oh my god why do my teachers put up with my shit

important facts & quotes from hidden oracle reread #4 part one

i cited everything from the hardback edition bc im a nerd 

- page one apollo is already making pop culture references (1)

- meg is such a badass oh my g od (14)

- riodan does such a beautiful way of explaining things in this novels. awe-inspiring. mind blowing. example: “Her eyes glinted darkly like a crow’s. (I can make that comparison because I invented crows.)” (14-15) wow. beautiful. 

- so i understand this series is going to be about Apollo’s redemption and ~~~~finding himself~~~~ or w\e but JESUS PLEASE RICK you can’t just say “She [Meg] reminded me of the strays my sister was always adopting: dogs, panthers, homeless maidens, small dragons.” (15) WITHOUT PROVIDING SEVERAL BOOKS AS EXAMPLE FOR SAID SENTENCE all i want is a book focused on artemis and her army of small dragons and lesbians dear gods please 

- omfg can you just imagine sally having to go over to Percy’s room and having to tell him that the greek god of the sun apollo was there to see him omfg. imagine the salt. imagine both of them just groaning. imagine.

-”If I had still been an immortal, I might have flirted with her [Sally Jackson] myself.” (30-31) l o l Sally is a middle aged married woman seven months pregnant and still bringing in the gods you go girl im proud of you

- Sally Jackson is one of the best characters in the entire series. citation: every riodan book ever even the non-pjo it’s a fact 

- i 10000% support the idea that percy gave apollo the led zeppelin shirt as a sneaky joke he’s so smart i love him so much

- “Percy laced his fingers. They were long and nimble.”(35) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

- He [Percy] would have made an excellent musician.” (35) f u ck 

- literally all percy wants is to “stay alive” long enough to go to college, meet his baby sister, and see his mom get her book published my heart is broken for this boy (35-36)

- the return of the seven layer dip fuck me up (40)

- jfc that poor Prius it’s been through so much (52-54)

- page 67 and Percy’s already made two comic book references he’s such a canon nerd 

- “Cops love me almost as much as teachers do.” god Percy Jackson what are you doing to me

- apollo tried to order a pizza to CHB and honestly same (73)

- g o d will solace jfc wow

- we’re to assume Will’s a skier (his Okemo Mountain jacket & skiers tan) (82) and now i have to write the inevitable fic that comes out of this fact

- Will’s mom was a alt.-country singer from Austin, Texas (83) which wow and honestly makes the fact will is a horrible singer 1000% better

- yellow daises grow year-round in the Apollo cabin, and it smells like fresh linens and dried sage. (83)

- kayla is aiming for the olympics and honestly im so proud already 

- fact: any and all solangelo interaction have me crying into my book 

- “Will put his hand on Nico’s shoulder, ‘Nico, we need to have another talk about your people skills.’” lol this implies that they’ve had this talk before and im dying to hear it

- the Hermes kids are big fans of Rocky Horror Picture Show (95) and now i have to write a seperate list of headcanons for this fact

- speaking of, Apollo used to cosplay as Rocky bc why not. (95-96)

- listen i know im solangelo trash BUT - “Will and Nico sat shoulder to shoulder, bantering good-naturedly. They were so cute together it made me feel desolate.” im destroyed (110)

- “but if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen.” “it’s a mood disorder” “i cant control it” stfu nico u nerd u just want to sit with your boyfriend im dead (110)

- Will nodded serenely. “It’s the strangest thing. Not that Nico would ever misuse his powers to get what he wants.” death to goody-two-shoes will solace 2k17

- off topic but CAN YOU JUST IMAGINE CHIRON THO. like. this happens and will and nico are just standing there. in front of him. telling him they have to sit together OR NICO WILL JUST HAPPEN TO PUT CRACKS INTO HIS CAMP. just imagine. him staring at them. sighing. deciding not to fight this one. agreeing & watching them giggle away bc they’re so SNEAKY & now they can EAT TOGETHER WOW 

-   lol when Meg was going to town on the hot dogs and “Julia and Alice watched her with a mixture of fascination and horror.” (111)

- “Will and Nico exchanged a look that might have meant, here we go.” (112) okay im sorry im just sO GONE FOR LITTLE MOMENTS LIKE THIS I JUST WANT NICO TO BE HAPPY AND COMFORTABLE IN HIS RELATIONSHIPS OKAY

- apollo refers to the seven as “the A-list” (112) same tho

- Jason, Piper, Coach Hedge, Mellie and baby Chuck are all in LA with Piper’s father like???? (113) THIS IS SOMETHING I NEED TO SEE? What’s the living arrangement? Is Jason living with Piper? OH GOD IS JASON LIVING WITH HEDGE AND MELLIE? DO THEY ALL LIVE IN SOME BIG PLACE PIPER’S DAD RENTED OUT???? do Piper and Jason babysit? do they have family dinners? how’s baby chuck doing??? how are they all adjusting to domestic life?? I NEED TO KNOW THIS IS ALL VERY IMPORTANT TO ME 

- lol nico’s just as pissed as eveRYONE IN THE FANDOM about Leo’s not-death and im living for it (113)

- also nico carries around Leo’s lil ‘IM ALIVE LOL’ letter\hologram\thing? like i get it was completely for the plot but?????? “i look at it whenever i want to get angry” (114) like ok nico u lil bean whatever u say u little emo shit

- apollo’s little ‘lol when u have a headache in olympus hephaestus just cracks open your skull and removes whatever brain god\dess u just birthed up lol it’s so much easier ugh’ (116) w h a t t h e f u c k 

- fact: harley is adorable no citation needed

- also you’re telling me chiron, basically as old as time itself tbh, doesn’t speak portuguese? k (120)

- “i am merely assessing how well paolo’s arms are functioning after surgery” (120) those are some big words william u nervous or something??

- “hmph” - nico di angelo, 2016 (120) 

- this isn’t really important but there’s a satyr named herbert and he’s my new favorite character sorry i dont make the rules (124)

- ok so there’s an unnamed random camper who mutters in Italian (127) and now i’ve got the BIGGEST headcanon that this random girl and Nico (omg maybe a few others????) meet a few times a month just to rant to each other in Italian so none of them get sloppy with the language and u g h im such a bitch for nico di angelo frienships

- “A boy in the crowd gasped, ‘she’s a communist!’” (127) i fucking hate this book omfg

i’ll do more later in order to mentally prepare myself for the dark prophecy but it’s 3 am and im tired  

Sober

2,500 Followers Oneshot

Summary: The reader is drunk and she tries to have sex with her best friend Jensen.

Prompt: “Why are you in my bed?!”

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1,757

Requested: @supernaturalgirl85


Jensen tiredly drudges up the stairs in his Malibu home, grumpy as all hell. He just lost $2,000 at a poker game and it’s safe to say that he’s ripshit.

Although he’s not concerned about actually losing the money, being a successful movie director has set his ass up for life.

It’s just the fact that he lost. He’s a competitive fucker, always has been and always will be. It’s in his DNA.

And to add fuel to the fire, his friends refused to give him another chance to win back his money. Claiming it’s too late and they needed to call it a night. It’s only midnight for Christ’s sake. Old bastards.

Keep reading

Something Just Like This

Summary: AU. This is the story of an ordinary couple with an extraordinary love.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,652 (without lyrics)

Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, pregnancy, mentions of bullying, illness, and death, song fic style

A/N: This is my oneshot submission for the poetic noble land mermaid @whothehellisbella and her Bella’s Cool Time Summer Jamz Mix Writing Challenge. My song prompt was Something Just Like This - The Chainsmokers, Coldplay. I hope you approve and enjoy!

Originally posted by duckybarness

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Full Esquire Interview - CHRIS EVANS IS READY TO FIGHT

“HIS SUCCESS AS CAPTAIN AMERICA HAS MADE CHRIS EVANS ONE OF HOLLYWOOD’S SURE THINGS, WHICH MEANS HE CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS WITH HIS FREE TIME. SO WHY JUMP OUT OF AIRPLANES AND GET INTO IT WITH DAVID DUKE?

BY MAXIMILLIAN POTTERMAR 15, 2017


The Canadian commandos are the first to jump. Our plane reaches an altitude of about eight thousand feet; the back door opens. Although it’s a warm winter day below in rural southern California, up here, not so much. In whooshes freezing air and the cold reality that this is actually happening. Out drop the eight commandos, all in black-and-red camouflage, one after the other. For them it’s a training exercise, and Jesus, these crazy bastards are stoked. The last Canuck to exit into the nothingness is a freakishly tall stud with a crew cut and a handlebar mustache; just before he leaps, he flashes a smile our way. Yeah, yeah, we get it: You’re a badass.

Moments later, the plane’s at ten thousand feet, and the next to go are a Middle Eastern couple in their late thirties. These two can’t wait. They are ecstatic. Skydiving is clearly a thing for them. Why? I can’t help thinking. Is it like foreplay? Do they rush off to the car after landing and get it on in the parking lot? They give us the thumbs-up and they’re gone.

Just like that, we’re at 12,500 feet and it’s our turn. Me and Chris Evans, recognized throughout the universe as the star of the Marvel-comic-book-inspired Captain America and Avengers movies. The five films in the series, which began in 2011 with Captain America: The First Avenger, have grossed more than $4 billion.

The two of us, plus four crew members, are the only ones left in the back of the plane. Over the loud drone of the twin propellers, one of the crew members shouts, "Okay, who’s going first?”

Evans and I are seated on benches opposite each other. Neither of us answers. I look at him; he looks at me. I feel like I’ve swallowed a live rat. Evans is over there, all Captain America cool, smiling away.

While we were waiting to board the plane, Evans told me that as he lay in bed the night before, “I started exploring the sensation of ‘What if the chute doesn’t open?’. . .”

Oh, did you now?

“. . .Those last minutes where you know.” As in you know you’re going to fatally splat. “You’re not gonna pass out; you’re gonna be wide awake. So what? Do I close my eyes? Hopefully, it would be quick. Lights out. I fucking hope it would be quick. And then I was like, if you’re gonna do it, let’s just pretend there is no way this is going to go wrong. Just really embrace it and jump out of that plane with gusto.” Evans also shared that he’d looked up the rate of skydiving fatalities. “It’s, like, 0.006 fatalities per one thousand jumps. So I figure our odds are pretty good.”

Again the crew member shouts, “Who’s going first?”

Again I look at Evans; again he looks at me. The rat is running circles in my belly.

I look at Evans; he looks at me.

Another crew member asks, “So whose idea was this, anyway?”


That’s an excellent question.

I ask Evans the same thing when we first meet, the evening before our jump, at his house. He lives atop the Hollywood Hills, in a modern-contemporary ranch in the center of a Japanese-style garden. The place has the vibe of an L.A. meditation retreat—there’s even a little Buddha statue on the front step.

The dude who opens the front door is in jeans, a T-shirt, and Nikes; he has on a black ball cap with the NASA logo, and his beard is substantial enough that for a second it’s hard to be sure this is the same guy who plays the baby-faced superhero. Our handshake in the doorway is interrupted when his dog rockets toward my crotch. Evans is sorry about that.

We do the small-talk thing. Evans is from a suburb of Boston, one of four kids raised by Dad, a dentist, and Mom, who ran a community theater. The point is, he’s a Patriots fan, and with Super Bowl LI, between the Pats and the Falcons, just a few days away at the time, it’s about the only thing on his mind. You bet your Sam Adams–guzzling ass he’s going to the game in Houston. “Oh my God,” he says, doing a little dance. “I can’t believe it’s this weekend.”

Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.

Evans won’t be rolling to SB LI with a posse of Beantown-to-Hollywood A-listers like Mark Wahlberg, Matt Damon, and Ben Affleck. For the record, he’s never met Damon, and his only interaction with Wahlberg was a couple years ago at a Patriots event. Evans has, however, humiliated himself in front of Affleck.

Around 2006, Evans met with Affleck to talk about Gone Baby Gone, which Affleck was directing. Evans was walking down a hallway, looking for the room where they were supposed to meet. Walking by an open office, he heard Affleck, in that thick Boston accent of his, shout, “There he is!” (Evans does a perfect Affleck impersonation.)

By then, Evans had hit the big time for his turn as the Human Torch, Johnny Storm, in 2005’s Fantastic Four, but he still got starstruck. As he tells it, “First thing I say to him: 'Am I going to be okay where I parked?’ He was like, 'Where did you park?’ I said, 'At a meter.’ And he was like, 'Did you put money in the meter?’ And I said, 'Yep.’ And he says, 'Well, I think you’ll be okay.’ I was like, this is off to a great fucking start.” Stating the obvious here: Evans did not get the part.

No, Evans will be heading to the Super Bowl with his brother and three of his closest buddies. Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell for imposing that suspension on Tom Brady for Deflategate. Grabbing two beers from a fridge that’s otherwise basically empty, Evans says, “I just want to see Goodell hand the trophy to Brady. Goodell. Piece of shit.”

In Evans’s living room, there’s not a single hint of his Captain Americaness. Earth tones, tables that appear to be made of reclaimed wood. Open. Uncluttered. Glass doors open onto a backyard with a stunning view of the Hills. Evans stretches out on one of two couches. I take the other and ask, “Just whose idea was it to jump?” Since we both know whose idea it wasn’t, we both know that what I’m really asking is Why? Why, dude, do you want to jump (with me) from a goddamn airplane? “Yeah,” he says, popping open his beer, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Settling in on the couch, he groans. Evans explains that he’s hurting all over because he just started his workout routine the day before to get in shape for the next two Captain America films. The movies will be shot back to back beginning in April. After that, no more red- white-and-blue costume for the thirty-five-year-old. He will have fulfilled his contract.

“Yeah,” he says, popping open his beer, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Back in 2010, Marvel presented Evans with a nine-picture deal. He insisted he’d sign on for no more than six. Some family members thought he was nuts to dial back such a secure and lucrative gig. Evans saw it differently.

It takes five months to shoot a Marvel movie, and when you tack on the promotional obligations for each one, well, shit, man. Evans knew that for as long as he was bound to Captain America, he would have little time to take on other projects. He wanted to direct, he wanted to play other characters—roles that were more human—like the lead in Gifted, which will hit theaters this month. The script had brought him to tears. Evans managed to squeeze the movie in between Captain America and Avengers films.

FOX Searchlight

In Gifted, Evans stars as Frank Adler. You don’t get much more human than Adler, a grease-under-his-nails boat-engine mechanic living the bachelor life in Florida. After a series of tragic circumstances, Adler becomes a surrogate father to his niece, Mary, a first-grader with the IQ of Einstein. He recognizes that Mary is a little genius, and he does his best to prevent anyone else from noticing. Given the aforementioned circumstances, Adler has witnessed what can happen when a kid with a brilliant mind is pushed too hard too quickly. Then along comes Mary’s teacher. She discovers the child’s gift, and a Kramer vs. Kramer–esque drama ensues.

During a moment in the film when things aren’t going Adler’s way, he sarcastically refers to himself as a “fucking hero.” Evans says the line didn’t lead him to make comparisons between superhero Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) and Everyman hero Frank Adler. But now that you mention it . . . 

“With Steve Rogers,” Evans says, “even though you’re on a giant movie with a huge budget and strange costumes, you’re still on a hunt for the truth of the character.” That said, “with Adler, it’s nice to play someone relatable. I think Julianne Moore said, 'The audience doesn’t come to see you; they come to see themselves.’ Adler is someone you can hold up as a mirror for someone in the audience. They’ll be able to far more easily identify with Frank Adler than Steve Rogers.”

Dodger. That’s the name of Evans’s dog, the one who headbutted my nuts and has since done a marvelous job of making amends by nuzzling against me on the couch. Evans got him while he was filming Gifted; one of the last scenes was shot in an animal shelter in Georgia. Evans had wanted a dog ever since his last pooch died in 2012. Then he found himself walking the aisles of this pound, and there was this mixed-breed boxer, wagging his tail and looking like he belonged with Evans.

Dodger is not exactly a name you’d think a die-hard Boston sports fan would pick. His boys from back home have given him a ton of shit over it. But he has not abandoned his Red Sox for the L.A. team. As a kid, he loved the Disney animated movie Oliver & Company, and his favorite character was Dodger. Anticipating the grief he was going to get from his pals, Evans considered other names. “You could name your dog Doorknob,” he says, “and in a month he’s fucking Doorknob.” Evans’s mom convinced him to go with his gut.

Right around when Evans was wrapping Gifted and heading back to L.A. with Dodger, the 2016 presidential campaign was still in that phase when no one, including the actor—a Hillary Clinton supporter—thought Trump had a shot. He still can’t believe Trump won.

“I feel rage,” he says. “I feel fury. It’s unbelievable. People were just so desperate to hear someone say that someone is to blame. They were just so happy to hear that someone was angry. Hear someone say that Washington sucks. They just want something new without actually understanding. I mean, guys like Steve Bannon—Steve Bannon!—this man has no place in politics.”

Evans has made, and continues to make, his political views known on Twitter. He tweeted that Trump ought to “stop energizing lies,” and he recently ended up in a heated Twitter debate with former KKK leader David Duke over Trump’s pick of Jeff Sessions for attorney general. Duke baselessly accused Evans of being anti-Semitic; Evans encouraged Duke to try love: “It’s stronger than hate. It unites us. I promise it’s in you under the anger and fear.” Making political statements and engaging in such public exchanges is a rather risky thing for the star of Captain America to do. Yes, advisors have said as much to him. “Look, I’m in a business where you’ve got to sell tickets,” he says. “But, my God, I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror if I felt strongly about something and didn’t speak up. I think it’s about how you speak up. We’re allowed to disagree. If I state my case and people don’t want to go see my movies as a result, I’m okay with that.”

Trump. Bannon. Politics. Now Evans is animated. He gets off the couch, walks out onto his porch, and lights a cigarette. “Some people say, 'Don’t you see what’s happening? It’s time to yell,' ” Evans says. “Yeah, I see it, and it’s time for calm. Because not everyone who voted for Trump is going to be some horrible bigot. There are a lot of people in that middle; those are the people you can’t lose your credibility with. If you’re trying to change minds, by spewing too much rhetoric you can easily become white noise.”


Evans has a pretty remarkable “How I got to Hollywood” story.

During his junior year of high school, he knew he wanted to act. He was doing it a lot. In school. At his mom’s theater. He loved it. “When you’re doing a play at thirteen years old and have opening night? None of my friends had opening nights. 'I can’t have a sleepover, guys; I have an opening night tonight.' ”

That same year, he did a two-man play. For all of the twenty-plus plays Evans had done up to that point, preparation meant going home, memorizing lines, and doing a few run-throughs with the cast. However, for this play, Fallen Star, he and his costar would rehearse by running dialogue with each other. Hour upon hour, night after night.

Fallen Star is about two friends, one of whom has just died. As the play opens, one of the characters comes home after the funeral to find his dead friend’s ghost. Evans was the ghost. Waiting backstage on opening night, he knew he didn’t have every line memorized, but he had the essence and emotion of the play down. Onstage, he remembers, “I was saying the lines not because they were memorized but because the play was in me. I was believing what I was saying.”

He was hooked. He wanted to do more of this kind of acting—real acting. He wanted to do films, in which the camera was right on him and he could just be the character, rather than theater, in which an actor must perform to the back of the room.

A family friend who was a television actor advised Evans that if he wanted to go to Hollywood, he needed an agent. Toward the end of his junior year, he had a ballsy request for his parents: If he found an internship with a casting agent in New York City, would they allow him to live there and cover the rent? They agreed. Evans landed a gig with Bonnie Finnegan, who was then working on the television show Spin City.

“I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life.” Until it wasn’t.

Evans chose to intern with a casting agent because he figured he had more of a chance to interact with other agents trying to get auditions for their clients.

The kid was sixteen years old.

Finnegan put Evans on the phone; his responsibilities included setting up appointments for auditions. By the end of the summer, he picked the three agents he had the best rapport with and asked each of them to give him a five-minute audition. All three said yes. After seeing his audition, all three were interested.

Evans went with the one Finnegan recommended, Bret Adams, who told Evans to return to New York for auditions in January, television pilot season. Back home, Evans doubled up on a few classes the first semester of his senior year, graduated early, and went back to New York in January. He got the same shithole apartment in Brooklyn and the same internship with Finnegan. He landed a part on the pilot Opposite Sex. Even better, the show got picked up and would start shooting in L.A. that fall.

“I know I’m going to L.A. in August,” Evans says, recalling that period. “So I go home and that spring I would wake up around noon, saunter into high school just to see my buddies, and we’d go get high in the parking lot. I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life.” Until it wasn’t.

He wasn’t in L.A. for even a month when he got a call from home. His parents were divorcing. Evans never saw it coming.

Family and love and the struggles therein are part of what attracted Evans to Gifted.

“In my own life, I have a deep connection with my family and the value of those bonds,” he says. “I’ve always loved stories about people who put their families before themselves. It’s such a noble endeavor. You can’t choose your family, as opposed to friends. Especially in L.A. You really get to see how friendships are put to the test; it stirs everyone’s egos. But if something goes south with a friend, you have the option to say we’re not friends anymore. Your family—that’s your family. Trying to make that system work and trying to make it not just functional but actually enjoyable is a really challenging endeavor, and that’s certainly how it is with my family.”


the plane, a decision is made.

“I want to see you jump first,” Evans shouts my way.

Of course he does.

Like any respectable and legal skydiving center, Skydive Perris, which is providing us with this “experience,” doesn’t just strap a chute on your back. First, you go to a room for a period of instruction. Then you go to another room, where you sign away your rights.

You may be wondering how the star of a billion-dollar franchise with two pictures to shoot gets clearance to jump from an airplane—never mind the low rate of fatalities, as Evans has presented it. So am I.

“Well, they give you all these crazy insurance policies, but even if I die, what are they going to do? Sue my family? They’d probably cast some new guy at a cheaper price and save some money.”

Thinking the answer is almost certainly going to be no, I ask Evans if he’s ever gone skydiving before. Turns out he has, with an ex-girlfriend. Turns out that ex-girlfriend is now married to Justin Timberlake. Evans and Jessica Biel dated off and on from 2001 to 2006. They took the leap together when Biel hatched the idea for one Valentine’s Day. According to media accounts, Evans was recently dating his Gifted costar Jenny Slate, who plays the teacher. “Yeah,” he says, “but I’m steering clear of those questions.” You can almost feel his heart pinch.

“There’s a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who’s not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around.”

We end up broadly discussing the unique challenges an international star like Evans faces when it comes to dating, specifically the trust factor. Evans supposes that’s why so many actors date other actors: “There’s a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who’s not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around,” he says. “Letting someone go to work with someone for three months and they won’t see them. It really, it certainly puts the relationship to the test.”

In Gifted, there’s a moment when Slate’s character asks Adler what his greatest fear is. Frank Adler’s greatest fear is that he’ll ruin his niece’s life. Evans’s greatest fear is having regrets.

“Like always kind of wanting to be there as opposed to here. I think I’m worried all of a sudden I’ll get old and have regrets, realize that I’ve not cultivated enough of an appreciation for the now and surrendering to the present moment.”

Evans’s musings have something to do with the fact that he has been reading The Surrender Experiment. “It’s about the basic notion that we are only in a good mood when things are going our way,” he says. “The truth is, life is going to unfold as it’s going to unfold regardless of your input. If you are an active participant in that awareness, life kind of washes over you, good or bad. You kind of become Teflon a little bit to the struggles that we self-inflict.”

He continues: “Our conscious minds are very spread out. We worry about the past. We worry about the future. We label. And all of that stuff just makes us very separate. What I’m trying to do is just quiet it down. Put that brain down from time to time and hope those periods of quiet and stillness get longer. When you do that, what rises from the mist is a kind of surrendering. You’re more connected as opposed to being separate. A lot of the questions about destiny or fate or purpose or any of that stuff—it’s not like you get answers. You just realize you didn’t need the questions.”

This here—this stuff about surrendering, letting life unfold, taking the leap—this is why he wanted to go skydiving. It’s why that sixteen-year-old took the leap and did the summer in New York; it’s why he took the leap and turned down the nine-picture deal; it’s why he got Dodger. Surrender. Take the leap.

And so I go first.

Oh, one important detail: Novice jumpers like Evans and me, we don’t jump solo. Thank God. Each of us is doing a tandem jump. Each of us is strapped with our back to a professional jumper’s front. I’m strapped to a forty-four-year-old dude named Paul. Considering what’s about to happen, I figure I should know a little something about Paul. He tells me he used to own a bar in Chicago. Evans is strapped to a young woman named Sam, who looks to be twenty-something. She’s got a purplish-pink streak in her black hair and says things like “badass.” In fact, Sam introduced herself  by saying, “I’m Sam, but you can call me Badass.”

At the plane’s open door, my mind goes to my wife and two teenage sons, to those I love, and to the texts I just sent in case my chute fails. Then Paul and I—well, really mostly Paul—rock gently back and forth to build momentum to push away from the plane, to push away from all that seems sane.

Three.

Two.

One.

Holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK. This is what I scream as we free-fall from 12,500 feet, at more than a hundred miles an hour, toward the earth. Which I cannot take my eyes off of. I think about nothing. Not living. Not dying. Nothing. I simply feel . . . I have let go.

Suddenly, it all stops. I’m jerked up. Paul has pulled the chute, and it does indeed open. This is fantastic, because it means we have a much better chance of not dying. But it’s also kind of a bummer. I had let go. Of everything. I had chosen to play those odds Evans had talked about. I had embraced jumping and letting life unfold.

Now I had been jerked back. I would land. Back on the earth I had been so high above and from which I had been so far removed. Back in all of it.

Once I’m on the ground, safe and in one piece, a staffer runs over and asks how I feel. I say, “I feel like Captain America.”

The staffer runs over and asks Evans the same question. He says he feels great. Then he’s asked another question: What was your favorite part?

“Jumping out,” he says. “Jumping out is always a real thrill.”


This article appears in the April '17 issue of Esquire.

Close as Strangers

Close as Strangers: Chapter One

You were happy it was your last year of school. That was until you had to start tutoring your old best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Otherwise known as “Mr. Popular.” 

Word count: 5.6k

Genre: High School au, angst

This was my 5sos story I started on Wattpad but I wanted to do a BTS version.

{Playlist} Parts: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven |eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve


It was August 20th, the first day of senior year. You were pretty excited, you honestly felt this was going to be a great year. You guess you were also happy this was the last year of high school. You got up and turned off your alarm. Your phone read, 7:15. You’d only lived a couple of  minutes away from school, so you could afford to sleep in a little more.

You got up and grabbed your uniform out of your closet. Yet another reason to be excited about this school year, you only had to wear this god awful thing one more year. You got dressed and went to the bathroom, going through your morning routine. Once you were done and ready you grabbed your backpack and headed downstairs. You went into the kitchen and saw your mom and dad eating breakfast.

Your dad looked up from the paper, “Y/N, look at you. You’re up before noon, how does that feel,” his smile was contagious.

“Forced,” You smiled.  

He laughed and went back to his paper. “Y/N,” your mom spoke.

“Yes ma'am?”

She walked over to the table handing you two paper sacks. “Your and Yoongi’s lunch for today.”

You smiled and looked up at her, “Thanks Mom.”

“Sure,” she spoke as she sat down at the table. You’d started to eat some toast that was on the table when Yoogi rushed in.

“Sorry I’m late,” Yoongi shouted from the hallway as he came into the kitchen.

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•A JOURNAL ENTRY: WHAT IS IT REALLY LIKE TO LIVE WITH DEPRESSION?•

i wouldn’t exactly call it living. more like surviving… i look at the environment surrounding me, memories lie tattered in my brain. a life i want to believe was once so full and fruitful has become unthinkably dull. my own eyes were once baby blue but have since faded to an iridescently eerie gray. im hurting. it hurts. im not lying.

i would tell you that you don;t understand- but i;ve begin to notice that everything can only be interpreted in relation to other things or feelings. and this is the only thing ive come to recall feeling. this ethereal delicate coldness within my core, shaking and rattling my bones, consuming my every feeling of functionality. im clearly broken beyond repair- yet i aimlessly crave fixture.

i am light with awful lightness. my blood is mud and my bones are brittle. my thoughts freely cascade within my mind, setting fire to all of my precious sensibilities . any meager ration of purpose and hope is replaced by these fucking reminders that i am truly and entirely 113% alone in this.

at one point, i wanted help. i went to therapy once a week- on bad weeks i went twice. i convinced myself that the glass was half full. i made the most out of everything- and in the process, i made a fool of myself.

i spoke out. i cried for help. i wrote it in books, on forums, i would have carved the words “help me” into my damn skin on my damn forehead if i thought for one minute that anybody was listening.

and i know you’re listening if you’re reading this. but are you really reading this? are you reading me? can you feel the pain in the tips of my fingers, in the ends of my hair, in the blood in my veins, in the staggering cry of my voice at 2 in the morning- an ugly face soaked in the tears resulting from years of utter and complete destruction and then desertion of every little thing i feel?

can you feel my pain?

can you imagine trying to fall asleep when there are actual fucking faceless voices in between your ears jabbering an unimaginably taunting cry? whispering demented nonsense into your ears nonstop after you beg and plead with yourself to quit hearing those damn voices. your mind races like it’s been training all its life and this is the moment it has all led up to: the olympic event of self destruction. and it’s taking home the gold.

i close my eyes and i am so unbelievably tired. staying alive is a fight and today it has beat
me to a pulp. my eyes have bags as big as my regrets and my face is tired from
pretending to light up with joy all day.

jesus christ, it’s my junior year and i’m graduating in less than a year. surely there is one thing to even half way grin about. no, you are wrong. because for every good little thing that happens- every time it seems like it’s getting better, every false sense of hope, for every good thing, there is depression.

my false sense of hope has found its home. depression is a polite host to every single good
feeling in my body. depression feeds me, it cleans me, it loves me, it speaks to me, it knows me.

depression wants to stay forever. it houses in my bones, it feeds on my fears, it gets high on my anxiety, it exchanges hope for hopelessness, it thrives on my insecurities, and depressions favorite thing to do is to keep me up on nights like tonight, where i’m at my worst.

i’m scared, truly. i used to be obsessed with the seasons- more importantly, the transition of one season to anther. perhaps i used to be so fond of change because change was actually a possibility at that point in my life.

winter turning into spring was my favorite. i would lay on the dead, crunchy, brown remnants of the grass, the air around me crisp and cold, stabbing my lungs with every swift,
sharp breath. my nose rosy and cold, sniffling along every chill within my body. bare branches of tall oak trees
stretched into the white winter sky, seemingly reaching for the sunlight the tree craved and needed, as my pale, cold, minuscule hands clutched at the dry, barren earth beneath me- fumbling for more meaning of the world around me. why must seasons change, but my heart always feels the same?

you see, i resonate so very deeply with the winter months. gardens and patches of land that were once beaming with flora and fauna, life and expounding sunlight and warmth, now lay isolated, empty, sterile- similar to the child in me that once was jubilant and lively, but now turned into some thing so cold and ugly. the innocence has beend lost and the happiness within me has since been destroyed by the monster within me, which claims not only me as a victim, but those around me who love and care about me

i only know that i am loved and cared for because i’m continuously and perpetually told this upon a daily basis. it has become very prevalent to me that people feel much better about me when i validate that i know that they are here to talk and that i am loved. yes, i know this. but i cannot feel it. the love that you have for me is, in the least offensive way possible, absolutely irrelevant to my entire being.

you could listen to me rant for days upon weeks, you could read this bible that i’m typing. but i can never seem to make the people around me realize that i am never going to truly accept the love they offer me.

i often wonder if it is true love that inspires people to be there for those with depression- or if those surrounding me simply feel compelled to profess their love and support to me because they see my approval and wellbeing as a direct reflection of their credibility as a friend or family member.

i feel as if i am a burden to those around me, simply harshening the seemingly good mood that literally everyone else but me is capable of partaking in. i want to run with wild horses, frolic among wild flowers, hear the laughter of a child, hold hands with someone i love, and entertain deeply fulfilling and life changing relationships- but you see, the way my life is set up- i am actually emotionally incapable of doing so!

i am most aware of my unfortunate illness and incapability to be happy in the most unexpected and irrational times. take birthday parties, for instance. celebration and good vibes fill the air around me, seeping into my black, pitiful lungs. everyone around me smiles and sings, drowning in their jubilation, as i sit and watch. i want to have fun. please believe me. i want to sing happy birthday. i want to watch you open your gifts. i want to be as happy as you. i want to feel the warmth in my cheeks as i have the time of my life with my friends. but some thing within me compresses each and every slither of joy i am capable of feeling. i am suffocated by the downfall of my emotions and i am blinded by the reminder that depression doesn’t take breaks, not even at birthday parties. depression is strongest whenever you are faced with situations that expose you to the reality that you’re the odd one out- you’re sticking out like a sore thumb. you’re moping and you’re constantly staring out into space. what are you even looking at? what do you have to think about? you have nothing to live for, so anything beyond what’s right in front of you has no relevance in this whole scheme of life. so take it or leave it. you should be enjoying this birthday party. all the other kids are happy. you should be too. you’re lucky you even left the house today. so lucky. had you stayed home, you would have been 100% alone with your thoughts, rather than 97% along with your thoughts, due to the constant interruption of your moping and resentment by peers and parents and teachers asking “is everything okay?”

habitually, you nod. yes. everything is fine. i’m doing well, thank you. but what is the meaning of life? why do i feel like there’s a big fat man sitting on my chest and stomach and heart all the time? why do i always feel like i’m the only one in the room holding back tears trying not to cry? why are the other kids so happy? am i missing out on some thing? why do i feel so sad? why is it that every time i’m surrounded by people who say they love and care for me, i feel as if i’ve never been more alone before in my life? why? do you pity me? it’s just who i am. is that weird?

and oh my god i was always so desperate to be different. perhaps it was just the way my personality was set up. and i was always fairly extroverted. but it was presumably a persona that i put on. hey world, look at me. i’m silly and creative and ill say things that nobody else would say. pay attention to me, look at me.

because i needed them to watch. i hope you never feel so out of control of your body as me, to where you feel as if the only way that you can be saved is if other people figure out that you’re dying on their own. you don’t know how to come straight out and tell them, “hey, i really would rather not be alive at this given moment. i have visions of ending my own life. i use self isolation as a coping mechanism at times in order to feel like less of a burden on those who love me. i haven’t felt genuinely loved in a really long time. i’m so lonely. i could really use a friend right now.”

you can’t just say that. and i became depressed at 9 years old. how would a 9 year old even possibly articulate these complex and life threatening emotions that severely alter the way that every one of their peers perceives them. those middle years are crucial for making friends. it’s at that age that you have to find a group of 3 to 8 people who accept at least half of your given characteristics and occasionally invite you to partake in shit that kids do.

i wouldn’t know. i was a fleeting spirit. appearing and disappearing from cliques like it was clock work. there was more than one willow. there was the catty, witty willow- that found self-approval and approval from others by teasing and belittling others in order to build her own confidence up. then there was the sweet, flower child willow that sold daisy chains on the playground at recess at the price of one hug. there was the willow that stayed near the teachers at times because it was obvious that the other kids wanted nothing to do with her.

and as time progresses, the newer evolution of willow became prevalent. the willow that kept to herself most of the time, spending recess in the class room alone, drawing on the pages of her books, talking to herself, worrying her life away. everyone wondered - what was wrong with willow? or perhaps nobody noticed at all. maybe i was so insignificant even at such a young age- that the only time people considered me was in my dreams.

depression changes a person. some times, the change isn’t even tangible or noticeable to those surrounding the victim. some times, it is a slow discourse of the destruction of the spirit. it can slowly creep into your ear one ungodly night, and forever more whisper its awful lies into the victims ear, as it infects their whole body, their heart, their mind, their spirit, their hands, their eyes. everything. it slowly progresses into the uncontrollable loss of feelings and motivation to even maintain basic proper hygiene. it makes everything feel pointless. things are no longer worth the effort because you’re going to die no matter what, and that can’t come soon enough.

yes, depression can be slow and progressive. but that’s not the worst. the worst depression is the kind that sneaks up on you out of nowhere in the dead of night and immediately stiffens every hair on your body and turns your blood cold, making your mouth dry and your tongue numb. this depression hits you like a fucking train. it hits you in your most vulnerable state- comfort and normalcy. from that point on, you will never know normalcy again.

depression has a way of deceiving you into believing things that are crazy and untrue. but these things become so real to you as the depression progresses into a lifestyle that you come to know nothing else but the lies that depression will fill you with- so nobody can really tell you anything. it will call you names. it will tell you that you’re better off dead. it will be your only comfort- feeling nothing- during the night, whenever anxiety holds you until you pass out from exhaustion. you will never be cold at night as long as anxiety and depression have you snuggled up in between them.

oh how depression loves to kick you around and belittle you. oh how it renders your fantasies pointless. it loves to keep you hostage- to the point where any time you get an idea that doesn’t include moping around in your own sorrow, it immediately renders that idea impossible and reminds you that you are depressions bitch. you eat when depression finishes telling you how fat and disgusting you are. you sleep all day, so depression can take a dip in your nightmares. you wake up, and realize that life with depression is the true nightmare after all.

you pray for the day that you are relieved from this blinding madness and this subliminal torture. you feel as if you are not only a burden to your own self, but a burden to the people who love you and care for you

the only times when depression allows you relief from questioning the ulterior motives of those around you who claim to love you and care for you is when depression instead allows you to feel ashamed of your affliction. when you’re depressed, people notice. they may pretend not to and they may ignore it. but they know. they just don’t know what to say.

what would they say anyways?

hey. i’m sorry your brains are figuratively dripping out of your ears and i’m sorry that you have convinced yourself that i only care about you because i feel guilty, and i’m also sorry that you don’t even have the motivation to take a shower. i’m also sorry that you don’t
remember the last time that someone made you feel special. i’m sorry that you can’t find a reason to smile. i’m sorry that out of all the millionaires, the talented ones, the ones who fall in love, and the ones with nice asses- you were the one to end up hating yourself and everything around you.

ask yourself…. what do you say? what do you say to someone who is depressed?

know that i understand that you don’t know what to say. because yes this sucks. and i don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to wish you were dead. and i am so jealous of you for that. but please treat me the same as everyone else. please love me. make
me laugh. invite me to go shopping with you. get shit faced with me. help me fill the gaping hole in my soul with pointless memories of laughter and small talk. talk about life with me. listen to what i have to say. let me love you.

yes, i have depression. trust me, i will never forget! but please, help me feel normal. i don’t want to feel different than you. i want to be your peer, not your charity case.

i am dying to make friends. i am dying to spend less time in this bed writing shit like this. i am tired of letting this god damn disease walk all over me like i’m a fucking patch of dead grass.

life sucks. but please remind me that winter fades to spring. please remind me that some flowers are seasonal, and not every flower spends its whole life in bloom. remind me that you have to spend time in the dark to understand just how beautiful life in the sunlight is. remind me that there’s no cure for a bad day like a strawberry daiquiri and deep, controversial conversations with complete strangers.

remind me that my car has a sunroof and that it’s okay to open it up and let my hair get a little messy. remind me that music is better when it’s too loud to really interpret what the artist is saying- but you don’t have to understand to feel some thing.

remind me that i don’t have to lose this fight.

i am fucking hurting. but for the love of god, i’m begging you to help me fix me. because i forget that there’s good in the world. i forget that depression isn’t the boss of me. i forget that i have the whole world in my hands. i forget that there’s life after high school and that it’s okay to be alone some times, but it’s never okay to be lonely.

i will never forget what it is like to have my heart ripped out by a disease that i can’t even lay my hands on. perhaps i can touch the blisters under my eyes from
crying so much. perhaps i can run my hands along the holes i’ve punched in the walls from being so angry with myself. and yes i can feel how my bed is sinking in towards the ground because i spend so much time laying here trying to feel some thing besides utter destruction and loneliness. i can never forget what this disease has done to me. there will always be a piece of my heart that this depression has stolen from
me.

but with loving other people, i can aimlessly work to mend that hole. i can’t do it alone. i need a friend. i need you here with me.

i am so tired of being alone.
i will push you away at first. i may come off as helpless and a bitch. but please, that is the depression talking. it’s not willow.

willow loves the color pink
willow loves wild flowers
willow loves the smell of green onions
willow loves the feeling of sand under her feet
willow loves hearing about your childhood and how you had a speech impediment and a cat named angel
willow loves the smell of rain when it hits a hot sidewalk
willow loves to go barefooted
willow loves establishing connections with animals
willow loves willow, some times she just can’t see it

i need a gentle reminder of what it’s like to be a real normal teenage girl

this shit is hard. and being misunderstood makes it harder.

so i’m saying it loud and clear. my name is willow and i have clinical depression and generalized anxiety. my life has been a series of almost laughably awful events, which have resulted in said mental illnesses. i have been misunderstood, bullied, neglected, and hurt. but my story does not end here. i may never completely overcome my depression, but i will overcome my failure to acknowledge my illness. i will work to educate people about those who suffer as i do. i will help those with depression. i will be the friend that i have never had, but always needed, to anyone who wants it. i will be a testament to the depression that has oppressed me for 8 years now.

depression is not who i am. depression does not define me. what defines me is the fact that i am staying alive even though it is proving to be the biggest struggle that i have ever encountered, and i am asking that you help me and people like me. because it’s not a one person job.

my name is willow. and i’m telling you that depression is a rude ass bitch. but i’m a bigger bitch, and unlike my illness, i have the power to make people feel loved and valid. and i will use that power to overcome my depression.

i would like to dedicate this journal entry to everyone reading it. i may go to school with you, you may be just a random tumblr user, you may suffer with depression, you may suffer with some other deeply oppressive situation, you may just be a happy son of a bitch.
it doesn’t matter who you are. let this. journal entry be a testament to your life.

there are people with depression. and there is no way that i can ever explain to you just how it feels via tumblr text post or even via socratic seminar complete with gardens of text books and instructional videos. all i can say is that in this life, you are responsible for being there for the people around you.

you never know what someone is going through. people with depression practically have licenses and 4 year degrees in the field of putting up facades of being okay and sucking it up and repressing those explosive emotions. they don’t expect you to give a shit about them, because as far as they’re concerned, nobody has given a shit,
nobody currently gives a shit, and nobody ever will give a shit about them. they make it hard to help. but it’s so important that you break down those walls. and some times, all you need to do is smile at someone or invite someone to eat after school or to go to a party. you can’t do much for someone with depression. like i said, they’re a whole world away. their concerns and struggles are immaculate, indescribable. however, it doesn’t take much to show someone that you care even a little bit. even if it’s just picking and giving them a random flower.

if you suffer from depression or know anyone with depression and you need someone to look to for advice/help/inspiration, my DM’s are open. oversharing is caring. i know what it’s like to want to take your own life, and i fought the urge to do so even while writing this journal entry.

i am here for you. you are not by yourself. please DM me if you ever need someone to send you pictures of a cute animal to cheer you up, or if you even need me to talk you out of suicide. i know both feelings.

if you’re reading this,
i challenge you to go out of your comfort zone. yes you. i challenge you to do this one easy thing at either work or school, or out in public or in your family

1. pick 3 flowers, they can be store bought or you can have picked them yourself

2. give one flower to someone who you worry might have depression

2. give one flower to a random person who you don’t know

3. give one flower to a person you would like to get to know better, you never know when someone desperately needs a friend


it’s just a flower, but you could save someone’s life. some times, all people need is a gentle reminder that good things still exist and that somebody is thinking about them.

don’t be the person that assumes too high of a role or makes an excuse to not be able to participate in this challenge or share this journal.

you never know when you can save someone’s life.

remember: no matter who you are, i love you. and i am willing to comfort you in times of need. i’ve been where you are. and i know how much ass depression sucks.

my DM’s are open, and so is your future.
don’t end your story this early.

—  Willow Scalisi 4/18/17 (dam i just realized sonic got half priced burgers today, turn up)
Business and Pleasure - Part 10

Summary:  Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.

Word Count: 2,201

Warnings: Swearing


Originally posted by little--batman


The two of you had fallen into silence, both seemingly lost in thought. The appetizers were delicious, but you couldn’t do more than pick at them. You were too distracted by your thoughts to focus on eating.

So much had happened in so little time. Sure, it seemed like you had your best friend back, but who knew how long that would last. He seemed sincere earlier, but there was no way to guarantee that the two of you wouldn’t get into another stupid argument and find yourselves right back where you started.

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Shit That Happened Sophomore Year of College

since my crazy freshman year post was a big hit, I thought you guys might enjoy a list of some of the weird things that happened this year! Enjoy!

  • someone yelling “BALL SACKS” at the tops of their lungs in the dorm hall while the clock tower chimed ominously in the distance
    • update: door slams five hours later, accompanied by a very annoyed “ball sacks, again”
    • update: week and a half later, someone slammed open the stairwell door, shouted “SUNDAY MORNING! BALL SACKS!” and then slammed it shut and ran down the stairs
    • update: it’s been 8 months. Every time I think the ball sacks guy is finally done, he shows up again at a random hour on a random day and shouts “BALL SACKS” down the hall for no known reason. I am frightened to try and learn more at this point.
  • those two semi-drunk guys on a Tuesday evening that were on a third floor balcony serenading some guys on a second floor balcony with Bohemian Rhapsody
  • that person who was laying face-down on the sidewalk in front of the University Center while crying and his friend was sitting next to him, gently patting him on the back (#same)
  • 2turmt
  • my first real injury in a sword fight
  • people slingshotting shirts off the roof of the English building
  • this conversation with my friend
    • “Get turnt. But get turnt responsibly.”
    • “Life motto.”
    • “Get it embroidered on a throw pillow.”
  • overheard in the library
    • “I dunno, I just don’t think I want to catch them all.”
    • “But you GOTTA catch ‘em all, bro! Don’t make me sing at you!”
  • the guy sitting in the parking lot outside of my dorm, smoking a joint in his car with a plastic skeleton wearing a bridal veil in the passenger seat
  • the RedBull guerrilla marketing teams that would wander around campus giving out free drinks because the campus store only has Monster
  • “You don’t understand, this malleophone is more valuable than my life.”
  • my ASL professor using a picture of Kanye West to teach us the sign for egotistical/big-headed
  • the former Swiss Army Knife CEO subbing for my management class and going on a small rant about Google buying and selling Motorola so much
  • The Smoking Bandit who almost killed me on a Tuesday night, and who cussed me out at 3:30 am a week later, but ended it with “love you!!!”
  • The Sexy Lumberjack Twins
  • conversation a day before the presidential election with my section leader
    • “What are you doing?”
    • “Crocheting. Avoiding news outlets.”
    • “Solid plan.”
  • overheard in line to get breakfast the Sunday before finals
    • “So then he calls me at like 3 am looking for weed and I’m like? Oh my god, no, let me finish this paper I don’t have any weed right now.”
  • “I know he’s kind of a fuckboi, but like… a fuckable fuckboi, you know?”
  • the beer stash in the locker room during spring semester that was liberally used before 10 am
  • “There’s pizza being neglected over here!” -instant mad scramble for the table-
  • overheard on the shared balcony attached to my room
    • “Siri, what the FUCK”
  • before a painfully early class
    • “I can’t recall where my phone is.”
    • “There’s a pun in there somewhere, who wants to take it?”
    • “Give me 20 minutes to finish my coffee first.”
  • LGBT Studies professor: “my gay agenda is maple syrup”
  • “I’m an American college student, I point and laugh at serving sizes.”
  • that time I slowly and dramatically flipped the bird at a classmate in the middle of my big presentation and the prof couldn’t even get mad about it because i had good reason
  • that theater teacher who still wears a kilt every day getting a tandem bicycle for no discernible reason
  • “It’s the oboe… of love.”
  • the Numa Numa song echoing across campus on a Monday afternoon like the ghosts of memes past
  • that time I’m 80% sure someone got a blowjob in the bathroom stall while I was taking a shower. It was 9:30 pm on a Thursday.
  • me to my friend with 3 stitches in his arm: “please be more careful on future midnight cheese runs”
  • the heated discussion between some of the music majors in the row in front of me before a faculty concert on the best butts in the department
  • actually this would be a good time to mention that some of the music business majors put together one of those Sexy Guys calendars (you know the kind, usually featuring firefighters and/or puppies) made up of the Hottest Guys™ within the music dept. I’m will waiting to find out where I can order one because I want to laugh at them all.
  • my music appreciation prof: “Using similes with toddlers is wild, I tell you. I was sick over break and told me 3 year old that I felt like I had been hit by a truck, and he asked me what color it was.”
  • this conversation I had with a wind player
    • “Why are you calling [the oboe professor] Bilbro Baggins?”
    • “Because we realized that the mocking name we used to call him had the same number of syllables as Bilbro Baggins, and he seems to respond to Bilbro even worse than to Obro.”
  • the tenors trying desperately to sing a bass part from a YouTube clip of an opera and failing miserably
  • the day of a big concert
    • And I have to go to goddamn Portland this weekend!”
    • “Which one?”
    • “The goddamn one!”
    • “…I meant which coast but yeah, okay.”
  • that Eastern European guy who just… shows up sometimes in front of the UC to sell overpriced posters
  • #laundryday
    • “Wow, you look really nice today! I like your leggings!”
    • “Thanks I ran out of clean pants this morning.”
  • “If you’re going to whistle something in this [the music] building, I’m gonna have to request something more original than Vivaldi’s Spring.”
  • “The art majors are trying to burn down the soccer field.”
    • “What, again?”
  • LGBT Prof: “Can you guys rec me some modern gay songs because all of my gay songs are from the 70s and 80s.”
  • Also LGBT Prof: “I’ve got sixty years of lesbian exes coming through for me, and most of them aren’t even my exes, actually.”
  • overheard in the library: “The gender neutral term for sugar daddy is glucose guardian.”
  • LGBT Prof brought in rainbow goldfish on the last day and the entire class cheered
  • “Shakespeare was a punk-ass bitch and, as an English major, I feel it is well within my rights to say that whenever I damn well please.”
  • I almost walked straight into a pole during finals week because I was falling asleep while walking. Don’t let the internet make you think sleep deprivation is cool and trendy, kids.
  • “Okay, so while you guys are taking the final, I’ll be up here on my computer. It’s gonna look like I’m writing comments on reports, but really I’m just surfing the web.”
Everdeen Vineyards

happy valentine’s day, just barely! here’s a little drabble that wouldn’t leave me, hope you enjoy <3


“Have you had a chance to look at the menu yet?” Katniss asked the back of the man’s head, her eyes already scanning the room to make note of the new patrons she still needed to greet. A steady flow of customers through the tasting room was keeping her busy–not that she was complaining. Not much, anyway.

The man turned around, and she snapped her gaze back to him, a polite smile fixing itself to her lips. “Not yet, I’m afraid.” He smiled, and her expression froze as she got a look at his face for the first time. “Hey, Katniss.”

It took an embarrassingly long moment for the synapses in her brain to fire, and her smile slipped. “Oh–Peeta?” Why she phrased it like a question, she didn’t know. Of course, it was Peeta. She’d recognize that face, with those blue eyes and that sweet smile, anywhere. She just hadn’t expected to see it here. “Oh my god–what–I mean, hi. Wow.”

He laughed slightly, and she felt herself blushing. She shook her head, forcing a laugh too. “I’m sorry. How are you?” she asked awkwardly. She wasn’t entirely sure of the protocol for greeting an old high school classmate who’d existed mainly on the periphery of her acquaintances. The last time she’d seen him was graduation 10 years ago.

“I’m good,” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “I just wanted to check this place out. I, ah, saw your post about it on Facebook.” He looked sheepish when he said that, and she blinked. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that–the fact that he could, and did, apparently, read her posts on Facebook. She’d accepted his friend request years ago in college without much thought; they weren’t friends or anything, but she’d received numerous requests from people she barely knew from high school over the years, so it hadn’t seemed too strange. Some–actually, probably most requests–she’d declined. She hadn’t seen the harm in adding him, though. She didn’t know him well, but Peeta Mellark was nice. Funny. Popular. College wrestling champion two years in a row, or something like that–not that she was keeping tabs. He’d regularly show up in her feed over the years, even though they never interacted.

Since she barely used Facebook these days, it just didn’t occur to her he would ever see anything from her.

“Right, of course,” she said with a dazed laugh. “That was the point. Um, thanks for coming. That’s–that’s really nice of you.” She folded her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable and not sure what to do with her hands. They were trembling slightly.

Peeta pressed his lips into a small smile, his eyes darting around as he surveyed the room, the people milling around them. “This place looks incredible.”

She wondered if she was ever going to stop blushing at this point. “Thank you. I mean, most of the groundwork was already laid.” She took a deep breath, not wanting to launch into that story. If he’d seen her post, then he’d already learned of her efforts to revitalize her family’s old vineyard, which had been in disrepair since her father’s death more than a decade ago. “Let me get you a menu.”

He nodded while she grabbed a paper menu from a nearby table, holding it out for him. “We do glasses and bottles of the wines listed here, but we also offer a tasting where you can sample seven of our wines. If you haven’t been here before, I recommend that.” She stopped herself and laughed, shaking her head. “Which, of course you haven’t. This weekend is the grand reopening. I just mean–that’s probably what you want to do.”

His eyes flicked up to her from the menu, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll do that. Thank you.”

“Sure. Just find a seat outside if you’d like, and I’ll bring the wine to you,” she said with a vague gesture toward the patio, already turning away to scurry to the bar. She needed a moment to compose herself, inexplicably rattled.

It was just…Peeta. Mellark. Here. To see her. Or rather, to see her vineyard, but it was her vineyard. And he’d come because she’d made a post on Facebook proudly announcing the reopening of Everdeen Vineyards, after three years of planning and toiling and fermenting wines until they were just right.

Keep reading

things that 100% definitely happened after the end of call me beep me u can pry these headcanons from my cold dead hands

(call me beep me is an incredible fic by @gajeelredfox that i can’t link to rn bc i’m on mobile but the final update was posted tonight and i’m emo so have this)

-when they go trick or treating, the kids fall in love with keith instantly and are constantly chattering at him and tugging at his arms to show him things. by the end of the night keith is carrying a sleeping child home and lance’s heart is suffering.

-lance and hunk get to celebrate pidges 16th birthday! lance gets pidge a remote control robot car. (“get it? because its like the cliche thing to get a car on ur 16th birthday, but u like robots!” “yes i get it lance thank u.”)

-together, matt and lance make allura and shiro’s life a living hell. they can’t even look at each other without hearing exaggerating kissy noises.

-lance gradually helps keith and muffin warm up to each other and after a while they’re best friends. sometimes she’ll even lick his hand. shiro is pissed. (“i’ve been trying to get them to get along for years!!! and then this little shit comes along and within a couple of months she’s sitting on his lap!!! wtf!)

more under the cut

Keep reading

Dirty thoughts

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader

word count: 3058

warnings: um, implied smut? 

A/N: I hope you like this, it came to my mind some days ago. English is not my first language and i am doing my best, so please whether you like it or not, please let me know. It’s really important because I want to become a better writer. :) ♥ Oh, and if you want a request feel free to ask, just know that it may not be up really fast due to my filled schedule :) 

______________________________________________________________

Originally posted by potter-imagines-here

He was standing in front of me and was studying my shape. That made me nervous so I was looking at the floor. I felt those familiar rough and at the same time soft fingers slowly moving from the neck to my jaw, titling me head up in order to see him in the eyes. He smirked and got nearer, his skin barely touching mine.

“You have no idea what I am planning to do to you, sweetheart.”, his voice sent shivers down my spine after he whispered those words. Then his lips met my soft skin just below the ear. Moaning I tried to burry my hand in his raven black hair but the boy stopped me. Pushing me lightly I fell on the bed. He hovered above me and then I saw the desire in his eyes. I licked, then bit my lips at the thought what he can do to me.

“I’m all yours. Show me what you are capable of.”, I titillate him. That caused only a devilish grin. His hand ripped my shirt and within seconds his skillful mouth was exploring my curves…

“Come on (Y/N)! We must go!”, somebody shouted so loud in my ear that I fell on the hard floor.

“Are you crazy!? What the hell is your problem? You want me to become deaf or something?”, I screamed back.

“Well, you weren’t waking up so I had to do something.”, Lily, my roommate, said back, “Come on, dress up! We will be late for class.”, in response I groaned, not only my ass was hurting, but because she woke me up from my dream that was just becoming interesting. However, just as I saw the time, my almost wet dream popped out of my head and I started dressing. We had Potions and I didn’t want to get in trouble because of my dirty thoughts.

Somehow we managed to get in class just seconds before the teacher did.

“How is my sweetheart? Did she get enough sleep or she kept thinking ‘bout me?”, the familiar voice I had heard in my dreams asked.

“You are not so important to occupy my dreams.”, I looked at him with a smirk, trying to cover the fact that I was lying.

“You are hurting me, (Y/L/N)!”, placing his hand on his chest, where his heart was supposed to be, he acted as though he had been hurt, “Not caring about your boyfriend?”

“You are such a drama queen.”, I smiled.

“No, no, no! I’m a sexy drama queen.”, his façade as a hurt child continued.

“Well, here I cannot quarrel.”

“Oh, and…”, leaning closer to me he whispered, “You were indeed in my dreams last night.”

Those words immediately made my face turn red. I bit my lips and looked down, hiding my smile.

“You are so sweet when you are blushing.”, he stated as he placed his head on both his hands looking as a child admiring something, ”Oh, here you are blushing even more because of my compliments, which are actually true.”, that boy really didn’t know when to stop, “You are becoming as red as my tie sweetie, is it even possible?”

“Stop it, Sirius!”, he was right, I felt my face burning but at the same time I couldn’t stop smiling because of him.

“Why?”, my boyfriend asked simply while looking at me with an innocent look.

“I-um…I just wanna focus.”

“Yeah, sure.”, and with that our conversation finished. I was doing fine for the first five minutes. Then Sirius put his hand on my bare hip. My body immediately tensed. I was used to it, Sirius was really touchy and liked to show that I was his but this time it was different. I glanced at him but it seemed that he was interested in the boring lecture. I put all my efforts in trying to do the same, but Sirius’ hand was burning my skin. The only thing that was roaming in my mind was me, my boyfriend and some dirty things I’d never thought I would think of. I moved slightly so Sirius’ hand would just fall or something but that didn’t happen, he even moved it upwards. I bit my lip in order to stop the moan that was about to escape my mouth. That was it! I removed his hand, something I didn’t do and looked directly at the teaching trying to look as though everything he had been saying was so freaking intriguing. Yet I managed to catch Sirius’ head turning towards me. Usually I liked him touching me and now I hoped that this didn’t make him see that something was not alright.  

Sirius was staring at me almost the whole lesson and it was a torture, honestly. I didn’t want him to feel bad about that my hormones are ‘activated’. But thankfully the class finished soon.

“Hey, (Y/N), wha-”, as Sirius was about to turn and say something I stormed out of the room heading towards my next lesson – Transfiguration. The good news was that my sexy boyfriend had Herbology and I could focus without a problem. Ha, ha, ha! Guess what?! He was stuck in my mind. His simple movement filled me with desire and it was only 9 o’clock in the morning. That slight touch on my hips and bam I’m head over heels for him. Not that I wasn’t but this feeling was kind of new, it drove me crazy. And on top of this everything I did in class was wrong that I had my house with 15 points down. ‘That stupid bastard! Who gave him the right to affect me that way?! Idiot, fucking sexy idiot!’

We’d been dating for almost 8 months but sex was never a topic. Yeah, we did make sex jokes but only that. Something in me believed that Sirius knew this experience was unfamiliar to me and didn’t push me although he was probably suffering from not training his lil’ friend which made me love him even more. But now, somehow used to all the stress about the exams and homework my body finally decided it was time to get what it wanted. Sirius and I of course had passionate moments but only that.

The whole day I’d been trying to ignore him in order to reduce my feelings but as all my efforts through the day…nothing, I repeat nothing succeed. Again lost in my thoughts, searching for something that will occupy my mind I didn’t notice my boyfriend who was searching for me. He pushed me against the nearest wall and got me out of trance.

“We need to talk. Now.”, he stated slowly with his deep and sexy voice. I gulped nervously and as I tried to get out of that situation he stopped me with putting his hands on the wall so I won’t escape. I observed him remembering each detail. His shirt was enlacing his body so perfectly that his muscles were visible. The sleeves were rolled up just above his elbow. I bit my lips and continue my research. His jaw was clenched, and those soft and pinky lips were just inches away from me. Oh, I was dying to kiss them at that moment but did anything to hold that control over my body. And then, finally, his orbits. There was something in him, something in his eyes. If you ever meet that look, then you would understand what I mean. Those cold grey eyes had so much fire in them, fire that managed to ignite my cells, my body. I was burning from desire for those hands around me, those lips connecting with mine and sucking my soul out of my vessel. He was dangerous. Like a spark in a dry forest. Only one look and I was turning into ash, ash of passion and love.

“There is something.”

“What do you mean that there is something, Sirius?”, I tried to play dumb.

“You cannot lie to me, (Y/L/N) and you know that.”, he came closer and I tried to move backwards but the stupid wall was behind me. ‘Stupid Hogwarts teachers, why making a wall just there?!’

“You are wrong, honey. I’m fine.”, faking a smile had to make him believe me but that naïve dog with super senses could detect all my lies.

“Then why are you running away from me as though I am the devil?”

Those questions and that sexy provoking way of talking were getting me out of my skin.

“Maybe because you are!”, as I told that my eyes got wide.

“Have I done something?”, he asked simply.

“Yes, yes you did!”, crossing my arms I looked away.

“What is it?”

“You are hot and sexy and seductive and, urgh!”

“Wait, what?”, it seemed my statement confused him so I used the opportunity to escape. Just as he realized what I was doing he grabbed my hand and stopped me, “You are ignoring me because you find me attractive. Oh god, what a logic.”, he laughed.

“Don’t you dare laughing you idiot.”, I got out of his grip. Trying to look angry I began walking towards my next class. He tried to stop me but thank goodness the room was like 2 meters away and he didn’t manage to tell anything more. ‘What a bastard! How can he laugh about it? He has no idea how this situation is affecting me. Oh, he will regret this!’

The rest of the day went almost quietly. Sirius was nowhere to be seen. That calmed me down and I was able to concentrate on my homework and essays for tomorrow. As I was studying in the library someone say opposite me on the table. I looked up hoping it wasn’t Sirius. When I saw it was Remus I relaxed.

“Hi, Rem!”, I said with a bright smile.

“Hello (Y/N)! Can I sit?”

“Of course, why are you even asking?”, I took some of my books to make space for his belongings.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Just being polite.”

“Rem, I know you pretty well, no need to act as the good boy.”, I winked at him.

“What are you talking about? I am the most innocent person in the whole school, more innocent even from the virgins.”, he stated while laughing.

“Oh, do not be so sure.”, and here we went again, my desires unlocking again.

“Is there something in common with what Sirius had said?”, the boy asked as he opened his books searching for the needed information.

“What had he said? By the way, where is he?”

“Oh, he said and I quote ‘I am too hot and sexy and seductive for my girlfriend and I will give her some time without distracting her’”

“He what?!”, the anger filled me immediately.

“I, um-shit, shouldn’t have said it.”

“Where is he?”

“I-”

“Where is that little bastard, Remus?”, I should have looked really scary because the only response I got was a stuttering answer that my boyfriend was in his dormitory.

I collected all my things in fury and stormed out of the library. ‘Sirius! You better hope that I do not find you!’ Reaching the Gryffindor common room I said the password and got in. The only people there were Lily and James who stopped snogging as I entered. But I was too angry to think about how they finally became a thing.

“Where the hell is Black?”, I said though clenched teeth.

“Oh, um…”, they looked at each other confused then Lily answered, “In the boys’ dormitory.”

I threw my bag with the books on the coach and ascended the stairs. Seconds later I was in front of the door and almost ‘kicked’ it down. Sirius was standing in front of his wardrobe and when I showed with such rage his eyes widened. I entered the room without breaking an eye contact and locked the door.

“(Y/N)!”

“Sirius! I’m glad we know each other’s names.”

He tried to start a conversation but I stopped him.

“How is my hot and sexy and seductive boyfriend going?”

“Moony told you?”, he then continued doing what he was doing to wit untying his tie.

“Yes, he did!”, the view in front of me was so tempting which made even angrier and horny - a bad combination for a girl with raging hormones.

“I don’t understand why you are angry right now.”, he let his tie untied around his neck and looked at me smirking.

“You are making me insane right now.”

“And what are you gonna do then sweetheart?”, coming closer he sent me that challenging look. I grabbed him by the tie and pushed him against the door. Getting closer I whispered

“You won’t wanna know.” and then I attacked his neck with wet kisses.

“Wha- oh, shit.”, he moaned as I reached his weak spot just behind his year. Burying my hands in his soft dark hair I made him come closer so I can kiss him. It was hard to be dominant with such a giant. When our lips connected I felt that it was different than before. The kiss was rough and passionate. I bit his lower lip and used the opportunity to slide my tongue inside his mouth. Those strong arms I knew so well found their place on my ass. I jumped and wrapped my legs around him. Our tongues were fighting and he wasn’t about to surrender. Changing our position, he slammed me up against the wall and tried to gain control but I stopped immediately although I didn’t wish to. I unwrapped my legs and set foot on the floor. Sirius stood there amazed and maybe…shocked? I licked my lips and that lit the desire in his eyes. I saw my lipstick smudged on his lips which made him even hotter.

“I- woah, what just happened?”

“You saw nothing, Black.”, walking toward him he was backing up - that was the only thing his body could do at that moment. I grabbed his shirt and ripped it off, buttons flying everywhere, “You have no idea how many times I imagined doing this.” After that I pushed him so he landed on the bed. Holding his body weight on his elbow he looked at me puzzled. Honestly I had no clue where that confidence came from, especially knowing what was about to happen but I decided to indulge the feeling. Slowly I unbuttoned my shirt throwing it on the floor. Then I slid my skirt down so slowly that caused my beloved boyfriend to groan at the sight. Removing my shoes I stood there only in my black laced bra and panties. Thanks god I was wearing the sexy set of underwear.

Sirius licked his lips and scanned my body. Believe it or not his friend immediately raised which made me chuckle. I hovered above my poor boy and looked him in the eyes. There was excitement, confusion and desire at the same time. Pushing him slightly so he would lay on the bed I positioned my legs from both sides of his body. Staying inches away from each other was killing us. He did want to do something but there was a thing stopping him.

“You used to be touchy. Is there a problem?”, I asked not even confused. Deep inside I felt everything was quite right.

“Moony and Prongs were right. You’ll be the death of me.”, chuckling he finally placed his hands on my lips moving them up and down, along my back and then back on my tights, “You just took my breath away, darling. I’ve never expected such an innocent girl to hide such a dangerous sex goddess.”

Those words made me do something. I’d never thought I could make him feel this way. Being the fuckboy of the school, well before we got together, always made me insecure about my body and abilities. I’d never felt good enough for that boy, and I kept telling myself I was just a toy. I was filled with fear of being rejected; being left from the boy I truly loved.  When we first met I found him too arrogant and cocky but with time passing I managed to look though that façade and see the poor boy, who was dismissed from his own family. A boy that had been hardly understood. A boy that wanted to hide his soft and vulnerable side. When I was with him he was himself, never hiding, never faking his emotions although he could do it pretty well.

My mouth was moving along his chest, stomach and right above his boxers. Sirius was a mess. Every time we had sex he was the dominant one, I’d never felt confident to do such a thing only because I thought I wouldn’t make him feel good. Apparently, I was wrong. Hearing my boy moaning me name was a pleasure for my ears. I licked a line from the bottom to his neck never breaking eye contact. He bit his lips and then threw his head back laughing.

“Oh, god!”

“What? Don’t have the strength to bear this?” , his grey eyes were looking at me dangerously and yet passionately.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”, instantly he put his hand on my head and draw me closer. Connecting our lips for a hundredth time that night, Sirius once again tried to dominant me.

“You won’t give me a chance, huh?”

“I want you so desperately that I cannot control myself, babe.”

As I reached my back to unclasp my bra, somebody opened, no, almost broke the freaking door.

“Sirius, I need to-”, James stopped in the middle of his sentence and in the middle of the room shocked. His eyes were moving from me to Sirius and back.

“(Y/n), what are you doing on top of Sirius?”, I was asked simply.

“What may I be doing on top of my boyfriend half naked, Potter?”

“Oooh”, the reality hit his face “You look sexy on him I can confirm.”

“Go away Prongs!”, I and Sirius both said and threw pillows at him.

“Okay, okay, I am leaving. Those little kids and their hormones… ”, he said while closing the door.

“Remind me to kill him later.”, we both laughed and then looked at each other.

“Now, where were we?”

3

The three pages of notes between Eric Harris and Kristi Epling from German class. (JC-001-012993, JC-001-012995, and JC-001-012996.)  Kristi was so afraid to have these notes in her possession after the massacre that she sent them to a friend in St. Louis for safekeeping, but the friend went to the police with this “tip,” which is why it’s in the “Tips” section of the documents.

Note 1: 

–Kristi–Baby–

Guten fuckin tag. [Good fuckin day.] Frau [the German teacher] sucks, but German rules! thanks for letting me copy allllll that stuff in Deutsch, Hist and chem. Kritzer sure is one Helluva spaz huh. well, our junior year is at an end, woop-de-flippin-do-da, we will be top of the food chain soon.  hey, stay away from those Frostys (redacted…), they might explode some day by no fault of mine! and you could get hurt. hey, your smart, do something cool when you grow up. Gott weiss ich will kein engel sein. [God knows I don’t want to be an angel, from the Rammstein song “Engel”.] oh well. ready for some philosophy? not yet? or… [redacted] and [redacted] need to burn, those pricks will get what’s coming soon.  thanks for listening to my problems and shit, bla bla–other nice thoughts–yadda wadda so so so…ok, time for philosophy: Nihilism, Anarchism, and several others are all wrapped up into 1 ball called my head.  society wants to get rid of any human instincts we may have, like Kritzer said a few times, the industrial age and factories and shit, all to better the community and lessen the human part of life, “sit in order, be respectful, don’t talk out loud, drive safely, don’t run, don’t lie, bla bla don’t don’t” why the FUCK not!!! we are humans, we should use our brains for something besides memorizing cube roots. the things that put us above animals is our brains, and society wants to flatten it out. they don’t want thinkers and dreamers, only thinkers and dreamers who think and dream about how to be successful and be a good citizen. Anyone who shows more thoughts or emotion than the norm is said to be wierd or crazy, wrong! they are just more in touch w/their humanity, and people who think they can sum up mankind in simple lame quotes piss me off. like “there are 2 kinds of people…the quick and the dead…the smart and the dumb…leaders and followers…” well you fucks are wrong!! The only 2 kinds of people are male and Female!!!!! the rest is B.S. follow your instincts, be free from all, listen to no one, be SELF AWARE!! step back and look at what you are doing, do you look stupid? smart? silly? foolish? that’s why I acted like I did at After prom, have you ever watched, actually watched someone dance? it is ridicu.o…lus. people are funny, they want to be accepted. don’t be afraid to judge people either. people say you shouldn’t judge others because that’s not how they are on the inside…well oh fucking well and to flippin bad, your impression of someone is what they seem like, and if they are to caught up and stupid to have their true self most obvious, then that’s their choice. if they look like a lame gothic black devil wannabe then damnit that’s what they want you to think and boom, verdict made. well, how was that for a trip through the mind of a wise one? I hope you liked it, if you didn’t I don’t care anyway!! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha  

[cut off] sehen du spater [see you later]

REB

(Mr. Kritzer was Eric’s teacher for world history in the second semester of junior year and philosophy in the second semester of senior year.)

On the side:

Dieses ist Kostenzahler-kultur von der unterirdischen…eternal Umdrehung die dieses unser stichhaltiges…KMFDM ist, das besser als das beste…megalomaniacal ist und stark als der Rest. –Sascha K.–  KMFDM

[This is counterculture of the underground…eternal revolution, this is our sound…KMFDM is better than the best…megalomaniacal and harder than the rest.]

(Note: this is from the KMFDM song “Megalomaniacal”)

Note 2:

Kristi: did I make your hit list yet?

Eric: nope, yer on my “Semper Fi” list. but [redacted] still is in the top 5, along with this asshole named [redacted] or [redacted] or something.

(arrow to “Semper Fi”) Semper Fidelis

?

always faithful. motto of the USMC

Kristi: that’s fine, he knows that. he wants off, or rather, he doesn’t want to die anytime soon

Eric: He will always be under the gun and in the sights since he hit me in the face, even though it didn’t hurt at all.  Until I get to hit him back I will always be pissed at him. and his dickhead friend too, If they want “off” then tell them to show some fuckin respect to their elders (me and dylan) and never make another smart ass remark about us or to us.

Kristi (arrow from redacted): who is this guy?

Eric: Just some faggot punk ska skater shitface who always makes fun of my kleid (German for “clothes, dress”) so I told him to shut the fuck up about it, and he is such a disrespectful smart ass and today he comes up and says “what’s up” in his little smart ass tone so I yelled at him

Note 3:

Kristi: if you’re going to be pissed @ me for being w/[redacted], then that is your thing, but I think that it’s stupid. I’m still the same person, I didn’t change just b/c I’m w/him, but you are going to do what you will.

Eric: exactly. but I didn’t think you would go out w/someone like him. but oh fuckin well es ist mir scheiss egal. [it’s all shit to me/I don’t give a shit.] does he still want me to be nice to him?

Kristi: I’m sorry I let you down, but I’m happy w/him (for now), he never wanted you to be nice to him, he just didn’t want you to kill him (he’s definitely scared of you.)

Eric: well, if he will let me punch him in the face and not tell a single authoritive figure (not get me in trouble) then I will be happy. I’ll even fuckin say “Hi” to him when he’s w/you. he’ll get down to around “#90” on my “shitlist” which is basically neutral. his friend is another story though.

Kristi: I’ll tell him, but I don’t know –[redacted] is a dork, I don’t give a shit about him, so you can do what you wish to him.

Eric: oh we will. I don’t expect [redacted] to let me do that either, so until he does not a damn thing will change

Kristi (arrow to “oh we will”): You and Dylan?

Eric: yeah.

Kristi: that’s cool, I’d probably the same way if it was me

Eric: I just don’t want the little fuck going to admin or the cops and start whining that we are threatening him or intimidating him. because if I get in ANY more trouble w/cops I will fucking lose it.

Night Shifts. [Smut]

A/N; I am so sorry that this took me ten million years to write. This wouldn’t have been possible without the bad influences in my life! ( @we-are-like-a-timebomb ,  @writing-obrien . @dumbass-stilinski and the wonderful @mandylove1000 <3 ) Enjoy! xoxo 

Pairing: StuartxReader

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: NSFW.

Word count: 5,716

Listen to this.

Originally posted by never-ever-stop-for-anyone

Keep reading

RIP To My Youth pt. 2

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: It’s the next day and despite the nerves, Y/N is ready to show off her new look to everyone at school. How will they react? With the Vixens tryouts right around the corner and unwelcomed run-ins with Jughead, support from other members of the scooby gang will be needed.

Warnings: Just a few swears it’s all good. 

Word Count: 4343 (Yeah I know it’s pretty long so yano, make yourself a cup of tea, sit down, get comfy and give it a read)



You know in those cliché teen movies where the protagonist walks through the halls of their high school and it’s all in slow motion with some kind of empowering music playing in the background and it’s just completely over dramatic? 

Well, that’s pretty much exactly what I felt like walking into school today, whether that was a good thing or not was an entirely different issue. I was turning heads, to say the least; I put so much effort into my appearance today that I kinda felt like if I didn’t achieve this response I would have completely failed. I tried my best to keep up a confident demeanour, and to my surprise, I was holding up rather well. I think that little pep talk I had with myself in the mirror this morning might have actually worked, hell yes.  

 My burgundy dress clung to my body as I glided down the hallway, ignoring the stares I was receiving a little further up I could see Archie, Ronnie and Kevin in a group by their lockers, they were deep in conversation and hadn’t spotted me yet. Unfortunately for me, in order to get to them, I was going to have to walk past the vast majority of the football team, who were all laughing about something in a group by their lockers.

 My heart sped up and I could feel my pulse quicken, I prayed they wouldn’t say anything as my usual encounters with them usually involved them teasing me in some petty juvenile way. 

As I passed them I held my breath and to my dismay but also surprisingly I was met with a symphony of cat calls, without thinking I turned my head to look at them, I made direct eye contact with the big man on campus himself Reggie Mantle, he just looked at me arms folded leaning against his locker and smirked. I was surprised because usually, he’d call me a freak or something uncreative like Wednesday Adams which Jughead and I had both been called numerous times throughout our years here.  I rolled my eyes rising above it and quickly made my way over to the three familiar faces by the lockers.

 “OH MY GOD” Veronica nearly yelled as she eyed me up and down when I stood next to her, “oh my god is right, YES why didn’t you tell us you were going all extreme makeover, that dress and your hair is literally giving me life right now” Kevin said with a look of amazement in his eyes. “Well, I thought I needed a little change,” I said laughing at the look on their faces. “You look amazing Y/N, I can’t get over this” Ronnie continued, she proceeded to literally poke me in the face, I looked at her as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing’, “sorry I just had to make sure this was real” a big smile was now painted across her face. “I think you broke Archie” Kevin motioned to the red headed boy whose mouth was wide open. Kevin’s words immediately brought Archie out of whatever strange trance he was in “H-hey Y/N, sorry it’s just really weird seeing you look so, so” Archie started “So hot!” Veronica finished. This made all of us laugh in unison.

“I was actually wondering if you two would come shopping with me this weekend, If I’m going to keep up this look I’m gonna need help from the experts” I motioned towards Kevin and Ronnie. “Of course! We will be your fashion fairy godparents, ready to give you all the style advice and direction you need” Veronica said looking at Kevin who nodded in approval of her statement.  

“Thank you guys so much” I breathed a sigh of relief, “Sorry Arch, I’d ask you too but I don’t think girly shopping trips are really your forte” I said looking at Archie.

 “Don’t worry no offence taken you’re right, but maybe I can meet you guys at Pop’s afterwards?” Archie replied. “But of course Archiekins, after a day of retail therapy Pop’s milkshakes are the only way to regain one’s strength” Veronica answered.

 “Oh my god I completely forgot to mention, Cheryl’s having a party at her house this Saturday too, apparently her parents are heading out of town to meet with a private investigator and she’s throwing a party to celebrate her mother giving her back the River Vixens and the new recruit she’s picking after school, so naturally I got the whole gang invited, Veronica Lodge does not disappoint” Ronnie said clapping her hands and grinning, this was met with the rest of us grinning excitedly and thanking her.

 However all I could now think of was that damn audition today, I’d almost forgotten about it, this news of a party being thrown practically in honour of the new recruit was enough to turn the butterflies in my stomach into grenades. The bell signalling the start of first period cut off this thought and brought me right back into reality. “Oh god, we’d better get going, see you guys in the student lounge at lunch break?” Kevin asked, we all agreed to meet there and went our separate ways.

 What class did I have first today? Shit, it was English. My stomach dropped and the grenades started exploding in a far fiercer manor. Jughead was in this class, what the hell was I going to do. Taking a deep breath I started walking rather slowly, in some last ditch effort to delay what was to come; however, in the back of my mind, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to escape the inevitable.  

 By the time I reached my class everyone was already inside and the teacher had begun talking, great if I wasn’t nervous enough to see Jughead I’d have to do the awkward “dash to my seat/ apologise for being late” stunt.

 I took a deep breath and quickly opened the door to the classroom, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Walking in I looked at the teacher who had a surprised look on her face, “ah sorry I’m late Mrs Jackson” I said, before I could scan the room for a seat, the teacher quickly added “oh I didn’t know we were getting a new student today, why isn’t there an office aid with you?”

 What the fuck, did she really think I was a new student; honestly I didn’t think I looked THAT different. Then again she was pretty damn old, needless to say, I was still rather embarrassed. I heard some muffled laughs coming from the students already seated, ignoring them I looked at my teacher, in hope of her getting a better look at my face “Uh Mrs Jackson, it’s Y/N Y/L/N, I’ve been in this class all year” I said trying to sound as polite as possible, the muffled laughter continued “oh so It is! I’m so sorry dear you look quite different today, please take a seat and try not to be late next time” I gave her a flat smile and turned to scan the room.

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Teen Romance Flick 101

Word Count: 14K+
Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader
Summary: After failing your Algebra test you have to ask Peter Parker– one of the best students– to be your tutor. As you get to know each other better, feelings begin to develop between the two of you.
Warnings: None.
A/N: This is one of the most common tropes and let me tell ya: I haven’t got one single regret. I kept characters nameless and generic because I don’t want to mess up the characterization of the Homecoming characters– but I’ll probably update this fic when it comes out to make it fit better in that universe. [F/N] stands for Full Name in case you don’t realize it. 


You stare at the giant red F on your test and you feel your stomach clenching, because you studied so much for this test and it still wasn’t enough. The bell rings and your classmates stand up, rushing out of the room to get out as soon as possible– but you stay behind, putting everything on your backpack slower than usual. Once everyone is out you walk to your teacher and take a deep breath before coughing to get her attention.

“Ah, [Y/N]. I was thinking you were going to talk to me after class.” She says with a warm smile and that makes you feel worse– because she’s an incredible teacher and person and she tried so hard with you, but no matter how much effort comes from both of you the fact that you are a big class with many students is a guarantee that she just won’t be able to give you all the attention you need to fully understand what you have to do.

You smile back but it’s only half-hearted– and she sighs and joins her hands on top of her desk.

“You can take a make-up test in two weeks– and that’s the best I can do to help you work out a solution for your grade.” You feel your soul returning to your body and let out a sigh of relief, because not everything is lost.

“Thank you so much. I really tried but Algebra is just so hard for me–” You say apologetically and she lifts up a hand, shaking her head.

“I know you did. You’re a good student, [Y/N]. I know that. Which is why I have a suggestion for you– to help you understand Algebra better.”

“Yes! Anything, really.” You respond eagerly, nodding.

“A tutor. A student who has no problem with the subject and can explain things to you one on one– someone you can ask any questions you possibly have how many times you want.”

“I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. Well… I guess it’s because I only know two people who are good at Algebra, and they have way too much on their plates for me to ask them to tutor me on top of that. So, do you know about anyone I can ask?” You ask with a hopeful smile, while wracking your brain to try and remember which students in other classes are good at Algebra– but you’ve never cared enough to find out so you come up empty. Your teacher grins and nods.

“Peter Parker.”

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Shit I Pulled As A Teenager - Part 1

Since my high school tales have gotten popular I figured I’d tell you the stuff I got up to in my teen years , in school and outside of it.

Hope this entertains you !

These all take place from the ages of 13 to 19 ~


13


- Spent a whole day wandering around town looking for intriguing lost things that June , best thing I found was an ominous note that read “ It awaits your presence at midnight , Emma ”


- Upon learning an old town hall was getting closed down , I snuck in before it got boarded up and stole every pen and piece of stray paper in the place , and I also managed to steal sodas from the cafeteria , which had been pretty cleaned out but there’s always something left behind before a building is abandoned

I never got caught , despite all the pens literally saying “ Town Hall ” on them

- Snuck into the family storage shed occasionally to rummage through boxes looking for items that were once my mother’s, because my dad wouldn’t let me have much of hers so I liberated my favorite things and he’d just assume that he gave them to me


- Somehow managed to put back together a broken satellite tv remote so well that it actually worked better

- The first day of seventh grade we were told that we weren’t allowed snacks in class.

The SECOND day I started a black market for snacks and succeeded in running it for the next few years until my graduation as a senior ( my middle school and high school and the junior high were all held in the same buildings on the same campus and it’s still that way now )


- Was forced to join a church youth group and proceeded to do my best to get thrown out of both the group and the church

“ How many apostles did Jesus have ?”

“ Oh you mean his gay boyfriends? Like 12? ”

“ AUBREY YOU CAN’T SAY THAT ”

“ Oh I’m sorry was Jesus in the closet?”

“ You mean Jesus had wine blood? How wasted was he ? Was Peter his designated walk home buddy ? ”

“ Y'all ever heard of science ? There’s no way that Adam and Eve were real , women aren’t made from rib bones . This reeks of old school pothead fever dreams ”

“ YOU DARE QUESTION THE BIBLE ”

“ Well yeah ???? It was ‘written’ centuries ago and we don’t even have proof the authors actually existed ? And where’s the original oldest copy ? Huh?”


“ You can’t question the word of God! The book of Mormon is sacred!”

“ The book of Mormon was written by a white man who was an active con artist and nobody can verify how he wrote it because he claimed a magic pair of tools channeled God and told him what to write. ”

My efforts to be the heathen were in vain and only resulted in the church trying to save my soul


14
- Started a small cult of nature loving kids and we studied nature magic and convinced elderly people we were witches


- Found a secret hidden room in my school that had two vending machines in it , and they would give free drinks and candy ? I’m convinced I slipped into a pocket reality or something , but it meant I always had a convient hiding spot complete with free snacks

For some reason no one else knew where it was???? It was located just off this little staircase by the gyms , and the room looked straight out of a video game I mean ….

The walls were concrete and graffitied and had this weird off-yellow color to them, one wall looked like it once was a cafeteria order window but it was boarded up so now the counter was just this weird shelf

And the vending machines were always lit up all bright and cheery but gave off this slightly eldritch feeling red glow, and never ran out of anything ???


There was also ALWAYS change in the change returns and one of them would eerily start spitting out dollar bills and coins ( but strangely only when I needed money ???)


There were exactly three chairs in the room, one of which had my name painted on it crypticly ( freaked me the fuck out but I was also hella curious so I kept coming back ) and the others were blank as though the destined students hadn’t yet arrived

I went to that room that I nicknamed The Alter Room every chance I got and there was always some new little detail to notice ????????


New graffiti , different candy in the machine , the chairs had moved , etc.


I keep meaning to base a novel around this weird occurrence in my youth but I don’t know who’d read it ….


Eventually I brought close friends into the room ( half because I wanted to see if the two unclaimed chairs changed ) but I swear that even with more of us going in it was like our own Room of Requirement , the teachers couldn’t find it


They remodeled the whole campus in my senior year, and The Alter Room just went up in smoke the day before construction started . I asked around but none of the workers had seen a room that matched the description.


To this day I am convinced I’ll find The Alter Room again , it’s out there waiting for me and its two other chosen ones

-Smuggled books into my Seminary class and blatantly read them instead of the religious stuff

- Called out my Seminary teacher for not teaching the important roles of women in the religious texts and for sexism

“ And then the whore,Mary Magdalene -”

“ Excuse me but it’s the twenty first century why are you slut shaming my girl Mary ? ”

“Don’t use the word slut in here! ”

“ Then don’t call her a whore! She had sex outside of marriage that’s all , and even if she WAS a sex worker or was super into sex, why do YOU get to judge that? Mr.Davis you’ve got six kids and another on the way , five of your kids are girls ! Would you call your baby girl a slut ? I mean you enjoy hookups , clearly , maybe you’re the slut here. ”


- amazed gasps from class -

“ Mary Magdalene was - ”

“ SHE WAS GOOD ENOUGH FOR JESUS SO SHUT UP ”

I got kicked out of class but hey it was worth it


15

- Convinced my biology teacher to keep a baby bat as a pet ( we found it stuck in a chimney poor baby ) , we named him Bruce Wayne and the whole class loved him he was our smol friend

Eventually we let Bruce go into the wild but we had a blast raising him and learned a lot about bats


- Wrote a short story with a plot twist so shocking that my English teacher ( who was also the principal) claimed to need therapy

- The Dragonlance Fiasco * ( which resulted in a three hour manhunt and my narrowly escaping being thrown into a mental hospital )

- I stole pudding . Like , a LOT of pudding. The cafeteria had lots of pudding cups and I knew the back entrance to the kitchen so when the school closed for the day I just…..swiped a few .
Nobody caught on , apparently they would just throw out unused pudding at the end of the week anyway so I was just liberating pudding

I sold it out of my locker for like a dollar each I made good money


Anyway it’s now about 2 am here so I’m gonna sleep and try not to think of the vaguely disturbing Alter Room

okay, hi. it’s me—the annoyance in this fandom. and i’d like to talk about something, so bear with me.

there’s a problem in this fandom that doesn’t need to be discussed. why not? it’s not up for discussion, basically. it’s up to you all to sit back and learn that this shit you all are pulling needs to be stopped. period.

i’m breaking it up to a couple of core parts so you all know what i’m talking about.

first of all, let’s talk about the islamophobia and racism in this fandom.

here’s the deal: shut up and listen. is that too hard? then just shut up and close your browser. delete your blog. take a walk. go on with your shitty life.

i don’t know why this needs to be explained—seriously. i don’t understand it. it’s not physics or the study of runes. it’s the basic thing called logic thinking and common decency at the least.

you’re all doing something incredibly harmful and it’s not okay. when you started calling a brown character a rat i—i thought it was a joke. and when it was pointed out it’s racist, by people of colour in this fandom, you kept doing it. why? do you take enjoyment in calling brown people rats? do you think you can get away with it? guess you can, but you can stop doing it to people of colour. it’s disgusting.

next. the idea of this season is: please don’t let me be misunderstood. the reverse of this? please don’t let me be understood. just so we’re clear. there’s no reverse. the song was in reverse, the message was clear. so you can shut up about that.

so when the fight broke up, and sana was hiding in the bathroom stall, what did we hear? the two white random, irrelevant white girls talking about how they thought (assumed, didn’t know but talked anyway) it was about homosexuality, and how muslims are homophobic. was it there for the lols? no. it was there for us. to know. that it wasn’t about that.

my point: shut the fuck up about it. it’s tiresome, getting old, it’s toxic. if you keep talking about this, you’re spreading harmful messages to others. what messages? that muslims are homophobic. which they can be, i’m not saying some aren’t. i’m saying that that’s not the point of this season and that non-muslims are equally likely to be homophobic. don’t believe me? wow, i guess it’s something that has been fed to you by media representation and… dare i say it? people talking shit of shit they don’t know on social platforms. precisely what you’re doing right now.

second thing we need to talk about: the series. yes! let’s talk about what content we have right now and why us people of colour and why muslims are upset, shall we? (note: we have all the right to be upset.)

let’s first get this out of the way: we know it’s written this way to prove some point later on in the season. probably something along the lines of muslim and brown boys not all being homophobic and shit. you know. that thing you keep shutting your eyes from. we understand that, we know that.

we’re just. not. happy. about how it’s written. it’s kind of doing a lot of damage right now. look at some of the messages some people (people of colour, muslims, muslim people of colour) receive. and what we should be getting is much more healthy scenes between muslims, muslims and people of non-faith, people of colour and white people, to weigh up to the damage its doing. we don’t get that much of that. and it’s frustrating, because we understand why (sana’s lonely) but there are so many ways to portray loneliness than completely erase healthy interactions between people on the fucking screen.

don’t bring up the hei briskeby videos, because they don’t count. i’m talking about the real episodes here. the real clips. the clips that the casual viewer will watch.

so yes. the series itself is… partially at fault here. the writing, i would say. especially filming only the people of colour in a fight and—wow. that chokehold they had on the only black guy? yikes.

what’s worse is that they surely know—or at least have a slight idea—of what outbreak their clips will give. and they keep doing it. keep feeding this shit to us, and leave us to either deal with it, or completely shut down our inboxes. which results into people thinking we’re selfish, because we don’t answer their wish to learn more about culture and islam and the experiences people of colour have.

third thing we need to talk about: vilde and noora. yup. i’m putting them on the agenda.

i, as a lesbian of colour, wholeheartedly believe that vilde’s character is poorly written this season. she’s obviously not too different from earlier seasons, but she’s definitely had more emphasis on her ignorance, and how that ignorance is dealt with is—less acceptable. i do believe, on top of that, that she will be “redeemed” (i’m just not sure i’ll buy into it) and that she will learn, apologise and maybe grow the last episode or something, since we won’t be getting any more.

but what bugs me the most about the way they’re writing her this season is that, she’s coded as possibly lesbian (or bi, if you prefer, but i’m gonna talk about her being lesbian, and you can make your own post about her being bisexual). and she’s literally the only character fully coded this way. if you’re interested in why, just… google it. believe it or not, we aren’t google. but the key point is that she is doing a lot of what us lesbians perceive as compulsory heterosexuality. and they completely villainised a potential lesbian this season which is just falling into the same shit people have done over and over again. lesbians are bad, lesbians are racist, lesbians are this and fucking that and that pisses me off. if, by the off chance, she eventually is canonically declared as lesbian, i’m not sure i will rejoice or throw my phone through my computer screen. they ruined her character to me, they ruined a (coded) lesbian to me, a lesbian, simply because they wanted to put her to be the ignorant girl who keeps shitting all over sana.

and noora. man. i’m not too mad about noora as a character herself. she’s flawed, she has her good moments and shit. but she takes up so much of her own storyline from sana’s. it’s a mess. she’s talking about herself, her problems with dickhelm, and sure, that’s what friends do—talk about what bothers you. but we’re so frustrated that she’s once again on the screen, talking about the same old thing, and rip the minutes that could’ve been spent on sana from our hands.

don’t get me wrong. we all know that sana is a listener. but there’s a line. and they jump over it, time and time again.

and then there’s the misogyny in this fandom that needs to be addressed. and this is a harder one, because it’s hard to spot.

during the course of season three—up to this day, i see this shit—people keep shitting on sonja and emma for no other reason than them being girls who got hurt in the process. sonja? remember her? she got cheated on. and while even kept saying he felt controlled by her you somehow got the idea that she’s toxic. she isn’t. a toxic relationship would not end with isak thanking sonja for the help she’s given. she knows even and—well, at the most, she might have been a bit controlling because she doesn’t understand that even is his own person with or without his bipolar disorder.

and emma? she outed isak, which is fucked up and there’s no excuse. but stop thinking she’s the absolute villain to isak’s life because she’s a girl, who got hurt, in the process. accept that, move on, because isak sure did.

you thought i’d end there? really? nope. ain’t gonna happen. i’m gonna bring up vilde specifically again.

you think she’s just a dumb ignorant islamophobe? partially true. she’s islamophobic and is not a good friend to sana. she’s ignorant, yes. but you’re reducing her character to something she isn’t. you’re reducing her to the blonde dumb girl, which is just as shitty as people defending her islamophobic behaviour. her islamophobia does not correlate to her dealing with whatever she’s dealing with (compulsory heterosexuality, if you will), but if you reduce her to a two-dimensional character it’s quite misogynistic itself. if you’re woman and doing that—check yourself in the mirror.

same goes for noora, basically, but i don’t think anyone is genuinely despising her for anything else than the shitty line here and there and the serious screentime she’s clocking.

we also had a run in with the lovely subjects of biphobia and ableism too. you all can’t stop anywhere, can you?

since we aren’t discussing, let me just point out these things:

bisexuality does not equate to cheater. a cheater can be of any sexuality. the stereotype is that bisexual people are cheaters is harmful and it ends here. whether a bisexual person/character has cheated can be discussed without bringing in their bisexuality to the conversation.

and mental illness… it seems it’s harder for you to grasp this part. so let me put it this way: think of the most embarrassing shit you’ve done. called your teacher mum and everyone laughed? peed yourself in public? pretended to talk on the phone and your phone ended up ringing? whatever. the most embarrassing shit you’ve done. think of that. feel what you felt at that point. oh my god, what did people think of you?

do you want your crush or your partner of a few months know… that? say it involved a second person. say you… shat yourself on your best friend’s expensive, newly bought couch, felt so embarrassed you left the house and deleted all your social media and never answered their calls.

say your partner brings them up.

would you… tell them that?

i don’t mean to trivialise mental illness here (i’m struggling with my own). it’s much more complex (guilt, self-blaming, embarrassment, sadness) than what i’m saying here. i’m just breaking it down to a point where hopefully even the most abled person can understand.

you’re expecting someone who deals with this every day to just tell their partner. it’s not that easy. it’s a lot of compartmentalising that needs to be done, so you can tell that story without breaking down completely. what happened to even broke him enough to switch to a new school. that’s not something you just tell someone, regardless if you’re together with them, without having thought it through for weeks—even months—and analysed each possible turnout and reaction. that’s not something you tell someone unless you really, really, really need to.

that’s not to say that it’s… bad. that even and sana weren’t honest with isak from the start. but it’s what it is. even isn’t perfect. sana isn’t perfect. isak isn’t perfect. none of these characters are completely perfect. why not? because they’re supposed to be realistic, human and resound to us. we’re supposed to be able to relate to them, in a way.

lastly, but most importantly: stop thinking you’re so bloody entitled to send shitty asks to people, especially the muslims, people of colour and disabled people of this fandom.

now that i’ve said my piece, kindly don’t find your way into my inbox and think it’s time to discuss. as i said, it’s not up for discussion.

don’t understand what i’m talking about? congratulations, you just won the prize: read this post again until you get it.

peace the fuck out.

Montgomery x Reader Imagine (Part 2/?)

NOTE: Thanks for the good feed back, guys! So here comes part 2, unfortunately I’m stupid and in the middle of writing I realised I wrote this one in first person. Anyway, tell me which person do you prefer (I can try the third next time lol). This one is bit longer than the previous one, I hope you’ll like it xx

***
I spent most of the Saturday with Sheri so I didn’t have much time to think about the hot tub thing, but Sunday… Most of the day I sat at my room, reading book, even though better word would be holding. I stared at one page for an hour and haven’t read a single word.
Was I too hard on him? I mean, I joked around and made innuendos with all the jocks all the time, including Monty, but leaving him like that in the hot tub is something on a whole new level.
Whatever, he started it and he deserved it. But memories of his lips and if his hands on my body still gave me chills.
Fuck you, Montgomery, I whispered.

Next day at school wasn’t anything special until I came to the chemistry lesson, a little bit late.
“Please, take a sit, Ms. Y/L.N”, teacher barely even looked at me.
I looked around the classroom and spotted last empty chair. Next to Montgomery.  
“You gotta be kidding me”, I mumbled under my breath.
“Hey, you”, I sat on my chair.
“Hey”, he kinda acted normal, kinda stared at me.
“How was the rest of the party, huh? You smoked some weed, play some video games?”, why am I like this, why did I even started this topic.
“I had to jack off in the hot tub. Because of you”, he whispered through his clenched teeth.
“Ew, does Bryce know about it?”, I prayed for him to shut up, afraid that someone would hear something and honestly, I couldn’t imagine anything some embarassing than people finding out that two of us made out.
“You will regret it.”
“Yeah, right”, I snorted.
His hand went behind me and his fingers started running along my spine. I tensed up trying not to show that it had an effect on me.
“Okay class”, teacher finally started lesson, “most of this semester, you’ll work in pairs, so look at your neighbour and say Hi to your new partner”.
I slowly turned my head to look at Montgomery, now disgusted even more then when he mentioned jacking off in the hot tub.
“What did you get in chemistry last semester?”, I asked.
“What do I need to play in the team?”
“C average or above”, everyone in sports teams said it like a mantra, it was literally the only condition, that has to be fulfilled to be in the team. “So it was C?”, I guessed.
“Well, yeah, what did you get?”
“A”, I sighed knowing all the work would be on me this semester.

Next day I was in cafeteria, waiting in the line to get my food, wearing my cheerleader suit.
“You’re looking good, you know?”, I heard annoying voice behind me.
“Why don’t you just get ‘lookin’ good’ tattoed on your face?”, I answered bored. “Besides, you have seen me in cheerleader suit a thousand times.”
“Yeah, but last Friday I took a good look at you in bathing suit…”
“No way”, I interrupted him with sarcastic tone.
“… And now I know what’s under it”, he continued.
“What has gotten into you today?”, I asked, little bit shocked with his dirty talk.
“I told you, you will regret”, he whispered.
“So you gonna sexually harrass me for the rest of my life?”, I turned around to look at him and saw Clay Jensen coming up.
“Hey, Jensen”, I said bit louder so he could hear.
He waved at me and smiled.
“Did you talk to Jeff?”, I asked. “US history and English will be kicking his ass once again.”
“Yeah, I spoke to him and yeah I will tutor him”, he said as he walked by.
“Thank you”, I gave him a high five. “You’re da best.”
“Thanks, Y/N”.
“Real MVP!”, you shouted and he laugh.
I finally got my food, grabbed the tray and went to the table not waiting for Monty. I barely sat went Jessica came over with a smile on her face.
“Okay, bitches, party at my place, Friday, 7pm”, she said, punched my arm and went.
“Seriously, you have to stop doing it! Where are you going?”, I shouted.
“To spread the news!”

Friday came up and I really didn’t feel like coming. Again.
“You always complain, but still come go the party and have a great time”, Jess said when we were walking home from school. “So stop making up excuses, or I swear I’ll slap you.”
“You can’t fight with an argument like this, I guess”, I sighed.
My parents didn’t have anything against the party, they didn’t put much interest in me as long as my grades were good and I was in cheerleaders team.

I showed up at Jessica’s at 7, and was one of the firsts, because 7 really mean 9, but it was okay. My plan was to get buzzed (and I really wanted to get drunk that night) before party starts for good and to avoid Montgomery. Good thing was that after Tuesday talk in cafeteria he kinda stopped annoying me.
By 10 pm I was properly drunk, so when Justin asked if I want to play spin the bottle with him and few other people of course I was like “Duh, fuck yeah”. I sat the floor between Sheri and Zach.
“Hey, Monty, you play?”, Zach asked and moved slightly making place for Montgomery to sit between us.
It didn’t really bothered me, because last three days he had been acting normal, so I thought he finally accepted the fact he got played.
After few spins bottle pointed at me, I leaned towards Troy and gave him a quick kiss. I spinned the bottle and it pointed Monty. With poker I turned to him and kissed him as quickly as I did with Troy. He spinned and it pointed on me again.
“Seriously?!”, I sighed.
He quickly wrapped his arm around my neck, turned us, so people couldn’t really see our faces and kissed me stucking his tongue in my mouth. It lasted way too long than typical kiss in the game.
“At least first bring her a drink, Montgomery”, Justin said and threw chips in our direction.
“Easy, hot head”, I mumbled as I moved away without looking at his face.
Few minutes later game was over, mostly because Jessica and Justin turned it into make out session. I got up and went to the kitchen, to make myself another drink and grab something to eat.
One minute later I felt someone smacked my ass.
“Did you just…”, I didn’t even have to look to know who it was. “You’re fucking disgusting, you know that?”
“Maybe, but somehow I think you you’re into it and you like what is going on between us”, he took a sip of my drink without asking.
“Oh my God, you’re also fucking ridiculous”, I said with my eyes wide open. “I’m too sober for that shit”, I drank whole drink at once.
“You swallow fast”, he said with cocky smirk on his face.
“One more word and I’ll throw up at you, I swear”.
“Yo, Y/N”, I heard Jeff calling my name.  “Wanna go for a beer run with me?”
“With pleasure”, I answered and run to him without even looking and Monty.
In the car Jeff told me how he helped Clay and Hannah with their twisted situation, clearly proud of himself that for once he turned out to be smarter than Clay.
“You’re good guy, Atkins”, I smiled at him. “All you want is to play baseball, have a good grades and help Clay with Hannah and that’s beautiful.”
“Oh, come on, I’m gonna blush”, he laughed.
“No seriously, I will tell every girl that you’re the most pure, sweetest cinnamon roll and that you’re different than others and don’t care about scoring".
Weird grin showed up on his face.
“You already scored today, didn’t you?”, I punched him in the arm. “I take my words back, you’re awful”, I laughed. “How does it happen that everyone make out with everyone, except me?“
“You know…”, Jeff moved in the seat. “It’s probably cause you always seem so… tied… And stressed”
“Excuse me?”, I turned on the seat.
“Well, you know, compared to other cheerleaders… Look, they don’t give a shit about anything, they don’t give a shit about school, about grades, they don’t give a shit even about cheerleading. And you care about everything and that’s why you seem more stressed than them”, he tried to explain. “Take a chill pill, make out with someone, have some fun”, he punched my arm.
(Un)fortunately his words and the drink I drank and once before leaving for beer run, both hit me at the same time. Super drunk me decided to make out with somebody. Anybody. We came back, I left the car and started walking towards Jessica’s home, having big troubles with walking in straight line.  
“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, just be careful”, Jeff shouted for me.
“Yeah, yeah”, I mumbled getting into the house.
I looked around and spotted Montgomery sitting on the couch, doing something of his phone. I went there, sat next to him and put my hand on his thigh.
“It’s a party, Monty, put this phone away and have some fun”, I said.
“Huh, look who’s gotten friendly”, he looked at me suspiciously.
“I know, I’ve been a bitch but I went for that beer run with Jeff, you know, and I realized some things”.
“Really, what things, for example?”, he put his arm around me.
I didn’t answer him, I stared at his face instead, giggling.
“God, you’re handsome”, I said glancing at his lips.
“Okay, here’s what we gonna do”, he leaned towards me and whispered into my ear, “I’m gonna go upstairs, to Jessica’s room, and you’ll join me in few minutes”, his lips were touching my ear.
I nodded my head, Monty quickly kissed me on the neck and basically run upstairs.
“I’m gonna get laid”, I mumbled to myself. “I think I’m gonna get laid.”
“Hey Y/N”, Jessica jumped on the couch.
“Where have you been, I was looking for you.”
“I was on a beer run with Jeff.”
“Goood, I was afraid we run out of alcohol, but then Jeff came in like a Superman with sixpacks”, she giggled.
“I think I need some water”, I smiled at her and left to the kitchen, I need to get rid of her.
I poured myself a water, drank it and run upstairs. When I opened door to Jessica’s room, it was dark inside. I closed and locked the door.
“Montgomery?”, I whispered.
I heard steps behind me, second later Monty pushed me to the wall, grabbed my wrists put them above my head. His hands went down the sides of my body, until he grabbed my thighs and pulled me up, so I could wrap my legs around his waist.
He laid me on the bed his lips went from my down neck to collarbones and started sucking it just like a week ago.
“Monty”, I punched his arm.
He pulled up, stroked cheek, and said, “Today I make the rules”, shiver went down my spine.
“Fuck”, I mumbled.
His hand went from my thigh to my breast and squizzed it. The other one pulled dress up, he started kissing my stomach, getting lower and lower, sucked my belly button, probably causing huge hickey around it, but I really fucking didn’t care. His head went up and he kissed my lips again. I felt his fingers sliding into panties which only turned me on more.
I started unbottoning his shirt but he grabbed both of my wrists with spare hand.
“Keep your hands yourself”, he whispered and slided his fingers into me.
I scratched his back.
“You like that?”, he asked as he curled his fingers and pumped them again and again.
“Fuck, Montgomery, I want you, just fuck me already”, I moaned.
“Does it turn you on?”, another pump.
I nodded my head and bit my lip trying to not make any noices. It was dark, my eyes were closed, butcould sense fucking cocky smirk on his face. He slided out of me and sat bed.
“Monty, why did you stop?”, I also sat on bed and switched the light on.
He bottoned up two bottons I had undo and fixed his hair.
“What the fuck are you doing?”, I asked.
He stood up, leaned towards me and looking me in the eyes said, “Guess you can’t play the player, huh?”
“Are you kidding me?”, I shouted.
“It was fun, see you on Monday”, he unlocked the door, smiled at me and left the room.
I sat there speechless for a few good minutes.
“What the fuck did just happen?”, I asked myself out loud.
I fixed my hair, took a deep breath and decided to go back to the party.
“Fucking bastard”, I mumbled.
I went down and sat on the couch next to Jess.
“Why don’t you have any drink?”, she asked.
“I’m good, thanks”.
“You know, to be honest, you look a little fucked, break will be good for you”, she said, even though she was the one who was barely able to speak. “ Where the fuck is Justin?”, she looked around.
“He’s playing beer pong with Montgomery”, Alex Standall sat on a chair in front of us.
“Cool, thanks Alex”, Jessica got up. “You’re not coming?”, she asked me.
“No thanks, I’m good, just gonna sit for a while”, I answered but she was gone before I even stopped talking. “How’s the party, Alex?”
“I love her”, he mumbled, looking after Jess.
“Oh God”, I rolled my eyes. “You two dated for like two months, year ago, seriously man, get over it”.
“It’s love. It’s not logic”, he sighed.
“Alex, I’m not saying this because I’m a bitch or because I root for Jessica and Justin. I’m saying this because you’re good and you deserve to be happy, okay? Move. On.”
Said me. Person who couldn’t get over the fact that she got played by a player because she tried to get him played. Hypocrisy at it’s finest.
I walked around the house, looking for Jeff, who was supposed to drive me home. Instead I bumped on Sheri. I pretended to listen to her while I was discretly watching Montgomery talking to some girl, wrapping his disgusting arm around her.
“…are you even listening to me?”, she shaked my arm.
“Umm, yeah, I was just… Looking at driveway, but I can’t spot Jeff’s car”, I lied quickly, in the meantime Monty got back inside.
“He went for another beer run”.
“Okay, I gotta go”, I smiled at her and went to the house.
I saw de la Cruz shouting something to Justin as he was walking upstairs and then got into bathroom.
I got you, you little fucker, I thought, went upstairs and stood next to door as if I was waiting in the line.
“Are you waiting to get to the bathroom?”, Troy, the baseball player, patted my shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, I am”, I had to get rid of him, “Umm, you know… I feel a little bit sick, so it may take a moment…”
“Are you gonna throw up?”
“Maybe… As I said, it may take a moment. But you can use bathroom downstairs, it’ll probably be faster.”
“Good idea, you’re smart”, he pointed at me. “Take care, Y/N”
“Bye, Troy”, I chuckled watching him, when he was trying not to kill himself on the stairs.
And I heard door getting unlocked. Montgomery opened them and then I pushed him back inside and locked the doors again.
“We are finishing it now”, I said, grabbed his neck and kissed him.