#I know nothing about the American school system
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Y'all listen just because you learned something in school doesn't mean everyone else did.
idk how y'all got this idea in ur heads that we all learned the same shit when literal book bans are happening in schools across the united states and certain subjects are being banned from ever being talked about. (do not even get me started on the fact different countries have different curriculum too) Like you cannot say "You guys obviously just didn't pay attention in school and are stupid because we all learned this" like you are ignoring like 50 other options as to why people may not have learned this ranging from poorly funded school to disabled kid getting shoved into special ed classes which are often notorious for mistreating their disabled students.
I'm begging you all to understand the nuance of why certain skills and abilities aren't as widely spread as you assume they should be.
#text#some of you are creeping a bit to close to ablism and it's getting real ucomfortable#'everyone learned media literacy in school' except in the schools where they just told you what to think.#except in the schools where they didn't want you to learn critical thinking so that they could push an agenda without you questioning it#except in schools where books or subjects that would require this skill got banned and thus it was never learned#unless the school was underfunded and couldn't afford the proper materials to teach it#unless your teacher was bad and didn't bother to properly teach you#unless your teacher and school was ablist and refused to teach you#unless your schooling was disrupted by a sudden pandemic that may of forced you into an environment that made it more difficult to learn#unless literally anything else besides 'you didn't listen and are thus stupid' because i can assure you we were listening#maybe instead of blaming a huge portion of the population of suddenly becoming stupid or not paying attention in class#maybe you could realize that this is a failure on the American school system as a whole#at some point you can't keep blaming the students for failing when it's this many students#at some point you gotta realize it's the system and blaming the individual does nothing#btw i didn't talk about other country curriculum because I'm not knowledgeable enough to know how good other school systems are#but i know more about american school systems and how much they suck and so many of these ppl complaining mean american schools anyways#but i am aware of other countries having wide variety of curriculum and how weird ppl get about that especially with usa centrism online#i just dont feel like i can give a good enough commentary on that that other non-usa ppl haven't already given 10x better than i ever could
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about to complain about stupid shit im seeing on twitter before realising this is my own fault for reading twitter
#um.txt#just saw a bunch of americans argue that nobody should be expected to know about the suffragettes and actually youre#being rude about their inadequate school system for correcting them when they say british terfs are appropriating the#genderqueer flag.....#😭 if youre in your 20s and have an account that posts a lot of gender i think its actually on you if you know nothing about#history outside your own country...
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Tuned into the Grammy's for a bit & it was honestly the reminder I needed on why I don't tune into these things.
Funny thing is that there's legit info out in the world on how the Oscar's work & how it has nothing to to with the movies & everything to do with the money, branding & merchandise (sent over to the members of the academy who usually do not watch the movies at all & are often v open about it 🙃) & we still somehow as a society treat it as some sort of indicator.
Haven't looked into the inner Grammy's workings too close but it's probably a twin situation.
Even 'fair' awards would be controversial in most categories -with art being so subjective. But man oh man why would we ever trust a bunch of members of an American organization made up of super-privileged & out-of-touch folks to - of all people - tell us what music is actually "the best" 🫠
#oh and about AM in particular -#it's silly in the first place how you've got this category that manages to pit the lyrical & musical genius of Mirrorball against songs#that go like 'i went to school and I got a degree/all my frienda call it the big D' over and over in one rhythm#and like! I really don't want to shame any artists! because there's room for all of the types of art#but it's crazy that these two are suddenly put into competition against each other in any category at all. They've got nothing in common#and it looks pretty silly to me when you compare the two in any way & end up saying that the latter won...in any way#I'm sorry! it's strange. maybe im contradicting myself. but ANYWAY#most imporant thing to take out of all this: this doesn't mean shit#another thing to just remember overall: the Monkeys have always been smart guys open about the fact they know that this doesn't mean shit#Peace Out! ✌️#fuck the system and don't let the american CEOs get you down 🙃#(yes that one may be personal)#(even though I'm very much from Europe. US has very big range & lots of control over the world)#(which is also why we should be as defiant about it as possible and not just let them so easily have that monopoly over pop-culture)#(alright bye / I should stop ranting in tags in the middle of the night; truly)#shouting into the tumblr void#Grammy's#Grammy Arctic Monkeys
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I wonder: Do Americans know about american school buses? Not their existence in general, but how they're seen overseas.
Over here, they're one of the symbols of America, on par with the Statue of Liberty, the flag, the Eagle, and well ahead of any chain restaurant you can name. People won't know any US states, but they will know these vehicles.
The thing is, here in Germany, we don't have dedicated school buses. The general idea is that kids go to school on their own. When that's not practical, they're expected to use (and given free tickets for) public transit. Public transit is designed around this requirement; there are many places where there is a bus, and anyone can get on it, but the route and timetable really only makes sense for school children. In case a dedicated school bus is really needed, that's generally subcontracted out, and the lines either use something like a Sprinter Van for smaller routes, or a normal city or interurban bus (often a used one that's a bit older). School trips are normal public transit, or a rented bus, typically a coach or regional bus.
It's not a perfect system, in the past couple of years there's been an epidemic of people bringing their kids to school in their cars instead of letting them walk, which is less than ideal. It is what it is. But building a dedicated network of public transit lines only for students, and building dedicated vehicles only for that, has never occurred to anyone here.
Of course we know about these buses, from movies and such, but they're as foreign here as cacti or pick-up trucks (actually we're seeing more and more of these here) or yellow cabs (all europeans will assume all cabs in the US are yellow until they actually visit).
You do see these buses here at times, because people still generally like the idea of the US, even if they have a lot of issues with a lot of details, and so folks bring them over, along with stretch limos and stuff (also not really a thing here). And of course, if someone goes to all that trouble, they don't do it to haul school kids, they rent it out for city tours or as a party bus or whatever.
So you see these yellow things as a symbol of faraway places, scenic vistas, some vague undefined idea of freedom that doesn't necessarily hold up to any contact with reality, and it's just a huge part of the whole US aesthetic.
And then you go to a student exchange with the US, and you finally get the chance: You yourself get to ride in one of these iconic chrome yellow buses! It looks just like in the movies! You get in, you drive in them a little…
…and you realise they're shit. Just the worst buses in the western world. Terrible suspension. Uncomfortable seats with weirdly high backs (so they don't have to put seatbelts in, they just restrict how far kids can fly in an accident). Everything made out of the cheapest materials. Turns out the reason why the US uses school buses like that instead of normal modern city buses, which the US has, is to save money and because they just hate kids.
And then it hits you why US Americans say "as American as apple pie", a dish that is made and enjoyed literally anywhere in the world, instead of "as American as yellow school buses". Of course the Americans already knew all this. They got tortured by these things forever. It would never occur to them to see this as a symbol of America, it's just a normal part of life for them. It's a symbol of school and school life and sometimes normalcy, and tells us that these actors getting out of it are supposed to be teenagers, nothing more.
But most people in Europe have, of course, never ridden on these buses. So when they see them in movies and TV, that's a giant big yellow signifier that we're not in Hessen or Wallonia or wherever anymore. A symbol of a different world, one that may be at most a once-in-a-lifetime-experience for most people, just like a picture of a tropical beach, Mayan Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, or Hildesheim (there's no reason to go there twice). And I think Americans don't know that, and that's fascinating.
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Popular Hades & Persephone "retellings" are, rightly, getting dunked on all over the socials right now and, as a Pagan who has an altar to the Queen, I could not be happier. But also, I feel like a lot of people miss WHY they're bad - aside from just plain bad writing and lazy tropes. Which are, yeah, also REALLY bad.
Pretty much all retellings try to wave away, or excuse, or twist the whole kidnapping bit. And I actually do have sympathy and understanding for why, when speaking from a modern perspective.
But honestly...you gotta get over it. There are other stories to play fix-it with, not this one.
The Abduction is The Thing.
Were I a little more sober I could bring up chapter and verse of the Hymn to Demeter but frankly, if you know even the middle school mythology curriculum version of the story, you SHOULD know the themes. The story of Persephone was one mothers and daughters in the ancient world held dear, because it was a reality: you will, one day, be swept away from your home to go cleave to a man you most likely know nothing about. You will miss your mother, but chances are very good that he will be a good husband, once you get to know him, certainly better than Zeus or Ares, and he will make you a queen of his home.
Leaving home to marry was often scary, and violent (look up the history of the tradition of Bridesmaids, if you don't already know it - they were originally decoys on the marriage road). Centuries later we'd have tales like Beauty & The Beast serving the same function: comfort, hope, you are leaving your safe loving home to figure life out with a (often older, powerful) stranger. Your trauma over this sudden ending of your childhood made manifest in a Beast, or a God of The Underworld.
It's wonderful that we don't NEED stories like this anymore to comfort us (here, at least, in this culture). But if you try to force them into modern vernacular it just will not work, not really, because you're gutting out the whole point just to have a more tidy romantic male hero.
I have read MANY very good ...novelizations? fanfic(? however you would frame them, but they're certainly not "retellings"), etc. that simply take advantage of the blank spaces in the myth, and there are many!
It's not explicit that sexual assault happens - "The Rape of Persephone" as a title was coined in much earlier eras, when the word was just as often used to simply refer to abduction.
"She was starving!" the gods didn't need to eat. So it's easy to read her eating the Pom seeds as a deliberate choice on her part. Like, shit, people, scholars have written whole papers on the symbolism of this moment, between marriage rites and even yeah, Seph choosing both worlds with her husband's knowing consent.
And that, I think, is the real heart of the thing. People want an utterly mundane, spelled-out story here, as opposed to what it really is, has always been, just like any other myth or religious parable: IT'S A METAPHOOOOOOR.
They don't need to be destined, or meet at a goddamned BALL and then CONSPIRE to fake her kidnapping, or shit, I once saw one where Hades got MIND CONTROLLED by Zeus?! Jesus.
Persephone was yoinked into the Underworld against her will.
That's how it went.
I don't mean this in a "stay out of my belief system!" way, shit I'm a white American chick with delusions of witchery. I mean this in a "stop stressing yourself out trying to make things palatable" way:
This is a very real, very precious myth to many people, BECAUSE for at least that one event, Persephone had no autonomy, BECAUSE for thousands of years most women had no autonomy. Erasing that, sanitizing the fact that a girl is ripped out of the spring, from her mother's arms, is erasing the thing that gave comfort to women for centuries. And people can and should still find power and healing in it now!
Fill in the blanks the story leaves in whatever manner seems fit to you, there's plenty of room, but. Come the fuck on.
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How to Nail your School Essays
Not to brag, but I’m kind of a big deal when it comes to essays at my school. Since I started highschool I haven’t received a grade less than 90% on an essay—so I’m here to share my secret. This works for the classic essay, but you can also use the same advice and fit it to formal reports or other academic writing.
1. Your essay is about 2 things, demonstrated 3 or more times
This is how I’ve always thought about essays. They’re about two ideas, demonstrated as many times as you need to fill the wordcount. Shakespeare + Feminism, Media + Truth versus Misconception, etc. etc. If you’re lucky, your teacher or prof will give you one of your elements. You’ll get assignments like, “write an essay about Hamlet” or “write an essay about the American dream” lucky you, that’s your first thing—now you need to connect it with another.
This connecting idea is my favourite part because you just get to choose a concept or idea you’re interested in. Here’s a tip, if your first/given topic is something concrete, choose an abstract connecting idea. If your given topic is something abstract, choose a concrete.
So, Hamlet (concrete) could be paired with any abstract concept: Loyalty, Truth, Feminism, etc.
However, if your prof gives you something like, “truth” or “race theory”, you’ll find it much easier to connect that with a more concrete thing, like a book, movie, or other piece of media, or even a specific person.
If you are luckiest, your prof will give you both things, “write about the American Dream in The Great Gatsby” in this case, you’re onto the next stage.
2. Stick to the formula
Tried, tested, true. Nothing wrong with a formula, especially not when it gives you A+ grades. Typical essay structure is:
Intro with thesis
2. 1st Body
2a. Evidence that proves it 1
2i. Justify its relevance
2b. Evidence that proves it 2
2ii. Justify its relevance
Etc.
3. 2nd Body
3a. Evidence that proves it
3i.Justification
Etc.
4. 3rd Body
4a. Rise and repeat, you know where this is going.
5. Some may argue…
6. Conclusion
Let’s break it down.
Thesis:
Thesis completely outlines all your points, or the three+ places you’re demonstrating your connection, and why it matters.
Here is an intro + thesis I wrote a couple years ago:
“This literature review will explore the impacts influencer marketing has on the children that regularly consume social media content. Specifically, this review will focus on how influencers can impact children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, and lastly, the influx of children taking advantage of this system and becoming influencers themselves.”
Or
“Burned discusses the human aspect of sex work and reverses reader’s expectations on sex workers, while Not in My Neighbourhood discusses prostitutes as victims of a system created against them. Both challenge readers’ perceptions of sex workers, effectively drawing attention to the ethics of displacing sex workers from their cities.”
So you have your connection (children and social media)/(Burned and Not in My Neighbourhood and sex work), and the different ways you plan on exploring or proving that idea (children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, children becoming influencers.) etc.
You may also have a more specific stance in your thesis. Such as, “In Macbeth, ambition is shown to be Macbeth’s ultimate downfall in these three ways.”
The Body Paragraphs
You start out every body paragraph with the point of the paragraph, or what it’s aiming to prove. Such as, “Influencers often include advertisements within their content, which can encourage children to feel more amiably to certain brands their favourite content creators endorse frequently more than others.”
After this claim, you spend the rest of the paragraph further proving it through examples. This will look like citing a specific source (a book, academic journal, quote, etc.) such as, “The authors claim likeable influencers can associate their likeability with the products they use, influencing children’s perception of brands, referred to as ‘meaning transfer’ (De Veirman et al. 2019)” (super important to always cite these sources!)
The last part is after each example/proof--you need to justify why this proves your point/is important. So, “This proves children are more influenced towards certain products depending on how close of a relationship they perceive to have with the influencer.”
Typically, your evidence will all lead into each other so you can transition to the next piece of proof, then the justification, rinse and repeat until you’re finished your paragraph. You can have as many pieces of evidence as you want per paragraph, and the longer your word requirement, the more you’ll want to fit into each point (or the more bodies you want to have.)
Piece of evidence + why it matters, rinse and repeat.
Some May Argue:
This is a small paragraph just before your conclusion where you anticipate an argument your readers may have, and disprove it. So, for example, you’d start with, “Some may argue that with parent supervision, the impacts of influencers on children could be lessened or moot. However…” and then explain why they’re wrong. This strengthens your argument, and proves that you’ve really thought out your stance.
Conclusion:
Lastly, you want to sum up all the conclusions you came to in a few sentences. Your last line is one of the most important (in my opinion). I call it the mic drop moment. Leaving a lasting impact on your reader can bring your essay from an A to an A+, so you really want to nail this final sentence.
My final sentence was, “Ultimately, it is hard to know in advance how technology and social media will impact the development of children who have always grown up with some form of screen, but until they grow up, parents and caregivers need to take care in the content their children consume, and their very possible exploitation online.”
This sentence is backed by the entirety of the essay that came before it, and usually leaves a little something to chew on for the readers.
Any other tips I missed?
#writing#creative writing#writers#screenwriting#writing community#writing inspiration#filmmaking#film#books#writing advice#how to nail your school essays#essay writing#academic writing
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BUMP IN THE NIGHT (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)
roommate!gaz masterlist
summary; your halloween costume makes kyle feel things.
a/n; i’m an american trying to understand the british school system. 😭 corrections are welcomed!!
AFTER SECONDARY SCHOOL, Kyle stopped going to parties and such. He used to go to parties all the time, at the very least it would be once a week—even if the party was held on a school night. He kept up with his grades and he was pretty responsible, so he saw no reason to stop. He drank, sure—yes, perhaps he got black out drunk a couple of times, but he never did anything too reckless or dangerous. Kyle used to be the type where you would blink and he would wander off, but he grew out of that pretty quickly. He never tried to take his friends’ keys and try to drive their cars or anything, was never the type to need their phone taken away so he wouldn’t drunk-text an ex; nothing.
Even after spending his time in the British army, he didn’t really go out to party with his mates like that. Kyle would go to bars and such, but he wouldn’t try to do drinking games or challenges like he would at eardrum bursting parties held in people’s homes whilst their parents were on business trips. So imagine his surprise when you inform him you’re going to a little party—your words are “get together”, but Kyle’s convinced otherwise—you let him know the invitation you were given also extended to him, but Kyle insisted that he should stay home; hand out the candy and such. Kyle’s never been too big on Halloween, but he did celebrate it in some way. Sometimes it was used as an excuse to get together and party when he was a teenager, and he did participate in trick-or-treating as a child.
You plan on drinking at this get together, so Kyle’s been waiting by the front door with his jacket on, sneakers tied, keys in hand. He's going with you for once, but he didn’t have time to grab a costume, which you insist that it’s fine. You said you’d be done putting your costume on at least ten minutes ago, so Kyle is curious about what's taking you so long. He nearly starts walking to your bedroom to knock and check in on you, maybe you’re stuck—hell, he doesn’t even know what you’re going as—but the second his muscles twitch, he hears your door squeak open. He mentally notes that he should oil the hinges for you. “Close your eyes!” You call from behind the corner. Kyle huffs and closes his eyes. “No peeking!”
“I won’t!” Kyle responds, crossing his arms. He hears you shift around, a closed mouth sigh escaping your throat for a moment. His ears pick up your feet walking closer—you sounded, heavier? Like there was more weight on you somehow. “Wait, m’not done yet.” You grunt, adjusting something that had velcro on it. Kyle can’t stop the lip twitch at your irritated tone, like something wasn’t completely going your way and it was amusing. You shift something else, fabric rubbing against fabric. “Okay, you can look now.”
Kyle opens his eyes and his jaw drops ever so slightly when he sees what he sees; you, wearing tactical gear. Albeit, it’s airsoft tactical gear, but it’s tac-gear nonetheless. You have woodland camo on; the frogs camo jacket as well as pants on—marines inspired, he thinks—with a matching green vest, decked out in magazines of both a rifle and a pistol, some pair of scissors taped to some pliers in a pocket. There’s some fake smoke grenades and flashbangs attached to your tactical belt, and you have a radio in a pocket, a wire trailing up to your ear. You’re holding a rifle that has bright blue tape on it to indicate it’s fake—you’re going to a party, for god’s sake—and you have a thigh holster for a pistol he’s sure also has blue tape. You even have combat boots on, and your ankle bulges as if you have an ankle holster. You have a little pack attached to your tactical belt, and he spots some zip ties in an offhand pocket. The only thing you’re missing is a flag badge on your chest and your shoulder, as well as a unit badge. There’s eyeblack messily smudged underneath your eyes. Kyle laughs in disbelief and amazement, speechless for a moment. “What the fuck?”
You laugh, knowing his reaction is positive. You hold your rifle close to your chest, practicing good trigger discipline as your finger rests outside of the trigger guard. “You like it?” You ask, doing a little spin for him, allowing him to take in the details you put the effort in making. Kyle notes how heavy you sound and he laughs again. “Bloody hell, I didn’t know you were gettin’ this together! Yeah, I like it!” Kyle exclaims, approaching you. He reaches out and grabs your shoulders, moving you about as he pleases, clearly appreciating the detail. You grumble a bit as a complaint, but you let him do what he wants. “Jesus, how long did this take?” Kyle asks with an astonished tone. He’s quietly nitpicking it a bit—he is special forces, his brain cannot help it—but he overall really does like your aim for accuracy.
“Hm, well, maybe a month? A month or two?” You guess out loud, shrugging. “I wasn’t really keeping track.” Kyle snorts and shakes his head before looking at the rifle. “Before you say anything,” You utter, handing him the rifle. “It’s not an airsoft rifle, and it’s not real. My airsoft one is locked away.” Kyle blinks for a moment as he checks out the rifle, his eyes flickering between you as the gun sits in his arms so naturally. “You have an airsoft rifle??” Kyle asks, truly confused because last he checked, you didn’t play. You hum and you adjust your vest, the velcro ripping as you do so. “My friend wanted to get me into it so they gave me a lot of their old stuff. I’ve played a round or two, it’s actually fun.”
His eyebrows raise for a moment in acknowledgement and Kyle looks at you once again. His eyes slowly trace every detail of the uniform clinging to your body, the details, and the way your eyeblack is very poorly applied. Something tightens in his chest as you begin to ramble about how much research you did about tactical gear and how many pictures you used as reference. You’re murmuring something, but Kyle isn’t paying attention. His face feels a bit hot as his eyes are glued to you; he never understood why people liked tactical gear so much until now—something was.. feeling off inside of his gut.
“Kyle.”
He blinks rapidly before offering a smile and a questioning “hm?” You laugh and cross your arms in front of you, causing Kyle’s eyes to flicker away for a moment. “You spaced out.” You say, uncrossing your arms and taking the rifle from him. Kyle waves you off and rubs the back of his neck, his eyes looking towards the front door. “Mm, sure, c’mon. Let’s go.” Kyle laughs, a nervous feeling bubbling in his gut—a feeling he doesn’t understand. He opens the front door, swinging his keys around his pointer finger as his heart pounds hard in his chest. “Gonna be my DD?” You tease, Kyle hearing you close the door behind you two, hearing the gear you’re wearing shift around. Kyle refuses to look at you in fear of throwing up—he doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly so anxious—but he laughs, unlocking the car. “It is my turn, isn’t it?”
#roommate!gaz#call of duty#call of duty mwii#cod mw2#cod#mw2022#modern warfare ii#mw2 2022#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x gn!reader#kyle garrick x gn!reader#kyle gaz garrick x gn!reader#gaz <3#gaz modern warfare#i love gaz#gaz#cod gaz#gaz mw2#gaz cod#gaz call of duty#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick x you#gaz x you#mwii#cod modern warfare#modern warfare fanfiction#cod mwii#halloween special
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not so bossy
summary: An irksome feeling infests Jungkook's system when his girlfriend lets him know that she can't meet up after not seeing him for three weeks.
pairing: d1 soccer player!jungkook x reader
genre: angst, fluff
author's note: idk anything about football/soccer and yes im american so i used the term soccer 🙄lolz, also i got some inspo hearing about these famous athletes and their gfs so i pulled this out of my ass. pls enjoy (or not)! ALSO IF U HAVE ANYTHING U WANT TO TELL ME AB ANY OF MY PICS PLS PUT IT IN THE ASKS (not replies) BC THIS IS A SECONDARY BLOG
“Just because I’m not some big shot D-1 athlete doesn’t mean that my life doesn’t matter,” you grimly convey, eyebrows furrowed in pure vexation whilst your pretty lips curl down in a frown.
Jungkook exhales slightly, his pointer finger and thumb coming up to massage his temples. “Y/N, that’s not what I meant and you know it-“
“Then what the fuck did you mean?” The rapidity by which you cut him off pierces his heart like an arrow, because he’s never witnessed you being so abrasive. It hurts him to know that he’s upset you- that his inconsideration induced such a crestfallen expression from his one and only girl.
“I just didn’t want you to meet up with that guy,” Jungkook quietly explicates, unable to adeptly convey what his true intentions were: that he just missed you and didn’t want you to hang out with some other guy, even if it was just to study.
A scoff escapes your mouth, your obsidian orbs glaring bullets into him. “Jungkook, we were studying. It was for school. You of all people should understand that,” you sneer, your harsh words making his heart drop, the unpleasant feeling of guilt infesting his system, because he knows you’re right. Knows he’s been a shitty fucking boyfriend. Knows that you’ve been nothing but understanding, that you've been his personal angel ushering heaven to him, a task you accomplished everyday of every second.
Jungkook’s reticent silence tells you everything you need to know. “Don’t talk to me for the rest of the day,” you murmur quietly, though loud enough to make the words thunder in his heart. You turn your heel to walk away from him, your arms securely hugging your textbook to your chest, as if you were subconsciously shielding yourself from him. He hates that so much.
Jungkook stands frozen, unable to chase after you like he wants to. His heart is screaming at his brain make his motor system send his body after you..Instead, your figure disappears into the crowd of students flooding the hallways and he’s left there with regret plaguing his system.
How did this even happen?
Jungkook vividly remembers that dreadful text message you sent whilst he was on the bus, heading back from fall training camp.
y/n ♡: hi baby, im so so sorry. i dont think i can make it to our date tonight. this senior in my class asked me if i wanted to join a study group with him and i want to go so i do good on my final :( sorry baby.
Jungkook's lips immediately curl down at the message. Despite quite literally sharing an apartment together, he hadn't physically seen you or touched you in three weeks. With travelling out of town for a tournament for a week, and his two week long training camp immediately proceeding the tourney, he hadn't gotten the chance to come home and see you. Your absence had a deep and profound effect- he had to drown himself with intense physical training to distract himself from the fact that you weren't around.
Jungkook is a D-1 soccer player- one of the best in the nation- predicted to be one of the top picks in the first round of the Major League Soccer super draft. He takes his craft very seriously, centers most of his attention on his body and mind to refine his physical ability and ultimately become one of the best soccer players in the world. Since high school he often opted for a nasty gym session over a party, admiring Messi and Ronaldo over pretty girls, and even went to his club soccer tournaments over attending prom.
That was- until he met you.
The university you and Jungkook attended was widely renown for its impeccable soccer program- and computer science program. By God's grace was he assigned to you for a group assignment freshman year. Your face was slightly flushed when you kindly uttered "Hey, I know you're a huge athlete or something, so I don't mind carrying the project if you have to focus on sports." In reality, your intentions were selfish, solely concerned about your own grades and how this group project may cause them to fall, but Jungkook still thought it was the cutest thing ever.
He appreciated the consideration, but gently let you know that he was certainly able bodied and willing to complete the assignment. Had you not been so pretty, if the way you pushed your glasses up your face not been so adorable, he would have gladly taken the offer, not being quite privvy to anything academic related.
But you were arguably the cutest girl he's ever seen, so he was willing and eager to put in the effort.
Feelings blossomed, cavernous eyes gazed into each other and Jungkok kissed you for the first time. Seeing that you enthusiastically reciprocrating his energy, Jungkook took it as a sign that he scored the girl of his dreams. Group projects lead to late night calls and incredibly vulnerable talks in his car, then arcade dates to salacious movie nights. He officially asked you to be his girlfriend with a bouquet of the most delicately beautiful roses you've ever seen.
Jungkook thanked God everyday for your naturally compassionate nature, and for when you assuaged all his dreadful anxieties about not be an adequate and involved boyfriend. You understood that the nature of your relationship with him would not always be the most attentive- that he had no choice but to sort of neglect you when he had to travel over state and country borders for the sake of his athletic career.
You understood it and you whole heartedly offered your bona fide support.
You appeared at his games with cute red bows binding the curls in your hair, his oversized red jersey thrown perfectly over your precious abdomen. His perfect cheerleader, his number one motivator- and his teammates certainly appreciated you because he performed better when you were in the stands oggling at him with your starry eyes. He had to play better when his girl was in the crowd.
When you weren't able to be physically present at his games, you sent him the most adorable selfies of you streaming the game on your TV, laptop, or phone, going the extra mile to snag a selfie whilst Jungkook was in the frame of your device.
It really is common knowledge that Jungkook adores his girlfriend. In fact, anybody can tell by looking at the measly three photos on his verified Instagram account (courtesy of the NCAA). There was one photo of Jungkook and his teammates from a few years ago, all men have their hands on their cut and bruise heavy knees. They've got gold medals around their necks, ginger smiles on their faces after winning some summer league tournament.
The second photo was from last year when the men's soccer team at your university won the NCAA Division 1 Men's Soccer tournament, and rather than a photo with his teammates, there is one of him and you. Jungkook who was drenched in sweat from an intense yet rewarding game has his hands wrapped around your waist in the photo, leaning down and pressing a kiss on your cheek whilst you smile gleefully. His gold medal is adorned around your neck, resting on your chest rather than his. The caption reads "scored the winning goal for my number one girl", and the comments are permeated with "awwws" and "how cute!" Of course, you are slightly suspicious of the genuiniety of those comments since most of them are from girls who have a crush on him. How do you know that? You just do, consider it girlfriend intuition.
The most recent photo is simply a gorgeous photo of you at dinner. It was from his point of view- his prettiest view when you were sitting across from him enjoying your steak in a strapless black mini dress. In the photo your french manicured fingers are gripping your wine glass, the stain of your lipstick visible at the edge of the cup. The expanse of your neck is visible, making your aura all the more alluring. Your hair is in a sleek bun with the exception of the face framing pieces that dangle on the sides of your face.
You remember that day, Jungkook looked so dashing in his black button up and slacks, and when he presented you with another bouquet of red roses you melted since they were the same flowers he asked you to be his girlfriend with.
The caption is simply a black heart.
Jungkook shuts his phone off and throws it on his bed, hands rubbing his face as he groans into his palms. After you told him not to speak to you for the rest of the day, he meandered back to your shared apartment, earnestly anticipating your return home. The intoxicating scent of your vanilla body spray fills the room, making him all the more miserable.
He knows that he wasn't giving you the attention necessary in maintaining a healthy relationship, that he wasn't amply putting his share into it, but his mind was so trained on soccer that it hadn't occurred to him to check on up on you. He winces at a certain memory where he was so entranced in practicing penalty kicks that he completely forgot about your date at the pumpkin patch. He went home wondering where you were, and his heart dropped when you marched into the home, slamming the door and refusing to speak to him. After profusely apologizing and making it up to you, you later forgave him and everything returned to its usual nature.
But this time was different, because it is 2AM, and you're still not home, causing Jungkook to fall deeper into his despondency.
He spammed you with so many pleading text messages, his eyes scanning over each and everyone as his thumb scrolls further and further to the history of your shared messages.
[2:52 AM] jungkook: y/n baby im so anxious right now. please let me know where you are. i wont go to bed unless i know that you're safe. you don't need to come home or talk to me, just send me your location so that i know you're okay. im so sorry and i love you so much.
As his thumb scrolls up, his texts from earlier in the night appear.
[11:38 PM] jungkook: baby where are you? im starting to get worried about you. please come home.
[9:12 PM] jungkook: my love, the food is getting cold. if you come home we can still enjoy a meal together.
[8:24 PM] jungkook: baby, i know you're upset at me. please let me make it up to you. i cooked your favorite meal, and we can eat together once you get home. i'm here waiting for you.
A soft exhale leaves his lips, his thumb scrolling all the way back to the same stupid argument that triggered all of this.
y/n ♡: hi baby, im so so sorry. i dont think i can make it to our date tonight. this senior in my class asked me if i wanted to join a study group with him and i want to go so i do good on my final :( sorry baby.
When Jungkook first received the first message, it inevitably upset him. A grimace on his face and the furrow on his eyebrows indicated as much. He missed you so much and was looking forward to seeing you so fucking badly. He longed to feel your body against his, the thought of you keeping him up all of last night. He missed your pretty face, the vanilla scent of your soft hair, and the way you made him feel so complete. So, of course he's upset. The first thing that caught him off guard was that you were cancelling on him after three weeks apart. The second thing that caused a deeper furrow in his brows was irksome personal pronoun: him.
Were you really going to ditch him to hang out with some guy? He was trying to be understanding considering the rigor of the university's computer science program- and wanted you to do everything you could to maintain your perfect grade point average. Nonetheless, he was already pouting at the announcement of your absence.
jungkook: him?? who's this senior?? and are u sure u guys cant reschedule?? miss my girl too much
y/n♡: i miss u too, im so sorry,, it's just that this code is really fucking hard and jaebum offered to help so obvi i accepted lol
Jungkook's concern morphs into unamusement, because he is very familiar with this motherfucker. He sighs deeply, reminiscing when his teammate Hoseok approached him and informed him about a certain Jaebum making inappropriate comments about his girlfriend. Not inappropriate as in sexual, grotesque, or expletive. Had that been the case Jungkook would have beaten the shit out of the guy and risked playing the next season. The type of inappropriate Hoseok intended to express was that Jaebum was going around calling you cute- you, a girl who clearly was not single. Jungkook never explicitly told you about this, not really concerned that it would have a significant impact on your very healthy relationship, but it still displeased him.
He wasn't able to constrain his words, mentioning something when he witnessed Jaebum clearly flirting with you when he picked you up from class.
"Jungkook don't worry," you giggled. "He's just a senior in my class- he's really smart so he was giving me some homework advice."
Jungkook tensed at that. "Alright babe, just be careful."
After that, Jaebum really wasn't ever mentioned or considered. He fully trusted you so Jungkook wasn't worried, until at that very moment.
jungkook: babe
jungkook: i thought we already talked about this
jungkook: that guy literally likes you
y/n♡: ewwww lol dont put that idea in my head😭 gross
jungkook: y/n, im serious
jungkook: he really does, i can tell when someone wants u its my boyfriend intuition
y/n♡: okay baby, and if he does??? u dont trust me??
jungkook: ofc i do, but it makes me uncomfortable to know that he invited you to a “study group” , who knows what he’s planning???
jungkook: who else is gonna be there??
y/n♡: it’s just gonna be us, but i promise u u dont have anything to worry about. uk how this class has been kicking my ass.. and jaebum is the only one with an a
Jungkook uses his pointer finger and thumb to massage his temples. The thought of you and this guy studying together enkindles something vile in his system, but nonetheless he chooses to trust you since he knows how important school is to you. However this irksome feeling bubbles in his chest, and he feels like has just has to do something about it.
The next message he sends is his last attempt to assuage the undeniable burning in his chest.
jungkook: i know, can i at least come with? to make sure he doesnt do anything weird?
y/n♡: i don't think it's a good idea. i dont want things to be uncomfortable
Jungkook scowls at that. Weird? Why would him tagging along be anything of the sort? More importantly, why were you choosing to protect Jaebum’s feelings over his?
jungkook: lmao uncomfortable? are u two planning to fuck on the table or something , why would my presence make things “uncomfortable”?
Jungkook winces when his eyes train on that very ill intended text message. He knows damn well he crossed the line with that one, but your response didn’t indicate that you were upset, probably dismissing it as one of his stupid jokes.
y/n♡: jeon jungkook🙄🙄
y/n♡: i’ll see u tonight at home baby💗💗
Jungkook knows he should have left it at that, but three weeks without having you with him were so excruciating, and he longed for you so so much. He loves being an athlete; he loves playing soccer, but the intense drills and back to back games have been agonizingly tough on his body that all he wanted was to cuddle up against you in your cozy and comfy bed. Maybe have a little movie night and give you a little massage though it was his muscles that were sore and tense. But no, you had to study with some slimy guy. Consider him salty.
When the bus dropped the men’s soccer team off on campus, he bid his farewells to his teammates, and for some strange reason his legs just start walking to the library. Huh, how strange. What an anomaly it was for his feet to randomly move by themselves!
He acts very nonchalant, hands shoved into his sweats whilst he wanders between the dozens of book shelves arrayed in the campus library. Nonetheless, his eyes are rapidly shifting toward every corner in the library, in hopes that he “accidentally” runs into you.
Jackpot.
You and Jaebum are sitting adjacent to each other at an occupied table, both of your eyes trained on your Macbook screen. Jungkook puts a hand on his chin, acutely scrutinizing the situation at hand. The distance of your chairs is quite satisfactory to Jungkook- not too close, but he would appreciate it if you were further away. Jaebum is very clearly giving you a lovestruck gaze, and when he scoots his chair closer to yours Jungkook narrows his eyes.
Jaebum is such a fucking weirdo, his hand creepily advancing towards yours that is resting by the keyboard, and you are so exceedingly focused on your screen that you fail to notice. You randomly remove your hand away from where it rests on the table, and scratch your head with it. Once you turn towards him, his close proximity startles you, and you jerk your chair back in the opposite reaction, the most mortified look on your face.
Jungkook isn’t the best at reading lips, but Jaebum is currently expressing something to you, the most awestruck look on his face and Jungkook scoffs at that, clearly understanding the situation. Without thinking he advances towards you, pulling your chair back with a tight grip whilst he looks daggers into the man. “Can you please stop hitting on my girlfriend?”
Your head whips around at the voice of your boyfriend, but it goes unnoticed by Jungkook whose attention is soley on the man.
Jaebum scoots his chair back a little bit, scratching his head. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was your girlfriend-“
And before Jungkook can interject you speak up. “I’ve told you many times that I have a boyfriend- and quite frankly I’m appalled that you’re trying to make a pass toward me when we agreed that we would be studying,” you say firmly which induces a goofily proud smile to appear on Jungkook’s face.
“I’m sorry Y/N, I-I just really like you and didn’t know how else to talk to you," Jaebum elaborates in attempts to elicit some sort of sympathy from you. His attempt is entirely futile, and you ask him to leave, already vexxed by his inappropriate shot at making a pass at you.
You begrudgingly saunter behind Jungkook, the two of you leaving the library. Jungkook, who is acting under the assumption that you are annoyed by Jaebum, reaches out for your hand, falling into confusion when you rip your hand away from his.
"Babe?-" his eyes round, uneasy at your dissonance.
You exhale deeply, eyes apprehensively glancing around at anybody who may be eavesdropping. "Why the fuck did you follow me?" you whisper shout at him, hands thrown down petulantly.
"I was worried about you," he clarifies, not even bothering to claim that it was a mere coincidence. "And I missed you so much," his tone glosses over softly. He steps forward to embrace you, and the air shifts once you put your hands on his chest and push him away from you.
"Jeon Jungkook, I clearly told you that I would see you at home," you stonely enunciate.
Irritability spreading throughout his system, he scowls. "It was killing me to think about you being alone with this guy when I was missing you so much, and I told you that he liked you but you didn't listen-"
"I admit I was wrong about that, but I am also perfectly capable of handling myself." You hesitate momentarily, gathering the words before spitting them out hastily. "I think you've made it pretty clear that you don't trust me- which is seriously fucked up."
"What's fucked up is that you were hanging out alone with a guy who clearly likes you! You haven't seen your boyfriend in three weeks and chose to spend your time with some guy rather than with me!" Jungkook fires back, attracting some concerned glances from bystanders.
His postulation enrages you. "Need I remind you why I haven't seen you in three weeks?" you sarcastically inquire, eyebrows creasing in awe at the audacity of this man.
"Babe, I have to leave for soccer, you know that, so don't weaponize it against me," he coldly says, and really, all his words do is spread the indignation through your veins like a wildfire.
"I have never weaponized soccer against you, so don't you dare put fucking words in my mouth," you hiss, giving him the dirtiest look he's ever seen from you.
"I have been nothing but supportive of you. Never said shit when you're out there with a bunch of cheerleaders who like you, and with your teammates that fucking cheat on their girlfriends with those cheerleaders! Yet the moment that I prioritize my academic career over you, you pull some weird shit as if you can't trust me!" you finish, your ice colds words leaving Jungkook frozen as a sculpture, as if nitrogen replaced his blood because he realizes you're right. If he ever spend a moment in your shoes, he would lose his goddamn fucking mind because of his naturally possessive and overprotective nature.
"I'm sorry, that's not what I was trying to say," Jungkook clumsily tries to salvage himself. "I appreciate you so much for always being there for me and when I go pro I'll make it up to you. You'll be my soccer wife, and we'll have a mansion with our kids- I'll buy you whatever you want," he conveys, his feeble attempt of sewing together the cuts of the situation.
Instead of a commiserating look, you give him a look that tells him you're even more irritated.
"That's not the point! You don't get that I don't want my identity to be just Jeon Jungkook's soccer wife. I want to be my own person, have my own successful career," you frustratedly communicate. "Why do you think I'm trying so hard in this stupid fucking coding class? Because I didn't want to see you? I always want to see you, but I have to make sacrifices too. The class average is 56 and Jaebum is the only one with an A, but my life isn't as important as yours so you don't want to be sympathetic of my feelings." You finish, cooling off once you've exploded at him.
Jungkook rips away eye contact with you, looking towards another direction, feeling slightly chagrined at your legitimate display of vexation. "I guess your studying didn't seem as important to me at the time," he abashedly murmurs.
“Just because I’m not some big shot D-1 athlete doesn’t mean that my life doesn’t matter," is how you retort, leaving the situation full circle.
Now, it's 3 AM, and you're still not home. Jungkook feels himself falling into a pit of dilapidation and guilt, feeling so remorseful of how shitty he's been. You truly are his super woman, because he's positively sure that he wouldn't be able to handle it if you did what he had to do on a regular basis. He couldn't even handle it when you were studying with another man, let alone travelling and leaving him at home by himself.
The apartment simply feels so empty, and it makes him feel all the more lonely. When he walks into your shared bathroom, his eyes glossing over your cosmetics and skin care products, he becomes absolutely miserable. Debilitatingly picking up your moisturerizer, he squeezes the bottle, product falling falling into his hand. He looks into the mirror and rubs the ointment into his skin, sighing exasperatingly because he wishes you were standing by his side.
The sound of the door suddenly creaks open, and Jungkook rushes into the living room thinking that you may have returned home. His face immediately falls when Jimin marches into his apartment.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook deadpans.
Removing his shoes at the front of the house, Jimin scoffs. "Why'd you leave your door unlocked at 3 AM?"
Jimin plops down at the dining table, picking at the food Jungkook meticulously prepared for you. "This shit is cold as hell," he mumbles before grabbing the plate and shoving it into the microwave. Jungkook doesn't say anything, just grinds his teeth whilst he lays down on the couch.
"Y/N's not home?" Jimin questions with a mouth full of steak.
"No," Jungkook quietly mumbles, dejected and losing hope that you would return home that night.
"I ran into her a few hours ago," Jimin states casually, causing Jungkook to robotically spring up like a zombie and join Jimin at the dining table. "Where?" Jungkook asks like a crazy man, eyes wide, his veins protruding through the whites in his eyes. Jimin gives his friend a distasteful look before protectively covering the food Jungkook made. Jimin analyzes the situation carefully before it dawns on him that you aren't around.
"She's still not home yet?" Jimin asks, concern spreading throughout his face.
"No," Jungkook squeaks out, discouraged by everything before he bangs his head on the dining room table.
"I ran into her at the mall," Jimin says, attempting to provide some comfort to his younger friend. "We looked around a little bit, but I had to go pick my brother up and then I dropped her off at the gym."
Jungkook pauses, owlishly blanking into space whilst he takes a few moments to fully comprehend what just zoomed past his ears. The sleep deprivation and exhaustion is seriously hindering his cognitive function, but he just can't sleep until he knows that you're safe. "Huh?"
Jimin sighs, rolling his eyes before repeating what he just said. He raises his palm to smack the back of Jungkook's neck, which elicits a gruesome glare from the younger one.
"I ran into your girlfriend at the mall. We looked at the dinosaur exhibit. I dropped her off at the gym," Jimin firmly enunciates.
Apparently this computes more briskly than the first time. "The gym?" Jungkook asks, an amusing look of confusion hazed on his face.
"Yes," Jimin replies, frowning at Jungkook's sluggish responses.
"She went by herself?"
"I don't know," Jimin responds, a hinge of more empathy in his voice. "She said something about a personal trainer but I have no clue what she was doing."
An exasperating sigh leaves Jungkook's lips, too much information for his fatigued brain to compute. He didn't even know you had damn personal trainer- you don't even need a fucking personal trainer when your boyfriend is one of quite literally a D-1 athlete. It's not something he wants to even think about, the prospect of him being a shitty boyfriend plaguing his mind even more.
Jimin's eyebrows furrow in concern for his younger friend, and his hand gingerly pats his friend's rock hard back. "Do you want me to stay the night? Or stay at least until she gets back?" he suggests whilst the younger one buries his handsome face into his large palms.
"Please," Jungkook mutters.
Your unexpected entrance proves that Jimin's request was unecessary, because you casually waltz back into the apartment, making Jungkook practically whip his head towards the sound of the opening door.
"Jimin?" you jabber, a little startled at his unanticipated presence.
"Oh hey Y/N!" Jimin greets you more awkwardly than he ever has before, as if he interrupted something though he was there first. "How was the gym?" he releases a sheepish chuckle, and you internally cringe at his overt display of politeness.
"Oh, um. It was good. Are you planning on spending the night?" you ask, slipping your shoes off as you join the two at the dining table.
"Pshhh, no. Absolutely not! I gotta head home.." his eyes erroneously shift all over the room, poorly concealing how clearly he wants to leave. "Right about.." his head whips down at the non existent watch on his wrist. "Now!" He scoots the chair out and -for some reason- he tiptoes out of the house, bidding you and your boyfriend a farewell as he gently closes the comically creaking door.
You look towards your beloved, Jungkook looking dejectedly at his twiddling hands, avoiding eye contact with you. A soft exhale leaves your lips and you plant your palms on the table, getting up before you approach him. Even when he's sitting down at your wooden dining room chairs, he's only a little bit smaller than you- training and the gym have done him well. This profound emotion of tenderness rushes into your heart, and you bend down, placing a tentative and delicate kiss on his fragile cheeks.
"Wanna come with me to the bedroom?" you ask, gentleness lacing your voice at to hopefully assuage the vulnerability of the situation. It is undeniably true that you were upset- even livid at him, but after mulling it over you realized that he is your one and only. If anybody was deserving of your empathy, it was him.
You stride to the bedroom, settling down on the side of your bed with your big hunk of a boyfriend mimicing your actions like a little puppy.
"I made us bracelets," you blurt out hands digging into your pockets, before you pull out two identical bracelets dangling from your fingertips. The bracelets were childlike at best; you used black plastic beads and yarn, the same type of shit toddlers use in pre school when they learn how to do basic things like cut in zig zag lines. The bracelets are mostly made up of black beads, with a pink heart bead in the center of them.
Your fingers wrap around your boyfriend's larger hands, and you gingerly slide his bracelet on his dainty wrists. You suppose you overestimated the circumference of his wrist, because it hangs off his wrist like a necklace.
Jungkook still hasn't said anything, but finally looks up, and your eyes meet his glossy ones.
When you realize that he's crying, you hand cups his cheek, and you use your thumb to wipe the tears that cascade down his handsome face. "No no no," You're panicked at his sullen state. "Don't cry," you express desperately. "Please don't cry, I'm sorry."
Jungkook gazes at you so intimately and intensely, and he feels as if all his resolve breaks now that you are finally in front of him.
"I-I just didn't want to lose you," Anguish laces his voice, and he sounds so desperate that it makes it feel like your heart is being ripped into pieces. "Thought I was gonna lose you," he whispers, and you're compelled to just hug him- so you turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, and his automatically snake around your waist, so naturally- like this action was done so out of muscle memory.
He holds you tightly, like he never wants to let go of you, of this. He holds you like he's found his sweet solace in your embrace. His neck finds comfort in the crook of your neck whilst he pours his emotions out into your honeydew skin.
"I can't believe you still love me."
"I can't believe you made me a fucking bracelet even after everything. You're so sweet, so perfect."
"I don't deserve you- you mean everything to me. I swear I'll make everything up to you, just give me one more chance."
You pull back at his words, a concerned haze painted on your face. You settle on your knees to meet him at equal eye contact. "Did you think I was gonna dump you?"
Jungkook tears away his eyes from yours. "I don't know. I thought you were getting sick of me- I guess," and the
You sigh, shifting your weight backwards so that your ass rests on your heels. You gnaw on your bottom lip, finding the right words to say. "Jungkook," you begin, conjuring the courage to verbalize everything you've been itching to say. "I... I have never loved anybody as much as I love you." You inhale, nostrils flaring slightly before you continue your somewhat clumsy attempt to bandage everything.
You speak very steadily so that he can fully digest what you are about to say. "And I don't love you because you're a soccer player, or because you're verified on Instagram, or because you're ESPN thinks you're going to be super successful. I love you because you're you."
Jungkook's undeniable heartbeat is pounding, so loud that he can hear it in his ears. Love. Your love is interpermeating his being, seizing control of him completely and fully. There are no words that can properly encapsulate how he feels. Just Love. Love times a million. "Y/N-"
"Just shut up and let me talk," you cut him off, preparing once again to regurgitate your feelings.
"I just love you so much, and because I love you, I would never do anything to jeopardize our relationship. You just have to trust me, even if it makes you uncomfortable. I'm an adult- I know what I'm doing."
Jungkook purses his lips perceptively, nodding ever so carefully at your simple yet overflowing explanation.
"It just hurts me that you felt like you couldn't trust me enough to be alone with him. I know I was wrong for not trusting you when you said he liked me, but even if he were to make a move on me, I would never reciprocate or encourage that behavior. I put so much trust in you, and I really want you to work towards putting that same trust in me. And.. I'm sorry for throwing a temper tantrum, I was just embarrassed I guess. "
Jungkook grabs your hand as if the moment is fleeting, his already soft expression softening impossibly more at the sincerity of your words. He holds your hand to his chest, and you can hear the rapid beating of his heart.
"I understand," he automatically expresses, which concerns you because his answer was almost too immediate. You're not sure if he's properly digesting what you are trying to communicate.
"I was just super frustrated- I missed you so much and thinking of you and that guy was killing me. I trust you, but what if he did something to you?" The disclosure of his authentic feelings relieves any doubts you had about the immediacy of his answer.
"Babe, I'm not an idiot," you reply. "I have a taser and it's not like we were in the woods in the middle of the night," you point out which elicits a soft chuckle from Jungkook.
"You're right baby, my girl's a genius," he leans in and presses a familiar and delicate kiss to your bottom lip, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. When he pulls away you're left with a lingering feeling of longing, and he beams at you.
"You just gotta be patient with me, but I swear I'll try to be less," Jungkook takes a moment to find the right word. "Overbearing."
You give Jungkook a pursed smile and nod your head. Before you can respond he presses another delicate kiss to your lips. Though the kiss is fleeting, it's as if your lips mold together perfectly because he knows you and your lips the best. "Thank you for being you," he presses his forehead against your, mumbling against your lips, the utmost sincerity in his voice. "I love you, so so much," he says, hot breath palpable against your lips. "Thank you so much for everything you do. Thank you for understanding, for loving me. You're just- just perfect, perfect for me. Made for me, and I love you so much." His emotions overwhelm him, and his eyes become glossy. "My love for you scares me. The thought of you leaving terrifies me so much, and if you did, I don’t think I would ever recover,” his words are delicate, fragile like he’s a butterfly that could fly away at any moment. It was up to you to keel him grounded.
You close your eyes, savoring the moment of him being so close. " 'm not going anywhere," you hum into his lips, and he sighs blissfully, snuggling more into your protective embrace.
That night, you fall asleep on his chest, his arms instinctively wrapped around you for the entirety of the night.
#jungkook imagines#jungkook angst#jungkook fanfic#jungkook scenarios#bts scenarios#bts fanfic#bts jungkook fanfic#bts jungkook scenarios#soccerplayer!jungkook#jungkook fluff#bts jungkook drabbles#bts imagines#bts jeongguk scenarios#jeongguk fanfic
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$100 billion later, autonomous vehicles are still a car-wreck
Autonomous vehicles were always a shell-game. The last time I wrote about them was a year ago, when Uber declared massive losses. Uber’s profitability story was always, “Sure, we’re losing money now, but once we create self-driving cars, we can fire our drivers and make a bundle.”
https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/30/death-to-all-monopoly/#pogo-stick-problem
But Uber never came close to building an AV. After blowing $2.5b, the company invented a car whose mean-distance-to-fatal-crash was half a mile. Uber had to pay another company — $400 million! — to take the self-driving unit off its hands.
It’s tempting to say that Uber just deluded itself into thinking that AVs were a viable, near-term technology. But $2.5b was a bargain, because it allowed the company’s original investors (notably the Saudi royals) to offload their Uber shares on credulous suckers when the company IPOed.
Likewise Tesla, a company that has promised fully self-driving autonomous vehicles “within two years” for more than a decade. The story that Teslas will someday drive themselves is key to attracting retail investors to the company.
Tesla’s overvaluation isn’t solely a product of the cult of personality around Musk, nor is it just that its investors can’t read a balance-sheet and so miss the fact that the company is reliant upon selling the carbon-credits that allow gas-guzzling SUVs to fill America’s streets.
Key to Tesla’s claims to eventual profitability was that AVs would overcome geometry itself, and end the Red Queen’s Race whereby adding more cars to the road means you need more roads, which means everything gets farther apart, which means you need more cars — lather, rinse, repeat.
Geometry hates cars, but Elon Musk hates public transit (he says you might end up seated next to “a serial killer”). So Musk spun this story where tightly orchestrated AVs would best geometry and create big cities served speedy, individualized private vehicles. You could even make passive income from your Tesla, turning it over to drive strangers (including, presumably, serial killers?) around as a taxicab.
But Teslas are no closer to full self-driving than Ubers. In fact, no one has come close to making an AV. In a characteristically brilliant and scorching article for Bloomberg, Max Chafkin takes stock of the failed AV project:
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/features/2022-10-06/even-after-100-billion-self-driving-cars-are-going-nowhere
Chafkin calculates that the global R&D budget for AVs has now exceeded $100 billion, and demonstrates that we have next to nothing to show for it, and that whatever you think you know about AV success is just spin, hype and bullshit.
Take the much-vaunted terribleness of human drivers, which the AV industry likes to tout. It’s true that the other dumdums on the road cutting you off and changing lanes without their turn-signals are pretty bad drivers, but actual, professional drivers are amazing. The average school-bus driver clocks up 500 million miles without a fatal crash (but of course, bus drivers are part of the public transit system).
Even dopes like you and me are better than you may think — while cars do kill the shit out of Americans, it’s because Americans drive so goddamned much. US traffic deaths are a mere one per 100 million miles driven, and most of those deaths are due to recklessness, not inability. Drunks, speeders, texters and sleepy drivers cause traffic fatalities — they may be skilled drivers, but they are also reckless.
But even the most reckless driver is safer than a driverless car, which “lasts a few seconds before crapping out.” The best robot drivers are Waymos, which mostly operate in the sunbelt, “because they still can’t handle weather patterns trickier than Partly Cloudy.”
Waymo claims to have driven 20m miles — that is, 4% of the distance we’d expect a human school-bus driver to go before having a fatal wreck. Tesla, meanwhile, has stopped even reporting how many miles its autopilot has mananged on public roads. The last time it disclosed, in 2019, the total was zero.
Using “deep learning” to solve the problems of self-driving cars is a dead-end. As NYU psych prof Gary Marcus told Chafkin, “deep learning is something similar to memorization…It only works if the situations are sufficiently akin.”
Which is why self-driving cars are so useless when they come up against something unexpected — human drivers weaving through traffic, cyclists, an eagle, a drone, a low-flying plane, a deer, even some pigeons on the road.
Self-driving car huxters call this “the pogo-stick problem” — as in “you never can tell when someone will try to cross the road on a pogo-stick.” They propose coming up with strict rules for humans to make life easier for robots.
https://www.theverge.com/2018/7/3/17530232/self-driving-ai-winter-full-autonomy-waymo-tesla-uber
But as stupid as this is, it’s even stupider than it appears at first blush. It’s not that AVs are confused by pogo sticks — they’re confused by shadowsand clouds and squirrels. They’re confused by left turns that are a little different than the last left turn they tried.
If you’ve been thinking that AVs were right around the corner, don’t feel too foolish. The AV companies have certainly acted like they believed their own bullshit. Chafkin reminds us of the high-stakes litigation when AV engineer Anthony Levandowski left Google for Uber and was sued for stealing trade secrets.
The result was millions in fines (Levandowski declared bankruptcy) and even a prison sentence for Levandowski (Trump pardoned him, seemingly at the behest of Peter Thiel and other Trumpist tech cronies). Why would companies go to all that trouble if they weren’t serious about their own claims?
It’s possible that they are, but that doesn’t mean we have to take those claims at face-value ourselves. Companies often get high on their own supplies. The litigation over Levandowski can be thought of as a species of criti-hype, Lee Vinsel’s extraordinarily useful term for criticism that serves to bolster the claims of its target:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/02/euthanize-rentiers/#dont-believe-the-hype
Another example of criti-hype: the claims about the risks of ubiquitous drone delivery — which, like AVs, is half-bullshit, half self-delusion:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#droned
Today, Levandowski has scaled back his plans to build autonomous vehicles. Instead, he’s built autonomous dump-trucks that never leave a literal sandbox, and trundle back and forth on the same road all day, moving rocks from a pit to a crusher.
$100 billion later, that’s what the AV market has produced.
Image:
Cryteria (modified)
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0:
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
Gartner (modified):
https://www.gartner.com/en/research/methodologies/gartner-hype-cycle
[Image ID: A chart illustrating the Gartner hype-cycle; racing down the slope from the 'peak of inflated expectations' to the 'trough of disillusionment' is the staring eye of HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey, chased by speed-lines.]
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Okay I’ve snapped.
If you say Percy Jackson is stupid I will find you and make sure you regret it.
I have inattentive type ADHD. I was diagnosed in 4th grade and got put on medication. I did not think there was a difference but I got an award from the school for how much I improved. They didn’t know it was because of meds.
Before I was diagnosed I remember being on the verge of tears often at school because I got so frustrated that I couldn’t do work. I sat at my desk with the pencil in my hand staring at a worksheet physically unable to write the awnser I knew. I would stare at the question and like an optical illusion the rest of the page blurs together and I can’t even make out word anymore.
I thought I was dyslexic for the longest time because some fonts are so difficult for me to read. I could look at a recit, know it says lettuce, and it will not process in my brain. Unless I am a few hours away from a deadline it is nearly impossible to start assignments. Essays are hell.
You know those songs that have an American accent but are completely nonsense? That’s what it sounds like a lot when I listen to people talk. Usally I can grasp the general meaning but I can not tell you what word you just said.
Time is not real. I sit down, scroll through tumblr for maybe 15 minutes and my roommate asks why I’m sitting doing nothing for 4 hours straight. Full days disappear and I can’t remember anything that happened. I have no idea how long it takes me to do something I do almost every day.
I went two weeks at the beginning of the semester with meds that where 10 milligrams lower than my usual dosage. My grades still haven’t recovered.
THAT SAID. In cannon, Percy Jackson passed 13 years of school with high enough grades to be accepted to a university. Not medicated. Without accommodations.
So either the education system in New York is taylored specifically for people with ADHD, or Percy Jackson is a fucking geinios. I can’t spell.
So ignoring the fact that nearly every fight he won by outsmarting his opponent, let me tell you why.
In the books, he’s an introvert, sits in the back, tries to keep his head down but usually fails, gets detention often, and has been expelled multiple times. That’s not the kind of kid teachers go out of their way to help. He’s also unlikely to ask for help. So, despite his struggles in the classroom, he has never been held back or had to redo a grade as far as we know. And it’s pretty likely considering his age.
Add in the fact that he would be constantly sleep deprived from staying up very late (like from 10-3, based off my experience) and his dyslexia, Percy would need to be really good at retaining information after hearing or seeing it only once. That’s actually supported by his ability to memorize prophecies word for word after only hearing them once. We know Percy is bad at taking tests, so he would have to be really good at recalling information.
He also did it all unmedicated. I want to cry just thinking about it.
tldr, the fact that Percy’s grades where high enough to get into college means hes fucking brilliant
#percyjackson#percy jackson#pjo#adhd#living with adhd#Percy Jackson adhd#adhd brain#school is hard#especially in an environment built to torture you#adhd problems#adhd post#adhd Percy Jackson
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This is for all the younger gen Z women, particularly those of you within the ages of 17 to roughly 23. This is written from an American perspective, things might be a little different depending on where you're from.
I graduated high school with the unconscious assumption that certain systems will take care of me. The medical system would educate me on proper nutrition and health issues was probably my largest underlying assumption, but really I just had trust in institutions generally.
This isn't true. You are responsible for learning. As an example, I have been vegetarian since age 14. Nobody talked to me about proper nutrition, they just told me I needed to eat more protein.
I lived a decade of my life having shortness of breath, sleeping issues, clumsiness, cold hands and feet, having brain fog, extreme fatigue, heightened anxiety, etc. My period was extremely light and brown, it'd last for about 2 or so days. I'd go and talk about these problems, and telling doctors that I was vegetarian was one of the first things that came out of my mouth just with any visit because I knew at least that piece was important to communicate.
There was really no action taken over the span of about 10 years. I was told the period thing was normal, that changes for women. A sleep specialist let me know that feeling exhausted was also normal. The brain fog was probably due to anxiety. Here, try allergy medication (tbh that did help for other reasons). Then one day I just asked them to check my vitamin and mineral levels. Prior to this I didn't think you can make requests to doctors, I thought you showed up and they performed tests on what they recommended. With some reluctance from my primary care physician and some compromise because she said my insurance wouldn't cover testing things like B12 levels (I later found out from a nurse that, they would, she would have just needed to fill out extra paperwork), she did some tests.
I found out both my iron and D3 levels were low. What else could be?
I later learned pretty much all the vitamins common to be low for vegetarians were low. D3, magnesium, vitamin Bs, iron, and healthy fats. Bought some liquid vitamins (because the body only absorbs 10% of the pill supplements), began eating an avocado a day, my period became normal for the first time in nine years, and I am able to function.
Another example of how human systems won't educate you: I don't have feeling in some of my toes due to wearing incorrect sized footwear for years resulting in permanent nerve damage. I'm size 11.5 in women's, and I was relying on someone to tell me how proper footwear worked, because surely the guy in the minimum wage position working the footwear section would know.
Don't trust human systems to guide you through how certain things work. Seek specific specialists and experts when you can, and inform yourself on your own. Don't blindly trust search engines like Google, it's not like how it used to be when I was growing up and many millennial adults will tell you to "just google things" because we're used to finding actual substantive answers when we do. However, now, usually whoever pays is who makes the first page or two of search engines, it has nothing to do with what information is "most correct". Don't be afraid to request certain tests be done by doctors or certain referrals made to different specialists.
Edit: And also, I've found general practitioners are terrible when you walk in and tell them about several different symptoms at one time. They're more used to treating one symptom at a time, and they treat the symptom not the root cause. If you go in with a runny nose, general practitioners are going to throw medications at you to try and treat the runny nose, not look deeper into what's causing the runny nose. It's equivalent to if you're in a boat and it's sinking, they're bailing out water without actually fixing the hole or trying to figure out where it is, with the exception of emergency situations and even then it depends.
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Dream Come True - Part 2
Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.
A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.
Warnings: Shooting mentioned, not written. American healthcare system. Insecure reader. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!
Part 1 -- Part 3
Series Masterlist
It's only been a few days but you find yourself unable to follow the advice of the medical staff and get some rest. Your brain won't let you. You've got budgets to consider, a resume to update, and follow up appointments to schedule. Thankfully when Jake and Jefferson had brought the girls for a visit they made sure to bring your laptop.
Because you hated not knowing, you opted to spend your time researching to see about how much you might be getting from that back-pay promised by Curtis. Jefferson had assured you that Curtis did, in fact, have that kind of pull but "please don't dig too much into it." You got the impression not everything was on the up-and-up but you have bills to pay so you agreed.
On day four you got a notice of deposit from your bank. You took a look and your jaw dropped. That couldn't be right! You'd done the research. There's no way even an experienced, highly qualified tutor would ever be earning that much! There must've been a mistake! You immediately make a note to tell someone who knows Curtis.
Curtis and Mace were going through their weekly itineraries. Between the two of them nothing got lost. Mace would, occasionally, grumble about needing a vacation but the two of them were the only people who keep all the moving pieces in mind.
"At least we can check a few things off the list this week," Curtis grunted. "Hal's got the bugs planted in the Smith law building. Jake's confirmed they're working."
"Fowler confirmed McMann won't be a problem," Mace reported. "Apparently the guy's busy trying to hunt down the guy that ran away with his wife."
Curtis chuckled at that. "That was Nat, right?"
Mace smiled, "yeah. Nat called "dibs" and we didn't have a counterargument."
"McMann's gonna spend a long time searching," Curtis shakes his head. "Nat's the best at not being found when she doesn't want to be."
"And the Missus is definitely better off," Mace agreed. "Nat's setting her up for life."
"That reminds me," Curtis interjected. "How's the back-pay for Hero doing?"
Mace double checked a few things on his phone before replying, "it's been deposited into her account."
"Good. One more thing we can cross off the list."
"Not yet, actually," Mace hesitated. Curtis gave him a curious look. "Turns out, she's trying to get ahold of you to talk about the amount. Beck says she's adamant that it's too much."
"Huh," Curtis's eyebrows raised. "There's something you don't hear every day. I'll talk to Barber and got some legal-ese that'll explain without explaining."
Mace nods and the two continue their meeting, switching to ongoing tasks.
"Excuse me?" It's been a few days since the money hit your account and you've finally gotten a visit from Curtis.
They kept you at the hospital longer because your stress levels made it "irresponsible" for Dr. Beck to discharge you, lest you have a heart attack as soon as you get outside. At this point you're certain Dr. Beck wants to get as much money from your stay as he can. Everyone who visits, however, says otherwise.
"Hazard pay," Curtis patiently repeated. "That's why there's so much more money than you expected."
"You can't expect me to believe that!" You are indignant. "That's not how hazard pay works. I've done my research Mr. um, Mr." you pause because you realize you don't know his last name. You feel the pang of embarrassment because you've been saying you've done your research but you don't know something as simple as a last name! You push past it and continue, "I've done my research, sir!"
You open up your laptop and bring up all of your documents of notes, focusing in on the bibliography. "I've got data from reputed tutoring websites, the Department of Labor, Glassdoor, even the Bureau of Labor Statistics, and none of them support the amount I was given."
Curtis finds himself smiling. He's been talked back to plenty of times, but never like this. "You're cute," he blurts out.
Thinking he's making fun of you, you look away from him and try not to show too much hurt. Curtis assures, "I'm not saying that to belittle you. You really have put a lot of work into this."
You shake your head, "it's besides the point, sir. You've grossly overpaid me. I know you've overpaid me. Yet you are refusing to acknowledge this."
"That's partly because I'm not sure why it's such a big deal to you," he calmly states.
"Because I don't want to cheat you!"
"Are you saying there's a price limit for saving my nieces?"
"I mean, technically there is. Could probably use some actuarial tables used in life insurance policies to find it out." Curtis gives you a hard glare but you persist, "I'm not saying that your nieces aren't priceless. I'm saying that I don't want to take what isn't mine. This is a lot of money and I don't want you going hungry or something because you feel you owe me when you don't. I only did what any decent person would do!"
"It's been my experience that decent people are rarities," Curtis stated. "As such they, and by extension you, should be treated well and given plenty."
"That's another part of the problem," you sighed. "I have not been told anything specific but I've seen and heard enough to suspect that this money might not be... legitimate."
Curtis's jaw tensed up. He'd have to have a word with the J's about being more careful. "I assure you," he nearly growled, "that the money you received was honestly earned by us and then you. All tax forms have been taken care of. All employment paperwork is settled."
You meet his gaze, undeterred by the intensity in his eyes. You see no signs of trickery. Nothing in those icy blue eyes indicating he was hiding the truth from you. You nod your acceptance and he relaxes a bit.
"Now," he says in a much lighter tone, "was there anything else?"
"Um, just one," you replied. "You said that I'm officially employed? That you might have more work for me? Who am I employed by and what other work should I be ready for?"
"The official name of my company is Everett Enterprises," he explained. "That's the company title on your W-2. As for the "other work" that was implied, it's simply a notice that I may have other employees in need of a tutor. I know Hal has been looking at getting his GED."
"So all you would need from me is more tutoring?"
Curtis can hear the tremor in your voice. You're a good person who doesn't want to get mixed up in anything illegal and he's happy to accommodate that. "Yes," he asserts. "Though that may involve helping some of my people learn how to cite their sources like you did."
That gets a half smile from you and Curtis considers the conversation done. "Now please follow the doctor's orders and rest up," he pleads. As he turns to leave he says, "make sure to get your beauty sleep."
Because he's facing away he doesn't see your face fall at the comment.
Part 1 -- Part 3
Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.
@dontbescaredtosingalong
@icefrozendeadlyqueen
@texmexdarling
@veltana
@winter-soldier-101
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.
#curtis everett x reader#curtis everett x plus size!reader#plus size!reader#mob!curtis everett#mafia!curtis everett#dream come true
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What the Hell Are Fancams?
Pairing: Teacher Ben (SNL) x f!reader
Word Count: 2500+
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes: Absolutely felt called out during the SNL sketch with Teacher Ben but I knew I had to write a little something for him. I'm pulling from my own experience as an ASL interpreter in the school system (glad I finally can incorporate it!). Thanks to @vanemando15 for her help in this and for being a beta!
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Main Masterlist
Teacher Ben Masterlist
What the Hell Are Fancams? PART 2
New year, new school, new student. Such is the life of an American Sign Language interpreter when you work in schools.
My last student moved out of the district so I was assigned a different one. This student's interpreter wanted to go back to work with the little ones and while I loved my time with them, it was time to swap grades.
My student is amazing and comes from a rare family, in that she is the only member that is Deaf but everyone in her life learned ASL from the moment she failed her hearing test. In most families it's the complete opposite, causing significant language delays and isolation. It never fails to blow my mind how many people won't learn a language for their child, especially when they'd both be starting from the beginning.
This student, Chelsea, I had worked with from her time in pre-k to 5th grade. It was great already having an established repertoire with a student and we easily fell back into our normal chatter, her filling me in on anything I missed for the few years I was back in Pre-K.
So how's this school? I ask, as she's been here 2 years already.
Not bad. Teachers are mostly ok. Too much homework though.
That's usually the case with high school. Any favorite classes?
I like acting class, but my favorite teacher is Mr. Ben. He teaches marine biology. She gives me a look I can't discern at this.
Oh?
Yeah you know, like about the whales you like and other ocean stuff.
You're in marine bio 2 and you're calling it ocean stuff? Sounds like a great ocean stuff teacher.
She rolls her eyes at me. You know what I mean. Plus he's…
He's..what?
She smirks her mischievous smile that I know can only mean trouble. Nothing. Don't worry about it.
Chelsea-
Oh look we're at math class.
Saved by the bell, indeed.
After math was lunch, followed by marine biology. Since it was the first day, I decided to eat quickly and get to the next class a little early so I can start on my "who I am and where I and my student need to be placed" speel. Although he may not need it since Chelsea was in his class before. Still, you never know what a previous interpreter did.
I knock softly on the door and male voice tells me to come in. I push the door open and see that the teacher has his back to me, bent over his desk grabbing something. His very broad back.
"Uh hi. I'm the interpreter for your Deaf student for next period and I'm here to answer any questions-"
He turns around and I forget what I'm saying. Bright, brown eyes focus on mine, brown hair that looks so soft with greys starting to creep in, matching the patchy facial hair he has. His nose? Don't get me started on the thoughts I'm having about that nose. He's wearing a blue plaid shirt tucked into black pants, and a tie with tropical fish on it.
A faint pink dusts his cheeks when he looks at me. "H-hi. I'm Ben Morales. The kids call me Mr. Ben."
He holds out his hand and I shake it, willing my nerves to not come through it. God he's hot. I wonder if this is what Chelsea was talking about. In fact, I'm sure it is.
I launch into my speel, albeit a little faster than I normally would, but Ben just nods along and does whatever I ask of him.
"Do you have any questions?" I ask.
"Um… not right now. You're a little different than the last interpreter." He coughs and takes a sip from his water bottle.
"Ah yeah we all do things a little different. Is there anything that worked well for the student and you that I can accommodate?"
He chokes on his water, coughing violently. I move quickly, thumping him on the back but his face keeps getting redder.
"You-" He coughs "-want to go on-" He coughs more "- a date?"
It's my turn to have my cheeks heat up. "I- what? No I said accommodate… are you ok?"
He nods, muttering something like "Oh shit" under his breath as he turns away from me, his coughs dying down. But before we can talk more, the bell rings and students start moving about the halls.
"Well let me know if there's anything I can do to date you, Mr. Ben. ACCOMMODATE! Accommodate you!"
Fuck. Me.
A tap on my shoulder and I turn to see Chelsea, lips upturned in that mischievous smirk.
I see you've met Mr. Ben.
I have. He's…nice.
Yeah, nice. Is that why your face is all sweaty and warm?
What?
She laughs and takes her seat, eyes flicking between me and Mr. Ben as the bell rings and he starts his lecture.
—----
I find myself making it to that class a few minutes before the bell rings just to have a moment to talk to him. When I can talk, that is. I've never met someone who makes me trip over my words as much as he does. But soon, we settle into a routine, after bonding over our mutual love of orca whales. A couple weeks in, I bought him a brightly colored tie with orcas swimming on it. The smile he had could be seen from space.
Chelsea can't seem to wipe the smirk from her face whenever she sees us talking.
He likes you. Chelsea signs, giving me a wink.
Focus on your test, Chelsea.
It's hard to when you guys are up there yelling your love for each other. You should ask him out.
This has nothing to do with your classwork. And this is highly inappropriate.
She scoffs. You've known me forever.
Yes but you're not an adult.
I'll be 16 soon. And I'm not an idiot. Everyone knows you guys like each other.
What do you mean "everyone"?
She gestures around the room. Everyone. It's in the fancams too.
The..what?
F-A-N-C-A-M-S. She repeats the sign.
Thanks but I have no clue what that is.
She laughs and Mr. Ben walks over.
"Everything ok? Any questions?" He's talking directly to Chelsea and not addressing me, which is exactly what I told him to do on day one.
"No, I'm good Mr. Ben. I was just telling my interpreter about fancams." I voice for her, trying to keep my cool.
His face goes blank. "The what?"
She laughs. "You don't know?"
Before he can answer the bell rings and we head off to next period.
At the end of the day, Chelsea takes my phone and pulls up one of these fancams and wow. It's basically a Mashup of hidden video and photos taken of Mr. Ben that have been heavily edited and music added, making him look hot. How is this appro-
Oh shit I'm in this one. Apparently Chelsea is not the only one to try and push us together.
Shit.
The next day, I make it to his class early as usual. He walks from around his desk to lean sit in front of it.
"Hey Mr. Ben."
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Ben?"
I smile. "Sorry. Habit."
"Hey…so what was that fancam business from yesterday?"
Oh.
"I uh.."
"Please tell me. These kids all talk about them and I have no clue what they are."
"I don't-"
"Please?"
Oh God his eyes are all big and brown and just like a damn puppy.
I sigh, shaking my head when I realize that was audible and I'm staring too long into his eyes. I could get lost in those eyes.
I pull my phone out and walk over to him, leaning my butt against the desk next to him.
"Ok, so please remember that I was shown these and am in no way affiliated with the creation of the fancams."
He chuckles, leaning in closer to me. He smells good, like fresh parchment and aftershave.
"Are you ok?" He asks me.
"What? Oh yeah. Uh the fan cams."
I scroll through and pull one up, handing him my phone as it plays. His face becomes redder as it plays on.
"I uh..who…who made these?"
"I'm not sure. Chelsea said a bunch of the students did-"
"There's more than one??"
"Y-yeah. Look." I swipe through a few more until it settles on the one that puts us together. I try to swipe past it but he catches sight of it before I can.
"What was that one?"
"Oh nothing. It's nothing."
"But it had my face-"
"Just another fancam."
"And yours."
"Kids these days. They will make any-anything."
"I can't see it?"
"Uh nah you don't want to-"
"Oh I think I need to see it."
He's not pressuring me at all, more like flirting, but…that's not possible. There's no way he holds the same crush for me as I do for him, right?
My boldness coming from some tucked away insanity, I reach over and swipe the video back up, letting him watch it in its entirety.
"The kids…want us to go on a date?"
"Apparently so. C-crazy, right?" I swallow hard, hoping he can't hear the way my heart is pounding though my chest, his scent filling my head and making it very hard to focus.
"I don't think it's crazy."
RIIIIING!
That fucking bell ruins everything.
At the staff meeting the next morning, they ask for chaperones to the homecoming dance. Teachers groan but a few hands automatically go up, volunteering their evening. I raise mine too, Chelsea already telling me she had been asked to go by the person she'd been crushing on since last school year. They had spent the entire summer learning as much ASL as they could in order to talk to her, which was too touching for words and I know it meant the world to Chelsea. I won't have to follow her around but I'll be there in case of emergencies.
To my surprise, Ben raises his hand shortly after watching me raise mine. The admin takes down names and the meeting concludes, Ben catching up with me as I start to head out to homeroom.
"You're volunteering too?" He asks.
"Yeah. Chelsea is already going and while she doesn't necessarily need me, she asked me to come in case she does. I think she's nervous."
"That kid learned asl for her, right?"
I nod. "Yeah. She's super excited although she'll deny it."
"Sounds like her."
"Mmmhmm."
We walk together for a hall or two.
"I gotta go this way to homeroom."
"Oh. Right. Um, see you soon?"
"Yup. See you!"
—----
When I make it to his class at my usual time, I can see he's nervous about something, his eyes extra wide and small beads of sweat accumulating at his hairline.
"HI, Ben."
"H-hi."
Silence as I unpack, but then he's standing near me and all I smell is him.
"Can I ask you something?" He asks.
"Yeah of course."
"I…uh did.. um… would you-"
A student pops their head in, asking for clarification on the homework and he shakes his head, turning to help them.
—----
Homecoming arrives and I pick out a simple dress to wear. Not quite prom dress but definitely nicer than school attire. I head into the dance and get my assigned area and head there, milling about as people and students start to file in. Music blares as the dance starts andI feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning, Ben is standing there, a navy built suit, dark button up shirt and - the whale tie I had given him shortly after we met. His mouth is agape as he takes me in.
"You…you look…"
"Is that the tie I got you?
He picks up the end and looks at it. "Yeah. I thought it would go good with my outfit."
"Brings out your eyes."
"What?'
"What?"
Just then the music stops and switches to a slow dance, the DJ insisting that teachers should join in on this flashback. "True" by Spandau Ballet starts to play and a few staff members laugh and pull each other to the dance floor.
"D-doyouwanttodance?" Ben speaks so quickly that I can't understand him.
"What?"
He sighs, gathering up…courage?
"Do you want to dance?"
Oh.
"With…you?"
"Yes. But you don't have to if you don't want to-"
"No! I want to!" Shit, was that too enthusiastic?
He smiles, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants before offering me his hand. I take it, the warmth from his hand spreading into mine. He guides me to the dance floor and spins me to him, his hand hesitating over my hip. Gently, I place my hand over his and guide it to my hip, encouraging him to grip me with his fingers.
His eyes find mine as he leads, neither of us saying anything, just staring into each other's eyes. My stomach is in my chest and I swear he can feel my heart pumping out of my chest. He's wearing cologne tonight, but underneath it I can smell that familiar smell of him that makes me forget words. A minute passes before he leans in and speaks in my ear.
"You know we're going to be in another fancam because of this, right?"
I laugh. "You're probably right. But it's worth it."
He pulls back and looks at me again, his brown eyes sparkling as he stares deep into my eyes. The song ends but Ben doesn't drop my hand or my hip.
"Will you come with me for a second?" He asks.
"Of course."
Removing his hand from my hip, he winds his fingers through mine and pulls me through the crowd of students and out of the side door, turning down the hallway and moving away from the cafeteria doors.
"Ben, what-"
He spins me around and pulls me tight to his body. His eyes flicker between mine and I can feel the nervous tension bubble between us threatening to pop.
And then it does.
His hands come up and cup my face, bringing his lips to mine as he places the softest kiss to my lips. He pulls back and I follow him, unwilling to let him go.
"Was that ok? I should have asked before-"
I grip the tie around his neck and pull him to me, deepening the kiss. His lips are warm and inviting, better than anything I could imagine. His hands are gentle, one sliding around to the back of my head and the other settling on my hip, pulling me in closer. A slight moan from him goes straight through me and I can feel myself getting warm.
The doors bang open and we fly apart, laughing nervously when the students that had come through the doors disappear down the hall to the bathroom without even spotting us.
"Dinner?"
"Are you asking me on a date, Ben?"
He pushes his body back against mine, having felt my tug on his belt.
"I am." His voice is somehow deeper and it goes straight between my thighs.
"I'd love to."
He kisses me again and starts to put away, but I grip his tie tighter and pull him back down. His eyebrows scrunch together in a question.
"Let's go check if your classroom is empty."
The question drops, lips hitching up in a knowing smile as he slides his fingers between mine, pulling me down the hall to his room.
—----
What the Hell Are Fancams? Part 2>>
General Taglist:
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#teacher ben#mr ben#snl#saturday night live#pedro pascal snl#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal character ff#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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Tony Takes Care Of Sick Peter Masterlist
Am I A Dying Man? (ao3) - Odd_I
G, 5k
Summary: Peter Parker didn’t get sick, not any more. He hadn’t been really sick since before the bite, and that was what? Three years ago?
He was pretty sure it had something to do with his super healing, but he wasn’t completely sure. They never really had to test it out, after all. But he healed fast, so it generally made sense that his weird radioactive spider system also fought off any infections and illnesses.
— OR —
Peter gets sick, is a dramatic little shit, and Tony is just done with everything.
Appendicitis (ao3) - tommyparkerr
T, 15k
Summary: In which Peter doesn't realize until too late that the flu shouldn't be this painful, and Tony Stark is right there to both lecture and comfort him (and accidentally call him his kid in the process).
Blankets (ao3) - kiwifeather
G, 1k
Summary: Tony cares for an under-the-weather Peter the best way he knows how (which is pretty good, because he's a Dad™ now).
et tu, brute? (ao3) - turtle_bean
G, 3k
Summary: Peter rounds the corner and gives a half-hearted hop. “All ready for the mission, Mr. Stark!”
Yeah, no.
“FRI, give me a read.”
“What -”
“101.7 degrees Fahrenheit, Mr. Stark,” Karen announces from Peter’s suit.
--
or, peter is sick, ned’s worried, and tony is... well, tony.
Extra Noodles (ao3) - duskblue
G, 4k
Summary: Peter is staying with Tony while May is out of town. Unfortunately, Peter doesn't feel the best, so Tony is on a mission to figure out what's wrong so he can take the best possible care of him. He enlists his good friend, Bruce Banner in this task.
flushed away (ao3) - underpassgraffiti
G, 2k
Summary: "I'm dying," he decides, flushing the toilet and resting his forehead against the rim. He feels disgusting. "I'm dying, I'm gonna die. Spider-Man dies to ravioli."
"Should I alert Boss?" Friday chirps, and Peter groans, waving a hand uselessly.
"No, m'fine," he grumbles. "WebMD will save me."
or: peter gets food poisoning & tony takes care of him.
Into the West (ao3) - ChocolateAndRedbull
G, 1k
Summary: When a feverish Peter lets himself dwell on the past, Tony makes sure that he’s there to talk him through it
it's in the job description (ao3) - iron_spider_suit
G, 8k
Summary: Peter gets sick just in time for movie night with the team. Tony does his best.
lessons in the metric system (ao3) - akapeterman
G, 2k
Summary: “Pete,” Tony said slowly, “You’re sick.”
“No!” Peter said more urgently. “I’m hyp’thermic.”
“Trust me, you are the opposite of hypothermic right now, kiddo.”
or;
Peter and Tony decide to road trip to Canada. Unfortunately, a peppermint air freshener happens to be Spider-Man's kryptonite. Confusion ensues. And honestly, Peter blames the American school system. They really should be more clear about the difference between Celsius and Farenheight.
Of Chicken Soup and Brooklyn-99 (ao3) - AnnabelleBlack20
G, 2k
Summary: Peter hadn’t gotten sick since the spider bite. But then again, his rotten Parker luck had a mind of its own. Lucky for him, he’s got a superhero in his corner. Nothing but pure fluff between IRONDAD and his SPIDERSON!
shaken up realities (shaking up reality) (ao3) - lemonlillybee
M, 5k
Summary: This takes place after Endgame, and it’s a bit angsty, but everyone lives!
Written for the following Sicktember 2022 prompt: Cold Sweat
Sick Puppies (ao3) - OllieCollie
G, 7k
Summary: Tony has been through a lot in his lifetime—from being kidnapped by terrorists to saving the world multiple times and just about everything in between—but he may be facing his toughest challenge yet: taking care of two kids with the flu.
Since I Have You (ao3) - lunasquared
G, 2k
Summary: He didn’t register the fact that he started falling until he was caught by a pair of arms right before he hit the floor.
“Whoa there kiddo,” Tony said, helping Peter over to the couch. “What’s going on?”
“‘s hot.” Peter mumbled as he laid down on the couch thankful to finally be off his feet.
OR
Peter gets sick and Tony helps take care of him.
we all have a hunger (ao3) - MotherKarizma
G, 6k
Summary: “Morgan,” he croaked, throat afire, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey – hey, it’s okay, I’m just…”
“You’re sick.” She mustered up something like bravery, using it to straighten her back and plaster a very grown-up look on her face. “I’ll get Daddy!”
“No!” Morgan jumped, eyes wide. Peter fought to calm his voice. He offered her a smile that couldn’t have been convincing, not even to a five year old. “No, you don’t have to. I feel better now. You don’t have to tell him.”
Morgan’s lips wobbled. Peter knew what her fake pout looked like well enough to know this wasn’t it. “Petey…”
Peter had a lot of reasons to feel guilty. He felt guilty for scaring her. He felt guilty for forgetting to lock his bedroom door, for making scaring her a possibility. He kind of, in a way, felt guilty for doing it in the first place, though not nearly enough to stop.
But more than anything, he felt guilty for this: “Morgan, promise me you won’t tell him. He…he won’t let us swim anymore if you do. And I’m not sick, my tummy just hurt a little bit, but I’m all better now. Promise me you won’t tell him, okay?”
“But…”
“Morgan. Promise.”
When I'm Sick Or Suffering (I'll Still Call You) (ao3) - l_u_c_k_y_c_l_o_v_e_r
G, 2k
Summary: Peter comes down with the flu, but a certain superhero makes sure he doesn't have to deal with it on his own.
Wingman (ao3) - Sahiya
G, 4k
Summary: Holy shit, Rhodey thought. Tony’s a dad.
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guardian angel
Pairing: Seonghwa x female! reader
Genre: romance, angst, fluff, slight crack, highschool! au, bad boy! au, happy ending
Word count: 3.8k
Requested?: yes
Warnings: cursing, a lot of cliche themes, mentions of smoking and drinking, elements of crack, potential sexual assault (doesn't actually happen), suggestive, wooyoung being his awesome self
Summary: Seonghwa is known for being a delinquent. Nothing phases, and no one messes with him. But there is someone who he is drawn to. Someone he can't quite keep off his mind.
Author's Notes: I had so much fun writing this you have no idea. It took way longer to write than I wanted but I need it to be perfect. This fic does have some mature theme so do be warned! Thank you so much anon for requesting this. I really hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think!! <3
The whole concept of having a guardian angel was comforting. intriguing, almost. Having someone watching over, protecting you, perhaps without you even knowing. That was a comforting thought.
Or at least for you it was. But in this compulsory religious studies class, most kids were seconds away from falling asleep. The teacher droned on with her monotone voice, flicking through the PowerPoint presentation, which looked like a half-hearted effort, put together last night.
Not that it mattered. No one was paying attention anyway, all except the handful of teens who wanted to get the best out of their mediocre education system.
"Silence please" the teacher mumbled weakly at the class. Poor Miss had no presence, no impact. The hard-working students, such as yourself, usually sitting in the front row, could usually hear her feeble voice. But they weren't the ones who needed to hear it.
"She said shut up!"
A voice with authority. Everyone collectively gasped, quick to close their lips now as they turned to face the principal, who walked in not moments ago. She was the one to be feared.
And yet there were still some people who just didn't fear her enough.
"You boys at the back" she snarled as she pointed over to the back of the classroom.
Ahh, the boys at the back. There's such a thing to be said about a high school's social hierarchy. It followed the same, cliche, stereotypical pattern as every American high school rom-com movie does. It is the same each time, each year. At the bottom: nerds, geeks, unconventionally attractive pupils, or just simply people who strive to succeed academically which for some reason makes you a loser. And at the top? Hot, rich mean girl gangs who absorb their power by thriving off the fear of the 'low-lives' below them. And, of course, the boys at the back.
"Why are you still talking? Did you not hear me the first time?"
One of them mumbled and snickered but it was hard to tell who. Or at least, for the principle it was.
It was quite clearly Wooyoung. Known for never knowing when to shut up, Wooyoung was the one to not understand when things went too far, or when a situation was too serious. And he was the one to get away with everything.
"Who's still talking?"
Wooyoung decides, the clown that he is, to turn to Seonghwa in this instance, with the usual shit-eating grin on his face, making it seem like Seonghwa was the accomplice.
"Was it you, pretty boy? To the front of the class now!"
Seonghwa glared daggers into Wooyoung as he reluctantly grabbed his stuff and got up to walk right to the front.
Even just walking through the class, you could see how much power Seonghwa would hold. Girls would giggle and swoon over him, whispering to each other about how good he looked today. Boys would cough awkwardly as he walked passed them, pretending not to be even remotely attracted to him. And the nerds at the front wouldn't even dare look at him. Especially you.
Which was typical because the only desk that was free at the front for him to sit at was the one directly next to yours.
So, as you screamed internally at yourself for not choosing another seat at the start of the year, Seonghwa settled down next to you, throwing his stuff on the desk and sitting back leisurely on his seat. he let out a long, dramatic sigh.
"Good. Now the rest of you need to get on, you will be tested on this!" Everyone let out a low groan at this, and then the principal promptly left without another word.
The usual rumble of conversation started up again. You stared downwards at the work in front of you, trying to concentrate on something, anything that wasn't the hot guy next to you.
"Hey."
Your heart stopped. Breath hitched up in your throat as you strangled on a previous inhale. Is he talking to me? You thought to yourself. Eyes wide with fear, anticipation, and excitement, you decided to do the unthinkable.
You turned towards him.
Never had it occurred to you that, not only was he talking to you, but he was looking at you too. So as you mustered up the courage to turn your head towards him, you were faced with two, large, deadly brown orbs staring at you, eating you alive by the intensity of his gaze. This was the closest he had been to you. And the bravest you had ever been to dare to take his features in this close. You couldn't help yourself. Eyes trailing along his smooth, tanned skin, jawline so sharp you were convinced you could cut yourself on it if you touch it. Jet black hair styled to frame his face so expertly; so precise was the wisps of his fringe, and although he kept brushing his hair back with his long fingers, the stubborn stray hairs would remain rested neatly on his forward. Perfect. Strong cheekbones, magnificently angled nose, luscious lips that hid a devious tongue.
And all this time you were staring at him. But by God did he stare back. Reality only hit you once you were done drinking in his features, savouring the human painting before you as if he was the last painting left on earth. You only blinked your eyes downwards once you were conscious and very much aware that your wide eyes and agape mouth had made his eyes sparkle with curiosity.
"Hi" was all you could muster. A feeble, pathetic excuse of a word that he could barely hear. He felt the corner of his lips pull up at your response.
"What are we actually supposed to be learning?"
You were surprised at his question. Did he actually wanna do the work? Or did he just want to talk to you? Or.. or... what was happening?? You blinked in response before clearing your throat.
"Well, today's lesson is about angels. You know, the different types of angels, and different religious interpretations of what they are like. Miss just finished talking about Guardian angels and-"
"Oh, I don't actually care sweetie," he chuckled lowly as you blushed ferociously at the sudden pet name. You suspected he was mocking you, but all the while his eyes held a warm curiosity as he continued to gaze at you. "I don't believe in angels or anything like that, tsk."
Perhaps he was passing the time. Making the lesson go faster for himself by making conversation. That's how you viewed it anyway.
"Why did you ask then?"
Your sudden boldness shocked you both, but you hid it well. His eyebrow quirked up with interest.
"I just wanted to that pretty voice of yours," he hummed, his tone a mixture of playful banter and flirtatious intent. It made your cheeks feel warm.
"Do you believe in any of this crap then?" He queried, suddenly looking away and taking a much more serious interest in his broken pencil, which he played with masterfully and with great skill between the fingers of his right hand.
You tried not to get defensive about his ignorant and outright rude attitude. Part felt that that's what he wanted. He wanted to lure you into a trap, an argument, and all just for his amusement.
"I like the idea of guardian angels," you paused to look away from him, your gaze sinking to your desk again, "having someone to watch over you like that... I don't know... the whole idea makes me feel less... less lonely."
That was your truth. This wasn't the first conversation you envisioned having with him. It felt a bit strange, a bit peculiar. Too deep too quick, especially with someone like him.
You expected him to scoff at this considering his previous remark. But you felt him gaze at you once more. He didn't tut, he didn't hum in response. He just turned away without another word.
That was the first time you interacted with Seonghwa. And you had a feeling, deep down, that it would be your last.
I mean, who were you kidding? You both guys ran in different circles. Had different lives, different friends, different... everything.
You knew this, and you knew this well. So why were you still thinking about him?
You felt he was undoubtedly out-of-your-league in all aspects. Looks, attitude, social status. Stuff that meant absolutely nothing to you but supposedly meant everything to everybody else. It was infuriating to tolerate these mindsets on a daily basis and yet you find yourself enduring and getting swallowed but the same expectations these mindsets create.
As you wallow in a stream of these thoughts you do not think for a second that the boy you now had eyes for - the delinquent who took a shine to you for reasons you could not explain - would be thinking about you in the same way.
But he was. And he hated it.
He wasn't a ladies' man like Wooyoung was. Wooyoung thrived when given attention from a pretty girl and he would do anything to impress them. Seonghwa was just not like that.
Rather, he preferred to flirt around, subtly. Throw a few winks here and there, biting his lip for too long as he made fleeting eye contact with as many girls as he could. He was quiet in his flirtatious endeavours, but he never really meant anything.
So he doesn't know why he starts feeling this way about you.
"What's the matter with you then?" Wooyoung nudged his friend, who seemed quieter than usual. The usual gang of boys met on the rooftop of the art building in their school. They would usually stay back well after hours, long until it gets dark. No one knew they were there, and jumping the gates was easy when they need to exit.
So that's where they were, vaping sloppily and drinking uncontrollably. The bottles of beers accumulated around the overflowing rubbish bin. It was surprising that no one caught on to their activities considering they were shamelessly loud, with zero fear of getting found out, perhaps because they got away with everything.
"Nothing, I'm fine," Seonghwa shrugged his friend off, staring down at the glass bottle in his hand.
Wooyoung isn't stupid. He knows when something isn't quite right. Better yet, he is persistent. Stubborn, even. Annoyingly determined to chip away at you until you crack. He gets what he wants.
"Must be some lucky girl for you to be thinking about her so much," Wooyoung teased as the rest joined in to chuckle. Seonghwa scowled at the boy, glaring at him in a way that would send chills to someone's heart. It was a shame that he was glaring at Wooyoung, who was simply brimming with audacity. Seonghwa knew better than to get into an argument with him, so he just kept quiet.
What Wooyoung said made him think though. Why was he thinking about you? Why you, specifically? His calculating eyes shifted from one object to another as he tried to pattern in his mind some sound reasoning.
Perhaps it was the way you looked at him. Well, other people stared at his face on a daily. He just looked so perfect. So absolutely stunning. As Seonghwa looked back he realised you had the same gaze and yet something different. It was obvious you admired his appearance, perhaps even shocked when seeing him up close. However, he recalled a certain trace of curiosity. Of excitement. And as you stared at his face like this, he didn't realise was studying yours.
Yet, there was something in the way you interacted with him; the spike of boldness that shot out of you was something he didn't quite expect. Most girls either stammer like idiots when trying to talk to him, or they screech and giggle and touch him playfully when he doesn't want them to. There's no in-between. So admittedly, he was caught a bit off guard by how you responded to him.
And he liked being caught off guard.
It had been a long ass day and you were, quite frankly, fed up. With your last lesson just finished you were so, so ready to go. Shoving your notebooks into your already heavy bag, you were stopped by the teacher.
"Y/N, I was just wondering if you wanted to join some extracurricular activities? It would really boost up your grades and would make your CV look excellent-"
Ah yes, of course. Here comes the lecture all the bright pupils get which guilt trip them into joining some weird club that no one goes to. You've heard this all before, and you weren't considering it now. It's a shame your teacher caught you at the wrong time because you were barely able to keep your eyes open from pure exhaustion as she spoke to you.
"Thanks Miss, but I've been really busy lately.."
You could see the disappointment in her face but you were so done with the day that you didn't even care.
"Just think about it, okay?"
Heaving a sigh, you slung your bag over your shoulder while the teacher left the classroom.
You knew one of the boys was still there, lurking at the back somewhere. The same group of boys always stayed back and you couldn't possibly think why. And you didn't dare to ask.
"Hey, Princess~"
You couldn't pin that voice on a face. It sounded familiar, but all the boys' voices sounded the same. Only Wooyoung's voice stood out the most since he talked so damn much. And, of course, Seonghwa's...
"You joining a stupid little club for your favourite teacher, eh?"
It was so petty you could've laughed. You turned around to face whoever this boy was, and his name escaped you. His name didn't matter to you regardless.
It unnerved you that he was by himself. Sure, having a whole group of them sneer at you wasn't ideal, but being alone with this guy after school hours made you want to run. But you didn't.
Your unamused face made the boy chuckle as you stared directly into his eyes. You wish you hadn't looked there, because surely you must have looked terrified by now; how he stalked up to you with confidence and intensity of a crow attacking a fresh piece of roadkill.
You stood your ground.
"No, I decided not to."
End of conversation. Done. Dusted. Swept under the rug.
Surely?
He was at an uncomfortable distance now, too close for someone you don't know. And even closer for someone you didn't want to know.
"Good girl."
You shivered. The dread built up in the pit of your stomach.
"Still," he mused, "a strip club doesn't sound so bad."
He had you pressed up against the table as his hands started for the strap of your vest top, a finger curling around it as he slowly started to pull it down. You were paralysed. Eyes wide with fear and disbelief and confusion. You should've run, you told yourself. You should've run you stupid girl.
"Get your fucking hands off her!"
There was a voice, familiar in its depth, but not so familiar in its intensity and rage. Both of you snapped your head over to find Seonghwa, his eyes emoting the most indescribable anger someone could ever feel.
"What the fuck is wrong with you man, let us have our fu-"
It was too late. A fist thrown to the face was enough to send the boy flying. He was weak as he crashed down dramatically into one of the desks. Seonghwa moved to him and kept going. Punch, kick, slam. The boy would be bruised for weeks.
But he ran off anyway, stumbling out of the class. The heavy footfall of his feet echoed down the hall.
You and Seonghwa stared at each other in silence.
His eyes were full of regret. Regret that he didn't stay behind with his 'friend.' Regret that he let you see this violent side of him. Regret that he wasn't there for you. If he hadn't come in at the right time-
Your eyes were filled with sorrow, vision clouded by the beads of tears that formed at the bottom of your eyes. You had felt so alone, so out of your depth and in danger.
"Thank you so much," you burst into tears. You grabbed him and sunk your head into his chest and sobbed into the fabric of his t-shirt. Holding him close into a feeble, yet certain, hug. It was not something you intended to do, but in the overwhelming situation you found yourself in, you felt you owed him the world.
So a hug will do for now.
"Of course he's out of the group, what are you even saying? It's no problem! He was a twat anyway."
Wooyoung sucked on his lollipop with such passion and vigour that Seonghwa thought he was going to inhale and choke on it, which admittedly would've been quite funny.
They sat by themselves on the rooftop, dangling their feet over the edge. They could see the sunset very clearly. It was beautiful. Wooyoung teased that it was almost... romantic! Of course this caused to threaten to push him over the edge for.
"You really pummelled him in though. He's got a black eye and everything. I never thought you were the type," Wooyoung said through slurps, talking with his lollipop still in his mouth.
Seonghwa stared at the sun ahead, its rays giving his face an ethereal glow.
"I don't care."
There was a moment of silence. Seonghwa's eyes stared ahead.
"I can't let anything happen to her."
"Why though?"
"I don't know. I don't even know!"
"I do."
"Huh?"
"You L word her."
Wooyoung chose this moment to flutter his eyelashes mockingly at Seonghwa.
"Shut up."
"You do!"
"That doesn't make any sense I don't even know her."
Seonghwa may have said this but, in his heart, he knew he was wrong. Deep down he knew you. He had watched over you, observed the way you talk, what your interests are, what classes you liked the most that make your eyes light up, and what classes you hated and never put your hand up in. All from the back of the class, he would peak every now and then just to make sure you were okay. Like a guardian angel-
"Maybe you want to know her."
Seonghwa looked at his friend with an eyebrow quirked.
"How does your eyebrow not hurt from you doing that so much I will never know..."
"You're a pain in my ass, Wooyoung."
Seonghwa chuckled and gazed at Wooyoung fondly. It was nice having a friend like him to talk to about anything. Wooyoung can be crazy at times but he always has his back, that's for sure.
"Don't worry, I got this for you."
Seonghwa scrunched up his face in confusion.
"Wait wha-"
"Shhh, don't worry. I have an idea~"
"Not another one of your crazy-ass ideas."
"Don't worry. You're gonna love this one!"
The end of the day on the last day of term felt like such a rush. Nothing exciting happened but you didn't expect much to begin with.
"Bye, I'll see you after summer," you hugged one of your friends goodbye, giving them a squeeze. It would be lonely without them for all this time, as they were going on holiday. There was a certain emptiness you felt at the bottom of your heart when you watched them walk away. You felt there was nothing to look forward to until they returned. It was a shame.
The hallway was starting to lull down with its usual chaos and students fled the school as soon as the bell rang. One by one, students disappeared until only a few remained around you.
As you fiddled with the keys to your locker, on opening it a piece of paper slipped out of it.
Your eyes sparkle with curiosity as you leaned down to pick the paper up. It was small and folded. Your fingers worked at opening it up, revealing slanted handwriting in black biro pen:
'Meet me on the art room roof.
~ Your Guardian Angel'
Your eyes glossed over now, staring at the paper. It was hard for you to examine what you had felt. It wasn't disbelief or shock or confusion. It was certainty. Relief. Comfort.
Smiling to yourself, you did as you were instructed. There was a quickness in your step, a skip of hope and anticipation as you marched to the other side of the school.
Up the stairs to the art classroom, opening the fire exit door and up some more stone stairs, cold and loud with each footstep. And up you were, on the roof, the sky now open to you with open arms as you were embraced by a warm breeze.
There stood Seonghwa, his slicked back hair shining in the sun. His shirt was untucked and hanging over his black trousers, and he wore his usual white bomber jacket on his back, which you thought, at this moment, looked like two angel wings. Perhaps you were romanticising, but it was his fault.
His back was to you as he stood near the edge of the roof. It was like he was posing, like he was in a movie and this was his action shot. As the drone camera circulates around him, getting a 360 cinematic shot of him, his face would be revealed as daring, determined eyes shining in his passion. That's what you had imagined.
"Is this my guardian angel?"
There was no movement when he heard your voice. You expected him to turn around but maybe he had other plans. Maybe he wanted you to come to him. On debating about it in your mind, you decided to give in, shuffling closer until you were right beside him, staring out into the distance just like he did.
"I don't believe in that crap, you know that."
This statement didn't hurt you. His voice was soft, playful, almost melodic. There was a purposeful gentleness about his words in which no man had ever spoken to you before.
A silence was shared between you both, and you couldn't discern whether it was awkward or just simply... was.
"But I like the idea of it," he continued. "The whole idea makes me feel less... lonely."
You recognised your own words that you had said to him before, and suddenly the bubbling sensation of hope erupted in your heart.
He turned to you with a fond smile, and at that moment your eyes connected. You had never felt so at ease when gazing into someone's eyes before. Seonghwa had a warm reassurance that no one could quite match.
Pulling you close to him, he embraced you gently, head atop yours as you both gazed out at the view together. It felt so intimate, like you had both shared a secret, that could never be told to another soul. It felt safe, comfortable. It just felt right.
Secure in his arms, shielded, protected: that's where Seonghwa wanted you to be, always.
#park seonghwa#seonghwa#ateez#atz#kpop#requested#ateez reactions#ateez scenarios#ateez fluff#ateez au#au#ateez angst#ateez imagines#ateez fic#ateez x reader#seonghwa x reader#kpop scenarios#kpop au#seonghwa au#atz x reader#atz fluff#kpop fluff#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#atz fic#atz fanfic
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I'm trying very hard to reconcile my own personal instinct to recoil from people being encouraged to try homeschooling with my own knowledge that the American education system is designed to be inconsistent, abusive, and beyond substandard. I do completely understand why people want to pull their children out of it.
But as someone who fell into the cracks between Homeschool and Formal education, I sincerely caution parents seeking to homeschool their children to be very careful in how you go about it
There are laws governing who can and how you can homeschool that differs from state to state. In some places, you can be any ol' Joe Blow off the street, pull your kids out, and teach them whatever you want. In some, you have to have a background in education, or you have to teach a specific curriculum. And in others, there's a mix between the two extremes.
Sometimes you have to keep and send transcripts, and if you continue the process through to "graduation", there may be no standard for issuing a graduation certificate that they can use in the future as proof of education. My diploma that tells employers I have the minimum education in the US was printed off of Google in 2009.
In Louisiana, at least in the late 90s/early aughts, all you had to do was let the school board know you intended to provide education at home, register a "school name" and then re-send that registration each semester.
I was pulled out of school in the year 2000, iirc, following a move from New Jersey to Louisiana, where I was actually significantly behind due to the differences between the grade curriculum in each state. In NJ, I was learning the times tables for the first time, and in LA, we were supposed to be dividing fractions. And then, Katrina hit, and we moved around a decent amount, and for the years between 2005 and 2009, I think I just didn't exist as far as the educational system was concerned.
I was a fat undiagnosed neurodivergent queer biracial kid with heap loads of trauma, and the struggles I experienced within the formal education system were absolutely hugely informed by those aspects of my existence. I was being bullied for all the reasons, struggling with my neurodivergency that made all my schoolwork so damn hard, and my family -- already fairly outside of the societal norm in a number of ways, while fitting in perfectly well in others -- did not have and was not provided with the resources to effectively ensure an accessible and consistent form of education for me.
The education system in the US is not just one type of failure, and taking it into your own hands, in my experience and the experiences of many other formerly homeschooled adults, may not do more than give your child a new form of educational trauma.
I cannot do more than the most basic addition and subtraction in my head. I do not have a comprehensive understanding of American, let alone worldwide, history. Science? I got nothing. People talk about learning from the "School of hard knocks" but no, really, I had to learn a lot of practical life skills and knowledge through fucking up and hoping for the best until someone was kind enough to help me out.
(If you've been here on my blog for more than a minute, you might think to yourself, "Reyah, that's still true" and sweet honey baby darling, you're not wrong lmao)
I am lucky enough that my parents are very educated people, were always willing to talk about things with me, and I learned concepts very well through discussion, so I was able to pick up a lot of the skills and knowledge I needed to survive as an adult essentially through social and cultural osmosis. But there's a lot that I missed out on, and struggle as an adult to rectify. (And I'm not even going to pretend that there isn't a lot that I had to unlearn.)
So instead, I exist as someone failed by the educational system in a country that, in my opinion, nearly deifies diplomas to an unhealthy degree (no pun intended), and there's a lot of trauma tied up in that.
To make it super clear: College websites give me panic attacks, and there was a period of time where I absolutely browsed those sites as a form of self-harm. (I no longer do this, I promise)
And I want to be incredibly clear that I am not saying that our children should simply continue to be suffering under these incredibly abusive systems, or that you shouldn't give homeschooling an honest to goodness attempt. Especially if the public system is unsafe for your child.
I don't blame my parents in the slightest for the situations we were in during my childhood because I can pinpoint the specific systems that failed my family every step of the way. Education, healthcare, employment, housing -- none of those systemic failures are the personal fault of my parents doing their best in a country that was not designed to actually help people in need.
I also cannot say that I would have been "better off" staying in public school. Maybe I would have been in some aspects, and worse off in others. I know several recently-dropped out young adults that did so due to a hellish combination of abuse, bigotry, insufficient or outright being denied accommodations for disabilities, and more. I can't say that I would have had a better experience than them, or even a particularly different one, if I had remained enrolled.
I have a good friend, only slightly older than me, who had a very similar experience to mine who is now a college professor, and is still unpacking the traumas of his experiences. I cannot sing his praises enough -- he's probably the main reason I feel remotely confident talking about this at all, let alone in a public forum. I have a lot of personal shame wrapped up in my lack of formal education, and his ability to be open about his schooling history has greatly informed my own to an incredible degree.
I hope that talking about my own experiences with homeschooling will give parents the opportunity to avoid putting their children through similar trials to mine, whether by seeing the pitfalls early enough to detour or by seeking other means to provide safe and accessible education to their children.
If homeschooling is something your family is genuinely interested in pursuing, I would ask that you seek to work with local teachers, your libraries, mental health professionals, and seek out the experiences of homeschooled adults. Especially from those who have similar difficulties to your child.
Most importantly: Listen to your kid, and if they can't advocate for themself, for whatever reason, you need to be prepared to step in for them. (Even against yourself, sometimes.)
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