#i want to show my latin teacher this

[inaflashimagine]

lo mejor (i)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)

summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.

a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!

3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses

masterlist | one | two

–

“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”

As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”

“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”

“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”

Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.

“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”

“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”

Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?” 

“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”

Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.

Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.

But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.

Or rather, you did.

“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”

–

Miguel was having a bad day. 

It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.

Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)

Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks. 

But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas. 

“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”

“He promised me not to tell you!” 

And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.

Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”

“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)

“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”

“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”

Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?

“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”

An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from. 

His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:

“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”

Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”

“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened? 

“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”

He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.

— 

Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.

This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained. 

And so did you.

Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night. 

With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.

O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.

“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”

“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?

Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop. 

And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.

Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises. 

“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”

Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him. 

Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.

“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”

Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.

“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”

There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.

“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”

You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”

Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”

“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky. 

He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet. 

He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”

Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla. 

And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.

“I’ll take them all.”

–

When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.

However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.

And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.

You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling. 

But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada. 

And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking. 

“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be. 

It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.

He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises. 

A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.

It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”

“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”

He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze. 

“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”

You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.

“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”

“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”

“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”

The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke. 

“How would this so-called challenge even work?”

“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”

“¿Y si no me gustan?”

“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”

You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”

“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden. 

Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.

And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.

Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.

“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”

“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”

“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.   

Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.” 

You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

–

translations (please lmk if you need more):

Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl

El jefe - the boss

Un pendejo - a dumbass

Maldita sea - goddamn it

Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss

Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf

Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!

No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish

Estoy bien - I'm fine

Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?

¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert

Una coca - A Coca Cola

Si la tienes - If you have it

Que en paza descanse - may she rip

Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops

Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?

No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #astv x reader #lo mejor series

[hellfire--cult]

Request:

i’d love a sequel where there’s a bit of a “day in the life” with the new happy family, or maybe like some vignettes of them getting settled in and making their new home their own? i would literally love any more content in this universe but there’s my ideas in the hat! 🤍

-

Your wish is my command 💚

Hook!Eddie x Fem!Reader

wc 3.5K

Read the main story here. 🌟

Summary: This is what happens after everyone starts living in the home. A recap of everything that's happened until we reach the present.

You can always support your writers by hitting THE REBLOG button! 💚

You can always send requests for this beautiful couple! My ask is open!

Hooked on You: After Story

Life after was something everyone had to get used to.

The boys had to be given names, full names, and thankfully Nancy who has some contacts in the newspaper industry pulled some strings for your “orphaned” family.

You didn’t give specifics, but told her that you started dating a man who was struggling to keep his family afloat. They had no records since they were living anywhere they could, and he just picked the kids up like strays. He and his best friend took care of the kids, and that it was a coincidence in meeting when you hired a ‘cleaning service’. 

But it wasn’t just any name. 

When you showed up with a big smile to your face at dinner, while everyone was enjoying themselves with the food, you had grasped in your hands the adoption papers for each boy in the group. 

Through tears, and smiles, they had hugged you one by one, appreciating your kindness but overall, calling you a different name. 

Mom.

Eddie, whose last name he chose was Munson, was stunned when he asked if they were going to call him Dad and each boy grimaced at that outcome, shaking their heads. After that Eddie had played a game of chase with the children, playing as the big bad bear, with his hands above his head, reaching for the boys.

That was another change.

“So, this is a– what?” 

“Prosthetic. It’s not normal to have a hook as a second hand here, and this has motor sensors, so you can basically have another hand!” You had explained to him, and he was stunned at the realization that he could have his left hand back. But sometimes, he discards the prosthetic, and goes back to his hook because he feels complete with it, that’s what he had told you.

Steve, now Steve Harrington, had acquired the second mom title. Whenever you were gone, or busy, or simply tired, he took care of the boys, played with them, and helped them clean the house. 

It was summer time, but you knew you will have to enroll the kids into school soon, but you had to teach them basic things, such as the ABC, numbers, some math, a little bit of history and biology, and Eddie and Steve listened intently, giving their own teachings here and there. 

You didn’t want your boys to go into middle school without knowing at least the basics, because then everything would be too complex, so thankfully, Robin, who is a teacher, happily comes once a week to give her own teaching to the kids. You found out that Steve and her had developed a strong friendship during the two months you all had been living together.

Another thing they discovered was music.

While the kids loved normal pop songs, except for Mike who had taken a liking to punk music, Steve had loved the 80’s vibe, sticking to it, and then some 90’s, but poor Eddie had not found himself in any of those genres. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was that he might like, but it wasn’t any of that. 

You had tried almost everything, latin music, grunge, rock, techno, but he was still not feeling any of those genres. You were in your room when trying everything in his music app on his phone, and you sighed when he, once again, said he didn’t feel anything from it. 

“I really don’t know what else to play Eds…” He grabbed his phone, which you had taught everyone in the house how to use and bought one for each of them, and started scrolling. 

“There was something about that Rock genre that you showed me… Something is there, but not fully?” You frowned in confusion at his words, and you had to think outside the box. You were showing him things you liked, so maybe, you had to show him things that you wouldn’t normally listen to.

“Hang on…” You grabbed his phone again and searched for a particular playlist. You grabbed his headphones from his night table, and urged him to put them on. He was confused, but did so anyways, and you pressed play onto the playlist.

Eddie’s eyes widened at the sudden strum of a guitar, wild, heavy, powerful, chord after chord. You bit your lip as you stared at his face, and by the smile that was spreading on his cheeks you knew that you hit the jackpot. 

He spent an entire day listening to Metallica. Then the next day to Slipknot. Then Guns ‘n Roses. My Chemical Romance. Megadeth. Rammstein.

The man was a metalhead.

After finding their own music, they had to find their own style. The boys almost wore the same things, sometimes jeans, sometimes shorts, sometimes plaid shirts, sometimes stamped shirts, sneakers… Steve had gone for the rich boy vibe, as you called it. He likes polos, dress pants, tight denims, sweaters, maybe a cardigan.

Now Eddie, you were surprised. He liked everything black, ripped, and he loved the sound of chains as an accessory on his hip. When he found out there were shirts of the bands he started to like, he bought a ton of them, some in white, some in black. One thing that stayed authentic of Eddie, was the black bandana, which he sometimes uses on his head still, or he puts it in his back pocket.

But one of your favorite things in the whole day was going into your room, to finally be alone with him. He was always reading a book, and you came to find out that he loved fantasy. It was funny, because he came out of a fairytale himself, but yet he loves those kinds of books. He devoured Tolkien in a week. 

He would always put whatever he was reading down to welcome you into bed, embracing you in his arms, gentle kisses that always turned into heated ones because that’s another thing that happened. He couldn’t keep himself from touching you. 

And you didn’t want him to. The boys at first made gagging noises whenever he came into the kitchen for breakfast and gave you a morning kiss, lingering there more than it should, but they soon got used to it. Whenever he could, he was wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close, kissing your neck, your face, your shoulder, anywhere he saw skin. 

So you had to introduce him to condoms.

He wasn’t a fan of them, but when you remembered you two didn’t use protection in Neverland, he told you to not worry. In Neverland time is completely stopped, as well as your cycle, and that would explain why you didn’t have periods while being there. You were in such a blissful experience that you didn’t even remember about your period.

But in this world, you could get pregnant, and even if you want a kid of your own with Eddie, there was still so much to get used to for him. But still, it didn’t forbid him from touching every single night, wanting to drown himself in you, and you weren’t complaining. He was always up for trying new things, and you both had discovered many together.

You taught Eddie and Steve how to drive, but there wasn’t much for you to teach because as soon as they touched the steering wheel, they immediately got the hang of it, and Eddie even described it as easy as sailing a ship. You couldn’t believe a former pirate said a car feels like a ship. With the prosthetic, driving an automatic is very easy for Eddie. 

The kids love the pool, you bought a slide for it and a lot of floaters for them to swim in. You noticed how maternal you had gotten ever since getting the kids into your life, and it wasn’t something you thought of ever having. Now, you want more, for some reason. You always have to shake that thought out of your head because that would end badly.

Another thing you did, not very recommended in the summer, was getting a tattoo. You had tattooed your grandma’s drawing of Neverland. You knew there was a diary of hers, and she sometimes read the story from her own head, and sometimes from there and showed you the drawing. She explained she could see the island at the top of the clouds, while flying with Peter.

So you outlined it and tattooed it on your wrist. 

When Eddie saw it, he was immediately interested, knowing about tattoos but the tribe were the only people that knew how to do it. You decided to visit the shop once with him, and he got a hook tattoo on his ankle, to test the waters of the pain. After a week, you couldn’t find him anywhere for three hours, sending you into a panic, only for him to return with six more tattoos on his body, with a wide grin on his face.

“It's summer! One is already bad, you got seven!” You had yelled at him, but he just shrugged and grinned down at you.

“I’ll get even more in winter.” 

But summer was ending, as well as the boys started becoming nervous of going to school, which was a private one so they had to use uniforms for it. They complained of course, but you had promised them that the teacher they were having was going to be very patient and that you met the kids' parents of the class already and they all seemed nice and welcoming. 

A week before the start of classes, you decided it was time for a last pool party, and so, you invited Nancy, Jonathan and Robin over, where Robin mentioned she had a long distance friend visiting and she had asked if they could come over with their little sister, to which you agreed. 

So now, you were cutting the vegetables for the salads in your kitchen, as Jonathan helped Will start the fire outside for the BBQ. For some reason, Jonathan had taken particular liking to one of your kids, but that’s good, because Nancy had found herself teaching Mike how to play some chess, and Dustin was already attached to Eddie like a Piranha. 

One of your boys, though, was sitting alone on one of the lawn chairs, looking at nothing in particular, just the ripples of the water happening  on the pool. You put down your knife, ready to go talk to Lucas, but the doorbell rings, making your head snap that way.

“Don’t worry, I got it!” Steve yells as he rushes towards the door, opening it, to see Robin, a smile on his face as they hug tightly.

“Hi there Dingus.” She pulled away from the hug to point behind her back. “My friend is unloading something and he’s right here, okay?” 

“Yeah sure.” Steve turns his head to guide Robin towards the kitchen and garden where everyone is and she immediately bolts away. He hears a clear of throat and his head turns back around, only for his eyes to land on blue ones, knocking the breath out of his lungs in an instant.

“Hi, um… Hope we’re not intruding, it’s just, I’m with my sister and I couldn’t leave her alone.” The blonde man says, looking at Steve with the same hazed look in his eyes. Steve shook his head to come out of the trance he was in and smiled, putting his hand out for a shake.

“No issue at all! The boys will love her. I’m Steve by the way.” The other man smiles, his white teeth showing off as he presses his hand against Steve’s, electricity immediately coursing through their bodies.

“I’m Billy.”

“Are you going to keep flirting or…” A soft voice says from behind him, making Billy let go of Steve’s hand with a groan, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he makes way for the redheaded girl to come forward. “I’m Max.” 

“Oh hi–” Steve felt the presence of someone else next to him, and he turned his head to see Lucas, staring at the girl with a dreamy look in his eyes. 

“Hi… I’m Lucas.” Max’s lips tugged slightly up at the sight of the boy, her skateboard in hand. “What's that?” He pointed at it and she smiled widely, walking inside the house, grabbing onto his hand to guide him outside where everyone was.

“I’ll teach you!” Steve could hear her yell as he let Billy in. He closes the door only to see Billy looking all over the house with a confused frown on his face. 

“This is big… You all live here?” He asks and Steve stands next to him, nodding as he looks around as well.

“Yep. We are grateful to her, you know. We would have…” He suddenly heard some footsteps coming over and Steve turned his head to see Eddie reaching them, with a piece of bread in his hand, his other one reaching out to shake Billy’s.

“I’m Eddie.” He greets and Billy looks down at the prosthetic hand, shaking it carefully with him, and when Eddie lets go, the blonde man’s curiosity got the best of him.

“I’m Billy– Um… how did that happen?” He asks, pointing at the hand. Eddie looks down at it and then back at Billy.

“Crocodile bit it off.” He shrugs and walks towards the kitchen once again as Billy stands there completely stunned. Steve’s eyes were bulging out of his skull almost, and he was trying to come up with another excuse because that sounded way too unreal and he didn’t want Billy to think Eddie was messing with him.

“Fucking sick.” Billy says with a smile and he looks back down towards Steve. The brown haired man lets out a sigh of relief and then nods.

“Gruesome, but yeah, sick.” Billy just stands there looking at Steve, his mind completely drifting away and Steve could even sense that, as the blonde’s eyes were just gazing into his, and that was making Steve’s heart accelerate rapidly. “W-What’s wrong?”  That made Billy snap out but his face was still the same, still staring as if his eyes were not to be trusted.

“I-I don’t know, you just seem… like you came out of a fairytale or something.” Steve couldn’t help the big smile and blush that spread on his cheeks, while Billy realized what he had just said, embarrassment filling him from head to toe, stammering on his words to try to save it but Steve was just laughing, enjoying the man’s company and voice. 

You were sneaking glances through the kitchen door, a smile on your face as you bit your bottom lip. Everyone has someone in your family, your big family, and that fills you with joy. You felt an arm creep from behind you, pulling you close to a warm body. You giggle as his face immediately snuzzled in the crook of your neck, causing your skin to grow goosebumps from it. 

“Eddie–”

“Don’t spy on them. Let my second in command flirt in peace.” He says in your ear and you turn around to face him, smiling widely up at him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“I’m just so happy… Everyday just feels like a dream.” You say to him, and he gives you a nod, a gentle smile spreading on his lips as he leans down to kiss your cheek, then the tip of your nose, expressing his love for you.

“I will never regret the day I thought you were Wendy and kidnapped you.”

“I should sue.” He fake gasps while shaking his head at you.

“Now, you’ve hurt me Angel.” Your eyes looked to your side, seeing everyone playing with each other through the window pane you had, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of it all. Nothing could make it better. Nothing at all… Except.

You felt Eddie grip your side, giving it a soft press to catch your attention again. You looked at him and his eyes were nervous, full of doubt yet with determination. 

“Eds? What's wrong?”

“I know… The kids don’t call me dad… But–” He licked his lips while swallowing a big lump down his throat and your heart was almost out of your chest and you could hear its beating on your ears. He gives you a big grin as a tear already rolls down your cheek.

He grabs your hand and walks out of the kitchen to take you upstairs and into your grandmother’s room. He then opens the balcony’s door and steps out with you, the breeze already hitting you and the sun beaming down at your body.

“Close your eyes Angel.” He whispers in your ear as he lets go of your hand. Your breathing became heavy as you did as told, and you raised your head up, towards where the second star to the right is. You always wished on it, wished that it wouldn’t take your love away, that it wouldn’t take your children away, wished that everything was real and not a dream.

“Eddie–”

“Open them and turn around.” You did as told, turning to see Eddie on one knee, a box on his hand as his elbow rested on his knee. Your heart got caught in your throat as you looked at the diamond in the box, covering your mouth with both of your hands as tears started spilling out uncontrollably from your eyes.

“What…?”

“I want to be their dad. I want to be with you, forever, for as long as you’ll have me, or for as long as we live. You’re it for me Angel, you have been it for me from the moment you decided to fly towards me, towards the ship, instead of here.” He choked up on a sob and then took a deep breath to keep going. “I know it’s soon, but I can’t imagine my life with anyone else. In my eyes, into my future, you’re always there. You will always be there.” 

You dropped to your knees, as happiness flourished in your chest, smiling through your tears as you put your left hand up, putting it on display for him. You looked up at his big doe eyes, a tear slipping out of his left one as he looked down at you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive.

And you were.

“I’m ready to be Mrs. Hook.”

And when our journey is through, each time we say "Goodnight", we'll thank the little star that shines, the second from the right.

A/N: Remember you can still send requests for these two! I plan on making more little one shots for them, but this one is good so you can all know what happened after the return 🥰

Hope you enjoyed this magical little thing!

Song at the bottom is Second Star to the Right from the original 1953 Peter Pan soundtrack.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfiction #fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #hooked on you #captain hook!eddie #hook!eddie #peter pan au #peter pan #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson stranger things #eddie x you #eddiemunson #stranger things eddie #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x female reader #steve harrington #robin buckley #pirate!eddie munson #pirate!eddie #billy hargrove #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers

[chrystalwynd]

Where Everybody Knows Your Name- Part 1

Words: 2400

mc mf md tentacles

                I turned off the main street and started walking down the alley.

                I was in downtown Chrystal Heights, but this alley could have been anywhere. Different colored neon lights blinked above doorways and on signs jutting above the narrow alley, advertising various businesses and services. The types of businesses and services one uses a neon lit doorway in an otherwise dark alley to enter.

                I found the doorway I was looking for easily enough. I passed through the door and walked into The Electric Raven.

Inside was somewhat better lit, but only slightly. Track lighting made some areas fairly bright, but there were a host of darkened corners and nooks where one could sit relatively unobserved. If one wished, of course. Tables of different sizes were placed haphazardly, with no particular order to them. Old couches sat here and there, along with the occasional loveseat. Quotes, graphics and artistic images covered the walls. In one corner was a small slightly raised deck with a single dim spotlight shining on a microphone stand with a stool next to it.

                I paused for a moment. The Electric Raven was more environment than bar. It was smoky heat and neon mystery. Where the quiet and dangerous shared drinks with the casually intense. Where the lost and malevolent played darts with the virtuous and forbidden. A door between the known and unknown. A fun place to drink, but only if you knew the score.

                I glanced around. It was a typical night at The Electric Raven, if such a thing existed. A group of Hell’s Choir bikers were gathered around a table, singing show-tunes in Latin. A 19th-century British safari hunter played backgammon with a dwarf wearing a ballerina outfit. An eight-foot tall man wearing a loincloth and covered with tattoos debated Nietzsche with an unspeakably beautiful succubus, her pointed tail punctuating her assertions. A female ninja, barely visible in the smoky shadows, shared laughs and hair tips with a bearded transvestite. A live marionette twirled about the dance floor, her unseen strings manipulated by unseen hands, as she danced to the music from a mime’s air-guitar performance.

                Everyone was welcome at The Electric Raven and questions weren’t asked.

                So it was a quiet night. I strolled by the bar and nodded to the bartender. “Evening, Craig.”

                Craig was polishing an already-clean glass. He nodded back. “Elliot. ‘Ow’s tricks, mate?”

                I tossed a pretzel to the gremlin next to the cash register. His name was Dexter. Then I gave Craig a non-committal thumbs up and headed toward my favorite corner.

                The mime left the stage, replaced by an intense-looking man who didn’t blink enough. The man stepped up to the microphone and paused. Then he started speaking:

                “The power to change;

                the strength to not change.

                They are the Originals.

                The battle between Good and Evil continues;

                light and dark conflict.

                The teachers teach, but who watches the watchers?

                They are the Originals.”

                The man turned and exited the stage without waiting for the smattering of applause his poem had generated. The low buzz of conversation resumed.

I continued making my way toward my table. As I got there, however, I was stopped.

                She was dressed in tight clothing, her lush curves packaged perfectly, with all the right parts on display. From her blue-dyed hair to her manicured bare red toes, she was pure heat. She gave me a smile that offered all kinds of promises.

                “Hi,” she said, her fingers playing with my shirt. “My name is Kiki.”

                “Hi, Kiki,” I said, feeling the heat racing to my already thickening cock. “What can I do for you?”

                “I just wanted to say hi,” she said, pressing closer to me, letting me smell her delightful perfume. “Maybe we could get to know each other a little, you know?”

                I nodded, offering a foolish smile. “That sounds great.”

                “Oh, yes,” she said, her bare belly close to mine. “Maybe we could even have some fun.”

                I smiled. She was good. My dick was ready to burst out of my pants. But she was too inexperienced to close the deal this time. Particularly against someone like me.

                “That’s a wonderful idea,” I said. “Fun is good. So let’s have some fun.”

                And then I turned her power against her.

                Kiki’s eyes widened and her cheeks suddenly flushed. Her lips parted slightly, then closed. Her nipples were hard, thick erasers pressing out against the stretchy tightness of her top. She placed her palms on my chest, then slowly dropped to her knees in front of me.

                Her face was inches from my bulging zipper. I smiled as the heat-bunny struggled internally between rational thought and overwhelming physical need.

                Physical need won out, as I knew it would. Red nails found my zipper, pulled it down, allowing my rigid cock to spring free, nearly slapping Kiki in the face. Unable to help herself, she slid her warm, wet mouth over my cock.

                I smiled, enjoying the wave of pleasure generated by Kiki’s firmly-wrapped lips stroking over my dick. No doubt the patrons of [i]The Electric Raven[/i] were enjoying the show and Kiki was dying of embarrassment, but Kiki couldn’t have stopped working my cock any more than she could have grown a second head. All she could do was see it through to the end.

                This being Chrystal Heights, people are occasionally born with some random abilities. These abilities can take different forms. Sometimes that form is the ability to amplify someone else’s arousal to extreme levels. In males, it’s often found in Alphas and will usually result in any number of swelled bellies in their wakes. In females, it’s pretty much an amplification of a female’s natural ability.

                Of course, some women try to use it as Kiki did. Give a man a rock-hard dick, promise him pure bliss and get him in private. The man’s so revved up by the time the woman actually touches him, he absolutely explodes and then passes out from the amplified intensity. The woman then helps herself to the contents of his wallet and makes her way home. It works on women as well, but men tend to be easier and far more predictable marks. These women are usually referred to as heat-bunnies and are typically found in alleys or bars like The Electric Raven.

                It’s an easy way to make quick money and it’s not even illegal. Just another social peril to be aware of in Chrystal Heights. But as Kiki was learning, it was only fun until you run into somebody who can turn it around on you.

                Blue hair bobbing, Kiki’s mouth continued stroking over my shaft. She wasn’t bad, just inexperienced. To be fair, of course, it was unlikely she ever had to go this far with any of her marks. With her ability to raise a man’s arousal to maximum levels, a stroke or two with her hand would be enough to leave her mark snoring. It was even possible she was giving her first blowjob ever.

                By using her power on me, she had given me the ability to use it on her. Being a power mirror, with the ability to reflect one’s power back at them, made it easy. And now I decided to turn her arousal all the way to maximum as I filled her mouth with my semen.

                She moaned around my cock, making me explode harder and longer. Her throat worked as she helplessly swallowed my seed, my throbbing dick not giving her a moment to catch her breath. Her orgasms would likely have been shrill had my cock not been in her mouth.

                After what had to be endless moments for Kiki, my ejaculation finally slowed, then stopped. Whimpering, Kiki swallowed the last of my thick semen and finally slid her mouth off my cock. Still on her knees, she looked up at me with wide eyes, a hand on her full belly, breathing through her mouth.

                Everyone in the immediate area applauded her efforts. Cheeks flaming, the heat-bunny leaped to her feet and fled.

                I chuckled and sat down. Kiki had put me in a better mood.

                “That was disgusting,” said a voice. “She should have beat your ass.”

                I chuckled and said, “Hello, Tempest.”

                Tempest was a five-and-a-half foot tall bundle of anger and bad intentions. She was dressed head-to-toe in black leather, denim and spikes, complete with black boots. Her arms were covered with sharp-lined tattoos and beaded bracelets that contained any number of hexes and protection spells, complementing the daggers strapped to her waist. Even her haircut was angry. What little hair she had, anyway, as her head was shaved almost completely smooth except for a two-inch wide strip of hair running from her forehead to the back of her head. All-in-all, she projected quite the intimidating picture.

                She was also the waitress.

                “Fuck you, Elliot,” she said. “I’m still not talking to you. What the hell do you want?”

                I grinned. “You’re not still mad about that poker game, are you?”

                Tempest glared at me. “You got me wasted on fucking Stoneberry Wine!”

                I gave her an innocent look. “I thought you liked wine.”

                “You know damn well Stoneberry Wine isn’t actually wine, dickhead! It’s fucking radioactive moonshine made to taste like wine! I couldn’t fucking walk for two days!”

                “It actually made you likeable, Tempest,” I said. “Almost…adorable, you know? Especially afterward, when we-“

                Tempest drew a dagger and pressed the point against my throat in the same movement. “Shut the fuck up, dickhead! Nobody knows about that, all right? Nobody! And it fucking stays that way or I stick this dagger right up your-“

                Craig’s voice suddenly said, “Tempest!”

                Tempest glared at Craig for a moment, then exhaled and sheathed her dagger. “Fine. What do you want?”

                It seemed imprudent to make any more references to anything non-drink related. “Let me have a shot of Diamond Cutter.”

                Tempest nodded, then turned and stalked away. I admired the way her hips moved, but I knew enough to keep my observations to myself.

*****

                A few minutes later, I was enjoying my drink in relative quiet. I entertained myself by listening to three men discuss their upcoming trip to San Francisco on their search for some artifact lost or hidden there in the ‘40s. Not that that was unusual. Chrystal Heights was a common stop for those looking to buy or sell objects of power.

                Then the lights dimmed and smoke began swirling around an unoccupied table in the middle of the floor. Still swirling, the smoke thickened, then thinned out and misted away. The lights regained their earlier intensity. Such as it was.

                Left in the remnants of the smoke were two figures sitting at the table. Both were robed and hooded, one in black, the other in red. Between them sat what appeared to be an ancient chess board. The various pieces were intricately carved and spread about the board, as if in mid-game.

                The figure in the black robes glanced around. No face could be seen in the darkness under the hood. The figure in black then nodded and a voice sounded from inside the hood. “Well chosen, old friend.”

                The red-robed figure gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you,” he said. His voice, like the other, was low, but vibrant with power and knowledge, and it carried to all corners of The Electric Raven. “We are agreed then?”

                The black-robed figure said, “Agreed.”

                As the sound of the black-robed figure’s voice faded, a single red square appeared on the floor next to their table. The square expanded, growing larger, and then and other squares appeared, expanding from the original square. As the squares expanded, any chairs or tables in the way were simply moved by whatever unseen force was creating the checkered floor.

                Soon a ten-foot by ten-foot chess board occupied the space next to the table, the squares alternating red and black. Both robed figures nodded their satisfaction.

                “The battlefield is set,” said the figure in red. “Your move, old friend.”

                At any other establishment, this would be considered extraordinary. But here at [i]The Electric Raven[/i], it was merely unusual.

                The black-robed figure was silent for a moment. Then he moved a piece on the board and said, “Black knight attacks red rook.”

                A swirl of smoke appeared on the black figure’s side of the chessboard. Then the smoke cleared, revealing a cute cheerleader with a sweet smile and evil eyes. There was a horse-head on the front of her sweater and the words “Go Knights!” embroidered on the back.

                I glanced around. I recognized the cheerleader as one of a pair that had been discussing Emily Dickenson over shots of Jagermeister with a pair of nuns.

                There was another swirl of smoke on the opposite side of the board. When the smoke cleared, a young woman stood in a paint-smeared smock, an easel standing in front of her.

                “An art mage,” murmured the black-robed figure. “An interesting move, old friend.”

                “I find your choice to be just as fascinating,” said the red-robed figure. “Shall we begin?”

                “Indeed.”

                And then the battle began.

                The cheerleader leaped forward and launched into a complicated series of backflips and summersaults. She seemed to be moving in all directions at once. Then she suddenly shot forward directly toward the art mage.

                The young woman had not been idle, however. Her paintbrush had been flying around the canvas at an incredible speed. The art mage suddenly stopped painting and reached out to touch the canvas. She made a single motion across the canvas just as the cheerleader’s attack arrived.

                The cheerleader leaped forward, the blade of her foot extended. It struck a trampoline that hadn’t been there a moment earlier. The force of her attack caused her to rebound high in the air. She landed on the ground with a loud thud.

                “She very nearly landed out of bounds,” said red robes.

                “Nearly is not the same as did,” said black robes.

                The art mage began working again on the now-blank canvas and the trampoline immediately faded away. The cheerleader struggled back to her feet. Then the art mage swiped across the canvas again.

                Immediately a battery of missiles appeared on either side of the art mage. One-by-one, they began launching, directed at the cheerleader.

[CONCLUDED IN PART 2]

#Where Everybody Knows Your Name #Electric Raven #Chrystal Heights

[gabessquishytum]

I've been watching a lot of West Coast Swing Dance videos, and I seriously think fandom as a whole is sleeping on this as a new AU: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WsmJllMA5c

WCS competions have a format called Jack & Jill that is totally improv, where your music and often your partner are chosen randomly, and it's a very latin-inspired kind of dance so as a viewer it's very easy to imagine sexual tension between the dancers. You compete as either a leader (typically men) or follower (typically women) and it's essentially the lead's job to provide the strength and stability to show off their follow, who's usually doing the fancier-looking moves like spins and dips.

So imagine: Hob is a well-known swing dance teacher, he mostly makes his money running classes for engaged couples to dance at their weddings, and while he doesn't compete much anymore he's known as a very capable lead. He's an expert at helping beginners learn their fundamentals and feel comfortable.

Meanwhile, Dream is a notoriously difficult follow on the competition circuit. He is very creative, and an undeniably graceful dancer, but he pushes his partners too hard and doesn't actually follow his lead's lead (bratty sub vibes for days).

When the two get partnered up, Dream expects Hob to be boring, but instead it feels like he's being understood for the first time ever. Hob just *gets* him, his footwork is excellent and his read on Dream's body language is like nothing Dream has ever experienced. Hob understands that when Dream pulls away too hard he doesn't want Hob to let go, but instead needs him to match his strength and give Dream a stable anchor for his next crazy move. They are unstoppable force meets immovable object and watching them dance is like magic. There are established couples dancing choreographed dances that don't look as in sync as these two.

And more than that, Hob knows how to 'yes, and' better than any partner Dream has ever had, maintaining his lead and his control no matter what wild new move Dream thinks up and even bringing things to their dance that Dream would never have thought to include. It's enough of a difference for him that at one point Dream gets annoyed at not being the one in control and attempts a move that is genuinely dangerous. But Hob just controls his body's momentum and smoothly turns it into something safe, then pulls Dream close to tsk in his ear.

"Now, don't make me put you over my knee in front of all these people, darling."

I cannot dance to save my LIFE so this fascinates me so much.... improv!!! Wow!!!

Of course Dream is a brat. He wants to be the centre of everyone's attention, naturally, but he also wants to do his own thing. Sometimes he might as well be dancing solo, for all the effort he puts into engaging with his partner. But Hob isn't having any of that. From the first moment, he's forcing eye contact. Reading Dream like a book. Not allowing him the control he's so used to having. And yet he isn't blocking Dream, or stopping him from expressing himself... oh no, he's just matching the energy. If Dream takes it up a notch, Hob is already there with him - he anticipates what Dream might do before Dream has even decided!

Dream hates him. And it's also the most satisfying dance he's ever had. His body is in love. And Hob is infuriatingly casual about the whole thing. He even goes so far as to critique Dream! "Your lines are very good but you do get a bit sloppy with your facial expressions. You could at least try not to look like you want to burn the world down." He means it in a friendly way, Dream thinks, but his ego still can't take it. He vows never to dance with Hob again.

At the next competition, one of the leads drops out, and guess who kindly steps in as a replacement? And guess who gets randomly picked as Dream’s partner?

And after they win the competition, Dream kisses Hob so hard he nearly knocks both of their teeth out. Totally worth it.

#loversreason #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[phantomram-b00]

If you’re Latine/Latinx who don’t know how to speak Spanish. That’s okay, you’re still Latine/Latinx.

So since it the last day of Hispanic heritage, and honestly I wish I was more participle with this month as an Hispanic. I’ll try to do that next time, I think honestly I just really don’t know what to exactly post, but then I had a thought. Something I wish I had someone tell me back then. So I want to talk about it in honor of Hispanic heritage month, sorry if I did this on the last day, I’ll do better next time. But for now, I wanna share just a small story while also showing encouragement, so hope you like it.

So, If you go on my introduction post, I noted that I’m Puerto Rican and also, that I don’t know how to speak Spanish. Ironic/silly isn’t it? It even more so considering mostly all my family speak Spanish, so your a question that your asking is “didn’t your folks teach you?”. Well, haha about that, you see I’m not gonna reveal anything super personal, all imma say to give context is that I couldn’t talk until I was exactly five years old; so my mom kinda had no other choice but to teach me English. So most of my childhood that was the only language I learn.

Now probably also wondering “well, you learn English? didn’t you have Spanish class?”, yes I did, in my state at least, the require language to learn was Spanish (which imma reveal a very silly funfact: I thought because of movies/show the require language was French because all they learn was french.), so as a kid I wanted to learn; only, people there already were very advantage in Spanish, a lot better than me, (small context: in my state, majority of the people are more Spanish speakers, let me clarify I’m not saying this is bad since I do love Spanish. I’m just clarifying to provide context) and not only that, the spanish at least I was taught were completely different than the Spanish I know with my folks. So as a kid, it made me really insecure about my Spanish skills, like sure I knew some basic and whatnot but I couldn’t and still can’t speak fluently like my folks. So overtime, I got insecure about my identity too. It got to the point that I wasn’t proud to be Hispanic, because back then a thought that would play was “what’s the point if I can’t even speak our basic language?”. This wasn’t to say I didn’t love being Puerto Rican or Puerto Rico as a whole, I love being Puerto Rican and Puerto Rico, I just felt in a way, I’m not worthy to call myself Puerto Rican if I couldn’t speak Spanish. I still remember a teacher even told me that “it kinda is your mom fault for not teaching you” and it boy if that didn’t make me more self conscious. (There was more, but I’m not comfortable revealing them just yet. So maybe next time my ghostly pals)

But then, I remember, 2020, I watched Emirichu’s video about her Asian experience. And it help me feel emotional, because while my parents didn’t move form Puerto Rico to America (that goes to my grandma), like Emily, I had this big disconnect from my Puerto Rican roots and often feel envious when others spoke better Spanish than me. And not only that, I did at some point and like mention I felt embarrassed so I convinced myself say “oh I can never like tostones” or “I’m definitely going to feel more of an outside if I ever visit Puerto Rico one day” or even “I might as well not try, it already too late”. But, the video let me know I wasn’t alone. And even seeing comments under the video, it help me feel like I wasn’t the only one with this identity crisis. But one thing that I feel is upmost important that I toke from the video, “you’re still Latine/Latinx/any other race no matter if you can or can’t speak Spanish or any native language.” And man, I wish I heard that a lot during my childhood rather than feeling embarrassed, ashamed or feel out of place. But I’m happy I found this video, and I’m glad the video found me and others like me.

So overtime, I began to slowly become appreciative of my roots. I think what was maybe the final push was Lin Manuel Miranda’s Broadway turn movie “In the heights”, now I love the Broadway, so when watching the movie, I couldn’t help but love it even more, because I appreciate how the movie celebrate all walks of Latine/Latinx/Hispanic cultures from Dominican, Cuban, Chilean, Mexican, Colombian, Puerto Rican and more. How this community is so vast and vibrant of overall, proud of their heritage. So I began to slowly being loving my heritage, and for healing, whenever I make an oc, I make them Puerto Rican or headcanon an existing character as Puerto Rican, or learn fact about Puerto Rico to feel more connected (like funfact did you know Puerto Rico is also called Isla del Encanto? Isn’t that beautiful? 🥹) and even now I would ask my mom “hey what does *insert Spanish phrase* mean?” Granted, I will still get moment where I doubt or have imposter syndrome (or as my mom would sometimes say I am my worse critic). But I stop myself, and say “hey, you’re still Hispanic/Latine/Latinx.” Or “don’t worry, you’re still learning.” It’s still a process. And even now I still don’t know Spanish, like I guess to best describe it, I know what people can be saying or what they’re talking about depending on the context but I don’t know how to respond back. Nor write..or spell. But I still am learning as I go, my folks told me one of the best way is to listen to Spanish song and so I’ve been trying to do that or I’ll ask my mom “hey is this accurate?”. So I just want to tell the people who will read this or my Hispanic/Latine/Latinx ghost pals that, no matter if you can’t speak the language, like certain food from your roots, or are feeling the same way I felt, it’s okay, your still valid and you’re still Hispanic/Latine/Latinx. I can’t say it going to be easy, because I’ll be a hypocrite if I did, but, I can say, it worth it each step of the way. And I wish you luck amigos.

But, thanks for taking the time to read this, I know this isn’t my usually good omen content and I’m sorry if I wasn’t super active for this heritage month. I’ll try better next time. But until then, hope your having your last day of Hispanic/Latine/Latinx heritage month! what is it I can do to be more participant for next time? Let me know! Or if you have any question about this post or anything, my inbox is open ask away my fellow ghost ^v^ And always, especially with it still being all hallow’s Eve, stay spooky my pals!

#happy hispanic heritage month #hispanics #latine heritage month #latine tag #latinx #Latine #puerto rico #puerto rican #puerto rico 🇵🇷 #🇵🇷

[harrisonarchive]

Screenshot from the “This Song” music video.

“Dark Horse will be run pretty tightly. I don’t want to be a Kinney or an RCA or anything like that — I won’t have thousands of artists. In one way it’s similar to the idea behind Apple, in that most artists we’ve got at the moment have come into my life without me looking for them. That’s the funny thing. The friendship thing comes into it quite strongly for me — and it works both ways round. For instance, Jim Keltner didn’t want to tell me about his band because he didn’t like the idea of using his friendship to get his band a gig, so I got to sign Keltner’s band from meeting the piano player, which is slightly crazy when you consider the friendship between Keltner and me and the fact that all those albums ago I was putting ‘Jim Keltner fan club‘ on my album sleeves. And he’s hesitant about coming to see me for a gig!” - George Harrison, Melody Maker, September 6, 1975

“He loved to make you happy, to see your expression when he showed you stuff that meant something to him, like walking in the garden and showing you a plant of which he knew the Latin name. Even in the garden, he was such an artist. It was so pretty, and he liked to share these things. He was so easy to be around, and he had this mischievous glint in his eye yet never harmful. Such a sense of humor. Once when Ringo, George and I were sitting in his garden, George said, ‘Let’s all grow old together and live in a great big house.’ I felt that’s what would happen. To wake up at Friar Park to a cup of tea and a slice of lemon cake, to play with George, was magic.” - Jim Keltner, Mojo, November 2014

“It [the Concert for George] was a very powerful experience for all of us who were involved, because we all loved George so much. George was the best kind of friend you could have in this world. He was a guy who loved being with his friends, and he loved turning his friends on to different things. I learned so much from George, he was like the big brother who’s successful and goes into the world first, then takes his family under his wing and shows them all the things he’s seen. He taught me so many things, he was a wonderful teacher, and one of the most beautiful human beings. He just had the softest, gentlest ways about him. He could be angry, and talk about something in anger, and still seem to be so amazingly calm about it. There was a great calmness about him. George spoke low and slow, never loud and abusive, which from everything I’ve read is the best way to communicate. And that’s the way George was, he was the epitome of that. And he was one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. That’s what was so heartbreaking that he had to get out of here so soon, because I really looked forward to growing old with George. But that’s not the way the world works.” - Jim Keltner, The Dawn of Indian Music in the West (2006) (x)

#Jim Keltner #George Harrison #quote #quotes by George #quotes about George #Dark Horse Records #George and Jim Keltner #long read #screenshots #can you queue it

[lieutenantselnia]

One of my favourite 2D Doof scenes just because I like listening to him (or actually both Doofs) rambling over stuff, here in the German version! <3

A few words on this; when I imagine scenarios with him in my head I'm actually never quite sure if I imagine him talking in German or English, in my mind it just kind of all blurs together since I'm so used to using both languages in my everyday life at this point. However, I think for the most part I imagine him with the sound of his German voice and his pronunciation, probably also because I'm more used to it (for PnF I always kinda preferred the German dub, I don't know why exactly, it really can't be nostalgia since I didn't watch it as a kid, but maybe just for the childhood show vibes). I like the original as well though (and sometimes kind of mix them up in my mind), I feel like Dan voiced the two Doofs with a bit more nuance, making 2D Doof speak a bit slower and maybe a tiny little bit deeper, to give him a bit more of an intimidating aura.

Another detail about his accent that might be interesting especially for non German speakers: In the original, Heinz' home country Drusselstein is a parody mostly on Germany/German-speaking countries, and on a few occasions, characters are heard speaking some German words. Doofenshmirtz himself is supposed to have a sort-of German accent as well. In the German dub, this was mostly replaced with Russian, for example that once scene where little Heinz is dressed as a lawn gnome and his father yells at him "Bewegen Sie nicht!", which is a grammatically incorrect way of saying "Don't move!" (correct ways would for example be "Beweg dich nicht!" or "Nicht bewegen!"), while in the German dub he yells in Russian "Не шевелиться!" - in latin letters something like "Nje shevelitsja!" - (which I believe is also grammatically incorrect lol).

Doof's accent seems also inspired by what the (stereo-)typical Russian (or generally Slavic) accent sounds to German people. However it doesn't lean very strongly into it, the most notable thing is that he rolls his Rs quite a bit stronger than it's common for German speakers, otherwise he speaks pretty much standard German. For example his pronunciation of the "ch" sound isn't really emphasised at all, which often tends to be associated with a Russian accent.

Also another small note about accents in general, I don't know how common it still is nowadays for people to think that German speakers all speak with a strongly rolled R, but we actually don't. Of course it may depend on the region or specific dialects, some people also just happen to naturally speak with a more rolled R due to their individual mouth/throat anatomy, but in the standard way of speaking in both Germany and Austria at least, it's not really a thing. We roll our R differently than English speakers, but it's also not that very "full" rolled R that you may hear in languages like Spanish. I myself, despite being Austrian and growing up speaking the Austrian variant of German, am physically struggling to roll my Rs because my tongue frenulum is literally too short to do it properly. The R pronunciation was always my biggest challenge in my Spanish and Russian classes (luckily my teachers weren't strict with it as long as you tried). But yeah, I just wanted to clarify that Doofenshmirtz' way of speaking isn't what the average German speaker would sound like, also I just find languages a fascinating topic to ramble about :D

#not sure if this makes a lot of sense since this is just me rambling at 5am but yeah :D #I want everyone to experience Heinz German voice too lol #I think he has something endearing about him💕 #also languages and dialects and such are so interesting to talk about #f/o: 🚂 #f/o appreciation #2nd dimension doofenshmirtz #2d doofenshmirtz #heinz doofenshmirtz #dr doofenshmirtz #phineas and ferb #pnf #across the second dimension #at2d #video #selniasoriginal

[maochira]

Ayo Hi Mao🖐️

Love you writings they're cool and amazing.

but recently I have had my problems with my Latin class (literally passed with a 4 which used to be a 5)

What do you think about having Latin with Ness and Kaiser. Kaiser looks like that one guy who barely passes Latin. Ness might have chosen French but he'd rather choose Latin because Kaiser had chosen it

Kaiser is probably also that one guy to forget to do his homework and then asks if he can copy it he'll also ask if he can copy the answers from the exam because he didn't study.

thanks I appreciate you for reading this

have a good day/night

Byeeee

OMG I used to have Latin class and I miss it a lot!! I love Latin sm and it was one of my favourite and best subjects 😭 due to my mental health when I was 15 I had to switch to another school that didn't have Latin but it's forever stuck with me and my OC lore hnngg

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, reader is friends with Kaiser and Ness, for context: at some German schools you have to choose between Latin and French when you start 6th Grade!

-Ness definitely only chose Latin because of Kaiser. He planned to take French, but as soon as Kaiser mentioned taking Latin, Ness changed his opinion

-it wasn't only because of Kaiser, it was also because you mentioned choosing Latin a bit earlier and Ness just didn't want to sit all alone during French class

-you study together all the time. Either during breaks or you meet up at Kaiser's place after school

-in the beginning, all three of you were doing very well. But as soon as 7th Grade starts, Kaiser loses track for a bit and suddenly he's behind on grammar and vocabulary

-Kaiser end up becoming SO BAD at Latin. He always acts as if he's still really good at it, but his vocabulary tests show otherwise

-also, he never does his homework on his own. Even when you do it together, he just waits for you and Ness to finish so he can copy it

-but!! Kaiser still likes learning about the history of the Romans a lot!!! That's something he's definitely better at than you and Ness, so at least he gets his grades up with that

-after seeing what the French students learn, Ness is so happy he chose Latin. Why are half of the letters in French words not said out loud? How is that word even pronounced?

-you always sit in the first row together because Kaiser wants it that way. He's definitely some kind of teacher's pet so he can get his grades better despite his awful results on tests and exams

-really, if it weren't for you and Ness studying with him, he'd definitely fail the class and lose track of everything. Kaiser refuses to acknowledge that, though

-although, at some point Kaiser manages to catch up on Latin again and returns to being as good as he was in the beginning! He was on the verge of failing, so you and Ness had to convince him to put more effort into studying and refused to let him copy your homework so Kaiser ended up doing that himself (although, Ness was close to showing him sometimes, but you held him back from it)

#bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #blue lock kaiser #bllk kaiser #blue lock ness #bllk nss #michael kaiser #alexis ness #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness x you

[abbofff]

Chapter Three

masterlist

  When I opened the apartment door on the top floor, all I did was leave my backpack at the entrance, took a shower and changed into something more comfortable. Then I decided to go up to the roof to get some air. My mom won't be home for a couple of hours and I needed to think.

  When I opened the roof door it was like all my problems were blown away by the wind, but only for a moment.

  I made a small pillow out of my jacket and lay on the floor looking at the sky. I'm nervous about having to face my mother.

  I really want to be like her when I grow up. She is strong, kind, intelligent and loved wherever she goes. And I? Her only daughter? I feel like I was losing my mind more and more.

  I know my mother loves me and I love her too. But I also know that I'm the worst part of her life. A reminder of a past lover that went away, a troubled kid. A special kid, as adults says, that got thrown out of school for the 5th time in a row.

  I wonder if she was going to consider the idea of ​​homeschool again. Although I don't think that any teacher would accept me. I did 1st grade at home, and I made my teachers cry.

  I don't know how much time I spent daydreaming until a hear the door open. I got up from the surprise, and I looked back to see my mom.

  She was still wearing her black suit with her blonde hair pushed back held by a brooch. She looked very tired.

  My mom works as a criminal lawyer. She's worked for really bad people, but it's what she had to do to bring food to the table.

- Hi baby - she gave me a tired smile followed by a hug.

- Mom, Percy didn't push the girl and I couldn't just stand there and watch. I'm sorry, I was so close to make things right this year but--

- It's okay, I know. I'm so glad you are okay. - My heart felt tight in my chest. She wore a sad, almost nostalgic look, but her smile had not faded.

- Come, let's sit. - She comanded as she guided me to the ground.

  - Sally texted me what happened. She said that Percy saw something. - she told me. She looked at me, hoping that I would explain more.

  I know what I saw, what we did to defend ourselves. But I wasn't going to tell her. I didn't wanted to disappoint her any more that I already had. She couldn't know that I had gone completely mad.

  - Yeah, we fell down the stairs. We didn't get hurt, but he had that strange dream. - I looked into her eyes when I spoke.

  Then, she made a thoughtful face and turned forward.

  - How were things on Yancy? - she asked.

  - Better. We had an awesome Latin professor, Mr Brunner. He puts a lot of passion and emotion to his classes, you know? It helps with my attention deficit. Really learnt a lot about ancient Greece. I mean it's not helpfull, but still. And Percy and me even made a friend. -

  I stopped for a moment. I understand why Grover did what he did. He wasn't the best under pressure, and that's totally fine. But he didn't even tried to say sorry or even talk to us after. It still hurted.

- It was a nice year. - I ended.

- That's nice to hear, my dear. - She finally turned to see me and I smiled at her.

  Then, she had her gaze lost somewhere on the upcoming storm, but I only limited myself to look at my hands.

She spoke again after a while.

  - Your dad is calling. - She said when she finally looked at me.

  - What? - I ask.

  My head started spinning as to why he was just now trying to contact me.

  I stood up from the ground and my mother followed me.

  - Adara, listen to me. - She said while grabbing my face in her hands.

  I saw into her eyes, there were tears threatening to come out.

  - Why does he feel he has the right to show up now? He left. It was his choice. He had his chances. I don't want anything to do with him, mom. -

  - He wants you to go to a camp in Long Island. It's for the best. - She stated.

  That man had never been interested in me or my mother, as far as I knew, he had left while my mother was pregnant. And now he gets to decide what's best for me?

  - Best for who? - I regretted asking that as soon as it left my mouth. I don't want to know the answer.

  - Mom, I know Im broken, but im getting better, i swear. Please, I don't wanna go, i will be good. Don't get rid of me now. Just one more chance, please. I'll make it better. -

  I looked at her, and there was pain mixed in the green. I was trying not to cry because maybe if I didn't, then she would trust me.

  - Ada, since I carried you in my womb there has not been a day in which I have not loved you or you have not made me feel proud. I will always be there with you. I raised you, you carry my last name. You have become a loving and selfless person, and you grow stronger everyday. -

  Rain started to fall.

  She looked at the sky with a scared look, then closed her eyes for a moment, and I grabbed her hands in mine. She opened her eyes to look at me.

  - But there are things, far beyond my control, that I can not protect you from. - She said softly, like it was a secret.

I felt the tears leave my eyes as now they were falling into my cheeks. My breathing accelerated. The day I always feared had arrived.

- You'll understand soon enough. But you need to get going. -

  I could never say no to mom. Not when she was so determined to let me go. Not when I knew she could allow herself a better life. Not when it was for the best.

  - Ok. - I said in a whisper.

  She grabbed my hand and we went back in the apartment.

  I took one last look at my home and took a deep breath. I tried to tattoo in my memory the smell of coconut from the diffuser, the warmth of the blankets that were next to the sofa, the breeze that ran on the balcony.

  It would be a long time before I returned here.  I would spend the summer on that camp and then straight to the next boarding school Mom finds.

  I heard a loud thunder strike somewhere near, and then mom began searching frantically in the drawers of the TV table. Then she walked up to me with a small cloth bag and judging by the sound, it seems to have coins inside.

I tried to search her eyes. I tried to look for some kind of doubt or regret. Anything that could mean she'd change her mind. But there was only determination. Sadness too, yes. But that was not enough.

  - Come on, a driver from the camp came to pick you up. - she said while nodding in assurance.

  I grabbed my backpack that was on the couch. Fortunately, I hadn't had a chance to unpack.

  We went down the elevator to the lobby. The trip is short but it felt eternal. I felt like my heart had been pierced and was slowly becoming empty. I didn't feel any strength in my legs, the air seemed to refuse to enter my lungs and I knew that if I took my eyes off the ceiling, the tears would continue to fall.

  The elevator doors opened again and mom gently guided me by the hand to the entrance of the building. Where I saw a delivery van that had the logo of a strawberry with words on the side waiting outside.  I couldn't read what was written, but I could make out the word 'farm'

  I was going to go to a farm? With animals and plants? I remembered the cactus that mom had given me for my bedroom in Yancy. It died. Don't ask me how.

  My mom lifted up the bag for me to take it.

  - Your father knows him. Just give him the bag when you get there. - She said.

  My heart was empty, crumbling apart by those words. She was getting rid of me.

  - Mom, I don't have a good feeling about this. Could you take me to the camp instead? - I pleaded.

My mom grabbed my face again and looked right trought me. Her green eyes focused on my blue ones. Her gaze filled with love was accompanied by a sad smile.

  - Oh my baby girl, you are growing up so fast. I can't protect you of the world anymore. So I need you to promise it to me, Adara Williams,  you will always remember who you truly are inside. -

  - I promise. - I said confidently.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She grabbed the hair clip that was on her hair and placed it in my hand.

  The hair clip was green with a little blue gem shaped like a tear. It was similar to my necklace.

  - You'll need it. - she said.

  She is right, if a was going to a farm I would need to have my hair up all the time.

  I unclasped my necklace and placed it on my mom's hand.

  - I'll come back for it. - I said with a smile.

She hugged me tightly, and so did I.

  - See you mom. I love you. - I said smiling at her.

  - I love you too, sweety. Take care. - She responded. She kissed my forehead very gently, as if I would break if she was too rough.

  When I got in the van I saw a man who looked like a typical blonde surfer, except there was something weird in him. Maybe it was that he was wearing a strange peacock like suit or the way he gave me a withering look and stayed silent when I asked his name.

  That let me wondering, were peacocks a trend now?

  I saw my mom waving goodbye in tears when the van engine turned on, and I waved back with a smile.

  The sound of rain and thunder filled my senses. Storms always helped me relax. But I was still breathing heavy as the unnamed man drives through the city. There was pressure building in my chest. A terrible feeling. Something dangerous was about to come.

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue x you #dior goodjohn #clarisse la rue #percy jackson #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fic #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue imagine #clarisse la rue x fem!oc!reader

[islandsaoirse]

I think something a lot of evangelizing organizations have largely forgotten is that people ABSOLUTELY want to talk doctrine and specific belief. I’ve come across way too many people saying they’ll pray for me it “let me hear your worries”. I’m sorry but you’re not engaging with me genuinely are ya!

A lot of these organizations are run at the top by very, frankly intellectually lazy people who impart a couple of scripts upon the kids and then do a trip to another country. They teach them to avoid talking about their religion (even though they’ll pray and do their acts upon you) because it is NOT a theological exchange ever! It’s a show of wealth and preying upon someone who has never had that shoulder. Because the religion can come later once we’ve emotionally hooked you, and once they’ve hooked you, the beliefs can be…anything really.

I live in a town that has dozens of missions every year, Americans in khakis saving us from poverty, whatever specific Christian denomination giving out booklets in front of the Catholic Church and town center. I’ve mentioned it before, shit I’ve walked around town and noted where the main guy is whose sending the kids to do the preaching and said hi. As soon as I mention I studied theology, their interest in me wanes. I have been saved countless times and my town is still poor and the building they say they will reform into a church is still abandoned and nothing fucking changes. These missions that are really a business to get parents to overpay for a road trip for their kids.

I went on a mission to Peru, 2k per person, we where shown by our teachers how poor and sad the Peruvian is and how great us, the intellectual puertorican has it and how godless their country is compared to ours. The more I think about religious missions between our Latin countries the more sick I feel. It’s so, racist, classist, xenophobic. How in the hell is the region known for catholicism somehow godless. We where given a religion from an ocean away. We are so far from God and so close to our oppressor.

[kiefbowl]

so happy you're changing careers, i always hoped you'd be able to do something more exciting :) i admire how these things don't seem to intimidate you, because to me the job market is terrifying lol

if you don't mind me asking what did you go to school for, and would you have picked something different nowadays?

Film and Video, and maybe I would have. I think my time at college was not well mentored, a realization I had throughout college as I met more people who had parents, teachers, etc. who helped prep them for their time in college (for better or for worse) and as the vision of what I was "supposed" to be doing in college came into clearer focus. When you're six months from graduating, kind of terrifying if I'll be real! But I'm 1000% positive my story is not unique. If I had been better prepared to be a student trying to gain experience to enter the job market, I would have probably studied something else OR I would have used my time better in my degree to actually prepare for that career. I probably could have been happy doing video things, it's just by the time I was close to graduating, the idea of hustling when I never really hustled before terrified me out of trying. In retrospect, I probably could have done it with more support and, as I said, mentorship. There's also so little of the world you know, that sometimes the things you learn you could be doing, it's the eleventh hour in your second semester senior elective. How was I supposed to know people could study classics and launch that into a career of teaching or museum curation if I'm just learning about it now studying greek and latin roots in my etymology class for funsies?

I think we send kids off to college much much much too soon. I wish we had a culture, infrastructure to allow under 25 year olds to do odd jobs while building their social circle and prioritizing partying, traveling, having fun. In my dream world, a 19 year old could work part time as a barista, pay for an apartment with a roomie, spend time doing whatever weird theater/art/music career they think they want, have time to get into politics at a local level, and start putting money away for retirement, and just doing fuck all so that they can think about what they want to do and experience some real life decisions. They can learn "oooh I like customer service but I hate retail" or "oooooh music is something I want to do as a hobby, and playing shows sucks assssss" or "oooooh this internship at my mom's work isn't so bad, I'm not afraid of an office" or "ooooooh this intership at my mom's office sucks asssssss and I wonder what life on a boat is like" or w/e.

Then when you understand the value of money a little better, have a clearer idea of how you want to spend your life, you can go to college if it suits you.

[lone-rhapsodist]

So basically my bosses have just killed Latin as a subject at my school. They have decided that any students wanting to do Latin at GCSE cannot do it alongside a Modern Foreign Language: either they do Latin or they do a Modern Foreign Language; they cannot do both. In this scenario, most students will likely choose a Modern Foreign Language over Latin, because of course, while Latin is great, it is just not as directly useful as a Modern Foreing Language. Even I cannot argue with that logic, and I'm the only Latin teacher at the school!

So, what this means for the subject is that hardly any students will choose Latin for GCSE for next year -- we'll be lucky if we get 5 students or so. It also means that, with such small classes, eventually there will not be enough students to do the subject at A Level either. And so, slowly but surely, the subject will die. Or rather, it will remain so small as to be almost irrelevant -- a quirky thing to do for about 60 students at KS3, and 5 or so at KS4.

When I got the news, I was so angry and disappointed, I cried for a good 20 minutes. For the past two and a half years, I have been working so hard to develop our Latin curriculum, to improve our subject offer, and in general to raise the profile of Latin as a subject at our school. And now, in one swift move, all my hard work has been destroyed... All my hopes to develop out subject further, get regular A Levels running, even become a proper department, with another colleague in it, someone to share my work with... All that, it's gone. And I cannot help but ask myself: what's the point?

What's the point of being in charge of a subject, if you cannot develop it? What's the point of doing this job, if you cannot change things for the better? I know I am naive. I know I'm too ambitious. I know that I ask too much -- I know I know I KNOW!! But I do not have it in me to pretend that this is just fine. I did not decide to stay at this school, after a very difficult first year, to just shut up and do my job and not care. I decide to stay because I saw the potential to develop things further, to make things better, and I thought that my bosses saw it too. But now I realise that my bosses don't care about helping Latin grow and thrive. They're just happy to have it, to show it around like a "fiore all'occhiello" -- like a boutonnière, a buttonhole -- like a beautiful flower to show everyone when they're around, and then throw it away when they're gone.

If my bosses want to keep Latin as a small subject, that is fine, they can do it. But one thing is sure: I will not be there to see it happen. With a broken heart, because I love the students, and they deserve better, but I do not have it in me to just sit there and accept this. I cannot accept the bitterswitness of teaching Latin at GCSE to only a handful of students, whom I must thank for their commitment to the subject, but I must also pity, because in order to choose that subject, they were forced to give up on a Modern Foreign Language, which is just not fair. I cannot accept that, if we ever get a student who will want to do the subject at A Level, I will have to ask my bosses whether they are a student "worth keeping" for our Sixth Form in order to see if we can offer them that subject (I swear to God, this is an actual conversation I have had to have with them -- their words, not mine). And finally, and perhaps most importantly, I can just no longer accept to be commuting for two and a half hours every day for a job where all my hard work is building towards nothing, where I keep proposing things to develop and improve our subject, only for it to be killed in the most careless and ruthless of ways.

So, yeah. There you have it. I will remain until the end of the year to tidy things and wrap things up properly, but from this moment, I will start looking for jobs. I don't care if it's an independent school rather than a state one, though I would prefer the latter if possible. And I do not mind if it's just a regular teacher job; I have had enough of being in charge, though I could do it again if it were the right opportunity. I really just want the next job to be close home, and not too demanding, and if they could just not use the CLC to teach Latin at GCSE, that would be great. But we'll see. I already have a job eyed up. I will be prepare an application between tonight and Monday. Wish me luck.

#lone-rhapsodist #i am so sad but i must do what is right #sorry for all the frustration #thank you for your understanding and support #personal #work #school #teacher #teaching #education #jobs #latin

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 9 - Adult Education

IN THIS CHAPTER: A collection of mugs, a Latin-English dictionary, and Dottie has an epiphany [3.8k]

WARNINGS: none! it's my birthday so you get fluff today lol

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

So you got a little education And a lot of dedication But you want a little night school

Thursday, May 1st - 1986

Dottie wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but when Eddie walked into the library no earlier than fifteen minutes late into their shared Thursday free period, the paper he proudly slammed onto the table in front of her hadn’t been on her “Eddie Munson’s Shit Excuses For Arriving Late” list. As it turns out, he had taken the initiative to seek out his teachers to request a complete list of every assignment he owed and even negotiate with them partial credit for delivering them before their respective final exams.

“So it’s only 50% for these two no matter what, but in Latin it’s 75% if I get more than a C+ in the final,” he was explaining, the two of them sitting at a table near the back where it was less crowded.

“Okay… okay, we can totally work with this. This is great, Eddie,” she smiled up at him and he could have sworn her eyes shone brighter than the sun. “Now we just need to make a schedule, see how many items we need to knock off every day before finals week.”

She ripped out a page from her notebook and drew a calendar, writing down “May” in bright red marker at the top and filling in the squares with her favorite black pen. Eddie noticed she was making space for Hellfire, his band activities (both practice days and their regular gig at The Hideout), and had even logged May 15th, his birthday, as a day off. She was writing down her deadlines too, the page turning into a combined schedule for both of them right in front of his eyes. Her gesture felt oddly domestic, like she was making space for him in every aspect of her life, building a routine that was not only hers or his, but theirs. It made his insides all warm and gooey.

“I think I got most of it down, but we can shift things around if we need to. If we can do double time this first week so we can have a lighter load by the third week, that’d be ideal. I was thinking we could do Wednesdays at Gareth’s with everyone else, and then days of the week at yours and weekends after lunch at mine.”

“You wanna come over to my place?” he looked at her like she had grown two heads overnight.

“...Is that an issue?”

“Yes? No! I mean…,” he scratched behind his ear. “Darling, I live in a trailer park.”

“You’ve mentioned that before, yes.”

“And you’re not… freaked out?”

“Am I supposed to be?”

It was like a narrowed eyes and furrowed brows competition had unofficially begun at their table. Eddie could not understand how she didn’t care about the fact that she’d have to go to his trailer every single day to essentially supervise him while he did his homework. He was terrified of what she’d say if she saw the state of his home, the ever present mess he and his Uncle lived in, the fact that his room consistently smelled like weed and their bathroom had moisture stains on the ceiling. He wasn’t ashamed of who he was, he knew there wasn’t anything wrong with his living arrangements, but there was a part of him that felt too vulnerable to show her the side everyone loved to laugh at since middle school: words filled with venom like “trailer park trash” and jabs at the absence of his parents still fresh in his mind. He was terrified of showing her the Eddie he was when his guard wasn’t up at all times. Terrified she wouldn’t like the complete version of himself, all raw and weak and endlessly flawed.

Dottie, on the other hand, was confused as to why he thought she’d have a problem with him living in a trailer. She knew he’d had the Hellfire boys over at various points; one time Donny asked if he had seen his lighter around, thinking he might have left it behind in Eddie’s kitchen. Eddie brought it to school for him the next day, complaining about how he had had to crawl behind the fridge to retrieve it. His unusual reaction couldn’t about his Uncle, not when he had mentioned several times that Wayne Munson worked graveyard shifts and Eddie had dinner alone almost every day because his Uncle ate “way too fucking early” for him to join the older man, choosing to postpone his last meal of the day until after the sun had gone down. She didn’t know what she’d done to make him believe that she had an issue with anything that he was; it hurt her to think that he was afraid of her in any sense of the word.

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble with your Dad,” he said, grasping at straws. “He’s probably not gonna like it when you tell him you’re coming over every single day.”

“I already told him I’d help you out until graduation and he’s more than okay with it,” she leaned closer to him, dropping her voice to a murmur so other students couldn’t hear her. “He’s not afraid of your little Satanic act, dumbass, he knows you’re a nerd.”

“Yeah, but,” he wrung his hands under the table. “This is Hawkins. People will talk, y’know.”

“Eddie, people have to be really blind to not have noticed that we hang out all the time by now. We have lunch together every day. You drive me home when it rains,” Dottie grabbed one of his hands, holding it between hers on her lap. “I don’t care about stupid rumors, and I promise you my Dad doesn’t either. You’re one of my best friends, he’s not gonna come kick your teeth in because we’re reading Shakespeare in your trailer.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, trying to hide the inner turmoil he was feeling at her words. “I fucking hate Shakespeare.”

“If you talk shit about my fave bard again, I’m gonna be the one to kick your teeth in,” Dottie let go of his hand and immediately wanted to grab it again. “Now pick a subject and get started.” From the corner of his eye, Eddie watched her work on a set of notes titled Safety and Sanitation Procedures and Guidelines. As much as he wanted to stare at her all day (and draw on her notes to remind her constantly that he’d been there), he tore his sight away from her face and focused really hard on getting through as many Latin worksheets as he could for the remainder of his free period, putting to good use the dictionary that she fished out for him while she was waiting for him to show up. Dottie had to keep herself from lovingly sighing every time she caught him writing down a new word he had found interesting in the notebook he used to jot down his ideas for his latest D&D campaigns. It was so quintessentially Eddie that she wondered for a brief moment if she was going to be able to survive being stuck like velcro to him until finals week. Only time will tell, she thought dramatically, letting the six major workplace accidents detailed in her open textbook distract her from the boy sitting next to her.

The rest of the day had gone about as normal as any other Thursday, except for the fact that instead of taking the bus home with Gareth (who kept complaining about the fact that he still had to take Drivers Ed classes for a few more weeks), Dottie was getting into Eddie’s van to go pick up snacks for their first proper study session. To say that she was nervous was quite frankly the understatement of the century, but as soon as she clicked the very frayed seat belt on and he punched an Iron Maiden tape into the deck, she felt herself relax into the seat. Nothing had to change just because they were going to study alone in his trailer instead of doing it in Gareth’s living room surrounded by their friends. They had been alone multiple times by now; whenever he drove her home after dropping Gareth off first, while they waited for Dustin to arrive for Hellfire, that one time they’d gone to the Palace Arcade on a Saturday afternoon before a movie night with the rest of their friends in Jeff’s basement. Everything is gonna be okay, she realized, as she watched him heavily ponder on what kind of chips he wanted to buy at the gas station. He settled on a big bag of nacho cheese Doritos.

Once snacks had been acquired, they made their way towards the Forest Hills trailer park in relative silence, Eddie drumming on the steering wheel as he drove. When he parked, the music cut off as he killed the engine and he looked at his front door in mild panic. Dottie made a move to grab her backpack from the floor, unbuckling the seat belt, but he launched himself across her to stop her from opening the van door.

“Uh, Ed-”

“I forgot to tell my Uncle you were coming,” he said, his eyes wide.

“Can you- shit, just wait here for a second, okay? Let me go in first.”

“God, Eddie,” she laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Look, darling, I don’t think you wanna see dear Uncle Wayne with no shirt on. Or no pants.”

“Good call,” she patted his arm, still caging her to the seat. “I’ll wait here then.”

He nodded, eyes drifting to her hand on top of his jacket sleeve and hurried to pull back and go inside, haphazardly carrying the bag of snacks, his metal lunchbox and backpack, shutting the door behind him with his foot. Dottie giggled, waiting patiently for him to give her the signal to go in. He’s so cute, she thought to herself in the privacy of his van. That was allowed, right? To think that one’s friends were cute, or nice, or pretty…

A few minutes later, Eddie emerged from the trailer, waving at her with a grin on his face. She jumped off her seat, careful to not slam the van door on her way out, and hiked her brown corduroy backpack up her shoulders. Ever the gentleman, Eddie offered a hand to help her climb the steps and bowed when she walked past him, making her roll her eyes at his antics. Soon enough, she was inside his trailer for the first time in her life, curiously looking around while he nervously watched her take in the sights.

“Sorry it’s such a mess, I wasn’t really expecting anyone to come over today,” he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ve been in Jeff’s basement, this is more than okay,” Dottie reassured him, trying to make him feel less nervous. “I like the mugs!”

“Thanks, those are mine,” Wayne Munson came out of the bathroom, looking very unbothered by the fact that his nephew had yelled at him to get some jeans on before she saw him in his ratty boxers.

“Oh, hi! It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Munson,” she smiled at the older man walking down the hall towards them. “I’m Dorothy.”

“You can call me Wayne, kid, I know who you are” the man laughed, stepping into the living area with a twinkle in his eyes. “Eddie talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” Dottie asked, feeling self conscious all of the sudden.

“Only good things, I promise,” Eddie said, hoping that he didn’t sound like a fucking lovestricken idiot. “Uh, Dot’s gonna be around a lot this month, so…”

“I’m helping Eddie with his homework so we can all graduate together. Hellfire Class of ‘86,” she explained. “I hope that’s not a bother, we can go to the library if you’d prefer.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m never here anyways. Just glad to see Eddie has good friends.”

“Well, he’s a good friend to us too,” she said, looking at the boy who was now bright red standing next to her.

“We should- we should get started, right? So you can be home for dinner. D-d’you wanna go to my room? Or, uh, there’s a table outside too, I guess.”

“Do you have a desk in your room?”

“Yeah, but you really don’t wanna go in there,” he chuckled breathlessly. What’s happening to me?

“Okay, well, let’s sit outside before it gets colder then. We got snacks, Mr. Mun-” Dottie stopped herself and giggled when he raised his eyebrow. “Wayne. Sorry. We got snacks if you’d like some, Mr. Wayne.”

“That’s alright, kid, I had a late lunch. Thanks,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth at the nickname.

Wayne walked over to the couch where he had been sitting before Eddie had disturbed his peace and sat back down with his coffee mug in hand, focusing on the small TV in front of him. Wordlessly, Eddie began grabbing snacks out of the gas station bag and shoving them into Dottie’s hands, hurrying her towards the exit. Having a very amusing conversation solely with their eyes, she could hardly contain her chuckles once he started pushing her with his hands on the small of her back, his Uncle pretending not to notice that his nephew was looking like a lovesick puppy around this clean cut girl to preserve his dignity. He would have never guessed this turn of events having seen the kind of magazines Eddie had hidden underneath his bed throughout his adolescence.

Finally, they sat at a shaded picnic table and got to work. Dottie busied herself with her AP Spanish homework she had been neglecting for a week and was due the next day, and Eddie continued working steadily through the Latin worksheets he had started earlier in the library. She’d had the foresight to check out the dictionary for him and he was endlessly grateful because he would have actually bashed his head on the side of his trailer without it.

“I like your Uncle,” Dottie said, not looking up from her folder. “He seems nice.”

“He is,” Eddie marked an answer in his multiple choice sheet. “He’s kind of the only family I have left so…”

“I’m glad you have him,” she smiled. “And his cool mugs.”

“What’s it with you and my Uncle’s mugs?”

“I like people that collect weird things, I think it’s fun. And also mugs are the superior liquid container.”

“Mugs? Seriously?”

“Yeah. Everything tastes better in a mug.”

“Sure. Fuck glasses,” he teased.

“Fuck glasses,” she concluded, grabbing a highlighter from her pencil case.

They worked in companionable silence, Eddie only disturbing the quiet to read out loud random words he found in the dictionary and thought were funny. He cataloged her reactions to them; some words made a little chuckle escape from her lips, for others she’d just roll her eyes at him. His favorite, by far, was when he got her to snort loudly as he explained that vagina meant “sheath” in Latin. (“You wish,” she’d said, and he had had to hide his growing blush in the pages of his notebook.) The sun was setting later and later these days, so when Wayne popped his head out of the door and asked them if they wanted to join him for dinner, it came as a complete surprise that they had been doing homework for almost three full hours without taking any breaks.

“I’d love to stay, but I should get home before it gets dark or my Dad will worry,” Dottie said, smiling at the older man. “Maybe some other time?”

“Sure, door’s always open for ya,” he smiled back. He had been listening to their conversations on and off all afternoon through an open window and was pleased to know that she could hold her own against her nephew when he became restless.

“I’ll hold you to that then,” she turned to Eddie when his Uncle disappeared inside the trailer again. “Let’s check off what we did today and you’re free until tomorrow after Hellfire, okay?”

“Y’know, I was thinking…”

“Uh-oh,” she said while crossing out items from their shared To-Do List. “That’s not good.”

“Would you let me finish, woman?” he said, faking his anger. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to get pizza before we hit the books tomorrow. My treat. I’m always really hungry after Hellfire and you know I can’t think for shit when I’m hungry.”

“Pizza sounds great,” she zipped up her backpack. “Though I’m not sure we’ll get a lot done with everyone around but we can catch up over the weekend.”

“What d’you mean “everyone”?” Eddie was confused.

“Hellfire. Hellfire is everyone. Or did you mean just us seniors?”

“I meant us. As in only me and you.”

“Oh.”

Dottie looked at him for a beat, trying to gauge how serious he was from his expression. He looked sincere, perhaps even a little bit shy about having to clarify what he had meant. Friends totally went out together for pizza, right? It was completely normal behavior for two buddies to get food before a study session, wasn’t it? He’s not asking you out, girl, calm down, her brain supplied in order to get her thoughts in line before she embarrassed herself. Wasting a few more seconds by gathering her things and getting up from the bench, she schooled her expression into a calm smile and tilted her head nonchalantly.

“Well, the guys are not gonna like us ditching them, but I’m never gonna say no to pizza.”

“Great!” he pushed himself up and guided her to his van to take her home. “I’ll get started on those Biology flashcards tomorrow after getting some cheese in me, I promise.”

James knew something was different the moment Dottie sat down at the table after her shower, hair wet and fluffy pink pajamas on. She looked deep in thought, like she was struggling with internalizing a new concept, not even glancing at her father sitting across from her while she piled mashed potatoes on their plates. The radio was playing in the background, some Bryan Adams song she had never bothered learning the name of filling the room and providing a much needed distraction from the anxious butterflies flying around in her stomach. He waited patiently until she was halfway done with her plate before trying to bring his daughter back to the Land of the Talking.

“You okay there, honey?”

“Huh?” she looked up at him, eyes bleary. “Yeah… yeah, jus’ tired.”

“Too much studying?” James asked, trying to sound casual.

“A bit. Met Eddie’s uncle today.”

“Was he nice?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, pushing a meatball around her plate with her fork. “He invited me over for dinner sometime. He collects mugs. And hats.”

“Hats?”

“Like baseball caps. I like him. He’s quirky.”

“Seems like it. You’re gonna go over there tomorrow too?”

“Yeah. Actually, I…,” she readjusted herself in her seat. “Is it okay if I come home late tomorrow? We have Hellfire after school, and Eddie wants to get pizza before going back to his house so we’re probably gonna wrap up at, like, an ungodly hour.”

“How late are we talking about here?”

“Dunno, but you don’t have to pick me up. Eddie can bring me home when we’re done.”

“You’re still doing weekends here, right?” James got up and started clearing the table, Dottie following him into the kitchen.

“That’s the plan, yes. Weekdays at his, weekends here, Wednesdays at Gareth’s.”

“Okay. Just… make smart choices.”

“Jeez, Dad,” she closed the fridge door with her foot. “We’re just studying, it’s not like we’re… planning a heist or something.”

“Look, honey, I trust you, okay? But I’m the father of a teenage daughter whose entire friend group is teenage boys. And I was a teenage boy once too. I know what’s going on in their gross little minds, and it’s definitely not studying.”

“Ew! Don’t say that about my friends!”

Dottie leaned on the counter watching her dad rinse the dishes, the radio now playing Lionel Ritchie’s Say You, Say Me. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand what he meant, but she honestly, hand on her heart, didn’t think he had anything to worry about. It was normal that he was concerned, and they both knew he would never forbid his daughter from seeing her friends even if they were all boys and she was the only girl in their tight-knit group, but there was a small part of Dottie’s brain that felt strange knowing that he didn’t fully trust the intentions of the people that made Hawkins bearable for her. She feared that eventually the rumor mill would become too loud, and her dear dad would fall prey to the same kind of judgy attitudes that seemed to plague the small town when it came to her friends. About Eddie in particular, who had done nothing wrong to deserve such hatred from strangers except carry the Munson name.

“Dad?” she gnawed on her lower lip, nervously.

“Mhm?”

“I know that you’re thinking “boys will be boys” and all that, but… They are all good people. Eddie is good people. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he sighed, turning off the water and looking at her. “But I’m still gonna worry. He’s older than you, bit of a rebel, in a band. Has a bunch of tattoos and smokes. He’s every dad’s worst nightmare.”

“You do remember that two of his best friends are 15 year olds, right? He’s a harmless nerd.”

“Why do you think I still let you go to his house unsupervised?” he joked, going back to the dishes. “Just make good choices and we won’t have to talk about your boyfriend again, m’kay?”

“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Dottie shook her head as she left the kitchen, leaving him alone while he cackled to himself at his daughter’s discomfort. It occurred to her, once she was comfortable in her own bed about to turn her lights off, a copy of her and Eddie’s shared schedule pinned to her corkboard above her college acceptance letter, that she had never corrected her dad when he called him her boyfriend or even denied having a crush on him. Oh, he’s never gonna let me live that one down, she thought to herself. She clicked her bedside lamp off and turned around so she wouldn’t see her desk, fully intending on denying the accusations to anyone who asked, even to herself if she needed to, when her eyes found her new Hellfire shirt draped on the seat under the window with the rest of the clothes she had laid out to wear the next day. Fuck. I have a crush on Eddie Munson, was her last thought before she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, nacho cheese Doritos, puns with Latin words and the smell of Camel cigarettes mixed with cheap woodsy cologne making their way into her dreams.

taglist (ask box is open if you want me to add you!): @munsonology

#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #wayne munson #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

[cyborg-franky]

Ooooo could you possibly do headcanons of the one piece characters as college students? What type of students would they be, how would they be in class, what are their majors, etc? :D

Ooooh yes, I didn't go to college and UK college is very different from US so here I go.. I dunno if they do majors like this so I generalized them.

Marco

Always late to lessons.

Looks like he isn’t paying attention and is top of the class.

Very social.

He does biology, science, history, and geography.

Ace

Does all his work last minute.

Shows up late.

‘I don’t really need to be here, life teaches us more lessons man’

Here for a good time

Media studies

Thatch

On-time.

Is often teachers' fave.

Flirts too much in class.

Here for home ec, cooking, and business.

Izou

Just wanted to go to make sure his sister was okay.

Scary, teachers are scared of him so he gets away with like, alot.

Beauty, business, law

Deuce

Was made to go by his parents.

Is really unhappy being there.

Lets Ace bring him down.

Flunking biology but doing well in creative writing and literature.

Law

Wanted to get away from overly attached father figure.

Is always on time but looks like he’d rather smoke behind the bike sheds.

Biology, science, chemistry

Kid

Here to party bitches.

Drinks and good times.

Metal shop, engineering.

Killer

His best friend is going so…

On time, keeps hung-over Kid in check

Cooking, home ec, languages.

Sabo

Why not, use government money to fund himself.

Is late.

He Will cut a bitches breaks if they fail him.

Politics, law, psychology.

Vivi

Late to the game because she needed a gap year to find herself.

Always on time, always a goody goody.

World affairs, politics, law

Zoro

Only time he stepped foot on campus was he got lost.

Jokes aside.

Sport

Nami

Already has loads of money, and never has student fees.

Will ruin everyone who looks at her wrong.

Business, agriculture.

Robin

Is that one goth girl that everyone is in love with.

Flawless in class.

Social but people fear her for no reason.

History, creative writing, languages, Latin, literature.

Franky

People kinda think he’s lost.

WHAT’S UP MY DUDES, ARE WE LEARNING? Vibes

Metal work, engineering, travel.

Usopp

incoming nerdy art student who always has the paint-covered overalls.

Big nerdy but has cool friends so everyone knows and likes him.

Art, textiles, drama

Brook

Mature student

Here to vibe.

Music, history

Chopper

Gets carded all the time, why are you here child.

Is scared of everyone.

Does his best

Science, biology, human studies

Luffy

SABO AND ACE ARE DOING IT SO.

Is bad

Just crashes in everyone's dorms and eats everyone's food.

Not dumb just not into learning.

Sanji

“Someone told me I could get laid in college.”

Wishes he was a party boy.

Nerd

Home ec, cooking, drama

#marco one piece #marco the pheonix #fushichou marco #thatch #thatch op #masked deuce #portgas d ace #ace op #marco op #izou #izou op #sabo #soul king brook #nami #usopp #vivi nefertari #nico robin #one piece x reader #sanji #zoro #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #trafalgar law #cyborg franky

[miahasahardname]

OK SO I FOUND A CONCEPT I MADE UP LIKE AGES AGO FOR A TD HIGHSCHOOL AU BUT LIKE. i made it scottish because that’s the only school system i’m used to,,,

i would spend time in computing class typing away in a google doc (literally titled ‘total drama mental illness’) instead of doing any coding…

so yeah here’s some of my old total drama highschool au stuff (copied from my doc)! (warning: OLD (kinda))

subjects chosen for highschool au (some of these choices were kinda random)

biology - noah, courtney, lindsay, cody, bridgette, heather, tyler, leshawna, dj

chemistry - izzy, cody, noah, duncan, courtney, owen, beth, geoff, trent, katie, sadie, justin

physics - gwen, noah, courtney, harold, cody, eva

french - cody, lindsay, beth, courtney, trent

german - noah, eva, izzy, duncan

mandarin - heather, harold, courtney

spanish - courtney, owen, justin, katie, sadie, tyler, bridgette, geoff, gwen, leshawna, dj

latin - noah, courtney, beth

(ancient) greek - harold

drama - heather, owen, izzy, cody, harold, leshawna, katie, sadie, justin, lindsay

music - leshawna, harold, justin, trent, cody, bridgette, courtney

art - cody, gwen, izzy, bridgette, owen, beth, justin, lindsay

rmps (religious moral philosophical studies) - dj, harold, noah, courtney

mods - noah, courtney

history - harold, trent, eva, leshawna, bridgette, beth, courtney, gwen

computing - noah, harold

technology - cody, owen

pe - tyler, eva, geoff, bridgette, duncan

accounting - trent (forced into it)

business studies - courtney, trent (also forced into it), owen

geography - harold, eva, owen, bridgette, trent, beth, lindsay

noah and courtney’s languages were chosen because they already knew a lot about the language and they kinda wanted to show off.

beth and lindsay chose french because they always wanted to go to paris.

jo is in tyler and eva’s and advanced higher pe class even though she’s a year below and should be doing nat 5s.

cody chose art for gwen. he didn’t end up with her, however, because she took advanced higher and he only took higher. cody cried when he discovered this.

trent’s dad forced him to take accounting.

cody, trent, justin and harold formed the drama brothers when they were assigned to work on a project in music together in s3. they’re all in the same AH class.

all of gen 1 are in the same form class. chris is their form teacher.

noah, ellody, courtney and emma are all key members of the student council.

izzy has accidentally set fire to the entire school twice.

sanders from ridonculous race is the headmistress because i refuse to beleive that sanders and macarthur are the same age as gen characters and because she’s better fit for this than a police job.

blaineley is a drama teacher.

kitty is an s3 in this au, while gen 1 is in s5.

izzy and duncan are the two pupils with the most detentions and suspensions. miraculously, neither of them have ever been expelled.

the lunch tables are separated by form classes.

owen takes business because he thought it would help him in his future endeavours of making a cookie business.

(so i had to take away a few of the things i wrote due to general stupidity of them or i just didn’t agree with those things anymore. i also did a little ‘teacher’s opinions’ thing that i will share if people want it? (but i doubt that). uhhh yeah basically i turn everything into an au. might make a post about orphans au, i dunno)

#there is a lot here!! #thanks to one anon on a takes blog that reminded me this existed #wouldn’t be here without you #ANYWAYS LET’S TAG THIS BITCH #td beth #td noah #td lindsay #td cody #td owen #td harold #td trent #td justin #td katie #td sadie #td bridgette #td geoff #td dj #td jo #td tyler #td leshawna #td eva #td izzy #td heather #td duncan #td gwen #td courtney #LET’S ALL POINT AND LAUGH AT THE CHARACTERS WHO CHOSE ALL THE SCIENCES. NERDS! #(joke) #chris mclean #total drama

[moonshinemagpie]

Days 5 and 6 of learning Spanish:

I'm so glad I chose Spanish (I was also considering Arabic or Hebrew—I have relatives who speak all of these languages) because I just found out my aunt, who only speaks Spanish, is making a surprise trip to the US soon. I haven't seen her in ten years except through Facetime and I want to surprise her by not needing my cousins to interpret for us

Randomly met two cool ladies from Honduras who want to learn more English and could potentially be conversational partners (I can't practice Spanish with my family or neighbors until I get better because they just laugh at me lollll 😅)

The above book came in the mail today

Have also been listening to spanishpod101.com podcasts and finding them pretty useful

Listened to Coffee Break Spanish podcast and found them okay but a little less useful (language teachers: repeat yourself more than you think you need to when you have novice students!)

Am so far crazy impressed with the free Destinos videos. Will review in more detail later

Also enjoying the free Dreaming Spanish videos

And really loving FluentU, which shows you real native material videos in your target language and teaches you the vocabulary in them

Overall the abundance of high-quality, engaging materials for learning Spanish is so neat to see compared to the materials used for learning Japanese lolllll

VERY glad I opted to not go the DuoLingo route after seeing a YouTube video of a woman with a 300-day DuoLingo Spanish streak, and literally all she was able to do was translate simple, boring sentences from English into Spanish. Like it doesn't seem like DuoLingo even tries to teach you to be able to do anything else? It seems like it has the rhetoric of a 1940s-style Latin classroom dressed up in a sleek app

My favorite Spanish phrase so far is "quèdate conmigo, amigo," which I heard the boy from Coco say to his dog 🥰

I feel like living in the US will be a richer, more connected experience if I can become a proper Spanish speaker, and it makes me so happy that I settled on focusing on Spanish

#spanish #language learning #langblr