#even though my first Spanish class was in the first year of first grade (I got held back) and I got the Spanish teacher for second grade

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Duolingo being like “this is the 15th time you’ve misspelled this word, you’re on thin ice” and my ass is fucking crying because I probably have dyslexia but didn’t get diagnosed as a kid and now I’m being reminded of it all over again when trying to learn another language for the first time since highschool

[fawnsuga]

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎡⠀ ݁🕯️⠀⠀eric david harris⠀⠀၇ৎܵ⠀𓎢𓎟𓎡

Eric David Harris Date of Birth: April 9, 1981 Height: 5 feet 6.5 inches Weight: 135-140 pounds

Eric David Harris was the 18-year-old son of Wayne Nelson Harris and Katherine (Kathy) Ann [Pool] Harris. He had one sibling, a brother named Kevin Harris, who was 21 at the time of Eric's passing.

Born in Wichita, Kansas, Eric grew up in a family with Colorado roots. His father, Wayne Harris, served in the Air Force as a transport pilot, holding various positions at multiple bases across Ohio, Michigan, and New York. Katherine Harris was a stay-at-home mother. The family resided in Plattsburgh, New York, until Wayne was forced to retire from the military in 1993 due to budget cuts. At his 20th high school reunion, Wayne expressed that his primary goal in life was to raise two good sons.

Eric was described as a "normal" teenager during his time in Plattsburgh. Former classmate Kyle Ross remarked, "My mouth just dropped. He was a typical kid. He didn't seem anything like what is portrayed on TV."

In July 1993, the Harris family relocated to Colorado, where Wayne secured a position with Flight Safety Services Corporation in Englewood, and Kathy found work as a caterer. Eric attended Ken Caryl Middle School, where he met Dylan Klebold in the seventh or eighth grade. They became close friends and spent considerable time together.

Initially, the Harrises rented their home for three years after moving to Colorado. Eric began attending Columbine High School in 1995. In 1996, the family purchased a $180,000 home just south of Columbine High School on Pierce Street. Eric met Brooks Brown on the school bus, with their residences in close proximity. Although Dylan had been friends with Brooks since first grade, they had lost touch when they attended different schools. Eric also met Nate Dykeman in Spanish class during the eighth grade, introducing him to Dylan, and forming a close-knit group of friends.

During his freshman year, Eric met Tiffany Typher in German class and took her to homecoming, which was their only date. When she declined to go out with him again, Eric staged a fake suicide, lying on the ground with fake blood. He later wrote in her yearbook (and Nate Dykeman's): "Ich bin Gott" - "I am God." In January 1997, during their sophomore year at Columbine, Eric and Dylan were arrested for breaking into a van but were released early due to positive participation in a juvenile diversion program.

That same year, Eric and Dylan were employed at Blackjack Pizza, where they later purchased one of the firearms used in the Columbine shootings from Mark Manes, a connection facilitated by their co-worker, Philip Duran. Robyn Anderson, a close friend of Dylan's, purchased two shotguns and a rifle, which she then provided to the teenagers who would later carry out the Columbine High School shooting. Eric and Dylan recorded a video of themselves using the firearms at Rampart Range with Manes and his friend Jessica Miklich, practicing with sawed-off shotguns and using bowling pins and pine trees as targets.

Eric and Dylan engaged in various mischiefs at Blackjack Pizza, including setting off fireworks in the back alley and booby-trapping the fence. They even set a fire in the kitchen sink on one occasion. Chris Morris, one of Eric's best friends, also worked at Blackjack Pizza and was arrested on April 20 due to suspicions of involvement in the shootings, though he was later cleared.

In 1997, Wayne Harris began keeping a diary documenting Eric's behavioral issues, which escalated after a falling out with Brooks Brown. According to Brooks' book, No Easy Answers: The Truth Behind Death at Columbine High School, the conflict began when Brooks was consistently late in giving Eric rides to school. After Eric confronted him multiple times, Brooks, who was not receiving gas money, suggested Eric find another ride. In retaliation, Eric broke Brooks' windshield with a rock and terrorized the Brown household with pranks, including placing firecrackers on their windowsill. Eric documented these actions in his personal journals and on websites.

The harassment prompted the Browns to contact law enforcement and Eric's parents. Although Eric apologized, tensions persisted, particularly after he posted Brooks' phone number in an online rant. This incident marked the beginning of Wayne Harris's documentation of his son's troubling behavior.

In January 1998, Eric and Dylan broke into a van and stole electronic equipment, leading to their arrest and sentencing to community service through the Juvenile Diversion Program. Eric expressed intense anger over this incident in his diary, yet presented a remorseful demeanor to his parents and the judge, resulting in early release from his sentence. Concurrently, Kathy began taking Eric to a therapist to address his anger management issues.

Eric aspired to join the Marines and took steps to apply; however, his application was rejected shortly before the shootings. At the time, he was taking Luvox® (Fluvoxamine maleate), an SSRI antidepressant prescribed for his anger management therapy, and had undergone surgery to correct a sunken sternum.

There are theories suggesting that side effects of Luvox® may have contributed to the tragic events, as many antidepressants now carry warnings about potential increases in violent or suicidal thoughts. Friends reported that Eric may have stopped taking the medication shortly before the rampage, which could have triggered a more violent reaction. Sudden cessation of antidepressants can exacerbate negative side effects and, in some cases, lead to severe outcomes. The autopsy report indicated low therapeutic levels of Luvox® in Eric's system at the time of his death. Luvox® typically has a washout period of about 14 days for a 60 mg/day prescription, with starting dosages generally at 50 mg/day and potentially increasing to 300 mg/day as needed. The drug is highly reactive to other substances, including alcohol and marijuana. Evidence suggests that Eric consumed alcohol and smoked tobacco, and friends indicated he may have used marijuana as well.

Eric was unaware of the rejection of his application. The recruiting officer could not reach him to inform him before the shootings. However, Eric's mother mentioned the drug during his meeting with the recruiter, which may have led him to believe his chances were lost, as he had not disclosed his use of an antidepressant during the application process. Friends indicated that Eric believed he would not be entering the military.

In the years leading up to the shootings, Eric was highly active on the internet, exploring its emerging landscape. Judy Brown, Brooks' mother, noted that she frequently saw Eric sitting in front of his computer, raising concerns about the amount of time he spent online. Eric and Dylan had their computers networked to play Doom together, with Eric maintaining a more substantial online presence. His webpages (under the aliases REB, Rebel, Rebdoomer, Rebdomine) garnered significant attention following the shootings, particularly due to the rants released to the public years after the investigation concluded.

The media's initial focus centered around two specific sites: the Doom II site Eric created around 1996 on WBS, and the WBS site prominently featured by news outlets, which contained only the lyrics to KMFDM's "Son of a Gun." The band distanced itself from the Trenchcoat Mafia and the shooters, as did various individuals listed on Eric's site. Marilyn Manson was also implicated by the media, despite no evidence suggesting he or Dylan were fans of his music. Manson publicly condemned the actions taken at Columbine.

A guest from the goth scene noted during a 20/20 broadcast discussing the shootings, "Yeah, blame the music, the clothes..." This reflects a common narrative where societal issues are attributed to external influences rather than examining the underlying problems within families and educational systems.

Eric participated in discussions on WBS (Web Broadcasting System), a platform that has since merged with the GO network. Copies of Eric's user profile remain accessible from before the merger. He was also an active AOL user, with screenshots of his profiles and notes available.

Other websites created by Eric included "Jo Mamma," a page featuring 'yo mama' jokes, along with another WBS page of KMFDM lyrics and a more explicit, threatening site on AOL that included rants about Brooks Brown and violent intentions toward Littleton. Brooks' parents, informed by Dylan Klebold of the website, filed a police report.

Following the Browns' report of internet threats, Eric began documenting his plans to attack Columbine. Speculation suggests they initially intended to carry out the attack on April 19 to coincide with the anniversaries of the Oklahoma City bombing and the Waco siege but later chose April 20 to align with the release of KMFDM's album Adios or potentially due to it being Hitler's birthday. The exact reasoning behind their chosen date remains unclear.

The so-called "graphic content" referenced by the media primarily consisted of images from Doom II. The "demonic pictures" in Eric's notebook were also mainly from the game. Eric maintained a collection of Doom and Quake graphics on his AOL website, but the more alarming content was the rants he published about his disdain for the world, targeting everyone, not just specific groups.

In the months leading up to the shootings, Eric and Dylan recorded their intentions to attack the school and its inhabitants on videotapes (the Basement Tapes), in school assignments, and in journals. Eric created detailed floor plans of Columbine and noted peak times in the lunchroom. In videos filmed in Eric's basement bedroom, where they showcased their weapons fitting under their trench coats, they expressed contempt for their peers, referencing individuals by name.

Eric died in the library from a self-inflicted shotgun wound, placing the barrel in his mouth before pulling the trigger. Conspiracy theories surrounding the circumstances of his and Dylan's deaths have circulated, fueled by the release of forensic photographs. However, these images were taken after thorough searches by the bomb squad, and neither body appeared in the positions initially found.

The Harris family relocated from Littleton shortly after the shootings, seeking to rebuild their lives. While they appreciate the support of well-wishers, they do not wish to be contacted regarding Columbine.

April 9, 1981 - April 20, 1999 Eric was an intelligent individual with a high GPA and a keen interest in not only playing video games but also in designing his own levels. He developed several levels for Doom and Quake, sharing them with friends from Columbine and online acquaintances. His friends characterized him as humorous and bright, though he could become intensely angry.

Eric and Dylan were classmates in a video production course, collaborating on home videos with friends.

Eric had a fondness for animals, particularly his Yorkshire Terrier, Sparky, who suffered from seizures. He also had a strong affinity for cats. His friend Alyssa Sechler noted that her cat adored Eric, and they shared a special bond. Alyssa described Eric as someone who greeted her with warm hugs, though he struggled with self-confidence and often felt inferior to his peers.

Like Dylan, Eric faced challenges with depression and feelings of worthlessness, particularly in the school environment, where he was subjected to ridicule by jocks.

He did not have a funeral, and if a private memorial service was held, details have never been disclosed. According to Jeffrey Toobin's book Homegrown, Eric was cremated, and his ashes were stored in an evidence locker under the supervision of private investigator Ellis Armistead, hired by the Harris family.

On June 11, 2001, Armistead placed the remains of Timothy McVeigh into a locker next to Eric Harris's cremains. Although there are rumors that Eric's ashes remain in this locker, the source does not confirm their current status.

On April 21, 1999, Eric Harris's body was taken directly to the Jefferson County Coroner's Office in Golden, CO, located at 800 Jefferson County Parkway #1000, Golden, CO 80401.

[axeoverblade]

Classmate

PART ONE (CURRENT); PART TWO ; PART THREE

Earth 42! Miles Morales x fem! reader

Synopsis! For the life of you , you couldn’t understand why Miles had it out to get you so bad. If it wasn’t for the mid-year seat change, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged your existence.

MASTERLIST

Genre: light fluff, enemies to lovers like trope, light bully!Miles

Warnings: mentions of sa (nothing happens just mentioned), mentions of violence, maybe foul language but I think that’s it enjoy!

word count: 5k

Authors comment: I keep seeing School themed hcs and I had to say me sphewl(?), planned to be one shot but thinking about a part two. Sorry for any bad translations my Spanish is meh, please leave a like <3

Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade

It was known half way through the school year at Visions Academy the teachers changed the assigned seats. Being in your last hour, you were pretty much comfortable sitting next to almost anyone in the class.

Albeit, you did have a few in your mind you would rather not be sat with. Kids who didn’t like to do the group work, kids who talked too much, kids who always were trying to copy answers, etc.

The teacher went through the neatly organized desks column by column, starting on the left side closest to the door for the new seating chart. There were only four columns seeing as the wooden desks were double seated. You listened as she went through assigning kids to chairs, finally reaching the last column. There were about seven other kids along with you still waiting to be called to the four desks available. All the kids left were somewhat iffy options to be next to for the rest of the year.

…

Only you and three others were left. She called out to the second to last desk, “Amanda and John”. You sigh a breath of relief happy to not be sat next to John who had a crush on you, your thoughts replaying all the times he had tried to get with you. Feelings were not mutual. “ And Finally Y/n and Miles.”

You walked over to the seat from the front of the room, seeing the Miles kid already getting comfortable in his new seat closest to the wall.

You never had the chance to talk to Miles much. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever talked to him. He was very reticent in the classroom. The moment he finished his work which was always relatively quick, he was out of the class leaving a few minutes to spare coming back before the bell rang.

There was a reason you never made an effort to talk to Miles. In fact, it was more like you endeavored to avoid him. His hedonistic friend group were known for being-, uncivil. They treated others horribly, always making someone do something that would make your stomach churn if you had to be the one to do it. And even though Miles was known to never actively participate in those things, anyone who hung around people who did those things were bound to start someday.

What confused you though, he was extremely smart unlike the jerks he was always with. You heard he was one of the highest scoring kids, every report card stamped with straight As. That wasn’t much at this school, almost everyone had straight As and high Bs, but all his grades averaged above 94.

There was also no denying he was very attractive. Surprisingly he was never seen with anyone romantically, unlike his friends who always had a girl or two under their arms. There were definitely people were lined up at his feet though, always trying to cling to him. He always just brushed them off, sometimes blunter than he needed to be.

You had seen it once, a girl you hadn’t really liked had gone up to him during passing period asking for his number only for him to look at her and walk right past her. All his friends and their shallow twats of girlfriends laughed at her, walking with Miles past her.

She cried in bathroom for forty minutes after.

You stood next to your seat, putting your bag down. “Hi I’m y/n” you said, formally introducing yourself to Miles for the first time. He looked up to you from his phone. You watched as he took his time studying you, making you slightly flustered as his eyes roamed your body. He looked back down at his phone, disregarding your presence. “I know.”

You blinked a few times processing the abrupt rudeness.

You rolled your eyes and whispered a few choice words to yourself about the interaction as you sat down, realizing you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year.

You pulled out your phone, texting your friend and roommate Mei, who was across the room, about how rude Miles was. She looked up, seeing you staring at her irritated. She giggled before texting back.

Mei: He so fine tho 😍 ask em if he needs a dog

You: Mei 💀

You: he’s so rude n for what? Like he could’ve just nodded or said his name. I know he got that whole “bad boy” thing goin but ain’t have to do allat

Mei: Ion know gl tho 💯

You: Ur no help 😭 Ima ask for a seat change

Mei: It's the first five minutes you have sat next to each other, maybe he is just nervous from ur emmense beauty 😩 I know I would be

Mei: PLUS u know Ms Reita does not b swappin seats. You know how many times I asked to be moved from Jessica only for her to say tuff luck and move on? Seventeen times. Just give it time n maybe it gets better you never know

You: 😐

You shook your head and put your phone down as the teacher started passing out the work. It was a normal worksheet due by the end of class. You went through, solving the easier problems before going back and finishing the ones you skipped.

You were on your last problem when Miles hand shot up lazily. Ms.Reita looked at him and sighed, knowing that he was going to leave for almost the rest of class period if she let him leave the room. “Is your worksheet finished?” “I wouldn’t be raisin’ my hand if it wasn’t.” “Watch it Morales, wouldn’t want to have to tell your Mom you have detention would you?” He sighed before mockingly smiling “sorry Ms.Reita, can I so humbly excuse myself?” He batted his eyelashes for extra effect, clearly tired of the interaction and ready to leave. She huffed as pointed to the door. You snickered to yourself watching the exchange. He looked at you, a glint of amusement washing over his eyes, but the look left as soon as it appeared. He looked away getting up and walking out.

_

You walked with Mei back to your shared dorm, talking about the nonsense that flooded your minds. Luckily for you, it was Friday and you could go home tonight, you just had to go grab your bag and you would be free from this hell hole.

…

“Alright Mei I’ll see you on Monday” you said, grabbing your suitcase and backpack, pulling it with you to leave. She smiled and waved, still packing. “Bye baby mama” you rolled your eyes playfully at what she said. She would constantly make jokes about how she could care for you and be your sugar momma, even though she was just as broke as you were.

You walked toward the lobby of the school, seeing the exit to the building so close. It felt like knowing air was near when you were drowning, finally being able to catch a break and breathe- “oh sorry baby girl, didn’t see you there.” You felt someone bump into you, too intentional for it to be accident. You cringed at the nickname and gathered yourself. Luckily you hadn’t fallen, just stumbled causing your bag to fall off you. “Don’t call me that John.” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it in on your shoulder. “You know you like it” he said, closer than he needed to be. Recoiling at the sound of him so close to your ear, you stuck your hand out and lightly pushed him further from you. “I really don’t, I already told you I want nothin’ to do with you.” You continued to walk to the exit, only for him to walk beside you. “Cmon baby I can show you the world, stop playing hard to get.” You looked at him, stopping in your tracks, “I’m not playing hard to get, this is me playing I don’t want you” “so you admit you're playing about not wanting me?” He said, smirking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, just wanting to go home. “For the final time John, I am not interested.” You walked again, this time he didn’t follow because his friends were walking up to him. “I’ll see you on Monday baby!” He called out loudly, drawing attention to the both of you. You scowled and walked faster out the building, happy to not have to see John for a few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Miles was watching the interaction from the beginning, ignoring his friends talk about the girls that passed or the sexist comments they made. He noted how you reacted to John, how much disgust surged through your body language. He disliked John, but for separate reasons. John was one of those guys. Class A jock who didn’t know when to quit. Also didn’t know when to shut their mouths. Granted, those were the exact people he hung around. But at least he could tolerate their idiocy, and it was better than walking around the school alone all day. Only kid he hung around that wasn’t like that was his roommate Ganke.

He watched as you scowled and left the school. He shrugged minding his own business, zoning back into the conversation about who had the biggest boobs.

Monday rolled around quicker than you could’ve imagined. And it felt like a Monday, which never helped. You trudged into your last hour groggily, just wanting to be done with the day so you could go back to your dorm and sleep. Walking over to your seat, you looked at Mei across the room. She wiggled her eyebrows, mouthing for you to initiate conversation with Miles. You rolled your eyes, sitting down. Miles was sketching lightly on the worksheet already passed out on the desks. You tried to look at it, but the braid that draped over his shoulder covered your view. You didn’t want to seem invasive, so you just grabbed your sheet and began working.

Finishing the sheet quickly, you got on your phone, scrolling through your socials. You saw a news alert flash across the top of your screen, some message about “the prowler striking again” over the weekend. You swiped it away.

You didn’t hate the prowler in all honesty, but you would never admit that out loud. Whoever was under the mask did bad things, but usually only to bad people. Usually.

The police barely did anything anymore, making it hard to even go outside without getting mugged or groped or something bad. With the prowler being out and about, some idiots have been scared off the streets, enough to where you could at least walk to and from your family apartment to school. In your eyes, the vigilante kinda helped a little.

“Stop tapping, its annoyin” a voice rudely interrupted you from your thoughts. You looked over to see miles looking at you, semi-irritated. You hadn’t realized you were tapping the desk, something you did unconsciously when you were lost in your own mind. You pulled your hand back, putting it on your thigh, “my fault, ain need all that attitude though” you said looking at him. He rolled his eyes and started drawing again. “Whatcha’ sketching?” You asked, leaning towards him slightly. He looked at you with furrowed brows, blinking a couple of times, before going back to sketching ignoring your question. El tiene algunos nervios. Instead of just excusing his behavior like you did on Friday, you opted to invade his personal space; moving his braid, your head now hovering over his shoulder. He moved his body quickly, his reflexes faster than you could process. “Qué coño estás haciendo?” He said sternly, but you didn’t budge. “You didnt wanna respond” you said not looking at him, more focused on the drawing. “That ain’ answer my question” he said, you could feel the irritation laced in his voice, but instead of leaving him alone like he wanted, you grabbed the paper to get a better view. The drawing was a well portrayed mask of sorts, oddly similar to the prowlers, and a few weapons all sketched on the back of his paper. You raised your eyebrow at the drawing. He was actually really good at drawing, the detail for him to have started that less than twenty minutes ago impressed you. He snatched the paper back. You turned your head to him, seeing him looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, getting ready to say something. “Answer me next time and I won’t have to do that” you said before he could speak, a mocking smile laying on your lips. He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath before going back to sketching.

One word, Regret.

You really wish you hadn’t decided to let you imaginary balls get the best of you. Because now Miles how a personal vendetta against you. Damn your pride. Within the span of few weeks he somehow had broken into your locker and trashed you books, he made sure it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t fix easily though, just a few torn pages. He constantly would shove you, which he mude sure to do lightly to not actually hurt you, into the lockers when he passed you in the nearly empty halls when he was with his friends. He would say the most outlandish things to you whenever you passed him when the halls were too crowded and others could see what he did. He made sure his friends didn’t mess with you though, knowing they would take it way too far how they had with the other kids they harassed. And even though you tried to ignore him the first few weeks hoping he would stop, he never did. You swore you could feel yourself loosing your mind.

Miles had only originally planned on pestering you for a day or two to get the point across that you should’ve left him alone, but then he realized how fun it was to provoke you. You became his entertainment, or at least that was the reason that he told himself he went out of his way to annoy you. And now that he had gotten on your last nerve, you were like a ticking time bomb every time.

You made school easier for him, giving him something to look forward to. Your reactions were always so animated, almost comical, making messing with you so funny. He didn’t just mess with you in sense of picking on you., he would mess with you feelings too. He looked for you in the halls just to go behind you and pull you by your backpack into him. You would lose your balance then he would put his hands on you waist to stabilize you, whispering in your the cusp of your ear sternly to “watch where you’re going mami”, a nickname he now would often call you just to see how irritated and flustered you would get. You would always reply with a snarky remark, something along the lines of “he pulled you into him”, always stuttering through the sentence no matter the amount of times he had done this to you, siempre fue tan mono a él. Something that unintentionally brought his face to a smirk was how you never mentioned anything about the nicknames he gave you like you did with John.

His friends would constantly make comments about how Miles liked you and now you were off limits, but every time he shot the idea down with a quick annoyed face. But perish the thought one of his friends gets talks about you the wrong way. They had seen the way Miles looked at the guy who had walked up to and called you pretty. Didn’t ask for your number, didn’t do anything weird, just called you pretty. The problem wasn’t even the compliment, it was how genuinely big you smiled but it wasn’t because of him.

Miles wasn’t going to deny he found you attractive. He had seen you the first day he walked into Vision academy a year ago and couldn’t get you out of his head for week. Hell you were probably the prettiest girl in the school, but maldito eres molestosa. When laying on the bed in his dorm room the nights he wasn’t out doing his prowler work, he could hear your pesky voice ringing in his ears, también pudo ver tu cara hermosa. He hated it. He hated how sometimes your face would pop up in his brain during a mission, and it would make him falter for a moment. Something as simple as hesitating, even for a millisecond, could’ve had him killed mid fight.

He didn’t actually care for you, at least that’s what he told himself. So you can understand why it bothered him so much that he hated weekends now, knowing it was extra days where he couldn’t see you, feel you. Even if it was just a brush on the shoulder when doing partner work, or him shoving you lightly when walking past, glaring at you like you were the one that bumped into him.

It annoyed you to no end you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year. What annoyed you even more was how attracted you were to him. He was so dismissive toward you, and for some reason you would sit in your room giggling with Mei about how his laugh, even though the only reason you had heard it was because he was making fun of you, was the most attractive thing you have ever heard.

…

Luckily today was Friday so you could enjoy the weekend.

It had been a few months since you had been moved next to Miles, a few months since you decided to overstep a boundary you wish you hadn’t, a few months since you’ve been slowly loosing your sanity. Miles had taken it upon himself to mess with you in class, staying for almost the whole period now a days to do just that.

“If you would finish your work then we could be done already” you mumbled under your breath, looking at the shared work you had to do that Miles hadn’t even looked at, too engrossed in his phone. The two of you had been going back and forth since the start of class, now only roughly fifteen minutes left. He looked up to you, squinting from annoyance, “do you ever just, I don’t know, close your mouth?”. You rolled your eyes “If you, I don’t know, finish your half so I can go turn this in then yea maybe I would.” He scoffed, pulling the paper closer to him. A few minutes passed and he slid the paper over to you “don’t say anything else”. You looked at the paper, seeing he had completed his half of the work in record time, you must really annoy him. “Well if you just did that earlier” you said sarcastically, picking up the paper and walking over to the turn in bin, placing the paper in it.

As you walked back to your seat, John started to talk to you. You pursed your lips, walking past him heading to your seat behind him. That didn’t stop him, as all he did was turn his chair around to face you. “So the party is tonight, you can come-” he paused, putting emphasis on the word winking at you, hinting at something else. You looked at him disgusted. “And we can have a lot of fun, perfect chance for you to see how much you truly like me.” You blinked a few times, “yea no” was all you said before looking at your phone. You didn’t fail to hear the small, quiet breathy laugh that fell from Miles lips as he stared at his phone, overhearing the conversation. His laugh alone could make your knees buckle. You quickly brought yourself back to reality, not letting your mind flow with any positive thoughts about Miles. “Cmon’ baby, promise I’ll show you a good time.” “Ain’ I tell you not to call me that?” You said, annoyed that John just couldn’t leave you alone. “You know we locked in, you keep playin.” “John-” “aight hear me out, you come to the party, if you don’t have a nice time -which I can guarantee you will- I’ll leave you alone, how does that sound?” “You’ll leave me alone?” You said, intrigued by the offer. “If you come.” You sighed, “lemme ask my momma.” He smiled widely, happy to have finally convinced you. Miles secretly looked between the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking how pathetic John was.

A few minutes passed as John sat facing you, waiting for a response. You sighed, causing him to perk up. “I need to be home by 11, and you have to send me the address. My mom also needs your number and your mommas number, comprende?” He nodded quickly, typing all the information into your phone so you could send it to your mom. You sent the message, already regretting your decision.

Sure enough.

You sped walk home, the time nearing 10:45. Wiping the tear that trickled down your cheek, you scoffed. The party started off great, you and John had a great time, initially.

Then things got weird, he tried to take you to a bedroom upstairs, you declined, him being intoxicated, grabbed you forcefully to take you up. You were glad you were taught basic self defense. You kneed him in the bolas and grabbed your bag, quickly leaving. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had dranken something, where you wouldn’t have been fully aware of your surroundings. You hurrying to dismiss the thought, happy to be out the party

Normally you would be much more aware of the world around you, had you not been so lost in your thoughts. “Hey there pretty lady” you heard, you couldn’t catch a break tonight. You started walking quicker, almost jogging with your eyes focused ahead of you, as you just wanted to get home safely. “You ain’t hear us talkin to you?” Your eyes widened at the mention of us, realizing there was more than one. You searched for your switch blade that would usually be inside your pocket, but it was no where to be found. You figured it must’ve fallen out at the party, you silently cursed to yourself. Three men were now matching your speed, and suddenly were next to you.

“What’s a little momma like you doing out here all alone, don’t you know there’s bad guys out here?”

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll keep you safe”, they grabbed you forcefully covering your mouth so you wouldn’t alert anyone, not like anyone would help. They pulled you to the nearest alley. You bit the hand of whoever was covering your mouth, causing them to let go of your face. You took this as an opportunity to scream for dear life, only to be smacked into a state of drowsiness. You quickly shook yourself out of it, feeling the stinging sensation spread across your face. Your ear was ringing lightly, and you could’ve sworn this dude knocked your tooth loose. You spit at the guy across from you, seeing bloody saliva land on his face. The guy behind you who was holding you let go and moved to the side. Before you could react to the new found freedom, you were pushed roughly into the wall behind you. “Tonto puta, all you had to do was cooperate” the guy in front of you said, wiping the spit off his face.

Ready to accept whatever was going to happen, you closed your eyes and scrunched your face, only to hear screams of pain from the three men, followed by an uncanny silence.

You opened your eyes, seeing the prowler standing where the man in front of you once was with a bloody claw. The three men were laying on the ground, damn near lifeless. Your eyes widened, your mouth parting from the sight. The vigilante stared at you, you could see the eye like symbols displayed on the mask slightly widened at the sight of the hand-mark on your face before recomposing into a stoic, neutral setting. You were too shocked, and mostly scared to say anything.

The figure got closer, to which you could work out was a male. You took note of the two braids cascading down their neck behind the mask, as well as the oddly clean Jordan’s they sported. You didn’t have much time to take in their lanky appearance, as they took a final step towards you, making it so you had to look up at their mask. Their presence loomed over you eerily. You gaped at him, your pleading eyes filled with fear. You knew he wasn’t necessarily a villain per say, closer to the flip side if anything. He did just save you. But the thought of an individual being so much more powerful than you, knowing that at any moment he would always in control no matter what you did, threw your brain into a constant state of unease. Feeling your heart beating out your chest, you raised your hands lightly placing it on their chest to stop them from getting any closer, even though you knew they could easily overpower you no matter what you did. His heartbeat was slow, almost calming to feel. “Please” you whispered, voice barely leaving your larynx.

As quickly as he had come he left. You looked around, finally spotting him lurking on top of the building across from you, crouching along the ledge looking at you. You looked at the Prowler one last time, making eye contact with their mask silently mouthing a ‘thank you’. He flipped away to wherever else he goes, not acknowledging your gratitude. You nearly collapsed, sliding down the wall. Your hands aggressively wiped your face before meeting your hairline, resting there as you breathed ruggedly. The adrenaline you had was wearing off, and the bruises the men left you with became more prominent on your skin, as well as more painful. At least your opinion about the prowler was correct, he was a good guy after all, to you at least.

Returning to school on Monday was a catastrophe, news spread like wildfire about you being attacked by the three men, as well as your encounter with the Prowler. Random people were approaching you asking what is what like and other random questions revolving around your attack. No one however, was talking about what happened at the party. But you couldn’t blame them, not many people saw what had happened.

…

It was finally the last period. You wanted nothing more for this to blow over, and for you to be done with the day back in your dorm. You walked in, wavering slightly seeing John leaning on your desk. You noticed Miles sitting in his seat on his phone, eye bags deeper than usual.

You quickly sat down, trying your best to ignore John's attempts to talk to you.

“Y/n please it was an accident-”

You ignored him getting your pencil out of the top zipper of your bag.

“Y/n please just listen I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing you gotta believe me” he leaned toward to take your hand, causing you to flinch and pull back. You looked at him angrily “you think being drunk excuses anything?” Your voice was calm and almost at a whisper despite how you felt, trying your best to draw the least amount of attention. He sighed desperately, “No it doesn’t but you gotta see it from my perspective-” “what perspective John?!? The one where you tried to force yourself on me? Or the one where you tried to take me upstairs against my will? I swear if you come near me again, I won’t hesitate to cut your polla off, comprende?” Ms. Reita asked everyone to take their seats, causing John to look at you solemnly before scoffing and turning to his seat.

You huffed, putting your head between your crossed arms on the table. “What happened at the party?” You looked over to Miles surprised. You hadn’t expected him to ask you any questions, but if he did you figured it would be something about the prowler incident. “Nothin’.” You said dismissively. He looked at you skeptically. Before you could even react, he grabbed your phone off the desk and tucked it in his pocket. “You ain’ gettin’ it back til you tell me what happened.” “Why do you care so much?” “Your wrinkles n’ dark circles look worse than usual, wanna know why.” “Could say the same for you” he looked at you blankly. You sighed, “John got a lil’ too handsy is all, don’t worry ‘bout it. Can I have my phone back-“ “mami, how handsy?” His stern voice caught you off guard. He looked at John's direction for a split second, you could’ve sworn you’d seen Miles look at John with a look of determined death. He looked back at you eyebrows furrowed, “he tried to take me upstairs n’ I wasn’t feelin’ it, so he tried to make me” you uttered, a little quieter towards the end of your sentence. “Left before he could do anything” you finished, “can I get my phone back now?” You looked at him tiredly. He let out a simple huh and gave you your phone back, his full attention now on johns figure ahead in the seat diagonally ahead of him.

…

The class had been dismissed, luckily Miles had decided to leave you alone today, you were too tired to deal with his antics anyway. Walking over to Mei dismissing John's stare, you two began walking out of the class heading to the lobby so you head back to your dorm room. As you were walking back Mei stopped at a vending machine to get a couple snacks for the dorm so you two could have a movie night. You waited as she inserted her money, clicking which snacks you both liked to buy them. As she was stuffing the snacks in her bag zipping it up, a student screamed “FIGHT”. You looked over seeing a crowd forming and walked over to see what was happening. Bullying your way to the front you saw Miles on top of John, pounding John's blood stricken face damn near permanently into the floor. Your eyes enlarged at the sight. Miles was clearly irate, and from the looks of it, had no plans of stopping. A security guard quickly ran in and grabbed miles off John's limp body. Miles spit at John, yelling something at him in Spanish that you couldn’t hear over the commotion. You looked at John's body, seeing him look almost unconscious as he coughed violently and rested on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. You gaped at Miles, shock written all over your face. His chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room seeing all the people watching. His eyes stopped as they met yours, his gaze softening slightly before he looked away. A huff fell from his lips as he was dragged to the principal's office. He jerked his arm away, muttering something about how he knew how to walk.

John had to be sent to the hospital.

Miles was in the principal's office, sitting silently as John's parents screamed at the principal while Miles’s mother sat next to him upset. “My child is a great kid! And how is he supposed to feel safe in this school anymore knowing this can happen again, huh?” John's mom spewed mindlessly, ranting about how she was going to press charges. Miles scoffed, causing Rio to look at him with a look of “watch your mouth before I watch it for you.” He just looked down at his hands in his lap.

Miles walked out of the classroom to head back to his shared dorm. He couldn’t get out of his mind what John had done to you. As vague as your response was, he knew more had happened between you and John. He didn’t know why it bothered him so deeply, it wasn't even really his business. He knew the thought of someone being touched like that made him upset, but he felt pure outrage from this specifically, and he knew deep in his heart it was because it was because it was you who had gone through it.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he felt something different for you when he intervened the night the three men attacked you. He almost added three bodies to his belt, for you.

Usually, as bad as it sounds, he would mostly let people get robbed or thrown around in alleyways. He would help occasionally if it sounded gruesome or of dire need for assistance. But he had to save his city from the sinister six, and petty crimes that were bound to happened weren’t the ideal way to do that. But the voice screaming sounded familiar, kinda sounded like you. The thought of you being in danger offset his nerves, and he knew a you were going to a party that night so he went, just to check.

Sure enough.

He stalked you from above the rest of your walk home just to make sure nothing else happened.

He walked into the lobby consumed by his own thoughts, snapping back to reality as he overheard John talking to his friends about how “y/n finally let me hit, she was so tight-”. He paused in his tracks. Ain’ no way acaba de escuchar lo que pensó que hizo. He turned to the direction of John's voice, this was now his business. He walked over, becoming increasingly irate the more John talked about “how much you loved it”. John turned, hearing footsteps approaching alarming quickly. He saw Miles, John knew Miles had heard about what really happened at the party. John scoffed, somewhat anxious he had been caught in his lie and afraid Miles would try to embarrass him in front of his friends. He quickly spoke before Miles even had the chance to say a word,“You ain’ needed here Miles-” John was cut off by a fist colliding with his face, not what he was expecting at all. Johns friends gasped or yelled in shock, Miles didn’t stop though. Miles didn’t even say anything, small grunts of anger being the only thing leaving his lips as John hit the floor. Miles siguan latiendo la mierda fuera de él.

“What you won't even speak huh?” John's mom said, facing Miles. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “You wanna send my baby boy to the hospital and have no reason why? Why are you picking on my kid huh? You-” “You think your kid is the best thing on Gods green earth”Miles scoffed, cutting her off. “Cause he is, my kid wouldn’t hurt a fly and you-”“your oh so wonderful kid tried to rape a girl then went around yappin’ bout’ how much she enjoyed it.” The room fell silent. The principal eyes went wide, “Uh-Uhm, how about we resume this tommorow-” “well hold on,” Rio spoke for the first time, “My son intervened and helped someone in danger because their son was making girls unsafe in the school? Why is he being punished?” “Well Mrs.Morales we didn’t know that happened-” “so you immediately assumed my son was the cause of this not even getting evidence before?” “Well he did start-” “uhn-uh, their child is making the school more unsafe than Miles ever did. Why aren’t they being scolded for this?”

The principal apologized, saying Miles would be suspended for the rest of the week for starting the fight, but no charges could be pressed to avoid anybody getting into serious trouble.

Miles sat in the passenger seat of his moms car, the leather caressing his skin as he looked out the window. A hushed silence had fallen over the two a while ago. Silence is always worse than actually being screamed at, the anticipation is always so suffocating. “So.. who’s the girl?” His mom said, looking at the road ahead. Miles glanced at her before looking back out the window, “classmate.” She nodded, humming. Rio knew her son, and she knew Miles wouldn’t damn near end a kids life just just for some classmate.

“Ella tiene un nombre?” He sighed lightly, “Y/n.” Rio nodded and hummed again, looking at miles through the corner of her eye. “At some point throughout the week, I expect her over for dinner.” “I don’t even have her number, how is she supposed to know” Rio clicked her teeth and smirked,

“Encontrarás una manera”.

©axeoverblade

[karasu4life]

Pic creds: floreaii on Pinterest

Sae Itoshi x Spanish reader, I guess... It's kinda short, not a full story but more like a little self indulgent

I can do a second part hehehehehehehbwhehedbd if y'all like slowburn

Not proofread... At all... 1.3k (eugh I need a word counter instead of a character counter)

First post

Sae was finally getting comfortable in this new country, after being alone for so long. Without his parents, his little brother, or anyone to keep him company during the endless stretches of free time that had slowly dwindled into nothing. Sae dedicated his entire life to football. Football, and only football. To be the best... Striker? He wasn’t even sure anymore. He should know. He was Japan's prodigy, after all.

Every day was a relentless pursuit of improvement, every second accounted for. So the fact that studying was mandatory in Spain—something he couldn't escape—was like a thorn in his side.

He had arrived at thirteen, just in time to be thrust into "primero de la ESO," the first year of high school. Now, at fifteen, he was in tercero. The years blurred together, marked only by training and the occasional match. Classes? They were background noise.

Sae glanced at his grades, printed neatly on the paper he held. Around him, his classmates were a cacophony of shouts—some celebrating, others wailing in despair.

Ah. PE.

It was the only subject where his scores shone. The rest? A mix of pity passes and resigned teachers. He folded the paper, tucked it into his backpack, and waited for the bell. Recess, or recreo, meant thirty minutes of freedom. Normally, he would spend it playing football, but today, he didn’t feel like it.

When the bell finally rang, the classroom erupted into chaos. Chairs screeched, voices overlapped, and footsteps thundered toward the door. Everyone scattered, eager for their break—everyone except one person.

You.

You were fumbling with your backpack, struggling to fix your hair while trying to retrieve your lunch. Sae watched as you sighed, frustration evident on your face.

"Me han gastado la misma broma… otra vez." Your voice was quiet, resigned.

You stood up, leaving your things behind. It wasn’t the first time Sae had seen this. The so-called friends you surrounded yourself with were more like hyenas, always pulling these "jokes." Was that considered bullying or just friendly bantering? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to label it. All he knew was that you didn’t deserve it at all.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was already on his feet, moving towards you. His body acted on instinct, though his mind questioned why. Sae wasn’t one to meddle. He didn’t really care for people. Yet here he was, holding out his lunchbox in your direction.

You blinked, startled, your eyes flicking from the lunchbox to his face.

"Eh?"

"Yo puedo quedarme con… contigo en el, how do you say it, recreo." His Spanish was stilted, awkward, and the furrow in his brow deepened as he stumbled over the words.

A giggle unintentionally escaped your lips before you could stop it. His frown deepened even more, and you quickly cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself.

"Ah, ¡claro! Uh, I mean… I'll put my English classes to good use. Of course you can stay with me! Or, eh, I can stay with you…"

Sae gave a curt nod and turned toward the door. You scrambled to grab your things, trailing after him like a lost puppy.

He didn’t say much as you walked, his expression unreadable. But you didn’t mind.

You never found the perfect wave of words to describe this boy, man, guy, dude, whatever. He was someone admirable to say less. You would always go to his matches, sneaking out of your group of friends just to see him play. You could call them your comfort space, a place where there was no one except you, your thoughts and Sae. The fact that he was someone cold attracted you, making you too curious for your own good. You wanted to get to know him without being brushed off like the rest of people who tried to talk with him.

Qué sorpresa.

Sae found the perfect wave of words to describe you. Someone annoying, very much talkative, sometimes wanting to look cool but failing miserably to the point where you don't even try anymore and just start being yourself. The fact that you took the time to try to fit in, even if you were from this same country, made him want to know more about you. Why would you do that? He couldn’t understand why you bothered pretending to do so when you were clearly better off alone. But maybe that’s what made you different from him. Maybe you weren't afraid of trying, even if it meant failing. Sae didn't try. He didn't let himself fail. He wanted to know why you did.

How surprising.

You found a spot under the shade of a tree, just far enough from the chaos of the football field. The moment you sat down, a ball went flying towards your head.

You saw your whole life flash by in 5 seconds, which was how long it took Sae to react by stopping the ball with his foot and sending it back into the field, startling the group of boys who had sent it flying in the first place.

"¿Seriously?" Sae muttered, his tone dripping with irritation as he sat down and opened his lunchbox.

You stared at him, still processing what had just happened.

"Do you attract bad luck, by any chance?" he asked, his gaze flicking to you briefly before focusing on his food.

"As far as I know… no?" You frowned, though his question made you think. Were you really a magnet for bad luck? Then something caught your eye: his lunch.

"You didn’t bring un bocata!"

Sae looked up, confused. “Un what?”

"¡Bocata!" you repeated.

"…Bocado?"

"No, bocata. Like… sandwich? Bocadillo?" You gestured dramatically, as if miming the shape of a sandwich would help him understand.

"Ah. Right. That." He looked down at his neatly packed lunch—rice, chicken, and vegetables arranged with military precision. "No."

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest as if he had offended the entire nation.

"¿Cómo que no?"

"¿Cómo que sí?" he shot back, his tone flat but carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

"That sentence doesn't even make sense!"—you retorted—"Do you do anything else except playing football?"

"Do you do anything else except watching people playing football?" Your jaw dropped. So, he had noticed. All those times you thought you’d been sneaky, hiding in the bleachers or at the edge of the field—he’d known.

Maybe you were too bored, didn't you have a home?

You were startled. Shutting up and fixing your hair again, uselessly putting some strands behind your ear that decided to go to their initial position. You struggled opening your backpack, Sae was interested.

What was today's prank?

"They put glue on the, this," you pointed at the zipper with a slight frown "the cremallera. Eh, zip-zip."

"Maybe you should do something about it." the boy in front of you took the backpack, forcing it open. It broke the zipper but at least you had your maravilloso bocata.

"Gracias! Eh, ah, quiero decir, no, wait, I mean thank you!"

You both smiled, even though his was almost unnoticeable... Heh... You could say you were special.

It didn't last a bit, too.

Sae had noticed many stupid habits you had. Fixing your hair when you were nervous, hiding every time the teacher asked something because you didn't like being picked, how you only put effort into the things that interested you... That's something both of you had in common.

But, the stupidest one by far was how you didn't face your so-called friends when they did things like this.

"You should report them." said the redhead, bringing a munch of rice to his mouth. "Are these really just jokes?"

"Bueno... I mean, well. It's not that bad. The worst thing they've done to me is when I decided to get too silly in a call where they took 12 screenshots to make them stickers."

You took a big bite off your bocata, looking at Sae. Sae stared back.

...

"I want to feel sorry for you but you make it impossible."

Pspspsps is it ooc

[wosoragebaiter69]

you don’t have to be perfect

barça fem x teen!reader, lucy bronze x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: also i would just like to say, if anyone has any feedback for my writing it’s greatly appreciated cuz i’m not the best writer ik that but i want to improve.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was apart of the contract I first signed with Barcelona that I continue my studies and finish school. Not ideal, but I get by with around 80% and sitting on a B for most my classes. What I didn’t factor in was the amount of stress I would have on top of the League and UWCL games when exams and assignments from 6 different classes were coming up. That’s hard on a 17 year old.

I felt myself start to drift away from everyone in the 2 weeks before mayhem. First it was denying to go out with the younger girls like Salma and Vicky, both of whom understood. Vicky being the same age as me and Salma only 2 years older than us. Then as expectations rose, classes became longer and filled extra information. All the time I wasn't on the pitch, I was studying. Or sleeping. (we dont talk about how even thats being cut down to maximum 5 hours a night).

Living with Lucy meant that she was bound to catch on to what was happening. It was inevitable. She took me under her wing when I first arrived along with some of the older girls and since I don’t speak Spanish natively, I was told to go with Lucy who was told to keep an eye on me. It’s nice, when you don’t want her to worry about how you’re ignoring everyone and have bags under your eyes whenever she sees you. She really does try her hardest to get me to do anything that’s not over analysing and over-studying the numerous topics, but no matter how much it pains me. I always turn her down.

After another night of studying until 2am, there’s an early morning training session and I know I’ve only gotten 4 hours of sleep. If I told the medical staff I’m sure they’d pale.

I’m aware that I probably look like death walking, but it doesn’t bother me. If I pass with above average grades, I’m happy and I know my actual parents will be too. I ignore the concerned looks that Irene and Alexia give Lucy, and get changed ready for the training session.

It’s gruelling, the lack of sleep from the past 2 weeks has finally started to catch up. When I least needed it to. Maybe I am working too hard. It’s too late for that though. I know I’m being watched by the captains, acting for a little bit longer won’t do much harm. Can it?

When the third water break rolls around, I sit on the floor and flop onto my back, closing my eyes. Too tired in the moment to do anything other than breathe. The sunshine above me dulls as Lucy and Alexia stare down at me. When I open my eyes. My captain has a raised brow, while my roommate has her arms crossed.

“Y/N, get up please. Now.” It’s Lucy who speaks first. I don’t give in. What’s their problem?

“No. I am fine where I am thank you very much.” I bite back. Lucy looks like she’s trying to hold herself together and Alexia looks furious. Unconsciously, I sink into myself hoping the ground could swallow me up.

“Nena, we won’t ask again.” The spaniard says, her voice low as she sticks out her hand.

I reluctantly take it, pulling myself up and staring at the two in front of me.

“Come.” Alexia says blankly, leaving no room for argument before walking toward the main building. I sigh, doing as she says or I know I won’t hear the end of it. Lucy trails just behind me, her jaw set and making sure I don’t run away.

When inside I’m placed on a couch, wishing and praying to any extra-terrestrial being that I can leave this confrontation. What is it even about? Why am I here? I’ve done nothing wrong.

“So, we noticed you’ve been pushing people out. You also look dead.” Classic Alexia, straight to the point.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I look away.

“Really? Because when I go to bed, which is around midnight and sometimes 1 if I’m doing other work. Your light is always on. You better fess up now before we make you do extra laps, and clear all the equipment from training.” It’s Lucy this time, starring daggers into me. Still, I don’t let up.

“Maybe I left the light on.” I shrug. “And why do we have to do this right now? I have 2 exams tomorrow. So, if I may. Let’s finish training so I can get to study and do other things.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about Y/N. You’re deflecting absolutely everything we say. You’re not taking the information in. I get you’re stressed but that doesn’t mean you isolate yourself.” She pauses, sighing deeply. “We are going home right now. You will not touch your school work, this has gone on for long enough. I know Alexia agrees with me.”

“Before you argue, just think. Is this really the best way I could’ve prepared? Yes nail in, do the study for good results. But also remember to utilise the support system you have, the team, the coaches, take a break.” By the end of the rant I feel tears well in my eyes. I feel someone hug me and I can tell who it is by the obscurely large hands.

“Nena, go home with Lucy. Get some rest, and not only will you feel better but it gives your brain a break. When the week is over we can talk more but for now go.” The Catalan smiles warmly. I nod my head saying thanks before walking with Lucy to the car.

“Do you feel alright? You do look very pale.” She places her hands against my face and frowns. “No temperature. I’ll get some food into you and we’ll have a rest day. Just us.” I nod slowly staring out of the window as my mind races.

When we get to the apartment, no conversation is made and I immediately go and take a shower. It’s there that I cry and let all my frustrations out, the stress finally taking its toll on my mind.

When I’m dressed and ready I walk out to the smell of pancakes and Lucy sitting on the couch with Narla next to her. She hears me and turns her head around, eyebrows furrowing at the state I’m in.

She pats the open spot next to her which isn’t taken by the Westie and hands me a plate, which I accept gratefully.

It’s a comfortable silence, but I know she’s waiting for me to say anything. And this time, I do.

“I’m sorry Luce.” My voice is quiet and more high pitched compared to what it normally sounds like.

She smiles lightly.

“Hey, these things happen. You’re smart, just as Alexia said give your mind a rest and you’ll do better. Myself, Keira, the rest of the team only want the best for you and your well-being. Let’s not talk about this now, take it step by step. You’ll be ok.” I nod wiping freshly formed tears as she pulls me into a big hug, giving the rest of her pancake to Narla who eats it happily.

- - - - -

And ok it would be. I end up playing Fifa with Lucy the rest of the day before eventually falling asleep against her. As for the exams, I pass by with good grades and after everything’s done the team takes me out to a restaurant to celebrate. As much as I deny it, this team is the most important thing to me. I love and adore them all so much.

[starkspondwater]

Party Game Kisses- Kyle Broflovski x Insecure!Shy!Reader

Reader goes to her first high school party, ending up in a closet with one Kyle Broflovski

Spanish translation by @glitterycollectivestudent here on wattpad

Part 2 x , Part 3 x, Part 4 x

a/n: I manic wrote this and two other parts while at work so I'm sorry if it's complete garbage- it's my first time posting fanfic on tumblr.

SFW-all characters are aged up!

“I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly in the dim light of the closet. Excitement that had once coursed through your veins with attending your first highschool party quickly turned to anxiety the longer you stood in the small cramped room. It was a dream come true to have the bottle land on one Kyle Broflovski, but reality brought with it insecurities and second thoughts. Jesus, why did you decide to come here?

“What? Why?” Kyle’s head whipped down at you, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“I know I’m not exactly who you would’ve hoped to be spending time with here,” and that had to be the truth. You hadn’t had the confidence to actually interact with him before tonight. 

Kyle opened his mouth to respond but then quickly closed it, feeling horrible that in a way you were right. Just like the other guys at the party, he had found himself eyeing up the cheerleaders all night, short skirts tantalizing to their sights. It didn’t matter that he knew he had zero chance with any of them. Ever since grade school he had been aware that out of all of his friends, he was the least desirable. However, that did not mean he couldn’t look or participate in high school party games like this one.

He was, however, surprised to see you here. Kyle knew who you were of course, this was a small town. He had seen you around school often and even shared a few classes with you. You were quiet, and seemed to make yourself small, almost invisible, in any room you occupied. At the sound of your voice, Kyle realized he had just been standing there in silence looking at you.

“It’s alright,” you spoke again, the sounds of the party still heard beyond the closed door. “I, um, I don’t expect you to do anything. With me. In here.” you mentally smacked yourself with every word.As you continued your mental assault on yourself, Kyle peered down at you, eyes properly taking in your form for the first time since the whole game started. 

You were not a cheerleader like the ones he and his friends had been sneakily glancing at all evening, but you most definitely were not unpleasant to look at. At school it wasn’t uncommon to see you completely covered, especially with the chilly weather that often took over South Park. Tonight though, you wore a dress, not as short as some of the other girls, but short enough that it showed off much more leg than you were used to. He noticed the way you subtly tried to pull at the edges.

You were bigger than some of the other ladies of South Park High School, but it wouldn’t be true to say that made you “unattractive” in his eyes. You had quite the figure, with wide hips that swung as you walked and a substantial bust not even large sweaters could hide (Hell, Kenny had even made a comment or two when passing by in the hall) But the one thing he really noticed was that despite how quiet you were, you had a nice little smile, one that was warm and given freely when you actually did talk to people. He found you pretty, but felt weird that even after years at school he had not taken the time to actually get to know you before now. At the moment though, Kyle felt like a dunce since you were obviously fidgeting at his lack of responses.

“You look really nice tonight, (Y/N),” he found the words clumsily leaving his mouth, feeling stupid immediately as he tried to fill the empty space. The light chime of your giggle reached his ears, which based on the heat he felt on his face must’ve been some varying shade of pink.

“I appreciate the compliment, but you really don’t have to,” you smiled softly up at the redhead before continuing. “I’m very aware of who I am and what I look like, just like I am of you, and just like I am of those other girls out there.” Kyle furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean by that?” Your cheeks flushed as you realized how that may have sounded. 

“I just know that I’m not exactly a catch in this game. I mean, you’re on the basketball team, incredibly smart, good looking, and at least from what I’ve seen, popular.” You avoided eye contact through all of this, heat rushing into your face with every statement you made. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice some of the girls getting excited when you sat down to play?” 

He didn’t. He honestly didn’t think any of those girls gave a rat’s ass about some ginger jewish kid with, admittedly, anger issues and a short fuse. Yet, here was this very pretty girl listing his attributes like she was writing his tinder profile.

Thinking back on it, he noticed you had seemed aware of him before despite the fact he had not spared much attention to you. He had caught you at times looking at him in class, eyes meeting briefly before turning away from him. Looking back through memories, he can see that his previous explanation that you were just nosing in on drama with Cartman or whatever he and his friends were laughing at might’ve had a different meaning. Even now, he can see the widening of your eyes, surprised at being caught, and the blush dusting your cheeks as you glanced away, trying to seem casual. Something about all of that hit something in his core, and he found himself actually very glad to be in this little closet with you.

“Were you excited?” The question bubbled forth before he could properly figure out what he wanted to say or do. All he could think about at this moment was how close you were to him and how your plush lips were now forming an “o” of surprise at his question. You tried to quickly answer, sputtering for a moment. Kyle, to his own surprise, found it incredibly cute. “Did you want to do anything in here?” Your face snapped up, meeting his gaze and taking in wide green eyes and a slowly growing smile. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to…There are other girls…” you trailed off, not knowing what direction to take here. You wanted to kiss him but you also didn’t want him to feel pressured at all just because he was unlucky enough to have your bottle land on him. Kyle paused, before running a hand roughly through his ginger curls.

“And if I want to?”

“What-” You were cut off with lips upon your own, long arms snaking around your waist as you were backed into the wall. Being quite a bit shorter than Kyle, you found yourself straining on your tip toes and keeping a firm hold onto his shoulders. It was electric and warm, a feeling your body was not well acquainted with as your nerves began to heat up. Slightly chapped lips moved against yours and you could not help the small moan that emitted from the back of your throat.

Abruptly you pulled back, both horrified and embarrassed at the sound. Glancing up at the young man in front of you, his arms still tucked to your sides, you were a bit shocked to see a look of disappointment.

“Was it that bad?” his voice was small, and for a small moment you saw a flash of self doubt in his eyes.

“Not at all!” you said quickly, urgency painting your voice. “I just…I really enjoyed it.” You felt like screaming at admitting that but just as fast as your internal panic began it was silenced. Kyle’s lips met your own once again, though this time instead of pressing you to the wall, he broke the kiss. With quick movement he smoothed out your hair and your dress, stepping back and giving you a large boyish grin. Before you could say another word more, the closet door opened, signalling that your time there had ended. 

Once back out into the world, you turned to talk to Kyle, who unfortunately had already been whisked away by his friends. However, before he was just out of sight, you caught his eye. He gave you a quick wink before the burly hand of Eric Cartman roughly grabbed his shirt and dragged him off into the next room.

Checking your phone, you figure it’s about time to head home, all the way thinking that maybe deciding to go to that party was a good thing after all.

[atxxzist]

to the only boy i've ever loved | 02

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 652

-- the first meeting

january 1, 9th grade

hi san,

it's a little past 12 a.m. so it's finally new year. i wonder if you have any goals you want to achieve this year? i'm not so sure myself but i think i want to take school more seriously and improve my grades and gpa.

i got a 'c' on two of my classes: science and spanish, and it's not even that i didn't understand the materials, more so that i procrastinated so much until the last second and wasn't able to turn in some major assignments. i'm going to do better this upcoming semester, hopefully.

(recently, my dad has taught me to stop using probable but not certain terms like maybe, probably, hopefully... and to be more sure and confident in myself. i'm learning but it's still a habit)

i'm writing this because i don't have anything better to do this late and i can't sleep. it's also new year and because i have a laptop now, i figure i should probably write about some things i would be able to look back to in the future if my memory starts losing itself? perhaps like the first time i ever met you.

i think that's a good start if i'm going to be writing about you for a long time.

but it was in the 6th grade and you just transferred from another school. i remember thinking you were so cute (you still are) when you first walked into our classroom. you had such big eyes and a cute little nose. because of this, you got popular among the girls pretty fast and even got yourself a girlfriend not too long after.

granted, i was a tiny bit jealous even though i was really good at acting like i didn't care about you and the only time we interacted at all in 6th grade was when we were assigned in line orders and i was put right behind you for a week and accidentally stepped on one of your shoe laces.

you wouldn't even be able to tell at all that every time we got in line for lunch, my heart and stomach always felt funny for that entire week. i was both sad but also relieved when the teacher reorganized the order.

just thinking about it now, you've changed quite a bit in comparison to my very first impression of you. you looked so timid and overwhelmed by the attention at first, i couldn't have predicted you would be best friend with wooyoung jung to this day.

he has always been loud, silly, and a bit disruptive in class from time to time, i for sure thought there was no way you two would get along. i was very wrong because by the time we were about to go to middle school, you two became two peas in a pod.

(wooyoung really only knew i existed because before you came, i was 1 of the only 4 asian students in there and the only other korean besides him)

from then, you started hanging out with the popular crowd and i felt the gap between us grow wider.

i never planned on asking you out and i don't plan to, but it was just a feeling that was hard to ignore, even now.

sophie asks me all the time if i don't plan on doing anything about my crush then why do i still keep doing the things that i do, such as writing these letters and always talking about you.

honestly, i don't have an answer right now either. maybe i enjoy the feeling of liking someone? that there's something to look forward to when i go to school? i don't know, but hopefully my future self will know the answer haha. (sorry dad, i used a maybe and hopefully).

this is getting a bit too long, but i hope you have a good new year and again, i'll see you in less than 2 weeks!

sincerely, y/n.

next // series m.list

taglist: @brown88

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

How many languages were you raised speaking? How many can you read now?

Can you please crack my head open and give me anything that is not English, please I've been studying Spanish for so many years and I still don't have it, and there's so many more I'd at least like to read...

To the first question: One. Just English. Or one and a half if you count growing up in a heavily Spanish speaking part of the country and just sort of absorbing it.

Now I can read six languages: English, German, French, Italian, Spanish, and Dutch.

I can read for meaning in Portuguese but please don't ask me to translate. And I can take fairly educated guesses on what something is about in Latin.

I wouldn't even say that I am particularly good at languages. For most of my education, my language classes were my most consistently ok grades (as opposed to good). I still panic a bit when put under pressure to speak languages, even though my listening is usually very solid, which means I sometimes understand but respond in a different language.

And I wish I had good advice, but it's honestly just been forcing myself to use it consistently? I didn't get solidly good at German until I lived in Germany. Dutch only happened for me because I lived in the Netherlands and was more or less forced to learn through everyday life.

The romance languages have been really significant as reading languages in my research, so it's a sink or swim thing. My French has improved through sheer force of reading it a lot.

I cannot say that I recommend throwing yourself in the deep end. It's just how I got my brain to do it.

[homunculus-argument]

Intelligence is a nebulous concept that can't be perfectly and exactly measured in numbers or other metrics, but there are things people generally agree as signs of at least some intellect. An ability to learn and employ new knowledge, adapting to new information, being able to notice patterns and correlations between seemingly unrelated things. Being able to adjust one's methods as needed, ability to make deductions and educated guesses based on incomplete data, being able to improvise if necessary.

And look. Don't get me wrong here. But I learned to read on my own when I was five, I literally have no memories of ever not knowing how to read. English is not my first language, I cannot officially call myself bilingual because neither of my parents was a native english speaker. I first picked it up by hearing it on TV. I could already read and speak english when I went into school, and for the rest of it I managed to get decent enough grades purely by improvising that nobody noticed that I literally never did my homework ever before I was 11. Nobody noticed that I have an attention deficit disorder before I was 27.

I learned to play the clarinet, the piano at some point, and though I lost my voice, I used to sing. If you gave me an instrument and played me a tune, I could repeat it playing by the ear. I could even write it down, note by note, if I heard it a few times and remembered it. If you gave me notes of a song I've never heard, I could whistle it from the notes.

I learned enough swedish in school to read the back of a shampoo bottle, but still enough to compare and contrast the nuance differences in the finnish, swedish and english translations of the same notifications at bus stops. I can summarise what is the unifying element between a long list of words with the same prefix or suffix, and name their mutual definition. I remember enough of the french I learned in school and spanish I learned on my own to roughly parse together portugese.

My parents met in university, but while I never made it to college, I've still made myself a career in something I never went to school for. I have no higher education in arts past high school art classes. I am a full-time professional in something I taught myself, working with a script I also wrote myself without any guidance past brief googling.

That being said, I can't read an analog clock. I've learned how to do a lot of things in my life, but that's the one thing I can't fucking do. You can show me a clock face and I won't know what it means. If I can't look at my phone and there's nothing with a digital clock available, I've learned tricks on how to get people to tell me the time without admitting that I can't read it. Like asking someone if they think the clock on the wall is on time, prompting them to look at their own clock and tell me what their clock says. Pointedly looking at the clock and remarking to people that We Have Plenty Of Time, and assessing from their reactions whether that is true or if I was sarcastic. I never learned to read a clock face, but I've learned plenty of ways to get people to read it to me.

And every single time I tell people I can't read a clock face, they start trying to explain it to me. Like look. I'm 29. You do not know any method to explain it that I would never have encountered in the past 20 years. None of them sunk. I've tried until I cried and I still can't do it. I could learn to translate poetry from french, how to put together a car engine, or how to skin a llama, but that is the one thing I cannot do. I do not know what the positions of the arrows pointing at numbers mean, and you can't make me.

[alphyser]

I come back to post about Kaminari and ended up posting about Monoma instead.... anyway, here are some Monoma things in my Dr ☕

(Also for some odd reason he looks like Satan from obey me....)

(Just look at that... it's so uncanny..)

— he is partly dutch, he doesn't talk about it much though. He does brag about his gramma being a royal (we don't know if this is true)

— He is prideful and boastful, not about himself though. Mostly his friends or his family. He loves them to death and is their ultimate hype man. Bro's the type of guy who doesn't mind being insulted but look at his friends the wrong way and he'll beat your ass

— EXTREMELY bad singer. Like, I think he's tone deaf, one of my favorite stories (that I heard from Kiri who heard from Tetsu) was that Monoma was singing in the showers and everyone could hear it in the dorm, it got so bad to the point that Manga screamed at him and the text bubble broke a wall 😭

— He's actually a very quiet person (just get him away from class 1-a and his opps). He much prefers to study or read cooped up in his dorm room. He's just an introvert in disguise guys, trust me.

— Theater kid! Despite his lack of vocal ability, the man can ACT. Okay for a bit of context, UA has a lot of events in the SY, one of those was a play put on by the students, written by the drama club and performed by the drama club and whoever wants to audition. During our year, they performed Be More Chill, and Monoma got Michael as his role and he ATE. I cried. Izuku cried. Most of us did.

— UA had the school festival, but they also have University week! It's basically a break for the students to just enjoy and celebrate the legacy of the school! There are stalls all over with food and a few events set up by the students. Why did I say all that you may ask, well there's this improv game that happened in the courtyard of UA's main campus and anyone could enter, from any course and any grade. Monoma joined it and he slaughtered the competition... it's actually insane how easily he can go from insane and deranged to giving the most heartwrenching monologue...

— He is fake pretentious 😞 He says he likes tea and wine but he is a liar. He loves shitty coffee. His favorite are those vending machine ones because they're sweet. His "wine" in lunch? grape juice 😞

— DnD player. This is actually how I figured out he's a chill guy. He is a great Dm and is actually very considerate of his players. The first time I played with him he taught me how to do character sheets properly, also he owns so many dice but they're all basic as hell (apparently he prefers the clean look). He also has a dmpc, it's a half-goblin btw.

— Was bullied as a kid, not for his quirk really, it was mostly because he was a little... chunnibyou. Think Kaidou from Saiki k, he was a lil weirdo 😞 (He's recovered now. He's not like that anymore but sometimes he does do rp online)

— Shit spice tolerance. It's so bad. He can't even handle black pepper and peppercorns 😞 He pretends like he has god tier spice tolerance though.

— Language man, he speaks many! Mostly european languages though. Japanese, English, Dutch, German, and French. He likes studying them and is currently learning Spanish

[torveiglyart]

The more I think about my hobbies and achievements (or lack thereof), the weirder I realize my life is. I had never really thought about some of these things until as of recent, specifically when someone introduced to another as "cool". Like what.

First things first that I've talked about on here is I'm an oboe player. Which is already a kind of "different" instrument to play. And, actually, I've been third chair in the All-District wind ensemble for grades 11-12. So there's that.

Another thing I tend to tell people /if prompted/ is I'm a nationally recognized Scottish Highland dancer. I placed third in the southeast regionals and qualified to perform in Las Vegas along with everyone else who qualified across the country. This one is kinda like my "fun fact" during ice breakers 'cause it's something I know won't be repeated.

I'm a digital artist, as you all know, but I also do traditional art often. A few of my paintings in my portfolio helped me score a spot in NCSU's ID program. Maybe one day I'll scan them and post here.

I'm a singer. This one goes multiple ways as in: HS choir, church choir, musical theatre, and bands. I just like singing and got blessed with a nice voice... I think.

I can bake and decorate very well. As in won a cookie decorating contest at the NC State Fair well. That was a good year for me :). But it's also the perfect ganache every time kind of good. I guess the same can be said about cooking given no meal I've made has gone wrong or tasted bad. I seriously hope it stays that way.

This next one only partially counts because while I'm not /fluent/ by any means, I can somewhat comfortably hold a conversation in a few languages. French, Spanish, Japanese, and, strangely enough, Swahili, are languages I've worked on since uhhhh... I don't know at this point. And I've since added Scottish Gaelic to that list to work on. Languages just fascinate me and I plan to travel A LOT when I get the money to do so.

I do archery in my free time. Often enough I have my own bow and arrows. It’s fun. And last time I went to an actual range I never missed a target which I’m totally bragging here but it’s also just a fun activity to get anger out, you know?

Back to the musical theatre thing, I actually was called back for an audition to enroll at UNCSA, but did not make it. And back in freshman year, I did this whole Society Performers multi-class thing, but cut it short to work on my studies. So while I probably could have gone into theatrics, I don't think that would have been the best choice for me.

An going further back to the instruments, I can also play piano, ukulele, and clarinet, but lessons are those were far fewer than oboe.

Time for the weirder stuff.

I definitely have ADHD, and so does my dad, but we're both undiagnosed so let's just not go there.

I can't whistle or roll my tongue. People always seem really surprised by this one but it's not like I'm in a tiny percentage with that one.

I'm nearsighted in one eye and far sighted in the other, and I also only require one contact lense/prescription. Actually let's call this the whacky section.

I'm allergic to celery. Yes, celery. And only that. Not pollen, not pets, not dust, not even ragweed, but celery. And only when it's raw. Cooked in a dish? Fine. Raw in a salad? Cotton-mouthed and itchy. Not terribly sad about it though.

I can't ride a bike. Like, I know how to in theory, but I just never had a bike growing up. My older sister's always had a flat tire, and by the time my younger brother got one, I was too big to ride it. So I scooter instead :).

I have perfect pitch, as in I hear a pitch, and can tell you the note it is, and can tell you what key a song is originally in and sing it. I would get in trouble a lot as a kid for "picking a fight" with my siblings by telling them, "it actually goes like this," and then changing the key they were singing in. While many find this cool or helpful, unless you're a music student or something, it's actually annoying. The car radio is always a few microtones sharp and there's nothing I can do to make it in tune. My choir teacher would also have me sing the starting pitch for songs, no tuner, which was nerve-wracking.

WOW this was just me ranting (bragging) lol, sorry about that, but hey! Now you know more about me!

If you have any questions or comments, don't be afraid to ask! Or, y'know, do the whole asks thing. I think I changed the icon for that but I'm not sure.

[arthurn9]

Opal, Byroden, And a Sense of Mexican/Latino Culture in Exandria

Aimee Carrero is a treasure for bringing Opal to life. She's absolutely my favorite character in EXU, and it's not even close. (That is to say, I love them all, but Opal is just...she's everything. Charismatic, fun to talk to, friendly, a little ditzy and naive, full of herself, show-offy...I could only dream of making PCs like her (and I have tried lol).) And while the character is amazing in and of herself, what she represents actually means so much more to me.

A little backstory. Breaking kayfabe a little here, don't worry, it can still be real to you, damn it, but I am not, in fact, a blue-skinned tiefling with sky blue hair and a silly tail in what some would call "the real world". I'm of Latino descent, specifically Mexican-American, first generation. My parents are from Chihuahua and Durango, Mexico, respectively, and came to the US to make a better life for themselves, finding each other and bringing me into this world in the process. Spanish was my first language, and although it's long since been supplanted by English as my default language, I still speak it enthusiastically when with my family.

I grew up going to fiestas, celebrated several quinceañeras for various cousins and my own sister, went to misa (church service) every Sunday as a good Catholic boy, and took several trips to Mexico over the years to visit grandparents and family.

And at some point, I kind of grew ashamed of that.

Apparently, it's not entirely that uncommon, and kind of understandable. For me, it's hard to say what caused this change in my mentality. It might have been because all around me, everyone spoke English and lived the culture of America (which is a paradox in its own right, considering the hodgepodge of culture that is America). Maybe it was leftover resentment from being put into basic ESL courses in 1st and 2nd grade despite being one of the fastest-learning readers of English in Kindergarten. (I won the limo-pizza party prize from Dominos for reading so many books, damn it!)

Whatever the case, by 6th grade, I was almost exclusively speaking English everywhere, only begrudgingly speaking Spanish when talking to my parents because that's basically all they spoke. I rolled my eyes at things like Pinatas at birthday parties and going to Church (though that might have just been my growing agnosticism). Hell, even my name changed; Arthur is just the Anglicized version of my real name. I'll let you figure that out. And in high school it got really bad. I basically had to take Spanish classes to get back some semblance of speaking the language, and even then I wasn't super happy doing it.

Since then, after maturing a fair amount, I've recovered most of my Spanish speaking ability and patched things up, largely, with my parents. Turns out moving out is all I needed to get the ball rolling! How about that.

Part of that recovery journey has been connecting a bit more over time with my Latino roots. Movies like Coco and Encanto helped recover my interest in a lot of those roots, and I started to more and more gain confidence in those roots. Slowly but surely I started to weave those Mexican roots back into my own storytelling. My favorite Original Characters, Rhys and Uniqua Plateado (from a RWBY AU called AXUR I made with my best friend that I may talk about some day) were deeply entrenched in Mexican/Spanish roots (or the Remnant equivalent of same), with Uniqua in particular deriving her battle style/armor design from both Spanish Flamenco and Mexican Jarabe. More and more of my writing was influenced by the culture of Mexico and the American Southwest.

And then the bomb that is Opal dropped.

To quote Aimee Carrero: "My first question when creating Opal was: 'What’s the Exandria equivalent of Laredo, TX?'"

It turns out that through talking to Matt Mercer, Aabria Iyengar, and creative down at Whitestone Towers (yes I did just make another wrestling joke What Of It), Aimee had created a hub of Exandrian-flavored Mexican culture. Before, Byroden was just a town in the twins' backstory, the site of tragic loss. Now, it was a lively community filled with wonderful cuture, debutant balls, and so much potential.

Because of that inspiration, I was able to finally fill in the gaps for my most beloved player characters' backstories. I was able to find a home for the Cena family, now officially retconned to be their true form: Ex-icans! (please don't shoot me it's a bad name but it's got spirit)

I was able to integrate its culture into my own campaigns. Several prominent Latino wizarding/magic families now live there in my campaigns' version of Exandria. Spanish flows there, and you can visit La Purisima Panaderia for a sweet treat (definitely named for a wonderful Panaderia in my local area that popped one of my players, another Latino native to the area). My main OC family, the Cena's, has a set of triplets among then, two of them (the bitchy, bratty ones) named after two characters from a legendary meme-worthy telenovela (and yes, this was mostly to have one of them spout the funny catchphrase). The third was named for my most beloved Aunt Leticia, who resides in my soul even 13 years after her passing. (Also apparently also named for the protagonist of said telenovela but that was actually a complete accident. Also the elder sister was named for an alias the protagonist of that telenovela takes at one point you know what I'm just gonna say I'm the 6th remake of Betty La Fea and be done with it.)

I was even able to put some of my own mother's heritage in my games! In my version of Byroden, a family owns a toy shop (that has all sorts of cool arcane toys and gadgets). However, its biggest attraction is an arcane doll that supposedly was a human woman at one point...and she sits dormant, celebrated every year by the people of Byroden around the point of Harvest's End. This was inspired by a similar story of a mannequin supposedly created by an embalmed bride-to-be, a legend in Chihuahua.

While I could definitely have done this on my own in some way, having that inspiration come when it did, when my own journey to recover that identity was at its peak, did so much to help show me how cool it could be to integrate that into my storytelling. I'm more excited than ever to implement my roots into my storytelling, and it's all thanks to one cute girl with white hair, a pink jacket, and a penchant for tying good knots. So thank you, Aimee Carrero. Now please bring my girl home, spider mommy is scawy and I don't wanna say goodbye to my giiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrlllllllllll

also on another note though it's never been properly discussed Vax and Vex are a bit brown canonically and are from Byroden so um....maybeIheadcanonthatWeClaimThemokaybye

[theverumproject]

Get To Know Me Tag!

Thank you for the tag @rivenantiqnerd!

I rambled a little too much in this one, woops.

Rules: Answer the questions because I want to get to know you better :D 

Do you have a pet?

No, but I frequently get visited by a cat that is older than I am (She's like 22 or something lol). But my mom, my sister and I have been wanting to get chickens!

Comfort food?

I don't really have one? A steak, maybe?

How many languages do you speak?

My native language is Swissgerman, so naturally I also speak High German and obviously I speak English. So let's say 2.5 languages, because the two Germans are similar, but not the same.

I wanna learn many more languages though, that includes; Romansh, Italian (we had it in school for six fucking years but I can barely speak it), French (these three are the other national languages of Switzerland), Swedish, Norwegian, Finnish, Greek, Russian, Japanese, Welsh, Old Germanic, Latin, Old English and perhaps spanish. There are just sooo many beautiful languages in the world, though I know I will probably never get past the 2.5. 

Random fact about yourself

As a kid I got so sick of radio music that I didn't listen to any songs with lyrics in them for about 2-3 years. I only listened to Dubstep, which eventually turned into only listening to Deathstep (and some robo and metalstep) for about 2 years.

One day I found a remix of the songs Psychosocial and The Devil in I by Slipknot. Slipknot was my gateway band to metal. I practically only listened to them for probably more than half a year.

And then I discovered aliencore. Aliencore is a subgenre of death metal in which, you guessed it, everything is about aliens. So I got obsessed with Rings of Saturn at first (I still mourn them deeply) and later on with Aversions Crown. So I pretty much only listened to them for probably more than half a year too.

Then I got obsessed with Behemoth and Gorogoroth for a while, that's how I began listening to black metal too. About one or two years ago I got obsessed with Ghost and only listened to them for more than half a year, AGAIN!

That was the last time I obsessed over a band. Now I just listen to a bunch of different bands and artists. I don't have a favorite band at the moment, but my favorite song is Sommer by Nargaroth. I also love Starchild by Wintersun, Fading Memories by Thy Pallor, Wieczernia by Batushka, The Sun, The Moon, The Star by Aether Realm, Million Year Summer by The Angelic Process, The Satanist by Behemoth and a bunch of Slipknot songs like Gently, Iowa, Scissors and The Virus of Life.

I really just rambled about my entire musical journey, fucking hell.

Something you’re proud of?

In my last year of school, we had to do a final project. I chose to write about how I imagined the future to look like. I researched everything to be as scientifically accurate as possible. I had a bunch of ideas for topics, and in the end I ended up with six. They were: “Can you bring artificial intelligence to life?”, “What could the future of space travel possibly look like?”, “How could the cities of the future look like?”, “Will humanity go extinct?” “What is the technological and human singularity?” and “What is my idea of transhumanism?”. (The original titles are in German).

I had a blast during the presentation, I even made somebody cry actually. I showed them a video of ChaosGPT and it actually frightened some. One girl was wiping her tears away. To me this was really funny, because I put the video on 2x speed which made the Mozart music in the background sound really funny. Imagine some evil AI planning to destroy the world, while a girl is crying as Mozart is playing at 2x speed in the background and I just stand in front of the whole class and two teachers, trying to hold my shit together.

Anyway, I got a 6 (best possible grade) for the written work, a 6 for the journal and a 5.8 for the presentation (I talked for over an hour, which was a little too long, but the rest of it was fucking great!!!), so I received a -6 for the whole project. My other teacher also gave me a 6 (It's an unofficial grade though) and the whole class had to give me a grade too, which were all 6s too!

So yeah, I did a fucking amazing job!

Tags: @teamarine777 @creative-author + open tag!

[rustycottoncandy]

I was wandering around my mind before going to sleep as one does and my head decided to remind me that school will be over in a little less than three months.

Gee.

I've gotten very fond of my high school. School was terrible, I think I've got a couple old posts about why, but my experience in primary school only made my experience in secondary/high school even better than it normally would've been. Sure, I have had my crisis, and I've been prettttttty close to stripping myself from future birthdays, but I'm still here and my experience in high school, mental health aside, has been amazing. Gosh.

Well, partly. I've had a few de-motivating teachers, true, but I've also met amazing people. Both teachers and students enter that category.

I read a book written by a teacher of mine, have I ever posted about that? Then I went on to interview said teacher about his book for a Catalan task. The interview lasted 22 minutes and I've still got it somewhere.

I also attended another teacher's book presentation two years ago. Although, unfortunately, I barely remember anything about that teacher because I was going through an awful time when I was her student and a big part of what went on that year has jumped out of my mind. I do know that I appreciated her, though. I appreciate a lot of my teachers.

The two teachers I appreciate the most are my current Spanish teacher, and my former Cinema teacher. They've impacted my life positively and I want to write each of them a letter and hand them it on the last day of school.

My Spanish teacher has been teaching my grade since our first year in high school. I've always seen her sort of like a grandma. She behaves as such. She treats us very nicely and her classes tend to be pretty calm — and I'm good with languages, so they're fun to get through. She's good at explaining stuff and you can see she likes her profession.

There was one point in high school in which I didn't really have many friends, and the ones I had didn't want to hear about my stories or the things that I was interested about, so I shared them with her — and I still do! She likes to hear about my stories and I like sharing them with her. I remember that I once had nobody to talk to at a school trip, so I ended up spending the trip talking with her. She's also helped me calm down several times when I've gotten anxious and I've asked her for a hug many times after class when the day's been stressing. I'm excited about bachillerato (Spanish college, sort of?? I think?? It comes before university), but gee, I'm gonna miss having her as my teacher.

As for my former Cinema teacher? He is a geek. Like, a huge geek. And a cinephile, too. Which is amazing, because I consider myself a geek as well. I was only his student for one year, but we still talk when we see each other in the hallways. He's the one whose book I read last year — amazing book, by the way! I'm not gonna share the name because I don't want to let the internet know who my teacher is, but it was a really enjoyable read (the book is one of the reasons I look up to him, by the way). He got very excited when I asked to interview him about it, and the interview itself was SUPER fun! We often talk about movies and he gave me a book at the end of last year! Marina, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón! And I LOVED it!! I've also shared a couple of my comics and drawings with him and I'm looking forward to helping him illustrate a children's book about a cat. I really appreciate him because he encourages me to follow my passion, and so does my Spanish teacher! And I want to get a degree in art and make my stories known, not only for myself, but also so that I can make them proud in the future.

I hugely appreciate them and I'm really gonna miss taking my Spanish teacher's classes and chatting with my former Cinema teacher in the hallways when I leave high school. BUT leaving high school will take me one step closer to getting to work with my art professionally. AND I WILL WRITE A BOOK ABOUT SMOOTH ROSES GOD DAMNIT. AND I WILL GIVE IT TO MY SPANISH TEACHER AND MY FORMER CINEMA TEACHER AND THEY'LL BE PROUD OF ME FOR WRITING IT AND I'LL BE LIKE HELL YEAH AND EVERYONE WILL CLAP

OKay that was a bit exaggerated but I DO want to write one of my stories so that they can read it and Smooth Roses is the perfect candidate

[th3h0nkz]

˚ ༘✶｡ ℝ𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕄𝕪 𝕋𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕒 𝕂𝕚𝕕𝕤

That's right babes, I'm back again with this series, and you can blame tik tok for putting thousands of duncney edits on my FYP, so enjoy it while my new old obsession last.

I decided to redo all of it bc I didn't liked the way that I was writing and making the characters so here I'm again. I'm also thinking about deleting the old ones but for now they gonna stay.

𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍-𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 @666babu 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗉𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗍 𝖣𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖬𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀

𝐈. 𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐧𝐞𝐲 (𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐜ɑ𝐧 + 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐲)

୬ 𓈒 ⊹ ა𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 & 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝑨. 𝑃𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎 𝐵𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑒

She/Her; pansexual; 18 years old

An academic rebel, just because she against the system that doesn't mean she needs to have bad grades, her mother wouldn't allow it

Is the older twin by 4 minutes and because of that is super protective over her brother

Gold jewelry girl for life

All of her tattoos, even the ones she hides with her clothes, were draw and made by her father

Besides her earrings, she also have tongue and nipple piercings

Is a theater kid and was embarrassed by it when was younger but now with all the hype she doesn't hide it any more

Watched all the Total Drama seasons and hated Chris McLean in all of them, was kinds disappointed that he didn't stayed at jail for a longer time

Even though se tries to hide it, she can't forget and forgive what her father did to her mother on the Total Drama World Tour

Gwen is actually her godmother and they're very close to the point that Pacifica rather ask her advices then her mother

𝐵. 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

He/They; Trans man; Gay; 18 years old

Don't let the smell of weed deceive you, he's actually the smartest kids on his class and is always seen competing with Pacifica to see who has the best grades

Don't let Courtney know it, but his spanish is the worst

Has a tramp stamp that he did it when he was really drunk, that day also coincides with the first time that he ever drank

Dreams on being a famous violinist but unfortunately has stage freight

Always had support of his family when it comes to his transition, but still doesn't feel comfortable to tell everyone about being trans

Has a terrible taste in men to the point the everyone in the family makes fun of it

Just like his sister, he hates Chris but contrary to popular belief he dreams on participating the show

When was younger Duncan tried to teach him wood craft, but Jack gave up because he's to anxious for that

Hates how over protective Pacifica is with him that's why is so common seeing him doing reckless things

༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

𝐈𝐈. 𝐃𝐣𝐰𝐞𝐧 (𝐃𝐉 + 𝐆𝐰𝐞𝐧)

I blame this one on all the Duncney fanfics on AO3, I didn't even know they were a couple but now I'm obsessed with their dynamic (sorry Trent)

୬ 𓈒 ⊹ ა𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 & 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑒

He/They; demissexual; 16 years old

The purest boy you will ever met

Too shy for his own good

Has an amazing relationship with animals just like his father, and wants to be an veterinarian just like him

His love language is quality time, so if he starts to hang a lot with you and makes sure you're always close that means he likes you, like a lot

Is kinda ashamed of his tooth gap and that's why he avoids smiling so much

Is the baby of the family, and even though he tries to deny it, he lover all the pampering and protection especially from his brother since they are so close

Has a belly button piercing, which is a surprise to everyone since he's very afraid of needles

Knows how to play guitar since Gwen and Tyler became friends again after the end of the show, to the point both boys love their 'uncle' Tyler

Became vegan at early age since his father had the habit of taking him to work during school vacation and with that he developed a big bond with all the animals

𝐵. 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

He/him; straight; 18 years old

Despeite the ''ogre" personlity, Alexander s know to be very good with words and feelings, so it's very common to him to write letters and poems to those he really likes

Also has a tooth gap, but since he doesn't smile or laugh a lot most people don't know it

Knows how to speak german, italian and spanish and plans to learn even more languages

Was very close to his grandmother, all he knows about cooking was thanks to her and people can say that the last time he cried was at her funereal

The necklace he wears was a presente from his mother on his 15th birthday and it's the only jewelry that he will ever wear, at least that what's he says

Overprotective with his brother, to the point that doesn't matter where the youngest go he will be there, but that also doesn't mean he don't like to mess with Theo, it's actually his favorite hobby especially because the boy believes in everything he says

May not look like it, but os very competitive to the point he will sacrifice everything to win

Doesn't addmit it not even to his brother, bur his favorite singer is Taylor Swift

Became vegan because of his brother, not in the meaning his brother convinced him to become vegan but because he felt bad eating even meat in front of him

༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 (𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨 + 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫)

୬ 𓈒 ⊹ ა𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢́𝐚 𝐈𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐚

She/They; Bisexual; 17 years old

If there's something that everyone expects from Imelda is that she gonna cause some chaos, and those people are absolutely right, after all you can't expect other thing from the daughter of Alejandro and Heather

Loves ballet since she was a kid and has plans to become a professional ballet dancer

If she ever starts to speak in spanish with you, that means she is really mad and is going to destroy you in every way possible

Smokes when is really stressed, but tries to avoid it because doesn't want to end up all gross when she gets older

Even tho she loves ballet Imelda also knows it's ruining her mental health and body image, but she knows is a small price to pay so she hides it from everyone

Acts really tough but it's actually scared of the dark

Others ballerinas become chain smokers but Imelda became addicted to caffeine, to the point she can't go through the day without at least five cups of coffee

Had a lot of pets growing up, but the one she really loves is her pet snake Audrey, which she named after her favorite actress

Wanted to have brothers when she was younger but seeing the relationship her father had with his brothers mas her give up of the idea

[jeannereames]

Why is it that certain sensationalist trivias, still get peddled by professional historians as absolute truths? Like the Caranus debacle. PG's Alexander of Macedon, despite being an excellent account, still mentions the Caranus + Europa double alleged BBQfication. Even though, the timeline&Caranus' unicorn name, reek of myth? Or Stateira getting long distance impregnated by Darius (though Green suggests in fine print that Alexander raped her). What makes a historical tale more or less credible?

A Brief Summary of Important Modern Alexander Scholars

First, I’d caution that we look at when some of these books and articles were written. While the more recent version of Green’s Alexander of Macedon (U. Cal, Berkeley) is 1991, it’s a reprint of his much earlier Thames-and-Hudson bio from 1974, sans pictures. (Also, Green—who’s still alive and kicking!—is 97 this year, so that contextualizes his age.) A general critique of Peter for a while now (as far back as From Alexander to Actium) is that he’s not on top of the more recent publications in the field, which causes some of his conclusions to be dated. Many older scholars can be guilty of that. I can’t even keep up with everything coming out on Alexander and/or Philip and/or Macedonia each year, especially as more and more are in languages I don’t read, such as Italian or Spanish. Even my German is shaky.

OTOH, the proliferation of academic publications in various languages is great, as it signals a healthy field. OTOH, it’s problematic, as most people just don’t read multiple languages, and what languages might have been fashionable back in grad school has shifted since. Additionally, Americans are at a real disadvantage due to our very poor education system here when it comes to learning languages (Spanish aside)—unless one is wealthy enough to attend private schools. And that’s a topic for a different post about elite education in Classics, and the language barrier.

But the upshot is that, while older scholars often gain real breadth of knowledge that allows connections and conclusions younger scholars just can’t make yet, it can become harder to keep up with everything coming out, on top of teaching and service requirements at universities. I’d love to have more time to read the latest—but I can’t and get all my student papers graded, attend all the meetings I have to go to, prep new classes, learn online platforms, etc., etc.

One reason we try to protect pre-tenure faculty from undue service IS so they can write/publish (and do the reading required). Post-tenure, All That Other Stuff starts demanding our time. Way back in grad school, Gene Borza told me, “You will never have read so widely and know as much about a particular slice of the field than you do right now.” I thought he was joking. I know a lot more now than I knew then, to be sure—but feel perpetually behind on recent research.

Anyway, I mention the publication date because history is an ever-developing field. We can talk about Alexander studies as a series of “waves,” if you will. The initial wave viewed Alexander very positively, starting with Droysen (late 1800s), through Tarn, Burns, Milns, Robinson, some others, down into the 1960s and early ‘70s. Hammond was kinda the last of them, who published well into the ‘90s, also arguably Hamilton (although I see him as less forgiving). But this was the Great Man approach. Sources were taken mostly at face value, including Greek views of the Macedonians, with a distinct taste for colonialist narratives such as Plutarch (the Greek “civilizing” of the Barbarian East, etc.). Hammond, however, was among those who seriously questioned Greek views of Macedonians…even while he accepted other things uncritically.

So, in short, these are not absolutely separate buckets. Just general trends.

The next wave brought the Skeptics, engendered by Badian, Schachermeyer, Fredericksmeyer, Green, etc. It still had a fair bit of unconscious colonialist (and misogynistic) taint but began to do much more rigorous source criticism. Maybe ol’ Alexander wasn’t so great, after all. I think of Ian Worthington as still in that vein—Hammond’s flip side. Ha. (Which is funny as Ian edited Nick’s festschrift [a collection of papers in honor of a person]. But Hammond was a legend in his lifetime. Regardless of whether one agrees with everything he wrote, his impact on Macedonian history simply can’t be overestimated. I don’t think anybody, ever again, will [or can] have that sort of influence, given how the field has grown.)

Anyway, around the same time, Macedonian studies (and Philip) were opening as a field in their own right, thanks to Edson and Dell—and Hammond—followed by Borza, Errington, Ellis, Cawkwell, Walbank (Hellenistic), and Greeks like Hatzopoulos and Palagia, then Greenwalt, Anson, Adams, Heckel, Carney, Baynham, Atkinson, etc.

(I’m leaving out names, I’m sure, as I’m doing this on the fly without my library at hand, so apologies.)

Anyway, these things dovetailed to give us some new perspectives, including an attempt to detangle Macedonia from S. Greece, and to spot the misogyny behind texts (thank you, Carney and MacCurdy, et al.), and generally to think further about matters of culture and textual context.

I was a grad student at the back end of that wave, btw.

The “new”(-ish) wave(s?) have been to further contextualize our sources, not just to separate Greek from Macedonian, or to seek the sources behind our extant biographies, but to better recognize the Roman (imperial) overlay. It’s not that earlier historians didn’t know our existing sources were Roman era, but that the focus had been on trying to determine the sources behind our surviving sources: e.g., Kallisthenes, Kleitarchos, Ptolemy, Aristobulos, etc. Lionel Pearson’s The Lost Historians of Alexander the Great was the classic text of that type. What Pearson (and others) did less was talk about contemporary (Roman) influences on our surviving authors.

This new wave includes scholars like Asirvatham, Müller, Ogden, Bowden, Spencer, Pownall, Howe, Finn, etc., etc. There’s also good work being done on military stuff, following Heckel. They’re very much into the textual evidence. Also Carney still, and Baynham. So these are new trends in Alexander historiography.

A feature of this third/fourth wave has been to pick apart some heretofore accepted stories—such as, say, proskynesis. Or the story of Statiera mentioned in the Ask. You’ll see that new take in the forthcoming Netflix docudrama. Alexander isn’t so hands-off. Although I don’t think it was rape so much as Realpolitik, once it became clear Darius had abandoned his family to their fate. And maybe not even Alexander’s idea. 😉

We saw such questioning even in the second/early third wave. Take Karanos. That’s been questioned by Borza, Carney, Greenwalt, et al. BUT Greenwalt has really interesting things to say about the evolving genealogy of the Argead house across time, with morphing forefathers, depending on who the king was. So we get Perdikkas under Alexandros I and Perdikkas “II,” then an Archelaos under Archelaos (Euripides’ lost play), and finally, Karanos under Philip II (or post-Philip). Jonathan Hall in (et al.) Hellenicities talks about the creation of these falsified genealogies in ancient Greece as a means to build and (re-)affirm bonds for political, military, and trade purposes. These things don’t stay the same across time.

The upshot remains that it’s important to check the publication date for any particular book or article, and be sure it’s the original publication, too. Again, the 1991 Univ. of Cal, Berkeley edition of Alexander of Macedon = the 1974 Thames and Hudson’s book of the same title. (If you Google it, you’ll find the “originally published” date, btw.) In short, he wrote it before most people had begun to question the finer points of Kleopatra-Eurydike’s murder by Olympias. OR before so much doubt had been thrown on Justin as a source. (Just wait for the chapter by Carney in the work I’m currently editing. She’s going to trash and burn OH, so much of Trogus/Justin. I’ll give no more spoilers, but yeah. It’s a long, but very good chapter on historiography.)

So publishing date is one thing to look at.

The other is WHO did the writing.

There’s always been a small cottage industry in publishing on Alexander, but quite a few bios have come out recently by people who aren’t Macedonian specialists, or even (sometimes) trained Greek historians (Everitt, I’m looking at you).* Even Goldsworthy’s dual bio, which formed the basis of the recent History Channel episode, was written by a Romanist, albeit he’s known for his military topics. Paul Cartledge, who also wrote a popular bio on ATG, is a specialist on Sparta. Some scholars are one-foot-in, like Carol Thomas, who did Alexander and His World (2006). She knows more about Macedonia due to personal contacts, but her area of serious scholarship is the Dark Age/Early Archaic Age (= Early Iron Age).

So, yes, it’s really important to ask, Who wrote the book/article I’m reading? How deep are they into scholarship on ancient Macedonia/Alexander/Philip II, etc.

The latest bios of Alexander by actual Alexander specialists are Sabine Müller’s Alexander Der Grosse: Eroberungen - Politik – Rezeption (2019), Franca Landucci’s Alessandro Magno (2019), Hugh Bowden’s Alexander the Great, a very short introduction (2014), Edward Anson’s Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues (2013), Lindsay Adams Alexander the Great: Legacy of a Conqueror (2005), and Ian Worthington’s Alexander the Great: Man and God (2004) and the later By the Spear, which includes Phil, too (2016). (Ed Anson also did Philip II, Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues, 2020.) I've probably missed one, so apologize in advance. Again...library is in my office.

If you want to read a biography of Alexander, read a couple of those.

I’ve thought more seriously of late about writing my own biography, intended for non-specialists (e.g., without footnotes but with “for further reading”). Many of these by my colleagues have been textbooks, like Lindsay’s and Ed’s. I’d be more inclined to write it for the interested non-specialist. But I’d have to find a publisher, and I wouldn’t even seriously consider it until this Hephaistion & Krateros book is done.

Also, I might have a hard time selling “yet another” biography on Alexander, especially if it’s not dripping with drama and/or cherished myth and/or doesn’t try to paint Alexander as either a god or a monster.

Or maybe THAT could be the selling point. “This is the biography by a specialist that brings the interested reader up to date on the latest scholarship regarding Alexander, Philip, and Argead Macedonia, but does it in layman’s language, and isn’t a college textbook.”

---------------------

*You may wonder why publishers buy books from historians who aren’t Macedonian specialists? Well, sometimes they want that. Carol wrote hers precisely because she’s not a specialist, but had contacts who were, and therefore was thought to be better at breaking it all down for students. Other publishers want the sensationalist stuff, or a “new angle” (which is rarely actually new).