#oh right im in fucking high school

[1seaweedbrain1]

"oh dont be so hard on them theyre only 17" SO AM I DO YOU SEE ME PULLING THAT SHIT? NO

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the school arc to me is so good because it drags ciel out of his position as a powerful figure and literally places him in the shoes of the person he could have been. the circus arc ALSO drags him out of his position as big bad queens watch dog/head of the phantomhive estate but the school arc feels like a mockery of a future that never was. this is what he could have been had his parents not died. and even then its NOT because he will never be that kid.

he never was.

[jackass-jones]

Really into the episode of Ouran where this girl confesses her love to Mori but he doesn’t feel the same because he’s into Honey and the girl’s reaction is just like YIPPEE I LOVE YAOI THATS SO COOL FOR YOU YAY 🥰

[every-captain]

everyone has to like my fanfiction or i'll die...

why am i so sensitive about my writing in a way that I am not about art. I'm not good at art and i'm gonna be at peace with this. But the writing.... I'm not good at that either but i say that without an ounce of peace in my heart.

[britneyshakespeare]

Yesterday at the high school I was in for this art teacher and they all had like projects they were gonna present to work on in Google classroom, so like many days as a substitute teacher it was quiet and I mostly just sat at the desk and read. But then this one kid in my peripheral vision was looking at me and when I glanced over her laughed a little. And I looked away cuz I was like whatever maybe he was whispering smth w his friends.

But then he says "I have a question"

"Yeah?"

"What two colors make purple?"

"Oh. Red and blue"

"Thank you... I appreciate the no judgment answer"

I didn't even think about it lol

[lapdogchase]

thought i hated this one girl just cuz her vibes are off but i just remembered something like actually awful she said the other day so nvm my hatred is justified actually

[milkstoner]

I don't have an insta 😔

I do have to respect that honestly.

[fardf150]

fuck

[analogboii]

got a fucking group of chucklefucks in my lobby rn just standing around and eating like this is their damn living room. they all posted up by the patio door, and just...standing around like huh??? sirs, this is a fucking lobby sit your ass down and have a table convo like normal fucking people.

theres like three families and they all know each other apparently. just shouting at each other, their kids listening to their shows on their phones as loud as itll go, just taking up all the space in the lobby.

not to mention, my driver had his book on a table with his backpack and tje people just SAT THEIR SHIT DOWN IN TOP OF EVERYTHING?? LIKE THERES OTHER PLACES??? AND YOURE NOT EVEN USING THE TABLE????

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[kraviolis]

if i had to guess, i’d estimate that only about 1/3 of all the fanfiction i’ve written has been posted.

[bitegore]

They're NEVER making another guy like me

[duck-in-a-spaceship]

Easily my fav chapter, hope you all enjoy!

<&lt;Prev - Next >>

+++

Chapter 3: Poetry Recommendations

Weights tugged on Todd’s eyelids, gravity pulling his head towards the welcoming wood of his desk. His arms sat in front of him, one folded on top of the other to resemble a truly tempting pillow. Maybe this would finally be the period he could nap without interruption, without a teacher kicking the leg of his desk, or rapping a ruler across his skull. Keating was nice, he would understand, he would-

“On your feet, boys!”

The idle chatter in the classroom came to a stop as the bell rang and Keating, standing by the door, loudly announced his presence. Heads turned to him as some of the students rose to their feet, one by one, in a sort of hesitant ripple. Todd stayed in his seat, silently hoping that if enough people stood up in front of him, he might just be able to avoid detection all the way on the other side of the classroom.

“Come on!” Keating urged them. “I’m not just over here for the theatrics of it all. Everyone grab your notebooks, you can leave Mr. J. Evans Pritchard behind. We’ll be spending the day outside today.” With that, he disappeared out the door.

The boys rose to their feet with the clattering and pencils and pens, notebooks being gathered from bags and chairs pushed away from desks. Todd rose much more slowly. Lazy, clumsy fingers gathered his things, and by the time he was ready to go, nearly everyone else was already out of the classroom. Only the poets hovered by the door, messing around with each other with playful shoves and laughter.

“You coming, Todd?” Meeks asked, his pen tapping against the doorframe impatiently.

“Yeah, come on Toddy, Keating’s already out the door by now, could be halfway to China for all we know!” Charlie added, gesturing with his notebook down the hallway. Neil grinned, and gave him a playful thwack with his own book.

“Cut it out, Char, give him a second. I don’t think Keating is going to abandon us.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Todd apologized, heading over towards them. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

Neil slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Oh don’t worry about it, we’ll catch up,” he assured Todd, flashing one of those winning smiles that made Todd have to look away, just to avoid being blinded.

“Come on, dead poets!” Charlie called, leading the way down the hall, earning him an urgent shush from Cameron. They all trailed after him with varying levels of amusement, but Todd found himself surprised when Neil hung behind to walk with him, letting his feet trail against the old, tarnished floors.

He watched Neil bite his lip, thoughtfully chewing on the skin. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked suddenly.

Todd looked up at him, not bothering to hide his surprise. “I mean, uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well you just… you seemed a little out of it all day. Already got you yelled at by Mr. Raulkin. I wouldn’t want someone else getting on your case if you aren’t okay, yeah?”

“Oh, well I’m fine. Just… just tired after last night, I guess.”

Neil smiled, leaning in towards Todd conspiratorially, so their foreheads nearly touched. A bit of Neil’s hair flipped over and brushed against Todd’s face as he tried, for some goddamn reason, to hold his breath. “Well,” Neil whispered. “Two nights a week of Dead Poets meetings will do that to you.” He pulled away from Todd with a lopsided smile on his face, and if Todd finished walking down the hallway on wobbly legs, well, he decided he could just blame that on the lack of sleep.

+++

It was cool outside, the autumn air that was slowly meandering towards winter leaving a chilled touch on Todd’s face. A little colder might have woken him up a little more; a slap of winter to the face could have made up for a couple hours of lost sleep. Instead, all Todd did was shove his hands deep in his pockets, and wait for the warmth of the sun to make it to his bones.

The others were already waiting for them when they arrived, standing just on the edge of the forest, surrounded by the golden glow of fall-coated leaves. Keating beckoned them over as they approached, waving an arm towards them. “Come on now boys, there’ll be plenty of time for enjoying the scenery in a bit,” he called.

“We’re coming Keating, we were just catching up with old Cam here, couldn’t find his pencil!” Charlie shouted, which earned him a shove from the ever-prepared Cameron as he broke out into a jog. The rest of the poets sped up as well, even Neil going into sort of a half-jog to catch up to his friends. Only Todd lingered behind, not interrupting his slow meandering pace.

Keating waited for Todd, for some reason, which made his face heat up with embarrassment as soon as he realized. Fuck, had they all just been watching him? Todd felt the chilled fall air turn against him, rushing with warmth as a flush traveled up his neck. He came to a stop next to Neil and wondered if he could effectively hide behind him. Unfortunately a quick moment of eye contact with Keating revealed the faults in that plan.

“Two roads-” Keating announced loudly, clapping his hands together loud enough that Todd jumped. “-diverged in a yellow wood.” A sweeping arm brought their attention to the forest behind them.

“Looks like more than two roads, Mr. Keating!” someone piped up, from somewhere Todd couldn’t see. It was one of the boys that had a talent for making stupid comments, tossed them at teachers like flies so they could watch them swat them off and laugh at the funny flailing. Todd found those types of boys annoying, and a little intimidating, but Keating was much better at catching flies than he was.

“Well of course!” Mr. Keating exclaimed. “Gosh, halfway through the year and I haven’t taught you not to always take poetry so literally? I didn’t realize I had failed you all so.” He delivered the lines with a smile, and was rewarded with scattered laughter. “No, Hopkins, Robert Frost did not literally mean that there are only two paths cutting through every wood, nor did he mean to imply there are only two roads to travel in life. In truth, there are many ways your lives will take you- a litany of paths that you only have to be bold enough to walk down.”

He clapped his hands together, and Todd silently applauded his complete lack of a reaction. “Now! Today you will be choosing your own paths. I want you to find something around you and write about it, simple at that. I must implore you not to wander too far, but other than that, the world is your oyster. Channel your inner John Keats, your William Wordsworth and, yes, your Robert Frost. When you get back, we’ll be comparing your works with some of the biggies. Go on now! Choose your roads!”

The class took off in a flurry of movement, a flock of birds in the woods exploding into flight at the sudden approach of a deer. Todd was surrounded by squawking beaks and fluttering feathers in a array so dizzying to his tired mind that he could hardly keep up with it. Charlie was pulling Neil away and then Meeks was tapping his shoulder and telling him to follow and Cameron was trailing behind them and making sure Todd knew he shouldn’t feel he had to come, but they’d be pleased to have him, of course.

And then they were mostly gone.

Todd sat down in the grass.

It was springy underneath him, a woven bed of little hands reaching towards each other, linking together to make a plush seat. Little stalks reached out and brushed against his ankles, tickling the hairs on his legs. Todd watched as his classmates wandered off into other parts of the forest, stopping to peel the bark off of the trees or pick up beetles that wandered through the leaves.

He thought he heard the poets talking about finding a stream to visit, and he imagined Meeks and Pitts scooping up minnows from the water, or Charlie pretending he was going to shove Knox in the mud, or Neil collecting shiny rocks to show to Cameron, who would find a spot to perch and write. Todd probably would have joined him, but he felt it was probably too late to get up now.

The sun was bright, and just warm enough to keep him comfortable. The grass was soft, and just green enough to catch his eye. The scene was quiet enough, even with-

“Mr. Anderson.”

Ah shit.

Todd looked up hesitantly, trying to not make eye contact, while trying not to avoid it either. It was a tricky balance.

Keating sat crouched in the grass beside him, slightly squinting in the sunlight, and the moment Todd saw him, his brain took off running with excuses like a startled cat. He was just about to open his notebook, he was making whatever bullshit statement Charlie was during the walking exercise, he was just fucking tired, he needed a break, he didn’t want to-

“Mind if I join you?”

Todd nodded, sort of a small, faintly there thing, and then again with a bit more vigor, so he could be sure Keating recognized the gesture. Keating nodded in return, before settling down next to him, cross-legged on the ground. Todd swallowed thickly, and tried to ignore the growing unease buried in its chest. His heart pecked at his ribcage like a trapped bird, and god did he want to let it out.

“You know-” Keating finally started after the seconds of silence had stretched on too long. “-I figured you’d want to join the rest of your crew. I heard some very exciting talk about a visit to a stream.”

Todd pulled a handful of grass up from the roots, stalks splitting and tearing between his fingers. “Oh, uh, yeah, I heard that too… I thought I’d just stay back.”

Keating raised an eyebrow, and Todd got the subtle sense that he had said something wrong. Not in the usual sense where he was going to get in trouble for it, but in the Keating sense where he was about to whip out a magnifying glass and shove Todd under the lens. He swallowed thickly, and ran his nails down the stalks of grass. Plant matter caked under his fingernails.

“Really? Any particular reason?”

“Uh, no, not- not really.” He rubbed his hand on his sweater, trying to wipe away the grass. It didn’t really work. “I think I’m just… tired.”

Keating hummed thoughtfully. “Just tired, then? Nothing else to get off your chest?”

Todd shook his head, and silently prayed he could get through the rest of this conversation without any more words. Maybe someone could interrupt, one of the poets could fall in the stream and suddenly need attention. That would be nice. It might even get rid of the warm prickling behind Todd’s eyes that had made an appearance without him really even knowing why.

“Well, if you ever need anything-”

“Do you have any poetry recommendations?” Todd blurted out.

A leaf crumpled in his hands.

Keating raised an eyebrow, successfully stopped in his tracks (which Todd supposed was what he’s been trying to do), and Todd suddenly felt the need to explain himself.

“Well, because- I mean…” He cut himself off, tore some more grass from the ground, and tried to regroup. “I was just looking for something new to read.”

Keating smiled, got that sort of twinkle in his eye as he picked up the book he had placed next to him. “Do you know what poem inspired our outing today?”

Todd blinked at him for a moment, processing the question along with his successful topic change. “Um, The Road Not Taken, right?”

“Indeed,” Keating confirmed with a nod, flipping through the thick book in front of him. “Robert Frost. ‘Two roads diverged in the wood and I / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference,’” he quoted as he found the right page and pushed the book towards Todd. “It’s very much in the spirit of carpe diem, wouldn’t you say? Choosing your path in life- even when it seems unpopular or wrong.”

Todd shrugged, silently hoping that this marked the conclusion to Keating’s lesson- a book delivered, a point proven. The words washed right over him anyway; they probably applied to just about everyone but him. “I don’t really choose a lot of paths.” Another fistful of grass was pulled up, blades knotting between Todd’s fingers. “Didn’t even go and join everyone else, just stayed here.” He tried for a laugh, which came out too soft to really have an effect. Todd cleared his throat.

“Oh, bullshit,” Keating said, and Todd was forced to look up at him in surprise. “You can’t avoid choice, Todd. Even if you stand still on that road, even if you set up camp and refuse to move, you have made a choice. Sure, you stayed behind while your classmates wandered about; that was your choice. But don’t think it wasn’t a unique one, and certainly don’t think it lacked value.”

Didn’t it? was all Todd could think. How much value could sitting in the grass while everyone else ran around and explored really have?

‘Mr. Anderson thinks everything inside him is worthless.’

But it wasn’t even that, Todd thought everything he did was worthless too. None of it mattered, none of it could matter, when there were so many people doing anything, everything he did, but so much better. Todd ran his thumb over the corner of the page. “It’s a good poem,” was all he could think to say.

Keating smiled. “It certainly is.” He flipped the corner of the page over into a dog-ear that Todd’s fingers immediately itched to fix, and closed the book over it. “Hopefully, that has just what you need.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I hope so,” he agreed haltingly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Mr. Anderson,” Keating said as he stood up. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, I believe you have an assignment to be working on.”

“Oh, right. Um, yes sir.”

With that, Keating walked away, likely to monitor the rest of his class. Todd silently tucked the poetry book under his own paper, carefully filling the page with words about the grass that sat caked underneath his fingernails.

[phoebespenglers]

and on that note that if your activism involves guilt tripping people and telling them that they're a horrible irredeemable person for not vocally supporting your cause or horrible for needing a break and putting their mental health first: shut the fuck up.

[sosquaresowhat]

Yo what the fuuuuck happened to my friends?

Obvi if you can see this it's not you, you're still lovely <3 this is about old work and college friends