Story cover for Basket Case by loe_1968
Basket Case
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  • WpHistory
    Time 13m
  • WpView
    Reads 10
  • WpVote
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  • WpPart
    Parts 5
  • WpHistory
    Time 13m
Ongoing, First published Mar 29, 2025
Mature
Bea is an English newly qualified teacher who has moved to America to teach in a completely different school to the ones in the United Kingdom. She loves teaching; however, she hates her job as the students have no respect for her or the subjects that she is teaching. Her best friend takes her out to a nightclub to cheer her up, and Bea meets a mysterious lead singer of a band that has a strange connection to her and the school, already without realising it.
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Be Quiet by PrivateAIe
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When troubled student Mallory Valentine is caught by the eye of her new music teacher Mr Armstrong, her life becomes surprisingly and quickly messy. Taking on the challenge to teach her at a subject she is aimlessly failing at can seem so much more impossible when she simply doesn't care. "Y'know its your future that's going down the drain here, not mine." He smirked over at me. Tapping the end of his pen on the piece of paper covered in scrawly hand writing, which was an attempt at the task he given me earlier. "Then why are you trying so hard to teach me?" I smirked back, watching his slowly drop. "Because its my job," he stated bluntly, his smug facial expression long gone as his emotionless eyes dropped on to me. the bags under them definitely made him look like some sort of dead undead creature. "Well Mr Armstrong I'm sure my brilliance at this subject will come to me at some point." I Bitterly smiled snatching my sheet back from off his desk. He dreaded teaching me as much as I dreaded being in his class, but the tension between us was only starting to get fun. "Good things come to those who wait," "Oh yeah? Well I'm not the patient type Miss Valentine," "I've noticed and noted, as to why it'll take a while to come to me," "You're a nightmare to teach," "Not to sound too egotistical Mr Armstrong but I do believe I'm probably the funnest nightmare you'll ever experience," "Is a fun nightmare not a dream?" "Not at all. Nightmares are fun for the nightmare... not the one experiencing it," He sighed loudly as I watched him bite away a smirk. "Go sit down. stay still and pay the lesson some attention. And for the love of God be quiet."
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Woodstock, 1994. 
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 Something real. [completed - fka castaway] [started 2015, rewrite x2] 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: This book contains strong language, alcohol and drug use, sexual content, mental health struggles, and references to suicide and suicidal thoughts. Reader discretion is advised. 𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧: This story takes place in the '90s. While the timeline of tours, releases, and events may not be perfectly accurate, care was taken to keep it as close to reality as possible. 
All original characters and storylines are the intellectual property of the author. This excludes the real life figures of Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tré Cool, who are used here in a fictional context. I do not claim ownership of any music referenced. Plagiarism will not be tolerated. If you suspect
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Be Quiet

45 parts Complete

When troubled student Mallory Valentine is caught by the eye of her new music teacher Mr Armstrong, her life becomes surprisingly and quickly messy. Taking on the challenge to teach her at a subject she is aimlessly failing at can seem so much more impossible when she simply doesn't care. "Y'know its your future that's going down the drain here, not mine." He smirked over at me. Tapping the end of his pen on the piece of paper covered in scrawly hand writing, which was an attempt at the task he given me earlier. "Then why are you trying so hard to teach me?" I smirked back, watching his slowly drop. "Because its my job," he stated bluntly, his smug facial expression long gone as his emotionless eyes dropped on to me. the bags under them definitely made him look like some sort of dead undead creature. "Well Mr Armstrong I'm sure my brilliance at this subject will come to me at some point." I Bitterly smiled snatching my sheet back from off his desk. He dreaded teaching me as much as I dreaded being in his class, but the tension between us was only starting to get fun. "Good things come to those who wait," "Oh yeah? Well I'm not the patient type Miss Valentine," "I've noticed and noted, as to why it'll take a while to come to me," "You're a nightmare to teach," "Not to sound too egotistical Mr Armstrong but I do believe I'm probably the funnest nightmare you'll ever experience," "Is a fun nightmare not a dream?" "Not at all. Nightmares are fun for the nightmare... not the one experiencing it," He sighed loudly as I watched him bite away a smirk. "Go sit down. stay still and pay the lesson some attention. And for the love of God be quiet."