*will have a collection of children*

iwasapruneratfaverolles  asked:

PLEASE TELL THE CHILDREN THE STORY OF MS. STUBELS

Grace fuck, why would you invoke her name like that???

Okay, fine, gather round children, buckle up because we’re going on a bumpy ride back to everyone’s collective least favorite place: 7th grade.

Some background: I went to a very small Catholic school. One class per grade (we were the largest with 19 kids), everyone knew each other whether they wanted to or not. Despite basically every teacher and faculty members insistence that we were The Best And Most Special Class In The School and that everyone loved having us, the longstanding 7th grade teacher Mrs. O’Hara decided to retire in the summer of 2008, meaning the school had to find us a new teacher for the upcoming year. This would be like, the first new teacher in the school in a while, and as she was getting the ‘best class’, it was viewed as a Big Deal. Somewhere in like July or August we got a letter announcing Mrs. Stubel, and it came with a list of books to pick for the summer reading, and that was basically all the information we had.

So…the first day of class. She seems nice enough. Very…ditsy, I guess? It was very easy for her to get herself off topic while talking. She constantly paced around the room, never staying in one spot for longer than a second, complaining she has restless leg syndrome. Which like, I’m sure she did, but she was in the middle of introducing herself and then went on a 20 minute tangent about restless leg syndrome without anyone prompting her. It was almost like you could see her scattered thoughts flying around her head.

So anyone, she eventually gives somewhat of an introduction- she had only taught in public schools before, and kept worrying she ‘didn’t know’ how to teach in a Catholic school despite the entire class insisting literally nothing was different, you just teach the curriculum, twice a week we have religion class with Sister Mary King, that’s literally it (she still talked over us in worry), she told us about her kids, she told us about her obsession with Emily Dickinson, stuff like that.

And then she hands us this worksheet.

She’s like, “Oh, these are just some basic questions for you to answer! Just so I can get to know you guys better!” like in lieu of an icebreaker game, which is fine, but…the questions. The questions were all “What is your most haunting fear?”, “What is your deepest regret?”, “Have you ever experienced the pain of loss?”, “What was your worst injury?”, “What was your worst nightmare?”, all questions like that, and then on the back she wanted us to draw a gravestone and write out what we wanted our epitaph to be.

We were twelve year olds, mind you.

Oh my God and one girl missed the first day because of her grandmother’s funeral, so when she came the next day and saw what the teacher was insisting she do for homework, she almost had a panic attack? And the lady still made her do it? Literally who wants to think about death anymore at a time like that omfg.

Okay, so then we get to the summer reading book reports, right? Now, she had given a list of maybe, 20 books that you could pick from, read it, and then present an oral report on it. You had to have notecards and you had to be able to answer questions from the class at the end. All in all, I’ve had worse projects.

So, on this list, she apparently put Madeleine L’Engle’s entire book series on the list…only she did not make it known that this was a series and not multiple stand alone books, so when reports started up it caused mass-panic of kids trying to put together plot points and make connections on what the hell they had read.

I was the only kid in the class who had chosen to read “A Wrinkle In Time”, and that has since lead to a series of events that…really actually scares me, I’m still incredibly freaked out, I’m not going to get into it right now because it’ll take away from the current story, but just know that I’m not above wondering if it only happened because I read the book for Stubel.

Anyway, so like, I got through the report okay. The class asking questions about it was fine, but the teacher kept asking questions that didn’t make sense, like, at all. My friend Angie has always had super neat handwriting and Mrs. Stubel got like, obsessed with her notecards and asked if she could borrow them for something. When we got our grades back a few weeks later, Angie had points taken off for not having notecards.

And then her teaching just…didn’t happen. She’d never stay on a topic, she’d always get herself distracted! We were not learning anything. And like, this wasn’t a class of advanced smart kids that loved to learn. By all accounts we should’ve been thrilled. But it got out of hand. It got to points where we had to start teaching lessons to ourselves, asking teacher from other grades for help, always coming home in tears, complaining constantly to our parents and the principal because this woman wasn’t teaching us anything. There were two kids who asked her multiple times for extra help, and she told them each time to ‘talk to me after school’, but then she’d leave immediately after school so they wouldn’t be able to talk to her. They finally brought up the issue in the middle of class and she had a breakdown, yelling about how nobody ever thinks that maybe the teacher has a lot of work to do, and maybe she’s entitled to taking off early, but when we tried to argue she shouldn’t schedule meetings and then break them off in the name of relaxation, she stormed out of the room and tried to get the principal to give us detention. (Which, like, our school didn’t even do, and she was the only one in the wrong during this situation) We are still in September at this point, and already at least ten kids have parents considering transferring them to another school. (And remember, there was only 19 of us, and most of the class had been together since preschool, so that was a big deal).

Then, she starts coming in with all the weird bruises. All the Moms™ immediately started gossiping that her husband had to be beating her, and that’s why she was so screwy in the head. But the way she talked about her husband made it seem like he *might* be dead, and we actually did witness her fall and smack her head into a doorknob once, so no one really knew what to believe. (Also, I’m not trying to imply that abuse would make someone crazy or ‘damaged’ or anything, this is just what was being said. I think they were trying to turn her into a more sympathetic character, because if you feel sorry for her you don’t have to hate her for frustrating your kids so much, and Hate Is A Bad Emotion.)

Also…this woman and Emily Dickinson.

She talked about Emily Dickinson every chance she could get. None of us knew who Emily Dickinson really was before she got there and you could see in her mind it was a capitol offense. She found out the curriculum didn’t have room to cover her (because like, we had a text book), and was way too upset about it. She started reading her poems whenever she found the time (usually somewhere in history class), and always gave us very detailed accounts about her dressing up as Emily and reading her poetry at the library.

Now, two things to note here:

  1. The library did not hire her to do this. She would literally just get in the mood, put on an Emily Dickinson costume that she made by herself, drive to different libraries, and just read poetry out loud to everyone there until someone eventually asked her to leave.
  2. The way she described these events…her tone, the look on her face, her posture…you could just tell that she was getting some sort of sexual gratification out of this? Like dressing up as Emily Dickinson in public and reading her sad poems is really what got this lady’s jollies rocking? Got her all hot and bothered? Which is…a lot, but why would you tell a bunch of seventh graders about it holy shit. What about that sounds like a good idea! What about that turns you back on!

So anyway, we learned a lot about Emily Dickinson against our will.

One of the Davids™ was reading a book for pleasure- which shouldn’t have been a shocker, a lot of kids always had books on them, but Stubel got really interested and asked if she could borrow it from him. He was like ‘sure, after I finish it?’ but she took it that day. He asked her for it back for like five weeks straight.

And…the strudels.

Okay, so the school was trying some dorky thing to promote ~togetherness~ or some virtue or something, I don’t remember the specifics of why, but each class had to make a huge themed poster and hang it on the wall outside the classroom. Which was like, whatever, not the most thrilling project but at least it allowed us to be productive vs just sitting there as the teacher runs about the room rambling about her family vacation from four years ago. Mrs. Stubel decided we needed a quirky nickname and after like three days of deliberation we were christened “Stubel’s Special Strudels”!

(points for alliteration or whatever, but no one actually voted for that and what exactly do strudels have to do with Catholicism? It became a big running joke amongst the kids)

Also, in case you were wondering, she didn’t explain the assignment correctly to us- so every other class had like these beautiful, artistic, well-themed and put together posters, while ours was just…literally a bunch of shit thrown together on paper. Nothing fit with each other, it was literally embarrassing to look at.

But then…she wouldn’t drop the strudel thing. Like she kept bringing it up. She got really into strudels and would just tell us random shit about them. Finally, someone jokes that we should get strudels one day for a party (like instead of a pizza party), and she’s Freaking Out and On Board. She really wants to buy us strudels and have a breakfast party now. She talked about it for like two days straight.

So like… you know in school when you would have a pizza party, usually the teacher would buy it? That’s how they always happened in my experience (not counting the last day of 10th grade when some kid had pizza delivered to the school for lunch but it didn’t get there until math class lol). But especially in grade school? Like if it wasn’t a PTA made party that’s super organized, the school would buy the food, right? Right?

Yeah, so she was like, if this is happening you guys need to give me the money. Just give me the money and then I’ll pick them up on my way to work!! And after some arguing some kids are on board. Strudels should only cost a couple dollars right?

And she’s like, oh no, I’m gonna get them from this high end bakery near my house so it’ll be special, but they’re not cheap and it’ll be a big order! I’m gonna need like fifteen dollars from each of you!

And at this point I’m just like…lady. Come on. 

But she keeps insisting. She’s not gonna go until every student in class pays up.

And I’m like…I’m poor. I don’t even like strudel.  And some of the less-naïve kids are siding with me.

And then she pulls that “you guys are just spoiling all the fun for your classmates” shit, like the naïve kids who already paid up, so it gets to the point where we just gotta cave and give her the money.

(I ended up stealing it out of my Crazy Bitch Aunt’s wallet so it’s whatever, I guess.)

And then of course, shockingly enough, every morning she was met with “where are the strudels?” and every morning she went wide eyed, slapped her forehead and yelled in embarrassed horror “I totally forgot! Tomorrow, guys, I promise!”

Honestly, with how scatterbrained and confused she always was…like to this day I can’t tell you with 100% certainty whether she hustled us or was just actually forgetting about the damn pastries, I choose to lean towards the hustled us side because that’s just the type of people I’m used to, but if I found out it was innocent forgetfulness I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.

She couldn’t handle more than one person talking at a time. Like, we’d have break periods, or group work, or something and all the talking made her go wide-eyed and batty. She’d look overworked and anxious and would be darting around the room trying to do work or something but she couldn’t focus and she’d yell at anyone who tried to talk to her directly. I remember one time she was using this boys desk for something so he asked “where am I supposed to sit?” and she snapped “Sit on the ceiling for all I care!”. And this kid was the Class Clown™ , so he immediately grabbed a chair in one hand and started climbing the bookcase to try and reach the ceiling. She’s standing right next to this and doesn’t even notice. He got all four chair legs planted on the ceiling and was trying to somehow maneuver his way into the chair (I really don’t know what the plan was exactly- he was really tall and it was a small building, so I think he probably had the idea that if he can get his body upside down and in the chair, and stretch out his arms like a hand-stand to hold onto bookcase, he could arguably sit on the ceiling.) but he slipped. Crashed into my desk and the two desks next to me, knocked over the book case, broke the chair in half and hit the desks with enough force to knock them down lower. It was hilarious. Everyone was loosing their shit cracking up (he was fine) and it still took Stubel like five minutes to notice his lying out across the desks right in front of her eyes. She was pissed but how did she miss any of it in the first place? She was barely being helpful in whatever it was she was trying to do.

This was the year the Phillies were going to the World Series, and all the grades were having a Phillies Rally in the cafeteria so a news crew was coming to the school and each class was supposed to come up with fun little cheers for them to broadcast. Multiple cheer ideas were presented to her and she vetoed all of them, someone even suggested just singing the damn eagles theme song with replaced words and calling it a day but she vetoed that too, she was very adamant that she could come up with a cheer all by herself and it’ll be the best one (whoever had the best cheer was winning like an ice cream day or something idk). And then like…literally five minutes before the rally she just hands us signs with the letters and was like ‘we’re just gonna spell out Phillies it will be cute won’t it my strudels???’. We were the weakest class there, predictably. I think we lost to the kindergarteners. There might still be a video online of me yelling “ i “ passionately at the top of my lungs. It was online bc our cheer was so bland the news crew cut it out of the broadcast.

I literally can’t say enough about how she never taught us anything. She’d be going on some tangent about how she doesn’t understand the science behind skiing, and I’d be like “Okay yes but please can you just tell me where Romania is on a map???” And she’d start fights whenever someone actually wanted to learn. It was so easy to get her angry but so hard for her to stay on topic. Kids started teaching the class themselves! Like seriously, she’d be rambling and one of us would just go up to the podium, open the teacher’s guide textbook and just start reading out loud and talking over her. By the time she noticed we’d be halfway through a lesson. And we understood it better than when she tried! You know something’s wrong when pre-teens are more qualified for a job than an adult who supposedly went to school for this.

We were in the church having run-throughs for our upcoming Confirmation and she almost set the church on fire…fifteen different times. In less than half an hour. How hard is it to hold a candle?

Okay, and here’s when stuff starts kicking up. It was October 28th, a Tuesday, and it was our last day of school that week because they were having parent-teacher conferences the rest of the week. So we were just hanging out, watching movies in class and reading (lord knows we weren’t learning), and Stubel calls me over to her desk.

So like, she had given everyone little bags with candy for Halloween, but I get up there and she hands me an extra one. And she’s like “Molly I know your birthday is tomorrow and I bought you a present but I left it on my coffee table this morning by accident! So just have the candy for now!”

And I’m like….”Ma’am I’m like, the sixth birthday this year. You didn’t give anyone else presents?”

And she goes “Oh, I know but this is a special secret surprise. I just know you’re gonna love it! Do you wanna stop by my house later this week to pick it up or should I just give it to you Monday after school?”

And like…In writing this sounds like a non-threatening exchange, and like, it was, but I felt so uncomfortable holy shit. I’m looking over my shoulder and shooting my friends SOS signals. Something about this felt so weird in my gut omfg. I told her thanks and I’d just see her Monday.

So we flash forward to Wednesday- my 13th birthday, the day the Phillies won the world series, and also the day my mother innocently strolled into the school for her meeting only to be met with screaming, the sound of heavy destruction, and the school secretary Mrs. Daily running at her in a panic, waving her arms and yelling “YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED GET IN MY OFFICE NOW!”

So my poor mother, who thought she could handle this whole meeting in a few minutes and barely be an hour late for work, is now barricaded in the front office with the school secretary, as the noises from down the hall get louder and louder. The woman explains that they had gotten so many complaints about Mrs. Stubel that this morning, when she got to the school, the principal Sister Patricia called her in and said “Listen, we need you to be professional and still have the parent conferences, but we have to let you go. We just don’t think you fit in well here, and the kids need to come first and feel comfortable in their school.” and like, I’m paraphrasing because I wasn’t there, but we all know she was very polite and professional about it.

Mrs. Stubel, however…was not.

She flipped her chair and stormed out of the office, and locks herself in the seventh grade classroom. She started wrecking the shit out of that place, screaming obscenities and the top of her lungs, they had to call the cops on her! She was locked in there for almost an hour! And let me just give you a nice little list of everything she did in that classroom:

  • Smashed three windows.
  • Threw everything off her desk and carved swear words all over it.
  • Got cleaning fluid that she knew would damage the chalk boards, smeared it all over.
  • Cracked the chalk boards by repeatedly smashing chairs against them.
  • Wrote swear words all over the walls and on desks
  • Went into students desks, ripped up their books.
  • Stole my glasses. (which were in my desk bc I only used them in class at the time)
  • Threw some desks around.
  • Carved swear words into the boards. (there was so much carving I’m assuming she just had a knife on her person, which has to lead to the question, did she have a knife on her while she was in class with us?)
  • Physically ripped the hooks to hang backpacks on out of the wall.
  • Knocked the closet door off it’s hinges.
  • Ripped up all the books in the bookcases and threw their pages all around the room.
  • Wrote lewd phrases inside student’s desks.
  • Broke multiple chairs.
  • Used her podium as a battering ram against the wall that’s in front of where the backpacks go. (the wall won but Damage Was Inflicted)
  • Set a fire in the trash can.
  • When the principal and other teachers started trying to get in, she tossed her rolling chair at the door to scare them off.
  • She was screaming curse words at the top of her lungs the entire time, and cursing the school and the kids and the principal and the church in general, and the school building was small, so all the parents and the smaller children that had to come to the meetings (who were locked in their respective classrooms in fear) heard everything.
  • So much more? But it’s 4:30 in this morning and this list is already long.

So my mom is in the front office and deadass the

entire police force

shows up, running down the hallway to the classroom yelling at her to stop, and it takes a while for them to get her out holy shit. They knocked down the door and she tried to escape out of one of the broken windows! But they got her and dragged her out.

So of course, in such a small school with very involved parents this shit spread like wildfire. The entire town knew within the day. The poor principal called the newly retired old-seventh grade teacher and was like “So we…need some help” and the lady was like “I already heard I’ll be there Monday” omfg. I remember I got a text from one of my classmates saying “if your birthday wish was for us to be set free from the beast I love you” omfg.

So, we eventually go back to school on Monday and everyone’s buzzing. The principal has us go to the cafeteria and she ‘delicately’ explains the situation, and that the old teacher is coming out of retirement for us, the school has a restraining order against Mrs. Stubel now and that she’s sorry we had to deal with this mess. Our classroom had to go under some heavy reconstruction before we could be let back in there, so for like two weeks we alternated between the cafeteria and the preschooler’s classroom, we had no books or anything, just provided loose-leaf paper and pens. It was like, surreal, but everyone was just so happy to be rid of her and to be in the presence of a competent teacher omfg. We eventually were able to get back into our usual classroom.

  1. It took a while for things to go completely back to normal, though. After the big spectacle she made, for weeks after she was fired we were all very scared of the possibility of Mrs. Stubel returning to the school with a gun in hand. It was always a topic we whispered about at lunch with wide eyes and shivers. Like…genuine nightmare scenario.
  2. About two weeks after she was fired, a boy in the back of the classroom gasped loudly during SSR, and when we all looked at him, he whispered in anger “She never gave us our freakin’ strudels!”
  3. About three months after she was fired, we were lined up at the door to go to Library when a few of us looked through the windows and saw something darting through the trees. It was fast and we couldn’t make anything out, so we let it drop. When the class and teacher returned half and hour later, the book she had borrowed months before from one of the boys was sitting on his desk. It was just laying there, the room was silent, nothing had been disturbed…but I have never seen a book look so threatening. People were freaking out. Someone kept insisting that she turned the book into a bomb. No one figure out how she got in the school, and no one could figure out how she got it on the right desk, as we had switched the seating arrangement since she had last been there.  
  4. A full six months after she had left, it was nearing the end of the school year and our class was dicking around during our last computer class. Someone found a website (that we weren’t allowed to be on) that pulls up any police records attached to whoever’s name you enter, so someone decided to search Mrs. Stubel as a joke. We ended up finding out she had like six DUI’s.

Aaaaand that’s the story of the horrendous teacher I had for two months in 7th grade. One of my favorite party stories but tbh she still haunts me™ .

In an Alternate Universe...
  • JB: I hate it when Yugyeom calls me Hyung
  • Mark: *constantly screaming*
  • Jackson: Hello I am the calm and collected member of Got7
  • Jinyoung: I have no children
  • Youngjae: I hate dogs
  • Bambam: Eww! Dabbing that's so mainstream- that's awful
  • Yugyeom: I don't really like dancing
  • Me: Got7 is not the best thing that ever happened to me

fireyfobbitmedicine  asked:

Group chat between Dio and his kids

sadfasd i’m not taking requests now But i’ll make an exception with yours bc i like the fact that If you line all the group chat things i’ve made (zeppelis - joestars - villains - sbr) you can see how dio has slowly taken over and i think that’s beautiful

i love the idea of the joestars having to escape from their fans in the same way that Dio has to escape from his illegitimate children

–and to add a contribution to part 5 and the collective desire to have it confirmed


you are still a valid little if you:

• have tattoos or body piercings
• smoke / drink / use
• embrace your sexuality
• didn’t have a troubled childhood
• still live with your parents
• are overweight / underweight
• drink from a regular glass
• don’t wear diapers / pull-ups
• don’t wear onesies or footie pajamas
• dislike using pacifiers
• prefer showers over baths
• would rather collect books instead of stuffed animals
• think glitter is too messy to keep around
• pink or blue ( or rainbow ) isn’t your color
• find coloring / crafts boring 
• find cartoons or disney movies non-entertaining
• don’t eat sweets
• dislike chicken nuggets / fruit snacks / macaroni & cheese
• dislike juices or milk
• prefer actual children over animals
• have kids / are pregnant
• need space / alone time
• have a mental disorder ( not only anxiety & depression )
• have a physical disability
• are a member of the lgbtq+ community
• don’t have a caregiver
• & more…

you are too unique to fall under a stereotype perfectly so don’t worry about your body type, regressors, or whether you’re a “real little” or not, you are valid no matter the situation. there are no rules to “little” - all you need is yourself to get lost in the feeling.

Is there such a thing as a normal giant robot anime? Like, I’m totally down with a series where the giant robots turn out to be lobotomised clones of an alien god and the “good guys” have been collecting severely abused children to pilot them because they’re literally powered by self-loathing, or what have you, but sometimes you just want to see a fifty-meter robot punch a monster.

anonymous asked:

Okay, so here I am, an innocent lurker, having just found this blog, when I see: "what if the skywalkers were cthulu-type monsters." excuse me??? please elaborate you just wrote that and nothing else im dying ex p la i n y o ur s el f

  • The Force is everything that ever was and ever will be, every storm and every silence, the hunting krayk dragon and cowering bantha calf: it is huge, all-consuming, completely inhuman. How, then, could its children be anything short of monstrous? (Wonders, yes. But monsters all the same.)
  • Anakin Skywalker is boy-shaped, but Obi Wan cannot bear to look at him. 
  • A clarification: he can look at him with his human eyes; but he must clamp down the extra eyes his Force-sensitivity gives him, because when he doesn’t – well. The first time he met the boy he hadn’t closed those eyes; he’d open them, wide and curious and seen –
    • teeth and claws and roiling shadows, a slipslide of features and starfire, the white blur of warpspeed and it hurts –
  • Anakin Skywalker is the son of the Force, half human and half something extraordinary. There’s a reason the Jedi don’t like him, why Yoda mistrusts him; they all have to close their extra eyes around him; and even when they’re white-knuckled with effort, clamping down so the Force can’t so much as whisper to them (and that hurts Jedi, of course it does, it runs counter to all their training about opening up and trusting in the Force) and even then they still feel the velvet quiver of unseen limbs over their skin. 
  • And more. And worse. When he is angry – which is often – his shadow warps into something awful, and even the least Force-sensitive being quails at the profound wrongness of the sight. His features warp and melt, teeth spiralling out from his pupils, his mouth cracks open wide, his tongue growing scales and feathers and catching fire and he smiles, oh how he smiles and –
    • nothing like him should exist and
    • and you blink, lose the moment, he’s just a young man glowering at you, and his shadow is the same, but the memory of that horror is seared into the back of your brain.
  • It is no surprise that Padme dies in childbed. 
  • The first child’s cry makes Obi Wan’s bones rattle. It – you could not call it anything but an it – is a twisting, squirming mess of light and dark. There’s a wing, a thorned branch: you cannot focus on it. You cannot pin a shape to it. Obi Wan wants to run away, run and never look back. But the Med Droid is offering it to him; and it is a child, of a sort; and Obi Wan takes it, and it coalesces into a soft pink baby girl. He places it – her – against Padme’s white breast. Padme cradles it. “She’s beautiful.”
  • The second is just the same: pushed out like any human baby, but a roling mess of lightening and thick syrupy cloud, one moment tentacled and the next furred, pure power condensed. Obi Wan takes it in his arms and it solidifies into another fat baby, small and squalling. 
  • He’s not like the other babies, Luke Skywalker. He’s a funny one. When he smiles, you have the sudden absurd impulse that he’s got too many teeth for his face. His hair is corn-gold, but when you see it out of the corner of your eye you swear that it isn’t hair at all, but fire and teeth. Looking at him too long is like staring into the sun. 
  • The other children are scared of him, Behu says to Owen, once. And Owen says: children always know. And Behu says: he isn’t a bad kid. Owen says: he’s a wonder. And that’s the problem. 
  • Jabba’s goons go to the Lars farm to collect water once. Only once. They return to Jabba’s palace gibbering nonsense, with their eyes burned out. Both mumble something about there’s something wrong with the boy and then jump into the ragnar pit. 
  • Don’t do that again, says Owen, but he hugs his nephew all the same, pulls him close, kisses his temple. He feels something hot-cold run over his spine, like something far larger than the child is trying to embrace him back. That night, Behu runs her fingers over the new white scartissue on her husband’s back, and says, he’s a good kid. Owen says, I know.
  • If I was there I could have saved them, Luke says to Ben Kenobi, years later, and in that moment he has a thousand thousand eyes and all of them are burning, and he has no limbs but a dozen wings bearing him aloft, and each feather is molten gold and each feather drips blood. Ben thinks of Anakin, screws his Force-sensitivity closed. Luke is a monster. A wonder. But first and foremost he is a boy, and he is grieving. 
    • Ben Kenobi holds him while he weeps. 
  • When Leia comes, she turns into a celestial horror with more teeth than Han cares to count. “Huh,” he says, after their first time. She’s so little in his arms, but so vast. He feels something gentle his back. He says, “Next time, I’ll wear a blindfold, princess. Don’t want to blind me, do you? Then I won’t be able to see when you’re doing stupid shit.” She titters, presses her face into the curve of his neck. 
    • Love comes to everyone, including monsters. 

y3daner  asked:

top ten times yuuri katsuki was charming without him noticing

Top Ten Times Yuuri Katsuki Was Charming Without Him Noticing:

10) At a competition a little girl got lost and started crying and he calmed her down and let her ride on his shoulders all the way back to the rink when he went to find her parents

9) A fan gave him some artwork to sign and said ‘sorry, it isn’t very good’ and despite being busy and in the middle of signing autographs he still stopped and took a good few minutes to sincerely compliment her work and style which made her blush so badly

8) At college he organised a study group for people who were struggling on his course to share his notes and ended up unofficially tutoring most of them for free and every single person who attended was a least partially in love with him by the end

7) In the skate club in Detroit one of the ice dancers hurt his leg in practice and so Yuuri offered to help the girl who was left without a partner practice her routine by standing in for him even though he was embarrassed that he didn’t really know the moves well. She was incredibly grateful, he learned a bit of ice dancing and every other skater was insanely jealous of her

6) Once a couple proposed in front of him after one of his competitions and he very sweetly congratulated them and offered to take a photo but ended up being in the photo instead at their insistence

5) He did a guest appearance at an ice skating class for children and was really, really good with the kids and encouraging them with their skating and being generally a wonderful teacher and all the young single parents were sighing over him and looking at each other like ‘he’s mine, I’m calling it first, back off’.

4) He donated a lot of money to a dog shelter in Detroit and there were loads of pictures and videos of him there playing with the puppies and everyone’s hearts collectively melted

3) Once a girl at the skating club didn’t have anyone to go to a fancy dance with her and she was embarrassed to go alone. Since Yuuri knew he was a decent dancer he offered to go with her as friends so that she could still go and it was a really sweet and considerate gesture and they spent the evening having fun and owning everyone else in the room with how well they danced. That girl was the one mentioned in chapter 14 who later invited Yuuri and Phichit to her wedding. She met her future wife at that dance, which she wouldn’t have gone to without Yuuri offering to help her out

2) That time he took the triplets backstage in chapter 12 and everyone was like ‘awwww’

1) Every little thing he did that made Viktor fall even more in love with him over the years which was a lot and happened often

Witch Bullet Journal Collection Ideas

Here’s some ideas for collections and habit tracker ideas for your BuJo. I’m Slow to to do this myself, but it’s hard to find time to BuJo with two children and being really depressed. So here it is.

  • Tarot Keep Guide - Lists of general meanings of the cards
  • Meditation Habit Tracker
  • Watering plants habit tracker
  • Garden Tips - this is handy for city witches that notice that certain plants may or may not grow on your patios/balconies. Make a little guide with sun, shade and water requirements as well as other useful notes
  • Essential Oil Quick Guide - I only have 10 essential oils because they are expensive in my area, but I wrote a little correspondence for them in my journal
  • An Actual Calendar! - Sorry but the traditional future log messes me up every time, so I use full calendar months
  • Eating Habit tracker - When I get really done in the downy dumps I start to loss my appetite, So I use this to make sure I eat at least something three times a day, even if it’s just soup. This is great to do with water so you can make sure you’re getting enough
  • Leave a space for sigils on every page. Or doodle. I always try and watch the doodle with what I’m writing.
  • Things to research - the names says it all

This is it for now, feel free to reblog with your own ideas. I’m going to post some of my Bullet journal pages on my Instagram.

- Witchy Wolf

anonymous asked:

I never stop laughing at how unnecessarily dramatic both my children are. They play calm, cool, and collected, but they overreact to the strangest things. Harry with his: have ya? Really? How dare you say you've seen MY Louis sitting his bum (which is also MINE), on a toilet. Oh and guess what? The toilet was in MY house where I lived with MY Louis. And Louis with his constant: YOU HAVE DISAPPOINTED ME LAD BIBLE. I have FOLLOWED you. Strike TWO. Do BETTER. djfkdnsksjls why are they like this???

i knowwww stop they’re both such drama queens

If only you knew how much you meant to me.
—  he’s the kind of art you’ll lose yourself in– the kind of silence you don’t need to call to ensure no fingers have been bent in the process of preserving leaves for a second chance at autumn, a second chance at learning how to say I love you without cutting a vein for a life line, a rewrite of home tucking you in at night when you know sleep is a thirteen hour flight detoured from your eyelids. I can write you a poem or I can look into your eyes and tell you what I see– an aging thought stewed long enough to handle with care, smile erased from pain prolonged to ebb a collection of can do’s when the rain weighs you down. The first time I heard your voice, I knew I was going to love you like this. You’re the one piece of happiness I’ll always have when the world spins faster than my thoughts, the hand I’ll tire of showing flowers how to stand tall. she’s the kind of moonlight that doesn’t require the night to be enjoyed. i can see you fine from a world away, you’ve got enough heart to heal the burning cities. you cry for the flowers and you laugh for the children, sometimes i confuse myself about our reality– if i died too soon, would you ever be mad at me? she places the stars into your scars, we rip away the ugly pieces of us– she’ll always kiss you goodnight, she’ll always kiss you goodnight. you can’t accept beauty without understanding the beast’s undying love. you can’t hand someone a rose without first explaining the thorns. you can’t say that love is a strong word unless you’ve been hurt before. she’s been hurt before. she’s been loved before. she’s been left before. run on home star child, water the flowers with more sunlight– we’re all abstract and aesthetics when it comes to heartache, there’s something so real about pain that we must paint it into fiction. there’s something so flawed about being human that it’s hard to accept ourselves. so i’ve been trying to write us down as more than star-crossed who never made it to the alter. prayers don’t mean a thing if we’re all sinners. drugs don’t do a thing when you’re a few months high. you’ve been alive, but dead this whole time. she’s the promise that stops time, we’re a little lost without a sense of direction. she keeps track of the days when you’ve been away because little details mean everything. she rocketships herself to your smile just to say her apologies. she keeps you under umbrellas because you believed that magic was real at some point. we used to love like it would never break us. we used to laugh like a broken funny bone. we used to smile like your first crush finally kissing you first. we used to dance like petals during open spring endless weeks of rain. we used to know who we were– but then we met people like you and realized the people that we had to become to love a little lighter, hold a little tighter, scream a little more poetry, die a little later, live a little longer than forever and we make promises to our insecurities because even if you don’t love me– i’ll always love myself enough to forget about how you couldn’t.

Moon-Neptune 
Moon conjunct Neptune, Moon square Neptune, Moon trine Neptune, Moon opposite Neptune, Moon sextile Neptune 

When Neptune and the Moon make music the emotional spectrum can be oceanic. The individual is tapped into the whole sensory orchestra of the collective, mood shifts by the Moon become fantasised by the waves of Neptune, enveloping the individual entrancingly, transporting them to lagoons to pure feeling, euphoria, and ecstasy, and sadness, and deep melancholy. Moon-Neptune individuals have permeable boundaries, they can become cocooned by the mood of the room, leaky and vulnerable. The individual is an impressive empath, capable of reading body language and hidden emotion well. It can be impossible to deceive these people with lies that, ‘you are fine’, because they can feel sadness in your eyes and in your spirit. These individuals can be psychic children, often developing profound empathy as young children, receiving invisible signals and hidden details. The imagination can be wicked with Moon-Neptune. Triggered by emotion, the fantasy world can sketch a murky ocean of darkness, prophetizing chaos and torture. So this vivid imagination can turn self destructive, depending on the mood or environment. The artistic expression can be rich here, any form of creative essence flows from two cosmic waterfalls, music, painting, writing, cinema, glamour, dance, any experience that mimics the creative activity of God. This is the illusion of all illusion, a lunar dreamboat riding into Neptune bay.

-C.

So @packratofdenialism gave me this idea for a fanfic where Meredith lives and she and Yondu coparent Peter. This happens in my head because Yondu got suspicious when Ego told him to pick another kid up “in about a year” and investigated and decided to help Meredith out as a way of dealing with the guilt he feels since he’s come to the conclusion Ego’s done something awful to the other kids he’s brought him. Here’s a scene from before Yondu and Meredith go to the Collector for a potential fix as their last idea. They’re waiting in a bar for the Collector to send for them, and Meredith ends up making Yondu come clean as to what he thinks is really going on (he initially lied to get her and Peter to come with him by pretending Ego sent him).

—-

“If this doesn’t work though…you’ll still take Peter to his father, right?” Meredith asked.

Yondu went still.

“Yondu?” she asked. “You’ll promise me, won’t you? That you’ll take him home?”

“…Can’t promise you that, Meredith,” he said quietly.

“What?” she asked.

“I can’t,” he said stiffly. “Can’t promise you…because I won’t do it.”

“Why the hell not?” she demanded, leaping to her feet. Her world spun instantly and Yondu grabbed her before she hit the floor. “I thought you wanted to help us!”

“I am helping you!” Yondu said. “And I won’t be helping him if I take him there!”

“Why?” she yelled.

“Cause none of the others ever came back!” he snapped.

“…Others?” she asked as Yondu slowly sat her back down on the stool. “What others?”

“His other kids,” Yondu said. “I…I took Ego his other kids. No one ever saw them again.”

“He….had other kids…” Meredith said. She felt very cold all of the sudden as things started make some sort of terrible sense. Why Yondu was so cagey about why “Ego sent him” to pick her up and try to find her help. Why the Ravagers crew clearly hadn’t had a clue of where to start looking for how to deal with a tumor. The oddness of the tumor being so hard to operate on even for more advanced species…

“Yeah. I didn’t tell you cause you wouldn’t have let me help,” Yondu said. “But…you’re not special, Meredith. He’s done this before. It’s not that he couldn’t bear to watch you die. It’s that he told me to wait until you did die to get your boy and bring him to Ego.”

Meredith took a deep breath as she tried to understand what the hell she was being told. She’d known something was up with Yondu’s original story for a while now, but for it to be that…

“That’s what all the whispering was, then?” she asked. “All those times you stopped talking when Peter or I came over?”

“Some of the crew figured you weren’t really cargo. ‘S why I made you quartermaster. Shut up the whiners if you were puling your weight,” he said.

“And what happened if I was cured and demanded to go see Ego?” she asked.

“…Honestly I was going to let Horuz handle it. He likes being an ass so he could have broke it hard and not minded the fallout,” Yondu said. “I’ll admit, was not looking forward to Peter crying. Makes a chest twist up when he starts whimpering like that…”

“You think the tumor’s weird.”

She wasn’t entirely sure why she said it, why she remembered him saying that.

Yondu nodded slowly, “Yeah. We’ve been told that. Remember, you thought it was just, uh, intimate exposure to…”

“No. No you think…you think more,” she said. “You don’t think it was an accident, do you?”

Yondu cringed a bit under her gaze. She was right. He’d put a lot more thought into this than just a favor to a dying woman. He’d thought of the why as more than some accident. He just hadn’t said anything.

“…You think he did it on purpose,” Meredith said slowly.

“I don’t know what-”

“I didn’t say you knew, I said it’s what you think,” Meredith corrected, cutting Yondu off. “That’s what you think happened.”

Yondu sighed, “I know he knew about it. And I know he told me to get ready to pick Peter up when you died, which he had a pretty good timescale for, despite never seeing the boy alive meaning he’d bene gone for over six years. And I know every kid I ever brought him was never seen again and he didn’t seem to give a damn about any of their other parents.”

Meredith let that digest. It made terrible sense. Ma had been right all along. Just a fling for a guy using her who left her with a kid.

Oh god what was that thing he’d planted on earth? She’d have to send a call home over it, tell them to get…oh who did you even call to deal with that shit?

“How many did you bring him?” Meredith asked, trying to focus on the issue at hand, on verifying what Yond was saying now when he’d lied at the start.  

“’Bout a dozen,” Yondu said, staring at the bar top. “Wasn’t counting really; I was greedy and I admit it. They were his kids, he said pickup for pay so I picked up. Don’t know if he had anyone else doing it. Probably did. If I got suspicious enough to stop others probably did too and I was just the next he asked. Guy’s been around a long time.”

“And you never heard from them again?”

“Not even the ones I suggested should call if they needed anything,” Yondu said. “Last one…last one I was going to turn down. She was young. Younger than Quill.”

Meredith bristled at that. “Chronologically or developmentally?”

“Both,” Yondu said. “But the crew needed money and Ego could make gems so I caved. Not proud of it. Gave the kid a com, told her to call me if she got scared, or in a year if it went well. An anniversary call. Said I’d give a present if she did.”

“She never called.”

“Nope. Would have been three days before he called me about you,” Yondu said. “I don’t know what he’s doing to his kids, Meredith, but it ain’t good. I have my way? I never take that boy of yours near Ego.”

“So you know he’s collecting his children who are never heard from again…and you think he was going to kill me…why?” Meredith asked. “Why not just have you take Peter?”

“Maybe he figured, boy has your genes, he’ll make his way back to you before I get him to Ego,” Yondu said. “But he won’t do that if you’re not there.”

“Jackass,” Meredith muttered. “…Him, not you.”

“Nah, I’m a jackass. Took all those others to him, didn’t I?” Yondu asked.

“Wish you hadn’t?” Meredith asked.

Yondu “mm’d” in a manner she took to mean agreement.

“That’s why you helped, isn’t it?” she asked. “You felt guilty.”

“S’ not really guilt in your case,” Yondu said. “Didn’t have a thing to do with you or your boy.”

“But you had ‘a thing to do with’ around a dozen of Peter’s…siblings,” Meredith said. “With Ego’s other children. You wanted to keep Peter safe, didn’t you?”

Yondu huffed, “Maybe I just wanted to piss the jackass off by keeping Peter from him.”

“You didn’t need me alive for that,” Meredith said.

“…Was lousy. What he was trying to pull with you,” Yondu said. “Was crap.”

“Think he did that to any of the other…parents?” Meredith asked.

“Don’t know. He didn’t give me timescales for them,” Yondu said. “Just said to pick up one of his kids. Just did it. Never asked. I was a fool who never asked.”

“Yeah, well,” Meredith sighed. “I was a fool who fell for a spaceman. So we’re both fools.”

—-

That’s part of what’s written so far! Hope everyone likes it!

Many years ago, as a 14 year old, staying overnight at a friends house, with 3 other friends, similar ages. We’d all grown up together, except one, who was a cousin of the kid who lived there, and we’d never met him before. His older sister, 16 at the time, was the babysitter while the parents were out for the evening.

She decides to unearth a ouija board from a cupboard somewhere, and thinks it’ll be a laugh to scare us shitless. This was back in the days, when you could buy ouija boards as a ‘board game’ from your local toy store.

So we all gather round, and she starts off with a kind of yes/no lie detector, directing questions to the each of us in turn. Cue nervous giggles, but also a feeling of unease, as we all began to feel like this was awesomely amazing, like some kind of secret that we’d all been unaware of before.

Shit gets strange, when the sister asks out loud, that 'if anybody is here, please show yourself’. A pause of a few seconds, and then a framed picture falls off the wall, and onto the floor. Naturally, we all freak the fuck out. She calms us all down, and insists we go back to the board, because we have to help whoever knocked the picture down.

Ashen faced, and hearts pounding, we start asking questions (And I should also add, the pointer is moving smoothly and rapidly, in a completely different manner than before.)

Are you in the room? pointer says yes. Are you a man? pointer says no. Do you need help? pointer says no Whats’ your name? pointer spells out S-A-R-A-H Tell us a secret, we ask… pointer spells out FLIPACOIN

So we did. Someone leaves the table and gets a 10p piece from out of the loose change jar in the kitchen. This was in the days when 10p coins were big and chunky. The coin goes spinning high up into the air…

…as we watch it coming down, it stops spinning and serenely falls edge down to land on the table. When I say land, it didnt bounce, it didnt rock, it just came down and met the table, perfectly balanced on it’s edge, as if someone had reached out, and gently placed it there

Breaking the silence, the pointer starts moving again. Seemingly random letters, we soon realise they’re initials, including middle names. Family tradition for my friend and his sister was to have 3 middle names, something not all of us knew. Aside from the brother and the cousin, no-one else would have known the older sister’s full name, and we’d met the cousin for the first time that night. Somehow, every person present, had their initials correctly spelled out to them.

Pointer pauses, and then spells out 3 last words. CHILDREN. STOP. NOW.

Took me many many weeks to be able to sleep properly. No-one told their parents, and over the years it became our collective shared secret. Couldn’t rationalise it then, still cant rationalise it today.

[Story credit: /u/DjangoFlugelhorn]

Children of Hecate

Requested by anonymous.

  • Children of Hecate sometimes stay up all night practicing their sorcery. 
  • Other campers usually bring coffee or other hot drinks to their sleep-deprived friends from cabin 20.
  • As their mother was granted power in all the realms (sky, ocean, earth and underworld) by the Big Three, using the four elements in their witchcraft can strengthen their spell.
  • The runes and inscriptions in the stones they used to build their cabin don’t only strengthen the walls of their cabin and lessen their unintended spell-casting, but also make it so their cabin is bigger on the inside.
  • They all even have their own rooms as they - like their mother - like solitude.
  • The Hecate cabin also has their own treasure room in which they keep objects the Hecate campers have collected on their quests.
  • They only keep the magical or enchanted objects though and send everything else to the attic of the Big House.
  • One kid got inspired by reading Harry Potter and now a lot of Hecate campers have enchanted their ceilings just like the Great Hall.
  • Hecate likes to help her kids learn how to use their powers.
  • They have a huge mirror to contact their mother whenever they have questions or “my spell still didn’t work and now we need a new couch”.
  • Once they are claimed, Hecate gives her children a crash course on all the different forms of magic and learns them the basics of each.
  • Eventually they have to choose a specialty though, as there are too many different forms of magic to excel in them all.
  • Naturally, they love fantasy novels. 
  • A lot of them love wearing eccentric clothing, long cloak-like dresses or even actual cloaks. 
  • They don’t even know why.
  • Their grades at school usually aren’t always the best, but they constantly surprise (read; annoy) their teachers by knowing the most random facts.
  • They might not know who fought who in the battle of Waterloo, but “did you know Napoleon legalised homosexuality?
  • “Also he stopped killing ‘witches’ at the same time”, but them knowing this has nothing to do with their mother also being the goddess of trivia. 
  • “Who were they kidding anyway, trying to drown us.”
  • “Yeah, just because we have power underwater doesn’t mean they’re going to see us use it. They’ll just have a ‘death’ to explain while our ancestral sisters moved to the next village.”
  • “And what about our brothers? Super sexist if you ask me.”
  • Of course, kids of Hecate are all feminists no matter what their gender is.
Zodiac Babies

JANUARY BABY
Pretty/handsome. Loves to dress up. Easily bored. Fussy. Seldom shows emotions. Takes time to recover when hurt. Sensitive. Down-to-Earth. Stubborn.

FEBRUARY BABY
Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent and clever. Changing personality. Attractive. sexiest out of everyone. Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom. Rebellious when restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily hurt. Gets angry really easily but does not show it. Dislikes unnecessary things. Loves making friends but rarely shows it. Horny. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizing dreams and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the inside not outside. Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show emotions.

MARCH BABY
Attractive personality. sexy. Affectionate Shy and reserved. Secretive. Naturally honest, generous and sympathetic. Loves peace and serenity. Sensitive to others. Great kisser. Easily angered. Trustworthy. Appreciative and returns kindness. Hardly shows emotions. Tends to bottle up feelings. Observant and assesses others.

APRIL BABY
Suave and compromising. Funny and humorous. Stubborn. Very talkative. Calm and cool. Kind and sympathetic. Concerned and detailed. Loyal. Does work well with others. Very confident. Sensitive. Positive Attitude. Thinking generous. Good memory. Clever and knowledgeable. Loves to look for information. Able to cheer everyone up and/or make them laugh. Able to motivate oneself and others. Understanding. Fun to be around. Outgoing. Hyper. Bubbly personality. Secretive. Boy/girl crazy. Loves sports, music, leisure and travelling. Systematic. hot but has brains.

MAY BABY
Stubborn and hard-hearted . Strong-willed and highly motivated. Sharp thoughts. Easily angered. Attracts others and loves attention. Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. Firm Standpoint. Needs no motivation. Shy towards opposite sex. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). Loves to dream. Strong clairvoyance. Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. Good imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. Loves literature and the arts. Loves travelling. Dislike being at home. Restless. Not having many children. Hardworking. High spirited.

JUNE BABY
You’ve got the best personality and are an absolute pleasure to be around. You love to make new friends and be outgoing. You are a great flirt and more than likely have an a very attractive partner. a wicked hottie. It is also more than likely that you have a massive record collection. You have a great choice in films, and may one day become a famous actor/actress yourself - heck, you’ve got the looks for it!!!

JULY BABY
Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people’s feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable. Easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. spazzy at times. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets. dislikes nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying. Loves to be with friends . Always broods about the past and the old friends. Waits for friends. Never looks for friends. Not aggressive unless provoked. Loves to be loved. Easily hurt but takes long to recover.

AUGUST BABY
outgoing personality. takes risks. feeds on attention. no self control. kind hearted. self confident. loud and boisterous. VERY revengeful. easy to get along with and talk to. has an “every thing’s peachy” attitude. likes talking and singing. loves music. daydreamer. easily distracted. Hates not being trusted. BIG imagination. loves to be loved. hates studying. in need of “that someone”. longs for freedom. rebellious when withheld or restricted. lives by “no pain no gain” caring. always a suspect. playful. mysterious. “charming” or “beautiful” to everyone. stubborn. curious. independent. strong willed. a fighter.

SEPTEMBER BABY
Active and dynamic. Decisive and haste but tends to regret. Attractive and affectionate to oneself. Strong mentality. Loves attention. Diplomatic. Consoling, friendly and solves people’s problems. Brave and fearless. Adventurous. Loving and caring. Suave and generous. Usually you have many friends. Enjoys to make love. Emotional. Stubborn. Hasty. Good memory. Moving, motivates oneself and others. Loves to travel and explore. Sometimes sexy in a way that only their lover can understand.

OCTOBER BABY
Loves to chat. Loves those who love them. Loves to takes things at the centre. Inner and physical beauty. Lies but doesn’t pretend. Gets angry often. Treats friends importantly. Brave and fearless. Always making friends. Easily hurt but recovers easily. Daydreamer. Opinionated. Does not care to control emotions. Unpredictable. Extremely smart, but definitely the hottest AND sexiest of them all.

NOVEMBER BABY
Trustworthy and loyal. Very passionate and dangerous. Wild at times. Knows how to have fun. Sexy and mysterious. Everyone is drawn towards your inner and outer beauty and independent personality. Playful, but secretive. Very emotional and temperamental sometimes. Meets new people easily and very social in a group. Fearless and independent. Can hold their own. Stands out in a crowd. Essentially very smart. Usually, the greatest men are born in this month. If you ever begin a relationship with someone from this month, hold on to them because their one of a kind.

DECEMBER BABY
This straight-up means ur the most good-looking person possible… better than all of these other months! Loyal and generous. Patriotic. Competitive in everything. Active in games and interactions. Impatient and hasty. Ambitious. Influential in organizations. Fun to be with. Easy to talk to, though hard to understand. Thinks far with vision, yet complicated to know. Easily influenced by kindness. Polite and soft-spoken. Having lots of ideas. Sensitive. Active mind. Hesitating, tends to delay. Choosy and always wants the best. Temperamental. Funny and humorous. Loves to joke. Good debating skills. Has that someone always on his/her mind. Talkative. Daydreamer. Friendly. Knows how to make friends. Abiding. Able to show character. one guy/girl kind of person. Loveable. Easily hurt. Prone to getting colds. loves music.

{FOLLOW ME}

Originally posted by lehnsherr-stark

Originally posted by loki-is-sexiest-of-the-sexy

When Loki opened his eyes everything hurt. His body felt sore as if he had hit a mountain. 

“Finally. I thought you dead.” Loki frowned at you when you suddenly leaned forward and placed your hand on his forehead, humming approvingly. “No fever. That’s good.”

Loki pushed your hand away and hissed: “Tell me who you are and where I am.”

“Uh, a little bit demanding, aren’t you?” You laughed and tsked, pointing with your index finger at him. “I’m [Y/N], dummy,  and you’re not going to fool me. Not again. This is not funny anymore.”

“Fool you? Don’t you know who I am?”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. “Yes, you’re Loki. My husband and King of Jotunheim, brother and right hand of Thor, King of Asgard. Blah Blah Blah.” 

Immediately Loki sat up, ignoring the pain, and stared at you. “King? Husband? This is not real. I do not belong here.” He looked around. The room was warm and cozy but looked more like a room carved into a cave. 

“What? What are you talking about?” You tried to push him carefully down but he didn’t even move a centimeter. “Love, you hurt yourself. I don’t know who attacked you but who ever did that was very powerful. You’re still weak, you need rest before you can find them.” 

For a second Loki contemplated what might have happened to him. There had been a fight against the sorcerer Doctor Strange before the man had thrown him through a portal. He cursed silently. He had thought the sorcerer had thrown him through it to send him somewhere far away, but that was not the case.

“Listen to me carefully. I am Loki, but I am not your husband and certainly not King of Jotunheim. I’m from a different universe.” 

“Oh…okay…Who send you then?” You asked confused and stepped back, not sure if the man was like your husband, or a different man. 

“Doctor Strange.”

“Strange, your friend from Midgard? This is unfortunate, Loki, because Stephen is dead. For over a decade now.” 

“What?” He didn’t look sad or shocked but verry pissed. 

“He’s dead.” You said and sighed, thinking about a solution.. “But I think I can get you your- my husbands books. He has a huge collection and the kids would love to help us to find the right spell.”

Loki blinked. “Kids? You have children.”

“Yes, we have a bunch of them. Six boys and god bless, I hope the next one is a girl. ” You gave him a smile, but it vanished as soon as you noticed his pained expression. “Don’t you have children?”

“No, I have not.”

“Well, maybe one day you’ll have some.” You said, the soft smile still on your lips. “Come, we should find a way to bring you home.”