animal teacher

New print available in my Etsy Shop!

🌿Hedgehog Medallion🌿
Acrylic washes on cotton paper.

I have fallen in love with the hedgie message…
The hedgehog is associated with the earth, intuition, sensitivity and resourcefulness. The curious hedgehog loves to explore and has the tools to defend itself along the journey. The hedgehog lesson tells us that we need to balance protection with openness. We all need a little space here and there, but don’t forget to share your unique gifts with the world - there is no one else like you.


Darwin’s Fox (Lycalopex fulvipes) as czuciki/Totem. // Etsy


‘How I love open spaces to roam in, to find all I need to survive. I like a direct line to the skies, to wander broadly and not be limited to forest paths. As for me, well I can find nourishment just about anywhere, in anything. If you have need of me, you may find that you also have a knack of finding nourishment in many things. We are survivors, you and I, and we have a great capacity to see beauty on a grand scale, in so many facets that others may wonder how we can find so much, so beautiful. Sometimes people may not notice you, or pass you over, but do not worry. There are those who see you for who you really are, one more manifestation of the universe’s beauty, ranging in the open spaces.’


All done in ink, watercolour pencil and coloured pencil, with some metallic paint highlights, on illustration board.

Loser’s High school HC


  • Is involved in so many fucking sports it’s insane.
  • Is on the basketball, baseball, and football teams, plus he dabbles in lacrosse
  • Is in about ten different clubs including the environmental club, animal rights activists, the culture club, cooking club, and the sports club.
  • Has also won class rep every year he’s been in high school because he’s so fucking popular
  • Works at an animal shelter
  • All the teachers love him
  • All the students love him
  • Still manages to be an awesome friend to the entire loser’s club
  • Gives lots of activism speeches
  • Will take in your pets
  • Does a lot of babysitting
  • Can recite literally the entire town’s history
  • Will name random historical facts out of nowhere
  • Is the librarian’s favorite person in the world
  • Can tell you where any book in the library is
  • Volunteers for wayyy too many things, including the library
  • Somehow always finds time to hang out with the Losers
  • Has taught all of the Loser’s how to cook with varying degrees of success (because of Richie)


  • Is president of the women’s club and equal rights club
  • Is confident and proud of being a “Loser”, even though technically she’s so well liked that no body calls her that anymore
  • Strong and independently awesome
  • Has a column in the school paper for fashion advice
  • Will fucking destroy someone who bullies someone else (as the three idiots, who thought picking a fight with Eddie right in front of her was a good idea, soon found out)
  • Does the costume designs for every school play and is absolutely amazing at it
  • Works at a pizza parlor that all the Loser’s hang out at
  • Kicks Richie out of the pizza parlor at least once a week
  • Will totally talk to you about anything
  • Will never judge you
  • Started dating Ben in sophomore year after Bill and her decided they were better off as friends


  • Totally loves Beverly and treats her like a queen
  • Slimmed down a bit, but still acts the same
  • Is the president of both the poetry club and the pottery club- the latter he singed up on accident for (thinking it was the poetry club at first glance).
  • Ben is so kind and nice that even though he can’t do pottery for shit he always helps everyone else in the club, so they all unanimously decided he should be the president
  • His mother is an absolute sweet heart that treats the Loser’s like her babies
  • Always gets conned into giving Richie money that he knows he’ll never get back
  • Coined the term “Once a Loser, Always a Lover”
  • Will stay up all night helping others do homework
  • Will bring cakes for literally every event
  • Is somehow the world’s best speller
  • Will edit English essays for free
  • Knows the lyrics to literally every pop song
  • Is in choir


  • Is still a germaphobe
  • Is the biology/health teacher’s favorite student and can often be found giving the younger kids tutorials
  • Swears he was conned into dating Richie and the only reason they haven’t broken up is because of the discount he gets at the ice cream place Richie works at (even though all of the Losers have walked in on them making out happily)
  • Always has the word Lo(s)ver written on his arm because Richie can’t resist
  • Is still bullied a bit but gives exactly zero shits because, dammit, he faced everyone’s worse fucking nightmare- a stupid bully is nothing
  • Will cry at sad movies
  • Has a small section in the paper called “Eddie’s Health Tip of the Day”
  • Somehow became the lunch ladies best friend, debatably because he always keeps the Loser’s table clean
  • Is secretly (not secretly at all) in love with Richie Tozier


  • It goes without saying that he’s the class clown
  • Has orchestrated the last three senior class pranks even though he wasn’t a senior
  • Will fight anyone who even looks at Eddie the wrong way
  • Life’s goal is to make his rude math teacher’s life a living hell
  • Calls anyone who pulls off a good prank his rival
  • Swears that he will pay Ben back and also didn’t con Eddie into dating him
  • Works at an ice cream parlor
  • Will do literally /any/ dare
  • Is at every single party, no matter what
  • Will DJ your party, even if you don’t ask for it
  • Once managed to play in an entire game of football without that coach realizing he wasn’t on the team
  • MC’s both the school announcements and the football games
  • Sometimes shows up to Stan’s clubs just to make fun of him
  • Is really fucking lucky that Stan hasn’t beat him up yet
  • Is really fucking lucky that /no one/ has beat him up yet


  • Is president of the Bird Watchers club and vice of the Chess club
  • Is involved in the Jewish club, even though he’s not very religious
  • Is treasurer of Student Council
  • Is not amused by Richie’s “Jews are good with money!” jokes
  • Has been in love with Bill Fucking Denbrough since eighth grade
  • Will threaten to slap Richie at least once a day
  • Is also involved with the environmental club
  • Will do all of your math homework if you ask nicely enough
  • Usually buys all of the stuff for the Loser’s
  • Is pretty much the closest thing the Loser’s have to both a conscience and a moral compass
  • Will give the absolute dirtiest looks to people who are mean
  • Can silence anyone with a look
  • Is relatively quiet in class, but when he does answer a question it usually leaves the class speechless
  • Has a column in the school newspaper simply titled Ask Stan where he gives people logical advice about life (it’s surprisingly popular)


  • Is popular but unlike Mike, no one can figure out why; some people say it’s because he plays basketball, some say it’s because he grew up to be rather handsome and very kind, and some say it’s because he goes to a support group for people who have lost loved ones and he befriended one of the most popular girls at school who lost her father
  • But others would swear on their mother’s graves that it’s because one time during lunch Bill slipped on a strawberry, tried to catch himself on a table, and ended up accidently doing a flip over it in front of the whole school to the applause of everyone when he landed it
  • Can often be caught daydreaming about Stanley Uris in history class
  • Has drawn portraits of every Loser that have won prizes (although he’s drawn more of Stan than everyone else)
  • Is so fucking oblivious to his own feelings that the Loser’s (besides Stan, for obvious reasons) had to give him an intervention after his history grades started slipping
  • Heads and writes for the school newspaper and always slips in little poems Ben writes plus short stories he writes plus everything else the Loser’s want in it

Red Grouse (Lagopus lagopus scotica) as czuciki/Totem // Etsy


‘I hold the secret of the moors and heather in my red-brown feathers. I have a strong mind, a strong will, but if I wish it, you’ll never see me. What a strange relationship with humans I have. Hunted and roasted, but medicated too, with humans offering a grit for me to eat to make me healthy once more. I teach of what it is to have widely varying relationships, even with the same people. Harm and health sometimes come in the same package. Beyond this, I teach what I have always taught: the secrets of the moors, the whisperings of the plants that don’t grow as grandly as a beech or ash, but stay close to the silent wisdom of the earth. I am fierce and passionate, I fight for what I believe in and I don’t always compromise, because I know what’s best for me. If you need a stronger voice, but the ability to stay calm and grounded, look to me. If you seek the wisdom of the moors, I will share it with you, if you show me patience and respect.’


All done in ink, watercolour pencil and coloured pencil, with some metallic paint highlights, on illustration board.


“Hey, whose that over there?”  Craig asked, slapping J’s shoulder and nodding in your direction as you stood at the door of the school watching the students leave for the day.

“My teacher.”  J replied.  “Why?”  He glanced over at his Uncle.

“Jesus Christ, she’s your teacher?”  J nodded.  “Are you to old for parent teacher conferences?  That’s still a thing right?”


“Don’t tell Smurf when one comes up.  Tell me.”  J chuckled and Craig sent you one last glance before he pulled out of the schools parking lot and started up the road.


I remember the days of self-hatred. I remember the moments where I told my mother how much I hated who I was. I remember the people who helped push me down. Little did they know that they pushed me down just for me to jump up twice as high. So thank you to my bullies. Thank you to those white twins from back in the day. That light skinned boy from elementary. Mr. Leblanc for telling me I wasn’t going to amount to anything in just the sixth grade. That girl from high school that asked me dumb questions about my skin as if I was an abnormal animal. My old teachers that always had something to say about my hair. And to modern society, for creating the root of self hatred for millions of little dark skinned black girls with kinky hair like mine. I am so grateful for you all. For if it wasn’t for your wall of hatred, I wouldn’t know how to break through walls today.

Imagine being Craig’s hidden fiance and being J’s teacher that he has a crush on.

It was another ordinary school day for J, sit through classes, avoid teacher’s attention, try not to fall asleep. That is until Ms. Kleman’s class. She was his favorite teacher, if not just because she was gorgeous, but because she taught his favorite subject in a way that made it the best part of the day. He hated admitting it to himself but he had a crush on his teacher.

Keep reading


Sequel to this imagine.

Reminder to send in requests because my ask box is empty!

“You must be J’s Uncle.”  you greeted, standing up from your desk to shake Craig’s hand as he walked in for your meeting.  He shook it, eyes quickly taking in your pencil skirt and blouse before you both sat down.

“Call me Craig.”  He smiled, smoothing back his hair.  You smiled softly, shuffling the papers around in front of you a little bit.

“Craig.  I’m sorry, I thought J’s grandmother was going to come in for this meeting.”  Craig gave you a dazzling smile before shrugging.

“She was a little busy so she sent me instead.  You complaining about me coming instead?”  He teased.  You felt your cheeks go red as you quickly shook your head.

“No- I mean that’s… I didn’t mean that.”  You stuttered, laughing awkwardly as Craig started to laugh.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.  But if you really feel sorry how about you take me out to dinner to make up for it?”  He grinned, causing you to get flustered all over again.

Hospital For Souls

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Request by an anon: Hello!:) Can you do a imagine where the reader has a really bad accident during quidditch and draco panics and rushes to madame pomfrey and fluff? Thanks! <3

Admittedly, looking back now, it seemed as though everyting that occured was a tad too conventional, which of course, is always a sign worth assessing. The grounds held an air of complacency, which masked the inexplicable uneasiness in the atmosphere.

The dread settling upon his chest should have warned him otherwise, yet, Draco remained unyeilding to the multiple shivers running up his back at every gust of wind. 

Draco stared intently at the spot where Y/N had disappeared from at Madam Hooche’s whistle. Only fleeting glimpses of mustard and crimson could be caught lashing like whips in the storm. The commentary was as incomprehensible as the players themselves. It was as the crowds had and the Quidditch match had begun to grow in intensity that they appeared. Billowing cloaks merged into the fierce sky like acrid smoke from a house fire. The faceless enigmas that hovered above the players were vengeful ghosts seeking closure.

Potter and Diggory had disappeared into the smog merely minutes before the creatures had dispersed in search of prey. Distant screams plagued the atmosphere as rain marred vision and dementors loomed like omens of death above them.

Fear unlike anything he’d ever experienced infiltrated his chest. Y/N was up there. If she was attacked….no one would see, nor hear…be able to save her. He’d heard the accounts of how Dementors sucked the souls out of their victims; leaving behind only an empty shell of the person. Clambering down from the seats, Draco sprinted in search of a means to halt the match. He’d barely crossed a few metres before a vicious strike of lightning streaked the sky and illuminated the area surrounding it. It was by chance that he caught a glimpse of her. A fear-stricken yell tore from his throat as one of the gnarled creature’s claw clamped around Y/N’s throat.

Time lost its pace and stretched innumerably. Draco lost all sense of hearing and could barely register himself screaming above the rest of the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a body shrouded in scarlet fall from the heavens like a bullet. Vaguely, he registered Dumbledore casting a spell and halting them before they hit the ground. But his focus was on Y/N. Her suspended form hung like a puppet in the Dementor’s grasp. His quivering hand plunged within his robes and aimed at her body, bracing himself for when she fell. It seemed like hours before she was let go, a silvery animal cast by a teacher had charged towards the creature and forced it away. Gathering his strength, Draco yelled, “ARRESTO MOMENTUM!” Stabs of relief shocked his numb body as her form slowed before hitting the ground and the impact lessened.

Gulping down tankards of air, Draco streaked across the battlefield of a pitch and flung down beside Y/N’s immobile form. The storm’s determination to unleash it’s rage above refused to cease as teachers and students surrounded Y/N. Someone had gripped his upper arm and hauled him to his feet but he couldn’t care less who they were. Floating eerily above the grass, two conjured stretchers supporting the injured players flew towards the hospital wing.

All rationalty failed him as he flung himself into a sluggish sprint after them. Burning lungs and splitting thighs accompanied him into the hospital wing whilst Madam Pomfrey hustled towards him; demanding an explanation. A string of incoherent words flew from his mouth as he rushed to explain the horror he had witnessed. 

“Will she be alright? Let me help. I’ll do anything. She can’t die, don’t let her die. What are you doing with that?! Send her to Saint Mungos, woman!” Draco stressed, going into a full blown panic attack.  

“Mr Malfoy do calm down, she will be fine! Sit, sit. And drink the draught, boy!” Madam Pomfrey fretted as she shoved him into a seat beside Y/N and handed him a steaming glass of calming draught. 

Draco casted the draught aside mindlessly and gripped Y/N’s hand tightly. “My father will be hearing about your incompetence woman, if you don’t heal her instantly-”

“Mr Malfoy!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, scandalised. “There is no need for such impudence-”

“ ’s fine, Draco, ’m alright.” Y/N mumbled faintly, succeeding in erradicating the argument.

“Y/N!” Draco exclaimed worriedly. “Y/N I-”

Y/N lifted her hand arduously and smoothed it over Draco’s crowned hair. “Shh, I’m okay.” she croaked out with a weak smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I’ll get father to speak with Fudge, get the Dementors punished and taken from the school.” Draco stated determinedly. “They won’t get away with this, I promise.” he finished softly and pressed his lips to her temple. “Y/N wrapped her arms, frailly, around his neck and pulled him closer. Draco’s intoxicating scent was slightly washed out by rain, but was nonetheless comforting. Burying her face into his warm neck, Y/N fought back tears. 

“I can agree with you there, Mr Malfoy. Creatures like that have no place within this school. Now take this sleeping draught if you need it, Miss Y/L/N. I’ll see you in the morning.” Madam Pomfrey said authoritatively and placed the sloshing glass atop the table and bustled off to attend to Potter. 

“Don’t leave me.” Y/N whispered pleadingly against his neck.

“Never.” Draco whispered vehemently and planted a chaste kiss on her lips before her eyes fluttered shut and she lost consciousness.

Spirit Guide Types

Originally posted by animated-disney-gifs

1. Masters

Masters (or Ascended Masters) are those who work closely with people who do energy work. There goal is to help humanity as a whole (i.e. Buddha, Krishna, Jesus, etc…). If a Master appears to you as a spirit guide, then chances are you aren’t the only one he/she is helping. It isn’t uncommon for Masters to have access to Akashic Guides, also referred as Master Teacher Guides. 

2. Ancestral

These guides have some sort of kinship with you. This could be Aunt Bell who passed away when you were three or a long deceased relative that you have never met and that have been gone for sometime. These guides are pulled to you because of a blood connection, depending on you path, they can also be referred as Guardian Angels

3. Common/Teacher

These types of guides can appear in various forms (warrior, wise woman, storyteller), they appear as whatever archetypal, symbolic or representative guide you are in need of. They are there to lead you down a particular path and once they see that you are no longer in need of them they disappear. They tend to provide insight by way of dreams or mediation.

4. Animal

Many claim to have animal spirit guides (such as myself), but they are more companions than anything else. Animals, because of there intense loyalty, can be known to hang around to help there owner/companion through the grieving process after there owner/companion has lost them. Native Americans or those who follow the shamanic path, may use an animal totem for teachings/protections. 

There are many types of spirit guides, they can appear to you at anytime of your life and guide through important parts of your life. They are there to help, not inhibit you. Respect them and they will certainly respect you, and be weary. Trust your instincts. 


Blessed Be 

(Yes, Mushu isn’t a “spirit”, but he is a guide. Just to show you that spirit guides can take any form they please. Including a tiny, annoying lizard…I mean dragon)

Imagine being J’s favorite teacher and Pope taking a liking to you at conferences

“Why did we all have to come to this anyway?” Pope grumbled trailing behind the rest of the family. It was the night of J’s student teacher conferences and for some reason, he had suggested all the guys come.

“Trust me, you guys will love Ms. y/l/n.” J said with a sly grin, leading the group down the hallway.

Keep reading

Soulmate AU

The first time Lance saw the red markings on his forearm, he had thought he was bleeding. He had yelped, but upon further inspection, noticed it was writing. He had only recently learned to read, but he could tell this person had only recently learned to write.
‘Are you real?’ was messily scrawled in red marker, taking up the majority of the inside of his arm. The angled 'A’ starting at the crook of his elbow, and the squiggled question mark ended at the ball of his wrist. He had hastily ran to his dresser and threw open the drawer that was currently overflowing with coloring books. His tanned fingers found his green pencil box in the middle of the pile, and tried pulling it out. It was wedged between a particularly large Dora coloring book and a Spongebob pencil collection. He forced all his body weight down, and eventually the pencil case was free. Due to the evil force we call gravity, Lance’s body flew backwards and he fell to the floor. He scrambled to pop open the box and grabbed the first writing utensil he saw. The blue ink from the pen bled slightly against his skin, but he smiled as his hard work paid off.
'No. I am a alien.’

Keith glared at the words in front of him. He felt personally offended. He put the cap back on his red, Crayola marker and slid off his bed. His tiny legs carried him out the door and down the hall to his older brother, Shiro’s room.
“Shiro!” he squealed as he ran through the threshold.
Shiro jumped, but smiled warmly and sat his book down upon seeing the child in front of him. Keith rammed forward and threw himself up and over the bed in front of him. Shiro’s arms shot out and caught him just before his small frame hit the floor. He giggled as Shiro sighed and lifted him up onto his comforter.
“You have got to stop doing that!” Shiro scolded.
“Yeah, otay,” Keith mumbled and leaned over to grab the marker that had fallen out of his pocket. “Listen, otay, aliens are real, right?”
Shiro looked bewildered for a moment before he shrugged and answered, “Sure.”
“Yeah! So what should I say?” Keith asked and shoved his arm in his brother’s face. Shiro laughed when he saw the messy words on his arm.
“Well, first, you should correct their grammar. They’re AN alien. Then inform them that aliens are, in fact, real.”
Keith smiled as he wrote.

'Have you ever heard of mothman?’ appeared on 12 year old Lance’s left leg as he set down his comic book and examined one of the few remaining bare pieces of skin.
'What’s a mothman?’ he wrote back, smiling. They continued the conversation with the traditional blue and red ink until his very last inch of skin was covered with words.

'What color is your hair?’
Keith stared at the words and considered lying. Him and his soulmate have talked everyday since they were five, but they’ve never mentioned anything about appearances. He knew plenty of things about his soulmate, for sure. Their favorite color, favorite animal, their teachers’ names, their their subject, their deepest secrets, his pets, and he knew every detail about all three times they had broken their arms. He even learned more Spanish from them than he did in class. The clumsy human never failed to tell Keith everything, down to the smallest detail, even if it took up the entirety of a limb. He realized it would be completely and utterly unfair to lie and wrote 'black’ in neat writing beneath the question on his wrist.
'Awesome. Mine’s brown.’
They continued to describe themselves and Keith smiled as he attempted to imagine the Latino boy.

Lance woke up and groaned. He turned around and weakly opened his eyes to read 12:00 am flashing on his alarm clock. His eyes widened as he noticed the writing, 'Happy 15th Birthday!’ was written in bright red calligraphy across his stomach.

Keith was in the shower when a bright red splotch appeared in a rather private area. He blushed and ignored it, and continued his shower without thinking about it. He was wrapping a towel around his waist when the red splotch had turned into splotches, and there were angry scratch marks on his dick.
“What the fuck?” he asked aloud. He rushed into his room to throw on some clothes and grabbed the red marker off the shelf next to his bed. 'What the fuck are you doing?’ he wrote on his forearm, his face burning.
Keith laughed, but couldn’t ignore the heat that appeared in his stomach at the thought of what his soulmate had attempted to do.

Something cold had bloomed inside Lance’s chest as sudden cuts and bruises appeared all over his tall, lanky frame. He sat up straight and threw off his dark blue covers. He snatched the blue pen and sat back down. He anxiously looked at his alarm clock. 3:00 am. He bit the inside of his cheek out of anxiety and squiggled a quick 'r u ok?’ There was no response. He waited a few minutes and attempted again. He threw off his shirt and pajama pants and covered his whole body in blue ink. He laid in bed, eyes staring blankly at he ceiling, as he pondered what could’ve happened to him.

Keith woke up suddenly, sweat pooling around him and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a hospital. He blinked and the flash of headlights appeared in his vision. He shivered and wrapped his arms around his legs, and that’s when he noticed the writing. He kicked off the white blankets to see that every inch of his body was covered in blue ink. His eyes watered up as he read the question he knew he was bound to be bombarded with in just a few hours. 'R u ok?’
He looked around and all he could see was a black Sharpie setting on the table beside him.

Lance had attempted writing to his soulmate, but no matter what he wrote, the boy would never answer. He’d worried himself to the point of throwing up when he the black word had appeared on his stomach. Now, he was terrified. Silence for months, then suddenly deep scars appeared on his thighs. The first time it was small scratches across his heart and hips. After that, he’d cut a few sharp lines down his thighs. But nothing compared to this. The angry, puffy lines were random and all over his thighs. Lance was terrified and didn’t do anything at first, but this time, he wasn’t going to remain silent. He grabbed his paints off the top shelf of his closet and created beautiful flowers and vines to cover the scars.
The cutting was less frequent after that, and continued to dwindle every time Lance painted over the cuts. He was glad he helped. For the first time in a year, red cursive appeared on his wrist.
Thank you.

Lance was sitting in his room when a thought formed in his head. He grabbed the familiar blue pen, and thought of all the crazy things that had happened to him in such a short span of time. For the first time in four months he wrote to his soulmate.
'I guess you were right. Aliens are real.’
He wasn’t expecting a reply and he smiled largely as he watched red ink appear on his tan skin.
'Yeah. My brother was abducted by them.’
He laughed.

Keith was laughing at a stupid remark Lance had made when he noticed them. Red, jagged marks, similar to his own, were all over his thighs. He’d wondered how he hadn’t noticed them sooner considering how often Lance wears booty shorts around the ship. His eyes widened when they saw him, and Lance seemed to notice the change in mood because his smile abruptly dropped and he looked at Keith worryingly. Keith sighed and sat on the cool tile next to Lance.
“Lance, if you ever need somebody to talk to, I’m here. I know people who hurt themselves in a similar way, and I hate to see those marks-”
Lance interrupted hurriedly, “No! No, I mean, they’re not mine. My soulmate does it. I- I have no idea why. We haven’t talked in a few months.”
Keith nodded understandingly and wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a hug. Lance didn’t miss the way Keith winced when his knee accidentally brushed his thigh.

Lance was inspired by the way Keith had jumped to talk to him about the marks on his thighs. Fresh ones had just appeared, and once again, he grabbed the blue pen.
'Why do you cut?’
He winced at the insensitivity of the words, and cursed himself for the blunt question. His heart ached at the response. 'I miss my mom.’
Lance couldn’t figure out a way to reply, and he certainly couldn’t sleep after the exchange, so he found himself throwing on clothes and walking out the door. His mind was focused on the exchange, but his legs carried him to Keith’s room. He waited anxiously outside for a few moments before he hesitantly knocked on the door. There was a loud crash coming from inside, a slammed door, the sound of drawers opening and closing, and then finally the sound of running water before Keith’s voice was heard. “Come in!”
Lance raised an eyebrow and hesitantly walked in.
“What was all the commotion?” Lance asked.
“Uh, nothing, I was just,” he sighed before whispering, “in the bathroom.” Keith’s face was bright red and there were tear stains on his cheeks.
“Are you okay?” Lance questioned further as he walked to sit next to Keith on his bed.
Keith looked up at him and nodded. “I’m fine.”
Lance glared at him for a moment before deciding not to bother Keith about it and showed him his arm.
“What should I say?” Lance asked after a moment of silence. He looked at Keith’s face and wondered if maybe this was too personal to show an only semi-close friend. “I have no idea why he misses his mom, and I’m afraid that asking would be rude-”
“We were in a car accident,” Keith mumbled, interrupting Lance.
Lance went quiet. “What?” he whispered in response.
“We were in a car accident,” Keith repeated, louder this time. Lance still didn’t understand, but Keith continued. His voice cracked as he clung onto his composure. “We were on our way home from visiting Shiro. I was 16. I was asleep, but the headlights woke me up. I remember screaming, and suddenly we were upside down. I was in the passenger seat, when I woke up. I turned around and I saw my mom. Half of her body was-” he cut himself off with a choked sob, but had to keep going, “she-she was- half her body was- out the windshield.” He couldn’t keep going after that. He was shivering and his arms were tightly locked around his knees.
Realization dawned on Lance and he threw his arms around Keith, pulling him into a hug.

'Hurry up and come to the training room! It’s an emergency!’
Lance blanched when he saw the words and ran as fast as he could to the room. He skidded to a halt and glared at the laughing figures of Keith and Pidge.
“You two should’ve never became friends,” he whined.
“Okay, but watch this!” Keith and Pidge were giggling like madmen. Lance was confused as Pidge had their fingers hovering over specific keys on their laptop, and Keith was on the other side of the room, his hands both hovering over the emergency siren. Lance’s eyes widened, “Keith don’t-”
He was cut off by Keith yelling, “NOW!” Both of them slammed their hands down. Suddenly heavy metal music was blaring through every speaker on the ship and all the lights were out except a few. The few that were still on were multicolored and useless for actually seeing anything.
“I hate both of you,” Lance yelled over the obnoxious music. He heard Pidge’s loud laugh and glared at the general direction the noise had come from. He jumped when arms wrapped around his waist from behind. “You could never hate me,” was whispered into his ear and he leaned into the touch.
“Yeah,” he smiled, replying, “I guess not.”

Draco in the fourth year?? ???
  • Draco: I'm going to make badges that insult potter
  • Draco: but hold on not just any badges
  • Draco: badges that fucking change
  • Draco: imma make one for every student
  • Draco: every damn student and teacher and animal and even hagrid's pets
  • Draco: and you know what
  • Draco: i'm going to charm every single damn one of them
  • Draco: but I'm only a fourth year so idk how to mass charm shit probably
  • Draco: i'll sit here in the common room surrounded by badges
  • Draco: i'll spend a week charming all of them one by one
  • Draco: no blaise don't help me I need to prove I can do this
  • Draco: because I hate potter so much
  • Draco: obviously

you-are-so-perfect-that-i  asked:

Armin is the kind of person that people think the could bully him, until their locker had this weird looking dead animal and the teacher received report that so called 'bully' is smoking weed behind gym when they didn't do it. Then that bully would saw Armin at a corner and that boy just grinned maliciously. Suffice to say, no one ever dare to even touch him

It tru


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“Smurf!”  The sudden harshness of his voice made you jump more than any yelling the older woman had been doing had.  An arm shot out to grab Smurf’s wrist and keep her locked into the desk chair she had been seated in for the parent teacher conference.  Her yelling ceased as she glared at him, wrenching her tiny wrist away from him before smoothing down the front of her shirt.

“That boy works hard on his homework.”  Her voice was more even the next time she spoke.  Guarded.  “Keep that in mind next time you’re grading his work.”