attack of the balloons

you all know the american high school au isayama’s got going, right?

the one at the end of every volume or whatever, with goth mikasa and jock reiner and whatnot?

so, hange’s a chemistry teacher in that au, therefore let me give you a list of things i swear they would totally do in that au for no particular reason whatsoever

  • doodle over students’ doodles when correcting homework/tests/etc
  • tell extremely bad but also extremely relevant puns
    • ex: “so we’re learning about moles today and i think you guys are really gonna dig it”
  • blow up a piece of glassware in a fume hood because they thought it would be fun to put pure lithium in water
  • set off the fire alarm at least once a year to the point where it becomes a running gag with the staff
  • go on strange tangents after lectures with armin or some other student while passing out homework
    • actually on that note they’d probably also use pop culture analogies that seem arbitrary at first but after a bit of explanation, make perfect sense
  • add a gag answer or two on their students’ finals
  • show the kids their favorite-and-still-somehow-very-relevant childhood movie on the last day of the semester
  • resell food that they have hidden in locked drawers during lunch because let’s be real here american schools suck with their budgets
  • have the entire periodic table memorized just to show off
    • (it’s not that hard to do)
    • they’d probably also have a challenge where they challenge their students to memorize and recite it too and whoever can do it wins mcdonald’s or something
  • explain the nuances of sex ed on a post-lecture tangent because they find out the biology classes are just that bad
  • be that one really cool and fun teacher that like half the students still don’t like because they’re apparently “obnoxious” or something

Oh since April Fools is tomorrow, let me remind any of y'all that are planning to do Homestuck stuff about it. John and Jane’s pranks are cute harmless ones like a bucket of water over the door or snakes in a can. They would never pull a meanspirited harmful prank on their friends, they wouldn’t even pull a typically harmless one if they knew that it may harm the specific person they’d be pulling it on (ex. Attacking Dave with a fake sword balloon would definitely give him a panic attack, but doing it to Rose probably wouldn’t phase her much). John and Jane like pranks but they aren’t assholes. They don’t wanna hurt their friends, they wanna mildly annoy them with something they can laugh about later.

High Noon, Hammers, Giant Plushies and Enchanted Bottles

Context; My party was having a sort-of “Filler Episode” in which we got to go to a festival in the Marketplace of the city. Our party consists of Three Tieflings (a Gunslinger (me), a Bladedancer, and a Barbarian), a Dragonborn (a Bard), an Elf (a Wizard, who was not able to attend that session), and a Druid (a Catfolk).

Me: (OOC) Alright, since I’m the gunslinger here, I’m going first for the balloon game. 

DM: Ok, go ahead. What weapons do you have, just your pistol?

Me: (OOC) Nah, I got my pistol and a Rifle.

DM: Ok, roll for that then. You’re not actually shooting with your actual rifle, the guy that works at the stand hands you a very steampunk-y rifle, and when you shoot it it makes a “pffffwt” sound, like air rushing being pumped through a pipe.

[I roll a Nat20, which turns into a 27 because of my +7 bonus for each attack with a firearm)

Me: (OOC) Oh, fuck yes. I Deadeye’d those Balloons!

DM: …. Well, the guy is fucking terrified of you now. You, get every balloon with every shot, not once missing. You literally the max amount of points you could get in this game. Time to choose your prize.

Me: (OOC) Do I get a giant plushie??

DM: Yes you do.

Bladedancer: (OOC) Do they have an Owlbear plushie?

DM: Sure, why not.

Me: What’s an Owlbear? [goes to google images to check it out] Oh my god. I take the giant Owlbear. I love my giant Owlbear.

—-

Skip to a different game. It’s the game where you have to throw a ball into a tower of bottles for a prize.

Me: (OOC) Alright.. Since everyone is failing miserably, let’s hope my golden snitch is still there for this.

[Proceeds to Roll another Nat20]

Me: (OOC) Oh.

DM: [snickers] The throw is absolutely beautiful, you hit the tower perfectly, just so that every bottle falls over…

Me: (OOC) No. Do not.

DM: Except one.

Druid: (OOC) I grab my crossbow and shoot the last bottle.

Stand owner: (voiced by DM) Aw, what a shame. Better luck next tiIIIME!!

DM: He said this as you pull out your crossbow and shoot the bottle. Your escort immediately rushes in, apologizing to the owner of the stand, and swiftly takes you away from the stand to tell you off.

——

By now our Barbarian is upset he hasn’t got a giant plushie, and goes to a “Slam the Hammer” game where you have to hit a button with a hammer and hit it strong enough to make it hit a bell at the top of a pole.

DM: [starts snickering again] As you approach the game, the man holding the game sees Kali (my Gunslinger) and says “Ah, you! Do you wish to test your strength?”

Kali: No, thank you. But Kavir here would like to. [he steps aside to reveal a 4'9" Tiefling that looks like a child]

DM: Alright, Kavir, just a straight strength check. And, yes, you get advantage because you’re, technically, in a Rage. (we had asked about that before-hand)

Barbarian: (OOC) Sweet. [Rolls a Nat20] …………… YES!

[the entire party briefly loses their shit]

DM: I.. Alright, the man reaches to give you the smaller hammer meant for children, but you just go for the large hammer that is taller than you are. You take that hammer, lift it over to your head, and with an enraged roar you slam it down, making the bell at the top of the pole ring loudly. The man definitely seems stunned, and there is a small applause from the crowd around you. The prizes are many items, including a large pink bunny plush-

Barbarian: (OOC) I take the plushie. I need that plushie.

DM: You take the plushie and, like the hammer, it’s much larger than you are.

Me: (OOC) [still laughing softly] What a great session. Question though, how are we gonna transport these two giant plushies around?

Bladedancer: (OOC) That… Is a very good question.

Callout post - The Balloon Squad:

Elias Bakkoush: Gets called out by his bros for teasing his sister and becomes a Flustered Mess™.

Yousef Acar: Gets caught dancing by the girl he’s crushing on and becomes a Shy Mess™.

Adam Malik: Gets attacked by McDonald’s Balloons in the face …. Mess™.

Mikael Øverlie Boukhal: Bench presses on like 5kg weights …. Mess™.

Mutasim Tatouti: Cannot keep a straight face for the life of him and is always wrapped up in his Red Chaadar™. 

Skam Tag

Things I come to the SKAM tag for:

  • Translations (thank you, you wonderful beautiful translating souls)
  • Theories about every single clip because I am unobservant AF and you guys see and notice so much more than I
  •  Education on topics included in SKAM from fans that know first hand
  • Stunning fan art and gifs that I want to reblog a hundred times over
  •  Funny relatable posts that make me feel included in the SKAM community

Things I DON’T come to the SKAM tag for (and am, quite frankly, tired of seeing):

Racism/Sexism

  • This should say enough in itself. I honestly cannot believe that Julie Andem is trusting us with such a beautiful and progressive storyline in having Sana as a main and there is literally Islamophobia and racism everywhere on the tag
  •  Please get it together and prove to Julie that we both deserve this season and are going to give it the respect it should be receiving
  • Also, please educate yourselves before attacking everyone on here. Goodness gracious how can you attack someone’s ignorance when you are ignorant I am confused
  • The double standards and sexism on this tag is ridiculous
  • There are so many posts bashing the boys squads for things the girls can do just fine and vice versa, it’s sad

Hardcore judgment /hypocrisy

  • Seriously, the character judgment and hypocrisy on this tag is disgusting and I am talking specifically about people who are posting:
  • Hating on Elias for this whole slave thing as if siblings have never acted this way towards each other (I would hate for you all to see some of the nonsense my sister and I say to each other)
  • Hating on the balloon squad for “ignorant” comments when they  let our other boy squad slide for SO MANY ignorant comments last season (as if character growth on this show is not a thing?!?! Like?!?!?)
  • Hating on Eva for “stealing” Jonas from Ingrid (and yes, seriously,  I just saw this yesterday), but not saying shit when it came to Even CHEATING on Sonja with Isak
  • Hating on the balloon squad (whom we HARDLY know) but letting Vilde’s ignorance slide because “she is a flawed character but is growing so much omg” 

Evak Evak Evak

  • I love Evak as much as the next SKAM fan and their storyline was incredible and some posts here and there is both expected and wanted but really guys?? The entire skam tag is basically Evak and Sana deserves so much more than this, her storyline is so important, can we chill out on this please, we can enjoy Evak while giving Sana the attention she deserves

DISCLAIMER: This is in NO way directed at “everyone.” I just want us all to enjoy this LAST season and the characters and the growth as a community. I want to be able to participate in and enjoy the SKAM tag.

anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

A MESS

That’s what the SKAM fandom has become. A fucking mess between :  

- The creepy fans. They are hardcore fans. They are obsessed with Evak. They watched like 50 times, season 3. They know every lines by heart. They managed to do 2-3 trip to Olso, not for the beauty of Norway of course, only to see the two principal actors. On tumblr, their only occupation is reblogging stuff concerning Evak, Tarjei Sandvik Moe (“MY PRECIOUS SON”) and Henrik Holm (“RAY of SuNshIne”) (“BEST ACTOR IN THE WORLD”) (“I’M SO EMOTIONAL” or “I’M CRYING Tarjei or Henrik is buying some orange juice”) and answering Anon who is telling them ”Gurl, it’s gross, stop shipping Tarjei and Henrik together.“ ” You have to distinguish the character from the actor“. They don’t care, they’re too far gone, they will keep shipping them anyway because “I don’t hurt anybody doing that”

Originally posted by hairsandfashion

 - The Norwegian weaboo. They throw some “Halla”, “Alt er love”, “Nei” and “Fy Faen” in ALL their fucking post even if they are just talking about idk lasagna. They remind you everyday that they are now master in Norwegian thanks to Duolingo. Suddenly, since Skam, half of Tumblr is Norwegian and live in Oslo and have (if it’s not them) ”friends who knew / go to the same school / did a party / hang out (cross out the wrong indications) with Henrik, Marlon and Tarjei". Yes, little we knew, Oslo is a village of 100 peoples.

- The Yousana shippers. Some muslims, many who aren’t. Innocent, they don’t understand what’s the big deal with the fact that Yousef doesn’t believe in God. Some even except a kiss between Yousef and Sana. LOL. My sweet summer child, you can wait. 

- The Jonas (”Eyebrows god”) stan. My favorite. They’re just worried about their fave since he disappeared completely this season. 

- The Eva stan. They’re just most of the time praising her and her “fabulous mermaid hair”. 

 - The seeker of the truth 1. The one who only care about this ETERNAL question in the universe : Is Vilde a lesbian ? They’re no doubt for them, and the answer is “YES”. They dislike Magnus with passion and (like 99% of the fandom) can’t stand Magnus and Vilde making out session. They reclaim the truth from Julie Andem ALL THE TIME. 

 - The seeker of the truth 2. The one who only care about contradict them. “Vilde is NOT a lesbian”. They’re personally offended by this supposition. Why ? Nobodies know.

- The artist. They just draw or do “aesthetic edit” about Skam. Half of their caption is “Alt er love”-“Du er ikke alene”-“Be kind. Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about”. If you have an “aesthetic gif set” about one of the girl squad then you can be sure that you will find the picture of “a MAC lipstick slightly open with behind a white grayish background” in it.  

 - The Penetrator Chris Stan. Mostly young, they live in their bubble. They don’t take part of any fandom’s drama because they’re not invested enough. Isak ? Nope. Even ? Nope. Sana ? Nope. Noora ? Nope. LGBTQ representation ? Nope. POC representation ? Nope. ON-LY THIS FUCK-BOY MA-TTER FOR THEM. You easily recognize them because of their self-insert-imagine Readers where they are “William’s little sister and Chris secret lover” or when “You (Y/N) and jealous Chris are fucking in the kitchen”. 

- The Noorhell shippers. Maybe they were the original, the first one, SKAM  fans on Tumblr. Who knows ? They live in the past. They are still too invested in their shitty ship. They are an endangered specie now or maybe just hiding till the Wilhelm hate shit storm calm down. 

- The pepsi-max girl stan. Just kidding, nobody care about them. 

- The “Guys I have this incredible NEW theory : water is wet”. They are like weeks late in the season and just rehearse a theory who was already confirmed or already enunciated already by hundred of persons before. 

Originally posted by jdm-negan-mcnaughty

-  DISCOURSE GROUP 1. The “Sana’s season is too boring”. Mostly white girl, mostly straight, “they can’t relate to Sana because “she (an arab muslim straight girl) is too different” but they had zero difficulties to relate to Isak during season 3 (a white gay boy). Why ? You already know the answer. You can pair them with the Evak creepy fangirl, most of them came from this group. Until know, they were just a pain in the ass with their “ok it’s not that I don’t care about Sana (in fact, surprise, they don’t) but WHERE IS EVEN ?”. They cried when the S4 trailers was released. After their little crisis, they wrote 10K long ass meta about why in fact every little details in this trailer was related to Even and not Sana. Still delusional, they don’t want to move on. They don’t talk or reblog stuff from S4, only from S3 (OR S4 but only if it concerns Evak of course). They wrote many theories about the balloon squad and how problematic they were. This friday, they were apparently “proven right” to their greatest joy with Mikael and Even’s story. YAY.  Since you can hear them yelling “all religions are evil and homophobic and needs to disappear (BUT if Islam could be the ONLY ONE to burn it would be nice”). Suddenly they adore Sonja (who was ”a bitch” during season 3) If you ask them not to jump to conclusion with Mikael (“the rat”), you are homophobic yourself and obviously awfully racist against white people (???). 

Originally posted by annefrankisgod

- DISCOURSE GROUP 2. The Sana’s stan/ muslims one. They waited so long for Sana’s season and muslim representation. They have no time for your “lowkey islamophobic white ass” (”Sana is too white in this gifset” “ Pepsi-max girls sucks” “We don’t care about Willhell/ Evak/ Noora ” ( cross out the wrong indications) ). This season is very personal for them but to their surprise, it’s anything but what they expected. They have mixed feelings every new clip. They tried to educate the others Skam fans about some concept of Islam but people are not very receptive so they started to give up. Despite friday clip, they are still defending Mikael and the balloon squad against the various attack from the DISCOURSE GROUP 1. Easily offended, they can be a little too protective of Sana, her mom, and the balloon squad.  It appears that they lost all their patience and decided for the best or the worst to let the fandom burn. 

- THE OTHERS. The one who just enjoy the show, their favorite characters and favorite ships. They’re just watching the drama from afar. Sometimes, they low-key have a side but are too lazy to make a post about it. They’re just incredibly tired of this mess. 

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Bye. 

2

Slowly building a college subhood for Poppyseed Ridge; here is a rather sparse (and likely to stay that way) Lulworth College.

Also forever struggling to place skyboxes and skylines correctly.

2

Toothbrush

Warnings - swearing, humour, fluff.

Pairings - Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader.

—-

It had been a tough week, a long week, and you were done with the whole prank phase Bucky had gotten himself into with Steve and Sam.

The last thing you ever expected was to return home from an awful mission which left you battered and sore, to then be assaulted by two super soldiers and a pigeon. By assaulted you meant getting pelted with paintballs and water balloons or water condoms as it were.

Their faces dropped when they realised you had gotten caught up in the crossfire, shrinking in confidence as your face turned red and your fingertips sparked with electricity. Wet H/C hair stuck to the sides of your paled face, your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose, and you tried your hardest to calm yourself. Four separate paintball explosions coated your chest and arms, and the sting of it made tears spring to your eyes, not only because it hurt, but also because you were past the point of exhaustion and you were extremely frustrated with how the mission went. Yes you got the job done, but it wasn’t as smooth as you would have liked it to be. And it pissed you off even more just thinking how they were messing around like children whilst you were in a country with your life potentially on the line.

“Fucking children,” you said under your breath before walking toward your bedroom, your bad held deathly tight in your grip as you stalked to the door, opening it before slamming it shut and making sure to lock it securely. If Bucky wanted to act like a child, then he could do it as far away from you as possible.

Without a second thought you stripped out of your gear and climbed beneath the black sheets of the bed, snuggling into Bucky’s scent.

That morning you thought he would have learnt his lesson, all of them, but when you opened the kitchen door and a bucketful of flour and eggs emptied over your head, coating your entire body, you were fuming. Tony entered the room from the other door and looked at your expression as you stood holding the doorknob, your mouth hung open and your eyes screaming rage and anger, “Bucky?”

You closed your eyes and sighed before shaking your head, “Nope, this was the Pigeon,” you hissed, “I’m gonna kill him,” you snapped as you headed down to the gym, lucky for you they were all working out together, three children on break time, “Hey, Wilson!” Sam turned around instantly at your booming voice before attempting to stifle a laugh.

There you stood, wearing shorts and a sports bra, with egg and flour stuck to your skin, “Hey, what’s up Y/N?” Sam leaned against the weight stand and watched your expression shift.

“What’s up?” You mimicked as you stormed over to him, “What’s up is that I’ve got your prank all over my fucking body,” you screamed, the electricity sparking at your fingertips again, “I got back from a really shit mission last night to be attacked with paintballs and water balloons made out of condoms, now I wake up and walk right into your trap, I’m fucking done with this shit-” Bucky reached out to you, wanting to calm you down but most off all apologise, you shook the Solider off as your fingers clapped around Sam’s wrist, allowing your current to shock his entire system, smirking as he fell to the floor, “You want a war? You’ve fucking got one,” you told them all as you walked away, leaving Sam jolting on the floor.

The rest of the week went on like that, they would pull and prank and piss you off more than before, you would retaliate and piss them off, you’d make up and go to bed, and then it would all start over the next day.

Bucky prized his hygiene, especially his teeth, and the one thing you knew was that his toothbrush was like his child. You loved Bucky’s white teeth and the smell of mint, but that day you wouldn’t be kissing him, or for the rest of that week for that matter. Bucky was in your shared bathroom, squeezing toothpaste onto the brush as putting it into his mouth and you internally gagged at the sight, smirking as his brows dipped in confusion and he removed the tool from his lips, inspecting it before carrying on with a frown, “What’s up Buck?” You asked as your eyes turned back to the book in your lap.

Bucky removed the brush from his mouth and turned to you, a towel around his waist which revealed his toned chest and arms, “I don’t know, my mouth tastes really strange this morning,” you hummed in response and watched from the corner of your eye as he turned around to carry on, still confused.

“Oh Buck?” You shouted and he hummed to say he was listening, “Remember yesterday when you ruined my favourite pair of panties by using them as a slingshot?” He chuckled and made a noise in confirmation, “Yeah well to get you back I brushed our toilet with your toothbrush,” he froze and looked at you, searching your face for any kind of joke, taking it out of his mouth, “And I did Steve’s too, and Tony’s, they’re really clean now, thanks for that.”

Bucky looked at his reflection before turning back to you, “You’re joking right?” He asked with paste dribbling down his chin, you shook your head and watched as he spat the paste out and gagged furiously, “Why would you do that?” He choked as he drank mouthwash from the bottle.

“I told you that this was war, didn’t I?”


Just some fun, more Bucky stuff will be up tomorrow night and over the weekend 😘

Rent-a-Boyfriend™ Drabble

Read the original: Rent-a-Boyfriend™
Read more at Service Series

Words: 1.7k
Genre: Fluff. Lots of it. 
I know this fic is a favourite amongst all of you and though I don’t have any ideas for an entire sequel, I hope this will suffice. 


You’re scared for your life.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic but you can’t call yourself over the top when Taehyung’s your boyfriend.

And recently you learnt how much he loves to celebrate holidays.

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The Doc with the Butterfly Tattoo

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count:  1949

Warning: One swear, nsfw mention but not explicit, tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: I’m very annoyed that this header pic is pixel-y bc i spent a good 2 hours editing it but of course tumblr’s size guide messed it up *sigh


“Nurse Y/L/N,” Bones said, popping into the exam room where you were triaging your newest patient. “Will you see me in my office when we’re done here?” Bones put a hand on the small of your back as he took the PADD from you, and you knew immediately what he wanted.

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