five days of her

I’m Not Promise, I Drunk (Pt. III)

Part One, Part Two

Fandom: Riverdale

Pairing: Jughead Jones x reader, BestFriend!Cheryl

Request: Yes and no

Summary: After days of Jughead avoiding her, [Y/N] finally plucks up the courage to fix her mistakes and figure out what was really bothering her ex-boyfriend, but she didn’t expect what had ticked his brain.

Warnings: None

Word count: 4,569

A/N: This is the last part of this mini-series! Hope you guys like it. So sorry that it came so late. I’ve been drowning in school work. The last part of this is very rushed but I hope it’s okay. There will be no other parts to this.

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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™ .

8

The The Adventure Zone Lady Zone, Day Five: Angst! Julia did die, her husband did live.

(continuation of this! those tags killed me, thank you @sickburnsides )

Haha okay, the teacher I have for YA Lit is amazing. I had her for Sci-Fi Fiction before. But the thing is she was given this class five days before it started since she’s taking over for another teacher.

So her syllabus starts out normal, right? Like…

But then…

And then…

By the time it hits mid March…

So.

So.

Done.

Really excited about this class, man.

6

Headcanon that Holtzmann have a lot of fun toying with dress codes to mess with snobbish people at formal events. 

Bonus:

  • *in a cab; on the way to the christening*
  • Molly: *happily* Oh isn't this exciting? I bet she looks lovely. And John and Mary are wonderful parents...
  • Sherlock: *on his phone* Mmm.
  • Molly: *sighs* Oh, her name is just beautiful *giggles* I always wanted to name my daughter Persephone.
  • Sherlock: *glances at her*
  • Molly: *rolls her eyes* Hey, I was eleven at the time and really into all that mythology stuff.
  • Sherlock: *still typing* There are worse names for a child than Persephone Holmes.
  • Molly: ...
  • Molly: *raises an eyebrow* Why would it be Holmes?
  • Sherlock: *shrugs* I always assumed you'd take your husband's name.
  • Molly: *scoffs* Yeah, well, I'm not going to marry Mycroft!
  • Sherlock: *confused* We've been sleeping together and you think-
  • Molly: *giggles* No, I mean, I just thought you weren't the marrying kind.
  • Sherlock: *sighs* Sex, Molly. I don't do that with just anyone.
  • Molly: *raises an eyebrow* You love me?
  • Sherlock: Obviously.
  • Molly: *smirks* I'm sorry? I didn't catch that.
  • Sherlock: *smiles* I love you.
  • Molly: *takes his hand* I love you too.
  • Sherlock: *coughs* So you'll...marry me, then?
  • Molly: *kisses his cheek* Of course I will.
5

“the plum tree in our back garden has withered because i have not seen the sun for five days. i have been worshiping at the cradle of her hips 

father, she has cleansed me with those hands and those eyes, i do not know how to turn unless it is towards her, i do not know where to go except in her direction.”

- azra t // take me to church

The first and last woman to be hanged in New Mexico was 19-year-old Paula Angel. The crime which led her to the gallows was “as old as Eden.” On 23 March, 1861, Angel stabbed her lover, Miguel Martin, to death. Martin was a married man and a father of five who had been having an affair with Angel behind his wife’s back. Seemingly bored with the affair, Martin decided he would call it off. Within a day, Angel was apprehended for the murder and her trial was held just five days later. After being found guilty, she was sentenced to hang the following month. Her time in jail was short and torturous. It was reported that the sheriff taunted her daily by reminder her how many days she had left on earth.

As the execution date rolled around, Angel was told to sit on top of her coffin in the back of the wagon as they drove to the spot she would be killed - a tree on a cottonwood grove. There was no gallows. She was to be hanged from a tree. As the noose was tied around her neck and she was strung up to hang, it was noticed that the sheriff had forgot to tie her hands. The crowd stood in shock as Angel grabbed at her neck and tried to loosen the rope. As she was slowly being choked to death, the sheriff wrapped his arms around her waist to attempt to weight her down and facilitate her demise. The crowd booed and ordered she be cut down. The sight was unbearable.

The execution was momentarily halted so that the sheriff could tie Angel’s hands behind her back. Moments later, she was hanged once again. This time, it was successful and Angel finally perished.

Jaws - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky accidentally punches you in the face during a training session, which somehow leads to your first kiss and the promise of a date.

Warnings: Kissing.

Words: 1 328

A/N: Very boring drabble that is kinda similar to Lift in terms of the layout. Tell me what you think and please request!

TAKING REQUESTS

Originally posted by you-didnt-see-that-cuming


She ducked under his punch, getting back up just as quickly and trying to elbow his chest. He grabbed hold of her joint and pushed her back. As she came rushing back in for a straight punch to his face, his metal hand flew right to her jaw.

She staggered back before falling to her knees. Her hair fell in front of her face and a few strands stuck to her glistening forehead, a long groan escaping her.

“Oh fuck, Y/N. I’m so sorry!” Bucky panicked, surprised as he thought she would have been able to see through his techniques as always and dodged his incoming attack.

He rushed to her side and knelt beside her, wrapping his arm around her back and using his free hand to remove the hair from her face. She whined in pain, trying to force a smile to not make him feel so bad but not being able to. “Okay, that one hurts… I’m not gonna lie.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He carefully tilted her head to get better lightning on her jaw which was red, bruising and already swollen. “Fuck. That’s bad.”

“I don’t know if it’s anything serious, but I can taste blood?” She looked up at him. “Maybe that’s just normal. Also, my left ear is ringing, or it might be my entire head actually, I can’t tell the difference right now.”

Bucky kept repeatedly mumbling curses as he softly placed his bionic hand over the bruise. She winced in pain at first but the cooling of the metal was better than not having it there at all.

“Remind me to wear a hockey helmet for our next training session or something…” She began to push herself up from the floor. Bucky tried to help her by continuing to hold his arm around her back, which turned out to be very helpful.

“Woah!” He exclaimed as she almost fell forward, his grip of her tightening and keeping her on her feet. “You okay?”

“I just got punched in the face with a hand that’s literally made out of metal. Pardon me if I’m a little dizzy.” She chuckled, her voice strained from the pain radiating up her jaw and numbing the area around it. She turned to face Bucky, her hand carefully touching the swollen bump. “Does it look bad?”

Yeah.

“No.” He lied. “It looks alright.”

“Liar.” She could see straight through him, of course. She always could. “Oh man, and Tony’s birthday party is this weekend.”

“That’s five days away.” Bucky tried to remain hopeful.

She looked over at him, her eyes hooded and her eyebrows raised high, circulating the area where he had punched her. “By the sheer agony I’m in right now, I can tell this isn’t going to go away in five days.”

“I’m sorry…” He pleaded and she dropped her sarcastic attitude, feeling bad for the poor guy.

“I know you are. It’s okay. I’ve had worse. Remember when I got shot in the damn hand in Serbia? When I had to drive the car to the hospital with that hand, the gear lever nearly went through the bullet hole.”

He chuckled after seeing her smile at the brutal recall of a mission two years prior.

“Or when you went two weeks in pain because you thought your body was “healing slowly”, when in reality you had a completely broken arm?” He remembered and she nodded, quietly chuckling before suddenly closing her eyes, grabbing his hand. She pulled it towards her jaw and held it still over, leaning into it whilst still not looking.

Bucky watched in admiration as she dozed off for a few seconds in the comfort of his touch.

“Alright. I’m gonna call this a day. It’s getting late, I think. You must have punched my sense of time out of me.” She smiled and broke loose from him, heading for the gym door slowly.

“Maybe sleeping isn’t that good of an idea? You could have a concussion!” He warned, worried about her health truthfully.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself.” She joked, making it seem as if giving her a concussion had been something Bucky had strived for. He wanted to oblige and take her to Bruce, or anyone else that might be awake at two in the morning and have the skill to properly help her. “So goodnight, or good morning, or whatever.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Bucky alone in the gym, feeling more guilty than ever.


He was sat at the kitchen table, eating the scrambled eggs which surprisingly enough, Vision had cooked. Steve sat across Bucky, Peter beside Steve, and Tony and Natasha on both short ends when Y/N came sulking down.

“Good morning- Jesus Christ.” Steve gasped as he got a look of her. “What happened to your face?”

The entire left side of her jaw was covered in a rich, purple bruise. As she smiled, she clearly did so more on the right side than the other. “Why don’t you ask Mr. I-Have-A-Metal-Arm?” She said, pointing to a Bucky.

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky repeated and she tried to smile wider but winced, letting it fall back.

“I know, Buck. Heard you the first, hundred, times.” She attempted to reassure him although it had little effect. “You better buy me something amazing to cover this up tho.”

“I don’t think anything can cover that up. That’s brutal.” Natasha said, her nose scrunching up in slight disgust at the vicious color of Y/N’s jaw.

“Thanks.” Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes, and taking a seat by the table. Vision left the stove and came to her aid with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “And an honest thank you to you, Vis.”

“You want some ice for that?” Tony tried to help as Y/N grabbed the chilled glass of orange juice in front of her and held it against her jaw. She shook her head subtly and shut her tired eyes, propping her elbows on the table and leaning her head against her free hand.

“I’m good.” She said and pulled herself together, opening her eyes widely to wake up and taking a sip of the orange juice already by her mouth. “I’ll avoid training sessions with Bucky for awhile though.”

“I’m s-”

“Cut it. I’m alive, aren’t I? Still breathing. Heart’s still pumping.” She said and shoved a fork full of bacon in her mouth. The breakfast carried on, following up with an overly large glass of chocolate milk on Y/N’s part. They all chatted, bickering as usual, before everyone retreated to their own corner of the Tower  to continue their days separately.

As Y/N made it to her room, there were two knocks on the door. She didn’t have to guess who it was. She knew it was Bucky and she knew he would try to apologize once more.

She pulled the door open and barely had time to confirm it was him before a pair of soft lips crashed upon hers. She staggered backwards and Bucky broke loose, eyes blown wide. “Let me take you out to dinner, as an apology for punching you.”

“And you had to kiss me to ask me out!?” She questioned, out of breath. Bucky shrugged.“

“No, I just wanted to.” He said like it was the most normal thing in the world to walk around kissing.

“Well damn…” She closed the space again and savored another kiss, sighing in relief. She tried to not cause herself too much pain, letting him do most of the moving.

“I’m-”

“Don’t you dare say that word one more time or I swear to god I’ll punch your jaw.” She threatened and he chuckled, lips hovering in front of hers.

“It wouldn’t leave as much as a scratch.” His lips curled around hers, tasting the sweetness lingering to them.

“You’re so cocky, you know that? It’s tiring.”

2

kairi week 2017: [ day five ] → favourite quote

                  ✧ her letting everyone in the room know she came to help, not because she was summoned, but because she wants to do something

Sorry I’m Late, I Was Saving Paris

Read here on AO3!

Fandom:
Miraculous Ladybug

Rating:
General

Theme:
Humor

Summary:
Caline Bustier has heard many ridiculous excuses from Marinette when she is late. But this one took the cake.
What she had not expected, was for it to be true.

Author’s Note:
So, this is just a little one-shot reveal, inspired by a line in another one-shot I am working on. (The never-ending spiral of inspiration doom!)
Clearly, this one spoke to me most, because I got it done in just a couple of days.
Just one of my usual humour one-shots, so I hope you like it!!!


If there was one thing Caline Bustier could count on in her class, it was Marinette. Oh, sure, she was a brilliant, reliable class president, and always turned her homework in on time (sometimes just in the nick of time, but still on time). But no, what she could count on, was that Marinette would be late (not all the time, just… way too often at this point) and that when she arrived, she would make the most ridiculous excuses that she had ever heard.

They were the excuses of someone panicking and struggling for an excuse. And as creative as Marinette was… she was atrocious at coming up with believable lies. Oh, they were still brilliantly creative, just not one bit believable. In fact, some of them were so brilliantly insane that she had started making a list of them in a notebook that sat on her desk. So far she had filled up an entire two pages, and there were some utter gems.

She had even talked with some of the other teachers and they had come across the same thing. Though she wasn’t as lenient with Marinette’s tardiness, Ms Mendeleiev still shared some of her favourite excuses with her.

Still, nothing  would ever beat:

“I’m sorry I’m late!” Marinette called as she dashed in. “I - I was…” She panted slightly as she rushes up to her desk and began unpacking her things. You could practically see her floundering for an excuse. “ I was saving Paris!”

Keep reading

so 12 yr old me was obsessed with the variability of robin hood's mythos (but mostly marian)

Let’s talk about the times Robin survives Marian, when she is the fair memory who haunts him all his days, the wild eyes he learns to live without, the part of his heart he teaches to heal;

And the times Marian survives Robin, when she stands at the firelight’s edge and looks over these brave men, these few and merry men, and says with the even, carrying voice that she did not learn from Robin, this is not the end of us.

There are a hundred ways to fall in love and Marian and Robin have fallen into each of them. A shepherdess and a yeoman, a feisty noble daughter and an estranged noble son—she has fallen for his wit, his bravery, his chin; he for her skill, her beauty, her kindnesses. No matter how many arrows she loses or witticisms she drops at the audience’s feet, Marian will always be a lover.

Marian the shepherdess, with her loyal sheep dog and her loyal Robin, a Marian who understands being hungry, who understands patience and how to find a lost ewe, who knows the hills of Nottingham better than the sheriff or the outlaw and delights in outwitting them both.

Marian the archer, the way she held competition between her teeth til it begged for mercy; or the single daughter of a destitute house, who took up poaching in the king’s wood and knows the meaning of silence but somehow, despite it all, falls for a brash youth with a big mouth and a bigger heart. 

A Marian who fights; or a Marian who sews and listens and whispers and smuggles out who and what Robin needs; a Marian who gets lost in the woods, who gets held up on the road or who gets suspicious in the market when rough men trade silver for bread and cloth; a Marian who is the heart of their cause and the head of their crimes.

They call her a lover so let’s call her a lover.

Let’s tell stories about the first time Marian falls asleep on hard ground beside the wheezy snores of Sherwood’s outlaws and feels safe, feels wanted, feels like she’s come home. They build something out in those woods with deer hides that are theirs only by right of aim and speed and skill, with the gold of fat rich men, and with the thanks of poor farmers whose children will eat decently five days a week instead of two.

Let’s talk about her love. Let’s talk about how she falls in love with this.

The runaway daughters, the girls hidden in boys’ clothing, in boys’ names, in boys’ bodies—Marian takes them aside when she can and whittles them bows to suit each of their strengths.

When a youth with skinned knees and tightly bound breasts weeps with rage when she can’t keep up with Robin’s combat practices, Marian tells her here’s how you fight when your center lives in your belly and not under your breastbone. Trust your legs, child. Trust your center. Yours is a different strength, not a lesser one.

Soon enough the girl is flipping boys over her hip while she stands with slightly bent knees, and Marian is making money hand over fist, betting against her opponents.

Let’s talk about how many ways there are to fall in love. Let’s talk about how the love of one man as a life’s calling is not a story I am interested in telling.

The outlaws were her children, her flock, her brothers and her right-hand men. They held each others’ secrets and each others’ lives in their callused palms and kept them safe.

Let’s talk about getting lost in the woods: Marian the shopkeeper’s daughter getting lost at fifteen, the first time she ran away from home, getting lost in the dark, the creep and tangle of it, and making it back long after moonrise by way of her aunt’s old nursery rhyme about how moss grows on the north side of trees. (At the next full moon she runs away to the woods again. She is not afraid, or, if she is, it doesn’t matter; she is in love).

Lost: Marian, dyemaker’s daughter, walking out to the woods with all the men who came before Robin, not for them but for the woods: the trees snarling overhead, the way they make her feel like life is more than this, that there is mystery, there is depth, and there is distance.

Let’s talk about how she loved Robin, yes, the quiet ways she traced his jawbone with shaking fingers, the hard way they both looked at each other across the fire and knew neither of them could long survive this. Let’s talk about how she loved. Let’s call it being lost.

Robin saw her first in a market, a smithy, a crossroads, and she was beautiful, but it wasn’t until she raised her chin that he loved her (til she smiled, til she shot, til she vanished—there are a hundred ways they fell in love). 

Let’s talk about how she fell in love with herself. 

Because she did: arrows and whispers, cold nights and good liars, Robin’s hand and the men who made Sherwood their own– she fell for it all. She fell for herself most of all. 

Maybe your name is not Marian and my name is not Marian and sometimes hers is not either.

But we are all sometimes lost in the woods. We all sometimes find ourselves there, and open our eyes, open our lungs, fall in love. 

Types Of Friends When A Boy Fucks You Over (PT.3: The Finale)

The Blac Chyna- Funds the money for the make-up line you have been wanting to get started so, you can focus on something positive and productive. The two of you settle on the name ‘FuqBoí’ for the brand. For being a form of inspiration she sends your ex a check. The check is made out for ‘$00.01″

Originally posted by geneva-diva

The Vivica A. Fox- Verbally annihilates him using nothing but SAT words at his new girls pool party. Takes a bottle of Patrón and CÎroc from the bar and makes her exit. Comes to your house and gets you turnt with the bottles and gives you a play by play of everything that happened

Originally posted by theprettynerdie

The Ciara- Tells you to block his number and block him from all social media. Has her hair stylist make you a wig like hers and has you working out with her in the gym five days a week. A few weeks go by and she photographs you in a boudoir shoot and posts them to social media. Ends up getting you noticed and you get booked for a music video

Originally posted by plasticbagbarbie

The Patti LaBelle- Comes over to your place and bakes you a cake and two pies. Prepares enough food for you that could feed the whole family at the reunion. Has your ex come to your place so you can have closure, plus she has a few words for him. He gives you an apology and explains his actions. When he’s done, she catches him eyeing the food and says to him “I know your behind not thinking about fixing a plate. Ya bettah think about fixing that attitude of yours before you get bust upside the head”

Originally posted by ssa-spencerreid

The Solange- Some random person sees her beating up your ex and starts to record it. It is posted to vine and goes viral

Originally posted by lilybrawne

The Keke Palmer- She never liked your ex in the first place. Lowkey wants to flatten his tires and break his arms but, focuses on you instead. Enrolls the two of you in hip-hop dance lessons

Originally posted by screamqueensfox

The Diana Ross- Tells you that you are far too fabulous to concern yourself with an uncultured buffoon like him. Books the two of you a trip to New York City. Has you shopping for eye catching ensembles from thrift/costume shops. Takes you to hit up the underground club scene and everyone there loves your outfits and wants to take pictures with you.Ya’ll end up trending online

Originally posted by musicthatspeaks

The Gabrielle Union- Infiltrates your ex’s family and ends up dating his brother. Sabotages any potential relationships your ex could have. His brother goes along with it because she got him sprung

Originally posted by indigovioletpurple

The Missy Elliott- Is a popular youtuber. Makes a dope music video about how weak your ex’s dick game was based off of what you’ve told her. Innuendos are all over the place. Choreography is fire. The song gains mainstream popularity and his mama now has it as her ringtone whenever your ex calls her

Originally posted by cleothotra

The Trina- Spams all his instagram pics with the comment “fuckboy”

Originally posted by geneva-diva

The Amber Rose- Instafamous. Tells all her instagram followers not to fuck him cause he’s a bitchass. Your ex goes through a sexual drought

Originally posted by celebuzz

The Lynn Whitfield- Runs his car off the road at 9 and casually drives to her brunch meeting at 10

Originally posted by isitscary

The Octavia Spencer- Knocks on his front door. He let’s her in, they walk into the kitchen. She tells him there are no hard feelings and gives him her “special” pie

Originally posted by shawnhollenbach

The Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes- Will burn his house down

Originally posted by queensofrap

The Aaliyah- She runs into your ex at the Foot Locker. Tells him how she is so incredibly disappointed in his actions and that he needs to take a look at what kind of path he is taking in life because, he can’t go around hurting people that love him unconditionally. He feels so bad he starts going to church every Sunday to build a relationship with Jesus

Originally posted by amajuj

The Lupita Nyong’o- Takes you on a trip to Spain so you can clear your mind. She’s not even worried about your ex

Originally posted by fxck-365

The Joseline Hernandez- Uses permanent spray paint to write “PENE PEQUEÑO” on the windshield of his car

Originally posted by ohidiotbox

The Brandy- Sends you a text telling you to stop “sittin up in your room”. Picks you up and ya’ll have a beach day. She catches the owner of the bar two of you are at on the water eyeing you and encourages him to talk to you. Takes a picture of the two of you talking and sends it to your ex from your phone

Originally posted by buzzfeedceleb

The Zendaya- Your ex contacts her first because he knows she will send him a 3000 word essay in MLA Format with an introduction, body paragraphs and a conclusion, with direct quotes and a bibliography page to go with it. She doesn’t care what he has to say and goes with her usual formula anyway

Originally posted by thecoolcoolcat

The Tamar Braxton- Bumps into him in the produce section at the grocery store. Makes the loudest cackle because she has been ready to run into your ex. Goes the hell off and he tries to tell her to calm down cause people are staring. Responds with “Whatchu mean calm down? What you worried about them for? You don’t know them! What you needed to be worried about was your relationship!” Wraps up the whole encounter with “You lucky I am a child of God”

Originally posted by wildjay101

The Pam Grier- Shoots your ex then, takes you dancing later

Originally posted by timetravlin13

The Jackée Harry- Roasts your ex. I’m talking FATALITY  level roasting. He ends up deleting all his social media accounts and moves out of state. Even at his funeral she’s still dogging him and even the pastor slips out a chuckle

Originally posted by auntjohn

4

To celebrate Shiro’s birthday this year, I wanted to bake and decorate a cake :3

(I wanted to put a # candle on it but I had none rip)

the most heartbreaking thing about this is that you’d almost think that this is one particularly bad night, one particularly bad week for sana. but the truth is that we’ve only been in her shoes for five days now. FIVE DAYS.how long has this been going on? how many TIMES did that happen to her? how many times did she have to feel like this? 

Betty Shelby will return to work five days after her acquittal in Terence Crutcher’s death

  • In America, you can be acquitted of manslaughter for fatally shooting an unarmed black man one week, and the next week you can return to duty.
  • That seems to be the story of Betty Jo Shelby, the Tulsa, Oklahoma, police officer found not guilty Wednesday of first-degree manslaughter in the September shooting death of Terence Crutcher. Shelby plans to return to work on Monday, the Associated Press reported. Read more. (5/20/17, 10:31 AM)
2

“So, let’s talk about [Y/N].”

“Oh no.” Tom chuckled, shifting in his seat. He knew the topic of [Y/N] was going to inevitable. He had tried hard to curve the questions in a different direction but he knew the radio host was a bit persistent than most interviewers he had been around. So, he was going to put on his big boy pants and tackle these questions regarding his ex-girlfriend. 

“I know, I know. These aren’t the kind of questions you wanna hear but you know, we gotta know Tom. We got to know.” The host laughed in his normal obnoxious way. Clearing his throat, he started. “So what’s the story, what happened man?” 

Tom scratched the back of his ear as he stretched, “Well, uh, we, there’s not much to this story, by the way.” Shifting again in his seat, he shrugged. “I mean we just decided to stay friends.”

“Aw, come on Tom. Give us more than that!” The host laughed, “Okay, how about this. Who broke up with who?” 

“Me.” Tom winced, rubbing his hands over his face, “[Y/N] is a wonderful, wonderful girl. I absolutely loved spending time with her but I physically couldn’t give her the time she deserved, you know? She could only travel with me on rare occasions because she’s a busy girl too. It just wasn’t fair and I didn’t want to hold her up when she could find someone else.” 

“I think you messed up, Tom.” The host replied, shaking his head. “You gotta fight through those things, man. She’s a keeper, dude. She’s such a sweet girl. I mean a little feisty but believe me, I’m a man of experience, you can’t let a girl like that get away.”

Tom laughed, “I’ve been told I’ve messed up by a lot of people. My best buddy, Harrison, laid into me, actually.” 

The host frowned and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well you did. Because now she’s rumored to be with [another celeb crush]. How does that make you feel?” 

Shrugging, “I mean if she’s happy that’s all that matters. It shouldn’t matter how I feel, I’m the one who let her go. It’s my own fault if I feel negative.” 

“Well, man, I think you can take him. One on one, whoever wins gets the girl.” 

Again, Tom laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I don’t think so.” 

“I hope everything words out for you man. You two were a cute couple, it’s a shame that it didn’t work out but you know, that’s life. It throws curveballs at you, you just got to know when to catch and when to dodge ‘em.” 

Tom nodded, “Thanks. I mean who knows what’ll happen the next time our paths cross.” 

“So you’re saying that if she wanted to get back together, you’d be all in?” 

“What? Yeah, I mean possibly.” Shrugging, “Like I said, [Y/N] is a great girl. I just didn’t want to be that guy who got so wrapped up in his work and lost track of time. I think if you’re in a relationship, it should feel like it. You know, always trying to finish up so you can be with her or trying to find just five seconds to call to see how her day is going. I could’t do that when we were together, it was just go, go, go. I had no time and again, it’s not fair for her. I want her to be happy. That’s the goal, isn’t it?” 

“You seem like a smart kid on the matter. I’ll back off, now.”The host laughed and continued on about a different topic, leaving Tom thinking about how much he actually missed [Y/N]. He had a point though, didn’t he? Of course he did. Tom respected [Y/N] too much to leave her wondering if he was ever going to call because in all and all, he wanted to but never had the time. 

Maybe after the interview he’d text her to see how she’s doing and if she’s happy with how things went down because if she wasn’t. Maybe, just maybe, he could fix them.