i forget how to spell her name

i hate when fics try to make Hermione perfect and make it seem like she would obviously know everything, because it’s not fucking accurate. i just- i think that like most smart people, she has a lot of book sense, but not a lot of common sense.

gimme Hermione who:

- can name all the ingredients in polyjuice potion or pepper up, but always forgets where she puts her quills (in her hair).

- knows the most basic ways of performing spells and charms, but can’t for the life of her figure out how the talking portraits work.

- always forgets to cut her lamp off before she goes to sleep so her dormmates always have to nox it in the middle of the night.

- knows all her roommates names, but always gets them mixed up cause she’s never paying attention when she starts talking to them, cause she’s reading and talks without looking up from the page.

like i get it, she’s a Gryffindor and that’s supposed to be the perfect, great, good guy house, but she also could have been sorted into ravenclaw and people seem to ignore that part of her character.

ravenclaw is wisdom and creativity and knowledge for the sake of knowledge and this girl is not perfect, she is a goofball of random facts no one cares about and she trips over her own damn sentences sometimes because she isn’t good with social cues because she’s more comfortable with a book than with people. i also get that she will have grown out of some of this, but as someone who has been reading their entire life even when i take breaks from books i am more comfortable in a library alone than in a cafeteria or a club full of people.

literally fight me if you think i’m wrong

Haircuts and Wedding Plans [Part 1]

Part 2 Part 3

Characters: hair stylist!Jensen Ackles, single mom!reader, Indiana [reader’s daughter], Genevieve Padalecki, Felicia Day, Ashlyn [OFC]
Pairing: Jensen x reader
Word count: 2.3K
Warnings: cussing??
Summary: You’re busy getting your sister’s wedding organized, spending time with your kid, Indiana, and trying to figure out getting a date for the wedding, when you take Indie to get a haircut and meet Jensen.
A/N: This is for @teamfreewill-imagine ​‘s birthday AU challenge. [The prompt was hairdresser!Jensen.] Happy late birthday, Jamie! Honestly, you, your blog, and your writing are all amazing, so thank you for being you. And thanks for letting me be a part of your challenge. Hope you like this! <33
Beta: @wintersfavoritechild She really helped me out this time, even though I kinda distracted her from writing an essay due in the morning…..

Originally posted by milanavsh

My phone buzzed and I looked down at it to see a text from Felicia.

I thought I’d mention that I’m not at work today. Feeling sick. Sorry. :(

Wait… Work? Why was she telling me about- Fuck. Hairdresser. I was supposed to be there in thirty minutes. With Indiana.

Please tell me you even remembered…

I groaned and texted back a nope.

“What’s up?” Genevieve asked as she finished tying a balloon.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I was just supposed to take Indie to cut her hair. She’s been begging me to go get a haircut, and we all know how bad I am at even trimming hair. But since the date for Ashlyn’s bridal shower got changed to today instead of last weekend, I totally forgot about it. But I guess I’ll just cancel… Ugh, she’s gonna be so disappointed. She’s been having a rough time being back in school, and she’s really been looking forward to this.”

“No. It’s fine. Go. We’re pretty much done with decorating, and you should be back by six, right?” Gen smiled and shrugged. “Get your kiddo a haircut.”

I looked at her hesitantly. “But-”

“Seriously. Go.”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled, thankful. “Fine.”

Okay, but you’re still coming, right? Cuz I got somebody who took some of my appointments and you and Indiana are one of them.

Keep reading

Regina drums her fingers against her desk as she dials Emma’s number. The Sheriif was supposed to meet her for lunch half an hour ago but so far no Emma. 

It annoys her that it bothers her as much as it does. Emma used to be a thorn in her side, now however, all she wants is for Emma to turn up so they can share lunch. Sadly a platonic one since she knows Emma doesn’t feel the same,

She sighs as she bemoans her heart for wanting what she cannot have before a buzzing noise interrupts her thoughts. Regina scans her desk before shaking her head as she spots Emma’s cell phone. She must have left it here when she brought me that coffee earlier.

Regina picks up the phone and grabs her coat fully intending to return the item to Emma. As she grabs the phone her finger triggers the display and she frowns in confusion as she sees the screen - Missed Call, Mayor Milf.

Milf?” She wonders aloud before heading to the diner.

“Hey Regina,” Emma greets cheerfully when she spots the brunette holding lunch. 

Regina smiles passing her the to go bag before reaching into her pocket, “Oh and this.” 

Emma pats her pockets before sighing, “Thanks, can’t believe I forgot that.” 

“Not as bad as forgetting how to spell my last name.”


“On your phone, it came up as Mayor Milf…how did you put Mills in wrong?”

Emma’s cheeks burn bright red as she admits, “I didn’t…I meant to put Milf.”

Regina scrunches her brow in confusion, “Why?”

Emma weighs up the odds in her mind before sucking in a deep breath, “You need to Google it.” She pauses as she she runs to her computer typing it into the search bar before beckoning Regina over. The brunette does leaning over Emma, giving the blonde a tantalising view of a straining shirt button.

“Oh,” Regina breathes out before grinning. She turns her head to the side, their lips only millimetres apart, “So…” she trails off before just going with it and pressing their lips together. It’s dizzying and incredible and god how Regina wishes Emma had misplaced her phone sooner. 

They break apart, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, “Wow,” Emma manages earning a far too sexy smirk from Regina, who raises her fingers to her still tingling lips before replying, “Wow indeed…come over for dinner tonight?” 

Emma grins, “Can’t wait.”

The Janitor and the Music Teacher

So like idk if this is good or if it just isn’t but I’m gonna post it so you guys can say if you like it or not I guess haha

Beca Mitchell put the mop back into the bucket with a sigh. She’d finished this corridor, finally, although she had taken a little longer than usual. Miss Beale was teaching a music class in the classroom closest to where she was standing, and the melody was simply uplifting, filling every crevice of the corridor as well as the classroom.

Beca loved music.

She loved the tunes, the backing, the melodies and the lyrics. Everything. She loved instruments, too. The sleek look of the violin, a shining silver flute. Her favourite, however, was the piano. The melodies the piano could play was what kept Beca going, most nights. Beca admired anyone who could press down on the ivory keys, with just the right tempo to keep up with, and make music.

Like Miss Beale.

Beca thought Miss Beale of some form of royalty amongst the other teachers. She admired how many instruments the woman could play, her bright blue eyes, even her red hair was perfect. She was perfect. The perfect teacher. She was nice to every student, whether they liked her or they hated her, and she could play almost anything she was given. She had a talent that Beca only in her wildest dreams could she wish to possess. The talent of music. Sometimes, like today, Beca stood outside her classroom and just watched. She watched and she listened and she admired. Sometimes Miss Beale caught her, too. And, of course, Miss Beale smiled sweetly, and Beca would redden and look down at her cleaning. So far she has learnt that anything that sounded happy in music was in major key and anything that sounded sad was in minor key. She has been especially proud of herself when she listened to a piece of music and could tell it was in major key, even before the students had put their hands up.

But, as per usual, Beca was fast to leave when the bell went, always afraid that Miss Beale would shout at her for watching the lesson without permission.

A few days later, and after Beca had accidentally been caught moving about slightly to the music, Miss Beale actually walked over to the door.

“Shit!” Beca exclaimed, rushing to pick up a rag to make it seem that she was actually doing her job.

Miss Beale watched her amusedly, a smirk on her face, as the shorter brunette almost knocked over her bucket of water in her haste to clean ANYTHING.

“You’re Beca, right? Beca the janitor.” Miss Beale asked her, and Beca stiffened, too scared to look up.

“Y-Yes Ma'am.”

Beca glanced upwards at the redhead, who’s grin was so wide that it made Beca slightly at ease.

“Do you wanna come in?”

Oh. Well, that made sense. Miss Beale just wanted her to clean the classroom. “Sorry, Ma'am, I’m only allowed to clean classrooms when no students are in there,”

“Not for that reason! I’m not leaving here until you come in, so…”

Beca looked down again, knowing she had been intruding and watching for far too long now. “Uh, no, Ma'am, my job…”

Miss Beale laughed, and god, her laugh was one of the nicest melodies the brunette had ever heard. “I know you don’t need to clean anything until after lunch, Beca. You’re done for the morning, right?”

Beca was not about to lie to a teacher like Miss Beale. “Yes, Ma'am.”

“So come in, you can watch at the back if you feel more comfortable.”

Beca bit her lip. “Th-Thank you, Ma'am. That’s really kind of you.”

“Of course,” Miss Beale chirped, opening the door wider and letting Beca quietly slip in.

The brunette sat down on the floor in the very back corner of the room, barely believing what was happening. She was being allowed to actually sit through a music lesson, and Miss Beale had actually spoken to her. It was almost like being in school again. But this time, everyone wasn’t laughing at her when she got the answer wrong. Beca smiled happily as she watched Miss Beale play a piece of music on the piano whilst a student accompanied her with their violin.

When the lesson was over, Beca stayed in her corner, half hoping Miss Beale would forget about her and she could slip out.

“Beca?” Miss Beale called, and Beca shot up with wide eyes.

“Y-Yes, Ma'am?”

Miss Beale chuckled. “It’s cute that you call me ma'am, but Chloe is fine.”

“Chloe.” Beca tried out, the name rolling off of her tongue with ease. “I like your name.” She smiled. Beca looked down shyly. “H-how do you spell it?”

Miss Beale gave her a slightly confused, slightly scrutinising look, but replied happily and confidently. “C-H-L-O-E.”

Beca recognised the sound of four of five letters.

“You can come closer, I don’t bite,” Chloe chuckled. “Did you enjoy the lesson?”

Beca’s eyes seemed to light up at the question, and she treaded carefully in her used converse.

“Yes, Ma-Chloe. It was…really good.” Beca replied lamely, not knowing what else to say without sounding like a total freak.

Chloe smiled brightly. “Good! Do you like music?”

“Yes. I love it.”

Chloe tilted her head and smiled even brighter. “Can you play?”

Beca looked down and her shoulders deflated slightly. “No. I don’t know how.”

“Oh…” Chloe’s smile slipped from her face and she looked sad for a second, before smiling again. “I can teach you!”

“Really?” Beca asked quietly, barely believing why she was hearing. She could feel the joy rising in her and the lump in her throats beginning to form.

“Of course!” Chloe grinned. “How about today after school?”

Chloe could see that Beca looked like she was about to cry and she stepped closer, suddenly producing a tissue and putting her hand on Beca’s back. Beca sniffled loudly and let a watery smile grace her features.

“Th-Thank you, Chloe. That means a lot to me,” the brunette bit her lip and caught Chloe’s eyes to try and show her gratitude. She sniffled again but refused the tissues Chloe was offering her.

“Tonight at 4:30?”

“She probably won’t even turn up.” Beca muttered her thought out loud, but Chloe heard it.

The redhead looked concerned, then affronted, then sad. “What makes you think that?”

“Im sorry, ma'am, it’s just…nobody else really talks to me, unless they have to.” Beca’s eyes were at her feet, looking reprimanded.

“Why’s that? And I told you to call me Chloe.”

Beca only shrugged. “I’m sorry, Chloe.”

“That’s okay,” Chloe replied easily. “So, today at 4:30.”

“Sounds good.”

“And what instrument do you wanna learn?”

All of them, Beca thought. “I like the sound of the piano.”

“Piano it is!”

Chloe found the janitor slightly odd, but intriguing. It was almost like talking to a little kid, or one of her students. Beca seemed to think she was constantly crossing the line, almost like talking to people as a whole was new to her. But Chloe was determined to show the brunette that she wasn’t going to bail on her, Beca already seemed incredibly vulnerable as it is. She looked up at the clock and saw it was 4:35, and she sighed, thinking Beca really wasn’t going to show up. She looked out to the door again and found Beca just waiting. Chloe frowned and got up, opening the door.

“You could’ve just knocked, you know,”

Beca jumped. “Sorry,” she said quickly.

“It’s fine, just next time come right in,” Chloe smiled.

They both sat down at the piano, and Chloe took in the way Beca’s eyes seemed to gloss over as she saw the keys, and her wrist twitched.

“You can touch it, Beca. Go ahead,”

Hesitantly, the small brunette pressed down on a key and grinned as it made a noise. She pressed down again on another, and another, before doing two at once. Chloe watched her, finding it amusing how Beca seemed just like a little kid trying a piano out for the first time. Soon, Beca was playing an awful combination of notes and smiling happily.

“You like the piano, huh?”

Beca looked at Chloe and nodded. “Yes. It’s my favourite instrument. I’ve never been allowed to play one before.”

Suddenly, Beca blushed and looked down at her lamp, as if she had given away too much information. Chloe gave her another scrutinising look. She wanted to find out why Beca had never been allowed to before. She wanted to find out why she seemed so timid all the time.

“Well, now’s your chance. Do you wanna start by learning the notes?”

Beca nodded. “Yes, please.”

Chloe produced a sheet of music that had a row of notes perfectly drawn on them.

“There are acronyms that we use to remember the notes. The most common ones are Every Good Boy Deserves Football, E, G, B, D, F, which are the lines in a stave. This is the stave,” Chloe pointed to the five lines on the row. “And FACE. F, A, C, E. those are the spaces in between the lines. Are you with me so far?”

Not really.

Beca nodded.

“Great! So I’m gonna tell you what each note is and I want you to write it underneath, okay?” She was given a pen. Beca’s heart sped up. This was it. Chloe was gonna find her weird now and kick her out.

“Okay, so, A,”

Beca startled. She knew a. A was in her name.  Beca wrote


In childlike writing.

Chloe furrowed her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. 


Beca refrained the urge to smile. That was in her name as well.




This was easy, Beca thought. She knew all the letters already.


Beca stiffened, panicking. She put the pen to the paper, but couldn’t write anything down. She didn’t know how to write it or even what it looked like. She looked down and her eyebrows furrowed deeply in worry.

“Beca? The letter d,”

Chloe watched in concern as Beca’s eyes darted around. The redhead sighed internally. She thinks she knows what was going on.

Deciding to test her theory, Chloe got up and wrote the word lace on the whiteboard.

“What does this say?” She asked kindly.

Beca’s eyes widened. All of those letters were in her name, so she sounded them out how they were said in her name.

“Lllllaakeh.” She said hesitantly, and by the look on Chloe’s face, it wasn’t right.

“Lace, Beca. It says lace.”

Beca bowed her head in embarrassment, trying not to cry. Chloe sat down next to her, moving to place a hand on Beca’s back, but the brunette flinched violently, so Chloe was fast to place her hand back on her lap again.

“Beca…” Chloe said softly. “Do you know how to read?”

Beca went incredibly red, and her eyes gathered with tears. She was jittery for a short moment, before jumping up and making to leave the room.

“Beca? Please-”

“I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry, I…” she ran out before Chloe could do anything.

“Wait.” Chloe sighed, wincing as the door slammed shut.

She hadn’t meant to insult Beca. Or make her upset. Chloe wasn’t even sure what had happened. One minute they had been comfortably talking and Chloe had been showing her the keys, but the next Chloe asked something personal, TOO personal, and Beca fled. Maybe Beca really didn’t know how to read, and was extremely self-conscious of it. Chloe would have to find out tomorrow.

missed the last bus (take the next train)

wolf 359 | 4k; complete | ao3 | anne & eiffel

notes: so, i was talking to a friend about how i think eiffel’s going to be immortal because of decima/alien shenanigans, and then he and hera and lovelace were going to be immortal space bros.  and I set out to write a fic about that, but it turned into…this.  i have more fic i want to write in this verse, but for now i tried to keep the timeline vague and hope what i have now makes sense on its own.

also, it’s never directly stated, but in my head eiffera is an established relationship at this point.

It started with a text.  Two texts, actually.

The first was an automatic notification from Anne’s bank, telling her that fifty thousand dollars had been deposited into her savings account.

She didn’t even have a savings account.

While Anne was still staring at that, the second came in, banner alert dropping from the screen.  The number was unknown, a long string that followed no pattern Anne could see, but she tapped it anyway.

Hi, Anne.  You don’t know me, but I’m one of Officer Eiffel’s friends.  He wanted to send the money anonymously.  I think that’s a stupid idea, and since I’m the one actually doing the money-sending, I get to say so. 

Keep reading

PittCon Sunday

(sorry this is so late. my mind has been reeling since I stepped into Jensen’s hug. cut comes after the gold panel)

My heart was racing as I typed this because it contains the letters to Jared story and the interaction between he and I as I gave him the binder and reliving that moment is everything I ever wanted. My liiiffeeee <3333 

Part One (Gold Panel): 

  • They come walking down the glass bridge. Jensen waves. Jared pushes him aside and becomes the star of the show. Jared takes off his beanie and everybody screams (still don’t understand how he does it).
  • Someone in the second row continues to talk to Jared from her seat instead of waiting to be selected for a question. (*heavy eye rolling from me*)
  • Jared and Jensen are sleepy little dorks and I love it. They’re still running on Vancouver time. Jensen didn’t sleep Saturday night, he watched the hours roll by. Jared says we should’ve called Jensen and invited him out with us. Jensen’s got “about two hours of solid” him left before it gets either “really interesting or really boring.”
  • Jared realizes the actress who plays Hitler granddaughter is from Pittsburgh. They’re “chuggin’ along” with filming - already on episode six. 
  • Jared says they’re still waiting for the call for season 14 renewal.
  • Fan is upset because Jensen promised to sing at SNS this year. He laughs and asks, “You believed that?!” He blames timezone switches and Rob, because Rob “likes Pittsburgh to himself.”
  • They’ve been on a juice diet because “summer was hard” on them (specifically Jared - who still looks incredible, by the way). As Jensen was walking on stage, he found a cup of goldfish crackers and stuffed a handful in his mouth. He comes on stage still chewing. They’re already talking about getting burgers for dinner Sunday night.
  • Jared envies people who can draw because he loves to do it but is “really bad at it.” Jensen makes a “mean stick figure.” They joke about they wish they could take their profession anywhere the way musicians and sketch artists/painters can. Jensen laughs and says he envisions Jared standing in front of a t-rex exhibit “To be! Or not to be!”
  • Jared takes on “Misha form!” while answering a question about their childhood memory. Jared tells the story of Tom starting kindergarten. He was flooded with emotions while the other parents were already used to taking their kids and just dropping them off. Meanwhile Jared is crying. Jensen says he has a lot of good childhood memories, but one of his favorite is his sixth birthday. He woke up and put on his cowboy outfit, complete with six-shooters and a sheriff’s badge. He walked outside and there was a horse in the yard for him to ride. Their yard wasn’t big, but he rode the horse in circles and shot his cap guns.
  • Jensen was never “into” sports medicine, but it was what he chose as he selected college major originally. Jensen says he thinks it would be fun to be a boat captain. Jared planned on going to school for engineering to follow in the footsteps of his brother. Instead, his brother ended up becoming a surgeon, and Jared thinks he would’ve followed that path as well. Jared’s other career options are doctor or teacher. “It’d be fun to be a wildlife photographer,” according to Jared. Jensen decides he wants to be a food and drink writer. Jared mocks avocado toast, Jensen says he’ll wolf one down if it allows him to travel to Italy.
  • Jared has so much trouble with his microphone.
  • They’ve never dreamed as Sam and Dean, but they dream about them and the set. Jared has had dreams about Kim Manners since his passing, where they talk, “which is… interesting.”
  • Danneel has to tell Jensen to stop using the Dean voice. Other times she’s like, “Can you please use the Dean voice…?”
  • Fan says alternate universe in s12 was out of left field but it was awesome. Asks if the boys have been surprised by anything the writers have thrown into the plot. Jensen says French Mistake. Jared says his big left field moment was when he traveled to Los Angeles before season 6 and met with Sera. She told him about soulless!Sam and he had to hide his gut reaction because he was right in front of her instead of being on the phone like he normally would be. Soulless!Sam is one of Jared’s favorite character twists. 
  • Jensen would never rule theatre out of his life as a future option. He doesn’t currently have plans to return to the stage, but he wouldn’t mind going back. Jared says he hasn’t done theatre in a long time, and he loved it. It’s the “best training ground possible,” but it’s hard to keep it fresh. Jared compares theatre to doing squats for thirty minutes. Jensen laughs and mocks him. joking about never skipping leg day.
  • A fan is getting fired for being at the convention. Asks about binge watching because she has a lot of free time now. Jensen says he watched Ozark in a week. Jared says Breaking Bad, but he’s on to Ozark because of Jensen’s recommendation. 
  • Fan gives suggestions for food places. A place called Burgatory. Jensen asks if there are any exits. 
  • “Did someone say Sanchez?” - Jared… why
  • Unicorns or dragons? Jared: unicorns ‘cause they’re not going to kill me, and they fart rainbows. Jensen: I’m gonna go dragons. Speaking of dragons… anybody watch game of thrones? Jared jokes about Jensen ruining the show for him by mentioning dragons. Jensen asks if everyone is caught up. Fan says no. Jensen: “earmufffssss!” He thinks they totally ripped off the demon!Dean transformation scene.

Keep reading

[Mark] Our Fight (Teacher's Pet Tom 2)

A/N: Hi guys! Here’s the sequel to Teacher’s Pet. Hope you enjoy it :)

All Chapters 

“So what will be you next book about?” The interviewer asks me, pen and notebook in her hands. We are sitting face to face in my consultation room. The woman is sitting on my patients’ sofa while I sit in mine. I hate interviews. Because most of the tome people who interview me don’t even care about what I’m saying. They’re all sent by someone who may be interested.

“Children.” I reply. “You know, as a psychologist, I don’t think you can write a book if you don’t have at least thirty to forty years of experience, or if you’re not freud.” I elaborate. “Or if you have the scientific education and are able to interact with the subject of your studies every day.”

“As you know, my book about depression was about my husband. And being with him every day while he was sick enabled me to understand more about it and because of my education I was able to analyze everything I saw- which drove his nuts.” I explain, and I draw a little smile from my interlocutor.
“So my next book will be about my six year-old Zoe, who is a genius kid.” I announce, already exited to start working on it. “And without giving too much away, I think this will be a lot more challenging.”

The woman opens her mouth to say something but she’s cut off by my phone making a racket, vibrating against the wooden coffe table between is. I lean in and look at the ID. It’s Zoe’s school calling me. It never happens unless something’s wrong, which instantly worries me.

“Sorry, I need to take this call.” I say, grabbing my phone. I stand up and walk to the back of the room, giving her my back, and take the call.


“Mrs Tuan?” The director says. “It’s Mrs McAtee, the director. I’m calling you to tell you that Zoe had a bit of an accident.”
I frown, worry creeping up my poor mother heart.

“Is she okay?” I ask her.

“Yes, she is. She fell and cut herself pretty badly, on her forehead, so she’s in an ambulance with her teacher on her way to get stitches.” She replies. I’m a little bit relieved, because stitches aren’t a big thing, but the fall must have hurt really bad for her to cut herself, and he wound as well. I can’t stand the idea of my baby being in pain.

“Which hospital?” I ask.


“Alright, thank you for telling me. I’ll meet them at the hospital. ”

“Okay. Goodbye Mrs Tuan.”

“Goodbye.” I reply before hanging up. I turn towards my guest, who has guessed that the interview was over, her notebook closed on her lap. I clasp my hands together and make a grimace.

“I’m really sorry, I have to go. It’s my daughter.” I tell her, and she gives me a comforting smile.

“Sure.” She prompts, shifting to put her notebook back in her bag. I don’t wait for her and grab my jacket and my bag.

“Andrea has my agenda. You can see with her what time would be best to finish the interview.” I says quickly, pacing out of the room without even waiting for her to get up. “Goodbye!” I call before closing the door and trot my way down the hallway towards the elevator.

“Andrea, please cancel my appointments for the rest of the day and reschedule the interview with the journalist for me.” I ask our receptionist on my way out. She looks up from her desk like a meerkat, her big brown eyes half open and her brows furrowed.

“Something wrong?” She asks while I’maI’m almost the door.

“Zoe is getting stitches! See you tomorrow!” I wave over my shoulder before stepping out onto the pavement. I walk around the building and get inside my car before pulling myself into the traffic. At the first red light, I dial Mark with my vocal commands. He picks up at the first ring.

“Hey.” He says.

“Did the school call you?” I ask him.

“Yes, I’m on my way to the hospital.”

“Good. I’ll meet you there.” I reply. “I need to call her teacher now.”

“Okay I’ll see you in a bit. Love you.”

“I love you too.” I say before hanging up, and dial her teacher instead. I shouldn’t have her number in my phone, but I’m a paranoid mom and I need to be able to contact her any time I judge fit. Like now.

“Hello?” The woman says as she picks up.

“Miss Jansen?”

“Yes, Mrs Tuan. I am in the ambulance with Zoe.”

“Is she okay? Can I talk to her?”

“Sure.” She says.

“Hi, mom.” My baby says calmly at the end of the line.

“Hey, sweetie are you okay?”

“My head hurts. But I should be fine.” She replies, and she sounds so calm, as usual.

“Really? Its nothing too serious, then?” I ask her.

“No, it’s superficial.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Daddy and I will meet you at the hospital, alright?”


“I’ll see you later, baby. Love you.”

“Love you too, mom.” She says before handing the phone back to her teacher.

“We’re at the hospital.” Miss Jansen informs me.

“Okay. Don’t forget to tell everyone not to touch her too much.”

“I will.”

“Okay, thank you.” I say before hanging up and step on the gas. I’m at the hospital half an hour later. I walk through the automatic doors into the huge lobby where the receptionist is talking to a couple. I wait quite impatiently behind them until they leave and the lady gives me her intention.

“Hello.” I say to her.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She asks me with a smile.

“My name is Abigail Tuan. My daughter Zoe Tuan has been brought here.” I tell her.

“Can you spell your last name?”


“Yes, she’s right here.” She says, pointing towards the first door behind her.

“Thank you.” I say before walking off towards the room in question. As I get closer, I start to here muffled screams coming from inside. My heart tightens and sinks and my blood turns cold as a shiver runs down my spine. I quicken my pace and push the door open in a quick and strong movement. The scene that is unfolding before me paralyzes me in shock.

My daughter is laying on the hospital bed screaming on top of her lungs in sheer panic, her face bright red with angry tears running down her cheeks. She has four doctors around her, and they all have their hands on her.

“Zoe, honey, it’s okay.” A female doctor is saying, caressing her hair, thinking she’s soothing her. Another doctor is holding her legs still while she’s struggling, tossing and turning, and another doctor is holding her arms while the last one is placing electrodes on her chest. She’s trying to fight them off the better she can.

“What are you doing?!” I shout, and all their heads turn to me, expect for Zoe who is in such distress she is not paying any attention to me. She keeps yelling and shifting around.

“Mrs Tuan-“

“Get away from her!” I order, letting my bag fall to the floor and getting ready to pull their hands off myself. “She’s having a panic attack!”

“Get your hands off of my daughter before I sue you all!” I nearly jump when I hear Mark’s voice. I stop in my tracks and turn around, finding him standing in the doorway, his wrathful glare focused on the doctors. When I turn back around, their hands are off and Zoe has stopped yelling but she’s still in tears, hiccuping and sobbing.

“She hates being touched, didn’t her teacher tell you?!” I say, rushing to her side.

“Zoe, it’s okay.” I murmur, running my hand through her hair, pulling back the strands that were sticking on her wet cheeks. I know that she tolerates my touch so I keep my hand in her hair, caressing it gently. “Mommy’s here.”

“Get out.” I hear Mark say to the confused doctors. And they all walk out in a hurry and in silence. Zoe speaks then. She says things I don’t get. It looks like she’s repeating something over and over again. I happens when she’s anxious. But this time I have no idea what she’s saying because she’s panting and hiccuping and crying at the same time.

Mark walks over to her bedside as well, his face hard and tensed. He watches her closely, tracing the underside of the stitches on her forehead with his thumb.

“What is she saying?” I ask him. I listens to her for a moment.

“She’s reciting something.” He says and marks a pause, taking off the electrodes on her chest and pulling her T-shirt down.

“All known stars, maybe.” He murmurs. “All known binary systems.” He pauses again. “From the closest to the furthest.” He concludes. When she’s like that there is nothing to do but wait until she calms down on her own. At those time is completely locked inside her own head.

If she ever were to be in a house on fire while in this state, she wouldn’t budge. There is absolutely nothing we can do. She’s locked herself to be in her own head, explore her brain to forget what’s happening in the real world.

So, we wait.

This had never happened before. We quickly realized she didn’t like to be touched, and we’ve been careful until now. We’d tell anyone she’d meet not to touch her. Even doctors. She sounded fine in the ambulance, so I’m sure the medics hadn’t touched her.

Did Miss Jansens not tell the doctors, then? Where is she, by the way? How could she leave her alone with them?

Four people. Eight hands touching her. It had never happened before. A classmate holding her hand for five minutes was the most serious incident I can remember. And even then all she did was cry silently the whole tome until her teacher saw what was going on. So I can barely imagine how much of a nightmare it must have been for her to have eight hands on her body. That’s her worst nightmare multiplied by thirty.

“Mommy?” I hear Zoe call, her voice quiet, hoarse, broken. I look down and see here looking up at me, tears in her big brown slanted eyes. She looks as if she hadn’t seen us all this time.

“Yes, I’m here.” I murmur. Her face contorts again and she starts crying.

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!!” She cries, shifting and reaching out. She wraps her arms around my neck and buries her face in my chest.

“Mooooooomyyyyyy!!” She yells, and she sounds angry. She’s absolutely furious. Mad a the doctors and everyone else on this earth. I feel the exact same way watching her cry like that. It breaks my heart. No one has the right to make my daughter feel like that.

“Shhhh.” I breathe, cradling her head against me, holding her tight and close to me. “I know, darling.”

“I wanna go home!” He cries, almost strangling me. She keeps saying ‘mommy’ over and over again. And I feel guilty for not getting there sooner. For not protecting her like I should have.

“I know, sweetheart.” I pull away and take her face in my hands. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face still pink and tearstained. She looks up at Mark and reaches out to him as well.

“Daddy.” She sobs. Mark grabs her wish and picks her up in his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder, still crying angrily.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s over now.” He murmurs reassuringly. Running his hand up and down her back. I let out a breathe I didn’t know I was holding, tears staring to fall out of my eyes because I can feel them.

“Daddy’s so sorry they touched you.” Mark says to her. My legs giving up on me, I lean against the bed for support, wiping my tears away. Mark gently rocks her until she stops crying, and even after that he keeps rubbing her back until her arms fall limp at her sides. She cried herself to sleep.

Once she’s asleep, Mark walks over to me. He reaches out and catches a tear with his thumb before cupping my cheek. More tears start to pour out of my eyes as I close them and lean onto his touch. When he removes his hand I open them.

“She peed herself.” Mark observes, placing his hand under her butt. I shake my head, revolted. For the first time in my life I’m thinking about how to get those four doctors fired. It’s usually Mark who has that kind of reaction, but for once I’m understanding him. They will pay for what they did to my daughter.

We hear the sound of the door opening and turn around, finding a doctor, not one of Zoe’s four tormentors, holding the door half open.

“Mr and Mrs Tuan?” He says before walking in. As he comes inside, the four culprits follow him in a line like small ants.

“I’m Dr Villanueva. I’m the director of this hospital .” He says.

They sent the director, of course. California’s richest CEO is angry, who else would you send? I can see them coming for a thousand miles away. And I know it won’t work, because all they’re going to do is apologize and this not what Zoe, Mark and I want. He has the balls to try and get a handshake from Mark, but he’s rewarded by his cool and impassive stare.

He clears his throat.

“The doctors were told by her teacher that Zoe didn’t like to be touched. But they understood that it was only in the medical context.” He explain. “Like fear of needles, stethoscopes, fear of medical care in general.”

Just how stupid is this? Their excuse only make me angrier. I thought they would come up with something a little bit more understandable, but the bottom line of this is that Zoe had to go through this just because they were stupid.

“In the name of this hospital, I would like to apolo-“

“I don’t want to hear it.” Mark cuts him off.

“Does anyone have the slightest idea how Zoe felt?” I ask our little audience. The doctors look at each other. “And you have to apologize for it? For something you don’t even understand?”

I am angry. I am so mad that my little girl suffered like that because of their utter dumbness. I know how it feels to have your boundaries violated, and I had hoped it would never happen to any of my kids.

“This was almost like rape.” I say the words before I can weight them. I see their eyes grow wide, the director shrinking in his shoes.

“Mrs Tuan, let’s not use such big words-“

“I’ve been through this, and I know how she feels.” I cut him off taking bold steps closer to them. “Don’t tell me not to use that word because you have no idea how it feels to have your boundaries violated. It might not have been sexual but it is just as serious and traumatizing. You pit our daughter through her worst nightmare and you are going to pay for it. We are going to sue this hospital and we won’t stop until each of you lose their job.” By the time I’m done I realize that I’m shaking and I’m about to cry again.

The director has his mouth hanging open, and almost forgets to close it.

“Mrs Tuan-“

“We’re taking her home.” Mark chimes in, his tone cold, firm and categorical. The director glances quickly at Mark.

“I’ll get the paperwork ready.” He declares before leaving the room with his soldiers. I turn around to face Mark, my eyes full of tears. He still has Zoe in his arms. I don’t know how he doesn’t tore of holding her, it’s been years since I can’t even lift her up.

“Come here.” He murmurs quietly, stretching his hand out to me. I step closer to my husband, and he places his hand on the back of my nape and kisses my forehead.

“You’ll get them fired, right?” I plead, looking up at him with teary eyes.

“I promise. Let’s take out baby home now.” He murmurs before kissing my lips.


Albert X MC

“Albert?” the young barista called. 

Albert made his way over to the counter and grabbed the cup. He glanced at where his name should be and found Glasses Guy written instead. “Excuse me?” He caught the attention of the young girl. 

“Hi!” She certainly was a cheerful person. “Is everything okay?”

“This isn’t my name.” Albert frowned and pointed at the name. 

The girl giggled and replied, “Well of course not. It’s a nickname. You’re a guy and you have glasses.”

“I understand the implications behind the name on the cup. But it’s not my name.” He checked his watch and sighed. “I don’t have time to argue anymore. But I’ll be back.”

“I’m looking forward to it!” The young woman smiled. “Have a nice day!”

Albert did return. He returned day after day, and each day, he got a new nickname.


Mr. Intelligent

“You just seem so smart,” the barista gushed. “You use big words all the time and seem really well put together.”

Albert appreciated the compliment but frowned nonetheless. “My name is Albert.”

The young woman smiled. “I know.”


Cute Guy with the Glasses

“Are you serious?”

“You’re cute and you have glasses. I’ve stated the facts here.”

“Albert,” Albert reminded her. “That’s my name.”

“I’ll never forget it.”


Always So Serious

“Why?” Albert groaned.

The barista pouted and said, “Because you’re always frowning. Turn that frown upside down!”

“Get my name right and maybe I will.”


Boyfriend Material

“Honestly.” Albert rolled his eyes. 

“Any girl would be lucky to have you.” She giggled. “You’re just so adorable!”

“Don’t patronize me.”


Nerd Who’s Probably Super Ripped

“Why would you write this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I think you’re secretly ripped. You know? Like, super strong.”

“How hard is it to spell Albert?”


The Regular Who Hates Nicknames

“I mean,” Albert sighed. “They’re not the worst.”

She grinned. “I knew you’d come around!” 

“I never said that.”


My Favorite Customer

“Really? Me?” Albert asked. “Are you sure you have the right guy?”

“You’re my only regular,” the young woman replied with a smile and a shrug. “I get excited whenever I see you walking through the door.”

“Y-You what?” Albert’s face turned a bright pink color. 

“Aw, you’re blushing!” she cooed. “That’s so adorable!”

“Seriously?” Albert groaned. “Why point it out?”


My Pal Al

“Is this what you really think of me?” Albert asked. 

“Yeah!” She clapped and grinned a magnificent grin. “You’re my best customer, Albert! We’re friends now! Best friends!”

“If you say so.”

The next day, Albert approached the counter and yet again came face to face with the same barista. “Don’t you ever have a day off?” he grumbled in a teasing manner.

“Just the weekends!” The young barista smiled. “I like coming into work! You’re my favorite customer! Seeing your smiling face every day makes me feel better!”

Albert frowned and then said, “The regular, please.”

She smiled and said. “Right. One iced green tea mocha frap.”

“What? But-that’s-that’s not right,” Albert stuttered. 

The woman laughed and showed him that she had actually written Black Coffee w/an Extra pump of Espresso. “A iced green tea mocha frap isn’t something we serve. I don’t think any coffee store serves that.” She shook her head and wrote yet another nickname down.

“I knew that,” Albert muttered as he paid for the drink.

“Of course you did.” The barista smiled and winked at him. A few minutes later, she called, “Albert!” 

Albert walked over to the counter and grabbed the cup. “What have you come up with today?” he murmured to himself. 

The barista was looking anywhere but at Albert. She kept glancing his way and was bitting her lip. 

Albert looked at the cup and found Call me? with a phone number following right after. He looked up with surprise showing on his face. After a moment, he finally caught her eye. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” She came up to the counter, but instead of her usual grin, she seemed nervous. 

“My name is Albert.”

“I know,” she replied, her grin slowly returning to her face. 

Albert soon found himself mirroring her. “I just think you should remember that.”


“Because when I call you tonight, I would hope that you’d remember my name.”

anonymous asked:

Ok but what if Lexa really removes her golden forehead-thing every time before sex and it usually all goes over well, but one time, damn you Clork, things got a little ~steamy~ and she forgets about it till later when she goes to retrieve it but??? It's not there??? And tiny Lexa starts to panic cause now she has to explain to Titus that she needs another one cause Cloke fucked her too well???

Fkdnjejf yes and I love how Clarke’s name became spelled poorer as this message continued hahaha what’s a cloke I read choke the first time and I was like they did WHAT during sex

superblueluver  asked:

Ok, so I have a plan to deal with the art thief! Their "following" page is public, and they follow a rather well known blog (it's a name that I'm not sure how to spell, but it begins with "rha" or "rah", I forget which.) Anyways, if we can all send messages to this popular blog, maybe they can call this person out publicly, or use them as an example in a post/rant about art thieves! Just an idea...

Hmm that might work but its imposible but i hope it works though but how will know that her blog is in public so example u can see peoples messages and i duno just screensot maybe and also thanks u should keep an eye socket of them who knows maybe she might steal again

anonymous asked:

An Erika x male! Reader oneshot where he’s really calm, collected and not really interested in anime but will happily sit with her while she reads manga, watch anime with her and even cosplay if she wanted him to. Perhaps there could also be a flashback to how they met, him possibly being a close friend of Dotachin (I keep forgetting how to spell his proper name ;-; ) and immediately seeing her as cute but a tad bit on the weird side. Hope that made sense.

Yes, male reader! We don’t get these pretty much at all but I love writing them so this was really nice ^_^ I hope you like it!

You sat on the couch, patiently waiting as various fabrics and plastic molds were curiously strewn about, Erika sitting in the floor in front of you with a sketchbook in one hand and a few manga volumes in the other. She’d been absolutely ecstatic when Walker had informed her of the upcoming con that would be held in Shinjuku. You, being the angel you were, agreed to join her immediately, nodding as she planned out the characters you’d be cosplaying as on each day. Her eyes remained fixated on the sketchbook, placing the manga on the floor in front of her to make a grabbing gesture towards you, in sync with the beat of the anime opening playing from her phone.You made your way to sit beside her, the few feet you had moved made the smell of plastic and ramen more prominent.

“So,” Erika turned to you, leaning into your side as she held up a sketch with your measurements, having done this many times before, “how do you feel about spandex?” Your brows furrowed, considering the fabric hesitantly. Your girlfriend’s pleading eyes looked up at you, her expression hopeful.

You reached a hand up to scratch the back of your head, avoiding eye contact for a moment, sighing, and muttering a bit exasperatedly, “Fine, but only for one day.” You sent her an amused look, her smile wide as she beamed. There was a muttered “thank you” before she planted a kiss on your cheek, continuing to write notes on the page in front of her.

Seeing her like this, you couldn’t help but think of the first time you’d met her, planning cosplays in the opened hatch of Saburo’s van, Walker throwing in ideas every so often as you and Kyohei made your way towards them. It was clear in your mind; Kyohei introducing the rest of the van gang to you and watching Erika’s eyes light up, shouting expletives among her many thank you’s to Kyohei. Fortunately or unfortunately for you, she’d been planning to cosplay a group from a particular show she’d gotten into and had been one person short. You were frozen in stunned silence, a tape measure wrapping around nearly every part of your body as Walker jotted down the numbers. Usually, you would have said something, opposed in some fashion, maybe pushed the grabby hands roaming your body away from you. Instead, you had found yourself smiling slightly, a near-unnoticeable upturn of your lips as you raised your arms, allowing better access for the cute girl in front of you who rambled excitedly.

When you refocused on the situation in front of you, your arm had found its way around Erika’s waist, her sitting in your lap as she made a shopping list for the missing materials she needed, you smiled again. It was wide, unabashed, and the slightest bit embarrassing. You leaned into her back, hiding your face and humming in reply to any questions she sent your way. Erika’s voice faded into silence, turning to you when she got the hint that your mind was elsewhere. You pulled your face from her back to meet her eyes, the light of the setting sun filtered in through the window to cast an orange halo around Erika’s form. Your eyes met, waiting in silence for the other to move.

“This is so shoujo…” You blinked once. Twice. And then you were laughing, loud and boisterous, Erika’s giggles mixing in, her eyes watering as she mumbled, “N-no, I’m s-s-serious!” You continued, the laughter slowing and dying down into silence. You looked up at her hysterical tears running down her cheeks, face red and arms wrapped around her now-aching abdomen.

You reached up, tapping her chin gently to catch her attention. There was a noise of surprise as Erika wiped her eyes, turning her head to look at you. “Thanks,” her brows furrowed, mouth opening to speak, to ask why, before they were sealed against yours. All eyes fell shut as hands came to link behind your neck, the cosplay behind the two of you forgotten and the music fading away in the afternoon sun.

- Pasya