i looked up from drawing and this is what i saw

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™ .

2

Producer Jeff Bhasker faced a daunting task several months ago. After having worked with Kanye West and winning Grammy Awards for producing Mark Ronson’s “Uptown Funk,” and Fun.’s 2012 album “Some Nights,” he had to decide whether to take on a new project: the debut solo album of One Direction member Harry Styles.

“I’d just had a baby, and I was kind of like, ‘Eh, I don’t know if I’ll jump into this,‘” Bhasker tells Variety. He agreed to have Styles come over to “just talk,” and proceeded to put him through the Bhasker home sniff test. “My dog tends to bite people, and he was kind of scoping Harry out,” Bhasker explains. Styles “did this move — like a little shoot the gun with his finger, and my dog walked over and started licking his finger. That’s when I was, like, ‘This guy has something special.'”

Once music came into the mix, Bhasker was sold. “He started playing references of what he wanted to do, which sounded like a cool rock band. I got it, and could see where if we pulled this off, it would be one of the coolest things ever. But he needed a buddy who plays guitar like he’s Keith Richards.” The insinuation being: Styles is the Mick Jagger in this scenario.

Adds Bhasker: “I’m so proud of the album itself, and also of Harry for being so brave, and committing 100%, and writing the kind of vulnerable lyrics that he wrote, and not pandering to what people thought he would do. People have no idea that this is what Harry Styles is like. Just like I didn’t know. He’s obviously very famous and beloved, but people don’t know the depths of what an amazing personality and artist he is.”

Variety spoke with Bhasker about the recording of “Harry Styles” ahead of the album’s May 12 release: 

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ikke snakk til meg
  • we open with sana reciting this surah, which i see as an effort from sana to try and regain focus on her faith (but you should ask the muslims in the fandom <3)
  • very violent online abuse flashes before her eyes, apparently from when she was in middle school (here’s a detailing of the abuse)
  • once again, sana’s prayer is interrupted (it’s always interrupted either by an external character, or by her own thoughts…at the end of the series we’ll see her pray uninterrupted and it will be gorgeous)
  • we get this beautiful shot of literal and metaphorical self reflection. sana is broken after the latest events and she is now trying to pick herself back up (so, of course, she tries to go back to the beginning: the sana we first saw on the show, before it all started)
  • adding the above piece of art for reasons (like to charge/reblog to cast)
  • we’ve seen sana wear very loose hijabs this season, i remember people commenting on it. here, she tightens the fabric around her neck. i see it as her trying to protect herself. she needs all the extra strength she can get. all the extra fabric between her and the world.
  • she tries to reach out for the only friend (we know of) she could have left: jamilla. but we see they never got closure on the “sharmutta incident” and, when sana scrolls up, she is reminded of how much her and jamilla differ from one another. and she gives up.
  • quick note: i am not too happy too see jamilla painted as this hating muslimah but i’ll wait until the end of the series. her comment “i was just trying to protect you” reminds me a lot of sonja, who i hated really badly when she confronted isak during the hotel scene. but who redeemed herself and explained her behaviour in the end.
  • we see their last messages are from january 2016, so just after season 1 if i’m not mistaken? the tension started then and that’s probably why sana and her were already at war during season 2.
  • anyone knows what game the norwegians are playing at the school? it looks like a dance of some sorts: the way they’re placed and the couple is running in between the two groups…
  • isak is wearing a dandelion. from twitter: løvetannbarn (dandelion child) means person that has survived almost impossible upbringing.
  • this time, the lyrics are so on the nose even the beautiful subbers decided to translate some of them: an even song. to me, reminiscent of all the rumours spread about him paralleling the rumours spread about sana right now.
  • we see the pictures from the teaser: isak’s eye, sara (same jacket), noora…
    we’re missing the brown hair with a hand ruffling them and the carrot munching (but i feel like the carrot bit was more symbolic than anything)
  • sana is back to the beginning (see above) except, this time, it’s reversed: she’s not joining the girl squad and the russbuss. she’s leaving both.
  • liar liar pants on fire
  • and she’s not trying to show, like in her first clip where she sassed vilde and told her being a russ was punished by stoning, that she can and will become a russ. she’s instead using her faith as a reason for why she doesn’t want to be a russ. very flippening, much reversal.
  • sana goes to class and…
  • the book is open on a page about dandelions.
  • which brings me to the symbolism of the dandelion. according to google, dandelion translates to “dent de lion” in french which means “lion’s tooth” (i can vouch for that), summoning the symbolic meaning of lions: courage, pride, family (connection/communication). the dandelion is also a sun symbol (#sanasol).
  • we get this exchange that i LOVE but that, unfortunately, is getting misunderstood: sana and isak are awkward around each other but both really want to talk to each other. sana, after looking at isak’s very obvious blackeye, glances at the dandelion in his hair. isak scoffs and takes it off.
    you can’t take a black eye off. you can’t get rid of that barrier between two people. but you can take a flower off. i feel like the flower, here, is a perfect way for them to (in the sweetest way) break the ice. our attention is briefly redirected from the (devastating) black eye to the (hopeful) flower and, for a moment, everything is OK.

[cont. after the “read more”]

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10 girls I keep in my heart

1. Beauty was never your goal. Your eyeliner is sharp, a blade, war paint. Your laugh is deep and unwavering, open mouthed to bear fangs. I remember when you cut your long hair off and streaked it with pink. Not like a fairy but like a fire. Yet water runs through your veins. You love your mother so.

2. Oh girl of the earth, you never liked poetry. I think you were carved from the mountains that you’ve never seen. The strongest winds cannot move you. Your hands never rub raw. Yet your edges are soft for stone.


3. Your house is full of beautiful things but you don’t see any of it. Nothing ever feels like home. Storms blow through you so often I think you gave up on rebuilding. And now you live among the rubble. Your anger broke my windows and cut at my cheeks. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

4. How does your smile always manage to reach your ears? So wide you have to close your eyes to make room. Your hugs nearly suffocate me but I don’t mind at all. You play nirvana on your guitar and you don’t understand the lyrics. I hope you never do.

5. I miss you everyday. The gentlest soul on earth. The world hasn’t given you half as much as you deserve. I can’t believe how many people don’t even know your name. Your heart is full of tulips and an angel sent you my way.

6. My first love. You opened my eyes. We spoke our own language and danced like no one was watching. I kept every drawing you made for me. I wonder if you remember me from time to time.

7. My oldest friend. We are holding hands underwater. We are hiding in bushes. We are spinning elaborate stories and pretending not to notice how they unravel. You used to fall asleep on my shoulder. I hope our paths cross soon.

8. You are so much made from so little. You radiate with the force of the sun your body can barely contain you. How you saw me through your own light I do not know. Your name is from the moon and Jupiter is in the art you make. Oh girl born to live.

9. I’ve seen 7000 sides of you. Multidimensional and deep as an ocean. And what lives under the surface bites. I’ve mastered the art of walking on water. I was never good enough to reach you. But someone will be. Someone is coming. I promise.

10. How is it that every song is about you? I wonder if you realize that I look for you everywhere. Your soul is in splinters they’ve flown up to space. They’re tangled in trees. You’ve sent them my way. Oh I’ve felt you exploding not in anger but in creation. Galaxy after galaxy. Oh nebulas light my way home. You are dandelions spilling over rolling hills. You are grass stained jeans. You are Ferris wheels at sunset

The night starts with a big, spicy Philly cheese steak. It’s about 6pm. I’ve been wanting to try the cheese steak from this corny, 50’s retro place for a long time. I gobble down the big greasy bowl of meat, hot sauce, and cheese, then head to the coffee shop for my weekly draw group. A little after I get home, about 10pm, a stomach ache comes on. “Damn, guess spicy foods are out.” I’ve been getting stomach aches every time I have spicy Thai or hot wings. I google search about spice pain- possible stomach ulcer? “I guess I have been stressed lately, but no more than usual I don’t think…” File under “Will investigate further later.“ According to the comments on this health website, a glass of milk will help. Gulp one down, go to bed.

Wrestle to sleep for about an hour. Realize the ache is just over the required pain threshold to keep you from sleeping. Do some work on my comic, more tired, but stomach worse. Will play batman until I fall asleep. I feel like I’m just running in circles… How many times have I failed this mission? Batman, batman, stomach now hurts too bad to enjoy an active task like video games. Deliriously tired. Would be great to sleep through the rest of this abdominal temper tantrum. Try the old “hot shower will make you sleep” trick. Take some Pepto-Bismol, and some generic acetaminophen. Out of the shower, hurts to walk around now, and to lie down. Guess I’ll have to wait it out with my eyes open. Call and leave my Doc a message, maybe will get a spot in there tomorrow. Need to get that ulcer discovered… Time to enjoy a passive task like watching TV. Breaking Bad feels like the right mixture of funny and painful, just like me and my burning spice belly. Damn, I can’t even enjoy that part where during Hank’s interrogation of that meth head, Wendy, she accuses Hank of trying to buy sexual services from her on behalf of an underage “football player” (a misunderstanding involving Walter Jr. from a few episodes before). Oh hell. Time to look up what time emergency medical clinics open. Guess I’ll have to pay out of pocket since I can’t wait for my Doc tomorrow.  It’s about 4am now. Earliest clinic opens at 8. Now hungry again, but can’t eat what with all the pain. One hour down. Man, this is really starting to hurt. Can I really wait 3 more hours? Sitting is starting to hurt as much as lying and standing. And I’m still not enjoying TV. Okay, I’ve come to a decision…. 

“Hey, Kayla, my stomach still hurts, I’m thinking about driving to the ER, do you wanna come?” “Oh! Ya, sure. What time is it?” “It’s 5:30”. I  call the hospital “Hey, I’ve had a pretty bad stomach ache all night, I’m thinking of coming by.” Operator: *long pause* “Haha, well, okay! We’re open all night, so just come on in.” 

Driving with a stomach ache is not so bad, because you’re already hunched over. Wish Kayla could drive, but she doesn’t really know how, probably would have a panic attack and would definitely crash. Interesting that they have ER parking, I wonder how many ER patients drive themselves here… All bodily positions hurt my insides now, signing in to this place sucks. Give Kayla half the paperwork to fill out, glad she’s here, or this would be really boring. Man, they sure take a long time for someone trying to get into an empty emergency room… Signing in with a nurse, she ask me my height and I say “ ‘5’’8”, but I notice she puts down “ ‘5’’7”… They want to look at my pee, they always want to see my pee. I pee, no blood, so whatever that tells them means I’m getting an ultrasound first. Then a young nurse named Ken, a cool Asian dude with screws through both ears, squirts so much morphine into my IV that I lean back and audibly say “oh my god.” I feel it ripple like a shock wave from my arm down to the ends of my body. My belly is feeling alright now. 

The ultrasound technician tells me that babies are the least common thing she uses ultrasounds for. My joke has fallen flat. Back in the room, the doctor and his manila folder tell me “Good news! No gallstones, there are kidney stones inside your kidneys, but since they are inside, you shouldn’t be feeling the pain from those.” “Wait, does that mean I have to pee those stones out at some poin–” It is not discussed again. Seeing that neither organ has the appropriate stones, Doc would “rather not expose me to more radiation than necessary” and is working on discharging me. But, “I won’t leave here without a diagnosis.” 

In I go to the CT scan tube. That hot squish of contrast dye spreading through my veins. “Okay, we’re moving you into a room upstairs.” Says a hippy technician. Upstairs in my sweet and swanky single with couch, a person I’m pretty sure is just a businessman disguised in medical scrubs types on a computer. He takes down my answers to what seem like pre-surgery questions. “Do you have anybody specific on file in the event you are medically unable to yield consent  for yourself?” This, combined fact that they won’t feed me, makes me wonder what it is I’m going into surgery for. I saw this same thing about a year and a half ago with the whole brain debacle, but that’s a story for another time. Several medical people dip in, sprinkle breadcrumbs of information; it’s like a game show challenge that combines a scavenger hunt with a jigsaw puzzle. You have to gather the pieces of information from their hiding places, then assemble them in the correct order to reveal an answer. A tech comes in and spoils the game, “You seem to have a lot of questions, so I just want to make sure, you know you have appendicitis right? We’re about to take it out.” “Thank god,” I think. “It’s not the spicy foods. Spicy foods are still in.” Downstairs, in pre-op, I complain to my plain-clothes surgeon about how analog tests like pressing on my stomach are remarkably inaccurate, since a doctor’s subjective interpretation of my poor description of say, “the pain is slightly higher” can rule out appendicitis, the same appendicitis that a machine might spot an hour later. I tell him that I almost got sent home. My surgeon tells me he’s been doing analogue tests for 30 years, and not to worry about it. I start to tell him how “my deadpan reaction to pain also causes a lot of people to misdiagnose me, that a lot of people laugh when I describe how I’m in pai–”, but he walks away in the middle to get dressed for surgery. The operating room has big TVs and lights, it looks like a set, and I consider the possibility of fake hospitals as the anesthesia takes the wheel.

In the recovery area, the nurse tells me how big, inflamed appendixes can be agitated by spicy foods, foods high in fat, and dense foods like heavy cheese. I see an image of a spotlit cheese steak appear in a black void. Nurse feeds me ice chips and tells me she craves ice chips when she’s dehydrated. I suggest that she only craves ice chips because she works in a hospital, that ice chips are too unsatisfying a thing to crave at random, and that most people would just crave water. She agrees. Back upstairs in my room, it is now 8pm, and it has been 26 hours since I’ve eaten. I’ve been hydrated only through IV’s. The driest mouth and the clearest pee. Because the lingering anesthetic can cause nausea and vomiting, they will only give me jello. I go nuts on the jello. They continue to give me every jello I ask for, one at a time, like a test. Way past where I though the cutoff point would be, the nurse tells me “That’s it! There’s no more jello! You ate all the jello on this floor.” You’re damn right I did, you’re damn right….

anonymous asked:

(1) Hi Viria, I hope you are well :) I am sorry to bother you with this, but it's really important for me, and I wanted to share it with you. It'll be long and kinda sad at first, but it gets better, trust me. I'm a 23 y/o latina art student. When I was a baby, my mom left my dad and remarried, and my little sister was born when I was 10. She is the light of my life and I love her to no end. Our mom, however, had had and undiagnosed and untreated mental illness for years, and one day

(2) during a severe crisis she hurt us really bad. I was 12. She was taken away to a psychiatric hospital and Child Services prohibited her from ever getting near us again. Since then, I have been taking care of my little sister and practically raised her while my stepdad worked 2-3 shifts to afford our education and payment for my mom’s hospital, living and meds. He was always working and I took full responsibility for my sis. As you can imagine, even though I loved her with my life, 

 (3) the situation was very stressful and exhausting for me. By the time I was 15, I looked every bit a teen mom. One particularly hard night when my little sis had been crying about mom, I couldn’t sleep. So I turned to something that calmed me: the Harry Potter books. I read them online, and somehow ended up searching for HP fanart. That was the night I stumbled upon your DA account. And boy, did I love it! I know back in 2011 your skills weren’t what they are now,

(4) but I was blown away, and what’s more, I felt inspired to draw. I had never tried to make any art before; it wasn’t “my thing”. But that night, you inspired me. As time went by I kept drawing and closely followed your improvements. Your art was so relaxing, calming, and inspiring, that it really helped me during hard times. You kinda dragged me into all the cool fandoms, series and animes, and I found life to be far more bearable with so many awesome things to love and think about.

(5) Your DA and Tumblr were some sort of safe sapce for me. It always cheered me up and gave me joy, peace, inspiration. When the time came, I choose to study Art at college. It turned out you did too, and you kept up all the good stuff in your blogs. Weirdly enough, I kept feeling a sense of pride whenever you improved and got better. I was so strange that you were so so far away and didn’t even know I existed but you helped me so much.

(6) I got accepted at my country’s top University to study Fine Arts; I moved cities and took my sister with me; she grew into a wonderful, sensible, peaceful child, and her presence motivated me to be the best version of myself, while your art motivated me to keep expanding my academic/artistic abilities. Life was hard but good at college, and I had incredible opportunities. I am graduating this spring with an advanced studies specialization, and was recently hired to work at

(7) of a movie. It’s like living a dream. And tonight, just a couple hours ago, the most incredible thing happened. After dinner, my little sis came to me, phone in hand, and said “Hey Ana, you won’t believe what I found. There’s this girl who makes amazing art of all the fandoms you’re in. Her drawings are gorgeous and she has so many!”. She showed me your tumblr. I wanted to laugh and cry. She was amazed when she saw your old drawings and your current ones; speechless.

(8) She fell in love, and you know what? Immediatly after, she went to draw. She’s been doing so the past hours. I know this was offensively long, but Viria, I needed to thank you for what you did. Your art has always been SO much more than just digital drawings of fictional characters. It’s been the source of peace, safety and joy that so many of us crave. You have wonderfully impacted and influenced many people across the world with everything you make.

(9) I am so glad you exist and do what you do; you gave me the hobby that grew into my passion, thaught me so much, inspired me beyond belief and most of all, you helped make life more bearable. And now, you have made the same for my sister. Viria, the world wouldn’t be the same without you. You are truly a magnificent light among us, and for your existence and passion I’ll be forever grateful. Thank you, and may you always live the beautiful, happy, awesome life you deserve. Thank you.


I’m not even kidding I was sitting here peacefully chewing sandwich and by the end of these messages the sandwich was too salty so was my cappuccino I swear you got me to tears and now i’m just like

I’m a shaking emotional leaf but thank you so much for writing me! It means so much and i’m so touched and i just wish you and your sister all the best of luck, though it seems like you don’t really need it. Thank you, and I hope life goes wonderfully for you and your family! 

Yuri on Ice interview translation - PASH! 2017/05 (p24-25)

I am pleased to bring you the very first interview with director Sayo Yamamoto!!! You don’t know how much I’ve been waiting for this… This one is pretty general because of course she has never been interviewed before so they are asking her the basics, but it’s very interesting to finally hear things from her perspective too, since she’s the one who started it all. More interviews with her will be appearing in other magazines in the near future, I’m looking forward to those ones too.

Also, I believe a bright future is to be expected for Yuri on Ice, since she seems to have lots of plans…!! (I was shivering typing out the translation, lol)

Translation is under the cut.

***If you wish to share this translation please do it by reblogging or posting a link to it***

***Re-translating into other languages is ok but please mention that this post is the source***


Interview (first appearance in media!)
The world of “Yuri on Ice” that director Yamamoto wanted to create
With 8 notebooks full of notes in one hand, director Sayo Yamamoto has answered our interview for the first time. We have asked her how this new animation that no one had ever seen before was born.

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our little family pt.1 | park jimin

Pairing: Father! Jimin + Reader 

Genre: Fluff/Angst + parent au 

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You were just a pre-school teacher, a simple dream that came true as you always adored children. But what you didn’t know, was how one child and her very special father would change you dream forever. 

Parts: 1 2

“Jieun-ah, please.” Jimin sighed, as he tried putting her arms through the sleeves of her baby pink coat, which she shrugged back off again for the nth time making Jimin let out a soft groan in exasperation.

“Jieun-ah…” Jimin pleaded.

“I don’t want to go to school daddy.” Jieun said softly, pouting as she looked at her dad with round eyes, the corners watering slightly as Jimin felt his resolve weaken at the sight of his daughter before him.

Sighing, he grabbed her hands and put on a large grin, “Jieun-ah, It’ll be fun!” he tried cheering, “Daddy had loved going to school all his life (what a lie) and really wished he could go again.”

“Then why don’t you come with me?” Jieun asked, tugging at the ends of her little pale blue sundress, the color contrasting strongly against her raven blank hair that tumbled around her shoulders in soft curls.

Cradling her face in his hands, her cheeks squishing up together making Jimin chuckle slightly, he said, “Daddy’s too old now, but if anything happens I’ll be there for you, alright? Do you wanna go now? I promise it’ll be great.”

“Pinky promise?” Jieun asked, holding out her pinky to Jimin’s face as he laughed a little, hooking her tiny pinky within his and bringing them together before pressing a small kiss to her hands, “I promise baby.”

“Hi guys!! Welcome! Hello!” you smiled happily as the kids walked one by one into your class, all their faces with expressions that varied, some happy, some mad, some scared and some with tears and snot dripping from their little noses.

Oh children. 

“There you go Jieun-ah, I’ll pick you up in a couple hours okay?”

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All It Takes (three)

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Be happy Bucky is here to handle everything.

Word Count: 4116 | Rating: R

Warnings: SMUT. oral (f receiving), face riding, dirty talking, two nsfw gifs, UNPROTECTED SEX (wrap your wang, before you bang!)

A/N: I am just going to leave this for y’all thirsty hoes. But I’m baffled by the feedback I got on the first tow part, so just wanna say THANK YOU!

also sorry for any typos

Masterlist here

All It Takes Part One Part Two 

(*gifs are not mine!)

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anonymous asked:

Yo could you share some of your headcanons for the deh kiddos :O ?! I'm really curious!!

*cracks knuckles* HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT (these are generally feel-good and going off of a Connor Lived And Everything Gets Better AU set of ten [+ one extra] headcanons for the kids where they’re all friends)

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spaces in between (m)

Pairing: Fratboy!Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: When you were maddeningly in love with your best friend/fuck buddy, bringing him as a date to a wedding was probably not the best idea.

Genre/Count: Smut & Fluff [ NC-17 ]   |   11.7k words

Note: alkewrjaer so excited to finally post this after sitting in my drafts for years. meet m’boy fuccboi!hoseok.


It was never a good idea and you should’ve stopped it from the first time, or the first week, the first month, before it went too far. But you didn’t. You were sucked into his world and him into yours. Although your lives were entangled from the very beginning, it was never meant to go this far.

Hoseok pushed himself into you again, feeling the tightness wrapping snugly around him as he released a low groan of pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good, always so good.” He buried his face in your neck as you twisted your fingers into the soft strands of his chocolate locks. He growled and thrusted into you over and over, bringing you to the edge. “Babe, shit. Goddamn, you’re so tight. Pussy always so good for me. Only for me.” He jerked his hips particularly hard, hitting that delicious spot inside of you. “Tell me.”

“Only for you,” you echoed in a gasp, head thrown back as your body arched off the bed. His mouth captured one of your peaks. The heat a contrast against the cool of his room. His abs, defined and beautiful, were layered by a sheen layer of sweat as he pounded into you. Moans tumbled from both your lips, swallowed by his mouth covering yours.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he muttered, nipping his way down your jaw and your neck. He knew you hated it when he marked you, hated it because everyone could see. What he didn’t know was that you mostly hated it because it made things more real than it actually was. A whine left your lips as he continued to print shades of blue onto the canvas of your skin. “I’m so close, babe, come with me.”

And you would. You always did, after all. Your fingers found purchase on his broad shoulders as he moved faster, pushing into you deeper and harder. The tension coiled in your stomach as the electricity coursed through your veins and straight to the space between your thighs, space filled by, and only by, Hoseok. The orgasm wracked shudders in your body as you let out a cry, the same time Hoseok groaned into your neck. Heavy breaths heaved your chest as Hoseok pulled out with a small grunt and slumped onto the space next to you.

The two of you laid in silence for a few minutes. The deafening emptiness drawing your fears forward. It always happened. No matter how many times you’ve been in bed with him, you’ve regretted every single one. The two of you were stuck in this limbo with too many questions and not a single answer.

Answers you sought and answers he couldn’t give.

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Leather Jackets - Bucky Barnes AU

Request: “Can you make a Bucky imagine in which he’s like the bad boy who is really cool and falls for y/n and is super sweet around her?” // I did it as a Greaser AU because I was listening to the Grease soundtrack while writing lol

Word Count: 1167 // My requests are still open!!


The Greasers didn’t like to be messed with. If you’re not at their level, you can’t speak to them. You go near them, you’re dead.

Pacing quickly down the sidewalk, you avoided the glare of the boys in the red Chevrolet parked across the street. A message alert on your phone made you stop, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

Steve: Just overheard that the Greasers are gonna be at the coffee shop. Be careful.

Mentally groaning in fear of anyone hearing you, you slipped into the door of the cafe, walking with your head down.

“Hi, uh, Miss? What would you like?” The barista grinned at you, as you looked up from your phone. “Sorry, can I just have a juice please?”

“What’s your name?” She asked, holding your cup in one hand and a sharpie in the other. “Y/N.” You pronounced, smiling back.

Soon enough, your name was called and you took your drink, walking out of the store.

You looked around before pushing the door open, seeing the Chevrolet had moved. Breathing a sigh of relief, you pushed the door open and began your walk home.

Going to grab your phone from your back pocket, you bumped into someone.

Feeling a hand on your back, you looked up, making direct eye contact with one of the leaders of the greaser gang, Bucky Barnes.

“I am so sorry, I really wasn’t concentrating. I should look where I’m going, sorr-” You mumbled, rambling away, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Y/N, is it?” He smiled warmly at you, “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“We have English together, right?” He asked, trying to making eye contact as you looked everywhere but his into his eyes.

“That we do,” you laughed nervously, “See you Monday, I guess.”

“See you Monday, Y/N.” He smiled, brushing past you as you walked back home, texting Steve about your ‘incident’.

Soon enough, Monday rolled around.

School always dragged along on a Monday. Whether it be the non existent enthusiasm from the students, or the bore of lessons from teachers paid less than they’re owed.

Grabbing your bag and heading out of the classroom, you avoided the glare of the same boys from the coffee shop stood outside your classroom.

You felt their eyes leave as you trailed outside to try and find your friends, Steve and Peggy.

Walking past the bleachers, you felt all eyes on you as hands gripped your shoulders.

“If it isn’t Little Miss Y/N.” You span around to be met with the eyes of one of Bucky’s gang, another member of the Greasers.

“H-hi?” You questioned, looking away from where he stared deeply at you, backed by two more Greasers; the rest sat on the bleachers.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. May I ask why this pretty little mouth of yours was talking to Barnes outside the coffee shop last night?” You looked up, horrified that anyone had seen yours and Bucky’s conversation.

“I-I didn’t mean anything by it! I bumped into hi-” He pressed a finger over your lips, his minions trailing behind you, as he whistled for more of them to come over.

You were surrounded. You’d seen this happen before, and you prayed every night that they would never do it to you.

Grabbing your bag roughly off your shoulders, you gasped as they pulled your books out one by one, until they reached your sketchbook.

“Well what do we have here? A sketchbook! Let’s have a looky here shall we?” He smirked, picking up the black book from your feet.

Flipping through your doodles and practices, you prayed they wouldn’t find your illustration of the picture Bucky had posted recently.

But they did. Just your luck.

“And it gets better! How 'bout we show this to Buck when he gets here, hey? Is that what you want, Y/N? Attention? Well, sweetheart, that’s what you’re gonna get.”

Tears began to spill down your cheeks as he cascaded the sketchbook to the ground once again, the pencil drawing looking like a watercolour.

“Now, Y/N. How 'bouts we deal with you.” He spat, getting closer to your face. Grinning, he grabbed your hair and pulled your face up to meet his eyes.

Taking a harsh slap to the face, you looked into his eyes as he laughed, “Fuck. You.” you spat.

“What was that, Y/N? Say that again.” He looked shocked, but hid it. “I said fuck you.” He looked at you again, “You’re gonna regret that Y/N.”

Taking another hit, you saw the blood hit the concrete on the other side of the book.

“Hey!” A loud voice echoed from outside their circle, as the rest of the group scattered, you sank to the floor.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” Bucky asked the boy stood opposite you, as you let more tears flow. “You know what, I don’t wanna hear it. Back off.”

Bucky kneeled in front of you, smiling softly. “Y/N?”

“Y-yeah?” You held your nose in fear of it bleeding further.

“I’m so sorry the did that to you, I promise I would never have let them if I would’ve known. Are you alright?”

“Apart from nursing a headache and this nose bleed, I’ll be okay.” You smiled back up at him, his eyes glistening as he looked at you. “Shit, you need to get to the nurse.” He looked around you at the destruction of your bag, trying to pick up your scattered books.

“Did you draw this?” He asked, awe taking over his features. “Um, yes, I did. I’m sorry, it’s lame. I just saw the picture on my feed and I needed prac-”

“Y/N, babe, this is incredible.” He grinned from ear to ear, holding the book so delicately. “T-thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” He slung your bag over his shoulder, offering you a hand as he led you to the nurses office.

“I’m still so sorry, Y/N. Can I please take you for coffee or something to make up for it?” He asked, brushing your hair behind your ear as you held tissue to your nose.

“I don’t drink coffee, but I’m definitely always down for pizza.” You laughed, Bucky joining you. “Well, pizza it is. Are you free tonight?”

- 6 months later -

Finishing the final sentence of your last-minute homework, you shoved the books into your bag as a knock at the door snapped you out of the world of your science work.

Opening the door with a smile, you saw Bucky, donned in his leather jacket and all black outfit.

“Mornin’ baby.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips as you grinned into it. “Good morning, Bucky.”

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked, interlocking his fingers with yours. “I’d sleep better if my boyfriend wouldn’t keep messaging me every five minutes!”

“Well forgive me for caring about you!” He laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You know I love you really.” You nudged him slightly as he grinned. “I love you too, doll.”

like real people do | jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same. 

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

based off hozier’s song ‘like real people do’

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ink-stained skin // reggie mantle soulmate au

Ink-stained Skin

Words: 1.3k

Summary: Reggie attempts to contact his soulmate through words written on his skin. (Y/N) attempts to push her soulmate away.

masterlist

(Y/N) sighed as the writing appeared on her skin. It had read:

‘I got football captain!‘ 

with a smiley face drawn at the end. Pushing herself up from her seat, she made her way towards the bathroom in hope of getting rid of the ink incorporated into her skin. It had been the third time in a week that her soulmate had written to her and it had been the third time in a week she had ignored the words he wrote.

She didn’t want to push him away but she also didn’t want to be with Reggie Mantle, the guy, who on most days had an iQ lower than her six year old cousin. Sure, he was built like a God and sure, he had enough sporting ability to make up for the lack of hers but she couldn’t be with him. Of course, she couldn’t be with him, not when they spent ever waking moment disagreeing over the simplest things. She knew it was him, however she tried her hardest to hide her identity from him.

He had tried to figure out who the person he was destined to be with ever since he realised that they existed.

He was eight when he first realised that his soulmate existed. Unlike the rest of his friends, he didn’t have a name etched into his skin, neither did he have a countdown on the wrist of his prominent arm. To Reggie, there was no sign of him having a soulmate. Until the very day, he saw a messy sketch of what seemed to be a rose appear on his right forearm during math class. He gazed around the room, wondering if it was anyone he already knew. Every year since, on the exact date, a rose appeared on his right forearm.

The sign of his soulmate’s existence that caused him to reach out to them occurred when he was thirteen. He felt a pain in his ankle that caused him to drop to the ground in the midst of a soccer game, clutching it in hopes it would stop the pain.

Later that evening, he picked up the purple sharpie that sat atop of his wooden desk and pressed it against his skin, doodling a frowning face, following it with the words:

‘I hope u r okay.’

He sat waiting for a response from his soulmate, shaking his leg impatiently. He sat waiting for a response; after an hour of waiting, he attempted to contact her again, etching the words:

‘ur probably asleep, i hope u get well soon’ 

and followed it with a doodle of himself.

She stared at his writing, only just noticing how messy it was. Analysing it closely, she realised it was his writing. It was Reggie Mantle’s writing. She recognised it from anywhere. Who wouldn’t recognise their lab partner’s writing?

It had been two weeks since Reggie had wrote to (Y/N) informing him of his new title as the captain of the Riverdale bulldogs.

She felt upset but she didn’t know why. She wasn’t that into Reggie. Looking down at her arm, she noticed a drawing of a sad face followed with the words:

'silent treatment?’

She let out a small laugh at the words, deciding it would be an appropriate time to reply. After eight years of ignoring him, she finally replied to his words.

'never’

She sighed, maybe she had judged Reggie before even giving him a chance. “Oh god, what’s gotten you in this state? Is it Mantle?” Kevin spoke, earning his best friend’s attention. “So when are you going to fuck him?”

(Y/N) spun around in her chair and dragged herself toward him and smacked his arm. “I hate you.”

“Does he even know his infamous soulmate is you?”

“No and he’s not going to find out until we graduate!”

(Y/N) was about to join Kevin on her bed, when she felt a tickling sensation on her left forearm. She smiled at his response, his words making him seem like an excited child during Christmas.

Reggie looked down at his arm, smiling to himself. She had finally written back. “Dude, she wrote back.” he grinned “Andrews, she finally wrote back!”

“I’m happy for you, cap but coach wants us on the field.”

He spent all of practise counting down the minutes until he could reply to his soulmate. He was unsure whether his soulmate was a female or a male but it never really mattered to him.

After showering, he picked up a pen only to notice that his soulmate had drawn a small rabbit on her left wrist. For most of the eight years he knew of his soulmate’s existence, he had always thought that they were left handed, as the drawing of the rose always seemed to appear on his right forearm. He took his place next to Archie, waiting for coach Clayton to enter the locker room with the information about their next game.

Archie looked over at his smitten captain, knowing that there was no way he would be paying attention to a word their Coach had said, too infatuated with the new drawing on his arm. “She actually wrote back. What is she doing?” he mumbled to himself, pulling his phone out from the back pockets of his jeans, wanting to text her.

Reggie was pulled out of his trance as he heard Archie’s mumbled words, his eyes widening slightly, Archie must’ve known who his soulmate was. “She? You know my soulmate!”

“Reggie, calm down, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Reggie nudged Archie playfully “Tell me.”

“No.”

(Y/N) could barely react before Kevin snatched her phone off her and answered Archie’s incoming call. She let out a groan, knowing that it would be related to Reggie.

“You’re writing back to Reggie? (Y/N), that’s a disaster waiting to happen.” Archie exclaimed as soon as she answered, causing Kevin to laugh. “You’ll never be able to hide your identity from him until graduation if you continue replying.”

“My god, Andrews, you sound like you’re in the midst of a mental breakdown.” Kevin scoffed “Plus, she’s only just started drooling over Mantle.”

“I’m coming over! I’m bringing food!”

Reggie sat in his car waiting for Moose to get back with their food. Looking at himself in the rear-view mirror, he noticed a bruise had formed on his bicep. Instantly, he picked up a pen and wrote to her, drawing a winking face

'how did u get ur bruise? hope you haven’t been fighting’

Within a few seconds, his soulmate had already responded.

'SORRY!!!! the door handle was a lot higher than i expected. hope you didn’t feel it.’

Reggie let out a small laugh, not even realising that Moose had joined him in the car.

“Dude, you’re whipped and you don’t even know who this person is. What if it’s some old dude who’s kidnapped your soulmate and is trying to lure you to his house?” Moose groaned. “You did order a steak burrito right?”

A new semester meant new classes, new activities. (Y/N) slumped into her seat during home room, Kevin to her right and Reggie sat behind him. He glanced up from his desk, only to be met with Kevin, whose head instantly shot back to face his best friend.

“Got a problem, Keller?” He spoke, earning a scoff from (Y/N) “You too, (L/N)?”

“Don’t inflate your ego any further there, Reginald. It might burst.” (Y/N) responded, turning back to face the front, not wanting to speak to him any further.

(Y/N) then realised the reason why she had been so hesitant to reveal who she was to him. It was because he was one of the most egotistical people she knew and the person she spoke to through her ink-stained skin was nothing like the person she knew.

As soon as the bell rang, (Y/N) pushed herself out in attempt to beat the crowd that would be gathering in front of her locker. As she rushed, she failed to weave through the desk, hitting her hip on the corner. She let out a groan, clutching her hip instantly.

Reggie felt the pain grow in his hip as he watched (Y/N) try to groan and walk the pain out. His eyes widening and a gasp falling from his lips.

“It’s you. You’re my soulmate.”

Miraculous Headcanon

Warning: i have been adding to this headcanon for nearly a month so it is pretty long xD OOPS SORRY NOT SORRY (i did put a cut though, so, yeah) NO REGRETS

  • Marinette is a youtuber
  • Her channel consists of mostly sped up videos of her drawing designs and making her designs. Some have voice over, some have soothing and relaxing music.
  • Her channel blew up
  • Partially because, wow, she’s really talented for only being in high school
  • And people just really enjoyed watching her work, it’s very unique
  • Sometimes she’ll do simple tutorials on how to make a simple skirt, or get started on designing, but those are more rare videos
  • She has a second channel that is less professional than her main, where she posts a bunch of random vlogs that her and Alya take whenever they do something interesting, or even some random challenges. Most of these videos involve Alya, since she got Marinette to make a second channel for fun vlogs
  • Her international followers (#subtitles) find it very interesting anytime she talks about Ladybug and Chat Noir because there are legit superheroes in Paris and no other part of the world has seen that.
  • They vlog all sorts of things
    • going to the craft store for new fabrics, buttons, patterns, literally anything Marinette needs for her next project (or they’re just bored)
    • They record random things they see around Paris, cosplayers of LB and CN, pigeons being weird, aesthetics
    • Alya and Marinette have a weekly “review” which includes Alya buying something for Marinette to review- mostly themed around her favorite heroes
    • Sometimes just walking around the mall. Nino is spotted in many vlogs as well, but Adrien is rarely seen since he is already around so many cameras in his normal life Marinette is respecting his privacy
  • A lot more below the cut because I have been working on this headcanon for nearly a month!

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We dangerous ones

Aaah, the Lethifold! One of my favourite creatures from reading the book as a child. Thanks to @zinfandelli for suggesting it as a creature, I was psyched to draw Credence with one. 
(And of course I saw the official design on the bluray just as I was about to start colouring, and had to change up a bunch of stuff from my sketch haha)
Art blog: questionartbox

perspective

this is for @ivory-leigh with special thanks to @onemuseleft for her help with the idea

i super didn’t mean to write this tonight but the idea was SO GOOD and i’ve really been jonesing to write

In the weeks following what they’re calling The Battle of New York, Bruce settles into the Tower with an incredible ease.

The floor Tony designed for him is shockingly well-suited to his tastes and needs considering how Tony likes to claim he’s not a team-player. Bruce suspects each floor is equally well-designed and perhaps that’s why they’re all able to slip into a routine so quickly.

It feels like something missing has slotted into place and Bruce can tell just by looking at the others’ faintly bewildered expressions when they look around at the space they share that they feel the same.

Still, Bruce never looks toward Harlem.

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The people for Tony Stark?

Okay, I was talking with my sister about how awesome it would be if in the wake of Civil War, that the people/public in North and South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, EVERYWHERE! Just showed a subtle but strong solidarity for Tony Stark/Iron Man using what Tony is super into. Technology.
Like, picture this:
Hashtags; Tony is trending for MONTHS.
“I stand for the man that stands with me👏🏽 #IStandWithTonyStark #CaptainAmericaWho?”
“#IronMan with a #ironwill for the people and what’s right!”

People view the footage of the airport battle from the grainy cameras posted all over like crazy because someone uploaded it to YouTube. It’s not the best but you can see how team cap just didn’t pull any punches and how Tony had tried to talk despite not hearing what he’s saying. He looks broke , trying to hold everything together.
People lose their minds when they see Cap’s team charge first and when Rhodes falls from the sky and Tony dives after him.
The comments light up and bbbuuuuurrrrrnnn team cap.
“lmao what a fucking joke. tony is trying to talk to him and do you see this guys body language? he’s not hearing anything. Dude wouldn’t even listen to a team member let alone 117 countries”
“LOOK AT THEM, THEY LET THE HYDRA WITCH BITCH ON THEIR TEAM IN NOTHING FLAT BUT GOD FORBID THEY LISTEN TO IRON MAN”
“Yooo, legit they just kept flying after seeing War Machine go down like that? I saw Falcon turn around but I don’t care man, you’ve LIVED and FOUGHT with this dude and he’s obviously seriously hurt and you just keep flying away in the jet you stole??? Cowards. Pathetic.”
“They really look like they’re trying to kill the real heroes. Fuck I’m glad we have Iron Man and Co. with us”

People organize a day online; through tumblr, twitter, insta, Facebook, any way to get the news out that you wear red on this day and you just subtly grab a pen and draw a circle in your palm for a repulsor just like Iron Man’s. And everything blows up that way. News networks talk about it and talk show hosts, the paper has articles on how the public is showing an unimaginable support for Iron Man and the rest of his team that stayed and fought for them and continue to fight for them during the revision of the Accords.

And I want it to be on the news so much that team cap has to watch it and has to know how much everyone loves Tony and what he’s doing and how he went about it. And how he is an actual hero who did his best and how much the public believe and appreciate him.

Jealousy pt.1

Originally posted by nnochu

•Bad language
•Reader x Jungkook
•Filthy, filthy smut
•Took me ages writing this
•Daddy kink
•I’m going to hell for this
•Dirty talk
•Rough, against the wall sex

Don’t take the comments seriously, its just a joke, I don’t wish to purposely insult bts

Summary: Taehyung is jealous of your relationship with Jungkook, Kook reminds you who you really belong too

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EVAK FANFICS RECS / PART 8

ONESHOTS:

  • Confess by eiqhties  
    Summary: In retrospect, it probably wasn’t something he should have said when Even had a toothbrush shoved in his mouth. 

  • jeg tror du ser søte by ufologies
    Summary: Isak has to get glasses for a bit and Even reacts to it.

  • Holy by i_once_wrote_a_dream
    Summary: childhood friends!au; It was a Wednesday when he first saw him. Isak thought he looked like one of his mama’s angels. 

MORE UNDER THE CUT 

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