it always seems like such a good idea at the time

squint at where you’re from

oops sometimes you gotta

spoilers for 413, bellamy/clarke, 1600 words, gen. AO3!


Even though it’s not really the same as coming down in the first time, Bellamy still has this strange sense of deja vu as he looks at the door. The ship is smaller, he has fewer people with him, he feels both more and less sure of what he’ll find. They tried to hit the only spot of green they could see, but the controls are a mess, so he’s not sure they got to it. The whole fucking ship is a mess, built out of whatever scrap they could salvage. Even with six years to perfect it, the thing is still held together with spit and prayer, according to Raven.

But it got them to the ground. They’re back.

“Just open the fucking door!” says Raven, and Bellamy lets out a long breath and finally hits the release.

He knows what he’s hoping for: clean air, plants, blue sky. And he gets all of those.

He just also gets a girl, maybe ten or eleven, with brown hair in braids, pointing a gun at him. Which is honestly fairly encouraging; someone survived, and they have firearms. So she probably came out of the bunker.

He puts his hands up on reflex.

“Hey, uh–we come in peace,” he tries, and then says it again in Trig, for good measure. He doesn’t recognize her, but that doesn’t mean anything. She could be from another clan; there are plenty of them he doesn’t know. Or–his heart trips on the thought–she could be a nightblood. She could have survived because of that, and if she survived–

The girl pulls her gun back and looks at him critically. “Are you Bellamy Blake?”

He blinks a few times. “Um, yeah. I’m Bellamy Blake.”

“Really?”

She sounds skeptical, which doesn’t make any fucking sense. She’s the one who brought it up. There’s no reason for her not to believe him.

“Yeah, really. Did you come out of the bunker? Is my sister with you? Octavia?”

You’re Bellamy?” she says, like she didn’t hear him. She’s making a face like something smells odd. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Taller?” he asks.

Raven pokes her head out. “It’s been five minutes and you’re already being held at gunpoint? You sure have a way with people, Bellamy.”

“Look, we don’t want to hurt you,” he tells the girl. “Just–”

“I know,” she says. “You just want to see Clarke.”

Keep reading

begin again (m)

Summary: As a new professor at Hogwarts, you knew separating your present and your past within the walls was an important distinction to maintain your respectability. But finding out that your coworker was your schoolgirl crush for five years hadn’t been part of the plan.
Pairing: Hoseok | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Harry Potter AU
Word Count: 13,788
Author’s Note: Took advantage of some Hoseok feelings I’ve been suffering from as of late and decided to pair it with my Harry Potter AUs!!!! Once again, tagging @chokemejimin who has asked to tagged in my HP works!! Hope you like it! 

.

There’s a saying that goes around that often relates to the idea that people, places, or things that were once daunting and terrifying gradually start to become less intimidating with the help of time, growth, maturity—all those things you never believed would happen to you. After all, who wants to welcome the idea of growing old with opened arms?

You remember being seventeen and witnessing what you had believed would be the last sight you would ever get of Hogwarts, the comforting walls that housed seven years of your childhood, seven years worth of secrets, friendships, youth, innocence, and a desperation to chase after something you didn’t quite know about yet. Being as young and naive and indecisive as you were, it would have been difficult to comprehend the idea of returning, if returning to Hogwarts was something you even thought to consider in the first place. It never was.

It’s funny how much you had a tendency to return back to the place that reminded you most of home. Despite the history behind its walls, the war across the campus, Hogwarts remains consistent and peaceful and traditional. Unlike your very first day at eleven years old, you brush in through the doors of Hogwarts with a grace of familiarity. No longer do the tall walls that seem to stretch out to the ceiling terrify you and no longer do the endless corridors frighten you. You’re no longer a student who perhaps did not know any better. You’ve returned as a professor, just a little bit older and just a little bit wiser.

The baggage handle curled around your fingertips feel as if they’re growing heavier and heavier the longer you find yourself making your way through the outside courtyard of the school, towards the castle, trying to make your way to the new quarters you had been gifted with as a new educator of the institute. In spite of the struggle, it’s hard to keep the bounce out of your step, the smile across your features, because although returning back to the rooms of your past is not something you would have elected to spend your career under, it’s a new whole sensation approaching Hogwarts and knowing that you would get to do something and invest your time in something you were always particularly passionate about.

You’re just reaching the front steps of the school, before a voice calls out to you, striking a chord of familiarity in your heart as you let the tone sink into your mind and rummage through the archives of your brain. “Hey, you need some help with that?”

Keep reading

Complicated Hearts.

Request from @bucky-hackneyed:Can you do a Bucky x reader where Bucky is kind of an asshole to reader when she tries to flirt with him and then he tells her he doesn’t like her and she’s all heart broken?? But then Bucky catches feeling and then it fluffy stuff?

Bucky x Reader

Words: 2,563

Warnings: Hurtful remarks, mild language, angst, heartbreak and fluff.

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3

Originally posted by haidaspicciare

“Earth to [y/n]!”

You were supposed to be training with Natasha in the gym of Stark Tower but you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from the hot mess that was currently at the weights station. The redhead waved her hand in front of your face to try and snap you back to reality and after a few moments of doing so she succeeded as you shook our head and turned your gaze back to your friend.

“Gees, you’ve got it bad!”

“What?” You furrowed your brows in confusion having not even realised what it was you had been doing. “I have no idea what you are talking about Nat.”

“Yeah that’s right, feign innocence, but considering I have just been stood here for the past few minutes watching you I know exactly what, or rather who, you were looking at. You are like it every time he is in the gym.”

Could she really blame you though? Bucky Barnes had the stature of a Greek God and that jawline of his….damn it was sharp enough to cut something……

“[y/n] you’re doing it again.”

Now you really couldn’t deny it because you were perfectly aware that both your eyes and your thoughts had once again drifted over to the newest member of the team. How on earth were you supposed to concentrate on your training session with Natasha when such a beautiful sight was proving to be far too much of a distraction?

“I’m sorry but come on! The guy is ridiculously hot…that amount of hotness should be illegal.”

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Do you guys remember the dream that Chris had about Layne? It just totally breaks my heart 😢

Posted on 10/13/2008
The essence of a dream can follow you all day long. Sometimes two or three days. I have had dreams as a little kid that I remember like they were yesterday, though as time goes on these dream are sometimes hard to tell from actual events as they survive in my memory.
I am fascinated with the essence factor of dreams, period. They are as real as the essence felt from the ambience of an actual place, like a house you grew up in. Your favourite bar, or your school. The first Christmas tree you see every year, the smell of it, and especially songs. Some feelings these environments evoke are awful, some magical. All of them completely real.
Real enough that numerous cultures throughout history have believed that the dream world is every bit as important and substantial and a vital part of human life as the conscious state. Some mysticisms actually look at the world of dreams as being the “true and only world” and everything else an illusion. For my money, if you put an ice pick through your hand, I think it will prove to be a pretty fucking good illusion.
Last night I had a dream that has been following me all day like a sick dog. I was in a hotel near the house I grew up in. I was in a cafe that happened to be the lunch court of my elementary school. Various friends from my past were walking up and talking to me. In the middle of this scene walks Layne Staley. He looked much like he did the first time I met him. Shoulder length hair, clean shaved. Clear eyed and looking about 20 years old. I was so happy. Confused a little, but in a dream like this, I just wanted to accept the idea that there was some mistake and he was alive and well. He seemed happy and said was working on some new music project.
I woke up not long after that with the feeling that I had really just talked to him and he was somewhere doing just fine.
My next thought was one that has plagued me for years. Sitting in Kelly Curtis’ living room with about 30 people, all sobbing. We had just come from Andy Wood’s extra weird funeral-wake thing at the Paramount Theatre. It had these new age overtones that didn’t fit Andy’s life at all. There was an amazing film of Andy with Mother Love Bone band mates. All of Andy’s friends and family were there, mixed with a bunch of fans who I didn’t like but knew Andy would have loved. The fans went home. His friends went to Kelly’s.
We were crammed in a smallish living room with people sitting on every available surface. Couch arms, end tables, the floor. I was leaning on the back of one of the couches that face away from the rest of the room and toward the front door. I remember Andy’s girlfriend looking at everyone and saying “This is just like La Bamba” then suddenly I heard slapping footsteps growing louder and louder as they reached the front door and Layne flew in, completely breaking down and crying so deeply that he looked truly frightened and lost. Very child like. He looked up at everyone at once and I had this sudden urge to run over and grab him and give him a big hug and tell him everything was going to be OK. Kelly has always had a way of making everyone feel like everything will turn out great. That the world isn’t ending. That’s why we were at his place. I wanted to be that person for Layne, maybe just because he needed it so bad. I wasn’t. I didn’t get up in front of the room and offer that and I still regret it. No one else did either. I don’t know why.
Years later, at Layne’s funeral, I was angry. I kept hearing the “twice as bright, half as long” speech and the “he was just too special for this world” nonsense that I had heard at so many other funerals for so many other friends that were so young and talented. I’m not sure why I was that angry. Angry at Layne? Angry at all my other friends for leaving me? Angry at the people running around in circles saying “I knew him best” or “I was the only one he really trusted”, angry at all of them for squandering what I thought of as brilliant futures that would make the world feel to me like a place worth living? Or maybe I was just mad at myself because he was dead, and one time I had a chance to pick him up, dust him off and let him know that there was a person who cared about how much pain he was in and I didn’t do it.
If I ever run into him in a dream again, I hope I remember to apologise.
Night all. Sweet dreams.
C

(Archie Andrews x Reader): You’re such a cliche

Summary: Archie and Reader (a cheerleader) develop feels and eventually a relationship, the only problem is that the reader doesn’t want it to get out.

A/N: (apologies for spelling and grammar) This is a different style from what I normally do so I hope you enjoy it :)


 It had all started after an away football game. (Y/N) had been sitting at the front of the bus like she usually did (she claimed she got carsick; she was really just trying to avoid most of the other cheerleaders so she could read in peace) and Archie sat down next to her.

“Is this seat taken?” Archie asked, causing (Y/N) to look up from her book.

“I guess not,” You mumbled, a little annoyed to be distracted since you were just getting wrapped up in the story.

“Sorry, there’s no other seats, otherwise I wouldn’t bother you, you seem pretty pulled into that book.” He explains, looking a bit nervous.

You take pity on him, “That’s okay, I just usually sit up here to take a break from the girls, I love them but sometimes they’re a little too much.” You admit.

Archie nods, “I totally get that, I have the same thing with a lot of the guys on the team, that’s why it helps to have good friends who aren’t only thinking about football.”

You shrug, not wanting to admit that you don’t really have any good friends, just the other cheerleaders.

“So what are you reading?” Archie asked.

And that’s how it all started. The two spent the whole ride back to Riverdale talking about everything from books to music to politics.

After that the two found each other more and more often, they started partnering up in the classes they shared and Archie made it a habit to always sit next to (Y/N) on the bus to and from away games. Any time anyone asked if they were dating they would both scoff and reject the idea, both convinced that the other one didn’t feel the same way.

You were at a party, you hated parties, the music was always too loud, it was too hot, and everyone around you was too drunk. Cheryl was hanging on to you, her arm around your shoulders, “Isn’t she so tacky?” She asked you, her words slurring together.

“Who?” You asked dumbly, realizing you’d zoned out of the conversation.

“Veronica, of course” Cheryl sighed, “God, you’re so stupid sometimes. Anyway, I think she’s probably had work done, I mean…”

You nodded along as Cheryl droned on, not noticing Archie standing nearby watching you.

Eventually you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and carefully pried Cheryl’s arm off of you. When you got up to the bathroom you stared at yourself in the mirror for a long time, wondering how you’d gotten yourself in this situation. After washing your face quickly you opened the door only to stumble into Archie.

“Oh, hey!” You say cheerfully, putting on the facade you’d perfected in recent years.

“Why do you act that way when you’re around the other cheerleaders?” He asked bluntly.

“What way?” You asked, playing dumb, even though you knew exactly what he was getting at.

“It’s like you’re a completely different person when you’re with me, I don’t get it.” He tells you.

“It’s just easier.” You respond, defensively crossing your arms over your chest, “It makes it easier to fit in.”

Archie sighed, “Yeah, you’re a cheerleader, but you’re also so much more than that. Don’t let people like Cheryl dumb you down.”

“I appreciate that Archie, I really do, but if I was myself around these people…I’d probably get kicked off the team.” You reply, “Now if you’ll excuse me,” You add before slipping past him and making your way back to your post next to Cheryl.

The next weekend was an away game. It was a brutal loss and Archie was unusually quiet on the bus ride home because of it.

“Hey, you played great tonight, you know that right?” You said softly.

“Thanks, (Y/N), but I still feel bad, I could have played better,” Archie replied. 

“Hey, I’m sure next weekend will be better,” You say as you gently and hesitantly intertwine your fingers with his own. Your brain tells you not to, that this is a bad idea and you’re slowly becoming everything you hate but another party of you can’t bear that you’re not touching him more.

“(Y/N)…” Archie mutters softly, looking down at your hands and then back up at your face.

“Is this okay?” You ask quietly.

“Yes,” He replies quickly.

You smile softly as you turn to look straight ahead again. 

They held hands the rest of the ride, neither one wanted to be the first one to let go. Once they got back to school and everyone started getting off (Y/N) quickly snatched her hand away before anyone could notice it.

“Can I walk you home?” Archie asked, surprising you. The two of you never spent time together outside of school and stuff for football, especially not alone. 

You smiled and nodded, “Sure.”

As they walked Archie reached for your hand again.

“So what are we?” Archie asked as you walked up to your porch.

“I don’t know,” You replied, turning to face him, “I’m turning into everything I used to make fun of, but I don’t hate it.”

“Well, do you want to date?” Archie asked.

“I think so,” You admitted, “Do you?”

“Of course, ever since I first sat next to you on the bus I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out.” He replied, blushing slightly.

“Then you should pick me up tomorrow night at seven,” You reply as you unlocked your door.

Their first date was at Pops, they were having a good time, talking about their families and how dysfunctional they are when some cheerleaders walked in and made their way over to where they were sitting.

“Oh my god! Are you guys on a date?” One of them asked excitedly.

“No,” You quickly replied, “We’re just hanging out,” You lied quickly and believably.

“Oh, sorry,” She replied awkwardly, “Well…we’ll leave you to it…” She said before the group walked away.

“Sorry about that,” You said, turning to Archie, “They’re just…”

“Why did you say we weren’t on a date?” He asked.

“They-There are these really dumb stereotypes, you know, the whole cheerleader and the football player cliche? I just, I can’t become that.”

“But isn’t that what we are?” 

“No! We’re more than that, we’re more complex, but that’s how those girls will see us, and I just can’t-”

“Do you want to be in a relationship with me?”

“I-yes.” You admit, “But we’re some fantasy straight out of the 1969s.”

“Why is that so bad? What we have is real, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” You reply again, “Archie, I want to be with you, but if we are, we can’t tell anyone, at least not the football team and cheerleading squad.”

“Are you ashamed at the thought of being with me?”

“No, I just wanted what we have to be just between us, it’s too special to taint with everyone else.”

And for two months they did just that, they went on dates, spent time together, did everything that couples do, the only difference was that they didn’t tell anyone one at school, or act in any slightly romantic way when they were around other kids.

Archie had a hard time keeping it from his close friends. Betty, Veronica, Kevin-and even Jughead-sometimes tried to set him up with people, but he just kept avoiding their ideas, claiming that he was too busy with music and football and work to have a girlfriend. None of them really bought it (I mean, it hadn’t stopped him before when he was with Grundy or Valerie) but they had a hard time figuring out why Archie would be so adamant about it. Kevin was the one who first brought up the fact that he was hiding a secret girlfriend but everyone else thought that was highly unlikely, they’d never seen him act more than friendly with anyone, and none of the girls he hung out with stood out more than others.

But, like all secrets, the truth came out eventually.

You and Archie were at Pops one Friday night, enjoying your tradition of splitting a hot fudge malt and a basket of fries when the ice queen herself, Cheryl, walked in.

“Well, well, well, what are you two doing here? Out on a date?” She asks as she saunters over.

“Cheryl, for the last time, we’re not dating, we’re just hanging out.” You reply with an eyeroll as you glance over at her.

“Well, you two do an awful lot of hanging out for two people claiming to just be friends.” She comments, “Every weekend someone finds the two of you here, just the two of you,”

“Cheryl, everyone hangs out here all the time, what are you trying to say?”

“I’m just saying that if you’re not dating Archie, you should give someone else a ride on the ginger stallion.” She replies suggestively as she gives Archie a meaningful glance, “What do you say Archie?”

“I um-” He stalls, glancing at you nervously.

“Oh come on Cheryl, just because Archie doesn’t want to make out with you doesn’t mean he’s dating someone,” You cutting, starting to feel a bit defensive.

“Well, that didn’t stop him last time.”

“What?” You ask, feeling completely thrown for a loop.

“At my family’s maple syrup tapping,” Cheryl replies.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter, that was before we were dating,” You reply before realizing what you just said and claiming your hand over your mouth and glancing at Archie with wide eyes.

“Ha! I knew it!” She shouts triumphantly, “Jesus Christ, you guys made that way harder than it needed to be. I can’t wait to tell everybody, this is so exciting.”

“Great…” You mutter as she walks away, already typing on her phone (presumably texting the group chat the ‘good news’), “Shit,” You mutter as you rub your hands over your face. From across the table Archie reaches over and grabs your hands away and holds them in his own. 

“Hey,” He says softly, “It’s going to be okay, we’ll figure out how to deal with this, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay with this.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” You ask, giving him a loving smile, “I guess now that the cats out of the bag we should just embrace it, you know? I was getting kind of tired of hiding it anyway.”

“Good, because I’ve been wanting you to wear my letter jacket for ages now, and I think Monday would be a great opportunity for you to debut that look.”

“You’re such a cliche.”

“You know you love it”

our last goodbye

yeah i am Very emotional about the thought of robert thinking this is his last night with aaron, join me (if you dare and ooo bring tissues!)




It’s late, there’s boxes everywhere and Robert watches Aaron as he brushes his teeth in the bathroom, toothbrushes are basically the only thing they haven’t boxed away yet. It’s nothing really, in the grand schemes of Amazing Things Aaron Has Done but just the way he delicately strokes his hands across this stupid cape Robert used to parade around in is just … enough. Robert’s heart practically leaps out of his chest and won’t stop aching as he feels the foam of toothpaste become too acidic for his mouth to bare. So he spits out, takes his eyes off away from Aaron just for a second and he chastises himself for doing so. 


Not long now you idiot, don’t turn away from him.


He knows he can’t, he knows he has to hold onto every second of this, every single second because, it’s not like he’s getting to have another with Aaron is it? 


Aaron finally looks up and Robert feels something settle in his chest, it’s maddening, how dizzy just one look from Aaron makes him. 


“Ya want to go bed now?” Aaron says, itches the side of his face and then looks at Robert standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Ya alright, ya seem a bit … off.” He can’t place it, hasn’t been able to since Robert suggested they sacked getting hammered in their new home for a chat


Robert knew he wasn’t good at feelings and talking, didn’t understand the urgency, didn’t want to more importantly.


Robert nods his head, pulls a face which is meant to tell Aaron he’s tired and just that. Aaron stands, pats at his jeans and then rubs a hand down his thigh, flickers of dust circle the air and then he smiles. “Well good looking at all that of yours.” He says, head towards the boxes Diane showed him. “Didn’t realise you had always been a geek.“ 


Robert tries to laugh, so desperately but he just can’t do it right. It comes out forced, like the laugh he gives to the snobby client who he just wants a deal from. It’s hollow, filled with nothing and he hates how Aaron seems to notice just a little, the flicker in his eyes gives the game away. Why is it so easy for Aaron to buckle, to let his feeling show? Sometimes Robert wants to hate him for it, wants to really hate him but of course he fails at that too. He can’t blame Aaron for his own ability to lie and lie and lie and become numb to his own actions, and their consequences. 


"Right well uh, mind the boxes yeah?” Aaron says as he passes, hands firmly gripping Robert’s upper arms and squeezing as if he’s trying to find balance in Robert as he goes by him. How ironic, Robert thinks, considering he’s about to throw everything Aaron knows completely off balance, he’s going to ruin it all.


Keep reading

Breathtaking in Black (Part 2)

Part 1

A/N: This is part two of my short fic “Breathtaking in Black”.  Since it was their birthday just the other day, part two of this Marichat fic is dedicated to the extremely wonderful @starkid-starkat .  They are one of my closest internet friends that I have had the pleasure of speaking to thanks to tumblr.  I really hope you enjoy it Sage :)  Happy Belated Birthday!!!!

P.S. If reactions are good there will be more parts yet to come :).  I was going to just skip to the dance scene, but then I realized I didn’t want to skip over Marinette’s constant freaking out internally while attempting to go to school and act normal.  Plus, I couldn’t miss an opportunity to show Adrien’s point of view since he is the only one who knows why she is so flustered in class.  Buckle up guys, gals and non-binary pals.  This is gonna be quite a ride!

______________________________________________________________

Marinette had gotten almost no sleep after Chat left her room late last night.  She had lied awake for hours, but couldn’t get the sound of his voice as he asked her to make him one final promise out of her head. His eyes had been full of so much desire and admiration when they had made contact with hers. The rasp in his voice made her heart leap up into her throat. She could still vividly remember the way his touch felt as he gently caressed her hand and pressed his forehead against hers. She was in deep trouble.

“Come on Marinette! I know you’re tired, but you have to go to school,” Tikki insisted as she hovered inches from her chosen’s face. “This is why I told you to be careful about how much you let Chat into your civilian life! Not only did he give away a huge part of his identity to you, but you also promised to let him dance with you while both in civilian form!” Marinette blinked at her Kwami. She could barely hear Tikki’s little rant as she tried to pull herself together and collect her thoughts.

A dance. All she had promised him was a single dance. However, Marinette knew this was all about a lot more than a simple dance with her partner. This was a school sponsored event. He promised her he would be there. He had basically confessed to being one of her fellow classmates. Her head was filled with so many unanswered questions. Had they had classes together? Had they ever spoken while both in civilian form?

Most importantly who was he? She hated being in the dark.

Marinette took in a deep breath and let it out as she sat up and threw her covers off. She swiveled her legs around and let her feet touch the wooden floor.

She pressed her feet into the floor as she stood slowly and began to walk down the steps into the lower part of her room. “Sorry Tikki,” she finally mumbled as she walked towards her dresser. “I know I should have been more careful, but what’s done is done.” She sat down in her chair and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked absolutely awful. Bags had formed under her eyes. Loose strands of hair were tossed in several directions. She sighed as she turned her face slightly to examine it from different angles.

How could she have let this happen? She had let herself get carried away and that was so unlike her. More memories of the night before flooded her mind as stared at her own reflection.  His eyes, voice and gentle touch had all left her speechless. He had never had this affect on her before, so why? Why was last night so different?

Was…was she falling for him?

She shook her head lightly in an attempt to clear the thought out of her head. She couldn’t possibly be falling for Chat Noir. Marinette was so sure that the only blonde haired classmate she could ever have eyes for was Adrien. Sweet, kind Adrien. She glanced over to the framed picture of him she kept on her dresser at all times.

A new sense of determination filled her body as she turned back to face herself in the mirror. “Nothing a little makeup and a hair brush can’t fix. Right Tikki?” Tikki smiled at Marinette’s new found courage. The teen brushed her hair into her two regular pigtails and managed to cover up the dark spots under her eyes. Chat Noir may have won last night’s little game, but Marinette was not giving up just yet. This was one mind game she simply refused to let him win.  He was going to pay for making her lose precious hours of sleep and for making her doubt her feelings for Adrien like that.

She was going to school, and she was going to find him.

* * * * * *

Adrien had the best night’s sleep he’d had in months. How could he not be at peace? Marinette had made a dress completely inspired by his superhero alter ego. She had tried it on just to show it to him and it looked incredibly gorgeous on her.

All he wanted to do at first was let Marinette know how stunning her work truly was. He hadn’t meant to get such a reaction out of her. The way her brilliant blush appeared to light up the whole room. The way she laced her fingers together with his when he reached out to touch her hand. He couldn’t help himself. He needed to see her blush that way again. He wanted to leave her speechless one more time. Mostly, he wanted to see her twirl in that dress again. And so, he had asked her to dance. It seemed pretty logical to him. To Plagg however, it sounded utterly ridiculous.

“A dance? What on Earth were you thinking? How could you possibly think this would be a good idea?” Plagg was flying back and forth in Adrien’s room as if he were pacing. Adrien didn’t regret his actions one bit and continued to get ready for school as if a literal god wasn’t scolding him. “So what is your plan exactly here Agreste? You gonna just walk up to her at the dance and say ‘Oh hey Marinette, it’s me Chat Noir! Kiss me!’” Adrien rolled his eyes. Of course he had realized that dancing with Marinette at the Halloween ball would most likely mean revealing his identity to her, but frankly he didn’t really care. He knew Marinette well enough to know that she was trustworthy. He was confident that she wouldn’t tell anyone his little secret.  To him, all that mattered was seeing her dance in that dress.

He was confused about one thing though. Ladybug. He knew he still had feelings for his partner. How could he not? She was beautiful, brave, confident and smart. But the one thing she wasn’t was in love with him. He knew she didn’t return his feelings, and that was okay. Adrien had come to terms with this fact a while ago and had been slowly falling for Marinette ever since. How could he not fall for her after all? Marinette was extremely talented, passionate, sweet and adorable. He knew it was wrong for him to pursue her while he still had feelings for his lady, but one simple little dance couldn’t possibly hurt.

“Plagg, nothing you say is going to change my mind. You should have seen the way she looked at me last night. She never looks at me like that in school.” Marinette had always seemed really uncomfortable around him in school and it bothered him a lot. She often kept her distance from him. Whenever they did interact, she always seemed to mumble her sentences and refused to make eye contact with him. Maybe that was the reason he visited her room so often. When he was chat, she was completely comfortable and confident around him. She didn’t mumble or stutter at all. In fact, she often made witty remarks or even showed signs of sass when speaking to his other half. He hoped that, if she learned the two were actually one person, she would be more comfortable around Adrien.

“What about ladybug?” Plagg pried as Adrien continued to walk around his room getting ready for school. The teen pulled his jeans up over his hips and looked up to meet his kwami’s intense glare.

“What about her Plagg? Do I still have feelings for her? Of course I do, but it’s pretty obvious that she doesn’t feel the same way about me and I want her to be with someone who makes her happy,” he stated as he buttoned his pants and began to remove the shirt he had slept in that night. “Besides, all I asked for was a dance. It’s not like I asked for Marinette’s hand in marriage.”

“No that’s not what I meant.” Plagg snapped harshly. Adrien dropped his shirt to the floor and looked up at Plagg in surprise. The kwami wasn’t normally one to raise his voice. “What I meant was,” he said at a volume Adrien was more used to. “Don’t you think it’s wrong for you to give away your identity to one of your classmates while Ladybug still has no idea who you are?”

Adrien sighed. Plagg was right for once. It would be wrong of him to go giving his identity to a girl he was only beginning to become close with without telling his partner as well. At the end of the day, ladybug was truly one of his best friends. He trusted her with his life.

“Alright then it’s decided,” he stated with a nod and a brilliant smile.

“You’ve realized this is ridiculous and decided not to tell her?” Plagg asked hopefully.

“Nope!” Adrien said as he looked up to flash a wide grin back at his little companion. “I’ve decided that, after I reveal myself to Marinette, I will tell ladybug everything as well.”

Plagg wanted to lose it and yell at his chosen so badly in that moment. However, he knew that smile all too well. Nothing that he said would ever change Adrien’s mind now. Whether he liked it or not, Plagg knew this was going to happen.

“Alright kid looks like you win this argument. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Adrien’s smile appeared to double in size at Plagg’s cease fire. There wasn’t a single doubt in Adrien’s mind when it came to his complete trust and faith in the two most important girls in his life. All he wanted was for Marinette to be comfortable around him. He wanted her to be able to have a regular conversation with his civilian form. He wanted her to see him as a friend she could be herself around. Was that really such a bad idea? Of course not. He parted his hair and combed his bangs out of his face.

He was going to school, and he was going to talk to her.

* * * * * *

The odds of Marinette showing up to school on time hadn’t been very good ever since she first put the earrings in. The odds of her arriving with enough time to visit her locker before class? Unheard of. And yet, something even more unlikely happened when Marinette arrived at school that morning. Not only did she have time to go get her books from her locker, but she also looked up to see a tiny green envelope taped to her locker door. She reached out and gently pulled the envelope off of her locker door before turning it over in her hands. On the back of the envelope, in cursive gold writing, was the word “Princess”.

The world seemed to stand still as Marinette read the word over and over in her head. Only one person had ever called her princess. Not only was Chat Noir a student at her school, but he had come to school early and left her a note. Chat knew which locker was hers. Marinette stared at the envelope for what felt like a year before a familiar voice finally moved her from her trance.

“Hey Mari!” Alya yelled from the other end of the hall. Marinette looked up to see her best friend running towards her. “You’re actually on time today” the brunette exclaimed as Marinette quickly stuffed the envelope into her back pocket and flashed a casual smile at her friend.

“I know right?” Marinette joked. “What are the odds?” Alya threw her arms around Marinette in a friendly hug which Mari quickly returned. The two pulled away and Alya gave Marinette a very questioning expression.

“Did you really think I didn’t see you stuff an envelope in your pocket girl? Are you hiding something?” Alya reached around to grab the letter out of Marinette’s back pocket, but Marinette spun around just in time to block her hand.

“It’s just some money Papa gave me for lunch today,” she lied. “If you keep messing around, we’ll both end up late to class this time.” Alya rolled her eyes and gave in. She knew Marinette was right and she didn’t feel like making up an excuse for the both of them. Marinette turned to grab a few books out of her locker and the two girls hurried off towards class.

They entered the classroom together just a minute before the final bell sounded. They quickly went to their seats behind Adrien and Nino and Marinette began spreading her books out on the desk in front of her. She could feel the note in her pocket. ‘What could it possibly say?’ she silently contemplated as she began aimlessly doodling on her notebook.

A friendly voice broke through her thoughts. “Good morning Marinette. Your hair looks really cute today.” Marinette was so lost in thought that she had only barely processed the sentence. Without thinking, she responded to the familiar voice without even a hint of hesitation.

“Goodmorning Adrien, you look cute today too.”

Marinette dropped her pencil flat on the desk in shock. She slowly looked up to see a blushing Adrien staring at her with his jaw hanging slightly open. Alya had almost stopped breathing and Nino had even taken his headphones off in anticipation of Adrien’s response to Marinette’s sudden confidence.

“Thank you!” he exclaimed with the brilliant smile she had fallen in love with years ago.

Marinette managed to stutter a quiet “you’re w-welcome,” before Adrien turned his head to greet Alya and Nino. Chat Noir playing with her brain was either going to do wonders for her relationship with Adrien or land her in the nut house. As she listened to her friends talk, Marinette quietly reached into her pocket to pull out the green envelope. She turned it over in her hands to read the gold lettering once again before bending over to place it inside her backpack. Marinette zipped it shut and sat up to begin doodling in her notebook once more. Little did she know that Adrien had seen her hide the note out of the corner of his eye and his heart was doing silent somersaults in his chest. Marinette had received his note. Marinette was so distracted by the note that she had dared to tell him he looked cute without a single flaw in her speech. These next three days were definitely going to be interesting to say the least.        

anonymous asked:

what are some really important pointers you have for people who want to make animatics?

this is probably gonna be a bit long so just a heads up i guess?? also please note im not a student for anything in art and am not a professional i’m just giving out my opinions on this and things based on my own experience.

  • do thumbnailing 

you don’t always have to start it with the actual frame and the drawing for thumbnailing doesn’t have to be good. this is just to let you have a feel of what you want for the final frame. it also doesn’t have to be digital you can just doodle it in some paper you found lying about. this is also good for parts of your animatics where there’s lots of movement(like dancing!) 

thumbnailing is also good for parts where you have multiple ideas! doodle all your possible ideas and see which one is best for that scene

  • perspective/angled shots

these are super cool and can help with the atmosphere of the scene! for example:

they also just look really nice and interesting and fun

  • landscapes and backgrounds

you can’t always have just a bunch of people gathered around all in one frame, you gotta show the setting of the whole thing

this also allows for your characters to move around more! don’t always make them flat like this though(this doesn’t mean you can’t do this, just don’t do it all the time)

grab a ruler or if you don’t have one like me, zoom out completely and try to make straight lines(they don’t rlly have to be perfectly straight though! but don’t make them too slanted either)

and if you have sai, free deform it and set the perspective to 100% and then just mess around with it!

also remember to add buildings/furniture/etc if needed!!

  • do dynamic poses

these help the facial expressions of the character! a lot of people seem to just concentrate on just the face for emotion but body language is also important!

you can throw in some perspective into this as well!

  • make a LOT of frames

as mentioned above, movement is very exciting!! and you can show movement with those frames. it doesn’t even have to be a lot of movement like one second they were there and now they’re in an entirely different spot, subtle movement is also very good! 

try not to reuse the same frame too much! it might end up looking very awkward 

also try not to just erase and add things to the body of a character as if it were some kind of paper doll stuck to a wall like this:

it’ll end up looking very stiff and awkward. instead, just redraw the character completely! make them move around a bit

you don’t always have to make things super clean

you don’t have to do clean lineart, just doodle a frame and make it easy to read for everyone on what’s happening. especially because drawing hundreds of frames is already so time consuming and not to mention stressful. do yourself a favor and not tire yourself out more than you should.

that’s kind of all the pointers i have. hope this helps!!!

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™ .

4

Chainmail myths and the foibles of “historical testing”,

Chainmail armor is perhaps the most misunderstood type of armor in history, often viewed by people who don’t know much about ancient or medieval weapons as a low quality lesser form of armor. Unfortunately nothing could be further from the truth, and the reputation of chainmail has suffered as a result. Typically when one thinks of chainmail one thinks of Europe and the Middle Ages. In fact, chainmail has been used all over the world by many cultures and dates to ancient times, including civilizations such as the Ancient Celts (who possibly invented mail), Ancient Rome,Medieval Europe, the Middle East, North Africa, India, Southeast Asia, China, and Japan.  Chainmail was even used by warriors in remote areas well into the 19th and early 20th century. Today chainmail is still in use, used by butchers and meatpackers to protect from accidental cuts, used in stab resistant vests employed by law enforcement, and even used by divers to protect against shark bites.

There are many reasons why chainmail is looked down upon by modern peoples uneducated on the effectiveness of ancient or medieval armor.  Contributors include movies and video games.  One common source which I feel contributes the most to the chainmail myth is modern “historical testing” of chainmail armor, often on TV shows such as on the History Channel, Discovery Channel, or the many Youtube videos on the subject.  Typically what occurs in this testing is that a so called historian or expert will test a piece of replica chainmail against replica weapons.  To the amazement of the viewer, the mail is sliced to smithereens with a sword, skewered like a kabob with spears, and pierced to death with arrows.  To the uneducated viewer, it would seem that chainmail was a completely useless type of armor, and even the most reputable of sources makes similar claims, that chainmail was deficient and was not effective for protection.  I can think of no better example than this clip from a History Channel show, the testing of which begins around 2:50.


There is a problem with the idea that chainmail was ineffective, and even basic reasoning and logic should expose that problem.  After all, if chainmail was so ineffective, why did anyone bother to wear it into combat? Why did knights, nobles, and soldiers spend fortunes on chainmail when it was almost useless?  Why would cultures across the world spanning thousands of years bother using it if it didn’t do its job of offering bodily protection?

The truth of the matter is that in reality, chainmail was exceedingly effective for its purpose, and in the cultures that it was used, in the time periods it was used, it was often among the best if not the very best option available. A warrior who went into battle wearing mail had a much greater advantage over opponents with lesser armor or no armor at all. So why do these “historical tests” often show it as being ineffective? First, it must be known that there are two basic types of historical chainmail, butted and riveted. There is a third type, welded mail, but this is mostly a modern creation that wasn’t used in history. Butted chainmail is a constructed out of wire bent into rings with the ends touching. The wire ends are abutting hence the name “butted” mail. There’s nothing fastening the two ends together, thus butted mail tends to be very weak and easy to damage.

The other common type is riveted chainmail. Riveted mail consists of metal rings that are fastened together with a metal pin or rivet.  As a result, riveted mail is much stronger than butted mail, in fact it’s typically 10 to 15 times stronger. Generally speaking riveted mail also tends to have a denser weave using better quality materials.

Butted chainmail really only has one purpose; as costume armor.  It is not meant to be used as real protective armor, and there are only a few examples throughout history of butted mail being used in combat.  Soldiers, knights, and warriors throughout history almost always used riveted mail due to its strength.  I cannot stress this point enough, butted mail is not real armor.  It is cheap costume armor produced for collecting, LARPing, cosplay, trick or treating, or perhaps ceremonial purposes.  It is not made to protect someone in combat. I should also note that in combat a suit of mail was typically not worn alone, but often worn with a padded jacket such as a gambeson. This not only added extra protection, but prevented chaffing and discomfort.

So in historical tests performed on TV or Youtube, what type of armor is most typically used? Well, whether its ignorance or because the producer bought a cheap piece of armor in order to save a few bucks, more likely than not butted mail will be used.  Thus why such experiments often have terrible results.

Unfortunately there are few tests using actual chainmail armor with riveted links.  However those few that do exist have a totally different story to tell and show just how effective chainmail really is.

In this video a person actually wears a suit of riveted mail while his friend stabs him with a knife.

I would suggest checking out some youtube channels such as skallagrim, the metatron, scholagladiatora, ThegnThrand, knyghterrynt, and shadiversity.  They do a good job dispelling the many myths about ancient and medieval weapons and armor, as well as giving loads of quality historical information.

The 2 Elements of an ORIGINAL STORY IDEA

If you’ve been doing this writing thing for more than one day, you’ve likely experienced the following worry: 

“What if my story idea ISN’T ORIGINAL?”

And if my experience is any indication, things spiraled downwards from there: “What if it’s cliche? What if there’s nothing new here?! It IS cliche. It ISN’T original. I’m a failure! ALL MY WRITING NEEDS TO BURN!”

Calm yourself. There’s a way to make sure that your story concept is unique.  

First, what IS a story concept? It’s the initial idea that made you want to write the thing. It’s the “What If” question that starts everything off. Later, it will be the promise that hooks the reader or audience, and makes them want to experience the story. 

So for example: What if Cinderella was a cyborg? What if a rat wanted to be a french chef? What if a fish had to venture across the ocean to find his son who’s captive in a dentist’s office aquarium?   

All great concepts. All of which seem to be comprised of two elements: something that we already know about, a set up that establishes expectations, and then something contrasting and surprising, which creates irony or surprise.  
So the first element of a successful story concept is FAMILIARITY. 

Establishing expectations? Something we already know about? Familiarity?! That sounds like the definition of UNorginal. 

Hear me out. 

What do readers do when foraging for a new novel at the bookstore? Certain readers gravitate to certain shelves. Some go to mysteries, some to crime, a whole lot to romance, and the rest to the other genres that are too numerous to list.

 Why is this? Because genres give them a pretty good idea about what they’re going to get. Readers already know the conventions of the genre. They’ve already put in the work of learning, accepting, and enjoying these conventions. 

Genres give both reader and writer something to go on right away. For the reader, genres are expectations for story events, setting, character, and more, which are automatically enjoyable to them. For a writer, it’s a set of expectations which can be flipped to create something remarkable and unique.  

It’s like telling a joke. Without a setup, there can’t be a punchline. 

The genres are the setup, the individual twist the author puts on that genre is the punchline. Or in other words, readers truly do want the same thing –only different.  

To illustrate this, let’s take a look at one of the most successful stories of all time.

With space ships, interplanetary travel, sentient robots, and aliens running amok, Star Wars LOOKS to be the kind of story that requires the audience to expend lots of mental energy to comprehend and believe. At first glance, it seems that imaginations are going to have to stretch a great deal, and there won’t be anything familiar to ground us – this SEEMS like an uncomfortably new, unwelcoming world. But I doubt if anyone has ever felt uncomfortable or unwelcome while watching Star Wars. And the reason for this can be summed up with one ellipsis-ended sentence:

Suddenly, all is clear. This isn’t the hard-to-imagine future, this is the PAST. We’re not being asked to imagine and believe a totally new world; we’re being taken to the realm of “far, far away”, a place we’ve known since childhood. Isn’t “a long time ago” just another way of saying “once upon a time”? Yes, it is, so we know where we are now. We are in a fairy tale, a myth.  

The familiarity of fairy tales sets us at ease and sets our expectations in place. Expectations which Star Wars meets with flying colors: A farmboy who must become a knight. A princess imploring for aide. A mystical wise-old-man mentor. Sword fights between good and evil. A magic that operates like religion. A dark lord and a dark side. Star Wars was built upon something we already know, something timeless, something we’ve always enjoyed. 

And once those well-known expectations were set, Star Wars was free to add the unexpected and create one of those most memorable story worlds ever.
Think of a story you love, and you’ll probably be able to identify the something-already-known aspect of it.  

How about Harry Potter? 

When we hear “boarding school”, mental images and probabilities are instantly conjured in our minds. We picture classrooms, dormitories, a campus with very old buildings, kids in uniforms, a giant place for meals, living through a schoolyear with a bunch of kids your age, etc. Even if we don’t know much about boarding school, we all know what regular school is like (even us homeschoolers over here *waves*) and our expectations for that are nearly identical from person to person.  

So what does this prove?

It proves that one half of your story’s concept must be grounded in something we already know, and know well. These are the expectations you are going to establish for your reader, before the second element of your concept upends everything and creates something wholly unique. 

You need FAMILIARITY. You need to ground your concept in something WELL-KNOWN. Only then will you be able to create something ORIGINAL. 

Where can familiarity be found?  

1. Genre Conventions 

2. Occupations 

3. Well-known stories  

The possibilities are not limited to these categories, of course. Familiar subjects can be found within many other areas. However, Familiar elements seem to share certain qualities … 

Provides a rough timeline

⦁ Conjures imagery

⦁ Sets expectations for events, characters, opposition, etc

⦁ Has natural potential for conflict 

⦁ Serves as a goal-oriented backdrop for the plot

To see how this works, let’s look at Harry Potter again: 

Familiarity: Going to boarding school. (An occupation)

Timeline: A school year (which Voldy always lets Harry complete before trying to kill him again, bless him.)

Story Expectations: When we hear “school”, we know what we’re going to get.

Imagery: Boarding school conjures tons of possibilities. 

Conflict Potential: It’s a thousand kids living in one castle with a handful of adults – there’s going to be conflict. 

Goal-Oriented: School is inherently goal directed. You want to graduate. And in the case of boarding school, you want to win the house cup. 

But of course, this familiar environment is only HALF of the concept for Harry Potter. The other half, of course, is WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY. Which brings us to the 2nd element of a successful story concept, which will be the subject of the next post.

anonymous asked:

I'm going through a real rough patch and if you want to write something cheerful you have no idea how grateful I'd be.

Flash sidled up to Superman on one of the Watchtower’s mezzanines, leaning against a rail. They looked at each other sidelong, then away.

“Wanna hear my new time?” Flash asked sideways, swaying as he alternated which foot held his weight, hands on his hips.

“There’s no way you beat my time,” Superman muttered, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were in the other direction, and both men went silent as the Lanterns walked too close. Superman and Flash gave them a nod of acknowledgment, then waited for them to be at a safe distance.

“Nine seconds.”

“What!” Superman dropped his arms, whipped his head around to where Flash was grinning and bouncing on his heels. “No way.”

Flat,” Flash said.

“There’s no way.”

“Check my heartbeat if you don’t believe me,” Flash said, tapping his insignia with his thumb. Then he frowned. “Actually, don’t, I’m pretty excited about this so my pulse is probably crazy.”

His heart always sounded like an angry hummingbird trapped between his lungs, but Barry was also a notoriously terrible liar, so it wasn’t as relevant as it could have been.

Dangit,” Superman said, crossing his arms again. He leaned back to scope out the area around them. No one seemed to be paying them much mind. “What time?”

“Eleven on a Saturday,” Flash said, looking even more smug. “You know I don’t mess around.”

“Tch!” Superman made an irritated sound, licking his canines. Then he snapped his fingers. “You forgot about–”

“Nnnope,” Flash interrupted. “I’m including the new ones in that, that’s the whole reason we had to reset our times, otherwise I’d still be at seven-point-four.”

Tch.” Superman drummed his fingers against his bicep. “Nine seconds,” he repeated, torn between irritation and awe.

“You know what that means,” Flash said, waggling his eyebrows.

Superman sighed. “Alright, where are we going?”

“I want soup.”

“Uh-huh.” Superman waited. Flash was waiting for him to ask. Superman was not going to give him the satisfaction.

“… in Saigon.”

“You’ve been watching Bourdain again,” Superman accused.

“It looked like really good soup!” Flash said, defensive.

“Fine,” Superman said, “but I am going to beat your time, and when I do–”

“Beat what, now?” Wonder Woman asked, having managed to approach them while they were distracted by negotiations.

“Nothing!” Flash and Superman said at once.

“We were just talking,” Superman said.

“About stuff,” Flash added unnecessarily. “Private, personal, man stuff.”

Wonder Woman’s eyebrows shot up. She was close enough for her lariat to hum on her hip. She looked Flash over. Flash started to turn red.

“Okay bye!” Flash said, and he was gone in a streak of red.

“Superman?” Wonder Woman asked.

“I should, uh. Hal…”

He wasn’t actually making any definitive statements, just stringing words together, and yet somehow it still managed to ring false. She watched him go, putting her hands on her hips.

She could practically sense it when Batman came up beside her, even quiet as he was.

“Do you want to know what they were talking about.”

“Do you know?” she wondered. He said nothing, so she turned to look at his face. It was as expressionless as ever, but she got the impression that he did not consider the question worthy of dignifying with a response.

He was Batman. He would never be so rude as to say ‘of course’ – but of course he knew.

“I wouldn’t want to invade his privacy,” Wonder Woman said cautiously.

“He’d tell you if you really asked,” Batman said. “They just like feeling like they have a special thing.”

“Oh.”

“Flash, especially.”

“I see.” She tapped on her lower lip as she watched Superman talk to one of the Green Lanterns. “So what’s the special thing?”

“Pick me up in the plane on Saturday and I can show you.”

She froze. Slowly, she turned to look at him. As always, being able to see him helped not at all. “Like a date?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “More like a stakeout.”

“That could be like a date.” She was mostly saying it to tease him. Sometimes if she did it right, he turned pink and had to find a shadow to hide in.

“It’s usually not.”

“Why not?”

“I’m usually with the kids.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean–”

“It’s fine.”

She put her hand out to rest on his shoulder. “I would never imply–”

“I know.”

She took her hand back. “I’ll behave,” she assured him.

“You don’t have to,” he said, and she grinned.

“I’ll pick you up at ten,” she said, and she gave him an exaggerated wink as she walked away.

“It’s a date,” he murmured.


Why,” Wonder Woman asked, “are we in Florida?”

Batman was sitting beside her, and the plane was in a low hover. “Because as far as anyone can tell, this is the single biggest and busiest Walmart in the world.”

“I don’t think that explains as much as you think it does,” she said.

Batman held up a phone. A clock took up most of the screen. 10:59. “Watch,” he said, and he pointed out to the parking lot, vast and terrifying and teeming with people. She watched, and she had no idea how she was supposed to see anything in the crowd.

Finally, she spotted it. The motion too quick to be anything mortal. Would anyone on the ground notice anything more than a strong breeze?

“Oh! It’s the–” She snapped her fingers, couldn’t remember the word.

“Carts,” Batman supplied.

“Yes!”

In almost no time at all, every cart in the parking lot had been returned to one of the designated corrals. Batman pointed to something that he must have been using technology in his mask to see, because otherwise his eyes should not have been good enough. Wonder Woman was much better equipped to see Superman, standing beneath a tree and checking a stopwatch and scowling. He did some kind of motion with his arms and one leg that suggested he’d have thrown his hat to the ground, if he’d been wearing one.

“They introduced new carts,” Batman explained. “They don’t fit with the other ones, so it slows them down. Ruined their whole system.”

“They had a system?” she asked, giggling.

“No, here,” he said, tapping her arm to point again. “This is the best part. He’s frustrated.”

That’s the best part?”

“Watch what he does.”

She watched. Superman was gone again, more impossible-to-follow motion through the crowd. Things were moving. Large things.

“He’s fixing the cars!” she said, clapping her hands together.

“He’s fixing bad parking jobs,” Batman confirmed. “Because he’s mad.” There was a brief crooked curve to his mouth.

“He moved that one to a different space!”

“Illegally parked in a handicapped spot.”

“How fun.” Wonder Woman watched the people wandering through the lot, wondered how many of them had noticed what was happening and how many had disregarded it as nothing worth noticing. “Flash is the winner of this contest, then?”

“Consistently.”

“Is there a prize?”

“Clark buys him lunch. Usually somewhere he saw on a food show, since he can’t normally do that.”

“Why not?”

“Hm?”

“Barry can run anywhere, can’t he?” she asked. “I see no reason he couldn’t run to these places on his own.”

“He doesn’t like being alone in foreign countries,” Batman explained. “It makes him anxious.”

“Oh.” She returned her gaze to the parking lot. “How nice, then, that it all works out.” She frowned. “Is this weird?” she asked. “Spying on our friends like this.”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask.”

“Do you do this often?” she wondered. “Watch people have fun without you?”

“Define 'often’.”

Wonder Woman held up a finger in warning. “Zatanna taught me a trick.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“She says that if you ask me to define the parameters, it means the answer is bad.”

Before he could respond, there was a thump.

Superman was standing on the nose of the invisible jet.

He tapped a knuckle on the glass, until Diana opened the hatch. “Hello!” she said cheerfully.

“What are you two doing here?” Clark asked.

“We’re on a date!” Diana said.

“We’re not on a date,” Batman said.

“If you’re not on a date, can you give me a ride?”

“You’re out of our way,” Batman said.

“Nah, just drop me off in Gotham,” Clark said, slipping inside the plane, awkwardly floating between the two front seats into the back.

“You don’t even need a ride,” Bruce said, having to fit himself as far as possible into the edge of his seat so that Clark would have room to get by. “You can fly.”

“Yeah, and you can walk, but I don’t see you giving up the Batmobile.” Clark made himself comfortable in the back seat as Diana closed up the plane. “I’m craving Dimitri’s.”

“You’re too sober for Dimitri’s,” Bruce said.

“I’m always sober. You’re lucky I can tell this wasn’t a real date, or I would be really creeped out by the whole spying on me thing.”

“Don’t tell Barry we know about your special thing,” Diana said, pulling the plane out of its hover to ascend. “I don’t want to ruin it for him.”

“I won’t,” Clark assured her. “Hey, you know where we should go while we’re here?”

“No,” said Bruce.

“Where?” asked Diana.

“No,” said Bruce.

“Disney World!”

“No.”

Diana gasped.

“No.”

Clark put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You can’t have come all the way to Florida just to see me,” he coaxed.

“I’m banned from Walmart, strongly discouraged from visiting Disney parks, and my parents are dead. I have no other reason to visit Florida.”

fake dating! zimbits

It was only by a stroke of luck that Jack happened to look at his phone just as he exits the lecture hall. The group chat was blowing up – the group chat was always blowing up these days – but the lack of all-caps or exclamation marks caught his attention right away.

Eric Bittle: Guys, I wouldn’t ask this of y’all if I really didn’t need this, but I have to ask a HUGE favor of one of you.

Shitty Knight: brah are you dying

Justin Oluransi: You can have my kidney, Bits.

Adam Birkholtz: u aren’t gonna save that for me just in CASE, JUSTIN?

Larissa Duan: shit, bitty, r u ok

Eric Bittle: Um, yeah, mostly, I just…..need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend.

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5

No Pain, No Gain” 

Based on a Miraculous musing that I shared last year (that I can’t seem to find on my main blog) about Master Fu taking Nino under his wing to become the next holder of the Turtle Miraculous and awesomely enough, I’m not the only miraculer who shares this thought. The very first time I saw Master Fu, I immediately thought of Mr. Miyagi cause you have to admit, the resemblance is definitely there and since then I’ve been itching and hoping that the series would do a Karate Kid inspired episode where Nino comes to Master Fu for help.

Like maybe there’s this new schoolyard bully with the hots for Alya who starts targeting Nino specifically due to his relationship with and somewhat own romantic interest in our foxy gal; constantly challenging him to foolish fights for Alya’s love. Being the nonchalant character he is, Nino dismisses the bully’s initial advances at harrying as he wasn’t the type of guy to want to fight anyone.  

And in similar Karate Kid type of fashion, Master Fu firstly meets Nino after he saves him from being pummelled by said bully and his comrades when they suddenly cornered him after school. Following that event, Nino is forced to fight back against said bully; seeking out Fu for help, practically begging him to teach him how to fight; a request which Fu surprisingly accepts.

This is how I imagined Fu’s first encounter with Nino to be like. And after helping him the first time, Master Fu starts to acknowledge potential in Nino—a potential which inspires him to start training him to be his successor. I imagine that at first Wayzz wouldn’t be too keen with the idea of Nino one day replacing Master Fu as his new master cause I figured that, unlike Plagg, Tikki and possibly the other kwamis, Wayzz is the one who’s been with his original holder the longest; considering that Fu is over 100 years old. While the others had had to change holders over the years, Wayzz has been with Fu since the day one and is very much loyal to him.

But ultimately I imagine once he sees Nino’s good qualities, Wayzz will begin to warm up to the young lad and actually starts to care for his well being; seeing a lot of the qualities in Nino that he did in Master Fu that made him love him as his master. Plus I think this kind of scenario could be great for Nino’s own character development as a teacher-mentor relationship with Master Fu can certainly help mould him into a stronger individual and hero. Not to mention that it’ll be really touching to see Master Fu have a sort of father-son/grandfather-grandchild/close family oriented relationship with at least one of our young heroes and I think Nino would be the perfect candidate to bring out that side of him. We don’t know if Fu used to have any kids of his own. I doubt he ever did given his duty as Miraculous holder and Ancient Guardian (and even if hid have some, he probably outgrew them since he’s practically immortal). So yeah, I’d love to see that kind of bond with Fu, Nino and Wayzz in the series, if possible.  

Do I think Master Fu will choose Nino as his successor for the Turtle Miraculous? Indeed I do.

However, do I think he’ll just hand it to him on a silver platter like he did with Adrien and Marinette? HA! Hell no! I think Master Fu will go full Mr. Miyagi on Nino and make him work for his miraculous, putting him through a rigorous training regimen to build his strength and test his worth. Plus it’ll be good for comical moments when Fu unintentionally pushes poor Nino too far and has to be scolded by Wayzz for getting too excited and overdoing things with his student. Poor Turtle Sensei just wants to see his Turtle Kouhai succeed XD

Would love to see this become canon but…for now these are all just headcanons of mine. In the meantime, a squiggle meister can dream…and draw, am I right? Alrighty I’ve rambled enough on this. As always, I hope everyone enjoys this week’s newest ML squiggle art and I hope you also enjoyed my Miraculous musing (granted you actually read all of that). Feel free to share yours over on my main blog if you have any.

Until the next squiggle piece, y’know my motto, staaaay tune for more precious star kids!  (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

♥ More Miraculous Art by Squiggles

~LittleMissSquiggles (2017)  

Threats & Paybacks (M)

Masterlist |

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Mature | Smut | sub!kook

Words: 12k of sin

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook. Art major in the University of Seoul. Passive-aggressive little shit and gamer extraordinaire. That person, with his baggy pants and ruffled, black hair, was your flatmate and, more or less, his Twitter description. Saying more or less was absolutely necessary. Amidst the kitsch aesthetics of his art twitter account, he would never say something as vulgar as passive-aggressive. Jeon Jungkook? Little shit? Jamais. He perhaps would include his Overwatch rank, or a link to his baby-blue aesthetics blog, but admit he’s annoying? Never.

Jungkook was, for everyone but you, a saint—a very, very attractive saint. 

A/N: I blame @sugajpg for this. She turned me into a monster haha BUT THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP :‘)

Originally posted by jungkookfortunekookies

Keep reading

After Hours [m]

pairing: reader x Yoongi

Genre: tattoed!yoongi, rapper!tyoongi, angst? fluff? smut, idk how to label this haha

word count: 16,212

warnings: graphic sexual content, alcohol, language

a/n: this is loosely based of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. i am v nervous about this as it isn’t the usual angst fueled plot I normally write. so if it’s crap, please be kind haha. i’m tagging the lovely @dimplecoups​ because i know you’ve been waiting for this. and @2seoke for always being the best babe.

Originally posted by lethargicmin

You looked in the mirror, making sure your face mask was properly in place. If you were going to look like a serial killer for the next 20 minutes, you at least wanted to look the part. Your bed was calling your name as you walked over to the soft mattress, choosing to ignore the missed calls and text messages from your best friend. This was the first Saturday night you had to yourself in months. No work. No brother. No best friend. You were free to do whatever you wanted.

Or at least that’s what you had originally intended. But as the door to your bedroom crashed open you soon realized that the night had other plans for you.

“Why haven’t you answered my calls?” your best friend Irene squealed as she plopped down at the foot of your bed. “It’s Saturday night and I know you don’t have to work tomorrow!”

You gave her a look. Well, you tried to give her a look to the best of your ability as the motions of your face was restricted by the sheet mask on top of it. “There’s a reason why I didn’t answer your calls. And just because my idiot brother gave you a key to our apartment doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here any time you want.”

Irene rolled her eyes, blowing a large bubble from the gum she was constantly chewing. She was clearly not amused at your disinterest on leaving your apartment tonight. You reached forward, popping it with your pointer finger. “You’re no fun, Y/N” she whined, collecting the gum back into her mouth.

“I can’t have fun when I’m always too busy taking care of you.” you quipped, reminding her of the last time the two of you went out. “I had to beg that cop not to give you a ticket for being drunk in public. Why aren’t you bothering my brother? I’m sure he would love to see you.”

Keep reading

Peanut Butter Cookies

*throws allergic!Lance at you and runs away*

Summary: When Pidge’s birthday rolls around, Allura remembers her offhand comment about liking peanut butter. Little did she know that Lance is actually very, very allergic. (angst and fluff, and a bit of established klance because I have no self control and I ship it leave me alone)

I hardly ever post anything because I have no confidence ha so if you like it, let me know! This is very short compared to lots of other stuff I’ve written.

@taylor-tut I don’t think this is that good or even if it counts as langst/whump but I’ll tag you anyway and @voltronpaella thanks for actually getting me to post this my dude


When Allura called the Paladins into the kitchen, Lance expected some sort of emergency.

Why they’d be meeting in the kitchen, he had no idea, but he slid out of bed regardless. After removing his face mask he padded out into the hall, slightly resentful that he didn’t have time to straighten his hair.

Lance nearly bumped into Hunk in the hallway, who was also still in pajamas. The two were the last to arrive in the kitchen. He surveyed the others and found Shiro in full armor, Keith with an activated bayard, and Pidge rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with a laptop tucked under her arm.

“Princess, we’ve talked about this,” Lance grumbled. “You have got to stop interrupting my beauty sleep.”

Keep reading

heartbreak chronicles {1} | M

 PT 1 | PT 2ONGOING

Contains: bad crack, smut {fuckboy!jimin}

Words: 10,164

Summary: Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well.

[img cr]

A/N: I tried out a “lighter” writing style for… whatever this is. Hope you guys like it! | This fic is based on the movie “John Tucker must die” | SUB!BTS COLLAB

The girl’s request echoed on the warm air of your living room, dancing on silence as your body was covered in shock. For an instant, you truly believed you had misheard her words, replacing them for something much more unrealistic. Regardless, as the quietude fell like a blanket over the two of you, you noticed, at last, that your friend could not be more serious. “You want me to do what?” You finally asked, flabbergasted.

The night had started normally — and that was all that you could ever wish for. All that you wanted was to rest after an exhausting week, merely putting your your pajamas and watching shallow TV shows until your tiredness forced you to go to sleep. You wanted to get some pizza and gossip with your roommate about the most frivolous of subjects, allowing for the storm of stress and unfinished projects to disperse from around your head.

However, she had a different idea of how that night would unfold. “We want you to break his heart,” Lisa told you with utter serenity, as if the words that had left her mouth were no more than mundane. “Thought that was quite clear.”

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Truth May Vary

Yes, hi, excuse me, passing through, dropping crap all over the fandom. 

Hi. So, I did the prompt! @pink-paladin-lance hope you like it, tho I didn’t made it as angsty bc I craved fluffiness and well, …yeah. Hope you like it anyways!

Ps. Long Post. So yeah! No warnings? Just mean aliens, psh. 

Nothing much to say? Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me and the idea come from @pink-paladin-lance (:

Edit: ….Did i fixed it the damn problem or? 


“Alright! Another win for Voltron!” Hunk shouts animatedly as he wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulder, shaking him as he cheers, “Did you guys see how Keith dodged that laser beam when one of the Galras tried to sneak up on him? Keith, buddy, that was amazing! You totally flipped them!”

Keith laughs as he takes off his helmet and brushes Hunk’s praise off. “What? No, come on! Are you kidding? Were you even present when your Lion completely crushed that rock and saved the entire village? Because I was and it was out of this planet, man.”

“Okay, guys, but I think I speak for everyone that the best part was when we formed Voltron and we completely destroyed that Robeast because Shiro’s plan was on point!” Pidge cuts in, grinning behind her shoulder to meet their leader, “If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, the battle would have taken a lot longer.”

Shiro chuckles from his place besides Allura and waves the compliments off with a hand. “No way. The plan was a success because your plants held the Robeast long enough for us to make a move, Pidge. You have been improving a lot since the day we found of about your Lion’s power.”

Lance watches from the sidelines as he stands besides Coran, a few feet away from the team. He smiles fondly as he hears them cheer and praise each other, their adrenaline and enthusiasm that always come from a winning battle still running through their blood.

“Wait, wait, but did you guys notice when Lance –” Keith’s sentence is suddenly cut off when the Prince of the Royal Family from the Kingdom they just saved clears his throat abruptly, catching everyone’s attention and making Keith’s proud grin to dim, replacing it with a frown.

“On behalf of my people and my Mother, I would like to express our gratitude towards the brave Paladins of Voltron who saved us today and forevermore, for it is their duty to defend and serve this Universe from the claws of evil.” The Prince says, voice high and powerful.

He stares into each of the Paladin’s eyes before they fall on Allura. “Princess Allura, please, as a thank you, allow us to escort you and the entire team to our Castle in order to present you an exquisite and well deserved banquet in your honor.”

Allura smiles and opens her mouth to respond but Lance’s voice beats her to it.

“Sure, dude!” He shouts happily, walking a few steps until he’s standing beside Allura and Shiro. “A banquet is always appreciated! I mean, Voltron really kicked some serious ass today if you know what I mean.” Lance can hear the way his team groan and chuckle at his words, too used to Lance’s cocky facade and he can feel Allura’s playful smack of her hand on his ribs.

Lance’s grin fades when the Price stares down at him unamused and something inside him drops unpleasantly.

“Blue…Paladin, of course.” The Prince says, a bore and uninterested tone on the back of his tone as he forces a rigid polite smile, “While I agree with you on the fact that Voltron surely won this battle by their own hands, I have to ask…”

He pauses, letting his words linger in the air as he takes a step towards Lance and clicks his tongue.

“Why are you on the team? I’m sure that your … talents, if you even have some, can be of much assistance back in the Castle.”

Lance’s smile falls and he hears the way someone behind him takes a sharp intake of breath but Lance doesn’t bother to turn around to found out who exactly.

“Well, I am the Blue Paladin. I have to be where the team is, of course.” Lance says, mouth twitching in what he hopes to be a smile but ends up being a grimace.

The Prince clicks his tongue once again and shakes his head as if in disappointment. “Ah, my apologies, Blue Paladin. I had just assumed that you were just filling the spot for the time being until the true Blue Paladin claimed the title.”

Lance doesn’t need to turn around to know what’s happening behind his back. He can feel the tense air that has settled on the team. He can hear the hard shallow pants from Hunk’s end as the Yellow Paladin tries to suppress the urge to lunge at the Prince. He can hear the soft faint sound of Shiro’s arm activating itself along with Keith’s bayard. He can even feel Pidge’s deathly glare that goes through him to get to their target that is the Prince.

He feels the grip of Allura’s hand on his suit tighten and the way Coran’s hand find its way until it’s resting on his shoulder.

But the Prince doesn’t. He doesn’t see, feel or sense any of what Lance does because they are not his team, they are Lance’s.

The Prince continues.

“No offense, Blue Paladin, but I had actually thought that Princess Allura here was the rightful Paladin for the Blue Lion. Having her leadership and power aside, she seems to be such a good fit for the title.”

Lance doesn’t disagree.

“Of course, I might be wrong. After all, there must be a reason why you are fighting besides Voltron itself. I speak out only because I believe your talents have been blurred by being surrounded by such powerful people and I’m merely concerned about the efficiency in future battles, thinking that your efforts may not be good enough –”

Lance can’t even come up with a response because suddenly there’s a body rushing past him and then Keith is standing there, pressing his Marmora Blade against the Prince’s neck.

“Would you like to say that again? Just to make sure I have the right motive to make you regret those words?” Keith hisses, face inches away from the Prince’s.

“Keith.” Coran calls, sharp and with a hidden warning, “Step back from the Prince, right now, Young Paladin.”

“But Coran –!”

Right now.

Keith growls but ends up taking a step back, his scowl deep in his face as he glares at the Prince from a distance.

“Prince Yult,” Allura says, voice tight and on edge as she releases Lance’s suit and takes a step forward, “While we appreciate your hospitality, you have no right to –”

“Princess Allura, if I may?” Lance cuts off, quiet but firm as he raises his chin high, staring at her evenly.

Allura stares right back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she nods.

“Prince Yult.” Lance addresses respectfully and waits until the royal nods at him before he continues, “I can understand your confusion about my position as a Paladin and your concern around the topic. My team’s talent and power is unmeasured and it’s not something anyone can live up to.”

“Lance…” Keith mumbles behind him but Lance continues.

“Which is why I must ask of you, not to doubt my team’s efficiency based on their one weakness that is me.”

“Lance, that’s enough.” Shiro snaps, low and dangerous but Lance doesn’t stop.

“Rest reassured, your highness.” Lance smiles, tight and forced, “That Voltron shall continue winning more battles and I will not be a liability to the team.”

“Buddy, come on, stop –”

“Now, if you excuse me, your highness.” Lance says, cutting Hunk’s plead short, “I shall take my leave. I’m sure the rest of the team would love to meet the Queen, but I sadly need to go back to the Castle and stand guard.”

Lance doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns around, ignoring the way Keith reaches out to him and how the rest of the team calls his name.

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