mr.-hart

  • Lucas & Riley:*sit with their upper arms/elbows touching in one episode that takes place waaaaay back at the start of S2*
  • Their shippers:OMG they're always touching! No personal space!
  • Lucas & Maya:*sit with their upper arms/elbows touching in several episodes from as recently as GMNY to as far back as Game Night*
  • The same Rilucas shippers:Psh, that doesn't mean anything. It only counts now that we know Lucas and Riley are gonna sit like that.
  • Me:...well allrighty then.
3

If you find a guy that treats you like Cory Matthews, you might want to look around to make sure that your life isn’t all just a tv show for people’s entertainment like in “The Truman Show”

Harry opened his eyes slowly to an unfamiliar ceiling.  This could be bad, he thought.

He glanced to his side, where Eggsy sat in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair.

Less bad, his brain corrected.

Eggsy sat up a little straighter, unsmiling.  “I could kill you my fucking self, Harry.”

Nevermind.

“You’re in hospital mate.  Someone shot you.”

Harry blinked several times, as his sleep-addled brain tried to process this information.  

“Mr Hart, the ambulance is ready to transport you to the next hospital,” a nurse interjected with a clipboard held out.  "If you could please sign the release papers?“

Harry made a move to sign the papers but paused when the nurse completely ignored him.

To hand the papers directly to Eggsy.  

Who proceeded to sign the papers as “G. Hart.”

The nurse exited the room and Harry gave Eggsy a pointed look.  ”Mr Hart, are you?“

"See, this is exactly why we should just get married, wanker.”

PIGS

Mr. Hart smartly rapped the ruler against the whiteboard and everyone settled, turned their heads towards the teacher and shut up. The teacher started speaking.
“Okay, class. I have told you this day was coming two weeks beforehand, and you can’t back out of it now. The ones not attending the activity, please leave with your stuff and go to Mr. Lancer’s class. If you make a fool out of me, I’ll gladly give you detention.” Mr. Hart and class waited as the small group filed their way out of the door.
He started pointing out things to the class. “First off, I want everyone, and that means everyone, wearing an apron and goggles. And, Star, I don’t care if it looks out of season or unfashionable. Wear it or you get an auto F.” Star pouted.
“Groups of four of my choice. Two will be dissecting the pig, one is to be the scriber and the other, the director. The ones opening the pig up will wear gloves.This table has two papers of which one is a manual and the other you’ll need to fill out.” Mr. Hart lifted up each paper so the class got an eyeful. Sam banged the desk with her fist and opened her mouth.
Mr. Hart smoothly inserted, “The pigs are stillborns. They have been given to us by the food industry. They have not, absolutely, not killed the babes for science’s sake. They were either premature or stillborn of an unknown reason.” He raised an eyebrow at the now sitting and sulking Sam.
“Daniel Fenton.” The moment his name was called, he sunk low into his seat. “You will not be touching anything or using anything sharp. Is that understood?” Mr. Hart was still a bit stiff about Danny breaking several beakers and other equipment. Danny flushed and buried his face into his palms. Dash started to laugh obnoxiously when the teacher cut him off.
“Dash Baxter. You will participate and be respectful of your peers or I’ll have a little chat with your coach.” Dash was murderous and Mr. Hart merely stared back impassively. Dash lowered his eyes and sneered away. “That’s right, young man, keep up that attitude.”
Mr. Hart wetted his throat with a mug and continued speaking. “After we have with the pigs, there are Clorox wipes and you will wipe down and dry every inch of the equipment tables and tools. Behind me are the pigs. If you have listened, and I shall know if you have not, I will proceed with the arrangement of teams. Afterwards, please gather your equipment.” Teams called and people scurried off to their tasks. When a line formed, awaiting the pigs, he spoke once more.
“Today, we will open up the abdominal cavity and observe the organs. Your goals are to find stomach, liver, pancreas, small intestine, and reproductive organs. Once you have done so, call on me and each of you will verbally identify the organs I point to.”
He cracked open the bin and handed out bags filled with preservative fluids and pigs.
“Make sure you put the team name on it. We will continue to the chest area after today.” Several gagging noises ensued when the bags opened, filling the room with their pungent and unique scent. Tucker fainted and Danny had to escort him to the nurses office, much to the formers embarrassment. Dash braved the bag and slowly tied the pig down. At first sight of blood, he fainted and also had to be escorted out of the room by Danny.
Star nearly vomited and it was decided by the cheerleader group to leave the class and breath the fresh air outside. Mr. Hart grimaced at the casualties. There was no windows to open so the smell was so much more worse.
Kwan loudly cursed. He had as a joke poked the small intestine with the pointy stick and offal emerged from it. Mr. Hart sighed.
Maybe this was a bad idea.

Tardigrada

In my senior year of high school, me and a partner in biology had to do a project on a phylum in the kingdom of animalia.  We ended up picking phylum tardigrada.

If you aren’t familiar, this is a tardigrade, or “water bear”:

External image

In a word, tardigrades are badass.  They reproduce normally after being exposed to the vacuum of space for 10 days, live everywhere on earth, would survive the hell out of cockroaches, etc.

Anyways, so for our project we were supposed to do an anatomically accurate model of a species from our phylum.  Instead, after watching my class mates present numerous foam balls and sticks and whatever else that probably took hours, I walked up to the front of the class and held up a ragged, 30 year old stuffed bear that I had stuffed into a huge glass jar filled with water.  It had suspenders and a bow tie.  I very much regret the fact that I did not take a picture of my water bear.

anonymous asked:

Okay for fear of sounding rude, from what I've read in your blog it seems a bit like you may be trying to hard with Mr Hart. I get that you enjoy speaking to him, but I feel like maybe you should try and give him some space at the same time. From what I read about the 'short responses' he gives you - it seems more like he's busy and doesn't really have time to talk to you. Maybe just make sure that he has time to speak to you & give him some space if needed! Teachers have a lot of grading to do.

It’s not rude at all! I appreciate all feedback- positive or negative. Thanks for the concern. :D.

In regards to Mr. Hart, I highly doubt that I’m trying too hard.. I had ask him before if I was annoying/ bothering him, and he says that I’m not.. I’m pretty sure he’s ok with it. He’ll tell me if I’m bothering him. He’s insensitively honest like that. dx.

Plus, he always responds in a short manner even if he isn’t doing anything much(Well.. He’s always doing something, even when talking to his teacher friends..). As he says, “It’s best to be terse."He’s just the reserved type of person that’s slow to open up.. I am like that too.

Also, I only talk to him for about a few minutes during a fifteen minute break. I leave him alone most of the day.. Unlike Mr. House. I’m with Mr. House before school, before entering Mr. Hart’s class, and during lunch break.. I think I was overpowering Mr. House instead. dx.

Anyways, don’t worry about Mr. Hart. :D. He’ll tell me if I’m bothering him. He and I are just like that. We’re not as close as Mr. House and I or Ray and I.

Thanks for the ask. Don’t be afraid to come out of Anon. :P.