on my way to school and i find this at the off ramp

okay but the only marichat i can genuinely see is the kind where it’s not 2am balcony visits but just two people trying to find out what the other is like (in a non-romantic way more like who the hell is this person and what makes them them)

like marinette saying an off hand comment about chat being looked over all the time in favour of ladybug saying things along the lines of “they’re a team ladybug cant fight without chat” and adrien just being touched that his awkward school friend sticks up for chat?? 

like he wants to thank her but knows if he turned around and told her in class it wouldnt quite work out so well. but he’s curious as to what she’s like since she rarely gets a full sentence out around him when he tries to have a conversation

when chat knocks on the bakery door one day whilst her parents are out she’s curious about her partner. (don’t try to tell me people would talk because I present you the evillustrator ep where he just stood outside her door talking and no one saw) so she invites him in for some croissants or something.

at first its just like “a cat told me that you talked highly of me today i just wanted to extend my purrsonal thanks, princess.” and she just brushes it off like it’s no big deal but she’s also curious about what her partner is like. when hes not trying to show off for her or impress “his lady”.

at first it starts off as casual visits to the bakery timed when her parents are gone but when that proves hard they progress to afternoon/afterschool balcony visits. the visits are just two friends hanging out, laughing about any mutual interests they have (chat confessed he liked anime and mari confessed she liked cheesy tv shows and they each watch the other’s suggestion to get to know each other better). 

their interactions start to ooze into their other personas. adrien casually referencing a tv show she had suggested to chat and she barely even notices. ladybug mentioning to chat that she agreed that sunsets were the best time of day, even though he had only told that to marinette as chat.

slowly things start to trickle in about each other and only then do they put the pieces together. cue suspicion of identities on both sides. their visits becoming flustering messes because “the coincidences are too similar this definitely might be their crush it might be adrien/ladybug” but also hesitant because what if theyre wrong?

it all comes out of the bag when marinette and adrien are working on a school project together (they were paired up by ms bustier) and marinette casually goes “chat can you pass me that book over there?” adrien complies, not noticing for one moment she used the wrong name. 

five minutes pass before both realise what they had done. adrien is freaking because he’s like “oh no i let the cat out of the bag” punning even in the face of disaster when tikki lets him off the hook and reveals mari after she becomes too flustered with the words to say

they then are red in the face and bursting with happiness when they go to school as boyfriend/girlfriend


Anne Marie Hochhalter, 17 in 1999.
Anne Marie was outside eating lunch on the grassy knoll with two friends when the shooting began. At first she thought it was a joke but when she saw students getting shot in the legs, she realized it was for real. She tried to run to the safety of the cafeteria and was shot by Eric Harris once in the back and once in the chest. Paralyzed by a bullet that damaged her spinal cord and diaphragm (it was later found lodged in her liver), she collapsed, unable to move. She told investigators later that while she was playing dead she could hear one of the gunmen shouting orders to the other but couldn’t understand what they were saying. If rescue workers had been as little as two minutes slower in reaching her, she would have died. As such doctors later called her the “miracle girl”. She was later moved to Craig Hospital for spinal cord rehabilitation. She spent four months in the hospital.

Her mother Carla, who’d been diagnosed with depression committed suicide 6 months later, on October 22, 1999. The reports say she went to a pawn shop, bought a gun, loaded it and killed herself on the spot. She was pronounced dead at the hospital. Her father Ted remarried a year later, marrying one of the grief counselors he and Anne met.

Her 16 year old brother Nathan was also a student at Columbine. While the shooting occured, Nathan was trapped in a science room. Anne Marie underwent therapy at Craig Hospital with Patrick Ireland and resumed school Sept. 9 1999, taking one Physics class with him. Her family bought a house with wheelchair ramps and lifts with the help of Colorado Homebuilders Foundation. At age 18, she was attending Columbine part time and helped out in the nurse’s office in addition to taking classes. She wanted to go on to community college once she graduated but had planned to take the summer of 2000 off to “be a teen” since she’d lost that time the previous summer.
- acolumbinesite

Anne Marie Hochhalter made a facebook status on febuary 11 2016, where she wrote;

Dear Sue Klebold, I was injured at Columbine High School in 1999. As you know, your son Dylan, and his classmate, Eric Harris, killed 13 people and then themselves. You are releasing a book called, “A Mother’s Reckoning”, and are appearing tomorrow on the TV program 20/20 to talk about what happened and what your son did. I have only two instances to form an opinion on you and they are as follows:
1. You and your husband wrote me a letter a few months after I was paralyzed saying how sorry you were. It was genuine and personal. The Harris letter, on the other hand, was four sentences long on a folded up piece of paper, and was cold and robotic. To refresh your memory, your letter read like this:
“Dear Anne Marie,
Our prayers have been with you each day as we read about the terrible ordeal you and your family have experienced. We read that you had been transferred to Craig Hospital, and we were so thankful that you had progressed to the point where you could enter a rehabilitation facility. Though we have never met, our lives are forever linked through this tragedy that has brought unspeakable heartbreak to our families and our community. With deepest humility we apologize for the role our son, Dylan, had in causing the suffering you and your family have endured. Your recovery process will be a long and difficult road, and we hope that the support of people all over the world will help you find strength and courage as you meet the many challenges you have yet to face. When we read reports of your progress, we marvel at your resolve. It is still terribly difficult for us to believe that the son we knew could play a role in causing harm to you and others. The reality that he shared in the responsibility for this senseless tragedy is beyond our comprehension. We offer our love, support, and service as you and your family work to gain control over your lives. May God watch over you during your recovery process and beyond. May each day bring you successes, however small, that bring you hope and encouragement.
Sue and Tom Klebold.
2. I was contacted by ABC to comment for the 20/20 special and they told me that any proceeds from your book (aside from publisher’s costs) will go to helping those with mental illness. Six months after Columbine happened, my mother, Carla, committed suicide. She was already suffering from depression so the shootings didn’t directly cause her to do what she did, but it certainly didn’t help. It means a lot to me that you wouldn’t keep those proceeds for yourself, but to help others that suffer from mental illness.
I think it’s appropriate that the program that you are appearing on is named “20/20”. Hindsight is truly 20/20 and I’m sure you have agonized over what you could have done differently. I know, because I do the same thing with trying to think of ways I could have prevented my mother’s death. I have no ill-will towards you. Just as I wouldn’t want to be judged by the sins of my family members, I hold you in that same regard. It’s been a rough road for me, with many medical issues because of my spinal cord injury and intense nerve pain, but I choose not to be bitter towards you. A good friend once told me, “Bitterness is like swallowing a poison pill and expecting the other person to die.” It only harms yourself. I have forgiven you and only wish you the best.
Anne Marie Hochhalter.

Dear Evan Hansen Headcanons

- Jared once bought heelies because as the school funnyman it’s practically his job- but then he rolled down a ramp and crashed into a fountain

- when Connor was alive he punched a kid who made fun of his black nail polish

-Evan has both a fidget cube and spinner, but uses the cube more often. Jared used to tease him for it but then he saw how much it helped Evan and let the boy be free

-Evan has actually been handling his anxiety a lot better since the whole Connor project incident, and it makes Heidi and Jared so happy because: you’re doing great sweetie look at you go

-it took Evan a really long time to tell Jared how he actually broke his arm and when he did it was very a random very fast word vomit while they were hiking.

-Evan falling out of the tree is now the one thing Jared will not make fun of

-Jared once tried to ask Evan out and ended up screaming “YOU WANNA GO” at him and Evan instantly thought Jared wanted to fight and was Afraid

-things were incredibly awkward with Zoe for a long time. Most of the time they accidentally met in the orchard and Evan would always, without fail, start apologizing. Zoe is so used to it that whenever she sees Evan she instantly says “it’s ok.”

-Heidi takes as many days off as she can but she’s still really busy, whenever she’s home she’s making all of Evan’s favorite foods and they chill out and watch cop shows

-Heidi usually asks how Evans day went and if he’s doing ok, and Evan makes sure she’s not over exhausting herself

-One time in the middle of Evan’s routinely “I’m sorry I fucked up so bad” speeches Zoe suddenly asked “so you wrote that letter?”

-Evan didn’t go to the orchard for a week after that he was so shook

-whenever someone accidentally steps on the back of Evan’s shoes he loses his shoe, everything in his pockets, and face plants

-Jared is gonna make fun of Evan until he dies but if anyone else does Jared will personally show up to your room that night and end you

-Zoe actually helped to mend their very awkward relationship by making stupid jokes before Evan could open his mouth and after that they were able to just have a comfortable silence

-Jared is the living embodiment of “I made you a friendship bracelet” “lol that’s so stupid” “you don’t have to we-” “NO IM NEVER TAKING IT OFF”

-he may or may not have a few of Evans friendship bracelets around his ankle

-after middle school Jared actually got really afraid of being bullied, so when high school started he upped his teasing to the next tier

-Evan tries really hard to comfort Jared when he feels like shit- which is more often than you’d think- but it’s just so hard to tell when he is and he always throws it off with a dumb joke

-one time Jared teased Evan about the Connor project, and went too far, Evan didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, Jared almost cried

- sometimes when he can tell Evan is having a rough day he invites him to places randomly- “hey so all my totally awesome friends bailed on me for the mall, and I figured you’d wanna go since you have no life or whatever”

- alternatively Evan sits by Jared and makes awkward small talk, and just gives the boy a chance to tell him what’s wrong. He’ll give him his cube if Jared seems especially anxious

-Zoe once asked Evan if anything he told her was true, and he told her about the printer story. She seemed somewhat happy that Connor cared she was in the letter.

-Zoe once stabbed Connor in the eye with mascara and still finds it one of the funniest memories of him

-Zoe is a music depression person, she sits in her room with music full blast a lot

-“wait Zoe you know that you don’t have to like forgive me and be friends with me right like that’s totally ok i know I screwed up so-” “I know, I also don’t have mourn Connor” “…so why are you at the orchard so much”

-she never explains this

-one time Jared jumped on Evans back and they both ended up in a river

-he knows Evan has the strength to hold him up and dammit he’s gonna prove it

-one of the things Evan doesn’t regret about the Connor project is his speech because he still gets messages of the video thanking him and telling him how helpful it was

-Evan really wants a hamster, like really fucking badly

-Jared constantly greets people with “sup I’m gay” or “sup Hereros”

-Jared also constantly points out hot guys in hopes that Evan will agree because he can’t tell if Evan really is bi or not he just gets bi vibes from him

-“hey can you help me find updog” “what is..updog…?”

- this happens with Bofa too

- Connor used to be the master of avoiding situations. If you tried to have a serious conversation with him he’d either distract you or you’d turn around and he’d just be gone.

- he also does this thing where he pulls his hoodie up and pulls the strings whenever he just can’t deal with how stupid this is

-Jared was the first to drive and oh god what a mistake that was, he’s terrible

-Zoe once laughed really hard and spat gum at a teacher by accident

-one time while hiking with Evan he reached over and ate a leaf and Evan can’t even look at him the same way- what is wrong with you, Jared

- operation ask Evan out part 2- Jared tried to let Evan come to him because who wouldn’t you know? Then Zoe explained that she solidified the relationship- so he took Evan to the park but ended up eating too many chili dogs and throwing up on the curve when he got nervous. He was still trying to ask him out while hurling

-Alana becomes Number One Leader, she’s great at it, she’s learned to listen to other people more often.

-she hangs out with Jared and Evan a lot, she usually organizes the hangouts

-was voted most likely to succeed in life and honestly? It was probably unanimous

- Jared and her are in the “Evan was a dick to me” club and have tshirts

- eventually they let Zoe into their club

-one time they were hanging out and invited Zoe without Evan knowing and Evan nearly jumped out a window he ran away so fast

- Alana saw Zoe’s stars on her jean cuffs and got so happy “oh my god that’s such a great idea it looks so cute!” “Oh thank you it’s just-” “do you mind if I do it too?” “Not at all but why-” “do you have a marker?”

- Evan can’t tie his shoes

- Alana ends up uploading a bunch of videos of Zoe playing songs, and they get some good attention. Zoe was shocked but Alana just explained that it was inevitable

-Jared goes through everyone’s phones and changes people’s contact names to memes

- “Evan stop apologizing so much” “I’m sorry-” “Evan no. None of that. Please” “ok ok I’m sorr-” “EVAN”

- Evan and Alana hate litter. Like a lot. Jared will never understand it but whenever the two are out they’re just picking up all the litter they find and throw it out.

-Jared once made a joke “maybe you guys should just carry around bags to carry garbage in”

-After they started doing this Jared made another joke: “why don’t you two make a recycling project”

-after Alana and Evan become save the world co-presidents Jared learned he really needs to stop joking.

-Jared cried when he graduated

anonymous asked:

could we get some shiro hc for when he's proposing to his s/o?? like what he's feeling, how he'll do it etc some fluffy feels are much appreciated

I’m crying rn bc I got to imagine Shiro proposing, thank you so much for this gift! Also, this is quite long because Shiro has a master plan and it involves everyone.

Keep reading

high school horrors

i actually love that suburban high school aesthetic. brimming with reveries & teenage dreams. 

  • those elegant-vampiric redbrick school buildings, three-hundred-years old with shielded pasts, sophisticated gates that squeak and creak like old floorboards or wounded warblers when wrenched open, a vast lawn for spilling blood & dirty secrets after class.
  • school libraries and how they always smell like steam-cleaned carpet, old paper and anxiety, getting lost in a particularly dense section, being hushed by the stern-eyed librarian, lullaby-inducing & packed with centuries of burning knowledge it is the most comforting room in the entire school building (as long as you avoid one certain section). 
  • the nostalgia of a hundred sneakers squeaking against the recently polished floors, lockers slamming open and closed, the indistinct chatter of jittery voices all buzzed up on something or the other, sheets ruffling, bodies slamming into one another, the prideful chorus of a school anthem pouring out of the throats of overexcited cheerleaders.
  • passing notes to your friends in class, pens tapping against wooden desks, the way the girl sitting behind you’s laughter runs downstream and the boy who talks to no-one, always looking like he’s hiding something.
  • disembodied voices coming from the bathroom, various bright and persuasive posters encouraging you to join various clubs tacked up everywhere, the theatre a ramp of glitter & deception, post-it notes stuck to skin & gum clinging to the soles of your shoes.
  • the malicious rumors that flitter at lightspeed frequencies and build up like bed bugs, slip into every nook & cranny like dust, how the janitor once found a body in the broom closet and the history teacher’s into the dark arts, how all the staff gather after-school hours in the gym to perform satanic rituals, how someone once broke into the principal’s office only to find it covered in caution tape.
  • breaking into the school at night, hearing soft chanting like the distant mewling of traffic, a parking lot as sullen as the deteriorating gleam in every student’s eyes, the ghost of a little boy rounding the corner, a prophecy engraved into stone and the hellhouse graffiti lining some of the walls. 
  • the clausterphobic feeling of a thousand trapped teenage souls, melancholy and raging anger sprawling from the ceilings and leaking out through the taps, setting off the fire-alarm accidentally, attending an exam you thought you’d taken a bunch of times already, staring out the window because you thought you caught a shadow flicker by during detention, the man on the speaker announcing yet another prom or pep rally bloodbath.
Winter 2017 Wrapup

Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid

Originally posted by xramensoup

I didn’t have many expectations for this show going into it and I ended up pleasantly surprised with it. Kyoani waved their magic wand and made the show absolutely adorable and mostly fluffy, but also included some unexpectedly gorgeous fight scenes between the dragons. The show had some moments of absolute hilarity as well as genuine heart felt moments between Kobayashi and Tohru, but at the same time it had bits that made me go this is everything that’s wrong with anime. Overall I did enjoy it quite a bit, but I don’t think it’s the strongest work Kyoani has done in awhile. 


Youjo Senki (Saga of Tanya the Evil)

Originally posted by goku-z

Initially this was not a show on my radar but I kept hearing and seeing things here and there about and decided to give it a go once I was done with the season. I didn’t have any expectations because the studio doing it, NUT, is new and the director is also fairly new, so not much to judge off of. But it was a lot of fun! It takes place in alternate universe WWI with magic, and our main character Tanya the Evil is in fact not a very good person. The show sets up and executes how a world war happens, and also has some very real criticisms of human nature and war. My main complaints are s2 please, recycled CG elements (almost entirely background stuff. I’ll give the new studio some slack but it did take away some of the immersion a few times), and occasionally going a little bit too far towards edgy rather than dark. All said and done I thought it was executed well and an enjoyable watch. It’s fun to watch a show where the MC is definitely not a great person, and the side they fight for may be in the wrong, or at least isn’t definitively in the right. If you’re a fan of war shows, I’d give this one a try. 


KonoSuba S2

Originally posted by hiratzuka

Konosuba is back with more hilarity and hi-jinks from the gang of idiots. Darkness didn’t get a whole lot of focus in the first season, but she does in this one. Her masochistic tendencies are ramped up to the extreme and the show basically makes her the joke at every point possible. Personally I felt like it focused a bit much on her and some of the jokes started to get repetitive, but despite that it never failed to entertain. If you liked the first season you’ll like the second season. The hot springs trip was definitely the highlight of the show, with Aqua’s church cult being an unexpectedly humorous event. Overall a great sequel to the first season, but I think I liked the first season just a bit more. 


Gabriel Dropout

Originally posted by hiratzuka

For me this was the moe SoL comedy staple of the season. If you’ve seen a few of them already you can basically guess most of the jokes and gags in this one, but it was still fun throughout. I’m always impressed with authors find new ways to somehow get people into a high school and make a SoL comedy out of it. Vigne and Satania stole the show, leaving Gabriel and Raphiel behind for the most part. Doga Koba also did that thing were they have moe SoL down to a science and made it amazingly cute and fluffy. Solid pick for a comedy, but ultimately not much new. 


Demi-chan (Interviews with Monster girls)

Originally posted by mimi-pearlbaton

The only thing I knew about this show was that it looked cute and Hikari was in fact adorable. I was genuinely impressed with some of the directing in this show. Moe SoLs aren’t typically heralded for their plot and thoughtful discussion of more serious themes, but Demi-chan is a bit of an exception. This sounds like the sort of show that I would enjoy a lot, but I ended up pretty bored with it. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s because of the character dynamics. It was basically Hikari and then two much more subdued characters and the dynamics never really felt quite right. While it was a much more laid back show, it lacked energy when it needed it. I’ll finish it sometime, but I was a little underwhelmed by it. 


Little Witch Academia

Originally posted by gurikajis

The TV show ended up very different than the OVAs from what I watched. This is not a bad thing, but it meant that my initial expectations of the show were way off. For now I’ve got it on hold until the whole is released on Netflix and I can watch it a lot quicker than once a week. 


Kemono Friends

Originally posted by srchani

I only watched the first episode to see what all the hullabaloo was about. I intend to finish it at some point, but for now it’s on hold. Honestly it’s a miracle this show even managed to exist. I want to watch just for the sake of the creators. 


Anime of the season goes too…. Youjo Senki! The show I really knew nothing about ended up impressing me the most. I’m looking forward to more shows from NUT (hopefully S2). Had I watched 3-gatsu or Shouwa Genroku s2 either of those probably would have been AotS, but I didn’t. They are on my list of things to watch though. 

Seriously? [Teen!Sam Drake]

Pairings: Teen!Sam Drake x Reader

Request: n/a

About: Sam Drake and the reader outside at midnight, sharing a bottle of vodka. Secrets and suggestive conversations ensue. 

Warnings: NSFW mentions, mention of drugs, alcohol, mentions of abuse (geez angsty)

Inspiration: x

Originally posted by z1r43l

“Hey, calm down,” Sam ushered, catching your fist as you readied it to thump against the skating park ramp. You let out a deep breath, your heart hammering as you willed away the saddened tears in your eyes, angry at yourself for getting upset.

“Fuck! Okay, I’m sorry,” you breathed, exasperated. “I’m just feeling really suffocated in that damn house. Those stupid inconsiderate nuns are starting to piss me off. Am I being dramatic? I feel like I’m being dramatic.”

“A little,” Sam teased, to which you responded by thumping his shoulder. “Ouch. That hurt, you know. I’m sensitive.”

You laughed a little, “yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” Sam spread his arms out, “I am a man in touch with my emotions. Girls think that’s hot, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” I winked at him, “I’m so turned on right now.” 

Sam laughed. “Well, that’s the sort of effect I have on the ladies. Can’t blame them, either.”

“What?” You asked, frowning in sarcastic confusion and laughing. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m a total hit with chicks! They love me,” Sam continued. “A total specimen. Irresistible, charming, dash-”

“Sam, have you ever even got laid?” You laughed, leaning back against the bars of the ramp you were sat on, your legs dangling over the edge, your skateboard to your side. 

“Sure I have,” Sam responded quickly.

“Oh, yeah, to who?” You rose a brow at him, turning to face him. 

“To Crystal,” he announced, folding his arms as if announcing an achievement. In response, you rolled your eyes. That girls name always left a bitter taste in your stomach. She was friendly and she was gorgeous, which was the worst part. You didn’t like her.

“And how long did that take? A week?” You shot back at him teasingly.

“A couple months,” he shrugged. “Why does it matter, anyway? What about you, huh?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Twice in my whole life. Both horrible, scarring experiences,” you laughed.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“I don’t think that’s a territory I want to tread foot in again, thank you very much,” you shook your head, rummaging through your bag and pulling out a bottle of cheap vodka. “Want some?”

“Sure,” he accepted, taking a couple of swigs before wincing and handing it back to you. “You’re still telling me this story, though.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back and took a swig. “Ah, let’s see. Well, the first guy, his name was Keith or something. Kris? Maybe. I don’t know, they don’t sound like jock names. What’s a jock name that begins with K?”

“Seriously? You don’t even remember his name?” Sam laughed, humming for a while. “Kyle, maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” you laughed as he got it right, taking another swig before passing him the bottle again. “Well yeah, it was at high-school party. I was fifteen. He was seventeen I think, and that was just so cool to me. And yeah, it lasted for about thirty seconds and was the most painful experience ever, in some random strangers bathroom.”

“Classy. Sounds like a great life experience,” Sam teased. “Okay, what about the other one?”

“My drug dealer?” You said it like it was a question. 

“You had sex for drugs?” Sam was taken aback, but you shook your head quickly. 

“Oh, god no, definitely not,” you denied. “He was super cute and I was into him, so we hooked up a few times. He used me and kinda broke my heart,” you shrugged, “but yeah, he totally supplied me with free weed after that for like three months, but that wasn’t my initial idea.” You sucked in a breath, still feeling a pang of hurt. You truly did care about that stupid idiot, and you thought he’d felt the same. He’d been nice and genuine, but he’d used you. 

“Tough stuff,” Sam took a swig of alcohol, “they both sound like total assholes, though. You deserve better than that.”

“Name one guy that’d be fucking worth any of my time,” you rolled your eyes, slightly bitter, slightly tipsy. 

Feeling the extra courage from his edge of alcohol, he perked up. “Well, me for starters.”

You glanced over at him for a brief second, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks flushed. Whether that be from the alcohol or his statement, you couldn’t tell. Shuffling, you laughed a little.

“You’re worth all my time, Sam,” you teased, a small grin on your face. “Could you imagine the nuns if they found out? They already know I’m a dreadful sinner, Morgan.”

“Well, they wouldn’t have to find out, would they?” Sam nudged your side playfully, clearly getting excited about the idea. You would be totally down for that, but you’re not sure your emotional stability could handle that. You acted like you were a tough, totally nonchalant girl who didn’t care about anything, but you were quite the contrary. You cared quite a lot. 

“Why would you want to be with me anyway? Or at least infatuate yourself with me, albeit romantically, let alone sexually,” you drawled. “I’m a good-for-nothing seventeen year old who’s parents used to beat the crap out of because they were bored.”

Sam winced at your words and you felt a little guilty for saying that sort of thing. It wasn’t his normality and you had to remember that. 

“Not everybody feels that way about you, you know,” Sam sighed, “not everyone wants to hurt you.”

“Seems like it.”

“Okay, you’re being dramatic now,” Sam smiled sarcastically. “Course they don’t. Nate loves you to bits, you know.”

“Oh, yeah? And you?” You rose a brow, guarding your smirk behind the neck of the vodka bottle as you sucked the dregs from the bottom. 

“More than you’d ever know,” he shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Huh?” You questioned, not quite catching his words.

“Never mind,” Sam smiled, pulling himself to your feet. “Come on. Let’s get your sobered up before you get back to the orphanage. If the nuns see you drunk again you’ll be sleeping in the ‘dungeon’ again.”

“Oh, right,” you shuddered. The ‘dungeon’ was really just the basement where they isolated you from the others to pray until they felt you’d been forgiven. The worst of kids had been down there for a week, at most. “Okay.”

“Come on,” Sam offered you his hand, which you took, easing down the ramp with him. “Let’s get you back, yeah?”


High School Heartbreak.

Request from @avengersrulez1536:so the idea is Peter pan and the reader were good friends in school until he changed and became a leader and called the group The Lost Boys, he hurt her because he loves her and now he wants her back and as his queen. I thought that a alternate universe would be a fun read and could be based on Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri… 😊 <3

Note: I am still getting used this whole AU thing so you will have to bear with me. Hope this works anyway. I know I normally include the lyrics in requests like this but I didn’t feel that it would have suited the flow of this story so I have left them out this time. I would say that this piece of writing is based more around the chorus then anything else (don’t worry there is a happy ending!):  

And who do you think you are?
Runnin’ ‘round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Who do you think you are?

Peter Pan x Reader (High School AU)

Words: 2,338

Warnings: Just some language and some name calling….oh and some upset too.

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

High School. The place of nightmares for most people but not for you. In fact you found yourself enjoying coming here much more than you enjoyed being at home and all because of Peter. He had been your best friend for years now and you would always hang around with each other; even managing to snag a few classes together too. If anyone so much as looked at you in the wrong way or said something out of turn to you or about you he would quickly stand to your defence. It was rather admirable of him really and you were always more than willing to return the favour when he found himself in such a situation….which didn’t seem to happen half as often as it did with you.

You did everything together to the point where rumours soon spread suggesting that the two of you were an item; rumours of which you weren’t exactly quick to shut down because in all honesty you had always wondered about such a change in your relationship but had never acted upon it.

With the Winter Formal coming up soon though perhaps that would be the time for such a conversation.

“Oi Pan!”

The booming voice snapped you away from the conversation you’d been enjoying with Peter and was shortly followed by what could only be described as the sound of a cockerel or something.  That wasn’t the strangest thing though, no, that came about when Peter actually responded back with the same sound causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.

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Broken Spirit  Namjoon Imagine

Originally posted by ksjknj

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Genre: slight angst, soulmates! au Idol! Namjoon

Description: Everyone is born with their soulmates same on their arm. What happens when the name of one the members from  the biggest kpop group in the country is imprinted on your arm.


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anonymous asked:

I loved your captain cold alphabet thing! It was so cool! Could you do another captain cold imagine? Where reader is ray palmers bff and he gets a tad jealous? You are absolutely amazing!! 😘😘

A/N: Aw, thank you so much, I’m glad that you liked it and thank you for letting me know. Thank you that’s far too kind of you to say. I got a little carried away with this, but I hope that you enjoy it and that it kind of ended up how you were expecting.

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 101: The Fireworks

Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 101: The Fireworks

Pairing:  Captain Swan

Rating: T

Summary:  A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring  Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all  swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to  Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown  out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)

Missed the beginning? ( 1) ( 2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100)

Tagging a few people who may be interested: @sailormew4@annaamell@flslp87@emmateo26@fleurreads @doracianstormrose@mermaidswans@bethacaciakay@ultraluckycatnd@allfangirlallthetime@effulgentcolors, @ilovemesomekillianjones@kat2609@brooke-to-broch@missgymgirl @hellomommanerd @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven@charmingturkeysandwich@jennjenn615 @laschatzi@kimmy46@snowbellewells@iamanneenigma @daxx04 @lapi-lazuli@nickillian @a-rose-for-a-savior @in-spirational @gillie@manic-pixiefangirl @britishguyslover@ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst@nofeels@holmes-a-holic@kmomof4 @linda8084


CS Genre: Future Fic

Spring slowly sizzled into summer—a particularly hot and humid summer in Storybrooke that had Emma grateful that they had indeed decided to stay in the Land Without Magic, a place where air conditioners were a thing.

Ever since the Black Fairy was defeated a few months ago, she and Killian had responded to far more “cat stuck in a tree” or “Leroy double parked in front of Granny’s” calls than “weird, fairy tale villain intent on world domination just destroyed something” calls.

In fact, they’d had no calls about fairy tale villains.  It seemed Storybrooke had finally settled down into a peaceful, sleepy little town, with its requisite cast of eccentric characters.

It had never been the kind of life Emma had imagined she would lead—sheriff in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, married to her true love and so happy she thought she might die from it.  But though it might not be the life she’d expected for herself, it was a life she loved with every fiber in her being.

Even when Regina decided to institute regular town meetings to discuss town business.  (Seriously, they really were turning into Stars Hollow.) It was at one such meeting about a month ago, that the whole big production had been decided on.

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clamyewest  asked:

Hey it's the end of the term at school and it's super stressful so you should tell a story maybe? Please?

hmmmmm. so while i was at boarding school i took ap physics, which was a bad decision for all parties involved because a) as a pigeon-toed loser with a center of gravity her body doesn’t know what to do with, physics has never done anything but betray me, and b) i’m not very good at math.

the good thing about AP classes is that you only have to take the actual school exam once, at midterms. the bad thing about AP classes is that you have to take the AP exam. at the time, there were just… a of things i’d rather have been doing than studying for an AP physics exam, like, for example:

  • makin out with my then-boyfriend
  • watching lois & clark: the new adventures of superman in my dorm room, where once my roommate’s mother actually said to me “i don’t think i’ve ever come into this room and seen you out of bed”
  • wrestling guerrillas (ETA: so originally i was torn between “taking over national security” and “wrestling gorillas” when making this list and APPARENTLY MY BRAIN SPLIT THE DIFFERENCE)
  • filling out paperwork at the DMV
  • solving the then-impending economic crisis
  • giving myself a root canal
  • listening to the zac brown band’s “chicken fried” on repeat for the rest of my natural-born life
  • finding out that waterbeds don’t have fish in them, what the hell is the point of a water bed if it’s not also a NAPTIME AQUARIUM?
  • being stuck forever at that point where you’re JUST ABOUT to sneeze
  • breaking up with my then-boyfriend over a series of commitment issues and personal insecurities
  • realizing they never sold the last season of lois & clark on DVD
  • finding out dean cain campaigned for rick perry
  • RICK PERRY!!!!
  • ugh
  • UGH

you get the idea.

anyway, the problem with not studying for your AP physics exam if you’re not some kind of physics genius who hangs out in dexter’s lab and makes periodic table puns at dinner parties is that when it then comes time to sit down in the exam room, the AP exam asks you what happens when a 3-kg object is released from rest at a height of 5m on a curved frictionless ramp and you’re like, “…………well DID YOU KNOW THAT DEAN CAIN CAMPAIGNED FOR RICK PERRY????”

  • did you???? DID YOU???

no. i didn’t write that. what i DID do was think to myself, “well, molly, you’re going to major in Books And Thinking, not NUMBERS AND SCIENCE, so who cares, really, in the long term, about this exam??? i mean, getting a good grade on your AP physics exam isn’t a judgment call on you as a PERSON. you could get a 5 and be a douchebag, just like you could get a 1 and be a saint. so really, i mean, REALLY, would it be the end of the world if you chose to just…. maybe chose to answer this question creatively??? show that you can use limited resources, like your brain, to find creative solutions. BITCHES LOVE CREATIVE SOLUTIONS.”

so what i did, instead of attempting to answer the question, was to INSTEAD write a 5 paragraph essay, in spanish, about why we shouldn’t be throwing 3kg objects off ramps in the first place, because that’s dangerous. what is this object? is it breakable? are we aiming for something? 3kg might not SOUND like a lot, but at the speeds it could theoretically reach when being released down a frictionless ramp, i mean, that kind of thing could do SERIOUS DAMAGE. PEOPLE IN FRICTIONLESS WORLDS SHOULDN’T THROW 3KG STONES.

  • also, nobody should throw stones.
  • stop throwing stones at each other, what the hell dude.

in the second essay, which was like, “idk idk trains are going in different directions or something,” i wrote that the easy solution is to check the train schedules to see what time the trains will arrive, and check periodically with the conductor to see if there have been any delays. with the time saved by taking that approach and not DOING MATH, we should ask ourselves the Real Questions, like what season we are and how that should affect our wardrobe choices. i laid out a series of questions for the reader to determine whether they were a Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall:

  • do you prefer apples, oranges, or strawberries?
  • would you rather be hot, or cold?
  • what is your favorite holiday: christmas, thanksgiving, or easter?
  • would you rather go rock climbing, swimming, skiing, or apple picking?

based on these questions and a complicated point system i set up, the reader could determine their One True Season and what type of color palettes they should then focus on.

the bell rang. exam over. BYE, AP PHYISCS!!! SEE YOU NEVER, HAHA!!

the next year, fresh-faced mollyhall was walking through the halls of the science building on the way to AP environmental science (WHY DID THEY LET YOU TAKE ANOTHER AP SCIENCE CLASS? you may be asking yourself. WELL, i tell you, chuckling, WELL, THAT’S—that’s a really good question, actually.) when i was stopped by mr. h, my AP physics teacher.

“you know,” he said to me, “AP exams, like model un or athletic competitions, are representations of us as teachers, and of our students as people. they reflect the school.”

“cool beans, mr. h,” i said.

“which brings us to the subject of your essays,” said mr. h.


  • they send copies of your essays to your teachers, and
  • my AP physics teacher spoke spanish.

“uh,” i said. “yes. right. i see your point there. my essays. they were. well, i did put words on paper. you cannot deny that words were written. i think—i think i did okay? on the multiple choice? i think i…. gosh, mr h, you look very smart in that orange and brown color palette, is that new???”

“i’m a fall,” said mr. h.

One Step Ahead, Chapter 5: Pool Sticks and Road Trips

Rowan knew that letting Celaena out of his sight was not an option. If he lost her now, he’d most likely never be able to find her again. Not on his terms, at least. And he couldn’t go back to Maeve—or Arobynn, for that matter—empty handed. So after the golden haired assassin left the bakery, he waited sixty seconds before following her into the main streets of Rifthold. This part was easy. Now that he had her scent, Rowan could follow Celaena to the ends of the world. He was all but invisible, and would be harder to catch than the wind in one’s fingers. He stayed three cars behind at all times, and, when possible, two lanes to the left. He trailed her down street after street, his green eyes never wavering from his target. Celaena was slippery, he knew that first hand. He wasn’t going to let her slip away from him again.

Not taking his eyes off her generic blue car, Rowan pulled out his cell phone and called Vaughan. The white haired man knew when he needed help, and Vaughan was the best researcher in Erilea. He could dig up the dirt on anyone. Politicians hates him, lords of the underworld loved him, and Maeve owned him. Jaw twitching at the thought, Rowan waited patiently as the phone rang and rang. That wasn’t unusual for the dark haired man, though. Vaughan was a man of few words, and often screened his calls to limit social interaction. Eventually the ringing stopped and a female automated voice told him to leave a message, “Vaughan,” he greeted, merging into the right lane when he noticed Celaena heading towards the off ramp. “It’s me. I need help with some research. I need you to look into the Galathynius family—and their murders—ASAP. I need everything you can find. Thanks,” he hung up. Rowan wouldn’t consider himself a man of few words, especially not compared to Vaughan, but he wasn’t one to beat around the bush and waste his and Vaughan’s time, either. “Where are you going?” He wondered aloud to himself as he followed Celaena down Main Street, past the Rifthold police department, fire department, justice building … all the way down to city hall. The tall, imperious building was one of a kind, and almost entirely made of stained glass. The mayor had sanctioned the extremely expensive renovation of the building immediately after he won his first election several decades ago. Rowan shook his head the the monstrosity, wondering how much, exactly, it had cost the city to build.

The cleaner didn’t have time to put much more thought into the price of the building, though, when Celaena’s car pulled into city hall’s parking lot. Frowning, Rowan couldn’t for the life of him fathom why Adarlan’s Assassin would willingly walk into such a place. Instead of following her into the parking lot, the white haired male turned right and parked on the street two blocks away from his destination. Running his fingers through his hair, Rowan took in a deep breath before stepping out of his car and back tracking towards Celaena. Walking into city hall, Rowan found a security guard and asked, “Excuse me, my wife came in here just before me while I was parking the car, but I can’t seem to find her,” he furrowed his brow and scoffed good naturedly. “Women, right? You take your eye of them for one second and—” he trailed off, rolling his eyes for extra measure and the security guard chuckled.

“Yeah, know what you mean. What’s she look like?”

“Long blonde hair, white, about yay high,” he raised his hand to his shoulder before adding, “and gorgeous enough to make a model jealous.”

“A model, huh?” The guard scratched his chin, “Yeah, I saw someone that fit that description. Pretty little thing. She went down that way,” he jerked his thumb down the stair well. “Probably wanted to see the old vault—it’s open to visitors during business hours, y'know?”

“I didn’t know,” he did, but he decided he’d go with the wide eyed tourist look. “Thanks for you help.” Rowan headed down the stairs, smirking to himself. He knew it had been a gamble, parking so far away and giving Celaena such a head start in such a large building, but he also knew that nine out of ten secutity guards were men, and that Celaena was way too attractive to go anywhere without attracting the male gaze. That’s what she got, he supposed, for being hotter than the freaking sun. He stepped off the stair well and looked down the hall in the direction of the vault, then walked in the opposite direction. The vault—an empty one, especially—held no interest for the assassin. There must have been something else drawing her down here. The sound of barking laughter, just barely audible, made his ears twitch, and gave Rowan a direction to start his search. Just a few hundred yards away was a solid oak door, muffling the sound of a woman and two men. Not bothering to knock, Rowan swung the door open and narrowed his eyes on a strange sight. Celaena—Adarlan’s Assassin, Celaena—was standing off to the side of the room, a pool stick in her hand, looking for just a brief moment like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar before she quickly schooled her features. And on the other side of the pool table stood two men. Both looking at him with wide eyes and one with a mouth agape. Both whose presence was more shocking than the next. Closer to Celaena stood Chaol Westfall, son of the police commissioner and rising star of the police department, and closest to Rowan stood Dorian Havilliard, son of the mayor himself.

“Well, well, well,” Rowan growled, “what an interesting gathering of friends.”

Westfall moved fast—faster than Rowan would’ve given him credit for—and drew his gun, training it on the spot between Rowan’s eyes. “Hands on your head, Whitethorn,” he ordered.

Barring his teeth at the younger man, Rowan slowly began to raise his hands, acting the part of a submissive criminal, ready to give himself in. Chaol’s brown eyes stayed glued to his form, but he wasn’t infallible, Rowan knew that was true of everyone, and he had to blink sometime.


Rowan didn’t hesitate. Diving to the ground, he ducked into a somersault well beneath the gun’s range, and as he sprung out of his gymnastic movement, lunged for Westfall’s waist, tackling him to the ground. Placing one hand around the police officer’s neck, and the other around the wrist which held the gun, the Cleaner squeezed one and used the other to break the grip around the weapon. Forcing his knee into the man’s sternum, Rowan secured the gun and placed it against Westfall’s forehead. “Try that again,” he warned, leaning in, “and the next time you blink, your eyes will stay closed.”

Something hard and thin slapped against the side of his jaw. Flicking his eyes to his left, he saw Celaena standing over him, pool stick in hand and poised to strike. If it were anynone else, he’d have laughed outright—a pool stick, really?—but this was Adarlan’s Assassin. And if Rowan could think of at least three ways to kill someone with that pool stick, he knew without a doubt that she had already thought of five. And considering the hard line of her mouth, and the fire burning behind her eyes, the white haired man knew she also wouldn’t give him a second chance. “Put the rutting gun on the floor and get off my friend,” she hissed.

Running his tongue over his teeth, Rowan sighed and nodded. If it were anyone else, he thought. Or if he had just a bit more room between them. But it wasn’t and he didn’t, so he dropped the gun and peeled himself off the red faced police officer. “That’s what I get for being distracted by a gun … I should have gone after the real weapon first,” he said, raising a brow at the assassin and adding a charming smirk to complete the look. “Interesting company you keep, Celaena.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” she never took her eyes off him—never blinked, either, damn her—and kept the pool stick trained on his chest. Her brow rose, mirroring his, “Didn’t know you and Arobynn were so chummy.”

His smirk fell, “How’d you—?”

Her eyes glinted, “A little birdie told me. Now,” she finally relented and let the pool stick’s point fall to the floor. Rowan knew better than to assume that meant she let her guard down, she could still bring him to his knees in less than three moves if she wanted. Westfall coughed to the side of them, but neither of their gazes wavered. “Why are you following me?”

“I told you,” he shrugged, forcing his muscles to relax so as to seem casual. It wouldn’t work of Celaena, but if he could get one of the other two to let their guards down, step just a bit too close, the winds could easily change to his favor. “I need that ring.”

“Oh, yes,” her upper lip curled, “for Maeve.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a gentle voice called from behind Rowan and both criminals blinked. Then, continued their silent conversation from before.

Truce? Celaena’s eyes asked warily.

Rowan nodded slowly, Truce.

“Or, well, actually I do,” that voice continued, much more forcefully and with a bit of bite than Rowan hadn’t expected from the mayor’s son. Both Rowan and Celaena turned to give the dark haired man their full attention. “Forgive me Celaena,” Dorian said in a tone that was not at all apologetic. “but will you be needing Chaol or my assistance now that our game has been interrupted? Or are we free to leave?”

Scoffing, Celaena rolled her eyes and cocked her hip, “Shut up, Dorian.” She said it like it answered his question. Her eyes flickered to Wesfall, whose neck was slowly turning a dark shade of purple, and her eyes softened. Rowan’s nostrils flared dangerously, and he suddenly felt the impulse to throttle him all over again. Swallowing down the sudden rush of anger, Rowan tuned back in to the conversation. “Get out of here, you two. I’ll call you both later.”

Dorian nodded, and took a step towards the door, the paused and took a deep breath before looking into Rowan’s green eyes. “Just so you know,” he said in a low voice, “Celeana borrowed a book from me, and if anything happens to her and I never see that book again … I’ll be very put out.” Havilliard turned heel and walked out of the room with his chin held high. Rowan supposed that was how politicians delivered threats. How strange. Westfall was more direct, though less articulate, as he left the room, making sure to check the white haired man’s shoulder on his way out.

Once the door closed behind them, Rowan turned back around to find Aelin staring at him with her tongue sticking out. Snorting, Rowan shook his head, “That’s attractive.”

Shrugging, she replied, “I know.” Rolling her neck, she tossed the pool stick onto the velvety green table top and sighed, “You’re never going to give up on this ring thing, are you?” Rowan raised a brow. He didn’t need to justify that question with an actual answer. Glaring at him, Celaena growled out, “Fine. I’ll give it to you.” Rowan felt his shoulder slump in relief, but then she started talking again and all the tension that just bled out of him was drawn back, “On one condition.”

Holding back a groan, the Cleaner asked, “Which is?” He was really getting tired of doing everyone’s dirty work. First the ring, then the necklace—which he still hadn’t brought up to her—now this. His life was turning into a joke.

Smiling coyly at him, Celaena took a step closer and placed a hand on his chest, making his heart stutter traitorously, “Come away with me.”

“What?” He breathed out, sure he had heard her incorrectly.

“Come away with me. I’m going out of town for a few days and I want you to come along.”

All Rowan could think to ask was, “Why?”

“You’re easy on the eyes,” she shrugged. He leveled her with a look and she grinned mischievously, “And I find road trips boring.”

“So bring one of your law abiding friends,” he jerked his chin towards the door that Westfall and Havilliard exited out of just minutes ago. “Or someone less likely to kill you in your sleep.”

“See? You’re making things more exciting already,” she poked his chest, as if that settled everything. Then she held out her hand, “So, what do you say? We have a deal?”

“A few days on the road with you, and you’ll willingly hand over the ring? No trickery?” Rowan clarified. Celaena nodded, her smile never wavering. Sighing and realizing this would be the path with least resistance, he nodded and shook his head. “Fine, we have a deal.”

Check Yes, Juliet

So I finally finished the skater AU. It didn’t really turn out the way I wanted it to, but let me know what you think about it! I hope you guys enjoy it, and make sure to stop by my ask sometime and talk to me! Love you, sweethearts!


“Nice,” Piper commented as he slid down the ramp and took a seat beside her.

“Thanks,” Percy said, grabbing his skateboard and scooting off of the ramp so he didn’t trip anybody that came down.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching a few other people skate up and down the half-pipe. There were a few good people here, but it was mostly just kids that had dragged their parents to the park. Most of the other teens had already left, and they would probably come back later tonight to skate when there weren’t a bunch of little kids running around.

Percy and Piper had been friends since grade school. They had met each other in the fifth grade when they had been paired together to do a project about something informative, and after a few minutes of arguing, they had both realized that they liked to skate. So, they had made a kickass video and poster explaining the basics. Percy and Piper had even both worn their skating gear and brought their skateboards along. They had gotten an ‘A’ on the project, and they had been best friends ever since.

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Technically Speaking

Tech!Killian/Misfit!Emma Fic based off of this post. Tagging @jscoutfinch @xhookswenchx and @trueromantic1 for letting me invite myself into this conversation. 

Special thanks to @snow-into-ash who beta’d for me despite having an actual life this week, I really appreciate it!!!

rated T for language

She’s zeroed in on the stinging of her knuckles when the hall monitor grabs her by the collar of her flannel.

“Seriously, Swan?” It’s Leroy. It’s always Leroy, and the idea of calling hall monitors by their first name to establish equality is the weirdest thing she’s ever heard. She doesn’t need to feel equal to a middle-aged grumpy man.

“He grabbed my ass! I don’t hear you saying ‘Seriously, nameless-jerk-who-can’t-keep-his-hands-to-himself.”

“My name is August!” Mr. Nameless-jerk yells. Honestly, the anonymity was working for her. Now there’s an actual person, with a name, having a flathead screwdriver removed from his bicep. Now there’s a set of parents who are going to flip out and get her expelled from another school.

“No one asked you, August!” she shoots back and he actually flinches. He doesn’t seem so handsy now. If he starts to act like the victim here, she’ll be forced to stab him again.

“You know the deal.” Leroy shoves her like suddenly violence is okay. She brushes him off and marches out of shop class towards Principal Mills’ office.

When she gets there, there’s this boy dressed in all black, with his dark hair and a sad expression. She slumps on the bench beside him and he brings his knees together to allow for space. It’s more than the grown men on the city bus do on her way home, so she figures he’s worth a chat.

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reading the signs

had this sitting around in my drafts for a while so! here!! thanks to @ushiiwakas​ for proofreading it so long ago.

Castiel Novak, 29. Sign Painter, Stanford University Facilities Management and Planning.

As one of the few tradesman employed by Stanford University, Castiel spends most of his time in his studio, deep below the feet of passing students. He has two assistants – another tradesman like himself and a student intern – but most of his time is spent on his own. When he gets a request from either the custodial staff or a faculty member for a new plate, he does a proof on his design software, emails it, and once he gets the go ahead he fabricates and prints it full scale with a laser printer. On any given day Castiel can be applying a detail, frosting windows, or installing actual signage. He wears the usual black quarter zip with red seal maintenance uniform that’s typical of people working the grounds at Stanford; he doesn’t delude himself into thinking anyone knows he’s responsible for making anything.

While not high art, Castiel’s work is indispensable. He’s painted all the signs around campus announcing the names of buildings, room numbers, where to find wheelchair ramps or a bathroom: pieces of himself. Everything he makes is practical, says exactly what needs to be said in only a glance. Signs like that really only need to be there when you want to see them; they fade into the background just as Castiel himself does. Silently, he takes great pride in his work, in making a few lives easier.

Ironically, the sign that decorates Castiel’s door is just a piece of laminated paper curling at the edges. In neat typeface it announces, “Stanford University Sign Shop.”

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Raindrops (Luke smut) DAY 29!

Summary: After an outing ends in rain, you find yourself back at Luke’s apartment. You decide to confront the mutual crush you’ve shared for years, with extremely steamy results

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: This is smut!

A/N: I’m highkey v proud of this, I really hope you enjoy reading it! Check out Smutty September!

Originally posted by angelofficals

this gif is so fucking pretty I can’t deal

For as long as you can remember, Luke has always been a presence in your life. You went to nursery together, travelled up through high school and eventually attended the same college.

Your relationship with the handsome blond has always been a little confusing. You use the term ‘friends’ very loosely around Luke as both of you mirror the same feelings for each other.

The flirtatious banter and teasing comments have gone on forever, both of you liking to wind up the other until the sexual tension feels unbearable. It’s something you thrive off.

But, still, nothing’s ever come from these feelings. The occasional kiss here and there, maybe a touch of grinding, but you’ve never gone all the way. 


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Martial Arts delusion and how it hurts women.

“I want to be able to protect myself.”  From the hundreds of fellow martial artists I’ve talked with about why they train, this phrase sticks out at the top of the list. Over the years, I’ve become less and less convinced that martial arts actually does relate to “self protection” goals.  There are ways in which almost everyone who does martial arts may be “safer.”  (Exercise is healthy, improving balance and learning to fall safely will protect against common accidents…).   Some people, like law-enforcement officers or people who live or work in really bad neighborhoods, may have specific risks that martial arts can help them address. For the rest of us…it’s a great hobby.  It’s nice to feel like a badass.  It’s good for bonding with people.  Discipline, strength, confidence…it’s a hobby (or lifestyle, or obsession) worth pursuing. I can’t recommend it highly enough.  Many martial artists train for those reasons, for sport, or just because it’s fun.  Wonderful reasons.

But the “self-protection” delusion is a problem.  I would like to see that delusion sliced open and its guts strewn in the dirt: in martial artists, in school marketing, and in the general population.  I would like to see women’s self-defense training that addresses the real risks taught more widely, and see things that are not women’s self-defense marketed accurately “women-only martial arts class” rather than “women’s self-defense” for instance.   

It’s a big problem. Specifically, it’s a huge problem for women, whose risk profile is entirely different from men’s.  Women are led to believe and trust that by studying martial arts they will be safer from the risks they face, and that is at best a very small partial truth and at worst outright wrong.

When men come to martial arts to learn how to fight off an attacker, it’s an active shooter, a violent mugger, a carjacker, or a drunk in a bar.  Risks that (other than the aforementioned LE officers and people in sketchy neighborhoods) they are beyond unlikely to face. For most people those are some of the least likely actual risks in their lives.  Giving up fried food, taking a defensive-driving class, and updating an eyeglass prescription would eliminate more risk from most people’s lives than decades of martial arts training.

So the harm to men from martial arts training is that they get a great hobby with a lot of benefits, for reasons that are mistaken.  That’s even sometimes acknowledged among us, that we have to be crazy to do this stuff when it’s almost certain never to be needed. 

When women, however, come with the purpose of learning self-protection, it’s sexual assault and abuse that they’re worried about.  “I want to learn to protect myself” means “I want to feel safe from rape.”   That’s where the delusion becomes a problem.  A big problem.  

Martial arts training is a hammer, which makes every “protection” problem a nail.   Everyone has heard “the vast majority of sexual assaults are committed by someone the woman is acquainted with.”   But when women sign up for a martial arts program, what they’re getting is stranger-attack skills.  In the real world, women’s acquaintances are not hiding in the bushes or in deserted parking lots to leap out and subdue their friends.   Spending just a little time thinking about the on-the-mat skills taught in almost every martial arts school anywhere, and comparing with the scenarios encountered routinely by 1:4 women in their teens and twenties shows the obvious.  That isn’t training for the risks those women will encounter.

Assault by friends, boyfriends, husbands, co-workers, teachers, bosses, and relatives, the monumental majority of assaults inflicted on women, start with emotional manipulation.  Controlling behavior.  Envelope-pushing behavior. Boundary erosion.  Manipulation.  Creation of ambiguity.  Drugging of drinks. Encouraging of more alcohol or drug use than a woman intends.  Undermining confidence and self-worth.  A vast array of behaviors that can make an assault into a loathsome morass, a situation where punching and kicking are worthless. Different skills are needed.  

Kayla Harrison is an example of exactly that.  She was already a gifted Judoka when she was assaulted.  If anyone could defend herself with martial arts, probably even as a small child, it would have been Kayla Harrison.  If martial arts skills are supposed to apply to acquaintance rape, and she couldn’t apply them, then people with no athletic skill walking in to a random school a couple of days a week surely can’t.  But that wasn’t the problem.  Kayla’s skills were not the problem.  Many women martial artists are raped every year in spite of their belts, training, and ability to put a foot directly through a man’s abdomen.   Martial arts skills are the wrong tool for that situation.  Totally and completely wrong.

Knowing what skills are needed starts with risk analysis.  Risk analysis is something woefully deficient in most martial arts training. Most martial arts instructors enjoy various combinations of: punching, kicking, grappling, throws, chokes, locks…they enjoy sparring, rolling, using various weapons, they enjoy winning.  This is what those folks are great at, they love it, and they teach it. Looking beyond that takes a lot of effort.  The easier thing for people who have a subject they love is to believe that it can solve all problems.  The hammer.

When it comes to studying, martial arts instructors might enjoy looking at old scrolls, or watching video of other martial artists, reading books about martial arts. When they research “modern attacks” they watch video of inmate interviews describing stranger attacks and how victims are chosen.  They watch security video of knifings and shootings.  Unless they’re the guy who wrote “The Gift of Fear,” (Gavin DeBecker…good stuff…read that) they rarely study the “Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report” or study women’s risk profiles from other sources.

Studying martial arts the usual ways means reinforcing teaching martial arts the usual ways, and the delusion that martial arts can protect from “attacks.”  Regardless of the reality.   Delusion is like that.

But some martial artists are women.  And women are a great target demographic.  And sometimes, the need for “something else” breaks through the comfortable idea that if you are just good enough at punching and kicking, then all situations can be handled.

Enter “Ladies’ Self-Defense.”  Almost every martial arts school sometimes offers a women’s self-defense class.   Sometimes it’s even taught by women students or instructors.  And that’s where things get complicated.  Those classes are almost always intended just to bring in new students.  They serve a good purpose: an easy on-ramp to martial arts training.   We know that women often find it hard to walk in the door to martial arts, and such a ramp is a big help.  

But it also reinforces the delusion.

Advertised as “women’s self-defense,” the classes generally just teach a women-only version of whatever the school usually teaches.  Maybe a pink-washed version.  Maybe with “make this a slap instead of a punch,” or a hair-pull tossed in.  But really, it’s just the same stuff.  No different in addressing real risk for women than for men.  Nothing “women’s” about the self-defense except that no men are in the class.

Sometimes there are classes in real women’s self-defense though.  That does exist.  Almost exclusively taught by women, and mostly not teaching any physical techniques at all.  Once in a while it even comes from a martial arts school.  Women who train sometimes go out of their way to learn women’s risks, to learn and develop curricula to address those risks.  Books and classes are out there.  But from the perspective of a woman with no background, there’s no distinction between a pink-washed regular martial arts class and a serious women’s self-defense program.

Women coming in off the streets with no expertise, and just a vague idea  “I want to be safer” encounter confident martial artists who think that their hammer can address any nail (pun fully intended).  Those women can spend years and thousands of dollars learning skills that don’t address their real risks. They may love their art, they may become Kayla Harrison, they may never regret walking in the door of their school…but they’re not learning what they came to learn.

The troublesome part of this is that many women who train in a martial art know all of this.  We have been saying this for a long time.   We care about women’s risks and the very alarming occurrences of those risks. (Comparing men who are unlikely to ever be attacked in any way with women who have a 25% chance of violent attack in their lifetime is stark).  We study, we read, we learn in other contexts.  In my case, I learned about women’s self-defense through a comprehensive sexuality education curriculum when I was 13, and again in my twenties when I became certified to teach that curriculum.  I learned more in training to become a Crisis Response Advocate for sexual assault and domestic abuse survivors.  I learned by reading real research and talking with real survivors (many of whom are fellow martial artists).  I know many other women martial artists and instructors who have sought out that information and those skills.  We learn that specialty, and we sound like broken records talking about the need to teach real women’s self-defense.

But schools still mostly don’t teach those skills.  The delusion of “martial arts makes you safer” persists.  One reason is that it is vaguely true that martial arts makes you safer.  The “learning-to-fall-safely,” the “longer-life-through-exercise.”  The reduction of already-infinitesimal risk of stranger attacks that apply to men and women.  Those things are real.  Not that important, not that useful, but real.

Also, it’s easy for the (mostly male) senior people who run schools and styles to pass off their female students’ concerns with an occasional seminar.  That feels like enough for a concern that doesn’t seem real to them.  They have no personal stake.  They’ve never guarded their drink like Fort Knox.  They’ve never known a dozen friends who have been pressured into sex by people they trusted and thought “that could have been me.” Never faced losing a job or a home if they didn’t sleep with someone.  Risks for other people are easy to pass off.

Martial arts Instructors feel like warrior protectors, who think that if they are with a woman she is safe.  Which is the diametric opposite of the real risk analysis which says that a woman is safer walking alone than with a male acquaintance (don’t take that as advice).  Those men can believe in their punching-and-kicking hammer, wholeheartedly, as a panacea, point at the “women’s self-defense” class (that isn’t women’s self-defense) and be annoyed by the insistent nattering of the women students or junior Instructors who say otherwise.  Badgered to think uncomfortable thoughts when they could stay on solid comfortable ground instead.

There are other reasons. Economic reasons.  It doesn’t pay for most martial arts schools to let students think too hard about real risk analysis.  Some places teach an art that is beautiful and has nothing to do with self-defense, and the school doesn’t pretend it does.  I’m guessing that a Zen Archery teacher presented with a prospective student who said “I want to learn to protect myself” would point the prospect in another direction.  But in schools purporting to teach modern defense…either the instructors don’t know what the real risks are, or they just don’t want to think too hard about it.  They want to cling to the idea that “martial arts makes you safer” and take the money. They probably even believe it and are just bad at math.

I prefer the Macy’s approach. Sending a prospective student elsewhere if what they need isn’t in the house.  Honesty and integrity and cutting through delusion.  If a woman comes looking for risk-reduction, and a martial arts school doesn’t offer real women’s self-defense, then sending the prospect to a class at a Crisis Response organization, or even another martial arts school (if there is one teaching those actual skills nearby) is a way to get more students, a better reputation, and loyalty from their own women students.  Doing otherwise is a breakdown in integrity, a crack in the facade that can run deep.

There are worse reasons. Some schools are run by men who have no business running anything.  Men who see the women in their school as their personal dating pool, or worse.  Men like Kayla Harrison’s early teacher.  A far-too-common thing in an industry full of alpha-males and narcissists.  Those men have zero interest in teaching women to protect themselves from the emotional manipulation they use.  The mindsets of those men could be a book all its own. We don’t like to talk about that, but Kayla Harrison’s situation isn’t as uncommon as it should be.

The most innocuous reason for this delusion is that schools teach certain skills, the people running them may not get into heavy discussions about the whys and wherefores with their students. Many schools are fun, happy places where deep discussion isn’t a thing.   It’s just “caveat emptor.”  People need to do some research before they sign up to spend a lot of time and money on a hobby, to make sure it’s a hobby that will serve their actual needs.

But what is the harm?  People train in a martial art, maybe get a black-belt even.  Enjoy themselves.  Make friends.  Feel like a badass.  Look cool.  They exercise.  They get discipline, and self-control, and endurance.  Martial arts is an outstanding, awesome hobby that I personally think everyone on earth should try.  It’s been a major life-changing thing for me.  If an acquaintance says “I’m thinking about martial arts” they get from me “YES, you should do it! You’ll love it!”  So where is the harm?   This article is about the harm.  

If you try to buy a car, and you get a giant cake shaped like a car, you might love the heck out of that cake…but it’s not what you paid for.  If you then try to drive somewhere in an emergency, you’re screwed.  (Please substitute a better analogy in your head).   

If a woman, (or the parents of a girl) walk into a school and say “I’d like to learn to protect myself” or “I’d like to make sure that my daughter can defend herself,” and everyone involved knows that they mean “I want (for her) to be safe from rape” and the school takes thousands of their dollars over the years without teaching them easily-acquired skills that will make them appreciably safer from that risk…that’s a harm.  

Even if the women become badass black-belts.  Even if they love training.  Even if they wouldn’t trade that time in for anything else.  They still didn’t get what they paid for, and in the 1:4 chance that they encounter a situation they’re not prepared for, they are screwed.  That is the harm.  That’s a failure of unconscionable proportions.

But there are more insidious harms as well.  Some of those women and girls are exposed to those narcissist teachers who exploit them.  Many of them will go about their lives and suffer acquaintance-rape.  When that happens, my experience has been that it’s been worse for women martial artists than for other women in some ways. The difference between “I couldn’t protect myself” and “I should have been able to protect myself and I failed” is crushing.  

One benefit of martial arts can be a feeling of almost super-hero-like ability to handle whatever is thrown at you.  It’s a positive, and a negative.  It reinforces the idea that martial arts is a hammer and every kind of problem is a nail.  Because we train, we can do anything.  Confidence helps us solve problems, but not all problems can be solved that way.

People who train to punch and kick on mats in an air-conditioned and well-lit school don’t suddenly have skills that make them safe walking blindly down a mountain in the middle of the night, or the ability to whip a perfect merengue, or to perform an appendectomy, or to spot the red flags that often signal a controlling relationship that can lead to sexual assault and abuse.  Specialized skills require specialized training.  

Martial artists like us really want to believe, as our instructors do, that the skills we’ve acquired through years of blood, sweat, and tears will serve us in many ways.  They do.  But they don’t substitute for other training.   And when women (or girls) who have learned to beat the tar out of an opponent on a mat feel that they are safe from rape, and then it happens, that is crushing.  It immediately undermines belief in themselves painstakingly built on a foundation of martial arts training.  They suddenly go from walking through the world as a black-belt to feeling like a victim and a failure.   This is not the fault of the woman, it is the delusion perpetuated by martial arts school culture and an abject failure to teach them the tools they need to protect themselves from easily-predictable and common attacks they are likely to encounter.  

Putting aside the men and women law enforcement officers and the people who live or work in dangerous neighborhoods; men who train in martial arts are studying because it’s a hobby, not because it’s a sensible use of resources to make them safer.  Men mostly don’t need martial arts.  Women have a high risk profile.  We can expect that 1:4 will be raped, and mostly that will happen when they are in their late teens or early twenties.  Women need appropriate training and the knowledge and skills to be taught are readily available. Martial arts schools routinely fail to serve the demographic that needs them most and schools lead women to believe that they are getting what they need to protect themselves.

All of this for a delusion.  The path with integrity is this: First and foremost, Instructors need to recognize that women’s self-defense is a specialized skill set, and not one that comes from being a black-belt in any normal martial art.  It’s not shameful for men who teach martial arts to acknowledge that they need to learn new skills or outsource some training for the good of their school.

Those skills can benefit all students.  Emotional manipulation happens in many contexts, to men and to women.  Male students would benefit from learning women’s self-defense tools.  It would make them better partners, instructors, and human beings.  

Regular training needs translation.  Don’t assume that just because regular techniques can be interpreted to apply in different situations that students will be able to do that on the fly in an emergency.  Training needs to be interpreted on the mat, in safe environment, before it’s needed in the real world.

Marketing needs to have integrity.  Women’s classes are not “women’s self-defense” unless they actually are teaching skills specific to women’s risks.  Classes can still be easy ways to get women into training without misrepresentation.

The cost of integrity is getting out of the comfort zone, stepping into uncomfortable territory, and cutting through ego-driven delusion.  In theory, that’s what martial arts is about.  Fixing this longstanding culture delusion would be a huge change, and a huge opportunity to cut through delusion, do the right thing and demonstrate the value martial arts actually brings to our lives.