one day i will be quality to follow. until then. have these

anonymous asked:

Hey, you're awesome, thanks for existing, basically ^_^ Anyway, I wanted to know if you have any tips on how to write different personalities? My characters (all of them) always end up with the same default personality that I fall back on. Thanks!

Thanks for your question, darling!  I think most of us have struggled with this – after all, we’re conditioned to one way of thinking, feeling, and acting for as long as we live.  That doesn’t necessarily mean we write characters like ourselves, though.  In fact, many of us have a “default character” that’s sassier than we are, sweeter than we are, or in some way different enough from us that we still feel like we’re writing a character.

The problem, then, isn’t that we can’t visualize a different personality than ours.  On the whole, we can.  What we’re missing are the small details that make it feel whole – otherwise, it’s like painting the same room six different colors and trying to pass it off as six different rooms.  Different dominant traits can’t hide the fact that you’re working with one template!

So the question we’re left with: what are the traits we’re missing?  And how can we change them to create a unique and whole personality?


Three Types of Character Traits

There are, as the title suggests, three major categories of personality traits as I see it: fundamental traits, acquired traits, and detrimental traits.  A well-rounded character needs some of each to be three-dimensional and realistic.

Fundamental Traits

The fundamental traits of a person’s character are not as simple as interests and preferences; they are the very base of all decisions and desires.  They are either learned in early life or developed over a long period of time, rooting deeply into the personality.  A few examples of fundamental personality traits include:

  • Upbringing – The word choice here is conscious, as upbringing encompasses many different aspects of a person’s development.  Consider who raised them, and with what morals and practices they were raised to adulthood.  Consider their influences, both familial, social, and in media; consider the relationships that were normalized during their development, as well as the living conditions (financially, emotionally, environmentally, etc.).  The people, places, emotions, and conflicts made common during a person’s developmental period are essential to their personality in adulthood.  This is why psychologists often draw present-day problems back to a person’s childhood memories – because those formative years can subconsciously dictate so much of a person’s future!
  • Values – These may not coincide with the values a person is raised to hold, but upbringing certainly has an influence on this. A person’s values will direct the course of their life through every decision, large and small.  You don’t need to outline everything your character believes is important – every moral and every law they agree/disagree with. But those values which stand above others will give your character purpose.  A few of my favorite examples are: Jane from Jane the Virgin (whose initial storyline is heavily based on her religion and desire for a beautiful love story, as well as her childhood influences who inspired these values) and Han Solo from Star Wars (whose character development rested upon his values shifting from money and gratification to more honorable things).
  • Beliefs – Different from values, beliefs are a more general set of guidelines for how a person believes things are supposed to be.  Beliefs can also be a source of great conflict, as a character tries to stay aligned with their beliefs despite other values or desires.  These beliefs can be established systems, like religion or politics; they can also include more personal belief systems, like nihilism or veganism.  A characters beliefs, like their values, can change over the course of the story – but even if a character is questioning one system of belief, like religion or pacifism, they should have other belief systems in place to govern some of their activity.
  • Reputation – A lot of human activity, whether consciously or not, is dictated by how others perceive them (or how they believe others perceive them).  There are two types of reputation: personal and passing.  For instance, a woman named Sally who gains a personal reputation of sleeping around will behave in reaction to this reputation – either sleeping around because everyone already expects it of her, or specifically not hooking up because she wants to shake this reputation, or developing a thicker skin to deal with the rumors until it passes.  A man named Billy who, because of his tattoos, bears a passing reputation as an intimidating man will either try to soften his demeanor with strangers, own up to the image, or at least learn to expect judgment from strangers as a consequence.
  • Self-Image – Also relevant to a person’s behavior is the way they perceive themselves, which can often have little to do with their reputation.  A lot of self-image is based on definitive moments or phases in the past.  For instance: for several years after I started wearing contacts and cutting my hair, I still saw myself, in dreams at night, with long hair and glasses.  One of my friends, similarly, could not seem to notice when boys would flirt with her during sophomore year – because she still saw herself as an awkward middle schooler with braces, and not as the charming cheerleader with the great smile.
    Inversely, self-image can be inflated, causing character to behave as though they are funnier, smarter, or more prepared than they truly are (see: the rest of my sophomore acquaintances).  This can be an overlooked character flaw opportunity – or flawportunity…

Originally posted by alliefallie


Acquired Traits

Now we move on to the acquired traits of personality, which are the ones you’re more likely to find on a character sheet or a list of “10 Questions for Character Development”, alongside a million other things like their zodiac sign and their spirit animal.  But the traits I’m about to outline are a little more relevant to a character’s behavior, and more importantly, how to make this behavior unique from other characters’ behavior.  The following traits will be learned by your characters throughout their life (and their story), and are more likely to shift and grow with time:

  • Interests – I know, I had to reach deep down into my soul to think of this one.  But it’s true!  Interests, both in childhood/adolescence and in adulthood, are an important part of a character’s personality and lifestyle.  Childhood interests both reveal something about the character (for instance: my nephew loves trains, Legos, and building, suggesting a future interest in construction or engineering) and create values that can last for a lifetime.  Current interests affect career choice, social circles, and daily activity for everyone.  Forgotten or rejected interests can be the source of pet peeves, fears, or bad memories. There’s a reason I’ll never play with Polly Pockets again, and it 100% has to do with bloody fingertips and a purse that wouldn’t open.
  • Sense of Humor – This can be a little hard to define, understandably.  If you were to ask me what my sense of humor is, I’d probably start with a few stupid memes, pass by Drake & Josh on the way, and somehow wind up telling you bad puns or quoting Chelsea Peretti’s standup comedy. A person’s sense of humor can be complex and contradictory!  Sometimes we just laugh at stuff because someone said it in a funny way.  But anyway, to help you boil this down to something useful: take a look at a few kinds of comedy and relate it to your character’s maturity level.  Do they laugh when someone lets out a toot?  Are they the kind of person to mutter, “That’s what she said,” or simply try not to laugh when something sounds dirty?  Can puns make them crack a smile?  Do they like political humor?  Do cat videos kill them?  Is their humor particularly dark?  Can the mere sound of someone else laughing make them laugh?  Figure out where your character’s sense of humor is, and you’ll feel closer to them already.
  • Pet Peeves – For every interest a person may have, and everything that makes them laugh, there’s something else that can piss them off, large- or small-scale.  Are they finnicky about their living space and neatness? Do they require a lot of privacy? Do certain sounds or behaviors drive them crazy?  What qualities are intolerable in a romantic interest for them? What kind of comments or beliefs make them roll their eyes?  If you need help, just try imagining their worst enemy – someone whose every word or action elicits the best eye-rolls and sarcastic remarks and even a middle finger or two – and ask yourself, what about this person makes them that mortal enemy?  What behaviors or standards make them despicable to your character?  That’s all it takes.
  • Skills – Everybody has them, and they’re not just something we’re born with.  Skills can be natural talent, sure, but they’re also cultivated from time, values, and interests.  What is your character okay at?  What are they good at?  What are they fantastic at?  Maybe they can cook.  Maybe they have a beautiful eye for colors.  Maybe they have an inherent sense of right and wrong that others admire. Maybe they’re super-athletic or incredibly patient or sharp as a tack or sweet as a cupcake.  Maybe they know how to juggle, or maybe they’re secretly the most likely of all their friends to survive a zombie apocalypse.  Where do they shine?  What would make someone look at them and think, “Wow, I wish I were them right now”?
  • Desires – A good way to “separate” one character from the next is to define what it is they want, and then use every other detail to dictate how they pursue that goal.  Every real person has a desire, whether they’ve defined it or not – whether it’s something huge, like fame or a family of five with triplet girls and a beach house on an island, or something small, like good grades for the semester.  These desires can cause a person to revise their values or forsake their morals; and these desires can conflict with other people’s desires, influencing how people interact with each other.  Remember that every character is living their own story, even if it’s not the story you’re telling.
  • Communication Style – A majorly overlooked character trait in pop fiction is unique communication styles.  Having every character feel comfortable arguing, or bursting out with the words, “I love you,” is unrealistic.  Having every character feel paralyzed at the idea of confronting a bully or being honest to their spouse is also unrealistic.  There should be a healthy mix of communicators in a group of characters. Some people are too softspoken to mouth off at their racist lab partner.  Some people wouldn’t see their girlfriend kissing another guy and just walk away without saying something.  Some people just don’t react to conflict by raising their voice; some people enjoy sharing their opinions or giving the correct answer in class.  Boldness, social skills, and emotional health all have a part to play in how people communicate their thoughts – so keep this in mind to create a more realistic, consistent character.
  • Emotional Expression – Along the same lines but not the same, emotional expression is more focal on feelings than thoughts.  If you’ve ever heard of the fight-or-flight response, the different types of anger, the stages of grief, or the five love languages, then you’re aware of different “classifications” of emotional expression and management.  Read up on some of those things, and think about how your character handles emotions like happiness, sadness, fear, anger, loneliness, paranoia, and so forth.

Detrimental Traits

While acquired traits are certainly more enjoyable to brainstorm during the creation process, detrimental traits are as important – or even more important – to the character’s wholeness as well as their role in the story.  Not only do these negative or limiting traits make your character realistic, relatable, and conflicted – they create a need for other characters and their strengths to move the plot forward.  A few examples of detrimental traits include:

  • Flaws – Character flaws are probably the first thing that came to your mind while reading this, but they’re the essence of the category.  Flaws in a character’s personality, morality, or behavior can be a source of character development; they set an individual on their own path and provide a unique motivation for them.  Having Character A struggle with sobriety while Character B learns to be a more patient mother can do a lot to separate their stories and personalities from each other.  Even if certain flaws don’t reach a point of growth, they create a third aspect to personality and force us, as writers, to be more creative with how our characters get from Point A to Point B, and what they screw up along the way.
  • Fears – Everyone has fears, whether we’re conscious of them or not – and I’m not talking about phobias or “things that give you shivers”.  Just like everyone has a primary motivation throughout life (romance, family, success, meaning, peace of mind, etc.), everyone has a fear behind that motivation (loneliness, failure, emptiness, anxiety).  We all have something we don’t want to happen places we never want to be and things we never want to do.  We’ve all been in situations that mildly bothered others but wildly affected us at the same time.  For me, it’s a lack of autonomy, or in any way being forced to do something or be somewhere against my will.
    What does this mean for me?  It means that when other people have nightmares about being chased by an axe murderer, I have nightmares about being kidnapped and locked up.  It means that I’m continually aware of my “escape plan” if something goes wrong in my living situation, and I’m hypersensitive to someone telling me, “You have to do this.”  It means I struggle to follow rules and usually don’t get along with authority figures because I have to assert my independence to them.  It’s irrational and continual and doesn’t just affect me in one situation; it subconsciously directs my steps if I let it.  That’s how real, guttural fears work. Phobias are only skin deep, and they don’t make you feel any closer to the character.

Originally posted by giantmonster

  • Secrets – Even goody two-shoes Amber from the swim team, with her blonde blonde hair and her good good grades, has a secret.  Everybody does, even if it’s not a purposeful, “I have a deep, dark secret,” sort of secret. We have things we don’t tell people, just because they’re embarrassing, or painful, or too deep to get into, or they don’t paint us in a good light.  While the secrets themselves tell a lot about a person, so do the reasons a person keeps a secret.  Hiding something out of shame suggests a person is prideful, or critical of themselves, or holds themselves to a higher standard than they hold others.  Hiding something painful suggests that the person struggles to handle sadness or regret, or that they feel uncomfortable showing raw emotion in front of loved ones. And so on and so forth.
  • Conflict – Whether internal, interpersonal, legal, moral, societal, or what have you, conflict will limit your character’s actions at every turn.  A story is nothing without conflict driving the plot in different directions and causing your character to rethink both their plans and their lifestyle.  Without Katniss’s moral conflict over killing other tributes, The Hunger Games would be the story of a girl who entered an arena, killed a lot of people, and lived the rest of her life rich and comfortable.  If Luke Skywalker didn’t have interpersonal conflict with Darth Vader, Star Wars would be the war-story of a guy who joined a rebellion and then… yeah.
  • Health – Physical, mental, and emotional health is a huge limiting factor for characters that often goes untouched, but it’s valuable nonetheless.  Not everyone has a clean bill of health and can jump off trains without pulling a muscle, go through a traumatic life experience without any hint of depression or anxiety, or watch a loved one die in gunfire and shove right on without emotional repercussions. Consider creating a character who’s not perfect – who isn’t perfectly in-shape or abled, or neurotypical or stable day-to-day, or completely clean and clear of residual heartache, unhealthy relationships, or bad emotional habits.  Don’t define them by these traits, of course – but don’t feel that you can’t write a character with health issues without writing a “sick character.”

So this post got ridiculously long, but I hope it works as a reference for you when creating unique characters.  Remember that you don’t need to outline all of this information to create an individual, realistic character.  These are just some relevant ideas to get you started!  It’s up to you, as the writer, to decide what’s necessary and what’s excessive for your creative process.

Still, I hope a majority of this is helpful to you!  If you have any more questions, be sure to send them in and we’ll get back to you :)  Good luck!

- Mod Joanna ♥️


If you need advice on general writing or fanfiction, you should maybe ask us!

This is for @uncannycookie since I asked if they wanted anything and they requested something about Mob going with Teruki to get his ears pierced, so here it is!

But then I also found I wanted to do the entire scene and I didn’t have time to draw it all so… I wrote fanfiction for the first time in my entire life. Writing is very much not my forte so I hope I didn’t make too many mistakes. I just thought it was a cute fluffy scene. Ummm, I hope you like it! *screaming over writing*


“You didn’t have to come you know,” Teruki said as he opened the door, a bell gently chiming above them. “It’s going to be fairly quick to get done.” He held the door open for Mob before shutting it behind them, leaving behind a crisp Autumn day and becoming encased in the warm, dark interior of the shop.

Keep reading

Reaper: Chapter Two

His hand was warm.

Isa pulled me to my feet. “Just a second,” he said, scanning the area.

I didn’t feel dead. I could feel the wind on my skin and my heart hammering in my chest. My hands were trembling with adrenaline. That had to be a good sign.

“Kat,” Isa said, startling me. I had been staring at my hands so intently that I hadn’t noticed he was holding out his hand to me again.

“I’m not dead,” I informed him a bit giddily, taking his hand again.

Isa didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled. “This way,” he said, pointing with his free hand. I looked, but he seemed to be pointing towards thin air.

He led me away from the broken highway and my silver car, wading through the faded brown grass. After about twenty yards he stopped and turned to me.

“I need you to think of a place,” he said, “Any place.”

My mind went blank. “Any place?”

“Anywhere. Visualize it in your mind. Got it?” I hesitated before nodding. “Good. Now we’re going to take one more step together.”

I looked at the grass before us. It didn’t look any different from any other patch of grass we’d passed. I drew a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“And go.”

As we stepped forward together, the air went…soft. Like a deep, thick mattress. Like holding an overripe peach in your hands and slowly pressing in your thumbs, letting them sink into it. Not hot or cold or anything like that. Just soft.

Less than a moment passed before the softness was gone; I didn’t even have time to blink. We were still standing in the grass by the highway. I could see my car close by and the mountains looming in the distance. But the edges of the mountains were vague and unclear, and the light that filtered through the clouds was tinted red, almost as though it was shining through rose-colored glass. More telling was the quiet. The wind had disappeared, and the grass was silent and still.

“You know,” Isa commented, “I think people usually choose somewhere other than the place they’re currently standing.”

“I panicked,” I responded, taking in everything around me, “Which seems to be my basic state of existence at this point.”

Unlike everything else, Isa seemed more real than ever. The basics were still the same: pale, ashy skin stretched tight over his body, white hair, and jet black eyes set deep in their sockets. His fingers and limbs were overly long for his body, and he was wearing a black hooded coat with loose sleeves, grey pants, boots, and a t-shirt with a vintage ad for spam.

However, his skin lacked the translucent quality it usually had, and his shadow -

“You have a shadow,” I blurted out, “You have a - the grass. You’re actually crushing down the grass.” I knelt down and confirmed for myself that yes, the grass could be pressed down, and then I turned around and thrust out my hand. The softness was waiting just feet behind me. “Where are we?”

“This is an inbetween place,” he replied, watching as I shuffled a few feet to the side and stuck out my hand again, “We needed somewhere safe to talk.”

I pulled my hand from the softness and tried again. “And the deserted highway wasn’t cutting it?”

Isa pressed his lips together. “It’s not humans that I’m worried about overhearing us.”

I paused mid thrust. “Oh.” The fear which had almost been forgotten in my wonder flared up.

“Here,” Isa said, and he took my hand again, leading me around whatever invisible portal we had passed through. Almost mindlessly I walked towards the car.

“Are we safe here, then?”

He shrugged. “Should be. I don’t think I was followed - there’s no good reason anyone would, really, I’m not a major player. But it’s not wise to talk about these things in the open on principle.”

We reached the car, and I stretched out my hand to touch it. It was solid under my fingers, but the numbers on the license plate were scrambled, changing every time I blinked. 

Isa stopped me as I went to open the driver’s side door.

"I just wanted to see if it would start,” I said.

Isa shook his head. “It might, but it’s not wise to go through any doors here. There’s no telling where you might end up.”

A little disappointed, I perched on the trunk instead, pulling up my legs and wrapping my arms around them. Isa stood before me, hands shoved in his pockets.

“So…” I started, Isa looking at me expectantly, “Are you an angel?”

Isa burst out laughing. It was an odd sound, out of place in the unnatural silence of the inbetween.

“No, and I wouldn’t let an angel hear you say that if I were you. Actually, it would probably be fine; most angels I’ve met are quite nice. But trust me, if you ever meet an angel, you’ll know it. People tend to fall over when they show up.”

“Okay, not an angel.” There went half the theories I’d ever read. “Then what are you? And don’t say a reaper.”

“I never really liked that name anyway,” he replied. He kicked the ground for a moment, thinking. “I’m the guardian of your soul. I’ve been with you since your soul first joined your body. I will ensure no one touches it until your life is complete.”

“…And when my life is complete?”

“I take your soul,” he answered nonchalantly, “ - Kat?”

I rolled off the car, running into the field, running towards the softness.

Maybe he wasn’t an angel after all. But there were other theories about the reapers.

“Kat?” he called after me, “I’m not taking your soul here and now.”

I stumbled to a stop in a panic. The grass all looked the same. Whatever gateway we’d walked through wasn’t marked by any kind of visual cue. I was effectively trapped.

“Maybe you’re not taking it now,” I said as I turned, arms tight by my sides, hands clenched, “but you’re going to.”

Isa walked towards me slowly, “That probably wasn’t the best way for me to phrase that.” I shrank away from him instinctively, and he sighed. “This would be easier if I was an angel. They’re good at explaining things. Can I try again?”

He waited until I nodded hesitantly.

“I’m the guardian of your soul. I was bound to you the moment your soul entered your body. While you live, I’ll protect your soul from harm. When your days are complete, I’ll carry your soul to its rest. I’m not going to kill you, consume your soul, drain your life force, steal your corporeal form,  keep you in a tortured disembodied state devoid of all sensation, or anything else of that kind.”

I stared at him. “That’s…really specific.”

“But you’re not running this time,” Isa noted.

“If you’re lying, I’m screwed anyway,” I retorted.

“Ah.” Isa’s body seemed to droop ever so slightly. “I liked it better when you just trusted me.”

“And I liked it better when I wasn’t afraid I was going crazy,” I snapped. I shut my eyes and paused, willing myself to breath deeply. “I’m tired. I’m stressed and exhausted and I have no clue what’s going on. You disappeared for two weeks and I didn’t even know reapers could do that, and now you’re talking and you touched me and I’m somehow not dead and we’re in a freaking alternate dimension or something and it’s just a bit much.”

“I didn’t intend to let things get this out of hand,” Isa admitted, “I only thought I’d be gone for a few hours at most.”

Finally, the question that had been burning in my chest for weeks. “What happened? Why did you leave?”

“There was a reaper who needed help. He and his human were being targeted, and they weren’t going to make it.”

“Are they okay?”

His face brightened a bit. “They are. The woman died and he was able to deliver her soul safely.”

“Your definition of a happy ending and mine are a little different,” I muttered, “What did they need protection from?”

Isa looked grim. “There are many beings who would want to misuse a human soul,” he said softly, “And there are others who would like nothing more than to see a reaper give into the temptation to take advantage of their charge. Some of these were attacking this reaper in the hope of either claiming the soul for themselves or, if nothing else, forcing the reaper into a position where he drew on the soul for power. I thought they’d back off once I came to his aid, but they fought until the end.”

Behind Isa’s shoulder, I saw something like a dark smudge on the horizon where the mountains met the sky. A horrible sense of wrongness settled in my gut.

“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long,” he continued, “And it shouldn’t -”

“Isa,” I interrupted, pointing urgently, “There’s something here.”

Isa turned to look. The smudge was getting larger. “No,” he said, “No no no no!” He grabbed my hand.

“We need to move now!” He took off across the field, dragging me behind him. We passed through the softness and the world shifted, the rosy light turning grey. We sprinted back to my car.

I looked back towards the mountains. I couldn’t see anything.

“Get in the car,” Isa ordered, and I hurried to do so. After buckling myself in, I looked up to see Isa pull out a gun.

“Drive home as fast as you can,” he said, ignoring my shock, “And don’t stop until I say so.” With that, he swung himself onto the roof of my car.

I turned on the car and made a U-turn, pressing the pedal to the floor. A minute later gun shots rang out, and I looked into the mirror to see something burst through the portal and hurtle down the broken highway in pursuit.

Hospital Jargon (as explained by an American floor nurse)

Writing something that takes place in a hosptial? Consider this list of phrases to add a sense of realism:

HOSPITAL LIFE:

Report/ in report: When one nurse hands their patients off to another

PACU can f*ck right off until 1930, we’re in report.

Sign-Out: When one doctor/resident hands their patients off to another

*returning page* “Are they dying? I’ve barely gotten sign-out here

EPIC- Electronic charting system. Literally any electronic charting system. Does not have to be Hyperspace/supplied by the EPIC corporation to be called this.

Hey, could you put those vitals in EPIC for me since you’re already logged in?

Bed 45/46-2/47-1/48/etc…: how we refer to patients, by their bedspace number, denoted “room-bed”.

Hey Nikki, do you remember what 45-2′s blood sugar was?

Assignment: The patients any one particular medical professional has responsibility for- be they a nurse, doctor, aide, respiratory therapist, physical therapist, etc…

My assignment is rooms 43-45, how about you?

The Board: Where the status of the patients on your floor get listed, including who is to be discharged, who has certain needs, and the day’s expected admissions. Used to be a physical white board, but now is electronic. Usually used to talk about how many patients a floor is about to admit.

“Jeeze, did you see they just put four new patients on our board? We’ve already got 16- call the nursing supervisor.”

Flexed up: Taking more patients than you’re staffed for on a floor

Well, we’re staffed for 15, but they ‘found’ three more bedspaces so they’re flexing us up tonight.

Code/Call a code/They’re coding: A Code Blue. When a patient’s heart stops on The Floor and everyone shows up to practice CPR and transfer them to The Unit.

They’re coding, get a crash cart to 75-2 and call a code blue

Rapid/Call a rapid/Rapid response team: Almost a code, but their heart is still beating. For hospitals who have a separate “Rapid Response” nursing team. Two Crit Care nurses show up and handle things. Also who you call if you and everyone else on your floor can’t get an IV.

They have an INR of 9.5 and the doc doesn’t want to do anything- I’m gonna call a rapid.

Float/they’re floating you: When you don’t have enough patients on your floor so the nursing supervisor sends you to a different, unfamiliar one.

They’re making me float to 9C. Again. Can you believe that??

Full: Can’t take any more patients, either due to physical space or nursing staff.

Tell the nursing supervisor to stop putting patients on our board- we’re full

Clinic: Outpatient. Where you want your patients to be.

Tell them we’ll see them in Clinic in three days. They have no medical need to be here anymore and they know it.

KINDS OF PATIENTS:

Contacts/isolations: Any patients who’s rooms you have to don a gown, gloves, mask, and/or respirator to enter.

Are you sh*tting me? I have five patients today and four of them are isolations.

Frequent flyer- Someone who, for medical or social reasons, just can’t seem to stay out of the hospital

Did you hear Darlene is back?” “Yeah, we’re officially engraving her name on the Frequent Flyer wall of fame

Crump/Crumpy/Crumper: Colloquial term for patients who are medically unstable/at a lower level of care than they need/will be transferred to The Unit when a bed becomes available or when the inevitably code, whichever comes first.

73′s a crumper if I’ve ever seen one. Rapid’s in there working her now.

‘Seeker: Someone in the hospital with their own agenda, but who largely has no medical need to be there and will threaten to sign out AMA (even though they’ve been discharged four times and keep refusing to go) if they don’t get what they want- be it drugs, social interaction, or over-the-top waitressing. Will probably threaten to give a horrible review of the hospital on their social media platform of choice and mention you by name if they don’t get what they want.

49′s a total seeker. When she’s not begging for pain meds, you’re getting her crackers, juice, tea, hot packs, cold packs, everything you could think of. I didn’t sit down all night and my other patients slept pretty much the whole night. Give her some percocet and get her the hell out of here before I have to deal with her again tonight.

Heavy: A patient that takes up a disproportionate amount of your time, but usually for a legitimate reason.

Dr. P’s patients are really heavy. Something’s always going on with them and they have tubes coming out of everywhere that need care of some kind every hour… I had two of his patients today and I’m so tired… could we break up the assignment for the next shift please?

HOSPITAL PLACES:

The Floor: Medical and Surgical floors, sometimes specialty floors- basically anywhere that’s not the ED, Psych, or The Unit. These have higher staffing ratios (more patients per nurse) and lower patient acuity than The Unit

They didn’t really need a bed on the Unit so they were transferred to the Floor

The Unit: The Intensive Care Unit. Where crumpy patients go, comes in the following flavors (though smaller hospitals may have just one): MICU (medical), SICU (surgical), PICU (pediatric), TICU (trauma), NICU (neonatal), NICU (neurological), BICU (burn), and Stepdown (in the days after an ICU discharge).

They weren’t doing so hot, so we called a rapid and had them sent to The Unit.

The ED: The Emergency Department. Oh dear lord it is not called the ER.

They’re sending up that new admit from the ED in like 5 mins, do you have the room ready?

PACU: Post Anesthesia Care Unit, where people are stabilized after surgery.

PACU’s calling again, they’re backing up and need to give report.” 

THE NURSING HIERARCHY:

Director of Nursing: One Nurse to rule them all. Directs all facets of nursing, from training to hiring to staffing to quality improvement.

Nursing Supervisor: One nurse to rule them all… on a given shift. The nursing supervisor assigns patients to nursing units and makes sure everywhere is staffed accordingly.

Nurse Manager: In charge of the general staffing and personnel management of a particular floor, including scheduling, patient satisfaction, staff development, and service recovery.

Charge Nurse/Charge: The “shift manager” of nursing. Has final say on a lot of things you don’t want to be the bad guy on, as well as creating assignments/checking the crash cart, and submitting service requests when the nurse manager isn’t there. Also has a patient assignment.

Staff nurse: The nurses who do assessments, pass meds, start IVs, carry out orders, give updates to doc’s, chart, manage a patient’s day, make sure they get to tests/procedures on time with the right paperwork, and are overall responsible for managing patient care and providing first-line response to issues that arise throughout the shift.

Nurse Aide/Nurse Tech: Provides the majority of basic patient care. Counts intake and output, gets blood sugars and vital signs, sets up rooms for new admits, cleans and clothes patients, gets blood and urine samples, transports patients if necessary. Staff nurses are responsible for this when aides/techs are not available.

Would someone please add the Medical Hierarchy if you know it? I don’t feel I know it well enough to do it justice. Thanks!

How to Tell The Signs Like You

Aries: Lots of hugs.  They will often challenge you, whether this is challenging your beliefs or trying to prove their worth by winning a game.  They get jealous easily and may come off as harsh when they see you flirting with or giving attention to someone else.  They will think about you more than they like to admit.  They will want to be updated with what’s going on in your life, and will actually show interest in your routines/interactions with others.  There is a good chance these guys will just tell you how they feel.

Taurus: They’ll ask for your opinions on things and will try to hold stimulating conversations with you. All of your quirks and bad habits will become cute to them.  They will look at you like you are this special human being who must be protected at all costs.  Sometimes they’ll make fun of you, but all good natured.  You will consume their thoughts.  They will compliment you on things they admire about you in an almost-manipulative way of letting you know who they want you to be. All earth signs are somewhat manipulative.  Taurus’ are just so sweet when they like someone, please don’t hurt them, they constantly fear that once they open up, they’ll be misunderstood or rejected, so don’t be discouraged by a more reserved presence. This is why they want to know so much about you.

Gemini: Witty and talkative.  You may think they are always this way, but if they like you, you’ll see it in their eyes.  They can be absolutely weird when talking to their crush.  They let their guard down.  They’ll try to treat you like just another friends if they don’t want to be too obvious about it, but still they’ll pay more attention to what you have to say.  They can be touchy, similar to Leos, but more spontaneous.  Be careful with Geminis, they look at love as an experience/adventure; they are most likely to lead someone on for the thrill of it.  They’ll also be really supportive and encourage you to go after what you want.  They want the best for you.

Cancer: Shy and so sweet.  All of their friends are 100% aware that they like you.  You can probably know more about how a cancer feels about you by observing how their friends act around you.  They are not exactly coy, but more cautious.  Lots of soft eyes and smiles.  They won’t hesitate to ask if you’re okay or how you’re doing, unless they doubt themselves.  If you see them looking at you, they are trying to figure out what to say to you or a way to subtly interact with you. They fear rejection, so they are probably least likely to make the first move.

Leo: They’ll probably flat out tell you that they like you.  Everyone within earshot will know it. They get really touchy feely and will play games with you.  Footsies under the table.  They will say some things and you’ll be like what the fuck are you talking about, but forgive them, it’s their way of being nervous, even if they don’t know it.  They’ll want to be around you. They will make more eye contact than they typically would with other people.  If they really like you, they’ll adopt this special “voice” which they will only talk to you in.  It’s often softer, sweeter, and really irresistible.  They can be SO protective (it’s adorable)!! They also try to impress you and it may come off as arrogant, but it’s actually so cute ‘cause they just want you to see how great they are.

Virgo:  They will challenge you, but not in the same way that Aries does.  Virgos tend to display their more negative qualities (sometimes on accident) to see if you are worth their time.  They tend to be very insecure, so they need to know that you will stand by them at their worst.  They will certainly pick out your flaws if they like you and may be harder on you because they want you to be the best you that you can be.  They may tag along with your friend group to be around you.  They often misinterpret feelings so they may share the “hot and cold” nature that Capricorns have because they are paranoid.  They’ll open up to you just a bit more than they would with others.  They want to make sure you stimulate them intellectually before they get too serious, this is important to them.

Libra: This is a toughy because Libras are generally very charming and likable people.  A good way to determine whether they like you is by asking around- if a Libra likes you, they will never say no when asked by others if they like you (unless they have good reason).  They will try to be around you frequently and will try to show you their best side.  They will treat you differently than other people if they like you, so watch out for any soft voices or loving eyes that they save for only a special someone.  

Scorpio: If they give you any special attention at all, this is a good sign.  Scorpios are typically indifferent to people who do not interest/benefit them in the slightest.  Scorpios are known for their impulsive wit and charm, but can be a bit more awkward (in a cute way) and less witty around their crush.  EYES EYES EYES. Expect intense eye contact and lots of “subtle” staring from a smitten Scorpio.  They are very protective, sometimes even possessive over their crush.  Their eyes will light up with curiosity or lust at the mention of you.

Sagittarius: They try extra hard to make you laugh.  They can be very childish and just want you to see the adventure in everything.  They will try to impress you with their random acquired skills, which can range from being able to identify every bird in sight to the capability of balancing a pencil on their nose for several minutes.  Sometimes they stutter or are more shy around the person they like, which is a telltale because Sags are nearly always outgoing or at least projective of what’s going on with them.  They will compliment you a lot.  They will try to be what they think you want<—-Capricorns do this too, but they merely deduce your personality and accentuate the features they think you’ll appreciate. While Sags think they are doing what Capricorns do so well, they really need to find someone who will accept them for who they are.

Capricorn: They will be very hot and cold.  One day, they can be outrageous and flirty and coy, but you can bet your life that they will go home and overthink it and the next day they will give their utmost effort to avoid you or seem indifferent towards you.  This is because Capricorns have a superiority complex, and sometimes a crush makes them feel weak; they are afraid of getting hurt so they will never act too smitten for too long.  This is why most Capricorns will not admit to their feelings until they are secure in the fact that you feel the same way.  A Capricorn will also try to help you and give you advice, not because they think you are wrong or in need of actual help, but because they care about your well being and want you to live the best life you can.  They will try to impress you with their unique talents or philosophies.  They can be very coy and charming.  Intense eye contact (they honestly believe they can seduce you with their eyes).  They are chivalrous regardless of gender; they love holding doors for their crush (like literally all of them do this).  Side note: they will never forget a single thing you say or do.  Ever.

Aquarius: They will want to hang around you.  They tend to be more reserved emotionally, but will mess around with you to cope.  Like gemini, they will encourage you to go after what they think is best for you.  If you are currently interested in someone else, a crushing Aquarius will not be too fond of said person and try to convince you that you “deserve better.” They will not let conversations die.  Aquarians don’t have the greatest attention span so they definitely admire you in some way if they hold convos with you, especially over text.  Lots of laughter too!! Lots of staring, they probably won’t even look away when you make eye contact with them.  Actually, they may just laugh out loud. They are often more courteous of you than they are with others.

Pisces: Think coy and giggly. They are the ultimate dreamers and will utterly want to share these dreams and desires with you.  They can be pretty awkward, but it’s cute.  They’ll try to look their best around you.  They get a bit shy, but are almost always in a flirty mood.  Lots of poking and material stealing and cute doodles.  They are the epitome of a “middle school crush” if you get what I mean.  The boys tend to be this way more than the girls because sometimes the girls consider it childish.  Sometimes.  They are most likely to stalk you on social media.  Pisces flirt immensely through technology, and are great at sending cute texts or messages.  This is often because they stutter or withdraw in real life.  If they are single and ready to mingle, you’ll know, with frequent sighs and several exclamations of “no one likes me” followed by insecure laughter.  Basically, they’re cute.

Sally’s True Love Spell

Originally posted by untitledqueen

A spell I wrote inspired from the film Practical Magic

This is a fire free spell used to draw in your ideal lover.

This is NOT a spell to make a specific individual fall in love with you.

This spell can also be altered to search for the ideal platonic partner. See the notes section at the end of this post!

Items needed:

- Pick any of the following flower petals and dry them* if you have the time. But fresh petals are also okay. (you don’t need the whole flower just a a couple of petals) You don’t need all of them, I’m just providing as many options as possible:  White Carnation (pure love), Dark Red Carnation (Deep Love),  white Chrysanthemum (truth and loyal love), Red Chrysanthemum (love), Red Rose (deep love), Yellow rose (friendship/ caring), Orange/Coral rose (passion/energy/desire), Lavender Rose (love at first sight),  Tulip (declaration of love/ perfect love) - Any other flower you can think of that symbolizes love + companionship. You don’t need a lot. Maximum 2 petals for each flower of your choosing.

- Hot water (like just barely hot enough for tea. As long as there’s steam, you’re golden)

- water soluble paper (get rice/wafer paper OR look for the brand print-stitch-dissolve in a local craft store. I’ve found it in Michael’s and staples for around $10) IF you can’t fine the paper, just write on your flower petals, provided they are large enough.

- pen(s)/ pencil(s) in any color(s) of your choosing

- mug or bowl

- an open window/ outdoor space

What to do:

- Start boiling your water. Feel free to put it on low heat, this may take some time.

- Take your pen and paper, list the qualities you seek in a love (be they physical or personality related). If you do wish to use a visual element you can print out images/ draw the qualities you seek. There is no need whatsoever to glue items together

- As you write each quality, rip it up from the page so it’s on it’s own strip, place it in your mug/bowl

- when you are finished writing, take your dried petals and crumble them/ tear them up, toss them into the mug/bowl as well

-take the mug/bowl into your hands and speak/whisper this chant

“Lover hear me. Lover know my name. Lover come find me. Lover follow my heart’s flame.“

- put the bowl down, by now your water should be hot. Slowly pour in the hot water, repeating the chant if you wish. Let the steam send your wishes out into the world. Feel free to chant until you no longer see steam/ until the water cools.

- When the bowl/contents have cooled, pour out the mug/bowl. Be sure to wash it when you are done if it’s one you consume from.

Additional Notes: If you’d like, keep a copy of your list should you choose to keep an eye out for your person. Or if you’d like to perform the spell again. Feel free to copy any imagery as well and hold onto it if you wish.

* To press + dry flowers you can either iron the flowers between sheets of parchment paper OR press them under some heavy books (this can take several days. But since it’s petals you’ll probably need a week max.). If you use the iron method, make sure the iron is on the lowest possible setting and there is no water in it. Don’t iron across the paper like you would clothes, just dab for 10-15 seconds in each spot. Let it cool . Maybe go over with the iron 1 more time, you don’t want to scorch/ burn the petals.


PLATONIC PARTNER ALTERATIONS: change the the word “lover“ to “partner“ in the chant. Look for flowers that have friendship/ familial/ unconditional love related meanings such as yellow rose, Jasmine, pear blossom, primrose, yellow chrysanthemum, forget-me-not, blue violets, ect. Obviously make more changes as you see fit <3

summersaltturn  asked:

"Have anyone told you you have the most intimidating nostrils I've ever seen?"

“Yeah, I won an award, junior year,” Derek answers, frowning at his new IKEA (bought and built, all in a soft Henley sweater; Stiles knows, he supervised) book-shelf, like he hasn’t just finished a seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts. A seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts alone.

Derek Hale: epic nerd and assembler of easy-to-build IKEA products. Of course, Stiles thinks, cursing his stupid Professor and DIY kinks. Why not? The worst part is, he doesn’t even think those kinks are sexual. It’s just….a thing. That he has. A Derek thing. The Butterflies That Live In His Stomach were trying so desperately to move on with their lives, too. They’d shopped around. Hired a real-estate agent. They were ready, goddammit!  

Derek settles on a book - Stiles is pretty sure it also has the word ‘artefacts’ in the title - and sighs, all feigned nostalgia, and glances over his shoulder. “It was a golden nose, too. Across the bottom it said,” he pauses, grinning, “Stiles Stilinski needs to get a life.”

Stiles opens his mouth, clutches his chest, because rude much? Is it his fault Derek’s nostrils belong in some kind of anatomy museum? Is it his fault his Saturday nights are spent playing video games in his underwear, when his week days are spent chasing down monsters and researching things like how Scott and Erica managed to contract chicken pox when stabbing them does, like, nothing? (Except get Erica excited because she’s a beautiful, terrifying weirdo.) The moment he tries to tell Derek this, however, a copy of - is that Pride and Prejudice? - is thrown at his head. 

Stiles doesn’t know if he’s more offended when Derek rolls his eyes when it misses him, or the concerned look that crosses his face when the book sails past him and lands in an empty pizza box, like Derek is worried if it’s okay or not. 

And to think, Stiles was going to screw up his courage and finally invite Derek to see a movie this weekend. In an actual theatre. Where people go to be normal. Well, the laugh is on Derek because Stiles is going to buy the big popcorn and he’s going to enjoy it all on his own. 

Yeah, that’ll show him. 

~

“Has anyone ever told you your eyebrows could star in a disturbing kid’s movie about caterpillars?” 

Stiles is drunk. No, he’s wasted. Hammered. Loaded. Completely and utterly shit faced. Which is probably why instead of ending up on his ass on the floor, Derek just pinches the bridge of his nose, tips his head against the back of the couch and says, “what.” Not even a hint of inflection.

This dude, Stiles thinks, and then laughs because, ohmygod, Derek is this dude now. Not that dude or whoa, what are you doing crawling through my window, dude? but this dude. And that’s kind of beautifully heart warming, in its own way. 

Really, Stiles should write into Hallmark. It could be a trilogy. A Gay Trilogy ™. Bisexuals on ice. Except, without the ice because Stiles doesn’t know how to skate. Can Derek skate? Stiles totally bets Derek can skate.   

Speaking of Derek, he’s got this little crinkle on his forehead now, right between his eyebrows, and man, they really are very nice eyebrows. Animated but nice. A little dramatic but nice. Murderous but nice.

“What,” Derek says again, looking more confused than annoyed by the second. Stiles really wants to kiss him.

Instead, he stares. Stares and stares and stares.

Shit.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, he begins laughing uncontrollably and before he knows it, he’s clutching his sides and has his face pressed against Derek’s chest, because the hilarity is killing him. 

Because this is them now. Drinking peach-snaps at Derek’s loft, on a couch filled with throw pillows. Throw pillows. One is even soft and pink and frilly and another has a picture of the pack on it. Granted, no one is looking at the camera but Derek, Boyd and Kira and Derek is not so much looking at the camera as yelling at Stiles (holding the camera) for eating his secret stash of cookies, but it’s nice. It’s a nice picture. There is a plain black pillow too, of course. Somewhere. Stiles might be sitting on it, actually. He figures one can only expect so much when it comes to sour-wolves but Erica glued little cat ears on it last week and Derek said nothing. Fuck, he’d even smiled.

It says a lot about what a secret softie Derek is when it comes to vulnerable, drunk-ass people, because he doesn’t push Stiles away; just lets him laugh and laugh until he passes out, drooling on his chest. 

When Stiles wakes up, Derek’s sweater is pretty soaked through but he hasn’t moved an inch. He does, however, tell Stiles he snores like a deranged goose and that he owes him a pastry later.

He doesn’t even ask for a specific kind, Stiles chastises in his head, falling back to sleep. He’s in love with a pastry idiot. 

~

“Do you know when you smile, you brighten up the whole damn room?”

The question clearly catches Derek off guard because he falls head first…into a duck pond. 

Stiles’ first reaction is to jump in after him - he hates to admit it, but he gets a little nervous around water when Derek is with him; there have been several incidents where he’s unconsciously grabbed Derek’s hand in order to drag him away from pools and, one time, a very large puddle - but when Derek emerges, wearing his someone is about to die face, Stiles can’t be held accountable for the way he falls to the ground because, yup, that’s a tiny, outraged duckling perched on top of Derek’s head.   

“Oh my god,” he yells, rolling onto his back and kicking his legs in the air. He feels like a kid, grabbing his stomach, water practically pouring from his eyes. This was, quite possibly, the best day of his life.

Normally, Derek would be yelling threats - several, in fact, some in Spanish because he’s a show off - but he just stands there….in the middle of a fucking pond. The duckling is still sitting on his head, like he or she plans to set up home there and it’s so adorable Stiles thinks he actually coos out loud.

Still, Derek still doesn’t say anything. Not even when Stiles coos again, very, very deliberately. (And Scott said his middle name could never be Danger, pffft.) Stiles can’t actually guess what Derek is going to do but he doesn’t care. He looks a strange cross between wanting to murder someone - namely, Stiles - and a little kid who was told they couldn’t get a puppy only to get one on Christmas day anyway. 

Mostly, he just looks lost. And wet. Very, very wet. Somewhere out there, someone is playing It’s Raining Men and Stiles wants nothing more than to share this glorious moment with them. He’s just in the process of taking out his phone to at least snap a photo to send to the pack when - 

“Did you mean it?” Derek asks, and man, those water droplets just keep on running, don’t they. 

Stiles grins. “Did I mean for you to fall into a pond and adopt a new feathered friend? No but I think we can all agree-” 

Stiles.” 

Derek growls and it would be effective - at least in getting Stiles to help him out of the pond - if it wasn’t for the fact his ears were turning a little pink. A lot pink, actually and - 

Oh.

Sitting up, Stiles drags his butt over to the edge of the pond.

“Yeah,” he says. “I meant it. I mean, smiles can’t literally light up rooms, I know that, but when you smile it’s like…” He sighs and flaps his arms, suddenly nervous, hitting Derek in the process. The duckling practically glares at him and Stiles briefly wonders if he has competition here. 

Right. Better make this good then. He clears his throat. 

“It’s like, everything just makes sense for a little bit, you know? I look at you and it’s not that smiling is rare for you, at least not anymore, but it’s still pretty thrilling to see it and when you do I’m like, that’s some quality shit right there but then I get confused because it’s like, do I wanna punch it? Kiss it? Pet it? Who knows. Usually it depends on what you’re wearing.” 

Derek blinks and Stiles groans because, yeah, he just said that out loud. In real time. To Mr McGrumpy himself. Who is currently not reacting.

Great.

“Uh, I mean,” he attempts to correct himself but it’s too late. Derek is already slowly pulling him in and pressing his lips to his in what is the single most innocent, chaste kiss of Stiles’ life - because, you know, duckling and head movements - but somehow, it still manages to be perfect. 

“Nice,” Stiles whispers, after, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek snorts and kisses him again.

~

“Turn it off,” Derek whines, nuzzling further into Stiles’ neck. “This is why I leave my phone in the kitchen. Like we discussed.

Stiles tries to swat him, ends up kissing his temple. Sue him, he’s tired. “Says the person who can afford to leave their phone in the kitchen. We don’t all have supernatural hearing, asshole.”

Derek whines again. “You also have the worst taste in ringtones.”

Stiles gasps, suddenly sitting up. Well, he tries to. When your boyfriend is made of muscle and is half lying on top of you, it makes moving a lot more difficult. Not that Stiles is really complaining. Much. “I’ll have you know Bushes of Love is a Star Wars parody classic.”    

Derek rolls his eyes, Stiles can feel it, says, “just answer it, sweetums.” 

“Ugh,” Stiles grimaces, “I already told you I’m sorry for the pet-name thing. It was an accident!”

“Calling me your ‘slutty buddy’ in front of your dad was meant as a pet name?”

“It sounded better in my head!”  

Derek groans and wraps an “exasperated” arm around Stiles’ waist. Oh. So. Exasperated. Stiles grins. “Answer. Your. Phone.” 

Stiles finds his phone on the fifth try.

He has fifteen missed calls, all from Erica. Texts too. Every single one is a link to some article online, followed by a string of heart and eggplant emojis.   

Young Love and the Ugly Duckling’,” Stiles reads, clicking on the link. “Uhhh, Derek?” He prods him. 

What.” 

There’s a picture of us in the online Beacon Gazette,” looking into each other’s eyes, like a pair of love sick fools, Stiles wants to add because, wow, is he really that obvious when he looks at Derek? To be fair though, Derek isn’t much better and he is the one with an angry bird on his head.

He prods Derek again and again until he finally gives in, makes him look at the phone. 

“Huh,” he says, blinking at it. “Fred looks pretty pissed that I’m kissing you.” His face breaks out in a smug grin and Stiles rolls his eyes. Hard. 

“You are aware Fred is a duckling, right?” 

“Yes.” Derek grins harder, showing all his teeth, although his cheeks do colour slightly when he catches Stiles’ eye. 

Stiles sighs, totally not fond. “They couldn’t have come up with a better title, though?” he asks, brandishing his phone. “The Ugly Ducking, really?” 

Yeah,” Derek says, frowning. “I mean, I wouldn’t go as far as to call you ugly.” He laughs and Stiles smacks him across the chest with a loud, “hey!”

They both turn back to look at the picture. 

“We look so stupid,” Stiles whispers, shaking his head and biting his thumb. We fit, he thinks. We look like we fit. 

Leaning in, Derek smiles at him. “We do,” he agrees, burying his face back into the warmth of Stiles’ neck, muttering something about home and content and stupid Star Wars parodies.

Stiles snaps a selfie, captions it goals, and sends it to Erica. 

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)  

anonymous asked:

Can you improve my outlook on life and write a very drunk draco clinging to Harry please?

(LOL, I love the way you phrased that and also, I love drunk Draco.)

Potter sat there, leaning back in the booth with his arm slung across the back of the faux-leather seat, his shoulders shaking as he threw his head back and laughed at something the Weasel said. Granger shook her head with a smile of fond exasperation and leaned up to kiss her husband’s cheek. The weird blonde (”Loony Lovegood,” his booze-soaked brain provided) was waving her wand over the she-Weasel’s head in circles - ‘cause that’s normal behaviour for her.

Draco supposed that the thought of going over there ought to feel intimidating - he was completely outnumbered. But perhaps it was because of the eight or so shots of tequila Pansy had dared him into guzzling, or because he was randy as fuck.

Or because he’d just stood there hiding behind the cloak stand by the door and gazing at Potter like a lovesick halfwit far too long - he was no coward. Not anymore.

So he squared his shoulders and marched across the bar, tripping only twice, the second time because of that swaying oaf who’d nearly knocked him over.

Potter blinked up at him with his mouth slightly open.

“Potter.” Draco felt vaguely triumphant that his voice came out steady and calm - and Potter’s form was only very slightly blurry. “Potter,” he repeated, blinking slowly.

“Malfoy,” Potter replied cautiously, one eyebrow sliding up the scarred forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I can be here if I want to be here ‘cause I want to be here–” Draco was being very loud - his ears rang a little. Potter scrambled out of his seat, throwing a hasty glance at his friends before coming up to Draco and grabbing his elbow hard. Draco scowled around at the group - Weasley was scowling back, Granger looked thoughtful, she-Weasley looked completely bewildered and Loony, well Loony hadn’t noticed him yet; she was peering into she-Weasley’s ear as though she’d lost something in there.

Potter dragged him away a few paces. “What the hell?”

Draco tried to yank his arm out of his grip but nearly ended up overbalancing and falling onto his arse instead - Potter’s grip tightened.

“Let me go!” Draco slurred, stepping closer to Potter.

“What’re you doing here?” Potter repeated softly.

“I like you,” Draco proclaimed boldly. “I’ve always liked you. You never noticed. You have terrible eyesight.”

Potter pursed his lips, a faint line appearing between his thick brows. “I know I do,” he said, indicating to his smudged glasses.

“I like you,” Draco said once more, his voice decidedly breathy now - ugh. He stepped closer and, oh Merlin, rubbed their noses together. “So much,” he sighed, pressing their cheeks together for a swift second.

“Oh?” Potter didn’t seem put out at all. After staring steadily at him with his stupid green eyes twinkling merrily, Potter asked, “What d’you want, Draco?”

“To go home with you.” Oh shit, he was going to kill Pansy.

Potter simply continued to twinkle at him. “Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” he said very seriously, finally releasing Draco’s elbow to slide both his arms around Draco’s waist and tug him closer.

Draco gasped as he was pressed flush against Potter. He could caught a whiff of spicy aftershave, Firewhiskey and mint; he pushed both hands into the mess on Potter’s head and leaned forward to whisper, “I want you to fuck me.” He pressed his face into the crook of Potter’s neck.

Potter’s arms tightened, the world closed in around him until he was being squeezed almost to the point of pain, and then he was being pulled through dense blackness.


Everything ached. His stomach ached, his back ached, his toenails ached - his eyelashes ached. His head felt like it had exploded and had been put back together before exploding again; even his hair hurt.

He was too close to the sun, his retinas were on fire. The sheets below him were softer than a cloud and smelt pleasantly flowery - his stomach twisted.

He kicked himself out of bed, fell over onto his hands and knees and then half-crawled, half-ran to the bathroom until he was heaving into the toilet. It was another ten minutes before he was able to make himself stand, piss, gargle with half a bottle of mouthwash and wash his face - which also hurt.

Clad only in his boxers he stumbled through the house, following the horrible sound quality of the Wireless and the utterly heavenly scent of fresh coffee.

“Coffee!” he croaked, throwing himself into a chair so heavily that he slipped off the polished wood and landed on his bum. Potter turned around, a spatula with a bright red handle in one hand, took one look at him and nearly fell down laughing.

“Good morning!” he virtually screamed. Draco rested his cheek on the chair and groaned hoarsely, feebly pressing his hands to his ears.

“Coffee,” he whimpered. “What happened to my head? Coffee,” he pleaded once more.

Grinning widely, Potter poured him a large mugful. Shaking his head slightly as he walked over to the table, he set the steaming mug on the table, reached down and nearly lifted Draco off his feet as he helped him onto the chair he’d aimed for. “Let me guess - tequila?”

“I hate Pansy.” Draco wrapped both hands around his jade green mug with the gold polka dots and drew the drink of the Gods closer to him. “I hate tequila. I hate drinking. I hate bars. I hate going out.”

“But you like me.” Potter’s completely deadpan expression made Draco scowl - aarrgh, his face hurt dammit.

“What?” He took a huge gulp and moaned a long, gurgling moan as the gorgeous bitterness spread over his tongue.

“You like me,” Potter said again, leaning a hip against the counter with his arms crossed - he looked on the verge of another bout of laughter.

Draco stared blearily at him for several seconds before fuzzy memories started leaking into his aching brain. Then he let his head thump onto the table with another groan as Potter burst out laughing again.

“I hate everything!” Draco stated miserably. “Stop laughing at me!” His head throbbed when he raised his voice so he promptly shut up.

Potter, still laughing by the way, was loading up a plate with eggs, sausages and strips of bacon fried to crisp perfection - Draco’s stomach rolled and he clamped his mouth shut firmly as the food was set down before him.

Then Draco’s husband cupped his face with both hands, turned his face up and kissed him firmly. “I like you too,” Potter informed Draco.

“I will vomit on you,” Draco threatened.

Potter grinned, kissed his nose and went to get himself a plate of breakfast.


(Any good? ❤️)

The Upside of Falling Down

Originally posted by captain-pizzamaster

Warnings: Language

Pairing: University!Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: Hey guys!!! I’m so excited to finally be able to post my next series!!! Skyline received so much positive response and I really really hope you guys like this next story as much. It’s going to be pretty different, but I hope you enjoy it.  Also, while I have you, let’s just cover some housekeeping stuff: I do not have a tags list, so please please please stop spamming me with requests to tag!!! I appreciate how much you like my writing, but I have it in my bio and put it on almost every update.  I try my best to respond to every message I get, and sorting through all those messages just makes it harder!! Secondly, I don’t think I am going to be opening up requests.  I’m going back to school in a week, and I have eight classes as well as three jobs.  I’m going to do my best to update once a week, but I really just want to focus on the longer stories that I love, so I can give you guys the quality you deserve.  I’ll make a longer post about this all later.  Let me know what you think about this story!!! I would love to hear some feedback.

{masterlist}

You never expected university to be easy.

When you walked up the steps of Columbia University for the first time freshman year, you had known that the path ahead of you would be hard.  Extremely difficult, even.  But nothing had prepared you for the hurricane that would be your life for the next ten months.  Between the all night cram sessions, endless term papers, lab studies, and regular class hours, you were emotionally, mentally, and even physically drained by the time you finished your final exams.  As you packed up your freshman dorm, you remembered how excited you had been while decorating it for the first time, and shook your head at how naïve you had been.  Freshman year left you beaten, bruised, and with permanent bags under your eyes, but at least it was done.

Now, walking into your sophomore year, you knew what to expect.  You knew what had to be done to manage your time and your life.  You knew what study methods worked for you, and what didn’t.  You knew when it was wise to go to a party and when to stay in to finish your English literature essay.  You knew which friends to avoid during exam week so they wouldn’t whisk you off to a frat kegger, and which friends would hold up flashcards to help you study. You knew what profs gave retests, where the best snack places were on campus, the best study corrals in the library. You knew the name of the librarian that would spend his time helping you find all the resources you needed for your chemistry write up, and the emails of every TA for every one of your classes. Unlike last year, you were prepared. You were ready.

But you weren’t ready, however, for the biology fieldtrip to Thatcher State Park, the fall you were about to have, and the unexpected consequences that would follow. There was no way to study up on how to keep a secret.  There were no flashcards on what to do if one of your classmates entrusts you with their life.  There was no way to prepare for Peter Parker.

Keep reading

The price of hard work

Check Please, following Bitty’s jam debacle


Lardo sighed. Immediately, Bitty set the ingredients on the counter and turned around, caretaker instincts on full alert.

‘Lardo? What is it?’

‘Humpf. I need to price my art, and it sucks,’ she mumbled, drawing a duckling on the margin of her list. ‘Needs to be done before the end of year expo, but honestly? I’d rather give the lot and don’t bother with money.’

‘Larissa Duan! You spent the entire semester on these! You can’t just give them away!’

‘… Yeah but I like making art.’

‘It’s still work! You should be paid for that effort! And all the money you spent on supplies- lord I can’t even imagine how much those gigantic canvases are. Weren’t you complaining about how expensive good paint is just the other day?’

‘Yeah, I guess so. So, you’re saying all good work deserves remuneration?’

‘Of course!’

‘So you should get paid for your jam.’

‘Wait what- no! Not me! This is completely different-’

‘Hm. I tried. Shits, your turn.’

At that same moment, Shitty enters the kitchen, dressed only in a pair of Falconers boxers and a black tshirt that belonged to Lardo, which fit him like a crop top. Bitty didn’t even know he was at Samwell that day. 

‘Eric Bitty Bittleman The Second, tiny bro of my heart, maker of the pies, we need to talk.’

‘If this is about the jam, I already told the Falcs I didn’t want to be paid-’

‘I’m here to talk to you about market pricing, my man. There are other people, out there, working their asses off to make delicious jam, and they love doing it as much as you do. But those bros, bro, are actually depending on it to pay the rent. What you’re doing, here, is depreciating the value of jam, and convincing fans of said jam that they can have an product of excellent quality- for FREE! This is bad for business, Bits, this can even come back and bite you in the ass when you open a bakery. You don’t want to hurt future you and your fellow bakers, don’t you?’

Bitty stays silent for a moment, mouth wide open.

‘I- I didn’t think of it like that! I was just, you know, in the zone, you know how I get? And then there was all this jam, and I know the team would make a good effort, but they couldn’t seriously eat it all? But, I didn’t know it actually had an impact on the economy?’

‘Well, now that they know where to find delicious jam and baked goods for free, do you think the Falcs, their families and the SMH are going to get it elsewhere?’

Bitty bit his lip and looked at his hands.

‘I just wanted to make them happy. I love feeding people.’

‘And you can! You still can! I’m not saying you can’t make gifts once in a while or bake for your friends, I’m just saying there’s a line at some point.’

‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I know nothing about- about pricing! Lardo, how do you even manage with art?’

‘I use my resources, man,’ she said, snapping her fingers.

At that moment, Ransom and Holster barged into the kitchen, both carrying their laptops.

‘Boys? Were you all waiting in the hallway?’

‘No time for chitchat, Bits, time is money,’ says Holster, straddling a chair backwards in front of him. ‘We’re here to help.’

‘I got a spreadsheet here,’ says Ransom, sliding his laptop. ‘Compiling ingredient prices, electricity for the oven, mason jar prices, transport from Samwell to Providence and your work time, from the moment you went to buy those fruits until you closed your last mason jar.’

‘That- that is a lot of time.’

‘Wish I had that kind of concentration for studying law,’ grumbled Shitty.

‘It’s not all,’ continued Ransom. ‘This second sheet calculates the prices of similar products from spots around Samwell and Providence, from the Stop N’ Shop to the fancy little cafés and farmers market near Jack’s house.’

‘Wait, did Jack sent you those?’

‘Brah, Jack ASKED US to do this,’ said Holster with a roll of his eyes.

‘So, here are the prices of a single jam unit- counting the ingredients and the mason jar,’ said Ransom, before clicking on another Excel page, ‘and this is the price of each if one calculates the time worked, compared to what bakers and cooks make in those same cafés and suppliers.’

‘…I- I understand wanting to keep the market, and paying for the ingredients,’ hesitated Bitty, ‘but I’m still not sure I want to be paid to bake?’

‘I’m gonna give away every single one of my art pieces,’ said Lardo, doodling more ducklings. 

‘… Alright, alright, I think I get it. I’ll just put the money in the Haus funds, since I took pretty much all of it to pay for the ingredients.’

‘You put back what you took and you keep the rest,’ said Shitty. ‘Do you really want to graduate without a cent in the bank and live off of Jack’s salary?’

‘What? No! Of course not!’

‘So start making dough, my boy. That future bakery won’t finance itself, you know.’

‘Also, people respect a product if they have to pay a reasonable price for it,’ commented Holster. ‘You don’t want to ruin your reputation from the get go. Honestly I’d suggest asking for more, since it’s also fucking delicious and a secret family recipe and organic shit people are crazy about, but we’ll work our way up there over the years.’

‘Here, I got the price per unit, what everyone bought listed hockey team, then alphabetically, the total, subtracting what was borrowed to the Sin Bin fund- that makes-’

‘GOOD LORD THAT’S MORE THAN FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.’

‘Well, it WAS a shit ton of jam,’ shrugged Lardo.

‘And hard work, too,’ added Shitty. ‘So, do you accept?’

‘Well, I guess? Y’all make a lot of good points…’

‘Sweet,’ said Lardo, sending a text.

A moment later, Bitty’s cell phone vibrated with a message. His bank application signalled that someone transferred him funds- 

‘How did Jack know exactly how much to send???’

‘Told ya, Bits, it was all his idea,’ said Shitty. ‘And the Falcs have been giving him money, even hiding it in the pockets of his hockey bag, to pay for their stuff. He just wanted to make sure you were on board with it.’

Bitty didn’t know what to feel about all this, he was still insecure about pricing his jam - and his pies, cookies, muffins and other pastries, if one was to believe Ransom’s other Excel spread sheet- but the reality was that he was now five thousand dollars closer to open his own bakery, someday.

Protected | R.M.

Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.


I miss you.

You received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.

Well, not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.

You took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response for the text message.

A wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly, bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh indentions against your palm.

The moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of trying to forget all about him.


Everyone had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.

You were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.

Reggie was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.

You and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.

He was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.

You never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.

The thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent dependency that held itself with tension.

You loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.


“Are you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch table.

“Talk to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.

“[y/n], a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after your life post-Reggie Man—“

“Damn, Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”

Your words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation with Chuck Clayton.

You couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.


“I thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs, and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.

It was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.

“Watch it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”

“A young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”

“—yeah,” the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”

“If my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’ back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.

However, the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.

It was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.

“[y/n]?” Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”  

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible, though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.

The other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”

And it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.

Reggie showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.

“What the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything in horror.


“—fighting on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him to board—“

“It was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’ tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“

“No, I fought him, she had nothing to do with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his father—and you had realized that this could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you knew that it was your call to turn things around.

“No,” you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.

That led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s not here, of course.


“Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion, as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person who’d heard of what happened.

The memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even be caring for anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say. The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“ The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget about you.”

His silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the boy you really, just really, really loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag, that serpent, just to forget about you. So, fuck you.”

The response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you from the start if it was going to lead this way.”

“Protected me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.

“Yes! I’ve always been protecting you. I love you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“

This time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you, shocked.

“You stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”

Reggie stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”

You could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.


It was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.

He loved you more than he loved himself.


omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :) 

Thoughts on The Emoji Movie

           It came as no surprise to me, or anyone else, that The Emoji Movie was a disastrous train-wreck of a movie with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. From the moment it was announced, The Emoji Movie was a joke, little more than a punchline of what corporate Hollywood would make just to pander to a younger audience. Yet, by creating the shoddy garbage pile of a “film” (I use this term sparingly) that is The Emoji Movie, Hollywood has done something incredible—they have killed art.

PART ONE

           The “plot” of The Emoji Movie is one that has been presented countless times before: a misfit must leave home to change himself but learns along his adventure that his true value lies in his uniqueness. In this iteration of the “finding yourself” story the hero is Gene, a socially-outcast “meh” emoji who is terrible at what he does—he has all sorts of “non-meh” feelings that he simply can’t contain. On his first day of work, he is called upon from his emoji station to be used, but he freaks out at the last minute and causes a glitch in the sending of the emoji, leading to Alex (the phone’s user) embarrassing himself in front of the girl he likes. Because of this, the smiling emoji, Smiler, who is the “big status quo boss lady” decides to kill him. Gene, however, runs away from the antivirus software and hides in the “loser emoji” section of Textopolis (the city where all the emojis live together). There he meets Hi-5, who was once a famous and well-liked emoji who got to stay in the “favorites” section of Alex’s phone, but hasn’t been used in weeks and now seeks to regain his lost fame.

           In order to reprogram Gene’s malfunction and get Hi-5 back into the favorites section, the pair leave Textopolis and go to a piracy app that Alex, a fifteen-year-old boy, has on his phone for some reason. Gene’s parents then leave after him to try and find him and Smiler sends her antivirus robot soldiers outside Textopolis to apprehend Gene. Meanwhile, in a story beat stolen straight from Wreck-It Ralph and The Lego Movie, they meet Jailbreak, a hacker emoji who serves as the purple-haired punk love interest for the movie. Jailbreak refuses to help them at first, but when she sees Gene’s ability to express multiple faces, she agrees to work together to get to “the source code” in “the cloud.” Then, the antivirus robots appear in the piracy app, (despite the fact that they were given orders to follow Gene’s parents, who are nowhere in sight) and the hero trio escape through a tunnel to Candy Crush where Gene gets trapped and they have to play the game to help him escape. This scene has absolutely no bearing on the rest of the film and is only an overblown advertisement for a phone app, which one will likely notice as a reoccurring theme in this movie.

           After escaping Candy Crush, they take a tunnel to Dance Now (available now in the app store) and they have to play the game because Hi-5 pushed a button for some reason. Here they reveal that Jailbreak can’t dance, and the dramatic stakes are heightened, except they aren’t because Gene teaches her how and then they do the “Emoji Bop” together in what I assume is supposed to be a display of self-love. But oh no! The antivirus robots show up again somehow, so our trio has to escape fast, or risk being deleted. Then, because his phone is playing Dance Now music during class, Alex deletes the app, and Hi-5 fails to escape, sending him to “the trash.”

           Naturally, because of the friendship that the three characters have cultivated together after knowing each other for two hours, Jailbreak and Gene decide to use Spotify to travel to the trash and rescue their companion. Meanwhile, Gene’s “meh” parents have had a falling out because each one blames the other for their son malfunctioning. It’s ok though, because they meet in an Instagram photo and Gene’s dad reveals that he malfunctions too, so naturally they make it all up it each other Alex also decides to delete his entire phone because it sent the wrong emoji one time and made noises on its own. Gene and Jailbreak then save Hi-5 from the trash and they’re chased by a bigger, badder antivirus that follows them until they get to Dropbox, where it can’t get them for some reason.

           They then have to upload themselves to the cloud, and each character uses their own talents to get past the firewall. At this point the movie realizes it makes no sense and in a series of nonsensical rapid-fire events proceed as follows: Gene professes his love to Jailbreak, who it turns out is actually a princess emoji, Jailbreak denies him because of a throwaway line earlier in the movie about her being an empowered woman, the antivirus appears somehow and takes Gene back to Textopolis so he can die in front of the other emojis, Jailbreak and Hi-5 fly back on the Twitter bird to rescue him, Alex begins to delete his phone but chooses not to when Gene sends himself to Addie and she responds with “that was a cool emoji” (verbatim), Smiler is crushed by a giant robot, the emojis have a dance party, and everyone lives happily ever after.

           Watching the shoddy piece of work The Emoji Movie calls a story, I felt my head spinning with questions—not just regarding the plot holes and contrivances, but to the world itself. How do emojis reproduce? If emojis age in years, as is stated in the movie, how could any emoji be older than the amount of time Alex has had his phone? What if an emoji isn’t at the station when it is called upon? How does time flow in the phone as opposed to outside of it? Are all the emojis that marry the same emojis incestuous? Why do some emojis have names like “Gene” while others are simply called by their appearances, like Hi-5? Why is the Christmas tree shown in public in the first scene but then shown in the loser lounge two scenes later? How do the emojis know the history of their app? Why do actions in some apps affect Alex’s phone while actions in other apps do not? How to the antiviruses find Gene and his crew over and over again? Why didn’t Smiler send any antiviruses after Jailbreak when she first left Textopolis? Why does Alex try to delete his phone after sending one incorrect emoji and having it make noise in class twice? How does the illegal antivirus get into Dropbox? How did Smiler get the illegal antivirus? Why did Smiler feel the need to kill Gene in front of the other emoji? Why did Smiler feel a need to kill Gene in the first place? Why does the girl on the Dance Now app ignore jailbreak messing up after the second time? How do all the emojis come back from deletion? If the trash is emptied out daily why is an email from weeks ago still in there? And, most importantly, why did I choose to watch this movie. The Emoji Movie does not answer these question, because it doesn’t care.

           The Emoji Movie doesn’t care about its story, its congruity, or the specifics of its world, because none of it matters. The story beats, directly stolen from other, better, movies, are still in place, and none of the specifics beyond set up for this formulaic and unoriginal wholesale feel-good message have any relevance to the story. The pink-haired rogue stolen straight from The Lego Movie has no personality beyond what the plot demands, and the same can be said for almost any of the other characters. Gene, or, discount Wreck-It Ralph, has the defining personality trait of “feeling things” and his story arc leads to him “feeling more things” and Hi-5’s slightly more defined emotional journey leads from him wanting fame to wanting friends. All the other characters in the story are even less one-dimensional, somehow, with personality traits that are all literally written into their very names and appearances.

           But ultimately, these characters are simply set pieces. There is no investment in the world of the emojis, no feeling when the entire phone is deleted. Half the scenes in the movie are just cash cow product placement filler, and it becomes clear when one realizes halfway through the movie that none of the adventures they have seem to matter, even within the context of their own story. When the characters themselves seem to realize that their journey is pointless, it becomes impossible for an audience to care about or interact meaningfully with the film that they’re viewing, and the best that any viewer can conjure is a “meh.”

PART TWO

           The story of The Emoji Movie is a clear cash grab, and rivetingly unengaging in its poor execution, but more lies beneath the surface. The morals that The Emoji Movie tries to impart to its audience are well-intentioned (as any moral is), but also inherently flawed, and violently mangled in every scene where they are introduced. Indeed, the heaping dumpster fire of a film that titles itself The Emoji Movie exists on multiple levels of terribleness, not using poor storytelling techniques, but imparting poor morals through these techniques as well. It often contradicts itself, falling flat on its face and hopelessly bumbling between individualistic self-love and a quite utilitarian doctrine—almost impressive.

           The Emoji Movie has all the markings of a summer Hollywood “live your true self” movie at its beginning. The main character has a specific, boring role that he is expected to serve unquestioningly, and is made a pariah for breaking from this role. His sidekick also rebels against the system in his own right, trying to cheat his way back into a position of power. By focusing on these two, the story accentuates the flaws with the emoji system and how it emotionally damages those who are forced to suffer under it. Even the villain, Smiler, is affected in her own right—he constant need to maintain happiness seems to have driven her to a place of near insanity. In the opening monologue (a completely different problem), Gene points this out this flaw to the audience by noting how the laughing and crying emojis can never break their character and the viewers begin to see the thriving city of Textopolis as a flawed dystopia. However, after the first scene, little attention is given to these flaws, instead focusing on Smiler herself as a villain. The plight of the “loser emojis” (emojis that don’t ever get used) is also fantastically mishandled. They are only seen twice in the movie and the second time is in a post credit scene where they remain in their basement, unaffected by the event of the entire movie. After sitting through an entire movie with the message that we should be ourselves instead of acting how society tells us to, we see that by nature, some people will (or must) always be excluded from the metaphorical “emoji dance party” for being themselves. The “self” that The Emoji Movie pushes is not just a best self, but also a “most useful” self.

           This is expanded upon in Gene’s journey, where he goes from being a hyperactive “meh” emoji to (briefly) being a good “meh” emoji to finally learning to use his true power as a multi-faceted expression emoji. In the stages before he discovered his true potential, Gene was outcast by his peers—and any viewer could argue that this was rightfully so. Gene broke the emoji picking device and injured dozens of emojis in the process of his one mistake and possibly endangered the safety of the entire phone. Gene then realizes his mistake and goes off to “fix” himself, only to come back stronger and more useful than ever. As is the case in many stories, Gene is accepted only after his usefulness becomes apparent, and the villain is revealed as a bloodthirsty authoritarian rather than the level-headed leader the denizens of Textopolis cited her as being. All is forgiven for Gene and the emojis are given a world where they can serve their own purpose to society, whatever that purpose might be.

           Utilitarian theory is nothing new, and it has both its merits and its flaws, but the type of utilitarianism presented in The Emoji Movie is inherently flawed, as it places Gene’s happiness above the well-being of the collective for the majority of the movie. The ending in itself is also serves as a perfect propaganda point for the utilitarian theory that it begins to uphold later on. Gene obtains happiness when he is most useful to the group collective—and thus, happiness becomes associated with utility to the group. Instead of positing that happiness can be found through the self, or that the self can and should be used to help others, The Emoji Movie combines the two, raising the idea that true bliss can only be achieved when your “self” is given to others.

           Ultimately, this idea is an idea that I disagree with. Whether or not you choose to side with me is up to you, but, speaking objectively, the romanticizing of self-sacrifice is an idea that has tangible harm on audiences who are fed it without question. Modern Japan, for instance, continued to have problems with high suicide rates due to the presentation of hara-kiri, or suicide by sword as “altruistic” in many historical texts (Suicide in 20th Century Japan, 150). This is not to say that using one’s self to assist others is harmful—good deeds are the basis of a functioning society—it is simply to note that the mixed messages that The Emoji Movie gives point towards both complete discovery and complete subjugation of the self in an unhealthy and shoddy portrayal of a moral that has always been cliched at best.

           The Emoji Movie also makes the mistake of attempting to tackle “women’s issues,” despite not even passing the Bechdel Test. Throughout the movie, Jailbreak’s primary motivator is that she wants to be free to express herself however she wants, which she will obtain by reaching the cloud. The movie attempts to attach this to womanhood by attaching this to Jailbreak wanting to escape the oppressive strictures of heteropatriarchal femininity—except, in the finale, she is framed as being in the wrong for not reciprocating Gene’s feelings for her. Not just this, but the day is saved by her using her femininity and consenting to be with Gene, despite her feelings on the matter never being brought up for discussion. Despite the single throwaway line about “men getting credit for women’s work” The Emoji Movie is not pro-woman, and could easily be interpreted as the opposite of that. It defines traditional femininity as being the most useful aspect of a woman to a society and inherently ties all its female characters to something within that stricture, pushing its heteropatriarchal utilitarianist propaganda points deep into the dirt as it tries the make the point that “sensitive guys are cool too.” This is not to say that women who embrace their traditional femininity are by any means being women incorrectly—The Emoji Movie just happens to portray its women poorly, using them always as tools for the man-driven plot and never fleshing them out as characters.

           Tony Leondis offered his own interpretation of The Emoji Movie’s story, calling it a “coming-out story” which is significant, as Leondis is both the director of the movie and a gay man. If one looks from a distance and squints, the similarities between The Emoji Movie and a coming-out story can become visible. Gene is outcast for his “malfunction” as many gay teens will be. The butchering that follows this plot point is incredibly poorly done, and leads to something to utterly offensive and heterosexual to be called a “coming-out story.” First and foremost, a “coming-out story” needs to reach the very low bar of deviating from traditional heterosexuality in its story’s romantic subplots, somehow. This seems to go without saying, but the team of The Emoji Movie conveniently forgot this, instead tripling down on the action and giving the audience three heterosexual romantic subplots, those being the ones between Alex and Addie, Gene and Jailbreak, and Gene’s Mother and Father. None of these deviate at all from a traditional heterosexual romantic story, and, if anything, Gene and Jailbreak’s story enforces obligatory heterosexuality instead of contradicting it. Not only that, but the farther one goes into the plot, the less a coming out story makes sense. When Gene’s father reveals that he has the same malfunction, is he being implied to be the emoji version of “gay?” In a better movie, this could have been used as a tool to foster an emotional connection between Gene and his father, but The Emoji Movie is not that better movie, so this plot point is essentially forget after it becomes irrelevant. In the finale, Gene actually watches his parents get “erased” and can’t break out any expression except a “meh,” which is telling of how well the emoji movie establishes connections between its characters.

           The themes explored in The Emoji Movie are explore poorly at best, and offensively at worst, often taking a back seat to the far more important message of the film—the advertisements. Ultimately, the reason that The Emoji Movie does such a terrible job with its ideas is that these ideas are only borrowed plot points, there to mask the movie for what it really is—a massive commercial for phone apps. The true message of The Emoji Movie isn’t “be yourself” or even “make yourself useful” it’s “buy our product,” and everything beyond this is simply pointless fluff.

PART THREE

           It’s no secret that The Emoji Movie was a corporatist cash-grab, but it was astounding to see just how deeply that had sunk into the movie itself. The entire story is product placement after product placement, a journey to Dropbox, through Candy Crush and Dance Now,  so unabashed in its capitalism that it made me question the film industry as a whole. Where do we draw the line between business and art? At what point do we leave all hope of creativity behind and choose to instead sink into shameless cash grabs and commercials like The Emoji Movie? Then I realized, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that The Emoji Movie had indeed killed art.

           On its first day, The Emoji Movie made ten million dollars in box office sales—a fifth of what it cost to produce. Despite withering reviews and constant scorn from the demographics it seemed to be targeting, The Emoji Movie will chuckle through its entire life as a movie, because it played us all. This movie is a Frankenstein’s monster created by Hollywood, a mishmash of everything that makes money crammed into one pandering mess of a film, and I’m sure it knows this. I’m sure it knows that it looks like a dumb, out of touch, unwatchable pile of garbage, but I’m also sure that it doesn’t care about this, because it’s found a way to make money without even trying.

           The Emoji Movie probably paid for itself in the sheer amount of advertisements it crammed into its ninety minute runtime, and the young, impressionable minds watching it will all be immediately entranced by the colorful scenery of lands like Spotify and Candy Crush. Sales will go up for the sponsors, and the Hollywood capitalist fat-cats who decided that a movie should be made out of emojis will laugh all the way to their enormous Beverly Hills mansions. They knew that they could take advantage of the “car crash phenomenon” that makes people stare at things they shouldn’t, so they sent The Emoji Movie out to their theatres and made a quick buck for Sony Animation.

           But beyond this, The Emoji Movie sets a precedent. It showed that idiots like me can be drawn to this shit like moths to a light. It showed that movies do not need to have good quality, or have be art, to be marketable, and that the film industry should prioritize business and profits above all else. The Emoji Movie has proved, statistically, that quality cinema should always come second to quality advertising. The time to organize against the Hollywood capitalist is now. A boycott of terrible Sony films is the least the we can do to stop them, even though such an action would be little more than a thorn in their hide. We Must accept that our idiocy and submission to this trash is at least partially responsible for the state of film as it is in America today, and we must break free of the chains that force us into our roles as submissive cash cows.

           Good cinema does good things for those that watch it. It can be used as a tool to convey important and revolutionary ideas, or to relay important information to those that are systemically spat on by traditional education. Historically great films have caused great controversy, such as the movie adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird which caused riots in the south upon its release. When we let film fall to business we lose a part of our cultural identity—we submit art, heritage, and storytelling as just another part of a capitalist machine.

           We have the buying power. We choose where we spend our money, and where we place our values. No longer can I sit idly in my movie seat and watch terrible movies for fun—the time for action against the greatest threat to art in the western world is now. Resist capitalism, resist the state, and resist the attack upon the most basic human freedom of expression.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Until next time, Comrades.

-Sunshine

Awarded*

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Rating: Explicit  - 18+ only
Summary: Chris and Reader attend the Academy Awards together. At the Oscars after party, the actor surprisingly wants to leave sooner because he wants to have some quality time alone with his girlfriend.
Word Count: 2.9k
Genre: NSFW/SMUT
Warnings: dirty talking, slight Dom!Chris, lots of hickeys or love bites, oral sex (both receiving - 69), fingering, hair pulling, slight spanking, multiple orgasms and rough unprotected sex. [It wouldn’t be a shock if you wrapped your cock!]
Author’s Note: It can be read as a continuation of Halftime Show*.  Also, the “baby girl” pet name is mentioned, but it’s not linked to a Daddy kink in this fic.

Originally posted by adamisstillinhellthankstoyou

The Oscars, the greatest, most prestigious and most glamorous ceremony of all, gathered actors, directors, producers, costume designers and every hidden worker in the cinematographic industry for a moment of celebration of their art. Like every year since the ceremony that had awarded Cate Blanchett or Daniel Day Lewis, you stood by Chris’ sides and attended the shows with him for a moment of joy, creating happy memories.

This year’s ceremony - which wasn’t such a catastrophe - nothing changed between the dozens of photographers yelling out your boyfriend’s name, to the many laughs thanks to the host and the dinner held by the Academy, it was a blast and there you were enjoying the after party with Chris and some of his friends.

Even if you weren’t working in this environment quite tough, you were always enchanted to meet more people working behind the scenes of a movie that worked so well. The Vanity Fair Oscar parties represented moments of different encounters, sometimes either awkward or very interesting, but what you enjoyed most was having Chris next to you and telling you how much you looked gorgeous, wanting to introduce you to everyone he knew there.

Standing next to the bar with him in your sophisticated gown, your red lipstick outrageously showed off as you carried a flute of champagne close to your mouth and you noticed the way his beautiful blue eyes lingered on your lips and how his eyebrow raised so lustfully each time, your body would brush past him. The late evening consisted of quite sexy exchanged glances, stealing kisses and soft skin contacts that drove him crazy the whole time.

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Lay Off, Anxiety

Prinxiety - [Prince (Fanciful side) x Anxiety]

Summary: Prince tries to convince Anxiety to leave Thomas alone. In the process he finds out that his lover happens to be ticklish. [WARNING THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]

I love feedback! Critique is greatly appreciated! PROUD OF ME! I posted two fics one day! And both are Prinxiety, so yes. Just Yes. I’m sorry if this is shit. I have no way to tell as i am the writer and for some reason, in my experience, as a writer it is hard to tell teh quality of your own work. *shrug* les see how it turns out, the other one got 50 notes in two hours so fuck yeah! ALSO I AM SHIT AT TITLES!

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Babe

“Baby.”

           Bitty stirs at the sound but doesn’t open his eyes. Jack is solid behind him and hasn’t moved a bit, with his arm still draped over Bitty’s middle.

           “Baby,” Jack says again, sleepily.

           “Hmm?”

           Jack doesn’t respond. Bitty thinks he may have just spoken in his sleep. He taps at Jack’s hand.

           “Jack?”

           Jack tightens his grip and slips his hand under Bitty’s shirt to rest on his chest.

           “Good morning,” he slurs, and rubs his nose into the hair at the back of Bitty’s neck.

           Bitty laughs into the pillow. He doesn’t bother turning around—it’s too early for moving—but he leans further into Jack’s chest.

           “Good morning.”

           “Mm. Morning.”

           “Yes, honey. It’s morning. Are you getting up?”

           “Hmm. No.”

           Jack breathes in deeply and ducks to press his forehead between Bitty’s shoulder blades.

           “You smell nice,” he says.

           “Thanks honey.”

           “Mmmyou’re welcome babe.”

—–

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the endless winter

how much longer do I have to wait
how many more nights do I have to stay awake
to see you
to meet you

Summary: Your whole life has been plagued by the sight of gray: cold and lonely and unbearably plain; you thought you were the exception to a system of fate and destiny that brought two people together. That is, until your favorite Kpop group undergoes their first international tour.
Pairing: Jimin | Reader
Genre: Fluff; Idol/Fan AU + Soulmate AU (the one in which colors get brighter and brighter than closer you are and fade into gray when they’re too far)
Word Count: 11,869
Author’s Note: This was an idea I originally had for Hopeless Hearts, but it didn’t feel right in comparison to what Hopeless Hearts has become now. I knew I wanted to write something for Jimin again so this idea came back to me with more details and it just felt… right.

ALSO thank you Katie aka @minsvga for reading my outline and basically letting me talk you through the entire plot and letting me update you whenever I hit different word counts.

.

You always thought you were broken—a failed outcome of a nearly flawless structure that has bounded and tied two people together since the very creation of human beings. You had heard of those special cases, of people who just saw gray their entire lives no matter how many oceans they covered and no matter how far they traveled, no matter if they searched the deepest corners or sought out the tallest mountains. You’ve heard of people in which distance wasn’t the problem—it was just them. Their existence had been doomed from the moment they were born, to live their life in monotone quality. Quite literally too, in fact. Knowing that there would be no one waiting for them on the other side as they slowly ventured through, never knowing a sunset or a sunrise or the grass—their life like an old film, classic and hazy and left behind.

For the first seventeen years of your life, the thought of just not having a soulmate was something that you didn’t necessarily think too deeply about. Some of your friends were of equal level to you, basking in the gray plaguing your line of sight. Albeit, there were a small handful who caught glimpses of red and yellow and blue, all of which were tinged in gray, during the duration of high school. And then there were an even smaller handful who were immediately gifted with the sight of the rainbow right out of the gate—their soulmates are the ones they end up going to prom with or are in the running for best couple in the yearbook, or other varying degrees of gross shit like that.

At a young age, the idea and concept of a soulmate, the concept of forever, was far too grand and far too wide to understand or grasp entirely. It also just seemed much too gross for you to want to understand. The thought that there was someone out there made just for you? Preposterous.

For the first seventeen years of your life, you didn’t really care. And you knew there were many others like you who shared that same belief system. No one wanted to have to settle down too early.

But none of you understood the true gravity of what it would be like to finally find your soulmate and the sensation of experiencing something you had been deprived of your entire life—henceforth you continued not caring, not knowing what you were missing out on in spite of everyone gushing endlessly about it.

Finding one’s soulmate has always meant to be a personal experience, something that could never be replicated or repeated—for a soulmate is supposed to provide as a ‘one and only’ occurrence; something that people could talk about yet not understand unless one had also uncovered the discovery of what would follow upon meeting a soulmate.  

For the first seventeen years of your life, the art of ignoring those type of conversations shared between parents and girls who thought they were better than anyone else gradually started to become second nature to you. Yes, you could grasp that meeting your soulmate was going to mark a momentous occasion in your life, but was it really that important? You were going to meet him eventually, so what was the point of rushing through everything?

You were going to meet your soulmate eventually.

Right?

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With so many people from around the world talking about there experiences in school, it can be a little confusing to figure out what it all means. All states have different standards so things can vary a lot, but here’s a general guide to help you figure out what the heck your American friends are talking about.

Read on after the cut to learn more about grade levels, classes, high school, college, and a lot more!

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Tips for Seniors/Juniors in High School (Plan on Going to College) College Admissions Advice #1

So when I was a Junior/Senior i remember freaking out about what college I wanted to go to and what I wanted to be and whatever

NOW I know I want to be an educator and help teens through this time because I remember how stressful this process was.

So here’s a 10 Tip thread I made for Jr/Seniors in HS who plan on applying to college

Look first of all, let me just say a disclaimer: I am not a college admissions person, this was just my experience with the California’s college application system.

So in my experience: I had the luxury of applying to 10 colleges (8 pub, 2 Priv) all in California #blessfeewaivers

The schools I applied to all ranged from prestigious to average but most of them happened to be my safety schools.

I wanted to point this out bc that was one of the things you SHOULDN’T DO when applying to college.

  1. Don’t doubt yourself

When applying to college, many people get too caught up on rankings and whether they can get in the college or not.

And I was the same way. I even made a list

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p>When I was applying to college the main factors I looked for in a school were:

  1. Prestige
  2. Size of school
  3. Weather
  4. WOKE OR NOT
  5. Difficulty to get in
  6. How far was it from home
  7. Etc

So make a list of what you want in a college. Especially if you want to dorm. You know what you want whether it be a school by the beach, or a school in a large city etc

Colleges won’t fit everything on your list, but if they do, congratulations you have found your dream school.

  1. Apply to dream schools even if your dream school is insane to get into or it’s far away or whatever, apply to it!!

DREAM SCHOOLS DO NOT HAVE TO BE THE BEST SCHOOLS, THEY ARE NOT SYNONYMOUS ALTHOUGH THEY SOMETIMES CAN BE

Your dream school is the place you feel like you’d flourish AND fits the criteria you have set for yourself

Nobody should ever make you feel ashamed of your dream school because in the end if you get in you’ll be happy

Also, apply to places even if you doubt you’ll get in. They may not be your dream school but they might turn out to be.

You’ll have a better chance of getting in if you apply compared to the literal 0 chance you’ll have if you don’t apply.

Just have the guts to apply to your “dream school” or a school you really like aight.

But also realize that if you’re applying to less that 5 schools, then maybe you should consider some safety schools.

  1. Apply to safety schools but not too many like me :)))))

These schools are not even schools that are low in “ranking” They are just schools you wouldn’t mind going to but the point is you’ll def get in.

  1. Apply to schools you feel are what you want without focusing on your major too much

Be aware that yes your major might “matter” but apply to places that interest you as a whole. Your major might change. Your school, probably not.

And know what your comfortable with. Personally, I wanted to go to a school close enough to come home on then weekends but still be able to dorm.

  1. Apply to private schools if you fit any of these 1. You got a dank scholarship 2. You’re not planning on dorming 3. Dream school 4. You’re rich 5. You got a fee waiver and why not

Private schools can be fucking expensive. They are smaller and have a “better quality education” but know that price is the main factor.

Many private schools in Cali offer really good education such as Stanford and USC

But unless they offer you a private school education at a public school price they can put you into some serious debt

Many of them also offer very little financial aid but do give out substantial scholarships. I was offered a $26,000 scholarship to a $65,000 school ???

So unless you have a fee waiver, applying to one of those schools and doing the work for it may not be all it’s cracked up to be in the end.

  1. Work on your personal statement EARLY ASF

THE BIGGEST THING WHEN APPLYING TO COLLEGE IS THE PERSONAL STATEMENT SO IF YOU STRESS OUT ABOUT ANYTHING IT SHOULD BE THIS

Your personal statement is the only place in your college application that you can bluntly state: “IVE STRUGGLED IN LIFE PLEASE ACCEPT ME”

Depending on your past you either dread writing about you or you have nothing to write about.

But seriously start early. And if you don’t know where to start, just free write.

I had a dream and the following day I wrote about that shit and I actually used it in my essay. (As a metaphor)

  1. Apply to Financial Aid and Look & apply for scholarships!

My decision on the school I finally chose had SOO much to do with financial aid.

Some schools sometimes will offer you little to no financial aid and if your a broke bitch like me you’re counting on that financial aid

If paying for college is a factor in your decision plan ahead, like start now.

Career Centers are your holy grail when talking about financial aid and colleges in general.

Look for scholarships to apply to ahead of time and get all the shit you need in order for you to submit them. (Letters of Recs)

Speaking of Letters of Rec, if you are planning on applying to a private school, most likely they will ask you for 2 or more letters of rec

So… 8. Make a Bragging Sheet

A bragging sheet is like a resume but for high school. Make a google doc and put down EVERYTHING YOU HAVE DONE IN HS OR ANYTHING THAT IS WORTHY OF MENTIONING

For example - Associative Student Body 2020-2024 - (Leadership Role: if any) [And then put a brief description of what y'all do but in a profesional manner]

My teacher made me do this after I asked him to write me a letter of rec and it helped me sooo much bc

  1. This helps bc it will give your teachers (those who will write your letter or rec) something to say about you in their letter.

And make sure to give it to every teacher/ counselor that way they know exactly what they should put in your LetOfRec

  1. If you’re a person who has done a lot of activities in HS, this will help bc most applications will ask you what you’ve done

  2. Scholarships ask you what activities you’ve done in HS and you’ll have them all written down on this doc and all you have to do is copy it

It honestly comes in handy guys and it’s really easy to make. Google Bragging Sheet/Letter for more info about how to set it up

  1. Do test scores matter when applying to college? ACT? SAT? AP? Answer: Yes and No

AP scores only matter if the schools you’re applying to actually give you credit for the test you’ve passed

However, if you are planning to go to a UC, AP English Scores are SUPER IMPORTANT so pass them at least with a 3. Or retake them if you can.

AP scores are also important depending on your major. If you are heading towards a STEM major they can help you gain credit in that area.

As for SAT and ACT scores, they matter depending on the school you’re applying to.

Applying to a more prestigious school, and having a better test score puts you at a greater advantage

But there are many cases where people get accepted to their dream school having really good curricular activities and average test scores

  1. Don’t stess too much

The actual college application is fairly easy to navigate. Especially the UC app. But do not wait until the last day!!!

For a couple of years now the website to submit your application will crash the day the app is due so try to finish it at least two days before

But if you do your bragging sheet, those applications will be so easy bc all you have to do is copy and paste what you already have.

Colleges want to see that you saw high school as a 3 sided Pie Chart filling in Academics, Sports, and Extracurriculars

They want to see that even if you didn’t play sports, you excelled in academics or vice versa.

  1. In the end, any school is going to help you get to where you want to go as long as you also put in the effort to make your dreams happen.

Maybe some schools will get you there faster but how would I know, I’m barely starting that path myself lol

Edit: I’m so happy you all have found this post enlightening!! It makes me really happy to have passed on some of my wisdom. Go check out the rest of my posts if you want more detailed info and if you have any questions feel free to ask!!!

A Pile of Empty Brass

Author’s Note: This is the first time I’ve felt like I have a story worth writing in a long, long time. I wanted to thank everyone who has made such kind comments on my writing in recent weeks. All of the stories that you’ve seen on my tumblr are at a minimum a year old. You’ve reminded me why I enjoy writing, and I can only express my deepest gratitude to you all. Thank you.

It was not the human warriors that convinced us of their worthiness.

It was not their works of engineering.

It was not their music, it was not their cuisine, it was not their weapons of war, it was not their policies of peace, it was none of these things for how can we measure a species by these things?

A species may fight with ferocity and valor on the field, and scorn their poor. 

A species may build great works, and flee before a fight.

A species may sing beautifully, and use that song to pervert the truth.

It is no measure of a species how they treat their poor if they treat those who are not of their species as worse than dirt. 

No, no it was none of these things that convinced us of humanity’s greatness. 

It was their spirit. It was their resilience, their willingness to take a just cause to the bitter end and to watch their towers crumble and their skies burn before they would sacrifice what they considered sacrosanct. 

It was as their great fleets were smashed before the oncoming tide of terror and their armies massacred from the skies, for though we might not judge their race by their martial prowess it was a prowess they had in abundance. And the terror that came from the great void between the stars could not stand before the fury of a human army, and so rained fire on them from the skies. 

It was as disaster after disaster befell them, and a single demand was broadcast again, and again, and again. 

Surrender. Bend the knee. Permit the terror to stand tall. Let them break you beneath their whips.

Surrender your freedom, and be spared.

And so it was that a human diplomat came to us, the Concordat, the council of spacewalking species, and to my everlasting shame we counseled surrender. Many of us had. It was not wrong to bend the knee to the strongest, we argued. 

Humanity, it seemed, disagreed. 

“Honored Speaker of the Concordat, my fellow members.” He began, slowly, and I heard something in his voice I could not place then but I know now to be the joy humanity can only feel when they have dedicated themselves to a cause they know deep in their hearts to be so just, so pure as to be worth the deaths of everyone they knew or loved. It was the voice of a man who saw his death on the horizon and resolved to greet it with his head held high and a song on his lips.

“Caution, you have counseled us. It is wisdom you say, to bend the knee to that terror from beyond the void, to let them have our homes and our families to do with as we please. For you say there is no shame to live as slaves. No dishonor in surrender to an evil, so long as we live.” 

There was an unspeakable quality to his voice, a deep tenor that echoed throughout the chamber for those of us with the ability to hear it. 

“My fellow members of the Concordat you call your policy accommodation and say if we surrender, if we let the enemy into our homes and our hearts he will come to love us. 

“Humanity has considered this proposal, and as one we have spoken. As one we have rejected it, for we are not a people who will go quietly into the night we are not a people which will let our children grow up with the yoke of slavery around their necks without a fight. 

“We are all retreating under the pressure of this war and so you say that the time has come to surrender because you have heard from your own people pleas for peace at any price. You have heard those that say they would rather live on their knees than die on their feet.

“Honored members of the Concordat those voices may speak for your own people but they do not speak for us. There are things in this life worth bleeding for, worth killing for, worth dying for and the sweet air of freedom is such a thing. We will not surrender. This has been our position from the very beginning, and it has not changed.

“There is no price we will not pay to maintain our freedom, for as we die it is the only thing we have. One day, we all know, that one day we will go to meet our creator or the void. One day we will go into that darkness, and we will be judged, of this I have no doubt. I, my father, my mother, my son, my daughter, my people, my people will go into the void and we will hold our heads high. Our children will enter the void. Our children’s children will enter the void. This we all know.

“So the question before us is not ‘will our children live’ for our children will die. This is our burden to bear. The question that lies before us is how will they live. How can we look our children in the eyes and say ‘we did this for you’ as they are broken beneath the heel of a tyrant. 

“So members of the Concordant, we will set our children to flee. We will send them and our parents and those we can spare far, far away. We will send them further than the terror can follow and they will grow up free.

“And we, we who can? We will fight. We will fight in the space above our colonies, we will fight in the atmosphere of our homes and we will fight on the landing grounds of the terror. We will fight, and fight, and fight until the terror no longer comes, or the last of us has fallen.

“And we will pray to whatever God we believe in. We will pray to be made fast and accurate. We will pray for true aim and quick hands and minds. And we will not pray for victory, for we will not leave victory up to the fickle hands of fate. We will take victory, and our victory will be the free lives of our children. 

“We will not pray for victory. Our victory is assured. So members of the Concordat, we do not ask for your prayers for our victory. We ask that you pray for us to die in piles of empty brass.

“We will die on our feet so that our children will never know the agony of living on their knees.”