paper scans

The Land of Scanning

The Land of Scanning is a black and white place
Uncharted on maps, this secretive space
Can never be inked, it leaves no trace
And photographs taken will just fade away

With careful planning, there is only way
Of finding this place, the stories will say
During the last few days of May
The Land of Scanning will open its gates

Time is demanding a traveller’s race
If you wish to visit, find a bookcase
Pick a novel from random and rip out a page
Feed through the scanner and print off your face

The Land of Scanning is a wonderful place
I’ve saved you a spot if you get here okay
It’s a place to start over, be free, recreate
Where your fears and faults may be erased

The Land of Scanning will appear in the rain
You will have to fly here by paper airplane
On the paper, neatly write down your name
Then cast it in the sky, in hopes of reaching this place

Flirting is Hard When You’re Harry Potter

Original headcanon by @ harry-is-lily-ginny-is-james!!!

It’s still monday! …for a half an hour anyway. This one ended up being much bigger than I originally planned. I hope you like it~

(Now posted on AO3!)



“It’s all the paper talks about anymore,” Draco frowned, “Stupid Potter.”

“We’re agog,” Blaise said pouring himself and Draco a cup of coffee.

Pansy smothered a yawn and picked up a piece of toast, “Do tell.”

Draco folded his paper, eyes scanning past the picture to the drivel written below, “Potter’s going to join the auror’s, change the world,” he grumbled, “you’d think the sun shines out of his arsehole the way they go on about him.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” A voice said behind him from the Ravenclaw table, “that Potter’s a total pillock.”

“Exactly-” Draco turned on his bench, his words choking off before they were halfway out of his mouth.

“I really don’t know what they see in him,” Potter said flatly, taking a massive bite of pancake.

Luna smiled absently at Potter’s side, “I don’t know, I’ve always thought he was quite nice.”

Potter picked up his pumpkin juice, “To-tal pil-lock.”

Draco felt his face go hot and he spun around back to his plate. Blaise quickly picked up his coffee cup to hide a growing smile. Pansy snorted, almost choking on her toast, she ducked her head and fumbled for her cup.

Draco grabbed his bag and left the table with an imperious sniff.

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Day One Hundred and Thirteen

-A trio of equally eager and elderly women approached me at my register. One jammed her phone into my hand and pleaded with me to get her a ten-dollar coupon. I told her that I had a paper copy I could scan for her instead. She continued to force her phone upon me. I was left with very few options. I hope I chose the proper one.

-A woman handed me a stack of gift cards after already completing the payment process, expecting me to be able to subtract them from the total after the fact. She insisted I use them anyway, so I voided her transaction and attempted to run it again. It was not until the receipt had printed that I found she had not learned from the past and instead doomed herself to a repeat.

-I have never been a morning person, but I believe that my morning shifts may change that. I am finding that this is the time where the store is filled almost solely with sweet elderly people and lovable infants with almost none of the rowdy hooligans or sexist businessmen.

-A young four year-old girl, once given stickers, proceeded to take the only natural action. She slapped one right on the side of her infant brother’s face, leaving neither he nor his mother any the wiser.

-A woman handed me a cut-out coupon. It was not a coupon. The woman insisted I accept her coupon. In large print, it read, “NOT A COUPON.” She asked me to accept her coupon.

-I have once again witnessed the mind-boggling sight of a man of potentially Middle Eastern descent wearing what was potentially religious garb. This was not the baffling part, but rather, the panicked frenzy of furtive looks, clenched fists, and hushed murmurs of “I’m not a racist, but-”. I am relieved by these murmurs though, as, were it not for them, there would be no denying their deep-seated racist tendencies. However, as they said, such is not the case, so they may live free of all guilt.

-The single most squeezable youngster came through my lane. We shared a thought-provoking conversation based upon all of the words that she knew. She started off on a deep note, saying, “Stickers,” as I had just handed her stickers. She then made an interesting point by remarking, “Glasses,” due to the fact that I was sporting glasses. She finally brought this conversation to an impactful close as she solemnly said, “Back,” while turning and pointing to show me that she had a back.

-A man’s girlfriend said, “I have a quarter.” A woman’s boyfriend said, “I have an eighth.” This was followed by the heaviest silence I have yet to witness at my register. I watched her eyes glaze over as she made a mental note to break up with him the moment they escaped the public eye.

8

Carrie Fisher’s interview for The Guardian (November 2016) - inc. an excerpt of The Princess Diarist.

She pauses, and starts again. “No, it’s not a failure - it’s unreciprocated love.” Another pause. “Which I guess is a type of failure.”

anonymous asked:

andreil pda around the foxes pleaseee my soul needs it

my marvelous anon, i am here to grant thine request, with a small side of accidental lowkey renison. enjoy <3. also on AO3.


He did it. He actually did it. After months of constant warnings and threats, Wymack finally followed through.

Neil can do nothing but stare at the flyer in his hand, mildly in fear and majorly in shock. A mere thirty seconds prior, Wymack had stormed out of his office brandishing this piece of paper like both a white flag and a declaration of war. He had paused just inside the lounge, making sure to gather everyone’s attention, before striding over to Neil and shoving the flyer in his face.

“This is for last weekend,” Wymack had said. “I already—don’t give me that look, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. I already signed you up. It starts at 8:00 AM on Saturday, and unless you want your ass glued to the bench for the rest of the season, I suggest you be there.” He had then turned back around and disappeared into the hallway, leaving a room full of confused and curious Foxes in his wake.

A full minute passes before chaos breaks out and everyone starts moving at once. Various forms of “What the hell?” can be heard from all corners of the room. Neil blinks as the flyer is yanked out of his hand. He looks up to see Andrew, his eyes scanning the paper. Andrew looks up at him, and Neil’s heart nearly explodes because this look on his face, it looks like the honest-to-god beginnings of a smile. And sure, it’s at Neil’s expense, but he would embarrass the fuck out of himself at every turn if this was his reward. Andrew moves to hand the paper back to Neil.

“Okay, seriously,” Kevin huffs out with impatience as he pushes through his teammates. He snags the flyer away from Andrew who couldn’t be bothered to stop him. Kevin reads aloud, “The Annual Hilton Head Island Marathon…a MARATHON? Really, Neil?! Is this a joke?”

“I don’t know, Kevin,” says Andrew, his voice taking on the persona of a kindergarten teacher. “Did it look like a joke to you?”

Kevin’s only response is to scowl and shove the flyer into Neil’s chest. “This better not affect your performance at our game on Friday. You don’t get to take it easy just because you have to run 26.2 miles the next day.”

By the time Kevin has stormed out of the building, the rest of the Foxes have commenced their team wide freak out.

“Seriously?! He actually came through on that threat?” Dan is caught halfway between being genuinely worried and dying of laughter.

“Neil…bro…what the fuck…” Matt says from somewhere on his left, placing a consoling hand lightly on his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Neil. We have to be there. I have to witness this historic moment. You finally get to put your insane running habits into practice,” Allison is rambling from across the room.

“Wait, what was Wymack talking about ‘last weekend’? What did you do?” Asks Nicky, unaccustomed to being out of the loop.

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Paper Stars

Summary: Dan starts to get love notes in his locker in the form of origami stars, so he gets the help of his best friend, Phil, to figure out who it is.
Word Count: 2,398
Warnings: cussing
A/N: Thanks to @insanityplaysfics as always for giving me ideas. I’m a fucking sap recently because my boyfriend proposed to me and I just wanna write a crapton of fluff and puke rainbows everywhere. This is short and sweet, which is very rare for me! I hope you like it anyways!
Read it on AO3

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The day Dan opened his locker to a strange slip of paper folded into an origami star was one of the strangest moments of his life.

“What,” Dan said simply, giving the offending paper a strange look. He bent down and retrieved it, staring at it long and hard. It was thin, made with a flowery paper, and he could just make out words written in very small print on it. “What,” Dan said again.

With a small amount of struggle, Dan managed to unwrap the star, revealing the writing inside. The script was sloppy to the point where Dan thinks it was written with the wrong hand. Dan said “what” again and the word didn’t even sound like it was real anymore. It took him a few minutes to read what it said due to the scribble, but he eventually managed.

‘i used to stare out the window because i thought the scenery was beautiful. Then i saw you and suddenly the world didnt seem nearly as captivating as before.

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Wanna Bet? (M)

Rich Fuckboy!Jimin x Tutor!reader

PART II  |  PART III

Word Count: 2,782

Summary: Working as a private tutor at the most prestigious university in the region, you had to put up with a lot of bratty kids. Though none were as bad as Park Jimin. Just as your luck would have it, you’ve been assigned to be his full-time tutor for the year….great. After many failed attempts to get his grades up, Jimin comes up with a bet to raise his marks. What’s the worst that can happen, right?

A/N - This is my fic, just re-posting on my sideblog!


You were grateful for this job, you really were. Some days, it was just really hard to be grateful. You worked at the wealthiest, all boys university this side of the country. You’re a private tutor, working with a maximum of five students a year. Things have been going well for you, you’re known as the best tutor at the school, so parents are flocking to you to help their precious spoiled brats. Hey, at least the money is decent.

Your whole week, scratch that, year has gone downhill the moment you get a call from the Dean.

“Y/n? Yes, hello. We’re going to need you to take on a student full time at the start of the new school year. I know this is a lot, so the pay will be increased, and you won’t have to take any other students. You will be tutoring five days a week for this student. Can you do it?”

“Um, yes, I don’t see why not…” growing a little curious as to why the dean himself is contacting you, you ask, “who is the student, Sir?”

“Park Jimin.” Shit.

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All Too Well (M) | Pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Summary: You and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. But two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour.
Pairing: Yoongi | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut; Idol & Makeup Artist AU
Word Count: 6,061
Author’s Note: I always wanted to try my hand on a Yoongi chapter story, and then I saw this prompt on tumblr and decided to go with it. I also want to note up ahead that I’m not super familiar with how the recruiting process for Kpop groups go and my knowledge only extends to really quick skims of articles just to get the basis. Regardless, I hope I can get to more parts, so let me know what you think.

also idk if this should be considered a prologue or a part 1 but oh well im just leaving it as part 1

.

You suppose that it all starts and ends with a letter.

Dear Mr. Min Yoongi,” Your boyfriend reads across the kitchen counter, fingers curling tightly around the paper in his hands, eyes blown wide with a gaze depicting such rare intensity that you’ve actually stopped fixing your morning coffee just to catch a sight of his expression. You can’t entirely place the feeling weighing itself into your stomach, so you settle with staring at him and trying to keep your own facial features as neutral as possible. “We are pleased to inform you that you have passed the final audition at our label and therefore are officially recruited into our newest group Bangtan Boys. You are going to be one of seven other boys joining our label as trainees and we are excited to finally bring everyone together to prepare for debut. Although training won’t officially start until next week, we ask that you come to the studio tomorrow morning to meet the other members as well as be prepped on our expectations and scheduling. We wish to congratulate you on your hard work and look forward to getting to know you more in the coming years. Sincerely, Big Hit Studios.”

When Yoongi doesn’t react immediately to the positive news, you flicker your gaze up to study him. His eyes, once again, are scanning the paper, quicker and quicker with each line as if he didn’t read it or hear it correctly the first time around. His eyes have grown to the size of saucers at this point, and you would have thought him to be a statue had it not been for the rather loud inhales and exhales coming from the boy. The sight itself would have been rather comical had it not been for the context behind the stare.

So you try for a gentle smile, leaning a little on the counter to try and further gauge his expression. “Yoongi?” You inquire softly, reaching a hand across the space to run your hand along his shoulder blade. “Baby, are you alright?”

Yoongi blinks, snapping himself out of his trance as he shifts his gaze from the letter to you, back to the letter, and back to you. “I did it?” He whispers, the statement sounding more like a question above anything else and you find your lips curling up into a fond smile in light of Yoongi’s confusion—even though he was the one to read the letter multiple times, running over the words in his own mind repeatedly.

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