this is also something i did maybe 2 years ago

In two days I, an italian living in Italy, have learned that:
1- Verona doesn’t exist (what the hell?? Are you serious?)
2- Italians are poc because we had something like a thousand years ago an Arab invasion (so we are also french, and vikings, and so on I guess)

Conclusions: the american education system is really fucked up.

sanasyouseff  asked:

Hello there, I have a prompt for you😊 After the incident™ of that particular Friday™ Sana just cancels everybody, like all of them. She does not participate in the bus and does not talk to Yousef anymore.. but many years after shit went down™ she now has become a specialist in pediatric surgery (remember the poster of the human body she has on her wall?!:)) and is giving a seminar on a medical topic. And by the end of it, she recognizes someone from the audience: Yousef🙈🙈

And Yousef is also a pediatrician. Then there is the shock™ and they talk to each other while you can literally FEEL™ how much they mean for each other ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I hope that’s okay🙈🙈 “

Hiii @thenifflersnose !! First of all thank you so so much for trusting me with your idea. 

It’s the first time I write an au/future fic so I really hope I don’t disappoint you. I hope I wrote it the way you wanted to and I really hope you like it

Thanks again!!


How long had it been? 6 years? No, it had been more than that. 7 years? Still more. 8 years? Close enough. She could pretend like she didn’t know, but she did. It had been 7 years 9 months and 23 days.

7 years, 9 months and 23 days since that Friday evening when her whole world crashed.

She remembered it very clearly. If she closed her eyes she could see herself standing in the middle of that karaoke club, still feeling the blood in her hands even though she had just washed her hands, the voices of those two girls she had heard talking in the bathroom still in her head, and in front of her one thing she wished she had never seen, her best friend and the guy she was in love with kissing.

A lot had happened after that.

She remembered going to school the following Monday and approaching who she thought were her friends only to tell them that she wasn’t participating in the bus thing. Sure, there was shock at first, the girls tried to convince her to change her mind but after a couple of weeks they had given up. A part of Sana always wished that they would’ve tried harder, just a little harder.

Convincing him had been more difficult. The next time she had seen him, hanging at her house with her brother as always, he had acted as if nothing had happened. He had greeted her with the same smile and talked to her in the same tone. Sana, on the other hand, had completely blocked him. She hadn’t talked to him, she just went to her bedroom ignoring his presence hoping that he would just accept it. But of course he didn’t. He had tried to contact her in every way possible but every time she would ignore him. She thought that eventually he would give up, just like the rest of her friends had, but more than a month had passed and he hadn’t. When she realized he wasn’t going to leave her alone any time soon she decided to talk to the only person that could help, her brother Elias. She told him everything. She remembered crying and crying during more than two hours on his brother’s shoulder while she told him everything that had happened between them, from the very first smile they had shared till that infamous afternoon at the karaoke club. Elias didn’t disappoint her, as soon as he knew the truth he did something, Sana wasn’t sure what but she knew he had done something ‘cause two days after she told Elias, the calls, the texts, the visits, everything just stopped. Yousef had finally given up on her.

She hadn’t talked to him since. She also hadn’t talked to her friends. The last year of high school had been a tough one but somehow she had managed to make it through. She knew that they didn’t win any prize for their bus but they didn’t seem to really care. Also, she knew that after awhile, Yousef and Noora had started dating and as far as she knew –not that she had heard about them after high school ended- they were still together.  

After that she had gone abroad to study medicine at university and she had forgotten about everything and moved on.

Or maybe not.

‘Cause now there she was, almost 8 years later, giving a speech about pediatric surgery, her specialty, and being unable to finish it because certain boy from her past had just walked in.

Normally, when she gave her speeches, and she was used to give a lot because, well, she was really good at her job, she wouldn’t notice any movement in the public, she would just say what she needed to say, focus on the door or one empty chair or any other object and not let anything bother her. But of course she hadn’t thought about the fact that sometimes doors get opened and people walk in.

She could feel over 50 pairs of eyes on her, waiting for her to continue with her speech. But she couldn’t, she just stared at him, right in those brown eyes she had dreamt about so many times. He was looking back at her, eyes widened, mouth slightly opened in shock. She didn’t know how much time had passed since he had walked in the room, maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours but it wasn’t until he changed his expression and smiled at her that she realized what she was doing and shook her head trying to focus.

She cleared her throat, drank from her glass of water and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry” she said and then she continued with her speech, this time focusing in the bald man who was sitting on the front row.

Whose idea was having a reception after the conference? A reception meant that she had to stay in a room surrounded by people who could talk to her whenever they wanted. In any other moment she wouldn’t mind, but knowing who was among that people she felt vulnerable. She tried to stay out of sight, hiding behind every big group of people talking she could find so he wouldn’t be able to spot her. But she was Sana Bakkoush and Sana Bakkoush wasn’t that lucky.

“Sana?” she heard a voice calling her.

She could feel her whole body shaking. That voice, it hadn’t changed in all this time. The same soft voice that would break sometimes becoming just a whisper. There was no avoiding now, she was a grown up 24 years old woman. She was mature enough to face him. Because, hiding under the table wasn’t very mature, right? She rolled her eyes at her thoughts, she was being stupid. She took a deep breath and turned around.

He looked….exactly the same. It was as if she was back in high school, looking at him from the other side of the room every time he would come to her house to be with her brother. She squinted her eyes to take a good look of him. Maybe he had changed a little bit. His hair was definitely shorter and she could see a sign of stubble in his face, which made him even more attractive, not that she cared about that.

“I’m Yousef…Yousef Acar?” he clarified seeing the look on her face.

“I know who you are” she said

“Oh, sorry, you just were looking at me in a weird way. Thought maybe you didn’t remember me”

“I do”

“Cool” he nodded awkwardly. “Wow, how long has it been? 7 years? 8?”

7 years, 9 months and 23 days she thought once again.

“Yeah, something like that” she said

“How are you? I mean, I see that you’re doing great Doctor Bakkoush”

“I can’t complain, I guess”

“Pediatric surgery, huh? I knew you were studying medicine but I never thought you would pick kids”

“I told you I liked kids” she said

He raised his eyebrows surprised at the fact that she remembered a conversation they had had so many years ago. Even Sana was surprised at herself for saying that, she really didn’t want him to think that she still thought about him, ‘cause she didn’t, maybe.

“You did say that, but you also said you only wanted 2 kids so…”

“Well, no everyone that likes kids wants 12 you know?”

“Fair enough”

“So, what are you doing here?” she didn’t mean to sound that bitter

“Oh, I’m a pediatrician too”

“You are? What about teaching?”

“I changed my mind” he shrugged “I’m not really into the conference thing but when I saw that you were the one giving the speech I had to come”

“You knew I was here?” she asked frowning

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like I was stalking you or anything” he said brushing his hair off his face even thought it wasn’t there, same old Yousef “I got an email advertising the conference and it felt like it was a signal”

Sana nodded, not knowing what to say. There was a question on the tip of her tongue willing to come out even though she really didn’t want to know the answer.

“How’s Noora?” she blurted out more quickly than she wanted to.

“Noora?” he asked confused

“Yeah, aren’t you still together?”

“What? No. No, no, no. Noora and me? No. We only dated for like two weeks after…well, you know”

“Two weeks? I saw you together almost every day of my last year at high school, you would pick her up at school. I saw you together at graduation.”

“We were just friends back then. I mean, we did try to date for a few weeks but eventually we realized that me and her was a mistake. Everything happened between us was a mistake” he said remarking the word “everything”.


“We stayed friends, though. It was like we connected over…well, over losing someone important” he bit his tongue trying not to say what he really thought. He and Noora had bonded over losing Sana and had become great friends after that. But what had happened between them, that kiss, had haunted both of them since then.

They both stayed in silence, but unlike before it wasn’t an awkward silence anymore, more like a nostalgic silence. Both of them were thinking of what they could’ve had and never did.

“So, how’s your life? Are you…are you dating someone?” he asked blushing

“Oh, no, no. I’ve been focused on my career to be honest”

“I’m not dating anyone either” he said and she raised her eyebrows at him “And you haven’t asked me to answer the question and still I just did…sorry”

“No, it’s fine. I’m…sorry to hear that” she said almost questioningly.

“Well I’m not…not really. I mean it’s not like I haven’t tried, but I’ve never found anyone that makes me feel the way you’re supposed to feel when you’re in love”

“And how do you know how you’re supposed to feel?” she asked

“Because I felt that way once, a long time ago…almost 8 years ago” he said looking straight into her eyes.

She felt her heart beating faster and faster on her chest, her hands sweating. She wanted to say something, anything but she couldn’t. All she could do was look into his eyes and get lost in them.

“Sana…”he whispered but he was interrupted by an older woman who had approached them

“I’m sorry to interrupt but Sana dear, there are a few colleagues I’d like you to meet” she said pointing a two women that where standing at the other side of the room

“Um, sure. I’ll go in a minute” Sana said

The woman nodded and left them alone again.

“Well, it seems like I have to go.” She said walking backwards to leave

“Wait. Do you think that maybe we could meet some time? Grab a coffee or something? For old time sake” he asked biting his lip

“Sure, that’ll be nice. Call me” she said

“I don’t have your number”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way to get it, you’ve always been a resourceful guy” she said smiling and finally turning around to leave.

He looked at her while she walked away and smiled to himself.

Same old Sana Bakkoush leaving Yousef Acar shook. It was as though no time had passed.


This is it!

I really hope you’ve liked it and I’m sorry if I disappointed you

Thank you so much to everyone for reading it! 

Also to the anon that sent me another prompt, I’m working on it but I’m not sure if I’ll have it today, I’ll try but I’m not sure. Thank you for trusting me!!

1. Searching

Pairing: Jack Morrison/Gabriel Reyes

Words: 779

Warnings: None really. 

Author’s Note: This is before the recall and Jack doesn’t know Gabriel is Reaper, yet. Will maybe make a part 2 of this. Also I’m sorry for it being bad written ect, I haven’t written anything in english since I was like 14-15.  If any sentence is wrong I’d appreciate if you could tell me! 

This is a part of this inktober for writers prompt list. All my work will be tagged. 


He pulled out a drawer. Empty. Just as empty as the other drawers he have already searched. This was getting stupid. He did not even have a explanation for being here. Just that he remembered something. Something Gabe had told him all those years ago.

“For God’s sake Gabe. Could you have been more vague?”

He stood in a office. Gabes old office. It was dark and empty. Dust visible on every surface. Spiderwebs in the corners. He dragged his fingers across the table surface. They left a trail. He’d been in this office countless of times. He’d always found a excuse to come here, to Gabes annoyance. At first. After a few months Gabe was used to having him there. So used to it that he felt relieved when he heard the knocking on the door.

The white haired man sighed.

He remember how many times he’d kissed Gabe here. Calling him sweet names while kissing his bare neck. How many times Gabe had convinced him that this desk was the perfect spot to have some fun.

He chuckled at the thought. Those were the days. The happy days. Before everything changed. Before all the fun became endless arguments and sad excuses.

He pulled out the bottom drawer. It was filled with… paper?

“Paper? Your computer not good enough for you? Killing trees for this huh?” He picked up the pile and dumped it on the desk. A cloud of dust flew up.

The man coughed. He waved a hand around his face.

“I think you need to clean and dust the place.” The man said out to the empty space. He wasn’t expecting an answer. Hadn’t for years. Gabe was gone. But Jack was still talking to him. He was talking to him when he needed to relax. Talking to him while eating. Talking to him before he fell asleep. Telling him how his day was and how he wished everything could just end. 

Jack looked around the office. He’d been here for an hour. Been searching for something he didn’t even know what it was. He felt like giving  up but he remembered Gabes face when he had told him. 

I’ve left something in the office for you. 

He remembered how a few minutes later everything had changed. 

“I can’t find it Gabe.” Jack sat down in the chair. The chair made a painful creak. Everything in this place was old, mistreated and broken. Just like him. Once again the man chuckled. Coming back here was a bad idea. Too many memories.

He sighed. He was tired. Tired of this. Having to deal with the demons of his past.

Something caught his attention. Hidden beneath all paper was a tiny box. He picked it up, examined it. It took a few seconds before he realised what it was. He swallowed hard. He removed his visor. He could hardly see anything in the dark but he wanted to see this with his own eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he opened the box. When he saw the ring he cried out.

“Gabe you piece of shit.” He hid his face in his hands. Tears was rolling down his cheeks. The ring was a surprise, something he hadn’t expected. Their relationship hadn’t been the best when it all happened. He wondered how long Gabe had kept this. He probably got this before everything went bad. Before their conversations had become arguments. Before their dinners had become small messages saying: I got work. Heat something up.

The ring was simple. Made of some dark metal. It looked black in the dark. Was this what Gabe wanted him to find? All those years ago when he’d told Jack he left something in the office meant for him.

“You wanted to marry me Gabe?”

No answer. No special question. The office was still quiet. Empty. Deserted. Jack realised how alone he was. The feeling was crushing him. The weight on his shoulders were too great. He couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry Gabriel. I’m so sorry.” He whimpered.

But there was no one there to forgive him. No one there to tell him everything was okay. That everything would be fine.

He finally managed to take a deep breath. He needed to get out of here. Fast. He left the office. The only trace someone been there was the trail in the dust. The footprints on the floor and the drawers being opened. The office was once again quiet and empty.

The memories it behold still lingering. Like a secret. Like a memorial.

The tiny box was left behind on the desk. Like the office the box was also empty. Its own secret now revealed.

lollergator  asked:

Those little yellow glasses and that hairstyle... You remind me of an animator that disappeared a few years ago. He was one of my favorite cartoonists, and HIS name was Ben... You wouldn't perhaps be CMSPyrowolf, would you?

I’m absolutely surprised you and several other people have actually brought this up alongside Cyber Moon Studios (Hence the CMS).  

That would, in fact, be me, that is correct.  CMSPyrowolf was my older Youtube account name that I pretty much abandoned years ago.  I had started to feel discouraged from animating so I sort of took a break from video stuff.  

Then PONIES just became a thing out of the blue.  I saw FiM and went “Hey, they use Flash like I did, maybe I can come close to doing something like that.”

So then that all happened.

Before all that though, people knew me more for 2 particular videos.  

8 Bit Dungeons and Dragons (I did the sprite animation, not the audio)

and Boot to the Head (Phoenix Wright Edition) - (Also did the sprite animation, not the audio)

So if any of ya’ll have heard of those two things, hiya~

“Are you a scientist too, Ajay?”

“Journalist major actually, but I enjoy writing about a wide variety of things. I did a paper a few years ago on the pros and cons of scientific discovery that enhanced sims life versus the risk, or cost of such discovery. I wrote a whole section on your dad and his Cleanbot.”

This was where most groupies mentioned maybe meeting her father, but Ajay just smiled at her like he’d just won a big stuffed animal at the fair. Cassie smiled back. She was intrigued.

“What kind of examples did you use?”

“Well, take your father’s Cleanbot. Mechanism of something usually involves job loses in some respect. Also there’s the environmental impact of manufacturing to consider.”

2015 --> 2016

Mark and I were talking about how the “golden age of Tumblr” was, for us, somewhere between 2009 and 2012, when music writers amateur and professional traded ideas and interactions across literally hundreds of thousands of words on this micro-blogging website, flattening the divide between amateur and professional in a way that was honestly thrilling. If you had something to say of value, you’d reblog it onto someone else’s post, and maybe win yourself a follow or a like, and then in a few months you could e-mail that person about becoming their intern. (I did, and it almost worked!) 

Today, that network doesn’t really exist. There are lots of younger writers, yes, and they’re chopping it up in ways that are obviously exciting if you take an interest in younger writers and “the future of discourse,” whatever that is. But there’s much less contribution from established writers, for a few reasons:

1. Twitter: This is where the majority of all “public discourse” takes place, inasmuch as “the public discourse that shapes the narratives and opinions of any contained media ecosystem.” If you’re a music, sports, movies, games writer, whatever, you’re probably on Twitter, and using it too much. If you’re not: Congrats!

2. Money: In 2015, you can probably get paid writing something that, a few years ago, would have been a free Tumblr post. That’s fine, I guess, even as—IMO—a lot of writers could do a better job recognizing what ideas are worth legitimizing in a public venue, for cash. (But maybe I’m just being petty.)

3. Time: Who has time to use Tumblr?

All of these are fine reasons for older people to stop using Tumblr. We did spend a lot of time on here! We were also not getting paid for it, at all. But in terms of serving as a medium for public conversation amongst peers, there’s no doubt in my mind that Tumblr was better than Twitter. No doubt! You could respond to each other at length, in real time, in a format that showed where the conversation had begun and where it was. You could do it with writing, instead of 140-character wannabe-koan bursts of limited logic. 

I mean, I love Twitter at times, it’s great for memes and Weird Twitter and the spread of (accurately sourced) news and finding out what people are reading. But I refuse to accept that anyone but the most basic contrarian could insist a medium that intentionally limits the expression of writing could be the best medium for writing. And yet Twitter is what all the writers use! It’s awful. I think it just stinks. Everyone’s just bickering and posturing over there, and no discussions get had but the angriest, least nuanced ones, because you can’t be nuanced in 140 characters without tweeting a bunch of times in a row, and then God, you’re just tweeting a bunch of times in a row, and if you don’t do it now—if you wait to collect your thoughts—then you’re the guy tweeting about something hours after it happened

Anyways, this is the way it works now. I’m complaining, and maybe it’s just that. It’s out of my hands, and any attempt to prescribe a solution or alternative would make me look like a Luddite. Besides, there are enough very smart and good people who use Twitter without really using Twitter that make it obvious this is not the solely dominant mode of communication amongst the so-called “media professional” class. (People do still communicate through… writing.) I do think that if more people were on here instead of on there, then better conversations would take place… but just because I see the value in opting out doesn’t mean everyone else does, or would. 

All of which is to say opting out remains a valuable strategy across all walks of life, not just Tumblr and Twitter (ha ha). 2015 was an up and down year for me, mostly up, only down in the places when I wasn’t sure what to do and didn’t figure it out until a few months too late. A lot of that divining process involved stepping back and thinking hard about what I really wanted to do, instead of sitting and bitching about what wasn’t going right. So, if I can delete my entire Twitter history, you can too (or its metaphorical equivalent). That I’m finding my way to a “life lesson” by talking about Tumblr and Twitter is not lost on me, but uh, I already knew my brain was diseased with online. I’m just trying to deal with it. Happy New Year’s!