this was made for someone that asked

Man fuck school those were the worst years. uni is so much easier to cope with

All ya’ll still in school Im hella proud of you for lasting this long, your final score barely matters (nobody even the uni asked for mine) and all you need to do is survive, even if you have to drag yourself through it. ;v; (coming from someone who had to repeat a year and still got a hella low score) Dont push yourself too hard, the education system has been messed up for a long time and only tests memory, not your intelligence. You are far more important than numbers. The heavy weight will be lifted off your shoulders when you’re done~ Good luck!!


Here it is guys! My first Saimatsu fic ever! It’s inspired by a question Maki asked Shuichi in chap. 4 and not too lengthy. Mostly fluff + mild angst and criticism is appreciated!

“Did you…like Kaede?”

Shuichi was confused, almost taken aback, by the blunt delivery of Maki’s pressing question. Before he could even fully comprehend what she had asked him, the subject averted towards her own concern.

“Well… I assumed you didn’t, because that would be weird. Liking someone you just met…especially in a situation like this…”

An image of himself sitting with Kaede back in the classroom had flashed into his thoughts. His head was bent downwards to avoid eye contact with her and mask his unease, but she had made the notion to hold his hand for comfort. The palm of her hand laid gently on top of his, and the sunset illuminated the classroom in a golden light that enhanced the radiance of her smile. It was his fondest memory of her because they confided to trust in each other’s guidance and help each other overcome their greatest insecurities.

“Then tell me…under what circumstances is liking someone *not* weird?” Shuichi retorted.

“ I…don’t know. I don’t really understand what that is…nevermind. Just forget I ever asked.”

“Forget you asked? Why did you bring this up, Maki?”

“…No reason. I was only curious.”

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by Kaito, who had returned from his bathroom break. The trio begrudgingly completed their training and returned their separate ways to their dorms. As Shuichi laid in his bed, he couldn’t get the thought of Maki’s question out of his head. He had already found difficulty in sleeping for a full night since their first day, and usually spent the duration of those long hours in contemplation. Did he like Kaede? Despite their mutual intimacy, the idea of romance hardly crossed his mind in their limited time spent together. He thought about when they first met, when he stumbled out of a locker after regaining his consciousness, how utterly disoriented he felt in every way possible until he encountered her. The two were initially skeptical of each other, but an instinct of his implied that she was a genuine and dependable person to have around in their current situation. He was drawn to her intellect, perseverance, and compassion, and her natural leadership ability kept his spirit enlivened as they first seeked to find a means of escape. He felt discouraged to see the others turn against her leadership because he had quickly grown to trust and believe in her, and he saw something in her that even she didn’t see in herself. He admired the subtle and dedicated nature of her character, the very ardor that inspired him to believe in his instincts as a detective and devise a plan to expose the mastermind with her. He adored listening to her talk endlessly about her infatuation and enthusiasm for playing the piano throughout her lifetime, and held the piece Clair De Lune by Debussy close to himself because it was her personal recommendation to him and a reminder of their affinity. He loved the glimmer in her lilac eyes when she got excited, the music note-shaped pins that held her blonde hair back, the little box-shaped backpack she carried ‘handy’ items in, and the musical pattern in her flowy skirt, all her signature trademarks. He was grateful to have her around because she made him feel like he was a good person, and as an expression of gratitude he always willingly aided her. He respected her for acknowledging her weaknesses to him in those final hours as an act of showing complete faith in each other’s intuition. He found himself closer to her than anyone he’d become acquainted with before in his life, and despite her misguided actions, he refused to condemn her as a villain and concluded that her sacrifice was ultimately her grandest gesture. In truth, she was the greatest person he’d ever gotten the chance of knowing, and he cherished her in his heart. As he laid in his bed, recollecting his memories of the time they’d spent together, he quietly spoke to himself,

“Yes. I have always, always, always, always been in love with Kaede Akamatsu.”

If you ever say “were you on drugs when you made this” or “so you have schizophrenia” or anything along those lines when asking about someone’s creative though process, I want you to know you’re boring. You are no more interesting than old dog shit on a hot pavement. You’re a loser and should shut up because you don’t have anything worth while to say

anonymous asked:

that sherlock comic thing u made with the egg is honest to god the funniest thing i've ever seen thank u

ASFKGJH that post is 500 years old but thanks

anonymous asked:

As a fellow Naganadel lover I have to ask... how do you pronounce it's name?? I've heard like 4 difference variants already.

If you look at the words Naganadel is made up of there’s only one correct way. Naganadel comes from 2 words, neither of which are English:

 - Nāga, the Hindu snake deities that are the reason I love this Pokemon essentially and easily my favorite part about my religion (can refer to either the whole species or just the males, female ones are called Nāgi or Nāgini, yes that’s why Voldemort’s snake was named that)

 - Nadel, German for pin or needle. 

If you wanna transliterate the pronunciations into English, you arrive at something like NĀ-guh-NAH-duhl. I’m really bad at writing phonetic things like that, but the first syllable is the kind of ‘a’ that sounds like an ‘o’ in practice, sort of like it rhymes with ‘saw’ but not quite. The second syllable is easy enough it’s just “guh”, the third syllable is the trickiest but it’s similar to the first ‘NA’ sound, and then the last ‘del’ sound is more like the ‘-dle’ in needle, as opposed to “Dell”. 

If none of that made sense, just pronounce “Naga” like Korra pronounced it in the Legend of Korra, and look up pronunciation videos for the German word “-nadel”. Do NOT look up videos for Naga though, the majority of the ones I found earlier were wrong or implied that there were different ways to say it (there isn’t). 

swings ig live 11.23.17
  • he’s in  an airport in canada and abt to go to new york
  • he wants to release an album
  • he’s been playing for about 6 days so he feels like he’s wasting time
  • cjamm and blacknut are next to him. someone asked where hamin was and swings said that he made fun of hamin’s clothes and hamin got sad and went off somewhere
  • swings said that everyone should go watch him on mix 9

anonymous asked:

👎 Would my muse ever cheat on their partner?

Roka is by default polyamorous, and openly so. Her partners are made aware if she is seeing someone else, though not always by name, and of what the current status of said relationships are if asked (some people don’t always want to know exactly what you’re doing with someone else, some do. She respects the choice and won’t shove information in their face there). She is capable of monogomy with a partner she cares for deeply, and in those instances her loyalty is unwavering so long as she is not neglected. If a monogomous partner fails to find time for her, or make sure to see her regularly, she will generally ask to open the relationship up as opposed to cheating or ending it, in order to fulfill her somewhat needy nature.

jasperzilla  asked:

Tell us about your sona!

omg i just saw this ask 

i’m sorry friendo tumblr mobile doesn’t like to notify me about ANYTHING since it updated for me.

buuuut i guess kris is the closest thing to a sona i got, so…

my boy.

my SON-

i harp on and on about kris a lot tbh. ya just followed me like today so you haven’t seen it yet but i love love love this dumb cat so much.hd him around for about a year or so i wanna say? sounds dumb but writing/drawing him and his friends has really kept my head above water the past couple months.

but he’s great. he’s cute and he likes donuts and coffee. he’s prone to be sleepy a lot coz that’s literally me irl all the time but he still will go out and wreck shit with someone if they ask.

fun fact: kris came from a joke my brother made about some stupid shit called “carl kitten” (I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS) and i just thought, “i want a cat character tbh. It’d be cute as fuck.”

he also went through like ten different iterations before just being a pop punk donut cat. i originally wanted him to be a weird genetic experiment kinda like rocket raccoon from gotg. then he was a douchey guy who had a small man complex. but ultimately i decided he’s a good thing for me to project myself onto. i have a whole thing planned for him (i post shit about that a lot too, ignore my trash writing, buddy) and it’s pretty cool i guess.

so he’s me, in summary, but in the form of a tiny, stupid cat. and i love him. :D

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry to bother you, but do things really get better? I'm 16 right now and everything I know is sadness and exhaustion and anger and then I talk to my parents and they just complain about adult life... is it worth it to go on?

oh gosh, i promise, it’s worth waiting, buddy. i know there are a lot of people who say, oh it gets better. and it does in some ways, but what it really gets is different. the people who are angry and mean and horrible often stay that way. the people who cut you off or who flip you off or who piss you off often are the same people at 16 as at 26. 

i think i hated people telling me “it gets better” because what could get better about being a mentally ill queer cuban girl in a world that wanted to eat me. i got spat out. my writing isn’t published because i’ve been rejected so many times i don’t even notice anymore. i was told a few times “make it less obviously homosexual”. what is going to get better about that, i said to myself. the memory of it will never be a nice one.

things got different slowly. like i didn’t realize until i was far on the other side of it. i wasn’t kidding in that last post when i said today i read my writing at 15 and it was painfully obvious how depressed i was. i didn’t have a diagnosis. like you, all i knew was that i was exhausted and angry and sad all the time and when i talked about it, i was told “everyone feels that way sometimes.” i felt that way all the time. in this story, i don’t suddenly wake up after turning 18 and have a magical life where it is all bunnies and flowers and loving. it took me 3 years of trying before i finally managed to quit self-harm completely. my eating disorder and i are still not on speaking terms, luckily. i’m slowly getting a handle on my ocd. i didn’t realize that the biggest thing that was changing was me.

yeah. being out of the house made it easier. away from where people knew me as a certain person. being someone new or being who i was or being in a room full of people who didn’t care how gay i was. being in control made it better. finding real and true friends made it better. being able to make my own plans and choose my own story and do more than just wait until i was old enough to be taken seriously - it got better.

but honestly it’s me. i learned how to shake hands with depression, he and i are such good old buddies i sometimes see him before he’s even coming. and i’ve gotten so good at getting out of his embrace, because practice makes perfect, same as anything. and i’ve learned things about myself i had no idea about at 16. i didn’t even realize i’m funny. i had never been skinny dipping. my only kiss had been sort of an accident. there was a lot i cared about then that i don’t care about now, because in my new world outside of that, the people i surround myself with don’t care either. i’ve worn a dinosaur onesie pajama set to eight parties now when 19 year old me wouldn’t be seen without her makeup. i wear glasses in public even though i’m nervous they make me look like a bug. i have tattoos and new piercings and a bank account (and no money) and i have love. and i don’t mean with a partner, although i’m blessed enough to say i have that as well - i mean. i just found it. i taught myself how to look for it. i figured - listen, i’m here still, so i might as well, like, try to enjoy it. and it wasn’t overnight. it still goes away sometimes. but i love so much and so easily now. i laugh more because of it. i let myself love dogs and movies and silly things. and this love sort of … makes things better. because it reflects off of everything into you. like a mirror.

at sixteen… at sixteen i was very suicidal. i didn’t know that it applied to me, because i thought i was just annoying and lazy. looking back now i always pull a face at how obvious it was, and how close i got to walking myself into a grave. it was more than a close call. death, like, waved. i actually believed i wouldn’t make it past 18. what was the point? what was the point of anything? i think if i’d told myself then, “it gets better”, i would have laughed. “maybe for you!” i would have said, “you have money and a life and you’re not like this.” but it did get better. in inches. stick around to see it. stick around to see everything wonderful that’s waiting in the wings for you. that knows your name. a fate of beautiful moments that are small and precious, like butterflies landing on fingers or snowflakes on tongues, or just sitting with a good book during the rainfall. hell, stick around to write the book, because (trust me), if you believe in your art and yourself - it can be done.

stick around most of all because what gets better is you fall in love with yourself. the world doesn’t become suddenly sickeningly sweet, even if the people around you become better and you’re given more opportunity. that’s wonderful too but… what happens is that over time, the stuff they told you stops sticking. you realize that just because your nose is crooked it doesn’t even matter because it doesn’t stop you from being the best dang ping pong player in your family. you realize you have a family, even if they’re not blood. you realize you are your own family. and you learn to take care of yourself and yes, it gets ugly at times, but you manage. and inside of managing there’s all these wonderful successes like mac and cheese and getting the bills done and the smell of clean laundry and friends that make you laugh so hard you almost pee and an apartment with plants in every corner and a hairless cat in sweaters or a dog with a bowtie or both and watching movies and reading books and seeing art, all of which haven’t been created yet, and possibly you’re the one who makes them. and managing … managing doesn’t have to be big. sometimes it’s just making a small difference. and sometimes the person you make a difference to is yourself. and that’s amazing.

stick around because, trust me, somewhere in there, you meet your younger self in your dreams and you tell her - oh gosh, i promise, it’s worth waiting, buddy.


Carmilla in three words / Carmilla in one body movement

Got asked to "step down" from a position.

Years ago, I taught Sunday school on a voluntary basis at a megachurch in my town. There were so many children in this church that classrooms were made available to group children with Sunday school teachers for every year of their life until middle school and high school, at which point they attended a larger group with similarly aged peers in separate wings of the building. I taught two-year-olds, and loved every moment of it.

My classroom boasted a huge number of children, at about 20-25 per service. I was supposed to have an adult co-teacher, but all the other adult volunteers were sent to other classrooms with a “higher need”. I had two high-school-aged volunteers, best friends, who often spent service time playing together, despite repeated approaches to asking them to play with the children (one of my volunteers was the director’s son, who I couldn’t replace because of his mother, and who clearly did not want to be volunteering).

Despite this, and despite inheriting a huge classroom full of several special needs children, my children played calmly throughout service, and enjoyed a routine and simple rules I set to run the classroom efficiently. Children arrived, played calmly, sang songs, ate snack, and went home.

Even in the face of this obvious evidence that my classroom was running efficiently, I was repeatedly asked by church leaders to adopt certain mannerisms around children I found inauthentic and frankly patronizing. I don’t and won’t speak in a high-pitched voice to anyone, child or adult. I don’t and won’t use words like “upsie daisy”. These requests were persistent. It was the opinion of the church that I was not “warm and welcoming” enough. It was modeled again and again that the church would prefer I was overanimated in a HUGE SMILE HUG “I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE” kind of greeting.

One summer day we were all called (some 50+ room leaders and volunteers) into a mandatory meeting. You know those meetings where you instantly know they’re talking about you? The policies on words like “upsie daisy” were now set in writing, and I was shortly asked to step down for not using these phrases. I was not allowed to prepare my children for the transition to a new Sunday teacher. I was immediately replaced (by a friend, actually) and was fairly crushed about the sudden break from little people I liked spending time with. And furthermore, it made me question my abilities to work with children, an endeavor I had already devoted my life to.

Unbeknownst to my church, I had long been working at a career in early childhood intervention, teaching a classroom full of two-year-old child victims of trauma and abuse with a heavy case load of special needs children. My coworker called me over one Monday, as I was the twos teacher, asking what I made of this email she had just received concerning a church with an out-of-control twos room requesting that someone come consult with their new staff and help implement some new classroom techniques to “manage difficult behaviors”.

Naturally, I agreed to do the consult in person as soon as possible, and asked my coworker to let them know I would meet with them on a completely voluntary basis at their next Sunday service.

It was absolutely my pleasure to greet my church leaders and friend as their specialist consultant, to their confused surprise.

I walked them through all sorts of interventions and strategies I had previously used to create a calm classroom environment and strongly advised against the use of overly excited greetings and phrases like “upsie daisy” in place of direct redirective requests (e.g. “Please put your feet back on the floor.”) It was my strong written recommendation that the written policies on these strategies be amended and for staff to be immediately retrained in accordance with actual therapeutic practices.

It was my last time stepping foot in that church, and will forever remain my most deliciously cherished memories of vindication.

#this is not going to go…the way you think !

2017 version of that —> one


update: i’m still here, still gay, and man…#allurafro

micaxiii  asked:

can you recommend any ZaDR fics?

OKAY, NOT GONNA LIE, I’VE BEEN MAKING A LIST??? CAUSE WOW <3 I’ve been reading them a lot lately and I HIGHLY recommend:

Dig Your Own Grave and Bury The Hatchet

This one is my fuckin favorite. I believe it was the second one I REALLY got invested in?? But I LOVE how they portray Zim and Dib and how the chemistry happens and I… IM SO SAD IT WON’T UPDATE FOR A LONG WHILE OTL It’s written so well and the satirical shit both boys throw at one another is amazing?? By far my favorite v/w/v I want everyone to read it //cries. And here’s some other nice ones!

Polaris - This one took me a bit to get into but it got interesting as the story moved along, especially when shit starts goin down. I do like the slow ass burn to the eventual ZADR and the other characters are pretty interesting :> I finished it within like…2 days cause I’m a trash bag hungry for more. 

Challenge - NSFW, an AU where Dib’s a sex worker and Zim is actually a great Invader with actual bros. I really??? Like sex worker AUs???? I made one with fuckin Usopp/Sanji back in my One Piece phase, BUT THIS ONE!! I loved how beautifully written it was. It was my first ZADR fic that like set me off on this journey to read more. I really relate to Zim in this one like…goddamn. 

Here and Now - Just finished this one and I… I gotta say I liked the angle this one went with (As you can see this is the writer for Challenge) and I’m. Fucking. Alive. lol, I love the direction for Zim’s character, particularly in one of the chapters when he discovers something, sort of a revelation and it’s just… Goddamn. I also love the chapters where they text to one another v/w/v <3 It’s a really sweet one!

Goodbye to a World - A VERY interesting one I also finished today! I’m captivated by what the fuck is gonna happen next cause damn does the shit hit the fan in this one. Very great for the writer’s FIRST FIC <3 I enjoyed ;w; Also has some art in there too v/w/v 


That’s what I’ve read so far ;w; I’m currently looking for more to read and I can update this as I go along ;> I’m so excited, it’s been a LONG time since I’ve gotten so into a series I’ve actively searched for fics to read as well. It’s ..intense. My otp is so strong rn.