til monday

Decided to learn how to draw proper chibis today, so I made a draw the squad thing. Hope I did ok. If you use it I’d love to be tagged in it so I can see your awesome work!~ 

3, 2, and 1 chibi versions under the cut! all are transparent! feel free to cut my sig out, just please don’t claim ownership of the drawing. reblogs > reposts, of the base alone I mean.

Go to town ^~^

Keep reading

Something’s wrong.

 Even can tell the moment he sees Isak after their first class. Someone who doesn’t know him might not be able to tell, but the two of them have spent more time together than many people would say is healthy, and by now they know all the little details of each others’ body language. Even sees the way Isak’s shoulders slump just a little bit, how his eyes turn to the floor rather than the hallway in front of him, how the little dandelion Even picked this morning on their way to school is no longer tucked behind his ear, and something is obviously very, very wrong.

 Even has no idea why. Isak was so happy earlier this morning, beaming with that dandelion behind his ear as they said goodbye before going to class. He would like to talk to him about it, but he barely has time to kiss him on the cheek and say hello before the boys join them. Magnus and Mahdi instantly pick up where the conversation from earlier this morning left off - something about one of the shitty movies they watched this weekend - and Even doesn’t blame them for it. They’ve spent little to no time alone with Isak; of course they haven’t learned how to read him. Jonas, on the other hand, sees it immediately, and he looks at Even like he’s asking; Do you know what this is about?

 Even shakes his head ever so slightly; he barely moves at all. But Jonas sees it, and now he’s looking at Isak, obvious concern in his eyes. Isak doesn’t look back at him; his eyes are on the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Never on Jonas, never on Even.

 They don’t get to talk for several hours after this; there’s no time. Not that Even would want to have this kind of conversation at school; it’s a conversation that should be saved for when they’re safe back inside the walls of their home. This doesn’t mean they don’t talk about it at all. They talk silently, through their little movements, while they sit closely together in the cafeteria at lunch. Even tries to look Isak in the eye. What’s wrong? Isak looks back up at him for a second, shakes his head, looks away. Leave it.

 They both know he won’t.

They walk back home in silence. Not the comfortable kind, but the kind that means they should talk but don’t. Isak doesn’t want to, Even doesn’t know how to. So instead, they walk in silence.

 Eventually, though, Even recognizes the small patch of dandelions that they passed this morning, and he can’t help but smile. He turns to Isak. “Hey, you.”

 Isak looks up just as Even lets go of his hand and turns away from him to pick one of the flowers. Turning back, he gently strokes Isak’s cheek as he tucks the little flower behind his ear. This, finally, brings a smile to Isak’s face. A small one, but still; it’s a smile. He looks up to meet Even’s gaze for a split second, before turning back to the pavement below them.

 That’s the final push that Even needs.

 “Hey.”

 He slowly moves his hand from Isak’s ear back to his cheek, cupping his face. His thumb slowly moves up and down in gentle strokes, and Isak leans into the touch, closing his eyes. He looks almost relieved, like he’s finally allowed to rest after wandering for miles. He sighs deeply through his nose, and Even is so in love with him he can barely breathe. He lives for quiet moments like this; the moments that are intimate without the two of them necessarily being physically close. But Isak is hurting, and Even’s still worried. He slowly leans forward until their foreheads touch, breathes in and out; one, two, three times. Then he asks;

 “What’s wrong?”

 Isak sighs again. He sounds almost annoyed, like he’s wondering why they couldn’t just have this moment without bringing up the bad things again, and if it weren’t for the circumstances, Even would have been amused. “Nothing,” Isak mutters.

 Even allows a couple of silent seconds to pass; closing his eyes and opening them again. Isak’s hands feel warm against his arms. “No, it’s not nothing, Isak.”

 Isak slowly opens his eyes. His gaze is still glued to the ground. He shifts uncomfortably, but his forehead never leaves Even’s. “It’s fine, you… You don’t need to worry about it.”

 “Yes, I do. I always worry about you. It’s my job.”

Isak finally looks up, meeting Even’s gaze. He laughs a little, and it’s at least half genuine. A small victory, Even thinks. “I thought I was your support person, and not the other way around?”

 That actually makes Even laugh. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t know me. Maybe your parents pay me too.”

 Isak lets out a surprised, fake offended laugh. He playfully shoves Even away, still holding him but keeping him an arm’s length away. “What? Really?”

 “Yeah. It’s the only reason they let us move in together.”

 Isak shakes his head. “Well, this is it. I’m breaking up with you.”

 “No, why would you do that?” Even pouts, pulling the other boy back in.

 “Well, obviously I can’t date someone who makes deals with my parents behind my back!”

 “Why not? I put up with you.”

 “Yeah, but it’s different when it’s you.”

 “Oh, it is?”

 “Yeah!”

Isak won’t stop laughing, and Even’s heart melts into a puddle in his chest. This guy. Finally seeing him happy, even if it’s just for a moment, feels like coming home. The giggly kisses that follow come as naturally as breathing, their banter continuing as quiet mumbling during the short moments when their lips part.

 Eventually, though, Isak stops and just holds him, leaning his forehead against his chest as the smile slowly falls from his face. Even doesn’t push; doing so wouldn’t help, only make Isak return to his shell. He just holds him, resting his head on the other boys hair. They breathe; in and out, together.

 “It’s Sana.”

 The hint of a smile appears on Even’s face, out of pure relief that Isak is finally allowing him to help. Then, he frowns. “Did something happen to her?” The idea of Sana doing something, anything, to hurt Isak is completely out of the question to him. She’s one of the nicest people he’s ever met, and she’s even nicer when she’s with Isak. The two of them just seem to get each other, and if she’s upset about something Even can definitely see Isak being affected by it.

 “No. Or, well. I don’t know.” He pauses. Even feels his warm breaths against his chest. “She… She won’t talk to me.”

 It’s about the fight, Even realizes, and something sinks inside him. He pushes it away. Not now. This is about Isak.

 “Is it… Is it about Elias?”

 “She talked about him. Said she was sorry. But she wouldn’t keep talking to me after that.”

 Even isn’t sure what to say. He runs his hand through Isak’s curls, pressing little kisses to the top of his head. When he finally speaks up, he’s more quiet than he was earlier. “I think she just needs some time. This probably hasn’t been easy for her.”

“No. She hates me.” Isak says it half-jokingly, but there’s an unmistakable undertone that Even recognizes far too well. This is what Isak sounds like when his relationship with his parents is going through a particularly rough phase, or when something he did in the past comes back to haunt him, or when someone -once in a blue moon - gives their joint hands a weird look and all that shame comes rushing back to him. Even leans down to meet his gaze.

“Isak. She apologized to you, right? Why would she do that if she hates you?”

Isak’s eyes remain on the ground, and Even knows it’s not getting any better than this. Not today. He caresses the younger boy’s cheek again, moving up to his forehead and back down again; touching the bruise on his eye, carefully. Slowly, he presses a kiss to Isak’s lips. No tongue, no moving around; just a soft, simple kiss. “Hey.”

Isak’s eyes are closed. At the sound of Even’s voice they slowly open again; moving back up to the older boy’s eyes.

Even moves back in, gently rubbing his nose against Isak’s. “I love you. Okay?”

Isak’s mouth hangs open ever so slightly. Even loves it when he does that; it’s like he still can’t believe Even has said those words, as if they both haven’t already said them countless times. He smiles a little. “Okay.”

Then, after leaning in even closer to Even, he adds; “I love you too”, and Even decides that they’ll be fine. They’re always fine.

Leave This Town Pt 2 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Natasha, Wanda

Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

Song Inspiration: Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers

Warnings: none! The mildest of swearing I guess? 

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

A/N: Holy bananas, you guys. Once I started writing this part, I got carried away  and I’m probably extending this fic by a few parts. heh. I’m so in love with this story, and that’s probably why! I really hope you are too. Any thoughts and feedback are appreciated! I love you all!! :)

***This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5k AU Writing Challenge**

<<<Part One  Part Two   Part Three>>> 

Leave This Town Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

_________________________________________________

Originally posted by butteryplanet

Previously: 

“Try the Boysenberry Pie while you’re there. Even for breakfast, it really hits the spot.”

Taking a few steps backward, you gave him a smile, “I’ll do that,” then turning to walk away.“Oh, Y/N!” you heard him call after you and you whirled in place, surprised. 

“Keys. I need your keys.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Right. Sorry.” Digging into your purse followed by a toss of the keys, he caught them out of the air before you headed in the direction of the diner once again.

________________

A bell above the door jangled lightly as you entered the diner, the smell of hot grease hitting your nose. Straight ahead there was a counter with barstools, a view of the kitchen behind it. To both your left and right along the wall lined with windows, there were built-in booths with splitting vinyl cushions and spotted formica-covered tables.

The waitress behind the counter spoke, drawing your attention. “Hey, sweetie. Take a seat wherever you like, I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

“Okay,” you responded with a tight smile.

Choosing a booth, you dropped your bag and sat down. You looked around, seeing only 2 other customers currently sitting at the counter with coffee mugs in their hands. Moments later, a pretty redhead approached, wearing a sleeveless button-up flowered shirt and jeans under the apron around her waist. Bright red lipstick painted her lips as she talked to what looked like a regular customer. Probably a local.

Keep reading

Ugh

Guys

I’m so

Why is it that if you get a good grade and share it, it’s bragging? To the point where I feel legitimately ASHAMED if I get a good grade.

There’s this girl, the same girl who accuse me of bragging when I said “I thought I would be invited to PTK since I have a 4.0 and 12 credits and that meets the requirements” (I was, by the way, it was just late). I feel like she constantly tries to bring me down academically now.

For example, last week, a mandatory discussion board was posted for English bc we had a snow day Thursday, and the email said it was open til Monday. I posted something to snapchat about it and she was like “bro that was due on Thursday…” and I said “no it’s open til Monday” and she was like “yeah cause only me and two other people did it” and I was like “no it said in the email…” and then checked with my teacher and told her and she didn’t respond.

Today I posted about the 99 in soc on snapchat and she was like “didn’t you already take precalc in high school?” and I was like “no this is sociology” but like… I just feel like she’s trying to find some way to take me down a notch or something.

But the thing is, I can get good grades whether I’ve taken the class before or not? I hadn’t taken psych before and I ended up with an over 100% average. So saying “you took the class before” doesn’t mean the 99 is less valid.

Moreover, it’s not like I brag about my grades and don’t share my bad ones. I share all my grades, even the bad ones! It just happens that I work my ass off and I’m blessed to be naturally hardworking and organized and so I usually get good grades!

It’s gotten to the point where I feel GUILTY when I get a good grade because I feel like people are going to accuse me of bragging and try to bring me down. I feel like I should get a C because then when I share it people won’t accuse me of conceit.

That guy who dumped me during finals week said I was “academically intimidating” and that my confidence came off as me being conceited. He said he thought I thought he was below my standards academically (I legit never even thought about that). Do you know how AWFUL it made me feel to know I made someone FEEL that way?! Yes, it’s more his problem, but it happened.

I don’t know. I really don’t. I post about my grades on Snapchat and people call me out for “bragging” and think I’m conceited but like do you know how much fucking shit I have dealt with to get those grades?!?! Ugh. Anyway I’ll end this rant but I’m just so upset about this right now it’s unreal

anonymous asked:

20. babysitting together for msr pls??

Dear anon, I’m not sure this qualifies as babysitting together… it just turned out like this. And of course it got long again. 

Set in early season six.

Mulder knows Scully is home because there are noises coming from inside.

He’s knocked twice already and now he’s waiting, maybe a little bit impatiently; he’s worrying the edges of the case files he’s holding in his hands. The flimsy excuse for his visit.

About to knock again, the door opens, and at first Mulder, expecting Scully, doesn’t see the tiny person basically hanging from the door knob.

“Who are you?” Mulder lowers his eyes upon hearing the voice and blinks in confusion.

“This is- Dana Scully’s apartment?” The child stares up at him, imitating his blinking. The child, he can’t deny, looks eearily like Scully herself; red hair, but unruly, unbrushed, and big, blue, very curious eyes. His first thought is that he’s entered an alternate reality where Dana Scully, his partner, is nothing but a child.

“Aunty Dana there is a strange man here!” The small girl yells without taking her eyes off him. Of course, Mulder thinks and smiles at the girl who remains skeptical, narrowing her eyes. A Scully child, but not her; and definitely not hers. He tries to chase the thought away quickly, but the child… why does this girl look so much like Scully herself?

“Hannah, I told you not to- Mulder? What are you doing here?”

“I…uhm, there was something in this-“ He keeps staring at the child, who wears the same curious expression as Scully, in just a few sizes smaller.

“Is this the man Uncle Bill always complains about?” The girl, Hannah, asks, gazing up at Mulder.

“That sounds like me.” Mulder smiles, but the girl remains wary.

“Mulder, this is my niece Hannah,” Scully’s voice sounds like an endless sigh, “She is Charlie’s daughter.” He expects her to give more details, but she doesn’t. Judging by her look she is waiting for him to say his piece and leave her alone again.

“Hi, Hannah. Uhm, Scully I was wondering if I could talk to you about this case but… I didn’t know your brother was here.”

“He’s not,” Hannah quickly interjects, “he and mommy are on a date. That’s why I get to stay with aunt Dana. I like her a lot.” Mulder nods, fully understanding the child. There’s no one else he’d rather spend time with either. That’s the whole reason he’s here after all.

“What is a case, aunt Dana? Can Mulder come in and play with us?” He does his best to look harmless and puts on a pouty smile. Two against one is unfair, he realizes, but he’s shameless.

“All right, Mulder can come in.” Scully, still in sighing mood, opens the door to let Mulder inside. Apparently this is the sign for Hannah to completely claim him for herself. She takes his hand and almost forcefully leads him over to the couch. There’s a huge box of Legos next to Scully’s usually impeccable couch table. Mulder admires the colorful, child made construct.

“Did you make this?” Hannah nods proudly and grins, showing him a nice combination of baby teeth and empty spaces.

“It’s a space ship,” she tells him and Mulder quickly glances at Scully, whose face is unreadable. “Aunt Dana says aliens are gray. My daddy told me they’re green.”

“Oh, did she?” Mulder can’t help the grin on his face just like Scully can’t hide the blush that spreads on hers. “But she’s right, you know.”

“I want to go to space when I’m big. Do you think I can? Aunt Dana says I can.”

“You know what? You should always listen to what your aunt Dana tells you. She is really smart and almost always right. And I’m absolutely certain you can go to space when you’re big.” Hannah turns to look at Scully, a big fat grin on her face.

“Mulder, you wanted to talk to me about a case?”

“But Mulder needs to help me build the space ship!”

“I’m sure Mulder has other plans, Hannah. Anyway, it’s almost time for bed.” The girl huffs loudly. He considers telling Scully that he doesn’t have other plans; the case was just an excuse to come here. What Mulder didn’t consider, though, is that unlike him she might be busy on a Friday night. The thought of spending a weekend apart from her seemed unbearable; they spent so many weekends together, not necessarily by choice, while assigned to the x-files. Now he doesn’t remember not to be around her all the time. But she didn’t tell him about her brother visiting, or babysitting her niece. He wouldn’t have just shown up if she had (or he would have thought of a better reason). So he figures it’s partly her fault he’s here now.

“Mulder?” Scully’s voice is impatient as she points her finger towards the kitchen. He picks up his file and follows her. “So what did you want to talk about? Why didn’t you just call? Why couldn’t it have waited til Monday?”

“Uhm…” Mulder doesn’t have an answer for any of her questions. Seeing Hannah has thrown him off; seeing Scully with the girl who looks so much like her has made him forget everything. Completely out of patience, Scully tears the file out of Mulder’s hands.

“Mulder, you can’t be serious. This is not an x-file. It’s not even a case!” She closes the file forcefully and throws it on the table. “So why are you really here?”

“I- it is a case, Scully. These teenagers-“

“Mulder, no. You could have called me with this and it would have taken me two minutes to tell you that this is nothing. Not to mention that we’re off the x-files. Yet you decided to drive over here on a Friday night. Why?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your niece?” Scully’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“I don’t see how this is any of your business.

“You didn’t tell me your brother was in town.”

“Mulder, what I do on weekends is my business. This doesn’t concern you and if there’s no reason for you to be here…” She trails off suddenly, crossing her arms in front of her and just stares at him.

“But why didn’t you just tell me your brother was visiting? I wouldn’t have come here.” Of course it’s a lie. Knowing her brother was here, the one who doesn’t know him and maybe, just maybe, doesn’t hate him, might not have changed anything. He still would have missed her. He wants to tell her exactly that – that he misses her, that a weekend without her is insufferable – but he knows how she’ll react if he does; she’ll roll her eyes, she’ll say his name in that particular way and she’ll send him away. So he decides to stall and turn the tables around.

“Like I said, Mulder, this is not about you. This is my life, my family. It doesn’t concern you.” Her words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do. Yet, they tear right through him, gnaw strongly at him. He sighs deeply and watches her like she watches him. At least she hasn’t thrown him out yet.

“Mulder!” A voice chimes from the living room. “I need help on my space ship!”

“At least one Scully woman still likes me.” Mulder’s attempt at humor falls short when Scully’s face remains stoic.

“She doesn’t know you very well.” Scully replies and that one really hurts.

“Am I allowed to help her? Or do you want me to leave?” Her answer is clearly written on her face; she wants him to leave. Mulder knows they need to talk about this; whatever this is. Maybe part of him, at least unconsciously, wanted to come here to clear the air between them. Scully has been edgy for a while now, at least since their return from Antarctica. Their reassignment and Diana’s presence, their undisclosed past, haven’t helped matters much. Though Mulder isn’t sure either of these things is the reason for her distant behavior.

“Go ahead,” Scully makes a dismissive hand gesture, “You’ve got 20 minutes until bed time.” There’s a remark on his tongue, but this time he swallows it, nods, and joins little Hannah in the living room. The girl grins at him. Ten minutes ago she didn’t even know him and now she’s reaching out her hands, grabbing for him. If only he had that same effect on her aunt. Mulder sits down on the floor next to Hannah and carefully touches the still unfinished space ship.

“Something is missing.” She tells him, slightly stumbling on her ’s’-sounds. “I don’t know what.” Mulder pretends to examine the space ship closely, making the girl giggle. He takes a few of the bricks and puts them in her hand. Hannah watches him closely as he builds a small attachment on the roof of the rectangular shaped ship.

“What is it?” Hannah leans over, her long hair falling all around her face. Mulder reaches out and as the child turns to him, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“An entrance,” he explains, “You have to have someone fly the space ship, right?” Hannah nods happily. “See? That’s how your pilot can get in.”

“Or the alien.” Hannah reminds him.

“Or the alien.” Mulder agrees with a smile.

“Hannah,” Scully’s voice is gentle and as Mulder lifts his head, sees her soft expression, he can’t help but wonder how long she’s been standing there. “Come on, you’ve got to get ready for bed.”

“But-”

“The space ship will still be there tomorrow.” Hannah hesitates, her small hand still holding a few bricks.

“And Mulder? Will Mulder still be here tomorrow?”

“Come on now,” Scully urges her on and reaches out her hand. This time Hannah does as she’s told and follows along the hall, “You can say goodbye once you’re in your pajamas.”

Mulder gets up from the floor, his knees protesting quietly, and sits on the couch. They must have left the bathroom door open because he can hear them in there. Hannah is telling Scully all about space and the moon, aliens and monsters and Mulder has to grin.

“I like Mulder,” the girl says loudly; Mulder doubts that she’s aware he can hear them out here, “Why doesn’t uncle Bill like him?”

“They didn’t meet under the best circumstances. You’re not done brushing your teeth yet, Hannah.”

“I’ll tell uncle Bill how great Mulder is at building space ships. He must like him then! You like him, right?” Mulder strains his ears; he knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop and he knows that Scully most likely won’t tell her niece what an asshole he is. At least he hopes she won’t. There’s plenty of time for that in the future. Once he’s out of Scully’s life, just a bleak memory, and when Hannah asks about him as a teenager – if she remembers him at all – she can tell him then. How he let her down and how he lets everyone down he loves. As long as she doesn’t do it now when Hannah still likes him, when she thinks he’s good at playing Legos.

“Aunty Dana? You like him, don’t you?”

“Yes, honey. I do like Mulder. I like him a lot.” Mulder wonders how much of that is true when he hears tiny feet running down the hall. Hannah jumps onto the couch and right into his side.

“Hey, be careful.” He starts tickling her and she screams in delight.

“Not fair, Mulder!” He lets go of her then, but she remains cuddled to his side, leaning against him.

“Tell Mulder goodnight, Hannah. He needs to go home, too.” The girl turns to him with an earnest expression.

“Is it almost past your bedtime, too?” She asks him and he nods solemnly.

“I hate bed time.” Hannah lets him know in a loud whisper.

“Me too.” He admits, quickly glancing up at Scully. “But you should listen to your aunt Dana. Remember what I told you earlier?”

“That she’s always right.”

“Exactly. So you better do as she says and go to bed.”

“But…” Her eyes fill with tears, “Can Mulder come back tomorrow?”

“Hannah… Mulder might have plans tomorrow.” Scully sighs and Mulder turns to look at her. He went to Antarctica for her; if she thinks he’s backing down when it comes to babysitting her adorable niece, they really need to have a talk.

“I’m still here tomorrow,” Hannah tells him excitedly, “Please don’t have plans tomorrow.”

“You know what,” Mulder leans closer to the little girl, “I promise I’ll talk to your aunt Dana about this if you go to bed now.” Hannah thinks it over for a moment, then nods, and wanders off. Scully stares after her, amazement apparent on her face. Mulder can’t help his smug grin.

“Well, my work here is done,” he says, getting up from the couch, “I better leave. You can tell Hannah whatever you like. Tell her…,” how much I hate this, he thinks, “tell her I do have plans. I’m sure you’ll come up with something plausible. I’ll see you on Monday.”

He’s halfway to the door when Scully stops him. “Mulder, wait.” He stops, but doesn’t turn around just yet.

“Do you want to spend the day with us tomorrow? Maybe not the whole day. I mean… however long you want. If you want.”

“What about you?” He’s facing her now and he wishes he could tell her how much he wants this. To spend the day with her and her adorable nice. To just be around her, talk to her, without fighting, without second-guessing each other. They don’t need the x-files. At least not for this. He wants to be with her any way he is allowed, any chance he gets.

“What about me? I’ll be there too.”

“No, I mean… do you want me to spend the day with you and Hannah?” His eyes plead with hers to just say yes. This is his olive branch until he figures out to tell her all the things he wants to say to her; until he figures out how to right whatever went wrong between them these last couple of months. Scully is taking her time answering and finally she sighs; a clear sign that she’s come to a decision.

“I’d really like it if you’d spend the day with us, Mulder. Hannah adores you.”

“And you like me.” If only he knew how to keep his mouth shut sometimes. He smiles sheepishly, basically admitting that he’s eavesdropped earlier. Scully’s earlier discontentment with him seems to have evaporated, though, and he receives a warm smile.

“And I like you. How about you come over for breakfast? Then we’ll figure out what to do.”

“I can’t wait, Scully.”

And that’s the truth.

When your newspaper is so biased against healthcare staff, that a story about hospital food is framed not as a call to improve provisions for patient meals, but to imply doctors and nurses are eating too well.

I’ll tell you that our undeservedly enviable gourmet meals, wolfed down hours late (if at all) whilst filling in paperwork, usually consist of:

A) At best, passable canteen food you got tired of a week after starting at this hospital.

B) Whatever dry sandwiches the ‘Friends’ shop’ is selling because nothing else is open this time of night.

C) Whatever combination of fridge remnants you managed to scrape into a tupperware container, whilst you eye your colleague’s sloppy canteen food.

D) The dry remnants of the Doctors ’ Mess buscuit tin or the ward cake box washed down with weak tea or the worst coffee you’ve had in your life, with minimal milk because the bottle ran out and there won’t be another til Monday.

Doctors and nurses don’t eat lavishly at work, nor are they responsible for what patients eat. They don’t control the funding for that; the ultimate responsibility lies with the government to ensure the financial needs of the NHS are met.

Framing it as if workers at the frontline are responsible shows just where this paper’s loyalites lie.

(Screenshot from the Junior Doctor Contract Forum, Hat tip to Peter Stefanovic for pointing out the silliness of the headline).

hey y'all
I’ve been gone for a few days again… and I won’t be able to go online for maybe a little more time. I’ve been staying in the hospital and I might stay here til Monday, that is if I’ll be ok on Monday. its fine, it might just be a random illness. its like motion sickness except I’m just sitting here doing nothing. makes no sense. and I lost my tablet last week… not sure how I’m gonna fix that. don’t know if I’ll get a new one soon.

these stuff’s been happening, but I’ll be fine ye ;;

see you guys in a bit~

I feel like I haven't seen anyone talk about That Scene™

Maybe it’s just because I was late to the party and wasn’t able to see Spider-Man til the Monday after it came out so I missed all the big hubbub but I think I might’ve seen one person besides myself even mention Tom Holland’s acting ability.
Like, he was a playing a funny, quirky, superhero character so no one really thought anything of him, and in the grand scheme of acting that’s not too difficult so I never felt I got the full scope of his acting ability.
And then the building fell on him.
The fucking building fell on him.
When he was trying to get up, the raw emotion and fear that he was expressing I just…it was too amazing.
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a million more times. Tom Holland deserves an oscar just for his performance in that scene

The rest of the movie was just a formality. That scene is what sealed the deal and any doubts I had ever had about his ability to act