whether or not she actually did it is entirely up to you~

iwasapruneratfaverolles  asked:

PLEASE TELL THE CHILDREN THE STORY OF MS. STUBELS

Grace fuck, why would you invoke her name like that???

Okay, fine, gather round children, buckle up because we’re going on a bumpy ride back to everyone’s collective least favorite place: 7th grade.

Some background: I went to a very small Catholic school. One class per grade (we were the largest with 19 kids), everyone knew each other whether they wanted to or not. Despite basically every teacher and faculty members insistence that we were The Best And Most Special Class In The School and that everyone loved having us, the longstanding 7th grade teacher Mrs. O’Hara decided to retire in the summer of 2008, meaning the school had to find us a new teacher for the upcoming year. This would be like, the first new teacher in the school in a while, and as she was getting the ‘best class’, it was viewed as a Big Deal. Somewhere in like July or August we got a letter announcing Mrs. Stubel, and it came with a list of books to pick for the summer reading, and that was basically all the information we had.

So…the first day of class. She seems nice enough. Very…ditsy, I guess? It was very easy for her to get herself off topic while talking. She constantly paced around the room, never staying in one spot for longer than a second, complaining she has restless leg syndrome. Which like, I’m sure she did, but she was in the middle of introducing herself and then went on a 20 minute tangent about restless leg syndrome without anyone prompting her. It was almost like you could see her scattered thoughts flying around her head.

So anyone, she eventually gives somewhat of an introduction- she had only taught in public schools before, and kept worrying she ‘didn’t know’ how to teach in a Catholic school despite the entire class insisting literally nothing was different, you just teach the curriculum, twice a week we have religion class with Sister Mary King, that’s literally it (she still talked over us in worry), she told us about her kids, she told us about her obsession with Emily Dickinson, stuff like that.

And then she hands us this worksheet.

She’s like, “Oh, these are just some basic questions for you to answer! Just so I can get to know you guys better!” like in lieu of an icebreaker game, which is fine, but…the questions. The questions were all “What is your most haunting fear?”, “What is your deepest regret?”, “Have you ever experienced the pain of loss?”, “What was your worst injury?”, “What was your worst nightmare?”, all questions like that, and then on the back she wanted us to draw a gravestone and write out what we wanted our epitaph to be.

We were twelve year olds, mind you.

Oh my God and one girl missed the first day because of her grandmother’s funeral, so when she came the next day and saw what the teacher was insisting she do for homework, she almost had a panic attack? And the lady still made her do it? Literally who wants to think about death anymore at a time like that omfg.

Okay, so then we get to the summer reading book reports, right? Now, she had given a list of maybe, 20 books that you could pick from, read it, and then present an oral report on it. You had to have notecards and you had to be able to answer questions from the class at the end. All in all, I’ve had worse projects.

So, on this list, she apparently put Madeleine L’Engle’s entire book series on the list…only she did not make it known that this was a series and not multiple stand alone books, so when reports started up it caused mass-panic of kids trying to put together plot points and make connections on what the hell they had read.

I was the only kid in the class who had chosen to read “A Wrinkle In Time”, and that has since lead to a series of events that…really actually scares me, I’m still incredibly freaked out, I’m not going to get into it right now because it’ll take away from the current story, but just know that I’m not above wondering if it only happened because I read the book for Stubel.

Anyway, so like, I got through the report okay. The class asking questions about it was fine, but the teacher kept asking questions that didn’t make sense, like, at all. My friend Angie has always had super neat handwriting and Mrs. Stubel got like, obsessed with her notecards and asked if she could borrow them for something. When we got our grades back a few weeks later, Angie had points taken off for not having notecards.

And then her teaching just…didn’t happen. She’d never stay on a topic, she’d always get herself distracted! We were not learning anything. And like, this wasn’t a class of advanced smart kids that loved to learn. By all accounts we should’ve been thrilled. But it got out of hand. It got to points where we had to start teaching lessons to ourselves, asking teacher from other grades for help, always coming home in tears, complaining constantly to our parents and the principal because this woman wasn’t teaching us anything. There were two kids who asked her multiple times for extra help, and she told them each time to ‘talk to me after school’, but then she’d leave immediately after school so they wouldn’t be able to talk to her. They finally brought up the issue in the middle of class and she had a breakdown, yelling about how nobody ever thinks that maybe the teacher has a lot of work to do, and maybe she’s entitled to taking off early, but when we tried to argue she shouldn’t schedule meetings and then break them off in the name of relaxation, she stormed out of the room and tried to get the principal to give us detention. (Which, like, our school didn’t even do, and she was the only one in the wrong during this situation) We are still in September at this point, and already at least ten kids have parents considering transferring them to another school. (And remember, there was only 19 of us, and most of the class had been together since preschool, so that was a big deal).

Then, she starts coming in with all the weird bruises. All the Moms™ immediately started gossiping that her husband had to be beating her, and that’s why she was so screwy in the head. But the way she talked about her husband made it seem like he *might* be dead, and we actually did witness her fall and smack her head into a doorknob once, so no one really knew what to believe. (Also, I’m not trying to imply that abuse would make someone crazy or ‘damaged’ or anything, this is just what was being said. I think they were trying to turn her into a more sympathetic character, because if you feel sorry for her you don’t have to hate her for frustrating your kids so much, and Hate Is A Bad Emotion.)

Also…this woman and Emily Dickinson.

She talked about Emily Dickinson every chance she could get. None of us knew who Emily Dickinson really was before she got there and you could see in her mind it was a capitol offense. She found out the curriculum didn’t have room to cover her (because like, we had a text book), and was way too upset about it. She started reading her poems whenever she found the time (usually somewhere in history class), and always gave us very detailed accounts about her dressing up as Emily and reading her poetry at the library.

Now, two things to note here:

  1. The library did not hire her to do this. She would literally just get in the mood, put on an Emily Dickinson costume that she made by herself, drive to different libraries, and just read poetry out loud to everyone there until someone eventually asked her to leave.
  2. The way she described these events…her tone, the look on her face, her posture…you could just tell that she was getting some sort of sexual gratification out of this? Like dressing up as Emily Dickinson in public and reading her sad poems is really what got this lady’s jollies rocking? Got her all hot and bothered? Which is…a lot, but why would you tell a bunch of seventh graders about it holy shit. What about that sounds like a good idea! What about that turns you back on!

So anyway, we learned a lot about Emily Dickinson against our will.

One of the Davids™ was reading a book for pleasure- which shouldn’t have been a shocker, a lot of kids always had books on them, but Stubel got really interested and asked if she could borrow it from him. He was like ‘sure, after I finish it?’ but she took it that day. He asked her for it back for like five weeks straight.

And…the strudels.

Okay, so the school was trying some dorky thing to promote ~togetherness~ or some virtue or something, I don’t remember the specifics of why, but each class had to make a huge themed poster and hang it on the wall outside the classroom. Which was like, whatever, not the most thrilling project but at least it allowed us to be productive vs just sitting there as the teacher runs about the room rambling about her family vacation from four years ago. Mrs. Stubel decided we needed a quirky nickname and after like three days of deliberation we were christened “Stubel’s Special Strudels”!

(points for alliteration or whatever, but no one actually voted for that and what exactly do strudels have to do with Catholicism? It became a big running joke amongst the kids)

Also, in case you were wondering, she didn’t explain the assignment correctly to us- so every other class had like these beautiful, artistic, well-themed and put together posters, while ours was just…literally a bunch of shit thrown together on paper. Nothing fit with each other, it was literally embarrassing to look at.

But then…she wouldn’t drop the strudel thing. Like she kept bringing it up. She got really into strudels and would just tell us random shit about them. Finally, someone jokes that we should get strudels one day for a party (like instead of a pizza party), and she’s Freaking Out and On Board. She really wants to buy us strudels and have a breakfast party now. She talked about it for like two days straight.

So like… you know in school when you would have a pizza party, usually the teacher would buy it? That’s how they always happened in my experience (not counting the last day of 10th grade when some kid had pizza delivered to the school for lunch but it didn’t get there until math class lol). But especially in grade school? Like if it wasn’t a PTA made party that’s super organized, the school would buy the food, right? Right?

Yeah, so she was like, if this is happening you guys need to give me the money. Just give me the money and then I’ll pick them up on my way to work!! And after some arguing some kids are on board. Strudels should only cost a couple dollars right?

And she’s like, oh no, I’m gonna get them from this high end bakery near my house so it’ll be special, but they’re not cheap and it’ll be a big order! I’m gonna need like fifteen dollars from each of you!

And at this point I’m just like…lady. Come on. 

But she keeps insisting. She’s not gonna go until every student in class pays up.

And I’m like…I’m poor. I don’t even like strudel.  And some of the less-naïve kids are siding with me.

And then she pulls that “you guys are just spoiling all the fun for your classmates” shit, like the naïve kids who already paid up, so it gets to the point where we just gotta cave and give her the money.

(I ended up stealing it out of my Crazy Bitch Aunt’s wallet so it’s whatever, I guess.)

And then of course, shockingly enough, every morning she was met with “where are the strudels?” and every morning she went wide eyed, slapped her forehead and yelled in embarrassed horror “I totally forgot! Tomorrow, guys, I promise!”

Honestly, with how scatterbrained and confused she always was…like to this day I can’t tell you with 100% certainty whether she hustled us or was just actually forgetting about the damn pastries, I choose to lean towards the hustled us side because that’s just the type of people I’m used to, but if I found out it was innocent forgetfulness I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.

She couldn’t handle more than one person talking at a time. Like, we’d have break periods, or group work, or something and all the talking made her go wide-eyed and batty. She’d look overworked and anxious and would be darting around the room trying to do work or something but she couldn’t focus and she’d yell at anyone who tried to talk to her directly. I remember one time she was using this boys desk for something so he asked “where am I supposed to sit?” and she snapped “Sit on the ceiling for all I care!”. And this kid was the Class Clown™ , so he immediately grabbed a chair in one hand and started climbing the bookcase to try and reach the ceiling. She’s standing right next to this and doesn’t even notice. He got all four chair legs planted on the ceiling and was trying to somehow maneuver his way into the chair (I really don’t know what the plan was exactly- he was really tall and it was a small building, so I think he probably had the idea that if he can get his body upside down and in the chair, and stretch out his arms like a hand-stand to hold onto bookcase, he could arguably sit on the ceiling.) but he slipped. Crashed into my desk and the two desks next to me, knocked over the book case, broke the chair in half and hit the desks with enough force to knock them down lower. It was hilarious. Everyone was loosing their shit cracking up (he was fine) and it still took Stubel like five minutes to notice his lying out across the desks right in front of her eyes. She was pissed but how did she miss any of it in the first place? She was barely being helpful in whatever it was she was trying to do.

This was the year the Phillies were going to the World Series, and all the grades were having a Phillies Rally in the cafeteria so a news crew was coming to the school and each class was supposed to come up with fun little cheers for them to broadcast. Multiple cheer ideas were presented to her and she vetoed all of them, someone even suggested just singing the damn eagles theme song with replaced words and calling it a day but she vetoed that too, she was very adamant that she could come up with a cheer all by herself and it’ll be the best one (whoever had the best cheer was winning like an ice cream day or something idk). And then like…literally five minutes before the rally she just hands us signs with the letters and was like ‘we’re just gonna spell out Phillies it will be cute won’t it my strudels???’. We were the weakest class there, predictably. I think we lost to the kindergarteners. There might still be a video online of me yelling “ i “ passionately at the top of my lungs. It was online bc our cheer was so bland the news crew cut it out of the broadcast.

I literally can’t say enough about how she never taught us anything. She’d be going on some tangent about how she doesn’t understand the science behind skiing, and I’d be like “Okay yes but please can you just tell me where Romania is on a map???” And she’d start fights whenever someone actually wanted to learn. It was so easy to get her angry but so hard for her to stay on topic. Kids started teaching the class themselves! Like seriously, she’d be rambling and one of us would just go up to the podium, open the teacher’s guide textbook and just start reading out loud and talking over her. By the time she noticed we’d be halfway through a lesson. And we understood it better than when she tried! You know something’s wrong when pre-teens are more qualified for a job than an adult who supposedly went to school for this.

We were in the church having run-throughs for our upcoming Confirmation and she almost set the church on fire…fifteen different times. In less than half an hour. How hard is it to hold a candle?

Okay, and here’s when stuff starts kicking up. It was October 28th, a Tuesday, and it was our last day of school that week because they were having parent-teacher conferences the rest of the week. So we were just hanging out, watching movies in class and reading (lord knows we weren’t learning), and Stubel calls me over to her desk.

So like, she had given everyone little bags with candy for Halloween, but I get up there and she hands me an extra one. And she’s like “Molly I know your birthday is tomorrow and I bought you a present but I left it on my coffee table this morning by accident! So just have the candy for now!”

And I’m like….”Ma’am I’m like, the sixth birthday this year. You didn’t give anyone else presents?”

And she goes “Oh, I know but this is a special secret surprise. I just know you’re gonna love it! Do you wanna stop by my house later this week to pick it up or should I just give it to you Monday after school?”

And like…In writing this sounds like a non-threatening exchange, and like, it was, but I felt so uncomfortable holy shit. I’m looking over my shoulder and shooting my friends SOS signals. Something about this felt so weird in my gut omfg. I told her thanks and I’d just see her Monday.

So we flash forward to Wednesday- my 13th birthday, the day the Phillies won the world series, and also the day my mother innocently strolled into the school for her meeting only to be met with screaming, the sound of heavy destruction, and the school secretary Mrs. Daily running at her in a panic, waving her arms and yelling “YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED GET IN MY OFFICE NOW!”

So my poor mother, who thought she could handle this whole meeting in a few minutes and barely be an hour late for work, is now barricaded in the front office with the school secretary, as the noises from down the hall get louder and louder. The woman explains that they had gotten so many complaints about Mrs. Stubel that this morning, when she got to the school, the principal Sister Patricia called her in and said “Listen, we need you to be professional and still have the parent conferences, but we have to let you go. We just don’t think you fit in well here, and the kids need to come first and feel comfortable in their school.” and like, I’m paraphrasing because I wasn’t there, but we all know she was very polite and professional about it.

Mrs. Stubel, however…was not.

She flipped her chair and stormed out of the office, and locks herself in the seventh grade classroom. She started wrecking the shit out of that place, screaming obscenities and the top of her lungs, they had to call the cops on her! She was locked in there for almost an hour! And let me just give you a nice little list of everything she did in that classroom:

  • Smashed three windows.
  • Threw everything off her desk and carved swear words all over it.
  • Got cleaning fluid that she knew would damage the chalk boards, smeared it all over.
  • Cracked the chalk boards by repeatedly smashing chairs against them.
  • Wrote swear words all over the walls and on desks
  • Went into students desks, ripped up their books.
  • Stole my glasses. (which were in my desk bc I only used them in class at the time)
  • Threw some desks around.
  • Carved swear words into the boards. (there was so much carving I’m assuming she just had a knife on her person, which has to lead to the question, did she have a knife on her while she was in class with us?)
  • Physically ripped the hooks to hang backpacks on out of the wall.
  • Knocked the closet door off it’s hinges.
  • Ripped up all the books in the bookcases and threw their pages all around the room.
  • Wrote lewd phrases inside student’s desks.
  • Broke multiple chairs.
  • Used her podium as a battering ram against the wall that’s in front of where the backpacks go. (the wall won but Damage Was Inflicted)
  • Set a fire in the trash can.
  • When the principal and other teachers started trying to get in, she tossed her rolling chair at the door to scare them off.
  • She was screaming curse words at the top of her lungs the entire time, and cursing the school and the kids and the principal and the church in general, and the school building was small, so all the parents and the smaller children that had to come to the meetings (who were locked in their respective classrooms in fear) heard everything.
  • So much more? But it’s 4:30 in this morning and this list is already long.

So my mom is in the front office and deadass the

entire police force

shows up, running down the hallway to the classroom yelling at her to stop, and it takes a while for them to get her out holy shit. They knocked down the door and she tried to escape out of one of the broken windows! But they got her and dragged her out.

So of course, in such a small school with very involved parents this shit spread like wildfire. The entire town knew within the day. The poor principal called the newly retired old-seventh grade teacher and was like “So we…need some help” and the lady was like “I already heard I’ll be there Monday” omfg. I remember I got a text from one of my classmates saying “if your birthday wish was for us to be set free from the beast I love you” omfg.

So, we eventually go back to school on Monday and everyone’s buzzing. The principal has us go to the cafeteria and she ‘delicately’ explains the situation, and that the old teacher is coming out of retirement for us, the school has a restraining order against Mrs. Stubel now and that she’s sorry we had to deal with this mess. Our classroom had to go under some heavy reconstruction before we could be let back in there, so for like two weeks we alternated between the cafeteria and the preschooler’s classroom, we had no books or anything, just provided loose-leaf paper and pens. It was like, surreal, but everyone was just so happy to be rid of her and to be in the presence of a competent teacher omfg. We eventually were able to get back into our usual classroom.

  1. It took a while for things to go completely back to normal, though. After the big spectacle she made, for weeks after she was fired we were all very scared of the possibility of Mrs. Stubel returning to the school with a gun in hand. It was always a topic we whispered about at lunch with wide eyes and shivers. Like…genuine nightmare scenario.
  2. About two weeks after she was fired, a boy in the back of the classroom gasped loudly during SSR, and when we all looked at him, he whispered in anger “She never gave us our freakin’ strudels!”
  3. About three months after she was fired, we were lined up at the door to go to Library when a few of us looked through the windows and saw something darting through the trees. It was fast and we couldn’t make anything out, so we let it drop. When the class and teacher returned half and hour later, the book she had borrowed months before from one of the boys was sitting on his desk. It was just laying there, the room was silent, nothing had been disturbed…but I have never seen a book look so threatening. People were freaking out. Someone kept insisting that she turned the book into a bomb. No one figure out how she got in the school, and no one could figure out how she got it on the right desk, as we had switched the seating arrangement since she had last been there.  
  4. A full six months after she had left, it was nearing the end of the school year and our class was dicking around during our last computer class. Someone found a website (that we weren’t allowed to be on) that pulls up any police records attached to whoever’s name you enter, so someone decided to search Mrs. Stubel as a joke. We ended up finding out she had like six DUI’s.

Aaaaand that’s the story of the horrendous teacher I had for two months in 7th grade. One of my favorite party stories but tbh she still haunts me™ .

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

Marco is a Trans Girl - The Megapost 2.0

So you’ve likely seen my big post on the theory that Marco Diaz from Star vs The Forces of Evil is a Trans Girl. It was made back in July of 2016 when Season 2 was just starting, and since then a lot of things have changed and we now know a lot more about what’s going on behind the scenes.

This post is meant to be an updated explanation of Trans Girl Marco theory, but now more in line with how things are actually happening. The gist of it being that Marco Diaz is coded as a closeted transgender girl.  Expect less theorizing and more meta talk. I’ll be going over all the clues that indicate Marco is trans, as well as how the starcrew came to the desicion as Marco developed as a character.

I can’t give enough thanks to the members of the crew such as @arythusa and @hug-bees​, whom have both done as much as they possibly can to communicate with the show’s growing LGBT fanbase, and given us so much insight into what’s going on

Full post below the cut.

Keep reading

What Zarkon Remembers

Season 3 ends with this bombshell of a reveal, not only of the true nature of Haggar and Zarkon’s relationship, but that Haggar despite her loyalty to him for all those years had forgotten. 

However, there are quite a few hints throughout the series that Zarkon never did. Mind you all of these are subtext, but Voltron uses quite a bit of subtext, it was entirely the basis for the hints about their relationship in the first two seasons before the season three reveal. Haggar’s feelings were never directly stated, but rather contained in concerned glances [x].

Anyway in the entirety of Season 1 and Season 2 even though Zarkon has no problem at all crushing all of those who disagree with them, even his own generals who have been serving him for life and perhaps thousands of battles (as Lotor suggests this is his primary strategy).

Even in the past pre-quintessence corruption, Zarkon shows a strict adherence to rank and social order. 

We see Zarkon however, side again and again with Haggar over that of his own generals. If he didn’t remember her true identity, than she should have been nothing more than a useful witch he woke up next to. Not somebody who should hold his regard over his own galran generals.

This is a pattern noticed and commented on by his own generals time and time again.

The way the two are drawn too, Haggar is never below him or bowing to him, she’s always on his side like an equal would be. She is his wife after all whether she remembers or not that would make her rank officially queen. 

When Haggar begins to disagree with Zarkon for fear of his own safety in season two, despite shouting a sharp “What?” at her he never actually tells her that she’s out of line. It’s merely something that Haggar does on her own because remember she does not herself remember her rank or place of importance to him.

When she raises direct disagreement with him, and even questions his judgement Zarkon simply walks away. No other general is allowed to disagree with Zarkon, they’d quickly become dead or Haggar’s experiments. Yet Haggar is the only one allowed this privilege. 

At the beginning of season three episode seven, when Haggar reads Zarkon’s comatose mind we see flashes of the former Honerva, which suggests of course that the memories are there and perhaps even at the front of his mind.

At the end of the episode too, when we see Zarkon revive his first action is not to stomp outside and clarify his own whereabouts, but in fact look to the side to find Honerva and confirm if she’s okay and his plan to revive her was successful. The camera follows his gaze, if he truly didn’t remember I doubt they would go to the trouble of animating the scene in this particular way. 

So there in case you didn’t think episode 7 was tragic enough, there’s a strong hint that Zarkon did remember all of this time. Which meant he went through all of this trouble of betraying voltron, destroying his planet, and losing his place among the paladins in order to revive Honerva from her sickness only for her to forget about him, and stay by his side a shell of her former self without remembering for 10,000 years. 

post-emoji movie Trauma

WARNING: the following text contains spoilers and can be considered disturbing to some readers. especially my brain, because it’s leaking out my ears after typing this.

This is the first movie ever I’ve gone to see on opening night. And let me just say that, for the record, I’m glad I went to watch with friends. Without them, I would have most likely calmly exited the room, climbed up to the roof, and dived straight off.

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[!] Please Read.

To say that we wish there was another much nicer way that we could do this is an understatement. Though a group of writers involved in this incident have come to the agreement that this must be done not only for the sake of the people who are a part of these networks, but also to let the general public, their and our readers, know of this situation and who the people that they are idolising really are.

So, without further ado, welcome to the truth about the Penetration Station:

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During his move to Washington, DC, Stiles made a number of realizations about life, the most prominent of which was that it was amazing what kind of hobbies a guy could pick up when his days weren’t packed full of running for his life from various supernatural horrors. Like trivia nights, for example. Stiles had a regular team and the entire bar groaned when they walked in because they knew they were about to get creamed.

Or the tabletop gaming club he joined, where everyone was just as competitive as he was, and punches had been thrown on more than one occasion.

Or like, Stiles jogged now.

Through the National Mall.

Like Captain America or some shit.

And with these hobbies came a sort of routine, and though most were on hold during the summer when his trivia team and gaming rivals were back home, the running stuck. It was calming and got his mind off things, gave him a chance to think about any papers he had to write, or de-stress about his FBI internship when it got a little hectic.

It was a good routine.

So every Saturday morning, Stiles got up a little earlier so he could get in his longer route, and left his dorm for his jog through the National Mall. On Saturdays, he took the path that went through the war memorials, down into West Potomac Park, and over to the Jefferson Memorial. It was his favorite place to take a breather because that early in the morning, there were rarely any tourists, and other joggers left him alone. It was nice and private, with a great view of the city across the water.

Stiles leaned back against the front steps and glanced around him casually, making sure there was no one too close before pulling out his little burner flip phone.

He had an old school drug dealer flip phone. His dad would be so proud.

There was only one number the phone ever called, so there was no need to save it under a name.

He waited for a few minutes, biding his time until the clock hit 7:15am, and then he called that number.

On the third ring, Derek picked up.

“Morning, sunshine!” Stiles greeted, already wide awake from his jog. Derek grunted back. He must’ve had a late night at the bar. “Any leads?”

Derek yawned loudly. “Still no werewolves with triskele tattoos, still wanted for murder.”

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The One That Got Away

by reddit user bookshelfghost

Lily Harrison and I met at a graduation party when we were eighteen. As soon as I walked into the house, her bubbling laughter caught my attention. I couldn’t help but grin because it was so contagious, and she’d noticed. Already a couple drinks in, she pointed right at me and shouted, “Hey. You’re cute. Come be my partner.” 

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Games and Piercings (Voltron Langst One-Shot)

Based on the prompt by @ohwhataprettypinkhat ! Please do enjoy!

           Lance had a game as a child, being the middle child. He really didn’t get too much attention from anyone except for the stray little one or two. Or when something drastic happened to him, like a broken limb or something. Which is why he created the game. Whenever he would talk, and he would notice someone not listening. He’d say something crazy. He’d remembered one time specifically. He was maybe eight at the time. With a gap-toothed grin and a mint green band-aid on his cheek as he babbled to his mother. Wild hand gestures and crazy exaggerations as she chopped vegetables at the stove. He remembered her nodding along, humming ‘yes’s and ‘okay dear’s every so often as he paused.

           “Hey Mama, I’m going to go off to war and break my arm, okay? A hum.

           “Okay mijo, go have fun.” Lance frowned before he stumbled off. Later that day he did actually break his arm. His friend’s mom had to call the ambulance and Lance’s mother hadn’t even know he was at the hospital when his friend’s mother drove him home and talked to Lance’s mother herself. Lance had smiled as he was smothered with attention and love from Garcia’s mother. But, it wasn’t his mother’s attention. It wasn’t the attention he wanted.

           They’d never notice.

           Even when he went off to Garrison, the game continued. Telling instructors he was going to go clubbing. Or that he was off to become a rebel fighter. Giving loud, exuberant stories about sailing the seas. Hell. He told his best friend Hunk he was going to go throw himself off the Garrison room. All he got was a absent minded smile and a ‘okay, see you at curfew.’ Lance wasn’t even sure Hunk had heard the leaving part.

           Then he was a paladin. One of five defender of the universe, fighting an intergalactic war. He was the first one chosen in over ten thousand years. And still, when he’d make jokes, or give his serious opinions. No one heard him. After so many years of the same game, he’d finally gotten bored. So, Lance did the only logical thing.

           Change up the rules.

           Allura was one of the few who noticed him, so she helped him out with his little game. Smiled when he told her the rules. How he’d say crazy things to see if someone was listening. Except for now, just like that one time when he was eight. He’d actually do them. And see how long it took for them to notice the changes.

           First was with Pidge, he’d sat in a room with her for three hours. Talking loudly and in great detail about the new blue highlights he was going to get in his hair when they stopped off in the next planet. How they’d be blue and teal and he was going to look like a god damn gorgeous fucking mermaid. Pidge only ignored him, only noticing and greeting him with a ‘huh?’ after three hours of Lance talking. The reason she noticed him was because Allura had entered the room and called his name.

           He’d gotten his hair dyed on that planet, just as he said he would. And no one noticed.

           The next one was his first ear piercings, he had been sparring with Keith, spouting nonsense as they fought in hand to hand combat. Lance was losing pretty much the entire time. But Lance knew that wasn’t anything new. Keith barely could tell the difference from fighting a training bot from fighting Lance. He got his piercing the very next day. Allura had done them herself. After one of their self-care and venting sessions.

           And it just spiraled from there. Hunk was cooking one day as Lance was drawing and talking about a tattoo of the ocean themed Lion he was going to get to cover most of his upper left arm. Shiro was his verbal bouncy wall for both his right eyebrow piercings. Pidge, that was his tongue piercing. Keith caused his lip piercings, both of them. Hunk had driven him for the belly button piercing. Shiro had gotten him the star tattoos on the corner of his right eye. It was fun yeah, Lance loved the little changes in himself. Each one gave him confidence in his appearance, but they also hurt him.

           It was like a reminder. Each thing he got was a time he was ignored. Rejected and alone. There were like constant reminders of his failings to get the attention he craved. Even Allura was getting agitated. Assuring him that she always noticed when he added the more noticeable things, and being surprised and often delighted and intrigued to see the more obscure and hidden changes. Lance always smiled when she fiddled with his new piercings, buying him new shiny ones that she matched with her own ear piercings, when she admired the progress he made in training, or when she traced his new tattoos with delicate nails. In return he always helped to braid her hair, painted her nails. Hell, he’d learned how to speak Altean for her. She was like the doting big sister he’d always wanted. He’d always craved to have.

           Most of the time, it was able to shove away all of the bad thoughts. Enough to stave off the personal demons inside of him. Clawing at him and constantly nagging at him. Reminding him that he was just a speck in the universe. That he could die one day, and there would be not a single person to mourn his death or go to his funeral.

           Those thoughts hurt. Until eventually, they didn’t. Soon the buzzing thoughts became normal in the back of his mind. Fading to silence as his excitement and live retreated in the castle. Being reserved for celebrations on saved planets, or for the Alteans that paid him attention and treated him like the family he saw them as. The paladins only seeing the bored, indifferent side that Lance adopted to deal with the people who no longer seemed to even care what he did.

           At least, he thought they didn’t, but by the time they did notice he didn’t care whether they did or not.

           It was a planet with a higher rate of gravity and magnetic activity. Gahtic’al or something? It wasn’t in a tongue that Allura talked about very often, but Lance was sure he’d get it by the time he meant the natives. The only thing he recognized as noteworthy was as Pidge announced they’d have to get rid of any metal they carried on them. Lance’s eyebrow raised up. His tongue running over and rubbing against the metal in his mouth. He almost felt anxious. It’d been a while since his skin had been bare of piercings. But, Lance knew he’d have to take them out as he watched even Keith give up his knifes. Lance sighed as he stepped up.

           His hands were already reaching to his ears to take off his piercings in his ears when he felt eyes on him. Shiro was gapping at him as he pulled more and more metal off of his face. Then incredulous as Lance even pulled up his shirt to get off his belly button piercing. Shiro studied Lance up and down. There was three holes in each of Lance’s ears, one industrial bar, and two piercing holes in his right eyebrow. Snake bites, a belly button piercing. Were those tattoos on his skin too?! Shiro gaped. He. When? Lance. Who cared more about his skin and hair than he cared about his health, had piercings and tattoos? And dye in his hair?! Shiro looked around, seeing more dazed and staring paladins. Guessing he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t noticed. Maybe it had happened recently? Shiro looked back to Lance, who looked calm and relaxed. Shiro was in awe.

           The boy looked so different. His body was stronger than Shiro remembered it to be, it was still lean. But with obvious strength, power, and muscle tone that didn’t compromise the litheness of his figure. His hair was brown with shimmering hues of blue and teal that framed his tan and tattooed skin perfectly. His face was set in a neutral expression. Not unfriendly, more of a calm blankness that looked like it could change into the most heart warming smile, or the scariest glare in the world. With a sharp jawline and the soft glowing blue lights of the ship, Lance looked striking, almost ethereal. With sharp royal blue eyes that were trained on a smiling Allura. What the princess did next surprised Shiro.

           “Lance, your tongue piercing too?” Lance seemed to gauge her words for a moment before he got them. Immediately sticking out that long tongue, revealing a thick black metal piercing straight through Lance’s tongue. Causing Shiro to catch a noticeable shudder run through Keith. Almost making him smirk. Keith always had a thing for the blue paladin. And a thing for piercings. Keith had to be in heaven. But, how long had Lance had these piercings? Was Shiro so caught up in training and leading that he hadn’t notice so many drastic changes in one of his paladins? Lance grinned at Allura.

           “Thanks princess.” Pidge was the first one to talk, pointing accusingly at Lance.

           “What?! When did this happen?!” Lance quirked an eyebrow at Pidge, the expression on his face was friendly, but didn’t hold that same joking light it once did. Now it just seemed like a cool neutrality, as if he’d just noticed Pidge’s shock.

           “What? The tongue piercing? I got that…” Lance frowned and looked to Allura, [When did I get the tongue piercing again?] Shiro gaped as fluid Altean language left Lance’s lips, as if he’d spoken the language his whole life. The other paladins’ reactions were much the same as Allura answered back.

           [I’d say, eight months ago? Your newest thing was the industrial bar, which was about six months ago, and the tongue piercing was about two months before that. Didn’t you get it at that at the market place on Shero’sic?] Lance nodded.

           “Yup. I remember now. It was eight months ago. Remember? Because I got it shortly after my face tattoos.” Allura nodded.

           “Mmm, I still like your arm tattoo. But the stars are quite quaint.” Lance’s fingers brushed the two small stars just at the outer corner of his right eye. Bringing Shiro’s attention to the little stars that almost looked like beauty marks next to Lance’s almost glowingly blue eyes. Lance placed the peicings into a small bag for safe keeping and handed them to Allura to put with their other metal objects while they landed on the planet. Lance looked back at them expectantly.

           “Well? Don’t we have a job to do?” And Lance walked away from them with Allura, leaving four shocked and confused paladins in his wake. Just what happened to their blue paladin? When had his body changed so much. So drastically in front of them without notice? When had he matured into such a strong young man? Calm and patient. The gleam and innocence of a child no longer in his eyes.

           What had they done to him?

You wanted Part 2? You get Part 2

PART 2

anonymous asked:

so, um. if you have any particular feelings about labyrinth--specifically Sarah--uh, go wild.

WILD PEACHES  [AO3]

.

The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time. 

It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.

The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”

Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—

(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)

Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.

.

It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)

Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”

Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.

She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid. 

It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips. 

She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.

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Humans are weird

Ok, getting on the humans are weird bandwagon….

It surprises me that we haven’t talked about the most obvious thing: humans imagine things. Humans outright make shit up. (Like these posts?) Human stories often aren’t retellings of things that actually happened. Art often isn’t a depiction of true events. Humans - for want of a better word - humans sublimate. They transform their experiences into outlandish non-reality for each others’ amusement.

It takes forever for first contact to start because the aliens planning it keep getting confused by first radio, then television. Some of these depictions can’t be possible - but which ones? The first time War of the Worlds reaches the Kuiper belt, someone panics and has to double check that a more aggressive group hasn’t actually invaded.

After humans are finally integrated into galactic culture, some issues crop up.

“Did you clean the waste facility?” the Janitorial Supervisor asks.

“Well, I would have,” the human starts, then proceeds to tell an outrageous story about a cleaning bot with a knife strapped to its back which has the entire crew searching the ship for hours. The entire crew except for the humans.

The Captain finds the humans “searching” the self-poisoning cabinet in one of the crew quarters.

“Oh my god,” the First Officer says, on seeing the Captain’s dust-speckled upper ears. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you really fell for that. Stabby is a cryptid, Harold!”

The Captain’s name is not Harold, but that is another, even longer story.

The Captain exhales. “What is a cryptid?”

The assistant medical officer sits up straighter, his drink sloshing dangerously. The Captain has learned what “a gleam in his eye” means and how to detect it. They sit, resigned. There’s no escaping now.

An hour later, the Captain explains the concept of cryptids in considerably less detail to the embarrassed and confused Supervisor. Along with the concept of lying.

“But how do you know the difference?” the Supervisor asks, wringing their tentacles in mixed embarrassment and worry.

“Find another human,” the Captain advises. “Check for signs of mirth.”

This turns out to be prescient, because on their next planetary stop, two of the human field officers come running back into the base camp, out of breath and without the rest of their scouting team.

“Nasty buggers with teeth!” one gasps. Though the other officers appear skeptical, the Captain glances at the First Officer, who is already setting down her meal and grabbing her favorite flamethrower. The assistant medical officer yanks his kit straps over his shoulders, face grim.

“Arm yourselves,” the Captain tells the rest.

It takes about four hours, but they get everyone back more or less intact. The humans change the sign in the rec room on the ship to read: “Us: 6, Them: 0″. There is a ritual raising of liquor-filled glasses, even by the injured who are forbidden self-poisoning. The Captain begins temporary hibernation very relieved that humans are so willing to count other species as “us”.

When they ask the First Officer about it two cycles later, the First Officer looks confused, then knowing.

“My great grandmother remembers when you first showed up. They picked your people for first contact for a reason, didn’t they?”

“We look the most like you.”

“Yeah, well, that was a bad call. Gran says humans debated for months whether or not you were just other humans with good prosthetic makeup.”

The Captain blinks at this. “Most peoples are shocked and upset to learn the rest of the sentient universe does not share their appearance. Wait.” They pause. “Is that why we had so many applicants for the Janitorial position?”

The First Officer ignores that, as she usually does when the Captain doesn’t really want to know the answer.

“Do you know why cryptids exist? Why horror and violence and monsters exist in our stories?” she asks instead.

The Captain twitches both sets of ears ‘no’. “It seems unnecessary to frighten yourselves over things that don’t exist.”

“But nasty buggers with teeth do exist, even if we haven’t met them yet,” she says grimly. “And we were ready, weren’t we?”

It’s true. The humans on board have been terrifyingly adaptable, even in their violence.

The Captain feels their way carefully. “You think about things that don’t exist… sometimes even things that distress and terrify you… so that you can be ready when you face real things that distress and terrify you?”

“See, this is why you’re the Captain, Harold.” The First Officer slaps their shoulder hump cheerfully, careful to avoid the spines. “And better yet, we share the things we imagine with each other. It’s like a mental vaccine.”

“And it works?”

“Eh, sometimes. It’s not perfect. Sometimes we don’t mark our vaccines properly, or don’t realize we’re adding things we didn’t mean to. Some of them have a bad effect on some people, for various reasons. But we joined the galactic community in less than a generation. Has any other species ever done that?”

“You imagined us before you met us.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

Mutually Assured Dating

‘You were singing really loudly in the shower when I broke into your apartment but then i heard you slip and crash and oh god i should probably check on you in case i get done for murder instead of just robbery’ AU


It took all of fourteen seconds for Derek to realize he was in the wrong apartment.

First, he noticed the very large and scuffed up sneakers and boots ditched haphazardly kind of near the door but half into the living room. Cora was meticulous about her shoes and kept them neatly arranged in a shoe rack right next to the door. The only time they touched the floor was when her feet were in them.

Second, the stuff. There was so much stuff everywhere; clothes thrown over the back of the couch, dishes across the coffee table and all over the kitchen counters, books on every surface, a gaming console dragging wires across the floor and surrounded by games, in cases and out of them. Cora was an unintentional minimalist, in that she threw out anything she didn’t need and lacked a single sentimental bone in her body. Derek and Laura regularly made trips to wherever she lived to save family keepsakes and memories from her ruthless cleaning sprees.

Then he noticed the manly warble coming from somewhere deeper in the apartment, and Cora’s favorite topic of rant floated lazily to the forefront of his mind.

—but my neighbor, oh my god this guy! I’m going to kill him if I ever see him in the hall! His bathroom shares a wall with my bedroom and he sings in the shower, every shower, at all hours. Literally all hours, like 4am, and he only sings Christmas carols at 4am. I’ve had Jingle Bells stuck in my head for a week! 

Shoes, stuff, singing.

This was not Cora’s apartment.

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⇁ nudes, not flowers | 02

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

pairing⇁Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook

genre⇁smut || fuckboi!au

warnings⇁voyeurism + exhibitionism, dom!junghope, power play?, dirty talk!!!, jealousy, demeaning names during sex, the threesome, & probably other warnings byE 

word count⇁10.4k 

You’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines—but you do. The problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. After that, you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions.

or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps

 ⇁  01 | 02 (final)  sequel

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Honestly gettin’ pretty sick of people coming to me to trash Joseph whenever I say he’s a complicated character with a lot of nuance, so hey, here’s my take on the whole Mary-Robert-Joseph situation.

I’ll put this all under a cut so here are some disclaimers; This is full of spoilers, I’m writing this under the assumption that all the cult end stuff is non-canon, and yes, this is only one possible interpretation of the information we can glean from the character interactions (also, taken from what may later prove to be incomplete information as more endings are unlocked/glitches are fixed/content is released). I like it because I think it’s the most interesting and empathetic for all of the characters involved and because I don’t think it’s the kind of situation that necessarily has to have a “villain”.

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quotes from the music department

*Repeatedly sings part of the music in scat*

“Ben swore to Jesus that if he didn’t help me at the concert he’d do thirty push-ups in front of the entire band, and I’m just as excited for this as you guys are.”

“If it were easy, football players would be doing this”

“We were 4.75 points off of the next band, and I’ll make certain this number will haunt you until next season.”

“Tomorrow’s gonna be a rough week.”

“I’ll just get a golf cart to follow the band in the parade. Maybe one day I’ll play a halftime show in a golf cart, all by myself.”

“No, Danny, you’re not starting a group chat for jazz.”

“Someone made me a 22&½-inch stick to measure steps. Don’t make me use it.”

“Trumpets, raise your right hand, and move it over to the person next to you. You’ll be fingering the notes on their trumpet.” *leans over to woodwinds* “this is gonna be really funny”

“We don’t have Thursday night rehearsal this week, so live the lives you have outside of band. So basically, catch up on homework.”

“Here it is– wait no, that’s 32 pages, that’s not right.”

“Before we step off on Saturday, you need to focus and say the following prayer”

“All the freshmen are on break, none of them are here!” *section leader raises hand* “Adeline’s here” “She’s the only one ADELINE WHY DONT YOU TAKE BREAKS IN THE STANDS”

“I hope this is loud enough, because this is as loud as its gonna get” *glares at the saxophone that forgot the speaker* “He forgot the speaker, my own flesh and blood.”

“As usual, the bassist knows the articulation and rhythms to the saxophone parts better than the saxophones do.”

*beatboxes to metronome*

“I want you to go home, do homework, practice, do more homework, have a milkshake, and practice some more.”

“If you want to annoy the heck out of a musician, play a cadence but leave out the last chord and wait like 20 minutes”

“this passage is called ‘Glendy Burk.’ I went to high school with her, actually.”

“you aren’t feeling well? Drugs?”

“while I was in the middle of complimenting you, you made a mistake”

“that saxophone line was jazzy as hell”

“you just have to play angrier”

“what’s the point if they’re all accented?”

“you squeaked in tune”

“can you take that d?”

“you can play my final pitch”

“imagine brass knuckles, but on a tambourine”

“I had to blow on my tongue”

“Bethany, you’re my number one!”

“the entire band is pianissimo, so play really loud. mezzo piano.”

“go through the head”

“BAD tambourine!!!”

“112 is the American tempo”

“the audience started clapping during the caesura. I didn’t know whether to continue on or leave the stage.”

“Matthew, while you were gone, Ed and I determined that you’re a freeloader”

“you came in early” “I don’t remember”

“did you just compare terrible bass parts to a terrorist attack?”

“Christ, Elizabeth, you’re such a violinist”

“All of our violas are at another rehearsal today, so we’ll begin today’s rehearsal with a prayer as that is the only thing that can save us.”

“We don’t have a spare bass bow to use while Ed’s is being rehaired, so you two are just gonna have to share. Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Ah, yes, but what baroque style are we talkin’ here”

“It was at that point she handed the first chair violin a viola part. He proceeded to hand it back to her.”

“I went home and cradled that music. I never get original bass parts.”

“She turned the page in her score and forgot to continue conducting. Honestly, I would’ve been less surprised had she thrown her baton into the cello section”

“There are two basses in pit this year, so we’re an actual section, so he can’t just shove us in the corner this year HIGH FIVE”

“Does she really know how to buy a bow? She should make it a field trip so you get the right one.” *swings hands in air super wide* “it has to AGREE and BLEND with the instrument DO YOU SEE”

“When the orchestra director doesn’t know what to do she just asks the second chair. If he’s gone, she waits until a day he attends rehearsal to ask him.”

“Don’t be afraid to play out. Except during rests. Then you should be very afraid.”

“is it ok if I start to cry a little right now?”

“I had anaemia as a kid, and my schoolteacher’s name sounded like ‘anaemia’, so naturally, I hated her”

“she took the pen out of my hand and said, ‘no, Richard, use pencil.’ I was so mad”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that there are fewer bassists today and higher rates of suicide, gang violence, school shootings…”

“channel your inner Whitney Houston”

“play quietly, like you’re about to wake a baby. except you’re the baby, because you didn’t practice”

“I have another metronome app now. I collect them.”

“if someone calls my bass a cello one more time I’m gonna lose it”

“at the gig, a drunk guy came up to me, pointed to my harp, and called it a sideways piano”

“I want the space between these notes to be so big you can fit a little drawing of a house, a sun, a tree, and little dog in there.”

“90º angle notes”

“I want the sixteenth notes so sharp they could kill a man”

“turn the soundbox on”

“do you have a fancy phone? the answer is yes, yes you do.”

“I listened to the narration a few times before realising it was in German”

“I’ve got, like, four copies of that piece. the conductor keeps forgetting that I already have it and makes me a new copy.”

“soon I’ll have AIDS. Hearing aids, I mean. I’m old, is what I’m saying”

“more birdlike, turn on roundabout faster”

“kissing from the left is different from kissing from the right. not that I would know. asking for a friend.”

Some Strings Attached

Ugh so there was a post going around that I’ve now long since misplaced but it was like “I just saw you go upstairs with someone else and I know we’re only fuck buddies but I’m gonna go punch them in the face” and I was HERE FOR IT. If somebody remembers the post, link me. In the meantime, have some Sterek getting together fluff.

“Just tell Derek you want to date him,” Scott says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Stiles bugs his eyes and flails his hands in wordless frustration, because the correct response to this patently ludicrous advice eludes him. He had come for sympathy, not pie-in-the-sky delusions. “Scott. Bro,” he finally gasps. “How could you even suggest that in good faith? No way! Bad plan!” He slashes his arms in a demonstrative X. “The only reason we’re even hooking up is that I made it super clear I was down to fuck, no strings attached! I’m not ruining a good thing by announcing to Derek Hale that I’m 85% in love with him.”

“Why?” Scott genuinely seems confused, the sweet summer child. After falling into a happy triad with Allison and Isaac after their first semester at UCLA, he doesn’t really understand the definition of “unrequited.”

Stiles turns his attention to a hanging thread on his t-shirt, sourly tugging it loose. “He’s out of my league. I mean, with the baseball, and the smarts, and the sarcasm, and those eyes…” he breaks off with a sigh. The last thing he needs to do is remind himself of how gone he is on Derek. “Just, he’s popular. Dictionary definition of too cool for school. And the three people he actually deigns to hang out with here are all just as cool and good looking as he is. Do I need to remind you I’m not? I’m a gawky, nerdy Sophomore. I’m lucky to even be his fuck-buddy.”

Scott makes a face, incredulous. “I dunno, he must like you well enough if he’s still sleeping with you after all this time. What’s it been, six months? And you guys hang out, too, you’re always telling me about how easy it is to chat with him after you bone. So it’s not just sex.”

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, but it’s not…”


“… a real relationship,” Derek says into the phone, hearing full well the heavy dejection in his voice. So sue him; the admission is more than a little depressing. “He just wants to be fuck buddies.”

“How do you know?” Laura asks reasonably. “Maybe this Stiles person would be interested in dating you, too. No offence, but you’re not great at reading people. I mean, he’s interested in chilling with you even after you hook up, and clearly he enjoys the physical aspect. Did he actually ever say he wasn’t looking for more?”

Derek heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes even though she can’t see over the phone. “Yep. About two minutes after the first time we slept together he said, ‘no strings attached, obviously.’ So, you know, pretty safe bet that it’s no strings attached.”

“Oh,” Laura says. For once she doesn’t have a snappy comeback.

“Oh,” Derek agrees. Dejectedly.

She gives him a sympathetic little hum, and then asks, “and he’ll definitely be at the sorority barbecue?”

“Yeah.” Stiles and his broad shoulders and his long fingers are definitely going to be at the party.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” his sister says softly. “If you really like him, and he’s just looking to get laid…”

Derek groans. Not go, and give up a chance to hook up with Stiles? Smart, maybe, but not something he’s capable of doing.

The problem is, he’s liked Stiles forever. Or at least since he first saw him, laughing uproariously and running around with his friends with an actually broom between his legs, playing “Quidditch.” Derek would have been way too embarrassed to do something like that on the front lawn, but Stiles made it seem like the most effortlessly awesome thing a person could get up to.

No, compared to Stiles, Derek is practically a social recluse, an awkward jock with only about three people who he gets along with at all. Stiles definitely doesn’t want to get saddled with a boyfriend like him. He’s lucky they’re even hooking up after all this time.

“Derek, I mean it,” Laura says. “Look out for yourself for once.”

“I know, I know,” Derek grumbles. “But it’s not my fault he’s…”

Keep reading

Day One Hundred and Ten

-On my way into the store, I found a motorized cart abandoned on the curb. My throne awaited me, and I am never one to pass on a stylish entrance. Not a single person noticed me, but my mood skyrocketed in preparation for my shift.

-A man clad entirely in black, arms wrapped in smoky tattoos of the Grim Reaper and other equally sordid icons, came through my lane. In a low growl, he asked me if we sold ouija boards. I replied that I did not know. He told me that he was with the Disciples of the Ram. As I handed him his receipt and change, he hissed loudly and threw his arms up, intending to strike fear into the hearts of onlookers, not intending to launch his change across the floor.

-A woman purchased six tubs of Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter World ice cream, clearly preparing to make my life’s dream a reality.

-I found at the top of my till a five dollar bill with the name Brandon and a phone number scrawled across ol’ Babraham’s face. Unfortunately, I had not been paying enough attention to know whether Brandon himself had attempted to slide me his number, or whether an unwilling recipient was trying to rid themselves of evidence of the encounter. Nonetheless, I copied down the number for when next a nefarious mood strikes.

-A woman in her forties cackled maniacally as she purchased a book with a flatulence soundboard, proclaiming over and over the wonders of a book about farts that actually farts at you. I have finally found her. She is the target audience my lifetime of comedy has been meant for.

-A three year-old pointed at the six year-old in the cart behind them and asked, “Baby?” The mother explained to their child that, no, that was not a baby, and she was in fact older than them. While the mother remained entirely oblivious to the reality of the situation, I did not. That child was fully aware that the girl was not a baby. Their pickup game is simply well beyond their years.

-A young girl asked me for a bandaid. I had none, so I instead offered her a strip of stickers. This seemed to do the trick, as she began counting them off and giggling in joy, giving each the smallest of kisses. A young boy pulls up in a cart behind her. The girl stands up, extends the strip of stickers, announces, “I have all the stickers! Look at them! I got all of them!” and sits back down, proud of her work. After a brief look from her mother, she peeled one off and handed it to the boy. Too emotional for words, the toddler accepted the sticker, silently committing to this contract of eternal friendship.

So I finally went through omgeverythingplease and here are things that I didn’t know
  • Bitty is OBSESSED with food. OBSESSED.
  • Boy has a *problem*
  • Like I know we like to headcanon that Bitty goes into some sort of media, but he’s more likely to become a food critic. Basically he’s more into the “baking” part of “baking vlog” than the “vlog” part.
  • Holster is a grumpy messy bitch.
  • For real, the team seriously debated who was grumpier: Jack or Holster
  • (for like, a hot second, before the answer became obvious)
  • (It’s Jack. Jack is the grumpiest)
  • Ransom and Bitty are very close friends. Close enough that Bitty chirps Holster that he’s being replaced via tweet.
  • Ransom and Bitty get PSLs from “ ‘Bucks”.
  • That is a quote. Eric Richard Bittle has called Starbucks, ‘Bucks.
  • (I bet he calls Target, Tar-zhay too)
  • This one was a bit more analytical: we found out about Jack coaching peewee via Bitty’s twitter
  • Bitty is the one who tells us that the Jack says the kids call him “Coach Z”
  • Because Bitty is the one who typed out the tweet, if the kids called Jack “Coach Zed”, he would have spelled out “Zed.”
  • Therefore we can assume that the kids called Jack “Coach Zee” and not “Coach Zed”
  • However this revelation by Jack was immediately followed by a debate over Zee vs. Zed. So who really knows?
  • I still don’t know how either of them pronounces “pecan”
  • More after the cut because this is getting long

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Wait what happened with supergirl? Never really watched it but as usual theres chaos. I know theres an lgbt couple there did they die or something soph?

Well there’s two LGBTQ+ pairing in the show, one is canon “Sanvers” (Alex Danvers + Maggie Sawyer) and one is non canon “Supercorp” (Kara Danvers aka Supergirl + Lena Luthor)

This week-end was the Comic con and during an interview a member of the cast was asked to make a singing recap of the season, but while singing that recap he isolated the Supercorp ship and sang the words “They’re only friends! They’re never gonna get together!” while laughing hysterically, a majority of the cast present there laughed with him, including Melissa Benoist who plays one half of Supercorp - basically mocking the ship. 

Songs starts at 1:30

Later in the interview Katie McGrath who plays the other half of Supercorp tried to defend the ship (7:15) but she was rudely interrupted, which pissed everyone off even more.

Now what those actors don’t understand is that an LGBTQ+ fandom, whether their pairing is canon or not, is always gonna be a very sensitive and vulnerable fandom. Because there are so little representations of the community, those ships are extremely important (you can include Camren there), and a LOT of fans felt attacked and ridiculed by the “joke” that this actor made. 

After that things escalated quickly, the actor in question, Jeremy Jordan, send out a message to apologize but basically didn’t, he made it about him and not about what the real issue was,

He later understood his mistake and send another message :

Also a few tweets - I think he got it

Other members of the cast also responded, using the basic “I can’t be homophobe, I worked in theater, I have gay friends, the show has a canon gay ship…” etc - trying to defend their behavior.

Then a fan (https://chloeniccole.tumblr.com) send an fucking incredible email to Melissa’s rep to explain why the fandom was so upset and what an important thing shipping is for the community

To which they responded, completely missing the whole point 😒😒😒

Hi Chloe,
Thank you for your email.  
As someone who was present in the room yesterday during the impromptu, musical recap of S2 during MTV’s live stream with the cast of SUPERGIRL, I can speak as a voice of reason and with objectivity as this situation requires.  It’s entirely up to you to accept or deny the following…
I will not undermine your feelings or those of anyone who took issue with what you’ve perceived to be offensive.  However, as an activist, it’s very important that you take a step back before inflicting public scorn.  As a role model, it’s incumbent upon you to shape your understanding and engage in meaningful and respectful dialogue based on fact and motivation, and not just on whether your feelings were bruised.
You cannot fairly denounce Melissa or Jeremy or the cast for what they DIDN’T say. You cannot fairly characterize their verbiage or actions as “aggressive,” on the contrary.  They were having fun in a riff session and hardly at the expense of the LGBT community. You cannot fairly assume or rationalize why David Harewood or Katie McGraff didn’t participate so to substantiate your argument.  To enter into a sensitive debate, you have to be really careful about making baseless claims based solely on emotion.
Chloe:  neither Melissa or Jeremy or any of the cast members marginalized any individual, regardless of orientation, by saying “Kara and Lena” are just friends. They didn’t say “can’t be friends” or “shouldn’t be friends” OR remotely imply that “two female characters would never see each other in a romantic light in their whole lives.”  Then you take it one step further to accuse them of declaring “the incomprehensibility of a woman loving another woman” and “blatantly made a mockery of non-heterosexual women.”  It’s wholly irresponsible to publicly admonish anyone, as you have on your social media platforms, and I mean anyone, for such a broad and unsubstantiated interpretation of the S2 recap.
That, Chloe, is actually the definition of defamation.
Allow me to also clarify for you that other than Melissa who MTV brass placed next to host Josh Horowitz, the cast seated themselves. As did all 13 casts of films and television shows that I guided through MTV.  Unless David and Katie said they felt “isolated” in their positions in the back, I would recommend you walk back these statements as well.  
There are gross injustices globally of the LGBT community. This was not one of those occasions. You may feel slighted because the creatives behind the SG series didn’t lead the Kara-Lena relationship in a direction that would have made you happy and proud in S2. You cannot therefore accuse them of being anti-gay.  If Josh Horowitz instead engaged in a serious Q&A with the cast as to why they didn’t take that path and Melissa, Jeremy and the cast responded “Kara cannot be in a relationship with Lena because she’s SUPERGIRL” then I invite you to protest loudly and with far more aggression and passion than what you perceived from the cast yesterday.
You’ve indicted people who are genuine ambassadors of acceptance, compassion and equality and have proven as much, not on only Glee but on SUPERGIRL and in their own personal lives.  
As you continue your mission to right the wrongs in society and especially those inflicted on the LGBT community, I highly recommend you postulate your arguments soundly.
Thank you Chloe for reaching out.
Kindly,”

And now apparently Melissa’s team is threatening to sue her for defamation…

Also other people who are in the LGBTQ+ tv-show horizon responded to the whole thing - Kaitlyn Alexander from Carmilla 

And Emily Andras who’s the showrunner of Wynonna Earp 

Anyways this whole thing has just reached the medias, so I think we’re gonna be hearing about this for a little while.

The issue here is a very common one unfortunately - public figures just don’t take the time to think and educate themselves - even if it doesn’t look like it, this is homophobia, a very latent, unintentional, type of homophobia, but still homophobia. 

It might seem silly and taken out of proportion, but the community has been shut down and mistreated for so many years by the television industry that now even the smallest thing matters. Those ships have such a huge impact on people’s lives, it’s important, and it has taken fucking years for showrunners to understand that, and some still haven’t caught up #fuckyoujasonrothenberg. Showrunners like Emily Andras and a cast like the one of Wynonna Earp are what this community needs - people who take the time to educate themselves, learn from other’s mistakes and most importantly listen and respect the fans. Because at the end of the day the fans are the ones calling the shots, I know for a fact that a majority of the fandom would stop watching Supergirl right now if it weren’t for the Sanvers storyline. The LGBTQ+ community is one of the most loyal source of fans a show and an actor can have, we’re the fucking bomb, we get shit done and we love and ship harder than any other fans, but if you betray us or disrespect us, there’s no coming back, and we will fucking roast you.