you can put her on stuff

anonymous asked:

OMG I FREAKING LOVE THE PARENT-TEACHER MEETING THING FOR BAKUGOU ITS AMAZING

HAHA! IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT! Sometimes I feel bad writing my own stuff (especially when I have like 30 request left and I know I should be putting those out l), but I just can’t help it!

I had major writer’s block last night when I was trying to finish some requests, but I have to have stuff queued so I wrote the Parent-Teacher Meeting.

Your admin is currently at her job … being bad … and getting on tumblr …. I’m not even on break lol

Okay so here’s one of those rare gems of moments where retail is actually kind of okay. 

I’m gonna start by revealing the well-kept secret that I live in Ohio… in case all the buckeye references flew by you. And Ohio… is obsessed with space travel. I mean- it makes sense. We’ve got a couple astronauts in our history, there’s the National Aeronautics and Space Museum in Dayton, and on those quiet summer nights, where the sky is clear and the stars are twinkling in the distance, it is hard to not look up at the darkness and wonder if there is intelligent life out there. (Not here.)

Anyhow, all the fourth graders have a big space-related project around this time of year and this means that we, as craft retailers, have to be problem solvers. The number one problem is ‘oh gods, please tell me that you’re going to put a primer down on that styrofoam before you spray paint it.’

Because- you guessed it- everyone is making a damn solar system model. 

That is to say… their parents are making the solar system model. 

I was just finishing up explaining the use of a styrofoam primer and which spray paints are safe to use with styro to the mother of one ten-year-old when the mother of another ten-year-old rounds the corner looking desperate. 

“Is this a good paint for cardboard?”

It’s not. So I round her back to where her son and daughter are waiting and explain them what will work. She needs green, and there are three different kinds of greens. The mom holds them up and has her daughter choose. 

“Which one do you want for your face?”

I freeze because putting acrylic on your skin is a great way to get a rash. “Hold on, you’re not putting this on your skin, are you?”

“No, gosh no. We’re painting a box and putting the box on her head.”

Okay, I’m curious. “Can you explain what you’re making?”

The daughter chimes in. “We have to do a project for school and I’m gonna dress up like a alien!”

Instantly, I love this child. Not just because she considers dressing up as an alien to be an acceptable school project, but because she’s not leaving it to her mom to do all the work. 

So we talk for a minute about project stuff and she tells me that her brother is going to be the first man on Mars. Her brother is five. Her brother concurs- he is going to be the first man on Mars. Their mom tells me about the Neil Armstrong museum nearby. Like… this is a family of people excited about the future of space travel.

“Did you hear about those new planets,” I asked. 

The little girl starts jumping up and down. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Mom: “Can you remember what they said about the new planets?”

“They said…. they said that they can… uhhh… sustain life! There might be aliens!”

Mom: “Now, they said they can sustain life, but I think they also said that it isn’t very advanced life.”

The little girl looks off into space- contemplating this new information. She is formulating a very important thought. 

Very softly: “We get to be the aliens this time.”

Emo band members as things said at my school
  • Brendon Urie: I mean I'm straight but I would suck a dick
  • Ryan ross: I'm a bruised apple in the produce aisle of life
  • Spencer smith: *frantically shoving 7 dollars at me* buy me weed when you're in Oregon
  • Jon Walker: my ankle smells like grapes and weed
  • Dallon weekes: Jesus wouldn't treat me like this
  • Patrick stump: if I put my hoodie on inside out is the world wearing it
  • Pete wentz: my wife just had her baby and no, you can't call me daddy
  • Joe trohman: well this guy was totally wrong but he did predict some stuff and some other stuff
  • Andy Hurley: who the hell wrote the entire spongebob theme song on my board
  • Tyler Joseph: do you even inhale
  • Josh dun: fuck you im independent! No, wait, I need a ride home
  • Gerard way: I look cute today? Well you look dead as fuck dude
  • Frank iero: you want to be taller so you can dunk? *gets in your face* jump higher you inbred
  • Ray toro: if there's water in the air then how are we not dead
  • Mikey way: I'm always ready to be hit by a car
Tumblr, I need your help

This post is different from my normal content, but I’m desperate here.

When my little sister was five and I was nine, we each bought a stuffed animal, a puppy dog. Mine is brown, and hers was cream-colored, and they were great comforts through moving, and growing up in an abusive household, and everything else that comes with that.

My sister lost hers at camp several years ago, and she’s been sad about it ever since. I’ve looked everywhere: ebay, amazon, thrift stores, rummage sales, talked to people on facebook, contacted the camp and the people that went there, tried to find the toy manufacturer (out of business), I attempted to contact the local store where we bought it…nothing.

I really want to help my sister here, and find her stuffed animal, or at least, one just like it. Again, this was a huge comfort to her through so much stuff that happened. It was always by her side, and it made her feel so happy, and since it’s been gone, I know she feels like something’s missing. She loved it so much.

I know that my only tool left to find it at this point is word-of-mouth. So if you would, could you spread this to as many people as you can? Put it on facebook if you want, screenshot it and send it to your friends, I don’t mind. I just want to help my little sister get her comfort animal back.

It’s a 12″-ish stuffed puppy dog, and the brand is Caltoy. Here are some pictures of mine, so you can see what hers is supposed to look like:

The only differences are that hers was a light yellow-cream color, and I think the ribbon on hers was blue (though I could be wrong about that).

More specifics:

It was sitting up, and had no tail. It was all the same color like this one, no dark ears/paws/etc, just the dark nose. It was made by Caltoy in or around 2003.

I would really like to find this for my sister, so that she can have that comfort again, and she definitely needs it right now. 

Please share it as much as you can, to friends or followers, whoever you can. I will be so grateful to all of you who help. <3

My contact info: starshipme (at) gmail.com, Askbox, and feel free to use tumblr messenger as well!

A funny thing about introducing a new queen into a hive that has lost its queen (or one that you’ve killed because her brood was too fighty). 

You have to introduce the new queen into the hive with these special queen cages that are stopped up with candy, and are open enough to let the hive smell the new queen, but not open enough that they can get in there and kill her.

Because they will kill her. 

When you first put the new queen in she smells like an intruder, but by the time it takes the bees to eat through the candy and free the queen, the queen’s pheromones will have had time to work and the hive will have gotten used to her.

From the outside this kinda seems like: 

“Yeh, we were all going to murder you to death before, but we’re full of candy now, so we’re cool. Oh yeh, and how about you be the new queen and stuff. Yeh, that’s cool too.” 

you know who i’m so grateful for? amy santiago

  • firstly, she isn’t stereotyped at all but her culture isn’t ignored
  • despite her rule following and sucking up to her superiors she’s never been a killjoy and ruined things for the rest of the squad
  • she’s always been portrayed very much as jake’s equal, even though they’re so different, they’re still both super good at their jobs
  • she’s never just been a love interest, the show has given story lines outside of her relationship with jake and she has been allowed to grow and develop friendships with the other characters
  • her character development has been amazing. she was so concerned with impressing holt in s1 and now in s3 she’s become so great at standing up to him and making sure that he respects her as much as she respects him
  • she’s also become a lot more chill, without becoming, y’know, actually chill, probably thanks to her friendship/sister-in-law-hood with gina
  • she proves that you can be a nerd and be badass
  • she’s a disastrous chef and she doesn’t think that putting eIGHTEEN CUPS OF OREGANO in cooking is at all weird, what a dork
  • she outsmarted both jake and holt when they underestimated her also rosa called her an evil genius (because she fucking could be, okay)
  • she’s also really adorable and sometimes i find myself getting distracted by how pretty her face is
SKAM S04E06 Clip 3 - Fake Fake Fake

EVA: I wanted to write a causerie, but I’m not funny at all. I think it’s really difficult.

NOORA: I don’t even get what a causerie is.

EVA: I was really struggling. It’s like.. It doesn’t even matter whether I have a good day when we have a mock exam. I feel like it’s..

[DIALOGUE FADES OUT]

EVA: Are you joining us? Sana!

SANA: Huh?

EVA: Are you joining us for McDonalds?

SANA: No, I’m reading for my mock exam.

NOORA: Okay. Should we buy you something?

SANA: No, no thanks.

EVA: Yes.. Talk to you later.

NOORA: Bye.

EVA: I’m sooo hungry.

NOORA: Me too!

ISAK: Have Sara stolen your friends or something?

SANA: Huh? No!

ISAK: No? Okay, I’m kidding. Fake, fake, fake, fake. Ugh, girls. Sara doesn’t even like Vilde.

SANA: How do you know?

ISAK: Because she talks shit about her.

SANA: To you?

ISAK: Mhm.

SANA: Are you and Sara friends or something?

ISAK: We were in a relationship.

SANA: That’s true. How could you even stand dating her?

ISAK: No, good question.. It wasn’t a very sexual relationship, to put it that way. We mostly chatted. Looking back on that relationship, I was more of an online therapist than a boyfriend. I would’ve loved some payment for all that time I spent reading shit talk about russ friends and stuff. I couldn’t give more of a fuck. Hey! Sister species are species which are determined morphologically?

SANA: No. Sister species are species which are similar in exterior traits, but which can be completely different genetically.

ISAK: I’m gonna go hang myself.

8

When we get caught up in the minutiae, the details that make us all different, there’s two ways of seeing that. You can see the texture of that person, the qualities that make them unique, or you can go to war about it, say, ‘That person is different from me, I don’t like you, so let’s battle.’ My mother is an ordained minister, I’m a Muslim. She didn’t do backflips when I called her to tell her I converted 17 years ago. But I tell you now, we put things to the side, I’m able to see her, she’s able to see me, we love each other, the love has grown. That stuff is minutiae. It’s not that important.

Dating Tom Holland Would Include....

  • Constantly bickering with Harrison on who Tom loves more. 
  • Always winning these fights
  • “Sorry mate, but have you seen her? She’s absolutely stunning.”
  • Having all sorts of adventures with Tom and Harrison
  • Because let’s face it, wherever Tom goes, Harrison follows.
  •  But never really minding because as long as Tom is around, so are you.
  • Tom always making sure that you’re okay. 
  • “You sure, love? Okay. I just want to make sure my girl is happy.” 
  • Him wrapping his arms around you every chance he gets.
  • Calling you every kind of cute nickname in the book because he can never just pick one.
  • “Babe, love, doll, sweetie, beautiful, gorgeous, cutie, honey,” All of them.
  • Sometimes finding himself just staring at you because he can not believe how lucky he is to have you.
  • Having to break up Tom and Harrison’s arguments on who loves you more. 
  • “Enough, you two. I swear you guys are like little kids fighting over a toy, and I am NOT a toy.” 
  • “Course you’re not, babe. But, I do love you more than Haz.” 
  • “I know you do. Why do you think I’m with you.” 
  • Tom leaving you with little notes that he placed everywhere.
  • “Hey babe, I love you!”
  • “Did you know you’re amazing?”
  • “You’re my girl, don’t ever forget.” 
  • “Call me when you find this!” 
  • “I could stare you forever.” 
  • “You’re the first and last person on my mind.” 
  • “I miss you.” 
  • Tom begging you to go with him everywhere because he just doesn’t want to leave you. 
  • “Please come with me.” 
  • “No, Tom. I have to work-”
  • “-but, I’m Spiderman. You don’t have to work.” 
  • “Did you just seriously use that line on me?”
  • “Did it work?” 
  • “Absolutely not, you dork. I love you, I do but I promise I’ll come visit. Okay?”
  • “Fine, but you better.” 
  • Always, always feeling guilty because you know that sometimes he gets a little bit of anxiety and stressed and you seem to be the only remedy. 
  • Flying out on the next flight possible.
  • And immediately all the stress and anxious thoughts are thrown out the window the minute he sees you. 
  • Him always whispering in your ear, “Thank you.” 
  • Always reassuring him that he’s earned all the success in his life.
  • Sometimes feeling a little scared that he’ll forget you with his oncoming fame. 
  • Tom reading you like a book and breaking these thoughts from your head. 
  • “You do know that I love you right? And that I wouldn’t be here without you. I’d be a wreck if I ever lost you. Don’t ever think for one second that I could make it without you.” 
  • Feeling reassured until the next time you felt scared. 
  • Tom always going above and beyond in his gifts for you on birthdays, anniversaries, and just because he want to’s. 
  • Him surprising you with a vacation to a place you’ve always wanted to visit. 
  • Following him basically anywhere and everywhere because he will literally get on his hands and knees to beg.
  • Forcing you to play basketball with him even though you know that there’s a reason why you’re not a pro basketball player. 
  • But always seeming to win.
  • Knowing that he lets you.
  • But never questioning it because it was his way of spending time with you.
  • Spending time with his family.
  • Because in a way, they’re your second family.
  • Tom’s mother commenting on how happy she is that Tom has found himself a wonderful girl.
  • His father agreeing one hundred percent and cracking jokes as to when they should expect the wedding.
  • His brothers always teasing Tom about how much you have him wrapped around your finger.
  • Blushing because you would never want him to be “whipped”, but it’s nice to know that you have that power.
  • Tom clapping back with, “At least I’ve got a girlfriend.” 
  • Laughing when they’d all get into a wrestling match.
  • “If I win, [Y/N] is mine!”
  • “No, if I win, [Y/N] mine!”
  • “Bloody Hell! You gits think you’re actually going to win? [Y/N] will always be mine, whether or not I do lose.” 
  • Going to the gym with him.
  • Getting distracted because by God those muscles should be illegal.
  • Him knowing it and teasing you about it.
  • Always getting back at him by doing anything and everything that shows of your figure.
  • Tom throwing down his weights and attacking you with kisses. 
  • Him always being respectful of your boundaries. 
  • Never pushing you to do things you don’t want to do. 
  • You loving him for it.
  • Knowing that you will eventually let him but just not right now because you’re not ready.
  • And him being perfectly okay with that.
  • Sparring with him.
  • Tom being beyond impressed at your skills.
  • Telling you everyday how much he loves you.
  • Begging him to take you to go get icecream even though he can’t really have any.
  • Scolding him when he says, “fuck it,” and gets himself some. 
  • “You’re trainer is going to be pissed.”
  • “So what.” 
  • Shaking your head and enjoying your icecream date with him.
  • Taking Tess out for walks together.
  • Taking a million pictures of her because she’s just so damn cute.
  • Lazy days with Tess
  • Cuddling the poor dog into suffocation until she can’t take it anymore and leaves.
  • Leaving you two clinging onto each other.
  • Tom leaving trails of kisses along your forehead.
  • Holding you tight.
  • Falling asleep in each other’s arms. 
  • Waking up in the middle of night, panicking because your parents are going to freak out.
  • Tom shooting out of bed to get you home.
  • Him trying to help you sneak into your house without your parents waking up.
  • Him mumbling that the two of you should just move out together.
  • Telling him that it would be a good idea but to talk about it later.
  • Tom always gushing about you in interviews.
  • Always being his plus one to the films you want to see.
  • Introducing you to your favorite actors.
  • Getting embarrassed when Robert Downey Jr. finally gets to meet you.
  • “SO, this is the girl you never shut up about? It’s about damn time I finally meet her. [Y/N], it’s so lovely to meet you. I feel like I practically know you with the amount of stuff Tom has told me about you.” 
  • Also getting a little embarrassed but not as embarrassed as when fans stop you on the streets.
  • Getting panicky because you’re just waiting for the hate.
  • But being surprised when it’s nothing but love and awe.
  • Agreeing to take pictures with them and asking to take one of them so you can put it on Instagram as well. 
  • Speaking of Instagram, Tom is forever posting sly pictures of you. 
  • You are literally all over his page.
  • But, it’s okay because he is all over yours.
  • You’ve been trending on #couplegoals for days
  • Threatening Tom with his life if he doesn’t stop posting the selfies you send him. 
  • Him not caring.
  • “I’ll take my chances, babe.”
  • Getting him back on snapchat with the crazy filters.
  • Agreeing to tone down the embarrassing pictures. 
  • But one or two always comes leaking out and you are forever mortified. 
  • Starting a prank war. 
  • You always seeming to have better pranks.
  • Feeling bad and deciding to call it off but not before Tom gets you really good. 
  • Laying out under the stars and talking about the future.
  • Telling each other that as long as you have each other, the future can bring whatever it wants.
  • Tom surprising you with a promise ring. 
  • “We’re both still really young and I know a lot of people our age are getting married but I just can’t imagine getting married at this moment. But at least with this, it’s a promise that you will have my last name, just not right now.” 
  • You accepting it because there is not a damn soul on this earth aside from Tom that you could see yourself with.

Truly a graceful beast, the flying butter horse is known for it’s soft hooved landings.

Tried some new stuff with this one, think it turned out pretty good! I think you can probably tell I put a little bit of extra care into her. This flooter will be a sticker design for upcoming conventions so if you like her, she’ll be available.

10

Perfect Princess Moon vs. Actual Queen Moon Butterfly 

Yeah. When you write a character who is like yourself or someone you know, you don’t want it to be reduced down to something like, She’s crazy or She’s a bad mom, or She’s a good mom with a bad daughter. I wanted to write complex characters who sometimes do bad things. I wanted to put something on every page that was like, Just remember, they’re a human! There’s a paragraph that’s like, They’re doing the best they can, but sometimes the best you can do falls short. That’s the most terrifying part. But you fall in love with these people and you hope that you made them nuanced enough that people won’t reduce them down. Lynn Steger Strong 

+ BONUS

it’s amazing how you can watch something so many times and still miss out on stuff, like, we all knew jughead slid his hand up betty’s thigh 

but i just noticed betty also puts her hand on jughead’s leg 

2

You love each other, you’re made for each other. Whatever you two have, it works. Don’t change a thing. You are gonna be great as husband and wife.

New Old Captain

Read here on ao3 (x)

Lardo was hunched over her laptop working on a write up for her final art project and Ford was across the table from her, finalizing room assignments for the boys’ upcoming (and final) roadie, when the front door opened and a voice called out, “Hello?”

“Jack?” Lardo scrambled out of her chair and into the front hallway. Ford leaned over to save Lardo’s document, then slowly followed after her. She didn’t think she had met anyone on the team named Jack, but who else would be coming to the Haus? She ran through a mental roster of the team, but didn’t come up with anything.

She found Lardo wrapped up in what looked like the world’s comfiest hug with a man who had to be a foot taller than her, and if he wasn’t some sort of athlete, Ford would eat her rooming assignments. His arms, good lord.

“Who’s this, Ris?” He asked, catching sight of Ford.

“Ford, our new manager,” Lardo’s voice was muffled into his chest. “Ford, this is Jack. You should have told someone you were coming, Ransom and Holster made an extra practice today and everyone else is at the rink.”

Keep reading

The Runaway Ballerina

Pairing: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader, some Cas 

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Reader has been hexed by witch that turned her into a toddler, and a jealous Dean becomes very annoyed. 

A/N: I hit 100 followers, so in honor of that I’ll be posting some imagines so if you guys have any request send them down and I’ll try my best.


Part 2

Originally posted by helvonasche


Sam and Dean sit in baby staring at their once 25 year old sister who was now 4 years old in a ballerina outfit because that’s what she picked out at the store when they needed to buy her clothes. The previous hunt they were on Y/N got hit by some weird powder by a witch and Dean woke up the following morning to a tiny hand on his face.

“Why do you guys keeping wooking at me weird?” She ask looking between them. “You’re just so tiny.” Sam smiles. “She’s so cute!” Sam adds looking at Dean. “Yeah, I remember.” He mumbles as they get out the car to go food shopping for the bunker.

“Come on Y/N.” Sam chimes as he opens the back door for her. He holds her hand as they cross the street to the store. She lets go and runs to the shopping carts to grab one. They stand there watching her struggle to get one cart out because they were stuck together. (Don’t you just hate that) “I got it.” Sam chuckles getting it. As they walk in store Y/N skips ahead next to Dean to hold his hand but he keeps moving his hand so she can’t grab it.

“I don’t wanna hold your hand, thanks. I don’t wanna hold your hand.” He argues. She frowns and grabs a hold of his hand and grips it tight. “Ow, ow, let go of my hand.” He growls. “That hurts.” He glares down at her. She whimpers and peeks over to Sam who looks down at her. “What’s wrong bug?”

“Dean won’t hold my hand.” Y/N pouts. Sam gives Dean his signature bitch face and Dean grunts and grabs her hand. “She always did this before.” He mumbles but Sam just chuckles shaking his head. “Why did you choose a costume?” Dean ask looking at her ballerina outfit. “It’s not a costume it’s my protective gear.”

“How’s a ballerina costume suppose to protect you?”

“Are you crazy who wants to hurt a ballewina?” She protest. “Other ballerinas.” Dean shrugs. Once Dean had enough he throws Y/N in the seat of the cart and she rambles to Sam who too eventually has enough of her talk of Princes and fairies and he gives her his iPod. She bops her head and swings her hanging legs accidentally kicking Sam once in awhile listening to music as they get to the register. “Can I has some lime jerky?” She ask pointing down below to the candy and jerky. Sam is about to protest remembering her eating habit but Dean holds his hand up to stop him. “Your remember how she was when she didn’t get things. She whined and whined.” Sam grabs the jerky and puts it down with the of stuff and Y/N smiles. The ride to the bunker is an half hour away and Y/N becomes very impatient.

“Are we there yet?” She grunts tugging on her seatbelt. “We get there when we get there Y/N.” Dean answers annoyed. “Why do you have to be such a meany?” She yells. Sam stops Dean before he can even talk back. “Hey princess let’s play a game.” Sam says turning around in his seat. “Okay!”

“Let’s play the license plate game.”

“Yay okay!” Y/N props herself on the seat and looks out the window. There isn’t much cars on the road and she eventually falls asleep from boredom. When they arrive Sam carries Y/N down the stairs seeing Cas sitting in the war room. “Who’s the child?” He questions noticing a sleeping Y/N in Sam’s arms.

“Cas it’s Y/N.” He chuckles. “Y/N isn’t two feet tall.”

“She got hit by some mumbo jumbo powder and now she’s four years old so we need to find a way to reverse it.” Dean explains as they walk to the kitchen. “Cas would you mind taking her to her room?” Sam ask. Cas hesitates at first and nods. Sam passes her gently so she doesn’t wake up. She stirs in Cas’s arms for a moment and becomes still again. He takes her to her room settling her down on the bed. He admires her small body seeing fully that it clearly was Y/N. He remembers Y/N showing him some pictures of her and boys when they were younger.

An hour goes passed and the boys sit in the library reading some books. “Do children usually nap for this long?” Cas questions. “You have a point totally forgot. She’s too quiet now that I realize.” Sam intervenes. “Oh no.” Dean mumbles getting up. “What? What is it?” Cas questions following them to the kitchen.

“Whenever Y/N was quiet it meant that she’s was either hiding something or she’s going through the pantry for cand—”

Sure enough when they reach the kitchen they see a stash of candy wrappers opened along with other snacks, but that wasn’t the problem. This was Dean’s secret stash. “Son of bitch.” He stomps his boot. “If she throws up, I’m blaming you!”  Dean scolds at Sam with a pointed finger. They go into the hallways to look for her. “Y/N!” Dean screams. He goes to her room not seeing her there and is about to leave till he hears shuffling from the closet. He slowly walks up to the closet grabbing the door knobs and swings them open spotting the little ballerina with a chocolate stained mouth.

“THERE YOU ARE!” She screams crawling through Deans legs and makes a run for it in the hallway.

“Sammy get her!” He screams. Sam sees a small body dart across the hallway. He runs after her but loses her once he turns the corner. Five minutes go by and Dean doesn’t find her. “I’m tried of playing games Y/N come out now or it’s time out for you!” After three minutes of searching he meets in the war room with Sam. “She’s in so much trouble!” Dean grunts. “Dean, why are you so mad at her?”


“She ate my stuff!”

“No, not that. I mean ever since she turned you’ve been a meany like she said what’s up with that?” Dean doesn’t answer and looks away. Sam stands there waiting for the answer. Dean mumbles something inaudible he can’t hear. “What?”

“I said she likes you better then me.” He confesses. “Dean, what are you talking about?” He sighs before he answers.

“Every since Y/N was little she always liked you best. She was stuck to you like glue.” Sam stands there in shock. “Dean, she loves you a lot you know?” He raises an eyebrow hearing this. “Anytime you and dad were gone Y/N never shut about you. Asking me all these questions about cars and bugging me when you were gonna be back and how excited she was to learn  how to gank monsters from her big brother. Besides you too spend a bunch of time together now. Why is this affecting you?”

“Is that true?”

“Yes, I was kinda jealous because I thought she liked you more. And to be honest I’m a little jealous. You guys have a closer bond than I have with her now.” Sam admits. Suddenly Cas emerges into the war room carrying a crying Y/N. “What happened?” Sam ask. “Well when I was chasing her down she fell and hurt her knee.” He lifts her leg up showing the ripped pink unitard with a cut that is now bleeding just a little and the torn tutu. He goes to hand her to Sam’s out stretched arms but she whimpers rejecting him.


“I want Dean.” She whimpers crying. Dean lifts his head up hearing this and gets a good look at his baby sister. Her arms reached out for him leaning away from Cas. Her eyes puffy and red from crying. Dean realizes that he’s been so stupid that he didn’t need to be jealous, because him and Y/N get along perfect now when she’s not a toddler. She whimpers putting her arms down thinking her big brother yet again is rejecting her today until he reaches out for her and she quickly wraps her arms around his neck. “You okay?” He ask softly wiping her tear stained face. “No.” Y/N croaks shaking her head and he takes her to his room. He sets her down on his bed and helps her in one of his t-shirts after cleaning her face.


“I’m sorry I ate your candy.” She apologies in her small voice. “No, I’m sorry for being a meany today, I was just jealous.”

“Why?” She ask with a tilt of her head.

“It’s a long story. But let’s get a bandaid on this shall we?” He gets the first aid kit and cleans her scratch up. “Tank you.” She says once he’s finished. “Dean.” She calls out to him when he puts the stuff away. “Yeah?”

“Can we watch some cowboy movies?” He smiles at this and nods his head. “Sure thing sweetheart.” He sets the movie in his room while Cas helps her pop the popcorn. Half way through the movie Y/N starts falling asleep. He looks down under his arm seeing Y/N falling asleep with a piece of popcorn hanging of her bottom lip. “Getting sleepy there?” He lays down with her pulling the blanket up. “Frectles.” She mumbles. “What?” She puts one tiny finger in his face and says it again. “Frectles.” He frowns then gasp realizing what she meant. “You mean freckles.” He chuckles. “Yeah you has those.”

A/N: Would you guys like a Part 2?

anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

The Lord of the Wedding Rings: The Return of the King - iguana’s 2017 HELLsinki Worlds recap

This is it guys, the last big competition before the Olympics. So much potential for great skates, great disasters and great distress; this competition did not fail to deliver. Nor did the announcers, who were screaming out names and scores as if it were a wrestling match. And it was, in one way or another. Albeit a sparklier one. For a brief couple of days, we thought Javier Fernandez was gonna win his 3rd consecutive World title and I almost had those memes ready but at the same time I knew coming from behind like a wrecking ball was Yuzuru Hanyu’s specialty. To nobody’s surprise Evgenia Medvedeva broke a record; to everyone’s surprise, she only broke it in the long program. Meanwhile, Wenjing Sui and Cong Han’s blues for koolk brought the pairs crown back to China and Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir purple rained on Gabriella Papadakis and Guillaume Cizeron’s parade. Let’s start the recap!

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