you-guys-better-like-this

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™ .

“I‘d love you“

Request: “Could you do one where reader is in another band and is the singer or something like that“

(Y/N): I missed out on an episode of adventure time for this so you guys better like it. Thank you for submitting x 

Words: 1k

Originally posted by spookijosh

Being on tour is one of the greatest thing ever. You get to travel the world and do what you love with the people you love at the same time. Of course, it has its pros and cons but overall, it‘s something you could not be enough grateful for. On top of that, is the opportunity to somewhat give back to your fans, that have supported your band as a whole throughout all these years, through many ups and downs.

You wake up at early in the morning in the stronghold to watch the sunrise. This morning isn’t grey, but soothing lavender and brilliant amber. The colours merge into neon pink and peach. Catching a glimpse of your phone, you notice that it‘s way too early for you to get out of bed, so you choose to use the time to check your social medias. Immediately after opening the Twitter app, your vision gets bombard with thousands of notifications. However, almost all of them are hinting to one single tweet.

 ‘@tylerjoseph: @joshdun is seeing the love of his life live tonight. wish him luck‘

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Dating Daryl Dixon would include...

As I’m broadening my horizon beyond Marvel and DC stuffs, here’s some “The Walking Dead” things ! Daryl Dixon’s relationship headcanons, hope you’ll like it, and if you want more, don’t hesitate to ask yo : 

My masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com

__________________________________________________

How you met, falling in love, and the first “I love you” : 

✶ You were in Atlanta with your family when the zombie outbreak truly started, and barely managed to leave the center of the city in one piece, loosing everyone you ever loved…But at the time, you were too shocked to realize it. 

✶ You ended up in a forrest nearby…and that’s when you met him.

✶ He was hunting with his brother, and at first, thought you were completely nuts. “Zombies ? This gal’s crazy or something”. 

✶ Quickly though, the reality of what’s happening reaches the three of you, and you end up tagging along with them. 

✶ It helps that you know how to fend for yourself, how to shoot a gun/crossbow/bow  with great accuracy (your father used to take you on hunting trips often). You’re pretty sure they would have left you behind if you were completely useless. 

✶ You’re wrong though, it’s not like Daryl to abandon people behind. Not like him at all. And though Merle is a rough man, it’s not actually his thing either, though he’d never admit it. 

✶ When they ask about who taught you to shoot, you talk about your father, and even though you try to hold your tears in…You break down. Finally realizing you lost all your family in Atlanta. 

✶ “What about friends ? / I don’t have friends”, you tell him. He understands. Besides his brother, he has no one. As your tears run freely, he comforts you the best he can. Not good with words. So he awkwardly pats you on your back, until you burry yourself in his arms. And he lets you do it. 

✶ He doesn’t speak much at first. But whenever Merle is away, he’s more open, and conversation always seem to flow easily between the two of you. 

✶ He feels weird. He never felt the way he feels when he’s around you before. It was easy to become your friend. It’s easy to talk to you. He doesn’t mind spending hours just sitting next to you, not saying anything. It’s just weird for him, to get attach so fast to someone he knows since only a few weeks. 

✶ He knows he’s screwed because the weird feelings he’s been having is love when you, him and his brother meet a group of survivors lead by a certain “Shane”, and he doesn’t like the way that guy looks at you.

✶ His brother teases him about you, not thinking he’s actually right. Until he realizes that yes, his little brother has a thing for you. More than a thing. And then he teases him even more.

✶ You’re too afraid to tell him you feel the same thing about him because…well, sometimes he’s just kind of an asshole to you, so he can’t possibly like you back ? You didn’t realized that he was an ass only when Merle was around. 

✶ The day his brother dies, you give him a shoulder to cry on, and comfort him just like he comforted you months ago when you realized your entire family was dead. Only, you’re good with words, and thanks to you, for the first time in his life, he feels completely free, relieved, of any pain and suffering. 

✶ That night, he tells you about the abuse he suffered from when he was a kid, from his parents, and the one from his brother though he loved the damn fucker…and you suddenly understand. You understand everything.  

✶ “I’m here for you Daryl, and I don’t intend on going anywhere and I”…You don’t even have time to finish your sentence that his lips are on yours. 

✶ Never did he do something that felt so right. Kissing you just seemed so natural, as if he was made to do it. 

✶ For a second, you don’t respond and his heart drops…until your tongue demands passage in his mouth and oh damn is he dead too, and is he in Heaven right now ? It surely feels like it. 

✶ You guys don’t say “I love you” just yet though. You’re already both freaked out that you got attached so fast…Besides, the World you’re living in now doesn’t really give much time for romantic shit. 

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Good Girl

Title: Good Girl
Chapter: One-Shot
Pairing: Andy/OC
Rating: M
Fic Summary: Andy comes home with a present for his princess.
Author’s Notes: You guys better like this, because I feel like I need to go bathe in Holy Water or something. Also, this is kinda a continuation of my Daddy Dom!Andy one-shot.

I heard the front door open, then close. I sat up in bed confused. Then I heard Andy’s voice. “Oh where, oh where could my princess be?” I heard him say. I giggled then quickly covered my mouth.

He entered the bedroom and smiled. He knelt down in front of me on the floor and said, “There’s my princess”.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his.

“You look very cute”, he told me, fingering the baby pink negligee I had on, “Do you want to see what daddy brought you?”

I nodded excitedly.

He pulled a box out of a black bag and handed it to me. I opened the box and frowned.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“Well, princess, it’s called a bullet vibrator”, he said.

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hey friends ! so just now as I was drinking some tea I had n idea !! I’m thinking it might be fun if I made a private account (on insta) where I post random shit n anyone from here can follow it !! I’ll follow everyone back as well n it’ll just be a lil corner of the internet where we can all hangout n chat !!! also then I’ll be able to see what you guys are all up to, interact with you guys more, see your beautiful art, photography, etc n maybe eventually I can do live streams on there n answer some questions !!!! I just really wanna get to know you guys better n I feel like that might be a cute n easy way to do it !!!! what do you guys think ?? also if y'all like this idea comment below what you think the account should be called !!! I need help figuring out a name ✨🎊🐇😙💞

Hidden Rooms

So I’ve come up with two new story arch ideas and have thoughts on where to lead them next. Both are Jughead x Reader one’s but I don’t know which one you guys will like better. This is the more lighthearted one. Any feedback would be appreciated and I see this story going about 5 parts if it’s read enough. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it.

Jughead x Reader

Word Count: 2,586

Masterlist

Taglist: @sgarrett49


She was a mystery to me. I was trying to figure her out. Y/N Y/L/N had arrived to Riverdale only a few weeks before Jason Blossoms murder, and from what I could tell so far - she made an effort to stay hidden from almost everyone at the school. I didn’t see her at the mandatory “spirit” inclined pep rallies, lunch, or any sports event and she made a very clear attempt to be avoided in the hallways. Something I could relate to in that manner.

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9

THIS TOOK A LITERAL WEEK YOU GUYS BETTER LIKE IT.

ANYWAY. I made this for kikithedeceiver, since it is her birthday today <3 Just a fan comic adaption of her kanokido oneshot, Confession to the cat. Even if it took several hours to finish, it was super fun to work on this, and i’m pretty happy with the result~ I’m not an expert in comic making so everytime I try it is quite the experience. 

And now that i’m done with this i can go back to my usual posting in this blog and the kagepup’s ask blog. 

Enjoy!

StoryTime Mishaps (A Jack Avery Imagine)

*As Requested*

Feel free to request imagines, fics, gifsets etc. via my AskBox or DM’s.

Have a lovely day!

Word Count:1069

Description: In which Y/N is a popular Youtube creator, trying her best to film a video, and Jack is her boyfriend- trying his best to distract her.

 

    “Hello, you beautiful souls! How’s it going- I hope you’re all doing absolutely amazing, and I hope you’re smiling! My name is Y/N, and welcome to Y/N’s Life Online!” I waved my arms, smiling wide as I shifted to the other side of the bed I was sitting on, clearing my throat before speaking again, to cut together later in editing.

“Y/N, tell us, why is it called Y/N’s Life Online?” I inquired to myself aloud, before shifting to my original position on the bed to answer my own question. Sometimes, I swear, filming a Youtube video was one of the oddest things a human being could possibly do- but strangely also one of the best.

“Because this channel is my life online- unscripted, unrehearsed, un-simulated, unedited.” I then shifted to the center of the bed, where I would film the remainder of the video, adjusting the ring light and camera focus before continuing.

“Well, ok, maybe a little edited.” I smiled, winking to the camera before laughing at my own awkwardness, shaking my head. I cleared my throat again, taking a sip of water before continuing with the video.

“Jumping into today’s video, I know this genre of Youtube is so, so overdone- but I’ve sworn to be 100% honest with you all on this channel, so I thought today’s video would dabble in everyone’s favorite side of Youtube videos- STORYTIMES!” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Now, this storytime is 100% real, not overdramatized for comedic or dramatic effect, this was a completely real night that happened- the longest night of my life! And her to help retell the story with me, the guy who lived that fateful night with me- Jack Avery!” I cheered, laughing as Jack ran into my room from behind the door where he had been waiting, flinging himself onto my perfectly made bedspread as I laughed, rolling my eyes as I shoved him playfully. He ran a hair through his perfect hazel locks, and adjusting his red Adidas sweatshirt as he checked his appearance in the view finder. I giggled, laughing as he playfully stuck his tongue out at me. I rolled my eyes.

Keep reading

  • Ray: *shows up with two different folds of napkin* What do you guys like better - classic bishop hat fold or crown fold? Now, the crown is more showy, but the bishop hat has a certain dignity.
  • Leonard: I'll kill myself if it's not the crown fold.
  • Ray: Oh, okay. Thanks.
  • Leonard, after Ray leaves: Sometimes you have to pretend to care about napkins to stop hearing about napkins.