#my 10th grade teacher would be proud

[xatsperesso]

Really we need more fics/headcanons about Iruma's traumas. What his parents did to him is often showed as a joke but it's not.

The trauma of the Harvest Festival showed that he suffers of big abandonnement issues, that he fears to be alone again. He FEARS his parents and what their presence would mean.

His kindness/willingness to help every people who ask for it is a result of what they did to him, even if Iruma has naturally a very kind nature.

Of course he starts to change, but until recently he was not used that adults care for him and protect him. When he has asking to Kalego to save him against Atori was very new. It was literally the first time that he really asked to a adult to save him.

It probably mean that the teachers in the human world didn't pay attention at him. They didn't realize that he was abused and neglected, that he was more a slave for his parents that their child. No adults noticed that he was suffering. No adults asked question about "why a child works for me". No one CARED.

No wonder that he didn't trust adults/teachers before. It take one year for that he feel finally safe with his demons teachers, enough to scream "sensei" when he felt in danger. Or to feel enough comfortable to be alone with them/eats with them/feel asleep near of them (in the teacher dorm visit).

He get used to the friendship in this class but I think that it may be too soon for romantic love for him. He doesn't need it for now. He needs to feel loved. He needs to get first used to feel safe, loved by friends and family and all.

And finally Iruma and Food. It's turned as a joke but Iruma eats a lot. First he was saying "you'll never know when you'll be able to eat again" but in this world he has never lacked food, so he should eat less after some time. And if Azz and Clara needed to create the "snack police" it's that Iruma eats too much snacks in a day (he hides to eat his snacks sometimes).

He didn't gain weight so i guess that it's just for the laugh.

I really wonder if some teachers didn't have some "red flags" with Iruma, especially at the beginning. I think that Murmur would the best to speak with Iruma about his traumas but then Sulllivan would be forced to put him in the "secret gang" with Balam, Opera, Bachiko and himself.

Ya see, this is why fanfics hit differently. Why i read them

Because unlike the official manga in any series I've read so far, fanfic tackle the trauma

Past trauma, recent trauma. The fanfic author gives our characters space to breathe, to heal. Something the manga writers can't really do

Because they need to grab readers attention. While fanfic writers are just doing this for free. They're doing it for themselves, so they do whatever feels right to them without worrying about the readers getting bored (some do worry, and this is your daily reminder that those who read fanfics are already attached to the characters, so do whatev you want in your story. No matter what you'll find a lil' cult loving it)

Iruma went through a lot, and I dont think he's yet processed how fucked up his life has been until now.

His parents absence = never feeling safe. Never feeling loved

His parents manipulating him to work and earn money for them (not sure if it's manipulation but it's still awful)

As you said, all the adults not saying/noticing anything, so they cannot be trusted

All the near death scenarios he's went through

Him living in a forest. No roof over his head, food not guaranteed. Having to fend off predators and other animals off his food

And then when he went to the demon world it just kept getting worse

He almost blew off his limbs, and a teacher said to his face that they wanted to see it happen (I understand there's a difference between human and demon culture, but this was iruma's first week)

Almost falling to his death because a teacher pushed him (again, difference between humans/ demons so can't really be blamed)

Kirio, the first person to really show him the difference between humans and demons

Almost losing his first friend (making an assumption here) because of his own choices

The harvest festivals. I don't think one breakdown is enough for the shit that has happened in his past life

And then iruma almost getting kidnapped by atori. I refuse to believe he was able to sleep for a while. I heard the elevator in my apartment complex moving and got up to check the front door was locked. There’s no way he was able to just sleep after what happened in the heartbreaker.

A lot of shit happened since he came to the demon world

but his life in the demon world is way better than before.

Now he has guardians that truly care about him

Now he has friends that love him, and teachers that support him

And even if something happened. If somehow, in the very worst scenario possible, he'll still have Ali-san, his number one supporter (tied with sulli and azz)

There's more danger, his chances of dying is higher, the very maddening thought that once his secret comes out everyone will reject him is always there

But i still believe that his life in Babyls is better

At the very least, if something was to happen, he would have known what it feels like to be loved, if even for a moment

[weezerlvr228]

flippin boobahs!

[charliesangel67]

Against all odds

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Word count- 1567

Warnings: Smutttt, a little bit of fluff, acedemic rivals (kind of, idk how to write it)

Authors note: I'm actually so sorry this took so long, idek why but it was a bit hard to write. Anyway, it's here and I hope you enjoy.

This was based of off @weirdowithnobeardo 's idea which is the first comment on this post

“Ok, can somebody tell me the answer to question b?” Quickly, hands flew up in the air. “Mr Cameron, what is the answer?” “4x+7n=33y” Rafe said confidently. “”That’s wrong.” I announced. “Go on, what’s your theory Miss y/n?” My teacher said, “It’s 4x+7n=36y because x is equal to 2.” I stated. “That is correct y/n, well done.” My teacher smiled at me. I smiled in Rafe’s direction but he just glared at me. Next period science, we got our tests back, “So Cameron, what did you get?” I asked Rafe curiously. “94%, you?” “99%” I replied with a smile. Again, he seemed so angry at me for getting a higher score. This went on for the next couple of weeks, He acted like we were academic rivals.

3 weeks later

There it was, the test sitting on my desk, a bright red ‘A+’ written in the top right corner. I was proud of myself for scoring so high on such a hard test. It was 40% of my final GPA result so I had to score high. I turned around to see Rafe staring daggers at me. “Bad result Cameron?” I asked him teasingly. “Shut up y/l/n” He growled as he clenched his jaw. I giggled to myself and turned my attention back to the teacher. 

The bell rang for the end of the day and I hurriedly grabbed my backpack and ran to my locker. My friend Maddy always meets me at my locker because we’re in different year levels, Maddy’s in 10th and I’m in 11th grade. “So, how was your day Mads?” I asked unlocking my locker. “Shit. So fucking shit you have no idea.” “I’m sure it couldn't have been that bad.” I laughed. “No, y/n it was bad. So bad in fact that I got broken up with by Jason the son of a bitch in front of half the cafeteria.” She announced. “Oh shit, sorry babe, he was no good for you anyway.” I said walking away with her. 

As we were walking to my car, Maddy realised she had forgotten something in her locker so she ran back towards the buildings. Suddenly, I felt a rough hand grab hold of my upper arm and pin me against a wall. A hand covered my mouth to stop me from screaming. “Oh you son of a bitch. You’re so fucking done little girl.” I knew the voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite figure out who it was. When my eyes finally adjusted to the light and situation, I realised it was Jason and his group of friends. 

“So, did you and Maddy talk shit about me to the school after what I did to her?” He asked again, still keeping me against the wall. “What the fuck. No we didn’t, why would you think that?” I was astonished at the accusation. “Because, now the whole school thinks that I have an STD and all the girls I’ve slept with have smashed my locker and put slime in the gas tank of my car.” He complained. “Wow, creative girls for real.” I said with a little laugh. “Ok, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” 

“It was me, you son of a bitch!” Yelled Rafe, walking towards us. “Why?! Why the fuck would you do that?” Jason asked, close to tears. Rafe pulls a phone out of his pocket and starts reading some texts - 

“‘C’mon Maddy, It won’t be that bad. Why don’t you wanna sleep with me?”

“Because I’m not ready for that Jason, I’ve told you a million times. We have only been together a month and I’m not ready to have sex yet. Just stop asking me already.”

“Fine. Go fuck some other dude, you fucking slut. You’ll regret not being with me.” “What do you mean Jason? Are you breaking up with me??”” 

“Hey! Where did you get my phone from you bitch?!” Jason asked launching himself at Rafe, who dodged the blow perfectly. “You left her on delivered for 9 hours just so you could slut shame her and break up with her in the cafeteria in front of everyone, all because she didn’t want to sleep with you?!  Not to mention you cheated on her the entire relationship. You’re a real ass man.” Rafe said. “I suggest you leave Maddy, Y/n and all the other girls you’ve messed with, alone and get on with your life.” Rafe yelled as Jason and his friends ran away.

They knew how powerful Rafe could be and they didn’t want to get on his bad side. “Thanks Rafe. Why did you do that anyway?” I asked, “Don’t think I did it for you, I hate Jason.” “Oh, okay.” I replied sheepishly before walking away, back to my car and to meet with Maddy. The drive home was silent after I told Maddy all about what happened. Her being in disbelief about what Rafe had done to Jason. 

A couple weeks later, it was Midsummers, I had bought a nice dress and had a plan laid out on how we were going to spend the evening with Maddy and her sister, Kiara. Kiara picked us up and we drove to the Cameron’s mansion as that was where the party was. Kiara was friends with Sarah, Rafes younger sister.

A couple hours into the party,  Rafe approached me, taking my hand and dragging me upstairs. “Rafe, what are you doing?” I whispered, “Taking you to my room.” “Why?” I asked, a little scared. “Because you look way too beautiful in that dress and I noticed JJ basically eye fucking you.” He turned to face me, looking very sexy in his button down shirt and his hair falling into his eyes. Without thinking I put my hand out to brush his hair away from his face, he grabbed my neck and leaned down to kiss me. 

“No, Rafe, we can’t do this.” I said as I pulled away. “Why not y/n?” “Because, I’m a pogue, you're a kook and you should hate me. In fact, you did act like you hated me after you stood up for me in front of Jason, and now suddenly you’re acting all jealous when JJ looks at me?” I asked in a confronting manner. “Look, y/n, I like you.” “No, we can’t Rafe. Your dad is gonna kill you and my parents are gonna fucking disown me or something if they found out I was dating a kook, especially Mr Rafe Cameron with his bad reputation.” 

Rafe didn’t say another word, he just leaned down again to kiss me, This time it was more passionate. At that moment, I didn’t even care that we shouldn’t be doing this, I just kissed him back. Rafe picked me up and carried me to his room. He threw me on the bed and locked the door. He crawled on top of me and placed feather light kisses along my neck to my cleavage. “Can I?” he asked as his fingers were tangled in the strap off my dress. “Mmmh,” I responded softly as he carefully took off my dress. 

I tugged at his belt, hinting for him to take off his pants as I unbuttoned his shirt. Within minutes, we were both butt naked, he took my boobs in his hands, massaging them and kissing along them. I moaned at the pleasure. I palmed his cock through his boxers and I felt him getting hard underneath my hand. Quickly, Rafe ripped off his boxers and rubbed his cock against my entrance. Already slick and wet, he pushed inside. I moaned as he did so, Rafe thrusted slowly and sensually.

“Mmh, You like that baby?” He asked, staring into my eyes. “So much Rafe.” I replied. Rolling my eyes back as Rafe thrusted harder into my soaking cunt and he kissed along my breasts. Soon, I was nearing my release, my cunt tightening around him. And a couple thrusts later I had come undone onto his thick cock. “Fuck baby, I'm gonna come.” “Come in me Rafe.” I begged him and seconds later he squirted his hot cum into my pussy. Out of breath and panting, I crawled on top of him, lying on his chest, my hands tangled in his hair as he kissed my neck. “Promise we can keep this a secret for a little while longer until I tell my parents?” I asked him. Rafe nodded and uttered a soft ‘yes’. I kissed him one more time before getting up and getting dressed. 

“I’m gonna head back down stairs okay? The girls are gonna be worried about where I was.” I told him, opening the door. “One more kiss babe.” Rafe said and when I turned around, seeing his abs again stirred something deep within me. Want. I wanted this man. His hair, his face, his body, his personality towards me. I wanted everything about him. I didn’t think, I just jumped back onto the bed into his arms. Rafe kissed me hard and passionate and I melted into his touch. Soon we were back at it again, he was thrusting slowly and sensually into my soaked cunt as I buried my face in his shoulder quieting my moans.

That night was the best sex I ever had. 

I also got a super protective boyfriend.

I hope you guys liked this 😁

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hey Cas! I'm sorry just need to rant so day's been pretty shit my marks are vv bad.....but expected tbh like I told u these exams are vvvvv hard I got 71/100 in eng lit 70/100 in geog 80/100 in phy I've been depressed since after skl and skl was omg so fucking bad C wont even talk to me My seatmate R was a great help I had 3 panic attacks today and she kinda helped me through them But now at home it's just total shit After I came from tuition (sort of like tutoring for certain subjects) I was literally in the car with mom on our way home and both my mom and tuition teacher were criticizing abt me and I was already crying before then They tell me that I'm too helpful or that I panic and that is no reason IFK THAT IT IS NO REASON......NO NEED TO POINT IT OUT!!!!!!!!! And skl is off tomorrow so I will be even more depressed at home My dad's gonna kill me idk if i'll get my pc now and I just honestly want to die cuz this shit is maddening On top off that my skl teachers embarrassed me My English teacher told me that she expected more from me My Hindi teacher called me in front of the whole class and asked me why I used a red pen for heading Bitch was colorblind it was fucking pink and I couldn't point that out to her cuz she'll be more bitchy And everyone tells me that I hv boards (sort of like GCSE's) in 10th so considering my status i'll probably fail They tell me it's useless to cry...and I'm just making a big deal (idk how that came up) basically I'm crying to show that I realize my mistakes but I dont reallly realize it.... LIKE BITCH I WOULD CRY FOR SHOW DO YOU FUCKING THINK I WANT EVRY1 TO KNOW I'M DEPRESSED!?!?! My class thinks I'm some dumb kid and honestly idk wht they think(glad idk) Idek anymore..... Like the pain is so bad I cant express it and I feel numb just literally no emotions rn except depression(edited) tx for listening <33

Hi!

Okay so I don't know the grading system where you live but isn't a 70 and 71 still a passing grade? Passing is still something to be proud of. These adults sound awful, like...how are you supposed to feel like you're able to succeed when all they do is make you feel stupid?

Please try to take deep breaths and be kind to yourself. I am so proud of you and I know how hard it can be. These grades are nothing to be ashamed of <3

[im-minorly-stuck]

“i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere” - Taylor Swift, this is me trying

This lyric has and will always have a special place in my heart. I fell in love with it from the moment i listened to this is me trying for the very first time, though I wouldn’t fully understand its true meaning until years later. It resonated with me in such a deep manner from the very beginning and, whether i related it to getting a C+ on my 10th grade trigonometry math quiz or to being on the edge of dropping out of high school during my senior year, it has accompanied me throughout all the times where i simply couldn’t get on top of it.

Looking back at it, it’s funny to think how much my perspective of things has changed since this song entered my life, believe it or not, the first time i found myself relating to this lyric was during a period of time where I was at, as much as i hate to call it this, my peak (academically at least). I was 15 and coursing the second year of my IGCSE’s, I was working hard, had an obnoxious amount of academic motivation (thank you Rory Gilmore), and was overall everything you needed to be to get called a “model student” on your report card. Growing up with untreated Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, this period of time was the most validated i had ever been in my life. My parents were proud, my teachers were happy, people were asking me for help in school— I was everything i always aspired to be. So yeah, when i got that C+ on a math quiz, my world crumbled down. Looking back at it, that was the smallest of problems in the whole world, i ended up getting one of the 5 best scores on the IGCSEs out of the 100 students in my class. Man, at the time i was being told if i kept it up i would end up at Harvard.

Sorry for the yapping, i promise, there’s a point im going to make. So, why do i say i wouldn’t learn the true meaning of these lyrics until years later— if you had told 15 year old me i would be where i am right now, you would probably get slapped in the face. “i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere” I entered my senior year of high school being told i was an ��Academic Weapon” and when this label was suddenly ripped off from me, it was like i had no purpose anymore. When a ton of small things and situations (that i wont mention not because they weren’t significant but because they don’t deserve to be dwelled on) collided, i hit rock bottom. Everything that was once so important to me did not matter anymore. I went from being the top student to missing school once or twice a week, as much as i tried to get back on track i couldn’t, and the buildup of this constant disappointment and frustration resulted in the worst possible situation a student like me could end up in— not caring. I went from straight A’s to not being able to get out of bed in the mornings.

“fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here”. Fast forward to today: as im writing this, im sitting on my bed (not the uncomfortable, twin-sized dorm bed that, ironically, I long for over my memory-foam queen bed at home) trying to find something to do with my life. I graduated high school in June, something that during the first months of this year i didn’t think was possible. I didn’t drop out, and i finished the IB diploma with a somewhat decent score (nowhere near the score in the 40s that i was sure i would achieve before everything went down but not horrible either), i did things that right now seem like the bare minimum but in January they weren’t even a possibility for me. But now, here I am at home because, in the end, I decided to take a gap year—not really my decision, but rather something i was forced to do in order to recover from the chaos that was last year. I wouldn’t be sitting at home right now if college applications didn’t turn into a fiasco, to say the least. I started the year as motivated as one could be, but when the time came to finally apply, my state of mind ruined everything i had prepared for in the past years. I didn’t do my college research at all, I only applied to those schools whose name has been glorified in the media— NYU, Yale, UChicago to name a few. Realistically, i had no chance at being admitted, but i guess i wanted to hold onto that superiority complex of being the very best. My essays were an awful combination of bland ideas and ChatGPT— I just know the admissions officers laughed when they read “In the complex tapestry that is” as the opening sentence of my common app essay. So, obviously, there came rejection after rejection. I was accepted to one school in Canada, a school that i hate and had no plans to attend.

So here I am, reminiscing on everything i could’ve done better so that i wouldn’t be stuck at home, playing dress to impress religiously and bed rotting all day instead of being at college doing what i love. I haven’t come to peace with me taking this year off, cause frankly, i love learning, and being at home with nothing to do has me spiraling. The hardest part is seeing everyone being where i want to be, while i’m stuck, trying to figure out anything that would make this year not be a complete waste of my time.

This is definitely not where i thought i would be right now, and i can’t help but feel angry at my past self for not caring enough to do something about it. I’m still working on coming to terms with the fact that im here and there’s nothing i can do to change it.

i was so ahead of the curve, i was everything i wanted to be, and being a high achiever academically was my whole sense of identity. But then, when life was not being great to me, the curve became a sphere, and suddenly i was trying to live up to what i once was, i was behind after being at the very top. I fell behind all my classmates, i missed more than 20% of the school year, i wasn’t keeping up with what a senior in high school is supposed to. So, i ended up here, not enrolled at a university, not knowing what i’m doing and trying to find something to feel useful.

Even though this isn’t where I expected to be, I’m learning to make the most of it. I’ve started working through college applications again, but this time with a clearer sense of direction. I found an online course in neuroscience—something I love—which has helped me feel like I’m not wasting time. It’s also made me realize that my true passion lies in medicine, not just research. So, while this gap year wasn’t part of the original plan, I’m trying to use it to regroup and grow. I might not have control over the past, but I’m determined to shape what comes next.

Thank you for listening to my yapping (that probably reads as a cry for help), i don’t know what this blog will turn into, right now im just trying to reflect and find peace in my journey. Thank you for being here to listen to my chaotic thoughts— talk soon <3

[187days]

Day Thirty

Today was a perfect autumn day here in New England, and a pretty perfect teaching day, too.

The morning was great. The debate club, which I agreed to advise, met during flex time to have its first debate (regarding our school's planned cell phone policy). It wasn't flawless- first time debate and all- but it was a lot of fun, and they'll be better next time. They've got a handful of topics they want to debate, so I sent out a ballot via Google form to pick the next one. I'll go with whatever the majority decides, the club president- a very organized sophomore- will assign teams, and they'll have a few weeks to prepare!

After flex, it was time for Global Studies. Students continued drafting culture projects, I proofread them and offered feedback as they were submitted (rough drafts were due by the end of class), and otherwise just monitored their progress.

I have one student who's been challenging (work avoidant and fond of taking other students' things), and I've rung every alarm there is to ring about it, but today was actually decent. We got into a conversation about art and graphics, which didn't get him any closer to getting his work done, but did a lot for opinion of me- and, as a result, for his behavior for the remainder of class.

So that's something.

And then, during APGOV, there was a congressman in my classroom.

Longtime readers know that, while this would be an uncommon occurrence in most high schools, it's a yearly one in mine. And it's really cool that he came the day after his opponent because students were able to compare and contrast them well. Their conversation today went from questions about what life in Congress is like to questions about a range of issues: inflation, minimum wage, homelessness, the opioid crisis, abortion, education, US foreign policy, veterans affairs... I was proud of them, too, for (politely) pushing for more detailed answers if they felt they weren't getting them. That shows they're getting more confident in having conversations with our guests.

So that was awesome.

I got to chatter away about it at today's faculty meeting. Then I helped Ms. B and Mr. X get ready for state testing next week (9h and 10th grade teachers have to proctor), talked to Mr. B about some union stuff, went back to my room to proofread the remainder of my Global Studies students' culture project drafts, and headed out just after 5:00.

Was it still a perfect autumn day at that point? Sure was!

[nerdfins]

Reading about experiences with terrible teachers on Reddit brought up a memory.

To no one's surprise, I was the artsy kid in school. My backpack always had a sketchbook and a pencil pouch with my supplies, and the margins of my notebooks were covered in doodles. I even got in trouble for drawing on the paper bag book covers. In my high school we had multiple art classes. 9th grade was basic art, 10th was drawing, 11th was painting, and 12th we had AP Art, with the option of electives in all grades. This happened in my 10th grade drawing class.

We were learning how to use colored pencils, and my mom gifted me a set of Prismacolors. She was the one who I got my love of art from and encouraged me to draw anything. Like many teens, I was into doing fan art. Kingdom Hearts had come out and I was playing it every night after school. To practice my new colored pencil skills, I used the player's guide art to do a picture of Donald Duck. This one, specifically:

Using my class sketchbook, which my teacher wanted us to draw in it every night, I worked for hours on the shading and coloring, being meticulous with the blending to get it right. When I finished, I was so proud. The next day I brought the drawing in to show my teacher, hoping to hear what looked good and where I could improve.

Instead, I received a lecture. A lecture about how no art school would accept this drawing as an example of my skills. Not because it looked bad, but because it was unoriginal and fan art. She claimed to have seen sketchbooks thrown across the room over stuff like this. I was told to stop doing fan art and to focus only on original things. That I was wasting my time otherwise.

That crushed me. I was, and still am sometimes, a people pleaser. To hear that I had disappointed someone in a position of authority of a hobby I enjoyed hurt. I don't remember doing much fan art for a bit after that. I did return to it, but no longer showed my fan work to that teacher. This was in the 00's during peak cringe phase in fandom, which made the feeling I did something wrong even worse.

It's been 23 years and I haven't forgotten the humiliation.

[sweet-symphony0]

1, 4, 10, and 15 for any of your fics you want to talk about!

1. What is a piece of symbolism in your fic?

Oh, this is a good one! I had to go back and reread all my fics to find something but-

In Dance Me to the End of Love, it’s definitely Joe’s ballet shoes. He keeps them with him even after he quits, he brings them everywhere he goes, because to him, it’s a (physical) symbol of something he lost, but something he’s also loved and desperately clinging onto in the hopes that he can get back to. And while he doesn’t ever throw those shoes out, or ever wear them again, they’re a keepsake of his old life, a reminder of what was, and what could have been.

4. What's something you've researched but haven't incorporated into your fic?

So much for Legacy, I can’t even list it all, though most of it was incorporated. The research I did for that story pales in comparison to anything I’d done prior.

-I researched directors and what films they’d done before, because I wanted to make sure the (real) director I chose in the end would be good for a teacher biopic, even though I ultimately went with Sam Esmail, selfishly.

-I looked at the studios and their execs, to make sure I had the names and job positions right.

-I already knew how to make a budget, so everything in chapter three and four is fairly accurate, but researched what the process would be once the budget was made and how films get made and funded.

-I looked at Hamlet again since the first time in over a decade, to make sure I knew it well enough to explain Rami being able to teach it; I looked at which monologues I wanted and what I felt would be the one to include in the end. For him to teach it, I had to teach it myself, and I looked at curriculum for 10th and 11th grade AP English courses.

-The Belasco theatre is a real theatre in LA, and it’s where the wrap party for Raising Ambition is held. I can’t tell you how many tabs I had open to research venues, how big the capacity was for each place, and if they allowed kids (this story is fictional, I know).

10. What is your favourite au? Have you written anything for it?

It’s the same as the one I listed above: I would say my dance AU, where Joe is a professional ballet dancer to leave it behind to go into acting, really is one of my favorites. I’ll never finish that fic, but damn is it good, and boy am I proud of it. You can find that here.

15. Tell us a fun fact about your fic/wip!

I’ve talked about this before, but in all my twin Tuesday fics, at some point in the story, those twins share a moment where one of them squeezes the other’s wrist, in a silent gesture of affection. It’s an “I got you,” gesture, and I love writing it in and seeing if anyone picks up on it.

Similarly, in all my mazlek fics, the first article of clothing Joe almost always removes from what Rami is wearing, is his bow tie. That one isn’t planned, but I love the image of it every time, it’s very sexy and sensual and intimate.

Lastly- I wrote Home is with You, because I had awful, awful period cramps one time, and decided my way of dealing with it was Joe being miserable with nearly the same agony, and had Rami come to his rescue 😂

———

Sorry this is so long, but this was a treat! Thank you for asking!!

[himbeereule]

(non-project related)

Story time!

Absolutely wildest thing to happen to me in all my school days (no trauma this time):

This was in 8th or 9th grade. We had sports lessons and the teacher didn't show up for a long time, so the boys decided to host an impromptu boxing tournament.

One of them had completely embraced the powers of ADHD and was absolutely slaughtering his opponents by virtue of being thrice as fast as them. It seemed as if he would be winning the tournament...

Well, and then my autism flared up and went "big spectacle, must participate", so I insisted on fighting against him. After a bit of discussion, they actually let me.

The guy didn't show any mercy or restraint and began directly pummeling my face, which hurt. A lot.

I took off my glasses, we assumed positions, and... I noticed I can't really see anything without glasses.

This realization directly caused a shutdown, and I was just standing there with my arms hanging down my sides when the match began.

But I knew I didn't stand any chance of defending myself, I was slower, weaker and couldn't see anything (and having my head relentlessly beaten didn't help either), so I did the next best thing - I took him by surprise.

I hadn't resisted at all up to this point, so he didn't expect me to be anything more than a punching bag, until I took a wiiiiide swing and, with all the force I could muster, landed a perfect hit against the side of his head. Which sent him directly to the floor.

He did get up pretty much right away though, and then the other guys got concerned and stopped the match because my nose was bleeding a lot at this point, but the match ended up being voted a draw, though there were also a lot of people who spoke in favour of it being my win.

Really surreal memory, but one I'm proud of.

(You, too, can achieve absurd pain tolerance by brainwashing yourself into deriving your entire self-worth from enduring suffering!)

(btw, in 10th grade that same guy, within three days of our classes graduation trip, 1. randomly tackled me to the ground and began strangling me and 2. poisoned me when I was taking a nap in an evidently unsecured place)

(I have no idea what it is with me and people wanting to strangle me btw, it's really weird.

In another school, grade 5-7, I had two boy friends (not boyfriends obviously) who would always play-fight after school (we were in all-day care together), and whenever I joined in (I'm extremely touch-averse, but fighting has for some reason always been the only form of touch that felt safe for me), they would only punch each other, but never me - I got strangled instead)

[gendzl]

I laugh whenever I underline the opening sentence of an essay. like, yeah! you did it! you broke it down to its bare essentials! my 10th grade english teacher would be soooo proud of you right now!

[quagarl]

I would like this to be a formal introduction to me, as proof i don't just repost femboy memes all day. My name is Quincy, and I'm 21, Enby, I love baking, and I call myself a writer. I'm not a published writer, and that is a fact that I am incredibly proud of. That's not to say that being a publish author isn't something to flaunt at the Thanksgiving dinner when your parents are wondering what you did with your life and where they went wrong, and uncle Marco is wondering out loud why you're not a conservative like him (and let's be real if your smart you're not going to answer him because that's its own entire can of clams).

I am proud of not having authored a book because *oh my dear* I have wanted to write a book since I was in fourth grade. I can guarantee that I was *awful* in fourth grade.

I was one of those kids who *got* english. I read at a 12th grade reading level at like 10. I understood most of Washingtons inaugural speech by 7th grade.

What I didn't know was what theme was, or what subtext meant, and how important it was to make your dialogue an argument or how to write a metaphor. Setting and pacing and (unfortunately) punctuation were all a little bit out of my scope, and I am still learning the full range of use that they can have.

Does this mean I don't want to be an author because I'm afraid I might know how to write a story better later in life? *A little I guess yeah* but also no! That doesn't stop me from writing like it's going to publish, but the reason I know I can write a publishable book is one very simple lesson I learned in 10th grade thanks to my English teacher. Yaddaw I know you're fruity as hell and you're probably here, if by some miracle you see this, thank you for the five minute free writes. (A fantastic writing exercise that teaches flexibility and creativity btw)

Dont write a book, write a story. Don't publish anything, but write a novel.

It's simple. If you write *solely* to publish the next GoT or acotar or whatever, you're going to write something super forgettable, and you're going to regret it later in life when you finally do publish your art. If you write solely to tell a story, you're going to miss out on super important aspects of the concept of a full story. You need to have balance.

###this is where my advice comes in###

Write three full complete stories when you write one.

Write the surface stuff. Bad guy rides dragon, rides into our heroes village, she finds a dragon and fights the bad guy at the end, and she wins.

Write something genuine -- that really hits home in the uncomfortable parts. I'll go first(hint: this is the most important part): I hate a lot of myself. I hate my torso, I hate my hair, and I view my procrastination as my greatess weakness. I cannot think when I write solely about my work. It drives me to become upset and ultimately abandon my drive to write a story I love.

Then, combine the two. I like the initial idea of a dragon and a village, but let's play with that villain. A hero rides into town one day, ready to save it from a dragon attack. Don't ask why he knows ones coming, because I don't have an answer yet. On his way into town he sees the common signs for a Dragons hunting grounds: dead sheep in their pastures, ruined trees, the outcasts of town have an unusual fear of fire and speak of monolithic beasts plaguing their dreams. Great gouges, twenty years old and scarred in the earth, clue our hero into the idea that these lands have long been the hunting grounds for his wyrm. There is no dragon to save the village from, however, as he comes to realize days after staying in town. The villagers tell him the dragon is real, the evidence supports its existence, yet it is not here and will not present itself to him. Angry that he cannot fulfill his purpose, he leaves and abandons his quest, and commits the village to it's fate. Later that week, the dragon comes, burns the village to the ground. The hero hears of this and returns to the village. The hero returns and, upon finding the ashen remains, swears to himself that he will hunt this beast, and that it must cost him his life. He takes from the village a piece of timber that survived, and the bucket from the well. Our first few chapters are done, and the stage is set for the rest of the story.

There's a bunch here for us to play with, and a bunch of subtext we can include. For me, this could represent procrastination, how our hero leaves and condemns the village to doom despite it's evidence, only seeing the immediate before them. It could represent something more sinister, where the hero wants to have his story as one to be remembered -- the man who avenged the tragedy of [village]. The bucket can represent a number of things, like a metaphor for him dousing the flames with the water of the village. It could be the idea of nourishment, or a vessel for the souls of those lost in the calamity. I've combined our heroine and our villain to make a neutral character, who both is directly responsible for the death of the village and it's revenge, but that raises questions too, like are they responsible at all, and will the death of the dragon absolve them of their crime? This my dears, is nuance, which forms the spine of any story more mature than defining good and evil, and our storys subtext, for me, is the question not only of blame, of responsibility and justice, but also of personal flaws like procrastination, and of the fear of the end of ones story.

Anyways, eat your vegetables, don't feel bad about not being published at 20 or 30 or 40 or 50, and make sure to write your Great Metaphor. Otherwise, it's like to be something you have not shown justice to.

[the-feminist-filipino-fangirl]

Art Quiz

An April O’Neil fic

Author’s Note:*kicks down door* I COME BEARING MORE AIRPLANE FANFIC!!! This fic is HEAVILY based off my own experiences in my 9th grade art class where I would burst into giggles every time the names Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael were mentioned. My teacher even decided to play “Name the Artist” using “3 pics, One word” and PRESENTED PICTURES OF MY BLORBOS ON SCREEN IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS!!! So yeah, I’m putting April through that same torture because I’m projecting. Anyways, enjoy!!!

April

April O’Neil plopped down at her desk just as the school bell rang, it’s annoying music echoing throughout Idkwhattonamethis High School. She blew her puffy bangs out of her eyes as she rested her chin on her hand, ignoring the chatter of her classmates.

That’s when Ms. Deguinio burst through the door, her copious amounts of necklaces and bracelets jangling with every move. April immediately brightened when she entered, sitting up straighter at her desk.

As far as high school art teachers went, Ms. Deguinio was by far the coolest. With her colorful head scarves, even more colorful jewelry, and her usual combo of a leather jacket with jeans, she was a sight to behold. And on top of that, she was always super casual and nice to the students. Combine all of that into a pot and stir, and you get the love and approval of the entire 10th grade.

April in particular really loved her. Ms. Deguinio was a weirdo, just like her, and boy was she proud of it. She was not afraid to flaunt her weird side in front of her students and that made April look up to her. Though her teacher probably wasn’t friends with 4 humanoid turtles and their talking rat father.

“Good morning class,” she said in a casual yet sincere way. “So,” she clapped. “We’re moving onto a new topic today: the art of the Renaissance. But before we start learning anything, I’m going to need you guys to take a pre test.” She held up a stack of quiz papers and the entire class groaned.

“Come on, you guys know why I have to do this,” Ms. Deguinio said, leaning against the teacher’s table. “This is so I know what parts of the lesson I need to spend more time on. But don’t worry, this test isn’t graded.” The class cheered at that. Another item added to April O’Neil’s list for why Ms. Deguinio deserves a raise.

With that, her teacher started handing out the test papers. April fetched her her pen, which was the same bright pink as her glasses and not the one Donnie had rigged with tranquilizer darts. She seriously needed to keep all her belongings away from the crazy purple turtle she called her best friend.

The test paper landed on her table. “You have 15 minutes to answer this,” Ms. Deguinio declared. “Time starts now.” April wrote her name and began answering.

The first few questions were relatively easy. It was mostly stuff about the historical significance of the Renaissance, nothing they hadn’t learned in their history classes. She answered questions about the word Renaissance meaning rebirth, how it was a revival of the Classical Era, and what centuries it took place in. Then she got to question number 4.

4. Who was considered the master of Renaissance sculpture?

a. Leonardo da Vinci

b. Donatello

c. Michelangelo

d. Raphael

She didn’t mean to laugh, she really didn’t, but seeing the names of all four of her turtle friends on a school mandated test was so unexpected that she started giggling. It didn’t get any better when she face planted onto the test paper, her whole body shaking with silent laughter.

“Is there a problem April?”

April shot up in her seat to find Ms. Deguinio leaning over her. Whoops.

“I’m fine!” she blurted out, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Sorry, I just…” She pointed at the question. “These are my friend’s names and I found it funny cause I didn’t expect it.”

Ms. Deguinio looked down at her test paper to where she was pointing. “You’re friend’s names are Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael?”

“They’re brothers.”

“Hm, makes sense.”

Ms. Deguinio straightened up. “Finish answering your test. And please try not to make any more loud noises.”

“Yes ma’am,” April said with a salute.

Her teacher walked away, shooting her a smile. As soon as she moved on, April circled the letter b and continued answering the test.

Later that day:

The entrance to Donnie’s lab burst open, giving the young genius a mini heart attack. He grunted in frustration, spinning his wheelie chair around.

“LEO!!! What have I told you about-” Donnie stopped short. “Oh, hey April,” he said upon seeing his best friend/older sister figure standing in the doorway and not his annoying twin.

“Something funny happened at school today.”

“SPILL THE TEA!!!”

The End

[mishkatelwarriorgoddess]

The school system that I am currently in, for 22 years, no longer allows us to "gift" days.

I worked with teachers who, in their entire 25-30+ year career took MAYBE 1 day a year. All of our sick days roll over into the next school year. So there are teachers with 250-300+ days that will lose 1/2 of them when they retire!

We do have a sick leave bank that anyone that is in puts in 2 days each year and if we need to be out more than 30 consecutive work days we can use the bank. BUT only after we have used up all of our available leave. This is generally how our teachers who are fighting illnesses like cancer and such do it without too many issues.

I would LOVE for there to be a combined AFT-NEA union that was in EVERY state. What some people don't understand is that some states don't have unions and they're Right to Work states. Teachers/Staff are at the whim of either the hiring boards or the principals for some systems, and if you stand up for your civil rights you could find yourself out of a job.

My heart hurts for all the teachers in these states, and those who are in states with no strike laws too. Collective bargaining is a good thing, but without being able to have a strike there is no bite behind the bark of the dog.

And don't come for me about I don't know what it's like to not work because of a strike. My FIRST YEAR of teaching, we all started to get all of our personal items from our rooms 2 weeks before the deadline to strike. In the state I was in I only paid 1/2 dues to the union, which also meant that if there had been a strike I would not have been eligible for pay from the union because I wasn't a full dues paying member but worked like any other teacher. And I crossed picket lines so that I could feed my daughter and I. I'm not proud of it, but it was what I had to do to keep us going at the time and I only did it for a week before I couldn't anymore.

The bottom line is we need to treat our teachers better. There are other countries who do so much better with the way they treat their teachers. And I don't care if your experience wasn't the best. I am truly sorry about that, because I know there are bad teachers out there; but that doesn't mean that those of us who are still in the profession or entering the profession now need to bear the brunt of your angst from when you were in 10th grade English reading McBeth and hating Lady McBeth's decent into madness.

Help us do right by our families!

[pergerinerabbit]

ykno i was thinking this morning about how poppy playtime is mostly about needless gore and child trafficking and how so many kids and teens are into it and it made me remember

when i was in highschool, like, latter half of 10th grade, so 15-17 ish, my teacher had us all write poems to start off this poetry unit that he was MEGA jazzed about and I wrote this really really baller poem about how good horror/gore can be really comforting to some!! (and quoted fine shrine, though half of it,) and i was REALLY proud of it!! and he wanted all the poems to be anonymous! so he read them, out loud, to the class, one by one. and he asked once at the beginning, he was like "Hey! does anyone just *not* wanna have their poem read aloud? its okay! maybe its personal! maybe you just dont want to share! and thats okay!" and i certainly did not raise my hand. No sir. I was PROUD of that poem!! and I wanted it to be shared!! and hes going through them, and he's reading them aloud, and im counting the papers (because i know how many kids are in my class and i am Very Excited for mine to be read out loud so I can gauge reaction) and before he even puts mine on the projector, he asks, again, "is everyone *completely and totally sure* they want their poem read *out loud to their peers*?" and i do not raise my hand. why the fuck would i?? do not tell me theyre going to be read if i wasnt prepared to share with the class!! So he reads it! and the whole class just sits in silence. I did not, at the time know what to make of this. I partially blame the fact I am Autistic.

Suddenly, he was very NOT jazzed about doing a poetry unit. And replaced it with reading Of Mice And Men. I did not understand why he was suddenly not Jazzed. until I was contemplating it this morning. I fear I *may* have frightened the everloving shit out of him and my classmates.

Checares, if youre reading this, 10 years post-fact, good art comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable, you are the weakest link.

[nashikingdom]

My School's 100th Anniversary

On Sunday October 10th, my school turned 100. From the minute I had stepped inside on my first day, the 5th, I had been bombarded with flyers and brochures and pamphlets and all that kind of stuff, all announcing the events of the day. I didn’t understand a single word, but the list seemed pretty long. Great! A cool day of celebration right as I arrive! Great opportunity to get to know the staff and students.  

I was kind of bummed to already have to come into work on my first weekend in town, but I figured it was going to be fun. My supervisor warned me to wear my nice black suit, as there would be a short official ceremony. “Cool”, I thought, “I get to show them I clean up well and that I take tradition seriously”. I’m also told it’ll be a full day, so on Sunday I show up, full suited up, at 8am. Turns out, students have simple homeroom until noon. Seems kind of boring, but sure. I’ll stay at my desk and keep it warm until the festivities begin. Finally, 1pm, time to go the gym for the official ceremony, which will surely kick off the festivities.  The gym is full of chairs carefully aligned and organized to separate the students into grades, with teachers off to the side. We sit down, and nobody seems excited. Weird. We are handed the ceremony’s program, and even though I still don’t understand a single word, I understand this : 1pm – 4pm.  

Ah yes, a short ceremony by Japanese standards. I start sweating. I’m not nervous, but the gym is already an oven, with no windows and about 200 people in full suits. I lean over to my closest colleague, who’s not an English speaker, and try to ask her what’s on the program by repeatedly pointing and going "Nani desu ka?". I don’t get much of her answer, except for speech…speech… speech. Ok, so speeches. Nothing else, apparently.  

The first event on the program was a ceremony over Zoom (yes, I too thought I was finished with Zoom) that was held at our town’s cultural center, a mere kilometer away. After the usual 10 minutes of technical issues and the Japanese equivalent of “I think you’re muted”, we were treated to around 1h30 of speeches, all very monotone and serious, with deep bows and polite clapping between each one. Every time, there was an awkward half-clap going on in the gym… Do you clap for someone who can’t see nor hear you? After a short break, the “real fun” began, according to my supervisor. See, in 1988, a young Japanese man named Suzuki Daichi won a gold medal for swimming at the Seoul Olympics.  

Ah, that’s cool, an alumni went to the Olympics and won!  

No! Actually, Mr Suzuki didn’t attend my school, but a neighboring one who, unlike us, didn’t have a pool. So their swim team used ours. Anyway, because of this, my school has always been very proud of being the kinda-home of an Olympian. And today, Mr Suzuki was coming to deliver the a speech, which would last 1h30 (impressive, might I say). They showed a short documentary about his Olympic performance, and I, along with probably every girl in the gym, perked up at the footage of wet beefy 80s athletes in speedos. I’m glad to report Mr Suzuki is as handsome as he was in his youth.  

Again, I didn’t understand much from his lengthy speech, only that it had to do with sports and how they can make life better and how Japanese youth need to be more active. The students didn’t seem all that excited for the last 45 minutes, which was mostly graphs and motivational quotes. I did notice members of the baseball team screamed at some point, so maybe something was said about their sport?  

Anyway, that concluded my school’s 100th anniversary celebration. We got a gigantic, beautiful bouquet of flowers that’s displayed in the hall, but otherwise, nothing much came of it. I’m at least glad that everyone else had a terrible time, even while understanding what was being said. I don’t know which situation is worst. At least I got to zone out.  

[toomanysurveys9]

Do you want the last dream you had to come true? Probably not. I’ve been having some fucked up dreams lately.

When did you last talk to the person you’d most wanna talk to right now? I don’t know that there is anybody anymore. I’m basically just chilling with my kids these days.

What kind of pill did you last take? Either Tylenol or Ibuprofen.

Do you like wearing glasses? I don’t wear glasses... yet. I do like sunglasses though.

Does your mom know the last person you hung out with? Considering it’s my husband and kids, yes.

What were you doing 4 hours ago? I was headed home from Walmart after just getting off of work.

What would you most like to eat right now? We just ate dinner. I’m full.

How long were you last in the car for? Maybe 10 minutes.

What is something good that happened last weekend? We spent the day at Jake’s mom’s house and that went good.

Do you like holding hands or do you think it’s stupid? It depends on my mood, but when I don’t want to, it’s not because I think it’s stupid.. I just don’t want to.  

The last song you heard, what does it make you think of? I don’t even remember what song I last heard.

How’d you get your last injury? Our new kitten. Her name is Cookie. I found her outside of my work.

What do you like about your birthday? Spending it with my family. But my birthday is not my favorite. Every year something bad happens... usually a huge fight with either my mom or Jacob.

Do you like being home alone at night? I’m never home alone at night. I always have my kids at least. So not really.

What first comes to mind when thinking of 10th grade? My English teacher who was super amazing.

What’s the scariest thing that’s happened to you? Any time my kids got really hurt and resulted in a hospital visit. Unfortunately, they got my clutzy genes.

Has an ambulance ever came to your house? Yup. Usually for my mom or my grandparents.

The person you’re thinking about- what are you thinking about them? I’m not really thinking about anyone.

When did you last skip class? I don’t remember. It was in undergrad... so sometime between 2012-2016.

Do you like the shape of your fingernails? I don’t really care.

Did you look at your fingernails for the question above? I did not.

Whose pool did you last swim in? The one at my sister’s apartment.

What’s something you like about your 3rd hour? I’m in grad school and it doesn’t work like that... at least it doesn’t at the one I’m going to.

Is formspring a good idea? I don’t even know what that is.

What’s your biggest problem at the moment? The kids and I are leaving for Florida in a week for a week and I’m not even remotely prepared.

What’s the cutest thing someone’s ever done for you? I don’t know.

When did you last see a police car? Earlier today. It was driving down the road.

Why aren’t you doing something more productive than this? I don’t feel like it. I should be putting our mountains of laundry away. But I didn’t feel like it today. I’m so tired.

How many people know about the last person you kissed? At least most of the people in my house currently.

How many different cars have you driven? A lot.

What did you do on Thursday? I didn’t really do much last Thursday. I worked and then I worked on my signature assignment for class.

What color was the last thing you drank? Red.

What do you do on Fridays? It depends on the Friday. But usually I work, go to the store for groceries, and then make dinner.

Have you ever had to take desperate measures in a desperate situation? Yeah.

What door did you last open besides any on your house or car? Uh. The one at Walmart if you count automatic doors. If not.. it was Panera Bread because I’m part of the sip club and wanted a soda. I started my first period since Nora was born (November 2021) this past Saturday and craving sugar.

What is the meaning of life? It varies for everyone. The meaning of my life is to raise my babies into good humans and make them proud to have me as their momma.