#my teachers were cool

[theintelligentfool]

i enjoyed high school! i had a lot of friends! some of them were even close! but holy SHIT . i can say, with full confidence now. HIGH SCHOOL SUCKS SHIT and im GLAD I DON'T GO THERE!!!

[mayasaura]

Going into Alecto, I think it's important to expect that the series won't conclude with a clear lesson. Either about morality—what makes a good person, evil getting their just desserts, ect—or a thesis on decolonization. It's not that kind of story.

Deep down, this series is two drunk girls bearing their souls in a dark corner of the bar. An hours-long conversation that wheels wildly through pop culture, past trauma, theoretical physics, dreams and aspirations, global warming, hairstyling, friends, family, gender, personal insecurities, world history, favorite foods. It has a lot to say, and a lot of it profound, but it's not trying to teach anything. At the end of the night, the point was how fucking cool that girl was, and the potent electric potential for something lgbt to happen

[puppppppppy]

The garment, worn by those in good standing with Hyrule royalty, has been reworked with the latest improvements, such as a new shoulder guard.

[whoblewboobear]

Imagine being a sorcerery student showing up to class early for once and riiiiiight when you’re about to open the door you hear the weirdo barbarian teacher calling your teacher pet names Like 👀

Jace will be getting shit from his little chaos gremlins about it until the day they graduate 🫢

[sassypantsjaxon]

Hizashi Yamada is too powerful to be anything other than a side character

5/5 intelligence stat - this one's from the Ultra Archive book but I don't have anything to prove it, so you just have to take my word for it sorry but it's not hard to believe considering we know he speaks english well enough to teach it, has multiple high intensity jobs, and has some pretty good instincts too.

Highly intuitive - We see this first in chapter 83, after the training camp invasion, when Mic suggests a student could have betrayed them. And then again in chapter 254 with the Kurogiri reveal, where Mic questions the reason for it (really this is more of a grief fueled rambling, but I'm counting it anyway). In both cases, he's quickly dismissed, only to later be proven right.

Excels at all parts of heroism - Even as a teenager in the flashbacks in chapter 60 of Vigilantes, we can see that Mic is naturally skilled at being a hero. Obviously, he's now had 15 years to grow and improve, so it would be safe to assume he's even stronger and more skilled now.

Powerful quirk since birth - I think chapter 66 is the first time we get an idea of what he's really capable of. Plenty of other people have posted about just how destructive his quirk probably is, so I'm not going to rehash that here. What I am going to say is that we're told most people get their quirks around the age of 4, and we've seen that even as teenagers, they're still growing and strengthening their quirks. Whereas Mic's had literally his entire life to hone a quirk that was powerful enough to cause damage from the start.

Near All Might in terms of strength/power among UA teachers - Then in chapter 67, while Izuku's discussing his classmates exams with Recovery Girl, she states that Mic's one of the strongest teachers at UA. What interests me about this is that they're actually discussing Midnight, and Mic's already been beaten by this point. There's no need to bring him up really. Except that it's true and Izuku wants to learn everything he can about the pros. It's just a little throwaway line that actually reveals a lot.

And he does all of this while managing three very different jobs. Same, Izuku, same.

[batshikns]

idk i was really in tune with drawing today idk

today got a little bad in the middle(more specifically the mid morning and the mid afternoon for some reason??) but it was all okay in the end ❤️‍🩹

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.

It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.

The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.

They got worse.

By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.

That year, he became the freak.

At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.

He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)

His tics got worse.

In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.

Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--

So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.

No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.

He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.

He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.

He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--

But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.

And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.

Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.

Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.

The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.

Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.

When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.

It's okay. It's okay.

And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.

He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.

When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?

Steve kisses him.

And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.

One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.

Steve just says, Mine too.

[aeolianblues]

was kinda thinking about this when I saw Renee Rapp live recently-- I didn't know her visual vibe, I'd heard a few songs here and there but I hadn't really *seen* her, and her attire at Osheaga was really casual, a jersey (baseball/basketball?) and slacks. And that was so amazing! I couldn't help thinking, the work Billie Eilish has done for how women in pop music are allowed to dress is incredible. Seeing her up there all comfortable you just know that Billie walked in her oversized tops so that Renee in her slacks could run; Billie walked through all the critcisms about how she dressed slobbily and having to assert that she didn't owe anyone a display of skin, so that Renee could be comfortable and unquestioned running up and down the catwalk in front of 10,000 people. How iconic.

And I don't think we even realised at the time how much something as simple as letting Billie dress the way she as a (then-) 17-year-old teenager dressed, could end up meaning for a future generation of women in music.

Obviously there is still way to go, there were weirdos complaining about how 'plain' Dua Lipa's Glastonbury outfit was this year (in 2024!!), l have to ask, are you at Paris Fashion Week?? She is the musical HEADLINER of an entire day of music at one of the biggest music festivals in the world, and you can't grant her the space to exist as an artist, you have to moan about her dress not being excitingly revealing enough. There's work to do, it's still dismal out there. But the space Billie Eilish has created for a most ordinarily-dressed woman popstar is still heartening.

[jimahalangel]

okay so I just got back from the Drawfee live-show (incredible I had such a good time🩵🩵🩵🩵 probably gonna be talking about it for a while)

and I wanted to post pics of my Todd (From Mario) shirt that I made last week because everyone was so nice and seemed to like it :D

this was the shirt straight off the embroidery hoop before I realized that Todd's hat looks a little like a penits and had to fix it lol

and this is it the night of the show!

(bonus my brother and I took a picture with Julia):

[crabussy]

MULTIPLE people thought I was australian on that poll.... head in hands

[firendgold]

Hi do you see Albus as morally grey character who's also pretty cold and distant from other people? There are many interesting posts about him that describe him as such and it does make sense. He was probably someone who wouldn't let people get close to him and it would be a challenge to manage that. I can see Harry doing that but his case is special. What do you think? Was Albus a good man?

I do think Albus was a good man. Plenty of good men have to make decisions that do not weigh easily on the moral scale. A protagonist or supporting character whose methods and motives are purely good, unchallenged and uncomplicated by other players is an unrealistic protagonist or supporting character. Albus is as far from that as it's possible to be. His scheming made us uncomfortable, it made him uncomfortable, and it kept Harry alive. More importantly, he wanted to keep Harry alive, even against all the overwhelming evidence that he'd have to die.

I don't think he's cold. He is an expert at emotionally distancing himself from people, yes. But he does it in a very warm way, with little self-deprecating jokes and first-name terms and remembering your birthday and the pet you mentioned having. Albus Dumbledore knows you very well and you know Albus Dumbledore without knowing him (unless you're Harry). The average HP character would argue to the death that Dumbledore cares about people! without necessarily saying OR needing to believe that Dumbledore adored them, specifically. Albus knows how to connect to people and he uses that knowledge to appear approachable, trustworthy... when he needs to be approachable and trustworthy. Otherwise, he is holding people at arm's length so they do not hurt him.

I agree that Harry is very special. As much as Harry laments not knowing every detail about Dumbledore's early life, or why Dumbledore made the decisions he made re: the Deathly Hallows and Harry's life and upbringing, he is (and some readers are) also very blind to how close he is to his mentor despite all that.

If this is a racing track, nearly every other HP character is at the starting line, Dumbledore is at the finish line, Grindelwald might be a few inches away from him, and Harry is perhaps three strides behind Gellert with Snape breathing down his neck.

The two of them crack jokes with each other; they spend private time together without the awkward silences you get from lingering with a stranger; they trust each other deeply and speak very highly of one another. Harry got past defenses that Dumbledore had by that point spent a century building, without even trying.

I think Albus is one of very few intellectual characters who can make horrid decisions but is still very warm and kind instead of being the Cool Stoic Academic type through and through, and some people don't know how to reconcile that with the trope.

[phopollo]

I'm not sure if maybe I'm just unlucky here, or maybe there's like.... something wrong with a larger system?

But why have I taken 5 Spanish classes and only managed to learn anything in one of them? And why is the college class the one I've learned the least in?

[that1notetaker]

Lady :) @nokmietarchive

[hellafa]

kristen submitting an email w a blank attatchment and being like "what it didnt show up? crazy...." hits too close to home

[jils-things]

whoahghmm..... home and im so tuckered out

[bisexualamy]

my sister got married yesterday in the chabad shul we grew up in and it was a lovely wedding and i'm excited to have a brother (never had one before) but ALSO i need everyone to know that, after attending this shul for over a decade regularly and another decade intermittently (when i'm back to see my parents) i thought i'd found every picture of the Rebbe they'd hung up but i discovered, at 9pm after a long day full of wedding, while putting the chuppah away, that he does in fact also watch over us from the supply closet