#school injuries

[creativemedianews]

Ibstock Junior School Faces Criticism Over Bullying and Injury Concerns

Ibstock Junior School Faces Criticism Over Bullying and Injury Concerns #bullyinginschools #communicationissues

[a-salty-alto]

Reblog with where you're from (USAmericans if you're willing to specify state too that would be great)

I need to know if my suffering is just because my school district hates students or if it's a common thing

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was hit by a truck going 50km/h in front of an elementary school. The Wii bowling announcer voice announced it was a strike and the witnesses cheered and applauded the truck driver.

[speakergame]

Progress Report - 4/29/24

hello and happy birthday!

...is how this was going to start when I intended to post it this past Friday. But I spent my birthday as a side character in the hit 1996 movie Twister. By which I mean there was a really big tornadoful storm here, the likes of which I've never seen before. It's never a fun time when the words "historic" and "record-breaking" are involved.

But anyway! My birthday was a few days ago, and to celebrate I have a slightly belated gift for all of you!

A release date

That's right, we're back in business here in Speakerland 😁 I'm so relieved to finally return to some semblance of normalcy, and I'm very hopeful that I'll be able to get back to doing regular monthly updates again.

As for this one, the update will be going up on Patreon TONIGHT! I'll be uploading that momentarily, in fact. That means that, barring any strange game-breaking bugs or overly tangled code, the update will be out for public release on Tuesday, May 7th!

I just want to thank everyone one more time for your patience, and for all the messages of support 💙 it really does mean the world to me.

I think that's it for this time! I hope you all have a fantastic week with only mild-to-moderate tornadoes, and I'll see you all next week! 💙💙🌪️💙

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

------------

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[thewynne]

Think I've said this before but the thing that really gets me about Yuri On Ice is that it's so much kinder than the world we live in. Russia isn't violently homophobic. Men's figure skating isn't homophobic. The Russian coach won't let his youngest star do quads until he's old enough to do them safely. Just things that should be true but aren't yet.

[wild0moon]

man i love bico school :)

[daily-yhs-doodles]

[day 50]

unsurprisingly, mod beetle’s yhs blorbo is grian.. i don’t know how i’ve managed to avoid drawing him so far

[marypaol]

Scars on Your Skin like Stars in the Sky

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past wounds (not at all specific) and scars, I think that’s all! :)

Summary: As the Hogwarts floors are quiet and all eyelids are shut, Reader lays in Draco’s bed, asking him about his scars.

Note:

- No use of Y/N

- If you have requests (no smut please sorry) then post in comments!

- Any mistakes noticed? Let me know so I can fix it! :)

Masterlist

___

The silky sheets were smooth and cool beneath her skin, spreading warmth throughout her body but just enough for her to not overheat. The soft blanket covered her legs and legs only, leaving her upper body exposed for the air that surrounded them.

But the sheets on her skin was the last thing on her mind, for the man lying beside her was the center of her attention. He still had his white polo shirt on, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his sliver eyes focused on the ceiling. But she knew him by now, thinking such as her own eyes traveled along the side of his face; the curve of his forehead, his long nose that was round at the end, and his plump lips she loved to kiss every so often. She just knew his mind was on her, her touch that she was currently giving him. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin seeping through the shirt that covered his body. Her hand stroked the skin of his arm that was exposed, mind thinking wondrous things about his body. It was so beautifully sculpted to her, every inch perfect and so carefully detailed. She could do this forever, lay here and stroke his body, occasionally tilting her head up to whisper sweet nothings on his ear as her lips ghosted it.

Her fingers continued to stroke his arm, sometimes running over his stomach, feeling the strong muscles beneath the fabric. Her fingers stopped when she felt a slight bump on his skin, something that someone else would surely see as a flaw but she found as a little piece of art on his body. He noticed her fingers halt their movements, head glancing down to meet her eyes. “Where is this from?” She asked quietly, almost hesitant to ask him but her voice couldn’t help but be filled with curiosity. He sighed after a couple seconds, looking back to the ceiling and licking his lips, her watching his every movement. “Burnt myself in Potions.” He answered shortly, eyes scanning the ceiling as if he was asking it a question and it was at the point of telling him the answer.

“Did it hurt?” She asked carefully, stroking the scar of the burn as if it would take it away. Now, if anyone besides her asked him that question he would become very annoyed, because obviously a burn to his arm hurt like Merlin. But since she asked with so much concern, so much care in her voice that made him feel like she felt compassion and affection towards him, he answered honestly and softly. “Yes, it hurt. Very much so.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, almost like him feeling pain was something that shouldn’t exist on Earth. He chucked softly at her expression before lifting his hand to brush it off her face, fingers stroking her cheek.

“How about this one?” She asked gently, fingers coming in contact with a scar that was on his upper chest, feeling his heart beat on her palm.He smiled at her ever so gently, letting her continue to massage the scar that formed there. “Quidditch.” He replied, answer short and sweet as always. She knew he wouldn’t elaborate but him answering and allowing her to stroke his scars was something she was beyond grateful for; for it told her that he was comfortable enough around her to share his past injuries and occurrences.

“Well I hope there isn’t any more to add to the collection.” She spoke soft, stroking his arm once again. He nodded, swallowing thickly as he once again looked at the ceiling, but she once again knew that his mind was swarming with thoughts of her.

[iced-souls]

I’ve been getting so much nostalgia from the randomly recommended videos to me about skylanders that I decided to doodle up some of the characters I remember using most often.

Which inevitably made me receive more nostalgia from the figurines we kept cause OMG I FORGOT THEY HAD CARDS—

Closer/more pics under the cut

[alfazoings]

eepers!!!!!!!!

[abtheb]

Haven't flexed for the internet in a while.

[ilovemyboywife]

stamps that match my vibe!!

Gif stamps I made

Stamps of me/my hometown

Stamp of my art that my ex tattooed on him

SUKI SUKI DAISUKI STAMP!!

[moonshynecybin]

Hi! I have been thinking about Marc and the ways he expresses his anger... giving the cold shoulder... the silent treatment if you will (he will speak ABOUT vale but not TO vale let alone WITH vale)... need your input please....

hmm good question.... this got. STUPID long sorry

uhhh marc is, in general, good at keeping his (negative) emotions in check. like i think marc loooooves to think of himself on track as a mature, controlled, and rational dude. above distraction. a killer. a cyborg. idk his dad has talked about how he doesnt really complain much about injury and there's also allll these stories about what a mature kid he was... so i think that when he was young - ESPECIALLY in a racing sense because he was so much younger than most of the people he was competing against - he internalized that in order to do all the stuff he wants to do racing-wise, he reallyyyy has to keep a level head and not well. act his age! and i think that extends to a lot of how he manages his emotions today (at least in a public setting). even in places where im pretty sure hes PISSED (sepang. phillip island 2013.) he just kind of. visibly contains himself. not a confrontational dude in the outright sense he'll clench his jaw and try to work through it.

which is part of what makes his valentino-oriented crazy so interesting. bc people were noticing that marc in 2015 was kind of. being weird. as his and valentino's relationship deteriorated. like they were both outwardly very much like we can keep it on track :) until the big fallout towards the end of the year but uhhhh. well marc has said that vale started pulling back in september of 2014 like he was noticing SOMETHING, and they clashed on track A LOT in 2015, and i think marc sensed vale cooling on him and freaked a lil. hashtag neurotic 22 year old moments. he is my favorite crazy ex girlfriend. like usually he IS good at separating that stuff out and managing his emotions in the racing sense but in assen that year when vale overtook him off track after they made contact he raised a BIG stink with race direction and actually had some uh. not especially chill quotes about it. (it should be noted marc was also flopping for the first time in his motogp career. like in his brain he stopped winning AND vale stopped talking to him he was goin through it) adn all the reporters noticed too they were like. why werent you sucking and fucking in parc ferme. like vale's left turn wrt to spaniard sabotage comes outta nowhere but people WERE noticing that things were changing. i bet marc noticed too. BUT they are not the type of people to talk about these things so they keep it to vague flirting in presscons and escalating on-track tension slash proxy wars waged in race-direction contexts... liek truly you are 22 you are not going to keep your championship title and your hot sports idol bestie is no longer flirting with you on twitter and you COULD just talk to him about that but you'd rather DIE so youre going to ask honda to back you up to race direction about your last race where you DEFINITELY lost bc winning is the ONLY thing thatll make you feel better. even though thatll help convince your hot sports idol that you are engaging in a benedict arnold level betrayal scheme against him. an insane time to be marc marquez. 2015 really kind of is a study on how both of them handle losing: NOT WELL.

and then the thing about sepang is that then the lid is blown clean off and marc spends the ENTIRE race being annoying on purposeeeee. hes so fucking pissed and hurt at valentino that he decides to get under his skin for REALSIES instead of focusing on his race. like idk he probably would have fought hard for the win without the drama that how he works but uh. i think he was being annoying specifically to bite at vale's edges. and part of that is bc marc is naturally and effortlessly annoying. but i think part of it was SPITE. like his team advised him not to speak on anything from that presscon and he didnt, but he can still fuck him over on track. get under his skin. like he cant tell vale to his FACE that he's angry and confused and hurt. but he CAN let him know on that fucking racing line. where he cant be ignored. idk like i cant see marc letting anyone else get under his skin like that.

AND another big ass exception to the marc marquez anger management philosophy is from misano 2019 where vale messes with his qualifying lap. a lovely anon sent me some videos of marc talking to the press and jesus christ i dont think ive ever seen him angrier oh my god. AND the anon also linked the race from that weekend where he won and he celebrated harder than ive seen him celebrate some TITLE wins like he went. notably nuts. the commentators were all like uhhhh. he mustve REALLY wanted to get one over on vale adjfhlkdh... idk if any of this answered your question but his relationship to his emotions fascinates me hes so weirddddd. and its interesting to me that he can shrug off jorge ruining his last race at honda and be friendly but also be like. kind of aloofly pissed at bezz. because of valentino! he can repress the rest of it, but valentino shines through the cracks.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was taking the school bus to school and my mom was the bus driver. She kept running over people’s heads and I was screaming at her to stop. She did not. Not a good way to start the morning if you ask me and I woke up very disturbed.

[good-beansdraws]

Making a full post for my Fuuta Ballet AU because I actually had more thoughts about it hehe (Ballerina Girl)

+ a version of the au that's more general to the whole cast, with Es as the protag here!

As mentioned in the art, he’s exactly the same as canon except his life now revolves around dance. He’s in a very cliquey company (The Dark Pas de Trois?), surrounded by friends who are very similar-minded. Even though they're not in dance competitions specifically, they're constantly striving for better reviews/reputations than the neighboring companies. Fuuta struggles with stage fright, but doesn't let on to the others -- he just pushes through every time.

They visit a company rehearsing Nutcracker, and one of the snowflake dancers does something problematic backstage. Fuuta blasts him on social media for it, gaining popularity for his own account/dance company. Auditions and things go a bit smoother for them now that they’re internet famous.

There’s a scandal with the dancer playing the demon sorcerer Rothbart in Swan Lake, and Fuuta catches it on film. The video goes viral, once again boosting Fuuta’s popularity and ego. He’s praised as both a hero and talented performer. His friends are also soaring with this newfound fame.

Then, he catches a young background dancer in Sleeping Beauty doing something he deems worthy of a callout. He exposes her all over his social media. Rather than the usual social backlash, the girl is harassed in person. A crowd takes things too far, and an accident results in an injury that ends her career just as it was beginning. She will never dance again.

Facing his suspicious friends (and overcome with his own guilt), Fuuta flees the company. He plans on quitting dance for the rest of his life as well. Instead, he gets a mysterious invitation to the Milgram Dance Academy. He's never heard of them before, and the internet doesn't turn up much on them. Left with few other choices, he shows up for the first lesson.

The first thing that strikes him is it's a boarding school. He must live there and follow their rules in order to attend. They take his phone and restrict outside contact, much to his horror. The school solely focused on the arts -- no competitions, no big shows. There are three major shows they are planning, but Fuuta couldn't find any venues/tickets/advertisements, despite mention of a "global audience". The program is rigorous, and the instructor decides at the end of each semester if their final performance passes or fails.

The only thing more concerning than the sudden restriction of his phone is the strange group of residents he'll be spending his next few years with. His instructor is a mere child, no more than fifteen and very cryptic about their past training. His other classmates range in age and personality. He starts off dancing just as confident as usual, trying to show up the other students and make a strong first impression.

However, he fails the first semester. The grade list is made public to the whole academy, and Fuuta finds himself the subject of watching eyes and condescending whispers. Becoming sensitive to prying stares and audiences, he falls back into his usual stage fright. He endures (emotional) attacks from the passed students, although in his distraction he screws up some cues and gets injured.

Regarding the actual choreography -- as much as I love the classic shows (I mean, just look how cute he is as the nutcracker ;-;) my brain has been going brrrrr picturing ballet adaptations of the mvs... 🎹 / 🎹 / 🎹 / 🎹