#why didn't i get help in kindergarten when my teacher told my mom i had add

[neep-neep-neep]

celebrating small chores...did a load of laundry and folded and put it away...cleared on top of my dresser...hate adhd so much...but if i pretend i didn’t do anything it’s woooorrrseeee

[bomberqueen17]

*vibrating slightly in place*

So ok. When I was in kindergarten, my classroom was arranged so that four desks were linked together, so we were in little groups. I used to regularly vibrate my desk and the three it was attached to, with three other children in them, across several feet of floor space, until the linked desks ran into the teacher's desk, which was larger and did not move with the force of my vibrations. I was a good student, but hard to control, and markedly uneven in my ability to like. Do anything. "Well," my mom said once, upon beholding my entire spectrum of a report card, "we'd just hate to be bored."

When I graduated with my bachelor's degree, seventeen years later, my mom said "I never thought you could do it," and when I, shocked, said "what?" she said "well what with your ADHD and all," and I said "my what?" and she said "well, i never wanted to shake your confidence, and I thought once they put a label on you it'd be over, but you super have like, turbo ADHD. Why, what do you think your deal is?" She said it nicely and not in those words at all, but it was the first time I'd ever really realized that I wasn't just mildly eccentric, I did seem to actually have something wrong with me.

I've been trying to get a diagnosis ever since. I've never been able to. I had no health insurance at all for a huge chunk of my twenties, which put a damper on things. One doctor told me "you'd know if you had that" and when I was like "I... do" she was like "no i mean. you'd already be being treated." Which shows a wild and totally unwarranted optimism in our medical system, but she was a resident. The doctor overseeing her care of me suggested I try taking fish oil capsules. To "rebuild my brain tissue".

I did. It didn't help. I still buy them but mostly I use them now to get my cat to take pills.

Eventually in my 30s my doctors started sort of believing me maybe, or at least realizing they couldn't really brush me off (I have gotten... less easily-cowed as I've aged) but they were all like "oh, I can't evaluate that. You'll have to research and find a place that can do a neuropsych eval for you. Insurance doesn't cover those. So good luck. Have some antidepressants in the meantime."

I slid into my 40s, still undiagnosed. I read as many self-help books on the topic as I could find, did all the checklists I found. They all said "girl you super have like turbo ADHD." I tried meditation. I tried divination. I tried bullet journaling, which was hilarious. I tried yoga.

I actually damaged myself doing yoga and am banned from yoga, but at least I'm in physical therapy now. (Word to the wise: if you have really really flexible hip joints, don't fucking do yoga. "Usually I don't have to tell people not to get into that position," said my bemused physical therapist. "Oh," I said, blissfully bepretzeled. "It feels super good." "Mm," she said, "you've torn your labrum. Stop doing that." Now I do really, really boring stretches that don't feel nearly as good, but I also can walk without limping, so. Like. We take the good with the bad I guess.)

Anyway. My PCP in January was like "wait you didn't follow my super vague directions to go see 'the guys downstairs' and see if they can squeeze you into their eleven-month waiting period to get an evaluation that i cannot mention without saying it's several thousand dollars and your insurance surely won't cover it? you must not want this diagnosis very badly!" (At no point has anyone ever given me a phone number for 'the guys downstairs'. I still don't know what she meant by any of those directions. This PCP and I technically speak the same language but I've never understood a single thing she has told me and I don't think she understands a word I say in return, everything I tell her seems to be such a shock to her. You blame antidepressants for your weight gain? I've never heard of that. Ma'am please look up what the incredibly common side effects of antidepressants are.)

I called around but noplace both took my insurance and was accepting new patients. Finally I gave up. Then my Dude went on our insurance company's website and took over the search. He found that there's some kind of concierge service thing, which the insurance company normally charges $450/mo for but our plan includes it, because it's pretty well-hidden on the website and most people aren't ever going to find it anyway. So he said, you know what, I am going to instigate a query on this.

They took two weeks but eventually came back with a list of 13 places, most of them not remotely local. Ten of them were red X's, disqualified for varying reasons-- one because the phone number didn't work, another because it's a seven-hour drive away and doesn't do telehealth. One was in New Jersey. None of them were the local places I had already called.

Two of them were valid, but the insurance wouldn't cover the evaluation for various reasons.

One of them was fully covered, the insurance company said. So I went there.

Their website said "no you're not we can't see you". But Dude was like, call them on the phone. Surely, surely, the concierge service couldn't have lied??? Bet, I said, and called them and left a message, and said to him, if they call me back I will eat a hat.

But they did. They called me back. "Our insurance checker widget is down," they said. "But we do take your insurance! We can see you. We just don't know how much it will cost."

Ominous.

But. They could see me later in the week, via a telehealth appointment.

So I signed up.

The appointment was this morning. I turned up. Their insurance checker thingy still wasn't working so they couldn't be sure how much the appointment would cost me. I at this point don't care, and gave them my HSA credit card, and said do what you will.

I waited 45 minutes and then texted the number they'd texted me from with the confirmation, and a moment later the guy showed up. "Whoops," he said, "that system isn't working quite right either!"

He talked to me for like. Three minutes, and was like "yeah that sounds. Pretty textbook. I'm going to prescribe you stimulants." He then proceeded to take a very basic medical history, and I recognized all the questions because I have researched stimulant medication for ADHD so much. And he was like "We're going to start with Adderall, check at your pharmacy in like an hour." And then he gave me extremely useful and detailed instructions on how to take it, when to take it, what side effects to worry about, what to expect, what to note down in case it might mean a problem, and how to be safe about it. (He asked me three times if I'd ever been suicidal, and it had also been in the online pre-screening. I am aware that can be a rare but very serious side effect of stimulants!)

And then I went to Rite-Aid and I now have 16 pills in my possession, and i am going to wait until tomorrow morning to start taking them, and I am already scheduled for my follow-up in 15 days.

I have absolutely no idea how much any of that is going to cost, but for the record the pills were eleven dollars.

So. I don't know why the last decade of my life has been spent being told that a comprehensive and unattainably expensive neuropsychological evaluation was my only option. Maybe this place is a disreputable pill mill or whatever. But. I am going to get to try to medicate this disorder that has warped my entire life to this point, and I am going to try to see if I can't have some more control over my life, and if it doesn't work then at least I will know, instead of on my deathbed being like "i wonder if i'd ever tried amphetamines maybe I'd have been able to finish a project ever in my life, guess we'll never know".

Which was what I was starting to genuinely think was going to happen.

Literally though why can't a primary care doctor just refer you to a psychiatrist who can then decide whether you need an assessment or whether your condition is likely to respond well to a basic diagnosis?? I get needing the whole nine yards if you're not sure what's wrong with this kid and you don't want to give them the wrong thing-- like I know misdiagnosing a bipolar sufferer with depression can give you really bad outcomes, for example-- but-- I don't know? I don't know.

I just want to be able to start and finish projects. What I'd really love is to be able to make to-do lists meaningfully, as that is an ability I did used to have and now absolutely don't. I legit cannot make a to-do list in any meaningful or useful way.

So we'll see. I'm going to keep a journal and the real test of whether the pills work is to see whether I can actually keep the journal.

But I need to find some kind of edible hat, at some point, just to keep my word.

[eyitzme]

ᵗᵒʳⁿ ᵖᵃᵍᵉˢ ;; ᵈʳᵈᵗ

Summary: You can tear a page out of a book for countless reasons. The book can have things you don't want to read about, things you don't want others to know, or you simply felt like ripping it out. Whatever the case is, it's impossible to act like the pages were never there. No matter what, there will always be something to prove to you that there are pages missing, and the chances are that you'll know exactly why they're missing. Or, Ace Markey thinks about moments in his life relating to his childhood best friend, Min Jeung. Word Count: 427 A/N: My laptop can only work when it's being plugged in because the battery is dead. I have to use my mom's old one for now, but the fan gets turned on the moment you open it and it bothers me. Anyway, on a note that actually relates to this, this is the first chapter of a short multi-chaptered fic I started working on after Chapter 2's final episode because I started liking imagining Min and Ace as best friends, and them being childhood best friends made it even better. They literally are that in my heart, and you can't convince me otherwise. You can just take this as an advertisement to read this on other sites because Tumblr isn't the best place to post multi-chaptered works. If you're interested in reading more, the links to where you can read it in places where it will eventually have the other chapters will be provided at the end. And don't forget your daily clicks!

the future marks a path unknown to us. pebbles poke at my feet, while thorns poke into yours. we will still walk side by side. do you remember?

The first time Ace Markey met Min Jeung was on the first day of first grade.

Ace didn't want to go to school. He had no friends there. In his first grade class, he already knew were going to be some people from kindergarten, but he didn't like any of them, and none of them liked him. Everyone else there were strangers. With so many people telling him not to trust strangers, it made it hard for him to understand why he was being put in a place with so many of them for so long.

Ace's first grade classroom had desks arranged in rows where there were two desks were pushed next to each other. They were placed randomly to help give the children an opportunity to talk to someone they might never have seen before. His desk was next to a stranger. The first thing he noticed about her was that she had really long hair, and some of it was falling over her eyes. He had immediately wondered if she had ever gone to a barbershop before and if he could introduce her to his. She always smiled when he told her his first opinions about her.

His first words to her were a simple, "Hi." He had decided that the new girl couldn't be that bad and was trying to get someone to play with at recess. He had no one else, so he might as well take advantage of what the teacher had tried to do.

The girl looked at him with really bright purple eyes. They looked so unnatural that, back then, he thought they looked weird, and it was good her hair was starting to cover them up. "Hi," she said.

"My name is Ace," he said. "What is your name?"

"Min," she said.

"Where do you come from?"

"My country?"

"No, school."

"Another town."

"You moved here? From where?" Ace had never moved before, but he saw it a lot on TV shows. His past self could never see himself leaving his home to move into another one down the street, let alone leaving the United States of America to live somewhere else entirely.

"I can show you on a map."

"What is a map?"

Min gave him a look he never saw anyone have before. She was suddenly interested in her school supplies. Now, Ace knew Min had thought he was stupid, but back then, he didn't know what he did. All he did know was that he wasn't going to be playing with anyone at recess today.

Short chapter, but that's really how they all are. Anyway, if you want to read more, you can read it on Wattpad or AO3! Please note that the rest of this work will have spoilers for Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. It's just this chapter that didn't have it. If you would rather read more on Tumblr, just ask me for the next part. I won't constantly be updating this on Tumblr though, especially with my laptop deciding it lived a long enough life, so it's up to you to keep asking for new parts. Still, if you got this far, thank you for reading!

[phrandallanton]

Speech Stories

When I learned how to click my tongue I kept doing it over and over. My mom got annoyed and told me that I could click my tounge off to get me to stop. Then one day when I was in speech class the teacher wanted us to click our tongues and I imedently started protesting against it not only for my sake, but for the other four kids sake.

In kindergarten speech I was given words to learn how to pronounce correctly and we'd have a test at the end of the week, one of the words was "lorax". It took me a while but after awhile I got it and was very confident in saying it. So much so my mom would randomly ask me to say it and I'd proudly respond "LORAX!!!" Test week comes, I have to say lorax, but now there's so much pressure. I remember looking up at the teacher and saying "...Lord ass??" The kids where flabbergasted.

In 2nd grade speech there was this girl who was really obsessed with me. I don't know why but she always wanted to be around me. I remeber her specifically wrapping her arms around my waist like a belt even if we where walking somewhere. She never spoked or even acted like she knew me after that year.

Jumping to 7th grade, not technically during speech but it was in the speech room I'd go to. I got pulled aside to talk about my grades. I wanted to show her I was listening and I remember from a youtube video I saw that when people make eye contact it means they're listening to what you are saying. A way that can help with this is to try and remember there eye color. So I did just that. Unfortunately, this lady's DNA decided to give her greenish, blueish eyes that also had a hint of brown. I really didn't and still don't know if her eyes where more blue to be considered blue or more green to be considered green. I just kept staring at her dead in the eyes not realizing she stopped talking and was asking me if I was okay. Yes, I still have no clue what she said during that whole conversation.

Bonus story: 6th grade computer room, end of the year testing, some older kids kept picking on me. One of them looked at my sketches and asked me what did the "S" stand for. I just sighed "it stands for 'Shut the f-k up'" Suprisingly that made him leave me alone. To be honest I should of said more, those shoes where the best shoes in the world. All black, no shoe lace so I never had to worry about tying them, he was just jealous his stinky toes weren't in them.

[faraway-sunshine]

Wow, kinda late for the diagnosis.

I got the diagnosis when i was 7, but my mom said even that’s late. I heard that autism related “illnesses” diagnose at 3-4 years old. I guess symptoms are obvious even then.

And the stuff you told about your experience in school due to that? Very relatable.

When i was in primary school, i was, i guess, the weird kid everybody hates. Too emotional, strange sense of humor, “strange” interests, didn’t fit in with others and etc. That definitely didn’t help me, so i was bullied not only by the kids, but also by the teacher that taught the class, because i genuinely didnt like her. She was mean, strict, couldn’t teach us good and she was overall not so likeable. When i was hiding out whenever i felt hurt or when i was just too overwhelmed with work, she would tell me to get back up, because i acted like a toddler.

Also i argued with her all the time, because everytime she did something i deemed unjustified, i would “stand up” for the others and argue with her. Of course it didn’t help, but it felt good knowing i was the one who “defended” the class from her.

I also recently got a call from my ex friend from primary and he said he wants to continue talking and stuff. He ignored my calls for two years. When i asked him why he ignored me, he answered with “you was kinda weird in primary, but it seems thats not the case anymore”. Btw, he was the only reason i even had the strength to go to the school. I hung on him after that.

I also didnt even tell nobody i had aspergers, bcz i didnt thought its a big of a deal, so i was targeted just for being weird. How lucky of me..

Also i left out some (many) details because frankly im kinda embarrassed i was even like this, and the stuff i did is even more embarrassing, but you get the general idea

God. I relate maybe too strongly to this. Even though I had my friends, I didn't always. And I've had a few teachers that are pushy like that too.

And I remember a little from when I was at kindergarten at another school and all of that happened with no respite.

I hope you're doing better these days and have better people to surround yourself with.

(Thursday 14th September, 2000, 6:24 PM)

[empressofthesunwriter]

A little bit of Fairy Dust 03

Umemoto Hiromi is the daughter of Lady Butterfly and Lightshow, both Pro-Heroes. Despite her Quirk, Fairy, not being traditionally powerful, she is determined to prove that she has what it takes to be a successful hero and surpass her parents. A little Self-Insert!

Chapter 2: The Battle Trail

Her second school day at the U.A. started for Hiro and her friends like in any other normal Japanese high school.

With normal subjects like English.

After morning classes, it was time for lunch.

Finally, a chance to socialize and eat.

Hiro wanted to learn more about cute Izuku and pretty Ochaco.

The first thing she learned about Izuku was that he must be a huge hero-fanboy, then as the Pro-Hero Lunch Rush came to their table to check if anything was alright with the food, he nearly fainted.

So cute.

"So I guess you like heroes a a lot, right Izuku?", she mussed, as the Pro-Hereo left them.

He blushed adorably.

"Is it so obvious?"

"Yeah!", told him Ochaco, eating her rice happily.

The poor boy blushed more.

Hiro's wings fluttered a bit.

So cute!

"Having Pro-Heroes parents, I know a lot of Pros. They are kinda like uncles and aunts to me.", told Hiro, taking a sip of her water.

"Truth, your dad is Lightshow and your mom Lady Butterfly!", remembered Ochaco. "I love Lady Butterfly she is an awesome rescue hero and so beautiful like a fairy queen!"

This made Hiro giggle.

"I will tell this to my mama when I see her."

"Hiro.", began Izuku. "Why do you want to become a Pro-Hero?"

This caused Tenya to snort for a second, which made Izuku and Ochaco stare at him in disbelief, while Hiro hit his arm.

"Tenya it's not that funny!"

"Oh, it is Hiro!"

"Aww, now I'm curious !", Ochaco was formally jumping up and down on her seat. "If Tenya laughs it's a good story."

Both who didn't know the story looked at them with wide big sparkling eyes.

Hiro sighed and smacked her head against the table.

"You were there Tenya, you can tell it."

She felt him patting her back, but he didn't have mercy on her.

"Alright, imagine these guys. You and your best friend just turned four. All have their Quirks besides your best friend. Hiro proclaimed her Quirk would be so awesome that's why it took time. Then the next day...a cute little fairy, Hiro here, steps into the kindergarten. You could see how embarrassed she was."

"Oh dear.", laughed Ochaco and even Izuku had to hide a smile.

"Then some guys made fun of her and Hiro turned into fury herself. She jumped them and beat them up, her red hair swinging around, she looked more like a demon than a fairy at this moment."

"No!", shouted Ochaco, while Hiro groaned.

"The teacher called my parents, only my mama could come to clear the situation."

"Hiro didn't see anything wrong with her action and proclaimed loudly she would be the most badass fairy ever and beat up all bad guys when she would be an adult!", added Tenya. "And this in the arms of her fairy mother, who was a known rescue hero. Umemoto-San looked embarrassed."

Ochaco giggled, even little giggles escaped Izuku.

Hiro raised her head from the table and put her head on a hand.

"Yeah, I want to become a Pro-Hero to show this judgmental little shits how strong a fairy can be, also I was raised to help when I could. So it was a no-brainer."

"When you don't turn demon.", called Tenya in.

"When I don't turn demon...hey!", shouted Hiro and hit Tenay playfully over and over on his arm. "I don't turn into a demon when I get angry!"

"Really, you could foul anyone, how your eyes get so dark and your red hair swings around!"

"Guys, guys, stop!", laughed Ochaco loud and wiped away tears. "I can't anymore."

"I think it was a cute story.", admitted Izuku with red cheeks.

"You are my new best friend Izuku!", told Hiro and took his hand.

The poor boy blushed crimson red and thought: "A girl is touching my hand!".

"Hiro don't be like that."

"No, you are out Tenya."

"Oh god my stomach!"

"Come on, it's a funny story."

"For you all, for me it's embarrassing."

"I don't know, beating up all these mean kids sounds cool!"

"Thanks Ochaco!"

"Erm Hiro.", whispered Tenya quietly to her. "I think you should let go of Izuku's hand, he is an alarming shade of red."

Surprised Hiro checked Izuku and yeah, Tenya was right.

Doing so as if it was nothing she let go of his hand and continued to eat.

Well, at last, she learned one thing.

Izuku was at least attracted to her!

Yes!

Now just to check with Ochaco.

/*/

It was finally afternoon which meant: Hero Basic Training!

“I am...coming through the door like a normal person.”, shouted THE All Might in greeting as he entered the classroom.

Everybody got excited seeing the number one hero.

"It's All Might!", shouted Denki.

"Wow, he really is a teacher!", celebrated Kirishima.

"That's a costume from the Silver Age, isn't it?", wondered Tsuyu.

"Its style is so different, it's giving me goosebumps.", admitted Ojiro.

“I teach Hero Basic Training.”, explained the Number One Pro Hero turned teacher. “It is a subject where you train in different ways to learn the basics of being a hero. You'll take most units of this subject! Let's get right into it! This is what we'll do today— Combat training!”

Hiro clapped her hands in excitement. She couldn't wait to show all her cool moves!

"And to go with that are these!", proclaimed All Might.

He had a little remote control and pushed a button on it.

Out of one of the walls, shelves with numbered metal suitcases popped out.

"Costumes made based on your Quirk registrations and requests you sent in before school started. After you change, gather in Ground Beta!"

"Yes, sir!", chorused the whole class together.

Hiro couldn't wait for her costume.

She had taken inspiration from the old Winx Club cartoon and hoped it would look so good as she had imaged it in her head.

After Class 1-A dons their hero costumes, they assemble at Ground Beta to participate in the Trial of Battle.

All Might tell them: “They say the clothes make the man, young men and ladies. Be fully aware...From now on…you are heroes!”

All young heroes-to-be posed cool before their teacher.

"That's great, everyone. You all look cool! Now, shall we begin, you zygotes?”

All shouted a yes.

That’s when Izuku turned up and…why did he look like a bunny?

Ochaco said to him he looked really down to earth, in contrast to her who got a skintight suit.

Well, Izuku certainly liked what he saw, since he was holding nose blood in.

"I think you both look great.", called Hiro.

Izuku and Ochaco turned to their friend...and now both were blushing and, jep there was blood out of Izuku's nose.

Hiro was wearing a short white-silver glittering jumpsuit with a long right sleeve that widened towards her hand. 

Her left arm was bare, aside from a black arm bracelet and a black fingerless glove. 

She also wore high-heeled boots in the same colour as the jumpsuit. 

Hiro's hair was styled, and with her already pretty fairy wings, she looked like a vision.

She was gorgeous!

"You look like Winx!", gasped Ochaco with red cheeks. "No even better, isn't it right Deku?"

From him came only a fast nod.

Cutely Hiro posed, the hearts of Ochaco and Izuku nearly jumped out of their chest, and thanked them.

Then the little pervert, Mineta was his name if Hiro remembers correctly just gave a thumbs up and said how the hero course was the best.

This got Izuku and Ochaco out of their admiration, while Hiro discreetly kicked the little perv away.

All Might called for attention.

He explained that the class would be divided into ten teams, with half being heroes and half being villains.

The villains' goal is to protect a nuclear weapon that they plan to deploy, and the heroes' objective is to stop their plan.

If the heroes manage to capture the villains or reach the nuclear core before time runs out, they win.

On the other hand, if the villains can hold onto the nuclear core for the entire duration or capture the heroes, they win.

The teams would be randomly selected by drawing lots, as in real life, heroes often have to collaborate with other heroes whom they may not know well.

After anyone drew, the teams were clear.

Izuku was with Ochaco.

Hiro felt sorry for poor Tenya who was with Bakugo in a team.

This Bakugo seemed like a grand asshole.

Her teammate was the tall shy boy Koda Koji.

Mmh, she didn’t know what Quirk he had, she hadn’t paid attention yesterday, so she asked him what he could do.

Silent and shyly, oh he was adorable, he explained his Quirk.

Its name was Anivoice which allows the user to communicate with and command animals through speech.

“Alright, my Quirk is Fairy, I can fly and shoot light beams out of my hands. I can use the light also as a shield, but my most special move is my Fairy Dust. It's a fine powder my wings produce which can cure wounds and even illness, only I can heal other people with it, healing myself doesn't work. We shall see if we will be heroes or villains and then come up with a strategy to use our Quirks together.”

The big shy boy nodded.

Aww, he was like a big teddy bear.

Such a cutie.

The teams were drawn by lots, and All Might announced that Team A (Izuku & Ochaco) would face Team D (Bakugo & Tenya).

It's interesting to see her friends pitted against each other and with a difficult teammate in the mix.

Since she doesn't want to play favourite she gives her three friends just a thumbs up and follows the other to the monitor room, where they could watch, but not hear what happened.

Five minutes passed, and Team A entered the building.

Before getting too far, Bakugo attacked them.

His sneak attack only managed to damage half of Izuku's mask; the latter was able to evade while saving Ochaco.

“A surprise attack from the start?”, said Momo.

“Bakugou, that's cheating!”, shouted Kirishima. “A surprise attack isn't manly at all!”

“A surprise attack is a strategy, too.”, corrected them All Might. “They're in the middle of a real battle right now.”

“Midoriya avoided it!”, praised Mina.

“There goes Bakugo!”, warned Denki, like Izuku and Ochaco could hear him.

Bakugo wants to hit Izuku with his right fist, however, Izuku does a perfect Judo-Throw and Bakugo is on the floor.

Izuku says something to the ground laying Bakugo, he seems to shout and declare something.

Then Bakugo gets up again.

He activated his Quirk and shouted at Izuku back.

The hero team of Izuku and Uraraka emerged victorious in the end.

It was an intense battle, with Izuku being knocked out and brought to Recovery Girl.

Ochaco also fainted during the fight.

The hero team won, but Fumikage remarked that they had won the battle, not the war.

All Might then gathered the three remaining participants for a post-exercise review to assess everyone's performance.

“Well, even if I say that the MVP for this battle was young Iida!”, told them All Might.

Almost everyone was surprised by this.

“It's not either of the winners, Ochaco or Midoriya?”, asked Tsuyu a loud.

“Hmm, well...Why is that? Does anyone know?!”, asked All Might.

It was Momo who raised her hand.

“Yes, Mr. All Might. That is because Iida adapted the most to the context of the training. From watching the match, it appears Bakugou acted on his own because of an obviously personal grudge. And as Mr. All Might said earlier it is foolish to launch a large-scale attack indoors. In the same way, taking into consideration the damage he received Midoriya's plan was also rash. As for Uraraka, she let her guard down mid-battle and her final attack was too reckless. If she treated the papier-mache as a real weapon she would not have been able to do something so dangerous. Iida had prepared for his opponent's arrival and assumed it would be a fight over the weapon which made him late in responding to the final attack. The hero team only won because they took advantage of the fact that this was training. They were practically breaking the rules.”

Everyone, including All Might, was astonished by Momo's precise and well-thought-out explanation.

“W-Well, young Iida also has parts of him that could be more relaxed but well that was correct!”, confirmed All Might with a thumbs up.

“We should always start with the basics to develop depth of learning. We must strive to devote ourselves wholeheartedly.”, lectured Momo everyone. “Otherwise, we cannot become top heroes.”

Hiro had formally heart eyes.

Momo wasn't only beautiful, but also smart.

What a turn-on!

In the next battle, the hero team consisting of Shoto and Mezo faces off against the villain team comprising Mashirao and Toru.

The battle takes place in a different building.

Shoto instructs Mezo to step outside, then freezes the building and heats up the floor, immobilizing Mashirao and Toru.

Finally, Shoto casually touches the core, leading to victory for him and Mezo.

Okay, Shoto was so hot!

Why has Hiro only hot people in her class?

How should she decide who to pursue if anyone was so amazing?!

The next battles continued till it was time for Hiro and Koji.

All Might draws Hiro and Koji as the villains and Aoyama, the French and Mina, the alien-looking girl, as heroes.

Okay, this was nothing they couldn’t handle.

Hiro was sure they were strong enough to beat them.

She asked Koji to have some of his animal friends act as scouts, so they would know where the heroes were.

Aoyama and Mina didn't know that pigeons were watching their every move and reporting back to Koji and Hiro.

Hiro then decided to launch a surprise attack.

Koji would protect the bomb, while she tried to take out at least one of the heroes.

Thanks to the pigeons, she knew where they were.

Silently, she followed behind them, and when Mina stopped to check something, she swooped down like a vulture and caught her off guard with tape.

Mina protested, which made Aoyama take note of Hiro.

He shot his navel laser, but she created a light shield.

Then she body-slammed Aoyama with all her might and used tape to restrain him as well.

All Might declared Team Villain as the winner.

After reviewing how Hiro and Koji effectively used their Quirks together, the battle trial was over.

They all left the Monitor Room.

On the ingress of Ground Beta All Might told them: “Good work everyone! We didn't have any major injuries other than young Midoriya, either! You guys took this one seriously! You all did a good job for your first training!”

“To have such a proper class after Mr. Aizawa's class.”, began Tsuyu “It's kind of anticlimactic…”

Nearly every one of the students nodded in agreement.

“We're free to have proper classes, as well! Well then, I must review the results with young Midoriya! Change and return...to the classroom!”

And with that, All Might run away.

All wonder why he suddenly left them so fast.

Whatever they made their way over to the locker rooms, to change back and then return to their classroom.

/*/

Amused Hiro watched how Tenya tried to get Tokoyami down from one of the school tables as she heard a commotion around the door.

It was Izuku and nearly the whole class congratulated him on being so awesome.

His eyes found hers and she smiled at him, which made him blush.

Then Hiro turned back to Tenya, as Kyoka told him it was nothing if Tokoyami sat on the table and Ojiro added why Tenya made his hands chomps.

"You people...", growled Tenya. "I cannot condone actions that disrespect the desks the great men and women who are our upperclassmen once used!"

"You're too loud.", deadpanned Tokoyami.

Hiro lay a hand on Tenya's shoulder and told him drily: "You honouring our upperclassman is nice, but it's not like Tokoyami sits on the Holy Grail or something."

"Hiro on which side or you on?"

"On the normal side."

This made all laugh.

That's when Ochaco and Denki returned with their books. As Ochaco saw Izuku she ran over to him, asking him why he was not completely healed.

He explained how Recovery Girl told him it was because of his stamina, and then he noted that Bakugo wasn't there anymore.

"He left super pissed off.", called Hiro over. "He seems ready to kick someone's ass."

Why this makes Izuku take his belongings and race after Bakugo no one knows.

They could only speculate.

Well, another eventful day for class 1A ended.

[la-undercover-latina]

Remembrance

A/N: So I know that Hange’s birthday is Sept. 5th and I had full intentions of posting this yesterday, but I got hit with a migraine.

Summary: Modern AU! Levi and Y/N’s daughter meets her namesake on their birthday

“Miss Ackerman please report to the office. Your parents are picking you up,” Zoey’s teacher spoke, after hanging up the phone.

Zoey Ackerman packed up her things, assuming that she had a doctors appointment that her dad forgot to mention when he dropped her off at school.

“Daddy?” Zoey asked when she saw her father standing at the front office desk, signing her out of school for the day.

“Come on, your mom is in the car,”

“Is mama having my little brother?” Zoey asked. That was the other idea bouncing around her brain.

“Not yet baby girl,” Levi grabbed her hand but she looked up at him with her mother’s puppy eyes, and he sighed, giving up and picking her up, slinging her backpack over his shoulder.

“So where are we going?”

“We’re going somewhere special,” Levi smiled, staunchly fighting the tears from falling.

“Okay daddy,” the 5 year old assumed that it meant that he didn’t want to say that he was taking her to the park while they were still on her school grounds.

It was then that the pair got to the SUV parked, and Zoey bounced as the car came into view.

“Alright Zoey, I’ll let you buckle yourself in. And I’ll just check,”

“Yes daddy,” Zoey smiled, missing one of her front teeth that fell out this morning during breakfast. An event that she made sure all of her friends knew for a fact. Out of the kindergarteners, she was the first to lose a tooth.

It was then that the 5 year old started and successfully got herself buckled in, which Levi checked and gave her a soft smile.

“So Zoey, baby. Do you know what today is?” Y/N asked, Turing around on the passenger seat while Levi got in the driver’s, her heart heavy with the significance of today.

“Septemboo 5th,”

“Close baby, September. But yes. Do you know what’s special about today?”

“Is it my birthday?” Zoey asked, hoping that she would be able to sweet talk her parents into getting her an early birthday present.

“Not yet Zoey. It’s someone else’s birthday,” Y/N knew that she would have to be the one to talk through this with the child.

“Who’s? Mommy, we didn't go shopping!” Zoey felt panic rush through her veins at going to a birthday party and not getting a present.

“Baby do you remember the story of daddy’s friend H-Hange?” Y/N finally choked out and Zoey nodded.

“Yeah daddy told me how they were best friends,”

“Yeah baby, daddy and Hange were best friends. That’s where your name came from. Mommy and Daddy named you after them,” Y/N spoke softly.

“Hange died before you were born Zoey, so since today is their birthday, we’re going to their grave and putting flowers down,” Levi spoke, putting the car in drive and heading towards the graveyard.

When the trio got there, Zoey finally saw the bouquet of flowers in her mother’s hands.

“Mommy, can I carry?” Zoey asked and Y/N nodded before handing over the flowers.

“Follow daddy,” Y/N told her daughter as Levi led the way to where his best friend was buried.

“Hey four eyes,” Levo spoke softly as he stopped at the tombstone.

“Brought you something for your birthday,” he spoke again and put his hand on Zoey’s shoulder.

“Go on sweetie,” Y/N gently pushed the child.

“Do I just lay them down daddy?” Zoey asked, never have brought flowers to a grave before.

“Here, I’ll help,” Levi knelt down and gently put his hand over Zoey’s and laid the bouquet at the base.

“What kind of flowers are these daddy?”

“Poppies. Mommy said they are for people who died serving their country. And these are forget me nots. They’re for when someone close to you dies but you choose to never forget them,”

“Is that why you named me Zoey?”

“No baby,” Y/N finally knelt down.

“It was my idea. Daddy loved it though. The reason I wanted to name you Zoey was a couple of reasons. For one, anytime Hange felt my belly when you were still growing, even if you were sleeping, you’d wake up and kick. Also, Hange was a person that was courageous, curious, and smart. And I hoped that you would have those qualities too, and you do,” Y/N begun to tickle Zoey.

“So yes, you were named after Hange. But it wasn’t to keep their memory alive. Everyone who knew them does that with their own memories, and that’s another reason we brought them flowers on their birthday,” Y/N finished.

“Happy birthday Hange,”

Taglist:

@postwarlevi

[hayleyb100]

Updraft

⚠️Trigger warning!

-Domestic violence, child abuse

⚠️Heads up:

-Everything is headcanon weaved on to canon

-It's a story featuring Endeavor and Inasa Yoarashi from BNHA

I despised silence ever since I was little because my life was sunken in it. Since my first memory, I was with mom most of the time, but she was always busy looking at the computer and barely talked to me. The house was buried under piles of rubbish all the time but she cared less. That's why I wasn't afraid of roaches as they always crawled everywhere. I had no choice but to watch the kids going to kindergarten holding their parents' hands as mom didn't seem to remember my age. I used all the means to attract her attention: Told her what was going on outside the window, cleaned the house clumsily, and hugged her. I even drew on the wall thinking it was mischief enough to make her scold me, but she didn't pay any attention to me.

One day, I realized that the wind started swirling around me. I was exhilarated that I finally awakened my own quirk. I fiddled with it to get used to it and showed mom what I can do with my floating colorful papers around me.

She was upset because I made a mess in the room, but I was just over the moon that I finally got to make her look at me. So I did it again.

Again.

And again...

Until one day she grabbed me and started beating me up. I don't remember what my mom was yelling, but it was like a roaring thunder. I was scared out of my soul that all I could do was scream for help.

The fear devoured me and when her slap almost reached my head, I could feel a jolt zapping through my whole body and everything turned dark.

When I finally woke up, I was lying on a pile of rubble with mom unconscious at the side. We were both rushed to the hospital and when doctors asked me what was going on, I couldn't answer. Not because I didn't want to but because I honestly didn't know. The police also investigated our house but went back empty-handed. They just concluded that it was an accident, considering how old my home was. Even now I have no idea what happened back then.

_______________________________________

After mom woke up, she dragged me somewhere. I thought she was taking me for a stroll but we ended up in an orphanage. She said to be a nice boy and stay here. I was so confused. I asked her when she'll be back and she said never, coldly.

"Mom, MOM!!" I still remember me screaming breathlessly.

"No, don't leave!! I'm sorry, I'm SO SORRY!! I won't be a naughty boy again using my quirk inside the house! I'll keep quiet and never annoy you again, just DON'T LEAVE ME!!"

No matter how much I screeched, it didn't reach her. She heartlessly slapped away my hand, saying: "You're in my way, freak."

I fell silent instantly. Despite I was only 5, I could feel that a thin feeble thread that tied us broke to the point of no return. I stopped struggling as I watched her walk away. I knew I would never see her again but also knew trying to cling onto her was pointless.

My life in the orphanage began but got used to it fairly quickly. Nursing teachers were almost like my mom, who only interacted when they needed to discipline us. They looked worn out and tired 24/7, as there were so few teachers compared to how many we were. I already learned to talk less to tired adults, so I toned down. Plus, I got more aware of what's around me- became sensitive- because I had to survive, and not get on the nerves of the teachers.

I think it was when I started attending the public kindergarten that my voice started to get louder and louder. Unlike the nursing teachers and mom, the teachers in kindergarten paid attention to me and interacted with me. I wanted more- like someone who found an oasis in the middle of the desert. So whenever I was outside the orphanage, I started to talk louder and react more vigorously. It sure worked, but everyone began to consider me a weirdo. I honestly didn't care one bit. I sugarcoated my sensitive nature with boldness, to show I'm alright, and don't have to bug someone for a care. To make sure I don't get into other's nerves. I "pretended" as if I fear nothing. I passionately enrolled in everything I can possibly I can put my hands on, found something that I could like about things, and tried my best to befriend everyone around me as I needed something to interact with. It allowed me to cope and step above the grim reality and gave me the boost I need. The zealousness settled down as my motto.

And naturally, the hero attracted my attention. The way they passionately protected others and overcome any hurdle in front of them captivated me, and gave me hope that I could be somebody in society to help... Someone who can save others who are in my seat, as I don't want anyone else to go through the same pain I had to endure.

Among countless heroes, Endeavor was the one who caught my eye the most. Not only his fancy fire quirk but his name too.

It gave me a hint of how much he had to endure to reach where he is now, enlightening me with the hope that if I endure what's in front of me now, I can one day be just like him. To be the No. 2 hero with endless endurance and effort only meant that he is that much passionate as a hero.

So I was so excited when I got a chance to see him up close. It was seriously an honor. When he arrested a villain and things settled down, I rushed towards him and asked him for an autograph. It'll be the most valued treasure.

But...

He slapped my hands away, saying something that I didn't ever want to hear:

"You're in my way."

His ice-cold glance into the distance that contrasting his fire, refusing to look back on me, froze my heart. It triggered my trauma to bash in full force, and I flopped down on the floor and couldn't move. I tried my best to keep myself together but could feel like my sanity was scattering. The fantasy I had with Endeavor dusted away. As I walked back to the orphanage, I could feel hatred against Endeavor sprouting within me. It was supposed to be hatred against the woman who discarded me, but I projected it on him. The hero who didn't care about the heart of those he save- I couldn't stand it.

I just bottled it up and focused on my training, as I couldn't let one man alter what I believe in the values of helping others.

I thought I was on the track until it was Provisional Hero License Exam. All the work I put in to be different from Endeavor came back like boomerang and stabbed my back, as I was exactly the failure hero I wanted to avoid so badly. The hero full of hatred and selfishness. Hating Todoroki Shoto just because he had the eyes of his dad was prejudice however you look at it. I felt so sorry to Shoto and was humiliated out of my soul that I just wanted to dig myself into a hole. After telling myself how much I hate the fire hero, I ended up becoming him. It crushed me. Honestly lost the direction of the "hero" I was pursuing as a whole, like a boat left all alone on the middle of the ocean without any wind to blow on the sail.

___________________________________________

The time passed and it was the day for a remedial course to get the Provisional Hero License that I failed to get in the first trial. In all honesty, I didn't want to go because I was still lost in the way of hero, but ended up attending as the choices to seek the way will get even narrower without the license.

And there he was, another reason why I didn't want to attend. I knew he'd be there since his son Shoto was there, but wished he wouldn't show up. But as usual, the world sneered at my wish, and there he was.

Although... Something seemed different about him from the last time.

And when he was talking to his son after the exam, I had to punch myself to see if I'm seeing things, as his cold glance melted away. It was like a completely different Endeavor I'm seeing. Not sure what happened but it was good all in all. I was repeatedly suffering from bipolar emotions of love and hate towards Endeavor, as he was the first hero I got fond of but then I thought I chose the wrong idol to worship. But his warm gaze nipped a little of my hatred, and I was finally able to ask for a handshake... Though his eyes were fixed on the blood than me.

__________________________________________

Despite I thought I made up with him, I was still feeling uncertain about how to feel about him. Sure he changed, but not sure if it was genuine.

I didn't know what to think of the fire hero...

Until the "incident" happened.

Everyone was taken aback at the appearance of the strongest Nomu yet. Teachers were telling us to go back to the dorm as there was nothing to see, but I couldn't move one bit. Endeavor, the hero that gifted the little ember of hero, was blood-coated in front of my eyes. I honestly thought I lost all interest in the fire hero, but I couldn't help but yell in my head with every drop of my blood and soul: "Get up!! Get up!!"

Did my voice reached him? I know my voice is known to be loud, but never thought even the silent voice can reach someone.

Endeavor burned all my doubts into ashes...

Along with the hooded Nomu.

His fight was nothing short of breathtaking. No matter how many people doubted him and longed for the former symbol that wasn't even there, he pushed beyond his limit and saved the day.

He was the "hero"... The HERO that I always wanted to see and be. Tackling your fear and scorching white with passion to guard others.

Whenever I get excited, my voice usually gets louder, but that day was not the same. I was so moved and the adrenalin rush overwhelmed me that I fell silent. I held my breath when he dealt the final Prominence Burn. Not only it ignited the Nomu but my heart as well. My fear of him melted away and left only admiration. I thought I forgot how to cry, but apparently not. I was so grateful and honored that I witnessed the fight.

______________________________________

The flame he torched me with almost wavered against the appearance of Dabi. When he confessed about his domestic violence, it put me straight next to my mom and hoped Endeavor would come to say that's a lie. But I was wrong.

What he did in front of the press turned my wavering admiration into something unchangeable.

He admitted what he did. He didn't run away or look away from the deeds of the past. And as he declared, he kept doing his job to save despite how many people thew stones at him. He was not just a hero but an "adult" who is mature enough to face his past. It gave a chill through my whole spine.

For all my life, I didn't see anyone who did that. He was the first.

My mom never came back to admit she did wrong.

There are countless people out there in the world who say big words and no actions.

But he did. He faced his past and admitted his past actions, with willing eyes to make it better.

Without knowing, I had a believe that people never change. It hindered me time and again when I work my way as a hero because I didn't have the prettiest past. But Endeavor proved it. He became a living testament that people CAN change, and the important thing is to learn from the mistake rather than not making it at all.

The gladness swept through me. I chose the "right" fire to follow in the darkness like a lighthouse.

[ihavetoomuchhomeworkforthis]

(TLDR at the bottom)

So far, my gender journey or whatever you call it hasn't really felt normal. There hasn't been any moment of realization, no, "I've always knew" and there wasn't any feeling of everything clicking into place when I found the right word. None of the labels really seem perfect, many of them seem okay. I should maybe start at the beginning.

In kindergarten-1st-2nd I never really wanted to play with the girls at recess. We sort of automatically separated ourselves by gender, and the girls always seemed too, well, "girly," so I often tried to play with the boys instead, even though I didn't get to participate that much. My best friends were two guys and a girl who I somehow deemed less girly than the rest. When I was 5, I asked to get my hair cut really short. It ended up being a bob instead of boyish like I was probably hoping for, and we donated the hair that was cut off.

In 3rd grade we moved, my hair had grown back out, and I started telling everyone I was a boy all the time. When they didn't believe me, I'd mention that one time I saw this old guy at church who had long hair in a ponytail, so that meant guys could have long hair too. One time I was sitting with a couple guys and one of them asked if I was a boy, why did I use the girl's bathroom? And if I had been more self confident I might have been able to explain that nobody believed me, and I'd never told any teachers, and there were security cameras outside the bathrooms, and besides, it was just habit. Once, during gym, I asked to use the bathroom and went into the boy's bathroom instead. It wasn't that different, just the stalls were a different color, and probably there were urinals also, I don't remember. Thankfully nobody was in there, so I just used the bathroom and went back to gym. I sort of gave up telling everyone I was a boy all the time in 4th and 5th, and I wasn't really good friends with anyone except maybe one boy. I was determined to hate the school because it wasn't my old school, and I had really liked my old school.

Skip to 6th and 7th, and I had a school chromebook, which I used to discover the concept of "lgbtq" and do a bunch of "am I trans" type of online quizzes. My best friend in 6th was a girl, and in 7th we drifted apart because she had sports, so my best friend was then a boy in band who was the only other 7th grade horn player.

For 8th we moved again, and before moving, I decided I wanted my hair cut really short again, to show up at my new school looking like a boy, if that were possible. So my mom actually did cut my hair that short, and we donated it again, and I went into 8th grade with short hair and awkward bangs which were difficult to avoid letting fall into a middle part. My automatic new best friend was the only other new person in 8th grade. We were nothing alike, but the whole year I sort of felt stuck with them. They tried new names and pronouns every couple months, and when I mentioned not really feeling like a girl (sort of obvious from the boyish haircut) they wanted to help me find the right name and pronouns and label as well. I hadn't actually hated my name, and I wasn't really ready to try to find the perfect label, but we ended up trying Kai they/them, and Ashe he/him, both of which never felt quite right. Halfway through the year they adopted people into our friendship and I was shy so I became such a third wheel that I may as well not have been there, but it felt wrong to leave them, and I didn't know anyone else very well. I started talking to my mom about these things and she's loving and supportive thankfully, but she didn't quite agree with any of it, or the idea of finding labels, because "we're all just people," and she's right maybe, but the different perspective on things was confusing.

9th (and 10th so far) I didn't really make any "best" friends. I put both they/them and she/her on the beginning of year get to know you papers, and wrote that my name was fine but I wished I could find one that felt less feminine, and that they could shorten it however they wanted. I thought if I had been born a boy, I might want to be a girl, and I might like to wear dresses and make-up. I started thinking maybe I was cis after all, and maybe I was just attention-seeking, which was an oddly disappointing thought, and seemed backwards from the "normal" experience. Then again, if I were cis, would I be spending so much time thinking about it? I'm okay with being a girl, but I don't really feel like I fit perfectly in that box, and I wouldn't mind being a boy instead, but I think I'd feel just as much of a misfit there, too. I don't hate my breasts, they're pretty small anyway, and when I wear feminine clothing (rarely) it looks nice (because girly clothes are designed to look nice on a girly shape), but if I was magically flat-chested one day I don't think I'd mind at all. The summer that I cut my hair (I've grown it back out since then), I tried to dress as masculine as I could so I'd be percieved as male on the playground by my grandparent's house, and it worked, and there have been a couple times that people thought I was a boy or just couldn't tell, but was that actually really cool and exciting, or was I making it up and just telling myself that I enjoyed being mistaken for a guy because I wanted to fit in with the idea of what being trans was based on the online quizzes and stuff?

I also started wondering about sexuality, and feeling the same weird backwards disappointment about possibly being straight, and wondering if it was strange not to have had a real crush yet, with the exception of a strange obsession with a guy in 2nd grade. I think maybe if I'm attracted to anything at all, it would be androgyny. Girls with short hair, boys with longer hair, girls with muscles and masculine features, guys who have more feminine features and maybe wear make-up or nail polish, people who are completely androgynous. Some girls are pretty and some boys are pretty too. Is that okay, or am I just picky and that's why I haven't had a "real" crush yet, or am I deluding myself? What does it even mean to have a crush? Have I had crushes other than just the guy in 2nd grade and I've just been too socially awkward to realize or do anything about it? Or do I just not experience romantic attraction, only ...aesthetic attraction for lack of a better phrase? And am I a girl or not really?

I don't know and gender and sexuality are confusing and I'm still very much questioning and maybe I always will be.

TLDR: I don't understand my gender or sexuality and it's all very confusing please help haha

[mrbottomhat69]

This may be me rambling about nothing, but for the longest time I've been deeply obsessed with The Nutcracker for no other reason than long exposure. People have labeled it "baby's first ballet" because the music is incredibly well-known, the plot is barely there, and it's something you can take your kids to without them probably getting bored. They're right, of course, but my obsession managed to run deeper due to adaptations like the Tom and Jerry movie.

My first time performing in a production of The Nutcracker was one the dance studio I attended was putting on at the local elementary school auditorium. It was a low-key production that was tradition for the five or so years before I joined. The performance was cut down to be about an hour or so including intermission and was a ballet-jazz fusion. What role you were given was based mostly on age and if you could fit in the provided costumes. Little kids were flowers, the rare boys in the performance were designated to be toy soldiers for one number and could hang out until the curtain call, and the older girls closer to graduating high school were more likely to be main characters and lead dancers. Between-age girls like me were shoved into ensemble dancers. For the three years I've been in, I was a party guest and a snowflake. The first two years had me as a Chinese dancer and only during my third year was I one of the older flower dancers that helped guide the little kids. I couldn't be a lead dancer until my second year. The third year was when everything kinda collapsed.

I've been dancing with the studio since I was in kindergarten, switching genres every couple of years until eventually settling on doing tap from 6th to 12th grade. Usually, though, I did two classes a year. I knew a lot of the main dancer girls because they were in my other classes, but I also knew they were a lot more experienced than me. I stopped doing ballet, jazz, hip hop, and contemporary once I started puberty and my butt grew in, causing me to have trouble doing splits and lifting my legs as high as the other girls. I had the same teacher for most classes and she knew I was struggling with this. During my third Nutcracker performance, I learned 1) we were doing two performances that year, 2) the second performance would be at the local retirement home and only consisting of the second act but everyone had to be there (more on this in a bit), 3) I wouldn't do the flower dance during the second performance because they only had two costumes but three people qualified to do the number (technically, I was an understudy), and 4) I was listed as an understudy Spanish and Russian dancer (which involved a lot of splits and high kicks in heels) without my knowledge until the teacher called my mom the day of practice asking why I wasn't there.

The performance at the elementary school (which was mostly for parents and family members of dancers because the school was closed for students during that time) went well enough despite having a tight cast due to the teacher's favorite dancers graduating the year prior. The performance at the retirement home was mostly for the residents and the few parents that attended and didn't do as well. Because I wasn't a flower dancer during this performance, I didn't understand why I had to be there. Other younger kids, most of which played toys or elves that only appeared in the first act, were there as well and got to sit in front of the stage and move from one end of the other between numbers. When I, in my snowflake costume, asked the teacher if I was supposed to go with them, she said I was only supposed to come on during the curtain call. So I waited, watched everyone else dance from the room that was designated as the backstage, and took a bow during the curtain call. The elderly folks had to have noticed there wasn't a snowflake on stage until that point. I curtsied in front of an audience after 30 minutes of doing nothing. I curtsied for nothing because I was told to. I didn't know that this would be our last Nutcracker performance ever.

I think the teacher was embarrassed of me because of my body. Most of the girls were considered "skinny" or at least "athletic-looking" and the ones that weren't had a more rectangular build or were still able to do walkovers or forward rolls while touching their toes to their head. I, meanwhile, had visible boobs, butt, and a vague hourglass figure that just kind of happened once puberty started. I didn't fit the mold and it kept me from being anything beyond an ensemble member except on two rare occasions that only count because of what we were doing and how few people were involved.

Later in the month, I saw a production of The Nutcracker the city ballet was holding and I think I cried once we got back.

This ballet is only my favorite because of the music, tbh. I like to imagine what could've been.

[lorbanery]

I realize that my experience is different from most people's because save for pre-K and college I went entirely to Catholic school.

But honestly? being a "gifted kid" actually meant that I got less support. Like I think a lot of people are misconstruing encouragement and praise for "support". I certainly got a lot of praise. I was told how smart I was, how good at reading I was, how creative I was, I was praised for getting good grades, even when they weren't quite as high as as my siblings'.

But being, allegedly, just "naturally smart", meant that ... I didn't need to learn how to study. It meant that, when I, a kid with undiagnosed ADHD, couldn't just sit down and reread my own notes, or dry as fuck text books, it didn't matter so much early on because the information I was being tested on was pretty basic and, for me, easily retained from when I'd learned it in class.

But once it started being more complicated? Once I couldn't excel without reviewing the information? Once I got old enough that teachers stopped largely using Activities and Props to teach lessons and switched to plain lectures? I stopped excelling. And because I was "naturally smart", the assumption from my teachers and parent wasn't that maybe there's something wrong, it was "she's being lazy".

All they knew was that my grades were getting worse so they assumed that I was doing something different. I knew that I wasn't actually doing anything different, and if they ever asked me about it, I told them that , that I didn't know what was wrong. But instead of investigating that further, because this was the height of "ADD/ADHD isn't real and doctors are handing out ritalin like candy because they're getting kickbacks from the pharma companies"; because the face of childhood ADHD was hyperactive little boys who couldn't sit still for love or money and I was a little girl who'd rather be reading than just about anything else. Instead of considering that maybe my best and only friend — in a school I'd been bullied in constantly from literally my very first day of kindergarten for six years at that point — moving to another country might have affected how engaged I was in school and attempted in any way to address that.

Instead of seeing my falling grades as a symptom of a larger issue or issues and attempting to identify and find a resolution for those issues? I was just called lazy and told I wasn't doing enough work. I wasn't paying enough attention.

Which, shockingly, didn't help!

Every time I made an effort, it either came with the same result; or, if I did manage to get a better grade, it was just used as proof that I could obviously do better, that I had just been being lazy, and so why wasn't I just doing it all the time and for all the rest of my classes? I was never given praise again that didn't act as a way to shame me for my other failings, my previous failings. Every bit of praise was qualified. I was only being praised for doing well because previously I had done so badly. This got worse as I got to high school and I stopped studying and doing schoolwork at home altogether because every time I was seen doing schoolwork, it was always commented on and inevitably used as more punishment or heavily qualified praise. "You see what happens when you actually try?"

When SAT's started looming and my grades were still bad and my pre-SAT score was 200 points lower than my older brother's and 10 points lower than the magic "any state school will accept you" threshold, my mom finally started making noises towards getting me help. But at that point I'd been told so much that I was "naturally smart" and that my only problem was that I was being lazy that I abjectly refused to let her hire a tutor. It was shameful. Only stupid kids need tutors, and I wasn't a stupid kid, I was just lazy and not living up to my potential.

The only reason I eventually agreed was because my math teacher that year was so bad that even my mom agreed that my bad grades weren't entirely my fault.

But my point is that I was conditioned into believe that I didn't need help, that my failures in school were the result of my own laziness, that that kind of help wasn't for someone like me, that help like that was shameful. And, crucially, it took almost a decade for anyone to even consider that I might need and benefit from outside help.

Being a "gifted kid" didn't give me support. It took support away that I might have otherwise gotten. It told me that I didn't need it in the same breath it was telling me that I was getting bad grades because I'd suddenly become a lazy little asshole in 5th grade.

It denied me understanding and empathy and general interest in what was going on with me by my mom and teachers.

ohhhhh I get it now. the "gifted kid" discourse exists because people see it fundamentally as a sign of Privilege and not as a largely meaningless category that puffs up weird children before setting them up for the same unremarkable lives as everyone else; thus they interpret people going "the educational system gave me false expectations before ultimately abandoning me to the same heartless world as everyone else" as "why am I, The Main Character, not getting everything I ever wanted."

[yourlocalsonia2]

A little rant mainly about gen z

The rant is under the cut bc it's long. Btw there are some parts where I talk about my gen alpha siblings

I was born in gen z and one of the last years of it (luckily I am not gen alpha). When I was a child I didn't get a ipad with useless video content on it shoved in my face. I used to watch shows on the TV like Dora the Explorer, Team Umi Zoomi, Bubble Guppies, Little Einsteins, Veggietales, and some others I forgot. I didn't watch TikToks or even have YouTube until I was around 8 years old. I remember when I was in kindergarten my grandma would read me books, my dad would tell made up stories about princesses and adventures, my mom would take me places and we would have fun when i was with her. I've been seeing stuff where parents wouldn't help their kid's school work, not motoring what they are consuming on the internet and most kids now can barely READ. Maybe for some families it's hard to pay attention to their kids because of how much work they have or it's just a one parent household (like mine). But even though in my household, my dad works until 6pm and he is the main parental figure in my life. He still had time to help me with homework, read stories and watch movies with me. I'll hear stories about how kids can barely read these days, when I was first grade I remember getting an award for being the best reader (idk why I got it). I've been in an advanced ELA/English class since 5th grade and currently reading books in a college level with my classmates. When I was younger I wanted to be a soccer player, actor, detective and an artist. I've been hearing that kids want to be influencers and not wanting to go to college. Sure, I've had a time when I wanted to become a influencer but currently I actually want to go to college and I want to become a forensic scientist. Also I've heard people talking about kids being little bitches and parents not caring or going on the child's side. When I was younger I wasn't spanked or had any physical punishment but I had time out or getting something taken away and I still listened to my parents and still had moments where I was afraid of my parents. The difference I see for this is between myself and my younger siblings, my siblings are 8 and 11 years younger than me. They both were born after my mother got remarried, her way of discipline is spanking, yelling and taking things away from my siblings. The same is with my stepdad, even though they both have that way of discipline they still have their moments of gentleness as parents. My brother was born a few years before covid and today he does have a ipad but be barley used it. And if he wants it, he needs to help with chores or something like that. He has ADHD, sensory disorders and has a hard time with talking. He is such a smart kid, I taught him all of his colors in 2 days. He can read so well for his age even though he has those mental disorders. My younger sister is a bit more a part of the gen alpha sterotype. My mom has told me stories about how my sister will punch kids and teachers in her class (she is 2 though so she still has time for her mind to develop). But the difference with most parents is that my mom and I will make her stop hitting people and telling her "No. You don't hit people".

My hands hurt and I'll probably make a part 2

[boopjuice]

So, I just got reminded of how shitty it is not to have a permanent or stable home, and that means I'm going to be ranting! At 3:40 a.m.

The first place a remember living is not the house I was born in. I was born in Texas. My first memory, when I was about two years old, took place in Eastern Nebraska.

Again, I was two at that time.

I have a few memories in that house. I know I had a dog, a black lab that I loved to death. The kitchen was eggplant purple. We had a big backyard, where I'd throw pinecones at the tree hoping to make green dust (dried moss or some such) rain down. I know my curtains were purple with galaxies in them. I know we had a basement that served as Dad's office, that there was a DVD/VHS player down there, that we owned Lady and the Tramp but the VHS was broken so I couldn't watch it.

We moved when I was four, and we had to give away my dog. I can't remember anything hurting so much before then. I know I watched the pickup truck that had my dog in it drive away with people on the back waving to us, and I didn't understand how they could be so happy.

We went to California, and that was my first experience with school. If been being taught at home and could already read when I got to the Kindergarten/1st grade mixed class. I was excited to be there, happy, did all the 1st grade classwork even though I wasn't at the time really old enough to be in Kindergarten. It might have been a reason I was bullied so much. It might have also been that I was just a small kid.

I was confused when I was pulled out. I didn't know the teaching was bad, and no one explained it to me until later. It took me weeks to figure out that my dad wouldn't just give me the answers to my work like my teacher had done. That I had to actually solve things.

During this time, we lived in an older house. I stayed there from ages 4 to 6, and barely ever saw my mother. She was too busy studying for tests so she could promote. She was in the military, as my dad had been and as I once wanted to be. I didn't understand why she was never around, barely getting to spend time with her at all.

By the time my brother was born I had barely ever gotten her attention and time. I was six when he was born, and we moved into a newer house that did t have spiders in the corners and had an actual park.

My homeschooling continued, as did my lack of positive attention. My dad never seemed to have anything good to say about my progress, and though I did get rewards for completing math speed tests it was never what I wanted.

He told me one time, when I was seven, that he was proud of me. It was because I had solved a multiplication problem in my head for the first time. I spent 7 years trying to get him to say it again.

We lived in that house three or so years, during which time I got a younger sister and even less attention. All of it went to caring for them, and I did my best to help. I loved them and wanted to be of help, not just because it felt like the only way to get my family's approval.

Mom was still isolated, barely giving attention to the kids and leaving Dad to care for us. I know she regrets it now, but the damage is already done. Dad was stressed, unfairly so I'll admit, and he took it out on us equally unfairly.

Constantly switching moods. Withdrawing into videogames and TV shows. Flipping between a behavior being tolerable and deliberately obnoxious.

I had an escape, for the three years we were in that house. There was a park right across the street, the lifeblood if the neighborhood. Every day, kids would hang out there and play. We were all military families, and I made it my mission to welcome everyone to the playground. When someone had to leave, I tried to make a small gift for them to say goodbye and tried to play with them all of their last day.

When it came time for me to leave, no one did the same.

I was eight. I had tried to play with the only two kids at the park that day, both of whom I thought of as friends, and they both shunned me. Maybe it was their way of coping, or maybe I was just really annoying. But I promised myself I would never make friends again. I didn't want the time to come where I had to say goodbye and have that happen again.

We spent 6 months in Nebraska again. It was only supposed to be 2, but the military had other plans. We spent most of it in an apartment, living out of suitcases and buying what we needed. I shared a room with my two-going-on-three year old brother. My younger sister got her own room because she screamed so loud.

That was when I was introduced to co-op groups. Parents getting together to organize learning for the their homeschooled kids. My dad enrolled me in a science event, and we'd go once a week. He also took me to swim lessons with the same regularity. I didn't leave the apartment other than that unless he was taking everyone somewhere. I learned to live grocery shopping, one of the regular excuses to leave the apartment.

Mom was still barely around, but she would at least be a regular part of dinner. She'd sit with us and eat and chat, but then it would be right back to doing work things and us kids had to leave her alone.

We moved overseas after those six months. I was nine, my brother was three, my sister was a year and a week. We moved three times in six years, while we were there, and that's where everything started to get worse.

We had to live in temporary housing for a while, and all five of us crammed into a tiny space barely meant for four and lived like that for weeks until we found a house. Withing the first week, my brother hit his head jumping between beds, following my lead. I blamed myself, and so did my parents, but for different reasons.

I couldn't forgive myself if my brother was hurt because of my bad example. My mom thought the same. My dad couldn't forgive me for getting us on a list of families to watch for signs of physical abuse.

Our first real house was full of spiders, and snails and slugs got into the house a lot too. I tried again in public school, and once again the teaching was not up to my parent's standards. While bullying again played into me being removed from the school, it was far from the primary reason.

We left that house after a year, moving to a bigger one we were told could be rented for several years. We were lied to, having to leave right around summer after spending barely 6 months in that house.

That was when my relationship with my dad became rough. Since the first house Mom had begun deploying or flying every other day. When she was home she kept odd hours, never being awake when everyone else was and we rarely saw her due to her long rests before flights. When she was gone we would go months without seeing her, only talking to her on video calls that seldom let me speak to her for extended periods of time, with the kids and Dad monopolizing the time with her. Dad was the only person to care for us for months at time. It had happened when I was young, still in Nebraska, but one child is very different from three and the stress got worse for him.

That was around the time I learned I had to always be walking on eggshells, because I never knew how he was going to wake up feeling. I was 10 when I learned that I always had to be good, that I had to try and keep the younger two good too. Although he'd never hit us, Dad was still big compared to all of us, and if he lost it there'd be more than just a bruise to cover up. I didn't even know about the list at that point.

When we made it to our final house we started participating in another co-op group. Several families had joined together in our area, setting up different activities for their kids every day. At first we only participated in a few, mostly the Wednesday ones. We had martial arts in Thursdays as well, and that seemed to be enough running around for Dad. At first.

As time went on, we went to more and more things. Monday gymnastics for the younger two. I was too old. Wednesday the Sports club and sometimes science after. I was the oldest there. Thursdays would sometimes have French or Cooking clubs in addition to martial arts.

If I wasn't part of an activity, I was left home. I was fine with it. I knew how to cook the food in the pantry, and I'd rather be alone than worry about Dad getting angry, but I was brought with for as much as possible. I was the oldest of everyone, and barely socialized with the other kids who I had very little in common with. I made a friend or two, but they were in the same boat as me.

When we weren't out for activities we were home. I was old enough to watch the younger two if Dad needed a walk or to go grocery shopping or something else. So I watched the kids, getting up in the morning to take care of their breakfast and often times making their lunch too. Dad could cook the meals we usually ate, but hated cooking. He burned several lunches to the bottoms of pans he'd later have to wash because he wouldn't stir them, but would expect us to eat the burned parts anyways. I think he just wanted an easy out so he didn't have to cook.

His teaching was also as great as ever. He taught all of us to read, and then gave us workbooks to teach ourselves. As useful a skill as both of those were, it was still damaging. He would scream at my younger sister, who didn't pick up reading as quickly as my brother or I. He would scream at my brother and I over math problems we didn't understand, giving the same explanations to problems over and over no matter how much we said we didn't understand.

I learned that I would rather have a mental breakdown at the peace of my desk where it was easy to walk in on my crying in frustration than to go to Dad for help. I learned how to sneak answers from his answer books when he wasn't in his office so I wouldn't have to ask him for help.

I learned he couldn't be trusted to keep us safe.

He was sick once, and a friend brought over soup. We were all excited that someone had visited, as Dad being sick meant no leaving the house, minimal supervision, and me taking care of everyone as best I could as a twelve year old.

He screamed at us, in front of the family friend, so badly the kids were crying. We hadn't done our chores, clearing the table and wiping it down and whatnot. That night both my siblings admitted to fearing for their life when Dad got angry.

A while later I brought it up. It wasn't more than a few weeks later, the kids were in bed, and Dad and I were in the living room. He didn't seem to care at all about that worry, claiming he would rather have our fear than our love.

We'd listen if we were afraid.

Then he could protect us, he reasoned. If he said stop, we would. It would keep us from running out in the street, or playing with knives, other things.

I decided that night I would not be afraid of him anymore.

We started to fight more. I would stand up for myself, or the kids, and he would start to yell and I finally began to yell back on occasion.

But then the Twins were born. It was the longest period of time I had seen Mom in years, and I cherished every dinner she got to be a part of. She still worked, when she was pregnant, but she didn't fly. Didn't deploy. Didn't leave us alone with Dad 24/7.

She took every day of maternity leave they gave her and spent the time caring for the twins, teaching herself and Dad how to care for two newborns at once. She was better at it than Dad.

Once she went back to work, he would leave them in the living room alone for hours at a time, only really interacting with them to feed them or put them to nap. I was often the one changing them, though he did that too. He also did the midnight feeds, though Mom was there with him.

He expected the twins to act like the rest of us, mostly quiet and only occasionally bothering him if we had no other choice. But newborns don't act like that. They scream and cry and need constant attention in order to properly grow. I watched him spank one of them at barely a few weeks old because they wouldn't stop crying for attention. They only cried harder.

After three or four months Mom deployed again. It was one of the few she could have opted out of. She would miss the Twin's first birthday. She went anyway. She cried on my shoulder the night before she left, not wanting to leave the Twins but still feeling the need to put her job over her family.

By this point I was 13, going to Sports Club, the occasional French or Cooking club, and martial arts. The kids had something every day, so Dad took them and left me with the twins. I would do as much school in the living room as possible so I could play with them, watch them, give them needed attention.

I fed them in the mornings alongside my brother, now 7. On days I didn't leave, I'd feed them their lunch then make lunch for myself and the kids, even though they weren't home yet. They often wouldn't get back until after lunch, but I still had to make their food.

Once Dad got back I couldn't do school in the living room, so I'd do it at my desk. I wouldn't go to him for help, and I'd help the kids with school when I could. I tried my best to be good, to not be afraid of Dad, hoping that maybe if I was good and didn't give him fear, he would start to give me live in return.

We left that house after four years, finally moving back to the States. The twins were two, and nothing had really changed. I had developed a phobia on needles while overseas, one Dad had both ridiculed and said he understood. He held me down to get shots so I could attend high school, but didn't think to get me mental help.

It was the first time I was socializing without my family around me, and I was vastly out of my depth. I was awkward and nervous, at first refusing to swear thinking that my dad would somehow find out and punish me. But I started forming my own ideas, thinking and living away from him, and it made the fights worse.

At first it was little things, like if a word was real or not or had the meaning it was used with. As I spent more time in high school, they got worse.

I started telling back at him more when he yelled at me over the years, fighting with him over things we agreed on but that neither of us had the communication skills to express agreement on. Fighting about how he treated me. The whole time I waited for him to hit me, practically begged for it so it wouldn't feel like all this shit piling up wasn't in my head.

I broke in junior year.

He thought I had to get a flu shot, confronted me about it the day he knew. I had a special schooling arrangement where I would spend half the day at the high school and the other half at the hospital with a brief time in between for lunch and changing into my hospital uniform.

He brought it up as I was sitting down to eat, and I immediately lost my appetite and stood back up. He demanded I sit back down and eat, that I stop being so dramatic. I didn't budge.

He told me about needing the shit, and I started panicking. He told me I could get it at the base hospital or at the hospital I went to every day. Demanded I make a choice right then.

I asked for more time, until the end of the school day at the earliest, but he refused. I started trying to be good, trying to weigh the two options in my head. I was already stressed from needing to choose.

So the phantom smell of the base hospital was enough to trigger a panic attack.

I backed into the kitchen, circling towards the pantry as Dad was advancing. I begged him to back away, to give me space. He refused. I couldn't get a full breath in, and I tried to tell him through gasps. I couldn't even get out more than "I can't-" but he knew what I was trying to say.

He called me pathetic for it.

When my back finally hit the pantry door I slid down, the hinges scratching my back as I went, still gasping for breath, still begging for help, space, anything.

Still being ridiculed, insulted, demeaned.

It was around thirty minutes of screaming and crying before I finally managed to say that I wanted to go to my hospital to get the shot. He mocked me, saying that it wasn't such a hard decision to make. Told me how selfish I was for making the twins see me like that. Said that if we hurried we could still get to the hospital in time for me to not be late.

He apologized that evening after school, but I don't remember what I said. I don't know if I told him I forgave him or not, but if I did it was a lie.

I stopped trying to live him after that.

The fights got worse, as I started to call him out on his bullshit treatment of me and the kids. Mom was still deploying, though not as often and not as long. It still bred fighting. Screaming matches that could be heard anywhere in the house. Quiet fights that somehow were worse.

He blew up at one of the twins, once. My youngest brother. He'd been acting up all day, but screaming at a four year old is over the top. I didn't want to watch a movie with the family that night and got called selfish for not wanting to spend an unnecessary moment in the same room as someone I was beginning to loathe. Family movie nights were always a gamble after that, the perfect place to start fights or ignore each other.

So here I am, at 5:15 a.m., ranting about my life two months before I graduate high school. I'm about to lose everything again, but this time it really is everything. I have basically no social network because I spent so long all over the place and had most of my social life strictly controlled by when Dad felt like taking us out. I'm exhausted, and regretting not standing up for myself sooner. I think my Dad's hitting my dog, that it's only a matter of time before it's the kids or maybe even Mom, and I haven't slept all night.

I've never had one place that's home. Sometimes I wake up and don't know where I am for a second. I have an emotional dependence on fictional characters, and I'm so used to trying to do everything I can and do it as well as humanly possible that I overwork myself, know I overwork myself, and can't bear to stop because some part of me thinks it means I've failed. I'm damn near sure I have ADHD, likely have anxiety, have migraines and cramps that prevent me from walking or functioning at all, really, and I really need to cry but can't ever seem to find the time.

I'm fucked. I don't want to be here doing this, and part of me wants to succeed and cut ties with my parents and another wants me to fail horribly and refuse their help to spite them. I still love my Mom, but part of me resents her for not only not being there for me but for unintentionally enabling Dad to act the way he does and not trying to fix it.

I'm so used to being a parent that my you gest two siblings aren't even my siblings in my head, they're my kids. And my mom and dad try to get on me about parenting them when they're right there, but it's not like they ever stepped up before and I'm not about to trust them to do it now.

I hoped I'd be able to get Dad to change so that the kids could grow up without the same bullshit I dealt with, and I'm some ways they won't. They'll be public schooled most of their lives, Dad won't have as much interaction with them, etc. But he's also getting more aggressive and angry and I'm worried that diminished time won't decrease the danger. I don't want the kids growing up afraid Dad's going to actually hit them and have historical evidence that it's a possibility.

I guess I really wish I could have had a home. One place, where I grew up, went to school, came home to every day, and didn't wonder when I'd have to leave. Maybe then Dad wouldn't have been so stressed, Mom would have been there for me more, and I wouldn't spend every day trying so damn hard because I'm afraid that if I don't I'll get yelled at.

I just want a do over.

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

🕯Anon said: just wanna say I adore your writing and how you write Reiner and the kids and the other warriors is my favourite thing ever !! I just wanna give them all hugs :) do u have any hcs for the types of jobs you see them all doing in modernverse ?🕯

The types of jobs they have in modern au

{Annie, Bertolt, Colt, Marcel, Pieck, Porco, Reiner, Zeke, }

{Implied Reiner x reader}

{ "Porto" 1935 by Renato Natali 1883-1979 }

Annie is an Animal rescue worker.

Having had experience as a dog trainer before, it wasn't hard to find a full time job at her local shelter after graduating high school, having volunteered there before.

With time, effort and a lot of energy she made her way into the position of "animal control officer" now she spends her days busting animal's abusers doors and rescuing injured or neglected pets.

With long shifts and a high maintenance job, her time was all poured into her work. Usually she'd be exhausted after a long day.

Despite that, she's fulfilled and satisfied with her job. Not having to deal with a lot of people is a plus too, it's a hard job yes but she prefers it this way.

Her friends are bumped about not being able to see her a lot but they understand, plus she keeps in touch with them by lurking in the group chat only to send a snarky remark to stir the pot every now and then.

Bertolt sees her everyday because they work at the same animal shelter, even if their jobs are different they still walk home together, she also met some different people like Hitch and Marco at her job.

The kids love her job, they think it's badass, especially Gabi and Udo. Gabi because Annie gets to kick people in the face and Udo because he genuinely cares about animals.

She'd never tell anyone this, but part of the reason she wanted the job was because she felt guilty for her past self and wanted to fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves.

Bertolt is a veterinarian.

Having changed his mind post graduation and going to college instead of with Reiner, he graduated after 4 years of studying and is currently working with Annie at the local shelter while also planning to open his own clinic one day.

He takes some animals under his personal care for weeks or months even till they get adopted, he fears something bad will happen to the weak or ill ones if left at the shelter overnight.

Just like Annie, the job takes a lot of his time, not to mention caring for animals off of work. So he's in the same situation as her, but for the sake of his best friend he still finds time to visit and hang out once a week.

Reiner and him still text daily, it's mostly pictures Bertolt took of the animals, Annie on her break, interesting plants he finds along the way. And Reiner replies with pictures of the kids.

They still find time to play basketball together, they try to keep it a secret from Annie because she will kick their ass in it.

Bertolt is comfortable with his job, he feels like he belongs and likes being needed. Yes the long hours are a con but seeing the fruits of his labour grow and get better day by day makes it all worth it.

The kids like visiting his house because there usually will be a new dog or some animal in there every month or so, Reiner makes sure they don't bother the animals. 

Something he's never told anyone is a big part of the reason he changed his mind last minute was because Animals feel much safer and secure for him to work with than humans.

Colt is a college student working part time.

He's majoring in nursing, being a four years degree he's trying to balance his studies with work and taking care of Falco.

Zeke offered him to work full time after graduation at his clinic, since he's been working part time there for a while and the pay is good, plus it's really convenientnal.

He has worked different part time jobs in the past like a barista, flower shop assistant, tutor, kindergarten teacher, etc.

Between all his responsibilities he barely has time for himself, his courses end right before his work starts and the small bits in-between is spent on Falco and his friends. Zeke and Pieck try to take some of his responsibility but he refuses saying it's the least he could do to Falco.

He's really good at his job like multitasking, reading people, gaining their trust and having high stamina that he could stay for night shifts even.

He relies on coffee a lot.

Falco sees him as a real life superhero, they weren't that close before but after the incident he really started appreciating his big brother. 

Something he keeps inside is that despite pursuing this job because he genuinely wanted to make a difference in people's lives and help the sick, he also felt a crushing guilt after his parents passed away, and so he's trying to save other people's lives now instead.

Marcel is a pilot.

It's a dream he always had since middle school, soon after graduation he joined the military to gain enough flying hours and experience to apply to a commercial airline after taking some mathematics, aviation and some general flying courses.

He was officially hired as a pilot after getting his first class medical certificate to check his health.

His work isn't measured by hours to him but by days, he needs to be available 24/7 in case of an emergency call. Now he's working overseas and far away from his friends.

You've actually never met Marcel, only seen pictures of him and received letters. The person he keeps in touch with the most is Porco.

He likes his work, it's his dream. He doesn't like the work hours and being so absent from his friends and brother, he misses them so much at times.

Pieck is a tattoo artist.

Her shop is actually her old flower shop after she decided to change her career. She's always been good with plants and taking care of them, at that time Colt worked as her assistant. 

It wasn't till later after some years of practice and training under other artists that she was confident enough about her skills to start the project 

Her art is full of life, mesmerising and beautiful. She puts her soul in every piece and has gained a good reputation because of it, plus having really high ratings and strict hygiene rules, no health inspector could ever challenge her.

Having her own independent work meant that she has a very flexible schedule, being mostly free ment she could pursue other hobbies like gardening.

A peaceful and simple life where she can indulge in her art and be happy is all she ever wanted

Porco is a frequent customer of hers that gets a family discount, Zeke came once before and later sent his friend, a really tall and blonde woman who became her most frequent customer.

Zofia thinks her work is really cool and wants to go and just watch her do her thing, but it's frowned upon to have a kid just sitting at a tattoo shop.

Despite changing into this career, the town people still think of her as the sweet flower shop lady.

Porco is a bartender.

That job came to him by accident more than anything, he was working part time as a bouncer in a local bar but a slot was open after the old bartender suddenly quit and he gave it a chance.

He didn't expect to love it so much, neither did he know about his hidden talent in mixing drinks. So he took it as full time and changed to better bars after gaining the experience he needed.

Being naturally charismatic and good at influencing people, while also multitasking in making drinks and keeping a conversation going, he was instantly a hit in whatever place he worked at.

Working the night shift ment he's mostly free in the morning, he tries to help Pieck with her gardening and is actually attempting to grow some plants at his house.

Naturally whenever there's a gathering, he's the one mixing drinks and being the self assigned bartender who openly judges his friends for their choice in drinks. The charismatic persona being thrown out the window and replaced by a no mouth filter.

He genuinely cares tho, he's the one taking care of someone when they drink more they can handle. It's mostly Colt who underestimates his drinks and is left clinging to Porco who drives him home.

Because of his line of work, tattoos and general brash personality, the kids' parents don't like him even one bit. They're suspicious of him no matter how many times Reiner assures them he's trustworthy.

It's actually only Colt who trusts Falco with him, and maybe Zofia's mom who is at the bar every weekend. 

Reiner is a firefighter.

With his mother pushing him into this line of work, he applied for the physical and psychological exams after graduation before getting accepted. He wasn't unprepared per say but actually being in that line of work was more than he could ever prepare for.

It instantly took a great hit at his mental health, so much in fact that he was thankful Bertolt changed his mind last minute and didn't follow him in this job.

It was both everything he ever wanted, like saving people, helping children, animals and knowing it's him who saved them even if it means putting his own life at risk.

But also everything he hated, like the hunting faces and screams of the people who were far too gone for him to save, the recurring nightmares and constant guilt paired with imposter syndrome.

He works a 24/72 shift, meaning he works for a whole day before getting 3 days off. Approximately only working 7-8 days a month, not to mention unpaid leave, sick days and holidays.

So it both gave him a really tight schedule on some days and on others more free time than he knows what to do with, that's why he naturally took the main role of being the kid's caretaker. Looking after his little cousins genuinely helped him and he liked playing the big brother role.

Especially to Gabi, he was the only stable adult in her life. It's common knowledge that you call Reiner first for anything concerning her before her parents because he's more likely to answer and be available.

After meeting you, his life improved to the better as you moved in and became a trustworthy person in his life, someone he can depend on to take care of his little cousins on the days he works.

Not to mention that after you persuaded him to see a therapist, his mental health began improving too.

Gabi may or may have not committed arson at one point, she still wants to be a firefighter despite that and follow in Reiner's footsteps.

He hasn't told anyone beside you this, but he really fears for her, but doesn't have the heart to tell her no.

Zeke is a doctor.

Previously he worked in a hospital but was able to open his own clinic afterwards, Colt was a great help to him at that time when he was getting on his own feet and even worked a lot of unpaid hours.

After that he insisted Colt works an official part time job there with a much higher pay, till he graduates at least. Plus the experience will greatly improve his resume.

Zeke is brilliant at his job, he'd be a perfect doctor wasn't it for the fact he's a huge hypocrite who doesn't follow the advice he gives his patients. 

He does a side job in his free time that honestly no one of his friends know what it is, but they know it gained him a lot of connections and made new friends.

Something he always keeps buried inside was that he really never expected himself to become a doctor especially after what his dad did to his mother, and yet here he is. In some way it's like his own personal stepping stone to prove he's a better man than his father ever was.

Bonus:

Falco: middle schooler

He does volunteer work on the weekends, sometimes Udo joins him.

Doesn't want Gabi becoming a firefighter.

Likes all videogames , just all types.

Likes watching cartoons and medical shows with Colt who covers Falco eyes whenever an adult scene is on

His favourite food is chicken nuggets

Wants to try coffee

Is good at PE

Reads comic books

Likes yellow and blue

Gabi: middle schooler

Takes self defence classes and really wants to go to summer camp

Wants to be like Reiner, aspires to be as strong too.

Likes shooter videogames or really hard ones.

Likes watching Anime and cartoons

Her favourite food is Pizza

Wants to try energy drinks

Is also really good at PE and surprisingly good at puzzles.

Likes red and pink 

Udo: middle schooler

Takes music classes at the weekend, wants to go to science camp

Kinda wants to be like Reiner or an astronaut.

Likes calming videogames

Likes watching anime and Minecraft let's play

His favourite food is mac and cheese 

His favourite drink is strawberry milk

Is good at language classes and creative writing, he also just likes animals a lot.

Likes green and black

Zofia: middle schooler (could've been in a special program)

Takes music classes with Udo

Wants to be a lawyer

Likes co-op Videogames 

Likes watching true crime and youtubers drama

Her favourite food is Donuts

She likes strawberry milk and ice tea 

Is good at all classes

Likes white and purple

[lulus-shattered-life]

NEW MEMORIES UNLOCKED!!

My family was so fucked up. Was answering a question in a group about ARFID and unlocked new memories. I had forgotten about a lot of this. Here what i wrote cause I'm lazy:

Mine was caused through trauma and neglect. I don't remember much of my childhood (or much of life tbh but that's a different disorder) but i remember never really trying to eat new foods at home but being forced to do so if anyone else was around. I leaned really quick not to be 'disrespectful' in public and agreed no matter how bad i didn't want to. I vomited a lot. Sometimes mom cared and played the part of a good mom. Other times i was all alone and it would make my heart pounding and chest hurt so bad i thought i would die. I have a massive fear of vomiting now. We were also really poor so i could see her manipulating me so she could have more for herself. I was told i hate spicy foods and a lot of things that she loved. Can't say if mine caused it or was just an enabler but she didn't help that's for sure.

I kept getting flashes of food, feeling pressured, so many bathrooms, anxiety around food in general. Add in mom's obsession with weight loss and dragging me to diet club meetings it's no wonder i later developed Anorexia as well.

I took the i don't eat spicy things to the extreme and even picked out bell peppers from her meatloaf. I know i tolerate hot things because i also sucked two fingers instead of my thumb. They would put the hottest hot sauce and all sorts of things on my fingers to get me to stop.

Holy fuck new memory unlocked. Mom put super hot sauce on my fingers before getting in the car to leave. She looks back later in shock that my fingers were in my mouth. Doesn't that burn!? Yeah but only for a minute. I also just remembered when she noticed i had stopped. She asked why and i said I don't need to anymore because Lulu showed up.

I REMEMBER HAVING MY LITTLE WHEN I WAS LITTLE!!

I was 4 and i remember having my headmate! I remember being in kindergarten and the teacher along why i played by myself a lot during inside free time and i said I'm not by myself. Lulu is always here with me.

I'm so happy I'm practically bouncing up and down. Thank you Lulu. You can now have cake for breakfast 🥰

[tranquil-space-ninja]

The Story (Sanders' Sides Human AU)

Ft. Platonic Moxiety, trans Roman, Imaginality (Remus x Patton), and Emciet (Janus x Emile)

Tw: suicide, homophobia, implied abuse, transphobia, f*g said, tra**y said, bullying, anorexia

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Patton stared at his phone. He had a shift at the office in a few minutes, but he couldn't..... He didn't quite know what he couldn't do today, but he couldn't do it. He called in sick. Emile was very understanding. "Take as long as you need, Pat," he said. "Your mental health comes first."

"Thanks, Dr. Picani." He hung up and continued to stare at the message on his phone.

Unknown Number

Got ur number from Jan. How u doing?

It was him. After all these years, it was really him. And, paired with the fact that it was only a week till his brother's birthday.... The last two years of high school came rushing back.

Patton's phone chimed.

Ro's birthday is coming up.

Like Patton didn't compulsively write down the date in his calender every year. June 4. They would have been twenty-six.

I'm moving to ur area 4 work. I finally caught up 2 u.

Patton stared at his phone without really seeing the messages. Tears started to bluer his vision. He wiped them away, only for them to return with a vengeance. Finally, Patton just let himself sob, hoping to get everything out by the time Virgil got home.

***

Virgil waved to his friends as he walked to his front door. His dad's car was in the driveway, which was a surprise. Normally, he wouldn't be back until dinner. He slowly opened the door. "Dad," he asked. Patton gave Virgil a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, kiddo! How was school?"

"Okay. How are you doing? Are you sick?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just taking a mental health day. Sit down! I made popcorn. We can watch Black Cauldron."

Virgil sighed and sat down, leaning on Patton. Patton put part of his blanket around the teen and pulled him closer. He loved his son more than anything. He would not let Virgil go through the same things he did.

***

Just as Virgil was about to go to sleep, someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he called. Patton opened the door and gave him another fake smile. He sat down on the chair beside Virgil's desk.

"Can I tell you a story," Patton asked.

"I'm a little old for bedtime stories."

"Please? It's kinda boring, but.... I'll be quick. Please?" Virgil stared at his dad. He hated the desperate look in hs eyes. It was getting closer to June, which meant he'd grow quiet and a bit withdrawn. Maybe this was to preemptively make up for it?

"Sure." Virgil laid down and looked up at Patton.

"Thanks, Virge," he said with a slightly more real, relieved smile. "Let me tell you a story about six boys growing up in Florida."

***

Logan Crofters, Roman and Remus Ryan, Janus Pine, Emile Picani, and Patton Hart. They had been best friends since kindergarten. They were all inseparable. Things got worse in middle school when Roman came out as trans. His parents refused to let him transition or cut his hair, and the other kids were less than supportive. Remus let him wear his clothes, though, and his friends all defended him when they could. And they all survived until high school.

Fast foreward to sophmore year. Logan was on the fast track to becoming valedictorian. The other kids, in addition to whispering, "Fag," and, "Tranny," at them all in the halls, taunted Logan for his intelligence. Remus and Janus got into fights often to protect the others. Patton and Emile tried to keep the group's moral up. Logan and Roman always took it all harder than the others, but they had one teacher, Mr. Sanders, who let them eat lunch in his classroom and used Roman's proper pronouns. He even congratulated Patton and Remus when they started dating. He'd always pair up Janus and Emile for group projects, just to watch them flirt.

Patton, Roman, and Remus's parents passed around a petition to get him fired the next year. It was successful. That was the year everything fell apart.

Roman and Logan couldn't handle the pressure that came with the grades and the bullying. They always said they were fine, but....

One day, Logan quit his job at the library. Said it just wasn't worth it anymore. Roman stopped eating and always brushed his friends off when they begged him to try.

They died the same night. June 4, Roman's birthday. Roman overdosed on antidepressants. Janus, Remus, Emile, and Patton read his note over and over again.

Dear Friends,

I want to start by saying this isn't your fault. Remus, you were the most amazing, supportive brother anyone could ask for. Patton, Janus, Emile, Logan, you are all wonderful and perfect, and you all deserve the world. But.... I can't do this anymore. I can't live in this body one more day or hear someone call me Rachel one more time. I just can't do it. I love you all so much. Please don't dwell on this for too long. I want you all to be happy, okay?

Mom, Dad, I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you wanted me to be. I wish I could have been as good a son as Remus was. I wish you could have loved me as much as he did.

And, Mr. Sanders, if you ever see this.... Thank you. For everything.

Adeiu, best of friends and best of men,

Roman

Logan hung himself. He didn't leave a note. His parents at least gave him a funeral. Roman's parents didn't care enough to even do that.

Luckily, Remus, Janus, Emile, and Patton had saved enough from their various jobs to have him cremated. Emile's parents insisted on helping out, which helped a lot.

The group burried Roman's urn just outside the cemetery where Logan rested. Luckily, his grave was at the edge of the gate so Roman's could be near his. Remus painted a large rock to use as a marker. They all stood by the small grave, Janus holding Emile and Patton and Remus squeezing each other's hands, until the sun rose.

Patton stayed with Remus after Janus and Emile left.

"I can't stay here anymore," Remus had whispered. "I can't stay with the people who killed my brother."

"I know," Patton whispered. "I hate our parents." He brushed back his bangs to show Remus a black eye and a bruised cheek. "If we save enough, we'll run away together," he promised. "We'll get Janus and Emile, and we'll all go to Massachusetts, and we'll get married." Remus nodded.

"I like that." He gently pulled Patton close, and they shared a long, sweet kiss.

Things didn't work out. Senior year was worse. Janus, Emile, Patton, and Remus were the gays who were friends with the two who killed themselves, and that's all anyone ever treated them as. Janus's parents took him and moved to Delaware. He and Emile stayed in touch for a few months before the lost contact. Janus and Patton still talked occasionally, though, even after high school. Emile, Patton, and Remus stuck together, but things would never be the same.

When senior year ended, Patton and Emile prepared to move to Massachusetts, but Remus wouldn't go.

"Please," Patton begged. "We found a cute apartment in Salem. We can start over. We can get jobs while Emile is at school. We can build our own lives. Please come with us." Remus shook his head.

"I can't," he said. "It's only been a year since they died. I just can't leave them yet." Patton hugged him tightly.

"Keep in touch," he asked. Remus nodded and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Over the next few years, Patton kept in touch with Remus. Every year, he said he would finally move in with him, and every year, he had an excuse not to. Eventually, they stopped talking as much, and when Patton changed his number, he forgot to tell Remus.

***

"He and Emile stayed together, though," Patton finished. "Patton became Emile's receptionist when he started practicing independently."

"What about Janus and Remus," Virgil asked.

"Janus is still in Delaware, and I guess Remus is with him." Virgil nodded. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Patton had just told him his life story. He just wasn't going to press any further than that. Maybe someday, Patton would tell him more, but it was almost the day his friends killed themselves. Patton needed time.

***

The next day, Patton went back to work. Larry and Dot were happy to see him. When their appointment was almost over, another patient entered the waiting room and walked up to Patton's desk. "Hey," he said, head tilted down. His voice was low and familiar.

"Hi! Do you have an appointment?"

"N-no. I just moved here and was hoping I could set one up."

"Okay.... Dr. Picani is with a patient right now, but-- Remus?" Remus was staring at Patton, a sad frown accepting his dull eyes. "L-like I was saying, Emile--"

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" Patton began to fiddle with a pen. "You could have just said you didn't want to see me. I get it. I probably remind you of Ro and Logan, and that's fine. I failed you and I put off moving even though I said I would, and I understand that you're mad, and it's okay. But--"

"I wanted to see you." Remus stared at Patton, who stared right back.

"What?"

"I wanted to see you, but I couldn't say it. It's just so close to Roman's birthday, and I didn't know what to do or what to tell my son--"

"You have a son?" Patton nodded, tears in his eyes.

"I adopted him five years ago. His name is Virgil. He's funny, he's dark, and strange and sarcastic, and I love him more than anything."

"Boyfriend or husband?"

"Single dad and rockin' it." Remus laughed despite the tears that were escaping his eyes. Patton laughed with him, also crying. "I'm sorry. For everything," he sobbed. Remus took his hand.

"Me too." And that's how Larry and Dot found them five minutes later.

Holding hands and crying, together again.

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