#Give Back To A Teacher

[komipacket]

AHHHH YES i hear you sobbing there

I was thinking a lot about qsmp recently so the last 9 hours i was speedrunning this comic guys im crazy im bonkers you have no idea

The audio inspiration is ellie from last of us 2 singing take on me, idk i just feel that the song is so slime vibes but at the same time can sound SO FUCKING SAD AND YOURE SOBBING LIKE CRAZY this song (take on me in general by a-ha) is basically what is like to watch slimecicle's characters imo

...I just wanna watch flipariana chilling together at eggxile and having fun waiting for flippa to be back...

[djsadbean]

entire body workout just to write "0/100... see me after class"

[blondeweasel]

I’m a 1st grade teacher and I have a boy in my class who wears thick bottle-lens glasses with a strap on them and loves to spout off random facts to anyone who will (or won’t) listen about things he watched, learned about, or read about.

The other day he came to my desk and I thought he needed help with his work but he really just wanted to tell me all about the main food source of a stegosaurus and their dietary needs.

Then last week, he was talking with his desk partner about something and I saw him raise his finger and say “actually” and I nearly died!

So basically, I have a mini-Tech in my class this year and I’m loving it!

OMG ALSO! One day his goggles glasses broke on the playground and he came in after recess with them missing a screw. So I sent him to the office (with an escort because he can’t see) so his mom can bring him a new pair and the frenzy that ensued in class from seeing him without his glasses! They were equal parts intrigued/confused/freaked out/blown away at the sight and it was hard to get them back on track after that. One girl said she hoped they could fix his glasses because he can’t really be him without them 🥲

Also I just miss Tech a lot and need him back like now!

[musubiki]

in the mood for the guilds school uniforms again 🏫

[gods-favorite-autistic]

As fun as the whole “taking away preexisting npcs so the players can actually interact with the people around that I set up” thing is I do want Ayda back. And unfortunately I am not asking 🔫🥰👍

[robots-are-kinda-hot]

coraline anomaly au stuff. mostly hands. don’t judge them, I had no reference for any of them lmao

As for the doll, I like to think that Other Reader made a Sans one originally to lure him, but then after he gets to know them better they get to know each other, Sans asked them to make one of themselves. (he may or may not cuddle with it to help him sleep. shhhh, it’s a secret.)

enjoy while I attempt to finish writing things for this au. just a small thing (that probably will uh. not be small when I’m finally done with it) for an ask and also MAYBE something to expand on how Sans got a doll of Other Reader :]

original anomaly by @htsan!

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

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

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

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

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

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

They got worse.

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

That year, he became the freak.

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

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

His tics got worse.

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

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

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

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

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

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

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

It's okay. It's okay.

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

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

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

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

Steve kisses him.

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

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

Steve just says, Mine too.

[lilypadlys]

Mushy May Day Seven - Gift Giving

Ship: Phantom/Dewdrop

Notes: I changed the prompt for today :) Dew helps Phantom who has a habit of misplacing all of his guitar picks. Prompt list by @forlorn-crows. See prompt list here

Word Count: 305

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Dewdrop walks into the practice room to see Phantom bent over squinting at the ground.

“Did you lose your pick again?” Dewdrop half chuffs, half sighs.

Phantom’s sheepish grin says it all.

“What happened to the ones I taped to your guitar?”

“...I lost em…”

“And the ones Rain put in your pickguard?”

“...those too…”

“Bug, it's been a week. How did you lose five picks in a week?”

Phantom shrugs then ducks his head.

“Can I-”

“No you can’t have any more of mine you little thief. We’re finding all the ones you’ve lost.”

“But-”

“Nuh uh. Don’t want to hear it. Start looking.”

The two of them scour the practice room and then the ghoul den and manage to find thirty seven guitar picks, nineteen of which Phantom is responsible for, three dollars and twenty-two cents in change, and Aether’s spare reading glasses that have been missing for a month.

After they pile their finds on the kitchen table, Phantom goes to shove a handful of picks in his jacket pocket.

“Stop that. That's how you lost them in the first place.” Dew chides. He reaches into his own pocket and tosses a small cloth keychain at the quintessence ghoul.

“Huh?”

“It’s a pick holder. Put it on your belt or guitar case and keep your picks in there.”

Sure enough it's a little folded diamond of fabric, sew up on the sides and with a little button closure. Phantom can tell from the bat fabric and slightly rough stitches that it’s handmade.

“Did you make this yourself?”

“Yeah.” Dew shrugs. “Don’t mention it.”

“Thank you!” Phantom squishes Dew in a hug that he only slightly resists.

“Yeah yeah, just stop taking all my picks alright?”

“I’ll try!”

Dew sighs but smiles. “That’s about as much as I can hope for, I suppose.”

[sofiaruelle]

Missed out on doing art studies last Sunday. So making up for it by making measurement diagrams for the class module. 😂

[ughgoaway]

okay once they are together teacher girlie INSITS on doing a hair washing day with matty.

at the start, he's like, "Babe. my hair is fine, do I need to do all these steps." And of course, you just say,"but don't you want me to massage your head and play with your hair?" he pauses and is weighing up the options when you lean in and whisper,"and you get to shower with me. Sounds like fun, no?"

matty is now throughly convinced, so after a shower (and possible other shower activities...) he lets you do whatever you want to his hair. at first, he's apprehensive, pulling away and asking what you're doing at each step.

but eventually, your hands sliding through his curls and massaging his head just feels too good for him to care. and all the products smell so good, matty gets to watch you in the mirror as you focus and stick your tongue out slightly as you work.

you finish with a flourish and massive grin, and matty is IMPRESSED. his curls have never looked so bouncy and shiny, and they smell amazing. he pulls you into his lap and presses kisses all over your face as you giggle and squirm.

"they look amazing, my darling, thank you. you're gonna have to teach me how to do this, you know." and you give him a grumpy look.

he laughs at your pout and says, "Is that not what you do all day?? I'm a better student than a 6 year old. I swear, " You shoot matty a look that says 'really.' and he has to stifle his laughter before he can continue, "cmon baby, you've gotta teach me. Otherwise, how am I gonna do these curls on tour, hmm?"

you relent and fiddle with them as you speak. "Yeah... I wish I could just come with and do it for you, " and you quickly freeze and freak the fuck out that you just said that. Cursing your brain for not thinking before it just blurts things out.

you and matty were reasonably new at that point, far too new to be bringing up such a big commitment. so you stutter and try and back track.

"Not that - I mean, I don't wanna do that - well, I do, but it's way too soon to bring it up. I'm so sorry. I just got excited, and" before you start becoming out of breath from rambling matty shuts you up in your favourite way. you always joked you wanted the cheesy rom-com moment where they get shut up with a kiss, and matty was happy to oblige.

"Baby. stop freaking out. you should know I want nothing more than you coming on tour with me, " you pull back with wide eyes, shocked that he didn't just let you down lightly. "Really?"

"Sweetheart. if you could've heard me this week whining to George about how much I'm gonna miss you and how I wish you would come, you'd know I'm telling the truth. I just was too much of a pussy to ask you, as George has been telling me repeatedly" he laughs and presses more kisses to your pouted lips.

After you both pull back, you can't stop your hands from making their way back into his newly styled curls, and matty doesn't mind one bit. he's practically purring like a cat as you twist his ringlets around your finger.

(inspired by this new pic where his curls are looking scrumptious)

[skeelly]

give me topics to write abt

[sketchycedar]

Drawing ivy instead of acknowledging that im in class again <3

[averlym]

"what could possibly go wrong?"

[sugaroto]

Ok so I was in class and the teacher had us write our names and αριθμό μητρώου on paper and when we were done he read all the names and asked us stuff like "Where are you from and what school did you finish?"

And so he calls on a kid at some point by their full name and all

And this person responded "I don't use that name. I go by a different one. And also I use different pronouns."

Which, was the first time I actually heard someone saying that in greek and irl

(Διαφορετικές αντωνυμίες sounded so official)

And the teacher goes like "I support that, and you need to write the name you're using here so I don't get confused." And he went back to the kid to give her the paper and explained how he will be calling her by her chosen name, and I think he said something among the lines 'sorry if I ever get confused and use the wrong one'

Like . Wow. The teachers here are cool

And this wasn't the same teacher I posted about the other day that used different pronouns when talking, that was a different one

[transxfiles]

kids gotta start playing with physical toys again i'm not even joking. if you've got nieces nephews kids of your own even a family friend with a little one you've gotta at least give them a stuffed animal, blocks, dolls, a tactile puzzle, ANYTHING i'm begging you. if you've got the jurisdiction to enact screentime limits PLEASE enact screentime limits. please

[antignocchiphase]

Ok story time

I am making a temperature blanket. For those unfamiliar, it is a knitted or crocheted blanket in which colours are assigned to the temperature outside. Every day, you crochet/knit a certain amount in the colour that corresponds to that day's temperature.

I am creating this, rather strangely, for my physics teacher (he puts up with far too much of my bullshit and I have been assured by many people that a blanket is a reasonable gift). It's a nice gift, it's a representation of the year's climate, it's thoughtful.

Slight problem though.

It's 7'6" wide.

That's uhh... 2.3 meters... :/

This is a very reasonable gift and a lasting memory of putting up with my bullshit.