#the fact too like. the average math or physics class gets me to my hands and knees begging for mercy

[astolfofo]

Tfw you learn Dr.Ratio fucking hold not one, not two, not three, but EIGHT FUCKING DOCTORATE DEGREES and he even has honored achievements in every field 💀 bro literally OWNED the rights to look down on us damn

bro is just on another level. the true no longer human from all the fucking education. The amount of education this fucker got is INSANE. 8 doctorates??? 3 of which are DEFINITELY math, physics, and astronomy (and probably philosophy)????? He probably has a degree in every science and engineering and that just makes me want to die. I can't even handle one bachelor's. bro achieved things so high that he's got that licence to say we're stupid.

The fact that. Real people like this also exist scares me too. Like I remeber once i was at an event and they were holding a panel for recruiting ppl to top unis in the world, and like. This guy had 6 different bachelor's degrees from Harvard.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I realise you're HE, but any thoughts on how high school level education should be run/changed/etc? I'd love to know your views!

Oh sure, plenty, but they're not particularly informed lol

Well; Wales is actually massively and fundamentally changing secondary education atm, but we won't be getting students from it until the year after next, I think, so no real comment on effectiveness yet - but it's very interesting. They're getting rid of isolated subjects in favour of broad umbrella areas, as I understand it? So there's now Science and Technology (Physics, Biology, Chemistry, Computing, and all the various DT subjects like Woodwork, Electronics, Cookery, etc), Maths and Numeracy, Humanities (History, Geography, Ethics, Religion), Languages Literacy and Communication, and Health and Wellbeing (actually maybe Cookery comes under this one now? Dunno.) And there's a sixth to do with arts but I can't remember what it's called. But it includes Art, Drama, Media Studies, etc.

And then the idea is that a class will learn about a given topic at a time (I don't know for how long, so let's say six weeks), and this will be taught in each of those six umbrellas but via their own methods. So like... I dunno, let's say the Tudors:

That's fairly straightforward for Humanities, but in addition to giving you the historical facts you'd also explore historic trade routes and natural resources of the time and how they related to the politics (geography), the religious make up of the country and how THAT related to the politics (religion), etc.

Maths and Numeracy might explore how to use statistics to analyse Tudor era population or trade data.

Science and Tech could look at disease outbreaks and virology, or technological advancements and how they worked and get students to build one, or get students to construct a Tudor-era town using computer software

Languages can study plays from the era (Shakespeare), look at linguistic development, or use historical events as talking points to practice using vocab in conversations

Health and Wellbeing can explore stressors and challenges of the average Medieval peasant and how they overcame them, or play some popular Tudor sport or game, or make food to Tudor recipes, etc

The Arts one (god I cannot remember the name) can look at art history of the period, fashions, perform plays, etc

So everyone is still teaching the skills and knowledge of their subject areas, they're just united by one big case study. It apparently allows for far more integrated teaching, too, where two previously discrete subjects can join forces on a project.

All of which seems pretty good, on the whole, but also rife with issues if everyone isn't careful, so we'll see how it shakes out over the next few years.

From my own experiences of school though. Jesus. Something definitely needed to happen, fuck me.

What I should have learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine

How to sew by hand to mend a tear

How to darn a hole

How to hem, dart, take in, and let out clothes

How to sew from a pattern

What I actually learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine on its most basic setting

How to phone in creating a hand puppet out of felt because gluing was easier than sewing

How to badly sew an extremely makeshift and shit bag out of scrap fabric that you in no way want to then use

How to lose all interest in Textiles because it was useless and uninteresting

Like that is a VITAL skillset-imparting subject, and they fucked it, lads, they completely fucked it. Why did they never set us the task of buying a cheap shirt from a charity shop that we then amended in class? That would have been so useful.

Games and PE! Fucking hell! Here's what I should have learned:

How to stretch my body safely to target specific muscle groups, and in particular, how to cultivate a daily stretching routine I enjoyed and wanted to do

How to find a physical activity active enough to get me out of breath that I genuinely enjoyed, so that I wanted to continue it, e.g. salsa dancing or rope climbing or ice skating or hill climbing or assault courses or fucking anything at all

How to build my body up to doing particular activities safely and sustainably

How to find a physical activity to do on wet, cold, rainy days that would still be fun and I would still enjoy

Here's what I actually learned:

Physical activity is always uncomfortable and miserable and sometimes even painful

If you aren't enjoying running around in the wind and rain instead of the indoor gym The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

Wanting to stay warm and dry and comfortable is a punishable choice.

You are only permitted to do physical activity in clothes that make you feel profoundly exposed and uncomfortable (a gym skirt and gym knickers in my school. Cycling shorts got you detention. Don't get me started on jogging bottoms.) Again, if you do not enjoy this, The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

There are only three activity options. If you don't enjoy any of them, physical activity is not for you.

You should be able to Just Do physical exercise, without any training to build you up to it. If you can't and it hurts, this is because you're Bad At PE.

You will only be shown Once

Physical activity is only ever a team sport that you aren't good enough to be willingly picked for

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

And you know what, LET'S round off with Food Technology/Cookery. Because I remember the things I was asked to make in FT. As a little baby Year 7, I still vividly remember two of the things we made.

Angel Delight. Easy, you might say! A simple treat, you might think! Easing the children into food prep, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was healthy eating, and so we were to add fruit to our Angel Delight. Any flavour Angel Delight, any fruit. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have encountered fruit, Tumblrs, but it famously has faintly acidic juice. This will prevent the Angel Delight from setting within the one hour lesson, no matter how well you mixed the pudding, or how quickly you got it into the fridge. It will result in soggy gross lumps of oxidising fruit in sloppy liquid pudding. Lesson learned: fruit makes food worse.

Cake. Easyish, you might say! A little harder than the Angel Delight but good training, you might think! A fairly straightforward process with a child-friendly food at the end, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was still healthy eating, so the teachers made it into an experiment; make four small cakes. One with sugar, one with sweetener, one with apple, and one with carrot. Then taste them and rank them in order. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have ever tried eating sugarless carrot cake, Tumblrs, but I have, and I can tell you categorically that it really puts the "Did you know" into the phrase "Did you know that fructose and sucrose are not actually equivalents of each other in a culinary setting?" It was rancid. It was disgusting. It was vile. It made me hate carrot cake for the next 12 years, in case my mouth had to go through that ordeal again. I'm still highly suspicious of the stuff even now. To (I assume) the surprise of fuck-damned no one, we unanimously put them in the order of sugar, sweetener, apple, carrot. Lesson learned: FRUIT MAKES FOOD WORSE AND CARROTS ARE ACTIVELY DISGUSTING

What possessed them?! No idea. Fucking hell.

Anyway this is getting long and I am still ill-informed. Peace out.

[dollya-robinprotector]

Giggling because I love making post with multiple character tags and then wait for the wrong face to be featured on all the tags ksksksks

This sydney looks soooo sillyyyy

Anw I just thought about my past so story time under the cut.

When I was in secondary school, I once knew a friend who was bullied.

For the context, it was a decent school, with 4 grades, each had 4 classes: A for lower-perform and naughty students, B for normal, C for better than average, and D for the Elites who will most definitely have bright future ahead. We are Asian children, study means EVERYTHING for us. Our worth are defined by how well we perform in school, how many awards we have and how good our grades are.

That friend was in class C. I was in class B. Normally we don't make friends outside of the class, but I once saw him being poured water on in the hallway, defended him and we became friends. Or something like that. Let's call him Z because I forgor his name now.

My parents didn't do well with the fact that I failed my entrance test and was stuck in normal class. They didn't have money to upgrade me to class C either, so they made me study extra hard. Back since I started going to school, I was being teased and harassed a lot too cuz I love to draw (what's the problem of kids being mean to artistic kids btw???). But since I was one of the best performers in study, I soon gained some respect and the soft bully subside. (I was terrible in math, but everything else were straight A okay??)

Z wasn't so lucky. I learned that his grades were terrible eventhough he was in class C. He stuttered a lot, always looks down when talking to people, never dare to engage in any conversation, etc... His appearance did not help, and he had some funny smell when I stood close to him. One thing though, he loved drawing too (urgh artistic kids again) and really admired my skill. The only times he would smile are when we talked about our fav anime. Looking back, I think maybe he had something to do with autism? I can't be sure though, but I know his parents spent a LOT to keep him in that better-than-average-class.

The bully was not too terrible, at least from what I saw and heard. He often got splashed by water, threw dirty rag or left-over food at, made fun of, laughed at, his belongings often went missing and be found somewhere dirty, etc... I used to went through all that too, so I helped him to somehow deal with them. Those sort of soft-physical bully were nothing scary once you got used to them. Just a little annoying. He got used to it too, I think, and we didn't mention those when we talk. I admit I might had some savior complex, and that friendship is not entirely friendly. It was more like I thought he would be helpless without me so I can't leave him alone.

And then one day when I was going home from school, Z approached me and asked if I want to go to his house. He said he has a very big greenhouse, and there were some pretty blooming flowers he wanted to show me. I never saw a greenhouse before and I love flowers, of course I said yes!

We rode our bicycles to his house. I've never been to his house before nor meet his parents. I didn't even ask my mom for permission to go but well, I was excited.

We went for a long time, and I started to realize he was leading me into the forest. I still went with him for maybe half an hour more, before I said I was tired and you didn't tell me your house would be this far. Then I look around and truly there was nothing bu trees surrounded the two of us. He looked back at me, clearly exhausted too, and said nothing. I started to realize the situation I was in: a 12 years old, in a forest, with no directions and a strange friend who I didn't really know. Yeh atm I was pretty scared.

I asked Z again where exactly is his house. He stuttered and said I don't need to worry, we would get there very soon. He said if I was too tired I can hop on his bike and he would get me there. Then he attempted to take my hand but that creeped me out so I stepped away from him. I turned my bike, ignored his calls, and just went as fast as I can toward the direction I thought would lead me out of the woods. He called out to me and began to chase after me too, but gave up after some times.

I then just rode my bike with full speed, somehow got out of the woods into a strange road I didn't know, asked around for direction and got home safe. My mom scolded me for being so damn late and I apologized. I never tell anybody, and never talk to Z ever again. He didn't bother me either. And that's the end of the story.

[the-torchwood-magician]

"Were you a gifted child or were you normal?"

No.

I was fine with learning (see: autism)

But I was repeatedly taken out of class because I can't say the letter S properly. I still struggle to say it properly and I usually sound like I have a lisp if I'm not consciously putting effort into saying it right.

I was in accelerated math in grade 9 but struggled so much. And when they put me in the same class again in grade 10, I begged them to put me in basic/remedial math, and they did.

In my second high school, in grade 11, was a mishmash of classes. Basic math, basic Hebrew (zionist school unfortunately), college prep history, judaics/talmud, honors English. (I wasn't confident with my hebrew skills that's why ig), and basic physics.

But a couple weeks into the year I asked to change my Hebrew class to accelerated because what they were teaching me what I learned in grade 1-3. Teacher tried to make up bs and not let me. In physics I studied hard because I suck at math but loved science. Turns out what the teacher thought was that his class wasn't difficult enough. My parents didn't want me to switch up and got upset I did it on my own. Especially cuz it was harder. But I was learning now. For judaics. They were teaching what I learned between grades 6-9 ish. I was bored. Kept telling me to not raise my hand because it wasn't fair to the others who didn't know the answer. My reward for already knowing? Given more work to do. I wanted to switch up to honors, even if it would be all in Hebrew (it wasn't). I was bored out of my mind. After some time, my talmud teacher held me back after class, and essentially said I was too smart for his class and he's having me switched up to honors. Which was funny cuz the concepts they were teaching in the college prep of Talmud I hadn't learned in depth in my old school tho I did the concepts ("girls can't learn the Talmud") but at least now I was learning new things. With judaics, even in grade 12, I wasn't learning anything new. But at least it was a faster pace, open to more in depth questions, and I wasn't told to not participate.

In grade 12 they switched me up to college prep for math, and I nearly panicked multiple times through the year when it came to tests because it was harder. I didn't ask to be switched up, pretty sure it was the teacher's call, because I did really well (and was the only one to get 100 on the midterm. No final cuz of covid). Math was my weak spot. I failed quizzes, didn't do the best on tests no matter how much I studied. I pushed through. Ended up needing to take the math final and surprised myself by somehow getting a 90. (See: audhd)

History was also a weak spot. I hated it. But somehow with the strength of audhd, I passed with an 85 something average. Not bad imo but my parents weren't too happy.

When it came to my electives, one was AP psychology. If you don't know what AP is, it stands for advanced placement, and teaches you what you'd learn in your first semester of uni/college. I struggled so badly in the beginning. It was a new way of learning I wasn't used to, a barrage of information much faster than my other classes. I was failing tests. I wanted to switch electives to a non-AP one. My parents wouldn't let me. I needed to "study harder" and "push through" and "ask for more help" - but me asking to switch courses wasn't getting myself help??? I ended up with a 4 on the midterm (three points shy of a 5 😭) and with a 4 on the final (maybe 10 points shy of a 5) which translated to regular scoring is somewhere around 80-88). It was hard as fuck.

School was hard on me. I had a mental breakdown senior year closer to when we were ending classes because it was so much already after all these years and then being expected to go to university straight after (the September after I graduated). I had trouble learning. The problem was, no one seemed to pick up on it because if I studied hard, and pushed myself really fucking hard, I did passably well. The fact that in high school I started to fail tests wasn't a "hey are you struggling? Is something wrong?" it was a "hey stupid, stop failing and study harder. Stupid. We're revoking x item until you get better grades. Stupid." is very telling of how much support I had. I was doing my homework for at least 5 hours every evening. My parents didn't ask if I was struggling. If I needed help. No. It's "you're in high school now, you need to study harder or colleges won't accept you." Tf.

Anyway. All that to say I wasn't a gifted kid or a normal kid. I was a burnt out struggling kid who instead of getting help was told to stop being stupid and study harder.

[nickeverdeen]

Hello! Hope you're doing alright. I've seen your matchup rules and decided to try it out, if you don't mind. The matchup can be for either Divergent or Harry Potter (both are my favourites). My pronouns are She/her, i'm pan but mostly attracted to girls. For physical apprearence, i'm average heigh, slightly board shoulders with short brown hair and dark chocolate eyes. Kind of a tomboy in my way of dressing. I'm awkward, hardly speak, and when i do, it's mostly brief answers: i don't enjoy the attention and seek comfort in the shadows of others. People would describe me as uninteresting, shy, yet kind: the girl who sits in the back of the class, does her thing, and hands you her homework if you forgot yours or smiles your way if your eyes lock. My hobbies, perhaps because of my lack of direct comunication, are writing and reading. I'm also inclined to academic validation, and find it rather fun to study mathematics and physics.

I hope it wasn't too long. Please don't feel pressured to do it. Take your time and don't forget to rest.

It wasn’t long at all, love and thank you! You get some rest too 🫶❤️

Although I’m sorry that the Harry Potter part is shorter

I did both fandoms, I hope you don’t mind

Your Divergent match is…

Christina

Makes fun of the fact that you two look very similar

I feel like Christina would be alright with distance relationship, but would prefer if you’d join the Dauntless with her

If you wouldn’t join Dauntless, she’d totally understand and would be cool with it

If someone ever makes fun of you, she’s quick to stand up for you

Be prepared for some (nice) teasing from her

Christina usually say whatever comes to her mind, so sometimes she might say things she doesn’t mean

She’d apologize for it later, tho

Christina likes that you’re kind, but is afraid someone might take an advantage from it

Let’s be honest with each other: Christina doesn’t read

Although she’d like it, if you would tell her about your favourite books while having your head laid down on her lap

Is curious what you’re usually writing

If you would let her, she’d gladly read it

Christina has no idea how can you enjoy studying, but she fully respects it

If someone makes fun of you for it, she’d probably shut them up

I would say that her love language is physical touch and word affirmation

Likes to cuddle at night

Christina compliments you every day, there’s no stopping her

————————-

Your Harry Potter match is…

Cho Chang

Cho doesn’t really like PDA, she prefers to show affection in private

Her love language is physical touch

Small cute kisses on cheek

Cho finds how you dress really hot cool

You’re in Ravenclaw? Great! You’re sleeping in the same dorm

Not in Ravenclaw? Cool! Night sneak outs to see each other

Hugs from behind

Cho would volunteer to study with you for exams or just for fun

She would teach you magic and you would teach her Physics and Math. Sounds like a plan

Hand holding

Talking to each other about your favourite books while her laying snuggled into your side

I personally feel like Cho would 100% like to play with your hair

————————————————————

[deniigi]

Hi Dr. Matt, I too am a college youth coming to you for advice, well actually more like concept. What does GPA actually mean, in terms of my ability to get jobs/go to grad school/etc. I grew up in a very "4.0" or bust household and while I've broken free (god that first B was freeing) I have less than 0 ability to actually add context to these numbers. Help?

Hi, anon!

So let’s start from the top and be real broad for you and other folks who might be in different circumstances:

GPA = Grade Point Average. Each institution may calculate this differently. I occasionally have to do them by hand, but why the fuck would you do that is the better question here.

GPA is usually a number between 0.00 and 4.00. Students who fall below a certain GPA at college/univ level (for many institutions in the USA, 2.0 is that number, which is a C average) go on something called Academic Probation

The reason Academic Probation is a problem is because if you are on Academic Probation for multiple semesters, you may be ‘Disqualified,’ I.e. Kicked out of your college/univ.

So in this sense, GPA functions as a way of demonstrating to the University and the people giving you Financial Aid that you are making satisfactory progress on your degree, and you are ‘worthy’ of continuing to receive subsidized education.

While that’s a shitty way of conceiving of humans and education, that’s the system we live in, and that’s essentially why it’s really important for people to be aware of their GPA.

It’s not that that number defines you or your intrinsic worth as a human, rather its that that number gives you access to other things.

Now, on that note, let’s talk about GPA in terms of social value, economic value, and social and academic mobility. It’s going to be a long conversation, so I’m putting it under the cut.

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

Depending on your field of career and study, average GPAs are going to vary.

Engineers, for example, go through such difficult classes that they have notoriously low GPAs. Like anything from a 2.0 to a 3.0 is solid and anything higher than like a 3.3 is considered by many in Engineering fields to be really good.

Many STEM fields are like this. Chemistry, Kinesiology, Physics, Math, Engineering, Biology, Bio-Chem, etc.

In many Social Science and Humanities fields, GPAs are less important than research and analytical abilities, writing strength, communication abilities, teamwork stuff -- transferable, “soft” skills essentially.

That being said, when you are trying to move up, academically or economically, GPA may become a factor that you start to think about--especially when you are applying to a type of specialized or graduate school (certification programs, nursing programs, teaching certificate, Masters degrees, PhDs, etc).

Many programs have GPA limits on their programs in order to thin out their application pools. Nursing programs may have a 3.0 minimum. Masters programs may ask you to have only gotten X number of Bs or Cs.

I want to emphasize here, however: GPA minimums depend on the program itself.

Prestige is one of the main driving factors behind demanding a certain GPA. Places with prestigious programs and jobs have the notoriety that brings them loads of applicants, which in turn gives them the ability to raise standards.

The top 10 schools in the US are going to be able to demand a 3.5 GPA or higher for admission.

The top firms in a city can say that you need X amount of experience in X area to be hired onto their team.

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

When it comes to applying to graduate school stuff (law school, Masters programs, PhD programs), I would focus less on whether or not you have a freakishly high GPA and more on your extracurriculars, your publications, research opportunities, writing abilities, analytical skills, and the hard skills necessary for your chosen field (I.e. Knowing MatLab or Python or GIS).

The reason for that is that you don’t really choose a graduate school so much as you choose a supervisor at a graduate school.

So if you can connect with a potential supervisor and are able to demonstrate to them that you A) are an asset to their program and B) have the skills necessary to do the work, then they are often the ones who decide whether or not you get admitted.

Supervisors can often smooth over lumps and bumps when it comes to admission of graduate students because THEY will be the ones overseeing your work before the Univ/program is.

Example: When I applied to one of my schools, the potential supervisor I was working with coached me in how to structure my research statement. They also advocated for me in admissions, and I did, in fact, get into that school (even if I chose not to go). For my other choice, I worked with a different supervisor who helped me get funding to help me secure admission as well.

So in this way, it is far more important for you to impress a supervisor than to have the best GPA of all applicants.

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

Now for the rest of y’all who aren’t thinking about grad school or a certification program, you may be asking, “Will my GPA affect my ability to get a job in the future?”

And first off, I want to sort of break down the notion that your degree = your career. Only something like 30% of people end up working in the field they get their degree in, so that tells you already that GPA and choice of Major kind of doesn’t matter in terms of being able to make money.

But more to the point:

Generally speaking, most (like, 95% or something) jobs do NOT require you to list your GPA on your resume or any other application materials.

Some positions may ask you to demonstrate proficiency in a given area or hard skill. Some positions may ask you to provide proof that you completed your degree. But usually, this proof is given to a company AFTER you have applied and accepted an offer for the position.

Example: after I accepted my job, I was asked to submit proof of my Masters degree, because my offer was contingent on me having the credentials I said that I did.

Now, if you are fresh out of school and don’t have much experience, but you’ve got a bangin’ GPA, that may be something that you consider listing on your resume to demonstrate to employers that you are a smart cookie, simply lacking experience.

If you are a new graduate in a STEM field specifically, and you have a bangin’ GPA and are looking for work in STEM, then you may also list that on your resume.

But I want to emphasize that you don’t have to. It is your choice. And in this scenario, you would only do that if you were applying to a highly specific position where that mattered and if you felt that it would help you.

If you’re applying to anything that is not an internship or a STEM entry job (like a new engineer, a new lab assistant, etc) there is no reason for you to put your GPA on your resume. That should not affect your chances for a position.

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

That’s probably plenty of food for thought for now. But anon, you can breathe. I got your other message and you are doing fantastically. Try to understand that the number isn’t as important as your competence and understanding in the material you are learning.

For right now, focus on building the skills. When it comes down to it, people would rather have a doctor who understands what to do to save their life than a doc who got a 4.0 in undergrad.

[forgotten-daydreamer]

Haikyuu sick/hurt characters headcanons: Karasuno edition!

⚠️ sickness, injuries, phobias, allergies and correlated symptoms ahead. If these themes upset you, proceed with caution. If you use these, credit me, please. ⚠️

Sawamura Daichi:

He doesn't let anyone know when he's sick. He'll show up to practise with a fever of 39°C and say that he's fine if someone points out how warm he is ("It's just overextertion. If you're not warm, it means you haven't been exercising well!")

He doesn't actually believe that he's fine, he knows his limits, but he just doesn't want to alarm anyone.

Luckily, he always manages to hold on until he reaches the bathroom if he's feeling pukey.

When he does get sick, he's very quiet and discreet. He always tries to go back to what he was doing before, insisting that he's okay.

When he's sick or hurt, the other third-years can see through his "I'm okay!" act (remember that time he hit his head and insisted that he was fine to play?), and know how miserable he really feels, so they force him to take it easyー he's no match for Suga, who will use mild violence if that's what it takes to make Daichi give up and rest.

Sugawara Kōshi:

He's anemic, cue to his constantly cold hands (and feet). Because of this, he takes iron pillsー or he should, because he forgets more often than not.

When he forgets the pills, he gets dizzy and weak, and needs to sit down for a bit. Once, he passed out due to anemia during practise, and he doesn't want to repeat that ever again, so he's extra cautious.

It's easy to understand when he's feverish, because he gets unexpectedly sleepy and quiet. He will fall asleep in class without even realising it if his temperature's any higher than 37,5°C.

He rarely gets hurt, but when that happens nobody's sure if he's okay or not. It's not that he denies it, but he simply doesn't say anything ("why didn't you say anything sooner!?" "B-because you didn't ask..?")

Once, he twisted his ankle and walked on it for a little less than thirty minutes before actually asking the coach if he could go get himself some ice. Of course, they didn't send him to get the icepack, but he had to sit there and listen as Coach Ukai yelled at him for not speaking up sooner.

Azumane Asahi:

He gets anxiety-induced stomach aches very often, and that's why he's used to feeling dizzy and to puking. Vomit doesn't scare him anymore.

Whenever he's sick, he runs away from the others; he needs to flee, far away. He loves his teammates, but he's scared that they'll accidentally overwhelm him further, and he doesn't want them to feel guilty.

This man can't stand the sight of blood. Like, at all, not even a little. Not even in movies. When Shimizu got a shallow paper cut, the Coach actually had to physically support him when getting him seated on a bench.

He broke his left index finger when he was a first-year, and as soon as he saw the bone sticking out of the skin (it looked worse than what it really was) he fell backwards and on a very concerned Sugawara without a word.

Cue to lots of tears and puke on the way to the hospital. He was inconsolable, but when Daichi had the idea to hide the injury from his eyes, Asahi managed to calm down a bit. In every situation, it's not the injury that scares him, but the blood.

Nishinoya Yuu:

He's reckless, he won't even notice when he gets injured. Since he's so used to bruises, bumps and shallow cuts, he doesn't understand when he's actually injured.

This guy played a whole set with a sprained wrist before realising that "hey, this feels kinda weird..?" and he didn't tell anyone until the end of the game, when his wrist was visibly swollen.

High pain tolerance plays a major role when he's injured or sick. Still, the others wish he would have a more average pain tolerance, because, once, Nishinoya felt sick during math class, and still claimed he was fine. He thought he was.

When he was rushed to the hospital due to a "mild ache in his lower stomach" that had been going on for two days after the math class incident, along with a 38,7°C fever, he was told that he had appendicitis ("I thought I just ate something bad or that I needed to take a huge dump! How was I supposed to know!? I thought I was fine."). It was clear that he wasn't, in fact, fine.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke:

He will try to toughen everything out and ignore the pain until it gets unbearable. Be it an injury or some sickness, he will automatically ignore it if he doesn't think it's serious enough to be life-threatening.

That's why he almost died when he ate one of the peanut butter cookies that Yachi had baked. Turns out, allergies do existー but he wished he'd found out in a different way. Sometimes, "My throat's kinda itchy. Does my tongue look... too big? It... it feels too big." can be synonym of "Hospital, now." Bless Takeda-sensei.

The time when he collided with Daichi, Tanaka completely ignored the fact that his arm hurt, and only realised when he took his shirt off in the locker-room and heard a screech from Yamaguchi. The bruise went from his shoulder to his elbow, blue and swollen. Cue to lots of pain relief cream and ice packs.

Ennoshita Chikara:

He never broke a bone in his whole life, but he's very good at dealing with it when it happens to someone else. He's just fascinated by how the human body works, and sometimes people think he's being cold in front of someone else's pain, when he's really just being logical.

He's good at dealing with his own pain too, though he rarely gets hurt or sick.

When he gets sick, he recovers pretty rapidly, but this leads him into relapse. That's why he's not allowed back to practise for a whole week after he recovers ("I'm fine. I've been fine for three days already, my fever wasn't even that high..." "Last time you said you were fine, you almost got pneumonia. Go home.").

He gets bad allergies during spring, and takes a lot of antihistamine pills which make him sleepy. He often has to excuse himself from class to go take a nap in the infirmaryー the teachers and the nurse know, so they always allow him to.

Narita Kazuhito:

This man is the embodiment of health. His diet and lifestyle will probably allow him to live until past the age of 100.

That's why he's not used to getting sick. And when he does, he's a confused mess with no idea of what to do with himself.

When he puked on himself after practise he was so shocked that he chuckled nervously and stood still, frozen, until Kinoshita and Ennoshita dragged him to the bathroom. He almost found the whole ordeal funny.

Kinoshita Hisashi:

He really despises vegetables and fruit, and often gets mocked because of it. He often stuffs himself with sweets and fried food until he feels sick ("But... how? That cake had strawberries in it! It's supposed to be healthy!").

He gets very bad seasickness. Once, his friends decided to drag him to Miyajima: he spent the time on the ferry and first hour on the island puking his guts out.

The thing he doesn't do good with is fainting: if someone passes out in front of him, he does the same, always. When Daichi passed out in the middle of the court, Kinoshita was thankful that Narita was there to hold him up, because he was ready to leave the land of the living.

Kageyama Tobio:

Always denies everything ("my nose is not bleeding!!") and this only makes everything worse for him. If he feels shaky, he won't take a clue and sit down; instead, he'll push himself and end up falling down on whoever's closest to him ("Daichi-san, nice receive!" "Now's really not the time, Hinata...").

When he gets sick, he gets sick hard. The flu has him puking all day long, with a fever of 39.5°C that, he insists, is not that high. His family and friends are smart enough to understand that he's lying. Not even the doctors and nurses at the E.R. can convince him that he's sick.

To be fair, he does not lie when he says that he's not hurt or sick: he genuinely thinks that whatever's going on with him is normal and not that bad.

He accidentally tripped on the leg of a desk in class, and fell face first into the teachers'. The deep, bleeding cut on his forehead wasn't enough for him to understand that he needed to go to the infirmary, and he just sat back at his desk, apologising for the mess. Turns out that his "little cut" needed six stitches in the end, and that his "mild headache" was, in fact, a mild concussion. He showed up to practise the following day anyway, and the Coach had to physically prevent him from joining.

He doesn't do good with nausea, though; he doesn't mind fevers, joint-pains, blood, bruises, or the act of throwing up itself. But when he feels nauseous he actively wishes to pass out, because anything is better than dealing with feeling like that. That's why he'd rather stick his fingers down his throat to get rid of the nausea already than waiting for it to pass naturally.

This got worse when he started suffering from migraines. As soon as he feels one starting to build behind his eye, he throws himself over the toilet, waiting for the dreaded nausea to come so that he can get rid of it before it gets too bad. He stays like that for hours if that's what it takes.

Hinata Shōyō:

He pukes a lot, and for a number of reasons: nervousness, motion sickness, fear, hungerー this guy can't even take it to the bathroom.

His guts are a mess, and he either vomits or poops every time he feels any strong emotion (which is...pretty often, for him). Thank goodness his friends always have pills that help with motion sickness with them, along with antiacid pills and sparkling water, and that Kiyoko and Yachi often restock the bus and everyone's backpacks with paper bags.

The higher the fever, the more he moves. Ever since he was a kid, a fever has never stopped him, and to be fair, fevers make him feel more motivated and energetic. He takes "Hey, no. Sit down, drink up, and rest." as an insult because "I'm fine. You're benching me because you think I suck, huh!? But I was doing fine! I- I was being good, right..?"

Yes, fevers make him emotional. He'll cry for anything once they make him admit that he's sick. He mostly cries because "How could I get sick? I'm going to be useless! I should've paid more attention, I should've been better!" but Kageyama knows for sure that he saw a feverish Hinata crying over a picture of his sister, for some reason.

He doesn't mind blood when he's the one to be bleeding, but if it's someone else, he freaks out. Seeing someone else having a bloody nose or bleeding from some injury, even small and insignificant, makes his stomach flip.

Tsukishima Kei:

He's never said "I'm in pain." in his whole life. The most honest statement he managed to grit out was "It kinda hurts.", but he never said anything more than that. He won't show himself being so vulnerable, ever.

Whenever he has to go to the optometrist, he won't eat anything for at least half a day before the appointment, because he knows for sure that he's going to throw up after the doctor dilatates his pupils.

He's a quiet puker, and he always locks himself up in the bathroom, which can be dangerous in those situations. After that time when he passed out after throwing up, his mother got an extra key of the bathroom, and always lingers close to the door when she knows that her son's about to be sick.

If anyone tries to interrupt him when he throws up or when he's in acute pain, he will yell at them. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the help, but he hates how everything feels so crowded around him when he's down. The only person who's brave enough to help him when he's like that is Yamaguchi, mostly because he's used to hearing his angry words (even if Tsukishima's never insulted him personally).

Yamaguchi Tadashi:

Terribly emetophobic, he won't throw up even if he has to. He just won't do that, no way... Which is cruelly ironic, since he gets sick pretty often due to anxiety and weak immune system. Tsukishima doesn't mind helping him out (but he would never step close to anyone else when they're sick) but he can be a bit rough sometimes; this both reassures and agitates Yamaguchi. "I'll stick my fingers down your throat if you don't throw up now." doesn't sound too kind, but when Tsukishima adds "it'll make you feel better, I promise." Yamaguchi feels a bit calmer. He’s also a loud puker.

He's a type-2 diabetic, though he has it under control and hasn't had any problem related to that in a while, not since the beginning of middle school, at least. Still, sometimes he needs to reluctantly sit practise out because he's obviously too shaky and weak to strain himself that much. When that happens, they all make sure that someone sits with him to make him feel less alone... and he appreciates it immensely.

He's on anxiety meds, but they make him feel dizzy sometimes, which leads him into a spiral of panic for fear that he'll get sick. It's a huge contradiction, really, and he hates it with his whole soul.

He's one of the people in the team who can handle others' sickness and injuries better; it might shock him for a second, but he's ready to jump into action and solve the problem in order to help his friends out.

Injuries don't scare him, though the worst thing that ever happened to him was when he got punched in the face by a bully. He also broke his arm in middleschool once though he doesn't remember muchー maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was that it hurt less than he imagined. The punch freaked him out more than that.

Yachi Hitoka

She's a good caretaker, but an absolute mess when it comes to taking care of her own injuries and sickness.

She's clumsy so she's not new to bruises and cuts, but this doesn't mean that she doesn't freak out a bit whenever she sees blood on her legs or arms. On their way home from school, one day, Hinata and Yamaguchi decided to get her band-aids with little chicks and kittens on them. She finished the 30-pack in less than a month.

She got her period a bit late in life, a couple of months before turning 15, and whenever she's on her period, it hits her like a train at full-speed in the guts. Kiyoko taught her some yoga moves that help with the cramps, and the boys never bother the two of them when they see them doing yoga in the corner of the gym. In fact, they also bought her an electric heating pad for her birthday along with an indecent amount of chocolate that didn't fit in Yachi's bag (and various other presents not concerning periods).

Shimizu Kiyoko:

The scars on her legs are fully healed, yet the skin there is thinner, and so the wounds reopen whenever she accidentally hurts herself there. They sting quite a bit, and though it's unusual, she hisses out loud when it's bad. Everyone agreed to make sure that medkit is always equipped with antiseptic cream. To this day, Kiyoko insists that it isn't necessary, but they disagree.

She always knows what to do when someone else feels sick, but she's unsure about what she'd do in case of her own sickness. She hasn't been sick in too long to know.

She hasn't gotten a cold since elementary school, and that one time when she thought she'd caught something, when she sneezed at the age of 16, it was actually just a bit of dust allergy. She doesn't even need meds for it.

Takeda Ittetsu:

He hardly gets sick, but he ends up hunched over the toilet more often than not after a Friday night out with his friends. He drinks quite a bit for a teacher, but only when he knows that he can do that without compromising his career or setting the wrong example. Hangovers also leave him a messy wreck, and that's why he only drinks on Fridays: that way, he has until Sunday night to recover.

For someone who's constantly surrounded by teenagers, he doesn't get sick much. He catches a cold every now and then, but nothing more serious than that. And when he's sick, he always tries to prevent the others from catching what he's got, without actually taking care of himself to heal.

Once, he got a fever of 40,1°C and luckily for him Ukai was coming over to discuss about the volleyball club; he found Takeda sprawled face-down in front of the open door. He was boiling, so Ukai took him to the hospital where he stayed for two days. ("I didn't think it was this bad." "So you knew you had a fever and still went to work?" "Yeah, but I had a mask on so that the others could be safe." "And you didn't buy medicine in the meantime?" "Ah, no." "...what the hell!?").

Ukai Keishin:

He catches a cold every other month, no matter how many layers of clothes he wears. These colds are often accompanied by low fevers, but he's used to those so he simply chugs some orange juice and moves on.

He tried to quit smoking countless times, especially since he started coaching these kids, but he can't help smoking at least three of cigs per day. Still, sometimes his chest aches a bit, and maybe it's just paranoia, but when that happens he doesn't touch tobacco for a couple of days.

His liver would even be able to survive Takeda's nights out; his guts, in general, are strong and he swears he's never felt nauseous in his whole life.

💫 I might think of more sick karasuno hc soon, but that's it for now. Expect more characters hc soon! Again, credit me if you use these, and please feel free to share this post! 💫

[sarcastically-defensive17]

ahhh 25 and 12 or 6 with calum hood please!!

I AM SO SO SO SORRH RHAT THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAD A SUPER LONG HIATUS FOR PERSONAL REASONS AND I HOPE YOURE STILL INTERESTED AND NOT MAD AT MEEE 🥺LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING YOU ABSOLUTE ANGEL LOVIEEE

Help me - C. Hood

6: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

12: “N-no, it’s alright, come here.”

25: “Please talk to me about it.”

GIF is not mine

TW: DEPICTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE/ ABUSE BY A PARENT. MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND WOUNDS, GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF FAMILIAL VIOLENCE, SELF-LOATHING THEMES AND PHYSICAL INJURY.

If this content can potentially trigger you, please do not read. Your mental and physical health is important, so please, take care of yourself. My inbox is always open.

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Please do not copy, reproduce or repost without credit or in a manner than removes my username, and/or ownership from the work. Stealing isn’t cool, peeps.

<><><><><>

Not much was known about Y/N. In the entire school, she was the enigma. She had her friends, she was average in her classes, but still, her personal life was kept out of the general knowledge of the student body. Even the teachers knew little about the girl.

Her parents would come to every interview, every ceremony. She would go on trips, she would join in on the fun. She even attended the two week camp they held last semester, and it was the happiest that anybody had seen her.

Calum often watched the girl. He could see how her smile would drop when nobody was looking, how she would constantly flinch whenever anybody would raise a hand or wave an arm around her. He observed her more often than not, as stalkerish as that made him sound.

He was friends with the girl. They shared English and Math and some of the same friends. He enjoyed speaking to her, he loved to see her smile - genuinely smile.

He couldn’t deny the growing feelings he had for her. She was intelligent and kind, her smile could knock the breath out of him, and had done so many times. He seemed to lose all train of thought around her and the feeling was addictive. He had no idea if she felt the same, but he felt his own emotions grow tenfold every time she placed her hand on his arm, or offered her assistance when he was unsure about something, or simply when she laughed at a horrible joke that slipped from his lips.

She was angelic and he couldn’t put his finger on why such a beautiful person could look so skittish at a sudden movement.

He had his suspicions but he knew better than to pry.

However, his mind couldn’t be set at ease when they were placed into a group together. Their due date for their English project was impending, and as his mother was working from home, he chose not to offer his residence for the pair to gather.

“So, your house?” He was waiting by her car at the end of the day, unnoticed by Y/N as she rushed to her vehicle in the same manner she always did. She hadn’t expected him to be there, so when his voice travelled to her ears she couldn’t help but flinch and shy away. He frowned softly at her, “you okay?”

She blinked, tilting her head to look at him. “Excuse me?” Her keys were clasped tightly in her hands and her gaze kept flicking between her door and Calum.

He chose not to focus on the tension she held in her body. “The project?” He reminded her. “It’s due in two weeks and if we keep showing up with nothing done, Stone will be on our asses until we graduate.” He snorted, the sound bringing a small smile to Y/N’s face.

“I, um, I don’t think my house is a good idea,” her voice was soft - fragile. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do it during study? I can’t be out too late.”

“All of my study’s are designated to soccer practice, sorry,” he pursed his lips, pushing off of her car. “I would offer my place but I think my mum would genuinely murder me. She’s working from home and my sister is in the process of taking over all available space in the house with her loser friends.”

Y/N seemed to think over it for a minute. She knew that it would be a bad idea to have Cal come over, but she had no choice. She sighed, nails working carefully to pick at the skin around her cuticles - a bad habit she had adopted.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Hop in, just, there are rules you need to follow, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, pulling the drivers side door open for her when the lock mechanism clicked open.

Her heart pounded in her chest the whole way home. The mere sight of the two story residence made her feel queasy on a regular day, but the upbeat boy sitting beside her made the thought of being at home much worse. She put the car in park, turning to Calum.

Her eyes rarely met his, he noticed.

“Um, you can’t be here after 5. My parents get home around then and they don’t really like visitors.” She pulled her keys from the ignition, clamping her eyes shut for a brief moment. Sure, Calum was her friend - he was a great guy, and Y/N genuinely enjoyed his presence - but she couldn’t shake the feeling that having him at her house would end horribly. “No shoes inside, we need to stay in the dining room and please, if you use the bathroom, put the toilet seat down.”

She didn’t invite people over for a reason, but she dropped the desire to have friends over when her home began to break more. Y/N could barely remember a time when she fell asleep to anything but the sound of expletives, breaking glass or pure aggression.

Instead of questioning the barrage of instruction as she would expect, Calum simply fixed her with a warm smile, “Your wish is my command.”

She had long wished for her parents to go their separate ways strictly to save her from the fear that enveloped her the minute she stepped foot inside, however, she knew it fruitful because she couldn’t go anywhere but with one of them, and even when apart, they were harmful.

Calum followed her rigid form into the house, kicking his shoes off and placing them on the designated racking as instructed. The house was in pristine condition. It was as if there were no life in the environment unless a human was present - it felt cold.

The house was so different from his own. His mother had made sure to hang photos of both him and his sister, pictures from family outings, vacations. His father bought his mother flowers regularly and they always sat on the kitchen counter. His sister even had her own little belongings in the family areas as did he. Y/N’s house had nothing. There was not even a picture of her with her parents. The house was near void of any sort of familial comfort that it made him feel uncomfortable.

He followed her into the dining room, waiting for instruction. The atmosphere put him incredibly on edge and he could feel that there were many rules to be followed to perfection in the house.

Y/N pulled her bag open, placing her books on the table before stashing the bag into a designated nook in the entry way. The table caught his eye. Only two chairs. Both her parents lived with her, but there were only two chairs.

She returned, taking a seat at the small round table. Her eyes darted nervously to a clock mounted on the wall before softening and focusing on Calum’s standing form.

“Take a seat?” She offered. “We have just over an hour and a half until my parents get home.”

He nodded, slumping down in the seat and retrieving his own items for their project.

The time flew by quickly, it seemed. Calum’s presence was warm and he shone like a beacon in the barren home. She could barely take her eyes off of him for fear that he too would burn out like all who have entered before him.

If she could, she would have captured the moment in its entirety, preserving it for the lypophrenic moments that visit her almost nightly.

She was in the process of laughing at a joke that slipped from Calum’s lips when her eyes absentmindedly crossed over to the wall clock.

It was 3 minutes past 5.

Calum needed to leave. Fast.

She was on her feet, face paleing and her hands working to slam the books in front of her closed. She needed Calum gone and she needed to be in her room before either of them got home.

Calum raised an eyebrow at her, following her movements with caution. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“You need to go,” she was breathless despite the meager activity. It wasn’t the actions that made her breath escape, it was fear. She knew what would happen if either of her parents arrived home. She knew what would happen if they saw she was in the dining room, or if she had company. Nevermind if that company was a male.

“Oh, sorry,” he smiled softly, helping her clean. “The time sorta slipped away from us. It’s only a few past 5, I’m sure your parents will understand-“

He was cut off as she shoved his books against his chest, “they can’t know that you were ever here.” She felt horrible for rushing him out; almost as horrible as she felt for her lack of hospitality, but she needed him to go. She couldn’t bear the consequences.

She handed him his shoes, opening the front door and pushing him out. His expression was full of confusion and for an instance she thought she saw hurt flash in his whiskey coloured eyes but her state of anxiety was growing and she couldn’t bring herself to react.

“Sorry about going overtime. I’ll see you-“ the door slammed in his face, footsteps hurrying away from the wooden barrier almost exactly after, “- tomorrow?” He finished dejectedly, slipping his shoes on and starting down the path to his house.

He lived in close proximity to Y/N, but the walk did little to quell the hurt in his chest.

Y/N rushed around as soon as the door was closed. She needed to clean everything up in the dining room before one of them got home, but her efforts were fruitless.

A few minutes after she rudely shoved Calum away, she heard an engine die in the front yard. The door opened carefully and closed very soon after. The sound of heels on the floorboards alerted her to the fact that her mother was home. She was in perfect view, still trying to clean away any evidence that she inhabited the dining room.

“What the hell have you done to my house?” Her mother hissed, the sound of keys being thrown onto the hall table bouncing off of the walls, setting the hairs on the back of Y/N’s neck on edge.

Y/N felt her shoulders flinch, acting on their own accord. “I’m sorry, mum. I just felt like studying down here today-“

Her mother was next to her within seconds, cold eyes scanning over every item in the room. “This is a pig sty!” She growled, despite the only objects out of the ordinary being y/N’s textbook, a single pen and a bottle of water. “I go to work, busting my ass to pay for things you need and this is the thanks I get?”

The laughter that fell from the older woman gave Y/N goosebumps. Both of her parents were vindictive and nasty, but her mother was the worse of the two. Quick with her hands, nastier with her words. She has once thrown a plate at Y/N because she dared to ask to add salt to her dinner.

Her father, on the other hand, was a drunk who would prefer to scream insults at his daughter and wife for anything. Despite this, y/n had less fear of the patriarch.

Y/N stayed quiet, too frightened to say anything or to even move to finish cleaning. Her mother didn’t like that and wound her hand in Y/N’s hair, gazing down at her with malice as she yanked her head back violently.

“You ungrateful little brat!” She growled. “You were the worst thing to happen to me, yet I still feed you, and clothe you and keep you here while you sick the life from me like the parasite you are, and this is how you repay me?”

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes as she struggled against her mother’s hand, “Mum, mum please,” she pleaded. “You’re hurting me.”

“You hurt me every day that you’re still here, it’s the least I can do to repay the favour.”

Y/N grabbed her mother’s hand, attempting to pry it away from her hair, but in the process, her nail scratched her mother’s hand.

Y/N didn’t realise until she was knocked to the ground after a force connected with her cheek. Her head connected with the floor boards, blood quickly spilling from her brow and her lip and cheek throbbing.

“Don’t you ever touch me again, you little bitch!” Her mother screamed in her face, cradling her barely wounded hand like she would a baby.

Y/N struggled on the floor, slowly trying to climb to her feet despite the ache spreading through the left side of her face. She shuffled back, hoping to get closer to the hall so she could get up to her room. Her mother had other plans.

The sound of the cupboard door opening was evident and Y/N barely pushed her disheveled hair from her eyes to see a glass hurtling towards her, connecting with the wall next to her.

The sound was near ear-piercing, a few glasses catching her arms and shredding the skin in various places. Crash after crash - she finally ran out of glasses, starting to move to the next cupboard.

Y/N took the opportunity to get to her feet and run. Her feet carried her to the door, and she was thankful that she always kept we car keys on her person for fear of moments like this.

Her mother called out expletives behind her, but she didn’t bother to turn, instead allowing her body to act on its own volition, climbing into her car and pulling out of the drive as fast as she could.

Her vision was blurring, tears staining the clarity of her sight. Her hands were shaking so ferociously that she could feel the muscles in her shoulders twitching. Her mind was anywhere but the road, but it felt like she moved between destinations so fast, barely paying mind to the road in front of her until she pulled up at a park in the next suburb.

Her fingers worked on the screen of her phone, acting of their own volition until a voice was sounding through the speaker into Y/N’s ear.

“Y/N?” The voice asked, confused, anxious even.

“I’m at the park, on Macquarie Street. I need help.”

To anybody outside, Y/N would have been a terrifying sight. Blood pouring down her face, starting at her brow, a bruise forming quickly on her left cheek, a slight swell misshaping her lip and cuts all over her arm with their own trails of blood.

For Calum, his heart near stopped when he saw her sat on a park bench with her knees pulled to her chest. The sight was a beat more than terrifying. There were no more tears in her eyes, but her cheeks were wet with recent drops. She was staring out into the green landscape as if she no longer inhabited her body. The sun was starting to set behind her.

It took all of his willpower not to rush towards her, simply so he didn’t spook her. She was as rigid as a scared animal, any sudden sounds causing her to flinch.

“Y/N?” He tried softly, stepping cautiously. Her bleary eyes shifted towards him slowly, looking down at his feet before settling into his eyes. Her face shifted into a small smile as she locked onto the warm brown. “What happened?”

With his words, the semblance of a smile dropped. She frowned deeply, a dimple forming softly on her chin before a sob ripped through her chest. Her breathing heaved her body, rocking aggressively as she poured the emotion onto her knees once again. He walked to her faster, resting a hand on her knee and the other on her head.

“Y/N?” She shook his hands off, flinching away from his touch. “Y/N, baby? What happened? Please talk to me about it.”

She gasped, knees unfurling from her near iron grip. She knew the feeling well, it being her third panic attack since she left her home - not her home - the place she used to live. She couldn’t go back there.

Calum knew the signs. He had helped Michael through many attacks before and he acted beyond thought as he sunk to his knees before her, kneeling between her opened legs. His fingers moved to the side of her face gently, as to not cause her any more fear.

The tears had halted again, but she could barely catch her breath. He pulled her head down into his chest, thankful that with his added height against the small park bench, it was not so much of an awkward angle for the frightened girl.

It took all of 2 minutes for her breathing to balance. It was a trick he learned long ago - sometimes physical contact could help Michael with his attacks, and it had proven to be helpful to Y/N.

The silence that followed was pregnant as she rested her head against him. Her fingers had clasped so tightly in his hoodie that he could barely move until she loosened her grip. Slowly, she began to peel her body away from him.

“I- I’m sorry. There’s blood everywhere. I’ll let you go,” she sniffed, her voice airy as she tried to relax her muscles.

“N-no, Y/N,” he stood slowly, choosing to sit next to her instead of on the ground in front of her. “It’s alright, come here. Only if you want to.” He held his arm out, allowing her to make her decision. Slowly, and cautiously, she moved towards him, seeking the comfort of his soft hoodie and his warmth. She let out a shaky breath as she settled in to him. He shushed her softly, moving his arm to loop around her back slowly. “It’s alright, you’re safe, darling. I won’t let you go.”

She mumbled a soft “thank you,” wrapping her arms around his waist delicately. Her forehead nestled into his collarbone, allowing the lower portion of her face to be angled so she could resume her breath maintenance.

“Who did this to you, daring?” His voice was soft, his eyes anywhere but the girl below him. The mere sight of her eliciting a burning rage within his chest. Y/N was so pure, so happy. So kind. The thought that anybody would dare to hurt her - to him, it was blasphemy. “What happened after I left?”

“It was my mum,” her words were incredibly faint, yet Calum’s attentive ears heard every syllable. He tightened his arm around her slightly. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

He moved his hands to her shoulders, pulling her off of his chest so that he could survey her face. His fingers were calloused from the strings of his bass, but he made sure to keep his touch featherlight as he ran his finger along her wounded cheek.

It was no, that he finally realized the small scars decorating her eyebrow, her jawline, and even her neck.

“She hurts you?” The thought was unbearable, how could a mother hurt their child in such a way. Y/N was in bad shape, and to know that it was somebody who should love and protect her that did so - he was shaking from fury. “What about your father? Does he-“

“Dads always too drunk to care. He spends his time sucking down beers and verbally abusing us rather than paying attention to the constant crap I get from my mum,” her scoff was full of malice. On the outside, Y/F/N had it all but in reality, her world was a steaming dumpster fire and she spent her time yearning for love. “My parents never wanted me and they have made it obvious. This,” she gestured to her face with a sliced up arm, wincing slightly at the shift of her flesh. “Is because I had stuff in the dining room. Mother prefers I keep my life confined to my bedroom where she can pretend I don’t exist.”

Guilt washed over Calum’s face, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have pushed to go to your house.”

“It’s fine, Cal. There was bound to be an issue tonight anyways, it’s just our routine,” she sent him a small smile, eyes full of apology and sadness. “Thank you, for coming to my rescue.”

He let his thumb run across her cheekbone, relishing in the feeling of her skin underneath his palm. “Whenever you call, I’ll be there for you Y/N.” There was nothing in his actions to suggest anything but sincerity, specifically in the way his eyes lingered on hers for a second longer than normal. “You can’t go back there, darling.”

Her head hung slightly. She had nowhere to go but there. Of all of her friends, not one of them would take her in and her closest family was out of state. She had no options.

“That’s the only place I have,” she smiled at him, a miserable smile, but a reassuring one. “I’ll be okay.”

“Come to my house,” he offered, eyebrows raising slightly, a pleading pout on his lips.

“Cal, I can’t impose-“

“You’re never imposing, Y/N.” His brows furrowed. “I’ll always keep you safe, I promise.”

A sigh left her chest, her breathing smoothing and functioning correctly on its own accord, before she nodded. Fighting against Calum was a losing battle, but she wasn’t entirely against the idea. There was something drawing her in to him. Something that she couldn’t identify. Whether it be the damsel-in-distress complex that she had adopted that night, or the butterflies that erupted in her belly when he held her close, she wanted to go with him. She wanted to be safe in his arms.

So she nodded, smiling small up at him, her fingers reaching up to hold his own that were still resting on her scarred face.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, a delicate gesture full of comfort and with an inkling of the love that she so desired. “I’ll always protect you, darling.”

Tag list: @starshonerose @mantlereid @killerqueenishere @snookiebrookie @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @another-lonely-heart

[mctreeleth]

Hi! Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, then send this to ten of your favorite followers (nonnegotiable) SPREAD POSITIVITY! 💌🥰

I have been thinking about this since I got it yesterday. There was a post a while back where someone was talking about when they were asked something along these lines but their therapist called them out for the fact that all their positive qualities were things they could do for other people, and while I glossed past it at the time, now it is making me think:

What do the five things I like about myself actually say about me?

Because, on the one hand, there is the "things I do for other people" track. I like that I am instinctively supportive and try to help. The fact that I struggle to have a good time while someone around me is miserable is a good thing because it motivates me to do what I can to alleviate their bad time. My almost debilitating sympathetic embarrassment drives me to do everything in my power to make the people around me comfortable. Those are all things I like myself for doing, but are they things I like about myself, and, more importantly, are they good things to like about myself? If I only like the things about myself that serve others, then do I really like myself?

Okay, so what about what I can achieve? That's a pretty common one. I like how I can intuitively work out the maths behind any quilt pattern. I like how good I am at rendering a 2D material into a 3D object, like clothes or a bag or a toy. I like how good I am at making big charcuterie platters that both look good and have everything get eaten. That is harder than you would think - a lot of the good looking stuff no-one actually likes. But these are all instances where I am liking my ability to produce. Is that the kind of thing that I should be liking about myself? By making the things I like about myself be things that demonstrate achievement, I am unconsciously reiterating the idea that if you cannot produce, you are not worthy. So the things I like about myself should probably be more intrinsic.

Okay, so lets try basic cliched stuff. I like my eyes, I think they are pretty. But - multiple classes of feminist theory on the way in which we are embodied selves aside - thanks to some chronic health issues, to me my body is mainly the thing that carries me around. It would be like saying that a thing that I like about myself is that my car has good headlights. I like that my shoe size is average so it is easy to find boots at the thrift store, and also that the size of tyres my car uses are fairly cheap. And, you know, probably shouldn't be prioritising physical attributes either.

Saying things like "I like how I dress" or "I like how I have decorated my apartment" are instances where I am liking my participation in consumer culture. That seems generally like a bad thing, and a lot of people don't have the time to thrift as extensively as I do, or the money to access such things new. It's like saying "I like my privilege."

Which I suppose leaves the inside stuff. A lot of it is double-edged-sword-y, and so tinged with the accompanying annoyance, but you get that on the deep introspections.

I like how quickly I can flit from fun idea to fun idea, even though it does make it hard to retain thoughts, or concentrate.

I love how much fun I have yes-and-ing everything and anything, even as it means I struggle when things are not sparkly and exciting. I love it when I hit a groove with someone, and we simultaneously elevate each other’s dumb ideas. I love how good I am at spiraling upwards, even if it means I am also predisposed to spiral downwards.

I am possibly one of the best in the world at finding joy in tiny things - at least on par with your average 4 year old - and have annoyed my friends by waxing lyrical for extended periods of time about automatic swinging doors, how good it feels to have exactly the right amount of something, or how good this one particular piece of foam feels. Seriously, touch it, it is so good, I carry around a 5cm square of it in my handbag these days. It was in the bottom of a wooden box of fancy wines at work and they were going to just throw it out. If you press on it gently it feels like it is a crumbling piece of florists foam, but it is just regular foam, so you don't end up with green gritty stuff, AND it pops back up so you can do it again. It's so fucking good.

I like how my heart feels like it is going to explode when I think about my dogs and my bird and my mum and my car and my piece of foam and the idea of bridges and my stuffed toys and my fluffy rug and being in the river and sitting in front of a fire and being engrossed in a story, because I can love things so so much that I could combust.

And I like that I take things maybe a little too seriously sometimes. I like that my brain tries to think about a thing from every vantage point it can find, even though it will never find them all. Maybe part of it is being done because I am worried about the other people who are being exposed to what I am putting out there. But I think it is more like my thoughts are like that magnetic slime, just fully engulfing an iron cube of an idea, so excited to have something to connect with that it is incapable of not taking it a little too far.

Also, a bonus one, just because: I love how wild my metaphors are.

[kuriboo]

Hugsaku 2021

Day 2 - Don’t Touch Me | “I don’t want your help!”

I handwrote my first three entries for this, this part being the last one I handwrote. I was able to start typing it out after this, thankfully, since that was a lot easier. 

This is the third part of a continuous fic I’m writing for hugsaku week: Yusaku ends in Heartland with no idea of how he got there or how to get home, and Yuma commits to helping Yusaku out. I’m also posting the whole story together on ao3. I’ll post the link to it in the notes. I hope you enjoy!

--

“What do you mean you don't like hugs?"

"I don't like people touching me. At all.”

Yusaku walked ahead of Yuma, pulling on the jacket of his school uniform. His hands had gone into muscle memory to loosely tie his tie around his neck. Pulling it too tightly felt uncomfortable, like a noose around his neck, but this made him look more sloppy and disheveled. He didn't dislike that. It seemed to be a fairly average look for boys his age. Yuma, meanwhile, had just changed out of his school uniform and into an outfit similar to what he'd worn when he met Yusaku; Yuma had just gotten out at school. For some reason, Yuma had thought it was a good idea to let Yusaku sleep until he got home, rather than wake him up so he could begin his search to get home. Yusaku didn't need that much rest. Between that and Yuma’s apparent constant desire for physical contact, he was a little annoyed. 

“How can you not like hugs? They’re good for the soul!" 

"Alright, boys, hold it right there." 

Both boys turned around to look up at Yuma’s older sister, Kari. Most of her red hair was kept back in a ponytail, but her bangs framed her face . Like Yuma, she had some strands of pink hair, a fact that made Yusaku pull self-consciously at the pink strands in his own hair. She always seemed to stick to casual clothes since she was old enough to be done with school. She wore a nice blouse under a hooded vest, as well as galaxy print leggings. Kari sighed, her attention focused on Yuma. "Yuma, leave him alone and apologize.” 

"But Kari- "

Kari cut him off. " I thought we taught you better than this, Yuma. No means no, If he doesn't like being touched, that's all there is to it."

Yuma turned to Yusako, biting his lip. " You're right, Kari... Sorry, Yusaku.”

Yusaku shrugged. "It's okay," As long as Yuma backed off in the future, that was all that mattered in the end, he supposed.

Kari kept her attention on Yuma. "Now, is your room clean, or did you leave your clothes all over the place when you changed?"

"I'll, uh..." Yuma gulped. "I'll be right back!! " He dashed back towards his room at top-speed.

Kari rolled her eyes. "Sorry about him,” she said to Yusaku. "I know he can be a lot. 

Yusaku blinked. "Why is he so..."

"He's just like this with all his friends. And he's made a lot of new friends, lately. He insists anyone he duels is his friend. He's brought over more new friends in the past couple of months then I can count.”

“I'm not his friend. We didn't even duel; I declined his challenge." 

"That's probably enough for him.” Kari sighed. "I wish he wouldn’t duel so much. I know I'm hard on him about it, but someone has to be." She frowned at Yusaku. "He said you don't like to duel."

"Bad experiences." Yusaku shrugged, He refused to get any more specific than that, but he had a bit of respect for their mutual dislike of the game. "He said you don't like it either.”

“Most of it's because of him," Kari admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I love my little brother a lot. But that's actually the problem. Mom and Dad told me that dueling was going to put him in danger. I don't want to see him get hurt.” She sniffed. "I don't want to lose him. He's..." She sounded too upset to keep going from there. Yusaku didn't know how to respond to that.

Right in that moment, Yuma ran back into the room. “Okay okay, my room's clean now. Can we go?”

She recovered fast. "Fine, but you better be back before dark. You can't be late for dinner, and you still have homework to do!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it!” Yuma said in a tone that sounded like he'd already forgotten about the homework. "Come on Yusaku, you gotta meet Bronk and Tori!" 

Tori and Bronte turned out to be two of Yuma’s friends. The three of them were in the same class, and Yuma and Bronk dueled against each other a lot. 

“The five us us can figure this out together for sure," Yuma declared after they all met up in a local park. Yusaku was confused about Yuma's math for a second, until he remembered the apparent existence of Astral. “Right .. " Tori placed her hands on her hips. "So what's your master plan to figure this out,Yuma?"

Yuma stared blankly at her.

“Figured.” Tori stuck her tongue out at Yuma, then looked more softly at Yusaku. "What about you, Yusaku? Any thoughts?

Yusaku’s first instinct was always to hack his way out of his problems. “I'd see what I can find out on a computer, but I left mine at home and Kari is busy with hers." And Kolter’s hacking hot dog truck was at the same place Yusaku’s computer was: home.

“Finally, someone with a brain,” Tori said. "You're in high school, so of course you'd be smarter than Yuma.” Yusaku knew better than to make an assumption like that. "There's computers at the library we can use. And the library's close by.” 

"Libraries make me itchy," Yuma mumbled. 

“Just because you don't like to read doesn't mean they can't be helpful!" Brank laughed. 

When they got to the library, Tori jumped onto the first computer they found. "So, Yusaku, where are you from?"

"Den City."

Tori typed the city into a search on the Internet, but no results came up. Den City apparently didn't exist. "Uh..." 

"That can't be right,” Yusaku reached around Tori to type other queries in to the search. He wasn't stupid enough to search for himself. He went out of his way to make himself as unmemorable and invisible as possible. But he tried other things. Den City High School. Akira Zaizen. SOL Technologies. Playmaker. Blue Angel. Link Vrains. It all came up with nothing. "There's no way…”

(“Maybe he really is from another world.”)

Pain throbbed in Yusaku’s head. This couldn't be right. "It's like my entire life just doesn't exist…” What was he supposed to do without Kolter or Ai? Who was he supposed to be if the Lost Incident never happened or if he wasn’t Playmaker? Now what did he do? 

Yuma, Tori, and Bronk each shared a look. “We'll just have to work even harder to help you get back home, then.” 

"I don't even know if I can get home.” If he remembered how he got here, he could at least try reverse engineering that, but Yusaku didn’t even have that much. He was alone, in a strange place where he didn't exist. He had nothing here to drive him, no reason to keep going.I have nothing to go on,” Yusaku muttered to himself. "What’s the point?"

“There's still a chance. It's small, but as long as it's there it's worth trying. We can't give up yet,” Yuma insisted.

Yusaku stared blankly at him. "’We'? I never said I wanted your help. Actually, I don't want your help.” All he was doing was wasting their time. “Just leave me alone." 

Tori and Bronk actually laughed at that. "You really don't get it, do you?” Tori asked. "Asking Yuma not to help someone is like telling a bird not to fly." 

"It's about feeling the flow!" Yuma added. "And right now, I’m feeling it. Now that we're friends, I'm not giving up. I don't care if you think it's hopeless, Yusaku. It might look that way, but there's always hope deep down if you look hard enough. We're going to get you home."

"Now that you're friends with Yuma, you can't get out of it,” Bronk added. “Yuma always does everything he can to help his friends. And any friend of Yuma's a friend of ours, too, so now you're stuck with all of us." 

Yusaku couldn't really get it. His idea of friendship was clearly different from theirs. But he could see he couldn't talk them out of it. "If you're not going to give up, I guess I have no choice. It looks like I can't give up, either." 

"Great!" Yuma pumped his fist into the air. “Can we do a group hug?" 

Some part of Yusaku felt like he needed it. "Yeah." 

The three of them gathered next to Yusaku and brought him into a gentle but firm hug. Comforting and grounding. For a moment, Yusaku really believed they might be able to get him back home.

[alternatefandom]

Hakugei, A Physics Meta, or: the physics of backspin on tennis balls

Back in the day when I read Tenipuri for the very first time, I possessed a combination of three unfortunate traits: 1. I was a high school student, 2. I was a physics nerd, and 3. I played tennis. All this means I ended up loving Fuji Shuusuke far more than I should, because his counters are a thing of beauty and look like something that could just pop up in my physics exam. I may or may not have spent weeks playing with ball spins and getting yelled at by my tennis coach trying to figure out Fuji's counters. I admit to nothing.

So now I will hold a little physics class on one of my favorite tenipuri shots. Several disclaimers before we start:

Bear in mind that I am in no way an expert in physics or tennis; do not read this meta for anything other than your own amusement, or the Gods of Tennis, Academia, and References will judge you.

While I will be talking about how certain tenipuri shots are physically possible, I will not be talking about whether or not a human being can hit these shots with a racket. That would require calculating force and rotation speed, and I’m not doing that because I hate math.

For ease of understanding, I will be oversimplifying certain things. That said, if you spot a mistake, please tell me so we can discuss how to fix it.

Considering the age of this fandom, I’m assuming most of you have learned about force and momentum in high school. If you haven’t, however, here is a short crash course:

Force is something that causes an object to move faster or slower in a certain direction. For example, when you hit a still tennis ball with a racket, your racket is applying force to the tennis ball. Force is defined as Mass x Acceleration.

Momentum is what an object has when it’s moving. For example, when your tennis ball is flying over the net, your tennis ball has a forwards momentum. Momentum is defined as Mass x Velocity

Applying force to an object causes its momentum to change. The longer force is applied, the more its momentum changes. For example, the longer you spend pushing a shopping cart, the faster it will roll after you let go of it. Momentum is defined as Force x length of Time force is applied

Okay! Now we can start with the meta. The first shot I will be talking about is my favorite Fuji counter, Hakugei. @sandreeen, this meta is dedicated for you.

Amongst all of Fuji's counters, I think Hakugei is actually the simplest, and easiest to replicate by hand. Below is an illustration of Hakugei, plus the explanation we got when Fuji used it against Akugatawa Jirou for the first time.

From this illustration we can summarize the movements of the ball as follows:

1. The ball was hit with a slice, resulting in a backspin.

2. The ball then flies in an upwards curve.

3. The ball falls back down.

4. The ball bounces back towards Fuji.

5. The ball is caught by Fuji.

Now let's analyze these movements one by one.

1. The ball was hit with a slice, resulting in a backspin.

A backspin is simply a ball that rotates backwards towards the player. Fuji slices the bottom of the ball to create this spin. It could be illustrated as follows.

For the rest of the meta, all illustrations will be drawn with the assumption that Fuji is standing to your left, hitting the ball towards your right.

2. The ball flies in an upwards curve

Have you ever seen a fast-moving train pass by a pile of leaves? If you have, you may see the leaves get sucked into the path of the train. This is a demonstration of the Bernoulli Principle. The fast-moving train drags the air around it along, causing the air to move very fast. As a result, the air pressure near the train drops. A bit farther away, though, the air is still, meaning the air pressure there is higher. The pressure difference causes air from farther away to rush near the train, taking the leaves along. 

This is basically what happens to Fuji’s Hakugei. As the tennis ball moves rightwards with a momentum of p, the air around it moves leftwards (A). Above the ball, the ball’s backspin (LA) drags the air to the left, moving it faster (A + LA). However, below the ball, the air was dragged to the right (LB), so it moves slower (A - LB). As the air above the ball is moving faster (A +LA) than the air below the ball (A - LB), the air pressure above the ball is lower than beneath the ball. Thus, the ball is rushed upwards (FM). This is called the Magnus Effect.

3. The ball falls down.

Not much to say here. Because of air resistance and drag and all those pesky forces that we generally ignore in high school physics, the ball will eventually slow down, meaning the effect of the ball’s spin on air speed will fade. Therefore, the Magnus effect will grow weaker. Gravity will eventually prevail, and the ball will come crashing back to the ground.

4. The ball bounces back towards Fuji

Now this is the interesting part--how the ball bounces back. Note that for this part, we will assume that the effects of air resistance and drag is negligible, and thus can be wholly ignored. Now, let’s first examine the most important forces acting on the ball in the instant before it hits the ground.

On the vertical axis, the ball is accelerating down, thanks to the force of gravity. This force is represented by Fg. 

On the horizontal axis, the ball is moving to the right. The ball is not being affected horizontally by any kind of outside force, therefore, it moves at a constant speed. We can say that the ball is moving rightwards with a momentum of p.

The combination of Fg and p causes the ball to move in the direction of A.

Speaking of movement, other than vertical and horizontal movements, the ball is also spinning. Again, the ball’s spin is not being affected by any outside force. We can say that the ball is spinning constantly with an angular momentum of L.

And then the ball hits the ground.

Newton’s third law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. On the vertical axis, we have Fg, which applies a downwards force upon the court. The court gives an equal and opposite reaction in Fn, which applies an upwards force upon the ball. This explains why the ball bounces upwards [1].

Meanwhile, in the horizontal axis, things get a little more complicated. We have the ball’s backwards spin interacting with the ground here. The ball’s spin produces an angular momentum of L, which gives a rightwards linear momentum of ps for the court. 

Since the court is a stationary object and (hopefully) cannot move, the court’s momentum itself should stay at zero. We can now forget about the court. Any change of momentum will happen to the tennis ball, so let’s get back to that green fuzzy thing.

Newton’s third law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The Momentum Conservation Principle, which is derived from this law, states that in a collision, the change in the colliding objects’ momentum are also equal in magnitude, but opposite in directions.

According to the Momentum Conservation Principle, because its initial momentum (ps) is directed rightwards, after the collision, the ball’s momentum should change leftwards in the opposite direction. This change in momentum is represented by pr.

So when the ball hits the ground, horizontally, there are two different momentums fighting for dominance--pr and p [2]. To ensure the ball bounces to the left as Hakugei would, pr has to win this battle. Since pr is derived from ps, which in turn is derived from the ball’s angular momentum (L), the key to making Hakugei bounce back is to ensure that the ball’s angular momentum (L) is great enough to overpower its linear momentum (p). In other words, the ball has to spin quickly enough to overpower its own linear momentum (p).

Should pr be able to overpower p, the next direction of the tennis ball can be summed up by the following:

As you see, the ball will bounce back in the direction of B. No physics-defying magic necessary.

And now, let’s ask the real question: how great is the spin you need for the ball to bounce back? Well, not so great that you can’t achieve it by hand [3]. In fact, this was my favorite trick to do while running laps; the ball bounces back to me, so it’s easier to control, and I can maintain a slower pace without having to chase after recalcitrant balls. Of course, this only works on even grounds that can provide enough friction for the ball, such as tennis courts (if you’re using tennis balls) or basketball courts (if you’re using basketballs). On uneven grounds, the bounce is much less predictable, so beware where you try this trick!

5. The ball is caught by Fuji

To complete Hakugei, the ball must bounce back to the opposite side of the court and is caught by Fuji. Now considering that the ball has lost a lot of horizontal momentum when it hit the ground (in the battle between pr and p), it’s hard to believe that Hakugei could have enough force to return to Fuji all by itself. Therefore, Fuji cannot rely on the tennis ball itself to come back to him. Instead, he has to rely on another force: the wind.

How strong does the wind need to be to carry Hakugei all the way back to Fuji? Well, I honestly have no idea. Tennis balls are unexpectedly heavy, so I think it must be pretty strong, but I can’t say if it could reliably happen in your average tennis match. So, even though Hakugei should be physically possible, the wind factor makes it hard to use in an actual match.

In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, this is why Hakugei is not only totally badass but also obeys the law of physics. If you read all the way here, thank you; you’re brilliant, and I hope my explanations didn’t give you too much trouble. I have no idea why I was insane enough to write this. However, I hope now you appreciate Fuji’s Hakugei as much as I do. After all, it takes a certain kind of person to be a Badass Normal in a world of Ten’imuhou no Kiwamis, Devil Modes, and Pirates of the World--and Fuji Shuusuke may just be the right genius to pull it off.

————————

[1] The reality is more complex than that, of course, involving air pressure inside the ball and such, but it’s not quite necessary to discuss that to understand Hakugei.

[2] There are a lot of other things going on here, especially with friction, which helps turns the ball’s point of contact with the court into a ‘pivot’ for pr’s momentum. There are also things going on with the air pressure inside the ball, which affects the length of time the ball stays in contact with the court and may further help pr overpower p.

[3] Theoretically, hitting a Hakugei with a racket should require a greater spin than throwing a backspin ball by hand. This is because the ball needs to travel further from the racket, against a strong headwind, not to mention other things that will reduce its spin such as air resistance.

[4] Hakuryuu probably works with similar principles, but with an angled backspin/topspin, depending on the situation. If I had to guess, I’d say Twist Serve works the same way, too. However, I still reserve judgement on whether Hakuryuu is physically possible.

[5] Tennis ball image by freepik.

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations

This is a fic that I originally told myself I wouldn’t post any of until it was complete.   Evidently I lied.  It’s not complete but I do have 21k words and eight chapters built up already.  It was meant to be Gordon’s story of how he ended up in WASP but the other brothers have decided to put in an appearance too (I blame the boys and also @willow-salix​ for encouraging them)

I’ve also set myself a secondary challenge with this to produce a piece of art for each chapter.  I’m hoping to try out different styles and hopefully make some progress over time.  This first bit was very much about getting a feel for the tools (a challenge seeing as I first have to wrestle the drawing pad away from the small person who just likes being able to make rainbow glitter pictures)

Anyway....

xoxoxox

Summary: Jeff Tracy has very strong beliefs about what he expects from his sons.  Sometimes his expectations are at odds with what his sons themselves want from life, especially Gordon.  

Chapter One

The office was tiny, barely large enough for the single desk it contained.  It didn’t really matter.  This room no longer had a permanent resident. State wide cuts to the careers service and an investment in online guidance meant that careers advisors were stretched across districts; a few lonely individuals doing the rounds of the high schools to dispense reassurance and wisdom in statutory ten minute blocks.  As a consequence this area of the school hadn’t been refurbished in many years and had a general air of neglect.  The carpet tiles had been worn bald in a clear path to the two chairs in the room, one in front of the desk and one behind.  The painted cinderblock walls were covered in posters, bleached and faded by the California sun, bearing inspirational quotes.  

 You can do anything!

 Be the change you want to see

 Aim for the skies

 The posters mirrored the sentiments he had heard at home too many times.  Although at home they tended to come tinged with disappointment as he handed over yet another report card that didn’t meet the standard set by the siblings who had gone before.  Yale, Harvard and the Denver School of Advanced Technology had already accepted a Tracy.  Gordon just couldn’t match up to their lofty heights of academic success.  He was bright but that just got overshadowed by the glittering trio above him.  Anything he did had always been done better by at least one, but more often all, of his older brothers.  

 The pressure to achieve academic excellence had lessened slightly as his swimming training had ramped up in intensity.  As competitions progressed from local, to state, to national, to international the family had grown to accept that this was no passing hobby.  But Gordon still lived with the constant threat that he would be pulled out the pool if his grades dropped too low.  It was taking all his energy to keep on top of his school work to the required B- average insisted on by his father so that he could keep doing the one thing he felt truly good at.  The one thing that set him apart from his over-achieving brothers.

 At least the teachers didn’t judge him or at least couldn’t judge him against his more intellectual siblings.  As soon as John had graduated high school and started at Harvard, an accomplishment for which he was several years younger than the average after skipping a couple of grades, Jeff had moved himself and the youngest boys away from rural Kansas to Los Angeles.  The old farmhouse was retained but was no longer a permanent base for the family.

 The move to the city was a strategic decision by Jeff and one that was only delayed in order to allow John to complete his high school education without the disruption of an inter-state move.  For Jeff it meant the ability to site himself in the commercial heartlands expected of the business that was flourishing under his direction.  It also meant he was able to get back each night to care for his youngest children, even if he sometimes didn’t make it back to the apartment before midnight.

 It may have been expected that Jeff Tracy, an individual rapidly climbing the lists of America’s richest and most influential individuals, would have used the move as an opportunity to enrol his youngest sons in the finest educational establishment Los Angeles had to offer. But Jeff Tracy was a man raised in Kansas wheat fields.  A man for whom his own success and the successes of his eldest three sons had been built on the foundations of learning delivered in small town rural schools. What was good enough for him was good enough for all his children.  There were no private tutors or exclusive schools.  Gordon and Alan found themselves enrolled in the regular district school with its air of neglect and underfunding.

 A large part of Gordon really wanted to be back in his math class.  Not because he had any great fondness for the subject but because he found it hard in a way the others didn’t.  He was not above digging out Virgil’s old annotated English texts or Scott’s history files if he wanted a bit of extra insight for his essays but math was different. Any notes left by his siblings were generally an incomprehensible scrawl.  Not that any of them had made many math notes; they all seemed to just get it.  

 Gordon still remembered the first time after John had headed off to Harvard that he had called for help with his homework.  John had tried to be patient but there had been an unmistakeable tone of annoyance accompanied by a condescending eye roll clearly visible on the call screen.  Gordon had been left in no doubt that John found the idea of a Tracy struggling with algebra to be frankly insulting.  Virgil had displayed rather more patience and understanding but the pity that came with the help was too much for Gordon to take.  He didn’t want to find out what Scott’s reaction would be.  The golden haloed first-born was becoming increasingly distant and superior as his career in the Air Force progressed.  

 And so Gordon ploughed on alone.  Taking study guides to swim competitions to read between the heats.  Trying to juggle the conflicting demands of Team USA and Team Tracy.  The former striving for physical excellence and peak performance, the latter demanding excellence across the board.

 The careers advisor on the far side of the desk looked up at the young man sat opposite her.  The school records showed he was academically above average.  He had prospects.  

 The students that entered her office tended to fall into three broad categories.  There were the ones that didn’t really need their regulation advice session having already got their chosen career path mapped out, whether that involved furthering their education or just jumping straight into the local jobs market. There were those that were bewildered and clueless about where to turn next.  Then there were those that just didn’t seem to care and who drifted through her office much like they drifted through the rest of their school career. She wondered which she would encounter in this interview.

 “So Gordon” she smiled at the teenager, “have you considered what you want to do after you graduate high school?”

 The teen looked at her with a slightly surprised expression.

 “Swim, ma’am”  

 It was said bluntly and without preamble, accompanied by a mid-western politeness that the move to the city hadn’t shaken off. Stated as fact rather than as some hypothetical idea.  She had encountered plenty of teenagers with dreams of making it big on the sporting circuit but very few made it professional.  Usually the dreams were of football or basketball; swimming was a new one to add to her list.  

 “Swim?”

 “Yes ma’am, swim.  I’ve already got my qualifying time sorted.  Come the summer I’ll be at the Olympics.”

 Cogs clicked into place.  This was her nineteenth interview of the day and the students were beginning to blur together, even with the supplementary notes put together by the tutors that actually got to see these kids each day.  The low attendance scores suddenly made sense. Gordon Tracy, the rising star of the swimming circuit.

 “Of course.”  She flustered slightly over her notes.  It was a new experience to have a member of the Olympic squad sat before her. But she was obliged to be a sounding board for his career choice for the next ten minutes.  She couldn’t just send him back to class off the back of a one word answer.  She decided to stick to familiar territory; if they know the plan, find out the backup plan.

 “Have you considered what you will do after swimming? You have good grades here.  I’d recommend making a college application.”

 The youngster gave a hollow sort of chuckle. “Not good enough for anywhere that matters.  I think I’ll stick to what I’m good at, ma’am.”

 The interview was brought to a close by the final bell of the day and Gordon was glad to be able to scoop up his rucksack and escape the claustrophobic confines of the office.  He was sure the careers advisor meant well but he felt that the session was a pretty pointless experience.  Actually being in class would have been a better use of his time.

 As he reached the front of the school he spied Alan waiting for him in their usual spot.  The younger boy was scuffing his shoes in the dirt while waiting, the bored expression of his face breaking into smile when he saw his older brother.  They set off on the short walk back the apartment.

 “Good day, Al?”

 “Yeah, ok”

 “Much homework?”

 Alan grimaced.  He was about as fond of homework as Gordon was.

 “I’ll take that as a yes.  Well make sure you get on with it as soon as we get in.  No video games until it’s finished.”

 “Yes Sir!”  The response was accompanied by a mocking salute which earned Alan a gentle whack on the back of the head.

 “Hey, less of that.  I’m not Scott.  But seriously Al, just make sure you get it done.  I’ve got an extra training session tonight but only a short one; you’ll have the place to yourself until about 6.  I’ll sort us some dinner once I’m home.”

 “Will you be able to play video games with me once you’re back.”

 “Sorry, I’ll have my own work to get on with.”

 Alan’s shoulders slumped dejectedly and his feet dragged along the sidewalk.

 “Another quiet night then.”

 Gordon hated seeing Alan so flat.  The pair spent a significant amount of time together and, like all his brothers, he had a desire to protect the youngest.  He wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the shorter boy and was rewarded with a shove in the ribs.  Evidently anything even slightly resembling a hug in public was out this close to the school grounds.

 “I’ll see what I can do.”

 They had reached the apartment by this point. Gordon dashed inside to grab his swimming kit and left Alan with strict instructions to make sure he got all his homework done.  He didn’t like leaving Alan home alone but it was a regular occurrence now.  Their father wouldn’t be home for hours and with all the others moved away the youngest two had got used to fending for themselves.  He left Alan with a promise that they would spend some time together later.

 The training session passed in a blur of drills.  There were now more days with both morning and evening training in preparation for the Olympics and the extra workouts were taking their toll.  By the time Gordon reached the apartment his shoulders ached and all he wanted to do was stand under a scalding hot shower before collapsing in to bed.  Unfortunately he knew he had other responsibilities to attend to first.

 Gordon rolled his shoulders, plastered on a smile and scanned the entry system for the apartment.

 xoxoxox

 Normally weekday meals were Gordon’s domain or he was at least there to help out if Alan ventured into the kitchen.  But he had completed his homework quicker than expected and in the boredom of the empty apartment it had seemed like a good idea to start dinner.

 He took the pack of greens from the fridge, prodded the pan of pasta and gave the chicken a quick stir.  As he sliced the greens an acrid smell assaulted his nostrils.  The chicken, which had been cooking nicely until now seemed to have chosen the moment he took his eye off the ball to catch and stick to the bottom of the pan.  Carefully prepared strips of prime breast disintegrated and crumbled as he tried to scrape the dried out offerings from the base of the pan.  He cursed, turned out the stove, and went back to preparing the greens.  

 The clock ticked closer to 6pm.  Steam rose in billows from the pan of greens which had reached a rapid boil.  Perhaps he should have waited until Gordon was actually home before cooking the vegetables, the shredded leaves were starting to disintegrate.  

 At least the pasta should be ok.  

 The pasta which wasn’t boiling.

 More cursing filled the air as Alan realised his error. In his attempt to salvage the chicken he had turned off the heat under the pasta as well.  Perhaps he should have just let Gordon cook the whole thing. This was a mistake.  All he wanted to do was free up some time in the hope of getting a game in with Gordon and instead he had ruined everything.  He wondered if it was too late to dig out the emergency credit card and call for take out.  He would just have to make sure Dad took it out of his allowance rather than Gordon’s.

 The sound of the front door broke through his thoughts.

 “Hi Alan.”  The voice echoed up the hallway.  Footsteps approached, only pausing briefly as a kit bag was launched into a room, landing in a corner with a heavy thud.  Too late to salvage anything now, within moments Gordon was in the doorway.  “Hey, you cooked.  Thanks”

 “No need to sound so surprised.  Don’t thank me til you’ve tried it though.  It’s, um, not really gone to plan.”

 “I’m sure it’s fine.  Want me to drain these pans while you get the plates out?”

 Alan signalled his agreement by delving into the crockery cupboard leaving Gordon to drain and stir together the contents of the various pans.  He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the meal but Gordon seemed grateful to be spared the chore.

 Dinner was everything Alan expected it to be.  They sat opposite sides of the kitchen counter, Gordon shovelling down vast quantities of noodles while he picked at his own much smaller portion.  The meat was as dry as cardboard and stuck in his throat alongside the shards of undercooked pasta. Perhaps he ought to pay more attention in the kitchen, especially as Gordon was likely to be training more and more over the coming months.

 Gordon’s fork clattered onto the empty plate before Alan was even half way through.  He looked up to see eyes the colour of mahogany under the harsh kitchen lights looking at him with concern.

 “You ok?  You’ve hardly eaten.”

 “I’m fine.  Just wishing I’d ordered us a pizza instead.”  He waved a forkful of charred chicken to emphasise his point.

 This earned him a small chuckle and at least dispelled the worry.

 “Hey, no complaints from me over it.  I think my coach would have something so say about that too, we’ll save the pizza for the summer.  I’ll start clearing up while you finish off.  You still want that game?”

 Alan grinned.  Suddenly the pasta was a lot easier to stomach if there was a chance to thrash his brother in the goblin realms at the end of it.  

 xoxoxox

 As the clock ticked past midnight and into the small hours of the morning Gordon lay in the darkness, sleep refusing to come.  His normally comfortable bed felt too lumpy and he turned this way and that.  First facing the blank wall next to the bed, then the ceiling and finally the open room. A shelf of trophies glinted faintly in the light that managed to spill around the edges of the heavy blackout curtains.  Back in Kansas Gordon had rarely bothered closing his curtains; he had always been an early riser and was usually up long before the dawn in order to get to early morning training or fit in a gym session before school.  But the pervading yellow glow of the city from the ever present light pollution wasn’t like the peaceful moon.  On nights like this the city felt oppressive and he yearned for the open fields of home, as he still though of Kansas.  Gordon might now be able to access better training facilities and coaches which had enhanced his Olympic prospects but he had never embraced city life.

 He was exhausted.  The training session after school had been intense and he had thrown himself into the drills with maximum effort.  The gaming session had probably been a mistake but he hadn’t wanted to let Alan down.  The kid had gone to the trouble of trying to make dinner and save him a job.  Ok, the noodles had been still firm to the point of being slightly crunchy and the greens had been on the verge of turning to soup but it’s the thought that counts.  It was calories.  It was from his prescribed meal plan.  It was mostly edible.  He appreciated the level of consideration shown by a teenager who shouldn’t have any more pressing concerns than getting his chemistry paper completed and working out whether Ellen from World Studies class had a crush on him.

 His own homework had been its usual slog.  He wrote until his eyes became sticky and the notes he was reading became a jumbled blur.  Sleep should have enveloped him within minutes of climbing into bed but instead the words from his earlier interview kept churning around his head.  The thoughts drowning out even the gnawing ache in his overworked muscles.  

 What about after?

 He had always managed to stave these thoughts off before.  Whenever his father had made comments about future plans he has always managed to deflect the conversations.  He didn’t have room in his head for anything other than visualising the dream.  Why on earth should the words of a complete stranger, parroted from some state approved script, make life any different.

 He was a Tracy.  A name synonymous success and achievement.  He had found his calling in a way that set him apart from the others.  

 He was going to swim.

 He was going to represent his country.

 He was going to win.

 He ran through the visualisation that had been a constant companion in his head for years.  He could feel the flow of the water over his body as his muscles flexed in perfect synchronicity.  He could hear the roar of the crowd as the results flashed up on the scoreboard.  He rode the wave of emotion as the medal was presented.  This was the moment that would mark him out as more than just the fourth son of an astronaut.  Gordon Cooper Tracy.  A name in his own right.

 With the sound of the national anthem still ringing in his ears Gordon tried to visualise the next steps.  He tried to force the dream beyond its current conclusion but instead found only darkness.  

[astrabecks]

introducing astra!!

first of all, hi, i’m arielle! i reside in the cst timezone, go by she/her pronouns, and i’m super excited to be here :) outer banks is my shit so saying i’m excited is an understatement. i also play wesley here! but enough about me....

(( giorgia whigham, 22, she/her, bisexual )) have you met [ASTRA BECK]? they’re a well known [POGUE] in the outer banks. rumor has it they can be [RESOURCEFUL && ADVENTUROUS] but also [SECRETIVE && RECKLESS]. they’ve lived on the island for [TWENTY TWO] years and work as a [FREELANCE HACKER AND MECHANIC]. when you hear their name, you can always picture [LATE NIGHTS SPENT IN FRONT OF A COMPUTER SCREEN, BRUISES AND CUTS LITTERING HER SMALL BODY, WITTY COMEBACKS TO EVERY SITUATION]. 

TW: suicide, parental death, verbal & physical abuse, drugs, alcohol

BORN ON MAY 14, 1998 & RAISED IN THE OUTER BANKS, astra beck knows this place like the back of her hand. although technically, she was born as alexandra marie beck, but no one hasn’t called her that in a long time. being the only daughter of a prostitute and a drug addict, astra was never destined for the “kook” life. she was fending for herself by the tender age of five, as her parents quite literally did not care to interact with her. with that being said, astra has quite the warped view of families and love - not having either for her entire childhood. to her, families are chosen, not born.

VICIOUS INSULTS LACED WITH POISON were frequently inflicted upon her by the two people who were supposed to love her the most - her parents. you see, the two were never married and had a very toxic relationship, so would often take their anger out on an innocent astra. the young girl retreated into her shell and refused to talk to any of the other kids at school - all because she believed the words her father said the most “ you’ll never amount to anything “. 

WITH NO FRIENDS OR FAMILY TO TURN TO astra sought comfort in her books. reading was a way for her to escape to an alternate reality, a place where young girls were brave and could fight off the most terrifying monsters. by the time she was 9, she spent most afternoons at the public library, staying there until the librarians forced her to head home. 

ONE NIGHT IN PARTICULAR, astra had just gotten back to her family’s trailer when she felt something was off. it’s practically unexplainable, but she just knew that something was wrong. her father met her at the door, where he told her that her mother had taken her own life. astra didn’t say a word. but what was she supposed to do? she was barely 13 years old - she couldn’t process it. 

A WEEK LATER, AT THE FUNERAL, astra still hadn’t spoken a word to her father. in all honestly, she was terrified of him. his way of coping was violence, and astra was the target. this was when the physical abuse started. once her father was drunk, there was no going back. it didn’t happen too often, but some nights, astra’s father would come home, the smell of alcohol reeking off his body, and he’d hit her.

TOO SCARED TO GET HELP, astra simply let it all happen. soon, her father started disappearing more, sometimes being gone for a week at a time. astra was never told where he was going, but was given $50 and instructions on how to buy food for herself. she’d stay home alone sometimes, but she also stayed at friends houses.

WHEN IT CAME TO SCHOOL, astra was always the top of her classes. even though she was bullied for her tiny malnourished figure and the fact that she lived out of a trailer, she maintained a 4.0 average and never turned an assignment in late. she especially excelled in coding and math classes though - where she found her passion truly lies. to get extra cash, she often tutored student, even kooks, in those classes.

HER FRIENDS WERE HER ROCKS, they kept her sane and made sure she had a place to sleep at night. she loves them more than anything in the world. they were typical teens - spending late nights on the beach, getting drunk off their parents alcohol, fucking around...

WHEN SHE WAS 17 YEARS OLD, her father left and never returned. no note, no explanation, nothing. obviously, astra didn’t care too much - they had never been close. it was, however, concerning for the school when he didn’t show up for her parent-teacher conferences. so, astra worked up an elaborate lie and wrote down the address of a friend’s house for where she was living. if they knew the truth, astra would’ve been forced into a foster home, and there was no way in hell she was doing that. besides, she’d been self-sufficient for most of her life anyways.

NOW, astra has been working as a mechanic for the past four years. you name it, she can fix it, or at least get it looking pretty again. on the side, she’s a mild kleptomaniac, and enjoys stealing shit from kooks for fun. additionally, she’s an expert hacker, and can get you any information on anyone, can hack into security systems, and can access bank accounts. in terms of relationships, she’s pretty reserved and non-trusting. she’s just afraid of people leaving her like her parents did. lastly, she’s lowkey into drug dealing? but only when she needs the extra cash. 

[kenzieam]

The Tutor - Chapter One

Pairing: AU Bucky X Levi

Rating: M (my usual, lovelies)

Warnings: language, drama, angst, mentions of abuse

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@iammarylastar​​​​​​​​​​ @captstefanbrandt​​​​​​​​​​ @jewels2876​​​​​​​​​​ @moonbeambucky​​​​​​​​​​​ @badassbaker​​​​​​​​​​ @everythingisoverrated​​​​​​​​​​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​​​​​​ @oliviastan17​​​​​​��​​ @igothroughphasesalot​​​​​​​ @sashli​​​​​​ @lorilane33​​​​ @pinknerdpanda​​​​

I KNOW I’M MISSING TAGS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN

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Levi the jock needs help in high school and her twin brother, Steve, volunteers his newest friend, Bucky. Seemingly just to piss her off, Bucky accepts but soon realizes there’s more to the Levi than she lets the average spectator see.

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Word Count: 4600+

“Coach is going to give you detention again.” Steve warned, fixing Levi with a glower.

“So?”

“So? So, you’ll get benched.” Steve stared at his sister incredulously for a moment; although they’d shared a womb, he sometimes had a hard time believing they were related. If there ever was an example of ‘good twin, bad twin’ then he and his sister were the picture you saw in the dictionary.

“Hasn’t happened yet.” Levi replied, the sweet tone in her voice belying the twinkle of mischief in her violet eyes.

“First time for everything, Junior. And the school years just started.”

“Stop being such a Senior.” Levi teased, skipping to Steve’s side and burrowing against him, her fingers finding his tickly spot on his ribs.

“What the- quit it!” Steve tried for firm, but it was useless. Levi was four minutes younger than him, hence the ‘Junior’ but it seemed like four years sometimes and despite himself, he couldn’t maintain any real anger towards her. Grabbing her in a bear hug, he lifted her right off the ground and shook her, like a terrier with a rat, until she started shrieking in earnest, stumbling away from him when he finally set her back down.

“Ass.” She commented mildly, making a show of fixing her hair. It was a lost cause, she kept it in a ponytail or under a hat so much that when she did actually set it free, it didn’t seem to know what to do and clumped together in half-hearted dreads for safety.

“I’m serious, Levi.” Steve dropped all humor from his voice. “You keep pushing and you’ll get bit. And then what’s Brock going to say?”

A flash of real trepidation in her unique eyes. “Fuck him.”

“Kind of gross, he’s our stepdad.”

“I wish dad was still alive.”

“Me too, but he’s not. And don’t be making this harder on Mom by provoking Brock unnecessarily.”

Levi glowered at Steve, but he saw that he’d won, at least for now. In the absence of their father, and with the surly Brock Rumslow in his place, Levi and Steve were always and forever united in the goal of keeping the peace for Mom. What she saw in Rumslow they had no idea, for he was boorish at the best of times with the twins, and outright bad-tempered at the worst but he treated their mother like a precious jewel. He’d pursued her in high school like a puppy, lost her to dad in college, then found her again after their dad had died. His love for her was still strong, but he definitely didn’t like the physical reminders of his late competition hanging around. For the most part, it wasn’t bad; Steve was better at keeping the peace than most international ambassadors and Levi’s only real Achilles Heel was her love for her mom and brother, so most of the time, things stayed pretty even keel in the Rumslow-Rogers home.

But Levi getting benched would definitely rock the boat.

“You need help, a tutor or something.” Steve continued, starting to walk away from the school. Levi fell in step beside him, swinging her canvas backpack like she was batting gnomes out of her way. “If you fail the next few tests, you’ll get pulled from the team.”

“I don’t need a tutor.” Levi growled.

“Then why are you failing math?”

“Because Fury’s an asshole.”

“It’s not the teacher’s fault and you know it.”

A low snarl was his only reply and Steve looked away to hide his grin. “And I suppose it’s Banner’s fault you’re in trouble with science and Stark’s with engineering?”

“Yes. They like you, asshat. I’m the bad twin, remember?”

“They like me because I show up and listen, when you do deign to attend, you goof around.”

“Deign to attend? Who taught you such big words? Peggy the prom queen and school newspaper editor?”

“Quit it.” Steve rebuked mildly. Despite her current attitude, Levi wasn’t really a mean person and her rivalry with Steve’s girlfriend was fairly benign, based mostly on having to share Steve’s time and attention. Deciding to change the subject, he continued as they walked down the sidewalk. “Maybe I’ll ask Bucky.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

“A guy in our class, he just moved here at the start of the year.”

“Don’t remember him.”

“He’s not on any sports teams, so he’s off your radar. He’s more into Art and stuff. Crazy smart too.”

“He won’t want to tutor me.”

“Why not? He hardly knows you; he has idea what he’s in for.”

“Funny, asshole.”

“Peace, Junior.” Steve chuckled, trapping Levi in a headlock long enough to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m just teasing. He’s pretty laid back, quiet. I think he’d really help you.”

“And what’s in it for him?”

“I don’t know, you haven’t asked him yet.”

“It’s your idea, you ask him.”

“You’re the one that needs a tutor.”

“Fine. Where can I find the Messiah himself?”

“Actually… he’s right over there.” Steve pointed to a figure approximately half a block ahead. As they spoke, he turned left onto the next block and quickly disappeared behind a house. “Better hurry.”

Levi rolled her eyes at her twin but shouldered her backpack silently and sprinted ahead.

“Hey! Ducky!” She called and Steve snorted a laugh. This was going to go over like a lead zeppelin. Moving into a jog, Steve followed his sister, turning the corner to see she’d caught up with Bucky a few hundred feet away and was now talking earnestly to him, with Bucky looking like he was searching for the quickest exit.

“Hey Bucky.” Steve called, raising a hand in greeting and Bucky visibly relaxed, running a hand through his fluffy dark hair. Levi turned to watch her brother approach before turning back to Bucky when Steve reached her side.

“This is your sister?” Bucky asked Steve, looking a little surprised.

“Yeah,” Steve grinned, as if admitting a shameful fact and Levi snorted indignantly.

“Can’t you tell?” She snarked. “We’re identical!”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, obviously not used to Levi’s unique brand of humor, which was mostly sarcasm anyway and looked back to Steve for help.

“She’s having trouble in some classes.”

“Only because the teachers are-” her protest was muffled by Steve covering her mouth with his hand and pulling her to his chest, into a gentle headlock, while he continued.

“And she could use some help. I was wondering if you’d be interested in tutoring her?”

Bucky’s brow lifted as he regarded Levi, who struggled ineffectually in Steve’s grip before poking him sharply in the side and pushing away huffily, glowering at both boys. “And she’s not into the idea?”

“I’m right here. You can talk directly to me, cave man. This isn’t the Forties or some shit.”

Bucky didn’t reply to her barb, instead looking back at Steve with an ‘are you serious’ quirk in his brow.

Steve elbowed his twin and hissed something low to her, receiving a stuck-out tongue in answer before addressing Bucky again. “She’ll pay you-”

“The hell I will!”

“Or else her report card is going to start a nuclear war when a certain someone gets a hold of it.” Steve continued, looking directly at Levi. She hissed something low in return and the fight was on.

Bucky took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. He was friends with Steve, almost from his very first class with the guy, he was just one of those magnetic personalities, and there was something about his fiery twin that drew him as well. Needling her, watching her reactions sparked an interest in him; it was like a sign his mother had hanging in their house, ‘Just because it’s a bad idea doesn’t mean it won’t be a good time.’

“Okay,” he replied, fighting a grin as both Roger’s twins stopped their bickering to stare at him in surprise. “How much?”

Levi opened her mouth to reply, probably with something non-monetary and related to fornicating with himself but Steve beat her to it.

“How much do you want?”

Bucky raised a brow, fighting a grin as Levi started to sputter. “We’ll work something out.”

“I’m not doing that, you pervert!” Levi broke free of her brother to shake her finger in Bucky’s face and he stepped back, face going serious.

“That’s not what I meant! You know what, never mind. This is a bad idea.” Bucky turned to walk away but Steve snagged his arm.

“Please.” There was a new note in Steve’s voice that made Bucky pause. “Our stepdad’s kind of a dick, if Levi has a bad report card or gets cut from the team…” he didn’t finish but his eyes spoke volumes. “Look,” Steve continued after an uncomfortable pause. “Levi stays good and we’re both looking at full scholarships far away from him. Whether she’s ready to admit it or not,” he fixed his sister with a hard glare, “she needs help.”

Bucky waited silently, not really thinking it over because he’d already made up his mind, but he wanted to see more of what Levi thought. Steve’s speech seemed to have taken the wind from her sails and there were even the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks. She flickered her amethyst eyes to his for a heartbeat before looking away again, seeming to swallow her pride before she cleared her throat and spoke.

“Steve’s right.” She ground out, realizing she was stuck and hating it. “I need help. Name your price, except that, and I promise to be good.” She flashed one more fiery glare at her brother. “I’m not stupid, I just don’t pay attention.”

“Which classes?” Bucky asked quietly. He remembered seeing Levi, and how could you miss her, she was the biggest personality in any room, and she didn’t seem to pay attention in any of them.

“All of them.” Levi grumbled sullenly.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, running through possible solutions in his head. “What days are you free after school?”

Levi bit back a snort. “Not many.”

“You have a job?”

“I busted ass all summer so I wouldn’t have to work now.”

“Okay, let’s meet at the library tomorrow, 3:30. Bring all the subjects you need help on, and we’ll work out some kind of schedule.”

“I don’t want everyone seeing this.”

Steve hissed low in reproach. “You can’t go home, if Brock comes home early and sees-”

“I know.” Levi’s eyes flashed with warning, she seemed to have dropped her bratty act and was genuinely uneasy.

“Sees you getting tutored or just with a guy?” Bucky asked.

The discomfort in the twin’s eyes hit him harder than he thought it would, what kind of dick was this stepdad?

“Tutored means I’m stupid, with a guy means I’m a slut.” Levi muttered, looking away.

“Jesus… okay. Come by my house, my mom’s usually not home till later.” And thank god; Bucky just didn’t bring girls home, he was almost painfully shy, and if his mom started to see Levi around, angry or disinterested would be the last things she’d be.

“Okay.” Levi replied, then added a gruff. “Thanks.”

That was probably the best he’d get today, so Bucky decided to go with it. “Sure, give me your number, I’ll text you my address.” He plugged in his number and texted himself before handing her phone back. Levi pocketed it sullenly.

A plan made, Bucky stuck out his hand, fighting a small grin because, at the moment, he was taking the piss and Levi didn’t disappoint by sticking out her tongue again.

“See you tomorrow.” Bucky replied easily. “Don’t stick your tongue out too far, I can see your piercing and I doubt this asshole stepdad of yours would approve.”

Levi’s beet red face was almost comical as he turned away and he could hear her grumbling behind him for a long time.

 **********************************************************************                    Bucky loitered outside the school the next day, leaning against the brick wall and scuffing his Chucks along the edge of the weathered sidewalk. Classes had ended almost ten minutes ago, and he was just about to text Levi to see where the hell she was when she burst out of the doors, surrounded by her minions and giggling loudly about something. Her startled stare told Bucky she’d completely forgotten about their meeting and he fought a curious mix of irritation and amusement.

She moved past him without a word and Bucky watched as her mob floated across the road to the student parking, saw her shake her head at one of her friends then turn and jog back into the school, breezing past him without acknowledgment. A minute later, the convoy of her friends had left, and Levi reappeared, hurrying to Bucky’s side with pink cheeks.

“Sorry-” she began.

“Jesus, you can’t even look at me until your friends are gone?” Bucky’s irritation had won out.

“Hey-”

“You know what? Forget it. I got better things to do.” Bucky stormed away, confusion fogging his brain. Why the fuck did he care if Levi wanted to hide him? What did it matter? His puzzled mediation was interrupted by a hand grabbing his bicep. He hissed sharply and yanked his arm away, the force of his reaction making both of them stagger backwards a few steps.

“Fuck… calm down.” Levi snapped. “What? Did I hurt you?”

“Actually, yeah.” Bucky grumbled, rubbing at his left arm carefully.

“What happened?” Levi moved closer but he stepped away.

“Never mind. Old injury.”

“But what-”

“Drop it Levi.” He surprised himself with the tone he used, and Levi narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a deep breath before huffing it out. This was not starting out how he’d imaging it and Bucky closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, charcoal still darkening his cuticles from his last Art class. “Okay.” He exhaled slowly, imagining he was light as a cloud or some shit. “Let’s start again. I don’t like being ignored. I’m doing you the favor, remember?”

“Okay. I apologize.” Her tone was begrudging, but Bucky peered into her mysterious eyes and saw true remorse.

“It’s fine. Let’s go.”

Levi fell in step beside him silently and for a few minutes only the sound of their shoes hitting the sidewalk could be heard.

“You don’t drive to school?” Levi finally asked.

“Nah, it’s not far. The walk’s nice and my old truck doesn’t exactly fit in with the Jet Set. What about you?”

Levi shrugged. “Walking’s free. Easy way to get in a bit of exercise outside of endless practices. Steve’s got a car, but he doesn’t use it very much.” She fell silent again, seemingly a bit uncomfortably and Bucky furrowed his brow, searching for a safe topic. The question of why he cared so much flittered through his mind again, but he irritably pushed it away.

“This is it.” Bucky announced a few minutes later, gesturing to the well-maintained Craftsman in front of him. It wasn’t huge, not like the McMansions on the other side of town where Levi probably lived, but the neighborhood was well-established, read: old and shaded with huge trees. Bucky didn’t even mind mowing the oversized yard that came with it and he fought a grin as Levi gazed around in wonder, shutting the white picket gate behind her and continuing to the covered deck. Levi followed slowly, still staring at everything.

“It’s like a time capsule around here.” She mused, glancing up at Bucky. “Not in a bad way, I love vintage.” She caught Bucky’s amused gaze and furrowed her brow, trying to erase the grin on her face. “What? I love old houses like this, we live in this post-modern McMansion because Brock is always trying to keep up with the Jones. If I got to choose my major, it’d be Architecture-”

“Wait. You don’t get to choose your own Major?”

Levi cut off, clearing her throat in embarrassment before continuing, a little gruffly. “My scholarship is my way out, after that… maybe I can go into design.”

“You should be able to choose whichever you want-” Bucky felt a rush of righteous indignation.

“No, I can’t!” Levi snapped, raising her voice. When Bucky fell silent, staring at her in surprise, she added shortly. “Brock makes too much for me to apply for loans, but he won’t help either Steve or I with school.” She broke off, looking down and sniffling hard, once, before raising her head, her face carefully devoid of emotion. “Are we going to study or what?”

Bucky was far from done, what kind of parent refused to help their child, even a stepchild? But there would be time later to explore this, if he pushed now, Levi would walk away. “Yeah. Sorry. C’mon, let’s go.” He unlocked the door and opened it, letting Levi walk in first. She moved past him and out of his direct way but stopped and waited instead of looking around, her enthusiasm from before gone.

“My room’s up here.” Bucky started upstairs but Levi paused before following him to the third-floor attic.

Levi eyed him suspiciously before entering his room and he couldn’t help a chuckle. “I’ve got a desk up here, it’s quiet. That’s all.”

Levi nodded but still didn’t look convinced. “Big.” Was her only comment. Without prompting she sat in a nearby chair and began pawing through her backpack.

“You want a drink or something?” Bucky asked, scratching the back of his neck. It made him sound like a great big dork, but he’d never had a girl in his room before, unless you counted his mom or little sisters, and you didn’t.

“No, thank you.” Levi sounded sullen again and Bucky frowned, but continued when an immediate solution to alleviate her attitude didn’t come to mind.

“Alright… want to try some math?”

Three tutoring sessions and ten days later, Bucky threw down his pencil in annoyance. “I don’t understand. You know all this stuff, why are you failing?”

“I know it,” Levi shot back, “because you’re taking the time to explain it.”

“If you paid attention in class, it would be the same.”

Levi scoffed, head bent over her work as she sat on the end of Bucky’s bed and he stared at her, considering for a minute.

“You know, you don’t have to be on all the time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Levi raised her head and fixed him with a warning glare.

“It means that you don’t have to act all the time, you don’t have to be the life of the party. What? You think your friends won’t like you all of sudden if you actually sat down and was quiet during class?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.” Bucky snapped compulsively, then sighed. He moved to her side and sat down, the mattress dipping slightly. Levi tensed as if to move but stayed seated. “Sorry… but it’s true. They aren’t your real friends if you can’t be yourself around them.”

“How do you know what my real self is?” Levi growled.

“Because I’ve been sitting across from you for the last ten days. That… edginess is gone, you’re more relaxed, it fits you better.”

Levi scoffed a second time before muttering something under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Levi snapped, standing suddenly.

As she began to step away Bucky reached out involuntarily and grabbed her arm. Levi whirled, hand raised to strike him but froze, eyes wide as she realized what she was about to do. Bucky softened his grip but didn’t let go and held her gaze as he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Levi pulled her arm away, but more gently this time and Bucky let it go. She sat again, a few careful inches separating them and picked up her book. Silently, she began working again and Bucky watched her for a few beats, struggling to contain the emotions rushing through him.

Did her stepdad hit her? Is that why she reacted like that?

“Lev, does-”

“Just drop it.”

“No. Does your stepdad-”

“Bucky!” There was a faint note of hysteria in her voice now and she took a deep breath, glancing up into Bucky’s concerned gaze before dropping her eyes to her book again. “Don’t tell Steve, okay? If he found out, he’d…” She cleared her throat. “He’d do something stupid and never get out this town.”

Bucky exhaled, feeling like he’d been kicked in the guts. How did you keep a secret like that?

As if reading his thoughts, Levi grimaced. “I’m sorry to ask you that, it’s not fair but… I can’t let Steve get hurt, he does so much for me already.”

A new light colored Levi now in Bucky’s eyes; she wasn’t a bratty little princess acting out for attention, a pretentious jockette who didn’t need to conform to the rules; she was a scared teenage girl, hiding dark secrets and putting on the only brave face she could. Rage boiled low in Bucky’s guts, surprising him in its intensity.

“You tell me,” he replied, his voice low and firm. “If he starts in on you again, you tell me, and I’ll deal with it.”

Surprise flared in her unique eyes before her walls slammed down again. “I gotta go.”

“No, Lev. Stay, I didn’t-”

“Just don’t tell anybody, okay?”

“Levi-”

But she was gone.

Levi wasn’t at school the next day and she hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts. Worry ate at Bucky as the day progressed; Steve seemed fine, but was he just hiding the truth too? Finally, after last class, he quit listening to the quiet, repetitive question in his mind about why he cared so much and crowded into Steve’s space.

“Hey Buck. How’s it going?” Steve asked, giving no indication about whether anything was going on.

“Uh…” Bucky scrambled for words; he’d been so caught up in the fact that Levi wasn’t here that he hadn’t actually decided on what to say. Levi had asked him to not tell Steve and he couldn’t betray that trust; it was the only thread she’d extended him so far. “Levi home sick? We were supposed to meet up.”

Steve raised a brow, as if Bucky had said too much already but then masked it with an easy grin. “Yeah, just the flu, I think. She snarled and swiped at me from under her blanket this morning when I went to see what was taking her so long.”

“Oh.” Was there more being said here? Or was Bucky reading too much into it?

Why do you care?!

“Well,” he bluffed. “I don’t like wasting time, tell her to call me so we can figure out a new day to study.”

Something twinkled in Steve’s eyes and Bucky wondered just how much the older twin knew, if he could see into Bucky’s mind and see the burgeoning struggle in him, the divergent desires to both care about Levi and keep her and her problems at arm’s length.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her.” Steve grinned. “Talk to you later, man.”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered reflexively. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Later, Buck.” The twinkle was back, and Bucky turned away, cheeks heating.

Bucky glanced up at his cell for the umpteenth time since he’d sat down to do his homework, but the screen remained dark. Would she read too much into it if he called to check up on her? He didn’t really care, it was just like he’d told Steve, he didn’t like his time wasted-

The phone rang and Bucky chose to ignore the way he lunged for it. “Levi?”

“Steve said you wanted me to call.” She sounded tired, maybe sick, maybe something else.

“Yeah, you weren’t in class, are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” The question was snapped, a reflexive defence.

“Why not? I thought we were…”

“What? Friends? No, Bucky, you’re just a guy helping me with some classes, speaking of which, you still haven’t told me what this is costing either.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Bucky?” Levi challenged. “What do you think is going on here?”

Bucky stumbled, lost for words. What did he think was going on?

Levi spoke again, her voice suddenly softer. “I’m sorry, I’m being a total bitch, aren’t I?”

“What happened, Lev? Did he do something again?”

“I just… I just needed a day to ice it so the bruise would fade-”

“Jesus, Levi-”

“No, don’t. It’s just a small one, and its my fault. I got smart, I knew what was going to happen if I pushed him and I did it anyway.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Bucky seethed, the phone creaking in his grip.

“It’s not your problem, Bucky.” Levi replied, but her voice was softer now. “I shouldn’t have said anything before.”

“I’m glad you did, you need help.”

Levi exhaled, a long, harsh sound. “I need to get that scholarship, that’s where you come in.”

The distance was back, and Bucky didn’t like it, not at all. ���Don’t do that, Lev. Please?” The next words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean… I consider you a friend now, not just…” he trailed off weakly.

The pause nearly did him in, but there was a new note in Levi’s voice when she answered him, one he’d only heard when she was at her most unguarded around him, the few times she’d really relaxed during their meetings. “Thank you, I… me too. I don’t have my friends that know the… what did you call it? The real me.”

“I kind of like the ‘real me’,” Bucky grinned. “She’s easier to take than Party Levi.”

“I’ll be in class tomorrow… see you then?”

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Lev.”

“Goodnight Bucky.”

[purplesurveys]

815

At what time of day do you normally feel the best? I love the evening the most. I get to have my coffee, it’s quieter around the house, and it also gets a little bit colder so it’s more fun to hang around by then. Do you normally have to hem pants? I’ve never had to do that before. If I need my pants fixed, I usually ask my lola to do it since she’s good at that kind of stuff. Name one reason why someone should not commit suicide. I can’t speak for other people, but I personally stay because I don’t want to leave Kimi behind and because I’ve seen countless mini-documentaries of parents who were left devastated by their kids taking their own lives. What would you do if you had no one to love and support you? That sounds so fucking bleak. I imagine bringing myself to therapy so I can learn how to deal with such a situation, and so that I at least have one person to talk to. If you didn't have love and support, would you feel life was worth living? No. But that’s why I imagine I’d be going to therapy, so my mind can be changed.

If you had no family nor friends nor money, would you feel life's worth living? These questions are so stressful to mull over and a tad bit triggering lmao, can I pass at this point? If you're unhappy, what would it take to make you fulfilled? Depends on what I need, which differs every time. Sometimes I’d wanna be alone, other times I’d want to be with other people, other times I’d need to drive and take longer routes than usual, or to binge YouTube videos, or a good nap...it’s always different. What was the last thing that upset your stomach? The meds I had to take for my UTI. Feeling poopy was one of its side effects, so even though it didn’t upset my stomach per se I did have to have several trips to the bathroom then. Do you have to go the pharmacy a lot? No, only when something’s wrong with me which doesn’t happen too often. Are you sunburned? I haven’t been sunburned since I was like 10. The tendency just suddenly stopped at some point. Do you wish someone loved you? I have a lot of people who already do, fortunately. Do you call yourself stupid often? Like every other hour lmao. What's a song you love? From Eden - Hozier. Do you miss anyone who was mean to you? Not to my knowledge. I’m glad they aren’t in my life today. Name someone you know who is a cancer survivor. One of my former Filipino teachers in high school. Are you friends with any cancer survivors? I don’t think that I am. Does God often answer your prayers? How was your day today (or yesterday, if it's morning)? It was average. Nothing out of the ordinary happened today but I did like the fact that my parents still left the living room aircon on for most of the day even though summer’s over and the weather’s already begun to be a little colder. Do you wish the sunrise and sunset lasted longer? Not really? I’m fine with the ones we’ve got lol. Would you want to relive your childhood again? Fuck no. It had some nostalgic bits, like the shows I used to watch or me playing outside, but it was far too traumatic for me to miss it as a whole. I’m happy being a grownup.

Were your college years the best years of your life? Not fully. My time in college only peaked by the second half, so it wasn’t all that great. Junior and senior year were very fun and eye-opening, though. Would you rather re-live high school or college? Ooh that’s quite a pickle...both periods had their highs. High school was a lot easier (academically), it was a time when I could fuck up and it was okay, and I found my first group of friends. College was a time of independence, a lot of growing up to do, and I also found my second group of friends. As miserable as I was during my freshman year, I ultimately have to go with college because I hated most of the people in my high school anyway and because I really loved the independence I gained in college, from being able to drive on my own and managing stuff on my own time to being free to choose my class schedule. And also, duh, I passed my dream school? I’d relive my years in UP in a heartbeat. What is the dumbest sports-team mascot you've heard of? Not really familiar with sports mascots to begin with. Are you a sports fan? Err, not really. I’m a pro wrestling fan, but it’s not 100% a sport. Where do you feel like you fit in the most? In my college and in my org. I’m sad that I only get four years with them – three when it comes to my org. Do you hate social classes? Yes. Do you think talent should have anything to do with social class? What? I have no clue what this question is insinuating but lmao of course not. I know some crazy talented people who wouldn’t be considered rich, and I know some bland-ass wealthy people who can’t do anything impressive at all. Name a country who's history you know nothing about. Australia. Name a religion you know nothing or very little about. Zoroastrianism. I only remember the founder. Don't you hate know-it-alls? I hate when they start getting conceited. What is your favorite store at the mall? I love visiting Fully Booked every chance I get. When was the last time you went to the mall? That would be when I had my eye checked last early March, because the clinic I visited was inside the mall. Aside from doing that, I also had late lunch at Marugame Udon which apparently would be the last time I’d have their food for a while, unbeknownst to me :( Do you have a bed or do you sleep on a mattress on the floor? I have a bed. When was the last time you went for a run? LOL never. Have you ever tried hard drugs? No. Which school subject did you hate the most? Back in high school I really hated the advanced math and science classes e.g. chemistry, physics, calculus, trig. In college, I found myself hating philosophy and economics the most. What was the last thing you wore from Aeropostale? I don’t think I ever wore anything from them. Which devotional do you read? I don’t read those. Do you appreciate classic literature? I appreciate and recognize their impact, but I don’t like reading them.

What is something you find strange? People who keep pushing for the All Lives Matter narrative. Cringe. Do you like your natural hair color? Sure. I’ve never actively complained about it, that’s for sure. Would you rather get a pixie cut or get dreadlocks? Pixie cut, because I’m pretty sure getting dreadlocks as a Filipino is a form of cultural appropriation? Would you rather dye your hair or get a perm? Dye it.

Do you keep Christmas lights up year-round? No, we don’t. Have you ever started a new trend? Just me? Lmao no. Do you have any artwork of yours from high school? I definitely don’t. Whenever a teacher would give our artworks back, I crumpled it up as soon as I got it and would throw it away. I just simply rejected all of my attempts to be creative lol. What did you win a scholarship for? I’ve never gotten one. But my university did start implementing free tuition for all undergrads starting in 2017 when I was a sophomore, so it’s kinda like the same thing. Did your college meet your expectations? Yes, and more. UP taught me far more than classroom lessons as it opened my eyes to the more important societal issues happening outside of school. It made me recognize our farmers who never earn the income they deserve; the factory workers stuck in poor working conditions; the jeepney drivers whose work is never respected; the millions of working class Filipinos who simply deserve better;  and the government that is more corrupt than I thought. My college on the other hand taught me to be fearless and to never hesitate to search for, report, and defend the truth, and to disseminate just that to the masses. Bottomline is that words can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have studied there and I will always be very much in love with my school. What was the best thing about college? The best thing about mine, at least, was the throng of life lessons and eye-opening realizations it gave me. Each of them has been more valuable than any lesson I learned in the classroom. UP taught me that there were a thousand other issues far more important than problems I face in my own privileged bubble, but that I can help facilitate change if I wanted to. How old were you ten years ago? 12. Easily the worst age I’ve been in. What's the best piece of advice you can give someone ten years younger? Stay. It’ll get better. Not instantly, but it does get better. Do you feel like you are old enough and experienced enough to give advice? I think anyone’s fit to give advice no matter how old they are. Even kids can be quite insightful. The differences just lie on the topics people give advice on. How old were you when you started to feel mature and experienced? 17, after I had a series of shitty stuff happen to me at one point in 2015. When I got past those, I could tell I wasn’t the same person that I was, like, two months back. Were your 20's hell? I’m only in my second year lmao, can you get back to me in eight years? What type of bug do you see the most often in your home? We don’t get a lot of bugs at home, fortunately. We have tons of ants though. Do you put off things until the last minute? If I’m not passionate about the task, yes. Do you have the air conditioning on right now? Nope, just the fan. Is your mom the same size as you? She’s slim but she’s still ever so slightly a bit larger. We can technically share clothes but some of them would still look loose on me.

Does camping appeal to you? I have moods where it does and moods where it doesn’t lol. What color is your sleeping bag? I don’t have one. How often do you pray? Do you surrender to Christ daily? When was the last time you went to church? Do you know any Christians who aren't judgmental? Only a handful, and it’s usually people in my age group. Most of the others suck, and I can say this because I’ve had coooooooountless personal experiences with rude, hypocritical, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic Christians and Catholics. Do you believe there are any good people in the world? Of course. What's one thing you are scared of? Flying cockroaches.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

so prompted the other day from someone commenting on one of my personal posts lamenting on my poor time management skills and how I was a good-ish student without studying etc during early high school and then by year 10 I had fuck all idea how study..... I decided to look up adhd in girls. like obviously i am not self-diagnosing myself with it bc i know that it’s a super common and serious behaviour condition. but holy fuck, i just read something about it that hit me so fucking hard that.... fuck me. i just feel so attacked:

obviously I don’t relate to the softball practice bc I never did extracurriculars and I hated sport lmao. but the writing/writer bit. and “working overtime” to get a high grade on my english assignments..... as well as over-practicing my drama stuff at home and wanting my performances to be perfect.... i was known to basically everyone as a student who should’ve been in the top English class. but it was wrested away from me bc of my lack of understanding and appreciation for shakespeare in a year 8 in class assessment on Romeo & Juliet “being starcrossed lovers” that I basically failed bc I came out with a D instead of an A or a B. like fuck. this hit me hard.

they had another point about how the girl with adhd is usually the class helper- like I was in my english classes. bc I would edit everyone’s work, be their living thesaurus & dictionary, as well as giving everyone answers on the assigned texts, because i was the only person in my class who was bothered enough to read the texts in full and enjoy them. then I never received much thanks for it.

but my maths homework? never done. or my very occasional maths take-home assignments? done by my dad at the last minute when I remembered that excel was, in fact, an actual thing. hell I didn’t even do my CLASS WORK most of the time. i instead either half wagged my maths classes (I have several posts on this behaviour lmao) or purposely “fell asleep” in my maths classes as a joke for everyone to “wake me up (wake me up inside)” like Jeff from the wiggles. bc I thought it was funny. but now I’m 24 and never (really) learned how to read a graph or learned how to calculate the mean/median and average & range and mode or whatever the fuck, etc etc. like yeah. my maths is absolutely abysmal.

my geography homework and assignments? barely ever done. and again, at the vexation of the poor kids who were assigned to sit next to me and my year 9 geo teacher who liked me, my geo class work was never done to standard. and I would pull the same “wake up Jeff” routine in geography. even though I could’ve easily done well with that year 9 teacher and my year 10 geo teacher too bc at least we also got along.

my history homework and assignments? done, depending on the teacher, the topic and the type of history. like I was useless at modern history (bc I disliked it- especially australian history lmao minus Vietnam and maybe a bit of the Cold War era spy stuff... it was the politics lmao). but, on the other hand, I was pretty good at ancient history (until I had to try and write a historical essay- and that fucked me up big time in years 11/12 and also uni). i was also mega good at aboriginal studies (like aboriginal cultural history) when I swapped schools. but I dropped out of it, due to my fear of the major project which I knew I wouldn’t meet.... bc it was literally like 50% of the total subject mark at the end of year 12.

so then my focus aside from english & ancient history in year 12 became community and family studies/cafs/social studies and my technical theatre and events management course. which both ended up with marks near the 70s, I think, at the end of year 12. my teachers were good so I went okay.

my science homework? done sometimes, depending again on the topic and the teacher.... but also that one time one teacher wanted me to go to the regional science fair bc he thought my project was good.... but I didn’t do it bc i thought my work wasn’t that good and I didn’t want to do the extra effort of the boards and presenting it.... ESPECIALLY since I’d written that coke/coca-cola was “burp fuel” in my intro. like. burp fuel??? at the regional science fair? oh god. no. no thank you. that’s mortifying both back then AND now, looking back at it. but then again, maybe that’s the part my teacher wanted me to omit in the “clean up”/editing of my work for the science fair lmao. my biology stuff in years 11/12 though? awful. so much so that I solely passed year 12 bio with the miracle of mark scaling. and this was despite the efforts of one of my friends trying to tutor me in our shared free periods.

and obvs my PE stuff was never done.... even that one assessment that was writing/illustrating a kids book about how to be healthy. which if I’d done it, I would’ve probably gone well. but it was my utter distrust of the PE/sport faculty and loathing of sport, and also the fact that when I tried to write it; it didn’t seem authentic or genuine.... that drove me not to do that assignment.

aside from academics/grades.... the other thing that hit me was that adhd girls are typically seen as the “funny/loud/tomboy” etc girls but are also exceedingly shy. like that full on attacked me too. bc it’s exactly like my flip from catholic school to public school. going from being the loud & funny sailor mouth girl who sometimes asked crass questions in PE due to the shows she watched and to see if people would laugh and did whack shit in her drama classes..... but with mostly topsy-turvy marks. to being the quiet shy and suddenly high achieving former private school girl at public school who never did any loud shit out of the blue. like. yeah. like now when I look back at my facebook statuses about me in drama class or other dumb shit I did outside of drama class in catholic school I’m like “hmmm, can’t relate” and “what the FUCK that was ME??? I don’t know her.” bc of the nervous wreck that I actually am lmao.

there was one more point to that was like “adhd boys will typically sit “with one foot on their chair in class”. and I was like. “hmmm. why does that remind me so vividly of my year 7 geo teacher/year 9 commerce teacher frequently labelling me as a “health hazard” bc I’d sit cross legged on my chairs during class????”

I also had a flashback while reading that particular article, to how, in primary school, my teachers regularly encouraged the kids who were assigned to sit beside me on table groups or whatever in class; to put a ruler between us to mark out our separate sides of the desk; so that whoever sat next to me had their own desk space and I had mine.... all bc my side was frequently unorganised/messy. that’s because when I physically handwrote things, I’d tire quickly and so slouch in my seat a bit and put my head on my other arm to write (this is my condition hypotonia/developmental coordination disorder).... so I took up a load of desk space doing that. while the other person’s side of the desk was usually neat and ordered and they obvs didn’t have my posture etc when physically handwriting something. like I’d try to have my side neat & ordered like everyone else, but it always ended up in a state of disarray somehow. like HOO BOY IT’S ALL ADDING UP.

but also yeah. I’m not self-diagnosing bc that’s such common thing on this site. but. like. yeah I need to get to a psychologist or a psychiatrist and see. because so many things are adding up and maybe I do have some overlapping traits from adhd???? bc as ive said before, my condition hypotonia/developmental coordination disorder, has some links with adhd apparently, from what I’ve read recently on it. and it’s really starting to interfere with my life bc I can’t use a diary properly etc and don’t know how to hold myself accountable with deadlines other than doing everything to the last minute until I burn out, monumentally.

anyway.

don’t reblog this please. lmao. it’s just a musing.