#I'm not like a teacher or really qualified in any way to be talking about this

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, engineer, heavy, medic, sniper, and spy (i forgot demo i'm so sorry)

↳ warnings: bad translations, slight mentions of world war two and malpractice

↳ song: with a little help from my friends—joe cocker

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He would be so smug about it

• Puffing his chest out and everything

• His friends in the past- and even family members -have teased him for mispronouncing words or speaking too fast, and it’s made him a bit self conscious about the way he talks. But after hearing that you find it endearing, its a giant ego boost for him

• “Yeah dat’s right! Who’s awesome? I’m awesome!” Scout smiles as he flexes his arms in your face, subjecting you to what he likes to call a surprise gun show. You pretend to hate it as you shove his arm away, but chuckle all the same

• He’s already gloated before that he already knew his accent was the best. Boston is the greatest place in the world after all! But hearing it from you really just sent him over the moon

• Makes a point to talk to you a lot more now; as if he didn’t already

• “Yo! Hey did you see that kill out there? I totally messed dat Spy up! One wrong step and pow! He’s dead meat!”

• “I saw Scout. I was covering your flank while you did it, remember?”

• “Yeah yeah, but I just thought you’d like ta hear about it again.”

𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫

• Didn’t consider himself to have an accent until you pointed him out

• Sure, he says the occasional y’all and ain’t, but not enough to qualify as a whole different way of speaking

• It wasn’t until he dropped a hammer on his foot and cursed that he understood what you’d meant

• “What in the sam hill! Sweet hell!” He’d exclaimed, startled. Once the throbbing in his leg had subsided, Engineer replayed his words in his head, making a slight o with his mouth as he realized you were probably right. To some extent at least

• He was a born and raised Texas boy, so it makes sense that the culture rubbed off

• Doesn’t understand at first that you find it nice. Maybe he thought you pointed it out just because you could? He’s a bit distracted when it comes to anything but machinery, so he misses context sometimes

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲

• Surprised that someone like you who can speak English fluently finds his mannerisms attractive

• Gets frustrated sometimes when he can’t remember certain words in English. Heavy is a very smart man, so it aggravates him when he looks illiterate in front of his team

• That’s why hearing that you like his mother tongue caught him by surprise

• “But you don’t know any Russian?” He’d rumbled out as a question. When you shook your head no, still sporting a smile, his eyebrows furrowed further

• “Nah. But I like hearing it when it comes from you. It sounds more natural. Like you’re more comfortable than normal, you know?”

• You’re technically right. When Heavy slips into Russian, often whilst talking to Sasha or simply forgetting that not everyone on the team know how to speak it, he is more comfortable in his words. They flow better, and he’s flattered that you’ve noticed

• One hundred percent offers to teach you Russian in his spare time. He finds it slightly adorable how you stumble over words in your broken translations, but always manages to softly correct you

• He’s a really good teacher

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Positively thrilled that you like his voice

• When you tell him for the first time, he goes into shock for a moment before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Somehow its a perfect balance between excited and malicious

• “Do you hear zhat Archemedies? Mein freund here enjoys my accent!” He cooes at his bird, chuckling in a way that would make anyone’s insides squirm

• Once you look past Medic’s initially devious reaction, it’s very clear he enjoys knowing this

• If anything, the ex-doctor would have thought that you’d enjoy the more stereotypically romantic sounding languages. Spanish, Latin, etc

• German has always been considered harsh or scary sounding, and it turned a lot of people away from hiring him after the events of World War Two, which he understood. Still, Medic finds himself absolutely tickled that you are drawn to his accent

• Finds himself slipping more and more into German while doing checkups on you now. When he catches himself, he translates most of what’s he’s said back to you. But sometimes he’ll simply forget, and it leaves you wondering if he’s offered you a glass of water or the opportunity to swap your bladder out

• You sincerely hoped it was the former

𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

• Oh my god you killed him

• Sniper is very reserved. Living in his camper, hunting his own game for dinner instead of joining the others, literally pissing in jars, etc etc

• Being a man of few words comes part and parcel with that; which normally works out just find because Scout talks enough for ten people

• Hasn’t said much to you before. He mostly communicates in head nods or slight tilts of his coffee mug in your direction. Maybe a few ‘good mornin’s’ tossed around, but nothing more than that

• “You know, you should talk more.” You’d said to him one day while pouring a fresh pot of tea you had just boiled into your own mug. He preferred black coffee himself, but whatever floats your boat

• “You voice.” You elaborated after a sip. You must have noticed his confused look as you carried on. “It’s nice. Can’t imagine that you don’t have gals throwing themselves at you all the time because of it.”

• Suddenly very grateful he wasn’t drinking any of his brew at the time, because what you said surely would have made him choked

• He, in fact, had had a few ladies approach him in town before saying something along the same lines. Even a few fellas. But nothing made him blanch this strongly like you had

• Excuses himself as he walks out of the room suddenly, tilting his hat down to cover his face no one can see the furious red tint forming

• Sniper leaves you in the communal kitchen. Holding a steaming cup of liquid and looking very confused

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• Already knew before you told him

• To anyone else, it would have been passible as just curiosity. But Spy’s job is to know things, and it is an undeniable fact that you found his voice attractive

• Doesn’t utilize this weapon often. You are not a weak willed person swayed by just a few words, so when he needs something he pulls out all the stops

• Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being impressed when you eventually admit your little not-so-secret-secret to him. And of your own free will. He didn’t have to pry it out of you, which was a feat on its own

• Much like Heavy, he extends the offer of teaching you how to learn his language. Now that he no longer has this knowledge as a bargaining chip, he might as well seize the opportunity to teach you a proper language

• Considers using electroshock therapy to condition you faster, but nixes it pretty quick

• Again, like Heavy, he finds it cute how horrible you are at French. More amused than anything, but he can appreciate the way you practice verbs in your free time even when he isn’t leaning over your shoulder

• That you know of, that is

• Praises you often in french, letting excited phrases slip when you nail a particularly hard set of words

• “Merveilleux ! Tu t’améliores beaucoup, ma petite. Encore une fois.”

• While you don’t understand the full extent to his words, you smile and continue on, eventually realizing what he had said later in a fit of embarrassment

#tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 x y/n #scout x reader #scout x you #scout x y/n #engineer #engineer x reader #engineer x you #engineer x y/n #heavy #heavy x reader #heavy x you #heavy x y/n #medic #medic x you #medic x y/n #medic x reader #sniper #sniper x reader #sniper x y/n #sniper x you #spy #spy x reader #spy x you #spy x y/n #x reader #headcanons

[ughgoaway]

playing on my mind

content warnings: swearing, referring to Matty as tall (look we all lie for plot purposes okay), dilf Matty and rushed writing... i think that's it? word count- 3.3k ish

a/n: woah this was quick but I am nothing if not impulsive!! this is just a one-shot but if y'all want a series I might do one?? idk it depends on how inspired I am lol. but yes this is just my little blurb-thing from yesterday fleshed out into an actual story!! I'm so glad people liked the idea, I hope this doesn't disappoint <333

(I didn't proofread this so I apologise if its utterly shit </3)

“And off you go! If you need your pencils sharpened or help, make sure you raise your hand! I’ll come to see you!” You say to the group of 30 little balls of energy in front of you. 60 eyes looking up at you might seem intimidating to most, but when it's a hyperactive group of 5-year-olds; the fear wears off slightly.

It was family tree week in your classroom, and you had given your little ones the usual task of drawing their family, each set up with pieces of paper and various pencils and pens to create their masterpieces. Seeing them smile and talk about their older sisters and brothers or how much they love their parents always warmed your heart. 

You originally got into teaching with every intention of working with teenagers. You were sure you shouldn't be moulding such young minds - you were never sure your mind was a very good example. But one test week in a year 1 classroom changed your outlook entirely. Seeing the pure, unadulterated joy on a young child's face was something beyond comparison. 

Getting to watch them grow and develop into little people brought you so much happiness that it could never compare to standing in front of a group of grumpy teenagers. Each teen boy clearly trying to get you over to their desk to “flirt” with you, well as much firting as a 15-year-old boy can do.

Seeing a child come out of their shell, make friendships, and discover their passions made your heart warm in a way nothing else did. So as soon as you qualified you jumped at the opportunity to teach these little ones, this class might be your first but you are sure it will always be your favourite.

And of course, despite what every teacher tells you, they have a favourite student. You were adamant when you began that you really wouldn't have a favourite but then little Annie Healy came bounding into your classroom with a mop of curly hair, untamable energy and the cutest slightly wonky smile you've ever seen. 

She very quickly stole your heart, always wanting to tell you stories and going off on tangents rather quickly, organising tea parties but soon getting distracted leaving you at a small table surrounded by teddy bears giving a toast. Her little body seemed to be filled with enough energy to power the world 3 times over, and you couldn't love her anymore. The idea that she would be leaving your class broke your heart every time you thought about it, despite people telling you not to get attached - you did,

You had just settled at your desk after explaining for the 4th time to Zach that sticking pencils up our noses isn't a very good idea. You ended up telling him if he pushed too far, he'd touch his brain, and soon after that, the pencils stayed firmly in his hand rather than up any nose. If any student was the problem child, it was him. You couldn't hate any student, but let's just say he's given you one too many impromptu haircuts this year to be in line for your favourite.

Soon your real favourite student stuck her arm into the air and wiggled it around in an attempt to get you to see her sooner, little Annie Healy was ever impatient- a trait that is only endearing on her. You quickly nodded and started wandering over, trying not to laugh at her large toothy grin back at you.

“Hi sweetheart, do you need some help?” you say, crouching down to her eye level, flashing a sweet smile.

“Hi miss y/n!” she began, her eyes flittering around your face before landing on your hair, and soon, her hands were stroking your head.

“Wow! I like your hair! It's got sparkly clips in it! You know I asked my daddy for some like that, and he said-” you gently placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to stop the tangent before it started. You knew she'd somehow end up keeping you there for 20 minutes, giving you a detailed list of all of her Barbie dolls and their jobs if you didn't redirect her quickly enough.

“Thank you, Annie! I saw your arm wiggling in the air earlier. Did you need some help?” her eyes light up as she remembered why she called you over here.

“Oh! Yeah, I want to write what's in my daddy’s hands, but I don't know how to spell it. Will you help me?” she says, bringing her attention back to her drawing and grabbing the black pencil to continue her work. It's the first time you actually looked at her drawing, and to say you were concerned would be an understatement.

Most drawings of family consist of the same basic elements; a mum, a dad, a sun in the corner, and a house that is wildly disproportionate to everything else.

So imagine your surprise when you look down to see 4 men in what seems to be leather jackets, holding various musical instruments, and a very tall dog next to them.

You blink a few times. Just checking what you're seeing is right. The lineup starts with a tall man holding a guitar, next to a slightly shorter man also holding a guitar with a mess of black scribbles on his head. Next up is a very tall man with drumsticks in his hands and a kit behind him, and finally another very tall man with a beard and a bass. The concern briefly melts away as you consider how impressive it is she knows the difference. In the bottom left corner is a black dog with very long legs and a big pink tongue sticking out, the dog was almost as tall as the first man but you're aware kids aren’t known for their skill with proportion.

No one had prepared you for this in teaching school, there was never a lecture about what to do if one of your kids does a mildly troubling family drawing of 4 men in leather jackets and a horse dog. You try to stutter a response to Annie, but no real words are leaving your mouth. Just a jumble of sounds, each one sounding more confused and stressed than the last.

You flash a look at her only to be met with a confused head tilt and sad eyes. Oh god. She thought you hated her drawing. Shit.

Time for damage control.

You make the decision then and there not to ask her about the details of her drawing, desperately trying not to make her cry. 

Maybe you could go and see her mum in the playground? Yes, that's what you'll do. You'll walk her out, have a brief discussion with Mum, and make sure Annie knows her family isn't 4 men in a band and then leave her be. That sounds like the professional thing to do.

You take a deep breath and smile at Annie, and soon her downturned lips flashed that cheesy grin you knew so well. You tighten your hand on her shoulder and grab a pen, ready to help her any way she needs. 

“Do you mean the word ‘guitar’ Annie?” she gives you an excited nod as you continue speaking, “Ah yes, that's a really hard word for even grown-ups to spell. Let's work it out together, hmm?”

With your mind racing you help her sound it out and label her drawing, even stopping to sharpen her black colouring pencil for her- there's a lot of black for young girls drawing but she's committed to an aesthetic, and part of you respects that.

On the walk back to the desk, you begin practising your speech in your head, trying to figure out how to ask why she’s drawing a band as her family without unknowingly offending mum. Maybe she just really likes music?

You run through your memories trying to think of her mentioning a band before, but nothing comes to mind, Annie doesn't even stay on track long enough to talk about her family. Always seeing something shiny and discussing that instead. 

You flick your eyes to her one more time just to see her animatedly talking with another little girl on her table, her hands gesticulating wildly and her curls bouncing as she tells her story.

The sight calms you slightly, seeing the little girl you know so well acting exactly as she should be. You have the fleeting thought that you might be overreacting, but eventually, you collect the drawings to see Annie had dated her work “1975”. Yup, that discussion with her parents was definitely happening.

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

The bell rings, and you manage to catch Annie just before she runs off into the playground without you, “Hi Annie! I have your drawing from today. Should we show it to mummy and daddy together?” her eyes light up as her curls bounce from her excited nods. 

You walk hand in hand out onto the playground, crouching down you make eye contact with Annie before asking, “Can you point out your mum or dad Annie?”

She nods and begins scanning the playground. You stifle a laugh at the look of concentration on the young girl's face. Her nose is scrunched along with her eyebrows, one hand pulling at a curl by her ear and the other holding yours. Soon, you see her face brighten, and her eyes fill with joy. 

“DADDY!!” is the scream that comes from the little girl as her hand shoots from her head to point to the corner of the playground, she starts dragging you before you even look up but as you do, you feel your heart drop.

As a student teacher, you'd definitely seen some hot dads, but they were still dads. Most were slightly creepy, partially balding, and talked about nothing but golf and their “annoying” wives. You were used to that kind of dad, not exactly this kind.

Standing nonchalantly in the corner of the playground was a tall man. A pile of salt and pepper curls sat on top of his head; untamed but effortlessly and obnoxiously cool. The white t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide the patchwork of tattoos that snaked up his arms. The low neck of the top even teased the top of his chest tattoo. Sunglasses sat on his face, they gave him an "I'm too cool" rocker vibe that, for some unknown reason, made you dizzy.

In one hand, he had a lit cigarette, something that was not allowed on school property, but the way his cheeks hollowed as he took a drag had you forgetting that rule completely. He dropped the butt of the cigarette to crush it with his heavy boots before taking a sip of the can of coke that was in his other hand. 

As he noticed you coming over, a dazzling smile broke out on his face. You felt your knees weaken as you tried to brush off how hot he was. 

You then realised you actually had to speak to this man. Fuck. You're not sure you even have a voice currently. If you opened your mouth, you're sure incoherent noises would come out, followed by wild hand motions trying to explain your insane behaviour.

The closer you got, the less you stared at him, feeling too intimidated to keep looking in his direction. This did mean you almost tripped 3 times, but you would rather fall than risk making eye contact with this intimidatingly attractive man.

Annie dropped your hand as you finally reached the man, and she jumped into his arms. He grunted at the force but soon began pressing kisses all over her face, smiling at her uncontrollable giggles.

Quickly, the man noticed your presence and stuck a hand out to introduce himself, “Hi! Sorry about that, you know what it's like when kids miss you. I’m Annie’s dad, Matty.” 

And this is where a normal person would introduce themselves, stick their hand out, and shake Matty’s. Maybe even say their name and start talking, but oh no. Not you. You stood there motionless and just said “Matty” breathlessly to yourself 3 times over.

Time dragged on in the 10 seconds Matty stood there with his hand out. If you weren't aware of how time worked, you would swear you stood there in stilted silence for 10 minutes. 

By some grace of god, little Annie Healy saved you and introduced you, “Daddy. This is Miss y/n. She wanted to come and show you my drawing." 

Matty retracted his hand and pushed the sunglasses that sat on the bridge of his nose up to his mess of curls, just as wayward as his daughters. His deep brown eyes met yours as he tilted his head questioningly at your behaviour. His smile remained wide at you, his tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and you felt your heart stutter. A litany of inappropriate thoughts swirling through your mind.

He quickly diverted his attention back to his daughter, “Oh really munchkin? Is your drawing just that amazing? Is Miss y/n going to send it to all the museums?” he said whilst tickling her sides. You smiled at the pair of them watching Annie throw her head back with erratic laughter. 

Finally, you manage to right yourself and begin speaking, “Right. Sorry about that, long day,” you explain, looking apologetically at Matty, who only nodded and tried to hide his widening smile at your flustered state. 

“I'm just here to talk about Annie's drawing,” you pause briefly and look at Annie in her dad's arms. Not wanting to disappoint her, you form a plan in your mind. “Hey Annie, why don't you go practise some hopscotch! I'm just going to have a quick chat with your dad, okay?”

Before you’d even finished your sentence, Annie was wiggling out of her dad's arms and running off.

“She's got endless energy that one hasn't she?” you say wistfully, staring off in the direction she ran, watching her jump around and giggle with some of her friends.

“Ah like father like daughter, I suppose” Matty says, grinning at your clear love for his little girl. He feels his heart warm at your caring eyes. “So what seems to be the issue? I'm sure you're not over here because the Louvre has asked for Annie’s drawing?” 

You laugh at Matty's joke, perhaps a little too hard. Nervous laughter was one of your less attractive traits, but you try to shake it off and have an actual adult conversation with Matty. 

“Ah no, no phone calls from Paris yet,” you begin laughing lightly, you pull out Annie's drawing and pass it over to Matty and start to analyse his reaction as you finish speaking, “I was just coming over to ask why Annie's family portrait is seemingly a band? I wanted to make sure she knows her family isn't 4 tall men in leather jackets and a surprisingly tall horse dog.”

As you finish your sentence, Matty bursts out in hysterical laughter, folding over as his chortling laughter takes over his whole body. Your face scrunches up at his reaction, your eyebrows are pinched, and a small frown overtakes your features. 

Eventually, Matty catches his breath and looks up at you only to realise how strange his reaction appears. His hand shoots up to your arm and begins to stroke it lightly as he attempts to explain himself.

Each featherlight stroke of his fingers made your breath hitch. You felt your eyes fogging over, and your ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton wool, the surrounding sounds suddenly becoming muted.

A shake of your head brought you back to earth as you fought to focus on the words Matty was saying.

“Oh I'm so sorry, once you know the story you’ll understand my reaction” Matty began explaining with wide apologetic eyes, “basically Annie's mum isn't in the picture, it's just me and my 3 best friends,” he said smiling.

You lightly laugh and say, “Ah I'm assuming they are the man with the guitar, the one with the bass and the other with the drumsticks?” You finish with a teasing tilt of your head.

Matty's fingers encircle your wrist as that smile you've quickly grown to love appears on his face once again at your teasing.

“Yes those are the ones. You see we’re all in a band - hence all the instruments. I always tell Annie that Uncle George, Ross, and Adam are our family. So when you asked for a family drawing...”

“She drew her family!” You finish his sentence for him, staring at his hand and holding your wrist as you do. He quickly drops it, and you curse yourself for bringing it to his attention.

You wrap your arms around your stomach protectively in an attempt to hide your mounting embarrassment.

Matty smiles and starts to speak again, only to be interrupted by you, “Wait I understand that, but why did she date it ‘1975’?”

Somehow, Matty's smile grew again, “Our band is called the 1975. Weird, I know, but it comes from me being young and pretentious with a Jack Kerouac book.”

Before you could respond, Annie came bounding over and wrapped herself around her dad's leg, “Dadddd” she complained, pulling out the last letter to announce her annoyance to the world.

“Annieeee” Matty teased back in the same tone as her, picking her up as he did.

“Can we go home now? I want to see mayhem!!” she said, excitedly clapping her hands as she finished.

You shoot Matty a questioning look, and he quickly answers your silent query, “the horse dog” he says teasingly, parroting your earlier words back at you.

“Okay darling, let's get going then,” Matty says with a grunt, putting Annie down, grabbing her hand, and taking her backpack from her.

“Say bye to miss y/n Annie,” he says, smiling sweetly at you, but you can see the mischief brewing in his eyes.

His eyes keep your attention so long you almost miss Annie's sweet goodbye, “bye miss y/n! See you tomorrow! Can we talk about your sparkly clips tomorrow?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

“Of course, little miss Annie!” You say smiling at the young girl. You focus solely on her in an attempt not to get lost in her father's eyes again.

You watch them walk away but after a few steps they pause, Matty turns over his shoulder and waves with his free hand, “Bye miss y/n” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice and a flirty wink.

Before you can even process what just happened, he's strolling away casually, and all the mums in the playground are silently lusting after him.

A heavy breath leaves your chest as you start to watch him leave.

“Isn't he gorgeous” a voice behind you whispers, causing you to jump and let out a small scream. You hold a hand to your chest and look at your colleague with wild eyes.

“Oh my god, Amanda, please do not sneak up on me like that! I'm fragile” you say, now laughing at your ridiculous reaction.

“Sorry, sorry,” she begins giggling, “but isn't he just so hot? Annie was in my class last year, and I used to count down the days until parent’s evening! I mean, who wouldn't want to sit across a desk from a man who looks like that?” Amanda says, wiggling her eyebrows flirtatiously.

She begins to teasingly poke your sides at your awkward silence, and you quickly brush her off and straighten up, “Amanda! You can't talk like that about a parent!” You say, trying and failing to have any conviction in your voice.

“I can when the parent looks like that!” she says, smiling and watching Matty stroll away.

You huff at her behaviour and walk away, desperate to sit down and process what just happened.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your desk chair squeaks as you sit down behind your desk. You spin the chair and pick up a pen to begin marking some spelling tests from last week, but before long, you give up.

Staring off into space with endless thoughts poisoning your mind, only one thing can come out of your mouth. 

“fuck."

#matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #the teacher reader obsession was too real #once again an obnoxious number of hashtags but we move #i hope you dont all hate this #unsurprisingly i do hate it <3 #teacher au!

[sissylittlefeather]

I wrote something!!!

I'm not sure if it's any good, but the writer's block passed long enough for me to get this one done. I hope you enjoy it!

Hot for Teacher

A/N: an AU in which you and Elvis are teachers at a high school together. Special thanks to @ccab for helping me come up with the idea for this one! Also, this is a slow burn, but the payout is worth it, I hope!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation, also some baby talk during sex kinda?

Word count: ~5.5k

It's 1965, so this is our Mr. Presley:

You'd been the art teacher at Central High School for almost five years when they hired a new choir director in 1965. You were sad when Mrs. Sparks retired because she had been your director when you went to the school, but you were curious about who they were going to bring in. When you found out it was a man, you were definitely shocked. You didn't know men could teach in a school as anything other than a coach, but the principal assured you he was qualified.

When you see him on the first day, you almost drop all the art supplies you're carrying. He is the most attractive man you've ever seen in your life. When he notices you struggling with the armful of supplies, he runs over to help.

"Can I take some of this for ya, honey?" His southern accent is as smooth as butter and you're glad he's there to catch the supplies as you almost drop them again. He takes a bulk of them from your arms and then gestures for you to lead the way to the classroom. Once inside, you show him where he can unload the supplies. He walks over to you and extends his hand.

"I'm Mr. Presley, Elvis Presley. I'm the new choir director." You take his hand and shake it slowly.

"I'm Miss Y/l/n, art teacher."

"Miss not Mrs.?" He looks at you sweetly.

"Yeah, just Miss." You make a conscious effort not to look down at your feet, but his gaze is so soft that it makes you nervous.

"Well, it looks like we'll be sharing a hallway, Miss Y/l/n. Nice to meet you." He smiles and your stomach clenches. His blue eyes and perfect smile make the blush rise in your cheeks. You aren't used to being in the presence of such an attractive man.

"Yeah. Thanks for helping me." It sounds dumb but it's all you can get out.

"You're welcome! Well, I better head back to my room. If I need any help, can I bother you again?" You nod to let him know he can bother you whenever he wants. Then, he backs out of the room smiling and heads down the hallway.

******

At the beginning of the second week of school, he pokes his head into your room just as you're getting ready to walk to the teachers' lounge for lunch. You've seen him in the hall a couple of times, but there hasn't been much to your conversations beyond politeness and brief answers to his questions about the school.

"This might sound silly, but where do you eat lunch?" You noticed that he hasn't been eating in the lounge, but you never guessed it's because he doesn't know where it is.

"In the lounge. It's on the second floor in the sophomore hall."

"Oh. Do you mind if I come with you?" You look up at him. Is he asking to eat lunch with you? No. Surely he just wants to know where the lounge is.

"Yeah, sure!" He nods and smiles, almost seeming relieved that you said yes. You grab your lunch box and walk with him up the back stairs to the lounge. You assume that once you get there, he'll sit somewhere away from you, but he doesn't. He settles in right next to you and starts to unload his food.

"How long have you been here?"

"This is my fifth year."

"Did you teach somewhere before this?"

"Nope. This is my only school."

"So you're, what, 26?"

"28. I went to graduate school before I started teaching." You're not sure why your age matters, but the more you talk, the more comfortable you get with him. He's very easy to talk to because it feels like he's really listening.

"This is my 8th year teaching, but I started at a bigger school as an assistant director."

"How are you liking it here?" He smiles and the conversation continues through lunch.

He walks you back to your classroom and thanks you for helping him find the lounge.

"Same time tomorrow?" He asks when you reach your door.

"Oh, yeah, sure." You're not sure why he's so excited to eat lunch with you, but you're not complaining. He's so cute and surprisingly good company.

When the kids make their way into the room, you hear a group of girls whispering and catch pieces of the conversation. You definitely hear "Mr. Presley" and something about wearing a short skirt. At first, you roll your eyes, but then you say a quick prayer that he's not one of those teachers.

******

Your lunchtime together becomes a ritual and before too long, you both come to expect each other's company while you eat. One day, you have to stay in your room while a group of girls works on a project. He pokes his head in to pick you up for your walk to the lounge, but you gesture to the girls.

"No lunch date today?" He asks, disappointment in his voice. Your mouth pops open at the word date, but you close it quickly. However, the group of girls definitely notice both his use of the word and your reaction. They look at each other and giggle.

"No, I'm sorry. I have to stay with them."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I should be available."

"Good!" He smiles and backs out of the room.

As soon as he's gone, the girls elbow each other trying to get the other one to talk. Finally, one pipes up.

"Miss Y/l/n, are you dating Mr. Presley?" You feel your cheeks get hot.

"No. I'm absolutely not."

"Why not? If he looked at me like that, I would!" They erupt into a cascade of giggles and your cheeks get even hotter.

How does he look at you? Surely, they're just seeing things.

******

It doesn't take long for the rumors to start flying around the school about you and Mr. Presley. You finally hear one that makes you blush and you decide to talk to him and see what he has to say about them. When you walk to his room after school, he's sitting at the piano and there's a group of girls all fighting for his attention. He's trying to get them to focus on whatever they're supposed to be practicing, but they're too busy trying to flirt. At first, you get a little nervous that he's feeding into their efforts, but it doesn't take you long to realize he's not just oblivious, he's annoyed by them.

"Girls, let's go back to the beginning." He practically hollers just before he sees you in the doorway. He instantly stands up, towering over the heads of the teen girls, and smiles at you. They all stop tittering and turn to see what earned this reaction from him. When they see that it's you, they completely fall apart laughing.

He looks around at them confused and ushers them away from the piano to get their things and leave the classroom. Just as she's leaving, the last girl snickers.

"We'll just leave you two alone, then." He looks up at her suddenly and then back to you.

"What was that all about?"

"You haven't heard? Apparently you and I are doing all kinds of unspeakable things when the students leave." Now it's his turn to blush and look at his shoes.

"I try really hard not to listen to what they say about me." You hadn't considered how hard it might be for him to be taken seriously looking the way he does. He looks back up at you, the little piece of hair on his forehead bouncing with the movement.

"What should we do about it?" You ask.

"Well, we could just make the rumors true." He smiles devilishly and you inhale sharply. "I'm kidding, y/n."

That's the first time he's called you by your first name. You honestly wonder how he knows it. You're also completely caught off guard by the obvious flirtation of his last statement.

"I'm sorry. I've just found that the best way to deal with this is to joke about it or ignore it completely. Trying to deny it just makes them talk more. Trust me on this."

"Okay. If that's what you think is best." He walks over to you and you feel like he's trying hard not to touch you.

"It'll blow over. They'll be bored soon and move on to some other rumor." You nod and look up at him. There's an undeniable energy between you, but you choose to ignore it. You walk away and head for the door of his classroom. "It'll be fine."

"Thanks. I'll see you later." You head back to your classroom, nerves lit up like a Christmas tree. Was he kidding?

******

You continue like this for the next few months, eating lunch together and hanging out in each other's classrooms after school. Eventually the rumors cool, but they still come up every once in a while. You learn to ignore them and the giggling that happens any time Mr. Presley sticks his head into your classroom to ask a question. But you still haven't learned to call him Elvis, despite him asking you to regularly. When you're alone, he calls you by your first name. There are several more occasions that feel specifically flirty, but they're never overt enough for you to know whether he's serious or not.

In the spring, he decides to take his competition choir to a contest in Florida. He needs a female chaperone, so he asks you if you'll go with them. You're not sure how you feel about spending a weekend on the beach with 20 high school kids and this man that you can't stop thinking about, but you decide to say yes when he comes practically begging with his big blue eyes.

"Please, y/n, I really need a female teacher to come with us. Everything is paid for. It'll be fun."

"Okay, but where exactly are we going?" You ask tentatively. His eyes start to sparkle when you say okay.

"Fort Lauderdale. There's a big choir festival there every year. And the kids get some beach time. It'll be great."

"Beach time? We have to chaperone them on the beach?" He laughs.

"Nah, we'll let them run wild for that part." You reach out and shove him playfully without thinking. That's the first time you've ever really touched him and there's definitely something there that makes your heart skip a little. He gives you a look that seems to indicate that he felt something similar. There's a moment where you're looking at each other before his classroom door opens and the principal walks in, breaking whatever was between you.

"Mr. Presley, did you find a female chaperone for your trip?"

"I did! Miss y/l/n has agreed to come with us." The principal looks between you for a second and then shrugs.

"Sounds good. Just make sure you keep the kids safe, keep them out of trouble, and bring back a trophy." She turns and walks out, leaving you alone with him again. You look back at him and raise your eyebrows.

"Guess there's no backing out now."

"Nope." He smiles and you almost melt. Why does he have to be so attractive?

******

When it comes time for the big beach trip, you pack your most modest bathing suit and head up to the school to get on the bus. You're nervous about how you'll handle being the only two adults with 20 teenagers. You're also nervous about spending so much time with Mr. Presley away from school. Until now, you've never seen him outside the four walls of the high school. You settle in the front seat with your bag tucked up underneath you, assuming he'll sit in another seat. But he doesn't. He sits right next to you.

"Good morning!" His proximity makes your stomach flip flop.

"Hi, Mr. Presley." He sighs.

"Elvis, please. You can call me Elvis." You nod, but have no intention of calling him by his first name. He stands up and gives the kids some announcements and rules to follow before the bus pulls out. The drive is long, so you get comfortable and look out the window.

Once you're on the road, the conversation flows naturally between you and the time passes quickly. The kids are well-behaved when you stop for lunch, so you relax quite a bit about your chaperone duties.

When you roll into the hotel around dinner time, you're all ready to get some food and relax in your rooms. The kids need a good night of sleep before the competition tomorrow morning and beach time in the afternoon. He orders pizza for the group and everyone makes their way to their rooms to eat. You check on all the girl rooms while he walks around to the boy rooms and you meet back in the middle at your rooms. He has a pizza for you to share.

"You wanna eat in my room or yours?" You didn't think about the fact that you'd need to be in one room to share the food.

"Um, let's do your room." He smiles and opens the door for you to walk in before him. Then, he walks to the bed and sits on the edge, patting the bedspread next to him. You plop down next to him and grab a slice of pizza from the box. He grabs a slice too and sets the box down on his other side.

"We've had lunch together a lot, but this is our first dinner date. I wish it was a little fancier." He smiles and holds up his pizza. There it is again, the word date. Does he want to date you? You take a few more bites of pizza trying to work up the courage to ask. He seems to know what you're thinking, though, and addresses it before you can.

"Y'know, y/n, I wouldn't mind taking you out to a real dinner sometime." He swallows hard and looks down at his pizza. It's almost like you make him nervous too. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"I'd like that." He looks up at you quickly, a relieved smile on his face.

"You would?"

"Mhmm." You nod, smiling back at him. As you finish eating, you talk about different restaurants in town that you could go to when he takes you out. After the meal, you talk for a while before you decide to head to bed. At the door, you turn to thank him for the meal and before you know it, he's pressing his lips against yours, with his arms around your waist. You're shocked, but it doesn't take you long to wrap your arms around his neck. You stay like this for a while before he pulls back and presses his forehead to yours.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time."

You're still in shock that he kissed you. Asking you out was one thing, this was something else entirely. Still, there's a big part of you that wants him to keep kissing you. The fact that you're in a hotel room becomes glaringly obvious and for half a second you forget that you're there to chaperone teenagers. But it comes screaming back to you when there's a knock on the door. He jumps backwards away from you and hides you behind the door as he opens it.

"Mr. Presley, we were wondering if there was any extra pizza?" It's a group of boys that are apparently still hungry. He grabs the pizza from his bed and walks back to the door, handing it to the guys. Once the door is closed, he looks at you with a big sigh of relief.

"That was close."

"Yeah. I should get back to my room." He nods and peeks out the door to make sure the hallway is clear. You move quickly toward the door but he grabs you one last time and plants another kiss on your lips before you can stop him.

"Elvis!" You hiss as you break away from him and sneak over to your door.

"You called me Elvis!" He stands there with a crooked grin on his face as you blush and make your way into your room.

"Goodnight!" He whispers as you nod and close the door to your room, leaning against the back of it breathing heavily. Everything that just happened feels like a dream and you're not sure where to go from here.

A not-small part of you imagines slipping back into his room later once you're certain everyone is asleep. But you shake your head to get rid of that idea. Just because he kissed you doesn't mean he wants you in his bed. Does he?

Oh well. You won't find out this weekend. You wash your face and put on your pajamas. Tomorrow should be interesting.

******

The contest in the morning goes really well and the kids are proud to get a trophy for second place. They perform well and you can tell Elvis is proud. He's beaming when he comes to you after the awards ceremony and wraps you in a hug. It takes about thirty seconds for you both to realize that the students are looking at you.

They elbow each other and whisper, so he lets go quickly and corrals them back to the bus to go back to the hotel before their beach time. You stand there in awe for a minute before you take up the back of the line and make sure everyone makes it where they belong.

******

Once you get to the beach, the kids spread out and claim spots on the sand. You lay out your towel where you can be sure to keep an eye on them and then take off your cover up. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Elvis standing and watching you.

"Is this spot taken?" He asks, gesturing to the ground next to you.

"Nope. I saved it just for you." He laughs and sets out a towel next to yours. He has on scandalously small shorts and a small button down. You try not to stare as he sits down.

"That is a bold outfit choice." You say jokingly.

"What? It's what I wear to swim!" He tries to defend himself.

"You trying to impress these 17 year old girls?"

"No, I'm trying to impress you." He almost whispers. You look up and meet his blue eyes, and you feel like if you don't look away, he'll lean in and kiss you right there on the beach.

"Well, it's working." You whisper back as you look out to the water. He smiles and looks over to where the kids are.

"I could say the same thing about your bathing suit. You trying to drive these boys insane?" You snap your head over to him incredulously.

"I guarantee you they don't notice-"

"I hear what they say about you. I'm not the only one with a crush." You feel your cheeks get hot.

"Oh, stop."

"I'm serious. You really think that many boys are interested in art?" You have noticed an unusual number of boys in your classes. Is he right?

"I never thought-"

"You're a beautiful woman, y/n. I can't say that I blame them." If it weren't for the kids you'd tackle him right then and there. You've never made love on a beach, but he's making you think about it.

"Careful. We have a job to do here. You're distracting me." You say it playfully, but you're more serious than you sound.

"Good. The kids have to sleep eventually." He runs his finger down your arm softly, and you get goosebumps. There's an undeniable electricity in his touch.

The rest of the day is spent like this, with whispered flirtation and stolen touches. By the time the sun is setting and it's time to head back to the hotel, you're both so turned on that you're not sure how you're going to make it through dinner without jumping on him.

******

Somehow, you survive dinner at a decent seafood place close by. He wrinkles his nose when you order shellfish and you mock him endlessly when he orders chicken. But it just continues the game you've been playing since the night before. By now, the kids have to have noticed how sexually charged you both are. But if they do, they don't say anything or do anything to indicate that they do. They're too wrapped up in their own teenage melodramas to pay attention to their teachers.

When you get back to the hotel after dinner, you make sure everyone is securely in their rooms and then head back to your own room.

He looks both ways down the hallway to make sure you're alone and then pulls you into a deep kiss, this time parting your lips with his and sliding his tongue into your mouth. He presses your body up against your hotel room door and rolls his hips into you.

"I've been trying so hard not to do that all day." He whispers into your mouth after he pulls back. You whimper a little bit and he kisses you again.

"Elvis, we can't do this. Not here."

"No, you're right. I just needed to kiss you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls away from you, looking at the ceiling. He rearranges his pants, so that his erection is less obvious.

"Goodnight, y/n. I'll see you in the morning." He moves back to his door and opens it with the key. You open your door and you both walk in, closing the doors behind you.

******

In your room, you walk to the bed and sit down, sighing. You'd give just about anything to be in a hotel room with him not chaperoning kids.

You lay on your bed fully clothed for close to an hour before you finally decide you should get ready for bed. As you're walking over to your suitcase, you're surprised to hear a soft knock on the door. You assume it's one of the girls needing something, so you walk to it quickly. When you open the door, though, it's not one of the students. It's Elvis. He walks into the room and shuts the door behind himself.

"What? Why?"

"I can't stop thinking about you." He reaches out and puts his hand on the side of your face. Then, he leans in and kisses your lips gently. He hovers over your mouth and then kisses you a second time. The third time he opens your mouth with his and his tongue grazes yours softly. He hovers again and whispers.

"Do you want me to stop?" The feeling of his lips on yours is intoxicating and you need so much more of him.

"No." He dives into kissing you fully, tongue dancing wildly against yours, and hands wrapping around your midsection to grab your ass and pull you into him. Your arms immediately go around his neck, as he pulls at your clothing. He drags your shirt up over your head and off and you desperately tear at the buttons on his. He starts to walk backwards toward the bed, removing his shirt and shoes as he goes, but never letting his lips leave yours. You follow him, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and toss it to the side.

When you get to the bed, he sits on the edge and you climb on top of him, straddling him where he sits, your naked skin pressed against each other. You make out like this for a while, feeling his erection pushing against you through his pants, before he stands up with you wrapped around him, turns, and lays you back on the bed with him on top of you. As he's kissing down your neck to your chest, he whispers again.

"You're sure this is what you want, because I'm about to hit a point where there's no stopping." You smile and nod your head.

"Yes. Don't stop." You feel him smile against your skin as his tongue circles your nipple, his fingers pinching and teasing the other. His hand grasps your side as he continues to kiss down your body to the spot between your bellybutton and the top of your pants. He removes your pants and underwear together, pulling them gently down your legs and revealing the most intimate part of you to him. Then, he kisses your ankle before sliding his hands up both of your legs, settling himself between them.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." You've never heard him cuss before, but something about it makes your core throb. He slowly drags a finger up your slit and finds the sensitive spot at the top. "And you're already so wet for me, baby."

He starts to massage your clit and you moan and arch your back. You've never known a man to make you come so undone with just his hand. He slides his finger back down and pushes it into you, moving it in and out before adding a second finger. That's when he leans over and presses his tongue to your clit and you almost scream. He moves it over and around the hardened bud as he slams his fingers in and out of you quickly. You feel the coil of your orgasm tighten as he continues to lick you and fuck you with his hand. He feels your walls flutter and whispers into your clit.

"Come for me, baby." The subtle vibration of his voice is the last thing you need to push you over the edge and you dive into oblivion, your toes curling as the waves of pleasure rush from your core out to your extremities and back again.

"Oh, God, Elvis." You moan as you ride out the high of your orgasm. He kisses your hip and slides his fingers out of you, wiping his face as he moves back up your body.

"How was that, baby?"

"That was incredible. Don't tell me you're finished?"

"Oh, baby, I'm just getting started." He takes your hand and puts it on his hardened member and you begin to stroke him through his pants. He undoes the clasp and slides them down and you're surprised to see he isn't wearing any underwear, so his cock bounces free easily. You're not sure what you expected, considering the rest of him is perfection, but his cock is beautiful. It's uncut, long, and straight and it makes your mouth water just looking at it. But you'll have to taste it another time because he doesn't waste a second lining himself up with your entrance.

"Are you ready for me?" He kisses your mouth again.

"God, yes, please." He nods and pushes into you, slowly filling you up. The sensation is delicious and you whimper because he's going so slow.

"Your little pussy is desperate for me, huh?" He smiles and you nod aggressively.

"Well, she's going to have to wait." He teases and starts to pull back out.

"No! Please!" He laughs a little at how needy you are.

"Alright, baby can have what she wants." He pushes into you swiftly and deeply, stuffing you to the hilt. This time you moan together.

"Goddamn, you feel so good. So tight and wet for me." He kisses your neck and starts to pump in and out of you passionately. His hips slam into yours rhythmically as his balls slap your ass. You've never felt anything so satisfying and you wrap your legs around him to make sure he doesn't stop any time soon.

"Yes, fuck me." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it and he laughs again.

"Baby has a dirty mouth. Maybe she needs to be punished." He pulls out of you and moves your legs from around him, turning you over onto your stomach. He pushes your legs together and finds your pussy, slipping into you from behind. Then, he slides one hand up under you to rub your clit, grabbing your hair and pulling gently with the other. He kisses the back of your neck and shoulder as he continues to fuck you, finger making circles on your sensitive nub.

"How's that, baby?" All you can get out is a moan and a whimper. It feels so good and you're right on the brink of another climax. The feeling of his dick inside you and hand working your clit is almost overwhelming. Two more thrusts and you tumble over the edge again, electricity bubbling in your veins as you come hard.

"Yes, Elvis! Fuck!" You say it through gritted teeth. Your orgasm seems to send him over the edge too and he pulls out quickly pumping his cock until his release shoots out all over your ass and back.

"Fuck, yes, baby, that's so good." He moans as he comes on you. Then, he rolls over onto his back next to you and you prop your head up with your arms.

"I'm sorry; I really intended to turn you back over, but I didn't make it." He smiles at you sheepishly.

"I'm not complaining. That might be the hottest thing that's ever happened to me."

He rolls off the bed and fetches a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. You turn over to face him on the bed and he pulls you in close until your skin is pressed up against him again. He puts his hand on your cheek and kisses you deeply.

"I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a fantasy come true." You laugh and look into his eyes.

"It was for me too."

"Can I stay with you?" He runs his thumb across your cheek.

"What if the kids need us and we're in the same room?"

"Well, then they'll have a good story for when we return. Come on, I'll leave before anyone is awake in the morning. I just want to hold you a little longer." You can't argue with that. The feeling of his body against yours is everything you've ever wanted.

"Okay. But you have to leave really early." He smiles and snuggles into your hair.

"I promise."

******

The next morning, you're awakened by a knock on the door. Elvis is still wrapped around you and you're both naked.

"Miss y/l/n! We can't find Mr. Presley! Abigail is sick!"

He pops his head up when he hears his name.

"Shit shit shit!" He whispers, frantically trying to find his clothes. You glance at the clock in your state of panic. 6:27am. He should've been gone by now. You pull your robe on and he hides in the bathroom as you answer the door.

"What did you need?"

"Sorry to bother you so early. We tried knocking on Mr. Presley's door, but he didn't answer. Abigail has a fever."

"Okay, well, we will need to call her parents. We're going home today anyway, so there's not much else we can do. Thanks for letting me know."

"Do you know where Mr. Presley is?"

"Oh, he's probably just asleep."

"We knocked pretty hard..."

"I'm sure it's fine. Go on back to your room. I'll be there in a bit." You close the door and he comes out of the bathroom and wraps his arms around you.

"That was close." You sigh and lean against his chest.

"Yeah, but it was worth it." He kisses your lips gently and then goes to finish getting dressed. You start to get ready and he gives you one last kiss before sneaking back to his own room.

******

You make it back to the school without any other incidents. The girl with the fever is reunited with her parents and sent home. None of the other kids seem to suspect anything happened between the two of you. Once all of the students are sent home with their parents, you realize you're alone with him again.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Nothing. This wasn't just a vacation fling?"

"Not for me. Was it for you?" He looks at you worried.

"Oh, no. I was just making sure."

"Can I take you to dinner? Without the students this time?" You laugh and nod your head yes.

"I wonder how long we'll make it before the kids figure us out." He ponders out loud, taking your hand and walking you to his car.

"Oh, I'm sure there'll be new rumors about us tomorrow. Might as well make them true." You give him a sly look and a wide grin crosses his face.

"Baby, that's the best idea you've ever had."

******

Fin

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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[armins-main-hoe]

HI HELLO!!! I would like 2 request some haikyuu! Manager fluffy headcanons please??? Some of the fem! reader being chubby and popular, it can be either platonic or romantic! I also love your writing ✍️ have a good day/night 💗💗

Hello! That is honestly such a cute request and I have a few ideas for it hehehe

I’m going to do this for Karasuno and Nekoma, if you would like other teams, send in a request again saying which ones you want.

(For those who have sent in requests, don't worry, I'm getting round to writing them all up)

“Nah, I think she’s perfect the way she is”

Karasuno

In all honesty, you were really into music and you wanted to sign up for a music club, so when you found yourself standing in the gym, you couldn’t have felt any more out of place.

It seems there was a bit of a mix up with the sign up sheets and you ended up becoming the manager for the boy’s volleyball team.

You don’t know shit about volleyball.

You talked with the teachers and they said it may take some time for them to go through the sign up sheets and find an empty spot in the music club for you to switch into.

So for now, it seems like you're stuck being the boy's volleyball manager.

On your first day, you were very confused about what exactly you should be doing. I mean the team already has a coach and an qualified teacher with them, what can a student manager do?

So you just sat around, watching the boys practice while the coach yells at them. You weren't going to lie, you got a little bored...

Next few days, you would do the same thing, you even used the time to get homework done, since you thought you'd rather do something than do nothing.

You won't lie to yourself, you weren't popular, or that's what you thought, just known by everyone because of how you looked. You knew you weighed more than the other girls in your class, it didn't bother you all that much and you did always try to see the better side of things.

But that doesn't mean that everyone else thought the same.

You were eating lunch with your friends in the school courtyard when a student walking by with his friends yelled out names at you like "piggy", "diabeto" and "fat cow". You didn't really take words like that to heart, they never were all that creative with the name calling.

However, before you or your friends could say anything, a boy from the volleyball team (you pick who) came and stood up for you.

You watched as he stood in front of you and started yelling back at the boy who was name calling you. "I think she's perfect the way she is!"

As you watched him, you couldn't help but wonder "had he always been this good looking? I hadn't noticed before...."

Funny how now you suddenly feel motivated to actually look into volleyball.

So next time there was a practice, you came prepared. You did your research, you learned the basic rules of volleyball and asked other sport manager's what they do.

The boys were surprised to see you suddenly interested since you usually sat in a corner dong homework.

"The teachers are taking forever with sorting the mess up, I didn't think I'd actually be here for here for this long. But since I am, I might as well help out." You shrugged when they questioned it. It wasn't a lie completely but it wasn't the only reason.

You glanced over to the boy who stood up for you the other day before quickly looking away again, he was smiling at you.

As the weeks passed, you began to pick up more and more about volleyball. It wasn't long before you memorized the positions and each player's weakness and strength.

The other boys were quick to notice your little crush and thought that it was probably why you decided to stick around, but later they began to feel like you genuinely enjoying being manager as well. You weren't a bad manager either, you helped everyone equally and the team as a whole.

Nishinoya was little shit though, you were kind and nice to everyone but with him, you're patience wore down thin.

You did get an offer to change clubs and go do the music club you wanted, you thought of going to both volleyball and music but the timings clashed often so you had no choice but to pick.

Volleyball or music?

Oh well, you can practice music at home and the weekends, it's not like you can see your crush at home or the weekends, right?

You kinda knew making decisions based off of a boy wasn't really good for you but even if you wouldn't admit it, you kinda liked playing manager.

You actually found it fun.

When you told the boys that you were staying as their manager, you were taken back by their cheer.

"We were worried that you'd leave us when you get the chance to join the music cub" Hinata said.

"Sure, we didn't get off too well in the beginning but we like having you around now" Suga smiled at you.

The others nodded their head and in that moment, you felt immense happiness wash over you, your face felt a little hot from the praise and you felt a little embarrassed.

"Thanks guys, I promise to get better at being a manager too. I still have a lot to learn."

At the end of practice, you were helping clean up along with your not so secret crush.

"You know Y/N, I hope you don't mind what the others say about you."

You look at him. "Say what?"

"About your looks. It doesn't matter what a person looks like as long as they are happy and healthy." He says, looking at you with a sincere expression.

"Oh that, don't worry, I'm basically immune to those childish name callings, but thank you anyway for looking out for me" You smiled at him.

As you both continued to talk, you didn't see the rest of the boys spying on you both through the windows, silently cheering you and your crush on. They all are VERY supportive of you both, even though they all suck ass at being cupid.

Nekoma

No one and I mean no one has ever thought of bad mouthing you.

You quite literally were the sweetest girl in the whole school, always having pure intentions. No one could ever hate you, you got along with everyone.

You heard the volleyball club was looking for a manager for a while now with no luck so you decided to give it a go.

"hello I'm-"

"Y/N!" A few of them called out, running over to you. You recognised nearly all of the members, you had spoken to them at some point during your time as school, even the ones that were not in your year. You knew the basics of volleyball since the school sometimes made you do that in your Physical Education class.

Yamamoto was all over the place, he could basically explode with how much joy he felt. His team finally got a manager. He was so going to boast about it to his friends outside of school.

What amazed you was how seriously the boys took the sport, you weren't all that much into sports or anything really, you struggled to find something to actually be that passionate about that could lead into a future career.

So you weren't able to understand but respected their dedication and efforts nonetheless.

You were really good and hyping the boys up and giving them motivation when they needed it, some of them became very fond of you.

Kenma would sometimes try to hide behind you whenever Kuroo would be scolding him, you would give kuroo a sweet smile and lie to his face saying "I haven't seen Kenma all day!"

Whenever lev would to the same, it wouldn't work out the same but you found it enduring still. You would let out a laugh before acting like insanely tall guy was actually able to hide perfectly behind you.

Yaku would often tut at you for playing along, saying that lev needs to learn but you keep taking the seriousness out of it.

"But he has gotten better though, hasn't he?" you would say back.

"Not enough!" yaku would reply back before huffing away.

Though despite you being all smiles and sunshines most of the time, you did have moments where you would get a bit serious.

During tournaments specifically, the boys were good, really good even but so were other teams.

When you get nervous you would become quite and have a serious frown on your face.

Kinda scared the boys a bit ngl-

lev would laugh tho.

Maybe kuroo too.

They find it cute more than scary okay?

You would give them a pep talk before their very first game, promising to buy them all ice cream if they come first place.

Though no one at your school has ever badmouthed you, that doesn't mean people from other schools wouldn't.

Since you were on the chubby side, you were prone to some bullying when you were younger, though in middle school it died down a lot. The boys never saw you differently because of your weight though, you were sweet and a really good manager to them so why wouldn't they adore you?

So when they would overhear people from other schools making fun of you just because of something as little as your weight, they didn't take it that lightly.

They would only stop yelling threats and curse words when their next match is about to start or the "bad mouther" runs away. Kuroo once nearly got a bit physical too.

You would then tell them to ignore that when it happens since there is not use wasting breath over people like that, it's not like you take what they say to heart anyway... well most of the time anyway.

But like always. the team refused to ever ignore anyone making fun of you.

It's almost like you have a bunch of protective brothers, they sometimes tease you but no one else can.

I do hope you like it! Let me know if you want more :)

#haikyuu manager #haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haiykuu #haikyuu #nekoma manager #nekoma x reader #nekoma #karasuno x reader #karasuno headcanons #karasuno manager

[iamsonny-j]

This was originally going to be in reply to @glowinggreeneyes-e post about the Captain's education and career path...but then I got carried away because I'm so normal about this stuff so it's now its own post...with added angst because I have no control over any of this, my brain just goes.

So for a start the Captain would have gone to a public boarding school. I think it's worth pointing out that public schools and universities operated scholarships for students from less wealthy backgrounds. We're still talking middle class and upper middle, but not always full on wealthy and privileged in the way of someone like Julian. Cap strikes me as having the background of a family well enough off but he probably always had to work hard to prove himself for his place, maybe not so much for public school but definitely for university.

Whatever school he attended would have had an Officer Training Corps junior division. Basically cadets. This would lead to the possibility to do an exam (written and practical) to get what was called certificate A to show he had participated in the OTC.

From the Button House Archives it says Cap got to the front in WW1 at armistice and so never saw action. So I imagine he finished his studies at school in the summer, enlisted and completed basic training, and then was out to Europe just in time for things to end. Because he got his certificate A at school he had the option at university to join the OTC university division. This was a route to becoming a commissioned officer. You either needed certificate A or experience in the ranks to join. For the sake of argument, serving in the army for a couple of months wouldn't count as experience so he must have had the certificate A...

University options at that time were limited to Oxbridge, Durham or London. All of those had OTC. I think London can be ruled out...only because it was busy, loud and ugly, even then (sorry London friends!) and the Captain likes wildlife and the countryside and nature walks...I can't see him thriving in London.

Training with the OTC at university involved physical training, military strategy, history and law etc. The Captain would have had to complete 2 years training before he could have done exams for his Certificate B - practical and written. Passing the exams would have entitled him to a commission on graduation. Getting Certificate B wasn't common because of the amount of work involved and dedication required to be successful. It was hard!

Like I want to point out that to get that far would have required so much effort and dedication right from being a child. And this is where I will get sad and headcanon-y for a bit (let me have this one thing out of all this research!)

Bullying and abusive rituals were a big part of public school life at this time and any boy seen as even slightly different would have been targeted for sure, even by some of the teachers. So although Cap comes across as clever and capable at what he knows I think school would have been socially really freaking hard. For a child in that situation I could see the OTC being a respite and something the Captain would have found very comforting with the set rules, order and expectations and from there you can understand why career army would have been appealing...

And I think that's when things get a bit complicated. The army was his life but in a different way to officers who wanted to be on the front line, like Havers. Obviously Cap worked extremely hard for his commission - and he was obviously very well qualified and knowledgable in his areas of interest, but he was always ever going to be best at HQ tasks like intelligence or engineering or whatever his particular career skills were - loving the army in theory, but some of it would have always been out of his reach. And I think being in a public school during WW1 and hearing of so many former pupils (some he would have known personally as seniors, prefects or head of houses) losing their lives on a daily basis during WW1 would have had a huge effect on him and probably influenced some of the guilt about not having the opportunity to fight himself, but ultimately I think he probably knew that wasn't his part to play even with WW2.

And I think all that that shows in his interactions we see in his past as CO - he was obviously doing a good job at whatever secret little operations he had but he really didn't have the skills/personality needed to be a CO. Having someone like Havers as a second hid that (and that's also seen in Havers getting 2 promotions in 4 years...he was much more of a natural CO) and I wonder if a lot of affection that Cap had for Havers originally came from the fact that Havers not only respected him as CO but he was also just kind to him and saw a person worthy of affection - rather than the CO that everyone tolerated but secretly disrespected and laughed at (just look at how all the other officers couldn't wait to come down on him in 5.05)

And then he lost Havers. But still had to command up to 150 men and operations at Button House for the next 4 years. And it's obvious from the letters and information in the Button House Archives that he really REALLY did try and I think with considering everything it's no wonder he overcompensates a lot and that's where he's at in the first couple of seasons of Ghosts; fighting for authority and trying to do his best.

Last sad point because it does relate: When he died Havers gave Cap the swagger stick to hold - Havers still called him 'Sir' even though he outranked him at that point. I don't know if I can begin to unpick all of that, but there's definitely something in there about respect, belief and the burden of responsibility that he clearly took seriously into his afterlife not wanting to let Havers down both personally and professionally.

If you read all of this I love you and respect you and appreciate you for appreciating my level of not normal xD

#bbc ghosts #the captain #i missed sharing infodumps so much #please feel free to add

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for complaining about a teacher?

context before i start: the class i'm in takes up 3 hours of the day, and was the only reason i came to this school in the first place. it's an art school and is supposed to be somewhat serious—like, you have to apply to get in. but the 2 years i've been here we've had like 4 teachers (+ there have been even more before that) and none of them have been qualified for the job whatsoever

our newest teacher just got out of college and doesn't know what she's doing. she doesn't assign work that's actually creatively challenging, 1 hour of class time is usually dedicated to a really bad prompt and the rest of the time is independent work, it's barely an actual art class. she also never talks to the class and doesn't really have a clue what's going on ever. supposedly she has a degree but she just seems so. confused. the reason i'm still at this school is because i know people here who live upwards of 40 minutes away who i'm very close with + along with that i'm also autistic so any kind of drastic change would be hell. unfortunately leaving, though it would be the best option for me, is just not an option at all

anyway, we're already a quarter of the way through the year and people are still saying to cut her some slack because she's... new. which is kind of exactly what the issue is? i went through something similar to this last year because one of our previous teachers gave me really bad vibes and just didn't really work, so i complained about her to my classmates, and then i went to the administration about some issues i was having and she ended up quitting a few weeks after. people thought i got her fired on purpose. i was a little bit overly angry looking back so idk i can't blame them

anyway, i recently went to the admin about this new teacher (unlike last time, i tried to "give her grace" and hope for improvement, even though... idk... i just don't see it happening) but haven't really held back in complaining about her to my classmates too. most of the time people will say i'm being overly negative, or they don't want her to get fired, and honestly it's just fucking wild to me. they've also made comments about how she's not a good teacher! like everyone agrees that she's just not ready for this position and they're really sick of not being able to learn things! when i do complain though it's like i'm messing up some kind of social contract there is to just not do anything about the problem we're having and it's really confusing and frustrating

but at the same time i do wonder if this is me being overly critical and nitpicky of a situation that i shouldn't be. to me, because of aforementioned autism, i have a really strong sense of justice. this kind of stuff seriously bothers me and it upsets me that nobody else is as affected by the unfairness as i am?? idk. i just want the class to actually be worthwhile because the academics are really good

so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[kiragecko]

Hey Tumblr disability and neurodivergence communities?

I wanted to thank y'all for helping my husband get comfortable with getting a support my eldest needs.

-

NQ goes to a middle school that is just SLIGHTLY under the minimum distance away to qualify for bus transport. (His elementary school, across a field, WAS far enough away.) We didn't have any trouble getting an exception for him this year, since in elementary school I needed to make eye contact with a teacher and have them acknowledge they were accepting responsibility for him. He had no agency at all, so obviously he couldn't be trusted to walk all the way to school!

This year, though. He's flourished. The school trusts him to get into the building himself, to get on and off the bus himself, to decide for himself when he needs breaks, etc. And as a 'reward,' our government sent me a form titled 'Physician's Certification of Physical/Severe Cognitive Ability,' to be filled out before he is allowed school busing next year.

It's full of hyperbolic language like, 'it is imperative that only those truly in need are provided this service,' 'the disability must be deemed severe or chronic,' 'resources ... are extremely limited,' and 'it is physically impossible for the individual to walk/take [Public] Transit.'

My husband was obviously uncomfortable. NQ is a smart and capable kid in many areas. He's autistic, (and ADHD) not cognitively disabled. My husband sees the world as possibilities and strengths, and didn't want to say things like that about his son.

So I talked to him about posts you guys have made that walk people through getting diagnosed, and/or filling out forms about disabilities. About the importance of describing the person's worst days, the ones where they will need the support the most, rather than focusing on what they can do at their best.

He got it! He supports us talking to the doctor! And he told me how grateful he was that I'd learned this stuff.

We got to talk about the reasons NQ REALLY needs bus support:

no sense of direction

forgets what he's doing and wanders vaguely for 20 minutes on a regular basis

VERY easily distracted

'Getting Off The City Bus At The Right Stop' is an advanced skill, and, for those with ADHD, requires a prerequisite 'Can Problem Solve What To Do When You're 10 Stops Past Your Stop And Lost'

'Checking That This is The Correct City Bus' is also an advanced skill

minimal stranger danger

germ phobias mean that if he wiped his nose his fingers would 'become contaminated,' which would mean he could NOT put his gloves back on, even if it was -20℃ (0℉). Which is a major frostbite risk.

no impulse control if he misses his medication - can not be trusted to not do things that might harm himself/others

without meds there is a 2% chance of him getting to school unassisted (with meds, he might be able to get up to 90% on good days)

Like, taking the bus is actually a sign of maturity! Previously, I had to drive him most days, and I still do 3 mornings a week. The 2 mornings he walks himself to the bus stop (and the afternoons he walks himself home) are things I'm really proud of! If we don't qualify for the school bus, he's going to go back to relying entirely on me, rather than slowly increasing his independence.

So thank you. Getting my husband's support on this was really important to me. You guys gave me the words to do it.

#disability #neurodivergence #possibly #ableism #none of this is meant to be 'ugh why can't he do these things' #half of them are things I struggled with even as an adult #there's a reason I say 'getting off the bus at the right stop' has prerequisites

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Is it me or do other people find it jarring how Taika's haters try and distort reality and act like everyone loves him and they are the only one? Or that everyone acts like he's perfect and heaps him with praise for doing the bare minimum when from what I've seen no one who actually likes him does that.

I've seen people like 'if you're cancelling the last of us cancel ofmd cos Taika is zionist scum who supports genocide'.

Hi Anon! Oh interesting question. I don't know if I've personally seen a lot of that specific situation where they think everyone is blindly supporting him (I do tend to block after a certain point so maybe that's why?). If I'm understanding you correctly it sounds a lot like they're seeing any support of Taika as "HE IS PERFECT AND NO ONE SHALL CHALLENGE HIM" when most people who support him know he's not perfect (as no one is) and we accept him anyway.

Which is one of the things OFMD really drives home-- you're not perfect, that's okay! You can do better if you mess up! You are deserving of being forgiven!

Which I mean, in general I think that really points to your first point, that folks who are mad at him are kind of living in this distorted reality. But also too... I've seen this a lot in my personal life with ... various folks that some people see the world in a very black and white state. They see things as "if it's not this, it MUST mean THIS" -- in this case "If people support Taika, it MUST BE BECAUSE THEY THINK HES PERFECT", same with "If he asked for hostages to be released, HE MUST BE SUPPORTIVE OF GENOCIDE".

--- sorry long post is long, I'm in a rambling mood today sorry!---

Which.. to be fair there's a lot of cultural training for that.. as some folks have put in tags of other posts, it's lack of critical thinking and questioning skills. I know where I grew up they were super big into us questioning everything, but when I talk to some friends who grew up in other states here in the US, they didn't get the same focus on critical thinking in public school, and got more of it in college (and not everyone can afford to go to college). I had a really cool 11th grade English teacher who showed us a video in class one day. It was a parody of a documentary and was explaining how the earth was flat (which we didn't know at the time, they didn't tell us this wasn't real). It was weird because it didn't come out and say "the earth was flat" though, it came out with kind of vaguely reasonable sounding arguments from people with "Dr" in front of their name.

I remember looking at my friend who was really confused too and saying something like "wait is this for real?" and them shrugging at me. It wasn't until this part of the video where there's literally cows running around Antarctica that a lot of us were like, "wait this is totally not real". That English teacher.. after we got done with the movie started asking us when it was that we started questioning the validity of the video, and then went into this whole lecture about how especially when we're young, we're so used to just being FED information that sometimes we get fed completely false information and we just DONT know it. The whole exercise was all about questioning and critical thinking skills and how not every "teacher" or "doctor" is going to be as qualified as they try to tell you they are.

I found that whole exercise really eye opening because I had never really thought of people purposely trying to bias my education like that before. I'm sure there's thousands of ways that people learn these kinds of skills (and I know mine aren't perfect) but I found that one to really hit home-- so imagine never being taught that. Never being taught that if you start feeling like the thing being said doesn't sound quite right to question it.

Now of course, some folks are purposefully ignorant and that's a whole other issue, but I do think we need better critical thinking education all over the world (but especially in America what with the vastly different education depending on which region you're in).

ANYWAY omg im sorry -- I dont know if I even really addressed your point, so I apologize if I didn't (the ADHD is strong today I tell you)-- so if I didn't please let me know and I'll try again!

I hope the trolls aren't getting to you too much today, sending love anon <3

#personal #anon asks #asks #taika waititi #critical thinking

[acheronist]

hello!!!! thank you so much for your tarot analysis of our beloved captain dylan ♥️🤍 i am here to say that i will be a devoted audience to any and all drw tarot content (for the next forever) but also specifically to ask about hank being the empress and sergei as the chariot, if you have time 😭 you can’t just “btw” that in the tags and expect us to be NORMAL about it??

omg please.... i am not the oracle of detroit for no reason. i have been pulling season overview tarot spreads + cards for every wings game since 2019. if i'm qualified for ONE thing on this earth it's talking about card associations to players ✋🏻

empress - 40

i know you can find a lot of shit about how the empress is supposed to be about embracing this ~feminine energy~ but i think that's kind of bullshit. i see it more as like.. tending the hearth? and being gentle and loving but still a protector and a teacher? guarding what is beloved and dear to you and carrying yourself with a sense of grace and confidence. which is very much the way hank's captaincy panned out, dont u think?

in the halls of drw captaincy, his was interesting because he wasn't a leader for years and years and years like nick or steve, but he was really crucial to the team in a transitional sort of time. the championship team legends were retiring, new guys were coming in, there was sort of a new identity getting built in the lockerroom? on top of the um *cough* questionable choices kenny holland made as gm? hank's presence on the team as a touchstone through dramatic changes is what always struck me the most about his nhl career. he was a security that fans (new and old!) had absolute faith in. that steadiness is not something you see in every random nhler yknow.

which leads me into the fact that the empress also is a card of creativity. the empress sits with a crown of stars above her head, which ALSO suits hank a lot i think. he was a rookie when nick was captain. he was captain when dylan was a rookie. that's quite a long stretch of time if you stop to think about it. he spent his whole career being surrounded by stars and players with insane levels of creativity and ability to play the game. AND HE HAD THAT ABILITY HIMSELF TOO which is why he lead the forefront of it all. the red wings weren't the red wings without the eurotwins leading them to victories for a long time.

and i think there's a very loving quality to the empress as well, which of course extended to the younger guys in the room, but really shone most bright in the way that hank took dylan under his wing immediately & still is there, post retirement and off the ice, in the way that he still mentors dylan through hard times in the rebuild. i think the passing of that torch was obvious from dylan's first game, and hank did a really beautiful job teaching dylan how to act and grow up and be the kind of captain that's worthwhile, and truly means something in this city. and that devotion / mentor / compassion ties back into the meaning of the empress in a really special way I THINK!!!!!!!!!!!

chariot - 91

oh boy where do i start... even going all the way back to his initial defection from russia, there's always been such a furious independence streak in sergei that i just know it's impossible to tell him to do anything. there's a direction and confidence and borderline audacious(!?) attitude / motivation that's been in his freaky little Sagittarius heart since he was 18. and i think when u boil him down to his barest essential traits, that's one of the more foundational ones!?? and there really is not a card better suited to that attitude than the chariot

there's also something to be said about the chariot card imagery where the driver is being pulled along by the black and white sphinxes.

yeah uh huh. yup.

but also essentially the chariot is about overcoming obstacles, having the willpower and the determination to keep moving forward, the self discipline to get better, etc WHICH ALL I CAN PULL UP QUOTES FOR PRECISELY HOW THESE IDEAS CONNECT BACK TO SERGEI.

defecting from 1990s russia and his whole family and his entire life to go to a country where he didn't speak the language because he had enough confidence in himself to become a star.

growing up learning to skate on frozen rivers until he was a child and able to outskate and outplay adults.

the toughness it took in his heart to go back to the rink every day after his best friend was in critical condition and win something that'll always be bigger and more important than his whole life as an act of devotion.

the way he didn't let getting exiled ruin his career, but instead used it as a doorway to the next great joy of his career.

the way he's only just stopped skating and yet he still is winning back to back cups and achieving records and making history in his own way.

there's a stubborn need to always one-up his own achievements that haunts him soooo bad & you dont have that drive without completely embodying everything that the chariot stands for.

#drw #91

[sillygir1]

Sorry i'm inactive lately, i have uni assignments and i procrastinate on them by writing my own gameboy emulator in C (following image is rendered from a memory dump, but most of the instructions are already implemented, not their execution tho). Don't scroll past the image btw (i vent there, like a sussy idiot i am).

Venting down here, yeah

I only attend programming class and the other one that will get me expelled real soon lmao. We've been procrastinating (together! with my friend, we're doing the laboratory works (more like practice class, we're learning the theory, talk about it with a teacher dude (this one is not actually a professor or anything), then do some shit with electronic equipment and write a report about it) in two-person groups. But i blame myself because i was suggesting to procrastinate quite frequently, even tho we both seem to have issues lmao) and probably won't finish the thing, which probably will let to us being kicked out (my friend knows the subject way better than me so he has more chances to stay tho) on the next exam retake (oct. 25th and oct. 26th. If i'll fail an exam there'll be another retake with a commission and if i fail it i'll get expelled). Yes, there're TWO classes where this shit happened, but the second one cares about the laboratory works way less so whatever.

I'm also in uni cuz to avoid conscription (bad starting location, won't name it cuz you'll hate me or something idk) and recently lost my chance to change gender marker in documents (bad starting location 2 electric boogaloo, they've banned transitioning and the trans diagnosis itself, which was a thing here), so i actually need to do something about conscription problem as i'm doing last bachelor's year and will either work in IT (which is my only way after uni tbh, all i can do is code and shitpost in my telegram channel, but it's not really reliable against army based on what i witnessed couple of days ago), or go to the next level of uni (google says it's called Master's Degree), which is a huge pain in the ass as i don't qualify (mostly mentally but i also don't know jack shit, and the IT ones cost like at least multiple grands of USD, which is a fuckton of money here, like a year worth of living or something) for any of the programs (i'm currently doing bachelor's in physics lmao). Still better than a year of being bald, a hole-digger and an alcoholic, but whatever. I'm also doing two (both are free) additional courses rn, one (python and ML) was obligatory because our uni needs funding, and another one (web: React and Django, and some economics) is from some financial company. And i sent a request for another one (microelectronics in a security company, i actually really want to work with access control systems, sounds funky), hopefully they'll take me in.

There're also mental health issues (you know, normal ones, but I'm not telling you what i've self-diagnosed with cuz it's not how one gets their diagnosis lol) i do not get diagnosed/fixed cuz i'm silly (shit's hard, i have to ride a bus to another city AND walk afterwards, bruh. Not even talking about deciding on going and making an appointment, and spending considerable amount of money too.), and they're not really helping with the situation lmao.

I've also started learning spanish (using duolingo, ankidroid and pokémon zafiro alfa) as i find it quite funny, and also my favorite light novel series' sequel (sukamoka) is completely translated to spanish but not english (i read it in machine translation from chinese but really want a proper one). I will also use it to flex on people who can't speak any language except their native one well (there're some people like this around me, and yes, english is not my native language, it probably shows cuz i try to speak funky sometimes and don't know actual punctuation rules).

Anyway, if i won't be active for a long time - i'm still out there (don't worry, i'm a weak one and have commitment issues). Thanks for being around, funny gay people in my phone.

I've reread this like 3 or 4 times (forgor), i hope the post is fine lmao. Holy hell, if you've actually read till here - thanks and i'm sorry.

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Reap the Harvest - Part 4

sorry, not really any whump. essentially just more plot. (kinda... i'm trying anyway). not the proudest of this but i want it out so this is what we have!

CWs: hospital setting, essentially slavery of a fantast race, blood

Masterlist

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

Bridger wrinkled his nose as he entered the operating room, lugging the small cart of cleaning supplies with him. 

He’d been doing OR clean up for almost two and a half years but still hadn’t gotten used to the smell of blood. Or the rancid cleaner they made him use.

He hummed as he mopped, trying to distract himself from the blood and the feeling of the camera on his back. He could never decide if it was better or worse to see the cameras or to pretend they weren’t there. Either way they saw him, so in the end it didn’t really matter.

And he knew they were watching him closely.

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

Bridger had always wanted to be a teacher. Rayleigh was one. She taught half the preschoolers in Rockmire Hills. Bridger wanted to teach kids who had a better grasp on using a toilet, but still. He’d never thought of doing anything else.

He had all the qualifications for teaching. He’d taken all the courses, volunteered and subbed for classes. The kids loved him, and he loved them.

He’d submitted his application to the Employment Board of Rockmire Hills just before he’d turned eighteen. He was ready to be a teacher, and everyone around him knew it.

He was shaking with nerves and excitement the day he received his assignment a few months later, already imagining his own classroom and lesson plans--

Custodian. That’s what the paper said, plain as day. Custodian.

Bridger had cried. Luckily he was the only one home when the letter came, but he did. He cried and cried until Colin got home from school. And then he locked himself in the bathroom and cried some more.

He didn’t understand. How could someone like him, someone passionate and more than qualified for teaching, be denied? And assigned to custodian no less! He felt like the Employment Board was always complaining about a lack of teaching applications. How could this happen to him?

Rayleigh was livid. She’d been ready to march right into the Administrator’s office and give her a piece of her mind, she'd had her shoes back on and everything. Daniel had stopped her last minute and locked she and Bridger in their room.

“I was afraid this would happen,” he said. He sat on the bed with one hand around Rayleigh’s shoulders, like he was keeping her in place.

“What on earth do you mean you were afraid this would happen?” Rayleigh demanded. “They had no right to deny his application! Bridger wants to be a teacher more than anyone and he deserves it more than anyone! And we need him there!”

Daniel gave her a certain look before turning to Bridger. “I’m so sorry.” he said. His eyes were welling with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Bridger.”

“What are you talking about Dad? This can’t be right, can it? I mean, me, a custodian? Cleaning trash and blood, that can’t be right. They made a mistake and we have to go talk to them.” Bridger wiped his tears with the palm of his hand. “We have to. It’s not right.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“He has to reapply,” Rayleigh objected. Her conviction was lessening. “They have to at least let him reapply.”

Daniel shook his head. “They won’t accept it.”

Bridger felt the lump in his throat grow. “Why not?” he whispered.

“Because you fought back.”

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

Custodian for the past two years. A gigantic middle finger to Bridger’s entire life. All because he got scared.

They didn’t want someone with his ‘ideals’ teaching, Daniel said. Probably anyway.

Bridger just thought it was to actively torment him. He knew it was actually. He’d reapplied multiple times, for multiple different positions. They eventually just began denying everything with his name on it -- which he knew because his application for custodian was denied. Not like it mattered.

The door behind him suddenly slammed open, pulling him out of his pitiful thoughts.

“Heyyyy! I’m back!” Colin announced, hauling his own cleaning cart behind him.

“Took you long enough,” Bridger muttered, getting back to wiping up a puddle of blood.

“Actually it only took my five and a half days, so I’m faster than most.”

Bridger rolled his eyes. “Whatever man. Just get to work.”

Colin smirked, pulling an obnoxious lemon-scented cleaner from his little cart. “What, you didn’t miss working with me? It wasn’t hard doing all that work alone?”

Sometimes Bridger hated Colin. Well, not hated hated him. Hated him like everyone hated their brothers.

Colin was the favorite. Their parents denied it through and through but Bridger wasn’t stupid. it didn't make things too different. It was just true. Colin was the baby. The funny one, the one everyone knew and liked. He was laid back and chill. 

He had little to no ambitions, but that was totally fine with Colin and their parents. As long as he was ‘likable’. Working with Bridger, as a custodian, right now? That was what he had actually applied for. That was what he wanted to do. He didn’t know someone was watching their every move. He didn’t know anything.

Bridger swore it looked like there was no light behind his eyes. Like if he blew in one of his ears, he’d be able to feel the air come out of the other side.

“Like you do anything anyway, jerk. I liked the peace and quiet I had for once.” He jumped and Colin chucked a bloody rag at him. “Gross! You’re disgusting. Pick that up. And you’ll be working alone in like a week.”

“Already? Dang. Late last month and early this one. That sucks, man.”

“Whatever.”

“What is it?”

“Left arm.”

Colin lit up in faux excitement. “Hey! If you got it done last week we could’ve been twins!”

“Wouldn’t that have been fun.”

Bridger held his breath as he sprayed a particular spot of blood on the operating table, scrubbing with the stupid flimsy rags they give them to work with. He always had the worst harvest schedule. Back to back major donations, a million blood draws that left him freezing all the time. He missed Colin’s high school graduation because they decided they had to have his left leg and right hand at the same time.

It was to tear him down. Everything was to tear him down. Ever since that awful day two years ago, his life had never been the same. He realized that the world he lived in wasn’t as safe as he thought it was. It wasn’t set up in his or his people’s best interest.

It was set up, specifically, to harm them. To take away their autonomy, to make them think they wanted this and take away any and all chance to say no.

Crops don’t say no.

Bridger realized that Colin had been silent. Usually, he’d bask in that rare occasion for as long as possible, but when he looked up, Colin was staring right at him.

“What?”

“Can I--” Colin glanced up at the camera watching them and turned slightly so it was more towards his back. “Can I ask you something?”

 Bridger felt his face pale.

It couldn’t be good if he didn’t want the camera to hear. Was his harvest like Bridger’s first? Bridger thought that Colin had so much misplaced pride he wouldn't dare fight back but maybe he did? Maybe that was why he tried talking to him the other night? Colin couldn’t just be having those thoughts himself, it wasn’t possibly something he’d think of or put energy into. Right? Colin was too naïve. Too… simple minded to put it kindly. He wouldn’t.

“Bridge?” Colin stepped forward. “You good?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, getting back to work. “Yes I’m good. You can ask, just keep working.”

Colin took his sweet time getting back to it, but he did, glancing occasionally from Bridger to the camera, which he himself was pointedly avoiding looking at.

“Why did you get so defensive the other night?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Bridger. You know what I mean.” He lowered his voice. “You and mom both got really defensive when I asked if you -- if you even want to harvest --”

“I told you not to ask her about it again.” Despite himself, Bridger’s voice began to rise, a hot anger rising to the surface. “Can’t you ever listen to me? I said to just drop this. Why can’t you do the one thing I ask of you and stop poking your stupid nose around where it doesn’t belong? Huh?”

“I didn’t!” Colin argued. He stopped scrubbing to gape at his brother. “Geez, Bridge, take a breather. I didn’t ask mom again! And you’re not making me want to drop it by freaking out more.” He glanced at the camera again, hunching over a splatter of blood and what Bridger thought might be chips of bone. “Just like… what’s the issue?”

“There’s no issue.”

“Obviously. Look. I don’t think it’s okay we’re forced into this. What do you think?”

Bridger choked on air. Why? Why, out of everyone in the facility, did his idiotic little brother have to be the one with these thoughts?

“Why are you saying that?”

“Bridge… I didn’t want to do that.” He gestured to the blood surrounding him. “And this, do you think this Crop wanted to do this? It hurts. And we can’t say no! If they did this to the people outside, they would get to sign a waiver and get medicine and --”

“But you’re not outside.” Bridger’s heart rate climbed. The camera heard them. He knows it heard them. They might have people marching down there right now… Bridger got up and knelt next to his brother, leaning in. “Colin, I’m asking you to please please drop it. Please. I care about you.”

“Then tell me what the damage is. What’s going on?”

Bridger could feel tears pricking his eyes. Why wouldn’t he drop it? Why would he think these things in the first place? Why him?

“Why isn’t it okay to say that?” Colin whispered. His eyes were wide and scared.

Their eyes were the only thing Bridger and Colin had in common, looks-wise. Dark blue, just like their dad.

Bridger felt like he was looking at a mirror, staring into Colin’s fearful, blue eyes.

“Bridger, please.”

“Colin…” Bridger could feel the camera boring into the back of his head. “There’s a lot you don’t know about Rockmire Hills… and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

Tears filled Bridger’s eyes. He blinked them away.

“Listen, this sucks. Okay? It sucks, I admit it. I hate it here, every day. But it could be worse.” He wiped his eyes and stood up, glancing towards the camera. "Remember that it could always be worse.”

Colin took his arm, pulling him back down. "You're scaring me, Bridger. What happened to you? What do you know?"

"Nothing... You're better off not knowing. Believe me. There's nothing you can do anyway."

"How do you know?" Colin asked. He lowered his voice. "How do you know we can't... end it? Get out?"

"Stop it, Colin." Bridger gave a panicked look to the camera. He shook his head at it, hoping that they would understand. "Stop it now. Don't say that. Don't even think it."

"Why not? I hate it. You hate it. Do you want to do this?" He threw down his rag, splattering the blood on them both. "Seriously? You want to get cut open and then be forced to clean up after?"

"Colin, stop it right now."

"There has to be a way out. Somewhere we can go. We'll escape, and then we'll come back for mom and dad after we're safe and no one will find us. Maybe we can help others get out too! We can't be the only ones and --"

"STOP!"

Colin flinched back, eyes wide.

Bridger stood back up in a frenzy, eyes on the camera. "He didn't mean it!" he spoke to the lens. "He didn't mean any of that! Please, he wasn't serious!"

"Bridger what --"

"Do you realize what you just did?" Bridger yelled. He felt tears begin to fall, his chest heaved in panic. "You just gave them probable cause!"

"Gave who?!"

Bridger ignored him and turned back to the camera. Dr. Malsom or the nurses or the Administrator -- someone heard that. Someone now thinks that the Sharpe boys are planning an escape -- maybe a rebellion. That's all they need.

"I'll talk to him! I'll calm him down. I'll tell him it's not okay. He'll stop this, I promise, we'll get rid of these thoughts. I swear, I swear to you. I'll fix this."

Colin grabbed Bridger's shoulder and turned him around, shaking him. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm trying to save you!"

The automatic locks on the door clicked shut. The brothers froze.

Colin's voice shook when he spoke. "... Is it worse now?"

Bridger turned to him again.

"What have you done, Colin?"

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

taglist (sorry if i forgot anyone! lmk if you want to be added or removed): @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @darkthingshappen

#colin sharpe #bridger sharpe #classism tw #blood tw #hospital setting #i'm trying to worldbuild and make plot but my gosh i suck at it #so sorry if this chapter blows lol im just trying to build up to the Big Stuff and i want to get to know the characters more #reap the harvest

[wellofhavoc]

i'll never understand people who say tumblr posts about teens who wrote essays on ships and fandoms are fake posts automatically because i can assure you that autistic hyperfixation combined with plucky-teen ingenuity can create many excuses to write about fandom related topics in class

examples below

ALL of my creative writing projects i ever did were "secretly" fanfiction- all of them, i think maybe one wasn't but even that, i'm sure was a reskin of some anime characters i can't remember now. my main muses were star trek characters.

there was one english teacher who actually encouraged open topic papers on things relating to the subject in any way you want (she gave the example of cookies being at a party in one scene so a student a previous year had written a paper on cookies and the history of cookies) so OBVIOUSLY i wrote an essay on shipping after reading romeo and juliet and i only got points knocked off because i didn't clarify why one of my sources (andrew hussie/homestuck) qualified as a good source on shipping quadrants. i also once wrote a star trek fanfic where they visited a planet where the events of animal farm had taken place and the enterprise crew just sort of how to deal with that (i might have this one on a flashdrive somewhere???)

i actually made a board game based on the oregon trail for a class.... and used the torchwood cast as the "pieces" and some of the chance/community chest equivalents would effect you differently depending on the character you were playing (was destroyed by some assholes, but we did get to play it in class, which was fun!)

my US history teacher actually banned me from using star trek characters because i used them as analogies for EVERYTHING (branches of government, representations of different historical figures in power points- we made a fake newspaper once and i called it the "Enterprise Daily" and filled some other areas to make it look more legit like an obituary full of names that mean "red" and of course a spirk marriage announcement) and i actually got sent to the principal's office because OBVIOUSLY i pushed the envelope too far by putting a transparent picture of william shatner over EVERY slide of an otherwise pristine power point presentation but the principal didn't do anything and sent me outside while he talked to the teacher. (i wasn't in TROUBLE, but i was still heavily discouraged from doing that again)

i was on a speech and debate team and literally acted out the sherlock reichenbach fall in a duos category- we never placed, but it was a lot of fun

none of these were an "and everyone clapped!" moment for me and were VERY cringe, but they were still super fun and... honestly a lot of them helped me engage with the material way better than i would have in any other setting. most teachers (save that US history teacher) didn't really care as long as i met the other parameters of the project (see homestuck shipping source not being sufficient) as that's the goal at the end of the day: to meet the standards of the rubric. i only totally bombed on one project, but the teacher let me redo it and the fandom stuff wasn't the problem. teachers don't want to see you fail most of the time. if you ever got a low grade on a project because it had fandom stuff in it, i guarantee you just didn't link it believably enough.

i would be surprised if anyone on this site hadn't snuck their fursona into an art project or an anime gif into a powerpoint or a pokemon into a diorama about the animal kingdom or some fanart into a brochure or- oh- well, you get it

#havoc blog

[averyauthorship]

15 questions tag!!

I saw people posting this, and most everybody said to treat it as an open tag, so I decided to do it too! Tagging (with no pressure at all!!) @mjparkerwriting @kainablue @karimac @melusinewrites @mayonnaisepudding and also ANYONE who wants to do it!

The concept for this is to write responses to the following questions as if you are your original character answering, or just as yourself. I haven't talked about myself much outside of my writing on here, so might as well do it now, right? So! Answering as me!

1 - Are you named after anyone?

My first name (Avery) was just a name my parents liked. My middle name is actually my grandmom's and my great grandmother's name. My mom didn't want to name me that as my first name because she thought it was better as a middle name. So that's my name!

2 - When was the last time you cried?

I cry A LOT. Over songs, commercials, movies, shows. I make myself cry sometimes because I think it's healthy to let it flow. I literally started tearing up at a book I was reading today. The last time I cried cried though (for real, not because of content or something) was when I had a super bad panic attack. I have OCD, and sometimes you get so panicked you just melt :(

3 - Do you have any kids?

Nope! I would like to have a couple in the future, though.

4 - Do you use sarcasm?

Ehh, I have tried. But I am not sarcastic. I'll do it as a joke sometimes when someone says something obvious about me (i.e. Whaaat? Me? Liking books? That's crazy!) but not in any real way.

5 - What's the first thing you notice about people?

Definitely the way they carry a conversation. If they interrupt people, seem rude or ill engaged. I like talking, but I realize that conversations involve two people. It's a big red flag when someone can't share a conversation.

6 - What is your eye color?

Brown! Lovely, if I do say so myself.

7 - Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, no doubt. I can't actually handle scary movies (because of my OCD. Hate to blame everything on it, but it's definitely true. I ruminate way too hard on scary, violent things). I'm a sucker for a happily ever after! It's what I hope I can have one day, so I like seeing it in my media.

8 - Any special talents?

Besides writing (which I am learning to accept as a talent), I craft and sew for cosplay. I sing too, and I think I have a nice voice. I have a lot of hobbies, but I don't think most of those qualify as a "talent." I'm pretty dang good at building houses in the Sims. I think that's an underrated talent.

9 - Where were you born?

Maryland, USA

10 - What are your hobbies?

Ah, yes. I mentioned them before but let's list them: Cosplay (sewing and crafting and all that), reading, writing, drawing, painting, playing video games, baking, collecting items (is that a hobby? I do it so much I think it must be), jewelry making (it sounds so fancy but I just make little bracelets and earrings with shrink plastic sometimes).

11 - Do you have any pets?

My family does! We have four cats: Ash, Whistler, Taffy, and Pike. I grew up with cats, and I miss the ones we've lost every day. (RIP Rainier, Nauset, Odell, Asia, and Ebony.)

12 - What sports do you or have you played?

I am not a sports girly. Like AT ALL. But I did run cross country for a semester back in my freshman year of high school. I absolutely hated it. Instead, I picked up musical and children's theatre. That's almost a sport...? Generally, I like to swim and dance (I'm not good), but it's not like a "sport" really. Just for fun to move my body when I feel like it.

13 - How tall are you?

Honestly? No clue. Haven't measured in many years. Somewhere between 5'8" and 5'10" I would guess?

14 - Favorite subject in school?

I've always been really into English. (My dad was an English teacher so it was only natural.) Also, any English extracurricular like journalism and creative writing. I was actually a journalism major until halfway through college. I switched to focus on English and picked up minors in journalism and linguistics instead.

15 - Dream job?

I'm about to ship off to grad school to get my masters in library sciences, so the hope is to become a librarian. It's realistic, so I'm excited to do that someday! On the side, I really hope to be a published author. I don't expect to make much money (if any) but I just want to get my work out there for people to find if they need it.

#15 questions #15 questions tag #tag game #tag games #tag meme #about me #get to know the writer #get to know me

[celiaelise]

Saw a post talking about a live-action adaptation of a book, and how op understood that the cgi budget was limited, and there were other more important elements that it was going to, but they were still really disappointed that certain aspects of the source material were being left out.

And I feel like I've seen so many similar posts about so many things!! Especially fantasy-flavored things. It really just once again begs the question: what about 2d animation??? Like, these limits are being artificially imposed!!!

Or not even only that? CGI that's more stylized, or a combination of live-action and one, or more, forms of animation. Like, I know we tend to read live-action characters surround by 2d cartoons as goofy and silly, but they don't have to be! The beauty of art and storytelling is that you can use the tools at your disposal to convey literally any emotion, if you know what you're doing. I know all of us here on tumblr, at least, have found ourselves moved by ridiculous-looking comics, or short stories based on the jokiest of premises.

Which isn't even getting into the possibilities of puppetry and practical effects!!! 😭 Ugh!!! Like...some colored lights shining on an actor's face and a miniature in the foreground of the shot could absolutely have as much emotional impact as a painstakingly-rendered digital dragon breathing fire. I feel like we all know this??? Or at least we used to?

I know I'm really not qualified to talk about this, given that I almost never watch anything anyway, and film is certainly not my medium. But storytelling and art definitely are, and they are so, so important to me, and it's upsetting to think about just how much corporations have commodified them and boxed them in.

You know how we did fight scenes in one of the plays I was most recently in? (At my community theater with no budget, where ticket sales don't always even cover rent.) We used toy swords, which I bought at Spirit Halloween, and all of which I returned for a full refund once the show done, except for the one that fell apart while I was using it. Our fight choreographer set it up so the audience wouldn't hear the plastic blades hitting each other, more for the sake of eliminating the distraction than actually hiding that they were, very clearly, plastic.

And I'm not saying the effect was blockbuster-worthy, but I will tell you that many people gasped and at least a couple got misty-eyed when my character got "stabbed", despite the cheap weapons, and the lack of fake blood, and the fact that we didn't even bother to use a spring-loaded knife, and just slid the thing under my arm. (the ones we can afford always have a very audible rattle anyway, so that's probably for the best.)

And honestly, I'm still unlearning the need to cling to realism myself! (but community theater has been an excellent teacher for that) Also, I think I'm getting off topic. My point is, people have always been able to create compelling stories without the need for anything fancy. But we want to create stunning and immersive visual spectacles now, too, right!? There are literally countless ways to achieve that goal, but our culture seems to have latched onto, like, two of them. I'd love to see mass media produce the kind of imaginative innovation that I've seen webcomic creators produce out of their homes for free.

#of course there's also the whole driven by capitalism thing #and the question of whether anything can be as meaningful when it's meant to be consumed by so many people #but I'm running out of steam and this post is long enough :P #uhhh i have no idea what to tag this #cgi #animation #theater #acting #community theater #special effects #practical effects #movies #idk lol #also i wasn't thinking of h*mestuck at all when writing this but in hindsight it definitely could be relevant #my life #by elise #this of course isn't too imply that NO creativity or innovation comes from high budget productions #but they don't need me defending them

[not-poignant]

Hello Pia. I am sorry I always come to you for your advices and opinions, however I can't afford any therapy and your words always leave something deep in me. Like you are a mentor I can look up to. Please, do you have any advice what to do (or prepare myself for) when I feel I have a starting depression? I tried different hobbies, relaxed, read my favourite books.. but I still feel just sad, numb and meaningless. Sorry for bothering you Pia!

Hi anon,

Unfortunately there comes a point where suggestions don't actually beat professional help. It's kind of like if you had a broken bone. Sometimes if it's a clean break, you can do everything you need at home, and it will heal. It might not heal as well as if you saw a doctor, but at least it will heal. But if you have a really messy break, the longer you spend not seeing a professional for help, it just not only doesn't get better, but it will keep getting worse.

Even if you can't afford a therapy, I highly recommend going to your doctor (or a doctor in general - if you don't have a regular one) and speaking openly about how you feel. Most doctors in the world are able to prescribe antidepressants and other supportive meds without you seeing a therapist or a psychiatrist - that's how I've gotten most of my antidepressants in the past. I'm not saying you definitely need meds, but I definitely think it's worth writing down everything you've tried that hasn't worked, and then talking to your doctor about it.

It would be like really irresponsible of me at this point not to suggest professional support. When something is serious, you treat it seriously, and with respect, and sometimes that does involve going to a doctor about it, or speaking to someone in your real life who can check in on you, or make suggestions about what professional support might be best in the place you live. Some places have helplines. Some places offer free or discounted services. Some places offer depression support groups where you can meet other people who are also going through tough times. But I don't know what those will be, so it's best to have a look around.

Also, honestly, nothing I've tried has been as personally helpful for my depression - personally - than meds that actually helped. (Some meds don't, it can take time to find the right one). Like, I still get pretty serious depression even with meds, but I do treat it with respect. For others they might need support groups, etc. Even talking to a trusted teacher if you still have ways of contacted them, etc. can be helpful.

But yeah, sorry anon, I don't have anything more beyond what I've suggested because even my depression is actually managed with professional support. Sometimes you get the messy break and not the clean one, and if you get the messy break, there's only so much you can do on your own.

I will add that as everyone is living through a global pandemic, there is a certain amount of 'sad, numb and meaningless' that is actually pretty normal right now. But again, it's better to hear that from at least a doctor who is looking out for you, than a stranger on the internet who isn't qualified to give professional support, and who really thinks you might need to move to that level next.

#asks and answers #personal #dodgy advice #like my PTSD is med resistant but my depression does super well #on Valdoxan #enough that i get terrified when i think about having to stop taking it #doctors are generally cheaper than therapists in most countries #and many will do mental health questionnaires and give some med advice #they might also know of discounted groups or other ways to help you access care #also consider online therapy because it's often cheaper and more accessible #and you can use it in any country #at any rate #when depression is serious #it's time to get the serious folks involved - and that's the professionals #this is just my opinion #and it may not be the right one #i just feel like it would be irresponsible at this point #to suggest things like hobbies or socialising

[maddiem4]

Interim

Hindsight has clarified a lot of stuff for me that was murky in the moment. For example, this exchange I had with Mr. Davis on a playground as a child. "What's up, Mr. Deadname? Why aren't you playing with the other kids? I bet they'd love to have you." "I can't. I'm too scared about my papers I have to write when I get inside. I keep missing assignments and getting zeroes." "Yeah. That's something I needed to talk to you about. Everything okay there, champ? Everything alright at home?" "It's just..." I struggled to find the words. "It's just that anybody else could live my life better than I am right now." I sniffled, pretty upset by this point, but not really at our teacher-slash-principal. "Anybody else could have a great life with what I've got to work with. Anybody. And I can't make it and I don't know why." Mr. Davis didn't really know what to do for me. I tried not to cry but my shoulders shook. He awkwardly patted me on the back. Gently, but... lost. Adults don't always have the answers either. "Hang in there." And then he gave me some privacy. I've thought about this moment in hindsight many times since my ADHD diagnosis. It's tough to watch your peers succeed, and not know why the same tasks feel impossible for you. And I thought I had this moment figured out. "I'm the future Mr. Deadname. I have the answers now. It all makes sense." I really didn't think I needed to examine this moment deeper. How many layers could there be? Well, more. More layers. And I'm feeling humble enough to believe I should never treat a memory as entirely unpacked. Who knows tools of archaeology the future will bring?

Because there was this feeling growing up, that I never had the tools to examine at the time. A disconnection. And it shows up surprisingly clear in this quote. Even this young, I felt like my life wasn't my life. It was somebody else's, and I felt like I was just... borrowing the body as politely as possible. It wasn't mine to wreck, and I better do a good job, because that's the right thing to do. It's what I'd want someone to do for me. The golden rule. It's hard to overstate how literal this felt for me. I didn't feel like I knew who I was, because I was constantly on duty trying to maintain a body for somebody else (that I'd never met) who'd be back Any Day Now. I wondered if they'd be proud of me. Or even just okay with what I'd done with the place. I tried to be normal. I tried to give them good material to work with. But I was never Mr. Deadname. I was the... interim Mr. Deadname. The steward, the substitute, the fill-in. Just housesitting with no end in sight. I couldn't internalize compliments because they were for him. I freaked out when I wasn't able to live up to who he was supposed to be - pretty often due to other issues. The thought that I might have to be the pilot for the whole rest of this life was wearying to the point of physical agony. I treated this hypothetical person like he was more real than me, more deserving of love, belonging to the web of people that came first before me. I put myself last, behind the facade even. At least he deserved to be around. And I didn't want any of it. It wasn't my life, I wasn't qualified, it was too much. Why did God put me in charge of this life? Why. Not. Any. Body. Else.

I do think a lot of my memory issues growing up come from being constantly detached at the time they were happening. As a young teenager I was already faking my way through some days in a fugue state. The memories I do have are more precious than painful in hindsight where I can relive them with knowledge I didn't have at the time. Moments where I shone through and didn't realize. Moments that could have felt so good if I'd known how to frame them.

I guess I'm writing this because I'm mourning a lost childhood, even a large portion of adulthood, that I only have in scraps. There is so much I could restore if I hadn't thrown it away. Because now I know that Mr. Deadname is not some real person that's gonna come back and tag me out someday. This is my life, it's my body, and I finally know how to shape it around me. I am not just the pilot. I'm the mind but I'm also the body, we're one together and nobody else can have it. And I'm gonna use it to live.

#philosophy #trans #highly personal #childhood trauma