#I think i may try this one place where they teach elementary students about the beauties of farming :)

[theghoulboysblog]

getting into doing volunteer work but IDK WHERE TO VOLUNTEER AND IT IS STRESSING ME OUT 😭 i really wanna do environmental services (like clean up or planting) or help people in need but there are so many places to choose from and idk how to make the right choice 😭 STRESSING!!!

[mariacallous]

When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Anna Zakharova was teaching world mythology to elementary students at an elite private school in the center of one of Russia’s largest cities. Unlike typical public schools, her school wasn’t required to teach the Education Ministry’s “patriotic” lesson series or hold events promoting national pride. Even so, the Kremlin’s pro-war talking points gradually began to seep into the conversations of these young and exceptionally privileged Russian children. Zakharova told the independent outlet Holod how it all unfolded and what she did to fight back. Meduza shares a translation of her account.

The names of the children in this story have been changed.

For the past three years, I taught at a private elementary school I’d rather not name. It’s a small, well-run, fairly expensive school in the city center, and the kids have every reason to love it. There aren’t any “Important Conversations” lessons or other aggressively patriotic events there. The school feels like a secluded world — a kind of fortress where the horrors of the outside world barely seep in. Life inside goes on — if not quite as it did before, then still relatively undisturbed. They don’t discuss the war with the students; instead, there’s a lot of focus on culture and the arts. There’s even a dedicated subject for this, loosely titled “Mythology,” which is what I taught.

‘A crack in the fence’

Of course, we worry about the teenagers. We’re afraid for those who are anti-war or LGBTQ+, for those who can’t talk to their parents, who argue with classmates, who are scared to challenge teachers, who are held hostage by their families and schools. They have “Important Conversations” lessons, murderers visiting their classrooms, and their still-developing beliefs and values are being damaged in ways we’ll all have to face one day.

I didn’t think I needed to worry about my own students. I started teaching them in the gap between COVID-19 and the war, and in those first six months, I thought the worst that might happen to them was the school they’d attend for fifth grade — a place that would thrust them into a world they weren’t ready for.

In my last lesson with my fourth-graders in late May 2022, I told them the story of Prince Siddhartha — how he grew up in a golden palace, surrounded by young and beautiful servants, and how, through a crack in the fence, he glimpsed poverty, illness, and death, and how, in the end, he became the first Buddha.

By then, the war had already begun. I knew some of them might leave that summer. I read them a story recorded by the Teacher for Russia project, where a girl describes playing with her friend after school under their village’s solitary streetlight.

“I’m telling you all this, just you, because you’re fourth-graders, and you’re about to step out of your golden palace — that is, out of this school...”

“We get it.”

I don’t know if they did, but they looked at me with a hint of distrust.

‘How gods punish’

My very first first-graders: Lena, Anton, Kolya, Serezha, and ten others. It’s the middle of the second term, three months before the [full-scale] war begins.

Today, we’re discussing the goddess Leto’s children — Apollo and Artemis. Artemis, the huntress, is almost more popular with the girls than Athena, the protector of cities, while Apollo, with his endless romantic troubles, doesn’t spark much enthusiasm.

For the last ten minutes, I’ve been telling them about Niobe and her children. Like my students, there are fourteen of them — seven boys and seven girls.

Queen Niobe refuses to make offerings to Leto. She, who bore fourteen children, doesn’t want to bow to the mother of only two. But Leto’s children are gods, and gods can avenge an insult to their mother. Silver-bowed Apollo kills the boys, one by one. The huntress Artemis kills the girls. The youngest girl tries to hide in the folds of Niobe’s tunic, but Artemis kills her too.

The children sit before me in a semicircle, their faces lit by the projector’s glow. On the screen, a pale statue of Niobe shields her youngest daughter with her arms.

“What do you think — were Apollo and Artemis right?” I ask each of them, one by one, from left to right. If I’d had even one more year of experience in this (or any other) school, I might not have dared such an experiment.

“Yes, they were right.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because they’re gods,” says one.

“Well, they’re right because she brought it on herself,” answers another.

“That’s how gods punish.”

“I don’t know; I think they’re right — they’re gods, after all.”

When I tell them, “You can disagree with the gods,” what I mean is: “You can disagree with me, with any other teacher, with any god — with anyone at all.”

‘Part of a pattern’

I have one lesson a week — 40 minutes to explore how Gilgamesh sought immortality or how Abraham nearly sacrificed his son. In truth, it’s woefully little. Naturally, we don’t discuss the war. I promise myself that if a child asks me about it, I’ll pause the lesson and answer. But they don’t ask. The oldest is 11, and I still feel I don’t need to worry about them.

In our extracurricular class, instead of medieval legends, we’re discussing The Lord of the Rings. Unlike regular lessons, this class doesn’t follow a set curriculum and is a smaller group — only those who want to come, come. The fourth-graders are reading Tolkien for the first time, while I’m rereading it. They often veer off the planned topics (Tristan, Isolde, King Arthur) to talk about the Shire or Mordor. As I join the discussion, I can’t help but feel its painful relevance, though I’m unsure if they sense it too.

Something shifts in December 2023. Or rather, that’s when I first notice it. At first, it’s just a feeling, like a faint, unpleasant smell or a constant, distant hum. I can’t catch all the details, but I hear — or maybe imagine — unsettling jokes among the older kids, random phrases from the younger ones that sound too grown-up.

The first time it happens is on a Wednesday, during the last class of the day. We’re in the playroom, cushions and poufs are scattered everywhere, and with five minutes left before we start, the boys are building a pillow fort. Serezha, sitting in the center, declares, “I’m a princess.”

Lyosha laughs. Pavlik, gathering his pillows, adds, “Lyosha, you’re a princess too,” and smiles.

Lyosha jumps up, rushes at Pavlik, and kicks hard into the cushions Pavlik is holding against his stomach. One falls. I bring Lyosha back to his cushions and the now-destroyed fort.

“Why did you do that?” I ask.

“He called me a princess.”

“We don’t respond to words with violence,” I say, starting to realize what upset him. “That’s no excuse.”

“What’s the big deal?” asks Pavlik. He doesn’t look offended and clearly just wants to sort things out.

“Well, what if I called you a girl?”

“So what if someone calls you a girl at school?” Pavlik asks rhetorically. “Besides, Anna sometimes says things like that too,” he adds, nodding in my direction and making an imaginary crown with his fingers. “’Imagine I’m the Pope, and you’re a peasant,’ for example.”

It’s true I often do this when explaining something complex. I assign the kids and myself parts to play; it’s easier for them to understand. It’s a strange outburst. Really, why is it so frightening to be called a princess?

Over time, this incident becomes part of a pattern — a series of unexpectedly aggressive reactions to offhand remarks. I don’t know Lyosha’s father, but I can imagine him teaching his son how boys should look and behave, and I have nothing to counter this imaginary person with. I see Lyosha once a week, and only to tell him about King Arthur or the Crusades.

‘We’ll bomb them all’

A couple of weeks later, the same boys settle onto the cushions. The first slide of my presentation is black, with a single white sentence in the center: “The only good they brought was that apricots ended up on European tables.”

“So, what do you think we’re going to talk about today?” I ask.

“Egyptians?” suggests Pavlik.

The fourth-grade class had guessed “Arabs or Japanese,” so I’m not exactly surprised. “Don’t you think that sounds a bit prejudiced?” I ask. This had worked with my previous group, but not here. They keep going:

“It must be about some Middle Eastern people.”

“Guys, listen to what you’re saying, please,” I plead.

“Are we talking about Jews?”

“Okay, stop. If you don’t see the issue, let’s try this: ‘The only good the Russians brought is…’”

I can’t even finish before Lyosha jumps up, his face flushed with anger: “Yeah, well, we’ll bomb them all if we have to!”

A few weeks later, in a similar situation, it’s Pavlik who shouts, “Guys, we’re Russian!” But unlike Lyosha, he finds it hilarious.

‘For Russia!’

I’m discussing the Hundred Years’ War with the fourth-graders.

“So, England wasn’t enough for this Edward?” Dima gestures at the map. “It already had everything — look, the whole south of France was England’s too. So he was just greedy, right?”

I smile. “Seems like it. That’s how it goes sometimes. Just imagine, he never even found out how the war ended. And then, after that, there was another war, an internal, almost civil war, that lasted 30 years.

Dima frowns, staring intently at the map again. “And what was Russia up to?” I don’t even have time to answer before he adds, “If only Russia had just conquered everyone back then. That’d be cool!”

Now, I’m at a loss for words. A few of the kids shout, “For our side!” and “For Russia!”

‘Ukraine won’t even exist’

“Who won the Hundred Years’ War?”

This time, it’s a second-grade lesson.

“England!”

“France!”

“France!”

“Ukraine!” yells Kostya, who loves to blurt out things like this. I know he isn’t trying to disrupt; he just wants to say something funny.

One of his classmates fires right back: “The word ‘Ukraine’ won’t even exist!”

In a normal situation, a teacher should pause the lesson and have a real conversation with the kids. A long one, not like what I did. All I managed to say was that in my class, we’d never speak that way about any country, that it’s simply unacceptable. I think I was so shaken by the fact that a second-grader could say something like that, I couldn’t find better words. So, I quickly steered everyone back to the 15th century, to England, France, and their kings.

But that’s not enough. We adults now speak in coded language. We know how to ask careful questions and interpret careful answers, to mention something offhand, to give a knowing smile and say “before things went bad,” to spot “our people” by the look on their faces. Children don’t know how to do that.

‘Our side’

In this school, first-graders learn the myths and legends of Ancient Greece. We end with the Trojan War and Odysseus’s journey. There’s Agamemnon insulting Achilles, Achilles losing Patroclus, and finally, the battle between Achilles and Hector.

“But our side won, right?” Ksyusha asks.

“Our side?”

“The Greeks.”

“Did I mention how Agamemnon nearly sacrificed his own daughter just to go to war? Or how Odysseus threw Hector’s little son off the walls of Troy?” I tell them about Hector and his family, about King Priam. I don’t have Homer’s text in front of me, but I try, as faithfully as I can, to recreate the scene where Priam begs Achilles for his eldest son’s body. But it’s really something else I want to say, about something else. I know I’m crossing into territory that might not be appropriate for first-graders.

“They’re people, just like us,” Tyoma says suddenly. “It’s not their fault they were in Troy.”

Tyoma is a quiet, reserved child, and I can’t be sure he fully grasps what he’s saying. So often, I’ve heard children bring disturbing words from home, and so often, I’ve hoped they don’t truly understand their meaning. But now, I very much hope that Tyoma does understand.

My first-graders know who Aesop is, but that doesn’t mean they speak his language. I don’t work at that school anymore, so I can’t give advice on this, not even to myself. Still, I should have been direct with them. We all need to be direct with them.

Because war touches everyone. Even the youngest, the most sheltered, the most privileged — even those in private school, those homeschooled, those living in other countries. If you have children, talk to them about this war. They already know it’s happening; they’ve grown used to it. Remind them that it’s not normal.

One day — maybe far in the future — we’ll all have to return to normal, to rebuild, to remember what a world without war can be. But for those who started first, second, or third grade this year, there will be nothing to remember. No matter how secure our lives or our children’s lives may seem, the war reaches them, too. Even the happiest child in the best of schools can’t help but know there’s a war — but they might not understand that it shouldn’t be happening.

[pro-anomalocaris]

I spent a lot of time in college (I graduated this May) trying to explain to professors that no, every person present does not know how to use Excel, no, we didn't all have iPads in middle school elementary school, no, we weren't taught how to format emails, etc. They assumed we had those skills inherently. They were angry when students did not, because they took it to mean students were actively choosing not to use skills they had in order to be obstinate little shits. For years, I tried to explain that not all schools teach all the things you think people should know just because those things would be good and logical to be taught.

Eventually I gave up on being nice about it and just laughed out loud at the suggestions. Sure, sweetie/professor, the student from a rural Montana town with one school building for middle and high school and a population of 4000 had an iPad and knows Excel and had typing class and whatever. They also had rainbows for breakfast and dined on unicorn steak at lunch. Yeah, the student from a census designated place in the least densely populated part of Montana whose hometown had 93 people who didn't have good enough internet to watch videos is very familiar with YouTube and video essays, just like he's also familiar with building his own rocket ships and seducing the moon. The kids off the reservation whose high school had holes in the roof for years totally had iPads and iPhones and know how to take videos and send them and change the file format.

Professors only ever listened when it was framed as, "Pfft. Did you hear this guy? He thinks Wisdom has iPads when it doesn't even have 100 people, lmao". When students tried to explain their lived experiences were not that of their middle-to-upper class professors from more developed areas, they were dismissed. The only way to get professors to accept the facts was to turn it around and go, "You lack knowledge about something? Wow, what a dumbass" because people who love to imply their students are dumbasses who refuse to use skills they totally possess are, like most bullies, thin-skinned. They can dish it out, but they can't take it, even for a second.

By far the funniest case was my Social Stratification professor, a woman whose very job was to talk about poverty and inequality, getting mad at me for shaking my head when she said we all took classes in Microsoft Office. My school had a typing class, but it was an elective most of us didn't get to take. I was in the back row in her class and didn't say a word to her, I just shook my head in disbelief. The woman whose whole job is to pretend she knows about inequality and poverty didn't understand that not every school in the US has funding for computers and classes related to computers.

I had to write a note of apology to her because the Dean of Student's Office said I was harassing her. Because I silently disagreed, once, during week one of a class for knowing that my town, which has cut every extracurricular except sports, doesn't have Microsoft Office classes.

A lot of people are invested in a fictional version of the world where everyone has lots of opportunities and access to resources and really hate it when you fail to play along.

The problem starts in middle/high school, but it doesn't get any better at the university level. It can't. Their denial won't let it.

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[malocclusive]

spent like the past 20 minuts going off on being overworked but honestly

who gives a fuck

I'm tired is the long and short, and I went to a case manager for a student with special needs who told me she was happy the kid was failing.

And I straight up asked her why she would ever think that way

And she said "Because this isn't the correct placement for this student, but the county won't approve payments to an outside school."

BRO IF I FUCKING KNEW THAT I'D BE SLAPPING THOSE 0S IN WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE

I'VE BEEN BORDERLINE CRYING MYSELF TO SLEEP ON THE DAILY.

I'm outside DC in one of the top ranked HS in the goddamn US, and I have kids who can't read or follow more than one direction at a time (images on paper as well as written even) with no para in my room. I have 36 kids and 45 minutes, with a 10 minute clean up. If I just have them go ham, I have 1 minute per kid regardless of ability or need.

I never even thought of it that way. I was in so many remedial classes as a kid and so neglected that I got into teaching. I'm constantly explaining away how to remediate a single point lost on asssignments so it can be resubmitted that I didn't even realize that was a wholeass thing used to force the county to provide services. I'm constantly trying to make sure everything is as possible to retake and accessible for ev*er*y*one that I've placed feelings of a kid over the fact the system is actively ensuring they aren't accommodated because it's expensive.

I still don't feel right, and I'll meet them where they're at despite it running me ragged and destroying me, but I didn't even have it click that the data is forcing the real hands with the money. That I fucking hate as a concept. These kids are already fucking snickered at for shit they can't control, they shouldn't have to look at failing classes when they genuinely are working where they're at. But also. Most of them aren't aware if they're at that point. Like, genuinely. I'm trying to pad the ego of someone with so few supports towards being diploma bound that only their family MAY be concerned about their grade. I'll still spend as much time as I possible can to help them make something they're proud of, but fuck.

I'll never be the person giving even the median amount of fucks in a situation. I needed that as a kid, but the sheer amount of apathy/number of kids/inability because I have kids with extremely limited fine motor skills being put in a ceramics 1 class is shredding the meat from my bones

I have so many wins day by day, but it's.... not good for me. It wasn't any different when I taught elementary honestly. At least now the majority of kids in my class understand cause and effect/empathy/their folks MIGHT understand they can't just do whatever they want and skip class and shit by high school.

I'm constantly having kids I teach; or adjacent to me who hang in my room after school/at lunch saying I'm a safe space because I'm so aggressively queer and supportive of just.... listening and helping them out with random shit. That's what I'm here for and it heartens me so much.

I've had kids come out as trans, intersex, terrible home life situations (That are so relieved when I chastely explain my own background which was pretty bad), LITERALLY HAVING A BRAIN TUMOR as of today, like. God. That's what I'm here for.

I've taught students with vary abilities and special needs for a decade now, but it doesn't get any easier to see that they're thrown into your room with no support. And the only way to fix it is to give reports saying "They're failing" and wait years. It makes me want to die, despite doing everything I can constantly. It'll never get easier unless i stop caring, but I don't think I can.

[robinvoyager]

Writing Log #1: Purpose of Public Education

My maternal grandmother has told me stories about practicing duck-and-cover drills during the Cuban Missile Crisis and the sounds of her classmates’ screaming when they learned that John F. Kennedy had been assassinated. My parents vividly remember where they were and what they were doing during events such as the September 11 attacks, the Columbine High School massacre, and the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster. Sometimes, I wonder what I will say when my children ask me where I was and what I was doing when a mob of Donald Trump’s supporters attacked the Capitol Building. After reading this week’s materials, I feel like the number one thing that I am going to pass on to anyone that asks me about the Capitol attack is: “[the attack] demonstrated several individuals failing to think critically.” That is what my mind kept wandering to when I read Henry A. Giroux’s Rethinking Education as the Practice of Freedom and James H. Shott’s The Value of Public Education is Under Attack, and Sinking. 

It’s disappointing that Giroux’s journal is the first time that I’ve heard of Paulo Freire and critical pedagogy. Several aspects of the journal inspired me, but I was particularly moved by the section that read: “Universities are now largely defined through the corporate demand that they provide the skills, knowledge, and credentials to build a workforce that will enable the United States to compete and maintain its role as the major global economic and military power. Consequently, there is little interest in understanding the pedagogical foundation of higher education as a deeply civic, political, and moral practice.” (Giroux 715)

The fact that schools often prioritize securing students a stable place within the American economy may not sound like such a bad thing. After all, schools do want to see their students become successful in the professional world. However, failing to balance academic instruction with pedagogical foundations is a massive threat to American society and prosperity.

Some individuals, like the Bluefield Daily Telegraph’s James H. Shott, believe that the inclusion of pedagogy in curriculums is the weapon of educational bureaucracy. Throughout The Value of Public Education is Under Attack, and Sinking, Shott condemns activities in American schools that he deems unacceptable: “There is strong evidence that some schools and school systems are teaching critical race theory; a system that classifies one race as oppressors and other races as oppressed. Gender fluidity is being taught in some schools in New York state. This encourages youngsters to question their gender and perhaps attempt to change it. The latter two topics are being presented to very young students, in elementary and middle school. These children are not old or mature enough to be presented with these topics, or to make decisions about changing their gender. Furthermore, none of these topics are officially part of the approved curricula; they are being added under the table.” (Shott,  The Bluefield Daily Telegraph)

Everyone has seen those memes online that lambast what schools do and do not teach students. They usually fall along the parameters of sarcastically thanking schools for teaching students that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell … while failing to teach them money management, taxes, and retirement planning. I’ve seen these spread even further by students and parents condemning schools for not teaching students how to be in a healthy relationship or how to resolve conflicts without violence. The ironic thing is schools have been trying to teach students these things through the activities that Shott, and so many others, consider “unacceptable”

Schools do not include gender fluidity in their curriculums because they want every student to change their gender; they teach it because it encourages students to be accepting of those who step out of the perceived societal norms and be proud of who they are. Critical race theory does seek to shame white people as oppressors; it hopes that students will learn from history and will not make the same choices as those who came before us.

Of course, blaming events such as the Capitol attack entirely on American education is neither fair nor accurate. Schools and educators can only do so much with the time and resources that they are given; and if a student, the student’s parents, or their environment reject education’s materials … what is there left for educators to do? I am not demanding that American education be held directly accountable for all the problems in the world. I am, however, encouraging that schools continue to include pedagogy in their curriculums because it will further public education’s goal to create a more prosperous world … in both the professional and personal fields…

Works Cited

Giroux, Henry A. “Rethinking Education as the Practice of Freedom: Paulo Freire and the Promise of Critical Pedagogy.” Policy Futures in Education, vol. 8, no. 6, 2010, pp. 715–720.

Shott, James H. “The Value of Public Education Is Under Attack, and Sinking.” The Bluefield Daily Telegraph, 24 Jan. 2023, https://www.bdtonline.com/opinion/the-value-of-public-education-is-under-attack-and-sinking/article_6ca70c00-9b2d-11ed-a44e-db2f855370f9.html.

[homoose]

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’  for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

[the-bat-collector]

SUPERBAT Rec List!! AU NO POWERS ish PART 2

No Powers or No Capes (There are some minor exceptions but I think this still applies)

Soo it’s become harder to find these fics and I kept postponing making this list just in case I found moreeeee. After some time convincing myself I decided that If I find more I’ll just make a part 3.

Here is the link to Part 1 Post

So without further ado. Here you go!

Storge by ichikonohakko @ichikonohakko

G - 3,310

Storge (storgē, Greek: στοργή) is liking someone through the fondness of familiarity, family members or people who relate in familiar ways that have otherwise found themselves bonded by chance. An example is the natural love and affection of a parent for their child.

Or the story of how Clark Kent meets the Wayne family children.

So this was in my mark for later and I read it as I was making this list and it’s very cute and adorable and highly recommend it! 

don't you know an apparition is a cheap date by knoxoursavior  @clqrkkent

E - 39,385

Clark has been able to see ghosts since he was eight, just a few days before his Pa died in his sleep. Years later, after having moved to the city with Martha to pursue writing, Clark meets Bruce Wayne, who takes an interest in his work and Clark in particular. Not long after they meet, Bruce asks Clark to marry him and Clark moves into a mansion that has more ghosts than it has people.

So I couldn’t find more AUs for this list, I was about to quit looking and yesterday I ran into this one and it gave me so much hope that there might be more out there (part 3?maybe?) I think of this as Ghost Whisperer Clark 

Stories for the Loved and Lost by MatchaMochi @renaimori 

M - 9,681

The first chapter leads Clark to another, and another. He turns the pages, eating the words up hungrily and feeling them, pored over the story as if he was reading someone’s personal diary. And the thing was, he knows it, he knows this story. He remembers flashes of memory that aren’t his, thrown in yesterday’s weird dream or last night’s nightmare.

or in which Bruce is an author and Clark is his fanboy.

I WILL read every single SOULMATE AU FIC I CAN FIND CAUSE I’D DIE FOR THIS TROPE. This is beautifully written <3 <3

Ghastly Murders in the East End by dippkip @dippkip

T - 38,227

London, 1888. A vicious killer known as Jack the Ripper has begun haunting the district of Whitechapel. In light of Scotland Yard’s inability to solve the case, intrepid reporter Clark Kent has made it his mission to track down this fiend and bring them to justice, though he may find himself more deeply involved in the affair than he bargained for.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne, a seemingly irresponsible and eccentric duke, remains largely unconcerned about these atrocities. The Batman, however, has taken special interest, and spends his nights relentlessly hunting the new murderer at large. The paths of these men will converge as the body count begins to rise, and their investigations and growing affections will cement their bond, intertwining their fates with that of the most notorious murderer in all of England.

OKaaaay this is one of the exceptions, Bruce is Batman but it’s a different century and Clark is powerless, I think it compensates. Usually I prefer when they’re both “capeless” but this was such a fun read. 

As You Grow by dnawhite76 & Prubbs @prubbs​ 

M - 59,946

After the death of his wife and children, Clark returns to the United States after spending years abroad to reconnect with his friends and their families. And while trying to gather what little remains of his old life and possibly move forward in his grief, he ends up falling into old habits with his first love and best friend, Bruce Wayne.

A story about grief and acceptance.

So I want to point out how good this fic is. I hate sad and this story has a lot of grief and I felt it was very grounded on its depictions of feelings. I tend to avoid this type of fics buuuuut this was so good. I couldn’t stop reading even if the grief got to me. It’s very wholesome and does have a satisfying ending. 

A good start by BlueAlmond @discretocincel​

G - 1,253  

Clark loves being an elementary school teacher, but it breaks his heart to see any of his students hurting. So, when he notices Jason waiting over forty minutes every day for someone to pick him up, he decides to have a word with his father.

Absolutely love Professor Trope!!! Sooo you could argue this is ficlet but doesn't feel like one to me so I’m not putting it in the ficlet section. 

Engraved In Our Souls by Nixie_DeAngel @nixie-deangel​

T - 9,004

It started with pain, with warm blood and bold, black letters. How was he to know it'd lead to a pair of gorgeous eyes, shimmering with the promise of life long happiness and love?

Or, after years of waiting, Bruce finds his soulmate in the least likely of places.

Little cute soulmate AU<3  AS I SAID I WILL READ EVERY SINGLE SOULMATE AU OUT THERE CAUSE I LOVE THEM

Ghosts by ren_makoto 

T -3,067

Wayne Manor is haunted. Clark doesn't mind.

Here is another of the exceptions, this is neither No Powers/No Capes, but they’re not relevant to the plot or we don’t see them using them (I don’t think they are mentioned but its implied). The Fic’s whole focus is on the ghosts! and absolutely loved it I LOVE REN MAKOTO FICS

There is Little Danger by ren_makoto

T - 5,327

"It's tradition," he said, one inch from Clark's mouth. "Yes," Clark said. "Tradition."

Or, where Bruce and Clark are trapped in an elevator

another Ren Makoto cause I can’t help myself

Semi-Permanent Couplings by ren_makoto

E - 10,463

"So, Bruce, how do you feel about one-night stands?"

Ren Makoto <3 <3 <3 This fic contains Adultery soo Read the Author’s Notes

Hubris by ren_makoto

M - 20,197

"This is turning into a routine," Bruce said breathlessly. "What can I do for you, Clark?" "Please," Clark said hoarsely. "I just want to get some sleep."

I really like the writing on this fic, this is a 100% NO CAPES, Clark does have powers and he’s starting to process them. Ren Makoto stole my heart with this one.

Not so Perfect Afterall by tekowrites

E - 6,966

AU: High school, Senior year. Clark thinks his life is nearly, if not already perfect. Then he overhears a conversation that changes absolutely everything. Bruce is there to pick up the pieces.

Red, White and Blue by melmel_79

E - 3,639

He works for the Secret Service, and it's best that no one knows he is in a relationship with the president. At least he hoped no one would know...

He grips the envelope tighter and knocks on the door to the Oval Office.

This was a mistake.

Late Night Feelings by the_butler @the-butler-fanstuff

M - 9,283

It was a little past one in the morning, the phone the only light in his room. He glared at it, then threw it to his side on the bed, not caring to see where it landed. A few seconds after, he patted all along the side to find it and looked at it again. He pulled up the messaging app, scrolled down, and then sighed. He exited the app and threw the phone on the bed again. He repeated this several times until some minutes later the phone chimed and he hurriedly sat up and felt for it on his bed. He opened the messaging app again and finally breathed a sigh of relief when he read the reply he’d been waiting for the whole night.

“Be there in 30 mins.”

I LOVE CLARK HERE, GOOD FOR YOU. He’s such a good adult looking out for himself! self-loving and self-respecting Clark here everybody.

it took me by surprise (I know you felt it, too) by jessequicksters @jessequicksters​

G - 1,124​

In which Clark and Bruce fall in love in between study sessions, track races, grocery shopping at Whole Foods and romantic student dinner dates, burnt lasagna and all.  

FLUFF, could argue this is a ficlet buuuuut dont care, it goes here.

Towards You by tekowrites

E - 22,607

AU where Clark is a new transfer student at an elite high school, and he encounters Bruce Wayne. Clark doesn't fit in, not anywhere it seems, and his crush on the star of the football team? Only serves to shows how much. Jealous girlfriends, misunderstandings, hormones and lurking trouble are just some of the challenges he's going to face.

I LOVE THIS , basically this fic made want to make a PART 2, just had to find 15+ other fics to add to the list. 

Read the tags, this does contain some heavy topics towards the end

The Game (of Love) by KaizokuHime @kaizokunohime

E -12,288

In WayneTech VR Augmented Gaming, a guild of superheroes has arisen who volunteer to help police that reality. One of these superheroes, Superman, has had a crush on his fellow member, Batman, for many years, but thus far has had little success on asking him out, even as fellow guildmembers. How will their relationship progress? And how intimate can they truly become without knowing the other's identity offline?

A Game You Can't Win gave me hunger for gaming fics, then I found this one and I WANT MORE GAMING FICS

Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang by ShowMeAHero @andillwriteyouatragedy

E - 8,354

Clark Kent is a professor at the same university as Bruce Wayne. Not that it matters, because Bruce doesn't really speak with his co-workers - they're there to work with, not befriend. That is, until Clark and Bruce are assigned to teach a class together in the fall, and start spending more and more time together, and Bruce starts to realize, maybe, he just might need a friend - and maybe, he just might need something else, something Clark-specific.

YES YES PROFESSOR TROPE. They are the best together!

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

SORTA KINDA MAYBE FITS THE CATEGORY

The Gift by tmelange

E - 5,564

University student Clark Kent is on a field trip to Gotham City where he meets a creature of the night.

VAMPIRE AU, soooo Clark has powers but he is not superman so NO CAPES on his part. Bruce is a Vampire and I’m not really sure if he’s Batman but he’s some sort of vigilante. This felt very AU and sorta? fit the category, so I decided to add it anyways but it’s worth to mention this is an outlier on this list.

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

SPECIAL MENTION CAUSE I HAVENT READ THIS ONE BUT IT WAS RECOMMEND TO ME by @just-add-butter​

Spoils of War by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

“If I go with you as a spoil of this pointless war, will you leave?” Bruce stands his ground, terrified and shaking, but he keeps eye contact with the warlord.

“Excuse me?” Kal must be hearing things.

“If I go with you, if I serve you, will you let my people live? Will you let my brother live?”

This is not finished buuuut it’s a Medieval AU. I just need to get myself in the right mindset to read an unfinished fic but will get to it! love what llittlechinesedoll writes.

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

FICLETS 

This section was accidental. I like my fics long and rarely read ficlets but here are a few that came across my way when I forgot to set word count filters.

Snapping the Chats by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

G - 2,278

Clark tries to use the Snapchat filters on Bruce.

General Check-up by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

T - 906

One where Brucie is getting a check-up from Thomas Elliot and he touches Bruce more cause Clark is obviously jealous

Subway Providence by the butler @the-butler-fanstuff

G - 400

A short drabble about art I did of Clark and Bruce waiting for the train on a subway platform.

So my first list was me coming across and realizing I love this kind of AUs and this second list is me carefully looking for them! Even tho my 1st list has some of my favorites, I hold this one closer to my heart. Hope you Enjoy it. 

Also if you know of any that I haven’t included on these lists, please I beg you send them my way <3 

[andrei-svech]

I teach Kindergarten. Every day, 18 babies come into my classroom in the morning, and leave my classroom in the afternoon. Hundreds of thousands of teachers do the same every day. And I’m sure, like me, sometimes they worry their babies may come into their classroom in the morning, but not leave their classroom in the afternoon. Especially on a day like today.

Often we don’t allow ourselves to go a place so dark and desperate in our minds that we can comprehend someone walking into an elementary school with a gun and murdering innocent babies. But that’s what happened today in Texas. It’s happened before, most notably in Newtown, Connecticut. It could happen in my school. It could happen anywhere.

When we have active shooter drills, I have to teach my students to squat instead of fully sit, incase they need to run. Our staff went through a course where we learned how to tie shut our classroom doors because they open out and not in. We learned to only allow a gap wide enough for a shooter’s arm to get in, and have our “strongest” students throw common classroom items at the shooter to hopefully dislodge a weapon. We learned we could use anything, even as simple as a tampon, to plug a bullet wound so one of our five-year-olds doesn’t bleed out on our classroom floor. We scoped out our rooms to determine the best places to hide our innocent babies.

I’m tired. I’m grieving the loss of innocent children’s lives, of innocent teachers lives, teachers just trying to do the same job I do every day. But most importantly, I’m angry. Because never in my life did I think we would see so many of these mass casualty events, shootings involving YOUNG CHILDREN, and still not do a damn thing about it. I can’t wait to march in the streets for my students’ right to safety. I can’t wait to go in and hug my babies tomorrow. For the teachers who will never be able to hug 18 babies again.

[dysphxtric]

Mental Illness - My Mental Health Story

TW: Depression, Anxiety, Self harm, Suicide, Sexual Harassment

“You should smile more.”

“It could be worse.”

“Just don’t think about it.”

These were the phrases I heard throughout all of my elementary and high school years. There was never a time when my peers and teachers, would not mention some bizarre, ignorant statement revolving around mental health. Not to mention, my family also contributed heavily to the stigmatization of mental health issues. Essentially, my family approached the subject of mental health with extreme hesitation, they refused to talk about how it affects people of all age, gender, ethical background (etc.) Every time I would say “I’m feeling lost” my family would automatically dismiss my frantic worries and it was not any different when I went to school. My peers would continuously remind me that my pain was not valid and that I need to stop being so sensitive. My primary parental figures, my mother and brother did not have the adequate knowledge or tools to be able to hold space for me. I would frequently hear my mom say, “I could understand someone suffering from PTSD feeling upset or sad but you’re so young and healthy honey, you have nothing to worry about” or the old classic “Someone else has it worse than you”. Whether I was at home or at school, I heard the same ignorant statements spewing out from what felt like everyone. And I could never comprehend what was the point of these falsely “encouraging” statements and why profusely use them? These kinds of statements do not uplift, nor do they empower those struggling with mental health issues, if anything it makes it extremely debilitating when your emotions are not acknowledged nor validated. One cannot expect to simply brush away another person’s emotion, thought or feeling as though it means nothing.

With that being said, growing up, I lived in a dysfunctional household alongside my mother, my older brother, and my grandmother. My mother would always be juggling work, schooling, and her dating life. My brother was very reluctant about staying home so he would always vanish after school, hang out with friends, party hard and engage with various street substances. Now my grandmother? It was not long after she immigrated that she began to immerse herself within the Jehovah’s Witnesses ideology and “religiously” strayed away from us as my mother likes to say. My mother was never fond of religious practices that were not “orthodox”. My grandmother wanted to indoctrinate my mom, brother, and I into joining her religious little club but failed which resulted in countless fights, yelling matches, and multiple dents left in our walls. The back and forth with the yelling was what scared me most in my childhood even if it was over something as small as not closing the cabinet door. I think it was around this time period I experienced violence/ trauma at home and truth be told I was extremely stressed and anxious all the time as a kid. My mother would cover the punched indents by taking magazines and sticking pages onto the indent. Often times my stomach would turn as I looked at the pages covering the area where my brother punched the wall with brutal force. Moreover, I felt impending sadness because all I ever wanted was for everyone in my family to be able coexist and not argue. I was trying to keep the peace between everyone, yet I was always the one that got caught in the middle of everything whether I liked it or not. I would get blamed a lot for trying to mend things for everyone. Even though all I wanted was the best for all my family members.

Fast forward to my pre-teen/ teenage years. By this point, my brother and grandmother were no longer living under the same roof as my mother and I. My brother was living with his ex-girlfriend while working as a security guard meanwhile my grandmother was living in her own little subsidized apartment preaching the word of Jehovah. At that particular time, my mother and I lived in a marvellous urban semi-detached house in a peaceful neighbourhood. My mother’s boyfriend had moved in with us and for the most part I was really happy because at least it was not just me and her.

My mother’s boyfriend lived with us while I was going to school. He was a really nice, caring and warm-hearted individual although I could never understand why my mother argued with him so much. I once told him “You should propose to her, I can see you two together forever” to which he replied with a welcoming smile.

But eventually just like with all good things, there comes an end. The inevitable breakup my mom went through was very bitter and I had to be there for her. Afterall, I was technically the only child that was around to emotionally comfort her. Ironically, the breakup occurred during the time I was being bullied in school. And it was difficult to be fully present for my mother while dealing with a lot of negativity at school. I had been experiencing cyber bullying on MSN by a bunch of peers calling me “weird”, “ugly” and “different”. To make matters worse, the group of kids that bullied me online ended up following me everywhere I went for recess which posed as a big obstacle for my well being. I had to eat inside the portables when teachers weren’t around or inside the girl’s bathroom stall just to avoid being teased. I never felt like I had a safe space to myself where I could be vulnerable and open up. Not to mention, it was a difficult time and there was practically no one I could confide in. I didn’t have a social circle of supportive friends, after all I was an antisocial person. Fear washed over me as I worried about disclosing my unpleasant experience to my mother because she was already dealing with so much, the heartbreak, the bills, work problems (etc.), it was then and there that I decided to lie instead of telling the truth. Ultimately, lying became my cooping mechanism to deal with the ongoing pain.

I kept up the lying for a long time in order to make it seem like everything was okay. I lied to everyone from family members to school peers to the teaching staff to principals to counselors.

For the longest time, lying sheltered me from all sorts of unnecessary questions. No one could really tell whether I was truthful or disloyal because I was able to make it sound believable. When I was a teenager, I continued to go down the same destructive path by being dishonest with myself and others. Many times, the thought of suicide crossed my mind and when I started to think about it and plan/coordinate the intricate details it did not hit me that something was very wrong, and I needed urgent help. A big part of the problem was that I was so used to downplaying my pain, given my family circumstance and stigmatization I experienced growing up with. There is no denying that I would engage in negative self talk convincing myself that I deserved the pain and suffering for not being likeable enough or for not being smart enough.

Sometimes I think that is the thing… people do not understand that I lied because that was what I was required to do in order to survive my childhood. I, myself do not tolerate lying and I think it is a form of betrayal and if I were to be completely honest, I would have NEVER lied to my mom had it been safe for me to express myself authentically in my household.

I did not live in a household where it was safe to speak my mind freely and disagree with my mother. Disagreeing was always the last thing I wanted to do, disagreeing meant I got the belt, my devices would get confiscated or that I was going to get grounded. They say, “Honesty is the best policy” and I do not disagree however, it is not as black and white as one may think. In my situation, lying was not only an adaptive coping mechanism but it became a survival mechanism to keep me safe from harm/threat.

I did not have very much individuality growing up. I felt as though having an opinion of my own was bad. In order to perpetuate this fixated mindset that I had, my mother constantly deemed certain attributed behaviours or thoughts as “good” or “bad”. So, say you were upset about a recent breakup with your partner, my mother would scoff and say, “You know life isn’t just about love right?” and play it like it means nothing to the person affected by the situation.

The first time I ever felt depressed was when I was 13. At that age I did not understand why I was feeling what I was feeling. All I knew was that there was something wrong with me. It did not help when I was being picked on by my classmates telling me “Go die”, “You belong in a ditch ugly bitch.”

The moment when things started getting out of hand was when I was first started my Art and Family Studies class in the same semester. In both classes I was placed into groups amongst other students. In Family Studies I had to be in a collaborative group that would divide responsibilities and tasks accordingly. When it came to cooking, my group consisted of four snobby, rich yet immature peers who were unwilling to help and contribute in any shape or form, I had to become the bigger person and sure enough I took all the responsibilities on myself. Though, it was not a smart move. But I was super shy and felt anxious to do anything different least to say speak up and advocate for myself, so I did what I had to do which was prepare meals, clean, and wash the dishes. At the end of the day, none of my peers thanked me, the only thank you I got was getting groped while washing the dishes and getting laughed at.

After what happened I ran to my best friend in tears to tell her what happened just to find her say “It’s not that bad, you’ll be fine” I felt like my blood was going to boil and I was about to start fuming. I stood thinking “Huh, that is so weird, is this how you comfort a person after being sexually harassed?”

Not to sound all grim but that experience showed me that no one really cared about me. No one cared that I got groped or how I felt in that moment. Let alone not even my “best friend” who was supposed to fulfill her role and be there for me. All I wanted was comfort and to be heard out. I could not even tell my mother about this experience until I turned 21 because of how ashamed I felt carrying around that experience and not having the ability to open up and mourn what happened that day and to be able to heal that damaged part of myself. I carried that incident with me for 7 years in silence because I was scared of being honest.

That specific experience was very detrimental to my mental health. Everything began to spiral out of control, I sprawled into a dark depressive state. I began to have intense panic attacks, insomnia, forgetfulness (etc.) After a certain duration of time, I had thoughts of suicide lingering at the back of my head. I questioned my worth, my identity, my culture, my everything.

The bullying and name calling persisted and became so intense that I ended up missing weeks of school time. Some of the boys in my Art class found it funny to make fun of my last name and call me “Prostitute”.

One day in the early springtime, my Art teacher noticed the marks on my wrists as I was painting and had not said anything until I made it to my last period class. I was called down to the guidance counselors office and was interrogated with questions.

“It has come to our concern that one of the staff members noticed cuts on your arms.”

I sat in silence trying hard to contain my anxiety.

“Are you struggling with depression or low mood? Is everything okay at home?”

It came to the point when I got so tired of lying about my pain that I admitted “Yes, I am struggling, I need help”. I dived into the bullying occurrences, the cat calling, my low grades, my self-esteem, the groping, my home situation (etc). After that, I was told that my mother would have to be called down to the school for “safety” reasons even though my counselor promised not to disclose any personal information to my mother. My greatest fear was that I did not want my mom to know that something was wrong.

Of course, my mom came to my school. She was told everything that had happened. I met her at the counselor’s office just to find her wailing in distress “You are such an embarrassment” and “Your counselor told me what you did, how could you do this?”. When the counselor gave us resources for help, my mother grabbed the papers and shoved them into the trash, got up and yanked me out the office.

The next three days that followed, my mother withdrew into her room not saying a word to me. I felt really uneasy and upset. She had her right to be alone but locking herself away from me and avoiding communication altogether? Didn’t make much sense.

I felt extremely guilty for not opening up to my mother sooner. But instead of choosing to be compassionate and caring she chose to resort to anger. She furiously blamed me for being “quiet” and “not trustful” which all landed on my shoulders again. It was “my” fault I thought.

Bottling this up resulted in a full-blown mental breakdown. I could not focus or concentrate because of everything building up. It came to the point where my mom had to choose between living in a toxic community or starting fresh elsewhere.

And even though my mother kept subjecting me to her harmful stigmatizations, the transition from my old school to my new one helped me greatly. When we moved away, I gradually started to feel better emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Very quickly, I ended up adapting to my new high school where I finally made friends.

One thing I cannot deny is that there definitely was a silver lining to all of this. Although I went through severe bullying and torment at school and home, I managed to reclaim my power and through that I discovered my inner peace after being extracted from my toxic high school. The new school that I ended up attending completely changed me and inspired me to become a more authentic version of myself. It was almost as though I did a complete 180°

My new peers and teachers were enthusiastic, open-minded and caring. The new community I was surrounding myself in was a very positive one that broke down stigmas and encouraged deep understanding and acceptance. My mind was blown when I found that it was easier to conversate with girls and guys at my new school, I was gradually becoming confident and more vocal, and I liked the feeling of not hiding myself away from the world. It felt rejuvenating to finally be heard and seen by others.

Slowly but surely, I began to partake in various activities at my school. I joined the Poetry Club which I would have never considered joining had I stayed back in my old school due to fear of how I was perceived. Ultimately, I started caring and nurturing myself more. My new friends supported me, and teachers began to openly listen to my stories and encouraged me to write. When I started writing, I realized that I could use this medium to cope with my depression and anxiety. The acknowledgment made a major difference in my life like never before.

If it were not for the transition from my old high school, I would have not made progress in developing into the woman I am today. I know that I am not my pain, I am not my mistakes.

Do I still struggle and have bad days? Yes, of course. Just like any human being I have my days when I am not feeling the greatest however, I am more open to learning about how to engage with my mind, body and soul in order to soothe myself during turbulent times. I still have that inner critic however, I have been engaging with activities such as bike riding, painting, drawing, and reading to help occupy my mind which as a result has reduced the time that I spend ruminating. Occupying myself has worked magic, I am now able to reduce and control how much time I spend self-loathing, criticizing, and judging myself. Rather than judging every thought, I’ve learned to slow down and observe.

If you stuck along until the end of my story, I want to thank you for reading through my experience. My hope is that my story can shed some light on the myths and stigmas surrounding mental health, especially within the Eastern European community. I want you all to know that you are ALL valid and I wanted to be able to share my story so that my readers know that they are not alone.

[the-record]

The City of Romance

Summary: On Spencer’s mandatory leave, he plans a trip to Paris, France where he meets an unforgettable face.

A/N: I got this idea during my language class. Please excuse my terrible French, I am still learning. This might be 2 parts? Maybe 3? I’ll figure it out. Anyways if you have any ideas for this or other requests let me know! 

Italics: Translation French to English.

This is more of an introduction <3

Part 2, Part 3

Check out my masterlist here!

For as long as you remembered, you had stayed with your mom in France during summers and worked at her café. Specifically her café in Paris. It was a dream. She made lots of business and your family was already pretty well off. You met lots of people working this job, however one seemed to stick out to you.

“Bienvenue! Que puis-ie vous offrir aujourd’hui?”  “Welcome! What can I offer you today?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak French.” You smiled at the tall man in front of you. He was handsome and seemed kind but nervous.

“No worries. Welcome, what can I get you today?” He seemed relived at the fact you spoke English. You would’ve too. 

“Can I get a coffee, 2 boxes of macarons, and 3 chocolate croissants?” You smiled and typed in the order on the computer on the counter.

“Of course. Will that be all?” He smiled and nodded. “Great. Your total is 24.50.” He handed you the foreign currency and you started to make his coffee and box his treats. “Here you are. Have a great day...”

“Spencer. You too,” He looked at your name tag, “Y/N. I should be on my way, I have a flight. Bye!” You smiled and waved. 

The rest of the day you couldn’t get that boy out of your head. You were a little disappointed that he would have already left France but the thought of visiting your uncle made it better. You stayed with your mom in the summer and your dad the rest of the year. After he passed, your uncle had promised to take care of you while you were in America. You were a grown adult but that didn’t stop him. Even 3 weeks later, as you boarded the flight, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. What did he need 3 chocolate croissants for? You need the delectable treats you brought for your uncle. He was going to meet you at his work and asked you to bring something for him. You couldn’t bring something just for him though, so you brought something for all of his team. You had never met his team but that didn’t stop you. They were his family, so they would be yours too. 

He met you downstairs on the ground floor after you got through security.

“Bella!” You smiled and basically ran to hug him.

“Uncle David!” He squeezed you tight. 

“How was Paris? And your flight?” You giggled a little.

“It was beautiful as always. You have to come visit me and mom some time. My flight was weird. Not in a bad way, I just met someone I guess and, never mind. How are you?”

“I’m good. I think coming out of retirement was definitely a good idea.” You both talked all the way up and all the way to his office. 

“Oh, I totally forgot. I brought you guys some stuff from the café. Mom started working with a local bakery and their macarons are just perfect. And don’t even get me started on the croissants.” You pulled out the boxes from your bag and placed them on his desk.

“I know just the person who would love some of these. Come on, I will introduce you to her first.” You smiled and followed him to a dark room with a wall covered with monitors. 

“Wow.” In such a dark space sat a bright colored blonde. Her outfit had lots of fun colors and her hair was curled. Her makeup and earrings were fun and exciting. Everything about her radiated good energy.

“Rossi what’s- And who is this beauty next to you? Hoping she’s not wife number 4.” You laughed.

“This is my niece Y/N. Y/N this is Penelope Garcia our technical analyst.” You held out your hand.

“It’s great to meet you Penelope. I heard you like pastries?” You held out a box and her face lit up.

“I love them! Ok wow, these look amazing, where are they from?” Her smile was huge as she looked at the croissants.

“Actually they’re from Paris.” Her jaw dropped. “My mom owns a café and bakery in Paris France. I’m just here during the year for school.” She is still stunned.

“Well wow. I don’t know what else to say. Wait yes I do. Thank for these!” You smiled.

“Of course. If you ever need some just tell David and they will be sent to your front door.” She held her arms out for a hug which you gave her.

“Alright, well I am going to take Y/N to meet the rest of the team. Bye Garcia!” She waved as you two walked out.

“I like her. She’s very fun. Not boring like you.” You joked. You saw a group of people standing over by a counter and that’s when you saw him. The man from the café. “Long time no see.” He was a little confused when he heard you, but when he saw you he understood.

“Oh hey Y/N. What are you doing here?” 

“I’m just visiting my uncle. So this is where you were rushing off to then?”

“Yeah.” You saw a small smile creep on his face. It wasn’t a lot but you noticed it.

“Woah let’s slow down here pretty boy. Rossi, who is this?” You stared over at the man next to him. He was tall with a strong build and holding a cup of coffee.

“This is my niece Y/N. Y/N this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and I guess you already know Spencer.” You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” They all stared at you both positively bewildered. “Oh, uh he came by the café I work at. He got a bunch of macarons.” 

“Wait, you work where those came from?” The lady who was apparently known as Emily.

“Yeah, my mom owns it and I work there during the summer. Speaking of.” You pulled out a smaller box filled with cookies and macarons. “These are for you guys.

“Thank you gorgeous. I guess we may have to thank Spencer then for introducing us to these.” You giggled softly.

“I guess you will.” Your phone rang and you noticed the caller ID to be your mom. “Sorry. I have to answer this real quick.” You walked a few feet away before answering. “Salut maman!” “Hey mom!”

“Salut bebe! Avez-vous atterri?” “Hi baby! Have you landed?”

“Quais. Je parle en fait aux collegues de David. Puis-ie vous appeler un peu?” “Yeah. I’m actually talking to David’s colleagues. Can I call you in a bit?”

“Bien sûr. Je t'aime.” “Of course. I love you.”

“Je t'aime aussi. Au revoir.“ “I love you too. Bye.” You hung up the phone and headed back over to them.

“Well genius what did she say?” You laughed as you walked back.

“He wouldn’t know.” They all gave you an odd and ashamed look for asking him. 

“She’s right. I don’t know French.” 

“Spencer Reid. You have an eidetic memory and went to a new country and didn’t learn French?”

“Well I learned a little but I didn’t really need to learn any. A lot of the natives knew English.” You nodded.

“He’s right. And it was my mom, she was asking if I landed.” Suddenly another blonde woman popped over. JJ. You had met her before by accident. Last time you came to visit you had a late flight in and so when you came by David’s house he was having a dinner party but everyone had left except her. She wanted to get to know you and you got coffee. “JJ!” 

“Oh my goodness Y/N! What’re you doing here?” She pulled you into a quick hug.

“I’m staying with David now for school because of what happened.” She gave a sympathetic smile.

Your father had passed away from a house fire. He was a bit older and already had health issues so the smoke inhalation was too much and he sadly passed.

“That’s great. How’s school been going?”

“Pretty well. I take some extra courses during the summer so I am looking for a job currently because I have everything I need done.”

“What career are you going into?” Derek questioned.

“Teaching. Specifically elementary because I can’t stand teenagers. They do not hold back, and as great as some of them are, I want my kids to be able and come see there first or kindergarten teacher years from now. I think I may have found a school around here but they haven’t gotten back to me yet.” They all nodded. “Well I was going to get some coffee if anyone wants to come along.”

“Reid why don’t you go?” Derek was patting him on the break to try and convince him to.

“Uh sure. If that’s okay with you of course.” You smiled.

“Of course. Let’s go I guess.” You walked with Spencer out to your uncles car that he so kindly lent you for the time being. He kept your car at his mansion so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. “Where should we go? I don’t normally come down here with David so I don’t really know a ton.” You asked as you got into the drivers side.

“There’s a little coffee shop not to far from here.” He gave you the directions as you drove. When you got there you ordered a coffee and a sandwich. Truth be told you were starved.

“So what degrees do you have?” He sipped his coffee before answering.

“I have a PhD in math, physics, and engineering as well as 3 BAs.” You jaw was 6 feet under. You assumed he was smart but damn.

“Wow. That’s... Impressive.” You laughed softly.

“Yeah. What about you? You said you wanted to be a teacher.”

“I have a bachelors in elementary education and one in special education. That is more so I can be more inclusive in the classroom. Honestly it’s pretty smart to get one because all children learn in very different ways. Like me, I loved reading when I was a child but I learned better by listening and looking at pictures. Some children think noise is distracting or that bright fun colored pictures are so we have to think about all of them and not just the majority. So far I have found a lot of different teaching methods to cater to all students. It’s really interesting. Sorry I’m rambling aren’t I? I do that when I get excited.” He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. One time I told a detective that it’s safer to kiss instead of shake hands.”

“Ooh. Yikes. Don’t tell that to kids though, they will run around kissing each other and get some kind of disease I swear.” Conversation flowed easily between you both. You both took turns rambling while the other listened. It was comforting to have someone who actually listened and could understand you when you spoke a mile a minute. 

He couldn’t help but think the same. Most of his friends had teased him over his facts. You listened and asked questions. You didn’t cut him off or laugh. You were actually interested as was he when you spoke. You talked pretty fast but he managed to keep up. Before you realized it was no longer 1:30. It was 4:15. You had talked with him for hours and it only felt like minutes. You texted your uncle that you would just wait in the car for him but when Spencer got out you felt like you had to do it.

“Wait! Spencer!” He stopped and spun to see you running towards him. “Would you like to go out for dinner sometime? Maybe this weekend if you’re not on a case?” His smile was blinding.

“I love that.” You exchanged phone numbers.

“Perfect. Hopefully see you this weekend.” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before running back to the car. He felt weak in the knees and thought he might collapse right then and there. Luckily he kept himself up until he got to the office. He was so excited and while he may not be religious, he prayed there wouldn’t be a case.

[karasunology]

⸙ ˚₊ ➷ SUGAWARA KOUSHI & OIKAWA TOORU AS DADS HEADCANONS ! ❞

✎ . . . i'm happy that your requests are open ! and for dad headcanons?? i am right here to serve my braincells for you ma'am. what about dad! sugawara & kenma? thank you in advance 🤓😘

❝ ― submitted by @ nonnie <3 ❞

✎ . . . will you please write about oikawa, bokuto, and sugawara as dads?? :>

❝ ― submitted by @ nonnie <3 ❞

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ sugawara koushi & oikawa tooru <3

[ trigger warnings ━ slight manga spoilers !! ]

✎ . . . DAD HEADCANONS.

[ BOKUTO KOUTARO VERSION. ] [ MIYA ATSUMU VERSION. ]

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . reposted because tumblr took it off?? ugh n e ways happy birthday again to my boy sugawara😔✋

SUGAWARA KOUSHI.

➜ before the arrival of your daughter, mans was totally cool about it; also ecstatic to say the least, he wanted to have a family for you for a long, long time, and when he finally has the chance to start it with you ─ he couldn't help but cry and be so soft on the spot with just the thought of it

➜ but he also couldn't help but be doubtful, doubtful of himself ─ will be a good enough father? will he be able to teach his daughter the important virtues in life? will his daughter even love him?

➜ but in the midst of those thoughts were you, reassuring him multiple times, that, if there was any man that you could think of, of being the father of your children ─ that man would be him, and only him

➜ ngl right now, mans wanted to give you another one after you said that 💀

➜ and when your first child was delivered, he was so encouraging and supportive of you, would whisper reassurance and words of affermations saying how great you were, how he was so blessed for having you.

➜ remember those doubts he had? all those thoughts fully dissapeared when your baby wrapped her fingers around his thumb for the first time, and suga couldn't help but cry ─ from joy? definitely, from satisfaction that you guys created this angel? of course. and relief? yeah, probably.

➜ sugawara doesn't want to spoil your daughter since he wants your daughter to know the importance of money and doesn't want her to end up being a brat

➜ but sometimes ,,, he couldn't just help it okay? ☹

➜ in the first months of parenting with sugawara, he was anything but the perfect dad but you could really see the parental instincts in him

“ kohana, come to daddy ” your husband, koushi, stretched his arms towards your daughter of five years; kneeling on the floor as you sat across from him, kneeling as well.

➜ as your daughter slowly waddled over to sugawara with a blank yet adorable chubby face, sugawara was overjoyed, to say the least.

“ yes waddle over to daddy ─ ”

➜ well, until your daughter cheekily ran across the opposite side, to you. as if flowers of many kinds surrounded her, she glided onto your surprised arms as you instinctively open tour arms out for her, a shocked laugh was heard from you.

➜ 💀💀💀

➜ your husband's jaw DROPPED Y'ALL😭✋ LET ME JUST AHHH

➜ kohana definitely got her wittiness and cheekiness from her koushi, and maybe some from you as well.

➜ sugawara let out an offended scoff as he got up so fast to chase your daughter around the house, as your daughter shrieked in fear and excitement as she waddled all over the place

➜ ugh IM SO SOFT RN, NO ONE TOUCHHHH MEEEE😡

➜ and when kohana was out with her with her aunty kiyoko and uncles daichi and asahi, sugawara was feeling a bit ,,, spicy that night that hey, why not create another one with you👉👈

➜ let's just say, while your daughter was eating caramel apples with her aunt & uncles, you were getting dic ked down by sugawara phew chile

➜ and after a few months, your son, shin was born & damn did sugawara love him

➜ unlike your daughter, your son is such a sweetie uGHHHH

➜ and loved his dad so much, is the calm and collected one while he had your hair and suga's eyes

➜ while the squad™ ; daichi, kiyoko & asahi would come to your house with every chance they get just to see your little ones and maybe even bring theirs as a playdate for shin & kohana

➜ ugh next gen typa thingz💅

➜ would play volleyball with them, but with a softer one that's a bit more kid-friendly

➜ being almost total opposites, shin and kohana would often bicker, kohana being the one to provock the fight and shin just straight up spitting facts, 6/10 of the time would win over his older sister

➜ periodt

➜ and if fights would get too much, sugawara would bONKK💥🔨 your children ( like those times where suga just fu cking bOnKs his teammates. )

➜ yeah that

➜ mans rarely gets mad and phew ,, if he ever does i just have nothin, NOTHIN to say😶

“ i HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE YELLED AT A GIRL LIKE THIS, WHEN MY MOTHER YELLS LIKE THIS IT'S BECAUSE SHE LOVES ME. ”

➜ he'll never be angry at them for too long though

➜ but mostly, he'll just be disappointed rather than mad

➜ and honestly that hurts more

➜ since sugawara is an elementary school teacher, he'd often tell stories about your guys' children with his students

➜ like THAT ONE TEACHER THAT JUST TALKS ABOUT THEIR LIVES AND FORGETS ABOUT CLASS

➜ UGH WE STANNNN

➜ it became an actual thing with his students that they would every now and then ask about them

➜ would have such a strong foundation built from trust, respect and just love with his children

➜ honestly you'd fallen all over again with him BECAUSE HE'S SO UGSHHSHSH

➜ HUSBAND MATERIAL

➜ SANAOL LIKE CAN'T RELATE LMAO

➜ baking !!

➜ this is one of suga's past times, and even before you guys were even married, y'all would have at-home dates and just bake

➜ and it just gradually became a thing with your children every time anyone just wants to bake something.

➜ and most of the time would end up messing up the kitchen and covered in flour

➜ 11/10 dad, may not be the most perfect dad but your kids could never ask for anyone else but him.

OIKAWA TOORU.

➜ it started off as a joke, he couldn't really remember when it all started but he would always say that you would be such a good mother whenever you would take care of him when he's injured himself or just scold him whenever he keeps over working himself

➜ but after a few years and oikawa would never have thought that he wanted to actually have a child or two with you, it started off when he would spend a few hours until pass midnight to watch cute baby videos

➜ like why was he there?? HE WAS JUST WATCHING BUZZFEED UNSOLVED A FEW MINUTES AGO LMAO WHAT

➜ and his eyes would linger onto your sleeping figure ontop of his body, face nuzzled as he could feel your nose tickle his torso.

➜ he couldn't help but play along with the thoughts of having a child with you ─ to start a family with you.

➜ you guys were already living together at argentina, and you've support him through and through with everything he has pursued in his life, and what else was stopping him from starting a family with you?

➜ yes, his schedule may be a bit busy but he had always given more than enough time to you, what hurt may it cause if he had another person to dedicate his attention as well? someone that's the perfect mixture of the love of his life and himself.

➜ and when oikawa has already set something on his mind ─ mans would always get what he wants

➜ if i were you, i'd give him anything he wants ngl

➜ just saying y'all😳✋

➜ it didn't take him a hot second to make you agree to it, and before he knew it he fell in love all over again on the bundle of joy he held on his hands

➜ would pepper you with kisses even if you were tired from giving birth, saying how proud he was of you and how beautiful the child you both created

➜ like duh, it was yours and tooru's child, your guys' baby will be a HEARTBREAKER WITH THOSE LOOKS😡

“ tooru !! ” you exclaimed as you saw your husband hold out a strawberry lollipop to your daughter while holding her with his other arm, as your daughter was ready to bite it ─ MANS REALLY SAID NO❌ RIGHTS✅😤 AND PULLED IT AWAY WHILE LAUGHING BEFORE PUTTING IT IN HIS MOUTH

➜ i'm so sorry i just ─

➜ while your daughter LOOKED SO OFFENDED WHEN SHE STARED SO HARD AT HIM LIKE

➜ THIS BITCH REALLY HAD IT COMING FOR HIM

➜ before your daughter just straight up cried right then and there while tooru's eyes widdened and tried apologizing to his daughter

“ aiko baby i'm so sorry ─  ” until your daughter slapped the lollipop from his mouth

➜ while oikawa just had that blank stare

➜ while you're trying not laugh so much because you KNOW his ego was shattered as she held her arms out for you, making grabby hands until you took her off from her father's hold

➜ oikawa : i hate it here😙😍💅

➜ aiko : it's what he deserves :)

➜ but when your daughter grew up, she ADORED HER FATHER, she would be the first to to the door whenever her father comes back from tournaments, your two younger sons, akiro and haruki would follower right after her chasing each other out

➜ oikawa still dresses her up even if she wasn't a seven year old anymore

➜ aiko is a daddy's girl and that's on periodt😡💅

➜ while aiko had tooru's playful and big dumb b energy, and your your hair and his eyes

➜ your oldest son, akiro, got your personality, and eyes but his father's hair

➜ and your youngest son, haruki, has both your eyes and hair and is a mix of yours and tooru's personality

➜ and it wasn't only aiko which held her father at such a good light that if she told him that ─ mans will be over the moon

➜ but also your two sons which found themselves loving and dedicating their love towards volleyball just like their father

➜ watching his games is a must !!

➜ his ego would not only be ASTRONOMICAL

➜ and just the overall overwhelming motivation had him serving 4 service aces in a row on periodttt

➜ your three kids would fight over who could scream the loudest in the stands for their father

➜ when he's away and your children would have those missing him hours™😔✋ oikawa would always try and contact you guys three times a day and everynight he'd be telling you guys how practice was and would also ask you guys how your days was.

➜ would teach his kids to FLIRT LMAO💀

➜ but will never fail teaching them that they should treat woman with RESPEKT ( and just overall everyone?? not just of their gender it's just because of idk??MANNERS ? )

➜ oikawa : *drinks his respect wamen juice.*

➜ ohoho but if his daughter ever starts having boy crushes MANS WOULD BE ALL POUTY

“ but loovveee ,, ” tooru drags out

“ our daughter is starting to date, what happened to marrying daddy one day? ”

“ tooru we're already married. ”

➜ you're tHIS👌 CLOSE TO DIVORCING HIS ASS

➜ you : i should have gone for the best friend instead

➜ IM JOKING YOU LOVE HIM A LOT

➜ beach volleyball !!

➜ after seeing how good beach volleyball taught hinata, giving him advantages in the indoor court, he wanted his child to as well

➜ or normal backyard volleyball will do

➜ just like with his teammates, oikawa is able to bring out the best in your children

➜ just a 11/10 dad, he may not always be with you guys because of volleyball but he'd always make time for you guys and would never neglect and forsake you guys

[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each! 

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together. 

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”. 

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships. 

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on. 

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are. 

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls. 

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM. 

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not. 

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability. 

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits. 

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day. 

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room. 

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing. 

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward. 

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite? 

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine. 

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont. 

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers. 

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it. 

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job. 

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails. 

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy. 

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of. 

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Any tips got people starting their creative writing degree in September? Xxx

oh this is a great question!! sometimes I forget I will literally be an upper year next year :) how did this happen :) still feel like I’m in grade 9 :) lol! but I do have tips!

1. Trust in the process

Okay, this sounds a little gimmicky, but what I mean is, let things happen the way they’re going to happen. I was extremely prepared when I entered first year, and even more prepared for second year, and I’m not saying this is a bad thing--in fact, I recommend having something small (even an idea) at the ready, just in case of emergency writer’s block, time constraints, etc, but I’d love to go back in time and tell myself to chill! I wanted so badly to experience the idea of the Ideal Writing Degree Experience, and so kind of missed out on the actual (great) experience I had in front of me! so let it happen! Take creative risks! stray from your plan if your gut is telling you to!

2. Get involved

In first year, I found it SO helpful to get involved in writer events, or clubs on my campus. I joined my department’s lit journal (which I shall be managing in the fall!) as an intern, and made sure to attend most, if not all the writing events they had on campus, including general fine arts mixers. Though I am a super introverted person, it was actually super fun to make connections, and even so, just make memories of faces that I could later recognize on campus. This is also super helpful for getting to know people in your program! On orientation day, I really tried to huddle with some other Writing undergrads, and that was super fun because we just chatted about our writing backgrounds, etc! If you’re anxious like me, coming up with literal talking points could be helpful the night before, kind of like an “About Me” refresh?? Like, oh my name is Rachel and I write literary fiction, also I am from Toronto, would be what I would say in case someone asked (usually people were very excited to hear I was from out of province lol so this worked as a great talking point!). ALSO!! off campus events! go to readings! Readings are 100% more accessible to attend where I go to school versus where I live at home, and so I def took advantage of this by making sure to go out to multiple literary events! It’s nice to make connections, chat with the readers, or even other audience members! Usually people asked me if I was a student and what program I was in, etc, and because being a Writing major is kind of a Fun Thing To Be at a reading, this was always a great talking point!

3. Remember your writing degree is still work

I know a lot of creative degree pals give this advice to remind undergrads that their creative work for school is still work so they should sit down and do it rather than leaving it to the last minute, but I kind of like to flip this idea on its head by saying: it’s okay to prioritize your “non-academic” work versus your “traditionally academic” work! For example, I took many, many English classes this year, and put about 20x more of my time into those classes than my literal writing classes. I am a writing major?? lol! I could’ve gotten an English degree closer to home?? I did not come here for this?? I think it was easy for me to write off putting time into my writing classes because I was “good at that” and “needed to focus on my academic work” (whatever academic even means), but if you’re there for writing, don’t be afraid to actually... do your writing?? Fighting internalized stigma about my own degree is something I still work on! It’s still work! Which means it’s hard, and you should take breaks (and extensions if necessary/if you can) just like with any other work.

4. If you want to, prep a little

Like I mentioned above, this could be a helpful thing to do, though I do caution over preparation because that was me!! and I feel like one may learn more if they have more room to fail (which sometimes preparation reduces?) but this is also dependent on the type of person and student you are, so disregard if necessary! When I entered first year, I didn’t prep actual work, but made sure I knew what was expected of me so I could mentally prepare myself, haha. I knew there were 5 assignments for 5 different genres (because of COVID they actually axed 1 genre which I am GRATEFUL for rip playwriting), so I kept this in mind throughout the term. If I got an idea for a poem but knew we wouldn’t be doing poetry for the next term, I’d write the poem in advance, or write down the idea. A little bit of prep can help alleviate stress especially if you’re transitioning out of high school, but I do tend to overdo it!

5. SUBMIT your work!!!

This is also totally okay NOT to do if you don’t want to publish your work, but if you are interested in curating a portfolio, it doesn’t hurt to start submitting your work early to literary magazines! I know some people are too nervous to send out their work in first year, but if you’re comfortable with it and want to, go for it! I submitted my work for the first time in first year, and got 2 stories published. If you want to be published, you don’t have to wait for upper years to put your work out there! If you have a piece you like, send it out! This also includes on-campus writing contests if your school runs these. I entered one not thinking anything of it and won first place (HOW), and these experiences were fantastic in shaping my experience in the program and also showing me submitting your work is not so scary!

6. Talk to your profs and TAs

Y’ALL I did not realize how much I talk to my profs and TAs and how much the pandemic took that away from me! It’s so critical to form relationships with the people who are teaching you, not only because they’ll help you to shape your work, but also because they’re a great start to networking! In first year, I sat down with my TAs or prof for literally every single piece I wrote, and the amount I learned is astronomical. I guess this depends on your program, but generally, writing programs are generative based rather than super lecture heavy, and you learn by doing hands-on work (workshops, etc). I learned so much (sometimes, even more) by talking to my teachers. They want to help you and it’s a great way to get to know them. I only attended office hours once in COVID (and it was Zoom office hours), and I certainly feel a difference in my experience. Reach out! When I took an intro journalism course, my prof line-edited every one of my pieces by hand, and while it was nerve-wracking because she is a fantastic writer and a tough critic (and literally right in front of me), it was so rewarding when she’d point out where I’d improved. She was also great at taking her time to explain how I could better my piece. You can’t do that if you’re sitting in a 200 person lecture, but you can if you take some time for a one on one! Highly recommend if you can (coming from someone with social anxiety)!

7. Make friends

I will admit it! I still have not done a great job at this lol. But if you can, try to reach out to your peers. You’re all there to learn, and it’s actually so fantastic to meet likeminded people! My peers are incredibly talented, smart individuals, and when we’re in person, I’d love to chat with them more! In first year, it can be scary to reach out, which is why I did this minimally, though I still made an attempt to jump out of my comfort zone whenever possible. It’s nice to recognize faces on campus and wave at people/have a short conversation before you head into class. Like I said, I interned for my on campus lit journal in first year, so I had to reach out a few times to my classmates to participate in events etc, so this was actually kind of easier for me since I had a lil ~motive that allowed me to muster the courage to chat with people! It could be as easy as joining in on a convo of a subject of interest (for example, a lot of people at my school especially in my program, love D&D. I have no idea what that is/how that works, but if I did, this might be something to talk about if you love it also)! Also - follow people on social media if you can find them, or start a group chat!

8. Don’t be afraid to speak up for your needs

This will be my last tip, and it might be the scariest tip of all, but if you are not happy with how something is going in your degree/classes, speak up about it! If something is not accessible to you, don’t be afraid to speak out about that. Idk if it’s just me, but I’ve been advocating for the betterment of my education since elementary school (why am I like this loooool), but especially in university, you’d be surprised by how receptive some people can be! Shoot your prof or TA an email if you have concerns, and see what they say. Rarely, they can be assholes, but most of the time, they’ll try to work with you to make your class experience better. This is why I also recommend filling out your course evals. Most great profs really want their students to enjoy their classes and succeed, so don’t be nervous to speak out about your needs if xyz isn’t being met.

hope that helps!

[that-was-anticlimactic]

tracks? please elaborate (if you want). i’m scared but.

also you’re an education major that’s so cool! my sisters an ed major and i’m considering it is there field in education you’re majoring/interested in?

yes hello! i love talking about this as it is one of the aspects of teaching that i am most passionate about! before i get into tracks, yes! i’m an english ed major and i’m still debating between teaching middle school or high school—i just know that elementary is too young for me (if you have any questions about being an ed major, you can always ask me! i’m finishing the second semester of my sophomore year so i’m not like the most knowledgeable ever, but i know this is what i want to do with my life!)

so i have very many issues with tracking, from personal experience, people i’ve talked to, my introduction to english ed class (and the textbook specifically had such good info about it which is where the majority of my info comes from), as well as some research i’ve done on my own. (links to some of these articles below!)

so, tracking is implemented in most schools and is the separation of kids as honor students (gifted kids, advanced kids), regular students (which is usually the lowest level), and intermediate kids (the in between). i’m not going to dive into special education here because that’s not the focus of my major and i haven’t done as much research there, but i know there are also issues with treating special ed kids as if they’re not as intelligent as other kids.

one major problem with tracking is that it begins rather early on in schooling. i remember taking tests in elementary schools that dictated whether we were honors or regular kids, and that translated to middle school. my middle school had an intermediate track as well, which is where i was: i wasn’t good enough at english to be in honors, wasn’t good enough at math or social studies or science to be in honors, but i was “too smart” to be in regular, so they threw me in the middle. and these were all dictated by tests we took in fifth grade. yeah. fifth grade.

i know this is pretty similar in others schools as well. sometimes its teachers who dictate what track students should be in, which is just as dangerous and subjective as basing tracks on elementary school tests. now, i do think that having advanced and regular and intermediate classes are important because some students do like the faster pace or the slower pace or need extra help, and that’s okay. what isn’t okay is choosing for the students, which is what seems to happen more often than not (again, in my experience).

imma talk about each track individually because i can and i’m going to start with the intermediate track because that’s where i was and i feel like no one ever talks about us (again... i’ve done research and there ain’t much about us in the research, but i guess we could say that’s because not all schools have intermediate tracks). so, intermediate track. kids in this track are the ones in the middle, think middle child. we are also the track that tends to be considered least important. why? because we don’t “need special attention” like the regular track “does”, and we aren’t smart enough to get special attention that the honors track gets. we’re just simply there. from my time in the middle track and talking to my friends (most of whom were honors so i felt stupid a lot), we did pretty much the same stuff they did, they just got to do it in more fun ways or with more praise.

kids in this track tend to want attention but don’t know how to get it because we aren’t important. i crave validation like it’s my everything: i genuinely need validation from teachers and parents and friends because i never got it in school. even if it’s something like “this wasn’t good and here’s why...” i need that because no one ever really cared enough to give it to me (except the teachers that went out of their way to be good teachers). we aren’t treated as special. these kids often tend to be left on their own more in a “you’re smart enough to do this on your own, right? you don’t need help because you aren’t regular kids” but we also aren’t honors or gifted, so we also don’t get the praise and the good attention either. think jan brady in the brady bunch. like... jan the only child vibes. oh and we can’t make decisions to save our life:) (could you tell that i’m an intermediate track kid by the way I got upset over no one talking about us? it’s the years of being ignored lol)

okay, let’s go to regular track. oh these poor kids. these kids are generally the ones people don’t want to teach because they’re “rowdy” and “don’t want to be there / don’t care”. again, think younger child. the only attention they get is negative attention. that’s because no one cares about them unless they act out and act like the regular kid stereotype, so that’s what they do because it’s been engrained in society that that’s what being a regular kid is. regular kids also tend to be in regular classes because of some sort of mental illness or neurodivergency. they can’t concentrate in class (and probably have adhd / add but the schools don’t talk about that), throw them in the regular classes.

story time: i worked at dairy queen for four years, and when i was back in summer 2020, i became friends with a lot of the freshmen and sophomores in high school who worked there because i treated them like they were worth something. i actually had a really sad talk with this one kid who we’ll call Aang (because i feel like Aang would be put in the lower track because he can’t sit still) where he told me he was stupid. obviously i told him he wasn’t, and he told me that his school treated him like he was stupid. when his school found out he had adhd, instead of trying to help him, they put him in special ed classes and he got bullied by the kids at school or being “so stupid he was put in special ed classes”. unlike intermediate kids, these kids crave positive affirmation, but they’re most likely willing to act out because they tend to believe bad attention is better than none. these are kids who may genuinely need help in classes but just get everything really dumbed down because of the stigma that they’re too stupid to be better.

honors / gifted kids is probably the most talked about of the tracks (especially on tumblr because i feel like most of y’all fit in there—no shame to y’all, you had it rough too), so this one may be a little shorter. these kids don’t know how to study because they tend to get coddled when they’re younger. this is not me saying anything bad about the kids specifically, but gifted kids tend to get intricate and great teaching when they’re young, and then kind of thrown into high school like “you’re so smart! we’ll teach you and give you fun projects and stuff, but also here’s a lot of work”. the get all of the benefits of being the best without genuine effort (of teachers / the school) to back it up because they’ve always been told or thrown into the category where “you’re so smart and talented!” that they didn’t have to do much because it was easy and when it gets harder, they didn’t have the study methods to back it up because they were “so smart they didn’t need to be taught” that they “didn’t need to learn how to study”. these kids also feel a lot of pressure and probably do not want to be perceived because all eyes seem to always be on them. they stress about grades a lot and think they’re dumb if they get a B (even tho B is a good grade, society has just trained everyone to think that you’re stupid if you don’t get A’s). again, think older child.

all three tracks have undiagnosed mental illnesses which is why i didn’t really talk about them much in there? i talked about the adhd one because i feel like people don’t know that and i wanted to share that story about *Aang* because it literally broke my heart. Aang told me that i was the first person who ever told him that he was smart and that his classes in school didn’t dictate his worth. people need to hear that more often. maybe i’m being bitter because i always see posts about the gifted kid track (which is important to learn about and understand because they felt such an unfair amount of pressure) but never anything about the intermediate track and that’s why i didn’t talk about mental illnesses, but each track--all three--can cause mental illness and mental illnesses can be the reason for placement.

now (sorry i know this is long, but these last two points are important), imma get into race. note that i am a white cis female (bi ace), so if anything here is wrong, please let me know. this is based on research and what i learned in my multicultural education class (taught by an asian man, not a white one don’t worry. God i loved Dr. Park, one of the best teachers i’ve had). a lot of poc, especially black and brown poc, tend to be placed in lower tracks because of the stereotypical “they’re rowdy” and “too distracting” arguments. i read many articles about how unfairly placed these kids were and how they were treated as stupid which in turn caused them to stop caring about how they acted because it’s what everyone expects. not all poc do this, this is me summarizing some studies i read.

another issue is with asian poc because they tend to be placed into higher tracks because, again, they’re expected to be. model minority. this puts unfair stress on asian poc who are expected to be the model minority and causes them to feel this constant need to prove themselves.

i don’t want to go into this too much more because i feel like it isn’t my voice on this issue that needs to be heard, but this is important to understand and i’m going to link some of the fantastic studies / articles / journals i was able to read and hang onto in multicultural ed:

Students' Multiple Worlds: Negotiating the Boundaries of Family, Peer, and School Cultures, Research in American Indian and Alaska Native Education: From Assimilation to SelfDetermination, Navajo Youth and Anglo Racism: Cultural Integrity and Resistance (another article by Donna Deyhle that i cannot find online but have a digital copy of and will email to anyone upon request), The Power of the Preps and a Cheerleading Equity Policy, (Un)Necessary Toughness?: Those "Loud BlackGirls" and Those "Quiet Asian Boys", Testing the 'Acting White' Hypothesis: A Popular Explanation Runs out of Empirical Steam, and lastly The Savage Inequalities of Public Education in New York (which i also cannot find online but have a digital copy of, lemme know if anyone wants it). these are all enlightening and sad readings but important nonetheless.

the last thing imma talk about (and yes, i know, this is very long... i feel passionately about this) is the good old topic of mental health / neurodivergence and test taking:D so, i have tourette’s syndrome, anxiety, and would very much like to get tested for adhd, so i do have more experience with this topic. the testing for what track students go in is so unfair, especially for neurodivergent kids. there are so many different ways these tests hinder students. you cannot accurately test people’s intelligence! especially from a young age and hold them to that for most of their life. some students need time extensions, need accommodations that a lot of schools don’t supply.

like i said: i have tourette’s and i was hindered in test taking because i couldn’t stop moving and then i would realize how no one else is moving so i shouldn’t have to move either so why can’t i stop moving what am i doing wrong and then ten minutes have flown by and i got nothing done. there were times when i would focus so hard on suppressing that i didn’t concentrate. flu season is the worst because i have a verbal tic dictated by premonitory urge where i have the physical need to sniff when i consciously hear someone else do it. i almost failed a test once because of this. students with dyslexia and dysgraphia are hindered because it can take them longer to read or figure out the numbers. students with anxiety overexert themselves and stress themselves out so badly that they can do worse. even people with chronic pain can be hindered due to the chairs or the way they have to sit. these tests don’t tell the school crap.

so many factors go into these tests and requirements for what track someone is in. this is why i feel it needs to be the student’s choice as to what classes they take. someone with dyslexia might want to be in regular english but might want to be in honors math because they’re really good at math, but can’t because of tracks sometimes. and this issue is huge in middle school where, in my experience, we didn’t have a choice. in high school, we had more of a choice, but by then these tracks are so engrained in us that we tend to continue with where we’re placed.

i like to think i’m good at english, i’m literally in school to be an english teacher. but in middle school, i was in the intermediate track. high school didn’t have intermediate english classes, so i assumed i wasn’t smart enough / didn’t deserve to be in honors and did regular english for two years until my friends convinced me to take honors, but at that point someone told me to take ap, so i jumped from intermediate to regular to ap classes. it was a rough transition. english comes naturally to me, but switching tracks was hard. this happens to so many kids who feel like they don’t have a choice, even if they do. there are so many kids who took the wrong classes because of the stupid test.

this is uhh really long. idk if anyone will read this far, but i care about this so much. each track, all three of them, deserves better. i’ll leave y’all with this: do not let the forced competition and hierarchy of tracks impact the way you think. you are not stupid and you are not dumb, you don’t need to try and feel worth attention because you are, try not to be bitter / jealous about people in other tracks because they did nothing wrong (unless they’re genuinely a jerk to you, then be bitter), it’s the system you need to be bitter with and your experience is just as valid, you deserve a break and don’t push yourself too hard, you don’t need to uphold any standards other than human decency.

okay yeah this got out of hand... hope this helps iuyfgyhuiuyguiohug

[sepublic]

How Tracks are decided

           What’s interesting is that when it comes to Witchling students of a certain young age –I’ll say around Elementary- their uniforms’ sleeves… Don’t have any colors!

          And it’s not the blank, default white that Luz starts off with, meant to be finalized with actual color; Nor is it the same gray as the Detention Track, either! These students’ sleeves are the same shade as their uniforms… And, given how young kids around elementary are…

           If I had to guess- Witches in Elementary don’t have Tracks. Instead, they just learn all subjects at once, but in a very simplified fashion that provides a broad look over the entirety of magic, rather than anything too specific; So, just like Elementary in real life! And it makes sense… It’s still messed up that the Coven System expects teenagers to figure out what they’ll do for the rest of their lives, but whoever designed it had enough sense to at least understand that for Elementary kids… They’re just too young to know that sort of thing. Even for those who look after them, those kids are too young and formative to display any ‘Track’ they could fit into!

           So this paints a picture, where Witches start off in Magic Elementary at a young age, as they’re normally supposed to; Just like in real life! They get taught the most basic skills and subjects, learning about the nine covens, how life works, who Belos is, etc. Somewhere along the way, they do activities that serve the purpose of not only testing a kid’s abilities, but also revealing them to their teachers- Teachers are expected to keep track of what things a kid is good at, their personal strengths and weaknesses, etc. Perhaps one day, a class is given the chance to make very rudimentary potions; And then the next day, they work on building stuff together.

           Either way, the school keeps track of a kid’s grades on certain assignments, with those assignments fitted into various clusters related to the traits most associated with a certain track. When it comes time for a child to choose their Track, I can see their past teachers and principal having a meeting with the parents; Showing off the portfolio of the kid’s skills, talents, and interests, before making suggestions as to what Track they should join.

           Like in real life, I can see parents having the final say in things… Which can lead to situations where a student is placed into a Track they may not be suited for, because the parents think it’s ‘better’ for them, I.E. Willow. Either way, the purpose of Elementary isn’t just to teach Witches basic stuff at a young age; I can see it being a means of analyzing and deducing what Track they’ll best fit into, by watching them function naturally over an extended period of time; Much more reliable than a single test that takes place over the span of a day!

           Things like behavior, personality, interests, skills, grades- All of these could contribute to a ‘point’ system, like a personalisy test that spans across one’s earliest, formative years. It’d be a clever way of not only preparing kids for the Coven System, but also helping them make the decision they need to.

           And obviously, this still isn’t perfect because it’s a facet of the Coven System… It’s the whole system that needs to be arranged, after all! But it does paint a picture of kids unintentionally showing off their talents and skills for certain Tracks, with teachers keeping in mind what a student is best suited for, so they can ensure that only the best for a Track enrolls in it; That way, a Witch usually can’t just choose whatever Track they want, without regards to what their skillset lies in!

           Of course, Luz is a major exception to this as she always is; She never got to go to Magic School at a young age, so there’s no ‘data’ or portfolio to look off of. Bump has no idea what Luz is good at, or what her past grades and skills are; So instead, he just lets Luz choose, and takes her word for it on what Track she thinks is best for her!

           (Hint: It’s none of them!)

           …Mind you, none of this has been actually confirmed within the show. But I think it makes sense and is a natural conclusion based on what we’ve seen, and the Coven System’s parallels to the American Education system in particular. It implies that even in Elementary, some Witches are aware of their teachers watching their every move, trying to figure out which Track to place them into.

          Thus, while some kids may have the benefit of ignorance, others –either because their parents made it clear what they wanted, or just by observation- will realize that even in Elementary, they’re STILL expected to make a ‘choice’ about the rest of their life. And, that’s pretty messed up. Just like in real life, I can see parents trying to wean their kid into certain hobbies and interests, and getting them to study for tests on certain projects –while sabotaging other assignments related to a different Track- all for the express purpose of molding their child into the ‘ideal’ Witch that they want, with the career expected of them.

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 10

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordham. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9

A/N: Thanks to official Sonny Carisi historian @cycat4077​ for screaming with me and sending me the relevant episodes. 

December 2015

“Tor, hurry! We gotta get to ma’s for mass.”

“I’m hurrying,” she said from her place on the couch, carefully buckling the strap of her mary jane. “Dom, we’ve got ten more minutes.”

“I just don’t want to be late. Everybody’ll be together this year. And Bella’s bringing the baby. They’ll all be there.”

“And look, I’m ready,” she smiled, kissing him softly when she stood. He wrapped around her waist, humming. Christmas had always been his favorite holiday, but it wasn’t quite the same without her. It had always been him and Victoria chasing the nieces and nephews around the house. He’d held Mia through each of the masses she was a baby for, and he was looking forward to holding Alma and Lucy through their first services. Alma was Bella’s girl, three months old now. Lucy was Gina’s and eleven months old. He’d been waiting patiently to spend more time with them, and now he got to. And he got to see them with Victoria by his side. 

Between therapy and the eight months that had elapsed, they were doing exceptionally well again. She’d known he was more than capable of being great, but it was nice to be back to where they’d been before. They’d be together on Christmas morning, and that had a new meaning to him now. He’d woken up alone the last two. As they drove to Staten Island, she laced their fingers and watched him drive, and she was rewarded at a light by a broad grin.

“What?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I just remember I get to be married to you. It makes me happy.”

“Stop it,” he laughed, cheeks going red as he looked back at the road. They were nearing his mom’s house. Her mom was somewhere in Europe for Christmas this year, so they’d be spending the night in that house, and he expected either one or two of his sisters and their husbands or the nieces would be joining them for the sake of space. He parked in the driveway, grabbing the duffel bag and dumping it in the living room of Victoria’s mom’s place before they went to his ma’s porch. They’d seen her plenty of times since Bella’s wedding, but Victoria still got nervous. Sonny had changed, and his mother didn’t like the way he stood up to her more and felt it was Victoria’s fault. She took it easily, thankful Ma didn’t give her a harder time.

“Sonny,” Bella squealed when she answered the door. “And Tori! We get you on Christmas again!”

“I know,” she laughed, hugging her close. “Where’s Alma?”

Bella rolled her eyes, leading her to the living room. Within minutes, Sonny had Lucy on his lap, and Victoria had Alma laying against her chest. Since Alma had been born, the last hesitance to have a baby had left Sonny, but he was trying to figure out how to bring it up. Seeing her cradle the newest of their nieces woke that same urge, and he watched her with a soft smile when Lucy was distracted with the singing bear in her hand. He wanted to see her holding their baby. Lately, they’d been babysitting the four kids in their lives. On the weekends, they rotated between helping with Noah or Jesse or Alma or Lucy, whether it was meeting for a family lunch or watching them so parents could run errands. 

The carloads of Carisis settled in the pew at mass, and his sisters were delighted to let Aunt Tori and Uncle Sonny take them. It always made Victoria’s stomach do flips to see how easily he could calm a baby. When she held Lucy, she was old enough it to be entertained by a pen and paper from her bag. Alma required that careful bouncing he was so good at, his hand cradling the back of her head as he sang hymns. When he caught her eye, she got a broad smile and he mouthed Lucy’s happy, like there wasn’t a three month old clutching the sleeve of his blazer as she slept. And when they got home, he watched his sisters take their babies, tuck them in with help from their husbands. He got overwhelmingly jealous sometimes, feeling like it was time for him and Victoria. But he had to be patient.

“It was good being with everybody,” Victoria hummed, stretching as they walked to her mom’s place. He hated how her mother was always gone. It was always highlighted after holidays like this. Her dad had abandoned them, and then her mother moved to Staten Island and had enough money to not need to be around. Family trips were trips where she left Victoria in an apartment with a credit card. They only arrived and departed together. 

“It was,” he smiled, rubbing her back. “I liked getting to see the girls. I invited Rollins in case she and Jesse were on their own, but I think they had plans.”

“That woulda been a full house.”

“Yeah. Maybe next year we’ll have the newest baby.”

“That’s pretty soon, Sonny.” She was washing her face, grinning over her shoulder at him. “We ain’t been back together long.”

“But you’ll be such a good mama,” he murmured, long arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed a soft kiss to the crook of his neck.

“And you��ll be an amazing daddy, cher. But it’ll take time.”

“I just can’t wait. I think about it all the time.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe we can start trying,” he teased, tugging her against him.

“Not yet.”

“C’mon beautiful. Could have a baby conceived on Christmas. That’d make them due late summer. I’ll be done with school and the bar. All daddy time during paternity leave.”

“Dominick, stop,” she said firmly, hands resting on his chest before she pulled back. At first, talking about how much she wanted his kid, how much she thought about it, made her happy. She felt like they were on the same page. But then the idea of their own baby being here at the next Christmas made her panic.

She was curled in their bed, clinging to his pillow having not gotten to say more than hello or goodbye for weeks. 

She was standing outside the restaurant on her birthday realizing he forgot.

He was coming in after missing Valentine’s Dinner as though nothing had happened.

It was their baby’s birthday, and he wasn’t there.

She felt her eyes well up, hands curling into the soft material of his henley, and then there was Sonny now, cupping her jaw as tears started to fall. They hadn’t been having issues, but this was burrowing up over the last couple of months. The case he’d shadowed, the teacher catfish case, the reality TV family that missed the sexual abuse of two of their daughters. He’d come home after each a little more distant. But he’d come back to himself after a day or so. But what if there was a little one there? A daughter whose face Sonny could put on the pregnant girls, the students being abused by their coach, the boy raped, killed, and buried under concrete. 

“Talk to me, Tor,” he whispered, holding her shaking hands as he backed her to sit on the bed. Sonny kneeled, hand on her knees. “Hey, hey, look at me, Doll. I’m right here. It’s Dominick.”

“What if it happens again, Dom?” she choked out, twisting to wipe her eyes on her shoulder so she didn’t have to let go of him. “What if the cases get to you and you disappear? There’s so many with kids. High school, elementary school, younger? I know you’ve been having fun being Uncle Sonny with Lucy and Alma and Jesse, but if we have a kid, and you panic? Then I’m alone again, but I’m alone raising a baby. Dad left! And mom may as well have! We’re literally staying in her house without her, Dominick.

“What does that have to do with this?”

“You were the only person that never left me. And you may as well have. What if a baby makes you feel like you might taint them so bad you do?” Her voice was airy as she took a shaky breath, and Sonny scrubbed a hand over his jaw. 

“Baby, I wasn’t thinking about how you must be feeling. And I never thought about it in terms of your parents. But you gotta know I won’t. But also, I understand why you feel that way. What do I gotta do though? I’m trying so fuckin’ hard. This is all I want. And I know I fucked up, but what else can I do? I’m not your mom. And I’m not your dad. I’ll always come home, okay?” 

His voice sounded desperate, and she hated herself for not being able to move on. Then again, she’d only been actively thinking about it for a month, and now they were talking about it. That was progress. She didn’t let it simmer unsaid until it reached a boiling point so high she could only leave.

“I know. You’re not. But it scares me, having a baby after what happened.”

“I’ll never emotionally abandon you like that again. I never left physically, but it might’ve been meaner, what I did. But what can I do so we can move forward?”

“Dom, this sounds really weird, but I think it might be progress that this conversation is happening.”

“How is not wanting to have a baby progress?”

“Stop saying that. That’s not what I’m saying,” she whimpered, cupping his cheeks. “I want your baby. But I’m not thinking about it as a nebulous concept when we’re better. This is reality. And I’m scared about something you might do, and we’re discussing it.”

“It is. And in reality, I would quit the force, cancel the bar exam, and move to Michigan if it meant having a family with you. If the force gets in the way of me bein’ a good husband again, I’ll quit.”

“You wouldn’t be happy.”

“I’d have you and our baby.”

“So you’d become a teacher or a salesman?”

“I-I guess not?” he muttered. “But I’m going to make this work. I am.”

“Six more months, okay? It took eight for me to go from ‘a baby in ten years’ to ‘here’s the reality of how I feel about a baby in this exact moment.”

“We talk about this is therapy though? I didn’t know your parents still upset you like that. I wanna make sure I’m not being a dick or anything. I understand why you feel this way, doll. But we also can’t know the future.”

“I know, Dom. Just give me a few more months, okay?”

“Deal,” he whispered, kissing her gently. “Let’s sleep. They’ll be comin’ to get us early so we can do Christmas morning.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No, doll. I can’t undo what I did, but I’m mad at me, if I’m mad at any one. I hate knowing you have a reason to feel like this. You’re not irrational, even though I’m sure I’ve changed.”

“You’re going to be an amazing dad, Dom.”

“You will too, Tor.”