#chemistry students unite they can’t take us all

[idk6123]

The Perfect Student & The Delinquent (Mickey Milkovich X Male Reader)

Mickey never have been one for doing homework, or just doing anything school related at all. Some people call him stupid because of that, but he just doesn’t care. He knows how to make money and that is enough for him. He’s done with school, but school isn’t done with him. And this is school we’re talking about; they’re going to bother him about it by shoving the responsibility to someone else.

That’s when Y/N appears, one of the best students in the school. Mickey knew him. He’s a quiet kid. He didn’t find him annoying enough to beat him up, or rich enough to steal from. Thus, they never interact. However, that all starts one day, when the school hold Y/N responsible for getting Mickey’s grade up. Feeling screwed, he’s going to help Mickey without having much motivation.

“How the fuck should I suppose to know how algebra works!?”

“Maybe you know when you come to fucking class!”

“Maybe if you cut some class, you realize that’s the best way to not get your ass kicked!”

That’s when Y/N hold Mickey in a position that the punk can’t counterattack. Feeling his face against the floor, he looks at the side of eyes and look up to see Y/N, sitting on his body.

“You look like you want to fuck me.”

“Yeah, fuck you over if you don’t shut the fuck up and do your homework.”

To be honest, Mickey is quite surprised that Y/N isn’t the quiet kid he expected him to be. He thought the top student was some shy, timid guy that only wants to do homework, not a martial artist that has no time for bullshit.

“So, you want to lie down while I’m on top off you, or do you want to do something useful?”

Mickey scoffs. “Fine. Get your fat ass off me.”

“At least I got a nice ass.”

They sit down again at the couch and recontinue Mickey’s homework. As Y/N guides him, he notices how much Mickey is struggling with math, causing some frustration. Even after math, Mickey is struggling with almost every subject. English, chemistry, biology, you name it. Y/N bets the only class he can do is PE.

As Mickey continues to struggle on the task, Y/N can tell he’s going to burst out in anger anytime soon. “Let’s take a break.” Mickey looks back, staying quiet. “Got somethin’ to drink?”

“Beer is in the fridge.” Mickey answers. Y/N stands up and heads to the kitchen. “Grab one for me.”

Y/N does that, bringing back two beers. He hands one over to Mickey. After they pop off the caps, they both take a sip at the same time.

“Are you some masochist for doing this shit?”

“Nope. Just someone who hopes for a big job and get rich.” Y/N responds. “Get in a good college first though. You?”

“I just steal the money. We should stay in contact, just in case you get rich.”

Y/N chuckles. “Any chance you get any money from me if you’re either my husband or my sugar baby.”

“That’s a hard pass.”

For the rest of the day, after having their break, Y/N helped Mickey, tutoring him in about every subject. That being said, it doesn’t look bright.

-

It’s another day where Y/N helps Mickey. The straight A student made sure to reflect why Mickey isn’t doing well, not wanting to write it off with him just being dumb. Thus, after changing the homework just a bit, he manages to do something that may help Mickey.

“’In a week, your crew makes these many drug deals: 7, 5, 8, 6, 9, 4, 10. What's the median number of deals?’” This is the first question Mickey read, only thinking what happened to his homework. “What the hell is this?”

“I’m helping you. Now you can use math in your future business.” Y/N responds. “Now, try to figure it out.”

Mickey then looks back at the paper. For whatever reason, he appears he knows what he’s actually doing. He doesn’t look confused, instead he looks focused. “7 deals.”

“Right!” Y/N is happy Mickey finally got something right. “Now to the next.”

“’You got two weapons suppliers. One brings you 2x units and the other brings 3x units. If x is 5, how many total units you got?’” Mickey looks back at his tutor. “25 units.”

“Holy-” Y/N is surprised how well things are going. “Write down the solution.” Without any fuss, Mickey writes down the solution. Afterwards, he gives the paper back at Y/N. “Correct.”

Mickey smirks, grabbing the paper back. “And here people thought I was some dumbass.”

“Well, you proved them wrong.”

-

Now that every question is changed into a language into something Mickey comprehends, the speed of doing his homework changed from an entire day into 2 hours, with most of the time the questions correctly answered.

“’If you take a hit and your arm’s bleeding, which system in your body rushes to patch up the hole?’ The circulatory system.”

“’You got a new batch of goods, and you see the demand go up. If you usually move 50 units at $20 each, but now you can push 70 units at the same price, what’s the total revenue now?’ $1400.”

“If you're 'running' from the police, how do you say, 'we run' in Spanish?”

"Nosotros corremos"

Times passes quickly as Mickey completes his homework. After doing so, Y/N is wondering what kind of grade he gets. And it turns out he managed to get a…

“B+!”

Mickey looks surprised. “In total?”

“Yeah.” Y/N looks happy for his classmate. “You did great. Now you have to rely on regular questions, or you have to use your fantasy to turn it in something fun.”

“Do the second one.” Mickey answers. “To be honest, I’m surprised school can help me in my future.”

“The future full of crime.”

“Yep, and I give all the credit to you, not those assholes.” Mickey refers to the teachers without shame.

Y/N smirks. “They really are assholes. They black mailed me to tutor you, y’know?”

“They did?” Mickey is surprised, thinking it’s ridiculous. “Fucking bastards…” He then thought of something. “We should get revenge.”

“Whaddaya mean? You talking about a school shootin’ or somethin’?”

“No, just destroying the principal’s office. And for good sake, his car.”

Y/N thought about it, not declining the idea at first, causing Mickey to smile with glee. Feeling like he wants to bite back, the usually good student caves in. “Only after you ace your tests.”

Mickey offers a fist-Bumb, which Y/N accepts. “Deal.”

-

Y/N awaits outside of the classroom, wanting to see Mickey after finishing his last test. As Y/N daydream off, his eyes suddenly went wide awake when Mickey gets out of the classroom with a smirk on his face.

“And?”

“Not a problem.”

“Nice.” Y/N offers a high-five, which Mickey accepts.

“Now it’s for me to help your ass.” Mickey gestures his friend to follow him. They get to his locker, where Y/N sees multiple tools of destructions in the locker. “You’re backing down?”

Y/N grabs a hammer, checking it out. “Nah, they need to learn to not mess with me.”

Mickey looks proud. “Glad you’re not a pussy.”

After gathering their equipment, they get to the principal office. They see it’s empty, though locked. Using his lock-picks, Mickey opens the door, causing them to get access in the office. They look around, with Mickey looking back at his new delinquent friend.

“Want to do the first honour?”

Y/N holds the hammer tighter, with his eyes locking on the pc. With a heavy slam, the computer receives a massive hole, following up with another slam and another one. That’s when Y/N grabs what remained and throws it aside to stomp on it.

“There you go!” Mickey looks excited. He then gets to the desk, where he takes out all of the drawers to throw it away. “Let’s go wild!”

Chaos enfolds the entire room, as the two delinquents destroy the entire office. The shelves broken on the floor. All the files ruined and ripped apart. The chair being thorn into two. They even tagged the wall with a penis.

“You have a talent for making very gorgeous dicks.”

Mickey chuckles. “Naturally born talent.” He looks back at his friend. “And now we have made our territory.”

“Like a dog?”

“Yep.” Mickey hands move to his pants to unbuckle. He notices Y/N just standing. “You’re not joining?”

“I just think we should aim higher.”

“Like a shit?”

“No.” Y/N looks back at the desk. “Think anyone ever cummed on the desk?”

Mickey stops what he’s doing and looks back. “You want to fuck on the desk?”

“I don’t mean together.” Y/N clarifies himself, thinking Mickey is straight. “We could have turns jerking off.”

Mickey then just smirks. “Not the best time wise. It’s better we do it at once.”

“Huh?”

That’s when Mickey gets to Y/N to ambush him with a kiss, though surprised for a second, he quickly kisses back. The two guys quickly move to the table, where both guys begin undressing each other to take the ultimate insult.

-

“I think we’ve done enough orgies.”

“When is enough enough?” Mickey responds back.

They just stole the principle’s car and park it somewhere isolated, where Y/N and Mickey send another message from inside the car, multiple times.

Both guys are sitting in the front seat, where they chat as they’re covered in each other’s clothing.

“Well, I’m tired.”

“Of sex?”

“Yeah, l like it more dispersed.” Y/N grabs his boxers and put them on. “You’re one freaky shit to be able to have sex so many rounds.”

“Thanks.” Mickey merely responds. “There is more where that came from.”

Y/N hums. He grabs his t-shirt to put it on. As he does, he looks back at the guy next to him. “You’re staying naked?”

“I’m still up for one more round.”

“You really are a degenerate.” Y/N chuckles. “Well, the longer we stay here, the quicker the principle notices his car gone missing and the cops to find us.”

Mickey hums and think about it. “Right, I can’t really afford that.” That’s when he starts dressing up too.

“We can always do it another time.”

Mickey looks back to see a smirking man, giving him a smirk back. “I like the sound of that.”

-

“Got a B for math.” Mickey announces when Y/N walked in his house.

“Nice going.” Y/N looks proud. “And nice for me for being such a good and perfect teacher.”

“I wanna make a remark but consider the rest of my grades are all great, I let it pass.” Mickey goes to the fridge to grab a beer for him and Y/N. “Did you hear about principle shitface?”

Y/N smirks. “What about him?”

Mickey goes back to Y/N to hand over a beer. “Wasn’t too fond to discover cum on his desk, as well in his car.”

“Nice.” Y/N laughs. He put up his beer. “Fuck the principle!”

“Fuck the principle!”

Mickey and Y/N both cheer, celebrating their victorious, whether it’s from Mickey getting good grades, or Y/N standing up for himself, or their new find friendship that will turn into something more.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Masterpiece: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: While giving a lecture with Spencer and Rossi, a man approaches you with information regarding five missing people. Can you save them in time?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"Let us consider that we are all insane. It will explain us to each other; it will unriddle many riddles..." - Mark Twain

Assisting Spencer and Rossi in a lecture to college students seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that you're actually here, you can tell some of them don't want to be listening to this. There are others who are genuinely interested in all of this, and those are the ones you're talking to. These students have an interest in criminal justice, and in order to be accepted into certain fields of the FBI, they have to know what they're going to be signing up for.

"Most of us have done extensive post-graduate work in areas such as abnormal psychology and sociology as well as intensive study of relative casework and existing literature, but that's after selection to the unit," Spencer says.

"First you have to be an agent," Rossi says, "work in the field, and that's what we're here to talk about. For that, the academics are wide open. For everyone in this room, once you graduate and regardless of your course study, you are eligible to apply to the FBI."

The classroom doors open and an older man with white hair walks in. The dread you feel from him is enough to make you sway from shock. He doesn't even look at you as he sits in the back of the classroom to listen in on this. Something isn't right with this man, and Rossi sees your reaction to this.

He nudges you and you snap out of it enough to look at him. He asks you with his eyes if you're okay, and you give him one nod. He knows something is bothering you, but he'll ask you about it once the lecture is done.

"What did you study?" a student asks Rossi.

"Criminal Justice, but sports appreciation was all full up at my community college."

"I hold Doctorates in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering as well as BAs in psychology and sociology," Spencer smiles proudly.

"I have doctorates in Criminal Justice with a sole focus on profiling and one in Psychology," you state.

Everyone seems shocked about you two, and you think it's because of how you look. You and Spencer are very young so it's shocking to hear how many doctorates and BAs you two have gotten over the years.

"How old are you?" one student asks Spencer.

"Uh, I'm twenty-seven. Last month, I turned twenty-seven. I'm--I'm also completing an additional BA in philosophy. Which reminds me that I have a joke." Rossi looks at him in a panic because he doesn't want Spencer to embarrass himself, but Spencer dismisses him. "How many existentialists does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

No one answers the question which can only mean they aren't interested in it, but Spencer decides to tell it anyway.

"Two. One to change the light bulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness."

Not a single person laughs at his joke, but you can't help but giggle into your hand. Spencer is just too cute, and any kind of joke he makes is funny to you. Spencer looks at you and then around the room nervously.

"Um, an existentialist would--"

"Okay," Rossi cuts him off, "before he does his quantum physics knock-knock joke, do we have any other questions about opportunities in the FBI?"

"Did you ever shoot anybody?"

It's a good thing this lecture is only an hour long. College kids are easily entertained if it has to do with gore. At the end of the lecture, you, Rossi, and Spencer leave to head back to Quantico. The hallways fill with students trying to get to their next class, and you have to push past them to keep up with the group.

"You do know we want them to actually join the Bureau? We want these kids to think it's a cool place to work," Rossi says.

"I understand that, yeah."

Sometimes, things go over Spencer's head and it's the cutest thing ever.

"Existentialism?"

"That was a funny joke. What do you mean?"

"Yeah, to Sigmund Freud."

"I thought your joke was hilarious," you grin and kiss his cheek as you're walking. "I love all your jokes, and I love you."

"I tell them I shouldn't--they keep on sending me here. I don't know why," Spencer shrugs.

"Because you're young."

You walk towards the stairs to get to the first floor, but the same man you saw in the classroom joins your group. Your smile is lost, and you grab Rossi's arm to let him know something isn't right. Rossi sees how pale your face is, but he doesn't know why you're like this.

"Dr. Reid? Wouldn't they sit in the dark and hope that the bulb decided to light again?"

"Excuse me?"

"An existentialist would never change the bulb. He would allow the darkness to exist."

"Yeah, that's pretty good," Spencer chuckles.

"I'm Professor Paul Rothschild. It was a brilliant presentation. Brilliant. You're a remarkably effective recruitment tool. The FBI is very lucky to have you."

"Thank you for saying that."

You really want to get away from this man, and as much as you try to rush Rossi and Spencer out of there, he keeps up.

"May I show you something?"

"Of course."

Paul takes out a manilla folder and hands it to Spencer, and you tap Rossi's arm urgently. You open your mouth to say something, but no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to speak. Inside the folder are pictures of people in distress. Some of them are of women, some are of hands as if the person tried to cover up a camera, and others are of pure fear.

"I don't understand. What are these?"

"Seven homicide victims."

"Homicide?" Rossi asks and looks at you.

"Seven women. The bodies have never been found. Not a fingernail, not a hair fiber. Acid is a very tidy way of disposing of something."

"Acid? Are you saying that you killed these women?"

"There is still time to save the others, though. Five more. In a bit less than nine hours, five other people are going to be dead. Unless you can find a way to save them."

Of course, Rossi calls the local police to have this man arrested and brought back to Quantico for questioning. After the police are called, Rossi gets Hotch on the phone to let him know what is heading his way. You knew something was wrong with this man from the beginning, but you couldn't get the words out.

Paul cooperates with the police as they escort him back to your car. Students watch as you pass by, but Paul isn't paying them any mind. In fact, the only people he's interested in talking to are Spencer and Rossi. He has not looked your way or spoken a word to you. Interesting, huh?

"I knew I felt something wrong," you whisper to Spencer just as Rossi got Hotch on the phone.

"Hey, Dave."

"Reid, Y/N, and I were just approached by some guy here with photos that he claims are seven women he killed. These pictures have all been manipulated in some way that you can't really see what they are."

"Did he say he killed them?"

"Yeah, seven women so far. There are five more live victims somewhere that we can save in nine hours."

"Is this guy for real, Dave? Or is a confessor wannabe?"

"I don't think so, Hotch. I got a hit off him, and Y/N was tipped off the second he entered the classroom. I'm bringing him in."

"Okay, what can I do?"

"I'm sending shots of the photos to Garcia to start looking over. I'll see you in about forty-five minutes." Paul is placed into the back of the car you drove here in, and Rossi turns to you and Spencer with a serious look on his face. "Do not forget a word he says the rest of the time we have him."

"What is happening?"

"I'd like to know."

You reach for the back door, but Spencer stops you from getting in the back with Paul. You don't question it when he opens the passenger door for you, and you slide inside without a word. He gets into the back since he doesn't know what Paul is capable of.

"So, you said you're a professor at Strayer?" Spencer asks.

"No."

"You didn't?"

"No."

"I mean, you did introduce yourself as Professor Rothschild, right?"

"Your degree in philosophy surprises me, Dr. Reid. It doesn't fit with mathematics and engineering."

"I kind of like it because there's no right or wrong answers."

"Without right or wrong, how would we recognize perfection?"

"Is this fun for you?" Rossi asks as he drives back to Quantico.

You're staring at Paul to get a read on him, but it's kind of hard to. He knows how to hide himself very well.

"It's quite a bit more complicated than that."

"What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Rossi glares at him through the rearview mirror.

"I read your books, David. You're not of the intellectual capacity to grasp what's going on here."

"If you're trying to piss me off, it's not gonna work. If you killed seven women without leaving a trace of evidence, why turn yourself in?"

"Imagine what the world would have missed if Da Vinci never showed his work."

Rossi gets to Quantico, but they don't give him a warm welcome. The entire bullpen is on alert, and you look at your team as soon as you walk through the glass doors. There is a news report on the big TV that everyone is watching.

"Earlier this morning, police were contacted and informed that Kaylee Robinson, who ran a daycare center out of her home, had been abducted along with four children. When a parent arrived at 9:30 this morning to drop off her child, she discovered the door had been opened."

"What's going on?" you ask.

"He said there were five more victims we could save, and now five people are missing," Hotch states.

"Are those the five more?"

"Are you pissed off yet, David?" Paul smirks.

Rossi has Paul escorted to an empty interrogation room, and you follow loosely behind them. As Rossi and Derek get him set up, you and Spencer watch them from the window. Paul must know that someone is watching behind the glass, but his only focus is Rossi.

"It's not your fault, you know. Your IQ is your IQ. It's not education, David, it's genetics."

"What's this?" Rossi asks about Paul's necklace.

You lean closer to the window to get a better look, but your view isn't the best one.

"I need to explain what a pendant is?"

"What does it mean?"

"Mean? It's just something I found at a fair," Paul shrugs.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you. You have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your rights--"

"Genetics is the key to everything, David," Paul cuts Derek off. "If you're not born with the right--"

"Do you understand your rights?" Derek cuts him off.

"Perfectly. I can have a lawyer but no, thank you. Some games are just intended to be played by higher intellects."

"Harming a person weaker than you doesn't take any special ability."

"Neither does slamming your fist down on a table, but we all must do what we must do. Bring Dr. Reid back with you."

"I never have any normal fans," Spencer sighs.

"I'm your fan," you smile at him.

Spencer wraps an arm around your shoulders and kisses the side of your head. Derek and Rossi leave the room to let Paul stew for a while.

"This guy loves attention. He has a God complex. Sooner or later, he'll give up something important about Kaylee and the kids. Guys like him always do," Rossi says.

"Before he hurts them?"

"It's 1:45 pm. He said we had until 10:00 pm."

"We need a button to push."

"The seven original homicides could give us some leverage."

"He says we'll never find any evidence so he has nothing to worry about. He also made a point of saying there are no bodies and no physical evidence," you point out.

"We just have to show that a crime was committed. We can do that circumstantially."

"We need to identify the original seven women. Going back in there with names just might shake him up."

"How do we do that?" Spencer asks.

"Reverse profiling. We learn everything we can about him and his methods, and then profile it back to what kind of victim he would choose and from where."

This kind of case requires everyone to work together, so you all gather in the briefing room alone with Penelope to try and make sense of what is going on. As soon as she gets the pictures Rossi sent over, she gets to work trying to figure out who the women in the photographs are.

"I went through ViCAP. There are literally thousands of open missing women cases across the country."

"It's not the entire country, though. Kaylee was abducted at 9:30 this morning. He had time to take them somewhere, hide them, and make it to Fredericksburg two hours later. He'd need a place with a lot of privacy to hide five victims," Spencer says.

"He was late for the presentation," you say. "You know, it was more like two and a half hours after the abduction. He got there around noon, which puts him somewhere around that radius."

"Garcia, work up a map. We need the farthest point he could have taken Kaylee from Loretto and still gotten back to Fredericksburg by noon," Hotch says.

"It shouldn't be too hard."

"Alright, what do we know so far?" Rossi asks everyone. "He's obsessively neat and clean. He did research on Reid and me at least. He's abducted five people and then gets to a scheduled recruitment session at a specific time. That's extensive pre-planning."

"What my question is, why didn't he talk to me? He refused to even look my way much less acknowledge me. He was only focused on Rossi and Spencer."

"Maybe he's intimidated by women," Emily theorizes.

"Did you find anything in those pictures, Garcia?" Spencer asks.

"I can't even positively say they're dead."

"What about hair color?"

"All the ones that show hair, they appear to be brunettes. I'll start there. The only thing is that his prints didn't come up. He's not in any system. It's like he's a ghost."

"If he hasn't been fingerprinted, then he hasn't been arrested. Which also means he doesn't have a passport, driver's license, or been in the military."

"He's never been a teacher, either. You have to be fingerprinted to be a teacher," Spencer points out.

"So, he's a professor who doesn't teach? What kind of professor doesn't teach?"

"A researcher? Maybe someone on a grant. It would give him the time."

"There must be some sort of central grant database. I can't imagine the government just handing out money and not--" Penelope sees everyone staring at her, and she starts to type furiously. "I'll look into it."

"From past conversations, we know he's a narcissist and seemingly remorseless. We can eliminate a lot of these open missing persons cases if we could just figure out how he met them," you say.

"Jordan, contact the Loretto PD and get us an invitation to consult on the Kaylee Robinson case. Be nice to them. They don't have to let us. Then, you and Morgan go down there and find out what you can."

"Let's go."

Derek and Jordan leave the office to do what they're told while the rest of you stay put.

x

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[glass-rose-paperweight]

I just want to take a moment to talk about what the “gifted track” at my school was like. Because in a lot of ways, it was closer to the popular media depiction.

It started in 2nd grade. You had to take a special test to get in (a test I have 0 memory of taking). Once a week, you got to bus over to a different campus that was part of the school system. For a whole day, you got to be with a whole other teacher and do things completely outside of the school curriculum. I was learning about neurons and how the brain worked in the 2nd grade. We had entire units on the Titanic and Louis and Clark. There was a whole semester I think dedicated to invention and creation where they gave us a bunch of different challenges worth different amounts of points and we had to figure out how to complete them. In 6th grade, we had a unit on ASL and a (small) unit on paper airplanes.

The units and classes we fun. The whole point of it was to think outside the box and be creative. Perhaps surprisingly, those of us that were part of this program didn’t really get bullied for it (I was bullied pretty heavily throughout elementary school. Being a part of the program was never a reason for it). I loved the program. In hindsight, I really do think the test we had to take was an unintentional screener for neurodivergence.

It stopped in 6th grade because that was when the “advanced” classes started. And there was an unspoken expectation that those of us who were in the program would take the advanced classes track, as though that was an adequate replacement. Our fun and creative learning got replaced with harder concepts and a bigger homework load. None of us had much choice about it in 7th or 8th grade, but there were only 1 or 2 classes back then. We had choices when we got to highschool, but by that point, it was already ingrained in us to take the harder classes. Most of the people in the advanced track classes and AP classes were in the gifted program in elementary school. Instead of external forces pushing us into class loads we could barely handle, we were expected to do it ourselves.

It’s one of the reasons I got so much flack for not doing it my senior year. My junior year was spent taking algebra 3 and organic chemistry at the same time. The homework load was absolutely unreasonable, and I only had one extra curricular activity of debate. I decided I didn’t want to do that again. Against the encouragement and suggestion and argument of pretty much every person in my life - parents, teachers, counselor - I chose to take way easier classes my senior year. And I don’t regret it because I was already burnt out. After junior year, I was fucking burnt out, not that anybody knew or could have recognized it.

I guess my point in talking about all this is to say: even in the “good” programs that don’t have nearly as many issues as what the OP was explaining, burn out is still a very real problem, one that doesn’t get better upon graduation because suddenly, you are expected to take care of yourself basically independently, possibly hundreds of miles away from the support system of your family, and many gifted/former-gifted kids have no idea that they’re neurodivergent, and that complicates things even further.

(Also, side note about the whole existential crisis that they’re not special, I can’t speak for anyone else at my school, but I had this crisis in 7th grade, when suddenly I was in a classroom of peers who were all just as smart as me and just as able to tackle harder academic concepts, something I hadn’t been exposed to in my “normal” classes before. Especially since I had always been bullied for being “smart”, if had been a core part of my identity that had never been shaken with the gifted program because the point of the gifted program wasn’t knowing but learning. We didn’t get grades like we did in normal classes. We did t get tested. So I didn’t need to be smart, and that wasn’t a part of myself I was measuring against the other students, which I think was one reason the gifted program felt so freeing. But when the advanced classes started, suddenly, that was the MAIN thing being focused on, and I found myself competing against people who knew stuff just as well as I did. And I can’t imagine that was a singular experience, when it came to people in my specific program or kids in gifted programs more broadly)

I think a lot of the skepticism and derision toward the idea of "gifted kid burnout" stems from the fact that a lot of folks have no idea what the gifted track in most high schools actually looks like; they've got this mental image, possibly informed by popular media depictions, of "gifted kids" as a privileged group of students who get to go on extra field trips, monopolise the teachers' attention in class, and constantly be told how special they are, but are otherwise treated identically to all the other kids.

In practice, the gifted track in most high schools – most North American high schools at any rate – has the same problem as any other educational program: the need to adhere to published metrics. These programs exist for the benefit of students only insofar as those benefits can empirically be measured, which leads to several common outcomes:

Students on the gifted track being afforded fewer choices regarding elective classes – often to the extent of having no choices at all – in order to stream the highest-performing students into the subjects that are most valuable in terms of boosting institutional metrics.

Students on the gifted tracking receiving restricted access to educational resources such as tutoring because it's perceived as a waste of resources. In many cases, gifted students are not only denied access to tutoring, but expected to serve as volunteer tutors and teaching assistants themselves, effectively becoming a source of unpaid educational labour for the schools they attend.

Students on the gifted track being assigned considerably more homework, often literally doubling their workload in an environment where homework loads are already routinely high enough that kids have difficulty finding time to eat and sleep, simply because you get more measurable academic performance data that way.

The upshot is that the gifted track is often less about fun perks and constant praise, and more about receiving less freedom, fewer resources, and heavier workloads than one's peers, getting strong-armed into providing unpaid labour to the school on top of it, and constantly being told one should be grateful for it – and that's without touching on the fact that the unspoken secondary purpose of many gifted programs is to serve as a quarantine for all the neurodivergent kids the school couldn't find an excuse to institutionalise or expel.

Like, shit, there's a reason kids on the gifted track exhibit elevated rates of alcoholism and substance abuse compared to general student populations. That doesn't arise in a vacuum!

(To be clear, I'm not saying that people graduating from high school and immediately having an existential crisis upon realising they're not special after all isn't a thing that happens, but in my experience that's more usually something that happens to the kids who were on the football team, and reframing it as a nerd culture thing is really weird.)

[crowdemon-boyo]

@SEC where the FUCK was my iron tablet experiment

[cacoetheswriting]

library hours [reimagined] - spencer reid

warnings: age gap, professor / student, maybe a swear word or two, a lil tension, but mainly a fluffy first interaction word count: 1.7k summary: a late night at the university library leads to reader meeting a certain handsome professor.

a/n: this is a reimagined / rewritten version of this fic. for those interested, the original centres around baby!spencer. both fics start off pretty much the same, what differs is the interaction between spencer and reader.

-

There was something you always enjoyed about the going to the library.

Perhaps it was the way every single person that walked through the threshold had a purpose. A mission to complete. Perhaps it was the quiet. The solace you felt sitting alone in a corner researching various topics, for class and for recreational purposes.

The university library had quickly become your second home. A location you frequented more than your own dorm room. It wasn’t always to study, no. You people watched. Doodled. Even napped there from time to time. The place brought you peace, and by the time you senior year rolled around, you saw the librarians more than your college friends.

The university library was also the place where you first met a certain handsome professor, doctor - which in time became the main reason why you liked it so much.

Lights were slowly being turned off section by section. A vacuum came to life in one of the aisles. People started to scramble from their seats - shoving their things into their backpacks, throwing out empty coffee cups into the overflowing bins, checking out books they might still use that evening.

All signs indicating it was time to go.

Dolly, one of the librarians, ushered towards you. Her jacket draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She gave you the usual spiel of how you can stay until the janitor is finished cleaning, to which you politely nodded along. She wished you a pleasant night, and with a “see you tomorrow” she hurried out the door.

Once she was out of sight, you groaned under your breath and ran your fingers through your hair. You had an assignment due tomorrow, one you started hours ago and only managed to formulate three total sentences. Your gut was telling you there was no way you were going to finish now, especially since you had about thirty minutes until you would have to leave.

Leaning back in your chair, you fluttered your eyes closed in an attempt to collect your thoughts. The tranquil feeling didn’t last long however, as you were abruptly brought back to reality by someone loudly clearing their throat. You immediately sat back up and quickly scanned the space for the source of the interruption.

A tall brunette man stood a few tables away, his hands slowly sliding into the pockets of his pants. He was definitely older, by how much you couldn't quite tell. But, you definitely took notice of how handsome he was.

“The library is closed for the night.” He stated, the tone of his voice calm yet stern.

“I have permission to be here.” You retorted with as much confidence as you could muster, but the mysterious man didn't seem impressed with your answer. With an arched brow, he took a firm step in your direction.

“From who?” He challenged, as if he was waiting to catch you in a lie.

You folded your arms across your chest, unwilling to give in to whatever game he was playing. “Dolly, the librarian. I could call her if you don't believe me?”

The brunette didn’t respond. Instead, his lips twirled slightly upwards into a sly smirk and with the way he was now looking at you, you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You only hoped he didn't see the faint pink blush now present on your facial features.

“May I?” The man asked after a brief moment of silence, pointing to to the chair beside yours. You found yourself nodding, before quickly turning your attention away from him, and back to the book in front of you.

While he made himself comfortable, his leg brushed against yours. The sudden close contact sent a jolt down your spine and you shivered. A small act he definitely noticed.

“You’re not some sort of killer, are you? You’re not here to murder me?” You asked, tilting your head to once again look at the man. Shaking his head, he let out a wholehearted chuckle.

“No, I’m definitely not a murder.” He reassured.

“Definitely? That's over selling it, don't you think? It’s exactly the kind of thing a murder would say.” You teased in response, gaining a little bit of your courage back. He didn't reply. The smirk on his face widened just a little and he eyed you silently, as if you were a treasure map he was desperate to solve.

The two of you stared at one another for what felt like eternity. There was something amicable about the seconds that passed as you looked into his hazel eyes. Something harmonious. Friendly. Strong.

When you finally broke contact and proceeded to return to working on your assignment, you could still feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. In any other situation, with any other stranger, the feeling would have made you uncomfortable. Scared even. But there was something quite thrilling about the mysterious brunette sitting beside you.

“I’m a profiler.” He said after another moment of comfortable silence. “I work for the FBI as part of their Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He added as you glanced up at him from your notes, intrigue gracing your facial features. The statement was to make you feel safer in his presence - not that it was needed since you already felt strangely guarded around him.

You smiled, dropping your pen and shifting in your chair to face him completely. “So, agent, what are you doing at a university library on a Thursday night? Did the bad guys take a break?”

“Doctor.” He calmly corrected.

“What?”

“It’s doctor, not agent.” He said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.”

The smug look on his face earned him a playful eye roll. “You don’t happen to have a PhD in History under your belt, do you, doctor? Because that would be very helpful right about now.”

“No, but I do have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words per minute.” He declared and you gaped at him in disbelief, mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

Great, you thought, as if he wasn't intimidating enough.

“You could have just said you were a superhero.” You joked before leaning in towards him ever so slightly. The faint whiff of his cologne caught you off a little off guard, and you took a mental note to never again settle for someone that only used body spray. “Don’t worry, I’m really good with secrets. I won’t tell anyone.” You whispered and gently pressed your index finger to your lips.

The comment caused the handsome doctor to throw his head back in a whole-hearted laugh. He placed a hand on his stomach as you slowly shifted back to your previous position, chewing down on the inside of your cheek down to stop yourself from commenting on how good he looked.

“Am I going to get an answer to my previous question?” You asked once the laughter died down, your assignment long forgotten.

“I teach here.”

The statement earned him another eye roll. “Seriously? Is there anything you don't or can't do?”

It was his turn to lean in. He rested his elbows on his knees and intertwined his fingers together, his hazel eyes never leaving yours. The air hitched in your lungs at his proximity. You felt as if every single cell in your body was shaking.

“Well, us superheroes, we like to stay busy.” He whispered, his cool minty breath hitting you in the process, sending a shiver down your spine.

You cleared your throat, a timid smile appearing on your face. “There uhm, there’s this diner not far from here. It’s twenty-four hours meaning they won’t kick us out. Would you like to come with me? We can have coffee?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved back in his seat and ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. You bit down on your bottom lip, wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering if perhaps you had overstepped some sort of boundary since he was a professor and you were a student.

But, it was just coffee. Nothing more. That wasn't so bad... Right?

“Coffee sounds nice.” He responded with a smile, after what felt like forever.

Outside, there wasn’t a cloud in the night sky making the million stars shine all that brighter. They looked like perfect sugar granules spilled on a dark surface, accompanied by the glowing moonlight.

The breathtaking sight was accompanied by street lamps. They illuminated the path while you walked side by side, almost in sync. Shoulders faintly brushing against one another.

“How long have you been a profiler?” You asked, looking ahead. The wind blew lightly through your hair causing your brunette companion to turn his head and observe you quietly. A smile crept up on his lips.

“I joined when I was twenty-two.” He answered. You glanced up at him for a brief moment - that wasn't much younger than you now. The look in his eyes suggested he knew that’s what you were thinking.

“Do you like it? Or do you prefer teaching?”

He licked his lips, thinking. As he furrowed his brows together, you noticed the unobtrusive age lines defining his handsome features. Each individual crease telling a different story, and you found yourself hoping you would one day be lucky enough to hear them.

“Every job has its pros and cons.” The brunette man stated eventually, lightly shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn't help but let out a soft giggle at his answer. “Okay professor, now you just sound conventional.”

He chuckled, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his pants. “I’ve been called many things in my life, miss. Conventional was never one of them.”

“It’s Y/N. My name, uhm, my name is Y/N.”

You both stopped once you introduced yourself, simultaneously turning in your spots, so that you were facing each other completely.

“Y/N...” He tested your name on his tongue, and a smile embellished your features because for some reason it sounded incredibly striking coming out of his lips.

“It suits you.” He retorted and the blood rushed to your face. Now, he definitely noticed the blush, you thought. He didn’t comment on it however. Instead, he proceeded to introduce himself, “My name is Spencer. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @willowrose99

[lacependragonwrites]

BOOK OF FARSIDE 01: the city of fractured dreams

Cináed | Human, Caster | They/Them, Trans | 17 Chuishàii & Tíian | Underside | Underside Aligned loyal, indecisive, and curious

[Kih-NAHD]

Intro

Eight years is a long time, longer still when it’s almost half your life.

Eight years ago, Cináed was stolen away from their sister after a rescue attempt gone wrong. Their magic affinity discovered, they were thrown into the magic academy in Topside and left to struggle, to survive.

They did.

Eight years of training, of listening, and of learning, all with the goal of returning to Underside and finding their sister so they can be together again.

But Cináed has made friends in their time in Topside, and they’re no longer sure if they can leave those friends behind.

How do you reconcile two completely different worlds? Especially when each is trying to destroy the other. Yet if Cináed can’t reconcile them, can’t find a way to unite them, then they will be forced to choose one and turn against the other.

And they no longer know which side they want to choose.

Description

Appearance: 5’6 and built like a long distance runner. Cináed specializes in speed and manoeuvrability in combat and it shows all the way down. Light brown skin with warm undertones. Monolid, dark brown eyes and a broad nose with a flat bridge.

Cináed dip dyes the ends of their dark-dark brown hair a sort of faded cobalt blue colour. They wear one half of a pendant, a black half moon, the other half is with Cat, which is white. They never take it off.

Like all casters, Cináed’s pupils glow white when they use their magic.

Cináed prefers simple clothing to fancy, and almost exclusively wears tunics and linen pants if you let them. They own a bright red scarf that they take with them everywhere, no matter how badly it clashes with everything else. It’s the last piece Cináed has of their father and they refuse to part with it.

Magic & Skills: Cináed is a caster, meaning they have the natural ability to call forth the magic from casting stones. Cináed specializes in the elemental sigil of Wind and the harmonic sigil of Wisdom, a combination as unique as it is difficult to predict for anyone not practiced in it. Cináed is a top student at the academy and was named Valedictorian for their magic and academic prowess. It is one of the few areas of their life where they are confident.

They are also studious, well versed in a great deal of arcane history and arcane theory, as well as casting combinations. Cináed loves to be an expert in all they pursue and this has led to them studying mathematics, physics, and chemistry in pursuit of arcane knowledge.

As well, Cináed is physically fit, has quick reflexes, and is well-versed in arcane combat. They've learned to move silently as a result of living in Underside and trying to blend into Topside, and are one of the sneakiest people you'll ever meet.

Relationships: Cináed’s primary relationships are with Bran Faolán, Lara Acardi, and their sister, Cat.

Bran and Lara are both fellow students at the academy whom Cináed has grown close to in the last eight years. Cináed deeply loves and respects both of them, though Cináed’s never told the two their true origins beyond “Underside sponsor kid”, nor do they know Cináed’s goals to return to Underside.

Bran has been Cináed's roommate for the entirety of their time in Topside, though Cináed is not a sponsor kid of his family. Technically, Cináed is a sponsor kid of Gwyn Vaughan, though he's never actually spoken to them. Bran and Cináed are close friends, often leaning on one another for support, and Cináed and Lara share a love of unconventional and uncommon casting combinations.

Cat is a beacon of hope in Cináed’s life. No matter how dark and awful things got as a kid, Cat was always there for Cináed, protecting them and shielding them from harm. Even after Cináed was taken, Cináed clung to the hope that they’d be reunited and has worked tirelessly toward that goal every day.

Too bad she doesn’t know Cináed’s trans and has changed names. That’s probably gonna make it harder to reunite. But that’s part of why Cináed is so determined to do it — they figure their odds are better than Cat’s, presuming Cat hasn’t changed that much in the time.

Current Life: Cináed is two weeks from graduating from the magic academy in Topside at story start. They have been named valedictorian and have two weeks to decide if they want to stay in Topside longer or dive headlong into Underside.

Thoughts on Tairkyda Politics: Cináed fears that an all out conflict between Topside and Underside would limit their options, make their goal much harder, and put Cat in danger. They also fear that it would permanently separate them from Cat or their friends, neither of whom Cináed wants to live without.

Cináed is one of the main characters in my WIP, the city of fractured dreams, the first book in the book of farside series.

WIP Intro Post | WIP Tag | Picrew link

[bitchineering]

Lets go! Day 1: Let’s learn HOW the frick to study

So this I think is the most important thing to do and really it is insane that in the United States (which is where I am from by the way) students have no idea on how to freaking study. Honestly all of this gets me incredibly frustrated because with the internet we have the ability to share information and I’ll tell you that I am one of those people who have scavenged the internet and picked apart what I could find. Here’s another big problem: not everything someone does will work for you. 

Also just the spread of dumb study information is pretty terrible. If I do counter anything I will leave a paper or my citation just because I believe in putting down sources and showing others how to research and why citing is freakin important. 

Let’s get started: I’m going to summarize everything that will be in here for a second

1. Find your method of studying, find out everything. AND I MEAN EVERYTHING. You need to write down how you study (the different types of study people) but also the classes because people study sciences different than humanities. 

2. Find out your most productive state. If this means it is you at 2 am in a suit and jacket than that means you need to leave procrastination station and be studying during that time. Now I am not totally okay with people studying in a suit for one it is uncomfortable, I think a jeans and a clean tshirt is just as good. If you can be productive in sweatpants or pjs then go for it. I know I am not and it doesn’t work when I dress for relaxation.

Okay, I’ll be going into more in depth of mainly the first one but a bit of the second.

To start off the bat, if you have time watch this lecture https://youtu.be/IlU-zDU6aQ0 by Marty Lobdell. You have probably heard the saying before and one thing that makes me so frustrated within the study community is that others use this statment without giving any real examples. I feel like Lobdell does this as well as he doesn’t describe note taking and I do believe before putting down a material, you have to take notes. (All he mentions is handwriting notes and I do believe in that. You cannot really type notes and expect to learn the material). 

Another source I would suggest is the Vark Quiz (https://vark-learn.com/the-vark-questionnaire/) Learn what type you are (I’m a Kinesthetic!) and read what they give you. I’m not going to say you will perfectly match with your description but if you are starting from ground zero, this is an amazing place to see what might work for you instead of you having to come up with different technques on your own. 

I get so annoyed when people use the pomodoro method as a way to study. It is not a way to study. It is a way to schedule your study time. Also, I don’t think you can do much in 25 minutes or maybe it is just me. Usually I work for an hour or 50 minutes and then take a ten minute break. All you need to do is find out what works for you. 

Okay let’s get into classes, first there is an amazing youtuber named Nathan Wu who made this video (https://youtu.be/pdAt8JhBnMU and there is a part 2 but I’ll let you guys find it). He is a very good study youtuber that I do like to watch sometimes and I do appriciate that he is spreading correct information. I can give you guys an example of what worked for me in some of my classes (I also just wanna say I won’t be putting my grades on here nor anything really. I don’t feel comfortable being compared to others because I already have to deal with it at my own institution and peers. Please don’t compare yourself to others).

Chemistry (Wu also does include this subject in his video):

- Write notes and explanations for the love of god. Like please just write notes. 

- Also apply those notes. If you are confused in one area ask someone for help whether that be your teacher or someone else. 

-I would say to use flashcards, but I’m honestly a big quizlet user (I haven’t used Anki I’m a little weird and I get so annoyed when I use something that is popular. I sadly give off the “i’m not like other girls vibe”). When I use quizlet every time I get an answer wrong I write down the definition. I can explain this more because you can do this with notecards as well and probably Anki but I like the mobility of quizlet. 

-Labs... I do like doing some labs. I miss my older ones from Honors Chemistry, I barely do good labs in AP Chemistry, but at the same time you have to do them. This could be for any science class because knowing how to apply your information is the best way to test your knowledge that isn’t practice questions (If you need labs look up a virtual simulation. While it isn’t the same thing they are usually free and if not you can find some on youtube).

- Practice problems (this more or less goes with your grading point instead of studying. While I do believe the overall goal in studying is that you understand and can apply the topic tests are so different in many things). As stated before I have taken Honors Chemistry, so I used test prep from my teacher and was able to form questions similar to how she asked them on the quiz. In AP Chemistry I’ve been able to use the online resources from other teachers and AP Classroom. I will say AP Chemistry it is much harder to write my own questions because AP Chemistry is just really hard in general, but finding FRQ practices I believe is one of the best ways you can work on it (Honestly it may be just me but doing FRQs or written essays for answers is so much better than multiple choice because this allows you to practice giving explanations and learning where your gap of knowledge is).

Another study technique I like to do is called the Feynmann technique. This is such a great way to apply knowledge without doing test prep because you need to essentially master your subject before test prep. This method includes creating a study plan for someone else, you need to teach someone else (or something else) what you’re learning and have them ask questions. Know I know this doesn’t really work well for some people including myself because I don’t really have others to talk to when I study but talk to yourself. (sometimes I talk to a ghost or a plushie in my room. I have little trinkets on my desk of which a tiger egg and a Chick Fil A cow plushie wearing a sunflower dress. Just try it, it might seem weird but you got to). If you can’t have others ask you questions say everything you can remember (and maybe do this on a google doc with the voice chat box open, I would say record yourself but I hate hearing my own recordings). Then, once you have finished look through your notes and see what you got correct and what you got wrong. If you did use a google docs then write what you meant to say like: “I said this... but this was incorrect because of this...”

For study schedule or something related to studying I would say watch these videos: https://youtu.be/-m2Ua5Y0mzc and https://youtu.be/OYuhkaOPKcM. Both are by youtubers who I do like to watch and follow what they do. I would say to look through Alicia’s youtube a bit more if you like electronic organization AND the true studyblr (girl can do beautiful calligraphy). I believe I align more with Keo Tsang, who studies later at night rather than earlier than the morning. Tsang does get more hours of sleep than me (haha). If you are in high school please don’t do what he does though. I try to go to bed by midnight because then I’ll get six hours of sleep, and I can sleep on the bus (it takes me an hour to get to school). I also have a free first period where I can sleep if I need to or catch up on work from last night if I didn’t do it. I do like to work when there is sunlight but also coming home from school and taking a detox or a break is so much better for my mental health. I know it will be different when in university but I’d just say this to any high school student, please do a mental detox. Don’t go on social media and scroll endlessly maybe listen to some music, read a book, take a walk/run, my sister would bake after a long stressful day and her food- while not the best- got her in a good mood. 

I think this is all I’ll write today. I still need to do so much work myself haha but I am a big procrastinator and also I did have a break down a little while ago. Just know you are worth everything and in the end, every problem is going to have some type of solution even if there is no solution. Your life doesn’t need to be answered today or tomorrow so let’s work on becoming better students one step at a time :)

[teddy06writes]

A Day In The Life

requesred by this genius anon: “Aight imma hit you with a good one: Literally everything as platonic, but a day in the life of reader in high school with the minor gang (too my, tubbo, ranboo) and all the faculty at the school are dreamsmp members”

Platonic! Minors gang (tommy, tubbo, ranboo and purpled) x reader

trigger warnings: none

premise: a day in the life of a student at the DSMP public high school 

{with all the shit that goes on the smp there's no way it could be anything but a public school}

{also if I do things slightly off or something its cause my high school is weird, we only have four blocks a day, but I think most have seven, so we’re going with that}

{also the dream/george thing, is based on two of the sciences teachers at my school being suspected of having an affiar}

{Full teacher list:

English: Mr. NotFound

Drama: Mr. Soot

Spanish: Mr. Dream (its mexican dream lol)

Gym: Coach Sapnap and Coach Punz

Home ec: Miss Nihachu

Music: Mr. Quackity

Chemistry: Mr. Halo}

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

Home room: Mr. Callahan

You sighed, trudging toward the school entrance, god it was way to early for this. 

The halls were already crowded with people heading to there home rooms, and Mr. Minecraft, the principal, was standing outside the admin offices, greeting everyone with a smile. 

“Good morning, (y/n).” 

“Good morning Mr. Minecraft.” You grumbled as you passed. 

You hurried through the foyer and up the stairs, toward Mr. Callahan’s room. 

“Hey!” Tubbo called, hurrying down the hallway, “(y/n)!”

“Hey Tubbo.” you yawned.

He fell into step with you, “You think Callahan will actually show today?” 

The one good thing about your home room teacher is that none of the kids ever seemed to have seen him. It meant that some days, while other home rooms had lectures of bullying or something, your class got to hang out for 30 minutes. 

“I don’t think he even exists.” Purpled said, falling in on your other side. 

“He definitely doesn’t.” You agreed. 

~~

History: Mr. Blade

“Hey (y/n)!” Ranboo called from his seat at the front of the room as you came in. 

He was lucky enough to have moved homerooms and ended up getting the same room as his first block. 

“Hello Ranboo.” you sighed, sitting down in your seat next to him. 

Tommy came in and plopped down behind you, “Well you sound like shit.”

“No swearing in my classroom, Tommy.” Mr. Blade chided, hardly looking up from the book on his desk. 

You turned to look at Tommy, “It’s too early for this.” 

“You say that everyday!” He laughed. 

“Yeah! Cause this class starts at 7:45 in the god damn morning!” You half exclaimed. 

“Bloody hell you’d think you’d get used to it-” 

“Tommy, what did I say about swearing?” Mr. Blade cut Tommy off. 

“But you didn’t yell at (y/n)!” Tommy yelled, “That’s not fair Tech!” 

Me. Blade glared at his brother, “Do you want me to send you down to Phil’s office Tommy?” 

“I didn’t even do anything!”

After a moment under Mr. Blades glare, Tommy sighed, “Please don’t send me down to Phil.” 

The teacher didn’t respond, instead standing up and moving to stand in front of the board, queuing up the intro slides for the day, “All right everyone, settle down. Today in our ‘tour of the ancient world’ or whatever, we’re going to start our mini unit on Greece.”

~~

Statistics/Math: Mr. Was Taken

After a class that ended mostly in a rant about the myth of Heracles, you said goodbye to Ranboo and Tommy and met up with Purpled to head to math. 

Mr. Wastaken was already passing out the notes when you two got there, sliding into your seats at the back of the classroom just as the bell rang. 

“You’re late.” He chided, dropping the papers onto your desk, then Purpleds. 

“Purp needed to refill his water bottle.” You explained. 

“Seriously?” Mr. Wastaken questioned, “Dude, it’s second block, why the hell was your water already empty?” 

Purpled shrugged, “P.E?” 

“Ehh, wrong, Sapnap doesn’t have you till sixth period.” 

“Stairs... are murder man.” He fumbled. 

You nodded, “First floor to the fourth floor is tough Mr. Wastaken.” 

Rolling his eyes, the teacher moved back to the front of the room, “Alright, last nights homework was a bit of a flop so we’ll be more review for the quiz tomorrow.” 

You groaned internally, pulling out your pencil. 

Purpled nodded, “I fuckin hate review days.” 

“I can hear you, you know!” Mr. WasTaken half yelled. 

~~

Chemistry: Mr. Halo

After Math you and Purpled headed down to the science hall to meet back up with Tubbo to head to Chem. 

“Welcome back everybody!” Mr. Halo greeted cheerily, “Good to see smiling faces for chemistry!” 

How he managed to stay so upbeat, no one would ever know.

You sat down at your lab table with Tubbo, “You think we actually make it to doing the lab today before he starts talking about Mr. Skeppy again?” 

“Oh no chance.” 

You chuckled, pulling out your notebook as Mr. Halo pulled up the opening review before the lab. 

Twenty minutes later found you elbow deep in the lab, quite literally. 

“It was supposed to just be a small scale elephants toothpaste!” Mr. Halo cried. 

Purpled grinned, “You should’ve taken my wildcard factor into account sir.” 

You laughed, wiping the foam off your apron (thank god for lab aprons), “That was brilliant!” 

A few minutes earlier, Tubbo had helped him do out the math to scale up the experiment by 20%, and you had willingly given up your own materials to help.

Now most of the classroom was covered in the foam, and Purpled and the girl who had been unfortunate enough to be partnered with him were knee deep in it. 

“I sent the video to the groupchat.” Tubbo whispered.

“Good.” You chuckled again. 

Mr. Halo groaned, “You three start cleaning this up, Elizabeth, dear, why don’t you join a different group.”

“I volunteer to switch with her!” Drista yelled, “they look like fun!” 

Mr. Halo sighed, “No- no absolutely not- I can’t deal with you added to the mix.” 

Drista pouted, the rest of the class went back to there work, and you, Tubbo and Purpled began to clean up the foam. 

~~

Drama: Mr. Soot

As Purpled left for his history class, you and tubbo headed twoard the music/performing arts suit, where you met up with Ranboo. 

“Tommy said he wished he could’ve been there to see the foam.” Ranboo reported as Tubbo peeled off into the band room, and you both continued on to the green room. 

“Hello, Hello, Hello!” Mr. Soot greeted in an aussie accent (you know the one). 

“Oh god please say were not doing accents today.” Ranboo muttered. 

Mr. Soot laughed, “Nah, we’re going to do some more rounds of improv.” 

“Oh thank god.” You said as you moved to take a seat at one of the side tables. 

“That would have been hell.” Ranboo agreed. 

More people poured into the room, take seats all around as Mr. Soot began to dig through on of the closets. 

As the bell rang he let out a triumphant cheer, turning around and brandishing a very large bowl of paper slips, “I found the prompts!” 

“Oh dear lord.” Ranboo muttered.

“Mr. Soot can we please do like, anything else?” You asked, “Like scenes, or hell I’d even take monologues, you know we’re all shit at improv!” 

The teacher sighed, “I suppose we could do something else. I guess we can begin our next topic, you’re all going to be assigned scenes and given time to practice them, we’ll present on Friday!” 

The entire class breathed a sigh of relief that you had managed to change his mind. 

~~ English: Mr. NotFound 

After a very chaotic lunch full of Tubbo retelling a bunch of jokes Mr. Quackity had told during music,  you trudged off to the one class that didn’t have any of your main group of friends in. 

The one good thing about having Mr. NotFound as a teacher was that he had no clue what he was doing. 

More often then not you would be left to do essays or read the required books, and then watch the movies that went along with them.

And, just your luck, your English block happened to take place during Mr. Wastaken’s prep period. 

“Right, everyone, today’s a work day, finish up anything you need to for this class, or another, and I’ll put on a movie.” Mr. NotFound said as soon as everyone was seated. 

Ten minutes into the movie the teacher had left, and you pulled up the group chat.

(y/n): Mr. NotFound has yet again suspiciously left during class. 

Purp: sus

Purp: just went by WasTaken’s room

Purp: he’s not there

BooBoy: I saw him down in the science hall ten minutes ago

BeEs: Science hall is oposite to English isn’t it

(y/n): yeah it is

BooBoy: very sus

Purp: I swear their having an affair

BeEs: defintly a lesbian

BeEs: *leassion

BeEs: lesion

BeEs: le-a-zon

BeEs: you know what I mean!

BooBoy: take your time Tubbo

You chuckled quietly, putting your phone down to look back up at the movie on the screen. 

~~

Spanish: Mr. Dream (its mexican dream lol)

“AYYYY kids!”

You groaned as your Spanish teacher burst into the room.

“What is with this guy?” Tommy muttered. 

“ayy man not cool.” Mr. Dream said. 

“Mr. Dream your ten minutes late!” Someone pointed out. 

“SHut up man. And I told you just call me Mexican Dream!” The teacher said. 

You frowned, “That doesn’t make sense, theres no way your first name is ‘mexican’.” 

“Well its not,” He explained, “But its cause I’m the Mexican version of that math teacher!” 

“Why couldn’t I have taken French like Boo and Purp?” Tommy asked the ceiling quietly.

~~ Home ec: Miss Nihachu

The last block of the day was always the best, but not just because school would be over soon. 

There were three main reasons why everyone agreed it was the best. 

1. Miss Nihachu was the nicest teacher in school

2. baking was done often, and everyone always got to take some home

3. it was the one class you, Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Purpled all had together. 

Soon your found yourself crowded into one of the tiny kitchen areas with all your friends, as Miss Nihachu gave instructions. 

“Now, if you make a mess you will be cleaning it up! I’m looking at your kitchen a!” She said, half threateningly.

Ranboo pushed away from the group, “I’m not with them I swear!” 

Miss Nihachu rolled her eyes playfully, “Sure your not.” 

Surprisingly, a mess was not fully made. 

Somehow between Tommy wanting to taste the cookie dough at every step from butter to flour, Tubbo trying to add as many chocolate chips as he could, and Purpled all but refusing to move from where he was sitting on the counter, you and Ranboo managed to get the cookies into the oven with no real disasters. 

As you wiped down the empty counter space you sighed, “That wasn’t too bad.” 

“Yeah.” Tubbo agreed. 

Tommy only nodded, still eating the large glob of cookie dough he’d stolen. 

Ten minutes before the bell rang and when everyone was supposed to be finishing cleaning up you sniffed the air suspiciously, “Why do I smell burning?” 

Tubbo took a deep breath, “I smell it too.”

“Oh yeah, something is definitly burning.” Ranboo agreed. 

You whirled to face Purpled, who was absently scrolling through his phone, “Purp you did set a timer right?” 

[bayleavesfromthevine]

Some thoughts about the different teaching styles in JJK

Well. There’s only two that we really know so far: Gojo’s and Utahime’s. And I think the differences in their teaching styles are really interesting. 

Gojo is a very hands-off teacher for the most part. Yeah, he taught Yuuji from the ground-up, but only because he had no other choice - and even then he didn’t do the best job (more on that later). Megumi had to specifically ask to train with him, the implications being that Gojo does not regularly train with his students. Lastly, as far as I remember, Gojo has never even spoken directly to Nobara (outside of when they first met and he called her over to their group). Please correct me if I’m wrong, but he’s only spoken to her when he was referring to the trio as a whole, which is an issue I won’t get into here. Needless to say, he’s not much of a present mentor in his students’ lives.  For all I know, Gojo might be lazy when it comes to his job - I don’t get the sense that he’s all that enthusiastic about the instructional aspect of teaching as much as he likes the final result. Basically, as he’s stated before, he wants strong allies. He wants a jujutsu society in which he is not the only pillar holding it together. He also wants his students to be strong enough to help him change jujutsu sorcery from the bottom-up. Ergo, him entrusting his students to trainings and missions without his guidance seems to be a “tough love” type of approach: they’ll grow when they reach their breaking points, but that will only occur when he’s not around. As such, Yuuji, Nobara, and Megumi are strong on their own. Like Gojo himself.   (Also, he’s only the instructor of the first-years, soooo? Who are the second- and third-year instructors? Ah, whatever. That’s not the point of this post smh.)

Utahime, on the other hand, is very different. She actually trains with her students. She teaches them, guides them, and clearly has a personal relationship with each of them, which I picked up on in just the brief interactions we saw in the exchange event. (When Mai and Miwa were talking about Maki during their break in Miwa’s flashback?? And then they... went back to their training session with their instructor??? .... Guys... Gojo could NEVER.) As a result, the Kyoto students are far superior at working as a team (well, sans Todo lol, but he’s a special case) and they have a better understanding of each others’ techniques, which, of course, we also saw in the exchange event. (Yes, yes. I know Yuuji and Nobara are a powerful duo, but that is an anomaly and seems to have formed from their chemistry and talents, not Gojo’s influence.) There’s also a stronger sense of “family” amongst the Kyoto students that must have been due to Utahime’s influence. (Not to say that the Tokyo students don’t have a similar vibe to them, but it’s just not as prominent imo.)  I can’t help but notice that Utahime focuses on her students supporting each other and working together presumably because of her own experiences. This is only a theory, but, while we don’t know her cursed technique yet, it seems likely that she requires time and support from others in order to use her abilities in battle. It would make sense for her to instruct and nurture her students to be able to support and function with a variety of techniques as a unit - including those that aren’t as convenient to use (Mai’s ability comes to mind here).   I think it’s fair to say that Utahime wants roughly the same thing as Gojo: to build up strong sorcerers that will one day take charge of their society and build a better future. However, the big difference between the two, in my opinions, is that Utahime seems to acknowledge the distinction between herself and her students - she knows she is a mentor whose job is to nurture them into full-fledged sorcerers. There will always be that teacher/student or adult/child aspect of her relationships with them, even, presumably, after they graduate and become legitimate, adult allies. She’s a normal teacher like that (I assume).  Obviously, I think Gojo knows that his relationship with his students is the same deal. However, I can’t help but feel like his actions and words bely that fact. He said he wants allies, and he treats his students as such. I think you can see this the most in his relationship with Megumi. As many people have acutely pointed out, Gojo is all about treating children and teenagers with respect for their agency and allows them to make their own choices. This is a beautiful thing and I love that about his character, but it does add an interesting layer to his teaching style. Mainly: he views his students as equals from the get-go, despite the fact that they are relying on him to guide them. Now, I’m not saying that he shouldn’t treat them as equals - he should because they are, especially when they’re putting their lives on the line and are more likely to die than he is in any given situation - but the student/teacher relationship is an important one for those on the student end of things. When Gojo doesn’t uphold his end of the bargain, certain things are lost and left up to the students to figure out for themselves. (Prime example: Yuuji’s divergent fist. Gojo knew it wouldn’t work long term, or against special grades, yet still said nothing, forcing Yuuji to learn the hard way. Had Nanami and Todo not been there to say something / do Gojo’s damn job for him, Yuuji’s growth might have been stunted or, worst case, he would have been killed.)  (Utahime never would have let it get to that point, but we’re not here to slander Gojo lol) So anyway, my point is: Gojo wants his students to be strong enough to not have to rely on others, believing that jujutsu sorcery is an individual’s game.  Utahime also wants her students to be strong, but she also acknowledges the value in relying on others so that no one person (or small group of people) is responsible for holding up the entire jujutsu world.  And I just think that’s neat.  

[rockislandadultreads]

Book Recommendations: More Action-Packed and Fast-Paced Stories

The Final Strife by Saara El-Arifi

Red is the blood of the elite, of magic, of control. Blue is the blood of the poor, of workers, of the resistance. Clear is the blood of the slaves, of the crushed, of the invisible. Sylah dreams of days growing up in the resistance, being told she would spark a revolution that would free the empire from the red-blooded ruling classes’ tyranny. That spark was extinguished the day she watched her family murdered before her eyes. Anoor has been told she’s nothing, no one, a disappointment, by the only person who matters: her mother, the most powerful ruler in the empire. But when Sylah and Anoor meet, a fire burns between them that could consume the kingdom - and their hearts. Hassa moves through the world unseen by upper classes, so she knows what it means to be invisible. But invisibility has its uses: It can hide the most dangerous of secrets, secrets that can reignite a revolution. And when she joins forces with Sylah and Anoor, together these grains of sand will become a storm. As the empire begins a set of trials of combat and skill designed to find its new leaders, the stage is set for blood to flow, power to shift, and cities to burn.

This is the first book in “The Ending Fire” trilogy. 

Into the Mist by P.C. Cast

As men fall to the mist, the age of womankind begins to rise. The world as we know it ends when an attack on the U.S. unleashes bombs that deliver fire and biological destruction. Along with sonic detonations and devastating earthquakes, the bombs have also brought the green mist. If breathed in, it is deadly to all men - but alters the body chemistry of many women, imbuing them with superhuman abilities. A group of high school teachers heading home from a conference experiences firsthand the strength of these new powers. Mercury Rhodes is the Warrior, possessing heightened physical powers. Stella Carver is the Seer, with a sixth sense about the future. Imani Andrews is the Watcher, with a rare connection to the earth. Karen Gay is the Priestess, demonstrating a special connection with Spirits. And Gemma Jenkins is the Healer, a sixteen-year-old student who joins the group after losing her parents. As they cross the Pacific Northwest, trying to find a safe place to ride out the apocalypse, the women soon learn they can't trust anyone, and with fresh danger around every corner, it will take all their powers to save themselves - and possibly the world.

This is the first book in the “Into the Mist” series.

Take No Names by Daniel Nieh

Victor Li is a man without a past. To his new employer, Mark, he's just an anonymous hired hand to help with the dirty work. Together, they break into storage units that contain the possessions of the recently deported, pocketing whatever is worth selling. Only Victor and his sister, Jules, know that he's a wanted man. Amid the backpacks and suitcases, Victor makes the find of a lifetime: a gem rare and valuable enough to change his fortunes in an instant. But selling it on the sly? Nearly impossible. Thankfully, its former owner, a woman named Song Fei, also left a book of cryptic notes - including the name of a gemstone dealer in Mexico City. When Victor and Mark cross the southern border, they quickly realize that this gem is wrapped up in a much larger scheme than they imagined. In Mexico City, shadowy international interests are jockeying for power, and they may need someone with Victor's talents - the same ones that got him in trouble in the first place.

The Record Keeper by Charles Martin

Murphy Shepherd’s last rescue mission very nearly cost him his life. He’d like nothing more than to stay close to his wife and daughters for a while. But the nemesis of his mentor and friend must be stopped, and there are so many who need to know that they are worth rescuing. As the cat-and-mouse game moves into the open, Murphy is tested at every turn - both physically and mentally. And then the unthinkable happens: his beloved friend is taken. Without a trace. Murphy lives by the mantra that love shows up. But how can he do that when he has no leads?

This title is the third volume of the “Murphy Shepherd” series. The first and second books in this series are The Water Keeper and The Letter Keeper, respectively.

[thebookreader12345]

High School Sweethearts

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x reader

Summary: Y/N and Kevin dated back in high school, but decided to go separate ways once they graduated, and now, a case has brought them back together again

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: mentions of drugs, death and alcohol, depiction of a crime scene

Word Count: 1,459 Words

“What do we got?” I ask the patrol officer as I walked up to the crime scene.

“Two dead. One male, one female. Late teens. They were found over here by the baseball coach,” the officer told me and led me over to one of the dugouts attached to the baseball field. Inside of the dugout, I saw the bodies of the two teens. My eyes were drawn to the boy first. He was slumped over on the bench with his arm straight out at his side. His hair was a dark shade of brown, which contrasted with the light color of his skin. I then glanced over to the girl, who was laying against the floor. Her blonde hair was splayed around her face, and she looked almost peaceful.

“Did they go to school here?” I ask and gesture to the large building out in the distance.

“It looks like it,” the man replied. “We’ve got guys asking teachers and students questions, seeing if anyone knows who they are. They didn’t have IDs on them.”

“And the drugs? Did you find them?” I question.

The officer nodded. “Forensics took them already. I could get you the pictures if you’d like.”

“That’d be great. Send all of the pictures you’ve got over to Narcotics. I’m working under Sergeant Jacobs. We’ll take over everything from here,” I say. Once I had seen everything I needed to see, I drove back to my unit’s office. Inside, my co-workers were all staring at photos on their computers of the crime scene I had just come from.

“L/N, I need to speak to you for a moment,” Sergeant Jacobs spoke. I made my way straight into his office and sat down in one of the leather chairs he kept in front of his mahogany desk. “I’ve gotten word that Intelligence is chasing the same dealer as us, so the Superintendent would like us to work together on this one. I want you to head over there, talk to them about the new crime scene, give them the information we’ve gathered, the works,” Jacobs explained.

“Got it. I’m just waiting for an ID on our two vics, but I will head right over after I’ve got those,” I tell my sergeant.

...........................................

When I entered the 21st district, I walked up to the desk sergeant, whose uniform read Platt. “Um, excuse me? I’m looking for Sergeant Voight.” The woman looked up at me and scanned me once over as if I were a prized pet. 

“Atwater, would you please bring this officer up to Voight?” At the mention of that last name, dozens of memories hit me like a truck. I had known a guy whose last name was Atwater, and we had dated for a good part of high school.

“Uh, sure. Follow me Officer- Y/N?!” Kevin said quizzically once I turned around to face the man.

“Kevin? Oh my god,” I mutter and rush over to hug him. Kevin wrapped his arms around me, and being in them made me miss the old days when we were together. “So, you’re apart of Intelligence, huh?”

“Uh, yeah. And I didn’t know you became a police officer? I thought you were studying chemistry?” Kevin questioned.

“I was, but it got boring, and then for some reason, I really wanted to be a police officer, so here I am. Look at you. You don’t look any different from high school,” I exclaim and glance over him.

“I see you’ve still got your humor. Come on. I’ll take you to Voight. So, you’re working in Narcotics?” Kevin asked.

“Uh, yeah. I just moved back here from L.A. a few weeks ago, and I worked in a similar unit out there, so I was able to get into Sergeant Jacobs’ unit. It’s obviously not as elite as Intelligence, but we catch drug dealers, so we’re doing some good for the city,” I shared as Kevin pressed his palm to the palm scanner, which in turn opened up the gate leading to upstairs.

“After you,” Kevin spoke and moved out of the way to let me through the gate first. I thanked him quickly and bounded up the stairs until I made it to the main office of the Intelligence Unit. 

“Hey Kev. Who’s this?” a man asked. The man who had spoken was around my age with light skin and dark brown eyes. His hair was a caramel brown color, and it was swooped back over his head to my right, his left. He also had a small beard growing out, which matched his flannel attire perfectly.

“Oh, uh, Adam, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my partner Adam,” Kevin stated.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say and shake Adam’s hand.

“Hold on a sec. You’re Y/N L/N, right? Kevin’s high school girlfriend,” Adam pointed out.

“Hold on a minute. Did someone say Kevin has a girlfriend?” a brunette woman asked and made her way out of the door on my left followed by another woman, this one blonde, and a guy who looked kind of similar to Adam, but had darker hair and sharper facial features.

“Y/N, this is Kim, Hailey, and Jay, the rest of the unit,” Kevin said and pointed to each person.

“Hey. Um, I’m his ex-girlfriend,” I stammer out. I was not expecting to be bombarded like this. “It’s uh, it’s not important. I’m here to speak to Sergeant Voight.”

“You must be Detective L/N,” a man, who I’m assuming was Sergeant Voight, noted. “I was told you’d be working on this case with us. Got any information on the recent victims you’d like to share?”

I nodded. “Yeah. A lot actually, so let’s get to it.”

A Few Days Later...

“Thanks for all of your help, L/N. I’ll be sure to tell your sergeant what a great asset you were to the team,” Voight told me.

“Oh. Uh, thank you, Sergeant Voight. It was a pleasure working with you guys. Maybe we’ll end up working together in the future,” I say.

“Hey, Y/N, Kim, Adam, and I are going to this bar called Molly’s after shift. Want to come?” Kevin asked me.

I smiled. “Sure. That sounds fun. Send me the address and I’ll meet you guys there.” After I had finished up the paperwork that needed to be done for the case, I put the address Kevin had given me into my car’s GPS and headed off to Molly’s. When I got there, everyone else had already arrived and had reserved a table near the back of the establishment.

“Kevin claims you like whiskey, but I think you’re more of an ice cold beer girl. What’ll be?” Adam questioned.

“Sorry, Adam, but Kevin is right,” I confirm. “Whiskey is, and always will be, my drink of choice.”

“So, you two were high school sweethearts, and based on what Kevin has told me, you guys seemed adorable together. Why’d you guys break up?” Kim asked. Quickly after that, she followed with, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. Uh, I got a full ride to UCLA to study chemistry, and Kevin wanted to stay here with his family, so we came to the decision that it would be better if we broke up,” I explain.

“You know, I never wanted to break up,” Kevin informed me.

“I didn’t either,” I reply. “I only decided that we should because I didn’t want to keep you from being with your family.”

“We’ll give you guys a minute,” Adam spoke and grabbed onto Kim’s arm, dragging her over to the bar.

“It took me 2 years to really get over you. And even after that, I still couldn’t even look at another guy without remembering what we had,” I say.

“I haven’t been with anyone either. Maybe we should give us another shot,” Kevin suggested.

“Maybe. First though, I think we should see if we still have chemistry,” I murmur flirtatiously.

“I can agree with that,” Kevin responded and leaned down to kiss me. The moment our lips touched, it felt like I was back in high school all over again. I wrapped my arms around Kevin’s neck to bring him down closer to my height, and smiled against his lips. Yeah, the chemistry was definitely still there.

“So, seeing as you’ve lived here longer, I’m assuming that you know some great restaurants to get takeout from. Because after all of this alcohol, I’m going to need some food,” I tell Kevin.

Kevin smiled. “I know this amazing Mexican place right by my apartment. We could get some food and catch up.”

“That sounds great. I can’t wait,” I mutter and take a sip of my whiskey.

____________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13

[rong-chang-esl]

Interactive Websites For Learning

They don’t necessarily need to be coloring, however they should be doing something to maintain their palms busy and their minds calm. If you need to add a little bit of an educational punch, incorporate current classroom themes and ideas. We all have “off” days and “on” days, sleepy days and peppy days, grumpy days and pleased days, gradual days and quick days. [newline]Our college students expertise all of this stuff, too.It’s as much as us to be ready with applicable and interesting ESL activities, it doesn't matter what sort of moods and energies the day would possibly deliver. Where attainable, every student who hears a presentation can also be requested to assume of a word in their own language that means the same as the presenter’s “untranslatable” word. After the presentation of each word, the opposite students will have the chance to ask questions, to make clear the word’s that means and utilization.

As many people have now shifted a lot of our instructing online, I have been placing collectively a portal of activities which can be utilized for online studying and teaching. Activities embrace themed conversation questions, the random query generator, scrambled sentence maker, on-line scatter sheet maker, what occurs next, fortune telling runes and far more. ELLs learn from listening to read-alouds, songs, poems, and chants.

I appreciate your hard work and look ahead to hearing extra of your ideas. I don’t know the point of my telling this story… I guess it’s that when it’s done cautiously and respectfully and on the ELL student’s phrases, we can learn SO much from them. “It breaks my heart once I hear teachers say don’t know something,” says Eddington. They simply can’t tell us in English but.” Make a acutely aware effort to see past the accent and the mispronunciations and treat every interplay — each scholar — with the respect they deserve. As with most finest educating practices, all of it comes again to constructing relationships.

Read aloud one of the details that's true for one of these three students. Duolingo is a free app and website that permits you to strengthen your English language expertise with just a few minutes a day. USA Games is crammed with video games to assist students study in regards to the United States, its geography, state capitals and history. A4esl contains many straightforward, medium and troublesome actions and quizzes for students, especially within the areas of vocabulary and grammar.

Picture glossary – One of the best ways to learn the vocabulary of a brand new language is with pictorial flash cards. A picture of the concept is on one aspect while the time period is on the reverse. The scholar learns to correlate ideas immediately with phrases, eliminating the necessity for translation. Model laboratory activities – Demonstrate actions in front of class to ensure that English language learners can see the procedures earlier than participating in an exercise. In my Amazon storefront, I actually have suggestions for skilled growth and assets on word study.

Use organizational buildings when educating earth and house science (8.2), biology (8.3), chemistry (8.4), or physics (8.5) to English language learners. Manual video management – Science videos usually introduce quite a lot of new phrases and ideas, most of which even native speakers never keep in mind. Use the bookmark and video clip features to return to express sequences for evaluation (16.5.4).

Have each pupil write three details about themselves that nobody within the class knows on a piece of paper. Make positive each student contains their name on the top of the web page. Collect the sheets of paper and bring three college students to the entrance of the room.

Please take a look at SIOP for professional development opportunities and conferences. I actually have been studying this weblog for quite a while, so I know that it isn't the feeling of the writer that college students should simply sit at school and pay attention, however the wording used here was very unlucky. It is important that we share and reflect on how we method our career.

For More Learning Visit US At: beginner esl lessons

[carewyncromwell]

[Ficlet] Take a Chance on Me

...Hey, I said I might add onto the ficlet I did of how Carewyn joined the Slytherin Quidditch team for a game back in her third year! >>; This is based on Quidditch Season 1 Chapter 6, AKA the major plot turn before MC, Orion, Skye, and their house Quidditch team’s first match. (In this case, Slytherin VS Hufflepuff!)

For those of you who didn’t read the last ficlet and want to just jump into this one -- Carewyn (soon to be “Mama-Bear”) Cromwell is a third year Slytherin, with Orion, Skye, McNully, and Rath all being one year ahead of her. This will also be the only Quidditch match Carewyn plays until the tail end of her sixth year, which you can read about with this Quest of the Quidditch tag I made! Also as a note, since there is some art under the cut -- Orion, in my canon, doesn’t look the way he does in the game until his sixth year or so (namely, with his facial hair), hence why he looks a bit more boyish in how I drew him! (It is amazing how much younger Orion looks without the stubble!!) And yeah, even if Carewyn and Orion eventually become a couple post-Hogwarts, their relationship won’t really be explicitly romantic here, even if the strong platonic chemistry will definitely be there. 😊

Hope you enjoy! 💚

x~x~x~x

The Slytherin VS Hufflepuff Quidditch match was scheduled for the first weekend of November. With less than a week remaining, both houses were getting very excited -- Carewyn could tell her friend Penny Haywood was having trouble knowing whether to be more thrilled for her house team or for Carewyn.

“Well, there are a lot of people who don’t make the team on their first try!” Penny had said to Carewyn when she learned the news. “Gosh, Carewyn -- I know you’ll be flying up against my team, but...watching you play in a real Quidditch match will be even more fun than just watching one with you!”

Charlie and Andre were also thrilled. 

“I knew you could do it, Carey!” said Charlie, beaming from ear to ear. “C’mere!”

He looped an arm around her neck and squeezed her against his side in a hug. 

“Mm, I can’t say I knew, given Orion Amari’s reputation,” said Andre, though his face still broke into a grin, “but I’m glad that however odd he is, at least he can see raw talent when it’s placed in front of him! It’ll be so much more exciting to have you on the Pitch too, Cursebreaker.”

Though inwardly hating the nickname, Carewyn still gave them her best smile. “Thanks...”

~~~

The first couple of Slytherin team practices were largely based on teamwork exercises, so as to “strengthen the bond” between Carewyn and the rest of her teammates. She knew her fellow Chasers Orion and Skye already, of course, but Orion wanted to make sure she was likewise on good terms with their Beaters -- a pair of muscular seventh-years called King and Shacklebolt -- their very tall sixth-year Keeper Crockett, and their pretty seventh-year Seeker, Anika Lucky. 

If Carewyn’s petite height and lack of muscles weren’t noticeable before, it was comically apparent when she stood alongside the rest of the Slytherin team -- even Skye, the smallest of them, still towered a good ten inches over 4′9″ Carewyn. Fortunately, although most of the Slytherin team gave Carewyn a slightly confused side-eye when she first arrived for practice, they all reacted a little differently after Orion challenged the team to break his record of balancing on their brooms (2 hours, 52 minutes and 31.2 seconds, according to McNully), and Carewyn was the only one who kept up with Skye all the way up until the end. 

“And then there were two,” sighed Shacklebolt rather tiredly, when he finally had to give up and sit back down on his broom, massaging his leg. 

Crockett looked at Orion with something of a weak smile. “Come on, Orion...maybe we should call this off. We can’t exactly break the record for balancing on one leg together when most of us are sitting down...”

“Ah, but if one of us breaks the record, then we all break the record,” said Orion with a smile. 

Skye crossed her arms from her position balancing on her broom. “The one who breaks the record will get credit, though, right?”

“A victory for one is a victory for all,” Orion said mellowly, “and for that, we should celebrate on behalf of that one.”

Carewyn opened her eyes. She’d been keeping them closed and singing songs in her head, to try to help her ignore how much her leg was hurting and how much time was passing. When she glanced at Skye, she noticed a line of sweat appearing on her brow. 

“...How close are we to our goal, Orion?” asked Carewyn. 

“Only time will tell,” answered Orion.

Skye frowned sourly. “Right -- that was Carewyn’s question: tell us the time.”

“The moment is near,” said Orion with a twinkle in his eye, “but who’s counting?”

“MCNULLY!” Skye bellowed up at the stands in exasperation. “YOU’D BETTER BLOODY WELL BE COUNTING UP THERE, OR I SWEAR I’LL BEAT BOTH YOU AND ORION BLACK AND BLUE!”

The Beaters both sighed and shook their heads.

“Here he goes again,” muttered Shacklebolt.

“I think he’s gone even deeper into his own head since becoming Captain,” King agreed under her breath, sounding both rather tired and slightly amused. 

Carewyn turned to Orion, her almond-shaped blue eyes becoming a bit more serious. 

“Orion, a Niffler is able to chase gold so well because it can smell when it’s close,” she said in an oddly stern voice. “It’d probably be a lot easier for Skye and me to reach our goal if we also knew how close we were to it.”

The other Slytherins all blinked at the tiny third-year, taken aback by her assertiveness. Orion, however, only grinned. 

“Is not the journey a kind of treasure in itself, however?” he said. “After all...you and Skye have united so well in this endeavor, despite your apparent differences.”

“Yes,” granted Carewyn, her voice staying rather firm, “but if you want both of us -- and therefore all of us -- to break the record, then it stands to reason that both Skye and I should be of the same mind. And Skye and I would both like to know how close we are to bringing our team victory.”

“Right,” said Skye, a bit more impatiently. “So will you go ask McNully how much time is left already?”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s so fascinating, how full of fire you both are, and yet how differently colored your flames are.”

He looked up at the stands. When he caught McNully’s eye, he threw up his fist into the air in silent celebration.

“That’s it?!” said Skye eagerly, sounding immensely relieved. “A new record? Finally!”

She immediately sat down -- Carewyn, however, did not, and she was glad of it, for sure enough, Orion turned back around with a grin and said, 

“McNully’s just informed me that we’re in the final countdown!”

The team all covered their faces with their hands. Skye’s mouth dropped open. 

“What?!” she yelped. “Are you kidding -- I wouldn’t have sat yet!”

“Why did you?” Orion teased good-naturedly. “I thought you wanted to be the last one standing.”

Skye looked like steam was coming out of her ears. Carewyn fixed Orion with a rather reproachful look. 

“Orion, that wasn’t nice!” the much smaller girl scolded him the way she sometimes did Jacob when she was little. “Skye really had her heart set on beating your record.”

Orion’s amusement actually dimmed slightly. After a moment, his expression turned a bit softer upon both Skye and Carewyn. 

“Fortunately she did beat it,” he said, gesturing to Carewyn still balancing on her broom, “through her student.”

Carewyn raised her eyebrow, looking from Orion to up at McNully in the commentary box. “So the record has been broken now?”

“Indeed,” said Orion with a proud smile, exchanging a nod with McNully. “McNully-confirmed. Congratulations, team -- we did it!”

The team all breathed a sigh of relief, except for Skye, who still looked sour. 

“Carewyn did it, this time,” she said begrudgingly. “Congratulations, Carewyn.”

Carewyn lowered herself back down onto her broom, averting her eyes and massaging her burning thigh. “Thanks.”

She was proud that she was able to prove herself, after it’d taken her three whole hours just to figure out how to even balance like that in the first place...even if she didn’t love the fact that Skye was clearly bitter about it. 

“I must admit, though, Carewyn, I’m a bit disappointed,” said Orion. “Not once in all that time did you share any of your meditation songs with us.”

The team, including Skye, once again turned to look at Carewyn, surprised. Carewyn flushed. 

“Well, you said I could do it whenever we meditate together, as in the two of us,” she said rather huffily, closing her eyes and putting up her nose. “I didn’t want to break anyone else’s concentration.”

“A kind thought,” said Orion. “But perhaps next time, we can see if it actually helps our team’s focus. We’ll need all the focus and teamwork possible, in our match against Hufflepuff.”

~~~

The Slytherin team soon found themselves very happy with Orion’s choice. Carewyn not only was a very talented Chaser with excellent speed and aim, but she also seemed to know just how to talk to Orion on his terms and keep him a bit more grounded. And when she did end up singing during their practices, it actually turned out to be kind of a fun way to pass the time too. The players who’d been born in magical families like Skye in particular found it interesting to hear Muggle songs they’d never been exposed to before. 

“If you're all alone, When the pretty birds have flown, Honey, I'm still free -- Take a chance on me! Gonna do my very best, And it ain't no lie -- If you put me to the test, If you let me try...”

Carewyn did notice, however, that their practices were being watched -- and not just by Murphy McNully, either. 

“It’s not abnormal for other teams to want to get a peek at new players before a match, so they can get information they can use while building their team strategies,” McNully told her. “Most opposing players try to be subtle about it, but Ulrich Dylan -- that’s Hufflepuff’s Captain -- is not. Ravenclaw’s whole team isn’t either...especially Erika Rath -- she always makes it a point to get a good look at any new opponents. And well, admittedly, there’s nothing banning them from coming to watch our practices, so I guess they don’t feel the need to hide it.”

Carewyn considered this. “...Maybe they see it as a way to intimidate us too -- you know, being so confident in letting us know that they see us, and that they’re judging us.”

Kind of like how I felt a bit intimidated by Orion, while he was watching me fall off my broom for three hours. 

McNully nodded. “Not a bad theory! Ravenclaw in particular has already won the Quidditch Cup two years in a row, so they definitely have some cause to be confident. Just with their current line-up, I’d say there’s a 38% chance they’ll win the Cup again.”

Considering that was well over 1/4, Carewyn didn’t like those odds. Seeing the frown on her face, McNully smiled. 

“Don’t worry, Carewyn -- we do have one ace up our sleeve, when it comes to strategy. Only Slytherin knows how to do the Thimblerig Shuffle properly, as of yet -- therefore if we use it, I’d say we stand a 87.3% chance of throwing Hufflepuff off their game.”

Carewyn smiled. “That’s great!”

“Glad you agree!” said McNully. He then rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. “There’s...just one thing: Orion would have to actually use it, in the match. And well, we both know Orion -- the odds of him using it don’t go above 43%...” His face then burst into a smile. “...buuuut I’d say if you put in a good word with him, he might be more willing to listen!”

Carewyn looked confused. “Why me? You’re Orion’s friend too, aren’t you?”

“Of course! But Orion and I are still very different people. We have trouble speaking the same language sometimes. Honestly, I’d say I only understand what he’s trying to say about 72% of the time,” McNully added under his breath. “But you and he already seem to have a good rapport -- I reckon you bringing up the Thimblerig Shuffle to Orion would improve his odds of using it by a good 10%!”

Carewyn still wasn’t entirely sure, but she gave McNully a reassuring nod. “Well, I’ll try, anyway.”

~~~

Carewyn asked Orion to meet her before practice. She wanted to make absolutely sure that none of the other team’s players would be listening in. When Orion saw her approach, he smiled broadly. 

“Greetings, Breaker of Records,” he said amusedly. 

Carewyn frowned. The nickname reminded her unpleasantly of Andre’s “Cursebreaker” moniker for her. 

“Hi, Orion...thanks for coming early.”

Orion seemed to notice the shift in her expression -- it made his eyes soften slightly, becoming a bit more serious.

“We’re members of the same Quidditch family now, Carewyn,” he said gently. “Therefore my time is our time...and we can always find time to find balance together.”

Carewyn smiled slightly, feeling a bit reassured. “...Well, it’s less about balance and more about...well, about the match against Hufflepuff.”

“I think those two things are very much entwined,” said Orion.

“In a way, yes...but well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve had a lot of company in the stands, while we’re practicing. Like Hufflepuff’s Captain.”

Orion nodded. “I have seen him.”

“Well, McNully thinks he’s been stopping by to get a good look at me, and the rest of the team,” said Carewyn seriously. “That way he can use whatever information he can get about us in his team’s strategy. And...well, I know you don’t think strategical skills will determine our path...but it seems like we should use all of the strengths we have to our advantage, right?”

Orion crossed his legs around his broom so that he could actually take his hands off of it and cross his arms idly over his chest. 

“I agree,” he said quietly, but it seemed clear he was waiting for her to reach her conclusion, rather than being completely onboard. 

“Well,” Carewyn plowed on, “right now, we’re the only Quidditch team who knows how to do the Thimblerig Shuffle -- you know, the move McNully made up?”

Orion nodded slowly. “I remember. Quintessential McNully -- magical in its complexity, and complex in its magic.”

Carewyn gave a nod of her own. “It’s really a very clever move...it would definitely throw Hufflepuff off-balance, which could only help us out. And well, considering McNully’s your friend, I reckon it would mean a lot to him, if you considered using it.”

Orion raised his eyebrows rather coolly. “You clearly have been a very good friend to McNully already, speaking on his behalf. Though I don’t know if I appreciate him using the Slytherin team in a strategy to coax their Captain to his way of thinking.”

Carewyn felt her gaze slipping down to her broom, but she tried to hold her ground. “I really don’t think McNully was trying to pressure you, Orion. I think he just really wants us to win -- you to win. Planning things out is just how his mind works...and he is pretty good at it. I learned a lot about Quidditch from him.”

“You and McNully do both enjoy your plans and strategies,” said Orion. 

His face then spread into a wryer smile. 

“I, however, have a different strategy in mind -- the absence of strategy.” 

Carewyn wanted to be surprised, but she wasn’t. It still didn’t make the lump that settled into her stomach any less heavy. 

“...Then...you have no plan at all, for us to win?” she asked, a bit shakily. 

Orion’s black eyes twinkled. “Indeed. Let me show you.”

Within seconds, he’d easily leapt up onto his broom, so that he was balancing on it. Rather than before, though, he used both feet and actually surfed on the back of it, as if he were on a surfboard soaring through the air. Unlike a surfer on ocean waves, however, Orion was able to go completely upside down and around, balancing perfectly as if he and his broom were one and the same. 

Carewyn found herself unable to tear her eyes away. Orion did, in fact, look pretty damn cool. 

Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she followed his zigzagging moves around the Pitch -- and little by little, she found her lips spreading into an awed, open-mouthed smile. 

Her reaction made Orion grin. 

“Inspired Broom Surfing!” he called down to her. “That is its name, and that is what all shall call it.”

“Did you...did you invent this yourself?” asked Carewyn, disbelievingly. 

“It’s the product of inspiration, not invention,” said Orion. “I thought of it, and so I do it.”

He looped in several circles over Carewyn’s head with apparent ease.

“Surfing the skies distracts the competition. They, too, shall wish to surf like this...”

He weaved in a tight “S” shape that reminded Carewyn of a figure skater on ice. 

“...and yet, it also showcases one’s individual talent, and magnifies it! For most Quidditch players, even the best, never take the time to become one with their brooms -- but you can be an exception.”

Carewyn’s eyes and smile were very bright. ‘So you can psyche your opponent out, just with your confidence! And because you’ve got both hands open to hold the Quaffle, it’ll be harder for the opposing team to steal it too!’

“That’s...it’s brilliant, Orion!”

The praise definitely seemed to boost Orion’s ego. He flew completely upside down in a circle before coming to a stop beside Carewyn, grinning broadly. 

“Would you like to learn?” he asked.

Carewyn looked down at Orion’s Cleansweep and then down on her old rundown Shooting Star. 

“I definitely won’t be as good as you,” she said as offhandedly as she could. 

Orion’s black eyes sparkled. “We’ll see about that. Now come -- balance first.”

Carewyn followed his lead, balancing on her broom the way he did. 

“Forget technique,” he instructed, “forget form. Just be one with the broom.”

Carewyn started off slow, trying to weave. There were one or two points she felt like she was going to fall off, but she just managed to sweep her broom around enough to catch herself. Orion meanwhile swept around her in spirals to observe her. 

“Do not broom surf with intent. You should only ever do this when the feeling is right, not when logic dictates.”

Carewyn sped up a bit in her weaving, tilting her broom up so that she hovered a bit higher. She then tried to aim herself toward the hoops -- she charged ahead, and then looped back around in a “j” shape. Orion followed, shimmying around her. 

“Good,” said Orion. “Good -- let go -- ”

Carewyn urged her broom a little faster and Orion took off after her. Soon they were weaving around each other, Orion coming up and over her. Carewyn brought her arms up on either side of her to help her shift balance as if she was on roller skates, and she soon found herself laughing. This was fun!

“How...how am I doing?” she asked as she tried to catch her breath. 

Orion’s smile was broader than Carewyn had ever seen it, so much so that it made his black eyes squint slightly. “You look like you’ve been broom surfing like that your entire life, Carewyn Cromwell.”

They finally came to a halt in the middle of the pitch. Orion nimbly leapt back down onto his broom in a seated position again -- Carewyn took a bit more time to gradually lower herself back down. 

“Hufflepuff will not be able to take their eyes off you,” Orion said confidently. “And it’s while they are distracted that we will be able to rack up points.”

Carewyn adjusted her ponytail as best she could with one hand. 

“It really is brilliant, Orion,” she said kindly, “but...well, isn’t that a strategy in itself, that I’ll distract the Hufflepuffs, while you and Skye score points?”

“To some, perhaps,” said Orion. “But all of it will only be if the time and feelings are right. I don’t believe in planning things out too far ahead. None of us are Seers who can divine the future, so can we truly know whether any plans we make will fit in with how that future will take shape?”

“No,” granted Carewyn, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a plan and hope for the best anyhow. Or better yet, make a back-up plan, just in case things don’t go the way you want...”

Orion raised an eyebrow. “You and McNully believe Hufflepuff’s Captain came to watch our practices so as to make a strategy, correct? It stands to reason, then, that he’s channeling the Demiguise as best he can.”

“The Demiguise?” prompted Carewyn. 

“Trying to predict our own strategy in the upcoming match, through watching our interactions and team dynamics,” said Orion simply. “If, however, we go in with no strategy, there’ll be nothing for Hufflepuff to latch onto. That mystery works in our favor.” 

“But it also might make it harder for us to fly as one team,” Carewyn pointed out, trying to mirror Orion’s level tone but not quite succeeding due to her sincere concern. “I can Broom Surf now, Orion, but I can’t do it as well as you. Only you will likely ever be able to do it as well as you do...because no one could be exactly like you. And well...no one else sees the world quite like you do, either. It’s brilliant, really,” she added quickly. “It’s cool that you don’t act how people expect you to, or see the world like everyone else does. But...I don’t know, I guess it’d be a lot easier for the rest of the team to be on the same page as you, if you choose a book that you can read together. If that makes sense.”

Orion considered Carewyn for a moment, his unreadable black eyes trailing over her face.

“It does,” he said at last. 

He looked up at the stands. 

“It appears that our ‘guest’ has arrived,” he changed the subject dryly. 

Carewyn looked up. Sure enough, she saw the very tall, broad-chested Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, Ulrich Dylan, confidently striding across the stands and plopping himself down. He rested his arms on the edge of the stands as he stared down at them. Carewyn’s eyes narrowed up at him. 

“As has the rest of our team,” added Orion a bit more pleasantly. 

Sure enough, the rest of the Slytherins -- Skye in front -- flew out onto the pitch to join them.

“Hey, Orion,” greeted Crockett brightly. “Hey, Carewyn. Looks like you’ve both got a...‘broom with a view?’ Eh? Get it?”

Carewyn couldn’t help but wince, even though she tried to smile. 

“Will you lay off with the puns?” said Skye, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “You stretch farther with those than I do trying to reach the Quaffle...”

“But it’s part of what being Keeper is!” Crockett said playfully. “Everybody knows that...and you know I’m a Keeper! All the ladies say so.”

“All the ladies except us,” said Lucky, who’d covered her face with her hand. 

“And we have to be subjected to your jokes,” added King with a roll of her eyes. 

Skye shifted gears as she looked at Carewyn, offering her a determined look. “Ready for practice, Carewyn?”

Carewyn forced herself to look away from the Hufflepuff Captain in the stands, giving Skye a confident nod. “Mm-hmm.”

“The time has come for our time,” said Orion serenely. “Our first exercise will be helping each other through sabotaging each other. Our Beaters and Seeker will play as opposition to our Chasers and Keeper, so that we may practice saving and blocking goals.”

Carewyn looked at Orion with a teasing smirk. “Sounds like a plan.” 

Orion smiled very wryly at her in return. 

~~~

Orion asked the rest of the team to stay after practice for a team meeting. The team waited around so long for the meeting, though, that they soon occupied themselves with idle conversation. Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Captain had left over fifteen minutes ago, and Carewyn was glad to see him gone.

Skye stretched her arms over her head and sighed tiredly. “Ugh...I’m going to give Orion a good smack for this. Asks us to stay after for a team meeting, and then completely forgets to start it...”

“You shouldn’t hit him,” said Carewyn reproachfully, her voice coming out a bit whiny despite her best efforts. 

“Ah, come on, Carewyn, I don’t mean it like that,” said Skye with a shake of her head. She smiled. “So anyway -- what did I miss before? What were you and Orion doing here so early?”

Carewyn took her hair out of its ponytail, looping the red scrunchie around her wrist so she could redo it. “Orion taught me how to do this Quidditch move he created -- it’s called Inspired Broom Surfing...”

Skye grinned. “Ah yeah, that thing! I reckon Orion sees it as a future signature move for him, as a player. Don’t know if I’d go that far, but hey, it’s a fun way to waste time.”

“I don’t think it wastes time,” said Carewyn, frowning slightly as she put down her now much tidier ponytail. “I think it’s rather brilliant, actually. If we’re going to beat Hufflepuff, I reckon us looking confident and fearless to the opposing team would be pretty helpful.”

“The only thing we need to defeat Hufflepuff is Parkin’s Pincer,” Skye said confidently. “They might expect it, but they can’t stop it.”

Carewyn frowned. “But...if they do expect it, then they could still make a strategy to counteract it, right?”

“Not when we do it perfectly,” said Skye. “And you and Orion both know how to do it perfectly -- I’ve made sure of that.”

Carewyn couldn’t help but disagree, but decided not to push the issue. Instead she sighed. 

“Well, I guess in the end, it’s really up to Orion -- he is team Captain. I guess I just wish he’d consider making more of a plan...I mean, I always feel better whenever I’m doing something difficult, when I know I’m prepared and I’ve planned ahead.”

I don’t think I would’ve been able to deal with the Ice Vault at all, if I hadn’t practiced Incendio with Bill first. And it felt good knowing that he and Ben were there to help me too, since they both knew the spell really well. 

Skye’s face became a bit more serious. “Yeah, that’s really not Orion’s style.”

She brought a hand onto the smaller girl’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 

“Don’t worry your little red head about it, though,” she said with a smile. “Orion may be a weirdo, but he’s been known to make the right call, when it counts. You just focus on being a smashing Chaser, and let us more senior players worry about it. Nobody will be expecting the newest player to make any major decisions during the match anyway -- ”

“That’s it! That’s what we’ll do!”

Everyone gave a start. 

Orion, without anyone noticing, had settled himself overhead on his broom, sitting on it as if it were a swing. As he leapt back down to the ground, however, sweeping his broom out from under him with a flourish, he was grinning as excitedly as a kid at Christmas, his eyes on Skye and Carewyn.

“Orion?” said Carewyn, startled. “When did you -- ?”

“Is the meeting finally starting now?” asked Lucky. 

Orion brought his broom up onto his shoulders behind his head, still grinning broadly. “This is the team meeting. I simply stand back and observe my teammates interacting in an unstructured setting.”

Skye wrinkled her nose in revulsion. “Orion! Most people call that snooping!”

“I prefer the term ‘discovery,’” Orion said smoothly. “And sure enough, it put a spotlight on your idea...”

“My what?”

Orion turned to the rest of the team, his broad smile never shifting. 

“My teammates, we shall do the unexpected, to win our first House match. Hufflepuff, as well as everyone else, expects me to make the big decisions -- but instead, our newest player will.”

His black eyes and white smile were both gleaming with determination as he turned to Carewyn. 

“In this match, Carewyn Cromwell will call the shots.”

Everyone on the team was so taken aback that they all stared at Carewyn, and then Orion, and back. Carewyn herself had lost all of the color in her face.

W...what?

She couldn’t do anything except gawk at Orion in disbelief. She looked around at the rest of the team helplessly -- Skye looked almost more horrified than Carewyn, as well as angry. 

“What?! Orion, are you mad!?”

“Not in the least,” said Orion breezily. “I’m quite content with my decision.”

“Orion -- you can’t be -- ” started Shacklebolt.

But the Quidditch Captain had already turned around, his lips upturned in a rather proud smirk as he rested his arms over the broom on his shoulder.

“Our new leadership will not be discussed outside of the Changing Room,” he said levelly, “lest our opponents catch wind of it. And when next we fly and Ulrich Dylan’s eyes are on us, we will practice as we always have.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Carewyn, his black eyes twinkling. 

“You sang your commitment to us yourself, Carewyn. And now...we’ll take a chance on you.”

By the time Carewyn recollected herself enough to try to argue, Orion was already gone. 

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Chemistry — Sokka x GN!Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Words: 1.4k

Summary: you and Sokka are chemistry lab partners.

A/N: this was supposed to be a blurb but uh...yeah I couldn’t end it for some reason. Anyway, I just really felt the need to give our boy Sokka some love! Btw, reader is kinda judgy in this one heh

Masterlist

1203...1204...ah, room 1205! Found it!

Today was your first day of Chem Lab 101. You arrived at the lab a few minutes early, hoping to get a good spot.

When you entered the room, you realized that everyone else had the same idea. All the lab benches were taken except for the one in the way back. And, even worse, you noticed that all your classmates were already partnered up.

I guess I’m on my own. You were disappointed but hid it well, making your way to the back.

“We’re waiting on one more student. I’ll give them a minute or two, then we can begin,” your lab professor announced, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

While patiently waiting, you heard a ruckus outside. Soft, distant thumping grew louder and nearer. It was the sound of someone running, which came to a halt at your lab.

“I’m sorry I’m late, professor! We got let out of class late and it was on the complete opposite side of campus and—“

“Okay, okay,” the professor said, holding a hand up to stop their rambling. “Just find a place so we can get started.”

You peaked up from your phone to get a look at the person. It was a tall guy with short-ish, brown hair in a ponytail, wearing black joggers and a blue hoodie. You got the feeling that he was the lazy type.

Oh, spirits, I’m going to be stuck with the slacker now, aren’t I?

“Hey, is this seat taken?” He asked, pointing to the empty space next to you.

Well, what do you think, dummy? This is the only one left and you’re the last student. You smiled politely and shook your head, but on the inside you were rolling your eyes.

“Great!” He plopped his backpack on the lab bench. You went back to mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you noticed a hand in the corner of your eye.

“My name is Sokka, and you are...?”

You looked up at him. His blue eyes shined as brightly as his smile did.

He’s lucky he’s cute.

“[Y/n],” you replied before shaking his hand.

“Alright class, welcome to Chem Lab 101,” your professor began. “My name is Ms. Wu. Today, we’ll go over lab rules and class policies, but don’t think I’m not going to give you any work today! After this, I’ll have you all work in pairs on an experiment...”

“Good job today, class is dismissed.”

Your first lab wasn’t so bad after all. Sokka turned out to be a pretty decent partner (at least so far). He followed instructions well, but the true test is whether he’ll contribute anything to the lab report due next week.

Since high school, one of your biggest pet peeves was doing group projects. More specifically, group projects with people who do nothing. You would usually ended up doing all the work. It’s frustrating and unfair. So if this Sokka guy would turn out to be one of those no-good partners, you might just ask your lab professor if you can work on your own.

As you exited the lab, Sokka jogged up next to you.

“Sooo,” he started, “what are your plans for tonight?”

Okay, I know I said he’s cute, but I really don’t want to be hit on right now...

You narrowed your eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“I was just thinking we could get a head start and get that lab report done.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected.

“Yeah. It seems simple, I bet it wouldn’t take us long.” Sokka shrugged while he put his hands behind his head. You raised an eyebrow.

Not only did he want to start early, he also thought it would be a cakewalk. It was cocky, but you were glad to hear this from him (especially since you thought he was going to ask you out after meeting you only a couple hours ago).

“Sure, I’m free at 7,” you said.

“Bet. I’ll meet you outside of the library at 7! Gotta run!” And he took off, running down the hallway, probably to the other side of campus again.

“Hey!” Sokka called out to you, jogging up the front steps to the library.

You had arrived just a few moments ago and decided to wait outside for him. Unlike earlier today, he was on time.

After greeting him, the two of you wandered the library until you found an empty table to work at.

“You ready to ace this lab?” Sokka asked enthusiastically, pulling his laptop out of his bag.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied nonchalantly.

“What? You don’t like chem?”

You shrugged. “Eh...it’s okay. I don’t hate it, but it’s not my best subject.”

“Well, don’t worry. I like chem, and I’m pretty good at it. Not trying to brag or anything, buuuut, if you need help, just let me know!” He grinned and gave you a thumbs up.

Again, not what you were expecting. Maybe Sokka really wasn’t who you thought he was, and you judged him unfairly. It was a bad habit of yours, but at least you would keep your thoughts all to yourself.

You gave him a nod, and the two of you got to work.

“I got 4.73 grams of Zinc Nitrate,” you said, setting your calculator down to write your answer.

“Hmm...hold on, can I take look?” Sokka asked, leaning in close to look at your work. You gave him a quizzical look, trying to suppress the growing heat on your cheeks.

“You have an extra significant figure, and you forgot to convert your units here,” he said, pointing to the mistake in your work. His arm just barely grazed yours. You felt sparks go off, leaving goosebumps behind.

“The answer I got is 6.8 grams,” Sokka continued. He either didn’t notice the brush of contact or was just being cool about it. “I double checked it, I think it’s right.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” You tried to act natural. On the inside, you were flustered.

He really is good at this. And he’s cute. Wow, he is so cute. I lucked out big time today.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to help. I probably shouldn’t point out your mistakes like that...but everything else in your equation is right!”

“No, no, no, I just...uh...you know, I’m not good at chem, and, well, you’re smart, so...” you stuttered.

“Thanks,” Sokka chuckled.

“Not that I thought you were stupid!” You blurted.

“I know, I know. It’s because I look stupid, isn’t it? Yeah, my sister tells me that all the time,” Sokka joked, jotting down some notes before moving his eyes up to glance at you. The look sent shivers down your spine.

Spirits, he’s funny too. I’m done for. Hold on...how long have I been staring at him?

“Haha yeah,” you awkwardly laughed, “wait, I mean, no! You don’t look stupid at all!”

Sokka threw his head back. “What’s the matter? Chemistry got your brain fried?”

You plastered your hands onto your burning face. “I guess so...”

“You’re cute when you blush like that.”

Your eyes widened behind your hands, and your face became even redder than you thought possible.

“Umm...thanks. I think.” Your voice was muffled by your hands.

“And you’re funny too,” Sokka chuckled. “So I was going to ask you this when we finish, but now might be a good time. Do you want to grab dinner with me after this?”

You slowly dropped your hands. Your heart pounded against your chest. “Like...a date?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged in a very cool and collected way, “if you want it to be.”

“Oh...yeah, I’d like that.”

“Alright then, let’s power through this!”

The rest of the assignment went smoothly, save for those few times you got a little flustered when you caught yourself staring at Sokka. The two of you worked hard and finished fairly quickly.

And dinner afterward was nice. He took you to new restaurant that he had been meaning to try. You got to be with him in a more casual, non-academic setting, and you learned a lot about him. All the while, you thought about how lucky you were to get him as a lab partner.

Cute, smart, funny and just all around cool. I can’t believe I thought I was going to be miserable with him the second I saw him.

“You know, this was nice. We should do this again,” you said, exiting the restaurant while Sokka held the door open for you and you.

“Which? The study session? Or the date?” Sokka smirked.

“Both. Well...more of the date than the study session, but that’s only because I’m not good at chem.”

“I see. I’m that case, I’ll tutor you, and then take you on a date. How about that?”

“Deal!” You said with a truly polite smile this time.

[officialsimppage]

-fate-

Request: hellooo i was wondering if you could do (young) spencer meeting a young, pretty shy med student? (for example she’s 25 and he’s 30 or something) they could meet while investigating a crime scene and keep bumping into each other all the time, eventually getting together. i love fluff so it’d be great if it was cute and all :) hope you have a great day! ❤️

A/N:Hi! Thank you for requesting! I did the best I could and I hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of case, bad medical talk.

I start my day by opening up a school book. It’s my 3rd year in med school and I have an exam to study for. Yay. To find a way to distract me from my grueling task I turn on the news, hoping to find something interesting. There has been a murder behind Joe’s Bar in town. All we know is that she was a brunette female social worker. Stay safe out there. Holy shit. Joe’s Bar is only a mile from here. I turn off the tv, put on my shoes and head out to the bar to check out the crime scene.

I get to the bar and there is a crowd of people surrounding the police tape. I look and I see, Omg those people are from the freaking FBI! I see their jackets! I am snapped of my thoughts when someone bumps into me,

“Ah! Oh god, I am so sorry I’m just trying to get through.” the man says to me I look up and meet his eyes. Oh. My God. It has got to be the most handsome man I have ever seen. He is about 6’0- 6’1, amber eyes, soft smile, nice eyebrows and a great jawline. I look down and look at the jacket he is wearing. Oh my god he’s a FBI agent! A super cute one too! I always thought FBI agents were old white guys, or badass women. 

“No uh, um, it’s fine! It was my fault I wasn’t paying attention. And It’s really nice because it’s not everyday you bump into a handsome cute man.” I say, stumbling a bit and having trouble making eye contact with the man. Probably blushing a bit.

“Ah no it’s mine as well. I also think you are pretty as well. Really pretty by the way. Also sorry I’m just tired. I was woken up early to work this case. I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI.” he says scratching his head looking at me. All of me if I might add.

“Thank you and uh of course! You’re an FBI agent! That’s so cool by the way. I’m just a lame med student who’s 26 and barely has a life! But the Behavioral Analysis Unit, that sounds fancy.” I say sarcastically. “What’s your name?” I ask, hoping to get to know him.

“Uh um, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid! Uh also before you ask I am a doctor in mathematics, engineering, and chemistry. Also what you’re doing is- it’s amazing! You’re uh saving lives! Like me! Gah, sorry I forgot to ask what is your name?” He asks after mentally face palming himself. God it’s so cute.

“Im uh future Dr. Y/N Y/L/N! Nice to meet you!” I say while shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” he says, then somebody in another FBI jacket yells something that I can’t quite hear. “Ah sorry I uh have to go. Nice meeting you Y/N!” he says running away into a SUV. Wow, that was the most awkward and sweet bumping into someone ever. Like ever. I then decide I’ve had enough and start to walk back to campus after I take a detour so it can be a longer walk. Because I am dreading studying for the exam. 

It’s a day after the initial meet up with the cute Dr., and, it’s exam day. My exam is at 10 oclock so I decided to go to my favorite coffee shop to get a nice pick me up before I take an exam that will determine if I need to redo this year. And I am not redoing. I put on my hat because of the chilly Virginia air and I start walking to the coffee shop. When I get there it is decently quiet. I look around and I notice there is one man in line. He is wearing black slacks and a blue dress shirt with short curly brown hair. The man gets his drink and he turns around and- Oh my gosh. It’s the FBI agent from yesterday! 

“Dr. Reid! Hi oh my gosh! It’s you again! How’s it going?” I ask him. He looks up, and looks confused for a second then he smiles and responds with,

“Y/N! Hi! It’s nice to see you um how's it going? Ah sorry I need to answer you first um I’m doing, doing well. This case is not being closed anytime soon.” He stumbles a bit. He looks down at his coffee and looks up at me. He looks tired. Very, very tired.

“I’m doing well! Well, sorta. I have an exam today. Also, it's sad to hear that nothing is going well with these crazy murders.” I say with a chuckle. I look up at him and meet his eyes. Those sweet eyes. 

“You have kind eyes.” I say. Crap! Why did I just say that?

“I um, thank you.” he says looking at his feet fidgeting a bit. Ugh, he probably thinks I’m weird. He probably wants to run out of here and-

“Sorry I’m so awkward, I never really talk to women.” he says looking up at me and looking back down. Oh thank the lord it’s only bad social skills and not him hating my existence. 

“Nah it’s all right, I don't get out much as well.” I say looking up at him. “I’m a med student so all I focus on is how to dissect an aorta! Not talking to cute guys.” I say with a smile to him. He looks up and meets my eyes. And I felt no worries about my exam or anything at all! Then the moment is interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Ah, sorry I have to go. Good luck on your exam!” He says running out of the building. 

“Wait! Can I get your nu-!” damn it. Too late. He is already running down the block. I missed my chance. Yay. That’s always fun. I mean it’s totally like everyday you meet a cute FBI agent that’s your age and keep running into him and have great chemistry. Yeah totally that happens everyday. Gosh, I need to get my mind off him. I’m a med student and I have an exam. I can’t be thinking of cute boys right now. I then order my coffee, get it, and head back to campus to take my exam. 

I sit on a bench outside of my campus dreading 1:00, the time I get my exam answers back. What if I fail? What if I have to keep redoing and redoing and never get to be a doctor? Or a surgeon? What if I never get a good job. All these thoughts keep going through my head and it gives me a headache. I get up and I decide to take a walk around campus. I get around to the main building and. No, it can’t be. This is the 3rd time this week! How is this even possible,

“Y-Y/N?” Spencer says running to me. Oh god. Cute agent alert. 

“Oh hey Spencer! Wha- What are you doing here?” I ask him. Honestly being genuinely confused. I was wondering if he came to see me or if my roommate was like  a serial killer. Eesh- that would not be fun. I do not plan on ending up in a morgue anytime soon. 

“Oh we um found our guy and we were just looking for details on him. He was a janitor here.” He says looking at me. 

“Oh god he worked here? Like I could have seen him before?” I say, shocked. I could have walked past a serial killer. Wow. 

“Yeahh probably,” he says then he looks up at me and sighs. “Look Y/N, I think you’re really pretty. Andd I really like you and I’ve been to awkward to tell you because I think you’ll reject me because I’m lanky and-” I pull him in and I kiss him. Kiss him. I kiss a freakin FBI agent. Its soft, letting him know I get the memo. We pull away smiling and he asks,

“Would you like to uh um, go on a date? Tomorrow? At 7? I- I can pick you up!” He says hopefully, praying to the gods I say yes.

“Yes Spencer, that would be lovely.” I say pulling him in for another soft kiss. We pull away with our noses touching and I say,

“I think the universe wanted us to date so that’s why we kept seeing each other.”I say smiling.

“Yeah it probably was fate.” he says staring into me eyes.

“Yeah, maybe it was.” 

[bqstqnbruin]

Teach me something 3

The Bruins winning the series means another part of this fic (I’m so sorry to my canes followers [if I even have any wait do I?] I still love you pls don’t hate me but as someone from Connecticut we’re still bitter that the Whalers left and went to Carolina in the first place again don’t hate me)

Will I ever write the requests that y’all have sent in? Who knows (JK you know I will)

I hope you like this! 

ALSO a warning, this partially takes place in the hospital

Read the other parts:  part 1 // part 2 // part 4

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

“Good morning, everyone, and welcome to Chemistry class!” you say in what was probably perceived as an overly chipper tone, but you were genuinely excited to start the new school year, especially after missing the end of last year. “I’m Mrs. Tkachuk, and I know that most of you probably hate ice breakers, especially since you’re going to be doing them all week, but today is just going over the syllabus, getting to know me, and then we’re going to spend the rest of class doing a little chemistry-related ‘get to know you’ activity.” Some of your students roll their eyes, some even groan. “It’s chem class, guys, what did you expect?” 

You spend the first part of the morning with the boring stuff, the class expectations, listening to them groan over the fact that you give what weren’t technically pop quizzes, but were something very similar, having them break into chatter when you said you gave one partner test per quarter, and that they got to pick which unit was the partner test expect during the third quarter, and then have no reaction at the chemistry jokes that you made throughout the class. 

“So, do you guys have any questions for me?” you ask, glancing over at the clock. You had half the period left to go through your little PowerPoint, then have them do their activity. One of the boys in the back of the room raises his hand. “Robbie, right?”

“Yeah, are you related to Matthew Tkachuk?” A few of the boys around him start to murmur over whether or not you were, definitely excited by the possibility, especially since they were all wearing jackets for the hockey club they were part of.

“I meant about the syllabus, but I’ll answer that in a sec, ok? Any questions about the syllabus before I tell you about myself?” you ask the class, none of them raising their hands in hopes of knowing whether or not Matthew was related to you. God, you hoped not. “Ok, then.” 

You turn on the projector, the screen filled with a short PowerPoint that you showed every year, updating every so often. You started telling them about where you were from, where you went to school, even that you used to dance with the Stampede. “So, I’m not related to Matthew Tkachuk,” you say, the boys seemingly deflated by that fact. You switch slides, a picture of you and him on the ice after their most recent Stanley Cup win, the one from your wedding that was your phone background for so long, one of you, Matthew, and your son, Oliver when he was a year old, and the newest one, the two of you with you a now three-year-old Ollie, and your newborn daughter, Tessa. “He is my husband. You might have heard that I was out for the last two months of last school year because of maternity leave, and I’m also surprised that you didn’t already know I was married to him considering he’s come with me to school events plenty of times. Maybe you’ll even get to meet him.” 

The rest of the class goes fine: the students making ‘their elemental symbol,’ which they surprisingly like doing; their initials were the symbol, and they decorated it with things they liked and things that represented them. You told them you would be making a class periodic table on the windows behind them, leading to all the hockey boys begging to be together so they could do one coherent background image. You couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of how Matthew would get his friends to do the same thing if given the opportunity. 

Every period brought up the same questions about you and Matthew: the girls wanted to know how you met (you met at a bar but that seemed a little inappropriate to tell your high schoolers, saying you met at a charity function was what you went with), how’d you come up with the names for your children (weird, but fine: you came up with Oliver just because you’ve always loved the name, Matthew came up with Tessa because it was the closest name to his sisters that he could think of without actually naming her Taryn as well, and he adores his sister, so why not?), the boys asked how much of his team you knew (all of them), how many games you went to (as many as you could but it was hard with children), can you get them free tickets (no). Teachers weren’t supposed to share a lot about their personal life, but the students could probably find enough of this information out on social media, even though you kept your own accounts private. 

You have one more period before the end of the day, luckily you had a prep time, even though there wasn’t much to do since it was the beginning of the year. While browsing through your roster for your last class, your room phone starts to ring. 

“Chucky’s room,” you answer, using the nickname your husband’s teammates used for him.

“Hi, Y/N, your husband called. He said he needed you to call him back and that it was urgent. Margot said she would cover your last class,” the school secretary says from the other end.

“What? Is everything ok?” you ask, trying to stretch the chord of the phone long enough to reach your phone at your desk. 

“He didn’t say, he just said to call him. I’m assuming you have to leave, so you’re good to just go.”

You hang up, starting to panic. What happened to him? What about Ollie? What if it was Tessa? Oh my god, what if something happened to all three of them? You start to panic, preparing for the worst as you dial Matthew’s number and pack up your bag as fast as you can. “Babe, what’s wrong?” 

“You need to meet us at Alberta Children’s Hospital as soon as you can, ok?” you hear him say, the same panic in your voice that you started to feel. 

“Matthew, what happened?” you say, Margot standing in your doorway, sensing your panic. ‘What’s going on?’ she mouths to you as you hold up a finger to her, waiting for Matthew’s answer.

“It’s Oliver, don’t worry, just get here, please. I need you.” He hangs up before you can say anything else.

“Telling me don’t worry and get to the children’s hospital because of Oliver in the same sentence is oxymoronic,” you say to Margot, not really knowing what else to tell her, “Just tell them they can hang out or something, not to get too loud. Hand out the syllabus, tell them don’t worry about it because I’ll see them soon. Tell them I’ll be emailing them tonight so to check their school accounts, but I had a family emergency,” you spit out to her as she just nods along.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but he’ll be alright. Let me know if you need anything.” 

She brings you in for a hug, trying to calm your nerves even though it didn’t really work. You run out of the door right before the bell rings, students swarming around you as you try to beat them down the staircase. The upperclassmen who had study halls this period were also allowed to leave, a privilege none of them had lost yet since it was the beginning of the year, which means you had to battle with them to get out of the single entrance your school had. 

You were shaking, trying to plug in the directions to the hospital as you were walking to your car, praying that it would save you some time to just get the hell out of there and go see what happened to Oliver.

Why didn’t Matthew tell you what was wrong? How bad was it that it could only be said in person? Or was it something trivial and he just didn’t want to say it over the phone? Either way, why didn’t he tell you? What was wrong with Oliver? Your mind was racing the entire drive there, nothing that you could think of or listen to could take your mind off the fact that your husband was waiting in the hospital with your son, for who knows what reason? 

You rush into the hospital, bag on your arm, hands shaking, ready to cry and just wanting to find your son. “I’m looking for Oliver Tkachuk? T-k-a-c-h-u-k. I’m his mother,” you frantically say to the lady at the desk. 

“Sorry, I can’t give you any information right now, the doctor is still with him,” she says, trying to give you a reassuring smile. 

“Is there anything you can tell me? Where he is? If his father is here? Where his father is? Anything about how long it will be?” you start to spit out, a constant stream of panic running through you, “Sorry, sorry, that was a lot. Are you sure there’s nothing you can tell me about my son? If I can where my husband is can I go to him?”

You didn’t mean to panic at her, if that was a thing, but it just kind of happened anyway. “Yes, if you can find him that’s fine. If you take a seat right now, I can tell you something as soon as I find out if you’re still here,” she says, reassuringly. You do as she says, digging out your phone from the bottom of your bag to see if Matthew has sent you anything.

‘Hey, I’m in the emergency waiting room, where are you?’ you send him, just in case he’s in the middle of something with a doctor. Your phone buzzes immediately, him telling you where to find him. You get up, the lady at the desk nodding at you, probably assuming you were going to wander to find Matthew. 

“Y/N!” you hear Matthew call once you get up to the floor. You run to him, the panic in his voice pushing you to the verge of tears. He takes you in for a hug. You can feel his body shaking.

You look up at him, tears filling his eyes. “What happened?” 

He buries his head in your shoulder, the two of you standing in the middle of the hallway, probably in the way. “We were outside playing after lunch and I turned my back for two seconds because Tessa was crying and then I look and Oliver is crying and there’s blood everywhere because he fell, and,”

“Matthew, Matthew,” you say, trying to get him to stop. 

“I feel so bad. I can’t believe I let our son get hurt. And then I couldn’t get a hold of you because your phone was off and I just panicked and brought him here” You can feel tears soaking through your shirt. 

“Babe,” you say, pulling him off your shoulder. You’ve never seen him so upset before. He looks just like Oliver did when you told him he couldn’t have dessert before dinner. “Kids get hurt. That happens. He’s probably going to need some stitches, yeah?”

“I can’t believe I let this happen,” he says, the two of you walking to go sit down. 

“You were watching two small children at once. It was going to happen at some point, and it could happen to either of us,” you tell him, trying to get him to calm down. “There is no way you never busted your lip open or something like that when you were a child. He just takes after his father.”

“Oh no,” he says, the color nearly draining from his face as he realizes Ollie was practically going to be his mini-me.  

“Speaking of: where is our daughter? I really hope you didn’t leave her alone.”

“Oh, god, no. She’s with Rory.” You look at him, shocked that he would leave her with Rory of all people. “Ok, she was the only one within a ten-mile radius that I would trust and could reach. Out other option was Johnny. Do you trust him with our newborn daughter?” 

“Point taken,” you say, suddenly thankful for Rory. “Has the doctor said anything?”

“Just that it’s going to be a while and that he’ll come get us when he’s ready to,” Matthew says, looking down at his hands. 

You take his hand in yours. “Ollie will be alright. I promise.” 

“How are you so calm? How am I the one who’s freaking out? God, being a parent has made me soft.”

You can’t help but laugh: his last game of the season he got flat out ejected from the game because he was fighting. If that’s soft, you don’t want to see him any other way. “If both parents are freaking out that never ends well. So I’m just freaking out internally,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He kisses the top of your head, “God, I’m lucky to have you.”

“I know.” You look up at him and smile, him rolling his eyes at your modesty. “Ollie’s going to be fine. This happens to kids all the time.” 

The two of you sit there in silence, watching doctors and nurses walk by, parents and siblings going around probably trying to find their child. Matthew seems to have calmed down, a little at least. You both knew Oliver was going to be fine, but shit, was it scary to not know anything. 

You lean down to your bag, digging through it to find your computer. You might as well start drafting an email to your students now while you have time. “What are you doing?” Matthew asks, curious as the family picture you used in your slideshow pops up as your lock screen. 

“I have to email my last class. They should be out of school by now and I told Margot to have them watch for an email from me.” Matthew looks almost angry, but why? “You should come into school one day if we can get Rory to watch the kids; the boys went crazy when they found out we were married, I think they would love it if you did an experiment with them.”

“We’re literally in the hospital for our son, and you’re thinking of your students, instead?” he snips, his face starting to turn red.

You weren’t thinking of your students instead of Oliver, you were thinking of them and Oliver, just not at the same time. “Sorry that in addition to our two children, I also have, what, four class rosters of thirty students each? And my junior homeroom class? And a study hall section? My entire life is occupied by children, so sorry if I have more than just ours on my mind.” You knew this anger was coming from his worry of Oliver, but that doesn’t mean he has the right to take it out on you. “Matthew, I’m just writing them an email, and then I don’t have to worry about them until tomorrow.”

“I mean, it’s getting a little annoying that I have to stay home with the kids all day while you’re at work. I couldn’t even reach you because you don’t check your phone, and then the school said I would have to wait to hear from you until you have a free period because they couldn’t find anyone to cover your class. Do you even care about Oliver and Tessa?” He can’t believe he just said that to you. He knows your two kids mean more to you than he probably does. Before he can say he’s sorry, you start. 

“Ok, four things. One: we talked about me returning to teaching and both agreed that it was something that we were comfortable with me doing. You only have to stay home with the kids for another week before Tessa starts at daycare and Oliver starts preschool. Two: you know that I can’t have my phone out during the day. It’s not like I can call you in the middle of practice or during a game, so you being irritated about that is ridiculous. Three: the school being understaffed isn’t really my fault. Yes, they were wrong to not get a hold of me, but that, again, is not my fault. And four: the only reason you are acting like this is because you are worried about Oliver, which I understand, because, and this may shock you: I am, too. But that does not mean that you have the right to turn your worry into anger, and then take it out on your wife,” you say, surprising yourself by staying calm the entire time. “So if you excuse me, I’m going to go call Rory and check on Tessa, unless that’s something you think you should do because maybe I don’t care enough about my own children.” 

You get up and go to the end of the hallway before he can say anything. “Hey, Rory, it’s me. How’s my girl doing?”

“She poops. So much. Did you know babies poop this much? I think I’ve changed her diaper three times since Matthew dropped her off.” Maybe Johnny would have been better than Rory, but then again, you could see Johnny using a curtain as a diaper a la Uncle Jesse and Joey in Full House. 

“Yes, remember, Tessa is my second baby. Oliver pooped a lot, too,” you say, laughing. 

“I don’t remember pooping this much as a child,” you hear her say, obviously switching her phone to speaker. “Like I see why you love because she is just so cute,” you hear Tessa laughing as Rory is probably tickling her or making a stupid face as she does baby talk to her, “But the poop!” “Ror, you wouldn’t remember pooping as a child, you don’t start forming explicit memories until you’re two, but implicit memories when you’re seven. But other than the poop, how is she doing? Is she giving you any other trouble?”

“You know too much about science for a teacher,” she says, you rolling you eyes at the comment, “But, nah, she’s great. She’s probably going to nap soon? Matthew had mentioned that she normally naps around now?”

“Yep, she’s typically asleep when I get home, so put her down for a nap and keep an eye on her, please. I don’t need both my children in the hospital.” 

“Well, who else would you trust with your child?”

“Most other people I know.”

“Johnny?”

“I said most.” You finally hang after she reassures you four times that Tessa is fine with her, telling her that one of you will call when you’re leaving the hospital, whichever parent doesn’t have Oliver will go to Rory’s, and that you’ll text her with updates on Ollie if you have any. 

You walk over to Matthew, sitting in the chair with his head in his hands, his fingers intertwined with his curls. He looks up when you sit down, the look on his face saying that he was sorry for what you said. 

“You are the best mother our kids could have,” he says.

“Mr. and Mrs. Tkachuk?” a man in a white coat, stethoscope and clipboard stands in front of you. You stand up and go to him, both of you hoping for good news as Matthew puts his arm around you. “Your son is fine; he just needed stitches and a cast on his left arm. If you follow me I can take you to his room.”

“A cast? You said there was just blood,” you look at Matthew, wide-eyed and unsure if you were confused or shocked.

“There was blood! I don’t know, you’re the science teacher, you should know this stuff,” he says, trying to defend himself.

“You do understand that biology and anatomy are different from chemistry, right? Like, I love you so much, but how do you know nothing about science? I never stop talking about science.”

He just shrugs as the two of you stand outside the door of the room your son was in. “I went to school in America, babe.” You roll your eyes as he takes your hand. “Ready?” 

You nod, both of you walking into the room to see your so sitting on the bed. He looks so small with the blue cast on his arm, stitches stretching across his chin. “Mommy! Daddy!” he screams, “Look! It’s blue!” 

You can feel yourself start to cry at the sight of your son hurt, even though his curls are going in every direction as he tries to jump off the bed to show you his cast. “Oh sweetie, your chin,” you say, tilting his head up so you can get a better look at it.

“Aren’t they cool?” he screams again. “And look! They gave me a lollipop!” he holds up the yellow candy in your face, you not even noticing that he had to begin with.

“He really is your son,” you say, looking at Matthew as Oliver squirms around on the bed. 

“The stitches can be taken out in five days, so you’ll need to bring him back here to have them removed. Then for his arm, I’ll want a check after two weeks, but it probably won’t be coming off for five to seven,” the doctor starts spitting out. He hands Matthew a piece of paper from his clipboard, Matthew looking at it like it’s written in a foreign language before stuffing it in your bag. “You can take your son home, just sign the discharge papers,” he finishes, leaving the room.

“You sign the papers and get Tessa from Rory’s, all take Ollie home?” you say to him, picking up Oliver in your arms. 

Matthew nods, kissing Oliver on the head. “Daddy, can we have ice cream for dinner?” 

You both laugh, Matthew’s mini-me giving you the same puppy dog eyes that Matthew gives you when he wants something. “Only if Mommy is ok with it, but only because you got hurt.”

“We’ll get some ice cream on the way home, bub,” you say, kissing Oliver on the cheek as he squeals with joy. “See you at home, babe? With Tessa.” 

“See you at home.”