#do teachers think we have all the time in the world and that assessments and reports grow on trees bro?

[saerotonins]

in a world full of boys, he's a gentleman

ft. nanami kento x fem!reader

— in which kento unintentionally proves how much of a husband material he is.

content warnings: fluff, smut, light angst, suggestive, making out, nanami kento being a certified hubby, fiancée!kento, weddings, mentions/implied slut-shaming, reader has horrible relatives, reader is described to be non-traditional, riding, p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, choking, hair pulling, curses still exist but nobody dies (yay!) and geto is mentally fine and a teacher at jujutsu tech <33, im so in love with him, some can be considered bare minimum and subtle but idc if he does it he's the standard, kento loves it when you're checking him out, just kento being a gentleman, kento is so in love with you, you you and you in his mind, reader is just as the same btw, corny ass vow (idk how to write one srry)

wc: 5591 (holy shit lol)

note: im!! so!! head!! over!! heels!!! with!! this!! man!! (it's really not that obvious, right?) he's so dreamy he deserves a lot of kissy kisses and a ticket to malaysia <33 also!! just realized this is my first piece for 2024 tehehe happy new year, everyone! 🎀🎆

best enjoyed with: slut! - taylor swift

that time when you both went out for a picnic

the sunset paints the sky with the most vibrant colors as you and kento bask in each other's presence and sit on a picnic blanket, surrounded by the quiet sways of the green grass, accompanied by some people who decided to hang out around the vicinity.

it's one of those days that kento is blessed by once in a blue moon break from being a jujutsu sorcerer. kendo's always grateful to have this kind of day because it would mean that his hands would spend their time stealing soft touches against your skin instead of fighting curses.

a faint clink can be heard when you and kento toast your glasses together, half filled with your favorite champagne. it's a tad bit sweet to kento's liking as he is not good with sweets, but he opted to bring it to your picnic instead of his favorite whiskey because he knows you love it. 

kento watches you put your lips on the champagne flute and drink your sweet alcohol with glee. he takes a small sip from his as he stares at you with admiration. 

satisfied with your drink, you set it aside on your coaster as you lean your head on kento's shoulders. "such a lovely day, isn't it?" you say while you close your eyes, soaking in the remaining rays of the sunshine before it sleeps, allowing the night to take over the sky.

kento hums in approval as he puts his free hand on your head, giving it gentle and loving pats as he rests his head against yours, but not before giving you a quick peck. "we should do this more often," 

"i agree; you should ditch gojo more and spend more time with me," you joked, and you heard your fiancée chuckle, "that wouldn't be so professional of me, darling," it's your turn to let out a chuckle.

"it's gojo; being professional is already out of the window." 

"you're right, maybe i should," kento jested back.

the two of you just sat in comfortable silence until a slightly strong gust of wind blew in your direction. caught by the shock of it all, you close your eyes and hold your sundress down to avoid flashing the strangers. but before you could even do it, a strong pair of arms wrapped around you.

kento had covered you, so any speck of dust blown by the wind wouldn't be able to get into your eyes. your sundress is also held down by his knees between your legs. when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by your fiancée's face close to yours, assessing you. you suddenly feel your stomach tumble and fill with butterflies.

"are you okay? didn't get anything in your eyes?" he says gently, eyes observing you with worry. you give him a slight nod, "mhm, i'm fine kento, how about you?" kento answered with a hum as he tried to fix your dress and some parts of the picnic blanket that was slightly blown away by the wind.

"i think that's the cue for us to pack up, or do you want to stay for a while?" kento asks you while he starts to pack up some of your stuff into the picnic bag. "we should stay until the sun completely sets, it's a shame to leave while the sky looks pretty." 

kento nods and finishes packing before he sits beside you, looking at the view. he then makes your head lean on his shoulders once again, his hands caressing the top of your head. "yeah, i agree, the sky looks pretty." he states.

he feels you nod and continues, "but you're prettier to look at," he says as he looks down at you and to his surprise, he meets your eyes on him. "i could say the same to you, kento," you say before capturing his lips against yours.

kento smiles on your lips before reciprocating your gesture, slightly tasting the remnants of your sweet champagne earlier. 

and at that moment, he thought, it doesn't matter if his tongue tasted something so sweet, as long as it's from your lips.

that time when you went christmas shopping

the mall filled with bustling crowds is not a perfect way to spend time with your fiancée. but when this is the only time your schedules align to go for a last-minute shopping to buy gifts for your loved ones, you don't really have a choice.

kento especially noticed how much you were on edge today despite being excited to buy gifts for everyone especially his mentees. you weren't the type to enjoy a busy crowd, so he knows how to elevate your stress.

store after store, he gave you every opinion he had (that you asked for) ever so gently and thoroughly but not too much to overwhelm you since you're technically a ticking time bomb now. kento was attentive at every store you went to and immediately picked out gifts you thought were best to give. he stood up in the busy and long line as he let you sit on the lounge chair present in the store. 

by the time you're done shopping, he carries all the bags and refuses to give you any (even the small ones). and when you insist, he gives you an offended look, telling you he can manage. 

while you're walking to leave the mall, your stares don't go unnoticed by your fiancée as he sees you mindlessly gawking at his arms that flex every time he has to fix the bags while walking. 

and that makes carrying your shopping bags even more worth it to him.

that time when you got drunk at a new year's party

gojo has set a new year's party that includes everyone in jujutsu tech in one of his vacation homes in japan. it was supposed to be a reasonably small party but this is gojo satoru we're talking about; he's going to be extra about anything and everything.

the party is semi-formal and requires everyone to dress up nicely. kento does not enjoy parties, but seeing you dress up in a pretty dress that enhances your assets makes him think that attending this event has benefits too.

the party wasn't uneventful per se, but despite the semi-formal wear that everyone was rocking, the event itself was casual. the house was filled with laughter and noise, mainly from the students and everyone else sharing stories and conversing. an hour or two into the party, you and kento decided to part ways as you go on your way to interact with gojo, geto, and shoko.

kento trusted you enough to be alone with them so he opted to talk with some of his colleagues whose presence calms him (obviously not gojo). he spent his time talking with higuruma, sharing ideals and mundane stuff they both enjoyed doing. it was a calming conversation for both men, who wanted peace and tranquility.

"there's this store that sells rare vintage vinyl; i think you'll love to shop there," higuruma suggests as they talk about collecting vinyl, a hobby they share. kento was about to reply, but even before he opened his mouth, he heard a very loud— 

"nanamin!" which made both men turn their heads in the direction where the sound came from.

the voice no doubt belonged to itadori, his face painted with concern as he rushed to kento's area. "what is it itadori?" he asked the young man the moment he arrived while panting.

"your wife! she's—" before itadori can even finish his sentence, kento's already sprinting to where you are, itadori following suit.

kento doesn't need to know what he needs to say; the worry on itadori's face, accompanied by your name, is enough for him to look for you.

turns out you're drunk of your mind. 

when kento arrives in gojo's kitchen, it's just you and him having a very drunk and heated argument about whether cereal or milk comes first.

"no! that's so stupid, cereal should come first, think about it you stupid idiot, if you pour milk first, you'll miss the chance to fill the bowl with so much cereal!" your fiancée sees you standing on gojo's kitchen island alongside him, slurring your words as you sway the glass of wine in the air, threateningly spilling as you keep on moving.

gojo scoffs at your argument, "maybe t'was the point! it's all about ratio, how else can you enjoy cereal when there's too much cereal and little room for milk!" he barks back, holding a—

is that a massive cup of sunrise tequila? no wonder he got so drunk, kento thought as he sighed.

"there's no such thing as ratio for you, gojo! you're the same person who adds too much pineapple on pizza that it becomes disgusting!" you shouted at gojo's face as you continuously pointed at his chest with your index finger.

across the kitchen island stood geto and shoko with unamused faces, looking like they were just waiting for everything to die down on its own. kento sighs and asks them, "did they have an alcohol-drinking battle again?" and all they reply is a solid nod.

"gojo got too competitive and drank that sweet poison, which led to this... argument," shoko adds, looking at both you and gojo incredulously. "they immediately started gulping down the alcoholic drinks right after midnight," geto said, a chuckle threatening to leave his lips.

"please help me break them up," your fiancée kindly pleads to geto and shoko. they immediately showed empathy to their former junior and decided to hold gojo back together while kento held onto you.

it took almost half an hour to break you and gojo apart, not to mention the commotion and your silly drunk discussions that blew out of proportion because the both of you are just so passionate and no one would back down without a fight. after successfully separating the two of you, kento immediately guided you away from the party and to your car, not without leaving shy goodbyes to the people he would face along the way.

the drive back home was thankfully not chaotic, but it was definitely filled with your drunken chatter as you slur words kento can barely make out.

getting you to your shared home was relatively easy; you were patient enough to let kento walk you off to the front door and remove your heels before gently placing you on the couch. 

he was about to let go and grab some water until you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to your face; kento felt his heart race. "hey there," you whispered against his lips, distance threateningly close.

kento could smell the alcohol on your breath, probably a mixture of beer, wine, and then some. still, he couldn't bring himself to care when he knew your lips would probably taste slightly sweet. "have you ever been this handsome, kento?" you ask, your voice dripping honey despite being out of your mind, trapped in your own drunken bubble.

"maybe that's just the alcohol's doing, darling," he jokes.

"no no, i think i already saw this face years ago."

"really?"

"really. you look even more handsome now, you should give me a kiss," you say as you pucker your lips, slowly leaning towards his.

kento couldn't even say no even if he didn't want to (not that he will ever not want to kiss you). he decides to give you a swift peck just to entertain your shenanigans, but when he is about to let go, you deepen your kiss, tightening your wrap on his neck, forcing him to lean forward and straddle you with one of his thighs digging on the couch.

he can taste the red wine you had recently drunk, and he's confident he can get drunk with your lips alone. kento's mind went hazy as he moved against your lips languidly, letting himself drown in your kiss. he wanted this to last longer, even take it further, but alas, kento has always been a man of self-control, so he lets go of you, not before giving you one last kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen.

the whole night, kento tends to your every need that you couldn't do. he had prepared you a warm bath, removed your makeup, and did your skincare for you that he knows at the back of his hand. he had lathered you up with your favorite lotion, dried your hair (not without a fight since your drunk self found the hair dryer too loud), and kissed you good night before tucking you to bed, leaving a pack of aspirin and a water bottle on your nightstand before sleeping.

the morning after, you woke up to the smell of your favorite soup and your fiancée insisting on feeding you even though you told him you could manage.

you make sure to pay him back really well that same day.

that time when you attended a family reunion 

it's always this dreaded day you always wanted to avoid but couldn't. 

you would rather stay home with kento rather than attend a gathering that will just piss you off, but your mom had pleaded with you to come— "so that they won't gossip about you," she said.

you know that's a lie; whether or not you attend, they'll always find a way to talk about you anyway; there's no winning. but since you wouldn't want to let your mother down, you suck it up and prepare for it regardless.

what makes you nervous is that this is the first time Kento has come along— or more like you let him come along. 

you had heard complaints from your relatives about not meeting kento when he was still your boyfriend, and now that you're engaged, you should've at least let them meet him. you begrudgingly agreed, but it doesn't mean you're not nervous.

your relatives have been annoying throughout your life, always meddling with things they shouldn't even care about. 

it always started with asking about your weight change, school activities, grades, chosen course, and relationships, not to mention the ever-so "you should do better" undertone in all aspects of your life. and for some reason, always making you feel small is included in their mandatory list to piss you off. 

you know that once you let them meet your now fiancée, they would bombard him with questions and annoy you and him for the rest of the day. you only keep up with the tradition because your mother is too kind to tell them off, laughing awkwardly when they berate you and always giving you a silent apology through her eyes.

it wasn't her fault; you just wish she'd shut them off.

kento had noticed your change of behavior ever since this morning while preparing in your home. you had been silent and spacing out, only replying when he had finally snapped you out of your daze. he doesn't know what the deal was with your relatives, but all he knows is that your mood drastically changes whenever they're involved in the conversation, and that's enough for him to tell you that they're not really good news.

"are you sure you want to go, honey? we can always drive back home," kento said with worry, cutting through the thick tension in the car. "it's fine; I can handle it; we're almost there anyway. it would be a waste if we turn around," you tell him with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Kento replied with a small smile, taking your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles, "just know that i'll always be there, alright?"

you nod, feeling slightly relieved, before looking out the window to drink in the scenery as you pass by. 

it turns out you can't handle it.

you thought your relatives would be a little tamer because you have someone over, but you were totally wrong.

ever since you both arrived, your aunties had surrounded kento and bombarded him with questions. from his age, degree, university he graduated from, where you met, wedding date, monthly income (which is incredibly embarrassing), to how many children he plans to have.

most of it wasn't a problem, but your blood boiled the moment they asked about what he saw from you.

this would've been such a sentimental moment if it weren't for your auntie's sarcastic tone, as if the question was meant to belittle you, to make you feel like you're not worthy of him.

when kento was about to open his mouth just to pour out how much he loves you and how he's lucky to have you, one of your aunties butt in with their loud mouth.

"well, she isn't really a traditional partner isn't she?" she said, a smug smile forming on her ugly and wrinkly face. "yeah, i mean, i assume with a fine man like you wouldn't be attracted to someone like her," another one added.

kento clenches his fists as he felt fury fire inside of him. how dare they think about you like this and talk about you like this, like you weren't just in front of him, seething in pain and anger.

he was about to give a proper and calm response when your uncle had spoken, "besides, she dresses like a... you know," then an ugly cackle. "a what?" your auntie had joined, taunting him to say the word.

"oh, you know, like a sl-"

that was the final nail in the coffin. his words are cut off when kento angrily smashes both palms on the table, seemingly angry, forming an angry red aura you have never seen. "i've had enough," he started, while all eyes are on him, including yours.

"i will not allow any single one of you to disrespect my wife any longer. i will not tolerate your old and immature ways of talking about her. i've been patient enough, but this bullshit is something I will not allow," kento's vulgar choice of words has made everyone's eyes at the table grow wide, shocked.

"i would say this respectfully, but you guys weren't to my wife either, so please, i'll say this once," he inhales, trying to calm himself down. 

"fuck off," kento declares before taking your hand and exiting the venue.

during the walk to the car, he had been slowly calming himself down. once you reach it, kento holds your face gently, "i'm sorry for the outburst there; i just couldn't stand them disrespecting you any longer, so I had to." he says before putting a gentle yet quite long kiss on your forehead.

once he lets go, he sees your face. your eyes had been filled with tears, and it broke his heart. "that's fine, i've been wanting to tell them to fuck off for years anyway. if anything, i should thank you," a smile spread through kento's face before opening the car door to let you in.

once the both of you are finally settled in your seat, you ask, "by the way, I just noticed you called me your wife; what was that all about?" you ask him out of curiosity. he knows you're happy about that based on how happy your voice sounded when you asked him.

"i'm just so sure you'll end up with that title anyway, unless you're having cold feet?"

"oh god, no! i'm just touched, 's all," you shrugged as you settled in your seat, a smile stretched across your face. 

kento chuckles and leans forward to kiss your cheek before starting the engine and driving off.

your mom visited you and kento later that week, saying she was happy she was finally not invited to the next reunion. she then made you your favorite dishes as an apology for that day.

you don't mind what gossip they would come up with next, not when you have the kind of man kento is. 

their little toxic gossip train had nothing compared to the love that kento gives you every single day anyway.

that time when you asked him to be rough

the night is still young and cold but kento does know how to make it hot.

his hands fumble the plush ass as you keep on taking his cock, sloppily riding him as you let your hips and thighs do the work. your cunt meticulously takes all of him, molding your walls just like it was made for him. "hah, faster darling, please," kento pleads, voice broken and desperate for release.

his calloused hands caress your body gently like you are someone sacred, a figure that shouldn't be harshly touched or you'll be condemned, the same hands that used to exorcise and kill curses without a single thought. and yet with you, he carefully carries them lightly, holding onto your waist, not too tight enough to leave you in pain. 

you feel your stomach tie into a knot, slowly feeling yourself come to a climax, "shit, kento, you're so big, mngh, make me feel so full," you say through gritted teeth, further speeding up your pace. the sound of your thighs slamming against his echoes through your bedroom, accompanied by your ragged breaths and kento's broken moans of pleasure.

your fiancée's hands then find their place back on your ass, squeezing it tight, but not too much, guiding you to bounce on his cock more as he feels himself closer. "s'good for me, yeah? taking me like a good girl?" kento looks at your eyes lovingly, his brown orbs touching your soul. you nod, not finding the words to say, mind too hazy to answer as you keep on taking his dick, taking him in like you always do.

"yes, oh god, yes, kento— please, inside— me," were the only words you managed to let out as your movements kept on getting sloppier and sloppier each moment passed by. he knew what it meant, and who he to deny such a polite request?

kento let himself release inside of you with a groan, making sure every drop of his cum is given to you. 

your pants envelope the room as you both try and catch your breaths— then a beat of silence.

you take kento's face in the palm of your hands and caress his cheek, "you know, i sometimes wish you could be rough," you say as you observe his sexed stupor, "i occasionally get rough on you, don't i?" he asks, eyebrows raised with confusion.

"no, like i mean, rough rough," you emphasize, "you're always so gentle. you don't think i can handle you?" faux sadness evident in your voice, one that your fiancée can never say no to, not when you're asking this nicely. "oh darling, i'm sorry, i will do it next time," he coos, fixing the loose strands on your hair by tucking them behind your ear.

"we can do it now?" you suggest, making the corner of kento's lips perk up, "oh? you sure you can handle it?"

"i know i can handle it," you say as your voice rang with confidence.

you knew kento had it in him to be rough, but good god, you never expected him to be this good. 

he had given you a more than good fucking, which leads you drooling on your sheets, with your back arched, ass up, and your hands held behind by kento as he drills his cock into your sopping cunt. his hands left prints on your ass and thighs, which left a delicious burn on your skin. "want to take my babies, don't you?" kento says as his hips meet your asscheeks.

"mnghh, yes, daddy! full— 'f your babies!" that was enough for him to unload himself inside of you, burying himself deeper to make sure you'll take all of it before he pulls out.

you were about to sit up, panting, when you felt kento's large hands wrap around your neck from behind, squeezing it while the other was pulling your hair.

"who said i was done with you, pretty?" the deep timbre of his voice went straight to your pussy.

this side of your fiancée is undoubtedly a pleasant surprise.

the following day, though, you were treated again like a queen, a bath ready for you by the time you woke up, surrounded with fresh flower petals that he had taken the time to buy from your nearest flower shop, and your favorite candle burning alongside your bath products. kento also insisted on giving you a full body massage to ease any tension and muscle ache.

you asked for it anyway, but you also don't mind this kind of treatment from him every now and then.

that time when you had a cold

you woke up feeling like absolute shit.

you don't know when or why it happened; it just did.

your head was throbbing the moment you opened your eyes, squinting at the sun rays that peeked through your windows. your body felt heavier than usual, and your shoulders felt sore. kento had taken notice of this as soon as he woke up, tending to your every need.

it pains your fiancée to see you in such a state, voice hoarse, your sniffles meet with a crumpled-up tissue near your nightstand, a mucus-filled cough every now and then, and an occasional "my throat hurts" whenever you speak. you had begged him to bring you some slightly cold water along with your food because lukewarm water doesn't hit just the same. but being the ever-responsible adult that kento is, he says no, leaving you sulking as you begrudgingly eat your food with a frown.

taking your medicine, though, is a different kind of task.

you stall every single time, finding it hard (or hating) to swallow the pills. even more so if he gave you water with a dissolved effervescent tablet, claiming it's too gross to drink, even if it doesn't really have any flavor. whenever you're sick, this is always the obstacle he has to face.

"please give me some juice or candy kento; it'll help when i drink the medicine," you begged, adding a touch of cooing pleases to make him say yes.

"i think the sweets you ate are what led you this way, darling," he says, which practically means no. 

a pattern he noticed is that whenever you eat too much salt or sweets without drinking the right amount of water, it always leads to you getting this sick. "it'll just be a little sip, please? baby?" you had finally hit a new low, busting out the occasional nickname when you need something from him.

"you're a big girl, honey; you can drink this. here, i'll cover your nose for you," at this point, you just let him do it; there's no way you'll be able to convince him. you reluctantly nod and decide to drink the medicine instead.

kento pinched the sides of your nose together, effectively covering the smell, or lack thereof (he doesn't even know why he covers your nose, he just knows you'll take it if you don't smell anything). your face scrunched as your tastebuds are met with an unfamiliar and unwelcome taste, but you drink it anyway, your throat desperately chugging it so you can be done with it right away.

once you felt that you had finally consumed all of the medicine, you immediately let go of kento's hold on your nose, quickly reaching out to the glass of lukewarm water on your nightstand. after you drink enough to allow the aftertaste of the medicine to go, you place it back and let yourself lie in bed.

"i'll prepare you dinner, and i'll be back, alright?" kento takes away your glasses and places them on the tray he had brought them with. he was about to leave the room when he felt you tugging on his shirt "hm? do you need something?"

you shake your head, "no, just... thank you," 

a small smile spread on his face, your fiancée takes his free hand on your head and gently ruffles your hair, "this is nothing to thank about darling, i'm just doing my job," he bends down and gingerly places a long kiss on your forehead, "i love you, get some rest." 

you nod, but not before giving him a small smile back.

that night after you had eaten your dinner and drank your medicine (albeit hesitantly), you spent the night with kento caging you in his firm, warm arms. 

you feel yourself get better by then.

that time when you got married

when you walked down the aisle, kento looked at you like you had hung the stars for him. his eyes sparkle as he sees you wearing the gown you've been working on for months; even kento himself can't believe he's seeing an angel.

is this what heaven is? is this a dream? are you even real? how lucky is he to be with someone like you?

kento always believed you're out of his league, someone out of reach, and like the stars from the sky, the only way to capture your beauty is through his eyes. but he couldn't believe that the universe was on his side, fate working its way to make him yours, and he happily obliged. 

cupid had shot him through the heart, and you stole it, and he can't even be mad at it. he'd happily give you all of him at the snap of your fingers. let himself be bare to you; let himself mesh with you. your soul, senses, beliefs, and love clouded onto him. 

he consumes every single aspect of you within him, lovers stitched together by fate that no one can even cut. 

kento sees himself becoming one with you, so he will never regret the time he got on his knees to present you with the prettiest ring he could ever find, but nothing can compare to the beauty you carry, not even this ring. 

when you accept him with a delighted "yes," kento swears he's the luckiest man alive ever, blessed by your whole being.

so when you finally reach his side, everyone becomes a blur, his eyes focused on you the whole time, soaking in your beauty; he can't believe this is the face he's going to see every morning for the rest of his life. 

"hey handsome, you look great," you say, holding kento's hand. "i could say the same to you, pretty," he replies, and he had to stop himself from kissing you right there and then.

and comes with the exchange of vows; kento feels slightly nervous but proud because he gets to declare his love for you in front of the people you both cherish most.

he clears his throat before opening up the letter in his hands and looks at you with such love and contentment.

"to the person who helped me see love in your form,

you've always painted colors on my blank canvas, and i cannot thank you enough. you shed light when i'm in my darkest days, have been with me through my stormy nights, and share my gloomy days.

you have been the compass to my lost soul, guiding me to the destination i know as love. you give harmony to my life as your laughter always brings music to my ears; your voice reminds me that you're here with me. you had composed the greatest symphony that sang its way to my heart, making me bare my soul, something that i will never regret," kento pauses, his voice croaked, words stuck in his throat as he tries to stop his tears from spilling. he fails to hear the audience coo in awe, focusing on you.

he continues, "loving you became my eternal pursuit, my garden whose roots are planted deeper than the sea where my endearment continues to blossom. 

every step with you feels like a dance, one that i will not get tired of swaying my heart with. your hands had made a map of my body and soul, imprinted the images of love one couldn't see, and only i could feel.

and the only time i get to call something home, i stare into the deep abyss of your eyes and see myself tangled with you.

with you, i am willing to get even our souls intertwined, dancing through life as we face the uncertainty together, with love ink deep within my veins.

to my anchor, my only solace, the only anthem my heart will forever sing,

i hope the warmth of your arms will forever embrace me, even after death." the attempt to keep his tears falling fails, so does the audience, and so did you.

your eyes filled with tears, but one that's full of love. your heart feels so full that it's threatening to spill out of you. you love kento so much that it hurts; it aches to the core that someone could ever love you this much.

and you're forever thankful.

that day, your promises to each other are officially sealed with a kiss so intense and wedding bands that even evil couldn't break, that no trespassers shall get into and rip your bond away.

when kento's lips met yours, it was soft, it was warm, it was sweet, it was comforting. 

finally, your husband thinks.

that day sealed the chapter to your newfound forever.

another note: i'm not so proud of the vows i made but i hope it captured kento enough lol srry 😭

[krittikasurya]

Some thoughts on Krittka Nakshatra (originally posted on substack and twitter)

Krittika at its best really understands how to both simultaneously enjoy and appreciate things while also being able to give critical commentary and feedback, and I think a lot of people have a hard time wrapping their heads around this level of multifaceted behavior. In a world where black-and-white, all-or-nothing thinking is common and encouraged, people often forget that two things can be true at once. Krittika natives have the creativity and flexibility to understand and implement this “two truths at once” concept into their everyday lives. People think Krittika natives are being insolent or abrasive when the native is just simply speaking on what they’ve learned, gathered, observed and experienced and being straightforward about it…taking the data they’ve accumulated and turning it into something that’s easy to digest. Absolute truths rarely exist, and Krittika exposes the complexities we experience on both a collective and individual level.

Krittika’s goal isn’t to trash things necessarily. I think the goal Krittika natives have is to help themselves and others see things in a different, profound way. Offering refreshing perspectives on many different aspects of life is something the natives take pride in. The Martian influence of the Aries portion of the nakshatra makes one very analytical and strategic. Observing and learning through action and expeirnce, the Aries side of this nakshatra knows how to take things back to the drawing board. They understand that trial and error are some of the best teachers, and that there is always room for change. The Venusian influence of the Taurus portion gives the native discernment and good taste. The discriminatory nature of Venus leaves little to no room for indifference, especially when it comes to connections, arts, and culture. Venus appreciates excellence, and Krittika will accept nothing less. Krittika serves as the bridge between the sun’s (Identity) and the moon’s (Mind) exaltation points, giving both signs vast intelligence that manifests slightly different, but one thing remains the same: The sharp, quick witted nature of the nakshatra that seeks improvement within themsleves and the world around them. In today’s society, echo chambers are growing increasingly common, creating less nuance and mental flexibility, and more groupthink. From arts to politics, the effects of all-or-nothing thinking seems almost inescapable. Mediocrity is the acceptable normal, and Krittika is on a mission to change that.

When not channeled appropriately, Krittika natives can be high strung individuals, hypercritical of both themselves and others while forgetting to appreciate the beauty of life, and the beauty within themsleves. Some constantly feel the need to “shake the table” or say what they believe others are afraid to say, not fully realizing the implications of making ego driven “critiques.” Some “critiques” can be so ego driven, that they are dowright incorrect, mean or hateful in nature. They can be prone to tunnel vision and extreme anger, especially when they feel like their way is the only way. Krittikas can be demanding, exhibiting dictator-like control over their communities which can lead to a “walking on eggshells” feeling for the people around the native. It is imperative that Krittikas don’t lose sight on what’s important: not crossing the thin line between enlightening analysis, and downright negativity.

Krittika natives experience a lot of pleasure from giving critique as well, because they believe that there’s something really cool about being able to get others to think in ways they may not have before, and introduce various perspectives on any given subject. Krittika’s shakti (power) is to purify or burn away impurities, and sharing thier critical thoughts and assessments is one of the best ways to do it in today’s world. If we as a collective are going to consume things, Krittikas believe we can and should evaluate and question what we consume. Things should be questioned more. “Impurities” should be pointed out. The status quo should be challenged in all aspects of life.

Krittika isn’t scared to point out things that are flawed and it infuriates some individuals that Krittika natives don’t just sit and “go with the flow” all the time. Krittika has a burning lust for awareness of the world we live in. Krittika knows that sometimes there will be conflict, they’ll ruffle a few feathers and invoke certain emotions that make others feel uncomfortable, but when done tactfully that has the power to change the world (however big or small you consider your world to be).

[ferigrievous]

philophobia.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ in which you're karasuno's academic victim.

⤷ masterlist ; editor – @unironicfemcel ; ii morning ; iv afternoon (coming soon)

you felt yourself slipping.

what should have been a brief moment of reprieve was anything but, the constant thought of your missing assignments and tests were plaguing you “these are the golden years of your life,” they said “enjoy it while you can.”

you couldn’t think of a bigger let down.

maybe, if you were anyone other than yourself, it’d be true, in some sense anyways. you couldn’t recall the last time you didn’t want out.

selfishly, in the hours of the night, you’d wish for another chance. in another universe, maybe you got to taste what it was like to be loved again.

you wonder if tsukishima felt the same way sometimes. if he could even feel. you doubted he could. he was so… stoic all the time. like it’d kill him to have anything other than that fucking smirk on his face.

it was stupid, how much that boy took up your thoughts. you wanted to rip your brain straight out of your head.

you have never felt more alone, sitting here in a courtyard full of people. it was suffocating. you had recently learned the word for how you felt; sonder. the realisation that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. you didn’t know if having a word for it made it better or worse. you figured it was worse.

knowing what was wrong with you and not having the slightest clue on how to fix it.

picking at your food, you felt your appetite disappear in the face of overwhelming helplessness. you had rushed to pack your lunch in the morning, and ended up bringing nothing but a container of soggy rice. 

across the courtyard, you caught a glance of the man who ruined your life without lifting a finger. despite your greatest efforts to push him out of your mind, he lingered, an ever present thorn in your side.

you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, sitting there with the green haired boy you never learned the name of, his expression as unreadable as ever. did he ever feel the weight of the world pressing down on him, or was that a struggle only you were blessed with?

it wasn't just academics you were poor at, it seemed that you lost the lottery of life. poor academics, terrible family life, chronically ill, and an overall lack of anyone or anything that brought joy. 

sometimes you’d hear your mothers voice at the dinner table, droning on like a broken record about how ‘we give up so much for you, and all we ask is that you do well in school.’ or something like that. or your fathers voice telling you how weak you were, unable to make a single friend or join a single club. going nowhere in life. fated to die on the streets homeless and starving. or something like that.

it was nauseating, and you knew you should be thankful for all you have. two parents that put food on the table and a roof over your head, loving you ‘unconditionally’, but it was hard. all of it was hard. harder than you think it should be.

it shouldn't be. and you know it. you used to be the perfect child. top of your class, teachers pet, gifted in sports, arts, and everything you laid your hands on. but now, you found that you couldn't even make lunch properly. jack of no trades and master of none.

with a sigh you pushed yourself away from the makeshift lunch table you had made from a tree root, forcing yourself to walk around and do anything else.

as you made your way through the maze of tables and chairs, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that seemed to settle over you like a heavy cloak. the presence of tsukishima and the other boy loomed large, their laughter and chatter filling the air with an oppressive weight. you doubted the green haired boy was capable of doing anything to you, considering how meek he was during introductions, but you wouldn’t put it past him considering who he decided to associate with.

you stood in front of the vending machine, assessing your options of the many cold drinks they had. you always got the same thing, but it felt like routine to at least look at the other options, even if you were sure you’d pick strawberry milk for the rest of your life.

but as you fumbled with the coins, your fingers slipping and sliding over the smooth metal, you couldn't shake the feeling of impatience gnawing at you. why did everything have to be so difficult? why couldn't you just get what you wanted for once without any complications?

the blond towering over you from behind didnt help to soothe your nerves, either. 

you wish you could say something, stand up to him for once in your life, but before you could react, a hand reached over your shoulder, fingers deftly punching in the code for the last bottle of strawberry milk. you felt your heart sink as you watched the bottle fall from its perch, landing with a soft thud at the bottom.

why the fuck would this guy be drinking strawberry milk of all things? he probably doesnt even like it, he just wanted to piss you off by taking the last one.

“looks like you’re out of luck.” the voice taunted, dripping with condescension you wish it’d drown in. 

you turned, your eyes meeting tsukishima’s smug expression. his golden eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and superiority, his smirk widening as he watched you grapple with your frustration.

"thanks for making it easy," he spat, reaching down to retrieve the bottle. He took a leisurely sip, clearly savouring the victory as he stood there, his presence overwhelming. you wouldn’t be surprised if your classmates were staring on and betting on whether you two would fight. 

as you stood there staring him down, your thoughts a tumultuous whirlpool of resentment and self-pity, you turned on your heel and walked off, trying not to cause a scene you were sure you’d lose.

he caught your eye as you sat down against the trunk, and, for a fleeting moment, his expression changed. it was subtle, almost imperceptible—a brief flicker of something that might have been empathy or perhaps just curiosity. something only someone who spent an embarrassing amount of hours thinking about his face. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual mask of indifference.

he paused for just a moment, looking you up and down as he sipped from his bottle.  you braced yourself for another cutting remark, another reminder of your perceived failures. but instead, he simply stood there, as if considering his next move.

"what the hell is your problem?" he finally asked, and you didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

you stared at him, your mind racing to process the unexpected question. "why do you care?" you shot back, more defensively than you intended.

tsukishima shrugged, leaning against the edge of the table. "maybe i don't. maybe ‘m just curious why someone who used to have it all together suddenly doesn't."

the words stung more than you cared to admit. it was a cruel reminder of the chasm between who you were and who you had become. maybe school isn't the safe haven you thought it was “things change," you muttered, looking away, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“you’re seriously gonna let some shit like that bring you down?" you couldn't tell if he was trying to be nice. you hopedhe wasn't.

you scoffed, the bitterness in your chest flaring up. "easy for you to say, asshole. you seem to have everything figured out."

he let out a short, humourless laugh. "you think i have everything figured out? trust me, you’re dead fuckin’ wrong.."

you blinked, taken aback by the rawness in his voice. for a moment, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability, a crack in the armour that tsukishima always wore so proudly.  it was difficult to imagine him struggling with anything, let alone something that could make him feel as lost as you did.  it was jarring, unsettling even, to see him like this. you looked away.

"then why do you act like it?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and confusion. you didn't know where you got this newfound confidence, but you needed answers. some form of closure. even if it’d kill you.

"because it's easier that way.” tsukishima sighed, leaning back on the trunk a way aways from you. “people expect me to be the best, so I give them what they want. it doesn't mean i don't have my own shit to deal with.”

you were silent, the weight of his words sinking in. maybe you weren't so different, both struggling under the weight of expectations, both hiding your pain behind carefully crafted facades. "why are you telling me this?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself.

he met your gaze again, his eyes sharper now, as if the brief moment of empathy had passed. "because you need to hear it. awfully selfish of you to think you’re the only person with problems in the world. stop acting like you’re the only one. it’s pathetic."

the harshness of his words hit you like a slap, reigniting the anger you felt towards him. "and you think you’re helping by bullying me?"

tsukishima shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "maybe not. but at least ‘m honest. better than everyone else pretending they give a damn."

you clenched your fists, struggling to contain the myriad of emotions swirling inside you. "why  do you care what I do, then?"

he looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "why wouldn't i ?”

“why wouldn't you?” you repeated, an incredulous look on your face. his response caught you off guard. you expected another biting remark, another reminder of your shortcomings. what the fuck is up with this guy…?

“you don't make any sense,” you mumble, absentmindedly picking at your rice. “one minute you act like you want me dead in a ditch, and the next you’re… i don't even know. why are you acting like you care?”

“don't flatter yourself.” he scoffed, “i couldn't give a damn about you of all people. i just cant stand it when you act like you cant do anything. you could do it once. that means you can do it again, you just don't want to, do you?”

you felt a surge of anger at his callousness, and you wanted nothing more than to break his nose. “you don't have to be a bitch about it, kei.” you snapped, spitting his first name out like it was venom.

“oh, but i do. its the only thing im good at.” is this guy serious right now?

his words stung, but beneath the surface, there was something else. maybe it was just your imagination. you couldn't tell. you were too focused on the anger simmering in your chest.

as the words hung in the air, an awkward silence settled between you. the tension was palpable, thick, and suffocating, but you felt like there was something else. something you couldn't quite put your finger on. you shook your head, trying to push aside the confusing mix of emotions. this was tsukishima after all. the last person you’d expect to show any kind of empathy. especially you.

tsukishima shifted uncomfortably where he stood, gaze flickering away from yours for a brief moment before returning. “look, i..” he trailed off, white knuckling the drink in his hand.

you watched him, waiting for him to continue, but he remained silent, his expression guarded. despite his harsh words, there was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something you hadn't seen before.

for a brief, fleeting second, you wondered if there was more to the younger tsukishima brother than met the eye. If maybe, just maybe, there was a reason behind his relentless teasing, his abrasive demeanour.

but before you could dwell on it any longer, he cleared his throat and turned around abruptly. "forget it," he muttered, his voice rough. " doesn't matter."

“no, don't even try ‘n’ pull that shit with me. what could you possibly want from me?”

he froze for a moment, his back still turned to you. “honestly? i dont– i dont know.”

“you don't know?”

he did. he did know.  he just couldn't put it into words. for someone so smart, he wasn't exactly the best at articulating what he wants.  in a class where he’s often regarded as the smartest, he felt a sense of isolation, a lack of peers who he can truly bond with. all he had was yamaguchi, but even then, he was barely hanging on. it was hard to joke around with someone who’s first word was probably ‘sorry’. he didn't even know the name of the current second placer in the class, and he doubted he ever will.

he wont admit it, but he misses the beginning of the year. you were more than just rivals; you were equals. someone he could maybe consider his friend. but somewhere along the line, the dynamic shifted, and now he finds himself yearning for what once was.

now, surrounded by classmates who can’t even begin to understand him, and teachers who don't see him as anything other than an A+, tsukishima longs for the connection he once shared with you. he needs someone who can meet him on his level without having to stoop down.

but he knows understanding is a battle rarely fought. and so, he watches you from afar, stealing glances when he thinks you’re not looking. eyes sweeping over the way you clenched your jaw, or scrunched your nose at even the most minor inconvenience. 

in your absence, he feels lost. he longs for someone who could understand him truly, someone who sees past his facade of arrogance. sure, he cares for his teammates and yamaguchi in his own way, but even then, it never felt as easy as it was with you.

as he looks at you, he sees himself. 

and as he watches you, fists clenching and unclenching as you look at him incredulously, he wonders if you feel the same– if you too, miss it. miss him. he knows he does.

“i hate you.” thats not what i meant. the words slip out before he can stop him, a sudden rush of emotions clouding his thoughts. he turns around quickly, a hint of panic in his eyes. “thats not– thats not what i meant.” he hissed out, careful not to push any buttons.

“i..i hate you right now. how you are. how fucking.. defeated you are all the time. its so stupid. what happened to you?” he huffed out, crouching down beside you. “i hate fighting with you all the time.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. “what do you–”

“im sick and tired of you.” he interrupts, voice laced with frustration. he wanted to shake you, scream at you until you were the boy he once knew. he cant bear the thought of seeing you like this, especially knowing that he’s partly responsible for it. but he doesn't know how to fix it. how to fix you.

as the words hung in the air, tsukishima’s chest tightness with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. he’s never felt like this before. he’s never… done this before. he wonders if he’s supposed to feel that shiver wracking his body, the unnatural way his teeth clatter. “im– sorry.” he chokes out, voice barely above a whisper. 

you stare at him, unsure of how to respond. it was odd to see tsukishima like this, vulnerable and raw. it was like he was naked in front of you, baring his chest, holding the string as you pulled back the arrow.

“i don't hate you, kei.” you mumble, the anger and resentment that simmered between you two feeling insignificant in the face of his sudden apology. “i never did.”

and with that, you walked away, leaving him alone at the tree, thoughts in turmoil. as he watched your retreating figure, lunch bell ringing in his ears, a strange sense of regret washed over him, and he couldn't quite place why.

you wanted nothing more than to turn around and continue talking, to hold him by his shoulders and ask him why ? with a pang of regret in your heart, he exited the courtyard. he had tried to show you he cared, in his own clumsy way. but like always, he had failed to make himself understood.

and so, the distance between you remained, a silent barrier neither of you knew how to break.

it was only later, when you replayed the conversation in your mind, that you realised the significance of his words. the faint hint of concern in his voice, the way he had lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

but by then, it was too late. the opportunity had passed, and you were left with nothing but unanswered questions and a lingering sense of what could have been.

[deestorytime]

I got prom coming up and what if you wrote something about levi and reader doing a prom send off for their kid (or like some fancy ball their kid is goin to) and like it’s fluffy n cute and tooth rottingly sweetly and romantic 😭

Ok I tried to make it as cute as possible, ngl I was kicking my feet the entire time I was writing it. I hope you like it!

Levi stood at the doorway of your child's bedroom, admiring the sight before him. Your daughter was dressed in a stunning, elegant outfit, ready for her first grand ball. You both had spent weeks planning every detail. She nervously adjusted her attire in front of the mirror as you dabbed sweet, scented perfume behind her ears. Levi stepped forward to straighten the fabric of her outfit.

"You look just like your mother," Levi remarked.

 "And you’ve got your father’s eyes," you added, opening a tiny box to reveal a gold necklace with carnelian gemstones and placing it around your child’s neck. Your family heirloom, passed down through generations, now adorns your daughter.

"You're going to have the most wonderful time," you tried to assure her.

 Levi cleared his throat, attempting to ease her nervousness and lighten the mood. "You know," he began, "…let's just say that dancing was never really my forte." His eyes met yours, and you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

You chimed in, eager to paint the picture for your child. "Oh, you should have seen your father at our first ball. He was all dressed up but absolutely mortified at the thought of dancing. He was humanity’s strongest soldier but put the man on a dance floor…….!?"

Your child's laughter joined yours. "I can't imagine Dad dancing!"

"Alright, let's not exaggerate," he retorted, smiling, and it was a sight that warmed your heart every time. "Let's just say I've had my... challenges. But, in my defense, your mother was incredibly patient with me. She taught me a few steps right there on the dance floor."

 You nodded, “Just let yourself enjoy the moment, regardless of how clumsy you might feel. Your father and I danced most of the night away, those moments we spent stepping on each other's feet are some of my most cherished memories."

Levi's gaze shifted from your daughter to a small music box resting on a nearby shelf. With a slight smile he walked over and picked it up. Holding the music box in one hand and with a flick of his wrist, he opened it.

 A soft melody filled the room. "Come," he said, extending his other hand towards your child. Momentarily taken aback, she smiled and stepped forward, placing her hand in his. Levi guided her gently, showing her where to place her feet, how to move in time with the music. The initial awkwardness quickly faded, replaced by laughter. You watched, your heart full, as Levi and your child began to move more fluidly, her initial awkwardness replaced with confidence. Levi, despite claiming he had two left feet, was an amazing teacher. Just as the last notes of the music box's melody began to fade, a sharp knock came at the front door.

Levi motioned for her to stay put. "I'll get it," he said. Opening the door, he found her date, visibly nervous, standing on the doorstep. The young man was well-dressed, clearly having made an effort for the evening, and held a small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

"Good evening, sir, I'm Matteo," he managed, extending a hand towards Levi.

 Levi assessed him from head to toe before accepting the handshake, his grip firm but not hostile. "Evening," he finally said. "Come in." He stepped inside, his eyes darting between Levi and the staircase where you and your child were standing. The air was charged with silent tension.

“Sir, I—" Matteo started, but Levi quickly cut him off.

 "I trust you understand the importance of tonight. My daughter means the world to us. I expect you to treat her with the respect and care she deserves. Am I clear?"

 Matteo nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. I— I really like her. I promise to take good care of her tonight." Levi studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Have her home by midnight," he added. As Matteo agreed, your child descended the rest of the stairs, her nervousness replaced with excitement.

"You look amazing," Matteo said, his eyes lighting up as they took in your child's appearance.

"Thanks," your child replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "You look great, too."

As Matteo and your daughter made their way to the door, you called out, "Wait, just a moment." You rushed to grab your camera. "Stand together, just there," you instructed, pointing to a spot where the soft light from the hallway fell. "Okay, ready? Smile," you said, your finger poised over the button.

"Thank you, Mom,"

 "Just one more thing," you announced, a mischievous twinkle in your eye that both Levi and your child knew all too well. Before she could protest, you pulled her into a warm, enveloping hug, planting a loud, smacking kiss right on her cheek. Levi's chuckle filled the room; however, your child's reaction was instant and dramatic.

 "Mom! Dad!" she protested.

 "Have a wonderful time," you replied.

"Alright, alright, see you later, guys," she conceded, a laugh escaping her as she waved goodbye and walked away. As he closed the door, Levi pulled you into his embrace, his lips finding yours in a kiss.

 "she grow up too fast," you said. "We did good, didn't we?"

He nodded, your head resting against his shoulder. "We did great."

[t3ag3rs]

g e n s o - 0 4.

gosh this is going to be a long year..

you let out a sigh while resting your head on your hands, observing the class yelling. the blue haired guy with a stick up his ass from the presentation was currently yelling at bakugou. sadly, he sat at the left of you and was currently getting and earful for putting his legs on the desk. honestly though.. it wasnt even that big of a deal for him to be yelling like that.

you let out a small laugh as you saw deku turn a bright red once he saw uraraka. oh my gosh hes down badddd..... im so gonna tease him about this later on.

"if your just here to make friends then you can pack up your stuff now." said a stoic voice from behind deku and uraraka. "welcome to UAs hero course" continued the same voice before unzipping himself from the sleeping bag he had on and standing up. 

"it took 8 seconds for you all to shut up and thats not gonna work, time is precious. any rational student would understand that" he explained walking into the class. you turned your focus to the male talking. 

"hello im shota aizawa, your teacher. alright lets get to it, put these on and head outside." you walked up and grabbed a uniform before heading into the locker room to change.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you widen your eyes as you find out you have to do a quirk assessment test, goddamnt..! i just finally started recovering from the entrance exam and i have to use my quirk again?  

"but how about orientation? we're gonna miss it!" exclaimed uraraka, "to be the best of the best you cant waste time on pointless things, here at UA i get to run my class the way i want to." said mr. aizawa, "youve been taking standardized tests all of your lives" he pulled up his phone, "but youve never been able to use you quirks on those exams before."

"the country is still trying to pretend we're created all equal by not letting those with the most power excel- its not rational. one day the ministry of education will learn... bakugou you managed to get the most points on the entrance exam- what was your farthest distance thrown with the softball when you were in junior high?" he asked looking at him.

"67 meters i think" replied bakugou and you rolled your eyes, god hes a try hard... "right. try doing it with your quirk now."

bakugou walked up and stood in the middle of the circle on the feild. "whatever happens just stay in the circle.. go on, your wasting our time." added mr. aizawa.

"alright.. you asked for it" bakugou stretched his arms before throwing it with an explosion. you rolled your eyes knowing he did that to make the others look. 

"all of you need to know your full potential in order to become better versions of yourselves." he held up his phone to show the distance that bakugou had thrown the softball revealing 705.2 meters.

everyone around you started commenting in awe of his score, but you werent impressed, ill make sure i beat that score just to deflate his ego.

"so this looks fun huh..?" you turned your attention back to the teacher, "you have three years here to become a hero. if you think its going to be all fun and games your wrong. idiots..." he let out a smirk, "today youll be competing in 8 physical tests to engage your potential, whoever comes in last has none and will be expelled immediately." your eyes widen in shock, can he even do that??

"like i said.. i get to decide how this class runs. understand?" you gulped but nodded. "if thats a problem you can head home right now."

"you cant send one of us home! i mean, we just got here!" complained uraraka, "even if it wasnt the first day, that isnt fair!" you looked down, complaining isnt going to do anything right now, but she has a good point.

"and you think natural disasters are? power hungry villians? hm? or accidents that wipe out whole cities? no- the world is full of unfairness. its a heroes job to try and fight that unfairness, if you wanna be a pro your going to have to push yourself to the brink. for the next three years UA is going to throw one hardship after another at you. so go beyond- plus ultra style. show me its no mistake your here."

you clenched your fists, you had to prove yourself today by doing the most you could in these tests.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the first test was the 50 meter dash, you silently thanked yourself for increasing your cardio as you readied yourself. "runners! on your mark, get set, go!" you sprinted and let the earth beneath you propel yourself forward getting you in first place out of the people you were with. "4.002 seconds!" said the bot next to you, you smirked as you beat bakugous time.

the next test was the grip strength test. you didnt have much to help you with this so you had to think creatively, maybe i could get some rock to surround my hand and use that to add on the pressure of my grip... i have no idea if thatll even work..!

you let out a sigh as the highest you got was 190 kilograms. if thats the best i can get thats fine i guess... ill just have to make it up with the other tests...

the third test was the standing long jump, you smiled as you could use your fire to push yourself forward in this test. you jumped and let your fire push you forward, smiling as you landed on the other side of the pit. 

that was way better than the last test thankfully!

the fourth test was the repeated side steps. you decided to use your earthbending to build walls on either side of you and use air to move yourself side to side. it wasnt your best test, but definitely wasnt your worst one. (cough grip test cough)

the fifth test was the ball throw, you stood in the circle and swung your arm in big circles before grabbing the ball and readying your self to swing as hard as you could. throwing the ball, you left your arm out to let the air continue its throw until you felt yourself running out of air. you let out a proud smile as you saw your result of 1,890 meters.

you turned toward bakugou and made eye contact with him, but resisted the urge in smirking at how you beat him by a long shot. 

you let out a gasp as deku went and saw how his ball barely went far. "i erased your quirk- someone like you should never be able to enroll in this school. the judges who were selecting students werent rational enough when picking you." suddenly deku spoke up, "i know you- you can look at someone and cancel out their powers! the eraser hero- eraserhead!"

you chuckled as the rest of the students had no clue who he was, of course deku would know who he was. 

"your not ready- you have no control over your power. are you just going to break your bones again?" deku let out a defensive disagreement, "you will be nothing because of how reckless you are. your worthless if all it takes is one punch for you to become broken." you stepped up.

"um.. excuse me! look sorry to interrupt, but i think your taking this a bit too far! he has just as much of potential as the rest of us, and he definitely has more heroism than any of us combined! im not saying this to argue with you, but im just saying you should give him a fair try like the rest of us." you explained sticking up for deku.

mr. aizawa let go of deku, "go on and get it over with, dont waste our time." you looked over and gave him a smile before giving him a thumbs up. he walked back to the middle of the circle and took in a deep breath before he swung his arm and threw it with enough force to create a gust of wind. you widened your eyes in shock and smiled, there we go!

you looked at the phone to see his distance of 705.3 meters, one tenth more than bakugous score. you smiled happily knowing he mustve been scathing on the inside for how he scored lower than deku.

"mr. aizawa.." you turned to see deku making a fist with his broken finger, "you see.. im still standing!" "this kid..." replied aizawa with widened eyes and an unsettling smile.

"HEY! DEKU! YOU BASTARD, TELL ME HOW YOU DID THAT OR YOUR DEAD!" yelled bakugou as he charged toward deku, you quickly stepped forward to try and prevent bakugou before he was held back by aizawas scarf. "stand down, i would be wise to make not make me use my quirk so much.. it gives me serious dry eye. your wasting my time now.. whoevers next can step up." he let go of bakugou and walked away.

you watched as deku ran away from bakugou as he just stood their frustrated. 

you finished up the last couple of tests that were just based off of physical ability and scored well enough for each of them. you let out a smile as you saw the results and saw yourself in third place, one place higher than bakugou. 

thats what that asswipe deserves.. i hope he never forgets this..

"and i was lying- no one is going home. that was just a way to make sure you gave it your all" mr. aizawa added smiling, you let out a sound of happiness, glad deku didnt have to be expelled.

"that was pretty nerve-wracking if im being honest.." said a black haired boy, "nah.. im always down for a challenge!" said the red haired boy from the presentation. "oh i remember you!" he said pointing at you, you smiled and waved. "your quirk is so cool dude! you managed to score third place out of us all!" you laughed and scratched your neck, "haha.. its not the best i couldve done... but thank you!"

"thats all for today, grab the syllabus from the class, and read it before tomorrow morning." added aizawa before walking away. you turned back to the red haired boy, "im ejirou kirishima, your y/n l/n right?" you nodded, "howd you know?" he laughed, "everyone knows about that stunt you pulled during the practical exam.." you blushed before looking down, "ahhh.. thats so embarrassing..!"

"nah, i thought it was pretty manly of you!" he praised while you both walked back into the building. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you changed out of your training outfit, and put back on your uniform before getting ready to head out. "hey y/n!" you turned around to see kirishima and a pink skinned girl behind you. "oh.. hey!" they walked beside you, "heya! im mina ashido!" the girl introduced while grabbing your arm. you let out a smile as she did so, "im y/n l/n if you havent already heard.." she laughed, "nah i already know who you are! the badass who totally kicked the zero pointers ass!" she exclaimed. 

"as you can see shes very energetic.." sighed out kirishima from the other side of you, you laughed before adding, "its alright though.. it makes her stand out in a way.."

you walked home with them laughing and exchanging numbers. you couldnt believe how nice and chill they were. 

could this be the year things finally get better for you?

previous parts: pt. 0 0 / pt. 0 1 / pt. 02 / pt. 03 next parts: pt. 0 5 / pt. 0 6 / pt. 0 7 / pt. 0 8 / pt. 0 9 / pt. 10 / pt. 11 / pt. 12 / pt. 13 / pt. 14 / pt. 15 / pt. 16

[makoredeyes]

What do you think the Siddharta Golem was back in the Golden Age? Must have been different enough to Rasputin to be considered his son but we really don't know anything about him.

It’s wild! Because even Rasputin becomes fairly verbose about Felwinter, but not what or who he was before he was risen. (Props to dad for not deadnaming his kid I guess??!?* except I still have this funny impression that Felwinter never liked his risen name much SOOOO )

But Siddhartha. His namesake is telling of course- gone out to wander the world and see it for all its goods and bads first hand, to grossly over simplify things.

Rasputin himself tags the activation record with the quote, "Experience is the teacher of all things." Which sure compounds the intent there.

But looking at that same log, yano Rasputin’s code is always cryptic and full of prose but this one has to be absolute THICKEST of them all:

>>AMYGDALA VOTIVE GRASP>>

V149GAQ145CB120

AI-COM/RSPN: ASSETS//GOLEM//INTERROGATIVE

IMMEDIATE ACTION ORDER

This is a SUBTLE ASSETS IMPERATIVE (NO HUMAN REVIEW) (NO AI-COM REVIEW) (secure/AUTARCH).

Initiate SIDDHARTHA GOLEM upload at DSC-342 to assess integrity of moral structures.

Stand by for CRITERIA:

Under PASSAGE (obsolesce/SIDEREAL):

If NANOBE SONDER is IVORY

If HAMMURABI is ACTIVE and passes human review under context TURING

If DURYODHANA is in FAILURE and passes AI-COM review under context IDES

Set spectrum certification to SMARAGDINE

Else, stand by for CONTINGENT ACTION ORDER:

Set spectrum certification to AMARANTHINE

Initiate human review unless tactical morality is built at MIDNIGHT

"Experience is the teacher of all things."

STOP STOP STOP V149GAQ145CB121

——

I had started to unpack this at one point and got a little lost because Big Red is going WAY the fuck out there with some of his prose in this one. We see the term Sidereal a few times in Destiny lore it’s a fun one they like to use but is a weird term to drop here for example, and as best I can conclude might infer something like “long shot” but like. That’s not really what it means either. So there’s some stuff here that doesn’t really translate and then the fucker uses SMARAGDINE which is a shade of green. GREEN. He means green. Like go.

So like. Even without unpacking everything Tldr the old man is feeling extra poetic he’s having some feels about this and he’s also doing this totally on his own without review from humans or other AI-COMs, specifically in secret. So safe to assume we can confirm yeah Siddhartha was pretty important to Rasputin from the very start.

**I will add that the juxtaposition of NANOBE, which is a form of microbe, a tiny life if you will, and SONDER together really does give me the impression of like. A child. A sort of parental wonder at a tiny individual. But that is a WHOLE LOT of inference.

[vivalas-vega]

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / prologue

new series alert !!!! I’m really excited about this one :) I’m still brainstorming a cute nickname for our reader here so if anyone has any ideas lmk and as always lmk what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist for this!

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / prologue

to be tagged in future works, please turn on post notifications for @vegaslibrary 

part one

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none :) series will include language, drinking, smut, the whole nine lol

You knew thoroughly and completely that this was supposed to be the most exciting time of your life… It was the time for new beginnings, to embark on new journeys and gain new perspectives but it didn’t feel that way at all. It felt like the sky was falling and your life was ending though it was truly just getting started and Jake was feeling the same way. Of course he did, you shouldn’t have been surprised, your families had joked you shared one brain since you’d first met at ten years old. A screaming match at recess landed the two of you in the principal's office with your parents and while you’d walked in as mortal enemies, you teamed up in your disdain for your parents and teachers assessment of the situation and left as friends, never to be seen far from the other for the following eight years. 

“We knew this was coming, sweetheart…” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead as you nestled into his side. It was rather dramatic and you knew it, because he was right but that didn’t make this any easier. You weren’t leaving yet and neither was he, it was a simple question he’d asked… wanting to know if you’d made any college decisions yet and halfway through your answer you’d broken down. The weight of that decision had hit you like a freight train and left you wracked with emotion as you cried into his chest.

“I don’t want to leave,” you blubbered and he rubbed soothingly along your back.

“Yes, you do. I do, too. Trust me, if there was a Navy flight school in California I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“If there was a good biology program in Florida, I’d be there in a heartbeat,” you replied and he just chuckled.

“Wouldn’t do much good anyways, I’d be off to Rhode Island before you graduated anyways.”

“Why would you say that right now?” you asked, another wave of tears cascading down your face. Theoretically you knew Jake’s dream career would leave him bouncing around not only the country but the world for seemingly the rest of his life and it was a disgustingly bitter pill to swallow. 

“Hey, you’re going to be all over the place, too… after Stanford who knows where you’ll go for residency… then you’ll have your pick of fellowships because why wouldn’t you?”

“I’m offended you didn’t say Massachusetts for residency, you have to speak it into existence, Jake.” you mumbled.

“Your plans could change… it’s okay for plans to change,” he pointed out and you looked up at him deadpan. “Right, forgot who I was talking to,” he laughed. “We’re going to be okay.”

You shook your head, “no… we’re not.” This was where you and Jake differed. He had an unwavering optimism for your relationship's survival after graduation but you didn’t share that same hope. You knew what was coming, you knew how few relationships actually survived the first year of college. By some miracle if it did, it would only grow more strained once medical school started, and residency was a completely different beast… not to mention the fact that he would be frequently deployed only god knows where with no ability to call or check in. 

“Honey…” he started, but you just cut him off.

“We have to be realistic,” you muttered. “I think we should…” you trailed off, feeling your throat grow thick, almost as if your body was forcing you not to say it because once you did everything would change. You felt him stiffen beneath you and your body’s attempt at self-preservation was in vain anyways, he knew where you were going.

“We should what? Break up?” he asked, hurt lacing his voice and you sat up to face him as you wiped your tears.

“No, I… I don’t want to break up, Jake, you know that… I just-”

“Think it would be easier?” he asked and you shook your head, taking his hands in yours as you tried to keep him from spiraling.

“I’m not saying this because it’s what I want, Jake. It’s the furthest thing from what I want, if I could make myself have the same dream as you and go to flight school with you so we could keep doing everything together like we always have I would. God, I’ve even tried to want that but we’re just… we’re on different paths. We both dream too big and eventually it was going to catch up to us.” 

“So is this… are you ending this right now? Are we over?” Tears were forming in his eyes and you reached up to swipe them away as they fell.

“No. I’m saying that… I’m saying that we should soak up the time we have together, make the most of it before we both leave and when we do…” you trailed off again, and he cradled your head in his hands.

“When we do, we’re over.” You nodded, your face curling with pain and he couldn’t bear the sight. He pulled you in close, hugging you tight as if he loosened his grip you’d vanish into thin air. “I love you,” he mumbled into your hair and you nodded as you wrapped yourself around him.

“I love you too, so much…” 

And you did just what you said you would. You made the most of the few weeks you had left. Your parents knew what was coming and loosened the reins, sleepovers that had stopped the moment you got together were no longer forbidden and despite their own grief at their babies moving out and moving on they allowed you to spend all of your time together because secretly your impending doom was just as hard on them as it was on you. The four of them had all known your relationship was an inevitability, even had wagers on when it would happen… your mom had won, something she boasted about frequently, she’d even gotten it right down to the day, your junior prom. They also knew what you did, that it would never survive the rigors of college, the unpredictability of the Navy, or the grueling schedule of residency. They’d raised two kids that were larger than life, two kids destined to become the greatest at what they did and you just weren’t old enough or mature enough to figure out how to make each other fit. 

You helped each other pack, studied for finals, danced the night away at prom and walked with each other onto the field for graduation and when the time came to load you onto a plane to San Jose he was right by your side until he couldn’t be.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he said, sensing your body language as you turned to face him before entering the security line. 

You nodded, “I know… I’ll see you at Thanksgiving,” you said softly and his hands rested on your hips. You had said your goodbyes to your parents this morning, they suggested Jake drop you at the airport to let you have your final moments in privacy… as much privacy as the airport would allow. 

“We’re making the right decision,” you weren’t really sure who he was trying to convince but in the end it didn’t really matter. Neither one of you were sure this was true, but it seemed to be the only way to handle things right now.

You nodded again, “it’s not an ending it’s just… all we’re saying is not right now.” He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you as close as he possibly could and you felt tears spill out and onto your cheeks. “I’m going to go learn how to become a doctor, you’re going to go learn how to be the best damn pilot the Navy has ever seen and we’re going to be good.” Again, who you were trying to convince was up for debate. You pulled your head back to instead bury it in his neck as you threw your arms around his shoulders and breathed in as much of him as you could. 

“We’ll be good,” he mumbled and you knew you had to pull away… you knew you had to turn around and walk away from him but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it just yet. You wanted to stay here, right here in this airport wrapped up in his arms for the rest of your life, but you couldn’t… you had a plane to catch and dreams to follow and he did too. You pulled away suddenly, keeping your arms around him as you looked at him seriously.

“Promise me something,” you said as you fought another wave of tears.

“Anything.”

“You’re not going to wait for me, we’re not going to hold back and miss out on life waiting on a maybe.”

“Honey-” he started to protest but you shook your head.

“Promise me, Jake, otherwise I can’t get on that plane. Promise me you’re not going to wait.”

He cursed under his breath, “okay, honey. I promise.”

“And promise me you’re still my best friend,” you said, letting the tears fall now.

“Oh sweetheart, not being your best friend was never an option,” he replied and you nodded, letting your hands rest on his cheeks as you looked him over. This was the last time you would hold his head in your hands and this was the last time you would look at him as your boyfriend, because the second you boarded your plane you would be single and embarking on a whole new journey. He placed a hand on the back of your head and pulled you in, pressing his lips to yours so gently, as if he applied any pressure you’d crumble beneath him. You had other ideas, kissing him back in almost a frenzy as he matched your pace and allowed his tongue to slip past your lips, tasting you for the last time and savoring the moment as he knew it was the last. You pulled away slightly, giving him a few more gentler kisses as you swiped away the tears wetting your hands, 

“I love you,” you whispered and he kissed you again.

“I love you too, honey.”

next part

[werezmastarbucks]

I am a teacher of English, and here's what I think it would be like to teach bts

** i don't really take their current English levels into consideration too much but base my assumptions on how I perceive their public personas. it's fun

Namjoon: the IELTS Academic Overachiever

already speaks good English but will def want to improve, because sky's the limit

the student that feels shy about their skills. he's the type of student who becomes more and more shy and grateful as he becomes better and better. thinks it's purely the teacher's accomplishment (he's wrong)

asks 'and what about you?' back every time

you end up falling in love with him

the student who does homework every time

because his homework is very cool. since he's an advanced student, you will mainly train his abstract thinking and converstational skills and will ask him to research a topic or watch a movie

will accept any grammar with gratitude; if he's already studied it, will not say and just learn it again

since he's the most comfortable with the language, will speak a lot about his interests and you will end up knowing a lot about his inner world and hobbies

'my boys,..'

will always give his full insight on a topic

uses advanced convo phrases to impress

isn't afraid to smile at all times

will not cross the professional lines

the type of student who's going to become the tutor's "i once had this awesome guy" story

seriously students like that study English purely for the sake of it and love every second of it. to them, it's about communication

perhaps will complain about Jungkook sometimes

favourite activity: speaking

Jungkook: What Was the Question?

chaotic af

will ramble about his every minute of the day and end up leaving you 15 minutes to teach

in exercises where role playing is needed, will create new personalities for himself every time

once focused, will excell at exercises, but it happens rarely

he's difficult to teach because of how easily he gets distracted, not even by the outside factors, but within the lesson

'oh, by the way...'

will be hard to assess in terms of level because he will be proficient in slang but hopeless in certain grammar, and never answer the question directly or from the first try

secretly good, but not quite at the level he would like to be, so he will hide it

fruSTRATION, may even throw a pen against the wall

will eat and drink during the lessons

eventually you will become besT GIRLFRIENDS

months later still studies without learning a lot of English because the lessons will turn into gossip / ramble sessions

will def show you new choreo because he'll want a third opinion

will nag about doing exercises

'can we just have memes today?' 'can we listen to the planets song again?'

when forgetting an English word, will use Korean-English combo

makes you laugh a lot

'what do you think about your English, Jungkook?' 'i think i am ready to teach at university'

'hey, look what i learnt' proceeds to do a magic trick

always in a good mood, even when he's in the bad mood

will bring new words to ask about: 'what is taint? i heard this word in a movie'

favourite activity: ice-breakers. can play 2 truths 1 lie for two hours straight. will ask to call yoongi to consult with him about your lie

Hobi: Oh God Help Me

will ask for feedback on EVERYTHING

will laugh at your jokes even if they aren't funny

knows he's bad at a particular segment of grammar, but not sure which one

when he doesn't understand a question, he will just freeze and look at you

will feel bad for making you wait while he's thinking of the word

will need a lot of encouragement and praise and will accept it sweetly

if you tell him that he's doing well, he will believe for like an hour and then will start worrying again

will do all homework by hand and send pictures of the notebook pages

will study in a dark room with a bright ass lamp 3mm from his face

has little comfort songs to sing to himself

always has a life story related to a picture or question at the lesson, and will try to tell it, with little success

you will 100% end up having dreams about Hobi's progress, i know i would

probably will have the wrong mindset; overly critical of himself because he doesn't understand the process of memorization and value of relaxation. which is ironic because he is a teacher himself, but do not let it fool you because body and brain work in different ways

the type of student that all teachers adore and genuinely sympathize with

because he's not the kind to understand that making mistakes is encouraged

when at his best, will make the lessons amazing to be at, his radiance is very comforting

face in hands, groaning at least twice a lesson

in attempts to make him feel good about his efforts, you will probably make pacts, challenges and will have little secrets so the others will be jealous because he's 'special'

favourite activity: fill the gap. highly controlled, instant answer reveal, less stress

Yoongi: I'd Rather Be Doing Anything Else Right Now

moody, then happy, then closed up, then happy again

the period of adjustment will be long and painful because of his mood swings

understanding

regardless of that, you will have the impulse to make lessons extra interesting for him because he will probably have low engagement. will make you insecure about the lessons. doesn't mean it, it's just the resting bitch face

gets everything from exactly second try, and never forgets after

the type of student to ask 'why do you need to know about my weekend'

'can we skip this? do i have to do this?'

'did you do your homework?' '...i had homework?'

will fidget with things on his desk while speaking

long detailed answer? never heard of her. lots of additional questions to make him speak for a minute

even though he probably will never do a single homework, will be very diligent if present and understand tasks immediately

'so what do you think about Pedro?' 'i think Pedro is dumb as fuck'

will give the standard answers to questions, yes no guy, but once he finally snaps into trust, will start laughing more. still short answers

turns out to understand the grammar concepts better than expected, but refuses to learn vocabulary

'god made me lazy... because if i... if i try harder, i will be the best'

except will show advanced knowledge of vocabulary specific to his field of work

‘did you change your hair?’

completely zones out while listening to the theory

intense staring, no blinking

god forbid you have lessons in the morning

after every lesson you keep asking yourself if yoongi hates you

yoongi will be the one who’s going to give you all the tea about other members

will not react to praise. doesn't give a shit about praise

secretly in love with you, you will never know

thinks outside the box

favourite activity: grammar drilling. no speaking involved

Jin: the Diva

cancels lessons if he feels like he's about to have headache maybe possibly

snaps from serious to completely goofy in seconds

good at mimicking speech but doesn't really understand what he's saying

'wait, you're telling me he is YOUNG COOK??'

good at listening, bad at everything else

but super charismatic; you will have to keep a very strict and structured program in mind not to get distracted by the pure fun he brings to the table

surprisingly good at remembering what you did at the last lesson

'what do you think about it?' 'honestly I don't really care'

'English is second most spoken language in the world, it's a universal tool for communication, English is vital in today's world' - 'oh, is it?'

Jinglish will become a thing

likes to go on long philosophical rants with 56 mistakes in one sentence; doesn't care about being corrected, barely hears corrections anyway

'tell me something about yourself' 'cracks knuckles'

his not knowing the vocabulary will not stop him

this will actually advance him to the moon as he doesn't have the language barrier in his brain

will substitute words with sounds and reenactments

will not care whether you live or die

'how are you today Seokjin?' 'fabulous'

chooses not to be introverted during lessons if he likes you. he MUST like you. otherwise there will be no studying

'I know I suck at this' will not feel bad when you facepalm

profound

'teacher, how come you don’t know X? Aaaaaaaahhh'

he decides when the lesson is over, you'll have to fight for control with him

favourite activity: interview-style speaking exercises.

Jimin: Chill Guy

the most comfortable person you've ever taught

looks illegaly good on the cheapest camera, super sweet

will remember and congratulate you on Teacher’s Day

will have you thinking you have a crush on him

can be very goofy but just does it with elegance

shy about his achievements and will not speak a lot about himself

will definitely have some very specified interest you didn’t expect him to have, like botanics or antique porcelain dolls

messes up phonetics, the correct sounds just don't stick

super polite, will try to do your job and create comfortable atmosphere at the lesson, at the expense of efficiency

if you promised him to do something fun next lesson, he will not forget it

if you have a movie lesson or just a speaking club, he will boast about it to others

will be the one to keep the score among all of them, ranking each member in terms of progress

jimin will not advance very quickly but he will enjoy the process of learning, and will be very involved

will study when sick

will try to always maintain good mood; complains reluctantly, so you have to be very perceptive with him

likes speaking abstract concepts and future

hardworking but just doesn’t quite grasp it intuitively. unlike hobi, doesn’t stress about it

will cling on a funny word and repeat it a thousand times

will wear clothes with English phrases just to point at them happily

favourite activity: online interactive games. likes the sound effects and getting points

Taehyung: Did I Stutter?

hard to connect at first

and after a while, too; very reserved, will seem unwilling. but whereas yoongi might come off as lazy, tae will seem hostile

hates to be corrected

will happily correct you if you happen to make a mistake

polite but just very hands-to-himself type of student

cracking him will be a chore but once you succeed, he will allow his weird to show

thinks 10km away from the box

will gladly discuss philosophical dilemmas even with his somewhat restricted vocabulary only to let you know he will run over all the people on the train track

reserved about his struggles; at the end of the lesson, when you ask him if he has questions, he always says no

'do you have any comments?' always yes

sharp and dry sense of humor

will show you his pet on camera almost every time

in fact, correcting him is almost pointless; he knows about his weak spots and works on them methodically

will advance the fastest out of all seven, almost as if he's been hiding skills from you on purpose

irritable but cools down quickly

every movie you mention, he has seen

'actually,..'

regular amazing angles of his jaw and hair on his face. model shots

'why are you learning English?' 'management made me'

you doubt he remembers your name after weeks of classes

taehyung would be the most nerve-wrecking kind of student, the type you're kind of unwilling to start a lesson with, and wish you were friends instead; he has intriguing personality but you constantly feel like you need to earn his attention

favourite activity: testing your limits. eating your stress. enjoying his superiority

conclusion:

easiest to connect: Namjoon, Jungkook

hardest to connect: Taehyung, Yoongi

needs to learn how to study: Hobi, Jimin, Jin

advances the fastest, fuck knows how: Taehyung

stays exactly on the same level a year later: Jin

the most draining: Yoongi, Taehyung

made you cry at least once: Taehyung

the most rewarding: Namjoon, Jimin

likely to stay your friend after the studies are over: Jungkook, Yoongi

most popular among your fellow tutors: Jimin

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Welcome to Emelan

My (super subjective and objectively non-empirical) experience has been that Tamora Pierce's Tortall Universe is where most of her fans begin, and it seems to be her more popular universe. Heck, I started in Tortall. But as I read more, and found more of Pierce's books, I found the Circle Universe, and I gotta say, for all my love and nostalgia for the Tortall Universe, I think my heart lives in Emelan with Sandry, Briar, Daja, and Tris. I certainly tried to balance my Rosethorn half with my Lark tendencies and my extremely Niko academic oeuvre when I was teaching, and I love that the Circle Universe gets away from more traditional medieval europe settings. Let's talk The Circle of Magic Quartet.

Sandry's Book introduces the world, the magic system, and our four protagonists. Sandreline Fa Toren is almost royalty in two countries and has exactly zero compunction about hopping back and forth between "just Sandy" and "Lady Sandreline" as the occasion calls for it. We love her, and honestly she's perfect. Joining Sandry at Discipline Cottage in Winding Circle Temple are former street rat Briar Moss, neglected and rejected merchant daughter Trisana Chandler, and orphaned and exiled Trader Daja Kisubo.

This book brings the four together and they learn that they are ambient mages--mages who manipulate the power inherent in the world rather than mages who use power inherent in themselves (academic mages). The magic system in the Circle Universe is objectively my favorite, because it is so detailed and so nuanced and so tied to craftsmanship. It's something I've never seen done better than it is here. And because our four protagonists are incredible, they also manage to spin their powers together, making them exponentially stronger together than they could have imagined being individually--which is just a stunnign thematic tie-in. A+ no notes.

Tris's Book explores Tris's past, her magic, and the choices she has to make to keep her terrifyingly powerful weather magic under control despite her deep emotional wounds and temper. Tris is honestly one of my two favorite characters in this series because this girl just has SO MANY feelings and she has to literally learn to take herself in hand to not accidentally hurt or kill anyone. It also explores Tris's relationships to her blood and found families, and Pierce makes no bones about how sometimes family can be irredeemably toxic, and that it's ok to choose the found family that loves and supports you. Honestly Tris needs a hug, but good luck getting through the lightning to give it to her.

This book also really deepens the relationships between each protagonist and their teachers. I love how much time Pierce spends in all of her books focusing on student-teacher relationships, and the ones here, in a literal educational setting (non-traditional though it is), are top tier. This continues to be expanded in later books, but Niko and Tris's relationship really cements here and I love them as a student and teacher.

Also, there are pirates in this book. That's pretty cool.

Daja's Book takes reader and protagonists beyond the walls of Winding Circle and expands the world at the end of a difficult, dry summer that was poised for a firey fall and a possible starving winter. The Duke of Emelan is touring the outer estates to assess who needs what help and what he can do.

Meanwhile, the book explores Trader culture and Daja's relationship to it. This is done so spectacularly that I am loath to give any spoilers, but suffice it to say that not only does this book explore the downsides of exclusionary cultural practices, it also explores the complex emotions of being excluded and both knowing it's wrong but desperately missing being included. Disability is also handled spectacularly in this book, and I love it for that.

While Daja is exploring her own culture from the outside, Sandry, Briar, and Tris are dealing with the aftermath of spinning their powers together in Sandry's Book. This is very much a subplot, but it works beautifully to expand the worldbuilding and magic system.

Briar's Book sees everyone return to Emelan proper, and this book hits DIFFERENT after 2020. Winding Circle must deal with a mysterious plague, and honestly after Covid, I can't actually read this book without sobbing. It's damn good, and Briar and Rosethorn are just the absolute peak student-teacher relationship. This book also really highlights Briar and Tris's relationship, which will continue to grow and develop throuhgout the Circle Universe books.

I absolutely recommend these books. Tamora Pierce is technically YA, but the protagonists are between 10 and 12 in these books, so they might feel more middle-grade than YA at times, but that truly does not diminish any of the very human themes and challenges.

These books also have absolutely stunningly performed and edited full-cast audiobooks, and I cannot recommend those enough either. I now read these books in the voice actors' voices, and that just makes the whole experience more magical.

[whentherewerebicycles]

baby had his four-month vaccines today and did very well! some betrayed screaming (he looks so much like my italian grandmother when he's furious it's kind of hilarious) but he always returns pretty easily to equilibrium if you cuddle him a bit. chill little dude! i love that little guy.

he is napping now and i should be doing student work but instead i am going to do some reflective journaling about Parenting. i have not been writing about Parenting very much in My Public Diary for a number of reasons and i thought it might be useful to write through that hesitation a bit.

liz and i have talked a lot about how we imagine the emotional experience of parenting is going to feel a lot like the emotional experience of teaching. (bear with me on this tangent as i promise it circles back.) teaching is one of the best, most rewarding, most purposeful forms of work in the world, but you really earn the emotional highs through facing the extreme emotional lows lol. in teaching, you get very little external feedback on how you are doing. you have to trust your gut a lot and figure things out on the fly in the absence of genuinely helpful institutional support. you make a lot of mistakes (sometimes quite big ones) and you feel stupid and guilty about those mistakes (sometimes for years!). teaching feels intensely personal, both because you pour a ton of your own personality into it and because kids' reactions to their classroom experience are often framed as reactions to you personally (ie if they hate your rules or the way you do things or the subject matter you are teaching or the way you address disciplinary issues, they are often going to react in ways that feel like: I Hate You, Person Who Embodies The Things I Dislike or Feel Uncomfortable With). as a teacher there are SO many opportunities for public humiliation, in big and small ways. like, you are basically just on stage every day in front of kids who often did not choose to be there and do not always have a strong motivation to give you any positive reinforcement at all lol. also, while sometimes you are lucky and find really supportive teacher communities, you are also sometimes unlucky and find yourself in school environments where other teachers are really critical of each other or hostile to different approaches or so sensitive/defensive about their own work that even talking about teaching strategies together can feel super fraught. oh and also you have to deal with so much cultural NOISE because everyone thinks they can do their job better than you or knows how your job should be done even if they've never set foot in front of a classroom.

so often in teaching you find yourself facing a challenging audience, without much or any institutional support, with minimal external feedback on your work apart from the intensely emotional I Love You!/I Hate You! gut reactions you get from kids, in professional environments where trying to talk openly about your work or others' work can make people real real prickly real fast. this is obviously a skewed-negative framing (there are so many WONDERFUL things about teaching! the challenges are incredibly intellectually stimulating and push you to grow emotionally in ways that few professions do! the relationships you form with kids and with teachers who also genuinely love the work are unbelievably enriching and life-affirming!). but that's the way teaching can feel at its hardest.

i think that parenting, or thinking and talking about parenting, is probably going to feel a LOT like that at times. like, you are going to get LOTS of feedback on your parenting style from your kid... but that feedback is going to often be really personal and emotion-driven, and it will also be delivered by someone whose prefrontal cortex has not finished developing yet. there is no system of performance assessments where you can get feedback from a trusted "colleague" or recognized authority figure. we do not have strong cultural or institutional resources for coaching parents or helping them learn how to parent in more effective ways. and even the definition of "effective" is going to vary HUGELY from parent to parent, since we all choose to center different values in our parenting and to prioritize different life outcomes (just as teachers might choose to prioritize different learning outcomes and so emphasize different things in their work). i assume that parenting is also going to involve managing feelings of humiliation, guilt, shame, etc. at some points (even as it also offers incredible highs!). and of course there is an absolutely overwhelming amount of cultural noise around parenting styles etc especially online... and it's even more fraught than the cultural noise around teaching because at least with teaching the framing isn't "if you don't do exactly what I think is best you are going to permanently scar your child and irreparably damage their prospects in life." and then idk also just hard to talk to other parents about parenting even though i desperately want to! i want to talk these things out with people who are currently navigating similar issues or have just been through the same thing, as well as with people whose children are much older and who have had the time and distance to reflect on their experiences. but it can feel soooooo emotionally vulnerable to talk about your parenting values or your reasoning for doing things, in part because people can get super defensive about their own values or reasoning for doing something, even if you are not criticizing them for doing something differently.

anyway. this is all a long way of saying: i can't make sense of my own lived experiences if i'm not writing my way through them. writing is the way i untangle what i'm feeling and make decisions about how i want to move forward. i am also someone who craves detailed frameworks or mental schemas for what i'm doing. i don't want rigid rules, but i do want to have a loose, flexible mental framework that guides my decision-making. i want to think about the big questions a lot when i'm in a calm reflective headspace so that when i'm under immense pressure or in an emotionally fraught situation i can try to make choices that aren't just knee-jerk reactions but are aligned with the bigger-picture values and longer-term outcomes that matter to me. i also find a lot of value in documenting where my head and heart are at in a particular moment, even if i acknowledge that my thinking about things will evolve over time as i have new experiences or learn new things.

long circular way of getting to the question: why do i fear writing about parenting online? short answer:

I'm afraid of feeling judged!

I'm afraid of coming off as naive/stupid! I feel like so much of our cultural rhetoric around parenting is like, "you think being PREGNANT is hard? try having a NEWBORN! you think having a NEWBORN is hard? try having a TODDLER! you think having a TODDLER is hard? try having a PRETEEN. you think having a PRETEEN is hard? well you're gonna HATE how SHITTY and OVERWHELMED and INADEQUATE you feel when you have a TEENAGER!!!" and so on forever and ever. there's so little generosity or empathetic curiosity in the way we talk to & about parents or people who want to be parents. some of that is true! you can't really know something until you've lived it yourself, and idk, a lot of it IS hard. but i think often the way we talk to each other about parenting, or the way people talk to new parents in particular about parenting, gets kinda clouded by our emotional defensiveness around parenting and the general negativity with which we speak about parenting.

I'm afraid of making other people feel judged if I do things differently than they do or if I seem to be having an easier time with a particular stage.

however! here are some counterpoints:

people will judge you for anything and everything. who cares! i also think that carving out space for sustained reflection around parenting is going to help me feel more secure in my choices and therefore less scared about being judged. if i know why i am doing things and feel reasonably confident in my choices, i am less vulnerable to being emotionally buffeted around by the general cultural noise or other people's strong opinions.

feeling scared of looking stupid/naive/inexperienced is suuuch a core fear of mine lol. i really relish feeling competent and having others perceive me as competent. but this core fear is also a core thing i want to work on in myself. learning how to do something new (especially when the stakes feel so high!!) is hard, messy, vulnerable work. all learners entering a new sphere of knowledge bring with them preconceptions that will seem ill-founded or incomplete to more experienced practitioners. totally normal. totally not something to be embarrassed about. the goal is not to get it exactly right & be an expert the first time you try something. the goal is to be engaged in a lifelong process of learning, trying, reflecting, reconsidering, trying again, evaluating other approaches or perspectives, etc etc. i am sure that i will often write about parenting in the self-assured, know-it-all tones of a novice learner who's absorbed just enough to be really stupid about it lol. but life will teach me. i will learn to moderate my positions, to reconsider certainties i held sacrosanct, and to respect ways of addressing challenges that are very different from my own. but you can't do that from the sidelines or from that relentlessly bird's eye view/meta mode i love to inhabit. you gotta get in there and live it. gotta look like a dumbass in front of people and then get over yourself and become less of a dumbass in time. no way but through.

lastly, re: not wanting to make other people feel judged: I can't control how other people react to me! I can take care to try to be less of a serenely self-assured dumbass (lol) and to write about my own parenting choices in ways that communicate respect for other people's choices. but people can also just choose to not engage with stuff that isn't for them. or they can gently push back on what i say if that's important to them to see other perspectives acknowledged. that's ok! that's great.

idk. this is getting quite long! but as always, it was helpful for me to write through it -- and i guess maybe also helpful to give a sort of upfront disclaimer: I'm going to be writing a lot about parenting, probably for a while, because I find it endlessly interesting to think about and because this is the dedicated space where I think out loud about stuff. I'm going to be learning and reevaluating the way I think about different aspects of parenting as I go, and I'm going to give myself the space and grace to change my mind as I learn more and have new experiences. my decisions and reflections are specific to my life, my beliefs, and my context and are not meant to be generalized judgments on the "best" way to parent. they're just my choices. but also, inevitably, thinking about my personal decisions will involve thinking about the parenting cultures in which I am immersed and reflecting on why I might want to do things differently or develop different frameworks. so yeah. here we go! more to come but i really gotta get some work done before this baby wakes up.

[nothorses]

Hi I have a question/discussion? about public schools and ik this is your area of expertise so I thought I'd ask your opinion. When I ponder the problems of schooling, I think about things like: how we value grades more than actual learning and information retention; how late work policies aren't representative of how the real world works and needlessly puts extra stress on students; how we don't give students that need it the additional support they require to succeed; how we overemphasize success on the first try rather than allowing multiple attempts, which isn't reflective of how to appropriately navigate life; how we require students to be unnaturally quiet, still, and non-disruptive, which is genuinely difficult for a lot of kids, especially younger ones, and can impact their ability to learn; how we give them too much work for too many subjects at once...

And it genuinely feels like the root of a lot of these problems, aside from teaching philosophy, is a simple lack of manpower- we don't have enough competent teachers for the amount of kids we have in public schools. A lot of these problems, in my opinion, don't result from teachers or administrators who have a meanspirited or incorrect philosophy about teaching, but from the fact that it is impossible to manage an ideal classroom environment in a room of 30 kids to 1 adult (or 2 adults if the teacher's lucky enough to have an assistant). We require kids to be silent and still because in a room of 30 children if all of them got to fidget and move around, no one would be able to focus on the lesson or even hear it. We have late work policies because the teacher needs to be able to get a move on on the curriculum and can't spend forever on a few students for one topic. Etc etc

I struggled immensely in public schools, so much so that continuing to go to school there irreparably damaged my mental health. I was lucky enough to get transferred to a private school with a max of 4 kids per class after being hospitalized when I became a danger to myself. The learning environment there was so much better and it pretty much solved every single issue I ever had with school; I was able to build a personal relationship with all my teachers and I learned more effectively there than I had anywhere else. The teachers also had room to diverge from the curriculum as needed and move as quickly or as slowly as the class required, so we could spend more time on important, interesting, and difficult topics and skip past the easy ones within a week. My history teacher was able to make his own unit on greek philosophical history just because he wanted to and we were all interested in it. I really think the small class sizes was what made all the difference.

How accurate is that assessment? And is there really a solution other than simply more people going into teaching so we can have smaller classes?

That's a huge chunk of it, yeah- large class sizes cause a lot of those problems, and smaller class sizes create a lot of flexibility for teachers that we currently lack in the public ed system.

The thing about it, though, is that those policies are often not even up to the individual teacher. They do usually have control over late work policies, accommodations they can personally offer, and how much fidgeting they'll allow; but they often don't get a say in things like curriculum, the physical classroom they teach in, school policy, and certainly not in standardized testing and the prep that comes along with it.

Education as a whole is designed to be "optimized", in a way, in order to run as effectively as possible on a shoestring budget.

You'll often see that schools in wealthier areas tend to have smaller class sizes and better learning environments on the whole, and that's because school funding is partially local property taxes, and they have the money to hire more teachers, reduce class sizes, fund classroom furniture and accommodation tools, and give them more control.

But even then, they still have to follow district- and state-mandated curriculum requirements, they will definitely still have to go through standardized testing, and their schools will still be limited by the larger, system-wide roots in that sort of "optimization".

How many students can we educate? Where can we best put our money to support learning? is that gonna be 24-32 new exercise ball chairs and a box of fidget toys, or is it gonna be new learning materials with updated content, informed by modern learning science?

These aren't obvious choices, these are genuinely difficult questions to answer. A lot of people spend a lot of time doing research and writing papers and having discussions in attempts to answer them.

A lot of future-teacher education that I've been through has talked about what we as teachers can do with the tools we're given, and less: democratic classroom environments, anti-racist and culturally-responsive teaching practices, trauma-informed care of students and classroom culture, critical literacy and student empowerment, and removing unnecessary access barriers (late work, testing, etc.).

As a student teacher, I worked with my teacher to redesign his whole grading structure to be more equitable- all according to what I had been learning at my university. But according to the school, I still had to take attendance, mark tardies and absences, and make sure only one of my (high school!!!) students was out of the room at a time. And I felt like a fucking warden.

It's not just that we need more people to go into teaching; I assure you, lots of people want to teach. Lots of people love teaching. And there are things we need to address to enable them to teach: teachers usually go into debt in order to get their degrees and certifications, and the whole field pays so little that they are extremely unlikely to ever pay off that debt without significant outside help. You have to be able to afford to teach.

Not to mention it's an extremely emotionally intensive- even traumatizing- job, and access to mental health support is reliant upon income that, again, does not exist.

We need to pay teachers more; not because They Deserve It (they do, and so does everyone else on the fucking planet), but because if we don't, we won't have teachers. They will leave the profession, they won't enter it in the first place (I'm getting higher degrees partially so I can go into education in a better-paying position), or they'll burn out, undergo trauma, won't have the care they need- and that impacts the health, wellness, and safety of students, too. And that means more funding toward education.

The other piece of it is, again, school culture; schools being run on these shoestring budgets means they have to answer these difficult catch-22 "what's more important" questions, and those answers will never be good enough. It will never be "good" to choose better text books over fidgets, or to choose engaging readings over experiential learning opportunities.

Schools- not districts, not higher-ups in the system- should have enough money that they can run the way they want to run, that their students need them to run, without having to worry about whether this field trip to a science museum is going to deprive other students of filling, nutritious school lunches.

I know "fund education" isn't the most controversial take here, but I do think it's important to emphasize just how much of an impact that has on the system overall: not just the day-to-day decisions, not even just the teachers, but the culture and the fundamental structure of our schooling.

[beingdreeyore]

I haven't been around here much lately. Haven't been reading up on everyone or updating about my own world. I'm not really sure why. I'm just busy, I guess.

Life is quiet, but not in a bad way. There have been some setbacks, but they've been manageable. There have been some wins, they've been appreciated.

I passed another assessment last week. I have more results coming out this week. I've prepared to fail the one this week as I know how low the average mark is, how few people pass, and how much I struggled to keep time in the exam. I'm prepared for it as much as you can be. The anxiety will still hit as I'm opening the result and there will be a sense of defeat and disappointment when I finally see the mark there. But I have my plan in place already to resit. I know where I went wrong.

A cardigan I lusted for three Christmases ago was suddenly re-released in a limited run and I spent more than I should on shipping to Australia. I've worked nearly 20 hours overtime this week. I earned it. I'm not even sure that's really who I am or if it's even my style anymore, but I wanted it for so long... I guess deep down I'm still daydreaming about that white Christmas that is unlikely to happen.

My dance studio closed and my teacher deleted a select few of us off her social media. There was no explanation. It was like getting dumped or ghosted without explanation or warnings. I've spoken to others though and it's funny, the thing they always say to me is how shocked they are that I was one of those deemed unworthy given the unwavering loyalty I showed her. It hurt at first but I've made peace with it now. I thought we were friends, she has clearly communicated we aren't. Life goes on. I've started looking at new studios, mainly to force myself out of my bubble but I don't know if I'll go. I'm in the gym four or five days a week and I dance once a week at home. I'm content in the bubble for now. I'm not lonely, but I wonder if I should be. I even thought about joining the weightlifting club in the city, but I don't know... They have a masters team and it would probably be good to meet people. The bubble is so nice right now though.

I'm on track to finally (FINALLY) be done with my psychiatry training at the end of August next year. My compulsory five years of psychiatry training will be up then and by some miracle I may actually finish all the assessments on time (which is very much the exception. The typical time is about 7 years). So big decisions are coming for my life. Where to next...? I think I'll leave the city. There's nothing here for me anymore. My closest friends all live in other cities and other countries. I'm still single. Once the paperwork comes through saying I'm finished I'm free to work as much or as little as my financial situation dictates - the hospital no longer gets to have a say. And for the first time I have some say over which hospital it will be. It gets overwhelming to think about. I don't tell anyone because everyone immediately wants to know what my plans are. I don't know yet. My plan is to keep crawling to the finish line. Beyond that? I have no clue.

So I guess that's me? It's not a lot, but it's okay. There are no men. No prospects. No echoes from the past. It's quiet. And that's okay. It's peaceful. My standards have changed. My non-negotiables too. If that keeps me alone, that's okay. Although if you knew how long it had been since... Ahem... Well, actually, you probably do know. I wrote about it at the time. It was the last time I saw J.

So that's life. And it's not a lot. But it really is okay.

[dynared]

Oh boy do I agree with your assessment that Skybound is able to execute its concepts much better than Earthspark! Despite Skybound technically being another G1 continuity, it feels fresh and original and fun, and DWJ has managed to take something old and turn it into something new, an area in which Earthspark failed somewhat. I mean, I respect what they tried to do, but due to so much being told rather than shown (ie, that one moment where Hashtag asked JB if Megatron’s harrowing story of redemption wasn’t the most beautiful thing he had ever heard? really felt like we were being told to like Megatron rather than simply shown a likeable Megatron, compared to those scenes with OP and the deer, OP saving Spike and a bunch of others with the Matrix, and him bonding with Sparkplug. It just feels more organic, ya know? And it lets the viewer form their own opinions without trying to constantly nudge them into thinking a certain way) made watching it very frustrating, and it felt like the writers were trying to tell us what to think about certain characters, and overall just not letting the story breathe and take shape on its own

Maybe it's just the differences between the mediums (namely the issue of budget for a CG show that reuses assets to save money), or maybe it's the quality and styles of the writers (Robert Kirkman and Daniel Warren Johnson are comic writers, first and foremost), but Skybound, throughout all of the Energon Universe, not just Transformers, has been very good at visual storytelling. Seeing reactions to events, having expressions and scenes tell the story in a way that if just described in the text would fall flat on its face, which in turn creates a richer world. Even in a book like the most recent issue of Cobra Commander, where the main battle is a battle of wits and words, the expressions, the surroundings, and the visuals create something that worlds alone, dialogue alone could not convey.

"Show, don't tell" is a basic tenant of writing, one that every writing teacher worth their salt will preach to their students. However, I can only blame so much of that difference on the medium. While Earthspark will never have the visual spectacle of the Skybound comics (there's a reason I want them animated by Studio Trigger) a lot of it is the writers themselves, who really want to beat the morals and messages of the story into your skull without any care for subtlety or nuance, especially Mae Catt, whose rejected script for a Drift episode had him married to Ratchet and debating a spiritual vs. pragmatic viewpoint with all the subtlety of a brick (and considering how badly Nightshade went over to the point the show got put on blast on Fox News, it's no wonder it was turned down and Catt was apparently let go for Season 2).

I'd forgive even that under the idea that it's a show for a much younger audience than the Energon Universe is for, but then you run into the issue of treating kids like morons, which kids hate. Even Marc Summers (host of Double Dare) pointed out on Quiet on the Set that the attraction of Nickelodeon to kids was that it didn't try to educate, talk down to, or preach to kids (which probably explains why he appeared so horrified at Dan Schneider's antics, but that's another story). Although noting that handicap that it's for kids goes back to a more obvious question, why would kids be invested in what's essentially a pseudo-sequel to a cartoon that ended its initial run of episodes in 1988, before some of their parents were even born? The franchise is literally 40 years old this year, and it's been 35 years since the last initial run of episodes aired, re-cut with a kid talking to a cardboard Powermaster Optimus Prime (while Japan was watching Star Saber battle Deathsaurus and his Decepticon forces). Why would kids connect to something they didn't see, aren't shown, and generally are only told in speeches why they should care about it? Skybound took the time to introduce everyone, in contrast, and make you care, even if you've been apathetic to the Robots in Disguise after years of poorly selling IDW comics that were only for a very specific subsection of a hardcore fan, and gave us reasons to care about the cast outside of the cast telling us why we should care.

Maybe Season 2 (which is going to air somewhere, Hasbro seems to have Paramount obligated to do so) will improve these issues, but I seriously doubt it. I just want Earthspark to finish at this point so we can get something else, even if, in a best-case scenario, an Energon Universe adaptation will take years to be feasible. At least Transformers One seems to be getting good feedback from test screenings.

[pogirosary]

My Realization of Self and God

I never thought much of my spirituality and how it affected the people around me. Especially my family, relatives and friends. I always thought it was strictly between myself and God. Growing up as a young boy no one ever called me a name,nor degraded me in any way because of my "religion" or my "religious practices." I never had to defend myself against harsh religious comments. I can't say that during our younger years, we all "respected" each other's religion. Sixth grade and below, we didn't really understand things such as respect and religion; Seventh grade and above, guys were more interested in girls and cars and girls were more interested in guys and their cars. Religion just wasn't one of the personal characteristics we were interested in. As an adult however, it seams to be just the opposite. Religion and the religious practices of a person are very important to that person's family and friends. Sometimes a change in a person's religion or religious practices causes such an outrage in that person's family that the person becomes ostracized from his or her family. 

My "spirituality" has become a concern of some in my immediate family. My beliefs and spiritual life is not the same as it was when I left home at the age of 18 after enlisting in the Navy. Words such as "idol worshiper" and "Mary worshiper" have been used by those who I hold in very high esteem. My core values (which I will explain later) have been strained, but they do remain in tact. I respect everyone and their view of what I have become, even if I don't agree with their assessment. when I was very young, patience was one of the things I lacked and a temper was something I had in abundance. Today I have an abundance of patients and the strength and guidance from God to use it wisely against the temper I once had. So, bring on your judgments of me and my wife but also know that I leave judgment to God. I will continue to live the religious practices, traditions and spiritual mannerisms I have learned from the Catholic Church, prayer and research. I leave it to the Lord to defend His religious practices, traditions and spiritual mannerisms as they are lived out in my life. 

Some might say I "converted" to Catholicism but, no, I think I grew into it. It took a lot of thinking, soul-searching, research, looking back and looking forward, trying to see how God and spirituality fit into my life. It did not happen "overnight" or even over a decade. 

I was born into a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant world - Baptist to be precise. The first church I remember attending is Donald Smith Memorial Baptist Church in Oaklawn, Illinois. It was kinda-sorta behind our house. It was a rectangular two-story building. The first floor was for "Sunday School" for the kids, the second floor was the main chapel. It was just pews, pulpit and a large head and shoulder portrait of Jesus above the choir loft behind the pulpit. I even remember Mrs. Cunningham who was both my first grade public school teacher and my Sunday School teacher. She would seek out my Mom every Sunday morning <sigh> I couldn't get away with anything that year. I was too young then to really understand who God was and what he did. 

After 5th grade, my family moved to New Lenox Illinois. We started going to Ridgewood Baptist Church in Joliet. I don't remember too much about it. If my memory serves me correctly, both of my sisters, at one time or another, worked in the Church Office. it was another rectangular building with pews and a pulpit, with no pictures, statues or any other artwork. It didn't leave much of an impression on me. I don't know, I was still young then. After a couple of years, my parents started going to the First Baptist Church of New Lenox. It was very small. Again, it was another rectangular building with pews and a pulpit, no pictures, statues or any other artwork. I don't remember much about it either. I was baptized into that church when I turned 18 and was on my way into the military. I think it was more of me "covering all my bases" than a real commitment. I was a senior in high-school, I didn't want to commit to anything. I had just joined the Navy because I didn't want to be drafted. At that time, most draftees were being sent to Vietnam. 

The military had all kinds of "chaplains" ironically, the only ones I met were Catholic Chaplains. It's "ironic" because my record clearly stated that I was Protestant. 

My first ship, the USS Oriskany took me all over the Pacific and Indian oceans. Everywhere we went there was always a Catholic Church and the Catholic Chaplain always made it a point to invite me to "tour" the Church with him. Many of them were very old and very elaborate with sculptures, paintings and stained glass. Many people have what I will call an "uneducated view" of the religious sculptures, paintings and other artworks. The artwork in a Catholic Church comes from a time when most people could not read or write. Many of the great Masters could not read, but they wanted to glorify God. They did so through their artwork. What I see in especially the old Churches is the Bible in pictures and sculptures. Michelangelo, painter of the Sistine Chapel, creator of many statues - most notably, "David", architect of St. Peter's Dome, and much more, could not read or write; but he could praise God and preach the Gospel through his hands, to others who like him, could not read the scriptures but they could "read" his sculptures and paintings. It's the God that the artwork portrays that is being worshiped, not the artwork nor the artist. 

Is it wrong to sit down and gaze upon a picture of someone long past, say, a parent? Someone you might have loved very much, and yearn for them to come back? Is it wrong to look at that picture and talk to that person as if he or she was there with you and tell him or her how much you miss him or her? Is it wrong for you to believe the person in that picture is in Heaven looking after you? Is it wrong to ask the person in the picture for help and believe that he or she is praying with you to God for an answer? Is it wrong to go to the grave-site of someone you love and discuss a problem with them? Is it wrong to ask that loved one to help you pray or to pray with you to God? 

Through the Catholic Church, architecture and art, I have come to know and believe in two families; my earthly one, consisting of my parents and sisters, and my spiritual family, consisting of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Pictures of my earthly family come from cameras, pictures of my spiritual family were made by the Masters. Both are made by humans. 

 The Rosary - nothing seems to say Catholic more than the Rosary. I've heard many say that it isn't found in the Bible. That's true, very true, the Rosary is in fact not found in any Bible. But, the Bible is in fact in the Rosary. Again, artwork created for those who could not read or write. The Rosary through it’s mysteries, contain the New Testament, from the birth of Jesus to his death, resurrection and beyond. I use it every day as an aid in prayer, it helps to "make the world around me go away", so that I can speak and listen more reverently and clearly to God. If non-Catholics would just listen to the words or read the Rosary, especially the last sentence of the "Hail Mary," they would know that we are not praying to Mary or anyone else, we are in-fact praying only to God. 

 My commitment to God and to religion did not happen over night. It happened over many years of searching self and soul; searching the earthly world and the spiritual world; searching various religions, cultures and ways of life. I have called on St. Peter, St. Paul and a few other saints who were once as human as I am now, in just the same way I still call on my Dad and Mom for advice. Catholicism as I know it, is not a religion, it's a way of life. A way of life defined not by anything earthly, but by a God that is open to everyone, a God who is compassionate but demanding unquestioned faith and belief. 

 The self and soul search goes on, the earthly world tries to pull me in one direction, the spiritual world tries to pull me in another direction. I put no boundaries between worlds, I try my best not to judge anyone in either world. I do my best to leave judgment to God. 

It doesn't matter what we label ourselves as, Protestant, Catholic, Jehovah Witness, Methodist, ... What matters, to God, is how we live. Do we follow Jesus and his disciples? Or do we judge each other on how we go about our daily lives, how we as individuals worship, or how we as individuals interpret individual passages in the Bible? Do we throw away the Bible and peck at each other over "our" individual interpretation of individual passages of a very large book? 

God made us all different, maybe we should accept the differences and accept each other as brothers and sisters the way Jesus accepted his disciples and all those who believed and had faith in him. "Catholic" is only a label, how and what I believe and have faith in along with how I worship is my way of life. It is between me and God and wrong for me to judge others on their way of life. 

Lastly, through my research, Catholicism teaches me that I should not only "love" all of humanity, but that I should also respect everyone's race, age, sex, career, culture, customs, traditions, character, religion and their points of view. Essentially, as a Catholic, I should respect every aspect of every person's life. It is OK to respectfully disagree with someone but wrong to disrespect them or any part of their being. So, bring on your criticisms of my religious practices. I'll just pass them on to the Lord and let Him deal with them.

[ira-407]

How to School Me Better: Universal Changes

This will be the first in a series of blog posts about me reflecting on my schooling experience. Each of them will be posted under the "school" tag on my tumblr.

I graduated college two years ago. I haven’t been back in school since then, though I do plan to return about a year from now. My overall school experience was, I’d say, pretty decent. I was certainly not without many personal struggles, whether it was academically or socially, though. Many of my teachers were great and really did the best with what they had. There were a few teachers I had who I didn’t think were good teachers and who failed to really reach me. Regardless, the public American education system is an absolute mess and I think it needs to be fundamentally reworked from the ground up. I don’t think I can find that many people, including current teachers, who would completely disagree with that sentiment. So what I am going to do here is brainstorm ways in which I think said system could be reworked, though more to the point, I am going to list ways in which I think specific subjects could have been taught to me in ways where they actually would have stuck and have been meaningful to me. Now that I am an adult, I have recognized that I definitely don’t have a dislike for learning-in fact, I think most people like learning in some form or fashion-but the way a lot of subjects were handled in the classes I took was in a way that was not very conducive to actual learning. It’s actually pretty wild, thinking back at it, how the people who design these curriculums thought that they were. I don’t mean the individual teachers I had here, for the most part at least. There was a large looming force over most of the courses I took, whether it was standardized testing or having to do grades in a specific way for the school. So these are more systemic suggestions than they are levied at any specific teachers I had, though certain teaching styles and philosophies worked better with me than others. 

Universal changes

More federal funding across the board

Smaller student-to-teacher ratio

The abolishment of homework

More recess/unstructured break time for all grade levels

No standardized testing

No self-contained special ed classes for *anyone*. Actually meaningfully include students with disabilities.

Shorter school days in general, though doing this without also shortening the work day for most jobs would not be optimal

Minimize traditional testing in general

Apply a strength-based approach to how mastery of the subjects are assessed

A lot of these are things already done at private schools and via homeschooling. Which is great! However, most families cannot afford these things. I don’t know that mine could’ve. Private schools and homeschooling are at best, band-aids on the current system we have, and at worst are shelters from the real world for parents who want to mold their children into their particular image of them. Tutoring also definitely helped me, but again, it’s a band-aid. Private schools also tend to have horrific things happen in them because they’re not beholden to the same rules as public schools, though they can also be great for that same reason. Regardless, those are not going to help the most people as opposed to more systemic changes. Other obligations can get in the way of homework if one is involved with extracurricular activities. Now yes, there’s the “school comes first, extracurriculars second” doctrine but I really don’t think it’s that simple.

Extracurriculars are supposed to enhance your learning in some way, and may even utilize skills you learn in classes. Why not leverage that more instead of expecting someone to not break under the pressure of having to juggle so many things at once? There seems to always be the underpinning argument of “this is how the real world works, Better Get Used To It” when it comes to this stuff. Yes, having to juggle obligations is part of adulthood. However, a lot of the time, even then, I feel like it doesn’t quite have to be that way. If this is what I needed to get used to, then why should I be excited to grow up at all? There’s also a point to be made about how a lot of what we even learn in school isn’t stuff we use in everyday life, though I think one way to fix that is to simply apply what we learn to real life more often. 

Strengths-based approach is a term often used in disability services, though I think in a lot of ways, it is applicable to learning as a whole. Some of the very best teachers I had used this approach. They were the ones who really valued growth and connection. The ones who didn’t simply feel like authority figures, the ones who didn’t care as much about the extrinsic value, but rather the ones who actually took time to meet students where they are, and make them recognize that they inherently have strengths that can be utilized effectively. They make the class feel legitimately connected, and the only people who may feel left out simply weren’t interested in the first place. I can tell the difference that makes for a classroom environment. A great example of this was a class I took two semesters in a row, which was for a storytelling ensemble known as Tellers.  One thing I really liked about Tellers was that everyone had their own thing they brought to the table. There wasn’t really a sense of, “oh, this guy is better than the other guy”. The director really has a way of making each performance feel special and becoming of the individual’s skillset. Does that mean nobody in tellers is better or worse than another or that all performances are equally good? No. What it does mean, is that there wasn’t a race to the top. There was simply being the best you. Bringing your best foot forward. Not creating a hierarchy or a sense of competition doesn’t mean nobody gets praised in a classroom. It means everyone’s unique talents and strengths are well recognized. What makes a teacher truly exceptional is the ability to fully realize that. 

Next, I want to go by individual subjects, since I had my own share of strengths and weaknesses in each of them. Generally speaking, I struggled the most with STEM subjects. I think some of this has to do with how my brain is wired. I’m definitely not a very logical point a-point b thinker. However, I also don’t at all think I am incapable of learning these things. Most, probably nearly all, of my former teachers and professors would likely agree that I was capable of learning what they taught me and I generally would absorb it pretty well. What I struggled with were the assignments themselves, and keeping up with the pace at which the content was taught. The most common ways most subjects were taught didn’t work for me. Some of what didn’t work about how these subjects were taught also affected how well I did in literature and humanities courses too, even though those were usually my stronger subjects. Since I don't want to put everything into one giant, long blog post, I am going to split these up into parts. Next time I will be discussing math, but for now, I would like to know what you think about what I have discussed so far, as well as your own personal experiences, should you feel comfortable sharing.

TL;DR: My schooling experience came with a myriad of challenges. Many of these were because of my disabilities as well as how the system is not properly designed for people like me, and is inherently flawed in general. There are many systemic changes that should be made that can improve the overall experience for everyone, students and teachers alike. There are also specific changes that could made which would benefit students like me.

[witchywriterlythings]

Something This Way Comes

Chapter One: My Best Friend is a Goat and You Don’t Want To Know About the Math Teacher

The first time that I realized that my roommate wasn’t human, I will admit I considered calling my mom and asking her to pick me up.

We’d moved in together on a Sunday, the day before school started. Officially, it was because the teachers hadn’t arrived until the day before, but I figured it was so we didn’t have time to get into trouble before the semester even started. I wasn’t complaining, I wanted more time to spend with my mom before I wouldn’t be seeing her for months. Even if it meant dealing with Smelly Gabe, my asshole of a step-dad. I put up with him for my mom, afterall it was hard on her before he showed up trying to provide for us on only one income and what I could scrounge for with the odd job from our neighbors. And it seemed she really cared about him, despite how sometimes her scent flashed with fear. It never stayed for long though, so I just kept an eye on the situation.

Anyway, I had arrived first and set up my side of the room away from the window so there wasn’t anyone between me and the exit. I didn’t know what type of person my roommate was going to be after all, and I didn’t like being boxed in. But I didn’t have to worry about that, as the guy who walked through the door as I was hanging up my "shark tooth" collection box was definitely not a threat.

"Oh, hey man. I’m Grover…um, Grover Underwood? Are you Perseus?" He might have been taller than me if he wasn’t bending over crutches, trying to balance a box in one hand.

I reached out to grab it for him before it fell, before realizing part way through I shouldn’t just go grabbing at people’s things. "Do you want help with your stuff? You can just call me Percy." 

He relaxed as he held out the box for me to take, watching as I put it on the bed for him. It was open at the top and when I peered inside, bad habit of curiosity, I saw a collection of succulents like the "plant mom" in the apartment below us had. Aside from knowing they were called succulents, I had no idea what any of them were. "Don’t worry, they don’t really have any pollen if you’re allergic."

I waved him off even though I appreciated the thought. "Nah, man, I just wasn’t sure what you didn’t trust the orientation leaders to move. My mom helped me with most of my stuff, but I had to stop some of them from grabbing some boxes too."

Grover smiled with all his teeth and despite my earlier assessment, I almost bared my own at the threat. I had to take a deep breath to remind myself that was just how some people smiled. "Cool." 

We settled into a comfortable conversation after that, talking about schools we’d been too. Apparently Grover had been to quite a few himself, though no where as many as me. He didn’t seem like he was judging when he brought it up, turning it more into how stupid the system was and how schools never really accommodated his crutches as much as his guardian hoped.

"It was a lot worse when I was younger, if you can imagine. Some schools didn’t have elevators if they were old enough." He shuddered as if imagining all the times he had to climb up and down those stairs. 

I tried not to laugh, but a snort got through before I could help it. It wasn’t that I thought his struggles were funny, but I could just imagine baby Grover with his oversized crutches glaring at the stairs all dramatic like. I went to explain, but he waved me off. 

"You don’t seem like the type," he said as if that explained everything. 

That was my first clue that something was wrong. Humans just didn’t seem to understand my humor most of the time, thinking it was too dark or not giving me time to explain what I found funny. But those who were part of the world we didn’t talk about, that we didn’t give names to, like the pretty women in the water who liked to braid me seaweed crowns with shells or the ones in the trees who thanked me for cleaning up the trash around their roots in Central Park—they let me explain. They were patient and even when they didn’t understand, they would just ask if I meant to be mean and if I said no, they would believe me. 

There were others too, but I didn’t really think about them as much. They made my mom nervous.

So the idea of someone being so accepting of me, of wanting to be my friend right away without even getting to know me first, it set off alarm bells. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps he wasn’t what I thought he was. Maybe he wasn’t sent here for me. Maybe he wasn’t a satyr. 

Then I saw him on enchilada day in the cafeteria, his shoes basically slipping off his feet as he moved faster than humanly possible to get to the front of the line. I slipped out into the hallway feeling like someone was sitting on my chest and doing some monster reverse CPR, stealing all of my air. I could feel the panic rising into my throat as my brain screamed at me to call my mother. Tell her they found me. Tell her goodbye, after all, why would they let me go when they realized what I was? Best to keep me where they could keep an eye on me under the guise of ‘training’. 

My instincts stopped me, though. Something deep in my gut telling me I didn’t have to run from Grover, at least not yet. To stick around and see what happened. When I finally got my lunch, I expected Grover to have finished already, maybe be saving me a seat somewhere no one else wanted to sit. 

"Hey Percy!" And yet, there he was, sitting at a table right by the door, with his crutches and bag saving me a seat despite that table being a prime spot for some of the more popular kids. They loved to stick their legs out to trip people who had to walk by them to leave. He was blatantly ignoring Nancy Bobofit throwing apple slices at him, even going as far as to catch one and pop it in his mouth while staring directly at me. 

"Hey G-man," I said with a wide grin as I slid into my seat next to him feeling lighter than I had all week. "You a big fan of enchiladas then? I thought you had a note for gym, but guess you got some super secret skills." 

He shrugged as he brought a forkful to his mouth, drawing my eye to his still full plate. It must have grown cold while he was waiting for me. My brain finally shut up. "Enchiladas, man. Worth being sore for, you know?" He wrinkled his nose at the sight of my hamburger, which wasn’t a surprise considering it was barely cooked. I had a deal with the lunch ladies after all, they wouldn’t question my food choices as long as I didn’t die and I wouldn’t question what they were growing in the gardens under the headmaster’s nose.

I had seen reactions from disgust, to concern, to blatantly ignoring my plate. Grover looked at my mostly raw burger, saw the red juices making the bun soggy, and wrinkled his nose. "I don’t get how you can eat that, it used to be a cow you know." I grinned sharply, half expecting him to flinch away but he rolled his eyes at me as I took a big bite and hummed happily. "You could at least get your dead animal away from my enchiladas." 

The first time I realized our new math teacher wasn’t human was the second she walked in the door announcing that she was our new teacher. "He was weak willed and had a nervous breakdown, which I find pathetic. You won’t find the same weakness in me."

I almost laughed at how obvious she was being, but that would have drawn attention to myself and my mom always reminded me not to do that. I mean, what else could a demon grandmother who looks like she drives her motorcycle into lockers and runs over students for fun be but a monster? If she wasn’t teaching at Yancy, I might have believed her to just be a funny old woman, but I had never seen any of the faculty wear anything but business attire for the first month of classes and she strolled in with a leather jacket without anyone questioning it? 

Monster. 

What really startled me about seeing a monster at Yancy was how frequently Grover tried to step between us. He would ask questions if her gaze turned to me, sitting on the opposite side of the room because of course she’d change the seating chart. He’d throw a pencil at Nancy Bobofit’s desk and get her to whip around to see who it was, drawing Mrs. Dodd’s into comforting her favorite student. 

Despite Grover’s best efforts, she was always singling me out in class. Once, after a late night detention, I even mentioned that I didn’t think she was human. Grover, being the absolute legend he was, agreed without hesitation. 

"Thanks man. You’re my best friend, you know that right?" I might have fallen asleep before he could respond, but he seemed to be having a good morning when I woke up so I had hope he thought the same. Even if he was most likely a goat boy. 

So to summarize, so far my best friend is half goat and my math teacher is a demon-grandmother most likely intent on eating me if she ever gets the chance. I wasn’t sure why she was waiting, it wasn’t like I was hiding from her, but we got to the field trip to the MET, or Metropalition Museum of Art for those of you who aren’t New Yorkers or live under a rock, before anything happened. 

We listened to Mr. Brunner, the latin teacher who held us at sword point while we did review and was one of my favorite people at Yancy, talk about the entire Greek and Roman section before we finally settled in front of a young girl’s steele. 

I was only half listening as Nancy kept shoving my shoulder with her own even when I tried moving away from her. I knew that if I snapped at her, it would be my fault somehow that Mr. Brunner got interrupted. I mean yes, I would have been the one to talk but… "Would you cut that out?" 

Mr. Brunner didn’t even flinch as he wheeled around to look at me. "Mr. Jackson, did you have something to say?" He always looked at me like he expected me to rise to his expectations, no matter how many times I failed to meet them. It was nice for someone to believe in me besides my mom. Grover didn’t count, he wasn’t an adult. "Would you like to explain what this scene represents?"

I stepped forward to get a better look at what he was pointing out when I felt irony push a laugh into my throat. I coughed it down, wouldn’t do to tip everyone off that I though this was funny. "That’s the titan lord devouring his kids, the gods. He received a prophecy that one of them would kill him and take over as king, so he decided to eat them all. He missed the youngest and so he freed his siblings and they klled the titan lord." 

"How does this matter? What job is going to ask us why Kronos ate his kids on our resume?" Nancy and her friends giggled behind their hands, but quickly shut up when Mr. Brunner’s gaze shifted to them. 

Grover snorted. "Busted." 

"Mr. Jackson, do you have an answer to Ms. Bobofit’s question? The first one, if you will." Of course Mr. Brunner wouldn’t let me get sassy and say ‘the MET might need tour guides, you know’ and wanted me to give a real answer. 

I stared at the steele as I tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy him. All prophecies are self fulfilling? Abusing your kids is a bad idea because they might end up killing you? Abusing anyone is a bad idea because they might end up killing you? I ended up shrugging and avoiding his gaze. "I don’t know, sir." 

There are a lot of things in my life that I hate. I hate Smelly Gabe and the way he seeped into every part of my life, until even months into school I can still smell him on me even if no one else can. I hate that my dad can’t come visit or even send a sign to let us know that he’s watching because if he does, I will be known. And I can’t be known. 

But one of the things I hate the most is when I lose control. 

"Percy pushed me!" Nancy screamed from her spot in the fountain. 

"Did you see—?"

"She flew back—" 

"Did he even—?" 

"The water—" 

Grover didn’t even flinch, despite how precise my powers were in my anger. How the tendrils wrapped around her ankle and up her leg while no one was paying attention. He simply stepped between me and Mrs. Dodds when she arrived, her scent spicy in a way it hadn’t been in months. "I did it! I pushed her!" 

Something inside me screamed No! Mine! at the thought of Grover taking my punishment, but another purred at how brave my saytr was to defend me against a monster. "It’s okay," I assured him, "I got this." 

He didn’t look like he believed me, but he let me go all the same. I was right to chose him. He was a really good friend, my best friend, and now he was stuck with me forever. 

I made my way up the steps into the museum, not even bothering to let Mrs. Doods lead as I made my way to the Greek and Roman section. "It’s fitting, don’t you think? That they have the two together." 

"You know why I’m here, honey, so why don’t you just hand it over and I’ll make it quick." Her lips were black when I glanced over my shoulder, but she wasn’t fully transformed yet. I had time. "Or I can take you to my lord and he can tear you to shreds a thousand times."

I shrugged. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have anything. I’ve been here, at school, all year." I picked at the skin around my nails, admiring the pretty green Grover had painted them for me last weekend. He’d gotten a lot better at it. 

"Insolent child, I will revel in your blood!" 

Another thing I hate is being caught off guard, being watched when I didn’t know. Mr. Brunner showing up as I was shoving Mrs. Dodd’s leather jacket into my backpack was unexpected, as was the sword in his hand. 

I made sure not to turn in his direction when I left, allowing him the peace of mind that he was hidden by the entrance of the exhibit. But I could still smell his fear souring the air, though it wasn’t as pungent as I expected from what I thought was a human. I hated being wrong. 

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