#where they’d pull you out of class in elementary school and be like

[thatisaloaf]

My evil villian backstory is that I was the only kid who didnt participate in those special classes they did where thhey made you solve riddles and escape rooms

[krazyyyyyy]

Forever Longing Solivan Brugmansia /Reader

Synopsis: A small glimpse into Sol's elementary life, where he abruptly meets the single most important person in his life...You

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Words: 2553

Notes: Don't know how many more of these I'll write, but I'm hoping to get around three more done if not a few more.

Hope you enjoy this short story <3

Children’s happy laughter echoed loudly throughout the playground, as they began to spill out of the school building; marking the beginning of their cherished recess time. Kids ran freely playing around with friends, swinging giddily on the swing sets, and continuously going up and down the slide.

Well, all the kids but one…

A young, small, and quiet Solivan stood far away from the other kids, staring at the ground at his feet, avoiding any eye contact with anybody within the area. He knew he didn’t fit in with the others, given his introverted nature, he was considered an outcast amongst his classmates. People tended to overlook him, barely acknowledging his presence even when they were standing right next to him.

He was used to it, though…. He had his drawing supplies and stuffed animals, the only things that really made him feel anything close to happiness. The stuffed animals would never judge him, and, they’d always be around to listen to him when he needed it, an idiosyncratic concept to him growing up in a loveless household.

A soft tap on his shoulder causes him to lift his amber gaze from the ground and into the familiar brown orbs of his teacher, Mrs. Baker. A woman with a skinny frame and curly auburn hair that just slightly exceeded her shoulders. It took everything within him not to scoff at her arrival. She was keen on pushing him towards being more sociable with the other kids, a goal that would always fail in his favor. So why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

 She crouched down to his height and spoke to him in her usual soft and steady voice, “Solivan, Why don’t you play with the others today? It seems they're playing a little game of freeze tag, doesn’t that sound like fun?” 

Solivan spared a short glance toward where the kids were running wildly at each other, while some others stayed frozen in place, showing signs of annoyance at being frozen; he retracted his gaze back to the ground shaking his head, mumbling a small “No”

Mrs. Baker smiled understandingly at the timid young boy before her, “I know it might seem scary, but give it a chance, you might like it more than you think.” She attempted one last time to try to convince the boy to open up, even if it was just a little.

The boy remained silent, having lost interest in the conversation completely and hoping that his teacher would simply give up and leave him alone for the rest of the recess period.

Thankfully, it seemed fate was on his side, as he heard his teacher sigh next to him before standing up and walking away to a different part of the playground to supervise a group of rather exuberant children. Leaving him alone at last.

The little raven-haired boy sat on the ground, back pressed against the steel fence that separated the playground from the busy streets that lay not far behind. Settling down, Sol pulled out a small sketchpad from his back pocket; a notebook that was filled page to page in his numerous doodles, which he usually did during class time to pass the time.

Pulling out a pencil, Sol began to doodle, head buried in the notebook; heavily embarked on the mini sketches that required his utmost attention. After a while, he finally cranes his head back to admire his work; his sketch was that of a small horse with a small sketched figure of him seated cheerfully on its back.

He beamed at the drawing, proud of his work. While marveling at the sketch, the notepad is quickly ripped from his grasp. Startled and confused, Sol snaps his head up to look at the culprits. Standing above him, were three kids, obviously much older than he was, possibly four grades above him.

Sol was quick to spring up to his feet to try to get the notebook back, but to no avail, as the blond boy who held the item towered over him. He held the sketchbook high above his head, so even if the little boy tried to jump for it, it would prove pointless in the end

“Give it back!” Sol shouted at the kids as he continued to try to reach for what he considered to be one of his only sources of comfort. All three of the boys laughed at him, “Aww, is the little weirdo gonna cry.” a boy with red hair teased, pointing at him.

“You drew yourself riding a horse? What are you, some kind of girl?” The blond boy jokingly flipped through the pages of the book, briefly observing its contents.

“Stop it!” When Sol tried to reach for his sketchbook once again, the blond boy laughed, before tossing the book over to another boy; then that boy proceeded to also flip through the book and laugh before also tossing it to the next boy. Sol found himself playing in this miserable game of monkey in the middle; a game where he could only watch as his book flew through the air above him, out of reach, with no hopes of ever reaching it.

Eventually, Sol got the courage to defend himself from these bullies, and with all the strength he could muster with his tiny form, he tried to shove the bully who had the sketchbook in his possession. But, the shove proved unhelpful, as the bully didn’t even move an inch.

Sol could barely catch his breath before he was harshly shoved to the ground. A sharp pain pulsed through his body as his back was met with the hard ground; Sol opened his eyes to notice that his sketchbook had fallen next to his body, the bully had more than likely dropped it in outrage at Sol’s sudden rebuke. Sol swiftly snatched the book off the ground and held it close to his chest, shielding it from the bullies.

Sol lay on the ground in a fetal position, with his back facing his bullies, arms still tightly wrapped around his sketchbook. There was a sudden sharp pain on his side as a bully directed a fierce kick toward the young boy; another boy directed a kick, of similar intensity, toward his other side, leaving the little boy only to whimper in pain.

The group of bullies continued to relentlessly kick the defenseless boy, not showing any hint of mercy toward him. Tears ran down Sol’s cheeks as he could only endure the endless kicks that the bullies threw at him. He closed his eyes and hoped the boys would soon grow bored with this and walk away, or maybe a teacher would notice this assault and interfere.

It felt like an eternity that the kicking would continue, he almost thought it would never end…

Until a loud voice rang out and suddenly the kick stopped.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Sol heard the unknown voice shout at the group of boys. He peeked from his position to glance at where the shouting came from; upon opening his eyes, he was met with his saviors back facing him as they spread their arms out wide to shield him away from the sight of the bullies.

“Get outta the way Pipsqueak! Or you're gonna be next!” He heard one of the bullies shout at the person before him. Sol noticed the stranger's visible shakiness as they stayed rooted in their spot in front of him; they were just as scared of these bullies as he was, yet they still chose to throw themselves in the middle just to protect him. He felt a surge of admiration for the stranger; this had been the first and only time someone stood up for him… his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.

“No! I-I won't l-let you!” The stranger's words came out shuddered and breathy as if they were holding back tears. Luckily, their voice had been loud enough to possibly draw the attention of others nearby.

The twisted grins on the bullies' faces faded at the realization, and they looked around the area to see if anyone had caught the drift of what was happening.

“Shit!”  Was the last thing Sol heard from them, followed by the frantic pattering of feet in the grass as the bullies quickly fled the scene. Leaving behind two frightened kids as a result. 

Sol, who was still lying on the ground, breathed heavily, the fear coursing through his veins still running wild. He flinched when a blurry object suddenly came into his vision. As his vision slowly cleared, he noticed that the object was the outstretched hand of his savior; they looked down at him with a concerned expression, tears still lingering in the corner of their eyes.

Hesitantly, Sol took the hand, which helped pull him to his feet. He stumbled a bit but managed to regain his balance with a bit of effort and help from the person next to him.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asked him, their voice a bit hoarse from all the yelling yet still holding a subtle gentleness to it. Sol looked at them for a second, before shyly shifting his gaze off somewhere else and slightly nodding his head.

They smiled, their gaze landing on the item that Sol continued to hold tightly to his chest. “What’s that?” They pointed out the sketchbook, which, unknowingly to them, had caused the whole ruckus that just happened moments ago.

“... It’s my sketchbook,” Sol murmured under his breath, keeping his gaze away from the person in front of him. He never did well talking to people, never mind kids his age, this person wouldn’t be any different.

Their eyes lit up as he spoke, “You draw?! I wanna see it! Can I see pretty, please?!”

 Sol was taken aback by their sudden interest in his sketchbook, his eyes were blown wide at them; he had never shown anyone his work before, nor had anyone ever asked to see it… this person was achieving a lot of firsts for him. He supposed he could show them, considering they had just saved him from a harsh beating.

“Umm… Okay.” Sol pulled the sketchbook from where it rested on his chest to hold it out between him and the stranger. He slowly navigated through the pages, properly allowing the person next to him to take in each piece of art. They were a bundle of excitement, commenting excitedly on almost every single little doodle in the book; it brought a small smile to Sol’s face, knowing that someone enjoyed his drawings just as much as he did.

“These are so good! You're so talented! Do you think maybe you can draw me something?” Sol felt his cheeks flush with an odd, unfamiliar warmth. They wanted him to draw something for them. Him? Out of all the people they could have asked? They wanted him to draw for them…

He fidgeted with the pages of the notebook in his hands, keeping his eyes glued to the ground, nervously. “Sure–”

“Wait! Before I forget, my name is Y/N!” They cheerfully cut him off, “What’s yours?” They talked a million words per second, which was a bit overwhelming, but Sol still found himself intrigued by them.

“My name is Solivan…” He spoke quietly, but loud enough for their newfound acquaintance to hear. “Solivan?” They tested his name out, “Well, Solivan from this day forward you are now my friend!” Sol stared at them dumbfounded. He never had a friend before, but didn’t think it would ever be this simple, yet here he was.

He didn’t get a chance to respond to their declaration when they continued to speak, “I’m thinking maybe a butterfly–No wait! A gecko… no…” They continued to list through a variety of animals, as Sol would stand and watch them in awe. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt some sort of connection to his new friend, it wasn’t unwelcome, but it was still strange.

“Oh, I got it! How about a dove? Mom says those are her favorite!” 

Sol raises an eyebrow at them.“Like the bird? Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” They cheer.

Sol only nods his head in response, but a smile remains on his face at their jubilation. He sees the opportunity to speak after your moment of triumph and takes it, “I-um… thank you… for helping me. Not many would’ve done the same.”

They shake their head at him with a smile,“ Don’t mention it. You needed help…so I helped!”, the sincerity in their tone set Sol at ease. He wondered if had truly been missing out. If other kids acted just like Y/N, then maybe talking to others wouldn’t be so bad.

A mature voice suddenly rang out through the playground, catching everyone's attention, “Kids, recess is over! Start lining up with your class!”

“Aww man!” The child next to Sol groans, “Just when we were having fun, too!”. If their definition of fun was getting nearly trampled by a couple of older students, then Sol supposes he had the time of his life… Not really, though, but meeting Y/N was a nice surprise.

Children from all around the playground started to depart, moving to their designated class lines. Y/N started to make their way toward their line before they stopped to turn around to look at Sol one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Solivan! Can’t wait to see the drawing!” And with that, the energetic second-grader gave him one last wave before running over to their class.

Sol gave them a little wave in return, watching as their figure got further and further away. It wasn’t long before he himself started making his way toward his own class, to continue the rest of his day. Of course, his attention wasn’t drawn toward that of his classwork, but rather that of the little dove drawing he spent the rest of the day drawing for that special someone he met.

~

Sol paid no mind as his art teacher rambled on and on about the importance of elements in art; his focus mainly on the small, worn-out sketch pad that lay open on his desk. He lazily drew his fingers along the delicate pencil marks of his old drawing from way back then.

Out of the drawings he had created during his entire childhood, that little dove that he drew for you in the second grade always held a special place in his heart. He remembers how bright your face lit up when he showed it to you the very next day; you insisted that he kept it in his sketchbook, under the circumstance that you get to view it anytime you want–which you would do on the daily.

He shifted his gaze from the paper to where you sat near the front of the classroom, trying your best not to fall asleep during the lecture. His heart ached for you to look at him the way you did when you were kids, now it was like he was a total stranger to you; another student who simply attended the same art class as you.

But with time, you’d eventually grow aware of his existence, you’d have too.

After all, you were his soulmate, just as he was yours.

[thecooler]

Magnetar

You are a mature student at the University of Ooo. You tell people that you resent the term mature student, because, in your own words, it makes you sound like an “old fart.” People respond by telling you that your whole everything makes you sound like an old fart.

Fandom: Adventure Time

Pairing: Simon/Betty

Additional Tags: POV First Person, POV Second Person, Grief/Mourning, Alternate Universes

Word Count: 3,368

AO3 Mirror

Simon Petrikov

You are a mature student at the University of Ooo. You tell people that you resent the term mature student, because, in your own words, it makes you sound like an “old fart.” People respond by telling you that your whole everything makes you sound like an old fart. Regardless of your linguistic preferences, though, you, Simon Petrikov, are living in a college dorm about thirty years and change after you last expected to be.

It’s just you in the room. Last time you were in dorms, you had this wad of a roommate named David, who left his laundry on your side of the room and ate your ramen packets without asking. You’d often told your fiancée, Betty, about David. She always giggled at the disdainful lilt your voice would take when you said his name— David, like you might say the name of your least favorite grade school teacher, or your weirdest ex. David wasn’t your weirdest ex, though, that was a different guy, though his name was also David, which Betty always had a good laugh over the first time you told her.

Betty is coming over later tonight, after you’re done with classes. You love her very much. You’ve been seeing each other for what feels like forever.

You pull a pair of matched socks out of your drawers and slide them on, then adjust your bow tie. You look in the mirror, and for a moment, you see a flash of blue. You blink, and find it’s just yourself staring back. Your hair’s started to grey. Betty thinks it looks good on you.

Betty Grof

The school library has always been something of a safe haven for me. In elementary school, being weird meant that I didn’t keep friends for long, and the librarians were always terribly fond of me. They’d give me little tasks to do, like wiping down tables with a cloth or putting a book or two back if I was good. I relished in these small favors. I’ve always yearned to be useful.

In high school, I managed to make friends, because high school is when people who are ahead of the game realize that being weird and being cool are basically synonyms. And some people still give you grief, but when you have friends, it’s a hell of a lot easier to ignore those people. I didn’t need to spend time in the library, then, to avoid my own loneliness. But I returned anyway, because I found the scent of books and the old, dusty carpet in my hometown’s old library to be a comfort. When I turned sixteen, the director of the library took pity on me and gave me a job. By the time I made my way to University, I was already well on my way to building myself a decent resume.

I don’t remember how I got this particular gig, and it doesn’t really matter.

All that matters is that in this life, this is the library where I met Simon Petrikov.

He’s inevitable, a cosmic force that I feel myself drawn to in every universe. He was a bit older, when I met him here, in his first semester. He was looking for an old volume from Kant. He’s always stubborn— he paced around for a good hour before he asked me for help. When he did, I looked at him and smiled and said, “Are you saying you kant find it?” and he’d laughed way more than the joke called for. He always laughs like that at my jokes, like he thinks I’m the most brilliant person to ever walk the earth. Like he’s never once looked in a mirror.

Simon Petrikov

Your first class is at eight am and all the way across campus. You often joke about how it’s fine, because you could use the cardio and the regular sleep schedule. But you always end up leaving ten minutes late if no one’s pushing you out the door, and you don’t think you’ve ever once jogged willingly in your life. You walk at a regular pace across campus, and you’ll get there when you get there. You don’t usually miss much in the first five minutes anyway, though you don’t love the glare your professor shoots you when you creak open the old, heavy wood door.

You sit in your usual spot and listen to the lecture, but it all sort of starts to blend together. You’re suddenly quite tired, and you can feel your eyelids drooping when shuffling starts around you. With a start, you realize it’s time to head to your next class. You blink and stand up suddenly, stumbling when vertigo gets the better of you. A young man you don’t recognize rests a steadying hand on your shoulder and says, “Come on, Simon, I’ve got you,” and his blue eyes look rather sad.

He’s young, you think, too young to be here, until he’s not. You blink, and he has a beard and a chest tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his tank top. You swear that wasn’t there before. “Simon?” he says again, his brow furrowing. You don’t remember telling him your name.

You look at this young man, and you find yourself at a loss for words. You recognize in his gaze a familiar sense of prolonged grief. You’ve never met him, but somehow you think you’ve known him your whole life, or at least his.

“Are you okay, man?”

You nod, slowly, and it doesn’t seem to convince him. “Betty’s coming over tonight,” you say, “I must have  gotten distracted thinking about it.”

Betty Grof

Once, when we were a lot younger, and before the crown changed everything, Simon and I went hiking together. Usually, when we went on excursions, they were meticulously planned. He had every step of our journey plotted out on a spreadsheet or a numbered list, the creation of which was usually his favorite part of the whole thing. Which wasn’t to say he disliked the excursion— more so that he really liked making lists and spreadsheets.

But we’d gone without this time. I worried it was because I teased him about it, even though he knew it was good-natured, or at least I’m pretty sure he knew. I didn’t think he was actually upset, because Simon always wore his feelings on his sleeve, and when he was worried, he got this crease between his eyebrows. On such occasions, I’d kiss his cheeks until he relented and forgave me, for which I was declared a menace to society. So I don’t know exactly why he decided to forgo the spreadsheet this time, but he refused to make one, even when I tried to nudge him to in the hours before we left.

So we went off into the bush on the outskirts of Seattle, near a farm that some friend of Simon’s owned. We had two backpacks full of trail mix and a sleeping bag, but no tent, because Simon said that he’d been orienteering since he was old enough to walk, and he’d get us out of the bush before we needed to sleep.

Naturally, then, we did not make it out of the forest in time. Instead, we found a nice, open clearing, and we lay down on the grass together and looked at the stars. Simon was fidgeting with his shirt sleeves.

I said, “It’s really okay, Simon. You know I don’t mind a little roughin’ it,” and I waggled my eyebrows. It wasn’t really an innuendo, but I’d never been one to miss an opportunity for a double-entente, no matter how half-baked. I meant it, too. Laying under the stars next to the Simon Petrikov was basically a dream, even after five years of dating. I think it’d been five years. Time is different here, it’s hard to tell. Hard to remember how time moves for mortals.

He turned on his side and he looked at me. Back then, before Evergreen’s crown took root in his mind, his eyes were a deep, thoughtful brown. He said, “You would really tell me when I’ve got a bad idea?”

I turned over and smiled, “Would it stop you if I did?”

And he’d closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and breathed, “No.”

Above, the cosmos shone down, ambivalent to us. It would be hundreds of years yet until we tried to make it ours, and in doing so, fell apart.

Simon Petrikov

You walk to your next class with the unfamiliar old friend. He says he shares the class with you, though you don’t think he seems like the Anthropology type. He pats you on the shoulder and laughs at pretty much everything you say, even when you aren’t making a joke. This feels to you like condescension, but you can’t detect anything other than earnestness in the boy’s face. He looks to be in his early-to-mid twenties, but his eyes are much older.

Your daughter, Marceline, joins you. She has a guitar strapped to her back and you know from experience she isn’t above busting it out in class if she thinks it’ll make the situation funny. Her girlfriend, Bonnie, walks beside her. These are two more people you’ve known for impossibly long, and yet you struggle to pin down any specific memories associated with them. It’s as though your mind is a blank slate, with information slowly being accumulated atop it. Marceline doesn’t look like you, and you don’t think she looks like any of your exes, either. You wonder how the two of you met, then, but you know this is not something you can ask.

She looks back across the hall at you, and you abruptly realize that you’ve stopped walking. You’re staring at her, with her hand in Bonnie’s back pocket, and you feel light— happy. But you don’t have the context for these emotions. Your mind feels like an unorganized mess, as though a cosmic being has reached in and shuffled things around, removed some with the intent to put it back, only she forgot. And now nothing makes sense to you, even things that should be second nature.

Marceline’s brow furrows and her lips tug down into a frown. She presses her palm against the small of Bonnie’s back and whispers something to her, before walking back towards Simon while the other girl makes her way towards class. Somewhere along the way, the boy vanished, like as soon as he was out of your line of sight, he ceased to exist. You tense with the realization that the world around you feels more empty than it ought to be.

Marceline places a hand on your shoulder and meets your eyes. In the reflection of her deep brown irises, you see yourself with ragged white hair, and then one of you blinks, and it’s you again. “Simon,” she says carefully, biting her bottom lip and tapping a finger against your shoulder. She takes what feels like several minutes to decide what she’s going to say, though it can’t be more than thirty seconds.

“Is this about–?”

Betty Grof

There’s a reality where we got the crown (we get it in most of them, one way or another), but it wasn’t you who put it on. Simon took it out and came up behind me and popped it on my head. I remember hearing him say boop and start to laugh, and then the universe exploded around me. This, in my current state, says very little. It’s difficult for me to conceptualize what it would have felt like for my mortal brain, but I think that it was agony. It was, to my best approximation, something like having your skull split open, and then unceremoniously pouring the steaming hot knowledge of the cosmos inside.

Which is to say it was probably about as overwhelming for Simon as it was for me.

But when Simon put on the crown, in that first reality we endured together (for him. There is no first for me, nor a last, they are all as one, but it was the first reality my mortal flesh experiences, and so it is easier to describe it as the first) he only lost me. He thought, at the time, that the madness drove me away, and it took him a thousand years to learn the reality of the situation.

Perhaps it is a mercy, then, that in the reality where I don the crown first, I know immediately what happened to my Simon. The crown slips off my head, and I find him, body entombed in ice, save his head, which lolls lifeless and heavy to one side.

There’s more that happens after that, but I don’t stay long.

Simon Petrikov

Eventually, you’re able to convince Marceline that you’re quite alright, but maybe you could stand to eat soon. The two of you cut class, which makes you momentarily feel like a bit of a wild child. The University has a hall of student-run food outlets, and they vary from quite bad to decent. You are partial to the Greek-themed shop, because the chicken isn’t dry and you’ve always been a fan of tzatziki. You often keep a big tub of it in your fridge, when you aren’t living on campus.

You eat with Marceline, and she tells you that she and Bonnie are doing well, that she thinks Bonnie will graduate at the end of next semester but she’s probably going to take another year. She doesn’t mention what either of them are studying. You think that you should remember that. Why don’t you remember that? 

She asks you if you have any plans for tonight, and you tell her you have a date. Something tells you that you shouldn’t mention who it’s with, and she doesn’t pry, but she does give you a look that feels very sad, and you don’t like how it makes you feel.

Betty Grof

Simon always planned what we were going to do. While he did that, I managed time. Those sorts of things tended to get away from him. He’d get all wrapped up in research, in exploring every last inch of our ventures, and suddenly, he’d look up and it’d be night already. I always knew exactly what time it was. I learned to read the stars and the trajectory of the sun when I was young, and I’d always found comfort in the notion that no matter where I was in the world, I’d know when I was.

Now, time bends strangely around me, and there is equally no future to plan nor past to recall. Everything is happening, has happened, and will never happen. It is not something that my mortal mind was born to conceive of, though I suppose I’m well past that now.

I know all our realities, Simon. I know each of our beginnings and our ends. There are worlds where we die with our hands clasped together in the face of nuclear destruction. There are worlds where you go on without me, and others where I go on without you. There are realities where we linger together for decades, until the inevitability of death pulls us slowly and together into her arms. I spend more time than I should ruminating on these realities.

Simon Petrikov

Sometime after lunch, you end up back in your dorm room. You think you like it here, more so than you’ve liked a lot of your apartments. For one thing, you have easy access to a good library, though the University’s fiction section, as is often the case, leaves something to be desired. You have room for an armchair and a nice standing lamp. You often fall asleep in that chair, and your back does not thank you for it.

There will be none of that tonight, though, because again, you have a date.

You already look good— you always look good— but you like to dress up. Betty usually dresses comfortably, though she’ll put on her best if the situation calls for it, but a regular Friday evening date does not. She’ll be here in a sweater and slacks, and you’ll think she’s the most beautiful thing in the universe. You know, at this point, very little about the universe. You think you know quite a bit, but you’re mistaken. It’s better that way. Our mortal brains aren’t designed to comprehend such concepts. I would know.

Regardless of how good you currently look (very), you strip out of your blazer and button-down. Your tie is a clip-on, which you wouldn’t be caught dead with on a date. Betty doesn’t understand why it matters if they basically look the same, and doesn’t seem to get it no matter how many times you emphasize that it’s the principle of the matter. But that’s fine; you’re dressing up for you, and a little bit for Betty, but mostly for you.

In the end, you aren’t ready until two minutes before your date’s supposed to start. You’ve put on another nearly identical button-down which you insist is your nice one, as well as some nice black slacks and a matching suit jacket. Your tie is properly tied and not clipped on, like some sort of amateur. You fiddle with it in the mirror until you hear a knock on the door, right on time.

You glance away, and out of the corner of your eye, you once again see a flash of blue, but it’s gone when you whip your head back around. You inhale deeply, and exhale slowly through your nose.

I knock again.

You answer.

???

We’re in your dorm room. You’re looking at me, in that lovelorn way you always wore on date nights. It’s like warmth found a home in your eyes, like I can see the burning of your heart through them. You invite me inside and tell me you’ve put the kettle on for tea. You got the English breakfast tea I like.

We’re holding hands under the stars. The dewy grass seeps through clothing that’s too thin for the midnight chill as we sleep under the cold and unforgiving night sky. We’ll survive, but our aging bodies won’t thank us, and when we develop colds a week from now, we know who to blame.

We’re old together. Wrinkles tug at your face in a way I think is terribly handsome, but which you often fuss over. Day by day, simple things grow harder, and when your eyesight starts to go, you cup my face in your hands and whisper, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t see your beautiful face.” I reassure you that you have lived without the sight before and will again, but this doesn’t soothe you. I wish it would.

We’re a thousand years beyond a time we should have ever been allowed to live, and I’m sacrificing my mind to restore yours. I never have a single doubt that you would do the same.

I know now that this is true, I’ve seen it come to fruition, in another life.

The bomb goes off while we lay, hand in hand.

You die cradled in my arms.

We’re in the dorm again, and you’re looking at me with an expression I cannot comprehend. I’ve known you for countless lifetimes, and yet there are still times where you perplex me.

“I don’t know where you end,” I say, and without missing a beat, you return, “I don’t know where I begin.”

Our realities, everything we are, is a web of entanglement from which neither of us can escape, no matter how powerful we become. My end is your beginning, my beginning your end, and everything in between those times, folding in upon each other in an incomprehensible cacophony of misery. I know all, and yet, at times even I struggle to understand it.

You are there, and then you are not.

I can always reach you, in a way, if I so choose. But we will never be as we once were. I know too much now.

Were I capable, I would weep for the loss.

[littlesistersti]

Rant or Trauma Dump: Overblot Leona is Relatable as a Student in American Public School

Will keep this short as possible

Abstract: Leona's trauma = shared trauma but (American) 12th grader student edition. I share my experience. Am I allowed to say it's my trauma when it's just resentment?

Work count: 585

Leona expressed strong resentment at the idea of birth > skill so why r bother trying? Nobody cares. I understood it from a story writing standpoint at first then this came to me and I felt things.

Not sure how common this is around the globe but I went to an American public school for high school/secondary school education (why do I sound like a foreign exchange student haha) and every week of/before homecoming or winter break or some major event, there’s spirit week in which each grade level compete with themed outfits, lunch time activity\games, and assembly games. Win enough points to beat the other grade.

Off topic but my school’s Assembled Student Body have zero creativity for lip sync and themes because why do they keep doing Marvel and Disney? I might as well think we’re sponsored by Disney because we could’ve had HTTYD or Wonder Woman for crying out loud. Also there was a spirit day for “hype beast” in which you wear the high end stuff like Supreme. Well, I was bullied in elementary school for being NOT high income so I held resentment for those things.

Freshman year (9th grade), I did my best but we came in last place. Seniors won. Sophomore year, I felt bad for the freshmen who tried harder than us last year and they lost. Their side was decked out in white, it looked like Big Bear. Seniors won. Junior year, I figured it out it was pointless. Seniors won. Then came our turn. I noticed it. My fellow seniors would not bother trying because they knew they’d win anyway or would cheat the system like raising their hands for points even though they’re not wearing anything spirit (sometimes they be counting shoes). I hated it. I hated it more when the senior favoritism happens before your eyes.

Every winter assembly, there should be a sled race where one player is in a cardboard box and another pulls. Seniors never pull because their box has a giant hole so they can stand up and run to the finish line like a Grinch. I never saw that my senior year. Every assembly ever, there’s supposed to be a clapping game similar to Simon Says. The freshman are always duped on the first “clap” and the seniors don’t even play the game, it’s an applause! A standing ovation even! Even the seniors get to win the lip sync battle every time. Makes me wonder if they could stand in the corner then still win first place. In elective and math (above Algebra 1) classes, you would find mixed grade levels so not sure how much the point-counters scrutinize. They are not nit picky with seniors. If you raise your hand, we don’t check. Below seniors? They check. Yet, I think the cronyism is the main problem.

Seniors don’t need any skill set. They just need to be that class and bam, easy win. Any other class could try as they might and never win. I hated it more when people say, “let them win, they’re graduating.” Might as well give them all passing grades, senior year is the easiest anyways. No worries about senioritis. All the teachers love you because you’re mature baby-adults and about to leave. Hate the freshmen because they’re the hooligans. Let’s bully the freshmen.

Conclusion: Leona is relatable in the birth order > skill set resentment and not trying hard if nobody cares, because of the high school seniors favouritism I witnessed during spirit week.

[latenightgasstationwalk]

One time when I was in like 3rd grade the principal pulled me into a room and screamed in my face like a drill Sargent because I couldn’t hold still while we were in line to go on stage and preform a Christmas choir bullshit thing that I wanted no part in because I knew my parents weren’t able to come so it just felt like a huge waste of time to me. He got big big BIG mad, because as soon as he was done screaming at me, all I said was: “you’re dumb”

I was forced to preform in the dumb Christmas thing, but I did not sing, I only moved my mouth like I was singing.

Same principal who encouraged my parents to put me on aderall and scolded me in front of my entire class multiple times for not being able to eat. Because that totally doesn’t make you feel like a freak, if you don’t already, on account of being the only kid in your class that HAS to be on mini-meth pills to help you focus.

My 3rd grade teacher also made fun of me in front of my entire class for being on aderall, after she (along with my principal) grilled my mother about putting me on said aderall. I went home and told my mom about it and she immediately got in the car and took me to the school and went BIG MODE on this woman. I was outside the classroom but I could hear her going ape Shit on her. My mom was gettin thug in that elementary school. Love that woman. (Incase you’re curious She called on me to answer a question and I wasn’t sure where we were in the book and she said “wow did you take your pill this morning? I know you need it. You need all the help you can get” even my bad little Ass was like wooooow okay you can’t say that to me lmao)

My 8th grade music teacher made us all take a guitar class, this was some time before I had taken an interest in playing music, we all had to preform in front of the class. We could chose between smoke on the water, Elenor Rigby or some other song I don’t remember. I very foolishly chose Elenor Rigby over smoke on the water and totally ate shit in front of the class. She gave me a D (like verbally, in front of the whole class of course, everyone else got their grade in private. But not the freak. He exists to entertain us) and then Stated aloud “that’s okay Jay, you’re just not cut out for music”

Shows what she knows. I Fucking rip at the guitar now. What now miss Thomas, Whatchu guna say now, yeah that’s right you got nothin. *poorly plays cliffs of dover*

One time when I was in high school my best friend overdosed on purpose in an attempt to take his own life, and the SECRETARY, not a teacher, for no reason walked up to me after school and said “you’re a bad friend. I’d never let my friend do something like that” and I was literally like “😦” like. What the Fuck do you even say to that he didn’t even take them at school. I wasn’t FUCKING THERE WHEN HE DID IT YOU DORK.

One time, also in high school, I found a super useful truancy loophole. If you got sent home, they couldn’t send you a truancy ticket. But coincidentally, if you were seen on your phone they’d confiscate it. But if you refused to give them your phone they’d send you to the office. Where you would once again be asked to turn over your phone. If you said no again they’d send you home. So of course I’d just be texting all first period until someone told me to stop and then I’d just leave. Free truancy.

One time, also in high school, I got in trouble for peeing on the building during gym class, but I got away with it by insisting “it was an emergency”

One time in middle school some kid dumped an entire Dr. Pepper on the audio mixing board in the auditorium. It literally wasn’t me. They (principal, vice principal, and the janitor for some reason) walked right up to me during lunch and said that I did it. I had no idea what they were even talking about. I hadn’t even been in the auditorium at this point as it was like the 2nd week of school. They all pulled me into the office and tried to force me to confess to breaking “a $5000 piece of equipment” and I just kept stone walling them and saying it wasn’t me because I knew they had no proof because I DIDNT FUCKING DO IT. They eventually let me go, because they couldn’t prove that I did it, because I didn’t do it.

This other time in middle school, I dumped a whole Dr Pepper on this dumb audio mixing board thing

This other other time, also in middle school, we were given a project where we were supposed to do online research on a celebrity or historical figure and write an essay on their life and accomplishments. I couldn’t decide on who to pick, so I asked my aunt to help me out, she was a huge Elvis fan so she recommended him. I was like “sure okay” and wrote this big ass thing about Elvis’s life and everything and read it infront of the whole class. Every one was snickering at me the entire time but I had no idea why. Until I got done reading the essay and the teacher revealed to me that not only were we assigned people to do the report on, but the project was black history month themed, I don’t think I need to even explain the irony in doing an entire report on Elvis for a black history month themed project. (She was cool and gave me a D instead of an instant fail, which would have been totally understandable)

Also worth mentioning that by 4th grade I could barely see in front of my own face because of my dog shit vision and my parents refused to by me glasses because I kept breaking them. I didn’t get another pair of glasses until my first job when I turned 18. So for alot of these stories I’m also like legally blind.

This other time, when I was in the juvenile detention center, I was sitting in my teachers chair doing an impression of him to make the other kids laugh, because he wasn’t in the room. Except he was in the room. And these teachers can hit you. He like clotheslined me out of the chair and dragged me around by my neck screaming “YOU THINK THATS FUCKING FUNNY??” I didn’t say anything because, between the lack of airflow to my lungs and the crazed laughter, I couldn’t talk at all.

Same year at the same place, they we’re giving kids from one of the high schools in the area a tour of the facility, for some reason. And I once again got grabbed by my neck and dragged into a room and screamed at because I walked by 2 girls from the high school and said “hey ladies :)” what a terrible terrible child I was.

I was ASKED to stop showing up to school my sophomore year. Which I gladly agreed too.

My school experience was so whack.

[schizobass]

Deiforms, Chapter One: The End of All Things (Part Three)

masterpost

It’s not that Sean didn’t like his friends- or, god forbid- his girlfriend. He liked them just fine.

It’s just that they hadn’t known him nearly as long as his old friends had. They didn’t understand him.

Ash knew when he was getting quiet, that meant he was getting overwhelmed. Lori knew when he started fidgeting that that meant he wanted to say something. Miki knew when he huffed out air through his nose it meant he was ready to move on and do something else. Kyrie knew to put the volume in the car on even numbers because odd numbers made Sean uncomfortable.

These guys didn’t know that and, at the end of the day, he wasn’t really sure how to explain it either, so he just kind of went along with whatever they wanted.

He didn’t dislike them, is the point. He didn’t. He just wished sometimes that they knew him a little better.

Lillian looked up when he walked over, and lit up, perfect, pearly teeth shining at him from dark brown lined lips. “Hey big guy! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright. School’s been ass, but what’s new there?”

“Amen to that, big guy,” Dean said, where he was laying on his back, arm covering his face. “I didn’t realize how much I’d miss summer until it wasn’t summer anymore.”

Sean sighed, nodding.

The thing you need to understand is that Madi’s gang wasn’t popular. Definitely no more popular than Ash’s gang. What they gained with Lillian, they lost with Madi herself, and Dean came in with his perfectly average reputation and demolished what minute bias of social standing they had.

And Sean… well, Sean wasn’t particularly popular, nor was he unpopular. People saw him, and recognized him from class and the hallways and the cafeteria, and said hi to him, carefully avoiding names lest they misremember.

He brought nothing to the group, beyond dating Madi, and having known Dean in elementary school when their teacher kept making jokes about their names rhyming (they didn’t if you pronounced them right) and being third or fourth cousins with Lillian.

He didn’t really belong.

But he sat down in the grass, and grabbed a soda from the cooler and cracked it open, taking a swig that was perfectly normal sized, and watching Madi pull out her phone to squint at the screen.

“Ash again?” He asked.

Dean lifted his head, squinting around.

Dean wasn’t very good at being a jock. He wasn’t very handsome after repeatedly getting his face smashed in by a ball and the floor, and he wasn’t mean enough. He also knew too much- just random facts no one knew or wanted to know, and he would happily chime in to any conversation to contribute. He wasn’t much help to the team in basketball games, but he was too good to kick, so he sat in a comfortable limbo of being too well liked by his teammates to be bullied but not well enough liked by his peers not to be. He had been adopted as a child- not from China like so many people seemed to think, but from Pennsylvania. He was half Korean and half Indonesian, but he always told people he was from Pittsburg when asked.

“Is he still calling you?” He asked, squinting in the bright light. “Maybe you should pick up-”

“No, I told you, he’s probably just calling to ask if he can have my leftovers.”

“You said he’s been calling since 6 in the morning, and he was out of the house when you woke up, that’s a little weird.”

“Wait, when did you say this?” Sean asked, blinking.

“The Snapchat groupchat?” Lillian said, before her jaw dropped. “Oh my god, we never added you-”

“-He doesn’t have Snapchat,” Madi said, irritably. “Because he doesn’t know how it works.”

“I don’t,” Sean shrugged weakly. “I don’t understand social media.”

“It’s fine,” Dean said. “I only got it so I can keep track of my teammates.”

“Creep.” Lillian nudged him with her shoe.

The two of them had been dating for a little over a year at this point, but they’d been going out on and off since seventh grade. It’s not like they’d ever broken up- not properly- they just… stopped dating every now and then. And then they got back together. And then they stopped. It was weird.

No one in Sean’s old group was dating. Kyrie and Lori had gone out on one date, back in freshman year, and kissed once, but that was it, and they all vowed not to bring it up. Now, it felt like everyone was a couple.

He kind of missed sitting around in Lori’s basement, bitching about teachers and eating cold pizza and sipping lukewarm soda because the Capsums didn’t believe in putting soda in the fridge.

But that was the past now.

Things were different.

During their last hangout, before he’d gone to the dark side, he’d warned them he wasn’t going to be eating lunch with them anymore, because Madi wanted to hang out with him more, and the way they all looked at him, disbelieving and incredulous, the way Kyrie laughed a little bit… it hurt.

It’d been a while- long enough that Sean thought that he was getting used to it. But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he never would.

“Do you guys think,” Lillian started, taking a long sip of her drink. “That there’s such a thing as God?”

“What?” Dean asked, rolling over.

“I had a weird dream last night, and I think I believe in God, now. What do you guys think, though?”

Sean huffed, laying back on the grass.

That was one thing about this group- the conversations were weird.

Dean had only just started to get rolling with the more complicated details of his theology lecture when Sean’s phone rang.

“If it’s Ash, ignore it.” Madi said, calmly, from her perch atop the cooler.

It wasn’t. It was Lori, so he picked up.

For just a second, everything was fine. Everything was perfectly alright and nothing was wrong. For just a moment, Dean was explaining monotheism to Lillian while Madi took a hit of her grape vape, and he sat there with his phone to his ear, and said “Hey, Lori, what’s up?” like it was any other call.

“Sean,” Lori said, their voice wrecked. Static wrenched the phone, and in the background, sirens could be heard. “Sean, something’s happened.”

Madi’s phone rang. She pulled it out, irritated, but upon seeing the name, she paused, before answering it, putting it up to her ear.

“What… what happened, Lori?” Sean asked, still staring at Madi, hunting for clues.

“There was a fire,” Lori said, as Madi’s eyes widened. “At my house. We were all inside, and-”

“Fuck,” Sean gasped out, suddenly feeling a horrible crushing weight on his chest. “Is everyone okay?”

Madi screamed, throwing the phone and collapsing to the ground in a little ball, covering her head and sobbing. Lillian and Dean rushed to her, reaching out to grab her, trying to pry her hands from her hair.

“Lori?” Sean asked, duly.

“Ash didn’t make it out.”

[andipxndy-writes]

birthday surprises

fandom: abbott elementary

warnings: none

requested by: @abbottwritersclub prompt!!

word count: 3.6k

cross-posted to ao3

summary: “I can’t believe Barbara didn’t like the idea of a birthday party,” Janine muttered. Glancing at her, Gregory had to force down the thought that she looked cute like that — with her chin in her palm and her curls framing her face like that. “We had everything planned perfectly, even down to music we thought she’d like…”

“I even got her a really great cake,” Jacob added.

“You got her name spelled wrong,” Gregory pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean the cake didn’t taste good.”

Or, what happened in the aftermath of the After School Squad planning a party for the one and only Barbara Howard.

birthday surprises

Being scolded was never fun. It had been a horrid part of Gregory’s childhood, and he’d hated every incidence of scolding with every single fibre of his being. And considering the kind of person his father was, he’d ended up being scolded and told off more often than he’d been praised for actually trying. That was his life. That had been his childhood. In a way, it was how his relationship with his father had continued into adulthood. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

But now?

Now he somehow felt worse than every single time he’d been scolded in his childhood.

Maybe it was more the fact that he was being scolded by someone he had not only looked up to, but had also looked to him and respected him in his own environment. It wasn’t as though he had to try to earn their respect. He’d just been himself, trying to be the best teacher he could to all of these kids. He was being scolded by someone who was like a parent to him at school, who gave him all of the advice that he needed to be the best teacher that he could.

And yet, in trying to be the best teacher that he could be to his kids, and being the best friend he could be to Janine and Jacob, he’d let down the person he’d been helping them to try and celebrate anyway.

In other words, they had managed to infuriate Barbara fantastically. Like, he was very sure that no one had managed to anger Barbara that much before just by trying to throw her a birthday party. Granted, he wasn’t sure that anyone had tried to throw her a birthday party before, and certainly not in her classroom.

Maybe she hadn’t been able to completely show how angry she was, considering she was in front of all her kids and they’d been incredibly excited at the idea of having a party for their teacher because it was her birthday, but Gregory could tell. Gregory was keen enough to tell when someone was angry with him. That had been his whole childhood, after all. Avoiding the anger and trying to stay on his father’s good side—

Oh, now he was just dwelling on his past. Nope, that wouldn’t do.

It didn’t take him long to climb the stairs up to the second floor, using his long legs to take the stairs at least two at a time, but then he was on the upper floor and rounding into the staff room — with all of the kids in gym class in the hall (which was being led by one of the gym teachers and meant that everyone else could get a break whilst multiple games were being sorted out for them all), the hallways were all practically empty, and that was perfect for getting from Barbara’s classroom to the staff room without much, if any, issue. Walking into the staff room, he headed straight for his usual table over by the window, sitting in his usual seat with his back to the rest of the room. Leaving, of course, the window seat for Janine, and the seat facing away from the couches for Jacob. Their usual seating. Nothing  changed, nothing different, nothing new. Just normal. Perfectly normal.

The look that Melissa gave him from her seat on the next table over, where she’d pulled out her phone to scroll through whatever messages she had whilst drinking her coffee, made Gregory want to squirm a little. She knew. He was very sure that she knew. And he was also sure that Barbara hadn’t had the chance to tell her yet, which meant that she was definitely some sort of psychic that knew everything anyway.

Oh he was so very screwed.

That was the point at which Jacob and Janine, both of them with shorter legs than he had, entered the staff room as well. And whilst Gregory had hoped that he was at least able to mask his disappointment in the whole situation and how it had turned out in the end, he could see for a fact that Janine and Jacob were considerably worse at hiding their true feelings on the situation. Which meant that people could see how they were feeling.

And with both of them seemingly feeling the same way? They were going to get questions, he knew it.

The two of them joining him at their usual table, in their usual spots, simply meant that he was going to get the questions as well.

It certainly didn’t help that as soon as the two of them sat down, their elbows were on the table and their chins were in their palms. And somehow, somehow, they managed to sigh simultaneously. Which did not help Gregory’s whole idea to try and seem like they hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I can’t believe Barbara didn’t like the idea of a birthday party,” Janine muttered. Glancing at her, Gregory had to force down the thought that she looked cute like that — with her chin in her palm and her curls framing her face like that. “We had everything planned perfectly, even down to music we thought she’d like…”

“I even got her a really great cake,” Jacob added.

“You got her name spelled wrong,” Gregory pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean the cake didn’t taste good.”

It took all of Gregory’s willpower not to point out that the misspelling of her name probably ruined the whole sentimentality behind getting her the birthday cake.

“Maybe we should’ve asked her before deciding to try and throw her a surprise birthday party in her classroom,” Janine sighed.

“I’m sorry. What did you do?”

Melissa’s voice suddenly appearing behind Gregory was enough to make all three of them jump sky high, three heads swivelling towards her. She stood behind them with her arms folded, staring the three of them down with a look that Gregory was very sure she mostly reserved for her second graders.

He knew for a fact that it would work on them too, and if anything, it was working very well in that exact moment.

Janine was the first to cave.

“Well, it’s Barbara’s birthday,” she started, and that seemed to be enough for Melissa to get the gist of what had happened.

“Please tell me you didn’t throw her a party.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

“There was confetti,” Janine admitted. “And balloons.”

“And cake,” Jacob added.

“You got her name spelled wrong on the cake,” Gregory muttered.

“That wasn’t me! I gave the bakery the right spelling!”

Gregory didn’t need to be looking over his shoulder to know that Melissa was trying very hard not to just… let her head fall into her hands. He knew this because he would be doing the same thing if he were in her position, just watching how the three of them could wreck something up that badly.

And then, suddenly, there was the screech of a chair’s legs being dragged across the floor, and Gregory turned to see Melissa pulling her seat over to their table. He quickly scooted aside to make room for her, watching as Jacob did the same, and he couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated when she seemingly made herself welcome at their table.

But only a little.

“Okay, so, before I start, I wanna get one thing straight,” Melissa started, making eye contact with all of them at the table. “What possessed you, any of you, to throw Barbara a party?”

Gregory expected Janine to respond to the question and save him from explaining how it hadn’t originally been his idea, he’d just followed Janine (because she was cute, and he wanted to). She did not disappoint.

“Well, you know…” Janine started, mumbling something to herself before looking Melissa in the eyes. “You guys… well, Barbara mostly, you always do something for your kids on their birthdays. Like, giving them little treats, or maybe your classroom does something fun for the day. I just thought that it would be fun for the kids to know that their teachers also have birthdays, and it’s nice to celebrate everyone.”

“Yeah,” Jacob chimed in. “And we also wanted to give the kids a fun little way to wind down. Because it’s the end of the school year, and they’ve worked so hard—”

“That’s what the field trips are for,” Melissa cut in.

Jacob promptly shut his mouth.

And then Melissa’s eyes were on Gregory, and he froze, his eyes wide. She was also expecting him to say something. And his answer obviously could not be, ‘I wanted to impress Janine so I helped her because I can reach things up high.’

He glanced at the other two, who were clearly waiting for him to speak, before clearing his throat and looking back at Melissa. “Well… like Janine said… you guys do a lot for the kids. We all do. So we wanted the kids to have a chance to appreciate one of their teachers on a day that wasn’t just Teacher Appreciation.” He paused for the briefest of moments. “And a birthday is a good day to celebrate anyone.”

He heard Janine and Jacob’s nods of agreement more than he could see them.

Melissa looked between the three teachers, before leaning more on the table. “Look, do you know why we don’t throw birthday parties for the teachers with the kids?”

“Because you want to keep your lives private?” Gregory asked.

“Because you want to keep the kids focused?” Janine asked.

“Because you know that throwing a party for the kids ends up with a lot of trash and waste in resources?” Jacob asked.

Gregory was very sure that the look he gave Jacob was the least puzzled look, and his was very puzzled.

“Okay, you’re the furthest from the right answer,” Melissa pointed to Jacob. “No gold sticker for you. But you two,” she pointed to Gregory and Janine, “are close.”

“Do we get gold stickers?” Janine asked. From the look in her eyes, Gregory honestly couldn’t tell whether she was being serious or not.

From the look in Melissa’s eyes, she was barely holding back a comment that would definitely make Janine look like a kicked puppy.

“We try not to get the kids too involved in our lives, because when we do, that opens the door to us bringing down that barrier between home and work. We leave our home things at home, and put on our work personalities and keep them on until we step out of those doors at the end of the day.”

“Even with birthdays?” Janine asked, her brows furrowed in concern. “Because everyone deserves to have their birthday celebrated.”

“And not everyone wants to have their celebrated. Did you think about that?”

Gregory very quickly realised that none of them thought about that.

Melissa breathed out through her nose, pursing her lips. “Alright, look,” she started, looking between all three of them. “I fully understand that you three were trying to do a good thing. And it was a good thing you were trying to do. Your hearts are in the right place, for the kids… and for us.” Gregory almost felt as though she had to force those words out of her mouth and ignore the side of her that was saying not to boost their egos too much. “But did any of you even ask whether Barbara wanted a birthday party? Whether she wanted her birthday celebrated at all?”

Gregory knew that he hadn’t, and he had a very strong feeling that Janine and Jacob hadn’t either.

“You went into her classroom and threw her a party that she didn’t even want, and now you’re sitting here wondering why she’s upset?”

Janine’s lips pursed. “Maybe… maybe we overstepped some boundaries.”

“You think?” Melissa pushed herself to her feet, about to turn and head back over to her table, when she paused. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you three how to fix this, because I’m pretty sure you can work that out for yourselves, but I’m really hoping you guys remember the importance of consent over surprises next time. Because some surprises, just ain’t nice surprises.” She gave each of them a look, before finally shifting her chair back over to her own table and sitting down.

Gregory turned to the other two — Janine, who was biting her lip, and Jacob who had his fist pressed to his mouth. Somehow the two of them had an incredible amount of guilt on their faces. Sure, he also felt guilty but… those two…

“We’ve got to apologise to her,” Jacob muttered. “Give her something to say we’re sorry. Like—”

“We’re not getting her another cake, Jacob,” Janine cut him off, the guilt in her eyes making way for slight irritation.

(Gregory had to admit he had to try not to smile at that.)

***

Even though they’d all wanted to apologise to Barbara, all three of them were aware that Barbara not only had her class with her, but their own classes would be returning from the gym soon. And return they did, because as soon as they decided they would go and apologise to Barbara, the bell rang, and they were all heading back to their classrooms with their kids.

Watching his kids chatting and doing their work together, Gregory sat at his desk, thinking. Leaning back in his chair. Chin on his fist. He didn’t usually let his mind wander during class, but for some reason he just couldn’t stop thinking about how he needed to find a way to apologise to Mrs. Howard. Maybe it had been the look on Janine’s face when she realised she’d overstepped (after all that time she’d spent practicing how not to do exactly that); or maybe it was how excited they’d all been beforehand about doing something for someone who had helped them out a whole lot, only for it to backfire. By the time the bell rang to signal the end of the day, though, he’d had more than enough time to think on his actions and how they’d led to the experienced consequences.

He was going to apologise as soon as all of his kids had left for the day.

Heading over to his door and opening it, he was watching his kids pack up when he heard it.

Music. Coming from down the corridor.

He frowned as he popped his head out of the classroom, looking around before meeting Janine’s eyes. She looked just as puzzled.

“Where is that music coming from?” she asked, the two of them idly letting their kids pass out of their classrooms and head home for the day. If anything, Gregory wished their little legs could move that bit faster so that he could go and investigate, when he realised something. He looked over his shoulder towards Barbara’s classroom.

Her doors were still shut, even with some of the parents already heading in to collect their kids.

He turned back to Janine with raised eyebrows, and the look on her face pretty much mirrored his. He wanted to ask what was going on, but he knew that Janine also wanted to ask what was going on, and neither of them would find out until their kids were gone and they could head down to her classroom.

Which is exactly what ended up happening about ten minutes later. Parents of the kindergarteners were either milling about outside the classroom or were inside the classroom itself by the time they got there, but taking a peek into the classroom, Gregory couldn’t help but smile a little.

Barbara Howard was standing by her desk, chatting with a couple of the parents, with a paper crown on her head. Kids were, obviously, dancing around her classroom and playing with the balloons they’d blown up earlier, and Gregory was very sure that the small paper plates on the tables had had cake on them — though, by this point, all of the cake had been eaten and was either smeared all over the kids’ faces or on the tables themselves, which would obviously be very fun to clean. What hit him most, though, was the fact that everyone was chatting and smiling and there was not a single worksheet out on either Barbara’s desk or any of the kids’ tables.

They hadn’t done any work. They’d had a party.

Feeling Janine nudge him excitedly, he smiled down at her.

Maybe they’d upset Barbara earlier, but it looked like her plan had worked.

It took them a bit of time to get into the classroom, past all the parents and their kids milling about the place, but once they got in Barbara was on her own, standing and watching everything going on. Gregory decided to approach her first, Janine hanging back a little.

“Hi, Mrs. Howard,” he greeted, and the older teacher raised an eyebrow at him. She had a smile on her face though, which made Gregory feel far less self-conscious about the raised eyebrow directed his way.

“Gregory,” she greeted simply, and then she was also smiling at Janine. “Janine. What can I do for you both?”

“Well…” He glanced at Janine, who was now beside him and looked almost as nervous as he was feeling right then, and then he looked back at Barbara. “I… we just wanted to apologise. For overstepping earlier and deciding to throw you a birthday party without asking you first.”

“Yeah,” Janine added on, drawing Barbara’s attention to her. “We didn’t think about whether you actually wanted to celebrate your birthday or have a party, and we got everything ready without thinking about how you would feel. Especially since you probably had a lesson plan for the rest of the day that probably got derailed by us setting everything out for you, because the kids…”

Even as Janine trailed off, Gregory looked around. The kids that were still there looked like they were having a lot of fun, and absolutely wouldn’t be willing to sit down and do any work if Barbara asked them to. They were kindergarteners, and they’d found something fun.

And they were probably hyped up on sugar from the cake. (That frosting looked real sweet.)

“I appreciate the apology, from both of you.” Barbara’s words drew their gazes back to her, and she was smiling at them both — genuinely smiling, not politely teacher-smiling. “It’s much appreciated, truly.” She glanced around the classroom, at the children who were now heading out with their parents, at the excited mess that had been caused by children filled with cake playing with their toys everywhere and dancing on their makeshift dance floor, at the confetti that covered every surface and the few balloons left behind on the tables. There were a few moments where they stood there in silence, and then, “If I’m being completely honest, I appreciate what the three of you were trying to do here. The fact that you all thought of me and wanted to give me a special day is incredibly thoughtful of you all, truly.”

This time, as she looked around the classroom, Gregory noticed there was an almost wistful look in her gaze. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I celebrated my birthday with a party, if ever.”

“Did the kids bring you those sunflowers?”

Gregory followed Janine’s gaze to Barbara’s desk, where a vase with sunflowers sat, bright and yellow and happy.

Barbara chuckled as she glanced back at the vase herself. “Yes, they did. One of the children told their mother, and she brought in flowers on behalf of all the kids.” She sent both Janine and Gregory a look. “I wonder who told them to get me a present and what they could get me?”

Gregory couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face at that, and he didn’t need to look at Janine to know that she was absolutely beaming.

“Well, I… we are glad that you’ve enjoyed your birthday,” Gregory spoke up for both of them, his eyes flicking over towards Janine at the word “we”.

Janine was nodding enthusiastically beside him. “Yeah. Everyone deserves to have their birthday celebrated, and have their special day recognised, and you do so much for your kids that you deserve to have them do something for you.”

Barbara glanced around the classroom, before smiling kindly again at the two younger teachers. “Well, I’m very sure that we all enjoyed everything that happened today. The children had a wonderful time, and I…” She huffed out a small laugh. “I enjoyed watching them have fun. Thank you both for this whole idea.”

“You’re wel—”

“Oh my god, did they actually throw the party in here?”

Gregory looked over towards the doorway as Jacob’s voice floated into the room, and his expression of genuine surprise was clearly enough to make Barbara chuckle.

“I hear thanks are owed to you as well, Jacob,” Barbara called out as Jacob headed into the room and began looking around. All of the children had gone by this point, but as usual, all of the toys had been left out. Paper plates from when they’d been eating their slices of cake were still on all the tables. And music was still playing from when the children had been on their makeshift dance floor.

“Oh yeah!” Janine’s eyes widened excitedly. “Jacob got the cake! How did the kids find it?”

Gregory caught the way Barbara glanced between them and Jacob, as though she was trying to debate on how to phrase what she wanted to say. And then, of course, she decided to simply say it.

“The cake was lovely… but my name was spelled wrong…”

The snort Gregory gave in response to the comment was loud, admittedly, but the laughter that began to bubble from his throat as Jacob spluttered and tried to explain how it wasn’t his fault was louder and blended wonderfully with Janine’s own giggles.

[cleverhottubmiracle]

I was in my first semester of teaching college students when I quickly learned how helpless some of my students were. Some showed up to class in clearly dirty clothing. As I prepared for starting class, I would overhear the students chatting. Each semester, I had students who admitted, embarrassed-not-embarrassed, that they hadn’t washed their laundry in weeks. They were waiting to head home for an upcoming long weekend or holiday break — that’s when their parents could handle their adult child’s mountain of dirty hoodies. This wasn’t the only issue some of my 18-, 19-, and 20-year-old students had. Some didn’t know how to make an appointment for a medical exam, because they’d never had to do it before. Others complained about roommate drama, partially due to communication blunders, but mostly surrounding lack of cleanliness. They observed stacks of dishes, laundry tossed on the floor, and overflowing trash cans. Related story A Pregnant Woman's Husband Is 'Frustrated' She's Not Feeling Up to Chores & Reddit Put Him in His Place The more semesters I taught, the more I realized how helpless many of my students were (and felt). They legitimately didn’t know how to properly load a dishwasher, prepare basic meals, or treat a clothing stain. Sure, they could have looked it up online, but this isn’t a substitute for being shown and having the opportunity to practice — something I think should have occurred when they were younger and living at home. My students who struggled with chores weren’t necessarily lazy. They showed up to class each day, they did their assignments, and many managed to go to school while working multiple jobs. They simply had never been taught, many of them having the privilege of their parents doing all the chores for them. I made up my mind, in those nine years of teaching, that my children wouldn’t head out into the real world without the skills to take care of themselves and their place of residence. They needed to learn, from a young age, to respect their surroundings and their belongings. Parents who decide to take on all the household chores do their children a grave disservice, and I was seeing it firsthand in the college setting. Let me pause here and empathize with you if you are one of those parents who does it all for your kids. From a parent’s perspective, I get it. Our kids are busy with school and their activities. They have full, chaotic lives which are hopefully paving the path for them to be successful humans. And let’s face it — sometimes just doing things ourselves is far easier than endlessly nagging them to do it. However, when we cram our kids’ schedules (and our own) to the point where there’s no space left to teach our kids to function in the future in the most basic ways, or give in because we’d rather not argue about it, we’re doing more harm than good. My four kids, ranging from elementary to high school, have daily chores — and have for years. In this house, every person pulls their weight. I’ve explained to my kids that our family is like a team, and teamwork is required. If we all do our part, our home runs better. They also learn so many lessons by working in their daily chore, such as time management, confidence, and communication. Think about it: these are things they need to get in order to be a good student and future employee. Now before you think I am raising perfect angels, my kids, like all kids, grumble over their daily chore. However, they also know that helping load the dishwasher, packing their own lunch, hanging up their clean shirts, or vacuuming the family vehicle is a non-negotiable. My kids’ assigned chores are based on their age, maturity, and ability. Sometimes, we teamwork chores, and other times, they’re on their own. If they encounter an issue, like the vacuum gets clogged up or they can’t find the cleaning spray, we will always be there to help them.  They have options to make their chores more pleasant, like listening to their favorite playlists while sweeping the porch or changing their sheets. Yes, my kids change their own sheets — weekly. They also do their own laundry, dust, sweep, and do a myriad of other chores. Sure, my kids have said that no other kid in the whole universe (impressive, right?) has a daily chore. One of my kids said that they do all the work and we, the parents, do none. I laughed out loud. Then I matured up a bit and listed for them every single thing I’d done that day for the family. This was not limited to writing three articles (you know, because I have a job), unloading the dishwasher, washing all the family’s bath towels, making four appointments, filling out school permission slips, preparing homemade muffins for the next morning’s breakfast, and then leaving in plenty of time to pick them up from school. It’s called adulting, and it’s not always fun. However, I’m glad that my own parents required my siblings and me to do chores so we didn’t grow up to be entitled and helpless. Now, you may think, I just said “adulting.” Shouldn’t chores be just for adults? Shouldn’t we leave our children’s time open for the things that matter most? I implore you to consider that chores are an essential part of raising kids. It’s essential just like school, extracurriculars, religious services, family time, exercise, and anything else your family has prioritized in order to raise your kids to be good adults. Additionally, a simple chore or two a day really isn’t a huge deal. It doesn’t require loads of time or effort. However, it becomes normalized while having the benefit of teaching kids important lessons and skills. As a former college teacher, I don’t want you sending your child to me one day, your child who is now in a grown-up body, without grown-up skills. If my 7-year-old can load her dirty laundry into the washing machine, pour detergent in, and start the machine on the correct cycle, so can your tween. If my nine-year-old can wipe down the kitchen counter after dinner, sweep the floor, and make their own healthy lunch for the next school day, so can your teen. Don’t buy into the we’re-too-busy for chores nonsense, or fall into the trap of just doing it yourself to avoid hearing them gripe. Having your child do chores is a matter of priority and patience. Clearly communicate what you expect — and why. Know that the grumbling will happen, but that’s just part of the kid-parent dynamic. By prioritizing chores, just as much as other essentials, you’re giving your child an incredible lifelong gift. They may not be happy about it now, but they will thank you later. Source link

[norajworld]

I was in my first semester of teaching college students when I quickly learned how helpless some of my students were. Some showed up to class in clearly dirty clothing. As I prepared for starting class, I would overhear the students chatting. Each semester, I had students who admitted, embarrassed-not-embarrassed, that they hadn’t washed their laundry in weeks. They were waiting to head home for an upcoming long weekend or holiday break — that’s when their parents could handle their adult child’s mountain of dirty hoodies. This wasn’t the only issue some of my 18-, 19-, and 20-year-old students had. Some didn’t know how to make an appointment for a medical exam, because they’d never had to do it before. Others complained about roommate drama, partially due to communication blunders, but mostly surrounding lack of cleanliness. They observed stacks of dishes, laundry tossed on the floor, and overflowing trash cans. Related story A Pregnant Woman's Husband Is 'Frustrated' She's Not Feeling Up to Chores & Reddit Put Him in His Place The more semesters I taught, the more I realized how helpless many of my students were (and felt). They legitimately didn’t know how to properly load a dishwasher, prepare basic meals, or treat a clothing stain. Sure, they could have looked it up online, but this isn’t a substitute for being shown and having the opportunity to practice — something I think should have occurred when they were younger and living at home. My students who struggled with chores weren’t necessarily lazy. They showed up to class each day, they did their assignments, and many managed to go to school while working multiple jobs. They simply had never been taught, many of them having the privilege of their parents doing all the chores for them. I made up my mind, in those nine years of teaching, that my children wouldn’t head out into the real world without the skills to take care of themselves and their place of residence. They needed to learn, from a young age, to respect their surroundings and their belongings. Parents who decide to take on all the household chores do their children a grave disservice, and I was seeing it firsthand in the college setting. Let me pause here and empathize with you if you are one of those parents who does it all for your kids. From a parent’s perspective, I get it. Our kids are busy with school and their activities. They have full, chaotic lives which are hopefully paving the path for them to be successful humans. And let’s face it — sometimes just doing things ourselves is far easier than endlessly nagging them to do it. However, when we cram our kids’ schedules (and our own) to the point where there’s no space left to teach our kids to function in the future in the most basic ways, or give in because we’d rather not argue about it, we’re doing more harm than good. My four kids, ranging from elementary to high school, have daily chores — and have for years. In this house, every person pulls their weight. I’ve explained to my kids that our family is like a team, and teamwork is required. If we all do our part, our home runs better. They also learn so many lessons by working in their daily chore, such as time management, confidence, and communication. Think about it: these are things they need to get in order to be a good student and future employee. Now before you think I am raising perfect angels, my kids, like all kids, grumble over their daily chore. However, they also know that helping load the dishwasher, packing their own lunch, hanging up their clean shirts, or vacuuming the family vehicle is a non-negotiable. My kids’ assigned chores are based on their age, maturity, and ability. Sometimes, we teamwork chores, and other times, they’re on their own. If they encounter an issue, like the vacuum gets clogged up or they can’t find the cleaning spray, we will always be there to help them.  They have options to make their chores more pleasant, like listening to their favorite playlists while sweeping the porch or changing their sheets. Yes, my kids change their own sheets — weekly. They also do their own laundry, dust, sweep, and do a myriad of other chores. Sure, my kids have said that no other kid in the whole universe (impressive, right?) has a daily chore. One of my kids said that they do all the work and we, the parents, do none. I laughed out loud. Then I matured up a bit and listed for them every single thing I’d done that day for the family. This was not limited to writing three articles (you know, because I have a job), unloading the dishwasher, washing all the family’s bath towels, making four appointments, filling out school permission slips, preparing homemade muffins for the next morning’s breakfast, and then leaving in plenty of time to pick them up from school. It’s called adulting, and it’s not always fun. However, I’m glad that my own parents required my siblings and me to do chores so we didn’t grow up to be entitled and helpless. Now, you may think, I just said “adulting.” Shouldn’t chores be just for adults? Shouldn’t we leave our children’s time open for the things that matter most? I implore you to consider that chores are an essential part of raising kids. It’s essential just like school, extracurriculars, religious services, family time, exercise, and anything else your family has prioritized in order to raise your kids to be good adults. Additionally, a simple chore or two a day really isn’t a huge deal. It doesn’t require loads of time or effort. However, it becomes normalized while having the benefit of teaching kids important lessons and skills. As a former college teacher, I don’t want you sending your child to me one day, your child who is now in a grown-up body, without grown-up skills. If my 7-year-old can load her dirty laundry into the washing machine, pour detergent in, and start the machine on the correct cycle, so can your tween. If my nine-year-old can wipe down the kitchen counter after dinner, sweep the floor, and make their own healthy lunch for the next school day, so can your teen. Don’t buy into the we’re-too-busy for chores nonsense, or fall into the trap of just doing it yourself to avoid hearing them gripe. Having your child do chores is a matter of priority and patience. Clearly communicate what you expect — and why. Know that the grumbling will happen, but that’s just part of the kid-parent dynamic. By prioritizing chores, just as much as other essentials, you’re giving your child an incredible lifelong gift. They may not be happy about it now, but they will thank you later. Source link

[chilimili212]

I was in my first semester of teaching college students when I quickly learned how helpless some of my students were. Some showed up to class in clearly dirty clothing. As I prepared for starting class, I would overhear the students chatting. Each semester, I had students who admitted, embarrassed-not-embarrassed, that they hadn’t washed their laundry in weeks. They were waiting to head home for an upcoming long weekend or holiday break — that’s when their parents could handle their adult child’s mountain of dirty hoodies. This wasn’t the only issue some of my 18-, 19-, and 20-year-old students had. Some didn’t know how to make an appointment for a medical exam, because they’d never had to do it before. Others complained about roommate drama, partially due to communication blunders, but mostly surrounding lack of cleanliness. They observed stacks of dishes, laundry tossed on the floor, and overflowing trash cans. Related story A Pregnant Woman's Husband Is 'Frustrated' She's Not Feeling Up to Chores & Reddit Put Him in His Place The more semesters I taught, the more I realized how helpless many of my students were (and felt). They legitimately didn’t know how to properly load a dishwasher, prepare basic meals, or treat a clothing stain. Sure, they could have looked it up online, but this isn’t a substitute for being shown and having the opportunity to practice — something I think should have occurred when they were younger and living at home. My students who struggled with chores weren’t necessarily lazy. They showed up to class each day, they did their assignments, and many managed to go to school while working multiple jobs. They simply had never been taught, many of them having the privilege of their parents doing all the chores for them. I made up my mind, in those nine years of teaching, that my children wouldn’t head out into the real world without the skills to take care of themselves and their place of residence. They needed to learn, from a young age, to respect their surroundings and their belongings. Parents who decide to take on all the household chores do their children a grave disservice, and I was seeing it firsthand in the college setting. Let me pause here and empathize with you if you are one of those parents who does it all for your kids. From a parent’s perspective, I get it. Our kids are busy with school and their activities. They have full, chaotic lives which are hopefully paving the path for them to be successful humans. And let’s face it — sometimes just doing things ourselves is far easier than endlessly nagging them to do it. However, when we cram our kids’ schedules (and our own) to the point where there’s no space left to teach our kids to function in the future in the most basic ways, or give in because we’d rather not argue about it, we’re doing more harm than good. My four kids, ranging from elementary to high school, have daily chores — and have for years. In this house, every person pulls their weight. I’ve explained to my kids that our family is like a team, and teamwork is required. If we all do our part, our home runs better. They also learn so many lessons by working in their daily chore, such as time management, confidence, and communication. Think about it: these are things they need to get in order to be a good student and future employee. Now before you think I am raising perfect angels, my kids, like all kids, grumble over their daily chore. However, they also know that helping load the dishwasher, packing their own lunch, hanging up their clean shirts, or vacuuming the family vehicle is a non-negotiable. My kids’ assigned chores are based on their age, maturity, and ability. Sometimes, we teamwork chores, and other times, they’re on their own. If they encounter an issue, like the vacuum gets clogged up or they can’t find the cleaning spray, we will always be there to help them.  They have options to make their chores more pleasant, like listening to their favorite playlists while sweeping the porch or changing their sheets. Yes, my kids change their own sheets — weekly. They also do their own laundry, dust, sweep, and do a myriad of other chores. Sure, my kids have said that no other kid in the whole universe (impressive, right?) has a daily chore. One of my kids said that they do all the work and we, the parents, do none. I laughed out loud. Then I matured up a bit and listed for them every single thing I’d done that day for the family. This was not limited to writing three articles (you know, because I have a job), unloading the dishwasher, washing all the family’s bath towels, making four appointments, filling out school permission slips, preparing homemade muffins for the next morning’s breakfast, and then leaving in plenty of time to pick them up from school. It’s called adulting, and it’s not always fun. However, I’m glad that my own parents required my siblings and me to do chores so we didn’t grow up to be entitled and helpless. Now, you may think, I just said “adulting.” Shouldn’t chores be just for adults? Shouldn’t we leave our children’s time open for the things that matter most? I implore you to consider that chores are an essential part of raising kids. It’s essential just like school, extracurriculars, religious services, family time, exercise, and anything else your family has prioritized in order to raise your kids to be good adults. Additionally, a simple chore or two a day really isn’t a huge deal. It doesn’t require loads of time or effort. However, it becomes normalized while having the benefit of teaching kids important lessons and skills. As a former college teacher, I don’t want you sending your child to me one day, your child who is now in a grown-up body, without grown-up skills. If my 7-year-old can load her dirty laundry into the washing machine, pour detergent in, and start the machine on the correct cycle, so can your tween. If my nine-year-old can wipe down the kitchen counter after dinner, sweep the floor, and make their own healthy lunch for the next school day, so can your teen. Don’t buy into the we’re-too-busy for chores nonsense, or fall into the trap of just doing it yourself to avoid hearing them gripe. Having your child do chores is a matter of priority and patience. Clearly communicate what you expect — and why. Know that the grumbling will happen, but that’s just part of the kid-parent dynamic. By prioritizing chores, just as much as other essentials, you’re giving your child an incredible lifelong gift. They may not be happy about it now, but they will thank you later. Source link

[micaellaraine]

“TADHANA”

Prologue

Baguio was more than a hometown; it was where five friends—Rishi, Yesha, Lucas, Zlan, and Luna—built unbreakable bonds. From childhood to college, they faced life’s ups and downs together, each finding their own path yet holding onto the memories they shared.

Zlan and Luna’s love was like a promise of forever. But sometimes, tadhana—destiny—tests even the strongest connections. When illness strikes, the friends must learn that love and friendship aren’t bound by time. Even as life changes, some promises, they’ll find, last beyond a lifetime.

Chapter 1: The Circle

There was a tight circle of friends from the quiet, misty town of Baguio. They’d known each other forever, it seemed—since those early, innocent days of grade school, when life was all about playing tag, staying out until the sun dipped low, and sharing secrets on the playground. They were five: Zlan, Rishi, Yesha, Lucas, and Luna. Five young souls, bound by laughter, shared dreams, and promises they once swore they’d keep forever.

As the years passed, they grew up together. They moved from being kids at the same elementary school to high school classmates, facing teenage life hand in hand. Their friendship grew stronger, and together, they learned about love, heartbreak, and everything in between. And now, they found themselves in college, still a team, but in many ways also discovering their own separate paths at De La Salle College.

Rishi, with her vibrant personality and charm, was pursuing tourism and had become a well-known vlogger. She’d amassed thousands of followers online, capturing the hearts of people with her travels and stories. She also had a boyfriend whom she adored, but still made time for her friends. Yesha, always the graceful one, turned her beauty into a career as a makeup endorser. She was studying fine arts and could often be found painting late into the night. Then there was Lucas, the star athlete. As a varsity player, he was one of the campus heartthrobs, loved by fans but staying grounded, thanks to his loyal circle of friends.

And at the center of it all were Zlan and Luna. They were the couple everyone admired. Zlan was the quiet, thoughtful one, while Luna brought light to everyone around her. Together, they seemed perfect. Yet like any couple, they argued and disagreed, but always found their way back to each other. They’d been together for so long that everyone expected they’d be forever.

Chapter 2: A Changing World

As college life went on, each friend became busier, caught up in their studies, their careers, and their own dreams. Rishi spent more and more time traveling for her vlogs, meeting fans, and creating content. Yesha was focusing on her endorsements and art projects, and Lucas was in intense training with his team. Slowly, the once unbreakable circle of five began to feel stretched thin, like a string that was being pulled in all directions.

Zlan noticed these changes, but he tried to stay positive. He and Luna often talked about it, and though Luna missed their friends, she always reassured Zlan that they’d find time to come together again. She would say, “Friends like ours? They don’t just disappear. They’re in our hearts, no matter what.” And Zlan would smile, believing her words with all his heart.

But something wasn’t right with Luna. Sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, Zlan would catch her looking tired, her usual spark dimming. At first, he thought it was just the stress of college life. But then, Luna started missing classes. She’d spend days lying in bed, too weak to get up. It wasn’t like her, and Zlan felt a strange fear growing in his heart.

Chapter 3: The Diagnosis

One day, Zlan went to visit Luna after she hadn’t shown up to class for a week. He found her lying in her bed, pale and frail, a shadow of the girl who once seemed invincible. She tried to smile, but there was a sadness in her eyes.

“Zlan, I need to tell you something,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

And that was when she told him. She had been diagnosed with stage 3 bone cancer. The words felt like knives to Zlan's heart, cutting him deeply. How could this be happening to Luna? The girl who loved life more than anyone, the one who always reminded him to laugh, to dream, to live. His Luna.

Chapter 4: Holding On

For the next few months, Zlan stood by her side. He went with her to every doctor’s appointment, held her hand through every painful treatment, and wiped away her tears when she could no longer hold them back. Their friends tried to support them, but with their busy lives, it wasn’t always easy to be there in person.

Yet, Rishi, Yesha, and Lucas kept calling, checking in, sending messages of hope and love. They all promised that as soon as they had a break, they would come and visit her. They’d all be together again, the way they used to be.

But as the days went on, Zlan could see Luna getting weaker. He saw her fighting with every bit of strength she had left, trying to keep her promise to him and to their friends. She kept saying, “We’ll get through this, Zlan. One day, we’ll look back and laugh.”

But Zlan knew. Deep down, he knew they didn’t have much time left.

Chapter 5: The Final Goodbye

Two years later, the friends finally found a moment when they could all gather again. Rishi, Lucas, and Yesha returned to Baguio, desperate to see Luna and to be with their friends. It had been too long, and the regret of their distance weighed heavy on their hearts.

When they arrived at Luna’s place, she was lying in bed, weaker than ever. Zlan was beside her, holding her hand tightly. The friends gathered around her, their eyes filling with tears as they tried to hold onto the memories they’d shared.

Luna smiled at each of them, her eyes shining with the same light that had always drawn them to her. She took a deep breath, and with a soft voice, spoke her final words to Zlan.

“Alpas kana, Zlan,” she whispered, her hand squeezing his one last time. “Sa susunod na habang buhay, aantayin kita. Gusto ko buo pa rin ang circle natin kahit wala na ako.”

With that, Luna closed her eyes, her face peaceful as she drifted away. Zlan held her hand, tears falling silently as he whispered his own goodbye, his heart breaking into pieces.

Chapter 6: After Tadhana

After Luna’s passing, Zlan was never the same. He fell into a deep sadness, losing himself in the emptiness that Luna had left behind. The once lively, joyful boy was now a shadow, carrying a weight that no one else could understand. He tried to be strong, remembering Luna’s wish for him to let go and keep living. But it was hard. The circle of friends was broken, and Zlan felt lost without her.

Rishi, Yesha, and Lucas stayed close to Zlan, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. They became his support, the ones who helped him carry the pain, and together, they honored Luna’s memory. They visited her grave often, bringing flowers and sitting in silence, knowing that she was still with them, watching over them.

They promised each other that no matter what, they would stay friends, that they would be there for each other, as Luna had wanted. And slowly, with time, Zlan began to heal. He knew that Luna was waiting for him somewhere, that one day, they’d be together again.

But until then, he would live. He would find joy, love, and laughter again, carrying Luna’s memory in his heart, as he and their friends kept the circle strong.

In the end, it was as Luna had said—Tadhana. Destiny. The kind of love and friendship they shared was rare, the kind that even death couldn’t break. And though their paths may twist and turn, they would always find their way back to each other.

#fictionstory

#TADHANA

#mustread

[eddievanhammettmunson]

Eddie Valentine.

Eddie Munson x plus size female reader

Authors note- okay ghouls, goblins, and fellow gremlins this may be a very self indulgent fic of me working through my hatred for Valentine’s Day and it may or may not be somewhat based on true events on things that have happened in life so let’s just go with it <3

Warnings- mentions of bullying, swearing, fluff, smut. Oral f receiving. Protected p in v. Wrap it before you tap it ghouls

Summary- for Eddie’s first Valentine’s Day with his girlfriend he wants to make it as sappy romantic and special as possible. Until he finds out she hates Valentine’s Day. 4.8k words

February 14th. The day for couples to show their love for each other, the day Arizona was accepted as a state, and the day of the Saint Valentine’s Day massacre. Whoever you are wherever you are there’s something to do on this day.

Eddie Munson had the day marked on his calendar for weeks and he was all too excited for it. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow and he was determined to make it special. Being the freak of the town meant that Eddie had never truly celebrated Valentine’s Day with someone special before. Hell even in elementary school when kids would pass out candy and cards to the whole class, Eddie was always somehow left out or forgotten. That was until he met you.

You two had started going out within the last year and this is your first Valentine’s Day together. He was nervous to say the least but mostly just excited to have a day where he gets to show all his love for you.

Eddie sat at the head of the lunch table lost in thought daydreaming about his girlfriend and how special he wanted Valentine’s Day to be for her. Valentine’s Day was on a Tuesday this year which meant they’d both be spending the day at school but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to make it special. He sat there thinking about the gift he had gotten you and the candy he knew you’d love. In the morning he’d pick you up some of her favourite flowers.

He’d been so lost in thought that the rest of the hellfire table was now sitting around wondering why the dungeon master wasn’t being his usual self. He felt the eyes of the table on him and finally looked up to see their faces.

“What?”

“What do you mean “what” Eddie we’ve been here for like 5 minutes and you haven’t said a single word” Jeff said in a confused tone as he bit into his sandwich.

“Sorry, I was just thinking. Hey Jeff, where's y/n?”

“Last period she said she had to drop a book off at the library so she’d be late to lunch.”

“Well while I have you guys to myself for a second can I run a couple ideas for Valentine’s Day by you guys?”

“Seriously man, you're worried about Valentine’s Day? I thought you’d be more concerned with our next campaign?”

Eddie threw a pretzel at Gareth

“It’s our first Valentine’s Day together and I want to make it special.”

Dustin raised a hand to interject “Eddie we’re sure whatever you have planned she’s gonna love because she loves you and it’ll be special because it’s you two.”

Eddie opened his mouth to speak again but quickly closed it and snapped his head around to the other side of the table next to him where you had suddenly appeared and pulled the chair out to sit down.

“What’s gonna be special?” You asked as you made yourself comfortable.

Eddie didn’t say anything as you looked at him so you looked back to Dustin.

“Valentine’s Day of course!” Dustin said with a megawatt smile.

As soon as he said it your entire body tensed and you grew quiet. The smile slipping from your face.

Eddie however didn’t notice this as he threw a pretzel matched with a death glare at Dustin. Eddie began to speak quietly before looking at you.

“Yeah sweets since it’s our first Valentine’s Day together I was thinking I could pick you up for school and then immediately after we can go on a date”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked down at your hands in your lap instead of facing Eddie.

“I’m not coming to school tomorrow. Sorry Ed’s.”

You stood up fast from the table. “I think I left something in the library. I’ll see you guys later.”

You were gone from the cafeteria before Eddie could catch you but honestly he hadn’t even tried to.

He was too stunned. You’d never rejected him for a date without reason before and you’d especially never rushed out of a room like that before. What confused him even more is why you wouldn’t be at school on a Tuesday. You were a great student and he’s never seen you miss a day of school. But to reject him for Valentine’s Day plans? Had he done something wrong? Eddie's mind was racing a million miles a minute.

He stood from the hellfire table and made his way out of the cafeteria and to the library. Only when he got to the library you were nowhere to be found. He made his way out to the parking lot to see if you’d gone to get something from your car only to find your car missing entirely.

***

As you sat in your car on the way home you couldn’t help but feel guilty for what you’d done to Eddie. You knew he meant well but honestly since he hadn’t mentioned it at all recently you were hoping he’d forgotten about Valentine’s Day altogether or maybe didn’t want to celebrate it.

You knew you should have just told him the truth of why you didn’t like Valentine’s Day and why you wouldn’t go to school but deep down there was a part of you that thought he’d be angry with you for being upset over something so stupid that happened so long ago. Yet you continued driving home.

Once you got home you ran straight to your room and shut the door. Collapsing on the bed and running your hands over your face from exhaustion.

Later in the day you’d gotten multiple phone calls from who you were assuming was Eddie but you did nothing but lay in bed and watch the time pass. Hoping you would wake up and it would be Wednesday and everything could just go back to normal.

***

Back at Eddie’s trailer he was absolutely losing his mind wondering what on earth he could have done wrong to screw this up so badly. But he was determined he wasn’t going to let this day go to waste and he certainly wasn’t going to lose you on Valentine’s Day of all days.

The later it got the more defeated he felt when you didn’t answer any of his calls. He flopped down on the couch and threw his head back and groaned. He looked over at the clock that read 12:53 am and he decided fuck it.

He went to his room and grabbed his leather jacket and the gifts he’d gotten you for Valentine’s Day and then his keys and rushed out the door.

***

You were sound asleep in bed when a brutal tapping began to work its way into your dream, eventually waking you from that dream when you realised the tapping was real. You looked over at your clock that read 1:15 am and then you turned to find the source of the noise.

As you turn towards your window you can see Eddie standing outside as he knocks his rings against the glass. You sigh and stand up from your bed walking over to the window and sliding it open.

“Eddie, what are you doing here? It’s 1 in the morning!”

“Well when my girlfriend rejects me and runs off and stops answering my phone calls I get a little concerned sweetheart” he said with a sort of lopsided smile to where you could tell he’s a little hurt.

You move out of the way and he crawls into your room and you can’t help but notice the bag of items he has with him.

“Eddie please can we not do this? Everything will be back to normal on Wednesday I promise.”

Eddie dropped the bag of items gently on the floor of your room and stepped closer to you.

“Sweetheart what is going on? Please just talk to me. I want to spend Valentine’s Day with my girlfriend and I can’t help but feel like you don’t want that?”

You sighed and stepped away from him, walking back towards your bed and sitting on the edge of it. You pull your knees up to your chest and hug yourself.

“It has nothing to do with you Eddie I swear. I just hate Valentine’s Day is all.”

Eddie walked towards you at the edge of the bed and sat beside you.

“Why do you hate Valentine’s Day?”

Sighing you begin to fiddle with the end of the shirt you’re wearing as you begin to tell your tale.

“As a kid I got bullied a lot for being fat and nerdy Eddie. But when I got to middle school boys were ruthless. They’d pretend to ask me out and then laugh in my face and then run off to tell their friends and I’d sit there watching them all laugh at me. Then one year on Valentine’s Day my school did this event where you could buy time on the morning announcements to send a love note to somebody. Only the guy I liked at the time was very popular and apparently knew that I liked him. So he had bribed a few of his friends on the morning announcements to read a humiliating statement about me in front of the whole school and I got laughed at. Even by teachers. I tried not to let it get to me but then the next year for Valentine’s Day I got a candy gram which had a note of someone confessing that they liked me on it and as soon as I read it and smiled a group of boys laughed at me and told me it was fake. I couldn’t take being the butt of the joke every year on Valentine’s Day so I just stopped celebrating it and showing up for school on that day. The public humiliation just isn’t worth it.”

You didn’t look at Eddie but you could feel as he grabbed your hand and rubbed soothing circles on the back with his thumb. He used his other hand and brought it to your face as he gently guided you to look at him.

Once you finally forced your eyes to look at his you could see the tears brimming in his eyes. He brought you closer and laid the most gentle kiss possible on your forehead.

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You didn’t deserve that. But I just want you to know you can talk to me about this. I’m the town freak, remember. Valentine’s Day has never been very great for me either. I’ll say it's not as bad as yours but still.”

You knew he was right. And you began to sniffle a little bit as you fought and lost to hold back your tears but Eddie’s fingers were there to wipe them away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner Eddie it’s just- well it’s just something I don’t like to talk about or think of often.”

“If it’s alright with you sweetheart I’d really like a chance to make Valentine’s Day special for you. If you’ll let me.”

You nodded your head yes and he gave you another kiss on the forehead.

“Okay sweetheart. How about we go to sleep and when we wake up we can spend the whole day together. We’ll both skip school and then we can do whatever you want.”

“That sounds really nice Eddie.”

The two of you got comfortable in bed and drifted off. Staying asleep well into the day.

When the two of you wake up the sun is streaming through your room and you can feel Eddie’s arms wrapped tightly around you holding you against him.

“Morning sweetheart” he whispers in a husky morning voice and you can’t help but feel slightly aroused upon hearing it.

“I’m pretty sure it’s past noon Ed’s” you say in a slight giggle as you pull yourself from his arms and swing your feet over the edge of the bed.

“So sweetheart what’s on the agenda for today?” Eddie asks as he rolls over in your bed.

“How about we spend the day here and make it special? I was thinking we could go downstairs and bake some cupcakes then we can watch a movie?”

He smiles over at you and gets out of bed.

“You had me at cupcakes babe.”

The two of you go downstairs into the kitchen and you pull out the ingredients to bake the cake and you begin.

Of course having to correct when Eddie gets eggshells in the batter and having to take the bowl away when he starts stirring too vigorously and gets batter everywhere but you can’t help but giggle. Eventually you get the cupcakes in the oven and they come out perfect.

As you’re icing the cupcakes together Eddie takes a dollop of frosting onto his finger and swipes it on your nose.

“Ah! Eddie What are you doing!”

You take some frosting on your fingers and smear it across his face and he pulls you into him laughing and kissing the frosting off of your nose before placing a kiss on your lips. You can taste the frosting as you kiss him and you wrap your arms around his neck as you two deepen the kiss.

Eddie leans down as he kisses you and lifts you up in one swift motion as you wrap your legs around his waist as the two of you continue to make out in your kitchen.

After a few minutes of making out you pull away and drop back down to the ground smiling like an idiot. The two of you turn your attention back to the cupcakes and finish icing them.

Once done you each lift up a cupcake but Eddie insists that you two feed each other. As Eddie feeds you your bite you give a nice gentle sigh. As you feed Eddie his he lets out a loud moan that sounds like he just came in his pants and it makes you laugh.

“Good?”

“They’re heaven baby. Heaven. You’re magic.”

“Hey, you helped. If anything were magic together.”

He pulls you into him and kisses you with a mouth full of cupcakes. “Oh we definitely make magic together baby.” He finishes the sentence with a wink.

You slap his arm lightly and begin to clean the kitchen from your cupcake adventure. Once the kitchen is clean you head to the bathroom real quick and tell Eddie to go to your room so the two of you can watch a movie.

Once you walk In the room you see Eddie sat up against the headboard of your bed with a movie already in the VCR on pause. You see the case for the movie sitting on your side table and immediately recognize it as your favourite movie and your heart swells a little bit at just how well he knows you.

You jump into bed next to him and curl into his side as you enjoy the movie. Laughing together and enjoying each others presence. As the movie plays Eddie’s hands rub up and down your spine and every once in awhile he runs his hands gently through your hair and cradles your head. It’s almost like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it but the small touches make you feel so loved. So you hug yourself closer to him.

You guys stay like that for most of the afternoon, just watching movies and cuddling together. Until Eddie declares its present time so he runs to your room where he left the bag of goodies and returns to the living room.

He sits next to you on the couch and watches as you open your gifts.

First is a large bag of your favourite type of candy. Then you open the bag with the main gift and find a little brown Teddy bear with curly fur that’s wearing a little guitar pick necklace. You grab the card that sits beneath the bear and you begin to read it.

“Teddy from your Eddie I love you so much baby. Spending this life with you is all I could ask for and I hope we have many more valentines days together- love your teddy Eddie.”

Eddie begins to worry as he watches your face contort and then he sees the tear running down your face.

“Oh baby what’s wrong? Do you not like it?”

You sniffle again and wipe your nose.

“No! No! Eddie I love it. I love it so much. I just. Well. Nobody’s ever done something this sweet for me before.”

Eddie leans forward and captures you in a hug that you accept. Once the tears stopped falling and you stopped sniffling you pull away from the hug ever so slightly so that you can look at Eddie.

When you look at him and see those big brown eyes staring back at you so lovingly you just can’t hold back as you tackle him back onto the couch in a kiss.

Eddie makes a noise of surprise as he’s pushed back down on the couch and moves to where you two can comfortably make out. As you continue to make out your mind begins to drift onto an idea. A way to repay Eddie for making your day so special and something that would solidify today as a great day for the both of you. Eddie begins to realise you seem lost in thought so he pulls away from the kiss leaving your mouth feeling empty.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours sweets?”

You move to straddle him on the couch and you brush some hair out of his face.

“Well I was just thinkin. Maybe we could…well I wanted to….I was thinking we could maybe take things further today.”

Eddie's face wasn’t what you were expecting. You couldn’t quite read his reaction. He knew what you were asking and it’s not that he didn’t want to. He’s just surprised. You guys had done other stuff like giving each other head or handjobs but you guys had never done that.

Gradually a smile appears on Eddie’s face and your nerves begin to dissipate.

“Well sweetheart if that’s what you really want I think we can make that happen.”

He grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours before he moves and stands from the couch with you. He guides you back to your room and closes the door.

Once he closes the door he turns to see you in the middle of the room undressing yourself and he just can’t have that.

“Nuh uh sweetheart hands up.”

“What?”

“Hands up sweetheart. That’s my job.”

You drop your hands to your sides. And wait as Eddie approaches you from across the room. When he gets to you he puts his hands on your waist and trails them down to the hem of your shirt before he ever so slowly lifts it up your body and fully removes the garment. Next he moves to your pants. He looks at you and raises a brow just to ask for confirmation. You give him a nod and he slides the pants down your legs. Getting close to the floor he lifts each leg in his hands and slips the pants fully off your body and discards them.

He returns to his full height towering above you as he slowly strips himself down to his boxers. Once you’re both standing there in nothing but your underwear he moves forward and kisses you as he guides you to the bed to lay down.

As you lay down on the bed you pull him to fall on top of you and he groans as you spread your legs for him to lay between and the two of you make out and begin to grind on each other.

Having so few layers between the two of you was making you even wetter. Feeling his growing erection rubbing between your folds was making you lose your mind as you two whine and moan into each other's mouths until Eddie begins to trail kisses down your neck to your torso. He gets to your bra and looks up at you for confirmation and when you nod he slips it off your body and throws it off the bed. Eddie then massages your left breast with his hands as he takes your right breast into his mouth causing a loud moan to slip past your lips. He then alternates between the two until your nipples are so hard they could cut glass.

Once he’s satisfied with his work on your breasts and can feel that you’ve soaked through your panties he travels lower and leaves kisses along your hips and stops at the waistband of your panties.

He looks up at your already fucked out expression. “Sweets look at me real quick”

You look down at him between your legs.

“I’m gonna eat you out to get you ready first okay baby. Give me an orgasm and I’ll give you what you want okay baby?”

You nod your head yes.

“Come on sweetheart I know you can give me words.”

“Yes Eddie.”

He grabs hold of your hips and takes your panties between his fingers and slides them down and off your legs. He then settles back on the bed and spreads your legs. Settling them over his shoulders. He makes himself comfortable (With ample room to grind into the mattress) and dives in.

He starts by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently just to get you going before upping the pace. The more you moan the better he knows he is doing. He knows your body almost as well as you do at this point so he knows what you really want. He moves his fingers up and down your lips and parts them before dipping one finger in your entrance. But he knows it’s not enough for you. Yet he takes it slow and moves his lone finger in and out a few times listening to your little gasps before he pushes in that second finger. Two fingers is as much as you two have used together before. But Eddie knows he has to prepare you for what’s to come.

He lifts his head up for a moment. “Baby I’m gonna use another finger to get you ready for me okay. You want me to stop or if anything feels uncomfortable you tell me okay?”

“O-okay Eddie.”

He goes back to sucking your clit and moving his two fingers in and out until he feels that you’re ready for a third. When he adds the third finger he hears you wince a little and he slows down.

You feel his fingers deep within you pumping in and out. After the stretch of the third finger you’re hungering for more but you promised him and orgasm first so you know he wouldn’t agree to fucking you first. As you lay there and take everything he’s giving you, your body suddenly convulses. Eddie had curled his fingers and found just the right spot. You’re practically seeing stars Every Time he hits that spot.

Eddie meanwhile is in heaven. Grinding on the mattress trying to find some relief for his hard on but he doesn’t care when he can see the way your body is reacting above him. He knows you’re getting close and he wants to push you over the edge.

He uses his free hand to travel up your body and pinch one of your nipples between his fingers as he speeds up the pace of his fingers and his tongue swirling around your clit and your back arches off the bed and your thighs clamped around his head as you cum crying his name.

He works you through your high and then when your thighs release him he moves back up to your face where he places a gentle kiss upon his lips. You open your eyes and look up at him.

“Hi Ed’s.” You say with a dopey smile.

“Hey pretty girl” he says as he moves the hair from your face. He leans down and kisses you again but gasps when he feels your hand wrap around his still clothed cock.

He swallows and looks down at you. “Are you sure about this sweetheart?”

You squeeze him again and say yes. He moves back and slides his boxers off and tosses them off the bed. He then reaches over to your bedside table and grabs the box of condoms that you knew was there but you didn’t know he knew they were there.

You swat his arm. “Eddie!”

“What?” He says with a Cheshire grin.

“You’ve been snooping in my room!”

“I wouldn’t call it snooping sweetheart I was investigating.”

“Oh really? Investigating what? My panties?”

“Exactly.” He leans down and gives you a kiss.

He takes the wrapping off of the condom and slides it down onto his cock. Fisting himself a couple times before leaning back down and grinding against your wet form.

You spread your legs a little further and he settles between your legs. He rests both his arms next to your head bracing himself and looking into your eyes before he pushes just the mushroom tip into your entrance. You gasp and reach for him grabbing onto him for dear life the further he pushes in.

“Geez Ed’s shoulda used 4 fingers. Maybe 5 Jesus Christ.”

He laughs and kisses your forehead before bottoming out. Once he’s bottomed out he rests there and gives you a moment.m to adjust and gather yourself before you nod. He pulls out almost completely and pushes back in. The force of it makes you gasp like all the air has been knocked out of your lungs.

The pleasure of it is intense but you know it could be better.

“Harder Ed’s. Harder.”

He snaps his hips a bit rougher and changes the angle and he knows he’s found that spot again when you whine fairly loud and he feels you gush wetness around his cock. He keeps snapping his hips at that pace and he looks down at you to study your face and finds your eyes closed. Suddenly everything stops. You whine very loud and open your eyes to look up at him.

“Keep your eyes open for me sweetheart.”

He kisses your forehead again and starts up with his unrelenting pace. Your moans and whines are getting louder and louder.

You push on his ribs and flip the two of you over with him still inside you. This takes Eddie by surprise but he’s not complaining in the slightest. He watches you adjust yourself and find your pace as you begin bouncing on his cock.

As he watches your lovely tits bounce in his face and the way you squeeze around his cock so perfectly he knows he won’t last much longer but he wants you to come with him. He snakes a hand down between the two of you and finds your clit and begins to move in figures around your clit in the way he knows you’ll like. He begins fucking up into you so the even more ferver.

He moves his face to your breast where he begins sucking hickies onto your sensitive breasts. He takes your nipples into his mouth and massages your other breasts with his free hand.

Just like that you’re coming undone on top of him crying his name into his neck and hanging onto him for dear life. It doesn’t take long after that for Eddie to give a few final thrusts before he’s spilling himself into the condom and whining your name into your ears.

He lifts you off of him gently and places you onto the bed and gives you a kiss on the forehead. He then stands up and puts on his boxers and goes to the bathroom and disposes of the condom before grabbing a towel and heading back to the bed where he wipes between your legs and then crawls back into bed next to you.

You’re looking up at him with the most lovestruck eyes you could possibly muster and Eddie feels like his heart is going to explode.

“Happy Valentine’s Day sweetheart.”

“Thank you Eddie. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

[wandering-words]

prompt 25 for avanine 🤭

(We talked before and you know I already got this one so thanks for sending in a backup request!)

This fulfills prompt 27 - humming/singing.

Set after 2x09 Sick Day.

~~~

Janine talked to the camera crew more than most of the staff at Abbott Elementary did. 

Even Ava, the one who invited the camera crew to film the school in the first place, had a picture-perfect mask to present to the camera. She was a showman first and foremost, it was how she’d survived and gotten to where she was now, but Janine wasn’t used to projecting a personality to the camera. 

She could barely find people who saw her for her and didn’t tease her for it. Even Tariq, the man she dated for nearly twelve years, didn’t really know who she was. Janine was so used to giving and giving and giving to the people around her, her boyfriend, her mom, the staff, the school, and no one seemed to give back, just sucked her energy out of her like a clew of leeches without wondering how she was doing. 

Maybe it meant she projected too much of herself. Maybe people were too quick to dismiss her trauma, her cries for help, all of it. And maybe the camera crew weren’t really her friends, but at this point it was her only outlet to express herself, though a part of her knew logically that the camera crew were listening to her so that they could also extract knowledge that would better their Abbott Elementary documentary. 

The camera crew was meticulous, filming them from 7:30 when school started to when the kids were let out at 2:30. There were also other extraneous filming times when some of the staff members interacted outside of school, but generally the filming schedule was largely the same. Janine was impressed at how they were able to find the most dramatic moments of the school day and compile them into 25 minute episodes. 

Janine was one of the staff members that did talking heads the most, who shared her stories the most, who they painted as the protagonist despite Ava’s protests. 

Part of Ava’s TV persona was hating Janine, but Janine couldn’t help but feel like it was personal. 

The camera crew was suspiciously protective of their camera footage (the teachers saw the documentary as episodes were airing), but Janine was able to pull some strings to change that the day she got sick and couldn’t make it into school. 

She knew Ava liked sabotage—even if she didn’t, she performed it flawlessly—and Janine wanted to make sure that it didn’t affect her class’s learning.

When Janine returned to Abbott that Monday, she asked two of the crew members if she could see some of the footage of Ava being a substitute teacher, just to make sure that everything was running smoothly.  

Members of the camera crew shrugged, picking out pieces of footage they’d collected from the day and showing Janine the parts they planned to air. 

What Janine didn’t expect was the lump that rose in her throat when she heard Ava playing her coloring playlist for the kids, singing along softly to “Pick Up Your Feelings” by Jazmine Sullivan. Janine couldn’t help the shy smile that spread over her face when she heard Ava attempt the vocal run, not doing a half-bad job at it. 

It was a surprisingly wholesome moment. Watching Ava’s tough exterior go slightly softer for the kids made an unrecognizable feeling travel through Janine’s veins and she felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. 

Ava was genuinely trying, and even though it was likely for the kids’ benefit rather than Janine’s, Janine couldn’t help but feel as though she’d seen a vulnerable moment from the taller woman, watching the showman mask crack just a bit so that the kids could be comfortable learning from her. 

Janine was a bit too good at forming unhealthy attachments to people. Barbara was the closest to a mother figure she’d ever had, Melissa was the hard-assed aunt she never had, Gregory was… a great friend, and now she was feeling some type of way about Ava. 

She just knew that her affection wouldn’t be reciprocated because Ava had made it pretty clear that she hated Janine’s guts. 

Janine came back her usual sunshiny self, and she was pleasantly surprised when Melissa and Barbara welcomed her back. Not quite with the most open of arms, but Melissa’s small smile and Barbara’s fond gaze were more than enough. 

The more surprising reaction was Ava’s: she walked into the lounge with her usual swagger, but she was quiet. As she poured her usual mountain of sugar into her otherwise black coffee, her eyes were glazed over, a victim to her own thoughts. 

What was even more surprising was that not only was Ava quiet to everyone in the staff room, but she usually had a few petty insults ready to snark out before she left, and she didn’t even look at Janine before she was swinging open the door and heading back to her office. 

Janine looked directly at the door, not realizing she was lost in her own mental world of wondering where Ava was, what she was feeling, why she was even wondering what Ava was feeling, when she heard Melissa’s smug voice break through her thoughts. 

“You’ve been staring at the door as if Ava’s coming back.” 

Janine felt her face flush and she looked down demurely, but not before she heard an “mmm” from deep in Barbara’s throat, agreeing with the redhead. It was then that Janine tentatively moved from her chair, opening the door and making her way to Ava’s office, feeling her throat constrict and her entire body growing more and more tense with each step. 

She also felt the faint bass and heard the soulful voice of Jazmine Sullivan, though muted, coming from inside Ava’s office. Janine noticed Ava humming along as she flipped through paperwork, and Janine felt some of the tension in her body melt when she noticed Ava being so… unconstricted. Free from her usual unaffected, snarky mask. 

It made Janine’s heart constrict with a new feeling, adrenaline pumping through her veins and making Janine feel a way that she’d only before felt when in the presence of Tariq or Gregory. 

But why Ava? 

“What the hell are you doing out here, Janine?” Ava said, opening the door to her office and looking at Janine with an unaffected expression, her mask effectively slipping back into place. 

“Uh…” Janine wracked her brain for an excuse, “I wanted to thank you again for watching my class. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Ava rolled her eyes. “Actually, I did. I’m not having the superintendent try to fire me again.” Her words were hard but her eyes were soft when she looked at Janine. She looked back at the documentary crew, the one she hired, before snapping at them to cut the cameras. 

To Janine’s surprise, they actually did turn off the cameras. Maybe it was because Ava was ultimately paying them to do this and she would likely try to cut their wages if they filmed her without her consent, but either way, Janine watched the tension seep out of Ava’s shoulders. 

“Thanks, Janine.” 

Her eyes were still soft when they looked at Janine, and Janine felt as though her entire body had been set on fire. 

Janine was so tempted to throw her arms around the taller woman, hear her heartbeat thumping in her chest, feel the comforting weight of Ava’s head resting on top of hers, feel safe, but before she could destroy any sense of self preservation she had, Ava was gone.

[justreadertings]

Coffee Shop Rules

Hi everybody! I made this to celebrate me putting in my two weeks notice at the one and only Bob Evans lol. I have worked saturday and sunday mornings this entire quarter of school (don’t ask how I don’t know how I did it either). But I officially have days to sleep in! Anyway, here’s to the brave thing I did. Also coffee shop aus can be injected in my bloodstream, I love it here. Also, mind the editing, this is the THIRD time I’ve tried to upload this to tumblr before I clicked out of it accidnetly. Twice. Please be kind to me. Ok, enjoy this little fic!- All my love, Magee

Masterlist

2900 Words

TW: Cursing, mentions of domestic violence, unwanted advances, working in a restaurant (this last one is for me)

Coffee Shop Rules

Rowan hated his job until noon. He had no one to calm him down, or rationalize that he couldn’t just snap at customers. But they were getting on his last nerve, today especially.

The Mistward was a restaurant that both he and his best friend worked at, and on Sundays, after the church rush, Rowan was at his wits end. He glanced at the clock. It was 11:57. But that meant he still probably had around ten minutes, because she was always late. He turned back to the register. 

“Hi there,” He said, just doing the motions, checking out customers one by one. He and Aelin both hosted, but she was much better at it than he was. She was always up there, making conversation with the customers, getting to know them, complimenting their jewelry. He’d asked her before why she complimented the old ladies with the most atrocious bulky necklaces the most, and she said it was a test, because if the old lady was thrilled about the compliment, it probably meant that her husband had stopped complimenting her. He was all very confused by her science, but he couldn’t deny how much he loved when Aelin would pop up on her toes and tell him in a hushed voice, “table 30? That guy is awful. She nearly cried, Rowan. Told me where to buy myself a set, too”

Gods, he wanted her to get here. He glanced down at the clock. 12:06. Rowan slyly took out his phone, quickly sending a you ok? text to her. She called him a buzzard when he got worried about her, but she’d already gotten into a fender bender once this year. His heart had nearly stopped when she had called him, asking him to pick her up.

Then, the doors opened, and there, in her golden glory, was Aelin. No apron, no nametag, and almost seven minutes late. Rowan smiled. She was fine, then. 

“Sorry sorry sorry,” she said, stopping to very quickly kiss his cheek before going back to put her bag away. 

The old woman at the register smiled. “I used to work with my husband,” she said, voice conspiring. “We just loved it.”

Rowan knew what she was insinuating, it was the same thing that nearly all the old couples suggested. Rowan knew that they just didn’t get modern relationships. That it was totally normal how close he and Aelin were, and it didn’t mean they had to be dating or anything. But Rowan had learned to let the comments slide. He gave her back her change, with a tight smile and a nod.

Aelin was pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she came around the counter. “Bye Pam!” She yelled, waving goodbye to the woman. The lady chuckled and waved back.

Rowan turned to her, an eyebrow raised. “How do you know her name?”

Aelin tied her apron around her waist, rolling her cerulean eyes. “I know all our regulars.” She finally looked up at him. “How do I look?”

His body warmed as he looked at her. Like she even had to ask. She looked as effortlessly gorgeous now as she did in freshman year. When she’d moved in all his classes, rivaling him for the best grades, the hardest worker, and the biggest kiss-ass to the teacher… well he wasn’t her biggest fan. In fact, they’d spent the first two years of highschool torturing each other, slipping mean notes into lockers, or setting each other up on fake dates. The problem was, his friend group since elementary school was all a huge fan of hers and her friends. Soon, they all became one group, and they’d had to just deal with each other. 

But it wasn’t until Aelin showed up at his house, the first to their group hangouts- which had been weird considering her petulance for running late- with a cleverly hidden bruised cheek, that they’d started talking. Growing up, Rowan’s closest friend, Lorcan, was two years older, and had tried to hide his own fair share of bruises. He’d moved out his senior year, but Rowan still knew how to figure that kind of thing out. He’d known her foster dad was an ass… but this was too far. She had sat in his house for probably ten minutes, insisting she was fine, until she broke down and told him. Everything. 

Since then, their friendship had grown, and he considered her his best friend. She just… understood him. They were on the same wavelength. He was very grateful that they got the summer before college to hang out, before they went to Orynth U together. He knew a lot could change in college, that they’d be busy. But he was also grateful that Aelin could get out of the hellhole that had been the last five years of her life.

Speaking of… Rowan’s eye caught on her wrist, circled with little purple finger indents. His chest tightened. He reached out, soothing his thumb over it.

Immediately, Aelin shook her head. “It’s fine. This one wasn’t… I was stupid.”

Rowan pressed his lips to the bruise, feeling horribly protective of her. “It’s not your fault.” He’d probably said that to her a million times. 

“I brought home a pregnancy test.” She said, as if that explained the bruises.

Rowan’s hand dropped her as his fell slack to his sides. Aelin pointed behind him. “Customers,” she said. 

Rowan shook his head a bit at her, questions soaring through his mind. But he didn’t even have time to ask her to clarify what the hell she was talking about before she was off making hot chocolates for Luca, one of their servers. 

He didn’t… he didn’t even know she was doing… that. Or at least, if she had, he assumed she would have told him. Not that he was entitled to her information but, they just told each other everything. She knew that he slept with Lyria Willow their junior year. He knew that she hadn’t slept with Dorian, or Chaol. He knew that she had almost slept with Sam, but decided against it at the last moment. She’d gotten freaked out and had come over, crying in his bed that something was wrong with her. Gods, as if that was possible. He was still trying to convince her that she wasn’t broken. In a lot of places. But she was pretty scared off from dating since then. 

So was this a fling thing? Something she hadn’t thought about? Or was she dating someone and hadn’t told him? He hated the thought of that. Hated the thought of her with anyone, really, but… if she was buying a pregnancy test, this guy had to be-

“Ro?”

He snapped out of his thoughts. Rowan was sure his eyes were as wide as saucers, because Aelin had a quirky little smile on her face. “It was for Lysandra.”

Everything in his body relaxed. He knew she would have told him if she’d had sex. If she was dating anyone. The relief in his chest was so heavy, he had to push it away, and not dig in on why, exactly he was so relieved. He was working, and he did not have time to think about the complexities of that question. 

 “Thank gods,” he muttered.

At that, she flicked the side of his head. “Are you saying I wouldn’t make a good teen mother? Because I take offense to that.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was just missing a biggg chunk of story there if that test had been for you.'' They began walking towards where they kept the pumpkin bread, beginning to package it and put it in the display case. It was pretty slow now, the cold weather warding off most of their customers. Since about ninety percent of their clientele were over the age of sixty, even their busiest days were slow when the weather cooled.

Aelin put the stickers on the boxes when Rowan finished removing the wrappers and placing them in the box. They worked like this a lot, in an assembly line. Mostly so they could talk. Not that Emrys cared that much. The owner had always told them, as long as everyone leaves fed and happy, you can do whatever you want.

He was a great boss.

“Look,” Aelin said, blowing a tendril of her hair out of her face. “Lysandra didn’t actually think she was pregnant. She was just a little late, and wanted to double check.”

He frowned, eyes still catching on her blue and purple wrist. “That still doesn’t explain why you went home with it.”

Aelin laughed. “Because her uncle would kill her if he knew she was sleeping with my cousin, who’s literally four years older than her.” Aelin cringed. “Gods that's gross.” 

Rowan was still frowning. “Doesn’t Lysandra know that Arobynn wouldn’t be too thrilled if he found it either. Which he clearly did.”

Aelin stiffened a little bit at his tone. “I was just helping her out. I honestly forgot it was in my pocket.”

Ignoring the problem for a moment, Rowan blinked at her in shock. “You put something she-” he lowered his voice for the sake of the people eating beyond the counter- “peed on in you pocket?”

Aelin actually laughed at him. “Please,” she waved her hand. “Lysandra and I have shared underwear before.”

Rowan made a horrified face.

“Did you see any lines in my prom dress?”

Rowan’s face heated at the thought of her prom dress. It was black, with a deep v neck, a golden dragon that rode up the back of her body and hugged every single one of her curves. He couldn’t deny she was gorgeous. You’d have to be insane to think she wasn’t.

His face heated further. “You told us all that you went commando.” His knee had hit the top of their table and rattled their drinks that night when she had told them all that fact. For the rest of the night, he’d struggled to forget. He couldn’t even dance with her like she’d wanted for most of the night, afraid of how little fabric actually was between them.

Aelin shrugged. “I did. But I tried on her supposed ‘no line’ underwear beforehand.”

Rowan muttered, “demon.”

Aelin just smiled, but turned her cheek to see a guy at the register. Immediately, she went for her nose. “Not it!”

Rowan sighed, before taking off his plastic gloves. He pinched her side. “You’re lucky you're cute.”

Aelin only laughed, after an aggressive bat of his hand away from her before slipping on the gloves he abandoned to finish wrapping up the bread.

After working so long at a place like this, Rowan had gotten used to not only reading people’s vibes, but also making snap judgements on people. And he didn’t like this guy. He was clearly a frat boy, but his face was… creepy. Rowan knew that he was objectively attractive, tawny eyes and dark hair, but he couldn’t describe him anyway else. He was just creepy.

Rowan just took the receipt though, doing his normal, “how as everything”, and such.

The guy had answered fine, but Rowan was already fishing out cash for him. 

“Damn,” the guy said. Rowan bristled a little, glancing up. But the guy was looking behind him. “Was she on the menu? I would’ve ordered that instead.”

Rowan’s muscles went taunt. Was this guy kidding? Rowan had seen his fair share of guys hit on Aelin, had heard enough old guys say weird shit to her… but seriously? Calling her a that?

“Excuse me?” Rowan just said, hoping to make him uncomfortable.

The man just smirked, and it felt slimy to Rowan. “I’m just saying, I would’ve much rather had her at our table than shrimp over there.”

Rowan just handed him the cash, hoping he’d leave. He just didn’t like the vibe this guy was giving off. And yeah, maybe he was an “overprotective buzzard” like Aelin liked to call him- but he wanted him gone.

Of course, because she had to be difficult, Aelin chose that moment to turn and start displaying the bread. The man called out to her, before Rowan could give her the signal to get out if she didn’t want to be hit on, “Hey babe.”

Aelin frowned, looking him up and down. “Unless you’re talking to our little pig plushies in the front, I don’t believe anyone here goes by that name.”

The man just kept smirking. “So, she talks.”

Aelin turned around to grab more bread, continuing her job. “Most women do.”

“And so feisty. I like that.”

“So did your mom,” Aelin snarked. Rowan smiled into his hand. Gods, he just loved her.  Loved her classic fire. It was all very Aelin. 

The man faulterd a bit, but recovered, a little bit of ire in his voice, “So she wants to play hard to get, huh?”

“She,” Aelin remarked, “Has a name. And she also has a boyfriend.”

Rowan’s heart nearly faltered until he realized she was probably just talking about him. He was her fake boyfriend all the time, when she needed it as a cover. They’d kissed a couple of times anyway, just little pecks, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. They’d never really set boundaries, but he knew it was good for a time like this. Even if it was sometimes… confusing.

The guy just stuck his hand over the counter. “Cairn.”

Aelin didn’t shake it, but said in the same tone, “Working.”

Cairn nodded to Rowan, who hadn’t left the counter, wanting to make sure this guy left. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna leave Aelin alone with this guy. Rowan had left her alone, had let her convince him that it was fine if he dropped her off at home one too many times. So yeah, he was probably too protective, but it stemmed from what his mom told him was anxiety. He guessed that made sense. Lorcan’s life had probably made him protective, and his dad’s death had definitely made him overbearing. But Aelin’s life had probably made him anxious. 

“This your boyfriend?”

Rowan squinted at him, but responded, “the one and only.”

Aelin glanced at him a thank you. He shot back, don’t mention it. 

“You can do better,” Cairn said, dismissively.

What the hell was wrong with this guy? Yeah, Rowan wasn’t her boyfriend, but what if he was? Now, could Aelin do better than him? Definitely, Rowan decided a long, long time ago. But this dick didn’t have to say that, and he definitely shouldn’t if he had a chance with her- which Rowan knew he didn’t. 

Either way, Rowan was done with this guy. He stalked up behind Aelin, who had the same “what the fuck is the matter with this guy?” look on her face. Rowan pointed to the door. “Sorry, no dicks allowed in here. Coffee shop rules.”

Cairn’s face went from entitled to pissed. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” His voice was raised loud enough that the few customers still left raised their eyes to the counter. 

Aelin slid closer to him, and Rowan was reminded how much she hated aggressive men. How triggering it was for her. It was the only thing that kept him from throwing the guy out on his ass himself.

“Get out of here, man. Take your fit outside, or find someone else to bother.”

Cairn looked her up and down again, and Rowan slipped his arm around her. “You’re a bitch.”

Aelin’s fingers dug into his arm, but she only said, causally. “And you’re pathetic.” She pointed to the door. “No dicks allowed,” she repeated. “Coffee shop rules.”

The man grunted but eventually stomped his way outside, not without slamming the door of course. Aelin jumped from it. 

Rowan turned to her then, slipping his arms around her as she leaned back against the counter, eyes closed. “You ok?” he asked, voice low. She nodded, but he knew it was a lie. He tucked that tendril of her hair that she could never seem to get clipped up behind her ear.

Aelin sighed a little. “We should have that sign made,” she said, voice low.

He snorted, but brought his hand up to hold her jaw. “How about I get you some water?” He knew she was bothered. Scenes like that didn’t normally happen here, which was part of the appeal. She’d always get really tense when they were around people arguing, and their quiet little breakfast place was supposed to be her haven away from the crazy. 

Aelin nodded, eyes still closed. He held her jaw there for a second more, before pressing a kiss to her golden hair, and grabbing her that water. When he returned with it, her eyes were open, but her damned bruised hand was brushing over her mouth, worried. She took it from him, grateful, but there was something churning in her eyes. 

“Fireheart,” he asked, knowing it was the name her parents had given her before they’d died when she was eight. “Whats-”

But before he could finish, she’d risen up on her toes and pressed the softest of kisses to his mouth. “Thank you, Rowan.” 

Customers came in then, and she was off, busying herself around, grabbing menus for them before he could even react. Rowan placed his own fingers on his mouth, trying to process. He was starting to think this no boundaries thing was going to be a problem.

If you want to be added to the taglist (an of course my secret society where I give you chocolates and forehead kissies) just let me know! Also, if would be interested in a part 2, I wouldn’t be opposed! 

Taglist:

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@fireheart-violet​

@backtobl4ck​

@morganofthewildfire​

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[church-of-lilith]

I have a prompt for the Abbott Elementary Work Wives, if that’s ok? A tradition they have for the end of the school year that they celebrate together, maybe?

After the last bell rings on the last day of the school year, when the last child walks out of the building and safely into the hands of their caregiver, when the building’s doors finally lock after one last forgotten lunchbox or jacket, Melissa and Barbara celebrate. 

While Melissa’s usual ideas of celebration are more material; going out for drinks, for example. Barbara always enjoys celebrating a little more practically. 

(They didn’t actually consider this a celebration, or even a tradition, until about 1998 when they’d both been around a few too many years to really care what they called it.)

Regardless, they always start in Melissa’s room. 

While it has moved around over the years, it seems that the powers that be always knew it was a good idea to keep them relatively close together. So whether she moves across the hall, or around the corner, Barbara always arrives at the end of the year like clockwork—a gentle knock to the doorframe and copious amounts of cardboard boxes in hand. 

When they work they mostly do so in silence—something that initially unnerved Melissa in their earlier years but now is more comforting than any conversation could be. 

There’s something therapeutic about it, working methodically to deconstruct a year’s worth of hard work and love—knowing it’ll all cycle through again next year.

“You have quite the collection of artwork this year,” Barbara smiles, looking at one that appears to be Melissa in front of the water ice truck from the beginning of the year. 

“Yeah,” her face is hot, blushing furiously as she looks at the artwork she’s accumulated into piles in two huge cardboard boxes. “Double the class, double the drawings.” 

Barbara moves onto the last board that needs deconstructing, slowly taking the staples out of the last few pieces of artwork and beginning to unravel the puzzle piece themed border around it. When she looks back, Melissa is still deeply engrossed in the box of drawings. She doesn’t mind, making quick work of the last display and allowing Melissa her time to decompress. It’s the other emotions she sees that worries her, less of joy and reflection—something more morose. 

“Everything alright?” Barbara asks gently, coming back to her side. The last stack of drawings and letters accumulated from Melissa’s desk in hand.,

Melissa moves her glasses back to the top of her head. “Yeah, I should probably get cracking with these boxes though, if we have any shot of getting your room done on time.” 

Barbara knows it’s not about her, or the boxes. She plays along anyways, hoping to garner some sort of truth. “What do you do, with all the gifts your students give you?” 

Melissa turns away,“You’ll think it’s stupid,” she suddenly feels bashful, closing the lid on the first box.

Barbara passes her the last stack, gently touching her hand as she does, “You know that’s not true.”

“I keep them all in boxes, labeled with the year. They sit in my attic for a long time, collecting dust. And then, sometimes, when things get harder than usual I go back through ‘em. It helps to remember all the years, all the kids’ lives I was part of. I wonder where they are now, and hope that I did enough.”

Barbara’s face softens, discarding one of the posters she carefully pulled down from Melissa’s bulletin board in favor of touching her shoulder gently. “Of course you did enough, Melissa, why are you second guessing your own abilities?” 

Finally, it’s like the flood gates to all of the woman’s closed off emotions open. “I feel like I failed them, this year especially.” 

“Melissa,” Barbara almost chides her. 

Her voice falls, “The kids, my kids, if they were at a legendary charter school they would’ve been so much better off. They could have learned more, been happier, got the attention they really needed.”

Barbara shakes her head, “Look at everything these children have left behind in this room. All the drawings and letters, the memories, the happiness. What makes you think that you didn’t succeed in teaching them, in bringing them joy and fulfillment?” 

“I should have done more, I could’ve.” 

“You did what any good teacher would, your absolute best. Clearly your students agree.” 

Melissa looks around the room again, already half deconstructed but an amalgamation of so many days of frustration and excitement, anxiety and peace, sadness and joy. It didn’t matter how she felt on any particular day, to her kids she was always just Ms. Schemmenti, they trusted her with everything they had. 

Barbara thumbs through some of the letters, “Here’s one Max wrote about you going to get the whole class ice cream after they all aced their time tests. And another letter from a boy named Jordan thanking you for giving him a book from your personal collection that’s become his favorite. And here, one from Courtney, where she says that you moving her up a grade and listening to her when no one else would, made her feel like she belonged. If that doesn’t tell you something, well, I don’t know what will.”

She’s allowing tears to slip down her face at that point, sitting in the middle of the room and suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Boxes upon boxes stacked and she feels like she’s drowning in it all, all over again. 

Barbara reaches up and wipes her tears, stroking her face ever so gently. “You are a good teacher, Melissa Schemmenti.”

Melissa kisses her softly, thanking her in the best way she knows how. Barbara keeps her grounded, level-headed, even when she feels like the walls are closing in and the entire world is against her. Barbara is always there.

When they’ve both taken a quiet moment for themselves, Melissa gets to her feet. “Just gotta finish sorting my books and extra supplies and then I’ll be done.” 

Barbara hums, taking the woman’s extended hand and following her over to the other side of the room. She makes quick work of sorting pencils and crayons back into boxes, allowing Melissa to finish packing up the books from her reading corner.

They move onto Barbara’s classroom then, which—as always—is infinitely easier to deconstruct than Melissa’s. This is because for many years Barbara’s room has never moved, staying stagnant in one place. This is how it should be, because Barbara is a rock for Abbott, and her classroom has become a home to so many of the kids who still pass through these halls. The room never changing location is important, because years later when kindergarteners grow into second or third graders, they still know the way back to Mrs. Howard’s room to say hello. 

They never have to do much work with her space at the end of the year. Just packing up extra supplies Barbara doesn’t want to risk losing over the next few months, books and blankets to go back into storage. Every year the same room–just a new coat of paint applied in whatever theme strikes Barbara that year. This year it’s rainbows, and Melissa can’t help but feel emotional as she helps the woman she loves reminisce over it all. 

To her credit, Barbara has just as many drawings of her likeness, maybe even more than Melissa considering the kindergartners are too young to show their admiration through written word. Some of the older students leave her letters, though, even years later. Barbara cherishes them all, remembering each and every student in a way that Melissa admires immensely. She loves when the kids ask her about Barbara, how she’s doing, if she’s still reading stories to the younger kids like she used to do with them. 

What Melissa enjoys most is when Barbara shuffles in with little gifts or even forgotten items from the long nights before. Each time she does her best not to disturb class, leaving Melissa with a quick kiss, a chorus of ‘Bye Mrs. Howard!’ in her wake and a smile upon her face.

Melissa feels like Barbara’s classroom is her home, too. 

Another thing that’s changed since they started this little end of the year tradition in 1998 is that now they don’t part ways in the parking lot, promises of getting together for lunch in the summer dying on their lips. Now they load their boxes into the same car, humming along to Bobby Brown on the short drive back to Melissa’s house that has slowly but surely become Barbara’s as well. 

When they get home, Melissa puts this year's boxes in the attic along with the others. She looks over each of them fondly, dusting them off and tracing the numbers with her index finger. Then she retreats back downstairs, where Barbara has already poured them both glasses of wine and reheated the Danny Wok’s they picked up last night for a dinner that went untouched in favor of other matters. 

As traditions go, it’s not much. But for them, it’s perfect.

[searchingforthedreamscape]

Wondering About How Cybertronians React to Disabled Humans

So I watched a Tik Tok by Dapper Manatee about how he copes with life by vocal stimming. And then it became a critique of how society treats disabled folks, and how it only gives the bare minimum. As a disabled person, yes. I wholeheartedly agree with all of it. I can’t count how many times I’ve been forced to drive my chair across an entire school campus because some inconsiderate schmuck decided to put freshman classes all the way on the other side of campus, in barely accessible portables. Not to mention the times where I had to drive up and down steep hills to get to and from P.E. in Elementary school. I swear to you, that I nearly tipped over multiple fucking times. And don’t even get me started on getting shoved into the special ed class for the first two weeks of sixth grade. Just don’t.  Public schools in Alabama, Mobile specifically, suck when it comes to disabled accommodations. It’s blatantly obvious that they don’t give two shits about folks like me. They never have, and they never will.

Obvious trauma-based rant aside, that got me thinking: How do Cybertronians view physical disabilities? Do they even know about them? Are there any equivalents to them in Cybertronian culture? Or is every bot built absurdly perfect and without physical flaw? I know there are instances of mental illness in Transformers canon; more specifically anxiety, depression, and PTSD. But I’ve never seen a bot with a physical disability. And no: I don’t count Transmutate. They could walk, so they’re not gonna count here. Is there a bot that, somehow, isn’t able to walk at all, or walk without assistance? Because holy fuck do I need my boys (Starscream, Knockout, and Breakdown) to understand my frustrations. I need them to understand why I get angry when I can’t access a building without having to go around back. I need them to understand why I get upset when I have to park out in the middle of goddamn nowhere because some able-bodied shithead parked in a handicapped space. More importantly, I need them to understand how to properly handle encounters with other folks like me. Because something tells me they’ve never navigated that kind of situation before. If Knockout, or Ratchet, or any other medic met a disabled bot, they can just fix the problem, and then everything’s fine. But that ain’t how humans work. Disabilities are permanent, and Cybertronians don’t know that, and they’d probably have trouble understanding why.

They’d be even more confused when they find out that people often equate ability to intelligence. I can’t count how many times some stranger came up to me and pulled the baby talk on me. Or, the times they talked to the person I was with instead of me. Or, they thought they knew what was best for me. Or, how they tried to speak for me. I remember back in my freshman year of high school, an aid for a blind kid was legit shocked to find out that I can talk. The worst thing is, she said that to my aid, right in front of me. They didn’t even wait until I was out of earshot.

I wonder how my boys would react. Hell, I wonder how every Transformers character would react to all this. Would they understand just how disrespectful that behavior is? Would they recognize and change their own behavior? Would they go out of their way to correct others if they did those things? All I can do is wonder, and that’s the most painful thing about the Transformers canon to me.

TL;DR: Dapper Manatee made me realize that Cybertronians might not have seen disabled people before. And it made my trauma bubble up to the surface and made me think about their possible lack of understanding.