#Classroom Management Principles

[drdemonprince]

hi Dr Devon, do you have any books/articles/etc to recommend for someone who wants to learn high school classroom management skills, with some general regard for disability accommodation?

I recommend reading unschooling approaches and Pedagogy of the Oppressed and rethinking the goal of classroom management / compliance altogether!

[realcube]

dilf december

day sixteen ⭑ koshi sugawara ⭑ teacher x teaching assistant ! reader

tw : suggestive! flirting, age gap and slight objectification.

it's true what they say about working with children: they keep you young.

over a decade of elementary school teaching had flown by, and sugawara was still working hard at the same school he started out in, meaning he was now considered a senior member of faculty.

not due to his age — after all, he was only thirty-seven — but because he had been employed by the school for a long period of time, not to mention the time and dedication he has put into his role as a teacher, and the countless other duties he had undertaken: school-trip chaperone, choir director, private tutor — just to name a few.

so now that he was regarded as a beloved and respected member of staff, the school board and principle teachers would afford him certain privileges that the younger staff had yet to earn. such as a nice, big parking spot closest to the school; an endless supply of dry-erase markers; extra pto and most importantly, a teaching assistant for his classroom.

although, he wasn't involved in the hiring process, he was told that the school board would do that on his behalf, which annoyed him as he worried that he'd be stuck with some recent graduate who is absolutely clueless while simultaneously desperate to please everyone at all costs.

and you were exactly that. but at least you were pretty.

despite your inexperience, it was still helpful to have an extra pair of hands around the classroom. and it didn't take you long to find the ropes, so around a month after joining, sugawara was able to leave you to lead a whole lesson while he worked on the student's tracking reports.

the children had tided up and were sat at there desks, talking amongst themselves while you kept a close eye on the time. soon enough, the bell rang and you dismissed the class, waving them all goodbye and reminding them about their homework before they all loudly scampered to the exit.

once they all left, you heave a deep sigh into the uneasy silence of the room, slowly beginning to recover from how overwhelming that lesson was. you had been doing festive fingerpaiting art today, and of course they were all extremely excited about it.

you managed to get them to wash all the palletes, brushes and paint cups they used, but the mess they left of the tables was in need of cleaning. you collect a blue roll and spray from the counter, then start to wiping down all the tables. thankfully the paints came off quite easily, so it didn't require any rigorous scrubbing — unlike the play-doh incident.

the tables were designed for elementary school students, meaning they were quite small, hence you had to bend over to properly rub the entire surface. meanwhile, sugawara feigned focus on his reports, while secretly admiring the view of you in that cute skirt. it wasn't short or anything, but it did hug you in all the right places, and your curves were only accentuated when you were bent over like that.

"how did i do, mr sugawara?" you ask, sweetly, still carrying the spray and roll from table to table.

"hm?" he perks up, pretending as though his attention was suddenly redirected from his work, "oh, your lesson? i think you did an amazing job; the kids really seem to like you."

you spin around on your heels to look at him with starry eyes, "really?"

"yeah. you're so kind and patient with them. you also explain the tasks very clearly." he chuckles, standing up from his chair while stretching his arm over his chest, "you're the perfect teacher for them. really putting me to shame here."

he chuckles at his final playful comment, while your eyes are verging on tears from the endless praise from your mentor and work crush. "thank you so much, but i'm only good at my job because you've helped me improve so much. i'm super grateful for this position as your teaching assistant." you speak, the volume of your voice quickly fluctuating with each sentence.

sugawara just finds you so adorable: how you fidget with your hands when you're nervous, your cute nose scrunch, and how it seems as though you can never hold eye-contact with him for more than three seconds. "i think you're giving me a bit too much credit." sugawara laughs awkwardly, picking up his work satchel and slinging it over his shoulder, then slowly sauntering towards you.

your voice shook with each step he took closer, your heart rate elevating in parallel, "i just wanted to let you know how much this job means to me, mr sugawara. it's such an honour to work with you." admittedly, perhaps you were being a bit dramatic for a teaching assistant gig — it's not like he was your karate sensei — but the words flooded out of your mouth before you had the opperunity to think.

he walked until he was stood directly in front of you, painfully close. his face was mere inches away from yours, and all you could do was stare aghast into his honey brown eyes, half-covered by his hooded lids, "huh, aren't you just the sweetest angel?" he says, sugar-glazed voice ringing through your ears like a chorus of bells. his hand reaches up to your face, his thumb lightly grazes your cheek then wanders down to ghost over your lips — and his eyes follow.

then, his fingers dips under your hair and push the strands behind your ear, flashing you a charming smile, "and you don't have to call me mr sugawara; kōshi is fine."

[haggishlyhagging]

It took about two hours for Daina Taimina to find the solution that had eluded mathematicians for over a century. It was 1997, and the Latvian mathematician was participating in a geometry workshop at Cornell University. David Henderson, the professor leading the workshop, was modelling a hyperbolic plane constructed out of thin, circular strips of paper taped together. 'It was disgusting,' laughed Taimina in an interview.

A hyperbolic plane is 'the geometric opposite' of a sphere, explains Henderson in an interview with arts and culture magazine Cabinet. 'On a sphere, the surface curves in on itself and is closed. A hyperbolic plane is a surface in which the space curves away from itself at every point.' It exists in nature in ruffled lettuce leaves, in coral leaf, in sea slugs, in cancer cells. Hyperbolic geometry is used by statisticians when they work with multidimensional data, by Pixar animators when they want to simulate realistic cloth, by auto-industry engineers to design aerodynamic cars, by acoustic engineers to design concert halls. It's the foundation of the theory of relativity, and thus the closest thing we have to an understanding of the shape of the universe. In short, hyperbolic space is a pretty big deal.

But for thousands of years, hyperbolic space didn't exist. At least it didn't according to mathematicians, who believed that there were only two types of space: Euclidean, or flat space, like a table, and spherical space, like a ball. In the nineteenth century, hyperbolic space was discovered - but only in principle. And although mathematicians tried for over a century to find a way to successfully represent this space physically, no one managed it - until Taimina attended that workshop at Cornell. Because as well as being a professor of mathematics, Taimina also liked to crochet.

Taimina learnt to crochet as a schoolgirl. Growing up in Latvia, part of the former Soviet Union, 'you fix your own car, you fix your own faucet - anything', she explains. 'When I was growing up, knitting or any other handiwork meant you could make a dress or a sweater different from everybody else's.' But while she had always seen patterns and algorithms in knitting and crochet, Taimina had never connected this traditional, domestic, feminine skill with her professional work in maths. Until that workshop in 1997. When she saw the battered paper approximation Henderson was using to explain hyperbolic space, she realised: I can make this out of crochet.

And so that's what she did. She spent her summer 'crocheting a classroom set of hyperbolic forms' by the swimming pool. 'People walked by, and they asked me, "What are you doing?" And I answered, "Oh, I'm crocheting the hyperbolic plane."' She has now created hundreds of models and explains that in the process of making them 'you get a very concrete sense of the space expanding exponentially. The first rows take no time but the later rows can take literally hours, they have so many stitches. You get a visceral sense of what "hyperbolic" really means.' Just looking at her models did the same for others: in an interview with the New York Times Taimina recalled a professor who had taught hyperbolic space for years seeing one and saying, 'Oh, so that's how they look.' Now her creations are the standard model for explaining hyperbolic space.

-Caroline Criado Perez, Invisible Women

Photo credit

[the-offside-rule]

Ferran Torres (FCBarcelona) - Profesora

Requested: yes

Warnings: none

The soft glow of the Barcelona morning sun seeped into the kitchen of the lavish home Y/n shared with Ferran. As she sipped her coffee, still dressed in her pajamas, Ferran strolled into the kitchen, already clad in his training gear. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his signature grin lighting up his face. "You’re up early" He teased. "What is on the agenda today?" Y/n chuckled and shook her head. "If by ‘agenda,’ you mean trying to keep them from talking about your game all day, then that." Ferran’s grin widened. "Oh, come on. Let them enjoy it! We worked hard for that win."

"You don’t understand." She sighed dramatically, setting her mug down. "The minute I walk in, it’s going to be ‘Miss Y/n, did you see the goal?’ or ‘Miss Y/n, Ferran is the best player ever!’ They’ll get so excited that no one will focus on math, reading, anything."

"And that’s bad because?" Ferran teased, leaning on the counter. "Because if I let them go wild, no work will ever get done." She shot back, though she was smiling. "Maybe they just need a little football-themed math or something." Ferran suggested. "I’ve tried that. It turns into chaos." Ferran laughed and shrugged. "Just let kids be kids, Y/n. They’ll remember these moments more than anything else." She rolled her eyes affectionately. "Easy for you to say. You don’t have to manage twenty little humans every day." Ferran winked and grabbed his bag. "Have fun, professora. See you later."

At school, the day unfolded exactly as Y/n predicted. The moment she walked into the classroom, a cacophony of little voices erupted.

"Viste el partido, señorita?" (Did you watch the game, Miss?)

"Ferran metió un gol increíble!"

"Barça es el mejor equipo del mundo!" (Barça is the best team in the world!)

She raised her hands for silence, forcing a smile as she addressed them in her calm, teacherly tone. "Sí, sí, el partido fue increíble. Pero ahora necesitamos concentrarnos. Hoy vamos a repasar matemáticas y luego leeremos un cuento. De acuerdo?" The students groaned but reluctantly opened their books as Y/n turned to write on the whiteboard.

Just as the classroom settled into its routine, a knock at the door startled Y/n. She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. Standing there, looking smug and entirely too handsome, was Ferran Torres. The room erupted in squeals of delight. "Ferran!" The kids chorused, jumping out of their seats. Y/n crossed her arms and walked over to him, her tone firm but laced with affection. "Qué haces aquí, señor Torres?" Y/n asked. She hadn't told the children she was with a football player. Not only was it none of their business, but she wanted to minimise the whole 'talking about football non-stop' thing they had going on. Ferran grinned. "Solo una visita, professora." (I'm just visiting, teacher). He shot her a wink. "Las visitas necesitan aprobación de la directora." (Visits must be approved by the principle). She reminded him, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"Ya llamé a la directora." (I called her). He said, holding up his phone. "Me dio permiso." (I'm allowed). Before she could protest, Ferran stepped inside, immediately surrounded by the kids. He crouched down, greeting each of them with a warm smile and engaging in little conversations. "Tú juegas al fútbol?" (Do you play football?) He asked one boy. "Sí, soy delantero, como tú." (Yes, I'm a forward, just like you). The boy replied proudly. "Muy bien! Sigue practicando." (Very good, keepy practicing). Ferran encouraged, ruffling the boy’s hair. Y/n watched from her desk, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile. Ferran had a natural way with the kids, his charisma effortlessly winning them over.

Eventually, he joined her at the front of the class, leaning over her desk. "Ves? Esto no está tan mal." (See? It wasnt that bad). He teased in a low voice. She sighed. "No, pero ahora soy yo quien no puede concentrarse." (No, but now I can't concentrate). Ferran laughed, and for the rest of the morning, he stayed by her side, helping with the lesson and even reading a story to the class. By the time he left, the students were buzzing with excitement, and for once, Y/n was happy he was going.

As she walked him to the door, she whispered. "Gracias por esto. Pero la próxima vez, avísame primero." (Thank you for this, but next tine let me know in advance). He turned, leaning against the door, towering over her. "Y perderme esta reacción? Ni hablar." (And miss your reaction? No way). With one last smile, Ferran left, leaving Y/n to finish her day with a classroom full of beaming children—and the undeniable realization that maybe, just maybe, letting kids be kids wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[selene-writes]

You-Me-Us Part 2

Hey! So should I make this a series based on the X-men movies? Let me know. I can't think of any warnings for this chapter, maybe just a mention of needles? And light angst/ jealously. Anyways enjoy :)

When Logan regained consciousness, his first and foremost thought was of you. The worry gnawed at him—where were you, and were you safe? His mind was a whirlwind of concern and irritation, heightened by the discomfort of needles pricking at him. The redheaded woman tending to him, despite her intentions, triggered his frustration. In a swift, instinctive reaction, he grabbed her by the collar and choked her until he realized she wasn't a threat and left. He felt a pang of guilt as he looked at her—she was strikingly pretty, and he didn’t relish the idea of hurting her. But his priority was clear: find you and get out.

He managed to find some clothes in a nearby locker, changing quickly.The uniforms in the center of the room caught his eye, but he pushed aside any thoughts about them for the moment. His only focus was finding you. He darted for the elevator, and after a brief ride, he emerged into a well-furnished wooden corridor, a stark contrast to the sterile environment he had just left.

Hearing footsteps approaching, Logan ducked into the nearest room. Inside, he found himself face-to-face with four kids seated behind desks, absorbed in their own activities like a regular classroom. The unexpected scene threw him off for a moment.

“Good morning, Logan,” a voice called out from behind him.

Startled, Logan spun around, his claws extending instinctively as he searched for the source of the threat. There, behind a desk, was a bald man, now sitting calmly with a chalkboard behind him. 

“Give me a moment,” the bald man said, turning his attention to the students. “So, we'll see the definitions of both weak and strong anthropic principles on my desk by Wednesday, all right? Off you go.”

The kids gathered their belongings and left the room quickly, leaving Logan and the bald man alone.

“Where is she? Where am I?” Logan demanded, his voice low and tense.

“Westchester, New York. You were attacked,” the man said, his voice calm but firm. “My team brought you here for medical attention. You’re safe now. The woman is in the next room and has just recently regained consciousness.”

“We don’t need medical attention,” Logan replied tersely, his voice rough with irritation.

“Of course,” the man responded, his tone placating. “And the girl?”

“Rogue? Yes, she’s here,” the man confirmed.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and several figures entered the room. Among them were the  redhead from earlier, a woman with silver hair, a man clad in dark glasses, and finally, you. As soon as your eyes met his, you couldn’t contain your relief and excitement. You rushed forward and enveloped him in a tight, heartfelt bear hug.

“Hey, Bub,” Logan said with a genuine smile as he looked down at you. The sight of his face filled you with relief. However, the moment was interrupted by a throat clearing from behind you. You turned to find everyone in the room observing you with curiosity. You blushed as you stepped back from Logan and faced the group.

The introductions began, with everyone introducing themselves to Logan—people you had already met. You couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy when you heard that Logan and Jean had previously crossed paths. Jean, with her undeniably beautiful and seemed taken with Logan. Although you got the sense that her and Scott were a thing. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the man in the wheelchair, Professor Charles Xavier. “...You’ll be safe here from Magneto.”

“Magneto?” you asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“Yes,” Professor Xavier continued. “He’s a powerful mutant who believes there is an impending war between mutantkind and the rest of humanity. I’ve been tracking his actions for some time. The man who attacked you is one of his associates, a mutant named Sabretooth. He led me to you both, and I need to understand why.”

You glanced at Logan, whose face remained a mask of unreadable emotion.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Logan said, his voice filled with frustration. He reached out, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the door. “We’re leaving.”

Scott, the man with the glasses, stepped in front of the door, blocking your exit.

“You don’t want to do that,” Logan growled in anger

It’s been fifteen years, hasn’t it?” Professor Xavier’s voice came from behind you, calm as always. Both you and Logan froze and turned around. “Fifteen years of living day to day… Moving from place to place, wondering who you are?”

“How do you—how do you know that?” you stammered, a wave of panic washing over you.

Professor Xavier’s gaze remained steady, and his voice echoed in your mind while his lips remained sealed. “As I mentioned, you’re not the only one with special abilities.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as he looked around. “What is this place?”

Part 1

[visenyaism]

which bg3 companion do you think would be the worst school teacher?

let’s get it on the board:

10. Unquestionably Astarion. he has no patience, is extremely prickly, is always looking out for himself first, hates children, and is bad at planning. he would not want to be a teacher or attempt to do it unless convinced through some kind of elaborate network of trickery or excessive bribery. he’s just not built for it.

9. Minthara. I debated whether to put her or Astarion last because I think that he would be worse at the job but she would probably end up causing more harm. I know she is running fascist panopticon classroom management at all times. type of person to leave the blinds shut at all times so it’s like an evil cave classroom with occasional nasty fluorescents. no one likes it in there.

8. Shadowheart. I don’t have a ton to say here I just don’t think her heart is in it. 

7. Minsc. enthusiasm can get you very very far.

6. Karlach. very very sweet and everyone loves her but also kind of scattered and goes on one billion tangents. could actually convince adolescents to enjoy gym class. 

5. Halsin. I think he would be pretty good at it but I also think a job that requires you to commit to having a routine would be terrible for him so he definitely wouldn’t stick around

4. Lae’zel. Hear me out she is extremely brusque and not always great with people, but the way that she is so straightforward and honest about her intentions, her goals, and what she’s trying to do to get everyone there would earn her a lot of respect very quickly. The people love a good clear consistent routine.

3. Jaheira. wins the award for most gay kids eating in her room at lunch. easily. never has a lesson plan but somehow her kids are always doing the best out of everyone in the building. takes no shit.

2. Gale. D1 yapper just like me for real. canonically IS a teacher. sometimes get stuck on tangents or forgets that students do not want to sit and listen to lectures for as long as he does. me personally I don’t think threatening to blow yourself up would be effective classroom management but male teachers simply get away with five times as much as they should

1. Wyll. One of the highest compliments I can give to another human being is that they would be an excellent specifically middle school teacher and I really think Wyll has the personality for it. he is so patient and warm and kind to others and unwaveringly principled AND extremely self-sacrificing so you know that admin love him. no one knows how he does it.

[florestmoon]

EYE FOR AN EYE CH 2 (Ghostface x Reader x Frank Morrison)

Summary: You’re met with the sad reality of what is your friendship with Frank; and you continue to get weird phone calls.

Contents: Angst, lots of angst with our boy Frank.

A/N: hiii hope you enjoy reading! This is just me setting more of the story, promise it will get much more interesting later on (;

Tick…Tick….Tick…

There was 5 minutes left in your last class. You settled your chin on your palm, glancing at the window to your left. The sky held a light grey tint, the clouds only a shade darker—looks like it will be raining today. The fact had you regretting not accepting a ride from Mary this morning and taking your bike. You wondered if you were going to be unlucky enough that it would start pouring during your 10 minute ride home.

Maybe you could even ask—

“Who??” A voice behind you interrupts your thoughts.

“Frank.” Another states with matching excitement.

Your head nearly turned fully in a knee jerk reaction at the name but it was a small enough glance that you noted it was the two cheerleaders to your right, then you kept your head turned towards the window. If you dared look long enough , you would have had to deal with the two blondes—both who you knew well enough that they wouldn’t miss the chance to humiliate you and call you out for staring.

“He beat the shit out of him in the cafeteria.” She continues. “They were talking near where those freaks hang out and the next thing I saw was Frank punching him on the floor. It took two teachers to pull him off. I think he broke his noise. Cathy said he was bleeding all over the floor..”

“Holy shit!” You can’t refrain the frown pulling at your lips when you hear them stifle their giggles. “So that’s why I saw Sheriff Mccall outside of the principles office on my way to class… You think they’ll take him out in handcuffs?”

“Hopefully. That would be hot.” Another set of giggles between the two before the forgotten clock strikes 2 P.M. and the bell rings. The class erupts in a chaos of shuffles and sighs of relief, but you continue to listen to the girls conversation as your notebook is shoved into your bag.

“What the hell did Billy say to him?”

“I don’t know. But Billy is an idiot. Everyone knows to not fuck with Frank, he got major anger issues or something.”

No. Frank was the idiot. You thought as you walked past them on your way out of the classroom. A destination set in your footsteps.

The school year had just started. It's only been one week since the school year begun, everyone settling into their new schedules and preparing for the following months that included the few important events during senior year. Dances, exams, prom, but most important for you—Graduation. That was something that you had promised yourself to be your one true focus, along with college applications and the overwhelming idea of scholarships—the only ticket out of this town.

It should’ve been on Frank’s mind as well but as you made your way to Principle Dickens office, and you caught a glimpse of him through the tiny window on the door, you realize that maybe Frank didn’t give a shit at all.

It was a surprise you even thought he would care with the way he was slumped back against one of the chairs in front of the desk.

His posture giving away what his thoughts were about whatever was coming out of the Principle Dicken’s mouth, the man nearly popping a vein that was protruding from his bald head as he rambled on. The Sheriff also couldn’t control his own expression of annoyance, seeming to want to just take Frank from the office. Whether it be his own distaste of the trouble maker and wanting to put him in the county jail overnight, or to get away from the drawn out lecture.

Taking your eyes away from them both, you finally focus your eyes on Frank. There was a small bandage on top of his nose. A spot of blood standing out agains the otherwise clean and white gauge. Looks like Billy managed to get one good shot.

You can’t imagine how he must look though.

Frank tilts his head back rolling his eyes. This only spurs Dickens to continue the verbal assault. Finally, his eyes lazily gaze towards the door and you both make eye contact. You grimace at the sudden tension that shifts in his body. With an awkward smile, you pull yourself away from the door and sit down on the bench a few feet away from it before any of the older two men notice your presence as well.

It’s also been a week since you both even acknowledged each other at school. There was a few glimpses here and there of Frank’s favorite red and grey varsity jacket in the school hallway or in the parking lot on your way out, but there was always either all three or one of the other friends in his group. Other than that— you haven’t seen or spoken to him. The last time being the time you both spoke on the phone after the tense encounter.

You let your bag fall on the floor beside your feet and examined your hands.

You imagine, with perfect clarity, how it all happened. That expression of his— sharp eyes and a deep scowl that followed Frank everywhere he went, turning away before surprising the other teen by throwing a punch straight to the jaw. Knocking him by surprise, Frank would take advantage and kick him to the ground, grabbing his shirt as he struggled on the ground and continued to throw blow after blow. You knew the only way Billy would have been able to mark Frank was when the two teachers pulled him off and held him back, and he took his chance to make himself look not as weak in front of the whole cafeteria.

But you knew his hands were perfectly clean (contrary to his face) while Franks was bruised and held some cuts from the impact.

“Freak.”

You glanced up noticing three jocks, all huddled near one of their lockers and glancing towards you. They snickered as you held their gaze before finally looking down at your hands again. Throat burning as your body tingles with humiliation.

Staring at your own hands, turning them around to glare at your own untouched knuckles, you wondered what it would feel like to lose control that way. It was natural for Frank. You only seen it once before, when you were 15 and he was 17, and a kid at the park thought it was funny to throw rocks at the stray cat you were just gaining the trust of with a can of tuna. The way his eyes shined bright with…excitement as the kid cried, clutching his eye and running from the both of you.

There was a denial of your own stir of enjoyment at the sight of it all, especially after Frank simply wiped his hands, grabbed yours and lead you to where the cat had escaped to.

How would it feel? Losing control that way?

You came back to reality when the door slammed shut, and the subject of your thoughts spoke.

“What are you doing here?”

Frank pursed his lips, watching you stand up and waste no time in examining his face. He flinches when you reach your hand towards his nose before stopping yourself. You note the absence of any handcuffs on his wrist and the sheriff by his side, a wave of relief rolling through you.

“Jesus Frank, I thought you were about to be taken to jail” You hiss. “What the hell are you thinking getting into a fight on the first week of school!”

“It doesn’t matter.” He grunts, grabbing your arm, the gentleness contradicting the roughness in his voice. He pulls you to walk beside him as he leads you down the hallway. “The dumbass deserved it.”

“Oh really.” You deadpan, both of you stopping before his locker. “I can’t imagine anything he said deserves him getting beaten so badly that you had him bleeding all over the cafeteria.”

“You weren’t there.” Frank opens the locker and grabs his backpack that was stuffed in there. He begins to shove a few of his things in it, grabbing a few photos that were pinned on the inside that you didn’t catch a glimpse of. Your eyes had focused on some of the sharpie writing that on the other side of the small locker door.

Julie + Frank <3

Suz was here (:

F.J.S.J

“How did you know where I was?”

It’s slam shut before you can read the rest.

“Some cheerleaders were gushing over how hot you would look being taken out of principle dickens office in handcuffs .” It starts to register that he had taken out nearly everything in the locker. “I’m surprised McCall even let you go. I thought I would have to wait for him to leave the room to talk to him..”

“Why?” Frank can’t hold back a smile as he pulls his back pack over one of his shoulders. “Were you going to sweet talk him into letting me off the hook? Use his sweet spot for you?”

You ignore the small hint of humor in his voice and look him in the eyes, seriously. “Maybe. How did you get off the hook anyway?”

Frank smile faded into a nonchalant expression. “I didn’t.”

You groan.

“You got suspended.” He begins to walk towards the double doors and you follow him. “How long this time? A week?”

When he doesn’t respond you let out a gasp. “No way. Two weeks?”

He pushes the doors open but pauses at the first steps towards the parking lot. You watch his expression carefully, holding the same uncaring attitude but the tension in his jaw gives it away. One look at his backpack again and your stomach drops.

“You got expelled.” You turn towards the door in a swift moment. “No way I’m going to talk to principle Dickens and I’ll make him change his mind—“

“I doubt that will do anything.” Frank stops you once before you can push the doors open once again. “Look, I’m glad the asshole expelled me. I’m sick of this place.”

“But you need to graduate.” You stare at him in shock, his cool attitude triggering a nerve. “How can you be so careless about this ?”

“I already flunked two times, it’s like not that asshole was going to let me graduate anyway.”

“You don’t know that !”

“Sweets.” Frank groans. “I’m happy about this. I can get a job full time now, make some extra cash. Have more time to myself.”

“What about college?”

“I don’t give a rats ass about college.” Frank scoffs. “Not everyone bases their life around that like you do.”

“But..” You pause with frown. “What about our plan? Us leaving Ormond?”

“You mean, your plan.” Frank says too quickly, and he seems to regret as fast as it came out. But it had its impact all the same. You stepped back, swallowing hard.

Right. There was no such thing as Our or Us anymore for you and Frank. The small piece of hope you were holding onto desperately crumbling in front of you. You tried so hard to run away from the fact that you were on your own now.

“Sorry.” You finally push out, your cheeks burning hot from shame mixed with the sudden embarrassment and irritation of accepting it.

“Wait—“

“Youre right.” You interrupt him, pulling away when he reaches out for you.

His face was a mix of emotions as he watches you try to push your own hurt from showing in your face. One look at the parking lot behind him and you see the same three teens that you admit you grown to dislike. They all stood besides his truck, not hiding the fact that they were watching the interaction.

You brush past him and make your way towards where the bike rack is. Your bike was the last one left, you take out the key as Frank follows behind you.

“That’s not what I meant.” He tries.

“I get it. Things are different. I’m stupid to think our plan was even still a thing.” You struggle with the lock for a second but it clocks, and you swiftly pull the bike onto the side walk . “You haven’t even spoken to me since school started so I don’t know what I was thinking coming to check on you.”

Frank places his hand on top of yours that were grabbing the handles and prevents you from walking away from him again. “You’re the one that’s been fucking ignoring me. Who’s the one that’s been calling you all summer?”

“Who’s the one that started ditching me earlier this year.” You fire back and you both stare at each other. A few drops of rain start falling on you both. “Who’s the one that made new friends, got a girlfriend and started forgetting our weekly movie nights.?”

“That’s bullshit.” Frank tenses, his gaze tight on yours, but you continue to push.

“You’re the one that started avoiding me. You found new friends and decided that they were better.” You pull away from his grasp and nearly run over his foot with your bike. He steps away before it does.

It looks like he’s going to continue arguing but you stop him.

“Speaking of which. You better go, Frank.” You nod towards his truck and he finally notices them. Eyebrows furrowing, although debating something. “Have fun with whatever plans you have next.”

You give him one last glance before walking away with your bike by your side, desperate to get away. He doesn’t stop you this time.

~~~

The can of cat food open with a pop— the smell striking your nose as you toss away the lid before making your way out into the night. The rain thankfully had stopped for the night, only leaving behind a chilly air and the smell of damp grass.

You walked towards the trash cans near your garage, setting down the can on the ground next to them.There was no sight of the cat you been feeding yet, but you knew by morning the can will turn up empty. You grab the empty one from the morning before.

“Fucking bitch!”

A door slam shut and out came your neighbor, the 30 year old man stumbling down the path towards his car. He barely acknowledges your staring as he enters—well really throws himself clumsily into the car, the headlights nearly blinding you as the engine roars to life.

“John!” A woman yells as she exits the same door. “Where the hell are you going?!”

John ignores her, the radio drowning out her yelling his name when he drives off , wheels skidding across the pavement as he disappears down the road. She tilts her head back, her body deflating in exhaustion, palm rubbing against her forehead as though wiping something away.

She doesn’t seem startled once she notices you watching her, only dropping her arm and throwing you a sheepish smile. She ignores the way you look over her scrubs before searching for something on her face, anything to indicate that he had hurt her again.

Jenny was always good at hiding it. After your two years of living next to her, you caught on the pattern of their relationship. You learned early on to not step in, getting scolded for trying to call the police on the bastard. So you learned to watch and make sure nothing went too far.

“Hey..” She crosses her arms across her chest and steps down the steps. “Uh, how’s the cat?”

“Good.” You state, relaxing once you note she seems to be untouched. “I think she’s pregnant. Her belly looks a bit bigger.”

“Or maybe you been feeding her too much.” She smiles, eying the can in your hands. “I saw that she eats the whole can now. How’s the stock holding up? Do you need me to buy more ?”

You shake your head, finally opening the trash can lid and tossing the can inside.

“I should be good for a few more days.” You wipe your hands on your sweats. “I’ll let you know once I’m out..thanks by the way.”

Jenny only nods and seems to turn to head back inside but you stop her.

“Uh..you’re okay..right?” You hesitate, not knowing whether you were pushing it.

You and Jenny had a small relationship where she would always greet you, either if she was leaving for her 12 hour shift at the only hospital this town had or if she was just returning from it by the time you got home from school. Once she had noticed the stray cat that begin hanging around both your yards and you only being able to feed it slices of ham, she made an agreement that she would buy the stocks of cat food and you would be in charge of feeding her.

There was always nights like tonight, where John would make a scene, either throwing things around the house in a drunken rage or having a full blown screaming match. You noticed the black eyes but like any other person in your life, she was good at lying and brushing it off.

“I’m okay.” She throws you one of those smiles and you feel a tug of annoyance at it. The fakeness of it, as though she was trying to protect you from something that you already knew the truth to. So what was the point?

“Its late and freaking cold, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“It’s not that late.” You mutter, shrugging. She also always treated you like a kid, you weren’t sure if you hated or liked it sometimes. “It’s Friday”

“Right, still. It’s dangerous for you to be out so late, you never know who’s lurking around.” She remarks and heads up the steps. “Well goodnight.”

“Night.” You watch her head inside, lingering for a few minutes, hoping the cat would pop up but nothing. You go back inside, locking the door. Her remark sent shivers down your spine, prompting you to shut the curtains on the kitchen window before going down the hallway to your room.

Before you could shut the door, the phone rings.

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of it, its ringing slicing through the silence that you grown accustomed to in the house the past hour. There didn’t seem to be any sound from your fosters bedroom, no worry to answer the phone and see who was calling this late so you make your way to the kitchen again.

“Hello?” You answer once you put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Yes?” You rub your eyes and look at the clock. 10:36 pm.

“Who is this?”

“Um..” You cock your head in confusion. “Well who are you trying to reach?”

“Jenny.”

You pause, registering the raspy low voice. It sounds almost muffled, it’s a voice you don’t regconize. But you do recognize the name.

“Um sorry.. you got the wrong number.”

“Did I?” The voice croons, seemingly to be amused by the fact, you couldn’t pin on why. “Then who is this?”

You frown, the night a few weeks ago replaying in your mind. How do you know it wasn’t some creep trying to get off again?

But they knew Jenny, so maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Still, you’re cautious with your answer.

“I’m her neighbor.” You look towards a small post it note you had pinned to the fridge. Jenny had given you her number a few months after you moved here, telling you to call her for anything. “I have her number though, I can read it out to you—”

“No that’s okay.” The voice hums. “I think I prefer to talk to you.”

You blink, at lost for words. A small burn tingles at your cheeks.

“You never answered my questioned.” There seems to shuffling on the other side, the person moving around and you suddenly feel this urge to look at your surroundings. “Who am I talking to?”

“I don’t exactly feel comfortable telling you my name.” You finally answer, trying to make your voice stern but it wavers. “I’m not going to talk to some stranger over the phone, so do you want me to give you Jenny’s number?”

“Don’t be like that sweetheart.” The voice teases, they let out a small amused chuckle. “We don’t have to be strangers. Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.”

You bite your lip, you couldn’t help but feel a bit intrigued. But you knew better. Even if the sudden nickname disarmed you, you couldn’t ignore the fact that this was some creep.

“Tell me yours first.” You finally say. The voice only chuckles again.

“How do I know you will tell me yours?”

You shrug, forgetting that they couldn’t see you but they seem to predict it, the raspy voice flowing out the phone before you can say anything.

”Well that’s not fair, Y/N.”

Your breath hitches in surprise. Your hand grips the phone tight as the uneasiness settles back.

“what..how do you..who is this?”

“A friend of Jenny’s.” He muses, and you feel yourself start to grow impatient. Was this some type of prank? There was no way this was John, he was too drunk to even be able to plan a prank call. Plus, this was the stupidest type of prank call. It wasn’t even funny.

There was no way this was Frank. He would at least make it more amusing, less creepy.

“Yeah well if you were a friend of Jenny’s, you would at least get the right number.” You open the curtain, noting the lights were on in Jenny’s home still.

“But I do have the right number.”

“You don’t.” You say sharply. “I’m going to hang up now. So last chance, do you want her number or not creep.”

“Cute.” The voice doesn’t sound amused anymore, there was something…different to the tone now. You barely noticed it before the upbeat tone comes again and they sigh, giving up.

“Alright, since you insist.” They click their tongue. “Give me Jenny’s number then.”

You grab the note off the fridge and clear your throat, unsure whether you should but begin reading off the numbers. Right when you say the last number , the phone clicks. They hung up and you’re left standing there.

You wait to hear a distant phone ringing, coming from Jenny’s kitchen window that’s right across from yours.

Minutes pass by and the house stays quiet. The raspy voice echoing in your head. She never gets the call that night.

[the-curious-butterfly]

The new girl, Violet, sure is an odd duck. Perhaps it’s the fact that she refuses to give her last name, or the fact that she talks to things no one else can see. At least that’s what it seems like when she’s talking with plants and trees as if they could talk back. Although not technically that odd to Red, nearly everything talks in Wonderland. There in lies the problem, however, this is Auradon not Wonderland, nearly nothing talks here.

Yet oddest of all is how she keeps managing to run into Chloe and Red at the oddest times. Times that feel almost pivotal if it weren’t for these strange occurrences that would happen.

Like that time Red and Chloe got locked up in the Alchemy Classroom after school hours (long story) and after some banter combined with the acceptance of their fate, (apparently Principle Uma took her job rather seriously and after about a week of Red picking locks had decided to be a buzzkill and upgrade them, to the point where even if you manage to break in it will simply go back in place and more reinforced than before. What the heck, right?) Red had decided to, well not completely confess, but perhaps give an idea about certain feelings she may or may not have been having recently.

Only to be interrupted by the sound of the door opening and a purple clad girl making her way inside. Red thought there was something odd with the way she looked when she saw them, sure it was surprised but there was a kind of feigned quality to it that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Oh, you two are here too, that’s sure is weird. Good thing it was me who found you though, would be awful for you to have to get sent back home for a week and accidentally cause a catastrophic event.”

“…Yes…that really would be…awful.” Not as awful as she felt having her confession interrupted, but technically this is a more preferable outcome… although, how did Violet know what PU told her the last time?

Chloe, for her part, was simply stuck in her head with a frown, feeling like something very important had just been taken from her.

Oh well, there was always another time to confess to Red. Preferably somewhere where Violet couldn’t interrupt them like she did the last five times.

In Violet’s defense, however, they could really benefit from choosing moments that weren’t connected to life or death situations. She’s just saying.

[cognitivejustice]

Estonia's capital the City of Tallinn will provide residents with convenient opportunities to dispose of waste, repair items, and reuse them. The center is scheduled to open in 2026.

According to Mayor Jevgeni Ossinovski, Tallinn aims to become a city where sustainable choices are a natural part of daily life:

"The Lasnamäe center is more than just a waste station – it’s a community-oriented service that enriches the area and supports the city’s green transition"

“The new center will make it easier and more practical for residents to make environmentally conscious choices, while also supporting the development of circular business models and the broader sector. It will bring together the local community, innovative companies, and attract international delegations, creating a unique cooperation platform that supports sustainable regional development.” The building itself is a good example of sustainable construction principles. The facade will be built using reclaimed wood, the interior will use recycled materials, such as repurposed wood for shelving and lighting fixtures made from used tires. A small solar power plant will be installed on the roof, which will also feature a green roof to help mitigate the urban heat island effect. Rainwater will be used for flushing toilets and watering landscaping around the building. A smart management system will adjust lighting and energy use automatically based on room occupancy. The center’s waste station will enable separate collection of different waste types. The circular hub will allow residents to donate usable household items and repair broken items with the help of professionals. The building will also include classrooms for environmental and circular economy training sessions, practical workshops, and conferences.

[s12-kittie]

@magixfairyix @darlenicy @thewillowofveles @melissathettpdmember here's a little WIP and an illustration to it. I hope you'll like it!!

The WIP is below the cut

Also a tiny note: the Quartz's dress is the same colour with her dark fairy transfromation

☆symbolism☆

TW: SPOILERS TO THE FIC (also abuse)

“I still can’t believe it!” Quartz hissed.

Saying that she was unpleasantly surprised when she discovered that Ruby had become one of the most powerful witches of the millennium meant saying nothing.

How had Ruby managed to get a family jewel, and the one of such worth?! Ruby, her good-for-nothing twin sister, the troublemaker who had failed to carry the honour of the family.

The fairy of gemstones only saw her sister during merged classes, but she had heard all kinds of rumours about Ruby: the witch of gemstones always broke discipline during classes, abused other students and had been an inch close to being expelled before receiving a ring.

“How is it even possible?” Quartz murmured, trying to read the same page for Dragon-knows-what time. “Why her and not me?! Am I not the best? Am I not a better daughter?”

In fact, Quartz was the only member of her family who knew about it, and she had no intention to change it. The last thing the fairy of gemstones needed was making her mother furious again. Even though Quartz felt terrible for hiding things, especially such important ones, from her family, she couldn’t bring herself to talk and then receive another punishment, which, by all means, she had fully deserved.

But the fairy couldn’t afford getting more humiliated, especially now, when her reputation was already crashing into pieces.

There was a reason to that. At the mid-year exam at Alfea, after giving it a lot of thought, Quartz decided to break all her principles and to cheat. She created a perfect plan, but something went wrong and Quartz was caught and ashamed in front of the whole classroom. Of course, her parents had been informed right away.

The fairy had been severely grounded with nothing to do but study from early morning till late night, repeating all the material to her mother before going to bed. If Quartz forgot any piece of information, she had to wake up several hours earlier the next day to revise that material again and then retell it to her mother and father once again before breakfast. If she failed again, she had to skip breakfast and et cetera.

“Why?! Why did she get it?!” Quartz’s hands trembled with rage. “Why her, not me?! She’s a failure! She’s a shame!” The fairy took a deep inhaled and then slowly let the air out. “Fine. I have to try even harder now. And when this comes out, mother won’t be furious. Maybe…”

She looked at the clock. There was only half an hour left before her departure to Alfea.

Quartz got off her bed and opened the huge white wardrobe, only half of which was filled with clothes.

“I must be too thin for these now.” The fairy moved a few dresses, skirts and blouses aside before her gaze fell on another dress.

Unlike other clothing, mostly being white, lilac or light-pink, the dress had dark, dusty-pink colour, long puffy sleeves, a midi skirt, and a slightly ruffled collar which was supposed to cover most of the neck.

It was Quartz’s gift from her mother, back when the fairy had succeeded in the final exams during her first year at Alfea, despite still being unable to transform. Amethia, though, hadn’t disapproved of this: according to her, sixteen had been a very young age and that Quartz would earn her basic fairy form only after becoming an adult, not a year earlier.

After that she had given the fairy the dress, which was very alike with the ones Amethia wore herself, just shorter and simpler.

“In a year, you will be allowed to wear jewellery.” Quartz’s mother had said then. “In case if your worth will be appropriate, of course.”

Since then, the fairy had been working harder than ever.

And failed miserably just before the finish line.

Was she even worthy of wearing this dress now?

With her hands still trembling, Quartz drew it out of the wardrobe and put it on.

It was a little too tight in the chest and waist, and the sleeved made her broad, masculine shoulders even wider. But the fairy decided not to take it off. No matter what happens. Because she had to be like her mother.

Wearing the same look as one’s parent had a great significance among nobility. It meant that the heir of the family honour was ready to carry it along with the others.

And after that there was no backing out.

Quartz headed to the dressing table and put her hair in high and neat bun. Only two strands of hair, much shorter than the rest of it, fell on her forehead, reaching to the tip of her nose. Rage rose inside the fairy when she remembered that Ruby had the same feature. With a simple spell, Quartz made the unkempt hair rise and attach to the upper part of the head.

Glancing in the mirror once again, she fairy gasped with fear.

Now she looked just like her mother.

The knock on the door made the girl flinch.

“Miss Quartz, it is time for you to come!” A girl’s voice called.

“Yes, right away, Violet.” The fairy replied.

Normally Violet, one of the few servant girls living in a mansion, would refer to her as “Lady Quartz”, but now Amethia had forbidden her to do it, just to teach the fairy of gemstones another lesson.

Being done with her hair, Quartz put on her brown shoes, put the books in the suitcase with a spell and headed to the door.

Violet, being the same age as the fairy, was waiting right behind it.

“You can take the bags.” Quartz told her before passing by.

Going down the big marble stairs, the fairy, with the heart pouncing inside her chest, prayed that her mother wouldn’t be staying in the hall, distracted by some other duties.

But there she was.

With cold, violet eyes and light-pink hair, like Quartz’s, wearing a dark, almost black purple gown.

Doing her best not to shake, the fairy came closer.

“I’m ready to depart, mother.” She bowed.

Even with her eyes looking down, Quartz could feel Amethia’s gaze scanning her from top to toe, and chills ran down the fairy’s back.

“I hope you understand what you are doing.” The woman finally said.

“Yes, mother.”

It related to the dress, of course.

“Look me in the eyes.” Amethia demanded.

Quartz obeyed, though it was much harder than gazing at the floor.

Her mother examined the fairy’s face.

“Very good.” She finally concluded. “Now go. I will be going with you this time…”

Quartz’s heart skipped a beat.

“…To give Griselda a few instructions relating to your punishment.” Her mother finished.

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Seven

☁︎ Notes: okay I mention Aya's powers a lot in this chapter. Bear with me, there's explanation coming soon! The plot picks up a lot after this one. 👀

I tried to stay true to the order of events in ACOWAR but it was melting my brain a little bit so if you see something wrong no you didn't

Aya's Dress

☁︎ Warnings: Angst, female character is called a slut, canon fighting and violence

☁︎ Word Count: 4k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ Taglist: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor @secret-third-thing @bookwormysblog @mal-adaptive-dreams

The sky was an annoying shade of blue today. Its cheerfulness was obnoxious and mocking. If the sky would not respect her dismal mood, it could at least have the respect to be a little more solemn with the threat of war hanging over Prythian.

Aya sat at her desk in the classroom, staring out the arched window with her chin resting on her palm. Her other hand was curled into a fist, knuckles tapping on the table top. She was vaguely aware of a voice drifting in her direction and it took her a moment to untangle her thoughts from her grudge at the sky. 

"Did you say something?" She turned toward her instructor, hoping her tone didn't hold any of her grumpiness. 

"I said I have another job for you," Helene answered from behind her desk, her eyes glittering with amusement, "Set up for a visiting lecturer. Pays 40 marks."

Aya nodded, her gaze turning toward the window again. 

"What's got you in such a mood?" Helene asked, swallowing her chuckle. 

Everyone else avoided Aya in this state. Her temper was not easily provoked, but the consequences of it were weighty enough to make most steer clear. Helene, however, had never been scared of Aya. Not of her power, her temper, or the fact that her cousin was High Lord. 

"Thesan will not let me attend the High Lord's meeting," Aya grumbled, brows drawn together in a deep scowl. 

"What on earth would you want to do that for?" Helene scoffed, "You hate politics."

That was something Aya was having a hard time answering for herself. She didn't know exactly why, only that the unfairness of it burned in her chest like she was a child left out of something fun. It unraveled a restless feeling that she thought she had stitched down a long time ago. She knew that if she wanted to, she could dig deep and find the words to explain what she was feeling, but she was not ready.

"It's the principle of it," She said, "Zoren gets to go."

"There's nothing of interest for you there," Helene soothed. 

"It's just such a rare opportunity," Aya sighed. 

That much was true. What she did not tell her teacher, or anyone, was that she planning to do something incredibly stupid, because it was the only thing that would quell the rising beast. She was going to break her own vow not to snoop or sleuth, and she was going to take a page from the Autumn Court’s book to get what she wanted. 

"At least you can still mingle," Helene said, "You could buy a new dress for the parties."

The rest of the students began to file in, the bell chiming in the distance to signal the beginning of class. Helene had managed to find probably the only silver lining of the situation. The prospect of a new dress managed to cheer Aya up just enough to stop glowering at the undeserving sky. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Aya stood in front of her mirror, pale light illuminating her wide eyes and parted lips. She barely recognized her reflection, bundled in a wool shawl, thermos tucked under her arm. She asked herself once more if she was really going to do this. And something stubborn snapped in her chest and she knew that the disappointment of not doing it would be unbearable. 

But as she squared her shoulders and wiped that cowardice from her expression, another question drifted into her mind. What was she doing this for? Aya watched her face fall again in the mirror, something solemn and pensive taking over. She still did not have an answer. Maybe by the end of the day, she would know.

Outside, Aya was surrounded by a blend of lovely pastel colors, a classic Dawn Court sunrise. As if the sky knew of the impending meeting and sought to showcase all of the beauty the court had to offer. The morning air was chilly and sweet-smelling, caressing her skin with a soft touch as she flew to the hiding place she had scouted. 

In between carved sunstone ornaments and billows of ivy and flowers, there was a blind spot in the eaves where no one would see her. It was just inside the wards Thesan had set up, but she stepped through them easily. Closing her eyes, the layers of wards appeared as closed gateways, each one faintly humming and glowing a different color. She had never tried to pick apart other wards before, but she had always been able to dismantle Thesan's easily. She had never told him that fact.

Guilt spread through her body with every beat of her hammering heart as she caught sight of Thesan and Zoren waiting in the meeting room. Thesan had not exactly forbid her from attending, but then again he had never had to use such harsh wording with her. He would probably never think to check the eaves for a spying Aya. 

Zoren might, however. He was not as biased in his view of her, seeing her from an angle that her cousin could not. He saw her cunning and zealousness plainly. But neither one of them looked up. Their soft, lovesick laughter echoed gently through the tower as they leaned into the other and shared their secrets. An ache spread in Aya's chest at the sight of it. 

The lovers quickly straightened as Kallias made his arrival. The air around him was hazy with frost, his almost-white hair and skin stark against the warmth of the golden sunstone. Thesan rose to his full height as he stood, his unassuming power wrapping around him like a shield. Aya could see the personal wards around each figure, faintly humming and each glowing a different color. Vivian's lovely laughter filled the room as she joked with the rest of the group. 

Each High Lord had loosened their glamor, for reasons both arrogant and practical, and each arrived in a wave of grandeur, the essence of their court filling the air like perfume. It was a dizzying experience to behold it all in one place, the earthy smell of spring, the frost of winter dancing through the air. At certain angles, Helion was almost painful to look at, like he reflected the entire sun. Staring at Tarquin for too long made the room start to sway, as if the space around him moved like the ocean. 

As for the High Lord and Lady of Night, Prythian may have plenty of opinions, but it could not be said that their entrance was not impressive. Their powers seemed to dance together in a way that others did not, like Feyre's magic had been elevated with her status. Or it was simply their mating bond, as visible as their matching tattoos. The air around Rhysand rippled with darkness, and Feyre beside him was the glimmer of starlight. Both held equal measures of bite and beauty.

Aya had a personal policy of not believing rumors, one she shared with Thesan. In part because nearly every High Fae was robed in legends, myths, and lies. And in part because the truth always proved to be worth pursuing. And in turn, it never proved to be beneficial to believe in rumors about women that were started by men. She guessed that this was the main reason for Thesan's attendance. He wished to begin untangling truths and lies. 

She knew it was true as she watched him, sitting quietly and listening with intense focus, his eyes darting back and forth as he pulled the threads apart in his mind. He had no idea how much her powers could have helped. 

Watching her cousin's gaze flit back and forth around the table, paying attention to what he paid attention to, Aya listened to the High Lords’ examination of Rhysand's character. Given the events of Under the Mountain, it did not seem unfounded. Especially because they could not see what Aya saw. The High Lord had his fair share of dark threads weaving through his being, ego and temptation like clouds that sometimes drifted over the moon. But despite those things, despite the blood on his hands and the red in his ledger, he wanted to be good. 

The Autumn Court’s late arrival interrupted the interrogation. They walked in a formation, Edana tucked into Beron’s side looking regal and lovely, despite the fact that she had shrunk herself into the shadow of her husband. All fire and cunning gone from her eyes. The entourage glittered in fabrics of deep green and plum, gold trim catching the sunlight. 

Beron had relaxed his glamor like the other High Lords, but Aya noticed that Eris had not. Even so, he was easily the most beautiful of the group, borrowing so many features from his mother. Something he had in common with Lucien. His strong jawline and thick eyebrows contrasted with soft eyes and full lips. A lean and well-built body, covered in countless scars that hid underneath the velvet of his suit. The sunshine followed him, glowing with an extra warmth in every place it touched his skin, threatening to erupt into flames. Eris kept a leash on his power so he would not overshadow his father. 

With Eris present, Aya became so acutely aware of herself that she was certain she would be noticed, that someone’s gaze would drift just a bit too far upwards and she would be caught. But all attention was stuck on the other three brutish brothers, staring down each attendee like wolves circling their prey. Eris hissed a command and they backed off, ending their show of power. Aya could not tell which brother was the one she had healed in Eris’s room, but none of them looked like they would like to express their gratitude if they knew.

As the meeting continued and more voices joined the din, it grew difficult to catch every word. The roaring wind swept away half of the conversation, other bits drowned out by the chattering birds. Aya could piece it together with context and a few of her secret talents, but when Tamlin began throwing his tantrum and hurling insults, she let the words remain lost. Beron and Helion seemed to enjoy the discourse, but Aya did not care to listen to it. 

Aya did not know when the conflict between Tamlin and the High Lady had dissolved and the tension between Eris and the Night Court began. She watched each tense face carefully, straining to hear what the Autumn Heir was saying.  

“....like a slut.” Were the only words she caught.

The last word reverberated through the room, and time seemed to move slower as Aya watched the Morrigan’s face contort in pain and anger. It was not even a full second between the insult leaving Eris’s lips and the shadowsinger pouncing. Azriel slammed into Eris, pushing him to the floor and enveloping the pair in a bubble of cobalt magic. Aya pressed a hand over her mouth, heart racing as she watched them grapple. Her wings threatened to spread but she pulled them in even tighter, so tight that her back cramped with the effort. Eris was not fighting back, only fighting to get free. He did not try to move out of the way of Azriel’s fist.

Several called out for the fight to stop, but it was the High Lady’s voice, low and calm, that made the shadowsinger pause. Aya watched, her breathing ragged, as Azriel knelt and whispered something into Eris’s ear, and then stood. She turned her gaze over to Edana, gripping the arms of her chair with white knuckles, still unmoving. Eris stood, murmured an apology, and smoothed his jacket. 

The meeting moved on quickly, but Aya could not stop hearing Eris’s voice echoing through the tower. She almost wished she had not heard it, that the whole scene had been swept away by that persistent wind and then he would be the same Eris as before. She had heard a vague version of the

 events between him and the Morrigan. She had never really thought much about it. Every person sitting at that table had done terrible things for good reasons. And everything Eris did was calculated, he would not have said such a thing without a reason. Or would he? The Eris she had built in her mind was crumbling, growing fuzzy at the edges as she realized that she might not know him at all. 

She held the secrets of his scars, had collected handfuls of late night meetings, but that could very well mean nothing in the grand scheme of knowing Eris. There was a chance he was just like the rest of them. Cold, jaded, cruel. And there was a chance that up here, on the outside of everything important, she would never get close enough to find out. 

The uneasiness under her skin heated to a simmer as she watched Nuan enter and present her antidote. Nuan, beautiful and smart and clever. It was a childish thing that should have faded a long time ago, but Aya could not rid herself of the jealousy. There may be plenty of room at Thesan’s table for his found family, but some days when her mind grew cloudy, she wondered if she had a place there at all. 

That mood continued to roll in like a thick fog, and she laid down on the sunstone, pressing her cheek to the cool, sleek surface. Pulling the wool shawl tighter around herself, she continued to half-listen to things she only half-understood.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Just as Aya had begun to grow bored, the tension began to rise again. A long string of scathing insults poured from Beron’s mouth, filling the air with burning heat. He spat each one with more disdain than the last, not once heeding the High Lady’s warnings. He should not have been surprised when Feyre exploded. A wave of brilliant fire pushed through Beron’s wards and managed to singe him. The vibrant flames caught Edana’s sleeve, and Aya stiffened, a choked sound leaving her throat. 

Beron gathered himself and his wards, but Feyre did not relent, sending waves of water next. Aya dared to glance at Eris and saw his eyes gleaming with wicked hope as his father struggled. The others gaped at the reveal of Feyre's powers. Rhysand persuaded her to stop, managing a few jabs towards the Autumn Court as he did so, and the damage was done. None of the High Lords were particularly happy about their supposedly stolen kernels of power, even Thesan. Aya thought to herself that they didn't seem to mind so much when Feyre was the Cursebreaker and freed them all.

Beron was furious at all of it, declaring the meeting over as if he had the power to do so. His loyal entourage stood, following his every move, save for Eris.

The High Lady’s sister rose from her seat and spoke before they could leave. She had the whole room within her grip, something terrifying and ethereal in her eyes and voice. But Beron only muttered his dismissal and winnowed. A chorus of snaps filled the silence as the rest of his group followed.

Eris lingered just a moment longer, his gaze flickering upwards and finding Aya in the eaves. Almost imperceptibly, he tilted his head toward the door.

Aya's heart leapt into her throat and she forced herself to move slowly and quietly as she backed out of her hiding spot. Careful not to rustle the ivy, she crossed back through the wards and scrambled down the levels of pillars and carvings. 

Eris had winnowed to the hall outside of the door, waiting with his hands clasped behind his back. Aya stood before him, her breathing heavy, eyes widening as she caught sight of the blooming bruises around his neck. His brows were knit together tightly, worry etched into the space between them. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice still that of the Autumn Heir. 

Aya opened her mouth to answer and found that she still had not thought of a good answer to that question. I wanted to see you, was on the tip of her tongue, but she would not let it loose.

“This is my court,” She stammered. Her mind felt slow, frosted over. His eyes searched hers and she was terrified he could somehow read what she refused to say.

“You shouldn’t be here,” He said, face softening into something more recognizable.

“Why not?” She whispered, swallowing hard.

“The other High Lords would not take kindly to finding a spy,” His voice was tight, “My father could have killed you on the spot.” 

He was right. She had not thought of that. That Thesan could not go easy on her if she was caught in front of everyone. Her gaze flickered away from his intense stare, landing on that necklace of purple fingerprints. She could not help but focus a spark of her power on them. Eris frowned as he watched her expression turn distant, and then his eyes widened. 

“Stop that,” He hissed, taking a step back. A hand flew to his neck, as if to keep the bruises from disappearing.

Aya flinched, her focus returning to his face. To his flushed cheeks and wild eyes.

“You can’t heal me,” He said, “My father would know.” 

Aya just shook her head. This was all wrong.

“I have to go,” Eris sighed, looking over his shoulder, “Just go home, please.” 

He was gone in an instant, the air crackling as he winnowed. Aya stood still, staring at the space where he had been, feeling like something of a liability.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Aya smoothed the front of her dress, a slip of dusty pink silk with golden trim. She had picked something similar to the one Eris had seemed to like so much, with a low back and draping neckline. Her jewelry was all pearls and gold, bracelets clinking as she moved. She took one more deep breath and walked through the archway into the party. 

Soft Dawn Court music played through the circular room, every surface draped in lovely fabrics and pillows. Trays of food and flutes of champagne littered the tables, servers swirling through the crowd to refill and take away plates. There were groups playing cards, boisterous laughter over drinking games, dancing, and pairs flirting in candle lit alcoves. Colors of all the courts mixed together, a rainbow of merriment. 

Aya’s gaze swept through the mix of faces, searching for one peppered with freckles. She found him, sitting on a velvet couch with cards in his hand. And one of her classmates sat on the back of the couch, giggling down into his smirking face, her fingertips grazing his neck as she made his bruises fade.

If Aya had thought she felt sick earlier, it was nothing compared to now. Dizziness overwhelmed her as she understood a dozen things at once. She was realizing how attached she had grown to him, how much she had wanted his compliments on her dress. She was realizing that, somewhere between the healing sessions, in the quiet and dim light of Eris’s room, she had begun to think of herself as his. 

His healer, his angel, his friend. 

Now, to think she had dreamt up that intimacy was too painful to bear. And it was Fleura healing him, the one who hated her most, never failing to toss Aya a look of disgust. She stood there frozen in the archway, gaze glued to him. To make matters worse, Fleura noticed her, flashing a look of mocking pity before she giggled behind her hand. Eris followed her gaze, locking eyes with Aya, and his smirk faded. 

The rest of the party disappeared. It was only Aya and Eris, staring at each other with miles of unsaid things between them.

“Are you coming or going?” A deep, smooth voice pulled Aya from that moment. 

She turned and looked into the face of the High Lord of Summer. The weight of Eris’s stare was heavy, but she willed herself to hold the gaze of the turquoise eyes looking down at her. 

“Oh, I haven’t decided yet,” She stammered, stepping aside when she realized she was blocking him in. 

Tarquin gave her a crooked smile, revealing perfect, shiny teeth. A bit of her angst melted under the pure sunshine that radiated from him. He smelled like sea salt and coconut and summer.

“I thought I might go,” The High Lord said, “But the most interesting people keep appearing in this archway. I think I'll stay.”

Aya’s cheeks burned as she returned his smile. He offered an arm to her and added, “Would you like to get a drink?” 

“Yes,” Aya breathed, taking his arm and trying to quiet her dizzy mind as he swept her away toward the bar. 

She decided to be a little wicked, letting her billowing skirt brush over the arm that Eris draped over the couch as she walked by. She did not turn to see if he was looking. To inspect for any sliver of jealousy on his face. Though it felt as though her heart was splitting as she looked back up at Tarquin and realized that as lovely of a color as blue was, she still liked amber better.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Eris did not sleep well that night. 

He did not particularly care for the open, breezy rooms of Dawn, all stone and sheer fabrics. None of the cozy velvet and dark wood he was used to. There was also no fireplace, depriving him of the comforting crackle of fire as he slept. With everything that had happened, he should be tired enough that it didn’t matter. But he lay awake, trying and failing to catalog the events of the day. 

He would not forget the look on Aya’s face when she had spotted him sitting there with that giggling, air-headed healer. He should have just shoved the girl away, but it was like all of the fight had drained from him and for some gods-damned reason he had simply disguised his grimace with a smirk and hoped she left him alone soon.

The image haunted him, continuing to appear no matter how many times he shoved it away. Aya, standing in the archway, her wickedly lovely dress shimmering in the candle light, with the unmistakable look of someone who had been betrayed. He should have stood, should have rushed to her, should have confessed.

I came back for you. I've been waiting for you. 

But something about her never stopped causing him to act the opposite of how he wanted. So he sat there like an idiot while she was spun away and charmed by Tarquin. Young and powerful Tarquin, likely better suited for someone like her.

When he did sleep, he was plagued by a new nightmare. Cobalt blue slammed into him over and over, breaking something new every time. Those golden brown hands wrapped around his throat and pinned him down, that deep voice whispering in his ear and echoing again and again, 

“Your Sparrow in the eaves has a long way to fall.”

And then Eris would shift his gaze from the soulless brown eyes above him. Up and up into the eaves of the meeting room where Aya was hidden. Blue light would wrap around her ankle and pull hard, causing her to stumble and fall. The floor would begin to crumble and give way into blackness, and the blue light would bind her wings so she couldn't fly. He would be forced to watch as she fell into the inky abyss, screaming his name until her voice disappeared into nothing. 

Then he would wake. Calm his breathing and take a drink of water. Fall asleep, and dream it all again.

If he had known then that he would not see her again until the Battle of Hybern, he would have made very different choices, indeed.

[itspileofgoodthings]

Can you share the classroom management book you shared in the tags of one of your recent posts?? About keeping the kid after class and deciding not to say anything to him

It’s called The Classroom Management Secret by Michael Linsin! It’s super short and readable, each chapter is a collection of bullet points. I’ve been flipping through it between classes/after school lately and I love the underlying principles.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Not So Single Mom (Part 2)

Okay, so it's been a while, but as someone who likes to write fics on an actual keyboard, having a finger out of action has been a bit of a pain in the ass (as well as in the digit itself).

We're still not healed, but I can just about bend it and if I press the keys lightly not wince too much at how painful it is to type.

But anyway, pity party aside, I've missed writing and I wanted to get at least one of the fics that I have open on desktop a little nearer to completion so...we have a little part 2 of the pregnant reader (the idea for which comes courtesy of a comment from @avabartlett96).

Part 1 here

“You okay, hun?” asks Melissa, her hand finding your shoulder when she finds you still in your classroom come recess. 

You shift in your chair, trying and failing to get comfortable, shrugging off her hand as you do so.  “Just…aches and pains,” you say with a wince.  At least it’s only a half lie. 

“Anything I can do?” she asks, head tilted to the side as she takes you in.

You manage a lopsided smile as you look up at her.  “You do more than enough for me.”

She steps close, cupping your face in her hands.  “Nonsense.  You think of anything, you let me know?  ‘Kay?”

You close your eyes as she presses a kiss to your forehead, fists clenching briefly as you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

*

“Girl!”

You turn at Ava’s call.  It’s nonspecific, but with your head pressed against the cold, concrete wall as you take deep breaths, fanning yourself with the pile of photocopying you had just collected, you figure you look odd enough that she might just have noticed you. 

“You got one hot woman at your beck and call,” is what she follows up with as she approaches.  “Let her help relieve some of that tension!”

“AVA!” you hiss back, immediately straightening up.  “I’m fine!”

“I know you are,” she smirks.  “So go get some!”

“But I’m-“

“Girl, I know what horny looks like and you…”

You scowl up at her, wishing you could deny it. 

*

“Help her relieve any of that tension yet?” asks Ava as she reaches for the sugar.

Melissa frowns at the question, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at the other woman.  “What?”

“Y/N,” says the Principle.

“She said it was just pregnancy aches,” replies the red head, continuing to stir her coffee. 

Ava smirks.  “Oh, she achin’ for something alright.”

*

Melissa doesn’t often dwell on many of the things that Ava says, but she dwells on this.  Spends a lot of her afternoon thinking about it.  If she’s honest, it’s a subject she’s been thinking about for a long time, but you’re both taking things at your pace.  She understands that your body is going through a lot of changes, that your feelings are mercurial at best and though she’s often wondered what it might feel like to do more than kiss you, she doesn’t want to push.  She may not exactly be known for her patience, but when it comes to you, she can always find some.

Walking to your classroom after the final bell, however, she finds Ava’s words still going round in her head.  “Hey,” she smiles from the doorway of your classroom, waiting for you to look up and return her smile before entering.  “You wanna come over tonight?” she asks.  You’d spent a few nights at home recently, and if she’s honest, she’s missed you.  “I could cook?  You could relax?”

She watches as you bite your lip, looking torn.

“Talk to me?” she asks, coming to perch on the edge of your desk. 

Your cheeks flush and you duck your head.

“Hormones?” asks Melissa, watching as you nod quickly.  “Ones that make you not want to cry?”

Again, you nod, your cheeks only becoming a deeper shade of red. 

“Ones that…”

“I’m horny all the damn time!” you hiss, missing the way Melissa’s eyes widen at your sudden admission.  “And it sucks because I don’t want the first time I have sex with you to be because I can’t control myself thanks to this little freeloader.”  Refusing to meet her eyes, you also finally admit what thus far you’ve been too scared to tell her, “And I also don’t want the first time I have sex with you to be when I’m like this…”  You gesture down at your ever-growing bump.

“By this, you mean beautiful?” offers the red head, her voice soft and warm.

You shake your head.  “I’m not beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” repeats Melissa, shifting from her perch on your desk to squat down next to you, swivelling your chair so she can look up and meet your eyes.  She reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.  “You are beautiful to me,” she tells you.  “Right now, as you are.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve pictured you between my legs, your eyes looking up at me?  I won’t even be able to see you face with this speedbump in the way.”  You watch as her eyes widen, and gasp.  “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” she nods, her voice suddenly a little shaky.  “And don’t you dare try to take it back.”  She rests her hands on your knees, using them to help her stand.  She leans back against your desk, wheeling you on your chair to sit between her legs, reaching out until she can rest her hands comfortably on your bump.  “First, this little Tesoro is very dear to me so let’s not be calling her names.  Second, I’ll wait until you’re ready, but hun, if you’re suffering, let me help.”

You whimper and she leans down to kiss you.  The contact is electric for you and without thinking, you fist your hand in her shirt.

She pulls back, surprised at the ferocity.  “You need it bad, don’t you?”

In answer, you just pull her in and kiss her again.

“Would you be happier at your place or mine?” she asks, the words whispered against your lips as you take moment to catch your breath.

“Yours is closer,” you breathe, blushing at her raised eyebrow.  “Fuck!  Sorry!  It’s not meant to sound like I’m desperate and anything will do.”  You drop your head, finding it easier to speak when you weren’t looking at her kiss bruised lips and flushed face.  The way her chest rises and falls rapidly as she catches her breath only serving to distract you further.  “I’ve been trying to…you know, take the edge off on my own.  It’s only when I think of you that I even get close.”

You feel strong, capable hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look up and meet her brilliant green eyes.  “How about you let me show you what the real live version can do?”

[bao4aohao]

chap 3 - detention

-> tsukishima's yandere arc is coming -> warnings !! - none

" WHAT? YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"

you slammed on the desk infront of you before retreating, saying a small sorry for slamming.

you stared at the principle disapproval expression as he sighed. he placed his hands together and gesture you to sit down.

" well I'm sorry ms y/n, there were many witness of the fight. it would just be a 3 hour detention and I will rule it as self defence. " he tried to compromised.

he gave you a pity look before sending you away. you closed the door behind you as you walked out of the principle room.

Detention was not a common thing for you. Back in high school, you used to be troubled kid but it changed once you saw your mother on his death bed, fighting cancer.

you felt guilty for bring so much trouble to her but all she does is comfort you like a little child. her kindness has led a change of heart inside you and you turned over a new leaf after spring break.

your grades improved, you stopped getting into fights and more people start to approach you after seeing you become a gentler person.

-

you texted shoyou about the detention news and he sent you a selfie of him eating in response. you mentally want to strangle him but you knew deep down he cared for you.

walking to the classroom that you have been told to go to. you slowly opened the door peeking inside, hoping no one is there.

" oh wow look who finally arrived "

a voice echoed from the end of the seats. you followed where the voice came from and saw tsukishima walking down.

" have a seat, detention will start now " he said, placing a paper in front of you.

you sat down on the given seat and saw some math questions. however, the more you stared you realised that this are the topics not given to first years in uni but third years.

" urm sir, I don't get why I have to do this? isn't this for third years? " you genuinely asked.

he dragged a chair nearby loudly and placed the chair in front of your desk, facing you.

he sat down and said, " that's why I will be teaching you right now. don't you always wanted to be ahead of class, hmm? " he smirked, knowing my weakness.

' shit he's right..it woulddd be good to be ahead of class.. ' you sighed. you thought for a second then smiled as you bend down to dig for your materials from your bag.

when you were ready to start, he started to teach you the basics. you were surprised with the way he was teaching, usually he would glare and have no patience towards his students. To him, patience is something you earn and not everyone can do that.

somehow, you managed to pass that step. knowing how strict and scary he was, you were scared that you might get scolded

" well you have to solve the intersection before integrating the number here. that's why your answer for C was wrong. " he calming corrected. He then analyzed the rest of you equations, focusing on the paper.

you slowly glanced at his face for a second, he was holding a concentrating expression. Brows were furrowed, lips were shut tight as his eyes travelled up and down, scanning more anymore errors.

' I would tap that ' small blush crept your cheeks.

while writing, you suddenly had a crammed in your hand causing you to drop your pen on the ground.

you quickly bent to grab the pen but the blonde was having the exact same thought as you. the two of hands conisidencely reached out for the pen, but instead touched each other.

you instantly retracted your hand while tsukishima picked up the pen and passed it back to you.

you quietly thanked him before getting back on your work.

" why do you seem so tense, y/n? " he nonchalantly asked, as if nothing had happen.

" it's nothing sir.. " you replied, not looking up.

" call me kei, y/n. Let's leave the formalities shall we? I'm not too old too you know. " he casually said.

" o-ok kei..how old are you then? you seem really young for a teacher.. " you hestitately asked.

he snapped out of his concentration and chuckled before facing you.

" why don't you find out? " he mumbled.

" what was that? " you asked.

" nothing. I'm 25 if you're curious. I'm aiming to be a professor so the head of education sent me here for training as a new teacher. They say it is to test my ability whether I could teach right or not, basically. " he explained.

we carried on with the math problems and soon, I was getting tired and bored.

-

" well, that's it for today. Good job y/n, you lasted more than what I have expected " he patted your head as you smiled in returned

he stood up dusting his pants while packing his things. we continued the conversation as I began to ask more questions. This led to hours of talking and laughter. You were glad he wasn't a creepy old guy because imagine having a small infatuation on an old man.

" so you skipped a few levels that's why you're so young for a teacher!? " you awed.

the two of you walked out of the classroom and headed out of the school.

" that's right dear, that's why you're only five years younger " he smirked, seeing how amazed you were definitely fed his ego, especially by you.

This detention wasn't that bad after-all. After this incident, he did proposed to you if you would like more after school tutoring with him for advance mathematics, which you agreed instantly.

before he left the premises, you shyly tugging his sleeves before he walked the opposite direction from you.

" um..would I be able to contact you since I need to know more about the details for our tutoring? " you gestured your phone to him, hoping he would take it.

he stared for a bit which caused you to retract your hand but he caught it on time.

" you don't have to! if you feel uncom- " you were interuppted with a short deep chuckle that vibrates down your skin, feeling the goosebumps instantly.

" I was just teasing you y/n "

he took you phone and tap on the keys before returning it back to you.

" you better get home, it's quite late already. " he said, checking the time on his watch.

you stared at the glommy sky which indicates it would going to rain soon. you bowed and thanked him.

his arm suddenly grabbed you from the side, pulling you close hitting chest.

" huh- " you were confused and shocked by the sudden movement. but before you could react, a few crows zoomed pass almost attacking your face if it weren't for tsukishima, or you can say kei.

" jeez y/n you really need to watch out for the crows.. "

you thanked him profusely before running away in embarrassment.

" .. since they hunt previous doves like you " he finished. he creepily smiled thinking to himself.

he slowly walked the other direction into the darkness of the night.

-

you settled down on the bed after a long day in school. you already changed into your pjs and done your skincare.

however a suddenly thought came into your mind.

' how did he know my age? ' you wondered for awhile. you didn't mention your age or anything personal.

you shrugged at the thought thinking you were just overthinking it.

...or were you?

prev | next | main pg

NOTES

It's coming soon guys..calm before the storm hehe but how did know your age?

© all works are done by @ bao4aohao do not copy/rewrite/steal thank you.

[janeykath318]

Mr. April (Jim Kirk x Fem! Reader)

“Can you smell something burning? Cause those hunks are smoking hot!!” 

Your roommate Sara feigned fanning herself as the two of you examined the fire department’s fundraising calendar, filled with pictures of attractive men in various stages of half-dress. She’d picked up a couple copies and insisted on giving you one, despite your protests. 

Having seen the pictures, however, you were inclined to agree with her, especially because of the gorgeous person in the picture for April. He was certainly fit, bare chest on full display, and had unusually bright blue eyes and just a touch of a smirk on his handsome face. 

You swallowed hard. 

“See what I mean?” Sara smirked. “Go ahead. Take one. You’ll get no judgments here. Get a load of the hot brunette on September. He’s MY dream man.”

You huffed, but accepted the offered calendar and plopped it in your top dresser drawer for later. You had lessons to prepare for your group of second graders and knew if you opened that thing now, you’d probably never get them done. With a sigh, you started prepping, hoping tomorrow wouldn’t be chaotic for once.

Of course, you’d completely managed to forget the yearly fire safety visit just so happened to be tomorrow, so when the principle reminded you, you had to scramble to rearrange the order of events.   The kids were very excited and had a tough time concentrating on their lessons and your mind wandered briefly as well, wondering if any of the hunks from the calendar would be coming. 

You were just finishing up the spelling lesson when the knock came at the door and principle Archer brought in two firefighters in full gear.

There were gasps and excited whisperings from the kids when they recognized the visitors. You were prepared for their enthusiasm, but you weren’t prepared for the electric shock you felt when a gorgeous pair of eyes looked into yours. Where had you seen eyes that pretty before? 

Oh, right: Mr. April. What were the odds? You stifled a groan and plastered on a bright smile as the men approached you. 

“Y/N, this is Jim Kirk and Spock, two of San Francisco’s finest,” the principal introduced. “They’ve graciously agreed to talk to the class about fire safety and their jobs today.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/N,” Blue Eyes said. “Thank you for having us.” 

“Thank you for coming,” you managed to get out through your suddenly dry throat. Kirk was even more stunningly gorgeous in person and You wondered if he was the type who knew it all too well. 

Nevertheless, he was great with his presentation and had the children very interested as he and Mr. Spock demonstrated fire safety and prevention. 

At one point, he locked eyes with you and smiled, causing your cheeks to heat and heart to skip.

“Stop acting like a teenager!” You mentally scolded yourself. “You’re better than this.” 

Or maybe not. 

They stayed around to take questions from the kids, many of whom were very eager to ply their heroes with their thoughts. You were even more charmed by the way Jim Kirk playfully interacted with the kids and answered all their questions as thoroughly as he could. 

All too soon, it was time for them to go and the good-byes and requests for return visits were plentiful. You thanked the firemen profusely as they prepared to leave. Mr. Spock was a man of few words, but Jim shook your hand and complimented you on your well-run classroom.

Oooh. That smile. This man was a menace, you thought, doing your best to hide the attraction you were feeling. 

“Have a good day and stay safe, Ms. Y/L/N,” Jim said on his way out the door.

“The same to you, Mr. Apr—I mean, Mr. Kirk.” Your face turned beet red as you realized what you’d said, but the door had already closed behind him and you had to take a few deep breaths to collect yourself before you turned back to the kids. 

After work, you confessed the whole episode to Sara, who was tactful enough to not laugh at your faux pax. 

“How did he react?” she asked. “I hope he at least wasn’t a jerk about it.”

“I don’t know, because I didn’t look at him again,” you admitted. “They were pretty much out the door at that point, thank goodness. I hope I never see him again.”

“Aww, you don’t mean that,” Sara soothed. “He might not have even noticed. But tell me, was Mr. September with him? And did you get his autograph?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her eagerness. 

“Sadly, no. The other one was named Mr. Spock. He had a bowl cut and was a little stiff.”

“Hmmmm, that sounds like Mr. January. He had impressive chest hair if I remember right.” 

Sara ran off to consult the calendar again and you took refuge in your room, trying your best to banish your embarrassing moment and Jim’s stupidly gorgeous smile from your mind. 

Jim told his buddy Leonard “Bones” McCoy about the school visit and how he wished he could have managed to get your number.

“Got a crush, kid?” Bones replied amusedly as he checked his medical supply inventory in the ambulance. 

“Yeah,” Jim admitted. “And I think she does, too, given the way she was looking at me and accidentally called me Mr. April. It was too cute.”

“Those damned fool calendars,” Bones muttered, “Some of us don’t enjoy being hit on left, right, and center.” 

“It made a boatload of money, though,” Jim reminded him. “And I can’t blame them. Your photo was very sexy.”

“Shut up, Jim.” Bones growled, disappearing into the ambulance again. “I’ll be sure to send all my admirers your way.”

Jim hadn’t expected to see you again, but he did when he was called to the scene of a bad accident a few weeks later and had to cut the driver out of their mangled car. Horror filled him when he recognized your bloody face.

You were concussed and woozy, but your spirits rose at the sight of those bright blue eyes.

“Hey, Mr. April, come to be my knight in shining armor?” you murmured with a loopy grin. 

“Yes, ma���am,” Jim replied, giving you a smirk and a wink as he assessed the situation, hiding his fear for you. 

“You are more than a pretty face,” you replied, wincing in pain. “It hurts.”

“What hurts?” Jim asked.

“Everything….” you moaned. “I hope the cops get that low down scum who ran the stop sign. What an asshole.”

“For sure,” he agreed. “Can you tell me your name?”

You managed to answer his quick questions and he withdrew and said something to a man in paramedic uniform. The getting-you-out process proved to be very tricky, but at last they managed it thanks to the jaws of life and the skills of the firemen. You heard Jim talking to someone named Scotty as well as Spock, but you were delirious with pain at this point. 

As you were lowered onto the stretcher, you recognized the paramedic.

“Mr. September!” you croaked.

“I prefer Leonard,” the man responded good naturedly. “But yes, I did pose for that ridiculous calendar because Jim blackmailed me.”

You giggled. “My roommate wants your autograph. She thinks you’re really, really hot.” 

One eyebrow went up and Jim chuckled in the background. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said dryly, strapping you in carefully. “Let’s get you to the hospital so you don’t bleed out on us.”

“An excellent idea,” you whispered before passing out again. 

Your injuries were not as bad as they could have been (yay, seatbelts!) but you were going to be laid up for a few weeks at last. Your roommate brought you a giant squishmallow for company and you told her how you got to see Mr. September at the scene of the accident.

She clasped her hands and sighed.

“Was he as dreamy in real life?”

“Not as dreamy as Jim, but pretty fine,” you admitted. “Please don’t stalk him.”

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” she sighed. “Who gave you those flowers? They’re stunning!”

A huge bouquet sat beside your bed. You very much appreciated its profuse colors, but couldn’t reach the tag.

“I don’t know. It’s on my bad side, so I couldn’t reach the tag.”

She quickly got up and grabbed it for you.

Y/N, 

Wishing you a speedy and complete recovery. 

They did catch the asshole who hit you, by the way.                    

                     Jim Kirk

“It’s from Mr. April,” you sighed. “I sure hope I didn’t make a fool out of myself when they were working on me. I vaguely remember flirting with him.” 

Flipping the tag over, you saw he’d written his number discreetly on the bottom. Hmmmm….. well, it appeared Jim wasn’t put off by your delirious flirting……..

“Does it say anything else?” your roommate wondered.

“Nope,” you lied shamelessly. 

Later on, once you were alone again, you picked up your phone and entered Jim’s number in, feeling very bold and daring. 

Thanks again for rescuing me, Mr. April. The flowers are gorgeous. 

You hit send before you could talk yourself out of it. 

A response came back much quicker than you could have hoped for.

You’re Welcome, Y/N. How are you doing?

Surviving on pain meds. This sucks. 

Yeah, it does. 😞  Would you be up for visitors sometime? I’m good at morale building. 

You laughed. 

I bet you are, you charmer, you. I saw how you held those kids spellbound. 

One of my few talents. 😉

I would definitely welcome visitors. Do you think you could get your buddy Leonard’s autograph for my friend, Sara. She’s crushing hard. 

Absolutely. Can I get you anything?

I’m pretty well taken care of thanks to Sara, but thanks for asking.

You’re welcome. I’ll see you soon! 

Jim ended up coming the next afternoon, bearing a very cheery smiley face balloon.

“Hi, Y/N! How’s the coolest teacher doing today?”

Your face heated a bit at his compliment.

“I don’t know about coolest, but I’m not in as much pain anymore, so I’ll take it. These ribs are gonna be a bitch to heal, though.”

Jim gave a sympathetic wince.

“Yeah. Ribs are mean like that. I’ll try not to make you laugh, but according to Bones, I’m a complete clown, so that might be a challenge.

You grinned at him. 

“Well, you’re a cute clown, at least. So tell me, Jim, how did you decide to be a firefighter?”

“That is a long and tumultuous story,” Jim said. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reminded him dryly. 

“Well, here goes then.”

And Jim proceeded to tell the story of his wild youth and rootless existence before a wise man challenged him to do better. Jim’s charisma made his recap quite engrossing and you ended up sharing some of your story as well. 

“Did you hear me accidentally call you Mr. April in front of the kids?” you asked. “I wanted to drop through the floor.”

“I did,” Jim confirmed, grinning as you facepalmed. “It made my day. I was crushing on you hard.”

“Same,” you admitted. “Thanks for not being an ass about it.” 

“Would you be interested in going to dinner sometime once you’re feeling better?” he asked, giving you an adorable hopeful look that would have melted anyone who saw it. 

“Yes, I absolutely would,” you confirmed with a smile, heart doing a happy flutter. 

Sara did get her autograph from Mr. September and eventually there were double dates. 

[codenamesazanka]

Didn't you make a post once about a new anime coming out with a goat-looking main character in a classroom setting who was basically Deku but DID fall prey to the "Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely" Rule? And he has a twin or something, I think.

[March 9]

The only thing that comes to mind with this description is Welcome to Demon School, Iruma-kun! BUT the main character isn't goat-looking, whether you're talking about the animal or being 'greatest of all time'. Neither does he falls pray to 'Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely' so far. He also does not have a twin, though there is a maybe some vestige-esque possession shenanigans.

I feel all those omissions eliminates out Iruma-kun as the manga/anime you're talking about. Sorry!

I do recommend it, though! It's very cute and funny and heartwarming, with some worldbuilding lore/issues boiling up last I read of it, which was at around Chapter ~300. (Story currently at Chapter 390). I feel that Iruma is a much better "Deku-like" character that bnha fans think Deku is - he's starts out weak and powers up steadily, is actually kind and principled, willing to go against the accepted norms of the world he lives in, admits his ignorance, wants to help. The cast is a classroom full of weirdos, and they get much more attention given to them, and Iruma forms bonds with each of them that are fun and unique. The villains, meanwhile, isn't as intriguing to me as the League, but they are still interesting and not just powers-fighting threatening.

Please take a look! Anime is releasing its fourth season this year too.

Thanks for the ask! Sorry it's so delayed. If you did managed to find the anime you were looking for, do let me know! I'm curious.