#i feel like a teacher putting together her curriculum for the term

[luminiera-merge]

grrr unsure of what material to cover for my terror camp mini

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 2 -

- Ao3 link -

“If you want A-Jue at this time of day, he’ll be at the training field,” Lao Nie said, standing up and immediately striding off in that direction. “Oh, and Qiren, I will warn you – he has his mother’s height.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes as he followed behind. “That’s helpful information,” he remarked. “Right up until you recall that I have never had the pleasure of meeting his mother –”

He stopped talking and stared.

“I didn’t think a further explanation was necessary,” Lao Nie said. He wasn’t quite at the level of sniggering into his sleeve, but he certainly had a shit-eating grin. Lao Nie was not a short man by any standard, although he was squatter, more muscular and more broad-shouldered than the tall and slender Lan sect  – and yet…

“He’s under ten,” Lan Qiren checked, and Lao Nie nodded. “You’re sure.”

“I was present at the birth myself, and have cared for him ever since. And before you ask, I may be busy with my duties as sect leader, but I still feel like I would have noticed someone swapping him out for a child several years older.”

Lan Qiren squinted out at the training field, where a child (and it was a child, given the amount of baby fat in his cheeks, even if the overall size was more what he’d expect of a teenager) was happily dismembering a training dummy with an especially fearsome-looking saber under the tolerant supervisory gaze of the training master.

“Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren finally said. “About that first wife of yours…you would tell me if she were an actual giant – or a goddess –”

Lao Nie laughed and patted him on the back. He did not answer the question.

“A-Jue! Come here!” he shouted, and Nie Mingjue – demonstrating excellent discipline – completed his strike before turning around and trotting over to his father. “Say hello to Teacher Lan.”

“Teacher Lan,” Nie Mingjue said obediently, saluting properly like every small child introduced to a stranger, and then looked up. A smile suddenly spread over his face. “Oh, Teacher Lan! Fighting without permission is prohibited!”

Lan Qiren choked and Lao Nie burst out laughing.

“That was seven years ago,” Lan Qiren protested, and Lao Nie only howled more. “You were an infant. How do you even remember that?”

“It was interesting!” Nie Mingjue beamed. “You said that every word in the rule is like a principle – even if you have the rule, you have to agree on what it means. What counts as fighting, what counts as permission, what counts as prohibited…I use it lots!”

“He has a good memory,” Lao Nie said, wiping his eyes. “You should hear how many profanities he’s learned.”

“I would rather not,” Lan Qiren said hastily, because Nie Mingjue looked on the verge of volunteering to recite them. “Nie Mingjue, can you show me around?”

“Of course, Teacher Lan! Let me just put Baxia away first; I’m not allowed to carry her outside the training field yet. Unless there’s an accident, of course.”

Lan Qiren did not ask. As a sect leader who did not share a border with Qishan Wen, he didn’t think he had the right.

“Take your time,” he said, putting his hands behind his back and watching as Nie Mingjue ran away.

“Would it help to have me there?” Lao Nie asked, and nodded when Lan Qiren shook his head. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Lan Qiren did not put forward any requests, curious to see where Nie Mingjue would take him, and was reluctantly charmed by the fact that their first destination was the nursery, where several pudgy toddlers of indeterminable age were sleeping.

“My baby brother,” Nie Mingjue explained, very seriously, inadvertently driving home that the fact that he was as tall as Lan Qiren’s elbow didn’t make him any older than he was. “He’s little.”

Lan Qiren couldn’t even tell which one of the indiscriminate toddlers wrapped in blankets was meant to be Nie Huaisang, but he nodded, and Nie Mingjue led him onwards, initially mostly silent with belated shyness but eventually coaxed into chattering.

In the evening, he returned to Lao Nie’s study.

“Well?” Lao Nie asked, face creased into the scowl he had on more often than not, despite being widely considered one of the more even-tempered Nie. “What do you think?”

“I think your son is a bright and enthusiastic boy,” Lan Qiren said. “With a remarkable sense of justice and morality that will serve him well, although maybe not so much in terms of politics. He’s very…straightforward.”

“Yes, well, I’m still holding out hope on A-Sang for the tact,” Lao Nie said. “That wasn’t my question and you know it.”

Lan Qiren tried to collect his thoughts. “I don’t think you’ve damaged him for life,” he finally said, and Lao Nie’s shoulders relaxed in a sudden exhalation of what was probably months of increasing stress. “I do think he would benefit from understanding a little bit more about what’s happening to him.”

“But he’s so young.”

“I know. Normally, I wouldn’t introduce the subject of his own mortality at this level of complexity this early – although I assume it’s hard for him to miss the concept entirely, given the political situation –” Lao Nie winced in acknowledgment. “– but I don’t think you have much of a choice. You’re not the only one who noticed the saber spirit.”

Lao Nie frowned, then understood, and frowned even deeper. “He’s noticed it?”

“I got him talking on the subject of his saber,” Lan Qiren said. “He regards it in the same manner as other children his age would an imaginary friend. It’s female, apparently.”

Based on the description, Baxia also had what he would, in one of his students, term a personality. He supposed it was possible that Nie Mingjue was just projecting the parts of himself that weren’t quite fit for company, since surely no one could be that earnest, and yet, based on what Lao Nie had told him…

Lao Nie groaned and put his hand to his head. “Jiwei didn’t develop a sense of gender for years,” he grumbled, and Lan Qiren was moderately certain that he hadn’t intended to admit that out loud. “This is ridiculous. I want him to live a good life, Qiren. A long one, insofar as that’s possible for our sect.”

“I’ll try to do some research,” Lan Qiren said. “In the meantime, could he be convinced to cultivate something else in addition to a saber? Music, perhaps?”

“You’re welcome to try. He’s practically tone-deaf.”

“Perhaps arrays, then, or talismans,” Lan Qiren said. “It would do him some good to find another thing to pour all that energy of his into.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lao Nie allowed. “And I appreciate any research you’re able to do, though of course there are limitations on your time – and what we can allow to be taken out of the Unclean Realm.”

Lan Qiren waved a hand. “It’s nothing. I enjoy keeping busy, and the subject is fascinating. Have you considered that regular visits by me might draw attention?”

Attention from within their sects they could handle, but they were both sect leaders – or acting sect leader, in Lan Qiren’s case – and their actions could never truly be wholly their own.

“I have a plan for that,” Lao Nie said. “It’ll work better if you don’t know about it, though.”

Lan Qiren hated plans like that.

“Very well,” he said, aware that he sounded like he was sulking. “If you must.”

“Could I send him to you next year?” Lao Nie asked, and Lan Qiren forgot his grumpiness to gape at him. “I wouldn’t impose this year, naturally, since you must already have a curriculum planned. But next year…”

“If you send him, that will be making a statement,” Lan Qiren said.

A statement about what, exactly, he did not know, but there was a major difference between being the sort of teacher that was respected enough to teach the sect heirs of some small, out-of-the-way sects and being entrusted with the childhood education of the heir to a Great Sect. Even if Nie Mingjue learned nothing, which seemed unlikely given his earnest performance from earlier, the other small sects would immediately want to follow suit, as if to rub off some of the same luck for themselves – he would be flooded with applicants.

His sect elders were going to hate it.

Although it wasn’t exactly against any of the rules…

“That’s why I’m asking your permission.” Lao Nie grinned at him, his teeth flashing white under his nearly trimmed beard. “Also, while you’re our guest here – you did plan to stay at least a week or two, right? Good, good. I will insist upon you joining me for some night-hunts.”

“Lao Nie…”

“I’ve explained to you how my sect cultivates our sabers. Are you really saying that you can judge that without seeing it happening?”

“You know perfectly well that I’m a weak fighter,” Lan Qiren said, even though that was a very good point, and one he probably would have insisted on himself sooner or later. “I don’t want to slow you down.”

“You never have,” Lao Nie said right to his face – the Nie sect did not discourage all lying, the scoundrels. “I’m serious! You’re not the fastest, no, but you’re perceptive, analytical, and creative. The insights I gain from hunting by your side are long-term gains, making me faster and more efficient in the future.”

“You’re flattering me,” Lan Qiren said suspiciously.

“I am not. The first time we went on a night-hunt together, you stopped by the river to rest and told me about how the flowers growing there were unique because they absorbed spiritual energy but not resentful energy on account of being too close to flowing water; three years later, I used that fact to find a gigantic nest of ghosts and demonic creatures that were using it as camouflage. They’d killed nearly a dozen villagers by that point and no one else could find them, but I did.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears heating up. “…that’s a coincidence.”

“Do you really want me to start naming other examples?”

“I would rather you showed me your library,” Lan Qiren said. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. He was probably blushing. No one else ever teased him the way Lao Nie did, except maybe Cangse Sanren. He was suddenly hit by a nostalgic desire to see her again. “At once, if you please. And also…”

He trailed off.

“Why the hesitation?” Lao Nie asked. “Do you really think there’s anything I would deny you, as long as you find a way to help my son?”

Lan Qiren cleared his throat. “It would be helpful if I could examine a more mature saber spirit that has already bonded to a human master. Your Jiwei, for instance.”

As he expected, Lao Nie scowled at the suggestion of someone else examining his spiritual weapon – and his saber spirit, no less – but after a few moments he collected himself and nodded, albeit begrudgingly. “I’ll leave her with you,” he said. “Be careful when you examine her – she doesn’t like to be touched by anyone but me.”

Lao Nie’s warning turned out to be both true, untrue, and an understatement of frankly shocking proportions.

During the course of Lan Qiren’s investigations into the subject of the Nie sect sabers over the next few months, and thereafter, he determined that the best, if not only, way to deal with Jiwei was to act as though he were handling a particularly vicious and single-minded dog.

Jiwei, it seemed, liked to bite.

If one treated her like a normal saber – an inert piece of metal – she would appear completely quiescent right up until there would be an abrupt and inexplicable accident, clattering off the table with the blade curving straight at clothing and flesh, and only very quick reflexes could prevent disaster. If one attempted to utilize spiritual energy with her, it would be even worse: she would pull as much as she could and feed back nothing, spiteful and ruthless.

A vicious creature, too quick to judge, loyal only to her master, who she loved.

A bit like Lao Nie, in fact. Lan Qiren did not delude himself into mistaking Lao Nie’s passion for righteousness – Nie Mingjue was righteous, a serious child that was always wondering what was right, while Lao Nie was more inclined towards brutal, even callous, practicality that focused on what benefited him and his sect. He would do good, of course, but he could not be forced into it; he had his pride, his temper, and sometimes he erred too much in favor of those over even common sense.

But despite all his rough edges, he did truly love his friends.

He dragged Lan Qiren all over Qinghe whenever he visited, on night-hunts and to resolve minor conflicts, the sort of thing any normal traveling cultivator might do; he showed him the small towns and the hidden cities that Lan Qiren would not have seen on any normal visit, and asked him to play songs for his little family. Nie Huaisang was enraptured by the music, Nie Mingjue largely indifferent – Lao Nie had not been wrong to call him practically tone-deaf – and Lao Nie beaming all the while, even if Lan Qiren suspected that his eldest son’s lack of musical appreciation had largely come from him.

He even, after a stray comment, managed to track down Cangse Sanren, who brought her husband and son to the Unclean Realm and left them in Nie Mingjue’s earnest care while she sat with the two of them, drinking liquor as if it were water to the point that even Lao Nie refused to compete with her – when his protests were eventually overridden, Lan Qiren (who drank tea, of course) was roped in to be their long-suffering judge.

It was a good night.

“Is that another thing I took from you?” He Kexin unexpectedly asked Lan Qiren a week after Lao Nie had publicly announced that he would be sending Nie Mingjue to the Cloud Recesses for Lan Qiren’s classes. The ensuing hubbub, as Lan Qiren expected, had been enormous, and he’d braced himself to discuss nothing else for months, although he hadn’t really expected her to mention it.

The Cloud Recesses separated men and women, and He Kexin had borne two sons; they were old enough by now to live primarily with the men rather than the women, and so they had entered Lan Qiren’s care. He brought them to visit her once a month, and came himself like clockwork every two weeks in between to update her as to their progress, his eyes fixed firmly above her head as he narrated the report as if he were a junior returning from a night-hunt. It was not her fault that his brother had fallen in love with her and ruined Lan Qiren’s life, but it had been her decision to murder a man that had served as the trigger for the situation; Lan Qiren was meticulous about his duty to her as his sister-in-law, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Or her.

By this point, she was moderately good at respecting that. In the beginning, she’d cursed him viciously every time he came to see her, especially after he’d provided her with definitive proof of her former friend’s lies and machinations. Later, she’d tried flirting with him out of what he could only assume was boredom or perhaps a willful misunderstanding as to why he still visited, assuming that he had perfidious motivations or shared his brother’s taste in women instead of suffering from an overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his brother’s misdeeds. It had taken him several months and, eventually, an explicit offer to even notice, and he’d nearly broken his neck fleeing from the scene.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said, still looking above her head instead of at her face. He Kexin had A-Huan’s smile and A-Zhan’s eyes, he knew that, but if he could scrub all of her other features from his mind, he would.

“Sect Leader Nie,” she said, and it was so odd to hear someone refer to Lao Nie by his formal title outside of a political situation or deliberate insult – even Wen Ruohan habitually called him Lao Nie by now, and as far as Lan Qiren could tell, they despised each other – that Lan Qiren’s eyes actually dropped to meet hers. “If you weren’t sect leader, you could’ve married him.”

Lan Qiren choked on air. “Do you think of nothing but sex all day?” he spat out, his cheeks going red. “We are friends.”

“I don’t have much else to think of,” He Kexin said, and he glared as if to communicate whose fault is that and maybe in your next life you won’t solve your problems with murder. “I heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with him, and now he’s sending his son to your care. It’s suggestive.”

“Talking behind the backs of others is forbidden,” Lan Qiren reminded her, and she shrugged. “Do I need to discipline your servants?”

“It’s news, not gossip,” she said. “And no, these ones are fine. No one’s playing any tricks.”

There had been an incident early on, where a few of the servants assigned to care for He Kexin had mistaken her confinement for abandonment; they had not expected Lan Qiren to grimly continue visiting as he would have done if she had been his sister-in-law in the normal course of things, nor to listen when she complained. He had of course taken all necessary measures to have the offenders harshly disciplined and expelled, replaced with servants of good character and sufficient intelligence to keep her company without seeking to take advantage, and there had been no new incidents since.

Her punishment was confinement, not torment. No matter what Lan Qiren felt about her, she would receive exactly that – neither more nor less.

“Is it Cangse Sanren, then?” she asked, propping her head up on her chin. “You fell in love with her, and then she married another man…”

“Sometimes people are just friends,” he said, irritated. “Why must I be in love with anyone?”

He Kexin shrugged. “Don’t you want to marry, one day? Have children of your own, rather than always reporting back to me on mine?”

“I’m acting sect leader,” Lan Qiren said tightly. “A marriage, much less children, would give rise to accusations that I was seeking to usurp my brother’s place or my nephews’ inheritance.”

“So it is another thing I’ve done,” she said, looking down at her hands. They were clenched tightly into fists, her knuckles white; sometimes Lan Qiren thought she wanted to punch him as a means of venting her feelings, and sometimes he didn’t even blame her for it. “I had only been thinking about it in the sense that you couldn’t leave, but you can’t even bring anyone back.”

“I don’t especially want to, anyway,” he said, because it was true. Even if she was right, that even his right to marry freely had been taken from him, it didn’t mean that she had the right to use it as a whip on her own back. If Lan Qiren couldn’t bring himself to obey the rule about not holding grudges, he could at least follow the ones about being generous and easy on others. “I haven’t found the right person.”

“And it’s really not Lao Nie?” He Kexin asked. “You go to visit him often, and for longer periods, than you go anywhere else, and A-Huan says you look happy whenever you’re going to go.”

Lan Qiren shrugged. He was happy to go. He enjoyed Lao Nie’s company, and the research, even when Lao Nie was too busy for him personally, and Lao Nie’s role as an allied sect leader meant that Lan Qiren had more latitude in arranging such visits than he did to other places.

“…A-Zhan says that your hands are white when you return.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes dropped to his arms, where there was in fact some white peeking out from beneath his sleeves – white bandages on his left wrist and the two smallest fingers on his right hand, this time, from the latest incident in which Jiwei had tried to slash him, but it was barely a nick in comparison with previous instances; he thought that it was a sign that they might be getting somewhere.

A moment later, he realized the implications of her statement and glared at her. “You’re not seriously asking if Lao Nie is abusing me? Weren’t you asking about my marriage prospects with him only a moment ago?”

“The two are not mutually exclusive,” she said dryly. “And the Nie temper is well known.”

“It’s from research,” Lan Qiren said. “I dropped a saber and I knocked over the table on to my other hand when trying to dodge.”

“I believe you,” she said, lips twitching. “If only because you would’ve come up with a more dignified excuse if it was a lie.”

“I don’t actually have to explain myself to you,” he said, reminding himself as much as her. “Is there anything else you want to know about your sons?”

“No,” she said. “But I’d like my husband to visit me again, if you can arrange it.”

He nodded stiffly.

“You know,” she said, playing idly with her sleeves. “If you never marry, I’ll be the closest thing you ever have to a wife? You manage my house, you raise my children, and you even provide me with services in bed, albeit indirectly.”

Do not succumb to rage, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and left without another word.

(Later, when Cangse Sanren next visited the Cloud Recesses, her husband taking A-Huan on a ride on their donkey with A-Zhan and A-Ying tucked into the saddlebags, she listened to him stammer through the whole humiliating story and gnashed her teeth on his behalf. “Don’t listen to her,” she told him. “By that standard, the rabbits she likes to raise are her concubines.”)

His simmering anger made his next session with Jiwei flow more easily, almost as if the saber spirit empathized with his rage – or perhaps it was simply that she found it more familiar, more reminiscent of the temper of her true master, and therefore less objectionable. He was attempting to draw out some part of her anger through music and store it into a jade pendant: his theory was that the eventual qi deviations of the Nie sect leaders resulted from a lack of balance with the resentful energy utilized by the saber spirit – the negative emotions streaming in through the saber, strengthening it, but having no means of cleansing beyond outbursts of temper.

It had been the way Nie Mingjue spoke of his saber spirit as if she were his friend that had given him the idea. Many in the Nie sect treated their sabers with both reverence and fear, as if the spirits were vicious creatures they had only temporarily tamed and which would one day turn upon them, but Jiwei was passionately loyal to Lao Nie, and Baxia to Nie Mingjue. Perhaps it was his inheritance as a Lan showing, or merely his own experience with his brother, but Lan Qiren simply could not understand how anything that loved so unstintingly, so unreservedly, could ever bring themself to intentionally bring about their beloved one’s destruction.

Even a dog would refuse to bite a master it loved unless it had gone mad.

Therefore, he concluded, it was not merely the human wielder but the saber itself that deviated in their cultivation. Lao Nie had once said in an aside that it was unclear what came first, the Nie sect tempers or the saber spirit-incited outbursts, and although he had meant it as a joke, Lan Qiren thought there was some merit to the question. Rage served a valuable purpose for humans, acting as a warning sign that something was wrong, that something was unacceptable, rejection and protection all at once, but rage that could not be excised would turn rancid and sour, like a poisoned wound. Sabers were cultivated by their masters and resembled them – they were filled with human rage, intensified by their cultivation of resentful energy, but unlike a human they could not shout or hit something or vent in any way other than through hunting.

No wonder Jiwei was so content after a night-hunt; no wonder Nie sect cultivators got irritable when they hadn’t had time to cultivate their sabers or fight evil or just get out and do something. But with limited venting opportunities (humans could not fight evil all the time), the sabers would fall into obsession, infected by the very same resentful energy that they excised when they hunted – their bloodlust simultaneously sated and inflamed – and as their power grew, and their true opponents grew fewer, they would become insatiable and, eventually, unbalanced. Demonic cultivation was abhorred by the cultivation world because it opened the door to obsession and fixation, and the most common way that demonic cultivators died, if not executed by the world, was through a backlash of their own power. Obsession was by its nature rigid, and that was the sole weakness of the saber: they had to be rigid, but never too rigid, or else they would become brittle, would break.

Deviation.

It was a very interesting theory, even if Lao Nie’s eyes glazed over whenever Lan Qiren tried to explain. Lan Qiren didn’t take offense: Lao Nie had always been an exceptionally practical man, more interested in results than theories, actions rather than thoughts.

“Aren’t you disappointed?” Lan Qiren asked him at one point, abrupt as he always seemed to be about such things. “That I haven’t gotten anywhere?”

Lao Nie looked surprised. “What do you mean? You have a valid theory, you’ve tried all sorts of things.”

“I haven’t succeeded.”

Lao Nie laughed. “My friend, this is a problem that has stymied my sect for generations. Did you really think you’d be able to solve it in three weeks?”

Lan Qiren scowled. “It’s been closer to three years.”

“You’ve made progress,” Lao Nie said confidently. “A-Jue has as solid a foundation as I could hope for, and all those conversations you have with him about the nature of ethics and morality have had an excellent effect on his saber.”

“Has it?” Lan Qiren asked, skeptical. Even the Nie sect experts agreed that Baxia was unusually vicious for a saber, powerful enough to frighten wild yao simply with her presence – Nie Mingjue’s cultivation remained shockingly fast, and even Lan Qiren, who had only a few years understanding of the saber spirits, could recognize the effects of it.

“It has,” Lao Nie said firmly. “He doesn’t fear her, and she loves him all the more for it, backs him like none other; no other saber of his generation will so much as waver out of line with Baxia behind them. As for the rest…ah, Qiren, if you can figure out a way to stymie the saber spirit even a little – give him even another decade – I’ll be satisfied. Don’t worry about it.”

Lan Qiren huffed and returned to trying to transfer spiritual energy from Jiwei to the pendant.

“Besides, all this time spent on the project has had at least one good effect,” Lao Nie added, putting his hand on Lan Qiren’s shoulder as he played. “I get the pleasure of your company.”

Lan Qiren’s attention was fixed on his playing, but the hand was warm on his shoulder. “That hardly seems so much of a benefit,” he said absently.

“You underestimate yourself. Do you know, outside of my sect, I think you’re my best friend?”

Only years of training allowed Lan Qiren’s fingers to continue to move smoothly over the guqin strings when his heart seized in his chest, warm and hot and squished and painful and pleasurable at the same time.

He did not allow himself to ask “Really?” like a small child, insecure and uncertain, did not permit himself to say “even above my brother”, did not say anything at all.

“Thank you,” he finally said, stiff and wooden. “I…you as well.”

[lifewithlala]

Useful and practical advice for everyone starting college

So... Yes, I graduated! To celebrate this, I thought it would be a good idea to pass on some knowledge to those new students starting college this year (I feel like a Senpai). If it was difficult for me, I cannot fathom how much difficult it's going to be for you guys starting this year with all the things happening around the world. So good luck and I hope this really helps you out!

Try to get along with everyone. Look, prior to entering college I was asocial AF. It's not that I was shy, I just didn't like hanging out with people. However, my time in college taught me that interaction IS a very important part of life. I will be forever thankful to my classmates, who approached me on my first day (I entered college mid-year with no experience in business or economics. I was completely clueless). They were very nice to me and tried their best to explained how the school works, what classes we will be taking, what the professors and exams are like and such. Without their help, I would have had a harder time trying to get used to college. Truth is, you WILL need help at several points in college. And if you're not on good terms with anyone, who will be willing to help you? No one. So don't be a jerk and try your best to be nice and genuine with everyone in the class.

Help your classmates. Just as you will need help, your classmates will also need help. Don't wait for them to ask you for help. Offer to help them if you can! This can help you make friends or find new study buddies. Do not underestimate the power of helping others. When you help people with something, it is very likely that they will help you back when you need to. They might even recommend you for a job or internship position just because you helped them.

Find one or two study buddies. Study buddies will make studying more bearable. The study material that you will get in college is nothing compared to high school. So having a few study buddies that can help you make summaries, explain and work together on assignments will make studying much easier! I remember I had a study buddy for one of my minors in which we had to learn 16 chapters. We divided the summary workload and took turns explaining the chapters we each summarized. We literally cut the study time in half because of this!

Keep in contact with your classmates and professors. Chances are you will be separated for some time during minors, study abroad programs or internships. But that doesn't mean you have to lose contact with them. I'm not saying you have to chat with them every day. But contacting them once in awhile is good. I have been able to help some of my classmates with some subjects and applications. I have also become one of my professor's running buddies. So keep in touch because you never know what good you can give and what good it might bring you!

Be persistent. I have had instances were my school coach has ghosted me AND the school completely. Putting my internship and thesis at risk. Shit happens. And when you see things taking a turn for the ugly, fight back with all you got to get things back on track. The truth is, college is a business. And it will continue with or without you. A bit toxic, yes. However, it is up to you to not let things go south! Take action. Contact your professor when needed. Contact the administration. Contact management. Be persistent!

Plan as soon as possible. Don't wait for the first class to get your curriculum and then plan a week later. Download the curriculum BEFORE going to that first class. Plan BEFORE  going to the class. Bombard your professor with questions regarding the curriculum on the first day. Make changes accordingly. Execute that plan ASAP. Your worst enemy is time. But your best friend is also time. The sooner you start, the more prepared you will be for your exams. Read more about how I plan here.

Don't say "yes" to everything. Yes, I am guilty of this one. I learn fast. I'm young. I have lots of energy. I can do whatever I put my mind to. WRONG. This kind of thinking led me to severe burnout. I was helping my parents in their business. I was doing a full-time internship. I started my own business and had 9 clients. I was training for a marathon. Shit went down horribly at some point. I'm glad I went through that burnout because it taught me the importance and necessity to be balanced in life. And that my ability to say no is sometimes more important than my ability to say yes.

College is more than just learning theory. Look, classes are not the thing you should focus on solely in college. If there's anything more important than classes, I would say is your ability to network and leverage this to get experience in the field. That is what college is about. College opens so many opportunities, not because of what they teach, but because of the resources that you are able to get. I'm not saying go slack on your classes, but keep in mind that a lot of times, people don't hire because you have a perfect GPA.

Have a plan to be smart with your money AND stick with it. I had a plan to be smart with my money. And I did so for 3 years. But in my fourth year... I fucked up. Guys... stick to your financial plan and avoid goddamn headaches. Learn about budgeting,

Do not pull all-nighters. If anything all-nighters made me perform worse. Also, they completely messed up my sleeping schedule, which in return messed up my entire schedule. As a result, I would stress out because I was behind schedule and I did not have the energy to catch up. Guys, do not underestimate the power of a good night's sleep.

Time batching will be your best friend. Having a set day to do similar tasks is honestly, one of the best ways to work. One day I would do all my homework for the week. The other day I would only study. One day I would do all of my house chores etc. It's much simpler and effective this way.

Having a study routine will actually help you to pull a miracle. A lot of people swear by a morning or night routine. I swear by a study/ work routine. For real... why aren't work routines more common? Once I start my routine, my brain knows its time to work and study and will not get distracted. You can read about my study routine more in detail here.

You will get fat pretty fast, so exercise. You will not have a lot of time on your hands. You no longer have breaks to play sports, you don't need to go to gym class, you probably have a car now. Your sedentary life will pretty much begin in college. And because you have the money you will start eating out or order takeout. So EAT WELL AND WORKOUT. I realized that the weeks I ate healthily, were also the weeks I was more energized. So do these 2 things religiously.

Don't be too uptight. Relax and have fun. If you're the type A, teacher's pet kind of student... don't be afraid to loosen up a little bit. After my burnout episode I understood the importance of having fun once in awhile. Turns out that going to parties, clubs, having girls night out is a fun experience and you'll look back at those memories with fond!

Start applying for internships as soon as possible. THIS. Honestly. Apply early. Finding an internship position isn't hard. But finding the right internship place that will allow you to grow and learn and at the same time get along with the culture is MUCH MUCH MUCH harder! So take your time finding an internship. Go to as many interviews as you can. Don't accept the first internship position because it's the first you got. Look at it objectively and talk to others that work in that company. I had the opportunity to work for 2 days under the guidance of another intern before saying yes. Ask for a similar opportunity so you can test the waters before accepting the internship offer.

Taking care of yourself is harder than you think. Develop a routines. Stick to those routines. Develop a personal hygiene routine. A workout routine. Eat healthy. These things are easier said than done. Constantly work on these things. If you let one fall, others will start falling too. Self care is a work in progress so never stop improving yourself no matter how many deadlines you have!

Older students are a godsend. If you want to hear a goddamn unbiased opinion, please refer to an older student. The administration or professor might tell you a process or application goes a certain way, but the older students that went through it, know better as they literally had to go through it. The advice they will give you will be more practical than the advice the professors can give you. So listen to them carefully. They will also be able to help you with tips for exams, summaries or explaining. So be friends with them too!

Get a mentor. I was lucky enough to find 2 excellent mentors in my college journey. I became good friends with one of my professors, and she was the one that taught me all I know about personal investing. Honestly, she was the real MVP. Amazing professor, explanations were top notch, and really enjoyed her work. The second one, was my thesis coach. She helped me built my business and her expertise in the field helped me a lot in starting up. Don't be afraid to ask your professors or experts in the field to help you get started! Sometimes, they are eager to pass what they know unto someone. You got nothing to lose!

[cycat4077]

Lessons

Summary: You have a little heart-to-heart with a student you're tutoring. Sonny may or may not be eavesdropping. (Set Summer 2016) Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: Basically just fluff! Words: 1808 AO3: here

Part 10 of the Changes verse - but it can be read as a one-shot too.

A/N: If this is your first time seeing this series, the reader is a teacher but is in between jobs. Money is tight, you and Sonny are coming out of a big fight and now the squad officially knows about yours and Sonny's relationship. This is just a little fluff filler fic to move things along :)

"The Lean Bean". It's the logo embroidered on the pocket of the uniform you're folding. It's also the place where you've been taking shifts as a way to offset some living costs. The new school year, and a dependable paycheck, is still well over a month away. Sonny had told you not to worry about finding extra work, but the idea of living together without paying for anything didn't sit right with you - especially in such an expensive city.

Reaching into the laundry basket, you pull out a pair of dryer-warmed socks and routinely fold them in two. A clunk at the front door makes you gaze over your shoulder from your spot on the couch. Finally, Sonny is home. You greet each other affectionately, Sonny placing a kiss to your forehead.

"How was your day?" you ask, grabbing another pair of socks to fold.

"Long," he replies but you can tell from his voice that there's something more. You look at him expectantly, offering a gentle smile.

"I, uh," he hesitates, moving around the couch to take a seat. "I spoke to the squad about us today."

Sonny's eyes are apologetic; the fight of a few nights ago is still fresh in your minds. You let him know it's all right by placing a hand atop his knee.

Reassured, he continues. "They're happy for me - for us – ‘n they've noticed that I'm happier too. Actually, before I left tonight Lieu pulled me aside. She said that I have more patience with the vics ‘n that I'm more tolerant when interrogating perps. Doll, I know that I couldn't do any of that if it wasn’t for you."

"That's excellent news, Sonny!" you express, flattered by the compliment as well. "You really are a great detective."

Sonny beams for a moment before his face falls. "Also, 'n I hope you're not mad, but I took the opportunity to talk to Lieu about what happened between us…about me keepin’ you a secret from ‘em."

You feel a twinge of panic in your gut at the thought of Olivia being privy to details of your relationship troubles. That initial feeling subsides however as Sonny elaborates.

"It's just...she knows what it's like ta try ‘n balance life ‘n this job, and - "

But you cut him off before he can finish his sentence. "You don't have to explain, Sonny," you empathize. "It's good to talk things out with someone who understands."

Sonny's warm hand finds yours and he interlace your fingers. "Yeah," he agrees. "She was really sympathetic about it, too. She told me it's normal to feel scared but that it is better to be honest." His mouth curves into a lopsided grin. "Typical Lieu," he shakes his head. "Oh, ‘n I kinda told her about our situation ‘n how you were outta work until the fall - Again, I shoulda asked ya before I went there, but she was really supportive of us. In fact, she gave me the numba of a mom at Noah's daycare who's lookin' for a tutor for her daughter. Apparently she's headed inta middle school ‘n is really strugglin'."

It's a lot to take in but you assure Sonny that you're not upset with him. You appreciate his honesty. Relieved, Sonny wraps you in a hug and tells you again how lucky he is to have you.

As for the tutoring. Well, it's hard to say no. The extra cash will certainly help pay some of the bills that have increased since you moved in.

-x-

Madison is a pretty guarded girl. On the brink of being a teenager, she wants nothing to do with being tutored and everything to do with all else. Her mother dropped her off in a hurry, needing to shuttle her other two children to various extracurricular activities. Unfortunately, this left little time for introductions or for inquiries regarding the areas she particularly needed help in.

You try to be as welcoming as possible, asking her questions about her school work and attempting to understand her learning needs. The girl, however, couldn't be bothered. So, instead of blindly waltzing into curriculum review, you decide to have a little heart-to-heart.

"Madison," you speak, leaning back in your chair. "Do you know why you're here; why your mom asked me to tutor you?"

The girl refuses to meet your gaze. "Well, yeah,” she crosses her arms on your kitchen table. “Mom wants me to be tutored and stuff." There’s definitely attitude behind that tone.

You swallow your annoyance and choose your words wisely. "In simple terms, yes. But I think you know that it’s not for your mom's benefit. It's for you, so that you can start the year off prepared."

"Yeah, whatever,” she rolls her eyes with a huff. “No matter what, it's never gonna be enough anyway."

"Hey!" you defend gently. "Don't say that! My attitude is that if you know in your heart that you tried your very best, that's all you can do."

Madison studies you through the bangs that hover over her green eyes. For a moment you swear you can see the words getting through, but then she shrugs. "If I get good grades, mom promised to buy me a new iPhone."

How do you put a positive spin on this? How do you connect with this girl? "That's awesome!" you encourage. "You know, in college I was failing calculus." The girl raises her dark brows in shock. Maybe we're getting somewhere. "Yeah, I felt really dumb in that class and I just didn’t understand anything when it came to tests. Needless to say, I was panicking big time when finals rolled around. So, my dad made me a deal. We lived upstate and he absolutely hated the thought of driving in New York City, but he said that if I could pull off a 90% in the course, he would drive me here to see a Broadway show."

Now Madison is listening intently, curiosity etched across her young face.

"Both he and I thought it would be impossible, but low and behold, I hunkered down," you exaggerate a look of concentration and tuck your arms close to your body, "and studied my butt off! I passed with a 93!"

The girl's mouth drops open. "What show did you see?"

You smile fondly at the memory. "None," Madison shoots you a bewildered look, "but we did end up doing other fun stuff. I still like to tease my dad about it though and I guess I should be the one taking him since I live here now."

Madison's features soften and she allows a small chuckle.

"The point is," you say, trying to refocus the girl, "that you'd be surprised what you can do when you put your mind to it!"

You offer her an encouraging smile but Madison's quickly fades as she glances away. "It's...it's just really hard," she admits. "Mom's always so busy with my brother and sister which…kinda sucks sometimes."

Your eyebrows pinch together sympathetically. What can you say to her to let her know that it’s okay? Then your mind flickers to Sonny. "I know it's gonna be hard for me to relate to you on this one since I have no siblings, but my boyfriend comes from a big family. He has three sisters and he tells me that they used to fight like cats and dogs growing up." You can see Madison nod knowingly. "But you know what? Those squabbles really don't matter now. They love each other and they'd do anything for one another." A doting smile spreads across your face, "I'm actually kind of jealous of that. And with you, I bet that you must feel a lot of pressure to look out for your brother and sister, huh?" Madison shrugs sheepishly.

"That's a lot of responsibility, but at the same time, your siblings will appreciate you for it. They may not show you or tell you - they'll still be the same pains in the butt, however once you're all grown up, they will understand how much you've been there for them along the way. Whether you realize it or not, they look up to you. So, the greatest thing you can do for them is be the best version of yourself. By trying your best and working hard, they will learn to do that too - from you." You smile warmly at her and she returns the gesture.

It's not long after that Madison begins opening up. She explains what classes she has trouble with and how she feels about learning it. The information is invaluable and you take notes to plan out future sessions.

Madison's mother arrives a few minutes late to pick her up, but the girl flashes you a friendly smile as she leaves. You hope that you've given her more self-confidence and a little motivation to put forth her best efforts.

After you close the door behind them, Sonny pops around the corner and places a hand on the small of your back. He whispers softly into your ear. "You're amazin’, sweetheart." His breath causes a shiver to trickle down your spine.

"What? Why?" you question as Sonny slips his arms around the front of your waist.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, he continues. "The way you were talkin’ to Madison earlier. You've got so much compassion ‘n understandin’."

The warmth of his words radiates throughout your body. You lean your head against his, reaching up to touch the apple pendant hanging around your neck.

"Sorry for eaves droppin' but I heard my name 'n everythin' you were sayin' was just too sweet to turn away. You're definitely in the right profession. Your students are lucky to have you."

You turn around in his arms, slipping yours around his middle. "Thank you, Sonny," you murmur before placing a soft kiss to his nose. "That means a lot."

Sonny's eyes crinkle affectionately at the corners. "N' for what it's worth, you're gonna make an amazin' mom someday too. Watchin' you with her, it was all I could think about."

Your stomach somersaults. You do want kids one day and you can't imagine having them with anyone other than Sonny. "Yeah?" you smirk. "I want that for us one day too. The way you are with children melts my heart."

Sonny's features brighten. "Ya think I'd make a good dad?"

"Absolutely!" You poke his chest gently, right overtop his heart, "you got a lotta love in here, Carisi and someday our children will be the luckiest wee munchkins in the world getting to experience the love that I receive everyday."

Overwhelmed with elation, Sonny lifts you off your feet and into a giant bear hug; a silent declaration that you make him the happiest man in the world.

---

Fun facts:

- IDK if "The Lean Bean" is a real place or not, but it's a pretty accurate description of our favorite detective ;) - The story about the reader's calculus experience is a true story! Except, I'm Canadian so the drive is a little bit further :P

I hope you enjoyed this one! Thanks for reading :3

(Feedback is loved)

Part 11 here!

[twstismymuse]

Hello hello!!

First ever post!! Yay!!

This is a little piece I whipped up after getting inspired browsing through pinterest

(Yes i use pinterest they actually have pretty good stuff on there)

Anyways this scenario features my Professor oc, Kathryne Bones ☠️

She’s twisted from Captain Hook and I’ll have more on her soon!

In the meantime, enjoy my pirate queen kicking misogyny right in the dick!!

{Title: A Valuable Lesson}

{Summary: Professor Bones puts a few narrow minded students in their place through a hands on demonstration.}

{Warnings: Misogyny, degrading comments, strong language, objectification}

(Pssst, some character info has been updated here)

—————————————————————

It was supposed to be smooth sailing for her. It had only been a week since Kathryne Bones was recognized as a professor and Geography was added to the curriculum at the esteemed NRC and she couldn’t have been happier. Sure she’d had to push and shove to be able to secure the position of a professor at the college, but the college had only recently begun it’s transformation as a co-ed school and the pure fact that she got the job was a feat in itself as a respected educator. There were doubts about her “qualifications” to be a teacher, but Kathryne was determined to break through those boundaries and prove she could teach a class filled with young boys as good as any man.

Kathryne adored her students and wanted to push them to be the best they could be! Geography was an essential subject, to learn not only about the world they inhabited but the people in Twisted Wonderland as well.

She really thought she would be able to gain their respect.

For the most part, it was adorable seeing the looks on their faces when she walked into the classroom and introduced herself as their new professor.

“Welcome boys! My name is Kathryne Bones and I’ll be your Geography professor. I trust that we’ll be able to get along and you lot won’t feel too put off by me. Savvy?”

“...”

“I’m asking you all if you understand.”

“Ohhhhh…”

The first half of class went swimmingly. Many of the students asked genuinely interesting questions and gave insightful responses. They paid close attention when she pulled up a map of Twisted Wonderland and began pointing out key locations.

“As we can see, the Afterglow Savannah’s absolute location-”

“You should bend over a little more!”

Her metal finger paused and hovered over the labeled country on the map. It took her a moment to fully comprehend what had happened as the sound of snickering and cruel laughter echoed throughout the classroom.

“Or better yet, show us your tits!”

“Doesn’t this school have a dress code? A teacher shouldn’t be walking around in clothes like that, you know.”

“Showing that much skin on the job?”

“Maybe she’s some pirate whore-”

Kathryne kept her back turned toward the chalkboard, yet several students spoke up in her defense.

“Hey, assholes!! The fuck is wrong with you, she’s tryna teach us here!!” A boy with bright red hair and a heart painted on his right eye snarled at the group.

“That is no way to treat a professor, much less a lady!!” A student with slicked back hair and pointed brows barked.

Ace Trappola and Sebek Zigvolt, her brain helpfully offered.

“Come on! What was the school thinking letting a female professor teach at NRC?” One of the ruffians, a Heartslaybul ribbon around his arm, scoffed and reclined in his seat while his friends sniggered. A student with violet hair and soft blue eyes, glared daggers at them and spoke loudly.

“Professor Bones is just trying to do her job, it's very rude to-”

“Please Felmier, in that get up? My dad was right when he said NRC was really going to the dogs-”

“It seems to me, lad, that your father has a rather narrow mindset.”

“Eh?”

Kathryne turned around, a brilliant sickly sweet beam on her face as she moved towards the center of the classroom.

“What did you say about my-”

“I’d like to know what gives you the right to question my authority and not only that, but disrupt my lesson. Is it because you feel the need to say something? Well, the floor is yours now. Do enlighten all of us on what exactly your father has to say about NRC’s reputation.”

The student paused, thrown off guard by the unwanted spotlight suddenly cast on him and the eyes that were watching him and his friends.

He gulped before attempting to maintain his composure, “W-well...he...he said that he didn’t know what the headmaster was thinking, bringing in a woman to teach us-”

“So, just to fully comprehend what you’re saying...your father believes that simply because I am a member of the opposite sex, I’m not able to teach a class filled with males?”

“Well-”

“Look at what you’re wearing though!! What kind of respectable teacher would go around looking like that? It’s distracting! My mother never wears clothes like that!” One of the boy’s friends, an Ingihyde student, came to his aid.

“...I see. Yes, I understand completely!” She clapped her hands together and her eyes sparkled, “Students! I just had the most wonderful idea! Why don’t we try a more hands-on approach~?”

Beckoning the Heartslaybul student forward with her finger she called, “Could you come down here please?”

Confusion and befuddlement visible on everyone’s faces as the young man came forward as instructed.

“Yes, just stand riiiiight there, perfect! Now as for me…” Walking over to the desks, she squeezed past the boys and sat right in the empty seat left by the Heartslaybul student. “Alright, now I want you to go to the board and I want you to pick up my lesson right where we left off, can you do that?”

He hesitantly nodded and turned around to face the wide map. Kathryne nudged one of the male’s friends on her left and gave a sly wink just as the boy started talking.

“Um, well...the Afterglow Savannah is located at uh-”

“Hey, why don’t you bend over a little more? I can’t see your ass all that clearly, sailor.”

He paused while much of the class began snickering under their breaths as the boy’s friends fidgeted in their seats.

“Or better yet, why don’t you just rip your shirt off for me?”

He turned his head slightly, visibly embarrassed and uncomfortable with her cajoling.

“You shouldn’t be walking around with your shirt unbuttoned like that, you’re showing way too much skin during school hours, you know. And your pants are far too tight, I can practically see your bulge through them. I mean really, what were you thinking walking around like that?”

She looked around enthusiastically, yet the male’s friends avoided her eyes, the Ignihyde student scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What’s wrong? You all were so enthusiastic when I was in your mate’s position? Why won’t you join in?”

They remained silent, yet she pressed, “Go on, tell me, I’m listening.”

“...B-because it’s-”

“Uncomfortable? Derogatory? Demeaning? You all seemed like you were having a jolly good time speaking to me that way, objectifying my body and criticizing my outfit though. What changed?”

“Your...sh-shirt…”

“How is my shirt different from his? We’re both showing a bit of skin, yet you feel the need to tell me and not him to cover up?”

“It’s because of...of...”

“Don’t be shy now, I want to hear it.”

“Your...your chest-”

“Ahhhh, I see. Yes, I mustn't let anyone see any hint of the tissue overlying my pectoral muscles. They’re not at all nearly the same in terms of our biology, isn’t that correct?”

“...”

Kathryne carried on as she stood up and made her way back to the floor, “Isn’t it funny how as a matter of fact, Professor Crewel who I know you all hold in great respect, also is fond of wearing form fitting clothes that accentuate his assets yet not one of you seem keen on interrupting his lesson by shouting obscenities at him? What makes my fashion choice different from his? These are the clothes I feel comfortable in, clothes that I feel confident in, yet you lot want to try and bring me down by calling me a whore. I bet you all wouldn’t be so quick to critique me if I told all of you to cover up from head to toe because seeing your uniforms is distracting to me. How would that make you all feel?”

There was no answer, a slight muttering under hushed tones and an uneasy silence filling the air.

“You have no right to tell me what to do with my body and how I decide to dress. You’re all here to learn, not to jack off in the middle of my class to the busty school teacher. I’ll have you know, this is the very same outfit I wore when I commandeered the fiercest crew of buccaneers the seven seas had ever seen. This is the outfit I demanded respect from them in and it will be the outfit you will respect me in. Savvy?”

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Professor Bones.”

“Excellent. Now, let’s get back to the lesson. As for you four…” Her gaze landed on the group, a smirk on her lips seeing how shaken they looked. “I’ll be reporting this behavior to each of your dorm heads as well as the Headmaster and they’ll deal with you properly. I’m not fond of dishing out punishments like Professor Crewel, but I happen to know Heartslaybul in particular is a real stickler for the rules.”

“Let’s see…” She mused, turning her attention back to the map. “Who can tell me the Afterglow Savannah’s absolute location?”

Perhaps her academic career wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought.

[sepublic]

A dynamic I’ve been thinking about lately it Amity’s relationship with magic

Bc if I was in her position I would prolly hate doing magic

Her parents are elitist assholes bc of it- said parents control her life over it - not to mention that it separated her from her one true friend growing up: Willow

So what if Amity grew up resentful of magic that she still did everything as perfect as possible due to her parents but hating every second of it

So what if Amity went to the human world for a summer tried to live a life without magic and she realized that yes, she can be so happy without magic that she can experience so many wonderful things but that magic isn’t always bad

After dealing with these feelings Amity realizes that Magic can also be beautiful and make her happy as well

           The way I see it, I think Amity IS someone who legitimately enjoys learning about magic, and even the process of teaching others… She’s genuinely interested in magic in-part because of The Good Witch Azura and is inspired by her role model, and Amity clearly enjoys reading books to kids! Not only that, but…

           …It’s not exactly canon, but there was this one DisneyTVA post that showed a cardboard cut-out of a sad and lonely-looking Amity! The caption explained that she pitched an educational series to the Disney executives but was rejected!

           My read on Amity is that she DOES like to learn, and if allowed to self-actualize, would probably enjoy becoming a teacher actually! But because of the way she’s been taught, Amity has confused/associated learning with school as a system and an institution; That these two are synonymous, that if you like to learn, you ALSO like school and its environment! She sees the two as one and the same, a package that comes together, and I don’t think Amity realizes that you can still enjoy learning, while hating the school environment!

           For me, I think the pressure and standards that the Blight Parents have put onto Amity have ‘ruined’ her hobby and interest for her, as now she’s turned Magic and learning from a passion into yet another means of social advancement; Which means Amity can no longer unconditionally enjoy it and constantly has to measure her decisions by which one attains the highest grade for her, VS just having fun and being casual with her mistakes!

           I headcanon Amity as someone who initially started off as a Gifted Kid and did very well, enthusiastically enjoying Magic and having a natural talent and passion for it… Hence why the Blight Parents were so insistent on Amity not being ‘dragged down’ by Willow and her late-blooming, in addition to their own classist attitudes of course! But as Amity got older and poured all of her energy into doing well in school, eventually she got burnt out… She began falling behind on her past successes, as top scores came a lot less easily to her, and Amity’s passion for school began to dwindle.

           And, it’s another reason why Amity is so frustrated and critical of herself- Because in the past she used to ace school effortlessly and barely had to put in effort, why is it so hard and difficult for her now!? Why is she becoming so anxious over this, it used to be so easy, is there something wrongwith her? And now Amity is afraid of having built up her parents’ expectations, only to have secretly ‘lied’ and thus will let them down… In addition to ‘falling behind’ the development of characters like Willow and Luz!

           Of course, Amity would NEVER be against her friends being stronger than her, but she’d definitely internalize this into self-loathing as an example of how she needs to be better! Because she used to be at the top, so why is she falling behind? Was she really never meant for greatness, is this some cruel joke by the universe? And it’d be difficult for her to get back into learning magic, because now it’s just a constant reminder of her own inabilities and alleged failings…

           As you suggested, I can see Amity getting away from her parents’ abuse, and initially trying to unlearn it by rejecting the concept of school and learning in general… But as she goes cold-turkey from this, inevitably she’s still gonna be less happy; Happier than she was before, because no more abuse and more love from Luz and the others! But admittedly, Amity won’t feel completely fulfilled, she’ll find herself missing the idea of learning more about magic, and she’ll be confused, because wasn’t school an abusive and unhealthy environment for her??? 

           So in comes Eda. To me, Eda and Amity are both alike in that… I see them as characters who actually have a huge love and passion for learning, but the specific structure of school as an institution, as well as the pressure to succeed by the Coven System, ruined this hobby for them. And I think Eda is well-aware of the distinction between learning and education, VS school as an institution and a system meant to make kids orderly and pressure them to succeed… So I can easily see her explaining to Amity that there IS a divide between the two, that there is a difference!

          And just as Eda rediscovered how to love learning about magic on her own terms, by getting away from the oppressive school environment and doing things her own way, amidst her own recent lessons with Luz about Glyphs… I can see her helping Amity rediscover that same passion, either by having lessons with Lilith at the Owl House and/or attending school again, but this time without the pressure to succeed and be the best!

          I think it’d be beautiful, seeing Eda, Luz, and Lilith help Amity reclaim her love of learning and education that was taken away from her and ruined by the Blight Parents! Helping Amity get back to learning about things unconditionally, doing it on her own terms and converting it back into HER choice, rather than those of her parents…

          Amity can rediscover how to learn about magic simply for the sake of it, and not just to attain some other goal! Luz in particular legit loves magic and is intrigued by it, I could see Luz’s ramblings and passion helping Amity as the two begin to collaborate, as Amity’s negative memories with learning are replaced with the positive ones she has with Luz, Eda, and Lilith…! Luz’s enthusiasm for magic is likely bound to get contagious, and remind Amity of why got interested in the first place, amidst both girls enjoying The Good Witch Azura together and continuing to be inspired by it, and one another!

           If I had to guess? I think that in a scenario where Amity was allowed to figure out who she was and what she wanted to do… I think she’d be happy with being a teacher! But specifically, one fixated on her curriculum and lessons prioritizing the enjoyment of students, a teacher who cares about helping kids really get to know Magic and actually appreciate it up-close, with less regard for trying to get high grades!

          I think Amity would work on her lessons to encourage students to really think about and engage with what they’re learning, instead of just reading it out of a textbook or something… Less blind memorization and recitals, or filling people’s heads like an empty box; And more inspiring thought and creativity, like tending to a living flame! And I can see Amity working to change the school system to be more geared towards honest education, instead of simply indoctrinating and preparing kids for their roles in the Coven System!

          I like your idea a lot, @imamwolf, it makes sense with what this show has to say, and I know I’m literally just regurgitating what you already told me, but still! This show has a lot to say about the relationship between a student, education, and a teacher, and how a teacher fulfills their role!

[promethes]

how an idiot like me got into good schools

A quick run-through of my academic history and how I got into good colleges will be below the cut! I’m also including a list of some of the schools I got into for reference. I apologize in advance for how messy this is, but my memory is shitty and I remember random things that I keep throwing in lol. (and for people congratulating me, thank you very much, but I got into all these schools last year lol! so keep in mind I graduated high school in 2019)

If all you came for are the basic stats and you don't want my rambling: I went to a public school GPA: around 4.4 on 4.0 scale (3.9 unweighted) SAT: 1520/1600 APs: 10 (4 3s, 2 4s, 4 5s) Extracurricular: mainly NHS (around 300 volunteering hours), StuCo, Varsity Golf, and Quiz Bowl

EDIT: comments made by the readers who reviewed my application are available here!

First off, I am not an einstein! I am blessed that I pick up on stuff easily and gifted in academics, but I’m nowhere near a genius. For a little backstory, I went to a public school in Michigan for the entirety of my pre-k - 12 education. When I was in the third grade, the district introduced an accelerated program. We took a quasi IQ test and if we tested high enough (I think the threshold was 80%? If I remember correctly I got a 97) we were put in a class that was 2 years ahead in English and Math. We stayed grouped together for the rest of our public schooling, basically a core group of around 20 people. Since we were the first year of the program and our grade was exceptionally gifted for some weird reason, it was a very high achieving group of students, so I’m going to include their stats along with mine for comparison because colleges also factor in your peers when they look at your stats.

I’ll start off with basic stats:

I got a 1520 on the SAT. My grade had around 5 - 10 people achieve over 1500. Some of them had been studying for years, while others (me) did not know that the SAT existed until that year and couldn’t afford any private tutoring and had no patience for the study books from the library. I’m lucky to have an aptitude for the skills they were testing. I did not take any SAT subject tests.

For GPA, I think I ended up with around a 4.4 on a 4.0 scale. I was around 15/350 when it came to class standing, so I was far from the valedictorian. I think our valedictorians got around a 4.6 or 4.7.

I took 10 AP tests. I got a 3 in APUSH, World History, Language and Comp (I fell asleep lol), and Chem (I will get into this class a little later). I got a 4 in Literature (I fell asleep. Again.) and in Psychology. I got a 5 in Calc AB & BC, Comp Sci Principles, and Environmental Science.

AP classes were really pushed in my high school, especially onto my grade, and I don’t like being told what to do lol so I pushed back and took fewer AP classes than most of my peers (valedictorians ended up with maybe 15? It’s crazy) and basically only took classes I was interested in or that I had to take because I had exhausted the rest of the curriculum.

I also dual-enrolled in 2 classes at the local community college since I’d exhausted the curriculum at my high school for things I wanted to do (english and comp sci). I want to make it clear that I never sat down and planned how I was going to maximize my schedule or how I’d take the most advanced classes, I just fell into it since we had already essentially skipped two grades. Most people didn’t dual enroll since they wanted the AP GPA boost.

For extracurriculars, I mainly focused on Quiz Bowl, Golf, NHS (volunteered around 350 hours in 3 years I think) and Student Government. I never had any leadership positions and just kind of fucked around most of the time. Most of my peers held several leadership positions throughout the years and did like a bazillion things. 5 of them even traveled to Europe for some science research thing where they presented their research. I was not that big of a nerd.

In junior year, I stumbled on something called Questbridge and decided to apply because I wanted the money for the scholarship. I became a Questbridge college prep scholar, which then led me to apply for the National College Match. I didn’t rank any binding schools so I didn’t match, but I did apply to several schools with their application. If you are a low-income high achieving student, I highly recommend looking them up. I was the first person in my school to do this program and encouraged my peers to do it too. I think 4 of us were Questbridge scholars.

As you can see, I had good numbers, which probably got me past the first wave of application look throughs. However, I’m fairly confident that what made me stand out was my essays. I always stress this to whoever asks me for advice: do not write a perfect essay, write YOUR essay. I can only imagine how bored those poor people are of reading about someone winning a soccer game or a spelling bee. Add some pizzazz in there. Talk about your flaws and your mistakes and your unique life experiences! 

For example, my personal essay wasn’t even in essay format! I wrote it like journal entries, focusing on my sophomore year when my life was Extra Tumultuous and I was going through homelessness. I did not say I was homeless once in the essay. I just did day by day entries of what my life was like during that time and through that the readers were able to see that I loved to read, that I am fiercely protective of my single-parent family, and they saw how I handled adversity. I want to stress that I’m not encouraging poverty porn at all. I did not write it to make the reader feel bad. I simply relayed what I thought about in a day, focusing on both big and small.

I also wrote about funny things related to academics, partly to explain my transcript and partly to be funny. This is the AP Chem thing. I actually dropped out of it after one term (so about a third of the way through) so I could dual enroll in a class I was interested in instead. My chem teacher HATED that since I was good at chemistry (hate it. Hate that subject so much) and tried to convince me to stay. One of the things he said was “You’ll never be ready for college if you don’t take this class! You wouldn’t even be able to pass the AP test!” so I said bet. dropped the class and signed up for the AP test that same day and showed up almost every day for the rest of the year and dicked around the entire class, taking naps in the back of the lab, sitting on his desk, cracking jokes about whatever he was teaching. I got a 3 on that exam purely out of spite with only half the information I needed. So write about stuff like that. It’s fun.

The fact that I had no guidance in writing the essays was actually really good for me since I just kind of let loose. My UChicago essay read like I was on crack, and they loved it so much that they literally mentioned it during the welcome speech for their little college visit in April.

And don’t sweat over the small stuff! The short answers don’t have to be perfect and mind-blowing, just answer honestly. For the “why Yale” supplemental essay I just ranted about how beautiful their library is for a good 300 words (at some point I said I needed my inhaler because it was that breathtaking. I made a Yale admissions officer read that.) I ranted about Howl’s Moving Castle to Columbia. I told them my favorite magazine was the American Girl ones for their arts and crafts! I have a friend at Columbia who literally sent them a picture of her in a duck costume as a supplement. They loved it. So don’t lose your mind trying to sound worldly and educated. You’re like. 17. Just answer honestly and don’t think too hard about it.

I was also extremely lucky to have a dedicated counselor who sat down for hours with each individual student to write fantastic letters of recommendation. She really made it clear what I had achieved and what challenges I’d faced.

So. tl;dr: I got lucky. Unless your parents donated a couple billion to the school, there are no guarantees. Sometimes you can have the stats and perfect essays and amazing extracurriculars and you can still get rejected because they don’t think you’re a good fit with the school compared to the rest of the applicants. There’s limited space in the student body. I got into schools my valedictorians didn’t get into even though I was academically less than them in every possible way. So let yourself shine through your essays and know you’ll end up in an environment that values the person they saw in those essays.

I got into a lot of schools, and don’t really have a record of all of them, but here are some of the top ones I can remember off the top of my head:

Yale, Columbia, University of Chicago (likely letter), Northwestern, University of Michigan, Northeastern, CWRU, UNC Chapel Hill, and a couple other schools here and there that slip my mind at the moment.

[namjoonchronicles]

protocol • nj

↳ genre fluff, domestic, parenthood

↳ words 2.7k

↳ summary Not everyone has a clue on how to raise a genius child, especially you.

↳ warning none

This is third time in a row that you find yourself waiting in this office. The hideous view of the mahogany desk, the slanted photo frame by the door sill. When the secretary leaves her desk and gives you an annoyed look, you felt the need to rise from your chair and tell her exactly how you feel before she even gets near.

“Listen, with all due respect,” you began with a sigh, “This is a horrendous waiting spell, my husband and I—“

Namjoon just went out to get coffee for both of you and he came forward to a scene he wasn’t prepared for.

“How many more procedures do we need to go through, just!” your voice raises, “to get an elementary school scholarship? Other people have their jobs to get to, and honestly fuck you and your stupid protocols. Why do you even have an office when you’re out 24/7.”

Heels spun to see your husband’s caught in the headlights eye, holding up two coffee takeaways, probably stopped breathing 2 minutes ago. You grabbed your hand bag and the documents in the secretary’s hand, and told her with a menacing tone,

“If my baby boy doesn’t get the scholarship he very much deserved, that’s on you.”

You snatched the coffee from Namjoon’s hand and grumbled, “We’re leaving.”

Namjoon followed immediately after, too stunned to even say a word. The secretary, in her expensive Alexander McQueen, and Pandora bracelets stood there with her arms down. Namjoon bows numerous times, even as he exits the revolving door. His wife is fuming, he hasn’t had breakfast, or lunch, can this day get any worse?

Fuck that because his wife is marching towards the car and finds the parking ticket on the windshield. You crumple that up and throw it on the ground, fuming.

Namjoon zooms on in the balled-up parking ticket and picks it up from the tar road as you angrily climb into the car and shut the car door as hard as you can. Namjoon climbs in on the passenger seat, holding his breath.

By now, you’re leaning your forehead on the steering wheel, sniffling.

“Babe,” barely audible but full of soothing weight, his large hand covered your back, up and down, side to side. Then it crept up your shoulders,as he pinches them with just the right amount of pressure and presses his lips on them, whispering, “It’s going to be okay.”

You leaned back to your car seat, finally having calmed a little. Tears streaming down your cheek still. They just continuously roll. They just won’t stop.

“For all we care, Koya doesn’t even need the scholarship. We could totally afford the school,” he said with a little shrug and the clarity of a billionaire.

“Yeah but he deserves it, he worked hard for it...”

“But he doesn’t need it.”

Namjoon switches in his seat, “We’ve been battling this out for two weeks now, I think it’s time that we move on and pay him ourselves... it’s not like it was too much, you know damn well I could afford his fees without having to go through this trouble of asking signatures from people who are clearly shirking from their much needed duty.”

There’s truth in his words. But Hyun isn’t just enrolling into an elementary school. He was enrolling in an exclusive curriculum that was arranged for above average IQ. That, he got from his dad, you’re sure.

“The parking ticket,” you squeaked.

“I got it,” he shot.

After what seemed forever, the car finally moves. Koya is sent to an art class on weekends so when you fetch him, his clothes were stained with all kinds of color. Namjoon and you looked from the car window, with a fond smile plastered on both your faces.

“He couldn’t be more obvious ha,” you commented. And Namjoon just smiled wider.

“Go get your son,” you said through a big grin.

“I’mma go get my son,” Namjoon said, the seatbelt whirled, and the car door clicks open. You smiled at the view of his back as he jogs a little to cross the street to get to his son. He gestured for the little one to wait until he gets there. They’re like a big and small pair. Koya jumps into his father’s arm and you could tell that Namjoon was grateful for those hours at the gym. Koya is 30 kilograms at the age of 7 and chances are he is going to lose all that weight by 10. Then he is going to grow taller. He is already taller than most of his friends. And then you will have to deal with two towers at home.

After art classes, it is important for Koya to take a nap. Brains that rest well, work well. He doesn’t even have any do’s-and-don’ts, he eats literally anything, studies when he wants, watches TV. So, while all parents fret on what their kids eat, how many hours they watch TV, when they study, you never had to worry all of that. In your principles, kids should be kids and in a way that is acceptable by the society.

They shouldn’t be on the phone for hours. They should be doing things what 7-year olds should do. And you’re lucky that Namjoon, sometimes agrees with you. One of his arguments was that the phone was one of the greatest technologies ever made and now, you can observe the movement of the planet through an app.

In his words, “Isn’t that cool!” Blinding smile, twinkling eyes, all the fiasco.

Namjoon carries Koya in from the backseat, took off his shoes, socks, and lay him down on his space rocket bed. While you escaped to the showers, Namjoon shed his jacket and sat on the edge of his office desk, reviewing documents to be sent in order to self-sponsor his child. His silhouette forms, the orange sky behind him looking picturesque as he flips the pages slowly, taking to terms everything he needed to know.

You by now have reclined to the door sill on your sides with your arms crossed and a faint smile on your lips, boring into the view of him.

“Love,” you called.

Namjoon jerks his head up, hanging his jaw, mumbling, “...two hundred seventy-five thousand,” and registers that you have mentioned his pet name, “yes?”

“I was just thinking,” you thwarted further into his home office, to the two-seater sofa he has and sat, “Is this the right thing to do?” You looked up at him, briefly, not long enough for him to decipher your thoughts, “Sending our baby off to a system they say, made for children like him? Why do they make it sound like he’s different?”

“How do we know that we,” you paused and try to rephrase your sentence so it sounds right, but no matter how you switch the words, it sounds wrong, “You and I both know what it’s like to be in the system, the pressure, the title of a genius, the weight of the word. Koya’s just 7...”

Namjoon turns over his shoulder, sets the documents down on the desk, and rubbed the back of his neck, tutting his tongue.

“What if he ends up resenting us? The way we did with our parents, for sending us both to a special school and giving us depression before we even turned 12. All because we have the family’s name to live up to.”

Namjoon moves from the desk, to circle the mahogany coffee table, and to the seat next to you.

“You heard him yourself that he wants to go to this school, that he wanted this curriculum. You heard yourself that his teachers cannot,” he shut his eyes and re-phrased, “do not, have anymore materials to teach him because he was beyond that level of intelligence,” Namjoon covered your knees with his palm.

“I don’t want him to feel that his intelligence is the only thing that defines him.”

“That’s why we need to send him there, so they’ll teach him!” He rejoiced. But no matter what, you can’t deny the weariness in your heart. You were worried that a system different from others, will make him the odd one in the bunch. You for instance, cheated on your IQ test so that you scored lower than the initial ones because you heard your parents plan. Namjoon didn’t do his IQ test until he was in middle school and he narrowly escaped from attending a more specific curriculum for the gifted.

“Let’s give this a try, for the hell of it,” his voice softens.

“This is your son’s future,” you darted, poking his chest.

You stood up, abruptly. Namjoon pushes his tongue to cheek.

“I’m going to my parents, don’t wait up,” you shouted from the door. Namjoon hangs his head low.

“She was the one being all ‘my son needs to have this scholarship, fuck your protocols and shit’ and now, she’s not even sure,” Namjoon lifts his ass off the couch, mumbling to himself. But you change your mind like you change your clothes when it comes to what’s best for others. Because you know for a certain, while you put your earrings that evening, it’s your son who will have to deal with the aftermath. And any decisions made, in place of him, is your responsibility. And you know this, because Namjoon isn’t always going to be around for a discussion.

You will be left raising Koya alone most of the time.

Namjoon has to leave by midnight, and he’s unsure if you really need to be at your parents today. He didn’t think you should, but you sounded so certain that anything he says would be best thrown in the bin before it leaves his mouth.

He clears his throat, “Helsinki is tonight, just so you know— “

“—I know,” you put on your perfume, and rubbed your wrist together, looking at him through the mirror.

“I thought you might have forgotten— “

“—I won’t be out long, I just needed some clarity, some kind of foundation that I’m doing something right,” you explained, slipping your phone into your back pocket, brushed your shoulder against your husband as you walked out.

Two weeks after that conversation, Hyun, which was Koya’s actual name, was colouring in his colouring book when he said, “Mom, do you know that goldfish has an attention span of only 9 seconds?”

“No, baby. I didn’t know that,” you lied, you knew.

Hyun continued to colour, moving his head to the other side, “I got that fact from you, actually,” he passed.

Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe you were underestimating your kid by thinking you know best. Maybe you’re afraid of something that hasn’t happen yet. Either way, as you pan out to the view outside the Trimage Apartment, where the skies are a concoction of lilac and pink, you prayed someone else would take the wheel.

“How come you do not know when your own husband is coming back?” Your mother nags you, as you held the door open for her.

“Because he would tell me if I needed to know. Chances are, he doesn’t even know when he’ll be back, so why bother asking?” You plopped on the sofa next to her.

“It feels like you’re doing this all on your own, by the looks of it...” she passed, looking around your apartment, scanning for whatever is out of place.

“What drinks do you want, ma?” You asked, already off the couch and speeding towards the kitchen, “Tea? Juice?”

“Juice sounds great,” she passed, “I came to keep you company, because I heard from your dad that Namjoon wasn’t around...”

“Aww, is it really because of that or are you bored of seeing dad pick his nose,” you chuckled.

“I don’t need to answer that,” your mom grimaced.

Hours after she came, while Hyun is away for a camping trip, you sat down with her, watching Pretty Women. Her favourite movie.

“You know, when you were younger, you showed incredible talent in academics and memory. Your dad and I were panicking, because when the doctor say it was above average, the reading, checking 6 out of 6 types of intelligence, we literally don’t know what to do...”

You lay your head on her lap this time, curled in a ball and to the side. You hummed in reply.

“I know you cheated on your IQ test thinking I’ll send you off to a boarding school if you did well, and although I think you were capable of it, I wasn’t ready to let you go despite what your father said,” she continued in a soft gentle voice.

It was then she revealed that all she wanted was for you to study at your own pace, at your own capability, without her interfering—or telling you that you’re made for something much better, much more difficult than this. For awhile, she thought what she did was right. Honing your mind by suppressing them. But she sometimes wished that she had went the other way. That she should have seen you for what you are without you fearing anything, without you over-calculating.

“I for sure, don’t know how Namjoon was raised, but I think when it comes to this, his mother is a more eligible person to be asked,” she pats your head. And your eyes bore into the screen at the view of Julia Roberts dazzling smile, not sharing the joy she had.

But rather, the insecurity of it all.

Miles away, several countries apart was Namjoon sitting in his black Sedan, waiting for his driver to get him where he needs to be next. While he waits, he scrolls down the missed call list, his wife in a good 17 of it.

He knows Hyun is away for a stargazing camp. He knows that his wife is still unsure about the curriculum. And he knows that he is running out of comfort words to present to his worry-wart wife. Some things are best unplanned. And some things are best waited out. His logical mind versus your soft heart—a familiar battle.

The moment you picked his calls up, he said, “We’ve been through this many times. We have had conversations and we’re running in circles of whether or not our son is capable of what he is capable of. And I say yes, while you say no. Harbouring all sorts of feelings, by staying on your side and I’m staying on mine and I think it’s safe to say that we both are sick of it—and I...”

“You’re right,” that isn't the retaliation he expected? That rare sound of defeat. He was so stunned he couldn’t even process it all in a string of a second. His wife, hot-headed butch of a wife say that he was right? Is this real? Is this even the right number? Yes, it’s his wife. He checked to be sure. Twice.

“You’re right, I’m overthinking it. I’m making my past as my son’s future, implying my fears as his, and see myself in him when he is himself,” you sighed into the phone.

“And I think, we will take him out only if he says he wants out, which he isn’t,” you added, “It’s hard when he looks up at me because I see myself. I forgot that you see that too. I mean,” you chuckled short, “Who else knows how to raise a kid smarter than yourself?”

“Babe, I love you. I’m catching the first flight home, and this time, I’m coming home when I say I am.”

The plane’s wing slices through the night sky.

“And our family will be whole again.”

Namjoon is poking toy swords into the air, next to you.

“Focus, Kim,” you scolded, “We came to find Koya’s birthday present, not yours.”

“I already got my birthday present,” he shot back, “I’m looking at her.” You turned to him to see a sleazy smile and a wink.

“If you do that again, I’m going to actually hurl something at your head,” you warned, “There’s something about you Virgos.”

“Well, like it or not, you’ve married a Virgo. The damage is done,” he then proceeds to make machine-gun sounds.

“What do you buy for a 7-year old genius?” You hummed.

“Whatever 7-year olds likes,” he wiggles his eyebrow and showed the very sword he was holding.

So that’s how you got three swords home. Not sure if this a blessing or a curse. But the smile on those two faces, what else can be better than this.

Fuck standard operating procedures. Fuck protocols.

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copyright © 2019 namjoonchronicles do not repost

[silverlightqueen]

Secret

idol!Jimin x teacher!reader - nothing but fluff

Word Count - 3.1k+

Summary - You like to keep your private life just that... private. But Jimin doesn’t quite agree... (ft. Blackpink & NCT 127 as 8 and 9 year-olds lmao)

a/n: this is just a lil drabble, I was inspired by my work experience with all the (more annoying than) cute kids !! lmk what you think x (I think y’all might like this @arvbellas @khaoticamour @keylowmonie xxx)

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘Miss Park?’ I hear from behind me, turning to look at one of my students, Lisa, big eyes hidden behind her thick fringe as she looks up at me shyly, fingers toying with the hem of her blue and white check pinafore, part of the school’s summer uniform. 

‘Yes, darling?’ I ask, and a smile breaks across her face at the pet name. ‘Mrs Kim’s at the door, she said she’s got something for you,’ she says, and my eyes flit to the door, seeing the school receptionist, Kim Dahyun, waiting for me outside the door, visible through the windows.

I get up from where I’m crouched on the floor beside Lee Taeyong, Mark Lee and Jung Jaehyun who are struggling immensely with their 12 times tables. ‘I’ll be back in a minute, boys,’ I say at their protests, before turning to Lisa, ‘do you mind helping them, Lis? I know you know yours?’ The girl nods hesitantly before approaching the boys, and I watch slyly, nervous about how shy and quiet Lisa is around her classmates, or rather, how the boys will react to her. Mark moves to the side and pats the bit of his chair that is now free for Lisa to sit down, and my heart melts as she sits beside him nervously.

I weave my way through my Year 4 class that I’ve had all the way from Year 1, the group holding a special place in my heart, until I reach the door, slipping out and holding it open with one foot so I can hear if they become too boisterous (and quieten them before the bitchy Year 5 teacher, Mrs Choi, can come and have a go at me… again).

‘Hi, Mrs Kim,’ I say, the older woman smiling at me. I’m not particularly friendly with any of the other teachers at the school, all of them too petty and gossipy and competitive for my liking, so I keep myself to myself, something the rest of them hate. They’re always inviting me to things, which I decline, only to find out things about me and my life, as they know little more than my name and age.

‘Another delivery for you, Miss Park,’ Mrs Kim says, handing me a big bouquet of red roses, and I roll my eyes as a smile tugs at my lips, taking the flowers from her hands. ‘This is the fifth bouquet this term, Miss Park, and we’re not even halfway through,’ she says, clearly nosing, but I laugh it off. ‘It’s crazy, isn’t it?’ I reply, the beautiful scent of the flowers making me feel serene, not getting annoyed with her prying as I usually do.

‘You must have a very keen secret admirer,’ Mrs Kim says primly, and before I can reply, I hear a shout from inside. ‘Sorry, Mrs Kim, I should probably go. Thank you for dropping these off though,’ I say, not giving her a chance to answer before I rush in. I worry that it’s Lisa, and that the boys have turned on her, but when my eyes land on their corner, Lisa looks more than comfortable, the boys writing out the answers as she gives them.

I scan the room and then I spot them; Kim Jisoo and Jennie Kim. I quickly rush over and they both spot me coming, instantly beginning to shout over each other to tell me what’s happened. ‘Stop it, both of you. You know we only speak to each other politely using our manners in this classroom, no shouting whatsoever. Now, what’s happened? You can each tell me from your perspectives,’ I say.

‘Jisoo put glue in my hair!’ Jennie exclaims, and Jisoo turns to her with a gasp. ‘You put clay in mine first!’ Jisoo says back, even louder. ‘Did not!’ ‘Did too!’ ‘Did not!’ ‘Um, excuse me!’ I exclaim, shutting them both up. ‘What have I just said?’ I ask, the two girls looking slightly sheepish. ‘Manners,’ Jennie says. ‘No shouting,’ Jisoo says.

‘Good. Right, so you’re both in the wrong, it seems. I don’t care who did what first, you both put things in the others’ hair. God knows why, we’re supposed to be doing maths,’ I mutter the last bit to myself. ‘Right, both of you apologise,’ I say, and they both stay quiet for a moment, too stubborn to say it first.

‘We’ll stay here all day if we have to,’ I say, and Jisoo gives in. ‘Sorry, Jennie. I shouldn’t have put clay in your hair,’ Jisoo says, and I nod, proud of her. I mentally count through the roses and when I know there’s enough, I begin to pull one out of the bouquet.

‘I accept your apology, and I’m sorry too, Jisoo, I shouldn’t have put glue in your hair,’ Jennie says, and I pull out another rose. I hand each girl a rose and they both beam at me. ‘And when you own up your mistakes, apologise and behave maturely, you get rewarded for it,’ I say.

I feel someone tap my back then, and turn to look. Jaehyun stands there, his shorts uneven on his legs and before he can speak, I put the bouquet down and bend down to fix them, rolling one leg down. ‘Miss Park,’ he says as I stand up, and I nod at him, motioning for him to say what he wants to say.

‘Can I give one to Lisa for teaching us the 12 tables times?’ he asks, and my heart melts again at how sweet my class is to one another. ‘Times tables, Jaehyun, not tables times. And, yes, of course, and you have one too for being so sweet. And give one each to Mark and Taeyong for being kind to your classmate,’ I say, pulling four roses out and handing them to the boy who beams up at me, beginning to run back to his friends. ‘Jaehyun! Walk!’ I call after him, the boy instantly slowing down into a speed-walk.

‘Miss Park,’ I hear, turning to look at Roseanne Park, or Rosie as we know her, looking up at me with her wide eyes. ‘Are the flowers from Mr Park?’ she asks, and I nod, a smile spreading across my face at the thought of him. ‘He’s so romantic!’ she exclaims, clapping her little hands together, and I nod in agreement.

I pull out a rose for her, in a good mood now, before I give everyone a rose, one remaining for me. It’s almost like he knows how many to send. When I dismiss the children at the end of the day, their parents, who wait outside the door, smile at me indulgently when they see their kids clutching their roses, knowing my husband has spoiled me once more, and when he spoils me, I spoil my children.

-

‘That’s a nice new car, Miss Park. How on earth did you afford that on our meagre teachers’ wage?’ Mrs Kim asks as I sign in at the front desk, trying to hide my eye roll from the gaggle of bitchy receptionists. Of course they noticed my brand-new Audi, gifted to me by my husband who loves spoiling me.

‘Thank you,’ I say shortly, ignoring the question, heading towards the door to leave as quickly as I can. ‘Was it a gift?’ one of the other receptionists, Mr Jung, says, leaning forward on his elbows with a raised eyebrow. ‘Yes, it was, from my partner,’ I say, all of them exchanging glances.

‘We didn’t know you were in a relationship, Miss Park! You kept that one quiet!’ Miss Kang exclaims, and I give a false smile. ‘Yes, well, my other half is a dancer with a group that is almost always abroad, so I’m always home alone, meaning I never have any stories to tell. But anyway, I should go, Mrs Choi wanted to meet for a curriculum discussion, so I’ll see you later,’ I say, not giving them a chance to reply before I duck out of the room, sighing with relief once the door falls shut behind me.

I don’t mind talking about myself and my personal life, I really don’t; it just annoys me that they only ever want to get to know me so that they can tell everyone else the ‘gossip’ they’ve found. Hopefully, due to my wording, they’ll go around spreading that I’m with a foreign lesbian stripper, rather than the truth, which I’d much rather hide.

I take a detour in the toilet, sending ‘Mr Park’ a quick text, before heading down to Mrs Choi’s classroom. As soon as I step foot through the door, she looks up at me with a smirk. ‘What’s this I hear about your foreign dancer partner?’ she asks, and I sigh. It’s going to be a long day.

-

‘Miss Park,’ Kim Doyoung hisses at me from where he sits at the front of the room, just beside where I stand writing on the board. ‘Give me a minute, Doyoung,’ I reply, continuing to write the definitions of ‘noun’, ‘adjective’ and ‘verb’ for the class to copy down.

‘It’s urgent, Miss Park,’ Doyoung hisses again, and I turn to him with slight annoyance. ‘If you need to go to the toilet again, Doyoung, so help me, because you only went twenty minutes ago,’ I say, and he shakes his head, pointing at the door, where I see the receptionists stood in a gaggle.

I squint in confusion, trying to work out what’s going on, before I spot a flash of familiar jet black hair, knowing none of co-workers have hair that dark. Someone else I happen to know, however, does. ‘You’re kidding me,’ I mutter under my breath, before ruffling Doyoung’s hair as an apology for snapping at him.

The door flies open then, the person who threw it open desperately trying to stop it from hitting the wall and making a loud noise, but to no avail, the entire class’ attention on the door now. ‘You forgot your lunch, babe,’ Jimin says, holding out a bag (that most definitely contain my lunch in it) out to me with that annoying grin of his on his face.

‘I… give me a minute, Jimin. Can you go sit at my desk for a minute?’ I say, and he nods, still grinning, the children staring at him as weaves between the tables, high-fiving and winking at the kids as he passes them, all of them beginning to giggle at him. I catch his eye, giving him a hard stare, and he subdues instantly, taking the seat behind my desk.

‘Thank you, gentlemen, ladies,’ I say to the receptionists at the door, a clear dismissal, and, reluctantly, they begin to troop back to reception, shutting the doors behind them. ‘Right, sorry for the disruption, children. Come on, get writing,’ I say, turning back to the board and finishing the definitions. I can feel Jimin’s eyes on me, making me flustered, causing me to make a few mistakes which I rub out hastily, hoping the children don’t notice.

‘Once you’ve finished those, put your books away and we’ll start reading lines before lunch,’ I say, excited whispers instantly running through the room. ‘Why are we talking? The quicker you get your definitions done, the longer we’ll have to run lines,’ I say, all of the children instantly beginning to write, telling each other to rush. ‘Miss Park, how long ‘til lunch?’ Kim Jungwoo asks, and I supress a laugh at the boy who is always asking me how long ‘til break or lunch. ‘Ten minutes, so get writing. We’ll have an hour and a half after lunch too,’ I say.

Once they’ve all packed their books away, and got their lines out, we start to run through the first scene. We’re doing a shortened version of The Little Mermaid, and my class is very performance inclined, so I already know we’re going to absolutely crush the other classes’ productions, as we have the past few years. Not that that’s what it’s about, of course.

After a rigorous casting process, Rosie is Ariel, Jaehyun is Eric, Jungwoo is Sebastian, Jisoo is Ursula, Taeyong is King Triton, Mark is Flounder, Doyoung is Scuttle, and Lisa, Johnny Seo, Lee Haechan, Dong Sicheng, Yuta Nakamoto and Taeil Moon are all playing Ariel’s (ugly except for Lisa) sisters (and I don’t mean that offensively… just that the wigs we’ve bought with the shitty school budget don’t really do the boys much justice – I’m thinking of just leaving the wigs and having them wear the tails and shell bras alone. I feel like it’d be quite humorous to watch).

As they run through their lines, I march over to Jimin, who looks quite amused watching them say their lines, the smile falling from his face when he spots me coming. ‘What are you doing?’ I hiss at him. ‘Bringing you lunch?’ he says, and I roll my eyes, shaking my head. ‘What were you thinking, you moron?’ I demand. ‘I was thinking it’d be nice for my wife to show me off to her coworkers instead of keeping me a secret all the time,’ he says, and I sigh, feeling guilty then.

‘Listen, Jimin, it’s not like that. I didn’t want them to start crawling up my arse just because I’m married to you, and I didn’t want them to discredit me as a worker knowing that I’m married to a rich man anyway. They’d just assume I don’t work hard because I don’t need to because you’ll buy me everything anyway,’ I say. ‘Well, I will,’ he says, completely missing my point.

‘That’s not the- you know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything. It’s not that deep anyway. I’m just worried it’ll get out to the world. There’d be a huge scandal!’ I say, the realisation suddenly dawning on me. ‘I had a meeting with Bighit this morning. They said it’s time we stopped being a secret, because the longer I keep you quiet, the worse it’ll be when it finally gets out. Oh, yeah, by the way, guys, I’ve been married for nineteen years, sorry for keeping it quiet! It would not go down well at all. So I’m gonna announce it on VLive tonight, if that’s okay with you?’ he asks, melting my heart. ‘Okay. You can announce it,’ I say, and he grins. ‘Well, you’ll be there with me. Right?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Always,’ I say, and he smiles at me warmly, my heart skipping a beat.

‘I didn’t realise how sexy you are in teacher mode,’ he says, the affectionate smile falling off my face at the perverted look he shoots me. ‘Was it too soon? Did I ruin the mood?’ he asks, and I nod, rolling my eyes at how clueless he is. And then I realise that it’s completely silent in the room.

‘Children! I’m sure you have lines to be running through!’ I exclaim, blushing in embarrassment. Before anyone can say anything else, the bell rings. Usually, the kids all jump up and line up at the door, desperate for lunch, but none of them do, not even Jungwoo. ‘Miss Park… or should I say Mrs Park?’ Jaehyun asks, and I hold back a laugh. ‘Carry on calling me Miss Park,’ I say, Jimin letting out an indignant noise behind me.

‘Miss Park, is that Mr Park?’ Jaehyun asks, and I nod, all of the kids craning their necks to get a good look at Jimin. ‘Is that Park Jimin from BTS?’ Taeyong asks, and I nod again, excited whispers running through the room. ‘But you can’t tell anyone. Not until tomorrow, okay?’ I say, and they all nod. I know they’ll keep their promise, having kept the fact that I was married quiet from the rest of the school for three years.

‘He looks like a Disney prince,’ Rosie whispers, and when Jimin looks at her, she blushes. ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Jimin says, also blushing. ‘You do,’ I say, nodding in agreement with Rosie, who giggles. ‘Are you a good actor, Mr Park?’ Johnny demands, and Jimin looks slightly taken aback, not used to being interrogated by young children like I am every day. I have to hold back a laugh at the almost scared look on his face.

‘Um, I’ve acted before, in a few music videos. Why?’ he asks. ‘Can you help us in our show?’ Haechan asks. ‘We’re doing The Little Mermaid!’ Jisoo exclaims. ‘You could be Prince Eric!’ Jennie exclaims. ‘Hey, Jennie, I’m Prince Eric!’ Jaehyun exclaims indignantly, the shouts getting louder and louder. I hold up a hand and the kids shut up as they notice me waiting, the room falling silent again.

‘Jennie, stop trying to give Jaehyun’s role to my husband, he’s not going to be in our show. But, he might be able to help out a little bit,’ I say, already mentally plotting, Jimin side-eyeing me. ‘What are you planning?’ he asks. ‘Well… you guys have a, like, three month break now, right?’ I ask, and he laughs. ‘Not quite a break, babe. We’re writing and recording,’ he says. ‘Yeah, but that won’t take all your time. Maybe you guys could all come in and help. Joon and Yoongi could write and produce a couple new songs for it, you and Jungkook and Hoseok could help with dances, and vocals, and Jin and Taehyung can help with the acting and directing, as well as vocals,’ I say, Jimin raising an eyebrow.

‘You’re getting carried away,’ he says. ‘I know, but tell me it isn’t possible,’ I say, and he doesn’t say anything, thinking. ‘Exactly!’ I say, excitedly, and the kids all start to whisper. ‘I need to speak to Bang PDnim first, before I agree to anything. Okay?’ he says, and I nod, already knowing Bang Sihyuk won’t have an issue with it. He’s got a right soft spot for me.

‘Right, children, go to lunch now. You can grill my husband after you come back,’ I say. ‘But Miss Park, we wanna rehearse and grill your husband,’ Lisa says, making the whole class laugh. ‘Tell you what? We’ll move our Maths lesson to tomorrow, and have an afternoon long rehearsal, yeah? It’s not like you need to know Maths that desperately anyway, you’re only 8 and 9,’ I mutter the last bit, the class already celebrating.

‘Right, go to lunch. Go on, get out,’ I say, Jimin and I both ushering them out. Once they’ve left, Jimin flops down onto my chair, pulling out the sandwich that was ‘my lunch’ that he brought me (not like I didn’t already have my lunch with me). ‘God,’ he sighs, raking a hand through his dark hair, a mouth full of food, ‘this teacher life is hard.’

[whats-the-story-tc]

22nd of January, 2020

"The One with the Madhouse and Her Eyes"

[LONG POST]

Another day, another flannel. Huh. All I needed is to complain.

Last night, at about 11:30 PM-ish, my cousin (who lives with us) came in, and we had a good long talk about what I'm planning for the future. When I mentioned the A level Literature thing, and that I'm scared of it, but I found it important to add that "my teacher is a fantastic person", so the only reason I was scared is my own abilities. Which is quite right. But on to today, the proof to my statement.

Pocketwatch Friend needed to talk to V, so there we were again, seeking—but this time, finding. She stood in the huge bunch of people in the part of the corridor designated for teachers, as with the second term starting soon, everyone is going slightly mad and needs to talk to everyone all at once. When we showed up, V greeted us with a "What can I help you [the plural] with? I don't have any time by the way, but what can I help you with?" Then I backed away, outside the glass door separating the teachers' area from the other half of that floor and let them speak. Later, when I saw V leave, she was visibly quite moody.

We spoke about her, Pocketwatch Friend and I. She brought how scared she was of V at first, like I was, but when she was taking an exam and V was very kind to her and tried to comfort her with things like "It's okay, I forget what the examples of this and that are, too...", she grew to love her. My case is quite the same although a little different.

Lunch break after fourth period, in front of our classroom. V is listening to people from the other class in our year recite their poems, I'm waiting for my friends. As we gather up and talk, and V is alone, she comes up to us with her personal schedule in hand to tell us the bad news—when our classes will be. Tuesday 5th, Thursday 3rd, Friday 7th-8th double. Yes, you've read that last one correctly. They put a double lesson of an important subject into the time slot where all the school celebrations are and where it gets cancelled most of the time, so basically, they ensured we will get fucking nowhere with the curriculum. V wasn't at all happy about it (she explicitly stated she didn't ask for this), even though she tried to be in good spirits for our sake and even grinned as we spoke to her. But when I looked into her eyes, I could see how tired she was.

Her eyes are a bit cat-like when she's tired or not feeling well, that's something I noticed. Her gaze is very sharp and kind of intimidating at first glance, but if you look long enough, or know her well enough, you can see all that weight of whatever's wrong in them. This is why I used to be so scared of her, because the piercing look is all I saw. But when she's feeling well, you can see all that wisdom and all that beauty I never really saw before I met her properly, in class. Now that is what got me sold on her, long before I even realised it. I have never met someone so beautiful before. And I might never will.

And now, something(s) that absolutely had my jaw on the floor and my heart pounding in the best way. The title of this blog has never, ever been more fitting.

New schedule for the new term. New teacher coming in for foreign English (from now on I'll just say foreign English and V's English to help differentiate), everything is a mess and not even the teachers understood what was going on around them, much less us. So some of us, in absolute hysterics because of the buffoonery going on, just went to V as soon as we saw her, as she was nearest. She made this face of "oof" when Debate Friend told her about some changes that were made. Then I asked her about the new teacher. She was the only one who knew this is a whole new guy, then told us "but don't storm your homeroom teacher. She's really not doing well." And there they were again. The concerned eyes. It was just a short look, mostly directed at me, but we understood immediately.

I kept on fuming the whole German class through, then immediately headed towards the teachers' lounge with some of my friends, to look for my (now ex-)foreign English teacher. Poor thing didn't even know our classes with her today got cancelled. She then went along to hug me and say "I won't teach you anymore", which threw me off, as I thought she hated my guts in the past 3 years. I'm gonna miss her a lot, and it's a shame our group got taken away from her, which neither us, nor she asked for.

But onto V. As we were waiting by the stairway leading up there, my homeroom teacher and V were walking there together. They may have just met on the way, but I honestly think V accompanied her on purpose, because... that's her. She would do it to anyone in a heartbeat. Plus, V is kind of our surrogate homeroom teacher mainly for this reason—to help the actual one, as she can't deal with everything all at once alone. Later, as our homeroom teacher came to us with "Don't ask anything", then proceeded to tell us everything that was wrong, V walked by briefly upstairs, shooting us a look. But as I was walking home, ranting to my Dad over the phone in tears from frustration, as the situation really was that chaotic, something else also happened. I'll just translate what Pocketwatch Friend texted me when I asked her to tell me. (Don't worry, she knows about the blog, though she's never read my posts as of yet. She knows I'm writing to you guys about this, and she consented.)

"I'm going down the stairs, there's [a girl from our year], [friend of ours] and Art Friend. I'm telling Art Friend that you spoke to [ex-English teacher] and she doesn't know what's really up, when V comes down the stairs with her cute little hat and looks at us. She shoots a small smile so maybe she can brighten the situation and joins our little circle, then says 'Don't be nervous, okay?' [...] Then I added that we're fine, but this uncertainty is a bit concerning. And that not even the teachers know what's going on. Her face lights up, I could almost hear her mentally yelling 'Finally someone normal!' #noego I can't exactly remember what happened then, but that much I know that after a short exchange she looked back at me/us from the bottom of the stairs saying that 'Don't stress and TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES'"

She then proceeded to tell me that she finds her cute and now she totally understands me because to her, V is like a big sister she can't wait to ask how her day was and if she could help her with maths. She really does understand the love part, too, though, and tells me every time she wishes she could help. (And called what I wrote about V after Friday beautiful, as I showed her the more private part you guys didn't get to see.) Though I think my case is just a step or maybe two less platonic than hers is, as I actually call it love, it's probably still just more of an extreme case of admiration.

But like... how could I not admire (or love or whatever this is) her? How could any sane person not? I called myself a guardian angel yesterday, but... I'm a demon compared to her. I'm in awe of her kindness each and every day, I really am. Hence the title. "All the little ways she cares."

I have no idea what I'd do if she was the one they swapped out without warning. But if we're going with the demon metaphor... I was frustrated and angry today. But then, I'd raise hell. For her? Without question.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[dark0angel13]

Prey

Somethings different. Nothing outwardly has changed, but on a primal level, nothing excites her anymore. Smells are feint, colors faded and blurring together. Touches don’t set her body alight with electricity anymore and she finds herself daydreaming even with lips at her neck and fingers skirting her stomach. Her body responds physically but only just enough to urge her lover on. There is no heat, no desire. Everything has changed and for the life of her, she can’t fathom why.

“Your body is on fire for me…” the words at her ear are husky and trembling as the lips move up to suckle on her lobe. Indeed her body was on fire, but not for the body currently touching it. She feels a hand reach for the button on her skirt and she can’t take it anymore.

“Hey-“

“Sorry but I’m just not feeling it anymore. I think we should see other people.” Her words are clipped and she’s walking away before a response is made. Part of her feels remorse for cutting ties so abruptly, but when the spark isn’t there anymore, she’s not going to fake it.

“Was it something I did?” The voice pleads from behind her but she doesn’t offer any form of response to it.

“Cana wait! Let’s talk about this!”

She knows she should turn around, she knows they need to talk but she can’t stop her legs.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You bore me.” The last thing she sees as she walks out the door is tears welling in large amber eyes.

Harsh as it may be, it was the cleanest way to cut the ties before things got too far. She’s not happy with the vanilla relationship anymore. It’s not getting her blood pumping like it used to. She needs something new. Something to draw her in, to challenge her. Pretty as she was, Lucy just wasn’t doing it for her anymore.

“You didn’t have to rip her heart out.” Mira is there with arms crossed and a disappointed look on her face when Cana walks into the locker room. The sobs could be heard from where they were, and she sighs.

“What else was I supposed to do Mira?” It’s a question that doesn’t require an answer, “lead her on when I’m not happy anymore? I’m a Bitch but I’m not that heartless. Better to cut it off now before she gets too attached.”

“You know,” Mira begins with a slight growl in her voice. A lecture is clearly on its way and Cana can’t fucking wait. “There is a thing called tact, use it once in a while.”

“Tact and honesty are the same thing. I’m not going to sugar coat how I feel.” She can see the exasperation on Mira’s face and smirks. She never gets tired of irking her best friend.

“Don’t give me that bullshit Cana. Ever since we started our third year, all you’ve done is fuck around. You’ve screwed almost every girl in our year and yet you still aren’t happy.”

She’s not wrong. The worst decision her parents could have made was sending her to this all girls academy. To Cana it was like a fucking playground of untapped pussy. A theme park of bodies waiting to be ridden.

“We’re heading into the last semester and you still act like the resident playboy. It’s time you started thinking about university. Exams are coming up in a few months.”

“You say this like I’m not prepared.” Cana counters evenly as they head for their next class. The halls are bustling with people, many whom she knows on a personal level but not a single one stands out to her. Everything seems to meld together and the sigh that leaves her lips makes Mira shake her head.

“Because you’re not prepared!” The anger simmering from her friend brings a smirk to her face. Mira was so easy to get riled up.

“I am more than prepared for exams. You should be more worried about your brother. I hear he’s been struggling.”

“Don’t even get me started on him,” Mira shoves her chair back with more force than necessary, “all he cares about is football. That dumbass is going to get a rude awakening when the coach kicks him off the team for his shitty grades.”

“Some big sister you are, not even helping him study.” Cana dodges the eraser aimed her way and laughs.

“I have my hands full taking care of your ass. If it wasn’t for me you’d never eat or have clean clothes. What are you going to do when we go to different universities?”

“Who says I can’t take care of myself?” Cana loves the anger that flashes through cerulean orbs. Of all the girls at this academy, Mira was off limits to her desires. There was an unspoken rule that they were to never be anything more than friends and Cana was alright with this. Mira was more like a sister than a lover to her anyway. “Maybe I just fake it so you’ll take care of me.”

“One of these days I’m going to slap the shit out of you.”

“You love me too much to hurt me.” A counter Mira cannot deny. One by one students pile in and get their things settled and a moment later the bell rings. Cana is already drowning out the monotone professor, her eyes staring out the window until a stillness settles over the room and brings her attention back to the front of the class.

There is a faint knock at the door before it’s pushed to the side. Cana watches, hypnotized, as a girl walks in. Her form is relaxed yet rigid at the same time and she can feel the tension in the air. There are hushed whispers all around her but Cana only focuses on the being captivating her.

She’s beautiful. Her hair, flowing down her back in a waterfall of onyx. Her skin, pale and smooth as marble. Her uniform, though the same as everyone else’s, seems to look so much better on her; seems to fit so much better too.

“Who’s that?”

“She’s so pretty…”

“She must be a transfer.”

The professor clears his throat and silence falls.

“Class, this is our new transfer student. She will be joining your class as of today. Let’s welcome her.”

“Good morning,” her voice is soft and sends a shiver down Cana’s spine. It’s almost lyrical. “My name is Riley Belserion. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jesus could her voice be anymore sexy? The girl bows respectfully as the teacher tells her to find a seat. Her form is lithe, like she works out on the regular, but not so overwhelmingly muscular that it’s takes away from the absolute beauty of her overall figure.

Riley pulls out the chair to the desk in front of her and Cana can’t help the smirk that grows on her face. This couldn’t get any better.

The tap on her shoulder brings Cana from her thoughts and she turns around, sighing inwardly at the scowl on Mira’s face.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t be doing anything stupid. I’ll be doing her.” She retorts and Mira almost chokes but regains her composure within seconds, a worried look in her eyes all of a sudden.

“Excuse me,” the words are powerful, threatening even if Cana had to put a name to it, “what did you just say?” She turns back around and meets Riley’s gaze, her heart jumping up into her throat in the process. Her eyes are cool, calculating.

“I…uh…” Cana can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks and a light chuckle meets her ears.

“Thought so.” Riley smirks and turns back around and Cana isn’t sure whether she wants to punch her or kiss her.

The class continues but all she can do is scoff and do her best not to stare a hole into Riley’s head.

The bell makes her jump as always and she’s nodding absently as the professor informs them of their upcoming exams. Just another day.

Riley is the first to move and Cana can’t help but stare. She’s grace personified and each move she makes has a purpose. Never an unnecessary action.

“I’m Mira, the student council president. It’s nice to meet you.” Mira is the first to break the ice and Riley nods, her steel grey eyes flashing to Cana once before returning to the original source of sound.

“It’s nice to meet you, senpai.” Riley bows and Cana internally screams. This girl was the epitome of sexy and when she uses words like that, she’s just asking for it.

“I’m Cana,” Riley looks to her and raises a brow, “Cana Alberona.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well, senpai.”

“Formalities aren’t necessary Belserion. We’re in the same class. We’re not your elders.” Leave it to Mira to ruin the adorable trait that was started. Cana loves the seniority term. It feeds her ego and sex drive.

“Actually senpai, you’re older than I am.” No further explanation, no details of any kind. Simply facts.

“How old are you kid?” Cana is curious now. This girl looks younger than they are…

“Fifteen.” Another short answer and it’s all Cana can do not to come undone. Jesus she’s barely of age. Imagine the innocent moans that would come out of her mouth. She can feel the heat spreading in the pit of her stomach.

“How are you a third year?” Another voice chimes in and Cana’s attention falls to Levy, the Vice President of the student council and resident book worm.

“I’m Levy by the way,” she smiles. “Levy McGarden.”

“I just moved back to Japan from overseas. Technically speaking, I’m a first year, but I tested into third year curriculum. “

“Makes sense.” Levy rambles on more to herself than to anyone else and Riley turns to leave.

“Our next class is starting, we should go.” Mira speaks for everyone and Cana begrudgingly gets up to follow, only slightly entertained by the wonderful view of Riley’s ass as she walks.

END

Just a little something I threw together with Cana and my OC. If you don’t know about my OC, you can find her as a main character in my fic, The Ties That Bind on ffn. It’s over three years old and the beginning chapters are—in my opinion—trash, but I’ve worked on it for so long and I love that fic as well as Riley and I’m currently still updating it and working on finishing it. So if it piques your interest, feel free to give it a read.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to Political Confessional, a column about the views that Americans are scared to share with their friends and neighbors. If you have a political belief that you’re willing to share with us, fill out this form — we might get in touch.

This week, we spoke with C., a 42-year-old biracial woman who lives in New York City and is a scientific researcher. C originally wrote this:

“I feel very strongly that private schools — especially in a place with very segregated schools, like where I live in NYC — should be massively reformed. I would uphold a change banning these schools or promoting a requirement that an amount equal to the tuition of these schools must be paid into the public school system. This would have to also be upheld with ‘donations’ and monies earned with ‘benefit’ events. OR every private school has to offer a public school or two access to its classes and school offerings (teachers, sports involvement, travel, etc.).”

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Clare Malone: So how did you come to this position?

C: I’ve always felt pretty strongly about it. Just my personality must be one of being hyper-aware of inequality, and that’s why I’m in HIV research. When I was in my 20s and early 30s, before everyone I knew started having children, I was very much pro-public school. And then as some of my friends who are more well off than others decided on private school, there was a huge divergence in thinking. Some parents feel it’s their job to do only what’s best for their child in a vacuum, and then there are other people who feel what’s best for society is what’s best for my child. It was very stark when that started to happen. I didn’t lose friendships over it, but it made me see some people who I was very close to in a different light.

CM: What would you say your social class is?

C: It’s complicated for me. I’m not married to my boyfriend, but we have been dating and together for more than five years and we live together in a a renovated brownstone that’s all ours. Are we the richest people in New York City? No, because we don’t work in finance. But we are extremely lucky and extremely well off. So I would say that we’re on the low end of upper class.

CM: Do you have kids?

C: I don’t have any children of my own. People say, “Well, you don’t have your own kids.” It’s an argument that has only gotten worse as we’ve gotten into this individualistic politics of identity so that I feel even more unable to express my opinion because I don’t have kids. It’s almost to the point where I would have a child just to send them to public school.

CM: What kinds of schools did you go to?

C: I’ve had this discussion with my boyfriend. He knows how I feel because his son goes to a $50,000-a-year high school. I was talking to him about how I felt, and he said, ‘You had a very unique public school experience.’ We had no less than 87 flags of different countries flying in our foyer because it represented our student body. It was minority white, majority black. We had an amazing curriculum. We had a planetarium, and I took oceanography. We offered German, Spanish, Russian, French, Latin.

Who were you and what were your politics if you decided not to send your child there? The kids who went to private school tended to be what would colloquially be termed frat boys. That was the sort of cultural identity that I put on those kinds of kids. They had boats and lake houses and third homes.

CM: Is there any legitimate reason in your eyes for going to private school? For instance, in the milieu you grew up in, what if a kid’s parents were very Catholic and they wanted to send their kid to a particular Catholic school because they wanted him to have a Jesuit education?

C: That’s complicated. I do see subtle nuances in the world even though it may not sound like it! I have a hard time with religious schooling because I don’t like the idea that children, because they’re voiceless and helpless and need the guidance of adults, don’t get to learn things like basic reproductive health. Or experience other cultures. I just don’t like that they’re different curriculums.

CM: I want to go back to that conversation you had with your boyfriend where he says you went to a special kind of public school. Do you accede that point? How do you grapple with the reality of lower middle class people who, given the opportunity to go to a private school, might well choose that option?

C: The only way to make public schools good is to have children go there of all socioeconomic classes. I do think that it’s complicated for people who’ve been given a scholarship to a private school. It’s very hard for me to judge someone who doesn’t have a lot of money who’s been given the opportunity for their child to go to one of these schools. I guess my sympathy always lies with the people who have fewer opportunities. I don’t have a perfect answer. But let’s stop vouchers.

CM: Let’s go to the pretend world where you have control over this. Would you outright abolish private schools?

C: If I could choose a real solution, it would actually be a little less harsh. What it probably would be is that wherever a private school is, it has to have a sister school of children who aren’t given the same opportunity. If parents could push for them to have some of these experiences, I would think that would be a step in the right direction. I think that the hardest thing is that these children are in a bubble and the private school children are in a bubble.

CM: This is a New York City specific question, but there has been some recent controversy over “the test” to get into the city’s specialized public high schools — only seven black kids were admitted to one of the top schools this year …

C: Which makes me want to vomit. It’s gross to me.

CM: So there are even problems in the best of the best public schools — there are a large number of Asian students who get into the best New York City high schools and there’s debate over whether getting rid of the test would diminish opportunities for those students. How do you think about that? How should New York City handle the test?

C: It’s complicated because, listen — I’m biracial. My mother was a tiger mom, she’s Indian and, unfortunately, I was not a good high school student but graduated magna, got on the dean’s list every semester in college. It was definitely because my mother was a tiger mom and I know how to study and that was instilled in me. I understand what these Asian kids are doing and how much pressure their parents put on them, especially if they’re first generation parents and second generation children.

It’s not that I want to take away from them. I just feel that the class issues and the identity issues with African Americans in the United States are unique, that they have for generations been deprived and depressed and removed from any chance of success. We have to acknowledge that. We just absolutely do.

And if that needs to be done through affirmative action, I think it needs to be done through affirmative action. And I think that there is something to be said for being inclusive of all races. I think it benefits even these tiger kids who get into Stuyvesant — their lives are going to be better to have a diverse population around them, to have more white kids, more black kids, more Latinos.

CM: I want to go back to how personal this issue is — people can be in a relationship and have different schools of thought about how to school their kids …

C: My boyfriend is a saint because he listens to my opinions and still knows that I love him and his son just as much as if I shared his opinions 100 percent, so I feel lucky. He co-parents with my stepson’s mother very well, and they had a culture of raising him that I respect. They did what they thought was best for him, so I give way in a different way than I feel politically. I’ve hung out with a couple that have children and those daughters go to private school. I brushed on it lightly, and the mom said, ‘Oh, I lost that battle.’ She was like, ‘I wanted them to go to public school, but these kids are spoiled.’ And those are her own children.

CM: In the world in general but New York City in particular, class differences show themselves pretty clearly. What are factors besides education that you think affect the way children grow up aware of class and privilege? And are there ways to solve the inequality problem outside of simply reforming public and private schools?

C: This was brought up at a diversity evening my boyfriend attended. It came up that for the kids who are there on scholarship, they’re hyper-aware and feel different simply because of things like trips to Utah to go skiing for the weekend. Vacations, I think, are a big sign that you have money. And then probably social activities.

CM: Do you have a person you see on the political scene who represents a vision of education that lines up with your view?

C: I have no idea what any of these political candidates feel about pre-college education. Zero. I know Bernie Sanders wants free college tuition for everyone. I don’t know how they feel about these issues. Politically, I would love for someone to come out and call BS on private school vouchers.

[alliluyevas]

Opinion on Vasily Stalin and also! Do you know much more about how Yakov treated Svetlana and how Vasily treated her?

Oh, man, anon, I’ve been thinking about this ask all day nowand marshalling my thoughts. I actually have a lot of really intense feelingsabout Vasili, and they’re all kind of tangled up together in a conflictingmess. I have a huge amount of sympathy for Vasili as a child, and quite a bitfor him in certain aspects of his adult life as well, but ultimately I alsohave huge issues with who he grew up to be and the choices he made with hislife.

This got EXTREMELY long so the rest is under the cut. CW discussion of abuse, suicide, and alcoholism

I’ll start with Vasili as a child, and what I do find verysympathetic and compelling about him. First of all, I think there’s substantialevidence that Vasili had ADHD—he was extremely hyperactive as a child, whichwas remarked on by various observers and apparently a matter of some concern tohis mother, who was concerned about his development. He also really struggledacademically, from the time he started school, having trouble focusing, completinghomework, and procrastinating on assignments. He consistently got failing tomediocre grades, and eventually transferred from a high school for children ofthe party elite that had a more typical curriculum to military school, and thento air force training when WWII broke out. I don’t think he ever technicallycompleted high school. Kids with ADHD or other learning issues still struggletoday, obviously (I should know, I was one of them, which also makes meidentify a little bit with Vasili’s experiences), but for someone like Vasiliwho was born in the 1920s, there was very little support or even knowledgeavailable.

I think this situation really ties into the other two thingsthat made Vasili’s childhood really difficult and traumatic—his mother’s lossand his father’s abuse of him—because it did affect his relationship with hisparents quite a bit.

Stalin clearly viewed Vasili as a disappointment—he oftencalled him lazy or stupid, both to his face and when complaining about him toothers, including to his teachers. (In a couple very sad instances, he reactedto teachers praising something Vasili had done or expressing concern about himbeing bullied by dismissing their view of Vasili and just putting him downagain). He was also physically violent with his son, including breaking hisnose when he was about fourteen. He also often unfavorably compared Vasili tohis younger sister, who was much more academically gifted and “better behaved”.He was very physically affectionate and cuddly with Svetlana when she waslittle, but almost never with Vasili, who was desperate for his father’sattention and approval and probably deeply hurt by this.

Vasili, on the other hand, seems to have been very close tohis mother. Nadya voiced some concerns to her friends about his academic strugglesand hyperactivity, but she was also very supportive and seems to have tried towork with him on his level rather than view him as deliberately misbehaving oruseless as his father did. She also framed it more as trying to make sure hewas able to succeed and be happy rather than viewing him as shameful ordefective. Nadya was also very affectionate with and protective of her son,often as a response to the way her husband treated him. She seems to haveviewed Vasili as being vulnerable and in need of special attention. I think herdeath was even harder and more traumatic for Vasili than it was for Svetlana,which is saying something. Because Svetlana was still very little, she stillneeded a lot of care on a day-to-day level, so her nanny was there to be asource of comfort and emotional support for her after the loss of her mother,and this continued throughout her childhood. Vasili, who at age eleven didn’tneed as much childcare, was still very vulnerable, but he didn’t have a supportsystem to the extent his sister did. In the first couple years after Nadya’sdeath, he went from a sweet, rambunctious little boy to an awkward, ganglyteenager who had panic attacks, frequently talked about suicide, and starteddrinking heavily at thirteen. A couple of Stalin’s bodyguards were concernedabout him, but it was more emotionally distant—they tried to distract him orwatch him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself, but he certainly wasn’t gettingcuddles or a chance to talk about his emotions. I think after Nadya died Vasilipretty much lost his only consistent source of nurturing, and the only persontreating him as a lovable little child—which at eleven he still very much was.After that, he was expected to start “acting like a man”, and he did clearly tryto emulate the behavior of the adult men in his life, and was very concernedabout their approval. This had disastrous consequences for both him and thepeople around him, because he was exposed to and adopted a lot of reallyharmful behaviors.

So, this leads me to mydiscussion of Vasili as an adult, who was frankly kind of a huge asshole. Thefirst and foremost thing, which I do think is absolutely inexcusable, is thathe was physically violent with several of the women he was in relationshipswith. I don’t think this is entirely surprising, given the environment he grewup in and the messages he was getting from his father about what adult menbehave like with women/people who are weaker than them—but that doesn’t makethat any better. And these are also choices that he made, because Yakov wasnever like that with women, and he was not doomed to be like that. He was also,according to his sister, prone to misogynistic comments in general, as well asanti-Semitism. Also he embezzled money from the Soviet Air Force and wasgenerally kind of an entitled brat who pulled rank and threatened to rat peopleout to his father—which I don’t think is quite as repugnant as the domesticabuse and bigotry but isn’t exactly appealing. Basically, I think the onlything he had going for him was that he was Stalin’s son, even if Stalin didn’tlike him much, and he was willing to take that for all it was worth in order tosucceed in the Stalinist system, even though his life was pretty much constantlyon the verge of falling apart because of his drinking and reckless behavior.And then his father died and it DID fall apart, because the new governmentdropped him like a hot potato and then his health completely shattered and inthe last couple years of his life he had multiple chronic health conditionsrelated to alcoholism and then finally died of liver cirrhosis at the age offorty.

So yeah, I have extremely complicated feelings about Vasili.I do sympathize a lot with his struggles—not just what he went through as achild, which is very sad in of itself, but also he was clearly really sufferingas an adult as a result of that. But I also really despise a lot of what he didand who he was as an adult. Ultimately, I think I feel anger towards him, and quitea bit of disappointment, I’d say? But ultimately primarily sadness. Especiallybecause I have so much respect and love for his mother, and SHE had so muchlove for him, and I think she would have been very, very unhappy to see whatbecame of her sweet little boy—both in terms of what he did to other people andwhat he did to himself.

I’ve exhausted myself and am now in my feelings so you all will get the second half of this post (about Svetlana and her brothers) later.

[gimmetheheadcanons]

Sinners & Scapegoats 3/?

A/N: Beta'd by the lovely and always supportive @siancore. The heart and soul of the Richonne fandom we don't deserve. chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here

3. Worse

Rick abandoned his fruitless teddy bear rescue mission pretty soon after it began. All it took first was an unexpected phone call from his own son to put him to shame. Made impatient by his excitement and wanting to share a piece of news his mother had insisted could wait, Carl Grimes' determined dialling unwittingly drew his delusional dad back to the real world of professional boundaries and paternal promises.

"Carl what did I tell you about bothering your father at work?"

"But mom! I just wanna know when he'll be back!"

"In his own time."

In his own time.

Rick felt the slight from miles away. An attack on his fatherhood, his commitment to his duties. It was the first time Lori had brought their battle to the 'Carl front'. The humiliation of listening helplessly over the line was unbearable to Rick, a man who prided himself in his relationship with his boy, his entire world – the center of the universe

Propelled into action by his hurt and in a desperate bid to prevent any further sullying of his good name, Rick raced all the way home – driving with very little regard to the traffic laws he was charged with reinforcing daily. Halfway into his journey, the righteous anger he felt dissipated, and he was left with an uncomfortable truth – Lori wasn't wrong.

He had a son, a little boy of his own, and whilst Michonne was out there, earning her points as a parent, he had to be dragged back to his. It wasn't right, Rick thought angrily, cursing himself, and not Lori this time, for the situation he had gotten himself into. What was he going to do anyway? Kick down his front door in a fit of rage and proceed to throw down with the mother of his child in front of said child? Over what? A comment that may have been just that – a comment. Entirely harmless, except against his ego, thus rousing his defensiveness.

Rick was exhausted; he hadn't even walked through the door yet and he was already done with this. He thought back to little Sophia, caught up in a world of hurt by the state of her parents' marriage, and he shivered at the thought of ever inflicting a different kind of damage onto his own child.

As inexcusable as it was, sooner rather than later, the tension between him and his wife would overflow and impact Carl's blissful childhood existence. Rick could feel it in his bones, the breaking point approaching. The day he would slip up as a Christian and disrespect his once beloved bride by calling her a fucking spiteful bitch. And Carl would hear him and be forever changed by it.

Unless he put a stop to it first.

There it was again, slithering across his mind. A shameful snake of a thought telling him to go against all he promised before God and a congregation of witnesses.

Divorce.

Rick shuddered at the thought, at losing his family, at bailing on them when things got tough. At ever seeing his son look back at him with weary, world worn eyes instead of the innocent, twinkling blue ones that lit up every time Rick walked through the door.

"Dad!"

"Hey there, champ," Rick yelled back, the cheer in his voice overcompensating for a guilt that sought to choke him. "Heard you had a story for me?"

Carl was twelve, but that didn't stop him from jumping into Rick's arms with a jubilant smile on his young face. He was overjoyed to see his father back so soon after his phone call; not bearing an ounce of ill will for Rick being away for so long in the first place. Rick clung to his son, his perfect little boy, grateful for the hero's welcome he knew he didn't deserve and knowing to cherish it whilst it lasted. Over Carl's shoulder, loomed Lori looking less than thrilled by her husband's return.

"Sorry I'm late," Rick mouthed to her, half expecting the apology not to take, but it did.

Lori Grimes simply shrugged her thin shoulders before leaving for their kitchen. A begrudging acceptance of the situation was all she could muster for him, and Rick immediately knew why: She had been hoping for another hour without him. Rick sighed mournfully.

How did they get here and how does it end?

"Okay dad, you can let go now," Carl said, interrupting Rick's thoughts regarding the dark state of his marriage. The not-quite teen playfully squirmed free from the man who continued to cling onto him, completely unaware of his new existence as a sad relic of a once happy marriage. Embarrassed, Rick quickly apologized and ushered his son to tell his tale.

"My piece got picked for the gallery! Everyone's coming to see it and I need you guys to be free on Thursday. This coming one not the next. At seven."

That was all Carl said but Rick was already lost.

"The what now?"

"At school," Carl said, sounding frustrated with his father's inability to extract the relevant details that made up this supposed good news from the excitable ramblings. Rolling his eyes impatiently, Carl started from the beginning.

"We have a new art teacher. Ms. Anthony."

"Yes, son, that I'm aware of," Rick said, unable to help himself but careful not to betray anything further regarding Michonne.

"Yeah she's from New York and so cool and different. Like waaay more interesting than Mrs. Randal. Man was she a pain! Dad, we were painting bowls of fruit over and over and over again. Things were that bad."

"Hey now, don't be so harsh on old Mrs. Randal, Carl. She's a kindly old woman."

"Yeah, but I'm glad she retired, because if I had to paint one more apple – I would've gladly had a stroke too!"

Rick shamefully chuckled at Mrs. Randal's expense. His son's declaration was undoubtedly dramatic as old Testament damnation. But he was glad to hear Michonne brought some much needed vigor to her new role and ditched the cumbersome curriculum of her predecessor. Back at school, he was never a fan of art and he had a sneaking suspicion the blame lay at Old Lady Randal's feet then too.

"Anyway, Ms. Anthony is awesome. We started a new art project two months ago and she promised if all do great job we'd get to display our work in our own gallery – like the Metropolitan, but right here at Henry Ellis!"

Rick clapped his hands right on cue, signalling to his son how incredibly impressed he was. And in all honesty, he was, especially with how fast Michonne was working to make her stamp on this town. She really was something special.

"And when did your school get a swanky new space for the display of art?"

Carl laughed heartily at the way his father continued to feign ignorance just for his amusement, and Rick grinned back, pleased to make his son's face beam.

"It'll only be for one evening. We get to turn the gym into one with movable screens to divide it up, and then lights on like stands, so people can really see the art. Oh and there will be snacks, for the guests – the moms and dads."

"Wow! And you're saying your piece got picked for this event? That's amazing."

Carl's body shifted uncomfortably at Rick's praise. "Well – we all get to display our work because it's a class thing," he confessed finally, for a moment looking slightly embarrassed at exaggerating his own importance.

"I'm sure your piece will be the best one there," Rick said, reassuring his son, as a parent would, but acutely aware that knowing Carl, he would be proven right. The kid had talent; he had been drawing on any and all surfaces since the day he was big enough to pick up his first crayon. It used to drive Rick and Lori nuts, trying to keep Carl's artistic sensibilities within the confines of a sketchpad, but as the years went on, Rick was glad they never did anything to stop him.

His father's praise had a reinvigorating effect on the boy, and Carl returned to gushing about the upcoming event.

"Ms. Anthony did say mine had real potential. She said I get to put my piece in the center spot because she was so impressed with it."

"That's my boy! Up top!"

Lori walked back into the hallway just in time to witness the celebratory high five between the Grimes men, and Rick was pleased to see her approval. They shared a quiet moment of pure parental pride, glad to shower their son with love, for he was a tribute to the heights they could achieve when their partnership worked.

"We're all so proud of you, sweety," said Lori.

Carl thanked his mother with a hug and it was just as welcoming a sight to Rick as his high-five had been to her. This was worth fighting for, Rick reminded himself, determined to etch this image into his mind for the next time he would be overcome with doubt.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Can I call Shane now that dad knows? You said I could tell him once I told dad."

Lori's face changed at Carl's request. There was an awkward pause before she answered with a tense smile on her face. "Sure baby."

"You know the number still?"

"Duh," Carl said sarcastically before correcting himself for fear of repercussions for his tone. "I mean yes, mom."

Lori sighed before laying out her terms. "Are you going to make sure to head straight up afterwards? Because I need you in your bed in fifteen minutes."

Carl happily agreed with his mother's request.

"Okay then, you can go call Shane," Lori said finally, dismissing Carl who dashed out the room the moment right after the first word and nod.

Left behind with his wife, Rick could feel the stillness in the air.

The mention of his best friend's name shouldn't have had this effect on them, and yet, Rick could feel something was hideously off. Lori looked back at him with brown uncertain eyes and Rick couldn't make sense of why. Or he didn't want to. He wanted to go back to the glorious picture of domestic bliss from mere moments ago.

"He expects us to attend this event. The both of us, together."

She spoke to him with none of that artificial sweetness she saved for him whenever Carl was in their presence.

"And Shane?" Rick regretted it as soon as he asked. His distressed heart cried out for him to stop pursuing this line of questioning.

"He said he'd ask him. I told him not to bother him," Lori said, arms folded over her chest a little too defensive to be casual.

Rick let out a small laugh. There was nothing funny about it. "Why Lori? He's family. Why shouldn't he attend his godson's art exhibition."

"Oh, don't Rick. Don't."

Lori turned on her heel, ready to retreat to the kitchen and leave the start of another argument. But Rick Grimes refused to be left behind.

"What, Lori? What is it that I am doing?" He demanded, following his wife into the kitchen and making sure to shut the door behind him.

Lori swung back around to face her husband, confronting him in a low angry whisper so as to not attract their son's attention. They were so well rehearsed in their bouts, they had specific modes. This was not to be one of their earth shattering "To hell with the neighbors, Carl is at school so bring your worst darling" clashes.

"This!" Lori hissed in a tactically low voice, carrying all the irritation or a much louder one. "You're making me feel bad for trying to spare you your feelings."

Rick let out an empty gasp to convey his utter surprise. "Since when? Also, what feelings?"

"It's not my fault that your son loves your best friend. You shouldn't have a problem with that!" Lori continued, serving up the outrage in tightly contained manner.

Again, none of this was making sense to Rick. He could barely follow the turn this conversation suddenly had taken.

"I don't have a problem with it, Lori," he said, answering honestly and somewhat calmly. "But you seem to. Why wasn't it okay for Carl to call his buddy Shane to tell him his good news? Why do you think that would bother me?"

Rick felt he made his question clear enough for his wife, and for a moment, with perhaps nowhere to hide, Lori Grimes was silenced.

He didn't relish in point scoring during arguments, especially when all he wanted was a sincere response. Lori seemed to agree with him. She ran her hands through her long, messy brown waves; her hair looking more and more frazzled these days to match the unkempt stubble on his chin. The toll of an unhappy home life was becoming apparent on their faces. Leaning against the kitchen counter, she finally answered.

"I don't know why, Rick, I don't know why anything bothers you anymore these days. It just does."

Rick bit his lip angrily at the disgraceful attempt at deflection.

"No Lori. You don't get that do that. Not this time."

The clatter of one unwashed pot against after that Rick sent it went flying into the sink shocked Lori for a moment. But then she let out a completely unironic cackle.

"Do what? Walk on eggshells?" Lori cried, barely able to contain her outrage pointing at her husband's behavior as another exhibit to enter into evidence.

Breathing heavily, Rick wiped the splash back of water droplets from his face. He wasn't angry, he told himself, knowing he was barely keeping it together.

"What's that? Missed my head?"

"Don't," Rick whispered the blood draining from his face.

She knew he would never but said it anyway.

How could she.

Needing a break after landing such a blow, Lori bowed over a little. Her hands resting on her knees and her face artfully hidden under a mess of dark hair instead of owning up to the cruelty of her comments. Rick could hear her sob a little, but was in no mood to comfort her.

"Fine. I'm the bad guy," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. "What else is new?"

"No, I am. And I'll go on being the bad guy, Rick," Lori said, straightening up and staring Rick in the eye. She had a pathetic, exhausted look on her face but an iron will and a tone that matched. Lori had been done recharging her artilleries. "I'll be the bad guy. For caring about my husband. For wanting him not to be bothered at work until he's done. For making sure his son doesn't forget to tell his father news that matters first! A man he barely sees these days anyway!"

Rick took a step back, unprepared, he had been wounded by the accusation of neglect on his part.

"I know I've been busy," Rick admitted, feeling sorry for himself and his actions. This was an argument he had lost back in the car. There was no point in hiding that fact.

"You have," Lori replied, relentless in her criticism, not yet knowing she had overreached and Rick wasn't done.

"But that's not what's going on here," said Rick. He was ready to bring the argument back to his original point.

"And what is then Rick?" Lori asked.

After a pregnant pause, Rick decided to come out with it.

"You don't have to keep Carl from Shane."

Unless there is another reason.

But Rick was momentarily stunned into silence by his wife's speedy interruption. "Okay. I won't, but you don't have to keep forcing yourself to be here."

King of self-imposed amnesia, Rick Grimes ran with the subject change, no longer sure what he was getting at in the first place. Instead he decided that this would be the moment. One that called for a new kind of weapon – sincere openness.

"I'm not. Lori," he said softly, moving towards his wife slowly. "I want to be here, I want to be with my son."

Rick paused for a moment before adding the rest. "And I want to be with my wife, if she'll let me."

Lori did nothing to answer her husband's plea, flinching the moment her reached out to hold her hand. And it was enough for Rick to know that he was on his own in manning the scaffoldings that kept his marriage from falling. Lori would never leave him, but she would never stop trying to drive him out.

"I have to go check on Carl. Make sure he washed up before bed."

Both resigned to their fate for the only reason they could offer up, Lori made way towards the door.

Rick hesitated for a moment before calling out to his wife one more time.

"Lori?"

She didn't turn around to face him, but briefly stopped at the door regardless.

Never an inch.

Rick sighed and swallowed his true words for empty ones. "Tell him I'll be up in a minute to say goodn-."

She was gone before he had finished.

Rick waited until Lori returned downstairs before going up to see his son. He wolfed down the night's leftovers, unheated pasta straight from the plastic container in the fridge, before sprinting up the stairs and into Carl's room.

"Hey kiddo, you all tucked in?"

Carl groaned at his father's babying of him. Rick knew it must've looked strange having one parent enter the room, just as soon as the other left.

"You know I'm too old for tuck-ins dad."

Rick chuckled at his son's response. "Like heck you are."

"You can say hell."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "I know I can."

"But I can't," Carl grumbled, sinking further into his bed at the injustice.

"Yep and don't you forget it."

It was always a little disconcerting how quickly the boy in front of him changed. Less than an hour ago, he was flying into Rick's arms the way he always had. Here, they were embarrassing him at the mere thought of a tuck in and pushing his luck with curse words.

Rick wondered if Shane would let Carl swear around him. Maybe that's what made the kid idolize the carefree, cool cop when compared to stuffy straight and narrow old man. The thought irked him and led him down a rabbit hole he so desperately wished to avoid.

"Hey, by the way, what did Shane say when you called?"

"Not much. It was loud where he was but he said he would come."

The boy was downplaying how disappointed he was that his godfather didn't make a bigger deal about the news. But knowing his friend, Rick imagined the man was three beers in already and in the mood to do the kind of adult entertaining Carl's phone call was keeping him from.

It brought a small petty smile to his face; Carl may think the world of Shane and on the right day his godfather thought the same – but the boy only had one father and that was boring old Rick.

"Hey, proud of you son," Rick said, repeating himself but each time meaning it just the same. "Now I might not get the finer details of something as out there as art, but I know talent when I see it."

"Thanks," Carl replied with a look of genuine affection on his face for Rick's hammy, dorky dad act.

Rick looked at Carl's room, covered in a visual history of his son's artistic journey, from original comic book creations and creepy crawlers to sketches of friends, family and fellow townspeople. He had no idea where his son's artistic sensibilities had come from, it sure as hell didn't run in the Grimes family line. But unlike the men that came before him, Rick was supportive of his son's endeavour. Proud of his creative capabilities and his thoughtful, imaginative nature. As was Lori, and he was grateful to hear Michonne now too.

"So…Any hints as to what this masterpiece of yours is like?"

"You're just gonna have to wait until opening night, like everyone else."

"Wow, that's cold, son," Rick gasped, getting up from Carl's bed and stumbling to door in an exaggerated manner of a wounded soldier.

"Hey dad?" Rick heard Carl call out for him. He turned to face his son, completely serious and ready to attend to his needs. "Just don't make things weird for me at school."

Not knowing how to respond, Rick simply nodded before hitting the light switch off and leaving the room, his anxious mind wondering if Shane had received such a warning from the surly teen that was threatening to take his sweet son's place. Somehow, feeling every bit as wounded as he had pretended to be just a few moments ago, Rick Grimes knew the answer was no and all that did was make him want to take off his oldest friend's head with the dirty pot his wife thought was meant for her.