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whereonceiwasfire · 5 months

Note

If you're game to write a cheese melt (Vlad & Dani father-daughter dynamic) ficlet, I'd love to read one. If not, that's cool :)

*vibrating with excitement* My friend. Your cheese melt art has been living rent free in my head for WEEKS. It's my sincerest pleasure to write a ficlet for this. I hope it's okay that it's an outsider POV, I just had an idea and my brain went brrrrrrr LOL

May I offer you a dysfunctional parent-teacher interview?

Parent-teacher interviews are always a nightmare, but there's one in particular that’s making Amity Middle School’s beloved Ms. Burnell sweat through her shirt. As the time slot nears, her gaze keeps flickering to the clock, her classroom door, back to her nervously interlaced fingers on the desktop.

It’s going to be fine. Perfectly fine.

“This one! Over here! Dad! This is my class!” The excited words, shouted in the syrupy sweet voice of a little girl, sets every nerve on edge, Ms. Burnell’s heart plummeting straight into the pit of her stomach.

Oh lord. Maybe it’s not going to be fine.

Her student comes bounding into the classroom, eyes bright and excited, oversized blue sweater sleeves slipping over her hands, even as she gestures emphatically for her father to follow. Black hair spills out of her ponytail, whipping across her face as she throws herself into a desk across from Ms. Burnell’s with a bright smile.

Her father, on the other hand…

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers strike against the linoleum as the man stops at the threshold of the classroom, cool gaze doing an assessing sweep of the space, expression crinkling in distaste as it does. He doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t make any move to actually step inside the classroom.

Ms. Burnell is the one who clears her throat, pushing to an awkward stand as she extends a hand out to the man.

“Hello, Mr. Masters. Thank you for making the time to come discuss your daughter’s education. I know you’re very busy.”

The man’s eyes slip to her outstretched palm, and for a motifying second, she doesn’t think he’s going to take it. When he finally does, he just gives a brief, cursory shake before swiping his palm off on his suit jacket and striding past her toward his daughter.

Ms. Burnell’s face is all kinds of warm, chest tight with embarassment as she fumbles back to her desk, trying to wrestle herself back into some kind of composure. Still, she barely looks up as she pulls out a folder with Danielle Masters scrawled across the tab.

“Dad! Dad! That one’s mine! Do you see it? Do you like it?” Danielle calls proudly, tugging on her father’s suit sleeve and pointing toward the paintings that are spread out beneath the windows to dry, paper wavy and crinkled.

“Oh, er. That’s actually a good place for us to start,” Ms. Burnell cuts in apologetically.

Mr. Masters gaze snaps from where he’d been examining his daughter’s project, over to her, brows dropped low.

“Why? Is there a problem with my daughter’s work?” The question is sharp, accusatory, and she’s pretty sure her soul shrivels up a little bit at the unguarded disdain in the man’s eyes.

Swallowing hard, sweat beading against the back of her neck, Ms. Burnell resists the urge to immediately take it back. Surely he can see the problem with the piece—isn’t going to make her say it?

It's too scary.

When his challenging gaze doesn’t waver, she forces the words out.

“Uhm. Well. It’s just. Not quite. Appropriate for a sixth grade class?” It pitches up into a question as she gestures vaguely toward Dani’s painting.

It’s a bit sloppy, the layers of paint caked upon each other, the lines hasty and uneven, but the scene itself is clear enough—a little, smiling, white-haired girl in the shadow of some kind of hulking creature, its skin blue, eyes red, sharp fangs bared as its cape flares out to take up the rest of the page.

Ms. Burnell almost set up an appointment for Danielle with the school counselor when she saw it, wondering if Dani felt like she was the little girl, trapped amongst nightmares and “monsters.” She decided against it for the time being, until she could speak with the girl’s father, but that’s proving rather unhelpful so far if the contemptuous way the man is looking at her is any indication.

“Did Danielle complete the assignment?” he asks finally.

“Uhm. Yes.”

“And adhere to the grading criteria?”

“Sh-she did,” Ms. Burnell answers reluctantly.

“Then I don’t see the problem,” he answers, finality in the words as his gaze turns to his daughter. He takes a much softer tone with her, brushing the disorderly strands of hair off her face, an absent domesticity in the way he straightens the ponytail gone lopsided. “I think you did a lovely job, dear.”

“Thank you! I used Alizarin Crimson,” she answers proudly, hair flopping right back into her eyes.

“Excellent choice.”

“Uhm. Well, there’s also the matter of Danielle’s conduct,” Ms. Burnell cuts in.

The man lets out an irritated sigh, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back against one of the desks, one ankle crossed over the other, unimpressed gaze finding Ms. Burnell once more.

“What?” he says, like it’s an inconvenience.

She swallows hard. “She’s been…uhm. Not getting along with some of the other girls.”

“That is so unfair, Mackenzie started it!” Danielle shouts abruptly, popping up to her knees on her chair, palms slapping down against the desktop.

“Well that’s not what Mack—”

The girl keeps going, cutting Ms. Burnell off.

“She said the only reason Eli agreed to play with me at recess was because Joshua dared him too, and I said nuh unh and she said yuh hunh, and I asked how she knew that, and she couldn’t even prove it, it was so obvious she was making it up!”

“Mackenzie told me that you said some pretty unkind words to her, Danielle.”

“Barely! I just said it was a bad look for her to be so jealous of me and just because she looks like she fished her outfit from the same trash bin she got her personality from isn’t any reason to be a jerk.”

Her father’s expression twists into a sharp smirk, amusement lighting his blue eyes, and Ms. Burnell thinks she’s starting to get a better sense of why Danielle is proving to be one of the most challenging students in her class this year.

“We treat people with kindness and respect in this classroom, Dani. Do you think what you said to Mackenzie was kind and respectful?”

“Well…” Dani’s gaze drops, expression pinching in thought, and Ms. Burnell thinks she might actually be getting through to her.

“It doesn’t sound as though this other girl was treating Danielle with kindness and respect,” Mr. Masters answers, the words coming out with a mocking turn, like he finds the concepts incidental at best.

“That’s true. She did start it,” Dani reasserts, turning her gaze up to her dad.

“I’ve spoken to Mackenzie about her part in everything,” Ms. Burnell answers tightly. “But we’re here to talk about Danielle’s conduct. That’s not the only incident of its kind that’s occurred this year and—”

“You know, it sounds to me as though Danielle’s doing just fine,” Mr. Masters says, pushing up to a proper stand, tugging the bottom of his sleeves and smoothing the dark, wrinkleless fabric.

“But—”

“Did she make this girl cry?”

“Well. No, but—”

“And how are my daughter’s academics?” he asks, gaze fixed on hers, sending a chill creeping down her spine.

“Fine, but—”

“Has she gotten into a physical altercation with anyone?”

“Not exactly, but—”

“Started any fires?” he asks, sarcasm and derision dripping from the words.

“No, she hasn’t started any fires.”

“Then I believe this meeting is finished. Thank you for your time, Ms…”

“Burnell,” she answers weakly.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Burnell. Danielle, are you ready to go?”

“Yup!” She pops up to an enthusiastic stand, rushing over to the windows to snatch up her painting, twisting it toward Ms. Burnell. “Can I take this home?”

She gives a heavy sigh, massaging her temples with her fingertips. “Sure, Dani. That's fine.”

“Thanks, Ms. B!” As the girl traipses after her dad, a bounce in her step, horrifying painting swinging at her side, Ms. Burnell can hear the girl still chattering away, even as they pass out of her classroom, voices growing distant. “Do you think I should have made Mackenzie cry?” she asks.

Ms. Burnell is glad she can’t hear the man’s response—she doesn’t even want to know his answer.

#dp ficlet #danny phantom ficlet #cheese melt #danielle phantom #vlad masters #outsider POV #thanks for the ask!#liliande-comics

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milesmoralesdotcom · 2 months

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SHE FELL FIRST, HE FELL HARDER — MILES MORALES (1610) — PART I

miles morales x fem!reader

——————————-

(your pov - @ school)

i walked into my first day of sophomore year, shoving my backpack into my locker because my school decided we shouldn’t be able to carry backpacks in the hall.

(btw in this story miles goes to public school)

although i was very afraid of sophomore year, i was excited for a fresh start, maybe i can try to get back on my feet again. (i’m cooked)

my first hour was cooking class, across the fucking building from my damn locker.

i grabbed my cromebook, folders, and a weird planner thing that was mandatory for my core classes and way too expensive.

i passed popular boys, making my feet quicken, and then i accidentally bumped into this guy, i only saw his shoes, they were red and white jordan’s , they were really cute, but i was in a hurry.

i mumbled a sorry and kept walking, he didn’t even turn around though.

i passed the seniors, which also made me wanna puke.

then i finally found the cooking class, right next to the exit.

i walked in, after the bell, since, again, it was across the FUCKING SCHOOL.

anyway.

my eyes scanned for a seat, the only one being in the very back. yay.

i was pretty quiet, except for around my friends, but i didn’t have any friends in this class.

there was a cute boy, but he had a girlfriend and was very annoying.

there were a few other people i know, most of them were annoying though.

and some people i didn’t know, but none of them were very special.

other than that the teacher was just talking about a slideshow that was mandatory for the school to show.

the classroom had three kitchens in it, they looked kinda old, but they were cute.

and before i knew it four classes had passed and it was lunch time!!

i sat down with my normal lunch friend group, about six people, but the girl i knew best at the table was abby, friends since sixth grade.

they were all laughing while i was zoning out, scanning the lunch room for familiar and unfamiliar faces.

my eyes locked on a very, very handsome boy.

he had chocolate brown skin, big brown eyes, an afro-fade, and he was pretty tall.

and god he was handsome of my god.

i hope i have classes with him, i wonder what classes he takes.

probably weightlifting with those arms

OK BUD.

anyway..

he’s so fucking gorgeous oh my god.

there’s no way he would like me, but..oh god i hope he does

i’m not ugly, right??

no, but not pretty enough for him.

he’s so pretty, god i want him so bad

he was talking with his friend, i knew his friend, he was in my calculus class, i fucking hate that class, but that’s just because i hate math.

he was laughing, he looks so cute while he’s laughing, i wish i was making him laugh.

“throw your trash away, one minute left!!” the lunch monitor yelled, snapping me out of my thoughts.

——————————-

i walked into my last hour, AP studio art, my only AP class.

i looked around, only a few people in here, i hope that one boy is in here, this is my last chance to have a class with him.

“y/n!!” a familiar voice behind her called out, sage, another sixth grade friend.

“hey sage!” she smiled and hugged him.

“how have you been??” he sits down, next to his other friend Gianna, who i sat in front of, we were also friends.

“good, i think i have a crush.” i hid my face.

“already? what’s his name? or she.” he looked at me with a shocked face.

“uhh..about that..” my eyes locked behind gianna, the boy from lunch!! holy shit!!!

——————————-

AUTHORS NOTE

hiii! idk if this is good or not but hopefully it is idk 🧏‍♀️

this is a series btw obviously erm

oh and FREE PALESTINE

anyway bye bye

taglist

@allybuginarug

(if u wanna be added js ask)

#Spotify #accross the spiderverse #miles morales #atsv #miles morales x reader #miles morales fic #miles morales fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfic

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elizzysnow13 · 11 months

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To all the teachers love a neurodivergent kid,

There’s something you’ll never understand the disgust you feel when you can’t get something done, the disappointment in your eyes.

Makes me feel like I’ve lost my entire mind.

Because I’m n like normal kinds, I can’t sit still in class, I don’t write things down, your agenda was always meaningless.

I was always too loud or couldn’t sit still, I was a distraction in everything I did.

You didn’t care that I couldn’t write a sentence on paper.

Just the fact that I never turned anything in.

In senior year you didn’t even know my friend was illiterate.

We have to fight uphill for every piece of “help” we got.

The things my parents had to fight for a room to myself during tests so I could actually think, but somehow the silence was always too much.

So I talked aloud and gave away test answers and even got accused of cheating.

But none of you cared, it wasn’t something you were worried about.

We all have a favorite subject whether it be math, history, english, music, art it doesn’t matter.

Because you took the fun out of every single one.

I love learning but you ruined it.

It had to be graded it had to be scored,

You had to put it in your little box.

It was no longer about learning and now about our test scores.

Which your lucky I was good at

Homework not so much I failed every english class I’ve ever taken, and nobody wondered why

But I went to summer school all four years of high school and had no problem there.

I wonder if that’s because summer school was mostly multiple choice instead of writing essays every week.

When I started sixth grade I had a third grade reading level.

By the end when they tested us again I suddenly had an eleventh grade reading level.

That was also the year they finally tested me to see if I was dyslexic.

Their answer was no but at 23 I still get my d’s,and b’s and 3’s and E’s mixed up.

And lord knows no one can read my handwriting.

So I guess it’s good that I was decent at math.

But my favorite class has always been history, the story of people. How we got here.

I believe that if you don’t know a person's story you can’t truly know them at all.

This is only part of my story.

I haven’t told you all the facts and you’ll probably never get them all.

But it’s a good place to start.

So I hope you all learned something from this.

And the next time you have a student who seems a little different than the rest.

You take the time and the effort to pay attention to them because you might be the only one who does.

Love,

A neurodivergent kid

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sanccharine · 1 year

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03 | getting away with cheating

hogwarts au

pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader genre: fluff, slice of life word count: 2.3k

warnings: implied bad parents

summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu. includes: red velvet’s yeri, ateez’s san, viviz’s sinb, loona's olivia and txt's yeonjun

status: ongoing a/n: i know this short, especially for the wait but,,,,yeah i have nothing RIP

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

Never in your school life—no, in your life—have you woken up this early for anything. But at Eunbi’s request, both you and Yeri were there for breakfast. Despite the grogginess, there was a great advantage, early access! Yeri was scraping every dish as it appeared on her plate. You were not better with your mouth too full to even breathe. The pair of you ate as if you’d been neglecting meals for the past week, as if you hadn’t gorged yourselves the night before.

A loud thump to your right made you jump a meter into the air. Your knees knocked into the table and you let out a muffled whine as silence fell over the hall. Students as well as teachers peered over their meals.

“Nothing to see,” Eunbi grumbled, waving her hand. As if ordered, the commotion began again.

Where there should be plates, there was a huge pile of books. Some of them you recognized. Of course, you did. They were the required materials that you couldn’t buy. Some of them were notebooks on the precipice of falling apart due to the number of sheets sticking out of them. Why these books were here was a mystery to you, as per usual, you shot a confused glance at Yeri. But instead of meeting your look, she was gazing at her plate but not eating.

“I have the textbooks for Transfiguration, Dark Arts and Charms,” Eunbi huffed. She thumbed through the pages of the top book. “They have my notes, so they should be extra helpful. I don’t care if you mess it up, I'm pretty confident with it. For Potions, I’m transferring my notes. There are so many new ingredients with ridiculous instructions. You’ll have to be textbookless for a few weeks,” she sent you a strange look before continuing. “I’m sure you were going to manage that anyway seeing as you have no books, but I will get it to you soon!”

Eunbi stopped. Completely.

After unloading all that information in one go, she froze. Her eyes fixated on the greens out the window, searching for something, before she snapped her fingers.

“Care of Magical Creatures! Right!” she said, finally turning to you. “I didn't take that subject, so I’ve asked my friend to lend his textbook and any materials, so that's settled. Anything else you should probably find in the library or borrow from some other sixth years. But that is all, I think.”

Eunbi nodded, proud of herself, she patted her books.

“You didn’t have to—”

“And if I didn’t, who would? Your parents?” Eunbi scoffed, as she scanned your plate for something. “Your parents suck, that's what I wanted to say last night. They suck. Now, I'll take this as payment, this is breakfast!”

Eunbi stole a chocolate muffin and waved it about as she walked away.

That had to be the most confusing interaction you’ve had with her this year, and it was only the second day. You opened the first book and you scanned her notes. Her handwriting is atrocious, absolutely illegible, but were great notes nonetheless. She was at the top of the class for a reason. On the train, you’d put aside your worries about having zero materials. You couldn’t buy them beforehand and your grades would be horrendous either way, you’d given up. The library and used copies were your best bet for the next two years. But now, you have your textbooks.

Yeri.

She was smiling sheepishly when you turned away from the pile. Before you could start, she held up her spoon to allow her to go first.

“Listen, I only have money to buy you candy and treat you to a meal or two,” Yeri said. “I’m not made of money like San or your parents,” she said the last bit under her breath. She didn’t care to hide her distaste but did it just to make you feel better. “So I had to get creative! Because as Eunbi said, your parents suck.”

With that, she returned to her meal as if she told you what day of the week it was. Matter of factly, unbothered. You didn’t know how to respond.

Logically, you thought to have some sort of scorn against your friends. Especially when they said such things about your parents, they were blood after all. Logically. But your friends were right, all you could do was mumble your thanks and eat your breakfast.

Are you playing this year?

Tryouts were approaching soon. With each passing day, you began to turn the question in your head until you were left with a splitting headache.

Every time you looked at your teammates, you wondered, are you playing this year? When San smiles from across the classroom, yes, you’ll play. When Olivia speaks of playing at the world cup with her eyes shining, you decide, no, you won’t play. When Yeonjun shares his snacks with you at midnight, you entertain the thought of playing one last match beside him.

Every time you found your broom lying motionless under your bed, the question returned to you. Are you playing this year? It was as if your broom was asking you. It was hard to look at it. You hadn’t taken it out since you arrived, not even for a little late-night ride.

When you passed Chaeyoung down the hallway, the question was in her eyes. Are you playing this year? You all but ignored her when she would actually bring it up herself.

The question plagued you everywhere you went. Followed you much like the school ghosts, haunting your every waking moment. Not only that, assignments had begun to pile in and your attention shifted. If you weren’t struggling in classes, then you used your free lessons to catch up. If you weren’t fretting about falling behind, then you were stressing over assignments. If you wanted pointless busy work, you wouldn't have dropped History of Magic.

You were a fool to think you could get by this year by borrowing textbooks, Eunbi may have just saved your life.

Apart from the hefty increase in content and theory, there was the change in spell casting. Non-verbal magic was mandatory in all of your classes. Which is proven to be quite difficult when you can barely manage with verbal magic. You remembered how Tzuyu had levitated your luggage without uttering a word.

Shaking your head away from thoughts that wouldn’t help your homework, you locked your gaze on the shelf above you.

You’d been running laps around the library to find proper references, only minutes away from having a breakdown. The first Dark Arts assignment of the year would be no walk in the park, at least for you. Professor Kwon, having made it his career to make the lives of students absolute hell, decided to give you an essay assignment.

To make matters worse, Chou Tzuyu was there to witness your downward spiral.

Carrying more books than necessary, you rounded a corner and crashed right into her. Books fell all around you, perhaps you didn’t need so many. Their fall boomed down the library, but the small yelp was unmissable. This was the second time Tzuyu had been knocked down because of you. Things are not looking great.

Forgetting your material, you quickly helped her up, tugging her close enough that the ends of your shoes were touching. Much like on the train, you began your line of apologies only for Tzuyu to chuckle and wave them away. She was quick to pat down her robe and straighten her hair.

She looked perfect as usual.

You, on the other hand, must’ve looked like a mad person.

Your shirt was half untucked and some of your buttons were undone, your tie was nowhere to be seen, and not to mention, you were sweating head to toe. Calling you dishevelled would be an understatement. However, you were more worried the perfect would snitch on the state of your uniform.

“It’s fine. I’ll help,” she stopped your racing mind and began picking up the books.

“Thanks,” you mumbled before joining her.

Once you were done, you wordlessly led her to your table in a secluded corner. The table, much like you, was an utter mess. There was already another pile of books and pieces of loose sheets covering almost every inch of the desk. Eunbi’s textbook was haphazardly balanced on your bookbag which was holding your parchment from flying away. Tzuyu sucked in a breath at the sight.

She placed her pile down onto a chair and let her eyes wander over the table. You couldn’t help but fidget with your fingers. Standing aside like a toddler waiting to be scolded. Tzuyu made her way around the table and stopped beside you. She leaned down and gingerly brushed the notes on Eunbi’s textbook.

“Your handwriting is atrocious,” she said, simple and clear.

There was that coldness again.

Clearing your throat, you corrected her. “That's Eunbi’s notes.”

“Her handwriting is atrocious,” just like that, Tzuyu corrected herself. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her honesty. “Kwon’s assignment, right?”

She didn’t wait for your answer before she began to clear out your desk. The books you’d brought together were pushed aside, except one from the middle was dragged out.

“Honestly, you don’t even need references. Definitely not this much,” Tzuyu chuckled to herself. She looked over the pile of books that were already on your desk. “Kwon writes confusing questions to trip us up but everything you need is in the textbook.”

She pushed the textbook onto your parchment and placed your bag on a chair to the right. Leaving three books on your table, the rest were on a pile in the corner that came up to Tzuyu’s shoulder.

“I don’t doubt Eunbi’s notes, they are thorough. So you don’t need the references but they will increase your grade, easy marks,” she moved to the book in the middle and flipped it open. Within seconds, she stopped on a page. Tzuyu looked up with a dead stare. “This was open like this.”

Happy with her work, she stepped back near the ginormous pile and smiled at your now tidy desk.

Did the top of the year, miss prefect herself, give you the answers?

Isn’t that cheating? You wanted to ask, but you didn’t.

You were no saint, you’ve done your fair share of copying and have been caught red-handed many times. So much so, you doubted most teachers cared anymore. What startled you was that it was Tzuyu that aided you this time around. But you don’t feel like pushing your luck tonight.

“It's a simple assignment. I’m just helping,” Tzuyu said as if she'd read your mind. “Besides, if Kwon wants unique answers he needs to ask unique questions. Got to change that if you don’t want your students copying each other.”

You didn’t know what to make of that statement. “Thanks again for this, you didn’t have to—”

Tzuyu shook her head before jutting her chin at Eunbi’s textbook. “You have good friends.” At that, you nodded, a smile forming easily on your face. Tzuyu returned it. “If you don’t understand something, feel free to ask me for help. Or I could have a look over it before class tomorrow, I—”

“Are we friends?”

“—don’t mind tutoring.”

The question had left your lips before you could even process her offer to tutor. Before she even finished her sentence. You wish you could take it back. It would save you the embarrassment of hearing your voice, timid even to your own ears.

Tzuyu paused for a moment, giving you a quick once over before nodding.

“We can be,” Tzuyu said as she hefted the pile of books into her arms.

“Let me help,” you tried to pry the pile from her but she swerved.

“No, no, I got it,” Tzuyu said, not showing any discomfort from the weight of the books. “I’ll take these back.”

She turned to walk away.

“I’m sorry!” You called out, finally remembering that you never apologized properly. Tzuyu stopped with her back to you, waiting for you to continue. “For the bread roll.”

Her shoulders shook as a snort escaped her. Shaking her head, she said. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watched her walk away from you, swearing you could still hear her chuckle. Once she was out of your sight, you sat down and flattened your parchment. Tzuyu was right, this was a simple assignment and you have great friends. With newfound determination, you began the essay that was due the next afternoon.

The next morning, you woke up early again. Something else adds to the skip in your step apart from the promise of a delicious breakfast.

You were there at the Great Hall, your parchment clutched in your hands. Perhaps for the first time in your academic life, were you proud of the work you’d completed?

You waited.

Not for food, not for your friends.

And you kept waiting.

You tried not to show your disappointment on your face when San took a look at your assignment instead.

Because Chou Tzuyu never came.

Good reference.

That comment scribbled in cursive was probably the closest thing to a compliment from Kwon.

You were elated. Or at least, you wanted to be, but all you could feel was shock.

The number at the top of your assignment only added to your situation.

“No way!” Yeri yanked your assignment from your hands before jumping over the Slytherin table. She huffed out again. “There is no way.”

San and Yeonjun seemed to materialize out of nowhere at her side, pressed shoulder to shoulder. They too, in shock, stared at the grade.

“Is this real?” Yeonjun asked with a smirk. You had to hold yourself back from jumping over the table and tackling him, but you shared the sentiment. It didn’t feel real.

“I think this is the highest grade you’ve gotten,” San said, befuddled. He gingerly picked your assignment from Yeri’s still hands and read the comments. “Like ever.”

“Yeah,” was all you said as you turned over to the Hufflepuff table.

Tzuyu was already staring at you, a knowing smile on her lips before she turned back to her friends.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i say this every time,,,,and you will keep hearing it,,,,,sorry for taking so long ;-;

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

send an ask to be added !

#mishaps gone right #mala's collection #sanccharine #tzuyu x reader #twice x reader #twice fluff #tzuyu fluff #jype twice #twice imagines #tzuyu imagines

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sunnyrealist · 1 month

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Chapter 37: The First Fight

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Chapter Background and Summary: Sebastian and Kate are on an adventurous camping trip in the Scottish Highlands. On the third day, the lovers explore a hidden cave. Attempting to feed off of their emotions, a horde of Dementors create an illusion depicting the couple's greatest fantasies and worst fears. When Sebastian passes out, Kate protects them both, getting them both to safety. When he wakes, they have a lot to unpack. Sebastian finally tells Kate more about his unimaginably horrific experiences in Azkaban and reveals his ever-present self-doubt. Kate's subsequent words of unwavering support, positivity, and adoration lift him from the depths of his sorrow, and it all results in intense lovemaking. Filled with happiness, Sebastian stupidly proposes without thinking; Kate tells him she wants to marry him but won't accept until he plans and does it right.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x Kate Mayflower (my OC)

Content warnings: In general, this story is rated 18+, so MNDI. This chapter features the couple's first argument, the hypothetical idea of parental disapproval, feelings of extremely low self-esteem, discussion of privilege and status, misunderstandings, and sharp, biting words.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible. 🥰

Chapter 37: The First Fight

Kate and Sebastian finally stop chuckling about their newfound hatred for caves.

“I am rather excited to see the castle, though,” Kate tells him with a grin. "There's bound to be something interesting there if it's so inaccessible. Hopefully it will be safer, though. I think I've had enough danger for a lifetime." She laughs, but she's completely serious. "I've never been in a situation like that in all my life. I... Honestly, I never thought I would need to use anything I learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. Thank goodness for Professor Hecat being a great teacher. You know, she is such a fascinating person."

Sebastian has a brief flash of guilt upon hearing the word safer. He and Kate could have died in the cave if not for her quick thinking. He should have been the one to protect her - and he has mixed feelings about the fact that his girlfriend had to be his protector. It’s obvious that she is still worried and shaken.

He tries to shake those thoughts and kisses her shoulder gently, smiling as she mentions their old teacher. "You must have been a good student in her class, then?"

"I think I earned an Acceptable grade, so, no, not really. I was definitely not one of her star students. I was never a great duelist; no one would have recruited me for Crossed Wands, that illicit dueling club. It was such a poorly kept secret. A couple of my friends joined it - Lottie and Otty. They’re married now, living in America," Kate adds. "Anyway, I know the class wasn't only about dueling. Just like everyone else, I had to practice against a Boggart and learn the Patronus spell and other things." She furrows her brow as she realizes something. "Sebastian... you never learned the Patronus spell, did you? We didn't study that until sixth year... you would have… been in prison."

Sebastian shakes his head slowly. His face is unreadable for a moment before he speaks.

"I did not have the opportunity to learn the Patronus spell," he says quietly. "You're right. I was in prison for sixth year." He sighs. "Not only did they take my freedom and years of my life... but they robbed me of my education as well. That was one of the worst parts."

Kate rubs his back. "Considering how much you love to study and learn, to never have finished your schooling… That is truly a cruel punishment. I mean... of course you're a competent wizard," she notes quickly, hoping not to offend him. "You're more competent than most, really..." She looks up into his eyes. "You would have been a top NEWT student, based on what you've told me about school. It's a shame."

Sebastian's face remains serious but even more sad. He takes a deep breath, exhaling to shake off his melancholy. "I wish I had had the opportunity to finish my schooling," he remarks somberly this time. "But it is what it is. My life is so different than I expected."

Kate's eyebrows raise as she considers his wish. She wonders if, as a Hogwarts staff member, she could advocate for him to finish coursework somehow. She doesn't mention it, as she doesn't want to get his hopes up. She's never even heard of that happening, so it’s incredibly unlikely.

"There is one thing I will say. You may have never graduated, but you are a learned man. Honestly, you're one of the smartest people I know." She offers him a smile. "And you've experienced things that others never will. It's given you a perspective most will never be able to understand."

"You are correct. It has given me a view of the world and humanity that is truly unique. It has changed me in many ways," he admits, meeting her gaze once again. "But I cannot deny that it has hurt my pride, as a wizard. If I am being completely honest, it is something that makes me ashamed and embarrassed... and sometimes angry."

"I understand." Kate nods, looking down.

It’s been a day of misfortune, revelations, and tough conversations. There is still something weighing heavily on her mind, one that has been for quite some time now. It’s not going to make for pleasant conversation, but it eventually must be said, so Kate decides that it might as well happen today.

"I have to be completely honest with you, Bash." There's a pause. "You know how much I love you. But... my family..." She takes a breath. "My family has really high standards. I... I don't know what they are going to think about your past." She takes a breath. "No one will change my mind about you, but... it worries me. I think they are going to be a challenge." She is afraid to meet his eyes. It's going to hurt him, but she has to tell him at some point. Her family is going to ask questions soon - potentially as soon as they return home after their trip.

Sebastian takes a sharp inhale and holds his breath as he processes her words. She's concerned that her family won't accept him, he gathers.

Now, it is her turn to see a flash of anger from him. He clenches his jaw tightly, his entire face hard. "My past," he says, his voice low and cold. "My past should not matter to them. And you know better than anyone that my past doesn't define me. You know who I am now..."

Kate tenses up even more upon seeing his expression and hearing his tone. Her own voice comes out a little squeaky. "O-Of course I know that, Sebastian..." She looks as though she is physically in pain. "But… my parents are going to find out about your past, and... though it doesn't define you, it is part of who you are today. If I don't tell them myself, they'll figure it out on their own. My mum is resourceful. She can find anything out if she puts her mind to it. She knows a lot of people. She's... she's really the obstacle, if I'm honest, Bash. I'm..." she hesitates. "I'm scared. I'm scared of what she'll think."

"Your mother shouldn't even know about my past before I tell her," he barks. "I should be the one to tell your parents... Not you." He looks as though he is struggling to remain in control, his anger seeping out of him in waves. "Is there even a part of you that believes me worthy of your trust and affection?" he growls. “That your parents will find me worthy?”

"Stop it," Kate snaps back, irritated. "You need to cool down. I'm on your side, not working against you." Her brows knit together. "I mean, Sebastian, consider their point of view. Someday, if we become parents, would you be thrilled by the prospect of our daughter marrying an Azkaban escapee who never even graduated from school?" She realizes she's getting heated, too, and takes a moment before she starts again. "I'm more upset about this than you know! You deserve family. If my family is awful about you, I would feel terrible, Sebastian. Terrible for you."

"Yeah, well, whatever," Sebastian replies, bitterness in his voice. "I am an Azkaban escapee, an uneducated dark wizard who only works for the DMLE because I was forced to become a double-agent. And I’m practically a gang member. You're right! I'm not a catch! Why would any parents want their daughter to be with a man who has done the things I have done?" His breath is getting faster now, his hand clenched and shaking with rage and adrenaline. "They'll despise me, and there will be nothing I can do about that. I'm just a lowlife loser, aren't I?!"

"No!" Kate protests. "No, of course not! Bash, please..."

"Face it, Kate," he says coldly. "Your parents are going to look down on me because of my past. Hell, even you are looking down on me right now!" There is a pause as he gathers his thoughts amidst the anger boiling inside. "You know they see everything from their angle of pureblood privilege. And I am pureblood, as if that even fucking matters, but I certainly don't fit into your family's world of status and wealth. I won't fit in. I won't be considered good enough for you!"

Kate begins tearing up silently, unable to speak. Her throat hurts, a sure sign she is going to cry. When she eventually feels the inevitable hot tears sliding down her face, she wipes them and shakily says, "I-I t-think we should take a minute to- to ourselves. I'll... get dinner ready. Please don't follow me."

Sebastian's heart shatters as he watches tears roll down her cheeks, her lips trembling. He's seen Kate cry before, but never like this. She's usually so confident, so collected, but here, in this moment, she is anything but.

Anger still smolders inside of him, but he knows it isn't really directed at her. He knows he needs to calm down. He needs to be better, but he just can't resist another mean comment. "Fine. Go. Be alone! Go cry or whatever it is that you need to do," he spits out, his voice tinged with bitterness.

Kate is mute as she puts her pink dress back on, struggling to tie the bow as her hands shake. Sebastian just observes, simmering and not offering to help. She takes one last look at him, then disappears down into her extendable bag to take some time to calm herself down and think.

He watches her leave with his fists clenched in a white-knuckled grip, tears burning in his eyes. Almost immediately, Sebastian wants to follow her and apologize. He wants to hug her, hold her, wipe her tears... but he just can't. Deep down, his pride is wounded. Is it his fault that she is crying? She always has it together, she is always strong, and here he has reduced her to tears with just a few words. His thoughts are a mix of anger, guilt, and regret as he gets up from the bed and dresses. He opens the tent flap and steps outside to get some air.

The moment Kate reaches the bottom of the ladder, she mutters a silencing charm and allows herself to let loose, sobbing. The situation just isn't fair to anyone, and she knows it's going to be difficult to convince her family about Sebastian's worth. Her mum is so judgmental, and her papa and sister will be concerned more than anything.When some time has passed, she finally begins to prepare for dinner. She'll have to face Sebastian sooner or later, and perhaps after some time and some food, they can have a more civil conversation.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow x oc #post azkaban sebastian #hufflepuff x slytherin #aged up sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy oc #hl oc #hl sebastian #hogwarts legacy romance #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy original character

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key2earth · 6 months

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hi hello & happy happy opening! i'm blue & this is xie ziying, local night terror edward cullen haunting the halls of sua! art student, red hall girl gang stan, & proud owner of a pretty pair of pearly whites that she's putting to dentist unrecommended use outside of regular class hours! here's a barebones profile & more info / plots under the cut, pls like to plot or ask for my d/scord & i’ll be there! 💗

*tw for discussion of blood is marked out in the intro with brackets!

info

addressing these first: her teeth r sharp & she drinks blood... the vamp allegations r true. ( /hj. u will see )

anyway!! she mostly lived a fairly normal life, insofar as having 3 outta 4 ( now 2 out of 3 ) of a family being anomalies would be normal? has a big bro in huitian but their abilities are as different as they come, so the anomaly gene sure is abnormal!

she's always been the black sheep of the family, but only in the way that someone who's unconditionally loved can act out? like deciding to play the violin when you come from a family of pianists, before abandoning that all together, & being the sibling whose teachers keep calling... but the point is. she's grown up being loved by her family, & that sense of self & safe harbour has pretty much tided her through what would otherwise have been some awful memories

those & her chompers it's hard to fight someone if they're willing 2 mike tyson u

speaking of teeth... they're sharp i'm not kidding! has nicked herself many times, but this was also how she figured out how her ability works. pure trial & error & teething pains

so how do those powers work? ( tw blood mention ) basically, a lil sip of blood gives her a power up! if it's her own blood, she gets physically stronger with enhanced condition. if that sip comes from someone else, she adopts/transforms into one property from them, though she doesn't get to choose which! ( tw end )

she's completely fine with her ability & down to use it when needed or entirely unnecessary, though the fact that the fun half of her power is a random grab bag is sometimes to her detriment. she knows this because she's gotten someone's sleep deprived mental state once when she wanted their cool colour-changing irises 💔

at sua bc they had really effective advertising & her grades + power combination was bad enough that she was applying to any college that might take her in. swears she didn't mean to tag along w huitian but she did apply to sua... so...

art student, which means being on her sixth can of bacchus at ass o clock & permanent eyebags, having the worst style intentionally & calling it avant goth

applied to be evo's treasurer but doesn't believe in 'the cause' or wtv that is. she j wanted to mooch money off them. its working!!

personality deets she's got that libra sun ( i see it i like it ) taurus moon ( i want it i got it ) scorpio rising ( goth ariana )! we're starting off goth, but she's unsrs about it. only emo 4 the aesthetics. might be a stoner gal & attends all the house parties when they have good greens. very chill & laidback, lowkey doesn't care about anything until it comes to her art or her ego, then her secret perfectionist self rears its big head! likes a good puzzle but would never help someone else solve one even if they were struggling. lives mostly in the twilight hours & naps thru class. could be spotted on your roof today!

chara inspos are sunny baudelaire, himiko toga if she had a loving family, vampire vibes really

plots

writing that intro has emptied my brain & i only have the usual suspects: besties, enemies, fwbs, exes! red hall hot girls & ppl she's pissing off at evo bc the funds keep disappearing

will update more but i love a brainstorm too we should do that 💗

#nm:intro #⌜𝘚𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘖𝘞𝘕⌟ ☼ ⋰ ziying.

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dank-meme-legend · 7 months

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Hi, Morgan. This you from the future, I am nineteen years old.

If I use too many big words, then please take this letter to the library. I am sure Mrs. Libkins won’t mind reading it to you, or at least helping you figure it out; you’re a very bright girl, after all.

I am nineteen years old, you are six years old. You’re getting a hard time from your teachers. You like to rock in your chair and for whatever reason, everyone around you has a problem with that. I will tell you, even all this time later, I still don’t get what all the fuss is about.

You will be fine, I want to know that. Things will, unfortunately, get worse for you. But you will come out on the other side. You are strong, a very strong girl. I don’t mean to scare you; you will have moments of joy in-between all the pain, but things will be rough for a long time. They never really stop being rough, but things do ease up. You learn how to manage things, how to manage yourself.

For a long time, you will be alone. You’ll be adverse to the other girls in your class in elementary and middle school, but you’ll meet a nice, nerdy girl in a technology class in sixth grade and you will find peace in having a girl on your side. A girl who thinks you’re funny. A girl who tries to understand you the best she can. You two will have bumps in the road, big bumps, even. You’ll go months without talking and you will feel alone again, you will be scared of what being alone means. But it isn’t your fault that your other friends will move away; that is what we call a product of circumstance.

It isn’t your fault.

I’ll tell you about your friends: the girl from your tech class and two others will have the greatest impact, they will get you through school.

The first is a boy with long, curly hair that you mistake for a girl when you first meet him. He cuts his hair in the middle of sixth grade and you were used to it when it was long, you liked it a little better. He is tall, very tall and he gives wonderful hugs. He loves cartoons and he talks about them a lot. He loves Adventure Time and Gravity Falls and other greats, and you will spend a lot of time with him during lunch, looking at fan-art online and listening to him ramble. You’ll fall in love with him, a (not-so) little crush, but it won’t feel right. You’ll think about him often, but the idea of being his girlfriend makes you feel sick. The idea of kissing him or, Heaven forbid, marrying him, are thoughts you avoid when your family asks about him. He moves away during eleventh grade and you don’t get to properly say goodbye. You still call him or message him sometimes, but that’s part of growing up. Things are alright.

And the second is a kid who is very, very short. He tells you that he was a girl in a past life, and that isn’t a completely foreign concept. You met a kid like him in middle school, and that middle school boy was on your side. You were both outcasted for completely separate reasons; you got to see that someone had it worse than you, really worse. That boy from middle school is doing alright now.

But you meet the very, very short boy in high school and you fall in love with the girl he once was in that past life. You couldn’t tell a soul. And you felt relief when he told you he was a boy and not a girl. You couldn’t be liable for being queer.

He is the first person you ever meet you has depression, he says it right out loud on the days where the sky is gray and heavy. And even on the sunniest of days, he was still down. You understood it but you didn’t know how to help. You ask him very literally at thirteen years old, “How can I help make you happy?” and he laughs tiredly and tells you that’s not how it works. You would do anything for him, he becomes your best friend for a short time. (Not for long, don’t worry) You will give up yourself to help him, and you have to gather the pieces of Morgan up again.

You succeed, I told you that you are bright.

Strangely, the nerdy girl who grows up with you becomes the one you fall in love with. But this cannot be denied. You are liable. You tell her and for a moment in time, she is liable in her own way. But nothing ever happens, she beat around the bush of things she wanted, of how she wanted you, to love you.

You decide to get over her and you do it in the worst way possible; you fall in love again, but this love is so, so cruel. This person violates your soul, kicks and punches your heart that is always trying to repair itself. Over and over again, being kicked and ripped to shreds. It hurts, God, does it hurt you. You shouldn’t be hurt, you’re a good person. You don’t deserve to be hurt like you were. You’re over your nerdy best friend, but at what cost?

Things come to a head and the world implodes, you lose that love (for the better, was it really ever love if it hurt so much?) and you lose your best friend for the worst; you don’t talk to her for a long time.

But, even alone, you are okay. You manage, you live and I have always been proud of you for doing so.

Time goes on and spring comes. You’ve always liked springtime. You like the flowers and warm air, and chirping birds outside your window (you called them “spring birds” when you’d hear a certain birdsong. Even as an adult, you still call them that. Some things stay the same, and that’s alright).

With spring, you make amends. You have your nerdy, kind, loving best friend again, but she’s grown up some. So have you.

You make amends and come across springtime as a person. Pretty red hair, a smile that you think about often (you think about it a lot, your heart feels warm when you see it), a soft voice that could be its own birdsong; that’s how you feel about this girl who you would’ve loved to sit with while Mrs. Libkins read stories to you in some other, distant universe.

Morgan, it takes time, but you fall in love for a fifth time. Five has always been your lucky number. You trust springtime, you let her warmth in. She fills up the cracks of your heart with golden sunlight and you begin to trust again. It takes a long time. Sometimes, you push her away. You worry that she will fall into the patterns of those before her, but she doesn’t. You are safe. You grow up and find love and you find safety.

Feels good to know, doesn’t it? You get bullied in school and the world implodes around you, and you are scared. But you have good friends and the sweetest partner you could have ever dreamed of and a bright mind, always. Things turn out alright.

Now, your life isn’t perfect. It definitely is not perfect. But you learn that perfection doesn’t exist. Mom and Dad still fight and your baby sister grows up and you sit together and wait for the storm to pass; wait for the fight to end.

The tiny, waddling baby that you know becomes a big kid and, my goodness, she is cool. You grow up beside her and you help her all that you can. She’s your best friend in her own way, and she always will be.

You are always curious about the world and that doesn’t end. You have good people who ask about your curiosities and who adore your mind.

Morgan, you are small now, and you are worried about the future. But let me tell you one final time: you will be alright.

You will always end up on the other side, even with a few scars or bruises. You will be alright.

With love and big hugs,

Morgan, thirteen years into the future <3

#a letter to my younger self #but I’ve been thinking about this a lot; aboit what I’d say if I could talk to my younger self #specifically myself when bad things in my life began #Mrs Libkins was the name of my elementary school librarian and she was the warmest and most loving person ever #this is about growing up queer and autistic #not the main focus but a good bit of it #other than her. people’s names are kept private #this is me explaining concepts like trans people and other sorts of people to my kid self #the interesting thing about me is that my first queer crush was on a trans guy before he came out #that’s what ‘the girl he once was’ means. I don’t mean to be offensive-I hope that isn’t offensive #but if it is-I can reword it or change it #this is just me talking about my experiences but I still don’t want to harm anyone /gen

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autistic-disabled-poet · 2 months

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Running the Numbers

Kindergarten At a fifth-grade math level, The human calculator. I was running the numbers.

Second grade. Able to skip first. "Two plus seven plus nine plus one million seven hundred eighty-five thousand three hundred and two" While playing popcorn math I was running the numbers.

Third grade. You start getting more homework. "Can you solve this for me?" they say, and I did it every time. I was running the numbers.

Fourth grade. Seen as more of a spectacle by now. "Her brain just works differently," the teacher announced to my classmates. They'd give me a problem and I was running the numbers.

Fifth grade. It started to change. They said I was good, but not enough according to my standards. I couldn't take it- I wanted to be more so I was running the numbers.

Sixth grade. Homeschool will do you in. Seventh, eighth, maybe ninth-grade math. I was freaking out but still, I was running the numbers.

Seventh grade. Suicide, shitty teachers, Covid. Virtual Pre-Algebra was such a wonderful sight. I was still running the numbers.

Eighth Grade, Public school, Algebra 1. Honors classes, GPA. I was doing others' Aleks, so I was running the numbers,

Ninth grade. "It’s so hard!" Friends would say, but I’d disagree and push myself to tears. Trying to get further ahead, I constantly was running the numbers.

Summer before tenth grade. Doing 5 lessons a day, Learning Algebra 2 to get ahead, to move on to PreCalculus. I was running the numbers.

Planning to go to the Governor’s School, maybe arts, maybe science. Planning to be Valedictorian. Planning for college, planning to be a doctor.

Constantly planning, wanting to be more, needing more. I burn out, want to never move from the couch, to quit. I get on a roll, running the numbers. Oh, I long for one minute to be a normal person, not need more, to not be running the numbers.

#autistic academia #autistic things #gifted kid burnout #i'm done #can I quit school yet #bipolar and autistic people have high dropout rates so i have to get through high school and graduate college #so im not part of a statistic #idk though i'm in mental agony #level 2 autistic #im scared i'll drop out of the governors school bc i don't know if ill be able to basically live by myself #governors school #governor's school #i love writing poetry #i love math #i love science #i love writing #poet #poetry #my poetry

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thetwelfthcrow · 3 months

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Or Lewis as the dad of Max' new and soon to be favorite pupil

ohh! it's been a few weeks since school started again and now the parents are invited to the school to meet their kid's teacher. max is exhausted because it's a long day of shaking hands, taking notes, being polite and speaking with a million different people. when he meets lewis, the single parent (or would he be a foster parent?), he feels grateful. lewis is a polite man who clearly wants what's best for his kid without immediately being an ass about max's skills - he's young, sue him. he's graduated alright - or overwhelming him with whatever special treatment his kid needs. lewis is a fresh breath of normalcy in between this all. they can even joke together! and then he leaves, max takes his notes, and he kind of forgets about the meeting in between all other meetings.

it's month's later. max doesn't play favorites, but he absolutely does. the school hosts a christmas market. all the kids spent their art classes making all sorts of pretty things from stones and xmas balls and whatnot, to sell to other parents and grandparents and whoever, under the guise that it will all go to a good cause. lewis' kid had helped pick the cause, pitched it too, because his dad works with this and often takes him to all those cool places meeting cool people. max had been endeared, but hadn't thought all too much about it.

the market itself is heavy and exhausting. max had spent the entire day teaching, then grading stuff, and after a very quick drive home where he barely had enough time for a shower, he's back at school. he's through his sixth red bull - that he sneakily poured into his best teacher mug, handmade by a few kids who used to be in his class, with the ear superglued back after he accidentally put the mug in the dishwasher - and he's still tired as fuck. lewis' kid is doing a presentation about the cause and lewis stands next to him, big smile on his face. when the presentation is over and the market starts, max makes sure to walk to lewis to tell him how good the kid's been doing and that he truly seems passionate. lewis smiles brightly and chats with him for a bit.

minutes turn hours. they haven't left each other's side.

lewis' kid asks lewis if they can buy something, lewis hands him a bit of money and tells him but only things we will use! and lewis' kid nods seriously.

max later finds himself with one of his colleagues, lando, cleaning a bit before they can head home. lando says, 'i don't think i've ever seen you chattin with a parent that long. good company?'

'wasn't that long' max shrugs, 'but yeah, i had to, no? he is the reason we picked this cause, essentially'

'it's been the entire night, max. you've not left his side.'

'is that illegal?' max frowns, crosses his arms too.

'no.' lando smiles big then, 'but unusual, yes.'

[context]

#zhalia's lil' answer chat #Anonymous #primary teacher!max #4433 #otp: not god and his angel

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mariacallous · 1 year

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Update: On March 1, Alexey Moskalev was reportedly arrested. Read more here.

In April of last year, an art teacher in Russia’s Tula region asked her sixth-grade class to draw pictures to show support for the Russian military in Ukraine. When one girl drew an anti-war image instead, the teacher immediately called the police. By the end of the following day, the Russian FSB and child protective services were involved. Now, the student’s single father is facing felony charges, and the student herself is at risk of being sent to live in a shelter.

A resident of Russia’s Tula region is facing felony charges of “discrediting” the Russian army because his sixth-grade daughter made an anti-war drawing in a school art class, according to the independent outlets Spektr and OVD-Info.

Until recently, 54-year-old Alexey Moskalev was a bird breeder in the town of Yefremov, where he was raising his daughter, Masha, on his own. Masha’s mother moved to a different city when her daughter was three years old.

In April 2022, during an art lesson, Masha’s teacher asked the class to draw pictures in support of Russia’s troops in Ukraine. Masha proceeded to draw a Russian flag with the words “No to war” on it, as well as a Ukrainian flag that read “Glory to Ukraine.” The drawing also showed missiles flying from the Russian side towards a woman and her child on the Ukrainian side.

“[After that], the teacher ran to the [school] director, who called the police,” Alexey recounted.

The art teacher immediately threatened my daughter, so when the officers came and were waiting for Masha at the [school] entrance, asking all of the students their first and last names, my daughter immediately realized what was going on. She managed to slip through: she gave a fake name. She came running home, out of breath, and said, ‘Dad, the police almost caught me — I drew a picture!’ She was scared, and I promised that the next day, I would come to her school and wait for her until her classes were over.

The next day, as promised, Alexey came to Masha’s school and waited in the hallway for her. According to him, however, when the school director saw him there, she called the police, who came to the school along with officials from child protective services. The officials took Masha out of her classes and took her, along with her father, to the local police chief. After interrogating Alexey, the officers charged him with “discrediting” the Russian army for posts and comments he had made on social media. He was fined 32,000 rubles (about $430) for a comment that read, “The Russian army. The rapists right next to us.”

That evening, Masha told her father that she was afraid to go to school. He assured her there was nothing to worry about, and she ended up going the following morning. Soon after, Alexey received a call from someone at the school, who told him that Masha had been taken by FSB officers and that he needed to report to the school immediately. “I got dressed and rushed there. I was met by FSB officers. I asked, ‘Where’s my daughter?’ They responded that she was being interviewed in the next office over. For three and a half hours, they told me that I’m raising my daughter incorrectly; they said they were going to take her from me and put me in jail,” said Alexey.

After that, Masha stopped going to school. Then, on the day before New Year’s Eve, police showed up at the family’s home with a search warrant.

On the morning of December 30, I received a call at 7:30 a.m. They mumbled something [unintelligible] on the phone. I was getting ready to go to work. I leaned out the window and was shocked: there were three police cars around our building, two more vehicles on the side, and an Emergency Services Ministry vehicle and firetruck a bit further away. About 12 people. FSB officers and a few police officers got out of the vehicles and started towards the entrance to our building. They had an angle grinder. I immediately knew they were coming for us.

According to Alexey, the officers threw things from the family’s shelves onto the floor, ripped hanging pictures from the walls, and flipped their furniture over. They took 123,000 rubles ($1,655) and $3,150, all of the family’s savings, and took a photo of Masha’s anti-war drawing. They then took Masha to a shelter and Alexey to the FSB office to be interrogated. There, Alexey told journalists, the officers beat his “head against the wall and against the floor” before leaving him in the interrogation room for two and a half hours with the Russian national anthem playing at full volume.

When Alexey began to feel sick, medical workers were called in. “After that, [the FSB officers] showed me a comment my daughter had left on VKontakte: on a post about how ‘our children are dying selflessly [in Ukraine],’ Masha wrote, ‘And how much are they dying for? Two hundred thousand [rubles] a month, or a little more?’” said Alexey.

That same day, the authorities opened a criminal case against Alexey for “discrediting” the Russian army. Because he had previously been convicted of a misdemeanor for committing the same offense less than a year earlier, he’s now facing felony charges, according to his lawyer, Vladimir Biliyenko, who spoke to OVD-Info.

Alexey wasn’t released from the FSB office until later that evening, when he was given a summons to appear at the police station on January 9. The next day, he was able to retrieve Masha from the children’s shelter, and the two left Yefremov. Spektr and OVD-Info didn’t specify where the family is currently located.

Alexey is facing up to three years in prison. His biggest worry, he said, is that if he’s arrested or sentenced to jail time, Masha may be sent back to a state institution (Alexey said he has “no faith” in her other relatives). Lawyer Vladimir Biliyenko said that as a single father, Alexey will likely be able to avoid prison time. “But if the officers decide to be stubborn — our justice system often gives in to what they want — they might put him in prison and send his daughter to an orphanage,” Biliyenko added.

Masha’s situation is far from the first case of legal pressure against a Russian child who doesn’t support the war against Ukraine. According to OVD-Info, criminal cases were opened against eight minors for anti-war statements in 2022. But the total number of students who have faced bullying, harassment, and legal persecution for opposing the war is unknown.

Alexey Moskalev, a single father who became the target of a felony case after his daughter got in trouble at school for drawing an anti-war picture in art class, has been arrested, the independent outlet Spektr reported on Wednesday, citing a person who knows the family.

According to Spektr, police searched the family’s home before arresting Moskalev, and his daughter, Masha, is now home alone. The outlet also reported that police visited the home of a volunteer who has been helping support the family.

Moskalev has previously expressed fears that his arrest could cause his daughter to be sent to live in a shelter.

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ramayantika · 2 years

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When the God of dance is a man, why should I curtail myself from practicing this art?

When I was put into my first Bharatanatyam class as a five year old, I saw a bhaiya dance amidst us. Everyone called him Bhuvan anna. He must have been in the seventh or eighth grade then, and I hope he still dances.

In my thirteen years of learning dance, I was taught by three male dance teachers -- two for Odissi and one for Bharatanatyam. Sanjay Mahanti was my bharatanatyam dance teacher along with Siri Mahanti (both are siblings) who was my main dance teacher. Sanjay sir often took classes for my batch when we did items. I still remember how he noticed me when I was portraying a bashful girl. He smiled at me and asked me to do it again. I am not sure if he remembers me now because I moved out of Vizag at the age of seven. I had seen him dance sometimes when Gurumaa (their mother) would sing and the siblings would dance. I was six then but I was enthralled at his movements. My dance academy had a large Nataraja idol and Sanjay sir reminds me of that idol.

Later, I got enrolled myself in Odissi in the sixth or seventh grade I think under Lucky Mohanty. I had heard of Odissi but never had the opportunity to see it. Truthfully, I never had much of an interest earlier to practice that art form seriously. I took it because there were no good bnat classes in the city I had shifted in. I did Odissi to keep up with my Odia heritage.

My first Odissi stage show was in the seventh grade where I saw him dancing. He was portraying baby Krishna and Yashoda running after him trying to feed him or to stop him from causing mischief. Our group was after his solo performance and I watched by by the wings. A grown man acting like a baby appeared peculiar to me. By the end, I loved how he was portraying Yashoda's maternal love and Krishna's adorable mischief.

After two years, I moved to another city where dance enveloped around me and opened my eyes to traditional artforms. I took up Odissi again in a reputed institution of Kolkata where I learnt for three years under Sourav Samanta. He taught me a Krishna item and he showed all the students a pose where Krishna was standing and giving a side glance to Radha. That look stayed with me after all these years.

And now I continue Odissi with Lucky Mohanty after five years, I guess. I wonder that there are so many male classical dance artists, yet I hardly see boys learning classical dance. Boys who are interested to learn are told to take up western because classical dance is too feminine.

As I write this, I am reminded of two boys who were a part of a dance workshop I took part in the tenth grade. Sadly, I don't recall their names. One of them was an Odissi dancer, that I am sure about. The other guy was perhaps into Odissi or Kathak. In the workshop we were twenty girls I think with those boys. Let's name the Odissi guy A and the other guy B.

Guy A had round frame spectacles, curly hair and his torso movements were fine and fluid like a wave. I don't think my movements are as refined as him. Guy B's movements were quite sharp and crips. He also had sharp eyes. My introverted self never went up to compliment them on their dance and I still regret it.

Male dancers deserve much more respect and recognition. The celebrated artists are surely given a lot of respect in and outside dancing circles but what about the young boys learning dance? Majority of them in their childhood and adolescence are made to hear taunts and obscene insults.

In India, we look up to Ardhanarishwara, the merged forms of Shiva and Parvati. Who are we to conform ourselves and others into strict rules of masculinity and feminity?

#samridhi speaks #danceblr #classical dance #men in dance

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apollos-boyfriend · 2 years

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AYO fellow "gifted" neurodivergent lets go! There is absolutely a link there I think. Every single one of my fellow classmates eventually goes "bro I got a diagnostics finally and it explained a lot". My "gifted" classes were back when the district gave the teachers for those classes a fair budget for more hands on/different study structure classes and man, I really wish more kids nowadays would have the option to explore what studying structures worked for them. Classes would be much more enjoyable, but thats something with economic and budgeting factors for our poor underpaid education system unfortunately.

Thankfully those classes were general requirement for all students! :D However, this was early 2010's, back when there was, at least some semblance of varied classes outside of common core education. I don't think they even teach kids computer sciences anymore with learning excel, SEO usage or any of the other common tools kids should be able to use efficiently. I had one of the last art classes in my school sadly, I am always jealous to hear about how my dad learned all these neat skills in home ec.

no yeah. it makes me so sad, bc that "gifted" curriculum no longer exists. it got shut down a few years ago due to low funding. and. genuinely. those classes were the best thing that ever happened to me. it was one of the first places i actually felt seen, because while it was somewhat math-heavy, it also focused so much on the arts. thinking back on it, it was also just? super accessible? it had fidget toys and kids just weren't punished for "being a distraction". there were quiet areas and little nooks and every staircase had a matching ramp. at least, there were before the building got torn down. they moved the kids to the high school after that, and really, whose fucking bright idea was it to move 50-some clearly neurodivergent elementary-age kids from a building SPECIFICALLY built to accommodate their needs to a high school??

anyways. im rambling. i 100% agree. when i was in middle school, you had to take at least one computer, home ec, art, and woodworking class in sixth grade. i hope they're still required, but knowing how badly my district cuts funds, i doubt it. shit like that's always so depressing to see. when you think about it, some reasons as to why the younger gens act and operate the way they do makes a lot more sense when taking into account the sheer amount of budget cuts on most education programs

#muse talk #anon #man. that place was genuinely my safe haven for most of elementary school LMAO #it makes me sad that other kids wont ever have that experience :(

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burningchandelier · 1 year

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a fun thing about me is when I was in the sixth grade, so twelve years old, I switched schools into an unconventional art school where all the middle-schoolers shared classes and the grades were made up and the rules did not matter. It was chaos.

There was an older girl in my art class who was so goth and so cool and I was ready to gnaw my arm off to get her to notice me because I was in love.

So one day we were on clean-up duty after art class together and she's like "hey new girl, you should totally put this liquid soap on the toilet seat. It will be so funny when somebody sits in it." And I'm like "omgomg you're talking to me. Yes. I will put soap on the seat. I will commit arson for you. Anything you say," but also I have never done anything bad in my life and I am terrified of doing anything wrong. When I was like "What if we get in trouble?" she was like "Oh don't worry-- I'll totally take the blame. It was my idea."

Anyway, Goth Girl was watching and I was basically willing to give her my kidney at that point, so I put the soap on the toilet seat and cued up our elderly music teacher to have a Bad Time later.

The next day, we got a Talking To by our teachers and asked "Who Did the Soap?" and nobody was willing to take the blame. We were all losing our privileges and free time, so I finally stood up and announced that I did it. But. Nobody believed me.

So finally I took the very nice, probably queer art teacher aside and was like: I'M SORRY. I DID IT FOR THE GOTH GIRL. I AM SO SORRY AND I THINK I MIGHT BE GAY.

And the art teacher said that my punishment was switching my specialized Physical Education class to fly fishing, which was their other class and that they would make sure nobody brought the Soap Incident up again.

#the Soap Incident #the time I accidentally came out in middle school #my coming out story I guess #long post #true story #my coming out story involves an art teacher and fly fishing I am such a stereotype

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theliamatienza · 8 months

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Caveat: This is my first post in a while. LOL

Writing has been something that I've been doing since I was 11. From the press conference that I competed in sixth grade, through the help of my English teacher then, Ma'am dela Cruz, it wasn't until high school when my writing fiasco began.

I was part of the Special Program in the Arts in my batch, at least for the first two years in high school when I studied in F. F. Halili National Agricultural School, where I specialized in Creative Writing. Dahil na rin siguro sa guro ko noon, si Ma'am Bautista, I was able to find myself this immersed sa pagsusulat. She taught me how to write news, features, editorials, and she helped us explore our creative side through stories and poetry. It's something I carried when I got back to Manila to continue my studies. Going back here, and being trained in writing, being a writer has been my 'personality.' I can recall reciting poems in my Filipino and English classes when I transferred to C. M. Recto High School. I also took up journalism at some point as my elective, and that helped me cement my passion on becoming a writer.

Senior high school came, and I started delving deeper into romances and how my experiences with my relationships translated into poetry, and four years later, Soundless Screams was born. It wasn't a debut that I anticipated, because it wasn't until the week it came out I decided to put it out (halata naman sa editing, eme HSHSHAHSHAHA). It was a multitude of teenage romances compacted into this poetry that helped me pursue this further. The idea of Soundless Screams evolved due to the time that I was (trigger warning) groomed, and at the time, I just wasn't able to talk about it more. But ironically, I found my voice through it.

I know college, especially my field which is International Studies, will be heavy in writing—well, technical writing to say the least. Ayaw ko namang ma-burn out, so I had a plan—that is to give myself time to do the next one, kasi ayaw ko rin namang matapos sa Soundless Screams ang career ko because I'm not that person anymore. I failed to do that plan. I was in a relationship, and basically I threw everything out of the window. I know I wanted to write something that's the complete opposite of that teenage heartbreak Soundless Screams emulated. Destinations was my title in mind, because I truly believed that it was destiny, and for two years, I really thought it was. Turns out, I was in the wrong direction. Well, Destinations was at a time that I was happy with who I am, and it helped me realize a different side of who I was.

The relationship didn't work out, and at the time, I was certain that I'm taking a break for writing. But just a month after that situation, Lost in Transit was already in the works. It was the quickest one I made—Soundless Screams is basically a collection I collated since high school, and Destinations had some happy pieces I did in high school, but is pretty much centered to what my relationship has been like at the time. Lost in Transit is done in a span of three months, half of which has been written on the aftermath of the release of Taylor Swift's 'Midnights,' and that inspired me to use my 'eras' for my creative shot. Lost in Transit is quite ironic, because initially it was the antithesis of Destinations, for I was emotionally lost. Turns out, it helped me find myself, and see myself in a different light. I was proud when I talked about Natalie, what I experienced as a sixteen-year-old boy, and that's the time when I said that, finally I'm starting to heal.

I've been vocal about being passionate with my writings, but Lost in Transit really gave me this connection to what I've written. It's not in a way that I'm just dwelling with my past, but I'm seeing and appreciating my life more—what I've become, what I've gone through, and that strife to do better.

For the longest time, my writing faced things beyond praise. I've been ridiculed, and so are my pieces. There is one instance when they even laughed at my work. Right. In. Front. Of. Me. And to be honest, I've always been on the edge of stopping it. But with what I have now—I know it's not big yet, but I hope I'll be—I know that nothing's gonna stop me. I want to thank my mentors, the people who supported me, the strangers who find themselves through my poetry, and to the people I'll meet as I embark this journey. 🖤💛❤️

I would also like to take this opportunity to announce that my next anthology will be released on August of 2024. It will discuss what was evergreen, what is evergone, and what will everlast. This time around, I want my audience to be indulged in the process of creating this collection. It's bound to be my most personal one yet—where every piece is a piece of me. 💚 Tune in for more details! Next year pa naman so wait niyo na lang eme HAHSHAHAHSHAHAHA!

I wouldn't be here if it weren't for the people I've been with throughout the years and my experiences. I know it's not all unicorns and rainbows—and I will never glorify it—but at least, I found myself, and that's what matters.

Ending my college life with this status makes me feel good, kasi I know that I am on the right track. And it's okay if you don't find yours yet, let it come out of you. Trust me, it will. 💚

PS: Shout out sa braso ni Allen and Cedric HSHAHAHSHAHSHHSHSHSHSHS

—a letter from the manila gay boy 😋💚

#poetry #literature #liam atienza

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epacer · 9 months

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Local

San Diego Unified takes an extra day to recover and repair

The San Diego Unified School District postponed the first day of school so a thorough assessment could be made of damage caused by Tropical Storm Hilary.

While students had one more day of summer vacation, teachers and staff reported to work at the more than 170 campuses across the district.

It was still sprinkling at Hoover High School, Monday morning, when Yosmel Gomez, 16, showed up ready for his first day as a junior. He was not aware classes had been canceled.

“(Am I) disappointed? Not really. It’s kind of weird, you know? I wasn’t expecting this," he said before walking home.

In the main office at Millennial Tech Middle School in the Chollas View neighborhood, there was a soaked carpet that had to be dried with an industrial vacuum.

Water seeped into the administration building on Sunday evening. It also leaked from the ceiling into Sarah Hillard's science classroom.

Stormwater soaked the main office carpeting Sunday at Millennial Tech Middle School, San Diego, Calif., August 21, 2023.

“Everything is a little bit green and kind of gross," Hillard said. "It was definitely all sitting in water when I picked up this bucket, there was water underneath.”

The ceiling leak dripped onto the iPads her students are supposed to use this semester.

“It will be a little disappointing because we were supposed to start our drone unit tomorrow, and these (iPads) are the controllers we use for the drone program,” she said.

This is the first semester Hillard is introducing drone technology to her sixth, seventh, and eighth-grade students. Despite the soggy setback, she plans to use this as a teachable moment with her students when they return tomorrow.

“I think it’s really important to teach the kids about weather, weather patterns, climate, and what is causing hurricanes to occur in a city where they haven’t occurred in the last 80 years,” she said.

Storm water that leaked from the ceiling onto these classroom iPads were damaged at Millennial Tech Middle School and will have to be replaced before students can use them this semester, in San Diego, Calif., August 21, 2023.

Down the hall at Millennial Tech Middle School, Thomas Courtney sat all alone in his classroom double checking lesson plans for his sixth-grade humanities and English language arts classes. There was no damage in his classroom.

“I’m ready to go! What I want is kids in these desks. I want my projects up, kids working, and smiling. I want laughter and I want to get back to learning," Courtney said.

Superintendent Dr. Lamont Jackson posted a message on the San Diego Unified website at: https://www.sandiegounified.org/about/newscenter/all_news/welcoming_students_to_23_24_school_year.

He said in part, "I would like to thank everyone for their understanding during the uncertain weather conditions brought on by Hurricane Hilary that delayed the start of the 2023-24 school year by one day. Preliminary reports indicate minimal damage, and we are making any repairs that may be necessary. We look forward to opening schools to welcome all students on Tuesday, Aug. 22." *Reposted article from KPBS by M.G. Perez on August 21, 2023

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