#why is this math teacher seating us in groups but the other seating us individually

[emersonfreepress]

i swear i wouldn't even know how to describe my character creating process to someone. i was high-key dreading coming up with the personalities for all of the teachers i need to write for the school year, not because it'd be hard but because that takes time.

right now, I'm choosing classroom seating arrangements that make the most sense for the scenes and narratives I have planned for the school year. my seating arrangements are influenced by the subject of the class and which characters the player will be interacting with. but just now... i realized... it makes sense to let the classroom seating arrangements influence the personalities of the teachers, doesn't it? 😂😂

#doesn't it say SO much about a person?? about their style and methods of communication?? #about their thoughts on socializing?? #why is this math teacher seating us in groups but the other seating us individually #literally a preference thing which can inadvertently inform so much about an entire character #and so that's exactly what i'll do LOL #e prep #writing #i'm really only doing it this way because i need to flesh out some simple personalities real quick -- otherwise i'd stew on things more lol #it definitely was not this easy developing the parents 😆 oh god #also i'm like ✨writing✨ a lot today that's why i can't shut up about stuff 🤣

[bandaigaeru]

comfort place - yang jeongin

→genre: friends to lovers →synopsis: comfort can manifest itself in many forms. some find it in the fantastical world of the arts. others find it in sports. but, for you, comfort is a person.  →word count: 6.5k →pairing: jeongin x gender neutral reader →warnings: drunk jeongin, mentions of puking

i. 

“Why are you doing that?” 

“Doing what?” 

“That,” your eyes go wide as you nod at his stature. He’s hunched over your trash can. Blue gloves shield his hands as he digs. 

“Oh. I think I lost my earring or something.” 

“And your first instinct was to search my trash can?” you quirk an eyebrow. Perhaps you should mention that this isn’t just any trash can, it’s your kitchen one. Full of discarded, burnt ramen and your roommate’s weird protein shakes that will clog your drain otherwise. 

He nods, as though this is the most normal first step to a lost earring. Yang Jeongin is many things, but being questionable is one of his strongest traits. 

You slip behind him to get to the fridge. Water bottles line the right half, more commonly known as your roommate’s side. You reach for one. 

“What are you doing on March twenty-fifth?” he asks, arms deep in your trashcan. He’s really going to endure this conversation without a single shred of his pride disappearing. 

You try not to look at him as you glance at the calendar. Two weeks away, the small square for that Saturday reads “NATIONALS” in large red letters. 

You hum to yourself. “Dog sitting.” 

“What?” he looks at you, eyes squinted in confusion, “Why?” 

“Danceracha’s going out of town for the dance contest. I told you this.” 

He exhales a deep, surrendering sigh as he straightens his back and plucks the gloves off. He shakes his hands in the cool air before starting for your sink. The calm stream of water trickles out. “Man. That sucks.” 

“Why?” you question. Your fingertips draw marks of condensation along the plastic. 

“I was gonna invite you to a party,” he mutters. A pout comes to his lips. For a moment, your heart drops. He looks the same as when you met him. All those years, long with memories but short in quantity, whizz past you. 

“Party?” you repeat. 

“Yeah,” he nudges the water stream off. 

Parties and Jeongin don’t mix well. History has proven this. 

“Whose party is it?” you start for the living room, knowing he’ll follow. 

“You don’t know him,” he says, his voice never once fading because, indeed, he’s on your tail. 

“Okay, but what’s his name?” 

“Chan. Actually,” he hesitates, “you might know him.” 

As you sink into the couch, chipped leather scratching your legs, you glance at him. His eyebrows are scrunched into his thinking stance. Then, his features light up once he finds the answer. “Do you remember sophomore year’s biology class?” 

You nod. 

“Remember when that senior came in to make fun of Mr. Lee?” 

Again, you nod. 

“His best friend is Chan. You probably saw them in our freshman yearbook for spirit week. They dressed up as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for Twins Day.” 

Your mouth forms into an acknowledging part. “Got it.” In fact, the recurring image instantly pops into your head. You can thank all the hours spent staring at it with stifled laughter for that. 

“So what’s the party for?” 

He shrugs, “Some college achievement shit.” 

“And you got invited?” you laugh. Jeongin barely made it out of high school. He took one harrowed glance at the local campus and nearly cried. You don’t blame him, though. That place is stressful. Even as a freshman you can say this. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m cool, you know? I don’t need to be in academics for them to know that.” 

“Sure,” you nod. 

“I’m serious!” His lips quirk up in a defensive manner that sends a spark through your chest. 

Among other things, Jeongin is confusing. Questionable and confusing. These are the words you say when someone asks you what he’s like. Because seriously, why does he always do things so infuriating yet endearing? 

He runs a hand through his hair as he unlocks his phone. His thumb works quickly to swipe through a message log before he tilts the phone so you can see. “See?” 

The conversation in question is short, a maximum of four texts. The details blur as he snatches his phone back as quickly as he showed it. Again, infuriating. 

“Are you planning on going alone, then?” 

This question makes him freeze. He stares at the wall wielding a mounted TV, whose black screen reflects the image of him by your side, shoulder to shoulder. A small smile tilts his lips. “I guess. People want me there. So I’ll find my niche.” 

See? Endearing. 

You have no doubts that he can find a place to fit in. He did it in high school and he’ll proceed to do it in the future. That’s just how he is. Plus, maybe he can allow someone else to feel safe too. Like he did for you. 

ii.

High school is a demon with a comforting smile. When you’re forced to transition, they tell you it’s all fun. Sunshine and rainbows, if you will. What they don’t tell you is that luck will always make it so you don’t get any of your friends in your classes. And this, with your contradicting lunch shifts, will slowly force you out of the friend group you had stuck with since elementary school. 

Perpetual tears are stocked behind your eyes. Waiting for the perfect moment to fall because let’s be honest, any minor inconvenience could push you over the edge. Stress does that to you. 

In third period of your second week, your math teacher announces that she’s decided on her seating chart. She makes you line up against the walls as she grabs her reference sheet, lined with the images of desks, names scribbled atop them. “Jeongin,” she says, pointing to a desk in the front row. 

A boy a few feet away from you steps out from the crowd to claim his desk. He’s wearing an oversized maroon hoodie whose back is marked “Yang” in white letters. 

Your teacher stops at the seat next to him. She glances at you and your heart drops. “Y/N,” she points to a desk. 

Sitting up front is worse than the incessant plagues of high school drama. All eyes permanently burn into the back of your head, even when not a single soul acknowledges you. 

As you try to settle into your seat, back a little stiff from trying to shrink yourself into a tiny marble, the boy beside you leans over. “Hey, you okay?” 

For the first time, your eyes lock. His remind you of the innocence of childhood, that blank yet full gaze. You nearly melt, but instead, your back loosens. 

“Yeah. I just don’t like sitting in the front,” you chuckle awkwardly. 

He smiles. Not one of the pity ones, but a real toothy smile. “Aww. Me neither, I always feel like everyone’s watching me.” 

Finally, a person who gets it. 

“But I just have to trick myself into not caring,” he says, glancing at the whiteboard. Shadows of poorly erased marker line the corners. 

Abruptly, after his serene gaze, he jumps back to you. “Do you like coffee by any chance?” 

Despite the initial shock of the question, you say, “Yeah, I do.” 

As it turns out, his family owns this huge coffee shop right next to the bookstore you used to frequent. His mom was rather happy to see a new face. On that day, she accepted you as family. 

And math didn’t turn out to be so hard that year. 

iii.

The apartment grows quiet after Jeongin inevitably has to leave. Your roommate’s dog comes trotting out from his room. His nose is upturned, scouting for a soul to give him attention. 

“Come here, Kkami,” you pat the empty spot on the couch beside you. He runs the rest of the way. Instead of resting on the couch cushion, he prefers your lap. This pickiness he obtained from his owner. 

Hyunjin’s anything but a bad roommate. He does the dishes, sweeps when he finds a large puff of Kkami’s fur traveling your hardwood like a tumbleweed, even brings home coffee when you have a huge study night ahead of you. However, when it comes to you and Jeongin, your mutual hangouts on weekends, he has a very specific need. And that’s to be around you two as little as possible. 

He claims it’s because he can’t stand third-wheeling. Jeongin refuses to understand this concept. “If we’re not dating, it’s not third-wheeling?” he’d said, numerous times. 

Hyunjin won’t budge on the subject. 

The tune set as Jeongin’s ringtone, chosen by him, plagues the air. You reach for your phone, placing a protective hand on Kkami’s side to prevent him from falling. 

“Hello?”

“Problem: What would you do if your brother told you he got a girlfriend?” 

You squint at your reflection in the TV between scene transitions. It looks odd without him beside you. “Which brother?” 

“Guess which one would make me more dumbfounded. Hint, it’s not the older one.” 

“Your younger brother got someone before you?” you snicker. Jeongin holds his pride in his individuality. Losing to a younger brother with something like this is hilarious. 

“This isn’t funny! Should I be a serious big brother and talk to him or should I just seethe in silence?” 

“Neither. Leave him alone.” 

He does something akin to a whine. “But-”

You stick up a finger, though he can’t see you as you interrupt, “C’mon, Jeongin. He’s a teenager. Let him be.” 

Sometimes, it feels like he’s the outsider and you’re the true, reasonable sibling. 

He sighs. You imagine him pushing his hair out of his eyes and staring up at his ceiling. All lost in the possibilities that lay before him, since you and him both know he won’t listen to you. 

“Can I hang up now?” you ask, glancing at the front door. 

“Are you gonna abandon me for your significant other too?” 

You scoff as the front door opens. “You’re ridiculous.” 

Hyunjin steps into the apartment. His hair is damp with sweat and lays jagged in front of his eyes. You raise a hand to wave. 

“It’s a real question, though. You know whoever it is will be jealous of me.” Now, you know, he’s just prodding for a reaction. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Yes, Jeongin. I would one hundred percent drop you for some person who offers emotional stimulation,” you monotonously chide. 

Hyunjin gives you a curious look as he passes. You would think he’d be used to this by now. 

“Okay but,” Jeongin’s voice grows low as he settles onto his bed, “would you really? Tell me you won’t.” 

“I won’t,” you press your back deeper into the couch. It’s not like you’ve had many romantic opportunities since meeting him. Jeongin, though also needy, is more interesting than anyone else you’ve met. He’s a shiny emerald among a sea of charcoal. 

“Good,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. The image of his little dimple indenting makes you mirror the sentiment. 

“Now can I hang up?” 

“Fine,” he sighs.

Through a laugh, you manage, “Goodnight. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” And then the line goes dead. 

iv.

“Are you sure you don’t like him?” must be a trendy replacement for ‘good morning.’ 

“Who?” you ask, rubbing your eye as you start for the cereal cabinet. 

“Jeongin. Who else?” Hyunjin says. He sits at the kitchen table. A plate of freshly heated blueberry waffles sits before him. 

Without turning to him, you say, “I’m sure.” 

It’s a reflex, really. 

He exhales in the most exaggerated way possible to grab your attention. His eyes are cold with the hunger for an answer. A real one. 

“I don’t like him,” you say slowly, allowing each word time to sink into the air. 

The thought has surely crossed your mind. It’d be unrealistic to say you’ve never pondered the great possibility of being in love with your best friend. But ultimately, you don’t think you are. Sure, you’d take a bullet for Jeongin. Just not in the ‘wow I’m madly in love with you’ kind of way. You tell yourself it’s in the ‘you’re going to do so much good for the world’ kind of way. 

“Fine,” Hyunjin admits, picking up one of his waffles and taking a caveman bite. 

Most of breakfast is quiet as you sit opposite him, staring into your bowl. Your milky reflection takes you off guard a few times. 

“You know,” Hyunjin says after a while, his voice raw and a little croaky. He has to bring a hand to cover his mouth as he clears his throat. “You should get him to stay with you while I’m away.” 

As you look back up at him, he adds defensively, “I’m not trying to play Cupid.”

You shrug, “He probably has other plans.” 

Yet when you text him a few hours later, he jumps on it. “It’ll be like a sleepover! Don’t you miss when we did those?” 

You did, but you don’t admit it. 

v.

The week of nationals arrives too quickly for your mind to process. One minute, you’re studying for an upcoming exam and the next there’s a knock on your bedroom door. It doesn’t wait for a sound before opening. 

“Hey, I’m leaving.” 

Hyunjin’s dressed in black sweatpants and a black hoodie, which covers his messy hair. Perfect for his night of sleeping on the bus. A duffel bag packed and puffy hangs off his shoulder. 

“Good luck,” you smile up at him. 

“Thanks. Don’t try sneaking into the venue with your rat like you did last year,” he returns the smile. 

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea,” you rush to defend yourself. 

He scoffs. “Yeah, right. You still played into it.” 

“And we got to support you as your lovely friends.” 

“You were the only people cheering during the contemporary dance,” he mumbles, stepping back into the hall. 

“To be fair, we couldn’t realize because we were so involved!” you shout to match the increasing distance. 

“Right!” he calls, a laugh shaking his words. 

Studying is now a failed mission. Every time you glance at the words printed on the textbook’s glossed pages, they just blur together until your mind drifts to Jeongin. When is he coming over? He said he’d be here by seven. It’s roughly a quarter past. He has a key, so it’s not like you have to be free when he gets here.

When you succumb and close the textbook, you hear shuffling in the living room. Shortly followed by Kkami’s familiar barking, which he only pursues when someone’s here. 

The feeling of a generously excited puppy fills you as you follow the source. 

“Hi,” you smile. 

Jeongin has treated himself to a coffee. He must have just worked a shift. 

“Hi,” he hands you the paper cup. 

“Oh, is this for me?” you take it. It’s hot against your palms. 

“Yeah. It’s hot chocolate. Thought you might want it.” 

He drops his backpack, likely stuffed with potential party outfits, by the couch. He stands and scans your face as you take the first sip of the drink. The sweetness takes over and makes you shiver, but the warmth minimizes the shiver to nothing. Surely enough, this is his mother’s hot chocolate. 

“Thank you,” you say, looking into his eyes. The living room light has speckled his eyes with stars.

“Of course.” 

A moment passes of just looking at each other. Not a single word. You’re not even sure if you’re remembering to breathe. 

It breaks when he glances at the TV. “Movie time?” 

Settling on the couch doesn’t take long. He sits close enough to you, resting his head on your shoulder. He’s done this for as long as you remember, but why does it feel so close all of a sudden? 

He chooses the movie. A tradition you’ve established ever since you accidentally chose a movie so repulsively awful you had to take a break from watching movies at all. The teasing was barely bearable. 

Even now, when someone says something similar to that movie, you shiver. 

“Are we feeling sci-fi?” he asks. 

You almost shrug until you remember where his head is. “I don’t care,” you say instead. 

He chooses a romance movie, his safe pick. 

And he falls asleep not even ten minutes in. 

Hyunjin’s question returns to you in neon lights. Certainly, this tight feeling in your chest couldn’t be akin to liking someone. When you like someone, there’s always a telltale sign. There’s a bright moment of realization. That’s never come for you. Even now, all you can do is question. Question. Question. Question. 

vi.

Jeongin’s party outfit is the most conspicuous thing ever. A light blue tee from middle school that has all his classmate’s signatures on the back. Black jeans with holes at the knees. You can’t tell if he’s going to a child’s party or not. 

He catches your tilted gaze, matched with the furrowed eyebrows, and huffs. “Would you rather I get puke on a good shirt?” 

You blink. “I’d rather you not puke on yourself.” 

A noise close to laughter bursts past his lips. “Ha. Funny. I won’t reach that point. I’m thinking people puking on me.” 

You nod. Jeongin’s a lightweight, from what you know. But hey, if it helps him sleep at night. 

He departs after a long phone call with Chan. He offers a little wave as he opens the door. “I’ll give you live updates.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“But I will.” 

And indeed, he follows through. Selfies bombard your phone every three minutes. One is taken with Chan, but it’s so shaky and dark that they look like blobs with highlighted cheeks. 

These only make you more confused. Maybe Hyunjin was right. But you don’t want him to be. Nothing makes you feel more foolish than catching feelings for a friend who is just that. Friend. That painful, heartbreaking word. 

You open Hyunjin’s message log, prepared to reach out and ask if he can help you break down what you’re feeling, but his contact transitions to consuming your entire screen—perfect timing, he’s calling. 

“Hello?” 

“Guess what?” His voice is drowned out by external shouts. 

“What?” 

“We took second place!”

“Congrats,” you smile to yourself, leaning against the couch arm. 

“It’s all thanks to Felix’s freestyle. That surprise category threw us off, but he really came through,” he rambles. He tells you about all his points and each error, which ultimately seem mundane but apparently make a difference in his detail loving mind. 

“Anyway, I just wanted to call. See how you’re doing, you know.”

“I’m doing good,” you nod as though to convince yourself. 

“How’s Jeongin?” 

“At a party,” you say as your phone buzzes again. Another selfie. This time, he’s in a lonesome bathroom and posing in the mirror. A peace sign that surrounds his eye. That stupid dimple makes your heart jump. 

Hyunjin giggles at something on his end and says something not aimed at you. He quickly returns to his serious tone with, “How are you really feeling? Don’t bullshit me.” 

You stifle a laugh. Resting your head on the back of the couch, you glare at the ceiling, “Confused.” 

“About Jeongin?” 

He slips into a quieter place. You sigh. Why are your hands shaking all of a sudden? “Yeah.” 

“Well,” he starts, “I pushed you into thinking about it for a reason.” 

“He doesn’t like me like that.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because friends don’t like friends like that.” 

“But you like him like that, so doesn’t that ruin your statement?” 

You sit in the silence for a minute. “I guess so.” 

His breath is amplified and you can hear each inhale and exhale. “You’ll probably just brush this off, but I think you have a shot.” 

You nod. “Sure. A shot at going to the moon maybe. A shot at Jeongin liking me? No way.” 

“Look, pessimism isn’t gonna get you anywhere. If you’re too much of a pussy to talk to him, I will. But not because I want to, because it’s terrible seeing you sulk,” he mutters. 

A round of applause for your roommate. 

“Just give me some time. I still don’t know if I like him,” you glance at the dog, who’s cuddled up on a pile of blankets. Why can’t your life be that simple? 

“Not trying to force you or anything, but I think you know the answer to that.” 

He’s probably right. It’s not like you can retaliate anyway. There’s a distant knock before he says, “Sorry. I gotta go. I’ll be home tomorrow.” 

The following silence is truly suffocating. 

vii.

That party changes everything. 

Jeongin stumbles home, each step a potential path to faceplanting. It’s this exact stumble that forces him to trip over a box. 

The noise draws you from sleep. Through squinted eyes, you stare at him as he tries to regain his balance. His arms are splayed out, searching for a stable support beam. 

“Jeongin?” you whisper, though you know it’s him. Who else would be drunkenly returning home at, you glance at your phone, three in the morning?

“Y/N,” he gasps. Your voice prompts him to follow it. 

As you stand, he finds his way through the narrow path between couch and coffee table. He throws his arms around you. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles, words meshing together. 

“I missed you too?” It’s only been six hours. 

He holds you at arms length, palms resting on your shoulders. “I love you,” he slurs, eyes drunkenly taking a long blink. 

“I love you too?” 

“No, like, I really love you. ‘The moon is beautiful’ type of stuff,” he nods. 

You’re not sure what he means by this. But it doesn’t matter if you try to question him, because he continues. 

“I think about the future a lot,” he says, hands falling to his sides before he falls onto the couch. “Nothing’s ever consistent. But you’re always there.” 

“That’s-” you begin. 

He wasn’t finished. “I think our wedding would be nice.” 

Now, he goes silent as you stand there in shock. He thinks about that? How often? 

The moment your lips part to ask these things, a light snore escapes his lips. You grab a blanket from your room, the Totoro one he loves, and you gently cover him. You lean over his face. His cheeks are a little swollen, as are his lips. You push his hair away from his eyes before going to your room. You’re careful not to make a noise as you shut the door. 

He’s gone by the time you wake up. For the first twenty-four hours, you shrug it off as a painful hangover he’s just sleeping through. 

Most hangovers don’t last a week, though. 

One time, sitting beneath a sky littered with stars, Jeongin released a deep breath. “Do you think we’ll ever stop being friends?” 

Jeongin’s not insecure about many things, as his philosophy is that if one person finds something unattractive, there’s a hoard who will think otherwise. But this topic is an exception. 

“Unless you do something unthinkably terrible, no,” you mumble. And you truly meant it. 

So, Jeongin: You haven’t done anything unthinkable.Why have you disappeared? 

Life without Jeongin has been incredibly boring. It’s prompted an imminent heartache. Attending class is a lame option considering your bed is so much more comfortable. You never knew missing someone could form a black hole in your body, consuming each grain of energy. 

Hyunjin’s the only reason you’re eating. Since he knows you’re not up for any meal, he brings you snacks and another bottle of water—to add to the mountain of empty bottles on your desk. 

“Do I need to go break his ankles?” Hyunjin asks one day, nearly a month after his tournament. 

You shrug. You know he’s joking, but laughter doesn’t seem to bubble up. It’s lost in the dark cave that is this confusing state. 

“I texted him today. No response yet,” Hyunjin adds. 

You nod. You got the same treatment, but you stopped trying a while ago. 

“Have you gone to the coffee shop? To see his mom or something?” 

You shake your head. “No point in it. He doesn’t tell her much. Plus I don’t want to pin her against him or anything.” 

Hyunjin sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, or offer, or do to help you. Not that you’re a lost cause, but he’s starting to lose the ounce of hope he had. To him, you’re too good for this. Telling and convincing you of that is a difficult task. 

When he leaves you alone, you cry again. At this point, your eyes hurt when you aren’t crying. But hey, at least you’re sleeping nice. The desperate need to escape can do that to you. 

viii.

You tell Hyunjin your conclusion at dinner—something he’s finally tricked you into eating. “I think I love him.” 

He nods. “Yeah. Didn’t we already establish that?” 

You push the noodles around. “I didn’t want to admit it.” 

“Why?” 

Averted gaze set to the ramen, though his remains scalding. “I don’t know.”

He reaches across the table to regain your focus. He knows the noodles aren’t that interesting. “That’s okay. Look, we can go beat his ass if you want. Or we can hunt him down and hold him hostage-”

He stops when he sees the small hint of a smile turning your lips up. One of his own appears, and in his mind, he’s breaking into a congratulatory dance. The crack in the sadness is exposed, and it’s slowly breaking further. All that’s next is revealing the ravine of happiness. 

After dinner, you sit on the couch and decide to watch a movie. Unlike Jeongin, he gives you movie pick. It reminds you of the bitter taste that’s overcome your mouth since he up and left. 

Halfway through the movie, some shitty one Jeongin and you watched a few months ago, Kkami barks at the couch. He looks between you and the crack behind it as if to say, “Hello? Get my bone!” 

You glance at Hyunjin, who also waits for you to get up and retrieve the dog’s lost bone. Normally you take turns with this task, but he seems to have forgotten it’s been his turn for the last five times. 

With a muted sigh, you pull yourself off the couch. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to pause the movie. Jeongin wouldn’t do that.  

You lower yourself to look into the dark tunnel. With a blind hand you swipe against the floor. A small object connects with the palm of your hand. You drag it out. A small metal earring glares back at you. You drop it in the pocket of your hoodie—which was a gift from Jeongin as you drifted into adulthood. You return to the bone search with a sting in your eyes. 

ix.

Happiness is a fragile object. 

At the same hour that Jeongin had said the unthinkable, your phone buzzes loudly against your side. Ultimately, this brings you back to the post-sleep daze as you trudge to answer it. Looking at the contact is the last of your concerns. 

“Hello?” Your voice is raw. A long gulp of water would be kindly appreciated. 

“Hey, Y/N, right?” This is a voice you’ve never heard before. You pull back to look at the contact and, unsurprisingly, there isn’t one. All that stares back is a string of numbers, unique to this person. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hi, sorry for the late call. I’m Chan-” you nearly hang up out of defensive instinct, but you let him finish. “I kind of need a favor right now.” 

“What kind of favor?” 

In the background, there’s a loud retching noise. “Um, so Jeongin, right?” Chan nervously laughs. 

“We’re not really-” you start. 

He interrupts, “I know. But he’s been talking about you nonstop. He’s really a wimp, you know. Actually, I guess I’m not really asking for a favor. I’m doing you a favor.” 

You know where he’s going with this. “I’m sorry, Chan, but I don’t think that’s a-”

“Hush,” he says before his voice distances. 

“Y/N? It’s Y/N?” the familiar, slurred voice asks. 

He wasn’t going to give you an option. Deep down, you’re kind of grateful for that. 

When Chan returns to the phone, he says, “I can send you the address. We’re on the first floor, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I would offer to come pick you up, but I’m babysitting.” At these final words, he laughs. 

You consider waking up Hyunjin to take you—he’s the one with the car—but you think against it when you realize it’s only a five minute walk. 

Despite the daytime weather that is clear sky and sun that hugs your skin, the nighttime 

version is a little less welcoming. Indeed the air is breezeless, but it’s a bitter cold. Grabbing a hoodie would have been smart, but alas. 

Chan opens the door with a smile. “Hi, come on in.” 

He points to a closed door, “Jeongin’s in there. He should be decent. Just a little pukey.” 

You follow his directions, while he starts for the couch. At least he’s allowing privacy, you think. You knock lightly on the door. After a long trial of waiting with no response, you slowly push the door open. 

His cheek is resting on the cold porcelain of the bathtub. Through dazed and squinted eyes, he looks at you. “Hi?” 

“Hey,” you say, stepping into his space for the first time in over a month. Despite the stain of puke on his shirt, you realize that he hasn’t changed much. What physical changes can someone go through in a month? Well. Everything. 

You appreciate your mind for allowing his appearance to never leave. Otherwise, you might have looked at him just now and been disgusted. Because it’s Jeongin, and because of this weird tugging feeling in your chest, you don’t. In its place, you look at him as though he holds the world’s most valuable object. 

He tries to sit up, nearly falls on his face, but manages. “Do you hate me?” 

“No. I don’t think so,” you squat next to him. The familiar weight of his head meets with your shoulder. 

“I shouldn’t say this,” he laughs. His mind is going a mile a minute, but his lips refuse to go at an accompanying speed. “I love you.” 

You stare at the top of his head. “I love you too.” 

“Really?” he lifts his head. He seems to search your eyes for the similar sparkle his hold. 

“Yeah,” you nod. You decide to save your cheesy comments until the morning. No point in wasting them if he won’t remember this when he wakes up. 

“Did you know that I,” he says, trying to lift himself to his feet. He leans a little too far on a foot, prompting you to rush and steady him. “thought you and Hyunjin were dating for the longest time.” He laughs again. 

You squint at him, “Is that why you disappeared?” 

A drunk smile finds his lips and his cheeks glow beneath the bathroom light. “Guilty.” 

“You’re stupid for thinking it’d ever be anyone but you,” you whisper, glancing anywhere but him. You could say this to the mirror too. Stupid for thinking it could be anyone but him. 

He’s ridiculous. Ridiculous enough to allow his smile to drop a little as he leans closer to your face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers. 

You watch as he leans a little bit closer. Bit by bit. You even close your eyes at one point. At the last minute, when his breath begins to mingle with yours, he pulls away. “No. Let me brush my teeth first.” 

You watch in a stunned silence as he stumbles to the living room. “Do you have a spare toothbrush I could use?” he asks Chan. 

Chan responds quietly with, “Yeah, under the sink.” 

You beat Jeongin to it, offering him the packaged toothbrush. 

“Thanks, love,” he says. 

Questionable Jeongin who calls you pet names. You like it, though you’ll try your hardest not to admit it. That’d only feed into his questionable choices. 

Minty Jeongin has sobered up a little bit. Instead of kissing you immediately after rinsing his mouth, he stares. 

“What?” you prompt. 

“Nothing.” 

And then he leans in and kisses you. In all honesty, it’s exactly how you imagined kissing him. There’s no stereotypical sparks. It’s just Jeongin, whose lips happen to be on yours. That’s enough. Afterward, though, you acknowledge that Cloud 9 is beneath your feet. 

x.

Chan drives you and Jeongin back to your apartment after a difficult talk and one final puke. (The puker looks at you when he feels it coming and asks, “Can you hold my hair back?”)

As you’re helping Jeongin out of the car, Chan leans back in the driver seat and glares a strong eye at Jeonign, “Run away again and I will beat your ass.” 

Jeongin chuckles. “Right. Catch me first.” As he says this, he throws his arm over your shoulder for stability. Though, he’s sober enough to walk on his own now. The occasional stumble, sure, but he’s not in dire need of someone to guide him. 

You take it as his way of saying he plans on staying. 

However, when you make it into the apartment, you don’t bear right to the couch. 

Keeping him close will prevent him sneaking out and running away again. That’s a thing of the past, and you’ll make sure of it. 

He doesn’t even complain. 

“Don’t puke on me, please,” you whisper as you climb into bed. He follows shortly after. Arms naturally find your waist as he pulls you closer to him. 

He hums. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Dreamless sleep takes over you, but the entire time you’re aware of his arms and his proximity. In a way, it’s better than dreaming. 

It’s even better when you wake up before him. His lips are a pretty shade of pink and for a moment you forget about his eventful night. You press a light kiss to his cheek. 

His eyes don’t open, nor does he stir. He’s in that beautiful, drunken sleep. You try not to laugh at the thought of his hangover to come. God, he’s going to be so whiny. 

You try to slip out of his arms, but the death grip only becomes tighter. He whines a little, mutters something like, “Don’t go.” 

After a few more minutes of just staring at the sleeping boy, boredom takes over. Yeah, staring is nice and all, whatever, but it reaches a certain intolerable point. Ten minutes is that point. 

You nudge him, “Jeongin, let go. I need to go to the bathroom.” 

“No,” he mutters, burying his face deeper into the pillow. 

“Jeongin.” 

“What?” 

“Let go.” 

His eyes finally open. They hold a small sense of surprise, which prompts you to tease, “What? Do you need a breakdown of what happened? Were you seriously that out of it?” 

“No. Well, a little,” he stumbles over the words. 

“What do you remember?” 

“Puking,” he winces as he laughs. There’s that signature headache. 

“You don’t remember kissing me?” 

Wide eyes stare back at you. His lip shakes as he tries to force words out. “What?” 

You laugh quietly. “Yeah. You did that.” 

“I’m sorry,” he sits up. His vacant arms feel cold. 

“No it’s okay. You only kissed me because I told you I loved you,” you sit up to match him. 

His head turns to look at you. Tufts of hair stick up in an oddly symmetrical way. “Really? Since when?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Time frame is unknown, but I think the feeling might have always been there. So you wasted a month of your life hiding.” 

He tips his head, “Hey now, I had a valid reason.” 

Your eyes squint at him. “It could have been avoided if you answered my texts. Or Hyunjin’s. Or if you checked your voicemail. Or-”

“Okay, I get it,” he nods, leaning in to shut you up. He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say how weird it feels to kiss his best friend—but he’s incredibly excited to get used to it. 

“It’s fine. I think. My grades kind of tanked,” you comment, glancing at your desk. The tower of water bottles still stands. Somewhere buried beneath them are your abandoned papers. 

“Because of me?” his voice is soft, as are his eyes as he fights back the sting of tears. Of all his intentions, this wasn’t one of them. 

This look pains you. “Kinda. I thought I had lost my comfort place.” 

In order to disguise his tears, he pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be good to you. We can make latte art together at the shop and stargaze at stupid hours. Whatever you want.” 

You laugh into his shoulder. “Is that a promise?” 

He sniffles. “Yes. I love you. That’s the second promise.” 

xi.

Hyunjin’s reaction is lackluster. A forced gasp as he waves his hands in surprise. “Wow. I totally didn’t give Chan your number or anything,” he says. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yeah. He called me trying to drop him,” he points at Jeongin, “on me.”

“And you didn’t want to get out of bed?” Jeongin asks, bringing his mug of freshly brewed coffee to his lips. 

“No,” Hyunjin sticks a finger up in defense. “Kkami wouldn’t let me move.” 

What he means is: Yes, I didn’t want to get up but allow me to use my dog as a ploy. 

You and Jeongin share a glance to confirm this thought. You burst out laughing. 

“Do not tell me you’ve developed a couple's telepathy already,” Hyunjin whines, throwing his head back as he begins to pace the kitchen. 

Jeongin begs your stare again. He wiggles his eyebrows to pseudo-communicate. 

“I’m going to retail therapy,” Hyunjin sighs, dragging his keys off the counter before starting for the door. 

A loud fit of laughter fills the air as the door shakes in its frame. 

“He’s so overdramatic,” Jeongin manages, wiping a stray tear away from his eye. 

You allow this time to watch him intently. All of his details flood over you with definitive clarity. His skin has gotten its first film of tan now that spring is in full swing. A change of season which you had missed out on together. It’s okay, he’ll take you to see the cherry blossoms next year. 

“Oh, I found your earring, by the way,” you say when he catches you staring. 

“Really? Where was it?” On instinct, he brings his hand up to his right ear. The lobes are not blinged, but it’s still worth checking. 

“Behind the couch.” 

He gapes at you. “How’d it get back there?” 

“How would I know?” 

You allow a silence to lay upon you as his face twists to think. All at once, it lights up again, “Ah. It was probably when we had that wrestling match. I didn’t have the back on because my ear was itchy or something.” 

Interesting Jeongin. Questionable Jeongin. 

Yang Jeongin is many things. Home. Comfort. Love. Above all else, he’s a friend. Who you happen to kiss from time to time. 

#posted on april fools because surprise haha #also because i don’t think this is my best but eh #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin imagine #jeongin oneshot #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshot #stray kids jeongin #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #bandaigaeru

[chrysocomae]

"Girls and AD/HD

Mrs. Collins’ fourth grade class is sitting quietly doing their math problems. Billy’s pencil breaks for the fourth time that day; he jumps out of his seat and runs to the pencil sharpener on the other side of the room. On the way he notices a cool picture of his favorite basketball star on the cover of a friend’s notebook and picks it up to admire it. His friend yanks it out of his hand and, without thinking of the consequences, Billy blurts out, “You stupid jerk,” interrupting the whole class. Since this is the twenty-fifth incident in the last two weeks, Mrs. Collins has finally had enough and banishes him to the principal’s office. He gets upset and starts arguing with her, not knowing why he’s in trouble again. He just wanted to sharpen his pencil to get his work done.

Sitting quietly in the back of the classroom, Jodi hasn’t noticed any of this commotion. She is looking at a bird outside the window, wondering where it was for the winter and where the rest of its family is. She is startled back into reality by the sound of Mrs. Collin’s voice calling out her name and asking her for the answer to problem number seven. She panics because she has barely gotten through problem two. She smiles sweetly and says softly, “I’m sorry Mrs. Collins, I haven’t finished yet.” Mrs. Collins says, “That’s ok honey, try to work on it now,” thinking to herself that Jodi is “such a nice little girl” but she is a bit slow in math.

Thinking of Billy, she wishes she had a whole classroom full of children like Jodi. By the end of the month, Billy has been tested by the school psychologist and is diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (AD/HD). He sees his family doctor who starts him on the medication, Ritalin. Mrs. Collins and Billy’s parents all see a big difference in Billy’s behavior and schoolwork.

By the end of the school year, Jodi has barely made it through math with a C minus average, but she receives an A in citizenship and gets a great report from Mrs. Collins about what a sweet little girl she is. Over the next few years, Jodi’s parents continue to get similar reports from her teachers; her grades continue to go down in many subjects, even though her parents think of Jodi as a bright girl. The teachers keep telling them that nothing is wrong and not to worry that Jodi is just an average student, implying that they, like most parents, have an inflated view of their daughter’s intelligence. At home, they see Jodi becoming more and more overwhelmed by the amount of schoolwork, unable to organize her work or her personal belongings, and more withdrawn and unhappy.

Up until recently, when most of us heard the phrase “AD/HD,” what came to mind was the picture of hyperactive little boys, like Billy, tearing around the room, bouncing off the walls. Because they made trouble for people, they were noticed and consequently got diagnosed and treated. Even though life for these individuals and their families continued to be challenging and stressful, at least everyone knew what the root of the problem was. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (AD/HD) with hyperactivity and impulsivity is what Billy has and what we commonly think of as AD/HD. But little girls like Jodi, sitting in the back of the class, not bothering anyone, were and are still easily overlooked. Jodi belongs to a group of individuals that we now know do not and never have had hyperactivity and yet still have AD/HD. Kathleen Nadeau, Ph.D. has called these kinds of girls’ people pleasers, especially to parents and teachers. (2000) They try hard to conform to teacher and parental expectations. She said at the national ADDA (Attention Deficit Disorder Association) conference that their AD/HD symptoms often only show up at home after an exhausting effort to “hold it together all day.” (1995)

- Sari Solden, Women With Attention-Deficit Disorder

#actuallly adhd #adhd tag #adhd #adhd problems #adult adhd #adhd women #adhd culture

[complcatedfreak]

we’re soulmates.

in which y/n and peter's class go to MOMA and they discover a big secret.

part one part two

A/N: this is a soulmate au series, which will contain both endgame and infinity war spoilers. however, this part is when they begin. Parts after this will ignore the canon.

Mj: ice cream date tonight??

Ned: I’ll ask but I don’t think it’ll be a problem

Peter: what time? it depends bc of the stark internship

Y/N: i can go :)

 Peter’s smile faltered a bit when Y/N said she could go. Something inside of Peter just wanted to be around her. For the first time since he’d discovered his powers, he considered taking a day off. It was only for a brief moment before he remembered the entire city of New York is probably more important than getting ice cream with a girl he met two days ago. Just probably. Plus, he still got to see her in school and would be able to text all weekend without it being weird, you know, because of the whole groupchat thing. Peter had come to really enjoy texting Y/N. She was funny and always had an appropriate meme for whatever they were discussing. She fit right in with himself, Ned and Mj. It was nice to have her around.

Y/N was happy when Mj sent the ice cream date text to the entire groupchat, rather than the individual message Y/N had woken up to. It was originally supposed to be a ‘get to know you’ hangout session so that the girls of the group could bond, but both ladies quickly agreed it would be more fun if everyone was there. It’d be a nice way for all four of them to relax into a dynamic that worked outside of school. Plus, it would allow for Y/N to get comfortable enough for her to ask to join their group for the class field trip to MOMA that was coming up in a next week. It had only been about a week since she met them, but there was something interesting about each one of them, and it only made Y/N want to continue being around them.

The school day was about as easy as it gets for Peter. It being a Friday meant the teachers wanted to relax just as much as the students did. Maybe even more, considering it was a long weekend. Most of his day was spent trying to catch up on the novel they were reading in English and trying to keep up with the mass flood of text messages from the groupchat. Peter kept thinking about how well Y/N seemed to easily filter into their little nerd group. He was happy to have her there, but something seemed off. A pretty girl like her who’s also funny would never usually pick the three least cool kids in school to hang out with, but here she was. He was grateful she chose them. “What’cha thinking about?” Mj cheerfully interrupted his thought process, while also pulling his eyes away from the pages of the book he was supposed to be reading. “I don’t know how to explain it,” Peter answered, shocking himself. He has never been this open with Mj. “Well, Parker, I’ll listen to whatever first-world problem you have going on for a little bit,” Mj said with a fake smile plastered on her face. Honestly, Peter wanted to tell someone about it, even if it was Mj’s ridiculously sarcastic self. “Mj,” Peter started, wondering how to approach this subject, “my initials match someone’s name, they even had a line through them.” Mj’s face lit up, “PETER WHAT?” She exclaimed, drawing the eyes of everyone in his last period class. “Shut up!” Peter shushed, “It’s not a definite thing, I don’t know her middle name, but the first and last names work out and I’m scared because I kinda like her already, but I’m scared.” Peter was talking way too fast, but it seemed as though Mj understood. “Is it Y/N?” she whispered. Peter’s face immediately went red, “n-no,” Mj smirked as the bell rang, “Whatever, Parker.” “This is the last time I’m telling you anything!” Peter called as she disappeared out of the classroom door.

MJ: y/n you’re joining our MOMA group right

Y/N: is that okay? i don’t wanna intrude

MJ: i mean ur name is already on the sign-up list with is

MJ: *us

Ned: I did that :)

MJ: oh okay im excited for you to join

Why wasn’t Peter answering? After waiting for two hours after MJ’s last text, Y/N began to get insecure about joining the group because she didn’t have his approval. What if he didn’t want her around? What if he didn’t like her? Suddenly feeling very small, Y/n tossed her phone to the other side of her bed, deciding to catch up on her reading for English. She had been lost for the rest of the last unit with the whole transferring schools thing, so she didn’t want to fall behind this time. A few hours passed and she hopped between reading her novel and digging through food in the fridge. She knew she was eating out of nerves and boredom, but hey, what’s a few calories when your potential soulmate may hate you?

Peter quietly closed his bedroom window and quickly pulled off his mask. He didn’t necessarily have to be secretive anymore but walking through the front door in his spidey suit wasn’t something he wanted to risk. Stripping out of the rest of the suit, he made his way to the bathroom. He pulled out his phone to connect to the speaker in the bathroom and noticed the missed texts from the “peter “i drop chemicals because i cant do math” parker” groupchat. Y/N’s joining their MOMA group. Y/N’s joining their MOMA group! Y/N’S JOINING THEIR MOMA GROUP! He fist bumped the air, instantly feeling ten times more excited for the field trip next week. Maybe this would be his chance to find out if her middle name started with the second letter on his wrist. Peter hopes it does. Truthfully, Peter really hopes Y/N is his soulmate. He really likes her.

The weekend flew by for Y/N. Peter finally answered in the groupchat and was equally as excited that she was joining as everyone else. Besides that, it was full of homework and studying. The group did meet up for ice cream on Monday, since they were off, but Peter had to leave early, due to an internship he had with Tony Stark. Y/N liked that he was dedicated to things, as well as the fact that he was intelligent enough to be working for THE Tony Stark. Y/N has decided she really, really likes him. He’s funny, cute and smart? How could she not? He’s also really kind, which Y/N learned while they were out getting ice cream and she dropped hers. Peter instantly offered her his, as well as offered to pay for a new for her. Y/N was too shy to ever let either of those things happen, so she bought herself a new one, but even just the small gesture had her heart fluttering. So, once they got back in school on Tuesday, Y/N felt very comfortable with Peter. They hung out during homeroom, walked to classes together, and hung out at lunch. Y/N thinks Peter even tried to hold her hand because she felt his hand brush hers when they were standing together in the lunch line. She wasn’t sure, though.

To say Peter was distracted when he went out as Spider-Man after school would be an understatement. Of course, he still did his job and did it right, he just did it while recalling every moment he spent with Y/N. He knew it was becoming redundant, but he couldn’t help but to give Happy the run-down about his new updates with his potential soulmate. Happy was annoyed, but Peter thought he detected a small hint of fondness behind his tone. When he got home, Peter had the best sleep of his life. The next morning, he got up, got dressed and ran to Del-Mar’s to make sure he had something to eat on the trip. Then, he made his way to the school to check-in and find his group.

“PARKERRRR,” Ned yelled down the hallway, making both Y/N and Mj jump. Mj turned towards Peter, waved and then flipped him off. Y/N laughed, shooting him a little wave with a smile. “Aren’t you two gonna get hot?” Mj asked, gesturing to Peter’s jacket and the flannel Y/N had thrown over her shirt. “No!” Peter said very defensively. “It makes my outfit cuter,” Y/N pouted. Ned laughed, rolling his eyes at his friends.

Soon, they were all sat in their seats on the bus. Y/N and Mj were across the aisle from Peter and Ned, due to the ‘boys can’t sit with girls’ the bus-driver had instilled. Y/N happily shared her headphones with Mj, showing her new songs as her head rested against the bus window. It was a very short, comfortable bus ride and before they knew it, they were inside of New York’s Museum of Modern Art. Each group broke off, allowing the teenagers to see what they wanted to. Mj and Ned were very adamant about Elle Pérez’s Diablo exhibit, so the group headed there first. Due to their enthusiasm, Ned and Mj strayed ahead of Y/N and Peter, giving them a chance to chat. It was mindless chatter; pointing out pieces they liked along the way, pointing at some creature in the works and saying “it’s you” to each other, things like that. Nothing important.

Until they got to their final exhibit. Peter mindlessly rolled up his sleeve. Mj was right, he was getting hot, and he was too comfortable to remember he was supposed to be hiding his wrist. It was fine for about five minutes, before Y/N let out a gasp. Mj, Ned and Peter turned around to face her. Peter cocked his head, “Are you okay?” Y/N answered quickly: “Can I talk to you?”. Before Peter could even answer she was grabbing the wrist that had her initials across them and dragging him away from their friends, leaving Ned and Mj with confused stares.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked once Y/N freed him from her grip. “Peter,” Y/N’s eyes were wide, as if she was putting on a puppy-face, “my initials are on your wrist. I think yours are on mine.” She tugged the sleeve of her flannel up, showing Peter the crossed-off “PBP” that went across it. Peter broke out into a huge smile, reaching up to run his fingers across the letters. He stared at her wrist for a second before looking her in her eyes, “We’re soulmates.” Y/N nodded at his statement, pulling him in for a hug.

It was time for the ride home. Peter let go of Y/N’s hand for the first time since they had their revelation when it was time to get on the bus. They texted through most of the ride, until Y/N’s phone died. Peter sat and played games on his for a while.

Peter felt the hairs on his arm stand up (the one with Y/N’s initials on it), and immediately looked away from his phone. His eyes landed on the spiral ship behind the bus. He was immediately grateful that he brought his suit, scanning over the bus full of his classmates. His eyes lingered on his soulmate, who met his gaze. She flashed him a smile of reassurance before turning to look back out of the window. Peter tapped Ned, “I need you to cause a distraction.” Ned was panicked before his eyes landed on the ship, “oh shit. WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!” Everyone on the bus began to panic, causing the chaos Peter needed to escape. He waited until Y/N had moved from the seat across the aisle to join the crowd in the back of the bus to web out of it, prepared to help the city, and the avengers, with whatever it needed.

#not edited!!!!! #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker au #peter imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #spider-man #spiderman #spider-man imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #Marvel x Y/N

[things2mustdo]

Face it, the mainstream media is not only full of contradictions, but deep-seated, institutionalized biases. When a male or conservative does something, it is often considered horrendous. Yet when a female, liberal or a member of another “special” group does the same thing, passes are given or journalists’ eyes are averted.

Social media users with common sense political opinions have already started to compile these glaring double standards. Return Of Kings and its supporters should continue doing the same thing.

So here are five of the most egregious recent examples of hypocritical mainstream media madness:

1. Use of dead veterans’ families at political rallies or conventions

When Khizr and Ghazala Khan appeared at the Democratic National Convention to lambaste Donald Trump for his views on Muslim immigration and supposed behavior, commentators and journalists went wild with fanfare. Their son Humayun, a Muslim soldier, had died in Iraq. Trump was attacked for allegedly grandstanding about and minimizing Humayun’s death.

Meanwhile, many of these same newsmen and women, including Rachel Maddow’s stooge Steve Benen, derided the Republicans for featuring Pat Smith, mother of Benghazi fatality Sean Smith, as a speaker at their own Convention. Mrs. Smith had laid into Hillary Clinton over the latter’s role in and perceived indifference to her son’s death in Libya. So one family became heroes to the media for going public after their tragic loss, while another was portrayed as so weak in their grief that they were manipulated by big, bad Republicans into talking.

Moreover, Trump had nothing to do with Sean Smith’s death. Compare this to Clinton, who was the Secretary of State at the time of the American deaths at Benghazi and whose State Department had received numerous calls for assistance. Considering that Sean Smith and others died alongside U.S. Ambassador Christopher Stevens, the first American ambassador to be killed whilst serving since 1979, the woefully insufficient security precautions taken by the Obama Administration and Secretary Clinton should not have transpired. But this spotlight on Clinton does not make for good (liberal) news.

2. Psychiatric records for a war hero vs. medical records of a pathological liar

Countless liberals, both in the media and within other leftist cabals like mainstream Hollywood, have attacked those questioning Hillary Clinton’s health as “misogynists,” “sexists” and other undesirables. When these tags are unable to be used, leftists claim that even piecemeal doubts about her physical condition are nothing but conspiracy theories on par with Roswell UFOs and lizard people running the world.

Yet eight years ago, these same people were frothing at the bit to out John McCain for his supposedly poor health. Most perversely of all, they homed in on his decorated military service, suggesting he had Presidentially disqualifying mental health conditions from his service in the Vietnam War and the multiple years he spent as a prisoner-of-war. “Where are his psychiatric records?” bellowed one piece from Salon, in addition to a number of other articles that more than hinted at the same topic.

Whilst I, like many of you, revile his putrid, watered-down “Republican” policies on many issues, McCain had gargantuan balls in Vietnam. Here is a man who spent more time as a tortured prisoner-of-war, including a stay in the notorious Hanoi Hilton, than Barack Obama spent in the US Senate. As the son of the commander of US forces in Vietnam, McCain received numerous offers of repatriation from the North Vietnamese. He refused and would only accept being returned home once fellow American soldiers captured before him were released. By contrast, Hillary lacks the mental fortitude to tell the truth most of the time, not even after she’s had seizures, coughing fits, and dramatic collapses on camera!

3. Sexualizing political candidates (and removing their genitals)

When an artist by the name of Lushsux painted a mural of a scantily-clad Hillary Clinton, a local Melbourne, Australia council and numerous global commentators derided it as “misogyny” and “sexual objectification.” “Take female politicians seriously!” was the crux of their shrill arguments against the rendering. Lushsux then trolled his critics by repainting the mural so Hillary was dressed in an Islamic burqa. Soon after, multiple statues of a nude and testicle-less Donald Trump appeared in American cities. Unlike the Hillary artwork, the proliferation created huge fanfare and delight amongst both prominent leftists and run-of-the-mill liberal voters. Why is one act so offensive and the other so funny, particularly in age where body-shaming and mocking someone’s appearance is meant to be so taboo?

Most of the critical commentaries about the Trump statues that appeared in the mainstream media, of which there were few, failed to take into account one glaring significance of the testicle-less Trump. Short of them being violently taken or hacked off, how exactly could Trump have no balls? Imagine the furore if a statue, mural or other representation of Hillary Clinton had lacked breasts or shown her vagina circumcised/mutilated. “They’re condoning violence against women!” would be the stock-standard answer from liberals and their even more deranged SJW cousins.

4. Lesbian’s Olympic marriage proposal vs. heterosexual male’s Olympic marriage proposal

This is bad and misogynistic:

This is love and should be applauded:

Leftists rejoiced when Olympic official Marjorie Enya asked her partner, rugby sevens player Isadora Cerullo, to marry her using a microphone. Love wins, right, especially when it’s gay love? But when Chinese athlete Qin Kai asked silver medalist He Zi to marry him, the knives from the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) came out. The BBC, unfortunately taxpayer-funded, published an article insinuating that Qin Kai was attempting to control He Zi with the very public marriage proposal. Not only could it be control, it could be awfully pernicious “male control.” Coverage of Enya’s proposal to Cerullo, however, got the broadcaster’s tick of approval.

If either of the two proposals is a form of control or narcissistic, it was the lesbian one. Unlike the Chinese diver, who was competing individually, the lesbian proposed to was part of the Brazilian team, which had not even been awarded a medal. Brazil had come ninth and that night Australia had beaten New Zealand for the gold medal. He Zi may not have won the gold medal, but she had actually participated in the final. But do not let facts get in the way of a good male-bashing.

5. Objectifying men vs. objectifying women

Cosmopolitan has established itself as a dual enabler of both ditzy female airheads and SJW political freaks. Over time, the magazine has come out strongly against countless normal displays of male sexuality, admonishing men who appreciate female breasts and buttocks for being “horrible.” Of the many Cosmopolitan pieces to take this line, an article in mid-2014 takes the cake for its ridiculous shaming of harmless, healthy behaviors. Ironically, though, covers for this publication feature the same sorts of thin, healthy women that men desire most in the first place.

Fast-forward a mere two years and Cosmopolitan went to the extraordinary effort of cataloguing 36 men whose crotch bulges tickled their fancy. Of course, numerous other articles during that time had objectified men in a way considered misogynistic when males do it to women, but the timing was amusing. After so much talk of valuing female athletes, whose physical accomplishments are far less than men, for their work and not their bodies, Cosmopolitan celebrated the years of sacrifice of male athletes by effectively taking photos of their barely clothed genitalia.

We could keep on going

Many other hypocritical pieces were penned about these situations, not just the ones I have referenced. Then there’s the great number of other articles we could assess and critique on separate issues. You may be convinced, and rightfully so, that the mainstream media is inherently biased. But we need to take this to the next level and disseminate the proof to wider audiences.

Journalists and commentators will continue their bad habits, that much is clear. What matters now is fighting back. Complaining about double standards only goes so far. Exposing them in an organized fashion stands a better much chance in helping us to arrest and then reverse this institutional bias.

As Return Of Kings readers, you are our extra eyes and ears. If you find more examples of extreme leftist media bias, bring it to our attention.

https://www.returnofkings.com/19995/anti-female-stem-bias-a-bayesian-explanation

The New York Times recently ran a long piece exploring the history of women in STEM fields and attempting to explain the ever-present difference between men and women in performance and participation in these fields. The article begins by citing research on perceptions of female aptitude in math and science:

“Researchers at Yale published a study proving that physicists, chemists and biologists are likely to view a young male scientist more favorably than a woman with the same qualifications. Presented with identical summaries of the accomplishments of two imaginary applicants, professors at six major research institutions were significantly more willing to offer the man a job. “

She shares an anecdote that is supposed to display the prejudice of professors against females in the field, but instead illustrates one valid reason for the bias displayed by the Yale study:

“Other women chimed in to say that their teachers were the ones who teased them the most. In one physics class, the teacher announced that the boys would be graded on the “boy curve,” while the one girl would be graded on the “girl curve”; when asked why, the teacher explained that he couldn’t reasonably expect a girl to compete in physics on equal terms with boys.”

Enter Bayes’ Theorem

Bayes’s theorem is a foundational principle of statistics and probability that allows us to update our estimations about the trueness of a fact based on new evidence. The math of Bayes’ theorem is simple and elegant, and the overarching idea is powerful — we can use evidence in a formalized manner to change the probability that something may be true, and this can often have non-intuitive results.

The classic example of Bayes in action is medical tests — for example, if 1% of women have breast cancer, and a mammogram detects the cancer 80% of the time with a 10% false positive rate, what is the probability that a positive result means the woman has cancer? If a mammogram is positive, the chance of cancer is less than 8% due to the presence of false positives, as well as the low baseline population rate of cancer.

What does this have to do with women and STEM fields? Readers of this site are familiar with the allure that even a plain looking girl can have at the height of her availability and youth. This isn’t just a factor when getting free drinks at the bar – it extends to the classroom, hiring for jobs, treatment in everyday life, and many other areas. Girls in primary and secondary school are judged to be better students, despite boys showing a significant advantage in standardized tests starting around middle school. The article highlights the ways that women are supposedly discouraged by the system, but makes no mention of the advantages they enjoy.

Put simply, women are more likely to be handed accomplishments without having to work for them, both due to the power of their sexuality and as unconscious overcorrection for their supposed disadvantages in opportunity. Given an applicant with a certain pedigree – a Ph.D, say, from a top graduate program —we will have a certain estimation of that person’s intelligence and aptitude. However, the “false positive” rate on those qualifications identifying extremely high aptitude is likely to be much lower for a man, who has not enjoyed the advantages of a feminized education system, catch-up programs, and the hint of his sexuality influencing the evaluations of his superiors.

The bias against hiring a woman whose qualifications are equal to a man, and their subsequent lower salary offer, is simply a use of Bayesian inference. It accounts for the implicit probability that the female will not be as good as her résumé suggests, to say nothing of the chance that she will leave her job to begin a family and leave her employer empty-handed at some point in the future. If, as the example above states, both men and women implicitly behave as if men are superior in math and science, we must give some consideration that this is a possibility.

If Men Are Better At Math/Science — What’s The Big Deal?

The media is encouraged to sing the praises of women where they excel compared to men, and females indeed show demonstrated advantages in many cognitive areas. They are better at language acquisition, picking up on non-verbal cues, and we are all familiar with their evolved capacity for psychological manipulation. Many would suggest that women have better organizational skills. They are incarcerated for violent crimes less often, are less prone to risky behavior, and are more resilient to psychological trauma such as PTSD.

But when it comes to exploring why men have long-demonstrated advantages in certain disciplines, the media scrabbles to ascribe the boogeyman of injustice perpetrated on the protected class. The article is quick to dismiss the repeatable and longitudinal difference between males in females in standardized testing, a long-standing form of evaluation that every college and grad school uses to give out valuable admissions spots. It also does not mention the lack of female representation in technology entrepreneurship, a field that is less dependent on credentials and more on individual drive, creativity, and aptitude.

It could certainly be true that women are discriminated against AND that they are simply less common at the far right of the aptitude bell curve necessary for competitive positions in academia. But I challenge you to find this idea entertained in any mainstream publication despite the mountains of circumstantial evidence. Larry Summers was tarred and feathered for even mentioning research on population dynamics as a potential driver of this difference. The lesson here is that, when you begin an “inquiry” by presupposing the conclusion, you will end up with a politically correct and eminently intellectually dishonest worldview.

Read More: The Anti-Male Commercial

[rosedavid]

Summer-Salt

word count: 4,657

summary: the past comes back to haunt TJ and Cyrus when Andi announces her big Halloween bash she’s planning. 

tag list: @youve-cath-to-be-kitten-me

Happy Halloween everyone!! I hope you all enjoy this one-shot that’s been a long time coming :) Also this is unedited, so I apologize!

                                                             ...

“What did Andi’s text say again?” TJ questions as he gets tugged along the sidewalk by a persistent, fast-paced Cyrus.

“She just said something like, ‘Meet at The Spoon ASAP! It’s of the upmost importance!’” Cyrus replies, doing a terrible impression of her voice.

“First of all, I don’t think Andi says things like ‘of the upmost importance’! You’re the only one who uses words as fancy as that. Second, she definitely does not sound like that.”

Cyrus rolls his eyes, purposefully knocking his shoulder against TJ’s shoulder as they continue walking. TJ chuckles in response to his boyfriend’s antics, bumping his shoulder back. Meanwhile, Cyrus sticks his chin out defiantly before retaliating to TJ’s comments.

“I don’t use fancy words,” he debates, “I just prefer proper grammar when conversing with someone. Also, my accents and imitations are spot on, thank you very much.”

“Conversing with someone,” TJ snickers. “You’re adorable.”

Cyrus sputters, face reddening. “Is that all you got out of what I just said?!”

“Sorry, Underdog, I can’t help it. Honestly though, that impression was…not great. I would not have guessed Andi if I didn’t know who texted.”

“Who would you have guessed?”

“Uh…Jonah, maybe?”

Cyrus pretends to look offended, but he can’t keep his composure for long before descending into giggles. TJ smiles and laughs along with him, unable to resist the fluttery feeling that flows through him as a result of their bantering. When they officially announced their feelings for each other on the bench at Andi’s party a few months ago, TJ was terrified that things would change significantly between them. He worried that, like some of the stories you hear about, they were potentially ruining their friendship. His fears only intensified after their first, extremely awkward date. Thankfully, the initial awkwardness and tension between them faded rapidly after they both stopped placing so much pressure on themselves, and they quickly fell back into their normal routine with each other (except this time with their feelings toward each other known and reciprocated).

Now, TJ feels more at ease than ever. The conflict that was previously raging inside of him has simmered down, allowing him to be more comfortable in his skin than ever. And he knows that without Cyrus here, he would probably still be the Scary-Basketball-Guy that Cyrus first knew him as. Many times, TJ finds himself pondering what his life would be like if he never interacted with Cyrus. Although there’s no real way to know, TJ thinks that there’s no way he would have progressed this far. On days like those, TJ looks over at Cyrus to confirm that it’s all real; that everything that happened in the past months between them wasn’t just a sick, twisted dream.

“Come on, dork, we’re already running late!” Cyrus laughs, yanking on his hand with an even stronger grasp.

“If anything, you’re the dork with your big words,” TJ replies.

“Says Mr. I Know Every Line in Hamilton.”

“Of course I do! That play is more than just a play: It’s an experience!”

They stumble through the door of The Spoon a few seconds later, still calming down from their giggling. Immediately, they spot the group in their usual corner booth (the only booth in the entire diner big enough to fit their vastly expanding friend group). However, they also quickly notice that the group is lacking one key person. They make their way over to the others, hands still linked. Once they get over there, they take a seat beside Jonah, with Buffy and Marty sitting across from them.

“There are the lovebirds!” Buffy teases, something she says almost every time she sees the duo together now. Despite the frequency, TJ knows that both of them still blush slightly whenever she says it.

“Yeah, sorry we’re late. We were in the middle of a movie which turned into an impromptu nap,” Cyrus apologizes.

TJ adds on, “You mean your nap. I was still awake the whole time acting as your pillow!”

“Why are you so tired, man?” Marty asks Cyrus.

“Ugh, well it all started with our math teacher assigning a ridiculous amount of homework...” Cyrus begins, delving into the long story he told TJ just this morning over text. TJ couldn’t understand how he typed it out so fast, either, but he had a feeling that Cyrus had just loaded up on coffee, causing the crash he witnessed just a little bit ago.

As Cyrus recounts his story, TJ zones out a bit. Instead, he focuses on the way Cyrus’s eyes light up avidly, hands swishing around and almost hitting TJ in the face a few times. His exuberance is contagious, as TJ finds himself unable to prevent the beam from spreading across his face alongside the others.

“That sucks,” Jonah comments once the story is over. “I hope you can actually get some sleep soon.”

“Me too,” Cyrus sighs, slumping over in his seat. “When I get home, I’m going to take another nap I think.”

“That sounds great if Andi would ever get here,” Buffy frowns, checking the time on her phone again. “She texted nearly half an hour ago saying it was so urgent, yet she isn’t even here yet!”

“What do you think the text was about, anyway?” Jonah wonders, to which everyone at the table shrugs.

Before they can continue on their conversation, Andi finally arrives. She bursts through the door, nearly tripping and falling before a certain blonde waitress steadies her. In Andi’s arms is a gigantic container teeming with what appears to be random objects. TJ is amazed that everything managed to stay inside the container despite her stumble. With Amber in tow, the two of them come up to the booth. Amber stands off to Andi’s side warily as she carries the teetering container. Finally, Andi drops it down onto the floor with an echoing thud. She huffs, wiping her hands of on her jeans before offering everyone an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, it took me longer than I thought to lug this here,” Andi states, squeezing into the booth beside everyone.

“Amber, thank goodness you’re here--” Cyrus sighs in relief.

Amber smiles at him, “Wow Cyrus, that’s really sweet of you to say!”

“—I need baby taters right now. It’s a matter of life and death itself!”

Amber rolls her eyes, flipping out her notebook and scribbling baby taters down. Cyrus, on the other hand, goes as white as a ghost, suddenly terrified that he offended her. After all, she appears furious.

“I’m sorry, Amber! I am really glad you’re here, even without the baby tater part.”

Amber’s expression morphs from one of anger to one of humor in an instant. She waves it off. “It’s fine, Cyrus. I know. Also, I already started your baby taters right when I saw you come in. I’ll go get them right now”

“You’re amazing.”

Andi clears her throat, calling the attention back to her. “Sorry, but this is really important.”

“I’m still confused,” Jonah admits, peering over the table at the container on the floor. “What exactly is this all for?”

“You’re kidding, right? Don’t you know what day it is?”

“October 3rd,” TJ offers, descending into snickers with Cyrus and the others.

“No, seriously. Do none of you remember?” Andi asks with disbelief, looking over all the individual members of the table.

“Uh…is it someone’s birthday?” Jonah asks, stilling. “Wait, is it my birthday?!”

A frustrated sigh escapes Andi’s lips. “No, Jonah, your birthday was a few months ago. Guys, it’s officially one week before Halloween!”

TJ frowns, having completely forgotten about the holiday coming up so soon. He supposes that he’s just been so preoccupied with his first year of high school as well as his relationship with Cyrus that he just forgot. Not to mention, he’s been swamped with homework recently to prepare for midterms, so all he’s had on his mind have been math formulas and history dates. Basketball has also been taxing this year; finding his spot on the team with new dynamics has been difficult. As he glances over at Cyrus, he looks just as shocked to remember about Halloween. TJ knows for a fact that Cyrus has been working nonstop recently for all his honors classes he’s been taking this semester.

“Oh,” Buffy states, summing up pretty much what all of them are currently thinking.

“Oh? Just…oh?! You all forgot about Halloween, one of the best holidays of the year!” Andi groans, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“We didn’t forget…we just temporarily spaced it out. After all, Grant Highschool isn’t as decorative and festive as Sava. I think the few spiderwebs they put up at the beginning of the month were torn down within a few days.”

“It looks like we have more work to do than I thought.”

At that moment, Amber returns with the baby taters. Cyrus immediately starts inhaling them, smacking TJ’s hand away when he tries to steal one. Amber then declares she’s on her break before pulling up an extra chair to the end of the booth right beside Andi’s massive container full of miscellaneous objects.

“Work for what?” Amber asks, trying to figure out what she missed.

“The greatest Halloween party ever,” Andi finally announces dramatically.

Cyrus rubs his hands together in excitement. “Another famous Andi Mack party!”

“But this one has to be better than all the last ones,” Andi replies. “It’s even higher stakes now than before. That’s why I’m enlisting all of your help to make sure that it’s going to be an awesome party.”

“What do we need to help with?” Buffy asks.

Andi smirks, reaching down to grab a huge list out of the container full of party ideas. She places it on the table in front of them so they can all read it. Then, she flicks out her duct tape pen, poised to write some more.

“This sounds…amazing!” Cyrus gapes, reading over the list. “Are you sure you need our help? I think this is perfect already.”

“I just need a few things from you all,” Andi begins, “First, Jonah and TJ, I need you two working on putting together a Halloween playlist. I need Amber’s help with setting all the decorations up because Bex and I will never get it done on our own. I also need Buffy and Cyrus to pick up a bunch of stuff at the store for me before the party. Also, bring Marty to get some decent snacks, because I know the two of you would just pick a bunch of gross health foods. But, most importantly, we have to have the best Halloween costumes!”

“Well, what are you going to be?” Buffy wonders, hoping for some inspiration.

Andi shakes her head and mimics a zipper along her lips. “It’s a surprise! But just know it’s going to be amazing! So, I need you all to dress up, too.”

Jonah raises his hand, “Can my costume be Boy Who Plays Guitar?”

“Ugh, yeah, that’s fine,” Andi sighs, knowing she shouldn’t force him to get involved in a more intricate costume. “But I expect great things from everyone else!”

“Don’t worry, I already have the best idea for a couple’s costume for Marty and I,” Buffy gushes.

Marty frowns, nudging her side, “But what if I already had a great idea.”

Buffy looks at him, unimpressed. “Let’s hear it then.”

“I was thinking we could each be a shoe! You be the right, I’ll be the left. We’re a pair, get it?”

Everyone looks at him, unamused, besides for Jonah who laughs at almost everything. Buffy shakes her head in disappointment.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a childhood TV show throwback, like Velma and Shaggy,” Buffy offers.

“You watched Scooby Doo?” TJ asks incredulously, causing Buffy to cross her arms at him.

“You say that as if you don’t still watch it,” Buffy retorts which TJ chuckles at, hands raised up in surrender.

“I’ll go as Princess Peach,” Amber declares, smiling at Andi softly. “After all, I have to look my best for the coolest party in town.”

Andi coughs abruptly, cheeks turning red as she looks over to the remaining two people. “TJ? Cyrus? Can I count on you two?”

TJ glances over at Cyrus, but finds that the other boy is staring down at his lap instead. Since Buffy and Marty are doing a couple’s costume, he assumes that him and Cyrus will do one, too. After all, they’re officially a couple now, as in they’re out at school and to their parents. Plus, matching costumes on Halloween are the pinnacle for couples; it’s usually just expected that you’ll match if you’re dating. So, TJ goes to answer Andi, saying that he and Cyrus will think of a creative couple’s costume.

Before he can respond, though, Cyrus blurts out, “I think my step-dad has an old jumpsuit that I could turn into a ghostbusters costume.”

Across the table, Buffy meets TJ’s eyes, surprise evident in her expression. TJ is also surprised. Why doesn’t Cyrus want to do a costume with him? He frowns, reaching for Cyrus’s hand again but finds that Cyrus moved them both into his pockets. In fact, not only Buffy seems surprised by Cyrus’s decision, but no one comments on it. Andi simply offers him a smile before looking over at TJ.

“What about you, TJ?” she asks.

TJ bites his lip and shrugs. He spares one last glance at Cyrus, who is pointedly looking anywhere but at him. “I’ll figure something cool out, I’m sure.”

The rest of the time talking about the party goes by painstakingly slow for TJ. Cyrus seems to liven back up and get into the conversation, but he still casts his eyes away when TJ looks at him. TJ hates the tension between them at the moment. Although they’re squished up against each other’s sides, TJ still feels like he’s miles away from Cyrus. Normally, TJ and Cyrus have this connection, this spark between them, but right now it’s fizzled out. TJ can’t decipher Cyrus’s emotions as he covers them up behind robotic laughter and half-smiles. Normally, Cyrus is expressive and easy to read; however, TJ just can’t figure out what’s going through his head in that moment. Is he mad at TJ for assuming that they’d do a couple’s costume? Why would he be mad about that, though, since they are a couple?

Finally, after forever, the group goes to dismantle for the day and do their respective tasks. Cyrus slides out of the booth, getting ready to walk home with Jonah, but TJ catches his wrist before he leaves.

“Can we talk for a second?” TJ questions.

Cyrus purses his lips before nodding, sitting back down at the booth as Jonah follows the others to wait outside for him. Now, it’s just the two of them alone together. Based on Cyrus’s lack of chattiness, TJ has a feeling that Cyrus knows why he stopped him.

“Why don’t you want to do a couple’s costume with me? I mean, we are a couple, right? Or do you not want to be—”

“Of course we’re a couple, Teej,” Cyrus promises, grasping his hand resting on his lap with a comforting squeeze.

TJ smiles, feeling at least a bit more relieved but also more confused. “I-I don’t understand, then. I just figured since Buffy and Marty are doing a couple’s costume that, y’know, we would do one, too.”

The smile drops off Cyrus’s face as he lets out a deep sigh. He rubs the back of his neck with a ducked head as he tries to think of what to say. TJ begins to run through all the possible reasons Cyrus is acting this way. The shaking leg, uncomfortable gait, inability to explain himself, the dejected look on his face…

“I’m sorry, just after Costume Day—” Cyrus stammers, voice shaking. “I just can’t.”

TJ’s heart drops in his chest. “Cy, I would never do that again, I swear. I’m sorry.”

“I-I know, really, but I still can’t get over that feeling I had on Costume Day. And then before with Jonah…I don’t know how to explain it, but I just can’t match with you. I’m sorry.”

Then, Cyrus stands up abruptly, barely even flinching as his knee hits the edge of the table. He checks the time on his phone, then looks out the window at where Jonah is still waiting. TJ stands up beside him, not wanting to leave things like this.

“I understand,” TJ finally whispers, staring at his shoes.

Cyrus smiles wearily, although the usual twinkle present in his eyes has vanished. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

Cyrus offers another quick hand squeeze before jogging out the door to catch up with Jonah. Meanwhile, TJ is left there frozen, still contemplating everything that just occurred.

TJ knew that he hurt Cyrus, and he still feels guilty about it every day, but he never knew that his actions had that huge of an impact on Cyrus. Thinking about it now, it seems stupid that TJ didn’t think about it before. At first, TJ got upset with the idea that Cyrus thought he would bail again. After all, things are so different, now, and Cyrus knows that. But then, as TJ thinks about it more and more, he begins to understand. That look of dejection Cyrus had earlier, it matched the look on Costume Day. Cyrus trusted him, and he betrayed his trust. But how can TJ even begin to think of winning it back? TJ knows for certain that he can’t just forget about this or it may forever be a hole in their relationship that grows wider and wider each day. He just worries that there’s nothing he can ever do to fix this. After all, he’s already apologized numerous times. What else could he possibly do?

Lunch at school during the next week is more awkward than normal. Although he and Cyrus still act like a couple, holding hands and kissing each other’s cheeks, TJ can’t get over that subtle feeling of tautness between them. It’s like their relationship is a stretched rubber band about to snap. TJ can tell Cyrus feels it, too. In fact, Cyrus has been acting a bit off all the time since the day at The Spoon. He’s been a bit less talkative, although to most people it would seem like nothing is wrong. Andi isn’t really around enough because of SAVA to notice the tiny differences, while Jonah and Marty aren’t clued into Cyrus’s coping strategies. Buffy seems to be the only one scrutinizing Cyrus when he’s not looking. Every late laugh and quiet spell sends Buffy looking at him strangely. She begins to piece it together rather quick, as she notices TJ’s awkward looks on more than one occasion.

Soon, it’s the day before Halloween, and TJ is feeling more down in the dumps than ever. After school that day, he finds himself in one of the places that relieves his stress the most: the basketball courts. He would normally go to the swings, but he doesn’t want to have to face Cyrus there before he can think of some way to make up for everything. Frustration leaks out of him as he shoots the basketball at the hoop with exceeding aggressiveness. He’s not mad at Cyrus at all but rather himself. If he wasn’t such a coward that day, maybe things would be different. Kira coming into the equation just threatened to ruin everything between them, and they’re obviously still reaping the repercussions of her manipulation today. He grunts as he heaves the ball at the hoop as hard as he can, not even caring as it bounces off the backboard and skitters along the pavement. His heartbeat thrums in his ears, and he crouches down to try and calm himself. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, hand running through his sweaty hair.

“TJ?” A familiar voice asks. “Are you okay?”

TJ opens his eyes to see Buffy standing over him with a mild look of concern on her face. His first instinct is to snap back with the classic “I’m fine” method. That definitely worked for him before. He could also pretend like nothing was wrong, going back to playing basketball like normal, but Buffy would see right through that. Then, he thinks about how much he’s changed in just the past couple of months. Blocking things out or covering them up is a common tactic that the old TJ used, but he’s better than that now.

“I don’t know,” TJ admits timidly, dropping from his crouch until he’s completely sitting on the pavement. Buffy hesitates for a moment before sitting down beside him.

“You can talk to me, you know. I know we’re not super close, but you’ve grown on me, Kippen.”

TJ cracks a smile. “Thanks, but I don’t think anyone can help me with this one.”

“Try me.”

Not wanting to go into too much detail, TJ says vaguely, “I apologized to Cyrus for something, and even though he says it’s okay, it’s obviously not. I just don’t know what to do.”

Although there’s hardly any context behind any of it, Buffy appears as if she knows quite a bit more about the situation than she’s letting on. Still, she doesn’t press TJ for more information or even badger him for what he did to Cyrus.

“Apologies are hard, sometimes,” she admits. “I definitely struggle with them a lot of times. But…I’ve found it’s not really the actual words that count, it’s your actions.”

“Your actions…” TJ trails off, a lightbulb suddenly going off in his head. “Actions speak louder than words. That actually helped a lot Buffy, thank you.”

Buffy smiles, “Anytime, TJ. But also, do we have to keep calling each other by our first names? I have to admit, it’s kind of weird.”

“Agreed.”

With a determined look on her face, Buffy jumps up from the ground. She goes over to retrieve the abused basketball from the grass and tucks it under her arm. Then, she walks back over to TJ and offers a hand down to him. “So, Kippen, care for me to beat you at a game of one-on-one?”

TJ chuckles, taking it and letting her haul him to his feet. “In your dreams, Driscoll!”

As he plays, he feels lighter than before. He knows what he needs to do.

…

The next night, TJ arrives at the party just as it’s getting into full swing. It certainly seems to be a hit so far, with what seems like almost all of the students at Grant Highschool coming out to enjoy her party. Even from the outside, the house is decorated head to toe for Halloween, with crafty, spun spiderwebs hung from every corner and giant spiders creeping along them. Strands of Halloween lights illuminate the front yard in an eerie green color, while smoke from what TJ assumes are smoke machines leak out from the door and window cracks inside.

At the last second before stepping into the party, TJ rethinks his entire plan. What if Cyrus still doesn’t forgive him after this? What if Cyrus can never trust him the same way again? TJ doesn’t know if he could stand that. This needs to work. He needs to make this right. As Buffy made him realize, actions speak louder than words, and this is definitely making a statement. With a deep breath, he enters the house.

Inside is even more crazy and spooky. Almost everyone is dressed up in amazing Halloween costumes. Music blasts over the speakers which everyone dances with in excitement. Paper Mache ghosts and ghouls hang from the ceiling, lit up by colorful lights. Carved pumpkins line one wall, and there’s a place to bob for apples. Marty and Buffy are already over there competing, dressed up in their Shaggy and Velma costumes like they planned, although Buffy seems to be getting annoyed by her plastic glasses as she keeps having to push them up her nose. A huge table is lined with spooky punch and a gaggle of monstrous snacks. He has a feeling that Cyrus had a lot to do with some of the baked goods, as he knows how seriously Cyrus takes good presentation.

“TJ?” Andi speaks from behind him, voice just barely audible over the noise of the party. He turns, taking in her costume. She’s dressed as Mulan, and it’s obvious that her costume is hand made because it’s much more beautiful and realistic than any costume. She has a variety of fancy clips in her hair, along with a fake sword tucked into her belt. Amber stands beside her in her Princess Peach outfit, complete with the huge poufy dress and everything.

“Andi,” he breathes, “Great costume! You too, Amber.”

She looks him over with a knowing smirk. “Cyrus is in the backyard.”

TJ blushes, trying to come up with a good response but can’t think of anything. Amber and Andi giggle together before heading the opposite direction, patting him on the shoulders as they go. TJ figures that it’s now or never.

He heads outside where only a few people linger, one of them being Cyrus. He’s sulking in his costume on the very bench they sat at just a few months prior, except the fire is extinguished and replaced with giant pumpkins. TJ pads up behind him.

“You’re missing the party,” TJ states nervously.

Cyrus turns his head, and his eyes widen a comical amount as he takes in the familiar look TJ is sporting. TJ’s wearing the very Salt costume that Cyrus was wearing on Costume Day, colander and all. He looks and feels ridiculous, but he’d wear it for the next week if it meant Cyrus would forgive him.

“You…” Cyrus stutters, still in shock.

“I know that I really hurt you on Costume Day, and I know I needed to make it right somehow. Then, Buffy kind of told me how actions speak louder than words, and I hoped that maybe this would speak for itself?”

Cyrus stands, and a flash of fear courses through TJ as he worries that Cyrus will simply leave again. However, he actually does the exact opposite, and takes a step closer to TJ. They’re so close that they can see each other’s breaths in the cold air. Cyrus reaches up to adjust the colander on TJ’s head so it’s not tipping to one side. TJ quirks his lips up at Cyrus, relief washing over him.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” Cyrus whispers.

“I’d do it again,” TJ promises. “And again. And again. I just needed you to know how much you really mean to me and how truly sorry I am.”

Dark eyes peer up at him, barely visible past his metal hat. “How could I not forgive anyone who’s willing to wear a colander on his head for me?”

TJ shares a grin with Cyrus. They find themselves inching closer to each other until finally Cyrus brushes his lips against TJ’s own in a soft, loving kiss. TJ relaxes at Cyrus’s touch, and things feel right again between them.

“I’m pretty sure Andi has some kind of cheesy beach shirt here,” Cyrus mentions breathlessly when they separate.

It takes TJ a second before it clicks. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

Cyrus strokes TJ’s cheek with his thumb. “I want to match with you.”

And when Cyrus descends from upstairs wearing a pair of too small flipflops, a oversized beach hat, basketball shorts, and a completely unmatching Hawaiian-themed shirt, TJ can’t hold back his grin. This is how it should’ve been all along, and TJ hates that it took him so long to make up for it. At least now he can say that Summer-Salt is still their thing.

#tyrus #tyrus fanfic #andi mack #andi mack fanfic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #andi mack fic #tyrus fic #tj x cyrus #cyrus x tj #angst #fluff #halloween #fanfiction

[lezliefaithwade]

David & Goliath

My grandfather, on my Mother's side, immigrated to Canada from Italy in the 1950's. For years I thought I was Italian until one day my Mother explained that her real father (who was Danish) had died when she was seven and that Ralph was actually my grandmother's “companion”. At seven I had no idea what a "companion" was, nor did I care. All that mattered was whether I would inherit his talent for cooking and gardening.  As a child, Italy seemed like a mythical land filled with beautiful palaces and amazing desserts.

When I finally had the opportunity to visit the land of my grandfather's birth, I made it a point to seek out all the places I'd heard about as a child. So, it was, that while I was in Florence, standing in front of the statue of David I was suddenly reminded of an episode in grade 9 when for three solid weeks I was bullied by a fellow student three times my size who I believed would destroy me.

In the Old Testament, the story goes that David, who is just a boy, takes down the 6'9" Goliath with nothing but a sling shot after King Saul, supposedly over 6' himself, is too afraid to challenge the giant on his own.

As I stood there examining the statue, I couldn't help wondering why Michelangelo had sculpted the boy to be so huge when Goliath was the giant?  At 17 feet, David stands three times larger than an average man. Is his size a metaphor for his bravery?

Growing up, I never considered whether I was brave or not until the summer before my thirteenth birthday when my parent's separation marked me (at least in my mind) as an oddity. I was the first one I knew of to come from a broken home, and to me, this was a truly embarrassing fact. I was ashamed of what I perceived to be a major failure on the part of my parents, and worried that everyone would think less of me because of it.  I wanted my family to be idyllic and though they were far from that, at least while we were all under the same roof, I could pretend. To save myself the embarrassment and shame of having to explain to kids I knew why I was no longer living at my old house on Belmont, and instead in an ugly apartment building across town, I opted to attend an all girl’s Catholic high school where no one knew me. For almost three months, I lied about where I lived. I pretended the apartment building I walked to every evening after school was where I babysat someone's kid. I never let on that my parents weren't together or that I was struggling with the reality that they were headed for divorce.

Catholic girl's schools, I soon discovered, harboured two types of young women. Those who longed for small classroom education among a female community of likeminded individuals, and those whose parents were forcing them to attend a school they hoped would reform them. Possibly attending Catholic school was a last resort ordered by the court. In any case, I was soon the target of gang terrorism brought about by answering questions in class – namely in English where I seemed to excel in understanding Shakespeare. Somewhere between The Merchant of Venice and Romeo and Juliet I became the object of abuse. Short and obnoxious, I was an easy target for a small but imposing group of girls who were significantly bigger and louder. The leader of this particular gang of delinquents was an overbearing, unusually tall girl named Susan Podansky. Susan had thick brown curly hair and a large set of yellow teeth that filled her face when she smiled. Not that her smiles were warm and generous. When Susan smiled, there was foreboding in the air.  She reminded me of the witch in Hansel and Gretel licking her chops as she prepared to eat everything in her wake. Her neck was thick, her hands were large and her voice was low. “Guess who’s going to die tonight?” she’d whisper in my ear as I scurried from Math class to Science. The whole time I was dissecting my frog I imagined my innards splayed across the grass beyond the school.

It occurs to me now, many years later and infinitely wiser, that there was nowhere for Susan and her gang to actually pommel me. The school was small and well supervised and the yard was too. Unless their aim was to be caught, there was no way they could beat me up and get away with it. At the time, this logic escaped me. Instead I cowered in classrooms, stayed late for extra help in things I was already excelling at, and volunteered for everything from library duty to bible study. If something needed to be scrubbed, painted, sorted or filed, I signed myself up.

There were rumours going around about Susan and her gang. They set fire to garbage cans. They stole from variety stores. One of them had a friend who’d been decapitated on the roller coaster at Crystal Beach. Each story was more shocking than the one before. What started out as careful avoidance, turned into full blown terror.

Ironically, I’d known Susan in grades 3 and 4 when I had attended Holy Family elementary. I was not Catholic, but the school was close to our house and my mother deemed it more convenient than the public school that was a good deal further away. My parents were never concerned about what rubbed off on us. During the day I learned about the Virgin Mary and the Holy Ghost and after school my mother played Rock and Roll albums and allowed me to read, Mad Magazine, and Creepy comics. Susan had been in my class back then. She was already bigger than the rest of us, but harmless. Once she even invited me to her house. I remember her mother was pleasant enough as she cooked something in the kitchen that smelled foreign and delicious.  Most of the kids at Holy Family were Irish or Italian, but Susan was Polish. To me that made her exotic. But then again, I was the daughter of Wasps attending a Catholic school. Everything was exotic to me. In the two years we shared a classroom at elementary school, we’d never clashed. In fact, in a childish act of solidarity, we both called Mrs. Flint, a substitute teacher, Mrs. Flintstone and were called to the office. We were equally contrite and that was the end of that. What prompted this new vitriol, aside from a seemingly innocent love for Shakespeare, I’ll never know. Whatever it was, her threatening demeanour was scary and all consuming.

At home, my mother couldn’t help but notice that I was at school later than usual. I’d enter the hallway out of breath, eat dinner, then retreat to bed. After a week of this she coaxed the truth out of me with cupcakes and before I knew what I’d said, she was on the warpath. This was exactly what I didn’t want. I’d been warned by Susan that if I snitched on her, she’d make my life even more miserable. I begged my mother to leave it alone, but she was determined. My mother had lived with an abusive step-father for a time before Ralph, and bullying wasn’t something she tolerated.

The next day I was called down to Sister Rita Mary’s office where two seats were arranged in front of her desk. I could see from half a mile away that large head of messy hair belonging to Susan. I timidly entered and sat down next to her. Sister Rita Mary smiled, “It’s come to my attention that there has been some nuisance between the two of you.”

Nuisance? Between the two of us? I could see where this was heading.

“It’s my belief that you just don’t know each other well enough, so my solution to this misunderstanding is to arrange for you to sit next to each other in all of your classes from now on.” Then, with a smile on her face she dismissed us from her office and closed the door.

Susan grinned, “This oughta be fun,” she announced. “Guess who’s gonna have a funeral?” And then she galumphed off to class.

Sitting beside Susan was excruciating. In math she broke my pencils. In English she poured ink on my assignment. But it was art class where she really crossed the line. I’d been working on a painting for several weeks and had almost completed my masterpiece when she and her gang “accidentally” spilled paint all over the canvas. “Oh, sorry!” she feigned, and then left me to absorb what had just happened while the teacher insisted I stay and clean up the mess.

Two other girls in my class – Vicki and Sarah shook their heads in disgust. “This can’t continue.” they stated. “That girl has to be stopped.”

“I agree,” I muttered as I crawled about the class on my knees cleaning tempra paint off the floor, “But how?”

That afternoon at lunchtime the three of us hunkered down at a table in the cafeteria to eat. No sooner had we settled when Susan came bounding over, knocked my tray off the table proclaiming me a moron and warning, “Better watch yourself tonight.”

I could feel my face flush and the bile rise in my mouth. I’d learned one thing from comic books, and that was how things were never what they seemed. The meek were often strong. The strong were often scared and bullies could be undermined. Before I knew it, Sarah was standing.

“What did you say?” she asked her.

For a moment I saw Susan blanch. She was shocked. This was unexpected. All she could manage to say was, “What?”

“You heard her, " Vicki demanded, also now standing. They looked like two Davids' to Susan's Goliath.

"What's wrong with the baby?" Susan taunted, "Needs other people to stand up for her?"

"No," I said rising to my feet, "I can stand up for myself."

She hesitated. Everyone was looking at us. Even the lunchroom nun was staring in disbelief.

“You'd better watch yourself.” Susan growled just low enough for my table to hear.

“Or what?” I asked

Susan just stared at me.

“Or what?” I repeated, “You’ll kill me? Beat me up? Hit me? Bury me? Why wait until tonight? Come on. Get it over with. Do it. Come on. You want to hit me? Hit me.” I was on a roll. Words were ammunition from my slingshot and I was on the attack. Next thing I knew, Vicki and Sarah chimed in.

“Yeah,” they echoed, “You wanna fight? Let’s fight.”  

Susan blinked. The cafeteria was eerily quiet. All eyes were on us.

“You’re not worth it,” Susan grunted, as she backed out of the lunchroom alone. And that, was the end of that.

For a moment, I felt 6' tall knowing that I had faced my biggest fear and somehow come out the better for it.

Vicki turned to me, "One Goliath down." she smiled. "Listen, I'm having a sleep-over this Friday. Ask your parents if you can come?"

This was the moment. If I could stand up to Susan, I would finally have the courage to say, "Just have to ask my Mom. My folks are separated."

I waited for the judgement that never came. Instead she simply said, "Cool. I'm adopted. Come by at 7:00."

#bullying #girl power #catholic school

[ewankoseyo]

lunch cute || bambam imagine

A/N: An anon requested a number from a writing challenge a while ago, but I accidentally deleted the ask :’ccc BUT here it is anyways. Partially based off the “got7 as crushes you have” that I did. Please enjoy!

——

89. “You’re not interested, are you?”

You weren’t unpopular. But it also wasn’t like you had a constant stream of people lining down the block just to be in your presence. You had a small tight-knit circle of friends and got on well with the classmates you knew, but it was the last year of high school. Everyone knew that cliques and friend groups were established in the first year, and you only ever joined a new friend group in the years following if you were a transfer student trying to find your place.

Other than that, everyone knew where they belonged and knew who didn’t belong with them. Fraternizing with anyone outside of your friend group at this point in high school wasn’t necessarily discouraged, but it wasn’t welcomed either. So when one of your friends had suggested that you ask Bambam out on a date, you had just looked back at them like they had two heads.

“But you talk about him all the time,” your friend stated as they stabbed a piece of salad. “Every lunch, it’s always ‘in math today Bambam said this’ or ‘in math today Bambam did that.’ I don’t remember ever subscribing to the Bambam Daily.”

“You’re so dumb.”

“Hey! All I’m saying is that with the way you keep talking about him, I’m surprised you’re not already a thing.”

They talk as if such a thing was so easy.

“Because we aren’t a thing. And we won’t be,” you clarified as you opened your carton of milk. “We just have assigned seats next to each other in math, that’s all.”

“But you want it to be more, don’t you?”

You quirked an eyebrow at them. “Oh, and I suppose if I say yes, you’ll want me to march over to him right now and ask him out?” You nudged your head in the direction of where the boy in question was sitting.

Bambam and his six closest friends were seated in the center of the cafeteria. Now they were a tight group everyone wanted to get in on but knew they had no place in it. They were the cliché “most popular boys in school.” You had Jaebum, the handsome student body president, supported by his right-hand man and the top 1% of the top 5% of the graduating class, VP Jinyoung. There was Mark, the transfer student from America who had all the girls swooning over his English and was also the MVP of the volleyball team. Jackson, captain of the basketball team and founding member of the fencing team, was the guy that everyone seemed to have a story about. Youngjae was the best singer in the school choir and scored the lead role in nearly every school musical. Yugyeom was the leader of the school dance team and even won first place in the regional dance competition last year.

Then there was Bambam. Fashionable, extra, unpredictable, and loud Bambam. The one who always asks you for a pencil in class because he forgot his. Actually there’s really nothing school-related in his backpack. But he makes it up to you by making you laugh throughout the boring math lesson. Sometimes he leaves funny doodles for you in the corner of your notes and secretly takes snaps of the both you with silly filters. You wish math class was longer just so you could spend more time with him. That Bambam. 

You sighed as you returned your gaze from the powerhouse group of boys back to your friend, now looking at you expectantly.

“There’s a reason why we’ve been sitting in the same spot for lunch since the first year of high school.”

——

“...and that’s it for today’s lesson. Please be sure to review the formulas from last week for tomorrow’s quiz.” Your classmates groaned simultaneously at your teacher’s parting reminder as they packed up their things and slowly funneled out of class for lunch. “Mr. Bhuwakul, just so you know, tomorrow’s quiz is an individual quiz, not a group quiz. You can’t talk to your partner during the quiz, just like how you shouldn’t be talking to them as I am teaching a lesson. Especially if it has nothing to do with what the class is learning.”

“Will do, sir,” Bambam answered next to you with a mini salute, sporting his signature mischievous smile. Your teacher just sighed before turning his back to you two to erase the board. 

After packing up, you got up and pushed in your chair. “Well, see ya tomorrow Bambam.” 

“Wait!” Bambam had leapt out of his seat to grab hold of your hand. You looked back at him, meeting his eager expression. “Are you going to eat lunch right now?”

“Yes...?” You answered slowly, looking down at your lunch bag. 

“Would you like to join me for lunch?” 

“Pardon?”

Bambam pointed at you before pointing back at himself. “You, me.” He made a gesture as if scooping something into his mouth. “Eat together.”

“Yes I understood that but,” you looked around you, afraid someone was secretly listening to your conversation, before whispering. “...is that even allowed?”

Bambam simply laughed before taking your hand again and gently pulling you along with him. 

You could have easily shaken yourself out of his hold. You two never talked outside of class and you only shared math together. Why did he suddenly want to each lunch with you?

But you let him pull you along because you were curious. And you couldn’t deny the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach from his hand enveloping yours. It was soft yet strong, feeling like it was always meant to be there. You would let him lead you to the ends of the earth if it meant he’d never let go.

Walking with Bambam was nice because while you tended to get tossed around in the crowd during the lunch rush, Bambam’s tall and broad figure allowed you both to plow through everyone. You noticed students in the hallways staring and whispering to one another as you two passed them by, but Bambam paid them no mind. He might have been used to the attention, but you sure weren’t, hanging your head low so people couldn’t really see your face.

More classes began to let out and in the midst of the lunch rush, your hand slipped out of Bambam’s and you’d completely lost him. You looked up, attempting to see the familiar mop of brown hair in the sea of heads but to no avail. Feeling students push and shove passed you as you stood there searching, you decided to keep moving, soldiering on in the direction of the cafeteria with a depressed sigh. Lunch with Bambam sounded nice, in theory.

Suddenly you felt an arm wrap your shoulders. You looked up to see Bambam grinning at you playfully. The sun seemed to peak right behind his head, giving him a halo effect.

“Did you think you could lose me that easily?”

You just shook your head at him, not trusting your voice to form a proper sentence. With a light squeeze of your shoulder, he continued to guide you through the crowd. You subconsciously leaned closer to his side to avoid the masses, inadvertently catching a whiff of his cologne. Bambam seemed to have noticed you slowing down and tightened his grip on you slightly. Soon found yourselves in the courtyard next to the gym that students rarely opted to eat in. He lead you to one of the patio tables and took a seat, motioning for you to sit as well.

“So what’s for lunch today?” Bambam asked, taking out a sack from his backpack.

“Uh, chicken and rice,” you replied as you peaked into your lunch bag.

“Did your mom pack it for you?”

“Yes.”

It was quiet as the two of you dug into your meals, shooting each other short smiles in between bites. You wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. Your conversations in math class were never anything of actual substance, usually sparked by something funny one of you noticed in the class, resulting with the both of you in a heap of giggles you’d try to keep down.

Now was your chance to really get to know him.

“Bambam?”

“Hmm?”

You stifled back a laugh at his caught expression. He had just taken a huge bite of his sandwich when you called him.

“Don’t you usually eat lunch with your friends?”

“Are you saying we’re not friends?” Bambam smirked as he swallowed his food.

You could feel the blush creeping to your cheeks. “No! I mean—no, not what I’m saying. But you usually eat with Jaebum and the other boys.”

“Well that’s usually, but today I wanted to eat with you.”

“Oh. Well, why?”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “I don’t know, just felt like eating with someone cute.” You nearly choked on your food from this, earning a snicker from Bambam. He just handed you your water bottle and waited patiently for you to get out of your coughing fit before continuing. “I also realized that I wanted to hang out with you for longer than 50 minutes a day and without getting in trouble...if that’s okay with you?” His smirk had disappeared, now looking at you bashfully.

You returned the smile as you met his gaze. “Of course it is, otherwise I wouldn’t have come along with you.”

Bambam breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, because even though everyone gushes over my friends, I think they’re too butt UGLY to eat with.”

“Hey!” You giggled at this. “You guys know you’re like the most handsome guys at school. Jackson’s a freaking model on the side!”

Bambam’s cheeks met the corners of his eyes, he couldn’t stop smiling at you. He decided to press on. Maybe he’d get to hear you laugh some more if he did?

“Well if you like him so much, why don’t you go and eat lunch with him instead?”

You two continued on going back and forth like that for the rest of the lunch period. Bambam made you rank from lowest to highest who you thought was the most handsome out of him and his friends, sulking playfully when you ranked him as second most handsome (“I said, if you like Jackson so much, just go and eat lunch with him instead!”) He told you funny stories about each of his friends, in an attempt to tear them off the pedestal that everyone seemed to put them on, and likewise he asked about you and your friends. You were in the middle of telling him a story about how you’d lost your friends at a carnival when you noticed he was just staring at you, no longer showing any response to what you were saying.

“...apparently there was an idol there so I got caught up in a mob and—oh sorry, you’re not interested, are you? I know my stories can be pretty boring... ”

Bambam, just realizing he had been staring at you, vehemently shook his head. “No! You’re not boring at all, I just...like the sound of your voice, is all.”

Suddenly the bell rung, signaling the end of the lunch period. Bambam got up to toss his trash and pack up his things. You were frozen in your spot, trying to comprehend his words. Bambam was just throwing curve balls at you left and right today! The boy simply chuckled at you once again.

“As cute as I find your wide-eyed expression, we need to get to class.”

Your jaw was practically on the floor. “Wait wha—”

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your class.”

“But my class is on the other side of campus,” you stated worriedly.

But Bambam didn’t care that he’d be running late, silently lacing his fingers through yours again with a smile and leading you in the opposite direction of his next class. He’d walk with you across the universe if it meant your hand would be in his along the way.

Because it was always meant to be there.

——

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 oneshots #bambam #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots #got7 fic #kpop fic #im jaebum #jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #mark tuan #kim yugyeom

[somerandomwriter1234]

Riley and Maya: Complicated Parenthood - Chapter 2 (A Person With Purpose)

Summary: In the ultimate twist of irony, former student rebel: Maya now finds herself as a teacher of sorts and has to plan her first field trip for her students. But will the field trip be a good one, and more importantly: what important life lesson will the students learn at the end of the trip?

Scene 1:

-In a classroom, Grace sat amongst many other students while they all did a writing assignment. As Grace attempted to write, she saw sitting just two seats away from her was a young boy named Connor sitting in a wheelchair whose head was tilted to the side and was very slowly using his right hand to move a pencil across the paper. Suddenly Connor dropped his pencil on the ground. Connor who could barely move his waist or shoulders, moved a hand up as he made a loud sound.

Connor: Paaaah! Paaah!

-A female teacher named Miss Amy walked over to Connor and picked up the pencil.

Miss Amy: Calm down Connor. I'll get your pencil.

Connor: Paaaah!

-An annoyed looking Grace glanced over at Connor and then Grace put one finger near her lips.

Grace: Shhh!

Miss Amy: Sorry. He's sorry. I'm sorry. Here's your pencil Connor.

-Connor made a smile as he was handed his pencil. Grace rolled her eyes away from Connor's direction as she went back to her writing assignment.

Scene 2:

-In the before/after care auditorium, many children were working on various activities and games as Maya and Farkle stood in a corner of the room talking to one another.

Maya: Farkle, I'm not an expert at setting up field trips.

Farkle: Well become one. Look. The other staff and I have other part time jobs we do during the day and we both already pull our weight around here quite a bit. Since this is your only job and I've kept your responsibilities rather minimal up until now, it only seems fair that you set up the next half day field trip we take the students on.

Maya: What about Smackle? Can't she set up this next field trip?

-Suddenly the two's thoughts were interrupted by Smackle's voice on the other side of the room being very loud. Farkle and Maya both turned their heads in Smackle's direction as she spoke.

Smackle: Gather around me now children! And I shall present to you all my conclusive evidence as to how the great Jedi Master: Yoda's ancestor was indeed Kermit the Frog!

-Farkle then turned his head to look right at a shocked looking Maya.

Maya: What the heck has happened to Smackle!?

Farkle: This job has… changed her. Trust me. It's better if we just let her do what she does. But look. If it'll make you feel any better: we'll all be present with you on the day of the field trip and will carry out the majority of things that need to be done. But I need you to choose the location we travel to, what we'll be doing there, and basically anything that needs to be done before the day of the trip. I know you won't let me down Maya.

-Farkle then walked away as Maya walked over to a table and sat down. Maya sighed and then turned her head to see Grace was right near her.

Maya: Oh. Hey there Grace.

Grace: Hey Miss Maya.

Maya: So… how's school been?

Grace: Okay. Although during writing time today, this one boy: Connor kept making a lot of noise because he kept dropping his pencil over and over.

Maya: How does dropping a pencil cause someone to make a lot of noise?

Grace: Because Connor can't move his body well and he doesn't really say any words. He has to sit in a wheelchair all day and have a teacher do most of his stuff for him.

Maya: Oh. I see.

Grace: Seriously. Why does he even come to our school anyway? He doesn't do any real reading, writing, math, or even talking. What good is he even gonna do for the world as he gets older? Having him around school is just a waste of time.

Maya: Grace, I… I… I think I just came up with an idea for our next field trip. If you excuse me, I have to go talk to Mr. Farkle about something important.

Scene 3:

-In a small theater like room, many children sat in chairs as they watched a group of teenagers and young adults finishing up a bit of singing. Some of the teenagers and young adults were sitting in wheelchairs, while others had hands and arms stuck in certain positions. When the singing ended, the children clapped. Some of the teenagers and young adults gave a bow and then left the stage they were on. Farkle then stood up and began to speak to all of the children.

Farkle: Thank you to all of my young friends that sat so well behaved through the show. Thank you to my actor friends who put on a great play. And of course thank you to Miss Maya for suggesting we bring everyone from after care to see what I do at my other job. I never would've thought to bring you all here to see the kind of work I do with individuals with disabilities until she suggested it. Plus, she put in a lot of work to arrange for our transportation on such short notice. So let's also give a quick clap for Miss Maya.

-Many of the children clapped as Maya sat behind all of the students and gave a quick wave. Once the clapping ended, Farkle spoke again.

Farkle: And of course the play couldn't have been done without the help from my amazing assistant director and friend: Leena Robins. Come on out Leena!

-From nearby, an adult female whose mouth was stuck in a partial smile came out and stood near Farkle.

Leena: Hiiiiiiiiiii everyone!

Farkle: Leena, thanks for taking care of all of the work backstage. I always appreciate it. I'll see you later tonight. Okay?

Leena: Okay. Biiiiiiiiiiiye.

-Leena walked away as Farkle looked at the children again.

Farkle: As you all know, everyone you saw performing and working on the stage crew today has some form of disability. From the kinds that are physical to ones in the mind. But from what I've learned as I've gotten to know Leena and everyone else here over the years is that God makes everyone with a purpose. We all were put on this Earth for a reason. And I've found that you start to really see the beauty in all people when you try to discover what reasons those around you are on this Earth for. And trust me when I say: even though there are many things the individuals that come here can't do, the few things they can do will really amaze you. Speaking of which, we even teach individuals here how to cook. And wait'll you all see the special meal they've prepared for you all in the dining room. Which is where we'll be headed next.

Scene 4:

-In a large dining room, many children sat at tables eating food. At one table sitting together were Maya, Farkle, and Grace.

Farkle: Mmm. Alvin must have prepared these biscuits. They are amazing! I'm gonna go get some seconds.

-Farkle then got up leaving Maya and Grace alone. As they sat together, Grace looked at Maya and spoke.

Grace: Miss Maya…

Maya: Yeah?

Grace: Why do so many people have to have disabilities?

Maya: Well… I don't know. But… if you really think about it… we all have disabilities in a way. Or maybe another word is disadvantages. We all have things we wish we had in our lives. Things that we know having around would make everything better. But sometimes… we just don't get to have or get to keep what we wanted.

Farkle: Well said.

-Maya and Grace turned their heads as they saw Farkle sit back down next to them.

Farkle: I never thought about it like that but Maya makes a good point Grace. Almost anyone could make the argument that they're deprived of something important. But even if you don't have that thing you wish you had or that ability you wish you had; that doesn't make you any less of a person. And that doesn't mean there isn't some kind of way you can contribute back to society.

Grace: Hmm.

-From nearby Leena walked over to the three and sat down with them.

Leena: Hiiiiii.

Farkle: And here she is. The girl that can never stop smiling. Grace, would you like to ask anything or say anything to Leena.

Grace: Uh…. hi Leena. Um… you do a good job following your teacher Mr. Farkle's directions.

Farkle: Oh, I'm not her teacher Grace. Like I said in the auditorium, Leena is an assistant. Not just in stage plays, but in everything that happens here. Leena's full time job is working in this building.

Grace: What? Really?

Leena: I work at desk. I clean up. I smiiiiiiiile at people. They feel better.

Farkle: Leena doesn't do phone calls or lead meetings. But she's actually an expert at keeping our paperwork and computer records organized. Plus she does great work cleaning up at night, and being a greeter when people come in during the day. When we use this building for our weekly blood drive, she's actually always the first person people see when they come in.

Grace: Wow. That's… interesting.

Leena: I hiiiiide cookies. You want one?

Grace: Uh, sure. Can I really?

Farkle: Yeah. They're the ones we give out at the blood drive. Go ahead. They're right near that table over there. But you only get one bag.

-Grace and Leena then got up and walked away together. Farkle made a small smile and then looked at Maya.

Farkle: I know that wasn't easy Maya.

Maya: Huh?

Farkle: When you said to Grace: we all have things we wish we had in our lives. Things that we know having around would make everything better.

Maya: Well… it's true.

Farkle: Yeah. So… listen… I know it still hurts inside considering everything that…

Maya: Yeah. It does.

Farkle: But… I'm glad that despite whatever you're feeling… that you've made time for these kids every day. I appreciate it. You've really made their lives a little better with each passing day.

-Maya then turned her head as she watched Grace and Leena getting a bag of cookies from the other side of the room.

Maya: Yeah… maybe.

Scene 5:

-In a school cafeteria, Grace walked into the room with a lunch tray looking for a place to sit. She saw most tables were taken. However there was a great deal of space at a table where Connor was at. Connor was sitting in his wheelchair holding a large pencil as the teacher: Miss Amy was sitting next to him. Grace then walked over to Connor and sat near him.

Grace: Hi. You mind if I sit here?

Miss Amy: Go ahead. Connor already finished eating earlier though. So he's just gonna draw near you if that's okay. Is it okay if she sits here Connor?

Connor: Aaaooooooo.

-Grace moved her head a bit to look at the paper in front of Connor. Suddenly Grace realized the picture was of a landscape with many brightly colored green trees and animals around them. Grace's face became very surprised.

Grace: Did Connor draw this?

Miss Amy: Yes he did. Most people are surprised when they see his work. But they forget: just because someone can't talk or get up, doesn't mean they can't do some amazing things with their hands.

Grace: I think I recognize this style. Are some of those pictures I saw hanging in the library his too?

Miss Amy: Yes they are. Connor is quite the busy artist. If he had never come to this school, people would've missed out on the opportunity to be touched and inspired by his amazing work.

Grace: Yeah. I guess so… Um… hey Connor. I draw too. You wanna see some of my work?

Connor: Aha! Aha!

Miss Amy: That usually means yes.

Grace: Okay. Well… let me you show you what I have.

-Grace then got out of her backpack several drawings. She then began to hold them out for Connor to see as the lunch period continued.

END OF CHAPTER 2

Upcoming Chapters For the Series:

-Chapter 3: Amazing Talents (Coming 4/27)

-Chapter 4: The Field Trip (Coming 4/30)

-Chapter 5: Shining Your Way (Coming 5/3)

*Note - To read the entire series in one convenient location, click here - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13266909/

#girl meets world #girl meets world fanfiction #gmw fanfic #riley and maya #riley x maya #rilaya #rilaya married

[you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus]

A prompt for tyrus: Buffy and Andie can see that TJ likes him back but Cyrus fails to see until they’re working on a school project together at the park and TJ mutters “fuck me” like not in the sexual way but like this is too much work way and Cyrus is like “maybe later” before realizing what he said and like they both go red

((Oh worm, I love this! I’m aging them up to like high school, just my preference. Also peep some other *romance*))

Warning: Cursing

“But you guys,” Cyrus drawled, “there’s literally no way that I’m going to be able to function!”

“You’re overreacting again,” Buffy cut in, twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she glanced over to Andi for support, “TJ is literally head over heels in love with you,”

“Don’t you trust Buffy? She knows what she’s saying.” Andi assured him, giving Buffy a playful shove of her shoulder. “Besides, have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“You mean with his eyes, like he does towards every other person ever?” Cyrus grumbled, roughly scratching out the answer to a math problem he was working on. “This isn’t working”

“The math problem or the TJ problem?” Buffy jeered, her lips curling into a smile.

“Both. What’s worse is that this project is just us! Why couldn’t Mr. Lande have made this a group assignment of more people. Or better yet, just make it an individual project!” Cyrus put his head in his hands. How was he going to survive?

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Andi shrugged, shoving her notebook in her backpack, “it probably makes sense for this to be just two people. It’s too much work for one, and group projects with many people usually end up with one person doing all the work,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

Cyrus opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang and cut him off. “And that‘s the cue,” he sighed, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders, “I gotta go to chemistry,”

“Yeah you do!” Buffy snorted, high fiving Andi and then allowing her hands to trail back up to her hair.

“I would say that I’m gonna kill you, but with the amount of energy I possess right now, I probably couldn’t kill an ant. See you guys later.” Cyrus walked down the hallway, his conversation with the girls replaying in his head. It seemed fake, that TJ could like him back. Cyrus had been crushing on him since middle school, and there was no way that TJ could like him back because why would–

“Underdog!” a familiar voice approached him, and Cyrus’ breath hitched. TJ was wearing glasses, and Cyrus was so weak for that. On top of that, his helmet-hair that he usually sported was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a whirlwind mess of hair. And Cyrus loved it.

“TJ, always a pleasure,” he greeted, taking a seat in his usual desk, while TJ chose the desk right next to him.

That’s funny, TJ always sits behind me, Cyrus noted, but shook the thoughts out of his head. This was no time to overanalyze TJ’s behavior. Now he needed to focus on…balancing equations. He stared up at the clock; two minutes had passed.

This was going to be a long day.

Eons later, the bell rang, and Cyrus was the first one to shove his textbook and pencils into his bag, rushing out of the classroom.

“And make sure that you work on your projects, class! They’re due tomorrow,” the teacher called, and Cyrus just groaned in response. On top of an essay and studying for a calculus test, he had to finish it by tomorrow?

Note to self, stop procrastinating, he mentally scolded himself.

“So what’s the plan?” TJ’s voice startled him, as the basketball player walker alongside him.

“Buy some ice cream and cry because I’m going to fail chemistry,” Cyrus replied, exhaustion lacing his voice.

“How about you just come over to my house after school and we can work on th project? I’ll make sure we have snacks,” he offered, blushing as he saw the smaller boy’s face light up.

“I’ll see you then,” Cyrus beamed, half-walking half-skipping to his next class. TJ watched him round the corner, the memory of his smile burned into his brain.

Yeah, he was whipped.

Cyrus knocked on TJ’s door, rocking back on his heels as his teeth chattered. Would it have been wise to bring a jacket? Yes. But Cyrus was worried that he was going to be late so he didn’t bother to even check the weather because he didn’t get a notification on his phone because he was busy–

Footsteps from inside snapped Cyrus out his train of thoughts, absentmindedly fixing his hair and smoothing out his shirt. Not like he was wearing anything fancy, just a pair of jeans and a shirt with a rainbow on it. After a few moments, the door creaked open to reveal a stressed out TJ, donning a green tee and these sweatpants. Cyrus had to smile; somehow they both got the gay memo.

“Not So Scary Basketball Guy, looking gay as ever,” Cyrus joked, stepping inside and being enveloped by the warmth.

“Right back at you,” TJ replied, his voice strained, “okay, so are we gonna work on this project? We gotta get going because we need to do well so we can get a good grade so that I don’t fail the class and when the colleges look at my grades they can-”

“TJ, you look like you’re gonna pass out. Take a breath, sit down,” Cyrus instructed him. He could practically hear his four shrink parents telling him what to do next. They took a seat on a few cushions that were sprawled on the shagged carpeting.

“We’re going to do fine on this project, TJ,” Cyrus started, placing his hand on the other boy’s knee, “We can finish it tonight, I know we can. Just..take a breath,”

TJ nodded weakly, his hand absentmindedly trailing over to Cyrus’, his fingers on top of the other boy’s. “I need a good grade in chemistry,” he repeated, this time less frantic, “My parents are on my back about my grades, and I just…I’m gonna let them down,”

As if Cyrus could hear TJ’s heart breaking, he shifted closer. “Don’t say that. You’re not gonna let them down. I promise I won’t let that happen,” he assured him, and a small smile ghosted TJ’s lips. “Now, let me just grab the assignment paper,” he muttered, begrudgingly removing his hand from TJ’s, and fishing through his backpack. He pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper and scanned it.

“Okay, so we need to research the history behind five of the elements that were man made, who ‘invented’ them, details regarding their reactivity, and why they were named the way they were,” he read off the sheet, letting out a tired breath.

“Fuck me,” TJ muttered under his breath; that sounded like a lot of work.

“Maybe later,” Cyrus replied nearly silently, but TJ’s gaze showed that it wasn’t that quiet. Both boys went red with embarrassment, and the air was thick with tension.

“What?” TJ squeaked out his eyes searching Cyrus’ for some sort of explanation.

“Nothing! It was…nothing,” Cyrus lied, and he knew his ears were burning an inhumane shade of red.

“Mhm,” TJ hummed in response, unconvinced, “so back to…chemistry,” he snickered, raising his brows at Cyrus.

“Stop that, I feel attacked,” he pouted, pushing out his lower lip and furrowing his brows.

“And you almost look cute enough to make me stop,” TJ blurted out, and now it was his turn to feel his ears burn with embarrassment.

“What was that?” Cyrus toyed with him, leaning on his hands and smirking, “I’m cute, huh?”

“Oh, fuck you,” TJ snorted, giving Cyrus a gentle push.

“You wish,” Cyrus retorted, a deep blush dusting his cheeks as his arms gave out beneath him and he lay on his back.

“Shut up,” TJ cooed, crossing his arms playfully.

“And what if I don’t?” he shot back cleverly, his eyes flitting from TJ’s eyes to his lips and back too his eyes…then back to his lips.

TJ shrugged nonchalantly, his heart beating so loud he thought Cyrus could hear it. “You won’t pass chemistry without my help,” he commented, to which Cyrus smirked.

“You’re probably right,” Cyrus grinned, tugging on TJ’s shirt and pulling him down until their noses were touching, “help me pass chemistry?”

“Gladly,” TJ whispered, meeting Cyrus’ lips and feeling his elbows weaken underneath him. It was messy, neither boy truly knowing what to do, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

And yes, both boys were doing great in chemistry.

tag list:

@shortstackofpeaches @seanna313 @geekingbeautytx @heavenlybyers @ghostswasp @wlwandimack @giocondasstuff @lemonboytyrus @adorejrizzle @swingsetboys​ @ifellintotyrushell

#asks #my asks #anon #answered #andi mack #andi mack asks #tyrus #tyrus fic #tyrus fanfic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #theo writes #my fics

[rappin-with-cap]

Rappin’ with Cap

“You don’t have to be injected with a super secret government serum to have strong muscles and bones. A well balanced diet is one of the best ways to help keep your body healthy. The food pyramid will help you find the balance.”

Peter sat in the bleachers, staring opened mouthed at the TV screen. Captain America, the Captain America, had filmed ‘life lessons’ for his high school gym class. The Captain that saved him from Doctor Doom. The Steve Rogers that helped him with his history homework. The Steve that can’t operate his smartphone without asking one of the other Avengers for help.

The other Avengers. Do they know? Peter thought. He pulled out his phone while his teacher was busy looking at his clipboard and started recording. He couldn’t wait to see Mr. Stark after school today.

---------------

As soon as the final bell rang, Peter raced out of the building. He rushed to the Jaguar parked outside his school, nearly slamming into the side of the car in his excitement. When he opened the door, Peter started talking immediately.

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark, you’re not going to believe what happened in gym class today. We were shown this video-”

“Why are you in the front seat?”

Peter turned to see Happy sitting in the driver’s seat instead of Mr. Stark.

“Mr. Stark usually lets me sit in the front seat. But anyways, there’s this video of Mr. Rogers and-”

“Get in the backseat, kid.” Peter climbs into the backseat and starts talking again. Happy rolls up the partition and begins driving.

-------------

When Peter arrived at the Avengers Compound he went straight to Mr. Stark’s lab. He burst in through the door, threw his backpack onto his workbench and rushed over to Mr. Stark.

“Okay, first of all, what did I tell you about throwing your backpack around in the lab? Second, why are you-?”

“I know, I know, but this is important.” Peter said as he fumbled for his phone.

“More important than lab safety protocol?” Tony asked. Peter said nothing as he handed his phone to Tony and watched his face as the video played.

Tony’s eyes widened while a smile grew from ear to ear. He looked at Peter and said, “This day just went from good to great.”

“Well, it’s about to get better.” Peter said. After a dramatic pause he whispered, “There’s more.”

“Kid, I’m gonna need those files.” Tony’s eyes gleamed, borderline manic. “The compound is about to educated by our lovely Cap.”

----------------

The next morning was a rare occasion when everyone was awake early enough to see Peter off to school. The only person missing was the kid himself. At five minutes before Peter would normally leave, he came running through the kitchen.

“I am so gunna be late,” Peter said as he grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth.

“So no breakfast today?” Nat asked. Peter shook his head as he made for the door. Tony saw his chance and took it.

“Wait, Peter!” Tony called out. Peter stopped before the elevator and looked at Tony. “You can’t leave without a lunch. You know,” he paused, looked at Cap then said, “A hot lunch is key to a well balanced diet and a healthy body.”

Clint snorted into his coffee and Peter struggled to keep the smile off his face as he ran out the door.

Bruce turned away from the fridge, carton in hand. “I didn’t know you were the healthy type, Tony.”

Clint clapped the doctor on the shoulder, “Oh, I’ve got something you need to see.”

Steve’s face was still frozen in a mask of confusion as he turned away from where Peter disappeared. He turned to Tony, glare already in place but he was met with Stark’s poor attempt at a face of innocence.

“Tony, you know you can’t hide when you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing,” Steve said.

Before Tony could reply the alarm sounded to assemble.

----------------

They were called to an explosion at a warehouse that turned out to be one of Hyrda’s bases. As Tony flew in from above he couldn’t help but start to snicker.

“What are you cackling about, Stark?” Rhodey asked over the comms.

“Oh, nothing,” Tony began. “Just that these Hydra people should know better than to set off illegal fireworks.”

Tony began to hear Rhodey snorting through his ear piece accompanied by Falcon saying, “Well, if any of you catch on fire, remember to stop, drop, and roll.”

Steve looked at Falcon with dawning realization that the rest of the group understood what Tony was referencing and that he didn’t know.

Bucky’s voice crackled over the comms, “One more time, everybody, say it with me now-”

Natasha chimed, “Stop.”

Clint, “Drop.”

Wanda, “And roll.”

Falcon looked at Bucky, both wearing shit-eating grins while Steve glanced between the two of them.

“The two of you getting along,” Steve said. “I’m not used to it.”

Back on the hellacarrier, once everyone was seated, Bruce cleared his throat and smiled. “I understood that reference.”

Steve squinted at the doctor as he left the table.

---------------

That night everyone was relaxing in their own way. Nat and Clint were watching a movie about ninjas. Tony was helping Peter practice for the decathlon. Wanda was helping Vision improve his cooking skills. Steve was catching up on his reading with Harry Potter.

“Alright, kid, break time. Go grab us some chips and dip,” Tony said. He looked over at Cap at just the right moment and saw him scratch his head. Tony was about to say something when Vision spoke up from the kitchen.

“It’s okay, Captain. Don’t be afraid,” Everyone looked at Vision in confusion before he continued, “Stand up, keep your head held high, and be a hero.”

Wanda dropped the jar of spice she held in her hand as she fell to the floor laughing. Steve slammed his book shut as he stood to face the room.

“Alright, that’s enough. Someone tell me what’s going on.” Steve demanded angrily.

Thor walked into the room as he heard Cap shout. He walked over to his friend, clapped him on the shoulder and said in a serious tone, “It’s alright, Steve. Your body is going through some changes so your hormones will be out of sorts. It’s okay to feel angry sometimes.”

Peter wheezed next to Wanda on the floor, chips and dip forgotten. Clint shoved his face into the couch cushions and Natasha hid her smile behind her fist. Tony sat at the table with the biggest smile on his face and got up to hug Vision, who returned it with some confusion.

Steve brushed off Thor’s hand and glared at each person in the room before stomping down the hallway.

Clint emerged from the cushions, “Did you see his face?”

“Who knew our Captain could get that angry,” Tony replied as he went to pick up the chips from the floor.

-----------------

The next day everyone was in the war room waiting to be briefed on their next long term assignments. The Avengers could feel the tension in the air as Steve pouted in his chair and refused to make eye contact with anyone.

Natasha, Bruce and Tony stood next to the coffee machine in the corner of the room. They watched as Cap leafed through the briefing packet. Each flick of the page slightly more forceful than the last.

“As fun as teasing Steve is, we should probably lay off for a few days,” Natasha whispered to them.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Tony said as he sipped his coffee.

“Come on, Tony, Cap is really angry,” Bruce whispered.

Tony looked at Bruce and sighed. “Fine, we’ll give Capsicle a break.”

Nick Fury walked into the room followed by another agent. He went to the head of the table and said, “Alright, let’s get this started. This is Agent Rovelle who will be partnered with some of you on your individual missions.”

Steve gave Fury a concerned look as he said, “Hopefully you mean she won’t be out in the field since she is,” he paused as he continued quietly, “Pregnant.”

“No, I’ll be operating strictly from within the compound,” the agent replied. Steve gave an approving nod.

“Steve, I’m not so cruel as to make one of my own agent’s go out into the field while she is,” Fury paused as he looked Steve in the eye with his own before he continued. “Still in the process of human reproduction activities.”

Tony’s jaw dropped and he flung himself back with laughter. Clint snickered and Natasha slapped upside the back of his head. Bruce coughed to cover his laugh. Wanda was curled into Vision as she giggled. Rhodey and Sam smirked at each other. Peter’s face was bright red as he remembered the exact video they were referencing from his health class. Bucky tried to fight the smile as he glanced at Steve.

Steve’s mouth hung open and he quickly snapped it shut. He glared at Fury and swept his gaze around the room. “Until one of you steps up and tells me what the hell is going on, I will not be a part of any of these assignments.”

“Why, Mr. Rogers,” Tony said with feigned shock, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Such language.”

-----------------

The group stood in Tony’s workshop going over the new weapons that he just upgraded. Natasha twirled her new knives around her fingers as Clint adjusted his bow. Sam just put on his new pack when Steve walked in. Tony looked up from the holoscreen and smirked.

“Hey, Cap, I got your new armor right here,” Tony gestured. Steve patted Sam on the shoulder and walked over to Tony.

He shrugged it on and wondered at the weightlessness of the armor. Rhodey watched from the couch and caught Tony’s eye. “You know, from one soldier to another, Rogers,” Rhodey started, “You know what the most important weapon is that we can have?”

Steve looked up with eager eyes. Bucky sat down next to Rhodey and answered, “Math.”

Tony let the holoscreen fall from his hand to the table as he bent forward and cackled. Steve glared at Tony as he shucked off the new armor and dropped it to the floor. As he walked out of the room he shouted over his shoulder. “Let me know when you all want to stop behaving like the three-year-olds that you are.”

The glass door slid closed and not a beat later, Bruce didn’t even look up from the files he was reading. “But you know what’s better?” He paused. “Reading.”

Bucky and Rhody nearly slid off the couch as their laughter rose in pitch.

------------

The Avengers were gathered in the common room after a rough mission. Everyone sat scattered across the couches and floor with some bad spy movie playing. The hero was just about to head into his enemy’s lair when he turned to his sidekick and said, “This just might be the toughest enemy we’ve ever had to face…”

Steve heard Sam snicker beside him. He turned to look at him to find he was already staring at him with a wide smile on his face. Before Sam had a chance to deliver his joke, Steve stood up in front of the TV with his arms crossed and said, “Friday, mute the TV.” He glared at the Avengers.

The rest of them started to shout and talk over each other for Steve to sit back down. Peter fidgeted on the couch and stood up. “Uh, Mr. Rogers.”

Everyone stopped talking as they watched the kid shuffled back and forth on his feet. Steve raised his eyebrow at him and waited for him to continue.

“Okay, so, um, you know how everyone has been, uh, laughing at…” Peter looked up at Steve then back at his feet. He took a big breath and said all at once, “Well, it’s because, I showed Mr. Stark the videos of you that you made for school.”

“Huh?” Steve said.

“You know, those educational videos?” Peter said, hesitantly.

“Educational-”

“I can show the Captain what you are talking about, Mr. Parker,” Friday said. The TV behind Steve lit up with red, white and blue colors as a band fanfare played over the speakers. Peter stared wide eyed at the screen as Steve slowly turned around to watch the screen.

“You don’t have to be injected with a super secret government serum to have strong muscles and bones. A well balanced diet is one of the best ways to-”

Steve walked out of the room as the rest of the Avengers devolved into manic laughter.

---------

Everyone was seated eating breakfast. Tony poured Bruce another cup of coffee when Steve came strolling in after his morning run, Sam not far behind him. The two sat down at the table. Clint shoved some plates of food towards them and reached for the box of Poptarts Thor hugged to his chest. The god offered one up and just before Clint took a bite, Bucky piped up from sink, “Watch out for that tooth decay.”

Snickers and giggles rippled through the kitchen. Steve set his head down on the table and groaned.

#avengers #mcu #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #avengers fanfic #mcu fanfic #peter parker #spiderman #black widow #garrett hawke #war machine #the winter soldier #bruce banner #the hulk #thor #bucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers fanfic #falcon #rappin with cap #spiderman homecoming #captain america fanfic #we're not sorry #this needs to be a thing okay #the fic you didnt know you needed

[parkjmini]

a wasted youth - 01 | bts

highschool!au: bts understanding the concept of love becomes harder to grasp as you and seven boys struggle with your own individual issues and the fear of becoming a wasted youth. word count: 1994 genre: angst? possibly unknown ?? does not guarantee happy endings  warnings: explicit language 

a/n: read this before proceeding !!! chapter 2 will be uploaded on @peachiejihoonie‘s blog and the link will be added here once she posts it!!

It was going to be your final year of high school --- senior year. It was the year that was set between starting young adulthood and enjoying the last year of your youth. It was the year to make everything count, no more room for procrastination or messing up. 

This last year will be the epitome of high school memories. There will never be a time as sweet as your senior year. It was important, however, you didn’t recognize its importance. 

You walked into your high school and felt as if it was any other day. Your best friend, Hoseok, hurried up at your side to greet you after the long summer vacation. “Hey sunshine! Are you excited!? It’s our last year of high school. We’re seniors.” A sheer glisten covered his doll eyes.

You groaned, a shrug following your response. “Honestly Hoseok, I don’t really care. It’s just another school year filled with stress and annoying people.” 

“You’re not going to have a fun time with that attitude. Cheer up! It’s our final year of high school, the ultimate year!” He chimed enthusiastically. 

You two parted ways when you arrived at your first class. Hoseok had already expressed his disappointment of only having one class with you. The rest of your classes, you were alone and that forced you to interacted with other people. 

“Jungkook!” Someone pushed you forward to get past. Your attention drew towards the mention of the familiar name. Eyes locked, Jungkook stared at you over the many heads that dare blocked him. 

Hurrying to sit down, you dropped your things onto the nearest desk. The classroom was bustling with noise and laughter. A few people came up to greet you and asked about your summer. Small talk droned on until you weren’t sure what to say anymore.

“It almost felt like you were avoiding me.” Jungkook randomly popped up next to you. He planted himself in the other seat, interrupting your boring conversation with an acquaintance. Rolling your eyes, you groaned at how rude he was being.

“I’m talking to someone, Jungkook.” You sighed and your friend excused herself, lightly fanatic about Jungkook being a few feet away from her.

“Well, you’re talking to me now. Is that okay with you?” Jungkook turned your seat around to face him. His legs spread open for you to fill the gap.

Jungkook, the heartthrob. Jungkook, the hot popular jock. Jungkook, the flirt. There were many titles that he lived up to. His crew was the most popular group in school, consisting of him, Kim Taehyung, and Park Jimin. They were the all-star athletes, the school’s prized possessions, the winners. Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung were top three in their division for Track and Field. 

Sports were apparently a huge thing in high school culture, yet you never bothered to show any interest. You were athletic, but not to the point of trying out for sports. It was either you do sports and you’re popular, or you don’t and you’re practically a nobody. That was how things were around your school.

Now why was a somebody talking to a nobody? You and Jungkook shared many classes in the past years of school, to the point where you’re completely sick of seeing his smug smiles. His sociable personality captivated you as well as many others. There was something about how his words danced out of his mouth or how his eyes never seem to grow tired.

His eyes held the galaxies, and he, himself, was a star. He was number one in everything he did. He was academically impressive and incredibly vigilant in athletics. Some may even argue that he was first in charm and looks. You noticed, however, it never really stayed in your head. You merely saw him as Jungkook. 

“I have nothing to say to you.” You scoffed and crossed your arms.

Jungkook pouted, blinking his round puppy eyes. “But I have a lot to say to you. Let me start of by saying that you look better from what I remember. Is that mascara you’re wearing?” 

“Like you know anything about makeup.” Rolling your eyes, you kicked yourself around and out of his trap.

“I know everything about you.” He smirked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his exposed knees. 

You rubbed your temples to show that you were getting annoyed with his flirtatious behavior. It was only the first twenty minutes of your senior year, and Jungkook was already flirting up a storm with you. “I hope we don’t have any other classes together because I will not be able to stand seeing your face all the time.”

“Lighten up, it’s our senior year. You’ll miss me, I know you will.” He grabbed your class schedule out of your hand and paired it next to his. He laughed, and pointed to a class toward the bottom of the sheet. “Period 6, Health.”

“I knew I should’ve taken it over the summer with Hoseok when I had the chance.” You groaned, but he shook his head.

“It’s not with me, babe. You have that with Tae. You also have AP Language with Jimin.” He analyzed and handed it back to you. 

You scoffed, “Taehyung, I understand. Jimin, in AP Language? That I am surprised at.” 

“Hey, leave my boys alone. Jimin is a smart guy, maybe not the brightest, but he’s still pretty intelligent.” Jungkook whispered as your Psychology teacher introduced herself to the class.

“He tries to make himself seem intelligent.” You mumbled and Jungkook rolled his eyes. “And I won’t miss you one bit after high school, Kook.” 

He smirked, “the more you deny it, the more I’m going to believe you’ll miss me.” 

You hurried to your next class before the mob of underclassmen filled the tight halls. A few of your old acquaintances waved to you as you sped by. You didn’t have many friends, but you were very sociable. No one ever lasted like Hoseok did. 

Hoseok was your best friend ever since preschool. Your families were close because your parents couldn’t afford day care, so that meant daily trade offs. However, you didn’t mind and Hoseok didn’t either. 

You two were inseparable, grew up going to the same schools and meeting the same people. He was always there and stuck with you through every moody day. 

Hoseok knew every quirk, every horrible habit, every ugly moment, every single thing about you. You two practically lived at each other’s houses. If you weren’t home, you were over at Hoseok’s, who lived five minutes away. 

You were grateful for him, even though you never told him enough. Hoseok could be anyone’s best friend, but he chose to stay your’s. He wasn’t awkward or ever come off as cold. He was the definition of happiness and the literal sun of your life, but he’s super stubborn that you are his.

Everyone loved Hoseok, if you didn’t, then it meant that you were the asshole. He had no bad bone in his body and possessed the greatest qualities. He made everyone feel comfortable and happy. That was the person he was and you hoped that he’d remain by your side for a long time. 

And while you knew you were fucked for college, you promised Hoseok that you didn’t think that far and to live in the moment. 

You stepped into the crowded room and your Calculus teacher mindlessly sat at his computer. Namjoon peered up from his seat at the front and then at the empty spot next to him, the only seat left. 

Groaning, you dragged your heavy body to his side and scooted over a little more away from him. “I don’t bite, (Y/N).” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard otherwise.” You scoffed and looked around at the unfamiliar faces. You were unsure why you were in Calculus, math was never really your strong suit. 

Namjoon, on the other hand, was an Honors student with outstanding grades. He was stuck up and an annoying know it all. He’d be quick to correct someone if they were wrong. The type to remind the teacher about homework. 

While he still had friends, many still disliked him. You were one of those people. It all rooted back when you were up against him for a debate and he made a complete fool of you. The fact wasn’t that he had an excellent deliver and you were unprepared, but how he never bothered to apologize for humiliating you. 

“Rumors never helped with development.” He mumbled, his pencil tapping against his temple.

Rolling your eyes, “we have nothing to develop, Namjoon.” 

“I’d like to be friends one day before we graduate, I don’t particularly like the hostile environment.” 

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have created it in the first place.” 

Namjoon chuckled, and you thought your eyes were going to permanently stay in the back of your head. “Only you could hold a grudge for three years.”

“And only you could be even more of a prick than you were the previous year.” 

“Welcome to Calculus AB, class. Prepare for absolute death and sleepless nights.” Mr. Yuen happily opened his arms. 

And you sat there in your seat, with the fear planted in your head that you were completely fucked for this class.

“AP Language and Composition stems from being argumentative in your piece of writings. The specific diction used...” Your teacher droned on while going over the overview of the class.

Your attention was more focused Park Jimin staring at you from across the table. Why was he in AP? How did he make it in? Why was he staring at you?

“(Y/N)?” Ms. Madden called out your name for roll call.

“Here.” You rose your hand, and Jimin’s eyes remained glued on you.

“Jimin?” No response. The class looked around for the infamous boy, who blinked helplessly at your figure. “Is Jimin here?” 

You squinted at him, confused at how he sat there motionless. “Park Jimin?”

You kicked him under the table and he jolted out of his trance, “here!” 

“A little dazed there, Jimin?” Ms. Madden giggled and continued with the list.

“Why are you staring at me?” You whispered, bluntly.

Jimin shrugged, “I’m staring at the ground behind you.” His head ducked down and the girl to his right laughed at your question, almost mocking you.

“Like he’d be staring at you. You don’t have much to stare at, (Y/N).” She snickered. Biting your tongue, you fought the urge to lash out. 

Jimin, however, could not resist and turned to her with confused expression. “It’s not about quantity, Rachel, it’s about quality. (Y/N) has the nicest eyes and smile in this class and those could be the only things I stare at for the rest of my life and I’d be completely okay with that.” 

You gulped, unsure how to feel about what Jimin was saying. You and him were never really on speaking terms. You mainly talked to Taehyung and Jungkook because they were the most friendly. Jimin had always been closed off and you’ve always felt this strange hatred he had for you.

He took a glimpse at your confused expression and cleared his throat, “don’t be too flattered, (Y/N). I said this class, not the entire school. It’s because this class is filled with try-hards.” 

“And what does that make you, Jimin?” It was a rhetorical question, seeing that the Almighty Park Jimin was sitting among the many he called try-hards.

“You’re just as try-hard as any one of us, Jimin.” Rachel took her stance to get back at Jimin, but he only waved her off.

“As much as I am one, I will never be one of you.” 

“What’s so wrong with that?” You wanted to keep asking him, seeing how far you can take it before he breaks.

“Well, (Y/N), that’s a conversation for another day.” Tilting his head, a small smirk danced across his face, but his eyes remained empty and cold. 

#awybts #kwritersnet #jiminnetwork #bts #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #seokjin #park jimn #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop scenario #beyond the scene #bangtan #bangtan boys

[literaryfaeriecorner]

02/21/2021: Promotions, Old Friends, and Yellow School Buses

link to original post

February 21st, 2021

somehow i received a promotion at work last Friday even though i am literally probably one of the LEAST motivated people teaching at that school... fuck. so... now, instead of just being a regular-schmegular teacher, i am now the '6th grade head social studies teacher' which means that i have to run planning meetings for the social studies team, attend morning meetings discussing whole-grade growth and failings, and solutions for how we're going to get the kids to... not suck. uuuuuuggggghhhhhh!!! and this is for the rest of the year and the next!!!!

apparently, i am the 'perfect person' for this position because all of my classes have consistently performed better than the rest... but between you, me, and the entire internet, that speaks more to the abilities of my students than my own personal abilities as a teacher. i don't believe i'm a sucky teacher or anything but the fact remains that between work, grad school, delusional lovesick-related episodes, mental illness, and other varying distractions, i am not Doing The Best I Can. in fact, i'm literally in survival mode 95% of the time. the other 5% of the time, i'm in manic-as-fuck mode. so... do i really DESERVE this promotion? who even fucking knows? i like to believe, however, that i'll eventually figure out how to bullshit this new responsibility as well and no one will be the wiser. i mean, if this promotion came with a financial boost as well, i'd be more inclined to not fuck it up but, like... i'm doing more work for the same weak ass pay... i'm not as motivated with kind words and encouragement than i would be with a solid boost to my pay grade. anyway... whatever.

i was on tumblr the other day (i am fasting from all social media sites during the day for Lent but tumblr doesn't count because i literally just reblog five or six posts into the void, look at sad literature quotes, and log out just to do it all over again the next day... i am not addicted to tumblr as i am to twitter, instagram, pinterest, and linkedin... yes, linkedin. my quest to escape my job has led me down a very weird and addictive path) and i came across this post by user beetlejuices:

"isn't it all about old friends? like everything? all of it?"

and it is. i think so. i really do.

one of the things i've been conscious of in my early adulthood is that i am still chasing after the friendships i had in middle school. i wrote about this two Lents ago too. there is a memory that i remember so vividly in middle school and it reminds me constantly about how i felt so loved and appreciated and like the world couldn't go on without me if i somehow left or disappeared or went away. i think about it all the time. that is how freeing and loving and whole it is. just a simple memory of being three hours late to school (after a huge, blown out argument between parents who should've divorced years ago) and being startled by a flood of texts that starting pouring in at 7 that morning.

ashley: YOOOO where r u? they snagged all the donuts from the corner store!

alysha: you missed the bus this morning?

ashley: i bought donuts off eman 4 u... say im the best :D

kiera: U MISSED CRYSTAL'S FAT HEAD ASS SLIP DOWN THE STEPS LMAOOO

kiera: u're always here early u good?

alysha: are you coming 2 school today?

ashley: are u ok?

Christyl: don't forget we have a test in math!! where are you?

kiera: babe?

ashley: are you ok? why is ur phone off?

alysha: i just talked to ashley are u ok?

Christyl: where r u?

kiera: i just talked to ashley r u ok?

kiera: none of ur sisters r here either... u ok?

ashley: i'll call again @ lunch

alysha: pls be safe

Christyl: i'll tell the teacher you're sick and maybe you can take it tomorrow

Christyl: are you ok?

and even more messages that were sent during and inbetween classes... i thought it was a bit too late (and too time consuming) to respond to them all individually so after being signed into school three hours late, i decided to wait for all my friends at our table in the cafeteria to surprise them before explaining my mess of a morning. i was nervous because i thought they would be mad at me for some reason. but as soon as they saw me, ashley, alysha, kiera, and christyl, they came barreling towards me screaming my name. it was an entire scene. people looking at them crazy and then raising their eyebrows at me, not seeing what the big deal was. i probably looked the same exact way that i did the day before. unspectacular, bookish, awkward. they couldn't see what the big deal was. it embarrassed me but it thrilled me at the same time.

they nearly knocked me to the floor pushing each other to get to me first trying to steal the first hug. in the end, i stretched my arms out as far as i could and they all fell into them. we probably looked a mess. a tangle of brown legs, arms, frizzy hair, loose braids, and scuffed dress shoes. i remember feeling so loved and wanted. i felt bigger and grander than i was. i had stopped the world for five entire minutes and i didn't do anything. i was just existing.

i don't really talk to any of the girls anymore. i follow them on social media and i wish them happy birthday every year and we're all on each other's close friends list on insta... so i still know a few, if not all, of their secrets... but we'll probably never be as close as we were in middle school. and that's ok. i still love them as much as i did when they tackled me in the lunch room that day. i still root and cheer for them like we still spend every night after school on the phone for hours talking shit and planning presidential campaigns and gossiping about boys. i will never forget that day in the lunchroom. ever. and, like i said, it has only occurred to me now, as a young adult, that i've been chasing that kind of friendship and sisterhood since it happened.

i like to treat all my friendships as mini-romances. i remember a tweet that said, "friendships ARE romance," and i agree. i think i'm in love with all of my close friends, if not all of my friends. it's embarrassing (just a bit) but i have probably fallen in love with all of my friends at least once or twice. this is especially true for my group of college friends (at this point, they are really family). i have been in love, at least once, with all eight of them throughout our four years. i don't actually find this embarrassing like i said earlier. what's embarrassing is that this information might embarrass other people which, in turn, would thoroughly embarrass me. but the fact itself doesn't embarrass me. that is how i am. i fall in love and out of love at breakneck speeds. i think it's important to be a little bit in love with your friends.

i really enjoyed being in undergrad and planning literal dates between all eight or nine of us. and we would call it that. "what are we doing for our date next weekend?" "so who's going on the date tomorrow?" "are we cancelling the date or does the weather not matter?" (the weather always mattered.) my favorite college date was valentine's day senior year. we all went to korean-style karaoke and ordered so much food and drink we could barely stand to sing. we were all sat around the tv singing horribly to mariah carey or beyonce or rapping to nicki minaj verses. we took so many bad pictures and tone deaf videos and we kept leaning or hugging or holding each other's hands. that's another thing i love about my college family. most of us are touchy-feely people. i am a touchy-feely person. i'm southern and my mom is ridiculously gooey so one of my love languages, inevitably, is touch. i, usually, reign it in A LOT unless i have a partner but in college, i somehow discovered a whole group of people who loved to kiss each other on the cheek and hold hands and lean on other people, and lock arms. i felt at home. really.

maybe it's not only about old friends, though. maybe it's about feeling at home.

there was another post on tumblr and i think about it a lot. it's a screenshot of a tweet from twitter user @HumbleCore.

"HUGE NEWS: finally found my best friend from middle school on FB. We've both been looking for each other for over a decade. I told her I think about her whenever I play any boardgame or drive by a church. She told me she uses my name as her password at work. A perfect reunion."

when i read that the other night, i cried. i don't know why. it was heavy and ridiculous and i was worried my roommates would hear me. i don't know why i cried. at all. and even typing it out like that made me want to cry again. the feeling is not as strong or as overwhelming as it was the first time but it's still there.

i think about a best friend i had in first grade. even before i thought of ashley as my best friend (i have known Middle School Ashley since the first grade. i thought we were destined to be best friends forever and ever and ever, which is what i wrote in her middle school yearbook). his name was Malik. or Malique. my memory fails me. but anyway, i loved him like crazy. we didn't do anything without the other. we shared lunch together, we HAD to be partners on every field trip, i cried when Ms. Sanchez moved my seat from his in an effort to stop us from disrupting her lessons and i hated her for an entire week. (a very long time from a first-grade perspective.) even now, i think about him whenever i go to petting zoos or farms and when i ride on yellow school buses with my students.

Malik/Malique was my first kiss. we were hiding from Ms. Sanchez and the other chaperones so we could pet the goats one last time. while we were hiding behind a barn, he kissed me. "for good luck," he said. and then we sprinted across the farm to get back to the goats. and we pet them again before Ms. Sanchez found us and ordered us back on the big yellow school bus where we held hands for the entire hour-long ride back to school.

it's very silly to think now but in high school when i was trying to determine whether i loved my first boyfriend or not i remember thinking, "well, does he make me feel like Malik/Malique?" it's silly but sweet. at fourteen, still comparing the way he made me feel behind a barn at 5 years old to how another boy, years and years later, made me feel. it is silly but i think it's sweet.

i don't actually have any interest in finding Malik/Malique or knowing for certain what he does or how he's doing because i seriously doubt i had such an impact on his life, but i hope he's well and alive and happy because that's what i always naturally hope for when i pass petting zoos or farms or see bright yellow school buses.

so, yes. i think everything, us, our relationships, the entire world, is about old friends. all of it. every last bit of it.

i have a whole-grade data analysis, 300 pages of reading, and two mini-papers for classes to finish before tonight so i'm going to get going... i just wanted to write about old friends first.

#on love #on friendship #on teaching #on community #stream of conscious #crushes

[suramed-health-center]

Children Returning to School During COVID-19

Many parents may be wondering how their children can return to school safely during and after COVID-19. While it is clear that many children learn best when they are physically in school, returning to school needs to be taken seriously and meticulous steps must be taken to keep students and staff safe.

Why School is so Important for Children:

Schools go beyond just a learning space for children and adolescents. Along with learning the necessary math and reading skills, children receive exercise and learn emotional and social skills from going to school. A school is also a place where children have support, access to the internet, daily meals, and more. Some of these benefits that children receive in a school environment are not given in their homes.

While the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) has stated that children and adolescents appear less likely to become infected with COVID-19 or spread it, it is still important for parents, teachers and health care professionals to take extra precautions, especially when it comes to returning to classes.

Steps for Returning to School:

There are a variety of steps that schools should take when returning to classes. These steps include:

Taking temperatures and testing: Most schools cannot provide COVID testing for all of their students and taking students temperatures has its discrepancies as well. Schools need to establish ways to identify students who have symptoms of an illness or have a fever. Schools may benefit from Frequently reminding students and staff to stay home if they feel ill, have a fever of 100.4 degrees or higher, or have been exposed to someone who has tested positive for COVID-19.

Social and Physical Distancing: The goal of preventing the spread of COVID-19 is to stay six feet apart. Staff members who are more likely to contract COVID-19 should stay a full six feet apart from students and other staff members. Staff should not have in-person meetings and always wear a mask or cloth face covering.

Cloth Face Coverings and Frequent Hand Washing: Staff and adults should always wear a mask or cloth face covering. Both students and staff should practice good hand    hygiene and frequently wash their hands. While there are vast differences in how preschool, elementary and secondary students handle wearing masks and staying six feet apart, there are varying options. Preschool and elementary students who do not touch   their mouths or noses often, can benefit from wearing a cloth face covering. Students in secondary schools should wear cloth face coverings or masks and practice social distancing.

Limit Student Interaction: Rather than sending students to change classrooms, have teachers float among classrooms to avoid busy hallways during passing periods.

Have in-class Lunches: Having in-class lunches avoids crowded lunchrooms.

Clean and disinfect: To properly disinfect and sanitize classrooms, teachers should follow CDC guidelines at all times.

Crowded Spaces:

Hallways, playgrounds, and buses are all spaces in schools that become crowded and can potentially expose children to COVID-19. To help prevent the spread of the virus in crowded spaces, schools can:

Mark hallways and stairs with arrows to minimize the amount of crowding in hallways.

Encourage students who have access to a ride, to use that option. For students who can only take the bus, they should have assigned seats and be required to wear a cloth face    covering.

Students should be allowed to have time for outdoor activities, as long as they are in small groups and everyone remains six feet apart.

Students with Disabilities:

Transitioning back to school after not having instruction time, occupational therapy, speech therapy, or mental health services can be very challenging for students with disabilities. Schools should always follow a child’s Individual Education Program before and after they return to school and continue providing services, even if they have to continue distance learning.

Catching up:

Distance learning can make some students feel pressured to catch up if they have not learned much through virtual classes. Schools should prepare to adjust their curriculum and make up for lost progress while balancing core subjects, physical education, and learning experiences.

Healthy Meals:

More children may qualify for free or reduced lunch than before the pandemic. For this reason, schools should provide meal programs.

High-risk Students:

Students who are at high risk of getting COVID-19 may need to continue distance learning. Parents should communicate with their child’s teachers and pediatricians to stay as safe as possible.

Immunizations:

Students should stay up to date with immunizations when returning to school. To reduce the spread of influenza this fall and winter, students and staff should get their flu shot.

Returning to school during COVID-19 may take some getting used to. Making sure that students have the proper resources, practicing social distancing, and having a safety plan can help protect students, staff, teachers, and families.

https://dralfonsojhenriquez.com/children-returning-to-school-during-covid-19/

[effect-of-games]

Gamification, ABA, & Autism

          There are many different interventions and therapies that have come about over the years to try and teach individuals with Autism and other intellectual disabilities. Some of these include occupational therapy, speech therapy, applied behavior analysis therapy, and social skills classes to name a few. Each of these therapies comes with their own advantages and disadvantages, but in my opinion ABA treatments can provide the more effective options for these individuals.

          Applied Behavioral Analysis Therapy (ABA) came about in the 1970s by Ivar Lovaas and Robert Koegel at UCLA. Instead of teaching a preset set of rules and behaviors, ABA focuses on observing the behaviors of the individual and learning why the behavior occurs. From there, therapists are able to formulate a treatment plan and a course of action for how to correct problem behaviors and enforce adaptive behaviors. This course of treatment is an evidence-based treatment that has passed scientific tests proving usefulness, quality, and effectiveness, and is supported by the US Surgeon General and the American Psychological Association. ABA has the potential to help individuals (not just those with Autism) to increase their language skills, improve attention and other cognitive skills, and help them improve academically.

          Some methods used in ABA therapies include reinforcement and punishment, prompting and fading through visual and verbal cues, task analysis and generalization. There are positive and negative reinforcements and punishments. Positive reinforcement means rewarding the individual for good behavior while negative reinforcement means taking away something the individual does not like as a reward. On the other hand, positive punishment is giving the child something they do not like for problem behavior occurring (like extra homework for the being disruptive) while negative punishment is taking away something good. These are all used in an attempt to encourage the individual to do the problem behavior less and the appropriate behavior more. Verbal and visual cues are often used to show the individual what they should be doing. The goal of ABA treatment is to be able to fade these prompts and eventually not have to use them.

          Task analysis is a huge part of ABA because it involves directly and indirectly supervising behaviors and how the individual goes about solving a task. Examples of directly supervising are simulations, behavioral observations, performance appraisal, administering exams, and updating portfolios. Examples of indirectly supervising are reviewing exit and other interviews done in the past by other administers, archival data, focus groups, and surveys/questionnaires. Another goal of ABA is to make treatments generalized. This means that whatever you are teaching the individual should be able to be replicated in other settings. For example, if an individual learns that they need to use the restroom at school when they have to urinate, they should be able to learn that they need to use the restroom at home when they have to urinate.[1]

          ABA treatments use ABC descriptive assessments to determine the function of the behavior. An easy way to remember the functions of behavior is the acronym SEAT. SEAT stands for sensory, escape, attention, and tangible. Through the ABC method of analyzing the antecedent (what happens before the behavior), the behavior itself, and the consequences that occur when the behavior occurs, therapists can recognize patterns in behaviors and figure out why the individual is doing them.

          In order to practice and administer ABA treatments, you need to have certain qualifications depending on the job you are going for. ABA therapists work one-on-one with individuals and have a variety of backgrounds depending on the employer and job. Board Certified Behavior Analyst (BCBA) are trained to provide and supervise ABA services. They oversee BCaBAs and need a master level degree. There are also BCBA-D which are those who have a doctorate in the field. They do the same jobs, the only difference is the level of degree. Then there are Certified Autism Specialists (CAS) who need a master level degree and work strictly with autistic individuals. Lastly, there are Autism Certificate (AC) holders which are people who work in the field of Autism and do not require a degree. These positions tend to overlap, such as CAS also being ABA therapists.[2]

          The topic of ABA treatments is controversial, especially for parents of children with autism. ABA is often seen as being “cruel” and relating back to Lovaas’ original goal of making individuals with Autism “normal”. It has also been coined as being “abusive”, “unethical”, and “wrong”. Many people see the intensive nature of these early interventions as being excruciatingly hard on individuals and caretakers because of the time needing to be invested and the emotional toll it can take. Parents and caretakers have also noted that when going through ABA treatments, they are told that ABA is their child’s only option at succeeding and growing. It has also been stated that ABA may be as popular as it is because it is funded by insurance, whereas other treatments are not. These two factors combined make the parents feel helpless and trapped. They feel as though they cannot try other interventions because they may not be effective or may be too expensive. The last concern that is prevalent in the discussion of ABA is that it focuses too much on repetition. There have been parents who have noticed that their children are able to do step one of a problem but do not understand what they are doing in order to go to step two. An example of this is a child asking a stranger what their name is, but not staying to hear the response. The child knows to ask what the person’s name is but does not know that they should receive a response to it.[3]

          Ivar Lovaas has been coined as the pioneer for ABA and is quoted saying, “If they can’t learn the way we teach, we teach the way they learn.” As soon as I saw this quote, I immediate thought of game-based and interactive learning. Gamification is the application of elements of game play, such as point systems, competition, and rules, into other areas of activity including learning. This type of teaching changes learning from “this is what will happen” to “this is what did happen” and allows the individuals see the effect of their actions for themselves on a shorter time frame. The sequence of events shown through games also shows individuals cause and effects. This incentivized learning is key to ABA because the points and rewards act as reinforcers. They keep the individual wanting to learn and move to the next assignment, while reinforcing good behaviors.

          These games do not necessarily mean video games, but any type of game or interactive teaching that allows for hands on play and learning. Some examples of board games teaching skills are Hungry Caterpillars teaching math, and Life teaching individuals that while money can’t buy happiness, saving and spending money wisely can impact your happiness or “life points”. Games also affect the individual’s agency. Agency is defined as the drive and desire to succeed and the feeling that you control your future. In traditional classrooms, this can be as simple as giving the individuals the option of what they would like to write a paper or do a presentation on. For individuals in ABA treatment, this can be in the form of giving individuals the option of what reward or activity they would like.[4][5] This is important for people with Autism because stimming and outbursts tend to happen when the person feels as though they are losing control of the situation.

          Games tend to promote positive feedback loops rather than negative ones. By allowing users to try repeatedly until they get the correct response, the individual is less likely to give up than if they automatically failed by getting something wrong. A positive feedback look like this changes the overarching learning question from “Do you know the answer?” to “Can you find the answer?” and supports different learning styles. Feedback loops are something that teachers struggle with as the number of teachers/therapists to students/individuals increases as we get older. According to the UFT, high school classrooms can be occupied by as many as 34 students. This number potentially skyrockets to over 200 as students get to collegiate levels.[6] More students means less one-to-one learning and the teacher being less likely to know if students are falling behind. Game-based learning works well for this because it allows teachers to easily target where each student is lacking and alter course material appropriately. ABA therapy would benefit from this because it would allow for more remote learning without the presence of a therapist (if need be). This helps especially with more intensive programs because parents and caregivers would be able to continue therapies from home. A major part of ABA is graphing and data collection which could be facilitated using these games and softwares. The data that is collected through scores and time elapsed, along with observed behaviors during sessions can be used to track progress.

          Lastly, games help to teach 21st century skills in ways that cannot be done in classrooms – they must be experienced. Some of these skills include communication, creativity, collaboration, and critical thinking. A problem that is faced when teaching individuals (not just with developmental disabilities) is the idea of transference or transfer of practice. This is the ability to apply what you learn in one capacity to another. A goal of ABA is to create treatment plans that are generalized, or can be related to other instances. This is exhibited through tutorial levels of games, such as Animal Crossing, where they show you the basics before having you apply them to the actual game.[7]

          One app currently being used for individuals with Autism is called “Look at Me” by Samsung. This app has a set of games geared towards teaching those with Autism certain skills. One game helps to teach children to distinguish emotions, such as between happy and sad, and rewards them with points. Another game teaches them to recognize facial features by covering eyes with dots and asking which face appears in the dot.[8]

          Another game being used with autistic individuals is Minecraft (Education Edition). A private community has been made that is called Autcraft that is specifically made for those with Autism and comes with well-defined rules, as compared to the more open concept of the regular Minecraft. This game teaches individuals creativity and collaboration as users must work together to complete complex designs. These complex designs teach the users planning and critical thinking skills, and the collaboration with others forces users to interact and learn social skills.[9]

          While I advocate for ABA and gamification there are definitely downsides to each, some of which I have outlined here. Overall, though, it comes down to each individual whether or not the method will work. That is why treatment takes time and planning along with trial and error to find out what is effective and what is not. ABA is a strong, evidence-based treatment that allows for individualization and goal setting. It reinforces good behavior while attempting to diminish bad behavior, and I believe it works hand in hand with gamification and game-based learning styles.

References:

[1]5 Techniques Used in Applied Behavior Analysis. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://www.appliedbehavioranalysisprograms.com/lists/5-techniques-used-in-applied-behavior-analysis/

[2] ABA, BCBA, and CAS: What does it all mean? (2019, March 22). Retrieved from https://ibcces.org/blog/2014/08/04/aba-bcba-and-cas-what-does-it-all-mean/

[3] The controversy over autism's most common therapy: Spectrum: Autism Research News. (2016, August 15). Retrieved from https://www.spectrumnews.org/features/deep-dive/controversy-autisms-common-therapy/

[4] Student Agency - What is Student Agency? - EdWords. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://www.renaissance.com/edwords/student-agency/

[5] Credits, Extra. “Education: Agency - How Games Empower Us - Extra Credits.” YouTube, YouTube, 21 May 2014, www.youtube.com/watch?v=T39kYzzv_3Q&index=15&list=PLhyKYa0YJ_5DGAb6xGJfd9v4gXCDjmeli.

[6] What are the class size limits for my grade? (n.d.). Retrieved from http://www.uft.org/faqs/what-are-class-size-limits-my-grade

[7] Pittser, B. (2019, March 7). How Game-Based Learning Develops 21st Century Skills. Retrieved from http://www.filamentgames.com/blog/how-game-based-learning-develops-21st-century-skills.

[8] Mak, H. W. (2015, August 10). Look At Me Takes on Autism Through Games-Based Learning. Retrieved from https://www.gamification.co/2015/08/10/look-at-me-takes-on-autism-through-games-based-learning/

[9] Arnold, S. (2019, February 25). Change the Game: Using Minecraft to Teach Students with Autism - EdSurge News. Retrieved from https://www.edsurge.com/news/2019-01-28-change-the-game-using-minecraft-to-teach-students-with-autism

[monkeyalia]

Help Your Kids

Alia Rhoton

English 2010

Kade Parry

6 December 2017

Help Your Kids

Who are you? Are you a man? a woman? What category do you fall into? Where do you fit in? What is your role in the world? Where should you go if you do not fit into any category? Everyone has these questions. Specifically, children are figuring out who they are and what they stand for; some people have a harder time than others answering these questions. People, especially parents and teachers, need to be accepting of whomever the kids choose to become. One issue where people are not accepting their child is when their child is considering to go transgender or is behaving as the opposing gender. Parents and teachers need to know how to help and work with children who are considering going transgender. Currently, parents and teachers are not letting their child go transgender and are trying to “fix” them. This is why 42% of people who are transgender attempt suicide (Haas, Rogers, Herman 2) because they feel like they are a problem and do not fit in anywhere. Parents and teachers need to know how to help these children who are feeling out of place. To help the children figure themselves out, they should go into client-centered therapy which would help them figure out who they are and where they are going. If children finish this program in over a year, they should be allowed to change their gender if they do not want to be a feminine male or a masculine female. Parents and teachers can help their children and teenagers who are considering to go transgender.

Every individual has a stage in life where they are figuring themselves out. They figure out what their role is in this world. What is their reason for existing? Children need to learn and understand that the best they can do is to be themselves. Teachers and parents need to help them figure out who they are. This will help them figure out their self-worth. One way to show how important and unique each individual person is may be shown in how everyone has their own DNA which had a 1 in a million chance to be created by that specific sperm and egg. These distinct sets of amino acids help create everyone’s individual characteristics. Each individual person each has their own purpose in this world; they have their role which they are to go and create: “God had a purpose for you before anyone had an opinion” (unknown). This shows how other people’s opinion does not really matter, you were you before they had an opinion of you. Some people have a small role while others have a huge role. This is okay. The main character in a play would have no place if there was no stage crew and ensemble. The best way someone can fulfill their role is if they are themselves with their own dreams and goals: “Believe in yourself and all that you are. Know that there is something inside you that is greater than any obstacle” (Unknown). Someone just has to believe that they can become whomever they would like to be, whether it is an engineer, artist, doctor, nurse, driver, chief, et cetera. Teenagers are the only person who knows who they are, no one else knows exactly who they are and what is best. Teenagers are figuring themselves out: they do not know exactly who they are, parents think they know who they are, but that is wrong. Teens know who they are better than anyone else. People have to figure themselves out and who they are going to become. “Don’t you give up. Don’t you quite. You keep walking. You keep trying. Help and happiness are ahead. It will be alright in the end. Trust and believe in good things to come” (Jeffrey R. Holland).

Some people try to force the child to be who they want the child to be; some people may think that this is not them and try to change the person (Straus 213-225). People may try to make the person be outgoing, into sports, into cooking, clean, nerdy, et cetera. This will actually be counterintuitive. It will make the child more afraid to go out and meet people, lazier and wanting to stay inside, more dependent on fast foods, making a mess, because it makes the child feel like they have control. The child will then feel like they have to go completely against everything people are telling them to do because they need to prove to others and themselves that they control their lives and independent (Straus 213-225). They are proving that they have the power of choice. Parents and teachers need to allow the youth to be themselves and encourage them to be themselves: give the youth the choice about what they will do. Youth are most likely to follow their leaders and become similar to their leaders. People do not always follow their leaders though; sometimes the youth learn that they want to become their own of role model. This is okay. Everyone needs to be allowed to be themselves, whether that is shy, outgoing, daring, artistic, logical, et cetera. Girls and boys need to be given the similar opportunities to express themselves: going shooting, sewing, drawing, carving, camping, et cetera. It is best for someone to be themselves, whether it is a female who is into math, science, sports, and against shaving, or a boy who is into skirts, makeup, art, long hair, and heels. The world is full of stereotypes about who someone is supposed to be, but this is wrong; each person needs to be themselves and be whomever they want to be. If we do try to change the person we say they are, this harms them more than helps them. The world has the bias of who someone is supposed to be, but this is not the best. People need to allow themselves.

One big problem in this world is how there are bias and gender stereotypes; this is what causes gender dysphoria (not transgender). The world says there are specific rules and ways each gender is supposed to live. This causes problems because it does not let the individual person be themselves. There are girls who are a tomboy who enjoys sports and competition, and there are boys who enjoy arts and crafts while they wear skirts and dance. One common stereotype is that boys are better at math than girls. When tested though, girls are around the same (if not a bit better) in math. But people put into their head so much that girls are not good at math that if they are asked to put their gender before a test, they will do lower than they would have if they had not asked to put their gender (Arnett). This represents one of the stereotypes that are all around us. Another stereotype is that boys like sports and girls do not (Kidd, Veltman, Gately, Chan & J Cohen 13-39). When in the beginning of elementary school, an equal number of girls and boys participate in physical activities. Slowly, boys begin to brag about how good they are and beat down that someone who has a hard time doing physical activities. If the person they are beating down is still a boy, this boy then wonders if they are supposed to be a boy since it seems like all the boys around them are good at sports and like sports but he does not enjoy doing sports. This is what begins gender dysphoria. People commonly notice these big stereotypes, but they do not always notice the smaller stereotypes which say that boys are engineers and girls are psychologists. These stereotypes will lead later on into their life because they feel like they cannot go down a certain road because it is not “their type” (Kidd et al. 13-39; National Center for Transgender Equality).

Stereotypes are surrounding everyone in the world today. Tomi Lahren and Jennings once showed how there were gender stereotypes. Tomi said that if a boy wears a dress, he is a “pervert”. This shows how Tomi Lahren, even though she is an adult, she still has the gender stereotype. “Stress hormones in health and illness: The roles of work and gender” helps show how women are more commonly allowed to behave masculine while men are put down if they behave feminine (Stress Hormones in Health and Illness 1017-1021). The world is now accepting more girls who are tomboy which improves girls’ situations but boys still have a hard time. “Attitudes and Expectations About Children with Nontraditional and Traditional Gender Roles” talks about how males are looked down upon when they behaved feminine or “sissies” (151). Another problem is when a boy behaves more feminine, the world assumes that they are homosexual. A feminine boy does not mean they are gay, just like how tomboys can be straight or lesbian. “Socialization to Gender Roles: Popularity among Elementary School Boys and Girls” discusses how the world says girls have to behave certain ways and boys have to behave their certain way: “A cross-over among boys into feminine’ areas are less acceptable… and still negatively sanctioned” (169-187). They say that “boys who demonstrated ‘effeminate’ behavior were referred to by pejorative terms, such as ‘fag,’ ‘sissy,’ and ‘homo’ and consequently lost status” (Adler, Kless, Adler 169-187). People need to be aware of the bias that surrounds them because it slowly leaks into their subconscious; they then are subconsciously letting off a bias. Allow people to be themselves. Schools need to get rid of the bias and claims that are going all over. People need to be themselves.

The first steps schools can make to get rid of these stereotypes, bias, and claims, they should have programs and activities which include things which are considered feminine and masculine and giving girls and boys equal amount of opportunities to participate. When these programs start, they should separate the boys and girls to do each project. This way they do not feel as judged and are comparing less. The next step is to make it a competition between groups where they see how each gender can do just as well in science or art as the other gender can. After this, they should combine gender groups and have them work to complete a certain number of tasks which are feminine and masculine. Another way is to mix up the children’s seating arrangement to make sure there are equal numbers of children of each gender on both sides to help force the teachers to look at both sides of the rooms. Teachers should then make sure they reward just as many girls and boys for science and art. This helps get rid of the mental factors of how each gender feels they have to behave. Another part is to make sure there are not posters which represent a gender theme. If there are posters, make sure there are posters which have feminine males and masculine females; also make sure the females do not look like sex objects and males look like they are only known for their physical strength. Another thing is to make sure both boys and girls can try out and get into clubs. It is okay if there are more of a certain gender because not everyone is interested in certain topics but schools need to make sure there are people of both genders within the group. These are some steps schools can help get rid of the bias, claims, and stereotypes that people have for each gender.

Therapy can help some people who are having a hard time figuring out who they are: it can help emotionally stabilize them and feel self-worth. Client-centered therapy helps the person figure out who they are (Rogers 1). Teenagers are trying to figure themselves out. One part of figuring out themselves is their gender and where they fit in the gender stereotypes. When someone goes into client-center therapy, they figure out who they are and how they do not need to worry about the stereotypes. People can be themselves, even if it is a boy wearing a skirt or a girl playing football. Client-centered therapy is a form of counseling where the client gets to talk to the therapist about their life, their day, how they feel, and who they want to become. The therapist repeats what the client says in different words (cognitive behavioral therapy) and helps the client think over events and emotions: this helps the client hear from someone else repeat their own issue and see in third person which helps them know how they need to help themselves (Rothbaum, Meadows, Resick, & Foy). Therapy helps people figure out who they are and what they stand for. People then can to process what is going on through their life and making them feel dysphoric. It teaches people how to go through their challenges and how they do not need to worry about what others think. Clients get a boost in self-confidence. Every teen needs help to figure out who they are; we need to allow them to be themselves.

This form of therapy will especially help children who are considering going transgender. They will go through their own lives and figure out what may have caused them to feel gender dysphoric. The counselor may help them process why they feel this way. The children will know how to work with it along with learning about themselves. Teenagers are trying to figure out themselves: who they are and what they stand for (values). This will help the youth know themselves, know how to work with their body, know their sexual orientation, know how it is okay to be themselves, and make decisions for the future.

Schools should have counselors for the children. This will allow the children to have a resource to go talk to which will help the children who are struggling with their lives, their body, their school, and their friends. It would allow the child to feel like they have a resource which they can go get help when they cannot go to their parents. Some parents are not open to their children’s problems and opinions which forces the children to be locked up inside of themselves. They can also provide info for which they feel uncomfortable asking parents about (ex: sex, drugs, slang, et cetera). This meeting with the counselor should be private. The parents are not notified without the permission of the child. It is the child’s right to be confidential; otherwise, they might not seek out for help and answers. This also might help the child get the courage to open up to their parents and go talk to them because they now understand why the parents are uncomfortable talking about different topics or why the child feels uncomfortable talking. This also helps if there is a problem inside an abusive home. Counsellors can help the children process what is going on. The counselors could report abuse to the police to make sure the child is in the best condition. This will help the children understand information more and see how they are not stranded.

Scientific American says therapy is not good, along with Human Rights Campaign and National Center for Transgender Equality. This is correct if someone is trying to “fix” the person and make them stay their born gender. They are referring to therapy that tries to force the person into a certain gender. If therapy is given to force a person into a certain gender, this will harm them. They feel like they cannot be themselves, and they are a problem. But if they are given client-centered therapy, it will direct them to one gender or another, but it will help them figure themselves out and know who they are and help them feel self-worth. This is why client-center therapy is needed because it does not direct the person to one gender or another. It is given to help them feel more confident about themselves: who they are, what they stand for, and what is valuable to them. After the children attend therapy for over a year, they will know more of who they are and what they stand for, which will allow them to make a good judgment on whether or not they want to change their gender. Some people may still want to go transgender while other people may not because they figure out that they can still be themselves in their sex they were born into. If they still would like to change their gender, they should be allowed to change their gender to get into that stereotype and be accepted with their new gender as they feel they are who they were meant to be.

One thing that is commonly debated is what causes someone to want to be transgender. Some people may want to go transgender because of the gender stereotypes. Their parents are buying them dresses and getting them into sports, whether they want to or not. This is why therapy would be good. Therapy would help them feel more like themselves. Some people want to go transgender because of experiences in their life, an example would be abuse. If we help the children who are abused, this will help get rid of their dysphoria. People who are abused may have more problems than just their gender dysphoria (abuse, drugs, discrimination, et cetera). They might feel like they do not like themselves and refuse to accept who they are and what happened; they feel gender dysphoria and want to get rid of the confusion. People need to support their decisions and allow them to be themselves because they are figuring themselves out. If you reject them, they will feel like they are a no one and they do not fit anywhere. This can possibly leave to suicide (Haas, Rodgers, Herman); transgender people have the highest rate of suicide with 42%. Maybe the way they were raised caused them to feel gender dysphoria. Some studies show that people who grow up without a father are more likely to have gender dysphoria (Arnett). This suggests that not all people are born transgender but are raised and become transgender. Not everyone who is transgender though has a problem with their father, so this is just a theory. But some people just have felt like they were in the wrong body since birth (National Center for Transgender Equality). It is not bad or wrong to feel this way. People who choose to go transgender are trying to express who they are; they are expressing how they feel.

Dr. Money showed how someone cannot be forced into a certain gender. Dr. Money worked with a John/Joan case. David was Dr. Money’s patient and was born with a medical problem with his penis. His penis had to be removed. Dr. Money than got the parents to raise David as if he was a girl. They gave him medications to alter his puberty. When David was 14, he threatened suicide if they did not let him go back into being a boy (Beh, Glen, Diamond). This shows how it is gender is not completely based off of the way they are raised; it is who they are. It can be based on their personality (American Psychological Association). Some people felt in the wrong body since birth. Going transgender is not a medical condition, but a process of someone choosing to express themselves (American Psychological Association).

There is the debate about whether someone who is gender dysphoric can be forced to become confident in their born gender. American Journal of Psychiatric Rehabilitation claims that ECT (electroconvulsive therapy) can help the person not become transgender (Kidd, Veltman, Gately, Chan, Cohen 13-39). ECT helps people feel more comfortable and confident in themselves and who they are; ECT is occasionally used to help depression. The problem with ECT is that it may cause memory problems. Some people lose so much of their memory that they cannot function, some people may not have a bad memory, but the risk too high to try to put someone who is gender dysphoric through this form of therapy. People who are gender dysphoric should not be forced to undergo any therapy. This would make them feel like they are a burden and a problem which needs to be fixed. It is not a problem for them to be themselves and change their gender. It does not affect other people very much. It helps them feel confident with themselves and be open. They feel like they can be themselves.

Parents need to let the child be themselves and make their own decisions. The biggest thing parents need to do is listen to their child. This will help parents understand the child which will let parents help the child. The best type of parenting is when the parents allow the child to make the rules of the house. This will then give the child the responsibility to follow the rules which they agreed to follow. They will be willing to follow through. Parents need to allow the child to be themselves, even if that is to behave like the opposite gender: carry knives or dress up. Parents usually want to control everything and direct what goes on in the house. They feel that this gives structures and rules. They think it will prevent chaos when it is counterintuitive. This makes the children want to rebel and push away. They feel that in order to be themselves they have to go directly against what parents and teachers say. The child then feels responsible to go directly against what the parent sets up. Families that are more strict, will not listen or adjust rules, are known to have the most rebuttal family (Arnett). Teens want to show that they are independent and that the parent cannot control them. When they are given the choice to be independent, this allows them to feel like they are in control. Allow children to make the rules. They then will understand why the rules exist and how it will help them.

People of all ages should be allowed to make their own decisions, even if that is going transgender, but this is after they go through therapy of figuring themselves out with their self-worth. Helping people know who they are and what they stand for, will help people feel confident which will help inspire people to be great. Teachers need to accept children who are – especially those who are behaving a certain gender – and they need to attempt to teach each child the same, no matter their gender. Accept everyone for who they are; allow them to be themselves. Let’s make the world a better place. How are you going to help make the world a better place, today?

Works Cited

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