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#school aged child and would be so spent and that kid would go to kindergarten and i’d have a few hours to relax just a bit

sophieinwonderland · 1 month

Note

You have previously said your host used to live under a rock. Well, realistically speaking, only Patrick can do that, so... What did your host do when he was "living under a rock"? (no need to answer if it's private)

Ghost:

Soph was probably talking about my childhood.

I was never a social child. I only went to public school up to, I think, 1st grade.

Now, this was in the deep South where schools are allowed to paddle children and regularly exercise their right to do so. But in theory, parents can sign notes to prevent that. Which my mom did when I was in kindergarten.

Then later that year, I got spanked by the PE teacher for not following instructions. My mom chewed the school out, and they tried to justify it by saying PE was basically its own little school. Something which sounded like bullshit when I heard it as a 6-year-old, and sounds even more like bullshit now that I'm an adult.

Then later that same year, the principal spanked me for allegedly stripping down to my underwear. Something which did not happen. What did happen was that I had a button-up shirt, was a bored six-year-old, and started unbuttoning and rebuttoning it because I was bored. That was it.

I'm pretty sure the bitch just made up an excuse to beat a child because she was pissed at being told she couldn't.

Then they tried holding me back a grade due to behavioral issues. Basically, for being autistic. And probably, I think, because the principal held a grudge about being chewed out multiple times for beating a child who she wasn't allowed to beat.

1st grade, I was moved to a different school, but had no friends and didn't get along with other kids. And mostly wanted to be left alone.

I was never actually going to stab my classmates in the eyes with a pencil if they didn't give me space. That would be wrong and I wasn't the type to hurt other people. But having grown, I can't blame the school for treating my threats as serious.

It was decided that school wasn't a good fit for me after that.

I did go back to school for about half a year in middle school but didn't connect with anyone there, and was taken out again.

That's what she means about me living under a rock.

I lived most of my youth homeschooled. I didn't have many friends my own age. I didn't join clubs. I didn't go to parties. I missed out on a lot of the connection to my generation's culture.

So sometimes Soph gets sent references to memes and stuff that I would probably know if I had a normal childhood in a normal school setting. But I never had that. I don’t know what videos people in my generation were watching back then, or what music they were listening to, or what slang they used. I spent my youth an outsider in a self-imposed exile.

#ghost post

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prolifeproliberty · 2 years

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Reminder that the U.S. public education system was intentionally built to produce compliant factory workers, not to educate citizens.

There is no “reforming” the system without completely rebuilding it from the ground up.

The Founding Fathers wanted publicly available education so that the citizenry would be educated, literate, and critical thinkers. This is not what we gave today.

Children are shuffled through an assembly line in batches based on age, not ability or achievement. They are taught to respond to bells telling them when to start, when to stop, when to take a break, when to eat, and when to go home.

Fixing this system would mean reimagining it. There’s no way of doing that on a large scale, and even local examples of schools trying “innovative” things seem to still be fresh paint on a house with a rotten foundation.

To start with, children should be moving at their own pace in each subject. A 10-year-old child could be further ahead in math and further behind in reading, and that’s okay. They would work with students of their same ability level for each subject.

If a child is spending too long at one level of one subject, they may need more one-on-one support from a teacher who specializes in that area. They definitely should not be just passed through for the sake of graduating “on time.”

You might say “aren’t schools already doing this?” Not really. You might see schools with accelerated or remedial math classes, maybe even reading. But those are half-measures, and kids are still pushed forward without being ready - because they “need to graduate.” Not to mention the kids that are held back because “we don’t have a program past x level.”

The trouble begins in Kindergarten. Kids are expected to meet certain standards before moving on - a level of proficiency with letters, numbers, and some basic reading skills. Kids who are “a little behind” are pushed forward - after all, kids learn at their own pace, right?

Then in first grade, the kid who was “a little behind” is not ready for the first lessons, and gets frustrated and confused. Imagine trying to learn addition when you don’t really know your numbers. So now the kid who was a little behind is now quite a bit behind, but likely not far enough to ring alarm bells for intervention.

Now in second grade that same kid is a whole grade level behind - but that’s within tolerance levels for our current system. Maybe there will be an intervention teacher popping in a couple times a week - which helps when she’s there, and doesn’t help when she’s not. She would come every day, but she’s busy with the 4th graders preparing them for the state test.

Then in third grade - because the kid has to move on with his peers to avoid “social problems” - he is now 1.5-2 years behind his classmates. Now the teacher is concerned - remember, it’s new teacher every year who spends the first couple months getting to know the kids and getting beginning of the year data on their academic levels. The teacher is told to provide intervention or accommodation for some period - in my experience, 6-8 weeks - before any further steps can be taken. The teacher also has 10 other students with needs in different areas, and the chances of her keeping up with 6-8 weeks of intervention for one kid, taking usable data, and keeping track of that data - is low.

So the kid goes on to 4th grade. Now we have standardized testing (this of course varies by state - my state actually begins this in 3rd grade). The beginning of the year assessment scores are alarming - NOW the kid gets intervention. Maybe testing. He’s diagnosed with a learning disability. Maybe he has dyslexia, maybe it’s an “unspecified” learning disability - and now he should get services.

But now he’s 2-3 years behind. And worse, he has given up. He spent the last 3-4 years knowing he was “behind” - he feels dumb. His peers are smarter then him, he thinks. No matter how hard he works, they’re ahead - some of them seemingly without even trying. School is easy for them. So the interventionist pulls him out of class 3 times a week to work on things his classmates learned 2 years ago. He does what’s required - maybe his intervention teacher offers incentives like stickers or tickets for prizes. But he has no desire to work on this beyond what he has to do. His classmates ask why he keeps getting pulled out.

All of this comes from a failure to address the small delay in Kindergarten, and from the lack of a system to address his individual needs and support his teachers who are overwhelmed by other similar stories.

What you end up with is kids getting to my history class in 7th grade, reading at a 2nd or 3rd grade level. Worse, you get kids graduating from high school reading below an 8th grade level - but they get pushed through anyway.

A better system would look something like this:

Before starting school, kids would take a pre-test to determine where they are in reading and math already - some kids come to kindergarten already knowing how to read basic words, others are still learning their alphabet.

Kids would be placed in groups or classes based on their current ability for each subject. They would move ahead to the next level only when they had passed their current level - not when the “school year” ends.

Kids would graduate when they were ready - maybe “early,” maybe “late,” but always with the actual knowledge and skills they’re supposed to have.

Here’s the challenge: this method is harder. It’s hard to manage on a large scale. It’s more complex.

You know where it works?

In a small community school or homeschool.

We keep wanting to “fix” our bloated, massive, national public school system. Even on a state level, no agency can really manage the education of millions of students.

Even thousands of students is too many for one single system.

The ideal situation would be neighborhood schools, a couple hundred students max, each operating in the way that makes sense for their students and the families they serve. Funded and supported by the families that send their kids there - and decisions made by that community.

Guess what - you don’t have to wait for this to magically happen on its own. You also don’t have to “vote the right people into office.”

Creating this system starts with families, and it’s already happening - they might be called micro schools or homeschool co-ops, but they’re popping up all over, more so now in response to how public schools mismanaged the COVID situation.

Some parents are homeschooling entirely. Others are doing most learning at home, and signing kids up for “a la carte” classes in certain subjects. Others have their kids entirely in a micro school, “learning pod”, or other private school that meets their needs.

As far as voting goes, is there a policy that would help?

Yes. It’s called School Choice. Tax credits that allow parents to spend their kids’ education dollars where they make sense.

Bottom line: get your kids out of public school, and take a good long look at what your individual child needs. Then find the school, co-op, or homeschool curriculum that meets those needs. It might be your kid’s own personal blend of available options. It won’t be the same for your neighbor’s kid, or even for your other children.

Your job as parent is to make those decisions for your children. Stop giving your parental authority to the state.

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cerosin-bis · 1 year

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Do you have any head-cannon about nikto (or/and kureger ™) childhood by any chance? Its ok if u dont

Love your fics btw great story

Not bad for a witch brewing her potion in woods tho(jk) nonetheless keep going! We will be here! <3

I DOOO omg I do!!!... thank you for letting me talk more about these two... I expanded to "youth" rather than just childhood because I didn't have much, I hope that's okay 👉👈 And thank you SO much for your comment about my fics, and for encouraging me!! 💙

→ Nikto's youth (cw: underage drinking)

Raised in a christian orthodox household. Not particularly strict, but very very pious all around, him included. And yes, he was a choir kid.

Complicated family situation & grew up poor: started stealing at a young age and indulged in some terrible coping mechanisms such as being a heavy drinker as an early teen up to early adulthood. @modernghostfare expanded a bit on that and I can see it too

He both wanted to do well (for his family) and generally be a good person... and naturally just was a very difficult child and teenager: temperamental, impatient, angry, and naturally inclined to do illegal and violent stuff. His lifestyle VS his religious beliefs and genuine care for his family worsened the two extremes with which he approached life (destruction/redemption)

It's the army that sort of... fixed him, gave him discipline, a salary and a purpose, up until the Zakhaev incident. Then, well. you know.

→ Krueger's youth (cw: drugs)

Often in trouble from kindergarten up to secondary school because incredibly smart = he was too good, too fast, got bored in class and despite not causing trouble/chatting he was always talking back to teachers and choosing to behave in ways that would make them slowly go insane because he was otherwise on all accounts a perfect school kid.

Talked a bit about it in my hcs for him but as a teen Krueger spent more time outside than inside his house. He was absolutely a freeloader and always slept at other people's

From his early teens to mid-twenties, never kept a group of friends more than 5-6 months (if you know someone like this it's a gigantic red flag btw). His whole life has always been no strings attached

Was not sober a minute of his life between ages ~18-22. Had tried almost all "common" drugs including hard ones by 19. lowered his consumption afterwards because he did not want to hinder his mental sharpness by being addicted to anything other than specifically Camel filters cigs 👍

#ask #headcanons #krueger #nikto #call of duty

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acorrespondence · 7 months

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By chapter, so we'll start with Miami Part 1:

Raylan watches him as he comes, and it quickens Boyd’s blood to hold his gaze. It sometimes feels as though everything Boyd’s ever done was somehow rooted in the effort to get those eyes on him. Every time he kicked the back of Raylan’s chair in the first grade, or stood up to read aloud in sophomore English class; the first time he put his hands down Raylan’s pants, and the three months he spent talking Raylan into the second child Boyd had been seeing for a year in the wink of Raylan’s eye. His entire life fishing with dynamite, trying to get Raylan’s attention, a reaction, twisting himself into the catalyst for some spark behind Raylan’s eyes—anger or interest or the quick, fierce joy that sometimes lights his face for a fleeting moment, before he can think to tamp it down.

Boyd rolls off of Raylan when he starts to go restless underneath him, and Raylan turns promptly belly-down to bury his face. “‘M sorry,” Raylan mumbles into his pillow.

Boyd sighs and rubs Raylan’s back, like he does for the kids when they’re sick or sad—the way his mama used to do for him, her hands hard from the washing and soft with love. “We’ll be all right, Raylan,” he murmurs. Raylan doesn’t buck him off the way he might normally do, doesn’t snap at him or launch up in a huff, leaving Boyd alone in the bed. He only lets Boyd do this when they’ve just had sex, so he can blame the oxytocin and still pretend that excuse holds water. But he accepts Boyd’s gentling hands right now, and it’s enough to be getting on with.

Thank you so much for sending this! I’m really excited to get to the rest of your asks :) My pretty consistent headcanon for these guys is that they really weren’t all that close in high school. For this au, I went with the idea that they were friends in first grade, possibly also kindergarten and part of the second grade, but then their daddies had a falling out and they drew pretty abruptly apart as a result. I think it also probably had to do with Raylan getting into baseball—second grade is around the age when kids move from t-ball to Little League, and so Raylan would have been getting more serious about it—and Raylan becaming aware of the fact that he’s always been sort of infatuated with Boyd, which scares him. But I think throughout this time, Boyd still craved his attention, and it became almost a challenge for him to get it when Raylan was clearly trying so hard not to be drawn back into his orbit. Once they’re down in the mines, Raylan is too scared to use much energy keeping his distance from Boyd and so stops resisting his pull and they come back together. Boyd thrives off of attention, and he prizes Raylan’s attention above most if not all. He also loves a challenge, and Raylan spends so much time tamping down on his emotions that Boyd feels triumphant when he inspires emotions too strong to be repressed; he also likes to feel special, and loves being the one to get Raylan to actually express emotions besides those on the pissed-off side of the scale.

It’s very, very hard for Raylan to apologize because it means admitting fault, and being at fault was a very dangerous thing, in Arlo Givens’ house. He logically knows Boyd isn’t going to react that way but is afraid he will, and so he has a hard time not resenting Boyd for his gentleness, since he gets mad at himself for feeling relief because of it. He hates the proof that his own fear is not—well—justified. Meanwhile, Boyd remembers being comforted by his mother’s gentleness, so he offers it up anyway, to his kids and Raylan: at least as much as Raylan will let him. And Raylan does appreciate the gentleness, even if he doesn’t like what that says about him and so ends up trying to duck it most of the time. But Raylan letting Boyd comfort him, even if taking comfort is—ironically—uncomfortable for him, is itself a show of love. He has the tacit excuse of the touch being more about sex and closeness than comfort, which makes it easier. And so they both ultimately get what they need from this interaction, which is an illustration of why they work together, I think.

I’m also really proud of the last sentence of the first paragraph, it came together exactly as I wanted it to.

#ask game #heavy heart #justified #raylan/boyd #my fic #justie2justie communication #willow universewoman star-shine #writing #i feel like this doesn’t really cover that first paragraph but it’s all i could get into words #thanks so much for the asks justie!#long post #justie author commentary

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cator99 · 1 year

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Things that, as a child, I never understood why adults seemed to opt into: cars, motherhood, heterosexuality. Its all intertwined of course but back then my line of questioning boiled down to wondering to anyone who would listen: Is all that really necessary? Sounds awfully unappealing expensive potentially dangerous inconvenient I'm busy leave me alone I want to have more money. Nobody seemed to have any satisfying answers as to why I was expected to patricipate in such lifestyle choices beyond social expectations and peer pressure. I learned the term "alternative lifestyle" at age 7 and never let that one go. Of course, it was used in a derogatory context towards me (later I would realize it was in fact a euphemistic way of calling me a Dyke child), but I didn't see the issue, of course I was interested in what alternatives were available- everything I'd been presented with thus far was absolute dog shit. And so whenever adults questioned me I would say "I live an alternative lifestyle, leave me alone". I spent a significant portion of my grade 6 year in catholic school in the corner of the kindergarten classroom as punishment for refusing to participate in anything I deemed unproductive to my personal goals (they realized how much of a vacation the in-school suspension room was for me, and, after a series of seemingly endless psychological tests which resulted in me being deemed "normal and intelligent" they decided okay we can do whatever to this kid she's not dumb, just bad). I had other plans! I had an alternative lifestyle to attend to and very little patience for those who interfered. I'm surprised it took until grade 9 Part 2 (the post-dropout return) before I was arrested at school.

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imagine-loki · 2 years

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Chaos in Yggdrasil City!

TITLE: Chaos in Yggdrasil City! CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Two shot (part 1) AUTHOR: colifower ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki having a relatively normal human life. Goes to work, pays his taxes, studies for his finals… you know, what your average college student usually deals with. However, there’s a catch. His parents’ divorce, playing loudly in the background, and the consequent split of their mob creates the biggest battle between gangs Yggdrasil City has ever seen. RATING: T for teen NOTES/WARNINGS: There would be mentions of mobs, swordfights, Thor is a sex worker this time (nothing explicit)

Also on my AO3!

Loki was sitting in his room, finishing up his homework for the day. All day working in the kindergarten meant that all afternoons were spent in an oversized t-shirt stressing over whatever essay he needed to hand in. And with the exam week in the horizon, that meant most of the nights too.

He hated it.

Well, he didn’t hate the kids, or the job itself, but he heated that neither of his parents wanted to support him in this way. And it wasn’t because they didn’t have the money, oh no. Being the respective leaders of opposite mobs that controlled Yggdrasil City.

Hearing that last sentence could make anybody think of Romeo and Juliet. “Two households, both alike in dignity ….” Nope, the truth was way more ridiculous than that: His father, Odin “Allfather” Borson, was once happily married to his other dad, Laufey “Alligator” Nálson.

But everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Fire Nation being Odin’s inability to just zip his pants. Laufey filled in for divorce as soon as he heard about Odin’s bastard child Thor and the sexcapades with his yoga teacher, Volstagg, that resulted in his birth.

The gang, previously known as the Nine Realms, split up in two. Those who thought Odin was in his right to do what he did, stayed and formed the gang called Asgard. Those who were in Laufey’s side, left to form Jotunheim.

Somehow, Odin got Loki in the divorce. Something to do with the “Alligator” nickname or so thought Loki. His other theory was that Odin just snogged every jury. Who knows! Loki still spent the school holidays over at Laufey’s, hearing him laugh at the old man’s eyepatch while stroking the scar that indicated where his left ear should be, both injuries also courtesy of the divorce, or rather, the fight that broke in the middle of the court hearing.

All that violence, all that drama… Loki always wished for a normal life and dreamed of the day he would be a legal adult and go to university to get a degree in Primary Education. The moment that he turned of age, Loki’s heritage was the main point of discussion between the members of both gangs. His fathers’ were competing for his affections in order to convince Loki to join their side.

Said competition was devastating the city’s public infrastructure, and all for nothing; he had no interest in the family business whatsoever, but neither Odin nor Laufey of them seemed to care. They were more interested in trying to murder the other in the most creative most painful way they could imagine.

Somebody knocked at Loki’s bedroom door, breaking his concentration.

“Erm… Loki? There’s somebody at the door asking for you” said Tess, their roommate. “Oh, that’s a lovely shirt.”

“Oh, erm.. Thanks!” Loki babbled, caressing his rainbow flowered tee that read ‘Queer as in fuck you’. Tesseract had that effect on him, making him violently blush at any interaction. “I’ll go now” he said, fighting the urge to just caress their hand.

“Afternoon” said Loki to their other roommates in the common area. Power and Time were too busy making their tongues battle for dominance as if they were Pokémon to give Loki any kind of answer.

Loki opened the door with a sight. “Fandral” he greeted the man in a plain tone.

“Hello, Loki.”

“What does father want from me again?”

“What do you mean by that?” he said, furrowing his brow. “Can’t an old man spend the night with his son?”

Loki shut him down with a look. He told both of them time and time again that he wasn’t interested in their quest for vengeance.

“Erm… look, man, don’t kill the messenger” he shrugged.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Of course not. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

“You’re being too harsh with good ol’Alligator. You should…”

A dark figure walked down the road, and Fandral instinctively drew his sword. There was somebody out there, and Fandral and the mysterious intruder started to swordfight.

“Oh. My. Norns” shouted Tess from the inside of the house. “Are those guys sword fighting in the corridor?”

Loki groaned. “Don’t worry about it. Just… go back inside.”

“Oh, to hell with that” they said. “I’m staying.”

“What? No! What if you get hurt?”

Tess looked at them, trying to look as innocent as possible. “But Loki. THE DRAMA.”

Loki shouted, but finally agreed to let them see the fight. They looked so cute gasping and shouting at the fight’s twists and turns.

Sif was like a shadow. She managed to infiltrate the student residence (passing the desk registry without Mx. Soul noticing) and sneaked up on Fandral. Well, almost. He was able to block her sword with his just in time.

They fought for a while; Tess was ecstatic while Loki found it more of the same. He’s been on hundreds of situations like this one.

“Are you guys going to finish any time soon?”

“NO!” they shouted at unison, then continued on with their fight.

Loki just rolled his eyes. “I need to submit this essay today. What did you need, Sif?”

“Your father wants you to come to dinner.”

“Fuck you, Sif” shouted Fandral. “He’s coming with me!”

“The Allfather will hear about this” she said between sword acrobatics.

“Of course he will… when the police find your body.”

“What kind of goon are you that you can’t even hide a body from the cops?”

Loki went briefly back inside to make some popcorn for Tess. It was totally worth it, if only for the peck Tess gave them on the cheek. He waited until they got bored to close their front door as quietly as possible.

“Wait!” shouted Sif. “Thor is coming too!”

That piqued his interest. He hadn’t seen his brother in a while. He didn’t even know he was back from his tour. “Ok, I’ll think about it” he said as he closed the door.

“Oi, stop that you two” shouted Mx. Soul, their supervisor. “Either take the fight outside or I’m calling security.”

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted one shot #Submitted fic #Chaos in Yggdrasil City!#part one of two #colifower

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heizuhaevents · 2 years

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Inspirational Hints

Today I want to jot down some hints, ideas, suggestions, questions which might help some people with their pieces ^_^

First Meeting/Childhood Memory

Gosho once told in an interview, that they first met another in a day nursery/daycare.

But you aren’t limited to this.

Heizo and Ginshiro are best friends, right? So they might have had contact beforehand. Maybe right after Heijis birth? Kazuha is a bit older (~1 month) than our Osakan detective, so they maybe have met right after Heijis birth.

Or you’re up to an AU, where they met later on. During kindergarten? During childhood? Or maybe you want to write a whole new story to them and let them meet when they’re in Highschool.

What were their thoughts of each other? Did they like the other one?

Does Kazuha like the spoilt child of her fathers friend?

Does Heiji pull her hair?

Do they have any prejudices on their mind while seeing/talking to each other for the first time?

What does Kazuha think of him talking about detective things?

Was she always tough or did she become like that because of her childhood friend?

Or you come another way and describe the first meeting of one or more of the parents with the kids of the other? Maybe Ginshiro meeting Heiji for the first time? Or even Otaki meeting one of them or both for the first time!

First Case Experience

Heiji already told us about all the cats he searched and found during childhood.

But maybe you want to describe his first murder experience. Or Kazuhas first experience with murder. Maybe they got involved together in that first experience?

What were their feelings?

How did they behave?

Or maybe you have another idea for the small child detective experiencing an exciting case beside the lost cats. Maybe someone tries to kidnap Kazuha? Or him? It might be because of their fathers or even some person who just wants to kidnap a kid.

You could also combine this one with the first day: What if Kazuha would have met Heiji during a case? (No matter which age)

Is she impressed? Or creeped out?

First Trip/Schooltrip

Heiji often travels around Japan as if it’s totally normal. He shows up in Tokyo like nothing. Even though it takes around 3 hours by train. (One direction!)

But was it really no problem for him coming from Osaka to Tokyo all by himself?

What was Kazuhas first experience traveling with Heiji because of a case?

What were her feelings and thoughts? What were his with his childhood friend coming with him?

Did she want to look after him?

Did she expect to come near to him in some way?

Do they maybe share a room to spent less money when they’re traveling because of a case (without the Conan-Gang being around?)?

Or maybe you want to describe their first trip to the police department?

First Day

What was their first day like, after meeting each other, friends or a couple?

Maybe you want to describe how they’re behaving. What they’re thinking about this new situation. What are their feelings. Are they happy? Nervous? Annoyed?

Do they fight all the time or are they all good?

Are they lovebirds or shy?

Or maybe you want to go another way and want to describe their first day at (a new) school. Or their first day in kindergarten. Do they get involved in any trouble (or case)?

What would you think would a first day being at Kazuhas/Heijis side be like?

Or maybe you want to describe Otakis first day with those two kids? Or one of the parents first day with their small child? Or their first day at the police department?

First Love

It’s all about love. But how and when did Kazuha realize her feelings? Was she in love from the first meeting on or was there a special event happening which let her into being in love?

What did she thought about her feelings? Was she always hiding them this good or was she all flustered at first and making Heiji worry about her being ill or something? Did she accept them or was she worried to maybe destroy their friendship when she tells him?

And what’s with Heiji? When we first encounter him during the show/manga now totally aware of his feelings, he acts cool. But considering how much he’s thinking about a right time and place, maybe he had a lot of thoughts about those new feelings or the new knowledge. He also didn’t seem to have talked about it to Kudo at the first time we get to know about his awareness!

Did he act in some weird way the days after his knowledge? Or did he avoid Kazuha maybe? Maybe he just had a lot of thoughts and research to do…? And maybe his mother or father was a bit worried with the topics he’s researching at his desk?

First Date/Kiss

They’re a couple! Or not?

Sure, you can describe a first date between them being a couple. But it can also be a date between friends, their first meeting as friends to do something fun maybe?

But you also can make a friends date into a couple date when there’s a confession during the date!

The kiss might be a couple’s first kiss in the traditional way. Maybe one of them has thought about a romantic place or idea for a kiss? Or is it in a totally unromantic situation or way? It might be an accidental kiss - maybe one that leads to a real one?!

First Anniversary

There are a lot of anniversaries in a couples life.

You can do babysteps and seeing Kazuha or Heiji being all romantic and thinking about all anniversaries like first meeting, first confession, first time holding hands, first kiss etc.

Or maybe some funny one like the first time Kazuha had thrown Heiji to the ground with Aikido?

Or you can choose traditional ones like the day they become a couple or their wedding day.

Maybe they have a special date or someone has a special present for the other? Or did they (or one of them) forget and get into a fight?!

Maybe a totally planned out romantic special date goes incredibly wrong ending in a big disaster?

Or do they maybe tell someone on their special day about the happenings one or some years before?

I hope this helps someone in a way or another. Those are just hints and suggestions, you can alter them, play around with them, combine them, as you like ^_^

#inspirational hints #heizuhaweek2022 #heizuhaweek

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disabledluan · 4 days

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My Experiences with School as someone with Autism

My Experience with school is a pretty complicated one, mostly marked by not beeing disabled enough for Special Ed but too disabled to really fit into regular school.

Also before we start, content warnings for bullying, meltdowns and generally bad experiences with school

My Kindergarten-experience was fine enough (tough I obviously I don‘t remember that much). I had some kids I got along with, but prefered to do stuff alone, needed to be stopped from eating all the walnuts from the tree on the playground and my eyes caused problems, so I got my first pair of glasses. I also was terribly bored, especially in the second year. I allready knew how to read and write and was obsessed with dinosaurs and the stone age and I wanted to learn stuff!

So, the thing about the first year of primary school is mostly about learning to read, write and do some very basic math. I could read at age 4. So I was still horribly bored. I have one particular memory of having to work with one of the slower kids, and beeing horribly bored and very angry at the other kids for slowing down me. My teacher was pretty great tough, and usually gave me extra tasks so I wouldn‘t get too bored.

I got diagnosed with Autism and ADHD in second grade (tough no one bothered to explain that to me) and my parents fought to get me into the gifted-kids-program. Which meant one morning of the week I got to be in a special classroom and work on my own projects (my first one was a big book I reaserched and wrote about whales, illustrated story included in the back). I was also by far the youngest one in the programm, which didn‘t really bother me. The other kids always treated me nice and I was happy to hang out with people at a higher school-level. Also my teacher got married at the end of that school year and we were all invited, which was really cool!

Third year meant switching to a diffrent school house and getting a new teacher. And she was absolutly amazing! I adored her. I also figured out some small accomodations that helped me, like having a table in the back of the classroom facing the wall. Well, we were supposed to have that teacher for two years, but she got accepted into special course (which is absolutly great!) and left after one year. And I did not deal with this well. This is when I had the most frequent meltdowns in my life, I would cry daily, hide under my table and refuse to do anything. I also started getting bullied during that time.

Fourth year allready didn‘t start great. My best friend moved away, I wasn‘t really part of the class anymore, I got bullied, I was bored and my new teacher pretty meh. So I spent months sitting in the back of the room, at my table and read all the magazines he had in the bookshelf at the back of the room. He has this one non-fiction-magazin and he had old issues collected in folders and I read all of them. My favorite article was about frozen mammooths, but sadly it was missing some pages. I still did all the tasks, I excelled at exams, even while spending most of my time reading.

So it was decided to let me skip a year, and after the spring holidays I got to go into fifth grade! Which is where things got really bad. The new teacher was ver inexperienced, this was her first class and allready a loud, not well behaved class and now she had two difficult kids to deal with (there was also a refugee-kid, who was still learning the language). And well, beeing younger than the other kids by one, two, sometimes three years, a head shorter and still very interested in child-things (not tween/young teen stuff) I was a total outsider. It didn’t bother me that much, because I was finally not bored all the time, but it wasn‘t nice either.

In sixth grade, in fall we went onto class camp. And I was pretty excited at first! Well, in four days I had three really bad meltdowns. First, because I was not allowed to try the sauce I helped cooking before dinnertime, so I refused to eat anything for the rest of the day. Then my teacher told me I could not get seconds, if I didn‘t eat the crumbs, which I could not do, because it would make me vomit. Then we were supposed to take a cable car up a mountain and then back down again. I am absolutly terrified of cable cars and my teacher knew that. They still expected me to go along on the trip. I didn‘t. I was screaming and crying in the parking lot and kicking and hitting and trying to bite the teachers.

My parents has to come pick me up and I got kicked out of regular school.

I then spent two weeks in the troubled-kids-program. And with troubled kids they don‘t really mean little autistic girls that have no friends and cry a lot. They mean mostly teen boys that barely show up to school, do drugs and get into physical fights. The teachers didn‘t really know what to do with me. I really loved commuting to school tough and that I got the teachers all to myself (there was a second older kid there at the time, but he didn’t show up a lot)

During those two week my parents and the people from the school board debated what to do with me. The school board wanted to put me into a special ed school, my parents didn‘t because they didn‘t have the programms and accomodations I would have needed (I think they were mostly for kids with intellectual disabilties) and it would have made it nearly impossible for me to get into higher education and university afterwards and I really wanted to study archeology.

So my parents found a private school, kind of specialized on kids like me, that were kind of to difficult for regular school, but not bad enough for most programms available. They die that whole small, mixed-age classes and learn at your own speed stick. Honestly, it wasn‘t a great school. They were seriously understaffed and we didn‘t have that much actual school, but I found a good friend and the teachers let me do my own thing, which meant reading a lot. Sometimes 500 or 1000 pages in a single day. Also I take the train to school since then, which is very fun! The next year I got once again moved up a grade early, so it was back to beeing the baby of the class, not liking my classmates and somehow I was still bored. The school itself also got a lot worse, as the pricipal took in more and more difficult cases. Also the really good cook from the first year quit and we had shit food. So obviously I wanted to get out

I should probally quickly explain hoe high school works where I live: After secondary school I, whixh takes two or three years, you either do a apprenticeship or go to secondary school II, which takes four years, and then to university. There are also special secondary I schools that are a higher level and only take two years, so you can straight into secondary school II. Obviously I wanted to go into that one.

There were two near me, a public pretty big one, and a private smaller one in the same building as my previous school, which I chose. I passed the entrance exam with flying colors (I read Dracula at the same time, which I found more difficult) and I was finally not that bored again! I hated my class tough, I had no friends and got bullied quite badly. I also became kind of a bully myself, because beeing second or third lowest on the pecking order is nicer than beeing at the very bottom.

Anyways, I made it through both years, the pandemic hit and god was I happy about getting to work from home.

I then took the entrence exam to secondary school II and took the chance to switch to the big public school. (Fun fact: both private schools closed about a year after I left) And the last four years have been amazing! My current teachers are (mostly) great, I have a really nice class I get along with very well and I‘m also not bored! There were some hickups, but nothing as bad as has happend before.

I‘m currently learning for my finals and I‘m going off to University to study Archeology in fall!

#autism #adhd #school #special education #actually autistic #disability

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cerikartal · 2 years

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✦ BAHAR SAHIN, FEMALE, SHE/HER ✦ CEREN KARTAL the TWENTY-SIX year old has been in Hidehill for NINE YEARS and was an ADJACENT COLLEAGUE to Jade Parker, the missing first murder victim. Whispers on the streets are that the KINDERGARTEN TEACHER AT HIDE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL who lives in HIDE SQUARE. She is said to be BUBBLY and SELF-DOUBTING but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. { SIE, 28, CST, SHE/HER. }

MINI BIOGRAPHY

she was born in Ankara, Turkey into a big family where she was a middle child with two older siblings and three younger siblings. she often helped her mom and her older siblings take care of the three younger ones, which is how she learned she has a caregiver’s heart and natural maternal instinct. she’ll care about you even if she met you five seconds ago.

their father was always working and rarely ever home so she learned everything about life from her mother. it was ingrained in her that a woman’s place is in the home — running the household, caring for the children, and making sure a meal was ready whenever father came home. from a early age, she knew one day she’d like to get married and have a big family.

being a middle child, she sort of felt like Jan from The Brady Bunch as she felt she mainly went unseen and unnoticed and struggled to find her own way of belonging in her own family. she was often the mediator among her siblings, especially the younger ones. she often felt like a ‘secondary mother’ to her younger siblings as she often helped them with homework, made sure they got ready for school in the morning, etc.

it was when she was a teenager that she saw her father’s anger for the first time against her mother and realized the marriage she idolized was not perfect. it was also around this time that her father wanted to arrange a marriage with her and his friend’s son. this son was a spoiled kid who acted like an entitled asshole because he had everything handed to him. there were a ton of red flags that told her she’d be in an abusive marriage just like her parents.

she is a dutiful daughter, who didn’t want to face her father’s wrath, so she would go through with the wedding but she spent many nights leading up to the wedding crying in secret with her mother and older sisters. on the night before the wedding, her mother came and told her to pack their bags. she refused to see the same cycle happen to her daughter so they both boarded a plane for the States and never looked back. her mother’s parting gift was signed divorce papers.

they ended up in Hidehill, Nashville, TN and Ceri worked as a server at the late night slice while she got her GED and also while she was going to university to get her teaching certificate. she applied for citizenship as soon as she could and hasn’t talked to her family since she got on that plane roughly nine years ago. sadly, her mother was involved in a fatal car accident two years ago on the highway and now Ceri is left to navigate the rest of her life on her own.

she got a position as one of the kindergarten teachers shortly after graduation and has been teaching for nearly four years now. she loves children and her students call her Miss K and she loves being the one who helps build the foundational blocks for them to succeed in school.

#hidehillintro #abuse tw #car accident tw #arranged marriage tw #just in case

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basiccortez · 2 years

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All the Jake and Sage blurbs!

I want to know more about sage and baby brother or sister if you’re willing to share!!

okay okay, Jake and Sage and Reader:

Sage: age 7

Most of Sage’s early years were spent on the road with her father and uncles. Jake didn’t let the life of being a father slow down his music career. The band had taken a break for Sage’s first year of life, deciding to create a new album instead. Jake had a new found source of inspiration, and it showed in the way he wrote. Jake had written ‘Light My Love’ the very same day Sage was born. Every song on the album was a subtle nod to his daughter. But now, Sage was older and getting to the age where school was beginning.

When you had first met Jake, he had expressed how much Sage’s education meant to him. Jake had struggled in school and didn’t want the same for his daughter. He wanted her to go to the best schools, and learn as much as she could. But Jake also didn’t want to spend time apart from her. It had been hard managing band life and Sage growing up. Instead of going to regular kindergarten, she was homeschooled so she could go with the boys. That was, of course, before Jake had introduced you into Sage’s life. Jake felt comfortable leaving Sage with you for a short amount of time.

You sighed, throwing down another back-to-school pamphlet. Sage would be getting ready to start second grade, but the boys were also planning on going on tour soon. You knew Jake would more than likely pull Sage from school again. You had briefly spoken to Jake about the importance of going to school but he just waved it off. He felt like Sage was learning enough between the four of them on the road. She was also getting plenty of life experience not many other kids got to see or do.

“Hey baby,” Jake said walking into the kitchen and kissed your cheek. He walked over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water and a snack.

“Hey,” You said, treading lightly, “Back to school registration is starting school.”

“So,” Jake shrugged, “We’re leaving for a tour in October.”

“Okay, well school starts in August.”

“I’m aware,” Jake said, “It’s pointless to enroll her when she’ll be homeschooled on the road.”

“Jake. . . the road isn’t necessarily a good place for a growing child to be at anymore. She’s not a toddler anymore. She’s going to be eight before we know it.”

Jake sighed, rubbing his forehead, “What are you trying to get at?”

“She needs to be in school and around kids her age. It’s crucial in development.”

“You think she’s not developing right because she’s with me?”

“No, that’s not what I said,” You rolled your eyes, “She needs to have a set schedule. These late nights, early mornings, and long days aren’t good for a growing child. She needs some sort of structure.”

Jake scoffed, feeling offended. He was Sage’s only parent, and felt like he did everything he could to make sure that she was striving as best as she could. Jake made sure, even on the road, she was learning the basics; she could read, write her name, tie her own shoes, and do simple math problems. She had one of the best tutors free money could get, her Uncle Sammy. Sam was smart, almost scary smart.

“Nah, you think she’s not developing right because she’s with me on the road,” Jake crossed his arms over his chest, “What am I supposed to do? Ditch her for nine months?”

“It’s not ditching her if you let her stay here, with your mother or even me, while she goes to school.”

“Ah! There it is! I knew there was something else,”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You're not Sage’s mom, you’re not her parents. I am. I make the decisions that are best for her.”

Your mouth dropped open, not believing the words that just came from his mouth. You had never once tried to be Sage’s parent, knowing that was not your place, but Jake had encouraged you from day one. You had come into Sage’s life when she was very young, and you were really the only maternal figure she knew. It felt weird the times Sage would slip up and call you mom, but Jake would always smile and assure you that you were, in a way, her mother. But hearing him tell you otherwise, was like a knife to your chest.

“I never have tried to be her mother, and you know that,” You said, taking a step towards him, “I let you make decisions and choices for her because I believe you’ll make the right ones. But you’re not listening, Jake!”

“No! You’re trying to be a parent and you’re not one! Back the fuck off, Y/N. She’s my daughter. Not yours. And she’ll never be yours!”

You took a step back, trying to bite back the tears that well in your eyes. You shook your head, “I-I think I should go, Jake.”

“Yeah, you probably should.” Jake said, turning away from you. You bit your lip and nodded. You walked out of the kitchen towards the living room. You grabbed your coat, going to shrug it on when you heard a small voice from the top of the stairs.

“Are you leaving?” Sage asked softly, her longhorn teddy bear tucked under her arm. Her eyes were cloudy, like she had heard the argument take place.

“Y-Yeah babygirl, I am.” You said, clearing your voice.

“You’re coming back?” Sage asked, running down the stairs. You looked towards Jake, who stared you down. You knelt down to Sage’s level, grabbing her hands in yours.

“I don’t know, bug.”

“No! You can’t leave! He’s sorry, my daddy is sorry for yelling.” Sage said, tears running down her face, “Tell her your sorry! Gramma Karen says it’s not nice to yell at people, it hurts their feelings.”

Jake clenched his jaw, “Go back to bed, Sage.” You stood up to your height and Sage immediately grabbed your leg.

“No! Y/N, don’t go!” She gripped your leg tightly.

“Sage, I’m sorry. I need to go,” You said, your voice cracking as your hands went to pry her off of you.

Jake finally moved from his spot, and helped pull his daughter off of you. Sage screamed loudly as Jake held her, kicking and flailing her arms. You couldn't look back, as Jake was struggling to hold her back from you, as you opened the door and promptly walked out of it and towards your car. You could still hear her crying out your name as you slammed your car door shut. You leaned your head on the steering wheel and cried.

#g's asks #my asks #the adventures of jake and sage

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lululawrence · 3 years

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Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

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edie-baby · 3 years

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baby girls - chapter two | lando norris

Chapter Two: Perhaps

summary: What's the best way to tell the guy you like that you have a kid? Well, lying about it and making him think you're cheating isn't the best tactic, Mila's about to find that out the hard way.

word count: 1650

warnings: swearing, absentee father (the asshole ex has evolved)

last chapter

Dreaming of a perfect man while on a perfect vacation in the perfect scenery was, well, perfect. Until the dream ended, and Mila was forced back into reality by the wails of her daughter coming from the next room, the heartbreaking sound kicked Mila’s motherly instincts into high gear, her sleep-addled brain coming into a laser sharp focus within a split second.

“Hey baby girl, what’s going on?” Mila spoke, scooping Mahri into her arms with practiced ease. Mahri’s sobs quieted almost instantaneously, her tears still tracking down her face with a vengeance. Mila tried wiping the tears away, but they were replaced just as quickly.

“It’s okay, just breathe bubs. Whatever’s making you upset, we can fix. It’s all good.” Mila whispered, bouncing Mahri around the room as it had calmed her down when she was just a baby.

“I want Daddy.” Mahri cried, and Mila could have collapsed at the weight of the words the toddler had said. There was a large hole in both of their lives in the exact shape and size of Mahri’s father. Once high school sweethearts, now sworn enemies.

As much as Mila tried to block out all thoughts and feelings related to Mahri’s dad, she couldn’t blame the kid for missing a man Mila herself found missing sometimes. Matyas was Mila’s first love, her boyfriend since 8th grade, and her best friend since kindergarten. They had grown up side by side, acknowledging they had crushes on each other in their second year of high school, and having a baby together by the second last.

Matyas and Mila, contrary to most’s predictions, had stayed together through her pregnancy, and even for a while after Mahri was born. Matyas would bring all of Mila’s schoolwork home and help her work through assessments while she was pregnant, and once Mahri was born, they alternated taking days off school to babysit when members of their family couldn’t.

But something Mila had never admitted to others was that Matyas was an asshole, only kicking into higher gear once they had both finished school. Mila had an acceptance letter for university and a part time job lined up, whilst Matyas hadn’t even bothered looking, preferring to use the excuse of ‘I have a child’ to stop him from venturing into the adult world. Despite this, cooking, cleaning, and looking after the baby was Mila’s job, obviously because she was the woman, the mother.

When Mila finally decided to end her toxic relationship with her lifelong best friend, she was villainized for it. Her parents and friends blamed her for tearing her own family apart, whilst her older siblings were more than supportive, having accidentally witnessed Matyas’ less than desirable traits. Up until about six months ago, Matyas would visit regularly, taking Mahri for her swimming classes, and playing with her at the park, occasionally taking her for the day to save Mila some money on daycare.

However, much like any tale of a teenager, Matyas was single and lonely, and a barrier to being in a relationship was the fact that he had become a father at seventeen. It wasn’t exactly a big check mark next to his name, so when he had told Mila he needed to move on, find someone special, she didn’t anticipate that meant moving on from his daughter. Six months with no contact was the longest Mahri had ever gone without seeing her father, and it was the longest Mila had ever gone without seeing him. Mila didn’t have the heart to tell Mahri, who looked at Matyas as though he hung the stars, that her father wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Yet as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, Mahri’s cries for her dad became all the more heartbreaking.

“I know, baby girl. But he’s on holiday, remember? He’s having lots of fun in Limbo.” Mila lied, continuing to rock her daughter in her arms, heart feeling heavy as stone at the blatant lies she was forced to tell her daughter just because her ex-boyfriend was a coward.

“I want a new daddy.” Mahri whispered, giving up on keeping her head up, preferring to let it fall heavily onto her mum’s shoulder. Mila couldn’t help but chuckle silently, the unfiltered, mumbled by age, words that her daughter came out with sometimes were what kept Mila going. With a few more bounces, Mila was sure her daughter had fallen back into a deep slumber and moved to lay her back in the small bed, covered with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

Mahri’s words echoed in Mila’s head, and as she reached for her phone to send yet another unanswered text to Matyas, Lando’s face appeared on her screen, an incoming FaceTime call that was as daunting as it was exciting. Mila looked over her shoulder, listening for any movement from Mahri before she answered the call, setting her phone against the toaster on the kitchen counter as she began brewing some coffee. It was nearing five in the morning, and knowing she would be usually waking up in an hour and a half meant it was going to be a caffeine fueled day.

“Hey baby boy.” Mila spoke a moment after the call had connected, looking down at the phone to see Lando’s tired face, snuggled up in bed with a small smile on his face. His smile only growing when he heard the fond nickname fall from Mila’s lips.

“Hi love. Why are you making coffee? It’s so late.” Lando mumbled, squinting to get a better look at what Mila was doing in front of him. His eyes devoured her figure, a large tshirt covering the tops of her thighs, and from what he could see, or lack thereof, she wasn’t wearing pants.

“Actually, it’s early. It’s a bit past five at the moment.” Mila replied, giggling at the way Lando seemed entranced by the view of her bare skin, smiling fondly when he snapped out of the trance at the sound of her joy.

“What the fuck are you doing up so early?” Lando almost shrieked, the volume of it causing Mila to startle forward, pressing incessantly at the buttons on her phone to lower the sound, checking over her shoulder paranoid that the gorgeous Brit had woken her barely sleeping baby.

“Oh, sorry. Do you have someone over?” Lando mumbled, looking crestfallen as he recognised the anxious look on Mila’s face. He couldn’t have been so naive to think that a woman as gorgeous as her wouldn’t have company on a Friday night - Saturday morning for her - and it had been about four days since they had spoken, he should have known.

“Uh, kind of. But no, but yes. Fuck.” Mila cursed, trying to find the right way to tell Lando that, yes, indeed she was worried he had woken someone up, but no, it wasn’t the kind of someone he was thinking of. She watched as Lando gulped, his mind spiralling with images of Mila with someone else, and although he had seen it in Austria, it hurt to know that their week together hadn’t meant as much to her as it did him.

“That’s alright. I’ll, um, let you get back to that, I guess. I’m sorry I called.” Lando muttered, moving to end the call when Mila panicked, the thought of hurting the man she was falling in love with had overridden her fears of him freaking out over the fact that she came with a lot more baggage than initially thought.

“I’ll call you later, baby boy, I promise. I want to talk to you, now just isn’t really a good time. I’m sorry.” Mila’s voice was trembling, she could see Lando’s want to get out of the conversation and never speak to her again, and it was the very last thing she wanted.

“It’s fine, you have your own life. We’ll talk soon. Bye.” Lando finished, his voice curt and clipped, but Mila could very clearly see the hurt hidden beneath the thin veil. She felt a piece of her heart break at the sight, knowing she was not only lying to him, but also causing him pain whilst she did so made her question whether it was really worth it hiding the little ball of energy in the next room.

Before Mila could reply, the call cut out, and she was left staring at the photo of herself, Victoria, and the twitch quartet on her lockscreen, something she had changed to remind herself of the amazing week she spent with some new lifelong friends.

Mila unlocked her phone, desperate to get away from the look she and Lando gave each other, preferring to admire her home screen, a photo from hers and Mahri’s most recent adventure to the park, Mahri laughing her ass off at Mila, who was very scaredly looking at the flock of geese running toward them while she took the photo.

Of course she had to give birth to a sadist, and if she was honest, she’d take that over the obvious masochistic trait she had been born with. The conversation with Lando replayed in her mind a million times, part of her wondering why she couldn’t just own the fuck up and tell him she had a kid. It wasn’t like she was telling him she wanted kids with him, or that he already had a kid, fuck if he didn’t want to, she probably wouldn’t introduce him to Mahri for years.

Yes, Mahri was her number one priority, but she couldn’t live her entire life for her child. She was nineteen, a gorgeous woman, and she deserved to be loved. Perhaps she could live her life with her child, and perhaps with someone else too.

But after today? She wasn’t sure she’d get the chance to even try.

#lando norris #Lando Norris fluff #Lando Norris fanfiction #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris x oc #Lando Norris imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Copycat

Summary:

""Shitty four eyes and clean freak? Would you know what those words mean?" The teacher asked.

Hange and Levi exchanged knowing glances. A parent teacher conference wasn't at all the right place to explain nicknames. Really though, when would it ever be the appropriate time to explain them?"

Levi and Hange learn the hard way that children like to imitate.

Link: AO3

Notes: This has been on my WIPs for a while and I have a few other prompts for domestic verse pieces so will probably focus on them first hehe. Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated!

“Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe…”

The teacher was looking through what could have been the class list. No, it definitely was a class list. They were in a parent teacher meeting, what else could it be.

With the way she was holding it though, it was difficult for Levi to sneak a peek at its contents. Eventually, he gave up and let his mind wander, his eyes soon followed. He spared a glance at Hange to see she had cocked her head just a little bit to the side. She was definitely as curious if not more curious about the contents of the piles of paper.

The teacher, Ms. Wilde had a smile on her face and it had been that way since Luke had started school. Her expression then wasn't too far from her usual smile but her eyes were too wide, her mouth too flat of a line especially when she bit her lips. And when she ran her eyes over documents, she seemed…. Stiff.

Uncomfortable? DIsturbed maybe? Levi was expecting the worst.

“Commander Hange Zoe and Retired Captain Levi Ackerman…” Ms. Wilde corrected, clearing her throat.

“No need for any formalities. I mean you have been taking care of our son…” Hange held one hand out for a hand shake, obviously trying to ease the tension in the room.

“Yes, he’s a pleasant kid,” Ms. Wilde added, nodding her head. The discomfort on her face still did not waver.

He is a pleasant kid. Levi was with that kid 24/7. He brought the kid to school and back home, he cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner and he taught him all chores possible at the ripe age of two. Levi was almost certain that along with it, he had taught the kid basic manners.

Levi had to admit though, he himself wasn’t the most diplomatic either. The kid though was glaringly much nicer than Levi was and on top of that, he had picked up some of his other quirks from Hange. The boy didn’t have to be exceptional though. At the least, Luke should have been a functioning member of the kindergarten.

Not enough to make a teacher squirm as she spoke about him. Right?

Most days… And as Levi reflected on it, he started to dig deeper into the past few years, the almost negligible cracks in between their routine. Was there anything he failed to teach Luke? Hange could have been asking the same thing, she looked at Levi questioningly.

Ms. Wilde cleared her throat and in her own way, she had broken some of the residual tension. “Apologies… I’ve been stalling.” She turned to Hange. “Commander Zoe…”

“Retired… Commander Zoe,” Hange corrected.

Was Hange stalling? Or just deliberately looking for a way to alleviate whatever tension had blanketed the room. Hange’s own corrections though were only delaying the inevitable, stretching the tension for longer than necessary.

“I wanted to talk to you about your son," Ms. Wilde started.

No shit. “Go on….” Levi said softly, not loud enough for her maybe. He subtly moved his hands in some signal to continue, as if that could have been communication enough.

Ms. Wilde stared for a bit longer and when Levi squinted, focusing on the paper underneath, he could tell it was a drawing, the crayon ink, visible from just behind the paper. She then put that same crayon art on the top of that stack of papers. “Shitty four eyes… and Clean freak?”

The words sounded strange from anybody else’s mouth, particularly a teacher who had attempted to say it with so professional of a tone and with emphasis on syllables and on words which made it sound unintelligible to anyone less familiar.

“Excuse me?” Hange asked. She had said those words a little too fast. With Levi thinking the same thing though, it had sounded clear enough.

Ms. Wilde flipped the paper open and down on the table.

There were two stick drawings, one with glasses and brown hair, definitely Hange and one with an apron and a bandana over his head and an unimpressed look on his face. That second one was definitely Levi.

Just below it, a caption which Levi had to squint twice to read

Shut tea for ice clean freek. It was straight out gibberish.

Ms. Wilde preempted it. “Would you know what this means?” She looked back up at them expectantly. “Your son… he tried to explain it to me and he said, you two would say… Shut tea for ice and clean freek.” She had said it with unexpected emphasis on some syllables and it was starting to sound like a glaringly familiar cluster of phrases.

Enough for Levi to freeze in his seat and start to dig for some sense in his speculations.

“Don’t get me wrong… Your child being able to spell at this age… It’s admirable, remarkable really,” Ms. Wilde continued. Was she consoling them or admiring them? With that soft and gentle of a voice, it was difficult to tell.

If Levi hadn’t been too busy trying to make sense of that last phrase maybe he would have at least attempted to read through her body language. The teacher had already presented a problem though and naturally, he found himself attempting to get to the bottom of that initial issue.

Luke had Hange’s brain. With Levi on top of that child most of the day, he was perfectly aware of what Luke would usually be playing with. He had gifted Luke letter tiles and had played with him multiple times, at Hange's suggestion of 'something more educational.'

He could have sworn the other times Hange had gotten off work and had played with those tiles with him before dinner, she had been teaching him herself. Although, some words were strange and unfamiliar, she never thought him any of those words. Never.

Levi looked back up at the teacher, forcing himself to meet her eyes. What was the best thing to say?

These are our nicknames. Nope. Should they be divulging something so personal in a professional meeting?

Maybe he could break that awkwardness by complimenting Luke’s work. For a three year old, Luke did a good job with the coloring. Or maybe Levi was just hyperaware about his dad status and somehow everything their little human made seemed almost surreal, almost beautiful even if it was just a bunch of stick figures.

Hange held the drawing between her fingers, her eyes wide with what looked to be the same wonder Levi was holding in. “We’ve been teaching him how to read,” Hange said. “Read and write.”

“But, would you know what ‘shut tea for ice’ means?” The teacher asked.

“Levi here… He really likes tea,” Hange said calmly. “And he likes it with ice.”

“What about clean freak?”

“He cleans with me a lot…” Levi said.

The teacher sighed. “Apologies for the misunderstanding but those words…” She leaned over, cupping her mouth, to soften to a whisper just for the three of them. “It sounds pretty vulgar to me. If you could talk to your son about it, so he could stop calling the other kids names… That would be very much appreciated.”

“Wait, our son, he’s calling people names?”

The teacher shrugged. “I heard him talking to one of the kids just recently… He kept calling her ‘shut tea for eyes.’ and just the other day, when we were cleaning up the locker… then he called her a cleen freek.” She sighed. “It might be just my imagination but it sounds to me like bullying if you know what I mean?”

“Bullying? How?” Hange asked. The knowing look in her face betrayed such a question.

“Well you see, Sarah wears glasses and she likes keeping her cubbyhole neat so… I can’t help but think he might actually be saying….”

“Shitty four eyes?” Levi repeated it again, with a familiar manner, all the emphasis on the right tones. He could almost taste the sweet venom that laced it every other time he said it before.

“And clean freak?” Hange repeated.

The teacher put her hands up in defense. “But that might just be my wild imagination. If ‘shut tea for ice’ is really code in your family, maybe you could spend some time explaining to your son what it actually sounds like?”

***

Shut tea for ice.

Levi could have been in denial. The first plan of action as soon as he got home was to open and close the cupboard a few times over and stare at the box of tea bags every single time. He was deep in thought, still trying to come up with any other reason for those words to roll so easily out of his son’s mouth.

“You want me to make dinner?” Hange called out from the living room.

Levi instinctively turned behind him and towards the voice, craning his neck to look past the kitchen counter. Hange was sitting cross legged on the floor, a toddler Luke right next to her.

The letter tiles Hange had scattered on the floor were an eye sore.

An eyesore which Levi tolerated. After all, Hange had done amazingly at making Luke one of the smarter toddlers in his class.

Experiment… Titan… Omnivore...Carnivore… Whether the child needed to know how to spell those words at that young of an age, Levi wasn’t too certain. At least if ever the classes shifted to topics on history or science, Luke would have the upper hand.

Or so, that was what Levi consoled himself with as he looked back at the cupboard, trying to erase that picture of a mess in the living room. His own experiences with playing with those blocks had been teaching Luke words like clean, broom, breakfast, lunch, dinner. For a second, he wondered which Luke enjoyed more.

“I’ll make it,” Levi said. “You’re at work most days. I’d rather you spent your free time bonding with Luke.”

Hange didn’t respond and the next few minutes passed with the clacking of the wooden letter tiles on the floor. And then an exchange which Levi felt almost compelled to insert himself in.

“When the creature eats both vegetables and meat…” Hange started.

“Omnivore,” Luke answered.

“And meat only?”

“Carnivore.” He had learned to repeat those words clearly very quickly. Levi had to note as he tipped the tea, Luke had always learned to pronounce the more complex words within a few repeats.

The inquisitiveness and the natural genius came from Hange for sure. And Hange was only nurturing them. Soon, the conversation shifted to animals, and then to titans and why the fuck was she talking about her goddamn experiments?

Even when half listening, Levi never understood what the hell that one experiment after capturing the titan and burning through its hair actually did but Hange was suddenly talking about follicles, roots and some catalytic reaction.

Would Luke know what a catalytic reaction is? Levi attempted to answer it for himself by first asking, what the hell a catalytic reaction was. Whatever slate that had appeared in his mind remained blank and he asked another question. Should a child really be learning those words?

“And you know what a dinosaur looks like?” Hange asked.

“Dinosaur!”

A rustle of papers. Hange muttered something about a pencil.

Found one! Then the sound of scribbling on paper.

Levi was only starting to boil the soup, when whatever conversation on whether dinosaurs were omnivores or carnivores slipped one ear and out the other.

The padding of socks on the carpeted floor, Hange’s hums and just Luke’s high pitched voice lisping at some words, saying lines which could have started with Rs or Ws were faint and Levi found himself passing the time just listening to them as he stirred the soup.

He bent over, pulling out the tray of baked chicken from the oven. “Hange,” he called out.

Hange took a second longer than necessary to respond. “Hm?”

“Set the table,” Levi said. “It’s almost dinner time.”

No response. No clicking of plates, no slamming of utensils on the table.

“Hange?” Levi asked.

“Wait, just this last page,’ Hange said louder.

Levi closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Hange was murmuring, words Levi couldn’t make sense of. And the lisping words, the mispronounced Rs and Ws and garbled syllables were telling. Luke was reading something out loud.

“That’s right! So, the plants eat through photosynthesis," Hange said.

“Hange, set the table,” Levi said.

Hange sighed in response. There were footsteps then the clack of plates.

Levi soon confirmed for himself that Hange had stood up, tiptoed and pulled a serving plate and a bowl from the upper cupboard. He transferred the roast chicken and the soup onto the plates. While it cooled, he took the bread basket and dropped it on the table, raising one eye at the view in front of him.

“Hange,” Levi said, louder this time.

Hange was back in the living room, cross legged once again, an open picture book in front of her. Luke had shifted to half lying down position, stomach down on the floor, propped up by the elbows.

“Are dinosaurs real?” Lukei asked.

Hange nodded. “They were alive a long time ago,” she said.

“Hey, you two. I said, let’s eat.” Levi found himself looking away as he noticed Luke’s mouth twist into a pout.

Hange sighed in disappointment. “Alright Luke, let’s stand up.” She carefully pulled her son up and guided him back to the table. She moved sluggishly towards the dining room table and it looked very much like Levi had virtually twisted her arm just to get her up.

To make things clear though, he didn’t. There were more pressing things at that moment than making sure the food he worked so hard on was eaten. Levi stared at them then back at the scattered letter tiles on the floor. Then back at Hange again.

The years might have just made it easier for Hange to pick up the silent question just with a few glances. “We’re gonna go back after we eat,” she answered,

“And you’re fine leaving a mess like that there,” Levi said. “What if someone trips on that?”

“Well, we won’t. Luke and I know that it’s there and you can just watch where you’re going right?”

“It’s still a hazard,” Levi argued.

“A negligible hazard.”

“Can’t you just clean it up then bring it out again later?”

“It takes time,” Hange answered nonchalantly as she walked past Levi.

For a retired commander with a full-time job rebuilding Paradis, time felt like a luxury more than disposable income did and Levi had only ever silently acknowledged that. The moment he looked back, he realized there wasn’t much he could have argued about. Hange guided Luke to his chair, and she started to pour the soup into his bowl.

Levi sat next to Hange and served Hange first then himself, a pressing distraction, long enough for Levi to need not look back at the mess on the floor.

“Luke, chickens look a little bit like dinosaurs,” Hange said.

Levi rolled his eyes. Most of their meals usually ended up as a science lesson.

Luke seemed to be enjoying it though. He clapped his hands excitedly. “We’re eating dinosaurs?”

In response to that, Levi shoveled more of the soup into his mouth, enough to give any excuse not to speak up. That wasn’t his conversation. It was Hange’s and Luke’s.

“Technically yes,” Hange said.

What the fuck is she researching this time? Hange did too many jobs at once that Levi never could catch up to her theory or vernacular wise.

“Like the book! The dinosaur looked like the book!” Luke said excitedly.

“Yes! You remember!” Hange mirrored that same excitement.

“Are dinosaurs like titans?”

“Technically no… They can be the same size... “

“Are titans omnivores?”

Hange hummed. She dropped her spoon and put one finger to her chin, a very climactic sequence of motions that could have meant she had something interesting to say. To the disappointment of everyone in the family, she returned the question with one word. “Maybe.”

They don’t eat. Levi added to himself silently.

“Do titans poo?” Luke pressed.

Hange opened her mouth to speak. “They don’t…”

And Levi only had a split second to note the glimmer in her eyes, then the wonder that could have come from reminiscing nights worth of experiments. Then the familiar excitement and passion he had seen so many times before in the barracks over tea.

Oh no. He looked back at the soup, a mixture of beans and tomatoes, the green of the vegetables sticking out at very strategic places.

What the fuck.

And Hange’s tirade only continued, and naturally Levi’s mind made sense of the words having had too many direct experiences with titans to last a lifetime. If he looked at his own soup from the right angle, with the right vegetable bits in the right places and the right lighting from just above them, he realized it looked just like vomit.

He was in a frustrating position, hungry but with no more appetite. He pushed himself up. “You two just keep talking. I’m gonna clean up.”

Hange stood up. “Wait, Levi where you going?”

Everything was just suddenly pissing Levi off at that moment. “I’m cleaning up your fucking mess.”

“That’s not a mess!” Hange retorted, an incredulous look on her face.

“I told you, just bring it out after if you wanna play again!” Levi bent over, and started to mix the blocks amongst one another. Words like carnivore, omnivore, photosynthesis, follicle suddenly mixed among one another. The tiles were suddenly gibberish, letter soup. And the more he mixed, the worse it became.

It became easier to put them into the basket.

“We were planning to go back to it after dinner. You didn’t have to clean it up,” Hange chided.

“Well, you two might step on it,” Levi said.

“Really?” Hange raised one eyebrow. “You can’t watch where you’re going?”

“Listen Hange, I’m the one who cleans this house ninety percent--- hell, a hundred percent of the time. I decide what messes we can leave around.”

“Well, it takes a kid a while to pick up the words, we were supposed to practice reading.”

“Hange a three year old does not need to know what photosynthesis means.”

“Three and a half,” Hange clarified. “A child his age does not need to live in an immaculate environment.” Clean. Hange definitely meant clean. The way she had said the word ‘immaculate,' the fact that she had chosen such a heavenly word, an almost self righteous sounding word felt almost mocking. “Why do you have to be such a clean freak about this?”

“Why do you have to be such a nerd about this. He’ll learn how to read big words at his own fucking time,” Levi said. He noted the way Hange had put one hand to her chest, seeming scandalized at whatever insinuation Levi had brought up.

When he was dealing with the someone who couldn’t bat an eye at hygiene and clutter, who suddenly thought the pursuit of knowledge was a must have for a poor four year old, Levi wasn’t feeling too guilty at offending her, at least not too much. He opened his mouth, only intending to let it out as a release born from quiet anger. And during moments of heightened emotions, sometimes he lost a little control, and sometimes, he’d fall back to very familiar habits.

Shitty four eyes.

Hange could have heard it, but they had said it so many times before, that she didn’t open her mouth to speak. He couldn’t be too sure either that he had said it out loud.

“Daddy? You want tea with ice?”

Levi only realized then, when the silence broke and a young Luke went in between them a mug in hand.

No hot water, no tea bag. A look of confusion on Luke’s face. ‘Daddy, shut tea for ice?” The words were stilted, the syllables garbled against one another.

Levi and Hange had both looked at Luke with the same surprised look, surprised but very very understanding of the current situation.

***

Shitty four eyes.

Luke didn’t have a potty mouth. Or at least, he wasn’t supposed to.

Levi was with Luke the most among everyone. The heavy responsibility of 'main provider' on his back, he found himself thinking back to every single ‘alone time,’ the two of them had since Luke had been old enough to talk. It had been a year at least since Luke had started to seem more like a companion than a responsibility. When Levi looked back at it though, he thought the moments to be countless and consequently, he had found it difficult to point out the exact point in time where Luke had thought it a good idea to blurt out the words ‘shitty four eyes.’

Coming up with no conclusion, he desperately grasped for a glimmer of an explanation. “Luke’s a nice kid, he wouldn’t call people names,”

“I don’t doubt that,” Hange responded, seeming not at all bothered by the chain of events.

“Hey, we’re still gonna have to explain that to Luke?”

“You tried a while ago, right?” Hange asked “What did Luke say?”

“He just kept repeating it… Shut tea for ice. Shut tea for ice.” Levi whispered in response, letting it get softer and softer on his tongue. It had been just an hour before they had put their son to bed. The conference, the incident just a while ago suddenly had self conscious about how loud they were talking and how close the bedroom door was to the living room. He turned to the sofa and sat a few more feet away from the door, as if that could have done anything to make their conversation more private.

“So Levi, what do you think that means?” Hange asked. She had moved next to him, as if she understood Levi’s intention with switching seats.

“He didn’t seem hostile,” Levi said.

“So he doesn’t think what he’s saying is bad right?”

“He called you shitty four eyes too.” Levi turned to Hange.

“And shitty four eyes has never been an insult to me. You’ve been calling him that since before,” Hange said.

“So what do you suggest?” Levi asked.

Hange was in deep thought for a second, one hand to her chin. She turned to the phone on the kitchen counter. “Calling someone more experienced maybe.”

***

Historia had a child, a good few years past the terrible twos and threes. Naturally, she seemed almost nonchalant about that problem.

“Imitation,” Hange said so confidently, yet so abruptly that morning as she sipped her coffee. She turned to Levi and grinned in the same exact way she would have dropped a research-backed theory many years ago when she was still a titan researcher.

“Titans used to imitate right?” Levi said. Mentioning the magic word ‘titans’ could be enough to pull any good ideas out of her.

“Yes, I know,” Hange said matter-of-factly. “And titans and humans are a little different… It would be easier to have a peaceful conversation with titans. Luke understands me almost perfectly. And you too. I think we can talk to him first about why using nicknames is bad.”

“You think a three year old can understand a convoluted explanation by Hange Zoe?”

“Three and a half,” Hange clarified again. If he can tell omnivores and carnivores apart, I’m sure he can tell the difference between calling people names and respecting people right?” She propped her mug on the dining room table and looked expectantly at Levi.

Levi averted his gaze. “Hange, do you think a three and a half year old will get it?” He dropped the tea bag into the mug and watched as the darker liquid consumed the water, touching the rims of the mug. He walked back to the dining table, settling himself on the chair right in front of Hange.

Hange chuckled. “Worth a try right?”

“Daddy! Shoes!” Luke was painfully demanding. And of all moments, it had been then that Levi noticed that Luke had picked up some of their attitude.

Right. Although Luke could easily get ready for school himself, tying shoes was still something Levi had been in the process of teaching him. “I’ll just help him tie his shoes first.”

“I’ll go ahead.” Hange gulped the last few drops of coffee. “Gonna be late for work. You think you can handle this?”

“Talk to Luke right?” Levi asked. “About the importance of respect?” He had put emphasis on those last three words, as if to hint to Hange that introducing such an abstract idea to a three year old seemed like not so good of an idea.

“Worth a try right?” Hange responded as she stood up and slung her back over her shoulder.

“And if it doesn’t work?” Levi pressed.

By then, Hange was already closer to the door than the dining table, far from hearing range of Levi’s naturally soft voice. Levi felt it pointless to say it louder, especially since by then, Hange had already slammed the door behind her.

And he had bigger fish to deal with, like a frustrated son, who had knotted the laces of his shoes enough times that Levi struggled to find the tips. “Luke… Why… Did you do it like this?” Levi had to resist the sweet temptation of inserting a ‘fuck’ somewhere on that question. After all, it wasn’t Luke’s fault he was just a three year old who was still learning the ropes.

The process of unknotting a very tight knot though was painful, frustrating enough for Levi to sit down crosslegged in front of his son. It was taking longer than a few seconds, enough to have a conversation.

“Luke… The school told me about ‘shut tea for ice’”Levi started and when he started to pull at the top most knot, he felt some sort of release with it, some extra reserves of patience he could easily tap at.

“Shitty four eyes! Clean Freak!” Luke responded happily.

When Levi looked up and met his son’s eyes, he couldn’t help but be somewhat bothered by the knowing and confident look. “You shouldn’t call people names Luke.” He put one finger right in front of Luke’s face.

Was that how to tell a kid off? Levi had been working with Luke long enough though to know, Luke didn’t understand what he was saying. Or maybe he didn’t understand what Levi meant.

What would Hange say? When Levi reflected on that though, the only thing he could salvage were her rants on photosynthesis and titan experiments. If their son understood those, he should understand a lecture on respect right?

“No.” One word Levi had learned as a parent. “No calling people names,” he added, his voice softer that time.

Luke pouted.

Levi had a soft spot for his son’s pout and consequently, he did what any sane parent would have done in that situation. He stared at the clock. Fifteen minutes before class starts. He stood up and took his son by the hand. “Come on Luke, let’s go to school.”

On the way to school, he allowed himself another session for self reflection. Imitation huh? Levi thought to himself. He had to admit, he may have called Hange ‘shitty four eyes’ more often than not and in return, he may have brushed off a few ‘clean freaks’ from Hange as well.

They could try to wean Luke out of it right or at least find out why Luke had been using it at school? He could leave that to Hange though, and maybe consult a bit with their teacher.

Levi took a deep breath, a loud one, particularly when they passed through one of the less saturated parts of town on the way to school. He was sure he had enough reserves at his already scarce social battery to deal with asking advice from teachers.

***

Same advice as Historia.

Children were master imitators. And whether a three year old (or a three and a half year old according to Hange) would understand such an abstract concept as respect, that was one thing they weren’t sure of.

So when dealing with a toddler, play with their imitator side, not this belief that they might actually understand an abstract concept.

Levi had repeated those same words to Hange. By that evening though, he had forgotten half of it, and he had hoped that was the message she got.

“So, we should change how we talk to each other then…” Hange leaned back on the sofa. “But when do you think Luke heard us say it?”

Levi shrugged. “When do you say it?”

In return, Hange shrugged and let out a short laugh. “To be honest, I don’t remember calling you a clean freak either.”

“When we fight?” Levi suggested.

“Or when we don’t?” Hange put her hands up. “Anyway, the important thing is, he hears us say it. That kid won’t get shitty four eyes or clean freak out of anywhere. So we watch ourselves okay? No using bad words in front of our son.”

“That’s easy.” Levi narrowed his eyes at Hange and sat back on the sofa. “I’ve been doing that ever since Luke was born.”

***

With a little more self-introspection and blatant awareness of his surroundings, Levi started to realize it wasn’t as easy as he had expected it to be. He had stopped himself enough times that his throat had been sore from the many times he concealed his own penchant for vulgarity with a dry cough.

“Luke, make sure to put your bag back in the room,” Levi said from the kitchen as he pulled an apple from the fruit basket. It was just like every other day before, pick Luke up, prepare an afternoon snack. Very routine, very predictable and the only thing that made it a challenge had been the heavy awareness that Levi did curse on a regular basis.

Or maybe just the fact that he had to watch himself, had him very very heavy, as if every move had to be cold and calculated.H e was a little more careful than usual with cutting the apple. And he was terribly terribly slow. By the time, he turned back to the kitchen counter, sliced apples arranged neatly on the plate, Luke had already settled on the seat in front of him, looking expectantly at the plate on Levi’s hands.

How long he had been there? Levi didn’t want to ask. “Are you hungry?” he asked instead.

Luke nodded. It was a stupid question, but at least his son was too young to judge his ineloquence.

He dropped the pile of apples in front of him and made himself comfortable on the seat next to his son. “After this, you wanna play with the tiles?” Levi offered.

But never freak. Levi told himself as even the prospect of teaching his kid was starting to weigh on him.

“Let’s play with the tiles!” Luke clapped one hand on the table, and he shoved one of the apples into his mouth.

“Okay, I’ll bring it out later,” Levi said. He took one apple from the plate and started to munch on it, only interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing a few seconds later.

Most days, the phone ringing was a nuisance, peppered with conversations with salesmen, customer service. Having grown up with a place with no phone, but too many scams, it was only natural that Levi would detect the opportunity for scams in that new fangled piece of technology.

There was one voice which always made the process of using the phone though, bearable, if not pleasurable.

“Levi! What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Four eyes, you’re out from work early.”

There was a pause, a pregnant and awkward pause. Then Hange spoke up. “Is Luke with you?”

The silence and that one question spoke for him. Levi spun around to see Luke, staring right at him. “Four eyes… Shitty...Four eyes?” The young boy repeated. It sounded rehearsed the first time around, then confident the second time.

There was a lot he had to teach the kid.

“Just take out food for dinner. Luke and I will have a long talk,” Levi said.

***

Levi’s mind was a blank slate. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing though.

Whatever he was supposed to say to lecture Luke on proper respect lasted at the most, a few seconds in his muddled brain. It went into one ear and quickly out the other.

Somewhere along the way, Levi had given up. He had mentioned words like ‘respect,’ ‘not nice.’ When he didn’t even believe half of what he had spewing out of his mouth, he ended up unable to blame Luke for wearing such a blank expression.

Would Hange have done a better job at teaching Luke? Maybe.

Levi had never been the most diplomatic person, having sat at the sidelines every time Hange had been negotiating trade contracts and war treaties. Besides, he didn’t believe it completely necessary either to teach children not to curse.

There were bigger fish to fry, like rebuilding a war torn country, eradicating poverty and starvation, income inequality and terrorism.

Having lived like a soldier his whole life, dealing with something so mundane as a teacher’s request to teach his child not to curse, seemed almost mundanely unnecessary.

When his son was insulting other children, when a teacher was telling his son off for it, Levi didn’t necessarily find it horrifying. School rules were school rules though and their new society made compliance for three year olds a big issue. Maybe he could leave that educating to Hange though, and just focus maybe on teaching the young boy how to read.

He rearranged the letters and a few times, he gave free rein to his son to form words himself.

There were easy words like ‘dog,’ ‘cat,’ and ‘cow.’ Although Levi had been surprised that Luke had independently put together more complex words like ‘broom’ and ‘clean,’ he started to accept anyway, that it was only natural that the young boy would know them. After all, Hange had been teaching him more complex words like ‘photosynthesis,’ ‘omnivore’ and ‘carnivore.’

Luke had been spelling all those words on his own while Levi watched silently. And when Levi started to scramble the pieces again, just to watch what his son would create, he started to notice some pattern.

Shut

“Shut!” Luke screamed. He didn’t completely open his mouth though, and it started to sound more like another cursed word. Levi wasn’t going to mention that though.

“Shut…” Levi explained. Like ‘Shut up.’ ‘Shut up’ wasn’t the most diplomatic expression and it was probably better not to teach his son that at such a young age. “Like shut the door,” Levi added a second later. He mimed the act of slamming a door closed, suddenly self conscious of how rude it probably would be to slam a door. Was Luke going to start slamming doors if he made his movements too forceful?

Ice

“Ice!�� Luke read aloud.

“Ice…” Levi paused for a second, racking his brain for the best way to explain it without having to go for the refrigerator and risk making a mess on their matted living room floor. “The cold thing…”

Four

“Four!”

“The number,” Technically there were two words ‘four’ and ‘for.’ What do you call those filler words? How do you define the word for? Levi realized then, there were only too many ways he could explain what words like ‘for,’ ‘to,’ were used for. He could just leave that to the school to explain.

Tea

“Tea!”

“Te---”

“Daddy likes tea!” Luke started. His face fell. “Right?”

In shock, Levi didn’t even notice he had frozen still, his hand dropping the tile. He nodded. “Yeah I like tea.” He allowed himself a tight lipped grin as he adjusted the letters just to make his son’s final product a little neater. “I really like tea.”

“Shitty four eyes?” His son said again, his excitable tone from a while ago unwavering.

That’s a bad word. Levi wanted to say. That’s disrespectful. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else though. After all, his son was a bundle of innocence, a bundle of excitement. Did Luke even know what the hell he had been saying?

Levi was pathetic. He was weakshit. And he couldn’t even bring himself to disciplining his child on something he personally didn’t even believe in. He continued to reflect on it as he rearranged the letters again. Then he further wallowed in whatever guilt settled in him as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen. As he prepared dinner, then washed the dishes.

When Hange came home, he at least had been ready enough to speak. “I think he’s too young to understand,” Levi said.

“Well a three and a half year old would have a hard time understanding abstract ideas right?”

“Says the parent who’s teaching a three year old science.”

Hange pouted. “Science is not an abstract concept.”

“That’s not the point,” Levi said firmly. He knew if he didn’t interrupt Hange there, she probably would have gone on another tirade. “Do you have any ideas? On how to deal with this?”

“I have one,” Hange said. “I was talking to Historia just today, and some other parents…” She propped her chin on the palm of her hand. “Have you considered… Aside from just laying off, the shitty four eyes first? And I’ll lay off the clean freak? I mean, the kids apparently, at this age, they like to imitate and if we just be more careful about what we’re saying and try to say something nicer, more positive as nicknames. He should stop right?”

“We’ve been calling each other for years,” Levi commented.

“But, not in public right?” Hange said. “You never really said it during meetings.”

“Well those were meetings.”

“Think of this as a meeting, except this time, our son is probably listening to us every single time.” She frowned, wrinkled her nose and looked behind her. Just on the other side of the wall was Luke’s bedroom. It was late at night and he probably was asleep.

But with their conversations and Luke's tendency to pick things up, it only proved that the walls may have been too thin and their son may have been very observant.

Levi raised his eyebrows. “So you’re saying…”

Hange nodded. No clean freak. No shitty four eyes. AT ALL. She spelled out those nicknames slowly and carefully, just so their son wouldn't’ pick the words up, taking in the small possibility that he was awake.

Levi sighed. “Fine.” He wasn’t fine. Their home was supposed to be their private space. Luke would be a sponge for information but a stranger to logic and abstract concepts for the next two years.

Letting go of such an intimate habit born through years in the survey corps just to please the teachers and to make it easier for their son fit in, seemed almost unfair. He sought solace at least in Hange’s forced grin. She didn’t want to do it either.

We suffer together. Levi thought to himself. With a quick glance at her, Levi was sure Hange understood. Making it an issue of pride and misery made it all together a more bearable challenge.

***

It was bearable at least. And it took a little more careful introspection to pick up those few moments he had called Hange 'shitty four eyes' or ‘four eyes’ and he started to realize, it had been more difficult to point out than his own abrasive choice of words and his own vulgarity.

Shitty four eyes after all, never seemed like a string of curse words or insults. It was a pet name, so invisibly embedded in conversations that Levi felt strangely incomplete not peppering his dialogue with it.

Hange seemed to struggle as well. Clean freak. She used to say. She had started to replace it with something more diplomatic. “You really like cleaning huh?” A few syllables longer but it felt terribly, terribly unnatural. And Hange always accompanied it with the widest and most cringe inducing grin.

Every single time, Levi would look away, to stop himself from laughing or grimacing, one of those. Hange must have been doing the same though.

Shitty four eyes.

He had replaced ‘shitty four eyes’ with the closest thing he could come up with. It had taken some strict observation from other couples to pick up the best one. “Yes honey, I really love cleaning,” Levi admitted. He put enough emphasis on the pet name, hoping that would at least teach their child about proper pet naming conventions, the importance of ‘not cursing’ and just conventional diplomacy.

Hange was only making it harder to take the challenge seriously, a sardonic grin constantly plastered on her face. Every single time, he had called her honey, she looked away and cleared her throat, or let out a wracked cough, a good disguise for what he guessed had been a laugh.

A shoddy disguise but somehow, it seemed to work. Luke would watch them every time, his stare far from blank. He had on the same face he made every single time he would form those words with the blocks. Luke was deep in thought. “Shitty four eyes! Clean freak!” He said a second later.

Luke would then repeat that many few times over dinner or breakfast.

Imitation. Levi would tell himself, will himself to ignore Luke’s words. As painfully uncharacteristic as it was. Levi would trod on with his mission. “Honey, you want more bread?” Levi tried to make that one word seem as sweet as it sounded. He never got the practice though, so he wondered if he ever had the innate ability to make any words sound sweet.

“Thank you honey,” Hange responded, her grin much wider. A split second later, she looked away, seeming ashamed with herself.

Levi couldn’t blame Hange. It was a painful rendition, her tone seemed very much rehearsed. And when it was common knowledge between them that she was naturally more eloquent than he was, Levi found himself wondering how bad he sounded.

As long as Luke learns. Levi willed himself to swallow whatever embarrassment and stifling sensation came with the slow and excruciating weaning process from very intimate habits.

Luke eventually picked it up. “Ho...ney?” he repeated as his eyes darted between his two parents.

Yes. Honey. Levi nodded.

Luke’s face fell, his expression shifted from something curious, then something confused. Ending with something that could have been a hint of crestfallenness.

Levi couldn’t be too sure though. The boy looked down at his food and Levi couldn’t bring himself to crane his neck and sneak a glance to confirm it. The drooping shoulders of his son was enough to get his stomach turning though.

How long would it take for him to get used to it? Three weeks? Months? Eventually Luke should get used to it… Right?

It was one of those rare days where Hange had decided to work from home. Her piles of paperwork took up more than half their dining table and food would seem more like a hazard than a necessity.

When Hange was only present during weekends, Levi at the least, tolerated it.

On one condition, he was allowed to straighten out the almost two foot tall pile everytime he passed by the dining room in between household chores. When Hange was deep into hundreds of pages worth of reports though, she didn’t look like she minded Levi’s silent interruptions.

“What time are you picking Luke up from school?” Hange asked.

Levi looked at the clock. “He gets out of school at two today,” he answered. It was eleven, and half his mind was already looking into planning lunch.

“Okay,” Hange said, her focus fell back to the paperwork.

It wasn’t anything new, even on weekends or any other day Hange was home, Levi did most of the cooking and cleaning. Hange’s presence did manage to take some of the load off household management off of his shoulders.

Answering the phone was no exception.

Most days, Levi was capable of doing it on his own. When the vegetables were boiling on a pot, the pasta heating in the oven just below it, Hange offered to answer the phone.

“Zoe residence… Speaking…” Hange had always been better at answering the phone anyway. “Luke?”

Levi’s ears perked up at that. He lowered the heat of the stove, as if that would have done anything to make the conversation clear.

“What? Why? No… We’re not.” Hange’s voice was racked with surprise. “....You’re right. We’ll get there soon… We can leave now… We’re not too busy….”

Hange? Not busy? Levi had turned off the stove. Lunch never was the most urgent thing. “You’re going to school?”

“It’s about Luke.”

No shit. “I can tell that much from the conversation,” Levi said. “What happened?”

“He just started crying apparently…” Hange said.

Levi sensed the urgency in the speed at which she pulled her coat over her and retied her hair. “Crying over?” Levi pressed. Luke rarely cried and just that thought had Levi’s heart pounding.

“When the teachers were explaining… Luke was crying about… his parents… About us?”

“Your son said, you two ‘’didn’t love each other anymore’” the headmaster explained. It had been just them in the office but with the way the headmaster had explained it, it looked like she could have been quoting Luke word per word.

Levi surreptitiously flashed Hange a look of confusion, a glance just to see if she knew anything.

She seemed as lost as he was. “Can we talk to our son?” Hange asked.

“Before that, I just wanted to discuss the family situation first… See if we could do anything to support Luke through this?”

“Through what?”

“Through your ‘separation?’”

Levi turned to Hange, his eyes wide. We’re separating?

Hange furrowed her brows at him, an incredulous look. She turned abruptly back at the principal. “Who told you we’re separating?”

“Your son said you two have been fighting a lot. And he seemed very affected...”

“Fighting?” Levi asked. Are we?

No we aren’t. Hange’s expression said it all. “If there’s any misunderstanding, we can explain it to Luke ourselves.”

“You have to understand. We have our students welfare in mind. If we believe that your son is being raised in an unsuitable environment…”

“Excuse me?” Hange put one hand to her chest. Her tone was slipping to something with more emotion than any attempt at compromise.

“Just let us talk to our son,” Levi said. The echo of his own voice sounded unfamiliar in that small voice, especially since Hange had done the talking the whole time.

“We’ve been hearing as well about the vulgarities your son has been spouting...” the headmaster said.

“Yes, we’ve been working on it,” Levi said firmly, with every intention to interrupt the old lady.

“I’d like first some verbal commitment from both of you at least to work on this? We treat every child here like part of the family. With the case on Luke’s word usage and his suddenly bursting into tears in school… It looks like his home environment might not be ideal.”

“Can you let us talk to our son please?” Levi said. He turned to Hange. The brunette had fallen silent yet she seemed very much deep in thought.

“Could you please explain though from your end the debacle about the ‘shitty four eyes’ and the ‘clean freak?”

“We’re working on it,” Levi repeated. Somehow, it was getting harder and harder to sit still.

The condescending look in the woman’s face, the accusing glare wasn’t making it any easier. “But have you been working hard on it? Can I ask what is causing you to employ such vulgarity in your own home, in an environment for children?”

Since when did schools in Paradis get this vigilant about children’s home lives? It was a welcome change at least but Levi was in no mood to ponder the benefits of such an arrangement. “With all due respect ma’am, that’s none of your goddamn business.”

Levi could have just made it worse. And Hange said so herself, in between a stifled grin and a stifled chuckle.

If his own treatment of the very snobby principal could have done anything to convince the whole school that they were shitty parents. He was confident at least, Luke would defend them.

I mean a three year old should be capable of defending their parents right?

A three and a half year old. Hange’s words echoed in his head. If the ‘half year’ of living did anything to make Luke anymore aware of what exactly was going on, he prayed it did work.

Whether it was because he was three and a half or he was merely three, he seemed to have understood. A flash of recognition as they locked eyes along the hallways, Luke still let go of the Ms. Wilde's hand and ran towards them.

By some instinctive need to prove something maybe, Levi clutched Hange’s hand. She gripped back.

Luke seemed to have noticed it. “No fighting?”

“Fighting? Who said we’re fighting?” Hange bent down and patted her son on the head with her free hand.

A wide grin on his face, Luke turned to Hange. “Shitty four eyes.” Then to Levi. “Clean freak.”

Levi bent down, right next to Hange. “Yes, this is my shitty four eyes,” Levi said as he put one hand on Hange’s head, pulling her close.

“And this is my clean freak,” Hange pointed a finger to her left, towards Levi.

Something felt natural and intimate and something tasted sweeter than honey when he was saying those words again, words he had kept nill for months.

The grin in Luke’s face only made the release all the sweeter. “Shitty four eyes and clean freak!” Soon, he was running back to the teacher that had called out to him. He still had a few more hours of school.

“I guess we’ve been pretty careless about the nicknames huh?” Hange whispered wryly. “He’s probably just too young to understand what ‘shitty’ or what ‘freak’ could imply in any other situation.”

Levi stared ahead, at the young boy who was talking to the teacher in whatever childish babble the three year old could manage. “You know, the nicknames never felt like an insult to me.”

“I mean, we have been using them since we’ve met right? It just slips off our tongue every now and then,” Hange said as she let out a soft chuckle.

Every now and then. No a lot more often, than every now and then. To the point that Levi never felt it when it happened. Yet the absence of such words were painfully glaring.

“What are we going to do now about Luke’s language?” Levi averted his gaze, perfectly aware that if Luke had learned anything, it had probably been from his father.

“Have you ever taught him what the words ‘shitty’ or ‘freak’ meant?”

“Never,” Levi said.

“Then maybe we don’t have to think too much about it?” Hange suggested.

But it continued to nag. After all, the teachers continued to stare, probably whispering. Levi and Hange spent the last few hours before school ended just sitting by the courtyard of the school and they had more than enough evidence by then to be sure, teachers were talking.

When the bell rang, they found themselves attempting to brush away whispers and glares from the teacher, instead focusing on the hallways which were starting to fill with toddlers and kids.

And eventually, they found Luke, next to him a young girl in pig tails, with glasses. She wore a blouse and a skirt without a single crease on them. “This is my shitty four eyes… And my Clean freak!” Luke said. The girl next to him waved her hand, a wide grin on her face, not at all fazed by the words ‘shitty’ or ‘freak.’

Levi exchanged a knowing glance with Hange. No other words were shared between them but somehow they both understood. Maybe adults were just overthinking that very simple thing called language.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

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