“Don’t forget your lunch box, Daniel!” Clara called as the six year old ran out of the room as soon as he caught sight of his mum.
She sighed and dropped her head forward, hair shielding her face from view. She rubbed her temples. Little ones were exhausting. Clara had wanted to teach older kids but this had been the only opening at her local school so she’d taken it. And she loved all the little monsters in her class but days like this that seemed to drag on forever wiped her out.
She dropped her hand and caught sight of a pair of pink trainers with untied, slightly muddy laces in front of her.
Automatically, Clara dropped to her knees and started tying the laces. “You’ve got to keep your shoes tied, love. Don’t want you to trip and hurt yourself.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” a very amused voice answered. A very amused voice that most definitely did not belong to a child.
Clara looked up slowly and was met with twinkling whiskey colored eyes belonging to a gorgeous blonde woman her own age. Her cheeks flushed as she stood up. “I’m so sorry, it’s been a long day and it’s habit at this point to tie the kids’ shoes and I just assumed. And I’m rambling, who are you?” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, tilting her head as she took in the blonde stranger.
“Rose Tyler,” she said holding out a hand. “You must be Miss Oswald.”
↳Teacher AU: When Rose Tyler starts working at a new school, she’s pleased to make fast friends with fellow teacher Clara Oswald. She’s funny and smart…and absolutely beautiful, and Rose can’t help but fall head over heels almost immediately.
Clara sighed as she dropped the last box in her new living room,
rolling her shoulders. “That should be it. Thanks, Danny.”
time if you’re buying lunch,” Danny replied with a grin, and
Clara rolled her eyes at him.
on me. Promise.” She walked him out, leaning on the door frame as
he walked into the hall. A door across the hall and a few doors down
well I’m leaving without you.” Clara jerked around at the sound
of the familiar voice, rather surprised to see a former student
walking out of the apartment down the hall. Jenny Tyler paused,
blinking, when she saw Clara.
Oswald? What’re you doing here?”
Clara waved a hand behind her. Jenny raised an eyebrow, looking at
you teachers really do have lives outside of school.”
In the fall of 1830, Victor Hugo set out to write The Hunchback of Notre Dame against the seemingly impossible deadline of February 1831. He bought an entire bottle of ink in preparation and practically put himself under house arrest for months, using a most peculiar anti-escape technique:
Hugo locked away his clothes to avoid any temptation of going outside and was left with nothing to wear except a large gray shawl. He had purchased the knitted outfit, which reached right down to his toes, just for the occasion. It served as his uniform for many months.
For much of the academic year, I want nothing more than to be at home, sipping on a cold drink, with nothing but “should i top up my spf?” on my mind. Although seemingly impossible in February, the month of June, came quicker than expected, and sure enough, I was on my way to the airport with my passport in hand.
The first few weeks were great, I revelled in the fact that I had absolutely nothing to do. I’ve managed to read a couple of books, re-start my exercise kick, and you bet I have sipped on numerous cold drinks. However, you can take the girl away from student-central, but you can’t really take the student out of her. I’ve started studying for next year - much to the horror of my friends. Oh well, somethings don’t really change. By no means is it necessary to study over summer - in fact, I wish I wasn’t really like this - but I guess there’s nothing wrong with being prepared?
My mind’s already dreaming about being back at university. I miss it so.
Jotaro’s house is close to the sea. If he’s not at home, then he’s cruising the beach or enjoying the local aquarium. Try to get on his good side, otherwise he’ll send you on endless impossible fishing errands. You can’t catch a Catfish in February Jotaro! (Also, if you happen to see him watering his hybrid rose garden, don’t comment! He’ll be intolerable the rest of the day)
“An alien? Really?” She sounded more curious than disbelieving, which was a step in the right direction.
“Well, technically I’m a generated anomaly of an alien, but one thing at a time. I find that’s usually all that humans can handle.” Jenny stood still as Clara examined her, the brunette’s gaze turning more mischievous the longer she looked. The blonde began to fidget, tugging at her ear before she remembered herself.
“Not exactly what I pictured an alien species looking like. Are all of you this… tidy?”
Jenny furrowed her brow. “I do consider myself organized, but I don’t see how you could have possibly inferred that from my appearance.”
Clara laughed and shook her head, her dark brown hair catching the light and turning golden. “Not what I meant. Sorry, that’s what I get for picking up slang from my students. Nevermind that. Anyway, how do I know you’re really an alien? You look human to me. What separates you from us ‘Earthlings’?”
“You mean besides my superior intellect?”
Clara rolled her eyes. “Yes, besides that.”
Jenny dug around in her rucksack for a bit before pulling out a stethoscope. She held it out to Clara, who took it with a puzzled look.
“What do you want me to do with this? Listen to your heartbeat?”
“Heartsbeats. Plural. I have two.”
“Yes. Binary vascular system. See for yourself.”
Clara stepped forward, looking skeptical. She put the stethoscope in her ears, but before she could place the chestpiece in the center of Jenny’s chest, Jenny took Clara’s hand and guided it to the left. She allowed Clara to listen for a moment before guiding her hand to the right. The dubiously amused look on her face instantly transformed to one of wonder. Jenny found she quite liked that particular expression on her.
Clara pulled away, and Jenny found herself slightly imbalanced. She shook the feeling off quickly and discreetly.
“So, you’re an alien. Anything else different about your anatomy?” Clara smiled innocently.
“Well, besides the respiratory bypass and increased stamina and agility, physically I’m very similar to a human.”
Clara gave her a slow once over, then looked her in the eyes and smirked. “Increased stamina and agility. Good to know.”
One adventure brings Clara and Rose together when they see a ghostly apparition of a man called “The Doctor,” someone that Rose has only mentioned before. While Rose is spending some time by herself in the TARDIS, Clara asks the TARDIS to show her who the Doctor is. She then asks Rose about him, and Rose tells her everything.
Some time later, a mysterious force called The Great Intelligence targets Rose’s timeline, and Clara jumps into Rose’s time stream to rescue her…in more ways than one. Rose then uses her powers to bring Clara back.
Walking around, after almost two months of insomnia. Prospects look quite bleak at the moment and my eyes hurt like hell, but Hope is like a resilient virus from outer space - quite impossible to kill her.
Asked and Answered: “You Too Can Make a Difference”
“Each and every time, a new generation has risen up and done what’s needed to be done. Today we are called once more — and it is time for our generation to answer that call. For that is our unyielding faith — that in the face of impossible odds, people who love their country can change it.” — Barack Obama, February 9, 2007
When President Obama took office, he had a simple request for his staff: Send me ten letters a day. Ten letters that reflect what Americans from every corner of the country with every background — the stories, cares, and concerns of the very people who elected him to the presidency.
He’s continued that practice every day since, reading, responding, and visiting the homes and hometowns of letter writers who have inspired him and his policies. And today, as the President heads back to Springfield, Illinois where he began his “improbable quest” to the White House, we wanted to share one letter the President received from a young woman concerned about the state of our politics in America.
In May of last year, Katherine Wiykovics told the President, “I’m afraid.” She feared that our politics had become so broken and so steeped in partisan rancor that the possibility of progress made together — by red states and blue states — was slipping from our grasp. “So I ask you: What can I do?” The President would respond with a handwritten note.
Read her letter, and the President’s response, below.
March 25, 2015
Dear President Barack Obama:
I hope you and your family are doing well despite the trials and tribulations that are guaranteed to be brought on by the presidency. My name is Katherine Wiykovics. I am twenty-six years old and currently a graduate student at Michigan Technological University in Houghton, Michigan, working on my Master’s in Computer Science that I hope will lead to a PhD in Computer Science as well. Like many of the youth on campus, I like to play video games. I play probably too many games for my own good, mostly those that involve strategy or some sort of puzzle that I have to solve. I like trying to find solutions to problems, and I have a strong belief that with ambition, determination, intelligence, hard work, and courage in the face of adversity, anyone can make it to where they want to be. Not always in the matter they wish, and where they want to be may change along the way as I certainly didn’t expect to go to graduate school when I was younger, but I can happen. Yet all the time, I am faced with a complicated problem that I cannot figure out how to solve, or where to begin.
Increasingly in this country, all over in our own ways, we are divided. You claimed years ago that there were no red states and blue states, but the fact of the matter is surveys have stated that a majority of parents of both Republican and Democratic parties would not be okay with their children marrying someone outside of their political opinions. This sort of thing troubles me greatly, because our policies are now dividing us as much as race or religion has in the past. How are we as Americans supposed to get anything done when compromise is such a dirty word? Compromise does not mean give in, it means to work together and it seems we the people are headed toward a horrid end if this does not stop. I’m afraid, Mr. President. I am one who is not swayed so easily by emotion in my politics, but in facts and the facts are that we cannot have a country divided and have a stable government.
So I ask you: What can I do? I want to do something beyond just signing some random online petition that always seems to get nowhere. I want a government that works, I don’t want to worry about a shutdown anymore. I don’t want to watch more and more people become disinterested in politics because nothing can be done to fix things. I want to see unafraid voices stand not for political but for reason. It is often said that those who play video games heavily do so because there is little agency in their own lives, that they play in order to feel like they can accomplish something. It is my reason, I can do so much more to save fake worlds, fake nations, than my own. Tell me, how can we begin to unite people in compromise? I mean, if we can’t do it, that means I’m in trouble as my boyfriend is from a very Republican family, and I’m from a very Democratic one. My parents like him, but I don’t know if his will like me.
Ms. Katherine Rose Wiykovics
This is the President’s response:
Thanks for the letter. You seem like a wonderful young lady.
I know politics seem frustrating sometimes. But despite all the rancor you see on TV, people are making a difference everyday in every corner of the country. So find an issue care about, and volunteer — you’ll meet people that inspire you, and find that you too can make a difference.
And don’t worry about political party when it comes to boyfriends; just make sure he’s kind, loves kids, makes you laugh, and is honest!
Despite every challenge, the progress made over the past seven years proves that the single most powerful word in our democracy is “we.”
As the President said in the State of the Union:
“My fellow Americans, whatever you may believe, whether you prefer one party or no party, whether you supported my agenda or fought as hard as you could against it — our collective futures depends on your willingness to uphold your duties as a citizen. To vote. To speak out. To stand up for others, especially the weak, especially the vulnerable, knowing that each of us is only here because somebody, somewhere, stood up for us. We need every American to stay active in our public life — and not just during election time — so that our public life reflects the goodness and the decency that I see in the American people every single day.”
NYC Censored History: NYPD Officers infamously fired 41 shots at an unarmed Amadou Diallo on this day in 1999, killing him and bringing race relations and police brutality to the national stage once again.
In the early morning of February 4, 1999, Diallo was standing near his building after returning from a meal. At about 12:40 a.m., police
officers Edward McMellon, Sean Carroll, Kenneth Boss and Richard Murphy,
who were all in street clothes, passed by in a Ford Taurus. Observing that Diallo matched the description of a since-captured well-armed serial rapist involved in the rape or attempted rape of 29 victims, they approached him.
The officers claimed they loudly identified themselves as NYPD
officers and that Diallo ran up the outside steps toward his apartment
house doorway at their approach, ignoring their orders to stop and “show
his hands”. The porch lightbulb was out and Diallo was backlit by the
inside vestibule light, showing only a silhouette. Diallo then reached
into his jacket and withdrew his wallet.
Seeing the suspect holding a small square object, Carroll yelled “Gun!”
to alert his colleagues. Mistakenly believing Diallo had aimed a gun at
them at close range, the officers opened fire on Diallo. During the
shooting, lead officer McMellon tripped backward off the front stairs,
causing the other officers to believe he had been shot. The four
officers fired 41 shots, more than half of which went astray as Diallo
was hit 19 times.
The post-shooting investigation found no weapons on Diallo’s body;
the item he had pulled out of his jacket was not a gun, but a
rectangular black wallet. The internal NYPD investigation ruled the
officers had acted within policy, based on what a reasonable police officer
would have done in the same circumstances with the information they
had. The Diallo shooting led to a review of police training policy and
the use of full metal jacket (FMJ) bullets. On March 25, 1999, a Bronxgrand juryindicted the four officers on charges of second-degree murder and reckless endangerment. All four officers’ bail were set at $100,000. On December 16, an appellate court ordered a change of venue to Albany, New York,
stating that pretrial publicity had made a fair trial in New York City
impossible. On February 25, 2000, after two days of deliberation, a jury
in Albany acquitted the officers of all charges.
In April 2002, as a result of the killing of Diallo and other controversial actions, the Street Crime Unit was disbanded.