Imaboringtwat - Idk What To Put Here

🤝

not to oversimplify an extremely complex discipline but if i had to pick one tip to give people on how to have more productive interactions with children, especially in an instructive sense, its that teaching a kid well is a lot more like improv than it is like error correction and you should always work on minimizing the amount of ‘no, wrong’ and maximizing the amount of ‘yes, and?’ for example: we have a species of fish at the aquarium that looks a lot like a tiny pufferfish. children are constantly either asking us if that’s what they are, or confidently telling us that’s what they are. if you rush to correct them, you risk completely severing their interest in the situation, because 1. kids don’t like to engage with adults who make them feel bad and 2. they were excited because pufferfish are interesting, and you have not given them any reason to be invested in non-pufferfish. Instead, if you say something like “It looks a LOT like a tiny pufferfish, you’re right. But these guys are even funnier. Wanna know what they’re called?” you have primed them perfectly for the delightful truth of the Pacific Spiny Lumpsucker

Guys stop.

david tennant is hot i'm not retracting this thought

Nest at the End of the World

Aziraphale ♡ Crowley • 25k • Rated.T

Aziraphale hears it all. The flood of love. The joy. The unbearable hope.

“I thought you’d want to meet her.” Crowley adds, quieter now. “Her name is Julie.”

A pause. The French accent is soft but unmistakable, deliberate.

Aziraphale frowns. Crowley knows he’s not exactly enamored with all things French… except, perhaps, their pastries.

“You gave her a French name?”

Crowley swallows. The movement is small, but Aziraphale sees it. He did it on purpose.

“We live in France now,” Crowley says. “On an estate. In Brittany.”

His gaze drops to the baby again, and something in him softens, melts—as if her very presence rewrites him, makes him new. That baby has changed him. And Aziraphale—aching, unsure—wonders if he’ll ever be allowed to know this version of Crowley.

Crowley’s voice is quiet. Almost hesitant. A hope dressed in humility.

“We wouldn’t mind moving back to London… if you’d like to see us more.”

Aziraphale doesn’t answer at first. His lips part—then close again. The baby stirs softly in Crowley’s arms, a tiny sigh escaping her, as if she feels the tension coiled around her fathers’ heart.

Aziraphale’s eyes flick to her, and something inside him shatters. She is real. She is theirs. And she is… beautiful.

His breath catches. He wants to step forward. He wants to touch her. He wants to know her. But instead—he steps back.

“I…” His voice breaks, and he quickly swallows, collecting himself. “I can’t. I won't. This can’t end well, Crowley, it never does.”

He doesn’t want to be cruel, but he needs to be real.

-Chap.11 - Dust and Silences-

Read on my AO3