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needleandhammer · 3 years

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From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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tojismaiden · 3 years

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SNK Male Characters as Yandere's (Modern AU)

WARNING: will contain dark themes.

Eren the Violent

It's a known fact that Eren doesn't have the best temper in the world.

But for you, he'd try his best to be patient. Key word: Try.

When Eren saw you, you were like the light at the end of the tunnel. The rainbow after the rain. The finish line. The trophy. The angel that every devil sought after.

You were kind to almost everybody but you were also fearless when you need to be. You helped everyone that you could and that included Eren. He got into another fight? You'd patch him up. He's lashing out on someone again? You'd calm him down. Everytime he needed someone, you were there.

So who could possibly blame him for falling for you? For wanting you?

At first, it was just an innocent crush he had on you. But days passed and he found himself growing more agitated. You were just too good, too pure. Eren knew that deep down, he had to have you. He's lost so much in his life, he can't lose you too.

So when the time came that he confessed, imagine his surprised and embarrassment when you told him you were with someone else. Of course, Eren being Eren, he'd pretend it's nothing and carry on with his day.

You thought none of it of course and kept treating Eren as how you saw him as; a friend.

Eren isn't the most patient man in the world, and neither is he the most calm one.

So please don't be surprised if you find your s/o brutally murdered.

"Oh, Y/N. I'm so sorry about your partner. I heard what happened. Such a shame, really."

"It's okay, Eren... I just— I just don't understand. Who would do something like this?"

"I don't know. But whoever it was, the person may not have liked your partner at all. In fact, that person might have hated them."

Your partner's death saddened you immensely but you were thankful that Eren was with you as you grieved. However, the more you spent time with Eren, the more concerned your friends got. They had bad vibes with him.

And Eren felt they don't particularly like him.

So the next time you see a news about an unknown killer going around?

Ignore it.

Your friends falling as victims of the said killer? Ignore it.

After all, Eren did it for you. So you could be together.

Forever.

Armin the Manipulative

There's no denying that Armin is smart. Way too fucking smart.

He would top in his classes and everyone came to him whenever they needed help with their homework.

But what exactly did Armin like about you? Simple. It's your sincerity.

Sure, he has friends and sure, his classmates would thank him whenever he helped them but with you, Armin could really feel like you learned something from him. It wasn't like the usual where the other would get the answers to their questions but obtained nothing from his explanation.

With you, you really applied what he taught you.

And Armin felt... appreciated. Like he wasn't being used to people's advantages.

So ever since then, Armin would willingly help you. Even offering to tutor you privately, free of charge! And each time you two spent time together, Armin's feelings for you grew stronger. The stronger they got, the more he got slightly too infatuated with you.

Weekly tutors turned into everyday tutors to the point where Armin would even tutor you during the weekend!

But who were you to say no? You were so thankful. If it weren't for Armin, you might have backloaded a subject or worse, repeated a grade!

You barely had time for your friends anymore but Armin assured you that it's better this way. That it's better if you prioritized your study sessions with him because your friends would just distract you.

And hey, come to think of it. Weren't they the reason you slept so late the last few weeks and almost made you miss an exam?

However, as busy as you are, you somehow found yourself in a situation where you got into a date with someone. An upperclassmen one of your friends introduced you to back then.

And when Armin found out, he was livid. But he loves you so much that he couldn't possibly bear to hurt you, no. Instead, he saved you from the inevitable torment.

"Y/N, you did this portion wrong, do it again." "Y/N! Didn't I tell you to replace this number with this? Do it again." "We're not stopping until you get it right."

Sure, Armin can be strict, but it's for your own good.

"Y/N, I apologize if I was harsh today. I just want to see you do good. And I'm so proud of you. I really believe you'll ace this test this week."

"I-It's okay, Armin. And thank you for helping me again. I promise I'll—"

"Say, Y/N, you should really stop seeing that person. I heard you were going out on a date with (Your crush's name). I suggest you don't. I heard they're going out with a friend of yours. (You friend's name) is their name, I think?"

"W-What? Where did you heard that?"

"Everyone's been talking about it. Plus, I think the reason you're doing pretty bad today is because of them. So please, Y/N, we worked really hard for you to get such good scores. Wouldn't you wanna make your senpai proud?"

You're so thankful for Armin. And you really don't want to disappoint him after all of what he's done for you.

So what better way to repay him than be obedient?

Jean the Stalker

It's not rocket science that Jean is a handsome young man.

But when he saw you? Oh, boy. He felt as if everything in the world felt right. You were just so fucking beautiful. The first time he saw you, he just couldn't look away. It felt as if his breath got knocked out of him.

He was sure you were a God/Goddess walking on Earth. Never had he seen someone so ethereal.

But the thing is, you were just so out of his league. While everyone kept talking to you, made friends with you, flirted with you, Jean stood from afar and watched you from the distance.

Sure, he follows your social media accounts. But he couldn't help but make dummy accounts and followed your accounts as well. He didn't want to take the risk of accidentally liking a picture of yours from years back with his personal account.

He didn't want you to think of him as a weird stalker or something because Jean is definitely not a stalker, no. Just no chance of him being that.

What Jean didn't know, is that you never noticed him at all. It's not your fault though, he was usually quiet and blended in the background. If you ever did see him around, you'd forget about him soon after. A shame, really.

But don't let Jean know that.

What started as him following your social media accounts turned into him just simply following you around.

He took note of you always stopping by at this convenient store right after class to buy your favorite drink and favorite sandwich almost everyday before you go home.

It happened so frequently, him walking with his hoodie on, head hung low as he walked a few steps behind you and somehow watching you buy the exact same thing everyday.

But everytime, Jean would only stop by at the convenient store. Once you were done, he would walk home. He didn't want to follow you home. Well, it's not that he didn't want to, it's just that he doesn't have the courage yet.

However, curiosity got the best of him and at night, when you were going home late, he followed you on your way home and you swore you could feel as if someone was follow you.

"Who's there?" Nothing.

When Jean successfully followed you home, it was like something inside him flicked open. And every night, he would stop by outside your home for an hour or so and every night he would see your silhouette as you took off your clothes and changed into comfier ones, and Jean had thoughts where he'd imagine just how you looked underneath them.

With each passing day, you felt as if you were continuously being watched. Being followed.

Maybe next time, you should really learn how to close your window.

Say, do you remember where your favorite underwear went?

Erwin the Blackmailer

You could never really ask for a better boyfriend. Erwin has it all.

At least, that's what you thought in the first few years of your relationship.

Erwin was everything you wanted and more. And he loved you so much... way too much.

And truthfully, you loved Erwin too. But there's no denying he's gotten so unbearable.

Back then, you would have done everything for Erwin. But every bit of love that you had for this man was now replaced with fear.

When Erwin began to openly express his obsession with you and his primary goal of making you all to himself, you had run away from him, far too scared of the lengths he'd go through just to satisfy this... obsession of his.

You noticed it little by little. But never had you thought it would come to this.

It started small at first. He would stop you from spending time with your friends little by little until you could no longer see them.

He would say something about them being bad influences. Going as far as to make up convincing lies that you, stupidly fell for.

After that, he stopped you from seeing your own family. Cut ties with those who are important to you. Deprived you your freedom. For he thought that you, going outside meant that you would meet someone else other than him.

And the thought of someone even merely looking at you made his blood boil.

But everytime you ran away from him, he would find you. Doesn't matter if you hid from him for weeks, months. He would end up finding you each and everytime.

At first, Erwin liked the cat and mouse game that you played. He thought it was thrilling. But then he slowly realized you were gaining this new profound strength. As if you thought that he wouldn't do anything except to find you and drag you back with him.

"I'm not going with you anymore, Erwin! I'm sick of this shit. You're all bark but no bite. Well, guess what? I'm done. And I'm not coming back!"

"Bark but no bite, eh? I wish you hadn't said that, Y/N. Say, your best friend doesn't live too far from here. You wouldn't mind if I pay them a visit, right? I'm sure they're worried about you, doll."

Ever since then, Erwin would blackmail you by threatening to hurt your loved ones if you didn't do as you were told.

This made your fear for him to go back and one time where you did disobey him despite his threats, you received a news where your bestfriend was found badly beaten in a dark alley and the perpetrator was nowhere to be found. Your bestfriend almost died if the suspect hadn't stopped.

And deep down, you knew this was Erwin's doing. It served as a warning that he wasn't afraid to kill for you so long as you stayed with him.

"I'm doing this for us, doll. Why can't you see how much I love you?"

"They don't deserve you, Y/N. They aren't willing to go for miles for you. But me, I would do anything to keep you by my side. Isn't that what you wanted? You said you didn't want to lose me, right?"

Erwin loved you so much. He wouldn't want to risk losing you ever again.

Maybe he should try going after your family this time the next time you try and run away from him.

Levi the Possessive

Levi had lost more people than he could count. So the moment he saw you?

He didn't want to let go.

What's scary about Levi is that you don't know what he's thinking of. He would never let you know what it is that runs through his mind.

He knows, however, that you're just like him. You lost your family and you barely had any friends. And you worked as a waiter/waitresss at this local diner to earn money for your tuition fee.

Levi understands. He's been through that struggle and he could see it on your face. He took note of everything you did. And he made a habit of coming in for tea even though the tea in the diner tasted like shit. But if you made it, he would make sure to leave an extra tip.

Levi made sure that it was you who would serve him everytime. If it were someone else, he would request for you immediately.

You never really noticed Levi, in all honesty. It wasn't his fault. It's not that he's not attractive. It's just that you were too far in your head to even look or strike a conversation with him.

You were quiet and obedient and somehow Levi liked that about you. It just means you would put up a less of a fight. Means it would be easier to convince you. Means that you would always say yes.

Though Levi hoped that underneath that submissive nature to you, you would somehow have a backbone there. Being too compliant would bore him to death.

And he witnessed that when you suddenly snapped at a customer for being perverted. You were almost fired on the spot if it weren't for the fact that Levi testified for you.

That was the first time you truly noticed him.

Ever since then, you made sure that you would be the one to serve Levi everytime he came by. And you made his tea extra special, which he appreciated. It was the least you could do after he helped you out the other day.

Days passed and Levi had successfully scored a date with you. The first time he saw your apartment, he was really glad to see it clean and organized despite its dinginess and small size. It was all you could afford.

Levi suggested a stay-in date at your place, just so he could see if you were fit to live with him. Once he saw how great of a cook you are, how tidy you are and everything, he knew it was time to eventually convince you.

Sex with Levi meant that he would top you. All of the fucking time. And everytime it happened, he would always mutter the same thing to you:

"You're mine. All fucking mine."

Of course, you treated it as simple dirty talk. Men say that all the time, right?

Eventually, Levi brought up the idea of you living with him. At first, you declined. You couldn't possibly do that. But Levi having a silver-tongue meant he eventually convinced you.

Living with Levi was a walk in a park. You'd help him clean and would tell him that you would help out with the bills but you were surprised when he told you that you didn't have to worry about that.

"Just sit down and look pretty for me, brat. That's all you need to do. You don't have to worry about the money."

You didn't like that Levi didn't want you to help with the bills but you couldn't possibly retort something back. He let you live in a nice home with a nice bathroom. Who were you to have a say in things?

Days passed, and Levi somehow brought up the topic of you quitting your job.

"What? But I like—"

"Like being a waiter/waitress? Come on, Y/N. Your colleagues are absolute assholes and don't get me started on your manager. I see how he looks at you."

"I'm sure that's not true, Levi..."

"Are you doubting me?"

"W-What? N-No, I—"

"That's a good girl. You know I'd hate it if those dingy dickwads were to look at what's mine, right?"

You quit your job.

Levi knew you'd be bored inside the house so in return, he let you sign up in one of those online courses to keep you busy.

It was all coming into plan. Finally, he got the partner for life he always dreamed of. The one that would cook him dinner everytime he came home from work. Would pleasure him in bed when he's stressed. Would clean without him having to ask you.

You were so perfect.

People hadn't heard from you for months. But Levi convinced you that there's no need if people heard from you or not. Eventually, they would forget about you. You had no family, you had no friends, all you had was Levi.

And if you found out that Levi would lock you inside the house everytime he left for work, you would choose to stay silent.

And if he were to ask you to wear a chain around your ankle, who were you to say No?

After all, Levi gave you everything.

Levi was your everything.

And you were everything to Levi.

How could he ever share something so precious to the world?

#attack on titan #attack on titan fic #shingeki no kyokin #snk fic #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #yandere eren #armin arlert #armin arlet x reader #yandere armin #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschstein #yandere jean #erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #yandere erwin #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #yandere levi

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 4 - ao3 -

“Qishan Wen has sent the invitations for the discussion conference,” their father said. “They will be holding a competition.”

The elders murmured thoughtfully in response.

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure why, since the Wen sect always held some sort of competition when it was their turn – the other sects tended to vary the main event, feasts and hunts and academic discussions, but the Wen sect loved competitions. Although perhaps it was just Wen Ruohan himself who did; since he’d been the sect leader for so long, it was impossible to tell the difference between his preferences and his sect’s.

“Qingheng-jun can lead the disciples,” one of the sect elders said, and Lan Qiren’s brother stood and saluted respectfully before sitting back down. “As for the rest…what skills should we select for?”

“Equestrianism,” their father said. “And music.”

“Music?” one of Lan Qiren’s teachers – an old man who usually all but slept through these meetings, but respected enough that no one commented on it – asked, blinking awake and rubbing his eyes in a way that suggested he thought he was being discreet. “Since when does Qishan Wen appreciate music?”

Lan Qiren's teacher in music, who'd clearly been about to ask the same question, shut his mouth with a poorly-hidden smile.

“They don’t have to appreciate it,” another teacher, this one of swordsmanship, said, his tone distant and cynical. “They just have to have someone in mind that they think will win. Qishan Wen values victory over all else.”

“And they are crafty," yet another said, nodding. "Including it in the listing might be a stratagem to get us to send more disciples talented in music and fewer in other areas, to reduce our chances of winning the main event –”

“Both riding and music are listed as the main events,” Lan Qiren’s father said, his cold clear tone slashing through the others’ voices and putting an end to the debate. “Let us proceed in selecting disciples to attend.”

The list was quickly settled, and for once Lan Qiren was nominated to go. He hoped it was on account of his musical talents, which he was pretty proud of, although he acknowledged it might very well be due to his heritage. He made plans to go to visit the library pavilion at once, thinking about what scores might be appropriate to study in preparation – based on the description in the invitation, there would be a technical challenge, in which they would all play the same piece, and then an individual selection where each player could show off their personal skills…

“Looking forward to showing off for your lover?”

Lan Qiren slowed to a stop. It was one of the wittier, more personable disciples, a distant cousin of his named Lan Ganhui – one of the ones that thought they were funny, and others seemed to agree.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked, puzzled. It seemed as if he were, but at the same time... “I don’t have a lover.”

“Really?” His cousin was smiling. “But we’ve all heard how highly Sect Leader Wen thinks of you.”

Lan Qiren blinked. “He complimented me once. Three years ago. When I was thirteen.”

With the benefit of hindsight and age, it was clear to him that his father must have been right about Wen Ruohan’s motives: he had only been making trouble deliberately, trying to stir things up. A test of his brother’s mettle as the prospective new leader of the Lan sect, no doubt.

Occasional teasing aside, what were the chances that he'd actually found Lan Qiren to be interesting?

“You’re far too modest, Qiren-xiong. Everyone knows how picky Sect Leader Wen can be – you must have done something to get his attention.”

Lan Qiren was not good at understanding people and their subtleties as a general rule, but he had sufficient practice at childish taunts to understand the implication, and he felt his ears burn.

“Do not speak ill of people,” he said, putting his hands behind his back to hide how his fists clenched. “You should report to the discipline hall for violating the rules.”

“Violation excused,” his brother said from behind him, voice calm – even cold – as always. “Don’t take things so seriously, Qiren; it’s only joking between friends.”

Lan Qiren was not friends with Lan Ganhui, but he probably should be. It was his duty as one of the heirs of the main clan to be magnanimous with the other disciples of the sect.

As irritating a task as that might be.

“Walk with me,” his brother ordered, and naturally Lan Qiren obeyed.

They went in silence for a while, their path the familiar one used to make the rounds of the Cloud Recesses – it was a task they were all assigned once they were old enough, and Lan Qiren recognized the twists and turns of it at once. He wondered what that meant, if anything.

If he were with one of his teachers, he would be able to extrapolate that the subject of imminent discussion was not a serious one; that they felt they could both fulfill their duties and speak with him meant that it was not a subject that required their full attention. But somehow, despite their closer relation, Lan Qiren sometimes felt as if he did not understand his brother anywhere near as well as he understood his teachers: it was possible that in this case the subject was important, but his brother more capable than their teachers of splitting his time and attention, or maybe simply didn’t care about one of the two tasks he was performing.

That was one of the things Lan Qiren had never really understood about his brother. His brother was the great hope of their Lan sect, the bright light of their generation; when he finally became sect leader, it was expected that he would help lead them to an ascendant position in the cultivation world and allow their clan to flourish, one andall. Yet sometimes it seemed as if he saw his duties as merely a burden, to be completed as quickly as possible – he was always trying to do more than one task at a time, trying to finish and put them aside, as if he had compared them to some ideal in his mind and found them wanting, purposeless, and therefore irrelevant, even if the task were key to the well-being of their sect.

Their teacher in swordsmanship – one of the few people his brother seemed to really like, though of course he was properly filial to all his teachers – said that he had the best chance of any in their generation of becoming a true immortal, if only he devoted himself, and Lan Qiren supposed that that was his brother’s goal. After all, hadn’t Wen Ruohan raised his sect higher and higher simply on account of having been there longer than anyone else…?

“This will be your first discussion conference in several years,” his brother said, drawing Lan Qiren’s attention. “Will it not?”

“Since the last time our sect hosted,” Lan Qiren agreed. It had been the Jiang the year after, and at fourteen he was too young to go to an official conference; then the Jin the year after that, and the Lan sect never sent too many people to suffer the rush and bustle of Lanling City. If he had had some extraordinary achievements, they might have sent him, but he didn’t.

This year, though, he was sixteen – just under the official age of eligibility for those not in the main families of the Great Sects, which was seventeen – and known to have some talent in one of the areas in question, so it would be a loss of face for their family not to send him. Otherwise, he suspected they would have waited another year until the discussion conference was held by the Nie sect, who as a close ally to the Lan sect would offer a much safer way to be introduced to the cultivation world.

“I see,” his brother said, and continued walking some distance. “You will need to be mindful of your actions, of course.”

“Of course,” Lan Qiren echoed, and despite his best efforts he felt some dissatisfaction. Beyond the resentment he bore him on account of their mother’s death, his brother had never really paid him all that much attention; Lan Qiren had been assured by several of his teachers that he was merely imagining how much his brother didn’t like him, or at least that the irritation would pass as he got older and more accomplished, less of an embarrassment. Most of the time, his brother’s gaze was turned inside to himself and his own cultivation efforts just like their father before him, so it made sense for him not to know too much about Lan Qiren, but…still. It wasn’t exactly like Lan Qiren was a known troublemaker that needed to be taken aside and especially warned to be on his best behavior.

He idolized his brother, Lan Qiren reminded himself. Just like everyone else. It was only the itchy emotionality of adolescence that was causing him such frustration.

“You understand what you did wrong, then, and will not repeat it.”

“…what I did wrong?” Lan Qiren ground his teeth together, realized he was doing it, and stopped at once. No one else had ever said he had done something wrong during that discussion conference, but perhaps they were only being polite. “Xiongzhang, I am too ignorant, and do not understand. Please tell me what you mean.”

His brother looked at him sidelong. “In connection with Sect Leader Wen.”

“Xiongzhang! I didn’t –”

“You are old enough now to understand how dangerous he is,” his brother said, cutting him off, and Lan Qiren fell silent, because that much was true. When he’d been thirteen and even more single-minded than he was today (and truly, how could he condemn his brother’s disinterest in so many things when he himself was similarly focused on his own interests?), he had been ignorant of the rumors that swirled around Wen Ruohan. It was said that beneath his seemingly composed countenance, he could be violent and moody, impulsive and selfish and cruel – how he had to have the best of everything for himself, and would stop at nothing to obtain whatever it was, no matter who it harmed. And then there were the stories of his mysterious Fire Palace, where he was said to collect implements of torture and to enjoy sating his bloodlust by practicing them upon those unfortunate enough to be his prisoners –

How much of that was true and how much merely rumor, Lan Qiren did not know, but he knew that it was well-accepted enough to be considered news rather than frivolous gossip.

"Yes, xiongzhang," he muttered, and dropped his eyes to the ground. "I know."

"This isn't like last time. We're going to be in the Nightless City, on his ground, not ours - you're not adept at politics, so you might not know it, but Sect Leader Wen's arrogance is beyond belief; he only sometimes considers himself to be bound by the laws and customs of the cultivation world, not like the rest of us. If something happens, I won't be able to protect you."

Lan Qiren nodded. He appreciated his brother's concern for him.

"Try to avoid him entirely," his brother instructed. "And if you do end up seeing him, don't pester him this time! Think beyond yourself: our sect cannot afford to draw his ire, if it turns out that he does not find you as amusing as he did before.”

It hadn’t been Lan Qiren’s fault that Wen Ruohan had found him amusing the first time. It wasn’t like he intended on spending time with the man – it had just happened!

“And what if he approaches me?” Lan Qiren asked, more to be contrary than out of any actual belief it would really happen. Wen Ruohan had seen him as a tool to needle his brother, nothing more, and had probably put him out of his mind long ago - it'd been three years, after all, and Lan Qiren was very young still; if it hadn't been for the Wen sect's selection of music as a main event, he probably wouldn't be going along at all.

“If he starts speaking with you, then you are to respond gracefully, and comply with his wishes until such time as someone can come to collect you.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “Are you sure?"

His brother stopped and frowned at him.

"I just mean, we've met in person before," Lan Qiren explained. "He won't mistake me for a servant; he'll know who I am. And the Great Sects are all equal, so isn't there a chance that we might lose face if one of our main bloodline yields to everything he wants at first request, as if we were some nameless clan beneath his…”

“Are you questioning me?”

Lan Qiren faltered. “No, xiongzhang.”

“I don’t want anything disturbing the discussion conference,” his brother said, his gaze already sliding away and his fists tight at his sides. Lan Qiren thought over his words and was ashamed of himself: he shouldn't have reminded his brother that he was part of the main bloodline, same as him; he knew it was a painful subject for his brother, and to bring it up anyway probably came across as arrogant and tactless. “I am acting as leader for this trip, and the responsibility for everything that happens is mine. Do not make me lose face. Do you understand?”

“Yes, xiongzhang. I won’t lose face for the sect.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #qingheng-jun #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

Learning Styles - [Reid x Reader]

Summary: Reader has worked hard to get to the FBI, but a misunderstanding has her feeling insecure.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader

Word��Count: 2.5k

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG

Content Warning: Mention of normal criminal minds stuff briefly.

A/n: I got these two requests and they were so similar I decided to combine them. I hope that’s okay, but I feel like the stories would have been almost identical.

Requests: - I have a fic suggestion. Reader pretends to be dumb but is actually really smart. I’m thinking of that quote about marilyn ”you have to be really smart to pretend to be dumb”. One day spencer realizes that reader is smarter than she lets people know.

- Hi! Can I request a spencer reid x reader fic where reader isn't great with numbers but brilliant with behaviour and humanities (i.e. literature, history, sociology, up to you)? Maybe a dash of insecurity to spice things up?

-- Learning Styles --

My favorite professor in college told me that everyone learns differently; what works for one person won’t work in the same way for another. We are all different human beings that are shaped in different ways.

I had always been oddly insecure about my intelligence level. One of my earliest memories was my mother yelling at me while I sat at the kitchen table when I was in first grade. I was the only kid in my class who still hadn’t learned how to read. I just didn’t understand. All of my friends were progressing so much quicker than me and my mother was losing patience.

It wasn’t until my grandmother stepped in that everything changed. My elementary school teacher was training children to read by memorizing sight words, a concept I didn’t understand. When my grandmother sat down and taught me phonics. I distinctly remember everything snapping into place.

I was in 1st grade and reading at a 7th-grade level by Christmas. Once I finally understood my learning style, I really began to thrive.

But no matter what I did, I could still hear my mother yelling at me, telling me I was stupid.

In my line of work, I see just how much the throw away comments that parents make can shape a child’s development. Luckily, those comments just made me a bit insecure, not a murderer.

Up until I was 22, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do beyond this desire I had to help people. SSA David Rossi had come to guest lecture in one of my abnormal psych classes during undergrad. After I heard him speak, I was done. I couldn’t have done anything else with my life. I had obtained my master’s in psychology before I joined the FBI.

It took some time, but I was finally assigned to the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico. I was so excited on my first day that I remember my hands physically shaking.

Until they weren’t.

I can still remember my first day so clearly. SSA Hotchner had introduced me to the team, saving the “best” for last.

“And this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he had said. “He’s our expert on…well, everything.”

Reid was my age and he had his Ph.D. I remember feeling awed by him.

Until I didn’t.

"I hold 3 Ph.D.'s in Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics. I also have BAs in psychology and sociology."

I remember my jaw almost hitting the floor. While I was impressed by him, I wasn’t insecure about my place on the team.

Until I was.

My grandmother may have helped me master reading, which opened the door to me mastering anything else I put my mind to…except math.

I was fine at statistics, luckily. You couldn’t get a psych degree without a ton of statistics work. But statistics was different, I could see the practical use of statistics. I just couldn’t wrap my head around calculus or algebra.

On my first case with the team, Reid had calculated some insane mathematical equations on the whiteboard, running down the probabilities and applying a mathematical formula to the unsub’s behavior.

It wasn't until later, after the case was solved when I was standing in front of the whiteboard that my confidence was hit. Reid had come into the room and saw me looking at his work.

“Don’t bother trying to understand it,” he had said. “You’d have to be a genius to understand what I do.”

I didn’t have a word to describe the feeling that settled in my stomach at his words, I wasn’t sure such a word existed. The feeling was cold and heavy, but also made my body burn with shame.

I had just offered him a tight smile before I left the room.

On the plane home I had made a decision. I was no match for Dr. Reid, I doubt anyone was. So, I would take myself out of the competition. I couldn’t get hurt if I wasn’t playing the game.

And that is how the next year of my life went. I allowed Dr. Reid to explain things to me that I was an expert in, never saying a word. I acted like I didn't understand concepts that I had written papers on. The only thing I didn't dumb down was my profiling skills. Those were necessary for my job and for saving lives.

I don’t think anyone realized what I was doing.

Until they did.

The team had been called to Colorado to assist in capturing a serial rapist.

All of our cases bothered me, every last one…but something about ones with this vile element really struck me.

We had the unsub’s name, Tyler Childress. He had spent time in prison for sexual assault and burglary. It seems while he was in prison, he spent time perfecting his methods; it was only by pure luck that we found his fingerprint inside the victim’s house, making him the main suspect.

When we paid Mr. Childress a visit, he had managed to get the drop on Prentiss and Morgan, allowing them to escape. Morgan was furious.

All of us were sitting around a conference table in the local prescient while we let Dr. Reid talk.

I was trying to be calm, I was, but my nails were digging into my palm so deeply I was worried I was about to draw blood.

“Guys,” the expert on everything said. “He has to have some sort of accomplice.”

Rossi just sighed. “But the profile doesn’t point to him being the sort to do well with others; he’s a narcissist.”

Reid wouldn’t budge. “I know that, but he isn’t intelligent enough to pull this off alone. He’s just not. He had an IQ test done when he was 20. He scored in the mentally handicapped range. I’m telling you he has to have help.”

“Are you sure, Reid?” Hotch asked.

“Positive. I have his results right here.”

“IQ tests aren’t a good measure of intelligence on their own.”

I was so startled that someone had contradicted Dr. Reid that it took me a second to realize it was me who had contradicted him.

He turned to face me; his brown eyes wide. “What?”

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “IQ tests aren’t a good measure of intelligence.”

Dr. Reid laughed. He laughed at me like my comment was funny. “I don’t know where you heard that,” he began.

But I interrupted him. "IQ tests are classist and oftentimes racist. The man who invented the IQ test never intended for it to be used as a complete measure of intelligence. He regretted making the test.”

Reid sputtered. “You…it’s not racist!”

“Yes. It. Is.” I ground out. “If it wasn’t it wouldn’t be illegal to administer an IQ test to a black child in the state of California.”

"Wait, it's illegal to do that?" JJ asked, her brows drawn together.

"Yes. There was a court case in the 1970s over it. Teachers were using tests to separate white children from black children. The black children were put into special education classes they didn’t need to be in. Just because the teachers didn’t want those children in their classrooms.”

I should have stopped, but I was on a role. “They’re also inherently classist. How can you expect a child to answer a question about Romeo and Juliet if they haven’t heard of it?”

That had Dr. Reid scoffing. “Everyone has heard of it.”

I shot to my feet, unable to hold back anymore. “No, they haven’t. Children in underfunded schools that don’t have access to resources might not have heard about the most famous play in history because their school wasn’t able to provide the materials to teach them about it. There was a study done in a remote part of Russia right after the IQ test was invented. Every. Single. Person. Scored in the mentally handicapped range. Because they didn’t understand.”

I knew my voice was rising but I couldn’t stop myself. “Once the researcher took the questions and applied them to things they understood, they all scored as above average. They didn’t understand math as an abstract concept, but they understood it when it was applied to their businesses, to something they actually knew about.”

I cleared my throat. “The test isn’t fair, it’s not equal. Tyler Childress didn’t go to a good school and he didn’t have a stable home life. You can’t use one measure to calculate his intelligence. He’s gotten away with 7 assaults so far that we know of. He’s not stupid.”

The entire room was silent once I had stopped speaking. I couldn’t bring myself to regret it though. What kind of person was I if I played dumb because I was afraid of being mocked when a monster was out there attacking women? No, those women deserved to have me at my best.

And I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t give it to them.

Rossi spoke first, his eyes twinkling when he looked at me. “Took you long enough,” he said. “But y/n is right. We trust the profile; we don’t let personal bias cloud the way. That’s how we catch this bastard.”

Later that day, we were cleaning up the conference room while the local police processed Tyler Childress.

Pathological narcissism is a complex disorder, but we followed the profile and Rossi was right. Hotch set up a press conference in which JJ and Prentiss took center stage. They tore Childress’s ego to shreds on live television.

His narcissism wouldn’t allow that to slide. He got angry, he made a mistake, and we got him before anyone else got hurt.

While the cat was out of the bag about my intelligence and that made me nervous, I couldn't regret any of it. I got to be the one to tell our last victim that we got him. I got to hug her while she cried because now that he was locked up, she felt like her healing could begin. I wasn’t sure if my rant about structural racism and the classism of IQ tests actually helped anything, but that didn’t really matter. There was one less monster in the shadows.

Today was a good day.

I was alone in the conference room, untacking photos from the evidence board when I heard someone clear their throat from behind me. I turned my head to meet the wide, honey brown eyes of Dr. Spencer Reid.

Oh boy, I thought. “What’s up, Reid?”

He shifted from foot to foot, his hands twisting in front of him before he crossed his arms over his chest. “I asked Garcia to look into you.”

My eyebrows drew together. “I’m pretty sure any nefarious things I had done would have popped up on my initial background check.”

“Right, I didn’t mean like that,” he mumbled, the apples of his cheeks turning pink. “I asked her to look into you academically.”

Shit.

He went on. “You double majored in psychology and sociology before you got a master’s in cultural psychology. She pulled your thesis. I just read it.”

“I see.” I turned my attention back to the board.

“You also guest lecture on cross-cultural psychology at Georgetown several times a year. And you’ve co-authored two papers since I’ve known you.”

Meh, it’s three. But that doesn’t matter. “Did you read those too?”

I took his silence as confirmation.

He was so quiet I almost thought he had left, but the crackle of energy I felt in the air told me he hadn’t. “Do you need something, Dr. Reid?”

"Why didn't you get your Ph.D.?"

I had answered that question many, many times. “I didn’t need a doctorate to do what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to waste time. Once I figured out what I wanted, I charged at it.” Which was a far more honest answer than most people got about that from me.

“W-why did you pretend to be dumb?” he rasped out, causing me to look back at him. “32 days ago, you let me explain the long-term effects of gerrymandering and the complex causes of poverty.”

“Of course, I did,” I said, frowning. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“One of the papers you authored was about generational poverty.”

“Just because I know a lot about something doesn’t mean I can stop listening to information. That sort of thinking breeds ignorance.” I smiled, unable to not tease him just a little bit.

Reid took a step closer to me. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I just shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t have a good answer.”

In all the months I had known him, Spencer Reid had never touched me, not even so much as a finger brushing against mine when he handed me something. That fact is why I was so startled when I felt his hand on my upper arm, turning me towards him.

He licked his lips, his eyes darting around. “Did everyone else know?”

I shook my head, my teasing mood long gone. "No. I mean, clearly, Rossi suspected but…No, I didn't tell anyone else."

“I just don’t understand. You’re brilliant.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m not. I’m decent a psychology, sociology, stuff like that. I can’t apply math to behavior to find patterns. I can’t even calculate how much something is gonna cost when it’s on sale without a calculator half the time.”

‘What do you…” Reid trailed off. “Wait. The very first case. You were looking at the evidence board.”

Goddamn eidetic memory.

The boy wonder was on a roll now. “I told you that you’d have to…is that why you didn’t tell me?”

What else could I do? I just nodded.

Those brown eyes closed, and he let out a groan. “I said that because I thought you were going to…I was worried…” He huffed out a breath and opened his eyes. “I wanted you to like me. I didn’t want you to think I was just a nerd.”

Now I was confused. “Why?”

Spencer Reid’s blush went all the way down his neck. “Well…I just…Morgan said I should just talk to you. But I’m not…I’m not good at that. I panic, then I start to ramble. Like I’m doing now…”

“Reid,” I interrupted. “I’m not playing dumb now. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I like you,” he blurted out right before he smacked both of his hands over his face. “Oh my god. I sound like a child.” I thought I heard him mutter idiot under his breath. “Emily says that my IQ gets slashed to 60 whenever I see a pretty girl.”

Much like that moment all those years ago when I was a child, I felt everything click into place. Oh.

I couldn't suppress my smile any longer. I rose up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Well, we've already gone over how IQ tests aren't a good measure of overall intelligence."

With that, I quickly stepped away and hurried out of the conference room, leaving a stunned genius in my wake. When I turned back to look at him, I saw his fingers brushing over the place where my lips had just been.

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#Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fan Fiction #Spencer Reid fan fiction #Spencer Reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer read x y/n #Dr. Spencer reid #dr. reid

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 12, 2021: Jason and the Argonauts (1963) (Part One)

I am so goddamn excited for this one.

Back to Greek mythology, my first mythological love! And not just Greek mythology, because this...THIS...this is the first true Avengers story. Oh, yeah, like The Avengers.

After all, mythology produced the first equivalent of our modern superheroes, with demigods and legends that wield fantastic abilities and powerful items to fight the forces of evil. I mean, it’s the most superhero thing I can think of, and it’s literally a story as old as time. Fact of the matter is, I love superheroes, and I love mythology. Which is why I’m excited to finally see an adaptation of one of the biggest superhero team-up stories ever: Jason and the Argonauts!

See, it all starts with Hera, queen of the Olympians and petty as FUCK.

See, the newly (and wrongfully) ascended king of Iolcus, Pelias, honored the gods after stealing the throne from his brother. Well, all of the gods except Hera. So, Hera, rightfully pissed off, decides to fuck Pelias over by recruiting his nephew, Jason. Jason’s a naturally hot blonde kid who was raised by the centaur Chiron, also making him wise...theoretically.

Hera tests this kid, and he passes, so she gives him her favor, and tells him to fuck up his uncle. Jason arrives in Iolcus, and demands the throne from Pelias. His uncle agrees, IF he can bring back the Golden Fleece, a legendary treasure that is guarded by a vicious monster and a zealous king. Pelias didn’t think Jason had any chance, but Jason had the gods on his side. They sent their best subjects to his aid, and Jason procured an awesome ship, the Argo. So, who’s coming to help? Oh, you ready for this? ARGONAUTS ASSEMBLE

Now there are anywhere between 46-85 heroes that are assembled in the Argonauts, with different members in different iterations of the myth. But the big members are:

Heracles, son of Zeus, with the strength of a thousand men

Orpheus, son of the muse Calliope, and master musician

Calais and Zetes, sons of the North Wind, with the ability to fly upon it

Atalanta, the swift-footed huntress, and only female member

Castor and Pollux, twin half-brothers (yeah, really) and horse-riders

Theseus, son of Poseidon, and slayer of the Minotaur

Tip of the iceberg there, but you get the point: we’ve got a superhero team on our hands! And these heroes would perform MANY great deeds on their journey to the Fleece. They fought the Harpies to defend an oracle, they passed the dangerous Clashing Rocks, they battled the Stymphalian Birds, with feathers of metal. Sirens, fire-breathing bulls, and a giant bronze man named Talos.

Different one. Eventually, they procured the Golden Fleece on the island of Colchis, where they fought a dragon with a help of the young sorceress (and niece of Circe), Medea. She fell in love with Jason, and the two fled the island, married, and had twins. Only for Medea to reveal herself as a stone-cold sociopath, and only for Jason to ditch her for another woman. That goes...VERY badly for Jason. Breaking off his marriage pisses off Hera, THE GODDESS OF MARRIAGE, and he dies sad and alone after Medea does...Medea does a lot, I’ll just leave it at that. Jason, completely fucked at that point, takes a nap at the foot of the now rotting Argo, which collapses on top of him and kills him.

For the record, I truncated that story A LOT. There’s a lot to it, but I have a movie to watch, goddamit! And I’m really excited because this is my first Harryhausen movie! You know, Ray Harryhausen, one of the early greats of practical special effects in film? A specialist in stop-motion from its earliest days, he revolutionizes the art throughout films in the 1950s and 1960s, with this one being one of the most successful. You’ve definitely seen his influence, from stuff that he’s done directly...

...to those inspired by him and his methodology...

...to the arts that were descended indirectly from his groundbreaking effects.

Oh yeah, I’m fucking GOING THERE. Fun fact: Ray Winston Studios, a stop-motion group active during the ‘80s and ‘90s, and a descendant of Harryhausen’s works, were originally going to do the animation for the dinosaurs in this movie, in Claymation. However, the recent advent of advanced animatronics, alongside ILM’s founding, caused them to take some of those principles, and apply them to CGI and animatronics. So, yeah, I’m claiming an indirect connection here!

Anyway, enough being a nerd, LET’S WATCH THE GODDAMN MOVIE! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

As the bombastic and epic score plays, the credits role of a Greek-style fresco, detailing the various adventures of the Argonauts. And before the movie starts, I come to a realization: there is a high chance that I’m going to hate this movie’s inaccuracies to Greek mythology. It’s not impossible. I’m real persnickety about my mythology adaptations, just warning you all now. I’ll probably get into it in this Recap, too. Full goddamn warning.

We begin with a seer, reading the future for the treacherous Pelias (Douglas Witmer). He sees first a Golden Fleece at the end of the world, but Pelias ignores this, and asks of his upcoming conquest of the kingdom of...Thessaly. Not, uh...not Iolcus. Mmmkay.

The seer fortells that Pelias will seize the throne, by force, from his brother and the king of Thessaly...Aristo...not Aeson. OK then. The seer says that he will be successful, but will eventually fall to one of Aristo’s kids, who will take his throne. He has two daughters, Philomena and Briseis, and one son, Jason. Looks like they’re gonna die, too.

The invasion begins! Amongst the chaos, Briseis (Davina Taylor) takes her baby sister, Philomena, into the temple of Hera, and pleads to her for her protection. However, they’re found by Pelias, who asks who she is. He’s interrupted by a priestess of Hera, who claims that the Queen Goddess has answered the girl’s prayer for protection.

Pelias responds in kind.

Well...I’m sure that’s gonna piss off Hera. He claims it to be the will of Zeus, but she states that it is his will, not Zeus’. The gods have abandoned him, and he will one day fall to a one-sandaled man, Jason. And as the woman reveals this...she disappears. Nice. FUCKIN’ NICE.

This “priestess” is Hera (Honor Blackman), of course. She goes to her husband, Zeus (Niall MacGinnis), and asks if he ordered Pelias to destroy and profane her temple. He says no, as that was Pelias’ attempt to stave off his inevitable fall by Jason. However, Jason has escaped Pelias’ wrath, as has his sister Philomena. Hera decided, however, that she wants to take down Pelias, and Jason is the best was for that to happen. Hence, she wishes to sponsor Jason.

However, Zeus, being the classic misogynist, says that he will allow it, but she may only help Jason 5 times, once for each time that the fallen Briseis prayed to her. She agrees, and waits 20 years to start fuckin’ with Pelias. Pelias, meanwhile, is growing more paranoid over the one-sandaled man prophecy that Hera gave him.

One day, on the bank of a river, Hera appears to make Pelias fall off of his horse into the river. He’s saved from drowning by a young man, who loses his sandal in the process. This is, of course, Jason (Todd Armstrong), who was already on his way to see Pelias for some reason.

For the record, this is an adaptation of the original story, in which Hera disguises herself as an old beggar-woman, and Jason proves himself to her by helping her across the river, after which she gives him her favor. To be honest, I like this a bit more, or at least as much.

Pelias brings Jason back to a camp for a celebration, with him as an honored guest. Jason reveals exactly who he is, and that he was raised outside of the city by one of his father’s loyal soldiers. He has come to reclaim his right place as king of Thessaly, and to restore it to it’s rightful glory. However, Pelias hasn’t revealed himself as king, and asks Jason how he plans to accomplish these feats. Jason replies with his ultimate plan: obtain the Golden Fleece.

Here’s the deal about the Golden Fleece. One of the most legendary items in Greek mythology, the fleece is essentially a symbol of royalty, and is the coat of a ram with wings found on the island of Colchis. Now, the meaning of the fleece has long been debated, with the main consensus stating that it’s a symbol of royalty. However, some claim that it’s a symbol of prosperous farming (golden grains of wheat), the forgiveness of the gods for some unknown deed, Zeus in the form of a ram, or simply the promise of the unknown at the edge of the world.

What it DEFINITELY ISN’T is a magical healing garment, as Jason claims it to be. But OK, whatever, we need a good reason to get the Fleece, sure. Pelias, not revealing himself, says that Jason should try to get the Fleece, with a boat and a crew, and bring it back to Thessaly, returning and killing Pelias in order to take the throne. Of course, Pelias thinks that this is impossible, which he says to his son Acastus (Gary Raymond). He also knows that if he kills Jason, he it will mean his own destruction, as Hera told him.

Jason goes to ponder this journey, only to encounter the seer. The seer asks if he has come to pray to the gods, to which Jason states that he doesn’t believe in them, nor does he have cause to. The seer offers to give him that cause, and reveals himself as Hermes (Michael Gwynn), the swift-footed messenger god, god of medicine, and trickster god of the Olympians.

Hermes isn’t usually directly involved in the myths of Jason, but that’s OK. He also does something particularly unusual, and brings Jason TO Olympus to meet the Gods themselves. Which, uh...yeah, hot damn. Zeus and the rest arranged for Hermes to bring Jason to them. They ask how they can help him on his quest. Zeus offers him a ship and crew, but Jason refuses, much to the gall of EVERYBODY.

Hera helps him by telling him where to find the Golden Fleece: the island of Colchis, at the other end of the world. To get there, though, Jason’ll DEFINITELY need a ship. He decides to go to the shipbuilders of Greece, and tell them that great treasure lies on Colchis, and they may receive some for their aid. As for the crew, he’s got a similar tactic. Offer the reward to the athletes and heroes of Greece, who will compete in games to determine their eligibility.

Not from the original myths...but it actually makes a lot of sense. Goddamn, is this going to be a good adaptation? I’m excited! The games are held, and many athletes win their place on the journey. They include: Castor and Pollux (Ferdinando Poggi and John Crawford), Acastus, and of course, Heracles (Nigel Green). And yeah, he’s called Hercules here, but I don’t care.

When Hercules arrives, this grabs the attention of the young Hylas (John Caimey), who arrived to late to compete in the games. He challenges Heracles to something, believing that beating Heracles in something will guarantee him a place on the ship.

While everyone mocks this, Heracles agrees to go up against him in a discus-throwing contest. They must hit or pass a rock in the ocean by throwing their discus. Heracles hits it easily, of course. And the frail Hylas...

...Nice. Did not see that coming, and that’s actually very smart. Also takes a lot of skill, because I could NOT do that. Hylas wins his place in the ship, to the delight of both the crowd and the Olympians. And yes, Hylas actually is a companion of Heracles in the original stories, so that’s neat!

Now for the boat, being built by master builder Argus (Laurence Naismith), who is coming on the ship with them. He notes that something appears to have guided his hand during the ship’s construction. In the original myth, that would be Athena. However, here, it’s probably Hera, as the figurehead is specifically carved in her image. And is also...alive?

Well...to be fair, in many myths, the ship contains wood built from a magical tree that could speak, and see the future. So, OK, magic ship, fair enough. Well, hopefully, that ship’s guidance will happen soon, as the voyage immediately proves difficult. No water, no rest, and frustrated men.

Jason asks the figurehead for help (which would be help #3) and Hera speaks through it to tell Jason to head to the Isle of Bronze, where Hephaestus once had his forge. However, the island is lorded over by a powerful something called Talos. I know what Talos is, but the movie hasn’t revealed him yet.

The Argo makes its way to the island, and the men head ashore to get food and water. They see goats there, which will provide them both food and drink, and Heracles and Hylas chase after them for just that aim. And that’s when they blunder into a giant bronze statuary, lorded over by the statue of Talos.

The two enter a chamber in the statue’s base, which is filled to the brim with gold and treasure. However, Jason warned the men of the Argo not to take anything from the island but food and water. Hylas remembers this, but Heracles doesn’t care, and takes a golden staff from the chamber. And Talos...Talos doesn’t appreciate that.

Oh, that’s a great place to take a break! See you in Part Two!

#Jason and the Argonauts #don chaffey #ray harryhausen #todd armstrong #nancy kovack #honor blackman #gary raymond #laurence naismith #greek mythology #argonauts #argonautica #apollonius rhodius #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #movie recap

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crowleystolemyshoes · 3 years

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alright I took the ap stats test this year, and a few hours after completing the exam I wrote up a list of important things to study before taking it yourself. I was going to wait until next year to post it, but I realized some people are still going to take it maybe?

note that I won't get my score for another month, so I can't exactly back this up BUT here ya go

know the inferences. you'll have the long part of the formula, but you need to know to take p-hat plus or minus that long part (as an example with a one-sample z interval)

"long parts" that are given on the formula sheet:

(I'm not going to add alt text, just because stats formulas are so confusing to describe without symbols, but please let me know in the notes or dm me if you need me to--I'll send links to pages with the formulas or something. we'll figure it out 👍)

you have to know what to do with these to get each formula. the first thing I did when I opened each booklet was wrote extra formulas for each inference test: one- and two-sample z- and t-intervals and tests (eight formulas when I was done)

remember that the t-table is for confidence intervals and the z-table is for p-values (you will have to use the t-table for z-intervals and the z-table for t-tests) (note--the actual difference is that the z-table assumes you know the population standard deviation, where the t-table uses a sample's SD. The z-table is therefore used with an assumed null hypothesis, i.e. z- and t- tests, while the t-table applies to z- and t- intervals without a null hypothesis). The table is in the back of the booklet for the multiple choice, and it does say "stop" at the bottom of the last question. you are allowed to flip past to the tables.

hypotheses for proportions (z inferences) use p = __ ; mean hypotheses (t inferences) use mu (the weird "u" looking thing; mean of the whole population). do not put x-bar; that applies to the mean of a sample and not population.

also know what your p-value means: it's the probability of obtaining the data you used in the calculation (or more extreme--don't forget "or more extreme") assuming the null hypothesis is true

write out your conditions and show them being met. even write that 60 is greater than or equal to 30 if n=60 and you need to prove that it's an approximately normal distribution (note approximately and not exactly)

put your conclusion in context. mention what's being tested, not just numbers

type I and type II errors are something you'll want to put some time into--they were on both my 2021 exam and the 2012 one ap released as a practice. you'll also want to know the chances of each one happening (one is the significance level used and the other is some weird formula, and I don't remember which is which)

type I error: reject the null hypothesis when you shouldn't have

type II error: fail to reject the null hypothesis when you should have ("fail II reject")

- on that note, never accept the null hypothesis when writing conclusions, just fail to reject it

regression lines and "model error" came up and I had no clue about either. I still have no clue if "model error" is even a statistics thing. neither were in my free response section, thank fuck, but regression lines and that number summary thing your calculator gives you was in the free response for 2012, unless I'm mistaken

chi-tests came up twice on my test: on one multiple choice it was asking what test was appropriate with the given circumstances, and a chi goodness of fit test was an option. the second time was in the final free response question, and it was the chi-test about correlation between two variables. I got lucky, because it didn't actually want me to run one and I could bullshit my way through the question, but make sure you know them. put z- and t- inference tests at a higher priority, though

one of my free response questions was entirely free of calculations; it wanted me to explain the purpose of placebos, the importance of random sampling and assignment, etc. I think I got lucky again there, but make sure you have a firm understanding of experimentation procedure

you'll probably be fine without worrying about probabilities of events and compliments and independent v. dependent events and everything (PA, PB, PA union B, those things). they were a free-response on mine and I drew a flow chart and had no issue whatsoever, it was really simple. this one probably shouldn't be a priority unless it's something you personally struggle with

spend a bit of time with transforming data. ex: mean 1 foot, sd .5 foot --> mean 12 in, sd 6 in

last but far from least:

it's an ap test. for the free response, it's always better to over-explain than under-explain. it doesn't have to be readable; don't worry about repeated words or anything. just put as much on there as you can, and something should stick.

#ap tests #ap stats #math!!#uhhh how to tag this bitch #education #?? I guess??#how to bullshit an exam for a subject you took entirely online from september to january #when your entire amount of studying is three hours the night before the test #idk bro shit is wild #long post #but it's worth it because college board is a fucker

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inviouswriting · 3 years

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Lich’s Puppet AU

It goes without saying this one is going to be a bit darker.

Mentions - @snow-covered-moon ‘s Shuri and polyship with her.

Warnings: I won’t cut these ones because there are some themes here. Mostly forced to drink something, and paralysis, mind control, and body modifications.

Perhaps she was careless, she tends to think she can’t be harmed, yet she still has weaknesses. She is a spirit, and a spirit can still be lured under greater magic to be enslaved. She had thought she had great immunity, that nothing would control her the way Vanth did.

Yet she can’t remember the last time she couldn’t control herself. While conscious of everything she is doing. She knew better than to leave Vanth unchecked, the necromancy in Tam-Tara should have warned her of a presence. That the worse of her nightmares to come again was happening.

His magic still has deep roots within her, there will always be that stain in her as much as her right wing. Her entire body is on fire, it feels like acid slowly eating away at her, the flames of the undead were something she hated. They burned the very soul and scarred it. Her eyes and hair matched the form Vanth wanted.

Skin almost greenish to her brown, lime green eyes and white hair. She isn’t even sure how she was snared. All she remembered was going on another mission for the scions. To check a tower in Coerthas, she could get close without alerting others. Or so she thought.

She had been chased down by a lunar Garuda. She knew the primal was fast, but given the alterations, the lunar alone caught up to her in no time. Kivera looked away from in front of her, till she flew pass the threshold of a tower. She had never been inside them, she felt dread from being in vicinity. Like Vanth’s magic scared her years ago.

Inside she had seen Ixal trapped to the walls, being used to empower the lunar primal. She keeps her feet from the ground, seeing it as fleshy matter more than an actual ground. She likens it to one of Vanth’s creations. Every part of her screams to leave, but she couldn’t with her exit closed.

“What a surprise. Who would have thought you would be here.” Kivera freezes down to her spine, her feathers stand on end, bristling at the voice. She knows this voice, deep, hollow and raspy. It does the same thing regardless in chilling her to her soul.

“What are you doing here...” She keeps her hover even more for fear of what would happen if her feet connect with the ground. She had forgotten about Garuda, it seems the primal disappeared from her entirely, or was laying in wait. She was no longer her worry. What was, is the lich who she had thought she rendered deep in the pit she had made. The furthest deep of Tartarus that she had named it Agitazione, land of the unsuffering dead.

“Why are you so surprised, you knew you can’t kill me. Even with your awakening. Not even the power you command from above could do anything. I will always come back. It took a bit of time... you left me in ashes.” Kivera turns to see the being. Vanth. He had taken a form that allowed him to blend in with others. An older elezen, with graying hair. He looked like a holy man, but Kivera knew him as far from that. What he did was horrid to both heavens and underworld.

He enslaved the dead as puppets. He led the slaughter on hundreds if not thousands of women and men during the Salem trials, one that she remembers as her first cleanse to end an entire city. She couldn’t touch the souls after Vanth took over their minds. Thanatos had instructed her, nothing good comes from a necromancer, and they did not want the souls tainted by a lich. They could not rest, nor would they ever. They chose blood magic and a great taboo together. Raising the dead is an unforgiveable sin among the underworld, tied in with enslaving the spirits was something that she was specifically trained to take out without hesitation.

Vanth was the reason she had lost two dear to her. Divinity at first when she was human, then Damien. Kivera realizes how in over her head she is. Yet she knows her loved ones, and the allies she has gained would not be able to fight someone like him. Not yet, Kan-E-Senna could, she was blessed in holy and light.

Kivera was not either of those, and she could feel her nerves on fire the longer she is lingering. In her shock she fails to notice the fleshy tendrils that creep up seeking aether energy. Kivera being full of it. All the bits had to do was connect with skin and start leeching her. How lucky would Garlean be if they score her as an ally. A powerful destructive force would raze everything. Vanth knows this, he always knew of her location, she is still a creature of habit, she clings to those that show her love.

Kivera remembers herself, and looks down to see the floor moving, arcing up towards her feet. The ends resembling a swarm of worms, making the reaper feel sick at seeing them move like this. She moves higher, and it is there that Garuda shows herself slamming full force into Kivera from the side, sending her into the nearest wall.

Kivera is fast to rebound but the walls have that same fleshy material. When she connects many tendrils surge to coil around an arm. Kivera burns them off and kicks her feet on the wall to get away from the, rubbing the others off her arms as they break apart.

Vanth just stands back to watch, keeping his control on the matter around. The imprisoned ixal reach to grab Kivera whenever she was close. The reaper not having a place to stand or rest without something trying to snare her. It will take one careless mistake on her part. One moment of weakness. Something Vanth knows every being to have. He just had to figure out where she will land to think she is safe.

Kivera fights more with Garuda, sending bursts of fire, while Garuda sends wind. They scrap together, talons and claws ripping at feathers, Kivera burning wings and biting her. Garuda using her feet and claws to grasp her target. She snares Kivera and soon pins her to a wall.

Vanth sees his chance, and swarms the tendrils onto Kivera. Each touched with a bright lime flame. Kivera feels something she hasn’t felt in ages. Pain. Pure pain. The tendrils leech life while replacing with lich flames. The color in her skin greenish but stays brown, the black of her hair turns white, and her eyes that convey her emotions stays a pure bright lime color with a glow to them. She looked the same but altered in her appearance.

Kivera couldn’t scream with the claw around her neck keeping her still. All she could even think was sparing those she loves. She rends her connection to Shuri, Estinien, Divinity and any of the children. Scions, she will never forgive them for sending her on this mission.

Vanth claps and Garuda lets Kivera down, he tests something snapping his fingers for Kivera to raise her arms. She does, there is a look of horror to her eyes at being controlled. Vanth approaches her and lifts her head. The elezen face he had chosen gives a sneer at such a prize he obtained.

“There we are. What should have happened all those years ago. If only Damien was more compliant, you could have had both, him and this life.” Kivera only glares at him, her face the only thing she has control of. Garuda leaves disappearing now that the threat is over.

Vanth circles around Kivera keeping her standing straight, he notes her glaring. He needs her more compliant. Two ixals approach Kivera from behind and take an arm while Vanth gets her to kneel down. Ignoring the hissing under her breath. She doesn’t take her eyes off of Vanth, unsure of what he is planning to do. He fishes an elixir like bottle off a belt he has, one he has safeguarded for the rare occasion he captured Kivera.

Kivera tightens her mouth knowing the liquid is for her. It is black in color, and she has seen it work once. When he used it on a maid girl back in Salem. It is to control her, it erases the mind, leaving it blank. Kivera is prided in her strong mind, but even she won’t be able to do much if it is in her system. He brewed it specific for her. A catalyst potion.

“This will go smoother if you comply. Not like anyone is going to come save you from this. By the time they even get news of you missing, you are aware they’re use to you going off and doing your own thing. They also know how powerful you are. They wouldn’t think you would be overcome so easy. Yet you did put up quite a fight against Garuda. But it shows even a god slayer like you can still slip up against them.” Vanth raises Kivera’s head, and she attempts to bite him, he uses the opportunity to hook his thumb into her mouth to keep it open.

Quickly he presses the bottle already opened with a flick of the cork off. Kivera wants to turn her head but can’t from his control and the ixal. The liquid burns, like liquid fire in her body, searing from the inside out. With the bottle emptied and cast off to break somewhere. Vanth waits.

He kneels in front of her. He was always a tall man, he might have chosen a roegadyn for their height better. But they didn’t fit the elegance he still holds. And would have raised suspicions. He had been around since Thordan’s end, leading people to follow him from the outskirts of Coerthas, those that disapproved of Aymeric still to the day.

How easy it is to lure people with the idea he can change things back the old way. Even more when he came across Fandaniel, giving him an idea of how to snare Kivera. Earning an ally through the ascian if it meant she would be dealt with.

Kivera feels white hot through her head, like everything she thought and knew was disappearing. It hurt to think, and it pained her to swallow, she tasted that bitter potion and she wanted to drag her tongue across the dirt. Though the only thing available would have been the fleshy floor of the tower. That disgusted her more.

Her last thoughts were to her loved ones. Sending apologies through the links as she burns them, her last chance to make sure they are safe.

“I am sorry... for what I am about to do. I have no choice. Please know... that the being that you will face.. is not me. Kill her.” Her laments to Divinity, she relays the same to Estinien, then too to Shuri. She ends the link before she loses herself, severing them entirely. They will feel it, like a piece of them is ripped out. She can see Divinity collapsing into tears, and the confusion on Estinien and Shuri following Divinity.

Kivera has told them endlessly, that things that a lich touches must be destroyed. That includes. Herself. It means a new cycle of spirits to begin, more tragedies to unfold. Kivera wishes even more that she could have used her former abilities. She lets her last thoughts be of the loved ones.

When she opens her eyes again, she looks up to Vanth. Her voice hollow and echoes in the tower.

“I am at your command.” One final touch to her, a bone wyvern rests on her. A gift but also a symbiote parasite to keep her under his control. Vanth folds his arms.

“Good, I won’t have you attack yet. We need to wait a little bit per Fandaniel’s request for a better opportunity. Now come with me. We have much to do.”

#Lich puppet au #Kivera #shuri fontaye #vanth #original concepts

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botanyshitposts · 4 years

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pls explain the news in laymans terms 😭

okay lads buckle up, this is gonna be a long one. the paper is “A phylogenomic analysis of Nepenthes (Nepenthaceae)” from Murphy et al. i’m gonna link it here, and i encourage anyone interested to read it for themselves and draw their own conclusions, but otherwise i’m gonna give an overview as i understand it.

if you do not want to see 394023 words of in-depth carnivorous plant genetics content you should start scrolling now.

so. Nepenthes is a carnivorous plant family colloquially known as ‘asian pitcher plants’ or ‘monkey cups’. it’s one of the largest carnivorous plant families in the world, and without a doubt one of the most diverse, but we’ll get to that in a minute. these plants have pitchers that fill with fluid and digest bugs alive (important note in terms of nep anatomy 101: unlike venus fly traps or sundews, Nepenthes are passive traps and don’t move or curl up or anything, just sit and watch it all unfold). their range has china and korea on the northern edge, the tip of australia on the southern edge, and most of indonesia, the philippines, and most associated landmasses encompassed between. there are a couple outliers, but for the most part these are jungle plants with a vining growth form that weaves through trees and just….eats.

now, putting aside the fact that they’re carnivorous, one of the biggest points of Nepenthes is their diversity as a family. if anyone out there remembers the term ‘adaptive radiation’ from an intro bio class, Nepenthes is THE family of adaptive radiation. in addition to common species that grow everywhere in their range, these lads can be so specialized that there are species you can only find on single specific ridges on single specific mountains on single specific islands; as you can imagine, this makes them especially vulnerable to climate change, habitat destruction, and poachers.

the most obvious point of diversity here is the pitcher traps themselves: there are hundreds of different pitcher morphologies, ranging from special peristome adaptations to bizzare patterns and colorations to the addition of fang-like structures and symbiosis with bats, ants, and rodents. the list goes on. these lads are so specialized it’s unbelievable. one might think that, in terms of figuring out how these different species are related to each other, that it would be pretty obvious, since everything is so distinctive.

but there is a problem.

they fuck.

Nepenthes as a family is established to be one of the oldest carnivorous plant families, but the 200+ species identified over the years are suspected to be the result of very recent (in evolutionary time) modern radiation. one of the most common definitions of what a ‘species’ is that i see circulated is the idea that something is a species when it can no longer breed with another species, but it’s important to realize that this is one definition of what a ‘species’ is. in the case of Nepenthes, the knowledge that a bunch of scientists have decided they are different does not stop them.

it was hoped, with the advent of DNA testing, that maybe we would be able to assemble a semi-full map of how all these species relate to one another and how they came to be (a phylogenetic tree), but as it turns out the lads fuck so much between themselves and other Nepenthes species that figuring out how they became the species they became, even with DNA, is extremely difficult. ‘breeding complexes’ not too different than what i wrote about in the fern sex triangle post a while back are a very nepenthes-esque thing to have happen.

a quote from the paper:

“These uncertainties are not unique to Nepenthes but various factors make them important in this group: the frequency of natural hybrids and apparent lack of intrinsic reproductive barriers between taxa, the extent of intraspecific morphological variation and the reliance by taxonomists on the pitchers.”

in short, these plants have no control. they are not practicing safe sex. they are living lavishly in their own tropical jungle paradise with as much hedonism as a plant can muster as botanists try to connect how one pitcher might be the evolutionary origin of another while somehow all the pitchers are either functionally the same or radically different.

which brings us to this study. when people compare DNA, they’re rarely comparing the entire genome (although that can be done), but rather they identify a set of consistently mutable genes that are present across an entire subsection of life, and look at just those genes at just their locations on various chromosomes. instead of trying to find a couple genes fit to compare plants across the Nepenthes genus, as past studies did, this study took and applied a set of DNA probes developed previously to compare 353 genes present across the entire subkingdom of flowering plants.

as you can imagine, this provides a significantly larger set of data to work with. sure, it’s not perfect and this take will need more research to confirm (basing the entire Nepenthes phylogenetic tree off of a single study is a dangerous game, especially when things are so saucy in the forest), but it’s significantly better than the results past Nepenthes phylogenetic analyses generated, where researchers were able to see some general outlines and attempted to sort the genus into a few groups, but were ultimately unable to see where species themselves split and what their relations to each other were (you know, because of all the sex).

so. this paper:

-obtained samples from 151 different Nepenthes species from different collectors, herbariums, and conservatories. for those familiar with Nepenthes as a hobby, Andreas Wistuba might ring a bell; he contributed some samples from his plants to this study. otherwise, the KEW botanical gardens is more ubiquitously recognized donor.

-for more common species, more samples were taken from different places to account for different populations.

-another quote from the paper that i think is interesting on multiple levels: “We also include two unpublished species, N. sp. Anipahan and N. sp. taminii. The former, from Palawan, is discussed by McPherson (2011) and may be a synonym of N. leonardoi. The latter is an undescribed species from Sumatra that has been circulating amongst Nepenthes growers and resembles N. rhombicaulis but is perhaps distinguished by its leaves. Also sampled here are N. echinostoma Hook. f., a commonly collected plant usually considered a variant of N. mirabilis, and a sample we liken to N. angustifolia Mast., a species usually considered synonymous with N. gracilis.”

i mentioned earlier that previous molecular analyses done by other people were able to see a general outline but weren’t able to see anything more distinct; the results of this paper for the most part confirm these general outlines, which means that if nothing else we have strong support for the relationship the entire Nepenthes family has to other, more closely related plant families, which the paper resolves in this tree:

note that the above tree describes the family’s relation to various other families, followed by ‘Nepenthes clade 1′ and ‘Nepenthes clade 2′. these two clades contain most of the Nepenthes genus sampled; the six species shown in red, according to the results, are considered sister species to the entire rest of the genus, separate from those two clades.

now, what personally gets me the most excited here is the plant they confirmed as being the sister species to that subsection of sister species, effectively making it the outgroup to like, literally everything else: Nepenthes pervillei, from the republic of seychelles.

yeah. you know back at the beginning of this response when i said there were some exceptions to the Nepenthes habitat range? this would be one of those exceptions. the republic of seychelles is off the coast of africa, closer to madagascar than indonesia. to be fair, there are also Nepenthes along the eastern coast of madagascar, but because Nepenthes is so strongly geographically coordinated (this paper goes on to describe clades literally just named after the countries they’re in) this is pretty goddamn cool. this species got cut off in the middle of the ocean and now looks…….like a Nepenthes, but just off enough to be kind of weird (the biggest thing i realized just…staring at pictures of it is that it doesn’t seem to have wings down the front, which to be fair isn’t required of neps but makes it look super naked as a result). forbidden uncanny valley Nepenthes cast from the fuck zone. i love it.

the other main outgroup species (the sister species to all the ‘typical’ asian species, specifically, aka clades 1 and 2) they identified was Nepenthes danseri, which is native to waigeo island in indonesia (that’s in the fuck zone, for those keeping score at home) and, i would argue, has the same kind of thin-peristomed, simple-ribbed kind of look to it that pervillei has, but it definitely looks more traditionally Nepenthes-like.

now, with that, we really get into the meat of their results here. this is the full phylogenetic tree with all tested species laid out according to their results:

i….have no idea if tumblr will let you zoom in on this pic so im just gonna write down some notes.

the color-coded names on the tree to the right match their respective habitats down in the map on the bottom left, which is neat, but it’s also interesting to see how some of these species have apparently been fucking between islands. i know this is gonna be low-res but look at this swath at the top, some of what they’ve identified as being ‘clade 1′ (mostly common, widespread lowland species):

- man………. i mean, first of all i wanna point out the lone bicalcarata branches at the top #representing, having somehow maintained their chastity despite being the sexiest of the Nepenthes.

- hookeriana being the outgroup for ampullaria seems to fit well by adorable chubbiness factor alone.

- one thing that seems weird but not totally out of character is that halfway down in yellow we see mirabilis in multiple populations in yellow, then down from there a little ways we see different mirabilis populations in green and purple and red, all but N. echinostoma and N. orbiculate, which are both outgroups. i knew it was a common species, but for some reason i wasn’t expecting it to be like………that (there’s an entire second section of them in red just below where this screenshot cuts off). like, good for them.

going down the main tree, we get into clade 2, the more specialized highland species, which are always very exciting.

there’s my personal favorite, N. villosa:

not surprised at N. edwardsiana’s relation, because how else would you be able to achieve such absolutely enormous teeth, but N. macrophylla surprises me. it’s got good teeth, but both edwardsiana and villosa are like, TEETH, you know? i guess it makes sense that it split from villosa, though.

moving from that, VERY glad that the littlest known lad, N. argentii, made it on here. i know i’ve talked about argentii on this blog before, as the Nepenthes species that was so tiny the paper describing it’s discovery warned that population counts could be skewed by the plants ‘hiding under bushes’. their tinyness, which kills me every time i look at an image of them, is somehow weird in terms of being related to N. graciliflora, which is…..pretty normal sized. same with N. armin. makes me wonder how the hell they got so tiny.

of course we can’t leave out the group with the largest currently known species, N. attenboroughii. the hilarity of the smallest and largest Nepenthes species being a single clade apart, if not very distantly diversified down their respective evolutionary lines, is not lost on me.

N. palawanensis is a chonker, but i gotta say i wasn’t expecting it to be the sister species to the one and only megachonker, the plant literally famous for its sheer chonk. imagine being that overshadowed by your sibling.

on a more general note– the paper noted this, too –it’s interesting to see how the lowland species seem to be happier about jumping islands and being promiscuous than the highland species, which seem to clump together by location. i guess it’s not surprising, knowing how specialized some of these highland species can be; villosa, for example, is native to a single side of a single mountain, and is positioned so that the populations are hit by cool wind coming up from the sea. still, lowland species need hot and humid environments, and can be just as picky. it’s gotta be a matter of isolation.

anyway, there’s probably more i could talk about here but…man there’s a lot of data. the paper goes in-depth with how they constructed the more problematic branches, and trouble they had with some over others, confirming that we shouldn’t take this phylogenetic tree as 100% correct; things will almost certainly change or become clearer as more research is done, and phylogenetic trees in particular are known for being constructed and reconstructed time and time again.

still though, it’s like…to see these relationships at this resolution for the first time is just really fucking cool, man. this isn’t even all the species. i remember i went to a carnivorous plant conference two years ago now, and there was a lecture by researchers attempting to untangle the phylogeny of Nepenthes and coming up short aside from a low-resolution tree of some of the more major species and the relation of Nepenthes to other families, their science blocked by the sheer feral chadness on display in the tropical jungles encompassing the land between china and australia. like, i really just want to take a moment, as an end note, to appreciate that these plants fucked so much in the past couple million years that it took multiple major advancements in technology and the examination of hundreds of genes just to get an approximate look at the phylogeny. like, that’s an Isoetes level power move and im not over it

#Anonymous #long post #me reading a new nepenthes paper: *sight narrows into a tunnel* *writes for two hours*#nepenthes #carnivorous plants #asks #plont asks

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aliyasheikh001 · 3 years

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Career In Bioinformatics: Is It Worth?

What is Bioinformatics?

Bioinformatics is an interdisciplinary field concerned with developing and applying methods from computer science to biological problems. For example, the Human Genome Project, which was completed in 2001, wouldn't have been possible without the contribution of intricate bioinformatic algorithms, which were critical for the assembly of millions of short sequences that are molecular.

Bioinformaticians need a background that is solid computer science but also a good understanding of biology. Since bioinformaticians work closely with biologists, they need to communicate complex topics in a way that is understandable to keep up-to-date with new developments in biology.

Studying Bioinformatics

I took part in a preparatory maths course at university before studying Bioinformatics at Saarland University. It turned out to be a smart decision to take that course for university because I realized that my high-school education was not as comprehensive as necessary to prepare me. For example, only in the preparatory time learned about proofs by induction or set theory.

I understood why the university offered preparatory maths courses: the maths lectures were brutal when I started my studies. There would usually be two lectures, each spanning two hours a week. The approach was the following in terms of teaching. The lecturer would scribble definitions and proofs onto the blackboard, and the students would try to keep up with the dizzying pace. Due to the short lecture speed, I always felt that attending the courses didn't help me learn the material.

In my Bachelor's bioinformatics curriculum, roughly 70% of the program's credit points had to be earned in computer science (e.g. programming, algorithms and data structures, concurrency) and maths courses (e.g. Analysis, algebra, stochastics). In contrast, the remainder of the credits could be obtained from the full life sciences. I felt that the first three terms at university were the hardest because each semester featured a maths and a computer science course that is basic. The semesters that are later a more significant share of Bioinformatics courses as well as more hands-on seminars.

Comparing life-science and computer-science courses, I found the life-science procedures much more straightforward and less effort. While life-science lectures just required attending the classes and passing the exam, computer-science methods involved much more work. There are weekly tutorials where the solutions to the assignments are weekly discussed. Additionally, some classes featured short (15 minutes) tests. In these classes, it was usually necessary to reach 50% of the maximum score in the assignments and tests to take the exam (either only a single exam or a mid-term and end-term exam).

What differentiates the Master's through the Bachelor's system is that it is more research-oriented and allows for much greater specialization. Including, I used my Master's to consider machine methods that can be learning as supervised learning or reinforcement learning. The Master's thesis uses up a much more significant element of the total credit points than the Bachelor's thesis. Therefore abilities such as, for instance, literary works analysis, method development, and scientific writing become even more critical in terms of research.

Job Leads as being a Bioinformatics Graduate

Learning bioinformatics, I happened to be often expected where you could act as a bioinformatician. About 80% of bioinformatics place have been in research or the public sector. The issue with research jobs is that they're usually fixed-term (age. g. two years) because these positions in many cases are financed task that is using. Into the public sector, bioinformaticians are often desired in the medical industry (e.g. in hospitals) plus in health-related federal government institutions. The benefit of roles in the public sector is the fact that they've been usually permanent. Nonetheless, employment in an organization that is the general public as being a hospital often involves method administration duties such as, for instance, starting computers and databases - tasks that have little to accomplish with bioinformatics itself. Furthermore, both research and public-sector positions provide fair salaries being low to industry.

In my estimation, no more than 20% of bioinformatics jobs come in the industry. How come the percentage therefore low? The main reason is the only industry sector that employs bioinformaticians is big pharma, within my view. Right here, bioinformaticians are expected to perform tasks such instance:

• Modeling: Estimation of protein structures and simulation of molecular interactions

• Data processing: processing and evaluating sequencing information, for example, from next-generation sequencing or sequencing that is single-cell

• Virtual screening: breakthrough of leads (prospective brand new medications) using computational practices

• Data technology: Analysis and interpretation of data

Since bioinformatics is very research-oriented and industry jobs are few, many graduates (maybe 40%) join PhD programs. The people industry joining work in non-bioinformatics roles is an example, since it consultants, software designers, solutions architects, or information scientists.

Some individuals advise against studying bioinformatics because it is difficult to find an operating task afterwards. I didn't have that experience at all, and I received a job that is numerous from recruiters. I might argue that having a bioinformatics degree, job prospects are acceptable due to the fact bioinformaticians have a particular skill, helping to make them appealing for organizations:

• Bioinformatics graduates exhibit the traits of T-shaped experts. This permits them to execute many different tasks and to behave as facilitators in interdisciplinary teams.

• Bioinformatics graduates often have more experience that is useful software than computer-science graduates.

• Bioinformatics graduates are keen learners. Their proficiency in numerous disciplines shows that they can effortlessly conform to situations being brand new.

Advice to Prospective Bioinformatics Pupils and Graduates

Whether I would study bioinformatics again, I might be torn backwards and forwards if you asked me. Regarding the one hand, I must say I liked the variety of the bioinformatics system, and, with a degree in bioinformatics, many jobs are possible. The economic truth is there are few bioinformatics roles, so when you take a non-bioinformatics work, all your specialized knowledge decreases the drain having said that. Hence, I could also imagine studying a less subject specialized as computer or data science.

If you are thinking about studying bioinformatics, here are a few bits of advice:

• Do not study Bioinformatics if you hate maths. Especially the semesters that are first maths-intensive.

• Do no study Bioinformatics that it is very similar to studying biology if you were to think. Keep in mind that bioinformatics is more associated with computer technology than biology. You will find excessively biologists, which can be a few results in the change to bioinformatics.

• if you aim to operate as a bioinformatician in industry, plan. Remember to take courses that are industry-relevant forge industry connections, for example, through internships.

• Be flexible in your career ambitions. After graduating, you could not act as a bioinformatician. Nonetheless, you won't have problems locating a place when you have good programming and information analysis abilities.

Bioinformatics Versus Data Science

• possibly the most useful definition of "bioinformatics" is processing and analyzing large-scale genomics and other biological datasets to develop biological insights. As a result, other terms are often used, such as "computational genomics" and data that are "genomic."

• Data science is a little broader, mostly a more general term whose meaning is similar to bioinformatics minus the focus of biological processing and evaluating large-scale datasets to produce insights.

• in an article in Towards Data Science by Altuna Akalin, who cites audacity.

An information scientist's primary abilities include programming, machine learning, data, data wrangling, data visualization and communication, and data intuition, which probably means troubleshooting data concerns that are analysis-related.

• What comes up in bioinformatics is domain-specific information processing and quality checking, fundamental information transformation and filtering, statistics and device learning, domain-specific analytical tools and information visualization and integration, capacity to write code (programming), the power to communicate insights which can be data-driven.

• the difference that is key in Akalin's definitions is "certain domain data." The domain is genomic, proteomic, hereditary, and healthcare-related information in life sciences. It does not necessarily add sales and data, which are economical. Another method of putting it's that a bioinformatics professional is probable an information scientist; however, a data scientist is not necessarily a bioinformatician.

Bioinformatics Facts & Figures

• Persistence Market Research recently published a report, "Global Market Study on Bioinformatics – Asia to Witness Fastest Growth by 2020," which valued the worldwide bioinformatics market at $4.110 billion in 2014 but likely to grow at an annual mixture growth (CAGR) of 20.4 % from 2014 to 2020, hitting 12.542 billion in 2020.

• The Future of Jobs Survey 2018 by the World Economic Forum estimates that 85 per cent of surveyed businesses tend or very likely to consider data analytics being big. It also indicated that the revolution that is "industrial create 133 million brand new job functions and that 75 million jobs are disappearing by 2020."

• And yes, you guessed it, many of the jobs which are now in the regions of information technology and bioinformatics. In reality, the #1 top ten job champion ended up being "data analysts and scientists" followed closely by "artificial intelligence and machine learning specialists." The number 4 spot was data that are "big," followed by "digital transformation experts" (#5), "software and applications developers and analysts" (#9) and "information technology services." (#10).

• together with job outlook for bioinformatics for 2018 to 2026? The Bioinformatics Home weblog writes, "The easy reply to this real question is that the overall outlook is excellent, the demand outweighs the supply. However, the devil is within the details as usual. Nevertheless, it's good to become a bioinformatics scientist."

Job Titles and Search Terms

• Although "bioinformatician" could be a certain job, and there are various keywords that are frequently related, including bioinformatics.

Bioengineering, computational science, pc software engineering, device learning, math, data, molecular biology, biochemistry, computer technology, biostatistics, biomedical engineering, engineering, biology, information systems, genomics, computational biology, information science, and epidemiology.

• a search that is single BioSpace developed over 100 jobs mainly using "bioinformatics." The idea being: biostatisticians in the space that is biopharma to have a good comprehension of both data science and particular aspects of the life span sciences.

• Akalin had written, you're kept with most of the information science skillset plus some more "If you eliminate the particular domain needs from the bioinformatics set of skills. Individuals who result in the switch from bioinformatics to information technology will most need that is likely to adjust to the company's information organization and circulation environment. The issues are from a different domain, so they will have to adjust to that also. But the same would be true, at the least to some degree, for the data researchers jobs that are switching various employers."

• Akalin also points out that much of the difference is regarding mindset, particularly in academia to industry. Several information researchers who switched to bioinformatics or vice versa said that the sector is more product-oriented and customer and that the models needed on the market require more maintenance. "Besides," Akalin writes, discussing Markus Schuler, "he shares the idea itself is as important in product-oriented thinking that you don't constantly select the coolest and the most useful models; other factors like operating time, execution demands, scalability and architecture fit and also interpretability for the model. However, in terms of skills, he adds that bioinformatics and data technology is very comparable if not identical."

Job Growth and Median Wages

• The Bureau of Labor Statistics doesn't execute a task that is great of down specializations like data science and bioinformatics, tending to lump everything under Mathematicians and Statisticians. The BLS claims the task outlook from 2016 to 2026 is 33 per cent, much faster than average, and that the median pay in 2017 ended up being $84,760 with a Master's Degree for that category. Statisticians were cited among the fastest-growing occupations, at 34 per cent, and epidemiologists have an improvement rate of 9 per cent and pay that is median of Master's Degree prospect of $69,660.

• In 2018, O*NET OnLine, sponsored by the U.S. Department of Labor, projected task development for bioinformatics researchers within the U.S. to be 5 to 9 % and as high as 12 % in California. They launched that from 2016 to 2026, there is 3,700 new job, and that total employment in 2016 had been 39,000 staffers. Based on the study, the same median wages in 2017 were $76,690 yearly for bioinformatics boffins and $47,700 for specialists.

While the Bioinformatics Home blog correctly notes, "In any case, median salaries give just a proven fact that is vague of because the wages differ enormously between quantities of employment."

Do you want more informational blogs Click here

#career #careeradvice #Careerideas

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willowjelly16 · 3 years

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My Spirit Manifestation Overview By Allen Thoughts Manifestation

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hoodoo12 · 4 years

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Familial Ties (And How To Break Them) 7/14

Mature. Breaking into a church, new demons, violence ~

He only had rudimentary knowledge of Catholicism -- that was a total lie, he knew enough to stay the hell away from that group -- but Pate insisted on the holy water, saying it would be helpful, so he went along. At least in Vegas, even a church, no one batted an eye at his appearance. That was both disconcerting and dull.

Beetlejuice hung back as Pate spoke to the priest about obtaining holy water. He flipped through a Bible he found on one of the pews. It was the same drivel he vaguely remembered from the fifteenth century.

Suddenly, Pate was back at his side, grabbing his elbow tightly and frog marching him back out of the building. She was hissing something under her breath about "stupid priests" and "don't understand the gravity" as they made their way back onto the busy sidewalk of the Strip.

"Pate, baby, what the hell?"

She told him the priest didn't believe her, that he thought they were crazy, and he wouldn't even sell them the holy water. There were also a few choice words about the whole situation, and a literal spitting rant about how the priest had wanted to call the cops.

Beetlejuice cocked his head and told her very blandly, "Yes, you're right. No one would ever think we were totally in the right about this, and only sane people traipse into a church spouting information about hellmouths and the need for gallons of holy water to destroy them. That guy was obviously delusional."

He waited till she calmed down enough to realize he was pulling her chain, then took her hand.

"Fuck that priest," he announced loudly. Only a few people passing by looked over at that. "You want that holy water? We'll just come back tonight and take it. Done and done."

Before she could muster the indignation to get angry with him, a grin broke out on Beetlejuice’s face that he quickly wiped away but it was enough to make her realize he was teasing her. Pate leveled a deadpan scowl at him and flashed him the bird, but it only made him snicker like a middle schooler before he composed himself and assured her that they’d come back that night. Though she did have her misgivings about breaking into let alone stealing from a church, she also didn’t have any better ideas about where or how to get holy water or how they’d kill the hellmouth without it. So she agreed.

There was a 24-hr diner a couple blocks over where they went to wile away the last few hours before the church closed. By nightfall, Pate had probably consumed two carafes’ worth of coffee by herself, not that the tired-looking waitress seemed to care about the half dozen used mugs on the table around her. She was much more perturbed by Beetlejuice reaching over the partition into the cooking area and grabbing a container of syrup, which he proceeded to drink straight from the spout. Pate hurriedly paid for them and hustled him out, muttering apologies.

Even after dark the streets of Las Vegas were far from empty, they might be even more vibrant and busy than they’d been during the day. But down the street where the church was located, things appeared quiet as the two of them approached the building, dark but for the light that shone through a beautiful stained-glass window at the front.

“A place like this has gotta have a security system,” Pate mused aloud. “Any ideas on how we get in?”

With a confident smirk, Beetlejuice loudly cracked his knuckles.

“Please, babe, give me a challenge at least!”

He cast a quick look around, as if searching for something, his gaze settling on a utility pole. Glancing back over his shoulder to waggle his eyebrows at her, he made a quick swiping motion with his hand, growling low in his throat as he did. Immediately there was a loud electrical snap and a shower of sparks fell from the transformer atop the pole. The stained-glass window went dark as the light inside abruptly switched off. As did the lights in a few adjacent buildings, the entire corner now swathed in shadows.

He turned back to face her, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket and gesturing with both hands like a stage magician who’d just performed a particularly mystifying illusion. Pate hummed in approval, clapping her hands with only a little irony.

“Impressive. What else can you do?”

"Oh, I can make lots of sparks fly, baby," he replied off-handedly, "but here on the street that'll get us arrested even in Sin City. Come on, I'll boost you up. You get in there, grab the water, and we're golden. You brought something to carry it in, right?"

Pate shrugged, dislodging the shoulder strap of a hydration pack she’d brought from home.

“From my hiking phase,” she informed him with a grin. “Can your demon magic jimmy the lock on the window?”

Beetlejuice simply snapped his fingers and even from where they stood Pate heard the tell tale click of the lock springing open. He moved past her, backing against the wall and lacing his fingers together for her to step in. Pate tried to be gentle, grasping his shoulders to keep steady as he hoisted her to the window. It gave easily, sliding open and permitting her to wriggle in.

It looked like a classroom, so she found her way to the sanctuary where she’d glimpsed a ceremonial basin on their earlier trip. Naturally it was empty, they must fill it only when needed. Which meant it had to come from somewhere. Pate headed for the pastor’s office, rummaging in desk drawers and the closet and filing cabinet until she unearthed a clear plastic bottle with a label that read “Consecrated Holy Water from the river Jordan.”

Perfect!

She went ahead and took the whole bottle, pushing a chair against the wall to boost her back to the sill.

“Score!” she called quietly to Beetlejuice, dropping the bottle into his waiting hands.

He caught the dropped bottle, set it down, and stretched upward to help Pate down from the window. He let his hands squeeze and linger on her backside for an extra moment; if accused of being inappropriate he'd just use the excuse he wanted to make sure she didn't stumble as she came back down to the sidewalk. He nodded at the bottle he'd set down.

"Good. Now can we get back to the hotel? Big day tomorrow. You're gonna need your rest, I want you on your back--" he said, but was cut off by gasp from her.

She flashed him a knowing grin when she felt his fingers gripping her ass, bracing her outstretched arms against his shoulders again as she dropped back down to the ground, his hands resting on her hips, hers still laid atop his shoulders. Pate rolled her eyes at his lurid talk, smiling even as she shook her head when something beyond him caught her eye.

Darkness still enveloped the corner around the church, maybe the whole block, but she could see movement. After a moment her eyes picked out a four legged shape, slinking cautiously across the road towards them as if wary of their presence. It looked like a dog at first glance, but as it drew closer she realized it was massive, three feet tall at least, with a large squarish head, low slung neck and humped shoulders like a hyena. It also appeared to have no fur or ears, drooping jowls dripping with saliva and eyes that gleamed.

She gasped harshly, realizing all at once that the eyes were not reflecting light because there was no light. Whatever this creature was, its large round eyes were glowing.

"What is that?" she whispered.

"--eh?" Beetlejuice replied, slightly annoyed something else had caught her attention when it should've been his. But her hands had become tight on his shoulders, and it wasn't in a good way. He turned to see what she could possibly be looking at.

The skulking shape even gave him a start, and his cold blood ran colder.

"Dziban," he said in a choked voice.

Suddenly, he wasn't sure what to do. He could get out of here, but didn't know if he could pull Pate through the ether with him, and like their distantly related-cousins the Hounds of Tindalos, they could travel through it too. Boost her back up into the church? Just fucking run? Frozen by indecision was a poor choice, but no option was a good one.

For Beetlejuice of all people to sound thoroughly shaken seemed a bad sign. The creature--Dziban, he'd called it?-- was skulking closer, peering at them with its gaping, pupil-less eyes. It looked emaciated, the mange-dark skin pulled tight over every bone and muscle. Pate shivered, her hands tightening on Beetlejuice's shoulders at the disturbingly human front paws, the toes as long as her own fingers and tipped with claws that clacked on the pavement as it padded ever nearer.

"Beej, what do we do?" she gulped, almost more frightened of this beast than she had been of the specter's malevolent sibling.

"You're going to go. Just put your head down and get the fuck out of here," he told her fiercely. No time for pithy comments now. He kept his eyes on the vaguely canid creature padding closer. "Rigel called Dziban out of that fucking book. I'm sure he sent it after me, so I'll keep it distracted."

He risked a look at her.

"Pate, just go!"

In the second he'd taken his eyes off Dziban, it'd covered a third of the block. He'd forgotten they could slip through corporeal space too. With its lipless mouth, it looked like it was smiling at the two of them, even as a thin tongue slipped between its teeth to test the air.

"Seriously, baby, you've gotta go!"

Beetlejuice put a hand on her shoulder and pushed as he stepped between her and the creature.

Her heart was hammering like she'd sprinted a mile already, watching the thing close the distance between them. She stood paralyzed on shaking legs, unable to follow Beetlejuice's command even if she wanted to. Fear had its talons in her, but she dithered, torn between giving in to her body's own instinct to run like a terrified rabbit or the compulsion to find some sort of weapon to protect herself and him.

When he positioned himself protectively in front of her, giving her shoulder a stiff shove to get her moving, it seemed the decision was made. She turned to bolt and was met with another pair of brightly glowing eyes and exposed teeth. She screamed and backpedaled away from a second creature.

Fucking fuck fuck fuck!

How could he have been so fucking stupid not to remember Dziban travelled in a fucking pair?!

At Pate's scream Beetlejuice spun, saw the second Dziban, and grabbed her. Pulling her off balance, he shoved her against the wall of the church, keeping himself between her and the creatures as best as possible. They had the two of them flanked, and they were going to play with them like prey, and drag them back to the Netherworld maybe alive but mostly dead.

Again without taking the time to give her any indication what he was going to do, he spun, grabbed Pate again, and shoved her upwards towards the broken window again.

"Get the fuck in!" he ordered, even as the first creature took the opportunity to rush him.

Pate gave a startled yelp when Beetlejuice seized her around the waist and all but threw her back at the window which she had neglected to close. Hands and arms scrabbling for purchase, she just managed to catch herself when his supporting hands left her, her ears filled with hellish snarls and growls. Contorting awkwardly, half in and half out of the window, Pate turned to see that one of the monsters had charged at Beetlejuice while the other remained fixated on her.

He just barely had the time to hoist her upward before Dziban was on him. He twisted as it launched itself at him; it was large enough to easily reach his throat but he managed to deflect it from its goal with his shoulder instead. Still, that got it close enough for purchase with its hands, and he had to grapple it while off balance. Pate still hadn't pulled herself fully into the church! He decided it was dark enough and plus the fact that fucking hellhounds were attacking them a few extra otherworldly phenomenon wasn't going to break any tourist's brain any further, so instead of trying to fend off the beast with the two most human hands he owned, the black tentacles erupted from the ether and wrapped around Dziban. They lent shadow mass to him as well, and helped stabilize him a little.

It hurt grabbing this thing; why did every fucking creature from the Netherworld have some weird extra ability?! Dziban were angry, hungry creatures and of course they had poisonous skin like goddamn frogs too! Why wouldn't that be the case?! he thought bitterly as the tentacles holding it most tightly ached and became weaker.

It still bit and scratched and that hurt too.

And Pate still wasn't through that goddamned window!

She tried to keep an eye on Beetlejuice as she squatted uncomfortably in the open window while also keeping the second hellhound occupied. She whistled to it like it really was just an overgrown border collie, letting her arm dangle down as low as she dared to tantalize it into keeping its attention on her.

When Dziban raised itself onto its hind legs to snap at her, she jerked her hand back, whimpering quietly when its horrifically humanoid paws gouged furrows down the cement wall. Turning her attention back to Beetlejuice she could see the writhing shadowy tentacles she had first glimpsed when they fought with Rigel in her apartment. They were wrapped around the hellhound's body, holding its clawed paws and snapping jaws at bay while others coiled around its throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until the beast's struggling started to weaken.

As if homing in on its twin's distress, the second hound turned toward the demon, growling. She wanted to call him, to warn him, but she worried that if she distracted him now the other hellhound might break free. With a tiny gasp she remembered the bottle tucked under her arm, whipping the cap off with fumbling fingers and holding it out as far as she could reach, dripping an uninterrupted stream down Dziban's back.

The hellhound flinched and snarled, shaking itself very much like a regular dog, but was otherwise unaffected and Pate's heart sank into her stomach like a lead weight.

“Consecrated Holy Water from the river Jordan my ass!”

It took more concentration and strength to effectively keep teeth and nails off him, especially feeling the effects of whatever venom the thing was secreting, but his tentacles held tight and slowly, slowly, Dziban's life slipped away. With a feral grin on his face, it gave him almost orgasmic joy to see the light fading from the creature's pupil-less eyes, even as it continued to snap and scrabble at him. A sudden splashing of water startled him, but the tentacles knew their work and continued slowly crushing. Pate's yell was more distracting, and he didn't catch what she'd said, so he turned to see what was happening.

In his moment of distraction, the beast he held struggled mightily so he turned back to focus on it again. That was enough to give the second Dziban--or the same Dziban, weren't they fucking clones or hiveminds or something?!--enough opportunity to leap forward and grab him.

Not by a tentacle, not by his suit: the hellhound's jaws closed on his shoulder and upper arm, and Beetlejuice went to his knees in agony.

"BEEJ!" she screamed, horrified, too far away to do anything other than spectate as the hellhound sank its teeth into his shoulder.

Goddammit, she had to do something! Craning to look over her shoulder back into the church, eyes searching desperately for something, anything she could use to fight them off him. There was a tall decorative cross of gilded, gold colored metal set in a stand. Struggling to lower her legs back down to the chair, Pate raced across the room, snatched the processional cross in both hands and ran back to the window, hauling herself up and pulling the pole with her.

Without Beetlejuice there to catch her, the drop back down to the ground looked much more daunting, but she took a breath and jumped. A painful jolt rocketed from her ankles to her knees and she pitched forward, catching herself on her elbows with a pained grunt. Getting to her feet, Pate gripped the standard tightly in both hands and raced forward, jabbing at the hellhound's ribs with the pointed end of the metal cross.

"Get the fuck off him!"

He had to get up. No fucking way was he going to be dragged down by fucking Rigel's fucking beasts! Beetlejuice snarled wordlessly and refused to loosen his grip on Dziban number one. It was fading fast. The second he tried to twist away from, to protect his head and neck, and then, from nowhere, a metal pole slammed into the creature, staggering it and forcing it to release him.

Pate looked scared and fierce, but she shouldn't be here--!

She obviously didn't get the message. She swung whatever that pole was, barely missing his head, and stabbed at Dziban again. Whether it was the metal it was made of or the fact it was a religious artifact, it made the hellhound jump back a bit. It gave a whiney, snarly noise that had no earthly equivalent, and it faded away. The one he had grappled also slipped away like water in cupped hands. Beetlejuice wasn't sure if he'd killed it or it was taken by its kin.

It was suddenly too quiet, and pain caught up to him. He was glad he was still on his knees, because he would have probably collapsed if he hadn't been.

Just as suddenly as they'd appeared, the hellbeasts seemed to evaporate like fog burnt away by sunlight. Pate's chest was still heaving, her blood singing in her ears and her heart thumping a frantic tattoo in her chest. Not sure if the demon hounds may come back, she kept a tight hold on her improvised weapon and lowered herself on trembling legs next to Beetlejuice. His pale face was somehow even paler, eyes pinched shut and jaw clenched in obvious pain.

She exhaled a quiet string of expletives at the sight of the dark liquid seeping through his fingers, gripped tightly around the bite wound on his shoulder.

"Can you stand up?" she asked softly and after a moment he swallowed hard and gave her a stiff nod, shifting his feet and rising a little unsteadily.

Pate stood with him, one arm held out as if to catch him if he lost his balance. She was loathe to drop the processional cross but she needed both arms, positioning herself under his uninjured arm and taking it around her shoulders while her own arm wrapped around his waist to help support him.

"I've got you," she murmured, uttering other meaningless soothing words to him as they limped back towards the hotel.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice x OC #rp #Beetlejuice based on Blumjuice

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