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cliffordchick · 3 years

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Author’s Note: Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this but here goes. I originally wrote this as a writing exercise with different characters in mind but decided it would be the perfect piece to test out my fic writing skills again. Please be kind but also don’t be shy with the criticism or love.

“I never imagined myself in a wedding dress,” you say. You study your reflection for a moment in the floor-length mirror before your eyes drift towards Calum. He’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, pushpins balancing dangerously in between his lips. You can tell he’s trying not to look up at you, his eyes trained on the hem he’s working on. You stifle a sigh and push on. “I always thought if I got married, I’d just show up at the courthouse in jeans and a t-shirt. Oh! Maybe a bikini fresh from a dip in a hotel pool!”

The pushpins scatter, flying in all different directions as Calum lets out a hearty laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?” He drops the hem of the gown and runs his now free hands through his hair.

“You’d be so bored without me,” you pipe.

Bored doesn’t even begin to describe it; he thinks as he steals a glance at you for the first time. He thinks back to the moment he first laid eyes on you, all those years ago. You guys were seven, and you were hanging upside down on the monkey bars, pigtails grazing the wood chip-covered ground in the breeze. He was drawn to you instantly, even when you let out the most menacing, Wicked Witch of the West style laugh.

Calum’s so lost in the memory he doesn’t even have time to process what you’re doing until it’s too late. You’re on your hands and knees, helping him pick up the stray pins. His heart nearly stops when the delicate lace on the bodice catches on the crystal appliqués of the floor-length mirror.

“Would you please just stand there and look pretty,” Calum hisses, shaking his head.

His words may be harsh, but you know there’s nothing but love underneath them. There’s never been anything but love underneath his words. Even that time he told you to “fuck off” when you barged into his dorm room freshman year, moments before he lost his virginity. You shake your head, willing the memory to go back into its box in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind.

You stand, looking down at Calum with a pout forming on her face. The Y/N Pout™ as Calum has come to refer to it as. “Am I not always pretty?”

Calum lets out an exasperated sigh. This is what he gets for asking you to fill in for a bride-to-be who had to cancel her fitting for a “venue emergency.” As if the wedding venue was more important than the wedding dress that cost the same as several month’s worths of rent at his shitty studio apartment.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/N; you don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it,” you say, sticking your tongue out. Truthfully, he’s the only one who has ever called you gorgeous, but you’re not about to tell him that. It’ll just make him blush. And if there’s one thing you can’t resist, it’s a blushing Calum. Instead, you make a big show of getting back onto the pedestal, picking the bottom of the gown up as if you’re an eighteenth-century Princess who has just let the love of her life walk out on her. “How does she expect to dance in this thing?”

Calum reclaims his spot, kneeling in front of you. One hand holding the delicate fabric, the other working a pushpin through it for the seamstress. “She won’t. That’s what the reception dress is for.”

“A reception dress?” you choke out. “But she spent,” you pause, looking at the receipt on the small side table. “$10,000!” You fan yourself and turn around. “Ty, I don’t think I should be wearing this dress.”

Calum grunts in response, pushpins back between his lips. If there’s anyone who should be wearing this dress, it’s you. He quickly shakes the thought away, steadying his hands as he works the pushpin through.

“What kind of monster spends $10,000 on a dress she’s not even going to wear the whole night! I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t you dare,” Calum warns, working the final pushpin through the fabric, securing the hemline. He stands, wiping his hands on his pants before offering you his hand. “Come on queasy, let’s get you out of that dress before you do something stupid.”

“I don’t think anything is stupider than spending $10,000 on a wedding dress,” you say, accepting his hand. You try to ignore the static shock that jolts through your body at the contact. He’s helped you up millions of times, and this should be no different. Before you have time to dwell, you carefully make your way back to the small dressing room.

Calum cleans up as you wrestle with the gown in the dressing room. A thread of profanities falls from your lips before you emerges a moment later in a bright pair of jeans and a polka-dotted sweater. You gently hand the gown to Calum, who gingerly hangs it back up on a rack full of white dresses — none of which sparkle quite like this one.

“I feel human again!” you shout, dancing around the room. “Next time you need a fill-in bride for a fitting, do me a favor and don’t call me.”

It’s Calum’s turn to pout, brown eyes growing three times the size. “But whatever are best friends for if not for trying on ridiculously expensive wedding dresses?”

“Fine,” you say, giving in. “But I expected a proper proposal next time. None of this five am emergency text nonsense.”

Calum grabs your hand and immediately drops to his knees; a playful glint dances across his eyes. You look at him wide-eyed, lips tugging up at the corners. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you be my fake bride from now until eternity?”

You clap your free hand over your mouth. “Oh, Calum,” you say, taking on a British accent for reasons not even she knows. “It would be my honor.”

Calum laughs so hard he loses his balance, sending you both tumbling to the pearly white floor. “What was that accent?” Calum manages to get out between laughs and gasps for air.

“I don’t know!” you shout, eyes brimming with tears from laughter. “It sort of just popped out.”

“Don’t you mean it, popped out?” Calum says, delivering the last part in his own take on a terrible British accent.

You shove him away before quickly pulling him back towards you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I hate you.”

“Hate you too,” he says as his smile spreads across his face revealing a dimple on his cheek.

You stay like that for a moment. A tangled web of limbs, laughing and enjoying each other’s closeness. It’s been a while since you’ve just reveled in each other’s company even though you both live in the same city. Calum’s been busy, working crazy hours to prove himself at Something Blue, the wedding gown boutique that specializes in outrageous, occasionally blue-dyed wedding gowns. And you’ve been holed up in random libraries, working on your dissertation. You do text throughout the day. You send him various gifs of a person jumping off a bridge, and Calum responds with various pictures of glorious diner food items you’d miss if you did it. And you try to FaceTime at least once a week, but it’s not the same as being in each other’s presence. When the two of you are together, it’s almost like you’re two sides of the same person. You complete each other.

Neither of you is ready to pull apart, but your stomach doesn’t get the memo, sending an echoing growl through Something Blue. You move from the crook of Calum’s neck and instead muffle your laughter in his chest. Calum does his best to keep his heartbeat under control.

“Come on. I think I owe you and your Hungry, Hungry Hippo stomach breakfast.”

“Frankie’s breakfast extravaganza?” you ask, pulling away from Calum so you can look up into his eyes. It takes all your might not to reach out and poke the dimple on his cheek.

Calum gasps dramatically, “I’m offended you have to ask!”

Just as quickly as you fell, you’re back on your feet and standing a safe distance away from each other. The loss of contact is immediately felt between both of you but neither wants to admit it, out loud or to yourselves. Calum runs a nervous hand through his hair as his cheek dimple disappears. You tug at your sweater that had ridden up before you turn towards him, smiling again.

“Shall we,” you ask, British accent back in full force.

Calum shakes his head before offering you his arm, “Lead the way, m’lady.”

#5sos #5sos fic #calum hood #calum hood fic #5sos fluff #calum fluff #calum fic #calum x reader #i literally have no mutuals to tag anymore so this is going to be interesting #mine #ch mini blurb #mini blurb #are these even my tags? who knows

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wanderlustxprincess · 3 years

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Daily Writing Prompt Challenge - Day 1

“I never imagined myself in a wedding dress,” Delilah says. She studies her reflection for a moment in the floor-length mirror before her eyes drift towards Tyler. He’s kneeling on the floor in front of her, pushpins balancing dangerously in between his lips. She can tell he’s trying not to look up at her, his eyes trained on the hem he’s working on. She stifles a sigh and pushes on. “I always thought if I got married, I’d just show up at the courthouse in jeans and a t-shirt. Oh! Maybe a bikini fresh from a dip in a hotel pool!”

The pushpins scatter, flying in all different directions as Tyler lets out a hearty laugh. “You’re something else, Del.” He drops the hem of the gown and runs his now free hands through his hair.

“You’d be so bored without me,” Delilah pipes.

Bored doesn’t even begin to describe it; he thinks as he steals a glance at Delilah for the first time. He thinks back to the moment he first laid eyes on her, all those years ago. They were seven, and she was hanging upside down on the monkey bars, pigtails grazing the wood chip-covered ground in the breeze. He was drawn to her instantly, even when she let out the most menacing, Wicked Witch of the West style laugh.

Tyler’s so lost in the memory he doesn’t even have time to process what Delilah is doing until it’s too late. She’s on her hands and knees, helping him pick up the stray pins. His heart nearly stops when the delicate lace on the bodice catches on the crystal appliqués of the floor-length mirror.

“Would you please just stand there and look pretty,” Tyler hisses, shaking his head.

His words may be harsh, but Delilah knows there’s nothing but love underneath them. There’s never been anything but love underneath his words. Even that time he told her to “fuck off” when she barged into his dorm room freshman year, moments before he lost his virginity. Delilah shakes her head, willing the memory to go back into its box in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind.

Delilah stands, looking down at Tyler with a pout forming on her face. The Delilah Pout™ as Tyler has come to refer to it as. “Am I not always pretty?”

Tyler lets out an exasperated sigh. This is what he gets for asking Delilah to fill in for a bride-to-be who had to cancel her fitting for a “venue emergency.” As if the wedding venue was more important than the wedding dress that cost the same as several month’s worths of rent at his shitty studio apartment.

“You’re gorgeous, Delilah; you don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it,” she says, sticking her tongue out. Truthfully, he’s the only one who has ever called her gorgeous, but she’s not about to tell him that. It’ll just make him blush. And if there’s one thing Delilah can’t resist, it’s a blushing Tyler. Instead, she makes a big show of getting back onto the pedestal, picking the bottom of the gown up as if she’s an eighteenth-century Princess who has just let the love of her life walk out on her. “How does she expect to dance in this thing?”

Tyler reclaims his spot, kneeling in front of Delilah. One hand holding the delicate fabric, the other working a pushpin through it for the seamstress. “She won’t. That’s what the reception dress is for.”

“A reception dress?” Delilah chokes out. “But she spent,” she pauses, looking at the receipt on the small side table. “$10,000!” She fans herself as she turns around. “Ty, I don’t think I should be wearing this dress.”

Tyler grunts in response, pushpins back between his lips. If there’s anyone who should be wearing this dress, it’s you. He quickly shakes the thought away, steadying his hands as he works the pushpin through.

“What kind of monster spends $10,000 on a dress she’s not even going to wear the whole night! I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t you dare,” Tyler warns, working the final pushpin through the fabric, securing the hemline. He stands, wiping his hands on his pants before offering his hand to Delilah. “Come on queasy, let’s get you out of that dress before you do something stupid.”

“I don’t think anything is stupider than spending $10,000 on a wedding dress,” she says, accepting his hand. She tries to ignore the static shock that jolts through her body at the contact. He’s helped her up millions of times, and this should be no different. Before she has time to dwell, she carefully makes her way back to the small dressing room.

Tyler cleans up as Delilah wrestles with the gown in the dressing room. A thread of profanities falls from her lips before she emerges a moment later in a bright pair of jeans and a polka-dotted sweater. She gently hands the gown to Tyler, who gingerly hangs it back up on a rack full of white dresses — none of which sparkle quite like this one.

“I feel human again!” Delilah says, dancing around the room. “Next time you need a fill-in bride for a fitting, do me a favor and don’t call me.”

It’s Tyler’s turn to pout, brown eyes growing three times the size. “But whatever are best friends for if not for trying on ridiculously expensive wedding dresses?”

“Fine,” Delilah says, giving in. “But I expected a proper proposal next time. None of this five am emergency text nonsense.”

Tyler grabs her hand and immediately drops to his knees; a playful glint dances across his eyes. Delilah looks at him wide-eyed, her lips tugging up at the corners. “Delilah Albright, will you be my fake bride from now until eternity?”

Delilah claps her free hand over her mouth. “Oh, Tyler,” she says, taking on a British accent for reasons not even she knows. “It would be my honor.”

Tyler laughs so hard he loses his balance, sending them both tumbling to the pearly white floor. “What was that accent?” Tyler manages to get out between laughs and gasps for air.

“I don’t know!” Delilah shouts, eyes brimming with tears from laughter. “It sort of just popped out.”

“Don’t you mean it, popped out?” Tyler says, delivering the last part in his own take on a terrible British accent.

Delilah shoves him away before quickly pulling him back towards her. She buries her face in the crook of his neck. “I hate you.”

“Hate you too,” he says as his smile spreads across his face revealing a dimple on his cheek.

They stay like that for a moment. A tangled web of limbs, laughing and enjoying each other’s closeness. It’s been a while since they’ve just reveled in each other’s company even though they both live in the same city. Tyler’s been busy, working crazy hours to prove himself at Something Blue, the wedding gown boutique that specializes in outrageous, occasionally blue-dyed wedding gowns. And Delilah’s been holed in random libraries, working on her dissertation. They do text throughout the day. Delilah sends him various gifs of a person jumping off a bridge, and Tyler responds with various pictures of glorious diner food items she’d miss if she did it. And they try to FaceTime at least once a week, but it’s not the same as being in each other’s presence. When they’re together, it’s almost like they’re two sides of the same person. They complete each other.

Neither one is ready to pull apart, but Delilah’s stomach doesn’t get the memo, sending an echoing growl through Something Borrowed. Delilah moves from the crook of Tyler’s neck and instead muffles her laughter in his chest. Tyler does his best to keep his heartbeat under control.

“Come on. I think I owe you and your Hungry, Hungry Hippo stomach breakfast.”

“Frankie’s breakfast extravaganza?” Delilah asks, pulling away from Tyler so she can look up into his eyes. It takes all her might not to reach out and poke the dimple on his cheek.

Tyler gasps dramatically, “I’m offended you have to ask!”

Just as quickly as they fell, they’re back on their feet and standing a safe distance away from each other. The loss of contact is immediately felt between them but neither wants to admit it, out loud or to themselves. Tyler runs a nervous hand through his hair as his cheek dimple disappears. Delilah tugs at her sweater that had ridden up before she turns towards him, smiling again.

“Shall we,” Delilah asks, British accent back in full force.

Tyler shakes his head before offering her his arm, “Lead the way, m’lady.”

#writing #writing prompt #writing prompts #writing challenge #love #romance #couple #best friend #wedding #daily writing challenge #daily writing prompt #mine

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shipping-receiving · 5 years

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JB Fav Fics

Ages ago, I reblogged @chickren‘s post (from 2013!) and I promised to give it a shot but got all tied up with my dissertation and my own fic. Now that my dissertation is done, I HAVE COMPLETED THIS. Bear in mind these answers might be a bit ‘dated’ as well (by a few months) because I’ve not been reading much fic on my end. Turns out when I’m writing my own, I can only hold one version of J/B in my head.

Anyway this list is LONG AND TOOK ME FOREVER and I also wrote comments because I can’t help myself. So everything is under the cut. I took out the Shuffled Challenge one (very 2013 lol) and I replaced it with a category called... favourite S8 fix-it. Can you believe it? After I made all this noise about not being able to read fix-its?

[J/B Fic Recs: Master Post if anyone needs it before we start things off]

Favourite fic set immediately after ADWD Second to fucking none: Honor Thy Regard by SigilBroken Nights Without Armor by bratanimus

Favourite fic set a long time after ADWD Oh. Salt Wife by Lady_in_Red. Breathtaking simplicity.

Favourite TV canon fic Pretty and Traveling Far by astolat A Man for All Seasons by dreadwulf

Favourite S8 fix-it Yes, I know. I can’t deal with fix-its. And yet. Ice by Gwen77 Ring Them Bells by kirazi Battle is the Great Redeemer by Lady_In_Red

Favourite modern AU Clean hands by you-know-who (... it’s Gwen77) + all the classics: Fever by Lady_In_Red On the Night’s Watch by Miss_M It’s Like Weather by ssstrychnine Beast and the Beast by SigilBroken And of course our recent fandom favourite: two halves of a soul by angel_deux

Favourite kiss (Don’t specify chapter) Okay this is kind of a random one but I remember re-reading Roommate Wanted by JustAGirl24 a couple months back, and when they finally kissed I wanted to freaking throw my phone across the room. It’s not even described in detail, it was just such a perfectly timed OMFG!!! THEY KISSED! moment.

Favourite smut Anything by Miss_M, good lord. My all-time favourite is Golden and True (modern AU, sequel to Ball and Chain), but for canon!verse it has to be Heart’s Desire and Spring Awakening. And obviously I have to say Flawed by francoeurs – smut exploring J/B’s Issues with a capital I? I’m THERE.

And for multi-chapter fic, Everyone Has Secrets by ellaria is fire. Oh and also, everyone’s favourite professor AU, Stacked by QuizzicalQuinnia.

Favourite UST On the Night’s Watch and Someone to Watch Over Me by Miss_M. I love that these two fics take place over such a short time (a few days) but they manage to feel like slow burns. That’s fucking skill right there.

Best written fic I hate this question. You want me to pick the best-written fic out of the FIVE THOUSAND J/B FICS ON AO3? Lmao I’m skipping.

Favourite fic with an unusual premise Multiverse central: All the Roads are Winding by ShirleyAnn66 In which Brienne can turn into a sea lion: This Is Your Wilderness by hardlyfatal GENDER SWAP: all knights are gallant and all maids are beautiful by janie_tangerine Jaime is a sculptor: Madonna of the Balcony by QuizzicalQuinnia Jaime does needlework: Hold This Threadbare Heart at Needlepoint by nire

Favourite action scene Words by astolat. The entire battle sequence.

Favourite dialogue Clean hands by Gwen77, Chapter 9. So cathartic, and SO MUCH HAPPENING. Not just J/B but Tyrion and Cersei on the phone too. I mean I just tried to re-read it to pick an excerpt (I can’t) and I already started crying lmao

Favourite characterization of Jaime A Man for All Seasons by dreadwulf. THE NUANCE. THE DETAIL.

Favourite characterization of Brienne Any fucking thing by Gwen77. Especially Clean hands, Diplomacy and Ice.

Favourite relationship development Where I follow, you’ll go by Lady_In_Red Beast and the Beast by SigilBroken, OBVIOUSLY It’s Like Weather by ssstrychnine Patience on a Monument by betts, even though they’re already friends, because betts makes me sit through Jaime/Sansa and Brienne/Tormund and yet I still re-read this.

Favourite use of non-typical character. Exclude these: Jaime, Brienne, Podrick, Hyle, Cersei, Sansa, Margaery, Tyrion, Daenerys, Selwyn, Tywin. Hmm this is a tough one. Maybe Loras the photographer in Living Fiction by Archetype_Electraheart

Favourite plot In This Light by SigilBroken for canon!verse endgame On the Night’s Watch by Miss_M and Everyone Has Secrets by ellaria for modern AU. I love J/B investigating stuff together.

Favourite title Nobody Knows / You Know and I Know by Miss_M “There’s a story,” Brienne says, “about a corrupt official who went to a sage and offered him to take part in a scheme, promising no one would ever know. ‘How can you say that?’ the sage replied. ‘I know, and you know, and the earth knows, and the sky knows.’”

Favourite WiP (finished or unfinished) With All Your Faults by seaspirit (close to the end!!!) The Descent by openmouthwideeye And this is finished but Tale As Old As Time by BrienneofThrace. She came back after like four years to finish it?! That alone is fandom magic.

Favourite long one-shot Pretty by astolat (wtf this is 30k?)

Favourite short one-shot OH MY GOD THE GLASSES FIC. Age Gap by ikkiM

Favourite drabble Mmmmm I don’t really read drabbles so I’ll skip this too.

Favourite beginning What is True, But Not Ideal by Vera: Jaime doesn’t appear for like four chapters and yet I was still on board.

Favourite ending IT’S FUCKING Clean hands by Gwen77 OKAY DON’T @ ME. Traveling Far by astolat – because she just Went There and gave J/B five kids The Sorrows That Women Cause by Mussimm (seventh and final part of Works and Days, in which they just... bang)

Favourite story twist more like the man you were meant to be by janie_tangerine. I mean, this isn’t really an internal twist, more like a twist on canon The Importance of Knocking by Miss_M, since it’s a story twist for Cersei lol.

Funniest story St George's Day by sansasparky The Best Legs You've Ever Seen by ikkiM

Favourite angst In the first version of this list I said I wouldn’t pick Gwen77 again for this one, and then I re-read Ice and cried my eyes out for like, the whole thing. Special mention for catherineflowers’ series We Need to Talk About…, because of how much she just commits entirely to some really dark stuff. It’s something I wouldn’t necessarily re-read, but just the audacity it took for her to write this is really impressive.

Favourite fluff The Higher Education of Brienne of Tarth and Drunken Shenanigans with Jaime and Brienne by BrienneofThrace. Anything by BrienneofThrace to be honest. She does the purest J/B. Also, Nothing That Is So, Is So by RoseHeart, and i get to be the other half of you + The 'Kiss Me' Series by sameboots.

Favourite Jaime line Yooooooo that part in Laying Siege by astolat when Jaime just launches into his wedding proposal: “I swear to you before these witnesses that I will protect Sansa Stark with my life, beside you. I will never take the field against her. I will take your name and your crest and your house as my own—”... I can feel myself being Brienne going WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

Favourite Brienne line Yeah yeah here I go picking Gwen77 again. The very last lines of all her fics always slay me, but this is the only line I can quote verbatim, from Diplomacy: “Trapped, he had said, worry in his voice. Ruined. She had never felt so free.”

Favourite general line or excerpt I love the way Gwen77 commits to the motif of walls in Ice. I freaked out about it here. And then after all that talk about Brienne building up her walls she just HITS US WITH THIS FINAL LINE:

“Jaime was hers, encircling, warm, solid as a wall. He would catch her if she fell.”

Favourite non-romantic fic The tale of Squire!Brienne series by LadyRhiyana

Favourite maiming adaptation in a modern AU Fever by Lady_In_Red, because I love how the whole story is built on Jaime learning how to ride again with a mangled hand

Favourite kidfic Not really a full-on kidfic, but You Know and I Know (sequel to Nobody Knows) for that Jaime & Tommen relationship, plus that conversation J/B have about having kids in future. Oh, and so brief, but Traveling Far by astolat.

Craziest scene that was in character and made sense (Don’t specify chapter) Let’s just go for the entirety of Stannis Baratheon, Fantasy Football League Commissioner by ikkiM AND THAT FUCKING J/B/C FIC THAT I READ BECAUSE I DIDN’T LOOK AT THE TAGS OKAY: Pride by astolat

Most underrated fic My Fall by TeamGwenee. Witches in 1600s colonial America AND in first person POV? IT WORKS THO. Such an interesting and original premise, and written in a very refreshing succinct style, and yet this multi-chapter fic has less than 200 kudos. Another one with less than 200 kudos: and you’ve whispered what I’m worth by angel_deux, a really lovely Mad Max: Fury Road AU.

Most desperate to see updated NO PRESSURE!!! for our world is cold and full of monsters by chancellor_valdez room service by ssstrychnine A Star Within the Mere by isavedlatin (sigh)

Favourite J/B as a secondary couple Some Kind of Family by crossingwinter

Most haunting Fool by astolat. I don’t know why. It’s a very beautiful story and it’s not even a bad ending for J/B necessarily, but the fact that it ends the way it does just really fucks me up. It’s the only fic in my bookmarks that I don’t think I can ever bear to re-read.

Favourite (friendship or hate) relationship between Jaime and another character One Of The Few Things by anniebibananie (Sansa) – I’m picking this just for the sheer I-can’t-believe-you-made-this-work-and-I-applaud-you factor

Favourite (friendship or hate) relationship between Brienne and another character What Is True, But Not Ideal by Vera (Tyrion)

#jaime x brienne fic recs #jb fav fics

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tiredandineffable · 5 years

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A Proposal

Now I’m Very behind on fictober, as this is still entry #7 (prompt: “Can you stay?”; I had to adapt this one slightly). This one just ended up being an immense entry for me with so much I wanted to throw in. It’s also quite possibly the longest single scene I’ve written in a good while.

This is a continuation of the past three entries (part 1, part 2, part 3). One part left, y’all!

A huge thank you to my amazing beta, @eunyisadoran, for all her amazing work! This chapter literally could not have been done without you!

Rated G.

Summary for the whole work: Aziraphale just wanted to get her parents off her back about her love life. She did not plan on falling in love with her best friend and fake girlfriend along the way. Nor did she plan on getting fake engaged. But such is life, she supposes. Ineffable wives, fake dating au that Escalates to fake engagement au. All around, a good time to be had.

..............................

2 Years Ago

“Did she say what she was looking for?” Mr. Eliot called, perching neatly on the stool behind the counter.

“Tolstoy. Zira dropped Sevastopol Sketches in the bath and she’s panicking because she teaches pre-Soviet literature this Monday, well before library hours,” Crowley explained, taking the stairs two at a time and all but throwing herself into the classic literature section. War and Peace, Anna Karinina, but where’s the rest? “Do you keep Tolstoy in Classic Lit, or is he under general fiction?”

“I’m afraid that whole second floor would be labeled classic literature if it contained everything I believed to be classic literature,” Mr. Eliot sighed. There’s the sound of another box of books landing on the counter and a smile tugs at Crowley’s lips. This place can’t fit any more books, but then he goes and buys them by the box full. “I keep popular Tolstoy works under classic literature, but Sevastopol Sketches is under politics. If it refuses to be found, I’ll come up. Can’t very well have you going home to Aziraphale empty handed, now can we?”

Crowley trailed her fingers along the spines, letting the warmth of the shop settle in as she worked her way to Politics. “Definitely can’t have that. I think the dissertation is already getting to her. You won’t believe how rude her advisor’s comments were. He claimed she was romanticising Oscar Wilde.”

When she found the book, the cover was torn and water damage had built up from what was likely years of reading in the rain, but it was legible and beggars can’t be choosers so close to a deadline. Knowing that nerd, she’ll probably just call it well-loved.

“Did the man not romanticize himself?” Mr. Eliot asked. “Was his entire life not one grand aesthetic movement? One decadence upon another?”

“Exactly!” Crowley wandered about the second floor, finding herself once again in classic lit. Victorian literature is comfortable, she realized, because it remains one of the only things she and Aziraphale share. She might never understand how a point in time so overstudied in literature could feel so personal, but it did, somehow. Ours, she thought, fingers trailing over a green spine with gold embossing.

“At times I wonder if this dissertation is about Wilde at all,” Aziraphale had said, closing her computer with the certainty of someone who has finished, but the sigh of someone who never will.

Crowley looked up from her book with a raised brow. “How is your dissertation on the translational history of Salome not about Wilde?”

“It’s so much more than that. The first English edition? Alfred translated it from Wilde’s French, even though Wilde could have easily translated it himself. To even accept its publication in Britain was to accept the censorship of its illustrations. It wasn’t true to the French version, the version Wilde himself had created. It was all a compromise,” she said. Aziraphale laid back on the carpet, short hair falling about her like a halo, and Crowley was acutely aware of the tightness in her own throat.

“But after Wilde’s death, Robert Ross took on the thankless job of purchasing back the rights on every one of Wilde’s works, including Salome," Aziraphale continued. "Cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars."

Crowley finally shut her book to lay beside her on the carpet, looking up to the ceiling to avoid staring right at her. Aziraphale was beautiful like this. Her usual perfect posture had been swapped out for a much more casual sprawl, a symbol of some unspoken trust. They'd seen the worst of each other, Crowley supposed, so letting her guard down made sense. "Seems like a lot of money to spend. Was he hoping for royalties?"

Aziraphale had lit up at the question, shaking her head and rolling onto her side to look at Crowley. "That's the thing. There was no promise the books would even still sell after the trial. But Oscar had hated some of the changes made for publishing and Ross decided to fix them after his death. Salome in particular. Robbie made sure the illustrations weren’t censored this time, confirmed that the cover was as self-indulgent in its beauty as Wilde would have wanted, took out Alfred's name. My dissertation focuses on the translation, sure, but it is a study in Ross’s choices, not Wilde’s.”

Crowley brushed her fingers along the cover, the floral pattern larger than life under her touch. A cover as decadent as Wilde would have wanted. The restored illustrations are in such direct opposition to turn-of-the-century rules of propriety that it's any wonder the uncensored form got published in Britain at all. From cover to cover, the only credit Crowley found was to Wilde; Alfred's ties to the play had been severed completely. Ross's choices.

It's a tribute, Crowley realized. In her hands is a testament to Ross's self-sacrificing love. It is the product of countless fights against King, country, and publishing houses until Ross was sure Wilde would have been pleased. All this done in the memory of a man who had never loved him back. A man who never would.

An act of self-sacrificing, unrequited love.

She paid for both books quickly and tried not to read too deeply into the purchase on the walk home.

……………….

Present day

“Don’t see why this couldn’t have waited,” Aziraphale said, brow raised to emphasize the edge of doubt in her words. Part of the benefit of their agreement was that they could toss ideas for their theses back and forth without having to worry about classes the next morning or Crowley’s commute back to her own apartment. That’s where they should be, sitting on Aziraphale’s bedroom floor, brainstorming or complaining about whatever it was they had to write next.

Instead, she’s sitting at the front door, straight-backed despite her exhaustion and tugging on her boots for an excursion that is likely not appropriate for the time of night. “It’s nine PM, Crowley. The bookstore closes in less than an hour and I am very certain that you can simply download Jekyll and Hyde online instead of harassing the bookshop owner who, quite frankly, is likely already at his wits’ end with regards to our visits. And it’s very unlike you to go out of your way to purchase a book.”

Crowley rolled her eyes, reaching over Aziraphale for her bag. “Firstly, download? What kind of English student are you? There’s no romance in sitting around with my eyes burning, reading on my computer like some amateur. There are notes to be made through the margins, stolen glances to be had over the top.”

“This isn’t Dead Poets Society, Crowley. I’m rather certain your romanticism is not worth the trouble to Mr Eliot.”

“He likes us, Zira. He’s probably bored. It’s why he always asks us about our theses and gives us discounts when we go.” She pauses then, squinting down at Aziraphale as she tugs on her sweater. “Wait. Are those my boots?”

Aziraphale considered it, looking down at the boots before getting up to smooth her skirt out. There are so many things she’d borrowed and so many things Crowley had borrowed in turn. “Likely. I don’t believe I remember buying them. Although that sweater is mine, so I’d say we’re evenly matched.”

Crowley shrugged, lips curling up in a way that leaves Aziraphale’s chest aching with fondness. She’s fond of the way Crowley turns and steps through the door, swaying as if she has both too many bones and not nearly enough. She’s fond of how Crowley all but swims in that sweater, of how she’s rolled the arms up neatly to the elbows in order to compensate for the size. Most of all, she’s fond of the unspoken intimacy they’ve cultivated over the years. She rarely lets herself dwell on that last part; no sense in misconstruing friendly actions for romantic ones when her feelings are so clearly not reciprocated.

The sweater suits Crowley, she supposes.

God, Zira, don’t focus on that either.

……………….

She stepped into the bookshop and immediately forgot why she had protested this book run. It is utterly deserted and blessedly quiet, filled only with the dusty scent of well-loved books. She has spent countless hours sitting amongst the books with Crowley, debating the potential symbolism of some minutiae of Atwood’s latest novel or the relevance of Orwell in modern society. The bookstore holds both her most infuriating and most beloved memories of Crowley, tucked comfortably between its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

In the middle of it all, Mr Eliot sits perched behind the counter, passively accepting the shenanigans and arguments with learned patience. He looks up as she and Crowley step in. “Ah, such illustrious visitors at such a late hour,” he says, looking up from a pile of collectible Beatrix Potter paperbacks. “May I help you find anything?”

Aziraphale shakes her head automatically, speaking before Crowley can start up an inevitably long conversation. There’s no sense in holding up Mr Eliot more than they already have. “No, no. Crowley simply forgot a book and insisted she needed it tonight. Apologies for the late hour. I assure you, we won’t be a bother.”

“Nonsense. You two are always welcome to come in,” he insists, returning his attention to the books, while Aziraphale turns hers to Crowley.

Crowley, to her credit, has made no move to engage Mr. Eliot in literary conversation. Rather, Crowley is already halfway up the steps, bounding up the stairs two steps at a time. How could anyone still be so enraptured by the subject of their dissertation after so many years? Aziraphale sighs, ignores the pang of jealousy, and ascends the stairs at a pace better suited to individuals who were not long-legged beanpoles. Maybe I should have focused on Victorian horror too.

Crowley looks over at Aziraphale as she finally reaches the top, a handful of books already in her lanky arms. All are clearly too large to be the sought-after Stevenson novella.

“How are there no copies of Jekyll and Hyde under classic lit?” Crowley asks, her shoulders back, and hips tipped a little too far forward. Forced nonchalance. Crowley’s tension is clearly the result of far more than just a misshelved book. Between the kiss and the proposal, Aziraphale has put too much on her shoulders and this is the result. Guilt settles into Aziraphale’s chest, stamping out the bookshop-induced calm.

“You check horror and I’ll check general fiction? It has to be here, Zira. I have to get this shit emailed to my advisor by the morning or he might literally crucify me.”

“We’ll find it, Crowley.” She bites her lip as she walks through the bookstore, finding her way through on muscle memory alone as she worries. Crowley had insisted it was fine, even talking her into the not-proposal. But Crowley always did this, sacrificing her mental health to save Aziraphale, and in the grand scheme of that week, it all made sense. Crowley had listened to the “80’s Songs for Self-Pitying Dumbasses” playlist no less than 14 times in half as many days on their shared account and Aziraphale, perhaps the true dumbass in this whole situation, had assumed Crowley was beating herself up over her latest publication draft. Aziraphale has to call this off. She can’t keep taking advantage of Crowley’s kindness.

Book first, sort-of-breakup second.

Stevenson should be an easy find. She brushes her fingers along the spines as she moves through the horror section. Jackson, Lovecraft, Poe, Rice, Shelley, Wilde.

Wilde?

She looks curiously at the misshelved book, running her thumb over gilded letters. Salome. The warm bookshop lighting illuminates the delicate gold floral pattern of the cover, brightens its soft green background, and Aziraphale’s hands shake not out of anxiety but out of overwhelming excitement. She flips through it with quick, light touches to the first few pages and inhales the words just as she exhales the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She skips over decadent illustrations, over publication details. And, impossibly, there it is.

A Note on “Salome” by Robert Ross.

“Crowley!”

“Did you find it?”

Something drops out as Aziraphale flips through the book, and she reaches for it just as Crowley turns the corner. She looks...hopeful, worried. Aziraphale looked down at the small envelope and then back up to Crowley, tears forming in her eyes because this is it, isn’t it? The proposal, ineffably cruel in its perfection.

Because it is perfect. It’s intimate and thoughtful and literary. She has no idea where Crowley would have found this edition in such perfect condition, nor does she have a clue how Crowley would have been able to afford it.

And then there’s the bookshop itself. It has borne witness to their very history, from the earliest days of whatever this is, cataloguing every laugh and shelving every fight. If this were real, if Aziraphale and Crowley had actually been together for three years and Crowley had proposed right then, things would be fine. Because the library would have been theirs. Ours.

It’s where I fell in love with you. With your red curls and your too-loud laugh and the way you complain about books with bad covers. Its where I realized that every bookshop felt too quiet without your commentary. Did you notice how I dragged you here whenever I felt like shit, because I wanted my favourite person in my favourite place? How I snuck glances at you while you read because I’ve spent every school holiday over three years just fighting the urge to kiss you against the shelves? I have ached and I have ached and I have ached for any of this to be real, for you to feel even an iota of the love I do for you. I have done so amongst these books, these shelves, and these words.

And now you mock me with it.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale sounds about ready to break and she knows it. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

Watching Crowley’s face in that moment is like watching a person simultaneously go through the five stages of grief. She wets her lips, parting them to say something but seemingly not finding the words, her brows furrowing only to smooth out. Instead, she stands frozen, sharp edges barely held together, quiet as if deciding how to act without pushing Aziraphale any further. She finally takes a step, tentative and awkward with stiff knees, looking down at her feet.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”

Aziraphale almost laughs despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Dearest Crowley, how the hell was it supposed to be, then? Had you intended to hurt me more, to make things worse? Was there some silly detail you missed that would have truly put the nail in this coffin? I can’t imagine there’s much else you can do to toy with my emotions. You truly did your homework, checked all the boxes. Bravo. Perfect show. You outdid yourself with this one.”

“Is that what you think this is? Do you think any of this has been easy for me?” Crowley’s entire demeanor has changed, her shoulders rising not with their usual anxiety but with the frustration that comes with years of suppressed hurt, exploding all at once. “I almost drove home three times this week because the thought of doing this and seeing you react the way I had imagined was excruciating.” Crowley reaches for the envelope on the ground and pockets it, not looking back as she walked down the stairs. “Congrats on somehow making it fucking worse.”

“Can’t you stay and address your mistakes like an actual adult?” Aziraphale calls back. She won’t give her the satisfaction of running after her.

“My mistakes?” Crowley stops on the last step at the bottom of the stairs. “Want to hear about my mistakes? I fell in love with you. Not even a year into this. I stayed because it wasn’t fair that you’d have to deal with your parents just because I got a crush. Then I stayed because I couldn’t risk losing my one shot at doing all the dumb little romantic shit that I wanted to do with you, even if it didn’t really mean anything. Then I stayed because I thought maybe, one day, it might actually mean something.” Crowley sighs, tugging her coat on a little tighter with her hands clenched in the fabric, her voice too thick. “So no, I won’t stay.”

“Would you stay if I said I did too?” Aziraphale doesn’t know where those words came from, how she spoke them so confidently despite her wet lashes and shaking hands. She takes a breath as she slowly works her way down the steps, leaning on the hardwood railing. Now she’s the one being overcareful, stopping a few steps short of where a tightly wound Crowley still stands. Aziraphale is suddenly very aware of how ready Crowley is to run.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, angel.”

Aziraphale laughs, short and bittersweet. “We were here one night, just upstairs. Mr. Eliot said we could stay as late as we wanted so long as we locked up before going home. You wanted to power through, finish up some presentation in time to get comments from your advisor because you insisted we should get some time to ourselves on this trip. So you sat there and you worked, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, really, because I kept thinking of what it would be like to crawl over and just kiss you. Which is ridiculous, because we’d kissed a handful of times that day for show. But I wanted…” She feels the curl of her lips, a breath escape between words. “I wanted to kiss you until you forgot about that presentation entirely. Until it meant something to us both.”

Crowley turns a bit towards her, wiping roughly at her face with shaky hands and God, even looking like an emotional wreck, Crowley is somehow the most beautiful person Aziraphale has ever seen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You could right now,” Crowley says, looking into the otherwise empty shop beside her in a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact. The soft hiccuping breaths, a remnant of some shouting they’ve both come to regret, have squandered any attempts at looking cool and collected. Crowley is trying all the same. “Kiss me, I mean.”

“Could I, hmm?” Aziraphale steps forward, her pinky reaching for Crowley’s own. Crowley, to her credit, takes her whole hand instead.

“Better do it fast or-”

There’s a little choked sound from Crowley as Aziraphale finally presses in, letting her hand tangle up in Crowley’s curls, pulling her in as she’d only dreamed of doing for...God, too damn long. Her lips press in hard, a little too eager, but neither of them is up for complaining when this is so long overdue, and it’s all more than smoothed over by Crowley’s tender brush of a thumb along Aziraphale’s cheek. She had imagined how this might feel before, extrapolating from the limited data of their meaningless embraces, but she’d never before noticed the little things: the cherry taste of Crowley’s lip balm, the way she somehow eternally smells like coffee, the way she miraculously manages to be tender and hurried all at once. Too much and not enough.

She pulls Crowley in tighter but miscalculates the trajectory, accidentally bumping their glasses together. They’re both laughing by the time they pull apart.

“Wanna get out of here?” Crowley asks. She’s a little a little dishevelled and a little breathless, but she’s still brimming with her trademark teasing and Aziraphale wouldn’t have it any other way.

Aziraphale hugs the book to her chest. “Wherever you want to go.”

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orbemnews · 3 years

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How Covid Survivors Are Finding Their Way Into Politics Pamela Addison is, in her own words, “one of the shyest people in this world.” Certainly not the sort of person who would submit an op-ed to a newspaper, or start a support group for strangers, or ask a United States senator to vote for $1.9 trillion legislation. No one is more surprised than her that, in the past five months, she has done all of those things. Her husband, Martin Addison, a 44-year-old health care worker in New Jersey, died from the coronavirus on April 29 after a month of illness. The last time she saw him was when he was loaded into an ambulance. At 37, Ms. Addison was left to care for a 2-year-old daughter and an infant son, and to make ends meet on her own. “Seeing the impact my story has had on people — it has been very therapeutic and healing for me,” she said. “And knowing that I’m doing it to honor my husband gives me the greatest joy, because I’m doing it for him.” With the United States’ staggering coronavirus death toll — more than 535,000 people — come thousands of stories like hers. Many people who have lost loved ones, or whose lives have been upended by long-haul symptoms, have turned to political action, seeking answers and new policies from a government whose failures under the Trump administration allowed the country to become one of the hardest hit by the pandemic. There is Marjorie Roberts, who got sick while managing a hospital gift shop in Atlanta and now has lung scarring. Mary Wilson-Snipes, still on oxygen more than two months after coming home from the hospital. John Lancos, who lost his wife of 41 years on April 23. Janis Clark, who lost her husband of 38 years the same day. In January, they and dozens of others participated in an advocacy training session over Zoom, run by a group called Covid Survivors for Change. This month, the group organized virtual meetings with the offices of 16 senators — 10 Democrats and six Republicans — and more than 50 group members lobbied for the coronavirus relief package. The immediate purpose of the training session was to take people who, in many cases, had never so much as attended a school board meeting and teach them to do things like lobby a senator. The longer-term purpose was to confront the problem of numbers. Numbers are dehumanizing, as activists like to say. In sufficient quantities — 536,472 as of Wednesday morning, for instance — they are also numbing. This is why converting numbers into people is so often the job of activists seeking policy change after tragedy. Mothers Against Drunk Driving, founded by a woman whose daughter was killed by a drunken driver, did that. Groups that promote stricter gun laws, like Moms Demand Action and March for Our Lives, have sought to do it. Now, some coronavirus survivors think it’s their turn. “That volume, that collective national trauma, is almost too hard for people to grasp,” said Chris Kocher, who is the executive director of Covid Survivors for Change and previously worked with gun violence survivors at Everytown for Gun Safety. “But you can understand one story and one life lived.” Mr. Kocher started organizing C.S.C. last summer — with a “minimal” budget, he said — and the group launched publicly in October with a remembrance event featuring Dionne Warwick. Shortly before they lobbied their senators on March 3, C.S.C. members heard from someone who was once in their position: Representative Lucy McBath of Georgia, who joined Moms Demand Action after her son, Jordan Davis, was killed in 2012. She discussed her own experience moving from a personal tragedy into political activism, and how survivors’ stories could influence elected officials. One C.S.C. member, Ms. Wilson-Snipes, 52, also worked with Moms Demand Action; she started a chapter in Junction City, Kan., after her son, Felix, was fatally shot in 2018. Then, in November, she got Covid-19 and was hospitalized with pneumonia. Ms. Wilson-Snipes came home on Christmas Eve with an oxygen machine, which she still needs. Her lungs are still inflamed, her chest still painful. While the policies she promoted with Moms Demand Action are different from the ones she and others are advocating with Covid Survivors for Change — like mask-wearing, and financial assistance for people affected by the virus — she said the message was the same: “You could be in my family’s shoes, in my shoes.” That was also the message Ms. Addison conveyed in an op-ed article after President Donald J. Trump contracted the coronavirus and told the nation, “Don’t be afraid of Covid.” That was the moment she became angry enough to speak, she said, because Mr. Trump’s words “were probably the most painful words I’d ever heard a leader say.” Updated March 17, 2021, 10:30 a.m. ET The Star-Ledger published Ms. Addison’s op-ed in October, and the intensity of the response shocked her. “I’d never really thought about it that way — that I could use my story to make change,” she said. She decided to create a Facebook group for newly widowed parents, and found her first members from comments on her op-ed. In January, she participated in the Covid Survivors for Change training. This month, she and other members in New Jersey spoke with Senator Cory Booker’s office. Another cohort spoke with the office of Senator Jon Ossoff of Georgia. One of them was Ms. Roberts, 60, the former gift shop manager with lung damage from the virus. “March 26 I woke up, I was fine,” Ms. Roberts said. “And by the time the sun went down that night, my whole life and my whole family’s life had been changed forever.” After the Ossoff meeting, she called Mr. Kocher in tears. In almost a year, she said, it was the first time she had felt heard. The political mobilization of coronavirus survivors is still in early stages, and it is impossible to know whether it will fade once the pandemic is over or solidify into something lasting. But Covid Survivors for Change is not the only group seeking long-term changes. Another organization, Marked by Covid — founded by Kristin Urquiza, who lost her father to the virus and spoke at the Democratic National Convention — recently released a sweeping policy platform. Among other things, it calls for a “public health job force” of a million people to perform tasks like contact tracing, a restitution program similar to the September 11th Victim Compensation Fund, and a commission to examine the government’s pandemic response. The platform also includes much more contentious proposals, like a federal jobs guarantee, universal health care and child care, medical and student debt cancellation, and a ban on importation of products linked to deforestation. Ms. Urquiza said the idea was to address factors that make pandemics more likely, and to make Americans economically secure enough to weather crises. “It’s really not only about ensuring that we are responding to the most urgent pieces that are in front of our face right now,” she said. Covid Survivors for Change, by contrast, has no official platform. Though the members who lobbied Congress did so in support of President Biden’s stimulus package, the group is nonpartisan and has focused on training survivors to promote policies they choose. Several members said the virus had drawn them into the political arena in ways that would have shocked them a year ago. Janis Clark, 65, said her husband, Ron Clark, had always been the politically active one. “Whenever he’d watch politics, it’d be like, ‘Here comes the half-hour dissertation,’” she said, laughing. “I’d get nervous about P.T.A. functions.” Mr. Clark died on April 23, after two weeks at home with a fever as high as 104 and more than three weeks on a ventilator. He never learned that his daughter was pregnant. Desperate for someone to understand what the virus’s toll really meant, Ms. Clark started writing. She wrote to Representative Paul Tonko, Democrat of New York, who represents her district around Albany. She wrote to Senators Chuck Schumer and Kirsten Gillibrand. She didn’t know they were unlikely to reply. “I just wanted somebody to hear my story,” she said. “And it was like, how do you reach these people? I don’t know what the right avenue is. I’d never written my congressman about anything.” In February, Ms. Clark signed an open letter that Covid Survivors for Change organized, urging senators to pass a relief package and calling for a reimbursement program for funeral costs and more medical resources for survivors. Now, she thinks she might do more — maybe even attend a demonstration once it’s safe. For some people, this feels like building something out of rubble. Mr. Lancos met his wife, Joni Lancos, when he was a National Park Service interpreter at Federal Hall in Manhattan and she was a clerk working on the third floor. Their first date was Nov. 3, 1977. He took her to a Broadway show featuring the Danish pianist Victor Borge. Last April, 41 years and 15 days after their wedding and less than 18 hours after her first symptoms, she died in a Brooklyn I.C.U. There was no memorial service, not when the streets of New York City were screaming day and night with the sirens of ambulances carrying the dying. So Mr. Lancos, 70, sifted through the wreckage of grief and his own infection — which left him with brain fog and short-term memory loss — in isolation. The funeral home sent him five photos of a rabbi praying over his wife’s coffin. “That was it,” Mr. Lancos said through tears. “That was my funeral for my wife, seeing those five photos.” On March 3, he was one of the Covid Survivors for Change members who spoke with the office of Mr. Schumer, the Senate majority leader. Afterward, he recorded a short message for a video. “I think Joni would —” he said, pausing to taking a steadying breath, “be proud of what I did today.” Source link Orbem News #Covid #finding #Politics #Survivors

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nettheworldonfire · 4 years

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If the Genes Fit, Test Them.

It’s been 2 weeks since I’ve last posted. Somewhere between the drama and chaos that was diagnosis, first treatment, and weaning my 6.5 month old external tumor, and now the end of life as we know it (also known as COVID-19), I just didn’t have much to say, or much time to say it.

So while Charlie is sleeping, and Olive is screaming at me in her typical zombie-esque growl and tossing each toy I give to her on the ground, repeatedly, I’ll painstakingly stop and start this post, until I’ve given a short update about all that has been going on.

Genetic Counseling Update: On Wednesday I spoke to a genetics counselor over the phone. I was supposed to go in, but the appointment was modified due to COVID-19 and we took care of everything via phone. The counselor’s name was Stephanie and she was extremely kind and informative. She called me promptly at 8 am and the call lasted almost exactly one hour, like she said it would. (I kind of wish all appointments were this easy.) They are sending me out a saliva swab kit to test my DNA. The kit should arrive within a week, I’ll send it back out, and I should have those results within a month. Easy peasy.

Stephanie said that about 10% of neuroendocrine tumor patients are genetically predisposed to getting cancer. While only about 1 of those percents are people with my type of neuroendocrine tumors, due to my family history, they think it is smart to check. On my mother’s side, I have a second cousin who also has pancreatic neuroendocrine tumors and liver metastasis (she recently started Lanreotide injections, too). Additionally, my mother’s father had a neuroendocrine tumor on his spine, near the nape of his neck, which they assumed was was not cancerous, even though it was fatal. He was diagnosed in the 70s though, and then Neuroendocrine tumors were thought to not be cancerous because of how slow-growing they are. When I was diagnosed 8 years ago, we tried to access his records from his more recent Jefferson hospital stays/surgeries (he passed away in the early 2000s) but we were not able to obtain them. Anyway - that is enough to make this a fishy scenario. And in the words of the counselor, “reasonable to think there is an underlying genetic predisposition.”

While the most important reason for genetic testing right now is to find out if my immediate family may also be at risk for these type of tumors, it can also be helpful to know what treatments may be beneficial. If an underlying genetic cause is found, it would trigger two things - testing for my mother and brothers, and testing for my children. A genetic predisposition has a 50/50 chance of being passed to your children, so therefore, if I have it (presumably from my mother, since it’s on that side of the family) it would typically indicate that she does and my brothers and children have a 50/50 chance of having it, too. There is yet a third consideration though - which is that it is a NEW genetic predisposition started with ME. Apparently, there are 10 new genes in each baby, that did not come from either mother or father, meaning that issues like these can start with anyone, at any point (crazy, huh?).

They told us that this testing, if not covered by insurance, costs $250 per person - something I think is worth it, in the long run. I don’t think they would test my children now, but they said they would fairly early - and if they also have the gene - they would be followed/scanned regularly to ensure there are no tumors. Definitely not the sort of thing you want to have passed down to the kids (I think they would prefer a family fortune, or a shorehouse) - so fingers crossed that I don’t have this gene and it’s all just a horribly shitty coincidence.

Adventures of Olive in Formula-land Update: My (adorable) hungry, hungry hippo is now taking 25-30 ounce of formula daily, from a regular medela bottle with a disposable enfamil nipple (go figure), like a freaking champion. This girl can eat. She is so proud of her bottle-loving self, that she gets up three or four times a night to show me how much she loves her fancy formula. Luckily, she is four months away from regular old milk (or an abundance of yogurt and cheese, the route Charlie opted for) and we can stop spending $30 a week on her elitist beverage of choice. I joke, but really I am thrilled that the horror of weaning is over. That nearly killed me. And in more personal news, I didn’t even have to pump that long, didn’t really get sore, and have pretty much stopped producing much at all - so that is a literal relief.

University Update: After learning I was locked into paying for the course I had started a few days before my diagnosis, I was annoyed and anxious about what was the best course of action. I decided that it would be better, for the purposes of my sabbatical (and needing to complete a certain amount of my program to meet the requirements of my district and not owe them back what I’ve earned this year) to struggle through the course, versus withdrawing, if we were paying for it either way. So that’s what I did. But, but rather than struggle through the course, I just kind of didn’t do anything. I felt overwhelmed even thinking about it, so it was easier not to. And I didn’t. This past week, as week 8 (the final week) of my course began, I discussed my options for salvaging the course, so that I might at least “pass” with my chairperson. She was accommodating and understanding, and now with even more craziness in the world, sympathetic. She and I discussed a minimalist approach to completing back-work and hitting the milestones I missed in the last few weeks, so that I could still get some late credit. I felt like so many of my students, basically asking, “What is the very least amount of work I can do and still pass your class?” I suppose what goes around, comes around?

I started working my dissertation proposal again Thursday and will have more to work on this weekend - but should be able to pull off a small miracle. I did send a crass email to the finance department and will likely be taking a hiatus from the program, as I am not sure where to go from here. While I want to finish this dissertation and accomplish what I set out to -- I also just don’t give an eff at this point, and may want to spend the tiny bits of spare time I have doing things that make me genuinely happy. After all, you only live (or die) once, and If the last two months say anything about life, well - that’s enough to scare anyone into treating each day as your last.

Side-effects Update: After my first injection, I felt okay for awhile, then got extremely tired for about two hours. Later that night, I was quite nauseous and vomited a couple times. By the next day, I felt a little wonky and sick - but overall, not terrible (more like a bad hangover). Within two or three days, I think I felt normal again (what is normal anyway?). Even now, almost three weeks later, I can still feel a bulbous spot in my upper butt cheek and from time to time it is sore. I can definitely see why they recommend doing the injection on alternate sides. The specialty pharmacy called me this week and everything is set up for my shot to arrive at Dr. Rose’s office sometime next week. He should be back to work on Monday and I am hoping he calls me with next steps/ideas. The only thing I know for sure is that I need to get blood work next week and I am not looking forward to sitting at Labcorp and germ swapping with my Abington area neighbors, but I will be careful.

Anxiety Update: I started a daily dose of 5 mg of Lexapro about the same time as I started the Lanreotide - I think I have been on it for 25 days maybe. I can’t really tell if I feel a difference because everything has calmed down a bit, and we have a plan of action to tackle this cancer and I am not actively writing my dissertation - or if the medication is working? Hard to say. I do feel better(ish), minus the impending shitstorm that is COVID-19 lurking around every corner. My doctor, however, didn’t think I was any more susceptible than a normal 37 year old, so that was the good news. The bad news is, that if they start making triage decisions based on health - metastatic cancer is one of the things that means you don’t get a ventilator - so I better watch my back (and wash my hands, and not touch my face, and all that jazz). We’re socially distanced though, and other than my appointments, we will remain that way until things are less deathy out there.

Options Update: I am assuming that the whole COVID-19 thing has changed his thoughts on doing the embolization in April, and since Dr. Teitelbaum felt it was something we could hold off on, I think that may be the route we go now. I don’t even know if they would do it, or if it would be considered elective. Not that anyone would elect to go through this, but you know. Hoping I will have a conversation with him on Monday to sort this all out. Til then...

* Dark side: Quarantine, still, and maybe forever.

* Bright side: A lull in posts means a lull in “activity” means a lull in bad news - I’ll take it! * Next steps:

3/30/20 - Conversation with Dr. Rose about the plan of action

4/1/20 - 10:00 a.m. - Bloodwork at Labcorp

4/6/20 (tentatively) - next Lanreotide injection (I forgot to write down the time!)

* Sciencey GIF:

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buzzkillmag · 4 years

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2019 WRAPPED: a few contributors’ (and my) records of the year

in order of release, here are some of our contributors’ albums of the year, alongside my extremely extensive list of my favorite LPs released in the past 365 days.

1. january 18, heard it in a past life by maggie rogers

this album, without a doubt, shaped this entire year for me, but whenever i’m asked to explain how, or why, i get choked up. at the time of its release, i was in such a strange place mentally that i couldn’t listen to “light on” - one of the most popular songs on the album - without sobbing uncontrollably, even if that meant excusing myself to cry in the restroom when it came on at work. i am so grateful to have had hiiapl to grow with this year. maggie rogers is one of the most influential artists in the world right now, and i know this album is a lot of people’s record of the year. recommendations: light on, burning, on + off, the knife

2. january 25, amo by bring me the horizon

the return of british metalcore band bring me the horizon was such a heavily anticipated one, given the fact that their last LP release was in 2015, but i don’t think anyone could have expected the record they were going to release, or how different it would be from anything they’d ever made. bring me the horizon made a really impressive leap into something of an unknown; there has been, both unfortunately and understandably, some backlash regarding exactly what genres the band had decided to experiment with and whether they’d lost their roots in deathcore. but they’ve promised that despite this jump, they’ll still be as rowdy as ever in their live shows. amo is one of my favorite records of the year because of its genre-bending, and because of its desperation and emotion. it’s turned bring me the horizon from a band i never really cared for into one i now seek out when i’m thinking of what to listen to on drives. recommendations: mantra, in the dark, sugar honey ice + tea, mother tongue

3. february 1, midnight by set it off

my favorite record of 2019 is midnight by set it off. not only did the band completely reinvent their aesthetic, they also showcase a more mature and cohesive sound. cody (the lead singer) is a classically trained clarinetist and I think his knowledge of music really shows on this record. each song has little surprises here and there, and shows the work of musicians who understand rhythm and texture. there’s a little something for everyone, from the angsty undertones of “killer in the mirror” and “dancing with the devil,” to the raw, beautiful emotion of the ballad “unopened windows.” hands down best record of 2019! -gabriela (twitter || instagram)

4. march 1, wasteland, baby! by hozier

I wish I could do my dissertation on the various ways Wasteland, Baby! is a masterpiece but unfortunately I'm in a museum studies program and I don't think my professors would accept that proposal. Hozier was somehow able to fit every emotion a human being is capable of feeling in a mere 57 minutes (and 21 seconds of course) and, by the end, has made the listener feel warm and hopeful despite a large theme being, y'know, the literal ending of everything. Don't even get me started on his referencing and imagery we could be here FOREVER talking about Shrike alone! Even Spotify was like "Hey this is literally all you listened to this year, you good?". Hozier and Wasteland, Baby! have been through one of the toughest years of my life with me - including the transition into a new country - and they will forever have a place in my heart. -alissa (instagram)

5. march 22, mystic truth by bad suns

up until this year - and this release - bad suns were always a background artist in my life. i’ve been listening to them since they first released “cardiac arrest” and it was a single of the week on itunes, but only casually. this was, however, the year i saw them live, on their mystic truth tour in late spring. recommendations: away we go, the world and i, love by mistake

6. march 29, you are ok by the maine

the maine are the most dramatic band in the world, and i love them to death for it. after staging a funeral for their 2017 release, lovely little lonely, in october 2018 to signify their departure from social media, they spent nearly six months in silence to write and record before releasing their seventh record, you are ok, this past march. this record makes me more - for lack of a better word - emo than any of their previous work, in spite and as a consequence of its blatant deviation from the loneliness of anything they’ve released pretty much since black & white. you are ok is, from its very first breath, evolved. recommendations: slip the noose, my best habit, tears won’t cry (shinju), heaven we’re already here

7. march 29, when we all fall asleep, where do we go? by billie eilish

the debut full-length from music prodigy billie eilish was long-awaited by dedicated fans and the general public alike, and when it finally dropped in march of this year, not a single person on this planet was disappointed (probably a hyperbole and consequently bad journalism, but who cares, i never claimed to tell the whole entire truth). when we all fall asleep is a genre-defying masterpiece; the tracks don’t feel as if they should be played on the radio, but because of eilish’s more mainstream previous releases, she’d essentially earned a permanent slot in most popular stations’ rotations. i also had the privilege of watching her play to one of the biggest crowds that reading festival’s main stage had ever seen, and she blew myself (and everyone else there) away. recommendations: xanny, all the good girls go to hell, when the party’s over, my strange addiction, bury a friend

9. april 26, the balance by catfish and the bottlemen

despite criticisms that they’ve been making the same album for five years, i genuinely believe that with every new release, catfish and the bottlemen produce more emotionally coherent and intelligent music. i finally got to see them this year, on their tour supporting the balance, too, after years of casual listening. the balance turned me into a ravenous catfish fan; i spent two months after the show devouring all of the content surrounding them i could find, listening to all three of their albums on repeat, and crying endlessly over how beautiful van mccann is. this album absolutely defined the back half of my 2019, and i’m always shocked to learn that there are people who don’t love it as fiercely as i do. i have such an overflowing fountain of feelings about this album that i’m still not entirely sure how to write about, but all i have to say is that, if you haven’t yet, please please please give this album a spin. recommendations: fluctuate, conversation, intermission, overlap

10. may 24, future dust by the amazons

the amazons are the best band i discovered this year, hands down. according to my spotify year in review, i listened to over 9 hours of their music since seeing them at reading in august (not including all the times i spun this record on vinyl in that time as well). future dust is a masterpiece; there is not one bad track; every time i listen to it, it gets better. they’ve got rock and roll on lock. no one else has come close since maybe the arctic monkeys, but the amazons have brought it back. i’m having a hard time stringing together words about the way this record makes me feel, but i hope that you’ll see this, listen to it top to bottom six or seven times, and make your own feelings about it. recommendations: mother, fuzzy tree, black magic, 25, doubt

11. june 14, doom days by bastille

i will probably forever hate myself for falling out of love with bastille after i graduated high school. i’m not entirely sure what happened (actually, i am - i was shoved too far up the maine’s ass to care about anything else) but i know that i loved them more than anything when i was a teenager, and the doom days album cycle - specifically their reading set - reignited that love, so i’ll be forever grateful to it for that. this album is conceptual and amazing, set over the course of one night when the writer - presumably frontman dan smith, whose brain this came out of - attends a party with his friends in an attempt at escapism. the world is fucked - dan’s words, but also mine - and sometimes we really do just need to pull the wool over our own eyes for once and let loose, even if just for a night. it starts at a “quarter past midnight,” when the night has only just begun, endless possibilities stretched out ahead of him, and finishes with “joy,” about waking up on the kitchen floor, your phone going off in your hand, the only person who really matters in your life on the other end of the line. bastille have always released music that makes it clear that they give a fuck what happens to earth and her people, and with doom days, they’ve perfected that sound. recommendations: quarter past midnight, divide, million pieces, joy

12. august 23, GINGER by brockhampton

after a brief hiatus, my favourite all-american boyband returned with their fifth studio album, GINGER. with a noticeably matured and somewhat mellowed shift within the hip-hop collective, this record explores themes of grief and disconnection to the backdrop of upbeat melodies such as on "boy bye" and sweet love songs such as on "sugar". though perhaps my favourite sentiment on this record lies within the fact that it opens with the echoed words, "I don't know where I'm going," and closes poignantly with the heartfelt statement, "Thank God that I'm built for the distance." -katy (twitter | instagram)

13. september 13, hypersonic missiles by sam fender

hypersonic missiles, the debut full-length from geordie singer-songwriter-maestro sam fender, was my most anticipated release this year. fender has faced a mess of obstacles this year, mostly health-related, after winning the BRIT awards’ critics’ choice award at the start of it, and as a result has had to cancel a majority of the shows he’d had schedules and push back the release of hypersonic missiles a whole month. it was well worth the wait, though, and i ended up writing an essay-length review of it for highlight magazine when i finally did get to hear it. filled to the brim with emotional ballads and belters alike, hypersonic missiles is a culmination of over five years of songwriting and even longer of sam being fed up - with his government, with his peers, with the misrepresentation of mental health by the media. we’ve only had this record for three months, but i can already tell it’s timeless. i’m only hoping sam’s voice recovers enough that he can continue to tour to promote it before returning to studio (reportedly the electric lady in new york city!) to record his second release. recommendations: hypersonic missiles, white privilege, you’re not the only one, will we talk?, two people

14. september 13, pride & disaster by sleep on it

my favorite record of the year is undoubtedly ‘Pride & Disaster’ by Sleep On It. Pride & Disaster arrived the perfect time for me, as I just transferred out of college. I felt lost and unsure of my future. However, listening to Pride & Disaster gave me a sense of hope and support that I’ll be okay on my new journey. -julie (twitter)

15. october 4, interrobang by bayside

Just like the title, there's no single form of punctuation that can explain the brilliance of this album. 'Interrobang' takes the classic Bayside sound to a new level with heavier riffs, faster time signatures, and iconic lyrics. From "Heaven," a stand out anthem for aging punks in the scene to "Bury Me," a melodic metal inspired breakout track, this album is laced together perfectly with both the past and future of Bayside. By tip toeing the line between metal, alt rock, and pop punk, the band has shown that even after almost twenty years as a band, they can still innovate and transform with new music. -katie (twitter | instagram)

16. december 13, fine line by harry styles

i wanted to include this in this roundup, considering i haven’t stopped listening to it since it came out (and i saw him live!), but i did also write an entire review of the album. you can read it here!

honorable mentions (aka albums i didn’t feel like writing an essay about - or just didn’t listen to all that much - but still think you should give a chance)

1. swmrs, berkeley’s on fire (february 15, 2019) 2. circa waves, what’s it like over there? (april 4, 2019 - i wrote a whole review about this record for highlight and not many of my feelings about it have changed since then.) 3. cage the elephant, social cues (april 19, 2019) 4. ten tonnes, ten tonnes (may 3, 2019) 5. palace, life after (july 12, 2019) 6. clairo, immunity (august 2, 2019) 7. the myserines, take control ep (august 8, 2019) 8. muna, saves the day (september 6, 2019) 9. from indian lakes, dimly lit (october 18, 2019)

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makingoutinyour30s · 6 years

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back like i never left

Dear A;

Well, here we go again, girl. Glad to be back in the heart-eye headspace for a little bit. If only there was a way to remind myself during non-heart-eye headspace that it’s always just around the corner. Take a breather, girl! This world is full of cool dudes!

I had already mentioned that DD7 was leaving the country for three weeks starting Friday. Except that last night he realized he was actually leaving Wednesday and had fucked up his scheduling. Oh no! This meant that, selfishly, we had an abbreviated week to work with. And, logistically, he suddenly needed to get his life in order in 36 hours. I asked if I was allowed to say that I still wanted to see him before he left (too bold of a request after only being on two dates?). He said not a problem and we met for coffee this afternoon.

So, A., we know that I was “figuring this out” for the last two dates. I was interested. But I was definitely figuring it out. I also mentioned that he was in more of a habit than previous suitors of giving me affectionate touches. But during those first two dates there were also a few times he touched me that I felt ... uncomfortable? That’s not quite the right word, but it’s the best I can come up with. My skin wasn’t tingling for him. But in the days after our second date I started thinking about him more. I started lining up our interests and seeing how we could spend days and weekends together. And last night, when I realized there was only one day left to see each other before he left, I was all in for canceling on a date with DD4 to see him. Not a problem.

We meet for coffee in his neighborhood around noon. He beats me there and when I walk in and see him sitting at the counter my stomach flips. And it’s great. And it’s like he’s suddenly become several shades more attractive to me and I kinda can’t stop looking at him. We smile a lot at each other. He does this cute thing where we’ll kind of gaze at each other quietly for a few moments and he’ll say, “Hey.” I lean in for a few kisses. He thanks me multiple times for coming out with him. I’ve spent three days and two nights with this fella over the course of one week and I realize that I will miss him when he’s gone.

A. Why on earth did I wait so long to meet up with him? This should be a reminder of some sort for the future. Don’t write people off (though I hadn’t quite written him off ...) so soon. Great texters have been let-downs. Mediocre texters have been surprises.

So. Now we wait. He walked me to my car afterward. He said he could be in touch while he was gone and I told him I’d love to hear from him. After our first date I was looking forward to him going away so I could think on this. Now I’m a little bummed out. And I’m hoping I can keep my brain safe during these three weeks. There is very good reason to believe this boy will come back looking forward to seeing me, the same way I will be looking forward to seeing him. But my brain will work to slowly dismantle this whole thing, assuming it was a fluke and that his time away has given him space to realize we’re not a good match. In many ways these three weeks should pass quickly. Friends in town visiting, holidays, wrapping up the University and high school quarters, parties, normal nights out, and working on my dissertation proposal. But to all my friends reading this, I apologize in advance for making you listen to me second guess this for the next three weeks.

And, at least for right now, let’s turn on some good tunes and revel in how funny life and time can be.

xo, S.

youtube

#DD7

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crimeshowtrash · 7 years

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A Whole New World

Spencer Reid x Reader

For Anon who requested - “ could you write something with Reid and the reader going to disneyland? Maybe include the team too? Just pure fluff. :) Thank you!” I didn’t include the team but I hope you like it anyways!

Spencer had been waiting for a week like this one his whole life. A week with no phone calls or text messages from Garcia. No Avengers assembling. Just a week of absolute relaxation with Y/N. He had already told the people he was closest with that this week was when he would take the plunge. He went shopping with JJ for the perfect ring. He had everything all planned out.

Spencer and Y/N were absolutely perfect for another. They had met at the park where Y/N had beaten him at chess. He was flabbergasted the second she uttered the words “checkmate”. That moment was when he knew that he had to get to know her. And ever since then their lives had been absolutely perfect. Y/N was as sarcastic as he was awkward. She had as many tattoos as he had degrees. She was as abnormally clumsy as he was shy. On the other hand the two were both so selfless. They both were so caring and loving that they often times forgot to take care of themselves. They both loved each other wholeheartedly. They both wore their hearts on their sleeves. They both loved reading. They both had given themselves ulcers from drinking too much coffee while working on their dissertations. They were totally different people but they worked.

The two had been planning a week long trip to Disney World, ever since Y/N found out that Spencer hadn’t been to her absolute favorite place on earth. She couldn’t wait to take cheesy pictures with Mickey Mouse and the Princesses. She longed to show him her favorite ride, the Mad Tea Party. She wanted to create memories with Spencer that would last them a lifetime.

Y/N was ecstatic for the trip while Spencer was more nervous than he was when he had Anthrax poisoning and gotten shot combined. He had decided to propose on the first day there. They had just gotten to the hotel, Disney’s Polynesian Villas and Bungalows, and dropped off their luggage before heading to the bus which would take them to Magic Kingdom.

Spencer happily took pictures of Y/N with Mickey Mouse and Pluto. They went on Space Mountain while Spencer pointed out the flaws in the science. Spencer and Y/N walked around Sleeping Beauty’s cottage where Y/N was excitedly telling him about Aurora and Phillip. Spencer just held her hand and listened not bothering to attempt to tell Y/N that he knew the fairy tale. He would do anything to see her smile, her eyes shining with happiness and excitement. They got matching Mickey and Minnie ears at a gift shop. They took pictures with the Genie, one of Y/N’s favorite Disney characters. They got a caricature taken with Y/N being Jasmine and Spencer being Aladdin. Spencer and Y/N managed to do everything they wanted to. Spencer, although he didn’t tell her then, just did whatever Y/N wanted. Seeing her happy was all he needed to make this trip memorable.

That night Spencer had a dessert cruise on the Seven Seas Lagoon booked for the two. It had just gotten dark when the ship had set sail. As the ship left the port the pianist started to play Bella Note, a Disney classic, and coincidentally Y/N’s favorite song.

“Spencer, you didn’t have to do this” exclaimed Y/N, her voice oozing with glee.

“Yes I did Y/N. I would do anything to see you smile” said Spencer smiling at his hopefully future wife.

The two sat at the table they were seated to before the waiter brought them champagne and a massive slice of cheesecake.

“What’s this for?” asked Y/N. The waiter just smiled knowingly before leaving.

“What was that? Wait, why are your hands shaking?” questioned Y/N, her thoughts now directed to Spencer.

“Y/N, you know I love you right?” asked Spencer.

“Of course I know that Spencer, I love you too” replied Y/N looking at Spencer with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Dammit, I had this entire speech prepared but I can’t remember it now. Y/N, the day we met was one of the best days of my life and each day after that with you has been a dream. I love everything about you. How you read to me when I’ve come back from a difficult case. How you get along with my friends and my mom. How you straighten my ties every morning before I leave. I love how you wake up to say goodbye to me even if it’s 3 in the morning. The one thing that would make me happier is if you would be my wife so that we can start a whole new world together” said Spencer as he got down on one knee and took out the ring.

Y/N with tears streaming down her face nodded before saying, “Yes, of course I’ll marry you”.

Spencer took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her left hand ring finger as people in the background cheered. Y/N, with her converse clad feet, stood on her toes to press her tear stained lips to Spencer’s. As their lips eagerly collided, their cheeks flushed and their breaths deepened. Spencer and Y/N could see camera’s flash in their peripheral views and fireworks sparkling in the night sky but none of that mattered to the two, one entangled in the loving arms of the other.

A/N I hope you like this anon! I finish Final’s on the 23rd so after that I will be free to write more! Send in any requests you have and I hope ya’ll enjoy!

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itsnotnicetosnooponpeople · 5 years

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well that was fucking wild

not sure how much of this is going to make any sense at all, but i only slept 5 hours last night and my brain is properly useless right now. I just wanted to ramble a little bit about the dissertation madness, now that the dust has properly settled (Though i sometimes catch myself stepping back for a moment and still being in awe that I did that. I did that and I’m somehow here in the after. After the before. The post-submission after. Wild!!!).

Some things that really stood out for me during this whole mad journey. I chose the risky option! Relatively. So when you read my report, it doesn’t scream risky at all. But perhaps it’s my anxiety-addled mind, but i do feel like my choice of topic was the root of my stress and significance of this project on a more personal level. By the end of the summer, I had been matched up with a professor who does voice research. While that was a safe choice on my part to begin with, it soon struck me that to write 11,000 words, I needed something more than safe. I needed something I had a real investment in, that would truly motivate me to keep going even when I wanted to say “fuck it”. So, while I dabbled at some ideas on forensic psychology and voice (guilt, jury decision-making, etc.), I eventually settled on the idea I wanted to do something somewhat related to the #MeToo movement, something I am so deeply interested in. This was risky on so many fronts-- my project basically calls into question moral and legal implications of the intersection of individual agency and social influence, a political minefield I had to adopt an impartial stance on. It did not seem like a topic my supervisor had any particular investment in, it seems. Which is fine, but when I heard of other supervisors actively proposing replications of their previous studies, it felt like other students were being given a template of how a research study should be, while I was out foraging for my own structure with very little guidance.

Honestly.... I know I’m only at part 1 but I’m exhausted. Might return to this, but no promises. Truth is that I loved my topic, I loved its ambition, it’s potential. But after a while, looking at it over and over made it all feel very dumb and insignificant. Does anyone else care about this? Do I still care about this? I kept reminding myself the excitement I had about it at the start, before the truly tedious work started, which helped a lot. I thought about the research other people were doing: Was I going to be happier doing any of their other topics rather than mine? Or is this just a symptom of my exhaustion? In the end, I settled on the idea that my dissertation was an extremely needy child. I fucking love u!!! but u r literally sucking the life out of me right now. I need a break and with that, my love for u will be a lot more evident. but right now, locked in the same fucking room as u for months and months, i don’t really want to look at you at all, if I can afford it. But of course, that’s the joy of writing a long-ass write-up! YOU CAN’T. It will DIE. YOUR BABY WILL DIE. SO YOU CAN’T STAND THE SIGHT OF IT BUT U KEEP CARING FOR IT SECOND AFTER SECOND BC U LOVE IT STILL. this baby metaphor’s gonna make me so uncomfy when i reread this post in the future, wow. okay.

After submissions, I was DONE with it. Looking at it made me sick. I spotted typos, I doubted everything about it. Was it as meaningful as I thought it was? Am I making dinner or am I a toddler with my cooking playset, desperately clutching onto plastic utensils in my stupid make-believe world? I was sure I was going to be slammed with a terrible grade, I had not made the detailed, grammatical edits I wanted to. My font was not cohesive. Capitalisation was arbitrary at points. Fuck this!!!! I hate my baby and the world is going to hate my baby to and me by extension.

Then I got my grade back and though I felt somewhat undeserving because of all the aforementioned, I was very pleased with it. It’s an objectively good grade. So I don’t fucking know anymore and wow. I’m tired. Gonna end this now!!! phew

but also today i’m grateful for kendrick lamar’s articulate anger. that is all. thank you.

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fifteenleads · 7 years

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well, he has his moments.

@viktorweek day four: family/friends

Viktor Nikiforov can be both endearing and annoying all at once, but it’s exactly these qualities that have captivated people’s hearts in more ways than one.

(Five moments in Viktor’s life, as told by other people.)

AO3 | stories on (and off) ice

Yuri should have known when Viktor shoved the tub of ice cream and kitty treats into his hands.

"Please please please watch Makkachin for me!" the old goof all but pleaded, his hands clasped together like those silly anime girls and his puppy-dog eyes welling up and threatening to spill over any moment. He sure is upfront with his requests, if anything, and Yuri wouldn't be surprised if this sudden favor he's asking has something to do with --

"Yuuri and I are going out on a date tonight! It's the most perfect Valentine's Day ever!"

-- Fucking called it.

It was so obvious at this point, he didn't know why he even bothered.

The large poodle bounding over and tackling him didn't help things, either, and his face is all sticky from the mutt's slobbering saliva, and it's so disgusting as fuck, and Katsudon is now peering in from the doorway, and --

"Fine, already!" Yuri snapped, throwing his hands up in irritation. "I'll keep it until you come back, okay? Just get the hell out of here!"

Katsudon and Viktor couldn't be out the door sooner enough. The teen chased them to the veranda and hollered at them not to be late.

The pair returned at three o'clock in the fucking morning, one very much intoxicated and the other very much covered in - ugh, hickeys.

Really, he didn't know why he even bothered.

ii.

Yakov should have known when Vitya asked for the rink to be closed off the day after tomorrow.

His student is quite the whimsical man, always doing as he pleases and never (for once!) listening to his sensible coach's sound advice -- not when he decided to add four quads into his program, not when he suddenly dropped his whole skating career to coach Yuuri Katsuki, not when he just-as-suddenly made his comeback, insisting on coaching and competing against said Japanese skater at the same time.

And especially not when he plans on proposing to Katsuki over a romantic, candle-lit dinner on the ice.

"Isn't it a great idea, Yakov?!" Vitya enthused, his eyes practically shining with excitement. "We'll dance together after dinner, and then I'll ask him to marry me!"

Frankly, Yakov thought his protégé could have come up with something better. Still, he has no intention of dashing the younger man's hopes with an honest remark.

"Surely, you prepared very well for this?" he asked instead. "It is quite an ambitious plan, if you ask me."

"Oh no, it's not as grand as yours was," Vitya teased (and Yakov winced because it's true), "but I already have everything down, no worries. All that's left is to pop the question."

He then grinned earnestly, a luminescent shade of powder pink coloring his cheeks. There are times the coach doesn't understand how Viktor Nikiforov can be both endearing and annoying all at once, but it's exactly these qualities that have captivated people's hearts in more ways than one, himself included.

That said, today was the proudest Yakov was yet of his silly (but nonetheless star) student.

And he hated to ruin the moment, but --

"I thought you are both already engaged?"

"Then I'll propose to him again! Yuuri deserves nothing but the best."

-- Katsuki should have married this man years ago.

iii.

Christophe should have known when Viktor came in wearing a different brand of lip gloss.

(Or rather, a certain someone's lip balm.)

He never thought he'd see the day Viktor would use a cosmetic product other than the expensive ones he owns (and if all those commercial endorsements are of any indication, they are a lot), but he supposed this is what love does to people, especially to those who are tying the knot in a few hours.

Viktor immediately made a beeline to his side and gave him a tight glomp. Chris returned the hug with one of his own, patting his friend's back encouragingly for good measure. "Love the new lips," he commented, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Why, thank you, my friend," Viktor accepted the compliment, smacking his lips playfully. "Mmm, I like strawberry."

"His favorite flavor?"

"I don't think he has a preference," Viktor shrugged absently in thought. "It was actually green mint last time. I'd like to think he likes the Chanel one I usually use the most, though."

"More like he likes the taste of its owner on his lips, if you ask me," Chris suggested with a wink, and caught the small tube Viktor all but chucked at him in embarrassment. He's glad he hasn't lost his Friend Touch.

And because he's such a good friend, he's gonna make sure this hopeless man gets to the altar in one piece. (He doesn't even want to think about how Chulanont is handling poor Yuuri's nerves right now.)

"Your man has good taste," Chris remarked, playing with the long-worn lip balm. It's a cheap brand he sees most women use, probably bought from a downtown supermarket. "Can't wait to see the look on his face when he finds out."

Viktor smiled in part-nervousness and part-mischief. "I love to surprise him."

If one weren't listening intently, they might have heard an "I love him" instead. And for all intents and purposes, it might as well have been that.

"Good," Chris nodded approvingly, pocketing the pilfered cosmetic. "Go get dressed. I'll give this back to Chulanont for you." Viktor hummed in thanks and did as he was told.

Halfway out the door, Chris turned back to his friend, who was admiring the plain gold engagement band on his ring finger.

"It will be a lifetime full of surprises," the groom whispered, his voice choking with happiness.

Chris smiled in agreement. "Sounds promising."

And he knew, at that moment, that Viktor will be fine.

(The way Yuuri's eyes widened in recognition as Viktor dipped him into their wedding kiss was absolutely priceless.)

iv.

Phichit should have known when Viktor clung to him like an overgrown child during practice.

"Haha, what's this?" he asked jokingly as he pulled the older man along the curve. The new not-really brother-in-law is so fun to tease. "Trouble in paradise so soon?"

At once, Viktor's forlorn expression was replaced by one of incredulity. "What? No, of course not!" He still didn't let go of Phichit's arm, though, further tightening his grip instead.

And if the way those pale, manicured nails digged into rich, brown skin is of any indication, Phichit now had a second differential in mind.

He never imagined The Viktor Nikiforov, of all people, to join the legions of victims tormented by his ongoing web serial, but he supposed that that, too, was an accomplishment of its own right. At least his minor from college is paying off well -- and handsomely, too, at a hundred dollars per chapter.

"I warned you, it wouldn't end well," Phichit laughed. "I even spoiled half the story for you."

More like Viktor actually lived through half of it, since it was a fictionalized version of his life and all. But Phichit wouldn't tell him that - not yet.

(If anything, he's actually more than surprised that his subject hasn't figured it out for himself yet. Even Yuuri already has, and he's currently getting a lot of hell for it over Skype.)

"I can't believe he wanted to break up all along," Viktor whined at him mournfully while shaking his arm. "Their relationship had so much promise, and he was willing to throw it all away? It's unacceptable."

Phichit simply raised an eyebrow in amusement. Barcelona. Of course. He shot the poor Russian a devious shit-eating grin over his shoulder. "Triggered much?"

He wasn't even being subtle anymore at this point; Not-Brother-in-Law's denseness is losing its novelty pretty fast.

Phichit received an adorable scowl in return, and the pressure on his arm is gone as Viktor left his side to bother Yuuri instead. He laughed as his best friend stumbled over his code-switching again, mixing up English, Japanese and Russian phrases in confusion. The way Viktor's face lit up at once as he glomped his husband on the ice was simply too precious.

He snapped a photo as always, of course. Those two dorks really are the best for each other, and as their friend and one of their best men, he is willing to fight anyone tooth-and-nail for it.

And if posting endless photos of them weren't enough, he'd write whole novels and dissertations for them.

Speaking of which, he has a new side story for his serial now. Spasibo, bratan.

Phichit skated away from the kissing couple, immensely satisfied.

("Viktor says he loves your new update. How do you even come up with ideas for it?"

"Aw, shucks, Yuuri! Thank you so much! Stay in love always, okay? I'll be watching~."

"Phichit, STOP.")

Yuuri should have known when Viten'ka, for lack of a better word, lost it.

And by "it," he meant both the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle and his husband's sanity.

The almost-completed picture of Van Gogh's The Starry Night was left abandoned on the table, in favor of getting down on their hands and knees to look for the missing piece. The puzzle pieces were quite small, and losing only one shouldn't really be too distracting, as long as the right frame is used and the guests kept their distance.

Yuuri had considered talking Viktor into just hanging it up as is to spare them both the time and effort, but the puzzle-shaped blank space smack dab in the middle of swirling blue skies ticked even him off. That, or a year into marriage has made him as nitpicky as his husband about such trivial things, like twin peas in a pod.

Or maybe not, because he also appreciated said husband's well-endowed ass, as it constantly shifted in position while the man was looking under the couch. Admittedly, far-from-innocent thoughts have filled his mind while it was sticking up like that, but no, he would never go that far. He isn't a bit sorry for not helping out at all, however.

As Viktor moved to the CD stand next, Yuuri affirmed the last statement as the truest of them all.

That was one more thing that had changed over time, he supposed. And Viktor, too, knows this all too well, if the generous affection he lavished in bed at night was of any indication. Those times were the most fun.

Even now, Yuuri couldn't believe how much things have changed since they first met. Back then, Viktor had been someone akin to a god -- perfect, immaculate, unattainable. Over time, he came to learn how his god turned out to be as human as he was, with various faults and quirks and random eccentricities of his own. And though he's practically run the whole gamut of emotions for it, he considered himself very lucky that Viktor Nikiforov came into his life the way he did -- like a flashy, exploding supernova that surprised him and set everything on fire.

Viktor, for his part, would never tire of telling their story this way -- how everything in his life had been falling apart like the thin ice beneah his feet, then how it all suddenly fell into place when he met the love of his life, and he felt more than whole again. Phichit certainly cried buckets when Viktor called Yuuri Katsuki the best surprise of his life, and how truly, immensely lucky he was to be married to him. (They completed each other like perfectly-fit jigsaw puzzles, he'd said. Ha.)

They couldn't have found each other in a much better way, Yuuri mused as he spied a small piece of blue cardboard under the television set. As he reached his hand forward to retrieve it, however, another larger hand closed in first and pulled out of the dark space just as quickly. His husband let out a silly grin as he raised the puzzle piece between his fingers, and Yuuri was overcome with a wave of unexplainable feelings as he pinned the other man to the floor.

"What's this?" Viktor asked with amusement. "Are you that happy we finally found it?"

"Maybe," Yuuri answered teasingly, bending down to kiss the other man senseless. Maybe it wasn't only Viktor who lost his sanity this round, after all. (And how, indeed; all this over a single missing puzzle piece.) "I've had a lot of thoughts today, is all," he confessed breathlessly as he pulled away.

"Wow, do share," Viktor commented, his flushed form clearly betraying excitement and arousal. "I'm all ears, since we've already finished the puzzle and all."

"No, thanks," Yuuri declined with a smirk, taking the puzzle piece instead and lifting himself off the ground. He enjoyed the way his husband's face comically fell at the blunt rejection. Viktor whined as he got up and joined him at the table. "Yuu-chan!"

Yuuri looked back over his shoulder. "You have your moments, Viten'ka; let me have mine."

#viktorweek #fanfiction #victor nikiforov #yuri!!! on ice

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wordcollector · 7 years

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A Year In Books: The 2016 Bookworm Awards

I’d like to blame the lateness of this post on something dramatic, like aliens or politics or a terrible computer virus. But the truth is that I’ve had this written since the turn of the year and haven’t had the motivation to type it up. Despite the tardiness of this post, I’d still like to share with you my final round-up on the books I read last year. There were quite a few, and I have a lot of opinions, so stick with me!

2016 was a pretty good year for me. I participated in my first 10k, I successfully defended my PhD dissertation proposal, and I found out I was going to become an aunt- to twins! Aside from those things, though, my year was pretty uneventful, which was a blessing in disguise as it gave me plenty of time to read.

I keep track of my yearly reading on Goodreads (jbfinch89; let’s be friends!), and based on my number there, I spent a large portion of this year with my nose stuck in a book. I guess I really am a funny girl and all that.

In 2015, I read 132 books. My goal for this past year started at 100, which I surpassed, so I upped it to 150. I passed that goal, too, but I wasn’t sure just how ambitious I wanted to be after that, so that's where my goal stayed.

When all was said and done, I had read 178 books (Goodreads says 174, but that’s because I still haven't managed to find a good way to record rereads on Goodreads). These 178 books came from a number of different genres, ranging from classics to sci-fi to Christian fiction to memoirs for a total of over 63,000 pages.

I should probably be glad I didn't end up with more paper cuts.

Here's a more detailed breakdown of my reading this year:

Books Read: 178

New Series Started: 14

Old Series Finished: 5

Series Binge Read: 4

Fiction vs. Nonfiction: 156 (88%) vs. 22 (12%)

Authors Read: 133

Rereads: 9

So probably no one but me that cares about these stats, but I like the numbers.

It looks like I started a lot of new series that are going to require more space on my bookshelves in the future, but I also made the executive decision to let myself not finish a series. I hate leaving things unfinished, so I normally would have kept up with a series as long as I didn’t completely hate the first book, but this year, I realized that I have neither the time nor the room to keep that up forever. There are too many books out there that I want to read to stick with ones that I don’t like. I even let myself sell the first books in these series, mostly because I needed the space, but also to avoid the temptation to keep reading the series out of guilt. Like I said, too many books to feel bad.

And there really are a tone of books out there to read; just look at my Goodreads ‘To-Read’ shelf. But I put a pretty good dent in my eternal TBR pile last year, and through the good and the bad, I found myself laughing, frowning, crying, and cringing. Some books were okay, some were disappointing, and some definitely knocked my socks off. Or they would have if I didn’t hate wearing socks so much.

But I digress. My reading last year had its ups and downs, but some books had way more ups and others more downs. Which are which? It took some work to decide, but I finally managed to narrow down the best of the best, the cream of the crop, and the ones at the tippy top. And so, I present to you the 2016 Bookworm Awards, brought to you once again by the brains behind the Literary Laboratory.

Favorite New Authors: Carrie Firestone and Sarah Porter

These two ladies couldn’t have written more different stories, but they were alike in that neither of them was like anything I’d read before. Carrie’s book was brutally honest and unexpectedly rude, but it was also heartbreaking and hopeful. Sarah wrote a story full of magic and danger with a plucky heroine who was unafraid of doing what needed to be done. To create such fascinating and unique characters and such strangely wonderful situations takes some writers countless tries, but these ladies managed in some of their earliest novels. Brava to both of them!

Favorite New to Me Authors: Erin Morgenstern and Amie Kaufman/Jay Kristoff

I have no idea why I held off on reading the releases from these three. The Night Circus blew me away; it was whimsical and mysterious and dangerous and romantic, and if I could live in Le Cirque des Reves, I would. The Night Circus has fantastically complex characters, but it’s really the world they create that makes this book so great. It’s easily one of my all-time favorites. And both Illuminae and Gemina kept me glued to the pages long after I should’ve gone to bed, gotten back to work, or headed out to run errands. I couldn’t put either of these books down! The format of these stories is one-of-a-kind, and the stories themselves are heart-stopping and action-packed. There were so many plot twists that I didn’t see coming, and I was rooting so hard for the main characters, who were all flawed but skilled, broken but determined, lost yet relentless. I can’t wait for the next book in this series.

Best Beginning of a Series: Illumine (The Illuminae Files #1) by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

As I just mentioned, The Illuminae Files is one of my favorite series of 2016. Illuminae easily surpassed anything I could’ve expected and had me flying through the pages to see what happened next. The story started off with chaos and never let up, and I loved following Kady, Ezra, and the rest of the survivors of Kerenza as they tried to escape the people who had blown up their home. I really liked Kady in particular. She was smart, skilled, and snarky, and her willingness to put herself in harm’s way to save those she cared about was undeniably admirable. There were so many twists and turns in her quest for safety, and every time I thought I had things pegged, I was proven wrong. Illuminae was an explosive—literally—debut for this award-winning duo, and it quickly earned both authors a place on my TBR pile for their individual books.

Best Ending to a Series: The Raven King (The Raven Cycle #4) by Maggie Stiefvater, Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows #2) by Leigh Bardugo, Ignite Me (Shatter Me #3) by Tahereh Mafi

In every book series, characters change and grow as they face new situations and new challenges. These three series, though, had more character growth than most. The writing in these series allowed the characters to naturally respond to the changes in their lives, both good and bad, and end up somewhere better than I ever could’ve guessed when I began each series. Each story also had plenty of action, danger, and romance to wrap up the adventures, and the endings managed to be foregone yet still surprising, which, to me, is always a sign that the author has really put work into the finale rather than just giving readers what they want. Not everyone got their happy ending, but everyone got a proper ending, with hints of more stories in the future. I can only hope.

Best Short Story Collection: Stars Above (The Lunar Chronicles) by Marissa Meyer

The Lunar Chronicles is one of my all-time favorite series, and this collection of extra stories about the main characters was everything I’d hoped for and more. The stories provided looks at the pasts of some of the characters, helping show how they became the people I came to know and love, while the final story provided a new adventure for the four couples as they started their lives after the war. Something Old, Something New made me smile so much and made my heart swell with happiness for these characters, and I can’t thank Marissa enough for another chance to peek back into the world of The Lunar Chronicles.

Most Disappointing Book: Stalking Jack the Ripper by Kerri Maniscalco

Ugh, I really wanted to like this book. The cover was beautiful, and the premise of a young woman training to become a forensic pathologist and finding herself on the path of an infamous serial killer sounded great. But this book fell prey to the dangers of insta-love, ridiculous decisions by an intelligent character, and a villain reveal that didn’t make sense. There was very little stalking of Bloody Jack as the title had promised, and to make it worse, the characters were pretty flat, largely predictable, and fairly uninteresting. This is one series I won’t be continuing.

Favorite Classic: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

I wrote a whole review on this book last February because it managed to do what few books have done and catch me truly by surprise. The first part of this book makes you think it’s going to be a typical gothic romance with grand, sweeping settings, beautiful but troubled characters, and a dark secret. And this book is that. But then the dark secret is revealed, and it was something I never would’ve guessed. It had me flipping back to reread scenes in a new light and kept me glued to the book until I’d reached the end. This book is a classic for a reason, and I highly recommend it for anyone who’s a fan of a good mystery.

Favorite Non-fiction Read: Ghost Soldiers by Hampton Sides

This book had my emotions all over the place. The topic—the Bataan death march and the Cabanatuan Camp—is one that isn’t widely discussed, but it really should be, as it’s a true story of the best and worst of mankind. I couldn’t believe the optimism, the hope, and the perseverance of the human spirit in such horrific conditions, and it gave me a new respect for the men who endured such cruelty. Ghost Soldiers is truly a heartbreaking yet inspiring story and certainly one I’ll never forget.

Favorite Reread: The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle #2) by Maggie Stiefvater

The Raven Cycle is one of my favorite series anyway, and while I love the other three books, The Dream Thieves just feels like a beast of a different sort. I’d forgotten how much I loved to hate Kravinsky, not to mention how legitimately crazy that dude was, but I loved how he messed with the Raven boys and how he antagonized Ronan in particular. This book focused more on Ronan and his abilities as the Greywaren, and it felt less like a mystical mystery and more like a reckless, headfirst race into danger and bad decisions than the rest of the quartet. I was quite pleased to hear that the Ronan-centered series Maggie is working on will be more like The Dream Thieves, because goodness knows I need more of this lovable thug of a boy in my life.

Favorite Retelling: Vassa in the Night by Sarah Porter

I was only vaguely familiar with the original tale of Vasilisa and her magical doll—thanks, random folklore podcast!—and so I wasn’t really sure what to expect from this book. I ended up being pleasantly surprised! The setting of the story was a mix of the familiar and the absurd, the characters were magical and strange, and the story itself was, well, also strange, but also a bit heartbreaking and a bit inspiring. Vassa was such a strong character, and I loved that she managed to save others by being kind; she didn’t require any special powers, other than what Erg provided, to defeat Baba Yaga, which is unusual for most YA books today. And since I wasn’t really sure how the original tale ended, I couldn’t guess how things were going to turn out for Vassa. This is the way modern retellings should be done.

Favorite Contemporary Read: The Loose Ends List by Carrie Firestone

This book wasn’t anything like I expected, and that was a good thing. I expected an interesting story about a girl whose grandmother was dying. What I got was an open, honest, yet rude, funny, and heartbreaking look at death, letting go, and the love of family. I loved Maddie and her reactions to all the crazy things that happened on the cruise, and I loved getting to see the sweet relationship between her and her grandmother. I also loved getting to meet all the other Wishwellians and their families and seeing how all their views of life and death changed as the cruise went on. The cover of this book, although quite cute, doesn’t really do this book justice as it covers such a heavy topic and really makes you consider what you’re doing that makes life worth living.

Scariest Book: Dark Places by Gillian Flynn

Most people know Gillian Flynn through her novel Gone Girl, but I’ve only read her other novels, and Dark Places is easily my favorite. This book was more suspenseful than scary, but it was frightening to uncover the true events of the fateful night that the family of the main character, Libby, was killed. Libby herself was a rather unlikable character, but she’d suffered so much that I still cared about her story. It was interesting to have the POV jumps and the flashbacks to unfold the story and create tension from a number of different angles, and the truth of the murders was actually much more complex and scary than I’d imagined. This book was rather depressing and dark, but it’s worth it to see how Libby changes as she learns more about her family and their deaths.

Funniest Books: Scrappy Little Nobody by Anna Kendrick, The Only Pirate at the Party by Lindsey Stirling, and You’re Never Weird on the Internet (Almost) by Felicia Day

My sense of humor is a bit drier and a bit darker than most, but these three ladies all managed to make me laugh numerous times. Not at them, of course, more at the various situations they’ve found themselves in over the years and the ridiculous ways they reacted to them. (They were laughing, too, so I didn’t feel bad.) It was nice to see that even famous people have awkward moments, whether it’s suffering from foot-in-mouth syndrome or acting like a total fangirl in fronts of someone (else) famous. Aside from being funny, these memoirs showed the dedication and determination of these women to their crafts, and I loved that they were open about both the ups and downs in their lives. It makes me admire them all the more for their willingness to share their mistakes and their hard times and to then remind everyone that it’s okay to ask for help, that there are people out there who love you and want to see you happy. And I feel like these three ladies really show that the bad times don’t last forever and that sometimes laughter really is the best medicine.

Most Unexpected Books: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier and Illuminae by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

I know I’ve already talked about both of these a bit, but I want to reiterate that both of these books threw in a huge twist that I absolutely did not see coming. That happens quite rarely for me, and the fact that it happened twice in one year makes me think I’m either losing my awesome literary foresight or authors are getting better at being surprising. Well, Rebecca is far from new, so maybe I’ve just been reading better books. Regardless, even though I’ve told you there are big twists, you should really read these books to find out what they are. I promise you you won’t be disappointed.

Cover Lust: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, The Raven King (The Raven Cycle #4) by Maggie Stiefvater, and The Love That Split the World by Emily Henry

I will freely admit that I’m guilty of occasionally judging a book by its cover, and these books would’ve definitely piqued my interest even if I’d known nothing about them. The covers of these three books are all very different, but they fit their individuals stories so well, managing to portray all the magic inside with a single picture. A cover picture is worth a thousand words, after all.

These say,

“Aren’t

pretty?”

(The answer is yes, yes you are.)

Most Surprising Villain: Tamlin from A Court of Mist and Fury (A Court of Thorns and Roses #2) by Sarah J. Maas

In A Court of Thorns and Roses, I liked Tamlin. He wasn’t perfect, and his unwillingness to stand up to Amarantha to help Feyre irked me, but overall, I thought he was a good match for Feyre, and I was glad they ended up together. Then I got to A Court of Mist and Fury, and all those happy feelings for Tamlin went right out the window. Part of me initially wanted to forgive his actions—he was finally free after so many years, and he was clearly still recovering—but the moment he locked Feyre in the house was the moment I lost all sympathy for him. It’s one thing to want to protect someone you love, but it’s another thing entirely to force them to do what you want because you think you know what’s best for them. And then that ending! Yeah, Tamlin jumped to the top of my naughty list. I loved that Maas was able to flip the tables on Tamlin’s character and show how people can change for the better or for the worse. I kind of liked Tamlin’s road to villainy, in part because it was so unexpected but also because it made room for Rhysand, which I certainly didn’t mind!

Top Five Couples:

Blue and Gansey from The Raven King (The Raven Cycle #4) by Maggie Stiefvater

Feyre and Rhysand from A Court of Mist and Fury (A Court of Thorns and Roses #2) by Sarah J. Maas

Celia and Marco from The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Kaz and Inej from Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows #2) by Leigh Bardugo

Juliette and Warner from Ignite Me (Shatter Me #3) by Tahereh Mafi

You know how some couples have problems with lying or trusting one another or disapproving families? These couples make those couples look lame by comparison. These five couples were forced to deal with magic, murder, kidnapping, corrupt rulers and governments, major anxiety issues, their own death—you know, simple stuff—and managed to come out even stronger. These guys and gals are all strong and fierce on their own, but together, they prove they can do absolutely anything they set their minds to. Definitely relationship goals, expect maybe with less bloodshed.

And that’s the end!

This was really a whirlwind year for me in terms of reading; I found a number of books that made it onto my all-time favorites list, and I found some others that convinced me to branch out in regards to what genres and topics I’m willing to explore.

So how did those discoveries work out in relation to my reading goals from last year? Well, I met—and surpassed—my initial goal of 100 books. I did manage to read more classics, although I still have plenty to go. And I read at least one non-fiction book each month, and most months, I read more than one. I rediscovered that real life can be just as dramatic and violent and romantic and mysterious as fiction, something that I tend to forget as I’m off exploring all the fictional worlds I can find. Therefore, one of this year’s reading goals is based on my enjoyment of all the nonfiction stories I read last year; yes, once again, I have my reading goals along with my more general resolutions. This year, my goals are to:

1) Read only nonfiction books for an entire month

2) Read at least 160 books

3) Read more classics…again

I’m quite confident that I can successfully meet all these goals—goodness knows I have enough books on my shelves to do so. I’m also quite confident that I’ll once again find some new favorites and some interesting historical events to study up on. There’s a whole year’s worth of reading to explore, and I can’t to see where these stories take me.

I better go get started…

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gladisnewblood · 7 years

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An academic’s summer

First, a little update on my fall classes at the SLAC: one of the two precarious classes has hit the minimum enrollment mark, so it’s safe (for now). The other is still too low, but we may be able to fill it up with first-year students who need to fulfill certain requirements; it only needs a few more students and it’s a go. I was told that if it doesn’t fill up, I may have to teach an extra class the following semester. That would be tough but we’ll see how it goes. No one else seems that worried, which is a good sign.

Second, I’ve sent (set?) the ball rolling on editing my dissertation into a book manuscript. I’ve contacted an editor for developmental editing, and we’re in the process of setting up a phone chat. I got their name from a colleague with whom I recently reconnected during a small academic roundtable I was part of last month (more on this in a bit). It was a lovely encounter as they are a very generous person. They sang the praises of this editor, who helped edit their book that got some buzz when it came out (it is on my TBR pile for the summer and may become part of one of my classes). I’m nervous because it’s going to be a lot of work to get my project in shape; the writing is shaky at times, but it’s actually the thematic and tonal quality I’m most concerned with at this stage. I’m hoping to get help as well on putting together a book proposal. This needs to happen while I have the visiting assistant professorship, preferably by next spring so that I have some concrete movement on the book to share in my job applications starting in summer 2018.

Third, about that roundtable. It happened last month, after classes ended but before I had finished grading, so I was still feeling a little fried. It was a roundtable featuring some of the contributors of the anthology I’ve already mentioned several times. I didn’t prepare very much because I didn’t realize that it would be semi-formal. For one thing, it was billed as a “roundtable,” not a presentation panel, and we were asked to prepare answers about women in the academy in relation to our research (which I was told could be broadly imagined and not just focus on our contribution to the anthology). So that’s what I did. There were five of us, and I was to go fourth. When the first contributor--a tenured professor with a great scholarly record--went up to the podium to describe her work formally, with slides!, I got super nervous. My heart started beating really hard, and I looked at my messy hand-written notes on a legal pad with burgeoning panic. All of the other presenters had their notes typed up on their laptops. Oh, and did I mention that I accidentally forgot to bring my laptop to the event? (I had to drive a long-ass way to get to the campus, so I was pressed for time that morning.) It had all the markings of a nightmare. I felt bad that I couldn’t pay as much attention to the other presenters as I wanted because I was distracted by my panic, and there were people in the audience that I didn’t want to look rude in front of.

But guess what? IT TURNED OUT OKAY. In fact, it turned out better than I expected. I forced myself to pay attention to the second and third presenters and this attention allowed me to start making larger connections with my work and with the concerns of the anthology as a whole. It helped that I had read everyone else’s essays the night before, so I knew what to expect in their presentations. I wish I had practiced my little spiel more carefully, but I did get some practice during that long drive. It also helped that the third presenter was funny and personable, so the audience was primed to be kind to all of us. I started my talk with an apology (grr, I know, I have to stop being so apologetic all the time) that my remarks would be more informal, and noted that I would be addressing the question all of us were asked, which was how the theme of the anthology (an emerging interdisciplinary field) applied to our research on a broad scale. So I talked about how my scholarly concerns have always seemed to be located in this field already, and how my core approach was akin to reading the signs that are de-focalized, like looking for easily overlooked images in the background or edges of photographs or film. And rather than talking about the specific contribution I made to the anthology, I talked about my larger dissertation/book project. That went over well, although I think I should have more clearly stated the outlines of my essay. But they can read it if they want to.

And another thing that helped? A dear friend was in the audience. We went to grad school together to get our master’s degrees so I’ve known them for a long time. This is the person who helped me get the adjunct gig at the SLAC in the first place, and who has been an admirer and champion of my work since we first met. They’re one of the few people who has made an effort to lift up others lower on the rungs of academia than they are, and not in a condescending or paternalistic way. They’re just ridiculously kind and considerate.

So all in all, it was a great event. There was yummy food and cake too! I really enjoyed hanging out with the editors, other contributors, and department members afterwards. I had to leave early because traffic is hell in southern California (and indeed that was the absolute worst part of my day), but it was an overall win for me. I not only connected/re-connected with brilliant colleagues, including one of my dissertation advisers, but I got the contact info of the editor I’ll hopefully be working with for my book and was inspired to rethink the book project itself in productive ways. Reminder: I must make sure to clarify some of those new ideas before our phone conversation next week.

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks vegging out, reading genre fiction, catching up on TV (sadly done already), and focusing on my unfortunate dietary and exercise (non-)habits. Next week, my kid finishes his school year, and then we’ll be in summer vacation mode for a couple of months. But I’ve got to make sure to gain momentum on

working on the book

preparing for fall classes

reading like crazy (see #2), and

getting fit and losing some of this “teacher weight” (what else do people call it?).

It feels like a lot, tbh, and I’m worried. I need to make headway so that I don’t feel like I’ve wasted this time. Once teaching starts, my attention shifts away from my own work and onto the stresses and engagements of handling the education of other people.

One last thing: I realized that I do a lot of research online, reading articles, reviews, etc., so I finally added Zotero to my internet browser. So far, so good. I wish I’d started doing this years ago, when I started reading voraciously online. It’s so helpful to be able to tag the stuff you read and bookmark them that way for research and/or teaching. My bookmarking practice has been all over the place, including Pinterest, browser bookmarks, and even Tumblr pages. Those platforms don’t really allow tagging, note-taking, and/or organizing, so it’s tough. (I haven’t done a good job of curating/organizing my Tumblrs. Zotero is just easier for me to understand and use since I’ve done a lot of work with bibliographic software.)

#academia #academic friendships

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