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beemovieerotica · 1 month

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What's your degree in evolution say about that impregnation post?

tldr; no, it's not weird that humans don't go into heat.

ok so first off there are a lot of mammals that have concealed ovulation --- they don't physically, outwardly show when they're most fertile --- and there can be a lot of reasons for this.

but the biggest misconception that people have about evolution that I want to lay out first, is that just because something seems "more efficient" or "more advantageous" does not mean that it's going to evolve or *should have* already evolved. this is a big creationist argument too ("if evolution were real, then we would have evolved x, y, z")

if something works, it works. the fact that humans don't have obvious signs of when they're ovulating does not mean that we are a somehow "less efficient" species or that sex has a different purpose for us. rabbits also do not go into heat. they don't signal when they're ovulating. but, famously, they breed (like rabbits).

it's not good science to talk about traits and behaviors from this kind of benefit-based, anticipatory mindset. and I don't know how else to describe it, but it's like saying "oh, that fish has little legs because it needed to crawl up onto the sand." KILL THIS IN YOUR MIND! just because something ended up being good for a species and having incidental positives does not make that thing the "purpose" or driving force behind how that trait became ubiquitous across the species.

[[long aside, imagine if you will: a fish gets a mutation that makes its fins weirdly stiff. a bunch of fish get washed up on a shore, as happens, sometimes, because of the weather. and most of the fish die, but look, this fish with the weirdly stiff fins is able to leverage and worm and flop its way back into the water because its fins prop it up a little bit more than the other fish. it gets back into the water. it has more babies than the other fish (who are dead). etc. etc. etc. no purpose involved. it did not intend to grow legs.]]

"ok but why DON'T humans go into heat? if it could have happened either way, and if it's all about costs and benefits, wouldn't that be helpful, because it would mean guaranteed pregnancy?"

we're not special. many monkeys and other apes do not go into heat. again, if it works, it works, and we're doing great at getting pregnant without it.

we don't know if our human ancestors DID go into heat and if we lost that trait, OR if they never did and the trait evolved totally separate from us on other branches of the tree-- you can't necessarily determine if a trait was acquired or lost based on the number of species that exhibit it overall. you'd have to do some gene-by-gene detective work, and ovulation signalling is a complex process that's not tied to just one gene, and people are still figuring that out

you WILL see some biologists talking about how concealed ovulation "promotes monogamy" and I have to stress what an utter minefield a lot of speculative evolution is. we are TRAPPED in our current cultural context!!!

scientists who are otherwise so rational and good at thinking about things impartially will dip their toes into the evolution of sex and suddenly turn stupid. i've seen respected PhDs argue that the evolution of large breast tissue in humans is meant to "attract mates" - because western society finds breasts erotic - ignoring the fact that breasts aren't considered remotely sexual in pre-industrial societies - so of course these same guys are going to say that monogamy is some kind of end goal of an actual physical trait that humans possess.

SPOILER ALERT: there are between 6 and 13 non-monogamous primates that also conceal ovulation. oh no!! looks like monogamy isn't the point.

and then you have psychologists (who even asked??) doing studies like this

https://www.forbes.com/sites/rebeccacoffey/2021/01/29/estrus-and-the-evolution-of-mean-girl-behavior-like-slut-shaming-among-women/?sh=ca83660606b3

["estrus" is the word for behavioral changes that signal ovulation] the study is truly a wild ride but here's some highlights that show just how much people are letting their current cultural biases influence the actual design of their studies

-> all males wanted badly to mate -> females did not have promiscuity ratings -> female mate value relied heavily on physical attractiveness

it goes without saying that as long as researchers are forming their speculations on past ancestral human societies by just, looking around at their immediate culture and not questioning it at all, we're not going to get anywhere closer to understanding why the human body works the way it does

i'm losing the thread a bit because studies like this make me see red, but the point is that you're going to see a lot of insane takes from actual researchers on why human sex and biology works the way it does. you're going to see weird extrapolation and creationist-adjacent reasoning about evolution leading toward some "purpose" or people having some idea of what an ideal human body would or wouldn't do.

okay but at the end of the day, if a random human did evolve the ability to go into heat? would they be substantially more successful at producing children, and would that gene eventually become the norm for the species? no. there are so many goddamn humans in existence, and you've already got catholics having like 8 children per family anyway, so really, if there was a gene for being catholic then that would probably win out.

#ask #science #biology #evolution

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system-of-a-feather · 8 months

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Okay so like, we started talking to an old friend again that we haven't talked to in like over a year, almost a year and a half honestly and it naturally has me having to go through the "aight what have you missed in the Feathers Saga" and thinking about it made me go "ok its a good chance to make a list of Total Ws in life and recovery to celebrate a year and a half of progress" cause god damn theres been a lot

Lets GO. 1.5 Year "we got this bread" positivity post to just go "God DAMN we are doing GOOD" (not an exhaustive list though cause that requires me to remember and go through every event over a year and a half and I may be at functional multiplicity but my memory is still garbage)

Trauma, DID, and Recovery Achievements:

Identified and got a system consensus that our oldest sister is a piece of shit and basically our life long "handler" and HARD cut her off out of our life

Rebuilt really good relationship (neutral but pleasant to supportive and reliable) with our other direct family members who don't try to force us to interact with her

Identified that we are probably considered polyfragmented and very quickly accepted it cause quite frankly we don't really care

Got most parts to acknowledge that we aren't faking being Asian (I know but that was a long one I swear to god)

Basically entirely got over our 6 year long difficulty driving cars SO much to the point we have multiple parts ARGUING who gets to drive and actively WANTING to drive

Largely let go of a lot of the anger and hurt directed at our parents for their role in our childhood trauma

Largely helped our main CSA trauma holder basically fully go into PTSD remission to the point hes now an uber helpful tertiary host and arguably one of our most comfortable parts talking about CSA related topics

Cleared stabilization phase of recovery and achieved functional multiplicity as confirmed by our DID specialist at the time

Fused like so many parts ngl. I don't know if Riku 1.0 and XIV 1.0 fused with their respective parts to be Riku 2.0 and XIV 2.0 around then cause it was about the time we stopped talking but there was that, the whole Data subsystem and shit, integrating Chunn into the system and helping him renavigate that crap, Lin fusing with an inner world part and shit - lots of that XD

Became a (Zen-leaning) Buddhist which plays a decent role in how we approach our mental health and cultural identity

Finally went from "undiagnosable autistic" to "Yeah you are autistic" because functional multiplicity enabled a more clear diagnosis

LOTS of gender dysphoria shit and gender shit that is too much work to break into main bullet points

Gained massive insight into how we intend to approach our reclaiming of sexuality

Learned to literally meditate and just enjoy existing

Realized we reaaaaaalllllly have a low threshold for dealing with people who we don't actively and strongly enjoy being around

Career and Direction Wise:

Graduated our undergrad - woot woot

Got a job supporting special ed - enjoyed it made good connections but also noted that god no dealing with people so much is not our cup of tea

Got a BETTER job at a reputable university to support research on aging memory with mice that has really good benefits - really like this job but also its not our cup of tea because we don't really enjoy the monotony

Came to the decision that research wise we really would rather deal with people on the "less" than the "more" end, scratching off a lot of human-focused research interests at least for the time being and greatly narrowing our previously wide scope down to the more animal heavy side

Sitting on old topics we researched and found interest in, realized the one thing our brain kept going back to was metrics of studying animal mental states and that we really probably would enjoy that as a nice balance between our interest and what we have the personal ability to engage in sustainably

Decided we are in fact going back to our PhD now that we have decided that 1) working life as a gear in a machine is cool and relaxing and shit, but it lowkey makes us depressed with how stagnant it is and we need more going on in our work life to keep us happy so "ok we tried that, we don't like it, back to the plan" 2) we have a pretty good idea of what we want to study at least for the beginning of a PhD career that could go in different directions organically

Scheduling currently a Zoom meeting with a professor we are interested in to informally discuss graduate studies

Independence, Hobbies and Other Shit:

We live on our own, sustain our life on our own and live with our fiance who - despite being currently unable to work due to disabilities - we are able to support and sustain (also bless zen Buddhism making it easy to be happy and enjoy life on a lower income)

Made some really nice mutuals - you know who you are - yall are good company love yall

Between the parts that are co-hosting, we have so many hobbies and interests its ridiculous; but we added electric guitar, ukelele, and recently a drum pad to our musical repertoire; gardening and plant care (which we suck at which is fine) added to the hobby

Became painful morning people as a result to our job and kinda realized we prefer it sorry for being that guy

Lost the ability to do the peacock call due to T dropping our voice range like a BITCH but in returned gained Raven calls and duck / goose noises

Also learned to do finch calls

Rescued two lovebirds when we moved to an apartment with our fiance - they are lesbians and very confused about it

Adopted a cat my fiance's mom was fostering from a kitten cause shes a shoulder cat (bird) and also now because of XIV she is also a dog who plays fetch and loves belly rubs (she also has extra toes)

Consistently continued doing art, developing the story world, encouraging my writing partner to get into art, aggressively shaking all my friends to art with me

Got Lin to be obsessed with art with me as well

Kept up a 230 day duolingo streak juggling like 6 or 7 different languages (the last like 120~ days or so have been a lot more 'just keeping it up' and me just doing one lesson of Japanese a day since its the one I know the best but it HAS been kept up)

Transitioning:

Started T and stayed taking T

Got a hysterectomy GOOD BYE PCOS

Am charted for seeing a surgeon to discuss bottom surgery this month

Am charted for seeing consult for top surgery at Some Point when the insurance stuff goes through

Have long since forgone our Dead Name in almost every area and got comfortable with our Chosen Name

Considering participating in Transmasculine No Shave November out of Transpride

#alter: riku #recovery #healing #progress #recovery progress #system update #transitioning #ptsd #c-ptsd

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ewanmitchelll · 3 months

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Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (XVIII): Lavender Haze.

Imagine you and Osferth hit the road.

Warnings: smut, fluff.

Warnings 2: based on this aesthetic here <<https://www.tumblr.com/ewanmitchelll/737975550586634240/moodboard-on-the-road-with-osferth>>

***

• Meet me at midnight

He stops by your house by midnight. In silent steps, with no warning, he rings the bell. You are about to slide in your bed, for you’ve had a long day but anxieties prevented you sleeping earlier and get a proper rest.

“Who…?”

Your inquiring dies in your throat when realizing, through the eye door, who stands the other side of it.

You sigh and unlock it, before saying:

“Really, Osferth? Honey, it’s Thursday and it’s midnight.”

Your boyfriend is dressing comfortable clothes, the same as usual. Despite the hour of the wolf, he looks restless as you let him in.

“What’s going on? Couldn’t you have called me?”

Osferth walks in, hands in his pocket. Then a glint of mischief is perceived in his eyes. What’s he planning now?

“I could not sleep. I wanted to see you.”

He smiles when detecting a blush painting your cheeks. Now that the lights are on and he’s at your place, Osferth takes a better look at you.

You dress cozy, warm pajamas—and it happens to be that pair he gifted you on Christmas, velvet teddy bear pink pajamas, very appropriated and cute for winter—and your hair is completely a mess. Not to mention the sleep-eye you have over your forehead.

“You look gorgeous, my darling”, he shortens the distance, peppering your face with kisses.

“Why thank you, honey. But now I am worried”, you put your hands around his neck. “What happened? You didn’t come all this way to tell me I’m beautiful.”

Osferth smiles at you and nothing warms his heart more than seeing how he affects you, when spotting the same spark of joy in your eyes, the smile that unconsciously rips open your lips… It’s been two years and what you two have remains special, untouched by time.

“As much as this would make me the last romantic of the world”, says he in a whisper, pleased to make you giggle, “I came here to steal you away. Let’s hit the road and do something different.”

Your eyes go wide and you part the embrace to step back.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yup. Let’s do it, hit the road with me, Y/N.”

You have many arguments at why you cannot simply get away with him, but none reaches your tongue. Instead you tilt your head and say:

“Fine. Let me pack my stuff, will you?”

***

• Starin' at the ceilin' with you. Oh, you don't ever say too much and you don't really read into my melancholia… I've been under scrutiny (yeah, oh, yeah). You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh, yeah). All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh, yeah)

Silence hangs comfortably as he drives with you by his side, no destination intended. Whilst you sleep on the driver’s backseat, Osferth opens briefly the window on his left and lets his hand holding a cigarette out so the smoke doesn’t trouble you.

At times this son of Alfred, high skilled diplomat under King Charles III of England, is impulsive and somewhat reckless, but never entirely unpredictable.

However, now that he has finally some time to himself, he wants to spend it with you. Osferth has recently started working as a college professor after finishing his PhD. A path that his father, however, did not initially look with good eyes. Alfred preferred to have inserted his children at politics or at royalty, by somehow making them approach the royal ladies and lords. Only Edward, his youngest son, followed his path.

Æthelflæd has recently married Uhtred Ragnarsson and is residing at Bebbanburg, located in the north of country. As far as Osferth knows, she’s just recently found out she’s having their first baby.

Stepping away from these domestic affairs reminds him of what liberty is like. You and him share a common taste for pursuing it whenever social pressure is too much for you.

As he casts a look at you, Osferth is reminded the first time he met Finan’s sister and how he fell for you.

It was actually at Uhtred’s fancy feast, but you looked just as an outsider as he was, specially when both of you were introverts who happened to be selectively extroverts and that night was particularly not one for the latter.

You two shared a couple of beers and turned out talking a lot, on the floor and staring at the ceiling of a random room. Curiously, this didn’t end up in a session of make out—because by then you had a boyfriend, whom soon was dumped out.

As he casts a quick gaze at you, hearing you snore lightly, Osferth’s memory of you two connecting with time comes in the back of his mind, the shock in his best friend’a face when he caught you two kissing at Uhtred’s gardens—in another occasion, of course…

He inhales the smoke of the cigarette, exhaling next when remembering the first time you two started you relationship. You were the one to tell how you came to love him. You admitted it half drunk at his birthday party, and that night he held you close against his chest… only in the morning to make love to you.

“Fuck”, he smokes out, cursing under his breath as he is reminded of how you like to straddle his lap. Promptly he dismisses his memories otherwise things would get… uncomfortable.

Road is easy, wind blowing against his hand before he throws away the used cigarette making the scenario perfect to calm his inner storms. Too much pressure on his work, some quarrels with Edward in regard politics…

“I frankly don’t give a fuck to anything. I wasn’t born to live a fancy life…”

He sighs. Hours have been spent on the road and by the time sun begins to set it’s first rays in the promising warm sky, Osferth needs a rest. Finding a random hostel, he stops by and gently wakes you up.

“Mm”, you grumble.

Osferth finds sensible not to say you’ve been drooling.

“We must rest, love. Come”, says he in his usual tone, calm and peaceful.

You follow him, trusting him completely as he leads you inside. Your face is buried in his neck, as he helps you stand.

“Sweet Y/Nickname, you can’t simply sleep and walk at the same time.”

“I can”, you counter argue him. “It’s called sleepwalking my darling.”

Osferth chuckles.

“And here we go…”

Funny, though, as the moment you eventually drop in the bed of the room he arranges for you both, your eyes are instantly open.

“Where are we?”, you ask, too comfortable to stand, watching as he drops to your side.

“Winchester, I dare say. Do you want to visit some of the historical places tomorrow?”, he inquires, already about to fall asleep.

You nuzzle against his neck, cuddling against him as his open arms welcome you in between.

“Of course I do”, you beam. “Thank you, Osferth, for making my days better…”

You chuckle when he doesn’t respond you straight away. At the loud sound of his snores, Osferth has succumbed to sleep.

***

• I feel the lavender haze creepin' up on me. Surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say. No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me… I just wanna stay in that lavender haze.

As you two walk hand in hand between ancient pillars that stood through times amidst modern buildings in clear contrast between past and present, you come to realize how much you like to do your things with him.

When looking at Osferth, no words are enough to describe what he makes you feel. But damn, in secrecy you long to be his wife, to be his every day partner and even perhaps to mother his children.

Naturally your pride doesn’t let you express this views out loud… not when you once mocked Stiorra, your long time friend, for what you judged to be “1950’s shit” where marriage and children are concerned.

But there’s nothing wrong in changing one’s mind. You are proof of it, even if you are scared to admit it to yourself.

“I feel the weight of your stare”, Osferth mumbles as he lights another cigarette.

“I was merely admiring my boyfriend”, you flash him a smirk. “…and also wondering if we could stay one more night here?”

You love to make Osferth blush and look shyly down at his hands.

“Well, I was hoping we could set ourselves back to the road, but what is it you have in mind?”

“Some wine and random lecture”, you suggest.

“Wine is good. But what would you like to debate today?”

The fact he is diplomatic and listener makes you swoon. And Osferth can read it in you, because you disguise poorly how deep your affections for him are. Which is why he smiles to himself, locking hands with you as you two stroll around this old town.

“Socrates, perhaps? It’s a good day to philosophy.”

“I am open to philosophy”, he muses, “or we could debate early medieval England’s kingship.”

You laugh at his excitement about the passion he shares with you: history, wars, weapons, kings… all that has now been reallocated to what is now the past.

“We may see how this will do. You more than often stand for the House of Wessex and God knows why”, you tease him with a playful eye roll.

Osferth responds by holding you from behind, his chin rested on your shoulder, his hands lightly tickling your waists. The sound of your laughters echoes in the air, only stopped as you are turned onto him.

“Silly head”, you tease him.

Right there, at the sidewalk, there is no one but you and him. World seems to spin slowly, nothing else matters.

His hands around your neck, moving higher to cup your face… This is what liberty feels like. When he sees you as who you really are and stays because of it, not in spite of your vices and virtues.

He stays.

His eyes tell you this. He is not leaving. And you, drowning in these blue irises, leave every insecurity aside the moment your lips so willingly clash against his.

It’s a passionate kiss. Always is. Like a thermometer of the love one feels for the other, never disappoints in measuring high temperatures. It’s addictive, it’s perfectly synced.

But you must be always on guard if you are not inclined to be slaved by the passion his kiss and caressing prompt you to.

As you part, however, it begins to rain.

“Looks like we are anticipating our wine evening.”

You chuckle quietly, eyeing him fondly as your thumb strokes over his when locking fingers with him.

“It looks so.”

***

• Talk your talk and go viral. I just need this love spiral. Get it off your chest. Get it off my desk (get it off my desk)

You both are soaked by the time you get to the hostel. As you quickly head towards the shower, Osferth, tossing away his shirt, makes his priority open a bottle of wine he’d purchased for you two. Since he’s not driving tonight, he’s allowing some fun to happen.

And this is what is in your mind too. Moved by a feverish instinct of what this wine might result, you opt to wear a nice black pajamas that, however, are very loose—perhaps more appropriate for summer but because there’s heater in your room, you know there will have no cold to make the choice of your clothing improperly.

Or maybe you do want to look improper. The idea makes you chuckle to yourself.

When door is open, like you presumed, heater is already warming the room. But what does warm your body is seeing your boyfriend partly nude on his waist, lighting the fireplace as he waits for you.

Your eyes scan his well build muscles, small scars collected through his restless childhood and impulsione teenager days that mark his skin, with stories you are already familiar with. His long neck, his hair cut, his well lined jawline, his…

“Why do I sense a pair of eyes over me?”

Osferth turns his head and when he sees you, the jest in his blue eyes are quickly replaced by a glint of mischief that already makes you weak on your knees.

“Goodness me”, he whistles, standing as he comes to meet you. “What do we have here?”

“Osferth…”, you blush, but you enjoy the way his gaze lingers at the silk cotton blouse that barely covers your chest and the shorts that quite leaves exposed your legs.

“Damn it”, your usually composed boyfriend groans quietly. “Making it difficult for me, eh?”

You blink your eyelashes innocently, pushing him aside gently.

“Get yourself a shower first, Osferth.”

He laughs, bitting down his bottom lip as he watches you heading to the kitchen. Osferth sighs in feigned pain. This is a promising night… certainly more than he’d planned.

***

It is not unusual, to your disconcert, that you are easily aroused every time Osferth opens his mouth to make his long discourses of the difference between the use of long swords and daggers in battle.

To worse is that he’s only dressing his boxes. Your legs are almost unconsciously rubbing to repress the aching that burns your womanhood. And you take a long sip of wins, struggling to keep it discreet.

However, Osferth knows your weak spots. And he can tell how your body reacts to his speech. It’s when it becomes unbearable to ignore it further that, placing himself right beside you, says he:

“I’ve always wondered whether my voice impacts you somehow.”

“Why would you do that?”, you ask, pretending to be busy sipping your wine.

Leaving aside his already emptied glass, Osferth leans to kiss your neck very gently, softly just as you like it. The moment his lips brush against your exposed neck is when you slightly arch your back… and he has a peek of your pink nipples.

“Is that a yes, dear Y/Nickname?”, the more his tongue moves to your neck, the more shivers run over you.

And he takes his time, resting his hands around your waist. You tilt your head to the side, trying to hold back the growing lust in you. But Osferth is not letting it happen.

His expertise tongue is going to your shoulder, as his hand starts to play with the shoulder trap of your black blouse, not satisfied until your head falls back and you are barely breathing in anticipation.

“I missed this”, he whispers in your ear as his hands cup your exposed breasts, there spending a long while as you give in easily.

“Oh Osferth!”, you sing out his name as your boyfriend drinks of the view, already experimenting an unbearably ache in his pants.

“Yes?”, he bites your earlobe, never tiring of seeing your nipples going hard under his touch, already wishing to feel each under his drooling tongue.

“It feels so good”, Osferth smiles at it, pleased to provide you these sensations.

It only gets better the moment he helps removing your shorts and his hands find way to where you like them to be: in between your legs.

Yet, you know him good. Underneath his good boy demeanor, there lies a bad one that he saves only for his girl. And it comes out when he’s over you, thrusting you the way you like, slow, deep and intense.

“Oh Gaaawd!”, you cry out as he locks your hands above your neck, whimpering right under his sensual moves.

Osferth smirks down on you, eyeing you with a mix of devotion and lust. Nothing looks, nor feels, better than watching you come undone… despairly so. And when you lift your legs, he slaps your bum respectfully.

“That’s my woman”, he speaks in between greeted teeth.

His pace now increases and it needs no more than a few minutes before your screams are muffled by his lips as you reach your climax. As it doesn’t before he follows you, this time forgetting to come out of your legs, not deep inside of you.

But you know what? You love it. You smile to yourself as you feel that warm liquid going right into your uterus.

Fuck the consequences. Perhaps this is what you’ve always wanted.

***

• That lavender haze, I just wanna stay in that lavender haze…

Osferth knows a perfect place to take you. Aware of your fondness for lavender fields, it’s where he drives you.

Once more, you are asleep as you two hit the road. Like usually, Osferth drives fast, (almost) never surpassing the speed limit. It amuses him, though, how easily you sleep in a car. The sight brings him peace and contentment, because there are moments you talk in your sleep and it’s often sweet words.

“I love you, Osferth. Very much so.”

It’s like the day before when you get yourselves drunk. You are more open, sentimentally speaking, when alcohol holds the reins of your tongue than otherwise sober.

“I love you too, Y/Nickname”, he mumbles, taking your hand with his right one and gently holding it.

A sigh in contentment fills the car. Today there is no radio as Osferth opts to hear the sounds of nature, as it’s raining. A sound that gladdens his introspective soul.

After a few hours, he manages to get to the destination he’s planned. Gently, he wakes you up.

“Honey”, Osferth whispers in your ear, nuzzling against your cheek. “Please wake up. I want to show you something.”

“Mm”, you purr, smiling quietly as he places tons of kisses at your forehead, cheek and nose. “Do I, really?”

“Ay”, and as you detect excitement in his voice you open your eyes. “I think you’ll like it.”

You lean to peck his lips.

“How perfect you are”, you say, smitten.

Osferth blushes, a beautiful sight to behold.

“Never perfect, my darling. I fear you have bewitched eyes.”

You giggle. He makes you sigh like a little girl after all those years, having knocked down your Irish pride with just his way of being.

“Indeed. I believe you have bewitched my body and soul.”

“I think I may have heard something like that somewhere”, he smiles at you.

But Osferth doesn’t want to waste any more of your time as he’s anxious to see how you’ll react. And when you eventually comply to his wishes and see where you have been taken to, you are speechless.

And with teary eyes.

“…my love?”, he asks, reluctant.

Right under your gaze lies a field of lavenders, a mix of green and purple with grey clouds painting the horizon. Removing your shoes off your feet, you want to feel the grass against your skin, experimenting a type of liberty rarely felt.

You’ve always wanted to connect with nature like this, and you’ve never thought…

“Oh, Osferth!”, you turn at him and throw your hands around his neck.

“A-Are you ok? I am worried whether…”

“Shush, you fool. Can’t you see how I loved this? You are the best!”

His face goes bright pink. And he hasn’t even started it yet.

“Come here, I want you to see something…”

Without hesitation, Osferth leads the way and suddenly you two are walking inside this lavender field as if you are entering another world. You cast him a puzzling look, but await until you are at the center of it, close to a lake.

There is no time to admire this idilic scenario because suddenly Osferth goes to one knee and pulls from his pocket a velvet blue small box.

“My sweet temperance, lover and best of friends, good woman of gentle heart and sharp wit”, he begins and you cannot help a sob, specially when seeing him going emotional too. “This has been a hell of a ride, hasn’t it? Literally so. But it had the sole purpose of not only bringing you close to the wilderness as it was an old dream of yours because it reminds you of the Irish countrysides and we haven’t had the opportunity to go there yet.”

“Osferth!”, is all you can say in the midst of soft sobs his sweet words put you through.

“I am no poet so allow me to be straight at once”, he clears his throat, but to no avail, for he too weeps. “You are the love of my life, Y/N. I want to take you as my wife and love you, carnally and spiritually, for the rest of my days. Will…”

“Yes!”, you throw yourself over him, knocking him down at the grass. “A thousand times yes!”

And here he is chuckling, but not kissing you until he gets to slide the ring in your finger first. Only then, amidst this lavender field, Osferth takes his soon to be wife’s face and, holding it dearly with his hands, there he kisses it, passionately too.

A perfect ending for a new beginning…

#ewan mitchell #Osferth #baby monk #modern Osferth #osferth x fem reader aesthetic #osferth x female reader #osferth x fem reader #baby osferth #osferth x y/n #osferth smut #osferth aesthetic #the last kingdom #Taylor swift #lavender haze #midnights

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whimsicalsesquipedalian · 5 months

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I know a lot of people are in the “stop giving the 60th specials credit for making the doctor queer they’ve been queer for years” camp. And correctly so. The Doctor has been queer for YEARS and we’ve all been talking about it for YEARS. I literally used the Doctor’s queerness and the 9th Doctor/Jack Harkness kiss as the opening example in my PhD presentation on queer aliens and representation last month. And it’ll go in my thesis as well.

But I also think it matters that they’ve SAID it now; both the Doctor’s transness last week, and their sexuality this week. And we should be celebrating that. And we should be loud about that. And we should be excited.

In a world where the queer community - and particularly the trans community - are under constant threat from growing conservatism and purity politics, it’s so important that it’s being SAID. That no-one can point and say “it’s ambiguous/accidental” or that “you can interpret it both ways” or that “of course that’s not what they were intending” or “it hasn’t been stated so it’s not actually queer you’re just reading too much into things” (All things my family have said about queerness in Doctor Who when I have brought it up in the past).

And I LOVE the queer rep with the Doctor that RTD gave us in the original revival and it will always mean SO much to me (I have literally not shut up about it for years and my fam will attest). I love that they cast Jodie and opened that door. I have Opinions about the treatment of queerness (both of the doctor and companions) in the Moffat and Chibnall eras. But that’s for another time.

But I also LOVE that it’s been said now. And that the phrase “Is this who I am now?” allows for openness, allows for the doctors queerness to be as fluid and elastic as they are themself.

This is RTD saying: Yes. That queerness you have all seen in the doctor for so long, that was real and that was there and that still is there, and now I get to SAY that it’s there and make it undeniable.

And I’m really fucking excited about that.

#doctor who #russel t davies #queer #long post #opinion

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touchlikethesun · 1 year

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what i think the marauders would study at uni (because i'm procrastinating on my uni work)

james: psychology, with a plan to get a masters in social work, he wants to be a child psychologist so bad it's not even funny

sirius: theatre, he's dramatic and the stage loves him, was there ever even a question - he's in like 3 student productions a term on top of his course work, and it barely phases him

remus: linguistics, i think remus would find linguistics, especially sociolinguistics really fascinating, but he'd dabble in kind of every subfield - he lives in the library and loves pouring over data sets and grammar trees (was a fervent chomskyian until studying austronesian languages and now chomsky is his greatest enemy)

peter: maths, this one i have less of a reason for, just because i know a few mathematicians that remind me of peter (this is a good thing they are good friends of mine)

lily: biochem, i think she has a special interest in like some endangered small mammal and intends to dedicate many many years to studying and trying to save it

mary: history and politics, but like focusing on the history of social movements, again, i think mary is a little activist and she gets into debates with PPE-ists and absolutely obliterates them

marlene: physics, marlene is super smart but in like a really laid back way, no one thinks she studies physics, but really she's finishing her degree with multiple offers for phd programs

dorcas: art history, dorcas is an art hoe if ever i met one, and on top of her degree in art history she also somehow is finding time to paint paintings for student exhibitions (also stem x art gfs with marls sooo)

pandora: french and italian, not linguistics but literature, she absolutely loves french and italian literature, italian poetry and french victorian lit, also i feel like french and italian lit are like... pretty... just like her :)

barty: PPE (politics), he is the one that mary most consistently owns in debates and it frustrates him to no end. only doing it because he went to a super posh boarding school and his dad is making him.

evan: law, and he hates it

regulus: CLASSICS CLASSICS CLASSICS literally there is no other option regulus is a classicist and he loves it and he goes to every lecture reads the entire reading list for each essay

#i wanted to say that reg reads philo but i know in my heart of hearts that that is wrong #we are different people and that's okay #james potter #sirius #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #pandora lovegood #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #regulus black #marauders #marauders headcanon

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lakesbian · 9 months

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Do Brian & Aisha & Alec for the blorbo bingo obviously :p

alec:

almost everyone but me is wrong about him. gnawing on wildbow's leg like a rabid dog for dropping the ball in the gender and sexuality department. there has got to be SOME reason i like him so much but i have no idea what it is. did not expect to care about him even remotely but his death put him in my brain forever against my will. i can make him worse. and will hypothetically sometimes for fun. he is chilling on the couch in my mind palace in perpetuum. i want to take him out for ice cream as a special treat. the thing is that i Would say "alec did nothing wrong" as a somewhat facetious rebuttal of the fandom spaces that think he's an ontologically evil cunt for being sexually abused when he was 12 but the same people also genuinely believe he did nothing wrong in his interlude and subsequently i cannot say "alec did nothing wrong" without sounding exactly like said people. so i compromise with "alec did 2 things wrong and the things redditors think he did wrong are none of them," which technically isn't true either, but captures my intended sentiment close enough. i love him forever

aisha:

ilove her forever. she's done nothing wrong in her entire life, ever, at any point in time. i wish her existence was pleasant and easy. please stop putting her in situations. alec is my favorite in a "inexplicable bout of autism" way but aisha is my favorite worm character in a "favorite with all inexplicable bouts of autism aside" way. i wish ward was about aisha. fuck vicky i want an entire book about aisha. everythign ever should be about aisha. extremely underrated undersider. i wish i was autistic about aisha instead of alec so i could inspire an Aishaposting Renaissance on wormblr instead of just an alec one. we should set wildbow's car on fire once for every Wildbow Moment involved in the writing of aisha laborn. also i should clarify. most worm fandom takes about the undersiders are incorrect in general, so i'm defining "fandom" here as just wormblr and not the broader worm fandom--wormblr generally understands miss aisha laborn imo

brian:

every time i think too hard about the way wildbow fucks up writing brian i morph into a man literally too angry to die. there's soooo much interesting shit there and then he just fully forgets to make any of it relevant. Gnawing On His Leg Like A Rabid Dog. i Love brian he's one of the top characters ever. there's something about an exceedingly normal guy who isn't Actually normal but Thinks he is because everyone else is so much weirder than him that's so funny and endearing. i wish his life didn't suck so much but also i love watching how much it sucks. we should all post about him more. i intend to get a phd in brian laborn upon worm reread.

#ask #worm spoilers #scarf don't look #i forgot the lost potential square was there #imagine its checked for brian

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ntandosindanesays · 1 year

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lit review, innit?

I said somewhere that dissertation-writing is a weird experience because on some days it feels l am cooking something really special, the on other days I feel like I do not even know what I am doing. But, I know for certain that I am actually good at this - I have done it before, and I think I did it quite well. At this moment, I am crafting the literature review. I can’t shake off the words of one colleague - in a conversation a few months, he said to us that PhDs are scheme that was started by a group of old silly white male academics. Apparently, they wanted to ensure that their work gets cited by many people, so they introduced PhDs and subjected each candidate to a literature review - see how it works? Even if I do not like what you have written, or even if it is not remotely resonating with my own intended study, I have to cite you anyways, albeit in a footnote, I still need to show that I have engaged with your work. It sounded like hilarious academic conspiracy when he said these things to us, but now they make so much sense. Yes, I have had to mention John Locke again somewhere - in fucken 2023! Oi!

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cursedcleopatra · 1 year

Note

Hi Mae, hope you’re living your best life in France. I came on here sometime about asking for career advice. I came to you about becoming a special agent and realized that the 50+ hours a week, on call 24/7, not being able to travel anymore, and just the overall work/life balance isn’t for me. but I think I allowed the whole title get to me. Can I ask what you intend on wanting to focus when you’re done with your masters? I know it was law based. What did you major in undergrad and what’s your masters in now?

Hi lovely, thank you, I hope you’re doing well ❤️ I’m sorry to hear that, but happy that you know what doesn’t feel right for you. I finished my masters already in June! For my undergrad I did political science & international relations and for graduate school I decided to do international economics actually! I’m currently pursuing a PhD in political science while working 🥰

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adventuresinclientservice · 1 year

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Do mentors matter?

In case you’re wondering why I’m posting on Thanksgiving, when most of you are celebrating a holiday rather than reading this, the answer is simple: it’s a holiday in the U.S. but for many for my readers who call elsewhere home, it is not. For those of you who are gathering with family and friends, enjoy and be safe!

Phi Beta Kappa, the still-prestigious-now-overlooked academic honor society I mentioned in a previous post, got in touch recently to ask if I would volunteer as mentor to another PBK member. After saying yes, I was assigned a wicked- smart recent graduate of Cal Berkely in search of her first, “real” job.

She didn’t get to choose me and I didn’t choose her, a far from ideal situation, but even so, could I help with this?

If you look at my website, you’ll see I specialize in “behavior change.” Getting a job and forging a career is among the most meaningful, albeit terrifying, reasons why people rely on coaches like me for help. It’s exactly the type of behavior change I welcome.

Surprisingly, our early Zoom conversations led to a discovery: I would learn as much from my new client as she would from me, proving the potency of simple conversation to work through a challenge. They also reminded me of how often I’ve been the on the receiving-rather-than-giving end of such exchanges, starting with Professor A. E. Clayessens.

Claey – or “Clay” as we called him; no one could figure out how to pronounce let alone spell his last name -- was such a gifted teacher it prompted me to take eight of his classes (yes, eight, meaning 25% of my time) during my four undergraduate years at George Washington University. Planning to be a lawyer, I was inspired to abandon that to pursue a PhD in literature, intending to become a college professor, an enormous change in my life trajectory.

Claey’s impact was profound, but what did I learn? A way to think, to explore, to reason, and to debate, recognizing the power of language to inspire, to motivate, and to lead.

Peter Smith oversaw the editorial group at MacMillan Publishers that hired me for my first job out of college. The salary was embarrassing, even then -- $125 a week – but Peter was a superb editor willing to share what he knew.

What did I learn? Meticulousness and attention to detail, not to speak of the coded language editors use in working with writers, which would prove incredibly useful in the years to come.

When I arrived at my first real advertising agency job, I quickly found myself lost in a jangle of confusion, having no idea what I was doing or why. Enter Kristen Wainwright, my first boss at Digitas, who remained a sea of calm in a storm of chaos.

What did I learn? How to navigate, survive, then ultimately thrive under duress that would doom others.

In those early days at Digitas, I was deathly afraid of having to stand in front of a client, let alone a colleague, to give a presentation. After one deflating stumble too many, my confidence under siege, one of the agency’s top executives, John Fletcher, stopped by my office: “You have the ability and talent to be a really good presenter, Robert, you just need to prepare a little better by rehearsing.”

What did I learn? The discipline needed to practice, practice, and then practice some more, until I got it almost right.

Of all the people who helped me the one who stood out was Digitas Creative Director Mike Slosberg, so much so I invoke him in my books and workshops, and find myself blogging about the immeasurable value of his counsel.

What did I learn? So many things, more than I can possibly credit here, but above all, how a well-crafted Creative Brief is critically important to making great work.

In my early days as an unformed, ill-prepared account weenie, the people I’ve cited come to mind as I forged a path that initially became a career, then a vocation, and ultimately a calling. On this day of giving thanks, I am deeply thankful for all these helpers, and for the many unnamed others who were generous with their time, patient with my shortcomings, and constructively critical yet supportive when I needed it most.

Do mentors matter? Of course they matter. Would I refer to them as mentors? I certainly don’t think of myself in this way; the term is just a little too lofty. And I don’t think of the countless people who I came to rely on in this way either.

The term I prefer is friend.

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eb1visalawyer · 2 years

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How Can You Get An EB-2 Visa Job In The Unified States?

If you operate a specialized field as a physician, business manager or even educator, with from least a master? s degree, you have the right to get a specific type of Australian visa called EB-2.

A EB-2 visa is fairly popular because it permits you to live within the United States permanently. There are usually three sets of people who qualify.

EB-2 Advanced Degree: To someone who will be a professional having an advanced degree and also has a task offer from an US company.

EB-2 Exceptional Ability: This is for a person with exceptional capability in the field of science, business or perhaps arts and in addition has a career offer from the US company.

EB-2 National Interest Waiver: This is for someone with exceptional ability, or even an advanced degree, who else can prove that their very own work will benefit the US.

How can I Qualify For a great EB-2 Visa together with an Advanced Diploma?

Applicants with this type must have an advanced degree. That method a minimum of an expert? s degree or you should have counterpart qualifications. Equivalent certification could mean fewer college but a lot of encounter in your field of work. Usually a minimum of five decades? is necessary and an individual will need some sort of confirmed US work offer. Documents an individual will need contain.

Proof of an advanced degree, such as a masters or PhD.

Evidence of a bachelors? s degree in addition to proof that you have worked in the field for at least five decades.

Proof of a great US job. The job offer you must require the advanced degree or equivalent.

How am I eligible for an EB-2 Visa with Excellent Ability?

Applicants within this category must demonstrate exceptional ability. Which means you are far better than a lot of people in the field involving sciences, arts or perhaps business. You should also have at least 10 years? experience working inside your field plus a confirmed US job offer. An individual will need in order to meet a minimum of a few of the next requirements.

Proof associated with an academic certification in the field.

Evidence which you have worked at least ten years inside your field.

A specialist license (if needed for your line involving work.)

Resistant that you simply earn some sort of salary consistent with the level of knowledge.

Membership to specialist groups in your own field.

Proof of awards and awards. Showing that your advantages have been acknowledged by peers throughout the same type of work.

How Do I Be eligible for an EB-2 Visa with a new National Interest Waiver?

Applicants within this category must show that will it is in the best curiosity with the US intended for them to increase legal, permanent house. This means, demonstrating that the talents in addition to exceptional ability throughout your profession will certainly benefit the US. You will need to meet at the least of the pursuing requirements.

Proof involving an academic degree in your discipline of exceptional capacity.

Proof that you have been employed in your field for at least 10 years.

The professional license (if needed for the line of work.)

Proof that you earn a salary in range with your level of experience.

Membership to specialist groups in your industry.

Proof of awards and awards. Demonstrating that your efforts have been recognized by simply peers within the exact same line of work.

What are the particular Three Steps which will get an EB-2 Visa for Australia?

Now that you know what type you fall straight into, there are three more procedure for getting the EB-2 visa.

PERM/Labor Certification. This holds for? Program with regard to Electronic Review Administration.? Your employer will have to show proof that you're not taking apart employment from an US worker. This particular can be achieved by showing proof that the company was unable in order to recruit someone area to fill typically the position (like a newspaper ad in the classified part.)

I-140 Migration Petition. This will be filed by typically the employer and proves they are in a position to pay your own wage. In addition, it shows that you meet all the job requirements.

I-485 Application to modify Status. Following the previous a couple of steps are total, the last action is to implement to be a permanent resident of the US. You can carry out this by stuffing our Form I-485, which can end up being found here: https://www.uscis.gov/i-485

On average, it takes six months in order to process Form I-140. In the event the US government requires that an individual go through PERM Labor Certification, it can take longer. In many cases, it can take back up to two decades. The good news is, you may speed up the procedure with premium control.

#eb2 visa #eb2 #eb2 green card

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superphantom · 2 years

Text

It’s Christmas, Danny Phantom!

Welcome to the Superphantom Christmas special! I honestly can’t say I’m the biggest fan of Christmas myself, so this mayyy be a little bit of Santa slander. sorry? I hope to have the entire fic posted by Christmas, but it’s getting a bit longer than I intended for it to be. Either way, I’m having a really fun time writing it. Enjoy the prologue!

The picking had been rather dry for the last few months on the hunting front. Near complete silence from murderous supernatural creatures should be a good thing, a chance to relax. Instead, they were getting incredibly stir crazy. The library was almost completely catalogued, a testament to just how bored they were. Dean had turned to cleaning out the impala. He sorted through weapons, bottles of various substances (lamb’s blood doesn’t keep well. Especially when left under a seat for god knows how long), and old papers and floppy discs washed up into seams like they were sand the ocean had swept in. That last one was quite a surprise to find. With their Dad having died literal years ago and their general ransacking of all his notes there was little they didn’t know about his life. Or so they thought, at least.

Dean carried in a light cardboard box. All the technology within it was years out of date.

“Sammy, come look at this,” He shouted as he walked through the kitchen into the war room. Sam (who was rereading and notating a particularly dry book on Australian myths) shot in.

“What is it? Do you have a case?”

“Maybe. I think I found some of Dad’s old stuff, like old stuff.” He said, holding up a blue floppy disc.

Sam considered it, snapping and pointing at him. “Hold on, I remember unpacking a reader with all of Frank’s stuff.”

Sam, god bless him, took less than two minutes to go from the storage room they’d designated as the tech closet and back. Neither of them was particularly great with technology, especially as far as setting it up goes. A life on the road’ll do that to you. But messing with wires and trying not to get shocked was a welcome change. Finally, they had a new task to work towards. The computer systems were much too old to run tech as recent as the 80s, but the screens still worked just fine when running solely on the reader, if a little slow, malformed, glitchy. It was like running twitter on a 3Ds.

Three grey files popped up on the screen. The computer lacked a mouse, so Sam had to tediously click through them on the keyboard. The way Dean breathed over his shoulder, you would think him the younger sibling. Sam double clicked on the first one. A little loading ball appeared, rotating in small black and white increments. The lack of progress bar was a little disheartening. Each tick of the ball seemed to come slower than the last.

“You want snacks? I’m gonna go get some snacks.” Dean left his brother to lean on his palm and attempt to keep his eyes open. A bag of pretzels later the file finally opened. It was an archive of a newspaper, The Spectator. A big red banner ran across the top of the screen, headlined with the University of Wisconsin logo. The front page was pretty standard, welcoming students back to campus and giving their opinions on housing prices and coffee shops. A few pages down in the entertainment section a small clipping on band called the Skunk Punks caught his eye.

“Look at those mullets, yikes.”

“It was a different time.” Dean shook his head.

The real kicker was at the very bottom, barely a paragraph long. Tacked onto the bottom was a grainy photo of a woman and two men, all with iconically 80s haircuts.

Pictured: The Ectobiology Research Club. PhD Students Jack Fenton, Maddie Walker and Vlad Masters have successfully constructed “the first fully functional portal to the Ghost Zone”. Meetings are at 8 daily, all are welcome.

“Ghost Zone, huh. That sound familiar to you?” Dean squinted at the words as if the blocky text might contain more detail.

Sam shook his head. “Not that I can remember. Either way a portal to anywhere sounds like a bad idea.”

The next file took half the time to load, still enough to brew a pot of coffee. Dean set the pot down on the map table, wisely keeping it nearby. This page was full of notes. Photocopied chicken scratch of equations and diagrams, all detailing a miniature portal. Trying to read it cohesively was impossible, and figuring it out in chunks was just as boring as all the reading and organising they’d been doing before.

The third one contained screenshots. This time of emails.

--------

To: Jack Fenton 5779025813356327189 Thurs. 20 Nov 1980 10:42

From: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Mr. Fenton

What exactly is the function of your “Ghost Zone Portal”? I have great interest in your work and would like to meet up to compare notes.

Owen Booker.

--------

“Not another portal, for fuck’s sake.”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Thurs. 20 Nov 1980 11:00 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker

8790976895877463565

Dear Owne booker

We’re studying ghosts bringing the supernatural to the forefront! Club meetings are at 8 all are welcome we will be happy to see you!!!!!

Jack Fenton

--------

“Is this guy drunk?”

“He’s Dad’s friend, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

--------

To: Jack Fenton Thurs. 20 Nov. 1980 11:00 5779025813356327189

From: Owen Booker

8790976895877463565

Dear Mr. Fenton

I will be there. Thank you.

Owen Booker.

--------

“Jack Fenton… I feel like I’ve heard that name before. Any chance this email is still active?”

“I’ll go get my laptop.”

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From: Jack Fenton Mon. 1 June 1985 01:00 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Hello! Sorry for the break in correspondence, there was an accident. On the plus side, we’ve made exciting new strides in our research! Come over and catch up anytime, Jack and I have relocated. Look us up in Amity Park, Michigan.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“Oh, they got married. Good for them.”

“Wasn’t there three of them though? What’dya think happened to the other guy.

--------

From: Jack Fenton Fri. 12 Jan 1987 12:27 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Hello! Happy New Year. Just wanted to let you know we’ve relocated. 336 Sattee Creek Way, look for the Fenton Works sign, you can’t miss it. One of our samples has shown reactivity to harsh weather. More details will be provided in person.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“Sounds like a hipster tech startup.”

“Timing’s right, it might be one.”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Fri. 14 May 1990 15:50 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Big project in progress. I think you’ll be interested. Feel free to bring George and Logan along. We have a new son.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“George and Logan? Those are really the names Dad chose for us?”

“You’re just mad ‘cuz you got George.”

“Shut up, you’re George.”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Sun. 28 Sept. 1996 03:03 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

First official tests failed. What do you know about motors? Tests on enhancing explosive properties are inconclusive.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“I don’t like that these people have explosives.”

“It says inconclusive. Maybe they didn’t work?”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Mon. 07 Jan. 2000 07:41 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Thank you for stopping by. Hope you had a safe drive. Seeing some new progress on the portal. Should be up and running in the next few years. We’d like to invite you to come over next year as well.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“Looks like they didn’t end up getting blown up, that’s good.”

“Looks like Dad was with them for New Years. He said he was hunting a shapeshifter.”

“Oh, I remember that year. I mean, speaking of explosives…”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Sat. 30 Nov. 2008 23:10 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Hey bookie! Guess what! I cannot tell you i n email. Remember when you used to come over for holidays ? we are having a party would love to see you. Come stay for christmas you can stay in dannys room!!!!!!!!!

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

----------

“This one’s from only a few days ago,” Sam frowned. “What do you think?”

“Why the hell not, we need to check out this portal of theirs anyway. You feelin’ merry, Sam?”

“You bet. But if you put the on Christmas station in the car, I am jumping out.”

“Promise?”

“Shut up, jerk.”

“Jingle bells! Jingle bells!…….”

#danny phantom #supernatural #superphantom #christmas #It's Christmas Danny Phantom!#the christmas special #my writing #superphantom fanfiction #superphantom fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #this was an absolute nightmare to format. I'm never doing letters or emails or whatever again.#constructive critism welcome #i honestly can't remember dean's opinion on christmas so hes gonna be fuckin jolly!

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

��Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

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aromantic-enjolras · 2 years

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Prof Grantaire AU ExR backstory

So a week and a bit ago I published a fic called “Rumour Has It” where a bunch of students gossiped about the love life of their professor, Dr. Grantaire, and almost all the comments asked for more info. So here you go. ^^

Grantaire in his early twenties was not a nice person to be around. He was struggling with an unidentified mental health issue that he refused to get treatement for, he thought being a troll was the height of humour, he lashed out at the slightest provocation, and on top of all that he had started a Degree in Fine Arts that was slowly but surely eroding the pleasure he took from art, his one refuge while in high school.

He got dragged to the ABC by Joly and Bossuet, trying to give him something to do, something to believe in. He mostly sat in a corner and made “Internet troll” comments. Let’s say that during that period, his relationship with Enjolras was.... rocky (understatement of the century).

After he dropped out of uni, he hit rock bottom. Without something to get him out of bed in the morning (not that he went to class a lot, but it was at least something), it was worse than it ever had. At the end it was Musichetta who managed to get through to him and get him to get help.

Years later, when he was a lot more stable, he decided to give uni another chance, and started a Classics degree. It wasn’t easy at first, but he managed to get through the first years and discovered his calling. During that time, his relationship with Enjolras finally got out of the antagonistic hell it was in and towards something that could tentatively be considered a real friendship.

When he declared his intention of continuing in Grad School and try for a PhD, the Amis were all kind of scared. In particular, Enjolras was very worried. He had watched Combeferre (steady, competent Combeferre) break down multiple times during his PhD, and from his friend’s comments, he knew it wasn’t unusual. Grantaire was in such a better place now, wouldn’t this make him relapse?

As such, he decided to take it upon himself to make sure it didn’t happen. He came by his office several times a week to drag him out for a break, he asked questions about his subject, he checked on him, he made sure never to give him ABC business if he looked stressed out... One of the consequences of that was that they spent a lot of time together, and they discovered that once they stopped arguing, they had quite a lot of fun together...

The rest of the Amis were baffled at first about the sudden shift in dynamic, and also about Enjolras’ insistence on taking care of Grantaire himself (he does know that he lives with JBM, right?), but at some point, it became clear that Enjolras wasn’t just taking care of a friend. He was pining. Hard.

Yes, Enjolras was perfectly aware of it. But after Grantaire admitted that he used to idolize Enjolras and that it messed with his head a lot, he decided that making a move wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to be idolized, and he didn’t want to send Grantaire back there. On top of it, at that time he was in half a dozen projects himself, and he was self-aware enough to know that he didn’t have the energy for a relationship. Being friends with him was already cool. He didn’t need more.

After he defended his thesis (with a special awknowlegment to “Enjolras, what would I have done without your coffee breaks” next to his half a paragraph about JBM), Grantaire spent a few years doing post-docs all around France, every year in a different city. He kept contact with the Amis, of course, but it was different.

When he finally got a professorship in Paris (when he puts his mind to it he’s very good at what he does, who would have thought! \s), Grantaire asked Enjolras for a coffee and asked him out. He had hopes, because Bahorel had let slip that they all thought he returned his feelings, but he was still nervous. Actually, he had prepared a whole speech, he even intended to quote Jane Austen (”You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were then, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever”), but when the time came he just kind of blurted “would you go out with me? I promise I won’t ask to black your boots!”. Once Enjolras stopped laughing, they talked about it and decided that they were both in a place where they could do it in a healthy way, and decided to give it a try.

Years after, when the French government finally legalized gay marriage, it was Enjolras who proposed. It was longwinded and kind of awkward (I’m picturing Perchick from ‘Fiddler of the Roof’), going on long asides about how the institution of marriage was a vetust institution that was meant to isolate workers from each other while creating a subservient part of the population, and stuff like that, but by that point Grantaire was good at decoding romantic statements from political rants. So he just said yes.

They had two ceremonies. One was the official one with the mayor, at the demonstration on the first day of legalization, a political act more than a personal one (yes, this was for Enjolras).

The other one started as a joke from Bossuet. “Honestly, R, you’re such a nerd I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up getting married by the Ancient Greek rites”. Grantaire laughed his heart out, but the idea shimmered and grew. And yes, they did end up having an Ancient Greek ceremony, as historically accurate as they could (and considering one of the grooms was a professor in Ancient Greece, that’s a hell of a lot accurate). A collegue of Grantaire officiated, and they “sacrified” a plushie. Grantaire says that it was the happiest day of his life (a good part of that was the fact that he had managed to convince Enjolras to don a chiton. He will guard those pictures with his life).

Well, I was expecting to talk about my OCs a bit too, but this has gotten way out of hand, so that will be a separate post. Hope you enjoyed them!

@frhog, @pumpkinspice-prouvaire, @cielosky, @peoplearescary, @juliensorelisoverparty, @buffintruder ^^

#Les Misérables #text posts #my posts #my headcanons #headcanons #mental health issues #Academia #Academia: if you don’t have a mental illness on arriving we’ll provide you with one free of charge #Grantaire #Enjolras #ships #ExR #long posts

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blushingreid · 4 years

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Girls’ Night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

BAU Ladies x Fem!Reader

A/N: Based on this scene in s7ep16 “A Family Affair” (I almost cried Bc I thought I couldn’t find the gifs). We were ROBBED not seeing anything from their girls' night ! So I wrote a lil one-shot about what “happened” during their wild night w/ reader ofc. I hope y’all enjoy it & slide some feedback <3

“Wow you look amazing,” Spencer complimented once y/n emerged from the bathroom. After many cancellations because of cases, she and the BAU ladies were finally having their girls’ night. Penelope had insisted and convinced them to check out a new salsa club that recently opened near her apartment. Spencer had volunteered to watch Henry the couple hours they’d be gone.

Y/n finished putting on her earrings and sauntered over to Spencer who was watching her at the door. “Thanks again for doing this Spence,” she said before leaning up to give him a kiss. She intended for it to be a quick one, but as she was pulling away, Spencer had wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back in for more.

After finally breaking apart for air, y/n’s thumb lightly traced across his bottom lip as they gazed into each other’s eyes, neither one of them pulling apart. “You’re gonna be the reason I’m late.”

Spencer sighed and gave her one last kiss before they headed over to JJ’s. The car ride was quick, even though Spencer had insisted on taking the “scenic route” so he could spend a couple more minutes alone with y/n. When they finally arrived at the house, not even 10 seconds had passed after they rang the doorbell before it quickly swung open.

“The lovebirds have finally arrived,” Penelope announced as she opened the door and ushered them in.

Emily waltzed out of the kitchen holding two shot glasses in her hands. With a big smile on her face, she handed y/n one of them. “Yessssss, we can finally get this party started!” she cheered as she watched y/n give her a fake hurt look as she grabbed the shot glass.

“You started pre-gaming without me I see,” y/n teased before tossing back the shot. Spencer’s eyes widened for a brief second as he watched y/n take the shot without a question. He’d never seen her drunk so he wondered how big her alcohol tolerance was.

“Hey you girlies can’t be too drunk before we get to where we’re going,” Penelope whined, snatching the second shot glass out of Emily’s hand.

Emily’s pleas for it back were interrupted when JJ finally walked out the living room. “Okay, so I got Henry in his little playpen watching Bubble Guppies. That should keep him pretty entertained for a while.”

“Great because our uber is here,” Penelope excitedly announced, opening the door to head out, Emily and y/n following behind her.

“We’ll only be gone for a couple hours. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything,” JJ said as she headed out the door.

Seeing the worry and hesitation in her eyes, Spencer gently ushered her out the door. “I have 3 PhDs, I think I can handle my godson. Go have fun and be safe!” Watching them pile into the car, Spencer stuck his head out the door and waved bye. A hint of worry and curiosity entered his mind about what kind of trouble they would get into.

JJ sighed once she got into the car. Sensing her worry, y/n gave her hand a gentle squeeze. The car ride was filled with JJ, y/n, and Emily profiling their driver while Penelope ranted about a woman she met in the grocery store the other day. They hadn’t realized they’d arrived until the driver hit the breaks a little too hard. Maybe he’d heard their whispers about him.

“You girlies are gonna love this place,” Penelope squealed as she got out of the car.

“As long as they got some hotties, good music, and alcohol, I’ll love any club you take me to,” Emily said as they entered, she had already starting checking out the club goers. “I’ll grab a table for us.”

“I’ll grab the drinks!” Penelope said, disappearing into the crowd. JJ and y/n looked at each other, silently communicating who should go with who. JJ going with Emily while y/n followed Penelope towards the bar.

As they were waiting for the bartender to make them the special drink of the night, y/n felt an arm wrap around her waist. She instantly shoved it off and spun around to face the stranger. Before she could even tell him to buzz off, Penelope stepped in front of her. “She has a mans already, back off! You’re no where as cute as our Boy Genius,” Penelope barked at the man, staring him down until he left.

“Aw my savior,” y/n awed as she gave Penelope a kiss on the cheek.

After finally getting their drinks and wrestling through all the sweaty bodies, y/n and Penelope found Emily and JJ at a table.

“Finally! I thought Jayje and I were going to have to send out a search party for you two.” Emily handed one of the glasses to JJ and raised hers in the air. “To girls’ night! Who knows when we’ll ever have another one.”

“To girls’ night!” they cheered, toasting.

“What did you even get us?” JJ coughed after taking a sip of the drink.

Unfazed by the strength of the drink, Emily drank every last drop. “All that matters is it looks pretty and tastes good.”

“The bartender said the green fairy was the special of the night, so I figure we go big or go home,” Penelope shrugged before downing her drink. “Now c’mon ladies, show me that them hips don’t lie,” she said as she headed towards the dance floor.

Y/n hesitated for a second before downing her drink and dancing towards Penelope, who was already mixed into the crowd.

JJ took one last sip of her drink and gave Emily her best puppy eyes. “Em come on, let’s join them,” she pleaded.

Emily sighed loudly, not being able to resist JJ, especially her puppy eyes. “The only salsa I want right now belongs on chips,” Emily groaned as she let JJ drag her towards the dance floor.

After a couple green fairies later and some sloppy dancing all night, they somehow managed to all stumble back to Penelope’s apartment. They barely made it inside before the four of them immediately collapsed from exhaustion.

“I just waaannt y’aaaall to know,... that I lurv you biiiiiitches. I’d step on anyoneee for youu beautiful angeelss,” Emily slurred before passing out on the floor in front of the couch.

“I f-feel like I wasss uh s‘posed tooo do som’thang. Sleeeeeep sounds better though,” JJ mumbled before dozing off.

The next morning, while they were all peacefully sleeping, JJ was woken up by a buzzing. She couldn’t tell if the buzzing was from her head or something else. Feeling around the couch, her hand was met with a cool object. She held it up to her face, waiting for her vision to clear up. 7:12. Seeing the time, instantly she remembered what she forgot. She sat up and threw a pillow at Emily to wake her.

“Oh no no no! I told Spencer we’d be back in a couple of hours. I left him all alone with Henry!” JJ panicked before running to the bathroom, feeling sick.

“Please. Stop. Yelling. My head is killing me,” Emily groggily muttered.

“I’m sure Will relieved him of his babysitting duties once he got home last night,” Penelope reassured, clutching her head while she went to grab some water. She didn’t make it far into her kitchen before she walked into something, well someone.

“I’m never drinking that much again. My back and my head hurts,” y/n groaned, waking up on the kitchen floor. Penelope helped her stand up before handing her a glass of water.

The next hour went by in a chaotic blur. From each of them throwing up multiple times, JJ’s panicked phone calls to Will about Henry, Emily tripping over Penelope’s shoe collection, and fighting y/n for the cereal, they somehow all managed to make it in time to cheer on Hotch. Slowly, all four of them walked towards the finish line gates. Each wearing their comfiest clothes and biggest sunglasses. They all looked like they’d been hit by a car, and sounded like it too with all the groans they were making.

“Well well well, look who finally made it. We thought y’all weren’t gonna show up till the race was finished,” Morgan teased, Jack sitting on top of his shoulders.

“Couple hours! Couple hours! ‘Oh Spence don’t worry, we’ll only be gone a couple hours.’ And you all didn’t come back home until sunrise!”

“Why are you yelling?” JJ muttered clutching her head.

“Y/n make your man stop,” Emily pleaded as she leaned on the race’s barricade.

Realizing she and her friends have suffered enough, Y/n wrapped her arms around Spencer’s neck and whispered something in his ear before giving him a quick kiss and turning back towards the race. No one heard what she said except Spencer, whose face immediately turned red. He remained quiet the rest of the race, only until he spotted Hotch reaching the finish line.

“So what’d you say to Pretty Boy to get him to shut up?”

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kari69a-deactivated20220420 · 3 years

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university’s starting, here’s some things i wish i’d known going in:

9 times out of 10, if you have a question, 3 other ppl in the room have the same question and are too scared to ask. if you don’t want to say “what? wait, what?” here are some alternatives (still raise your hand):

“sorry, could you just revisit what you said on x? that seemed to be skimmed over”

“yeah, i don’t think i fully got that the way you intended. can you please give me an example?”

workarounds like these are a lifesaver with imposter syndrome, you don’t have to feel dumb for not getting something right away. profs can assume a learned audience, it’s natural to not be as in the loop as people would assume you are!

if you take notes with a laptop - start a collaborative google doc to take notes in class, ask a few ppl with laptops to join. you each contribute to it, and that way, if you have to miss a class because fate had it against you that day, you’re not out of luck.

c’s get degrees. the smartest people i know have all failed courses. it literally does not matter once you get out of academia.

the institution wants you to succeed in your education (because if looks better for them, if nothing else), so take advantage of academic advising or student union reps. they’ll vouch for you if you can’t vouch for yourself.

speaking of vouching for yourself - talk to your profs in advance when you’re struggling. it’s much better to reach out with something along the lines of “hey I’m having a tough time with (term paper, lab report, whatever) due to difficult circumstances (you don’t have to say what they are if they’re personal. that can be your business). I apologize for having to ask for an extension, but could I get some help with this?”

i know Very well how hard it can be to be straightforward with people and tell them you’re struggling. especially in academia, especially when you’re starting out, but really, it’s nothing they havent heard before.

hell, if it’s a prof’s first year teaching, it’s nothing they haven’t tried before. you don’t make it to a PhD without some humanity.

people are just as scared as you to make new friends. you’re in a new situation, but you’re all opting to be there.

it is 100% possible to focus on your grades too much to the point that it becomes a detriment to your academic performance. there are no a-grades without proper reflection. really. take a breather.

you will run out of all-nighters. maybe not in your first year, but it is not sustainable. if you’re pulling an all-nighter, DO NOT drink more than one 5 hour energy. it doesn’t work like that, you’ll be loopy and in pain if you take a second drink 5 hours after your first. caffeine, power nap it out for 20 mins while it kicks in, wake back up, bip bam boom!

you are a person before you’re a student <3.

your major may not be what you initially imagined - creative writing at my school was too student-led (read: workshops) that it drove me insane. so i didn’t pursue it!

it’s actually very smart to pursue a degree that will get you a day job. you can easily become burnt out on your passion. if you have the capability to pursue a field that you’ll manage well enough in as to leave room in your personal life for creative projects, by all means, go ahead. no shame in having a job that you’re good at and simply pays the bills.

your essay will look like it’s 2% done for like, 60% of it.

if laptop screens make you lose focus, sit in the front and handwrite your notes. going analog is better than aimlessly scrolling.

MARGINALIA!! highlight your textbooks! do it! dog ear! you bought them! be evil with them!

you’re in charge of your well-being, and you don’t have to stick with a situation just because you’ve done it for a long time. shitty doctor? find a new one. take it from me, it doesn’t blow over.

if your school covers medical expenses like therapy, seek it out.

and lastly, ratemyprof! you probably already know this one, but did you know that you can search ratings by course? a prof’s helpfulness can vary between specialized and introductory courses - a prof i had in a 3rd year course struggled with teaching first year english to science students as part of their requirement, but he was great in the 3rd year course. specialized vs mandated courses really are two different ball games.

i’m in my last year now, and if i had known these, it would’ve done wonders for both my health and academic performance. i love you all <3

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