#i was going to write an email to the professor asking for the link of the team bc it's still not up

[weemssapphic]

I see you opened your requests hehehe. This little idea popped into my head and i can’t get it out. So it’s larissa x reader and r is the new principal since everyone thought larissa died but tn tn tnnnn she’s alive and she comes back to nevermore but only as a professor since they already hired r which doesn’t sit right with larissa and she automatically doesn’t like r. So they bicker all the time until they just hate fuck one day (how it came to that point is totally up to you) and pleaseeee i need them to fuck the shit out of eachother. Then when it’s done r admits that she would much rather just be a professor, that being principal is too much for her and she’ll back down from the position.

Anywaysss that’s it and make it as long as you want if you decide to write it :) (love all of your work btw)

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK (*hides in shame*). I do hope this makes up for it, I found it very fun to write and, though it took a different turn than I'd originally planned, I am happy with how it turned out! And thank you so much 🤍

like a candle flame

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Words: ~ 7.5k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: angst, lots of bickering and arguments, enemies to lovers (sorta), unhealthy relationship / power dynamic, coma, mentions of ptsd/anxiety??, nsfw (smut): hate sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, marking

Principal of Nevermore Academy: it certainly had a nice ring to it.

The past years all led up to this: after finishing university and getting your masters in education, you’d scored a teaching position at a school for outcasts in California. Being an outcast yourself, you were grateful for the opportunity that had opened up - teaching was a passion of yours, certainly, but teaching outcasts, kids like you, that was a dream come true. Eventually, you took over assistant principal duties at the school and you had to admit you liked the change of pace, being involved in the administrative side of things for once.

During your time in California, you’d set your eye on Nevermore Academy - another prestigious school for outcasts, the first school of its kind. And when you’d heard of an opening for a new principal? You just had to apply. The position was posted at rather short notice - apparently, there had been an incident involving the previous principal, who’d been in a coma for weeks and hadn’t shown any signs of recovering. They needed to find someone to fill in for the new school year - fast - and, as though it were fate, your application was immediately accepted.

The school year at Nevermore had been going on for a few weeks now and your new office was finally starting to feel like your own. You’d made a few changes in decoration - some of the prior principal’s decor was a bit odd for your taste. But you were settling in well, getting to know your duties and connecting with your staff and students.

You were just catching up on some emails as the door to your office flew open, rattling in its hinges and causing you to jump, your heart racing.

“Jesus, you scared me! Haven’t you heard of knocking?” You fixed your gaze on the woman who had so unceremoniously barged into your office and was now taking long strides towards your desk. She was a stunning woman - tall, with long legs; dressed to the nines; her hair nearly white and perfectly coiffed to accentuate her cheekbones; her eyes deep blue and sparkling with a deep fury.

“I don’t have to knock to enter my own office,” the woman hissed, her tone venomous. 

Your brows knit together in confusion and you squinted at her, your mind going a mile a minute. Now that you thought of it, she did look vaguely familiar… Who the fuck- oh. Oh. 

“You’re the former principal, aren’t you? I thought you were in a coma?” You figured the polite thing to do would be to ask how she’s doing, show some sign of concern, but she looked perfectly fine to you - and she didn’t seem in the mood to engage in small-talk, anyway - so you bit your tongue.

The woman’s eyes flashed dangerously, her upper lip twitching as she tilted her head. “Principal Weems. Headmistress of Nevermore Academy. Now if you’d be so kind as to get out of my chair…”

You stood slowly, placing your hands on your desk and leaning forward. While you didn’t quite match her height, you’d be damned if you let yourself be intimidated - you’d worked too hard for this position, wished for it too much, you wouldn’t let her take it from you, no matter who she thought she was.

“I’ve been appointed principal of Nevermore. This is now my office. If you have an issue with that, I’d like to kindly refer you directly to the school board.” You paused, raising an eyebrow and sorting some papers on your desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have meetings to prepare for.”

Principal Weems glowered down at you and you glared up at her, neither one of you seeming to want to back down. Her eyes flicked between your own, blazing with fury and passion in equal measure. Abruptly and without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of your office, slamming the door behind her.

Your eyes followed her every move as you stared after her, your heart thundering in your chest. The nerve of that woman. This was definitely not something you’d planned for - you hoped she wouldn’t cause too much trouble with the school board.

~~~

As expected, you received a call from the school board the next day - it seemed that the former principal had caused a bit of an uproar after she’d left your office. The head of the school board informed you that Ms. Weems, formerly Principal Weems, would be appointed to Nevermore as a history teacher. You figured the decision was made due to her connection with the school, but also to keep the peace. Even based on your short interaction from the previous day, you could guess the kind of hell she’d raised after leaving your office.

Given that her former quarters, which had been locked up for the time being, were attached to your new office, Ms. Weems would be appointed new quarters in the teacher’s hall as well until the end of the school year. What this meant, however, was that she would have to come by your office to pick some of her things up from her old quarters - which you were not looking forward to.

It was nearing 5 pm on a Friday - you still had a pile of administrative paperwork waiting to be completed, but you couldn’t concentrate for the life of you. You’d already cut your lunch break short to deal with the shenanigans of some students, and with the weekend so close your motivation to read through the documents the mayor had sent you was at an all time low. Slipping your phone from your pocket, you decided a break - just a short distraction, really - was in order, and started to scroll through your socials.

The door to your office creaked open - you figured it was a student who needed something and raised your head to reprimand them for forgetting to knock, only to be met with the sight of Ms. Weems. Larissa, as you’d read in her file. A beautiful name for an admittedly beautiful woman - too bad she seemed intent on loathing you. She stopped in the doorway, her lips curling into a disapproving frown.

“Hard at work, I see,” she sneered, closing the door behind her and giving you a once over, her eyes full of disdain as they lingered on the cell phone in your hands.

“I hardly see how this is any of your business,” you replied, your voice hard as you scowled back at her. Two could play at this game. “And if I may be so blunt, it’s rather rude not to knock before you enter someone else’s office. Particularly when that person is your superior.”

The blonde’s features hardened even further, her expression changing from disdainful to downright icy.

“Do not underestimate my connections in this town, Ms. Y/L/N. It would be a shame to see you lose your new position so suddenly.” Her voice was condescending, sickeningly sweet with a razor sharp edge to it - you tightened your grip on your phone, your knuckles turning white as you felt your heart begin to pound viciously.

“Is that a threat, Ms. Weems? And, while we’re on the subject of my position, I would prefer if you would address me as Principal Y/L/N from now on.”

“Not a threat. A promise.”

With that, she swept past your desk with an elegant yet powerful stride, swiftly unlocking the door to her former quarters and disappearing inside.

After what seemed like ages, Larissa emerged with two massive suitcases. You tried to ignore her and concentrate on your work, but it seemed she was deliberately being as noisy as possible, and that made it increasingly difficult to focus on anything else.

“You know what?” You stood from your desk, shutting your laptop and grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going to head out to get some dinner. You just figure this” you gestured vaguely towards her quarters as you crossed the office “out.”

“Chivalrous,” Larissa remarked sarcastically as your hand rested on the doorknob - you turned and raised an eyebrow. 

“You’ve been nothing but rude to me since the second we met. You want help? Call your friends or connections or something.” With that, you disappeared into the corridor, slamming the poor door behind you and missing the way Larissa’s face fell. 

~~~

By the time you got back to your office late that night to lock up (and you’d taken your sweet time, not in the mood for any more altercations), Larissa was gone. 

You barely slept that night - you were restless, tossing and turning constantly. You hated arguing with people - particularly your colleagues, which Larissa now was. Tomorrow was to be her first full day back at Nevermore, and it left you feeling unsettled and anxious.

Against all odds, the following morning was a quiet one. You’d half expected Larissa to barge into your office before lunchtime to scream at you about something, but no such outburst occurred. You’d gotten ahead of yourself, however - late that afternoon, the door to your office burst open, the tall blonde once again stalking towards your desk.

“Still having problems with the concept of knocking, I see,” you hissed, clenching your teeth.

Larissa glowered down at you, completely disregarding your statement - save for the subtle twitch of her upper lip.

“You really should adjust your tone when speaking with your staff, Principal Y/L/N.” She spat the word 'principal' at you as if it were laced with venom. “One might otherwise get the impression that you don’t respect them.” The right corner of Larissa’s lips curled up slightly into a condescending smile, and you felt a raging heat begin to boil in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s clear you don’t respect me, Ms. Weems,” you replied as coolly as you could. “But we both know that insulting me, no matter how much joy it may bring you, is not the reason you barged into my office. So. Why are you really here?”

“The planning of this year’s Rave’N.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair and clasping your hands together on your lap as you waited for Larissa to continue.

“As you may know, Nevermore Academy has been built on a centuries old history of tradition. I have spent my career upholding those traditions that make up the very heart of this school, to uplift our students, our faculty, and our community.”

You ran your tongue along your upper teeth - you already knew where she was going with this, and you had to fight the urge to groan and roll your eyes.

“So imagine my surprise, and dare I say disappointment, when I found out that our new dearly beloved principal was planning on canceling the Rave’N. An activity that our students greatly look forward to and that is essential to this school’s extra-curricular framework…” Larissa trailed off, her own eyebrow quirked in challenge as icy blue eyes flashed dangerously.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you let out a long sigh - God, this woman was irritating. “Ms. Weems, I have absolutely no intention of canceling the Rave’N. I am, however - as you may have heard - postponing it until the spring. I’m not certain where you got your information, but you may want to check your sources before you go around rashly pointing fingers at people.”

Larissa folded her arms defensively across her chest, her cheeks slowly turning red in hue. “The Rave’N has been held on the same weekend every year for nearly 200 years. What made you decide to break tradition?”

“It’s my humble opinion, Ms. Weems, that it isn’t working well at all. The Rave’N, the way it has traditionally been held, has consistently taken place a few short weeks before end of semester exams, squeezed unceremoniously between other events that are far more important for the Academy. The Poe Cup, for one - which is steeped in history, as you may rightfully agree, and which encourages healthy competition amongst our students. And, of course, Parent’s Weekend, which is essential for nurturing our wider outcast-community and involving our dear parents and alumni. The Rave’N, in contrast, is a frivolous school dance which, whilst certainly entertaining, wastes precious time that students could spend studying for their exams.”

Larissa looked like she was damn close to exploding on the spot. Her nostrils flared as she stared you down, her expression nothing short of disdain and utter disgust. When she spoke, red lips curled around brilliantly white teeth, which flashed dangerously in the light of the setting sun from the window behind you.

“I will not have you ruining this school, a place I have devoted my entire existence to, whilst you waltz in here and decide that it isn’t up to your arbitrary standards. Just because you don’t have the experience required to run a school and juggle multiple events at once, does not mean that they have been poorly planned. Rather, I believe this situation reflects your own shortcomings as an administrator.”

“Fine.” You grit your teeth - you’d have fired the woman on the spot if she hadn’t weaseled her way in through the school board. “You want to have your precious Rave’N this fall? You plan it then. I, however, want no part in it.”

Larissa let out a snort. “It’s nothing I can’t manage. And not to worry, I’ll leave you out of it.” With that, she turned and stalked back to the door, her hips swaying in an irritatingly tantalizing way - it made you furious.

“Oh, and Ms. Weems? If you barge into my office to insult me one more time, I will not hesitate to take this up with the school board.”

Larissa’s shoulders tensed and her hand paused on the door handle - then she yanked the door open and, once again, slammed it behind her. 

Ridiculous.

~~~

Although Larissa had since refrained from bursting into your office unannounced for a verbal sparring match, the bickering continued full-force. You’d hoped it would get better as time went on, but the opposite proved to be true.

Thoughts of Larissa had begun to plague you wherever you went. You couldn’t avoid her - she was everywhere. She argued with you during every staff meeting, made a point to pass you in the hall every chance she got, chose a seat directly within your line of vision during lunchtime - taunting you wherever you went. You’d started to hide in your office during breaks simply to find some reprieve.

You’d even lie awake in bed at night, unable to get the infuriating blonde out of your head. The worst part was, it wasn’t just your anger and anxiety over the arguments and the disrespect that kept you from sleeping - it was the fact that, despite it all, you couldn’t get over the strange pull that you felt towards this woman, even as you’d begun to hide from her like a coward.

She was driving you utterly mad, in every sense of the word. When she argued with you, baring her teeth, her face contorted with rage, you wanted to slap her. Then, and it took you a few sleepless nights to admit it to yourself, you wanted to kiss her - you wanted to consume her, to smudge her lipstick and litter her body in purple marks, to push her up against a wall and fuck the rage out of her. You wanted to see the arrogant, furious, domineering Larissa Weems turn into a needy little slut, utterly at your mercy and begging you to cum, to please, please, let me cum- 

You groaned in frustration, slipping a hand under the covers and into your underwear. Your cunt was absolutely drenched and you couldn’t take it anymore, rubbing hard and fast circles around your clit as you felt both shame and pleasure overwhelm you. Your imagination was your best friend as you pictured Larissa: her face flushed, her lipstick smeared down her chin, her milky thighs trembling and clenching around your hand as she rode your fingers - sinful moans being ripped from her throat because of you. 

Your orgasm washed over you as you reached your peak - it came and went, and you pulled your fingers from your underwear and wiped them on the sheets. Embarrassment and regret welled up inside of you as you laid there alone in the darkness of your quarters, unable to stop your thoughts from drifting towards a certain former principal and what she might be doing in her quarters.

Sleeping, probably, you thought bitterly.

~~~

Each week proved to be more trying than the last, and you found yourself, more nights than not, lying awake until ungodly hours thinking about Larissa - touching yourself because of Larissa. The harder she made your life, the more you seemed to be consumed by her - and then, the next hurdle was thrown your way.

Part of your duty as principal was, of course, conducting performance evaluations of your staff. Since you were new at Nevermore and unfamiliar with the staff members, you’d had to pop into parts of their classes to observe and get a feel for their teaching - and most of the teachers welcomed this with open arms.

Larissa Weems was not like most of the teachers, though. Given how often she’d shown up in your office unannounced, you’d had no qualms about randomly popping into her last class of the day, closing the door gently behind you and taking a seat in the back row.

Larissa stopped teaching immediately, her proud, tender smile slipping from her face when she saw your face among the sea of students. “Can I help you, Principal Y/L/N?” Her voice quavered slightly, and the students turned around curiously, their eyes darting between you and Larissa.

“Don’t mind me, Ms. Weems,” you said with a forced smile. “I’m just observing for today. Just pretend I’m not even here.” You gave her a wink which had her lip twitching and her nostrils flaring - the tension between the two of you did not go unnoticed by the students, who were eerily quiet as Larissa resumed her lesson.

Before you’d made your presence known, Larissa had been smiling so warmly at her students - it was obvious how much she cared for them, and the energy in her classroom had felt inviting and kind. The shift in energy when you’d sat down was alarming - Larissa had turned into an ice queen almost instantly. You could tell she felt uncomfortable and tense, and her teaching was robotic and distracted. Her students didn’t seem to be very engaged either - it seemed that her mood had rubbed off on them, and a feeling of unease blanketed the room.

When the lesson was over, Larissa immediately turned to her desk to pack her things, her students filing out of the room in silence.

“Ms. Weems, I’d like to see you in my office in twenty minutes, please. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” You didn’t wait for a reply before slipping out of the classroom and hurrying to your office.

~~~

Exactly twenty minutes later, a low knock sounded on your door - you were almost pleasantly surprised, but then Larissa barged in anyway, without waiting for you to respond, and you felt a twinge of annoyance bubble up inside of you.

“You wanted to see me.” Larissa grit her teeth as she stalked up to your desk.

“I did. Please, have a seat.”

Larissa ignored your offer and you let out a heavy sigh. “I must say, I was really disappointed this afternoon. The energy in your classroom was bordering on hostile and you made all of us feel very uncomfortable. I wouldn’t say that’s exactly conducive to learning and-”

“What were you even doing in my classroom?” Larissa hissed.

“I have been getting to know our faculty and their teaching methods better. It has worked quite well with your peers, however this afternoon was… eye-opening for me. What disappointed me the most, Ms. Weems, was that I caught a glimpse of you teaching as I entered the room, and it was… lovely. You care about your students, you really do, and I believe you to be a capable and nurturing teacher - your student’s grades prove as much.” You stood and rounded your desk, coming to stand in front of Larissa. “But the way your demeanor shifted when I joined your class… The way you refuse to work with me - it cannot continue like this.”

Larissa took a step forward, into your personal space. You could practically feel the white-hot anger radiating off of her in waves - it completely engulfed you. “You humiliated me in front of an entire class of my students and I-”

“Oh, shut up, Larissa!”

The blonde looked visibly shocked at the sudden use of her first name, the way it rolled off your tongue. Her pupils widened and her cheeks flushed - it was as if a switch had flipped inside of her as her eyes began to narrow and her lips curled into a sneer, electricity crackling between your bodies.

“Make me.”

That was it - the last straw. The heat you felt coursing through your veins was too much to bear, and without a single thought of consequences, you crashed your lips into Larissa’s, your hands immediately resting on her hips and tugging her closer.

The blonde let out a wanton moan as your tongue wasted no time in swiping at her lips, begging for entry - which she granted you without hesitation. Her tongue immediately met your own, licking into your mouth with a desperate sort of passion as she pushed her body flush against yours. Her left hand fisted at the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer and closer as her right hand threaded itself tightly through your hair, holding you in place.

The tension surrounding the both of you was growing thicker by the second, a hot coil winding itself tightly in your abdomen and lighting your entire body aflame. With a step forward, you had Larissa pinned between you and the edge of your desk. A little push was all she needed to topple back onto it, pulling you with her. 

Larissa’s hands shot out to catch herself before her back hit the wood, and your lips disconnected for a moment. Her hot breath was heavy against your face and you looked up to see Larissa’s gaze fixed intently on your own, her eyes heavy-lidded and her pupils dilated so that there was barely a sliver of blue visible.

Her lipstick was smudged, smeared across her chin, just like in your fantasies, and for a moment you froze, like a deer caught in headlights.

You, the prey, and Larissa, the predator.

A wicked smile formed on her lips as she realized your predicament.

“Thought you could just fuck the attitude out of me, did you?” she purred, baring her teeth. You swallowed thickly, your eyes glued to her kiss-swollen lips, your heart pounding so fast you thought it might burst.

Even leaning back with her ass resting on your desk, she still towered over you. Her height had never intimidated you before but for a moment it gave you pause - you felt so very small. That moment was enough for Larissa to realize she had the upper hand, enough for her to slide her palm over the outside of your thigh, enough for her nimble fingers to tug the fabric of your skirt upwards until it was resting snugly above your hips, your panties on display for her. 

“How naive of you,” she murmured as her fingers came to rest on your abdomen - you shivered at the touch - before slipping into the waistband of your underwear. You felt your cheeks burn as Larissa slid two fingers between your folds - you were so wet for her already, and the thought embarrassed you. 

Larissa hummed quietly as she began to tease your slit, taking her time exploring your sex and gathering your juices on the pads of her fingers. When she finally soothed her fingers over your clit, you let out a strangled gasp, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders and squeezing tightly as your eyes fluttered shut.

Your clit was so sensitive, like every casual brush of her fingers could send you over the edge - but they didn’t. Just when you thought you might cum, her fingers left the little bundle of nerves and slid down your slit, towards your entrance. 

She slipped the tip of her finger in, just to the first knuckle, before retracting and circling your entrance with a featherlight touch. Your nails dug into Larissa’s shoulders as you bucked your hips into her hand, whimpering desperately.

“So needy already and I’ve barely touched you,” Larissa tutted. “Tell me, have you pictured this before? Have you craved it?” Condescension dripped from her lips but you couldn’t find it in you to care - in fact, if anything, you felt the coil in your belly tighten and you ground your hips harder into her hand.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered. There was no point in lying to Larissa, not with how wet you were - and you would do just about anything to cum right now.

Without warning, Larissa plunged her finger into your hole, chuckling at the moan that clawed its way from deep within you. After a few pumps of her finger, she added a second digit and began to match the thrusts of your hips as she fucked you.

She curled her fingers upwards, going deeper this time and causing you to thrust forward so violently you nearly slid to the floor. Her reflexes were quick and she steadied you with her free arm, a smirk growing on her face.

Whatever power trip she was on, you didn’t care to stop her as her lips crashed into yours, her tongue all but forcing its entry into your mouth and asserting dominance. You felt entirely at her mercy as you felt yourself teeter on the edge of pleasure, your mind going fuzzy as Larissa’s fingers hit all the right spots inside you. What finally sent you over the edge was the way her thumb brushed over your clit at just the right moment, her fingers stroking your walls.

You clenched around her as you came, the coil in your belly snapping. Your moans were swallowed by the blonde, who seemed unable to keep her lips off your own, kissing and licking and gently nipping.

Your hands slid from Larissa’s shoulders to her waist, steadying yourself as you pulled back from the kiss. Larissa slipped her hand out of your underwear, her fingers glistening with your arousal - she brought them to her mouth and made a show of placing them on her tongue, licking and sucking and letting out a satisfied hum.

She watched you watch her, a smug grin growing on her face as your own cheeks flushed at the vulgar noises she was making. It was almost too much to bear, and you felt your frustration return with full force as Larissa pushed herself off the desk, holding her head high and smoothing the wrinkles in her dress. You would be damned if you let Larissa fuck you and then go on disrespecting you and making you feel awful about yourself. 

“You thought we were done here?” You squared your shoulders and glared at Larissa in challenge - she quirked an eyebrow, looking slightly taken aback. “After all that, you would deny me the opportunity to return the favor?”

Larissa’s breathing quickened and you smirked as you leaned in to kiss her jaw. Your lips trailed lower, down the side of her neck, and she tilted her head back to give you better access as your teeth found her pulse point. You could feel her pulse hammering away as your lips latched onto her neck, sucking until her skin had been marked deep red.

Your hands found her hips and you moved down her body until your face was level with her thighs. You could feel Larissa’s gaze upon you as you slid her dress upwards to reveal her underwear - her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the desk. There was a wet spot at the center of her underwear and you leant in, slowly dragging your tongue over the fabric and drawing a breathy groan from Larissa’s chest.

“And here you had me thinking I was the only one who was so wet right now,” you teased, your tongue finding Larissa’s clit through her underwear and giving it a gentle kitten lick, causing her to buck her pelvis into your mouth.

“So impatient…” You glanced up at Larissa’s face to see her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving as she glowered down at you. She made no move to stop you, however - quite the contrary, as she began to roll her hips against your tongue.

As much as you wanted to go on teasing her forever, you also felt a desperate urge to get a taste of the woman before you, so you hooked your fingers under the waistband of her underwear and pulled it down her long legs. You hooked her thighs over your shoulders, unable to stop yourself from moaning as you watched Larissa’s glistening folds spread for you.

You began to place wet, open-mouthed kisses to the insides of Larissa’s thighs, alternating between each leg and reveling in the way her thighs began to tremble beneath your lips. Smirking, you bit her thigh - right next to the entrance to her pussy. Larissa hissed and yanked your head back by the hair, her eyes flashing violently. Behind the aggression, there was a pool of unfettered desire already unspooling. Larissa was coming apart at the seams before your very eyes, and you could tell by her anger that it was unsettling to her.

The very thought emboldened you. “Well if it isn’t the former principal of Nevermore, turned into a needy little slut for me.” 

Your words had the desired effect - Larissa mewled and bucked her hips towards your mouth. You took the opportunity to dive right in, the scent of her arousal filling your nostrils and making you feel dizzy with want as your tongue dragged its way up her slit. She tasted absolutely divine and you let out a satisfied hum that vibrated against her pussy and drew a deep moan from her chest.

Larissa’s fingers wound themselves even tighter in your hair as your tongue began to draw lazy circles around her clit, smearing your saliva and her arousal around the sensitive bud. You began to alternate between licking and sucking, wrapping your lips around her clit and flicking your tongue over it - experimenting with different paces and amounts of pressure to find out which drew the most sinful moans from the blonde’s lips, which made her thighs begin to tremble around your head.

You found it easy to lose yourself in Larissa - in her taste, her scent, the noises she was making, the way her pussy felt against your tongue and the way her hand felt against your head. You lapped hungrily at her cunt, your own desire burning hot within you as you felt Larissa barrel closer and closer to the edge - if the shaking of her legs and the volume of her groans was anything to go by.

Glancing up to catch a glimpse of her face, you dipped your tongue into her entrance, feeling her walls clench. A fire seemed to burn in her eyes as she came undone. You could tell how badly she wanted you by the way her lips parted as she gazed down at you, the way her tongue grazed her lower lip, the way the exposed part of her chest was red with anticipation. Her head lolled slowly back and her eyes fluttered shut, and you continued to lick and suck through her orgasm.

Larissa let go of your hair and slumped back onto the desk, her breathing labored. You let out a satisfied hum as you licked the arousal off the insides of her thighs, then gently unhooked her legs from your shoulders and stood, leaning over the desk and smirking down at her.

She lay back against the desk, staring at the ceiling. When you came into her line of vision, she tilted her head towards you and met your gaze, a strange expression on her face.

“I need to leave,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and glassy.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could get a word out, Larissa had pushed herself up and pushed past you, pulling her dress down with one hand as she stooped down to grab her underwear with the other hand. She balled it into her fist, hiding it from view as she hurried to the door.

“Lari-” Slam.

Larissa was gone, leaving you to slump down in the armchair across from your desk, your chest heaving and your mind racing.

~~~

After a night of tossing and turning, you woke to an email from Larissa in your inbox.

Ms. Y/L/N,

Unfortunately, I am feeling a bit under the weather today, and am unable to teach my afternoon classes. Please do be so kind as to find a suitable replacement.

Regards,

L. Weems

Something wasn’t sitting right with you. Your stomach churned as you read the email over and over again, and it didn’t stop as you brushed your teeth, nor as you got dressed, nor as you settled at your desk with a cup of coffee.

You couldn’t get the previous day out of your head, and two things stuck out in your mind most of all: 

Firstly, the little glimpse of Larissa that you’d caught when you’d first entered her classroom. The warmth, the genuine smile directed at her students, the encouraging tone to her voice. It was a side of Larissa that you hadn’t been privy to at all, and it made your heart ache - making you wish, even if just for a moment, that she could someday afford you that same warmth, that that brilliant smile of hers could be directed at you.

And secondly, the way those few moments made you realize how much you missed teaching. You’d always felt that your greatest purpose in life was to guide young outcasts and help them achieve their own goals, just as your teachers had done for you. And right now, as principal, you weren’t doing much of that at all. Maybe Larissa was right - maybe you weren’t cut out for the administrative side of things. The constant push and pull, the political bullshit, making all these decisions for the good of the school and being left so very unsure of yourself, with so little time to dedicate to the students you loved so much.

Your mind was replaying your last interaction with Larissa - the look in her eyes, how she’d left in such a hurry. Something was definitely off, and you wouldn’t rest until you’d sorted it out.

Shutting your laptop and abandoning your coffee, you grabbed your keys and made your way to the teacher’s quarters.

~~~

“Ms. Weems?” you called out, rapping your knuckles against the door to her quarters.

Silence. 

“Ms. Weems?”

…

“Larissa?” you tried, knocking again.

This time, a soft shuffling could be heard, followed by the click of a lock, before the door opened just a crack, revealing one side of Larissa’s face, cast in shadow - it seemed she had the curtains drawn, and you suddenly felt guilty in case you’d woken her.

“Didn’t you receive my email, Ms. Y/L/N?” There was no hard edge to Larissa’s voice - she simply sounded exhausted.

“I, uh… I did, yes. I’m sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to check in and see if there’s anything I could do for you.” And talk, you added in your head. “Could I please come in?”

Larissa stared at you for a moment. Then a moment more. Then, she opened the door just a crack more and allowed you to step inside her quarters. 

The curtains were indeed drawn, though the second that Larissa closed the door behind you, she hurried to the window and opened them to let in some light. She looked pristine as ever - not a hair out of place, makeup done to perfection, clothing free of wrinkles. She didn’t look ill at all. The only indication that she may have been curled up in bed was the untidy way her sheets were made up, as if she’d pulled them up and fluffed them in a haste.

Larissa’s eyes followed your gaze to her bed and she quickly took a step to the side, blocking it partially from view.

“Have you come to inspect how I keep my quarters now, as well?” she asked, an iciness seeping back into her tone. “I didn’t realize that was any of your concern as principal, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You shook your head lightly, finding yourself suddenly at a loss for words. “I… no. No, it’s not. That’s actually not why I’m here. Could you… um, could you please call me Y/N?”

Larissa scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “Alright. Y/N. Why are you here then?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as your mind whirred with all the things you wanted to say, all the things you wanted to know.

“What happened yesterday?” you whispered finally.

“You were there, were you not?” Larissa said with an incredulous snort. “Or would you like a quick recap?”

“No, I mean… I mean when you left.”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You look fine to me,” you challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Larissa’s face hardened. “Your lack of empathy is absolutely astounding, Y/N.” 

“Well considering the fact that you never actually opened up to me, it’s no-”

“Opened up to you?” Larissa scoffed. “I didn’t realize we were friends. Why should I speak with you about personal matters that don’t concern you?”

You opened your mouth - then promptly closed it again. Larissa was right, of course. You weren’t friends, and what she was or wasn’t going through was, of course, none of your business. That somehow didn’t stop you from wanting to know, though. As infuriating as the woman had proven to be since you’d met, you couldn’t help but desperately wish for things to be different than they were.

“You’re right. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I came by to tell you that I’m giving up my position. I’m going to call the school board this afternoon to quit, and I’m telling them that they should hire you back instead.”

The words left your mouth in a rush, and you felt so much lighter the second they did. Larissa’s lips parted, her eyes wide as she tried to process the information. You waited but she didn’t say anything, and so you turned to leave.

Just before you reached the door, Larissa found her voice. It was low and shaky, barely audible - but her quarters were so quiet you’d have heard a pin drop.

“I heard everything.”

Your brows knit together in confusion and you turned to see Larissa perch herself at the edge of her bed, her gaze trained on the floor in front of her.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “What did you hear?”

“It took ages for them to find me. When I woke up, I knew I was in the hospital because of the noises around me. Only I wasn’t awake, not really.” Larissa’s voice sounded bitter and subdued, her fingers twitched from where she was playing with them in her lap. “I heard people speaking to me. Then about me. And about Nevermore. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t say or do anything. I could only listen.”

Your heart was thumping erratically in your chest and you took a tentative step towards Larissa. “Who was speaking? Your friends, when they visited you?”

Larissa let out a shaky sigh, her eyelids fluttering shut. “Tell me, Y/N, how much time have you had to maintain your friendships since starting your position?”

The question confused you, and you drank in Larissa’s tense body language, her pained expression. Then you realized what she meant - her friends, if she even had any, hadn’t seemed to visit her at all, and a wave of guilt washed over you, so intense that you took a seat next to Larissa on the bed.

She opened her eyes and peered over at you, seeming to take your silence as a form of acknowledgment. “Some students visited in the first days - Miss Addams and Miss Sinclair, mostly, Miss Barclay once or twice. Later it was school administrators - trying to figure out what to do with me, I suppose, whether or not to…” Larissa trailed off into silence, letting out a shuddering breath as her eyes darted about the room. 

Without thinking, you leant in and pressed your lips to Larissa’s cheek - you felt her tense up and pulled back as quickly as you could, your own cheeks turning scarlet. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you stuttered, scrambling to your feet.

A hand curled around your wrist, stilling you in your movements. “Don’t be,” Larissa whispered.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked anxiously. 

Larissa looked up at you with wide, watery eyes. “Could you stay? Just for a few minutes. Please.”

You nodded, sitting back down next to Larissa and resting your hand face up on her lap - an offering which she accepted, placing her hand in your own and interlacing your fingers.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice shaky. 

You gave Larissa’s hand a gentle squeeze, and the two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours, your hands intertwined. Strangely, you felt more at peace in that moment than you had since starting at Nevermore, and Larissa seemed to be getting more comfortable as well, even resting her cheek on your shoulder at one point.

The moment you left her quarters that afternoon, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to call the school board.

~~~

It was with a heavy heart that you hauled your suitcase onto your bed and unzipped it. Leaving Nevermore would be bittersweet for you - as much as you would miss the school you’d been dying to work at your entire life, you knew you were doing the right thing - for yourself, for Larissa, and for Nevermore.

You opened your wardrobe and began placing your clothes into your open suitcase when you heard a knock on the door to your quarters.

“It’s open,” you called out, and the door creaked as it swung open to reveal Larissa. “Hi,” you said with a shy smile, which Larissa returned hesitantly.

“I’ve just received a call from the school board and gotten everything sorted out. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

You smiled softly at the principal. “I think I have some idea.”

Larissa’s cheeks turned pink and she looked away, her eyes darting around your room before landing on the mess on your bed. “Do you want to leave?” she asked, her voice soft and curious.

You chuckled nervously and gave her a light shrug. “I don’t know if I would say I want to leave, but I don’t see what choice I have without a job here. Unless you’re renting out rooms…?”

Larissa chuckled. “Actually, a position has opened up for a new history teacher,” she said. “I’ve taken the liberty of looking into your employment history and I think you’d be a great asset to our staff.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? You would hire me?”

“Yes,” Larissa said firmly. “I would. If you’d like to stay, that is…”

“Yes!” you all but shouted. “Sorry… yes. I would love to, that would be amazing. Thank you, Larissa.”

Larissa nodded, smiling softly. Your eyes fell to the large suitcase that was standing just behind Larissa, and you cocked your head to the side in question.

“The school board has agreed to allow me to take over my old quarters,” Larissa supplied as her gaze followed your own.

“Ah. I see.”

You fidgeted in place and Larissa watched you curiously for a moment. When she realized you weren’t going to say anything else, she gave you a curt nod and placed a hand on the handle of her suitcase. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said softly. “Perhaps we can set up a meeting this week to get you acquainted with your new position.”

You nodded, your stomach doing a little somersault as your heartbeat began to pick up just a tad. Larissa took a step back into the hallway and started to pull the door closed behind her.

“Larissa, wait.”

The blonde froze in her movements, her brow furrowing as her gaze shot up to meet your own. You swallowed thickly.

“Do you want help? Moving all your stuff back?”

You held your breath as Larissa stared. Then, her face lit up with a bright, beautiful smile, red lips curling up at the edges and sparkling blue eyes crinkling at the outer corners.

“I would love that.”

x

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #principal weems

[littleturtlefish]

Just a heads up for US (and Canadian, I think?) university and high school students and professors:

There's an organization called Canary Mission that doxxes students/professors who show their support for Palestine and/or any criticism towards Israel. On their website, (I don't feel comfortable linking it, as it may increase its popularity on Google + looking up your name is probably not a good idea if you're doing it on their own website) they straight up write paragraphs about these people: what they did to end up on the site (includes evidence such as videos and photos), their location, their graduation plans, their social media links (Spotify, Instagram, LinkedIn, etc.), and more. They also have a Twitter, which doesn't post as much info but still very much tweets out full names and similar stuff. Their entire goal is to silence people.

Report and block their Twitter. There's a link in my sources where you can report the site to the FBI.

Sorry if this is a bit lackluster in info and such. It's 5 AM right now and I don't have a lot of time to pile up a lot of sources but I feel like this is very important to spread.

Sources:

(This is where I first found out about this. Thread has the FBI link to report the site for doxxing but honestly...I have no idea how to report it. Someone asked what category to choose in the FBI link but didn't get a reply so if you know, lemme know and I'll edit this post)

(Tips on how to avoid being targeted such as creating a backup email for accounts that express Palestinian support or covering up any identifiable features [piercings, tattoos, dye, etc.] in protests) (also has a link at end of thread where you can donate to palestinians with just a single click every day)

Even though I strongly recommend to NOT DO THIS, I did check out the site + twitter to actually understand what's going on and god, it's so fucking pathetic. Obviously not linking anything but everything described is true

#palestine #israel #gaza #free palestine #free gaza #canary mission #doxxing #thirty-fifth post

[ameftowriter]

Pokemon SV fic: What have you done, my dear friend?

FINALLY!! Oh man it took me a few days to write and edit this but here it is! I wrote this when I was inspired by @k-chips ‘s Dadvell AU. Check her art as well for that AU, its quite beautiful :3

Either way, I even wrote this while there was downtime on my night shift.

So I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you for reading!

Ao3 Link in the replies

WARNING: MAJOR POKEMON SV ENDING SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

"Sada?!" Clavell drove around the middle layer of Area Zero as he yelled despite knowing it was of no use as he searched for his friend, "Sada! Where are you?!"

Clavell grumbled as he let Cyclizar drive deeper down to the crater.

"I swear to Arceus if I find you, Sada…" 

He sighed for the nth time. He knew that he's going to be in a ton of trouble just being in Area Zero. But he had to come here.

He needed answers.

And he needed them now.

It's been a few months since Arven and his Mabosstiff came into the crater by themselves and ran into something that gravely injured the Pokemon. Since then, Arven had grown cold and distant to everyone else. Clavell has since then taken responsibility for them, but that still really didn't solve anything. He tried, he really tried like hell to contact her. The real biological mother of Arven, Professor Sada. He wanted to know what it was that attacked Arven and Mabosstiff. How strong it must be to gravely injure a Pokemon like that.

He wanted to know why she never bothered to reach out to them.

He knew that she was buried in her research. She always was, ever since they met. He knew she was too busy to even take care of a child. He knew that…

That…

He knew her well. He was the only person that would be considered her friend. They worked together on the Tera Orb technology. It's how he and even later his new colleague, Jacq met the young boy. 

And now he's the only one who has been there for him.

Clavell has tried to contact her since the incident. Calls, emails, texts, instant messaging… anything he could use at his disposal to contact Sada at this Arceus-forsaken hole in the middle of the region. But it was all to no avail. It was just nothing. Radio silence.

So now, he's resolved to jump into Area Zero in secret, in search of this boy's mother. 

He stopped at the 3rd Research Station for a break and to rest his Cyclizar. He sat himself on the bed and opened up his sandwich for his lunch. He realized then that this place hadn't been used in a while. There were vines all around the outer walls.  There was quite a layer of dust in the desk and bed and he had to clean up a bit in order for him to actually relax. He knew that ever since the end of the Tera Orb project, that most of the assistants, including himself, had gone on to do other research. Only Sada and a couple of assistants had stayed behind. 

But he recently met up with them just before he became the Director of Naranja Academy. They were mostly quiet about the project as they were asked by Sada herself to keep this secret. But they did tell him that something has gone wrong with Professor Sada once the Tera Orb project ended. Ever since her husband, Turo left her unexpectedly one day, they had barely even seen her or let alone even talked to her. The last time one of them spoke to her, they were met with nothing but rage. Over something as simple as her needing rest. The assistants then both agreed to leave after that. Not only was Sada getting more volatile, but they felt there was something… something deeper down the depths of Area Zero, that was far, far more dangerous than they first thought.

As Clavell finished his sandwich, and fed his Pokemon, he stretched himself, mounted his Cyclizar once more, and headed off deeper into the crater. 

He entered a large cave that gave him a path to bring him lower and lower down the crater. On the way he saw a lot of unusual Pokemon wandering around. Most of them he has rarely seen in the wild and even saw wild Glimmora which was never recorded to have ever been spotted in the wild. In fact, he only knew what it was, when he first met the newest Top Champion, Geeta. He saw that there were more Tera Crystals around and some had even grown larger than he last saw them, and saw had crept closer to the entrance. He managed to evade many Pokemon around him and found his way into the 4th Research Station.

He's been here before of course, he spent a lot of time in this research station before. It was closer to the Tera Crystals for him to study and collect samples from. Plus he used to be Champion rank himself, so he was allowed here due to his battling prowess.

He dismounted Cyclizar and returned him back to its ball. 

He found it quite odd though, normally there would be other Pokemon casually roaming around this area, but now, he hasn't seen any near this station at all.

He knocked at the Station doors despite knowing that no one would be there to answer anyway, and opened it himself.

What he saw in the station was something he could never forget …

Cables were strewn all over the floor, the giant metal canisters had fallen over, various machines broken as if they were physically torn apart by hand. Human? No, impossible. It must be a Pokemon's doing. But he remembered how sturdy everything in these stations were. Not even Dodonzos or Gagrnacls could wreck the place. He could then see that tera crystals have slowly crept in from the crevices of the walls. The power was shut down from this station, as he expected to see sparks coming from the disaster he walked in, but there were none. He couldn't even get the light switches to turn on. 

Using his Rotom phone's flashlight app, he looked around the mess. The only thing he could see upright was the little command centre. He jokingly commented once before how these little things could survive a nuclear disaster. He didn't think he was actually correct.

Judging from the wreckage, he knew something went loose in here. But what kind of Pokemon could do such massive damage here?

Just then he felt something on his shoe, he peered down along with his phone, and saw that there was some sort of liquid dried up on the floor, staining it. It came from underneath one of the canisters… It was dark, dark… red? Brown?? Black?? 

Wait…

It…

It's….

No….

It looked like b—

"Who's in here?!"

A familiar voice quickly grabbed Clavell's attention away from the stains. His head snapped up and looked towards the source of the voice. And there he saw… he finally saw the woman he was looking for.

"Sada!"

"Clavell?!" Sada was shocked to see her friend down here. "What is Arceus's name are you doing down here?!"

Clavell blinked as he tried to just absorb the question thrown at him and then again. 

'So Sada's here…' He thought… for a second he thought the stain was… that it belonged to… 'So this stain couldn't be…?'

"Clavell? Hey! Are you all right?" Sada asked him with great concern, "I overheard a Cyclizar coming down here so I went to check. I didn't expect to see you down here."

'Wait… how did she know it was a Cyclizar?' Clavell was confused, Cyclizars are typically not loud when they are driven. But then quickly changed the topic, as he had more priorities. "Sada. I came down here to look for you."

"For me?" Sada wondered, "How come?"

"Sada…" Clavell shook his head and sighed. He stepped outside the station to approach his friend, "Arven was here. A few months ago."

"He was?!" The professor was shocked to hear that from him. "Wait! What was he doing in here?"

"He was looking for you Sada!" Clavell quickly shot his answer at her as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Your son came down here all on his own to search for his mother who has barely sent an email to him for the past year!"

"I was… I've been…"

"Busy. We know." Clavell finished it for her. Every word dripped with sarcasm. "And do you know what happened to him, Sada? He got hurt. And what's worse, the only thing he had that was a semblance of a family is Mabosstiff. Or do you only remember him as a Maschiff? Either way, Mabosstiff got gravely injured while protecting him."

"Oh no…" Sada muttered as she felt incredibly guilty as she heard the news, "Is he?"

"No… Thank Arceus he isn't." Clavell shook his head, and pushed his glasses back up, "But Jacq and I, I hope you still remember him, have tried everything at our disposal to heal him. We've asked every professor in the world for help and while we have made some progress, none can't even guarantee if he'll ever be back to his old self again!"

Clavell, safe to say, was furious. The second reason why he came down here was to just tell Sada off. It felt wrong to him for doing something so ungentleman-like. But seeing Arven and Mabosstiff in such a terrible state… he couldn't take it anymore. He felt so helpless just being unable to help them. 

He was without a doubt, taking out his frustrations at her.

Sada remained silent. She turned away, not making eye contact with Clavell. 

"Sada…" Clavell took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Arven. Your son. He misses you. More than you could ever imagine. He went here to look for you. He wanted to know. Just like I wanted to know…"

"Why won't you come back?"

Sada finally turned to face her friend. Clavell was not angry at the moment. He was… 

To her, her friend was pleading with her.

"Clavell… I…" Sada muttered just enough for him to hear, "I can't…"

"I can't, what?!" Clavell demanded an answer, "Why? Is there a reason that we don't know, why you can't leave this Arceus-forsaken hole?" 

"I just can't leave Clavell…"

"Then tell me why?!" He repeated himself, but there was no response from his friend. "We just want to know!"

"I'm sorry…" was the only thing Sada could muster.

"Don't tell me that." Clavell shook his head, "Tell that to Arven. To Mabosstiff."

Clavell clenched his fists as he tried to restrain himself.

"His father left both of you when he could barely remember him. And now you left him for… for this!" He waved his hand and pointed at the wrecked station, "And now you're just going to let him lose the only family he has left?!" 

Silence once more.

"Answer me Sada! Anything!" Clavell pleaded, "Anything to just… explain this?! Is it really worth leaving your loved ones behind?! Your friends! Sada, please…"

Professor Sada instead turned away, back facing her friend. She couldn't answer him. She couldn't even begin to try to answer him.

So Clavell took that silence as his answer.

"Very well…" Clavell pushed his glasses back, "Very well, Sada. I shall take my leave then."

He brought out his Cyclizar and gave him a good pat. As he mounted his ride, he then said to her .

"Despite all of that, Arven is surprisingly doing well." 

Sada bit her lip but didn't show it to him.

"He's a strong young man. More than I could ever imagine." He continued, "I'm proud of him despite all of it."

Sada didn't reply.

"I'm going to take them in." Clavell declared to her as he refused to look at his friend anymore. "I'll take full custody of them. I'll take care of them. And they'll finally have a home. With me."

If Sada could cry right now, she would. Instead she replied.

"Thank you… and good luck…"

“You have no right to say that, my dear friend…”

Clavell didn't say anymore and drove away. Away from this hole. And away from her.

Sada turned her head just to see, to see if her friend had left the caves. Just so she wouldn't be seen. 

Just so he wouldn't see the truth…

She entered the wrecked station, walked towards the large stain, then looked at what was peeking out underneath the canister.

"I'm sorry…" Sada? said as her eyes glowed red. "I'm so sorry my dear friend…" 

She rolled out the canister to reveal the horrible truth underneath. 

"I cannot tell you. I cannot tell you this…" AI Sada lamented, "You and Arven… deserve better… better than this…"

"You two… would be happier if you didn't know about truth…"

Clavell felt bad deep down. He had just exploded in front of his dear friend because he was frustrated at himself. But he wanted to tell her all of that. He didn't know what else to say to her in the first place. 

And yet something…. Something is telling him that the entire interaction with Sada felt very off.

It is as if he wasn’t talking to the real Sada in the first place.

But he was so sure that he was talking to her. It was no illusion, there were no Pokemon around them. It was just Sada and the broken down research station.

Come to think of it, he never looked much deeper into the stain he found. He assumed it was just a chemical spill.

It's just….

It's just that Sada he talked to….

Was it really her?

Was it really his dear friend?

Was it?

Deep down… he knew something was up. He knew something was wrong with this….Sada…

If that is the case then is Sada….?

Clavell went home and never spoke word to anyone, not to Jacq, not to Arven. About what he did that day.

________________

The crystal pillars lowered down back to the ground as the AI Sada tried to put herself back together. She thanked Juliana, for her hard work and perseverance despite the challenges to be able to shut down the Time Machine once and for all. 

AI Sada felt relief. That's what her emotional calculations concluded. It was a great relief that her struggles would be no more.

"Julie!"

"Jules!"

"Little buddy!

"Miss Juliana!"

Four voices rang out as the two saw the remainder of the group rush to their friend's side.

"Wha–" Penny was the first to notice the robot standing right infront of them. "What is this?!"

"Did you already beat all the baddies without me?!" Nemona added with a hint of disappointment, as she wanted to join in the battling.

"Is this…" Clavell then spoke as he tried to piece the situation together, "What I think it is? Sada? You really made it didn’t you?”

But Arven wanted an answer to a more pressing question.  "Ok, out with it, you…" 

Juliana and Clavell looked at Arven with great concern.

"Who are you, really?!"

That feeling… that feeling deep down within Clavell began to resurface again. As he looked at his…. Friend?? Her body is all stiff, unblinking, and with twitching movements…. As if she wasn’t even a human… as if she was a… 

"Th-thank you… for… everything…." Her voice was soft but filled with buzzes and static. It is now obvious to anyone who she really was. "The time machinӘ… has final|y… ShӘ has…. fina|ly… bæn stoppӘd…"

"S-Sada?" Clavell managed to utter out.

"You're really not… my mom, are you?" It was hard for Arven to say it, but he braced himself for the truth…

"I'm sorry …" AI Sada looked at Clavell first. "I am so sorry, my dear friӘnd… tha7 I… |… I had to liӘ to you… back thӘn… didn't wan7 to… upsӘ7 you morӘ…"

"Wait what?!" Arven turned to Clavell only to see that the man whom he called a parent, turned pale, eyes wide, and fingers shaking, "You… you know about this…?"

"Sada…" Clavell could only say… as the horrific realization came to him. "You… can't be…"

Then AI Sada turned to face Arven this time… She wanted to shed tears… for him… She knows she can't, but the feeling is all too real. Whether it was made by her codes telling her so or not.

"Oh…   Look… how big you'vӘ grown…" AI Sada managed to say with the sweetest voice, despite that it was all robotic. She meant it… she felt it… emotional calculations or not. She truly felt this emotion of love and pride. "5o… p-proud of you… my…"

Her voice disappeared for a second. She tried to say it. She tried to say the word she wanted to say so badly. But the emotions… it's telling her, stopping her. Telling her that she shouldn't say that… Because she cared, she cared so much for him.

So she instead said, ".... sorry… you wӘre alone s-so… |ong ArvӘ—-"

"M-Mom?!" Arven could only say instinctively… 

Then the surrounding crystals within the room turned a deep scarlet colour.

Security System failure!

Security System failure!

Threat to time machine detected!

Threat to time machine detected!

The robotic voice filled the room and filled the room with a buzzing alarm.

"Wh-wh-whoa! What's going on now?" Penny spoke up, scared of what would happen next.

"Is another army of Pokemon on its way here?!" Nemona was ready to battle once more, but for once, she too was worried of what was to come.

The group turned to face each other, back and forth, looking around to see where the robotic voice came from. Trying to understand was happening right now. 

It was not good.

"|t…. cannot bӘ–!" AI Sada looked up, as the program began to take over her systems.

An obstacle is preventing the time machine from performing as intended.

Activating Paradise Protection Protocol to remove the offending obstacle..

The elevator doors where the group came from then shut itself. Everyone took a step back but then realized they were already trapped.

"Wha–?! Was kӘӘping the time maɔhine running truly all thӘ profӘssor cared about?!" AI Sada was horrified. She was made as the exact duplicate of her creator, her emotions, reactions, movements, were all based off calculations based off the real Professor's personality. And yet… this…. This was something she did not expect at all… Or rather…

This is something she thought her creator would never try to do.

Locking all Poke Balls except those registered to Sada's ID.

"Wait what?!" Nemona looked at her Pokeball and tried to call her partner out of it. But she couldn't. Her Pokemon couldn't come out of the ball, no matter what she tried.

Penny pulled out her phone, as she tried to unjam the systems blocking their poke balls.

Juliana then turned to look at the AI, hoping she could give them an answer. 

Instead...

Program initializing…

Gathering Terastal energy…

The AI had tera crystals, creeping out from underneath her feet. 

"|'m sorry childrӘn, I'm sorry my dær friӘnd… " the crystals grew from her feet, legs, her coat, to her hands, her body… as if she herself was being Terastallized.

"This is al| too much for you…."

AI Sada slowly stretched out her arm… she wanted to reach out  to her son. All she felt then was her own will, slowly being overtaken by the will of her own deceased creator.

She looked at Arven, at Clavell, at Juliana, at Nemona, at Penny… She was scared, terrified even. Because she now know what this is capable of.

She knows what this Protocol will do to her and to her friends.

She knows that she would lose all control of herself.

She knows that she would no longer function as Sada.

She knows that she would become nothing more than a cold and cruel machine…

Dead set on removing everything and everyone that is in the way … no matter what the cost…

"You… must… run…!"

Arven took a step forward, he wanted to reach out to her, to save her. Despite the dangers, he wanted to… save her…

AI Sada disabled.

Paradise Protection Protocol initialized.

The black platforms rose once more, lifting the Paradise Machine up to prepare it for the final sweep. To remove everything. To eliminate everything that is not part of the Paradise. 

For Paradise must be maintained no matter what!

"Oh Sada…." Clavell trembled as he feared for the worst, "My dear friend…. What have you done?!"

"You are no7 getting in my way!"

You are challenged by AI Sada!

You are challen?ed by the Paradise Protec?ion Protocol!

AI Sada has no intention of fighting anymore!

You are challenged by the Paradise Protection Protocol!

#pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #director clavell #clavell #professor sada #pokemon clavell #pokemon arven #arven #nemona #juliana #penny #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet spoilers #pokemon spoilers #pokemon scarlet spoilers #pokemon sv spoilers #pokemon scarvio spoilers #pokemon scarvio #my god that leet speech text is incredibly difficult to put in tumblr #dadvell au

[podcasts-8-my-heart]

Hint of Sugar

Ao3 Link

Chapter: 1/1

Rating: General

Archive Warning: No Archive Warning Applies

Fandoms: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media TypesStar Wars - All Media Types

Relationship: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, absentminded kiss

Fic and Card under the readmore

@codywanfirstkissbingo

It’s one of the rare times that the Negotiator (The law students) and the Resolute (Anakin’s band of STEM majors) are able to meet in the same area, and have time for a shared meal with their hectic schedules. The y’re in the mess hall of the Law College because Obi-Wan swears it has better tea (and really, it does). Obi-Wan chose one of the tables in the middle with enough space for Waxer, Boil, Rex, Fives, Anakin, Ahsoka, and Cody to sit at. It was nice to be able to catch up with his fellow siblings and cousins, face to face, rather than through the group chat and TikToks.

Ahsoka was a freshman physics major that Obi-Wan’s adopted younger brother, Anakin, had become a mentor for her in making sure she wasn’t getting stressed out with her new workload. Cody later learned that Ahsoka had a girlfriend, Barriss on the volleyball team that they both played for. It was sweet, and reminded him of Bly and Aayla.

“So the homework from professor Ti is driving me up a wall,” Ahsoka said, through a bite of salad to Anakin.

“Did you ask Cal for help?” Anakin responded, looking up from his Mech-E textbook.

“He was busy helping another student with the homework and, well, Barriss and I had scheduled lunch…”

“Have you emailed Cal about it then?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No…”

“Ahsoka, I can’t be the only one that helps you with your physics homework, that’s what the TA’s are there for, right Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan hummed, “He’s right, you know.”

Ahsoka sighed, “Fine.”

Cody watched out of the corner of his eye as Ahsoka pulls her strawberry pink laptop out to write an email. He took a sip of his evening coffee, sighed, before getting his own laptop out. Cody was working on a paper for his Ethics of Arts, which focused on the potential implications of A.I. when he heard Obi-Wan speak.

“Well, I need to get to a meeting with a pre-Law student, so I’ll see you in a bit.”

Cody looked up to see Ahsoka get kissed on the forehead, Anakin’s curls, and then himself?

He froze.

“Ah.” Obi-Wan, face flushed and ears pink, before looking at his watch, “I better get going.”

Cody blinked. ‘What just happened?’

“Did he just?” Boil said.

“So it would seem…” Waxer replied.

They watched as Obi-Wan ran from the hall.

“Should I…?” Cody started.

“Run after him?” Anakin replied, “Then yes, yes you should.”

“I’ll be right back, guys.”

Cody slammed his laptop shut and bolted after Obi-Wan, the ginger’s forest green sweater still visible in the distance. He knows his best friend is worth it, and if he gets a new boyfriend out of it, then it's worth it, right?

#ezra writes #codywan #cwfkb2023

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 9

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, possessive behavior, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, cheating, explicit language, toxic dom/sub relationship, more arguments

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

A/N 2: Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back! I'm feeling way better and I'm merging towards my social life as well. I did a litte editing and changing on part 8 where they argued. But it doesn't affect the plot. Feel free to check it out :3 Two more chapters and WT will be completed (I hope I'll get it done by December based on my current speed lmao)

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

From [email protected]

Dear all,

I hope this reaches you well. This email is to remind those of you who have yet to submit your form for assigning a supervisor…

You have been looking at this email for quite some time. Opening the link at the bottom of this email too. But you haven’t made a move yet.

You have thought about having Andy as your supervisor, but that idea sounded like a lifetime ago. And now, there’s no way you’d let Andy be your supervisor.

How are you going to face him? This is more than just some misunderstanding from last semester. This is you two breaking up. Broken up. Whatever.

You are not making him your supervisor.

Taking a deep breath, you text a reply to the message your barely-friend Fiona sent you half an hour ago.

Fiona: Are you going to choose Barber as your supervisor?

You: No. Klein.

A few more messages come from Fiona after you send it. But you ignore them, knowing that she’d be asking dumb questions.

No, probing questions like “what are you going to write for your dissertation” or “should I include my pilot study into my dissertation” or other things that she wants to make an impression in front of her supervisor without “borrowing” from your answers first.

Bitch.

You feel like screaming. Which you did, after punching your mattress and burying your head into the pillow. Only lifting your head when you are completely out of breath.

With everything that happened with Andy, Laurie, Fiona and your schoolwork, it feels like nothing could alleviate you from the endless mess of self-doubt and self-hatred. Hating others as well. Hating your friend choices. Hating your boyfriend choices. Hating your school which led you to him. Hating everyone and every being on this very planet.

Hating yourself.

“Fucking hell.” You mumble to yourself. Pulling your laptop close to fill in the form for dissertation supervisors.

Typing word for word of your dissertation title, and selecting “Joanna Klein” as your preferred supervisor.

I hate my life. The idea keeps floating in your head like the obnoxious bubbles in a soda can, spritzing tiny drops of irritating reality into your face.

Andy has just received the email from Joanna Klein to all available lecturers and professors about supervising students in their dissertations.

He found the familiar name – your name – in a heartbeat. Merely sticking out his lips and making what Laurie would call “a bitch face”, as he found your name under the list of students under the supervision of Joanna Klein.

The pure imagination of pulling the strings behind your dissertation, of having a say in what you could not refuse, seeing you writhing under his grasp, gets his blood pumping in his veins.

He’s probably sick to the bones. One brief moment of clarity tells him so. To get high just to watch you struggling in his control. The adrenaline rush of knowing you are helpless, having no one to turn to but him.

He probably needs help.

But who needs help, when you, the most direct and sufficing way of satisfying his hunger, practically serve your weakness on a silver platter?

Andy pulls his chair closer to the desk, makes up his mind, and starts typing on the keyboard.

He is doing what’s best for you.

You might not see it that way for now but…

You’ll understand, eventually.

Andy sits in his office. Waiting. Patiently. Tapping his fingers on the table surface, as he looks out of the window.

It has only been a while, since you last came to his office to deliver his suit and your breakup.

However, things turned rather quickly, as there was no room for argument as the final version of the list containing supervisor and their students to tutor through the dissertation was settled as the last nail in the coffin.

Five students, students that he is going to supervise, are about to enter that door. And one of them being you.

He grins, thinking of the fact that you are tied to him for the rest of the term time.

No use running. He rolls your name on his tongue silently. He’s far beyond any help could ever achieve in pulling him back. He wants you, one way or another.

He’d keep you, treat you like the precious thing he adores, if you behave.

If you do not… well, there are more than a few ways that he can think of to devour you.

He’d keep you, one way or another.

Five students, including you, walked through that door, sitting on the chairs that he prepared. You picked the seat furthest from him, in a small corner. Didn’t make eye contact. No friendly “hello”. No nothing.

He doesn’t mind.

He knows that you are still mad about your little dispute.

He will tolerate it, knowing that you still love him.

He will explain, tell you that he will fight tooth and nail for you. Tell you that you could start over. He was being unreasonable. He was frustrated and angry, and he lashed out on you, that he was sorry about it all.

Later. He will explain later.

Andy clears his throat, folding his hands on his stomach, “Today we’ll start by having a brief introduction of yourselves. You obviously know me, since I’ve taught you all, but I would still like it if you could introduce yourself to each other. You can tell us about your name, something about yourself, and also tell us about what you are planning to write for your dissertation…”

He pays no special attention to you. He comments, nods, and gives useful suggestions based on everyone’s self-introduction.

“I understand I’m asking for a lot of work in a short amount of time. However, I would expect you to produce a general frame of your dissertation by the next meeting, which is two weeks from now. In the framework, you’ll be talking about how you want to approach your topic-” He stops Fiona from scribbling on her notebook, but ignores you who are doing the same. What can he say, he favors you in the smallest of details, “I’ll send you all an email after this meeting for the framework you’ll be writing about. The topic, the details you are going to investigate, the methodology – I’m sure Professor Rifkin has explained this in her class, and also, keep an open mind when you are writing the dissertation, especially for those who are employing a qualitative method to analyze their data. Any questions?”

You are the first to rush out of his office after he declares that today’s session has come to an end.

He waits until the last student has left the floor before heading out.

The entire floor is quiet. Dead. Deserted.

His shoes barely make a sound on the soft carpet as he steps out of his office, finding you on the floor, sitting on the carpet. You have opened your laptop, but it seems blank.

You gain your consciousness when he approaches, looking up at him. A sigh leaving your lips before you speak, “You did this.”

Not a question, but a firm sentence.

You know he was behind this transfer of dissertation supervisors.

Andy neither confirms nor denies. He cocks his head slightly, looking at your tired expression, “You will need to work on your methodology. Your arguments wouldn’t be convincing if you only state the method for your dissertation.”

“Can’t we be those ex-es like friends? Stop torturing each other over the fact that we broke up? Can you just leave me alone?” You take a deep breath, saying the words that you know he will be disapproving of.

He takes a seat on the couch in the open space, about three feet from where you are sitting, but he doesn’t have to put extra pressure on his neck looking at you from above.

Andy interlaces his fingers into a fist, his thumbs tapping each other.

To tell the truth, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let go of you. Couldn’t watch you go away.

“Look-” Seeing him unresponsive to your plead, you change your tactics, switching into defiance, “If you want to be a bitch about our relationship, I will have to put in a request to the faculty about changing my supervisor.”

Andy lets out a cold, hard laugh. Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Andy “kindly” tells you about the regulation that runs around the place: “Nice try getting rid of me, sweetheart. But even if you do, and that’s a big ‘if’, you would still have to write your dissertation, and during scoring, your dissertation would be assigned to lecturers based on your topic. And I know all your topics, sweetheart.”

Your lips visibly tremble in fear, so are your arms, “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” His tone turns sharp, “I can put an A into your months of work, or an F. Your choice.”

“Yeah? And what should I do for an A?” You shut your laptop with a loud snap, jumping from the spot on the floor to your feet. Clenching your teeth and hissing like venom burns your mouth, you challenge him even further, “Suck your dick, Professor Barber?”

“Be nice, sweetheart. I’m trying to be a friend.” Andy narrows his eyes, the threat in his tone is evident, “First of, I suggest you to be respectful when talking to me.”

You glare at him with fire burning in your eyes.

“I'm not a monster, sweetheart. But if you poke me like that, I don't mind putting a little discipline inside that pretty little brain of yours. Try to stay on my good side, yeah?” Andy stands to his full height, buttoning his suit jacket as he stands up, casually tugging the hem of his shirt and his tie. After tiding himself up, Andy lifts his hand to caress your jaw.

You jerk your head on instinct but his fingers dig into your neck, reminding you, painfully, of the night that he went overboard and fucked your throat.

His grip softens when he feels you freeze on spot. Tracing his thumb on your jawline, he murmurs, “Remember, sweetheart? I'm your Dom. I tell you something, and you do it.”

“You're not my fucking Dom.” You grit out.

“Still bratty, I see. You're a handful but I doubt there's anything that can't be solved by some punishments.”

His thumb forces you to lift your chin, even so, you refuse to look at him.

It takes you a few seconds to regain your voice, “You can't expect me to whore out myself.”

If that’s what he’s asking.

Andy presses a small kiss to your temple, whispering by your ear, “I don't really mind, sweetheart, as long as it is you.”

Some sense finally comes to you, your body shakes like a leaf in both fear and fury, you try to sound tough, but it comes out no better than a whimper, “I could report you to the board of malpractice.”

“And I have a lawyer friend, honey. He's the best in town. God knows how long a lawsuit can take. 18 months? 24?”

“Honey” was usually meant for Laurie, but he is beyond caring which endearment belongs to whom at this point.

“You're ... evil.” You want to move, but you cannot, not when he’s still having an iron grip over your neck.

“Maybe.” Andy shrugs, letting go of your neck, “Now run along before I do something evil, like fucking you over my desk.”

You pack your things as fast as you can, leaving the place without another word.

The rest of the term time passed in a blur. He attends your graduation ceremony with a heart-felt smile, knowing well that he black-mailed you into accepting his supervision and that you have an impeccable dissertation as he almost looked through every word of it, which probably violated ten faculty rules, if not twenty.

He is still clapping when you receive the graduation certificate from Joanna Klein, while he stands on the side. The next thing he knows, you are rushing towards him with a knife in your hand, carving his chest almost in half and he dies before the ambulance can reach the hospital.

His soul floats in mid-air as he watches everything pans out.

Laurie takes over everything, every property in their marriage.

You are charged with murder, serving your life-sentence in a max-security prison.

And Laurie… Laurie divorced him and marries the man she was having an affair with, decorating Andy’s house into a shit-yellow color, laughing and doesn’t have to worry about the rest of her life since she has all the money, cars, and houses that she could get their hands on…

Andy wakes up screaming.

Panting.

Taking a few seconds to realize that he is not in a ghost state and that he is still alive.

Alive. Awake. In his home. In the middle of the night.

Everything in the dream felt so real. Like it actually happened.

Andy touches his chest, where the skin and flesh are intact.

He is still alive.

He sweated through his sheet.

Another few seconds pass and he stays up, hands over his face, recalling the horrible dream.

The absolute nightmare where he told Joanna to switch you to his-

Shit.

He pulls himself over the bed and snatches his phone from the nightstand, checking his email.

The sudden blue light from his phone has him cursing. After flipping over his inbox and finding that he received the email of supervising students yesterday, but hasn’t made a move yet, he lets out an exhale of relief.

He groans and lies back to the bed. His heart still pounding frantically.

A string of curses flies out of his mouth.

Rest assured that he is not going to pull a favor and get you assigned to him.

But he wants you so bad.

How can he live when he wants you so bad and he pissed you off by saying the most harmful things that could be ever said to you?

Tag List: @geminiflanagansblog @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @nouk1998 @sarahdonald87 @charmed-asylum

#andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #professor andy barber #student reader #dancing in the daydream #wishful thinking #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst

[yvesdot]

yves, if only theoretically wanted to break into publishing or lit mags, do you have recommendations or advice?

My primary advice is to get to know as many writers as you can, as well as you can, quickly. I’ve recommended joining Discord servers for this in the past and will do so again; the most active ones I’m in are Max's @goose-books server (I think you have to ask for an invite?), WTW, and writeblr garden. Participate in book events virtually and in person when you can. When you like someone's work, tell them! And mention that you're an author, too.

Disclaimer: I haven't made it into any paid magazines, largely because I find submitting and waiting for months at a time before working on edits exhausting, particularly in comparison to instant money on Patreon—so have that grain of salt at the ready! All I've done is publish the one book, twice, and release a substantial amount of short fiction on my own. People read it and liked it, and now I have lovely anons like you who seem to respect me enough to ask for industry advice. Thank you! Hope you like long posts.

The reason I say the above is that, in my experience, the entirety of publishing is just one big who-do-you-know. Utterly non-exhaustive list of ways "knowing people" has helped me in my writing career below.

I left a middling review on a trans author's book, and in the correspondence that followed we became friends. Rysz Merey went on to start tRaum Books, and because we were friends, we put out the Something's Not Right anniversary edition together.

When I was at my university, I was loudly opinionated about books and writing and art in all of my classes, and a professor's words about me in an email to an author they knew became the blurb for that same edition of Something's Not Right.

I read Tragic Accident (a flash piece originally rejected by an online magazine for, in my opinion, cisgender reasons) last night at Flash Fiction Forum, the heads of which I know personally because, after a high school internship, I was directed to a friend of theirs to volunteer at her writing camp. I sold a lot of copies of the original SNR to teens at that camp, and I've sold dozens of copies since by linking to the book in the Zoom chat and bringing physical copies to in-person readings.

Tragic Accident may have ultimately been rejected from the venue I sent it to, but I only had that venue on my list because my beloved friend Fer @asablehart posted in WTW a spreadsheet of places to submit. I still use that spreadsheet, filled with dozens of extra places I researched on my own, and pass it on to anyone who asks. Fer also read The Traveler Wife and gave extremely insightful feedback on it; we've since done tons of great critique4critiques together and they're still my go-to if I need wise words on a piece of writing.

When I held my event at Bookshop Santa Cruz, I marketed my ass off. I'd learned from my previous event at the Diversity Center in town and focused heavily on reaching out to individual people: posting in Discord servers, DMing everyone I knew, and telling everybody I met in December that by the way I would be reading at Bookshop Santa Cruz in January. I worked my job as an author and my book and my event into every conversation I had with a stranger that month. Everyone responded positively! People want to know what you're working on.

But at the end of the day, under a third of attendees were people I hadn't previously considered friends in some way. The majority of the people who came were family, friends, coworkers, friends-of-friends dragged along by someone I knew well, etc. One coworker couldn't come but invited their housemates, who bought books and left saying they would read Band Girls at home. One of the friends who came met me when we would ride the same bus every week to class, and I initially spoke to him because I fully thought he was a transgender woman (he turned out to just be an extremely fashionable individual). That guy helped code my website. Of the three people who interviewed me locally for promotion, two are people I'm friends with and one I cold-emailed due to his past work.

One of the major servers I used to invite people to both of my events is one I was only added to because I met a goth girl who invited me to her dorm to watch her inject E into her thigh and when I reported back on this to another transfem friend that friend instantly named her because they were in the server together and multiple people in it knew me from my creative writing efforts so everybody agreed to add me. I literally only had that space to network because I said "nice boots" to a girl whose special interest turned out to be DIY HRT at a protest party about the chancellor getting a raise.

Claire Oshetsky came to my event and I made a point of finally starting to read their book beforehand so I could honestly tell them it was cool when I signed their copy of Something's Not Right (it was cool, and everyone should read Chouette, and also Poor Deer, which I am on page 10 on and can already certify is fantastic). They were incredibly nice to me for no reason—well, because of those interviews I had, which led to them noticing another nonbinary author in the area—and ultimately reviewed SNR very positively on GoodReads. You can see what happened to the numbers afterwards. (I also sold a copy that day; when you sell roughly a copy of a book per week, you can absolutely make these connections directly.)

Tonight was Claire Oshetsky's event, so I showed up having read Chouette in full and asked a question during the Q&A and told them how cool their book was, and they invited me to a little post-event author dinner. (One of the authors introduced herself as "Karen" and described a prolific writing career very opaquely until her friend mentioned the name of her latest novel: Booth.) Everyone was incredibly nice and wanted to buy my book which was unfortunately sold out because of the aforementioned event, and a couple of people gave me email addresses so they could buy it later. I've been trying to meet local authors for over a year, and I met seven by accident because one of them came up to me to say it was nice to see Bookshop Santa Cruz had two nonbinary readers in a row.

Talking to David Sedaris at an event got me a job! He complimented my outfit, I said thank you I wore it for the interview with [x], and he did everything he could to help me network with the [x] people there. I was later told that my "chemistry" with Sedaris, among other things, helped me get the position. I would also find out that David specifically loves the last people in the signing line because they're the most patient; I happened to have waited until last because I wanted to have more time to talk to him.

I have emailed several authors with fanmail, and depending on how popular they are, I have gotten responses! I'm in a correspondence right now which netted me a behind-the-scenes look at an incredible draft, and thank you for reminding me because I need to respond and tell them how good it was.

Patreon is on pause right now, but I believe over half the subscribers are people I'm friends with in one way or another. I've tried nearly everything under the sun to advertise, and so far the only thing that's worked is "telling someone who has the disposable income."

The people who beta-read my latest release, Band Girls (18+), for me (which is the only reason it wasn't an unmitigated disaster) include my butch, who met me in a Locked Tomb server (naturally), a friend from a creative writing class in university who later became my housemate, and a good buddy of my butch's whom they rescued from the aforementioned TLT server. I literally didn't even notice that guy when we were in the server together and it turns out he's also a writer with a Giant Lesbian Women project who also wound up really liking Long Line (18+). Glories are all around you.

(Also, apparently my butch had that "how to write a blurb" post bookmarked and immediately recognized me, which is crazy. Imagine meeting some random author in a fandom server and they ask to see your [redacted] in DMs.)

Hell, my buddy Max Franciscovich read my book five years ago in the back of a car and had a transcendental nonbinary lesbian experience, and because he happened to be mutuals with a high school friend of mine, that friend sent me screenshots of him panicking about how he couldn't talk to me because I was too cool. I DMed him, and we are like each other's female husbands now. Undoubtedly we have each gained a substantive reader base from hyping each other's work at anyone in earshot. Maxserver, which I shouted out above, only has me in it because I know the darn guy. It's a lot more populous than yvescord in part because he is that much more active than I am, and can engage with other people's work more. I'm mooching off the labor of my best friend who pseudo-reached-out to me because I put a pronoun pin on a character's bag in the book I self-published in 2018.

Speaking of which: I self-published the original edition of Something's Not Right as a thank-you birthday gift to the Beta Reader. I seem to remember him reading my writing for the first time and saying something along the lines of "You do realize this is really good, right?" (I did not realize.) That was the first person to appreciate any of my original fiction, and it led to my entire career. We met on a class trip because he was the only person who would listen to me talk about Star Wars.

I try to never ingenuinely be nice to people. This is not particularly difficult, because I like people and give the benefit of the doubt to a pretty extreme fault. I will occasionally be nice out of politeness, but everyone I mentioned here is someone I genuinely like whose work is fantastic. It wasn't hard to honestly say I liked them and their writing.

I also recognize that much of this is kind of just me blathering about Ws with no actionable advice... but it might give you ideas for where to go or who to talk to about your writing. I also want you to feel just how much of writing is about "networking" in a way that is not cold and manipulative and moneyhungry but actually just involves being genuine friends with other people. I think the sheer quantity of evidence here is helpful to understand just how much you can do for yourself by talking to the people you like.

I also think it's good practice to own the fact that very little of my microcelebrity success has anything to do with how good my work is. I mean, sure, I think it's good, but this should make it clear that my greatest strength has been my perseverance and my friendliness.

(Also, obviously, I have the immense privilege to have gone to college, to live in California, to get to all these places and meet these people and work with them. I had the money in the bank to publish and promote a book. This is not a small factor. I'm hoping to do a full rundown of costs and efforts to promote Something's Not Right's anniversary edition sometime this year.)

I also don't think I'm particularly good at socializing—I have a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, a difficulty with meeting people's eyes, and a mild stutter when I talk too quickly (which is often). A lot of people find me annoying or insincere because I act like a sentient powder puff, and when I'm not jumping up and down and meowing at people instead of saying "on your right," I'm complaining about the most widely-beloved pieces of pop culture and making two-hour rant videos about video games I think insufficiently scrutinize the concept of the nuclear family. I say all this to head off any concerns that perhaps I am just secretly very suave and social; I love talking to people, but I don't believe this is the case.

If I can summarize: nearly every time I've had any success with my writing, it's been because I made an effort to be kind to people I respected and share my passion for books and writing. I hit upon enough privileges and lucky circumstances to get the right circle of people to make all of the above happen. I think you can do it, too! I wish you the best. Thanks for asking ^__^

#yves talks #yves talks writing #txt #Good Lord this evil wall of text. Hope somebody enjoyed?? #writeblr #writeblr advice #writing advice #asks #important writing updates #snr2 #something's not right

[izicodes]

Improving Your Communication Skills

Hiya! This is a part 2 post of what I talked about in last Monday's post (LINK) where I talked about tips from my manager about 3 top skills to work on in the workplace, and I wanted to share them here! She mentioned; Work Ethic, Communication and Time Management.

Today, we will go over improving your communication skills in the workplace - but remember, her tips can be applied to any other environment!

What do 'communication skills' actually mean?

I believe we already know the definition but just in case: communication skills mean being able to express yourself clearly and listen carefully to others.

It's about sharing information, ideas, and thoughts with your coworkers, boss, and other important people at work, for example. The skills include how you talk and write, as well as how you use your body language and pay attention when others are speaking.

It's important to be able to understand what others are saying and respond appropriately.

Tips To Improving Your Communication Skills

Just like last time, it's a long list but worthwhile to think about! Here are all of the tips that my manager gave me and some extra notes I made afterwards:

Actively Participate In Team Discussions

Engage actively during team meetings and discussions. Share your thoughts, ideas, and ask relevant questions. I was very shy at the first ever meeting I attended and now I ramble on! It just takes time!

Seek Clarification

When assigned a task or receiving instructions, ask for clarification if anything is unclear. It's better to seek clarity upfront than to make assumptions and risk misunderstandings.

Offer Help And Support

Be proactive in offering assistance to your teammates when they need it. Collaboration and teamwork foster better communication.

Practice Effective Listening

Pay attention to what your colleagues are saying and show genuine interest. Avoid interrupting and allow others to express their thoughts fully.

Be Respectful And Considerate

Treat your teammates with respect and kindness. Be mindful of different perspectives and opinions, fostering a positive and inclusive team environment.

Be Responsive

Respond promptly to emails, messages, and requests from your teammates. Prompt communication helps maintain efficient workflows.

Use Appropriate Communication Channels

Utilize the right communication channels for different types of messages. For example, use email for formal requests and instant messaging for quick questions. At work, I use Microsoft Outlook for emails but we use Microsoft Teams for messaging people within the IT Department. I ask the Lead Developer lots of question via Teams!

Share Information And Knowledge

Share relevant information, insights, and resources with your team. Collaboration thrives on open communication and knowledge sharing. During my apprenticeship, one of the developers would always send me resources for C# for me to study on and I really appreciated that, it help build our relationship as well!

Communicate Progress And Challenges

Keep your team informed about your progress on tasks and projects. If you encounter challenges or roadblocks, communicate them early to seek support or find solutions together. This is something I do lack a bit, I didn’t want the Lead Developer to think I was ‘failing’, so I would wait until I understood and completed the task before telling him - but updating him frequently was something he wanted and appreciated, even if I was stuck!

Respect Deadlines

Stick to those agreed-upon deadlines for your deliverables. If you think there will be any delays, communicate proactively and discuss alternative solutions. Plenty of times the deadline has been pushed forward for some of my work tasks, sometimes months forward!

Use Professional And Concise Language

When communicating through written channels (documents, emails, etc), use professional and concise language. Plain and simple to read, no need to sound like a professor in the 50s just to sound "smart".

Foster A Culture Of Open Communication

Encourage open and transparent communication within your team. Be approachable and create an environment where team members feel comfortable expressing their thoughts and concerns. You don’t want people to feel ‘scared’ to discuss things with you!

I hope you learnt something today and have some kind of good self-reflection on your own communication skills. Again this is part 2 of 3 posts I made on skills for the workplace, you can check out part 1 "Improving Your Work Ethic" here - LINK~!

#resources #my resources #career advice post #coding #codeblr #programming #progblr #studyblr #studying #tech #work tips #work life #career #career tips #career advice

[levmada]

at last, i have the time to send you multiple of these because i cream whenever i read something you write. anyway…

could i ask for levi… college au and call from this list? but levi is the one in distress? it’s usually common that the reader is crying, but it would be nice to see levi getting comforted too :’)

(from more hurt/comfort, if the link doesn’t work :s)

ik i just posted a long oneshot yesterday but my drafts are clogged. i fucking love comforting levi so this is the first of ur requests i worked on suki :3 i hope u like it

content/warnings: Kenny is actually not that bad?, negative self-talk, HURT/COMFORT SO MUCH COMFORT, death of a parent, taking care of Levi, college au, specific descriptions/themes of severe depression

wc: 2.5k

One muse calls sender late at night in tears and the other comes over to comfort them. 

Levi knows, in a vague, peripheral way, that he is being shitty to you with no intention to. Not a day ever goes by where you two don’t talk, but he hasn't responded to Erwin or Hange’s texts, either. Emails from professors, too. Even Mikasa has been blowing up his phone since she heard from her mom what happened, but.

He has spent the better part of the past two days in bed since leaving class early on Thursday.

That’s fucking unheard of for him, especially answering his uncle of all people, but five silent, missed calls later Levi picked up, and down the line, Kenny’s voice was urgent.

Kenny. Urgent.

It’s the weekend, Levi rationalized to himself on Friday. Grades would be okay. His social life would suffer, but he would text you Saturday morning after he got his mental shit together.

The worst part is he fucking knew he was in denial—again, in the vague, peripheral way.

Now, with Sunday night’s moon glaring in through his bedroom window, he realizes he doesn’t give a shit about any of it.

A mishmash of tasks, far removed from any coherent list, bothers him from time to time—most often after he blinks from his perpetual frozen stupor to his phone ringing; besides Mikasa, you’ve called the most.

He needs to...

He realizes he’s been stroking his oily hair without realizing, all in the dark for however long, and stops. It felt soothing.

A shower. Dishes. He hasn't eaten much lately, but all the same. Homework... unless he emails his professors for extensions.

He has no doubt in his mind that he would get them, but just typing the words makes his train of thought derail into hell. Despite how vague he could be—“I need to attend a funeral.”; “There has been a death in my family.”; “I am experiencing a loss.”—heavy nausea twists his stomach in knots just to put the words together in his head.

He hasn’t changed out of your woolen sweater since Friday, the one with the panda bear. It’s also soothing.

But changing clothes is also on that list.

And he needs to call you, at the very least so you don’t lose your mind, or jump to the worst conclusions…

He’s being shitty to you by ignoring you, but the idea of reaching for his phone where it sits charging on the bedside table, the idea of rolling over, the idea of rubbing his eyes… It all feels as possible as flipping over gravity.

Laying in dead darkness isn’t going to make him feel any better, he knows. The quiet is piercing. The way he lays curled up under blankets isn’t unlike a corpse, either, but this deep in the hole, he’s struggling to get himself out.

He is not... in a good... place.

Bright white light washes over the ceiling as another call from you—that's your picture flashing, a candid photo he took of you almost tumbling out of your kayak from last summer—lights up his phone.

Move, he commands himself. It’s a foot away. Quit being pathetic and just. MOVE!

“Shit,” he croaks.

You’re worrying the shit out of them, you asshole!

After whipping the loose sleeve across his eyes, he lurches up and snatches his phone.

He forgot. The charging cable is yanked from the outlet and clatters on hardwood.

Shit. That couldn’t make the top fifteen on his list of priorities right now.

He tugs the cord from his phone and actually sets it on the floor at least. With his back killing him (from how long he has rotted in this fucking bed), he flops back and sluggishly rolls onto his side.

But as soon as he goes to press the green call button, it rings its last.

For a few unbelieving moments, he stares at his dark screen, not processing. The wider darkness turns blurry.

“Okay,” he whispers at last, and clears his voice of its rough edges in preparation.

It’s just like you to be up this late on a Sunday night; catching up on homework, probably. But he’s worrying himself sick over taking up the rest of your night. He doesn’t plan to go to class tomorrow.

He taps your contact through his stinging eyes, brimming with unshed tears.

And he’s worried about what he’ll say. He has practiced, wracked his mind for the right words, but he just can’t.

But it’s better you hear from him first. Eventually, you would find out anyway—Mikasa will tell Eren who will tell you in class tomorrow, he bets—and he can’t think of anyone else to talk to. No one that wouldn’t drain the life out of him, and-or make him feel somehow worse, and-or someone he can talk to when he’s like this.

The call rings once—no, less than once.

“Levi?” your breathy voice, full of exasperation hits his ear. His throat instantly lurches. “Are... Are you there? Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you since Friday. I thought maybe your phone broke, but—”

But you haven’t seen him in that class you have together, and no one else has heard from him either, he knows, but he lets you speak. He needs time to collect himself. And he can bathe in the sound of your voice for the first time in two hellish days.

"Levi? Baby?"

“I’m.” He cringes at the crack in his voice that already threatens to shatter. “I’m here.”

Your tone shifts into absolute concern. “There you are. I missed you.”

It shows how well you know him, you not asking what’s wrong directly.

His adam’s apple hiccups as he swallows, but the knot in his throat won’t give, and so a soft sob escapes instead.

“Shh...” He can practically see the surprise on your face. “Lev’ I’m here, I’m here...”

Eyes shut tight, he shoves his fist in his mouth in order to stop. The last thing he should be crying about is hearing your voice, you comforting him without even asking for an explanation.

“I’m here, sweetie.”

“…You’re n-not here,” he grinds out. He doesn’t know where this sudden flux of anger is coming from. “S-Something,” he gasps, crying, “Something happened.”

Your voice leaves. Quiet feels endless, until, “Okay, I’m coming over. And don’t you dare say no, if you were going to.” He hears a laptop slamming shut and the creak of your mattress when he strains his ears. “I’m on my way right now, so it’ll just be a few minutes, okay?”

It takes ten to get from your dorm to his apartment. “Don’t fucking speed,” he whispers.

“I won’t,” you tell him gently. He’s glad you don’t take that as a joke right now. “Promise.”

He shudders a tearful breath and smears his sleeve down his cheeks, which are wet.

The conversation is nearing its end: he hears the thump of a car door closing.

No part of him would have had the energy to turn you down. In fact, spending another ten minutes the same way he has spent the entire weekend looms over him now, encompassing.

“Could you...” Now he’s not only whimpering pathetically, but congested. “…Not hang up?”

“I was just about to say that,” you say. Your engine hums to life. “I can tell you about my weekend while we wait?”

He won’t have to talk, and not about himself. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Sure.”

The rest of the world fades out as you search for topics to ramble about, from your misadventures grocery-shopping on Saturday, to how shrimp-flavored Ramen is actually sinfully underrated, the flood in the laundry room...

He’s much calmer by the time your engine shuts off, but that only makes room for the numbness.

“I’m here,” you say down the other line. “Can I let myself in?”

Instead of getting ready, he forgot to move from his current spot—cuddled up to a fat pillow on his side with your voice set on top—since you got on the road.

“Yeah.” His absent voice is something between a grunt and a whisper. “But it’s… messy.”

Just as your keychain jingles down the other line, his front door down the hallway, in front of the living room, clicks open.

“Are you in bed?” you ask. He can hear you both ways.

Answering that question makes him feel like shit for some reason. “Sorry about the mess,”he murmurs, feeling shittier still, and hangs up.

And his place isn’t the only mess. His hair is a greasy nest of some kind, he can feel his eyes are swollen, and he got snot all over your fucking sweater.

Suddenly, he would rather rot away under these blankets the rest of the night than have you be subjected to him like this.

His bedroom isn’t your first stop. Maybe it’s because he didn’t answer your obvious question, so you’re giving him time to collect himself before he comes out.

Then in the kitchen, the sink starts running. Something clatters.

Are you doing his dishes?

His brow knits. He ghosted you all weekend, and now on a Sunday night he has you doing his dishes. Guilt like a fucking tsunami drags him under.

Yet, it’s still impossible to stand.

His eyes sting, pricked by fresh, unshed tears.

Compared to his usual habits, he has slept ages this weekend. He feels himself drift and doze to the tune of the dishes making small racket, even through the faint whistle of the kettle. It feels unimportant, like background noise.

He stirs though, as the mattress sags by his head. His phone makes a soft thunk as it’s placed back on the nightstand. Something clicks back into the wall.

Those tears from before make their appearance, so he turns his head so his face is in the pillow. His first breath has him struggling; he cried so much he can’t physically breathe through his nose.

Your warm voice chimes through the darkness. “I made some tea. Can I turn on the light so you can drink it?”

His nails dig into his palm. “The,” a breath through his mouth, “lamp.”

Beyond the pillow’s gentle realms, he hears a click before a faint glow invades the dark. A hand floats down to his shoulder, and rubs, but he doesn’t make himself move.

You must have at least some idea of the kind of state he’s in now, yet you still haven't asked the obvious.

You knew Mom’s health was getting worse, unexplainable symptoms for an unknown illness, but not... Not what happened on Friday. Not that he didn’t even get a chance to hear her voice one last time. Not Kenny’s call.

“I’m right here,” you tell him. “Everything’s gonna be alright, sweetie.”

Are you an angel? Your hand cards his wet bangs off his face, and he cringes. He knows the grease doesn’t matter to you, but it does to him.

“I didn't ask you to do all that,” he protests weakly, unmoving. By the shift in the mattress, he can tell you’re reaching for tissues.

They’re precariously balanced on top of the pillow. “Do you want a change of clothes?”

He shudders a sigh without really meaning to, he’s so mentally exhausted. Clearly he won’t be getting anywhere in terms of complaining, so he does the bare minimum of pushing himself up on one arm. Without looking at you, he takes a tissue.

Your free hand is right there, though. He reaches, and shyly takes that, too. When you squeeze, he squeezes back a little too quickly.

A fresh cup of steaming tea waits on the nightstand for him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, head still downturned.

“Always.” You pet his hair down. “I’ll start the shower.”

“Okay.” His voice breaks. “Thanks.”

Properly sat up, he finishes the incredible cup of tea you brewed before you even get back. For one thing, he can’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, and he’s been losing a lot of water. Plus, you’re the only one who knows how he likes it, and… it comforts him in a way little else can.

Once he’s done washing up under the hot water, having stood there long enough for his hands to prune, he changes into the navy pullover, briefs, and sweatpants you brought for him.

Now he idles in the doorway, still not quite believing you’re not an angel. Another steaming cup waits on his nightstand, and you’ve been cleaning up more. His made bed has clean sheets, and the rest of his dirty laundry is gone. You even re-organized his desk.

You look up from your seat at the foot of the bed as the bathroom door peeks open.

Usually, you get onto him for his cleaning habits. Then again, he never, ever cries in front of you.

“Hi.” You smile faintly. “It’s okay. You don't have to talk about it.”

He looks down and away.

“But… can I stay the night?”

“Yeah.”

But he won’t be going to class tomorrow, and he can’t say that a shower and some tea will be enough to shake him out of this. It won’t be. He doesn’t want support like this while you don’t even know why—to him it feels unfair.

You scoot back on the bed, the springs whining under your weight, and untuck the sheets. For how impossible everything felt earlier, nothing could have stopped him from climbing into bed and crawling into your arms.

You both settle down. The blankets are pulled up to his shoulders, which you wrap your arms around.

“I like that shampoo.” You kiss the top of his head.

He blinks mildly. Mostly, he just listens to your heart. “Thank you.”

In the mirror, it looked like he had applied red eyeshadow, the bags under his eyes dark beyond belief. The swelling is a little better after a hot shower.

“I don’t wanna keep you in the dark,” he explains. Those must be the most words he's spoken all weekend.

You wait while carding your fingers through his damp hair.

“It’s Mom.”

“Oh.” The word leaves you like a punch. Your soothing hand stutters, but doesn’t stop. “Is she getting worse…?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t know how to say it. “No. Not anymore.”

Silence.

“Oh, Levi.” You take him further into your warm caress until he’s all but curled up on top of you. Your hand strokes his back up and down.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” you whisper, a touch heavy. “I’m so sorry.”

He squeezes you tight, trying to burrow into your arms, and shuts his eyes even tighter. The feeling that sits in his chest, begging him to cry even more, returns at full-force.

He doesn’t know what to say to that, because it will never be okay.

You offer to email his professors, maybe tell them in person, so he can have some much-needed time to grieve. Even his homework you say you can do, but he turns you down on that one. It’s enough that you just...

“…stay. Here.”

“You have me,” you reassure into his hair. “I got you.”

Enter the event here!

taglist: @ackermandick | @midtwenties-angst | @sckerman | @halloweenmedic | @katty | @jayteacups | @notgoodforlife | @peace-for-levi | @chaotic-nick | @b-o-n-e-daddy | @levisbrat25 | + link to sign up

#levi x reader #levi ackerman fluff #aot hurt/comfort #levi ackerman x you #levi fluff #levi hurt/comfort #levi ackermann x reader #levi x y/n #levi attack on titan #levi x you #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #aot levi #levi fic #1k.event #g.scribe

[poetryofmac]

Top 20 Tested, Tried, True, & Trusted Tips for College Success

I dare you to try that 3 times fast! …and hi! It’s Mac Crushes Monday! The day I crush Monday into the dirt with y’all’s help! Inbox me something motivational, okay?

Anyway, I don’t think I’ve mentioned this to y’all but I’m on Dean’s List at my college. I want to help other people so here I am to do that. If you find anything helpful in this post, please share it for others!

1.      Vague is a waste of time. You won’t get a good grade. I try to spend another thirty minutes or whatever adding specifics. It’s worth it, trust me.

2.      The first thing I do at the beginning of a semester is get ahold of that syllabus! Plug all your due dates into your calendar & block out scheduled times to work on schoolwork.

3.      In terms of that last tip, I plan what I’m going to work on and when. It’s like budgeting, except with time instead of money. Y’all… planning which assignments to tackle and when has SAVED ME from missing due dates!

4. I include a “safety block” in that scheduling habit. Perhaps a day on the weekend to play catch up if I skipped a blocked-out time for schoolwork during the week. Look, life and lack of motivation happens. Be prepared.

5.      Are you to your safety block at the end of the week and still don’t want to work on school with the little time you have left? Suck it up and do it. I know you probably wanted an easier tip but really, it’s what you have to do.

6.      Skip Google Scholar. Use JSTOR and ProQuest with your institutional access instead. Google Scholar, though a great resource, includes many articles and peer-reviewed journals that cost to access with no way to filter those out.

7.      Include an italicized section of “Notes” after your “Works Cited” section. This section of notes explains to my professors why I included certain features in my paper, or violated any of the guidelines, or whatever. I can do this without sending a separate explanation in an email; or worse, skipping an explanation all together. Don’t do that!

8.      Citation Machine is a website where you plug in a link or a what-have-you and it’ll pump out your citation to simply copy and paste into your paper. Tried and true. I depend on Citation Machine a little too heavily, to be honest.

9.      CITE ALL SOURCES and avoid using information from someone else’s essay you found online, or Wikipedia, etc. You WILL eventually get caught, I promise, and it’s not worth the risk of being thrown out of your college!

10.      I don’t let utilizable study tips sit in my Pinterest boards collecting dust. I use them. Shoot, some of them might’ve even inspired this list!

11.      Studying in a library or coffee shop can be very distracting. It will either motivate you or hinder you. Figure out which person you are. For me personally, doing school at home increases my focus and enhances my productivity, versus being out somewhere.

12.      Try different incentives to study and if the right incentive helps you, stick to it. Whether it’s your “Cheat Meal” being on study day after you finish, or something totally different... a hit of the reward hormone Dopamine can work wonders.

13.      If you don’t understand something, your luck will be that it will be on the exam. Don’t skip over it no matter how badly you want to. Grab Google to help you figure it out.

14.      To memorize something, I physically write it down, literally say it out loud, and quiz myself, answering out loud. For most confidence-boosting results, articulate it as impressively as you can.

15.   What kind of learner are you? Find out, then research how to succeed as this type of learner.

16.   Stay organized! Being messy may be associated with brilliance, but organization is associated with success.

17.   Aim to make Best Attendance Award. Unless you are violently or contagiously sick, do not skip. Commit to the classes and learning experience good money was spent on, and be proud that you are! Wear it as a badge of honor.

18.   Don’t miss the point: Ask questions! “Why are we learning this? What does this tie into? How can I use this in the future?” This can help motivate you to learn.

19.   Sit in the front or second row. Show the teacher you’re serious and force yourself to pay attention. A professor being able to clearly see me if I’m on my phone DOES deter me from using it when I could be taking notes.

20.   It can be hard work to come up with your own great conclusions and ideas. However, that’s what librarians, professors, and tutors are for to help you with. With their help, commit to honing new skills and improving yourself academically.

Bonus: I need mentors and so do you! Start your assignment early as crap so you can contact mentors for help when you’re in an area where you feel stuck.

#study tips #college tips #study help #college help #college advice

[dani-sdiary]

Vent: Autism Misinformation in Textbook

This is a homework problem and data set from my online Intro to Statistics class:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is there a relationship between autism and what an infant is fed? To determine if there is, a researcher asked mothers of autistic (A) and non-autistic (N) children to say what they fed their infant.

A: Breastfed: 10, Formula w/DHA/ARA: 40, Formula w/o: 66

N: Breastfed: 10, Formula w/DHA/ARA: 24, Formula w/o: 11

Since data were collected for _2_ _qualitative_ variable(s), the correct graph to make is a _side-by-side bar chart_"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, I am autistic, and, spoiler alert, it has absolutely nothing to do with what my mother fed me.

I was shocked to see a question like this in the very first week of the quarter considering I live in a very liberal city and go to a community college that strongly emphasizes combating this very sort of thing. Every syllabus is required to have a land acknowledgement, a DEI statement, and information and links to many campus resources such as access services, tutoring, the student counseling center, financial aid, and crisis hotlines, and many professors include additional paragraphs about respect and safety specific to their class.

Since this a remote course, I don't know much about the professor, but, from her written posts, she seems kind, friendly, and easy-going. My professor did not write this textbook, and I am unsure as to whether she, the department head, or someone else chose it for the class, whether it's used in Statistics 101 classes taught by other professors, nor whether she's used it for her previous classes (if any). I'm not sure how long the school or this class has been using this textbook or how long this professor has been teaching, but I am almost certainly not the only autistic student who has ever taken one of the most popular 100-level courses that fulfills a graduation requirement.

I do not believe that she had any bad intentions or saw this question as anything more than a random example, but it's my lived experience. We shouldn't have to deal with misinformation and stereotypes at any time, but especially not an in environment we're paying to be in because we want to learn and improve ourselves.

I am also going to school to become a teacher, and I completely understand the lack of readily available materials that are up-to-date. The textbook she assigned was free, which I really appreciate, and I don't want my complaint to lead to her switching to an expensive textbook and create a bigger problem for myself and my classmates. I don't think it's necessary to switch to a different textbook, and she won't be able to since the class has already started, but she might remove that particular question from the homework, or replace it with another. I'm not trying to cause a huge issue, I just wish I didn't have to deal with this. I'm tired of it.

Should I email my professor? Should I wait until the end-of-course surveys and leave a comment there? As I said, I don't have much information. Should I let it go and move on? Am I overreacting?

Unfortunately, I'm sure many of you have had similar experiences, from elementary school to college. What should I do? Any advice is appreciated. Thank you in advance.

#advice #ask #send help #send advice #give me ideas #please #give me advice #autism #audhd #neurodiversity #neurodivergent #neurodivergency #autistic #thank you #cw vent #venting #vent post #personal vent #tw vent #vent blog #vent #rant post #mini rant #ranting #sorry for the rant #personal rant #rant #high school #school #college

[surely-galena]

A very short collection of Giann & Marius fic recs

(for @roshie-writes who asked in this post and I didn't want to go over the character/word limit in the comments)

i see dead people (against my will) by @samsspambox

Artem, for as long as he could remember, was able to see things others couldn’t.

Yes, Senior Attorney Artem Wing can see ghosts.

He could see ghosts and hid the ability for as long as he could remember. That was his life and, frankly, it was a good one. No one but Neil knew about his ability (and even then, he was still skeptical), he had a crush on a coworker for the first time in his life, and no ghosts had ever come to haunt him.

He just never expected to see Giann von Hagen back in the NXX office.

or alternatively: artem wing sees the ghost of giann and has to deal with the fallout. which may include telling his maybe friends

While the focus of Sam's fic here is mostly on Artem & Giann, there's a lot of Giann content (and a lot of Marius, too)! It's Marius having to come to terms with Giann dying and ghost!Giann trying to communicate with his brother through Artem. Also Giann being a little menace and found family shenanigans if you enjoy that :D

There's a Giann death scene so heads up for that (but I personally find it to be really well written). Overall this fic is a good mixture of comedy and angst and it absolutely does pull at the heartstrings!

-

you can run, you can hide, but this email WILL find you! by @actualbird

from: Vyn Richter [[email protected]] to: Marius von Hagen [[email protected]] subject: Tutoring Details

Good day, Marius.

I am Dr. Vyn Richter, a professor as well as a friend of your brother, Giann. I am sure that at this point, he has explained to you his request that I be your tutor. I agreed, though the wording of his explanation to me seems that this is a non-negotiable for you. Rest assured, I will ensure that our classes will not be a hindrance in any way. Instead, what I have planned is a course to aid your transition towards your postgraduate studies.

Attached is the syllabus and schedule for our classes, both open to reasonable adjustments. If you have questions, you may email me any time after 12:00pm.

Best regards, Vyn Richter, Ph.D. Associate Professor Department of Psychology Stellis University

from: Marius von Hagen [[email protected]] to: Vyn Richter [[email protected]] subject: Tutoring Details

Cool, got this. See ya. ✌️

Sent from my iPhone

-

Before going missing, Giann asks Vyn to tutor Marius. Vyn agrees. (A story of annoyance and acceptance, all told through emails.)

If you enjoy epistolary fic, look no further than this one Zak wrote a while back! I still think back to this fic and your question gave me the chance to go back and have a reread :D

The main focus is Vyn and Marius figuring out their tutoring sessions (and a prelude to found family), but there's also a lot of background Marius & Giann and Vyn & Giann. It's tagged as comedy and light angst, so you know what's going down with Giann during the events of the fic :')

10/10 would recommend, I mean the fic is already on this list of recs but I just want to reiterate that this one is really good.

-

Tiny plug-in for myself but it's just chapter 3 of my fic The L stands for Lukecrative (link leads to ch3) for a very specific scene when Marius has a flashback about getting ice cream with Giann as a kid. You don't necessarily need the context of the previous two chapters to understand what's going on, but I've provided the link for the ease of navigating straight to the ice cream scene if you wish.

-

Posts here on tumblr:

Time by @samsspambox -- a giann von hagen musing (about marius, about his mother)

yes marius and giann have matching tattoos and heres how they (emotionally) end up getting it by @actualbird -- 1.5K words; Giann takes Marius to get a tattoo and then decides to get a matching one, too, because he doesn't want Marius to be in pain alone

hey, who made the NXX logo? also by @actualbird -- Giann commissions Marius to make the NXX logo we see in HQ

@cheri-carnival 's translated comics from artist 君楽研 (jun le yan) [1] [2] [3]

Some fic concepts by me based on fake titles Sam gave me, but the second one spotlights Giann and Marius

-

Hope you find something you like in here, roshie-writes!! Have a good rest of your day!

#unfortunately it's a bit tricky to find fics focused only on marius and giann! #giann von hagen #marius von hagen #tears of themis #tears of themis fic #I have a giann & marius fic concept in my doc of ideas so maybe I should bump that up just to throw in my two cents into the tag haha

[the-foolish-scholar]

Strength

Okay so I actually designed the card above myself! I was sitting in a lecture and heard my professor share the proverb that’s on the card and I got inspired to make it. One day, I will design my own deck, but I’m in no rush to complete that project. Anyhoo, The Strength card is the ninth card of the Major Arcana. In traditional depictions of the card, we see a woman controlling a powerful lion. The woman is dressed in a white robe, representing her purity of spirit. The robe is accompanied by both a belt and a crown of flowers which remind querents of the beauty and balance of nature. Above the woman’s head rests an infinity symbol, symbolizing her infinite potential and wisdom. The woman controls the lion not by force, but by compassion and care. She looks down upon it with a warm smile, petting it. This imagery teaches us that we may tame our passions and channel the energy from them into achieving our desires. Not with force or coercion, but with emotional strength, trust, and patience.

-

Earlier today (I started writing this yesterday, I’m too lazy to edit it) I had my first class through the University of El Salvador. I will continue to have class on Saturdays up until late October as I was invited to participate in this certificate program being held by faculty from a few different departments at the national university. God willing, I will have a certificate in the political history of El Salvador in about seven months. I’m extremely thankful and I’m still in shock that this is happening.

I never planned on enrolling in a formal course while I was here, nonetheless a certificate program! But, I came across this post on Facebook advertising the program and it piqued my interest:

I tried to fill out the form to apply but it was already closed due to a high volume of applicants. Accepting my losses, I reached out to the email provided in the post and asked if the coordinator of the program would be able to send me some recommended readings since I would not be able to participate in the program. Within less than an hour, I got a response. They told me that they would gladly share some sources with me—and that if I wanted, they could potentially share them with me as a student in the class! They reopened the link so that I could apply!

I was ecstatic. I couldn’t believe how much luck was on my side. I quickly filled out the form and sent an email back thanking them for giving me the opportunity.

The next day I got a message telling me I was accepted. I was over the moon but also a little bit nervous to now have this new responsibility. The coordinator of the program sent me the link I needed to access the course along with my log in credentials. They also filled me in on the structure of our first class so that I would be prepared. I expressed how I worried about my language abilities impacting my ability to perform well in the course, but they assured me that I would get the hang of academic talk as time went on and told me to not worry. It’s like I’m taking a political science class but all in Spanish… A challenge, but one I’m up for!

On the day of class I logged on with a cup o’ joe and a sticky note with a meticulously edited blurb I intended to read to introduce myself to the class with. The faculty began to introduce themselves and discuss the importance of the program. After they all had introduced themselves, the coordinator of the program began their presentation.

I was so thankful to have the slides, as they spoke so fast. This is their second time running this program and boy is it comprehensive. The course’s methodology is made up by live lectures, pre-recorded lectures, auditory and visual media, and readings. As students, we’ll be expected to work in groups and hold debates in class. And, we’ll be expected to complete homework, which I believe to be short essays, along with a final project. If I’m being honest, I have no idea how I’m going to do it all. I just know that, somehow, I will.

There are seven units. The first is a general overview of El Salvador’s political history along with an analysis of Salvadoran society. From there, we’ll learn about the origin of the territory and the lives of the first peoples in the pre-Columbian era. The third unit covers the colonization of the indigenous from their perspective, which I am really excited to learn about as history rarely represents such perspectives—like the quote on the tarot card I designed explains! The course will then go on to cover Central America’s independence and the construction of the Salvadoran state. In the fifth unit, we’ll take a deep dive into the structure of the coffee republic and the peasant organizing that took place in response to the oppression during the time period (for more details on this, refer to my post titled The Magician). We’ll then learn about the military dictatorships and the civil war, closing out the program discussing the post war period, neoliberalism, and contemporary politics.

After we finished learning about the course, it was time for the students to introduce themselves. I had done so many mindfulness exercises to try and stay calm but the nerves kicked in. I was so afraid of fucking up. The coordinator of the program called out names and I kept wondering when it was going to be my turn.

About halfway through, they called on me. I felt like I was going to die. I turned on my camera and microphone and spit out what I had prepared. It was definitely far from my best (albeit more regular) pronunciation, but nevertheless, I did it. I’m pretty sure everyone could tell how nervous I was, but I tried my best to appear like I was relaxed. I’m the only non-native speaker in the class after all!

We were supposed to bring up a historical figure that we were interested with/that we identified with and I brought up Patricia Puertas, a peasant organizer and martyr who knew Rutilio Grande (the first priest to be assassinated for speaking out against injustice). Faculty were impressed with my reference of her, which made me feel proud of myself, as she’s one of the lesser known figures in Salvadoran history. Below I've included a collage that was made, with all of the historical figures that were brought up by my fellow classmates:

I know about her because a theologian who’s work I’ve read mentioned her and because last year when I was here on a delegation with CIS, we went to a meeting with a group of organizers that named their group after her.

I never felt more relieved to turn off my camera and my microphone in my life after I was finished speaking. I hadn’t been in a situation where the pressure was on like that in quite some time. I thought about how all of the international students that I’d met at Miami went through the same thing; and I felt so much empathy for them in that moment. What a stressful way to get an education!

But, I did it once, so I can surely do it again. I’ll get more comfortable and I’ll get better at speaking like an academic in Spanish sooner rather than later.

I think that it’s just frustrating because while I have all of this knowledge and things I want to express I have a limited capacity for saying it in Spanish, which I assume makes me come off as unqualified and less intelligent than I actually am. But people ought to understand that, and if they don’t, well I don’t care what others think of me that much at the end of the day.

Participating in this is also a good way to dip my toes into continuing my education abroad, as I’m considering getting my masters either here or in another Latin American country. If I choose to go down that route, having this experience under my belt will surely help me be more confident and capable down the line.

While I’ve been jumping all over the place in terms of next steps, I’m pretty sure that I want to pursue a masters in sociology (and eventually a doctorate, fingers crossed) keeping a focus on religion and social movements.

After class got out I kind of just lounged around. I watched Succession and I read for pleasure. I was really tired so I kept dozing in and out of sleep. I wanted to go out but I was too worn out.

Today, as it is now Sunday, Palm Sunday to be specific, I woke up early. At 5:00 AM. I went to mass with the Italians and my landlord at 6:00 AM. There was such a huge turn out. I was surprised to see so many people that early. I cannot imagine how big the crowds got at the later masses. The Italians participated in a procession outside, but I chose to stick with the landlord and we attended mass inside of the church.

We bought palms, or ramos, from vendors on the street and then grabbed a spot in a pew near the back of the church. We got pelted with holy water which gave me the boost I needed since I had not had the chance to drink any coffee beforehand. I noticed that all of the religious figures in the church that were not Jesus, except for a portrait of Saint Romero, were covered in purple cloth. I didn’t realize that was a tradition and I’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon looking into the ritual and its purpose. The homily was rather traditional, but the priest did condemn economic injustice. After communion was passed out, we dipped, getting back home a little after 7:00 AM.

I lounged around in bed for a bit. When the Italians came home we briefly discussed the differences in homilies between both of our masses. I was running out the door to head to a café to write this post and conduct some secondary research but I was intrigued by where the conversation was heading. We agreed to discuss more later. And that’s pretty much it when it comes to what I did this weekend?

I had a delicious traditional breakfast complete with scrambled eggs with ham, refried beans, cheese, plantains, and bread. The coffee at this place I’ve been going to never disappoints either. It’s cheaper than any of the chains and they give you a good portion. I’m cashing out here and then I’m gonna sneak into a hotel pool nearby.

Oh, also, when I was at the UCA on Monday I was a guest speaker in Tizziana’s classes. In her beginner class I discussed why I had decided to learn Spanish and then I encouraged them to speak without fear of making mistakes, as it’s better to make a connection and share one’s perspective than to sit in silence. In the upper level class we had a more in depth discussion about language exchange and life in the United States. Tizziana had to leave the advanced class early but I stayed with the students and that’s where the fun really started. Let’s just say that I’ve given them some new vocabulary and gained a fair amount of followers on Instagram. And I also got to teach both classes some mindfulness exercises!!!

Okay, I’m signing off. Thanks for reading! I hope you all had a great weekend.

Z

#Youtube

[snowdice]

Creased Hoodies (Chapter 4: Peppermint Tea) [Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sander Sides

Relationships: Logan/Virgil, Janus/Patton (background), Remus & Roman  (background)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Virgil

Appear: Patton, Roman

Mentioned: Janus, Remus

Summary: Virgil just wanted to go on his planned summer research trip to do an anthropological study in 2005 America. However, when he is taken off course by an unknown enemy, he ends up stranded in the summer of 2018 with no way to get back the the 44rd century. Luckily, 2018 happens to be where a certain illegal time agency is based, and he might have an in with one of its agents.

This is the intermission for the story Folds in Paper. It takes place between Folds in Paper Book 1 and Book 2. It also takes place after the first 5 chapter of “Messages for a Hacker” which are side stories in the universe. Check all of this and more out on my Folds in Time Master Post.

Chapter Summary: The boys deal with that revelation.

Notes: Time travel AU

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Virgil was unsure why everyone in the room was suddenly looking at him like he’d just revealed he was an alien in a human suit.

Pat was the first person who recovered from whatever had come over all of them. “You know someone named Remus?” Patton confirmed. “Who looks like him?”

“Yes…” Virgil said. “I-is he not Remus.”

Pat shook his head. “No. That’s Roman. Roman has a twin brother named Remus.”

“Oh,” Virgil said with a frown. “I didn’t know Remus had any family.”

“Well,” Lo said. “That would make sense.”

The Remus lookalike, Roman apparently, who had been staring blankly at Virgil since he’d said Remus’s name finally closed his mouth. Then he immediately opened it again. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you in my kitchen? Where are you from? How do you know my brother?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes, not particularly liking the man’s tone. Or, for that matter, his shitty bread choices.

“This is Virgil Eran,” Lo answered for him. “He’s a professor of anthropology from the 4500s who was meant to be on a research trip to 2005. However, something went wrong with his timepiece and Patton brought him back here so we could help.”

Patton, huh?

Lo turned back to him. “However, I would also very much like to know how you know his brother.”

“Remus works for the TPI,” Virgil explained. He looked at Patton. “I’m surprised you haven’t run into him. He’s Janus’s partner.”

Patton thought for a long moment. “Gr-green paint guy?” he asked.

“What?” Virgil asked.

“There was a man with Janus in 2999 who was covered in green neon paint,” Patton said. “Could that have been him?”

“That honestly sounds like something he’d wear, yeah,” Virgil said. “Especially if he was going to 2999.”

“Huh,” Patton said contemplatively. “I’d have never known.”

Virgil clearly was missing something, so he turned to Lo. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Remus and Roman were separated a long time ago,” Lo replied. “We have been looking for him pretty much ever since.”

“Oh,” said Virgil.

“Since we were 8, in particular,” Roman said. He’d seemed to recover from his shock at least a bit. He moved to put his sacks of gross bread on the counter.

“I assume you can put us in contact with Remus once we sort out the current issues of getting you back to your time?” Logan asked.

Virgil eyed Roman. “I mean, sure,” he said. “It’d be easy enough. I’ll just send him an email.”

“An email?” Roman said, something funny in his tone. Virgil couldn’t imagine what was going through his head at the moment. He was pretty sure he didn’t understand half of it.

Patton, at least, seemed to have some idea what to do because he stood up. “Hey, Ro,” he said. “Why don’t we go to the other room and talk for a bit?”

Patton nudged him towards the kitchen door.

Virgil looked at Lo once they were out of sight. “Do you want to…?” he asked.

“From experience, I am aware that Pat is more adept at helping in these situations,” Lo said. “I will… take them tea when the water finishes boiling.”

“Ah, okay,” said Virgil. “Also, you already let a ‘Patton’ slip.”

Lo winced. “I did?” he asked, but then sighed. “Well, we were already aware the TPI would eventually know our names anyway.”

Virgil tilted his head. “Do I get to know your name then?” he asked.

Lo studied him for a long moment; Virgil could swear he could see math equations floating in his eyes as he contemplated his response. He pressed his thumb to his lip briefly as he thought. “Logan,” he finally said.

A smile grew on Virgil’s face. “Well,” he said, sticking out a hand. “It’s nice to actually meet you, Logan.”

“Likewise,” Logan replied, shaking his hand with a smile.

They fell silent after that. It was a slightly awkward silence, but not quite bad enough to stress Virgil out. That or he was just too emotionally exhausted from the events of the last hour or so to register this new stressor.

They spent a good few seconds just staring at each other. Virgil didn’t know why Logan was doing it, but he was personally trying to connect this stranger’s face to the person he knew through emails and a few phone calls. Or at least, the person he thought he knew. He could be completely different in person.

Logan seemed relatively calm given the situation, though his brow was slightly pinched, and he’d tap the table with his fingertips every so often. Yet, beside that slight movement, he was still and steady. It was a contrast to Virgil who couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting in nervousness.

The water for the tea finished boiling finally, and Logan rose from the table.

“You’d prefer peppermint over peach green tea or chamomile if I remember correctly,” Logan said. Was it strange for this practical stranger to know Virgil’s drink preferences? Virgil wondered. They had never exactly sat down and had a cup of tea together, but Virgil did know he’d mentioned drinking peppermint flavored things often enough. Was it weird or sweet that Logan remembered?

“Yeah,” Virgil confirmed.

Logan nodded and plopped a bag of peppermint tea into two of the mugs, a bag of peach into another, and chamomile into the fourth. He must know the tea preferences of his roommates as well. It was sweet, Virgil decided when he plopped the two peppermint teas down on the table and turned to grab the other two mugs. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He walked into the living room with the other two teas and then disappeared down a hallway. Virgil could hear a brief mumbled conversation from deeper in the apartment. Logan returned a couple of minutes later without the mugs.

“That going okay?” Virgil asked cautiously. He didn’t actually know Roman and wasn’t sure if asking was overstepping, but also, he was pretty sure asking was the thing you did in these situations. Logan didn’t seem to think the question was strange at least.

“Roman is resilient to an idiotic degree,” Logan replied, waving off Virgil’s concerns. “He’ll be perfectly fine given some time to absorb the new information and confront his feelings on the matter. He’ll likely be happy once the shock wears off.”

Virgil bit his lip. “Can I ask what happened?” he asked. “Or is that too invasive?”

Logan considered it as he took his seat. “Roman and Remus were separated by a dysfunctional timepiece as far as we can tell,” he answered. “Though Roman didn’t have the timepiece on him when he arrived, and because of this, we’re not exactly sure what the conditions were that caused the dysfunction. Roman was confused and 8, not to mention there was a language barrier when he first arrived. We’ve done our best to piece together what happened over the years and project where his brother could have landed, but between not precisely knowing their time and place of origin or even knowing the baseline conditions of the timepiece used to travel, let alone how it acted while malfunctioning, we haven’t gotten very far.”

He paused for a moment, thinking.

“Well,” he continued. “Perhaps not ‘very far’ is not giving ourselves enough credit all things considered, but still, the goal of our project has always seemed out of reach.”

“The goal of your project,” Virgil repeated. “As in the goal of your time agency?”

“Are we considered an agency?” he asked with an amused note to his tone.

Virgil shrugged. “Probably more like a band of time pirates,” he admitted, “but that’s what you guys have been trying to do? Find Remus?”

“Well,” Logan said. “I do have to admit we often get thrown off course by the TPI. Besides, Patton’s moral compass doesn’t allow him to leave a situation he stumbles upon when he is aware it could cause harm, but yes, that has been the driving force behind our actions.”

That was… honestly not the image Virgil had of them before now, though to be fair, his information had been filtered through what Logan let slip in emails and Janus who was not an unbiased party. “I guess you’ve almost achieved your goal then.”

“Yes,” Logan said with a blink. “I guess we have. We’ll start working on fixing your timepiece and figuring out what caused your crash, so we can get you home soon. For now, we’ll need to figure out sleeping arrangements and clothing considering you’ll be staying here. I do hope you enjoy Asiago cheese bread.”

“I fucking hate it,” Virgil said. “Your roommate is the devil and I despise him on principle.”

Logan sighed but ended up cracking a smile. “This will be interesting.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 5

Folds in Time Universe Master Post

My Main Masterpost

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #analogical #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #mentioned moceit #mentioned janus sanders #mentioned remus sanders #time travel au #folds in time universe #creased hoodies #adriana writes

[the-music-keeper]

A to-do list (mostly) for the train.

I'm not leaving DC tomorrow, but for reasons I won't be coming back to the compound until Sunday. So I need to make sure all my chores and packing are done tonight, but I'm hoping to get lots of homework done on the train.

German

1. Read Chapter 12. (Done!)

2. Translate five sentences from Chapter 12. (These were actual sentences!)

3. Read Chapter 13. (Done!)

4. Chapter 13 translation. (This one is two pages rather than the three pages from last week, thank goodness.)

5. Read Chapter 14. (See notes to Objectives #1 and #3.)

6. Translate five sentences from Chapter 14. (See note to Objective #2.)

Theory

7. The assignment. (Thankfully, the professor emailed us!)

Thesis

8. Keep scrambling for sources. (Well, it's not done, but what I have has been submitted. That's really all I can do for now.)

Doctoral Applications

8. Email the lady from Indiana back. (Since I didn't today.)

9. Follow up with the guy from UT Austin. (He'd offered to send messages of introduction to anyone I wanted to get in contact with, and I think it would be helpful to have the link.)

10. Have a successful meeting with the scholar from UMD. (He seemed interested, but not quite as enthusiastic as the scholar from UT Austin.)

11. Email two professors at JMU to ask about recommendation letters. (I hate that I don't have more people at Catholic to ask.)

12. Track down my advisor to ask for his opinion about writing samples. (I'm hoping maybe I'll be able to get a chapter of my thesis done so I can send that in. Most programs have a limit of thirty pages anyway, so. Also I need to ask him for a rec as well.)

Piano Practice

13. Be prepared for the next rehearsal. (Rehearsal complete.)

Adulting

14. Do dishes. (All done!)

15. Spray the mint spray. (Stuck with the mint spray.)

16. Pack for my trip home this weekend. (I'm going to a wedding!)

17. Prepare my gift for the happy couple. (I'm basically giving them money.)

I knew I was forgetting something!!!

#amy rambles #amy's to do list #german #music theory #thesis #doctoral applications #piano practice #adulting #catholic university of america #cua #musicology #music major #it's already late #i still need to shower #and i really do need to get my chores done tonight #ugggggggggh

[golden-----hour]

5

3/10/23

I feel very proud of myself! Here are the reasons. I just finished my 7:30AM - 12:00PM shift. It was an easy day. I can wake up and go to work. I feel lucky that waking up does not hurt as much as it used to in High School. I was explaining derivatives to an OA and it caught me in a fury of numbers. I found the equation to describe the change of the numbers of fourth power numbers. Which is to say the numbers between 1,16,81, 256 etc. I came up with the equation: 4x^3-6x^2+4x-1 which generates the sequence: 1, 15, 65, 175, 369, 671. I have not done math in a little while so it impressed me that I was able to generate it. I felt useful and intelligent. My coworkers were confused by me and I explained that I don’t like to be bored. It was a lot of fun. Once the caffeine hits my system, I’m gone. I also forwarded the link for submitting an advertisement to the Student Centers for Stephanie from my Bilingual Research Class for her endangered language project workshop. I knew how to find her email. I coordinated with Jenn for Make-a-Wish for next week’s schedule and coordinated with Demi to ensure I can do both next week. I went to the Main Lounge and played piano and talked to Elizabeth and that faculty member about music at the piano. He asked me to play Clair de Lune and I did not mind. Hablé con Elizabeth sobre su hijo y como aprender tocar el piano y quiere que aprenda “Happy Birthday.” I also made a reservation for Mangia Toscano at 7PM so I can get dinner with my friend Sam! I played Rachmaninov. I came to Brower to eat food. Miquel told me he sent the Catalan poem I wrote for him to his mother, who said it was “precious.” Miquel loves the poem I wrote so much that it made him cry. I got my third and final reference for my internship application for the Court Interpreting Internship I am applying for this summer! I asked my interpretation professor from Spain and he agreed and I even emailed him in Catalan! This week, I made a Linked-In and completely revised my resumé. I just need to write a Cover Letter and wait for Liz’s new email for her Philadelphia job. I’m seeing my friend Matt in 45 min, who I met over the summer because he came in to play the piano and I said, “What is your story?” and I showed him my Golden Hour Poetry (before JVKE ruined the phrase) and we reconnected after Spain and yes, everyday I wake up and wonder when Fulbright results are coming out. I have never wanted something so badly in my whole life. I am listening to Arlo Parks and thinking of Ananya and how I am doing everything I have ever dreamed of and I remember so viscerally when I was at Make-a-Wish having just left and evening was a vibrant amber hanging in the pine trees across the parking lot and black silhouettes spread their wings against the radiant firmament (word occurred to me for some reason) and I felt utterly there, like dumbfoundedly there, wildly there. And I knew Vulnera was different and that it ended again, for me, in that moment. I have made it despite the horror I have witnessed getting older. I led a sectional in University Choir and people ask me if I study music and I say I don’t, I just love it. I do Sinfonia with Jay as well and feel proud. When I get the chance, I go to the gym and have good sex with pretty men and I can hold my glorious sadnesses and set them down if I need to and the coffee is sprinting through me and I feel warmly about graduating and I will do everything I need to do to be okay and to not be in vulnera. I am actively trying to invest into my life and my wellbeing and my friends and my existence. I do not deserve vulnera. I am in my name and my story. People value and love me. I can leave a room. I can try to leave a room. I can leave the room 598 times and then try again. Now Black Dog is playing: the E major seventh to A major seventh is being saved. Miquel said to me: T’estime molt molt molt molt molt. 

[alanahleadership]

Week 1

Think of a time when you were in a leadership situation. What was the experience like for you? In my second semester for my Marketing 2 class (in person), I somehow became the leader of my group for our big group project. It wasn’t official, or expressly said, but I was the one making sure everyone was doing their work properly, proofreading everything, stitching them together, delegating tasks, and I was the one everyone came to for answers, help, and direction. This was my most challenging group project yet. There seemed to have been an issue with communication as my group members did not understand what they needed to do or what was expected of them despite my constant reminders and links to samples that were available to us. An example of this was one group member sent me his work for the second part of the project but didn’t include his references. I sent him a text and in that one text I repeated multiple times (probably 5 times in a single text) that he needed to send me his list of references in APA format. After reading that message, he decided to send me a list of links. Just website links. I had to message him again to remind him that it needed to be in APA format. Another group member wrote her whole section on the topic of MY section that I had already informed the group I completed. I messaged her and explained her mistake and tried to explain to her as best as I could what she was supposed to write about, and she emailed me back with essentially the same mistake… just in different words… That took multiple attempts to sort out. So many things happened over the course of that class. I was sick for the first two weeks, so I was not present for the first part of the project. They did not contact me about the project while I was away, and I was unaware of what was going on. They did the first part of the project incorrectly (which resulted in an F, thankfully our professor let us fix and resubmit it), which I had to take into my own hands and fix (that’s how it all started). The second part of the project was very much like what I described above; we had to do a report and I volunteered to stitch all our work together in a Word document. I did this specifically so I wouldn’t have to put together the PowerPoint. We managed to get a very good mark on the report once everyone got their act together. The third part of the project came around and guess who everyone nominated to put together the power point because I “did such a great job on the report”. ME! Somehow, through all of this, I managed to get everyone on track, and we ended up getting a very good mark. Needless to say… my experience was exhausting.

What did you learn from it? I think if I had to take away anything from that experience it would be how to lead difficult groups of people and deal with difficult situations. It is unfortunate, as they were all very nice to me in person and fed me many a delicious snack. But I do think I’m more equipped to deal with difficult groups now. After that experience, I had another group where two of the members did not contact me and my other group member (who was amazing) until the project was hours away from being due. One of them finally returned and got all his work together, the other did not say anything until minutes before we submitted it. In a situation like that, I would have been nervous to be so strict before, but a couple days before the project was due, I really laid down the law and told the two group members that if they did not do their parts, I and my other active group member would not put their names on the project and we would email the professor about their lack of contribution. When one of them contacted us again, I welcomed his efforts with open arms and helped him figure out what he had to do. When the other contacted us before we submitted it and asked for his name to still be on the project, I firmly stood my ground on the matter and stuck to my words. His excuse for not contacting us for weeks was “work”, which was not good enough for us. It's not easy when people you work with don’t put in as much effort or need extra managing. It's even harder when you must be the one to give someone bad news, but sometimes that’s just part of being a leader.

2. Describe your leadership strengths and skills as you currently know them. Where possible, align these with specific examples. Personable/Charismatic: I like to be friendly and encourage relationships with most everyone I meet, and especially people I have to work with. I believe that work is much more enjoyable and goes by faster and easier when you are doing it with people you are comfortable with. Fostering friendships with people, while still being able to go into “business mode” when needed is something I’m very good at. Persistence: When I am made the leader of a project I will not stop until it's done and done to the best of our abilities. I will not completely give up on people unless they’ve let down the group for too long. I will always try to get everyone on track to where we need to be. Open-minded/ Good listener: I truly love listening to new ideas, different thoughts, and opinions from people regarding a project (or anything, really). I certainly don’t think I know everything, and if someone would like to suggest a better way to do something or a new angle, I’m all ears. Fast learner/ improviser: I don’t always know what I’m doing when I somehow become the unofficial leader of a group, but when my group members are even MORE lost than I am I can usually figure things out pretty quickly in order to report back to the group and explain what we need to do (as if I knew the whole time).

What are the leadership strengths, skills or characteristics that you would like to develop? Why? The leadership characteristic I would like to develop is that certain DRIVE for personal goals. A lot of leaders seem to have this hunger for success that won’t allow them to rest until they achieve it. I wish I could somehow become more like that. I become content far too easily.