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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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Hi Kay!

I just wanted to take a moment and say how deeply moving (and overall comforting) I find your writing to be! I've gone through almost the entirety of your masterlist twice in the past month alone and have found myself returning more often to the pieces of literature/poems your reference sometimes. (Especially that one poem by Benedict Smith! I've read a few more by him because of you and they're just wonderfully lovely 💛 so I'm eternally thankful to you for including it.)

I may be wrong in assuming, but I believe you may have studied/are currently studying a degree involving literature. I hope this isn't too foreward of me but I was wandering if you have any other works of literature that you'd recommend? (I'd love to read anything you recommend from poems to plays 💛) I'm slightly embaressed to say but the works I've read are quite limited to a highschool level and since I'm currently studying Pharmacy, there are very few people who can recommend me such moving works. :)

I also feel like I should apologise for writing such a large ask, so please accept this apology as well hehe 💕🥺

Sincerely,

Bek 🌻

Hey there Bek 💚💕✨

First of all... I'm incredibly sorry for how long it took me to reply to this ask, I know you sent it weeks ago and I'm honestly just ashamed of myself for only replying now! I've been taking a bit of a Tumblr break again, or rather a break from literally everything, and I guess not having written anything in a while made me feel guilty whenever I opened Tumblr, so... All I can say for myself really is that I'm sorry you had to wait so long! Again, I never ever ignore anyone, I promise! It just sometimes takes a while for me to reply 😅🙈

Now, I'm so happy to hear that you've been enjoying my writing! 🥺🥰 Hearing that it's comforting and inspiring to you is honestly such a relief and indeed does make me happy more than I can say 💚 It's so cool that you're checking up on all the references I make aaahhh 🥺🥺🥺 I love it 😁 You're always more than welcome, love! I don't think I could stop including references to literature, culture, history and the science around it even if I tried 😅☺️

And yeah, I did study classics and newer literature as a minor for my undergrad degree 😄 But tbh I still work with literally a lot even now (I'm in grad school for media and cultural studies) even though it's technically not something I've been properly taught ☺️ I'm just a nerd who likes to learn on her own, and with media and culture you can pretty much delve into almost anything you want 😂😅🤷🏻‍♀️

Now, it's not forward at all to ask me for literature recommendations! 😁😃 I truly love recommending stuff!!! I have a few up my sleeve, even though you've probably heard of a few already, for obvious reasons: A lot of what I truly enjoyed reading was something Tom Hiddleston has worked on in one way or another! It's truly a magnificent guideline for picking new literature... Just look up the literary origins of his films/shows/plays and you will be in for quality literature most of the time! I don't think I've ever mentioned it on here, but me reading High-Rise (JG Ballard) because I heard Tom would be partaking in the film adaptation was actually what sparked my love and passion for literature!!! Yep, it's that good. Now on to the recommendations though 😁(This... got rather long):

Plays

Anything by Harold Pinter really, but for obvious reasons you'll find a lot of additionally fun stuff for Betrayal, which is lovely and truly funny if you're in on the kind of humour btw

Medea by Euripides (a classic, but I love it nonetheless... You can find translations in almost every language) ((and pls stay away from Seneca's Medea, because ugh... Euripides is far better AND the og story, as much as anyone can say that for Greek mythology)

La Bohème by Puccini (I know, this is technically an opera, but if you read the libretto it's honestly just like a play... And if you're up for it, the og story is in prose and written by Henri Murger... It's better than the opera, but oftentimes more difficult to find) ((this one is hilarious and basically explains an entire cultural subgroup in the 19th century)

Faust by Goethe (many people hate it, but I LOVE this one!!! It's also been translated into any and every language, and it's so interesting philosophically!!! It's also referenced SO freaking often literally everywhere, and the operas and ballets based on it are always my fave) ((there's technically Faust I and Faust II, but you're good to go just reading the first one)

Anything by Shakespeare, obviously... Though I do love me my Hamlet like every other literature enthusiast (Yes, I can do that one famous soliloquy in act 3 scene 1 by heart as well...)

Poetry

Again, anything Shakespeare for the win, but I LOVE the sonnets and keep a copy of them with me most of the time (Yes, I own multiple copies of the sonnets...) ((My faves are 116 and 91, but there's always so much truth to be found in there!!!))

A lot of the stuff William Blake wrote is amazing, though you have to pick carefully with him if certain religious motives aren't your thing... I love The Tyger, which is an individual poem, and the collection of works called Tyger, Tyger which does have many good ones and a few ones that are a little more on the mediocre side

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas (I know this one by heart as well... It's beautiful, and there's a version of Hiddleston reading it on YouTube, which gives you even more goosebumps than the poem does anyway)

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (same for this one, also read by the one and only) ((I love to read this when I'm feeling down or powerless))

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot (This is another wow piece with many quotable lines and truths... I love it a lot and keep coming back to it! It's also a great example of how literary modernism tried to condense the complexity and passing of time and history into a single frame that had to be intrinsically poetical in nature... As in, this poem could've been a short story in any other period, but modernists loved to make everything a poem so here you go)

Der Zauberlehrling by Goethe (This one sucks in all English translations I’ve found, poetically speaking, but in German it’s such a fun piece! If you’ve ever seen the Disney ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ with Mickey Mouse or listened to the orchestral piece by Paul Dukas, then this poem proves very useful in truly understanding either! But again, the English translation should only be taken for informational value... The German one is also worded hilariously)

Prose

Short edited by Alan Ziegler (This is a collection of short prose forms that honestly is a must for me... I love this book to pieces and have had it for years now! It’s an international anthology, so you’ll find more and less famous authors from all around the world represented with short stories, prose poems, short essays and just curious and interesting snippets of writing! I draw a lot of inspiration from this book)

High-Rise by JG Ballard (As mentioned above, I owe this book part of my personality... I don’t think I would be the same person without having read it. It’s not necessarily full of wisdom, but if you’re interested in a different kind of portrayal of the human condition, then this is the read you need to take a look at)

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers (This is another piece that changed my perception of literature, even though this is a more ordinary and ‘fun’-value read... It’s one of my favourite books and it’s endlessly entertaining! So if the classics are a bit heavy for you, this one is perfect for casual readers as well! Its value really does lie more in the realisation of how fun literature can be, and the freedom you have as an author... So really, I could recommend everything by Moers, his style is amazing both in the German original and in the English translation. Yes, I’ve read both.)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (This is comedic gold, stylistic gold and generally a bloody perfect book. Also a ‘fun’-value read, but it also does a magnificent job at showing you what you can do with literature, and how well-developed characters are supposed to be written)

The Penguin Book of the Undead (Penguin Classics) edited by Scott G. Bruce (This book is basically an education on fifteen hundred years of supernatural encounters and how culture wrote, used and perceived them. You get introductory texts for different periods and social groups, explaining how and why ghost stories were written and used, followed by passages of the prime source texts (eg. ancient necromancy shown on The Odyssey). Really, this book is just for cultural history nerds)

The Earthquake in Chile by Kleist (This isn’t necessarily one of my faves, but it has helped me understand what studying literature and culture can do for you. In case anyone remembers my insistence in Wicked Game that you gotta know what a pomegranate symbolises... this novella is such an instance where this knowledge would prove useful. Generally, it gives many opportunities to think about privilege and circumstance)

The Symposium by Plato (You’ll probably not want to read the entire collection of speeches tbh... But the concepts introduced mainly here and in some of Plato’s other work are well worth looking into! For example, the ‘double being’ introduces a concept that in modern fiction is called soulmates... Just sayin’)

#literature #lit rec #recommendation #literature recommendation

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ziamhaze · 3 years

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My Future in Fic

Yeah, so, the 100k fic that I’ve been working on for the past six months? The one that was going to be uploaded to AO3 last week? Yeah, it’s accidentally getting published...

Where do I start?

I suppose with a massive thank you to anyone who’s clicked on any of my fics over these past two years. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I never ever thought about writing as a career. I’ve never written anything prior to my Harry Potter AU Compartment 451. I didn’t even take an English class in undergrad or grad school. I genuinely just had an idea for a fic I wanted to read and since no one had written it, I had to do so myself. Since then, I’ve written every single day for 2 years. I left my job in the entertainment industry, got accepted to one of the best creative writing programs in the world on a scholarship, and now one of my stories is being considered at Harper Collins. Yes, the Harper Collins. It’s the longest shot in the world, but for legal reasons I was not allowed to upload the fic version on any website prior to submission. Even if they don’t pick it up, I’ve been advised to continue to shop it around to agents.

What I can do, however, is share the premise.

If you’ve been following my tumblr and watching my tags - I SEE YOU ALL OUT THERE - then you’ll know that this fic was meant to have Zayn with his signature undercut hairstyle and one more little thing...

Someone sent me an ask a while back about what this fic was supposed to be about. I believe I said something about it being an adaptation fic, but not from a film/tv show/other piece of literature, from a song. This next fic was meant to be an adaptation of the song Younger by Ruel. Later on, it also took shape with the help of Remember by Liam and a few others that you can find here.

The miniature summary is as follows:

When his father suddenly passes, twenty-nine-year-old Liam Payne is brought back to the Sydney suburbs where he grew up. He doesn’t plan on seeing his childhood best friend, Zayn Malik, at the burial service. They haven’t spoken since going from brothers to strangers one fateful day fifteen years prior. But Zayn puts an end to this when he approaches Liam after the burial, offering his condolences and asking if Liam can help his archaeological research team with photographing their newest project. The unexpected closeness forces each man to wade through uneasy emotions. For Liam, a mixture of grief, lost identity, and confusion over why he’s willing to interact with the one person he swore he’d never forgive. And for Zayn, a tidal wave of anxiety that comes from finally facing a part of himself he’s always chosen to deny. When We Were Younger is a story heavily rooted in blurred identities and exploring what loss can look like in two different scenarios: death and friendship.

For obvious reasons, their names will be changed. Liam, to Hutton. Zayn, to Cairo (his ethnicity will also be changed to Egyptian). As you can see, it was meant to be my big ‘enemies to lovers’ fic. Technically, it’s ‘best friends to enemies to lovers’, but you know.

Right, so what does this mean for me going forward?

I still have so much inspiration when it comes to writing Zayn and Liam as characters. I don’t plan on putting a complete stop to writing them, but with my career taking this large of a turn, I do have to prioritise my time. That said, as of now, I can’t afford to write long-form fic any longer.

Soon, I’ll be starting a PhD program where I’ll be writing another full-length novel for mass publication. For fun, here’s a little insight on the two ideas that I’ll be pitching:

1. Underground boxer (loosely based off Liam) falls in love with arms gang leader (loosely based off Zayn). Throughout their love story, the latter has to outrun the psychological trauma his father (the leader of Zayn’s rival gang) still throws his way.

2. Cold War AU. Paris, circa 1950/51. Ambassador’s son (loosely based off Liam) befriends new student (loosely based off Zayn) at the international school. Paris is a ticking time bomb; war is about to break out at literally any second. The two clearly have feelings for each other, but can’t act on them because homosexuality in the 1950s...yikes. When war does break out, the two are separated, and as Liam’s character goes out to find Zayn’s, he learns a secret of his that changes everything.

Whichever I don’t write for the PhD will be the novel I write following it.

In the meantime, I’m going to continue to write (and edit) like crazy. Ever since I randomly wrote C451, there hasn't been a day that’s gone by where I haven't written something. It may have only been a paragraph or two, but never zero. This is how you get better. This is the equivalent of going out and shooting free throws for 30 minutes a day. You have to put in the work in order to get better. I'm very lucky that I'm incredibly self-disciplined and I've been able to crank out as many stories as I have over the past 2 years.

That said, I’ll be writing shorter little oneshots. I have several ideas that I’ve been sitting on, but haven’t ever thought to write because I HATE writing short stories. Little ideas that don't have huge plotline/climax potential, but that I want to just see on paper, I'll probably end up writing. If I had to guess, I'd say they'll come out to around 10-15k. Also, sequels? Prequels? Haha, you never know...

I’ve also got a series called “Sleep Drabbles” that are, yes, you guessed it, a series of drabbles based around one theme: sleep. I also have a few scenes that I want to write which are based on ziam’s kids, not actually ziam themselves. If there’s enough demand for that, I can upload those too, but they’re quite niche, so I don’t think the general fandom would be very interested.

As far as frequency for all of this, I have no idea. I’ve always done things at my own pace and written stories that I want to write, for myself. That won’t ever change, so I don’t want to commit to one drabble a week or one short-length fic per month. It takes me weeks (months for this last fic) to research and interview the necessary people to get character arcs correct/believable. I love that part of writing, and so if I have a little story that I want to write that may only be 10k but takes me ages to put together how I want, then so be it. I will always be around to answer asks/messages and please, continue to tag me in your writing tag posts! But please, no prompts.

So, that’s my future with fic.

Again, I cannot say thank you enough to every single one of you. Every single thing that people tag me in (@malik-payne , @zqua1d , @zentiment , @liamisthesun , @redyellowberry I’m looking at you), I appreciate and love! The recommendation lists that people have put me on, THANK YOU! It’s wild to think that I used to look to rec lists for years and now I’m on them. @ziamfanfiction THANK YOU for always having my back with exposure! @paynefulperiods , my beloved beta reader, THANK YOU for always encouraging me and putting up with shit first drafts. @march-z5 , THANK YOU for always being on call for ideas and listening to me bang my head against the wall at 4 am.

Now, might fuck around and make a fake picspam for the fic that never was...

Also, all of the behind scenes pages for each of my fics are now public, so feel free to check those out here.

I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for making this journey possible. I know people say that a lot when they gain a following of any sort, but I truly truly mean it. You have to have talent in order to be an author, but you also have to have people who want to read your stuff. Proof of concept is a real thing.

So thank you a million times over.

Speak soon my friends.

#ziamhaze #my writing #ziam #ziam fanfic #ziam fanfiction #not sure what to tag this #also gonna be reblogging for a while bc I know people are going to be curious about where the next fic is and won't have seen this

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janicho88 · 3 years

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Falling For You -Part 2

October

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female!Reader, Dean x Lisa(past), Female!Reader x OMC Justin(past)

Word Count-4008

Warning- Mentions of cheating, little angst, some swearing, fluff. This is going to be a bit of a slow burn. Haunted woods. Talk of trying to fake a pregnancy, manipulation, trying to steal from significant other/ falsify documents, Lisa is awful, Justin isn’t much better, talk of being pressured into doing things you don’t want to. I think that is it

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. This story is AU, and un beta’d.

Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door. Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to.

Series Masterlist

The next week kept you busy at work and not giving you much free time in the evening. Coming or going you always kept an eye out for your new friend though, not seeing him again till the weekend. Heading back to your apartment after your Saturday morning workout you ran into Dean coming out of his brother’s apartment.

“Hi stranger, how is everything coming together for you?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s coming. I found a job, starting a week from Monday. Still looking for a place though, guess I’ll be crashing with Sam a little longer and putting my stuff in storage up here till I find something. Work slow down for you yet?”

“Congrats on the new job! No, not yet. A family emergency came up, and our new person can’t start till next week. At least there is a light at the end though. I hate to run on you, but I’m supposed to be meeting Meg, and I really need a shower. Talk to you later?”

“Sure, see ya around.”

With the wedding dress found it was time to find Bridesmaid dresses. Hopefully this went a little better. Her wedding colors were red, black and silver, you would be happier with a black dress, but Meg was thinking red. The color of fire, this wedding was going to be hot she said.

Thankfully you and the 2 bridesmaids Ruby and Sarah were on the same page about finding one and getting done. None of you wanted to try on tons of dresses. Meg actually approving of the third one you found. They were free to leave after that, you got to go help her set up a gift registry. Your fingers were crossed these next six months until the April wedding went fairly quick. Done for the day, she suggested meeting up with Cas and his best man so you could finally meet him.

The guys were meeting you at a local pizza shop so you could grab dinner and talk. Walking in with Meg you quickly saw Cas, and getting closer to the table, recognized the spiky sandy brown haired man across from him. Sliding in next to Dean you mentioned how he never said anything about being the best man, when you said you were the maid of honor.

“Sorry, I think my head was still on other topics then.” He answered you with a small smile

“Wait, you two already know each other?” Cas questioned looking between you both.

“Yeah, I live across the hall from his brother, remember Cas?”

“I do now.”

“No one ever told me that you and Sam knew each other from Kansas though.”

“I guess we didn’t think about it.”

It was an enjoyable evening out with your friends. You found out more about Dean’s new job, he found a small auto shop hiring a head mechanic. The owner, Bobby, had done most of the work himself but was looking to cut back and possibly retire in a few years. If Dean was still around then and interested he might sell the shop to him. There was a part time mechanic working there also, Benny. Dean seemed to think they would get along well.

Dean gave you a ride back so Meg could take Cas with her since they lived in the opposite direction as you two. “I don’t think I told you last week, but I really like your car.”

“Thanks, Baby is my one true girl.”

“Baby?”

Patting the top of the dash Dean glanced over and smiled at you, “That’s her name.”

You just smiled back, “It’s very nice Dean, I hope the two of you will be very happy together.

Closer to home Dean told you he was renting a car and leaving for Kansas tomorrow. He would turn the car in there and drive a Uhaul back with Sam the following weekend. Apparently his brother wasn’t the best driver and he didn’t trust him to drive that far with his car or the uhaul filled with his belongings. Sam was flying home later in the week to meet up with him. Giving him a quick hug outside your apartment door you wished him safe travels and good luck, telling him you would see him when he got back.

Quickly entering your apartment and shutting the door, you were trying to figure out why you hugged him, and why you suddenly were overthinking it. You were friends, friends hugged right? No reason to give it a second thought.

Friday night there was a knock on your door, but you weren’t expecting anyone. Opening it you were surprised to find Jess on the other side with a pizza box and a bottle of wine.

“Hey, I thought I’d see if you were up for some company. Sam and Dean started the drive back this afternoon, so it’s just me over there.”

“Sure! Come on in.” The two of you spent the evening watching bad romance moves and talking about the brothers. Jess had known Sam since they were in undergrad at Stanford, and had a few stories to tell you about both of them. It was nice to learn a little more about Dean.

When Jess had more wine in her she opened up about Dean’s breakup. “I met the cheating bitch a few times and never cared for her. She thought she was better than everyone, always pushing Dean to buy her things, jewelry and fancy clothes. Apparently she started asking Dean some questions that he thought were weird but told himself she must have been taking an interest in things he liked for once.”

She paused to take a drink of wine. “When Dean was packing up after he kicked her out he discovered some stuff in his safe had been moved around, insurance papers, information on stocks he owns, and even his will was in a new place. I guess he didn’t think much of it; he was too caught up in the cheating mess, till a lawyer's office called the house like a week later and left a message saying they needed to come in and sign the last paper. Lisa had either made a copy of his signature or forged it and was trying to put things in her name and change his will for her to inherit even if they weren’t married. He called Sam because he needed legal help to straighten the mess up and make sure she got nothing.

Sam went down one weekend and helped him clean it up. They were looking up something on Dean’s laptop and one of them typed in a wrong word or start of one and some crazy past searches came up. They looked for more and found searches relating to Dean and what he owns, what his business was worth. There was even a search on how to fake a pregnancy test. Sam thinks she was going to try and trick Dean into marrying her if she couldn’t change the papers on her own. She was stupid enough to use Dean’s computer. His parents don’t know, he doesn’t want them too.”

“The first night I met Dean I called him by his last name and he asked something about how I knew and if I looked him up. I get why now.”

“Dean’s a lot more guarded now.” She gave you a lot of information to take in, no wonder he wasn’t looking to date again.

The next afternoon a commotion in the hall drew your attention. Opening the door you found Sam and Dean struggling with some boxes they were both carrying across the hall. You asked if they needed help, but neither heard you over Sam complaining about Dean not knowing how to pack a box. Dean was in turn instructing Sam to be careful with the valuables. Seeing you just before he turned inside Dean gave you a wink and said he would talk to you later.

A few hours later a knock at the door had you hoping for a green eyed man on the other side. Opening it you had gotten your wish. “Hey, I was heading out to grab some dinner. Give Sam and Jess some time together, thought I’d see if you wanted to join me?”

“I actually have lasagna in the oven, it should be done in 20. Would you like to join me here?”

Dean’s eyes lit up at the thought of a homemade meal and he readily accepted. Entering your apartment he removed his coat and asked if he could help with anything. Handing him the drink he asked for, you told him everything was all set. Salad was made and the pasta and bread were in the oven. You washed some dishes while waiting and Dean grabbed a towel to help dry. The two of you working together easily and talking about Dean’s trip back to Kansas. When dinner was ready you dished it up setting Dean’s infront of him. You noticed he wasn’t a big fan of the salad though.

“This is great, my mom isn’t much of a cook so it’s simple meals or take out at their house. Sam and Jess cook, but it’s not real food. He gets these plant or veggie burgers, kale and some green shakes. I need real meat and carbs.”

“Well, you are welcome to stop over here when it gets to be too much. I’m sure I could find something that would save you.”

“Thanks sweetheart, I may take you up on that.”

When you were both finished and everything was cleaned you invited Dean to stay and watch a movie. It was to give Sam and Jess more time alone you told yourself. Dean was just a friend, you were hanging out with.

A short time later your oven timer went off again and you disappeared to pull out the desert you had made. Grabbing some ice cream from the freezer and cutting into the hot treat you once again plated it up and took some to Dean warning him it was still hot. You didn’t think Dean’s eyes could go any bigger than they did when you handed him the fresh baked apple pie. Taking a giant bite his eyes almost rolled back in his head.

“This is incredible, one of the best I’ve ever had. Trust me I’ve had a lot of pie.”

“I’m sure it’s not really that special, but thanks anyways.”

“No, I’m serious. Love me some apple.”

“Fall is a good time for apples here. I would love to go to the orchard some time and pick my own, or even just hang out there one day. I’ve gone a few times as a kid, but I haven’t been in years.”

“You just want to go hang out with apple trees?”

“Not exactly, there is a lot to do this time of year. Apple picking, pumpkin patches, corn maze, hayrides and a store where they sell baked goods, fresh produce and other things. I just think it would be fun sometime. Maybe next year, I’ll find someone to go with me.”

“Tell you what, you pick a weekend next year and I’ll go with you. Speaking of weekends, do you have anything going on next Saturday?”

“Um, a baby shower for a friend in the early afternoon. Then catching up on some work around here, why?”

“One of Jess’ friends is having a big Halloween party, she invited me in hopes of getting Sam to lighten up about it. He’s not a fan of Halloween. Anyway she said I could bring a friend if you want to go. It’s a costume party in some old barn.”

You thought about it for a minute. Was he asking you out, neither of you were supposed to be looking to date right now. He did say bring a friend though. “I think I can manage that, I’ll have to see if I have a costume.”

“Great! I think she said it starts at 8, there’s supposed to be some haunted woods too. Not a corn maze, but it can still be fun. I’ll let you know what time she wants to leave, you don’t care if we ride together right?”

“Nope, not at all.” At least if you were with his brother and Jess it wasn’t a date. Why were you so worried anyway? Dean left a short time later and you cleaned up and got ready for bed.

The new girl you were training, Anna was finally starting to catch on in her second week. This meant you were able to get more of your work done, and not have to stay too late. You needed to find a costume and a baby gift sometime before Saturday. Running into Jess in the hall one night, you asked if you needed to bring anything Saturday. There wasn’t anything, and she was just happy that you were joining them.

Since you had just over a week until Halloween many of the costumes were already picked over, you weren’t looking to meet up with anyone so you were also trying to avoid anything too revealing. Plus it was outside in the evening, and temps were falling so you didn’t want to freeze either. Finally finding something you deemed would work at the third store you tried.

Saturday came faster than you had hoped. The shower went well, Kelly was so excited to meet her little boy in a few short months. You couldn’t wait to spoil him! Doing a quick grocery store run, you headed home to try and clean a little before you had to get ready. When 7:30 rolled around you were ready for the knock on your door.

Opening the door you bit back a laugh at the sight before you, “Howdy Sheriff.”

Dean shook his head sending you a fake smile, “This was one of the few adult costumes left.”

“That’s what you get for waiting till yesterday to get your outfit Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes, also trying not to laugh at his brother’s attire. He and Jess were dressed as Sandy and Danny from Greece.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I had this awesome Batman costume, but it’s in one of the boxes in storage and couldn't find it. Oh well, cowboys are awesome too.”

“Yeah, but Dean you're a toy cowboy,” Sam wasn’t able to hide the smile that time.

He sent Sam a glare before turning back to you, “I’m still a cowboy and a sheriff, I can still protect the princess here. All ready?”

“Yep, I’m good to go.”

You rode in the back with Jess, Dean pouting up front because Sam decided to take his own car instead of riding in Dean’s. Jess was telling you Sam didn’t want to dress up at all, but she was able to talk him into Danny since it was his own clothes except for the leather jacket and just some hair dye and gel.

Arriving at Jess’ friends you and Dean followed behind as they led the way to the barn. They had definitely put a lot of work into the decorations. There were pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns everywhere. Some real, some plastic and other scary Halloween creatures along with orange lights strung all around.

There was a dance floor with the DJ already playing and round tables and chairs set up around the floor and a buffet in the back.

You had never been to a Halloween party this big before. Jess introduced you and Dean to some of her friends who Sam already knew. Dean grabbed the two of you drinks and you sat down at a table taking everything in. This was a little more than you were expecting.

Sam found you a short time later, Jess was ready to go through the haunted woods they had set up and wanted to know if you two wanted to join.

“I’m game. How about you, Y/N? Sheriff Dean will protect you.”

“Who can turn that down?” Scary things weren’t your favorite, but you had a feeling if you said no Dean wouldn’t have gone either and you didn’t want him to miss out. Justin had hated how some things would scare you, and you wouldn’t want to do something. According to him you would ruin his fun, you weren’t going to do that to Dean. If you were with the three of them it shouldn’t be too bad.

Wrong, wrong, oh so wrong! You were going to have nightmares for a month after that. Most of the actors scaring you had come from the front or side, so you had ended up in the back hiding behind Dean to avoid everyone. Jess had turned around to say something to you when you noticed her eyes getting bigger. Quickly turning around you were certain they could have heard your scream in Ohio. There was a creepy looking person behind you wearing a mask with a white face, green teeth and red eyes holding a giant knife above your head. You never heard him come up or had any idea he was following you.

Hearing you scream Dean turned and pulled you close to his chest and then turned the two of you back around so you were no longer facing that character. He kept you close until you were out of the woods. When you went back to the barn he took you over to your seat before grabbing you some water. Kneeling down in front of you, his green eyes carefully looking you over.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“You want to try that again? Especially since you are still shaking?

“I’m really sorry. I’m not the biggest fan of scary things. That really caught me off guard.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone else. I’ll be fine, really.”

“Sweetheart, we need to work on your communication skills. First that bar, now this. If something is going to affect you like this, you gotta say something.”

“I’m okay, really. Sorry to ruin it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Sit here a minute I’ll be back.” Dean walked off coming back a few minutes later with some food for both of you.

Sitting next to Dean you stared at the plate he put in front of you before talking.

“Justin took me to Cedar Point one day with some friends of his, all other couples. I’m terrified of heights and dropping too, he knew this beforehand. I’m more of a spin me girl, as long as it’s not too far off the ground. They were all excited about going on the biggest coaster there, I told them I would watch everyone’s stuff while they went. This one takes your picture on the way down, one of the girls said if I wasn’t there some stranger would be in the picture with all of them. Justin took me aside and said when I don’t participate in these things it makes him look bad and ruins his good time. I should be a better girlfriend and do what he wants.”

“I would really like to introduce your ex to my fist. If something is bothering you, I really want you to speak up, no matter what, okay.”

“Okay, thanks Dean.”

When Sam and Jess caught back up to you, she pulled you out to the dance floor with her since her fiancé wasn’t interested. The guys watched as the two of you enjoyed yourselves.

Arriving back at your apartment that night, Dean followed you in to make sure you were going to be alright. You assured him you would be fine. What you didn’t tell him was you were going to be sleeping with the lights on tonight. He did a quick check of your apartment before going back across the hall.

Halloween was the following Friday, Meg invited you over to her and Cas’ place to hang out while they handed out candy to the trick or treaters. Cas had also invited Dean, Sam and Jess. He must have told Dean you were coming because Dean offered to drive you over with them.

The phone in your pocket started going off snapping you out of your daydreams, “Hello.”

“Hey Y/N, are you still home?”

“Yeah, why what’s up Dean?”

“I’ve been knocking on your door for a few minutes now, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” looking down you saw the time on your watch. “I’m sorry I lost track of time. I was sitting on the patio and didn’t hear you.” Rushing inside you locked the door behind you before quickly letting Dean in.

“Sorry, let me grab these and I’m good to go.” Grabbing your Halloween sweatshirt and the two containers sitting on your counter you were headed back to the door.

“What’s in there?”

“Oh I got bored last night and made some Halloween sugar cookies and pumpkin cake bars with apple cider glaze for today.”

Dean just looked at you as you rode the elevator down to meet Sam and Jess, “What is that look for?”

“Well, are you going to give me one?” You were a little lost and just stared back. “Oh sorry, forgot the magic words, trick or treat. May I have my treat now?” He asked, pointing to the containers.

“Oh sorry, sure, the bars are a little crumbly, but you can have a cookie now.

He took a big bite of the orange pumpkin shaped cookie. “It’s not your apple pie, but it’s very good, sweetheart.”

The guys disappeared into the basement when you arrived, apparently there was some horror movie marathon on, you were just fine avoiding that. You three ladies hung out in the living room so you would hear kids coming to the door, and watched the Halloweentown movies on TV. Meg and Jess compared wedding notes and talked about their different frustrations. Jess and Sam were getting married in July.

You were happy for your friends, but if you were being honest, also a little jealous. They had found great guys, been with them for years, now they were getting ready to walk down the aisle to them. You had thought by the time you were 27 you would be settling down too. Instead you were swearing off dating right now. Your Mr Right seems to have taken some wrong turns somewhere and wouldn’t ask for directions. Apparently you zoned out from the conversation because both girls were looking at you. “Sorry, what’s up?”

“I was saying I’m not sure I would be cut out for the matron of honor duties when you get married. We all know I don’t have the patience. You could have Jess, and we know Sam would be the best man, it would work out great.”

Yep, you definitely missed something. “Wait, when and who am I marrying, and why is Sam already the best man?”

“Really Y/N?” Meg giving you her best bitch face, “when you and Dean get married.”

“You guys make such a great couple! I’m so glad he found you! Lisa was just awful to him from the start, and to cheat on him like that.”

Lisa must be the reason he left Kansas, no one mentioned her name before. “Guys we’re just friends, we aren’t a couple or even dating. Neither one of us want to get back out there right now.”

“Y/N, you can’t let Justin ruin your chance at happiness, it’s been over four months now. At some point you need to get back out there. Deano is one of the good ones, you are going to regret it if you let him go.”

“Meg, Dean doesn’t want to date anyone either. We really are just friends, just hanging out.”

When you walked away to hand out candy, Meg turned to Jess, “any idea how long those two are going to stay in denial about how they feel?” Jess just shook her head as they both stared after you.

Part 3

Thank you for reading!

Tags- @talesmaniac89 @katehuntington @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @emoryhemsworth @anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14 @superfanficnatural @jensengirl83 @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278 @fantasydevil2002

Falling For You tags- @halesandy @abuavnee @hearteyes-j2 @vicmc624 @440mxs-wife @wonder-cole

#dean x female reader #dean winchester #supernatural #FallingForYou #dean x reader

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forestwater87 · 3 years

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How did you become a university Librarian? Did you do an English degree? Sorry if this is a weird question it just really interests me as I’m not sure what to do when I’m older

Eeee I got really excited about this question!

Okay, the fun thing about librarianship is that all roads can lead to it: as long as you get an ALA-approved (assuming you’re American; if you aren’t I cannot help you) graduate degree you can do just about anything for undergrad. English majors are extremely common, just by the nature of who’s into the job, but literally it doesn’t matter; in fact, weirder and more specialized degrees can actually help in certain jobs, because they give you a ton of background info and qualifications than most of your contemporaries have.

I fell into it because I worked at a library in high school and fell in love with the environment, and when I realized I’d rather die than work in publishing (my previous life’s goal) I gravitated toward library school. I knew from the beginning that I’d need a Master’s -- and a very specific one at that -- so mostly my undergrad was just “grab a foundational degree and have fun with it.” That was really freeing, honestly. I had a ton of fun in undergrad.

Now, if you, Anon, were interested in getting into librarianship I’d have a handful of recommendations. These are all based on my very American experience, and there are probably smarter people than me with better advice but I’m the only one on this blog so heeeeerrreeeee we goooooooooo!

Undergrad

You need a 4-year degree. Full-stop. It doesn’t matter what kind, but you gotta have one to get into grad school.

Like I said, you can do just about anything for an undergraduate degree. Most of the time English is the BA of choice, because librarians love them some books, but some far less common ones that I think would be hugely helpful to a hopeful librarian would be:

Computer Science: Oh my god you need at least a baseline competency in computers/technology please you don’t have to code but you need to be able to turn a computer on and navigate just about any website/office application on just about any device at the very least you need to know how to Google

Business/Marketing: Particularly if you want to work in public libraries, where a bunch of your funding comes from begging politicians and convincing taxpayers to donate/vote to give you money

Law: If you want to be a law librarian

Medical . . . whatever, I don’t know what fields of medicine there are: If you want to work in a hospital or other medical library

History or Art History: If you’re interested in archives or museum librarianship

Education: School librarians in my state require you to be a certified teacher, and no matter what kind of library you end up in, you’ll end up teaching someone something a decent amount of the time

Communications: You’ll be doing a lot of it. Public speaking, too

Spanish/ASL/any not-the-common language: Hey, you never know what your patrons speak

Literally fucking anything I promise it doesn’t matter what you major in you will use it in a library at some point

Just be aware that you will need more than an undergrad degree. You’ll need probably 2 years of postsecondary schooling (more for certain types of librarianship), so get yourself comfortable with the idea of college.

If you’re like me (please don’t be like me), you might toy with the idea of getting a minor or two/double majoring to round out your skill set. Honestly I’d encourage it if you’re comfortable with the workload and have the time or money; like I said, there are no skills or educational background that won’t come in handy at some point. I promise. We see it all.

Along those lines, a wide expanse of hobbies can be hugely helpful too! You never know when your encyclopedic knowledge of Minecraft will be useful to a patron, but it absolutely will be.

Graduate School

All right, you’ve got your lovely little Bachelor’s Degree, maybe in something weird and esoteric for the fun of it . . . now you’re off to do more school!

It’s a bit complicated, because there are a handful of different titles an appropriate degree could have; my school called it “a Master of Science in Information Science” (MSIS), but other schools might just go with “Master’s of Information Science” (MIS), “Master’s of Library Science” (MLS), “Master’s of Library and Information Science” (MLIS) . . . it’s a mess.

What you need to do is make sure the degree is approved by the American Library Association, who decides if a program is good enough to make you a librarian in the States. (Again, if you’re not American, good luck.)

Here’s a list of ALA-accredited programs and the schools that offer them.

The nice thing is accreditation has to be renewed at least every few years, so that means your program is always updated to make sure it’s in line with national standards. I’m not promising you’ll learn everything you need to be a librarian in grad school (oh my god you so won’t not even close hahahaha), but at least in theory you’ll be learning the most up-to-date information and methods.

(I’m curious to see how things have changed; when I was in school from 2015-17, the hot topics in library science were makerspaces (especially 3D printing), turning the library into the community’s “third space,” and learning how to incorporate video games into library cataloging and programming. No idea if those are still the main hot-button issues or if we’ve moved on to something else; I imagine information literacy and fake news are a pretty big one for current library students.)

Anyway! You pick a school, you might have to take a test or two to get in -- I had to take the GRE, which is like the SATs but longer -- almost certainly have to do all that annoying stuff like references and cover letters and all that, but assuming you’re in: now what?

There are a couple options depending on the school and the program, but I’m going to base my discussion around the way my school organized their program at the time, because that’s what I know dammit and I will share my outdated information because I want to.

My school broke the degree down into 5 specializations, which you chose upon application to the program:

Archives & Records Administration: For working in archives! I took some classes here when I was flirting with the idea, and it’s a lot of book preservation, organizing and caring for old documents and non-book media, and digitization. Dovetails nicely into museum work. It’s a very specific skillset, which means there will be jobs that absolutely need what you specifically can do but also means there aren’t as many of them. It makes you whatever the opposite of a “jack of all trades” is. You’re likely to be pretty isolated, so if you want to spend all your time with books this might be a good call; it’s actually one of the few library-related options that doesn’t require a significant amount of public-facing work.

Library & Information Services: For preparation to work in public or academic (college) libraries. Lots of focus on reference services, some cataloging, and general interacting-with-the-public. You have to like people to go into library services in general, heads up.

Information Management & Technology: Essentially meaningless, but you could in theory work as like a business consultant or otherwise do information-related things with corporations or other organizations.

Information Storage & Retrieval: Data analytics, database . . . stuff. I don’t really know. Computers or something. Numbers 3 and 4 really have nothing to do with libraries, but our school was attempting to branch out into more tech-friendly directions. That being said, both this and #3 could definitely be useful in a library! Libraries have a lot of tech, and in some ways business acumen could be helpful. All roads lead to libraries; remember that.

Library & Information Services / School Library Media Specialist: This was the big kahuna. To be a school librarian -- at least in my state -- you need to be both a certified librarian and a certified teacher, which means Master’s degrees in both fields. What our school did was basically smushed them together into a combined degree; you took a slightly expanded, insanely rigorous 2-2.5 years (instead of the traditional 1.5-2) and you came out of it with two degrees and two certifications, ready to throw your butt into an elementary, middle/junior high, or high school library. Lots of focus on education. I started here before realizing I don’t like kids at all, then panicked and left. Back in 2017 this was the best one for job security, because our state had just passed a law requiring all school librarians to be certified with a MSIS/MLS/whatever degree. So lots of people already in school libraries were desperately flinging themselves at this program, and every school was looking for someone that was qualified. No idea if that’s changed in time.

No matter what concentration you went in with, you automatically graduated with a state certification to be a librarian, which was neat. You didn’t automatically get civil service status, though; for some public libraries you need to be put on a civil service list, which means . . . something, I’m not entirely sure. It involves taking exams that are only available at certain times of the year and I gave up on it because it looked hard.

No one did more than 1 concentration, which is dumb because I wanted to do them all, but it takes a lot of time and money to take all the classes associated with all of them so I personally did #2, which was on the upper end of mid-tier popularity. School library and database services were far and away the most popular, and literally no one did the business one because it was basically useless, so library and archives were the middle children of which the library one was prettier.

THAT BEING SAID! Some forms of librarianship require a lot more education. A few of those are:

Law librarians: At least in my state, you gotta be a certified librarian and have a J.D. This is where the “big bucks” are -- though let’s be real, if you want to be a librarian you have zero interest in big bucks; reconcile yourself to being solidly middle-class and living paycheck-to-paycheck for the rest of your life or marrying rich -- which I guess is why it requires the most work.

School librarians: Like I mentioned, depending on the state you might need two degrees, and not all schools smush them into one. You might need to get a separate Master’s in education.

College librarians: Now, this depends on the college and the job; some colleges just need an all-access librarian, like mine. I didn’t need to specialize in anything, I just showed up with my degree and they took me. (Note: these sorts of entry-level positions tend to pay piss. Like, even more piss than most library gigs. Just a heads-up.) However, if you’re looking to get into a library of a higher-end university, you might be asked to have a second Master’s-level or higher degree just to prove you’re academic enough to party at their school. (Let’s be real, Harvard is almost certainly gonna want someone with a Ph.D. at the very least. That’s just how they roll.) Alternatively, the position might be for a specialty librarian, someone in charge of a field-specific library or field-specific reference services; if you’re being asked to head up the Science & Engineering Library at Masshole University, it’s reasonable to expect that you’ll be bringing a degree in engineering or some sort of science to the table. Colleges have so many different needs that predicting what kind of experience/education you should get is a bit of a challenge. Good luck. Some schools will help you out a bit with this; my grad school had dual degree programs where you could share credits between the MSIS and either an English or History Master’s so you could graduate with both in less time. I . . . started this, and then panicked at the thought of more school/writing a thesis and bailed, but it’s great if you’re into that idea!

What’s the point of the Information/Library Science degree?

You have to have the degree. If you don’t have the degree, you don’t get the job and you don’t make-a the money. Resign yourself to getting a Master’s degree or you’re gonna be bummed out and unemployed.

In terms of what you learn? Well, obviously it depends on the program, but I found that a lot of what I learned was only theoretically related to what I do on a daily basis. My instructors were lovely (well, the adjuncts anyway; the full-timers really didn’t want to be there and wanted to be off doing research and shit), but every library is so idiosyncratic and there’s such a massive umbrella of jobs you could get in one -- god, I didn’t even get into things like metadata services, which I learned basically nothing about in grad school but are super important to some positions -- that it’s hard to learn anything practical in a classroom.

However, besides the piece of paper that lets you make-a the money, there are two important things you should get from your grad school education:

Research skills: My god, you’re going to be doing so much research. If you’re a public librarian, you need to know how to Google just about anything. And if you’re a college librarian, being able to navigate a library database and find, evaluate, and cite sources . . . I mean, you’re going to be doing so much of that, showing students how to do that. Like a ridiculous amount of my day is showing students how to find articles in the virtual library. Get good at finding things, because much like Hufflepuffs, librarians need to be great finders.

Internship(s): Just about every library program will require an internship -- usually but not always in replacement of a thesis -- and if the one you’re looking at doesn’t, dump it like James Marsden in a romantic comedy. Internships are hugely important not only because they look good on a resume and give you some of those delicious, delicious references, but they are a snapshot of what your job is going to look like on a day-in, day-out basis; if nothing else, you’ll learn really fast what does and doesn’t appeal to you. As I mentioned, I wanted to be a school librarian for about half a semester. You know what changed my mind? My class required like 40 hours of interning at schools of each level. Being plopped into that environment like a play you’re suddenly acting in? Super helpful in determining whether or not this shit is for you.

What else should I learn, then?

Besides how to research basically anything? Here are some useful skills in just about any library:

Copyright law. Holy shit, do yourself a favor and learn about publishing/distribution laws in your state. Do you wanna show a movie as a fun program? You need to buy a license and follow super specific rules or it’s illegal! Does an instructor want to make copies of their textbook to give to the students? Make sure you know how much they can copy before it’s no longer fair use! Everything in my life would be easier if I’d taken the time to learn anything about copyright. I did not, and now I’m sad. (I lost out on a job opportunity because they wanted the librarian to be particularly knowledgeable in that kinda thing, and I was very not.)

Metadata and cataloging. In theory, you should learn this in grad school, but I was only given the bare basics and it wasn’t enough. Dublin Core, MARC-21, RDF -- there are so many different kinds of metadata schema, and I took a 6-week class in this and still don’t understand any of the words I just used in this sentence. But basically, to add items to a library catalog you often need to know how to input them into your library’s system; to an extent that’ll be idiosyncratic to your library’s software, but some of it will be based on a larger cataloging framework, so familiarity with those is very useful.

Public speaking and education. You’re gonna do a lot of it. Learn how to deal.

General tech savviness. Again, we’re not talking about coding but if you can navigate a WordPress website? If you know how to troubleshoot just about any issue with Microsoft Word, PowerPoint, etc.? If you can unjam printers and install software and use social media you’re going to be a much happier person. At the very least, know how to google tutorials and fake your way through; your IT person can only do so much, and a lot of it is probably going to fall on you.

Social work, diplomacy, general human relations kinda stuff. You’re going to be dealing with all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds, with every political view, personal problem, and life experience under the sun. You need to get very good at being respectful of diversity -- even diversity you don’t like* -- and besides separating your own personal views and biases from your work, you’ll be much better equipped to roll with the punches if you have, for example, conflict resolution training. Shit’s gonna get weird sometimes, I promise. (Once a student came in swinging around butterfly knives and making ninja noises. You know who knew how to deal with that? Not me!)

Standard English writing and mechanics. It’s not fair, but in general librarians are expected to have a competent grasp on the Standard English dialect, and others are less likely to be appreciated by the general populace. Obviously this differs based on your community and environment, and colloquialisms are sometimes useful or even necessary, but as a rule of thumb it’s a good call to be able to write “properly,” even if that concept is imperialist bullshit.

*I don’t mean Nazis. Obviously I don’t mean Nazis. Though there is a robust debate in the library community about whether Nazis or TERFs or whatever should be allowed to like, use library facilities for their own group meetings or whatever. I tend to fall on the “I don’t think so” side of the conversation, but there’s a valid argument to be made about not impeding people’s access to information -- even wrong or harmful information.

Any other advice?

Of course! I love to talk. Let’s see . . .

Get really passionate about freedom of information and access: A library’s main reason for existing is to help people get ahold of information (including fiction) that they couldn’t otherwise access. If you’re a public librarian, you have to care a lot about making sure people can access information you probably hate. (If you’re an academic librarian it’s a little more tricky, because the resources should meet a certain scholarly threshold, and if you’re a school librarian there are issues of appropriateness to deal with, but in general more info to more people is always the direction to push.) Get ready to defend your library purchases to angry patrons or even coworkers; get ready to defend your refusal to purchase something, if that’s necessary. Get ready to hold your nose and cringe while you add American Sniper to your library collection, because damn it, your patrons deserve access to the damn stupid book. Get really excited about finding new perspectives and minority representation, because that’s also something your patrons deserve access to. Get really excited about how technology can make access easier for certain patrons, and figure out how to make it happen in your library. Care about this; it’s essential that you’re passionate about information -- helping your patrons find it, making sure they can access it, evaluating it, citing it . . . all of it. Get ranty about it. Just do it.

Be prepared to move if necessary: One of my professors told us that there was one thing that would always guarantee you a job that paid well -- this was in 2016 but still -- that as long as you had it you could do whatever you wanted. And that was a suitcase. Maybe where you live is an oversaturated market (thanks for having 6 library schools in a 4-hour radius, my state). Maybe something something economic factors I don’t really understand; the point is that going into this field, you should probably make peace with the idea that you’ll probably either end up taking a job that doesn’t make enough money or struggle a lot to even find one . . . or you’re going to have to go where the jobs are. It’s a small field. Just know that might be a compromise you have to make, unless you can get a strictly remote job.

Read: This sounds stupidly obvious but it’s true! Read things that aren’t your genre, aren’t your age range; patrons are going to ask you for reading advice all the goddamn time, especially if you’re a public librarian, so the more you can be knowledgeable about whatever your patrons might ask you about, the easier your life will be. If you’re considering librarianship you probably love to read anyway, so just ride that pony as hard as you possibly can.

Learn to be okay with weeding -- even things you don’t think deserve it: You are going to have to recycle books. You’re going to have to throw away books. You’re going to have to take books out of the collection and make them disappear in some fashion or another. There are a lot of reasons -- damage and lack of readership are big ones -- and there’s no bigger red flag to a librarian than someone saying “I could never destroy a book.” That kind of nonsense is said by people who’ve never had to fit 500 books onto a shelf built for 450. Archivists are different, of course, as are historians, and everyone should have a healthy respect for books both as physical objects and as sources of information, but you’re going to have to get rid of them sometimes, and you’re just going to have to learn how to do that dispassionately.

Have fun! No one gets into this because they want money; if you want to be a librarian, or work in any library-adjacent field, it’s because you really care about the values of librarianship, or the people in your community, or preserving and sharing as great a wealth of information as possible. Your job will often be thankless and it’ll sometimes be exhausting. There will be times where it’s actually scary. And unless you’re rich as balls, it will make you stare at your student loans and sigh with despair. (You may be living in your parents’ basement while you sigh at your loans because you can’t afford to live on your own, for an example that has zero relevance to any authors of this blog, living or dead.) I can’t tell you if it’s worth it -- though you’ll probably find out pretty quickly during your internship, because that’s what internships are for. All I can say is that I love it, and I can’t imagine doing anything else.

#ask forest #libraries #librarianship #information science #career advice #education advice #oh my god this is long #i have a lot of feelings okay?#there is no way on earth anyone will read all of this #if you do tell me bc i will not believe it #Anonymous

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

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“You’re such a dork.” for the emotional writing prompts! I don't know anything about critical role, really, so for TMA :)

I spy, with my little eye, Bryce’s attempts to shove her own interests into her fics. Anyways, I am an American in college so I was basing this on my own experiences oops. Enjoy!

Date night was Wednesday evenings. Jon and Martin both found it preferable for a variety of reasons; it was the most likely nights for happy hours at the pubs in town, guaranteeing a cheap drink, and keeping to a weekday night minimized the chance of Jon seeing one of his students out. He hated seeing his students. Not that he hated them of course, he really rather liked them…not that they would ever know that. Being a professor, of parapsychology of all things, was rather rewarding. He knew the content inside and out (it felt good, using the mark of The Eye to actively work against it, to pass along information instead of consuming). And they didn’t seem to mind him either.

That was the thing about university students. They really didn’t care about who he was or where he came from. The fact that he was a scrawny, scarred Englishman in a lecture hall in Scotland didn’t matter to them. In the classroom, all they cared was whether he taught the material well (he did) and was kind to those with late assignments (he was. He had been a university student once too; he remembered the anxiety and depression that took him and his mates in waves). He was a good professor; Jon knew that objectively in the marks his students received. But in the subjective? His student had decided they liked him.

This had dawned on him at the end of his first semester; when he was inundated with emails of sincere thank-you for a great semester, for being such a helpful teacher, for taking the time to help review, et cetera. Martin had grinned at him, poking a tongue out his mouth and making some remark about teacher’s pets coming full circle (Jon was never a teacher’s pet though. He had always asked too many questions. He welcomed those questions with open arms now, to be the teacher he hadn’t had.)

The next semester it had been more obvious that students liked him now that he knew where to look. It was in the open “good-mornings” and questions about his weekend plans, and in the fact that he had the best attendance records of his department. It was in the way they asked genuine questions about his material and the waitlists miles long to get into his sections. Later on, it was in the gentle ribbings about his looking tired and the grey hairs even as they celebrated his fortieth birthday with him, bringing in cupcakes and sneaking in between lectures to decorate his office and the sincere questions over his scars, his life, his relationship with Martin (his introductory lecture always featured Martin and Her Regency, their thick orange tabby). To make eight wonderful semesters short, he was familiar with his students, and they weren’t afraid to be familiar back. Which was wonderful in the classroom and all, but not when he was trying have a relaxing evening with his husband.

Which brings them back to Wednesdays. Wednesdays were the days least likely to have students out in town, he had learned from Dr. Kerrigan, the positive psych professor, because Thirsty Thursdays started off the weekend’s partying and drinking for the undergraduates. Wednesday was the day students, in theory, buckled down to finish homework and give themselves a free weekend.

So here they were, Martin in a collared shirt, printed with tiny flowers, and jeans, hair bleached white from the Lonely and curling softly at his temples; Jon in a slouchy ribbed turtleneck and high-waisted pants, his own thick curls half-piled atop his head. Jon was listening intently as Martin spoke animatedly, talking about his own day as a guidance counselor at the local primary school.

“…and I swear Jon, if it wasn’t bad enough that Kimmy has decided never to speak to Lawrence again, now Lawrence has confided in me that he is positively in love with her.”

“Did he say that verbatim? In love, I mean.”

“I mean, no, but he said he was willing to give her all his Squishmallows for a playdate. Squishmallows. That’s real eight-year-old commitment, right there.”

Jon barked out a laugh and put on a puppy-eyed expression, grinning all the while. “Martin Blackwood, do you hereby take Jonathan Sim’s stuffed animals, to have and to ho-”

A gentle swat to the knee with Martin’s shoe cut Jon off. “Oi! Respect my children. They may be fools but its not their faults their brains aren’t developed yet. And yes, I know, ‘they’re not developed ‘til twenty-five and you can argue that your students’ brains aren’t developed either.’ But it’s different. They’re babies.”

“And I’m the All-Knowing One,” Jon mused thoughtfully around a forkful of food, earning him another love-filled kick.

“Speaking of,” Martin pointed to Jon with his glass, eyeing him deliberately. “Midterms next week, yeah? How do you think it’ll go?”

Jon shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “Alright, I hope. First exam went well but could’ve been better. I’m worried about Avonni, honestly, he’s nodded off a few times in class and I’m not confident he has someone to get the material from.”

“He has you.” A pointed, snow-white eyebrow.

“Right, but sometimes students don’t want to ask for notes because they think I’ll say no. Maybe I should email him. Speaking of email! Did I tell you what Suzanne sent out?”

“Oh no, what?”

They carried on like this through their meal and into dessert, and not for the first time Jon was struck by the sheer normalcy of it all. His greatest concerns were Suzanne’s passive-aggressive emails and his students, not the inevitable destruction of reality as they knew it to be. They were scarred, inside and out, everyone who had escaped The Magnus Institute was, but they were safe and free and happy. In defiance of everything that had happened to and because of them.

“Dr. Sims!”

Uh oh. Spoke too soon.

Bite of lava cake halfway to his mouth, Jon squeezed his eyes shut, rolling his eyes back in his head and willing there to be another professor with the surname Sims in the restaurant. When he opened his eyes, Martin was valiantly trying to suppress a smile as he eyed something, someone, over his head. Jon twisted awkwardly in his seat to see—

“Parker. What a surprise.” His voice was warm but carefully measured, and the dark-skinned boy waved, shit-eating grin on his face. “I have told you that you can call me Jon.”

“Yeah, I know, but you earned that doctorate! And “Doctor Jon” sounds awful, like you should have your own show or something.”

He hadn’t earned that doctorate, actually, but Martin’s expertise in lying and the disastrous apocalypse that had left everyone disoriented meant it had been easy to exaggerate some of Jon’s CV and manufacture a fake diploma.

“I do have my own show. Monday and Wednesday mornings, where I teach a bunch of caffeinated undergrads parapsychology,” Jon replied easily. “You’re welcome to tune in.” He liked Parker; he was a bit of a class clown, liked to ask off-topic questions or pretend to sneak a look at Jon’s answer sheets, but he was sharp and knew his stuff. Jon respected that. He reminded Jon of someone he dearly missed.

But Parker had already turned his attention to Martin, who was watching the interaction with mirth in his eyes. “Hello sir! I’m Parker McMichael, Jon’s favorite student.” Martin shook the extended hand and nodded in mock seriousness.

“Of course. Pleasure to finally meet you. Are you the one with the essay on ESP or the one on psychokinesis?”

“Neither,” Parker shook his head proudly, short dreads swaying gently with the movement. “The Validity and Continuity of Near-Death Experiences,” he made a mock marquee with his hands, arching curved fingers to indicate the title hanging in the air. “Researching any consistencies in near-death experiences stories, whether they’re legitimate, and what they mean if they are. But-” Parker shook his head and turned his attention back to Jon. “That’s not why I’m interrupting.” He took his phone out of pocket idly as he spoke. “I’m afraid I’ve come to settle a dispute among the 11 a.m. section.”

Oh no.

The Ceaseless Watcher whispered to him, unbidden, the dispute in question. Jon generally knew how to suppress the powers, and they were weaker than they had been, once upon a time, but when he’s caught off guard with the desire to know, to Know, it could still overtake him.

“This you?” A blurry screenshot of a Youtube video is shoved under his nose, a part of a text chain titled Sim’s Spoopy Spirits, captioned by many text bubbles expressing disbelief and objections and a variety of emojis. Jon took the phone and examined it, the truth already sure in his chest. Yes, that was him, dressed in his Jonny d’Ville costume, eyeliner streaked and eyes closed, mid-ballad. God, he wished he could be rid of those Youtube videos.

Jon’s gaping silence must have been enough of an answer for Parker because he whooped a little too loudly for the restaurant they were in and pumped his fist to his chest before typing very quickly on his phone. “I knew it! Take that Sabina,” he was mumbling to himself, lost in his texts for a moment.

Martin took the opportunity to clear his throat. “Sorry, uh, no one’s asked so I will. How did you know to look for him-us-here?” Jon frowned, He hadn’t thought about that.

“Oh, a couple of my mates work here and mentioned seeing Dr. Sims and his husband here a lot on Wednesdays and I dunno about you so much, but Dr. Sims is pretty habitual. Figured it was as good a guess as any. Some things can’t wait til Monday.”

“..an email. Parker. You could’ve sent me an email.” Fingers ran over scarred face, as if he could wipe the irritation (and Martin’s poorly-hidden laugh) from existence.

“But then I couldn’t do this.” His phone was back up again, level with his own face and he twisted so both his own and Jon’s faces were in the shot. “I’m here at 7:02 pm on Wednesday the 26, here to make a very important announcement,” Parker spoke to the camera with confidence. “Dr. Sims just confirmed to me that he is the one, the only, Jonny d’Ville.” Parker held the camera to Jon’s voice. “Anything to say to your adoring fans?”

Jon sighed and tugged on an errant curl. “Don’t forget, reading due Monday.” He wasn’t genuinely upset with Parker, just filled with fond embarrassment.

Parker sent the video off and clapped the back of Jon’s chair. “Well, Dr. D’Ville, its been a pleasure. Everyone’s really excited to get a confirmation on your status of coolest teacher. Any plans for the evening?”

Jon sighed through his lower lip, stray curls framing his scalp flying upward in the sudden burst of wind. “Watching a documentary and trying to forget—wait. What?”

“Oh yeah no, everyone thinks it’s badass. You’ve got a super nice voice and the stories you told were really interesting, if a little buckwild.”

Jon felt his cheeks flush and Martin grinned slyly at him from across the table. “Y-Yes. I guess we were rather good.”

Parker gave his farewells and Jon’s shoulders sagged (he had immediately righted his posture on seeing Parker, his grandmother’s voice in his ear reminding him of his manners), turning his full attention back to his husband. Martin had maintained that grin and was eyeing him intensely, like he expected Jon to say something.

“What, Martin?”

“God, you’re such a dork.” The words were soft, expression fond, and Jon could feel the radiation of unadulterated love Martin gave off in his smile, the one only ever used for Jon. “You really love your students, don’t you? You know how much they love you, right?”

Jon grumbled, but he couldn’t quite sweep the smile off his face either as their waiter made his way over with their check.

“No comment. But we are switching to Tuesday date nights.”

#tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #prompts #date night #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fanfic to a tea

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thadelightfulone · 3 years

Text

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 5

November 21st - Part 2

Erik’s tablet chimed as he finished up the dishes. He set aside the leftovers for later and went to see what DeeDee had to say.

He roared with laughter at how she ended the email. Why was she so stuck on finding out if he found the love he described? Her curiosity tickled him and now he had to decide how to navigate this conversation away from that kind of talk.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about the non-existent once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that he wanted. But how do you explain to someone how you never felt you deserved it, so you never went looking for it? And therefore, you don’t have it.

Erik sighed and reached for something stronger than water to drink.

He took the tablet, the bottle and glass into the living room. He took a seat on the couch and cracked his knuckles and began to write his response for the Curious DeeDee. Erik shook his head and laughed again.

Erik hoped this would be enough to get DeeDee away from asking again, but something told him it wasn’t over.

---

DeeDee had devoured half of the pizza and the bottle of wine. She went to her room to change out of her cleaning clothes into her favorite hoodie and a pair of yoga pants.

Her laptop went off when she returned from the back, and DeeDee jumped onto her couch in excitement. She couldn’t wait to find out that he found his true life long love.

If she couldn’t find it for herself, there was no reason for her to not want that for everyone else. Live vicariously through her new friend, Erik. Wait, could she consider him a friend? She scrunched her face at that rude thought and opened his email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Hi Dee Dee,

I know you know I meant science, but I will answer one of those questions to quell your curiosity. I, also, commend you for pursuing your doctorate, and in advanced chemistry, no less.

So, it’s kind of a funny story, but I never meant to leave it in there.

Fun fact about the note, it is much older than you think. I was a civil engineering major during undergrad, when I originally wrote that note and left it in the book.

It happened when I was returning all my checked out books from the library. I was getting ready to move and needed to get them all in to avoid any replacement fees that would have prevented the conferral of my doctoral degree. So, I turned all of those books in without checking them. Which was definitely out of character for me. Especially since I lived by all my written notes for both class and research.

I discovered it was missing when I went to look for it after the move. I knew exactly where it was, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to get it. So, it was just out there. Besides, I knew what it said by heart, so it was fine.

I will tell you I never expected to be discussing it years later though. It has been a very pleasant surprise.

Thank you,

“Of course, he would avoid the damn question.” She huffed out and poured another glass. It should not be that hard to answer, either he found it or is still in search of it. DeeDee’s hand stilled as she brought it to her lips. Nope, not going there tonight. She took a long drink of her wine.

She set the glass down, drew up her legs and crossed them before settling the computer on her lap. In a flurry, DeeDee’s fingers danced across her keyboard as she wrote her response. The alcohol heated her up to match her current mood.

---

Erik was chilling, in a half-assed attempt to watch the movie playing on TV. He had turned the volume down because the woman’s high pitched tone was grating on his nerves. He set the whiskey down on his coffee table and leaned back with his feet propped up and closed his eyes.

The easily recognizable email alert stirred him. Oh, she had time. It had only been about 20 minutes since he sent the last email. He sat up and opened up the email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mr. Erik,

So, you really aren’t going to answer that other question? Ok, that’s fine. I’ll let it slide for now.

Thank you for that. I have always wanted to work in the science field and I found toxicology while I was working on my Bachelors. I enjoy it and definitely appreciate having Dr. O as my mentor.

That is an interesting story. The one time you lost control and you left something like the note behind. Well, I guess it is just my luck that I found it and decided to look for you, huh? Oh, and you’re welcome.

What do you do now? I know you aren’t working in a lab or researching much anymore.

I read a little bit about you but I don’t know much about the work that the Wakandan Outreach Centers do. I would love to hear about it.

DeeDee

“That’s right. Quis, did say she was one of his students.” Then why was he worried about the person being a stalker. Erik set the tablet down and reached for his cell to text him.

Erik: Quis, why were you worried about DeeDee?

Quis: What?

Erik: About stalker potential?

Quis: Man, I didn’t even know it was her until she came and showed me a picture.

Erik: What picture?

Quis: Our Grad Student of the Year picture from the front of the Southern Digest.

Erik nodded his head, “So, Miss DeeDee knows what I look like. Or what I looked like.”

Quis: Everything good, man.

Erik: Yeah, yeah. Just wanted a little background, can’t be too sure of people asking for help these days.

Quis: DeeDee could never stoop to Karina’s level. She’s safe.

“The hell, she is.” Erik picked up his glass and took a sip. “This woman is becoming more dangerous, as we speak.”

Quis: So, I take it that you can be of use to her?

Erik: Uh yeah, she is very sharp.

Quis: You have no idea.

Erik: Thanks again. Oh, and I got the email, so I’m making plans now.

Quis: Great. Later, man.

“If Marquis vouched for her, then I have nothing to worry about.”

Erik dropped his phone back onto the couch and picked up the tablet.

“Here goes nothing.”

---

DeeDee was on Spotify. She picked a list at random and let the music take her away. She was slowly bodyrolling to Rome Flynn’s ‘Keep Me In Mind’ with a refreshed glass in hand, when her phone blinked. She walked over to it and saw that Erik had sent another email. She took a sip and picked up her phone to open his reply.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

DeeDee,

How did I go from Erik to Mister?

I guess if you get to know me better than maybe you would find out the answer to your question.

But you are right. I tend to have a tight rein on things, it has always been that way. So, when I lost the note, I was irritated before I realized it wasn’t going to matter in the long run. But it appears to have landed in exceptional hands. *winks*

Well, I am in the family business. My family started the Wakandan Outreach Centers. The first one was opened up here in Oakland. I am the Director of Operations for it and all the Centers on the West Coast.

My first love will always be science. So, although, I may not be active in the field according to your definition. I still use everything I learned and conduct research with my cousins on a regular basis.

Since you know so much about me. Tell me something about DeeDee. Like how much longer do you have to complete your doctorate?

Mr. Erik

“Does he think that wink is gonna work on me?” DeeDee hid her smile behind the glass. “Damnit.”

She locked up the phone and walked back to her couch. DeeDee traded devices and picked up her laptop to reply to Erik.

“You don’t get to wink at me and then wash over the topic again.”

DeeDee pressed down hard on each key as she typed. She admired the fact that his family was close enough to work together on something as big as the successful operation of multiple Outreach Centers across the U.S. But she would not rest until he answered her.

“You aren’t cute, Mr. Erik.” She glanced over to the notebook, where the newspaper clipping of him and Dr. O was folded up inside. She recalled some dimples and a bright smile. He definitely towered over her 5’4 frame. He stood at least 2-3 inches taller than Dr. O, and she had to look up at him all the time. “Yeah, you not that cute.”

She clapped her hands and hit the ‘send’ button. Her phone went off. She saw Beverly sent something in the group chat.

Bev: Dinner and the club, tonight?

Phyll: You know I’m down.

DeeDee: No thanks. I’m covered for the rest of the year.

Bev: Come on, DeeDee.

DeeDee: Phyll, don’t you have work?

Phyll: Don’t try to change the subject, Dee.

Bev: You ain’t doing nothing important. It’s not like you have something to study for anymore.

DeeDee looked at her computer. “Come on, Erik. Give me a reason to stay home tonight.”

---

Erik just brought the glass to his lips when the tablet alerted him to another email. So, they were really doing this tonight? Back and forth emails in real time. He doesn’t even remember the last time, he looked forward to hearing from someone. It had been a while since someone had his attention like that. And after a few simple emails, he found that DeeDee squirmed her way into that space.

“What’s up Miss DeeDee?” He opened the email, “Ready to share?”

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mister Erik,

*pouts* Fine. I don’t know why you can’t just answer the question now, but ok.

That is wonderful. Sounds like the family business is treating you well. And you are enjoying what you do. That is all I want from my career. I want to do research and teach others. It’s a growing field so if we can get more men and women of color into STEM careers, I am here for it.

Something about me -- I’m an only child and a legacy student. Both of my parents attended Southern. In fact, it’s where they met all those years ago. And I like to read...like I can read anything and get lost in someone else’s world for hours.

But this is hopefully my final semester, I am preparing to defend my dissertation next month. Wish me luck!

DeeDee

“Her parents met at Southern?” Erik put the tablet down and walked over to his fireplace. He picked up the center picture from the mantle and closed his eyes briefly. Two people were standing together in front of a large building. He rubbed his fingers over the top of the image of his parents. It read John B. Cade, it was the library at Southern University. Where his parents met and fell in love.

Erik took a deep breath and put the picture back up. He stood there and looked at the tablet.

“Is it possible that she could be?” He shook his head before he went down that road. The image of the last woman he thought could be his one and only flashed across his mind. He groaned out. Erik walked over to the couch and grabbed the tablet. “Only one way to find out.”

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Text

The Detective and the Teacher

A/N: This idea kinda came out of nowhere, but I needed to get it out of my head (like most of my stories). It’s a two-parter, and I’ll post part 2 tomorrow. If people are interested, I could make it into a longer series, but I also am kind of ok with it being short. Also, idk how to write dates, sorry

Tags: None for this part, next part will

Words: 3k+

I have a meeting with a cute guy in my class. You should come, meet him

You rolled your eyes at the text your friend sent you. She was a professor at Fordham University, teaching Risk and Crisis Communications to undergrads and graduate students. She, however, was happily married. But that didn’t stop her from finding cute guys in her class and trying to set them up with you. “They’re college students; they’re going somewhere in life,” she would argue. Besides, her idea of “cute college guys” wasn’t totally off; the main problem was waiting for someone around your age to be in her classes. You were a teacher yourself, in your early 30s, and most people taking her classes were right out of high school; way too young for you.

It was the beginning of summer in New York, so you didn’t have classes, instead volunteering at the library. Your friend, Professor Stafford, was teaching night classes this semester; sometimes she stayed after class to help a student if they asked…and they couldn’t make her office hours. So, it was 8pm by the time you were walking the halls of the University, a coffee in your hand—an excuse to meet with a friend. It was her idea; if there was a potential date for you, she’d text you, you’d come to the University with a coffee or food to deliver it to her before the meeting, then casually “bump” into the student. You made it to her classroom, handed her the coffee.

“So, what’s his name?” you asked, grinning.

She took the coffee gratefully, taking a sip before replying. “Andrew Wise. He’s one of my top students; I think you’ll really like him.” She gave you a playful wink and you rolled your eyes.

“You said that about the last three guys, and they were all snobby jerks,” you laughed.

She opened her mouth to respond when there was a soft knock on the door, a man poking his head in. “Uh, Professor Stafford? Should I wait outside?”

“No, no Andrew. Come in. This is just my friend, dropping off some coffee,” she said, beckoning him in.

You looked Andrew up and down briefly; he seemed nice, and there was nothing really wrong with him, but just the vibe he gave off had you instantly thinking, nope. You gave a smile and wave to your friend before heading out, letting them have their meeting. You didn’t feel like waiting, like trying to come up with a reason to wait, to talk to Andrew after his meeting. Instead, you wandered through the hallways, looking out the windows to the trees, the sky darkening. The sunset was slowly fading, the sky changing from the bright pinks and oranges to the pale blue of evening. You were so engrossed with the picturesque beauty of it all that you walked face-first into another person, the side of your face fully connecting with their flat, warm chest.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you said, pulling back to steady yourself, looking towards whoever you had just stumbled into. You looked forward and your eyes met chest, covered in a plain, Fordham U shirt. Your eyes travelled upwards into his face and you had to stop yourself from staring; he was, well, cute.

“It’s fine, really. I shoulda been watching where I was going,” he replied back, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back, his brow was furrowed, though his bright blue eyes hinted at amusement.

You smiled up at him, and he returned it, a goofy grin pulling easily across his face. “No, I was definitely admiring the view,” you gestured out to the landscape. You noticed the backpack slung over his shoulder, “and now I’m holding you from your next class.”

“No, no, I’m done for the night; just heading home actually.” He readjusted the backpack, as if your gaze had shifted it. He glanced over the balcony and towards the sky. “It really is a pretty view, huh?”

Your eyes never left him as you agreed. God, you’re acting like a teenager in a shitty romance novel, you thought to yourself, trying to snap out of whatever trance you were in.

“So, uh, do you go here?” he asked, eyes sliding back to you.

You shook your head. “I don’t, no. Uh, Professor Stafford is a friend of mine. I was just stopping by to say hi,” you explained.

“Professor Stafford? Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell. I dunno if I know them,” he said, contemplating. At some point during this conversation, you both fell into step next to each other, both heading towards the parking lot.

“Are you taking any Communications courses?” you asked.

“And that’s why I haven’t heard of them; I am not,” he grinned. “I’m a law student.” You nodded in understanding; while you thought Communications could be beneficial to a law student—to most students, if you were honest with yourself—most people didn’t take classes outside of their majors. Especially in a field that was so dependent on passing an exam.

“Well, if you ever need an elective, I highly recommend her class,” you smiled.

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You walked in silence for a moment. “My name’s Sonny, by the way. Sonny Carisi.”

It had just hit you that you never introduced yourself; with the shock of literally walking face-first into someone, then the easy conversation, it had completely slipped your mind. It was like you were old friends already. “Oh, [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Nice to meet you, Sonny.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he gave you that goofy grin again, and you swore that you swooned right there. How did he do that with just a smile? You made it to the parking lot and found that you were parked semi-close to each other. He followed you to your car, something that you initially thought should raise alarms in your head, but something about him was calming, unthreatening.

“So,” he started as you unlocked your car. You opened the driver’s door, then leaned on it, him standing near the front of your car. He suddenly looked nervous, bashful, and it made him look even cuter. “Can I maybe buy you a coffee sometime? To, uh, make up for running into you,” he quickly added.

You felt your face grow warmer as you blushed, your heart fluttering. Did he just ask you out? “Uh, yeah. I’d like that,” you replied, unable to stop yourself from grinning broadly at him.

He smiled himself, seemingly happy that you agreed. “Great! How about tomorrow, say 10am, Cuppa Beans on 6th street?”

You quickly thought through tomorrow, made sure you had nothing scheduled in the morning. “That sounds perfect. I’ll see you there, Sonny.” With that, he made his way to his car while you got into yours. Once he was out of your line of sight, you flailed your arms in disbelief—you got a date with a super-cute law student!

*****************

You woke up the next day early, wanting to shower and pick out something cute to wear. While you got ready, you thought back to the information you had found last night. You weren’t stupid enough to go into a date blind; you googled “Sonny Carisi” the first moment you could the night before. And when that came up with nothing substantial, you asked Professor Stafford for help. Turns out, Sonny was a nickname; his real name was Dominick. With that knowledge, you were able to find that he was a detective for the NYPD, specifically for Manhattan’s SVU department. That gave you a little bit of a pause; you couldn’t imagine having to deal with those kinds of cases, what kinds of things Sonny had probably seen on the job. You wondered if that did anything to his mind, weighed on him at all. You hoped so; someone would have to be a monster for it not to. Maybe that’s why he was a law student, maybe he wanted out. Maybe he wanted some sort of revenge against the predators that he couldn’t get as an officer; some sort of control by being the prosecutor tasked with sealing them away rather than seeing the crime scenes.

You pushed the assumptions out of your mind; you didn’t know this man, not yet. You had met him less than 24 hours ago, had a small chat. He seemed nice enough, and he was definitely attractive. You resolved to judge him based on what you gained from first-hand experience, and to shove everything you learned online, all the conjecture out until you knew more.

Cuppa Beans was relatively close to your apartment, and it was a bright, sunny day in New York, so you opted to walk. Besides, you loved the fresh air of the city, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the soft breeze playing with your hair, the cacophony of sounds that others most likely found annoying or monotonous. You wore a simple, navy blue sundress that had a white tie around your waist, a big, white bow on your hip. You made your way through the crowded streets, full of people hurrying to whatever their destinations might be. You were early; you always were. But you didn’t mind; Cuppa Beans was set up for either those who wanted a coffee and to move on with their day, or for those who wanted to sit and relax, a shelf of books on their counter for anyone to read while they enjoyed their beverage. You ordered then sat, skimming the worn spines of books until a familiar one stood out to you. You picked it out, looking at the familiar cover. Remembering one of your favorite scenes, you opened the book, flipping the pages until you found it, then you quickly got lost in the text while waiting.

“[Y/N],” a happy voice greeted, pulling you out of the book.

You glanced up, Sonny standing in front of you, his trademark grin on his face. He pulled out the chair across from you as you closed the book, putting it back on the shelf.

“Hey Sonny,” you smiled. Right then, the barista brought you your coffee and you thanked her.

“Ah, I thought I was going to buy you a coffee,” Sonny said, jokingly offended.

Your smiled widened. “You have to order something to sit here, sorry,” you explained, taking a sip. Sonny ordered his coffee, and the barista left to make it.

“It’s fine; maybe I can convince you to let me buy you lunch instead.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you asking me out on a second date before we’ve even had our first?”

His cheeks reddened and his eyes widened slightly. “Well, it doesn’t have to be…I mean, it can be an extension of this one?” You laughed, and he tried to switch the subject. “So, what were you reading when I got here? You seemed really into it.”

You nodded, grabbing the book once more. “It’s called Wind from an Enemy Sky by D’Arcy McNickle. It’s very good; I’m thinking of using it in my class next year.” He furrowed his brow at this. “Oh, I’m an English teacher at Townsend Harris High School…I know, I’m not a college professor at Fordham like my friend, but I like teaching high school.”

“High school, huh? I couldn’t imagine trying to teach a bunch of teenagers anything,” he smirked.

You nodded; that was most people’s reaction. But it was also that reaction that made you want to teach high school more. “It’s not as bad as people seem to think. They are people, you know. Just treat them with respect, and they’re pretty receptive. I mean, you’re going to have those class clowns, but you just have to know how to deal with them. Stimulate their minds in other ways,” you explained.

The barista gave Sonny his coffee, and he sipped at it appreciatively. “So, what’s the book about?” You started off slowly, explaining the main plotline of the book; how it followed Bull, the leader of the Little Elk tribe, and how it talked about how homesteaders came into the West, encroaching upon their land. But you couldn’t stop yourself from diving in, talking about the inherent cultural appropriation that the main antagonist has, how from the first page, you know how the story will end in tragedy, how the ecocentrism worked, and ending with how important it was for teenagers to read and understand books that were written like this; from the other side, from people other than white men.

By the end of your monologue, Sonny was blinking at you, a dazed look on his face, though something else underneath, something that looked a lot like admiration.

“I’m sorry; that got a lot more in-depth than I thought it would,” you said, cheeks turning red. Sometimes, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting into a text you really liked. Your students usually picked up on that and took advantage of it; many classes ended without the students talking because you had steamrolled over the conversation.

“Hey, don’t apologize for your interests. You just know…a lot more about themes and novels than I do,” he smiled.

You sat up at the praise but were still feeling embarrassed at the word vomit that had occurred. Taking a page out of his book, you decided to switch topics. “Tell me about yourself; how is it working as a detective and being a law student?”

Sonny’s brow furrowed, “how’d you know I was a detective?”

You face felt even warmer, and you knew you were fully red now. “I, uh, googled you last night…nothing personal, just wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, a serial killer or something,” you laughed nervously, and he smirked.

“No, I get it, that’s smart, really. Can never be too safe.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve wanted to be a lawyer for a while, now, but the timing just never seemed right, ya know? So, after high school, I just kinda went into the academy; I knew I wanted to help people, and I figured that was a good way to do it. It wasn’t until recently that I figured ‘why not’? So, now I’m taking the night classes to try and get my license, pass the bar.”

You nodded along with his story; you yourself changed your major a couple times before settling into where you were. It was definitely normal, and you believed wholeheartedly that anyone could go back to school at any point in their life, learn anything they wanted to.

“Are you going to switch out of law enforcement when you pass the bar, then? Become a prosecutor? Or are you just taking law classes to help you in your detective work?” you asked. The idea occurred to you while in the shower; knowing more about the law could help in the interview rooms, when he interrogated suspects. You knew he said he wanted to be a lawyer before, but that didn’t mean he was going for it.

“I’m…not quite sure, yet. I really like being a detective, ya know? I like helping people. I guess at this point, I just want to pass the bar; that’s where my focus is…when it’s not at work,” he explained. “I can figure out where to go after that.”

You nodded again. “I couldn’t imagine trying to work full time in…that department, and then also take college classes,” you commented. You shuddered remembering your time going to school full time and working retail at the same time.

“It can be…taxing sometimes. But at the end of the day, it’s nice knowing I’ve helped somebody.” There were unspoken words in the air, and you could hear them as if he had said them. You noticed it in his eyes, the flash of sadness as he thought about the ones he couldn’t help. But the moment passed, and his bright blues were clear once more.

That answered your other question; some cases did hit him hard. But, as you had also decided, that was a good thing; cases like that should pull on heartstrings. You noticed he had a hand on the table, and you reached up and slowly, so slowly, put your hand on his in comfort. That goofy grin reappeared on his face, and he interlaced his fingers with yours.

You both finished your coffees, then left the shop together, Sonny holding the door open for you, his hand never letting yours go. By some unspoken agreement, you both started walking down the street, hand-in-hand, arms swinging slightly. You asked Sonny about his semester and listened as he rambled on about some theory he had to memorize, or some law he had to apply to a fake case for a class. You realized that you enjoyed listening to him talk; he was very animated, dropping your hand to gesture in front of himself, then taking your hand again, before dropping it to gesture again. You smiled, then laughed as he described one of his professor’s insane expectations for how much he expected his students to read and write, wondering in awe how Sonny managed to juggle all that schoolwork plus his job.

“Do you sleep?” you finally asked, causing him to chuckle.

“Some nights,” he replied, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Maybe because you were feeling bold, or maybe because he did already kind of ask you on a second date, but you replied with, “maybe I can help with that sometime.”

He stumbled a step, his hand gripping yours tighter as he struggled to stay standing, and you giggled. His cheeks were red, and he opened his mouth to say something, but then his phone rang. He dug it out, answering with a terse, “Carisi.” It was interesting watching him go from a flustered mess one moment to focused detective the next. He nodded against the phone, even though whoever was on the other end couldn’t see him. “Yeah, alright Lieu, I’ll be there in 20.” He hung up then gave you an apologetic look.

“Duty calls?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, just got some new…developments on a case I’m working. I’m so sorry about this—”

“Don’t be, I get it,” you cut him off, giving him an understanding smile. If you wanted to try and continue seeing him, then this may become a habit…and you did want to try and see him, even though you’d only been on one date. You already felt a closeness to him that you couldn’t quite explain.

“I parked over at the coffee shop; I can walk you back there,” he offered, extending his hand back to you. You took his, interlacing your fingers once more, and hurried back towards the shop. Before he left, he handed you his card—you struggled not to laugh at the fact that he carried these around on his day off—and you put it in your purse, vowing to text him later that night, to set up that lunch that he offered to take you to.

“So, you do want a second date?” he asked, hopeful. You smiled; he was all in a hurry to head to the station, to get into whatever work awaited him, but he had stopped dead in his tracks at the prospect of another date.

“Of course. I had a great time today, Sonny.”

He grinned back at you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “I had a lot of fun, too. Hopefully our next date won’t be cut short.”

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing

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the--social--anarchist · 5 years

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Study Tips for Chronically Ill Students

Most bloggers aren’t writing for the chronically ill audience. Typical tips, tricks and hacks on productivity, motivation and studying just don’t work for us. As a chronically ill student who’s in her last year of undergrad (yay!) I decided to share what I have learned over the (many) years.

1. Get comfortable. Seriously. Don’t force yourself to sit at your desk, or go out to a coffee shop to study. Most people will tell you not to lay in bed while you read your books but if you are anything like me, getting ready and driving to the library or Starbucks just takes too much energy. I recommend making yourself a nice set up with everything you need. If you can tolerate sitting at a desk don’t skimp out. Buy yourself a decent, ergonomic office or gaming chair. Make sure you have a drink, a snack, your medication, charges, books, and anything else you need within arms reach. The less you have to get up the more energy you are saving.

2. Take frequent breaks. Okay, this may sound contradictory to tip #1 but hear me out. Everyone person is different, every body is different, and every day is different. Some days your symptoms are just so bad you need to get comfortable and try not to move. But other days you might be fighting brain fog and mental exhaustion. So get up, or even just stop and sit for a minute to rest your mind. Some days I will stop every few sections and get up to do something small like apply a face mask, go back to studying, and then get up in 15 minutes to wash it off etc. Just find what works for you.

3. Write shit down. Write everything down. And write it in multiple places. Again, brain fog is such a bitch, but writing things down multiple times in multiple places will help you remember. I have a paper calendar that I write all my assignment due dates, doctors appointments, and other important things onto, but I also have an assignment check list with all of my upcoming assignments in my notebook. Also, I keep a huge running list titled Never Ending List of Shit To Do with boring chores and tasks that need to be done like doctors to call, bills to pay, letters to mail etc; and I use that list to pick and choose what I’m going to do each day and fill that out on a sticky note or another small insert that serves as my daily to do list.

4. Establish a routine. But don’t be discouraged if you can’t follow it to a T and don’t be afraid to change it up. My routine changes a lot because my symptoms and body are constantly changing too. Also, it’s important to note that a routine is not the same as a schedule. This is important for those of us with chronic illness because its just not feasible to assume we will be able to get up at the same time every day, eat lunch at the same time every day, and study for the same amount of time every day.

5. Stay (way) ahead of schedule. You never know what life is going to throw at you, especially when you are chronically ill. Unfortunately, we can’t plan our flares, but we can prepare for them. If you know you suffer from migraines that will knock you out of commission for 3 days then make sure you are always 3 days ahead of schedule. Something I highly recommend is doing a little bit every day, even if its only 20 minutes of reading. Of course, sometimes we need a break and that’s okay too! Self care is important!

6. Online classes are the best. So many people say online classes are hard because you have to be super disciplined, and that it’s easier to have the accountability to show up to class, but I highly disagree. Online classes give you the freedom to read when you want, listen to lectures when you want, sleep when you need to, and stay comfortable in bed when it would be impossible to get to class. I work solely online and if it weren’t for the option of online classes I would not be in college right now or anytime in the near future.

7. Audio is your friend. Honestly, this is a tip for everyone in high school or college out there. Sometimes we are too tired or in too much pain to stare at a book or screen, or sometimes we need to utilize our energy wisely and multitask by listening while we clean the house. And this isn’t limited to audio text books. There are so many YouTube videos, podcasts, documentaries and more that you can easily just pop on while you are resting or doing chores! I listen to my lectures while I do my nails every week.

8. Don’t rewrite your notes. Don’t write them at all if you can avoid it. Almost all of my professors supply chapter outlines or summaries that I can just print off and fill in extra notes on. If you do need to write your notes I suggest typing them, or only writing them out once, and only what is most important. Whatever you do, don’t rewrite them, and for the love of god do not waste your time trying to make them look like an Instagram photo. Ain’t nobody got spoons for that.

9. Try to balance your course load appropriately. If you are taking a full course load try to even out the number of upper division classes you take with some easy classes, as well as some boring and some interesting. Alternatively, don’t be afraid to drop classes and go down to part time, even if just for one semester. I have tried to stay full time all year round since I re-enrolled in school fall semester of 2017, but spring of 2019 my health took a drastic decline and I did drop down from 5 classes to 3. I also took summer of 2019 off to focus on my health and came back this semester (fall 2019) ready to rock and roll. Seriously, do not be afraid to drop classes. It felt like the end of the world when I did it, but it was absolutely the right choice for me. It saved my GPA and my sanity.

10. Talk to your professor. And your university, and your classmates, and your adviser, and anyone else around you who can offer resources and support. Every university and college has a Disability Services Coordinator Student Center available to request accommodations. The information to contact the center should be listed on your syllabus and the school website. They can help with everything and anything disability related. And if you feel comfortable you should really talk to your professor. Just give them a heads up and inform them of what’s going on. As for your classmates, its always good to connect and find a study buddy or someone you can borrow notes from whether you have a disability or not!

I really hope this list can help some fellow chronically ill students out there. This is what I have learned in my 5+ years of attending college with various chronic and mental illnesses. I truly live by everything I talked about in this post and I have been fairly successful in my academic career. Please re-blog this post to help a fellow student who may have a chronic illness or disability! Happy studying!

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queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

distracted art appreciation | Ethan Ramsey x MC

Summary: It takes him fifty-six days in the jungle to get over her. Or, well, so he thought.

WC: 3k+

Warnings: N*FW

She’s been staring at the same painting for the past fourteen minutes.

Though, she uses the term ‘painting’ loosely -- whatever she’s looking at is made of twisted straw wrappers and crumbled pages of an IKEA manual. The placard next to the work features phrases like ‘a work of action’ and ‘an introspection into rampant consumerism.’ To her (admittedly untrained) eye, it looks like someone dumped a trashcan over a canvas and spray-painted it with viscera and glitter. Taking another sip of her wine, she glances down at her phone to see that only another minute has passed.

“Two more hours,” Sloane mutters to herself, hopelessly wishing again for time to speed up.

It’s not that she isn’t happy for Kyra, who started out with painting tutorials on YouTube and worked up to a modest following in Boston’s art community, which led her here to her first gallery show. She was excited for the first hour, sticking close to her friend as Kyra chatted with fellow artists about mediums and superatism and juxtaposition and a hundred other terms Sloane didn’t understand. But as conversations flowed, Kyra’s nerves settled down, and she waved Sloane off to go get some air and peruse the other artwork.

Which is how she came to standing in front of The Shopper’s Sediment, waiting for the event to end so she can help Kyra haul her paintings back down the block to her car.

The pleas for company that Sloane sent to the group chat have gone unanswered; they’re probably all still out at the new fantasy-themed bar that she skipped on to be a good friend who keeps her promises.

She’s so concentrated on the ugly artwork that she doesn’t realize there’s a person standing beside her. In fact, she only realizes they’re even there when she lifts her wine glass and ends up whacking them in the side with her elbow.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there, I--” she swallows back the rest of her panicked apology.

Ethan smirks down at her. His hand is clasped around her offending elbow.

“It’s all right. I won’t be pressing charges.”

“Thanks,” she says around the dumb grin on her face.

She admires the cut of the jacket he’s wearing; it’s some sort of tweed fabric with patches on the elbows, as if he’s just stepped down from behind a podium at Boston U. For a long moment, they stare at each other, and then down at his hand, still wrapped around her arm. He yanks his hand back as if he’s been burned; the dumb grin falls from her face.

“Um,” she hides the wince that wants to form, “why are… sorry, what are you doing here?”

“I missed out on a few First Fridays while I was away,” he explains. “Besides, Les Mis is running through the fourteenth, and I’ve seen enough of it for a lifetime. I thought I’d peruse the galleries tonight instead.” Taking a drink from the glass in his other hand, he glances about the room. “And you?”

Sloane tips her head in Kyra’s direction, explaining her role as both a social crutch and moving help. An awkward silence follows her words; she switches her glass from one hand to the other, mentally cursing at herself for fidgeting.

She’s a grown-ass woman! There’s no need for her to fold like a goddamn lawn chair around the man next to her. They’re both adults. They can interact in a public place without acting like idiots.

“Well,” Ethan starts, and then pauses to clear his throat. “You heard all about what I was doing down in Colombia, but I’m… curious. What did you do for the two months I was gone? Besides breaking up bar fights for Reggie.”

“Worked,” she answers with a smile. “And worried, of course.”

He quirks an eyebrow up at her response. “About you,” she clarifies.

“You didn’t need to.”

“I know. But I did anyway.” A smile flickers across his face at her admission. “I kept a close eye on the weather conditions down there. You were there during one of the wettest seasons on record. And now I find out that you were wearing a leather jacket the entire time for protection? Something about that just doesn’t add up. And you know what I think? I think you bought it in Bogota before your return flight, so you could come back with some new… down-to-earth vibe.”

That small smile of his grows; the sight of it makes something flutter in her throat.

“You’re not considering the bigger picture,” he says.

“Which is?”

“How I look in it.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Only when they’re yours.”

Sloane makes a show of taking a drink, if only to hide the blush that’s likely (most definitely) coloring her cheeks. She’s bedded the man twice, yet he can turn her into a mess with a minute of flirting. If hope is the thing with feathers, as Dickinson wrote, it’s flown well beyond her reach now.

“In the interest of continuing our, for a lack of a better term, in vino veritas,” he says, “I… worried about you, too.”

The admission causes her to perk up.

“What for?”

“I chose a poor time to leave. Everything was in an upheaval, with Naveen and Harper and I moving positions, and you having won your trial, and then you were awarded the position on the team, and…” he trails off, brow furrowing as he attempts to corral his rambling. “Naveen told me about Doctor Olsen, about how he tried to sabotage your standing.” At his side, his hand clenches into a fist. “And if you let that slide by, what else were you holding back from me?”

“I’ve dealt with bigger snakes than him. You don’t need to worry about--”

“But I did,” he cuts her off. “The entire time I was gone. All fifty-six days.” His eyes drop from hers, going instead to his glass and feigning interest in it. “Some reset, hmm?”

She should walk away; bid her goodbyes and return to Kyra’s side, let him walk out the door and move onto the next gallery. Let him have his reset. But, then again, she’s never been able to leave well enough alone.

So, instead, she tucks her arm up into his. Her offending elbow nudges his side.

“Come on. I’m tired of staring at this.”

Ethan gives the piece a look over his shoulder as they continue into the space. “It is a rather… visually-challenging take on mixed media.”

“See? I’ve circled this place four times and don’t understand what I’m supposed to be looking at. You’re just the man I need.”

“Then, by all means, lead on.”

By the near-end of their excursion through the gallery, Sloane learns more art terms than she did in the one art history class she mistakenly took in undergrad. The one that she barely passed, though she doesn’t mention that particular detail when Ethan asks.

Art is something she appreciates as one would appreciate good food -- she doesn’t have to know every ingredient in it to enjoy the taste. Ethan, as he is inclined to do, argues against her logic, claiming that knowledge behind every brush stroke (and, thus, every pinch of minced garlic, if we’re using food as a comparison, he added with a sigh) makes the artwork that much more meaningful (and, thus, tastier).

“It’s a moving piece that calls back to the Impressionist period,” he tells her, as if the third time’s the charm, and suddenly she’ll be awestruck by the boring landscape before them.

“It looks like something that would be bolted above the bed at a Best Western.”

He barks out a laugh at her comment, quickly smothering it when it draws attention from the other art patrons. They move away from the Monet copycat and down a long hallway, where a selection of lackluster acrylic paintings hang in a row. Sloane can feel her eyes glaze over as she examines them.

It’s no wonder that there’s no one near this end of the gallery. The conversations that reach them are muffled, just the droning buzz of voices. Not even the contemporary jazz music is piped down this far, leaving only the creaking floorboards and their own footsteps to accompany them. They reach the end of the hall, where a little table holds a handful of empty plates and glasses, abandoned by those that came before them.

Above the table is a painting of a woman. Draped around her shoulders is a red robe, patterned with messy strokes of amber-colored flowers. Her short, dark curls are pinned back, showing off the strong line of her jaw and the soft contour of her lips. Her right hand is raised, her fingers curled towards herself, as if beckoning to someone out of frame. Her eyes are closed, her head tilted up as she waits for her kiss.

“She’s hot,” Sloane blurts out.

Ethan raises an eyebrow at her blunt summary of the artwork, though he concedes with a nod. “She is rather lovely.”

“It’s kind of weird, though,” she steps closer and scans the woman’s face. “She reminds me of a woman I went on a date with.”

“Oh. When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Oh,” he repeats, but his tone is different this time.

Sloane looks him over, unable to suppress her grin. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he says, then grimaces. “Maybe. Yes. Of course I am.”

“You shouldn’t be. Her name is Reese -- she’s a pediatric surgeon over at Children’s. Very attractive, great work ethic, good kisser, cute dog.”

“I fail to see how you reciting all of her best qualities is preventing me from feeling jeal--”

“Simple,” she interrupts. “No spark.”

“Not one?”

Sloane tips her head from side to side, pursing her lips as she considers. “Okay, maybe a little one. Not enough for a fire, though.”

The quiet of the hallway hovers between them as they gaze up at the painting. The placard hanging next to it lists the artist and the artwork’s title: la voglia.

“Is that Italian?”

“It means ‘the wanting.’” He tips back his glass and swallows the last of his wine. Liquid courage, and all that. “What about… us?”

“Hmm?” The question pulls her from her study of the painting.

“What was our ‘spark’ level?”

“Oh, we were a bonfire.”

“I see,” he says, his eyes blazing as he watches her. Sloane bites down on her bottom lip. His gaze flickers down to watch the movement; the flame that’s been simmering in her stomach all evening ignites under the attention.

“Did you want to kiss me?” she asks. “The other night at Donahue’s?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to kiss me now?”

“Yes.”

“I wish you would.”

The loud clink of his glass meeting the table is lost under the sound of his footsteps crossing the few feet between them. His hands come up to frame her face and his lips crash against hers. Her glass smacks against the table from where she hastily drops it; wine sloshes and drips down onto the floor. Sloane ignores the mess in favor of grabbing any part of him she can reach and pulling him close. Ethan breaks the kiss to surface for air, moving his hands to her waist; she adjusts her grip to his tie and yanks him down for another kiss, tilting her head to deepen it. Pleasure hums through her as she teases his lips to open for her, sweeping her tongue against his own.

Her back hits the wall; funny, because she doesn’t recall moving at all. The rough brick catches at her blouse and hair as she tilts her head up and arches her back, offering more of herself for him to explore.

“Sloane,” he hisses, trailing Syrah-soaked kisses along her throat and up behind her ear. He nips at the soft skin there, the marks hidden behind the curtain of her hair that he wraps around his hand and tugs. The moan tumbles out of her before she can swallow it down. “I can’t decide what I missed more,” he says with a smirk. “Your touch, or those sweet noises you make for me.”

“Can I tell you what I missed most?”

He pulls back to look down at her, blue eyes alight with arousal. “I’m all ears.”

Flashing a smug grin, she shifts to put her leg between both of his and brings it up as high as her skirt will allow. She rubs her knee against his thigh, and then higher, smirking when he growls out her name.

“That,” she tells him.

Ethan shakes his head at her as he grabs the offending leg and wraps it around his hip. She retaliates by hauling him closer and rolling her hips up to tease him.

“Sloane--”

“Yes?”

“We can’t… not here. Someone could come down the hallway any moment.”

“I know,” she purrs, running her nails through his beard, pleased at his sharp inhale. “We should go somewhere more private.”

“We… my apartment, it’s not too--”

“I’m not sitting through that forty-minute taxi ride you call a commute. I can’t wait.” She brings her hand down and presses it against the swell of his visible arousal. He emits a helpless groan at her touch. “And neither can you.”

“What do you have in mind, then?”

Her only response is another grin that he meets with a look of worried confusion. She decides that she likes the look, especially when she gets to watch the understanding dawn on his face as she guides him to the open door of a nearby stockroom.

Sloane kicks the door closed and locks it behind them, smacking Ethan’s hand away from the lightswitch. Warm light from the street lamps outside pours down out of a high window, diffused with the multicolored strobes of the nightclub across the alley. Shelves of cleaning supplies crowd in next to a pile of stanchions and a stack of easels. The bass from next door thrums along the brick walls, rattling the glassware that’s tucked away in the cabinets. The countertop underneath them glows red from the club lights.

Ethan picks her up easily and sets her on the counter. The laminate is cool under her heated skin, causing a shiver to course through her. His hand curves around her throat, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip. His breath turns ragged when Sloane turns her head in his hold and takes his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the digit before releasing him with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Let me see more of you.”

She reaches down and untucks her blouse while he attacks the pearl buttons, popping them open and pushing the cloth from her shoulders, chuckling at her threat of injury should he ruin her shirt. The cool air of the stockroom is soon replaced by his warm breath as he drags kisses down her chest; unhurried and uncaring of her complaints as he takes his sweet time.

“Ethan--” the rest of her complaint is lost to time as his mouth closes over the lacey fabric of her bra. His tongue traces the peak of her nipple, over one breast and then the other. She drags her nails through his hair and grips the strands tight, begging him to never stop kissing her.

In true fashion, he does stop and flashes her a self-satisfied smirk before dropping to his knees. Hauling her closer, he shoves her skirt up, the fabric bunching around her waist. She waits with bated breath, trembling slightly with anticipation, so sure that he won’t bother to tease her now, not when she’s--

“You bastard,” she croaks out when he starts further south than she wants.

That smarmy chuckle of his is somehow deeper than the nightclub’s bass; he ignores her insult and continues tracing wet kisses along the curve of her leg. His beard scratches at her knee as he makes his way up, higher and higher, until he’s so close that the puff of his breath is nearly enough to set her off.

“You’re one to talk,” he says, tilting his chin to let his beard scrape at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “If I’d known you weren’t wearing anything under this skirt, we would have been here hours ago.”

She opens her mouth to serve him something snarky right back, but he chooses then to press the flat of his tongue against her and lick a long stripe up her sex. The noise that escapes her isn’t anything close to the English language. With one hand holding her leg up to keep them spread, he uses his other to slide two fingers into her wet heat. The pace he sets is punishing; Sloane barely manages to reach up and grab at the cabinet handles behind her head, holding on for dear life. The warm heat in her belly flows outward into her limbs, burning through her veins; her hips make aborted little thrusts into his mouth as his tongue works her open.

“Oh, god, oh -- god, Ethan!” she cries out. Then his thumb finds her clit and she’s a goner. Her legs snap closed, holding him there as she rides out the wave of her orgasm. Escaping from her hold, he gets to his feet and steps between her splayed legs. He cups her chin and coaxes her up to meet him for a kiss.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Sloane works at his belt buckle, the leather creaking under her grip as she yanks it from the loops and throws it to the ground.

“I don’t think you needed to--”

“Shut up,” she orders, covering her mouth with his. For once, he listens, kissing the fuck out of her while she pops the button on his pants and dips her hand inside his underwear. His breath catches and his head drops to her bare shoulder, his hips thrusting up into her touch. Heady pants sound against her ear, spurring her on.

The hand not splayed against the cabinet above her head disappears between her legs and palms her sex, rubbing circles against her there. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, “god, touch me.”

“Do I…” he starts, then stops, choking back a groan as her wrist gives a little twist. “Do we need…?”

Through the thick fog of oxytocin clouding her brain, Sloane catches on to his fumbling attempts. To give him the chance to form a coherent thought, she lets go of his cock, busying her hands by skimming them up his body and underneath the button-down he still wears.

“I presume you got every test in the book before being let back into the country,” she says. “And my IUD is still in working order. And, besides that, I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

He shifts to look down into her eyes. By the primal glaze covering his own, it’s obvious to her that the notion pleases him.

“Not even with the surgeon with the great work ethic and the cute dog?”

Stretching up, she captures his lips with her own -- mostly to shut him up again, having found the technique rather effective.

“Like I told you: no spark. Now, if you can get over your jealous streak and--”

“I’m not jealous,” he protests while still grabbing her knees and tugging her that much closer.

“You so totally are,” she laughs as she wraps her legs around his hips. Her knuckles scrape against the cabinet when he forces her hands up beside her head; she links her fingers through his, holding him there.

“Not anymore.” A wolfish grin spreads across his face before he drives into her.

Any chance of continuing their banter is lost to the heat between them. His hips crash down into hers; her legs quake around his. Their chests heave with every breath, their kisses little more than frenzied brushes as the flare of pleasure grows and grows, burning white-hot under their skin.

Ethan drops one hand to where they’re joined and passes once, then twice over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her body arches as the delicious, surprising heat of her orgasm courses through her. Unable to withstand the rhythmic clenching of her, he follows, muffling his shout by burying his face against her throat.

“How was that?” he asks once the ability of speech returns. Despite the sweaty mess of each other they’ve made, he nuzzles close, sighing when she wraps her arms around him.

“A house fire.”

Though it defies all laws of medicine and the universe, she can somehow hear the frown of consideration he wears.

“I was thinking forest.”

“Okay,” she concedes. “That works too.”

From somewhere in the dark room comes a buzzing sound. Before she can seriously consider whether or not her orgasm did knock her hearing out-of-whack, Ethan scoops her phone up from the floor.

A stack of missed texts from Kyra fills up her screen:

6:28 pm: come back there’s a hot girl I want you to see

6:28 pm: she’s a sculptor and welds and has tattoos please i’m weak

6:43 pm: where did you gooo

7:02 pm: if you left because of the creepo photographer let me know and I’ll kick his ass

7:04 pm: creepo says he never saw you which i DO NOT believe considering how hot you look tonight

7:39 pm: Lmao nvm

7:39 pm: you are the least subtle person i know but no worries i’ve got your back

7:40 pm: I trust that doctor ramsey can take care of your front ;)

8:24 pm: Devon the hot welder you missed out on meeting is going to help me w paintings and then take me out for a drink. make good choices!! text if you need anything love you

“What are those little pictographs next to her name?”

Sloane glances down at the tiny flexing bicep and pink heart next to Kyra’s name and rolls her eyes.

“This grumpy, outdated persona of yours can only go on for so long, you know. You did grow up during the birth of AOL and AIM. You’re not a Luddite.” She hops down from the counter and taps out a reply to her friend before buttoning up her blouse. “Besides, you know it’s rude to look at people’s messages, right?”

A red flush returns to his cheeks, though he tries to hide it by crossing the room to switch on the light and searching for his belt.

“Well, I had to make sure it wasn’t the pediatric surgeon, offering to take you out again.”

Sloane lets out a snort, her attention on her reflection in the mirror propped up against the back wall. “We both know by now that there’s only one persistent, albeit indecisive and general pain-in-the-ass doctor that has my attention.”

Ethan, having finished putting himself together, approaches her from behind. His hands slip in underneath her hair to fix her collar. She catches his eye in their reflection; he drops a kiss against her temple.

“Come home with me.”

“That would go against all of those parameters you set up,” she reminds him.

“I know. So did this.” If his tone is a little lost, a little unsure, she doesn’t mention it. “Come home with me,” he repeats.

“Okay.”

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

Hello, and welcome back to the sin bin.

Please no art lectures. Everything in this was either prior knowledge, googled to the best of my ability, or from recalling friends who were art majors in college bitch about said major. The painting of the woman they discuss is based off of Albert von Keller’s Anticipation. (Sloane’s right; she’s hot.)

Also, if anyone can tell me if I used the correct ‘desire’ in Italian, please let me know. I couldn’t find anything that said I should use la brama instead of la voglia, so I used the latter. (special thank you to @uncagedwings for the vocab assist!)

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart #choices #f: distracted art appreciation #Kaila writes things #this story is like half trashing fictional art and half sex #hope that's somebody's cup of tea

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freyaeu · 3 years

Text

HALSTON SAGE. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, FREYA ANDERSON-SMITH is actually a descendent of K H I O N E. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-FOUR year old KINESIOLOGY MAJOR from COPENHAGEN, DENMARK has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite GRACEFUL & SHELTERED.

hello, hello, beautiful friends ! i still need to figure out more things for freya but here’s her bio which i should have really just really written out bc i said it’d be short and sweet and my brain said, i think not ! anyway, i’m super excited to plot with everyone ♡

she knows that there was an entirely different life that she led before she was taken in by her adoptive father, she just doesn’t remember much of it.

memories come back in snippets — like the little cottage nestled in the mountains with the beautiful lake up the hill. or man with the warm smile who she called papa. she remembers the tea parties during the summer and snowball fights in the winters. but most of all, she can still hear the sound of ice crackling beneath her feet as she tried to run across the lake before falling in. how cold she felt as her body hit the water before she felt embraced by the icy temperature and everything turned black.

that aside, her ‘earliest’ memory is being cradling by khione. her icy skin providing comfort as she mused about a brand new life in a place far from the one she had known so far with a new father and a brother who would love her very much. ( the latter is to be debated ).

‘a gift’ was what she called freya when she introduced her to her new family. the hold khione still had over alexander anderson-smith being one so powerful that he didn’t even question who the small child hiding behind khione’s leg was or where she came from. he welcomed her with open arms, believing that the goddess still loved him because why else would he have entrusted her with another demigod?

while she had an extremely affluent upbringing, she didn’t rot from how spoiled she was. she always remained levelheaded, never letting such a luxurious life get to her head. perhaps because of this, she was always seen as the ‘white sheep’ — she was soft like snow, not cold as ice. while her entire family ( goddess mother included ) used whatever mean was necessary to stay on top, freya was always perfectly fine just being freya.

along with her brother, she grew up in one of copenhagen’s most elite hotels — the penthouse, to be exact, and one rarely spent any time in. while to others, the most luxurious suite in the hotel would have been anyone’s dream getaway, to her it resembled a very fancy prison cell.

instead, she’d often sneak out as a kid, watching from afar at the different gala’s that would take place in the ballroom or sneaking into the hotel kitchen for a snack. as the daughter of the hotel’s owner, there was nothing anyone could to stop her. especially considering how much of a daddy’s girl she was. freya may not have done or said anything had anyone complained but it didn’t mean alexander wouldn’t have had reacted badly.

as she grew older, her adventures in the hotel became more specific. spending hours on end learning how to cook from the best chef’s around to spending her time working on homework next to the concierge’s desk as she waited for guests to walk up for suggestions of the best places around town.

the older she got, the more people whispered about her in disapproval. she was the ‘weird’ girl who stayed after social events to help the staff out, the one who at parties sat in the corner of the room with a book stuck in her nose, the one who didn’t care about status or reputation.

while she participated in things like the debutante ball and summer camp, she only did so to please her father. as much as he wanted her to be as cutthroat as nicolai, there was an unspoken understanding that freya was interested in marching at the beat of her own drum and doing things her way.

this became evident when he pushed them to start properly developing and advancing their powers. freya, being a child, didn’t take things seriously. it was the first time and last time he ever made her cry and the only time he took the treasure chest full of books she cherished away.

by the time khione came back once again demanding they get proper training, freya was curious to say the least. camp with other demigod kids? it sounded cool enough. which it definitely was though her interests aligned more with learning as much as she could about the camp and other gods rather than training.

shortly after freya’s arrival, the two demigod’s gained a step-mom and their mutual dislike for the woman is perhaps one of the very few things they have in common til this day. freya can’t stand her. while she chooses to look the other way in regards to her father and nicolai’s behavior, the same can’t be said for her. she may not approve of how they act but love and blood connects her to them. the step-mom? no connection there.

while she excelled academically, the same couldn’t be said about her social life. despite the influence her father had, not even he could save her from falling to the bottom of the social food chain. her indifference toward the status she had due to her last name caused many to be both envious and dumbfounded at how she didn’t take advantage of it. she was pretty and rich, why didn’t she care?

the answer to that was simple, she had better things to do — when alexander came up with the idea to create a training center for his kiddos, he included a rink because children of the goddess of ice and snow~~ well, to no one’s surprise, that caught freya’s interest. despite the traumatic ( and mainly repressed ) event that happened on the ice, freya absolutely loved being on the ice. at first, it became her incentive to train, being able to spends hours afterward skating around the rink. then, alexander noticed her talent, bringing in the best coaches money could ensure she’d become the absolute best.

what started out as a fun pastime turned competitive soon after with freya spending hours in the rink, diving her time between figure skating and school. when she wasn’t training or competing, she was studying.

it wasn’t long before she became one of the most promising individual junior skaters, always placing within the top five and very easily a fan favorite. by the time she hit senior-level, it was evident that she was on her way to the olympics.

she made it as far as placing silver two years in a row in the world championships before it all came crashing down. after performing the best she’d ever done, she ( and everyone else ) were sure she’d take gold in the ladies individual’s section. to her absolute shock, she didn’t and highkey had a mini freakout moment with her ire directed at the gold medalist who she believed stole her spot. it was the one time she used her powers intentionally to hurt a mortal. the girl was fine in the end but freya still feels absolutely bad about it. she retired that same year and decided to focus on academics instead.

which is how she ended up at eonia. it was definitely a huge adjustment at first. not only did she let go of something she’d done for a little over ten years but she also said goodbye to the home she’d known since she was four. it took a second for her to settle but in the end, she found herself straying away from the sheltered routine she’d grown so accustomed from.

at least that’s what she tells herself. honestly, while she did spread her wings a little more in terms of discovering new things, she’s stuck to the same routine upon finding her rhythm. she’s extremely predictable like that.

she’s currently a graduate student in the medicine program and completed her undergrad in chemistry.

#euintro

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oh-mother-of-darkness · 4 years

Note

hello this isnt abt batfam or batman but i saw your age and was wondering how do i survive till 23? i am 18 now and 5 more years is very hard to survive please help

Interesting question. I turn 24 in ten days, and sometimes even I’m not sure. I guess I’ll talk about how I personally stayed alive this long before I try to give advice.

The very first thing I would say is that I am religious, and that worldview makes a difference. I don’t mean that in a “everything happens for a reason” kind of way, and as a matter of fact, I very much dislike that line of thinking. It does a lot of damage, and I’m aware that it rightly puts a lot of people off from religion in general.

I hold two beliefs that I think are helpful in terms of survival. First, I believe that humans are by nature bad. Counterintuitive in this conversation? Stick with me. Every day, but especially at my lowest moments, I hate the things that I am. In a metaphorical sense, my mind whispers to me that I am selfish, that I am cowardly, that I think bad things and I am capable of worse. I’m hateful, I’m terrifying, and I am absolutely broken. At my core, there is something fundamentally wrong, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix it.

I am disgusting. I’m several thousand evil things in a trench-coat pretending to be anything but myself, and I’m not fooling anyone.

Well, yeah. Yeah, I’m all those things and more: manipulative, lying, self-obsessed, angry, unforgiving, and judgmental. I could, of course, go on.

Here’s the thing-- everybody is. I am no better and no worse than any other person in the universe, and though I am ever abhorrent thing, I am. I have the same dignity, the same worth, and the same life as any human anywhere. The dark things are part and parcel of my humanity, but although I am not good, I do good.

I will never be perfect because that just isn’t possible, but I can be kind. I can be loving, I can be strong, and I can be wise.

Shit, doesn’t that set me free?

There’s a lot more to this conversation, and the rest goes, in brief, like this: at the bottom of the darkness that is every soul, we have one great fear-- if I am truly evil, no one will ever love me. Good news on that front, there is a God who does. If that’s something you want to talk about, hey hit me up. I’ll evangelize on my own time.

Back to it. My second belief is a kind of understanding about the passage of time, and it’s sort of hard to boil down into a few sentences, but I’ll try my best. I believe in a grand struggle between good and evil. I know the beginning of that struggle. I know the end of that struggle: that good will win. I am a part of the middle.

I see my role in the universe as extraordinary small but absolutely necessary. I have a two-fold purpose-- love God, love humans. I interpret both as a call to help others in any way I can, and I think in the way my life has worked out so far, that’s really the most important thing keeping me alive.

I see all of this through the frame of my religion, but I would argue that everything I’ve said so far is applicable outside of that frame, because a lot of folks get to the same place from a fully secular point of view. I cannot be perfect. I should care about and fight for other people. That’s really all we’re working from here.

A few years back, when people asked me this question-- how do you stay alive?-- I used to answer “spite,” and that’s not untrue. I am a very angry person, and the grand majority of that anger is directed at what I perceive as unjust acts. I have a deep-seated hatred of establishments (including the established church), and you’d be shocked at how much of a motivator that can be.

I grew up in an environment that was very intentional in teaching me to identify injustice. Though I have radically departed from many of the teachings of my childhood, the part about fighting for others was something I learned at day one, and that bit has stuck around. For the most part, I grew up in an environment where everyone was on the same page about it.

And theeeeeeen I went to undergrad. Hello, Texas A&M. I hit campus as an 18 year old fully incapacitated by anxiety. I was the kind of person who didn’t-- in fact couldn’t-- speak in front of others. I had always lived my life in a way that minimized myself, because if I never spoke, if I never disagreed, if I never drew attention, I would never make anyone angry. I knew from experience that angry people hurt me, and I was afraid of pain.

Then I experienced the absolute shenaniganry of conservative Texans. The culture shock sent me to space and back, and on the return trip I decided that I couldn’t be quiet anymore.

I learned to speak my freshman year so that I could scream FUCK YOU. It was incredibly painful, and I can’t tell you exactly how I managed it other than I was angry, and I didn’t want to lose.

I fought a similar battle on my homefront against parents that didn’t know how to deal with a daughter that disagreed, or even worse, a daughter that wasn’t okay. I wasn’t a perfect child anymore. I knew I had anxiety, I knew I was depressed, and we all knew who I blamed for that. They hadn’t been the perfect parents they thought they were.

I found myself growing, little by little, into a person that could write and argue and hold her ground. That’s personal growth for sure, but it didn’t necessarily help my mental health. As a matter of fact, my health declined all through undergrad, and in my third and final year, I cracked.

I was desperate. I was isolated. I was flooded by fear and despair, and I was falling apart. I don’t remember huge chunks of undergrad because I was so depressed that the memories didn’t stick, but I do remember my tipping point.

It was something small. The ceiling fan in my bedroom was broken. The lighting chain worked fine, but if anyone pulled the fan chain, the whole thing would stop working. I mixed up which chain was which, pulled the wrong cord, and broke it for the fourth time.

For some reason, that was it. I lay down on my floor and cried for an hour, and while I did, my mind went to, as the kids say, a dark place. Finally, I called my mom and begged for psychiatric medication, something I had always been afraid to ask for. At the time, my parents believed that antidepressants were overprescribed, and they mocked parents that let their children take them.

At around the same time, I was deciding what to do with my life. I was about to graduate, and I had always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Instead, everyone in my life pushed me towards law school. I didn’t know what to do, but I began fantasizing, not about going to law school exactly, but about being the kind of person that could go to law school.

I knew that law school would be entail public speaking and constant conflict and the kind of work that would be hard for a person who sometimes couldn’t leave her bed. I wanted to be someone who could do all of that, but I didn’t believe I was.

Enter Donald Trump. Post-November 2016, I struggled to understand how something like that could happen, and I watched everyone else deal with it too. I began confused, moved to distraught, then returned to what I always am: angry.

January 2017 was the inauguration and shortly afterwards, the “Muslim ban.” I read the news on my bedroom floor, and there was one specific part that stuck out to me. There were pictures of lawyers flooding the airports. There was a court case headed for SCOTUS.

I suddenly realized that one group-- one very select group-- was doing what I was powerless to accomplish. I hated establishments, and there was one group that could challenge and change them. Some people could fight in the way I wanted to, and those people were lawyers.

I have a very distinct memory of looking into the bathroom mirror of my third-year apartment and thinking, “I will be miserable for the rest of my life, no matter what I do or what career I pick. I might as well be a miserable lawyer.”

So I took my antidepressants and I went to law school. I’m not going to rehash everything that happened there in this particular post, because in this topic, I don’t think it matters. The relevant part is that I went, and I had my reason why.

Sure as hell can tell you that law school wasn’t good for my health. The last three years have been, in terms of sheer stress and despair, the worst of my life. I picked up a self-harm habit, endured consistent humiliation, cycled through six different antidepressants, had horrible relationships, and developed a psychotic disorder. Don’t get me wrong, there were good things too. I met people that are important me, and beyond that, I grew.

I know that 18 year old me would be absolutely flabbergasted by the woman I am now, cracks and flaws included. I wouldn’t say I’m healthy or okay, but I am more healthy and more okay. I’m coming out of this mess with the institutional power I wanted, and now I get to decide what to do with it.

I was wrong three years ago when I looked in that bathroom mirror. I know now that I won’t be miserable for the rest of my life. I’m going to be happy someday, and to the parts of me that say otherwise: fuck you. I’ve learned to say it now.

I graduated law school this week, and this month, I’ve felt better than I ever have before. I’m singing again, I dropped two medications, and suddenly, everything is so, so funny. I’ve been laughing so hard my face hurts the day after.

This is a huge turning point in my life, so I’ve been meditating on my past. I’ve come to the conclusion that in most of the ways that matter, I won. My family has been forced to accept what I am. I became the person I wanted to be, even though I thought I wasn’t capable of that.

I know for sure that there will be times in my life where I hit rock bottom again, and that’s not gonna be fun. It’s likely that with my mental health issues, I will always have to work harder than my peers to get the same results. That’s unfair.

I also know that high points exist, and I will have them. I am having them, and I will again.

I guess in recap, I know that I have deep flaws and ugly parts, but I am at peace with that. I know that I must help others, and in pursuit of that goal, I became a person I like more than the girl I used to be.

You have exactly the same potential. I want you to know that whatever you are now, that’s not your forever. Circumstances change, and you will change too. We’re human, you and I, and that’s an exciting thing to be.

Your worth comes from your humanity itself, both evil and good, not the things you do or the fights you win. You never have to compare yourself to others because you are exactly the same as everybody else-- no better, but certainly no worse. You’re a person. That’s enough.

I’m telling you all those things, and as advice, I’ll say this: get angry and fight. Fight for others. You can help them, and you should. Fight for yourself. You are worthy of respect, and everyone else should give it to you. Fight yourself. Any part of you that preaches despair is wrong.

Find the thing that makes you angry and use it. Things are fucked up! There’s a lot to be angry about. I put it this way to my classmates, now my attorney peers: you get one hill to die on. What’s your hill? Go and defend it.

Here’s an interesting thing, anon. Your hill can be yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re right. Five years is a lot, and all the years beyond that are more. Take your antidepressants and go.

#anyway here's a fucking autobiography I guess #let's see what to tag what to tag #religion #christianity #suicide #suicidal thoughts #suicidal ideation #asks #personal i guess #wait I thought of more #self harm #american politics #if the read more on this post doesn't work again I'm rioting #been having that glitch lately

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ih8paris · 3 years

Text

i hate paris

Do people still use tumblr? I’m so old. And I never used it. I don’t keep up with the times. I don’t give a shit. You know what? It all passes. Except facebook. They made a deal with the devil and really, was it worth it? I use facebook. I live in Paris and there are these groups for women, expats, cheap people like me that want free yoga. That’s what I use it for. And news. BBC CNN ABC NBC MSNBC, you get it and the posts. They report what the people supposedly want, but then we can see what the people are actually saying. Donald Trump won’t win? Look at voices talking? Look at the little people. It looked like he was going to win. What do you know, he did. But what if he had lost. What if Hilary didn’t get a handle on COVID and then Donald won in 2020? We would all be so fucked right now. Maybe we already are. Anyway, I’m not here to talk politics. I’m here to process my life choices and see if there were signs that I was making HUGE mistake.

So here’s the thing. I’m a bit untraditional. Growing up was shit. Chuck left and made sure to shit all over everything before he did. And the whole get married in your 20′s have babies get divorced get remarried have more kids bc hey you’re not old at 30 and this is the guy you actually wanted to have kids with. I rant but you get it. Traditional not for me. Also not traditional, i have some money. This money has paid for college, pastry school and yes this wonderful covid filled experience in paris: the city that hates me. I’m fortunate. I don’t live lavishly. It’s not that much money. I grew up poor, I pinch pennies. Then i do exciting things. Or maybe challenging things? I am fortunate and grateful. And guilt filled. I am given this gift and shit it away, trying make something out of this paris experience. It’s like a bad relationship where i keep begging to give it one more change. It will get better. I’m a fucking idiot. So here I am, you know third times the charm, right? Back in paris. Vaccinated. I’ve made connections with people. I feel confident that this will not be a waste. It will be fun. It will be educational. I will network. Gain experiences. Omg learn so much. Be able to travel. OH the hopes and delusions i had. But maybe we should start from the beginning.

Omg, which beginning. Paris, i guess, we can go back further when the moment calls. So 30 is approaching. I’ve moved back home. That’s story for another time. Remember my life is not traditional. So I’m home to help out and idk try to figure out what the fuck i want to do with my life. See the big mistake i made in my 20s was listening to people i don’t admire. i graduate with an art degree. my college exit interview said i am qualified to work at a bank or Kraft foods. no connects, recommendations. No direct. And my family keeps talking about getting a job, benefits, 401k. At one point a little later on, my grandpa was pushing for me to go into service. Sorry gramps, they don’t want me. My education was good. I learned a lot. They had good resources and a lot. But then nothings. So i worked at a bakery. I worked hard at this bakery. For more than a few months i worked 7 days a week. I didn’t have a life. i had money. Money i made. And apparently that was the most important thing, from the talks i keep getting from my family. And of course i wasn’t earning enough, so needed to work harder and climb the ladder. There is no ladder in a bakery. Whatever, I rant again. We’ll come back to this.

So 30. It’s looming. I’ve thought about grad school. The money I mentioned earlier. It’s had time to grow. The GRE expires after 5 years, not that i took it but 7 years after I graduated, i wasn’t taking it. So Europe. Europe is artsy. I would like to make good money, enjoy the work okay, but mostly make good money with the least amount of actual work. So teaching. My mom teaches. Computer programing. She’s the head of the department. She fucking hates it. The dude that was suppose to get that job, he died. It was sad. But they also didn’t replace him so when the other guy retired, it became her job. It was an unpleasant 10ish years. But again, I digress. So teaching. Work hard and play hard. And it’s always changing - ish. I guess as much as you want, or don’t. New students every 15 weeks. breaks at all the holidays. Summers off. And when you’re just about to get bored, you’re back at work. Maybe because this is the only lifestyle i know, but it doesn’t sound bad. I worked in an office of women in high school. That i for sure knew i never wanted. But teaching. College. Okay. I need a masters. Learn about MA and MFA. Start looking for jobs in Cali because life’s too short to fucking deal with the snow and mosquitos. Idk everyone doesn’t live in Cali. So now the plan is MFA. They are much more rare and more in demand at universities. More money - but this time i think chasing the money necessary bc Calif = expensive. Now back to looking in Europe. I love Italy. I would love to live in in Italy for more that just a semester but actually live Italian or close to it. The language makes sense. The people make sense. The art makes sense. And it’s omg gorgeous. Alas, no American accredited MFA programs I could qualify for in Italy. I don’t know if there were none but if there were, they would have been in textiles, or digital/graphic design. Which I don’t know anything about. I’m old school, metal work, drawing, printmaking - although so far we haven’t gotten along, another thing i going to try to make work before i leave this city that hates me, for good - painting, ceramics, you get it. I hate computers. I appreciate technology but my mom teaches computers therefore there was never a working computer in my house so we (my brothers and me) don’t do computers. So i find this school - in english and in Paris. Paris, so glamorous. Home of famous artists and their art. The Louvre and Eiffel Tower and Fashion. So okay, i check out their programs. One i have no fucking clue what it is. Still don’t. Another is Photography - pass. Graphics - no. List continues. Then i see Drawing. That’s interesting. I can draw, i draw well. This is a program i could probably get into. SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: you can get into any program. No program is ever full. It’s bull shit. Masters program. Undergrad = everyone is applying at the same time. Masters = ages range and much fewer people go. So don’t fall for that shit - EVER.

They have a one year and two year program. The second year is less than half the first year so makes sense to go the second year and get the MFA vs MA. So that works out. I’m reading and checking it out. Not sure what I’m looking for but in hindsight, i knew something was missing. Talk it over with my mom and her peers who are also teachers. Consensus - don’t be part of the first group. So i have an interview to get it - what a joke. It is also a time for me to learn more about the program. So i ask, is this new? How long has it been around. Answer: Oh no, it’s been working several years. Very confident. I didn’t have a follow-up, just said I don’t want to be in the first group. I said those words. Her response: Oh no no don’t worry. I was so naive. And yes this continued through the whole program. People’s personalities are what they are. So she lied to get me into the program and just kept lying. No respect for the insane about of money i was paying for this ‘experience’. No respect for the education i could have gotten somewhere else. Because this program had NO educational value. I’m not being bitter or dramatic. It was a complete waste of time and money. Then covid happened. Might have been a blessing in disguise. I can go into detail of the program later. This is just an overview of the beginning.

So, I get accepted. What a surprise. I’m now officially 30 and this - i feel- is my last hoorah. After this i will be an adult who can get an adult job and become an adult. But first i need housing. And a visa. Which is very confusing. So the French and Italians - Italians I am familiar with, tell you about it later. So they’re similar in that lazy, lack of thoroughness, that’s their thing. Difference being Italians own it, French hardcore deny. So I’m reading this paperwork and it says thing like you need to have all your documents before your visa appointment including plane ticket. Well I can’t go without the visa so why would i get a plane ticket? Cart before the horse shit - it’s very french, wait until you hear about banks.

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embeanwrites · 4 years

Text

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 8

Masterlist

We pulled back into dad’s house. Walking back inside I immediately noticed Sumo was laying down with the old blanket dad was talking about earlier. He perked up the moment we walked in and started wagging his tail.

“He kept crying after you left, he’s a big softie.” My dad said through a mouthful of noodles. I smiled and walked over to pet Sumo and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sumo.” I said softly into his fur. I looked at the blanket. It was a faded blue and a lot smaller than I remembered it. Or maybe I was just a lot smaller in my memories with it. Sumo had chewed a few holes in it from carrying it around. After all these years, he hadn’t forgotten about me. I wondered if my dad ever took the blanket and thought about me. I sat next to my dad on the couch, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and stealing the container of noodles from him.

“Hey!” He yelled through a mouthful of food. I smiled.

“So, what are we watching?”

“You’re the guest, you pick.”

“Hmmm…Connor have you seen the original Muppet movie?” My dad laughed.

“That movie is older than me, (Y/n)!”

“I have not seen anything about ‘Muppets’.” Connor responded sitting down on the floor with Sumo. It was interesting, even though there was plenty of room on the couch he still chose to sit on the floor with Sumo.

“Then that’s what we’re watching. Everyone needs to watch the Muppets. If I could find a way to show it in my class, I totally would. Hey! Connor you could analyze it and see if there’s any way I could connect it to humans and androids or sociology!”

“Oh, your students must love having to watch old movies.” My dad snorted.

“Hey! I showed my class at (dream/school) ‘The Iron Giant’ and they loved it!”

“How on earth did you connect that?”

“Dad, it’s about a giant robot and people immediately assuming he was going to kill everyone, and, in the end, he was the hero. It’s literally perfect.” I laughed, grabbing the remote from the table and found the movie. I took my phone out of my pocket and placed it face down, so I wouldn’t get distracted. Clicking play I snuggled into the couch and continued eating.

“I'm Statler.

I'm Waldorf.

We're here to heckle

The Muppet Movie.”

“Why are some puppets and others human?” Connor asked, I looked over at him. He once again had tilted his head.

“They’re Muppets, Connor. And I wouldn’t question it too much, in the next movie they say a bear and a frog are twin brothers.” He furrowed his brow and kept his eyes intently on the movie.

As the movie went on, I couldn’t help but hum along to the songs. Muppets always felt like home. When I was younger, me, dad, and mom had a Muppet movie marathon on my birthday. I don’t remember much about what else we did, but I remember watching the movie and laughing with them. It was right before they got divorced. It was the last happy memory of all three of us I had.

Through the corner of my eye, I watched my dad move his foot to the music and laugh at the funny parts. I wondered if he remembered the last time we watched this together. I wondered if he ever watched them with Cole.

When the movie ended, I got up and stretched. Looking at the clock, I noticed it was only 7 pm.

“I’m going to change into my pajamas.” I said while picking up my backpack. “What room should I use?”

“You can use mine, it’s the one at the end of the hallway.” Connor said. I nodded and walked in.

The room had sparse decorations, which wasn’t too surprising. I could tell by what was on the walls that this must have been Cole’s room. I changed into sweatpants and a giant t-shirt, putting my dirty clothes in the bottom of my bag. I walked back out to find Connor putting a leash on Sumo and my dad cleaning up from dinner.

“Dang, Connor. If you had told me you were going to go walk Sumo I would’ve waited to change, so I could go with you!”

“I’m just taking him out for a couple of minutes. I will let you know the next time I plan on walking him. Come on, Sumo.” I smiled and walked over to my dad.

“Gun to my head, if you were to ask me if Hank Anderson would ever let an android live with him, I would say no way in a heartbeat.” My dad chuckled.

“Before Connor, I would’ve agreed.”

“What changed?”

“When we were hunting deviants, it was clear that they all just…wanted to be free. There were two girls that seemed to be truly in love. Connor’s mission was to bring in the deviants, but he had a gun trained on them and he let them go. I guess I just realized that humans and androids aren’t that much different.” I nodded as I kept my eyes on the front door.

“If you had read my articles you would’ve learned that sooner.” I said with a laugh.

“How did you know so early on?” I shuffled uncomfortably.

“I’m not really sure. It wasn’t one moment that made me realize. In undergrad I took a lot of sociology and history classes and I just kept seeing the same issues repeating over and over again. Humans have always had an “us vs them” mentality, so it was just the same thing we’ve seen since the earliest civilization.” My dad hummed.

“I don’t know how you got so smart. You certainly didn’t get that from me.” I laughed.

“I studied really hard and never stopped. Going into college I didn’t even know I was going to go to grad school and get my PhD. I just started learning and I never wanted to stop. Especially after I read about how some androids were being treated. I wanted to make a difference.” I sighed. “I’d like to think I’ve gotten most of my students outside their comfort zones and got them to accept androids as free beings, but I have a feeling that may be harder in Detroit.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you teach, but just by that statement I can tell you really care. Your students will see that too and that’ll get them to listen. There’s a reason everyone hates math, no one could be passionate about that.” I laughed. Connor walked back in with Sumo. The moment he unhooked his leash he came bounding over to me. “Man, he’s going to attack you every time he sees you.” I got on my knees and started petting him.

“Good, because I’ve missed him.” I scratched behind his ear and he thumbed his back leg. I got up and walked back over to the couch and stretched my legs out. Sumo followed me and laid down on the floor next to me, I reached over and grabbed my phone off the table. I checked my messages. A couple from friends back home. I bit my lip, debating if I should text Gavin. In the end I decided I had bothered him enough for one day.

“(Y/n), when did you want to go walk the rescue dogs?” Connor asked sitting next to my feet on the couch.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“He doesn’t, but I have too.” My dad grunted coming back to the living room.

“Why?” My dad shook his head.

“Captain Fowler is having the Lieutenant take some refresher classes and some of the detectives are getting together to discuss how android crime cases should be handled from now on.” I sat up.

“Is it an open meeting?” I asked my dad quickly.

“Not that I know of.” He answered.

“Hm…ask the Captain if I could possibly assist you guys with that. I know I’m not a police officer, but I understand a lot about androids and humans. I even minored in forensics in undergrad, but that was a while ago.”

“I’ll ask him, I think it’s a good idea. It wouldn’t hurt to get more opinions on how to handle it. The government is sure taking their sweet time coming up with laws covering everything.” I nodded in agreement. “Well, I’m gonna head to bed, read your book a little before sleeping. See you guys tomorrow.”

“Good night!” Me and Connor said at the same time. My dad kept walking and waved a little before going to his room and shutting the door. Still sitting up I looked at Connor. His LED was blue and looking at my backpack.

“I brought a scrapbook if you’d like me to show it to you.” I said gently, grabbing my bag.

“Will it cause you more emotional distress to look at it tonight?” He asked softly, causing me to laugh.

“No, Connor. This is filled with good memories.” I got the book out and moved closer to him, so the book sat on both of our legs. “This is me with my freshman orientation group. I was so scared that day. The campus felt so much bigger when I started living on it, but over time it felt smaller.” I kept flipping the pages stopping to explain some pictures.

“That is Officer Chen.” Connor said pointing to an old picture of me and Tina painting each other’s toenails. I smiled.

“Me and Tina have been friends for a long time, before she went to the police academy, she would come to my dorm room to crash.” I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture and sent it to Tina.

Look at these babies!

“Officer Chen is on duty right now. She may not respond right away.” I sat my phone down.

“I know, but she’ll see it eventually.” I flipped a couple more pages. There were pictures of graduation and friends.

“Who’s that?” Connor asked pointing to a picture of me with a KL900.

“Oh, during my research I interviewed some androids. She was designed for social work. It’s been so long, but I think her name is Lucy.” Connor’s LED flashed yellow.

“She died during the revolution.” I looked intently at the picture, remembering how kind she was.

“She was a really good person.” I clenched the book a little tighter. “I wish I could have done more during the revolution. I helped a couple of androids, but if I had been in Detroit maybe I could’ve done more.” Connor awkwardly patted my shoulder.

“You were safer outside of the city. Hank would be upset if you had gotten hurt.” I nodded, closing the book.

“Could we look at the rest some other time? There’s a few more androids and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear about their fate.”

“Of course. Are you going to bed?” I looked at my phone.

“Nah, it’s only 8. If I sleep now, I’ll mess up my sleep schedule even more and wake up at like 4 am. What do you want to do?”

“Would you like to watch the second Muppets movie?” I smiled.

“So, you liked the movie?” Connor smiled back.

“It was interesting. I enjoyed the fact that they knew it was a movie.”

“Well, the next one is ‘The Great Caper’, but that one’s probably my least favorite.”

“Is it essential to watch them in order?” Connor asked, tilting his head.

“God no, they’re a mess. Some of the ones that were made later have an order, but for the most part you can watch them in any order.”

“You can pick which one next.” I smiled widely.

“’The Muppets take Manhattan’, it is then!” I found the movie on the tv but waited to press play. “Hey, Connor. Sometimes you tilt your head a little. Is that in your programming or did you pick that up somewhere?”

“I was programmed to blend in with humans, it’s one of the few ‘quirks’ Cyberlife gave me, why?” I watched him, he looked as if he was about to tilt his head again but stopped himself causing me to chuckle.

“I’ve noticed you do it a lot and when Nines was in my office, he did it a couple times. I was wondering if you both were programmed to do that or if he picked it up from you.”

“I believe it is in both of our programming.” I nodded and clicked play on the movie. I patted the couch and Sumo jumped up next to me. “Sumo is not allowed on the couch.”

“It’s a special occasion, one night won’t hurt, Connor.” He frowned as his LED flashed yellow.

“It’s Friday night, there is no holiday today.”

“Exactly.” I said, turning my eyes to the movie. His LED changed back to blue as he sighed. He glanced at Sumo one more time, before finally starting to watch the movie.

“Together again

Gee, it's good

to be together again

I just can't imagine that

you've ever been gone

It's not starting over

It's just going on

Together again…”

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #hank anderson #connor is like a son to hank #connor has major little brother energy #rk800 #rk800connor #dbh #detroit become human #x reader #fan fiction #listen i just really love muppets

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superlinguo · 4 years

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Linguistics Jobs: Interview with a Software Engineer

Like today’s interviewee, Brooke Lynne Weaver, I worked through my undergrad degree. While not everybody is lucky enough to be able to do both study and work, it can be a useful way to develop skills beyond those in the classroom. I now use my coffee making skills only for self-caffeination, but cafe life taught me a lot about task prioritising and staying upbeat under pressure. Brooke used her work experience to move into Software Engineering, and uses her linguistics in her approach to her work, and her everyday life. Brooke is also on Twitter (@Milayou).

What did you study at university?

My degree is in English Language (Linguistics with an emphasis on the English language) from Brigham Young University in Utah, U.S.A. Basically, when we covered morphology, syntax, phonetics, phonology, sociolinguistics etc. it mostly focused on those applications in English, with some examples and work from other world languages. I also took a couple computer science classes and worked as a web developer while in school.

What is your job?

I'm a software engineer. Right now my job title is Platform Engineer, and at my last job it was Platform Architecture Engineer. I write code based on the needs of my company, which generally involves understanding the task you need the computer to perform autonomously, and doing a bunch of Googling to remind yourself (or learn) how to tell it to do that. You run the code, look for certain things to happen, tweak the code, run it again, look for different results, tweak it again, run it again etc. The ask from the company is generally as specific as humans tend to be, which is not nearly as specific as machines tend to be; you have to be on the lookout for instructions that should be given that were never expressly asked for by the company in order for everything to run smoothly. Our stack is mostly written in Python 2.7 but we're moving to Go, and the project I just finished up has parts written in both. It's really satisfying when you've finally communicated your message properly to the machine and it behaves accordingly.

I work for Vivint.SmartHome right now, doing home automation. I help the Vivint centralized system interact with peoples' homes and phones all over North America. When someone pulls up their Vivint app on their phone, it requests data from our platform. When they want to make changes to their smart home system, it interacts with our platform. Recently I've been helping migrate our Nest integration from using the (now deprecated) Works With Nest API to the new Google Home/Assistant API (a transition Google recently made public).

How does your linguistics training help you in your job?

I like to tell myself I went into translation, just between human and machine languages rather than from one human language to another. The things I learned studying linguistics help me in less obvious ways.

Knowing how flexible semantics is and how language changes so much across time and space, I feel like I'm a much better communicator than I was when I first started college. I'm a lot more flexible in interpretations and I care a lot more about getting to the root of what a person is trying to communicate, rather than what words they chose and what those words mean to me specifically. Communication is a pretty important part of writing software, because you're almost always trying to realize the ideas of other people. Knowing how to be confident you're on the same page as the people requesting your work is critical.

Linguistics also gave me a much better understanding for how important context is. I leave comments everywhere it makes sense to in order to help future engineers understand why I did certain things, which puts them in a better position to understand what to change down the line. It's very common to come across some code written a few years back that seems to make no sense at all (or seems like a bad way to do something), and if someone left a comment explaining why they wrote it that way at that time, you can better decide whether to leave it or in what ways to change it. The comment might say "Here's the current state of affairs and we need to do this weird thing to avoid this problem" and now, several years later, that problem is irrelevant or the current state of affairs has drastically changed; you might not need to do that thing in such a weird way anymore. You can then feel more confident about making your change. Or, maybe the state of affairs has not changed or the problem still exists and still needs to be avoided; you now have really important context and that weird thing might actually look logical now, or you know how to change it while still avoiding the problem it was originally trying to avoid. As an example, earlier this year I implemented a library I wasn't very familiar with in a pretty short amount of time. I left a comment explaining that if someone else was more comfortable with the library, they should feel free to rewrite it in a more idiomatic way; I explained what parts of it I wrote somewhat poorly due to lack of time and familiarity (something like "I know you should be able to do it like A, but I couldn't figure out how to get A to work so I did B instead which isn't as good but gives an acceptable result. It's not deliberately done this way for any other reason, so if you know how to do A, please change it."). A lot of times we try to change legacy code as little as possible, for fear of unknown downstream affects, because we weren't there when it was written and don't know why it was done the way it was; I hope by leaving context comments I can help future engineers feel more comfortable keeping the codebase clean and efficient.

Do you have any advice you wish someone had given to you about linguistics/careers/university?

I have some advice I was given that I think is valuable. I had a really hard time choosing a major field of study because I was interested in almost everything. A counselor reminded me that you can still have any hobby you like, regardless of what you study at university. I was afraid that by choosing something I was cutting myself off from other things, but that's not actually true. I still love playing the piano even though I didn't go into music, and I still love math even though I didn't go into mathematics.

Also, my university offered a lot of student jobs. These were jobs that were only allowed to be worked by students, which meant the barrier to entry was fairly low. I don't know if other universities offer student on-campus jobs, but if they do, I very much recommend them. I worked student jobs the entire time I was at school, which meant I graduated with seven years of work experience. Yes, it took me seven years to get my bachelor degree, but that work experience meant I had no trouble getting jobs after (and even before) I graduated. That said, maintaining a job while going to school is an awful lot of work and it's not the right path for everyone; everyone's situation is different, this just worked out well for me.

Any other thoughts or comments?

Besides how linguistics training helps me at work, it's made me a FAR better human. I'm a reformed pedant. I was really condescending and had a bit of a superiority complex about language when I was young. I was all about correcting and fixing people and being exasperated when people wrote or said things "wrong." Studying linguistics has given me a LOT of empathy and understanding and freed me from most of my pet peeves. My perspective on language and communication is so different now. I feel free. It's a far pleasanter experience to put your energy toward really understanding and being understood by a person than on looking down on people and discrediting their thoughts because they don't know how some dude in the 19th century wanted a part of English to work that doesn't even make sense anyway. I think a lot of unnecessary conflict comes from different groups of people having different understandings of certain words, and fighting over the definition of the word rather than over the real human issue at the heart of the debate. It would be nice if we taught language a little differently in schools, so more people could be aware of how semantic drift occurs and how different people can use the same word to mean different things, and that language change is okay and actually beautiful.

Recently:

Interview with a Product Manager

Interview with a Communications Specialist

Interview with a Learning Scientist

Interview with a Lexicographer

Interview with a Journalist

#language #linguistics #linguistics job #linguistics jobs #linguist jobs #lingjobs #careers #job #career #work

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adapembroke · 4 years

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Using Progressed Moon Phases to Understand Your Life

Progressed moon cycles are a powerful tool. I've done a lot of technical explaining in my series on progressions (#secondary progressions), but moon cycles are—more than any other progression—a way of seeing the overall shape of a life, and lives are best shared as stories.

So, I'm going to take you through my life step by step, showing how each phase of the moon cycle has reflected changes I've gone through as an individual.

Beginning

I was born two days before the Last Quarter moon phase, when the moon in Aquarius squared the sun in Taurus.

My first progressed New Moon happened when I was nine years old when the sun and moon were in my 10th house. This means that the 30 year cycle that followed was focused on my career.

If you could have placed bets on my career before I turned 9 years old, odds are good you would have bet on science. I was profoundly curious, loved my science classes, was fascinated with insects and birds, and desperately wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up. Within a year, everything changed. I learned that I would never go to space because I had severe, chronic knee problems. Becoming an astronomer was out of the question because I suddenly had a profoundly difficult time with math, and I learned that crickets (at least in captivity) are cannibals. My disgust turned me away from biology, the last refuge of my interest in science, but I kept a romantic love of nature. These revelations left me with no idea what to tell people when they asked what I wanted to be when I grew up.

New Moon in Taurus

When I was 9 years old, at the beginning of the New Moon phase, a teacher encouraged me to enter an international poetry contest, even though I would have been one of the youngest contestants. I wrote a poem about a chickadee, entered the contest, and won. In less than a year, I went from being science girl to writing poetry obsessively and having my stories and papers read in front of the class, a change that no one (least of all me) could have anticipated from the previous cycle.

First Quarter Moon

When I was 17, I experienced my progressed First Quarter phase. The progressed moon in 2nd house Virgo squared my Progressed Sun in 11th house Gemini. The questions being posed were: What communication (Gemini) goals (11th house) am I going to set? What skills (2nd house) am I going to develop (Virgo)? Because this moon cycle was about my career, these questions would be answered by my career decisions.

At the time, I didn't know what I was going to do. I was still writing poetry obsessively, but I knew that I couldn't make a career out of that, so I decided not to get a BFA in creative writing, which is what I really wanted. I knew that whatever I did, it would have something to do with communicating or teaching—both Virgo and Gemini are ruled by Mercury.

Because I didn’t do what I really wanted to do, I was extremely mercurial during this phase, switching programs and majors and schools with embarrassing randomness. My disorganization meant that, even with a nearly perfect GPA, it took me six years to get through undergrad.

Full Moon

When I was 24, I hit a few milestones all at once and entered my Full Moon phase with the sun in Gemini and the 11th house and the moon in Sagittarius in the 5th house. I graduated from college (Sagittarius) with a degree in English (Gemini). I became a community organizer (11th house). I started performing (5th house) at slam poetry (Gemini) open mics (11th house) in Boston and organized open mics of my own. I had settled on wanting to become a priest at that point, but the Episcopal Church decided not to ordain me as a priest, and I started my march out of Christianity (Sagittarius). I was accepted into an MFA in creative writing program (5th house, Sagittarius), retracing my steps back to that missed opportunity when I was 17. I started studying poetry and switched to fiction.

The period between my Full Moon phase and my Last Quarter phase was literally a highly visible time in my life. I was on stage performing and lecturing. I published stories and essays in magazines and anthologies. I ran an online literary magazine by myself and was the face of it.

Last Quarter Moon

When I was 31, I entered the Last Quarter phase with the sun in Gemini and the 11th house square the moon in Pisces in the 8th house. Just before I entered the Last Quarter phase, one of my stories was published in a "year's best" anthology, and a book with my work in it was on a shelf at Powell's, but I was shocked to discover that this success didn't mean anything to me. I was getting somewhere as a writer, and I suddenly wasn't interested in becoming a full-time professional fiction writer. The 8th house is the house of death. Less than five years after getting an MFA, my career was dying.

Not knowing that I was entering the waning phase of a moon cycle (or what it meant that my very driven Gemini Mars had just progressed into 12th house Cancer), I had an existential crisis. The realization that I didn't want to be a professional fiction writer was so traumatic for me, I refused to acknowledge it for years. I alternated between forcing myself to submit to markets I didn't care about and finding excuses not to. I could see the progression from poetry contest to creative writing degree, and I couldn't understand why this path that now seemed so logical was ending so soon—especially since I was succeeding. On the outside, nothing was happening to me, and yet I was changing.

I poured myself into learning (Gemini) astrology and Tarot (Pisces)—interests that I had developed in graduate school—and I started developing the psychic skills (8th house) that appeared out of nowhere during my Saturn return. I did readings (8th house), took the opportunities I could to teach (Gemini), and looked for others who were interested in things that I was interested in (11th house). I went back to my community organizing roots and helped bring people together at meetups and in online communities, and I was initiated into the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids.

Without realizing it, I was doing exactly what I needed to do. Kelly Surtees advises her clients who are going through the Last Quarter phase to withdraw from the world for awhile, go to school and re-train. Often you can't see where you're going until the New Moon phase, but you will intuitively know what skills to develop to prepare yourself for the future.

New Moon in Gemini...and Beyond

When I am 39, I will enter another New Moon phase. This New Moon will happen in Gemini and my 11th house and will mark a new phase of alignment between my identity and my personal goals.

During my first progressed moon cycle, I didn't really have any goals of my own. I entered a poetry contest because my teacher encouraged me to. I got English and MFA degrees because that's what people who are good at writing do. I started a literary magazine, wrote fiction, and submitted my work to magazines and anthologies because that's what people with MFAs do.

I can see now that when that moon cycle started to seriously wane, the standard script wasn't enough for me anymore. Success on society's terms didn't mean anything to me. I needed personal goals. I needed my own sense of mission. I needed to fulfill the promise of my 9th house Aries Mercury and do things my way.

And I needed to start embodying my 10th house sun in Taurus. At the end of this cycle, I'm finding myself returning to the place I was when I became a poet at 9 years old, when the sun and moon came together in that sign for the first time. I am remembering my love of nature. I am writing poetry again, and I am realizing that, even though the path of the scientist is closed to me, I can still serve the community with my love of nature as a mystic, Druid, teacher, writer, and poet.

What does that mean? I'm not sure. If I continue on the course I'm on, I will finish my training with OBOD by the time I'm 39. If I continue my work as a diviner, I will be celebrating my 15 year anniversary that year, and I will be marking almost a decade of work writing about divination and spirituality.

With my knowledge of progressions, I can look ahead.

When I am 47, I will enter the First Quarter phase again with my sun in 12th house Cancer, and the moon in 3rd house Libra. I see themes of spirituality, introspection, healing, art, communication, and peacemaking, all things that are in-line with being a Druid writer.

When I'm 53, I will enter a Full Moon phase with the sun in 12th house Cancer and the moon in 6th house Capricorn. Assuming all of the health signatures there don't indicate a preoccupation with health problems (Gulp!), I see themes of spirituality, introspection, healing, order-making, leadership, and service. All things that I would expect to see from continued growth along the path I'm on now.

I can calculate beyond that, but like Steven Forrest says in The Changing Sky, progressions show you the way a tree will grow if it grows from an acorn without too much interference from the environment. No one anticipated that a poetry contest at 9 years old would lead to earning an MFA at 26. I can't imagine how I'll feel when I'm in my 50s, but having the ability to trace the outlines of my past and seeing a way forward that gives me a sense of continuity makes me feel as if my life has a purpose and a track.

And that is really the most you can hope for from divination.

#secondary progressions #astrology #witchblr #self-indugently long post

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