#which i have been! it's been the intellectually most difficult semester so far

[gillianthecat]

Is/Was tumblr giving anyone else a notification when someone you followed posted for the first time in a while? Like this:

It was doing that for me for a couple weeks, although now it seems to have stopped. A short-lived experiment? Or perhaps no one has posted after a long enough lag. (It seems unlikely to have been a bug, but I don't know enough about coding so maybe?)

It was sort of an interesting idea, to make sure I didn't miss someone I hadn't seen in a while, but on the whole I'm glad it's gone/hope it goes. I'd like my notifications to be all about me, thank you 👸🏻The dashboard is the place for other people. Otherwise it gets confusing.

Anyway, I haven't posted in a while (12 days), so perhaps this post will show up in your notifications!

#that wasn't the only reason I haven't posted much lately #but it did add a little additional pressure for my first post back #i felt self conscious that everyone would get a notification about whatever random dumb shit i was thinking about #but now if lots of people see this at least it answers my question #i haven't been watching BL recently or indeed any shows or movies at all #been trying to focus a lot on school #which i have been! it's been the intellectually most difficult semester so far #so the focusing has been decent recently but the actual results haven't been great #especially since i started the semester not at all on top of things #but it means that I haven't had anything to say about bl #and I've been feeling weird about posting random stuff about my life or what I'm learning #like people aren't interested #and bad about not responding to various things I've been tagged in #i even have some drafts for those i just need to finish. but it hasn't been a priority #anyways here's the update no one asked for. i may or may not post more in the near future. #tmblr life #gillianthecat's life #rambling in the tags

[hal-boy]

(Venting)

God, okay. I tutor at my school. I am the first to admit that I had a very privileged upbringing when it comes to education: I went to a really good school and education was heavily valued in my family. I know it certainly isn't that way for everyone, and many schools are just... bad, with struggling kids and adults who can't meaningfully help them, many times on top of a kid's already-existing issues in their home life. On an intellectual level, I know that those places exist, and that some of those kids reach the college level (though oftentimes not without a lot of struggle), but it's very difficult to be talking to a fellow student and realize just how badly they've been failed by our education system. It's really fucking horrible.

Today was especially horrible, because I got my first tutoree who can't fucking read. She's a first semester freshman. Apparently she's been using screenreading software to read out the instructions for classwork and voice dictation to do her assignments, but this assignment involved reading from a pdf and the screenreader couldn't read anything. She literally couldn't even read the title of the paper (which was language which is used frequently in her discipline). I didn't realize at first but it quickly became clear she needed me to dictate the reading for her.

She was clearly afraid I would tell the school and she was about to fucking leave my little office before I stopped her. I ended up helping her with the assignment because what the fuck else can I do?? The thing is, she is clearly trying her best and understands the subject she was talking about on a relatively deep level, she has B's apparently, she can be on the level expected by a college. She's put far more effort in to this semester than I have for probably my entire school career, and she WANTS to learn... but she cannot read anything but the smallest words.

So no, I was in no way about to tell the school that she needed help in this area because I didn't want her to get in trouble (at a normal school I am not sure if this would be trouble-worthy, but our disability office is staffed by the world's worst, cruelest, most vidictive "human beings" I've ever had the displeasure of sharing a planet with), but we (well, I) did some research and found an adult literacy program (thankfully very cheap!) near her home that she plans to attend. She lives out of state, so thankfully there's minimal chances for school admins to accidentally find out she's there. I sent the links I found to her email (with our personal accounts, so the school can't see) and I'm just hoping that she can pull through the semester and begin those literacy courses. Gave her my personal phone and said I would help any way I can. Told her to look into dyslexia, too, which she suspects she has.

I'm just... distraught. How the fuck did this happen? How do you have a kid who can't read, at all, and she makes it through high school? School hasn't always been done on computers, she had to have had worksheets or SOMETHING at some level where a teacher realized she couldn't read! She got into college, so her grades must have been okay. How did nobody notice?? Alternatively, how did people notice but nothing got done to help her?? I'm disgusted.

I need to lay down for a bit and have a good sob before I start looking up whoever the fuck is in charge on our edu system at the federal level and [this sentence has been discontinued as it violates tumblr ToS].

#talking tag

[phaedoe]

i hesitate to share the intimate details of my personal life on here -- in the same manner i hesitate to do so with even close friends more generally -- for favor of my hobbies and intellectualizations (you know, de-broglie bohm, whitehead, pink floyd, bjork, and whatnot)

in the past, the periods of solitude in which i found my refuge from difficult events would eventually return me to a state of calm. however, it has now been made harshly clear to me that i continuously protract the present retreat in a manner that brings worry to loved ones who have supported me through such times in the past. my primary intention with this post is to alleviate any undue stress or rightful confusion i caused in a way i am currently comfortable with, knowing that at times my hilariously private ass sometimes gets “stalked” by people i care about on this weird page.

in late 2021, i was diagnosed with an eating disorder. the presentation, diagnostically and of course personally, was extreme, and due to the severity of my illness, i was involuntarily hospitalized. this was financially devastating. i requested a formal leave of absence from my academic semester to enter treatment, and am proud to say i have been fully committed to my recovery since april 2022.

but if you know me and are reading this, you probably already knew that. and you also probably already knew that there is a lot this clinical briefing struggles to fulfill in delineating the much grander scope of the situation -- which most certainly includes my health and lack thereof, but ultimately cannot be reduced to it.

as briefly as possible (and really honestly, for fear of triggering it again as well as the fact that it is extremely difficult to talk about by nature), i experienced extreme intimate partner violence. my experience of the abuse was overwhelmingly verbal and psychological, although it eventually escalated to physical abuse.

i feel terrified writing this publicly. i know now in my heart i did nothing to deserve it, and though i’m ~super wordy~, i believe my prolix internal world may have magnified the traumatic nature of the similarly wordy abuse. this was all but confirmed to me when later in my ongoing recovery, when i grew healthy enough to isolate any other medical extenuating factors, i was also diagnosed with severe obsessive-compulsive disorder. i experienced abuse in the past -- incredibly common among ipv survivors -- and doubting my own perceptions is one of the “causes” of my little writing habit, as well as my very strong retainment of the contingent world through means that are entirely verbal. 

i repeatedly and incessantly heard myself as “disgusting”, “gross”, “ugly”, “full of shit”, “pathetic”, “masculine”, “a slut / slutty”, “attention-seeking”, “weak”, “high body fat”, and of course, “fat”. i was often fetishized for and reduced to my racial background while also being chastised for my ethnic heritage. it was all without provocation. this is only the short list with respect to frequency. the worst of the abuse was coincident to periods in which i was cheated on, which i knew because another and almost equally large part of the abuse was comprised of a. my being informed of the cheating and b. being frequently, cruelly compared as inferior to cheating partners, exes, passers by, and celebrities. i was made to change my fashion sense and “aesthetic”. i was suddenly yelled at, at one time while the perpetrator was driving erratically for not “behaving” properly during dinner with their family. the physical abuse occurred when i was fully and forcibly isolated, and when i think was the most traumatic period of it all, as i was thousands of miles away from home in a rural area for the first time when the entire region emptied for break. following it, i was taken into the woods (of course, verbally assaulted). i distinctly remember my fear for my own life.

because it implicated my own sanity, the psychological abuse was far more insidious. i was told i had done things i had not done and that the perpetrator had already shared this information with their social circle. i heard the perpetrator repeatedly deny the abuse and once threaten me as the real offender. i lost someone to self-inflicted death in the past, and the abuser not only taunted me with it, but implicitly threatened me with their repeating of the traumatic event. i want to reiterate that i did absolutely nothing to warrant any of this. additionally, i am ashamed to say that if not for the verbal and physical distinct manifestations of the abuse, i would have failed to recognize the calculating, controlled, and skilled manipulation at work, and the danger i was (and acknowledge that i still am) in.

i hope you understand why this period has been difficult for me and how difficult this was to write. it has proven hard to hide behind the mask of intellect. my heart is forever filled with gratitude for anyone who has taken the time off their day to read this

[consolelog]

Returning to college as an adult is more than just academic learning: it’s re-learning how to learn, too.

My first experience with Python was learning it through an inaccessible, apathetic teacher, who was so far removed from his own students that he was no longer effectively teaching a beginner course in a way new programmers could understand. By the time the semester ended, only 7 out of 30 students passed, and I was the only woman out of those 7.

The reality is that no matter where you go (especially in higher education), not everyone will teach you in a way you understand. It’s up to you to translate the material for yourself. This is extremely difficult if you’re returning to school as an adult after taking a long time off (for me, it was about 7 years). The issue is no longer just about trying to learn new academic material, but learning how to learn again, too. I realized that after being out of school for so long, I’d even forgotten how to study. Not only did I have to process new and difficult material as a returning student, I had to restructure my life and once again, learn how to learn.

If you’ve been out of school for a while and you’re considering furthering your education, pursuing a career in tech, or making any sort of advancement that involves learning for long stretches of time, accept the fact that what worked for you in high school might not work for you anymore, and that’s okay. For example, the memorization technique that you were previously taught to be most effective in retaining information is outdated. Repetition alone is not very effective. In order for information to be stored in long-term memory, it must be relatable, assigned a meaning, or cued in some way for later retrieval.

My own educational journey as an adult didn’t start with my first programming course like I originally thought it would, it started with learning how to learn again. For me, this involved having to research my ADHD and how it impairs my cognitive function, exploring different methods of studying through trial and error, forcing myself to develop discipline to look at code at least once a day, adapting to a new life that revolves around learning, and finally: 

Researching how to be a better learner, so that I could ask better questions, to be a better student.

At some point during my search I discovered cognitive learning, which encompasses different active-engagement styles of learning. The #1 method which stood out to me the most was metacognition. It essentially means thinking about a method of thinking. “This cognitive learning type involves us consciously deciding which learning strategy we plan to use when we engage in a learning experience” (Source). I believe this is the most important style to become a better learner, because in order to make that choice, we have to immerse ourselves in exploring all methods first. When we learn about learning, we equip ourselves with techniques that allows us to more easily retain and understand academic material. It grants us more power and ownership of our future.

Intellectual development also requires having the ability to introspect. Some level of self-awareness equates to having a better understanding of who we are and what’s important to us. Examining our own mental and emotional processes allows us to make better decisions that align with what makes us happy and fulfilled in life. Without doing this, we are unable to recognize our strengths, limitations, rationalize our actions, or make sensible decisions about life centered around learning.

Within the upcoming week(s), I will be providing links in the navigation bar to helpful resources, videos, tutorials, Reddit threads, and useful tips on web development and programming. I will discuss topics such as why I chose to begin my journey with community college and not a bootcamp, and how I decided on what specific languages to study. As a small life update, I’ve decided to switch from learning Python to JavaScript in order to focus more on mastering front-end development.

#programming #web development #css #html #javascript #psychology #student #code #coding #women in tech #girls in tech #coding for beginners #advice #life advice #advice on life #life #self improvement #inspiration #developer

[eliteprepsat]

1. BE RELIABLE

Many of the best teachers admire students who don’t necessarily follow the rules. But, it’s important to clarify that this only applies to being an intellectual rule-breaker and thinking outside of the box. What teachers don’t appreciate are students who deliberately disobey rules that are established for the sake of helping their classes run smoothly.

This may seem like it goes without saying. But one of the simplest ways to be a great student is just to be reliable. You can do this by always completing your work, arriving to class on time, and showing up every day prepared and ready to participate.

It’s not so much that students stand out for being reliable; it’s that students stand out for being unreliable—in other words, for all the wrong reasons. So, take the first best step toward securing a strong recommendation letter this way.

2. BE A TEAM PLAYER

Most of the best classrooms function like a sports team, where the teacher leads or guides (like a coach) and all of the students also have a role (like players). This stands in contrast to traditional (and largely outdated) classroom models where the teacher takes the only active role and the students are merely passive observers.

Good teachers relish students who are excellent team players—who listen actively, participate by making meaningful contributions to discussions, and generally exude a positive energy.

In my own experience, I’ve found that classes tend to function like the organic and often unpredictable flow of a basketball game. Some of the best moments in my classes have occurred when my game plan suddenly (and wonderfully) shifted because a student raised a compelling idea in discussion that we then pursued. I think of such students as my best teammates, giving me assists as I try to make a play.

But being a great team player in class doesn’t just involve your interactions with your teacher. It also involves how you interact with your other teammates, or classmates. Some of the strongest students I’ve worked with stand out in my memory not just because of how they treated their classmates, but also because of how their classmates responded to them.

Just as the best team players know when to lead and when not to hog the ball so as to let others on the team shine, so too do the best students know when to speak up and step in when their classmates need help, but also when not to dominate the conversation, actively listening instead so as to let their classmates also shine.

3. DEMONSTRATE CURIOSITY

Students often believe—incorrectly—that the best way to be a team player is simply to be the most “intelligent” student in the room. In reality, raw intelligence is typically not the attribute that good teachers appreciate most in their students. Instead, this attribute is curiosity.

What does it mean to “demonstrate curiosity” as a student? Generally speaking, it means having an open mind. If you encounter course material that is initially off-putting because it seems too difficult, for instance, don’t run the other way out of frustration. Instead, ask yourself: Why might this material be of interest? Why have people devoted their entire lives to its study? What could I learn from it?

With that said, another component of demonstrating curiosity is the ability (or at least the attempt) to draw connections between course material and your own interests or life. So, even if you are taking a class in a seemingly “foreign” subject (e.g. if you are in the sciences but taking a world literature course), again ask yourself what you might have to learn from this material. Perhaps you see parallels between the formal structures of storytelling and what you have been learning in one of your engineering classes. Bring this up in discussion! Not only will you find that the course is far more worth your time because it is applicable to something you care about, but your teachers will also appreciate your curiosity.

4. VISIT OFFICE HOURS

The best letters of recommendation are written by teachers who really know the student in question. Although there are exceptions to this rule, it’s typically not ideal, then, to request a letter from a teacher who you only studied with for a brief summer session, or who you never actually spoke to in person (say, from an online course).

In my own experience, the recommendation letters I write are better the more I know a student. So, if there is a teacher with whom you feel comfortable, don’t be afraid to open up to them a bit.

Why is this helpful for recommendation letters, exactly? If you are taking several AP courses while also juggling a heavy load of extracurriculars, a resume or transcript will show this at a glance. But if you are taking night classes while also raising a child or taking care of your ailing parents, for instance, the extent of your hard work will not likely appear anywhere on paper.

If you take the time to open up about the particulars of your life to a teacher, however, they can speak to your perseverance and grit in a meaningful recommendation letter to an admissions committee. That added understanding could very well mean the difference between a college acceptance or none.

You may or may not have opportunities to open up to your teachers during class. And you may or may not feel comfortable doing so. So, take advantage of your teachers’ office hours, when you can speak with them one-on-one and in person.

5. TURN IN AN IMPRESSIVE ASSIGNMENT

When writing recommendation letters, the best teachers will not write generally about the student in question. Rather, they will look for specifics to discuss. After all, specific examples are what help readers visualize and relate to what a writer is describing, ultimately becoming convinced of their claims.

In order to do this, teachers need to be supplied with specifics to write about you. So, if you’ve written an especially impressive paper, completed a particularly dynamic presentation, or organized a uniquely inspiring event, bring this to your teacher’s attention. It will give them something to focus portions of their recommendation letter around, and they can point to these specific examples as evidence of your mastery of a subject, your hard work, your passion, or any of your other exceptional traits.

Ultimately, your teacher’s reflections on these detailed examples will give admissions committees something to remember about you as a candidate, which is crucial considering how many applications colleges receive each year.

6. STAY IN TOUCH

Typically, students don’t require recommendation letters immediately upon completing a course. So, it can be difficult having to reach out to former teachers semesters—or even years—down the road. In this case, it can feel awkward asking them for the favor of writing a letter since you haven’t spoken in some time. You may wonder if they even remember you!

To avoid this, I suggest emailing your teachers not long after a course has ended just to say a friendly hello, to share that you enjoyed their class, and to ask if they might be open to writing you a recommendation letter in the future. Although you might not require the letter immediately, asking in advance in this way is a good idea for a few reasons. It demonstrates that you are taking initiative by being so forward thinking about your future success. It also helps to plant a seed in your teacher’s mind; they will be more likely to remember you when you reach out to officially request a letter one day.

Beyond this initial email, it is a good idea to simply stay in touch with your former teachers, especially if you believe you will request a recommendation letter from them eventually. Most teachers love to hear from their former students and get caught up on all of their wonderful achievements. So, don’t be shy about sharing yours. Again, if you do so, your teachers will be more eager to help when you contact them for recommendation letters.

SOME FINAL ADVICE FOR REQUESTING LETTERS OF RECOMMENDATION

When requesting a letter of recommendation, it’s always best to ask your teachers well in advance of the deadline so that they have plenty of time to complete the work. This means that you should usually aim for giving them at least 4 weeks and never less than 2 weeks. Remember that while they typically understand that writing such letters comes with the job and are happy to help out their students in this way, teachers are very busy people. So, do what you can to make the task as simple as possible for them.

Beyond giving them ample time to complete their letters, you can also simplify the task for your teachers by giving them a copy of your resume and a few of your strongest assignments as references. Finally, be sure to always ask at least one more individual than is required as a backup in case your original letter writer doesn’t come through or fails to get their letter in on time.

#recommendation letters #letters of recommendation #appblr #studyblr #college prep #college #college admissions #go to college #high school #Common App

[the-sweetest-dragon]

Souls Uniting

Part One: Moving Day

Pairing: eventual Soulmate!Peter Parker x OC Phoenix Graves

Word Count: 2326

Warnings: None, just world building

AN: I’m kinda in love with this AU, not gonna lie.

Tags: @audder17 you spider-man lover you

Check out this character sheet here

_________________________________________________________

A soulmate is not found.  A soulmate is recognized. -  Vironika Tugaleva

9:32 A.M., Friday, May 31st, 2019

Soft music played in the background as Mom and I moved around our old apartment.  Throwing things in boxes, not caring if things break; things were just things after all.  All of our personal things had already been shipped across half the nation, sent to their new home in Queens, New York.  We were moving, again.  I wonder if this one will be permanent or if we’ll be moving again in a few months.  Not that I was sad to leave Topeka, in fact I loved that we were leaving.  I was going to miss what few friends I have made here, but they would be easily forgotten, just like all my other old friends.  I was finally going back to my birth state of New York and I felt… excited.  We hadn’t been back since I was eight, so my memories of our old apartment were faded, but the warm feeling lingered.

Mom pushed her black hair out of her eyes, huffing slightly at the work we still had left to do.  Her job made us move around a lot, being a freelance writer does that for you.  Sometimes, when she didn’t want me going with her, she’d leave me at home for weeks at a time.  I never really mind being left alone; I’m just fine by myself.  

I tape up the last box and head downstairs, Mom close on my heels with boxes of her own.  We were going to be driving to Queens, rather than taking a plane.  Planes freaked both my mom and I out; being so far off the ground wasn’t natural and I absolutely hated it.  So, we drove.  Since I got my license, this was going to be the first time I would be able to take a turn so Mom could rest.  She’s both nervous and excited at the prospect of a break.  The drive was about twenty hours, nonstop, and we had planned a few stops on our way there.  Our summer was going to be fun, despite the moving.  

“You ready Phee?” Mom asks.  I smile ruefully and pull my hair up off my neck for a moment.  The air is still slightly cool, not quite summer yet and I’m happy that we are leaving before the heat really sets in.

“I was born ready Mom.”  She smiles and bumps my arm.  

“Have any more drawings shown up on your arm?” she asks.  I sigh.  I should have never mentioned the signs from my soulmate.  Mom seems to think that whoever is is, they have to be in New York.  Why does she think this?  I have no clue and I hate to ask.  Mothers’ minds work differently to us teens’.  I begrudgingly slide my sweater sleeve up for her to look at.  Last night a crude drawing of a spider had shown up on my arm, completely in pen.  I couldn’t wash it off until the other person washed off the art.  “Well, that’s not that good is it?”  Mom laughs softly and opens the door to the truck.

“It’s really not.  I half wanted to draw something back, but I thought that may be show-offish.”  I smirk and hop into the truck.  I’m ready to go, have been since we came here to be completely honest.  Kansas kinda sucked, but the winter’s where we’re going are even worse so I’m not sure which I prefer.

“Have you ever written back?” she asks quietly as she starts the truck.  I look out the window, too scared to tell her no.  I hadn’t written back because I wasn’t sure that soulmates were a thing I wanted.  A person that the universe made for you isn’t always the person that is right for you.  Love doesn’t work that way.  I softly trace the outline of the spider and wonder who the person may be, what they’re like and if they really were in New York.  “It wouldn’t kill you to at least answer them, Phee.  It may even start a conversation.”  Mom held out an ink pen.  I stare at it for a moment before taking it from her.

“I don’t…” I start then stop, to think about what I want to say, how to word what I’m feeling.  “What do I even say to them?”  Mom smiles and shakes her head.  I buckle my seat-belt as she starts to pull away from our old building.

“Just doodle.  See what comes pouring out.  Let your heart guide your hand.”  

Smiling, I set the tip of the pen against my skin and begin my slow descent into the depths of my artistic ability.  I draw constellations on my arms, connecting the dots when we pause to eat in Indianapolis.  While stopped, I dug out my favorite set of markers from a box in the back and sketch out a better looking spider, wondering if the other person will notice right away that they have had more added to their arms than the usual note or number adorning their wrist.  I liked having numbers on my wrist, like a countdown to an important day.  I would doodle a lot in middle school, always bored with something.  I hope whoever it is doesn’t mind the drawings I set into our skin.  

Our cats, Salem and Sabrina were allowed brief interludes of being out of their kennels to walk about on their leashes and eat.  I worry about them when we move because they’re usually kept enclosed for hours at a time, which isn’t good for them.  I make sure to give them both a cuddle before we leave the state of Indiana to make the last little bit of our trip.  

I drive for a while, wondering about whoever was tethered to me.  Do they believe in this soulmate stuff?  A small part of me hopes they do, because when the soulmate is right, it can be magic.  One of my friends back in Olympia recently found her soulmate, after years of wondering about the time stamped on her wrist.  She had met her girlfriend at exactly 2:43 A.M., in a coffee shop not too far from her house.  She said that it was an instant click, like a string attached her to this person and the only way to ease the tension was to go towards that pull.  It sounded wonderful, but I had seen too many people get ruined by believing their soulmate was the only one the universe had made for them. 

The awful part of having a soulmate was knowing that most people had them, but there was always a small chance that you didn’t or found the wrong one.  I believe that the universe makes several soulmates for each individual; sometimes, the soulmates aren’t ready for each other or the bond isn’t reciprocated.  It hurts to know that your soulmate could exist, but not want you.  And the ones who lose their soulmates?  They’re rarely the same afterwards.  I glance towards the black band around my mother’s wrist.  When she was young, the band had been pure gold; her soulmate was alive and well.  And they found each other, they loved until they couldn’t anymore.  Her soulmate, my father, passed away weeks before I was born and Mom was never the same.  She hated staying in the same place, things always felt weird to her, like the world was just a little off kilter.  

Soulmates were great, until they weren’t there anymore.

2:55 A.M., Saturday, June 1st, 2019

We drive for several more hours until we get into Pennsylvania to stop for the night.  Mom gets us a motel room and we grab some food from the vending machines before hitting the hay.  It’s nearly four A.M. when I finally close my eyes.  Waking up was going to be difficult, but I wasn’t fond of the dreams I had been having.  Visions of a terrifying, flying monster coming towards me had haunted my dreams since the fall and I absolutely hated them.  I toss and turn for a few hours, before Mom shakes me awake.

“Time to go Phoenix.”  I groan and cover my head with a pillow.  I hear Mom laugh softly.  “I have chocolate chip muffins.”  Now that is how you get my attention.  I’m immediately up and ready to go.  Mom just laughs at me as I stuff muffins into my mouth.  “We have about a three hour drive to our new apartment.  You ready?”

I tap my chin in thought for a few moments before nodding.  “Just keep the muffins coming.”  

Mom shakes her head as we pack up the few belongings we brought into the motel room.  I check on the cats, make sure that they have food and take them on a short walk to do their business.  Mom and I get back into the truck to complete the drive, with me driving until we reach the city.  We groove out to the radio, shouting the words to Lizzo’s Truth Hurts, when Mom notices that I have a bit of marker on my face.  

“I’m sure your person will love having marker on their face.”  I laugh and shake my head.  She wipes away the marks with her thumb.  “There, all better.”  

We switch once we reach the New York state line and I put our new address into the GPS.  I make Mom pull over for a quick lunch at McDonalds before we continue on to our new home.  This is when it starts to rain, making me glad that we switched.  I hate driving in the rain; makes it hard to see and I enjoy seeing.  While at the McDonalds, I washed off all the old marker in the bathroom.  An elderly woman saw me and smiled, knowing that was my soulmate’s mark on me.  I frowned at my reflection in the mirror; I looked a mess but I didn’t really think it mattered that much.  All we were doing was driving.  

Once back on the road, Mom talks to me about the school I’d be attending next semester, Midtown High School.  She tells me that it’s more science based and I crinkle my nose.  I’m smart, don’t get me wrong, but science is not really my forte.  I’m more of an artsy, creative writing, type rather than an intellectual sciencey type.  Mom sees the worry in my face and tries to soothe the worries by giving me the best news possible.

“Michelle Jones goes there.”  My heart drops and I let out a very unlike me squeal.  Michelle was one of my best friends from when we lived here before.  We kept in touch and she was still a huge part of my life.  “I take that as a good thing?”

“It’s the best thing you’ve said all day!”  I give her a side hug, making sure to keep my arm away from the steering wheel.  Mom laughs and shakes her head ruefully.  I’m giddy in my seat now.  “How much longer till we get there?”

“About an hour.  You should call her, see if she’d want to come hang out and help us unpack.”  I nod and text her quickly.  She answers back quickly and we make a plan to hang out tomorrow.  I glance down at my arms, wondering if there is anymore doodles on them but all I can see is a faded spider.  I trace its legs with a fingertip; why a spider?  What meaning could it possibly have?  Maybe, whoever it is is a fan of the Spider-Boy thing that crawls around Queens.  I shrug and decide to look out the window to pass the time we have left in the car.

4:17 P.M., Saturday, June 1st, 2019

When we finally reach our new apartment, the first thing I do is let Salem and Sabrina out to walk around a little bit.  I bring them into the apartment after getting a few confused looks and help Mom unpack all our junk.  The apartment has two bedrooms, a fairly spacious kitchen and bathroom, and a practically nonexistent living room.  The room barely fits our rather small couch and television set, but I don’t really mind.

“I’ve been given the go ahead on painting the walls,” says Mom.  I smile at her; our last apartment wouldn’t let us decorate very much, which was fine, but I made sure to ask specifically for a building that would allow me to paint the walls.  I wanted my artwork to surround me and make it feel more like a home, rather than a place where we happen to live.  I made a mental note to start sketching ideas when I finally had time to do so this summer.    

I finish unpacking the stuff for my room and get to work putting my mattress down onto the frame we had ordered a week ago to be delivered here.  The room wasn’t huge, but I would make do.  It held my desk and bed fairly well; that’s all I really needed anyways.  Sometime during me opening boxes of stuff, Mom ordered Chinese food from a place down the street from us.  A knock can be heard throughout the small apartment and I can hear Mom have a short conversation with the delivery guy before calling my name for dinner.  

Dinner is great, and warm.  I snarf down my sweet and sour chicken quickly, wanting to get back to unpacking as soon as I can.  

“Slow down, Phee.  You’re gonna make yourself sick,” Mom says with a shake of her head.  But I’m distracted now by the slow arrival of a new drawing on my right forearm.  I show Mom, not sure of what it is.  “It looks like a science formula for something.  I’m no expert though.”  I shrug and finish my food.  Time to sketch my ideas for the walls onto paper. 

#spiderman #peter parker #new story #phoenix graves #soulmate au #i'm in love #send help #marvel #michelle jones #spider-man far from home #spider-man homecoming

[bgharison]

Which WIP?!

I have about three weeks between classes, my meds and my muse seem to be holding a tentative truce, and I really miss writing.  Wanna help me decide which rabbit hole?  I need to choose one and kind of stick with it.  My goal is to have a rough draft done by  August 19 and then edit during the semester.  (My goal is to start an original work in January 2020, so this is warm-up.)

I do find feedback and enthusiasm both validating and motivating, so if something makes you go “oooooooh” let me know?

Options below:

Option A:  Vaguely Pacific Northwest McDanno AU -- Steve returns from combat to his deceased father’s cabin, Danny is a journalist writing about missing children in the area.  Danny gets too close to the truth.  I only have three paragraphs of this written, but it’s outlined.  Inspired in part by the idea of a bearded Steve and Danny wearing jeans, boots, and scarves. 

(opening) He moved through the house, flicking on one or two lights, somewhat surprised that the electricity hadn’t been long since disconnected.  Since it wasn’t, the well pump still worked and the kitchen sink yielded fresh, cold water.  The aquifers here, in the northwest corner of the country, have the coldest, clearest water of anyplace he’s seen, on this continent or any other.  He cupped a handful of it and gulped greedily.  Even in the dim light, he could tell that the coffee maker had only a faint layer of dust.  It gave him pause, to think that someone had been keeping up the property.  His father must have arranged for a caretaker in his will.  

It didn’t occur to him to test the heat; he simply took off his boots and climbed, fully clothed, under the heavy comforter in the room that has remained unchanged since he left it almost two decades ago.

(random selection)  

“Go away, Danny,” Steve orders.  “I mean it.  Get the hell away from me.”

Danny wipes at the blood, dripping steadily now from his eyebrow, trailing down the side of his face.  His jaw clenches as he squares off against Steve.  “Why?  Because I caught you off guard, didn’t duck fast enough?  Come on, Steve, I know you didn’t mean --”

“That’s the point, Danny!” Steve explodes.  “That’s the fucking point.  Whether I mean it or not, this is what happens.  People get hurt.  The people I care about get hurt.”

“Yeah, is that so?  Well maybe the people I care about get something, too.”

“What?  What, Danny?”

Danny steps into his space and he can feel his own coiled tension reflected right back at him, in the stubborn set of Danny’s shoulders, in the heat radiating off his chest.

“This.”

Steve doesn’t have time to react before Danny’s hands are on him, wrapping around the back of his neck, his hip, pulling him in and down.  He tastes the tang of copper and iron as their lips crash together and for a moment it’s violent, and Steve falls into it.  Violence is familiar.

Option B:  Core Four AU Steve comes back from being presumed dead after the Hesse fiasco in North Korea and opens an acupuncture clinic.  Danny is building a new life on the island after losing his wife.  Steve starts to fall for Danny until he suspects that Danny is keeping a secret involving his little girl.  Kono is exasperated with all of the alphabet agencies that come into play -- CIA, FBI, ATF, and she just wants to know -- WTF?! Outlined but with two possible “reveals” I would need to choose from.  This one also give me an opportunity to play with world-building, because the setting is specific, involving an elaborate tree house, a zip line, and other things that end up getting SEALed in order to protect Grace. 

(There’s this)

“Kono, we are professional health care providers here,” he said.  “No dating clients.  And quit trying to set me up.”

“I’m asking for myself,” Kono said.  She beamed at him, a flash of white teeth and dimples.  “He’s adorable.  Like a . . . like a fluffy little lion cub.  I want to take him home and just --”

“Okay then, Kono, let’s get --” Steve glanced down at his schedule -- “Mr. Wilson into a treatment room.”

“Can I get him to put on a gown?” Kono asked.  

Steve looked at her sternly as she blinked in mock innocence.

(And this)

Then again, Danny wasn’t most people.  He noticed everything.  Too many years of training and practice to stop now -- besides, the stakes had never been higher, and his powers of observation, of reading people, of seeing through disguises and lies, might just be the edge that would keep him and his daughter alive until this mess was over.

He pulled off the road onto the narrow gravel drive leading back to the beleaguered property that was not only his cover, but his home -- his fortress.  He pulled up to the gate and keyed in one of two codes -- the one that verified that all was well, and that he was not under duress.  The gate opened smoothly, its deliberately aged and tenuous appearance belying that it was part of the newly installed state-of-the-art defense.    

The drive was long, curving around dense areas of vegetation that still hinted at previous deliberate planning and careful attention.  With a bit of work, the grounds would once again be functional and attractive.  His Camaro handled the gentle incline with ease, and soon he was pulling into the ground level garage of his home, opening the garage door with another code.  It slid closed behind him, the motion sensors glowing at each other in the dim light.  A third code was entered at the door between the garage and the house, the heavy deadbolt sliding open.  Danny locked the door behind him and reset the alarm.

“You realize that three sets of coded entry is going to be difficult to explain to visitors,” a calm voice said.  The clink of glass on porcelain in the kitchen, along with the scent of rich Kona coffee, was welcome.

(And this)

Steve took the long way home, the windows of his truck rolled down, filling the cab with fresh, fragrant air.  He knew he would never tire of this, never tire of being back home, back on Oahu.  Pulling into the driveway was something that at one point, he was sure he’d never do again -- he’d never take it for granted.  The house itself felt in turn far too empty and far too full of ghosts, but he couldn’t imagine not living here.  He was making peace with both the solitude and the presences he couldn’t quite shake.  When Mary was well enough to be discharged, he would bring her here, where he could watch over her, protect her the way a brother should, care for her like she needed.  He’d drag her out into the sunshine and fresh air.  It would help.  It had to.  

He keyed in the alarm code and slipped inside the still house.  Ignoring the boxes half-packed in his father’s office, gathering dust, he headed for the kitchen.  

Option C:  A case from Danny’s past comes back to haunt the team and threaten the island.  This one is not really outlined.  Possibly gen/case fic, possibly newly McDanno, potentially an OC interest for Steve when the original profiler, who considers this case her one failure, comes to help (because I love playing with OCs and creating better love interests for him than the show manages to do, and I loved the dynamic with Steve and Alicia Brown, and even though I didn’t see it as romantic, I think Steve could fall for someone who is a match for him intellectually and who would understand what his years in the underbelly of Naval intel did to his psyche, and I love the ‘brilliant, mentally tough but physically vulnerable person matched with the brilliant, physically tough but emotionally vulnerable person” trope, sue me).  And I love exploring Danny’s back stories and volatility and the reasons that his marriage failed because his job came first.  We would see a darker Danny in this and that intrigues me. I might also jump the timeline for the first time (for me) put this post season-4, meaning Junior and Tani instead of Chin and Kono.  

There’s this:

“We called him the Holiday Weekend Killer,” Danny said.  “First body, just like this one, the Tuesday after President’s Day weekend.  We found the next body the day after Easter.  And then another the Tuesday after Memorial Day.  And then we ran ourselves into the ground all through the heat of the summer, got nowhere, and the fourth body showed up the day after Labor Day.  We missed Thanksgiving with our families with nothing to show for it but another dead woman -- this one we had to identify with dental records, because the son of a bitch had four days to torture her.  We took off twenty-four hours, Christmas Eve into Christmas Day, might as well, since we had no fucking leads.  He had almost a month with that poor girl, college student, aged out of the foster system, so no one fucking noticed she was missing until classes started again in January.  Christmas Day, no one even fucking knew that beautiful --”

 Danny broke off with a muttered curse and walked out of the room, pushing the doors open with such force that they struck the walls behind, the sound echoing as Steve and Max stood in shocked silence.

 “Give us a few, yeah, Max?” Steve said quietly.  

He caught up with Danny in the basement locker room, the soles of his shoes sticking out of the stall where he was retching over the toilet.  Steve grabbed a length of paper toweling and wet it at the sink.

Danny staggered out of the stall and silently accepted Steve’s offering, wiping his face and mouth.  He balled up the toweling and dropped it into the wastebasket, then rinsed his mouth at the sink, hands trembling on the faucet.

Steve waited, arms crossed, leaning against the door of the locker room.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” he said, when Danny finally turned off the water, leaning over the sink, his breath coming in ragged gasps.  “We’ll all understand if you need to sit this one out.”

It happened so fast that Steve flinched in surprise, Danny’s hand lashing out and shattering the mirror in front of him.

“Sit it out?  Why bother?  This fucking animal already destroyed my marriage, almost cost me my baby girl, not to mention the pile of pretty young corpses we processed.  Processed lots of bodies, Steve, but precious little evidence.  I’ll have them FedEx it to us, shouldn’t take much to send one fucking file box full of nothing useful,” Danny exploded.  “Sit this one out?  What, just do paperwork while I watch you and Chin run yourselves into the ground, while we all try to pretend that we aren’t worried sick about the possibility of this guy getting his hands on Kono?  While Max stacks up bodies in the morgue?  Bodies that no one claims?  Because this guy, this guy, Steve, he knows how to pick his victims.”

“Danny,” Steve sighed.  He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.  “Danny, we have -- we have resources here, we can cut through red tape.  If it is the guy --”

“Cigarette burns on the soles of their feet, Steve, do you have any idea --”

Danny stopped short at the flicker of emotion that Steve couldn’t mask quickly enough.  He met Steve’s gaze and held it.

“Yeah,” Steve said.  “We’re going to get this guy, Danny.  Now listen, the first thing we need to know -- is this personal?  With him and you?  Is he here, now, on Oahu, because you’re here?”

#bless you if you read this whole mess #beegie used to write #wip wonderland #some of these ideas are self indulgent and shallow #and i don't even care #this is supposed to be fun

[moonwaif]

Snow Over Insomnia: ch. 1

Pairings: Gladnis, promptis

Theme: snowed in

Summary:

Once a year, Shiva blesses Insomnia with snowfall. This year's snow day finds four friends in transition. There's Noctis, who's trying his best to enjoy freshman year. With his best friend Prompto enrolled at a different college, it hasn't been easy. When a particularly controversial lecture puts Noctis on the spot, he says some things he regrets. Can he make amends before their friendship freezes over?

Meanwhile, there's Gladiolus, who's finding it increasingly difficult to deny his feelings for coworker and friend Ignis Scientia. The appearance of a mysterious figure from Ignis's past might just be the sign that it's time to come clean. Will Gladio make a move, or will he let the opportunity melt away?

PT. I: 10:12 hours

It was a good thing Noctis had remembered to mute his laptop before class started, because he received his first message from Prompto just twelve minutes into the lecture.

Prompto: brrrr! Freezing my a$$ off this morning

A selfie instantly followed: Prompto in a warm jacket and white beanie, grimacing up at the camera with a steaming coffee cup clutched in his gloved hand.

Noctis: heh. nice pic. whatcha drinking?

Prompto: mocha moogle latte. Yummm ;P

Noctis: all that sugar is gonna give you a headache

Prompto: hahaha yeah, probably. but i need some caffeine. i couldnt sleep all night thinking about that presentation!!!!  ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

Prompto: so we still getting snowed in tonight?

Noct's smile widened. It wasn’t often that Shiva graced the arid landscape of Lucis with her affections, but at least once a year, snow fell on the city of Insomnia. Sometimes it was a few flakes, sometime just sleet. On rare occasions, such as the one predicted by Insomnian weather channels on this particular day, it was a blizzard.

Noctis: heck yeah! hope you're ready to binge some King’s Knight.

Prompto: ugh am i ever. so ready to chill after getting this presentation out of the way…

Noctis leaned back in his chair, brow furrowing. He cast a quick glance at projector screen down at the front of the hall: a slide about the Lucian civil war.

Noctis: y? U nervous?’

Prompto: yeah

Prompto: stomach hurts

Prompto: p sure im gonna throw up

Noctis: relax, prom

Noctis: you've been practicing a lot, right?

Noctis: you're gonna be great

Prompto: dude you have no idea what id give to hear you say that rn

Prompto: i wish we still went to the same school

Prompto:  ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

A dull, tight ache formed in the center of Noct's chest. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the reply coming slower this time.

Noctis: me too.

Prompto: yeah...

Prompto: too bad my best friend has to go to a fancy schmancy ivy league school for geniuses (¬‿¬)

Noctis rolled his eyes.

Noctis: im not here cuz im a genius, prom

Prompto: his majesty is sooooo modest ;)

Noctis: srlsy

Noctis: im like most of the ppl here. average.

Noctis: the only genius ive met so far is specs

Prompto: lol youre just saying that to make me feel better

Noctis: nah. youre way cooler than like half of the people here

Prompto: ♥‿♥

Prompto: too bad i cant afford the tuition lol. id kill to have iggy as my teacher

Noctis glanced up from his computer. From his own seat in the center of the hall, Ignis was just a small figure behind an even smaller podium. Still, Noctis had to admit that Specs was definitely in his element at the front of a classroom. His fitted grey sweater, crisp collar and perfectly coiffed hair were every bit the image of the up-and-coming academian. The freshmen in the front row hung dreamily on every elegant gesture of his gloved hands as his voice rang out through the hall, crisp and clear as water. He said something that sent a murmur of laughter through the rows of desks. Noctis smiled.

Noctis: yeah its not bad

Prompto: duh!! hes probably way cooler than all of my professors combined

Prompto: anyway, g2g. Gonna try to run through my presentation one more time before class starts

Prompto: (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

Noctis: dont worry prom. Youre gonna kick this presentation in the ass.

Prompto: thanks dude

Prompto: catch ya later

Noctis let his gaze linger on the final message, Iggy’s melodic tones lilting in the background. He tuned in long enough just to get the gist of the topic (ugh - still on the Lucian civil war). He turned his attention back to his laptop and clicked on an open tab, which took him directly to Prompto’s ChocoGram feed. There weren’t any new updates, but that didn’t stop him from smiling as he reviewed some of the earlier posts: Prompto getting ready to dig into a steaming, greasy pizza; a #tbt selfie featuring the baby chocobo they’d helped rescue during their summer road trip to Lestallum; a prank-selfie with a drooling, sleeping Gladio. Noctis chuckled. He’d been there when Prompto had taken that one. Even Gladio had agreed that the shot was just too good not to share.

He continued scrolling. A bunch of people Noctis didn't know, probably at a party; a filtered, black-and-white shot of a glistening, neon lit alley; a selfie with some guy Noctis had never seen before; a picture of the school’s mascot, tagged #gocactuars; Prompto wearing glasses…

Wait a second.

Noctis scrolled back to the photo of Prompto and the stranger. “Hanging with the coolest TA around,” read the caption. Tagged: #whenyourfriendhasthesamemajor, #collegelife #insomniaboys.

Friend, huh?

Noct’s eyes narrowed. He silently listed off any names he’d heard Prompto mention over the past semester as he analyzed the man’s features: platinum hair; a strong chin; sharp, intelligent eyes whose color he couldn’t quite discern through the ChocoGram filter. He let the cursor hover over the smug, obnoxious grin. A tagged username appeared: “Ghiranzenator.”

Before Noctis could really stop to self-reflect, he was scrolling through Ghiranzenator’s feed. It was the kind of content you’d expect from a twenty-something with a pompadour and generic good looks. Gym selfies tagged #fitnesslifestyle; poses in scenic, well-known locations captioned with thought-provoking yet totally irrelevant quotes (ugh, so pretentious). He wondered how Prompto even knew this guy. Was he the TA for one of Prompto’s classes? Did they have mutual friends? If so, why hadn’t Prompto mentioned him before? But now that Noctis thought about it, like really thought about it, he hadn’t really heard Prompto say a whole lot about any of the new friends he was making at school.

Wasn't that kind of weird?

A crumpled wad of paper plummeted through his thoughts, ricocheting off his forehead. Noct's head snapped in the direction it had come from. His eyes were met by a vision of Gladio, squeezed into a desk barely large enough to accommodate his lanky frame.

“Pay. Attention,” he mouthed, cocking his head in Iggy’s direction.

Noctis scowled. That was the one downside of having his bodyguard disguised as a classmate. Gladio was just all too ready to make sure Noct behaved like a good little student. The plus side was that Noct had at least one friend who could commiserate with his suffering.

Like now, for instance. A fan club member from the front row was monologuing, earning exasperated looks from his classmates. Noctis and Gladio exchanged a few muffled snickers.

“Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, Cleetus,” Ignis cut in, his voice laced with a strain so barely audible that Noct and Gladio were probably the only ones who even picked up on it. “As you have noted for us, it is quite interesting that most rebel demands would be considered centrist by modern standards. However, we should recognize one deconstructionist philosopher whose theories remain polarizing even to this day.”

Ignis went to the next slide. A portrait of a wide-jawed man with a face only a mother garula could love brooded down from the display screen.

“Oh great,” Noctis muttered, drawing a confused look from Gladio. “Not this guy…”

"Regulus Invicta," Ignis continued, "is remembered as one of the strongest advocates for freedom of speech throughout the history of Lucis. However, what is less commonly remembered are his persistent demands for the de-establishment of the monarchy in favor of what we would now refer to as a democratic socialist republic. Even during the Lucian civil war, Invicta was a controversial figure. At first his philosophies were embraced by the deconstructionists, who sought to overthrow the Lucis Caelums in favor of a fragmented nation-states ruled by regional noblemen. They were less in favor of his leanings toward a democratic socialist republic. Despite this difference of opinion, Invicta was one of the few intellectuals of his time that insisted on the right of deconstructionists to espouse their ideals without punishment or censorship. Unfortunately, this insistence, combined with his involvement with radical circles, led to his eventual imprisonment. He would die of consumption shortly thereafter.”

A hand shot up - the same wind-bag from before.

“Yes, Cleetus?” Ignis’s smile was tight.

“Professor Scientia, as you were speaking I couldn’t help but remember an essay I came across in the Lucian History Journal the other day. The article was about the evolution of Lucian collective memory of the civil war.”

Gladio chuckled. “Oh boy. Here he goes again. This guy really can’t stop himself, can he?”

Noctis wasn’t laughing. He wanted Ignis to get back on topic and finish explaining why Invicta and the deconstructionists were wrong.

“According to the arguments propounded throughout the essay” - Gladio actually snorted at this point - “collective opinion regarding Invicta and the deconstructionists split after Lucis became a constitutional monarchy. Invicta was distanced from the deconstructionists and by means of propaganda -”

Bells went off in Noct’s head. Propaganda? What was this guy trying to get at?

“ - and state sanctioned school curriculum -”

Noctis gripped the arms of his desk, knuckles whitening.

“ - Invicta gradually became celebrated as one of the fathers of free speech. Meanwhile, his links to deconstructionists were covered up, preventing further instability to Lucian society while conveniently appropriating the parts that aligned with contemporary values.”

He paused for a breath. Ignis stepped out from behind the podium, quick to seize back control of the conversation.

“Your statements indicate a very post-modern interpretation of the historical records, Cleetus,” he remarked politely. “It’s interesting that you bring up social instability. Although not as commonly espoused today, there are ideologues who from time to time self-identify as deconstructionists. However, they are often ridiculed by both leftists and conservatives, rarely gaining any political legitimacy. In this way, the general public remains largely unexposed to contemporary deconstructionism outside of the occasional satirical representation on late night TV shows or the funnies.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

There was a rustle as heads turned in Noct's direction. Ignis adjusted his glasses.

“Is there something you would like to share, Prince Noctis?”

Shit. Gladio slid down low in his seat, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Smooth move, Noct.”

Noctis cleared his throat. His cheeks felt like two flames. “N- not particularly.”

“Very well.” Ignis returned his attention to the slides. Noctis averted his eyes, only to be met by the expectant gazes coming his way from the next row down. His gaze happened to fall on Cleetus, he shot him a particularly snide smirk from over his shoulder.

Something in Noctis snapped.

“It’s just that, you said ‘satirical.’”

Ignis stopped mid-sentence. Scandalized whispers rippled throughout the hall. Gladio was actually facepalming. Meanwhile, Noctis’s cheeks somehow managed to get even hotter. He felt the need to continue.

“I just thought - well, it sounds like you think those depictions are kind of inaccurate, or something.”

Gods, he was sounding extremely upset and defensive right now, wasn’t he? What had happened to all that training in diplomacy and public speaking? Embarrassing.

“Satire is merely a genre, your highness," Ignis demured. "One that hyperbolizes a real-life topic or theme with intent to criticize, ridicule or expose. We may identify this genre from a neutral standpoint without either validating or condemning the arguments contained within the work itself.”

Noctis schooled his expression so it’d look like he’d understood this last bit.

“But you said the satirical representation is the only representation people see. Doesn’t that imply that there’s another representation that most people don’t get to see?”

“There normally is more than one side to every story,” Ignis said lightly, and his lips curved in such a smug, handsome grin that Noctis could have chucked his laptop at him.

“Yeah, but sometimes one side has better evidence than the other one. Shouldn’t that also be part of the discussion?”

He was pressuring Ignis to agree with him, to say that the deconstructionists were “wrong” and the monarchy was “right” and therefore Noctis was right, too. That the deconstructionists were just radical, terrorist nutjobs whose hogwash theories did more harm than good, so why even bother discussing them at all? Noctis knew it. Gladio knew it. Most of all, Ignis probably knew it.

So why were they still disagreeing?

“Indeed. However, the objective of today’s lecture is merely to review the deconstructionism as an historical movement. I will leave the evaluation of the ideas espoused by said movement to all of you in your term papers.”

A smattering of chuckles. Oh yes, how adorable, how clever. Noctis opened his mouth to let loose another retort when Gladio nudged his foot.

"Let it go," he mouthed with a slight shake of his head. Noctis grit his teeth with an audible “tch,” nails biting into the surface of his palms. He deliberately avoided Gladio’s gaze, instead fixing his attention on his laptop. The Ghiranzenator taunted him from the other side of the screen, all chiseled jawline and knowing smile.

Noctis closed the laptop with a ‘snap.’

PT. II: 13:00 hours

“I was too hard on him, wasn’t I?”

The words were out of Ignis’s mouth before Gladio had even stepped through the door. The office was tiny - more like a closet, really. Gladio tossed a small paper bag onto the desk and pulled up a seat, careful not to spill the coffee in his other hand.

“What’s this?” Ignis asked, peering owlishly from behind his computer. Gladio handed over the coffee.

“Thought you could use a pick-me up," he replied. "And nah; Noct is tough. He gets worse from me during an average training session.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ignis mumbled, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. “Mmm, Gladio, this is delicious. Thank you.”

Gladio crossed his legs, leaning back with a pleased smile. “Heh. Thought you’d like that. And no, I’m not just saying that. Noct is pissed off, but he’ll live. Try some of the scone.”

Ignis reached into the paper bag obediently. “I should have waited until after class,” he muttered. “Or warned him about the topic before hand.”

“Yeah, that probably would’ve helped.”

“I just don’t want to allow him more special privileges than I already have! How am I supposed to prepare him for his future responsibilities if I keep treating him differently from the other students? Can you imagine, just last night he actually asked me to check his homework!”

“Did you?”

“What do you think?” Ignis snapped. “We live together for Eos’s sake, of course I did!"

“Yikes. How’s the scone?”

Ignis scowled. “You really must stop bringing me sugar. This is why my skin is breaking out.”

“One bite won’t hurt, prince charming.”

Ignis broke a off a tiny piece and popped it into his mouth, but not before shooting Gladio a glare.

“Relax, Iggy. Just give Noct a little time to cool down, think things through. He’ll come around.”

Ignis gave him a doubtful look. He took another bite.

“At least this scone is palatable.”

Gladio flashed him a cheeky smile. “Does that mean you’ll raise my grade professor?”

“I’ll consider it. After all, for an auditing student you do have unusually consistent attendance.”

“Someone’s gotta show up and keep the crown prince in line. Who better than his protector and professional babysitter, the royal shield?”

“Pity you have to sit through my lectures. I imagine it’s dull.”

“Nah. You’re way more interesting than the profs I had during my undergrad.”

‘A lot easier on the eyes, too,’ he thought. His gaze lingered on Ignis’s full, rosy lips before silently flickering away.

“There’s no need for flattery, Gladio. It’s not like I can actually give you credit for the course.”

“Sorry. Guess your little front row fan club is wearing off on me.”

Ignis reddened. He took a hurried sip of coffee, obviously stalling. Gladio grinned, letting himself indulge in the rare sight of a flustered Ignis.

“If the students show enthusiasm,” Ignis began, once he’d finished composing himself, “it is merely due to the engaging nature of the subject.”

“Oh, right. Lucian history makes me blush and squeal, too.”

“Did you come here for the sole purpose of force feeding me scones and distracting me from my work?”

“Why, is it working? Just kidding,” he added quickly at the stern look he received. “Actually, I thought we should touch base on our lovely royal charge’s training schedule over the Solstice. Iris has been bugging me about plans. She wants to invite the entire Amicitia clan over for a get-together.”

“Let me pull up my calendar.” Ignis swiveled in his chair, facing the computer monitor. Gladio contemplated his profile, thrown into sharp relief by the glow of the LED back-light. A million potential lines ran through his head. ‘It should be illegal to be so gorgeous.’ ‘You ever seen an angel up close? Because those cheekbones are high enough to graze the heavens.’

“Got any plans for the Solstice, Iggy?”

“I’m hoping to finish drafting my thesis proposal,” Ignis answered, with a light click of the mouse. “I’d also like to try my hand at a leiden sweet potato casserole. See if I can get Prince Noctis to eat something other than meat for a change.”

Gladio snickered. “Good luck with that last one. By the way, what’s your thesis about again? Food politics - “

“ - with Duscae as a case study for increased multifunctionality in agricultural policy making, yes.” Ignis spared him a brief glance, eyes crinkled with amusement. “I’m impressed you remember.”

‘Course I do,’ Gladio thought dismally. ‘I’ve Moogle searched every article you’ve ever published.’

Fortunately, he was spared the need to reply. One more click of the mouse, and Ignis was tilting the monitor in his direction.

“There we are. So, which dates does Iris have in mind?”

“She’s really got her eyes set on the day of the Solstice, as well the day right before and after. She needs me to help cook, put out decorations…”

‘Basically all the stuff we used to do when mom was around,’ he thought.

“I see. Why don’t I just make a note on my calendar for now? We can continue meeting as planned for the next two weeks. When it comes time, we'll evaluate how Noct is doing. Perhaps it won’t even be necessary for us to meet over the week of the Solstice.”

“Thanks Iggy. I appreciate it.”

“Certainly. It’s imperative that you spend quality time with your family over the holidays, uninterrupted.”

His smile was sad. Of course; Ignis didn't really have any family around to celebrate with. Gladio jiggled his knee, hesitating.

“H-hey, Iggy,” he began cautiously. “Y’know, if you don’t have any plans for the Solstice, you’re always welcome to - “

“Ah, Ignis! Just the man I was looking for.”

Ignis stood as two people Gladiolus had never seen before entered the office. The first was an attractive, bespectacled woman with golden hair swept back in an elegantly casual updo. Gladio, always the gentleman, rose instantly to his feet, pushing in his chair and squeezing back against the bookshelf in an effort to free up some space for her in the tiny room. She was followed by a pale young man who stood shoulder to shoulder with Gladiolus, which was a rare enough occurrence. What was really odd was Ignis's reaction. He blanched as the man entered. Then he was turning away to face the woman, almost as if he'd never even noticed the other visitor at all.

“Dr. Trepe! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Her lips curved in a perfect cupid’s bow. “Ignis, dear, how many times must I remind you? Call me Quistis. Anyway, I was just giving Prince Ravus a tour of the department.” She gestured toward the man beside her.

Oh - so that’s why he looked familiar. Gladio had often seen the royal Nox Fleuret duo on magazine covers or on TV. Ravus cut a striking figure in person, with his wintry complexion and dual colored eyes. He seemed to resent being watched, interrupting Gladio’s examination with a peculiarly frigid glare.

“Prince Ravus will be joining our department as a research scholar next semester,” Quistis explained. “Your majesty, Ignis is a grad student and TA in our department. As you may be aware, he also serves as the royal advisor to Crown Prince Noctis. He’s quite the feather in the department’s cap.”

Gladio beamed, eyeing Ignis with pride. What he saw surprised him. Iggy’s shoulders were tense, his face frozen in a mask of false politeness.

Something was wrong.

“Thank you, Dr. Trepe. As it stands, I’ve already had the good fortune of making Mr. Scientia’s acquaintance.”

Gladio’s eyes snapped in Ravus’s direction. His expression was unreadable, but his tone of voice suggested that whatever fortune had been at play was anything but “good.”

“Indeed.” Ignis mustered a weak smile. “I’m honored his highness remembers me.”

Ravus flinched, the movement so quick it was barely perceptible. Gladio glanced between them. Whatever vibe was going on here, he didn't like it one bit. He asked the question before he could stop himself.

“How do you two know each other?”

Ignis gasped. “Oh, by the six - where are my manners? Dr. Trepe - “

“Quistis.”

“Quistis” - Ignis blushed - “and Prince Ravus, please allow me to introduce Gladiolus Amicitia, Prince Noctis’s sworn shield, as well as one of my dearest friends.”

Gladio’s chest swelled until it threatened to burst. He crossed his arms, lip quirking up into a satisfied smirk.

'Dearest friend, huh?'

“I see,” Quistis murmured, tapping her chin. Her eyes ran up and down Gladio’s frame with an openly appraising look. “I apologize for interrupting your discussion, Gladiolus. I doubt we made a very good impression.”

“Meeting a colleague of Iggy’s is never an imposition,” Gladio assured her. “Especially not when that colleague is as elegant and beautiful as yourself.”

Quistis blushed, blue eyes sparkling behind her spectacles. “I never imagined the royal shield was such a charmer. You’ll have to bring him around more often, Ignis.”

There was a momentary, infinitesimal fracture in Ignis’s facade. “Yes, well, I daren’t keep his majesty any longer," he said quickly. "I’m sure you’re both quite eager to continue the tour. Prince Ravus, it truly was a pleasure seeing you again. I look forward to our collaboration in the coming semester.”

“As do I,” Ravus snapped, his words laced with such venom that even Quistis sent him a mildly startled look. “Dr. Trepe, shall we?”

“C-certainly. Gladiolus, it was a pleasure. And Ignis, we’ll be seeing you tonight at the reception, won’t we?”

“Of course. The Grand Hotel Insomnia at six o’ clock, correct?”

“Not exactly ideal weather for an event, is it?” Gladio interjected, frowning. “The roads are supposed to freeze after seven.”

Ignis dismissed him with a breezy laugh. “Yes, well, you know what they say Gladio - the show must go on! Until tonight then, Dr. Trepe...Prince Ravus.”

He bowed at the waist. Gladio rushed to follow suit, but not before glimpsing the pain that flashed across the prince’s strange, distant eyes. Then he was gone, sweeping off down the hall without a word of acknowledgement. Quistis rushed after him. Gladio waited until he no longer heard the clicking of her high heels before he spoke.

“What was that all about?”

Ignis began fussing with the papers on his desk. “Dr. Trepe was introducing the newest addition to our department.”

“Who you just happen to already know.”

“Is that so odd? You and I often cross paths with royalty in our line of work.”

“Uh-huh.” Gladio approached the desk, leaning over and splaying both hands across the surface. “So, you gonna tell me how you two actually know each other?”

“I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours,” Ignis replied, voice unusually clipped. Gladio ignored the sting.

“I’m just curious - y’know, as a dear friend and colleague. Why so defensive?”

Ignis slammed down a folder, nostrils flaring. “Fine. Spring 752. I did a semester in Tenebrae. Prince Ravus was a student at the university. We made acquaintance.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Gladio shrugged. “Dunno. Just thought I sensed some hostility between you two.”

“Enough, Gladio!”

The outburst stunned them both. Gladio took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair, trying fiercely not to look as hurt as he felt. After a long moment of silence, Ignis heaved a sigh.

“Forgive me, Gladio. It’s just a rather...unpleasant story, if I’m being honest. I wasn’t expecting to meet him like this, and...I’d rather not talk about it all just yet.”

Gladio chuckled harshly. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one being the asshole here. Sticking my nose in your business. But if you ever do feel like talking about it, or there’s any way I can help...just let me know.”

“Thank you, Gladio,” he said softly, and the smile he turned on him was so full of warmth and relief that it hurt to look at.

Gladio hurried to change the subject.

“You sure you’re good to go to this reception thing? Ravus will probably be there, too.”

“I’ll be fine. I merely need a moment to compose myself. I do apologize I won’t be able to join you at the gym today. I was quite looking forward to showing off my new gains.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. Gladio snorted.

“Save it for next time, hot shot. But seriously, Iggy - the roads are supposed to get pretty bad tonight. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Certainly; I’m sure Dr. Trepe would just love it if you popped by.”

“Iggy.”

“Don’t worry; I promise I’ll behave myself.”

“You better. Don’t wanna go setting a bed example for Noct.”

Ignis’s smile fell. Gladio rolled his eyes, reaching for the half-eaten pastry on the desk.

“Talk to ‘im,” he said through a mouthful of scone. “Better yet, feed him and then talk. He’s always in a better mood when his stomach’s full.”

“Oh Gladio.” Ignis shook his head. “If only I could be as certain as you are.”

‘But I’m not certain,’ Gladio thought to himself. The uncertainty followed him as he took his leave, wandering through the empty halls of the department alone. Noct could be stubborn, and Ignis had a tendency to cave in. Hopefully they'd be able to come to terms without too much of a fuss.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didnt see the figure rounding the corner, hurtling straight at him. He barely managed to come to a stop before they collided.

“Whoa there!” he exclaimed, stumbling backward. “My bad, are you - ?”

The charity in his voice withered and died as he looked up into the face of the passerby.

Ravus Nox Fleuret.

“Ahem. Pardon me, your majesty.” He stepped aside, the polite gesture a reflex after so many years as a retainer. Ravus, however, stood quite still, eyes fixed on Gladio intently - almost as if he were measuring him up.

Gladio’s jaw clenched.

“There a problem, highness?”

Ravus looked away, making a soft, dismissive noise in the back of his throat. He strode past Gladio with his nose held high, sharp footsteps echoing off the walls like a hailstorm. Gladio’s eyes narrowed, gaze following him over his shoulder. The uneasy feeling was back, creeping up from the pit of his stomach like clutching vines.

Whatever history Ravus and Iggy had together, Gladio had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the good kind.

He tore himself away with a sigh.

“Forget about it,” he muttered firmly. “Iggy can handle himself. It’s not like you have any say in the matter, anyway.”

Still, it was a good thing he kept a spare set of clothes locked up at the campus rec facility. He was gonna need an extra challenging workout today.

TBC...

#gladnis #promptis #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #ffx #gladiolus amicitia #ignis stupeo scientia #fanfic

[fanforthefics]

3. Sidgeno

3. teacher/student au, or: 

The Class of the Magi 

Sid gets out of bed early, like he always does. It is, maybe, hard to leave the warmth of the bed, but he’s been doing his early morning workouts for years now and he’s not going to stop now. 

So he wakes up early, rolls out of bed, and goes for a run. It’s the best sort of wake up there is, he’s always thought, getting his muscles moving, watching the town wake up. 

Then he gets back, downs about a bottle of gatorade, and jogs back into the bedroom, where the lump on the bed still hasn’t moved. 

“Hey.” Sid leans down, shakes his shoulder. “Wake up.” 

Geno rolls over, gives Sid a baleful look. “Nyet.”

Sid grins at him. His hair’s all messy, and he looks so grumpy, and Sid loves him a lot. “It’s time to get up.” 

“Time for crazy person to get up,” Geno mutters, and tugs the blankets up. Sid catches them. He’s all sweaty so he doesn’t really want to properly straddle Geno like he’d like to, so instead he just leans down closer. 

“I’m going to go shower.” 

“Good, can sleep more.” Geno shuts his eyes again. 

“You could join me.” One of Geno’s eyes open. Sid smirks. “I’m just back from my run.” 

Geno’s other eye opens. Sid doesn’t bother looking innocent. Sid knows, and Geno knows he knows, just how much he likes peeling Sid out of his workout clothes. Sid doesn’t really get it–he’s gross and sweaty, it’s not particularly attractive–but Geno’s into it, and it gives Sid even more motivation to work out, so everyone wins, and Sid’s not going to not take advantage of it. 

“Evil, Sid,” Geno tells him, and then he grabs Sid’s t-shirt and pulls him down as he rolls, so Sid ends up on his back with Geno on top of him, glaring down in a way that would be a lot more convincing if he weren’t also staring at Sid’s lips. 

“Come on, Geno. I’m gross. Now we’re going to have to change the sheets,” Sid complains, also probably not convincingly. He’s got no complaints about where he is. 

Now it’s Geno’s turn to smile smugly. “If we have to change anyway, might as well take advantage,” he decides, and really, he has a point. 

///

They do eventually shower, and then Geno works on getting dressed as Sid goes into the kitchen to start on breakfast. They aren’t usually breakfast people–Sid’s the type to grab a protein bar or smoothie on his way out, and Geno’s the type to sleep until noon when breakfast is no longer relevant, which he claims it the prerogative of a grad student–but today, Sid thinks its worth it. 

Geno wanders out of the bedroom a few minutes later, comes over to watch as Sid beats some eggs into batter. “Pancakes?” he asks, hopeful. 

“First day of the new semester pancakes,” Sid agrees. “Coffee in the machine.” 

“Love you,” Geno tells him, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, which always makes Sid make a face because he’s not actually short, dammit, and goes to get coffee. “We have bacon too?” 

“Are you planning to make it?” Sid asks. He’s finished making the batter, so he pours a careful cup onto the griddle. 

“Siiiid,” Geno whines, and comes close again to crowd against Sid’s back and nuzzle into his neck. Sid can smell the coffee on his breath, mixed with the mint of his toothpaste. “Bacon best way to celebrate first day of semester.” 

“Oh it is?” Sid asks, rolling his eyes, but they both know he’s going to cave, because Geno is an unrepentant bully about shit like this and Sid has a problem saying no to him. 

“Yes,” Geno informs him, and there’s a shit-eating grin in his voice even if Sid’s not going to look at him to see it. “Definitely.”

“Ugh, fine.” Sid sighs. “Go get it.”

“You best,” Geno informs him, and goes to get the bacon. 

They eat at the counter, Sid shoveling in food because he’s still hungry from his run and Geno half eating and half laughing at Sid. it’s mainly in silence, because they’ve done this for almost two years now, but it’s comfortable. Easy. Sid can imagine doing it for another fifty. Even if he hasn’t actually said as much yet, because he knows he gets intense fast and it can be a lot for some people. He doesn’t think it will be for Geno, but it’s better not to risk it. 

Sid’s phone buzzes halfway through beakfast, and he grabs it to check it, smiles. 

“Flower and Vero are really enjoying Paris, it looks like,” Sid says, handing the phone to Geno so he can see the picture of the two of them in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Even if they’re going to the most touristy places, seriously.” 

“Good that they can manage schedule like that,” Geno agrees, handing back the phone. Sid lets out a longing sigh. 

“Next year,” he promises, like he has for a semester. God, he is so sick of classes. “I won’t be tied to classes anymore.” 

“You want to travel, then?” Geno asks, looking at Sid’s phone with a twist to his lips. 

Sid shrugs. “On two grad student’s salaries? Let’s be real. Flower swung that trip because Vero is actually gainfully employed.” He barely pauses at the brief confusion on Geno’s face. “She’s employed in a real way,” he clarifies. He’s used to that–Geno’s english is great for someone who only came to the US for his PhD, but it’s far from perfect. The little translation things like that are easy. Sid knows that it gets harder, sometimes, when they both get frustrated about their inability to communicate big ideas or what they’re feeling, but little things like this are easy. 

“Okay, but–if money does not matter,” Geno insists. “You want travel? Go to Europe?”

“I mean, it’d be cool.” Sid shrugs again. “I’ve never been. I’d like to be someplace interesting, for a change.” He grins at Geno. “You could show me Russia.” 

Geno’s face does the complicated twisting thing that comes up when he thinks about Russian politics, which isn’t what Sid meant to do. He knows that the mere fact of him makes life difficult for Geno, and he can’t regret it, really–he doesn’t want to be anyone other than he is, and he wouldn’t give Geno up for anything–but he doesn’t like that it’s true. 

“Anyway,” Sid goes on, before Geno can think about it too much. “It’s just a pipe dream, because we’re going to be paying off student loans for the next forever, and until you discover the cure for cancer, traveling’s not in the budget.” 

“How about when you become prime minister?” Geno counters, smiling again, and Sid rolls his eyes and tries not to look pleased about how much Geno believes in him. 

Then he looks at the clock. “Oh, shit, I should get dressed.” he puts his plate aside, then leaves the door to the bedroom open as he pulls on jeans. “Are you in the lab until late?”

“No, can be home by seven,” Geno calls back. “Library?” 

“I’ve got class until three.” Sid grabs a plain grey t-shirt and tugs it on, then comes back out into the living room, scooping up his computer and the notebook it’s sitting on so he can shove it into a bag. “Then yeah, I’ll be in the library. Text about dinner?“

“Good,” Geno agrees, and catches Sid by the arm to reel him in before he goes to put his shoes on. Sid lets him draw him in, then kiss him, long and slow. “Happy first day of semester,” he says, and Sid grins back at him. 

“Happy first day of the semester,” he agrees, and heads to his first class. 

He has a seminar on Intellectualism and Democracy in Post-War North America  first, and then he grabs lunch on his way to his next class. He settles in near the back–it’s more of an undergrad class, even if he spots a few other grad students he knows around–and opens up his computer to take notes on. Geno’s texted, proposing Indian for dinner; Sid agrees, but only if Geno picks it up from the good place that doesn’t deliver. 

The professor starts talking about the syllabus, and Sid glances up, sees him–a man probably ten years older than Sid, with blonde hair that’s thinning in a way that Sid associates with Russians, even if he will never ever tell Geno that–then looks back down at his computer. He has emails about the grad student hockey league to field, and his advisor’s starting to push him on really narrowing down a topic for his thesis. 

“And also here with us are our two teaching assistants,” Professor Gonchar goes on. Sid tunes in with half an ear–they’ll be doing grading, have office hours, Sid knows how that works– “Natasya Ivanov, and Evgeni–” Sid looks up, eyes wide. And yes, there he is–Sid would know him from miles away at this point. “Malkin.” 

Geno looks out at the students, and Sid can tell the moment he meets Sid’s eyes, because he is clearly feeling the same as Sid–oh, shit. 

///

“Fuck.” 

“Yes,” Geno agrees. They’re standing in the hall outside the class–thankfully, no one had given them second looks as everyone else left class, probably because no one knew either of them yet. Geno leans against the wall. 

“What are we going to do?” 

“Maybe I’m not grade anything of yours. Not a problem.” 

“That’s not a solution!” Sid hisses. “Why didn’t you check the roster before class?” 

Geno rolls his eyes. “I’m think only undergrads take Introduction to Russian.” 

“Why are you even TAing a Russian class?” Sid demands, because that’s easier than freaking out completely. “You have a full schedule, with your other TAing and your labwork.” 

“I fit it in,” Geno says, but he’s looking shifty. 

“Geno.” 

“I want little more cash, fine.” Geno crosses his arms over his chest looking sulky like he always does when he’s forced to admit something he didn’t want to. “Why you in the class?” 

Sid focuses on Geno’s face. “I need it for my thesis.” 

“If you want learn Russian, I teach.”

Now Sid rolls his eyes. “Geno, the Russian you teach me is not something I can use in my thesis.” 

Geno’s smile flashes. Whatever, maybe Sid’s getting conditioned to hearing certain Russian phrases in bed, and maybe it really works for him. That’s not relevant right now. “We can’t both be doing this. It violates–some code of conduct. And looks really bad for both of us, if it gets out. You’ll have to back out of TAing. Can you find someone else to do it?” 

“I’m not back out!” Geno protests. 

“You don’t need the money–” 

“Why you not drop class?” 

“I need it for my thesis!” 

“Your thesis on Canada and US, not Russia! It not relevant. Can drop.” 

“My schedule’s set for the semester, if I drop it now it’ll mess everything up–”

“So I have to mess everything up?” Geno demands, straightening up to his full height so he can loom. Sid is very into it when he does that to be sexy, but not when he does that to intimidate. Especially because Sid has plenty of muscle on him. “Why not you?” 

“It’d be easier for you–” 

“I’m make commitment, Sid!” 

“I can’t change my schedule, Geno!” Sid snaps back, and then they’re both glaring, breath coming hard. 

Geno breaks first, and by breaking it means literally breaking into a torrent of angry Russian. “You so fucking stubborn,” he spits at Sid, who glares back. That’s not a surprise to anyone. 

“No duh,” Sid retorts, which he knows as soon as he says it is the wrong thing to say, because Geno hates people condescending to him more than anything. 

“I’m not drop class,” he tells Sid, and stalks off down the hall. 

“Fine!” Sid yells back. “You can be the one violating policy.” 

“Fine!” Geno yells over his shoulder, and Sid doesn’t wait to hear more before storming out the other way. 

///

Sid spends an angry afternoon in the library, trying to do reading and getting distracted trying to find the university policy for this. He can’t seem to find anything–there are policies for undergrads, and for professors and their grad students, but nothing for two grad students who are in a preestablished romantic relationship who end up being in and TAing the same class. Sid doesn’t get it. They can’t be the first people in this situation. 

Finally, he gives it up for lost, and goes home. Geno clearly hasn’t been back to the apartment since he left this morning–the dishes are done from breakfast but the griddle is still soaking in the sink, and there’s still the pile of clothes on the bed that Geno always goes through before he chooses an outfit that he usually ends up putting away when he gets back, if Sid hasn’t done it first. 

Sid has gotten here first, so he puts the clothes away this time. They’re all so ugly, Sid thinks, fondly. He does not get Geno’s aesthetic at all. 

“I can do,” Geno says, when Sid’s mostly done. Sid looks up. Geno’s leaning on the doorframe, watching Sid warily. His taste is so bad, but Sid could still look at him forever. “Was going to.” 

“I got home first, it’s fine.” Sid hangs up the last shirt. “There, done.” 

“I pick up dinner,” Geno tells him, a clear peace offering. Sid nods. 

They set dinner out on the coffee table, pushing aside the assorted books that usually cover it, and dish out their usual orders. Sid takes a bite. It really is good. And it’s out of Geno’s way. And he can feel Geno watching him, wary and sidelong. 

“I just don’t know how to make this right,” Sid says, setting his fork down. “I’ve been looking all afternoon, and I honestly can’t tell if it’s a violation, but I don’t want anything to smear your reputation, and this could look really bad.” 

“I know.” Geno sets his fork down too. “Sid, why you want take Russian class? Not for thesis.” 

“I–” Sid glances down at his plate, but it’s Geno. He trusts Geno not to be overwhelmed by him. “I just imagine this lasting a long time, and if it does, it’s not fair to you that I can’t speak Russian, at least a little. I want us to be able to communicate. And that means I need to learn Russian.” 

“Sid,” Geno breathes, and there’s the sort of wonder in his voice he had when Sid asked him out. When Sid agreed to moving in together. Sid looks up again, and Geno’s looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world. Then he grins, breaking the moment. “Think that sweetest thing you ever said.” 

“Fuck you, I can be sweet,” Sid retorts, but he knows he’s grinning stupidly too. “What about you? Why do you need the extra money so badly? I thought you were fine.” 

“Am, but.” Now it’s Geno’s turn to go a little red. “You talk about travel, about how Flower and Vero go places, Tanger and Cath–I’m want to take you somewhere nice too. You work hard, deserve it. Deserve all nice things.” 

“Geno,” Sid says, but he can’t help his smile. “You know I don’t care about that. I’m happy wherever you are.” 

“Not mean you not deserve nice vacation,” Geno insists, stubborn. “Also, want to fuck you on beach.” 

Sid snorts. “That I can get behind.” 

“No, I be behind,” Geno corrects, eyes glinting, and Sid bursts into laughter. 

“So, this doesn’t resolve anything, though,” Sid points out, when they’ve finished laughing and Geno’s foot is pressed agains this thigh again. “I mean, we could both drop the class, but–”

“We can ask,” Geno suggests. 

“Ask?” 

Geno shrugs. “If policy not clear, maybe no rule. Worst thing, Professor Gonchar says no, and we figure out then.” 

Sid considers. “Can’t hurt, I guess,” he admits, and Geno grins, then takes Sid’s plate, and sets it aside. 

“Fight done?” 

“That was barely a fight,” Sid objects. Their fights tend to be long and passive aggressive and end in someone sleeping on a friends’ couch. 

“Sid, fight done,” Geno asks again, and scoots closer. “Means we made up.” 

“Oh.” Sid still doesn’t love the semantics of it, but also, “Yeah,” he agrees, and tugs Geno in for some make up sex. 

///

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” 

“What?” Sid asks. He’d expected Professor Gonchar to put up at least a little more of a fuss. “Just like that?” 

“We can make sure that Natasya or I grade all your papers, and we’ll make a note that I’m aware and have agreed to it.” Professor Gonchar nods. “Neither of you are undergraduates, and from what I’ve heard from faculty, both of you are good people. That should be fine.” 

“But–” Geno’s hand closes around Sid’s waist, his fingers digging in. 

“Thank you,” he says in English, then adds something else in Russian. The professor chuckles. 

“I’ll expect a lot from you, Sidney, if you have your own private Russian tutor,” he says, and then gives them both the sort of look that means a professor is moving on. “Anything else?” 

This is too easy. Sid’s still not sure this is right. “Professor–” 

“No,” Geno interrupts, and pinches Sid, hard enough that he has to work not to jump. “Is all. Thank you, Professor, see you for meeting.” 

Professor Gonchar is clearly trying not laugh at them, but he doesn’t say anything as they leave. 

“I still don’t think it should work like that,” Sid says, as soon as the office door closes behind them. “That doesn’t seem right. I could definitely like, get you to tell me test answers, or–” 

“Sid–” 

“Or even just hints on the test, or–” 

“Sid,” Geno says again, and puts a hand over his mouth. Sid shuts up, but glares. “We win. Is good.” Sid glares harder. “And if you so worries about morals, then probably not a problem.” 

Sid waits for him to move his hand, then, “But other people might not be– fine, I’ll stop!” he yelps, dodging Geno’s hand. 

“Good.” Geno grins. “See, no problem. Is fine. You learn Russian and we go on trip.” 

“Yeah, we really worked the system,” Sid agrees, but he knows he’s pouting. 

“Hmm.” Geno hums, then he glances around, and pulls Sid into an empty class room, and then in short order against the door. “You want test answers so bad? Maybe need to ask really nice.” 

“What– Geno!” Sid sputters, when Geno waggles his eyebrows at him. “No, that’s creepy, we actually do teach kids.” 

“I actually do teach you, now,” Geno points out, and then murmurs something in Russian that Sid has definitely heard him say before when things are getting good. 

“That’s unfair,” Sid complains, but he gets his hands into Geno’s hair. “Also, we should do this at home.” 

“So boring, Sid,” Geno sighs, but he steps away from Sid–or he would, if Sid let him go. Which he hasn’t. 

“Yeah, but you like it,” Sid points out, grinning. He pulls at Geno’s hair until he leans down, closer to Sid. “Now what do I have to do to get a Russian lesson around here?” 

“I’m give you lesson,” Geno grumbles, and then stops grumbling when Sid shuts him up with a kiss. 

#pens fic #my fic #here have 3k of silly established relationship fluff #instead of the edgy power dynamics that i think you wanted #sorry :/ #actual teacher/student stuff squicks me out #so have cute instead! #Anonymous #pens tumblr fic

[dhominis]

Complaining about me having Food Issues. This is vaguely whiny and has way too many details and wow I’m gonna regret posting it!

Also, caveat: this is a vent post, but pretty much everything in my life is amazingly good right now and I am so lucky. Not representative of my broader brainstate.

Advice welcomed. “This part sounds stupid and distorted-thinking-y” especially welcomed.

CW: If there’s anything health or food/weight-related you want to avoid you should probably not open the readmore; the post consists mostly of detailed discussion of Things That Look Like An Eating Disorder.

The last half of 2018 was bad for me; it culminated in me dropping out of college and finally moving away from my parents (like, half a continent away), and things are weirdly better now. I am happy and healthy-adjacent and resolving Personal Problems that have been insoluble for most of my life.

(The home environment was not conducive to proper emotional development.)

Almost every part of it has been strangely easy. Getting an apartment, getting a job, managing money, catching up on the Normal Young Adult social skills. It feels like I’ve just got more cognitive resources to devote to life, now.

...The only thing that hasn’t become easy is food.

I don’t get hungry often enough, and when I do experience hunger, it doesn’t motivate me to eat (I’ve been describing this as essentially pain asymbolia but for hunger). I also just don’t enjoy eating -- intellectually I can recognize when food tastes good, but it’s still unpleasant to eat it. (Not an anhedonia thing! Other pleasant stimuli are far more enjoyable than they were a few months ago and life is amazing.)

There also are a lot of gastrointestinal symptoms -- nausea and pain, et cetera. They have been present at a low level for a while but worsen when I don’t maintain a relatively stable caloric intake. (I can’t eat because I am in pain! I am justified in not eating! Never mind that eating causes significant pain specifically because I haven’t eaten in a few days.)

Inflammatory and celiac markers are normal, IBS could explain part of it but not really the upper GI tract symptoms. It is maybe plausible that this is an autonomic thing? I already have a lot of autonomic dysfunction things and sometimes people with my connective tissue problems have weird gut motility. (Incomplete listing of symptoms I get that are plausibly gut-dysmotility-related: passive regurgitation and GERD and cramping and diarrhea and upper GI pain and vomiting and postprandial nausea/fullness and occasional difficulty swallowing and other things I am forgetting about right now.)

It also is plausible that at least some of this is psychosomatic -- stress sometimes seems to make it worse -- but the broader cluster hasn’t always coincided with periods of emotional stress. The first time the symptoms interfered with my ability to eat was during one of the happiest and most low-stress parts of my life, and it definitely preceded the Food Doesn’t Feel Good problem. (And autonomic dysfunction worsens with stress too.) Although it maybe helped condition me not to want to eat, since eating causes a grab-bag of annoying symptoms.

(the most accurate diagnosis probably is “neurotic-intellectual with-ill-defined-GI-problems syndrome”)

Having food in my stomach feels bad and wrong in a way that is not about the physical pain. (Meal replacement shakes and protein powders mostly fix this but are not financially feasible, are often incredibly low-calorie, and also if I’m mostly doing liquid calories I get worse physical symptoms when I do solid food.)

The maladaptive food behaviors have been present on and off for most of my life, and the GI symptoms have been a thing since like... early 2018?, but last semester was the first time I’d consistently gone for months with an energy deficit; I’ve had a lifelong tendency to not do well with eating but never to this extent. But this was -- there were some weeks when I ate maybe four meals, some two- or three-day periods when I didn’t eat.

Predictably I lost weight. (Weight loss is not good! I like having energy stores and muscle mass and also being able to sit on the floor without my ass hurting.) I lost enough weight that my doctor got really worried; I was not overweight and am edging down towards the lower end of the reasonable range. She was definitely worried in the context of physical symptoms, but I suspect that if I had presented the cause of the weight loss slightly differently, she would have been worried about the psych component. It’s stupid too. I do not want to lose weight! I want to have enough energy to do shit without dipping into fat stores!

Also last semester: vomiting. The postprandial nausea occasionally has been bad enough that it makes me vomit. (I have a supply of ondansetron and this is no longer an issue.) More frequently the postprandial nausea is bad enough that I can’t tolerate it, it’s a constant reminder that there is food where it should not be, and I induce vomiting. I haven’t done this since I moved out, but I have really really wanted to. Ondansetron helps here too but not completely. Or I don’t have nausea, but there is food in my stomach and this feels really unpleasant and, well, there’s one thing that’ll fix it right away (plus give me a nice adrenaline rush).

Solutions: ondansetron; don’t go to the bathroom for a while after I eat; if eating at home, try to do meals when my roommates are home so I can’t vomit because they’d hear it; distract myself until I don’t feel horribly full.

(Which takes a while, sometimes. Maybe too long. I have vomited basically undigested food a few hours after a meal. Not sure whether that’s abnormal, and if it is it’s really plausible that I did this to myself by not eating enough. Gastric emptying is not my strong suit?)

...Going days without eating because I just don’t want to. Weight loss. Defective hunger response. Being exhausted and not having the energy to eat. Hiding this from people, too; I had told people about the physical symptoms but not the fundamental aversion to eating, not the going days without eating. Conscious displays: mixing coconut cream into tea, here, I am eating, this is eating, I am making an effort, it is not my fault. And a refusal to reduce physical activity. I generally ate only dinner, if that, but still spent my breaks between classes pacing around campus. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. (Sometimes I justified this as an attempt to maintain muscle mass. That is patently stupid and honestly I could have just done some squats if that was my real goal. I didn’t have a real goal. The closest thing I had to a goal was -- keep moving.)

This guide from a SSC reader convinced me to treat my eating problems like a thing that is actually bad, not like “oh my stomach hurts if I eat so I’ll just not do that.” (Also took it more seriously after I started having difficulty resisting the urge to vomit.) But, uh. It’s scarily familiar. I am trying really hard to eat enough.

I’d hoped that getting out of the supremely stressful situation would help with the eating problems. To some extent it has -- I’ve been able to force myself to eat every day, there’ve been only one or two days per week where I’ve skipped one meal, I haven’t vomited since I left. As of three weeks ago I hadn’t had substantial further weight loss. Eating still is difficult to an extent that I can’t really understand, and it’s difficult when nothing else is. Finding an apartment was easy. Getting a job was easy. Work has been fun and easy and amazing. But pretty much every meal has been a struggle, I’ve been having to force-feed myself, I’ve felt more distress about putting food in my body than about anything else since I left home.

If it doesn’t settle down soon it’ll be pretty tiring. I am concerned that this level of effort is not sustainable.

And... I need to buy a scale. (Spending money is not a skill I have. I don’t like it and I don’t want to do it. Even on food and transportation. So I pretty regularly walk several miles instead of taking the damn bus, and if I forget to bring lunch I just won’t eat at work.) I suspect that I’ve started losing weight again, in large part because my physical activity is way up and I am really busy. Also I underestimate how many calories I need. I am young and physically active and hormonally male and it’s not reasonable to expect e.g. three 500-kcal meals and a snack to let me maintain weight, let alone gain it. It feels like I am eating so much and this probably isn’t true.

(Tracking caloric intake has historically been a bad idea, because my brain doesn’t do effortful things well, and there’s an observer effect: if I have to expend the necessary effort to write down what I ate, I will probably just not eat the thing so I don’t have to expend the effort. This was true even back when I liked eating.)

I don’t know. It might get better -- I’m putting a lot of effort into it but it’s reasonable that the eating problems aren’t resolving in the month and a half since I left home. Everything else has gotten substantially better and the food issues are only lagging by comparison. I am young and impatient. Also, I’ve gone from [regularly going days without eating, vomiting after I eat, losing a lot of weight really fast] to not doing any of that; this is a huge success and I am complaining about it not being completely solved within a month and a half!

In another month and a half I’ll have health insurance. If it hasn’t improved more by then, I’ll try to find a therapist. (Three months of having Significant Food Issues when not in a horribly stressful environment absolutely is enough to justify spending money on the copay.)

...I am worried it’ll get worse and I won’t notice or I’ll try to hide it. I am worried that it won’t get better and I’ll consider getting therapy and then not be able to stomach (pun intended!) the $20 copay, because even though I am financially secure enough for that not to be an issue, it’s twenty dollars and I don’t spend money on things. I am worried that it won’t get worse but it also won’t get better and I’ll have to spend the next several decades hating food and intensely wanting to vomit for like an hour after every meal.

(There are safeguards and I probably will not hide symptoms getting worse. I am pretty confident I can make myself find a therapist. I’ve had this problem for only six or seven months and most of that was under circumstances that extremely will not continue and I’ve gotten way better at handling it and it is way too early to be worried about this lasting indefinitely.)

Eh, I don’t know. I am handling it, I am taking steps to handle it. It sucks but I’m not concerned about my ability to handle and/or fix things that suck. Life’s awesome. Worst-case scenario is I just have to spend stupid amounts of money on meal-replacement drinks and get all my calories that way.

The best-case scenario, according to my brain: a doctor prescribes meal-replacement drinks and I get adequate nutrition and don’t have to eat solid food and also don’t have to pay for it. This would be really nice! I recognize that it’s not exactly great that I see this as the best-case scenario. A more reasonable best-case scenario: I figure out how to enjoy or at least not actively hate eating, and then I just do that like a normal person.

it’ll be fine even if it kind of sucks short-term

#cw eating disorder #cw disordered eating #cw vomiting #cw health problems #cw weight #cw me being neurotic #just heed the CWs; it's a vent post #personal #news from meatspace #original post #long post

[impossibledreamartisanflowe-blog]

My Journey in Finding My Best School for College

Kurt Russell Manuel is the name, a young man driven with purpose. I am currently 17 years old studying at Adamson University on Senior High School level currently staying in Multinational Village, Paranaque. I’m living with my parents and siblings our family is doing fairly-well since my mother is an accountant and my father is a VIP bodyguard but trust me when I say that I say that we are not rich. I have a background in theatre artistry since I have been acting for some small groups in our city. Aside from acting on-stage, I have been passionate for writing too. Expressing feelings through a creative way has been doing well for me.

 It is my last year of stay here in Adamson coz I will be graduating this coming May. I am taking Humanities and Social Sciences as my strand which is strongly related to politics, government, psychology and social stuff, I have chosen it because my strengths intellectually lies in here. While taking the strand I have discovered one of my new interest that could potentially make me a successful man, I then discovered that I could do well in the field of politics. Most of my classmates have noticed that potential due to some events that I believe I did well in. After a lot of evaluating on what course shall I take in college I have chosen the course shall I take in college I have chosen the course that I’m interested to, I have skills to do good in and has a big chance that I will be successful after I finish it, I have chosen political science.

 My struggle of choosing what course I shall take is done but then if I wanted to be a successful man I shall have a good channel to have it done and what channel is it? Of course a good school, there is a lot of schools we have here in Manila and all of them are relatively great but then not all of them can cater the needs that I have and that would be another journey I believe. I need to find a school that have already proven itself in producing workers that is good if not great in the field of political science. It should fit my needs like it shall be convenient and its tuition shall be attainable to my financial capacity. My current adviser Mr. Sean Estoque gave many ideas in where I can find school for he struggled in finding his school for college too, after a brief talk, he then told me of all the good schools that can potentially make me a successful man. We the found out that most of these schools are just near here in Adamson, in fact most of them are just located in the University Belt so I worked my ass on and made myself available for the possible inquiring I will do. After having our mind-terms exam for the first semester I have fixed my requirements that will be needed to make a reservation for the entrance exams, it went pretty well since I don’t need to travel that far to be there.

             After the tiring day, I have felt a good connection into two universities I have visited. Some of the schools that I and Sir Estoque had discussed about is good and some are great but then not all of them fits me, who I wanted to be and in some cases, I just can’t  keep up with the expensive fees they require, then I came into the University of the East. Their registrar there is very welcoming and made me feel as if I belong in there and they also offered scholarship for the aspiring theatre actor and that opportunity would be great if ever I pass on their entrance exam. Another University that I believe could suit my needs and me is far Easter University, before I believe that their tuition is so expensive that it is giving their not so blessed financially students a hard time but then as I inquire there I have learned that they are very generous in giving their students tuition fees and just like the other school they are giving a scholarship in the aspiring  members of their theatre group but the coverage is just the miscellaneous but then it costs a lot of money that is beneficial for me as a student.

 I believe that any of which is a good choice, for now I have taken my entrance exam in UE and I am just waiting for the result if I have passed or not. After all their entrance exam is not that difficult for my understanding and the chances of me passing there is pretty big, my exam with the FEU will be held this coming November 18 and I am currently reviewing for it. I hope that I will pass in it because as far as I know FEU and UE can potentially make a successful man.

[parismiki]

“How is Paris?”

Hello readers! Welcome to my blog. I’ve been meaning to write a blog for some time now, really since my days in Chicago, but I never felt this urge until now. Currently I feel like I am being tested to my limits and I have so many thoughts about so many different things. Writing has always been an outlet of mine (have kept journals since I learned how to hold a pen basically) and so here it is - a window of insight into my thoughts about a variety of different things. 

I don’t really have a theme for this blog, but I know it will touch on issues that are important to me: race, activism, Japanese American and Asian American identity, feminism, mental health, radical politics, etc. Given that I’m currently also in France with the generous help of a Fulbright scholarship (a lot will be discussed soon about this), my posts may be more focused on my current experience in France and how I have been navigating this foreign country. 

So, to start, many people have been asking me how Paris has been. There is some sort of illusory expectation that people have of my time here in Paris - that I’m happily eating baguettes every day (I am not -- I eat only rice and noodles), that I’m picnicking by the Seine, and I’m going to all these cool art galleries and museums on the daily. 

This could be farther from the truth. 

I am struggling. 

This is not the same experience that I had studying abroad through UChicago three years ago, where I took classes in English taught by UChicago professors at the UChicago Center in Paris with UChicago classmates. I had a huge safety net while I was here, which enabled me to go out and explore the city and meet new locals while still feeling rooted to a community of American students. I didn’t need to get a visa because I was here for less than 90 days, the housing situation was largely taken care of by the study abroad coordinator, and I was used to the UChicago pedagogy. The huge difference here is that I am going to grad school in Paris, working towards a professional degree, which entails a large degree of responsibility, self-reliance and resilience. 

However, this past month has been incredibly difficult for me. The workload is intense, unlike anything I saw in my quarters with the heaviest workloads at UChicago. I am taking eight classes that meet once a week. For one of my core classes, I must read four books for the midterm, which is less than a month away. Work is always on the back of my mind and I fear that I may miss an assignment.  There is rarely any time to be resting or relaxing, because I tell myself, well you could be using this time to study. 

As someone prone to anxiety, the workload and the added stress of being in a new country has taken quite a toll on me. There have been days where it has been hard to get out of bed and days where I feel like I’m just dragging throughout the day. Sometimes I wonder, “is this program worth it? Should I drop out?” but am quickly reminded that if I do, I lose my Fulbright scholarship. Additionally, Sciences Po is not the friendliest when it comes to their students’ mental health - their psychological services are minimal, and they fail you if you miss more than 2 classes (yes, attendance is taken in even the biggest of lecture classes.) I could go on and on about Sciences Po as an institution, but I can save that for another post. I have had to resume sessions with my therapist in Chicago because the French national healthcare system does not cover therapy services! 

Despite all this, I’ve managed to find small pockets of joy during my time here and have really forced myself to practice self-care. One could say that my most recent FB status asking for self-practice tips was a cry for help - surely I couldn’t be the only one who has gone through this. So here’s what has been working for me so far - and you don’t have to be in grad school either to abide by them!

1. Rely on your family and friend networks back home

Thank god for technology - I remember my dad telling me that when he was in college he had to wait in line in his dorm to use the landline to call his parents. I can’t even imagine how my mother kept in touch with her family back in Japan when she immigrated to the US (will write another post on my newfound appreciation for my mom as I transition to life here.) 

That being said, I text regularly with my friends and keep them updated about what’s going on in my life. Some others are also living abroad and it’s nice to know that we have each other’s backs -- one of my dear friends is doing her JET program in rural Kumamoto. She is 7 hours ahead of me, and always texts me a nice meme or a cute gif that I have the honor of waking up to. Last night I felt especially horrible and called one of my friends (who is going to start her master’s in philosophy at Oxford and we’ll be reunited soon!) who helped me calm down. As people starting new lives in new countries we often forget that we have a support system back home, but don’t forget - they helped to get you where you are. 

2. Read books that nurture your soul

I have always loved to read in order to learn new perspectives, but reading now serves a different purpose: it touches and nurtures my soul. When I first got here, I devoured Ruth Ozeki’s novel A Tale for the Time Being - it was a charming and quirky story that whisked me away to British Columbia/Tokyo. I didn’t know how much I needed it at the time. Currently I’m reading a sociology book called Redefining Japaneseness: Japanese Americans and the Ancestral Homeland, which is so comforting and keeps me super rooted to my own identity. 

I was pretty strategic when packing books and spent a good hour deciding which books to bring with me. I knew that I would be reading a lot of dry public policy and urban theory (I even discussed with my roommate, also an American woman of color, which books we would both bring should we want to borrow from each other’s shelves.) So I brought with me Matthew Desmond’s Evicted (which, luckily enough for me, I ended up having to write a paper on), Viet Thanh Nguyen’s The Sympathizer, which won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction; Keeanga Yamahtta-Taylor’s From #BlackLivesMatter to Black Liberation, and Louise Erdrich’s The Round House (Erdrich is a Native American fiction writer who writes heavily on Native American issues.) I’ve found that conversations surrounding racial justice are quite lacking in French academic discourse, so these books help to fill that gap in my life. In addition, I brought with me some Japanese language books, including ”コンビニ人間” and “君たちはどう生きるか” to practice my Japanese, because I don’t have access to Japanese TV anymore. 

3. Keep yourself intellectually accountable

One of the best pieces of advice I received from the director of the Humanity in Action fellowship I did this past summer was to keep yourself accountable by writing down your own thoughts and critiques of grad school readings in the margins when taking notes. I’ve found that a lot of the readings we are assigned take on a very neoliberal approach to cities and urbanism, and I am incredibly cynical. Sometimes, I just downright disagree. And instead of feeling exasperated by the content, I write down my critiques and will try to bring them up in class, sometimes daring to bring them up with the professor during lectures. This is how I try to stay engaged. 

4. Travel! 

Paris is pretty accessible to many other European countries by plane and train. In fact, just last weekend I was in Madrid visiting a few friends. I was not feeling my best and and even now I still feel awful for my low energy and that I was not as cheery as I hoped to be - but being around people you already know is comforting. In fact, I had a chance to reconnect with a friend from college who is a current Fulbright ETA in Madrid, who told me that he was feeling the same way as me during the same time last year. Knowing that other people have gone through the same motions while transitioning to life abroad makes you feel less alone. 

All in all, to those of you reading, I’m sorry if I have disappointed you with this blog post. However, I do think I need to be honest about my experience here and share with other folks who may be thinking about studying abroad. If anything, I am giving myself all the time I need to breathe, go through the motions, and eventually settle in. This will be a long process, but I am trying to be patient with myself. 

I cannot end this post without acknowledging the people who have been there for me. I’d like to extend a thank you to Keilyn, Sarah, Elisabeth, Gino, Crystal, Brenna, Shirley, Joe, and Amanda. And to my new friends at Sciences Po, I am looking forward to getting to know you and let’s finish this semester strong :) 

Okay and now some photos!

                   This is me in front of the Museo del Prado in Madrid

                    Hard to see but I was really feelin’ my outfit this one day

                                                   Really cute doggo 

              Colorful olives sold at the Marché Saint-Denis, a banlieue of Paris

#sciencespo #studyabroad

[xephinatheeleven]

The Imposter

Word Count: 8,697

Summary: When a new video is being filmed, Virgil is mysteriously late, and when he does arrive, there’s something off about him, as if he were lying...

Warnings: Panic-attacks

Pairings: Platonic Only!

———-

This was it, after weeks of research and watching the other sides, Deceit was finally ready to get his revenge on them. Thomas may be a moral person, but it was clear that he had chosen the wrong trait before; Patton didn’t hold enough sway over the others to be used as the puppet to take control of their host’s entire personality, but there was one who did have such prestige. When Logan left, he became the voice of reason, when Roman was shouting for Thomas to go through with an idea, he could stop the YouTuber without even raising his voice, Patton wouldn’t dare calling him out, for fear of losing his friendship, and he just so happened to be the one who the snake-like aspect hated the most. Virgil. That’s whose place he should have taken to begin with, but he had never expected a dark-side to have such a hold on Thomas’s emotions.

Anger welled up inside the duplicitous facet; Anxiety should be by his side now, the two of them working together to take the power away from the other three main personifications, but his old friend had betrayed him. The apprehensive persona had allowed himself to become brainwashed into thinking that their host and the other archetypes considered him family. They had tricked him into thinking he was accepted as one of the mains, and yet they still called Deceit the liar.

Once and for all, he was going to take control as the most powerful and dominant embodiment, then Virgil would have no choice but to see what the others had done to him, and how they really felt. When he came to his senses, the anxious emotion would turn his back on his so-called family, and when he did, he would be a valuable asset. With his abilities of inflicting fear and adrenaline, partnered with the power the devious character would have over the others, they would be an unstoppable team.

Now would finally be his chance to make Virgil pay for abandoning him, and take all the power away from the mains, and the untrustworthy side knew just how he was going to pull it off. The others were more susceptible to his lies when they were physically manifested, so it would be easy enough to trick them, after all, had it not been for the one he intended to stand in as, they may never have figured out he wasn’t really their moral counterpart. The first part of his plan however, was going to be the most difficult; he had to get the real fight-or-flight reflex out of the way until the deceptive trait was certain he had switched allegiances.

Even with Thomas knowing of his existence, and without having the others in his grasp, the dishonest figure still had enough influence to shut them up, and in this case, he was going to do so physically. With just the right amount of energy, he would still be able to hold up his façade as his gloomier companion, while keeping the real him trapped safely in his room, where he couldn’t interfere with Deceit’s plot to seize authority. Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment to strike, Anxiety was usually the last to show up for most any filming, so as to minimize his screen time. That meant, all the liar had to do was lay low until the other three synced into the real world, then keep the youngest of the mains in his room and take his place. He knew the darkest of the four far better than he did Morality; therefore, acting like him would be easy, and if he forgot something, he had jotted down a few notes on his hand. It was so simple, so flawless, that there was no way they would be able to figure him out this time, he would have them cornered.

Virgil was aware that the other aspects had already gone to the real world for the video, but as per usual, he was hanging back until he was needed. It wouldn’t be long now before he was summoned, so the negative facet reached for his jacket, which hung from the back of his desk chair, but before he could take it, it vanished. The only way that could happen was if one of his colleagues had called it to them at will, probably to lure him to the filming, although it was certainly a new tactic, probably one of Princey’s ideas. Shaking his head and ready to scold whoever had taken his coat, Anxiety attempted to sync into the real world himself, but quickly found that he had been cut off for some reason.

Trying to lure, and then trapping him as some sort of joke was a new low for the others, and something he hadn’t expected them to do. Virgil was sure they had no mal-intent in doing so, but that didn’t make it any less annoying to him. Sighing, he walked for the door. If he went to the control room, he would be able to manually convince Thomas to summon him. A wave of anger crashed over him as he tried the handle, only to find that it had been locked, whatever kind of antic this was, it was going too far.

The fury he felt however, slowly began to ebb as fear took hold of him at the realization of two things, even if this was a prank, the others were putting their host, and by extension, themselves at risk by distancing him from his fight-or-flight reflex. The other part wasn’t nearly as rational, but scared him all the same, overpowering the more important concern. Being trapped in the enclosed space; he could almost feel the walls pressing in on him as his claustrophobia took hold.

Patton was beginning to become concerned, the video filming had started some time ago, and while Virgil was usually the last to show up, this time was different. Multiple points had already gone by in which his darker son would have ordinarily jumped in to offer his argument, or at least make some sort of sarcastic comment on the matter at hand. Morality knew however, that he hadn’t ducked-out again, seeing as he had no known reason too, and Thomas wasn’t acting disinterested and careless. Actually, that was part of what had him so worried, their host seemed even more worked up than usual.

It was understandable though, because this time around, the debate was focused on what the next step in the life of the online personality should be. Logan was arguing that he should go back to school; meanwhile, Roman was insistent that he try out for the role of Captain Von Trapp from The Sound of Music. The father figure was yet to choose who he would side with, and wanted to hear Anxiety’s opinion before he did, but in the end the eldest trait would support Thomas in whatever he decided to do.

Patton let his mind drift from his thoughts as he did his best to focus on the altercation once more, and apparently it was Logic’s turn to have the floor. “As we all know Thomas has been considering starting some new courses to expand his knowledge, and with the fall semester beginning soon, now would be the ideal time for him to go through with that plan and start on a few new classes.”

Princey scoffed, waving off the idea, “A new performance will be hosting auditions in Orlando soon, and Thomas would surely get the part of the Captain if he tried out. That’s not to mention that it would do him good to get back into musical theatre after his last blunder when he forgot the song!” Their host cast a glare at his fanciful side, clearly not pleased by the reminder of his last attempt of being cast in a play.

“Maybe it would be better if he just focused on his YouTube career,” They all whipped around as Virgil’s voice joined in on the conversation, it was an odd time for him to show up, but Morality was happy to see him all the same. “You wouldn’t want to let you fans down, would you Thomas?”

Patton was a bit taken aback by the crass question, the youngest aspect’s voice was reminiscent of the way he had spoken before the others had accepted him, that being said, he knew he had to step in. “Now kiddo, I think it’s been made clear to all of us, that Thomas’s fans will support him, no matter what he chooses to do.”

Before he could say anymore, the intellectual facet interjected, clearly not having picked up on Anxiety’s tone, “Patton is correct. Besides, I have already run the calculations; Thomas would still be able to maintain his posting schedule, even with some of his time being taken up by school-work. If he were to take on rehearsals however, it would take up more time than he has to spare if he wants to keep making these videos.”

“Alright Neil deGlasses Tyson, but the fans have also said that they want Thomas to be happy, and we all know how much he enjoys acting.” To emphasize his point, Roman waved his hands around at the group, “and just like with previous videos, it could give him some interesting stories to tell later on.”

The YouTuber nodded in agreement, “this is true. Sure the viewers would have to wait a little longer between uploads, but that would allow me to focus on quality over quantity.”

The rational persona straightened his glasses before addressing their host, “you do that already. Your audience is more than satisfied with the current caliber of the content you create now. Knowing that, maintaining the posting schedule you have now would be the best option, while still allowing you to take up a few classes. If you were to go through with that plan, then you would also be able to fill your videos with more facts and references, therefore increasing the overall quality as well.”

“Does Thomas really need the stress of another activity just now?” Something about the attitude and mannerisms of the gloomier side set off red flags in the mind of the usually cheerful character. Virgil wasn’t acting like himself; now-a-days he often tried not to be as harsh, he was still truthful, but attempted to make points in a less destructive way than he was now. “He already gets anxious when it comes to making videos, and he almost always has to push back the release dates as it is. Adding more to his plate would only feed into that.”

The online personality hung his head at the statement; but neither Princey nor Logic seemed to notice as they continued to bicker, only stopping when Thomas himself intervened. “Perhaps Virgil is right, I have been trying to focus more on my mental-health recently…and taking up new responsibilities could set me back.” As he paused, the trait dressed in black and purple appeared contented that the debate was now swinging in his favor. “For the time being, it might be best if I hold off on any new obligations.”

Logan and Roman both gave the online personality a startled glance before turning to Patton, as if asking him to do something. They seemed to have come to the same conclusion that the moral attribute had; inactivity, and sticking with exactly what he was doing without taking any risks, would lead him nowhere. He wouldn’t grow as a person if he wasn’t willing to accept any new challenges in life.

“Son, I’m not so sure that’s the best idea,” Deceit couldn’t help but feel smug, everything was going exactly to plan. He had managed to get Thomas on his side, and by the looks of it, the other three were grasping at straws to try and get him to change his mind. “Staying right where you are and where you feel comfortable at the moment isn’t going to make things any better. We’ve discussed this before, change can be a good thing, and in this case, whether you were to chose to take new classes or audition for the play, it would lead you down a new path, and either one would be better than doing nothing at all. You could make new friends, learn, come up with new ideas, and overall grow as a person if you just take the next step, but if you stay in place, you may never know what opportunities you missed.” The snake-like aspect wasn’t concerned by the words of the father figure, after all, he hadn’t been a strong enough pawn before, and the others didn’t listen to him them, so why should they listen to him now?

The YouTuber’s soft and almost scared voice jarred the liar from his thoughts, “I know change can be good, but missed opportunities can apply to any part of life. If I were to choose either of the other options…I could be so busy that I lose the friends I have. I could lose my fan-base and by extension my financial income, I could-”

“Thomas! Stop!” Patton couldn’t bear to listen to any more of this harmful talk, “what is going on? This isn’t like you…is there something more going on that you aren’t telling us about?”

“That is a fair question; you are coming across as a bit more pessimistic than usual.” At Logan’s concurrence, Morality noticed it, the one indication that something was very wrong, and he was astonished that the anxious personification hadn’t picked up on it, Thomas was shaking, and it had only grown worse as the debate progressed. Their host started to tremble when he was falling into a panic-attack, and the last time that had happened was when he, along with his creative and logical counterparts had become corrupted in the Accepting Anxiety videos. Patton was certain that none of them were corrupted now, so there was only one facet capable of causing such a reaction within Thomas.

“Thomas, listen to me and me alone,” the voice the moral embodiment now took on was soft and gentle. “I don’t know what is going through your head right now, or what is causing it, but you're beginning to panic, so let us help you calm down before we continue with the video.” The online personality didn’t respond, and Patton’s paternal instincts were starting to kick in, he had to find a way to stop this. He didn’t want to go through with what he knew he had to do next, for fear that it wasn’t him, and the accusation would be unjustified, but with the rest of them having no reason to be scared, there was only one side with the power to be doing all of this. Taking a deep breath, he leaned past Roman to speak directly to the one in question, his voice merely a whisper so as not to alert anyone else. “Virgil, I don’t know if this is your doing or not, but you are the only one who can stop Thomas from going into a panic-attack, so please, help him.” Morality was unnerved by the almost malicious look the other gave him, but there was nothing else he could do but let the attack run its course and offer what comfort there was to be given.

Virgil paced back and forth across his room, he had tried everything he could think of to get out, but nothing had worked. He was beginning to wonder if the others had something against him, or if he had upset them in some way, because this had gone on for far too long for it to just be a joke anymore, and the idea terrified him. He wracked his mind, searching for any reason that the others may be angry with him, or for a situation in which his words or actions could have been misinterpreted as ill-will, but nothing came to mind.

Anxiety had no idea as to what could have brought all this on; he shivered, partially from the thoughts, but also because he was cold without his jacket. That was the part that didn’t fit, if they just wanted him out of the way, then why take his coat? Thoughts rushed into his mind at the speed of light, the outfit idea had been a bit out there, he’d said that himself before revealing it, maybe they had taken the jacket to make fun of it. No. The others had accepted him, and they would never act so lowly, especially Patton, at the thought of the eldest trait, the youngest couldn’t help but feel guilty. How could he accuse his family of being so petty, but that was the worst part about fear, it was irrational, and try as he might, he couldn’t do anything to ward of the dark thoughts.

Sitting on his bed, he placed his head in his hands, trying to make sense of what was going on, and what to do about it, but the thoughts were interrupted by a single line, as if someone were talking to him. “Virgil, I don’t know if this is your doing or not, but you are the only one who can stop Thomas from going into a panic-attack, so please, help him.” The words were closely followed by a torrent of unease, it had been weak, probably for the same reason he couldn’t leave, but his name being said tugged at his as if he were being summoned, seeing as that was how they were often called to the real world, that much didn’t surprise him. What caught him off guard was the fact that it had been Morality’s voice, and it had sounded as if he had been speaking directly to the negative emotion.

Suddenly, understanding crashed over him like a tidal wave, it wasn’t Thomas, Patton, Logan or Roman that were keeping Virgil from the filming, which explained everything from the entrapment, to the theft of his jacket. The others thought he was there, just how they had thought the father figure was there in the Lying video, Deceit had taken his place, and the panic that Anxiety felt from being locked away and cut off from his family was taking its toll on their host. Now that he knew what was actually going on, the real fight-or-flight reflex just had to find a way to get the others to realize that the deceptive aspect was pretending to be him, while still being stuck in his room.

His room! That was it, when he had left before, the others had come to his room to find him, and if he did that now; Thomas would stop panicking all together and begin acting careless and out-of-it. If that didn’t reveal Deceit’s presence to the others, they would come to his corner of the mind-palace to see what was going on, and when they did, the real Anxiety would be waiting for them.

As much as it hurt him to do so, because of how close he had grown to the others, Virgil closed his eyes, and in his mind, he could see his family. Reminding himself that it was for their own good, he sighed, turning his back on them and walked into the infinite black void until the others had been lost from sight.

Patton watched on in horror as Thomas’s breath quickened with fear, and despite their best efforts, there was nothing he and the others could do to calm him down. Meanwhile, it sickened Morality to watch his youngest son sit back and do nothing, and once again he felt as if he were looking at someone entirely different from the Virgil they had come to know and love.

Why would he do something like this? The answer popped into his head, even if it didn’t explain their current situation; Anxiety wouldn’t do this, he hated panic more than any of them. Even having said it himself after he had rescued them from his room, “being anxious about the idea of growing more anxious. Yeah, that sounds like me.” He often worked to fight off panic-attacks, so there was no reason to think he would cause on now.

The eldest facet was ripped from his thoughts as Roman’s exasperated voice pierced through the air, “Virgil what are you doing? If this is some sort of joke, no one thinks it’s funny, stop this!”

The darkly-dressed persona shocked them all with the wicked smile he portrayed, “a little blood pumping is good for the circulatory system.”

“I believe that the rest of us are in agreeance, that a panic-attack is more than the amount of fear to which you are referring, and were you not just arguing that Thomas’s mental health was a concern of yours?” Logan appeared to be just as put out by the predicament as Princey was. “The others are validated in their statements, enough is enough, and the sooner it is brought to a close, the better.”

Logic hardly had time to finish his input before their host stopped shaking, and his breathing slowed back to a normal speed. Patton saw the relief that came over the other two, but he couldn’t share in the feeling as he noticed the apprehensive expression Virgil now wore. Something told the fatherly attribute that the one sitting on the stairs had nothing to do with the most recent development.

Clearly the others weren’t aware of the change that plagued the youngest side as Roman spoke up, “thank you.”

“Agreed, although, I would say that went on for much too lon-” The intellectual was cut off as Thomas wondered aimlessly from his spot in the direction of the kitchen. “Do forgive my forwardness after such a stressful ordeal, but where are you going?”

“Hungry,” the single word was the only explanation the online personality gave as he took a bag of chips from one of the cabinets.”

The traits looked at one another in confusion, and this time, Anxiety was right along with them. What added to his confusion though, was that a part of the switch in Thomas’s emotions felt vaguely familiar to Morality. “Kiddo…if you are feeling better, perhaps we should finish the video so you can get some rest.”

The YouTuber brushed off his suggestion, “I’ll get back to it in a bit…actually a nap sounds good; maybe we can finish the video later.”

Logan furrowed his brow, and didn’t even bother to straighten the glasses, which had become askew with the events of the last few minutes, “we were nearly to a conclusion. It would be much more efficient to go ahead and complete the filming.”

Thomas shrugged, walking back to his place, bringing the chips with him, “if you guys want to…where were we?”

The Prince was the first to jump at the opportunity, “you were just about to decide to audition for The Sound of Music.”

“Now it hasn’t been completely taken off the table yet, that he may take a few new classes.” Patton’s eyes were trained on the online personality as the academic aspect added to the debate.

“Well a play sounds like more fun…” Thomas trailed off as he stuffed a few more chips in his mouth. Despite the fact that the scales were now tipped in Roman’s favor, he didn’t seem pleased with the chance at victory, merely concerned. Their host hadn’t used any of the previous arguments that had been made, to come to his conclusion, almost as if he had made the decision without much thought at all, as if he didn’t care.

Logic apparently caught on as well because he didn’t continue to try and defend his point, “pray tell, are you feeling all right Thomas?”

“Sure I guess.”

He reached for another handful of crisps, but the fanciful manifestation stopped him with some rather forceful words, “put them down!”

The online personality did as he was told and quickly dropped the bag, “okay.”

Morality was finally able to come up with an idea as to why he was experiencing such a strong sense of déjà vu; he wasn’t certain, but he had an idea of how to figure out if his hunch was right. “Thomas, do me a favor and answer me this question,” he paused briefly. “Did you remember to lock your car earlier?”

They gazed at the moral facet in bewilderment, but his logical and creative counterparts expressions changed to understanding at the answer their host gave. “I probably did, I’m not sure, but probably.”

Logan took in a quick breath, his words hardly audible, “weaker memory…”

Patton picked up where the other left off, “not much of a filter.”

Roman apparently was coming to the same conclusion, “and getting over a panic-attack in record time…no fear.” All three of them turned to look at Virgil, “what is up with you today, first going overboard, and now taking his worries away all together.”

Anxiety rolled his eyes, an unsettling nature to his voice as he all but growled his words, “I thought this is what you wanted.”

“Virgil, you know full well that we meant for you to stop the attack, not leave him completely without his defenses.” At the contribution of the factual character, the one in question was becoming visibly uncomfortable.

“Why do you all assume this is my doing? I thought we had come to an understanding, so why are you resorting to petty accusations?” Even though there was no reason for it, the fight-or-flight reflex had apparently chosen to react with anger, but something told Morality that it was just a façade.

Princey was quick to defend himself and the others, “we are all trying to help Thomas, just as we always do. You are the one accusing us of asking for this and being petty.”

Virgil glared at him for a moment longer before turning to the lighter personification, desperation shining behind his eyes, “Patton, you're the cheerful one. Surely you think Thomas would be happier without all the worries that I provide, don’t you dad?”

The way the youngest of the four said the last word made him certain of what was going on, and that he had been right all along. The figure that sat before him now was not Anxiety. With that in mind, Morality knew the one in place of his friend would never let him out right reveal who he was, but he had an idea as to how to get the others to see what he saw. It would hurt him endlessly to say it, it would haunt him for days, and if he was wrong; he would never forgive himself, but it had to be done. “We have already decided that Thomas is not better off without his fight-or-flight reflexes, and if you haven’t figured that out yet…then you are no son of mine.” The moral side was hardly able to choke out the words, but he knew the statement had worked, as both Logan and Roman gave each other a startled but knowing look.

Before they could say anything however, Virgil snapped back at him, “not your son?” He let his hateful gaze sweep around all three of them, and for a brief moment the paternal attribute wondered if he had just made the worst mistake possible, but the words that followed caused relief to crash over him like a tsunami. “I knew you all hadn’t really accepted me, and why should you? I’m just a dark-side after all!”

Logic was the next to speak, but his words were directed at their host, “Thomas, perhaps it would jog Virgil’s memory of his importance if we went back to his room and allowed ourselves to become corrupted. If he had to save us, then maybe he would remember how important he is by helping us.”

Anxiety’s stand-in opened his mouth to say something, but the YouTuber beat him to it, “sure, let’s go.” As soon as he said the words, all five of them began to sync out of the real world, but Morality didn’t miss the look the anxious persona gave him as they did so.

Moments later they were all stood in the darkened version of Thomas’s living-room with cobwebs hanging from the banisters, rock-band posters on the walls, the mildly-terrifying spider curtains, and other belongings of Anxiety’s littering the surfaces. Patton’s eyes however, were drawn to a frame on the bookshelf behind the dining table, in it was the card he had made for the gloomier archetype after the others had accepted him.

Virgil felt the presence of the others downstairs, and trying the handle again, he found the door was finally unlocked. Being in his room must have weakened Deceit to the point, that he could no longer keep him trapped. Quietly, so as not to alert his adversary, he stepped out into the corridor; Anxiety knew he would have to work quickly before the others became corrupted by his corner of the mindscape.

Making his way down the stairs, the youngest of the main traits placed a finger over his lips, so the others would know not to reveal his appearance. Before he could do anything though, alleviation washed over him; Thomas’s eyes were losing their distant look as Virgil regained his position in their host’s personality. His family caught on, and continued looking at one another, pretending not to notice him, so as not to make the malicious aspect aware that anything had changed.

The darker manifestation didn’t speak until he was only two steps above his former friend, “if you value your own well-being in any way, you will get out of my spot and stop trying to impersonate me.”

The liar was startled enough by his sudden appearance, that he fell off the stairs and into the area between where each of the others were standing, allowing Virgil to take back his rightful place. Deceit glanced up at him, obviously trying to maintain his hold on what little shreds of pride he had left, “ah, Virgil…how wonderful it is to see you.”

“Your lies don’t work on me, now as I said, if you want to leave my room with no broken bones, you’ll stop trying to impersonate me. Oh, and give me my jacket back while you're at it.” Anxiety held the gaze of his look-a-like, then with a snap of his fingers, his form changed back to his snake-ish appearance, continuing to glare at all of them. Virgil was losing his patience, as he growled the words again, “and the jacket.”

The untrustworthy facet threw the black and purple fabric at him with such force, that if it had been any heavier, it would have knocked him backwards when he caught it. “There you go, because I just wanted you fabulous coat so badly.”

Placing the jacket back around his shoulders, the fight-or-flight reflex ignored the hiss from the defeated side. Glancing around, he saw the dark-pigmented make-up accumulating beneath the eyes of each of the other embodiments, and surprisingly it was the darkest on Deceit. He had expected another dark-side to be able to hold out longer than the others, but if he had to guess, he would say it was the display of strong emotion that caused the eye-shadow to intensify. “We will continue this conversation in the real world, you’ve all been in here too long already, and it’s not safe anymore.” He looked over to their host, “Thomas, I trust you will help me get them back unharmed.”

He swiftly nodded in agreement, “I think you're right, we have things we need to discuss, but it’s high time we were getting back.” The online personality repeated the breathing technique Anxiety had taught him the last time they had all come to his room. As he did so, one-by-one, the other traits began to return to the sanctity of the real world. A final glance passed between the observant character and his host before they followed closely behind the others.

When they appeared, the logical, moral, and creative aspects each wore varying expressions of relief, which quickly turned to irritation as their eyes rested on the duplicitous figure standing in the middle of the group. Before they could say anything though, Thomas’s voice broke the silence, “it’s good to have you back Virgil.”

He let his eyes rest on each of them, purposely passing over Deceit, “honestly, it’s good to be back.” Now he let his gaze stop on his treacherous counterpart, “are you going to explain what the heck that was?”

There was concern behind the eyes of the liar, as if he were worried about what the others were going to do with him, but he had no way of knowing if the feeling was real. “I just know you so well Virgil, and I wanted to see if the others here would believe I was you.”

The one dressed in black and purple couldn’t help but scoff, “sure, so in translation, you wanted to take my place to try and sway Thomas’s decision-making, to take the power away from us, right?” The sarcasm was thick on the last word, as he already knew the answer, but he wanted to see how Deceit would react to being called out directly.

“No, not at all, whatever would give you an idea like that?” There was a mocking tone in the devious facet’s voice.

At the question Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, as he always did when he was reaching his limits with ridiculous situations, Patton looked like a disappointed parent, and Roman merely glared at him. Virgil’s gaze was steadily rested on him however, “there was a time when I considered you my friend, I tried to help you redeem yourself the same way they helped me.” He gestured to their host and the other sides, “but that was a long time ago, and now you’ve attempted on multiple occasions to hurt my family in one way or another, so there is something you need to know.” Anxiety made sure Deceit was looking at him before he continued, “as long as I’m around, trapped or not…I will always find my way back, and my family will always be defended. Any time you try to cross them after this…you’ll have to answer to me, and I’m telling the truth when I say, it won’t be a pleasant experience for you if it comes to that.”

The dishonest trait moved forward until he was standing at the base of the stairs, just a few steps below him, and only a few feet away, when he spoke his voice was just barely loud enough for the others to hear and guttural. “Ooo, I quiver with fear!” Virgil noticed the anger in the others as the last word was spat in his face, but he wouldn’t be intimidated that easily.

Before the rest of them could say or do anything, Anxiety sprung forward from his place with lightning-fast reflexes as Deceit was moving back to the center of the group. Grabbing him by the chain that clasped his cape, he pulled him closer until they were nose to nose, and as he did so, the darker characteristic became certain that the fear in the eyes of the other was real. “You would be wise to heed my warning.” He could feel the others’ eyes watching the two of them intently, but for the moment he didn’t care; his focus was on the singular personification. “I’ll remind you, just in case you have forgotten…I embody Thomas’s fight-or-flight reflexes, so if you try to hurt my family again…just keep in mind who you will be fighting at the end of it all.” To add emphasis to his final statement, the youngest of the main aspects released his cape in such a forceful manner, that his rival stumbled backwards a few paces, and he returned to his spot, staring down at him. “Don’t make me have to keep that promise.”

It took a few moments, but eventually the liar regained his bearings, and it was clear he wasn’t ready to give up just yet, “family? Oh, I should have known, considering how well they’ve treated you all this time.” Normally Virgil wouldn’t have dignified the jest with a response, but the accusation had brought Morality to tears, and that was enough to justify continuing the dispute.

He was about to speak, but the fatherly facet beat him to it, “V-Virgil…we are so sorry about what happened in the past…n-never forget that…please,” Thomas and the others nodded in agreement at the plea.

Anxiety looked over to his best friend, his voice much more gentle as he addressed him, “you are the last one who would ever need to apologize to me.” He faced the rest of them with the same unthreatening poise, “none of you need to…I am well aware of how you all feel about me now, and that’s all that matters.” When he saw the relief in their eyes, his returned his attention to the one he had at a time called friend, his voice reverting back to what it had been before. “They would never lie to me, and I know without a doubt that they have accepted me as I am! I tried to get you to see reason, to let me show you what they showed me, that family means far more than power…but you rebuked it, and until you can learn the lesson that I had to learn the hard way, it would be in your best interest to avoid me.”

“You’ve always been so strong Virgil, so it would never make sense for you to be on the weaker team with me and the other dark-sides. Stay with the strong ones,” he had to consciously keep himself from shuddering at the reminder of his previous allegiances as Deceit for an unknown reason, gestured to Patton, “even the one who had the strength to convince you to do what was right in talking to Joan. The one you all listened to during that video.”

It took all of his will-power not to lunge at his newfound enemy, but one thought actually made the darkest of the mains laugh. Roman however, didn’t see the humor in the situation that he did as he had his arm around the persona, who was sobbing softly, “what’s so funny? He just out right insulted Patton!”

Virgil smiled at his adversary-turned-friend, “no he didn’t. He may not even realize it, but for once, Deceit actually told the truth,” they all stared at him in bewilderment and waited for him to explain. “He’s right, I am on the stronger side, and Patton did convince Thomas to do what was right when it came to talking to Joan. If I recall correctly he said, ‘simply put, Deceit is and inner coach with the one intension of self-preservation.’ To which Thomas responded with, ‘well, this time around, I’m going to tune out that inner coach and set things right.’” Anxiety put a strong emphasis on the last word, looking around at all of them before placing his attention back on the dishonest trait. “You may have looked like him at first, but it was Patton who actually did convince all of us to do what was right in that situation…and if memory serves, the one we didn’t listen to was you, and all for a few simple reasons. We know Patton is moral, he’d told us before that lying is wrong, and he would never go back on his word and tell Thomas to lie to one of his best friends…in fact had he been there all along, that debate never would have gone down. We would have agreed not to lie to Joan in the beginning, and once you take all that into consideration, it really boils down to only one reason…we respect Patton, because he has proven time and again that he is worthy of it…you on the other hand, have yet to earn that right.”

Deceit acted as if he wanted to say more, but obviously realized that he was out-matched. Whipping his head around like a cornered animal, trying to look at each of them individually, he struggled to speak, “well…I…I won’t be back…and I-”

“Like I said, you’d be wise not to come back, at least not until you understand that family and friends are more important than power.” Virgil held his gaze until the liar finally admitted defeat through his actions, and left without another word.

A few seconds of silence ticked by, and the fight-or-flight reflex realized he was still standing in a defensive position; he sat back down on the stairs so as not to seem threatening to those who didn’t deserve it. Logan was the first to find his tongue, and even he still sounded awed, “Virgil…that was impressive.”

The comment seemed to snap Princey out of his trance to some extent, but his voice was still a distant whisper, “I can’t believe I had to be defended like a damsel-in-distress.” He appeared more amazed than disgruntled as he turned to face the youngest aspect, his tone growing a bit stronger. “Even I have to admit…that was almost worthy of a knight-hood.” The idea was one that left him at a loss for words, Roman considered himself a knight, so to say something like that was putting Virgil on a higher pedestal than he ever expected.

Thomas was clearly still shaken from the whole situation, but did manage to speak, “You did the right thing Virgil…I know Deceit was at one time a friend of yours, but I’m happy to see that you know how much we all truly care about you.” The online personality looked to the floor, “we were so destructive in how we treated you in the past, and I apologize for that…you’ve proven again that you are a good guy.”

The words still hung in the air, but before he could respond, a forced slammed into Anxiety in a blur of grey and blue, causing him to fall back against the stairs. Arms wrapped around his shoulders as he managed to right himself, and he could just barely hear the soft sobs coming from the eldest facet. His heart broke; the malicious figure had gone after Patton twice now, and for what reason? Mortality was the kindest and most caring of them, so why pick him as a target? After all, if it weren’t for the one embracing him now, the gloomier persona more than likely wouldn’t have been here to guard the others, he hated to think about it, but he probably would have been working in tandem with the liar.

Lightly returning the hug, he could just make out the few words his friend managed to choke out through his tears. “I-I’m so p-proud of you kiddo…I-I knew you c-could never b-betray us.”

The darker character didn’t know how to take the praise that was being handed to him, and questions raced through his mind from the most recent comment. Clearing away the thoughts with a deep breath, he knew he had a more important issue to address, “hey Pat…it’s all okay.” Anxiety had never been the best with sympathy; still he had to try something to calm down the lighter side. “Listen, we’ve all made mistakes in the past…and I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but all that matters is here and now.” He paused briefly as Patton pulled back to look at him, “I know you all feel bad about what happened, and that you do care about me…you're my family, and trust me, I’m not going anywhere. As long as you guys are around, I’m going to be right here with you.” The moral attribute smiled at him through his tears before returning to his place in front of the backdoor.

“It’s good to have you back Virgil…and thank you for everything you do for us.” Thomas was obviously still too astounded from the recent events to say much else.

Logic must have picked up on his discomfort with the compliments, because he swiftly changed the subject. “What I wish to know is, where were you for the bulk of the filming, and why did you…in terms, duck-out again?”

The comparatively-negative trait sighed, he hadn’t been ecstatic about leaving as he did, but the others deserved an answer. “Deceit locked me in my room to keep me away from the video, to try and take my place, much like he did with Patton awhile back.” He picked at the carpet from the stairs nervously, “before I go any further…I owe all of you an apology, well technically three.” The four of them looked at him in confusion, waiting for him to continue, “I misjudged you. When I found out that I had been trapped in my room…I-I immediately jumped to the conclusion that you were pulling some sort of prank on me, or worse that…that you had turned your backs on me, so I’m sorry I even considered that any of you would act so lowly, and that also leads me into my second apology. In thinking that I had been abandoned, and being locked away, I began to panic…which I now know took its toll on you Thomas, so yeah…I’m sorry for those things. As for the leaving, I did have a reason for that as well, but I apologize for that too, because I know that couldn’t have been an easy situation to deal with…again.”

Logan was the first to voice the question Virgil guessed they all were wondering, “was it the panicking that caused you to leave, because if so, that was a bit of an extreme solution.”

Anxiety smiled, “no that’s not the reason, I could have calmed Thomas down without having to go that far. I actually left so I could reveal Deceit’s presence.”

Roman spoke with no sense of sarcasm or distaste in his tone, “I’m not sure I follow. You went from thinking it was us to knowing it was Deceit who had trapped you, how did you jump from one conclusion to the other?”

“While I was trying to effectively stop Thomas from going into a panic-attack, a weak link made it through Deceit’s barrier. It was a single line using my name, making it feel as if you guys were trying to summon me, but it was like you were talking to me as if I were already there.” He turned to face Morality, “you were the one that out-right addressed me and clued me in on what was really going on. What you said was, ‘Virgil, I don’t know if this is your doing or not, but you're the only one who can stop Thomas from going into a panic-attack, so please, help him.’ That was what made me realize that there was someone with you who had taken my place, and I don’t care who it is, if they’re trying to impersonate me, that’s not a good thing. To keep me locked up is to distance Thomas from his fight-or-flight responses which would be putting all of you at risk.” He looked to the others, “and since I couldn’t get to you, I found a way to bring you all to me. I knew that if my presence were gone, you would all turn to me to figure out what was going on, and in doing so, you would realize that it wasn’t actually me.”

“Clearly it was an effective tactic, seeing as it most certainly caught our attention.” Logic glanced over to his paternal counterpart, “although, I believe Patton was suspicious that it wasn’t you long before that, am I correct?”

The fatherly aspect looked like a deer-in-headlights for a moment before replying, “I-I wasn’t certain what it was at first, but I knew something was off from the beginning. Deceit would have fooled me too had he tried to do this a year ago…his impersonation of you Virgil, was more defensive and harsh…”

As he slowly stopped, the darker facet picked up where he left off, making sure that his tone was gentle so as not to upset Patton further, “so basically how I acted when I was his friend, back before you all accepted me?”

Morality nodded sheepishly, “what really gave him away were a few things. One, he didn’t notice that Thomas was shaking and starting to panic, something you would have noticed and tried to stop. Then when you left, Deceit attempted to play it off as if we had wanted your presence to be gone…then he asked me as the ‘cheerful one’ if Thomas would be happier…without his worries…” The way the eldest trailed off his sentence made Virgil wary.

Roman was quick to interject however, clearly picking up on the same change that he had, “What Patton did next was noble, and had it not been for that, as much as I regret to say it, we may not have seen what he saw.”

The moral side gave Princey a grateful yet saddened look, “I…I wasn’t certain…that’s what pained me the most, but I took a similar risk to the one you did in the Lying video, by telling the others that I wasn’t your friend, to show the others that Deceit was there.” He sniffled before continuing, “I made an accusation against you…I mean fake you…”

Anxiety could see the fear in his eyes and did his best to diffuse it, “Patton, you know you can tell me anything, and we all know you wouldn’t make an accusation against one of us without good reason. That’s not to mention that you were right, and if you tell me what you said, I know you aren’t saying it to the real me.”

The kind emotion didn’t meet his gaze, as if he were afraid that if he did, Virgil would feel as if the words were actually angled at him. “I said…I said, ‘we have already decided that Thomas is not better off without his fight-or-flight reflexes.’” He paused, wiping the tears from his eyes with the sleeves of his cat-hoodie, “‘and if you haven’t figured that out yet…then you are no son of mine.’” A sob racked the frame of the lighter trait as soon as he said the words, but spoke again before the anxious persona had a chance to react. “I-I’m so sorry Virgil…if I had said that to the real you…I would have never forgiven myself. I-”

Patton was beginning to tremble, just like their host did when he became panicked, so the youngest cut him off. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, you didn’t say it to me, and there’s no use in getting worked up over what could have happened, for two reasons. One, like I said, you didn’t say it to me, and two, I wouldn’t believe you if you did.” Morality dared to look up at him, “First of all, I’ve given you no reason to say that to me, and next, you saw me as your son from the beginning, even when I acted the way Deceit did earlier. That being said, I wouldn’t believe you if you said I wasn’t your son, because I know that you love us all unconditionally, and nothing would ever change that.” Patton actually managed a genuine smile as Anxiety continued, “I know you are all my family, and no amount of lies, light-hearted insults, or fears is ever going to change that.” A playful grin made its way onto the face of the normally-gloomy side as he heightened the pitch of his voice and spoke more through his nose, using one of Thomas’s famous impressions, “because Ohana means family.” He let his tone return to normal as the others gazed at him with shocked smiles, “and family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten…or in this case nobody gets pushed away.”

#Thomas Sanders #Sanders #Sanders Sides #Sander Sides #Virgil Sanders #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Virgil #Logan #Patton #Roman #Anxiety #Logic #Morality #Creativity #Deceit #LAMP #Platonic LAMP #platonic sanders sides #fan fic #fanfiction #fanders #fander #xephinaficlist #prince #princey #the prince

[eliteprepsat]

In my 10+ years of teaching at the college level, I’ve met a lot of students.

Recently, a colleague and I shared how professors we’ve both known have often referred to the “top 1%” of students they’ve taught in their careers. I quickly did a bit of rough math in my head, and it turns out that I have likely taught at least 1,500 students in my own career. This excludes the many students I’ve taught in test prep programs, after school programs, and summer programs. Add those, and I could probably at least double the total number of students I’ve taught to 3,000.

Using the “top 1%” metaphor, this means that a teacher who has taught for 10 years has about 15-30 students that come to mind when they think of “the best” students they’ve worked with.

The question, then, becomes: How do you, as a student, make it into that top 1%?

Making it into a teacher’s top 1% isn’t just for the sake of playing teacher’s pet. It’s practical. As a student, it benefits you to not simply “go through the motions” of school, being just another name or number on a roll sheet. Of course, having a good relationship with your teachers benefits you in that you will have better communication with them, which enhances your ability to learn while in their classes.

But, it can also benefit you long after their classes are over. If you’ve had great relationships with your teachers—even perhaps making it into their top 1%—they will be more likely to write you excellent letters of recommendation, which are vital to your success in the college admissions process.

So, with this in mind, below is a list of 6 great ways to stand out as a student so that teachers will give you strong recommendation letters.

1. Be reliable

Many of the best teachers admire students who don’t necessarily follow the rules. But, it’s important to clarify that this only applies to being an intellectual rule-breaker and thinking outside of the box. What teachers don’t appreciate are students who deliberately disobey rules that are established for the sake of helping their classes run smoothly.

This may seem like it goes without saying. But one of the simplest ways to be a great student is just to be reliable. You can do this by always completing your work, arriving to class on time, and showing up every day prepared and ready to participate.

It’s not so much that students stand out for being reliable; it’s that students stand out for being unreliable—in other words, for all the wrong reasons. So, take the first best step toward securing a strong recommendation letter this way.

2. Be a team player

Most of the best classrooms (virtual or otherwise) function like a sports team, where the teacher leads or guides (like a coach) and all of the students also have a role (like players). This stands in contrast to traditional (and largely outdated) classroom models where the teacher takes the only active role and the students are merely passive observers.

Good teachers relish students who are excellent team players—who listen actively, participate by making meaningful contributions to discussions, and generally exude a positive energy.

In my own experience, I’ve found that classes tend to function like the organic and often unpredictable flow of a basketball game. Some of the best moments in my classes have occurred when my game plan suddenly (and wonderfully) shifted because a student raised a compelling idea in discussion that we then pursued. I think of such students as my best teammates, giving me assists as I try to make a play.

But being a great team player in class doesn’t just involve your interactions with your teacher. It also involves how you interact with your other teammates, or classmates. Some of the strongest students I’ve worked with stand out in my memory not just because of how they treated their classmates, but also because of how their classmates responded to them.

Just as the best team players know when to lead and when not to hog the ball so as to let others on the team shine, so too do the best students know when to speak up and step in when their classmates need help, but also when not to dominate the conversation, actively listening instead so as to let their classmates also shine.

3. Demonstrate curiosity

Students often believe—incorrectly—that the best way to be a team player is simply to be the most “intelligent” student in the room. In reality, raw intelligence is typically not the attribute that good teachers appreciate most in their students. Instead, this attribute is curiosity.

What does it mean to “demonstrate curiosity” as a student? Generally speaking, it means having an open mind. If you encounter course material that is initially off-putting because it seems too difficult, for instance, don’t run the other way out of frustration. Instead, ask yourself: Why might this material be of interest? Why have people devoted their entire lives to its study? What could I learn from it?

With that said, another component of demonstrating curiosity is the ability (or at least the attempt) to draw connections between course material and your own interests or life. So, even if you are taking a class in a seemingly “foreign” subject (e.g. if you are in the sciences but taking a world literature course), again ask yourself what you might have to learn from this material. Perhaps you see parallels between the formal structures of storytelling and what you have been learning in one of your engineering classes. Bring this up in discussion! Not only will you find that the course is far more worth your time because it is applicable to something you care about, but your teachers will also appreciate your curiosity.

4. Visit office hours

The best letters of recommendation are written by teachers who really know the student in question. Although there are exceptions to this rule, it’s typically not ideal, then, to request a letter from a teacher who you only studied with for a brief summer session, or who you never actually spoke to in person (say, from an online course).

In my own experience, the recommendation letters I write are better the more I know a student. So, if there is a teacher with whom you feel comfortable, don’t be afraid to open up to them a bit.

Why is this helpful for recommendation letters, exactly? If you are taking several AP courses while also juggling a heavy load of extracurriculars, a resume or transcript will show this at a glance. But if you are taking night classes while also raising a child or taking care of your ailing parents, for instance, the extent of your hard work will not likely appear anywhere on paper.

If you take the time to open up about the particulars of your life to a teacher, however, they can speak to your perseverance and grit in a meaningful recommendation letter to an admissions committee. That added understanding could very well mean the difference between a college acceptance or none.

You may or may not have opportunities to open up to your teachers during class. And you may or may not feel comfortable doing so. So, take advantage of your teachers’ office hours, when you can speak with them one-on-one.

5. Turn in an impressive assignment

When writing recommendation letters, the best teachers will not write generally about the student in question. Rather, they will look for specifics to discuss. After all, specific examples are what help readers visualize and relate to what a writer is describing, ultimately becoming convinced of their claims.

In order to do this, teachers need to be supplied with specifics to write about you. So, if you’ve written an especially impressive paper, completed a particularly dynamic presentation, or organized a uniquely inspiring event, bring this to your teacher’s attention. It will give them something to focus portions of their recommendation letter around, and they can point to these specific examples as evidence of your mastery of a subject, your hard work, your passion, or any of your other exceptional traits.

Ultimately, your teacher’s reflections on these detailed examples will give admissions committees something to remember about you as a candidate, which is crucial considering how many applications colleges receive each year.

6. Stay in touch

Typically, students don’t require recommendation letters immediately upon completing a course. So, it can be difficult having to reach out to former teachers semesters—or even years—down the road. In this case, it can feel awkward asking them for the favor of writing a letter since you haven’t spoken in some time. You may wonder if they even remember you!

To avoid this, I suggest emailing your teachers not long after a course has ended just to say a friendly hello, to share that you enjoyed their class, and to ask if they might be open to writing you a recommendation letter in the future. Although you might not require the letter immediately, asking in advance in this way is a good idea for a few reasons. It demonstrates that you are taking initiative by being so forward thinking about your future success. It also helps to plant a seed in your teacher’s mind; they will be more likely to remember you when you reach out to officially request a letter one day.

Beyond this initial email, it is a good idea to simply stay in touch with your former teachers, especially if you believe you will request a recommendation letter from them eventually. Most teachers love to hear from their former students and get caught up on all of their wonderful achievements. So, don’t be shy about sharing yours. Again, if you do so, your teachers will be more eager to help when you contact them for recommendation letters.

Some final advice for requesting letters of recommendation

When requesting a letter of recommendation, it’s always best to ask your teachers well in advance of the deadline so that they have plenty of time to complete the work. This means that you should usually aim for giving them at least 4 weeks and never less than 2 weeks. Remember that while they typically understand that writing such letters comes with the job and are happy to help out their students in this way, teachers are very busy people. So, do what you can to make the task as simple as possible for them.

Beyond giving them ample time to complete their letters, you can also simplify the task for your teachers by giving them a copy of your resume/accomplishments and a few of your strongest assignments as references. Finally, be sure to always ask at least one more individual than is required as a backup in case your original letter writer doesn’t come through or fails to get their letter in on time.

Stacy G. is a writer and teacher who has taught composition, literature, and creative writing courses at a number of public and private universities across the U.S. She has also taught SAT, AP English, and Literature SAT Subject Test courses at Elite Prep. She likes poetry, dogs, and poetry about dogs.

#appblr #studyblr #high school #college #college prep #go to college #college admissions

[ultimatestudyabroad]

Returning to the U.S. Work Culture

I’m 3.5 months into my new job, so it’s about time I reflect on what it feels like to be back in the American work culture and, moreover, back in the administrative work culture. First, the positive: payday. Every time I open my banking app and see that the paycheck has been deposited, I feel this immense wave of relief that makes me realize how truly tense I have been for the last year and a half. It also feels really good to not have to shell out almost $600/month for health insurance! And the peace of mind that comes with stability cannot be overrated. I feel for all my adjuncting friends who don’t know what next semester’s workload will look like.

On the flip side, yup, this is just like I remember it. Nothing about the America work culture has changed since it drove me to move to the other side of the planet five years ago (I didn’t think that it had, but still, it’s a bit of a shock to be back in it.) In fact, it’s even worse now, because of covid. Before I moved to Australia, I observed that everyone was pretty miserable/stressed out/burned out, but most people didn’t acknowledge it because either they didn’t realize how miserable/stressed out/burned out they were since that state of being is the status quo – it’s just the way life is – or because they were desperately trying not to acknowledge how miserable/stressed out/burned out they were since there wasn’t much they could do about because this is just the way life is. Now, however, due to covid, everyone is fried to a crisp and they know it. The ridiculous amounts of work you were expected to do before have only been multiplied and moved on Zoom.

In I come, not burned out from work, but still reeling personally from a highly traumatic period of transition. And as I’ve discussed in this blog, I’ve been very concerned about losing “Aussie Mel” now that I’m back in the U.S. Re-entering the America work culture will be the ultimate test. So far, it is not going well. It’s hard to describe to my Aussie friends just what it’s like. The easy example is to point out just how little vacation time we Americans take/actually have. But, it’s so much more than that. It’s the day-to-day grind. It’s the fact that every single person is expected to complete way more work than one person can be expected to do. For example, while I was very excited by the job description for my new position from the first time I saw, once I started, I learned that the “and” in my title – Assistant Dean for Advising and Experiential Learning – is actually indicating two jobs. There was a person who did advising before. I get to do his job and this extra piece of “experiential learning.” Typical American workplace move. Kinda like that time I was promoted, but expected to keep doing all of my old job, plus the new duties of the higher level.

The way this unrealistic workload expectation plays out on a daily basis is chronic stress. I felt this before I moved to Australia, which was a huge part of why I wanted to leave. In my former role, I’d usually have the first hour of the day to answer email and prepare for my students before the student appointments began. I would work as fast as I could while watching the hour tick away. A voice in my head would say “Move faster, Mel, you’re running out of time. No, you don’t have time to look that up before the meeting. Shit, you’re out of time. When are you going to be able to get this done?” My chest would tighten and I would feel like I was constantly failing. When you feel like that, you don’t have the capacity to be patient with your co-workers, who are all also feeling the same way. When everyone is so overworked, they unintentionally make your job harder by, for example, not reading the email carefully which then creates three more follow up emails to clear up the confusion. Or, they only answer one of the two questions you asked in the first email. Or, they don’t take the time to look something up or find an old email in their inbox and instead just ask you again. All of this slows me down and I can’t slow down, because I have too much to do!!!! This new job is no different. That’s not a slam on the new job; it’s just the way life is here in America. I have a never-ending deluge of email that I can not get ahead of. It is what it is. I block off time to work on other projects for an hour or so and then I return to my inbox to realize that, if I had been doing email that entire hour, I may have kept up with the inflow, but maybe not. One thing I am very grateful for at my new institution is that I get very few emails on the weekends. That’s nice. I’m desperately trying to develop a healthy work pattern. One very helpful thing I did was silence the tone that sounds every time a new email comes in. But, the struggle is real and it’s largely out of my control. The voice in my head is back: “Move faster, Mel. When are you going to be able to get this done?” American Mel is back and I’m not happy about it.

I’m a bit surprised by how much I miss the academic life. I knew when I was in it that I loved it. My PhD supervisor used to check in on my mental health (because she was an amazing supervisor) and I’d say, “You don’t have to worry about my mental health. I’m great! I’m not at work!” I was working very hard, of course, but it was completely self-directed and about 90% was tasks I enjoyed (the exceptions would be marking/grading essays and taking notes on the stuff I had read). When I wasn’t teaching, I got almost no email! I also did a lot of my reading on the beach or outside in a hammock, which doesn’t hurt 😊 One of my new colleagues articulated the difference between academic and administrative work very well. She said that, though academics are obviously working very hard and also feel overworked, a significant chunk of the work they are doing is their work, their research, their classes. On contrast, as an administrator, your day-to-day tasks are determined for you. You might be able to carve out a little time to work on a project, but that project is something that relates to making the bulk of your job better, say by improving a process or redoing a website. There’s almost no time to pursue intellectual interests or anything that requires deep thinking. That framing really crystallized the difference for me.

Still, I’m surprised by how much I miss academic life, especially given that I knew all along I would be going back into administrative work, because, as we all know, there are no jobs in academia. I’m trying to stay connected to that world; finishing up my book manuscript definitely helped there! And, I was recently lucky to be able to participate in a weekly seminar focused on the works of Sara Ahmed hosted through Flinders University (the time difference just randomly worked). It was so energizing to read difficult works and then discuss them with brilliant people from around the world. When it ended, I found myself sitting down and going back through all of my notes on the books and the seminars, as if I were studying for an exam or something! That’s when I realized how much I was truly craving the academic work again. I’m continuing to work on my research as I can and I’m very much looking forward to next academic year when I’ll have the opportunity to teach (though I’m not sure how I’ll manage to fit that in). I’ve achieved my big hope of getting a position that allows room to combine my administrative and academic identities. It’ll be interesting to see how/if I’m able to strike a balance.

[goalsinlifeessay427]

college essays writing

About me

Write My Essays Reviews

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