#LET ME TAKE THE FUCKING LINEAR ALGEBRA COURSE

[aimeelouart]

I overcome the re-enrollment problem

I overcome the transcript problem

I overcome the hold-is-not-removed-for-some-fucking-reason problem

I overcome the “fuck you, non-degree-seeking students can’t pick classes until literally the Friday before the term starts” problem

I CLICK ENROLL.

THE SYSTEM SAYS I CANT ENROLL BECAUSE I DIDNT DO CALCULUS II. WHICH I DID IN SPRING. WHICH THEY HAVE. ON MY FUCKING TRANSCRIPTS

[immamapletreekid]

the more linear algebra i learn the more im convinced that it isn't math and is actually some sort of fucked up old branch of magic

[klebald]

Got inspired by your website and am attempting to make myself one since my old spacehey got terminated. However I’m having the hardest time figuring out how to link a second page and more importantly how to make containers for text. Very much struggling. An hour of effort and all I have is a background and a header. I’ll figure it out eventually I’m sure, but if I get desperate enough I may end up asking you for a couple codes here and there.

Do you have class today? I’m in my earth science class right now. Really excited cause my math course on Friday is optional, so I get to sleep in a little later than usual.

Little old me, inspiration? No way, not a single bit true. The reason that I made one myself is because my Spacehey got terminated as-well. Every single social media known to man hates the Columbine shooters, I suppose. I wish you the best of luck on the hell that is HTML/CSS. If you are still yet to figure out a way to link to a second page, or to make containers, I have a couple of ways. I will happily share the page linking right now, actually, at the bottom of this, for when you do eventually discover how to code a container. You might want to try a table, tables are fun to work with, just a little more linear and confined feeling. I dislike using them for that reason. I do have class, I was in French last period, and I just got out of lunch. I am in Algebra right now. Being a junior, my schedule is the same every day aside from Thursday and Friday, where I have home room squished into the middle of the day very annoyingly. I wish my math course were optional, although, it's considerably easier to get through than some of my other classes. Earth science also does sound a lot nicer, know that I want to take your place. I have Chemistry next semester for what will be my science class, Sociology for history credits and Algebra right now until January. The order of Chemistry, and Creative Writing, which is my second core class for the next semester, being together makes zero sense to me. I hope that class is easy on you today, seeing that next period I have a FUCKING PRESENTATION. I can brag that I got to leave early Monday! If you want the new page to be linked using a button with text inside of it, the way my diary button appears on my main page, for example, the way I did it was this. (Albeit removing the slash in the first "a href", it won't embed if I don't break the code). <\a href="whatever page, you have to make a new html index page to have another page show up clickably. Tedious, I know" class="new-page-button">WHATEVER TEXT YOU WANT INSIDE OF THE BUTTON</a> And, the matching CSS that you need for it to.. Look like anything, that you should keep seperate, towards the top of the page is where I put mine, is this. .new-page-button { display: inline-block; padding: 15px 30px; {You can change ALL of these values by their pixels, try using codepen.io to preview how it looks live while you input things.} margin: 20px 0; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px rgba(128, 128, 128, 1.5); color: #fff; text-decoration: none; background-image: url('WHATEVER BACKGROUND IMAGE YOU WANT FOR INSIDE THE BOX); background-size: cover; background-position: center; border: 0.8px solid #b0b0b0; border-top: 2.2px solid #b0b0b0; border-bottom: 2.2px solid #b0b0b0; border-radius: 0; letter-spacing: 2px; } If you want it to be an image of some kind, the HTML is this (same rule as before) <\div class="BUTTON"> <\a href="your page link(the new html one)" style="cursor: pointer;"> <\img src="image that you want to be what you click on to get to the page" alt="alttextforit" style="width: 60px; height: auto;"> </a> {All of this is alterable, like I said, customization.} And, of course, the CSS: .back-button-container { margin-top: 160px; text-align: center; } Let me know if any of this is of help to you at all, I hope that my very late explanation was useful.

[mangodestroyer]

You know what? I'm kind of glad that there are some branches of math that aren't so heavy when it comes to Calculus.

Personally, I'm okay with Calculus. I mean, I do sometimes hate integrals, but I also love them, when it comes to finding volume, area, distance, displacement, etc. of some weird ass shit (I used to always wonder how people measured the areas and volumes of wonky ass shapes when I was a kid and I'm happy to now know one of the methods).

I also love sequences (even if I'm still learning about them and don't have them down). I like derivatives and limits. I hate partial differentiation problems because looking at them causes me anxiety and ig I just need to get over it and figure them out already. I think the stuff we're going to learn about in Calculus three next semester looks a lot more interesting than the first two courses.

But if college level math was ONLY calculus? I wouldn't be a math major. And I 100% understand why some people end up switching out of STEM when they encounter Calculus.

So far, I like linear algebra a lot more. For some reason, I had to do the first eight weeks of my calc II class before I was allowed to do the accelerated linear algebra class. And I'm five weeks in and... where's the calculus? Idk, but I like this course a lot more than calc. I remember in my History of Math class liking the concepts involving sequences, number theory, and algorithms a lot too. I also like geometry. I've liked algebraic topology ever since hs. I also like the idea of modeling mathematics.

I've had Game theory and Graph theory recommended to me as possible areas of study. Ofc, I'm still brain storming what I should do in grad school, and I'm finding it reassuring that some branches of math seem to be sticking with me. And I mean for long periods of time too. Others, unfortunately, haven't stuck so well. And yeah, I do get hung up on it. I want to have a strong foundation in math and constantly feel like I don't know nearly enough. In all fairness, I probably don't. Idk, I get good grades in the courses but I feel like there's something deeper to understand about all this that I'm just missing. And I don't actually understand all of it. Yet, so far, it's the only major I've tried where I felt like I belonged. Idk why, but with everything else, I felt out of place, couldn't get into the material as much, and I felt like people kind of knew it wasn't for me. I mean, during labs and such, I would kind of look like a dumbass. But with math discussions and essays, I feel more competent.

Ig pure math just ended up being more of my thing. Applied sciences, maybe not so much.

And I really do wish I was pushed to do more math when I was younger. I literally BEGGED my school to let me go further with it. I was always so bored in math class because I'd get everything immediately and be done with the work long before everyone else. But I felt kind of discouraged that they wouldn't let me. I remember not taking school that seriously as a kid. I got good grades still, but could have easily gotten a perfect GPA. I fucked around with standardized testing/never bothered to get good at it when I easily could have. Still got decent test scores in the end. Never studied for tests all that much either. I had to LEARN how to study in college.

Did anyone else feel dissatisfied with grade school? I think it didn't help that I was neurodivergent and had communication issues. And possibly issues with my attention span that went unnoticed (I'm AFAB). I just had no idea what to do with life because quite frankly, I found school discouraging and boring and the world didn't make sense to me.

Idk, this went off topic, but ig I'm trying to say that I'm still finding myself. And considering paths I didn't even know existed until very recently. I think being neurodivegent complicates things a lot because I'm really not on the same wavelength as a lot of people. My brain is different and I learn very differently from a lot of other people.

And in the adult world, this can be a little isolating. I think that's one reason I need to go back on campus for grad school and start talking to other people in my field more. I understand human interaction a lot better than I did as a child (I was borderline non-verbal, and kind of by choice). I can kind of mirror it now and wing it at times? Other times, if I'm, say, tired, I just don't care to mask as much. But I hear lots of mathematicians were really weird, so maybe I'll find some people in grad school who will get me more.

[tonystarktogo]

Dude your crack time travel au is SENDING me thank you for sharing it with us!!!!

You’re very welcome!! I’m glad I’m not the only one cackling like crazy about it lol

Here’s another small part (we’re getting close to the end though because inspiration or no inspiration, I have no desire to do a total canon rewrite so it’s gotta end at some point):

Standing inside his penthouse, listening to Rogers, Barton and Banner explain to Fury how they just happened to stumble over the Tesseract on a routine security check of Stark Tower’s roof and wouldn’t you know, they’ve managed to fight off the looming alien invasion before it could really start and secure the missing overpowered nightlight is one of the most surreal situations Tony has ever had the displeasure of experiencing. And he once watched the devastation of a never-to-be-mentioned game of tag between DUM-E, a drunk Rhodey and their way too sober linear algebra TA play out from up close. 

That said, all’s well that ends well and you don’t get much more of an all-around win for Team Earth than this, right? Great. Everybody grab your commemorate T-shirt on the way out and let’s go back home. 

Or out of Tony’s home at least.

Of course none of them have made any move to get up from Tony’s very comfortable couch so far. That’s precisely why he takes savage pleasure in the ominous twitch Fury’s eye has developed. Hey, if Tony has to suffer through this bullshit — he’s living it and he doesn’t fucking believe it, how dare reality let him down like this — he’s gonna take everyone he can reach down with him.

Although at this point, it’s more Rogers and Barton that are taking everyone down, with the occasional casual [read: mind-blowing] comment from Banner thrown in for shits and giggles. If Thor wasn’t too occupied gazing soulfully at his brother to join the fray, Fury definitely would’ve already pressed a self-destruction button somewhere.

The worst part is that Tony isn’t even sure what’s pissing him off so much about the mad quartet. It’s not that they’re plain crazy — plenty of great people are, in fact that’s usually a pro where Tony’s concerned — or capable when they get their shit together for like two seconds. And it’s not because of the thousand-yard-stares they keep exchanging like they’ve come up with their own secret language during the twenty minutes Tony turned his back on them either. Though those are annoying and the only reason Tony hasn’t chucked a glass at someone’s head yet is because they can’t seem to agree on the same fucking code. 

All of that is frustrating, don’t get him wrong. But it’s not the things they obviously don’t say [on a related note, Tony’s mental list of questions to ask and pointed remarks to make is growing steadily] it’s the things they do say. Case in point:

"-caution seemed appropriate," Rogers comes to an end with his long-winded speech in response to Fury’s direct "Why the fuck did you refuse to hand over the Tesseract to the recovery team?". A response that could be summed up with 'We don’t trust you', the first sign of common sense the legendary supersoldier has shown in Tony’s presence.

Before Fury can even open his mouth, Banner snaps his fingers. "The scepter! Did anyone keep an eye on the scepter?"

[cowgrls]

YOU ALL okay so my first day sucked because:

1. im fooking retaking linear algebra with the prof i hate just so i can take differential

2. im a fooking senior why do i still have registration problems..WELL I’ll tell you why. The stupid bitch ass professor that was supposed to teach human phys got fired because he’s been fucking and slutting with a student for like a year and so now I have to take this class as a cross registration course at a different school but my school officially enrolls me but anyways the office lady is telling me I can’t enroll in the lab I ONLY have time for because it’s overfilled but I don’t care im taking it when I’m taking it! you guys hired this dookie ass professor??!! why do I have to suffer the consequences?

3. I bought drinks with my friend and she forgot her ID and the waitress wouldn’t let her drink what I got her but I WAS BUYING IT AND I BOUHJT IT FOR HER AND MY FRIEND IS 21 AND FHE WAITRESS THREATENED TO THROW THE DRINKS THAT I WAS PAYING FOR AWAY????

4…..i just hate my college its ugly and gives me an eyesore

[kendrixtermina]

The brain really is very much like a very sophisticated statistical learning algorithm. 

I think the best summary of why parental abuse screws you is rly the statistics maxim “Garbage in, Garbage out”

Normally you’re supposed to see how failure brings bad consequences but sucess brings good ones so you’d take an action if sucess is reasonably likely. To “train” your little brain’s algorithms, your parents praise you when you do well & scold you when you fuck up, so as an adult you take actions that lead to good results results & avoid mistakes

But now look at what happens with abusive parents - first there is more garbled noise, unpredictability, such a random tantrums of anger. Random aggression doesn’t contain useful data, but it’s associated with a very big “weight” - social rejection is a strong motivator for a social animal to avoid. Not to speak of physical danger!

When there is garbled noise in the data, you can just pick up bullshit noise instead of signals - in a human, that would be overreacting to little details, nervousness or even full blown anxiety. You can’t find the cause, so your aversion response might get glued to any little incidental detail & be oversensitive in general. 

This is also why you can still be screwed hard if you have 1 ok parent because the inconsistency itself makes learning hard & makes you pick up “noise”. 

But also, even insofar as there is consistency, it’s very different from the praise/scolding scenario with a normal parent: 

Imagine for example an emotionally shallow control freak parent. If you do anything wrong, there is a disproportionate negative response, but if you make positive efforts, nobody cares. There is no praise. If you bring home a B you’re asked why it’s not an A. 

If you try to do anything of your own will, the result is always pain. 

So, acting is only ever painful and never positive. Is it then surprising that such a person might come out with self-motivation issues/learned helplessness? 

If there is nothing to gain and great risk of pain, doing nothing & avoiding efforts is actually rational. 

It’s a good strategy to evade any attention that might lead to more abuse, but a terrible one to get a college degree. So even if you know an effort is not futile & the aftermath of failure not devastating, the part that allocates your energy registers it as a futile waste with no hope of reward, and the part that averts threats freaks out over the negative evaluation. You feel very nervous and very unenergetic, and end up procrastinating easy or even enjoyable tasks. 

as in physics, It’s all fucking linear algebra! Linear algebra all the way down.... (makes me ponder a sci-fi story where someone ”mathematically subtracts” the impact of another person from their brain. Not just the memories, but all the ways in which yout thinking “algorithm” was adjusted because of them. This could be potentially quite unpredictable since everything is connected... - For example, the example of a bad person could have motivated you to be more moral. But it’s not like you need to be traumatized to be moral, generally, social support in your upbringing predicts higher agreeableness scores and the ability to think instead of react)

Even if you don’t look at the extreme case of abuse, you can explain a lot of what’s fucked up with current society in this way with how younger people are so over-controlled compared to any other point in human history. You should rly let your kids have independence & self-determination as soon as it is safe so they can learn those skills while their wee heads are still at their most pliable - in age-appropriate, safe settings of course.  For a smaller kid that still genuinely needs supervision, that can just mean a few chores, being allowed to play outside in the neighborhood and being asked for imput on household decisions that concern them. There was this one self-help book author who would regularily ask the kids how he could improve their experience.  

[tirednotflirting]

hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you (and i will hold on to you)

part two to but we were something, don’t you think so?

because I actually cannot stand leaving something too open ended. enjoy.

and if you want it, check it out on ao3 here

It’s a freezing cold, early Tuesday morning when Luke sees Ashton for the first time since the almost (but not quite) meeting at the stoplight at the edge of campus.

(This time it’s been 5 months and 4 days since he last saw Ashton. Back then his hair was longer and his attire was hardly weather appropriate. Luke had been paralyzed by memories and a thousand different what if possibilities, none of which had come true.)

It had been quite a hectic morning up to that point. Luke’s alarm had failed to go off (again) and it's the last day he’ll be meeting for his Advanced Linear Algebra course and it’s pretty vital that he make it to that lecture so he knows what to focus on for the final they’re having the next week. He rushes around the apartment, cursing Calum silently for not waking him. He knows it isn’t his roommate’s responsibility to keep track of Luke’s oversleeping habit but they’ve been living together for two years now and Luke has definitely had to wake Calum up to get to exams on time before. 

He rushes through an augmented version of his morning routine, quickly brushing his teeth and shoving a beanie over his bedhead curls, momentarily thankful for the cold that required something to cover his ears. He trips over himself as he pulls on a pair of jeans while shoving his textbooks and journals into his backpack. On his way out the door, Luke hastily locks it since he isn’t sure if Calum ended up back in his bedroom the night before or if he stayed with Michael again. He skips waiting for the elevator to race down the stairs and out the front door of his complex.

He’s finished running the first block when he feels his phone buzz and he’s already winded so he figures stopping for a quick second to check the message (likely one from Calum if he is home to ask why Luke slammed the front door) wouldn’t hurt. Only the notification wasn’t a text, it was an email from Luke’s professor.

My wife and I caught some bug over the weekend so class today will be canceled. I am sad to miss our last meeting but please feel free to come with any questions to my extended office hours later this week. Attached is the concept guide for the final I planned to go over today. Happy studying.

Luke takes a deep breath in through the nose and imagines the air he can see from the cold after exhaling to be all of the anger he feels at having to rush through the apartment for nothing. He considers for a moment just turning around and getting in some more rest since his next class isn’t until 3. But he’s got the study guide now and he is (unfortunately) awake, so he starts toward the university still but figures he can reward himself for not going back home with a coffee from the shop just off campus. 

Though tired still, Luke walks briskly to the shop since he had only grabbed his cardigan that he leaves hanging by the door since he couldn’t be bothered to hunt around for his coat. Especially so because he’s pretty sure it may still be in the back of Michael’s car anyway. He doesn’t live too far from campus though so soon enough, he’s pushing against the door to enter the warm shop. 

He’s always loved this place. The exposed brick and odd collection of thrift store comfy chairs and tables make the shop look like a scene out of a TV show about college or something and Luke lives for any cheesy college experience he can get. He especially loves it there in the winter, when he knows he can step inside with a bright red nose and immediately be enveloped with a cinnamon scented warmth that the chain places could only ever dream of achieving. 

He steps to the counter and orders one of the seasonal lattes to have in a mug rather than a to go cup and after providing his name and paying the kind, blushing girl at the register, he turns to find a spot to cozy up in for the next few hours.

And that’s when he locks eyes with Ashton.

His hair is shorter and red now, like the color on a candy cane but deeper and it matches the blush currently spread across his cheeks. He’s at one of the bigger tables, surrounded by several textbooks and journals. His glasses sit on the edge of his nose, threatening to fall onto the pages in front of him. The dark sweater he has on is the kind that makes his hazel eyes appear a bit darker around the edges. 

Luke’s attention is briefly drawn away from him when he hears his name called from the counter and he jumps just slightly and before quickly turning to go get the mug, he swears he sees a smirk play at the edges of Ashton’s lips. 

He reaches the counter and thanks the barista and when he turns back, Ashton is standing right in front of him and it takes everything in Luke to not drop the mug of sugary coffee. His momentary observation about Ashton’s eyes is emphasized further now that they stand only a couple feet away from one another, the closest they’ve been physically in nearly 18 months.

“Would you like to join me at my table?” Ashton asks, the words coming out quick but with a tone of hesitation, as though his brain was fighting against his lips on whether or not to ask. 

Luke had imagined a moment almost exactly like this a million different ways. Only recently had he given up on the idea of ever running into him again, of being asked to join him for a meeting that would become another big, Hollywood produced moment in Luke’s memory. However, in every one of those fantasies that Luke had allowed to play out in his mind, he had failed to factor in what it would feel like to hear the forgotten voice of a lost love. He felt like he had been betrayed by his own memories because the voice he had been hearing as he tried to sleep wasn’t the exact tone or depth of what he had just heard again. 

After a moment, Luke releases the breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding in as he speaks just one word. “Yes.”

He follows Ashton back to the table, letting his bag fall off his shoulder to gently land at the floor and sets his mug down a safe distance from the big, scary law textbooks Ashton has opened up on the table. He takes a seat but keeps his feet tucked below his chair, worried that any direct physical contact might cause a forest fire or something. “Are you already studying for the bar then?”

Ashton’s brows shoot up as he takes his place on the opposite side of the table. “Oh, um yes,” he nods quickly, a faint blush still painted on his cheeks. “I’m taking the exam at the beginning of June but I haven’t taken a look at some of this stuff in ages, you know?”

Luke nods slowly, remembering the times they would lie in bed together after Ashton had been accepted to their university’s law program and Luke would run his fingers up and down his back while listening to Ashton speak excitedly about far off exams and internships. He had told him all about it because Luke was supposed to be there, cheering him on while he read and interpreted case files. A lot had changed. 

He’s pulling his textbook out of his bag and setting it on the table while trying to think of more to say when Ashton speaks first. “Linear Algebra? Were you able to get into Henderson’s course? I know you always talked about him like he was a rock star during registration week.”

Luke’s throat feels dry and he’s wondering if this is all maybe actually a dream. Like maybe he’ll wake up in a few minutes to the alarm he thought he missed this morning and this is all just his subconscious playing a really cruel joke on him. “Yeah, our last lecture was meant to be this morning but he’s sick and,” Luke pauses for a moment and takes another deep breath and sip of his drink and realizes he cannot make small talk with someone who used to be his entire world. “Ashton, what’s going on?”

Ashton licks his lips before opening his mouth as though to respond but Luke cuts him off. “You dumped me with no warning at all because you were worried about making his law thing work and now you’re inviting me to sit with you while you study for the bar and my head is spinning.”

“I miss you.”

“Wha-”

“And I know that’s bullshit and I know it's been like a year and a half and I know that I saw you in the summer and I didn’t say anything and that was probably the worst thing I’ve ever done,” he speaks quickly, something like panic at the edge of his words. “I let my insecurity get the best of me. I convinced myself I wasn’t going to be good enough at this and that I would have to spend all my time working on all of this and that I wouldn’t have enough time left to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I was so scared of us turning into an afterthought in my mind.”

“So rather than talking to me you just ended it so we wouldn’t have to be a thought at all?” Luke scoffs. 

“I wanted to give you the world. I wanted you to be my world. Nothing less than that seemed worthy. And if I wasn’t going to be able to give that to you, I didn’t want to keep you from the possibility of finding someone who could.”

“Damn it, Ashton,” Luke shakes his head and checks around for people looking to make sure his volume is controlled. “All I wanted was you. Fuck, all I want is you.”

“Even now?” the red headed boy whispers, his eyes just a touch glossy. “Even after July?”

Luke feels a burning at his eyes and immediately blames the cold wind, despite being inside for nearly 15 minutes now. “July ripped my heart apart in a way that I had never felt before. And in a way, I think it was what I needed. Like, it had a sense of finality to it. And I’ve been doing better. But that doesn’t change the fact that I would turn the entire world upside down for you. For us.”

They’re both quiet for a few minutes after that. Luke takes a few more sips of his drink and watches the steam rise from the mug in between each one. Eventually he looks past the steam to where Ashton sits as he takes Luke in. Like he’s trying to see into his thoughts. Eventually he clears his throat and runs a hand through the red tousled curls.

“When I saw you in July, I didn’t say anything because I felt like nothing I could say to you would fix anything. That my trying to fix anything would be like trying to get the toothpaste back in the tube, ya know? But when I got home, I called my therapist and I just told her everything. I had never talked to her about us before because I was too scared of being judged. And when I told her that she told me it was pretty possible that the way I ended things was for the same reason. And so all semester I was trying to find a way to run into you again. And I guess the universe picked for that to happen today.”

“I just wanted to support you. Just wanted to love you,” Luke shakes his head, a sad smile pulling delicately at his cheeks.

“And I was so scared to let you.”

“Would you let me now?” Luke asks and hopes there’s less desperation in his voice than what he senses there to be. “Would you let me take care of you a bit? In the way you always did for me?”

Hesitantly, Ashton lifts his arm from where it’s been resting at this side and reaches a hand out over the papers taking up his half of the tablespace. “I’d love nothing more.”

Luke reaches a hand up and intertwines their fingers while his gaze stays locked with Ashton’s. He lets out a breathy giggle when Ashton moves to rub his thumb in small patterns on Luke’s palm, the blonde’s eyes dropping to where they rest. The hazel eyed boy smiles. “I know this conversation isn’t over and we really do have a lot of ground to cover. But I don’t ever want to go another day without making you laugh.”

Luke’s eyes widen, wondering if Ashton felt the weight of his words in the same way Luke did. But then he looks up from their hands to Ashton’s face again, only to find him nodding with understanding. Slowly, he lets his feet drop from where they’ve pulled below his chair and he feels his boots knock against Ashton’s. Neither make a move to change the position though. Luke bites his lip briefly in thought before replying. “I feel exactly the same.”

The rest of the morning and early afternoon are spent catching up in a way that should have felt strange, given that they were describing their day to day life to someone who they used to start and end every single one with. But it felt easy and it felt right and Ashton had been correct that they needed to sit down and talk through the hard stuff but there was always tomorrow (and every day after that). When it finally got to the time Luke needed to make his way over to the math department for his next class, Ashton offers to walk with him. As they continue conversation on their walk across the campus, Luke can’t help but notice how the whole scene feels like watching an old, beloved movie after not seeing it for a few years. Everything feels so familiar but there’s a new meaning to it, one that couldn’t be seen the first time around. 

When they reach the doors to the building, they stop just before the steps, their hands still tangled together between them. “Would you let me make you dinner tonight? I’ve got the stuff for that pasta thing you always liked and a bottle of red?” 

Luke smirks and lifts a brow, teasingly. “You drink red wine? Proper law student now, huh?” Ashton rolls his eyes but squeezes his palm against Luke’s. “But yes, that sounds nice. What’s the gate code?”

“Still the same.”

Luke lets out a laugh. “I’m sorry, you kept your gate code as your ex’s birthday?”

Ashton shrugs, a grin spreading across his own cheeks. “Listen, I knew I would never forget the code that way.”

Luke blushes, the whole day finally feeling real with that response because it was such an Ashton thing to do. Maybe they did still know each other. “I’ll see you later, Ash.”

“See you soon, Luke.”

They part ways then and Luke makes his way up the steps. He’s just about to reach for the door when something buried deep his mind tells him to turn around. And when he does, their eyes lock again and small matching smiles pull at their lips. And now Luke knows, he never has to worry about Ashton not looking back again.

*

[officialcolumbiauniversity]

impostor syndrome in STEM

This is a post I wrote before Columbia required students to move out due to the pandemic.

February 25. I thought I’d write about this because I was reading a blog post about impostor syndrome to make myself feel better and remembered I have a blog. And people would probably like to hear what I’m thinking.

I spent all of yesterday in lab, which if you don’t remember from my last post is brand-spankin’-new and super fancy and is all sorts of out of my league knowledge-wise. My PI and I chatted about what project I’d start working on, and afterwards I stuck around to ask him questions about the laser lab because I realized that I wasn’t really asking questions when it was him and the grad students with me. So I felt safe asking the questions I did, which included “why don’t we have to lint-roll our entire body if we have to dust our shoes before entering the lab?” (the answer was efficiency) and “what’s the point in having two lenses if one makes the laser smaller and the other just makes it bigger again?” (the answer had something to do with focusing and cleaning the beam) and other questions that I thought were inane and stuff I should have been able to understand from the papers I read. He was very nice about answering all my questions and walking me through a dumbed-down version of optics in general.

I told my PI after that I don’t ask a lot of questions in lab because I can’t tell the difference between questions that I should know the answer to and waste everyone’s time, and questions that would actually create productive discussion. And he responded that there’s no such thing as a dumb question, which of course I already know since professors say that all the time. But I didn’t realize until this morning how much I do believe there is such a thing as a dumb question, and that I ask too many of them.

The thing is, I truly feel as though I’m not smart enough to make it as a scientist. I feel like everything I think of has already been thought and answered, and I can’t remember the last time I had an original thought. I feel like I ask questions that a tourist would ask, not questions that someone about to get involved in the research would ask. 

I think that this blog makes me look like a STEM major who knows what they’re doing and is enthusiastic about their career as a scientist, wherever it may take them. But I just want to make it clear that I am not effortlessly enthusiastic about it: most of the time I’m paralyzed by fear about not making it into a top 10 chem grad school and then either becoming a lab tech for the rest of my scientific career or going into a different field and wasting this expensive-ass degree. I have a sub-3.0 GPA, and it’s preventing me from applying for fellowships that literally everyone seems to do, like SURF in the bio department, which sophomores and freshmen get effortlessly. I’m terrified for this summer because if I don’t figure something out soon I’m going to waste the last summer I have, the only summer where I can actually create connections and a network to figure something out post-grad. And obviously I can’t apply to grad schools with a 2-something GPA. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.

But it’s not just my GPA that bothers me. These classes I’m taking, like right now I’m taking linear algebra and physics, should be easy As. I love both subjects and I feel like I’ve mastered the material we’ve covered so far and I feel confident solving p-sets. But when I go to pick up my graded p-sets, I have to flip through everyone else’s 15/15s and 41/42s to find my 9/15 and 38/42. These are classes that I’m over-prepared for, classes that are filled with freshmen, classes where professors go out of their way to help everyone get the highest grade possible. And to see myself get average and below-average grades is bewildering and beyond disheartening.

I try to make myself feel better by reminding myself “science isn’t about good grades it’s about being a curious and thorough researcher,” but then I come into the research lab and can’t think of a single other question than ones about the technicalities of the lab set-up. I ask about mirrors and lasers and why the room is always dark, when I feel like I should be asking questions about -- well I honestly don’t even know. Like the math or concepts or something. I ended up dropping a class that I was really excited about taking this semester, because it’s a grad course and I felt uncomfortable asking questions so I just fell too far behind. Other students asked really thoughtful questions and I just asked questions about notation.

So, yeah. That’s how I feel a majority of the time. I wonder every day what makes me cut out for my major, and if I’m trying hard enough. I don’t even know if I should be going into academia, because I’m not exactly excited by the idea of being plagued with impostor syndrome my whole career, no matter how many other people also experience it. 

But I haven’t ever stopped trying in my major. And I guess that’s my point, at least of this post: I’m hopeful that science isn’t about having the grades or knowing everything, in the long run. I’m hopeful that whatever I have right now is worth something, and that I’ll be able to build a career I love on top of it. But the purpose of this post was just to let you guys know that for many undergrads here preparing for STEM careers, there’s no amount of prestige that can get rid of these insecurities. For example, even if I did get into my dream grad school (Stanford), I’d be constantly worried that I fluffed my application to make myself look good and they let me in unwittingly. So, no, being in a major I love doesn’t protect me from all the post-undergrad anxieties.

Update: it’s March 29, the day I’m posting this, and as you well know COVID-19 is in full swing in the US. Columbia was quick to send all students home, and ultimately decided that this semester would be graded on a pass/fail basis for all students, with no exceptions. If you’re unfamiliar with the system, the key piece of info is that Pass grades have no weight on your GPA, but Fail grades do (as a 1.0). Many people argue that a mandatory P/F system is beneficial to students who can’t study under their current situations, and I agree with that. I personally can’t study effectively in my situation. But I’m also panicking over the fact that I won’t be able to boost my GPA this semester, leaving me with a shitty GPA for yet another year (if we return in the fall). Many internships I was in the process of applying to will be revoked, if not because of the pandemic then because my personal statement claiming “my GPA by the start of this internship will have been brought up by my efforts this semester” will be absolutely inaccurate. Applying to grad school in the fall is a laughable wish; I’ll need to take a gap year most likely, since I won’t be able to land a job. What I really need is for Passes to weigh as 4.0s, but I doubt the university will do that. Anyways, that was just an update on the GPA part of the rant above. Hope y’all are staying safe.

[beatrice-otter]

Yuletide Recs 2019

Happy Yuletide, everyone! First, I got a delightful little fic written for me: promenade.  My Fair Lady, Eliza Doolittle and Mrs. Higgins.  Wonderful story.  Mrs. Higgins was superb, and Eliza's reactions to the English upper class abroad are perfect. Here are some other fics I have enjoyed: 4'33"--John Cage The Sound Of A Yuletide Fic Not Being Written. There sure are a lot of cars going by.  Great meta look at writing, and 4'33" The Addams Family (movies) An Addams Family Contract (Written in Secret, Signed in Blood).  “I’m an Addams,” Debbie protests indignantly. Immediately after making this statement, Debbie realized that it was true.  (Or, Wednesday wants to exorcise Debbie. Debbie wants to kill Wednesday. A negotiation begins.)  This is AMAZING and hysterically funny, and the thought of Debbie and Wednesday working together is TERRIFYING. Don't I Deserve Love (and Jewelry).  The plan to win Wednesday’s friendship did not start well. She shared her admiration for the girl’s blowtorch, then hinted about her own childhood affinity for matchsticks and fire accelerants, but Wednesday was unimpressed.  Do better,” she said before lowering her hockey mask and stalking after Pubert. Honeymoon in Transylvania.  Ahahahaha, this is wonderful.  Gomez and Morticia vs. the TSA! Alien Series A Room with a Crappy View. 17k of Ripley and Hicks awesomeness post-Aliens. This is an absolutely AMAZEBALLS fic, and I LOVE it. I love that they deal with their trauma. I love how they wrote the Colonel, doing the best she could on the evidence she had and how frustrating that was and yet, when you look at it from her POV, what better way could she have handled it? The action is great, the relationships between Ripley and Hicks and Bishop were awesome, this is an absolute treat. All About Eve Getting Back to Being a Woman.  Karen knew enough not to go to New Haven.  Never let it be said that Margo Channing doesn't know how to take care of her friends.  I love this. I could just hear Bette Davis and the others saying their lines, and the ending is perfect--I think Karen and Lloyd will be able to have a much better relationship after this, if he's willing to accept and live into the changed relationship. Till I have the possession of everything she touches.  Addison DeWitt/Eve Harrington and their daughter.  VERY well done Addison perspective. Aubrey-Maturin series. Vent de Boulet.  Jack & Aubrey, Teen.  The aftermath of Stephen's escape from the French interrogators at Port Mahon.  Wonderful portrayal of the relationship between them and natural consequences of their trauma-filled lives. Babette's Feast Body and Soul.  After the French dinner, a new normal established itself among the faithful. Ballet Shoes A Long Way from the Cromwell Road.  Petrova visits Pauline in Hollywood after the war ends. Bletchley Circle Logical Recovery.  After the showdown with Marta Magro at the warehouses, Jean, Millie, and Lucy embark for Glasgow to find Eliška. Archival research, an extended stay with Jean's cousin, undercover rescue missions, and much emotional processing of past events ensue. Cabaret Infinite Variety.  London, 1950. Clifford has coming looking for Sally. Instead he finds a girl who may or may not be her – or their – daughter, the reclusive former Master of Ceremonies, and an annoying parrot. He becomes part of their strange household, full of love and bickering; sorrow, pain and music. No-one will tell him where Sally is, or even whether she’s alive. No-one will tell him anything. Except the parrot, who tells him that life is a Cabaret.  Oh, wow, this is painful but SO GOOD and the ending is perfect. DC Teen Titans From Cold to Fire.  "Do you want to go out with me?" "What?" Young Justice Getting Stupid in your area.  Hang-time includes considerations of evil clones and taking down a newly raised lich lord.  Love the banter. Die Hard Your Answers Please.  “Come on, kid,” McClane said gruffly. “This place is fucking depressing. You’re coming to stay with me.” Enchanted Forrest Chronicles Best Served Cold.  In which Antorell causes trouble in the Enchanted Forest, and Cimorene and Alianora make an amphibious new friend.  Hilarious, I love Ribbita! Ghostbusters Better Than Roses. Janine dates. It's...something. The Goblin Emperor Imperial (non) Immunity.  Csevet doesn't get sick. Maia's not so confident. Light a Mourner's Candle.  The Archprelate finds a chaplain for Maia. Against a Sure Winter.  When the opportunity arose to become one of the four ceremonial bodyguards for the new Emperor, Cala Athmaza volunteered. He didn't fully realize what he was letting himself in for, but he knew in his heart he had made the right choice. Sugar Lumps.  Maia spends some time with his horse. Greek Mythology beauty, her artificers.  Shortly after their wedding, Aphrodite sustains a small wound.  Really great Aphrodite/Hephaestus dynamic. a thing of beauty, golden.  Olympus’ one-century wonder appears in Hephaestus’ workshop between one strike on his anvil and the next..  Another really great Aphrodite/Hephaestus fic. Hancock yeah I know the shortcut, rather take the long way. Ray daydreams a New York that looks a lot like something out of an old Daredevil comic - towers looming over the city like cragged, jaded sentries, impartial to the neon kaleidoscope of chaos churning along below them. Hancock roosts on the tallest, craggiest one of course, brooding as he watches the slow pulsing heartbeat of the city below him. Ready to dive off his perch and into action with the first cry of distress, and there’s probably lots of those in a city like New York. Lots of zooming around, saving people, saving the world. Hopefully with slightly less metaphorical middle fingers to the world. And less alcohol. Ray’s not an idiot though, and one sparkly life-changing month doesn’t just fix people. History RPF 15th Century. these late eclipses.  Anne Neville, like others of her line, is born with a gift.  I LOVE the way magic is brought into this, it melds so well with the history. 19th Century/German folklore The Bargain.  Bettina finds a secret door at her grandmother's house, one that leads to something very unexpected. The things she learns as a result change her life in small but important ways. Imperial Radch Still Left in Want of Mercy.  The Republic of Two Systems is about a month old. Seivarden is having yet another crisis - can Mercy of Kalr get her through it? Maybe, with the crew's and Fleet Captain's help.  Interesting Ship perspective. high above the trees.  An unexpected embassy. Really excellent, probably the best way I've ever seen "Awn Lives" done. The Incredibles Life of a Superhero, Junior Grade.  Fortunately, this was Tuesday night training, not a real villain-chasing experience. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell The Magicians of Starecross Hall.  Being a series of interludes in the life of John Segundus, newly practical magician, in the year following the disappearances of Messrs. Strange and Norrell. Including: a new school for young magicians, explorations of the King’s Roads, Lady Pole’s alarming needle-work, unanticipated trips to Faerie, and John Childermass.  I love this story!  How the school got started, and 'Miss Wintertowne' (although I do think she would style herself 'Mrs' Wintertowne, because she is married and up through the 18th Century 'Mistress/Mrs' vs. 'Miss' had as much to do with age and experience and such as it did with marital status) and how she uses embroidery as a kind of art therapy.  I love the slow burn, and I love the stuff about exploring the King's Roads and Faerie.  It is excellent and awesome. Lilo & Stitch The Dance.  Lilo peeked out from behind the curtains and looked over the stage. A Little Princess Discipulae.  "I just realized," Sara said. "Becky, I could have a tutor now. I could hire someone to teach me anything I wanted. All the things that are hard to learn alone from books — Greek and Latin, Sanskrit, algebra, anything I wanted. What would you learn, Becky, if you could?"  Really great look at what their lives could be like post-canon. Marvel Captain Marvel Take my hand (and we'll march to the front lines). There's a dream Vers has sometimes. this youthful heart can love you. Carol waited a week before she left with the Skrulls. Space Cases.  Monica tried many other times to win her mother over to a pet. A rabbit, a pony, a parakeet. This is not any of those stories. This is the story of Monica Rambeau and a Flerken named Goose.  Or: Why Nick Fury is never allowed to babysit ever again. The Tesseract's Wife.  A straight line is not the shortest distance between two points: non-linear snapshots of a love story. Fly Me To The Moon.  "It's a vacation. Like spring break," Carol says. Monica's eyes widen. "Really? So we can hang out? What are we going to do?" "Well," Carol says, leaning back in her chair and flashing that old, familiar smirk. "I thought we could go to the moon." Into the Spiderverse i got you.  Miles thinks he's hiding the truth about Spider-Man, but one unfortunate night, it comes to light. one last leap.  Telling his parents he's Spider-Man is a leap of faith Miles can't bring himself to take. My Life to Liv.  Liv survived her encounters with her interdimensional Spider-nemeses, of course. So what's next for her? Interdimensional Phone Pals.  Gwen Stacy is many things, but open to friendships isn’t really one of them.  Or,  Five rules Gwen makes for herself, and how Peter B. makes her question them. Into the Spiderverse/Murder, She Wrote Spider, She Wrote.  Miles and May visit her old friend Jessica in Cabot Cove. Mulan (1998) the proper order of things. Great outsider perspective. The Mummy After the Mummy.  London was becoming Rick's least favourite place, and not just because of all the rain. Loving Evy was one thing: figuring out whether she loved him back after the Egyptian heat faded away was something else. Where's a good rising of the undead when you need one? Don't worry, Jonathan found one.  Lovely fun adventure. Course Correction.  Jonathan really is serious about staying away from tombs and mummies this time (except trouble always seems to find him). Good thing Ardeth is there to help him stay on-track. Travelers by Night.  Very quickly, Jonathan weighed the odds. On one hand, potential death, whether by armed bandits, a mummy’s curse, or people who looked like bandits and who were very angry about someone unleashing a mummy’s curse. On the other hand, potential riches, home ground, and topics of conversation other than what happened at school fifteen years ago and who got it in the neck where. Murderbot How I Spent My Vacation Between Survey Missions. What happens when ART reunites with Murderbot during another break between research survey missions? Media gets viewed, of course, but there might also be some bad news for more shady corporations. Situation Normal.  Hi, I said, along with amusement sigil 159 = wave. It seemed a little inadequate, but what do you say to the ship that radically altered your appearance, helped you figure out your past, and also threatened you with terrifying weapons? Amusement sigils seemed like my best bet. My Fair Lady Here We Are Together.  Eliza and Freddy are working together. Henry isn't happy, and makes sure everyone knows it. One Day at a Time what they say about the young. Without the kids around, it feels like everything has changed, except for all the other things about Penelope's life that could change, too. a return to normal.  Penelope and Schneider's Friday night plans fall through, so they have a movie night instead.  Very sweet. Persuasion. The Pen in Their Hands. Five letters that were written, but were never sent, aboard H.M.S. Laconia. (And one that was.) Smooth Water. “If I wanted easy comfort, I should not have become a captain’s wife.” Wonderful Austen voice. A Step Not Taken.  What if that day at Lyme had gone just a little differently? Peter Wimsey The Duke's Parlormaid.  A story in correspondence, with detective interruptions.  Really captured the feel of the books and all the character voices. Poirot The Mice Will Play.  When Poirot returns unexpectedly from a case, he finds out something new about Miss Lemon. RED The One Bathtub.  “I did have dinner plans,” Han said, grudgingly, and so Victoria kicked the door in and graciously allowed Han to be the first into the bathroom. She understood the pain of missed reservations. Rivers of London Through All the Years, This Is My Home.  At night, when the rest of the staff and most, if not all, of the masters were asleep, Molly would wander the moonlit halls and remember what fresh air felt like on her skin. Of Molly, of Thomas, and of the years they've spent together - and of the Folly, strong and everlasting.  Lovely Molly perspective. Peelian Principles.  "You're very calm about this," Seawoll said on the fifth day.  Nightingale's perspective on Peter's time as a hostage, and REALLY AWESOME. UXB.  When one the deadliest weapons of the Blitz threatens London once again, Peter finds himself on the front line.  Wonderful casefic, just perfect. Saved! Conversation Starters. Cassandra and Roland have five important conversations. Sense and Sensibility Realization and Renewal.  As Marianne recovers, Elinor and Colonel Brandon find themselves drawn to one another. Sense8 Blue and Gold.  Wolfgang comes home with Kala and Rajan after Paris. Finding a place with them. Star Trek: Rihannsu Day Comes Up New.  "I have done something spectacularly stupid," Arrhae said.  This is a wonderful extension and meditation on what might happen past canon.  Ever since I first read The Romulan Way as a teen, I've wondered what happened to Arrhae in the end, and the subsequent books were great but didn't answer the ultimate question.  This doesn't either, but it suggests something further, which I appreciate. Terminator Movies A Fistful of Sarahs.  The sky cracks open, and Sarah watches herself tumble out of a rift in the space time continuum. She’s older than she is now, and she’s got a lot more scars, and she’s carrying the biggest and weirdest looking gun Sarah’s ever seen. with all the hope in my heart (and doubt in my mind). Sarah Connor has done this before. Dani has not. Post-Terminator: Dark Fate. Fate, the Future, and Other Sons of Bitches.  Sarah and Dani hit the road. Winnie the Pooh In Which Pooh Hunts for the Meaning of Christmas.  Pooh finds a mysterious envelope pinned to the door of his house. In Which Eeyore Loses His Tail Again, Or At Least Plans To.  It's a bright, sunny day, and Eeyore has a plan to make it tolerable. Now if only his friends will cooperate.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: New Life, short 19--Friendly

Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow. A series of oneshots set after Beyond this Existence.

Current short: “Friendly.”  Even comes to Demyx to have a wound healed, only to end up in a deeper conversation neither of them want to be having.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

The air had grown cold again.

The changes to the heating system in the castle could only do so much good; Demyx still shivered, especially as he struggled with armloads of wet sheets. A faint, virginal snow was starting to fall, but like the flurries before it, probably wouldn’t stick.

He brought the clean, wet clothing back downstairs. There was a line in one of the empty rooms on their floor; leaving it all upstairs would just make it freeze. Demyx longed, suddenly and out of nowhere, for a dryer, for a fresh hot blanket. Appliances were really the only things he missed about being a Nobody.

He saw Even reaching for their apartment door, holding something wrapped tightly around his forearm. “Good, you’re here,” he said through his teeth.

“What’s wrong?” Demyx asked him. “What’d you do to yourself?”

“What indeed,” Even muttered. “Either way I need your help.”

Demyx decided that he’d gloat later; how many times had Even saved his own skin? “Come on. Sit down.” He guided Even over to the couch and reached for his medic bag, at the door, and cast a spell on his hands to kill the germs. “Is it bleeding? Can I see it?”

“Aren’t you going to wash your hands first?” Even asked sourly.

Demyx fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I already cleaned them with magic.” He took Even’s bony wrist into one hand and unwrapped the cloth. He saw a nasty gash, surrounded by what looked to be chemical burns. “Ouch. How’d you do that?” He started to clean it gently, staunching the bleeding and soothing the burns, goading the skin to grow and heal. Even’s energy felt strange; cold, analytical, an undertone of something hidden. In and around the wound were other scars--rough, red, and angry, woven together like branches on a tree. Demyx wondered for the first time how Vexen had passed, and suddenly was intensely grateful for his own uneventful death (relatively speaking).

“A beaker got too hot, and burst. These things happen. All the glass I work with is so old, it’s only a matter of time. I would’ve tended to it myself, but…”

“I’m sure you would’ve,” Demyx said evenly. “How’s that feel?”

“Better. Faster that what I could’ve done. You have my thanks.” His tone was brisk.

“It’s not too late for you to learn,” Demyx said.

“What, old dog, new tricks?” Even asked. “I’ve studied enough medicine. This might surprise you, but I don’t exactly have… the proper countenance.”

Demyx laughed a little. “It’s okay.”

He rolled his sleeve down over the newly-healed wound. “I’ve enough of bodies, I think.”

Even had been keeping all his projects to himself. “...Yeah?”

“The human body is so… fragile. So fallible.”

“I know,” Demyx said. “Preaching to the choir.”

Even almost looked as if he would stand. “You’re still… gung-ho, about this, then?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I recall once upon a time you were quite flighty.”

“Then isn’t now.” It wasn’t that warm in here either; Demyx figured he should probably build a fire.

Even exhaled heavily. “I… apologize if that remark offended you.”

Demyx knelt by the hearth and started to lay down some kindling. “It didn’t.”

“Yet your tone is rather cold.”

“As is yours. As is all of you, actually.”

“Cold like ice?” Even asked.

Demyx looked up. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I think we’re far beyond tailoring responses for tact.”

“Are we?” He crumpled some paper and lit it with a match, letting the fire flick across the paper before laying it on the kindling. Even flinched just the slightest; almost imperceptibly. But Demyx had studied people long enough to tell the difference. “For a while I thought we were getting closer. But you’re still hiding yourself away, so. I don’t know what that means.” The fire began to burn eagerly, and he held his hands in front of it to warm them. “You can go, if you want. Your arm should be fine.”

“...Quite. Thank you.”

“Sure.” Demyx watched the colors, red and orange and yellow, a soft percussive prickling.

He heard Even turn. “All these… words about the linearity of progress, of healing. You must realize that this isn’t as easy for me as it is for you.”

“It’s not easy.” He met his eyes. “It’s never easy. Not for a minute. You don’t know the half of it.”

Even said nothing.

“You know I take meds? We both do. Otherwise the trauma literally makes me unable to function. And I’ve heard Ienzo talk about what happened in the basement, and what happened at Castle Oblivion. I know, Even. I know what you did to him, and to Ansem.”

For a second his expression slackened somewhat. “You must be very angry with me, then.”

“Ienzo forgives you. So I do too.” He added a small log to the fire.

“You must understand, then. How difficult it is to move on. I see the reminders of it every day.”

“You think I don’t?” He swallowed, and was surprised to feel the lump in his throat. “Even, you can’t keep living like this.”

Demyx expected defensiveness from him, but all he said was, “I know.” He sat on the couch. “I’m aware this is not healthy. Physically or mentally. What am I to do? Burden that boy with the weight of these things I supposedly feel?”

“What about Ansem? Or Aeleus or Dilan? Aren’t they your friends?”

““Friend” is a loose term.”

“What about me, then? I’m not... I’m not him, Even. I’m not Demyx.”

“Yet you wear the same face and have the same name.”

“You know what I mean.” He bit his lip. “Do you want to get better? Or are you just running from anything meaningful?”

He turned pink. “Part of it is… I hope… practicality,” he said slowly. “I recall that, for you… the intensity of your returning humanity pushed you to the edge. I do not wish to experience that. I do not need my existence to be so… precarious.”

Demyx sighed. “Is this about Ansem? About when he tried to--”

“I do not wish to be a burden. On anyone. I do not crave… pity.”

“You can’t stay in this middle state forever, though. You need to let your heart grow.”

Even said nothing, and dropped his gaze.

“I can help you,” Demyx said. “I know how it feels, Even. I think I might be the only one.”

He was silent, and Demyx wondered if he’d touched a nerve. Finally, “Was it moreso… memories, or feelings?” he asked.

“The memories came… later,” he said. “It was… anxiety more than anything. And nightmares. And then… I…”

“You fell in love?” he said dryly.

“Well, yeah. It’s about… seeing and being seen, or whatever. When I realized he loved me back, it… it hurt. I thought I was having a heart attack. But I don’t think it necessarily has to be romantic. You have to… decide to be human.”

Even said nothing.

“Don’t you want that?” Demyx asked.

He sighed. “I like to think so.”

“It’s better than being numb all the time.”

“Worth the anxiety that makes you unable to function?”

Demyx bit his lip. He was trying to be patient, but now he was just getting irritated. “Even, I don’t know, okay? I can’t make this better for you. I can’t convince you to want something when you so clearly don’t.”

He seemed startled by this.

“You want to be miserable and alone, that’s fine by me.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them.

“Well. If that’s how you feel.” He left without another word.

---

“I’m a terrible person,” Demyx said. “I… I yelled at him, Ienzo. He needed help, and I--”

On the other end of the phone call, Ienzo’s voice was calm. “Even knows how to get under people’s skin. It’s a defense mechanism. He wanted you to get mad at him.”

The tears in his eyes wobbled. “You think?”

“Oh, I’m positive. He wanted to have an excuse to not put the work in.” A pause. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. If it makes you feel better, try apologizing, though I admit that’s something of a powder keg.”

“Aren’t you worried about him?”

“Of course I am,” he said slowly. “But, Demyx, it’s like… herding cats.”

Demyx looked over at their own cat, curled on the bed.

“Do you want me to come talk to you?” Ienzo asked. “Are you alright?”

Demyx sighed. “I think I’ve got it.”

---

He went down to Even’s lab. His heart was racing, but he tried to hold firm, rehearsing what he might say. The door was, to his surprise, slightly ajar.

Down here it was even colder, and he shivered. He opened the door a bit more, flinched when it creaked. He was half expecting Even to be gone; but he was by the window, staring down. “Hey,” he said softly. “Listen, I--”

“You were right.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Does your hearing need to be checked? You were right.” He nearly turned, then stopped himself. “You can’t do algebra, yet you have a better understanding of humanity than I after years of study. It is… galling.”

“Uh… sorry? I guess?” Demyx chanced talking a few steps towards him.

“I’ve been making excuses. I’ve been… lazy. I’ve been trying to save myself from this… remorse, because I don't want any of you see me fall apart. Why is it you care, Demyx? After all my belittling of you?”

“That was years ago.”

“Does it matter?”

Demyx sighed. He reached out to touch Even’s arm and just barely felt him flinch.

“I feel… stuck. I didn’t realize… that this feeling is not productive.”

“You can change that.”

He nodded.

“Besides, we’re… we’re sort of family, right? What other reason do I need?”

Even shuddered a little. Demyx couldn’t quite see his face, but he realized that he was probably crying. He looked out the window too, at the snow, still falling. “It’s hard to be vulnerable. I know. Especially after what we all went through. It fucking sucks, right? That to survive all that, now we have to deal with this…”

“...Psychological consequence?”

“I was going to say “bullshit”, but that works too.”

There was a moment or two of silence. “I forget what it is to… care,” Even said. “But isn’t that what’s been missing? From this… atonement? I can feel passionate about numbers, about the science, but I haven’t seen beyond that. So you’re right. It’s time to shore up. I should at the very least be the bigger grown-up than you.”

Demyx laughed a little. “I know you didn’t have many options, but… thanks for letting me be the one to deliver the replica.”

“Thanks for following through. For once.”

“I’m going to hug you now.”

“I’d rather you didn't.”

“Too late.” Demyx gave him a quick squeeze, and heard him sigh heavily. “Come have dinner with us.”

“...Alright. I… it is rather cold in here, isn’t it? I should get that looked at.” He looked away, and Demyx pretended not to notice him drying his eyes. “You’re not half-bad.”

“Back at you.”

[justheretobreakthings]

Welcome to the Family - Chapter 6

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Word Count: 3,049 (Total Word Count: 15,010) Read on AO3

Story Summary: Lance had been excited about his family taking in a foster kid, eager to get to meet his brand new little brother or sister, who would surely adore and idolize their super cool Big Brother Lance. What he got instead was a sullen, quiet, temperamental teenage housemate with a criminal record and a disastrous haircut.

The days leading up to the beginning of the school year were both too long and not long enough. Too long because there wasn’t a whole lot for Keith to occupy his time with. That was, admittedly, at least a little his own fault, as he spent the vast majority of his time in his room rather than downstairs where things were actually happening.

But it was easier on him this way. The TV in the front room was usually taken, and he didn’t want to interfere with anyone else’s use. Even when it wasn’t, the room was right there adjacent to the stairs and the basement entrance and the front door, all which were constantly trafficked. No way would he be able to relax amidst all that. And there was a family computer in the basement, but it faced outward into the room at large, and Keith hated the feeling of people looking over his shoulder while he was online, no matter how innocuous his browsing may be. Besides, Rachel had brought her trumpet home from summer band on Friday to practice it over the weekend, and the basement was her prefered practice space, so that was.

Tania, after noticing just how much time Keith spent hibernating in his room, had ordered a small used television for it online - despite Keith’s insistence that it wasn’t necessary, and hadn’t she already blown enough money on him over the past few days anyway - but they still had to wait for the delivery.

So the meantime was whiled away by re-reading his books and cautiously trying out the art supplies Tania had bought him for school. He didn’t think much of his artistic abilities, but it was one of the only creative outlets suggested by past therapists and social workers that actually clicked with him. He wouldn’t normally have asked his foster family for supplies, but Altea High required every student to take at least one year of a fine arts elective, so registering for art class had actually been a reason to need them.

The days were not long enough, though, in that, in spite of the way time had dragged, Keith still hadn’t managed to properly make himself feel ready to return to school by the time Monday morning rolled around. He woke early in the morning to a knocking at his door and Manuel’s voice telling him it was time to get up, and went downstairs to an unusually elaborate first-day-of-school breakfast, which Lance and Rachel both ate rather robotically, still adjusting to the waking world after a summer of sleeping in.

He threw on his clothes for the day - some dark gray jeans and a short-sleeved flannel that had formerly been Marco’s and which, to Keith’s surprise, had actually fit him pretty much perfectly, and were in better shape than most of Keith’s own clothes anyhow - and managed to get to the bathroom to finish his morning routine before Lance got to it. He had already managed to learn just how elaborate Lance’s ablutions were, and true to form, he kept Keith and Rachel waiting impatiently downstairs for twenty minutes in order to get his hair and face ‘perfect’. Even though when he finally was satisfied and came to join them, Keith could swear Lance looked exactly the same as he always did.

Rachel led the way out the door, slipping into the driver’s seat of an old scratched-up LeSabre parked at the curb. “You can take shotgun if you want,” she said to Lance as he opened the door of the seat behind her.

“God, no thanks,” Lance said. “I’ve seen you drive. I’m sitting where I’m most likely to survive when you inevitably crash us headlong into the auditorium.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. Keith will sit up front with me, right, Keith?”

“Uh, sure,” Keith said, opening the door and carefully sliding into the seat.

“Do what you want,” Lance said. “But don’t be surprised if you’re the first to go.”

“Shut up, Lance,” Rachel said as she turned the key in the ignition. She shifted the car into drive and started down the road.

“Tell Keith how many tries it took you to pass your driving test.”

“I passed it eventually, it doesn’t matter.”

“Five tries. And on the third try she ran over a - ”

Rachel cut him off by speeding up and then braking hard at the stop sign on the corner, sending Keith lurching forward and Lance’s face knocking into her headrest. “Oops,” she said flatly. “Sorry, Lance, guess I’m just a bad driver.”

“Vete a la mierda,” Lance muttered, rubbing his forehead with a scowl.

“I’m telling Mamá you’re teaching Keith bad words,” said Rachel.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Keith managed to tune them out not long into the drive. He pulled his feet onto the seat and his knees up to his chest, letting all his focus drift to the buildings and trees and street signs they passed as he stared out the car window, trying to familiarize himself with the new surroundings, look out for landmarks that would make the route easier to remember if he needed to walk to or from school any time soon. Occasionally certain foster families of the past would forget to take him to school or pick him up. Or maybe do so intentionally. He could never be certain.

Lance and Rachel managed to keep up their light bickering all the way up until they pulled into the student parking lot, where Rachel had to try twice to park between the lines of her selected parking space, to Lance’s amusement. Despite Lance’s elaborate morning routine, it seemed they had still managed to arrive at school earlier than most, since the majority of the parking spaces were still empty. That was good. Keith still needed to stop by the front office to pick up his finalized schedule, and the last thing he needed was for that to make him late on the first day of school.

He parted ways from the McClains at the entrance, where they set off to their lockers and Keith to the front office. It was fairly crowded when he entered, students and a few parents trying to get some last-minute arrangements made before classes began. Keith hovered near the doorway, not wanting to barge past anyone or draw undue attention to himself by going to the receptionist.

In the midst of debating how he was going to go about asking for his schedule, his thoughts were interrupted by his name being called. The door to the guidance counselor’s office, adjacent to the front office, had been flung open, and Mr. Smythe stood in the entryway, waving him over.

Keith let out a breath and hurried over. Mr. Smythe was a recognizable presence, if a rather overwhelming one. He was a difficult person to forget, between the shock of bright orange hair on his head to the elaborate matching mustache, from his shoulderpadded blazer to his distinct accent. He’d certainly left an impression when Keith and Tania had met with him a few days prior.

“Keith, my boy, good to see you again!” Mr. Smythe said, beckoning him toward the office. “Come in, come in, I was just about to get your schedule printed up for you.” Keith followed him into the little office silently. He wasn’t sure how long this would take, so he opted to keep standing rather than take a seat in one of the chairs along the wall by the door.

“Now,” Mr. Smythe said, plopping himself into his own chair and turning to his computer screen. “I fit you into the art elective you wanted and made room for you in one of the Spanish 1 classes that fit the rest of your schedule. We also managed to get a gym uniform in for you in your size in time for you to be able to participate in your Phys. Ed. class today, so you can let Señora McClain know she needn’t worry about that.”

“Okay,” Keith said.

The printer on Mr. Smythe’s desk whirred as the counselor swiveled his chair to face Keith directly. “Regarding your core classes,” he continued. “For most of them we’ve decided to go ahead and place you in the standard sophomore level courses. I understand that there may be a few concepts from freshman courses that may need to be reviewed for you, but I’ve given your teachers fair warning ahead of time, so they’re aware that you may need a little bit of one-on-one assistance. Don’t be afraid to ask for it. I’ve also gone ahead and gotten you signed up for peer tutoring during your study hall block, so that could be a means to help you catch up.”

“Oh.” Keith’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his gaze. The whole situation was embarrassing, him being as far behind in school as he was. He knew he wasn’t stupid - despite what certain foster family members or classmates had told him in the past - but between constantly switching schools, his discipline record, assignments and books gone missing, the absolute joke of ‘education’ that the juvenile center had stuck him with all through last school year, and a decade of intense stress as the icing on the cake, well… he was probably lucky that his grades weren’t even worse.

“The only class that we couldn’t put you in sophomore level for was your Mathematics requirement,” Mr. Smythe was continuing, and Keith shook himself back into the present. “Seeing as the syllabus is much more linear than your other core classes. We’ve placed you in Algebra 1. However, if you put some elbow grease into your studies, Ms. Ryner has said that she would be happy to work with you to map out an independent study curriculum to get you back on track. If you go that route, you can have Pre-Calculus finished by graduation, same as the majority of your classmates. Of course, only Algebra 2 is a required credit for graduation, but colleges will be looking for - ”

“The regular track is fine, Mr. Smythe,” Keith said, immediately wincing afterward when he realized he had just interrupted.

Mr. Smythe, fortunately, didn’t seem to take offense at the interruption, and instead simply gave him a brief nod before pulling the schedule out of the printer tray and handing it to him. “Well, the option is available all this semester in case you change your mind. We’ll be happy to make accommodations.”

“Thanks,” Keith grunted. He accepted the paper and scanned the schedule.

“And Keith?”

“Mm?”

“That doesn’t just apply to classes.” Keith looked back up from the schedule to find Mr. Smythe’s gaze fixed firmly on him, intense and sincere. “If you are having any difficulties adjusting here, any concerns, or if you just need someone to talk to. My job isn’t just schedule planning and test prep, you know.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Why… are you telling me that?”

Mr. Smythe shrugged. “Thought I’d make the offer. It’s never easy for a new student to transition, and I know you have a bit of a, ah, colorful history in school settings - ”

“Who told you that?” Keith snapped.

“Your transcripts,” Mr. Smythe replied simply.

“... Oh.”

“Of course, it’s entirely up to you if you want to meet with me or not,” Mr. Smythe continued. “Señora McClain did inquire about it, but doesn’t want to force anything. Just be aware, my door is always open.” He leaned back in his chair and swiveled his gaze to his computer. “Feel free to run along, now, Keith. Wouldn’t want to make you late for your first class.”

“Um, right,” Keith said, hesitating only a moment before backing out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

His next stop was his locker, and thankfully he remembered where that was from the school tour he’d been given last week, and it was close, only two halls down from the administrative wing. The hallway was crowded when he got there, and he clung to the straps of his backpack tightly as he wove his way through the mass of students and to his locker.

He hung his backpack onto the hook and grabbed some supplies for his morning classes. Biology was the first listed on the sheet that Mr. Smythe had given him, located in room 224, which was… he wasn’t sure where. It was a lot to remember after only a single tour.

Biting his lip, he looked around the crowd of students. Lockers were grouped by year, so this hallway should be full of sophomores, which hopefully meant that a familiar face was nearby. After a few moments of scanning, he spotted an orange headband poking up from the crowd, taller than most of the other students around, and he set off in that direction. He recognized that headband, he was pretty sure, and the odds of another student in the same school having that same particular taste in hair accessories seemed slim.

Sure enough, the boy with the headband was the same as the one who had been visiting the house the other day, and Lance was with him, chatting idly while leaning up against a nearby locker, the girl who’d been with them there as well, standing with her arms wrapped around a bright green trapper keeper.

The boy - Keith couldn’t quite recall his name; Hank, maybe? - noticed his approach, and greeted him with a smile and a wave, that got the others’ attention and had them turning to him as well. “Hey Keith!” he said brightly.

“Hey...” Keith said in return.

“Hunk,” the boy supplied. Oh, well, he had been close.

“Right.” He cleared his throat and held up his schedule to the others. “Do, um, do you guys know - could one of you show me - um, room 224?”

“Here, lemme see that,” Lance said, snatching the schedule out of Keith’s hand to examine. “Huh, same bio class as me, so you can just follow me there. Same lunch blocks too, looks like. And English, and computer science… and gym…” He raised a brow at Keith. “You stalking me, man? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but - ”

“I’m not stalking you,” Keith said, glaring as he grabbed his schedule back from him. “I didn’t pick the schedule.”

“Relax, I’m joking. Just making sure you’re aware how blessed you are to have me in so many of your classes.”

“I see we’re playing fast and loose with the definition of the word ‘blessed’ this morning,” the girl remarked, and for the life of him Keith couldn’t remember what her name was.

“Pidge here is just jealous of you,” Lance said to Keith. Pidge, then. Keith repeated it in his head a few times to commit it to memory.

“I am jealous of no one,” Pidge said. “I’ve got most of my classes with Hunk, so if anyone should be jealous, it’s you.”

“Aww, Pidge,” Hunk said with a smile. “That’s sweet of you to - wait, what do you want?”

“Your cookie at lunch.”

“No.”

“Then I take back my compliment.”

“All right, well,” Lance straightened up from the row of lockers and stretched. “Come on Keith, I’ll show you where Biology. Let’s give these two some privacy to get their flirt on.”

He made a gesture to follow as he stepped away, as Hunk let out an indignant squawk and Pidge stuck her tongue out at him. Keith hurried to fall into place next to him. “Wait, those two are dating?” he asked.

Lance smirked. “Heh, nah, they just get annoyed when I say they are. So, of course, I say it all the time. Why, you looking to get together with one of them? Because I gotta tell you, I don’t think you’re either of their type - for a number of reasons.”

Keith grimaced and shook his head. “No, I don’t date.”

“Huh,” said Lance. “Guess I’ll have to tell Pidge she was right.”

“What?”

“Here we are,” Lance said, dropping the subject abruptly and gesturing grandly into the doorway of a classroom. “Welcome to the Joy of Biology.”

He moved toward the back to plop into an empty desk, and Keith followed along behind him, staring straight ahead and watching the other students in the corners of his vision. Cautiously he edged toward the desk beside Lance’s. “So, do we just sit anywhere, or - ?”

He paused when he realized that Lance was already striking up a conversation with the occupant of his other desk neighbor, a girl with wire-frame glasses and a thick black ponytail. Deciding not to disturb them, Keith slid silently into the open desk, setting his notebook and folder on the desk’s surface and opting to simply remain quiet until class began.

The teacher, Mrs. Montgomery, arrived right before the bell rang and the students who were still standing as they chatted amongst themselves, presumably catching up after the summer break, hastened into the empty desks that remained. She thankfully didn’t try any sort of first day of school look-what-a-cool-teacher-I-am opening stunt, and instead opened the class fairly dully, dropping a stack of syllabi onto one of the desks in the front row for the students to pass around and returning to the front podium to read out the roll call.

It wasn’t exactly a big social occasion or anything worse being nervous over, but he still rehearsed saying ‘here’ in his head a dozen times over so that he was prepared when she called his name. “Kogane, Keith.”

“Here,” he replied.

He may have messed it up somehow anyway, though, because a kid sitting two desks away jumped in his seat and whipped his head around at the sound of Keith’s voice to look him up and down. He had floppy brown bangs and a sharply angled face, and the moment his gaze met Keith’s, his eyes widened and he quickly turned away again.

Keith narrowed his eyes at the back of the kid’s head. Something about his face struck him as vaguely familiar, just a twinge of recognition in his gut. He wracked his mind, but he couldn’t place it, and he reluctantly let the matter drop from his thoughts when the teacher finished with roll call and started passing out the textbooks.

[uhhhhyandere]

Kinda dark but would yandere light ever fight/kill his kid if he thought they were gonna take his s/o away. Like if his kid grew up and realized how fucked up he is and wanted to save their parent from him would light kill his kid to keep his s/o? I feel like his kid is just as tied up in light’s ego as his s/o so what do he do? Hope that makes sense, love your writing!

okay so the reason i didnt answer this quick is bc ive been thinking about it instead of thinking about linear algebra bc we getting DARK dark

tw: child death mentioned. this gets pretty dark.

so lets have another thinking session

so here we are you’re married with a kiddo making pancakes and packing lunches all fake happy bc you don’t want to fuck the kid up with how fucked the situation is but as he/she/they grow up, the child realizes yeah things are fucked up

IF we’re presuming we’re in a universe where Light succeeded (god bless), that is, but did not come out as Kira. (bc there are a million diff scenarios. whether it be DN canon timeline, orphic timeline, out as kira, not out as kira, after DN timeline if he won, etc. if ya want any of those just ask a sis) so your kid is all old or at least old enough to be independent enough to do his investigation into your loving significant other, right under Light’s nose

or so he/she/they thinks. 

Light is ever the careful man, never letting any strings get loose, even if it is his own offspring/adopted child. He’s going to notice. even if your kid did possess light’s confidence and intelligence, he/she/they is not as cruel or as cunning if he/she/they are caring enough to try and get u out of there (unless they a little yandere too oops but we gonna presume he/she/they doing it bc your kid is a decent human being) but light is and last time he checked he’s in “love” (lights very concept of love intrigues me someone ask me about that ill pop off) with you and hes a lil yandere for you and he’s not going to even risk losing you to his OWN kid

think of his pride, first and foremost. can u imagine he busts a nut in you/you choose this fucker and adopt this kid and the kid tries to take you away?? the kid HE had/brought in?? yeah nO. its not gonna happen. he’s not going to let it happen. like ive mentioned, he’s very focused on you seeing him and him only. his needs. his wants. it was nice to see you with a baby at first, feeling like this would seal the bond he so desperately wants you to form, but now this kid is really fucking things up for himself.

i think light would treat he/she/they just like any other nemesis who stood in his way, and yes, that includes ending the poor soul’s life (as terrible and disgusting as it sounds, thus is the reality im creating) it wouldn’t be so obvious, of course. the kid was never subtle to you about his/hers/their abhorrence towards their father. the stress. i mean, despite your best efforts to give this kid a good childhood, you cannot hide reality. the strain. the twisted nature of it all. it’s too much. 

it’s all too easy for light give him/her/them the same fate as naomi misora. 

yes, you’d be broken. destroyed. fundamentally torn apart by seeing the one you watched, helped, grow up in a casket. he knows this. he’s factored it in, but you’re in this situation in the first place. you’ve been broken before and mended back together. you can do it again. because now all you have left is him. whether you choose to accept the cold love, chilling you to your beating heart, or rejecting it, but you’ll eventually come around, you have to. he wont let you leave and see someone else about this. all you need is him, your husband, your god

and you can always make another kid, anyway

[morqana-pendragon]

.

[cosleia]

Would Homecoming King Hux be considered a prompt?

It would indeed! While I didn’t actually get too far into that idea, it sparked this whole update. So, thank you!

1785 words, benarmie, college au. Takes place after this ficlet.

Armitage woke up the morning after Archie’s prank with a sick feeling in his stomach.

He’d lost control. He’d revealed too much. Everyone knew his weakness.

Rush Week was supposed to have been the easy part. Armitage should have been accepted into his father’s frat with no fuss. It was barely an afterthought in the grand design for Armitage’s university career, and yet it had nearly ruined him. Or perhaps it had ruined him---he wouldn’t know if he was in or not until the week was over.

He was supposed to be working on becoming Homecoming King now, not fretting about something that should have been a given.

Armitage threw back the covers and swung his legs out of bed, resting his forearms on his knees and his head in his hands. He’d been utterly, thoroughly shamed, and then…

Heat blazed in his cheeks as he thought back to the next part, the part where Ben Solo had scooped him up as if he were a damsel in distress and carried him away. The part where Ben had seemed to think Armitage wasn’t interested in him. The part where Armitage had, instead of doing the smart thing and letting Ben’s misconception stand, kissed him.

It had been good. Really good. It---well, there was no point dwelling on it, because it could never happen again.

They’d kissed, and Ben had walked Armitage back to his dorm, and they’d kissed again, and Ben had left, and Armitage had gone to bed wrapped up in Ben’s enormous hoodie. He was still wearing it, he realized, and under it he was still wearing red lace.

Armitage closed his eyes.

Ben had said Armitage was “hot.” That was really all he’d said.

That was probably all Ben liked about him.

If only the reverse were true. Armitage scowled. If all he wanted out of Ben was sex, they could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Unfortunately, Armitage wanted a lot more from Ben than sex.

Groaning, Armitage fell back across his narrow bed and flung an arm over his eyes. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by something so ridiculous as unrequited love. He had a plan. He had to see it to fruition.

He could certainly have sex with Ben. But that’s all it would be. It would be good in the short run, but in the long run it would be a stumbling block. It would divert him from his goals. He’d waste valuable time and energy wishing for more.

That settled it. It would be best if he never had anything to do with Ben again.

~

Armitage’s resolve lasted through his shower, his linear algebra homework, lunch at the student center, that afternoon’s American Society of Mechanical Engineers meeting, and his walk down to the communal laundry room with a basket full of clothes (Ben’s hoodie mixed in out of sight). But as soon as he swiped his student ID and bumped the door open with his hip, it all went out the window.

“Armitage!” Ben said, and it was a miracle that Armitage didn’t drop the basket.

Ben was sitting on top of a washing machine, long legs dangling, a Nintendo DS forgotten in his hands. A broad smile stretched across his face, dimpling his cheeks in a way that made Armitage feel as though the atoms making up his insides had rearranged themselves into goo.

“H--hello, Ben,” Armitage managed to say.

Ben jumped down off the washer, tossed his DS to the side, and loped forward in three comfortable yet huge strides. “Laundry day, huh?” he said. The amber cast of his brown eyes was especially prominent in the light of the setting sun as it slanted in through the half-open blinds. “Me too.”

“Ah. Yes,” Armitage said.

Ben grabbed the basket out of Armitage’s hands. “Come use the washer next to mine,” he said. He made it a half-step away before he stopped and turned back around. “I mean. If you want to.”

Now was the time to be cruel. Now was the time to tell him No, Ben, I don’t want to use the washer next to yours. I don’t ever want to see you again at all.

“Okay,” Armitage said.

Ben beamed at him, and what had been goo a moment ago was suddenly a million hummingbirds, wings beating so hard Armitage thought they would lift him off the grubby tile floor. His hands tangled together in front of him as Ben spun back around and tromped forward to deposit the basket atop the empty washer next to the one he’d been sitting on.

Armitage forced himself to follow, joining Ben at the washer and immediately opening it. He was here to do his laundry, after all; he would do his laundry. Armitage grabbed an armful of clothes from his basket, bent at the waist to shove the pile inside, straightened and reached out for more---but then Ben said, “Hey, wait,” and his hand made it into the basket first. “Is this my hoodie?”

“Er. Yes,” Armitage said. “I was going to wash it and return it to you---”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ben said quickly, tugging the hoodie free. “Wash it, I mean. I’ll just take it now.” Before Armitage could respond, Ben pulled the hoodie on over his head.

The skin of Armitage’s face, neck, and arms tingled with electric fire. He’d slept in that. It was all rumpled from his bed. It had smelled like Ben last night, but now it probably smelled like Armitage. And Ben was wearing it.

It was almost overwhelmingly intimate. Especially when Ben flipped the hood up and nuzzled his beautiful, distinctive nose into the fabric.

Armitage forced himself to look away, attempted to focus on putting the rest of his laundry into the washer.

“So,” Ben said after a moment, his voice softer than before. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Armitage said automatically, closing the washer with a definitive slam. He pulled out the dispenser drawer and measured out detergent and fabric softener without looking up.

“Good! Good,” Ben said. “I mean. Yesterday was. Um.”

Not looking at Ben was helping Armitage settle a little. His heart was now beating out slow, dull thuds in his chest rather than a sharp staccato. He decided to try for a wry joke: “Well, it wasn’t the best, was it?”

Ben paused, then said, “Oh.”

“But thank you,” Armitage added. He slid the drawer back in and began loading up the machine with quarters.

“You’re welcome,” Ben said, but he sounded sullen.

Armitage finished feeding quarters into the machine and turned it on. He risked a glance at Ben just as Ben turned and shoved himself back up onto his own washing machine. He didn’t jump; he didn’t use his legs at all, he just levered himself up with his arms. This feat caused Ben’s biceps to stand out rather spectacularly beneath the hoodie, and Armitage quickly looked away again.

This was a mistake. He should have turned and left the moment he saw Ben. Now here he was, stuck with him for the next two hours while his laundry washed and then dried. What if something else happened? What if Ben tried something? What if Armitage tried something?

He glanced at Ben again to find him engrossed in his DS, dark curls falling around his face, eyes hidden. Armitage drew a long breath and let it out as quietly as he could. Then he hopped up onto his own washer and pulled out his phone.

Maybe it would be fine. Maybe they would just do their own thing until the laundry was done, then go their separate ways, and Armitage wouldn’t have to think about how much he wanted to---

“What was bad about it?” Ben asked abruptly. “What did I do wrong?”

Armitage looked up, wondering if he’d missed something. Surely he wasn’t still talking about yesterday. That hadn’t been his fault. “What?”

“Like.” Ben’s eyes were intent and almost teary, and when he sucked his lower lip into his mouth to wet it with his tongue, Armitage was mesmerized. Shit. “Was it gross?” Ben said, and it was nearly a plea. “I’ve only ever---” His eyes cut away. “I’ve only ever kissed one other person, but I can get better if I practice, I---”

“Ben,” Armitage breathed, because he hadn’t been talking about the hazing at all. Armitage’s chest felt tight.

It was another perfect opportunity, he could reject him right now---

Armitage practically dove over the coin drop of Ben’s machine, one hand coming up to fist in the front of Ben’s hoodie and the other going to the back of his neck as he yanked him into a kiss.

Ben let out a surprised noise that almost sounded like a sob. Armitage cursed himself and fought to explain between kisses and gasps for breath. “It was---fucking---fantastic, Ben,” he panted, and Ben groaned and Armitage felt it all the way down to his cock. “Fuck---I thought---you meant---the---”

“Shit,” Ben huffed into his mouth, “I’m sorry---I wasn’t even---thinking---”

“Shut up,” Armitage demanded, and then he climbed the rest of the way over the coin drop and into Ben’s lap. Ben’s hands settled at his waist, huge and warm, and they felt so good. Armitage let go of Ben’s hoodie and pressed closer, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his neck, pulling them together as flush as possible.

What was he doing---this was what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do---Ben didn’t care about him that way, he just---like everyone else---

Armitage was suddenly shaking. His eyes burned, and when he sucked in a breath it shuddered wetly. Ben broke the kiss and drew his head back to look at him. Then Ben flung his arms tightly around Armitage and pulled his head to his shoulder, stroking his hair over and over. “No, Armitage, I’m sorry, you don’t have to,” he whispered. “You don’t owe me anything, Armitage, I’m sorry.”

At these words Armitage could no longer hold back his tears, and they poured traitorous and hot down his cheeks. He didn’t know why he was crying. Weak. Foolish.

“It was supposed to be easy,” he said stupidly. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be easy.” His voice was quavery and broken and he hated himself.

“It’s okay,” Ben murmured into his ear, still petting Armitage’s hair. “It’s over now. You don’t have to do anything.”

Ben was wrong, of course. But Ben was also holding him, and not asking him for anything. Armitage trembled, and buried his face in Ben’s neck, and decided it was all right, just this once, to let himself cry.

[dannidixon-harkness]

Hi I haven’t posted anything in a while so I’m gonna do it now. Beware this is going to be a long bitch.

I am also kinda drunk due to the 2/3 bottle of wine and can of hard cider I finished earlier. And I don’t feel good but that could be because I’ve had more dairy today then I should’ve and I’m lactose intolerant.

Anywho down to the good shit.

I am an anxiety ridden depressed overachieving college student working on her third degree. Should I be on meds for that. Hell yes. But I’m not. Because of reasons.

I also know that we are in uncertain times and having an rough adjustment period from in class lessons to online, and that everyone is having a hard time during this.

HOWEVER.

I have this one professor. I have had issues with this man all semester. Something goes wrong? Not his fault. The entire class does bad on a quiz or test? Not his fault. The online conference won’t connect? Not my fault and no, I don’t have a back up in place like zoom to use just in case.

(Please note my sarcasm)

Anywhose, last night I had it. Not only does he have the habit of emailing us important shit just after midnight, he can’t keeep his shit straight anymore. When is the homework due? I don’t fucking know and neither does anyone else. Where is the lecture recording he did because he couldn’t connect the conference? I don’t fucking know either but it ain’t in the announcements where he said it was.

Side note: my momma raised a nice polite southern girl. I say “Yes ma’am” and “No sir” when I really want to say fuck you and no dude. One might even call me a ducking push over from how I act, even a suck up and tucking teachers pet. I. Am. Ducking. Polite. See even autocorrect helps me be polite.

Back to the story. He sends these confusing ass emails about the homework with conflicting due times in them. I don’t get them until like 10 am because I slept in, fuck that shit it was Saturday. And I was done. I went and ranted to the fam, and decided: this was it, this was the day I email him and tell him the truth. While being polite of course.

In the following 1000 plus word essay I wrote I dropped the word hell once and maybe a damn? Definitely mentioned “only you and God knows when” at one point. There might have been bullet points. Some underlining, bolding, and italicization of words and sentences. Maybe even all at once to emphasize a word. I told him what major problems there were and some solutions he could do. I told him his flaws, and how he made me feel. I wanted to cuss this man out so bad I almost used fuck at one point, but the little polite southerner in me wouldn’t let me.

But Goddamit I was fucking polite.

His response e-mail? This bitch called me impolite. And that he disagreed with most of the criticism I wrote. And that he would like to discuss this over a conference call later today.

One: just writing the first email put me in tears, made me dissociate, and tune out from everything and make fucking sun catchers for fours straight.

Two: his response email? Destroyed me. I have never. NEVER. Been called impolite in my 23 years on this fucking planet. I literally bawled, full nine yards, to my mother while she critiqued my first email to see if I was too harsh in what I said. It made me sick to my stomach. I know I’m already fucking failing this mans class, now what is he going to do to me? It was this fear that kept my mouth shut until this moment. I need this class for my upper level physics classes I need next semester! (Side note again: the class in question is Differential Equations and Linear Algebra, and my third degree is in Physics.) ((here is his response actually, duck it I’m posting it))

He can’t teach. I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt because this was the first time he taught this class but not at the sake of my passing this class and my gpa. And he won’t admit to doing anything Wrong, it has to be someone else’s fault this didn’t work out. Was I polite? Fuck yea I was, if he thought that wasn’t polite I should have gone off on him. Could I have been nicer? Yes. Maybe I should have dropped a nice “oh bless your heart”’for trying your best in these trying times. But damn son you are literally the youngest professor I have this semester and you are having the hardest time adjusting to online teaching. JFC.

Now I’m trying to schedule this damn meeting with him to talk this out. I’m thinking of dropping. I’ve brought up some of my issues with the math department, and told this new addition of this saga to my advisor (she knows I’ve been having issues with him).

I have the damn class on my side (as well as anime and God) since they agree with me. They are praying for me as well since I told them I snapped at him. One positive thing is now he figured out how to publish shit on Canvas... after I told him how in my long email. Now he just needs to create the fuckingn homework turn in or he is getting 60 fucking emails on Tuesday with our homework attached.

Also I found out that I shouldn’t drink as much as I did after a huge crying jag. I was only able to be in nice drunk land for the entirety of Knives Out (good movie I recommend it) before the hangover headache kicked in. My eyeballs have felt like sandpaper the entire time I’ve typed this up. Fuck me. If I remember I’ll take picture of the sun catchers I made and post them tomorrow.