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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

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Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 02

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future angst, future smut

; Word Count: 6.5k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: After almost three months of no writing...I finished this chapter :) I hope you enjoy...please leave me feedback in the form of comments or an ask. The long break has made me worry about a bit about whether people will even read my stuff anymore lol

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The next two months pass by with only a few growing pains in terms of teaching. You’d discovered pretty quickly that a group of twenty students could easily turn into pure and utter chaos. Particularly when one of them accidentally turns another into a turnip.

That had not been the best first-week experience if you were being honest.

There had been a few minutes when you’d been convinced

But you were certainly getting used to everything. It was odd being on the other side now, being the one who commanded attention from the students. You had an almost desperate need to be liked by them at first, but the other professors had quickly dissuaded you from that. They were not your friends, and you’d learnt that if you gave them an inch then they’d take a mile.

It had been pleasant though, and you were certainly enjoying everything. There was nothing better than the smile on a student’s face when they got a spell right, with the knowledge that you’d been the one to teach them that.

The comments you’d been told on your first note about the house stereotypes had also proven to be true. You’d never seen so many Slytherin’s chatting happily with Gryffindor’s and so forth. Whole friendship groups were made up of varying houses and none appeared to be left out. Nor had you seen any house related bullying as there had been in your day.

Once typical insults of a Slytherin being home to a Death Eater had vanished for the most part. The one time you had seen it, hurled by a Hufflepuff of all things, had resulted in complete outrage amongst all the students. It had warmed your heart to see the younger generations working in far better harmony than yours or your previous generations ever had.

Chaeyoung had become the equivalent of your work best friend, bringing her marking over to your office and spending time chatting happily with you. Seokjin had also become a close friend or at least as close as someone could get in only two months. The two of them were fascinating, coming from vastly different lifestyles.

Her family were practically magical royalty in France, though she’d moved to the UK whilst only a child to live with her grandparents after the deaths of her parents. As such, she’d ended up attending Hogwarts and had been in the year below Hoseok. Despite her initial French upbringing, she had no hint of an accent though she’d spouted fluent French to you when you’d queried her language abilities.

She also spoke Spanish, which had led to her initially getting a job as a translator at a magical exporting company. It had amused you thoroughly that it had been based in Devon, along the southern coast of England with France just over the narrow Channel Sea. Chaeyoung had laughed at the time, acknowledging that the mild weather was much nicer than the temperamental mistress you had to contend with here in northern Scotland.

It hadn’t proven to her liking though, and she’d soon ended up applying for the vacant History of Magic position. She’d been quick to explain that she’d taken up an extra qualification in her chosen area and that she wasn’t just randomly picked. You knew from Jisoo that muggles had a different way to education, but there were no real universities here in the wizarding world.

Chaeyoung studied hard enough and was very knowledgeable about her chosen area, so you didn’t see too much issue regarding it. And she was a popular teacher, helping to turn a subject that many would often find dull into something fun and interesting.

Seokjin, on the other hand, was older than you. He was 36, with a wife of ten years and two young sons. He’d trained in astronomy in the Ministry and had brought his skills to Hogwarts three years ago. You’d ended up bonding together over your dual experiences in the Ministry; both lamenting over the different departments and positions you’d had yet the same bureaucratic headaches.

He was a joyful sort with a smile always on his face for you and his students along with a genuine passion for the stars and the universe. You knew that he made it a goal to read much of what the muggles were doing, his fascination with the fact that they’d been to space bordering on an almost obsession.

It was no surprise to you that these have been the two that you had ended up so close with. Both had the experience of working outside of Hogwarts and that seemed to make you all different from the other professors. Everyone else had interned here immediately after finishing before taking on their chosen role.

Jimin came from a long line of auror wizards and witches that stretched back centuries. This meant that he had extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts inherited from their wise teachings. His mother and father still worked in the Ministry, which meant that he’d slipped into the Defence Against the Dark Arts position with ease.

Which was a good thing as it had remained an awkward position after the Second Wizarding War. It was a role that was often hard to fill as some many witches and wizards felt that it would be best to ignore that the Dark Arts even existed. If no one knew about the Dark Arts, and all the horrific violence and devastation that had occurred with them, then there wouldn’t be any need to defend it.

That was, of course, a most ridiculous idea and Hogwarts had firmly resisted any such attempts to whitewash both the history and the concept of the Dark Arts. By not acknowledging what happened, and teaching to both understand why it happened alongside how to protect against it, then it would just happen again.

But it remained an exceptionally unpopular position due to the intimate knowledge of the Dark Arts required. To know how best to protect against the Dark spells, you had to know what the Dark spells were.

You had experienced at least three professors during your tenure as a student.

That had all changed five years ago though when Park Jimin had finally taken over when his predecessor had packed it all in to go and study the famous dragons in Romania. The handsome silver-haired professor was young, but he had won over the staff of the prestigious school with his astonishingly good spellwork.

The fact that he had also made short work of their hearts was because he was also incredibly good looking, much to his benefit when it came to dating you were sure.

Jimin wasn’t just a pretty face though; he was the best dueller in the school. From what you’d been told, he had yet to be bested. Which honestly, was to be expected from someone with such a prestigious bloodline as his.

But not only that, he’d proven to be sweet and kind to his students with a backbone of steel as well. While there may be no true bad blood between houses now, Slytherin still garnered an air of suspicion from other houses even to this day.

Given the preponderance of dark witches and wizards that the house had produced over the years, it was a well-earnt suspicion, unfortunately. Still, you didn’t believe that the bad decisions and choices made by people long ago should have any bearing on your current students; all of them born long after those terrible events.

Jimin had proven to be an excellent example of why you should never stereotype people based on what others had done. In your opinion, he was an exceptional teacher and had taken on the helm of the Defence Against the Dark Arts role with the clear mindset of not only helping to protect his students but also to try and prevent them from making poor choices.

It was a tough subject to teach as it meant constantly walking a narrow line while also steering students true through narrow and murky waters. There were plenty of students who might find themselves a little too fascinated in the concept of the Dark Arts, after all.

According to Chaeyoung, Jimin tried to combat this by making sure to teach them about the history of the Dark Arts. From what you understood, he held no punches in making sure they all knew the horrific acts of murder and sacrifice that had been committed to preventing students from romanticising a dark part of wizarding history.

Not only that, but he made sure to teach about the most infamous dark wizards in history; the Death Eaters and Voldemort. This was all to ensure that they did not repeat the mistakes of the past. He took his role seriously, whether it was through spellwork or simply enriching the minds.

Despite his relative youth, you’d come to know him as passionate and hard-working with a true love for his students. Whether they be in Slytherin or Gryffindor. It was just one of the many things that you had come to grow to love about Hogwarts in your short time here so far, the way the school had adapted and grown so quickly.

Hogwarts was a castle that had been built from stone carved centuries ago and housed ancient treasures of the wizarding world, but the Battle of Hogwarts had been a turning point for many. No longer did it constantly look at the past with pure pride, and to many - ignorance, but instead looked to the future as well.

It sought to teach well-rounded wizards and witches that would enrich the community. Which meant it had attempted to modernise itself as much as it could. Of course, it didn’t match the sparkling modernity of steel and technology that the muggle world had developed over the last two centuries but it was improving itself and working to develop new magics that would mirror some of the advancements that the muggles had made.

Perhaps the only thing you’d found a little awkward to embrace was teaching itself. You’d been eager to begin but had quickly realised that teaching was much more complicated than you’d imagined. For all of the good things that Hogwarts was doing lately, it seemed odd to you that they didn’t even bother teaching their professors to teach.

A few discussions with some of the others had revealed that they also had this issue when they’d started. It seemed to have been easier for those who hadn’t spent too much time away from the school after they’d graduated but it had been a long time since you’d been schooled here. Teaching methods had changed and you’d struggled to maintain a healthy balance of actually teaching, answering questions to help students, having open hours to encourage students who were struggling to have extra tuition and finding time to mark the essays that you handed out.

In short, it had been a very steep learning curve for yourself. Thankfully, your students had given you the benefit of the doubt, which meant they’d been very accepting of any mistakes you’d made. You’d also worked with the other professors to establish a good teaching plan for each of your lessons while also cross-referencing to ensure students weren’t loaded with too much homework.

It was more work than you’d expected, which made you understand how naive you’d been. But you found it to be satisfying work and the reward of seeing students learn and retain their knowledge throughout their lessons was better than anything you’d done in your previous job. And that was to say nothing about the pure wonder and joy on the faces of the first-year students when you had begun their education.

Underlying all of your experiences so far though was one Jung Hoseok. Whilst you’d become quick friends with Seokjin and Chaeyoung, Hoseok was a strange enigma to you. He was friendly and always willing to help you whenever you got confused over something or were feeling a little stressed.

His job as the Care of Magical Creatures professor meant that you rarely saw him during school hours. A large portion of his time was spent outside in the Forbidden Forest or in the custom-built buildings that housed many of the fantastical creatures that he cared for. You knew that he did have a classroom though. It wasn’t anywhere near yours but it held a lot of the smaller creatures that didn’t do so well in the Scottish climate.

Hoseok’s commitment to his job was commendable as he often spent a lot of hours outside. Which meant that as the months slowly shifted to winter, he was finding himself in the cold and rain a lot more often than not.

More than once, you’d spotted him outside when peeking through one of your classroom windows and noted him completely drenched as the rain poured down. It made you cringe each time you saw it, knowing that his robes would be heavy with water. But he never complained about it, even though he was the only professor who also had to work on the weekends.

On top of that, he was also busy with being the Head of Hufflepuff. From what you understood from your talks with Jimin, it meant always being available outside of learning hours for his House students. Whether they wanted to talk about a problem they had or simply needed advice, he was there to help them with whatever they needed.

It also meant that he had to attend every Quidditch game, and you wondered how he managed to cope with such a full schedule. You felt exhausted after a week of just your normal work but knowing how much extra he put in was mind-blowing.

Despite this though, you’d noticed over time that Hoseok always made sure to be present for every meal in the Great Hall. And much like the first meal you’d shared at the top table, he always sat next to you. You hadn’t thought anything of it until Seokjin had casually mentioned one day while you’d been at Hogsmeade with him and Chaeyoung that he’d never sat in that place before.

His old spot was actually on the other side of the table, next to Taehyung and Jimin. Seokjin hadn’t even thought anything of his comment but it had caused you to pause, wondering why Hoseok had felt the need to change his position. At the time, you’d simply shrugged and pointed out that you’d known him when he was younger and that his sister was your best friend.

It only made sense that he wanted to be there to help you out and make sure you were okay.

But that excuse started to falter when you thought about the fact that he never mentioned Jisoo to you. Hoseok didn’t mention anything of the past that you both shared. Instead, he would talk about Hogwarts now and your jobs or ask about what life was like at the Ministry when you’d been there. Those topics often led off onto little tangents and you’d both find yourselves chattering away with each other as the meals went on.

The others would get involved too when they could, but there was something...singular about Hoseok’s focus. And that was to say nothing of how he always made sure to walk you back to your quarters after dinner. There was never much talk that happened then, instead, the two of you simply enjoyed the architecture and decoration of Hogwarts as you found different ways to get back, the company exquisite in its silence.

A comfortable silence that you hadn’t found with many other people.

Chaeyoung was convinced that Hoseok liked you. You’d tried to debunk that theory by pointing out that he’d fancied you when he was younger and it was probably just the allure of an older girl who was more accessible to him than others. You were always around given your friendship with his sister and he’d probably just transferred his teenage hormones onto you at the time.

If anything, he was probably embarrassed about how obvious he was back then. Poor Hoseok had never been subtle in anything.

Despite your defence, Chaeyoung had simply given you a look that you hadn’t been able to interpret. Nor did you understand the subtle glances and smirks that she exchanged with Seokjin whenever Hoseok sat next to you at the dining table. It was like there was a silent conversation happening between the two of them about you, only you weren’t included in it.

Thankfully, you weren’t the type of person to be too influenced by other’s thoughts and opinions. So you didn’t let Chaeyoung’s opinion on the subject impact upon your burgeoning friendship with Hoseok. So even though there was a voice in the back of your mind telling you that there was something more, you ignored it and chose not to ruin the fledgeling friendship you had.

You’d felt a sense of relief though that Chaeyoung had been too busy with marking papers to attend dinner last night, which meant that she hadn’t been able to overhear your conversation with Hoseok last night. The two of you had been discussing his lesson plans for the next few weeks and what creatures his students were going to be studying.

He’d suddenly gotten an odd look on his face before grinning. If there was one thing you had learnt upon being back at Hogwarts, it was that Hoseok’s smile was perhaps one of the prettiest things you’d ever seen. Which was why you’d smiled back at him immediately, even though you had no idea what he was so happy about.

But he hadn’t made you wait and had instead asked if you were tonight. You’d acknowledged it and confusion had been written all over your face but he’d just given an enigmatic shrug. All he’d said after that was to meet him at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest an hour after dinner.

Which was why you were now standing in the dark. Your robes were wrapped tightly around you but it did nothing to stop the way you shivered, jaw tight as a cold wind rushed through the trunks of the trees before you. Part of you wanted to run back to the castle if only to grab your winter coat, but you didn’t want to look like you’d stood Hoseok up.

Though you did wish he’d turn up quicker rather than later.

Huddling under your cloak more, you clasped the edges together with your hands and pushed it up to cover your mouth and nose. It didn’t do a whole lot against the cold, but it was better than being exposed to it. Even though the wind wasn’t strong, it was still enough to cause your robes to flap, the sound loud against the quiet of the grounds.

The only other sound right now was the wind as it howled through the Forbidden Forest, making the already dark and ominous area look even scarier. Even though you were now an adult, there was an underlying fear of the forest before you. Perhaps it was because it had been firmly ingrained in you as a student that this area was off-limits or something.

Still, you wouldn’t want to go walking around in it on your own anytime soon.

The sight of the trees suddenly moving ahead of you made you gasp quietly, body freezing in position as you squinted to try and see what it had been. You knew that the forest was full of many magical creatures; not all of them gentle and kind.

Swallowing hard, you stayed in place to try and avoid attention, gaze skittering around as you tried to find that shape once more. A branch cracking caused you to flinch, your hands tightening into fists around the material of your cloak and you had to clench your jaw to stop any noise from escaping.

The black shape formed once more ahead of you and you almost shrieked in fright, getting ready to run away until you saw a sudden flash of brighter colour. Frowning, you let your hands unclasp themselves until you realised it was a yellow scarf and realisation flooded through your body.

“Bloody hell!” You cursed, the syllables being spat with indignation. Hoseok looked up in surprise, his own eyes widening in surprise before concern etched itself onto his face when he saw the dual outrage and fear on you. Striding forward, you met him just as he was about to cross over the boundary of the trees onto the grounds of the castle and poked at this chest, a scowl on your face.

“You didn’t think to warn me you were going to be coming from the forest! Merlin’s beard, I almost ran away because I was afraid it was something that was going to hurt me.” Hissing at him, you realised belatedly that you had to look up to him to do this. Damn him and his growth spurt.

Still, he at least had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Sorry, I didn’t think it might seem a little scary. I was just coming back from checking on the centaurs; I haven’t been able to meet them in a while and wanted to see if they were okay.” His explanation was logical but it still made you scowl.

“Why aren’t you carrying a light or something?! Do you always just gallivant around the Forbidden Forest in the dark? Aren’t there dangerous things here?” You pepper him with the questions quickly, each one causing his brow to rise higher incrementally. It’s a good job that it’s dark because you don’t notice the way the corner of his lips quirks up in amusement at your tirade.

“I don’t use one in there, not normally. I know my way around very well. I have worked in this forest for years now. But I do have lanterns dotted around in case I need one and I can always use a lumos spell, like now. I figured you wouldn’t want to journey in the dark.” At that, he pulls his wand out of a pocket in his robes and mutters the spell, the tip lighting up with bright white.

Narrowing your eyes at the sudden influx of light, you’re momentarily startled by just how handsome Hoseok looks in the light. It casts an almost blue glow to him, his normally sun-kissed skin looking paler than you’ve ever seen it before. The shadows on his face only serve to highlight the sharp angles of his features while his eyes almost glitter.

It’s only then that you realise you’re staring, quickly averting your gaze away and focusing them on your hands instead. At that moment, another harsh wind blows through and you shiver in response, your shoulders lifting as you try to curl in on yourself.

Gripping your cloak once more, you’re too distracted to notice what Hoseok is doing. The only sign is the light going a little wonky for a few moments before you’re startled by the sudden feeling of softness on your neck.

Letting out a small ‘eep’ of surprise, you jerk away only to see Hoseok staring at you with wide eyes, his scarf no longer wrapped around his neck and instead being held out to you. The Hufflepuff colours look washed out in the odd light and you pause, giving him a confused look as you glance between the scarf and him.

Brows raised, he lifts the item before giving you a slow smile. “You’re cold. You can wear this if you want. It’s not as chilly in the forest but I don’t want you to get poorly because of it. I should have warned you, sorry.”

It seems like all he’s done is apologise so far and it makes you feel bad, causing you to nod your head and take the scarf from him. Wrapping it around your neck, you immediately feel a little warmer and you can’t help but take a deep inhale of the scent woven into the soft fibres. It’s a more concentrated form of what you get to smell every meal time; citrus and something with a slight hint of spice.

For a second, you wonder if it’s a cologne it’s bought himself or if perhaps it’s something a woman bought for him. It suits him, either way.

“Are you ready? You don’t have to come if you’re feeling uncomfortable or anything…” Hoseok trails off, biting his lip in an almost nervous way that makes you feel a little odd. Pushing the thought away, you hum and glance behind him into the forest. Your curiosity was too much and so you nodded firmly, giving him a gentle smile before gesturing for him to start walking.

Without another word, he turns around and begins to walk once more. You notice casually that he’s following a path cut into the forest, the ground level and even compared to the wildness all around you. Alongside the sound of your boots on the dirt, you realise that there are a few other noises all around you.

The gentle hoot of an owl is overwhelmed by a shriek far away, causing a chill to run up your spine. Shuffling forward a little quicker, you almost reach out to Hoseok as a tinge of fear takes over. As if he can tell, he turns around and gives you a concerned look.

“What was that?” Whispering, you glance around and wonder if you should talk loudly. Hoseok looks in the same direction as you do before shrugging slightly.

“Could be anything. This forest is full of creatures, both magical and mundane. Might be a bat or could be something else. Don’t worry though, there’s not usually anything dangerous around this part of the forest. It’s too close to the edge and the creatures that can do the most harm prefer to remain deep within the forest.” It’s almost casual the way he slows to walk alongside you, giving you the safety of his presence but you notice it all the same.

Not that you comment on it, of course. But you appreciate it nonetheless.

Giving him a noncommittal sound, you continue until he takes a sudden turn off the path. The forest floor is dense with foliage and tree roots, causing you to trip a few times. Hoseok helps you along, reaching you to hold your arm to keep you upright when you trip over one too many roots and you get the sense he’s enjoying this.

Maybe it’s because he lets out a soft chuckle when you swear loudly, scowling down at the deeply embedded rock that you’d accidentally kicked. Despite the fact your best friend’s little brother is leading you deep into a scary, dark forest, you don’t feel any concern about him. What could be in the forest, sure, but not him.

He gives off a sense of security that surprises you. All those years ago, Hoseok had been the perfect example of an annoying little brother to Jisoo. Always irritating her and doing things with the sole purpose of being a pain, which in turn meant doing those things to you as well. But now he seemed dependable and you got the sense that you’d want him with you if anything bad happened.

“Okay, we’re almost there. Now, I need you to stay very calm and don’t make any large or sudden movements. You might scare her.” Staring at him in alarm, you suddenly realise that you’ve not even questioned what he’s wanting to show you. Not that he’d have told you, you’re positive of that, but his instructions make you feel a little uneasy.

Upon seeing your face in the light of his wand, he gives a small smile and rests his hand on your arm reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, I promise, you’re going to like this. You’ll understand what I mean.” Frowning at him, you watch as he starts forward once more and realise he’s heading into a little clearing. Sighing deeply, you realise that you don’t want to stand there on your own so you follow him slowly, almost hesitant to see whatever he’s bringing you to.

You swear, if it’s one of those obscenely large spiders that’s supposed to live in this forest then you’re going to jinx him with something he’ll still be suffering from in a year.

The clearing is small and almost circular, though the position of some trees makes it seem a little broken in places. Long grass that is almost bouncy cushions your feet and you wonder if flowers would grow in the daylight, the canopy of trees above broken and allowing more sky through than elsewhere.

During the day it would get a lot of sunlight, but at the moment you couldn’t help staring in awe at the moon as it glowed brightly, it’s full body visible against the black of the sky. A few stars twinkled serenely alongside it, looking peaceful and creating a beautiful image.

A pale, ghostly colour catches your attention from the corner of your eye and you find yourself pressing to Hoseok a little closer. His back is strong and solid against your hands as you tense in concern, peeking around him to try and catch what it was.

What you see causes you to gasp out loud, letting go of Hoseok’s robes abruptly as you take a wide step away from him to get a better view.

Long, sinewy legs move through the forest in an almost dainty manner, picking their way through the undergrowth with care and precision. There’s almost no sound as the creature moves towards the clearing, only the softest rustle of leaves that can’t be avoided. It’s fascinating how quietly it can move given its size and you wonder if it’s some magical ability that allows that.

Within moments, the shape coalesces into a clearer image as it passes through the edge of the trees on the other side of the clearing. A silver coat practically glows under the moonlight, giving the creature an ethereal feel that makes you feel that it’s not even real. That you’re just seeing an apparition instead of a real animal.

The horn on its head is long and spiralling, ending in a deadly point while the pale white mane and tail flow in elegant waves towards the ground. Golden hooves paw softly at the grass, glinting slightly.

A unicorn.

“Merlin’s beard…” You whisper, pressing a hand to your mouth before looking at Hoseok. “A unicorn...that’s a unicorn!”

They were rare creatures, even rarer now due to being hunted over the centuries by both muggles and wizards. Muggles thought them a myth now while you knew the rumour of the powerful properties that unicorn blood had. You hadn’t even known the Forbidden Forest had unicorns in them.

“It is. I haven’t named her, seems a little wrong to name her. They normally don’t really like men but I found her when she was injured two years ago. She was dying and I helped nurse her back to health. Unicorns have great memories and we’ve kind of become...friends? Or as much of a friend as you can be to one.” He finishes, smiling as he watches the unicorn snort almost in agreement.

Her eyes are a deep black in the moonlight but you note they look almost friendly and kind. Hoseok’s hand on your back pushes you forward slightly, causing you to start and look back at him with wide eyes.

“Move slowly...hold your hand out to her so she can see it and smell it. Be careful and like I said...no sudden moves. You’re a woman so she’s more likely to accept you anyway, but she’ll let you know if she’s not happy.” Gulping, you nod and take a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, you try to stop the trembling in your limbs.

Whether it’s from excitement at finally getting to see your favourite magical creature in the flesh or fear of being gored to death by that dangerous horn, you don’t know. But you follow Hoseok’s words, trusting him to be right.

Slowly, you walk forwards with your hand out, palm side up. Each step you take, you stare intently at the body of the unicorn to try and catch any movement that might be viewed as hostile. Given she had four legs, there was no way you could outrun her but you’d at least like to say you had a head start.

Despite your worry, she makes no threatening moves. If anything, she seems cautiously curious; her ears pricked forwards towards you and her eyes remaining focused solely on you. Not a muscle in her body moves, only the chilly wind blowing through her mane and tail.

Finally, you’re almost within touching distance of her. But instead of carrying on, you stop. Something inside you tells you that it’s a good idea to do that, to let her come to you and accept you. So you remain standing there with your palm held out to her, watching her closely.

Nostrils slightly darker than the rest of her body flare wide a few times, likely taking in as much air as she can to smell you. It isn’t enough though and she slowly extends her neck out, her refined head stretching out until you can feel the hotness of her breath. Not moving, you let her investigate until finally, she takes one careful step forward and presses the velvety softness of her muzzle into your hand.

Smiling, you let her increase the pressure before turning your hand and gently stroking her. There’s a moment of almost curiosity in her eyes, not that you can tell what a unicorn is feeling, before she lets out a huff of air and leans her head into your touch, obviously enjoying the feeling.

Your smile turns into a wide grin as you run your hand along her face slowly, letting her get used to the feel of you before you gently scratch at her chin. Almost instantly her ears flatten and you feel a pang of panic, but she just lifts her head and lets out a nicker of contentment, giving you a better position.

“She likes you.” You hear from beside you, and you turn to see Hoseok patting the unicorn’s neck.

Turning away from you momentarily, the mare lets out a soft whinny as she looks behind her into the forest. Frowning, you crane your head to try to see what she’s looking at. Soft footfalls being and you look at Hoseok in confusion, tilting your head at the sight of his grin.

Before you can ask him what’s going on, there’s a high pitched neigh and the mare turns her head back to you, butting at your hand gently. Glancing to her side, your jaw drops once more and you can’t help but squeal lightly.

A foal is standing next to her, it’s coat fluffy with baby fur and a beautiful golden that contrasts completely from its mother. There’s no horn on its head, only a tiny nub that will one day grow long and tall. Gangly legs look too long for its body and the short, fuzzy tail make you coo in delight as it flicks it from side to side eagerly, those big eyes staring at you as it almost dances in place.

Looking at its mum, you almost ask for the permission with a hand raised in the foal's direction and you could swear the unicorn almost nods. Slowly, you move towards the foal and stroke along its short neck, marvelling at how soft and fluffy it is. The foal snorts, its entire body wobbling from the movement and you giggle in delight, completely awed by the sight of them both.

“She had this foal only a month ago, so he’s still pretty small. But he’s a sweetheart and so friendly. As you probably know, he’ll keep that gold coat for two years before paling out to silver.” Hoseok says casually, still stroking the mare and smiling at her fondly.

For a few minutes, you’re too busy playing with the foal to pay attention to his words but they finally sink in.

“What do you mean, as you probably know?” Neither of you had discussed unicorns so far during your mealtime talks, so you didn’t know why he’d think that. Sure, you’d been taught about unicorns in school but that had been so long ago and it hadn’t even been a full class on them.

Your love of them had meant you’d learnt much more about them, absorbing all the information you could find in books when you were a teenager. The fact that you were finally standing here, stroking not only a unicorn but also her foal was something that you’d always wished you could do. Given how rare they were though, you’d never expected it to happen.

“Well, they’re your favourite magical creature, right? Or they were, anyway.” He frowns slightly, unsure if he’s got something wrong and you simply stare at him for a moment.

Had he remembered that from when you’d been at Hogwarts? Given your love of them, it was only natural that he’d known about them back then given how often you’d spent time at his house to have sleepovers with Jisoo. But you’d have thought he’d have forgotten all about that by now.

Jisoo didn’t even remember this as you’d both grown over the years, the obsession of teenagers mellowing out. Unicorns remained your favourite magical creature, but you didn’t hold that deep passion that you did back then. The fact that Hoseok had remembered stunned you into silence for a moment though, causing you to frown down at the foal.

“Yeah...yeah, they are. I...I mean...thank you. For remembering and showing me this, this is amazing. I’ll never forget this, Hoseok.” You’re not entirely sure how to thank him properly, because you don’t know of anyone else who could show you a unicorn like this.

Before you can say anything else or Hoseok can respond, you’re both distracted by the way the foal lets out a squeal and butts his head into you lightly before jumping away. Taken aback, you watch him for a moment for he does it again, his impossibly slim legs wobbling slightly as he trips on a rock.

“He wants you to play,” Hoseok says softly, smiling as he watches you both. Glancing to him, you raise a brow before grinning back at the baby unicorn. Tilting your head at him, you purse your lips before jumping forward and raising your hands in claw motions. Almost immediately, the foal leaps forward before darting back to you and you giggle, already planning your next move.

Yeah, okay, you might be thirty-three years old...but you were going to play with the baby unicorn.

422 notes · View notes

genuflectx · 2 years

Text

Giant Mantis/Reader CH5 {SFW}

Chapter Length: 5,229

Main Themes: Giant bugs, scent,

Other Warnings: Ex-partners, being cheated on, manipulative texts

Finally, the last two chapters :D

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 (you are here) - Epilogue

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

Chapter 5 - Matriarchs' First

She had been asleep by the time you snuck back into the house. You ended up just having a quick shower to wipe out the goo that had half-crusted inside of you, air dried, and then slipped into your guest bed. It wouldn't be till morning that you saw her again.

“You must have come back late,” Gladys rose a brow and smirked. You could feel it even though she had her back to you as she made breakfast. “I went to bed around ten and you still weren't back.”

You awkwardly shuffled into the kitchen, glad she couldn't see how flustered you were to be called out. Well, you had to speak up, anyways. Didn't have to describe the night of passion, but you did have to ask her about the possibility of saying even longer. You had laid in bed naked most of the night thinking of ways to phrase it.

“Do... do you think they would ever hire anymore staff here, like before?” You crossed your arms uncomfortably.

She turned around at the stove to shoot you an inquiring look.

“I mean, it's just,” you searched the ground, then shrugged a shoulder. “I've seen how much work it is being here alone. It's like, a whole farm run by just one person. With the fields, orchard, greenhouses,” you trailed off.

Her head tilted towards her shoulder and she crossed her arms, too. “Getting tired of city life are we?”

You shrugged again.

Gladys chewed her inner lip for a few seconds, staring at you. Then she turned back to the stove and poked at her bacon. “[Y/N], what is it you do outside of the island?”

You hoped she was asking like an employer, that maybe she was probing for your qualifications. Somehow, you subconsciously knew that was untrue.

“I went to school for psychology, but I only have a bachelors,” you scratched your arm sheepishly. “I needed to save money for my loans and for the master's program. So, I've been working in sales for a little while.”

Gladys hummed in thought. “Sales.”

Her stern one-word reply made you go on the defense. “Um, insurance sales. It's- it's really not so bad, you get pretty good commissions when you do well!”

She didn't say anything for nearly a whole minute. The bacon was sat on a paper towel and she grabbed two pieces of toast from the toaster. As she shut the fridge door with butter in hand, she sighed.

“Vervain would be happy to hear you're considering a career change.”

You nodded, trying not to be obvious. “Probably. But they all need a little help, not just him. You know?”

There were so many things you could do to help them all, you told yourself silently. Helping Fig humble himself enough to not scare away mates. Teaching mama Rhod about the nuance of gender, even if just from a limited human perspective, and tthus helping her realize what a wonderful son she had in Vervain. And there were sure to be hatchlings soon, who would need a guiding hand. It must have been difficult for Gladys to raise Vervain's generation pretty much on her lonesome. Wouldn't it be nice to have an extra set of hands? Even if untrained ones?

You did a great job of convincing yourself you'd be of use, but when it really came down to it, it was Gladys who you needed to impress. You'd nearly begun to sweat. The click of an oven dial made you jerk to attention, and you watched her hopefully.

Gladys shimmied past you to bring two plates out to the dining table, each with a slice of toast and four pieces of bacon atop. She left the butter in the middle of the table and popped in two more pieces of toast after brief deliberation. You could tell, by her silence, that she must have been thinking. With any luck, you prayed she was considering your offer.

You could work a garden, you could mend a fence. But most of all your heart ached at the thought of leaving Vervain behind for an empty apartment. Of going back home and finding drunk voice mails from your shitty ex when they realized you weren't responding to texts. Were you making a hasty, irresponsible decision? Probably. But you rarely did anything out of raw passion. You'd never felt like this before. You moved and absently sat at the table to wait for her to come back with the rest of the toast.

She returned, but instead of sitting she laid one palm on the clean table surface and put the other on her hip. “Vervain really seems to like you.”

You flushed and nibbled a piece of bacon, as if having something for your hands and mouth to do could save you from her judgment. “He likes humans. So I hear.”

“Did he have any luck at the bonfire last night?” Her eyes narrowed.

You nearly choked on the bacon. “Ah. Well. He was certainly courted. But he didn't seem very interested.”

Gladys stared you down a moment longer before she laughed in her throat, then walked away. When she came back she was holding a picture frame gingerly in her hands, and you recognized it as the one on the fireplace. She sat it down loudly in front of your plate before she took her seat and dug in.

You picked it up and stared at it soundlessly. You remembered this picture from the first day you entered the house. You hadn't been allowed to get a good look at it before because Gladys had turned it around from your view. Now, with it right here in your hands, you could make out the edges of a sharp, brown shape, and realization struck you.

Her mouth opened. “That's-”

“Alfalfa?” You interrupted.

Gladys stopped chewing, eyes wide. “Where'd you hear that name?”

You sat the picture down carefully, giving it a sad, knowing smile. “Vervain told me.”

The mantis in the picture looked so much different from Vervain and his family. He had smaller, more delicate features, and instead of being vibrant he was the color of dead leaves. His antenna, his face, and what little the image revealed of his body, were much more drastically camouflaged with flags and spikes than Vervain. Sitting within a small face were huge tan eyes that directly faced the camera, posing for it politely. You thought he looked happy.

You wanted to ask Gladys why she was showing you this photo, but you had a good guess. Gladys always sort of knew about you and Vervain. She had experience, after all. Did she see herself in you? As you took another baby-small bite from your toast and bacon she started speaking again.

“I said before that you were welcome to stay as long as you want,” she said. “But permanent residence is... trickier.”

You hummed sadly, looking down at your plate as you ate.

“But Al... would have wanted me to try.”

When you looked up she was smiling and leaning her chin on the back of her hand. Her eyes sparkled with a determination even some youth had trouble inspiring within themselves. Then she reached out her palm, and you leaned to give her back her picture. She looked at it wistfully.

“I've been here alone as the only human for so long now. It's never really bothered me, I always prefer the company of my bugs. But I won't be around forever. You're right that it's a lot of work, and I'm no spring chicken anymore,” she snorted, then paused.

“It may take some string pulling,” she continued, still meeting the eyes of her late partner in the frame. “But if this is something you're serious about, then. Welcome aboard, intern.”

You grinned, chest full of hope. You could not wait to tell Vervain, and vibrated in your seat. “Thank you Gladys! You're a really kind person!”

She let out a single sardonic laugh but didn't comment on the compliment. “But I want you to be sure. Really, really sure. So I think it's time.”

Your joy fizzled, if but a little, with nervousness creeping up in its place like a slow moving vine. “Oh. Time for what?”

Gladys looked smug. “To meet the little ones.”

After breakfast she took you out back. There, the second greenhouse which sat beside Rhod's waited patiently, unopened and mysterious as ever. As Gladys approached and laid her hand on the door, you stuttered and spoke.

“W-wait, if they're as shy as you say, is it really right for me to be bothering them like this?” You worried. “If I work here I'll see them all the time.”

She sighed and turned around. “They'll still be shy six months from now, kid. No backing out.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt and bit your lip. Then you nodded. Gladys, seemingly satisfied, returned to the door and paused for dramatic effect. Then in one smooth motion pulled, and the door came wide open. A burst of hot air hit you like dragon's breath, and you flinched. You didn't think you'd ever get used to that.

“Aw don't be like that,” Gladys said softly in front, clearly towards someone that wasn't you.

When you met her at her side you froze. At first you thought the bright flashing shapes were dozens of eyes staring you down, trying to intimidate you, but then your brain caught up. They were pseudo-eyes, quivering within their inner arms. The fake eyes' bright colors were in stark contrast to the pallid autumn of the rest of their bodies, and was quite a shock to take in.

“They startle like this every time,” she whispered.

“Huh.”

Gladys slowly entered, gesturing back towards you. “This is [Y/N], our guest. Since you lot have been locked up in your little cave the last few days you haven't met them.” She shook her head. “Oh, please, [Y/N] is not that scary. Close your mouths,” she scolded, shutting the door careful behind you.

One lowered itself and approached the two of you, and the closer they got the louder a further mantis hissed. They reached out with a little hand, like a cat afraid to touch something, and just as it came in contact with your foot the mantis jumped backwards, causing a cacophony of hissing and scattering.

Gladys flopped her hands at her sides and sent you an incredulous look. You were trying not to laugh. This was actually pretty funny, but you felt like saying so might come off as rude. You pressed your lips together and shrugged.

“Well I'm glad you're amused,” Gladys mused playfully.

The mantis who'd batted your foot reluctantly came forward again, still squat to the ground as if afraid. Their antenna, which were shorter than in Vervain's species, wiggled towards. “You smell,” they said in a tiny, frightened voice.

You deadpanned. “Wow. Thanks?”

“Like... like the matriarch’s first,” they continued, antennas flickering.

You stared down at them silently, then said: “I, uh, don't know what that means.”

Gladys cut up, snorting and then barking a laugh so loudly that the mantis jumped backwards into the air again. She leaned over herself, supported by her knees. You grew hot with embarrassment.

“Wh-what? What's so funny?” You probed.

She wiped at tears and perspiration as it dripped down her face. “Nothing!” Gladys breathed heavily, then straightened up and crossed her arms, as if to look smaller and inconspicuous. “Nothing at all!”

You just stood there, feeling silly and like there was something you weren't getting.

For a few minutes you observed as Gladys chattered at the little mantises until the atmosphere had mercifully loosened. When the ice had been broken their stances had reduced to something more neutral. It was then you could judge their true height. The little ones were probably about, on average, the size of Great Danes, leaving their heads around chest height to humans. However, some were smaller, roughly the size of a German Shepard. It was kind of cute. You could see why Gladys ended up befriending and growing closer to one of these little guys, despite their dramatic, reactionary nature.

“Have they left yet?” The one in front- who had been the one to touch you- questioned.

Gladys moved to lean against a tree and shook her head. “Sorry kiddos. Our guests from the other side of the island are still here. The meeting was just last night. As you can probably smell,” she gave you a quick glance, one you nearly missed.

Small voices drifted around the greenhouse in conversation. You could make out a few words, most of them about staying out of sight. When they died down again the mantis asked another question.

“And- and this one...?” They gestured at you subtly.

“[Y/N] might stay forever I'm afraid,” she cocked her head and the corner of her lip quirked up.

You saw a few mantises gawk in upset; some left to hide behind young trees and full-bodied bushes. The rest kept staring at you. You began to feel nervous and sticky with the heat.

“Ah, yeah,” you said, trying to smile. “I asked about the possibility of, um. Staying. Here.”

The one up front stared a little while longer. Then they ducked their head and approached you slowly. When they were just close enough they reluctantly stretched out their claw, not even bothering to uncurl and offer their hand. You blinked.

“I am called Parsley,” they said, pupils trained on yours.

You couldn't help but feel some kind of aggression in the way they looked at you, despite the submissive posture. You swallowed and stuck out your hand to take their claw, but they winced. Suddenly you had deja vu.

“Can I shake your hand- er, claw?” You asked.

Parsley lifted their claw back up again and nodded. So you took it between your pointer and thumb and jiggled it weakly. As soon as it was over Parsley swiftly tucked their arm back up against their chest and backed away, staring the entire time.

“Well,” Gladys's loud voice sliced the thick air like a knife. “If you're not going to come out yet we've got to get going. [Y/N] here needs to start packing. Unless you've since changed your mind?

You looked between her and Parsley's wild eyes, caught of guard. After stiffening and gathering yourself back up you smiled more genuinely, giving her a single curt nod. “I still want to stay.”

She smiled back. “Good.”

Before leaving she did something surprising. Gladys walked right up to Parsley and plopped her hand on top of their head, right between their eyes. Parsley chirruped in a way that reminded you distinctively of a cat who had been woken up.

“Need anything before I seal your cave back up?” She asked.

Parsley nuzzled up happily against her hand, tiny clicks coming from their mouth. “We are satisfied.”

Gladys gave them one last pat. “You know what to do if you need anything. It's what I'm here for.”

They nodded.

Then Gladys led you out, closing the door as softly as possible, and pushing all the hot air back inside along with it. She smoothed her palm across the surface. Then she looked backwards at you expectantly, brow raised. “Well you didn't lose a limb so I think that went well.”

Your eyes bulged. “What? I could have lost a limb?”

She bellowed and smacked your back, nearly making you stumble over. “Just taking the piss! Come on then. Let's go get your things.”

You were a little confused at first, until she revealed she meant to have you retrieve your belongings from the hotel, right here, right now, today. There was still time before your plane left. However, you hesitantly agreed that it was best to gather your personal effects now, particularly because you'd been hiking, sweating, and 'playing' in your current clothes for a while. They were gross. After that, she'd said something about finishing outside affairs, but you did not want to even consider addressing the thought of going back home yet, so she thankfully dropped it for the time being.

As you returned to the cabin, questions about the little ones stuck on your tongue, a familiar sight distracted you. Vervain was there, on the roof. Gladys only admonished him a little this time as she went inside.

“I saw the greenhouse door open,” he shifted uncomfortably from where he'd crawled to the ground. “So I waited for you here.”

You giggled in your throat. “Say no more. Gladys wasn't joking when she said they were jumpy.”

His eyes darted around anxiously, and his forearms rubbed together. You read his mind and gave him the exciting news, punctuating it by explaining your plan to grab your things from the hotel room. When you mentioned the hotel he deflated.

“I'm coming back,” you said, glancing at Gladys as she came out the front door once more, keys tinkling in her hand. “I just need my stuff. I left a lot back at the hotel. You don't want me smelling like this forever do you?”

He stared at you.

“Actually, don't answer that,” you shook your head, smirking. “I promise. Just a few hours then I'll be back.”

Vervain reached out and gently rubbed the back of his claw against your wrist. “Then I look forward to seeing more human things from beyond the fence.”

You smiled at him and patted his arm, which he reluctantly returned to his chest. You waved and climbed into the truck with Gladys, and Vervain watched from the front yard as she ferried you away. Despite Vervain's grim expression as you left you still wiggled excitedly. Everything was happening so fast now but it felt like a lifetime, like the world was a bubble. It was just you, Gladys, and the odd creatures she called a family.

“You know,” she said as she got onto a long stretch of winding island road. “They wouldn't have accepted you so quickly had you not smelled like Vervain.”

Did she have to say something so embarrassing right off the bat and ruin your excitement? Your chest felt like a balloon as you fiddled with a string on your shorts. “O-oh?”

Gladys hummed and nodded but didn't say anything else. Slowly, you relaxed again. The silence reminded you that you had questions; seeing the way she interacted with what you assumed was the little ones' matriarch made you curious.

“So... you and Parsley seemed friendly,” you started.

She side eyed you, then smirked. “She was Al's first. I'm sort of like,” she gestured wildly with one hand, the other loose on the wheel. “Mmm, her matriarch.”

Your brows flew into your hairline. “What do you mean?”

Gladys sighed. She looked like she was gathering her thoughts. After a moment she tried to explain without over-explaining. “Some of the mantises you met today were Al's children, Parsley included. That's as simple as I can put it.”

You turned your head and gawked at her in surprise. You were shocked that he would have children, and wondered if it had occurred before or after Gladys. Would asking be rude?

“They're not mine, obviously,” she peered at you, and there was a mischievous glint there. “If that's what you want to ask.”

That hadn't been what you were thinking at all. You knew it was unlikely- if not impossible- for a mantis to impregnate a human. You were different species.

You ripped your eyes away. “I guess I just... didn't expect him to have children if he was with you.”

She shrugged. “He wanted them.”

“They're kind of like your step kids then, huh,” you muttered after a bit.

She scoffed. “Heh. Yeah. Bratty ones.”

The conversation drifted off from there, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence, only the engine and wheels against the road permeating it. She didn't even bother to turn on the radio. You stared out the side window, watching the blurry rural landscape fly by. There was really nothing out here but nature. It should have been disconcerting for someone who had grew up amid concrete and lights, but it wasn't. You found yourself relaxing into your seat, deep in thought, with the sights and sounds morphing into mush.

You had more questions, but couldn't find the courage to ask them. Instead, you mind fell on Vervain. Would he want children, too? You weren't sure how you would feel about it if he did, your hand clenching the fabric over your stomach. Would it be so bad? To raise another's children as your own as Gladys evidently had? You were getting ahead of yourself and tried to clear away that idea for now.

The drive up to the tiny tourist town took about an hour. When you arrived Gladys waited in the truck while you went up and gathered your belongings. You walked down the long carpeted hall, heart pounding, and could not figure out what had you so shaken. You opened your abandoned room with a card. As the heavy door silently fell open, like the mouth of some bone-crushing hyena, a blast of clean hotel-scented air brushed over you. You had expected humid heat on instinct.

You flicked the light and stepped inside. And now you remembered why you booked this room. It was an apartment in its own right, with a living room, kitchen, couple's suite, and adjacent room for children which you had not booked. The bathroom itself had a massive jacuzzi. You wandered around, staring through everything, feeling unbearably alone and running on empty. The adrenaline from the morning had finally been rinsed away, leaving a residue of dread in its wake.

At the window you could look out over the coastal region of the island. Ferns and tropical flora. Tall golden grass set in dunes of sand, stretching out until they met the white beach. It was nothing like the hazy skyline from your apartment. The air was so clean here, and the sky so unnaturally blue. You gazed out for a little while before deciding you needed to get out of the hotel as quickly as possible.

First, you dug your dead phone from your pocket and stuck it on the charger next to the window, leaving it on the sill. Gladys, having not had a smart phone, hadn't had a charger, either. You wanted to at least check your messages and texts, at least out of curiosity if there had been anymore, and were glad to let it gather juice as you packed up.

You grabbed things at breakneck speed and crammed them into your rolling suitcase as long as they could fit. You snatched your toiletries, even stole the hotel soap, and then heard a soft chime. You recognized it. Apprehension was ice in your veins as you approached the sill. You lifted the screen and tilted it, the rounded square of a new text set among several, much longer, and much older, messages. You had been ignoring them since before you left. You hesitated. Then you swiped.

Saturday 2:03pm

Idk why you cant just be happy for me and be happy you got to go on the vacation still while I stay behind. I paid for half of it the least you can do is thank me you know

Better tell me when you get to the airport and island ok?

Sunday 6:44PM

I see how it is. You had better be dead then and not pretending not to see my texts again. We dated for years I know what youre like when you feel wronged [y/n] it's not pretty or cute.

9:00PM

you said you still wanted to be friends. So where are the pics? You got to the beach?

You clenched your other hand into a tight, white-knuckled fist at your side. You scrolled, skimming absently, letting the words turn into a mish-mash of predictable gibberish, until you got to Wednesday. That was last night. With the harsh glare of your phone in your eyes, even the sweet memories of Vervain's protective hold did not comfort you.

Wednesday 7:15am

Look [y/n] you've been ignoring me for days and our friends too. Idk if you're still alive or just being a bitch about this when I paid for half of the hotel, but believe it or not I still care and don't actually want ypu dead. I checked, there weren't any plain crashes. But for all I know you got eaten by mountain lions.

7:56am

I was going to wait until you came back from the trip.

But

quinne and I broke up

2:10pm

no response big fuckin suprise. You haven't changed. What did you do when I tried to talk to you about everything before? Fuckin shut me out. And you know what quinne started doing the same. No wonder you were friends. Two peas in a fucking pod

Thursday, 1:12am

i'm so sorry, [y/n], i'm so sorry. I know we have our differences but I mean it. I shouldn't take this out on you its hard losing you and then she won't even stand with me either.

1:20am

we could go back to normal

if you want

2:00am

if you'd just fucking REPLY TO ME AND STOP IGNORING ME <3

You stopped reading there. You didn't care what else they had to say to you, it wouldn't make you feel any better. Still, the reminder that there was a world outside of this island was painful. You regretted the desire to check on that stupid brick knowing good and well what would be waiting.

You changed clothes then shoved your phone, and charger, into your suitcase. Then you left. Paid an annoying fee for checking out early. Gladys was nearly dozing when you returned to her, and as you climbed in with your belongings she suggested stopping for groceries. Apparently she did not come to town often.

“Just a quick stop at the dairy,” she said. “So you can get back.”

So she took you to a small strip, parked, and then left with wink, hands stuck in her pockets as she walked across the lot. You slumped in your seat, head back and staring at nothing. Thoughts raced through your head as you sat in the quiet. Should you continue to ignore your ex, or should you respond? Should you comfort them that you had not been eaten by an animal?

You thought, for a small, resentful moment, that you should tell them you met someone new. Telling them you'd met someone would do nothing but stir the pot. But a scorned and vindictive part of you wanted to tell them, just to make them squirm and understand how you had felt. At least you weren't cheating. No, that was what they had done. They and Quinne, who you thought had been your friend.

What if they got jealous? You smirked, shutting your eyes. But you didn't want to risk having your angry, single-again ex storm your apartment and demand to know who you had met. A flash crossed your mind; it was the image of them facing Vervain, wrathful, and then shaking in fear and being cut down. Then there came a cringe of guilt. A tiny muffled chime rang out from the backseat, pulling you out of your imaginings. You ignored it.

There was a knock at the window and you startled. Gladys had returned with an armful of groceries, and opened the back door to tuck them in safely. She was saying something, but you were still distant as your heart pounded in your ear. When she climbed back into the drivers seat she gave you a funny look.

“Honey, you don't look so hot. Second thoughts?”

You sat up and shook your head. “No, it's just... when I charged my phone I had a lot of texts from someone I knew.”

Her hand froze on the keys and she stared blankly. “You don't have a spouse back home, do ya?”

An offended gasp escaped you. “Nothing like that! They were from an ex,” you shrugged. “I told them I wanted to stay friends, but things haven't been really working out that way. After they cheated on me-”

“Cheated!” She yelped, starting the truck. “Just another reason to give up on that world,” Gladys flung a hand up as she pulled through the parking lot to leave. “Giant mantids are veeery explicit about their partners. Won't get any of that from Vervain.”

You gaped at her bluntness. Eventually you turned to look out the front, then at your hands, and sighed. She was right. Why were you even deliberating over this? Your ex had been an asshole. They were still an asshole. Maybe, when you had first known each other, there had been a spark of something there. But even in the honeymoon phase you felt off. It had been nothing like how you felt getting to know Vervain and his ilk.

“But I'm just an old entomologist, stuck in her ways. What do I know?” She then added, a little gentler. “[Y/N]. What do you want? Do you still think you want to stay here with us, or do you want to go back to your city block?” She paused. “To this ex?”

Speckles dotted your vision like the tiny green and yellow freckles that covered Vervain's face. You really had only known him for a little while. If you stayed here you would be giving up on more than just your apartment and aggressive ex. There were good things back home, too. Your family, your friends, your degree. But, weighing the pros and cons, you considered living among Vervain and his family would contain more condensed life experience than every class of a master's degree combined. If that was what you wanted.

Did you want to give up on everything to become like Gladys, just for Vervain? No, this was for yourself, too. You were tired of the smog, the apathetic faces, of feeling like a nobody among nobodies. Of being around nothing but miserable people. Gladys and Vervain didn't treat you like that. You could be happy here, even if it wasn't what “success” looked like to those of your old life. Happiness was its own success.

It occurred to you that Gladys had still been talking. You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye and wondered how it was she had been so lucky. You smiled softly.

“What?” She asked, clearly noticing. “Okay now you're just scaring me here. I can turn around, there's a hospital back there. Say something.”

“I still want to stay here,” you replied with a rabbit-soft determination. “I want to help you, and I want to be around the mantises. My ex... they really hurt me. I've grown closer to all of you in just a few days, more than I had in years with my ex.”

You're all my friends, now, you thought, but were too shy to add that.

She looked at you for a few moments then jerked her eyes back to the road; took a deep breath and exhaled sharply before breaking out in a wide, wrinkled smile. “Great. That's what I like to hear. Let's go home.”

#terato #exophilia #giant bug #giant insect #monster romance #art

9 notes · View notes

astriiformes · 3 years

Text

I’ve spent years now assuming that going back to school (strategically, when I was ready, so it wasn’t just another unmitigated disaster for me) would help ease some of my near-constant anxiety over feeling like I’m behind where I want to be with academics/my career, but it turns out that committing to it this year and officially submitting a transfer application has actually only made things WORSE, I think because it honestly feels like a step back to be going from my current situation at the museum to....... going back to school, and being an undergraduate student again, 2 or 3 years after most of the rest of my peers from high school already graduated

I imagine I may feel better if I actually get accepted and find interesting things to participate in at the university, and especially if I can find some volunteer opportunities outside of school that are more outreach/activist/action-oriented than just working on a degree, but right now I mostly just have this weird depression over realizing that the thing I thought would feel like a step forward actually just feels like a step back. Just the other day I saw a scicomm job posting with a place I would leap at the opportunity to work for, and even though I already threw an application at them for a different position back in December and didn’t hear anything back (because I really do need more qualifications, which is what I’m going back to school to get) I still got slammed with a wall of angst about it not being reasonable to consider applying for new full-time job postings right now, when I’m hoping to go back to being a full-time student in less than five months. Like, I know I wouldn’t get the position, but I do want to be doing that kind of work, not about to pull myself out of the workforce for who knows how many years just so I’m qualified to do that work, you know? It’s making me feel awful about having to drop out all over again, which sucks extra because I really did think that finally going back to school would be the one thing that might eventually make me feel better about it.

#sorry all i am just going to be a wreck over this whole process for a while #it's like. going back is probably still the right call. but unfortunately in my years away i have gotten a taste of Actually Doing Things #and while i still want to go back so i can Actually Do bigger and better things #still sucks to have to punt myself back into academic limbo to get there #assuming i even get in #i think the other thing is like. yeah sure. technically i could still be doing lots of things; even while in school #nothing says i couldn't start a scicomm youtube channel. or a podcast. or try my hand at freelance science writing. or any number of things #and all that would be great to have under my belt when i re-enter the workforce #unfortunately and as usual though; i still remain the biggest thing in my way #i'm not sure i could get any of that off the ground even if i wasn't juggling school; especially since adhd meds still seem like a bust #so it kind of feels like going back to school is going to suck up all my potential for actually making a difference and i am. frustrated #eurgh. maybe having dreams and aspirations was a mistake actually

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

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Chapter 6 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“When’s your birthday, Sasuke?” Naruto asked unprompted. He was eating an onigiri in one hand and writing in a notebook with another. “Captain Haru gave me a journal and told me to fill in the dates.”

“Why are you treating it like a slam book?”

“What’s a slam book? Why are you even changing the topic?”

“July 23.”

Naruto went silent for a moment as he jotted down Sasuke’s name. “Oh, last week? During our sleepover?”

“You mean, hostage sleepover.”

“Ah shit. We didn’t get you a present. Sorry, grumpy.” Naruto’s face was sincerely apologetic and Sasuke was on the verge of nonchalantly assuring him that it was all right when he heard his following reply. “But make sure you get me one okay. It will be on October 10.”

“I wish I was allowed to physically harm you right now but your training next week will suffice,” Sasuke jested right back. “I’ll put in a word with Haru to make you suffer.” He would have said more clapbacks if they didn’t hear loud footsteps running their way.

Their two heads popped just a few inches above the bushes that lined behind the fence and saw a disheveled Sakura catching her breath with bent knees and her arms full of folders. Sasuke surmised she might have come from a council meeting.

“It’s Sakura – “ Sasuke covered Naruto’s loud mouth with his palm.

Her phone rang inside her skirt’s pockets, and her expression panicked when she saw the caller id. The folders fumbled out of her grasp when she answered it. “Oh hello, Kakashi-sensei.”

Both the boys’ brows raised in curiosity when her voice went a pitch higher.

“Ah, I’m actually out of the campus right now, Sensei. Got an errand to run. I’ll see you for consultations…..soon?” Then she ended the call. They all heard another set of footsteps nearing their location, and Sakura repeatedly said I’m screwed to herself.

Naruto wrestled out of Sasuke’s headlock and pulled a surprised Sakura inside their hiding place. The latter grumbled but quickly gathered the folders from the ground and followed suit. Three heads now looked over the bushes, and true enough, Kakashi appeared in the clearing with his phone in his hand. “That’s funny. I thought I heard her voice here.”

When they were sure he was out of their sight and earshot, Sasuke signaled a thumbs up, and Naruto, not missing a beat, started with the obvious question. “Why are you hiding from our mathematics teacher?”

Sakura blushed with intensity, her cheeks the color of cherry tomatoes with a ripeness Sasuke liked the most. She flushed so intensely she couldn’t hide it for her sake. The thought of wanting to have that kind of privilege crossed his mind. “Uh, he wanted a report from me, but I wasn’t able to finish it.” Like the self-aware person that she was, she immediately got her bearings and recognized the place. “This is behind the library.”

“It’s Sasuke’s favorite hiding place until I barged in. And now, it’s yours too.” Naruto grinned at her even when he just revealed this place’s existence to their student council president.

“Shouldn’t you be asking me permission first?” Sasuke arranged the folders first before returning them to Sakura who seemed to calm down a bit.

She laughed dryly. “Technically, it’s public property so we don’t need your permission…grumpy.”

Naruto erupted in laughter while Sasuke closed his eyes in annoyance. Two loud-mouths in what was supposed to be in his safe space and yet all he felt was just mild annoyance. Stopping his thoughts before they ran him aground, he rummaged through their storage bin and found an extra sandwich he bought this morning and the last pack of his cherry tomato juice.

He passed the food to her and gave her a little bit of scolding. “At least have your lunch first before making fun of me.”

“You’re really giving her a tomato juice?” Naruto never could hide his disgust for certain food. “Don’t tell me this is your rite of passage.”

Sasuke glared at the blonde, forcing him to shut up. “Bring any more people here, and I’ll tell your captain to drag you to hell.” That wasn’t so difficult, given that Haru has taken a liking to him, for what he didn’t know. He just treated him like a big brother would, like Itachi would.

Sakura took a sip in the middle of their banter, and she emitted a surprised sound. “So this is what it tasted like? It’s actually good.”

That was the first time someone liked what he liked, and he vaguely realized he was waiting for her opinion. With that, he had trouble suppressing the smile that started to form on his face, so he looked away and mustered his focus on the nearby yells of a practicing dragonboat team.

“Oh, I forgot, belated happy birthday Sasuke.”

He strengthened his resolve not to turn his head just as quickly because he was sure the shock was visible in his face. He was so taken aback he didn’t hear Naruto ask Sakura where she learned of it.

“I came across our class records during the meeting and saw the date. Sucks we weren’t able to get you a present. Anyway, I gotta run. I have another presentation to the principal for a personal project.” Sakura finished off her sandwich in one bite and ran out of the secluded space.

Naruto stared after her disappearing figure, the bunched-up juice carton and sandwich wrapper in his hands. “I should make her a decent lunch sometime. I don’t think she’s eating well.”

But Sasuke had another observation in mind. “Why didn’t you ask for her birthday?”

“I know already. I asked Hinata about it.”

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

Sakura tried to catch up with the baseball captain in the seniors’ hallways before she would lose him to his after classes dates with Hinata. “Haru, wait up please.”

His brown hair has grown longer to hide his undercut which Naruto wanted to replicate as he often mentioned in between their conversations in classes. It was actually a wonder how the usually demure Hinata gravitated towards Haru who had a strong personality. His annoyed gaze softened when he realized it was her calling him, his smile turning into a wide grin as she raced through the halls.

“No running, Ms. President,” he chided.

Sakura playfully punched his shoulder, her fist’s impact light as she struggled to catch her breath. “Can I at least have some of your time? I promise I won’t take long.”

The captain’s face took on an incredulous look. “How the tables have turned.”

They found themselves on a rooftop, away from the incidental eavesdroppers (if there were any), and moreover they needed some quiet space to talk about important matters. The first of which was the baseball team’s finances.

“I gotta hand this to you rather straightforwardly. The board didn’t foresee your qualification in the preliminaries hence they didn’t allot a big budget for your team – not for training, not for travel expenses, not for uniforms, and miscellaneous expenses.” He towered over her, her height a third short from his shoulders, but when he hunched them forward and leaned against the railings, he was almost shoulder to shoulder with her. “So what are your plans?”

Back in junior high, he would often ruffle her hair out of her immaculate ponytail, and this closeness wasn’t really odd because they were from the same town and grew on the same block. Distance just crept in as they made more friends and entered different circles.

“My personal savings,” Haru simply replied. “Our coach will chip in half of our projected expenses so we’re good to go.”

Sakura sighed. “As always, you don’t like to rely on anyone.”

“We’re not really too far from each other, Sakura. So what’s your plan anyway?” Haru turned with his back this time against the railing.

“Pass-the-Hat.”

Haru nodded. “And your savings.”

Sakura shook her head vehemently. “Hell no.”

“Gears are turning in your head, and I can see you’ll fill in a part with your savings. Stop it, Haruno.”

“I’m telling you, I won’t give you a part of my savings. Anyway – “

“Anyway? There’s more?” Haru hastily looked at his watch to check the time, almost formed a reply, and thought better of it, hiding his wrist from his view.

“I saw your career sheet form. You know you could always try to apply for an athletic scholarship, right?” If she can hazard a guess, Haru may not be planning at all to proceed to college. He always has his father’s fishing business to take over back in their town.

“No association would vet for a player who only qualified for prelims on his senior year.” Haru playfully ruffled her hair, the gesture she thought was once forgotten between them. “So don’t feel sorry for me. I already have Hinata to deal with.”

“You sound so pessimistic when you’re just going away for a year until she decides to follow you. Your story’s almost like a fairytale,” Sakura scoffed.

“First of all, long distance relationships don’t work and second and last of all, there’s her father to think about.” Haru let out a long sigh. “Believe me, Sakura, I want to make it work, but I feel like the distance between us had already set in even before I go.”

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

Haru was right. While Pass-the-Hat garnered lots of amounts enough to shoulder the logistics of the training of the baseball team before the semis, there wasn’t enough to pay for their new equipment. She could ask the teachers, but she knew Haru and the coach have already asked for prior favors. At the last minute before the trip got cancelled, Sakura anonymously put in two-thirds of her savings into the donations pool which the captain got wind of and somehow reached Kakashi.

While she was successful in avoiding him for the first few days of the school trip while Naruto and his team was in Fukuoka, he caught her alone as she was reading the markers outside the walls of a castle.

“Haruno Sakura.” His voice startled her. She turned around, like a good student that she was, and waved a bit too enthusiastically. “Mind telling me why you won’t talk to me outside of our council meetings? Did I say any directive that offended you or overworked you? I need to have an open communication with you kids.”

Kids. “Ah, I was just a little busy these past weeks,” Sakura assured him. She nervously fidgeted with his rubber band that was still on her wrist. His eyes followed her movements, and she hid them quickly behind her back, afraid of what he would say if he realized.

“I heard from the principal that he greenlighted your personal project, and that you will be presenting this to the board next week for a possible funding. You accomplished that on top of the feats you pulled to bring the baseball team to the semis.” As Kakashi recounted her accomplishments, she couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks. She was finding it difficult to say an excuse right now. “So I’m returning your personal donation.”

Sakura stared at him directly, never mind the raven irises that drowned her in undivided attention. “What?” He smiled, highlighting even more his mole, and she gasped, breathless at the sight.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over these things. You’re too young for this. I’ll have the funds downloaded to your bank, all right.” Kakashi patted her head softly and disappeared in the meandering crowds.

She slapped the rubber band against the thin skin of her wrist repeatedly. She didn’t know whether she should feel grateful that her savings were back or feel angry that she was patronized because of her age. Didn’t Kakashi know that teenagers grow up faster than their actual age and that she had every right to worry her pretty head? When will he start seeing her as she was?

Her self-deprecating thoughts ran awry when someone took hold of her wrist that has gone red from the slap of the rubber band.

For someone who alternated between being grim-faced or stoic, Sasuke’s hand was gentle and kind. She knew that ever since she saw him in the café, all the good things in him seeping out through cracks in his wall. Right now, she knew he was worried about the supportless baseball team.

“They’re losing, aren’t they?” Sakura suppressed the overwhelming emotions from her earlier interaction with Kakashi and concocted a plan in her head.

She coordinated with the guides and had them add a stop at the baseball field at Fukuoka for one last hurrah for the team.

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

Thirty minutes later, their school witnessed how the top teams decimated Naruto’s team. No innings won, batters relentless, and Haru got injured. Sakura, sensing the dampened atmosphere among the student body, rallied yells, earning surprised looks from the team members.

Through the crowds, Sasuke saw Hinata, her fingers twirling the ends of her long braid, and her eyes scanning the place for her boyfriend…until her gaze shifted to Naruto. He traversed the space to stand beside her, breaking his own rule to remain uninvolved in other people’s affairs.

But he owed this to Naruto and Haru who never failed to include him in after practice dinners and effectively kept the gaping depression in his apartment away.

“Your boyfriend has a broken arm, but you’re looking at Naruto.” He said, even before he could announce his presence to her.

Hinata turned her face to him and repeated his words. “My boyfriend has a broken arm but I cannot look at broken limbs for too long. Thanks for pointing that out.”

“There’s a second statement after my but.”

“Hmm, my eyes just probably gravitated to him unknowingly. But it couldn’t be helped, right? He just has this bright, sunshine energy.” Hinata shrugged, seemingly confused by her words as well.

Sasuke wanted to prod more but her eyes narrowed at something behind him. When he glanced back, he saw Sakura stood in tiptoes as she hugged a downtrodden Naruto. If he wasn’t so sad, he would have blushed and awkwardly pushed his crush away, but for this instance, he choked back his sobs and eventually cried on her shoulder.

“Maybe the student council can also support other teams which are gearing up for nationals. You may suffer backlash if favoritism becomes obvious.”

He scoffed at Hinata’s advice. “I’ll tell our student council president that.”

Sasuke made his way to the blonde and pinkette, his arms engulfing both of their heads in a very rare hug. He felt Sakura stiffen beneath him while Naruto changed shoulders and cried openly against Sasuke’s shirt.

This he didn’t mind, as long as both of their faces were hidden from her view.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 7

#SCPS #student council president sakura #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #narusaku #uzumaki naruto #kakasaku #hatake kakashi #hinata i will redeem you soon but for now you're a menace love you

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scotianostra · 4 years

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November 18th 1870 saw what has become known as the Surgeons' Hall Riot.

This is a follow on from last weeks post regarding Sophia Jex-Blake and her friend Edith Pechey, the first to female students to be admitted to study at The University of Edinburgh.

I'd just like to get another wee story out of the way before I get on to the main one, strictly speaking these were not the first women to study medicine, the first was called Margaret Ann Bulkley- but she has a remarkable story, the University and the medical fraternity knew Miss Bulkley as a man called James Barry. Born in Cork, Ireland Barry's entire adult life was lived as a man, Barry was named Margaret Ann Bulkley at birth and was known as female in childhood. Barry lived as a man in both public and private life, at least in part in order to be accepted as a university student and pursue a career as a surgeon, with Barry's birth sex only becoming known to the public and to military colleagues after death through autopsy.

Barry had risen to the rank of Inspector General in the British army the second highest medical office, she not only improved conditions for wounded soldiers, but also the conditions of the native inhabitants, and performed the first recorded cesarean section in Africa. Her birth sex only become known to the public and to military colleagues after death through autopsy, she lived as a man for over 6 decades. I will post a link afterwards about her/hm.

Back to Jex-Blake and Pechey. After these two made history by being accepted their numbers were added to over the year, Isabel Thorne, Matilda Chaplin, Helen Evans, Mary Anderson, and Emily Bovell joined them, they are now known as The Edinburgh Seven.

From the time the first two women matriculated they had been facing consistent opposition. They had people shouting at them in the streets, had to arrange to attend different lectures at the extra-mural medical college and in October 1870 they were denied permission to ‘walk the wards’ of the Infirmary. This was a decision apparently made to protect them, because the sights and illnesses in the hospital made it a place that would be too much for a faint-hearted woman to bear. The Edinburgh Seven had faced opposition every step of the way but it all culminated in the Surgeons’ Hall Riot, which would later be remembered as a turning point not just for their case but for women’s education as a whole. It all started when they were making their way to Surgeons Hall for their anatomy exam.

When the women were approaching Surgeon’s Hall they were met with a crowd of several hundred people – the majority of which were onlookers – that was big enough to stop traffic for an hour. Their male peers, several of whom were drunk and holding whisky bottles, were gathered outside shouting verbal abuse at them, throwing rubbish at them and blocking their entrance. When they were eventually ushered in by janitors and sympathetic peers they were able to get to the exam hall. However the exam was once again disrupted by the students releasing the Royal College’s pet sheep at the time ‘Poor’ Mallie into the room. After the exam the women were escorted home by a group of sympathetic Irish students who were given the name the ‘Irish Brigade’. By this point they were already covered in mud but they were also hostilely met by more screaming and mud throwing as they left the building. Not only did the women have to endure the riot itself but in January 1871 Sophia Jex-Blake had to go to court to defend herself in a defamation case filed by Mr Craig – the student she identified as being the leader of the riot. A student who interestingly was Professor Robert Christison’s classroom assistant, who was a known opponent of the Edinburgh Seven and this supported the theory that some members of faculty were in support of the riot. Mr Craig won the trial, but he was only awarded one farthing of the thousand he initially requested. This resulted in the trial being considered a silent victory for the women, the kind of covert support which was still so rare at the time. The Surgeons’ Hall Riot was an appalling event but its shocking nature was exactly what made it such an instrumental point in the women’s fight for change. The riot gained a lot of media coverage, and a particularly notable article was that written in The Scotsman which urged “all…men…to come forward and express… their detestation of the proceedings which have characterised and dishonoured the opposition to ladies pursuing the study of medicine in Edinburgh.” Although the event was a mere culmination of the abuse and opposition they had been facing for over a year, it was able to showcase the magnitude of injustice these women were facing.In 2015 a plaque to commemorate the Edinburgh Seven as part of the Historic Scotland Scheme – and under the recommendation of one of our tutors, Jo Spiller – was put up outside Surgeons’ Hall on Nicholson Street. The plaque hangs where the Edinburgh Seven where once thrown with mud and prevented from entering an anatomy exam, and where now hundreds of female medical students walk on their way to their classes. Even though the women made it through their three year course the law disallowed them from graduating or becoming doctors.

Some of you are no doubt interested in what became of The Edinburgh Seven:

Sophia Jex-Blake had a bitter struggle, which divided the faculty and ended with her suing the University unsuccessfully in the Court of Session, she moved to Berne to qualify.

In 1889, however, largely as a result of her struggles, an Act of Parliament sanctioned degrees for women. She was one of the first female doctors in the UK. A leading campaigner for medical education for women, she was later involved in founding two medical schools for women: one in London (at a time when no other medical schools were training women) and one in Edinburgh, where she also started a women's hospital.

Edith Pechey proved her academic ability by achieving the top grade in the Chemistry exam in her first year of study, the women's abilities meant nothing, In 1873 the women had to give up the struggle to graduate at Edinburgh. One of Edith's next steps was writing to the College of Physicians in Ireland to ask them to let her take exams leading to a license in midwifery. Edith worked for a time at the Birmingham and Midland Hospital for Women then she went to the University of Bern, passed her medical exams in German at the end of January 1877 and was awarded an MD with a thesis 'Upon the constitutional causes of uterine catarrh'. Just at that time the Irish college decided to licence women doctors, and Edith passed their exams in Dublin in May

.During the next six years Edith practised medicine in Leeds, involving herself in women's health education and lecturing on a number of medical topics, including nursing. Partly in reaction to the exclusion of women by the International Medical Congress she set up the Medical Women's Federation of England and in 1882 was elected president.

Edith then spent more than 20 years in India as a senior doctor at a women's hospital and was involved in a range of social causes, following which she and her husband returned to England in 1905 and she was soon involved in the suffrage movement.

Isobel Thorne won first prize in an anatomy examination and was one of the women who re-grouped at the London School of Medicine for Women. Her diplomatic temperament meant she was a more acceptable honorary secretary on the executive (although she never actually qualified in medicine) than Sophia Jex-Blake whose nomination had threatened to stir up controversy. Thorne gave up her own ambition to be a doctor in order to commit herself to helping the school run smoothly; to become more solidly established.

An exemplary Victorian Thorne's dedication to duty and service was a precursor for the more violent campaigns of the suffragettes to achieve full enfranchisement for women.

Isabel travelled through China during the Talping Rebellion. She became convinced of the need for women to have female doctors for themselves and their children, especially women ln China and India. When the family returned to England in 1868 she started midwifery training at the Ladies Medical College, London, later describing the teaching there as inadequate.

Matilda Chaplin gained high honours in anatomy and surgery at the extramural examinations held in 1870 and 1871 at Surgeon's Hall, before a judgment in 1872 finally prohibited women students.

She also studied medicine in London and Paris and during her studies Matilda maintained connection with Edinburgh, attending some of the classes open to her there.

In 1873 Matilda obtained a certificate in midwifery from the London Obstetrics Society, the only medical qualification then obtainable by women in England, and shortly afterwards She then travelled to Japan with her husband, where she opened a school for midwives and was an author of anthropological studies. In 1879 Matilda gained the degree of M.D. at Paris, and presented as her thesis the result of her Japanese studies. She then became a licentiate of the King and Queen's College of Physicians in Ireland, and, although the only female candidate, came out first in the examination. In 1880 she lived in London, chiefly studying diseases of the eye at the Royal Free Hospital.

Helen Evan got married and did not complete her studies but her link with Edinburgh continued and she remained friends with Sophia Jex-Blake. Helen was active in promoting the care of women by women doctors. She also took a keen interest in education being "one of the first lady members of St. Andrews School Board, a position she held for 15 years". In addition to this she was a member of the council for St Leonards School for girls (now co-ed).

in 1876 her husband Alexander died suddenly from a heart attack leaving her with three children and she was unable to return to study.

When Sophia Jex-Blake began the process of founding another medical school for women in Edinburgh, Helen, with others, formed an executive committee to find suitable premises.

In 1900 and 1901 along with Miss Du Pre, Helen was a vice president of the committee of the Edinburgh Hospital and Dispensary for Women and Children, the hospital in Whitehouse Loan and the dispensary in Torphichen Place.

Mary Anderson in 1879 she received her medical doctorate from the Faculté de médecine de Paris, where she wrote her thesis on mitral stenosis and its higher frequency in women than in men. She became a senior physician at the New Hospital for Women, Marylebone. That's about all I could find on her.

Emily Bovell moved to Paris to continue her studies, when it was no longer possible to continue at Edinburgh, and eventually qualified as a doctor in Paris in 1877. The subject of her medical thesis was "Congestive Phenomena following Epileptic and Hystero-epilectic Fits"

She and her husband (physician William Allen Sturge) set up practice together in Wimpole Street, London, and Emily renewed her relationship with Queen's College, lecturing on physiology and hygiene, and running ambulance classes for ladies.

In recognition of her contribution to the medical profession, in 1880 Emily was nominated by the French Government for the "Officier d'Academie", an award very rarely conferred upon women.

The University of Edinburgh tried to right the wrongs of the past by awarding a posthumous MBChB on Saturday 6th July last year (2019). Seven present day women students accepted the degrees in their honour, as seen in the publicity pic. More on that here https://www.ed.ac.uk/edit-magazine/supplements/representing-the-edinburgh-seven

And you can read about James Barry/Margaret Ann Bulkley below. https://hekint.org/2020/04/03/a-surgeon-and-a-gentleman-the-life-of-james-barry/

#Scotland #scottsih #english #irish.#strong women #medical history #womens rights #history

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psycho-slytherin · 4 years

Text

Strangers ch. 44

You begin moving on, but Yoongi is stuck.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: fluff, angst, idk

Warnings: Strong language, I think that’s it?

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

“Idiot. What were you thinking?”

“Oh, come on. Look, it all worked out, right?”

“This wasn’t part of the plan! Now everyone knows who you are!”

“They were gonna find out anyways. I just used it to my advantage.”

“Don’t you realize how careful we have to be?”

“You. I’m safe.”

“Have you forgotten our goal? We need to destroy her.”

“Yeah, but that was so he’d be safe. Haven’t we already won?”

“Not yet. But we will.”

~~~

“C’mon, D. I know you’ve got something for me.”

“Look, man-” D huffs in frustration. “I’m sorry, but ain’t the girl you’re trying to track down dead? It’s been a good month.”

“She’s alive.” Unless the photo is old, or doctored.

“Her phone hasn’t been on in any sorta way since the day she texted your girl. I’m tryin’ to locate her but I’m hitting a lotta dead ends.”

Yoongi bites his lip anxiously. Lisa is the only hold Seoyeon has over him– and the only proof he has that she’s a criminal. If he can find Lisa, Seoyeon won’t have any more leverage and Yoongi will be able to turn her over to the police. He’ll explain everything to Y/n, and finally be set free.

But he can’t do any of that until he has Lisa.

“Yo, Gloss, hit me with that image description again?” D says over the phone. Yoongi can hear a mouse click several times as he closes his eyes, focusing on the photo in his memory. If only Seoyeon had sent it to him instead of just showing him, it might be easier.

“The walls were white. She was barefoot– her hair was short. Her hands and feet were tied.”

“What sort of knot?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, thinking hard. “I- I can’t remember. It looked tight, the rope was pressing into her wrists.”

“That’s an oof. Did she look skinny, like she hadn’t been eating?”

“I don’t know, I can’t compare. I never met her in person, I only saw Y/n’s pictures of her.” Yoongi clenches his fist, frustrated that he’s so useless.

“Hey, hey, chill, man. We’ll find her. Now, what color were her hands?”

“Her hands? Uh… skin-colored?”

“Huh.” D pauses– Yoongi’s barely used to hearing his friend not talk.

“What?”

“I mean, you said the knots were tight. You’d think it would cut off her circulation.”

“Fuck, dude, I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t looking. How is this going to help us find her?”

“I mean, I can already tell you that she’s probably not at Seoyeon’s place. There’s no way this chick can keep Lisa at her house without her family finding out, that shit’s just one story.”

“You’re kidding, she lives with her family?”

“Bruh. If she was stalking you enough to get away with what she’s done, do you really think she’d be able to keep a good enough job to afford that place? Nah, man, she lives with her folks and a sister.”

“We don’t know that she was stalking me.”

“How else did she find Y/n outside of the hospital, then? You tell me.”

Yoongi falls silent. He doesn’t want to dwell on the possibility that he so directly put Y/n into danger– it’s too destructive a thought. “Whatever. D, I really need you on this. The authorities have been useless.”

D sniggers. “Ain’t that the truth. Look, I’ve got an alert on her number and socials. If she so much as turns her phone on, or tries posting from another device, I’ll know.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, whatever, you owe me a collab.”

Yoongi grins. “Deal.” After hanging up, he sighs, leaning back in his chair. He’s been spending as much time as he can this week in his studio. Even the other members and their antics can’t lift his spirits, not when he has to answer Seoyeon’s constant summons for yet another photo op. And while he’s got her hanging onto his arm, Yoongi can think of nothing other than Y/n.

He remembers how angry he was when he found out that you’d been an ARMY all along. It seems like ages ago, and yet the sense of betrayal is fresh in his mind. He can only imagine how you’re feeling now…

~~~

“Miss L/n?”

You stand, taking the well-dressed man’s offered hand. “That’s me, hi.”

“Nice to meet you, you can call me Mr. Park. So, Avery Lee messaged me saying you’re looking to join our agency?”

You nod, fidgeting with the sleeve of your heavy coat. “Yes, until recently– well, I guess you could say I had a freelance manager. I can’t work with her anymore, and Avery said I should sign with an agency.”

“She’s right. Rising stars like you need guidance. So,” Mr. Park says, settling back into his plush leather chair and staring at you from across his desk. “Tell me about yourself. What makes you valuable to FYP Entertainment?”

You swallow. “I’m a third-year acting major at Seoul Arts University. I’ve been an active member of the theatre club and improv club, and competed in Central Seoul’s Improv Showdown twice. I was a featured extra in BTS’s Possible music video. I’ve modeled in Premier Bride Korea and for Beauty of the Seoul’s lipstick line. I recently appeared in a cologne commercial for Fierce, and I was an extra in Medicine of the Heart, a medical drama. Most notably, I play Kim Ji-Woo, a recurring character, alongside BTS’s Suga in Moon Over the Sea.”

Mr. Park rubs his chin. “That’s a long list for a pretty actress who’s never belonged to an agency. And I see an overlap– how familiar are you with Bangtan’s members?”

You fight the urge to laugh; has he not seen the tabloids? “Quite- quite familiar. We’re friends.”

“Just friends?” Mr. Park leans back. “I’ll be honest, Miss L/n, right now the only reason anyone knows your name is as Suga’s ex-girlfriend. Taking you on would be a gamble, and one I’m not sure would pay off for us. I need to know that you’re more than just a scandal– that you’ve got real talent.”

You inhale sharply, but instead of the overwhelming nervousness you were expecting, you feel only determination. They can’t hurt you anymore. “I’m talented. I’m experienced. And I’ll put in the work, sir– I always do. My relationship with Yoongi had no influence over either of my related jobs; I was scouted for the Possible video at a cafe, and Kim Seokjin was the original casting choice for Moon Over the Sea. I can’t deny that knowing Yoongi has helped my popularity, but I got my work, all of it, on my own. Sir.”

Mr. Park stares at you for a long while. “How are your grades?”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“You said you’re a student. How have you been doing in classes? I mean, all this work must keep you from school.”

“Fine,” you say hurriedly. “I, uh, haven’t let it interfere with my degree. I’m very efficient at multitasking.” A little white lie can’t hurt. You’re leaving to film in two days, you’ll check in with your professors tomorrow to make sure you’re good to go.

“That’s very admirable,” Mr. Park says. “And reassuring to hear. We like knowing our clients have the qualifications to continue in the workforce after retiring from entertainment.”

You nod, suddenly shivering at a chill you know isn’t real.

“Well, I’ve received a glowing recommendation from Avery Lee, who’s worked with us for years. You certainly have more experience than many of our new stars. And a connection, even one like yours, with a group as big as BTS could help you go far. If you, as you said, ‘put in the work’,” Mr. Park smiles briefly. “Then I’d be willing to make this particular gamble, Miss L/n. Will you sign with FYP Entertainment?”

“I-” Yes! “I’d have to look at the contract first, Mr. Park. I’m sure we can negotiate a good outcome, and I’m very optimistic about my future with this agency.”

Mr. Park chuckles. “I see you know how to play the game. Your email is on the form you gave to my assistant– I’ll have her send you the contract today. And, Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I’d stay in touch with those boys– maybe not Yoongi, if your relationship ended badly, but… They have more power than any of us know. If you really want to get big, stick with BTS.”

You furrow your brow. Now that you think about it, it’s been a minute since your last dinner together– after all, you were meant to see them on the night you found out about Lisa’s disappearance. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When you leave the office, you pull out your phone and call Hoseok.

“Yyyyyyellow?”

“Hobi, it’s me.”

“Y/n?” Hoseok’s voice changes. “Uh, what can I do for you?”

“Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to have a Bangtan plus-one dinner again? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, um… What about Yoongi hyung?”

You feel a vague burning inside your chest. “He’s invited too, if he’s not busy with his new girlfriend. Our relationship was fake, remember?”

“Ah, yeah, right. How about tonight, then? Come over, Seokjin hyung’s making a souffle for dessert. We can hit a few clubs later? There’s some that are VIP enough that we can be safe.”

You laugh; Hoseok is so good at making you feel relaxed. Still, you don’t know if you’re hoping Yoongi does or doesn’t show. Either way– “That sounds excellent. See you tonight!”

~~~

"What do you want?” Yoongi growls into his phone.

“Don’t sound so grumpy, sweetheart.” Seoyeon’s voice in his ear is like poison. “I just wanted to let you know we’re going out tonight.”

“I have plans.”

Seoyeon giggles, far too happily for such a sadist. “Oh, but Suga-bear, you don’t have a choice! Let’s meet at Club Xyon at ten, okay?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re so silly! See you then. Oh,” Seoyeon’s voice turns dark. “And don’t forget what happens if you don’t show.”

A/N tysm for reading!!! <3

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fortworthcommercialrealestate · 3 years

Text

Industrial Real Estate, A Profession - How Do You Get Into It?

Several several years back, I was attending a Society of Industrial Realtors Yearly Spring Conference in Maui. My spouse had accompanied me on the vacation so that we could also do a whole lot of sightseeing. Colliers Global, a 241 business office globally company, sponsored its personal firm cocktail get together the night time before the Meeting officially began and my spouse and I attended the celebration. A limited even though into introductions, a fellow came in from the golf training course and he sat down at our desk. Andrew Friedlander released himself an we reviewed our residence in Philadelphia, his first property in Brooklyn and his new residence in Honolulu. As to how he ended up in Hawaii,Fort Worth Commercial Real Estate Andrew advised us that on R&R during his excursions in the Army in Vietnam, he decided to get a break in Hawaii after he was concluded his last duty tour. He rented an condominium, waited tables, washed automobiles, and so on. to have some extra income. He mentioned that he compensated his apartment hire to an more mature man who came all around after a thirty day period and he last but not least requested the man whether or not that was his company. Andrew explained that he never ever considered about home management as a enterprise, but the more he spoke to the guy the far more that he recognized how assorted a organization business real estate could be, specifically in Hawaii. The rental agent began to show Andrew the basics of the company and Andrew determined not to return to Brooklyn. Forty many years afterwards, Andrew is the supervisor of about 6 Colliers Intercontinental offices in Hawaii with in excess of forty brokers and salespeople as his obligation. Aside from selling and leasing industrial genuine estate and classic brokerage transactions through the islands, Andrew's staff is included in all of the other facets of business and industrial actual estate. As one particular concierge individual instructed my wife and I although we ended up touring there, "Of course, it is a excellent spot, now in which would you ever believe of transferring to when you are below." In the earlier yr, a youthful Army Captain and pal named me from Hawaii. He and his wife have been having in some R&R right after his previous duty tour and he named to inquire me for some guidance on industrial true estate firms. I gave him Andrews mobile phone amount after I checked with Andrew on his availability. Andrew dealt with my friend to lunch and launched him to Colliers' business in the islands. As it turned out, my pal and his wife made the decision later to relocate to Florida to be closer to their mothers and fathers. Our Colliers office in Ft. Lauderdale was anxious to interview him and did so. He discovered a greater fit for a concentration in place of work brokerage with yet another company, but I consider that it is distinct that possibilities do exist with major corporations for somebody who has an curiosity, who can show that they are self determined and whose comportment (manners, speech, individual grooming, business attire) are all optimistic. A extended time buddy informed me a single evening soon after we and our wives checked in, extremely late, at a resort owned by a properly identified resort team, "That desk clerk is the particular person representing this hotel business to its buyers and I know the CEO. That clerk's slight rudeness towards us does not at all depict what their CEO desires his company to be identified for in their business. He will need to learn that if he is going to be a lot more than the late night clerk." I point out this simply because a organization such as Colliers or any of its rivals must ensure that a salesperson or broker 1st assembly a prospective buyer correctly signifies the company's image. So considerably income is invested defining that picture to the business local community that each person, such as all staff, should replicate that hard work. In any other case, a likely client will pick to employ the service of a competitor whose act is with each other. My knowing is that buyer relation training at Wal-Mart is fairly powerful for all staff. I would believe that any key restaurant chain has in location a extensive system for workers instruction and it might spend to notice whether or not if the customer is not always appropriate at an establishment how the workers man or woman handles a buyer who is being a bit certain. two. Entry I use Andrew's tale as an example of the prospect that professional true estate offers. A senior enterprise mentor and very good buddy of mine advised me in Florida in 1971, just at the starting of that economic downturn, that commercial genuine estate offered an opportunity to enter a company without having getting my very own money to invest other than my time and power, and, with no limit on the size of transactions that could be place collectively. We discussed this in relation to my likely back again to legislation faculty. His view was that it was practically a "sky is the restrict" strategy, but with some basic perception to it. I had carried out a number of fiscal reports on possible discounts supplied to him. I also handed more than that 12 months, at my mentor's instruction, a $300k commission verify to a broker who he had utilized to buy a home that he had settled on the calendar year prior to that. The following calendar year, at the same time, I handed in excess of the same check out to that broker as the next half of that commission to that broker. You should understand that in 1972 that commission amount in the onset of that economic downturn was a considerable amount of money for any transaction. Every single condition has its own restrictions for licensure. Florida needed a man or woman to just take a product sales licensing course, move that, then work in a licensed true estate broker's place of work for a least of two many years before being suitable to take a point out broker's exam. The product sales course is presented by many private corporations and faculties, evening courses in distinct. The value of the training course is minimum. The standard abilities for studying, composing and math portions are not hard. Dependent upon your educational qualifications, commercial actual estate companies might typically supply to give the training course. More compact, much more generalized, brokerage companies might also do the very same in order to acquire a salesperson. There generally is a recognized "culture" or company status acknowledged for a true estate firm in any neighborhood, The neighborhood can be nearby, regional or nationwide. It pays to do your research as to which company appears to go well with your style. The internet is certainly 1 of the most productive resources for finding a firm's background, its places of skills, personnel, and its successes. Identify that key metropolitan commercial firms typically outsource consumer demands in an outlying spot to a more compact professional organization in that spot instead than demanding a single of their main place of work brokers to commit to vacation time. Consequently, if you are in a rural marketplace outside or in between major metropolitan marketplaces, you must look into which real estate companies have people relationships for the bigger offers. Your time for success beginning in professional real estate (specifically with out capital) will be the outcome of what you place into it. I had the choice in the early '70's of returning to law university and ending. What I understood most was that I liked currently being out of an workplace and "on the street." My attorney buddies in Ft. Lauderdale have been paying innumerable several hours, as essential, in their places of work to publish briefs, draft files, etc., all of which that profession demands. My selection was to place in the exact same hrs on professional true estate that I would have to place in for any regulation practice. If it worked, then wonderful, if not I would go back to school. Business Name: Fort Worth Commercial Real Estate King, eXp Realt Phone Number: +17608089588

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sarasmallmanwrites · 4 years

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A-Level Playing Field

Nobody wanted my opinion on this, but it’s hard growing up poor.

1988. It’s that damp kind of evening outside, clouded by condensation on the single glazed windows, and the smoke from my Nan’s Benson and Hedges. We’ve just had tea – this is North, of course – and everything is accompanied by slices of springy bread heavily lacquered in ‘soft spread’. The gold foiled butter is, usually, saved for my grandad, who works at a fibreglass factory. It’s a very long way away (actually 3.7 miles) and he leaves on his bike every evening with three rounds of tinned ham sandwiches in his bag. Tonight, my mum is out until half nine, working in the care home in the next town, picking me up at ten-ish, depending on how fast she walks. My mum is 27. Five years out of a loveless marriage, living in a council house, she has no qualifications but is working for her City and Guilds and her English ‘O-Level’, GCSEs haven’t hit our vocabulary yet, and won’t until my second cousin Mark does his two years later.

Tonight is Thursday. Nan goes out on a Thursday, which means she will leave the house at half seven in a haze of Vitapoint, Elnett and Lily of the Valley, to play Bingo at the local club. I am being looked after by Alan, my mum’s younger brother, living at home, working in the Mill that overlooks the town below like a stern Victorian overseer. He’s always grumpy, stuck in a town that has no opportunities, and no visible exit. The eighties have been cruel to young, working-class men. The vehement cry of ‘get the fuck out’ hasn’t reached our town but will do in eight years time, on a wave of Britpop, New Labour, cigarettes, and alcohol.

My uncle looks to the television for nightly escape. Thursday is Blackadder, it’s Not The Nine O’Clock News, it’s Comic Strip, it’s A Bit of Fry and Laurie, it’s Red Dwarf, it’s shipwrecked and comatose, and me engrossed on the couch, not sipping mango juice, but milky tea (the North!), as my uncle laughs his head off in between cigarettes. My mum returns, smelling like TCP and the outside, with salty, vinegary chips, and we eat them as we walk the newly tarmacked paths under the orange street lights. I ask her what a goldfish shoal is. She tells me to shush.

I decided that weekend that I wanted to be funny. I mean I could make people laugh when I did my Cilla Black impression, so surely that was a start, and thank to Carry On films I was brilliant at ‘Infamy, Infamy!’, I knew this because my grandad (the cleverest man I knew) had told me so. Even though I was only in Junior One, I knew that you had to be taught how to be funny, that there was definitely some kind of class that you would have to take to learn it, because I had never really been a natural at anything; apart from whistling, which I did with gusto in shrill, high- pitched tones wherever I could.

I read a lot, especially the paper – particularly the Daily Mirror, which probably explains why I am always heavily weighted to the left, and not just because of my ineptitude in heels – and found out that Hugh Laurie, who is obviously the funniest man I have ever encountered, went to Cambridge and was in something called ‘The Footlights’. Then was it, I decided. I was going to go to Cambridge and join ‘The Footlights’ and be funny like Victoria Wood and Dawn French. I imagine ‘The Footlights’ to be a rag-tag theatrical group living on their wits, humour, and more importantly, Pot Noodles. I tell my Grandad that I want to go to Cambridge. He tells me not to be daft.

Now, when I think about it, wanting to go to Cambridge was not a preposterous idea for any child at the age of seven; you are at the start of your education journey. There is plenty of time to get better at things, to practice, to be coached, to improve yourself; but for a working-class girl, who would eventually be the first member of her family to go to university, I might as well have said that I wanted to fly to Mars on fairy wings. But, children who attend private schools are told from the age of four that Oxford or Cambridge are the end goals for their education, with any of the higher-performing Russell Group universities being something that they could settle for, at a push. I didn’t even know what a Russell Group University was until about three years ago, and why would I? For me, in my small artsy primary school with forty children across four year groups, a dismissive attitude towards formal English education, and a liberal fancy for devoting the whole of the summer term to the end of year show, this was not something that was even thought about. Oxford and Cambridge were places printed on the back of books, they weren’t places that you went to university. In fact, most of my primary school teachers hadn’t even been to university but received their qualifications at the local teacher training college; the only exception is a brown jumpered gentleman with a penchant for using cupboards as a disciplinary technique.

We’ll skip forward a few years later, and high school is a vigorous mixing bowl of talents, it takes until at least year nine before anyone even notices who I am amongst the squall of kids churning about in KS3. Dinner is pink sausage meat wrapped in a translucent puff pastry duvet, a treat even on the hottest days when the fat sticks to your lips; and the terms pass in a haze of cheap cider (the kind that tastes like sick), the floral pout of Cherry Lypsyl, and Chris Evans on the Radio One Breakfast Show; who is hastily snoozed every morning before I smell the lukewarm coffee my mum has left by my bed before she goes to work. At this point my mum is a newly qualified nurse at the hospice two towns over, her fingers raw from hand sanitiser, but with rolls of antiseptic scented micropore tape that I use for a cacophony of projects. She is on nights right now, spooning gravelly granules of instant coffee into a mug, blurry from sleep, I am cobbling together a mask out of old Cornflake packets, stuck together with nursing supplies and painted with nail varnish that went past its best around the same time as the Thompson Twins. It is 1995, and the country feels like it is on the cusp of something. I don’t know what, but I’m looking forward to the Year 2000 because I will be fully grown. Well, nineteen.

But what about Oxbridge? Well, for starters, if you attend a state school you have to be so immediately impressive to your teachers that they discuss you in the staffroom. It’s not enough to be good at one particular thing, you have to excel across the board. You have to be so amazingly shiny, that even the most jaded teacher in the school cannot fail to be dazzled by your brightness. For state school kids, Oxbridge is not something that they suggest to the average 10 A*-C kids, it’s not something that they even dangle in front of 10 A*-B kids who are pretty good. At state school, you have to be exceptional for your teachers to even consider you as a candidate, and then you have to achieve enough A*s in your GCSEs that you might as well open a Planetarium. Even then, all they can really do is say ‘I think you could go to Oxford or Cambridge, you know’, or flag you up to the local authority careers service as ‘potential Oxbridge’. There is no Oxford Fast Track programme in state schools, even for exceptional kids.

In a recent social media fracas, one lady proclaimed that if you gave kids a level playing field then poor kids would always triumph because they were more resilient - all those Crispy Pancakes, surely? But for children from a working-class background, we’re not even on the playing field yet; we have to borrow trainers with non-marking soles, scrape around for a quid for the bus. By the time we get to the playing field, we have already been running around for half the day trying to get there, we miss the warm-up because we were late and, honestly, by this point, we’re just knackered because we’ve had to work so much harder just to get there in the first place.

The warm-up is a given to those whose parents have been able to pay for their education – they even get complimentary orange slices for afterwards, just for extra pep and vigour. There are Oxbridge prep classes, extracurricular activities slanted towards the Oxbridge admissions interviews, and chances to take unpaid internships during the summer using family connections. It’s not just that though... it’s little things like knowing it’s pronounced ‘Barkshire’, not Berkshire, it’s when you use a napkin, it’s spending a week skiing at Courchevel. It’s olives.

In 1998, I don’t know any of these things and, even if I did, my accent with its flat vowels and its Lancashire intonation would give me away in a heartbeat, because I sound like I’ve fallen off a pit pony on my way back t’mill. Things change quickly though. My mum has a baby. A screaming, mewling little boy born during The Simpsons on a Friday evening in October. Now there is absolutely no money for luxuries, and when our TV gets nicked, we end up using the small portable from upstairs. My Nan lends me money here and there to get to college, but it only covers the bus fare, and the small endowment that I receive - supposedly to cover driving lessons - gets swallowed up with everyday things that seventeen-year olds shouldn’t have to pay for. I’m working for 4 hours a week in Woolies too, £3.10 p/h to stand around the toy department in a slippery polyester blouse the colour of synthetic mint ice cream, before skulking off to the bookshop to spend that money on things for college. Nothing fancy but, by this point, I am well on my way to being a ‘Funny Girl’, studying a raft of ‘arty-farty’ A-Levels and English thrown in for good measure. The Cambridge Footlights hardly crosses my mind anymore, because Oxford and Cambridge are reserved for the kids doing the hard sciences, maths, law, politics, things that you need a calculator for. You don’t get into Oxford with A-Levels in Theatre Studies, Media, and Performing Arts, despite what they tell you about diversity.

Oxford or Cambridge do not offer a typical British university experience, and how can teachers who have never passed through the rigorous and exhausting Oxbridge admissions procedure be expected to offer any kind of advantage to their gifted and talented students? If you are a working-class parent relying on underfunded, underpaid and overworked FE lecturers to help coach your child through this, then you are immediately on the backfoot compared to a child whose parents can afford private tutors, admissions booklets, and interview coaches. This is no reflection on sixth form teachers in FE establishments across the country, who do all they can to nurture the kids with Oxbridge potential, but when some classes haven’t received new textbooks for two years, where students are encouraged to photocopy their own materials to save costs, you can see where the class difference begins to draw attention to itself without the need for neon yellow highlighters.

My UCAS book arrived in September; an impressive, thinly papered tome with a glossy black and white cover, University Colleges and Admission Services stamped across it in orange. It smells like a cross between the Argos catalogue and a phone book, which I feel is rather apt given that it contains the codes of institutions and courses that will break me out of this godforsaken town: a cypher that I etch out on the application form in black biro.

London

Southampton

Buckinghamshire

Preston

Liverpool

Manchester.

I don’t want to go to any of the bottom three, of course, far too close to where I came from to be relevant. My second cousin Mark’s stint at Sheffield Hallam seemed to be an excuse for his mum to visit his ‘digs’ once a month with catering sized tins of Nescafe, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t quite looking forward to edging the lid off with a knife and stabbing through that ridged foil. My mum writes a cheque out in her secondary modern handwriting, crossing her fingers that they won’t cash it until after payday.

The discrepancies between low-income working-class families and those with a better income also show here too - this can be something as simple as slow internet connection, not having a working laptop and doing work on smartphones, access to transport, costs for travel to visit universities. Things like this are not included when factoring in costs for students from low income. How can you visit all the different university campuses, with all the travel costs and maybe even overnight accommodation, when your parents can barely afford to keep the lights on? There was only one institution that I wanted to go to. London Institute, a glamourous collection of art colleges that included the London College of Fashion, Central St Martins, and, more importantly for me, The London College of Printing. The competition was fierce, but I was shortlisted for an interview in the capital with a former editor of the Daily Mirror. My house was showered in happy expletives that day. Even in 1999, tickets from Wigan to London were over £50 for a pre-booked return. My mum cashed in all of her Clubcard points for the ticket. But, just for me, because she hadn’t bought enough milk to cover the cost of two tickets. However, I must have impressed Tony Delano in that office in Clerkenwell, because he gave me an amazingly lowball offer meaning that my A-level results became a terribly graded self-fulfilling prophecy.

Oxford is different from usual universities in that there are colleges, thirty-nine in total. You might have seen them on University Challenge – Balliol, Trinity, Emmanuel, Brasenose – or from reading the Wikipedia pages of any of our last three Prime Ministers, including the incumbent Boris Johnson, who graduated with a 2:1 in 1987. That’s the other thing – you don’t study something at Oxford, you read it – you don’t start your studies, you matriculate, for which you need a robe. Now, I have been told by helpful and obstinate alumni via social media that Matriculation Robes are £25, ex-hire. However, I have also been told by a current Oxford student that the robe cost is £50 minimum, and no-one would dare wear a secondhand robe as ‘everyone would know’. It’s immediately singling yourself out as a Weasley in a room filled with Malfoys.

The accommodation costs are comparable to London prices; however, this does not cover the Christmas break, which means everything needs to be packed up and stored. Not only do you pay for the storage, but you pay for the boxes too. Much to my disappointment, no-one nips out for a Pot Noodle either, students are expected to dine ‘in hall’ (again, more cost!) where you can choose between an informal and a formal sitting – where your gown is required. I imagine for a working-class kid attending Oxford or Cambridge is very much like cosplaying on a Harry Potter set, but without the magic of a bottomless purse. There are balls too at the end of each term, formal affairs with ticket prices over £50. Again, said the former alumni, you don’t have to go! It’s not obligatory!

But let me tell you a harsh reality. Nothing ostracises a poor kid more than not being able to join in because they can’t afford it. Nothing. And we might have great friends who would all chip in and pay for our ticket, or lend us the money, but there is something very working-class about not wanting people to know that we can’t afford it. Surely we should not be asking these young adults who have studied and worked against all odds, to have a second class university experience because they know their parents won’t be able to help. You can’t even get a job to supplement your income either; the majority of colleges stipulate this, and as someone who had to work two term-time jobs at a much less prestigious university to live (even with the glorious student overdrafts of pre-austerity Britain), this really hit home at how much I would have struggled financially if I had gone to either of these institutions.

Recently my daughter applied for university. We get in the car and visit a university each week, driving miles up and down and across the country. We fight over choices and analyse each course based on employability, and whether or not she would like it. The process is completed in clicks and feels much more clinical than twenty years earlier, but rather than heading into unchartered waters, I have a map. It might be old and tattered, but I have a much better idea of where we are going now. My daughter believes that the meritocracy is a lie, and she tells me this in sharp, pointed tones as we receive her A-level results on a rainy Thursday morning. She goes to University in September and spends the autumn sending me videos of the Minster, or tutorials on how to swear in Japanese. She is only the second person in our family to continue on to higher education. I don’t just mean in her generation. I mean in total. We are the exception, not the rule.

One of the first questions someone at Oxford was asked by a fellow student last year was ‘private or state’, she replied ‘private’ and was met with a smile. There was no need to ask who the state school entrant was, as she queried the partridge and asparagus served for dinner – ‘this chicken is tough. Is that grass?’- and arrived for the formal sitting with her gown covering a denim skirt and shimmery top underneath. Private school teaches these things, no desperate faux pas for Isobel or Jeremy, whereas state schools do not have the resources or the knowledge to run classes on etiquette for the small number of their students that make it through the intense application procedures. This is not saying that low-income children should be discouraged – not at all – instead, it is saying that there is something inherently wrong with the system. At private school, you are disappointed if you don’t get into Oxbridge, whereas the state school child who gets in is an extraordinary anomaly talked about for years in hushed tones of reverence by the faculty.

And this is the issue with saying that children are on a level playing field, that everyone is measured on their own merit; because it is not true. For children on very low incomes, the odds are unfairly stacked against them, and the issues such as 2020’s disastrous A-Level results just add more bricks to an already near-insurmountable wall.

#opinion #exams #growinguppoor #lowincome #councilestate #councilestatekids #alevels #nineties #Oxbridge

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tim-stonker · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, mentioned Georgie Barker/Melanie King Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Elias Bouchard, Melanie King, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, mentioned Basira Hussain, im sorry queen it was a 5+1 and u were number 6 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, more like AU elias isnt a bitch, 5 Times, Mutual Pining, implied Nonbinar Jonathan Sims, he's gnc, Getting Together, Comfort No Hurt, bc we need that, Just Pals Being Soft, dimples as a plot point Summary:

5 times people didn't see jon's smile plus the 1 time someone did

i wrote some gay shit about jon smiling and it became this. whole thing is under the cut, check it out on ao3 if u wanna !

-5

Jonathan Sims was an unexpected candidate for the position of Archivist, following Gertrude Robinson’s rather abrupt retirement (Elias still wasn’t sure if she was actually telling the truth when she said she wanted to spend more time travelling with her grandson. He didn’t even know if she actually had a grandson.) When word got out that there was an opening for head archivist, it surprised both Elias and Jon’s manager when he put his application into the pool. While Jon wasn’t the highest position in Research, he wasn’t at the lowest tier either, and everyone knew that being Head Archivist was much like being the mayor of a ghost town. Sure, you had a fancy title, but not much else. The Archives were in the basement, they were cold and dusty, and typically, if a budget needed to be cut, it was the Archives that took the brunt of the slashes. But, Jon was organized, faked his confidence well enough, was willing to put in the work, and, if Elias was being honest with himself, there wasn’t exactly a queue out the door to take over the vacancy that Gertrude left.

The interview went well enough, though Jon was clearly filled with nervous excitement. He kept reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear - it was too short to stay in place, but much too long to not be a bother. His voice almost echoed in Elias’ office, strong and precise, even when he struggled with some questions that Elias asked about his strengths and weaknesses. Elias appreciated the way that Jon carried himself, the slight aura of grandeur and pride that he seemed to give off, contrasting starkly with his awkward attempts at being personable.

Though Elias told Jon that he’ll be in touch within a few days to inform him whether or not he’ll be transferred to the Archives, he’s already certain that there’s no better candidate, and, if nothing else, he loathes having new hires from outside the Institute. He can overlook a few missing qualifications if it means he can cut down on the number of interviews he has to conduct.

Elias waited a few more days, finished up more interviews, and found his suspicions were correct. Jon - despite the roughness around his edges, and his lack of a library sciences degree (an aspect that makes Rosie raise her eyebrows at Elias when he mentions it) - is the best fit for the archives that Elias has. He calls Jon into his office again, watching as Jon delicately maneuvers into the chair on the other side of Elias’s desk, fingers picking at the sleeves of his cardigan.

“I’m happy to tell you, Jonathan, that after much consideration, that you have been promoted to Head Archivist. Your transfer from the Research department will be put through promptly, and - unless you have any objections - you can begin your new role as soon as next Monday. Congratulations.”

As Elias spoke, he watched as Jon’s eyes widened, eyebrows raise, as the tension melted out of his shoulders. The corners of his lips seemed to flicker, wanting to curl upwards, but not quite able to.

“I, oh, wow. Thank you, Elias. I, uh, I’m really excited to be working in the Archives.” Jon stammered out. His voice had less of the confident bravado that it had during his interview, and while that would usually make Elias reconsider his choice, the fact that all of Jon’s nervous ticks seemed to have disappeared sated his concern.

Elias nodded, hummed, and launched into the less fun aspect of promotion, namely discussion of new contracts, pay raises, the fact that Jon would be able to ask some of his co-workers to become his assistants, but any vacancies will be filled at Elias’s discretion. Jon nodded along and asked the appropriate questions at the right time.

Perhaps he’s just bad at expressing emotions, Elias thought, though the thought is both fleeting and insignificant. It gets pushed out of the way, quickly, and is discarded, not to be thought again.

When the meeting was over, Elias stood up to show Jon to the door. Just before Jon left, Elias stuck his hand out, and once again said, “Congratulations, Jon.”

Jon looked startled for a second, before reaching out and giving Elias a hearty handshake.

“Thank you, Elias, really,” Jon replied. While saying that, the corner of his mouth twitched once again, and for a moment, Jon’s face began to break out into a smile. Eyes excited and bright, before he schooled his expression back into one of vaguely happy neutrality.

Elias released Jon’s hand, and when his office was once again empty of everyone except himself, he briefly wondered why anyone cares enough about smiling to prevent themselves from doing it.

Like most intrapersonal thoughts, though, Elias waved it away, going back to his own work, just glad that he didn’t have to get Rosie to put up any more job listings on Linkedin.

-4

Tim was surprised when Jon approached him with the job offer. Sure, he and Jon had worked together for a few years and Jon frequently complimented Tim on his work and whenever Jon actually showed up to work get-togethers, he seemed to awkwardly stick to Tim’s side like glue until the event was done. But Jon always declined Tim’s invites to non-work social gatherings, and sometimes it was hard to tell if the snark in Jon’s voice came from malice or…. Something else.

Tim had chalked all that up to awkwardness or to Jon’s work ethic, but for some reason, he never thought that Jon actually considered Tim to be a friend, even though he did tentatively think of Jon as one. So it was rather shocking when Jon marched up to him, a small stack of papers in his hands at the end of the workday, and announced,

“I’ve been promoted to Head Archivist.”

“Oh, well, congrats, Jon,” Tim said, smiling. He clapped Jon on the shoulder. “Yeah, I heard you put your application in.” Tim didn’t mention that he heard because some of their co-workers were making jokes about hoping to see the last of Jon, with his insane work ethic and snappish remarks.

Jon nodded. “I’m also allowed to pick my own assistants since many of Gertrude’s have quit or been reassigned since her absence.”

“That’s cool.”

“I was wondering if you would like to join me in the Archives, Tim.”

“Oh,” Tim said, eyes widening. Jon looked straight at him, unflinching, though his hands were curled into tight balls at his sides. This was certainly unexpected.

“I think we work well together. You do really good work, and while I’m not exactly sure what… extra work transferring to the archives will entail, I’m that your presence will be beneficial.” Finally, Jon broke Tim’s gaze. “Also, I… quite enjoy your company.”

“Wow, well, thank you, Jon,” Tim managed to stammer out. He looked at Jon’s now sheepish expression and how his cheeks had taken on a slightly red tinge from the honesty. “Uh, can I… think about it? For a few days? It’s just… kind of a big change.”

“Oh, of course, Tim,” Jon nodded earnestly, passing Tim the stack of papers, which Tim now saw as a would-be employment contract, with different sections highlighted, presumably the parts that Jon thought Tim would find important. Jon made like he was about to turn to leave before he paused and said, “Also I. I won’t be offended if you decide to stay put.”

“Oh, I know,” Tim said, even though he wasn’t sure why he knew. Jon nodded again.

“Well, see you tomorrow.” And with that and a brief wave, Jon walked away, leaving Tim to stare at the employment papers and to think about what to do. And Tim did consider it. He had a pretty good thing going on in the Research department. He was well-liked, and many of his managers said that he could probably get promoted to a higher position with a better salary in a few years, and though the entry position of archival assistant was better paying than his current gig, Tim knew he was never going to get promoted from that role.

Tim had friends in Research, but he also had friends in artifacts, and finance, and HR. The more he thought about it, it wasn’t like his work-social life would end if he went to the basement. And, as much as his co-workers liked to poke fun at Jon, Tim did genuinely enjoy his company. He liked his wit, and snark, and the way he tried to play off his awkwardness and usually failed. And despite his somewhat clumsy attempts at socializing, anytime Tim talked about his life outside of work, Jon listened, made jokes, and was friendly.

Jon was also quite easy on the eyes, in his own strange way.

Tim found it wasn’t really much of a hard decision after all. So when he walked into work the next day and tossed the signed contract on Jon’s desk, all he said was, “It better not be as dusty as everyone says it is.”

Before walking off to his own desk to finish up his own projects, for a moment he thought he saw Jon duck his head to smile. But when he looked back, Jon was just holding the contract, and though his eyes were happy, his face was straight.

-3

Sasha enjoyed her work as an archival assistant, despite all the dust, and Jon’s moodiness, and the strange errands that the statements sent everyone on. It was an unorthodox job, cleaning up the decades of bizarre filing that Gertrude left, hunting down follow-ups from people who were clearly drunk, sick, or delirious at the time that these ‘occurrences’, well, occurred.

She certainly enjoyed her co-workers, basement dwellers that they were. While archives and research had many employees and had been on floors where different departments mingled, the four of them - Tim, Sasha, Martin, and Jon - were stuck down in the cool basement, surrounded by files, and books, and old foundation. While she had been on amicable terms with Tim before, the forced proximity brought them much closer, and she was happy to meet and befriend Martin. Pretty quickly the three of them began to go out for drinks after work, plan dinners, and movie nights, and get-togethers on weekends. They sometimes invited Jon, but the answer was also unanimously no.

Still, despite Jon’s rebuffs at having a social life, Sasha always felt like her relationship with him was… different than the others. While Tim and Jon had prior acquaintanceship, Sasha only briefly knew Jon in research; and Jon was either oblivious or blatantly ignoring Martin’s crush on him, rebuffing his attempts of flirting and courtship with harsh words and mumbled, unfocused ‘thank yous’ when Martin brought him tea.

It surprised her how highly Jon thought of her, and how well they got on.

“Here’s that statement you were after,” Sasha said, after knocking on Jon’s office door. Jon turned in his chair to face her, hand outreached to take the folder when she got close enough.

“Thank you, Sasha,” Jon said, as he grasped the folder. Sasha nodded and was about to let go when she glanced down and saw Jon’s hand.

“Is that nail polish?” She asked suddenly, voice coming out more accusatory than she intended. Jon snatched the folder away from her, curling his fingers into his palms as soon as the paper hit the desk surface. He still wore his face of neutrality, but his jaw was tense. Sasha was surprised at how defensive, and how quickly, Jon reacted to the question, but immediately saw she needed to remedy it. She quickly added, “It looks nice.”

As soon as the compliment was said, Jon seemed to relax a bit. His jaw unclenched and slowly he unfurled his fingers. His nails were a simple black, though it was a messy job and they were already chipping.

“Oh, thank you.” He said softly.

“Did you do them yourself?” Sasha asked, even though she couldn’t imagine Jon asking for help to do his nails.

“Yes, er. As a child, I always wanted to paint my nails but I couldn’t, so.” He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “They’re not very good, are they?”

Sasha shrugged. “Pretty good for a first time, though. Next time you’ll want to push your cuticles back first, and you should probably get a varnish too. It’ll stop them from chipping so much.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Sasha,” Jon said, clearly not expecting advice. Sasha gave one last nod, and a, “No problem.” before leaving Jon’s office.

After that - or maybe Sasha just noticed it more afterwards - Jon seemed to come to work ‘prettied up’ more often. He seemed to listen to her nail advice, and while he often sported plain, black nails - sans chipping, thanks to the nice clear coat he put on - a few times he came into work with blue, or red, or green nails. While Martin and Tim always complimented them, if they noticed, Jon began going up to Sasha to show her every fresh set. Often it would be a week or two between appearances; Jon seemed to just let the previous coat chip off completely before repainting them, approaching Sasha with his hands curled in a way so that he could view his own nails before showing them off to her. Sasha always made sure that she seemed excited to see them, even if they weren’t always that good. The way that Jon seemed to loosen after every compliment, the way his face would soften just a tad made it worth it.

Soon it became their little routine, even as Jon’s habits changed. While it started with nails, soon Jon would awkwardly approach her to show off the fancy braid he just learned how to do with his growing hair. Often, they were messy and uneven, large strands falling out of the cheap hair ties, but Sasha would say it was nice, before offering to fix it for him. Jon always declined, disappearing into his office and coming out later, braid abandoned and hair in its usual neat bun, but Sasha always offered. For a while, Jon had taken to looking at the clothes Sasha came to work in, awkwardly complimenting her on whatever coat or blouse or shoes she had worn. It took Sasha a few times to realize what he was saying - or at least thinking.

“I like your skirt,” Jon mumbled one day, as he and Sasha walked into the archives. “It’s very pretty.”

Sasha hummed, looking down at it. It wasn’t anything fantastic, just a black a-line skirt with a vaguely plaid pattern, long enough to be work-appropriate without annoying her. She mostly wore it because the growing pile of dirty laundry in her flat left her few other options.

“Thank you, Jon,” she replied, before pursing her lips. “You know, I think you would look quite nice in a skirt.”

A bold move, Sasha knew, but after Jon sputtered for a moment, he managed to choke out, “You… you do?”

“Oh, yes. You got nice, slender legs, and if one a little longer it would just add to the frumpy librarian look quite nicely.” Sasha laughed a little, unable to resist the urge to tease a little. Jon gave a polite chuckle and nodded.

They repeated this process a few more times, over a few weeks. Jon would give Sasha a sincere, if not a bit bumbling compliment on her wardrobe or appearance (often for items Sasha did not care for that much) and after thanking him, she would flip it around and say, “I think this lipgloss colour would suit you better than me” or " a blouse like this would make your collarbones look good” or even being as bold as saying “You should get a dress like it, then we can match.”

Jon would brush the comments off with a laugh or a denial, but Sasha could see the wheels in his head-turning, the way he would occasionally look at whatever pair of pants he was wearing that day and frown.

Eventually, Sasha’s hard and not-so-subtle work paid off when she saw Jon shuffle into the archives, not in his usual attire of plain cardigan and button-up, tucked into a pair of boring pants, but with a new look: a cardigan and plain button-up tucked into a shockingly boring skirt. It suited him, though; the long grey fabric skimming his ankles, the way it would flow behind and the way his feet would kick it in front. Jon’s fingers seemed to be absent-mindedly twisting themselves into the fabric, as he made his way towards his office.

Sasha was right; Jon did rock the frumpy librarian look.

“Good morning, Jon,” Sasha greeted, cheerfully. Jon looked up.

“Morning, Sasha.”

“New wardrobe?” She asked, nodding at his outfit. Jon seemed to falter a little, standing still, waiting for her assessment. “I like it! Really suits you.”

And while that was a bit of a lie - Sasha found it to be a bit boring, and she would never have even considered buying herself, though it did quite Jon wonderfully - Sasha couldn’t bring herself to feel the least bit bad, when she heard Jon mutter a soft, “Thank you,” before hurrying to his office. For a split second, Sasha would have sworn that his lips were pulled into a smile, thought for a moment she saw a flash of his teeth, but he was opening and closing his office door before she could confirm.

-2

Despite all her grumbling, thrown insults, and jabs, Melanie didn’t actually dislike Jon. Well, no, she did dislike him, immensely. He’s smug, and rude, and has a know-it-all attitude, and he absolutely did not take her show seriously. But, behind all of that, he respected her abilities and her competence, if not the way that she uses it. She thought of it like she wouldn’t want anything to hurt Jon unless it was her giving him a good slap around the head.

Still, when she ended up hanging around the Archives more - and shockingly, no one, not even Jon, tried to stop her - after her show fell apart and took most of her professional network with it, she’s surprised how much common ground she shares with Jon. At first, they needed someone else in the room with them, to grease the wheels of conversation - either Sasha siding with Melanie every once in a while, or a well-timed joke from Tim, or Martin’s placating tone - but every time they found themselves able to stand each other without any assistance, even starting their own conversation. Without her show, with its staged dramatics and clickbait titles to feed Jon’s antagonisms, they find that they have similar opinions and histories with the supernatural.

“Most statements and stories are completely false,” Jon had repeated many times. But soon he began to add, “But the ones that are real are… deeply concerning, and hard to come by.”

More than a few times Jon had caught Melanie digging through filing cabinets, looking for a statement with a shred of truth in it, anything to follow up or make a story out of. After the third time that Jon threw open the door to the filing room and nearly gave himself a heart attack when the light illuminated Melanie’s hunch over figure, reading through a pile of folders that she most certainly was not going to put away properly, Jon sighed and asked, “Why don’t I just give you some statements that seem real.”

Melanie looked up from the file in her hand that she was about to discard. “You’d do that? Isn’t that against ‘policy’ or something.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s no more breaking rules than allowing you in here in the first place.” He eyed the pile of statements on the floor, the open drawer with crumbled papers shoved in. “Besides, I’m tired of having to spend an entire day refiling after you pop in.”

And so, Jon started keeping track of statements he believes. First on sticky notes, then on looseleaf paper, and eventually in a notebook so that Melanie can keep track as she goes along, Jon wrote down the name and case number of what he believes are credible cases, and Melanie dug them out of their dusty tombs. Even if she didn’t put them away - which she rarely did, can’t go making Jon’s life too easy, she thought with a grin - it was clear that he appreciated knowing exactly where they came from. She still browsed around, skimming through statements that Jon doesn’t believe, but she puts those ones back where she finds them if they weren't worth her time.

Their strange friendship continued like that for a few months. They steered clear of personal topics, even, no, especially, as Melanie began going on dates with Georgie. Occasionally, a personal detail would slip in; Jon mentioned that he hates denim skirts after telling Melanie about a statement that, for some reason, explicitly mentions them (“And what makes you an expert on what women should wear?” Melanie asked, annoyance clear in her.

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No, I’m talking about me. I hate wearing denim skirts.”

“Oh,” Melanie says, the wind coming out of her sails. “Uh, me too.”). At one point Melanie mentioned that she loves artificial blue raspberry, which made Jon scrunch his nose in disgust. Before they knew it, Melanie and Jon knew about the other’s thoughts on movies, books, fashion, the weather, politics, animals, food, and whether or not Rosie is dating that one woman from HR.

It was a slow and gradual shift, one that caught both of them off guard. But neither was anxious to prevent it and really, Melanie was kind of interested to see where it would go. It’s with that thought in mind, seeing how this will go, that she throws a folder onto Jon’s desk. He hadn’t looked up when she knocked and entered without waiting, but with the manila folder obscuring whatever paperwork he was doing, he sighs and lifts his head.

“Yes, Melanie?”

“This statement was misfiled,” Melanie said, glee and gloating oozing out of her voice. She cackled when she saw Jon scowl, arms crossing automatically. He glanced down at the casefile.

“It most certainly was not,” Jon huffed, picking it up. He doesn’t even mention how it wasn’t a file he gave her, so keen to prove her wrong. “It was filed by year, 2006, subsection ‘non-human creature’, subsection ‘false’ and-”

“Exactly,” Melanie interrupted. “It’s not fake.”

“What do you mean it’s not fake.” Jon narrowed his eyes. “It’s about a bloody sea monster!”

“A sea monster which is described in another statement from 1984,” Melanie threw another folder onto his desk, which Jon hadn’t noticed in her hand in his haste to disagree, “And, one that causes damage similar to this accident report,” Melanie unlocked her phone and shoved it into Jon’s face. His eyes crossed and squinted as he tried to read the news article on the screen. “Which, by the way, all occur in the same region of the Barents Sea.”

Jon lifted his eyes from the phone screen, still slightly glaring at Melanie. He looked away after a second, raising a hand to scratch the side of his face.

“Well, then, I guess we will have to look into it some more,” his voice was different than what Melanie was used to. Behind the movement of his hand, Melanie thought she saw some falses of teeth and saw a slight twinkle in his eye. He quickly dropped his face, expression and voice back to normal, “But, this is not permission for you to go back to rummaging through my files!”

Melanie grinned wolfishly, putting a hand on her hip. The gentle voice and expression were already leaving her mind. “Like I ever needed your permission, Jon.”

-1

It was almost surprising how well Daisy got on with Jon. She supposed it was because they were both a bit quieter than the people around them, got a bit more drained from human interaction than others, a bit more like old souls. Only, Daisy was more of an ‘old soul’ because the thought of all the therapy she had to go through years ago still made her tired and because she was literally about fifteen years older than everyone else in the Archives.

“Why is it that your joints hurt more than mine even though you’re a baby?” Daisy asked, after finding Jon laying on the floor of his office, hair and dress fanned out on the floor. When she had questioned his state, he just mumbled, “m’back hurts.”

Calling him a baby made him grumble more. “I’m not a baby, I am a grown man-”

“More like an old man.” Daisy joked, sitting down cross-legged by his head. “Seriously, you’re too young to be aching this much.”

Jon shrugged, shirt rustling against the carpet. “I’ve always ached. I guess having a desk job just made it worse.”

Daisy nodded. She couldn’t really relate; all her old aches hadn’t been physical, and before the archives all her jobs involved in a lot of moving - whether it was fast food as a teenager, or retail as a young adult, and then the police.

“You should go to a chiropractor, get a massage.” She suggested.

“Chiropractor and masseuse are two different professions.”

“Piss off, you know what I’m saying.” Jon rolled his eyes and squirmed a bit on the floor.

“I don’t like the thought of someone… massaging me.”

“It feels really good,” Daisy replies, thinking back to the few massages she had gotten in her life. “And chiropractors don’t really massage, they just snap your joints back into place and then give you weird exercises to do.”

Jon shrugged again and didn’t say anything. Daisy wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t have anything to say, or if his previous movement made something along his spine twinge. After a minute of silence, with Jon’s face occasionally morphing from boredom to discomfort, Daisy got an idea.

“Stand up,” she said, getting to her feet herself. Jon looked up, startled.

“Why?”

“Just do it,” Daisy stuck her hand out for Jon to take. With a little effort, Jon sat up, groaning a little, before taking her stand to stand. As soon as he was upright, Daisy reached down to hold Jon from under his armpits.

“Uh, Daisy, what are you doing?” Jon asked, arms sticking straight out, stiff, as Daisy brought his body closer to her.

“I’m going to reset your back,” Daisy said, as Jon’s face squished against her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this a few times, it usually helps.”

Jon mumbled something, before yelping when Daisy stood closer to her full height and he was lifted a few inches off the ground. Jon’s arms instinctually went around Daisy’s shoulders, even though she was fully supporting his weight.

“Okay, you gotta relax your body, untense your muscles- Jon that is the opposite of untensing. There you go, okay, you’re going to hear a crack,” She said, before squeezing Jon into her body, forearms pressed across different parts of his back. There was a loud crack as she felt Jon tighten his arms around her and give a little yell into her shoulder.

She loosened her grip, but still held him close for a second, just in case. She felt his mouth move against her shirt, and at first, she thought he was mumbling something, but then the movement ceased for a few seconds. Another small movement, and then no motion once again. Finally, she lowered Jon to the floor and released him. He stood, and quickly went to smoothing out his shirt.

“How’d that feel?” Daisy asks, noticing how he wasn’t automatically going back to lie on the ground. Jon stilled for a second, before saying,

“It feels a lot better. Thank you, Daisy.”

Martin knew he wasn’t subtle, at least not when it came to Jon. He knew practically anyone who came down to the Archives could tell he had a crush, knew that his attempts to coddle, and talk to, and make Jon proud were just about as sly as painting a banner that said: “I WANT TO DATE JONATHAN SIMS.”

He almost couldn’t help it. Sure, he had gotten a bit better at not letting Jon treat him like a doormat over the years - sometimes Jon even seemed pleasantly surprised when Martin told him off for being mean - but there was still an undeniable urge to be gentle with him, to treat him kindly, to make him smile.

Not that anyone had any recollection of Jon smiling - hell, Tim even made a few jokes that Jon was probably in a terrible accident as a smile and ‘broke his smile muscles, but left his annoying muscles intact’. It wasn’t very funny, but Martin and Sasha still laughed.

Still, in some masochistic kind of way, Martin enjoyed this prolonged courtship. And even though his friends were sure that nothing was advancing, that Martin was still being a pining fool (which wasn’t an inaccurate description) and Jon was still being an unrequiting idiot, Martin was sure that he was making progress. Jon and he were having more… moments. More times where they would make eye contact and Jon’s face would soften, more conversations where Jon would ramble off-topic, at ease and relaxed, before remembering himself and Martin and roping him back into the conversation. There would be times where Martin would pass Jon a cup of tea, mug angled so that Jon could easily grab the handle, and yet Jon would take the mug in such a way that their fingers would brush. Sometimes they even lingered there, the heat of ceramic burning his hand, almost unnoticeable in comparison to the heat of his face as Jon glanced at him through his eyelashes, saying, “Thank you, Martin.”

Maybe it was just because no one else was privy to these moments, or maybe Martin really was just a yearning fool, desperately grasping at anything that suggested Jon returned his affection, but no one else seemed to understand these moments or take them seriously.

“Your crush is getting out of control,” Tim said one day, after watching Martin bring Jon tea in a mug covered in hearts. “Like, legally speaking, I think it’s too much.”

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon had stared at the mug for a few seconds before taking it, and even though it was still piping hot, much too warm to comfortably drink, he took a sip as soon as it was in his grasp. “This is lovely, Martin. Thank you.”

“Leave it alone, Tim, it’s fine,” Martin replied, going back to sit at his desk.

“No, it is getting a bit ridiculous,” Sasha agreed. “I mean, how long have you been after him? Like, I love Jon, trust me, but he’s either oblivious or ignoring your, uh, flirting attempts.”

“He’s not ignoring them.”

“So he’s just oblivious?”

“I don’t think so.” Sasha and Tim looked at him strangely. He sighed. “Look, things are fine, okay? It’s fine, just let me… do my thing.”

“Fine, we will ‘let you do your thing’ but, for the record, you probably could have gotten with at least three people in the time that you’ve been lusting after Jon,” Tim said, earning a laugh from Sasha.

But it was fine, whatever he and Jon had. It was certainly more than what he had been getting before, and even though he wanted more - chest aching at the sight of a frazzled or tired Jon, feeling the need to brush his hair out of his face, to press tender kisses to his eyelids, the near unbearably desire to just hold him, and care for him - Martin wasn’t unhappy. And somehow he knew Jon wasn’t either.

Sometimes Jon even sought Martin out, intentionally leaving his stuffy office only to walk over to Martin's desk and chat with him for a few minutes before returning. Often he would have to return a minute later, muttering about leaving a pen or a pencil or a hair tie. (One time, as Jon turned around to leave, Martin saw the pen on the edge of his desk, and said, “You left your pen.”

Jon had turned around, looking almost disappointed. “Oh. Yes, thank you, Martin.”

He collected his pen and returned to his office. Martin didn’t see him until he said goodbye for the night. The next time he saw Jon dropping something at his desk, he didn’t mention it.)

When Jon actually remembered to eat lunch now, he would only come out to eat if Martin hadn’t eaten already, as he had taken to sitting either across or directly next to him during meal times. If Jon was sitting next to him - usually because Melanie or Basira were sitting across the shifty breakroom table - Martin could feel Jon gently, almost shyly, pressing his knee against Martin’s leg. Jon’s face was always blank, but if Martin made any move to shift away, Jon’s head would snap towards him until contact was either completely broken or restored.

Of course, there wasn’t an easy way to explain this to anyone else. How could Martin have possibly hoped to quantify glances, and touches, and the new intonations when Jon said ‘Martin’, the name now completely different than what Jon used to call him, despite no letters changing. How to explain it when no one else seemed to notice the magnitude of these changes if they noticed the changes at all?

So Martin rolled his eyes and made jokes with the others as they teased and prodded him about his ‘crush that was going nowhere on the boss’, and hoped, like so many times before, that Jon couldn’t hear them through his office door.

As pathetic as it sounded, Martin was prepared to play the long game, to continue this dance he and Jon had begun as long as it took, to tolerate the unbearable loneliness that crept up on him at home so long as he got to see Jon at work, to keep bringing him tea every day until, well, until something happened, or until one of them left the archives. Martin had made peace with that fact, though he loathed to admit it, even to himself.

And then, Jon asked for his help one day.

“Can you stay late with me this evening? I need some assistance looking into a statement.” Jon had been formal, professional when he asked.

“Of course,” Martin said, if not because any time spent with Jon was a good time (usually, not even Martin was in deep enough to enjoy some of Jon’s moods), then because he did take his job seriously. “Anything you need.”

“I can stay behind too if you need extra help,” Basira offered, turning to look at Jon.

Jon nodded at her. “Thank you for offering, but I’ll only be needing Martin.”

And he has to admit, hearing that did bring warmth to his face and to his chest.

The help that Jon needed was minimal. Some of it was just reaching a file of a self that was too high since the stepladder that he used to use had broken, and Martin knew that Jon had too much pride to ask for help reaching something when everyone was in. Otherwise, all he needed assistance with was looking over a few files to see if a name popped up in all of them. All in all, it only took about half an hour, including the time it took to re-sort the files and put the relevant ones on Jon’s desk.

As Martin was preparing to leave, Jon approached him one more time, also clad in his winter coat and bulky scarf tucked under his chin. He stood in front of Martin, looking intently. Martin waited for, well, something. Jon took a deep breath.

“Would- Are you- Do,” Jon scowled at himself, took another breath and reached up to tug his scarf lower again so that more of his face was visible. “Martin, would you like to go out to eat with me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Martin replied, cheeks reddening slightly. Jon paused for a moment.

“I mean this as a date.”

Martin looked at Jon, bundled in his winter wear, hair slightly tangled, fumbling over asking Martin out!

“I knew that’s what you meant,” Martin said with a smile. He looked down at Jon’s hands, clenched tightly into themselves. He reached a hand out and carefully brushed a finger along the knuckles of on. “Of course, I would like to go on a date with you.”

And when he looked up, he saw Jon smiling, and it felt like seeing the stars for the first time. Jon always said he looked much older than he was, which Martin was inclined to agree, but when he smiled, he looked more his age. The tiredness and stress that plagued his expressions disappeared under the glow of his grin, eyes crinkled, and. Dimples.

Jon had dimples, nestled in between his smile lines, a secret that Martin knew he was now the only one in the Institute besides Jon who knew they existed.

“You have dimples,” Martin said, a smile creeping onto his own face. “They’re cute.”

Jon sputtered a, “No they’re not!” and Martin could see he was trying to return his face to its usually impassive expression, but it seemed that every time he got close, his grin would break through. Eventually, Jon tugged his scarf up to cover his mouth, but Martin still saw his eyes crinkled, somehow still felt Jon smiling through the layers.

“They’re cute,” Martin repeated, wanting to pull Jon’s scarf down again. This want was different than what he usually felt, a desire not tinged with sadness or loss. Maybe it was presumptuous, but Martin knew that this urge would be met. Maybe not now, but soon.

And Martin thought about Jon’s smile, even when he asked, voice muffled behind the layers of wool, where Martin wanted to go to eat, and would Martin like to walk, transit or take a cab there, and, and and.

Martin thought about Jon’s smile, knowing he was one of the few people to see it, knowing that he would get to see it again

#jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #fanfic #links #jon x martin #i hate having to share fics to tumblr idk why but they always look so UGLY

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

Text

Savannah & Jac

Savannah: Are you on your way here? Jac: I hadn't started to get ready yet Jac: got caught up doing some prep for our next lecture, haven't looked at the clock in a minute 🤯 whoops Savannah: well thank god, I was hoping to catch you before having to dramatically tell you to turn around, especially if you had happened to be half way to me Jac: Oh? Jac: What's going on in UH tonight? 😄 Savannah: Nothing, which is perhaps why we're the centre of attention Jac: 😬 Don't love the sound of that Jac: what's been said? Savannah: I'm not even sure because the way she was saying it gave me the most INTENSE Catholic school flashbacks Savannah: & I've overanalysed every syllable to the point that it's been twisted beyond recognition so I can't be trusted to reliably relay any of it Jac: Okay, pause Jac: who's being mean to you, and why on earth Jac: Is it that one girl in the next room along from you, because I did think she was someone's little sister so I can believe the immaturity Savannah: I think she was trying to be complimentary about us but I didn't take it like that, I can't, not after everything Jac: Baby Jac: just try to explain it best you can Jac: take your time, and I'll forgive any personal interjection Jac: because I care more about how it's made you feel, than how it was said or meant, really Savannah: she's made me feel like I'm doing this all wrong, exactly how I said I wouldn't, holding you back and being too much Jac: But you aren't at all Jac: what would she even know about it, she doesn't know either of us, even a little bit Savannah: maybe that unbiased outside perspective is what I needed to make me realise the mistakes I'm making Savannah: because it isn't just her, they're all talking about how you're ALWAYS here, how inseparable we are Jac: Do you feel like we're taking things too fast, being too much? Savannah: No Savannah: but I didn't last time either Jac: okay Jac: because you know you can tell me, if you are Jac: I mean, I don't know what to do with this information Jac: we don't judge them for their relationships Savannah: I was fine, but I'm scared now, obviously Jac: that we're like you and Tyler, or you and Milo Jac: or that we're repeating our past and it'll end badly again Savannah: that I can't have a relationship that isn't ridiculously co-dependent, except it's not even, because that implies that they were as extra as I was Savannah: & that I shouldn't have entered into this one if I haven't changed enough to avoid repeating things Jac: They balanced you out Jac: and I don't Savannah: they let me do whatever I wanted, that isn't what I want from you Jac: but if it's what we both want Jac: it's hard for me to think we should listen more to these girls, who are probably speaking at least from a bit of jealousy, than that Savannah: No, because it isn't what we both want, a healthy relationship is what we both want Jac: Yeah Jac: you're right, of course Jac: but, I don't like the implication that they know what works for us Jac: if we need to reevaluate, it can still be on our terms Jac: I bet lots of them have never had a serious relationship, or only the same level of unhealthy as we have before, they're not qualified Savannah: They don't know us or have any qualifications & I believe you're right about the jealousy factor but I am still willing to see & use this as the wake up call that I need to do better Jac: We can do that Jac: I trust you Jac: I'm not going to see this as you pulling away or something I've done Savannah: please don't, because it isn't Jac: It was my initial fear Jac: but you never leave me to worry Jac: and the fact that I immediately went there is just something I need to address too Savannah: you have reason to go there, it's okay Savannah: how I handled things back then is precisely what I'm trying to avoid Jac: I completely see that, I honestly do Jac: I'm sorry if I got defensive right there Savannah: & I can see that I've slightly overreacted now that I've slightly calmed down Jac: It made me feel the same Jac: like you said, the school flashbacks are no joke Savannah: I'm so sorry I told you not to come, I'd hate for you to think that's what I want, ever Jac: It's okay, we can take a night off Jac: but I'm also not gonna tell you you can't come to mine instead, once they've all gone back to their rooms or whatever Savannah: are you going to tell me what prep you were doing which I should've been instead of freaking out? Savannah: because I need to know Jac: Of course Jac: we haven't competed like that for a LONG time now Jac: it's not like we were asked but I asked [your fave prof bff 'cos lord knows I'm using the photos] on the way out last week if there was anything we could study up on ready for next term Savannah: once I've done everything he has suggested & fixed my 😢 face I'll come over Jac: My poor boo, I hate that they upset you so much Jac: also that we only have showers Jac: or I'd recommend a bubble bath as first order of business Savannah: honestly the lack of 🛀🏾🥂 upsets me more than anything Savannah: but in all seriousness, it wasn't even those girls at fault, I got myself worked up Jac: it is a travesty Jac: we need a place with an en-suite next year Jac: because the idea of sharing a bath with god knows who is no more appealing than NOT having one 😰 Jac: it's okay, I won't insist on being that stereotype and 'having a word' with them, they can live, for now Savannah: if checking into a hotel wouldn't be viewed as the ULTIMATE overreaction, I definitely would use the 💳 my dad insisted upon giving me Jac: I can only imagine the flashbacks that would give him 🙄 Jac: not worth the stress nor satisfaction Jac: though I was thinking we could do something, go somewhere, before the Christmas hols, as we will both be obligated to go all in with the family during Savannah: there would be SO MUCH satisfaction but I promise, I'll resist and be good, for now Savannah: no such promises of 👼🏾 for a family Christmas though, so I love that idea Jac: We can make that happen with just a shower, I promise you Jac: even if we just see a bit more of Edinburgh, get that hotel, I wanna treat you Jac: and no one can stop me spending as much time as we're able lavishing attention on you before we have to go back Jac: because it's going to be stressful, we both know that much already Savannah: if you're feeling left out because your entire dorm isn't talking about us, I can make that happen once we're 🚿 Savannah: you're the most thoughtful girlfriend in the entire world, but if that's something we're about to start competing over in place of academics, that's more than fine with me Jac: I might regret saying I can handle that but Jac: I don't Jac: 😳😳 Savannah: you won't have any, I promise Jac: I love you Savannah: I'm utterly in love with you Jac: I'll never get over hearing that Savannah: you don't have to because I love your 😳 too Jac: It's so different Jac: even though we used to say it like all the time Savannah: you know I meant it every time, it just had to be different Jac: and it is Jac: third time's a charm Jac: we'll make it work this time, no matter how much work that might be Jac: because it's so worth it Savannah: yes, it is and we will Jac: I'm gonna order all your faves when you get here Savannah: �� Savannah: hopefully the lecture prep won't take me too long Jac: you can always read through mine Jac: it's not like it's cheating, just a better way to do a study sesh Savannah: if you're going to send it to me, absolutely, but if you're expecting me to concentrate on reading through it when I get there, I'm sorry but there's no way Jac: I'm not that 😈 Jac: at least not at the sake of your education Savannah: & thank goodness as my parents are both already doing the most to interfere with my education right now with their constant communication Jac: yet imagine your dad in particular if you did any less than perfect Jac: I don't know how he fails to see how counterproductive the constant checking in is Savannah: or the pressure that he's been putting on me to spend Christmas with him from literally November 1st, I swear Savannah: it hasn't slipped his mind that I had no choice but to do that for the last two, even if the unfairness to my mother is something he refuses to think about Jac: Yes, I was about to say Jac: he'll have to think about how he's going to timeshare more efficiently with your mum now, just because it was his way or nothing for two whole years Jac: clearly, that didn't work so well for anyone BUT him Savannah: he thinks he can dictate to me as if I'm no older than I was when he forced me to leave & as though nothing has changed since then Savannah: I'm not going to jeopardise my mum's recovery by not spending time with her in the holidays Jac: To even suggest, let alone expect that from you Jac: even if he's not thinking about your mother, why would he want that guilt for you Jac: at least he cannot literally force you onto a plane to Sligo instead of Dublin Jac: it's getting Sienna, that needs to be planned Savannah: I'm at my wits end with her, it's like she doesn't see the problem Savannah: of course I'd understand her reluctance to spend it with mum but it's all about him, every single of her reasonings, because they aren't even really hers Savannah: she just fully believes whatever dad says Jac: 😕 That's hard Jac: because it automatically puts you in the bad guy camp Jac: because obviously it's nicer to believe that he only wants what's best etc Jac: but when she realizes that's not totally true, that'll be shattering Savannah: she's going to get hurt by him again, as if I wasn't there when he walked out teaching her to question everything that comes out of a man's mouth, that man in particular Savannah: I hate it Jac: I know 😞 Jac: all you're trying to do is protect her Jac: is she interested at coming like, at all? Jac: even if not the actual day of Savannah: It's not like I want her to spend her time and energy until her leavers cert hating him as much as I do, I know it'll be different for her now that I'm gone Savannah: but we get nowhere whenever I try to talk to her about mum, irrespective of the actual subject Savannah: I'm not giving up, of course, but I won't pretend to you that it isn't exhausting Jac: Of course you don't, you'd never tell her what to think Jac: but if you can see things differently, or remember how it was last time, it doesn't make you a bad sister, it's the opposite Jac: you never do ❤ Jac: I was just wondering, though this would be a bit morally dubious Jac: if we could trick her into spending some time with your mum Jac: I could make my sister invite her to something legit, like a family party Jac: your dad MIGHT say yes? I don't know Savannah: at this point I'm so close to walking away from everyone for the sake of my own mental health to spend the holidays alone & obviously that's not a real option I have available to me so I'm more than ready to do it & take the bad karma if it backfires Jac: I understand, last Christmas, I would've given anything to do just that Jac: I think it could work, your dad being the only potential block Jac: we could go for the second half, do New Years with her, maybe Savannah: 😞 I'm going to make sure you have the best Christmas this year, baby, whether or not this works Jac: I've got you, that's all I need for it to be perfect Jac: and we will work this out Jac: but as you said, it isn't even time yet, so you don't have to figure it all out tonight Jac: but when we do, you will have a peaceful and joyful Christmas, if it's the last thing I do Savannah: You're perfect & you're getting my undivided attention tonight, I truly do not care what opinion any or every American girl in this town has or decides to share Jac: A no-phone policy does not even need to be implemented when you're so beautiful Jac: it'd practically be a sin to not use every sense on you Jac: but seriously, whilst they may have a point, we're also further along than they might assume Jac: like I said, if they've never had a proper relationship, they're used to not getting texts back and having to be cool about it 🤷 Jac: we don't have to tone ourselves down or lessen what we have, if it doesn't serve us to do so, only in the ways it might Savannah: I will implement one though, some kind of a genuine family emergency happening again notwithstanding Savannah: I learnt a LOT about sin in Catholic school & you're totally right Savannah: you're the only person who I'd tone anything down for & since you haven't asked me, I really don't think it's necessary Jac: I appreciate it, a lot, you know that, right? Jac: the cliche isn't totally baseless then Jac: you can tell me all about it but we better keep that on the down-low 🤫 Savannah: okay, you don't want that specific dialogue broadcast to your entire dorm, just our mutual appreciation Savannah: I can do that Jac: I can only imagine how enthusiastic the boys would be Jac: and I only care about your enthusiasm Savannah: ugh, true Savannah: I forget too easily that we're not totally on our own once the door is closed, which I'm sure is what lead to that conversation taking place earlier Jac: We aren't the only ones who do that Jac: I swear to God I've heard at least four different girls going next door 🙄 Savannah: 🙄 not to mention I'm still getting woken up by a certain person we don't like just being loud while she undergoes her morning routine, which has literally been happening since I first moved in Jac: I can't deal with how loud she is Jac: the accent makes it so grating Jac: is she trying to be an influencer? make friends? either or 😬 honey no Savannah: ^^^ Savannah: I'm going to have to start going to bed earlier to compensate once lectures start Jac: She a THOUSAND percent has booked herself all afternoon/evening lectures and won't get why everyone is making such a big deal ??? Jac: so that girl Jac: I do my best work in the AM, that's just facts, not all of us plan to party through the entire experience, come on Savannah: So do I, as you know, so if she doesn't take the numerous hints once they are coming from more than just me, I'll have to move in with you & be that girl Savannah: which would entirely negate all the rational points I made earlier Jac: God, there needs to be a way to complain about her without it being dead obvious Jac: an amnesty box of sorts Jac: I'm still looking for doubles but no one is moving yet Savannah: If I have to befriend her to initiate the behaviour change that way, I guess I'll get used to the accent Savannah: you've said my 🥺 is like a superpower Jac: it would be very on-brand Jac: basically work experience for us Jac: and they are but she might fall for you and then she'd be around even more Savannah: oh no, imagine how vocal she would be if she did Savannah: it would be beyond difficult to cope with Jac: I would not cope Jac: at all Jac: so I shan't imagine it Savannah: 😄 Jac: 😥 Savannah: Baby, don't 😥 Jac: I'll have to go back to being a TOTAL bitch from hell if she dares Savannah: 🥺 no Savannah: you're an angel Savannah: & she isn't worth your time or energy, I am Jac: You Jac: x2 Jac: I don't care about anyone else here Jac: in the nicest way possible, of course Savannah: except [whatever your professor bff's name is] that's evident in the notes you've sent me Jac: Okay, he's pretty cool Jac: and definitely gonna help us get perfect marks Savannah: you definitely don't need his help Savannah: I'd almost forgotten just how intelligent you are Jac: I'll try not to be offended Jac: even though I was still totally convinced you'd be going to Bath before I saw you Savannah: I mean, actually, not in a romanticised way because of how much I was in awe of you Savannah: & I did go there, before I made up my mind which offer to accept & it didn't feel right Jac: I'm only teasing, I know that Jac: 🌌💫 Savannah: we were supposed to be here together, like we always talked about Savannah: I shouldn't have ever tried to fight that Jac: I couldn't even bring myself to check your socials before Jac: I don't know what I didn't want to see more, you know Jac: confirmation either way was just, no Savannah: I understand Jac: If I'd have seen gap year plans with Milo, that would not have been it Savannah: most of the time that we were intending to plan was spent arguing anyway, I'm not sure he really wanted to go at any stage of it Savannah: with me, I mean Jac: You weren't right for each other Jac: he's lost a lot more from that deal than you have Savannah: He'll be having a lovely time in hostels, undoubtedly Savannah: it won't be a culture shock at all Jac: Checks out Jac: authentic experience Jac: inserting himself with all the other foreigners Savannah: 🙄 Savannah: if I thought he had a posh accent, lord knows what they'll think Jac: he'll be stimulating the economy, they'll pretend he's not unbearable Savannah: at least he'll be stimulating something, I suppose Jac: 😂 Jac: you said it, not me Savannah: it speaks to my experience Jac: how anyone has the nerve to 🥱 you when you're so interesting is so offensive to me Savannah: it's not his fault that nobody else could ever be as interesting to me as you are, but he is responsible for the effort, or lack of that he put in Jac: no, it'd take someone really special to fight the 🌌💫 and it's plans for us Jac: and I can imply he wasn't that person, without being petty about it Savannah: it's honesty, he wasn't that person & he'd be the first to say so Jac: you're already happier, aren't you? Jac: on this path, this direction Savannah: yes, the happiest Jac: 😊🥰 Savannah: excuse me while I have one of those moments where I can't believe any of this is really happening & fully expect to wake up in Sligo for the summer to the realisation it was the most incredible dream Jac: It's actually such a fear Jac: I never want to go to sleep when I'm with you Jac: for that reason, and the obvious being I can't look at you with my eyes closed Savannah: but if you don't your subconscious can't talk to me & you know how much I love that Jac: so far Jac: what if I say something totally stupid and betray myself 😱 Savannah: you could never say anything stupid & I know you aren't going to betray yourself or me Jac: You trust me, I trust you Savannah: exactly Jac: if I ever say anything really cringe, you can just not tell me, yeah 😅 Savannah: 😄 like what? Jac: anything our favourite American might say, for example Savannah: she isn't actually going to attempt to flirt with me, boo Jac: I know, she's the definition of straight Jac: bless her Savannah: ^^ she's the only person I would apply the word definition to, literally anyone else has the ability to change & grow but she's CLEARLY set in her loud ways Jac: ^ That's totally the vibe Jac: she made her mind up aged 10 she was right and hasn't moved an inch since, whatever the subject Savannah: you're so right Savannah: What were you like when you were 10? Jac: Oh God Jac: let me think Jac: so, fourth class, absolutely LIVID over the fact we had 2 more years of first school after that Jac: thought I was way too grown-up for EVERYTHING Jac: there was probably some boyband I was into but if there was, I don't remember but Isabelle probably still has the merch and posters on her wall Jac: hopefully I was less insufferable when we properly met those years later Jac: how about you? Savannah: I can totally relate, except of course I thought I was too grown up for boybands too Jac: Totally Jac: it was like a secret shame but she had none, Amelia neither Jac: so I kinda had to go with it Savannah: 😄 Savannah: I had a very overprotective father who wouldn't have let me go to those concerts even if I had wanted to so Jac: it made sense to be anti then Jac: it was a lot of screaming and pre-teen hormones, it might've felt like it at the time, but you didn't miss out on a whole lot Savannah: if there'd been a girl band of that era I'd have been much more likely to have supported them, as a fierce little feminist Jac: Adorable Jac: you were cute, I remember that much Savannah: you've always been cute, I've seen the photos Jac: at least my hair had grown back in a decent amount by then Jac: I was so jealous of yours Savannah: really? I didn't even know how to properly style it back then Savannah: but I still insisted, obviously, instead of letting my mum help me Jac: I liked that Jac: you didn't just let your mum braid it and put a bow in Jac: I have to assume that was my logic when I cut mine Jac: independence, making my own choice Savannah: I thought I could do ANYTHING, it's embarrassing how big my aspirations were Savannah: & that there was no limit on the choices I had, there was total belief in that too Jac: it's nice Jac: I wish we stayed like that Savannah: imagine my 🥺 when I discovered inequality & where I was supposed to fit into it as a black girl, except don't because I was utterly devastated Savannah: we still have big dreams though & more choices than 10 year old me did Jac: I don't wanna cry Jac: you're still going to get everything you want Jac: and you've had to work twice as hard for it, no one can take that away from you Savannah: no 😢 we're both going to have a beautiful life Jac: ✨🌼🌷❤☀️❤🌹🌻✨ Savannah: I'll help you & you'll help me Savannah: now that I'm more willing to accept it than I was as a child Jac: and your hair is undeniably flawless Jac: we can do anything Savannah: Oh my god, it's my turn to be jealous of yours & I always am Jac: the fact you can be jealous of anyone blows my mind Jac: you are perfection Jac: but you can play with my hair all you want now Savannah: but not literally right now 🥺 Jac: life is so unfair Jac: I'm so proud of you though, working so hard Savannah: well I'm even prouder of you, these notes are flawless Jac: I've got my uses, yeah Savannah: [a picture of her own aesthetic af notes so far because we are both those bitches] Jac: [truly, could rinse the studyblr tag with these two] Jac: 😍😍😍 you've picked such pretty colours Savannah: [I have saved some cute psychology ones off pinterest for when they start their studies] Savannah: they do match my outfit but if I start sending pictures of myself I'll never finish Jac: if you start sending pictures of yourself, I'll find it harder to be supportive of your studies Savannah: I miss you too Jac: as long as we're in that together too Jac: I'll survive Jac: my room does need tidying before you get here Savannah: you're adorable, you don't have to tidy up for me Jac: for my notes to look perfect, my room has to get a little messy Jac: oh, and my hair, probably Savannah: I can fix your hair for you after we 🚿 Jac: as long as you don't think I look terrible when you show and run straight back Savannah: I've been 😢 so I don't have any room to judge but even if I did, you could never look terrible & there is no conceivable reason that I'd ever run away from you Savannah: but if you need to shown all of that when I get there, it's okay, I'm happy to Jac: I'm so needy, I'm sorry Savannah: you're allowed to want me & not be sorry Savannah: I definitely don't see it as a negative Jac: Good Jac: I haven't done this before Jac: I don't ever wanna be too much Savannah: well, you aren't doing it alone & I trust us more than the opinion of a random American girl I'm currently stuck living with Savannah: any amount of reassurance you need for any reason, it's fine, I promise Jac: 😌 I'm cool Jac: but thank you Jac: there's no one else I would want to or could do this with Savannah: there's no need to thank me, I'll do anything to make sure you feel happy & secure Jac: and I intend to return the favour, always Jac: in every way available to me Savannah: 😊 I know, I meant what I said earlier, you're very good at this, first time girlfriend or not Jac: I've got to be a worthy competitor and you're 👼🏾 Savannah: Catholic school taught me a lot about 👼🏾 too Jac: I'm so relieved they still had to give you an actual education as well Jac: I can only imagine how hard Science could've fallen by the wayside Savannah: still, I will not be enrolling my 👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾 when they're old enough Jac: at least you don't have to make that decision for a while yet Savannah: which is just as well because my immediate response was 'thank god', how blasphemous Savannah: 🙏🏾 hasn't guided this decision but there is a LOT of 🙌🏾 involved Jac: he'd approve if that was the only precaution you took, like Savannah: his approval would have to eclipse my actual father's disapproval, which is BEYOND unlikely Jac: 🙏🏾 is less vocal Jac: it's more signs than 🔊 Savannah: I think that's ⛪️ dependent, some 🙏🏾🙌🏾 is very vocal Jac: actual GOD himself though Savannah: hmm, well he is a man Savannah: it makes communication more challenging Jac: I'm sure little Savannah would've said herself Savannah: child me would've believed that god is a woman, another dream shattered for sure Jac: a woman wouldn't have done so poorly Jac: it's a compliment, really Savannah: exactly, with the zero communication, it'd be like excuse me honey, why are you so angry at me that you've blocked me? Jac: that kind of drama is reserved for me Savannah: not even, I know what I did to you Jac: you didn't do anything to me, not on purpose, I always knew that Savannah: it wasn't on purpose but that doesn't mean it's okay Savannah: I hurt you anyway Jac: We were both hurt and hurting Jac: it was a lot Savannah: yes, but it's important that you don't make excuses for me simply because of how much you want to forgive me Jac: I won't Jac: I can just recognize my role in everything too Jac: as well as the other factors that neither of us could control Savannah: ^^ we're not going to get hung up on it to the extent that it ruins everything, but we can & will acknowledge it all so that doesn't either Savannah: I do love a balancing act 😄🙄 Jac: You do it flawlessly Jac: but we don't have to examine our past and our current behaviour constantly Jac: night's off are self-care Jac: tonight can be one of them, we'll just be Savannah: okay Savannah: I don't know why it feels like I haven't seen you in a really long time, I swear I didn't fully disassociate during my freak out earlier Jac: I feel it too Jac: judge away, everyone Jac: we're making up for lost time Savannah: they'd understand if I actually let them spend time with you instead of stealing you away on sight Jac: I can't pretend to be devastated Jac: you're the most interesting to me Savannah: I can't pretend I regret it either Jac: 🥰 Jac: we have plenty of time to socialize Jac: and we do, with people who are relevant, like people on our course and the psych society Savannah: ^^^ Savannah: It's not my fault she isn't looking over my shoulder when I'm super active in both of those group chats Savannah: I was literally setting up a study group before she cornered me, excuse her Jac: 🙄🙄🙄 I don't care for her at all, even if she's brought a potential problem to our attention before it was Jac: like thanks but still, bye though Jac: maybe the rest of her art history course does NOT love her either 😬 like if YOU'RE lonely, just say Savannah: mhmm Savannah: if anybody understands loneliness, we do Jac: right, if the ego was taken out of it, we'd try to spend time with her, and loads of other people in your dorm etc would too Jac: she's not helping herself rn Savannah: I also totally understand overconfidence as a front for insecurity, like hello??! She could have an ally in me if she'd approach things differently Jac: 🤞 she gets there before the year is out Jac: I don't want anyone struggling, seriously Jac: but I know forcing friendships when they aren't happening naturally isn't healthy Jac: never mind accepting people's toxic behaviour when we're actively trying not to do or be that Savannah: I couldn't agree more Savannah: though, despite what I said before about her not flirting with me, there is a very high possibility she'll fall in love with you if you keep being so perfect Savannah: everyone will Savannah: it's not as if she has to like girls to appreciate your intelligence, empathy or compassion, even if understanding your resilience & determination is clearly a harder task for her right now Savannah: a beautiful soul is a beautiful soul Jac: 🥺 Jac: Baby Jac: beautiful recognizes beautiful, that's all I have to say Jac: you make me feel so much better than I've ever thought I am Savannah: I can't say if I achieve nothing else while I'm here I'll be satisfied, because you know me better than that, but I am proud to be able to list that as an ongoing one because I've never met a better person than you Savannah: you deserve to feel it Savannah: & if you are what you love, what a good person you are shamelessly works in my favour too Jac: you're the most incredible person I've ever known Jac: it just sounds like a baseless compliment, there's no way to adequately put it, at least not without some serious time and work to try Savannah: not from you, there's no such thing Jac: I'm not the one that can write songs, sadly Savannah: but you could write a song I'd like more Jac: 😅 Savannah: I know he's your brother but no Jac: Don't worry, not a weird clause that to date me you have to think his music is amazing Jac: I'd actually hate that, to be honest Savannah: I'm beyond relieved Jac: I'm relieved no one here knows who he is, or who I am in relation Jac: that was getting annoying, towards the end Savannah: poor boo, I can't even imagine Jac: oh well Jac: this fresh start is going better than I could have even dreamed on my craziest day Savannah: me too & you're really keeping me sane Jac: God knows we've got to get through this experience and THRIVE Savannah: ^^ 👏🏾 Savannah: We will, failure to do so is literally not an option Jac: Exactly Jac: I refuse Jac: to let either of us Savannah: speaking of, these notes are done Savannah: so I'll be there soon Jac: I'll come out with the blasphemy too Jac: because I need to see you so bad now Savannah: It's mutual Jac: Hurry Jac: but don't forget your coat, it's cold Savannah: 🥰 I totally would have for the same reason I don't think either of us can be held responsible for what we're about to say, so thank you Jac: I can't let you freeze Jac: even though warming you up is beyond a welcome responsibility Savannah: & I can't lie, my coat is more fashionable than practical, I'll still need you Jac: You've got me Jac: shower, tea and all the bed cuddles you could want Savannah: you're going to make me cry again Jac: sweetie Jac: you can cry but wait 'til you're inside and with me so we don't have to thaw out the icicle teardrops Savannah: [a picture of her with that glitter tears filter than samantha loves so much because sadly I don't actually have one] Jac: Wow Jac: that's my girlfriend Savannah: I can't get over hearing that from you Jac: I can't get over saying it Jac: even just to myself Savannah: It sounds so different when a boy says it Jac: Yeah? Savannah: I don't even know how to explain it, it's like it stripped me of something instead of giving me something Savannah: it felt like, oh, I'm just your girlfriend now, okay Jac: like a kind of diminishment of who you are Jac: not the pride to be with you and know you and love you Jac: I see that Jac: I was never anyone's girlfriend, but that's the feeling I got from them Jac: a title for THEM not YOU Savannah: of course you understand, you always do Jac: not that I was bothered what they thought Jac: but it would have been upsetting if I was, definitely Savannah: I hate that Jac: it's okay, that's all over Savannah: I'm going to make you so happy Jac: I know you will

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the-pontiac-bandit · 5 years

Text

catch your dreams

in which amy santiago and jake peralta watch a presidential primary debate with their children, and one of those children is enamored with governor knope of indiana.

also on ao3

“Welcome to the first debate of the 2036 election! My name is Cecile Stafford, and with me tonight is my co-moderator Cooper Liddell. We’re thrilled to welcome you to this exciting primary contest--”

“MOM!” Ana’s shout from the kitchen table drowns out the TV. “I CAN’T FIND MY FOLDER!”

“Oh! I think I saw it earlier!” Jake shouts back from the master bedroom down the hall.

“Um...where?” Ana sounds surprised--his father loses things even more frequently than he does, and only twice in the thirteen year-old’s memory has her father ever been the one to find something lost.

“UNDER YOUR BUTT!” Jake’s uproarious laughter draws eye rolls from his wife and older daughter, seated side-by-side on the couch, and a giggle that matches his own from the small boy seated between them. Rey has a journal open on her lap, a pencil (she would never dare use a pen on the couch--those things can stain) already scratching away at the top of a new page. Her social studies teacher promised her extra credit for her thoughts on the debate, and she’ll be damned if she isn’t going to earn it.

Her mother pipes up from next to her, for the benefit of eight year-old Eli, curled up in the crook of her arm. “Jake, potty words stay in the…?”

“Potty,” comes the somewhat subdued response from the bedroom. Satisfied, Amy turns her attention back to the kitchen.

“Ana, did you check your backpack? It’s by the front door.”

Ana’s sigh of annoyance is audible, even over the audience applause coming from the TV’s top-of-the-line surround sound speakers (Jake had purchased them in order to better appreciate Avatar in all its cinematic glory). “Mom. I already checked there.”

“Well--” Amy starts to reply, ready to list the other places where her seventh-grader habitually leaves her possessions (it’s truly a miracle how easily the Jake and Ana manage to lose things in an apartment so small she has to share a bathroom with her teenage daughters).

“AHA!” Ana cuts her off triumphantly. Then, her voice turns sheepish. “I found it.”

“Where?” Amy asks, a hint of smugness in her voice betraying her certainty that the folder was in her daughter’s sequin backpack, thrown unceremoniously by the door five hours before.

Ana’s voice is sheepish. “...I was sitting on it,” she admits reluctantly, sticking her head around the door to the living room.

Then, a clatter from the bedroom startles all of them. Jake emerges with a triumphant shout, “I was right! It was under your butt!”

None of them hear him, though. They’re all too busy staring--while they’d been peacefully doing the dishes, Jake had been pulling a Tupperware bin of costumes out from the hall closet and adorning himself with every bit of red-white-and-blue attire the Santiago-Peralta family possessed.

“What?” he says, in response to the four pairs of eyes trained on him. “I had to get ready for the debate!” On the word debate, he leaps into the air, doing his best to imitate his fifteen-year-old ballerina daughter. He lands loudly, rattling the decorative plates hung on the wall behind him, and looks up at his family, a mohawk wig worn six years ago to Charles’ Fourth of July barbecue sitting crooked so his graying curls are visible underneath.

The entire family pauses for a second, a commercial about some adult-onset asthma medication droning on in the background. Then, everyone is laughing. Jake hops on the sofa next to his daughter, bouncing everyone around while his son’s cheeks turn rosy pink with his deep belly laugh and his more serious daughter’s soft giggle fills the room.

Jake and Eli are still laughing, Jake’s wig now perched on Eli’s much smaller head, covering his eyes, when a sudden swell in patriotic music and applause jerks them back to reality.

Rey has her hand on the volume button, eyeing them defiantly. “It’s starting,” she informs her father seriously as the speakers approach their maximum volume.

Ana, now laying on the floor with the previously-lost folder full of crumpled pages of math homework, grabs a pillow to cover her ears with an eye roll as Amy snags the remote from Rey. “Quick, turn it down!” she says, still breathless from laughter. “Before the neighbors call again!”

She switches the volume back to acceptable levels, but Rey doesn’t even seem to notice. Jake leans over and notices that she has columns for each candidate in her notebook, with her neat handwriting listing names, previous qualifications, and current offices.

“Our senator’s running, you know,” Rey announces. “Foster Cromwell. He’s supposed to win. It’d be cool to have another New York president. I think I’d vote for him.”

“You shouldn’t vote for someone just because they’re from your state,” Amy explains. “You want to vote for the person with the best ideas.”

“But you think he has good ideas! You voted for him last year!” Rey retorts.

“I do,” Amy concedes. “Senator Cromwell is very smart. But let’s see who else is on stage before we start committing our votes!”

Rey nods, writing furiously in her notebook as Harris finishes his opening statement. Seven candidates follow him, with opening statements so rehearsed and identical that Jake starts to nod off by the time the eighth candidate gets her minute.

“My name is Leslie Knope, and I’m the governor of Indiana. I may be new to the national political scene, but I’ve worked in government longer than any of the people on stage with me. My career began in the local Parks and Recreation department in--”

Something in her voice makes Jake snap to attention. His eyes open, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Amy sitting up straighter, too. Even Ana, pretending to be entirely disengaged from her spot on the carpet, has stopped writing.

The moment only lasts a few seconds, but it captures Jake’s attention. The tiny blonde woman on the far edge of the stage is electric, and her story about a swing, national parks, conservation, and hard work feels like it could be much longer than a minute.

The audience in the room seems to agree, with a swell of applause so loud that Amy has to turn the volume down another few notches.

“Who is she?” Amy asks her daughter.

Rey consults her notebook. “Governor of Indiana. She used to work at the Department of the Interior, and in the National Parks Service before that. She’s from...Pow-nee, I think is how you say it.”

Eli laughs. “Pow-nee’s funny.”

“Pow-NEE, Pow-NEE,” Jake repeats, poking his son in the stomach on each syllable while his son giggles.

“Shh!” Rey shoots a death glare--scarily like Amy’s--at her father as the moderators ask the first question.

Jake rapidly gets lost again in the technical language about public options, data privacy, and global trade pacts, so he settles on watching his wife, who clearly seems to know what’s going on. She’s enthralled, fascinated by the detailed policy discussion. Meanwhile, Rey is scribbling furiously.

“Governor Knope, one of your most-discussed achievements in Indiana is your prison reform bill, which aided the state’s recovery from the opioid crisis and restructured policing in the face of drug crimes. “Which such reforms are necessary at the national level, and how would you pursue them?”

As Governor Knope launches into a response about her work with the local police chief and how that translated into statewide work on bias training and accountability, Rey stops writing, her jaw slowly dropping.

When Governor Knope finishes, the debate cuts to a commercial break, and Rey turns sharply to her parents.

“Grandpa Ray talks about that stuff all the time!”

Amy smiles at her daughter. “He does. He’s worked hard on some of those policies in the NYPD for years.”

“But government people do it, too?”

“They can.”

“Do government people in New York do it?” Ana pipes up.

“Sometimes, but not as much as we want them to. That’s why Grandpa Ray has been working so hard--to change those things from the inside, since people aren’t changing them from the outside.”

“Oh.” Rey looks thoughtful. “Do you have to be a governor to do that? Change it from the outside?”

Amy looks thoughtfully at her daughter before starting an explanation about the endless nonprofit groups, researchers, and government employees who help elected officials make decisions like Governor Knope’s. She’s quickly cut off, though, by the music indicating that the debate has returned, which cues her daughter’s attention back to the candidates and her notebook.

----------

Amy’s surprised the next day when her daughter brings home five books from her high school library about the history of government and criminal justice reform. Rey dives in headfirst, and it’s all she talks about for months. Later that year, Amy’s just as surprised when Governor Knope surges from behind in the polls and captures the nomination, and even more surprised when she denies a strong Republican president a second term.

By April of her oldest daughter’s senior year, Amy’s only a bit surprised when Rey confidently announces that she’d like to turn down NYU and move to Washington, D.C., and study political science. When Jake and Amy are on a train back from Georgetown the next fall, having just moved Rey into her new dorm, Jake can’t stop crying about their baby moving away. Amy smiles as she pats his shoulder as their two younger children roll their eyes.

And six months after that, when her daughter calls screaming about an internship with President Knope’s special commission on national criminal justice reform, Amy’s hardly surprised at all.

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta #amy santiago #parks and rec #parks and recreation #leslie knope #well #president leslie knope #rey and ana and eli #kidfic #yall i wrote next-gen fic #about the fucking democratic primary debate #as i have been saying all day #this was an ACCIDENT #i was in a dangerous zone between parks and rec and b99 and my actual major #so anyway #my writing #lmk what you think

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

A/N - Sorry I’m clearly seriously out of it I accidentally put this as chapter three. It’s chapter six, so it is a new one. Apologies for any confusion my dumb bitch disease may have caused.

LOST IN TRANSLATION

↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER SIX ↳The school receives some bad news, and it seems you’re in high demand to help out with the solutions.

Sitting in the principal’s office was not the way you wanted to start your Wednesday morning, but at least you weren’t alone.

All of the main staff members were cramped into the small room, Principal Kim behind the desk, Min nabbing the only armchair opposite, looking half asleep, the PE teacher on a stool and the rest of you standing awkwardly or leaning against the walls.

The principal himself looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. His normally sculpted face was a little puffy around the cheeks and a cowlick in his fringe stuck up on an angle. His voice was strangely subdued, not what you’d come to expect from the boisterous headmaster. “Everyone,” he announced solemnly, “I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I feel like I’ve failed as a leader and as a caretaker, but… The school board have decided to cut funding.”

You don’t fully understand the technical jargon he uses, but the reactions of the other staff fill the gaps. Hoseok sits forward on his stool. “What? That’s ridiculous, they can’t do that!”

Kim rubs his eyes tiredly. “They can,” he admits, “because our students…aren’t exactly high achievers.”

“What does that mean?” Namjoon asks defensively.

“Other schools around the area have higher graduation rates, have national sports teams or academics. We haven’t even made regionals in anything since 2016.”

You watch silently as the staff split two ways; some like you, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin fall into a morose silence, while the older teachers get riled up. Teacher Min sits himself up, leaning over the desk and jabbing a finger at his superior. “That’s bullshit,” he spits, “those kids need this fucking school, whether they’re little Einsteins or not!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Kim messes with the papers on his desk. “I’ve been calling every friend in the industry for hours now, and they’re well within their right to cut funding if we don’t give adequate results, no matter how much the students need it.”

Hoseok whines miserably. “Oh, what do we do?”

“It’s fine,” Namjoon suggests, “we just need to provide better results for the school and then they’ll see that we deserve to be here.”

“And what if we can’t,” Min counters, “what if they do shut us down? The parents can’t afford to send their children to those other schools. Huh? Did the fucking school board think about that?”

“Do not swear in my office, Min Yoongi,” the principal warns, “this isn’t the time for anger, it’s the time for action. We have no other choice.” He takes a deep breath and turns to the coach. “Hoseok, you’ll need to pick one team that you feel has the best chance at making regionals and put all your training time into them. Taehyung, can you please start brainstorming some ways you and your class could fundraise, and Yoongi: I know there’s a national mathematics competition coming up in a couple weeks. It’s late notice, but I need you to get a team together. It seems like that’s the quickest way to get national recognition since our sports teams need to go through the regional phase. And Y/n,” you glance up in confusion when he says your name, and you’re immediately taken by the somber depths in his eyes, “I am so sorry this had to happen while you were here. Your work abroad should be a positive experience, not…this nightmare.”

You shake your head resolutely. “I want to help. I want to help you and help kids. What thing I can do to help, please say it.”

He gives you a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I appreciate that, Y/n. Truly.”

Before anyone can break the brief lull after the principal stops, the first bell of the day goes off. Teacher Min stands up from his chair with great pomp and circumstance and makes a show of stalking out of the office and slamming the door behind him.

One by one, the teachers file out silently like some funeral procession, with you tracking behind Namjoon. As you break out of the reception block and into the sharply cool air outside, a hand tucks around your elbow and pulls you aside.

You glance up, seeing the coach stare down at you with an indecisive look on his face. Behind him, you see a puppy-haired figure in a floral shirt and tan pants hover awkwardly, biting his lip.

You put your attention back on Hoseok when he says your name. He doesn’t let go of your elbow as he speaks. “I’m sorry that I’m asking this, but you said you wanted to help, and I could really use someone…would you mind coming in to school early to help me out with training these next few weeks? I think my soccer team has the best shot at competing, and I remember you telling Jin you could play.”

“Oh. Um, yes. Well, I’m not sure. The way to school alone I don’t know. I go by Jimin’s car.”

He gives you a little grin. “I’ll pick you up, Jimin’s house isn’t far from mine, and it’s on the way anyway. We start training at 6, so I’ll pick you up 5:45?”

Your heart drops in your chest and your smile becomes a little strained. “Okay.”

“Great!”

He drops your arm but gives you a delicate pat on the cheek and runs off to class. You blink dumbly, caught off-guard by that unexpected contact, but before you can look around to try and find where Namjoon’s gotten off to, you’re approached by the man who was waiting for you. He jogs up to you with relief.

“Hello, Y/n! Did you sleep well?”

You nod at Taehyung. “I did, thank you.”

“Good!” He clears his throat a little, kicking at the ground. “I, um, I’m really glad you wanted to come on the art excursion. Having extra staff always helps, especially since the parents who are helping out don’t know what they’re doing, and… Well. I’m mostly happy that you wanted to come so that I can get to know you better. You’re really pretty, you know.”

You feel yourself light up with an uncontrollable blush. “Oh, thank you! Um, you’re very pretty too. Man-pretty. The right word I don’t know.”

He breaks into a wide, boxy smile, and ruffles his hair shyly. “Man-pretty? I like it. Anyway, you should probably get to class now but I’ll come get you when it’s time to go, okay?”

You send him a warm smile and an excited nod. “Yes, okay!”

He hesitates a moment longer, eyes roaming over your face with an oddly spaced-out look on his face, then gives you a curt nod and walks away with a little bounce in his step.

You look around for Namjoon, only to see him ten or so meters away, giving you an amused grin. You flush again and jog to catch up with him.

You watch warily as the math teacher slams open the door to the staffroom, lands his eyes on you, and approaches you swiftly. You can’t help but let out a little yelp as he comes closer, forcing you to back up until the small of your back hits the kitchen bench and he cages you in with an arm on the bench either side of you. You clutch tightly on to your mug of hot chocolate. “Um, hello?”

“If I ask you something, can you promise me you’ll never tell another soul?”

Your eyes widen. “Um, it depends on what you need to ask me. Maybe yes?”

His lip quirks a little. “Okay, fair enough. If you have any respect for me as a person, you won’t tell anyone. Especially Seokjin. Or Jungkook. Or- Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

You breathe shallowly with nerves, but he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne through the wafting steam of the hot chocolate. “Yes, okay, yes.”

“Good. I need someone to help me with the mathletes team.”

“Oh, I don’t-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t push your intellect and ask you to do any actual math.” You glare at him reproachfully. “I just need someone to help me put together some PowerPoint presentations each week. I’m not good with technology.”

You snort before you can think better of it. His eyes narrow and you clear your throat, trying to school your expressions. “I can do it. PowerPoint is very easy.”

He scoffs and pulls back, finally giving you space to breathe. “It’s not that easy! Jungkook once got on my computer and changed all my font preferences to comic sans and now I don’t know how to get rid of it. And he made it so that every time I type my name it corrects to Lil Meow Meow.” He pouts cutely, though you don’t think he’s aware that he’s doing so. “I haven’t been able to put together a decent PowerPoint for my students since last May.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek and manage to keep composed enough to nod, humming a little since you didn’t trust yourself to speak without laughing again.

“Okay, come with me.”

You falter. “What? I go to the museum with Taehyung now. I don’t have time now.”

Min frowns. “Tell him you’re busy. I need you.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He sighs like he hasn’t slept in a thousand years. “Y/n, I thought I could trust you. Alright then, after school you can tell Jimin you’re having dinner with me. We can sort out the presentations for the next few days.”

Your mouth falls open a little. Would this be what your year looked like? Everyone else telling you exactly how you’d spend your time?

The door opened again, Taehyung practically skipping into the staffroom, before freezing in his tracks. “Am I interrupting something?”

Min shoots you a warning glance. “No, not at all.” He ducks closer under the pretense of reaching behind you for a tissue off the bench, and whispers directly into your ear, “will you come?”

He pulls back, holding the tissue awkwardly, and you nod at him. He gives you a curt nod back and leaves the room swiftly.

Taehyung’s mouth dangles open a little. “Uh, are we all good to go?”

“Y-yeah, we are.”

Hi all, sorry this one’s a little short, I just had four midterms and an oral test in the space of a week so ya girl was a little pressed for time! I’m on a break over Easter though so hopefully more to come soon!

TAGLIST Message me or send an ask if you wish to be notified every time I post a new chapter of Lost in Translation.

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#bts x reader #bts fic #bts au #taehyung #jimin #yoongi #namjoon #jin #hoseok #jungkook

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seotipsandtricks-me · 5 years

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Starting out as a freelance writer can be confusing, can’t it? You have no idea what steps you should take, how you should be spending your time, or if you’re even doing the right thing. But the truth is that it doesn’t have to be that way: Starting a freelance writing business simple, easy and doesn’t require any money to get started. You just need to know the right steps to take, at the right time, to get your business moving. That’s where this article comes in, because in it I want to show you exactly what you need to do start a freelance writing business. Here’s what you can expect… What You’ll Learn The 7 free essentials you need to get started 9 easy ways any beginner can make money (without experience) How to find a profitable writing niche Where to find jobs that accept beginners (at good rates) How to write a pitch that will jump out of their inbox and into your bank account Who Am I To Teach You All Of This? Four years ago I was a dead broke shoe-salesman, with £18,500+ in debt; working 10 hours a day for £5 an hour. I had no qualifications, no connections and no idea what to do with my life. That was until I stumbled across an easy system for starting and growing a freelance writing business that transformed my life, freed me from debt, allowed me to travel to over 30 different countries and generate more than $120,000 in income. Then my passions turned to helping teach others start their own freelance writing businesses. And, I’m on the mission to help 1000 people like you start and grow a profitable freelance writing business. As a writer my work has been featured in some places you might have heard of: So, Matt approached me to write this article for you because, well…I know my stuff which lead me to create the Freelance Writers School. And if you follow the steps and the advice in this article, you too can start and grow a full-time freelance writing business. What Is Freelance Writing? A freelance writer is what I like to call a “Pen for hire”. You exchange your words (or time) for money, regardless of your niche or medium. You provide a writing service to a client based on their needs, which you’ll work out in advanced or will be published in their job description. Let’s say you’re a freelance writer who writes blog posts, and you’ve been contracted to write an article for Matt’s site. You’ll pitch an idea (or be given one) and you’ll work on this independently. The amount you’ll charge will be calculated on the amount of words, or the amount of time, it takes to write an article. You get paid when he’s happy with the article (you can get paid before once you’re more established), and you work together to make it right for his readers. You’re not an employee and you’re an equal partner to your client. Whilst this is a service and you’re obligated to provide what the client wants – the same way your phone provider is – this is a relationship between the two of you. Why Become A Freelance Writer? I’ll admit I’m bias, but freelance writing is one of the greatest jobs to do. Since 2014 I’ve been able to travel to over 30 countries, relocate to Germany, write for millions of readers, help people change their lives and earn more than $120,000. All whilst being able to sit at my laptop, sip coffee, and create art. You’re in control of your income – as long as you’re willing to put in the work – and can rid yourself of the shackles of a nine-to-five lifestyle. (Or use it to grow your income outside of your job). There are drawbacks, because you have to: find your own clients, motivate yourself, do your own taxes and learn extra skills. But if you want a life that you control, to do work that you love, whilst earning $40,000+ from the comfort of your own home, then every drawback is worth it. Quick Start Checklist: Do You Have What You Need? There are a few essentials you’ll need before you get started. The good news is that they’re freely available to anyone who wants to start this type of business. Here’s a short checklist: Computer: So you have somewhere to do, and save, your work. Internet Connection: You’re here so you’ve got that down. Email Address: Make it professional – [email protected] isn’t going to woo any clients. Word Processor: You can get this free from Google Docs or you can use Microsoft Office. Free WordPress Blog: So you can have a portfolio; but also practice writing and scribble down ideas as you go. A Paypal Account: That way you can get paid. A Desire To Write: Because this job is hard if you don’t enjoy it. That’s really all there is to it. The rest of it can be learned on the job. There’s no need for any extra products, or investments. If you find you do need anything you can just learn as you go. For example I’d been writing for a year before I knew what the legal requirements for an invoice were. It didn’t stop me making money or building a business, it just gave me an extra 60 minutes work at tax time. You also don’t need any qualifications. I have none, and I failed English at college. If I can do it, so can you. Get started and learn as you go. 9 Ways Beginner Freelancers Can Make Money Before we get into the nitty-gritty, I want to show you some of the ways that you can start making money writing in the next few months. These methods have lower barriers to entry and you can mix and match them whilst you find what you like to write, and to increase the amount of income streams you have. Freelance Blogging Freelance Blogging is how I’ve made 90% of my money over the course of my career (in conjunction with option too). It’s also one of the most beginner friendly ways to make money writing because the barriers to entry are much lower than elsewhere. There are two main options you should look at: Content Marketing: Writing blog posts for companies who are using blogs, social media and SEO to grow their business. Helping Bloggers: Lots of successful bloggers don’t have time to create all of their content anymore. You can come on board and help them with their workload. (100% the most fun way to earn money). Unless Google drops off the face of the earth tomorrow, or people decide they don’t want independent help and advice, then this is a way of making money that is here to stay too. Freelance Website Copywriting One of the easiest ways to break into freelance writing is by helping people create the copy for their new website. Here’s the thing: Hundreds of people get new websites made for their businesses every day. But they have no idea what they should write there. And why would your local plumber have any idea what they should write? Two of my first ever clients were local businesses (they were across a corridor from each other, so when I landed one I landed the other) who needed their websites writing for them. I saved them money doing it with the agency, and they helped me get my business off the ground. If you can find a local business with a new website where you can easily see they need better writing, or get friendly with a local design agency, you could find an endless stream of income. eBook Writing If you’re a specialist on a topic – let’s say from your past job, or what you studied at college – you can get your break into the industry writing eBooks for people. My first ever freelance writing job came writing a fitness eBook for a client through Elance (now UpWork), because I was a personal trainer when I was in my teens. Take a look at this video interview from Dave Koziel and Aleksander Vitkin: Dave’s entire business is built on freelance writer’s creating eBooks for him. And that’s just one guy. Think of how many sites sell eBooks, or offer them as a free download. Podcast And Video Script Writing Think Podcasters and YouTubers do everything off the cuff? Think again. Many of them have scripts that they work from to keep them on track and focused. And, even as a beginner, you could be the one to write them. One of my students, Rebekah Donovan, got one of her first gigs writing for a podcast in the health niche, without any experience as a freelancer. Transcription Speaking of Podcasts, Transcription is also a great place to get your foot in the door because it’s a non-skilled position. (You’re basically getting paid to write what someone said). However it can be incredibly valuable content for an online business. So, if you see a podcaster using transcription, you could be the one to help her. Translation Do you speak a second language, or is English not your first language? If so, there’s a market for you here. Many bloggers and content writers want to reach a wider audience, and if you can translate their content into: German, Spanish, Russian, French, Arabic, Chinese or any other language where there is high demand for content, you may have a niche. To make a professional note: you need to qualified to be a translator. However if you’re a fluent speaker of two languages, many potential clients won’t mind, as long as it’s accurate. Just be sure to declare up front. Review Writing Review’s come in a lot of different forms. You’re on an Internet Marketing site so you’re probably only thinking Amazon and Digital Product reviews, but your scope here fits into any niche: Product Review Writing: Amazon, Digital or other. This can extend into blog posts too, like this review Matt did of SERPed. And if you really want to grind, you can get paid by services like DooYoo to write reviews too. Show And Performance Reviews: If you’re interested in the arts, you can get involved with publications that will pay you (or at least cover expenses) to go and review shows. I got plenty of experience doing this with a local publication. Service Reviews: You can be hired to write a review on services in your niche. For example, writing about the customer service provided by a hotel or a retail chain. These all branch off into their own mini-niches too, that you’ll find as you become familiar with the niche you’re writing for. Product Description Writing When someone once asked me what I do for a living, I read out a mental list of topics and he said, “Oh yeah, I suppose someone has to write all of them!”. What he was referring to was Product Content Writing. Take a look at this random page for a fridge on Amazon that I pulled up: Someone has to write them, right? And they’re readily available jobs. I once went through and wrote product content for over 200 customer claims sites. It was as mind numbing as possible, but it sure felt good when I got that pay cheque. Ghostwriting Here’s a surprising fact: Many bloggers, business owners and even authors don’t personally write all of their own content. Often they bring in someone like me, a ghostwriter, to help them with their workload and create content they otherwise wouldn’t have been able to write. In all niches you can find clients screaming out for ghostwriting clients, and if you’ve got the ability to adapt and change your writing voice, this can be a long-term contract that pays well. Step Find Your Writer’s Niche Choosing a freelance writer’s niche is damn scary. By saying “I only write in this niche”, it feels kinda like you’re shutting yourself off from thousands of other paying clients you could work for. And, you are… But that’s a good thing. Let me explain: Working in a niche is kind of like playing a video game. At the early levels you get all of the lowest grade items, small payouts for your quests and all of the higher level characters can kill you in one swipe. But as you progress the levels, and specialise is a skill – magic, stealth, strength – you start getting better items, bigger payouts, and those n00bs will think twice before they try and fight with you. The same goes for niching down. At the start – where many freelancers spend their time – you can only get the low-paying entry level jobs because you’re not good enough, knowledgeable enough or well-known enough. But once you get through those entry level jobs and start working yourself up through a niche, you build a portfolio and can start writing for other higher paying clients and begin commanding, $60, $100 and even $200+ an hour for your services. So whilst you decrease the amount of total clients you can work with, you increase the amount you can earn. In this section you’re going to learn how to find your niche and unlock a world of higher earning potential. Start With The Past… When I first started thinking about niching down I had no idea where to look. I didn’t feel like I had any real interests and skills (outside of writing) that could make me any money. I told my Mum about this problem and she just looked at me like I was an idiot. “You’ve got lots of skills, what are you talking about?” she said. She ran upstairs, grabbed me a pen and paper, and told me to write down ten things that I’d done, achieved, enjoyed or read about in the last five years. Here’s what that list looked like: Worked as a personal trainer Backpacked around Australia and Europe Coached soccer in America for one year Was the highest KPI seller in my retail store Played in a semi-professional rugby league Mentored an 18 year old through his fitness instructor program Written guest posts for Lifehack and Addicted2Success Learned basic Spanish Read a lot of books on productivity and business Took a Salsa dancing class It was surprising to me to see how many skills and pockets of knowledge I had that were at least above a complete beginner level. Although not all of them were winning ideas, the options in bold are what I felt I would be comfortable writing about for a larger audience. . If you feel that you don’t have any knowledge or skills you could write about, I’d highly recommend trying this task for yourself, and don’t underestimate any skills you might have from the past. To steal a little from Ramit Sethi, even speaking English is a skill! Follow The Money The next best place to look for your writers niche is where you spend your money. This is usually a great indicator of what you’re interested in, and topics you could write about. As I wrote about in this article, you can look at: Recent Amazon purchases Recent eBay purchases Courses and classes you’ve taken (both online and in-person) Your direct debit / monthly subscription payments Items you’ve always wanted to buy (but never had the budget for) The types of books you buy Are you the kind of person who spends $50 on a haircut? Perhaps there’s a career writing in fashion and grooming. Are you the kind of person who takes Thai cooking classes? Food blogs might be calling your name. Are you the kind of person who has subscriptions to SERPed and Ahrefs? Then maybe a life of SEO writing is in your future. The Drill Down… Once you’ve fleshed out all of your ideas, you’d do well to group them into their major niche categories. This could look like: Travel Fashion Internet Marketing Technology The final step is to drill your niche into its relevant sub niches and where you can write for them. Each niche has a tree that looks a little like this: For example, if you were to write in the travel niche this could break down like this: And if you want to write in internet marketing – much like I did – you might find a breakdown like this: Each niche and sub niche will have businesses, blogs and podcasts associated with them. This is where you begin to really see all of the opportunities in your niche and where you can begin to look for jobs. What If My Niche Doesn’t Have A Lot Of Money In It? Trust me, it does. Unless you’re into Albino Badger Wrestling or Bon Jovi Themed Horse Racing Events, you’re going to be able to be able to find at least one form of income. Although, those niches probably need freelance writers too. You can break down a niche into a lot of different chunks and there’s money to be made in all of them. Take your niche – I’m going to use Travel for this – and explore to see which of these elements it has. Blogs Perform a quick Google search of “your niche + blogs”, for example, “travel + blogs”: If there’s blogs about your niche – which there will be – here’s one really lucrative opportunity for you to Freelance. In fact the more niche you go, the more money you can make for blog posts, because writers are few and far between. For example, Model Railroad Hobbyist will pay a minimum of $230 for a blog post about model rail interests. And, as AllFreelanceWriting.com points out in this article, some writers have made over $1000 writing for them. Companies With Products If there are businesses in your niche selling products or services or information, there is an opportunity to make money with them. For example, if I look for Travel Companies on Google I find STA Travel. On their site there is a section about Adventure Tours: Somebody has to write all of this copy, why not let it be you? Think of how many pages there are like this across the internet that you could get involved with. For every page on the internet, there’s a chance to write great copy (at a price). Affiliate Programs Where there are affiliate programs there is money to be made. For every product you can find here, there are blogs and niche sites and businesses making money from them. And, all of those sites need copywriting to sell those products: Not sure of the opportunities here? You can create: blog posts, sales pages, product reviews, website copy. Just about anything that involves writing and can help sell a product. This Step In Short Take some time to explore the niches that you want to work in. They can be based in: Your past experience Where you spend your money The topics you’re interested in Then explore the niche a little bit deeper; what products or services need you to write for them? Are there bloggers, product reviews, industry websites, news sites et al. that you could create for? If you get this step right, the rest of your business will effortlessly click into place. Step Where To Find Freelance Writing Jobs Online In this step I want to show you where to find freelance writing jobs. Don’t worry…you don’t need to pitch to anyone yet. But as early in your career as possible you should get into the habit of checking job boards, content sites and classified ads. Why? So you can get used to what a job description looks like, the little nuances in them, and seeing which work you’d like to do (and which you wouldn’t). There are three sub-sections to this section: Advertised Jobs: How to find people that are actively looking for writers. Non-Advertised Jobs: Choosing who to pitch to and finding those hidden jobs. Super Secret Insider Info: Simple methods I use to find clients that work. They’re all easy to do, they just take practice, but you’re never more than an email address away from your next client. Easy Places To Find Advertised Jobs These are the easiest types of job to find because they come from clients who are actively seeking your services. They normally come in the forms of: Freelance writing jobs Boards Website Job Alerts Classified Ads Content Sites (like UpWork) You can find all of these freelance writing jobs online for free. But keep in mind that they’re often high competition and low paying. They should be used as a tool to help you build your business and not as the lifeblood of it. However I have found lots of clients here and built long term relationships with them, that have grown both of our incomes over time. Not all the jobs here will be in your niche(s), but that’s completely normal and the whole point of having a niche! That being said, let’s look at how to use them effectively… How To Effectively Use Freelance Writing Jobs Boards Freelance writing jobs boards are the place to find mid-range job with established clients. Some people will say that job boards need you to be a better writer, but I don’t think that’s true. You just need to be good enough to get paid. Below are the only job boards I’d recommend looking at. The rest are normally rehashed links back to the pages here: ProBlogger All Indie Writers FreelanceWritingGigs.com Blogging Pro They all compile freelance writing jobs that have been posted there, or direct you to jobs posted on classified sites giving you the cream of the crop. There’s not much to this, really. You don’t need to sign up or do anything magical. You can just start bookmarking freelance writing jobs that you like the look of. I’ve used this method to land some of my most consistent clients like Nichehacks and Canva, so you’ll definitely be able to find some higher paying work here too. Setting Up For Freelance Writing Jobs Alerts If you’re interested in taking on high-paying, corporate clients, you can use job alerts to notify you of work that is posted in your niche. I use Gorkana for freelance writing jobs alerts because they have a ‘Journalism Jobs’ section; but you can also sign up to specific job boards, or use Matt’s advice in this article to set up Google Alerts. Don’t read too much into the titles of jobs on these job boards – like Journalist or Customer Content Creator – they’re just business jargon. All you need to do through a site like this is set your filters, find a search that suits your needs and then choose their update option. Like this email subscription box here: That gives me a lot of emails a month, like the ones below, with job information. These are usually pretty effective because they don’t just send you needless updates, they send them out only when a job gets posted: Classified Job Postings Classifieds are an underrated job search tool, but they can be highly effective. There are even services like FreelanceWritingGigs.com that pool the best of the best together for you for free. You can look for these job postings a little closer to home as well using sites like: Craigslist GumTree ClassifiedAds And refine your search under the jobs section of your local area. Like so: Getting Stuck Into Content Sites Content sites are a great stomping ground for beginners. You can get a lot of experience, and get paid for it because of the sheer volume of jobs. I wrote about all of these sites more in depth in my huge article about all the ways to make money online. But, here they are in short for you: Freelancer UpWork Guru People Per Hour iFreelance The lessons you’ll learn in this article will help you get jobs on these sites. But if you’re looking for a more tailored experience for this type of freelancing you can read this article about how I made $1,593 a month from UpWork and how you can too. That’s it for advertised jobs, time to move on to unadvertised jobs. Dig Out Those Unadvertised Goldmines There’s an unwritten rule in Freelancing that says: The highest paying jobs are never advertised. And it’s one of the most true statement you’ll ever hear. In fact, a solid 90% of my client base right now didn’t advertise their jobs. I went to them, or they were referred to me, and they’re willing to pay more. I don’t know why it works that way, but you’ll just have to accept that’s the way this world works. But that begs the question: how do you know to pitch to them if it’s not advertised? The short answer is that you don’t. You just have to go out there and speak to people, network and find out what they’re looking for. However there are a few strategies you can employ to make your search a little easier. Finding People To Cold Pitch Earlier you looked at breaking your niche down into categories – like Blogs and Companies – now you’re going to use those same searches to find people to pitch to. When I first got into the Internet Marketing Niche, I’d look for the parts of the niche that interested me: Social Media SEO Blogging Then I’d narrow them down even further to find what I could write about. Take social media, for example, there were a two options open to me: Blogs about Social Media Social Media Tools So I’d go and look for all the social media tools I could. Which lead to me pitching to Share As Image (now Stencil) and becoming their Content Manager. And, to me landing an epic blog post spot on Buffer: Think of how you can apply the same to your niche. What do the different parts of your niche break down to? You can find: Blogs Retailers Manufacturers Corporate Sites Tools and Plugins Local Businesses Fortune 500 companies And from all of those you can break down even further, like if you were to look at retailers for the travel niche, that could be: Hiking stores Camping equipment Travel Agents Online Guidebook Shops That’s just the tip of the iceberg as well. There are probably hundreds more options on top of that. Be thorough. Dive deeply into your niches and find all of the options of companies that will need writing in some form, as you looked at before. From there you can add them to your list of people you can write a cold call email too. Finding Referral Clients If you don’t have any clients at all this is a step for the future. But, I can show you how to get around that in the next section. Referrals are one of the most powerful ways of landing a client. Because you come with a guarantee, from someone they know, that your work is of a high quality. I regularly send out emails like this to clients, asking if they know of anyone who is looking for a freelance writer. And, sometimes you land a winner. Like when our very own Matt referred me to Colin Klinkert of SERPed, where I became the content manager there. Search For Local Clients You have a huge network you’re not even aware of. Like, seriously. Just cast your mind out to all of the people you know and all of the people that they know. There is an endless supply of people who could hook you up to a new client. Think: Friends Family Old Classmates Current Classmates Old Work Colleagues Current Clients Old Clients Your Hairdresser/Barber Your Social Media Friends People You See When You Walk The Dog The list goes on and on and on. Who’s to say what’s going to come your way through these channels? Two of my first ever corporate clients came this way. A Training Company and a Language Interpretation service that operated across the hall from each other. The first owner was my cousin’s best friend, the second just came and sat in on the meeting and chose to buy in. There will be hundreds of businesses in your local area that other writers have never even thought to pitch to, either. While they search the furthest reaches of the internet, why not walk into their building and request a meeting? And, as Sean Ogle once told me when I interviewed him for a Podcast (that never actually aired): “Get to local events – conferences, marketing events and anything else. There is no substitute for meeting people in person.” You can find a whole host of these events on MeetUp or pay attention to local publications and magazines. 2 Super-Secret Insider Methods For Finding Online Jobs There are some really easy other ways of finding clients, too. In fact they’re right under your nose and they can be accessed easily. Here they are… The Upside-Down Method I want to share with you the most effective way I’ve found of getting to write for people. These are instantly warm or hot leads you can pitch to, and the success rate is much higher than any other way I’ve tried. Take a look at one of the online magazines or blogs in your niche. And, find for times that a freelance writer has contributed. Usually they’ll have a biography that tells you they’re a freelancers, like this bio from Kristi Hines on Nichehacks: Now, even if there’s not a link in their profile, almost all freelancers have an online portfolio – whether that’s on their own hosted site or a free WordPress blog – so you can find that by searching in Google for their name (include freelancer or blogger if their name is really generic): Once you’re on their site, look for pages with names like Portfolio or Latest, where they show you a list of the clients they’ve worked (or are working for) by sharing their latest or most successful posts: Right in front of you right now there is a full database of potential clients that are open to having freelancers work for them. They’re at least paying one freelancer so they’ll be open to others, too. Using this method – including Kristi’s Site – I’ve been able to land writing work with a lot of big, high paying clients. Oh, and stay tuned for a niche little tip on pitching later on, too. The LinkedIn Lead Generator This process is a similar to the above. But, with a little twist that you can guess from the title. You do it on LinkedIn instead. Once again, find yourself a freelance writer on one of your favourite publications in your niche. Then, instead of looking for them on Google, go ahead and search them on LinkedIn: From there head down the page to find their Freelance Work Experience. This will either be under the tab of their company name, like it is for Kristi here: Or under different experience tabs like it is on my personal LinkedIn Profile: Once again you have a tonne of companies to reach out to and pitch to because they’re interested in freelancers. Don’t worry about stealing income from that freelancer, either. Normally you’ll be working in-addition to them so it’s not like you’re taking food off their table. You’re just putting it on your own. Okay, that’s how to find potential clients all wrapped up. Now, how can you actually get them? This Step In Short Freelance Writing jobs can be found in three different ways: Advertised: Where it’s posted on a freelance writing jobs board, forum or freelancer site etc. Unadvertised: Where you contact a company or person unsolicited looking for opportunities. Referral: Where friends, family or current clients send new clients your way. Advertised jobs are best found on job board like ProBlogger Jobs or Freelance Writing Gigs. Unadvertised freelance writing jobs take some searching; but you can use methods like The Website Hijacker to find companies that are open to working with freelancers. Or, get involved in your local community and find the people around you who are open to it. Referral clients come from asking the question and generating warm leads from people that you know. This can be a great method of automating your marketing. Step Build Your Sales Tools Writing is far too subjective for someone to determine what makes a good writer and what makes a bad writer. You can see it for yourself in literature. There will be writers and novelists who have a huge following but write in a way that you just can’t stand to read. I can’t bear to read Harry Potter, but J.K Rowling is still out there making a fortune. The way someone can choose whether you’re a good writer, then, is: Whether they like your writing style How good your portfolio is If other people have published your work What other people say about your writing They won’t even use all of these. They’ll be happy with just two or three of them. So don’t worry if you can’t tick all of these boxes. Heck, most freelancers can’t hit all four of these when they move from one niche to another. But you do need to do need to be able to showcase your work to people, in order to land the client. So let’s look at how you can start to build these up. A Rock Solid Portfolio Your portfolio is where you can show people your work and let them make a decision for themselves. There’s no right or wrong way to do a portfolio, but it should be: Frequently Updated Relevant To Your Niche Relevant To Your Skills I’m going to show you a few different examples of portfolios so you can get an idea of what I mean. Portfolio Simple And Visual This portfolio from Copywriting Is Art is simple, but really effective. If you’re going for a copywriting angle, this is a great one to follow: Simple imagery gives it authority and is easy for people to see that there is an endorsement of his work. When you follow the links through the image you get a comprehensive breakdown of the work done, too: Portfolio Direct Links This portfolio is my own personal one at JamesWritesThings. I use screenshots of my posts, with headlines that link directly to them: Again it’s simple and effective, but it serves to show people I’ve been published elsewhere and can be trusted to write for their site. When they see a site they know, it’s also a big bonus. Portfolio Excerpts And Logos This final portfolio comes from Erin at The Travel Copywriter. She again uses visuals – much like the graphic I showed you at the start of this post – to create a sense of authority: And to create less of a barrier between a potential clients and buying from her, she’s added excerpts of her articles with additional links to grab attention: Your Portfolio, Then… You can see in all the above samples that they aren’t anything special. They don’t sing and dance, they just provide the information that’s needed. So don’t worry about needing a big ol’ website full of widgets. Just create a space – using a site builder or WordPress or your own domain – and put your work online. But, What If I Don’t Have Portfolio Pieces? Great question. If you’re getting started you won’t have anything that even resembles a portfolio yet. And that’s okay, I’m going to show you how to create a portfolio from scratch, with little to no effort. There are two steps to it. Step Start Your Own Blog Start a blog about your Niche and start writing it. Use different techniques, use different styles and start writing as though you’re creating for a huge audience. You don’t have to share it with anyone if you don’t want. You can have it on a private link for all that matters. But you do need to give people an opportunity to see your style in the context of your niche. Step Find Freelance Writing Jobs And Complete Their Tasks I used to use this method a lot when I first started writing. Because, it gives you something more tangible to work with. And, they can go on the blog you’re going to start. Head to one of the freelance writing jobs boards or content mills and find a job posting. It doesn’t matter if it’s current or expired. Look for one with a pretty specific description, like this one: Then just go ahead and create an article or piece to that specification and stick it on your blog. This process has two benefits: You get to experience what clients are looking for and work to specification You get to build out your portfolio with real-world examples You can even go the extra mile and screenshot the job and present it to a potential client you’re pitching too, so show what you’ve done. Anything that gets you noticed from the other freelancers that are entering the field. Okay, there’s another way you can pad out your portfolio and gain endorsements from people. That section deserves a whole section of it’s own… Guest Posts Guest Posting is my go-to strategy for building a profitable portfolio quickly. It gives you valuable experience working with someone who will publish your work. It also teaches you to work to guidelines, deliver to an audience and what it’s like to have your content published. For example, the guest post on Buffer that I mentioned earlier has brought me a tonne of emails like this: And having written for sites like Addicted2Success and Lifehack and got a decent amount of shares showed that I could write for a big, well developed audience too. Landing guest blog posts is a whole topic within itself. So when you choose this option, I’ll hand you over to this expert post from Venchito Tampon. Testimonials Testimonials are powerful pieces of information. In fact, 90% of consumers say that online reviews impact their buying decisions. So these glowing endorsements from people can play a huge part in this. This Step In Short There are three components you need to sell your online: Portfolio: Where potential clients can get a feel for your style, tone and the results your work can deliver. Guest Posts: Having an endorsement of your work on someone else’s site, even if only slightly relevant to your niche, can have a big impact on converting customers. Testimonials: These reviews of your work – from paying customers – can be the final blow in converting a client. Seeing a glowing recommendation can put their mind at ease and make them more likely to buy. You can build a portfolio yourself by just writing blogs for your niche, or by finding jobs and writing them for your own site to gain experience. Guest Posts can be obtained by following the link in that part of the section. Testimonials can come from anyone who has seen or used your writing and can be built up over time. The sooner you get someone to write one though, the better. Step Writing Pitches To Get You Clients Pitching is a numbers game – more on that in the next section – but you can create pitches that grab attention. In fact, I’m not only going to show you how to pitch: I’m going to give you my own pitching strategy that you can copy and paste for yourself. But first, let’s talk about what makes a good pitch… Pitching To The Right Person The first question about pitching is usually: Who do I pitch to? This is an important question because it can make or break whether you get spoken to or if you just get lost being passed around between departments in a company. If you’re applying for an advertised job this is usually posted, like in the footer of this posting here: But when you’re not it’s a little more difficult. There are three points of contact that you need to look for: Direct Email: The best you can find is a direct email. This is usually to an editor, marketing manager or content marketing executive. Department Email: There are often emails that go to someone in a department – marketing etc. – that you can get through to someone on. Contact Form: If there’s nothing else find a contact form under the ‘contact’ page on a site or a publication Email Tools: You can also use a tool like Hunter.io to help you find the most contacted emails for the site. And if you really can’t find anything you can use this sneaky little hack that I came up with. When you’re on a site that you want to get in touch with go to the footer where you’ll often find tabs like this: Click the Terms & Conditions tab (or Disclosure policy as it’s called here) and it’ll bring up a page full of legal jargon. A quick search of the page and you’ll be able to find and email contact, like this one right here: Gotcha. Now, you can pitch to someone in the company and find a way to the right person. Pitching 10 How To Stand Out From The Crowd Considering freelance writers are a group of individuals paid to write things…you suck at writing pitches. Sorry, it’s just the truth. Don’t worry, I did too. In fact, so did every freelance writer I know at one point or another. Because pitching is hard. You’re trying to convince someone to pay you instead of the hundred other people they could choose from. It’s a daunting proposition. That usually means your pitches go on far too long. They miss the point. Or, they’re too short for anyone to know why you’re even writing to them. But I’m about to give you a simple acronym to help you remember how to write a perfect pitch every single time. It goes like this: Personal Easy To Understand Top-loaded Accurate Lean Okay, it’s not exactly the most masculine acronym I’ve ever created, but I know you’ll never forget it. PETAL pitches are the best kind, because they’re guaranteed to get responses. I’ve taught them to lots of writers and they’ve always come good. Let’s break them down: Personal Personal is simple. When you’re writing to someone, you should address them by their name. This will normally be the prefix in their email (‘james’@pitchtome.com) or on their job description. If that’s not available I’d suggest you opt for a “Hey Guys”, or “Hi Team” because it sounds a lot more personal than just “Hello”. Easy To Understand The people you’re pitching to often receive a lot of emails. So you need to be clear, concise and focused on why you’re writing to them. Especially if you’re cold pitching to someone who doesn’t know they’re being pitched too. Basically you need to make sure nothing is lost in translation. I usually combat this by saying exactly why I’m writing to them. Like: My name’s James and I’m a freelance writer from Manchester, England. I’m writing to you to see if there was any room for a freelance writer on the Company X team? I think I’d be a perfect fit! Now they can make no mistake about why I’m in their inbox right now. Top-Loaded There’s a rule in Newspaper writing: Put the most important information at the top and put the least important at the bottom. Because newspaper editors cut the information from the bottom of the article. The exact same rule applies to pitching. Put the most important information at the top incase they don’t make it to the end of your pitch. You’ll see more on how that’s done in the copy and paste section next. Accurate You need to state what you’ve done. Where you’ve worked. Provide information that’s relevant to the job you’re pitching for. And, any additional information that’s required. Lean As a writer it’s normal for you to…waffle on. You know, write more than is necessary. It comes with the nervousness with a pitch. But follow this rule for writing your pitches and you’ll be fine (this is stolen from Winston Churchill): A good pitch should be like a skirt; short enough to be interesting long enough to cover the subject. The 100% Golden Rule Of Pitching You Must Obey If you disregard everything else you learn about pitching in this article please remember this simple rule: Read the job description. When you’re pitching for an advertised job there will be part thrown in there to keep you on your toes. Specific requirements that will affect you getting the job or not. The most common form of this is them asking you to put something in the pitch to prove that you read it. Like this job pitch where I had to put two specific words in the subject line: So make sure you go through everything with a fine tooth comb before you send anything. Copy and pasting is great, but not if it loses you a job. The Copy And Paste Pitch Template Okay, so that’s how you should be pitching to get clients. But I’m about to save you a lot of time by giving you a fill-in-the-blanks pitch for you to use. You can edit this however you want but it is a sure-fire template that will help you land clients: But James, What About The Headline? I didn’t forget, I promise. I’ve tested a lot of different headline techniques and I’ve found two that work, at least for getting people to reply to your emails. The first, if you’re applying for an advertising job is to put a simple subject like this: But if you’re making a cold pitch, the undisputed best headline in my experience – and that of other writers I speak to – is to ask a question in your headline. I can’t tell you why this works, but it seems to be really effective. Toy around and find your own unique stamp. Play with headlines and ideas to see what’s going to get you the most return. Okay, you’re getting on to the final section, are you ready? This Step In Short People are pitching to your potential clients all the time so you need to craft pitched that make you stand out from the crowd. To do that, remember this (manly) PETAL acronym: Personal: Written directly to someone; in a conversational but professional tone. Easy To Understand: Be clear about what you’re writing or pitching to them for, and why they should care. Top-Loaded: Put the important information at the start and make it less important as you go down the pitch. Accurate: It should fit you, your niche, the job description and what your capabilities are. Lean: Short enough to be interesting; long enough to cover the subject. Always remember to read the job description and edit your pitch to fit the specific client you’re talking to. Ask questions in your headline, or reference the job listing, to get the best open rates. Step Setting The Right Price Let’s talk money. I’ve purposely saved this until last because it’s the most highly debated topic in freelancing. And, I want to make sure it get’s the coverage it deserves. But, I’m not going to spend too long telling you about it. Why? Because, regardless of the arguments for and against what your prices should be, it comes down to you. Let me explain… First, It’s About What You Want To Charge… More to the point it’s about what you feel comfortable charging. When you first step onto the scene you probably won’t feel like you can charge $100; you’ll not have the portfolio to back it up, either. So don’t charge it. If you feel comfortable charging $10, charge that. Then up it when you feel comfortable charging $20 and $30 and $40 and so on. But do remember you have to put food on the table and you need to respect your time. After all, you can’t get it back. I started at $10 and hour, and I now comfortably charge $60-$100+ an hour depending on the project. Secondly, Don’t Worry About Pricing Out One of the best lessons I learned came from the team at Nifty Marketing. In this post they share how they set themselves a minimum that they refuse to budge on to attract the calibre of client that they wanted. Set a minimum price that you will not go under by any stretch of the imagination. It can be whatever you think it needs to be, but don’t just take work for the sake of it. Respect yourself and be proud of what you will work for, as well as what you wont. Thirdly, It’s About Negotiation… Always be open to negotiation. Now if you have a minimum prices, that’s the lowest point you can negotiate to. But also be open to negotiations on different things. For example, let’s say you pitch $50 an hour and your minimum is $30, you have $20 wiggle room to negotiate with there. There’s nothing wrong with having different prices for different clients on different projects. It’s the way the freelance world works. Different Pricing Structures There are a couple of ways that you can charge client with freelance writing. Hourly Rate This is exactly what it says on the tin; the price you’ll charge per hour. This can chop and change depending on the client, too. It’s not unusual to charge $30 for one client and $50 for another, because the jobs come with different specifications and require different levels of effort. And, as you saw in the last point, you need to be open to negotiation. I’m terrible at Math, so the simple way I use to work out an hourly rate is: How many words per hour How much research is needed The average price of work in that niche For example if you have an easy, stream-of-consciousness style article in the Self Help niche. That would charge less because you can get 1,200 words out an hour on that, you don’t need as much research and you can wrap it up in just a few hours. Also, the payment in that niche is lower. But if you have a really niche, in-depth topic, that requires a lot of research – like SEO or Engineering – you would charge more. Why? Because not only would you be writing less per hour, you’ll be spending a lot more time writing and referencing. You’ll also have to block out a bigger chunk of your day to do it. The price per hour is also dependant on your experience. If you’re an established expert you can charge more than if you were the new kid on the block. Price Per Word We don’t mess about with the clarity of our titles in writing do we? Price Per Word is one of the most common pricing strategies. I use it for almost all of my articles, especially on those longer articles – like this one – because it often works out fairer for you and the client. And, it’s easier to pitch. When a client hears 15 cents per word it sounds better than $150 for 1000 words. I use a similar system to the above for working this out. If you’re productive you can really increase what you earn per hour. Price Per Project This is a standard pricing package for small businesses and copywriting clients. For example, when I created the copy on this training company website, I set a fixed price for all of the content: I find the price per project is normally based on your hourly rate, the hours you’re expected to work and a negotiation with the client. You can create a lot of ‘savings’ benefits here for a client, too. Where it feels like you’re doing more work and saving them money. Negotiated Prices Each client and project has it’s own specific needs. So, it pays to have a flexible option where people can talk to you and you will flesh out a price together for the work that needs to be done. This works on a per-client basis. Getting Paid There are a number of ways you can get paid, too. This is usually when you bill out when you receive money: 100% Up Front: This requires a built up level of trust but once that’s established it’s easy to employ. 50% Up Front: Clients are often open to this method – 50% up front, 50% on completion – because the risk is lower. Upon Completion: I don’t usually employ this method unless it’s per word pricing or with a client that I really trust. Because you can retain the rights to the article until they pay, there is also the option to keep it and sell it on if you do get stiffed. Insider Tip: The Subscription Payment Model Okay let me lay a little bit of insider knowledge on you: Clients are sometimes flaky. They’ll need six articles one month, two the next, disappear for a couple of weeks, come back with more work than you can handle and then drop off the map forever. That’s just the nature of the beast. Not all clients are like this, but there is always a level on inconsistency. But there is a way you can make it more consistent and guarantee yourself an income. You just need to employ a subscription model. With every client that that likes this model they agree to: A fixed number of hours or articles per month For a set price To be paid at either 100% or 50% up front For a fixed-term (three, six, nine months) That way you are definitely getting paid and you have guaranteed work every month. Clients are usually pretty responsive to this model too so don’t be afraid to pitch it. This Step In Short Setting the right price is personal to you. There is no right or wrong price to charge. Just what you feel comfortable charging, the value you offer and where you’re positioned in your niche. But, as a rough guide, I’d suggest these prices: Beginner: $20-$30 per hour / $0.05 per word – $0.10 per word Intermediate: $35-$50 per hour / $o.15 – $0.20 per word Expert: $50+ per hour / $0.25 – $0.50+ per word Look to employ a subscription payment model, or a 50% up front model when you’re negotiating with a client to make sure you get paid. Step The Extras You Need To Know About In this step I want you to explore some of the ways to improve and refine your business. And, learn about other technical aspects of the job. Project Briefs Every piece of work will come with a brief. Sometimes that can be professional and in the shape of guidelines, like this: Or it’ll be in a brief document like this (text covered, just in case): There are also times where you’ll be asked to create the project brief. Or, it’ll come in the form of an email chain or a written on a napkin or something illegible you have to decipher for yourself. But it’s essential that before you start on a project you create a clear brief for you and the client. Point out what it is you believe you should be delivering and if that is in line with what the client wants. There is nothing worse – for you and a client – than going in blind and hoping you hit the target. It’s a waste of time and effort. Ask as many questions as you need to and go into as much detail as possible. The clearer the picture the better the end product. Offering Revisions I don’t recommend offering any more than two rounds of revisions. Why? Because you’re a good writer. And you’re crafting articles or content based on what an audience wants. You’ve done you research and you’ve decided this is the content that is going to work. You do have to pay attention to what the client is saying and offer some changes based on what they ask for. But by the same token you have to respect your time and the decisions you’ve made. As long as the article is in line with the above revisions and the thoughts laid out in the plan, then you’re fine to only offer limited revisions. Invoicing I didn’t know this when I first started out, you may not have either, but there are minimum legal requirements for an invoice that you need to meet. More than just slapping what you did and your price on a sheet of paper or in a document and sending it across. If you’re creating your own invoices follow one of these links to see what requirement your country has (English speaking countries only): United Kingdom United States Canada Australia New Zealand But I highly recommend using a service like FreshBooks to manage your invoices. You can just input the client data, send it across, and the rest of it is taken care of for you. They also come with a tonne of different payment options too: Contracts / Terms & Conditions A contract can come in many forms and has to be made up of certain criteria, like this one from HMRC in the UK: Contracts will sometimes be sent to you to be signed, others will be be an email correspondence or done through a Skype call. And, there is a good chance you will never have to enforce a contract, but you should have one in place. They cover your back; make sure you get paid the right amount for the right amount of work; cover your client and make your business more professional. Much like a project brief, be clear in: What’s being done When it’s being done by How much it’s going to cost What the end product will look like What you’re offering For example, you could do all of this in one sentence: “Hey Matt, So I’ll going to be writing How To Become A Freelance Writer Online, it’s going to be 10,00o-15,000 words at the rate we agreed for the last article, and I’ll have it done by April th, is that correct? Cheers, James” They accept it. You’re covered. It’s that simple. Recommended Reading & Development Phew! Okay, onto the last bit now. Like I said right at the start of the article, you don’t need any qualifications to become a writer. But there’s a lot you can read and practice on to become a better writer and create stronger, more impactful content. Here’s some of my biggest recommends: Write To Sell – Andy Maslen: Probably the best book on Copywriting I’ve ever read. It’s not long, but it’s really in-depth and clears up a tonne of questions you have early on. On Writing – Stephen King: If you’re trying to create content with a story feel to it, this book is an endless supply of hints and tips to create them. Made To Stick – Chip & Dan Heath: Amazing for finding out how to write and create articles that people remember. Wrapping It Up… I hope by now you have a clear picture of what it takes to be a freelance writer and how to start your business the right way. It may seem overwhelming at first, but it really is as simple as choosing one of these steps and taking action until completion. As Matt often says, “Keep it simple, stupid”, and it’s a motto that works here too. And if you want to take all of the information from this article and learn how to put it into action, you can also take my free email course where I’ll show you a simple trick to help you get your business to $1000 per month. You can sign up here. The Ultimate Guide To Freelance Writing Jobs For Beginners [2018] was originally published on Matthew Woodward

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