#i have to submit my research plan on tuesday

[willesredlights]

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[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for September 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ I long for that feeling to not feel at all by @ineverateakiwi [NR, 2k, Louis/Harry]

When he is not around and Harry needs to feel more grounded, steady on his own feet, he thinks of Louis. It's probably not healthy to rely on someone this heavily, but it's better than nothing. It's what he has right now. And, right now, it's working. Is thinking about that feeling, the feeling of being real, being alive, that he whispers – without thinking – those two words. — "Hurt me."

Harry needs to feel something, even if it's pain. Louis gives what he needs.

＊ where the real you is the superstar by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [T, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Louis has lived in his tiny beachfront town his whole life, and doesn't know if he'll ever leave. Harry is constantly moving around, but when he meets Louis, he can't help wishing this could be the place he might stay. Just because the summer is temporary doesn't mean it's not worthwhile.

＊ Just a Little Taste, Babe by @allwaswell16 [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Harry’s been pining over Louis Tomlinson since their sixth form days. Now, he’s backstage at Louis’ concert and trying not to embarrass himself.

＊ make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face by localopa / @voulezloux [E, 24k, Harry/Louis]

things could be worse. harry doesn’t know what could be worse than being forced to do a tell-all interview with his ex friends with benefits that he still harbors feelings for, the only person he could ever see a future with, the person who truly hates him so much, he can’t help but hate him right back. but surely, worse things have happened at sea, right?

＊ Necessities of Nesting by @haztobegood [G, 5k, Louis/Harry]

“I know this is a sensitive topic and you probably don’t want to talk about your nest with me. But I have a friend that teaches nesting classes. Maybe they could help.”

“So you agree: my nest sucks and I’m a shit omega.”

＊ A Tight Space by haztobegood [T, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Niall pushes the bedroom door open. A huge mass of brown fur bolts between his legs. Louis startles with a hand to his chest.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Oh, that’s the cat. I told you Liam found a stray a few days ago. That’s him.”

“Are you sure that’s a cat?”

＊ The Grundy County Corn Maze Incident by haztobegood [T, 2k, Niall/Greg James]

Niall was getting tired and a bit worried about actually getting out of the corn maze. He had lost track of time and the fun was wearing off. Then, he heard someone shout for help. Part 3 of Grundy County Incidents

＊ Special Instructions by haztobegood [T, 2k, Zayn/Louis]

He didn’t mean for the drawings to become a thing. But they have. Every Tuesday night around eight o’clock, a take out order from Louis T. appears. Each order has new special instructions, requesting some change to the carefully curated dishes that Zayn has concocted. And every Tuesday night, Zayn doodles a response to those special instructions.

＊ A Wrench and a Rodent by haztobegood [T, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Louis just wants to study astrophysics, do some research, and graduate from Casper University. Fate throws a wrench in his plans.

＊ Language Of A Petal by @bittersweetsin [E, 15k, Harry/Louis]

“Wait, you're reading Divin-“

“-Divined Souls? Yup,” Harry finishes for him.

Starving off a grin, Louis says, “Have you actually been stalking me all this time and just lied about not knowing me?”

“Guess we’ll never know.”

or Louis is a librarian, and Harry comes in all the time to return books he’s finished reading. Every time Louis opens the book to check for any damages, there’s always a flower hidden in between one of the pages, specifically on a paragraph that has a deep meaning.

＊ Come and See My Dreams by @lululawrence [NR, 3k, Louis/Harry]

In a world where alphas traditionally built nests as part of the courting rituals for their omegas and rarely outside of that, Louis felt drawn to nest for his best friend from the time he was young.

Now, it was finally time to present the nest to Harry.

＊ a moon, a rainbow, and a carnation by lululawrence [NR, 8k, Louis/Oscar Isaac/Pedro Pascal]

“I swear they’re secretly dating or maybe even married at this point and are just trying to see how long they can keep it under wraps or something. Not quite sure what the deal is, honestly, but they swear up and down that they’re just friends whenever anyone asks.”

Louis chuckled. “Too bad. I’d have happily gone after either one of them, honestly.”

“Or both,” Calvin said, waggling his eyebrows.

Or the five times Louis, Pedro, and Oscar have incredible chemistry and the one time they finally admit to the feelings.

＊ 'Cause What I Want Came True by lululawrence [NR, 1k, Louis/Diego Luna]

Diego had been… unexpected. From the moment that Louis had walked into the coffee shop and seen him sitting there, he was surprised. He’d known Diego was attractive, the few photos he had shared on the dating app had made that clear, but there was something about seeing him in person that made him feel… more.

＊ (Whoops) Here We Go Again by lululawrence [NR, 4k, Louis/Oscar Isaac]

“I’ve got you,” Oscar said as he confidently hit the eight for Louis.

Nodding his thanks as he shyly tucked himself into the corner so the others who needed to could exit easily on their own floors, then Louis sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to cover his smile.

It didn’t mean anything, because of course it didn’t. They’d shared an elevator a few mornings a week for months now, but still. He remembered.

Or the one where Louis and Oscar have been seeing each other regularly on the elevator at work for almost nine months. Maybe it’s time for something to finally happen between them.

＊ Duck Crossing by lululawrence [NR, 2k, Louis/Diego Luna]

“So, what exactly are we doing?”

Diego’s brows rose in surprise at the same time Louis started hearing what sounded like quacking. “You don’t know?”

Louis scrunched his nose a bit and looked over towards where the quacking seemed to be getting louder. “I don’t. My sister sent me to the discord without explaining what was so special about the town’s ducks, and when I went to ask about it, I somehow got roped into helping you here tonight instead, so…”

Diego laughed before he looked up and down the road, where several cards were still making their way around. “This is going to be fun for you, then.”

＊ Curiosity by @hellolovers13 [G, 934 words, Louis/Harry]

Fae Harry lets curiosity get the best of him.

Human Louis is intrigued.

＊ Sweetest Poison (series) by @hellolovers13 [E, 7k, Harry/Louis]

It takes all his willpower to keep Harry from devouring it all now. Consume the raw energy that flows through it. Let it become part of him. Let it fuel and rejuvenate him.

But it’s too soon.

or Nothing like starting the day with a little bloodshed.

And coffee.

The barista is cute, too.

or Witch Harry finally gets rid of his latest boy toy. Who will be next?

＊ The Nest by Blue_Green28 / @bluegreen28fics [T, 5k, Harry/Louis]

Harry is a very particular omega who doesn't like to have items of Louis' in his nest until he secretly starts to steal them for it. or, 5 times one of Louis' personal items is missing and 1 time he finally finds them. (5+1 fic for Week 1 of Wordplay Challenge, Prompt: "Nest")

＊ Perfect Now by Blue_Green28 [E, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Timestamp for "We Are World Class" Harry gets frustrated because he wants to wear his wedding suit to the Oscars. After his second pregnancy the trousers don't fit anymore. Louis tries to reassure him that he still looks beautiful. Part 2 of World Class Universe

＊ You make me strong by Blue_Green28 [T, 3k, Harry/Louis]

While Louis is carrying the happiness of Great Britain on his shoulders during the European Championships finale, Harry is carrying something else. (Week 3 of Wordplay Challenge 2024, Prompt: Carry // Time stamp for "We Are World Class", can be read without knowing it) Part 3 of World Class Universe

＊ Home by Blue_Green28 [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

Louis comes home after his festival tour.

＊ Kiwi - It's your business! by Blue_Green28 [E, 22k, Harry/Louis]

When ex-boybander Louis Tomlinson asks newcomer Harry Styles to be his support act for the next leg of his tour, he has no idea that he will gain more than just a support act. or, the one with the banter on tour

＊ Nest by @kingsofeverything [G, 100 words, Harry/Louis]

Harry wakes up first.

＊ Tight by kingsofeverything [NR, 100 words, Louis/Harry]

Louis comes home early.

＊ Carry by kingsofeverything [NR, 100 words, Harry/Louis]

Baby bump.

＊ Press by kingsofeverything [E, 100 words, Louis/Harry]

Louis asks for it.

＊ now that we're alone (say you hate me) by 28goldensfics / @28goldens [E, 18k, Harry/Louis]

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are Co-Project Managers, constantly bickering at work, always finding themselves at odds, and competing to be the best. When a scheduling mishap with their company’s timeshare forces them to share a summer vacation, they're less than thrilled. But, as they navigate their time together, they realize that their animosity might be masking something a bit deeper than the hate.

＊ my sun, my everything by 28goldensfics / @28goldens [E, 5k, Louis/Harry]

based on the top harry fic fest prompt:

41 - Louis has been making a lot of self-deprecating jokes lately and Harry is sick of it. Ensue Harry worshiping Louis’ body like it’s his favorite god.

“You’re like a god,” Harry said softly, his voice reverent and full of wonder as he pressed a chaste kiss to the peak of Louis’ cheek which caused his eyes to shut gently. “Every part of you is so divine.”

Louis' eyes fluttered open, a mix of surprise and coyness in his gaze. “You think so?”

Harry nodded with absolute sureness, his hands moving slowly to undress Louis. He strategically unbuttoned Louis' shirt, his touch lingering beneath the fabric as if to savor each exposed inch of skin he revealed.

“Your body is a fucking masterpiece,” Harry murmured, his breath warm as he leaned to press a kiss against Louis’ bare chest. “Every curve, every line—it’s all so perfect.”

＊ Do You Know Who You Are? by @eulogiseme [M, 145k+, wip, Harry/Louis]

Doncaster was meant to be a fresh start for Harry, a chance to let go of his past and start a new life. But it doesn’t feel like it when Harry finds himself tormented by the arrival of Louis Tomlinson. Cocky, confident, and a huge flirt, Louis can’t keep away from Harry no matter what Harry says.

Upon his return, Louis is occupied with starting his business with Zayn and dealing with his family’s illegal business. Things start to get messy when Louis is conned by a dealer, and also can’t seem to get a certain pair of green eyes and dimples out of his head.

The one where Louis wants Harry, and Harry doesn’t know what he wants, or who he is. Though, he can take a good chance and guess that perhaps wanting Louis might just cost him everything.

＊ something told me it was you by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 1k, Zayn/Louis]

Are you ready, 'cause I'm ready to let go Never thought that I'd be ready again

＊ 'til I let go of this moment by we_are_the_same [M, 3k, Zayn/Liam]

Zayn and his terrible horrible no good Olympics. Where he wins gold and Liam’s heart.

Featuring Liam’s unfortunate big penis

＊ and in those rare moments by we_are_the_same [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]

London, May 23rd, 2025

Interview with Harry Styles, popstar, bisexual icon and philanthropist, by Louis W. Tomlinson.

＊ circling the truth by we_are_the_same [T, 3k, Liam/Louis]

Liam Payne has met his soulmate.

He knows he has, because he woke up with his power this morning.

Problem one: he has no idea who his soulmate is. He saw a ton of people last night, because it was the introduction party for the uni he is now attending. He’d talked to at least a dozen people, and he’s unsure on what counts as ‘meeting’ your soulmate, because it might just be someone he’d bumped into on his way to the loo.

Problem two: his power seems to be that he can read minds.

＊ even if it's strange, it's our love by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [G, 520 words, Zayn/Louis]

Zayn makes a hedgehog friend on his new farm and it changes his life in completely unexpected ways.

＊ I drink the honey inside your hive by yeah_alright [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

Louis comes home frustrated and riled up in the way that only taking exactly what he needs from Harry can fix.

＊ Help me out of a jam? by yeah_alright [M, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Harry's tightened a jar beyond what he can open. He asks Louis for help, because Louis is always more than obliging.

＊ Carry the One by yeah_alright [T, 100 words, Louis/Harry]

Five times Louis carries her best friend and one time Harry carries the love of her life.

＊ Keep You Sweet in My Memory by yeah_alright [M, 6k, Zayn/Harry]

Of course Harry is the type to have a leather bound journal filled with pressed flowers. Zayn stops at one so delicate looking that he can’t believe it withstood the pressing process. It’s simple – a single layer of small, white petals with just a bit of yellow in the center – but Zayn can’t help but stare. His eyes rove over the subtle details frozen in time, somehow maintaining their softness despite having been crushed into two dimensions, and he feels almost hypnotized. He’s not aware of his hand moving until two fingers brush over the petals.

An image so vivid and sudden that his eyes snap shut in shock floods his mind and he pulls his hand back as though it’s been burned. The second his fingers leave the page, the image is gone, too fleeting for his memory to capture it.

“What the fuck?”

Zayn's only just getting to know Harry when he discovers he's able to store memories of people he loves in pressed flowers. At least that's what Harry tells him. Zayn has a choice: run away or accept Harry's invitation to learn more.

Harry's magic may be too powerful to resist.

＊ this time I'm willing to dance on the wire by yeah_alright [E, 3k, Harry/Louis]

A few days after leaving her shitty boyfriend, Harry goes back with Louis and their friends to collect the rest of her things. When her ex comes home to find them there, Niall, Zayn and Liam keep him away while Louis makes it known how much better off Harry is with her. Part 3 of Sin Wagon AU

＊ Deemed and Delivered a Crime by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [E, 35k, Louis/Harry]

Harry keeps his voice low and calm. “I need you to listen very closely because I’m only going to say this once.”

When he’s only greeted with silence on the other end, Harry continues.

“For every hair that is harmed on Louis Tomlinson’s head, I am going to break one of your bones. And then when you’re reduced to a pathetic little pile on the floor, my men and I are going to kick around your limp carcass in my garden for footie practice. Do you understand?”

There’s a few more beats of silence, before the voice on the other line answers. Still sounding calm and unbothered by Harry’s creative threat.

“I’m glad you received our message Mr. Styles. Are you ready to settle on a suitable sum for Mr. Tomlinson’s release?”

(Or the one where Harry is the most feared mob boss in London. Louis is his ex-husband who left that violent life two years ago to teach Uni. His peace is shattered when he’s kidnapped by Harry’s rivals).

＊ The Road So Far (series) by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt [G, 12k, Harry/Louis]

Harry Styles, an Angel Of The Lord, is sent on a mission to save hunter Louis Tomlinson from the deepest pits of Hell in order for him to fulfill Heaven's plan.

＊ hold all our secrets (series) by @justanothershadeofblue [E, 9k, ot5]

One Direction was unusual as a band with two betas in with the expected omega popstars, but they achieved global stardom in spite of it, traveling the world as a five-part sensation until beta Zayn left and the rest of the band went on hiatus shortly after.

Years later, they're all living their separate lives, pursuing separate careers to varying levels of success, until a headline breaks: One Direction had a secret alpha all along.

＊ Buns of a Feather (series) by @tommokat [T, 3k, Louis/Harry]

Bird hybrid Harry has been with his boyfriend, rabbit hybrid Louis, for a while. They're about to take a big step in their relationship and Harry needs to show Louis just how serious he is about him.

＊ I've Got What You're Craving (For Your Misbehaving) by tommokat [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]

"You've been so patient, haven't you, angel?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Sub Louis gets treated by Domme Harry and the age old question of why women go to the bathroom together finally gets answered.

＊ Stand on Holy Ground (series) by @wishingforloushair [E, 17k, Louis/Harry]

Priest Harry eats Louis out and then fucks him on the altar in the Sanctuary of the Church

“Father Styles?” a voice behind him comes, making him jump slightly. He’s used to people interrupting him. After all, that’s why he leaves the large wooden doors propped open. The church was a sanctuary for everyone. Who was he to stop God’s children seeking out the truth? He closes his book, suddenly aware of how much his knees ache from the flagstone floor as he gets back to his feet, turning around slowly. Standing in the centre of the aisle is Louis. Louis, who comes to confess all his sins to Harry, every day on his knees, little begs of forgiveness tumbling from his lips. Louis, whose ridges and bumps Harry feels under his fingertips almost as often as he feels the ridges and bumps of the Word. “Hello, Louis,” he smiles, placing his Bible on the altar next to the Communion chalice. “Come to confess?” He watches carefully as Louis’ eyes darken a little, his lips parting. “Yes, Father.” It’s part of their charade now, a dance that he knows well. “Why don’t you go close the door then? I think you and I, and God, need some alone time, don’t you?”

- Podfics -

＊ [Podfic] White Stripes by @allwaswell16 read by Panda_Podfics / @pandapodfics [E, Louis/Harry]

Harry’s roommate is gorgeous, kind, generous, and basically everything Harry has ever wanted in another alpha. The only problem is that he isn’t even sure that his alpha roommate is into other alphas. In an effort to finally get over him, he lets Niall set him up on a blind date.

- Fic Fests -

＊ Wordplay Fic Challenge / @wordplayfics

Prompt 1: Nest Prompt 2: Tight Prompt 3: Carry Prompt 4: Press Prompt 5: Interference

[seriousacademic]

Posting this to get it out of my head and into an accountability sphere:

I'm sick.

I have a meeting with my chair/supervisor tomorrow morning and an upcoming deadline. I always feel the (self-imposed) pressure to produce on Mondays so I'm ready for the Tuesday a.m. check-in.

I recently had a setback/detour of maybe about a week when I discovered halfway through my literature review that there was an entire paradigm for my research that I had just discovered/hadn't read about. (Read: the paradigm is essentially the entire focus of my research. Woo. Everything prior had been adjacent) so I powered through dozens of articles while also juggling course assignments and a full-time job. And was understandably burnt out.

But then I shook it off, got back to writing, and wrote up a couple new sections for the lit review. I planned to repeat that level of productivity today, reasoning that I'd wrap up the final sections and revisions in time to submit my draft in a week.

Except I'm sick.

I've been wrestling with this all day. I can barely focus. I can barely hear myself think.

I've tried to come up with little productivity bits I can do to feel like I'm still making progress.

But what I need more is to rest.

Tomorrow, I'll talk about my progress and aim to have a draft ready for the following week, and see what she says.

The scary thing pounding through my head is, "what if you really actually need TWO weeks?"

And to that I say: then one Monday of not writing wasn't going to make much of a difference, then.

So now I'm curled up on the couch and am giving myself grace to rest and stop wrestling with the hustle.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[musefulness]

New Update: Exams are coming next Monday & Tuesday! used to be 3 days but now it's only 2!

I'm currently on a break from roleplaying! Countdowns and deadlines are overwhelming.

Only two mornings of exams, and I'll have relative freedom! I still need to submit a couple of assignments, and I have a research project to work on in the coming semester. I'll have no more classes after my exams, and it will all be just me sending chunks of my Master's thesis to my supervisor weekly from the comfort of my home!

Very soon, I'll add more muses to my list.

In Genshin: Yelan, Kaveh, Sethos & Neuvillette! (this is a second priority. I'm focusing on HSR) As for HSR: Serval, Sampo & Dr. Ratio!

And also, after my exams, I plan to revive one of my dead side blogs by turning it into a multimuse one, in which I will write good number of anime/manga & game protagonists! (Goku, Luffy, Naruto, Natsu, Tanjiro, Yuji, Rimuru, Ruby, Aether/Lumine, Caelus/Stelle, Wise/Belle, Rover, you name it!) Most of these blorbos will be canon divergent, and I would prefer for interactions there to be following the themes of comedy & crack. No action, only unhinged convos ☠️ (I can only afford to write in one action thread at a time. I'm not an AI)

I'd be more than happy if duplicates interact when that blog is ready, and in this one too! Like seriously! I was hyped up when my Xiao & another Xiao met! I need more of that but with other characters too. WE NEED ARMIES!!

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Darcy's breakup diary - day 3

Today was a good day and a hard day

Things I did to help myself heal/that made my day better

made plans with her to meet tomorrow to do the exchanging of things. i have some sweaters of hers, she has some things of mine. we decided to get it out of the way, kind of like ripping off a bandaid

agreed after the swap we'll go no contact for a bit to allow ourselves space to heal

i got myself some comfort food (thai) bc it reminds me of Luke Alvez and @lklvz (we went to that thai place when she came to visit me)

went to a museum with the history department at my uni. i saw one of my friends and i made more friends!!

drank strawberry tea in a strawberry mug wearing my strawberry oodie and strawberry earrings. i also ate a butter tart.

told my grandparents. my grandmother told me that if i had broken up with a guy she would have told me to take care of myself, and it's the same thing in this situation. i agreed and laughed bc i love watching grandparents try to figure out the gay thing.

ate more peanut butter treats

the social media purge. archived our posts. muted her stories for a bit so she's not the first thing i see each time i open the app

submitted one of my papers for consideration for my university's journal! thought it might be fun to try to get some of my research published. i'm taking a risk! pushing myself! we are working towards bigger and better things in all aspects of life

Hard things

making the plans with her to meet. (sometimes things can be good AND hard.) I cried in the mall food court waiting for my dinner

getting good news about my mom's recovery (she had brain surgery a few months ago) and not being able to tell her)

realizing i'm not going to have a valentine

Silver linings

realizing through our conversation that we both agree that there's no anger, there's no bad blood. we both have so much love and respect for each other, and that this was the best decision for us. even if it stings.

knowing she doesn't hate me and she's doing okay

One of my friends commented that I had missed class on Tuesday (the morning after the breakup) and asked if I was okay. I told her, and she was understanding and sympathetic. this conversation made me feel seen and loved in a platonic way. my presence (or lackthereof) is noticed. I am missed.

[derpsternium353-blog]

Le Epic Blog Intro

Alright, here goes nothing. My funny yoshikage ass intopost.

My name is Derpsternium, you may call me derp. I'm 20 years old. My (current) residence is in the downtown section of Atlanta, where all the dorms are, and I am not married. I study as a sophomore at Georgia State University, and I return to my dorm nearly everyday at 5-7PM at the latest. I don't smoke, I don't drink, but I would be interested in taking an edible if anyone offered one at a party or something. I'm in bed by midnight, and make sure I get at least five hours of sleep, no matter what. After having a midnight snack and chatting on discord or watching youtube in bed for two hours, I usually have no problems sleeping until 7 in the morning. Just like a baby, I usually wake up without any fatigue or stress in the morning. I wasn't informed of any issues at my last checkup, but I'm waiting on the bloodwork results. I participate in my campus's YDSA org. I take care not to fall into... how the fuck do I translate this part to me? uhhhh.... That is how I deal with society, and I know that is what brings me happiness. Although, if I were to fight I wouldn't lose to anyone.

Fuck it. My pronouns are He/Him, I'm a Bisexual guy who wants to be a Journalist, and I love playing strategy games, watching youtube video essays, and roleplaying on discord.

Is that good for now?

I think it'll do. I have to get packed so I can head to the Student center when it opens. I have two big assignments that have been worrying me.

Media Writing Final, a How-To Article on a topic of our choice, I chose Managing Blood Pressure. I have to find two people to interview. I've already interviewed one, but I have to get another interview because I need to submit this thing by end of Wednesday.

Oh, and our final paper for sociology is also due on Wednesday. It's four pages, five paragraphs.

I think my plan is to complete all the research on monday, the drafting on tuesday, and the final submission on wednesday. It's crunch time. Then I also need to worry about my Spanish Final Exam, and finding a job over Winter Break so i can stop leaching off my financial aid refund exclusively. Hopefully one that's unionized.

Shit, I'm rambling. I gotta get packed.

[ireceived-p8250000]

September 28-October 5, 2013

Sunday:

I spent the day working on some edits, studying, and doing chores. Laundry piled up, and I tackled it while reading my new Komiksmachine. The blend of mundane tasks and leisure created a peaceful rhythm to the day.

Monday:

Lecture and discussion filled the morning. We started conducting experiments based on the methods we just learned, and our group’s plan got approved. Meg, the older and more experienced one, took the lead.

Later, I attended my first Aikido class. It was challenging, each movement requiring focus and coordination, but I felt a sense of accomplishment by the end.

Tuesday:

We delved into neurological disorders in class, a topic both fascinating and sobering. During Economics, we had a mini-reporting session, and then came History class. As I walked in, my heart raced. I had to muster a lot of energy to act nonchalant. Sir Apollo and I exchanged glances that carried a weight of unspoken words. The memory of our kiss lingered, and I found myself rubbing my lips together.

After Ecology, I met with Mansoor. We went to Starbucks and talked, then I led him to a secluded spot near General Luna. The absence of people gave us a sense of privacy. I hugged him and kissed his cheeks, then his lips. He froze, and panic gripped me.

"Sorry!" I blurted, horrified by my impulsiveness. "I should have asked you, I'm sorry!"

He laughed and kissed me back, deeper this time.

"It's okay," he said, laughing and brushing my hair. "That was my first kiss. I've really wanted to do that."

I kissed him again, just a light peck.

"I liked that," he said, making me feel all fluttery inside. For a moment, I felt like I had erased the memory of Apollo’s kiss.

Wednesday:

We started gathering respondents for our experiment, mostly boys or people we knew. The process was fun, full of laughter and camaraderie. We did computations and broke down our roles, the teamwork making the tasks enjoyable.

Thursday:

Abnormal Psychology included a small role-playing session. English 7 had readings that were engaging and thought-provoking.

In History class, we began lectures on Rizal. I met Myla, a cheerful and talkative friend. During a downtime, I was reading Nick Joaquin, and Sir Apollo suddenly grabbed the book. We discussed it briefly, but I acted disinterested.

A storm was brewing, and it rained heavily as I headed home, soaked to the bone. Mansoor was with his family, so I spent the evening alone.

Friday:

We had an organizational meeting about the upcoming sportsfest. Our first experiment report was due, and Ma’am Jean paired Mansoor and me together again as an example. The class squealed, making it clear they suspected something. I appreciated Mansoor's efforts to keep our relationship discreet.

After class, I attended Aikido. Mansoor and Hollmae hung out nearby. Once Hollmae left, I kissed Mansoor again, just a brief peck. We remembered it was our second-month anniversary.

Saturday:

We submitted our case study journals. I fabricated my case study, describing someone with depression and PTSD, sourced from online research. It seemed the easiest way to complete the assignment.

In History class, I learned to joke around with Sir Apollo, easing the tension. He asked about my well-being, specifically if my harasser was still bothering me. I assured him he wasn’t. He inquired why I no longer worked at the bookstore, and I explained I quit to ease my parents' worries.

He nodded, and I caught him glancing at my legs.

"That's great," he said with a smile.

Later, we had another meeting to finalize plans. We decided to rent the Green Valley Sports Center for the sportsfest.

It was my mom’s birthday, which I nearly forgot. I bought a cake and cooked a special meal. That day, I also received 10,000 pesos for my job, bringing my total savings to 33,000.

[nathandiary]

Week 3 breakdown

Monday:

group crit with Chris and fellow illustration students. I was able to show my progress on the magazine and everyone was very encouraging. I also asked for constructive feedback with the fox illustration so I can rework it later. Found out the 10 credits project is this semester and not the next one.

I started thinking about my portfolio for the masters. I learned that the school I want to go to is focusing on social problematic and ecology, so I can bring that aspect forward. They’re also into typography (perfect with the lead type thing)

Had the idea to create a poetry book from excerpts taken from my notes app. It also allows me to use lead type and lino cuts. I ordered lino so I can get started this week.

Tuesday:

did sketches for the rodents illustration, so I’m ready to get started with the clean underdrawing

chose the notes I want to use as poetry and did some thumbnails. Did the cover which is simple but it works

Wednesday:

had art history and Spanish

did most of the figures for the rodents illustration underdrawing

had a panic attack

Thursday:

printmaking day

had a tutorial and presented my project. Might explore artist’s books if I have time this semester, if not I’ll still do it later (Christmas break?) + I have that one domestika course on book binding I still haven’t watched

cut and printed the first illustration for the poetry book which turned out great (encouraging!)

spent most of the afternoon printing the text bit. The print turned out better on newsprint than on the fancy paper, I need to use litho ink and a hard roller in the future.

I need to think about a way to have a satisfying physical print with this project

Think of something to submit for the silent auction

Did the self evaluation and started the blog for RPP (yay.) => self evaluation was really helpful to identify themes in my work, I need to do research on those

Friday:

RPP talk: I am starting this weekly breakdown which will be helpful to stay motivated and on track

Finished the rodents underdrawing and did the ink version too

Traced the fox illustration so I can fix it and redo it next week

Action plan:

Call école de condé to find out what kind of content I should have in my portfolio (only finished work, artist research and influences, work in progress…?)

Ask Chris for support with the portfolio

Call the computer repair shop to ask if they got my keyboard to get my s key fixed!!!!!

Update CV and send it to Lewis for review

Do thumbnails for poetry prints

Think about submission for the auction

Hit the library for some research: theme of growing up, generational anxiety and trauma + ways lead type has been/is used by artists.

Buy paper for prints

Goals for next week:

Finish fox and rodents illustration

Scan them, finish the featured article double spread (send to chris to put on the wall)

Do 1 comic

Print 1 linocut and its text

[lastsonlost]

Woke' warriors on San Fran school board deny gay white dad with bi-racial daughter place on volunteer parent committee because he's not diverse ENOUGH!

Seth Brenzel, a gay white father of a bi-racial child, was denied a spot on the San Francisco Board of Education's volunteer parent committee

The issue of whether to allow Brenzel to volunteer for the 15-person parent advisory council was debated for almost two hours on Tuesday night 

His candidacy faced opposition from some board members and members of the public who argued that there wasn't enough diversity on the council 

Those who opposed his candidacy were concerned with the fact that he is white 

The 15-person council currently only has 10 members: Two black mothers, one Asian-American, three Latinx, one Pacific Islander and three white 

Brenzel, who is the executive director of a music program for children, is openly gay. He lives in San Francisco with his husband and their young daughter

If approved, Brenzel would have been the only father on the council 

The issue of whether to allow Seth Brenzel to volunteer for the 15-person parent advisory council was debated for almost two hours on Tuesday night during a board meeting. 

The parent advisory council, who had unanimously supported Brenzel to join their all-female committee, had submitted his name to be approved by the school board. 

His candidacy, however, faced opposition from some board members and members of the public who argued that there wasn't enough diversity on the council - even though there are five seats currently empty.

Those who opposed his candidacy were concerned with the fact that he is white. 

The 15-person council currently only has 10 members: Two black mothers, one Asian-American, three Latinx, one Pacific Islander and three white. 

Brenzel, who is the executive director of a music program for children, is openly gay. He lives in San Francisco with his husband and their young daughter. 

If approved, Brenzel would have been the only father on the council. 

After the lengthy debate, the school board eventually decided against voting on his appointment at all and asked the council to find alternate candidates for them to consider. 

Brenzel's appointment to the council was just one of the agenda items for the meeting that ended up going for seven hours. 

Another item on the agenda was about reopening San Francisco schools amid the COVID-19 pandemic. 

It is the same school board that last month voted 6-1 to strike the names of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln from the district's institutions.

As a result, 44 schools had to change their names after board members deemed the historical figures to have ties to racism or have 'dishonorable legacies' despite basing the decision on incorrect Wikipedia articles. 

The issue of diversity was a main argument in deciding whether to appoint Brenzel to the council. 

One person, only identified as Tara, said during the meeting: 'They are not a diverse group of parents as far as I have seen, I have noticed and have observed.' 

Others who opposed Brenzel's appointment argued that the council 'does not even mirror Joe Biden's cabinet' and that other 'voices need to be heard first before white queer voices'. 

Commissioner Matt Alexander - who described himself as the lone white board member - had said that it seemed 'like the white members are over-represented on the P.A.C.' and that there was an under-representation of 'Arab, Vietnamese, Native American folks'.

'I'm probably going to get complaints now I'm telling white parents not to be involved or something. I want to be clear, that's not what I'm saying,' he said, before later adding that 'white parents also in the city tend to have a lot of privilege and power and access the board of ed in various ways.' 

Several others, however, defended Brenzel's candidacy, pointing out that he would bring diversity because he is gay and a father.

'I see no reason why Seth should not be confirmed. I think this is just honestly just a political show so you can say that you stopped a white person from getting on,' one speaker said. 

Another member of the public said: 'I'm very upset we are focusing solely on race. Seth would be the only male on the pact. He would be the only LGBTQ member. He has a bi-racial child.

'I mean, this notion of oh, he's just a white person therefore we can't have him, it's absolute nonsense. There's diversity beyond the color of our skin and I think it is important to consider diversity beyond just race and the intersectionalty of parents.

'We are all diverse in our own way and Seth brings a lot of diversity to a pact that has no men and no LGBTQ parents.' 

It comes as the school board president Gabriela López, 30, defended last month's decision to rename the 44 schools honoring historical leaders who have since been branded by activists as racist.  

San Francisco Unified School District had been criticized for voting by 6-1 last month to change the name of one-third of the city's schools.

Parents and residents became concerned when it emerged that historians had not been consulted by the renaming committee.

Instead, committee members allegedly used references from Wikipedia and other non-scholarly sources to determine which personalities were racist and problematic. 

Several of those citations have now been proven to be factually incorrect, including a false claim that American poet James Russell Lowell did not want black people to vote and that Paul Revere's military activities were tied to 'the conquest of the Penobscot Indians'. 

Gabriela López, the head of the San Francisco Board of Education, continues to defend the decision claiming in a tense interview with the New Yorker that she doesn't want to 'discredit the work that this group has done' despite their use of inaccurate information.

She claimed that she did not believe the names had been selected in a haphazard way, even after being read a list of the misinformation that was used in some of the decisions. 

'No, because I've already shared with you that the people who have contributed to this process are also part of a community that is taking it as seriously as we would want them to,' Lopez argued about the errors made in the research process. 

'And they're contributing through diverse perspectives and experiences that are often not included, and that we need to acknowledge. 

'What I keep hearing is you're trying to undermine the work that has been done through this process. And I'm moving away from the idea that it was haphazard,' she said in the strained Q&A. 

Lopez also pushed back on the complaints that historians were not consulted as part of the process. 

Among the names included on the list that had provoked pushback from residents and historians was President Abraham Lincoln.  

Lopez said that she did not believe Lincoln was a person she would 'admire or see as a hero'.

'I think that the killing of indigenous peoples and that record is something that is not acknowledged,' she said.

'It's something that people are now learning about, and due to this process. And so, we just have to do the work of that extra learning when we're having these discussions.'

Lopez also claimed that the renaming was only facing criticism because 'people will always have a problem with the discussion of racism', not because of the inaccurate information.

'That is what I know. That is why I'm getting death threats. That is why people aren't open to other possibilities. Because when we have this discussion, that's the outcomes no matter how good it's set up, no matter how open we are,' she said. 

'No matter what, people are going to have an issue with that. That is what I know, given my experience. Of course, I'm hearing what you're saying, but I don't think it's going to change the outcome. People are still going to be up in arms when we're doing this.'

Among the other criticism received by the city's board of education was that it had voted on the renaming when there appeared to be no plan in place to bring students back to in-person learning.

'What I cannot understand is why the school board is advancing a plan of all these schools renamed by April when there isn't a plan to have our kids back in the classroom by then,' San Francisco Mayor London Breed had said.

The city of San Francisco has also since sued the board of education and school district claiming they have violated a state law that required districts to adopt a clear plan during the pandemic as it relates to in-person education.

Lopez claimed that it is 'completely false' to say they don't have a plan and accused to the mayor of jumping at 'any opportunity to cause further division'.  

[graces-of-luck]

Well-being and Amatonormativity: Call for Submissions (Carnival of Aros, August 2021)

Word count: 405 words Reading time: Approximately 2-3 minutes Content warning: Amatonormativity

The Carnival of Aros is a monthly blogging carnival with themes related to aromantic and aro-spec identities and experiences. More information can be found here.

Theme

As a mental health researcher, I find it important to gain more insight into the well-being of aromantics and the potential relationship with amatonormativity. Being aromantic can be a wonderful experience, but larger societal systems and standards can create barriers and issues for many of us.

Amatonormativity is pervasive and can potentially prevent folks from living their full lives. While this affects everyone (even alloromantics), aromantics can be particularly affected by amatonormativity. It can impact us in numerous ways, from making it difficult for us to have fulfilling relationships to preventing us from being able to afford housing. From a survey of about 1,000 aro-spec respondents, 72% felt that it had a negative impact on their mental health. How much of an impact does amatonormativity have on your well-being? Prompts below.

Prompts

Generally, does amatonormativity have a negative impact on your life, especially as an aromantic person?

How much of an impact does amatonormativity have on your mental health, specifically?

Do you feel that amatonormativity impedes you from getting your needs met in any way?

Which areas of your life are impacted the most by amatonormativity?

Does or did amatonormativity have an effect on you coming to terms/accepting your aromanticism? Does it or has it had an impact on you coming out?

How does amatonormativity affect your a) present situation and b) future outlook?

What are some things you do to mitigate the impact of amatonormativity on yourself, such as with self-care practices?

How do you live your best life despite the challenges of amatonormativity?

How to Participate

Write a blog post or create content related to the theme- any platform is acceptable as long as it is public and has a link. Then, submit the link to me through Tumblr (https://graces-of-luck.tumblr.com/ask) or email (gracesofluck@gmail.com). If you don’t have a place to post your own work, you can email it to me, and I will host it for you on my Tumblr. If you would like me to include particular pronouns or (user)names with your submission post in the round-up, please let me know.

Deadline and Round-up

Please submit your posts by Tuesday, August 31st. I plan to release the round-up by Saturday, September 4th.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me!

Cross-posted on Wordpress.

[thetravelerwrites]

Dr. Mael Halvorg (Part 2)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationship: Male Part Fae/Female Part Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Fae, Naga, Reader Insert, Anthropology, Genetics Content Warnings: Children, Pregnancy, Incubation, Infertility, Birth, Oviposition, Egg-Laying Words:

Commissioned by @ivymemnoch​! The reader and Dr. Halvorg discuss his lingering infertility problem. Amai lays her final clutch of eggs. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Good morning, class!” You said on the first day.

“Good morning!” Fourteen bright voices responded.

All of the children except for baby Yenu were sitting on their tails behind desks in a room that had been set up as a classroom by the staff.

“So, every day each week we’re going to work on a different subject,” You began. “Mondays are reading and language comprehension, Tuesdays are maths and sciences, Wednesdays are social studies and economics, Thursdays are geography and history, Fridays are fun days with arts, crafting, music, and educational games. Today is Monday, so we’re going to start with reading. You should each have a workbook appropriate to your developmental level in your desks, so please take out your reading workbooks.”

As the children shuffled and searched for the right book, Dr. Halvorg stepped inside the classroom with a clipboard. You raised an eyebrow.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I’m observing the children in a school setting to see how they adapt,” He replied.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And I’m also assuming how I teach, correct?”

He dipped his head sheepishly. “I was curious. And it’s for my research.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Mm.” You turned back to your students and fell into your teacher’s voice. “Keenai, if you would begin reading the first sentence, please?”

Keenai picked up his workbook and started reading. “The small dog lives in a red house.”

“Can you tell me which of these words are verbs?”

“Um…” He looked at the sentence, frowning.

“To remind you, a verb is an action word, something someone does.”

“Uh… lived?” He replied slowly.

“Very good.” You said, and he smiled in relief. “Tani, you’re next. Read the next sentence in your book.”

“The red house was built on a wed… wedeness…”

“Wednesday,” You said. “That’s a hard word, I know. Can you tell me what the noun is in that sentence?”

“House?”

“Good! A noun is a person, a place, or a thing. I’m a noun, you’re a noun, the room we’re in is a noun.”

“Is Nenish a noun?” Jinsa asked.

“Yes.”

“Ha ha, you’re a noun!” Jinsa said, pointing at Nenish.

“So are you!” Nenish interjected.

“Hey, hey! Settle down, please!” You called over them, sitting on the edge of your desk. “Fuma, you next.”

Fuma read from his book, and then Amaia. Next, you went down the line of the four-year-olds, having them read a sentence and find colors, shapes, numbers, or sounds in the sentences. The three-year-olds were next, and they simply read small sentences. You then had the one-year-olds spell and say three-letter words.

Their quick development was normal for nagas, as they tended to age quickly until they hit puberty, when their aging progress slowed to accommodate for yearly hibernation, but it was also startling in conjunction with the developmental levels of similar creatures. You had never studied the advancements of a species’ young so closely before, and you had to admit, it was fascinating. You could see why Dr. Halvorg found it so interesting.

You set the children writing tasks appropriate to their learning level and took a moment to talk to Dr. Halvorg, who was scribbling quickly in a notebook.

“They have computers now that you can write on, you know,” You told him, amused.

He looked up over his glasses at you and quirked an eyebrow. “I am aware of that, thank you. I’m not quite so old-fashioned as I seem, regardless of what Amai might tell you.” He looked back down and continued scribbling. “I’m a chronic note-taker. A bad habit I can’t seem to break, though with my profession, it’s often a strength rather than a weakness.”

“Hmm,” You hummed. “And what do your notes say about my teaching?”

“Adequate,” He replied, still scribbling. “Don’t misunderstand, that’s not a criticism. I hold everyone to an extremely high standard. If you hadn’t met expectations, I would have dismissed you.”

“So I meet your expectations?” You asked sardonically.

“At the moment,” He said, snapping his book closed and standing up. “I still want to observe your other classes before I’m completely satisfied.”

“Hmm,” You said again.

True to his word, Halvorg attended every class that week, observing you interacting with the children. Other than a question or two about your future curriculum, he stayed quiet. At the end of the week, he asked that you submit a weekly progress report until you either found a replacement or were dismissed.

It seemed excessive to you, and you were beginning to wonder if he still saw the children as an experiment. He seemed to care about them, but how much of that was genuine and how much of it was his own self-interest? You were starting to feel leery of and disconcerted by him.

Perhaps he picked up on this, because he seemed to go out of his way to avoid you. He had you direct all of your questions and reports to his assistant and rarely picked up his phone. Any conversations were brief and succinct. He did send you notes on your curriculum, making suggestions for each child. If you weren’t already suspicious of his motives, you might almost have though it sweet.

“I think Halvorg is avoiding me,” You told Amai when the two of you went to lunch together. Now that the two of you could hang out after all the years, you made it a point to set time aside for each other and had lunch at least once a week.

“What makes you say that?” Amai asked, drizzling dressing over her starter salad.

“Ever since he watched me teach classes, he’s barely spoken to me. He seemed excited to exchange research notes when I first arrived, but now he seems to have no interest in speaking to me since he finished observing class.”

“He could just be busy,” Amai suggested. “The four year old’s birthdays are coming up. He always does something special for the kids on their birthdays.”

“Are you concerned that he only sees your children as test subjects?” You asked her. “He seems obsessed with them.”

Amai laughed. “I thought that way in the early days, but he genuinely loves kids. If anything ever happened to me or Yenuno, I’m confident Halvorg would take care of them.” She took a sip of her mineral water. “Are you coming to the kids party? You’re invited, obviously.”

“Will there be clowns? I hate clowns.”

She snorted. “Nothing so gauche. I think Halvorg set up a treasure hunt. The kids always love whatever he plans. Honestly, I know I complain about him, but he does make it easy for me sometimes. I haven’t had to plan any major events since the kids hatched.”

“Hmm… I don’t know. It’s strange to me how involved he is.”

Amai sat back in her seat and eyed you shrewdly. “Did he ever tell you about his son?”

You looked up in surprise. “Son? I thought you said he had no children.”

“He doesn’t… technically.” Amai set her fork down. “You didn’t hear this from me so don’t repeat it, but he had a wife nearly a hundred years ago who cheated on him. He raised a boy, thinking he was his son, but the child was actually fathered by the other man. His wife left him and took the boy with her and he never saw him again. I don’t think he ever got over that.”

“Oh, god,” You replied, horrified. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“He’s spend the last several decades saving dying races from the brink of extinction. In a way, he thinks of those children he helped bring into the world as his children, too. And every time he has to let them go, it’s like losing his son all over again. I think the fact that he gets to help raise our babies is something of a gift for him. Trust me, it’s not something he takes for granted.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that,” You said in dismay.

“Halvorg is stuffy, strict, and a stickler for protocols, so he can be difficult to read, but I assure you, he loves my children as if they were his own. It may have started as research, but he has a family now and I think that’s what he wanted all along. Try not to judge him to harshly.”

You conceded with a nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The following Saturday, you attended the kids birthday party as requested. The kids were excited and zooming around the receiving area, shrieking and laughing, all of them wearing party hats and nothing else. Amaia was piggy-backing on Dr. Halvorg, her tail wrapped around his waist for stability and her arms hugged around his neck. Dr. Halvorg walked around completely normally, as if this was a typical action and he was used to it. He watched the children playing with a wide, fond grin on his face.

You walked over to Amai and Yenuno, who were watching from the refreshments table with Yenu, feeding her crackers.

“Nothing like a little bit of chaos in the morning,” You said.

They laughed.

“You’ve never seen them after a group kill,” Yenuno said. “They’re uncontrollable after they’ve taken down an elk together. It’s pretty incredible to watch for me, personally. Nagas in the wild typically don’t work together and they especially don’t hunt together, not even siblings.”

“They are very close and friendly, for nagas,” You remarked. “Markedly different to most snake-related species I’ve met.”

“It’s Amai’s blood and influence that’s doing it, I’m sure,” Yenuno said, kissing his wife’s cheek. “She’s the most friendly and cheerful person I’ve ever met.”

“To be fair, sweetie, you haven’t met all that many people,” Amai said, laughing.

“That is fair,” Yenuno conceded. “My point stands, though.”

“Alright children, gather ‘round!” Halvorg called, and they flocked to him, swirling around him like a whirlpool. “Now, you guys are going to split up into teams to help Nenish, Tahara, and Sadji find their gifts. Nenish will have Tani, Jinsa, and Keenai on his team. Tahara will have Amaia, Osan, Ishni, and Dashu on his team. And Khuzho, Chidil, Fuma, and Itheti will be on Sadji’s team.” He handed a small leaflet to each team. “Follow the clues to find the treasures! Go!”

The kids scattered, giggling madly.

“Come get something to drink and rest for a minute, Halvorg!” Yenuno called. “I think you’ve earned it.”

Halvorg grinned boyishly, an expression that brightened his face and made him look… well… rather handsome. He jogged over to the table and had a ginger ale. Elves have hypermobile ears, and his ears were high and wiggling slightly, a normal indication in elvish peoples of happiness and excitement.

“I think they’ll really enjoy their gifts this year,” Halvorg said, taking sips of his soda. “And the treasure hunt is half the fun. It’s challenging, but not too difficult. If they work together, it should be no trouble at all.”

“You didn’t get them history books like last year, did you?” Amai asked with her eyes narrowed. “You might as well have burned the money you spent on those for all the use they got out of them.”

“No, I learned my lesson,” He said defensively. “I bought toys.”

“Educational toys?” Amaia asked shrewdly.

He stopped mid-sip and looked at Amaia with an eyebrow raised. “…maybe,” He said into his cup.

Amaia rolled her eyes. “At least Yenuno and I ordered some stuff the kids will like.”

“You don’t know that they won’t like them,” I said. “I loved educational toys.”

“Yeah, but you’re a nerd,” Amaia said, poking you playfully.

“So what? Your kids could be nerds, too. I’m pretty sure Osan is going to be a Star Wars fan. He’s been talking my ear off about the Mandalorian.”

“It’s so strange,” Amaia said, ignoring your response and looking off in the distance. “I thought that because the kids were hatched in clutches, they would be like twins or triples or the like and have similar interests and personalities, but they’re all so different. Different likes, different traits, different styles. It’s amazing.”

“It amazes me, too,” Yenuno said, staring into his drink with a wistful expression. “My siblings and I separated when we were young, so I don’t know what they were like or if we had similar interests. Honestly, until recently, I never gave them a thought. Watching my children work together… it makes me wonder what my own siblings were like, and if they’d still be alive today if we had helped each other.”

There was a contemplative silence for a few minutes, broken by excited voices reentering the receiving area.

“We found it!” Tahara said, holding up a wrapped gift. The other four were carrying smaller treat bags that had their names written on them. “Uncle Maël, look!”

“Excellent! Well done!” Halvorg said, bending to give Tahara a hug. “Now, let’s wait until your brothers return with their gifts before we open them, okay? How about you five play tag until then?”

“Okay!” Tahara said.

“I’ll play with you,” Yenuno said. “I’m starting to get fat, preparing for the incubation period.” He patted Amai’s belly, which carried his three eggs, likely to be the last clutch they’d have together.

“How soon?” You asked Amai as Yenuno took off to chase with his children.

“Any day,” Amai said with a weary sigh. “And I’m ready for it. These little guys are heavy.”

“Boys or girls?”

“We won’t know until they hatch. It’s too hard to get a clear picture with the ultrasound, and besides, even if it could, both the male and female genitalia are internal, so it’s nearly impossible to tell.” She took a sip of ginger ale. “We’re really hoping for at least one girl. Don’t get me wrong, we love the boys more than anything, but we’d like Amaia and Yenu to have some sisters.”

“I’d like to be present for the laying, if that’s okay,” You said.

“For your research?” She asked.

Your head rocked back. “No, because you’re my friend and I want to be there for you.”

Amai smiled fondly. “Oh. Of course, thank you.”

Dr. Halvorg had not added anything to the conversation with you and Amai, and instead went to the table and made a plate of snacks. You gave Amai a look and a cocked eyebrow, and she nodded understanding, slipping away from her spot to watch her husband and children play.

“Dr. Halvorg?”

He flinched and looked up, glancing around furtively and noticing that the two of you were alone. “Yes?”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again before responding, “I’m doing no such thing.”

“I’ve requested at least three meetings with you this past month, and you’re always too busy,” You said dryly.

“Well, I am,” He said, turning. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Are you avoiding me because I asked you out?” You asked bluntly.

He missed a step in his stride and stopped.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I should have realized from your professional demeanor that you wouldn’t be open to interoffice dating. I apologize.”

Halvorg sighed and turned to face you. “It’s not that. Not exactly, I mean.” He set his plate on the table and looked you full in the face for the first time in weeks. “I haven’t given a thought to dating in…” He rubbed his forehead. “Gods… decades. The question took me off guard, of course, and I actually had to sit down and give it some thought. I’ve been wrapped up in my work, of course, but I think I was just distracting myself.”

“From what?”

He sat on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. “It’s hard to talk about. I don’t even really talk about it with Yenuno, and I would consider him my closest friend.” He sighed heavily and avoided your eye. “I’ve ignored my personal life in favor of spending my career and fortune in this century helping races achieve something I want for myself.”

“Children?” You guessed.

He nodded a little morosely. “Not just that, but that is a significant part of it. I’ve been following the reproduction rates of Celtic fae since the fae were originally integrated and it’s decreasing year by year. I live in constant fear that my own race will be extinct in my lifetime.” He quirked his head at you. “Your race still seems to be fairly prolific, is that correct?”

“Oh yeah, I have a bunch of brothers and a truckload of cousins. No problems there.”

He sighed. “I don’t know what the problem with my race is. I’ve studied genetic traits, magical impediments, marriage and divorce rates, and ratio of coupling to conceptions.The numbers are terrible and I don’t know why. That’s what drives me crazy. I hate not having an answer.”

“Have there been miscarriages?”

“No, that’s the crazy thing, the rate of conception is extraordinarily low. I think there have only been three live births of Celtic fae blood in the last year.”

“Oh, jeez,” You said, sitting against the table next to him. “I didn’t realize the problem was that severe. Have you considered whether it might be a physical problem?”

“How do you mean?”

“Have you ever done a sperm count? Or had an MRI of the area to see if there’s a blockage? That kind of thing can be genetic and men tend to be shy about stuff like that.”

He tilted his head and frowned. “No, I haven’t. It actually hadn’t occurred to me. Honestly, I’ve been so focused on my work to distract myself, it may have worked too well and I ignored such things.” He looked at you and smiled. “You’ve given me something to think about.”

You smiled back. “Good. I wonder if the females of the race have a similar issue. It may have been something bred into the people over time, over centuries.”

“That’s possible,” He said. “There’s certainly a precedent; some creatures have been bred to extinction. Remember the pug?”

“That tiny dog breed with the squashed face?” You said. “Yeah, they died out a while ago, didn’t they?”

He nodded. “That was human interference, though. Yenuno’s people were dying out due to antisocialism; too reclusive to even propagate their own species. Yenuno was the only one of his kind to take up this project, and even he was reluctant.”

“He seems happy now,” You remarked.

“Yeah,” Halvorg said softly, watching Yenuno laughing and chasing his kids with a sad kind of jealousy. “He does.”

You watched his face, the deep, deep sadness creasing his face and making him look older than he was.

“Follow up, Halvorg, see a specialist. This may have a fix that didn’t exist the last time you tried.”

He nodded, smiling at you, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I will.”

As you stood up, you bumped his shoulder lightly. “Thank you for talking to me. I appreciate that you trusted me enough to discuss such a sensitive subject. I get the feeling that you don’t share yourself with many people.”

He laughed. “No, not really.” He looked up with a smile that seemed more sincere. “Thank you for listening.”

Amai went into labor three days later. She was taken to the laying room, where both Yenuno and Dr. Halvorg were present in addition to the interspecies OBGYN. You were suited up in scrubs and the paper gowns that surgeons wear, as was everyone else in the room besides Amai, who was completely naked, and Yenuno, who never wore clothing. There were natal heart monitors on her belly and an EKG hooked up to her chest.

Amai was sitting on a specially designed chair that would allow her to pass the eggs through her birth canal and into the waiting arms of the doctor. She was already sweating and panting by the time you arrived. The OBGYN and Dr. Halvorg were having a quiet conversation. You went to the other side of Amai and took her hand, trying not to wince when she nearly crushed your fingers.

“Is she okay?” You asked in alarm.

“She’s not fully dilated yet,” Halvorg said, pulling his braid into a surgical cap. “The eggs are getting impatient, it seems.”

“Yeah, well, so am I, so they can settle the fuck down!” Amai shrieked at him.

He bore the abuse with no reaction other than a wry smile. Yenuno wisely said nothing and simply wiped Amai’s forehead with a cloth.

“It won’t be long,” the OBGYN said. “She’s almost there.”

“Just saw me open and get them out,” Amai moaned. “It would hurt less.”

Yenuno tried to kiss her cheek, but she swatted him away weakly.

“No,” She said peevishly. “No touching ever again.”

“You said that last time,” He said, smiling fondly.

“Yeah, but I mean it this time,” She said sulkily.

“Of course you do, darling.” He patted her head. She scrunched her face up at him in annoyance. She was always adorable when she was miffed.

“I’ll make you into shoes,” She said sourly. “And a matching purse.”

It took a while for Amai to dilate fully, and by then she was very tired. Yenuno was looking worried; she’d laid several eggs over the years and never struggled this much before. Perhaps this being their last clutch was a good idea.

“Okay, I think we can start pushing now,” The doctor said, getting ready to catch the eggs. “Amai, when you feel the next contract, hold your breath, bear down, and push.”

“Okay,” She breathed. “One’s coming.”

We all braced for the push. Amai took several quick deep breaths and held it, her face pulled tight in pain and effort, doubling over in the chair as she did. You and Yenuno held her hands and patted her back and murmured encouragement. Halvorg was waiting with a soft cloth to take the eggs for cleaning, after which they would be laid in a specialized incubating carrier to be taken to Yenuno’s cottage.

The first egg came slowly and with much screaming. The doctor caught it and handed it off to Halvorg. The shell of the egg was soft and needed extremely delicate care, but Halvorg was well practiced by now and got the egg washed and into the carrier under ninety seconds and returned for the next.

The second egg came more quickly, but Amai screamed the whole time. By the time the third and final egg was laid, her voice was raw and she was too exhausted to scream.

But it was over. She fell back into the recline of the chair as if boneless and breathed in shallowly, her eyes barely open.

“You were amazing, darling,” Yenuno said gently, kissing Amai’s face. “Rest. I’m taking the eggs to the cottage. The children will visit you when you’ve slept.”

She turned her head slowly to look at him and touched her fingertips to his face, tracing down his cheek, chin, neck and chest before letting her hand fall back to her side, and her eyes closed. Nurses came to whisk her away to a recovery room, the OBGYN following behind. Yenuno and Halvorg left to take the eggs to the cottage for the incubation, and you were left alone in the laying room.

As you were shedding the paper gown and surgical cap, you noticed a small book lying on the ground. It looked to be one of Halvorg’s research journals, though it was smaller than his usual ones. He must have dropped it out of his back pocket when he was disrobing. You picked it up and took it with you with the intent on returning it to him in the morning.

And of course, you’d completely forgotten by the time you woke up.

Amai recovered enough in a few days to be up and walking around. She and the children took turns keeping Yenuno company, as he grew morose if he was left alone too long. You had declared half days until the new babies hatched so that they could have more time with their dad.

One afternoon, after the children had left class for the day, Dr. Halvorg came in and sat on the edge of your desk.

“Hello,” You said pleasantly, closing the folder with their latest work for grading. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I wanted to let you know I took you up on your advice,” He said, looking a little bashful. “I went and saw a specialist. They’re going to be doing some tests soon. Sperm count, blood tests, an MRI. Any test that can be done will be done.”

“Good!” You said, swinging your chair around. “I’m glad. Maybe you’ll finally get an answer.”

He sighed, looking pensive and anxious. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I still wanted to thank you for pushing me to do it.”

“I didn’t push you to do it, Maël,” You said. His eyes narrowed at your use of his first name, but he didn’t say anything. “I just brought the subject up. It was your decision to do it.”

“Well, thank you all the same,” He replied. “I admit, I’m nervous about it. I could either get wonderful news or have my worst fears confirmed. I don’t know how I’ll react to either option.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” You asked him.

He looked at you in surprise. “You… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t,” You replied. “But this is the kind of thing you need friends for. And since Yenuno is tied up with the eggs, I could be a good substitute. You don’t even have to think of me as a friend, if you don’t want to, just an emotional support associate.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I think of you as a friend.”

“Well, thank you. I was hoping we’d get there eventually. So? What do you think? Want some support for this?”

“Not for the tests, I can do those by myself perfectly well,” He said, adjusting his tie nervously. “But… for the results… perhaps… a friend would be nice.”

“I’ll be there for you, then,” You said, standing and patting his arm. “Does Yenuno know about this? Have you talked to him about it?”

“No,” He replied. “I didn’t want to tell him while he’s dealing with his own new babies. Besides, if the news is not good, I don’t want people feeling sorry for me. If the news comes back positive… I don’t know… I think this is one thing I’d rather keep to myself.”

“Except for me, you mean,” You said.

He nodded concedingly. “Besides you.”

“Let me know when the results come back and I’ll go with you. We’ll make a day of it, go to a spa, get a bikini wax together, eat some overpriced salads, buy something ridiculous we want but don’t need. It’ll be a blast.”

He actually laughed a little. “Sounds like a plan.”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[dickspeightjrs]

Confessions of a Roommate in Love (college au / 3.1k words / roommates)

ao3 link

During college you’ll do anything to earn a bit of extra cash between classes. 

Ash does computer shit for people (Dean has learned not to ask about how legal it all his work is). Jo works in her mom, Ellen’s, bar. Benny hustles pool in said bar (while avoiding Ellen’s wrath).

But Dean and Castiel do something a little different. 

They enter trials and experiments posted around their university’s psychology and science departments. The psychology department, especially, knows them pretty well by now. It’s got to the point where they’ll just go straight to Dean and Castiel and ask if they’re interested. 

So that has what led Dean to racing into their apartment one Tuesday afternoon in their final year with a look of sheer childish glee on his face. 

Castiel is laying back on the sofa working on something but looks up from his laptop at the slam of the door and squints at Dean’s expression. He can never quite trust that Dean’s gleeful looks won’t end in tears eventually. But whatever Dean usually suggests Castiel will go along with because that’s what best friends do. 

“They’re doing another research project in the Psych department. Charlie emailed me the details.” Dean explains. 

Castiel’s interest is clearly piqued and he closes his laptop, moving to sit properly on the sofa to give Dean room to sit down next to him. 

“She said there’s a few stages to it. We’ve got to enter some video submission thing first to see if we’re the right fit and then they’ll invite us in for the real thing. Pretty much like the rest of them.” Dean shrugs, taking the offered seat next to Castiel. 

He pulls up the email on his phone and scrolls straight to the specific information for potential participants. They’ve done so many of these things that he tends to scroll right past most of the generic information. 

Castiel’s interested gaze stays on him. 

“Ah, here it is.” Dean quickly scans the text before reading it out. “So it’s a study about roommates and looks like we have to just answer a few questions about each other. Easy.” Dean grins. 

“What kind of questions do we have to answer?” Castiel asks. 

“Just basic ones about living together - who’s the messiest,” Dean snorts, “that’s you.” 

Castiel makes an offended noise and plucks Dean’s phone out of his hand. “I think you’ll find that’s you actually. I don’t think your socks have ever made it to the laundry basket.” 

Dean watches as Castiel scrolls through the rest of the questions. He lets out the occasional chuckle at some of the questions - even the tiniest of laughs lights up his face. 

Eventually, Castiel hands Dean back his phone. “They’re definitely easy questions. I’ll just pack my study stuff away and we can get started on the video. It’ll be better to submit it as soon as possible.” Castiel rises to his feet and collects his laptop in his arms. He’s about to walk down the hall to his bedroom when he turns back to face Dean. “I’m glad this one is about roommates. Given the amount of times we’ve had to pretend to be a couple for these things,” he chuckles and goes to his room, not waiting for a response from Dean.

Dean’s glad Castiel has left and can’t see his face fall from a fake smile. 

Castiel is right. There have been a few times when they’ve participated in research studies and posed as a couple. But what Castiel doesn’t know is that there was no faking on Dean’s part. 

Truthfully, Dean is hopelessly and completely in love with Castiel. 

It’s so unbelievably cliche that Dean can’t quite believe it’s actually true. But it is. 

Ever since they first met, there has been something about Castiel that seems to complete Dean in ways that he never knew he needed. 

Despite successfully pretending to be a couple, Dean has never told Castiel how he feels. Risking their friendship is too much. The chance that he could ruin everything between them is too big. 

So he stays quiet. Living in the hope that it will blow over one day and he’ll find someone who will love him back the way he wants to be loved. 

“Dean, are you listening?” 

Dean blinks back to reality and sees Castiel standing in front of him. “What?” 

“I asked if you wanted to use your phone or mine?” Castiel looks at him quizzically. “Unless you’re not feeling up to it right now? We can do it later.” 

God bless Castiel for being concerned for Dean all the time. 

“Nah, man.” Dean clears his throat and mentally shakes himself. “I’ll have the questions on my phone, so I guess we could use your phone to film it.” 

Castiel nods, though he still looks a little skeptical that Dean is actually okay. “I’ll go and get my tripod for my phone.” 

Dean smiles and waits for Castiel to be gone from the room before he takes a deep breath and casts any thoughts of his true feelings away. It’s not Castiel’s fault Dean feels this way, and Dean isn’t going to take it out on the guy by acting weird. 

Castiel returns and effortlessly sets up the camera to record. 

Having done submission videos like this before, Dean doesn’t feel self conscious about the feeling of having a camera on him anymore. 

Instead, he looks over the email again. 

Castiel drops himself down on the couch next to Dean and naturally lets their knees touch. Dean keeps his eyes focused on the phone in his hand. 

“So it says we have to answer these questions as quick as we can. Don’t think too much about the answers.” Dean explains. 

Castiel nods in understanding. 

“Right, let’s get started.” Dean says. “First question: Who makes the most noise?” 

“Dean.” 

“Yeah it is me.” Dean has to admit. “It’s the music. Gotta start the day with listening to some classic rock.” 

Castiel snorts. “Yes but you don’t only start the day with classic rock. You end with it too. And you play it when you study. And shower. And when you’re sad.” 

Dean blushes a little at the thought of Castiel knowing when Dean is sad and when he listens to music to cope with it. 

He clears his throat. “Okay, next question.”

*  *  * 

It’s another couple of days before an email pings itself into Dean’s inbox telling him that he and Castiel are through to the next stage of the study. 

Dean hasn’t thought about his feelings for Castiel since they filmed the video and he’s very happy to keep it that way. 

He’s sat in the living room watching the new episode of Dr Sexy when Castiel comes through the door after his last class of the day. He looks tired and completely adorable. 

“Hey, man. Got an email today, we’re through to the next stage. You free tomorrow afternoon?” 

Castiel doesn’t reply straight away. Instead he trudges over to the couch and flops down next to Dean. The dude must really be as tired as he looks because he sighs and rests his weary head on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean resists the urge to rest his head on Castiel’s in return. “You okay there, Cas?” He asks, looking down at Castiel’s head of dark hair. 

“I’ve had a long day. That last final nearly killed me. I swear to god.” Castiel groans. 

As much as Dean loves Castiel, the dude can be a real drama queen when he wants to be. 

“Come on, man, you’ve aced all your finals and you know it. You’re the smartest guy I know.” 

Castiel abruptly lifts his head from Dean’s shoulder and looks his friend in the eyes. “Thank you, Dean,” he says, sincerity shining in his eyes. His eyes seem to flicker down to Dean’s momentarily but Dean is sure it must just have been the lights or something. 

Dean swallows and coughs before he does something stupid. “Anyway, you free tomorrow then?” 

Castiel clears his throat too and shifts away from Dean’s personal space a little. “Yes, I am free all day. I was just planning to sleep now that finals are over. But it’ll be nice to see what happens with Charlie’s research project.” 

Dean nods. “Awesome, I’ll text Charlie and tell her we’re free.” 

Text sent, Dean returns his attention to Dr Sexy, who is making out with yet another intern on screen. What Dean wouldn’t give to be one of those interns. 

He almost forgets that Castiel hasn’t actually left the living room until he feels a soft weight fall onto his shoulder again. He looks to see that Castiel has fallen asleep on the couch next to him. Now Castiel’s head has slipped down and rested itself against Dean’s arm. 

Any normal roommate would wake Castiel up and tell him to go to his room and get some sleep. But Dean just can’t bring himself to disturb Castiel’s peaceful slumber. Finals must have really knocked it out of him. 

And if Dean gets a little joy out of having Castiel this close to him, well that’s no one else’s business but his own. 

*  *  * 

“Okay I just need you guys to sign a few documents before we get started.” Charlie explains. “I know you’ve seen most of these before with the other studies but there’s a couple new ones in there so make sure you look at them carefully. Dean.” She raises an eyebrow at him. 

Dean looks up from where he’d been scanning the papers Charlie handed them when they walked into the classroom. His face is a picture of perfect innocence and offence of being accused of such things. 

“Don’t pull that face, Dean. Charlie is right, you can be rather lackadaisical with important documentation.” Castiel says, his eyes never leaving the papers he’s reading. 

Trust Castiel to know exactly how Dean would react without even looking at him. And lackadaisical? Who even says that? God, Castiel is such a fucking dork. 

Papers thoroughly read and signed, Charlie takes Dean and Castiel into a smaller room with two stools next to each other in the middle. A pretty simple set up compared to some of the things they’ve been part of. 

“Take a seat. It doesn’t matter which seat you take, just make sure you’re both facing me.” Charlie instructs. 

Both boys do as asked. 

“Okay, from now on neither of you can talk to the other. You can only talk to me. Understand?” 

Dean and Castiel give identical nods. 

“Good. This is the first stage. There is another one after and we will give you more information about that once this one is finished.” Charlie continues. “Much like your video submission, for this round you will be answering questions based on living together.” 

Dean tries to concentrate on what Charlie is saying but the stools really are close together and Castiel’s knee is knocking against his own. The small spot of warmth from the other man both relaxes and makes Dean anxious at the same time. But Dean daren’t move his leg away. Castiel would wonder why he’d moved away and probably get a little pouty frown on his face. The same as he did the night before when Dean had finally got up from the couch because he needed the bathroom. 

“And remember, the main rule of these questions is: what happens in this room stays in the room. Got it?”

Dean swallows and nods. He’d missed a bit of what Charlie had said but he’d probably figure it out. 

“Awesome. Let’s begin.” Charlie smiles. “First question: what do you like most about living together?” 

Dean knows what he’d like to answer but he’ll never confess. Instead, he goes for a more playful answer. “I like that Castiel gets free donuts from his job at the coffee shop.” 

From the corner of his eye he can see Castiel roll his eyes. “I like that Dean has a brother that I can have much more intellectually stimulating conversations with,” Castiel replies with a smug face. 

Dean would argue but he’s not allowed to speak directly to Castiel. (And to be honest, his brother may only be eighteen but he is freakishly clever.)

Charlie smirks and shakes her head as she writes down their answers. 

“Next: What do you hate most about living together?” 

This time Castiel gets his answer in first. “I hate that Dean leaves dirty socks around the apartment.” 

Now Dean rolls his eyes. Castiel is always nagging Dean about his socks. They didn’t need to come all the way down here for Castiel to get that off his chest. 

“I hate that you always put the empty milk carton back in the fridge. It’s gross dude.” 

Castiel levels Dean with a look that says ‘you do that too and you know it’. 

Dean just shrugs. 

After another few questions, the first round is over and Charlie allows them to have a break. Only they’re still not allowed to talk to each other so they go into the first room and sit at either ends. 

Dean is tempted to text Castiel from across the room but he knows Charlie would be hugely pissed if she found out he broke the rules. 

Soon enough, they’re called back into the question room. 

When they enter they’re met with the same two stools but this time there’s a solid white screen between them. 

As they take their seats again, Castiel disappears behind the partition and Dean suddenly realises why it’s probably there. It’s probably an attempt to be more honest with each other because they won’t see the other’s immediate reaction. 

“Okay,” Charlie begins again, “it’s the same rules as before. I’ll ask you some questions again. And remember: what happens in this room, stays in this room.” 

Dean takes a deep breath. He hates being reminded of that. As if Charlie knows he’s not telling the full truth. Which, of course, he isn’t. But they don’t know that. 

“First question: what has been the worst thing about living together?”

Dean internally rolls his eyes, how can he think of another bullshit jokey answer?

His thoughts are stopped by Castiel softly clearing his throat on the other side of the wall. Dean can do nothing but look at Charlie sitting opposite them. She seems to be sending Castiel a kind smile. 

“The worst thing,” Castiel begins, “was that you were hurting so much when your mom died and I couldn’t do anything to help take the pain away.” The end of the sentence comes out in almost a whisper. 

Dean is overwhelmed. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He doesn’t often talk about his mother’s death, not even with Castiel. That was one of the lowest moments of his life. But Castiel had been his rock. Cleaning up after him when he was in depressed moods, dragging him out of bars and shoving him in the shower to sober up. God, Dean would have flunked out of college by now if Castiel hadn’t saved him. 

“You did just by being there, man.” Dean whispers, tears coming to his eyes. He takes a small breath and sits in the silence for a few moments. “Dammit, you promise that whatever happens in here, stays in here?” He asks Charlie. 

“Well, from my point of view, yes. I will not discuss the details of your answers outside the parameters of the study, and your names will be anonymised when your data is used in the final report. However, it’s up to you two if it carries on with you outside these four walls. 

Dean takes a shaky breath, letting Charlie’s answer wash over him for a moment. 

“I would never judge you or be angry at you for anything, Dean.” Castiel’s kind voice rumbles through the partition. 

And if that ain’t Castiel summed up perfectly, Dean thinks. Castiel is the most thoughtful and selfless person Dean has ever met. And Dean loves him. 

Dean feels like he might just burst if he doesn’t finally put his feelings into physical words. 

Castiel would forgive Dean of anything. It’s that thought that pushes Dean to take a final, calming deep breath and jump. 

“Fuck it, you wanna know the worst thing about living with Cas?” Dean asks, rhetorically. “It’s that every day I look at him and see everything I could ever want but can never have.” Dean finally confesses. And once the floodgates are open, he finds that he just can’t stop. “It terrifies me that one day he’ll leave for someone better.” 

Dean thinks he can hear a soft noise coming from Castiel’s side but he’s not done. 

“And the thing I really hate the most having Cas as a roommate? It’s that my fucking heart breaks a little more every time he walks through the door because I know one day it’ll be the last.”

Dean can’t bring himself to look at Charlie so he looks down at his hands, nervously playing with them in his lap. 

No sound comes from Castiel’s side and Dean closes his eyes in defeat and sheer regret. He’s ruined everything for sure. He should have known Castiel wouldn’t feel the same. He should have just kept it to himself. 

As if to prove Dean right, he hears footsteps in the quiet room. Footsteps that he’d recognise anywhere. 

Great, Castiel has left which means Charlie’s research is probably ruined too. 

Fuck, shit. Can’t Dean get anything fucking right?

Only, when he listens more carefully, he notices the footsteps aren’t retreating. In fact, they sound like they’re coming closer and closer to Dean. 

Dean finally opens his eyes and lifts his head to see Castiel standing in front of him. The overhead light is positioned perfectly behind his head and creates a ring of pure light around him. 

Castiel silently lifts a hand to Dean’s chin, cupping it ever so slightly. Dean can’t help but fall for Castiel all over again, just looking into his eyes. 

“I know Charlie didn’t ask it yet but would you like to know what I love most about living with you, Dean?”

Dean nods, eyes never leaving Castiel’s. 

“It’s that I fall in love with you more and more every day, and I’m completely helpless to stop it.” 

Dean can’t believe what he’s hearing and assumes this must all be a dream. 

Dream or not, he’s not taking any chances and letting Castiel slip away. 

Dean pushes himself up from his seat to meet Castiel’s lips and bring him into a kiss. 

This definitely isn’t a dream, Dean thinks, he’s never felt something so intense in his life. 

They finally part once Charlie awkwardly clears her throat, reminding them that she’s still there. 

They still don’t turn their attention to her though. Instead, Castiel rests his head against Dean’s and whispers between them “This definitely isn’t staying in this room.” 

-

A/N: I quite liked writing this, I hope you enjoyed reading it! 

Please REBLOG if you liked it. 

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[187days]

Day Thirty-Three

I think it’s pretty obvious that I really love being a teacher- and, more specifically, I love being a teacher at the high school I work at- but these pandemic years have not been easy. Today, though, I was mid-teach when it struck me that I was really having fun. I wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. I was answering questions about how religion influences other aspects of culture in the Middle East (because students had read an article on that last class). The questions they were asking were good, though, and even students who rarely put their hands up were chiming in, and I just thought, “Yup, this is fun.”

Following our discussion, we took a walk- mask break- and enjoyed the unseasonably warm autumn weather, and the colorful trees around campus. Then we returned to class so I could show them how to do their current events write-ups in essay format (they did the last one on slides). I may have mentioned this before, but this year’s ninth graders do really well if they’re shown examples of finished work. That might seem like an obvious thing for me to say, but I’ve definitely taught students in the past who did not find that helpful because they either couldn’t identify the good qualities in the example, or couldn’t figure out how to mimic them in their own writing. My current students have clearly been taught those skills, though, so we read and discussed a write-up done by one of the students I had last spring, and then I quickly did one myself to model my process from note-taking to writing in full paragraphs. The students started working on their own immediately after I was done, and they really took off. I was so pleased. They’ll continue writing on Monday, and submit finished write-ups Tuesday. I’m looking forward to reading them!

What else? GOV was great today, too. They actually had current events write-ups due today, and we ended up spending most of the class discussing the news stories they’d written about. We also discussed the laws they’d researched briefly last class and why they’re considered important. The most recent of those was the Patriot Act, which, of course, was enacted in 2001, so then I asked them to identify important laws that had been enacted during their lifetimes (answers: The Affordable Care Act, the CARES Act and the American Rescue Plan, ESSA; there were also bills that have yet to pass- the Equality Act, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act- that were mentioned). Lastly, I pulled up some news articles- one about the child tax credit, one about the recent debt ceiling deal- to link current events to our study of the legislative branch. 

Real world relevance for the win!

[op-sheepy]

6. dark law, 19. Davy Back, 36. the whimsical captain trafalgar law, 55. marine pet AU!

 Oh, good eye. Those are some of my favorites.. Here is another long one under the cut. Also sorry for the late response. :D

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6. Dark Law

Essentially my take (one of them at least) on what would have happened had Corazon not taken Law from the Donquixote pirates but left anyway when he thought Law had ratted him out.

Some details regarding this:

Rocinante returns to the marines and was able to submit the intelligence he'd gathered. This doesn't do much except inconvenience Doflamingo, as already acknowledged during Law and Doffy's fight.

Vergo gets discovered so he just goes back to the family.

Law does not eat the Ope Ope no mi since Doflamingo never intended for him to. At least, initially.

Because, I'm assuming, not everyone can perform the "Perennial Youth Operation," as it was stated they needed to be 'wise' or 'knowledgeable' and being a doctor does not really automatically equal that, Doflamingo had to kill the users he had chosen when none of them could do it so the fruit could go back to the circulation and he could feed it to the next potentially qualified person he could find.

Law's Amber Lead Syndrome got healed by one of these users though it was only because Law, himself, taught them how to (being familiar with the disease through his father's research as well being a good doctor)

Eventually, everyone realizes that Law is actually the most suited to wield the fruit (all the other smart doctors either having a fruit already or are simply inaccessible), certain that Law would be able to figure out how to do the ultimate technique. So, reluctantly, because he does care in his twisted conditional way, Doflamingo gives the Ope Ope no Mi to Law.

Law at this point had been raised as Doffy's right hand, all according to his plan. While he truly considers Law family and might genuinely regret making him give up his life, Doffy would still ask it from him because there is nothing more important than Doflamingo and his goals. A sentiment that almost everyone in his family considers true.

And Law... well...

Doflamingo rested both hands on Law's shoulders. His tinted glasses peering down, voice heavy with regret, "I wish there was another way."

Law's face remained impassive only broken by a small wistful twitch of his lips. It almost looked like a smile. He grasped Doflamingo's arm and directed him towards the operating table.

"You have taught me many lessons one of which was the futility of wishing for better circumstances." Law seated him and prepared his equipment.

"You taught me to take advantage of any situation by using whatever it is at my disposal." Carefully, he opened a package of sterile gloves. It wasn't really needed but the ritual of opening the pack and putting the gloves on one hand at a time always helped settle his nerves.

"I had expected you to do the same so I'd been prepared for this even before you gave me the fruit." Law lifted his eyes as he slid the first glove in place. "Don't feel too bad. I really am grateful for everything you've done for me. This is just me returning the favor."

He slid the other glove and stretched it over his hand. Softly, almost a whisper, without taking his eyes off his would-be patient, "I wish there was another way too." The snap that followed the release of the glove was too loud in the small operating room.

---------------------------------o

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19. Davy Back

Early Heart Pirates stuff. And another workaround for writing with at least one of the nameless Heart Pirates.

A Davy Back Fight is initiated for an abused crew member of the opposing crew because Penguin couldn't help himself. The rules are a work in progress, hence this fic's state in limbo.

I really like writing about how these guys were when starting out. They probably looked too adorable, to be honest, so in the harsh North Blue they must have had a hard time getting treated seriously. Not that that would have bothered them (I honestly think they exploited it a lot.)

The enemy captain stared intently at each Heart Pirate then at the list of members given to him. The man didn't bother controlling the upward curl of his mouth.

"No powers. No weapons. Sumo wrestling with your navigator and hand-to-hand combat with your doctor."

Shachi choked and struggled a little bit to get his breathing back to normal. He waved away Penguin's hands patting his back. The pats were a little too harsh, clearly an admonishment if the accompanying glare was anything to go by.

Penguin almost felt sorry for whoever it was being matched against Law. Bepo, while just as incensed by the other crew, was way too conscious of controlling his strength to ever really hurt anyone too badly. The captain, on the other hand, could turn someone into a useless writhing lump of agony by systematically dislocating joints Penguin hadn't even known could be dislocated. Gruesome as severed body parts looked, the powers could at least make it painless.

---------------------------------o

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36. The Whimsical Captain Trafalgar Law

More Heart Pirates stuff though would feature some of the allied crews as well. This is actually a series/multi-chaptered (or would be).

A Heart Pirates adventure fic where they all go along with their captain's whims all while trying to figure him out. His crew is so used to it they barely even flinch anymore.

Not to say they understand him because who knows what goes inside their captain's head. In fact, they debate that sometimes (a lot of times) the crew being divided among those who think Law has got a plan and those who think he's winging it (often switching really).

"You can't possibly tell me there's some sort of plan behind this."

More than half of the crew looked a bit skeptical, the rest looked defensive.

Clione held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not complaining. I'll follow the captain wherever same as you. But you gotta admit that there isn't always a method to his madness. He really does do things on a whim."

"I disagree. The captain's just saying that but he knows what he's doing. Pretty sure there's a reason behind all his actions..." Protests started, so Penguin amended, "...that isn't just him being a bastard on purpose because he hates someone. Which is a pretty valid reason since we are pirates."

"How about that time we raided the flour factory?" Ikkaku asked.

Penguin's reply came immediately. "Discreet incendiary." A beat. "...also he hates bread."

Before they could celebrate, Shachi interrupted, "His dislike of bread counts as a reason and since it's incidental it doesn't count as a whim."

With narrowed eyes, Clione tried again. "The monastery? Dressing up as monks."

"Medicinal plant in the courtyard bred by this one priest."

"Marineford?"

"Allowed us to get intel and allies."

"And the emergency operations without anesthesia?"

"Possible drug interaction. Emporio Ivankov and their hormone powers."

So continued their back and forth. By the end of it, Penguin and Shachi looked way too smug. Truthfully, they both agreed Law was more impulsive than he let on, often unaware of it himself. But they knew the man they chose to follow always had a plan and purpose (though not necessarily present at the start, but semantics)

---------------------------------o

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55. Marine Pet AU

Haha... Another one of those difficult to explain ones. Starring the Marines (particularly the original three admirals and Sengoku), and the Shichibukai.

Uhm... So everything's the same except the Shichibukai aren't pirates. They're animals. That's it.

It starts with a wayward flamingo wearing eyewear harassing officers near one of their HQs. Also the Marines need to improve their public image. For some reason, the best they came up with is to get a mascot. Hitting two birds with one stone. (Except they can't really hit the bird. They tried)

So the Marines build a zoo or a habitat. Here are the only types of pirates the World Government can tolerate. Aren't they cute and fluffy?

The public eat it all up. It's popular so now they have to commit. And really, these animals become so important their safety and wellbeing become the higher-ups' problem.

Kizaru is having fun. Aokiji is resigned. Akainu tries (he doesn't quite know what but he'll do what's best for the Marines even if that's getting that damn flamingo away from the reptile enclosure for the tenth time that week on a Tuesday.)

Will feature other marines as well as all of the Shichibukai. All of them.

He checked the schedule and sighed deeply.

Boa, Doflamingo, Mihawk.

He had the most troublesome ones. Briefly, he contemplated just letting his subordinates handle them but quickly scrapped the idea.

He wouldn't say these animals were attached to him and the other admirals but they got more difficult to handle the lower the rank as though these creatures' egos get ruffled. It wasn't a matter of ability. It was perhaps more accurate to say that they had respect. A modicum of it.

It should be Boa's feeding time. Another sigh escaped him as he headed towards the grooming room, a room specifically made to groom Boa's food.

It took them a while to figure out the snake's preferred diet but they found it out when a stray kitten had snuck in and Boa swooped in to swallow it whole. From there they determined that she would only eat cute animals--any less adorable and she doesn't even look at it. So puppies and kittens. And maybe bunny rabbits. Which was bad from a PR perspective so they've taken to grooming rats. Put a nice lovely ribbon and brushed them so they're all fluffy.

He entered the grooming room and one of the officers assigned there took a quick look at him, glanced down the rat they were grooming, then burst to tears (they tended to get attached.) He pressed his hand to his head letting the ice cool down his budding headache. Why couldn't he have gotten Jinbe?

Thank you for playing. :)

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries

On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)

There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.

It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.

[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex

p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)

[c-swirlz]

Pure Imagination

Summary: Thomas has never really questioned the existence of humanoid fragments of his personality, but when strange dreams start worming their way into his sleeping hours, he decides it’s time to get some answers. Meanwhile, Logic, Creativity and Morality are dealing with a few of their own problems.

Relationship(s): None

Warning(s): Panic attack, swearing

[AO3 link]

This was written for the TSS Fanworks Collective’s April Reverse Mini Bang challenge. The rules of the challenge were simple: claim a piece of submitted art and write fic inspired by it. The art I chose was drawn by @amayakumiko, and it can be found here.

Everyone has an imagination. From the elderly to the newborns, everyone is capable of warping reality within their own head. Some imaginations are tame. Others are wild. Some people imagine life in another country and the adventures they could have. Others imagine life in a fantasy world where society’s rules don’t apply. Everyone’s imagination is different. That’s what makes it such a special thing.

There are a handful of people who are more imaginative than the rest of humanity. They’re a rare breed, and it is said only three are born across a ten-year period. Of course, such powerful imaginations can’t go to waste, so it has been decided that a gift shall be bestowed upon every individual who possesses it. The first to receive this gift shall be a boy named Thomas Sanders.

*****

In an ordinary house on an ordinary street, a shadow looms over the small crib five month old Thomas is sleeping in. A leather pouch is opened, revealing many different colours of shimmering glitter. The dark blue and indigo glitter is retrieved, and with unnatural precision, it is sprinkled onto Thomas.

The glitter glows brightly. Thomas is surrounded by an aura that glows both dark blue and indigo. The glitter dissolves, and the aura fades along with it.

Red glitter is retrieved from the pouch. It’s sprinkled onto Thomas, causing him to stir but not wake. The aura that momentarily surrounds him glows a bright imperial red.

More glitter is retrieved. This time, it’s light blue and cyan. Once again, Thomas’ aura adopts the colours as he’s showered by the magical substance. The aura glows dark blue, indigo, imperial red, light blue and cyan all at once before it fades again.

Thomas stirs again. His bottom lip trembles and he whimpers. Unlike before, he doesn’t relax. Several other colours of glitter are sprinkled onto him, and his face twitches as it falls onto the delicate skin of his cheeks and forehead. His restlessness grows as his aura appears once again. It glows a variety of different colours. 

Thomas’ lips part and a quiet, distressed noise escapes. His tiny eyes blink open, and they well up with unshed tears.

His aura fades. He sobs loudly. His parents wake up and scurry out of their shared bed frantically to check on him, and on the ground near his crib, they find an empty leather pouch.

They’ve never seen it before.

*****

Logic /ˈlɒdʒɪk/ NOUN Reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity.

Logan has no idea how he — or his fellow Sides, for that matter — came to be. He knows they haven’t always had physical forms. He knows they haven’t always been able to speak to Thomas face-to-face. He knows there’s no logical explanation, yet he’s always searching for one.

Fragments of an individual’s personality shouldn’t have an independent conscience. They shouldn’t have physical forms. They shouldn’t be able to do things no other human can.

Logan knows everything Thomas does. Or, more accurately, he knows everything Thomas has learned over the years, and he retains that knowledge even after Thomas has forgotten it. Science is something Thomas seems to remember the most about, but math… oh, math. The amount of mathematical formulas Thomas has forgotten frustrates Logan to no end.

Thomas and Logan share a mind. They share their knowledge, and that knowledge helps them grow. Thomas asks questions, and most of the time, Logan is the one who answers them. He’s an intellectual, but he doesn’t know everything.

He wishes he did.

*****

“Logic?”

Thomas’ tentative call tugs gently in Logan’s chest. When Logan rises up, he finds his Whole sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, his head in his hands.

“What can I do for you, Thomas?”

Thomas lowers his hands and sighs. He gestures to the sheet of paper on the desk and picks up the pencil sitting beside it. “Homework.”

Logan’s head tilts. “You… require assistance?”

Thomas nods.

“Have you not asked your teachers for help?”

Thomas averts his gaze, bites his lip and shakes his head. “I would, but I don’t want it to seem like I wasn’t paying attention to the lectures. Plus, I... feel like I ask them for help a little too often.”

Logan’s expression softens. He approaches Thomas, careful not to get too close. They still don’t know what will happen if they make physical contact with their Whole, and Logan doesn’t plan on being the one to find out.

“What are you having trouble with?”

Thomas moves to point out what question he’s stuck on, but stops. There’s silence for a beat, then a quiet clatter breaks it when Thomas puts the pencil down.

“Y’know what, nevermind. I have plenty of time to finish this, it’s fine.”

Logan’s brow furrows. Thomas stands and moves to his bed. Logan follows, but chooses to stand nearby as Thomas drapes himself across the blanket, effectively wrinkling it.

“Is something the matter, Thomas?”

Thomas sits up and his gaze snaps up to meet Logan’s eyes. “No,” he says, far too quickly.

“Are you sure?” Logan asks. He takes a seat beside Thomas, and he pushes down the odd urge to place a hand on his Whole’s shoulder. “You seem distressed. If something is bothering you, talking about it may help.”

Thomas sighs and lowers his head. His bangs flop down, partially hiding his face.

“I’ve been having… dreams. Weird ones.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “It’s not uncommon for someone to have strange dreams every now and again—“

“That’s the thing,” Thomas interrupts. He lifts his head and turns it to lock eyes with Logan. “Logic, I’ve been having these dreams for days now, and they won’t stop.”

Logan blinks. “Ah. That is… rather concerning. Can you remember any of your dreams?”

Thomas’ brow furrows in thought. “Well, I remember I almost drowned in glitter Monday night.” He laughs. “That was weird.”

Logan summons a notepad and jots something down. Thomas waits patiently for him to stop scribbling before he speaks again.

“Wednesday night was pretty freaky. I was in some really dark room, and I could hear whispering. I remember seeing weird flashes of colour, but I wasn’t able to get a proper look before they disappeared.”

Logan nods and jots another note down. “You didn’t experience any odd dreams on Tuesday?”

Thomas shakes his head, then pauses. “Wait, shouldn’t you know all this? You’re part of me.”

Logan tucks the pen in his grasp behind his ear. “Dreams are generally Creativity’s department. Unlike him, the rest of us are not automatically made aware of them.”

“Huh.”

The room falls into an awkward silence, save for the tapping of Thomas’ forefinger on the desk. Logan fixes his tie and cleans the lenses of his glasses, just to give him something to do.

“Why am I having these dreams, Logic?”

Logan blinks. “What?”

Thomas looks down at his bare feet, which are hovering just above the carpet. “I wanna know why I’m having these dreams. There has to be a reason, and I guess I just assumed you’d know.”

There’s a lump in Logan’s throat. He swallows, but it doesn’t dislodge.

“I…”

Thomas glances up at Logan. Logan puts on a brave face and looks his Whole in the eye.

“As I said before, dreams are not my department. It would be best to consult Creativity if your concern grows.”

The way Thomas’ expectant face falls makes Logan’s heart sink. He wishes he had an answer, he really does, but nothing is coming to mind. He doesn’t know what’s going on, nor why Thomas is having such strange dreams.

Knowledge is his entire existence. He has to know.

He sinks out. For the rest of the evening, he stays in his room, conducting research and jotting down notes.

He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep.

He has to know.

*****

Creativity /ˌkriːeɪˈtɪvɪti/ NOUN The use of imagination or original ideas to create something; inventiveness.

Roman is a dreamer. He’s a performer; an artist. He’s the one who’s always ready to slay any monsters lurking in the shadows. He’s the hero of the story, and any villains who dare to cross his path will be shown no mercy.

Thomas is an actor. Saying he’s a good one would be an understatement. Both he and Roman are well rehearsed in putting on a mask and performing for an audience, and they’ve gotten rather good at it over the years.

Thomas loves theatre. So does Roman.

Thomas loves Disney. So does Roman.

Thomas has dreams. So does Roman. Not the sort of dreams you have when you’re asleep, but rather aspirations, ambitions and ideals.

Roman shouldn’t have them. Dreams, he means. He’s a facet of a person’s personality. He isn’t an individual. Thomas’ dreams are the ones that matter; his are irrelevant.

It’s one of the many problems Roman has with his existence.

He doesn’t like talking about it.

*****

“Prince?”

Roman greets Thomas with an exaggerated regal bow as he rises up. “Good afternoon, Thomas! What can I do for you on this fine day?”

Thomas puts his phone aside and starts fiddling with his fingers. After a moment, he places his hands on either side of him, and his fingers curl around the soft material of the blanket underneath him.

“I talked to Logic yesterday.” Thomas pauses, but only for a beat. “I told him about the weird dreams I’ve been having.”

Roman sighs. “Yes, I heard about that. Your dreams these past few nights have been quite strange, and oddly enough, they all seem to be connected. Logic’s been trying to figure out what they mean, but I don’t think he’s had much luck so far.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Roman shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Picking out the symbolism of the dreams I oversee isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

Thomas looks away. “Oh.”

Roman smiles warmly. “Don’t fret, Thomas. We’ll figure this out together, okay? These questions won’t go unanswered.”

Thomas glances at Roman, and the corner of his lips curl upward.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Roman grins and starts to sink out.

“Hey, wait.”

Half-submerged in the floor, Roman stops. He rises back up and raises an eyebrow.

Thomas stands and starts fiddling with his fingers again. “I, uh… sorry about Thursday. I know you wanted me to go for the lead in the play.”

Roman waves a dismissive hand, ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest. “Don’t sweat it, Tommy Salami. It’s just a school play, no big deal. They’re practically the same as the ones you participated in back in high school, anyway.”

Thomas giggles. “Tommy Salami? That’s a new one.”

“I have plenty more; I’ve been brainstorming all week.”

Roman and Thomas laugh, and just for a moment, Roman’s tight chest loosens. As their laughter dies down, Roman feels the tightness return.

He ignores it.

*****

Morality [məˈralɪti] NOUN Principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behaviour.

Patton’s job is simple. He determines what’s right and wrong. He makes sure Thomas is honest and encourages him to put others before himself. When Thomas was younger, Patton would repeat the same mantra over and over again.

“Don’t kill, don’t steal. Be honest. Help others and put them first. Be a good person, kiddo.”

When Thomas was younger, his sense of morality was fairly streamlined. Now, slowly but surely, things are becoming more complicated.

Patton hates that. He shouldn’t, but he does.

The moral dilemmas Thomas faces on a daily basis are growing more complex. Though Patton will never admit it, he’s struggling to keep up. It’s getting more and more difficult to determine what the ‘right thing’ to do is, and the pressure is always on Patton to make the call. He’s supposed to know, but sometimes…

Sometimes he doesn’t.

*****

“I’ve figured it out!”

Logan rises up in Patton’s room, grinning from ear to ear. His glasses are slightly askew and he has a large pile of notebooks and stray pieces of paper stacked precariously in his arms. Patton scrambles over to help Logan by taking some of his load, but then has to quickly dump them onto his bed as his arms begin to shake under the weight he was unprepared to carry.

Patton turns around to face Logan and laughs. “Wow, Logan, I haven’t seen you this happy in… well, ever! But, uh… what did you figure out, exactly?”

Logan rolls his eyes and places his load on the ground at his feet. He fixes his glasses, straightens his tie and runs a hand through his hair a few times before clearing his throat. Patton’s heart sinks at the way Logan’s expression quickly settles back into one of cold indifference.

“I think I’ve finally managed to figure out why we exist in this particular form,” Logan gestures to himself, “and why Thomas is able to summon us to his side at will.”

“This is about all those weird dreams Thomas keeps having, right? Roman mentioned it the other day.”

Logan nods. “It is.” He pauses. “Well, partially. I believe the dreams are a result of an event that occurred during an earlier stage of Thomas’ life. I'm thinking it’s either a result of some kind of genetic mutation, or a genetic alteration.”

Patton blinks.

“...What about the glitter?”

Logan stills.

“What.”

Patton’s brow furrows. “Wasn’t there glitter in one of Thomas’ dreams? I could’ve sworn Roman mentioned it…”

Logan blinks. Slowly, a realisation dawns on him.

“Oh, of course, the glitter.” Logan gently hits the side of his head with his palm. “I completely forgot that was a factor.” He sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Now I’ll have to revise everything,” he mutters.

Patton frowns. “Maybe you should take a break, Logan. You’ve been working on this,” he gestures to the stacks of notebooks, “for a really long time.”

“I’ve taken plenty of breaks, Patton.”

Patton crosses his arms. “I mean a proper one.”

Logan huffs. “Patton, I’m not a child. You do not have to… monitor me.”

Patton’s eyes go wide. “Monitor—“ He stops, squeezes his eyes shut and massages his temples. He releases a slow, steady breath before he opens his eyes and lowers his arms. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Logan scoffs and looks away.

“Logan, what’s gotten into you?”

Logan chooses to ignore the question as he retrieves his notebooks.

“I really should’ve expected this.”

“Wha — What—“ Patton splutters. “Expected what?”

“You are the heart. I am the mind. It’s common for us to be at odds, especially when you’d always rather Thomas spend time with friends rather than study.”

When Logan looks at Patton, there’s fire in his eyes. He’s glaring daggers, and Patton has to force himself not to flinch away.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Patton’s voice is loud, and he’s very close to yelling. He hopes he won’t have to resort to such an extreme.

Logan shakes his head. “Nothing.”

He sinks out, and Patton is left alone in Nostalgia Nirvana as guilt settles in his chest like a pebble.

*****

Anxiety /aŋˈzʌɪəti/ NOUN A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.

A nervous disorder marked by excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behaviour or panic attacks.

Thomas is floating. Around him is a pitch-black void. Above him, a hand comes into view, sparkling glitter pinched between its fingers.

The glitter falls. It’s a variety of different colours, and it almost looks like a rainbow.

Thomas reaches for the glitter, wanting to feel it between his fingertips. The moment the glitter makes contact with his hand, it turns a deep purple — or is it violet? Thomas barely has any time to process the change before he finds himself falling. As he falls, he swears he can hear a voice, but it’s extremely muffled, as if he’s hearing it from underwater. Slowly, however, the voice grows louder, and Thomas can almost hear what it’s saying—

“Thomas!”

Thomas’ anxiety spikes. His eyes fly open and he sits up, barely aware enough to recognise where he is. He’s faintly aware of his chest heaving and the uneven breaths he’s taking, but that’s about it.

Someone nearby mutters a swear, and the next thing Thomas knows, he’s being guided off the bed — his bed, he was in his bed — and onto the carpeted floor. He really should be more concerned about the stranger in his bedroom, but oddly enough, he feels like he can trust them.

“Breathe, Thomas. Four-seven-eight, remember?”

Yes, Thomas remembers. Unfortunately, his chest feels like it’s crushing itself with every breath he takes.

The stranger gathers Thomas’ hands into their own and places them against their chest. Thomas can feel their heart pounding.

“You feel that?”

Thomas nods.

“Cool. Now, I want you to focus on that and copy my breathing, okay?”

Thomas nods again. Despite his aching chest, he allows the stranger to guide him through the exercise. As he breathes, he can hear the stranger murmuring words of encouragement.

“Keep it up, Thomas. That’s good, keep going.”

Eventually, after what seems like hours but is really only a few minutes, Thomas is able to breathe normally, and his chest no longer aches with every breath. The haze of panic is fading, and Thomas is finally able to get a good look at the stranger who helped him. They’re wearing an unzipped black plaid jacket with the hood up, and Thomas can see they’re wearing a black shirt underneath. The hood plus their bangs makes it very difficult to see their face, though Thomas is pretty sure he can see eyeshadow smudged underneath their eyes.

The only word that comes to mind to describe them is ‘edgy’.

The stranger mutters something under their breath before reaching up and pulling the hood off their head. They run a hand through their hair, and Thomas can’t help but notice it looks almost identical to his own.

Just like that, everything clicks.

“You’re a Side.”

The Side smiles wryly in Thomas’ direction. “Sure am.”

“I have more than three?!”

“Clearly.” The Side’s voice is monotone, and Thomas can’t help but think he’s being mocked. “Oh, and I’m Anxiety, by the way, thanks for asking.”

Thomas very quickly decides he does not like this new Side.

Anxiety sits back on his heels. “That was one heck of a dream you were having, huh? Though I guess that’s nothing compared to all the others you’ve been having.”

“You know about those?”

“Well, duh.” Anxiety stands and stretches. Thomas does the same. “I kinda have to be able to monitor your dreams so I can wake you up if shit gets real.”

“Do you know anything about them?”

Anxiety raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, kid.”

Thomas’ internal groan is very loud, and he’s glad only he can hear it. “Well, we’ve been trying to figure out what they mean for weeks now, but—“

“Magic.”

Thomas blinks. “What?”

Anxiety perches himself on the end of Thomas’ bed. “These dreams are a result of you being exposed to magic as a baby.”

Thomas’ brow furrows. “Are you messing with me?”

“Nope,” Anxiety responds, popping the ‘p’. “I know it sounds absurd, like something Princey would come up with, but I’m serious. How else do you think we exist?”

“You expect me to believe the reason I have Sides is because of magic?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, no. Hate to break it to you, bud, but magic doesn’t exist.”

Anxiety pulls his jacket tighter around himself. “That’s Logic talking. If magic didn’t exist, then nor would we.”

“You’re making absolutely no sense.”

“I’d like to think I’m making perfect sense.”

Thomas’ teeth grind. “I’d like you to know that you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

Anxiety smirks. Thomas glares. For a moment, the two of them are locked in a staring contest.

Thomas loses.

Anxiety cackles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna take my leave before my presence attracts… unwanted attention. Well, unwanted for me, not so much for you.”

Anxiety stands up and prepares to sink out, but pauses. He snaps his fingers as if he’s just remembered something, then turns to face Thomas.

“Hey, by the way, you might wanna check in with those three. I hear they’re not doing so hot.”

Anxiety sinks out, but not before shooting Thomas a lazy two-fingered salute. Once he’s gone, Thomas’ face falls and he flops back onto his bed, not bothering to fix the blankets. He grabs his pillow and shoves his face into it, allowing it to muffle the extremely loud groan he can finally release.

“Why is my personality so complicated?”