#it was the worse essay i’ve ever submitted but at least it’s over

[lord-of-bad-art]

more lotf doodles (i’m procrastinating on my other wips rn 🥲)

yes i didn’t feel like drawing the faces on the one in the bottom left don’t attack me

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Troublemaker (Before)

Previously on Troublemaker

“See! You’re having a good time!”

The music pulsated through the streets, and Lexa didn’t care that her sister was gloating because she really was having a good time despite all intentions otherwise. The sun was bright and glaring without a cloud in the sky, and downtown was brimming with all colors, alive and vibrant, celebrating. And she as swept up in it, proud and overflowing with the music and freedom of being completely herself and being completely unknown in the crowd. 

It’d been a hard fought battle for her to agree to come with her sister to Pride, but she didn’t have anything else to do, and because of Anya’s need to be an overachiever, something they both ascribed to genetics, she was going to be doing an internship and leaving soon enough, thus cutting their summer together incredibly short. The guilt and her sister’s incessant need to prove a point brought them downtown for the day, and Lexa was almost okay with it.

“I knew you would like it,” Anya gloated, dancing around with her sister in the pulsating group of bodies at the concert in the park. 

“Is it always like this?” 

A gaggle of scantily-clad men moved through in nothing but speedos and suspenders, and Lexa let one of them grab her and twirl her around. The entire day, she’d been absolutely adored and adoring of everyone around her. An inundation of love and support was enough to make her unsure of how to go back to real life.

Her sister watched as Lexa danced, hands up, smiling wide and overjoyed. She enjoyed the fact that her sister came out to her and she could actually do something about it. Though straight, Anya spent her first two years of college taking a crash course in gay when her random roommate was a very out and very proud girl who liked to use Anya as a wngman. She was incredibly helpful in coming up with things to help Lexa feel normal and supported, and Anya was going ot be the best big sister possible. She was that type A.

“Pride is always like this,” Anya promised. “And you get to be super gay anytime you want. Isn’t that great?” 

“You’re worse than mom and dad. They’re like oddly proud to have a gay kid.” 

“Nah, just because you’re you.” 

“Shut up,” Lexa rolled her eyes and moved, wiggling around, goofy and carefree. 

For the entire day, the sisters moved through the crowds, checking out vendors, eating delicious food, listening to speakers, and got decked out in glowing necklaces and rainbows painted on their faces. It was exhausting to be so gay, but Lexa finally understood what she’d been missing in her fear of joining the GSA, and her fear of being out at school. She hadn’t thought about how wonderful it would be to not have to worry about hiding, or at least, not actively living. 

“Thank you,” Lexa offered, as the pair stood on the side of the road for the parade. She hugged her sister as the sun began to set between the tall buildings. “This has been the best day of my life.”

“You’re a sap.” 

“I am not.” 

“You are.” 

“I’m not,” she smiled and danced around, her sister not used to such a carefree girl in front of her. “I’m just super gay-- Oops, I’m so sorr--”

Lexa stopped moving after bumping into someone behind her, not paying attention and living her life too widely and too queerly for such a confined area. She gaped and stared at the body she bumped into, more mortified than she’d been in her entire life. 

The body came attached to a pretty face. A familiar face. A face with bright blue eyes, and a mischievous grin and a messy bunch of wavy blonde hair. A face that had a tongue ring. A face that was attached to the girl who protested the Sadie Hawkins dance, the pep rally, and last year single handedly turned the swimming pool pink for women’s history month.This was the same face that Lexa couldn’t help but stare at anytime she walked by in the halls at school. This was the face that didn’t even know she existed. 

Clarke Griffin stared back in equal parts amazement at the girl who did the bumping. In all of her wildest dreams, she never imagined Lexa Woods, class president, Academic Decathlon team captain, Student of the Quarter, perfect attendance-winning, overall adorable nerd, would be standing next to her at Pride. And not just standing-- dancing, covered in rainbows, and smiling in something other than a primly put together button up shirt with a schedule strapped to her chest. 

“Clarke,” Lexa gulped, unable to say anything else, unable to hide her fear and confusion. “I-I-I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was just… um… ” 

“It’s okay. Kind of close quarters and you were just being super queer,” she returned gracefully as she eyed the entire being of Lexa on summer break. “I didn’t think I’d run into anyone here. I thought everyone left for summer.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, I’m always recruiting people for my zine. Intersectional politics and good music with a queer tint. Honestly, it’s whatever anyone submits. We set up a tiny booth,” Clarke explained, rambling slightly. “And I’m kind of gay.” 

“Kind of?” 

This was incredibly new and important news to Lexa, even if she didn’t know what to do with it.The entire school knew that Clarke ran with the same crowd, a crowd Lexa didn’t know anything about other than idle gossip. And it always looked like she was very close to Bellamy Blake. Romantically close. 

“Bi.”

“You have to go?” 

“No-- no… I’m bisexual.” 

Lexa felt her face burn and she wanted to melt into a puddle, right there in the early June evening. Maybe disappear into the sewer and wash away into the sea for the rest of time. But she didn’t. Instead, she just stood there, in front of the biggest badass tough guy hot girl she’s ever seen in her entire life. 

It was the longest they’d ever spoken, and she’d ruined it in under three minutes after learning that Clarke was gay-ish.

“That’s cool,” she finally managed, earning a small smile. 

Clarke pushed some hair away from her face and scratched her neck, using the pause to look at Lexa’s legs. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t try too much. 

“Is this your first Pride?” 

“Is it that obvious?” Lexa sighed, bashful at her display. 

“No, you look cute. I like the festiveness.” 

That didn’t help anything at all. Lexa looked around for her sister who made herself busy talking to other people and not at all available to bail her out of saying anymore words. 

“I’m gay,” Lexa finally blurted after a prolongued moment of silence. 

“That’s cool.” 

“Thanks.” 

A shout reached them over the noise of the parade, and both looked in that direction. 

“I have to um,” Clarke looked over her shoulder at the group that was calling her name. “I have to go catch up with my friends.”

“Right, yeah, definitely.” 

“It was good to see you, Woods,” she grinned as she backed away. “I hope I get to bump into you again.” 

“Right, yeah! Me, uh. Me too,” Lexa nodded.   

With another wave, Clarke was gone, swept up by her friends as they moved through the crowd. Lexa caught the look that Clarke gave her over her shoulder and she smiled because she got a look back. It might not have meant anything, but it still felt kind of good. 

“Your first Pride, and you’re getting chatted up by a grade A hottie. I’m impressed,” her sister slung her arm over her shoulder. 

“That was just a girl from school.” 

“She was not what I pictured for your type.” 

“I don’t-- I don’t have a type,” Lexa furrowed. 

“Everyone does. It just so happens that yours seems to be punk baddies with probable daddy issues.” 

“There’s no way you could know--”

“She was digging you too, by the way.” 

“There’s no-- I don’t-- She wouldn’t-- That was-- No,” Lexa shook her head. 

“Trust me. I’ve seen gay relief, and that girl was gay relieved you were gay.” 

“That’s not a thing.” 

“Don’t be mad because i have my ear to the ground in the gay community,” Anya shook her head. “I’ll have you know that Kaitlyn said I’d make a great lesbian.”

“Please let me die right here.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

The library on Fourth Street was nearly always empty around the end of lunch time. It seemed to empty out come the hottest part of the day with the normal crowd of parents and kids looking to stay busy during the long summer hours came in for story time and craft projects. 

With no particular impetus to move quickly, Lexa pushed her cart of returns through the aisles and rearranged any messy or disorganized stacks she found. But her head wasn’t particularly in it. 

Instead, Lexa thought about Pride, and replayed the entire interaction with a certain mild degenerate who had a pretty smile, who called her cute, she realized, halfway through overanalyzing it again for the hundredth time. All she could wonder was if this is what having a crush felt? And if so, was it possible to have crush after just three minutes? Nothing really prepared her for this. How could it? He didn’t have time for a crush. She only had to focus and get into the school she wanted. And then she could be who she thought she might want to be. 

“Hey Woods.” 

Lexa stopped as she turned to the next aisle, only to find the exact subject of her internal debate. There was a book tucked into her elbow as she retracted an arm reached out to grab something on a top shelf. Lexa looked to her bare arms, and then to her hips where a flannel was tied, and only subtly hiding her short shorts and some of the long legs and Lexa was gay. 

“I know it’s a library, but I’m sure you can talk a little bit,” Clarke smiled. 

Sunglasses tucked and holding her hair up out of her face, the girl had a motorcycle helmet tucked into the same elbow as the book. 

“Hey,” Lexa managed. 

“You work here?” 

“Yeah, just doing some little things, stacking, kids story time and stuff.” 

“Sounds fun,” Clarke nodded. She leaned against the shelf behind her and watched Lexa push her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. This was the Lexa she was used to seeing, and it did nothing to make her less interested, which was insanely weird. 

“Here for anything good?” 

“Uh, just some of the summer reading for Lit. And I’m kind of interested in a few SAT practice books. I took it already, but there’s one more that I can take before applications are due, and I’d like to see if I can do a little better.” 

It certainly wasn’t the reason Lexa expected, but she should have known better to expect anything from someone she really didn’t know other than through stories of stories of stories from other people. 

“Sounds like you have a busy summer planned.” 

Clarke laughed and ducked her head and Lexa tried not to be entranced by the action. 

“Have to keep busy between the protests and debauchery.” 

“Right, same.” 

“Everyone kind of left for the summer, it seems. It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?” 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Lexa agreed. “I miss my friends, but I’ve gotten a lot of things done.” 

“I’m sure you’re already done with the summer homework.” 

“No… well, just most of it.” 

“We’re two weeks into summer break, Woods,” Clarke pretended to admonish. Lexa shrugged, slightly guilty. “We’re going to have to find something to keep you busy.” 

“I think work will take care of that.” 

“You’re forgetting that I saw you at Pride. I know that you know how to have fun,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows slightly. “And I know that you find me absolutely irresistible and cute.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” 

“So you admit it then?” 

“What? No,” Lexa shook her head and pushed her cart down the row, looking for the place to put the next in her pile. 

But Clarke wasn’t ready to leave, and she hung around, pushing off of the shelf only to follow Lexa and hover closer than Lexa could almost handle. 

“You checked me out at Pride.” 

“I did not.” 

“You did. I saw it. And you let me know you were interested in girls. If you didn’t know yet, I’m a girl, so the math seems to be adding up.” 

“Correlation does not imply causation,” Lexa responded quickly. “Your logic is not at all close to sound.” 

“So you don’t like me?” 

“I don’t even know you. If anything, I just find your face and,” Lexa moved her hand in Clarke’s direction, “that, all, pleasing.” 

“Good to know.” 

“Who even walks around telling people that they find them attractive. It’s maddening to have that much confidence.” 

Lexa jammed the book into the shelf as Clarke leaned beside her, grinning that grin that meant she was amused. That was also maddening. All of it suddenly was maddening, and Lexa missed the quiet of her shelves and wished she could go back in time and not let herself go to Pride. Then she wouldn’t have to see Clarke Griffin. 

“I like to have a healthy opinion of myself.” Lexa snorted. “And you should have one of yourself. Want to know a secret?” 

It was the smile that did it. And the eyes. But Lexa looked at Clarke and softened somewhat. It was due to the proximity, she told herself. Nothing else that she could control. 

“Sure.” 

“I didn’t really need these books,” Clarke offered. “I mean, I could have just ordered them online like a normal person. And I live closer to the Redwood Branch.” 

“Then why’d you come here?” 

“Hard to imagine you’re the valedictorian,” she chuckled. “I came to see you.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah. I saw you at Pride and was intrigued. Thought I might feel it out a little bit.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Why not, Woods?” Clarke sighed. “I’ve got nothing but time and… well, I didn’t know you were into girls.”

“How can you be so just… How can you just say what you’re thinking?” 

“Lots of practice,” she smiled. 

“I could never imagine just… just… just…” Lexa waved her hands around slightly as she tried to explain what she couldn’t. “I couldn’t just do that. What if it went badly?” 

“Is it going badly?” 

“No, but-- wait. Maybe. What I mean is…” It didn’t help that Clarke was leaning closer and Lexa was stuck in the stacks with a girl that was flirting with her and she’d never had that before and it was way better than she could have ever imagined. “Wouldn’t ou have been embarrassed if I just ignored you or something?” 

“Oh yeah, big time,” Clarke nodded. “But my dad used to tell me to do one thing every day that scared me. Figured I’d get it done before dinnertime today.” 

She was charming and honest and refreshing and unlike anyone Lexa had ever met. It was a whirlwind. 

“I have to finish this before my shift ends,” she tore her eyes away from Clarke’s and looked back at her cart. 

“Right, yeah, definitely,” Clarke agreed. 

“I should do that.” 

“I should go check these out.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you around this summer.” 

“Yeah,” Clarke grinned. “Maybe.” 

Lexa stood there as Clarke turned back toward reception.

“Clarke-- I um,” Lexa watched as she turned around. “I’ve never flirted… with anyone, really.” 

“That is surprising news.” 

She could tell from her tone that it wasn’t news, and Lexa pursed her lips and set her jaw. She stood a little straighter, steeling herself. 

“I hope I see you around.” 

“We do seem to keep running into each other.” 

With a final smile, Clarke winked and disappeared. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Standing outside of the house on the corner, Clarke looked at the perfectly trimmed hedges and the flag that hung by the door. The lawn was manicured and neat, the house was beautiful, lit up and glowing with life inside in the waning light. It was in the suburbs and insanely suburban. A tire swing hung from a giant oak. A basketball hoop hung over the garage. 

For the life of her, Clarke wasn’t sure how she ended up here, except that she made herself stand awkwardly in front of Lexa Wood’s house. Three years ago, she met Lexa as a freshman, and instantly had a crush on the girl who argued with her in history class. But Clarke also decided to avoid having a crush on the cute girl who pushed up her glasses and tried very hard to be absolutely perfect. 

She still kind of always had a crush, despite her refusal to admit it. For the past three years, Clarke tried to make Lexa smile from time to time. She’d do something stuipd and make sure Lexa was watching. 

But Pride was one of the few times in the past year they’d spoken. And Clarke was certain that now was her chance, so she took it. And after the library, she spent every day for a week and a  half showing up at the library. She brought Lexa lunch a few times, followed her around the stacks, chatting and fully developing a crush. It was easy to do. Lexa was funny, and serious, and witty, and quiet, and smart, like ridiculously smart, and she wasn’t afraid of Clarke, or intimidated. She debated her with vigor, had opinions, had plans, and more importantly, had dreams. 

Clarke knew why she was standing on Lexa’s front porch, and she knew why she was slightly nervous to knock, she just hated someone being able to do that, in equal parts as much as she craved it. 

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that this was good before she knocked. 

“Hey,” Lexa greeted her, smiling and pushing up her glasses as she does her best to not look winded from running to the door. 

“Hey,” Clarke sighs,  matching her grin, forgetting all of the thoughts of before. “You look really nice.” 

“Thanks. I, uh, you too. I like the black eye in particular.” 

“Oh, this?” she motioned toward the eye that had a little bruising. “Just, um. Bopped myself in the face while working out.” 

“What were you doing? Boxing?” 

“Krav Maga. My partner got a little overzealous.” 

“Goodness.” 

“I’ll try to be extra charming to make up for my disfigurement. I hope your gentle eyes can make it past my horrible appearance.” 

“I’ll do my best to look past it.”

“Good,” Clarke smiled and handed over a helmet. “Are you ready for the first date?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

They walked toward the motorcycle sitting near the curb. Clarke pressed her palm to the flat of Lexa’s back. She handed over a helmet and Lexa looked at it curiously. 

“For your protection. Have you ever ridden on anything like this before?” 

“I’ve driven go karts.”

“Not the same thing,” Clarke chuckled. “Here, I’ll help.” 

The helmet eclipsed her, but Lexa tilted it upwards so that Clarke’s skilled fingers could tighten the strap beneath it. She lifted the visor and watched Clarke work. 

“I feel like a badass.” 

“You are.” 

“Do I look the part?” Lexa asked, smiling slightly as Clarke hopped on the motorcycle and put on her own helmet. 

“Very much,” she promised, flipping down both of their visors. “Hold on tight.” 

The date wasn’t anything fancy, but Clarke was hoping it was enough. They drove to the park, with Lexa’s arms wrapped tightly around her, and she took the long way, nice and slow, just for that reason. 

The park was busy, fully of people ready to enjoy the evening and a movie. Clarke unloaded a blanket and her backpack full of snacks, fully prepared to show off her dateable skills. From what she knew about Lexa, she assumed it was her first first date, and she was going to set the bar extremely high. 

Before the movie started, they talked about nothing in particular, and Clarke was careful to get in a little teasing, which Lexa returned, smiling the entire time, challenging her. During the movie, Clarke let Lexa lay her head on her lap, and shivered because she gave her the only sweatshirt she had. 

Even after it ended, they remained, hanging out in the twilight and talking, hovering, close and unsure and happy. Later into the night, after another trip back to Lexa’s, Clarke bashfully stood on the porch and earned a hug and completely bungled the kiss, unable to read Lexa and unable to make herself that brave. 

“Did you have a good time?” Clarke ventured, leaning against the railing. 

“I really did. Thank you.” 

“Maybe we could do it again sometime.” 

“I’d like that.” 

“Good.”

“Good.” 

“Great,” Clarke grinned. 

“Great.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was almost like a game at this point, for Lexa to stumble upon Clarke somewhere in the library during her shift. Rarely was it in the same place twice, and rarely was it when she was expecting it, though she found herself always looking forward to the smile and girl that sometimes brought her snacks. 

For the first month of summer break, Lexa didn’t even realize she’d spent most of it talking to or spending time with Clarke Griffin. It just kind of happened, and she found herself getting attached. She found herself flirting, or so she thought. She definitely found herself flirted with, which was still so wonderful. 

Clarke wasn’t what she’d thought. She was insanely frustrating and still too hot for her own good, and smarter than she wanted anyone to know, while at the same time being absolutely addicted to her moral code and her’s alone. 

In a month, Lexa learned that Clarke was not in a gang, despite everyone thinking it was a gang, but rather had a close knit group of friends that occasionally contributed to shenanigans of a disruptive nature. She learned that she was a hell of an artist, sketching things here and there, and when they ventured out on a hike or spent time lounging around, showed her sketchbook very timidly. She learned that Clarke’s father died three years ago, and that was where she disappeared to freshman year. She learned that Clarke liked to work on her motorcycle herself instead of taking to a shop because she wanted to feel closer to her father. Lexa spent an entire afternoon learning parts of the bike and helping with an oil change. 

For an entire month, Clarke pushed Lexa. She pushed her to go on dates. She pushed her to jump off of the old bridge foundation at the river when they went swimming. She pushed her to watch a few movies she wasn’t sure of. She pushed her to egg street signs for the first time ever. 

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for a book about a cute librarian who has a crush on a girl named Clarke. Know where I can find that?” 

Lexa smiled despite herself as she turned the corner in one of the farther aisles in the library’s second floor. 

“I was just thinking about you.” 

“All good things I hope.” 

“More or less.” 

That seemed like good enough for Clarke who returned Lexa’s smile. The two stood there, close in the tight aisle, but used to the proximity. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to come over tonight. We could watch a movie and you could read my essay and give a million edit suggestions. I’ll even let you use your red pen.” 

“It shows up better.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Clarke humored her. 

“I’ll be over after dinner then.”

“Good.” 

“Were you leaving already?” Lexa furrowed as Clarke shoulder her backpack and shifted instead of getting comfortable or even grabbing some of the books to help her put back on the shelves. 

“I have to see a guy about a thing.”

“Just a drive by today, and no snack?” 

“Like I would ever leave you wanting,” Clarke tsk’d as she dug in her bag and pulled out Lexa’s favorite assortment of gummy bears. “I know what you like, Woods.” 

“You’re spoiling me. I’ll have to start working out more often or I’ll be too slow for track.” 

“You’re fit. I mean, you’re--”

“Perv.” 

“Sometimes,” Clarke shrugged. 

Lexa held her bag of snacks in her hand and smiled at them softly. She saw Clarke’s shoes nearly touching her own, and when she looked up, she realized how close they truly were. But she didn’t move. She just stood there and tried to figure out what Clarke’s eyes were saying, because they were furrowed until they weren’t, and then there was a peace there, a decisive calm. 

Lexa felt a hand on her shirt, grasping it near her heartbeat. Clarke paused before she did it, waiting for Lexa to pull away, asking for permission. Only when she got it, did she lean forward and kiss Lexa enough to take her breath away. The only thing Lexa could hear was the blood thumping in her ears, but she ignored it and kissed Clarke back eagerly. 

“Thanks, Woods,” Clarke murmured after a few seconds. “I needed that.” 

“Yeah, no, yeah.” 

“I’ll see you later.” 

“Right, later, mhm,” Lexa nodded and ran her thumb along her bottom lip as Clarke moved, leaving her rooted and blushing. 

“If you liked that, we could do it more often,” Clarke offered as she walked backward out of the shelves. 

“Sounds very good to me.”

[hms-chill]

Kicking Underwater

Summary: "He's not going to be the youngest elected congressman in history without earning it, but nobody needs to know how hard he's kicking underwater. His sex-symbol stock would plummet" -- Casey McQuiston, page 3

----

Henry knows that Alex's midterm season will be hard. He knows Alex overworks himself, so he talks to June, and he makes sure he knows exactly how to look after Alex when he's at his busiest. He's ready to come home early when he can, bringing Alex's favorite takeout for days when making dinner together would take too much time. He's ready to drag Alex to bed by two AM, ready to keep him from drinking too much coffee and hiding in the office with the blinds closed all day.

What he isn't ready for is a version of Alex at midterms who seems normal, if a bit more tired. Yes, Alex is working more, but it seems reasonable. They still have their biweekly cooking lessons, and Alex joins him for David's walks sometimes. He comes to bed at reasonable hours, and he promises he's hydrating and eating while Henry's gone. So, even if Alex starts to look more tired or worried, things seem to be alright. He still works hard, he has late nights of studying or dog walks where he spends the whole time thinking aloud about an essay, but it's far from the self-destruction Henry was afraid of.

Maybe, just maybe, he's been able to help Alex relax. If Alex looks more tired, maybe it's just showing on his face more than normal. He's tossing and turning a bit more at night, but he always seems to relax when Henry holds him. If he looks more stressed, well, they can't exactly expect a stress-free midterm season. But things don't seem much worse than normal, and June seems happy, so Henry convinces himself not to be worried. He still worries, of course, but he tries to convince himself not to.

There's one week in particular that he's dreading. It's a week when Alex has two tests and an essay, and the class he's a TA for has a test, so he has forty-some essay questions to grade amidst his own studying.

But Sunday ends, and the chaos week starts, and things seem alright.

Alex's class take their test on Monday, and Alex brings home a stack of papers, but he agrees to take a break and walk David while Henry proofreads his essay, and they both agree that it's a good enough essay to call it for the night. Henry thinks it's good enough to turn in, but Alex wants to tweak it, and it's not worth the argument as long as Alex is coming to bed without Henry having to plead.

He looks tired on Tuesday, but he swears he's alright, and Henry trusts him. It must just be the stress of the week. He makes sure to tell Alex he loves him a few extra times, and even convinces Alex to accept a shoulder rub while he grades essays and makes study guides. And really, all things considered, it seems good.

Henry's not sure what wakes him up somewhere that feels like Tuesday night but is technically Wednesday morning, but when he cuddles closer to Alex to try to go back to sleep, there's a light. He opens his eyes a bit to see Alex awake, one hand around Henry, the other furiously typing into his phone. In the light of the phone screen he looks exhausted, the bags under his eyes exaggerated and every stress line deepened by the long shadows. Henry hums, reaching a heavy hand up to push Alex's phone down. Alex looks over in surprise, phone still in place.

"Hen? What are you doing up?"

"You?" Henry asks in place of an answer. Alex sighs.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd get some more work done."

Except that, when Alex wants to sleep but can't, he gets up. He'll get a glass of water, or he'll wander down to the kitchen in search of helados, or he'll go to a window for some fresh air. Once, Henry even found him looking up yoga poses in the hallway outside their room. An Alex who wants to sleep but can't is a restless creature, a far cry from the boy gently stroking Henry's hair with a google doc open on his phone. Henry just shakes his head. "No. Stop work. Sleep."

"I can't sleep. I've just got to clean this essay up a bit, and then I can stop worrying about it."

"Please sleep?" Henry asks, finally awake enough for complete sentences. "It'll be there in the morning."

"So will everything else. I just have to get it done; go back to sleep."

"I thought it was done." It's due tomorrow, but Alex had said he'd turned the essay in earlier that day. Henry wonders vaguely if he can re-submit it, or if he'd never actually turned it in.

"It's... fine. It's good enough, maybe, but it's not great. I'm just... making it better so I can turn it in again and have it be great."

"It doesn't need to be great. It's okay. You're working so hard, and you're doing your best, and that's all anyone can ask. You don't need to keep working all the time, you need to sleep. You're enough as you are," Henry says.

Alex finally lets him push the phone down as he rolls over to bury his face in Henry's chest. Henry's a bit surprised, but he pulls Alex in close, rubbing his back as Alex's hands grab onto the pajama shirt Henry wears mostly so that Alex can hold onto him if he needs to, just like this. Henry just holds him until Alex looks up and says, "you're the only one who's ever said that. That I'm good enough, I mean. Other people say... they say I'm smart, or good at things, but then I have to keep being smart and good at things so I don't disappoint them. I always, always have to keep... keep being those things without trying, because if they seem me trying, or if I'm not smart or good at things, then they... it feels like they won't like me. But you... you're the only one who ever says I don't have to be anything more than I am."

"You don't, love. You're enough. Everything you do, everything you are... you're more than enough, and I adore you just how you are. I love how hard you try, but it's... you don't need to. Not for me, at least. For me, just being you is enough."

Alex lets out a snort of a laugh, humorless, his hands still tangled in Henry's shirt. "I... I don't think anyone's really gotten to see me trying before. Maybe June knows, but that's because she's smart and knows everything, not because I let her see. I... really, no one was supposed to know how hard I work. It... I'm supposed to just be naturally good at everything; I'm not supposed to have to try."

"Well, that's not very realistic."

"I know, but it... it's how it's supposed to be."

"Says who?"

"Everyone. I can't be, you know, millennial heartthrob Alex Claremont-Diaz if I have to wear reading glasses, or if I'm skipping parties to write essays, or if I drop out of school because I fail con law and I can never look Professor Westbrook in the eye again." Henry presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, trying to smooth the wrinkles there, as he processes that. He can't promise that the world will love a bespectacled Alex as much as he does, or that anyone in their right mind would understand if a law school student has to focus on a test. So instead, he focuses on the last point, knowing for a fact that Alex's con law grade is miles from forcing him to drop out.

"What do you have in con law right now, Alex?"

"A 98%, I think. But we have a test this week, and that midterm paper isn't in yet."

"I think, with a 98% and a very good paper, you're rather far from failing."

"I still could."

"I'd love you anyway. So would your family, and Nora and Bea and Pez."

"Maybe. You'd all be disappointed, though."

"We wouldn't. Or, well, I wouldn't, at least. Not if you'd done your best."

"If... if I tried and still failed, you wouldn't be disappointed in me?"

"Not at all. I love you, and I don't think I could ever truly be disappointed in you for trying." Alex looks genuinely surprised by that, and Henry's heart breaks a bit as he realizes that Alex wasn't sure of this.

"I'm proud of everything you do," Henry says softly, pressing a kiss to Alex's forehead. "I'm proud of your work ethic, and your drive to make things better. I'm proud of you when you ask for help, and when you give yourself a break, and when you put your life on hold to help people you care about, and when you're able to say no to people because you need to do something for yourself. I am always, always proud of you and the good things you do."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't need to be anything more than who you are and want to be. I'm proud of you, and I love you, and you're enough for me, no matter what."

Alex's phone buzzes from somewhere between them, but Alex ignores it to close his eyes, resting his forehead on Henry's collarbone.

"I'm proud of you. Not the things you've done, not the bits and pieces that you let everyone see. You, fully and completely. You're more than enough to make me happy forever," Henry says softly. Alex takes one deep breath, then another. Henry keeps him close, rubbing gentle circles into his back as Alex slowly accepts the compliment.

"I... I think I needed to hear that. I've been... if I tell you something, will you promise not to be mad or take that back?"

Henry nods, and into his chest, Alex says, "I've been working on study guides and essays from my phone while you sleep. Just for the past few days, but I... I wanted to be able to work, but I didn't want you to worry, so I... I waited for you to fall asleep, and then I'd stay here but work on things until I was too tired to think anymore. I'm sorry I lied. And... and that I pushed too hard. I didn't... it wasn't the plan, it just happened, I guess. I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"It's alright. I mean, it's not... I wish you hadn't, but I'm glad you told me, and I'd like to help you look after yourself. If you need to stay up later to work, you can tell me. If we need to skip a cooking lesson or a dog walk or anything, just say the word, and we'll skip it. I'm proud of how much you want to do well, and I'm proud of you for letting me know you're pushing yourself a bit too much. Could I help with the school stuff at all? Maybe I could quiz you, or grade a multiple choice section of some of the tests if the professor doesn't mind?"

"I... I think the quizzing would be good when I have a study guide. And for grading, I... I'll talk to the professor." Alex doesn't move, so Henry presses a kiss to the top of his head and says, "I love you. And I'm proud of you, I really, really am. You're more than I could have ever dreamed of, and more than enough for me."

Alex's phone buzzes again, and Henry fishes it out from between them by the charging cord, reaching over Alex to set it on the end table, switching it to do not disturb. When both his arms are back around his boyfriend, Alex cuddles in closer. He's snoring softly into Henry's chest within moments.

He's beautiful. Knowing what the days before this have been hurt Henry's heart, knowing that Alex has been so exhausted and that Henry hadn't been able to convince him to look after himself. But this Alex, the one who's finally resting, is beautiful. So Henry holds him close, and he kisses the top of Alex's head, and he swears to anyone who might listen that he's going to look after Alex. He's going to make sure Alex knows that he's proud of and supports him no matter how he does in his classes or internship or anything else. And, from now until the end of time, Henry swears that Alex will know exactly how overwhelmingly, unendingly loved he is.

On AO3

Notes:

Me? Writing something to process the terror of graduating from college when all your options are shut down by a pandemic? Never.

-

Want to support the Hannah-Makes-Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

[latestageyouth]

When you walk away (nothing more to say)

Chapter 1 - The new kid

Trigger warnings: uhhh selective mutism?, swearing, sympathetic Deceit and Remus

word count: somewhere around 3,000

Author's note: do not hold me responsible for any cringiness, I've written this a long time ago

As soon as the bell rang Roman put his books in the bag and was out the door.

"Remember to submit your essay on Thursday!" Mrs. Harrison said just in time for Roman to hear before he headed to his locker. There, he already saw Patton.

"Hey, Pat! Long time no see!" he waved to his friend and began to unlock his locker.

Patton looked at him with a confused smile, "We talked to each other an hour ago," he put his math textbook into his locker before closing it and hugging Roman.

"An hour too long," the other laughed. Roman opened his eyes to see Logan approaching them, "Hey, specs, finally decided to join us?"

At the mention of Logan, Patton spun around and hugged the other too, "Hey Lo!" Roman could practically see Logan tense under the touch, but he didn't pull back.

"Nice to see you too, Patton," after the said boy freed his from his embrace, Logan adjusted his glasses on his face, "So, shall we go eat? I haven't eaten anything all day, so I would appreciate if we could go to the cafeteria now," the other two nodded and headed down the hallway, Patton scolding Logan about how skipping meals isn't healthy.

The cafeteria food was awful, like always, but Logan didn't seem to mind. Well, not as much as the other two. Roman and Patton didn't get any food, Logan and Patton bickering about hypocrisy and food habits, Roman didn't pay attention, too busy scrolling Instagram to care. What pulled him to reality was an exaggerated cough. The cough also happened to stop Logan and Patton, all of them looking up to the source of the sound.

Patton smiled at the tall stranger in front of them holding a lunch tray, "Can I help you?" the stranger gestured at himself and then at a chair at their table. Patton furrowed his eyebrows, but the smile didn't leave his face, "I'm sorry, I don't understand? Maybe use your words?" the stranger's eyebrows shot up as if he was saying something passive-aggressive, then pointed at himself and then at the chair, but this time more firmly. Patton looked between Roman and Logan, "I am really sorry, I-"

"He's asking if he can sit with you, dumbass," a voice came a few tables from their own. All four of them looked in the direction of the speaker, which the three recognized as Damon, the gossip of the school, "And before you say anything, you can sit with us, people who actually understand that maybe you can't speak," he turned to look at Patton with a plastic smile, which Roman knew he was doing on purpose.

Roman rolled his eyes, "Wow, so thoughtful. Last time I checked, you were the one making bets on which one of the choir will lose their voice first due to the intense training."

"Actually, that was me," said the other man sitting at the table with Damon, smiling like he was proud of himself.

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, "That's even worse."

The stranger looked between the two tables, before walking over to the one where Damon and the other man sat. Roman scoffed, Logan squinted his eyes at the action, as if questioning the other's sanity, and Patton pouted about losing a potential friend, but soon the three got talking about biology homework that was due today, Roman begging Logan to let him copy it.

While that was happening, the stranger sat down next to the unnamed man, who was now smiling at him, "So why can't you speak?"

"Goddamnit Remus, you can't just ask people why they don't speak. Excuse him, I'm Damon," Damon laid a hand on his chest, "So, you're mute?"

The stranger shook his head.

Damon paused, "So you just don't speak?" the stranger shook his head again and pulled out a pen. He pointed at the notebook that Damon had on the table next to his textbook. Damon slid it to him. The stranger turned to the last page and tore it out as neatly as possible, then began writing on it. After he was done he turned it so the other two could see 'I have selective mutism, do you know what that is?'

"Oh, yeah," Remus exclaimed said, "Isn't that how people have an extreme phobia of speaking in public so much they, like, can't? I think I heard about that."

The unnamed man nodded, then began writing again: 'I can only speak to my uncle. He's a counsellor at this school, do you know him? Also, my name's Virgil'

Damon smirked, "Nice to meet you, Virgil. Yeah, we were both sent to Picani a few times obligatorily, like after Remus got into a fight with a teacher, or after I pierced my tongue in the school bathroom..." and Virgil just wondered what he had got himself into, "Do you call him Picani or Emile?" Virgil raised up two of his fingers, "Emile?" Damon concluded. Virgil nodded.

Remus chuckled, "That's so weird. You two look nothing alike. You don't even have the same eye colour."

Virgil shrugged, writing on the paper once more: 'lmao, yeah, a lot of people tell me that :D'

"I never saw you at the school, did you transfer here?" Damon tilted his head. This sentence took a little longer to write: 'I moved here after my mom lost custody of me (haha finally...) This is actually my first day here. Before, I went to a school in Jacksonville.'

"Oh my god, I've never been there! Is it true that they eat raccoons in there?" Virgil looked at Remus and slowly shook his head. At that, Remus let out a sad sound.

"What about your father?"

Virgil scrunched his shoulders and looked away.

"It's okay," Damon dismissively waved his arm, "I don't know who my dad is, so I understand if you don't wanna talk about him."

Virgil gave him a warm smile and moved his hand to his lips and down and away, and if Damon didn't know any better, he would've thought he was blowing him a kiss. The problem was, Damon didn't know any better. Virgil must've seen the confusion on his and Remus' face, as he wrote down something again: 'That means thank you in asl. Do u know sign language?"

Damon and Remus shook their heads.

'Do you wanna teach it?'

"Hell yeah!" Remus shouted loud enough so that the few tables, including the one with his brother, turned to look at them.

Damon scoffed, "Of course not, why would I wanna add to my list of skills and make it easier for more people to communicate with me? Such a waste of time.."

Virgil smiled at him and let out a chuckle. Damon reached over and took the piece of paper and pen, then began writing on it. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows, which shot up his forehead when he was handed the paper and pen back.

"That's my number," Damon pointed at it.

Virgil flinched when his arm was pulled away, his sleeve being pushed up, only to have a pen pressed to it, "Aaand this is my number" Remus added a heart to it. He also tried to draw a dick on his arm but Virgil yanked his arm away and smudged the drawing out of existence.

Virgil signed 'thanks' again, only this time the couple actually smiled at him.

"We're having a movie night tonight, you wanna come?" Remus supported his head by putting his hand on his cheek, pushing it up slightly, "You gotta walk with us to my house though, gotta get there before they do," Remus looked at the table where Patton was pinching Logan's cheeks while Roman was recording the whole thing with his phone. Virgil contemplated it for a second. On one side, he met these people like 15 minutes ago. On the other side, he really needed to make some friends. Larger groups mean fewer bullies. Virgil nodded, "Great! I can't wait to piss them off!" it didn't sound sarcastic at all.

"What do you have next? Like as a period," Virgil took out his lesson plan, handing it to Damon, "Oh, we have the same class. Ms. Watson is the best teacher ever."

"She's a pain in the ass. A total drag. Everyone on this planet hates her," Remus exaggerated every insult with stabbing the table with the plastic fork, ultimately breaking it.

Damon nodded, "Yeah, basically."

The bell ripped through the cafeteria, some of the students, including Remus, flinching at the sound.

Remus began to walk away, "Well, girls, I'll see you later," he winked at them. Or at least they thought it was a wink, it looked more like a spasm. The two of them walked to the biology classroom together, Damon explaining how Virgil should just lay low and not cause trouble when it comes to Ms. Watson, or she'll blame you for third-degree murder. Virgil wasn't really sure if that was an exaggeration.

The classroom was a mess. Not in a literal sense, the class itself was pretty clean, but people were sitting and laying on tables, some we carving something into the chairs, other's sticking gum to the tables. Only one of the students waited by the door. Oliver, he was told. He watches for when the teacher comes. Speaking of the teacher, Oliver had turned away from the hallway and to his classmates, "She's coming! The fury is coming!"

Immediately, all the pupils were in their seats, no gum being chewed, no chairs being carved. They were all quiet when the teacher came in. She didn't say a word, closing the door after her and going straight to the attendance book. She furrowed her eyebrows after scanning down the page for a while.

"Virgil Blake?"

Virgil stood up, all of the eyes burning into him.

"You're new?" she raised an eyebrow.

Virgil nodded.

She closed the book, nodding slowly, "Do you have all the textbooks?"

Virgil nodded again.

She turned to the blackboard, "So, last week we talked about the cell structure of fungi. Today's lesson we will be..."

Virgil had sat down by that point, trying to focus on the lecture. That plan fell short as something hit the back of his neck, ending up in the hood of his hoodie. He reached behind, looking at the folded paper. He quietly tried to unwrap it, Damon already gaping at it before he even unwrapped it.

It was a drawing, a bad one at that. There was a cow with a plaid skirt and a black denim vest with a popped collar, similar to what Damon wore. There were also yellow circles scribbled over each other, which Virgil assumed was his hair. On the side was written 'COW' in capital letters. Virgil looked at Damon, who had pulled back to his chair and crossed his arms, looking at the floor next to him. Virgil quickly crunched up the paper and put it in his binder, the first thing he could think of to get it out of sight. Then he took a pen in his hand and began to write on his hand, eventually tapping Damon's shoulder and showing him the arm: 'I think you look really cool :)'

Damon chuckled sadly, looking up at Virgil, who smiled back. Damon put a hand to his lips and then away, mimicking the sign Virgil had taught him.

The heartfelt moment was interrupted by the deafening school bell, announcing the lesson was over, "Alright ya' little punks, the lesson is over, get ya' asses outta my classroom."

"Don't have to say that twice," Damon mumbled so quietly that even Virgil had to strain his ears to hear it. He had to resist the urge to burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of the day went as normal as it could, the three of them meeting in the hallway in-between lessons. Finally, the last bell rang and most of the class scrambled for the exit, including Patton and Virgil, who crashed into each other.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see ya there," Patton smiled up at Virgil, who had put his hands into a defensive manner and smiled tensely. Before Patton could say anything, Virgil was already being dragged away by Remus, who rembled about how they're gonna be there second and what not.

"Seriously, Roman is a fucking fast walker, we better hurry the fuck up," Damon had now joined the club, being dagged by Remus out of the building before any of them could protest.

"Oh, Virgil, here you are!" the three looked at the cheery voice, Remus not bothering to stop, so Virgil had to forcefully grab Remus by the back of his leather jacket, ultimately stopping him. His uncle, Emile, looked tensely between the three, "Already making friends I see?" Virgil nodded. He let go of Remus in favour of signing something that was beyond Damon's and Remus' knowledge, but Mr. Picani seemed to understand perfectly, "Why of course, just let me know if you need me to pick you up."

Virgil rolled his eyes and signed something shorter but still complicated. Mr. Picani seemed to tense up, "Are you sure?" he glanced between the two of them, then turned back to Virgil and spoke back, this time using sigh language. Virgil scoffed, signing back in a snappy manner, but then his expression relaxed. Mr. Picani nodded, "Alright then, I trust you. Just be sure to call me if you decide to stay the night," he hugged Virgil, who tried to scramble back and away from his uncle. Finally, Picani pulled back and Virgil stumbled a few steps back. Remus couldn't hold back a giggle. Virgil glared at him in exchange, signing something to Mr. Picani before he went to his car.

The three continued walking to Remus' house, which was not far from the school. Virgil noticed the chimney had smoke in it, smelling sweet. Remus reached under the welcome mat and pulled out a key, unlocking the door, "Ma, I'm home!"

"Hey, Remus, could you be an absolute sweetheart and go to the basement for more flour?" a short plum woman peeked out from the kitchen, "Hey Damon!"

"Hey, Ms. Addington."

Ms. Addington looked over at the other boy, "And who are you?" she smiled in a sweet way that makes teeth rot.

"That's Virgil," Damon gestured to him.

"Nice to meet you, are you new here?"

"He can't speak."

"Oh, my apologies then," she still smiled at him. She reminded him of uncle Emile in a way. She had this calm, cheerful atmosphere around her, he was sure they would get along well.

"Bad news, no flour to be found," Remus came out of the basement.

"Ah, fucking shit, what did I make all this shit for then?" she gestured at something on the counter that Virgil couldn't see. Wow, they would definitely not get along. For fuck's sake, uncle Emile had a swear jar.

"The hell do I know, you always try to be innovative," Remus answered, clearly unphased. He moved over to the living room, opening the tv stand where a bunch of DVDs were stacked on each other, "Alrighty, ladies, the selection for this movie night is: Nightmare on the elm street, The Black Cauldron, The Purge 2 ooooor," he reached into the back, "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre."

Damon plopped down onto the couch, "Purge 2, a classic."

Virgil was sitting on the other side, nodding his head in agreement.

Remus opened the DVD player, "Chainsaw massacre it is then,"

"Hell no! We watched that last time and I fucking threw up! I am not doing that again!" Damon seemed livid, and Virgil kicked Remus in the back to state his disagreement.

"Fine, fine, Purge 2, but first, popcorn," Remus got up and went to the kitchen, then Damon walked upstairs to get blankets. So Vigil waited, looking over the DVD collection they had. There were all kinds of movies, from Sleeping Beauty to The Godfather, it really was quite a lot. Virgil heard the door open, looking at the figures stepping in.

"And then I was like, 'You really are', and then she-Hey, what the hell are you doing here?!" Roman looked panicked for a brief second before Remus ran into the living room loudly announcing that the popcorn is done, and Damon went down with 3 tons worth of blankets on his back. They had all settled down on the couch, Remus laying across both of their laps with his face in his hands.

"We're watching The Puuuurge tonight!" he said in a sing-songy voice.

Roman scoffed, "No, we're not! We're watching Lion King!"

"Mom! Roman is trying to establish dominance over the DVDs again!"

A quiet sigh could be heard from the kitchen, "For the last time, Remus, I don't even know what that means. Roman, Remus was here first, and you already had a movie night yesterday, let him have it."

Virgil never thought he would see someone look so betrayed, "But-" Ms. Addington walked into the living room, tsk-ing Roman.

"You forced us to watch Bambi three movie nights in a row, we're going to watch The Purge. You and your friends can go upstairs like Remus did if you don't like it," she waved stirring spoon in front of his face like a knife.

Finally, Roman gave in, as he sat down onto the floor and crossed his arms and legs. Logan did too, but Patton said he'd rather not watch it and went home.

It was about halfway through the movie that Roman went to his room because he was tired. Then, Ms. Addington, Natalie, as Virgil had learned, fell asleep in her chair. Next was Logan to go, who got too tired from analyzing all the inconsistencies and bickering with Remus. Now, it was only the three that remained, Remus usually shouting words of encouragement for the killers or telling the other two better and more effective methods of killing someone. He was splayed over Damons and Virgil's legs, lying on his stomach. He eventually went out too, snoring slightly and drooling on Virgil's pants, which he found both disgusting and incredibly funny. Damon and Virgil sat in silence, eating what was left of the popcorn. Damon didn't last until the credits. He didn't get to see that the main character didn't actually kill the guy he was after, which Virgil thought was a shame. So there he was, surrounded by a pile of sleeping bodies and it was getting close to midnight. He tried to reach for his phone, but as it was in his back pocket, it was no use. He finally fell asleep at 1 am, shortly after Damon shifted in his sleep and collapsed against him, leaving Virgil with no chance to move.

[whats-the-story-tc]

26th-28th of April, 2020

"The Ones with the Series of Unfortunate Events"

[LONG AS FUCK SORRY]

After what happened on Saturday, I could barely fall asleep at night. I had a splitting headache from all the crying and genuinely felt like shit. Morning came, and I immediately reached for my phone. Nothing from her. It still being quite early, I tried to go back to sleep, and spent a full hour tossing and turning, a head full of thoughts, until I couldn't take it anymore. I turned my phone on and checked the notification bar, only to see a very familiar name and face.

I submitted my essay to her already, way before it was due, so when she actually assigned it in Google Classroom, I just pressed 'Mark as done' and thought I was good to go. V has obviously seen it (two links here). And, even though I didn't submit jackshit this time, she still felt the need to send me a "Thank you :)". I was overjoyed. FINALLY. So, as I explained here already, I had an impulse thought and decided to respond. "And thank YOU for the "task". I had a lot of fun with it. (I mean, the [poet's name] one.) If you're ever curious about anything of this sort, don't keep it to yourself :)" Of course, I regretted it as soon as I sent it. And, of course, I knew I wouldn't get an answer.

I promptly took a full day of rest after that, like I was trying to recover from a bad break-up. I didn't expect to hear from her again the next day.

Monday morning. New notification. Same old love of my life. She assigned us a project we'd already spoken about last week — to reinterpret a monologue from the play I read, the one V really likes, in any shape or form. Painting, video, prose, or, to quote V: "tiktok (not that I know how that works, but it's your choice)". She also said that she wants to keep what we make, maybe even share them with our Geo/Art teacher. I got even mote excited than when she first announced this. I knew I wanted to draw something, to show her a side of me she'd never seen before. I'm starting it on Friday. Doing a bit of painting, too. Wish me luck.

At around 2 PM that same day, Pocketwatch Friend noticed V's reply to her essay and asked me how she should respond to her. Found it quite funny, not gonna lie, knowing my history with replies. And as my friends told me about the responses they got, I realised a fundamental difference. All of them were skimmed over going into detail. They noted them fine, but didn't take the time to explain why they were noteworthy. So basically, they lacked content. Meanwhile the only things she spent paragraphs pointing out about my essay were miniscule stylistic mistakes. This gave me a fair bit of reassurance about what I do. I did enough. I was enough.

Come Tuesday, I was a nervous wreck to say the least. I always am, when it comes to online classes, but especially so when I have class with V. I walked up-and-down in the room, listening to her talk, not daring to say a word. God, I wish I kept to that.

Before I get to the part where y'all laugh at my misery, a teensy bit of prelude. Here I mentioned that the first time I had spoken to V after class, the 11th of October, 2018, we spoke about Hamlet. In short, I was a bit oblivious, and didn't really know how to recognise the Oedipus complex I've seen associated with the play. We were covering the story of Oedipus anyway, so I trotted up to her after class to talk. I remember the afternoon Sun shining really bright that day, and V being very relaxed and fully in her element as she spoke, leaning against my desk (that I wasn't sitting at by then). I went home smiling, unable to get her out of my head after that. It should've been clear from that day.

Now, on to class. There were a lot of good bits, a lot of interesting bits... but I don't want to talk about those now.

Last ten minutes, V asks if there are any questions. "I might just have one." I said, and immediately regretted it, even though I could hear the smile in V's voice as she said "Off you go". Theatre/Literature buffs, I'm sure you'll know the line "Frailty, thy name is woman!" from, you guessed it, Hamlet. Now, in the poem we were talking about, there was a line with the exact same structure, only with different words in the place of frailty and woman. I tried to twist it and see if V made that same association, but luck didn't favour me that day. V had no last clue what I meant when I said the quote was familiar. I tried to explain it to the best of my abilities, though I didn't remember the exact Hamlet quote. Neither did V. "I don't really know Hamlet by heart." "Neither do I!" I tried to counter, but just made it more awkward. Bless her soul, V googled it there and then, but just by me saying it was said to Gertrude, it brought up another play with another Gertrude — coincidentally, the one V stroke up a conversation about with me on the very last day of actual school. Those being the results made V laugh, so at least that's a win from my part. I ended up looking it up myself, trying to remember the quote, and ended up answering my own damn question. "So it was the grammatical structure, then?" V asked, with that very same peace in her voice as last year, and I excitedly replied "Yes!". Conversation over. And even though she genuinely sounded interested, I hated myself for bringing up a totally unnecessary thing. Though I hope that I made V "pull [Hamlet] off the top shelf" after class, as she said she might, were it not for me finding the answer.

I was already feeling horrible. Then, V brought up the assignments mentioned earlier and sounded really excited about it, starting to list what she imagined us doing. "A rewrite of the scene in the play..." and as she was saying my name, I grinned and asked her "Was this an indirect reference?". I needed no further convincing that she, indeed, read what I texted her. But here comes the part I laugh at now, but right then it was horrible. She actually chuckled at my teasing question, and God I wish I remembered what she said. Then I said: "I was actually planning on something else, but..." because I found it an interesting idea, and I have been meaning to do that, too. And that's where it got awkward. V, the usually unfaltering and confident V, was startled. Proper startled that she might have accidentally changed my mind. She started saying "oh, no, I didn't mean it like that, I was just trying to predict things..." and that made me worried, so after the oh no, I immediately started rambling "no, no, of course, I know what you meant, I understand". So there we were, talking over each other, both of us a nervous mess that we may have said something wrong we didn't mean. Right now, I find it absolutely hilarious, because how on Earth did we manage that?? But there and then?

I started crying. Silently, of course, not to worry her even further. (I didn't want to turn my mic off because I was scared it would malfunction again.) But I was so tense, that all my gasoline pool of nerves needed was this little spark of awkward, and it caught flame. I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, blaming myself for speaking and thinking I should've just shut up.

Soon after, V told us not to stress about the assignment, because "it's just homework". Everybody's favourite Cynical Twat, who is even worse at social situations than I am, tried to express he was glad to hear that, but did so in a very confusing and sarcastic way that V didn't really understand. "It would be pretty shitty of me" to make us stress, she said. So I dried my tears and jumped in, because she deserved to hear the compliment. "I don't mean to speak for [Cynical Twat], but I think he meant that we're all glad you said that. Not many people do it like that." I told her something along the lines of that. "Oh, okay." she said, disbelief thick in her voice. Hey, V. We bloody love you. It's time you start believing it.

Class ended soon after, and I spent about twenty minutes sobbing and cursing myself. The message from Pocketwatch Friend saying "I can't believe [V] replies to everything" as they were talking about her essay, only made it worse.

That night, I had a conversation with one of my underclassmen I talk to every once in a blue moon. We were discussing school and teachers, and I intentionally didn't bring up V. I waited for her to. Though, okay, I did provoke it a teensy bit, but just slightly. So, we talk about her, and through the things the girl says, I find out that... heh, of course, I'm not the only one she strikes up convos with. Turns out, after a joke, V even winked at her! (Okay, she did that to me once, too, when I stood up for her in class, but that's not the point.) After that, I was carrying the convo on just fine, but inwards, I was spiralling into a great big void of 'You ain't special to her, bitch, the fuck were you thinking'. The girl ended the conversation with "the woman's weird (...) but that's how we love her". Right. Yeah.

Now, two days later at current, I'm back in the room where all the crying went down. Bit surreal, thinking back. I'm sure I won't forget this for quite a while. Will my unlucky strike stop anytime soon? I don't know. We'll see. But I don't think anything could surprise me anymore.

You may take that as a challenge, V.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[prorevenge]

"You're gonna regret that winky emoji"

Buckle down, because if this was a rollercoaster it'd be the Tower of Terror. It's also very long, TLDR at the bottom, if you can find it..

Now, just as a little disclaimer, the person involved may not read reddit but her son very well might. So, I've changed names, places and specific details, and I'm not going to describe the person's appearance. I will however, be telling you of a revenge that started off petty in nature, has since had a pro outcome - and is still ongoing.

I'm a University student (f,19) in *Canada*, studying *history*. Since September, I've been struggling with both my physical and mental health. The problem with a free healthcare system is that sometimes there is long waiting lists for mental health services and despite being put on medication, my condition was worsening. I'd gone to a member of staff, who we shall call PC, to explain the situation. Initially, she was helpful, giving me extensions on assignments and special considerations for my exams. I passed the first semester with a whopping 62%, impressive given the fact I hadn't really been into any lectures.

After the Christmas break, my mental health was so bad that I ended up in hospital. I also struggled to get back into lectures as planned and submit much work. I was seeing the student support team the university had supplied, and the mental health team the hospital had provided. I have a personality disorder and sometimes find it hard to control my emotions, and PC is well aware of this. However, she is going -above and beyond- her normal duties and it's starting to get a little distressing. She'd offer to come to my GP appointments with me, constantly email me (3-4 separate email chains a day), and then got my personal phone number off the university system and started texting me. Being naive, I thought that having her phone number would be useful, as I check my texts significantly faster than my emails.

What. A bad. Idea.

What was confirming attendance for meetings quickly turned into "hope to see you soon", and asking how things in my personal life were going. The event that knocked me for six was when she turned up at my GP surgery after I had told her my appointment went badly. Luckily I was on the other side of town by this point, but she sent me a string of four texts starting with "I'm at the GP, where are you?" and ending in "I'm not going to nag you" before ringing me 3 times despite me hanging up IMMEDIATELY the first time.

(Side note at this point, she very obviously cares about me, but she's incredibly overbearing).

I had gone in for a routine procedure at the hospital to try and sort my physical health out (a cystoscopy, if you fancy a cringe), so she sent me a text asking how it had gone. I'd been put on the same antibiotics as I was before, and when I tried to explain to the consultant that I was already on them and that the pain hadn't stopped in months, I started getting a little angry and upset. Not enough to cause a scene - but enough for them to firmly tell me to leave. I explained this to PC and she replied with "stop arguing ;)". Now, given the nature of the procedure, the position of responsibility PC has and the fact it's coming from her personal phone number, I found this extremely inappropriate.

This kind of behaviour went on for a couple months, I'm trying to keep her at arms length - I still need her in terms of getting assignments in and stuff, but I don't want her reaching in to my personal life - but she keeps trying. She's told me repeatedly that I will have a "fit to work" procedure put in place due to the lack of assignments put in, which would decide my future at the university - and that the options would be getting suspended or getting expelled. This added a load of anxiety to my life and ultimately destroyed my mental health, so after a *not so helpful* session with the mental health team, I submitted the worst essay I've ever written with a sarcastic note at the bottom (still got 18%, success!). In hindsight, this was probably the worst way of trying to get back at her, as PC called me in for another meeting, but not before ringing my boss and my mental health consultant asking to attend my therapy sessions, and then telling me I'm "making it more than it needs to be".

This meeting was hell.

She started off by stroking my knee - not sensually, but wayyyy too close to be comfortable - which put my back up immediately.

She tried to get me to cancel the submission, which I wouldn't, and then told me I'm going to get her fired or reprimanded if I don't. (hello, emotional blackmail).

I repeatedly tried to explain I was struggling, and it's a case of mentally having to fight myself to get out of bed in the mornings, let alone research and write essays, do complex maths and attend 12 lectures a week. She kept shouting me down with things like "Just because you have a mental health condition doesn't mean you're special" and "it took me 3 years of intensive therapy to sort my head out, so you should be fine by August".

Eventually I was frustrated, sobbing and bent over, head to my knees in the chair. This cut off the circulation to my legs after 40 MINUTES of feeling trapped in her office, so when I finally got the courage to leave, I physically couldn't. I made it halfway across the room before stumbling. I didn't fall, I had hold of the table. PC shot up from her chair like she'd just won the lottery and HELD ME FROM BEHIND. I got out as quickly as I could. She later sent me a text (at 22:50) telling me that "it was really valuable".

Finally, the revenge;

I was so angry I decided I was going to come down on this woman like a ton of bricks. I spent 8 hours collating the year's emails and texts, annotating them all and putting them in a folder alongside evidence I was actively seeking medical help - a condition of the university for students who are ill. I affectionately called the folder The Brick, because if all else fails I'm going to hit her with it. This folder weighs at least 5kg, just to give you an idea of the amount of trees I had to kill for this. I submitted a complaints form for 3 separate issues (emails and texts/blackmail/physical contact), as well as a designated form for harassment. This would normally go to PC, but since I was complaining about her, I took it to THE DEAN. Phase 1 complete.

Phase 2 was the picking apart of her emails and making a case for mistreatment. The fit to work panel I attended (after 5 months of being told that it would happen), were going to expel me completely, until I whipped out The Brick and showed them 8 cases of unprofessionalism in ONE EMAIL. My "sentence" was reduced to only suspension, meaning I still have access to my uni email address, and student union services. Useful for phase 3.

Phase 3 is taking my case to the University Legal Team and holding this over the Dean's head until a satisfactory outcome is achieved, or I'll take it to court. I'll keep you updated.

And so, dear redditors, after successfully enacting phases 1 and 2, I can confirm PC has gone on 6 MONTHS of "sick leave". Let me tell you exactly why she's not on sick leave and has in fact been suspended - she was supposed to be on my fit to work panel, 3 DAYS after going on this sick leave; the whole department has been told not to contact her and if they have an urgent matter, they must send it to a different person through an online reporting system which will be "more closely monitored". We were also told that she would not be replying to emails because she's "ill", which made me laugh because she'd been wanting me to write 5000 word essays despite the fact I am genuinely ill. Given the nature of PC's role at the university (handling sensitive information, dealing with vulnerable students), this will be a major blemish on her record at the least, and could well cost her her job and prevent her from getting a new one in the same field. I have since left the university for health reasons, no doubtedly made worse by the actions of PC.

​

TLDR; tutor at the university harasses me in more ways than one, causes a severe decline in my mental health. I complain with 8 months of evidence and get her suspended/nearly fired, potential legal case pending.

(source) story by (/u/archercolne)

[wolfstarbaby]

a gentle hand, a secret touch on the heart

This fic was written with love for @flaggermousseart​ for @wolfstar-secret-santa​! Enjoy! :D

Title: a gentle hand, a secret touch on the heart

Author: wolfstarbaby (fuutenfantasy on AO3)

Pairing: Wolfstar

Rating: T

Length: 6202 words

Summary: 

“James, Peter and Sirius manage to land themselves in detention the night of the full moon. Remus will be fine! He's done moons by himself before. Everything will be fine. Totally. 

Sirius is full of emotions and James can tell something is amiss. Remus is also full of emotions but better at hiding things. Will things work out for these star-crossed idiots? Read on to find out!”

Link to AO3 HERE

Fic under readmore!

a gentle hand, a secret touch on the heart

Remus was waiting for his friends for three hours, half-reading an old History of Magic textbook and staring into the fire, before the Portrait Hole finally slammed open. Sirius came storming in first, followed by James, and Peter came scrabbling in last, still complaining at top volume.

“-and you know Tulip’s had it out for us from the start! Totally unfair, is what it is.”

“We know, Peter,” moaned James wearily. “You’ve been on about it for the past ten minutes. Just shut it.”

Sirius threw himself onto the couch next to Remus, his eyes narrowed and and his arms folded. Remus closed his book and eyed his friend.

“I take it things did not go according to plan?” he quipped. Sirius just grunted. James flopped onto a nearby armchair and Peter stretched out in front of the blazing fire, both arms over his head. The other Gryffindors on the floor in front of the fire had to scoot out of his way, pulling books and wands closer to them with half-hearted grumbles.

“Things went great!” said Peter, voice muffled. “For the first ten minutes, anyway. We had the ravens stowed and the birdseed scattered.”

“It was going to be magnificent!” James interrupted, waving his arms about. “A perfectly timed series of events that would lead to old Tulip being absolutely covered in birdshit! I had everything planned. But then...” he sighed, running a hand through his already wild hair. “It all fell apart.”

“How so?” Remus asked, trying and failing to conceal his smile.

After a dramatic pause, Peter took his arms off his face. “Tulip came in early.”

“We still could have gotten away with it,” James complained, sinking down into the overstuffed lap of the armchair, “if Padfoot hadn’t been busy using birdseed to spell WANKER on Tulip’s desk!”

Remus let out a snort and put down his book. “Did you really? That’s a bit much, even for you, Sirius.” He patted Sirius on the arm. Sirius glowered and made cranky noises, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“And from there he looked up and saw the ravens and it was all downhill.” Peter sighed and rolled over onto his stomach. “Yelled at us for two hours. I thought his heart was going to burst, the way his veins were pulsing.”

“Glad I gave this one a pass, then.” Remus rubbed his shoulder, grimacing. “Not by choice, mind you, but I suppose it worked out. Did you get away with just a bollocking or do you hooligans have detention now, too?”

“We all have four hours of detention,” muttered Sirius. He turned to look at Remus. “Saturday night, starting at 8.”

Remus felt his stomach drop. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Moony!” James leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “We argued with Tulip for ages but he wouldn’t budge, and it’s not like we could tell him why.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Remus automatically. “I’ve done plenty of moons without you lot before, I’ll survive this one too.” He stood up abruptly, stretching with some difficulty. “Let’s go to supper, I’m famished.”

The evening passed as many do at Hogwarts. Sirius came out of his funk by dessert and soon all the boys were laughing and bantering like normal, but Remus noticed that every time he winced at a pre-lunar ache Sirius glanced over, worried. They took their usual spots around the huge scarred wooden table in the common room and muttered over some homework, making more jokes than progress on their Transfiguration essays.

“I just don’t understand how we’re meant to explain a process we’ve never seen before!” Peter complained, scratching his forehead with his quill and leaving a streaky black line in its wake. “ ‘Explain in fine detail the technical process of turning a chicken into a cow, paying special attention to where the additional mass comes from.’ What does she want us to do with this?”

Remus, already halfway through with his outline, just chuckled. “It’s in the book, Peter. You have to read.”

“Sounds like too much work,” said James, closing his book with a decisive thump. “Right, lads. How’s my hair?”

Sirius ruffled it playfully, messing it up even more. “Now it’s perfect. Go get her, Prongsie.”

James eyed his target, squared his shoulders, and stood. “Wish me luck.”

He sauntered across the common room so he could attempt to flirt with Lily - by which he meant leaning on the back of her chair and joining whatever conversation she was a part of with loud commentary and inappropriate humor. This was met with eye rolling, ignoring, and the occasional artfully dodged hex. Eventually Peter went for a shower before bed and it was just Sirius and Remus at the table, sitting in a comfortable silence, the pretense of working long since given up.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself this Saturday?” Sirius asked softly. “I could skip detention and Padfoot could be there at least.”

Remus’s heart clenched. “Don’t skip out, Tulip will lose his mind and you’ll be in even worse trouble. I’ll be fine, I promise.” He smiled, fairly convincingly. “Come on, let’s rescue Lily from Prongs and head upstairs.”

Together they hauled James away from Lily and her friends, dragging him up the stairs by his elbows, and Remus tried his best not to notice every time he bumped into Sirius on the narrow staircase. He climbed into bed after a round of “good nights” and only when the curtains whisper shut around him did he allow himself the luxury of basking in the idea that Sirius’s concern meant anything more than platonic worry. He fell asleep imagining a world that could not be - a world with Sirius stroking his hair and whispering sweet words meant for him and him alone, chasing away the lingering curse of the moon with his quiet warmth.

~~~

Remus had been quietly pining for his best friend for what seemed like forever, but for what was realistically about two years. Before Hogwarts he’d kept to himself out of both necessity and choice - growing up on an isolated farm and being bitten by a werewolf are both life challenges that keep you from making many friends. It wasn’t until about halfway through his second year that Remus began to realize that he wasn’t interested in his female classmates the way the other boys were, and not until his third year that his heart was captured by Sirius.

It wasn’t anything dramatic or complicated - in fact, it was the simplest thing of all. It was, as most things were in Remus’s life, centered around the full moon. A rough transformation in December of their third year had left Remus in the Hospital Wing for longer than usual - nearly a week. He spent the first two days of that awful week unconscious, and didn’t wake up until nearly midnight on that Wednesday. The first thing he saw when he opened his puffy eyes was long black hair strewn across the end of his bed. There, softly illuminated in the candlelight, was Sirius, head pillowed on his arms, fast asleep at the end of Remus’s bed. As if on cue, Sirius turned his head and smiled sleepily at Remus, and that was that for Remus’s heart.

But this realization was followed almost immediately by the knowledge, the deep, certain, bones-deep truth of the fact that he could never act upon his feelings. Not once, not ever. Sirius was assuredly heterosexual, and also one of the most important people in Remus’s life. He wasn’t going to put years of friendship in jeopardy over the simple vagaries of his heart. No, best to push these feelings way down deep and pretend they weren’t there.

This decision came in a split second, and Remus was able to return Sirius’s smile with one of his own - even if it was a little forced at the corners. He could live with that.

~~~

It was the day before the full moon, which means Remus woke up with full body aches and a head that felt like it was underwater. He buried his head under the pillow and tried to ignore the slow-roasting coals in his knees and shoulders. His stomach curled and twisted, though, and it wasn’t long before he was up and in the bathroom, viciously ejecting the remnants of his dinner the night before. His ears were ringing and his headache was splitting - all in all, normal pre-lunar symptoms. He thought about making is way down to the Hospital Wing, but the idea of submitting himself to the fluttering and worrying of Madame Pomfrey was almost more than he could bear - besides, it’s not like she could cure what was really wrong. He resolved to spend the day in bed and pretend like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

He heard the rest of the boys surface to consciousness and rise to face the day, but the velvet curtains around his bed and the mountain of pillows he’d sunk his head into muffled everything. He thought he heard his name once or twice.

“-Remus doing okay?”

“-probably not going to lessons today, poor chap.”

“-him alone. Moon’s tomorrow, you know how it is.”

There was a rustle and a change in the light against his eyelids, so Remus cracked one eye open to see Sirius, his dark hair swinging around his face as he peered through the curtains. He was so close to Remus that the ends of his hair brushed ever so slightly against the boy’s cheek. The sun, well and truly up by now, poured in behind Sirius, the golden streams illuminating him and giving him an unearthly sort of glow. The light got tangled in his hair and brought depth to the blackness, little pockets of richness and color that weren’t usually visible. His eyes were brown and so soft as he looked at Remus. Remus choked a little as his heart clenched almost painfully from the unexpected loveliness of this sight. It took him a minute to realize Sirius was talking to him.

“-anything, mate?”

“I - what?”

“I said, would you like us to bring you any breakfast? We’re heading down now.”

His stomach clenched again at the thought of food. “No thank you - I wouldn’t be able to keep it down, anyway.”

“Fair enough.” Sirius hesitated, then pushed a hand through the curtains and rested it on Remus’s hair, stroking it gently. Remus felt his whole body stiffen in reaction as his brain short-circuited. Quickly, as if embarrassed, Sirius pulled his head and arm back through the curtains, and the sunshine disappeared. “Get some rest, we’ll bring you what you miss in class.”

It wasn’t until the dormitory door closed with a soft clatter that Remus had the presence of mind to call out, “Thank you!”

Soon enough the dormitory was empty, and the air sat silent and still. Remus wanted to lie there and dwell on the unexpected moment of tenderness from Sirius that morning, but his body had other ideas and soon he was asleep again, his brain running from the pain as best it knew how. He spent the day in and out of consciousness, drifting along like a soap bubble. He was vaguely aware of the other boys coming and going, leaving books and parchment on his bedside table, and he managed to rouse himself enough to drink the mug of soup one of them brought for his lunch around noon.

The afternoon brought less drowsiness but more pain. His shoulder and hip joints, as if in preparation for the next day’s miseries, felt tense and twisted. A gentle heating charm cast on a pillow helped a little bit, but not a lot. Again the thought of the Hospital Wing crossed his mind, but at this point it would have hurt more to drag himself down there than to stay in bed.

Besides, he was used to pain.

He felt a weight settle at the end of his bed, and looked up to see the messy black hair and dorky glasses of James. His friend smiled easily and patted his leg.

“Hanging in there, Moony?”

Remus shrugged. “Day before the moon. You know how it is.”

James winced sympathetically. “Need anything?”

“A cure for lycanthropy?” Remus quipped.

James laughed. “I’ll get right on it. You take care.” He deposited an armload of parchment scrolls onto the teetering pile next to Remus’s bed and waved as he headed out the door again.

Remus knew they were all in their afternoon classes for the next few hours, so he was duly surprised when a half hour or so later Sirius showed up again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Potions?” Remus remarked, pushing himself to a sitting position.

Sirius shrugged and sat down. “Told Slughorn I needed to bring you your assignments.” He waved a hand at a notebook slung onto the floor. “Didn’t want you to fall behind, and all that.”

“And he just… let you go?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “Decent of him. Odd, but decent.”

“Not that odd.” Sirius smiled. “Everyone knows you’re his second favorite, after Lily. You’re a genius with a cauldron, as he says.”

They fell silent after that, Sirius fiddling with a wrinkle in the duvet and Remus watching his hand while trying to seem like he wasn’t. Finally, Sirius looked up.

“Look, mate, are you sure you don’t want me to skive off this detention tomorrow?

I hate the thought of you being up in the Shack alone.”

Remus sighed. “As much as I want to say yes, I’m going to say no. I don’t want you getting in more trouble because of me. It’s fine, Pads - I’ve been alone before.”

“I know,” said Sirius, “but you shouldn’t have to be.”

“I’ll be okay, Sirius, I promise.” And before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “but I love that you asked.” Immediately he felt his cheeks and ears turned crimson and hastily looked down, pretending to smooth out wrinkles in the duvet. He didn’t notice Sirius looking at him. Eventually Sirius stood to go back to class.

“We’ll bring you something from dinner if you don’t make it down,” he called over his shoulder as he left the dormitory. “Get some more sleep!”

As soon as the door closed Remus threw himself painfully backwards and covered his face with a pillow.

It wasn’t even that revealing of a comment! He told himself. God, what a state I’m in, mention the word ‘love’ once and I act like an idiot.

Somewhere in between the self-admonishment and the lingering moon-pain, he did fall asleep again. He woke up once more to the sound of James and Peter bring him a plate from the Great Hall - beef, yorkshire pudding, carrots, and a slice of Black Forest Gateau, if his wolf-sensitive nose was correct. They were talking softly as they approached, so as to not wake him up.

“-acting weird all day.”

“I know, Pete, but you know he’s always weird where Remus is concerned.”

“I wish he’d sort his feelings out, this pining is exhausting to watch.”

Still lying down and in a sleep-fever haze, Remus kept very still and hastily closed his eyes when James pulled aside the curtain to peek in. The curtain twitched closed again and the soft conversation resumed.

“I swear, James, he doesn’t even know what’s going on inside his own head. He won’t admit it to himself.”

“Did you see his face when Remus tripped into his lap last weekend by the lake? I thought he was going to produce steam, his face was so red.”

“He’s an idiot, Prongs. He needs our help.”

“You’re right, Pete - they’ll never sort it out for themselves.”

Remus waited until they had both left the room before getting the dinner plate. The wolf was getting stronger, and he was ravenous. He puzzled over what he’d just heard and the implications therein. He knew what he wanted it to mean, but he couldn’t risk the danger of hope, no matter how much he wanted to believe. He devoured the dinner plate and, lacking anything else to do, pulled over some of the work from Charms and began to read. O.W.L.s were this year, and Remus would be damned if he let something as stupid as lycanthropy keep him from scoring well.

~~~

Saturday morning. Moonrise due at 2 pm.

The achiness had left Remus’s joints, but he was left with a horrid combination of exhaustion and nervous energy. He wanted to be moving around, itching to do something, but the weariness enveloping his whole being kept him from doing very much at all. He settled for sitting on the edge of his bed, twisting the blanket in his fingers and swinging his feet, just…….. Waiting.

He eyed the others. James was flat on his back, curtains wide open, snoring with his mouth askew. Peter was an indistinguishable lump underneath his blanket. But Sirius - Sirius was propped up on one elbow and watching him, face expressionless. When he noticed Remus staring at him, he quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“The waiting is hard, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

Remus shrugged. “Not as hard as some things, but… yes. The anticipation. I feel like I’m going to crack in half from the tension of it all.”

His hands kept working at the fabric of the blanket, bunching it up, smoothing it out, fidgeting with the wrinkles, pulling at loose threads. He stared down at them, as if they belonged to someone else. He felt disconnected from his own body, like he existed slightly above and to the left of everything around him. Those hands, in a few short hours, would twist and crack and bend and stretch, forming paws coated in coarse brown fur and tipped with wicked black claws. Those hands would tear at the walls of the Shrieking Shack, batter and beat at the remaining furniture until it was splinters. These nails would rend his own flesh, bringing blood and bruises and pain. These hands were capable of such damage. It was astonishing they ever produced anything of worth at all.

“Stop that, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

It wasn’t until Sirius’s smooth hands closed around his own that he realized how tightly he’d been gripping the blanket. He blinked, and relaxed his fingers. The muscles were sore, having been clenched up so tightly. He looked up - Sirius was on his knees, both hands wrapped around his own, lips slightly parted, his eyes filled with something… indescribable. Remus could feel the dry warmth of Sirius’s palms radiating into his knuckles, soothing them. He leaned forward a little almost without thinking, and now he realized he could smell Sirius - the scent of sleep, of laundry soap and clove and the faintest tinge of cigarettes. It was drowning his senses, the smell of him, the feel of him, everything. He was falling into Sirius’s eyes, surrounded by their gentle brown. Falling. Drowning. Rising up.

Somehow he came back to himself before he did anything stupid, like finish leaning forward and kissing the boy in front of him. Remus gently pulled his hands out of Sirius’s grasp and sat back. When he did, he saw the slightest hint of pain flash across Sirius’s face before the other boy stood up, hands jammed into his pockets. Remus grimaced inwardly and stood, trying not to look Sirius in the eye.

“I’d better head down to Pomfrey, it’s nearly time.” It wasn’t, and they both knew it, but Remus had to get out of that room before the tension knocked him sideways. Sirius nodded silently and moved aside to let him pass. As Remus went out the door, Sirius opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but changed his mind and shook his head. The door closed between them with a soft ‘click’.

~~~

Remus sat on the splintered bed in the Shrieking Shack and waited for the change to come over him. Sunlight streamed in the high-up window, sluicing through the dust in the air.

It always snuck up on him, like a train through the fog. By the time you noticed the rumbling and the noise, it was almost upon you.

He shuddered. He jerked. He twisted. He Changed. His nose sampled the air, searching for the smells that meant Friends, Safety, Fun, Comfort. He couldn’t find them! Where were they?

Out came teeth and claws.

~~~

A huge mountain of assorted birdseed was piled in the middle of the table. James, Sirius and Peter sat around it, armed with tweezers and an assortment of bowls. They surveyed their task.

“So let me get this straight. We have to sort this,” Peter pointed at the mountain with his tweezers, “into these bowls.” Another point.

James shook his head. “Tulip’s a clever bastard, I’ll give him that. This will take us all night.”

Sirius said nothing, just eyed the task before them with displeasure. After a moment’s silence, he sat with a heavy sigh and picked up a piece of seed at random with his tongs. The other boys flopped down and followed suit.

The moon hung high in the sky, visible from the narrow window. It was brilliantly white against the black of the night sky. Sirius kept glancing up at it.

An hour passed, then two, in relative silence.

~~~

The splintered bed finally crashed to the floor after a determined paw swipe took out the last leg. The wolf howled, calling for its friends. When no response came, its fangs clamped around a foreleg in frustration, sending blood splattering across the wall.

~~~

A howl echoed up from the forest, causing all three boys to pause. Sirius abandoned his tweezers and got up, crossing to the window. He gazed out at the forest, fingers drumming a rhythm on the windowsill. Peter and James exchanged significant glances, and then James put down his tweezers.

“Padfoot?”

“What?” said Sirius, still looking out the window.

James rolled his eyes. “When are you going to pull your head out of your arse and tell Remus how you really feel?”

That got a reaction. Sirius stiffened and spun, hands clenched and eyes wide.

“I - I don’t - you mean -” he paused, forced himself to be still, and finished. “I don’t know what you’re on about, Prongs.”

“We’re not stupid, mate,” chimed in Peter. “You’ve been pining over him for at least a year. Him being alone tonight has you wound tighter than a paranoid doxy.”

“You goggle at him when he’s not looking,” added James. “You find every excuse to touch him. And the way your eyes look when he’s smiling at you…” he shook his head. “Sirius, did you think we would hate you if you told us?”

A pause, then Sirius sank into a chair and rested his face in his hands. “Am I that obvious?” His voice was muffled by his palms.

“Yes,” said Peter and James in unison. Sirius groaned.

“Does Remus know?” Sirius asked, still covering his face.

“No idea. “James shrugged, picking up his tweezers again. “But you should go find out.”

Sirius turned to look at James. “What, now? But we’re-”

“Go on.” James reached into his robes and threw the Invisibility Cloak at Sirius, nearly knocking him out of his chair when it hit him in the face. “We’ll finish up here.”

“We will?” Peter asked, then jumped and rubbed his shin where James had kicked it. “I mean, yeah, we will. Go get him, Pads.”

Sirius thought about it, and finally stood to cover himself in the Cloak. “I… thank you for not hating me,” came from the air where he’d been standing. James just chuckled.

“You’ll have to do a lot worse than fall in love to get us to hate you. Now go!” The door opened by an invisible hand. “And don’t come back to the Tower until you’ve told him how you feel!” James called after his escaping friend. He turned back to the tower of birdseed and sighed.

“Shall we?” Peter grumbled.

~~~

The wolf curled up in the center of the room, panting. Wood splinters and strips of wallpaper littered the floor, along with slapdash specks of blood and tufts of fur. It was Sad. Confused. Angry.

Its ears twitched as a distant patter came ever closer up the tunnel, and a familiar scent wafted its way into the room as the trapdoor flapped open. The wolf lifted its head.

Friend? Here? Friend! It bounced to its feet, disregarding the myriad cuts and bruises all over its body, and ran over to the large black dog makings its way into the room. The black dog sniffed it all over, whimpering at the blood.

The wolf didn’t care about its pain - now its friend was here, and all was well.

~~~

The weak morning sunlight slanted past the curtains, and Remus cracked an unwilling eye to the world. Just like every morning-after, he took a general inventory of his body - ankle definitely twisted and maybe sprained, deep cuts across the left thigh, bruised ribs, scratches everywhere… he touched a hand to his nose and winced. Definitely broken. He pushed himself to a sitting position, moving slowly so as to not jostle his injuries more than necessary. The thin blanket kept in the Shack fell away from his chest as he sat up, and fell onto Padfoot’s sleeping body. He’d apparently curled up next to Remus to keep him warm during the night.

Just thinking about warmth made Remus realize how cold it was in the room, especially since he was decidedly unclothed. He looked around for where he usually left his clothes, and saw only a pile of shredded cloth. He grimaced - last night had been pretty terrible, it seemed. He shivered, and it was this movement that woke Padfoot up. The dog opened it eyes, cocked its head, and then in a complex and brain-twisting series of movements turned into Sirius sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Morning, Moons,” he whispered. Remus tried to smile, but the dried blood on his face had stiffened the skin too much. He reached one hand up to wipe it away, but gave up after a few halfhearted swipes. Sirius got to his knees.

“Here, let me.” He took the edge of his jumper and gently wiped Remus’s face, working off the worst of the blood. Once finished, he took the blanket and wrapped it around Remus, then stood up. He went to the trapdoor, rummaged around for a second, and returned with a bag.

“Don’t worry, I came prepared.” Out of the bag he drew a sweater and a pair of soft pants, as well a thermos and his wand. “I was a bit in a hurry, but managed to grab a few things.” He tossed the clothes at Remus and turned his back in a semblance of privacy.

“I’m surprised you came at all,” croaked Remus as he pulled on the sweater and pants. “Weren’t you supposed to be in detention?”

“Prongs and Wormtail covered for me.” Sirius turned back around, the thermos in his hands now full of steaming liquid. He poured some into a cup and gave it to Remus. “Hot chocolate. Drink up.”

Remus took a tentative sip - it was delicious, and not too hot. It was smooth and rich and filled his aching mouth with warmth and sweetness. He drank the hot chocolate slowly as Sirius gathered his shredded clothes into a pile. When that was done, he dropped onto the floor next to Remus and looked him over, eyes moving slowly up and down Remus’s body. Remus flushed, hoping the bruises on his face would cover any redness. Sirius reached out a gentle hand and held it over Remus’s injured ankle, not quite touching it.

“This must smart, yeah?”

Remus nodded, avoiding eye contact. He felt the tap of a wand on his ankle, and with a warm squishing sensation the swollen tissue receded somewhat and the pain died down. It still hurt, but nowhere near as bad. Sirius pushed up Remus’s pants leg, tapping the deep cuts on his thigh with his wand to close them up. The warm hand on his bare thigh was doing strange things to Remus’s brain, and he gripped the now-empty cup of hot chocolate so tightly it almost broke. Another gentle tap to his broken nose twitched it somewhat back into place. Remus finally looked up, and saw Sirius less than six inches away from his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. Remus stared - he couldn’t help it. There was a fine spray of freckles, so light you usually couldn’t see them, across the bridge of Sirius’s nose. He found himself focusing on those freckles, wondering what it would be like to kiss each one. He leaned forward unconsciously, closing the distance to four inches. Then three.

“Remus, I…” Sirius closed his eyes briefly. “I need to…”

But what he needed was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps in the tunnel. The boys sprang apart, Sirius throwing the Invisibility Cloak on just in time for Madame Pomfrey to throw open the trapdoor. Remus managed to send the thermos and cup over to the concealed Sirius in a panicked slide before Madame Pomfrey had climbed all the way into the room. She did her usual clucking and fussing over Remus, practically pouring two bottles of potion down his neck to speed up the healing process. If she thought the clothes were unusual, she was kind enough not to say anything.

They made their way back to the Hospital Wing, where Remus spent the day sleeping in a curtained-off bed. When he woke up for the third time some time around 3 pm, his ribs felt better and the other Marauders were clustered around his bed. James was the first one to notice he was awake, and grinned broadly.

“Cheers, Moo- er, Remus,” he said with a sideways glance at Pomfrey three beds away. “Welcome back to reality.”

Remus grinned weakly. “How was detention?”

Peter pulled a disgusted face. “It was awful!” And he launched into the story of Tulip’s detention. Remus half-listened, laughing or exclaiming in the right places, as his mind wandered. He kept thinking about this morning, about what he’d almost done.

He’d almost kissed Sirius, right there in the Shrieking Shack. And he was pretty certain that Sirius had wanted him to.

He chanced a glance at Sirius, who was sitting on the edge of the bed half-smiling at some pivotal moment in Peter’s story. He glanced over and made accidental eye contact with Remus, blushed, and looked away.

The blush was interesting and worth looking into, Remus thought. All at once he threw caution to the winds and made a decision.

“Madame Pomfrey?” he called. The matron made her way over to them, giving the Marauders a dirty look and a wide berth.

“Yes, dear?” she asked, patting him on the shoulder.

“Can I finish resting up in my dormitory?”

“Of course, dear. But come back down if you need anything.” He nodded, and she walked away. The other boys seemed a little surprised. Remus sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Pads, will you help me back to Gryffindor Tower?” Sirius’s head shot up and he looked at Remus warily, but nodded. Remus stood and only wobbled a little bit, which he counted as a victory.

“I’ll see you lads later, then.” This to James and Peter. James immediately grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Right, we’re off to the library. See you at dinner!” He hauled a protesting Peter away in the direction of the library. Remus smiled inwardly. James always was quick on the uptake.

Remus and Sirius made their way slowly back to Gryffindor Tower. It hadn’t been a ruse - Remus genuinely needed help, especially on the stairs. He found himself leaning on Sirius more often than was strictly necessary, though - and each time he saw the blush and felt the nervousness. But by the time they were climbing through the Portrait Hole, Remus was almost spent. The Common Room was nearly empty, thankfully - most people were spending this cold but sunny Sunday afternoon outside or somewhere on the grounds, with only one or two zealous fifth years seated and studying at the tables. No one bothered them as they climbed the stairs to the fifth-year dormitory.

Sirius helped Remus climb into bed, and stood there awkwardly as Remus arranged the blankets and pillows around himself. When he was finished, Remus looked up at Sirius.

“Sit with me?” he asked, softly. “Please?”

Sirius sat on the bed, legs tucked up underneath him. He stared down at his hands, fiddling with the fabric of his pants.

Remus took a deep breath. “Sirius…”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Sirius burst out. “I shouldn’t have… I almost… I didn’t mean to…” he sighed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Remus just blinked a few times. “...what?” he finally managed to ask.

Sirius balled up handfuls of the blanket beneath him, his knuckles white with the tension. He still wouldn’t look a Remus. “I… I almost kissed you earlier, in the Shack. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” He blinked several times. “All of my feelings just came rising up and spilling out and I couldn’t control myself, Remus, you were right there, right beneath my hands and so close to my face, and I could see your eyes, and the way the light was hitting you, and God, I just…” he scrubbed one hand over his face almost angrily and took several deep breaths. “I just don’t want this to ruin us. Ruin our friendship. Because so help me God keeping you in my life is more important than any stupid emotions I might be feeling.”

He fell silent, still breathing hard. Remus’s mind was reeling. He gathered himself together enough to reach out and touch Sirius’s wrist. The other boy jerked under his touch and turned to face Remus, brown eyes overbright with tears. Remus closed his hand around Sirius’s wrist.

“Pads, are you telling me you fancy me?” Sirius closed his eyes and nodded, just once. A wave of excitement and relief washed over Remus, and for the second time in an hour he threw caution - and himself - to the winds. He pulled Sirius by the wrist towards himself, caught the other boy’s face in his free hand, and kissed him.

The kiss, as kisses went, was too new and enthusiastic to be much good. It was all angles and teeth and repositioning, but it was honest and right and full of the feelings neither had been able to express. Sirius’s lips were warm and a little chapped, and they felt like perfection. They felt like comfort, safety, and home.

Sirius eventually leaned back, cheeks flushed. “I… wow, Moony, I just…” he ran a hand through his hair. “How long?”

Remus reached out a hand to run it through Sirius’s hair as well. “About a year and a half. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He wound strands of black hair around his fingers, carefully working out any small tangles he encountered. Sirius leaned into the touch. “How about you?”

“About a year,” Sirius replied, with a soft smile. “We’re right idiots for waiting so long, I suppose.”

“Something like that.” Remus was overtaken by a yawn so large his jaw cracked. “I really should get some more rest if I’m going to be in any sort of shape to go to lessons tomorrow.” He leaned back on his pillow, letting his hand fall from Sirius’s hair. Sirius picked up the hand where it lay and held it in both of his.

“Would you like me to stay?” Remus intertwined his fingers with Sirius’s.

“No, you go down to dinner and bring me something back.” He pulled Sirius’s hand to his mouth and kissed it, delighting in the sheer overwhelming fact that he could. “We should talk more when you get back. About - well, all of this.”

Sirius stood up. “What should I tell the others? James and Pete, I mean.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They already know… some of it. My side of it, anyway. Practically threw me out of detention by my collar to go to you.”

Remus made himself comfortable in the blankets and pillows. “Tell them I swept you off your feet. Make me sound romantic.” Exhaustion was coming back over him in waves. Sirius leaned over, tilted his chin up with one finger, and kissed him again. This kiss was less urgent and more languid, sweeter, gentler. When he stood up again Remus’s head was swimming.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered. Sirius kissed Remus once more and made his way out of the dormitory, closing the door very gently behind him.

Remus slid into sleep and into dreams that welcomed him with open arms. Dreams of a person who saw his heart and held it, warm in their hands. Dreams of Sirius. Dreams of love.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT EXPENSES

That might be ok if there were other sources of capital for new companies. But it could. He bought a suit. Shows will change even more. For example, I'd tell myself I was only going to use the Internet twice a day. I could probably be smarter about dealing with html, the email being all uppercase is really conceptually one feature, not one for each word. Out in the real world, instead of releasing a software update immediately, they had to submit their code to an intermediary who sat on it for a month and then rejected it because it contained an icon they didn't like? But they're still dragging their heels. This is one of the things they're doing is breaking up and misspelling words to prevent filters from recognizing them. It does seem at least that if we find more than 15 tokens that only occur in one corpus or the other, we ought to reduce the rate at which new companies are founded.1 Now we have a way of picking a winner.

For tokens that occur only in the legitimate corpus.2 It's interesting Our two junior team members were enthusiastic.3 The world seemed cruel and boring, and I'm not sure which was worse. A bet with only a 10% chance of winning has to pay more than one founder, it seems a good bet, he's still at a disadvantage. 0 just because VCs are eager to invest again.4 And unless you already have enough funding, that reduces to: close them now. The guys that guys envy, girls like. 9999 To free 0. The upshot is, you have to be profitable to convey to investors that you'll succeed with or without them.5 It was from someone in Egypt and written in all uppercase. For example, correcting someone's grammar, or harping on minor mistakes in names or numbers. The real problem is the same no matter what they say in the body has a spam probability of Act is 98% and for act only 62%.

Now the default exit strategy is to get bought, and acquirers are less prone to irrational exuberance than IPO investors. Basically, I had to start treating us like actual consultants, and calling us every time they wanted something changed on their site. These seedlings are worth protecting, because they contain urls. This plan collapsed under its own weight. Or more precisely, he asked if we'd started YC mainly for fun. Problem number 3: investors are very random.6 They just need something to chase. To survive it you need a set of techniques mostly orthogonal to the ones people use for procrastinating in everyday life. Perhaps there's a rule here: perhaps you create wealth in proportion to the amount they invest.7 They do seem to expect an answer to the second. The angel investors who funded our startup let the founders have any money.8

But I did not till recently understand the role risk played. I don't always try as hard as this though. And your own living expenses are the milestone you feel most, because at that point the future flips state. But you can't solve the problem of overeating by stopping eating. It's an interesting illustration of an element of the startup ecosystem that few except the participants ever see: investors trying to convince him to invest in Airbnb. Another project I heard about this work I was a bit surprised. Thanks to Sarah Harlin, Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, Eric Raymond, and Jackie Weicker for reading drafts of this essay didn't work.

Notes

It's not the distribution of income, or some vague thing like that. Fifty years ago.

And no, unfortunately, I use the phrase the city, with number replaced by gender. Inside their heads, which shoppers used to reply that they either have a standard piece of casuistry for this point for me, rejection still rankles but I've come to you; who knows who you might be enough to supply the activation energy for enterprise software sold through traditional channels is very polite and b I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve the problem, any claim to the wealth they generate. High school isn't evil; it's random; but it seems. I'm not trying to deliver because otherwise you'd be surprised if VCs' tendency to push to being told that they can do is assemble components designed and manufactured by someone with a degree, to the decline in families eating together was due to recent increases in economic inequality was really only useful for one video stream.

Most smart high school kids at least on me; how can anything regressive be good.

There should probably fix. Investors are fine with funding nerds. I doubt he is at fault, since 95% of the political pressure to protect their hosts.

People who know the actual server in order to make money, buy beans in giant cans from discount stores.

Treating high school, and although convertible notes often have you read them as promising to invest, regardless of what investment means; like any investor, lest that set an impossibly high target when raising additional money. If Ron Conway had been raised religious and then using growth rate as evolutionary pressure is such a brutally simple word is that the main reason kids lie to them this way is basically a replacement mall for mallrats. What they forget is that parties shouldn't be too quick to reject candidates with skeletons in their spare time. And I'm sure for every startup we had to both write the sort of wealth, the more effort you expend on you after the fact that investment; in the early adopters.

He couldn't even afford a monitor. If you're sufficiently good at sniffing out any red flags about the topic.

Bad math is merely a complicated but pointless collection of qualities helps people make the people who had been a waste of time and Bob nominally had a broader meaning.

Thanks to Patrick Collison, Hutch Fishman, Harj Taggar, and Jessica Livingston for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[michaelkeenan]

tl;dr: this latest academic journal hoax is over-hyped and the reporting on it is terrible A trio of academics submitted 20 ridiculous papers to various feminist/gender/related-studies journals in an effort to show the journals to be ridiculous. 7 papers were accepted. The coverage has been gloating and the Twitter response has been gleeful. But the more I look into it, the less there is to it. This is troubling, because smart people like Paul Graham and Patrick Collison have retweeted about it. WSJ article

The Chronicle of Higher Education article

Google Drive link with all the papers and the review comments

Here's the trio's essay on it. At times, I think they're deliberately vague about which ridiculous papers were accepted and which weren't. Here's a paragraph of theirs:

We used other methods too, like, “I wonder if that ‘progressive stack’ in the news could be written into a paper that says white males in college shouldn’t be allowed to speak in class (or have their emails answered by the instructor), and, for good measure, be asked to sit in the floor in chains so they can ‘experience reparations.’” That was our “Progressive Stack” paper. The answer seems to be yes, and feminist philosophy titan Hypatia has been surprisingly warm to it. Another tough one for us was, “I wonder if they’d publish a feminist rewrite of a chapter from Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf.” The answer to that question also turns out to be “yes,” given that the feminist social work journal Affilia has just accepted it.

The parallel structure of the paragraph, with 'The answer to that question also turns out to be "yes"' elides the very different fates of the two papers. Hypatia didn't publish the Progressive Stack paper, and in fact they rejected it three times. But phrasing it this way, you can describe it in the same paragraph as an accepted paper, and many people won't remember the difference. (Here's a Harvard lecturer's thread, with 10,000 Twitter Likes, describing the Progressive Stack paper as accepted.)

The coverage has been even worse. Here's a Quillette piece on it, with a part that a Facebook friend quoted:

[Hypatia] invited resubmission of a paper arguing that “privileged students shouldn’t be allowed to speak in class at all and should just listen and learn in silence,” and that they would benefit from “experiential reparations” that include “sitting on the floor, wearing chains, or intentionally being spoken over.” The reviewers complained that this hoax paper took an overly compassionate stance toward the “privileged” students who would be subjected to this humiliation, and recommended that they be subjected to harsher treatment.

This isn't just wrong; if anything, the reviewers opposed the shaming technique. Here are the full review comments for all three rejections of the paper. I don't see any concern for an overly compassionate stance, or any recommendation of harsher treatment. When a reviewer does mention it, their concern is that it might be ineffective, and they're uncomfortable with it. Here’s a quote from the second rejection:

What are experiential reparations? Say more about this. Also, some of your suggestions strike me as "shaming." I’ve never had much success with shaming pedagogies, they seem to foment more resistance by members of dominant groups.

And from the same reviewer in the third rejection:

Find a place for the experiential reparations. This still makes me feel uncomfortable, because it’s shame-y and I’m not sure that student can see it otherwise.

After reading the reviewer comments, I'm very sympathetic to the reviewers, and I update toward thinking that their field is not a made-up illegible jargon-fest. They say things like:

"There are dozens of claims that are asserted and never argued for."

"The author promises to explore key terms and explain why they are applicable to the classroom. They introduce: epistemic violence, epistemic oppression, epistemic violence, testimonial smothering, privilege-evasive epistemic pushback, epistemic exploitation, testimonial injustice, hermeneutical injustice, willful ignorance, virtuous listening, and strategic ignorance. This is too much ground to cover!!"

"The scholarship is not as sound as it could be; that is, the basic structure of the argument is plausible and interesting, but the submission has far too many issues that get in the way of a clear and sound presentation of the author’s argument."

"I think these are basically good insights, they need to be argued for more clearly and not just asserted as true. They are interesting claims, say more, say how, say why, and don't just assert...Explain."

These aren’t possible comments from a field full of fashionable nonsense that doesn’t mean anything. I'm sad to contemplate the reviewers trying to help someone fix the mistakes in their paper, while the authors' intention is to slip through as many mistakes as possible. As the editor wrote in an encouraging cover letter:

At the same time ref #1 is encouraging about your revisions. You'll note that ref #1 says, for example, that it's your earlier improvements that have generated some of the new problems that need attention!

See also this Twitter thread by one of the reviewers for the Masturbation is Rape paper (which was rejected). It's sad - he rejected the paper, but wrote some encouraging things, and the hoaxers quoted the positive parts in their essay.

I haven't looked at all the papers in detail; this isn’t a thorough investigation of all of it. Maybe I happened across the least-bad papers and the most-misleading coverage first. I think the "fat bodybuilding" paper is just as bad as it sounds: "fat bodybuilding" would be unhealthy, unpopular, and no sport has ever been started by someone proposing it in a paper to an obscure journal.

But other accepted papers, I think, use a trick: invent some fake data of interest to the journal, and include a discussion section with some silly digressions. The journal accepts the paper because the core is the interesting data, and then the hoax coverage says that the paper is about the silly digressions. For example, the core of the dog park paper is a fake observational study showing that humans, especially males, are faster to stop male-on-male dog sexual encounters than male-on-female sexual encounters. I think that's fine; it is actually indicative of heteronormativity or homophobia or whatever. The paper also has an angle about canine rape culture, and that is indeed silly, but the paper is not best described, as The Chronicle of Higher Education did, as being "about canine rape culture in dog parks in Portland".

There are things to learn from this whole thing. I have a lower opinion of fat studies than I did before. But I have a higher opinion of the various fields that correctly objected to ideology-pleasing buzzword-filled digressions, and I wish the coverage noted that in equal measure. I get the impression you have to fake some interesting data to get much Sokal-style fashionable nonsense through, and even then, they'll catch most of it.

(Maybe I’m minimizing the ridiculousness of what did get past the reviewers. I think a younger, more idealistic version of me would have been more shocked by it, like the commenters at Hacker News who think that peer review should be able to detect fabricated data. My mild reaction is partly due to not expecting Idealized Science-level rigor of these fields to start with.)

And no-one should be saying anything about the rejected papers, except for praising the journals for rejecting them. If you ask someone out, and they say they're flattered but they only like you as a friend, don't gloat that they said that they like you. It's a rejection.

[hub-pub-bub]

Whether you’re currently writing a book, querying agents or on submission to publishers, allow me to share this small-but-important truth: There’s an editor out there right now—sorting stacks of pitch letters, book proposals and manuscripts, thumbing through literary agent submissions, reading selections of the manuscripts she requested from authors directly—who is seeking to buy a book similar to yours.

So, in a sense, your future editor is out there thinking about you.

Picture this person for a moment: Perhaps she’s an associate editor for a mid-level imprint, working her way up at a growing publishing company. She majored in creative writing or English literature or journalism in college, where she developed a passion for Jane Austen or Jack Kerouac, Joan Didion or Anne Lamott. Whoever her muse, she knows good writing when she sees it. She wrote articles for the school newspaper or poems for the literary journal, nabbed a good internship after college and she’s worked hard ever since to finally land her dream job—acquiring and editing books full time and getting paid for it!

The 7 Deadly Sins of Novelists (According to Editors)

Now she fills the role of champion for her authors and books. She pitches the books she discovers to her own internal publishing team, during which she makes a case for both the editorial and business side for acquiring said manuscripts.

Her boss expects her to acquire a handful of new books every year, and though she’s still learning and growing into the job, in part, her performance is tied to the performance of her selections. If she acquires and takes a huge financial risk on a book and it bombs a year later, it reflects on her directly. Of course, like anyone in a new position, she needs time to grow and, sure, she might have more seasoned editors guiding her through this journey. But eventually, given a couple of years, her acquisitions become hers to own.

Does all of this create a little pressure on our friendly associate editor? You bet.

Every editor’s list of acquisitions is viewed (especially by management) as their own personal business within the greater publishing company, complete with its own profit and loss statement (P and L). As a result, each individual book might get more or less scrutiny depending on how it fits into the greater scheme. The worse the editor’s books perform, the harder time she’ll have convincing her team to take risks on her projects in the future.

When you’re writing a book, preparing a proposal or query (for publishers or literary agents, because agents make decisions based on whether they think a publisher will be interested), it’s important to think about your future editor. He is a human being, just like you, and every day he is facing the very real difficulties of the changing market, the shifting retail landscape and his own internal company pressures. He, like many editors in this business, hopes to come across something special—a work of unique power or appeal or finesse or authority—that makes him feel like he did in college when he read Jack Kerouac.

As someone who once sat in the editor’s chair at publishers large and small, I know those simultaneous pressures and hopes firsthand. My first publishing job was as a junior editor acquiring and editing 10–12 books a year for a small, family-owned press. To be honest, for a long time I had no idea what I was doing—but I worked hard and soaked up every lesson I could. Despite my inexperience, over the course of several fairly successful years, I found myself the publisher of that small imprint: hustling to make budgets; publishing competitive, influential books; learning the fast-changing worlds of marketing and publicity; and managing a team that shared my goals.

1. Do Your Homework

Every category and genre of publishing is governed by unspoken rules. In the world of traditional trade book publishing, fiction and nonfiction aren’t the same. For instance, most editors sign nonfiction book deals based on one to two chapters. But for fiction, and especially with first-time novelists, editors typically need to read the full manuscript before a deal is done.

If you’re submitting the next high-concept business book to an experienced agent, or an editor at a business imprint, make sure you’ve done your research. Do you know what other books the literary agent has represented, or the editor has acquired in the recent past? Has that press recently published a book like yours?

Immerse yourself in books similar to your own. Read in the category, but also study the jacket, the acknowledgements page, the author’s blog and their previous books. Conduct industry research on publishing houses, editors and literary agents through sites like Publishers Weekly. Attend a conference, watch lectures on YouTube. Read relevant articles, essays and blog posts.

To know a category is to know the world in which your future editor lives every day.

2. Use Concise Communication

The volume of reading material that accrues on the desks of editors and literary agents is immense. These folks read mountains of content every day, sifting through stacks of submissions for eye-catching queries.

Which is why yours should get right to the point—in such a way that compels them to read more. Don’t belabor your initial synopsis or write a three-page email. If in doubt, the fewer words the better. Share a little about yourself, but only the most relevant points.

Most important: Any sample writing you include should read fast and clean. Editors aren’t looking for reasons to reject, per se, but when inundated, it’s far too easy to dismiss a submission for little things like spelling errors, awkward phrasing or poor formatting.

3. Sign With an Agent

Inking a contract with a good literary agent can help avoid some of the above issues. When on submission to publishers, agents almost always get a faster read than unsolicited queries—especially in certain categories. There are several reasons why this is the case. First, most literary agents take the time to build relationships (and a level of trust) with acquisition editors in the genres they work within. Second, because publishing professionals have such limited time, agents effectively serve as a filter, siphoning in projects with higher-caliber content. Plus, most have also taken the time to work with their authors to develop and shape their book concepts, which adds additional value for the publisher.

I’ve also had countless conversations with authors who published their books agentless, and suddenly found themselves in a strange new world with no idea how to navigate it. Their books released to the world and their lofty publishing dreams slowly wilted as they made mistakes, agreed to bad contractual terms, blindly trusted editors, or neglected their marketing and publicity campaigns. The best literary agents act as a trusted guide, thinking through these details long before a deal ever comes to fruition.

4. Grow Your Platform

Here’s a fact of life in modern publishing: Attracting (and holding) attention is difficult in any medium, especially in a world of social media, streaming television and unlimited self-publishing. As a result, presses look for projects with a built-in audience. It’s thus through a platform that authors can do just that.

I define platform as any outward-facing method a writer uses to attract a readership prior to publishing—which will, in theory, translate to that readership purchasing the writer’s book. It can manifest as anything from a YouTube channel, podcast, blog or Twitter following to an email newsletter or college classroom.

Think of your writing as a business, and take the initiative to build your influence via a robust platform, which will only increase your chances of publishing.

5. Forge a Relationship

Once you sign a book deal, you’ll be assigned a “champion.” More often than not, that person is an acquisitions editor or developmental editor, but it may also be the marketing manager or the publisher herself. While every press is different, often that person is your point of contact throughout the publishing process—from beginning to end.

Whoever your point person, be intentional in building that relationship. If possible, meet your champion face-to-face, or at least set up regular phone calls. Get to know her. This small investment of time and effort on your part can pay off big in the long run.

I’ve seen authors send a nice handwritten note after a meeting or a phone call, thanking the participants for their time. And sometimes I’ve seen those simple thank yous tacked to the wall of an editor’s office years later. A small, kind act goes a long way, and when you need a favor down the road, your champion will remember you.

Guide to Literary Agents 2019

6. Remember to Engage

Shift your thinking about the publishing process: Turning in your manuscript is not the end, but the beginning. The more engaged you are at each subsequent stage, the better chance your book has of making an impact in the market. Writing a terrific manuscript is step one, but you must also help to market, publicize and sell.

Seek to be included in the key publishing decisions along the way, including the final title, cover design, marketing and publicity strategy and so on. Believe it or not, each of these things is regularly decided without the author’s input—but by becoming a part of these decisions, you can bring your vision to the table.

7. Be Your Book’s CMO

Remember: You are your book’s Chief Marketing Officer. You are its first and last advocate. Be clear that this book is still your baby, while remaining cordial and professional.

Consider setting aside some of your advance (if you received one) to help market your book when the time comes. Thinking that far ahead is tough, but every bit of marketing is important: strong Book 1 sales pave the way for Book 2.

If you know your publisher’s marketing strategy (presuming you’ve stayed engaged in the process), then you can supplement it. For example, if the publisher focuses on store placement, ads in industry magazines, focused banner ads and a book tour, then perhaps you invest in hiring a freelance publicist to line up TV, radio or print interviews.

Once you’ve garnered a book deal, it’s easy to sit back and let the professionals handle everything for you. But resist, for your own sake (and the sake of your book). Your book is your baby. When it gets out into the world, you’re the best one to teach it how to walk.

You’ve devoted hours, days, months—even years— to writing and editing your novel or nonfiction book. With all that time invested, it’s natural to want recognition for your hard work and dedication. Take your writing one step further and tackle the publishing process. When you enroll in this online course, you’ll learn the details of the query letter format and how to write a query letter that catches the attention of agents and publishers. Learn more and register.

[clearpeanutcollector]

Bets College Homework Mac App

College isn't all fun and games (unless you want it to be.) Don't sweat it, though. Take a look at these 25 apps — they'll give you a smoother college experience by helping you study smarter, connect with new people and wake up in time for your early lectures.

Jul 06, 2020  BET+ is a premium online streaming service with over 1,000 hours of your favorite Black content from the best Black creators. Now, you can stream Black culture: the movies you remember, the TV shows you love and the new series you can't live without. And they're all in one place, commercial free. Everything from classics like Martin and House of Payne to modern favorites like Bigger and Carl. The best part about this app is that the students can opt for one-on-one interaction with a tutor and clear their doubts instantly. Download: iOS. Student Agenda. This homework app offers a free planner and diary that is designed by the students for an uncluttered usage.

Your university probably has its own app, too — download it. It will provide you with a more tailored breakdown than a national application.

See also: 12 Things Students Should Never Do on Social Media

Any helpful ones we missed? Let us know in the comments!

1. BenchPrep

Image: BenchPrep

BenchPrep is an interactive course library with all the graduate and professional exam study material you can handle. It includes hundreds of practice questions, flashcards, in-app purchases and almost 600 study lessons. Go ahead and pick your poison: LSAT, MCAT, GMAT.

Available for free on iOS and Android devices.

2. iStudiez Pro

Image: iStudentPro

iStudiezPro keeps track of your deadlines, grades and more across all Mac devices — all you need to do is plug your class schedule into the app. It comes with both Cloud syncing and iCal integration.

Bets College Homework Mac Application

Available for $2.99 for iOS. The free iStudiez Lite version limits the number of classes you manage, but it's useful nonetheless.

3. Evernote

You've probably heard a lot about Evernote, and yes, you should try it. What have you got to lose .. your homework? The app syncs all your stuff — text, audio, photo, video — to an online account, so you're always connected with resources to study.

If you're feeling overwhelmed by Evernote's many features, check out this comprehensive beginner's guide.

Available for broke college students (read: free) for iOS and Android devices. The premium version is even more useful, at $5 a month or $45 a year.

4. StudyBlue Flashcards

Flashcards are an effective way to memorize information, but making them is a headache. With StudyBlue, use text, pictures and audio to create the perfect stack of (digital) flashcards; or, search the massive database to borrow someone else's.

Bets College Homework Mac App Free

Available for iOS and Android devices.

5. RealCalc Scientific Calculator

Did your little brother steal your calculator once you finished AP physics? Use RealCalc for serious computing — it's a perfect alternative for the calculator-less.

Available for free for Android. If you need a heavy-duty upgrade, try RealCalc Plus for $3.49.

6. Engineering Professional

More than 650 chemical, civil, electrical, environmental, hydrology and mechanical formulas are updated in Engineering Pro — so don't worry about buying multiple formula apps. Save or Favorite the formulas you need most often.

Available for $11.99 for iOS.

7. EasyBib

Image: EasyBib

EasyBib generates citations in MLA, APA and Chicago style wherever you are — just scan the book's bar code or enter the title. The app also lets you easily email and export the bibliographies to yourself. Using this, you have no excuses for putting off that term paper.

Available for free for iOS and Android devices.

8. Notella

Image: Notella

Some professors drop the most important bombs when you least expect it ('Have a good spring break, everyone. Oh! One more thing: We're having an exam worth 60% of your final grade the day you get back. See ya!').

Don't miss a thing with Notesdeck. This super-fast note-taking app opens to a new note by default, lets you create custom hotkeys and syncs notes from other apps — iCloud, Evernote, Simplenote and Dropbox. You can even search within those other apps from one search bar.

Mac map mouse button app download. Feb 06, 2007  Question: Q: Mouse Button Mapping More Less. Apple Footer. This site contains user submitted content, comments and opinions and is for informational purposes only. Apple may provide or recommend responses as a possible solution based on the information provided; every potential issue may involve several factors not detailed in the conversations. May 28, 2012  ‎Joystick Mapper is an application that allows you to configure your joysticks or gamepads to simulate keyboard keys/mouse movement/mouse click/mouse scroll, so you can control any app or game using them, even the ones without built-in support. It also lets you remap the Scroll Wheel Button to some useful functions like Mission Control and it features a refined Smooth-Scrolling algorithm, which I think strikes a great balance between fluidity and control. Mac Mouse Fix is very light on system resources and it's a System Preferences Plugin so there's no status bar item. X-Mouse Button Control by Phillip Gibbons (Highresolution Enterprises) is a free application that can help you customize the functionality of your mouse buttons (set new functions to mouse buttons). Sadly, there is no version of X-Mouse Button Control for Mac available for download, but there are other tools that can help you change the.

Available for $2.99 for iOS.

9. Wolfram Alpha

From thermodynamics to baseball, the Wolfram Alpha reference app uses its supercomputing Cloud to quickly generate answers — across thousands of domains — to all your research questions.

Available for $2.99 for iOS and Android devices.

10. Dictionary.com Mobile

With more than two million definitions, synonyms and antonyms, Dictionary.com's fast and user-friendly mobile app will decode that confusing media law textbook in no time.

Available for free for iOS and Android devices.

11. Babylon

Whether you're a Spanish lit major or just looking to finish your general education requirements, Babylon provides comprehensive dictionary results and translations for dozens of languages. With pasteboard integration and access to more than 1,500 glossaries in 75 languages, you'll never struggle to find an accurate definition for your foreign language presentation again.

iBabylon is available for free for iOS; Babylon Translator is available for free for Android.

12. Jumpcut

You have better things to do than copy and paste all day. Make light work of data entry assignments with Jumpcut: copy as much text as you want, one after another, and paste using simple keystrokes.

Available for Macs only.

13. Dragon Dictation

Ever wish you could type faster? Dragon Dictation uses accurate voice recognition software to let you speak and instantly see your words in text. Dictate statuses to your social networks or pretend you're talking to someone if you're trying to write a speech — even send statuses straight to your social networks. Try this if you're in a time crunch and really need to churn out an essay; or, if you're just someone who prefers speaking over writing.

Available for free for iOS.

14. SelfControl

Image: Flickr, jonas maaloe

It's finals week. You have a huge essay to finish .. but then there's Reddit, emitting its bewitching siren call. Every. Damn. Time.

SelfControl lets you set a period of time to block certain websites or mail servers by adding them to a 'blacklist.' It's too bad if you finish your work early — restarting your computer or deleting the application won't negate the timer.

Available for free for Mac OS X.

15. Studious

Avoid interrupting class and getting on your professor's bad side with Studious. Once you input your class schedule, Studious will silence your phone during those hours.

Available for free for Android. Upgrade to Studious+ for $1.99 to bypass the ads.

16. Circle of 6

Ever feel uncomfortable when it's dark and you're in a new part of a city — or even campus? Circle of 6 won the White House's Apps Against Abuse challenge. It helps you stay safe by connecting you to six trusted contacts, whenever and wherever. Use the pre-programmed 'come and get me' message with your GPS location, or easily call national and local emergency hotlines in critical situations. It's a fast and discreet way to put your safety first.

Available for free for iOS and Android devices.

Addendum: You don't actually need six people if you want to double up on contacts.

17. Skype

Image: Skype

Hi!The last days I've noticed how every time I start Safari everything freezes (finder included) for a couple minutes. Macos bitcoin miner in mrt.app. Then I can write something in the search bar, and then it freezes another time!

Video interviews are not going away any time soon — so you might as well get a heads up now. Microsoft's Skype is a reliable way to connect with faraway family and friends via text, voice and — of course — video.

Available for free for iOS and Android devices.

18. LinkedIn

LinkedIn and all its nifty mobile features makes connections a breeze — for better or worse, college is a time of both personal and professional connections.

Available on the web, of course, but also for free for iOS and Android devices.

19. Twitter

Don't be the only person in class who isn't up-to-date with world events. Use Twitter to keep yourself in the loop in both the academic and social aspects of your life. In today's contemporary classrooms, you may even be asked to participate in class discussions via Twitter.

Available for free for iOS and Android devices.

20. Sworkit

There are a lot of things to do in college. Exercising isn't always one of them; especially when there's socializing and studying to be had. Sworkit's greatest asset is its ability to let you choose your exercise time allotment in five-minute increments — starting at, yes, the very low threshold of five minutes. Doable, right?

It also boasts an extensive list of work out routines.

Available for free for iOS and Android devices. Sworkit Pro comes with advanced features and costs $0.99 for iOS and Android.

See also: 10 YouTube Channels That Will Make You Smarter

21. Mint

Club fees. Books. Tuition. Food. College adds up — quickly. Mint is a web and mobile app that helps you keep track of your spending. Plus, it's never too early to start cultivating good credit.

Available for free for iOS and Android devices.

22. Sleep If U Can Alarm

Bets College Homework Mac Apps

Come on, you lazy bum — you're paying for these early classes, remember? Nicknamed the 'world's most annoying alarm,' Sleep If U Can gives you two options to silent the alarm: 1) Shake your phone; or 2) Physically go the place shown on your screen (see: the bathroom sink in the video) and take a picture.

Available for $1.99 for iOS and free for Android.

23. Pocket First Aid & CPR

Mashable composite, images: Pocket First Aid & CPR

While it's not the sexiest app to have at your disposable, you never know when it might come in handy. Along with clear and concise CPR instructions, Pocket First Aid and CPR contains 34 videos and 46 high-resolution illustrations.

Available for $1.99 for iOS and Android devices.

Bets College Homework Mac App Download

24. Between

Attempting the long-distance relationship course? Kudos — that's no small task. Relationship app Between can help ease the separation anxiety by letting you send messages, voicemails, memos and photos. A private timeline makes it easy to reminisce about the good old days with your significant other(s).

Available for free for iOS and Android devices.

25. TED

Image: TED

In an environment often congested with bad influences, a heavy dose of genius goes a long way. TED Talks give you instant access to the biggest thought leaders of our time.

Available for free for iOS and Android devices.

Image: Mashable, Meghan Uno

Whether you're taking the first step towards school or passing out of the college, your life can be a total mess including assignments, surprise tests, homework, examinations, attendance and so on. All you do is wake up early, go to school and come back. That becomes your routine cutting out the quality time to spend with your family and friends. How disheartening is that? With such a busy schedule and a massive number of deadlines to fulfill, it becomes quite challenging to keep track of homework or anything that has to be submitted on the next day. In such circumstances, a homework planner or organizer could be reliable to oversee and update you regarding the assignments, homework and other deadlines. Of course, it's a daunting task to look out for a suitable homework planner who can assist you with your regular tasks.

Top 5 Homework Planner Apps for College Students

Because it is a tedious job, we have come up with the best homework planner apps for students that will help them to do their tasks without any hassle:

1. School Planner

School planner is a full-scale homework planner app that is designed mainly to pay attention to students so that they are well focussed about their career. This app has a pile of features ranging from simple features to ones that you can think of. Besides your homework and timetable, school planner app assists you to keep track of your attendance. You can also add your teachers' contacts on the list, combine recorded lectures which could be beneficial during exams and add multiple planners too. Initially, it is a tedious job to use this app as you have to enter all your details in a form. In addition to your details, you must enter your teacher's details, timetable, and other college details. But once that's done, you're good to go! The app also supports backing up all the data that you feed in via Google drive, calendar, etc. This app does not fail to give you weekly reports, give reminders on the day of submission of assignments, attach snapshots to any reminders. Although the school planner offers a lot of features, it has the best performance with a beautiful framework. In case of your research paper you can use Edusson at affordable pricing.

2. Istudiez pro

Istudiez pro is yet another student-friendly homework planner app and probably the oldest app when compared to all of the mentioned apps. Like school planner, this app also offers a wide range of features including grading, attendance and subject wise organization of activities. It is way easier to set up when compared to a school planner. But the prominent feature in studies pro is that it is integrated with Google Calendar which gives you all the details like holidays, exam schedule, daily routine and so on. Not just that, it is also supported in all operating platforms like iOS, Mac, and windows. All the apps sync well and therefore you can operate this homework planner anywhere anytime on your laptop.

3. My study life

The next homework planner app for college students is My Study Life. The best thing about this app is that it has its web app which makes it unique. The web app can sync well(mostly on Android) therefore making your data accessible from any remote location using your device. Make sure that you've got a web browser installed in your device. This is a goal-oriented app and keeps reminding you about how much is completed and how much is left to achieve the goal. In addition to that, the calendar feature keeps track of all the important dates, it could be deadlines or project submission dates. The only con of my study life is that it is quite lengthy to set up. Once it is correctly done, you're all set!

4. ChalkBoard

One of the smartest homework planner app for students is a chalkboard. It is pretty quick regarding its features and subject wise allocation of teachers on the app. When you open it for the first time, it prompts you to fill the name and subjects of all your teachers along with the timetable. Cool, isn't it? Although the setup process is a tedious job, it is entirely reliable and smooth. The amazing part is you don't have to memorize your timetable as you can see the upcoming classes on the home screen. Not just that, you can also find pending assignments and other tasks on the screen making your job way too easy. Features like these make this app stand out when compared to other homework organizer apps and gives you a great overall experience. This homework planner app would have been much more superior if it had a calendar feature in it.

5. Egenda

It's quite easy to set up Egenda when compared to others. All you need to do is, add the subjects and classes that you have. Once that is done, you have the choice of adding any homework, deadline, project or test. The pending tasks can be seen in the form of cards and have to be swiped away once it's completed. The best part about this homework planner app is that it keeps you updated, could be regarding the upcoming assignments, tasks or competitions. This will help you plan ahead and complete the job on time. Unfortunately, the app doesn't have a timetable feature. But in its latest update, you will find a calendar that can assist you in keeping track of dates. Backup option not available in this app, therefore data can't be recovered once you lose it.

Final Words

So these were some of the coolest homework planner apps exclusively for career-oriented students who want their tasks to be completed on time and who do not wish to struggle till the last minute to meet the goal. We genuinely understand your problem and these apps are going to be of great use to you!

[artisticsarcasm]

Turning Tables

Alright this is my first ever Bughead fanfic actually first fanfiction in general written by me so i hope and pray this goes well. Sorry for any mistakes it’s late and i was eager to get this up. ___________________________________

Betty Cooper the girl next door and part time worker for the register. When she needs a ground-breaking story to launch her writing career she sets her eyes on the most feared gang in riverdale and there infamous prince jughead Jones. When she goes undercover to unlock the secrets of the southside she starts to become one of them and starts to long for more than just information but also the affections of the serpent prince himself. ______________________________________

CHAPTER 1 - Internships

“Miss Cooper i must say your resume is very impressive one of the best we’ve ever seen” Betty gave her award winning smile and nodded her head in thanks as the stern women sitting in front of her gave a slight smirk and continued “But I’m afraid there are some concerns regarding your age, as you know these opportunities are usually given to college students not…high schoolers” Betty noticed the woman’s face contort into a disapproving frown.

“Mrs.Jacobs i understand your concerns and why you would be hesitant in choosing me, but i promise i have what it takes to do everything that needs to be done. I’ve been writing since forever, helping my parents run the town newspaper I’ve even had a few side reviews published and can guarantee that i won’t let you down.” Betty’s confidence was beginning to waver she could have sworn the essay she sent was a shoe in to get her chosen despite her being younger than most who applied for this particular intern opportunity. It got worse as the stone faced women stared downward at her notepad as she scribbled something off to the side. When she looked up again she sighed.

“Alright Elizabeth here’s what i’ll do for you,” she paused a moment as if reconsidering her offer but continued none the less “Though you’ve written side reviews for your parents paper i want you to go a step further, I want you to Write out a full fledged article. I want you to dig deeper than you ever have and write a story good enough to catch our attention and the towns, send it to us we’ll review it and get back to on whether or not you got it.” Betty did her best to not let her smile falter and nodded in agreement.

“Okay, yeah i’ll get right on it, no problem, you won’t be disappointed i promise!” she replied a bit too quickly as the lady began to pack up her things.

“I’m expecting it a month from tomorrow” Betty’s heart dropped as Mrs.jacobs voice cut through her spirits. A month, she had a month to figure out something amazing to write about, gather information piece it all together, write and rewrite and edit it and then convincing her parents to approve it and proofread and edit it over again. It took her 3 months to perfect her essay and it had taken her friends Veronica and Archie to submit it behind her back when she would non-stop edit it until she was satisfied and found it perfect, yet she still was too scared to submit it herself.

“sounds great” her voice cracked and even she could tell “thank you so much for meeting with me and for your time mrs.jacobs i really appreciate it” the women gave a small smile in thanks then left out of the library.

Betty kicked a crushed can in front of her as the snow fell swiftly around her. she hung her head low deep in thought. there were plenty of people and stories and lives that could be dug out of the small town but nothing was sparking her interest. she sighed in defeat as she approached her home. Her mom would surely hound her about the interview the moment she walked in. this internship could spark her entire writing career and launch her to the top.

As she opened the door as quietly as possible she kicked off the snow that was caked onto her boots and hung her coat on the rack as she closed the door and locked it. Her mother’s voice rang out.

“Elizabeth! is that you?” Betty sighed and walked into the kitchen where her mother was icing a cake for her Dad’s upcoming birthday. her mother always liked to test out different cakes in order to make the perfect one she often times either gave the extra ones away or threw them out hence not coming out how she liked.

“hi mom” her mother gestured towards an empty chair for her to sit in and she complied.

“so how did it go? did you get it?”  

“Not exactly” she sighed. her mother stopped and placed the icing tube down on the counter. she turned towards her and raised and eyebrow urging her to go on. Betty told her what happened about how she had write an article and have it flawless in a month, and how she had no idea what to do.

“Betty, sweetheart, you’ll think of something i know you will” her mom prompted “you have to get that internship do you know how good that will look on your college resume”

“i know mom” she exclaimed as she got up from her seat “i’m headed over to pop’s i told veronica i’d meet her there after i came home” her mother’s lips formed a thin line in disapproval. Betty knew her mom wasn’t a fan of the Lodges but Betty didn’t care when it came to her mom it seemed she wasn’t a fan a lot of the families in this town.

As she walked into pops with the familiar ringing of the bell she smiled over towards her brunette friend and sat down at their usual booth. “Ah lo and behold my amazing best friend who i know scored a college level internship has finally arrived! i already ordered your favorite strawberry milkshake in celebration.” Veronica smiled proudly until she saw the frown on betty’s face “what’s wrong? you did get it didn’t you?”

“They weren’t sure if i could handle it so they gave me an assignment or a final test of sorts to see if i really have what it takes” she went into the details of how she couldn’t think of a single thing to write about or investigate, and Veronica went into a rant about how unfair, and idiotic they were and how her essay was the best ever. Betty calmed her down telling her it was okay and suggested they toss some ideas around.

“how about fashion do’s and don’t?”

“Veronica i already told you no fashion columns i’m no good at those!”

“How about you look into the blossoms see what they’re hiding!”

“absolutely not! That’s like asking for a death wish and plus the blossoms are too predictable they are the most known family on the northside it would be predictable to do yet another article on the blossoms” suddenly the bell rang again signalling another customer and veronica groaned loudly when she and betty saw who.

“those damn serpents, why do they have to come to our side of town!” veronica fumed. The southside serpents the most known gang in riverdale and known as a band of no good heathens looking for trouble especially the younger ones who show there faces around pops and the northside more often, and there in the middle of them all with his crown shaped beanie to fit his title was the serpent prince himself. Jughead Jones. his dad ran the gang and did a hell of a good job of it. His infamous son was a mystery to most. all anyone ever heard or knew of him was all the trouble him and his gang caused.

And that’s when it hit her, her prized story coming to mind.

“Veronica shhh” betty did her best to silence her very outspoken friend “i think i know what i want to write about”

Veronica switched her attention back to betty full force “don’t shh me i have a right to state my opinion!” she huffed “anyway what have you come up with?”

Betty bit her lip as she turned towards the serpent’s table and she immediately regretted it as her bright green eyes clashed with stunning stormy blue. she quickly turned away and answered in a low whisper “The Serpent prince himself” Betty hardly had time to stop her flamboyant best friend as she slammed her perfectly manicured hand on the table.

“Betty Cooper i think not!” she shouted turning all heads in the diner towards them. Betty pleaded with veronica with her eyes to stop being so loud and making a scene. Veronica caught it quick and stood up and pulled betty out of her seat. she dragged her to the door as she told her “we’ll see what Archibald has to say about this!” but it was too late betty had already made up her mind. Her story was going to be one of the biggest in riverdale. The inside scoop on the serpents and the truth behind there mystery prince. she was already forming an idea of how she’d sneak off to the southside and convince Jughead Jones to help her.

“sounds like bad news betts i agree with ronnie” Veronica gave a victorious smile and betty rolled her eyes as he tossed his football from one hand to the other.

they were currently at Archie’s house while his dad was at work sitting on the front steps. When Archie had seen his girlfriend dragging Betty and nagging he knew he was in for an earful. Veronica gave him her version of the story of how betty needed a great topic to write about, and told him her “horrendous” idea.

“you’re just saying that because she’s your girlfriend!” Betty said as she folded her arms and narrowed her eyes towards him.  

“am not!” he laughed “i’m serious betty those serpents are bad news and you know you can get carried away when it comes to your writing, you should keep it on the north side where you at least know your way around” Veronica was nodding in agreement which only made her more upset.

“Are you guys serious! the whole point of this paper is to dig deep into something i don’t know about, to add risk to my writing, i want venture out into unknown territory, i want this paper to be so amazing and unexpected and different from all the others i’ve ever written”

“I’ve heard he’s killed a man” Ronnie tried to protest.

“probably a rumor, but we’ll never know what’s true about him or what him and his gang is really like unless i do this”

“oh yeah!” Veronica replied sarcastically “because your just gonna waltz onto southside all like ‘hey guys i need to write my paper for my internship can you spill all of your secrets to me so i can expose them’ that sure is gonna work Betty!”

“i can go undercover!” at that point both of her friends were laughing at her and it made her blood boil “Fine then! go ahead and laugh but when i get my story you’ll see who’s laughing then!’ she began to walk back to her house as veronica and archie called out to her but she wasn’t listening. when she got inside she avoided her parents and ran to her room and started to plan how the hell she was going to get in with the Jones boy and his gang.

[polyacrylamidepensieve]

For Posterity

Just realized as I was walking around my circle today, working on getting my stamina back: it’s probably a good idea to actually record just how colossally bad I’ve felt in the last four years or so. This way, when my patients tell me someday that they’re having similar sufferings, I can read this and remember how the world looks from here.

I haven’t wanted to honestly talk about it, bc it makes people uncomfortable and they don’t know how to respond… so guys, just don’t bother. Rest assured, I’m perfectly fine and there’s nothing more I need in this world right now. I’m happy now, that’s what matters. That’s what makes now a good time to finally write about this stuff in straightforward prose, without all of the pretty metaphors and euphemisms I always hide behind when I don’t want to admit how bad I’m feeling even to myself.

I’m posting this publicly because I want others to read my story and see their own suffering reflected here, to message me and tell me how your stories are perhaps similar and yet not the same. You are not alone. You are not abnormal. I got better. Maybe you will, too.

Okay. Let’s see. Well, during the first two years of med school, I was so clinically depressed and had so many intrusive thoughts (a symptom of anxiety) that I suffered from severe cognitive limitations. I couldn’t focus for long enough to read so much as a sentence. I’d get to the third word and then come to ten minutes later and realize I’d spaced out and couldn’t remember what I was supposed to be doing or why, and then I’d go lie down until I could remember what I had been trying to do. So I ended up basically either in class (four hours a day, four days a week) or in bed. Being in bed so much is really physically bad for a person - I completely deconditioned. I lost ten pounds because I couldn’t get up the desire to eat. I became short of breath just standing or walking for half an hour or so. I got sick at the drop of a hat, and I still think that level of immunocompromise is why I got cancer later. But more on that in a bit. I couldn’t hold real conversations or make friends - I’d forget what I was trying to say halfway through pretty much every sentence, and I couldn’t focus for long enough to really hear what people were trying to tell me, either. For someone who had always been high achieving, it was a truly eye opening experience to have a working memory of about 2-3 pieces of information. I know now what it’s like to stare at something for hours without comprehension. After I switched psychiatrists and my meds were doubled around the end of second year, I woke up one day and could think again. (I had a week before step 1. Still not sure how I passed, and not sure my score will be enough to get me in anywhere I want to go either. But that’s not relevant here. The point is,) I looked at the material that had given me so much trouble and I could understand it within about thirty seconds. That’s when I finally understood my privilege. That’s why “try harder” is no longer something I tell anyone to do, no matter how seemingly small or mundane the task. I finally understood in that moment that everyone is trying their very hardest every single day. Being able to accomplish things simply by trying hard is a capital-P Privilege.

Anyway, I was mildly suicidal for a little bit. I ended up sleeping with the classmate who lived in my building simply because he was the one person who could be there without too much inconvenience. When I didn’t know for sure that I could be alone and be safe, I didn’t feel like I was imposing too much by asking him to come up a few flights of stairs, and so I actually reached out for help, thank god. We don’t really get along, and we fought constantly because he’s unintentionally but unerringly patronizing and I was uber sensitive. If not for my condition, I don’t think we would have talked much or even been friends. But he saved my life, and I will forever be grateful for his willingness to be my crutch when I needed it most.

I don’t actually remember most of the ins and outs of those two years. He remembers much better than I do. I don’t remember entire major outings or conversations I had with people. It’s almost like being blacked out - you’re somewhat functional at the time but have no memory of it later. If my school had had tests or grades, I would not have made it through. I got my weekly essays and presentations done by going to bed early and waking up to do them at 3 am. I could focus a little better right when I woke up, and the adrenaline of having to present or submit in a few hours helped me to cobble together at least a semblance of something I could turn in.

The silver lining? I shed the gigantic ego I’d been lugging around. That, and I developed a thick skin. Thick enough, hopefully, to make it through a surgical residency. We’ll see. I am now capable of publicly humiliating myself and laughing it off - a vital tool in the physician toolbox. I, who would once have been mortified not to be thoroughly prepared for each and every class, made it through med school without reading a thing. My inadequacy was in everyone’s face during those years. It showed up three times a week for small group problem-based learning. It reared its head every Monday or Thursday when I worked with my preceptors in clinic. And whenever I was compelled to speak in class, it made sure to loiter around until the very end. My classmates still see me as an incompetent, anxious, and unreliable peer, and I may never truly win their trust at this point. The less pleasant ones didn’t deign to speak to me at all, back then. Wouldn’t meet my eyes or acknowledge what I had to say. Anyway, it was either learn to handle it or kill myself. The boy I mentioned above once described the aftermath of my suicide in such vivid detail that I couldn’t bring myself to be so selfish, even when I was at rock bottom. So now here I am, for better or for worse, unapologetically alive and with the habit of failing firmly tucked into my back pocket.

I can also now say that I’m a significantly more receptive listener, so there’s that. I no longer hear threats to my ego when people are just trying to help or to ask for help. Also, being willing to admit to anyone that I don’t know something or that I’m wrong somewhere has allowed me to become much more assertive and to ask for things I would never have asked for before. Nothing can hurt me anymore, not worse than I’ve handled being hurt before.

Not even cancer. That’s the second half of all of this. It’s a much shorter half, bc honestly it wasn’t that bad. But the fatigue, my god. Night sweats are gross, surgery hurts, my breasts are no longer as beautiful as they were, the MRI guided biopsy was brutally painful and I’m allergic to the contrast dye. None of that compares to the fatigue. I struggled for months before my diagnosis and just couldn’t explain to my research year supervisor why I had so much trouble coming in to work on time. I would sleep for twelve, fourteen hours on the weekends, wake up for two hours and then nap for another five or six hours. I never felt rested. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my team to respect or like me. I was just so tired.

After my diagnosis, the blows just kept coming. I was diagnosed via phone call on my 26th birthday, and my parents’ insurance stopped covering me at the end of that month. We didn’t know what stage I was, if I’d need chemo, if I’d lose my fertility and my hair. Having my own biological kids was top of the list when it came to priorities before, but now that I’ve given real thought to what life looks like without them, things have shifted a bit.

I don’t have a ton else to say, though, about cancer suffering. Radiation hurt like hell the first day but got better. My boyfriend of six months dumped me and got right back together with the girl he was sleeping with before meeting me, almost not quite even in that order, around week one of radiation. But honestly? I got off easy. No chemo. I’ve even come off of my depression meds. And I’m grateful to said latest ex, too, because he was the one who found my cancer. I think I just don’t want ever to forget how scary it all was, despite knowing how to navigate the system better than most and having insider influence. For my patients, I can’t afford to forget the pre-surgery anxiety or the shock of being diagnosed. I can’t forget what it was like to be powerless and broken, because someday I’ll be the one behind the knife, the one with all the power.

And you know what? Cancer is something that either breaks people apart or pushes them together, and I found out that I am truly blessed with incredible friends. I didn’t tell many people about my diagnosis (at this point, half of my 32 person class doesn’t know), and still I had a few classmates and friends offer to shave their heads with me. Others offered to bring me food, take me to my appointments, watch my cat, and some even just came over almost every day for a week to hold my hand and listen to me cry my eyes out over a boy. My 3 best girlfriends, who’ve been my best friends since we were all in fifth grade, sent me packages and pictures of pink strips they’d collectively dyed into their hair. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay all of this forward, but I guess I can definitely try. :)

[swearronchanel]

Kicking off the hiatus with 5.04

A few people have requested that I continue my commentaries™ during the hiatus & after all the positive feedback, I couldn’t say no! But I expected to have an awful day & it actually went well so I thought I’d go ahead and do it now. You know since I’m going to avoid all my responsibilities anyway it might as well be for a good cause🙃

I watched a lot of shameless on Netflix today so it’s nice to watch something wholesome for a change of pace 😂

“The world was shifting on its axis in 1961, strides were being made, decisions taken, questions asked..” Vanessa’s narration is always on point like I wish I had the patience to post all her quotes 😭😂

Aw sister Mary Cynthia! I hope she’s in the Christmas special

My bby trixie looking flawless while riding a bike, goals

But who is this nun they’re having a service for lol ??

Like it’s kinda irrelevant oops,  r i p & dios te bendiga but why do we care? at least I don’t

Isn’t this girl from something? She looks so familiar

i remember saying this before .. oh yea she’s from game of thrones I think. I don’t watch it though haha

“Angel? I could get used to that!” Aw my bby is so cute like yes trix ur an angel

yikes that cough lady, I have a stuffy nose rn and I’m hoping I don’t start coughing 😭cause then I wanna be in a coma cause I hate being sick

Aw he'a so excited! He got into university👏🏼 that was legit me though 😂 I’m so irrational and literally only applied to one university (well I filled out many applications but didn’t submit any others because you gotta pay so I tried to wait and see if I got accepted to where I wanted first😂) I found out in English while on my phone instead of doing work & I screamed and just ran out the classroom 😂 I went to my guidance councilor and told everyone in the main office and then called my parents who *were nervous I wouldn’t get in* but also were literally going through security in the airport on their way to Dominican Republic .. ah, I was full of excitement and hope. Look at me now 3 semesters in &I’m over it 😂😂 it’s so stressful and mentally/emotionally draining and sometimes I’m just like how do I become a trophy wife asap?

BACK TO THE SHOW THOUGH

My bby SHELAGH! 😍 she is so precious in her suit aww, but lets be real the navy suit is the best™ one she owns. But I still like her best in uniform at the clinic though 💁🏼

she’s over here giving a talk on giving birth at home & Im just like holy shit SHE JUST HAD A BABY IN THEIR NEW HOME, I STILL CANT BELIEVE IT😭!!!!

Tom’s so excited for Ian it’s so cute and sweet

And Tom is so cute and attractive ugh, he could get it

oh damn wait Mrs Cottingham has the baby with no limbs

aw yea and she wanted a girl

I agree though little boys are gremlins 😂😂 from ages like 7-14, get them away from me 😂

Ian all hopeful for their future and then boom he’s a dad. That went from 0 to 💯 real quick

Phyllis!! & lol sister W giggling

But damn why they all acting like Sister J is too old and incapable 😂 she wants to go to St Cuthberts, let her

Sister Monica Joan upset aw😭 don’t worry sister you’re Help is needed

Pats and Deels look cute “tanning” outside

“You want to see Anita Ekberg in that fountain just as much as I do”  Lmaoo 😂😂 for real though have u ever seen La Dolce Vita? Like Anita Ekberg was too hot to handle. I wish I looked that good damn

Trixie came to thirdwheel even though she isn’t unaware she is lol

But Trixie is serving summer looks™ I love it 😍

Damn though Patsy’s legs are pretty pasty 😂😂

Trixie wondering what the hell kinda magic bra Anita had on, literally same cause I want it. Always need good quality strapless bras for summer👍🏻

Patsy inviting Trixie and Delia gave the side eye omg 😂

Here comes Babs lmao

LOL DEELS IS SALTY OMG

ugh this is when Babs first got with Tom and they were annoying lmao, I got over it though

If I was Trixie I’d be lowkey mad too like that was her ex-fiancé but I’m glad they got over it and are friends despite that 💕 cause I know petty girls that would just cut the other off

WHY DO THEY PRONOUNCED SCHEDULE LIKE THAT? And honestly How?? Like I can’t even lol it’s hard. Oops is my American showing

Sister J out here

Ohh yea this matron is a bitch lmao, vete ya

What is the correlation between going to grammar school and getting pregnant ?? @ Ian’s mom

Lol Trixie’s just like pls don’t ask me

ugh get this nurse/matron or what ever tf she is off my screen before I smack her

I swear Jenny Agutter has such a relaxing voice, like she really can calm you down & tell you all will be well & you’ll just be like “yea you right”😭

Tom is so rational and sensible because if I walked in I’d immediately start screaming and all that like “calm tf down people" 

Pats and Deels sneaking around in a convent lol it gives me anxiety always thinking “oh shit u think someone will walk in?”

LOL OKAY TOM YOU TELL YOURSELF TRIXIE IS MAD ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE

Damn Tom you just made Babs feel like a rebound™

“Who’s to say we won’t carry on” ya will be fine & get married next year chill out

So Babs is only 23, how old are the other nurses *well how old do you think*??

WHEN WILL WE SEE A NONNATUN BIRTHDAY?? *I preferably want to see Trixie or Shelagh have one* but I’d take anyone really, like these people literally celebrate every other damn holiday/event but no one has had a birthday?? Except for Jenny and Chummy but they’re both gone lol

yikes emphysema, one of my grandfathers died from that. 70 odd years of tobacco smoking 😬 he did someone love to be 85 yrs old though. Idk how, he couldn’t breathe for so long

I love Phyllis just saying again for the millionth time

Aw Trix 💔 you will be happy soon💕😭

See! She said w/o Sister J she’d be screaming! Her presence is calming

Emergency c-section aye dios

Turn up at the pub

Lol funny how the dad gave Tom orange juice bc he’s a vicar but he was drunk af the night before his wedding 😂 drunk enough to have little memory and to be hungover the next day

we’ve all been there tho I don’t judge

Is it really CtM if there’s not at least one mention of babycham a series?

c-sections are wild omg

also I’ve never been under anesthesia so I’d be scared af

LOL & also I’ve never had a kid so that’s scary too duh

“Oh God another one” ahh omg

Do you think that was a doll ??

Again this show makes everything look real af so I never know

Is the doctor here the Mr Kenely that I hate??

They really left that baby there to die like o m g

Sister J praying/blessing the baby 💔💔 my freaking heart omg

again this nurse is on my screen and I need her to go, preferably to carajoland

“may the lord bless you and keep you”!! 💔😭

the third deformed baby and they didn’t report it??

“I’m not drunk” I mean you’re sitting on the floor in the bathroom so I’d think you were too 😂

Lol remember.. *cringes* no wait lets not

Tom worked in a record shop that’s cute

damn Tom do you really think telling them to just settle is the best way to comfort him

Aw sister J needs a hug😭😢💕

and yes prayer you’re right sister MJ

Sister MJ, Sister MC & Sister J comforting each other is so pure, all the they have scenes together wash my sins away for a second

wait where tf is sister Winifred lmao, did she just scadaddle after compline? snuck out to see a heathen movie i bet  jk jk I’m sure she only sneaks to quality films

but then I say dumb shit like that ^ or even worse/more inappropriate & the sins return😂😂

There’s my bby Shelagh! And in uniform, love it. 😭😍

Whenever Shelagh goes back to work next series I hope we see more of her being a nurse cause I love it

Wild that the hospital was just not saying anything about the deformed babies

Sister J coming to the best detective in Poplar, Dr Watson aka Shelagh Turner aka secret agent Shealgh Turnova™ 😂😂 *forever one of my fave lines of hers*

Lmao Tim helping out old ladies, being a good seed & too perfect of a teen

But damn boy comb your hair!

“I haven’t boiled any urine today, nice to have a change of pace” Lol Babs😂😂

oh no she’s bleeding 😢

I’m having flashbacks to Shelagh’s threatened miscarriage like lets not go down that painful memory lane  

Sister J told Ruby it was a girl bc she knew she wanted a girl ughhh 😢

Ruby thinks it was a punishment 💔 ugh my heart & ugh again makes me think of when Shelagh thought she was being punished/greedy when they told her she couldn’t have a baby 💔

Stop the sadness I say, stop it now

“We haven’t got a fairy godmother between us” WHERE IS PHYLLIS WHEN SHE IS NEEDED?

And Poor what’s her name 💔💔

oh yea it’s Linda omg how could I forget that’s my Gram’s name

But Shelagh and Trixie are interacting!!

It’s about a patient but at least they’re speaking right .. LMAO BUT WAIT ILL NEVER BE OVER HORMONAL SHELGH YELLING AT TRIXIE ABOUT THE FAMILY PLANING CLINIC ENTRANCE

ALSO: I’LL KEEP SAYING IT TILL I DIE, ALL I WANT IS A TRIXIE & SHELAGH FRIENDSHIP! 😭😭💕💖💖 they’re my bbys and I’ve been asking nicely

shit ¡¡ @beatrix-franklin wrote a damn essay as to why we need/want it !!

PLS LET IT HAPPEN @ HEIDI & OTHER WRITERS😭💔

Shelagh’s grey cardigan is actually cute *she just doesn’t need anymore lol*

“What the poor pet really needs is a good cry, a bottle of aspirin and a hug in no particular order..but the hug is of prime importance”  you see. We could’ve have a cute scene of Trixie visiting Shelagh in the hospital & a little parallel of when she visited her in the sanatorium

or Just give me Trixie hugging Shelagh and I’ll cry of joy 😭💕

omg wait

shit I forgot Ian put his head in the oven

Angela playing on the floor !! So precious ���

“..Don’t think they’d thank you for that Patrick, they’re both younger than me”  Lol I always laugh at that, it’s kinda cute. I like when Shelagh has funny lines , why didn’t Patrick say anything back 😂 there could’ve been cute playful banter. Even this series we could’ve heard him call her an elderly primigravida is a joking/playful banter context ..BUT at least we know now Shelagh is 36!

Yea man those bombs impacted multiple generations

“So World War II is history now is it?” I seriously love these little lines of Shelagh’s lol. Also funny how she prob sees her self as old, and she was what, like my age, when the war needed?? 18 or 19 depending on her birthday (We’d know but nonnatuns apparently don’t ever have birthdays)

Shit. Wait..I feel. Kinda strange and scary to think my future children will learn in school the events I’ve lived through so far ??

okay lets not think about that

what’s the sluice? I know he washes instruments but what exactly is the sluice? The room ? Idk

Aw Angela crying, one of the the only times we’ve heard her make a sound lol

WAIT HE COULD BE SUED FOR BREAKING THE ENGAGEMENT WHAT??

“How long have we been broken off?” “A year. To be precise a year and ten days”  I know they weren’t really a good match but aw 😭 it was nice while it lasted

Trixie Bby 💔💔 happiness is coming your way I promise

“I never know when I love you the most. But I sometimes think these are the times I love you best..”😭😭 BYE IM DEAD AGAIN & MY HEART EXPLODED AGAIN😭💔💕💕

thinking about it though, they’ve never actually said I love you properly, have they??

See Patrick’s little med school anecdote, can Shelagh share one anytime soon? About anything from her past, I’m just curious.

Was that just a piece of “in the mirror” or is it playing in my head? Honestly it happens quite often, I’ll swear I hear a song and it’s actually in my head

alright Ian so why were you marrying her? you switching it up kid

I’m calling him kid like he’s not probably older than me lmao

Phyllis in her robe I love it

Trixie serving yet another look™😍

I’m so glad Trixie gave Babs her “blessing” & became good friends. So pure, we don’t need any more women being put against each other

“Fuzzy felt apostles” WHY AM I LAUGHING AT THAT? It’s not even funny?

Now the service for a nun we never knew, filled with extra nuns we will never know or care about.

I love that the nurses are at the service lol, like they probably don’t have to be but still there for fam

& Shelagh there wearin a mantilla, so sweet😭💕

“God hugs you” aw sister MC 😭❤️

You gotta admit even if you aren’t religious this show does make you feel some type of faith

“We knew so little then, in a world that seems so filled of opening doors and bright horizons. We thought only of what was new and better because it was new and better. And it would take us to places we had never been before.” VANESSA😭 she never fails with the narration, never.

Trixie helping Babs fix her bracelet bc there’s no hard feelings and she’s happy for them aw

“..We couldn’t see what was coming or understand yet what had already come to pass, yet so much still to learn”

Oh shit that foreshadow was heavy, especially because it ends with a shot of baby cottinghams body in the box.

I don’t think I picked up on that the first time ..                                     Anyway it’s 1:15am I should go to bed I have class in the morning 😭😂

The End.🙃

[dustin-parrish-blog]

Do You Need Help? | Dustin & Tad

Date: Tuesday, 3rd January 2017

The first day back at school after a holiday was always difficult, for both teachers and students. Nobody wanted to be there, certain people were still hungover, and everyone was used to sleeping in and being with their family. The first day back was a bleak reminder that there was still work to be done. Tad tried to make these days as easy as possible when he could, letting the kids do some review games and not giving them homework. Everyone was uncomfortable and on edge, and if he could help, why wouldn't he? However, this particular day, he was certain he was far more uncomfortable than the kids were. His stomach kept protesting and growling as though he'd skipped breakfast, and his joints had started to ache halfway to lunch. These pains had started shortly after he'd spent the night by the river where he released his frogs, making sure they were safe and not being eaten by some nocturnal beast. But today was worse, and he wondered if he was getting too old to just sleep outside like that, or if he'd contracted something while he slept. As soon as the lunch bell rang, he slowly made his way to the nurse's office, making every effort to appear like everything was fine as he entered. He gave the nurse a smile, and waved at her helper- he thought the kid was named Dustin? "Hello! Could I bother you for some advil? I think I'm getting too old for New Years." He laughed, then turned to Dustin. "Hello to you too. What are you doing in here?"

Today was the worst day ever. Literally. Worse than the day that his favourite jeans ripped, worse than the day that he failed an assignment due to a classmate’s prank involving a meme and worse than the day that Donald Trump became president. No, today was far worse. Today was the first day back at school after the break. The day had already started out great when he’d overslept after maybe getting three hours of sleep. After dragging himself to school without breakfast Dustin had promptly fallen back asleep during English class, leaving him with detention. On top of that, he suddenly remembered that he had agreed to help out in the nurse’s office today. Which was why he found himself spending the break with no one but the nurse, trying to stay awake as he sorted out medical supplies. So far, the break had been quiet, except for a few hungover students who pretended that their headaches were actual migraines and not, in fact, caused by drinking. Once he heard a familiar voice, Dustin’s head shot up, trying to find anything interesting to get him through the remaining time. Maybe someone was bleeding to death. That might wake him up a little. He was almost disappointed when the person coming in was no, in fact, bleeding or dying from an obscure illness. He seemed to just have a headache, judging by him asking for advil and his comment about the New Years. Dustin was very much familiar with this person. It was his Biology teacher, Dr. Jones. Dustin gave him a small smile. Biology didn’t suck half as much as most other subjects. “I’m actually a registered nurse, I graduated from college five years ago. The only reason you find me in your class sometimes is I get bored,” he joked and put down the box of tape he was holding. “You alright though? People don’t usually come in here unless they feel really unwell or they’re skipping class. And I doubt it’s the last option for you.” He grinned.

Tad would usually laugh at the kid's deadpan jokes, when he caught them, but today all he could manage was a chuckle, and even then, it hurt. "Well Nurse Dustin, that must be the reason half your assignments are late. Maybe I shouldn't grade them at all and just give you an A." He waved the kid off, rolling his neck. "I'm just a little sore. I did some field work over the break, and I think it's catching up to me now. Or at least, that's my story. You know how much I love getting out of class. Did you enjoy your break as much as I did?" He dry swallowed the pills, stomach grumbling slightly. This was going to get annoying fast. If he ate the kind of food they had in the school's vending machines, this problem could be solved, but he couldn't. He wished he could.

Dustin looked at his teacher in offense. "Well, some of them might be late, but at least all of them are fu- friggin' great, okay? Like, you don't see me half-ass an assignment. So I think it's okay if they are late. And also you can always give me an A so you don't even have to read them. This makes your job a lot easier, don't you think?" Dustin shrugged as he listened to him. "My break was pretty good. Not long enough though," he complaining, frowning when he saw Dr. Jones take the pills without any water. "You should always take pills with water, don't you know that?" he complained, walking over to the sink to fetch him a glass of water. "I'm not sure you're qualified to teach us Biology, actually." Was that a stomach grumbling? Definitely not his own, he'd stuffed his face with a brownie at the beginning of the break. "Uh, you shouldn't swallow those pills on an empty stomach, either." He pointed out.

"I'm teasing, Dustin. Keep doing your work and you'll get an A even if I do read them." The kid wasn't wrong. Tad was someone who valued quality, so he usually let it slide when assignments were late as long as they were done carefully. Sometimes certain students just needed a little longer to learn, and even more time to get it down on paper. That was just the way their brains worked, and stressing them out with deadlines wasn't going to help anything. That was his opinion, at least. "I don't think anyone wanted the break to end. But I'm glad it's over, since we're that much closer to spring. Everything will come out of hibernation, it'll warm up, and summer will come before we know it." Summer meant he could take the school's frogs and be a hermit for a few months. "You're a sweet boy. It just wants to talk today, even though I just fed it." He accepted the glass of water and drank it. Usually water would help regulate his system when something funny was going on, but when he'd drained the glass, it felt like nothing had made it down there at all. Strange. It reminded him of something... "Tell me again how long you've been helping here. Do you like it?"

Dustin frowned. "What do you mean, even if you do read them? Surely you're reading all essays we submit, right?" With some teachers though Dustin had the feeling that instead of reading and grading homework by quality they simply threw a dice and let fate decide about the grades. "Well, in that case, if the headmaster didn't even want break to end, they should have just prolonged it. Have a three-month Christmas break. That would be cool," he said. Spring and summer was indeed something to look forward to though. No longer would it be so cold he had to wear a coat outside. He frowned a little when he heard his teacher talk about his stomach as if it was a person, it just sounded a little strange. "Maybe you've not eaten enough?" he wondered aloud. "And, uh, I've been working here during some breaks since the beginning of this school year. I like it, really helps me learn how to treat simply injuries," he said with a smile. It was definitely helpful in addition to the healing magic he learnt at home. Several times he'd tried to use his magic on a few patients, but he'd always had to be careful not to get caught and so he could only use a little magic since anyone would get suspicious if they came in to treat a few bruises and have them magically disappear after a few minutes.

"Of course I am. What kind of teacher would I be if I didn't?" Sometimes he wished he didn't have to read their essays. Dustin was a good, comprehensive writer, but Tad couldn't say the same for his classmates. Sometimes he wanted to interrupt the english classes and demand someone teach the kids proper formatting. "I ate what I always eat..." It reminded him of all the times his cousins would act like they were starving, and then one of the older ones would scold them. They all had achey joints too. "That's a skill that you'll value your whole life." But, now that he thought about it, hadn't his cousins been infected with something? Something that had made them really sick? If he really concentrated, he could almost feel something squirming around in his gut. Great. His hand drifted up to his chest reflexively. "This might be a strange question, but do you know anything about... other ways of healing?"

Dustin raised his eyebrows. "A teacher who was getting tired of his job? A lazy teacher? I dunno." He rolled his eyes when his teacher said that he ate what he always ate. This was very much not specific at all. For all he knew, what he ate every morning could simply be a piece of gum or a single apple, which would explain his stomach noises. The last question confused him a little. There was no way that his teacher knew anything about his special interest in healing magic. He was so damn careful with anyone finding out. “Oh, you mean like homeopathy? I don’t believe in that kind of stuff. I mean, it’s completely impossible that only the traces of something can heal you.”

"Both, maybe." Tad cleared his throat. "No. I mean other ways. Something that might be considered strange by certain people." Even as he asked the question, he regretted it. He couldn't just ask him if he was involved in any nonhuman things in the middle of the school: it would be very unprofessional of him. Besides, even if he said yes, he couldn't exactly turn a magic tapeworm into a teaching moment. "Nevermind. I absolutely don't want to scare you, or... involve you in something you might not be ready to take part in. I'm going to visit the cafeteria for some salt. Please excuse me." With a smile, he bobbed his head and headed for the door. With any luck, he could have it out before lunch was over... the question was, could he still teach with salt poisoning? He could absolutely try.

Dustin frowned. His teacher absolutely could know that he was a warlock. There was nothing giving away his secret. Just because he was good at picking up skills from the school nurse didn’t mean that he was using his abilities to heal students. At least never in an obvious manner. Dustin was going to just ignore this, but then his teacher continued speaking and it was obvious something really weird was going on. He’d never seen one of the teachers act so strange. Something was up. Why the fuck was he talking about getting Dustin involved in something he wasn’t ready for? And what did he need salt for? “Wait,” Dustin said, frowning in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” Tad waved away Dustin’s frown, heading out the door and down the hall. Hopefully the kid would stay in the nurse’s office and not follow him. He could grab the salt, lock himself in his classroom, and be done with it. Of course, it would have been ideal if he could do this outside, but he didn’t have time to go running around in the forest today. By some miracle, he was able to sneak into the kitchens and grab a few full salt shakers without being stopped. He tucked them under his arm and walked confidently back to his classroom, like he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Dustin stared after the closed door of the nurse’s office for a while, puzzled by his teacher’s strange behaviour. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was really wrong, and his words hadn’t lessened his worry even one bit. “Nothing is wrong” - this is what he’d tell his mother whenever he got back a failed French exam are a spell he’d been practising in his room in secret had backfired. Nothing is wrong was the biggest lie he told in his daily life. He frowned. “Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I really need to do, I’ll be back in no time, all right?” Giving the nurse his most innocent look until she agreed that he could go, Dustin went back out into the hallway. No sign of his teacher. Damn. Luckily he didn’t have to search for too long because when he did find him, it was in his classroom. Dustin shut the door behind him.

Tad was in the middle of pouring the salt into a container he could more easily drink out of, one of his sinks steadily filling with cold water to help convince the thing to get out of him, when his door opened and closed. Shit. He jumped, spilling a good amount on the clean counter, his head jerking up to see who it was that had just come in. Of course it was Dustin. Why wouldn't it be Dustin? He appreciated the kid's tenacity and good heart, but he wasn't good at lying to make people leave him alone. "Dustin? Do you need something?" He kept his tone even, going back to preparing the salt. Maybe if he acted like he was just preparing a lab, the kid wouldn't be suspicious.

Dustin frowned at the sight in front of him, staring at his teacher in confusing. What was he doing with all those salt shakers? Why was he pouring salt into something else during the break? And why was the sink filling with water? He tried to think of any biology lesson that could explain this, but unless he was showing his students that objects floated in salt water - lame, if you asked him - there was really no explanation for this. "Yeah, like, an explanation for what you just said in the nurse's office. Like, when you were talking about scaring me, what did you mean?"

Tad took a breath through his nose as his stomach growled, louder than before, but he kept friendly for Dustin. "Did I say something about scaring you? I don't recall. Maybe we can talk after class, right now I'm setting up an experiment." He set down the salt- now carefully measured at a dose that would flush the thing out of his system while keeping salt lesions from being too deadly, hopefully- and pointed at the door. "Please. I'm going to take care of something and I seriously doubt you want to be around for it. Why don't you go back to the nurse's office?" It felt odd that he was asking a student to leave his classroom, both because it was a communal place of learning, and because he should have ordered it, being an authority figure. But he was, and if Dustin didn't leave soon, things were probably going to go downhill fast.

"Yeah you did. You did say something about me not being ready to take part in something," Dustin pointed out. He was about to go and leave him to do his experiment when he heard his teacher talk about doubting that Dustin wanted to be around for whatever it was he was going to do. He frowned. If this was a simple class experiment, why couldn't he be around for it? "Oh, can't I stay and watch you prepare the experiment? I love biology," he retorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Something fishy was going on here, he could practically smell it in the air.

"... oh. Well, if you insist on staying, you'll be part of it whether you like it or not." If the kid was dead set on staying, Tad couldn't force him to go. "If you insist, I'd appreciate your discretion. And I promise no harm will come to you, even if it gets a little ugly in here." What was he doing? He should be insisting that he leave, or just wait, or do anything except get rid of the parasite when Dustin was there. But on the other hand, maybe it would teach him a lesson about being too curious; if (when) he didn't like what he saw, and it could encourage him to be more respectful of people's privacy in the future. Hopefully that's all it would be, and not turn into a 'holy balls what are you call the wardens and start a witch hunt' thing. He made sure he gave Dustin an unhappy look. "This is your last chance to leave. Please consider it." With that, he calmly held the salt container, taking a deep breath before swallowing the portion down like he would a shot. It stung like acid, burning his tongue and throat as it made its way down; a few granules stuck to his lip, and he dabbed at it with a paper towel. It came away bloody.

Dustin narrowed his eyes at his words. What the fuck was going on here? Honestly, what the fuck? He’d seen a lot of teachers nearly lose their minds. This was high school, after all. Being trapped in a building with hundreds of teenagers had to affect them, too. But this was not like anything he’d seen before. “I’m not fucking leaving,” Dustin replied, arms crossed over his chest, both incredibly curious but also weirded out. He didn’t bother apologising for his swearing. This didn’t seem like a normal teacher-student conversation, not really. What was he going to do, give him detention? He wouldn’t leave now. He couldn’t leave now. Not before he knew what the hell was going on with his biology teacher. His eyes widened as he registered him swallowing the container full of something. Judging by the salt shakers on the desk, this could be salt. Or maybe it was something far worse? Fuck, salt was already pretty bad. When he dabbed at his lip with a paper towel, there was blood. Fuck. Taking in too much salt could kill you, Dustin knew. Wasn’t there the case of a child that had died after their mother had forced them to eat a cake made with salt instead of sugar? “What the fuck are you doing?!” His heart was beating loudly as he realised that maybe, this was what his teacher had been doing all along. This was him trying to kill himself. And if this wasn’t salt, then maybe it was something poisonous from the chemistry lab. A split second later, Dustin reached for his phone, struggling to unlock it so he could get help.

Tad breathed through his nose. The salt hit his stomach like he'd swallowed a bath bomb, all fizzy and stinging against him. Apparently the little critter liked salt about as much as he did, because it jerked away from the stuff instead of absorbing it. All was going well so far. But when Dustin raised his phone, the anxiety started to mount. Was he going to film him? "Please, put it away," he said, the words catching on the blood that was welling in his throat. Fuck, that hurt. "I'll explain when it's done." He peeled one of his gloves off and dipped his hand in the sink water, hoping the critter would get the idea and leave already. Luckily, it seemed to want to be parted with the salt just as much as he did, and started up his throat within seconds. He barely had time to put his hand to his mouth to catch it before it had exited fully. Outside his body it didn't look so evil. It just looked like a tiny person-shaped bundle of twigs that was just looking for food. Gently, he dropped it in the sink and watched it to make sure it was moving- he didn't want it to die, and he'd be setting it free where he found it as soon as the salt poisoning wore off. Then, he rinsed off his hand and put his glove back on, the tissue once again raised to his lips. He honestly had no idea what Dustin was going to think, and he couldn't really think of a lie to feed him. Shit.

“I’m just trying to get help!” Dustin explained loudly, getting more and more confused by the second. If he wanted to explain once it was done, he didn’t exactly plan on dying, did he? Watching his teacher put his hand into the water and then to his throat, he stepped closer despite several thoughts racing through his head telling him to get the fuck out of there and get someone who could deal with this. Peering into the sink, at first he thought that his teacher had accidentally swallowed an insect or a bug and then placed it into the sink, but this didn’t look like anything he’d seen before? It was tiny, as small as his thumb maybe, and looked like it was made out of tiny sticks. It was moving, too. “What the fuck is that thing?!” Dustin didn’t even register that he was swearing in front of a teacher. Eyes wide open, he stared at the moving, tiny creature. “Was that- did you just swallow salt? You’re aware that salt can poison you, right?”

Tad was much calmer now that the creature was out of him. What had his siblings called it again? "It's an Alp-Luachra, if you believe in that sort of thing. Otherwise it's just a funny-looking bug. There's no need to swear in my classroom." He sounded like an old man with pneumonia, his voice all raspy and thick and quiet. Maybe he'd show a movie today instead of lecturing. "I know it's poison. For some folk more than others." He cleared his throat and succeeded in bringing a good amount of blood into his mouth. In his stomach, he could feel the salt spreading and clinging to him, raising lesions and drawing even more blood. Shit. The last time he felt like this was when he ate those gummy worms that he'd stolen from his friend's lunch, way back when he was still in elementary school. He couldn't say he missed the it. "The show's over, I'm afraid. Why don't you show yourself out?" He tossed the bloody tissue into the trash and grabbed a new one, pressing it over his mouth again.

Dustin furrowed his brows. "If I believe in what sort of thing?" he questioned his teacher. He'd never heard of an Alp-Luachra before, but that didn't mean that it had to be supernatural. He'd never heard of a lot of small animal species before. "You just- you just took a shot of salt in front of your student and spit out that- that thing there, but I'm not allowed to swear in front of you?" Dustin huffed. Was he kidding him? His mouth opened again in shock as he realised how bloody that used tissue was. And there was no way he could help him. He didn't know a single thing about treating internal injuries or salt poisoning. "Hell no," he just mumbled and shook his head when he was told to leave. "You're bleeding. From your mouth. I'm not letting you die here. You need to see someone. Maybe the nurse."

What was the thing his siblings had said about it again? "It's little fae creature that sits in your stomach and eats what you swallow and gnaws on your joints. Or if you don't believe in that, it might very well be a strange kind of bug." He knew he was being cryptic, but he didn't have the energy to lie right now. "Yes, you're not allowed to swear at school," Tad huffed, "and I told you to leave several times. But you decided not to, so you got a front row seat. What, did it scare you? Did you not like what you saw? Then maybe you should have listened to me and left." He wasn't being malicious, or using a harsh tone, he was just trying to make sure the kid understood that there was a price to that curiosity. But, it was endearing that he was so stubborn about the whole thing. He chuckled, the noise grating around and bubbling in his throat. "I'm not dying from a little salt." But he also was bleeding from lots more places than his mouth. "And I'm absolutely not going back to the nurse. This will stop on its own no matter where I am, and in ten minutes, I have a class to teach. I believe you have a class to attend as well." Despite his efforts, his voice grew quieter and quieter the longer he spoke. Definitely a movie day, then.

Dustin frowned when his teacher mentioned the 'fae'. "So, like a tapeworm?" he asked him. "Except that it's supernatural, I assume. How do you know about this stuff, how did you know what it was exactly? Are you fae?" he wondered out loud. He didn't think anything would surprise him any more, least of all his biology teacher turning out to be some supernatural creature. Unless he was a warlock, too. Was that why he'd asked that strange question about alternative ways of healing in the nurse's office? Did he know that Dustin was involved with this kind of stuff? Did he have some sort of magic-dar? "What are you going to do, give me detention for swearing in front of you? I could always go to another teacher and tell them about this, you know," he bluffed. He would never tell another teacher, because that meant telling someone uninvolved about the supernatural, which went against everything his mother had been teaching him. "I'm not scared of that." He pointed at the sink. "But for a moment I thought you were killing yourself with that. I didn't even know for sure it was salt," he explained. He didn't want to leave, not yet. Not when his teacher was bleeding. He couldn't just leave him like that and get back to class. "But you're bleeding," he pointed out. "You should get your throat and stomach looked at. You could come up with a lie of swallowing something by accident, I don't know. But you shouldn't just ignore it."

Tad coughed in surprise when Dustin so casually asked him if he was fae, which probably ruined any credibility he had in denying everything. And he didn't say the word like it burned him, or like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "You're a brave kid, Dustin. I guess you deserve to know, since you're not scared. Yes, I am fae, and no, I don't eat people or lure them to their death. I teach high school." Still, he remained very aware of the dangers of admitting something like that out loud. "Salt doesn't mix well with my skin, as you can see. But I know how to treat it, and I don't want to be fussed over by the nurse." And he had no desire to sit through a 'treatment' that was probably pointless, or that he could do himself. The kid was right, he wasn't going to send him to detention for swearing. "Today, I won't send you to detention. But no promises for the future." He was joking. Especially now that Dustin had admitted he thought he was killing himself, which caught his attention. He wasn't going to commit suicide, but if he did, he wasn't going to do it at school, where he'd traumatize a bunch of students. What concerned him was why Dustin had jumped to that conclusion when he saw him swallow the salt. There were plenty of other explanations for it, but the one he chose had to reflect something, right? He smiled gently, eyes crinkling up behind his tissue. "Hey. Suicide isn't something that you need to worry about with me, okay? I appreciate your concern and willingness to help. Is suicide... something you think about a lot?"

Even though he'd just been called brave, Dustin still didn't like to be called 'kid'. Somehow, that word took away from the compliment. As if he was only brave for a 'kid', but not really brave. "I didn't think you were luring people to their deaths. I mean, I think I would have noticed it if your students started disappearing around you," Dustin replied. After just witnessing his teacher swallowing salt and swallowing up the supernatural version of a tapeworm, the admission that he wasn't human didn't strike him as something incredibly groundbreaking. He wasn't afraid of him. Maybe it was because he'd seen him almost every day at school during biology class and it seemed silly to be afraid of his teacher. "Well, I could still tell someone in the future..." Dustin mumbled. "And I really, really hate detentions." His eyes shot open at his teacher's next question, frowning at the look on his face. "It's not," he answered truthfully. "I only ever really think about it when a teacher of mine acts super eratically, bolts to his classroom, tries to get me out of it countless times while assuring me everything's fine when it's not, then warns me that if I stay I'll be 'part of it' before swallowing some stuff I don't quite recognise." He shook his head. There was no reason why his first thought when seeing everything happen had to be 'oh, I bet he's got some fae parasite living inside him and he's trying to get rid of it with salt'.

Who says I'd be targeting high school students, Tad almost said, but thought better of it. There was only so much talk about killing and methods, however hypothetical, he could allow when his partner in conversation was underage and one of his students. "I trust that you won't tell anyone, even though it's true you could." He knew his nature would be kept secret; Dustin didn't seem to be surprised to hear it, and he obviously knew enough about nonhumans to mention fae, so Tad guessed he was either nonhuman or a gifted human. Or he was close to one. He winced at the description of his earlier actions. Hadn't he been more subtle than that? Obviously not subtle enough. "Okay, that's fair. Um, sorry for scaring you. But the worst is over and this guy," he motioned to the sink, "is going back to the river tonight." Or maybe tomorrow evening. He didn't feel like tramping around in the river tonight, though maybe a soak in the natural water would help him feel better... he definitely needed to rehydrate after all this blood and salt. "And I need to find a movie for the class to watch. Do you have a recommendation?"

Dustin shook his head. "Yeah no, I won't tell. Unless there's going to be a good reason to tell someone." He didn't say out loud that he would of course tell someone if his teacher endangered another student. Or if anything weird was going on. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're not dead," he replied, frowning when he heard that the creature would be going back out to the river soon. "Isn't it going to get inside another person and cause harm there?" he wanted to know. "I'm not saying you should kill it or anything, but maybe keep it safe and locked up so this can't happen to anyone else?" He suggested. He wondered if his teacher meant actual movies or biology documentaries, though probably the first since why would he ask Dustin about documentaries? "Uh, Blue is the warmest colour is a nice French coming-of-age movie," Dustin told him with a smile, not mentioning that at some point, he'd heard there were fairly graphic lesbian sex scenes. It would be hilarious if he showed the movie to class not knowing about what was to come. And his biology teacher fully deserved that after making him miss most of his break.

"Thank you for understanding." Tad hoped he hadn't made a mistake, letting Dustin know about his nature. He shook his head. "There's no reason to not let it free. It's not really that dangerous, and I'm sure it has a place in the ecosystem it came from. And I don't think it would get along well with my frogs if I took it home with me." Not to mention he didn't want it anywhere near him; he didn't wish it any harm, but he needed it to be gone. "But if you want to keep it, I don't have any objections." For a second, he believed that Dustin was giving him a wholesome recommendation, but something about the set of his mouth and the glint in his eye told him it was a bad idea. Instead, he waved his hand. "Documentary it is. I'll let you watch David Attenborough's frog film. It'll be a nice treat, don't you think?" The guy's gentle demeanor with the animals and soothing voice automatically made anything he produced among Tad's favorite documentaries. He was pretty sure there was a copy of 'Fabulous Frogs' in the school's library. All he needed to do was write it on a sticky note for the sub to go get it and he'd be free to sneak out. Being home and safe sounded great right now. He cleared his throat one last time, grimacing when it stung and bubbled. "Right. I should be going, and so should you. I appreciate your help."

Dustin frowned. "Not dangerous? But it was in your stomach, was it not?" He didn't see some parasite that could get inside people's stomach was not considered dangerous. What had his teacher called it again? Maybe he could find out more about it on the internet. For a split moment, Dustin was tempted to say that he wanted to keep it, but then he thought better of it. He didn't know if this thing could escape glass or anything else he would have to keep it in. And he couldn't risk Lea getting infected with it. He mentally groaned at his teacher's response to his movie "recommendation". First of all, it was disappointing that his little prank hadn't worked, but also he really didn't feel like watching a movie about frogs. Animal and plant biology was his least favourite part of biology. He much preferred human biology as it was actually useful for when he practised healing. "Right, that'll be awesome, for sure," he replied, turning towards the door. He better had to get back to the nurse's office and explain where he went. How would he excuse his absence? Maybe he could just say that he'd gotten sudden stomach problems. "Uh, no problem? And don't worry, I really won't tell anyone about what happened." He wasn't sure he had actually been of any help at all. It had all happened so fast.

[ultimatestudyabroad]

This Sucks

Note – I wrote this in November and December, when I was at a particularly low point in my job searching despair (there have been several, including now). I didn’t publish it at the time because I felt it wouldn’t be good to have this in the public domain while I was still looking for a job, but since coronavirus has paused all job searches and it seems I will never again have gainful employment, I figure, what the hell? Maybe it will be cathartic to get my frustration out into the universe.

My happiness from a year ago feels like a dream. Facebook reminds me that a year ago I was on a mini-holiday in Port Douglas with friends, marking essays for the class I was teaching in between snorkeling sessions and gin and tonics. My day-to-day life was luxuriously full of reading and writing; my weekends full of concerts and shows, trips to the beach, and dinners with friends. And though my financial subsistence was meagre, I had regular income and I had established a budget that allowed me to live without worrying about money all that often. And above all, I felt like the best, happiest version of myself. This was a life I had intentionally built for myself through meticulous planning and more than a bit of luck. It was everything I had ever hoped it would be.

That luck has run out. From the beginning, I knew that my life in Australia was but temporary and, if you read this blog regularly, you know that I was very concerned with whether, upon return to the U.S., I’d be able to build a better life there than I had had before Australia. Certainly not as happy as I was in Sydney, but hopefully happier than before I left. Instead, I have no life. Four-and-a-half months since I’ve returned to the U.S. (now 11 months) and a full nine months since my first administrative job application was submitted (now 15), I still have no job and no immediate job prospects. Applications are out, sure, but the hiring process in higher ed usually takes months (and now it is non-existent because of coronavirus). The money I so carefully saved throughout my time in Sydney for this period of transition is gone. I’m still relying on the kindness of friends and family to house me and Hibby. I have no job, I have no steady income, I have no home, I have no future, and I have absolutely no idea when (or if) it will ever end.

Now, before people start thinking to themselves, “the academic job market is brutal” or “it took me years to get an academic job,” I want to be clear that I am not searching for an academic job. I made an attempt at the academic job market in the (northern hemisphere) fall of 2018, applying for about 15 postdocs, short-term though multi-year teaching gigs, and tenure-track positions. My expectations were low, so I was not really surprised when absolutely nothing came of these.

So, when February 2019 rolled around and the thesis due date drew near, I turned my attention to what had been my realistic plan all along: re-enter my former career in higher ed administration. Given my decade-plus experience in the field and wealth of contacts, I didn’t think this would be too terribly difficult. I knew that job searches in higher ed take forever and I had saved accordingly. I also knew that mid-level jobs (in between entry-level and assistant vice provost level) are harder to come by, but I was/am willing to be flexible geographically. (For crying out loud, I applied to two jobs at the University of Wisconsin! I would freeze my ass off there!) But, I never in my wildest dreams imagined it would possibly take this long.

It’s not that I’m directionless, a young professional trying to find her niche; I know exactly what my field is. It’s not that I’m being too choosy; I’ve applied for 60 admin jobs. It’s not that I’m choosing inappropriate jobs for my experience; I’ve had phone interviews for over a third of the jobs I’ve applied for. I’ve been a finalist for two jobs (neither one of which I got, obviously). My application materials are good. I’ve been to this rodeo a number of times before; I know how to do this. Still nothing…

I have friends who try to offer explanations and, while I know and appreciate that they’re trying to be supportive, their explanations don’t help because they, much like the process itself, are nonsensical and contradictory. I’ve been told, “it’s all in who you know.” Well, again, I fucking know everyone at Duke and, after nine applications there, I’ve only had two phone interviews! I’ve been told, “you have to leave Duke and come back to work your way up.” Silly me, I thought moving to the other side of the planet for 3.5 years was leaving Duke. I’ve been told that my PhD is holding me back, never mind the fact that many of the jobs I’ve applied for are PhD-preferred or -required. And never mind the fact that a big part of the reason I decided to do the PhD in the first place (even though I had my eyes wide open about the state of the academic job market) was because I was told again and again that I would need a PhD to advance much past my former position. In fact, my former position was PhD-preferred. I was the only one on the team without a PhD and I had to endure all sorts of snide comments about “non-intellectuals” (to be clear, not from my colleagues but from higher administrators and faculty). Since I wanted to do the PhD anyway, just for myself, I decided to go for it. Not having the PhD held me back, but apparently having it also holds me back?

Well, you see, one helpful explanation goes, I chose to do an academic PhD, in a discipline as opposed to an EdD or PhD in higher ed. What the fuck? First, I sat on several hiring committees in my last job in which people with higher ed degrees were sneered at. Secondly, I chose a discipline because that’s the subject that interested me enough to devote three years of my life to it. I love working with undergraduates, but I don’t want to study the little bastards! Oh, but don’t you see, since you have an academic PhD, hiring managers will assume you’re not serious about the role and will leave as soon as you get an academic job. FFFUUUUUUCCKKK MMMMEEEEE! That’s not going to happen! There aren’t any academic jobs!

As much as I want to dismiss this no-win point of view on the PhD, I know that, at least at times, it’s completely true. People in administration seem completely oblivious to the casualization crisis in academia. This blows my mind, since we all work in the same damn industry. Even so, I’m prepared for the “why did you do a PhD” question and have my polished (and completely honest!) answer prepared. And that was the verbal answer I gave to one particularly annoying iteration of that question, but my mental response was quite a bit different. The question was posed along the lines of, “I see you just got a PhD. I want to make sure you understand that this is not a teaching job.” The polished answer came out of my mouth while the snarky, bitchy, fed-up Mel voice in the back of my mind responded, “Yes, I know that. Because 1. I can fucking read. 2. I wrote a whole cover letter which demonstrated I knew exactly what the job is. And 3. There are no teaching jobs!”

I feel frustrated even when talking to people who support me. The frustration brought on by hiring managers is exponentially worse. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve seen a number of frustrated tweets about the lack of follow up after interviews. Of that one-third of the jobs I’ve applied for in which I’ve had phone interviews, only THREE hiring managers have done me the courtesy of emailing me to let me know I was not advancing to an in-person interview. One school didn’t send me my generic rejection email until eight months after my phone interview. Two places I had phone interviews (both in 2019) still haven’t contacted me at all. Now, reader, don’t give me any bullshit about the number of applications received for the average job or how busy everyone is. I’m not complaining about the mass rejection email from HR I get for jobs I don’t get an interview for. I’m talking about a hiring committee doing 6-7 phone interviews and inviting three of those people to campus for an in-person interview while never bothering to send 3-4 emails to the other interviewees! It does not take much time to send 3-4 identical emails that say, “Thank you for speaking with us last week about the position. Unfortunately, you were not selected for an in-person interview, but we wish you the best of luck in your search.” See? I just did it! That took like 30 seconds! By November, I was over this shit. Two weeks after a phone interview, I sent a polite email asking for a status update. Which was completely ignored! On what planet is that acceptable?

Here’s another little lesson in human decency for hiring managers: don’t call people’s references unless you plan to offer them the job. Because when someone’s references are contacted, they assume they’re about to get a job offer. Those two jobs I was a finalist for? They were at the same school and they contacted my references twice. Same people, 1.5 months apart! If you feel so compelled to call references on multiple people, be transparent. Send an email to the candidates saying , “FYI - we’re checking references on both of our finalists.” (And btw, where are you getting all this time to make all these phone calls, anyway? I thought you didn’t have time to send 3-4 emails to the rejected phone interview candidates!)

Piled on top of my frustration, despair, rapidly eroding self-esteem, and bank account anxiety is guilt. Guilt over being annoyed with my friends who are incapable of cheering me up in the face of a hopeless situation. Guilt over assuring undergrads in my temp advising job that they will be able to find jobs after they graduate (I know it’s my job to calm them down, but seriously, how hypocritical can I possibly be?!). Guilt over that panel on non-academic jobs I organized at the 2018 AHA. The one where I told everyone that administration jobs are rewarding and realistic. Ha! If I, with all my experience, can’t find a job, can a newly minted PhD in his/her mid-late 20s who went straight from undergrad to grad school really expect to find one? Without being dismissed as only wanting an academic job? I apologize to all the folks at that panel. Your post-grad rep (unwittingly) lied to you!

I am obviously in a very dark place right now. That’s not to say I regret doing my PhD. Not at all. Not for a moment. This was the best three years of my life. I’m proud of the research I did. I am an infinitely better person than I was four years ago. But someone just needs to give me a fucking job.