#it's for a technical writing internship which IS what I want to go into

[e77y]

It's just me and my plush carrot against the world

[girlfromthecrypt]

So someone asked whether the MC will be forced to like the kids to get with the ROs, and another person a while back wanted to know whether MC could be a "bitchy" camp counselor. This is generally kind of important so I figured I'd write a post about it, for anyone who's wondering.

If you can't stand kids and can't stand reading about them, that's valid, and I promise I don't judge. Lord knows kids are difficult. But if you cannot stand them, this probably isn't the game for you.

You don't have to adore the kids. But you have to be kind to them. Not just to get with the ROs... But also, to keep your job!! Fun!

The SHC MC is not a listless teenager who got ordered by their parents to be a counselor at a summer camp. They're a full-fledged adult, likely in their late twenties or thirties. They're also likely to have either studied some educational subject or have training and experience in education. They do the kid-stuff for a living. THEY GET PAID FOR IT.

I've decided for the MC to be able to reject the children in some ways. You can tell Javier to leave you alone in the kitchen, later in chapter 4 you can reject a flower Gabriel wants to give you... Stuff like that. Nothing extreme, but little things to show MC might not actually care very much about the campers.

This will leave an impression.

A) The kids will lose all possible respect and trust towards you. Might not be a great loss, depending on your stance on them.

B) The ROs will be wondering what the hell you're doing. Let me go into why that's the case:

Basil volunteered. He has a hundred siblings which he adores. He loves kids!

Reem is a literal teacher. She's around kids all the time. She gets if MC is exhausted by them, but if they act straight up hostile towards the kids, she will be very open about her disapproval.

Flo--- same thing. Just because he's sometimes very deadpan doesn't mean he doesn't care. Apart from teaching children for a living, he has had a very troubled childhood and relates to the campers. He wants them to be happy.

Anita is a psychology student. Sure, that doesn't exempt her from hating kids technically, but even though they stress her out, she actually rather likes them, too. Enough to want to do her internship at Cloverleaf.

And C) if George sees you being openly hostile to the kids, he might just reconsider your status of employment.

To reiterate: If you can't stand kids and can't stand reading about them, that's valid, but this probably isn't the game for you.

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth

chapter 1: suffocation.

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read that, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, mutilation, death, & animal death. the animal death is pretty detailed, so please don't read this fic if you're triggered by that kind of topic.

author's notes: This first chapter is a little bit of a mess imo, but I wanted to post it to assure you all that I don’t want to abandon this fic. It may take me longer to post and update chapters, especially since I graduated from uni (mwahahah) and my schedule may get busy. Still, I really enjoy writing this story—and you all seem to enjoy reading it. Both of those things are enough to keep me going.

Something extremely ironic happened around the time I was writing the last few chapters of Act 1. So… if you remember, in Chapter 6, Hannibal and the reader go on an opera date (of sorts). During that date, the reader remarks that they “don’t know the first thing about opera.” Those words were pretty much taken directly from my mouth. Fast forward to about mid-fall, I get a call for an interview for an internship. I end up doing the first interview, then a second interview… Then I get the internship. The irony? This internship is at an opera house. (What’s even more ironic is that I’m now getting to the point where I do actually know things about opera—I know different productions and directors and technical terms… It’s absolutely crazy. The universe is making me eat my words, lol.

To make matters even stranger, I was in the office for the internship one day and caught a glimpse of a television, which broadcasts what’s happening on the stage. Imagine my absolute surprise and fear when I look up at the television screen with absolutely no expectations and see a single man in a beige jumpsuit with something over his face standing on stage, his shadow silhouetted against the wall behind him. Imagine my surprise when I see that, not only is he standing in an enclosure with iron bars (just like the ones at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane), but it also looks as if he is staring right at me—and he looks exactly like Hannibal Lecter in captivity. It was simultaneously scary as hell and weirdly reassuring. Anyway, I’ve taken these experiences as cosmic confirmation that I should continue writing this fic. Lol.

Anyway. Back to the important things… I’m planning to borrow elements from both Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon, but, similarly to the first act, there will be canon divergence and canon non-compliance. Also, as you probably discerned in the past act, there is some plot armor. But, this is fiction.

Your life currently takes two forms: before the Chesapeake Ripper… and after. 

Before the Ripper, the leaf-stained pavement of the Bureau filled you with hope. Walking through the agency’s halls was a testament to the hard work that brought you there. Each assignment was an invaluable opportunity to further develop your interrogation and combat skills. You went to classes, completed assignments, trained, slept, and repeated the cycle the next day. Over and over and over again. But you were happy. 

Life doesn’t feel so simple anymore. You feel like you’ve been fading for a while now, slowly deteriorating as you invest more and more energy into catching criminals. Your work has morphed into an exhausting mutual exchange, one in which you take murderers’ freedom and they take your restful nights. You can’t remember the last time you rested unencumbered by the horrors you’ve seen in the field.

By some miracle, Jack manages to keep the press relatively uninformed about the happenings behind the Ripper case. Everyone is too absorbed with the fact that Hannibal’s in captivity to remember to ask just how he got there, and you’re very grateful for that lapse in memory. You can just imagine the interactions you’d have with paparazzi. Is it true that he stabbed you? Is it true that he purposefully left you alive, only to surrender in your front yard and torment you with the constant knowledge that he will remain in the same place, lying in wait until the moment you will inevitably need him? You shudder. 

Even with all the chaos that comes from the Ripper case—the media coverage of Hannibal and the attention the FBI gets—life goes on. Back at the Bureau, you occasionally lecture the new recruits and you take on assignments along with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Jack is still wont to call on you at the most ungodly of hours; Beverly still trades lighthearted taunts with you; Brian Zeller still seems to hate your guts, for reasons you’re not quite sure of; Alana and you are back to a steady friendship, albeit with occasional beats of unexplained tension and awkward silence. 

Criminality continues to occur in the Ripper’s wake. You’re not surprised: the imprisonment of one criminal doesn’t beget the imprisonment of another. Even so, it’s difficult for you to proceed as if things are normal. You see traces of Hannibal in each of the monsters you apprehend. Your emotions are starting to eat you alive from the inside. You don’t have a therapist to assist you with those emotions anymore. And, while you think therapy would be helpful, you also know that there’s no way in hell you’d be able to actually be honest with a therapist without being imprisoned yourself. The things you’ve done and the urges you’ve felt…  Neither is even close to a semblance of normality. 

You take a deep breath. You have no issue stopping other criminals, sending them to empty white walls and thin mattresses. Why was Hannibal Lecter any different? You suppose you shouldn’t fool yourself—you know the answer to that question already: you got to know him. Beyond the mask of the Ripper, beyond the bloodied skin and cruel smile… You started to see him as a man, perhaps even a friend. Perhaps, even-

You tear yourself away from that thought process before it gets too far along. The semantics don’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re back in the field, back popping pills for your headaches and blinking fresh horrors from your eyes. All that matters is that the memory of Hannibal Lecter begins to fade away in the face of work— so much so that keeping busy helps you forget the pain. 

Meanwhile, a hundred miles away, a veterinarian walks into a stable under a farmer’s guidance. The two stand over a dead horse and the veterinarian frowns. The farmer explains the horse’s death before stepping aside, letting the professional work. 

The farmer quickly becomes lost in their thoughts. They hadn’t expected the horse to die in the middle of her pregnancy. The farmer swallows past the tightness in their throat and tears their eyes away from the horse. They were looking forward to the birth of the foal, looking forward to helping the mother raise her offspring. The stable air suddenly feels suffocating and they take a look at the veterinarian’s turned back before stepping outside to get some fresh air. 

Moments later, the veterinarian rejoins them. The doctor’s lips are drawn in a tight line and there’s a troubled expression on their face. The farmer feels any remaining composure promptly seep out of them, as the veterinarian suggests they come back into the stable. 

“It feels like there’s something here,” the veterinarian says, their expression conflicted. They touch the horse’s womb with a gloved hand and frown. 

“She was pregnant,” the farmer chokes out, their throat feeling tight again. It hurts to utter the words aloud.

“With twins?” The veterinarian asks, turning around to look at them. 

“No, just one baby,” the farmer shakes their head. Why would they ask about twins? Surely, they don’t feel another baby in the womb. The thought of two deaths is morbid and distressing enough, but three? The farmer inhales shakily. 

“There’s… something else here.” The veterinarian remarks, their face contorting as they feel the horse’s womb once more. They turn back to look at the farmer for assistance. The farmer feels a horrible, inexplicable sense of foreboding crawling up their skin. Despite that feeling, they nod to the veterinarian. The doctor nods in response and turns to the horse’s womb, before making an incision.

The veterinarian unearths the dead foal and places it on the nearby hay with infinite gentleness. The farmer’s chest begins to hurt as they come to terms with the sight before them. Their pain doesn’t end there, however. The veterinarian continues slicing along the skin before stopping and glancing back at them inexplicably. It’s as if they’re waiting for permission to continue. The farmer appreciates the gesture and they nod in affirmation. This mystery needs to be put to rest. 

The veterinarian inhales sharply, sending the farmer’s heart racing. The farmer prompts them to step aside, revealing the horse’s womb. There’s… something there. The farmer squints at it, a gasp ripping its way from their lips as they realize just what they’re looking at. A human corpse lies on the stable floor, a stark shock of muted crimson against the golden strands of hay. The farmer brings a shaking hand to their pocket and calls the police. 

Unaware of these occurrences, you slowly exhale and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. You busy yourself with grading your students’ papers, and you don’t learn of the corpse until a few hours later, when the medicine begins to kick in and you’re foolishly convinced that you’ll be fine. Before you can leave for the day, Jack is walking up to you and beckoning you to the lab. The two of you grab Beverly along the way, which leaves the three of you to enter the laboratory that Price and Zeller are currently situated in. When you walk in, you’re immediately assaulted with the scent of formaldehyde. Price explains the situation behind the corpse, how a veterinarian found the body within the womb of a horse. The notion is strikingly similar to the other deaths by suffocation that have been eluding the BAU for several weeks. Jack seems to think the same thing, as he rattles off what he knows so far about the killer. You add things here and there—small things you can notice from the state of the corpse itself—before Price gets the group back on track. 

“I called you here because…” Price trails off, frowning before readjusting his stethoscope and placing it on the victim’s chest once more. The room is deathly silent as he concentrates. “...There’s a heartbeat.”

“That doesn’t come with the onset of rigor mortis—we all know that,” Zeller continues, looking down at the corpse with a somewhat puzzled expression. He seems to sense you staring and looks up, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze meets yours. “She’s dead.” He announces with complete certainty. 

“She was found in the womb of the horse?” Beverly asks. Everyone else nods and she pauses for a moment. “Make an incision and check the chest cavity.” There’s an unshakeable certainty in her voice and it throws you off for a moment, before you realize what she’s getting at. It’s not unfathomable that something was buried within the victim’s chest cavity. Suffocation seems to be a common theme with this killer. Did they put some sort of dead animal in the corpse? The thought makes your stomach turn. 

“Alright,” Price acquiesces, after glancing at Jack for approval. Crawford nods, evidently attributing value to Beverly’s suggestion. The four of you—Crawford, Beverly, Zeller, and you—watch as Price leans in and makes a careful incision in the chest. For several moments, there’s nothing but a tense silence in the air as Jimmy works. The quiet is broken a few seconds later when Price takes a sharp breath. “I saw something.” 

“Keep going,” Jack demands, bringing Jimmy’s attention back to the task at hand. Price nods and makes the incision a little bigger. All of you are watching in anticipation, waiting for something you’re not quite sure will appear. 

All of a sudden, there’s a flash of motion. A yellow blur flits about the cavity, before reaching upwards and extending its wings to fly out. You watch in disbelief as the bloodstained bird stretches its wings and flies about the lab, colliding with the sheen of the fluorescent lighting and sending shadows flickering along the floor.

Jack is the first one to respond. He quickly paces over to the small window located near the ceiling and opens it, allowing the bird an escape. For a few moments, the bird doesn’t seem to notice: it’s too overwhelmed with the sudden change in environment to comprehend that it has just been granted an escape. It has a chance at true freedom, but it’s too busy taking in the laboratory’s flimsy promises to notice. The bird eventually notices the open window and flies out of it, before Jack closes the laboratory off from the outside world once more. 

The group begins discussing what just occurred, but your mind is elsewhere. You feel a strange sort of kinship with the bird: suffocated beneath rows of ribs and walls of tissue and skin; banished to the space between; too taken with the small allowances to notice freedom within reach. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Your headache is returning, as pressure builds up in your temples and constricts your very skin. It’s significantly harder to breathe. Every time you blink, you’re greeted with the memory of that bright yellow bird bursting from its confines, greeting the stale laboratory air with beating wings. You step outside the lab to get some fresh air, trading your smaller prison for a bigger one—just as the bird did mere moments ago. 

It doesn’t take long for Jack to find you. After all, you’re not hidden—you’re simply leaning against the wall in the hallway that leads to the laboratory. Jack strides up to you, his hands in his pockets and that familiar tight line drawn across his face. You suspect he’ll get wrinkles a lot sooner than everyone else his age—sheerly because of all the responsibility he holds and the pressure he’s forced to perform under. It must be exhausting to be the one calling the shots in these horrible situations. You had always assumed Jack had the easy job, but looking at him now, you think that assumption must be incorrect. He is suffering, just as you are. Perhaps… Jack has just grown better at hiding it. 

The thought makes Jack’s remark slip in one ear and right out the other. You ask him to repeat himself and he sighs. “We need to go to the stable where the corpse was found. There are several police officers there already, but…” But we need to do a more thorough investigation , he doesn’t say. You hear him anyway and nod. Jack walks past you and paces purposefully down the hall, not even bothering to look and see if you’re following him. Perhaps he already knows you will follow him. 

What follows is an awkward car ride. Neither of the two of you attempt to break the tense silence, leaving a suffocating air of uncertainty and indecision. You don’t know what to say to Jack, so you instead busy yourself with looking out the window. You resolutely pretend not to notice your boss’s gaze repeatedly flitting over to you and, after a painful amount of time, Jack is driving up the gravel path that leads to a modest farmhouse and a beautiful wooden stable. 

The place is already crawling with police officers and FBI agents. Unfortunately, the police were the first ones to be informed of the case, which means the FBI is forced to share jurisdiction with them. You know Jack isn’t too happy about that, especially once you see the frown on his face as he watches the police officers clumsily investigate. They don’t have the right training for a situation like this and Jack is delighted to inform them of that fact—albeit with much more sugar coated wording than you would have utilized. A few minutes later, the cops are gone, leaving Jack, you, and the set of agents that Jack requested to follow after your car on the drive over. The other agents are quick to secure the crime scene, while Jack and you decide to explore the premises a little first. 

The property features a small, rather unremarkable house with slightly dirty bricks and a well-loved bench swing on the porch. The front door is agape, revealing hardwood flooring and items strewn about. Jack and you exchange a glance before walking into the home. You don’t see any sign of life until you reach the kitchen and come across an older woman sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea. You’re quick to show your badge and explain the situation to her. She doesn’t seem to have a great idea of what’s going on, so you eventually decide to leave her be and keep looking about the property. 

Next to the house is a rather large stable, complete with several different stalls and a wide variety of tools. You have no idea what half of the tools could possibly be used for, but the majority of them look as if they’ve been used at least once. There are bales of hay in the corner of the room and various accessories hanging near the post of each horse’s stall. There are only a few horses in the stable—you think you could’ve seen a few in the pastures out back earlier. There’s a horrible stench pervading the air, and it’s not the typical odor that comes from a farm. It’s the smell of death. You look at Jack and he nods, inclining his head and gesturing for you to continue exploring the stable. It isn’t until you reach the last stall—one that is inexplicably larger than the rest—that you find the source of the stench. The rotted corpse of the horse rests at the back of the stall, the womb flayed open. The organs have been removed, but the smell of decay remains. Surprisingly enough, you’re not alone in this stall. A brown-haired man sits cross-legged on the floor next to the horse, a blank expression on his face. 

“...Hello?” You decide to try. There’s no response. “Excuse me?” Still no response. 

You glance at Jack and he raises his eyebrows, before turning to the stranger. “You must be Peter Bernardone,” Jack remarks. The mention of the man’s name seems to be enough to get his attention. On second thought, you remember Jack offhandedly mentioning that there may be a stablehand on site. It seems you’ve found him. 

“That’s me,” the man replies flatly, staring ahead with glassy eyes. He looks as if he’s on an entirely different plane of existence, as he looks at the wall ahead of him with enough intensity to melt it.

“Jack Crawford, FBI,” Jack answers with an introduction of his own. He flashes his badge for a moment before putting it away. You can’t tell if Peter is even paying attention, but you do the same to make him more comfortable. “We’re just here to ask you some questions.”

“I want to talk,” Peter murmurs quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard. He pulls his knees up to his chest; his eyes haven’t strayed from the corpse of the animal in front of him. You feel your chest constrict a little at the sight. 

“Good,” Jack responds with a nod. 

“...To you,” Peter finishes with a gesture. To your complete surprise, he doesn’t point at Jack—he’s pointing at you. Jack blinks in equal surprise, looking at you for answers. You send him a helpless look. At first, you’re not sure why you seem more trustworthy than Jack. Then you remember Jack’s position and the intimidating aura he tends to give off. You think you’d want to talk to someone like yourself too, were you in Peter’s situation. 

“Alright,” you agree. You don’t see the harm in having a conversation. You need information and, more importantly, answers. Jack stares at you for a long few seconds, before exhaling in evident exasperation. 

“I’ll be outside,” Jack promises, before walking away. You wait until Jack is out of sight before you take a step closer to Peter, placing your hands in your pockets. 

“What do you do here, Peter?” You hear yourself ask. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears. 

“I volunteer here,” Peter responds, still facing the corpse. His voice sounds hollow, empty. “Sometimes.” 

“Did you… know this horse?” You ask hesitantly, looking down at the corpse.

“Yes,” Peter answers without hesitation. There’s a hint of emotion in his voice now.  

“Ridden her before?”

“I don’t ride the horses,” Peter replies, “I just like to brush them.” 

“Okay,” you acknowledge. You begin pacing around the stall in an attempt to calm your restless nerves. “Peter, were you here on the day that the veterinarian visited?” Jack had briefed you on the circumstances of the horse’s death, how a veterinarian had been called to investigate before the corpse was found in the womb. 

“I don’t remember a veterinarian,” he stares ahead with a frown. 

“That’s fine,” you answer. He may not have been there that day. “The veterinarian was the one who cut open the womb and found the corpse… Did you know this horse was pregnant?”

At that question, Peter turns around and stares at you. His hollow gaze is enough to send a shiver down your spine. For a moment, he just stares at you, before huffing in amusement. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” you echo. You suppose that was a rather dumb question on your part. “Were you… sad about the foal?”

“Of course,” Peter huffs again. “Why do you think I’m sitting here?” This discussion isn’t getting you very far. 

“Fine,” you acquiesce. You take a deep breath. “This doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I’m going to give you my extension, and if you ever feel like talking about what happened, you can call me, okay?” Thankfully, you know for certain that Peter isn’t the killer—the psychological profile you built on this murderer tells you that much. Jack clearly doesn’t think Peter is the killer either, and those two facts are enough for you to rule him out as a suspect. However, you’re still contemplating the possibility of him tampering with the crime scene. 

Peter clears his throat pointedly and you remember what you were supposed to be doing. You grab a notepad from your jacket pocket and quickly scrawl down the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s phone number, followed by the extension to your office phone. You take a step closer and hold it out to Peter. For a fraction of a moment, you think he won’t take it. Just before you can pull your hand back, he takes the paper and slips it into his pocket. 

You turn on your heel and take a step towards the door of the stall, fully intent on leaving, when the door falls open of its own accord. Jack Crawford stands in the doorway, staring at you. 

“Good, Agent,” Jack remarks. This must be important. “We have a lead,” he says vaguely, his eyes falling to Peter. You can’t discuss confidential information here—the details will have to wait until you’re both in the car.

“Excellent,” you remark in relief. “I’ll meet you at the car?” You can sense that Peter’s attention is piqued. Maybe you can still get something out of him. Jack nods and walks away once more. You then turn to Peter, who has turned his body away from the horse to face you. Somehow, he’s intrigued now. Something has caught his eye. “Sorry, Peter,” you apologize, taking a step backwards and emphasizing that you’re a moment away from leaving, “I have to go.”

“What is it?” Peter asks, “Did you find him?”

“It’s classified, I’m sorry,” you respond, ignoring the inexplicable sound of alarm bells blaring in your head. Peter isn’t the killer. “But we’re tracking down this killer. I promise he’ll be put away.”

“You promise?” Peter asks, a dangerous conviction in his eyes. 

“Yes,” you respond without hesitation. You don’t have the authority to make that kind of promise, but you do anyway. The sincerity in your expression must convince Peter, because he takes a slow breath and the tension seems to fade from his form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Peter. It was nice to meet you.” Peter says the same and you turn to leave the stable. 

“Price and Zeller found soil in the corpse’s throat,” Jack recounts to you as he drives along the highway, moving at a comfortable speed. His eyes are fixed on the road, but he recalls his conversation with Price with perfect consistency. “We traced it to a burial site about thirty minutes from here.”

“Great,” you remark, relief coursing through you. To your surprise, Jack doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply nods ever so slightly and continues staring ahead. Now, it seems as if he’s avoiding something. “What is it?” You ask. Something seems off about him. 

“You may want to brace yourself,” Jack warns vaguely. 

“Why?” You hear yourself question. Jack doesn’t answer, and he’s quiet for the rest of the car ride. When the two of you pull up to the supposed burial site, you’re filled with trepidation. This job always comes with the knowledge that blood and gore could be waiting at every corner. That’s the normal day for an agent. So… why does Jack feel the need to warn you? You grapple with the prospect as the two of you leave the car and join the group of agents circled around something. 

It isn’t until you get closer that you recognize the familiar stench of rotting death. Sure enough, the group of agents is clustered around a hole in the ground—one that houses a woman’s corpse. You stare at the marks around her neck, the dirt caked under her nails and staining her fingertips. She was on the brink of death when she was buried. She was trying to escape. You stare down at the body for another moment, searching for any more abnormalities, before taking a step back to let the other agents resume their investigation. You exchange glances with Jack. 

“She’s not the only one,” Jack says. You stare at the field around you—the grassy, open expanse. It seems to stretch on for miles now. You feel your heart steadily thudding in your chest, at a rate slightly faster than normal. Your head begins to ache. 

“How many of them are there?” You murmur. The question is quiet, as you practically whisper it against the wind. For a moment, you think Jack doesn’t hear it. You then realize that he has comprehended it, but is simply declining to answer. Indeed, your boss stares out at the field with a conflicted expression. “Jack?”

“Sixteen,” Jack responds, turning his attention back to you. You feel something in your stomach twist and pull. 

“That can’t be right,” you remark. It sounds as if the wind is picking up. It takes you several seconds to realize the sound is being conjured by your own mind, and that the air is damp and still around you. You swallow hard and take another look around at the field, suddenly understanding why the agents are now evenly dispersed across the space. They all have shovels and each sound of metal hitting dirt is enough to send a bolt of pain down your temple and through your cheekbones. Your teeth hurt as you watch the unearthing of sixteen different victims. They’re uniformly dispersed across the field. This is no happy accident—the killer meticulously planned for their graves to be close (but not too close). The thought brings a burning feeling to your throat and you feel your knees suddenly buckle. You place a hand on the ground, feeling the familiar horrible feeling of nausea climbing past your throat until you’re vomiting on the killer’s ground. It takes you a few minutes to stop, and even longer for you to fully recover. Your eyes sting and you can’t tell if you’re going to cry or pass out. There’s an overwhelming clarity in your vision and a rhythmic pounding at your temple.

This graveyard is a gruesome display, even to someone who has spent their entire career surrounded by carnage. You’ve seen your fair share of murder victims. You’ve never seen sixteen of them lined up in two neat rows of eight, buried in a nondescript field under layers of muddy soil. Moreover, you can sense the killer’s feelings—and it makes you sick. This was not a gesture born out of respect for the victims. The murderer did not dig up these graves to give these women a final resting place; he buried them to trap them, so that even in death, they would never truly be free. Their existences would be tied to him forever. They would never be allowed to breathe again. It’s nothing short of sickening. There’s nausea stewing in your stomach again, revulsion prickling across your skin, and sweat trickling down your neck.

You can’t seem to push yourself up to your feet. You’re grounded to the damp soil, to the wrong side of the earth. What deems you worthy of living? What deemed these women worthy of dying? Your hands are twitching at your sides. A deep breath causes your chest to hitch and you nearly vomit again. You look down on your body as you claw at the grass and tear it up, shakily pulling at the dirt and plants and grass and rot and death and injustice and horrible, terrible guilt and indescribable anger and vengeance -

There’s a hand on your shoulder. You instinctually tense, your movements beginning to slow. It feels as if you’re suddenly catapulted back into your body, forced to inhabit the itchy, dirt-stained skin and the endless remorse that wants to eat you alive from the inside. 

“They’re dead; there is nothing left for them here,” Jack says. It’s his strange way of comforting you. It sort of works. After a moment, he takes a step forward and extends a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to pull you up. Jack seems to be fighting against the urge to say or do something, because his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pulled taut in a thin line. There’s dirt all over you, yet you are still privileged with life. 

You don’t remember how you get back to the Bureau. All you remember is staring blankly ahead as you’re half-led through the halls by Jack himself, his hand on your shoulder providing equal support and increased pressure. All you remember is the worry on Alana’s face as you walk past, the way she gets up from her desk and walks over to you, how she leads you towards the far restroom with a gentle hand. It ends up being the same restroom where Zeller accused you of killing Franklyn. The memory of that encounter is far fresher than you want it to be. 

Alana leads you to a sink and guides your hands towards the water. 

“Allow me,” she remarks, turning on the sink. She steps away for a moment and you stare at the water dripping from the faucet. Alana returns moments later with a washcloth. She pumps some soap on your hands and helps you wash them clean. Your head aches. You don’t know what to think, what to say. All you can think about is the graveyard. It haunts your vision every time you blink, forcing you to think of suffocating under piles of dirt and debris. You inhale sharply, gasping. Regaining your breath is a chore. “I’m worried about you,” Alana soon admits. You hate that her concern makes you feel appreciated. Your relationship with Alana ended years ago. You don’t want to be hers again, but this very moment reminds you of the intimacy you no longer get to see.

“You shouldn’t be,” you remark. Alana laughs under her breath. You both know that’s not how it works. Emotions don’t bend to logic. 

“What did you see?” Her hand on your forearm keeps you tethered to reality. You shake your head, unable to begin describing the scene that will most certainly haunt your nightmares. The two of you are silent for the remainder of your time together under the flickering fluorescent lights, as you try to come to terms with the terrible regret, revulsion, and rage threatening to spill over your frame and inhabit your every waking moment.

next chapter

endnotes: thanks for reading! i'm very excited to continue this story, mwahhahahha

here's a lil sneak peek for the next chapter: “Peter,” Clark practically coos. You hate him, more than you’ve ever hated anyone before. He is a bundle of contradictions: a fine-dressed man with a fine-dressed smile and fine-dressed lies and cruelty and violence and- “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

hannibal taglist <3: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

[eponymous-rose]

Monday!

It's been a while since I've done one of these week-in-the-life posts (and I LOVE reading them from others), and it's a particularly stressful week where I'm trying to stay off social media for Reasons, so hey, let's do this again!

It's a busy day, but it starts relatively late - I don't have to leave for the office until 10AM. So, you may ask, why on earth do I set my alarm for 8:30? Is it because I have an elaborate morning routine? Is it so I can hit the gym and go for a jog? No, no, no, it's because I have a little cat who takes the alarm as her cue to cuddle and I don't want to disappoint her, so I inevitably spend half an hour hugging her like a purring teddy bear first thing in the morning before I get up.

I respond to some e-mails as I get ready and on the bus ride over - mostly prep for our department's holiday party (I'm in the band and we're trying to get as much practice in as possible), but also a little work getting supercomputer access restored for an undergrad research assistant, offering to write a letter of recommendation so my colleague doesn't have to (we both know the student well and said colleague is traveling across the country for a funeral on a redeye flight tonight...), reworking some elements of the rubric for the faculty search committee I'm on, and confirming a meeting with my grad student.

10:45 - I get to the office and go to make my usual mug of tea... and realize in the moment I close my office door that the keys are still inside. I get the hot water from the lounge and meander by the office, but nobody's there. Just as I'm about to work up the nerve to go interrupt a more senior professor's meeting to borrow his keys, one of the office staff walks by and is happy to open the door for me, phew.

11:00 - My most senior grad student is doing an internship in Colorado this quarter (it's the location he most wants to do a postdoc at as well!), and we've set up a call to catch up after a few weeks without chatting. It's a bit of an awkward chat because he wants to go to his second conference in two months, and I had to bring out the "well, um, this is a side project you're doing with someone else's research group and you may want to check with them about where the $2000+ for conference costs is coming from". I possibly have an avenue - I might ask him to just attend for a couple of days instead of the whole time, so I can use some funding from a different grant, but I'm hoping we can get some cost-sharing going here, or possibly the other professor he's working with can present his poster for him if need be. Still, his work's going great and I'm hoping we can get him to this conference! He finishes his PhD this year, and I can attest to how helpful conferences are for landing postdocs.

12:00 - Speaking of grants, I had a successful grant come through late last summer to study wildfire smoke dynamics with novel instrumentation (something new to me!), and the whole team is meeting up for the first time to talk logistics! I also have to teach real soon, so I'm only on for the first chunk of the call, but we get some of the plan set up. Looks like we'll be meeting at a NASA facility early next year to do some siting stuff prior to the first controlled burn. I genuinely have no idea what I'm doing on this project, apart from being willing to write a big chunk of the proposal, but it's a good time!

12:30 - Class time! This is my domain-specific intro-to-python class that I developed 5 years ago and have been iterating on ever since. It's going a lot smoother this week than last, and the students are pretty responsive to my jokes (priority #1, lbr) and seem to be following along quite well, judging by the handful of questions I get after class. Not a ton of technical issues today, either, which is a HUGE win over last week.

1:30 - Forecasting time! I'm once again part of our university team in a giant forecasting contest. While I'm decidedly average at it (usually around 250th out of 1000 participants), my grad student was #1 for a while there. We chat in broad terms about the next week of weather in our targeted forecasting region.

2:30 - Meeting with another graduate student! We talk about some of the researchers he reached out to after his first conference a couple weeks ago, and we're starting to narrow down a possible author list for his first paper. He's working on writing up the methods and data for that paper while he incorporates a few new datasets into his preestablished workflow. He's been doing really well! Being a dual-major in CS means his code is a heckuva lot more organized than most second-year grad students I've had.

3:30 - ...nothing??? I've decided to skip my usual seminar and postpone one undergraduate student research meeting this afternoon (the one currently locked out of the supercomputer he needs for his project) since I have a couple of grant proposals due very shortly. I head out to grab some teriyaki to bring back to my office for lunch/dinner, but the restaurant just has a big sign out front saying "closed for FIRE" so I opt to go across the street for some chicken katsu and boba tea instead. I approve the final budget (coming up on a million dollars, no pressure) and keep plugging away at the statement of work (which is basically "what are you going to do, in detail, with one million dollars over the next three years? please tell us in exactly 15 pages, not counting your 3-page bibliography and 6 appendices"). I even find a perfect paper to reference to discuss one of our theories! We've made it through one round of reviews with our pre-proposal, and man, we'd love to do this project - it would be myself, a colleague, and a postdoc looking at some really novel stuff in severe storm predictability over the next three years. I also get a little work done on the invited talk I'm giving to a student journal club tomorrow, and work on some more e-mails (trying to set up a meeting with a friend's graduate student to help her out with some methods she's using from an older paper of mine).

5:15 - One of my colleagues has retired this year and has a farewell song he wants to sing at our holiday party, which happens to be mostly voice & piano, so we agree to meet up before the main practice and go over it a couple times before the rest of the band shows up and he has to head out to dinner. I'm really sorry to see him leaving (although I know he's delighted to get to spend more time with his kids and grandkids) - he and his wife were extremely welcoming when I started here, and were so kind and supportive when Mom died. Just very touched that he reached out to me to play piano on this one. Tragically, though, whoever was supposed to bring in the keyboard hasn't left it in the practice room, so we'll have to wait and run through it with the rest of the band on Thursday. Instead, it's back to the office to get caught up on e-mail and try to slog through more of the grant application (all today's research and work has netted me... 1 page of writing, blah).

6:00 - The rest of the band shows up! We run three songs of our eight-song setlist, and I'm somehow now playing on 4/8 of them, despite there being five people signed up for keys. It's a good time, though!

8:00 - I make it home and give Clara a bunch of new toys that have arrived with her prescription food (one of which she licks for 15 minutes straight). Luckily, tomorrow's work schedule is much more chill!

[winterdadandspiderson]

WINTERDAD AU #1

(part one because this got way too long. this is essentially the plot of an old fic i started back in 2020 and what would've happened of i'd continued it. i might try and write it again one day, perhaps, if i don't give up after 2 chapters. anyway here we go)

- mary parker was a shield agent when she met the winter soldier, both were on a mission. they fought, but never got as far as mortally wounding each other. mary would always slip away. it was like a game. bucky had been kept out the ice for a few weeks at that point, running a long job. but the longer he's out, the more he starts to remember little pieces, who he used to be.

- mary feels pity for him, seeing through the stone cold image hydra forged for him, to the person within. they fight. but then they also talk. they keep seeing each other while bucky scouts. eventually one thing leads to another and they develop a relationship of sorts. 

- mary later discovers she's pregnant but bucky never finds out. he's taken back, wiped and put under the ice once more. mary quits her job at shield so she can provide for her kid and keep them safe. knowing full well if anyone in shield or hydra caught wind that she was carrying the winter soldiers child, they'd never be safe.

- she's sad that bucky disappeared again, she knows hydra likely had him wiped and iced again. but she moves on, meeting richard soon after who she tells she's expecting a son, that the father disappeared without a word (technically not a lie) he tells her he'll love him like he's his regardless.

- when her son is born she names him peter james parker (during the few weeks they met, the last time they talked, bucky ended up remembering his first name, mary wanted peter to have at least a piece of him)

- peter ends up looking a LOT like bucky. he has the same shade of dark brown hair, facial structure which shows as he grows. but he has mary's eyes)

- the plane crash was really just an unfortunate incident. peter still goes to live with aunt may and uncle ben when he's seven. and then things go as they usually do in canon. the avengers form, yada yada all that stuff, you know the drill.

- when he's 14 peter is bitten by the radioactive spider. BUT. an important detail here is that due to the expiermentation bucky was subjected to by hydra and the enhancements which altered his genes, some of that, though remaining dormant, passed onto peter. but it didn't really do anything, it was just there. but it did keep him alive after the spider bite. without those enhancements in his blood peter would've died. instead, he gained his powers.

- uncle ben still gets shot, which as usual influences peter to become spider-man. and months after tony still comes along and recruits him to fight in germany. peter does.

- when he briefly faces bucky ("you have a metal arm? that is AWESOME, dude!") neither know so that also goes as normal. bucky is bewhildered by the kid who managed to block a hit with so much force behind it, while also shocked to know that he was just that, a kid.

- now one vastly different thing here is that while the avengers do split for a good year, steve and tony eventually talk and make amends. the avengers reassemble, deciding that they need to put the world before their feud. they're not on super good terms, but they tolerate each other. tony still refuses to forgive bucky.

- homecoming happens during the time where things are still rocky between the avengers so peter still deals with vulture alone. but he does see tony more often, stopping by for lab days to work on his suit among other things, to keep up the "internship" charade. tony grows fond of him, though he doesn't admit it.

its post homecoming where things start to go wrong.

[wttcsms]

i love your writing every time i read a post i know it’s going to permanently engrave itself into my brain 😌 i’m studying accounting rn (rip) and i’m nosy but did you go the route of cpa/big 4 or did something different? i’m kinda nervous if i don’t go into public accounting but it sounds horrific and wanted to know other people’s experience 😭 sorry if that’s too personal

i did something different haha. i recently graduated with my master’s in accounting and im now going to begin studying for the cpa exam and take my first section (FAR) at the beginning of 2025. im in a very specialized/niche field of auditing, not necessarily by choice LOL. i actually received a fellowship with the entity i am working with now and so they paid for my entire grad school tuition (including books and other fees) and in return, i work for them for the next two years. truthfully, i don’t think big 4 is worth it. back when i was in undergrad, i didn’t go the usual public accounting route bc that simply did not seem like the vibe. i actually went and got a junior year internship w jp morgan (private banking division) & what i learned is that accounting is so versatile. you are eligible for so many jobs within the finance field, accounting is a very technical subject and it comes in handy bc lots of finance jobs (corporate, at least) have to spend time understanding financial statements.

before i graduated with my bachelor’s, i also received two job offers that weren’t public accounting. both were financial analyst roles, one was with a&f (so working corporate for a fashion brand) and the other was with lockheed martin (weapons manufacturing) so two completely industries yet they both wanted me, which goes to show how far you can go with an accounting degree and i will say that they paid very well in comparison to what the starting salary of big 4 is.

this isn’t me shitting on big 4 but i think there’s so much emphasis in universities that this is the optimal route and it really isn’t. you can think abt any major company or brand and i promise you, they need people to work as an internal auditor or as a financial analyst or someone who works within accounting/finance. several of those positions, esp for entry-level/new graduates, won’t even require a cpa or cpa eligibility.

all that to say, i actually want to go an even more insane route and pursue academia, so im really focused on phd applications starting next year :)

[jellogram]

How I Landed Professional Writing Gigs (from scratch)

Okay so I am currently a full-time writer for a travel company but this was absolutely not my first writing endeavor so I thought it would be helpful to write out some things that I wish I had known.

I write non-fiction/marketing/journalism-oriented work, but there's some overlap with fiction publishing. However, you should understand that making a living solely from fiction is significantly harder than this.

So here is what I did:

1. Write as much as you can.

This seems obvious, because you need to practice, but it's more than that. You NEED to be creating work to fill out your portfolio. Write everything. Write essays about things you like, write short stories, write social media captions, interview whoever responds to your emails and write about that, just write write write as much as you can. With as much variety as you can. Writing ad copy in different styles is going to be a big one.

2. Compile all of this into a portfolio.

There are many ways to do this, but you need a) a digital folder that you can submit on forms and attach in emails and b) a website with all of your work that you can link with one URL. You can make a website with something like wordpress or you can just use substack or medium.

In your portfolio, include all of your best work. This will likely be pretty unimpressive at first, and mostly school papers and passion pieces, but it's a start. You just need to get something together, because when you start applying, you will often need a portfolio to even complete the submissions.

Now, this is crucial, do not publish all your creative pieces. If you have a poem or a short story that is particularly good, you can add it to your digital folder, but DO NOT PUBLISH IT on a publicly accessible site. You'll see why below.

3. Apply to literally everything.

Now you are ready to start looking for gigs. These will, almost certainly, be unpaid at first. Obviously this sucks, but it also doesn't have to ruin your life. If you're in a position to take a whole unpaid internship, that will definitely help, but there's other options.

Your new best friend is Submittable. This is how I got my first fiction piece published. Submit to e v e r y t h i n g. Paid, unpaid, whatever you can find. If you have a piece of creative writing that you truly think is publishable, you grind on Submittable for hours after work/school, sending it off to every publishing call that's even vaguely related.

This is why you can't publish your best work on your own site — nearly all of these listings require first publishing rights, meaning you keep ownership of your piece, but they don't want it if the public has been able to access it already. Once your piece is published on their site, you can add it to yours.

4. Keep track of where you've been published and put that list in your bio from now on.

You are nothing but the places where you have been published, which is why it's vital to gather as many credits as possible.

5. You can also get gigs on Upwork.

This is a great way to gain more experience working for a client and hopefully getting a few publishing credits. This is technically paid work, but you're not likely to make more than a few bucks. Send bids for the lowest paying, least popular gigs. Just chat with the client back and forth a bit to make sure they're legit.

This kind of work SUCKS, but it can help you beef up your portfolio and get more credits. It will also teach you, unequivocally, if writing is really want you want to do for a living. If you hate dealing with client requests and doing grunt work and being told what to write, you're probably going the wrong direction and you'll learn that quickly from Upwork.

6. Once you have an OK portfolio/list of credits, start looking for more consistent work.

Technically you can start doing this at any time, but you're unlikely to land anything consistent until you have a few credits and some solid experience.

This type of work is usually paid. By this point, if you've gathered up enough credits, you should be beyond unpaid internships. That doesn't mean it won't be difficult to find work. Getting a job always sucks and this is no different, you're just better primed for it now than you were before the previous steps.

I found all my consistent jobs on Indeed. There's basically two kinds of work at this stage: contracted and salaried. I've done both.

Contracted work basically means you have an agency. They work with companies who are hiring out copywriting agencies for whatever writing they need. This kind of work is nice because you have a lot more control and flexibility in your daily life. However, you are at the will of your agency. If they don't give you any jobs that month, you're out of luck. Unless your particular agency is very very consistent, this is most likely more supplemental income than primary income, especially if you live in a place that taxes the living hell out of contracted workers.

There's also independent contractors, but I strongly advise against trying to make that work unless you already have years of experience in the field.

Salaried work is a JOB job. You might still have some flexibility, but your daily hours and workload will be out of your control. I started with the contracted work and moved to a full time job, and while I definitely prefer the lifestyle of contracted work, I would not trade the comfort of regular paychecks. Up to you.

7. If you can't find a regular job, start branching out your skills.

If you have been hitting every job board and publishing outlet you can find, you have credits, your portfolio is excellent, and you STILL can't find a consistent job, you might want to start adding semi-related skills to your resume.

Fortunately, you can do this (for free) online. It's time consuming, which sucks if you're already doing all of this while maintaining another job. But it can make or break your chances.

I looked at what all the writing-related jobs on Indeed were requesting as skills, and started learning them. I used Hubspot, Google Analytics Academy, and Coursera, because they give you certificates upon course completion that you can add to your resume. Codecademy is also really quick and easy for coding.

All of these are available for free, but with Coursera you have to apply for a scholarship for each course if you'd like to take it without paying.

In this process, I learned:

SEO

HTML5

CSS

Social media and email marketing

WordPress

Google Analytics

Obviously this list will vary depending on what type of writing gig you're looking for, but if you're in the market for advertising or blog work, I think SEO, html, and Google Analytics are good places to start.

Graphic design is also a super useful skill that will go a long way towards setting you apart from other candidates. Specifically Adobe, but even a little Canva experience can help.

Once you've acquired these skills, try to make something with them. Build a small website or collect a graphic design portfolio. The more skills and experience you can show off, the better.

And that's it! I'm sure some of you will read this and scream "But OP, I did that and it didn't work!" and I'm sorry. This is what worked for me, so that's all I can really offer.

Good luck out there!

[themirokai]

hello stranger on tumblr! i am but a member of the starry-eyed youth (18 years of age) who is mulling about what i want to do in college.

i understand that what you may start out majoring in may or may not be the thing you eventually do, but i am still burdened by the Anxiety of the Future. i've played with the idea of seeking an education in law (specifically admiralty law) but i'm not quite sure.

anyway, that was a lot of exposition for a small question to ask for advice: what are some important things one should consider before possibly settling on an education in law?

thank you :^)

Dear dear Anon, I’m very flattered that you’ve come to me with this ask. And I’m more than happy to answer but this comes with the massive caveat that I was applying to law schools in 2005 which may very well be the year you were born. So my information on law school is… dated. Also, I’m assuming you are in the US, otherwise I have no idea what to tell you.

With that said, I think some things are timeless.

First, deep breath. You’re going to be fine.

Second, you can study law following any sort of undergrad work AND/OR after working for a few (or many!) years after college. I went straight from undergrad to law school but lots of my friends didn’t and they didn’t regret it.

So what does that mean for you at age 18? My best advice is to study something you’re really interested in and that you can get good grades in. Don’t force yourself to study criminal justice just because it sounds like a law thing. If you think you might be interested in admiralty law, then maybe you would be interested in an international affairs degree. Law schools care about your gpa and in my experience getting good grades is easier when you’re studying something you love.

It’s probably a good idea to take classes that improve your writing skills and some classes that make you do some creative thinking and problem-solving, but that could be almost anything.

I liked environmental stuff and ended up with a degree in physical geography and an internship that inspired me to go to law school. In my career as an environmental lawyer, understanding how erosion works and why wetlands are important has certainly been helpful. But I also worked for a water and sewer utility and I learned all that technical stuff on the job.

So yeah. Try to make choices that make you happy. Do stuff that interests you. Keep your shit together and get good grades but not at the cost of burning out.

Good luck, Anon. You’ll be okay, I know it. And please consider this an open invitation to stop by my inbox any time if you have follow up questions or just want to chat. ❤️❤️

[prettyboykatsuki]

not quite an academic fuck up but i worked really hard all my life especially in college to set myself up for an easy financial future in the corporate world and i got it and i have a job secured for post grad and it’s the worst ever. my internship with the company was mindnumbingly boring and yesterday i broke down in my professors office hours and finally admitted to myself that i cannot have a life that doesn’t involve creation/literary analysis which sounds lame af but i basically am accepting the fact that after a few years working im gonna go to grad school of some sort and probably only ever be just okay financially. and that’s really hard bc immigrant parents of color and expectations and my own debilitating fear of failure but i have to be brave and admit that this is what is truly important to me and what makes my life worth living and it’s gonna sound so corny but it’s genuinely been people like u who write long meta posts about anime and mangas and unabashedly love the act of writing that helped me nurture my love for writing of all different types before i admitted to myself that i wanted writing to be my life. so thank u for that and thank u for being brave bc it’s helped me decide to do the same

i really. man this made me cry a bit

im in a similar situation as you in many ways. i really dont hate computer science or programming - but im of the belief that i will never find anything or any career that i love as much as writing. i did consider going into the humanities but like you i have immigrant parents and i put stability over passion. also, i learned that i think putting longterm pressure on myself to monetize what is ultimately a passion for me is really stressful. for me though, work will pretty much always be secondary to my hobbies and interests. that was what i concluded as compromise. ill build a life around wanting to do what i wanted. i wanted a job that i can do with a technical skillset even if it does not incite the same joy and that i could do without resenting.

i had this realization early, and i dont regret pursuing compsci at all. its very accommodating to me and i enjoy it. but in a world where i had nothing else to consider, i think i would've been nice to push for something else. im minoring in creative writing as compensation and compromise. maybe ill change my mind in the future, or maybe not.

this silly hobby is also what makes my life worth living in many ways. beyond the scope of just fanfiction, it is writing and media and art and literature that keeps me alive. i commend what you're doing and im unbelievably proud of you. i hope we can be proud of each other and make amends with our expectations to do what is important to us and pursue what makes us happiest even if those paths look different. its tough but we'll do it. i will and so will you, one step at a time.

[gildedmuse]

[Top credit to @jhaernyl. Who knows of I would even write without her. She is one of the singule kindest, kniwst individuals I know. And I love her for both]

So, we have a problem..

A lot of time I see cute art and I can't HELP being inspired and want to write fic about it, or at least a ficlet. It's kind of a lot of my writing these days, it's helping me get back in the habit. But you can't just post art without proper credit!

(Speaking of which @jhaernyl for writing inspo.)

So what I'm do is post a link to a random site. And if it HAPPENS to remind you of the story I guess that's that.

Exactly like this.

[Gonna credit Sam Elias, if that's wrong please let me know. I'd hate to wrongly credit this random and unrelated art]

Idea:

College Law after his high school boyfriend moves in with him

Law: *20 year old starting his med degree working full time and trying to get an internship all at the same time*

Zoro: *15 and shows up at Law's door with one bag and three swords* Torao! *Throws himself into Law's arms*

Official Boyfriend

Law: Z-Zoro-ya? What are you doing here? *Glancing at his calendar. It's not Northerntide yet is it? He's been studying but he hasn't been THAT out of it*

Zoro: *Snickers* That's still a month off, idiot.

Zoro: *walks in to Law's apartment, perfectly comfortable* I just wanted to come and see you. Wow, your place is a mess.

Law: O-oh. *Blushing, moving to quick to stuff a.... Err.... Medical work out magazine under a pillow. Shambling some books onto his bed, tossing his jacket over the mess on his chair* I guess I haven't had many guest lately. Oh! *Looks down, surprised to suddenly have Zoro smiling up right next to him*

Zoro: Well now you have one. You're welcome!

Law: *Gives in, finally smiling softly down at Zoro* Yeah, I do. *Kissing the tip of his nose* My favorite guest, In fact.

Zoro: *snorts, punching Law's arm, but gently* You just told me I was your ONLY guest, flirt.

Law: *chuckle* But still my favorite.

Zoro: *standing there, up on his toes, staring up at Law all expectedly*

Law: *ruffles his hair* Right. Let me get you a warm drink.

Not what Zoro wanted, but he'll take it.

—🧡—

Technically, Zoro and Law have been "dating" since Zoro was 12/13 and Law was 17/18. Law wouldn't say it was dating. He would say he was acting as Zoro's uchidachi while also helping to tutor the boy so he'd be ready for his Third Level Exams - that's for students moving from Second Levels (11-14 year olds) into their third and final level of basic education (15-18) - but seeing as they were both orphans and both lived at the dojo (the North doesn't have "orphanages" as such. Its far more effective to send kids into some sort of school. Not for general education but for something like a vocation or else a specialty like a Dojo or a Theater or a Companion House) and since Law was both his uchidachi and his tutor and one of the oldest kids at the dojo, they ended up spending so much time together that Zoro decided it was dating.

When Law turned 18 he had to move out of the dojo, even though he was still finishing his final year of third level (the last two years are only for higher level students who are likely to go into universities. Law had earned a scholarship to the North Blue Marine Academy, so he was staying all three years, but the dojo only has so many rooms, and at 18, regardless of the situation, you had to go.) Law "rented" a room with his mentor, the one at the Academy who had recruited Law and even secured him a spot in the competitive medical school - under the stipulation that Law maintains his grades of course - so he was able to focus on his school.

However, he felt he needed at least a part time job. And while Law MAY have been the occasional problem back at the dojo, the Sensei did like to hold him up as an example to the other students as what they could achieve if they put their nose to the grindstone and followed all the rules.

Also, Donquixote Rosinate was a big donor and Law's mentor and no one wanted to upset Rosinate-san. So they hired him on part time as a assistant to the sensei which, at least the students liked him

But Zoro liked him MORE and so he was sure to establish that he was still Law's shadachi which Law ensured him that, yes, while he might be the assistant sensei for the whole class, he was only Zoro-ya's uchidachi which Zoro was very, very happy to hear.

So then, just to make sure, he checked that he was still Torao's only boyfriend.

That was.... More complicated.

"Why? Because you sometimes see other people? I don't care, so long as I'm your only OFFICIAL BOYFRIEND."

"Zoro-ya, you can't be my official boyfriend. You can't be my boyfriend at all. You're only 12!"

"Well, yeah, but I'll be 13 in less than a month! All the other 13 year olds have boyfriends or girlfriends."

"But not ones who are 18."

"That's not true. Baby's is 37!"

Law has nearly choked. He also made sure to tell one of the Sensei immediately, and was politely told to mind his own business.

Zoro remained very persistent. "Please. We don't have to DO anything. I just want to have you as my boyfriend."

And Law did notice all the other 13 year olds had dates. Zoro was from the east, he got brought up here by *accident*. And he really didn't seem to want to do anything other than talk about kendo and hang out with Law and maybe sometimes fall asleep on his shoulder, but those are all things he'd done before. So when he was 13, Law finally gave in and said, okay, they could be "official" boyfriends, but he couldn't tell any of yhe kids at the dojo. It would make it seem like Law was playing favorites and dating students is wrong, anyway, he explained.

Zoro had gone all pink and punched the air. "Yes! Torao, I'll be the BEST official boyfriend ever, I promise!"

And maybe it's just that Law had only ever had the two "official" boyfriend and one girlfriend ever and none of them had been that great at just, like, being *people* never mind dates, but honestly, Zoro-ya probably was the best. At least in Law's experience.

He didn't talk about it, not at the dojo but at also at school, at least as far as Law could tell. He never asked for anything or expected Law to do anything for him. He didn't mind when sometimes kids would tease Law because somehow they always seemed to know when he'd been with someone, because as far as Zoro was concerned it was like how Law was everyone's assistant but only HIS uchidachi. That's what made him official.

He didn't constantly follow Law around or want to talk to him all the time; well, no more than he had before. He never cried or pouted because Law wasn't giving him enough attention or started a fight just because he fault like being angry.

Well, he started fights, just not with Law, and they were all physical anyway so that was fine.

No, he was pretty much the same kid he'd always been expect that sometimes he'd scoot just a bit closer to Laa, and occasionally he'd sneak giving him this look, but that was fine. Oh, and for couple's day he'd gone and got Law a gift.

Of course, he didn't have any money, but he knew Law was busy with school and his job and his Academy Entranve Exams AND being his Official Boyfriend, so Zoro had snuck out and borrowed Kikoku - Law's Nodachi and one of his few possessions left from his parents - And he took his best oil and traded away part of his super for the best rice paper he could and he even managed to find his way to where Law was staying (that's had been the plan, at least..... In the end, he wound up at the Marine station, but that worked out all the same) and he spoke with Law's Corazon and explained what he needed. Law said if there was every anything that Zoro really, really needed or any kind of an emergency, he should go to Corazon. Zoro knew this wasn't an emergency, but he did think it was really, really important so he put together his best clothes and brushed his hair and practiced all his formal language just to ask this one favor.

It turns out, Corazon was really cool and so impressed with Zoro's presentation that not only did he agree, he took him down to the store himself and he let Zoro pick out the Sageo he thought Law would like best (within reason).

Zoro had selected a bright red one because that way it was like blood and Torao was going to be a doctor, so he'd probably be around a lot of blood and this was if any was on his hands it wouldn't show. Plus it looked really cool. Way more scary and also fancy than the worn out, threadbare and dirty white one that Law was using.

Corazon let him come back to the house so he could work while Law was at class (he forgot to ask why Zoro wasn't at class himself, he was so delighted to have this adorable and determined child who wanted to make a gift for his uchidachi. He didn't even bother to tell him that wasn't how Couple's Day works up North. He just made Zoro some snacks, said he had to go back to work but he could call if anything happened and help himself to anything in the kitchen and let the boy work.

When Law came home after his study group he found Zoro curled up on the floor next to the couch, Corazon's marine coat draped over him like a blanket. On the table was a note where Corazon explained all about Zoro coming down to the marine office and asking Corazon if he would help him buy a gift for Law and how he'd come back and spent all day working on polishing Kikoku and then rewrapping the saya with the hanging cord which according to Corazon he'd only needed two tries to do which seemed very impressive for such a young boy. He'd also run in the second he'd heard Corazon scream with his own katana drawn, ready to attack, and once he saw it was just Corazon on fire from the stove he helped him put both out.

Corazon had wanted to offer him dinner, but by the time he'd come in the boy had be sprawled out on the floor snoring. The note finished that he's had to leave - no reason which Law has figured out means it's secret marine business - but dinner was in the fridge. Be sure his young friend gets home safe and oh you may want to change his bandages before he goes.

That part was confusing to say the least, so Law goes and he gently prods Zoro awake. The boy yawns and sits up, holding out Kikoku for Law's approval.

The sword was beautiful. He also noticed Zoro's littke hands covered in bandages. Kikoku was a cursed blade and Zoro-ya is stranger, it makes sense it would take blood. But he had just wrapped up his fingers and kept working. It had been one of the nicest thing anyone's ever done for Law.

Law, of course, had no idea he'd planned to make such a sweet gesture and so had nothing to give him in exchange. Thinking quickly he told Zoro-ya to close his eyes before dashing to his room. He grabs an old hoodie he's made with his tag on it.

It was nothing compared to the thoughtfulness behind Zoro-ya's gift, but before Law can regret it, the boy's squealed that he loved it and throw it on over his school uniform.

On the way taking Zoro's back to the dojo, the stop and get some fries dumplings and the woman behind the counter's comment on how cute they are with Zoro in his boyfriend shirt makes Zoro beam. Law smiles and says, "yeah, he's the Official Boyfriend," in a way he hopes she'll know is joke and Zoro turns pink and burrows into his jacket. The old woman laughs and apologizes for being out of couple specials and instead "sneaks" them two extra dumplings and gives them what it left of her white rice which is easily three helpings worth. After the split the dumplings he lets Zoro have the rice to himself which he gulps down without seeming to need to breathe. He is quite the picture with his puff out cheeks, splitting rice as he says thank you.

"You know next year, when I'm not around, if anything where to happen you could still go to Cora-san, yeah?"

"Oh...." And the kid manages to swallow the whole ball of rice in his mouth at once. "Yeah but, you'll still come and visit, right? For holidays and stuff."

"It would be expensive," Law pointed out. "And I'll be very busy."

Zoro gives a small sound of unstanding and nods his agreeal. The kid is just looking down at the mostly empty dumpling box, picking through what little rice is left. Law feels like he's broken up with someone. On Couple's Day.

"But...." He says, eyes falling on a vendor who is just about to close up. He takes out his wallet. It's a little light, but then it always is. "Here," he says, reaching down for Zoro's hand and pulling him towards that side of the street. "One last Couple's Day gift. Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?"

"It says 2 for 200 Berris."

"Yes, it's our Couple's Day Special."

"Is that for any of them or..."

"That's the cheapest models. We have much better for 1200, and for just 3000 we can do two E Mushis, but the air time is sold separately. "

"Can the cheap ones reach from here to the Marine Academy over on Stanton Island? "

" All the way to Stanton? No. Not yet, they're too young." Law notes the inside of his cheek, making a disappointed noise. He should have checked before dragging Zoro-ya over here.

The vendor looks between the two before sighing. He's seen enough broken hearted couples for one day. "I have some that are about two years old. The reception might be spotty but it will get better given a year or so. I can do them for 300."

"Yeah?" 300 isn't that bad, and he can use it for other things like staying in touch with Cora-san and his friends. "May we see them?"

The man nods before reaching down and pulling out a small aquarium. It has barely enough room for each creature to move, with a line of plastic down the middle so the cages can either been broken into two or turned into one slightly larger aquarium.

Inside are two medium size snails. One of them happily chomping at the foliage. The other looks like it had been sleeping but clicks into a more official On state when it's picked up, remaining fully still.

The man puts them on the counter in front of Zoro's who looks at them with a curious tilt of his head.

Law fingers what little cash he has on him. He feels for such a purchase he should at least ask some questions. "You said they're 2 years old?"

"Yeah. It'll still be about 3 years before they're full grown, another 2 before they're Grand Line Capable. These models have a good 20 years on them, though."

"Do they have any additional capabilities?"

"These models? No, they're only bred to be basic communicators. But if all you're doing is talking, they can handle that. Like I said, they're range will get bigger given a few years."

"Any health problems? Care instructions?"

"This breed is pretty hearty. They're the North Blue Heartland Subspecies, known for good health and strong signal bred with an Eastern Beach Subspecies for the longevity and obedience. They're often referred to as SandHearts. Pretty common bred, resistant to most diseases though Shell Spots can sometimes appear in old age. We sell Snail Pellets but actually, with these guys, you can charge them up with just about any kind of vegetation, even just a handful of grass. Shouldn't let him give them too many processed foods though," the man adds, nodding towards the cage.

Law looks back to see Zoro dropping a small piece of left over dumpling skin in to the green one, who immediately dives for it. The yellow one remains 'On', it's eyes stalks only following the food for a second. "Zoro-ya, are you listening? "

"Hmm? Mmm." The young boy gives him a nod. Law raises his eyebrows, giving the chopsticks a pointed look.

Biting his inner cheek with just a bit of a pout, Zoro puts down his chopsticks. "Sorry about that," Law says, turning back to the vendor who only shrugs.

"It won't hurt em too much in small doses, just gives them a lot of energy to burn. Plus, can reduce their years of usage eventually. So what will it be? I have a couple of 560 Berri pairs that are further along if you'd like. "

Law winces at the price. "These will do. Thank you so much. "

As they walk off, Law sighs, stuffing his now mostly empty wallet into jean's pocket. "There," he says, smiling down at Zoro even if the smile is a bit strained. "Now will be able to speak with one another, even with me a while two islands away. You can call me with questions about kendo or homework."

Zoro looks at the two creatures in his hand. Cautiously, he taps at the glass before breaking into a smile for Law. "I want the green one."

Law returns the smile, nodding. "Okay, that one's yours." They break apart the box. Law sets his in his jacket pocket while Zoro continues to carry his inside the box with the little bits of rice. Law hopes he's not planning to feed it to the creature when he gets home. Law JUST bought them....

"If I got a job and saved up, then could I come and visit you?"

"I don't see why not. You'd have to work extra hard though, to stay on top of your grades and kendo. "

"You don't have to worry about that! I'm still the top kendo competitor in my year."

"Yeah, but not the top student," Law reminds him. But Zoro just keeps staring and finally Law relents with a sigh. "We'll talk about it later. The Dojo is the next left."

"Hmm? Oh the streets look different in the dark."

"Sure they do." Law takes the paper box, almost completely devoid of food by now, and tossss it away in the trash. So Zore won't be tempted. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay."

"Okay." Then Zoro stands there, staring at him.

Law states back. The Dojo is literally less than two hundred feet, but he still wants to watch to make sure Zoro gets back okay. They stand like that for a minute before Zoro's eyes slide to the left.

"Hmm?" Law looks over to spot a young couple standing under the light of a street lamp. The girl has about a dozen Frost Roses in her hands which couldnt have been cheap. The two are kissing and when the girl pulls back the boy tried to follow despite her giggled protest that her parents will worry.

Law looks back at Zoro, who is still staring up at him. With a low sign, Law leans down kissing the tip of Zoro's nose.

That's apparently good enough since the boy breaks out into a smile. "Night!" He calls out, almost tripping over himself as as he heads back to the dojo.

—🧡—

Now he's trying to find something non alcoholic in his fridge he can give to Zoro. A Zoro who is suddenly here. Law known he had gotten a job and had been talking about visiting but only a few days. For the holidays. And it had only been talk.

"What about school? Vacation hasn't started yet, has it?"

"Oh, yeah. I stopped going?"

"Wh-ouch!" Law jumps back at the top of his head heads the ceiling of the fridge. "What do you mean you stopped going?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, it turns out that I don't actually NEED the last tao years for Kendo, you know? "

"Kendo?" Law's jaw drops. He couldn't be serious. "Zoro-ya you can't just DO kendo!"

"Sure I can. I'm already really good at it! Plenty of people do. Oh, and I'm old enough to join the Marines!"

"Join the Marines? Zoro-ya you are NOT joining the Marines!"

"Why not?" Zoro gives him a look. "You are."

Law waves his head through the air. That's totally different. He going to the Marine Academy as a medical doctor, and even if he stayed he'd be a well paid officer. He's not joining as the rank and file!

"What did the Sensei have to say about this!?" Law asks. They couldn't just allow this. They must have strings they could pull to get him back in school!

"Oh..." Zoro gives a mad sort of sigh, looking around the room. "They kicked me out as well."

"You got kicked out of the dojo!?"

"They said there wasn't any room for someone who was just a waste of space and they need the spot for kids that would actually be worth it," Zoro grumbles, refusing to look at Law. Refusing to admit the failure.

Just like that, Law's rising panic, his fury, it all disappears. Well, maybe not disappears but certainly lessens and redirects. They told him he wasn't good enough to keep around? Really?

But he's still practically just a kid? How could they...

"But...." Zoro gives him a small, hopeful look. "I thought, I could stay here right. I mean, I can get a job and help out wi-"

"Yeah." With a sigh, Law runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't need Zoro to finish. "Yeah, you can stay."

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

based on someone in my tags saying that there may be more about Mariner and her PTSD in season 4 (and I couldnt tell if that was a hopeful tag or a I Know What Will Happen tag), wanted to write some things I’d love to see more of:

1. I know that we’ve uncovered the truth about Rutherford’s implants, but I’d like to know a bit more about his journey related to having his memories taken from him -- curiosity about his pre-implants self, and what sort of man he’s able to be now (and look, it’s not gonna happen, but he could meet Bashir... they’re in the same time!)

I also don’t remember how much we already know about his family, will simply rewatch and find out, but if not a lot -- want to know something there as well 

and this may not come up, seeing as the plotline was somewhat “sorted” in the reveal episode itself, but if someone high up in starfleet was able to manipulate and hurt a cadet (including non-consensual surgery/implants), what sort of blindspots exist in starfleet in regards to augmentations and overall safety of students? this may be more fanfic territory than the show, but I am curious about whether there could be repercussions about that

generally also am fond of rutherford’s mad-scientist tendencies and at least one of his creations is coming back so....

2. I did in fact see that they’re going to Orion so !!!!!!!!!! Is something I’m really excited for! Tendi’s journey of feeling some pride in her heritage has been a great slowburn, so excited for some fallout/payoff?

3. obviously Mariner’s Whole Deal!!!!! which I’ve already written x amount about

4. I also think -- Tendi especially, considering how we’ve seen her doing work internships, but her/Rutherford/Boimler... will get promoted? It’s interesting that the premise of the show in the title “lower decks” creates a tension that three out of four of them want to be promoted and so they’ll be split up (and that’ll be where the show ends? or maybe not?) It’s also got an interesting (queer) idea in it about notions of failure -- lower decks is the bottom rung of the ladder, so technically everyone should be trying to get higher up in the hierarchy of Starfleet in order to be successful

so far that’s been played with -- they’re all very very capable, and so we have Boimler’s confusion about what he needs to do to get noticed, Tendi’s increasingly star student vibe, Rutherford being basically a genius who gets relied on a lot in engineering, and then on the flipside, Mariner’s refusal (so far) to play that game

there’s a longer meta about this concept to be had, but I’d love to see it picked apart a little on the show now that we’re edging ever closer to what feels like the inevitable. my prediction at the moment is that all four of them will be promoted together (or relatively close together) in the narrative, and I’m curious about how these conversations will happen/generally want to see them thinking about it

5. with all of this, I think with Boimler I wouldn’t mind seeing him question the idea that he needs to “fit into the structure” in order to be in starfleet, that there are things to be questioned and he could be part of that next generation (next next generation) to do so. he’s got a lot more power than he thinks he does

6. overall, I like the way the politics of starfleet is depicted. Freeman doesn’t have the same kind of carte blanche power that’s perhaps been seen before (less so with Sisko, although even with him, as a prophet + him being quite far out in space, there was more ability to do some wild stuff) so would like to see more of her fighting to get the respect she deserves!

7. they should go to Cardassia. it’s right there!!! 

[bvannn]

Weekly Update September 15, 2023

Life is hitting hard. I had a big interview for a really important internship, and while I think the interview itself went really well, the rest of the week has been pretty rough, with the exception of a nice discord call I had with a friend. I don’t know how much of this is bad luck, physical stress on my body due to nerves, or bad decisions on my part, but most likely a mixture of the three. I have not heard back from the internship yet but I do think it went really well, it’s the second time I’ve interviewed for it, and I was really close to getting it last time, and that was before I had officially completed all the relevant courses I took that semester, and also before the lab job I worked this summer. I think I’m in good standing, but I don’t want to be overconfident either. I was told I’d hear back by the end of this week, but given that they’re changing a lot about how they’re doing things I was expecting to hear back closer to next Wednesday, which looks to be the case. I’m fine with the wait, but given what my nerves have been doing to my body, it does unfortunately mean I won’t be able to make as much progress on art projects as I’d like.

I said earlier this week I’d be done for the rest of the week, but I have gone back on that a little. I sketched out some nice shots of Shaun to use as more blood practice, which I’d like to digitize in the near future, and I have kept work on TRGA going. I finished up the character animation for shot 1-2, and have started keyframing Jon for 1-3. 1-3 should be a lot quicker, as it’s short, it has few keyframes, and Tim does not appear, meaning there’s theoretically 33% less animation to do (although in practice it’s more like 12-25% less since Tim has been less complex so far, although I know it won’t stay like that). I’ve probably got almost as much done as I would’ve if I hadn’t ‘called this week off’, but I’m still not going to hold myself to my schedule on it until I hear back about the interview (and possibly then some). It’s still going good though.

I’ve also been messing with effects and whatnot for drawings in general, I’d like to be able to animate with some as well, but I’m going to stick with current projects for now. I’d like to mess with after effects as well, as I’ve been learning a bit about the features it has, and I think I can probably do more with it than animate. I think Adobe programs are meant to be used in tandem with one another anyway. I don’t think I’ll need it for the current animation, but I’ll keep it in mind for maybe the next TRGA. Or I could do more tests in-between.

I think I should be investing more time into music as well, should I have time this weekend I may take another crack at it. I’ve been writing down bass patterns as I hear them from music I listen to, although I’m not trained enough I can identify notes of their own, just in relation to one another, so I probably mistranscribed, meaning what I wrote down would technically be original. I’ll try to mess with that and drums, until I get something nice enough sounding. I already tested my strategy for finding original Melodies, and it doesn’t work 100% of the time but it does work. I really should make a bigger push for music I think it would be pretty good for my state of mind. I need to commit to a basic project but I’ll keep the larger one in mind.

I’m going to keep taking it easy but I’ll try to get stuff done. I’ll keep trying.

[inkykeiji]

hi! i have a dumb question but was film school scary? i majored in lit for undergrad and now i’m going to a film program for screenwriting for my masters BUT IM SO SCARED LMAO….like ahhh idk idk!! i have one friend that majored in film for undergrad and she was always studying, working on projects, etc. and now she has so much experience on her resume (w internships, projects etc.) n i don’t have any but got in to the same uni as her (both w screenwriting as our major) so i’m just scared i’m not prepared…

eeeee anon that is so exciting!!!!!! congrats!!!

ah i may not be the best person to ask as i didn’t technically go to film school in the literal sense (aka a program where you are constantly making films & getting hands-on experience), i got a degree in cinema studies (which, in my program, has a program within the cinema studies program for screenwriting that u have to submit a whole application and portfolio for etc). i chose not to go to traditional/hands-on film school because i was privileged enough to have film classes offered at my high school, which i took throughout my entire high school career. i felt like, after four years of practice, i had a pretty good grasp on the practical side of film + editing + all the elements of production n post production, and didn’t want to spend $$$$$ on something i already knew.

but!!! if your masters program is focused on screenwriting, then i don’t think you’ll be doing much hands-on pro / post production stuff??? unless they talk about like on-set rewrites and script doctors, but even then i’d assume that would only be a very small portion of your program. if you can look at the syllabi for a few of your classes you might be able to get a good idea of what to expect!

my point is, if your program is heavily focused on screenwriting (which i assume it would be???) then practical experience on-set + with post production wouldn’t really serve you all that much. if your friend studied film from an academic standpoint & studied film narrative and writing etc or had an internship with a screenwriter (not sure those exist???) or a writers room, then they’d probably have a bit of an upper hand.

either way, i wouldn’t worry too much anon bb <3 you got into the program because the faculty deemed you worthy and capable of being there! they most likely won’t just jump into the material and should offer some sort of refresh/review on the basics before they get started. better yet, they might even fully teach you the basics right off the bat! i can’t say for sure because i don’t know the program u got into obv, but there’s a chance they accepted other lit students too that have a writing background but not a screenwriting background. you probably won’t be alone! and worse case scenario and you feel like you’ve totally been thrown to the sharks, there are tons of incredible screenwriting resources online & in textbooks that you can check out, too!

[pepperdee]

as per the post i just reblogged, 2022 was not a great writeblr year for me

I started this blog in January 2021 (technically december 2020 but i was setting it up for a while) and I ran it pretty consistently. I was doing tag games, I was making friends, I was doing the memes.

Then....i finished a draft in...june? july? one of the j's where it was hot out. and suddenly i was rewriting it again because i'm incapable of finishing anything. and then i did the hellish 18 credit hour semester. which included the design project that, while writing related, delayed any real progress for over a month. and then i did an internship and three workshop classes. and while i could have shared some stuff i put in there, some of it was "too spoilery" for my comfort for the internet; in some ways, real life has more anonymity than the internet in sharing those details. and then it was summer, and i had to move, i had to get a job, and my tumblr bookmarks folder reached nearly 100. and that's of the posts i managed to bookmark. then i was adjusting to a new school and a schedule that was completely full.

but my life is reaching a...balance again, i think. Once I take my last final on Thursday, the only other thing occupying my time is going to be work...but I'm much more comfortable there and I find myself actually being able to think about writing when i'm there.

I've been working on pencil doodles of everyone that i want to include in a brand new wip intro. i'm probably going to download Campfire to my phone so that during slow moments or my breaks i feel like i can work on stuff without having to use the awkward word app. heck, I still got that big ass project file. most of it is still accurate. accurate enough, at least.

I'm also going to try to compile a reading list. I haven't read a book for fun or leisure since, uh.....oh. oh no. i think it was last june. and it was percy jackson. this is worse than i thought. but yeah part of what's messing me up is that i feel like i've forgotten what complete literature is like. my vocabulary is in shambles. but i'm gonna try to read one book a month. i think that, at the very least, is manageable, especially because I'm only taking one english class this spring, so i wont feel like im supposed to be reading so much

[vvh0adie]

Aaahhh 💖 I love youuu 💖 how have you been doing? How's drawing and writing going? Did I miss any new updates btw? 😭

lil big life update ig🙃

WRITER LIFE:

i released Strawberry Kisses which is a cute yoongi fic. some mutual masturbation and miscommunication trope👀 its my most liked fic atm. theres even a drabble for this couple.

i’ve been working on a hobi period sex fic thats already 13k for the 1st part, so its a long series🌚

thinking about doing a drug dealer hobi x stripper reader wip. i already have too many wips. and i wanted to do another hopekook series🤦🏽‍♀️

also working on illumi zoldyck fic after starting a rewatch of hxh (1 of my fav animes). two in the works: one with just illumi and another with illumi/machi/shizuku/reader😭 a fourple?

thinking about BTS blog hiatus so i can focus on KCG bc ppl are asking about my All of Us Are Dead fic. so i need to write the second chapter to that.

[more personal below | tw: race relations]

MINOR PERSONAL LIFE:

need to practice driving😐 my bitch ass is 20yrs and cant drive. im a lil scared no lie bcuz memphis drivers are wild😭 i gotta get my license by november or i have to take the permit test over again😰

im finally starting to do technical labs for biotech/forensics🎉 one step closer to my internship!

a little behind on criminal investigation😞

im a little scared how chemistry 2 is gonna go this year. i dont know whats going on😦 im so lost😭

i started my laptop but never opened clip studio😭 i really wanna draw hobi tho. and i need to make stuff for my shop that i really wanna open. i need motivation😞

thinking about learning to code😭 it seems easy; just a lot of words. i wanna design websites. maybe some BT21 themed. now javascript kinda scares me.

MAJOR PERSONAL LIFE:

overall im doing aight so far this year. could be better i think

ive only cried twice this month😀 having some self-image/identity issues and managing to keep my sanity in check with Black History Month after that police brutality murder here in memphis and Ron Desantis bullying the College Board into turning AP Black History into a whitewashed history and Black Conservatism. i feel too hyperaware of the fuckery that is america. it feels like me and every other black person are the only ones really seeing this shit. its tiring and makes me harbor a different kind of hate in my heart for the concept of whiteness that i didnt even know was there. its somewhat hard to see people’s humanity or feel safe around them. i hate to even say this, but since something major happened january, maybe nothing will happen this summer unlike May 2020. im trying to take it one day at a time tho... hehe

you probably weren’t expecting all that but i figured id turn this into a general post😭 sorry if this was too much, even the non heavy stuff. i know when people ask how someones doing they’re prolly asking for something simple but this feels more like a diary entry than anything.

but thanks for asking, not many people do💖 i hope everyone has a kinder year

[kylie]

Hi folks! It's time for a slightly redundant introduction on a blog I've had for more than a decade.

My name is Kylie Robison, I'm a technology reporter for Fortune Magazine. Before that, I was working at Business Insider. Many of you on here know me as "preteenager," a URL I've had since the word was applicable to my age.

Many of you have followed me for more than a decade, and when Yahoo decimated this website, some of you followed me to Twitter. If you've forgotten about me since 2015, you might only know me as the person who asked how popcorn does that thing.

I've missed Tumblr a lot, I spent most of my youth reblogging late into the night until I hit my limit for the day. One of my most sacred memories was staying up all night on Tumblr just before my 14th birthday fiddling with my theme's HTML. That month, Frank Ocean released Channel Orange, along with a text post about his sexuality. This website was so fuckin good back then.

I don't really remember when I stopped being so active here. It was a slow trickle of declining usage through the end of high school, and everyone in my school started using Twitter. Over on that platform, I went through a few usernames (based babe, myspace mami, fijibongwater, molly mom, and of course, preteenager). By college, all Tumblr activity ceased and I started getting more involved in "tech twitter." I was studying business management information systems, and I wanted to get a job in developer relations. My audience became people in their mid-30s and on who wanted to support my professional endeavors.

Then, in my junior year of college, I joined a student publication called The State Hornet. I wanted to write about technology, and flex those blogging muscles I hadn't used since my heyday on this platform. I had an op-ed column called "kyliebytes," which ended up being my final username on Twitter.

Those articles got shared by those same nice people who wanted to support my professional endeavors. I also reached out to a reporter I idolized named Taylor Lorenz for advice on how to get into the field, and because she's so kind and I'm so lucky, she started sharing my articles with her thousands of followers.

Because of that newfound reach, an editor at Business Insider happened to come across these articles and a few of my dorky try-hard tweets about wanting to become a tech reporter. He reached out, I interviewed for an internship, got the job, and here I am today.

At Fortune Magazine, I write about the not-at-all-controversial Twitter. As a result of some slightly chaotic business decisions by its new CEO Elon Musk, I've been pretty busy writing about it every day while simultaneously growing a sizeable audience on the platform (mostly composed of people who just want to see what crazy shit is going to happen next).

The infrastructure there under Musk has been notably more fragile, and people (including myself) are looking for a place to move their audiences before things get too dire. Some have moved to Mastodon, which is annoyingly technical. I found myself really missing Tumblr, but couldn't imagine using a blog dubbed "preteenager" at the ripe old age of 24. I hoarded @kyliebytes and @kylierobison, but didn't really consider it further.

Much to my luck, the CEO of this site tweeted "if you have a ton of followers on Twitter and want to switch over and there's a held-but-unavailable username you want, reply here and I'll see what we can do." I messaged him a few weeks ago for @kylie but never heard back.

Yesterday, Twitter rolled out a controversial new policy that banned users from linking to other social media platforms. "Follow me on Mastodon/Instagram/etc at @kyliebytes" would get you suspended. Also, linktree's were banned, which is what I used to direct my audience to my articles and other social media platforms. It was a hot mess, and Twitter reversed the policy a few hours later.

In those few hours though, I was like uhh... fuck this? Let me just set up a Tumblr really quickly that serves the same purpose. I logged in, and saw that the CEO gave me the new username but forgot to respond, I suppose. A caveat to giving me the username: I have to be active or they'll take it back (or if Kylie Jenner wants it, probably). Fair play!

So here I am, a decade later, using my favorite platform again. I'm going to still use @preteenager to reblog shitposts and pretty pictures, you're welcome to follow me there. I'm going to use my cool new URL for whatever I want, I guess. Mostly going to be news, blogging, probably a lot of shitposts, etc.

I've missed you guys and this place dearly. I'm happy to be back with a very traditional and slightly cringe blog post that probably could have been less than 200 words.

You can also follow me at:

IG: @kylie.robison Twitter: @kyliebytes Mastodon: kylierobison@mastodon.social