#listen. i LOVE statistical analysis

[best-fnaf-song-competition]

Kinda funny kinda sad that the average poll vote tally is about 15-20 until we get to the big artists (average of 60-80) AND CRIES OF THE MISSING VS. GRAVEYARD SHIFT (CURRENTLY 79???)

GUYSSSS GO LISTEN TO THE OTHER SONGS PLEAAAASE THEYRE ALSO SO GOOD I PROMISE

[roturo]

SUCCESSOR -`♡´-

summary: He believes he’s going to die soon, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable. He needs a successor. And soon.

warnings: A LOT of breeding, smut, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds, pwp, tummy buldge, mentions of cum, mating press, virgin!L, obssesed!L, mentions of forming a family, not proof read and sleepy while writing this. and more.

a/n: ik this is going to have as much support as my other works, but it's def one of my best and favs writings, so please show me your support with a comment and reblog! it means a lot for me!

You've been part of the task force for a while now, ever since L handpicked you for his elite team. As a regular member, you've earned your place and trust within the group. The necessity of keeping your identity hidden has diminished, thanks to the expanding team, but you still opt for an alias during meetings, maintaining a veil of secrecy around your true connection to L.

L’s mind is a labyrinth, each thought of a winding path leading to an unknown destination. His strategies are always a step ahead, his deductions razor-sharp. Yet, despite his brilliance, one specific thought has been haunting him lately:

He believes he’s going to die soon.

This isn't a paranoid delusion but a calculated assessment. L understands the immense dangers tied to the Kira case. The complexity of the situation has grown, and he suspects an external force at play, one that eludes even his grasp. This unknown entity has shifted the balance, making the case more perilous than ever.

L is determined not to let his legacy end prematurely. He has dedicated his life to solving the world’s most challenging mysteries, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable.

He needs a successor.

And soon.

Finding someone who can match his intellect and tenacity is no simple task. The successor must be able to understand his intricate methods, to carry on his relentless pursuit of justice. The urgency of this mission weighs heavily on him, as he prepares to identify and groom the next guardian of his legacy.

You were the perfect match for him, and his calculations confirmed it. There was an 86% probability that having a child with you would result in someone with a higher IQ than his own, combined with the social skills he lacked. In the realm of interpersonal relationships, L was inexperienced, never having had a relationship or intimacy before. Recently, he had been contemplating how to propose this idea to you.

Should he ask you outright? Should he try to make you fall in love with him first? No, this wasn't about love. It was a precaution, a step in his investigation, a way to ensure his legacy continued if the worst were to happen.

The atmosphere in the headquarters was tense as always, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room. You sat at your desk, engrossed in your work, when L’s quiet footsteps approached. His presence was magnetic, his aura of mystery and intellect always palpable. He paused beside you, his gaze fixed on the monitors displaying the latest updates on the Kira case.

“Can we talk?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, a rare departure from his usual confident demeanor.

You looked up, surprised by the uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone. “Of course, L. What’s on your mind?”

He shifted, glancing around the room as if searching for the right words. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. It’s… personal.”

Your curiosity piqued, you nodded, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re aware of the importance of my work, of the dangers we face daily. The Kira case has made me realize that I must consider contingencies I hadn’t thought of before.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“There’s a… statistical analysis I’ve conducted,” he said, his voice becoming more clinical as he explained. “It suggests that if I were to have a child with someone of your intelligence and social capabilities, the child would have a higher IQ than mine and possess the social skills I lack. This could be crucial in continuing my work if anything were to happen to me.”

The gravity of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. L, always methodical and rational, had approached this highly personal matter with the same analytical mindset he used to solve cases. You could see the logic in his plan, yet the implications were overwhelming.

“So, you want me to… have a child with you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes unwavering. “But understand, this is not about emotions or personal desire...I think” He whispers to himself before he continues– “It’s a precaution, a part of my contingency planning. I’ve never experienced a relationship or intimacy, so I’m uncertain how to approach this.”

The room seemed to close in around you as you processed his request. It was a cold, calculated proposition, yet it carried a weight of vulnerability and trust. L was placing his future, his legacy, in your hands.

“How do you expect this to work, L?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and trepidation.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his facade of invincibility cracking slightly. “I’ve considered different approaches. Should I simply ask you directly? Should I try to make you fall in love with me first? But this isn’t about love. It’s about ensuring that if I am no longer here, someone capable can continue my work.”

A silence fell between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. L’s eyes searched yours, looking for understanding, perhaps even acceptance. You could see the conflict within him, the struggle between his logical mind and the unfamiliar territory of human connection.

“I need time to think about this,” you finally said, your voice gentle but firm.

L nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “Of course. Take all the time you need. This is not a decision to be made lightly.”

Finally, you made your decision.

One evening, you found L in his usual spot, hunched over his laptop, eyes glued to the screen. The dim light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his focus. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“L,” you said softly, breaking the silence. He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting yours.

“I’ve thought about what you asked,” you continued, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “And I agree.”

For a moment, L simply stared at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he nodded, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. “Understood. Thank you for your cooperation.”

You took a seat across from him, the air between you charged with a new sense of purpose. “How do we proceed?”

L leaned back, his thumb brushing his bottom lip in thought. “We need to ensure this doesn’t disrupt our work or compromise the investigation. The task force must not be aware of our personal connection, as it could create complications.”

You nodded, understanding the delicate balance that needed to be maintained. L’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I must admit that emotional connections are not my area of expertise. This will be… a learning experience.  Should… we do it tonight?”

“Ah- Ah- Slow down, L-Lawliet!” you gasped, your voice breaking with a mix of pleasure and urgency.

L’s thrusts were sloppy but fast, driven more by instinct than experience. His movements lacked rhythm, a clear sign of his inexperience. He had come twice already without withdrawing from you, his body responding purely on primal urges.

He had done his research, concluding that a mating press might be the most effective position for this purpose. But he never anticipated how overwhelmingly good it would feel. Was it like this with everyone? Or was it something unique because it was you?

His thrusts grew more erratic, almost desperate. Small whines escaped his mouth, each one tinged with your name like a prayer. You could feel every twitch, every movement inside you, the raw intensity of his desire almost too much to bear.

“L,” you whispered, trying to regain some control. “You need to… slow down.”

He nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. “I’m trying,” he panted, his voice unsteady. “It’s just… so overwhelming.”

His usually sharp, calculating mind seemed lost in the haze of sensation. Every thrust, every brush of skin against skin, was a new experience for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between maintaining control and giving in to the raw pleasure.

He moaned at the familiar, overwhelming sensation of climaxing again, and you could feel your own release approaching. The intensity was almost unbearable when he grabbed a pillow and slipped it under your back, angling you into an even deeper mating press. His thrusts became more deliberate, his cock somehow reaching deeper, hitting your g-spot with precision over and over again.

The pleasure was so intense, so all-consuming, that all you could do was chant his name like a mantra, each syllable a prayer of ecstasy. “L-Lawliet,” you breathed, your voice trembling with the force of your impending climax.

He watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his own pleasure driving him to thrust harder, faster. “S-shit,” he gasped, his breath hitching, “I think—” His words dissolved into a whine as he came again inside you, his release flooding your womb with a desperate, addictive need.

This wasn’t just about producing a successor anymore. It was about the raw, primal satisfaction of filling you over and over again. He was captivated by the sight of your bodies joined, the way your mixed arousal leaked from where you were connected, glistening in the dim light.

“Lawliet,” you cried out, your own climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, milking every last drop of his release as he continued to thrust, his movements erratic and needy.

He whimpered, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, his dark hair falling in a messy curtain around your face. “You feel… incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion and exertion.

He groaned before pressing his lips to yours, the kiss deep and fervent. His cock remained erect inside you, pulsing with an insatiable desire. The feeling of having you this close, of being connected so intimately, was overwhelming. In that moment, he lost all sense of reason and the initial purpose behind his actions.

His mind, usually so sharp and focused on the Kira case, was now clouded with visions of a future he never thought he'd consider. He imagined how adorable you would look, carrying his child, a baby with his eyes and your smile. The idea of having a family with you consumed him, pushing all thoughts of logic and strategy aside.

Without realizing it, he began thrusting again, the movement instinctual and desperate. Each thrust was deliberate, fulfilling the small bump of cum inside you that was already visible through your tummy. He watched in awe, fascinated by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately, the tangible evidence of his desire and your shared pleasure.

“L-Lawliet,” you gasped against his lips, your hands clutching his shoulders as he moved within you. “What... what are you thinking?”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking about us. About a future I never allowed myself to dream of.” His voice was rough with emotion, a raw edge that you rarely heard.

Your heart swelled at his words, the vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor striking a chord deep within you. “Lawliet,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. “I never imagined… I never thought you’d want this.Want me”

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, his thrusts growing more purposeful. “But now, with you, that's all I can think about. The idea of you carrying my child, of us having a family…you in general… it’s overwhelming.”

He kissed you again, more gently this time, savoring the softness of your lips against his. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, the sensation heightened by the emotional intensity of the moment. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve, every detail.

“Do you… do you want this too?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you breathed, the admission freeing a weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. “I want this. I want us.”

His eyes darkened with a mix of relief and desire, and he kissed you harder, his movements inside you becoming more urgent. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, each moan and gasp a testament to the bond growing between you.

As he continued to thrust, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his rhythm intensifying as he chased his own release.

“Lawliet,” you cried out, your climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

He groaned, his own release following closely behind, filling you once more. The feeling was addictive, the raw intimacy of it all-consuming. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered mostly to himself, his voice filled with wonder.

“Neither can I,” you replied, your heart pounding in sync with his. “But it feels right. It feels perfect.”

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “It does.”

You stayed entwined like that, savoring the afterglow and the newfound depth of your connection. The Kira case and the outside world faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of each other’s presence and the promise of a future together.

Eventually, as the reality of your situation began to seep back in, you knew you had to return to your duties. But the bond you had forged would remain, a source of strength and comfort in the days to come.

As L gently pulled out and helped you adjust, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly in a small whisper. “Together.”

“Together,” you echoed, your heart filled with a certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.

[skzdarlings]

Chan with ❛ that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me. ❜

summary: your husband is a university professor. when you sit in on one of his lectures, it gives both of you an idea...

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: husband!chan, kinky professor/student roleplay, though reader is his wife and not actually a student. dom!chan, sub!reader, degrading language (stupid, dumb, slut). corruption kink, power dynamics kink. explicit sexual content. word count: 2380 words.

part of the valentine's day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Chan is giving a lecture when you reach the university.   You kill some time and grab a coffee, ambling around campus and idling in corridors until your wandering leads you to his hall.  The main doors are propped open, likely for air circulation with the spring heat, and you smile at his voice spilling into the hallway. 

It is a big lecture hall.  He is teaching a beginner level so the class is substantially large, a couple hundred freshman packed inside.  No one will notice an extra presence.  There are a few empty seats scattered across the back row so you slip inside and quietly take one. 

You like seeing Chan in his element.  Your husband is something of a chameleon, spending his down time in hoodies and baseball caps, listening to music and giggling at his own goofy jokes.  You almost forget his professional side, his prestigious and academic character.  He loves his research and his work and his students and it shows in every remark and gesticulation.  

You adore him.  His passion and intelligence never cease to amaze you.

Though right now your loving attention strays to his appearance.  You must admit: your husband is a hottie.  You suspect the tittering co-eds in the first few rows are not as interested in statistical analysis as their rapt attention might suggest.

Professor Bang Chan stands at the front of the hall, dressed down to his shirtsleeves.  His suit jacket has been tossed over the desk.  His pants are pressed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but his neat black hair is just this side of dishevelled, like he has been running his fingers through it. 

You slouch in your seat and smile a cheesy smile as you watch him work. 

He looks around the hall as he lectures, attentive to every student.   In his perusal, his eyes skim the back row.  They stop on you.   

“And that’s why we, uh, ah…” He stumbles so noticeably that a few heads turn to see what caught his eye.   He laughs and waves, drawing their attention again.  “Sorry, sorry, as I was saying…”    

Your smile only widens.  There is a little flutter in your heart as your husband looks at you with a glimmer in his eye.  You rest your head on your fist and watch the rest of the lecture without any interruption.  

You stay seated when it ends and the students file out.  Chan lingers by his desk to sort his papers.  You just admire him for a moment, then you make your way down the aisle.  He lifts his head, smiling at you.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, shrugging on his jacket.  “You’re early.” 

“Yeah, I thought traffic would be worse.”  

“Hungry?”

“Definitely, Professor,” you say.  Your original plans were dinner, but you lift an eyebrow while smirking, suggesting a different kind of hunger entirely. 

It makes him laugh, a nervous sort of laugh.  You are charmed by the tips of his ears turning red, a testament to your ability to fluster your man well into your marriage. 

“What’s wrong, Professor?” you ask, reaching up to touch his face.   “Aren’t you hungry too?”

He stares back at you for a moment.  His gaze is resolute despite his faint blush.  You cannot help your delight. 

“Ooh,” you say.  “Do you like it when I call you Professor, Professor?”

He finally takes your hand and lowers it. 

“I’m a professional,” is what he says, which is definitely not an answer to the question you asked.  He kisses your cheek before you can protest his reply, then he winks and grabs his bag.  “Come on,” he says, “I just have to put some stuff in my office.  Then we’ll go grab dinner.” 

You suspend your teasing for the time being, talking about your day as you cross campus in the sunshine.  You take the stairs up to the office floor, winding around the labyrinthine assembly of empty offices.  It is quite late in the afternoon, plenty of people seemingly packed up and gone for the day. 

He unlocks his office and lets you both in.  While he goes to his desk to sort his stuff, you close and lock the door.  He does not notice your deliberate movements, still talking about mundane nothings.  You do love your endless conversations, whether casual or important, but right now you are less preoccupied with Channie than Professor Chan.  There is something about seeing your husband like this, smart, competent, confident, and so in charge of his space. 

“Baby girl?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow at your slow, slinky approach.  “What’s up?” 

You circle the desk and lay a hand on his chest, smoothing your palm down his lapel.  You swear his eyes somehow darken, narrowing in focus, his whole expression coloured differently than before. 

“What are you doing?” he asks. 

“I know you’re married, Professor,” you say, blinking oh-so innocently at him.  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… it’s just that I… I need…”

He lets you nudge him back onto the desk chair behind him.  He gazes up as you lean over him. 

“Baby,” he says, warningly, but does not move or push your hands away. 

“We’re all alone, Professor,” you say.  “The door is locked.  No one will ever find out.” 

“Ah. Is that right?” he asks, looking like he is on the verge of giggles.  He sighs instead, dropping his chin and shaking his head, playfully disappointed.  With another breath, he lifts his head, and your sweet husband dons a more predatory air.   

He does not even have to say anything, does not even have to touch you.  He just has to look at you with all that desire in his eyes, turning your insides molten.  Every dirty thought is plain in how he checks you out.

“I saw you looking at me in class today,” you say, breathless already.  “Did you think I looked pretty, Professor?”                                         

“I think,” he says, “I was impressed you were sitting there, actually listening for once.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he touches a shushing finger to your lips.  He shakes his head. 

“Nuh-uh,” he says.  “Tell me what you want before I throw you out of my office.”  He cups your jaw, his gaze so clearly centred on your lips. 

“Oh, please, don’t do that,” you say.  “I need you, Professor.  I mean, I need your help.”

“I think you’re beyond help, baby girl,” he says.  He momentarily breaks character to glance at the wall, then he looks at you with a quirked brow.  “We are at my work, maybe we should—”

“I know you,” you reply.  

Because you do.  You and your husband are no strangers to roleplay or kinky fun, your desires and boundaries and safewords known.  Your backside is still tender from a good spanking the night before, just enough to leave you squirming today.  You were pent-up before you even saw Professor Chan administering his lecture.  But now that you have, now that you are here, you cannot let it go.  And given the way he is looking at you, he feels the same way.

“You’ve been hard since I called you Professor in the lecture hall,” you say. 

“Since I saw you sitting in my classroom, actually,” he corrects.  “I could fill in the rest with my own imagination.  Just… looking at you…”  He takes another breath and looks you over.  His gaze is heady.  “God, you just get me going every time, you know that?” 

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you say with another smirk.  Then you pout, batting your eyelashes, as you sink to your knees in front of him.  “Please, Professor,” you say.  “I’m begging you.  I need a good grade or else.  I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything,” he says.  “That’s, ah… that’s a bold statement.  Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I am,” you say.  You clasp your hands.  “Anything at all.” 

“You know, a man who is not as nice me could do bad things to you, baby.   A pretty girl like you.  It’s like you want someone to take advantage of you, yeah?”  He cups your jaw and tilts your face up, looking at your mouth thoughtfully, smiling as he circles his thumb over your lips.  “They could be really mean to you,” he says.  “Make you do things you don’t like.  Maybe even hurt you, baby.”

“But you wouldn’t do those things,” you say with a watery sniffle.  “You’re a good professor. I can trust you.”

“Of course you can,” he says.  With his thumb, he tugs your bottom lip down.  It flips back up with a bounce.  “I’ll help you then, if you do what I say.”

“Oh yes, of course, Professor, anything,” you say. You start to stand when he puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Naw, naw,” he says.  “You stay there for me.”

“On my knees?”  You blink up at him.  “What for?” 

“Tsk.  Baby.  You know what for.”  He pats your head like he would an especially dumb puppy.  “You’re just a pretty face,” he says, “but you’re not that stupid.  You know what you’re good for at least, don’t you?”   

He cups your chin.  Before you can reply, his thumb is forcing its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, staring up at him while sucking diligently. 

“That’s it,” he says, and slides free with a wet little pop.  “Good job.  See?”  He speaks with saccharine sweetness, completely condescending as he pats your cheek.  “You are good at something.”  He unbuttons your shirt with deft swiftness, your breasts already heaving in your low-cut bra when he pushes the material off your shoulders.  He laughs to himself as he says, “It’s just the only thing you’re good at is being a dumb slut, but that’s okay, yeah?” 

“I… I guess…”

“Shh, it’s okay.”  He covers you whole mouth with his hand, tugging you close while he undoes his belt with the other.  “You don’t need to talk,” he says.  “No one needs to hear what you think.  Open your mouth for me.   That’s a good girl.  Come on.  You can take it.” 

With a shuffle, he gets his pants open and partially down, enough to get himself out.  He is already rock hard as he guides you forward, sliding into your waiting mouth.  He grunts with deep, obvious pleasure. 

He lets you take over, sitting back while you suck his cock with expert knowledge of exactly what he likes, when to take him deep, when to lick and suck and swallow.  You stop for a breath and his cock smacks your cheek.  Then suddenly he is standing and taking you with him, wasting no time bending you over his desk. 

“Professor!” you say, pushing your ass out with your theatrically scandalized cry.  “Oh no, sir, I’ve never done this before, please, ahh—”   

He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through all the wet arousal there.  He slides two fingers into you easily, with no resistance at all.  He leans down and laughs against the nape of your neck.

“I find that hard to believe,” he says, fucking you steadily with his hand.  “I think I’m not the only professor you’ve done this for, am I, baby?” 

“Ohh,” is all you manage, out of character and genuinely moaning as he works you towards a quick orgasm.  “Channie, you’re gonna make me come,” you warn, wriggling. 

Your moans turn to pathetic little whimpers when he wraps a strong arm around you, locking you in place as he lines up behind you. 

“What’s that?” he asks, holding you tight.  It stops you from writhing while he pushes his wet dick inside you, inch by slow inch.  “I’m not Channie, am I?” he says.  “What do you call me?  Huh?  Dumb little girl.”  He swats your ass and you yelp, clenching around him.  “Try again,” he says. 

“Oh, Professor,” you say.  Then you cannot help but giggle, recalling his evasion when you teased him in the lecture hall.  The evidence of his desire says it all.  “That really does make you hard,” you laugh, breathlessly, “I can feel you pulsing inside me.”

You squeak when he pushes you down onto the desk, holding your hips as he thrusts into you with more vigour.  Then you are not saying anything, just moaning and riding out every quick snap of his hips.  You are not sure how he manages to find the softest, squishiest, more sensitive place inside you, every time, no matter the place or position, sending you hurtling towards to an orgasm at breakneck speed. 

“Oh, help, Professor, I’m gonna—”

“Me too, baby,” he says.  “All inside you.”

“Ohh, fuck—”  You come with a shuddering convulsion, twitching and clenching, your eyes closed as you pant into the wooden surface of his desk.  Your orgasm ends and he is still fucking you, drawing it out.  Your voice is guttural, low and breathy as you say, “Professor, be careful, we have no protection…”

He lifts you up, arches your back, and covers your mouth.

“I… told… you…”  He punctuates each sound with a hard thrust.  “To… be… quiet…” 

Then he drives into you and stays there, groaning into your neck as he comes and comes.   When his hand drops, you take in a gulp of air, shivering from the aftershocks of pleasure.  You are spilling out of your bra from all the jostling, your skirt in disarray.  You whimper when he pulls out of you, then again when he just covers you back up with your panties.  They are soaked in a second. 

“Maybe, uh,” he says with one of his funny, embarrassed, little giggles.  “Maybe we should stop by home and clean up before we go for dinner.” 

You giggle too, turning around to face him.  You fix your shirt while he tucks himself back into his pants.  He is already blushing and smiling that dimpled smile, looking all sweet and goofy as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out on his desk. 

“Good idea,” you say.  “That’s why you’re the professor.” 

He laughs.  Looking at you fondly, he cups your cheek and pulls you in for a long, tender kiss.    

[luveline]

hi honey, i love you so so much!!

what about stripper!reader with derek morgan?? he's on a case where strippers are being murdered, and while hotch is driving morgan calls you and tells you not to go into work because of what's going on, and emily is listening in on the conversation from the backseat and they tease him

thank youu!! love you!

ty for requesting lovely!! ilysm ♡

"I know you don't like listening to me, but could you do me a favour? Just this once?" 

Emily leans over in her seat so Spencer can see her side eye. "Who's Morgan talking to?" 

"Stay home tonight. No, this isn't a jealousy thing, you vixen–" 

Spencer shrugs. "No idea. But–" 

"But," Emily agrees. They've just left a crime scene with a specific victim, and now Morgan's on the phone asking someone to stay home. That someone would have reason to visit said crime scene's location, and the word vixen suggests female rather than male, which means, "Morgan has a secret stripper girlfriend." 

Spencer's entire face takes his frown, eyebrows pinched, mouth quirked into a telling line. "I like the implausible," he murmurs, "but that feels illogical. Where would they have met?"

"Uh," Emily says, widening her eyes at him. "Where do you think, Spence?" 

"Morgan doesn't need to go to a strip club." 

Emily understands what Spencer's saying. There are lots of reasons that people frequent strip clubs or gentlemen's clubs and none of those reasons apply to Derek. It's possible he could go socially, but it's just so unlike him, it doesn't add up. 

"I'm telling you the truth. I can't give you more detail than that, I just need you to stay home tonight." Derek pauses, laughs. "Alright," —his voice takes on a mechanical rendition, clearly having been fed a line he has to repeat aloud— "I, Derek Morgan, am an ignorant, jealous man, who can't cope with the fact that you don't want me, and am making up sad and childish lies to get you to stay home from your job. Is that what you wanted? Yeah, laugh it up." 

Emily laughs and grabs the headrest as he hangs up on you, pulling herself forward to taunt him as is required. "Care to explain yourself?" 

Derek sighs. "This is why I didn't tell you guys." 

"What!" Spencer says, though his smile is more audible than his incredulity. 

"So you have something to tell us?" Emily asks. 

Derek knows he can't weasel his way out of telling them, and he doesn't really want to. "I don't have a secret stripper girlfriend," he says, rolling his eyes, "she's not my girlfriend. She is an exotic dancer at one of the clubs downtown, and I met her at Home Depot." 

Emily isn't perturbed that Derek heard their gossiping. She's shameless. She doesn't even care that Hotch is frowning behind the wheel. "What was an exotic dancer doing at Home Depot?"

"Weirdly, Emily, she has a home. She wanted help finding renter friendly flooring." 

"Can we meet her?" 

"Never," Derek says with a smile. Emily couldn't know this, but he really likes you. You're sweet, super funny, and yes, you're a stripper. You work hard. Pole dancing is as physically demanding as any manual labour and you're damn good at it. "Ever." 

Spencer interjects the ensuing argument with a statistical analysis of strippers who are homeowners (unfairly few), but Morgan doesn't answer, trying to read a new text from you discretely. 

Sorry if I embarrassed you at work :( is it really not safe to go ?? Maybe u can come and be my bodyguard. I won't even make u tip me 4:10PM

He sends back, Really not safe. Stay home for me, relax for a few days. Call you tonight even if nothing changes 4:11PM

My hero <3 I trust u, but be careful OK ? and pls if it isn't too much trouble can u bring back some of those weird candies again? thank u thank u <3<3<3 4:14PM

Hotch makes a quiet sound of approval, eyes on the road. "The same girl you were with at Docklands? Rossi said she was cute." 

"She is." 

"Rossi met her?" Emily asks. "Oh, you're the worst."

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [1]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants. Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but what you can't do is accept the fact that they're your soulmates.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory

Words: 5k

haha heyy I'm back after a year. Still suffering from writer's block so here's the start of a series I created during it, forcing myself to actually write. There's no set schedule but I'll try my best to do it weekly. That is all and pre-save Neva Play :DD

[1] [2] [3]

__________

Maybe you should've cut off your mother before you went past the age for mark appearances.

If you had then maybe you wouldn't be suffering with the overcompensating rant about an unfortunate man and his bare minimum achievements.

What are you, Bangtan's—The current biggest boyband in the world—makeup artists since their era of wearing thick eyeliners to convey their passion and emo inspired hairstyles, doing, listening to someone's so-called gratifying achievements?

Staring at the source of the grating voice babbling nonsense, you refrain yourself from letting out a heavy sigh.

Jeong Binwoo is a stout man. His roundness is enhanced by the fact that he's an inch or so shorter than you on a good day. His face reminds you of a dumpling, especially now that he's stuffing it with a handful of greasy fries in quick successions. Despite his full mouth, he kept on speaking and you swore a few stray blobs had landed on your plate.

You've only just a week and a half before the start of their tour in Seoul and here you are wasting your time sitting in front of a man whose awareness is limited to only himself when you could've been at work or binging some stupid cliche drama.

Maybe you should've listened to Namjoon's statistical analysis of your dates this year and never bothered going to this meeting as well.

Your mother's recommendations so far had never brought you a man decent enough nor carry an ounce of respect your father has for your mother. Why you still try and date them is a question you've asked yourself one too many times.

His rant was the standard overcompensating life story of a man unfortunate enough to be given an ugly mug and an even uglier fate. A conversation topic you've been subjected to far more often than you'd liked but still smooths out your brain every time you're forced to listen to it. It might not be but it must've been an hour already since he started listing out the same adult milestones he achieved in his 28th year—you've done the same at a younger age, 20 to be exact.

Binwoo reached for your fries shamelessly when his fingers found his bowl empty and you couldn't stop yourself from grimacing this time. 

He was actually decent , compared to the other guys you've met before whose mouth spouted bullshit even the devil himself would gasp at. The man actually bought you a gift and opened and held the door for you.

'How disturbing that you think the bare minimum is a sign of a good man, noona.' A voice suspiciously sounding like Namjoon echoes in your head and you sighed for the nth time that afternoon.

If you weren't so weak against your mother's wishes, you would've been doing work instead of putting up with horrid dates over and over again. You'd willingly take on styling an energetic Jungkook at 6am trying to dodge your brushes and play fights with them then sit in front of another insecure man.

A clang of a metal utensil making contact on the tile took your attention to the two men sitting a few tables in front of you. Suddenly, you're reminded of the lovely bodyguards who have volunteered to watch the mess that is your love life for lunch.

You caught one of their gaze when he looked over his shoulder, pitiful, before kicking his friend's leg and picking up his phone.

Immediately, a vibration rang from your bag and you checked the message as discreetly as you could.

[13:24] Mimi: I feel so bad for you, noona. Is this really how guys are like these days? [13:24] Mimi: It's appalling how he thinks finally getting his own space at 28 is impressive. [13:24] Tete: do you need help? Please say yes, I don't think I can sit through the whole date and hear this bull. [13:25] Tete: Just seeing it is mentally scarring enough, I can't imagine how you're feeling as the one that has to actually listen.

"Hey, are you still listening? I hope I'm not talking too much." A voice interrupts before you could reply.

Looking up from your phone, Binwoo's face now displayed a sheepish smile, the smear of ketchup on the edge of his lips not going unnoticed. His greasy hand had reached behind his head to scratch the back of his nape and you had to gather every strength in your body to not grimace when the same fingers he ate with met scalp.

You try not to notice how oily and stiff his hair already looked. You really tried.

You shook your head despite wanting it all to end for the sake of appearing respectful and the man immediately continued his empty boasting, the same hand he scratched his neck returning to claw down at your fries without another thought and immediately your phone pings again.

[13:29] Mimi: did he just  [13:29] Mimi: did he just eat with the same hand he scratched with? On your plate of fries? [13:29] Mimi: I'm gonna barf [13:30] Mimi: Please free us from this torture, noona. My heart can only take so much [13:30] Tete: Screw this, we're going back. I can't do this anymore

A screech of a chair being dragged through tile took your attention back to the masked men in front of you and saw the tall and imposing form of Taehyung marching towards your table, brown beanie hiding his dyed hair and a black mask covering half of his face.

"The fucking gull you have to show your face here after you ran away with my heart last week!"

You sigh internally and hope he's not about to choose an embarrassing trope to follow through this time.

If he takes on another dramatic golden-spooned CEO character who throws tantrums when he can't do or get what he wants, you might just stab yourself with the butter knife next to you. Witnessing and being on the receiving end of his tantrums, even if it's acting, in such a public place like the park once is enough.

With a silent wish that Tae has picked a good trope to follow this time, you followed his lead.

Comically widening your eyes, your gaze bounced from Taehyung and Binwoo with a mystified look before sputtering out a reply.

"Wo-Wooyoung! I thought you went back to the states! How's being home again feels like?"

"Is this how you're gonna be? You're just gonna act like everything's alright after you took my youth ?!"

A couple of gasps erupted from the guests around you, in the seas of scandalized reactions there's a burst of hushed giggles from one guy in black from a particular table and you refrain yourself from glaring at his ducked head and shaking shoulders. The phone pointed in your direction didn't go unnoticed, no doubt recording it all from start to finish to send to the group chat as he always does.

Ever your biggest supporter.

At this point, everyone in the restaurant is looking at the three of you. A glance at Binwoo told you of how close you are to freedom. The man has hunched his shoulders, shrinking into himself, trying to disappear from the public gaze while his eyes busied itself by tracing the details on the tiles. He has long stopped from eating now as he hangs his head in embarrassment, ashamed to be associated with you.

"Hey, I'm sorry man. I didn't know you were like that, in your profile it said that you were experienced in hammering."

"I do woodworking, of course I'm amazing at it!"

You hear a dull thud erupt from two tables over. At the edge of your eyes you see Jimin hitting the table with a closed fist, his giggles a little louder; enough to gather a few confused eyes but quiet enough to limit the range to the patrons next to him.

"I-I'm so sorry."

Binwoo flushes before darting out, towing his black suitcase that looked suspiciously light, away from the eyes of everyone in the restaurant and relief floods your body, muscles relaxing as you watch his form disappear behind the partition between the tables and the exit.

You stare up at Taehyung to find him already looking back at you with crinkled eyes past the dim shades he was wearing, his cheekbones poking above the mask as he smiled.

With your date finally out of the shot, Jimin's laughter explodes into loud cackles of a mad man as he stands, stumbling before he manages to approach you both. When he was close enough, he latched onto Tae's arm to stabilize himself as he held up his phone with the camera app open. Immediately, everyone's displeasure echoed in the room at the implication that the intense scene they just witnessed was a part of a vlog.

Despite how much of a spur of a moment their plan seemed, the duo has managed to construct a simple start and conclusion to their plan and you couldn't be more proud of your smart boys.

Taehyung turned to the mass and bowed.

"I'm sorry for disrupting everyone's afternoon, I was just saving my sister from a bad date and decided to make a vlog out of it. We're really sorry." Taehyung exclaimed.

The disturbed patrons' voices grew louder and angrier, a few attempting to approach your little group to possibly get physical.

Next thing you know, Tae's grabbing the paper gift bag your date has given you earlier before reaching to your and Jimin's hand and pulling you both out of the restaurant at full speed with a wide grin, leaving behind indignant screams of 'YA!' . You couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling out of your chest as you three raced down to the stairs, taking the safer and the long way down. You'd regret the decision later once your age kicks in and the ache on your knees comes but the thrill thrumming under your skin keeps you occupied.

They'd probably ban you from ever entering the establishment but for now, you could care less, the place felt too pretentious for you anyways.

The laughter didn't stop even when you entered Taehyung's car, your joined delight bouncing off the small space and when it ceased, a satisfied silence followed. You and Jimin sag to your seats as the giggles die down, arms clutching your stomachs while Taehyung hunches over the wheel.

Even with how ridiculous the youngest decides on how to go about destroying a date, you couldn't deny the overflowing gratitude you hold for the guy for selling his dignity. Although as an idol with an interesting internet background, you doubt he still has one.

"Wow, that went better than I expected."

"I'm never taking you both to my dates again."

Jimin rolled his eyes at you, lips tugged into a grin. "You say that and take us anyways."

"I'm so glad Tae didn't pull another jealous CEO persona, I was so embarrassed that day!"

"Hey! I still got you out so it's not that bad!" Tae protests, turning to the both of you on the backseat. "At least I didn't act like an embarrassing ex that cried and begged on his knees by the outlook!"

Jimin's swat was quick and Tae hissed and gasped dramatically, cradling his arm as if it was broken by the slap.

"Now he's trying to hit me!"

"Nonetheless, we did so well ruining your dates this month, noona. I think we deserve some reward." Jimin's lips tugged up into a sly smile, eyes glimmering with mischief as he suggestively raised his eyebrows.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Before you returned home, you had Tae stop by the nearest grilling restaurant to treat the two of them to a couple of orders of meat. If Jimin looked like a kicked puppy upon realizing you've misinterpreted his words, you didn't say anything.

In your defense, he didn't specify what he wanted. Even if he did, you wouldn't have entertained his flirty jokes.

Not a minute longer since the three of you had seated yourselves at a secluded corner at the far back of the restaurant did Jimin's phone ring. You didn't have to look at the screen to know it was Jungkook, ever so eager to hear about how his hyungs managed to scare off your date this time.

He treats it like he was watching those public prank videos on the internet but instead of random targets, it was your dates.

When the video call loads in, you are met with the sight of Jungkook and Jin sharing half the screen while the stylists hands tend to their hairs, stuck deciding between leaving a strand astray from their elevated fringes or keeping it neat.

"Hyung, did you manage to do what you were telling me last time?"

Taehyung grinned. "You should've seen how they all reacted!"

As Taehyung recalled the event with exaggerated movements and expressions—with Jimin adding his extraordinarily unique perspective every now and then—the plates full of meat to grill and bowls of rice you ordered came. Immediately, they were recognized by the waitress who bowed her head at them before shyly asking for an autograph. If you felt her eyes burning a hole through your skull throughout the encounter, you pretend not to notice.

You've introduced yourself as their make-up artist early on in their career, sneaking into their hearts with behind-the-scenes photographs of their idols. A few photographs in exchange of their respect which the boys and the company allowed. Even then, you wouldn't be able to avoid exchanges like these.

Once the waitress was gone, the boys continued to delight the others with their tales. They laughed and expressed their disgust, picking apart your date piece by piece down to his last molecule but as they continued noting down their observations, you started to feel that they're making up random facts out of spite.

Like, what do you mean you saw the guy kept wiggling in his seat to subtly scratch his ass? How did you even see that, Jimin?

But due to them sneaking out to be your guard dogs, they were called to return soon by an unimpressed Namjoon who took over the phone call at some point, threatening them with Hoseok who just laughed in response. You didn't miss the opportunity to rub your week-long rest in their faces with a smile when Taehyung and Jimin tried pouting their way out of punishment.

They ended up being given the chance to at least finish their food before they're given the countdown when Jimin bribed them with takeout.

"Come with us to drink that memory away instead, noona! Hyung and I are better drinking buddies anyways."

You waved Hoseok off. "I don't think Sejin would appreciate me distracting you guys more than I already do."

"Look into my eyes and say that you don't want to drink the memory away!" Yoongi said matter-of-factly from somewhere in the background.

"We won't even drink much, promise!"

"Stop lying to yourself, Hoba. We know you'd tap out after the third glass."  Jin snickered.

"Hey, I've changed! I can do four now."

Before you could further shoot his idea down, your phone flashes open with a ring displaying your mother's name and your heart drops. As if sensing the change in the air, their heads perked up to look at you.

You knew she'll contact you eventually but seeing her name on the screen glare back at you, a shiver wracks down your spine.

"Who is it?" 

"It's my mom."

Jimin and Taehyung gasped, shushing the people on the other line like kids trying to hide a stray pet from their parents who came home as you answered the call.

"Hello my dearest daughter, tell me why the hell did Binwoo's mother just call me to tell me that you've been going around stealing people's youths?! I don't remember raising you to be such a person!"

Despite not having the call on speaker, her rage is loud enough for the other two to hear. Instead of sending pitying looks towards you like a proper friend should, they were grinning and trying to stop themselves from cackling. Your mother's screeching evolved into rapid fire scolding with barely any breathing in between, sending your companions into silent laughter.

You could only glare as Taehyung threw his head back as he guffawed noiselessly while Jimin had hunched over the table, his shaking shoulders being the only indicator that he too was laughing.

Kicking them both under the table, you gathered the courage to interrupt your mother so she could breathe.

"Mom, it was just a friend who wanted to save me from Binwoo."

"A friend?!? A friend my foot! He must be an-uh what do you call it these days—a friend with benefits! Here I thought you've been busy fussing over those Bangtan boys to fool around!"

At this, their ears perked up, attention falling to yours.

"God! If you just started dating them then I wouldn't have to stress myself over finding you a husband!"

Taehyung sobers up, playing with the meat on the grill as he whispers. "Oh I wish auntie but noona is too professi—ow!"

Your foot swiftly connects with his shin and Taehyung hunches over the table, hand disappearing down to cradle his foot.

"I assure you, Mom, if you've seen how he acted, you'd thank your daughter for dodging such a disgusting guy. He didn't even ask me permission to eat my fries!"

"Aishhhhh! If you were here I would've hung you upside down in a sack outside our house! God, I'm gonna have a cardiac arrest because of you!"

"The guy is really my friend, mom! It's the same guy who interrupted my dates before. Remember the crazy CEO?"

"I know I know! But with how picky you are, you'll end up alone! I know you're trying to wait for your soulmate but you're 26 now! You're way past the maximum marking age!"

Taehyung and Jimin fall silent as an awkward silence settles between your group, continuing to place their pork into the leaves and engulfing them almost meekly; almost because the way they ate the wrap is far from graceful.

You've known that for a year now, accepted your fate but the reminder made your heart ache. Imagine how it was for a hopeless romantic, who dreamt of fated meetings and whimsical red strings on your pinkie, to find out that they're untethered. Even then, a small part of you, a much younger version, keeps hoping for a chance that you're just a late bloomer.

Who wouldn't want true love for themselves?

Even a solitary man would crave affection.

"I-I know that. But you can't expect me to settle for less, you wouldn't want to see your dear daughter in a miserable marriage do you?"

There's a deep sigh from the other line and you could imagine your mom pinch the bridge of her nose before she spoke:

"I'm just worried, I hope you understand. I'm not getting any younger. Your older brother and sister already have their own family and seeing them happy while you're still on your own, it hurts this old woman's heart, you know?"

There's a quick succession of dull thuds from across the line and you assumed your mother was hitting her chest with her fist, ever the dramatic.

Jimin flips the newly added meat on the grill, taking the cooked strips to distribute between yours and Taehyung's bowl. It was such a small gesture yet it made your stomach flutter for a second. Always the caring and golden hearted boy you've met years ago that never hesitated to give you hugs and make you smile either with exaggerated movements or from touch alone.

If only there's more Jimin in the world, you would've been married a long time ago and you wouldn't have to deal with your mother's horrible matchmaking.

You sighed. "I know, I'm trying my best so don't worry too much."

"That's my youngest. Now, since you're trying, I have another—"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Mom, please."

"I swear this guy is better. He's a lawyer, 30 years old, and he's got a penthouse!"

There's a shrill ding! from your phone and you turned to look at your screen to find yourself staring back at a picture of the suitor your mother was just talking about. In a blink, Jimin and Taehyung have teleported  behind you with side dishes in hand as they peered over your shoulder to look at the photo.

The picture was roughly cropped and showed a man in a tailored black suit leaning against what looks like his mother from how similar the shape of their eyes and lips are. He had his coat hanging from his arm, giving you a full view of how his chest and shoulders filled out his white button up. With a narrow and refined jawline, topped off with good hair waxed into a small quiff and a pair of sunken dimples on each side of his bowstring lips, as an idol's makeup artist, you wondered how it is possible for him to be single.

But what distracted you more was how your mother has sent you someone visually appealing instead of the challenged men she had recommended to you. It's making the ends of the hair on your arm stand up.

It's new and it's creeping you out.

You make a mental note to ask your father about her strange behavior.

"His name is Yoo Guwon, isn't he good looking? His mother and I met at the salon by the market in front of your aunt Jia. I saw him once and he looks exactly like he does in that picture!"

"He looks good."

A hiss following a slap muted by thick clothing erupted from behind you, looking over your shoulder, you see Taehyung staring at Jimin with a shocked and betrayed expression.

"What are you doing?! You're supposed to be against this!"

"Well now that you've mentioned it," Jimin hums, crossing his arms as he leaned closer over your shoulders. "He does look like a manipulator. He has the eye and facial structure for it."

You turned to him with a puzzled expression. "What do you even mean—"

"No no no wait, I can see what you mean." Taehyung butts in, narrowing his eyes as he also inched closer to the screen on the other side of your face before reaching over to expand on the man's face.

You furrowed your eyebrows, still not seeing how a skull's formation could mean manipulator in their eyes. But before you could ask how they came to the conclusion, your mother gasped.

"Is that one of your boys? Taehyung and Jimin?"  

"Yeah, I took them out for some meat since they saved me earlier."

"Oh? Put me on speaker, I want to talk to them!" You obeyed her and hummed a confirmation before holding your phone towards them. "I hope my daughter hasn't disrupted your busy schedules to play jealous exes for her."

Jimin laughs. "It's nothing too much, auntie~ She took great care of us back then, it's just us repaying the debt! Besides, I like watching her fail her dates!"

"Oh aren't you quite mischievous?" Her tone was teasing and delighted as she giggled. "Don't enjoy it too much, okay? My daughter needs to get married soon!"

"Don't worry too much, auntie! I also want our noona to find a good husband!"

"What a sweet boy! Too bad company rules can't let you date, I would've loved you as my son-in-law."

A smile stretched across Jimin's face as he shyly laughed, hiding his delight behind a hand. "You can't say that and expect me to not try and court your daughter, auntie!"

"What about me, auntie? I sold my dignity just to push away her creepy suitors when hyung only sat back to record. I did a lot!" Taehyung jumps in with a pout, feeling left out of the conversation.

"Any of you boys are welcome in my family as long as my daughter is married and treated well! Ok, I'll stop now since I have some friends to meet up with. Visit me soon, my lovely daughter!"

After saying your goodbyes and your i-love-you's, the call ends. Immediately, your phone was fished out from your hands by Taehyung as the two boys returned to their seats, zooming in on Guwon's face and speaking in hushed whispers among themselves. At least until Jin and Jungkook's insistence to be included in the discussion came booming.

"Ya Taehyung! Aren't we friends for so long? Why are you not showing us the picture like a normal friend would do? Forward it to the GC!"

Even after forwarding the picture to the GC, they're still far from pleased after being ignored for so long. Jungkook and Jin didn't spare any words from expressing their wrath, especially the elder. A problem easily buried for everyone to forget with an offer of bringing food when they come home. Your mother expressing her openness to the idea of having any of your bosses as your husband seems to breeze past their heads. You do have an inkling they'll discuss amongst themselves later on.

Soon, Jimin and Taehyung are dropping you at your apartment building, parting ways with hugs before they leave.

Since you've finally claimed some of the absent days you've gathered throughout the years for a nice week off before the eventual tour, you decided to take full advantage of it by treating yourself with a nice night in, stuffing yourself with ice cream and an unhealthy amount of pizzas. Doors locked and blinds shut.

Just you and your TV.

And the generic drama that's playing before you.

It's about a poor girl who got rescued by a handsome rich man who has an obsessed admirer and a family who opposes their relationship despite the soulmate mark they both wore due to their different levels in society.

The trope has been overused but you indulge in it anyways.

But as the night gets deeper and the plot thickens to its climax, you find yourself slowly liking it. Watching the young couple be domestic around their apartment, your heart starts to yearn. Their kisses looked fantastical and sweet, as if the taste of each other could energize them for the whole month. 

You watched as brief passing touches scream louder than words, eyed the way their arms wrapped around waists with jealousy and wondered when you'd be able to experience such a thing too.

Emotional torture is what you're doing but you couldn't find it in yourself to stop watching it.

You remembered how realization felt like plunging into the darkest depths in the ocean, cold and harsh, the pain in your chest when your 21st passed by without any notable changes in your life. 

You recalled how you'd wake up and excitedly look over your skin for a hint everyday with no fail, hoping for a telltale sign that you weren't assigned to a fate of love bare of the genuine and rawness of a soulbond. The devastation gnawing at your dreams when your 21st ends uneventfully and the 22nd comes with the same nothingness still fresh in your mind.

There wasn't a cure for being untethered but you learned soon how to accept your fate. Having your friends comfort you through those years helped. From the maknaes' grounding tight hugs to Yoongi's silent support in the form of distractions and Seokjin's insistence on how unimportant soulmates are, healing came easier with them by your side.

Being untethered or alone isn't a disease cured by human medicine but you think your friends' support came close.

Your phone then vibrates, taking you out of the train of thought you got yourself into, screen lighting up to a message from an unknown user.

[21:39] Unknown: Hey, it's me Yoo Guwon. Your mother gave me your number and said to contact you first because you might be busy with work.

None of the suitors your mother has brought forth has ever worked out. At this point, you should ask her to stop and try to find a good man yourself.

But none of them ever made the effort to reach out first.

But he's a lawyer and you know damn well what they're good at .

He looks cute and tall though, got a good background as well.

Everyone before him also had that.

With a heavy exhale, you picked your phone up and opened his message.

[21:40] You: Hello, I'm actually on a week-long break so I'm just rotting on my couch instead haha

"That's too awkward." You muttered to yourself, subconsciously biting your lips as you rephrased the message a couple more times, frantically deleting and adding words onto your ever growing introduction message.

But then it's too wordy, it makes you sound desperate so you deleted it all again, starting once more from the beginning.

You didn't even get to send it when Guwon sent another message.

[21:48] Yoo Guwon: I'm free tomorrow, I hope you are too. What do you usually like to do?

He's giving me options? You stared at the screen with furrowed eyebrows before narrowing at it suspiciously.

What's up with this guy? Why isn't he taking the lead?

[21:50] You: I'm more often working and staying at home than visiting places so I don't know where ;-;. I'll go wherever you want to go. [21:51] Yoo Guwon: It's fine, just send me your address and I'll pick you up tomorrow at 9am, dress formal casual.

Throwing your phone to the side, you reached for the canned beer from your table and took a long sip before titling your head back to stare at the ceiling. There's a careful rise in your heartbeat, a traitorous action of your body. It was hopeful and you hated how you felt like that, you sighed again for the nth time that day but for a different reason.

Your mind takes you back to the mischievous duo, wondering if you should take one of them for this date but find yourself shutting the idea down as quick as it came. The guy looks decent enough for a solo adventure, going alone shouldn't hurt.

Maybe this time will be different.

[thegalaxysedge22]

After Ever (Chapter 1)

pair: sylus x MC (named, sorry)

tags: grief, descriptions and depictions of death, swearing, also spoilers for the game lol

word count: 2.5k

summary (full fic): after her grandmother's tragic death, kore promises to avenger her and find out the truth of the aether core inside of her heart. along the way she learns of the mysterious onychinus and their feared leader sylus, a man she hates with every fiber of her being. but something isn't adding up with it all, together kore and sylus uncover secrets of the past and their views of each other are challenged

song rec: marjorie by taylor swift (just to give you an idea of what you're gonna get)

a/n: idk about the title also bc this is a long form thing and only chapter 1 we don't meet sylus yet. also just so we're all clear this is going to be cannon adjacent, with some things being pulled directly from the game i am still going through the chapters but a hyperfixation's gotta hyperfixate.

Caleb and Grandma are gone. They’re dead.

I’ll never get to hear Grandma’s laugh or have Caleb’s food ever again - they’re just gone.

Kore still can’t believe it. Sitting at her desk at the Hunter’s Association unsure how to process it all. The official report of their deaths stared back at her from the screen. A metaflux explosion, one of the many to happen recently. Kore couldn’t take how the report portrayed both her Grandma and Caleb as another statistic, an inevitable tragedy caused by energy fluctuations. Whether it was delusion or a hunch, she could tell something wasn’t right about it, she had no way to prove it but in her heart- Kore just knew that this couldn’t be the whole story. 

The news playing segment playing in the background was rattling on about the series of metaflux explosions and the anchor's voice grating on her last nerves. Anger was brewing inside of her, Kore’s heart was breaking all over again, how could they use Caleb and her Grandmother’s deaths in this way. They didn’t even talk about the way Grandma could light up a room or the crinkles around her eyes when she laughed, or how Caleb loved cooking and would cook for others at every chance he got.

She couldn’t keep listening to this, Kore starts to reach for the remote when a hand swoops down and shuts off the TV. Tara’s concerned face looks back at her.

“What are you doing here Kore,” her work best friend asks, “I thought you were out on a mission again, or maybe you went home.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna clock out soon, I just finished reading these reports. I have to turn them in first,” Kore says and returns her focus onto her computer.

“You’re working so hard. Handling all these missions and investigating the Metaflux incidents.”

“...I refuse to believe what happened to me was just an accident,” Kore says confidently. Although she doesn’t have any definitive proof as of right now, she is confident that something about it all doesn’t quite add up.

Tara vocalizes her concern over her friend’s wellbeing, offering to take her out for food, because it was clear she hasn’t been eating. But before a response could come for Kore, their captain, Jenna, walks in.

“Captain,” Tara says, her schoolgirl crush on the captain would normally make Kore smile, but she just doesn’t have that in her right now. “I’ll send you the reports soon!” Tara finishes enthusiastically.

“Thank you,” Jenna says before looking between the two of them, “I just got one about a protocore analysis. Who sent it?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry about that,” Kore tries to sound normal but her words come out in a monotonous voice. “That was me,” she says, trying to stand up, but nearly topples over when her blood pressure drops and her vision gets blurry. Tara is trying to convince her that she needs to go home and rest when Kore’s phone starts ringing, saving her from the rest of her friend’s lecture.

It had turned out that the call was a reminder about her doctor’s appointment with Zayne, and that is how she had ended up at the Akso Hospital waiting for an emergency surgery to finish so she could talk to him. Is he always this busy? I mean he has always been a bit of an overachiever I suppose, Kore thought to herself as she stared off into the waiting room.

She was so lost in her thought that she didn’t even notice Zayne had approached her, not until he waved his hand in front of her face and snapped her out of her trance.

“Sorry about that,” Kore said sheepishly, “I guess I sort of dazed off while waiting for you.”

“Well I’m here now. Should we go over your results,” Zayne said, making a gesture towards his office. Kore nodded and walked in sitting down at his desk, and he was not far behind.

Zayne, ever the professional, proceeded to go over the report with her. He said basically the same things she had heard throughout her entire life, that the Protocore fragment in her heart is dangerous and she needs to be mindful of it. He spared her the scolding about her intense life choices as a Hunter, having learned long ago that will not deter Kore. In his rambling, Zayne had managed to say something that really captured her attention.

“You are unlike any patient with your type of Protocore Syndrome that I have ever seen, all the evidence says that you should not be as healthy as you are, in fact you likely shouldn’t even be alive. It’s a miracle you are quite frankly, and that you are as in good of shape as you are. A true scientific anomaly,” Zayne said, seemingly more engaged in the conversation than he was going over the reports.

“Well Grandma always told me I was special,” Kore said with a lighthearted chuckle. 

Zayne looked at her, eyes softened and full of concern, “I had been meaning to check in on you, I’ve just been so busy at the hospital recently. So, how are you, Kore?”

“I’m doing about as well as you can expect I suppose,” she responded trying to put a smile on her face, “But it has been really hard.” Kore’s gaze turned down to her hands which were fiddling in her lap.

“I can imagine, and I hope you know that I am here for you, Kore,” Zayne said, catching her gaze, eyes full of empathy. “Now I am reminded that you Grandma gave me something she had wanted to give to you,” he said before pulling out a locked box.

“Do you know what it is?” she questioned, taking the box in her hands and looking it over.

“I do not. Your Grandma gave me explicit instructions to hold onto it and give it to you should anything happen to her,” he said, folding his hands on his desk. Before Kore could form a response a Protofeild appeared in Zanye’s office and a wanderer emerged.

“The hospital’s flux stabilizer must be down, I gotta alert the association. Stay back Zayne.” Kore says, attempting to alert the Hunter’s Association of the threat

“You are in no position to be fighting like this, Kore,” Zayne said while she fidgeted with her watch.  Rolling up his sleeves, Zayne continued, “Your heart is exceptionally vulnerable and it would be neglectful of me as your doctor to let you partake in this alone. We will defeat this Wanderer together.”

Luckily, the fight went fast, Zayne was really effective with his Evol fighting the Wanderers, it almost made Kore question why he even bothered to go into the medical field in the first place.

“Here, let me walk you out, Kore,” Zayne said once the fight was finished.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, I know where the door is,” Kore said awkwardly, hoping not to take time out of the doctor’s schedule.

“Please, I insist. I am due for a break anyways,” he said, opening the door wide hand gesturing for her to go first. At that point Kore knew nothing was going to change his mind, so he shrugged and walked out of the office.

“Yvonne, did anything happen to the hospital’s flux stabilizer just now?” Zayne asked his receptionist on their way out.

“No,” Yvonne responded confused with a furrowed brow, “Why do you ask, did something happen?”

“Oh no, nothing happened, I thought I heard the alarm go off,” Zayne responded, the lie rolling fluidly off his tongue, which confused Kore as he had always been an honest man. “Anyways, I am off to lunch, do you need anything while I am gone?”

“Oh, no thanks, I just ate,” Yvonne responded. 

Zanye nodded towards her before focusing his attention back on Kore while motioning ahead he asked her, “Shall we go?”

Kore gave him a weak nod, a questioning look on her face as the two fell in step. “What was that about? Shouldn’t we alert someone about what just happened?”

“It seems like it was an anomaly, and there is no need to cause a panic in the hospital over a one off thing,” Zayne said, in his usual scholarly tone, “What is important now, is where would you like to go to eat?”

At night, when Kore returned to her apartment, her mind was in a fog. Grief had been consuming her since the accident, its tendrils had dug deep inside her mind, trapping her there. Everything had been so confusing since the accident that her brain hurt.

Dropping her bag off at the door she took off her shoes before plopping herself on the couch. That’s where she saw it. On the coffee table lay Caleb’s necklace. She reached out and grasped it, clutching it tightly to her chest as if it was the only thing tying her to him, and to some extent it was.

The ghosts of memories that were haunting her had returned yet again. She started playing back the time when she had gifted it to Caleb. He had been leaving for school to become a pilot and had promised that he would keep it on him at all times, but the only reason why she had the necklace left in the first place was because he had dropped it. Tears started spilling from her eyes at a steady pace.

It was the only thing she had left of him, no, it was the only thing she had left of them. Of course their bodies weren’t recoverable, the fire had burned so bright that they were no longer distinguishable from the rubble in the mountain of ash that once had been her home. One of the first responders even marveled at the rarity of it all, as a fire has to burn almost unnaturally hot for even bones to turn to cinder. They also remarked on how unevenly the fire had burned, with some parts of her Grandmother’s house having been completely turned to ash and others were still recognizable even in their charred state.

She was inconsolable now, sobs wracked through her small body like an earthquake trembles the earth. She clutched the pendant so tight her knuckles turned white. For how long she stayed in that state, she would never know.

Eventually, something inside of her snapped. Something about the whole thing was wrong, there had to be something that she was missing. Pulling out her laptop she started to search for all that she could find on the recent metaflux explosions. The explosion that killed her family had been the 32nd recent metaflux, up until Grandma and Caleb, there had been no casualties, not even minor injuries. The other explosions were also less catastrophic to the buildings, of course they were badly damaged but they weren’t destroyed like her grandmother’s house was. 

That shouldn’t be right, Kore thought to herself, what was so different about this one, why isn’t it like the other metaflux explosions? With that she started diving into all she could find relating to how metaflux worked. Thankfully, Ever, a multinational group that has been studying metaflux for years (along with a myriad of other things), was an incredible resource as to how metaflux functioned.

The very first signs of daylight started to emerge from the windows of her apartment as she was scouring a scholarly research paper commissioned by Ever. She was struggling to understand exactly what it was saying and growing increasingly more frustrated at the complex scientific jargon.

At her wit’s end she scrolled down to the end of the paper hoping to find something more clear there, luckily she found something even better. Down at the end of the page was the head researcher’s contact information, a Dr. J. Higgins. A surge of relief rushed through her and she quickly started to compose an email to him. Before she could type anything out the computer screen went black. A primal sound of rage erupted through Kore;s throat. 

This can’t be happening, she screamed in her mind. Where the absolute FUCK is my charger, she thought to herself while she practically tore her place apart like a madman. She turned back to the couch about to reside herself to defeat in a wave of frustration, when she spotted the darkened silhouette of her backpack. How could I miss that, I had my laptop with me at work today, idiot, she scolded herself.

She practically stormed to her bag and when she opened it she saw the box that Zanye had given her earlier, the one from her Grandma. It was like time slowed down, Kore pulled it out of the bag like it was the most delicate thing in the world, completely forgetting the charger.

Her footsteps padded over to her small dining table and she sat down. Carefully she placed the box on the table in front of her wondering what could possibly be inside it. Why on earth would Grandma give it to Zayne of all people, no offense Zayne, she thought to herself as her fingers traced the outline of the box. Fear, anxiety, anticipation, and more coursed through Kore as she sat staring at the box unsure what to do about it.

Finally, curiosity got the better of her and she opened the box. Inside were multiple files of papers, one even being marked as classified. She took a beat to look at the sheer amount of documents then opened the first file and started reading.

The more she read the more she slipped into a state of denial. She was the result of an experiment and an aether core had been placed in her heart. What the fuck is an aether core, she thought to herself, she pulled out her phone to look it up. Nothing came up, other than whispers of it being an Ever project on forums that were now ancient, which she easily disregarded. But the worst thing they said was that her grandma had been involved in it somehow, her name being scattered throughout the papers. Not wanting to believe what the documents had said, Kore threw the papers back into the case and slammed the lid. 

By now the sun is up and people are starting to go about their day. Kore did the same and followed her typical morning routine, but she brewed an extra large pot of coffee to compensate for her all-nighter. Somehow she remained in a trance-like state but her thoughts were racing. 

After a large cup of coffee with breakfast, Kore went to change into a new uniform, not wanting people to get the wrong idea if she showed up in a zombie-like state in yesterday’s clothes.

Before she left, she poured herself a thermos with the rest of the coffee to bring to work. She went to the coffee table and grabbed her laptop before reluctantly leaving the security of her apartment.

Next >

[charles-leclerc-official]

Ok I’m still on the Ferrari section but already reading your analysis is bringing me back down to earth 😅 I should learn my lesson by now—luci analyses will always have an answer and I shouldn’t be panicking like an idiot every weekend 😅😅🫠 —🍊

You are so sweet <3 and also you are always coming here to learn, that isn't idiot behavior.

Thank you, everyone is so nice and supportive listening to me yap about statistics and my opinions on a race and I love talking about it with you all <3

[best-fnaf-song-competition]

im sorry i dont have time to listen to all the songs like ever cuz work and my next day off is sunday!! im gonna vote then i promise ;-;

Hey no worries! I know life gets in the way of things sometimes and my desire for accurate statistical analysis should never make you feel bad for things you can't control!!!!!! I just love music so fuckign much

[siberat]

Rinse and Repeat

‘It’s about time you came in for your check-up.”

“Huh?” Rat/chet scrunched his face. “What the slag you talkin’ about, Dri/ft?”

“Take a seat.”

The medic glared at his lover’s back. His meeting with the rest of the medical staff ran late due to someone, who will remain nameless, providing a banquet of food. Anyone who knows about medical teams knows their love of breaks and snacks. And what better way to make a boring meeting (consisting of data and statistical analysis) to have such tasty treats littered among the table?

And before anyone asks, Ratc/het shared with his colleagues. Yes, he did chonk out over the past several months, but that doesn’t mean he lacked manners. Plus, there was plenty to go around. The CMO ate his fair share, returning to his habsuit with a full belly that resembled a fully inflated beach ball.

Naturally, feeling extra heavy after feasting on himself with sweets, getting off his pedes was welcomed. So Rat/chet obeyed and took a load off, plopping himself down with a loud ‘oof.’ The chair minorly creaked and sagged under his weight but held firm. He’d have to thank his lover for reinforcing the chair once whatever shenanigans Dri/ft was up to was finished.

“Any complaints since the last time I saw you?”

“Yeah.” Rat/chet spread his legs and rested back in his chair, taking any access pressure from his swollen midsection. “Too much talking. Not enough resting.” He closed his optics, desiring a quick nap.

Dri/ft loudly dropped his partner’s medical bag, the thud startling the CMO in his seat. “I agree. There is a lot of talking going on here. Let’s have a look-see, shall we?”

Rat/chet opened his mouth to either question or object, but seeing his stethoscope being brought out stopped him. He watched his Con/junx place the headset on his helm, then lift the bell to tap with a digit. “Careful-“

Dri/ft flinched, instantly regretting tapping the device.

“I tried to warn ya.” Playful laughter ensued, but Dri/ft kept a straight face as he gently continued with the examination.

The stethoscope's cold bell pressed to the rumbling belly's plating. Every few seconds, the device traveled to another location. Each belly grumble was chased and listened to, followed by a ‘Hmmmm’ from the TIC.

Ratc/het watched, bewildered.

A belly-shaker of a growl erupted from the round paunch, enough to make Ratc/het wince a little and rub a servo over the afflicted area- or at least try to. Dr/ift and his stethoscope managed to get to the belly quake first.

“Oh, you don’t say….” Dri/ft cooed, listening as if the belly was preaching his favorite spiritual podcast. “I see…”

“What?” Ratc/het barked as he swatted the stethoscope away. “Just what are you doing? Having conversations with my belly?”

“Yes,” Dr/ift stated matter of factly. “I said it was time for his check-up.”

Once again, Ratc/het opened his mouth in retort, but no words came out. Just what exactly would he say? How would one respond to the apparent need to have one’s belly checked up? Primus, he hoped the measuring tape and vernier calipers didn’t appear today…

“I’ll humor ya,” Rat/chet said with a tired but playful smile. “Just what is my belly telling you?”

“ I don’t know if you are ready to hear this, love.”

“What?” The CMO chortled but stopped upon seeing the deadpan look on his lover’s face. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.” The stethoscope was removed and returned to the bag. “Good thing you are already seated….”

“What the slag….” The medic turned to watch his lover go to the sink, turn it on and fill something up. He wasn’t sure what his lover was up to; he couldn’t see!

“I’m glad you stopped in today. Things could have gotten worse if there was any delay.”

“What coulda gotten worse?” Ratc/het craned his neck for a view but said mech’s back was still facing him. All he could do was listen to the commotion: solvent spilling into something, the squelching of something being squeezed out, and rummaging around in cabinets.

“I am afraid to say, Rat/ch, that you need a severe medical procedure to be done. And right away.”

“What the frag you talking about-“

Dri/ft turned around, holding a basin in his servos. He approached the seated mech and set the supplies on the end table. Inside the basin were soapy solvent and a sponge. Draped over the swords/mech’s arm was a drying cloth. Adorned on his lover’s face was a devious smile.

“I’m afraid your belly requires a sponge bath. STAT.”

If looks could kill, Drift would be dead. Well, if Ratc/het was serious, that is.

“A sponge bath?” Deadpan optics glowered as the sponge was dunked and splashed around, then squeezed out. “Are you serious?”

“Quite.” Dri/ft pushed the doctor’s legs together to make a seat for himself while enjoying seeing that huge belly resting on chubby thighs. “Washing this belly of yours is of the utmost importance.” The wet sponge was gently circled over the swell of the belly, taking its time to caress and pamper. After every few strokes, the sponge was dunked back into the solvent to be rung out, then returned.

Naturally, Dri/ft cooed and baby talked as this ‘extensive medical procedure’ was performed. He whispered sweet little nothings about how good said belly was, how proud he was of the growth observed, and just how ample and soft the midsection became.

Ratc/het rolled his optics but allowed his lover the joy of playing doctor to his belly. Hell, if his lover enjoyed it, why deny him that? After all, it would be polite to return the favor: Dri/ft slaved away at the oven cooking the most delicious treats for him. And he truly outdid himself today.

Yes, Dr/ift provided the smorgasbord of treats for him and his medical staff’s meeting today.

So, Rat/chet sat back and let his belly get washed. It felt relaxing to have warm solvent rub over his swollen and overstuffed belly: it helped calm the aches and whiny groans. Servos join the mix, gently rubbing the tummy before the drying cloth caught any drips that trickled down. His belly sure was receiving the royal treatment!

Every area of the large stomach was washed. Every crease was lifted and wiped clean. The heavy paunch was raised to scrub the nook between the belly and hips. This continued, Rat/chet drowsily relaxing as his lover lifted flab, then shoved the sponge between his chubby side rolls.

“Uh-oh!” Dri/ft's voice sharply called out with concern, causing the CMO to startle awake.

“What?”

“We have a problem….” The swordsmech held up two empty servos.

“What? This isn’t a good thing to hear during any medical procedure….”

Dri/ft bit his lower lip, attempting to keep himself from smiling and/or laughing. “It appears I have lost the sponge….”

“…” Rat/chet glared. “Where?” Although, Ratc/het already had an idea of just where the said sponge was hiding.

“Between your flab rolls!”

“That’s it.” Rat/chet grinned. “I’m gonna sue for medical malpractice!”

Laughter erupted from the pair as the sponge was retrieved, dunked back into the solvent, and squeezed.

Rinse and repeat

a/n: it’s been a while. And I apologize for that. Art may be slow because I have a few projects going on that’s not chub related, and my inspiration for writing more than itty bitty prompts is gone. But enjoy this little short story.

Read on Aox3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36422509/chapters/117619678

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2023-05-15

First week of work in Prague. I think I have an apartment lined up. Starting to get more normal.

Listening: Lyrical music keeps me more aware at work, so Tom Lehrer. Horrible air pollution at ground level near major streets makes me think of "Pollution". I appreciate that in not a single song where he does an accent does Lehrer try and do a good accent.

Reading: Getting back into Children of Time. Still pretty busy in the evenings so, you know. Not too much progress.

Watching: attended one of the numerous touristy live classical concerts in one of the numerous touristy churches in Prague. In this case a small orchestra really playing the hits in St. Salvator. You know they're pandering when they only do Spring and Summer from Vivaldi. Really excited that I got to hear Toccata and Fugue on an actual church organ, love those things.

Playing: Haha no. I'm currently on my light laptop so when I do eventually get back to games it's going to be some visual novel stuff.

Making: Also nothing, all my tools are still stowed.

Tools and Equipment: Pitch for pyshark, an extremely simple library wrapped around tshark that makes it very easy to pull pcaps into python for analysis. Dumb as rocks but you get full bpf and wireshark filters, because it is just tshark with smart XML parsing. I've been doing some packet timing stuff at work and it's nicer than working with the built in statistics tools in wireshark.

[bsdndprplplld]

7 III 2023

it's the second week of the semester and I must say that it's easier than I predicted

statistical data analysis is boring but easy, algebra 2 is easy but probably interesting, so is differential geometry

algebraic topology was funny because ⅓ of the group completed the algebraic methods course, so at first we told the professor to skip half of the lecture (we all know the required part of category theory) and then with every new piece of information he would say "ok maybe this will be the first thing today that you don't know", to which we would reply "naaah we've seen this" lmao. but the course overall will be fun and maybe it's even better that the level of difficulty won't be as high as I though, that would leave more time for my other stuff

the tutorial part of number theory was scary, because the professor wanted us to work in pairs. my autistic ass hates working in groups and the noise in the room was unbearable (everyone was talking about the exercises we were given to solve), so I was on the verge of a meltdown after 30 minutes of this despite ANC headphones. next time I will work by myself from the start. maybe without the requirement of communication it won't be as bad. the course itself will be easy, when it comes to the material. I know nothing about number theory, so the novelty will make it more enjoyable. a few people said that they would prefer the tutorial in the standard form, maybe I won't have to worry about surviving it if there are enough people who want to change it

my birthday is tomorrow and as a gift my parents gave me enough money to buy an ipad, I was saving for it since november. for a few days now I've been testing different apps for note taking, pdf readers and other tools useful for studying. I must say, this is a game changer, I absolutely love it

taking notes itself is less comfortable than on an e-ink tablet, which gives very paperlike experience, but it's better than traditional ones. the upside is that I can use different colors and the whole process is less rigid than on an e-ink

two apps that seem the best for now are MarginNote 3 and GoodNotes

the first one is good for studying something from multiple sources. the app allows to open many pdfs, take pieces from them and then arrange them in a mindmap. it's possible to add handwritten notes, typed notes, photos and probably more that I don't know yet. all of this seems to be particularly useful when studying for exams or in other situations when it's necessary to review a huge chunk of material

the second app is for regular handwritten notes. it doesn't have any special advantages other than I just like the interface lol what I like about taking notes on ipad is that I can take photos and insert them directly into the notebook, which I can't do on the e-ink. it's great for lectures and classes because I don't usually write everything down (otherwise I can't listen, too busy with writing) and even if I do, I don't trust myself with it so I take photos anyway. being able to merge the photos with notes reduces chaos

oh god this is going to be a long post! other news from life is that yesterday I had a meeting with my thesis advisor and we finally picked a topic. some time ago he sent me a paper to try and said, very mysteriously, to let him know if it's not too hard before he reveals more details about his idea. the paper is about symmetric bilinear forms on finite abelian groups, pure algebra, and I was supposed to write about algebraic topology, so I tried to search where this topics comes up, but didn't find anything. it turns out that it's used to define some knot invariant, which I would use to write about the classification of singularities of algebraic curves. in the meantime my advisor had another idea, which is an open problem in knot theory. we decided to try the second one, because there is less theory to learn before I could start writing the paper

to summarize what I'm about to do: there is a knot invariant called Jones polynomial, which then inspires a construction of a certain R-module on tangles and the question asks whether that module is free, if so, what is its rank. now I'm reading the book he gave me to learn the basics and I can't wait till I start working on the problem

[emisirrelevant]

WATT WEEK DAY 3!

HAPPY WE ARE THE TIGERS/WATT WEEK DAY 3!!

So today’s prompt is: And the freshman’s in prison! Therefore I present to you:

A song commentary/analysis of Mattie’s Lament!

Hold on to your landlines y’all.

•“Dear mom and dad” so wait did no one visit her, not even her parents? This is a wonderful start

•Also this line giving me “DEAREST DARLINGEST MOMSIE AND POPSICAL” I’m sorry I had to say it

•“Well I’m not shivved so that’s something” ahahaha I know it’s not funny but I do laugh when I hear this part I’M SORRY MATTIE

•“Statistically so many people die each day”

•It IS good she’s not another dead person

•But also oof not me now hearing this line differently and thinking holy shit this IS sad imagine being reduced to a statistic 

•“It’s the little things” and the ukulele in the background 

•LIKE WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS

•I mean I love it but oh god the ukulele being like the main instrumental- it’s giving “everything’s fine, we’re fine- NO WE AREN’T but we’re gonna pretend it is” 

•“I have friends here” WHEN YOU HAVE BETTER FRIENDS IN PRISON THAN ON AN ACTUAL CHEERLEADING TEAM 

•Okay but having listened to this song with fresh ears I think this song is sadder than I really thought oof 

•How Riley managed to send a freshman to prison before she herself ended up there, I just- 

•“But some girl named Tasha just made me her wife” MATTASHA!!! 

•PRISON WIVES!!

•If they ever did a live performance again or did an actual run of the musical could they make a scene where we just see Tasha briefly?? For research purposes?

•“Prison has hardened me” honestly you go Mattie good for you girlie

•“I don’t think that I can do this anymore” AND THEN HOW SHE SINGS IN THE FINALE “I’m not sure that I’m okay but I get stronger every day” and then how everyone joins in with her like yes they’re finally supporting her “I know I’ll find the good things” parallel to “it’s the little things” THIS MUSICAL!! can you tell I love it???

•“I’m sorry I got drunk, I’m sorry about peer pressure, peer pressure SUCKS” IT REALLY DO (imagine THIS being your hazing story- BOOO HAZING)

•“Cause I don’t think I killed those girls, I really don’t” ugh like I am going to defend Mattie here. I was thinking about it and yeah sure she got drunk and she did that but also Farrah does but also I love them both and I really don’t want to blame them because I believe it wasn’t Mattie’s fault she was framed and I know logically and canonically it’s Riley behind it all but I also sometimes support woman’s wrongs so-

•“SHUT THE FUCK UP” LOL but really has Mattie done this thing before? Imagine she sings rants out loud and everyone except Tasha are like this random inmate just tired of hearing mattie sing

•Again, I’m dead with the ukulele being the main instrument- like it’s brilliant, if you think more in depth about it, it’s like a calmer sounding instrument but the whole situation is anything BUT

•Like, the masking in this song is genius

•“You build a bridge and you move on” I mean I’d personally hold a big grudge against whoever did this to me if I was sent to prison by the rest of my team but-

•“And hope that 4 years doesn’t feel very long” AND THIS IS WHERE I GIVE MY GIRL MATTIE A VERY BIG HUG BECAUSE YES GIRL YOU MADE IT YOU SURVIVED PRISON AND BEING ACTUALLY KILLED LIKE CHESS AND FARRAH AND YOU’RE ON A TEAM WHO WILL ACTUALLY HAVE YOUR BACK!

Mattie my beloved! 

[captawesomesauce]

Thoughts at 2pm...

This is really a thoughts on cartography/GIS post...

W and I have been talking about GIS a lot lately. Mostly she’s been talking, and I’ve been listening lolol. Her head is full of thoughts, of ideas, of critiques, of insight and questions, and I freaking love it. 

One thing that has been a big topic has been “what makes a good map?” We’ve gone back and forth about this, and it seems a simple question but for cartographers like her and I, it’s like opening a can of worms!

We see so many maps that are just ugly as fuck, deficient in information, or just make no sense. They’re bad at all levels of communication, from bad content to bad display.

And ultimately that is what we have decided makes a good map... does it communicate something?

GIS makes it so easy to just “put stickers on a basemap.” You no longer have to draw, you no longer need to have a steady hand and artistic skills to draw the coastlines, the ridges, the mountain ranges, shade the deserts, and add the roads and pathways. Nope, you just load a basemap, throw on some pre-created layers, and add some points and voila... map. 

With a good understanding of cartographic principles and graphic design, you can make such a gorgeous map... but is it really a good map?

Did you do any analysis? Did you do any thinking? Did you put in any effort besides picking a font for the title, and the color scheme? Does it communicate anything? 

With this lens, we’ve been looking more and more at other peoples maps, and more importantly at our own. Did we have to manipulate the data at all to analyze something either statistically, or does the presentation educate and explain something beyond just WHERE something is. Are we communicating something or are we just making static art?

Simply saying something is HERE is fine... saying it with a lot of pretty colors and shading is fine... but why should anyone care beyond “ooh... pretty!”

She’s really risen up to the challenge, especially with Novembers 30 day map challenge. She’s not just doing pretty shading and stickers on basemap projects, but starting with a question and trying to answer it spatially and doing it in a way that is also really beautiful to look at. 

She has done such a great job too! Her topics, ideas, and presentations are amazing and she has grown so much since she got her diploma!

[club577]

normalcore

more comprehensive analysis + statistics breakdown under the cut (warning: long)

of course this number is meaningless since i feel like spotify keeps redefining their genre categories every year

welsh rock at #3 lets goooo (the "cymraeg" genre was only #4 for me last year, and all the welsh-language music i listen to is welsh rock and vice versa)

thank god "metropopolis" isnt on there this year that was embarrassing . i miss punk being on the list tho

~946 hours, or ~3.11 hours per day (assuming collection period was jan 1 to oct 31)

~16219 songs assuming average song length of 3.5 minutes, ~53 songs a day

yeah.

(i think april was def the peak of my club 57 hyperfixation)

56,768 minutes listened = ~39 minutes per song, or ~11 plays per song

last.fm stats as of nov 30:

club 57: 352 plays run into trouble: 219 y bardd o montreal: 128 bike dream: 135 (only song on the list that i never put on loop -- its just Like That <3) boy division: 117 (paradis disparu by sŵnami was actually tied with boy division i believe -- last.fm says ive played it 119 times and i know for sure 2 of those times were in the last month)

bike dream is still in my november playlist whereas y bardd o montreal isnt, which explains the extra few plays that it's gathered since spotify stopped collecting data

oh boy what will it be....

(56,768 minutes = ~123 minutes per artist, or ~35 songs per artist; 1,454 songs = ~3 unique songs per artist)

what a surprise

(my top artist every year since i got spotify in 2018 -- it feels like my number of minutes listened drops every year but i just looked back on my old wrappeds and it's actually been rising (more than double the 2020 number) even though they make up a smaller percentage of my overall music)

apparently i was right on the cusp of making the top 0.005% like i did last year -- one of my friends listened to them for around 6k minutes and made 0.005%

(~10.2% of my overall time, ~5.8 songs a day (using 3.25 as average song length since their newer songs have been getting shorter))

yeah okay okay jeez i get it . i know

only listened to matt maeson these last couple months after he dropped his new album so im glad he made the list

last.fm stats as of nov 30:

bastille: 1816 plays mcr: 1200 the wombats: 937 matt maeson: 849 rostam: 797

i was scared of mcr beating bastille this year but yeah they werent even close

this feels pretty accurate -- certainly applies to my listening habits for bastille, matt maeson, and sŵnami off the top of my head. i rlly love seeing what all my friends got for this one <3

[jarredlharris]

Live-threading my thoughts while listening to the Thereafter podcast episode featuring Tia Levings.

The following is a transcript of the live-thread I did while listening to Thereafter podcast episode 107.

Okay, all. I think it's time I listen to last week's @thereafterpodcast episodes and live-tweet my thoughts before @cortlandcoffey and @thepursuinglife release another episode and I REALLY get behind. Let's do this!

I think this is the first time I accidentally referred to it as "live-tweeting" over here. @thereafterpodcast

Also, be forewarned that I've been making typographical errors left and right all morning, so don't expect a grammatically polished thread. @thereafterpodcast

Cool. @thepursuinglife is soloing the intro this episode. Stay safe, Meghan! @thereafterpodcast

And we're right into the interview with @tialevingswriter. @thereafterpodcast

I think @tialevingswriter is the first person I've heard name Obedience Culture and that's such a powerful thing. @thereafterpodcast

. @thepursuinglife and @tialevingswriter are talking about parents who express distress and say they didn't push Purity Culture on their kids. I think they raise some good points. I also think a lot of Christians don't understand the subtle and even unintended messages they can send. @thereafterpodcast

. @tialevingswriter is talking about the infiltration of her church by ultraconservative/Dominionist ideas and it's just mind-blowing. @thereafterpodcast

Sorry for the long pause folks. @stevethepeeveo had a long heart-to-heart. Hey, somethings are more important than this live-thread. @thereafterpodcast

@cortlandcoffey (presumably to @tialevingswriter?): "It's loud. It's like you." Cortland! 🤣@thereafterpodcast

Oh, @thepursuinglife just made a reference to "Severance!" I'm all in! @thereafterpodcast

.@tialevingswriter: "The best statistics you'll ever find is just listening to survivors." 🔥 @thereafterpodcast

I'm loving listening to @tialevingswriter talk about CPTSD and its relevance to religious trauma. @thereafterpodcast

.@tialevingswriter is talking about how helpful just being able to talk about one's trauma is and I love it. @thereafterpodcast

. @cortlandcoffey is asking @tialevingswriter about ways to avoid leaving on high control group only to get pulled into another one. Good question! @thereafterpodcast

.@tialevingswriter is talking about how her experience in high control Christianity resulted in a loss of self and that's something I can relate to. @thereafterpodcast

.@tialevingswriter: "Authoritarian systems frequent result in abuse..." PREACH! @thereafterpodcast

I should note that @tialevingswriter continues beyond what I quoted it. She talks about who and how often gets abused. I do not think I'm misrepresenting her by cutting the quote where I did, but figured a full disclosure was appropriate. @thereafterpodcast

Oh, it sounds like @tialevingswriter also deconstructed prior to the days of social media. I wonder if she ever got on Telnet-based BBSes as well. @thereafterpodcast

.@tialevingswriter mentioned blogrolls and I'm feeling old. What's next? Web circles? 🤣 @thereafterpodcast

.@tialevingswriter is talking about tradwives and influencers as missionaries for evangelicalism/conservatism and it's an incredible point. @thereafterpodcast

.@tialevingswriter's political analysis is fascinating and well worth listening to. @thereafterpodcast

.@cortlandcoffey is discussing the militaristic/violent rhetoric that has historically been a huge part of conservative Christian politics. 🔥 @thereafterpodcast

.@thepursuinglife mentioned that she has even progressives have pushed back when she talks about no fault divorce and that's just like...whoa. @thereafterpodcast

*sigh* I think I'm going to have to budget for a copy of @tialevingswriter's book. @thereafterpodcast

Another great episode! @thereafterpodcast

[mjclimate]

Blog Entries

February 1, 2024: What emerging narratives are important in science and activism and how can the two complement each other?: Part 1

In narratives surrounding climate science, whiteness seems to prevail in the United States. During a class today, we had the opportunity to listen to a climate scientist and climate activist speak to their experiences, and their strengths, as well as touch lightly on how the two groups of science and activism can work together for change, and the power of communication. 

Throughout the conversation, as activists such as Greta Thunberg were brought up, and as I looked at the white activist and white scientist in the center stage of the auditorium, I wondered what it would be like to hear more from activists and scientists who were Black, Indigenous, of people of color. 

Growing up, I never thought of myself as someone who could become a scientist or a person who communicates science. Don’t get me wrong, I love science, I love the earth, and I love listening and communicating with people - I just didn’t grow up seeing people who look like me in mainstream media as scientists, or science communicators. Without representation, I was unable to dream of all of the opportunities that could be possible. Sometimes, seeing is believing. 

In 2022 there were 11 Hispanic or Latino students, 3 Asian students, 4 Black students, 2 Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander students, and 0 American Indian or Alaska Native students in the Columbia Climate School (OPIR, Columbia.edu). In a field that is dominated by whiteness, Black, Indigenous, and people of color hold voices that must be heard, especially as our populations are the ones that will be impacted statistically the most by the climate crisis due to systemic inequities, injustices, and inequalities that will be perpetuated through major weather events, increasing heat, floods, and sea rise. 

I do not take it lightly that I am a Latinx student with access to this school and its resources - and that I have the opportunity to become the science communicator I wish I could’ve seen as a child. There is also the opportunity for the institutions that exist and hold power to bring in activists and scientists of color to ensure the academics, the business leaders, the communicators, and the activists of tomorrow see themselves represented today. 

February 7, 2024: Reflect on how alumni from the program are applying their C&S degrees in different fields. Which of the alumni’s career path(s) did you find most interesting? How does this relate to your career ambitions?: Part 2 

This was an incredibly interesting panel to hear about people’s journeys, from those from an older generation of alumni to a more recent generation of alumni. In the panel of recent alumni, a majority of whom were BIPOC, there was speak of balance, of emotions, of rest, of being unsure and still finding happiness and passion. As I listened, I began to recognize that I truly must take this one step at a time. It can feel overwhelming to work, school, and life, while also looking for new work and new opportunities in the world. The great thing about Columbia, and the privileges afforded by Columbia, is that there are many opportunities to take advantage of. For me, I didn’t know many of these options existed coming into the institution, and sometimes experienced analysis paralysis from fear of making the ‘wrong,’ choice. I have to remember that there is no wrong choice, there are just choices. One step, and one day at a time is what I keep telling myself, and a message I heard from the speakers. 

Feb 14, 2024: What is one new thing about journalism that you learned from the speakers in class today? What kind of climate stories resonate with you the most and why?: Part 3

I connect strongly to climate stories that have a focus on constructive  hope, as I believe 

“Climate change is a crisis of heart.”

When I wrote about joining the climate school in my purpose statement, I wrote about how I wanted to look myself in the mirror, look my future children in the eyes, and say with full faith - “I tried. We tried.” 

When I think about climate change, I think about how I have had nights frozen in bed, my breath halting, as I realized that the world that I know and love was already changing. 

I think about the moments when I’m talking with friends and we say “We have to try to visit that place (the glaciers, coral reefs, the whales)  before it’s too late!”

I think about the older woman in the homelessness encampment in the middle of winter as she lived with untreated cancer, and we ate a meal together in the snow. I think about how many more will be unhoused in the years to come, freezing or overheating because of the results of the rich’s impact on the world. 

I think about how domestic violence rates rise when people are trapped inside, and how in the United States, it is becoming clear that our air is susceptible to becoming unbreathable -  forest fire smoke knows no borders - and how many people will come outside after days of protecting their lungs with new bruises hidden under their longsleeved shirts. 

I think about my old coach who drilled into me that “the game’s not over till it’s over,” and how often I apply that phrase to this climate fight. 

I think about the people I met while volunteering in disaster relief from a flooded river, supporting one another as their homes disappeared under water, despite, or perhaps because of, the shared grief of lost lives. 

I think about the time when my best friend slowly asked me if I thought this world was on its way out. 

I think about the time when my mom asked me over the holidays why we should have hope, and admitted to me that it was hard for her to hope when there is so much greed. 

I think about miners in Appalachia who went on strike because of the poor labor conditions and about the man connected to an oxygen tank because of the years he spent underground breathing in the coal that powered the country. I think about how he told me he would do it again to ensure financial security for his family. 

I think about all that I take for granted; the air I breathe, the water I drink, the trees that provide shade, the cool winds that comfort me when I’m overwhelmed. And how quickly it can all disappear. And how the fight to ensure it all stays will be long and slow. 

I’m not sure how to talk about this as a formal analysis, because I have yet been able to breach the gap between academics and heart. In my classes, I feel overwhelmed because we talk about island nations sinking, whole communities losing their homes, and needing to migrate. I look at graphs, modules, and numbers that tell me the world is heating, that it’s in crisis, that we are in crisis, and I look around and I don’t see anyone else with tears in their eyes or on their cheeks. And so I silently wipe them away and keep on working, telling myself I’m overreacting. 

And yet, I’m not. 

I understand that it is a strength to be able to feel both the pain of the loss of this world, and seeing the earth in pain, while also being able to hold and see the beauty within it. The only way forward is to try our best to see and feel all of it. 

I feel as if sometimes scientists, academics, business people, and politicians, can focus so deeply on the trees in the forest, and I feel myself doing the same the longer I am at this school, as a coping mechanism to deal with all the new knowledge I’m gaining of how much pain this world is in. I don’t think their way of thinking is wrong. I don’t think mine is either. We need all different types of framing to meet people, to create a new future for ourselves. 

It’s not all pain. It’s hope. It’s faith. I can see a world that does not look like the one we have today because we simply cannot continue to exist in this way. The goal is to not fight to continue the status quo, it is to create a different future. A future where kids think it’s silly that we ever drove cars with gasoline, and gasp when their parents talk about that summer in NYC when the sky went orange and people’s white masks were stained black from the smoke from a fire a country away. A future where whole nations' lives are not thrown away to the seas and the droughts so the wealthy can continue to overconsume. A future where we listen and return to the earth much more than we take. A future that holds more justice, equity, and equality. 

I have received the feedback that having hope is childish. What is being an adult then? - Letting go of the need for something better? Hope creates space to imagine something new, and not everyone has the privilege of having enough stability and safety to be able to imagine; so many of us are preoccupied with just surviving within these oppressive systems. So for those of us who can dream, hope, and imagine, that is a privilege we cannot waste or throw away, as we must first imagine a different world to create it. 

Feb 22, 2024: Part 4

Do you have any big ideas that you’d like to see translated into action? What are they and what tools might you use to put them into action?

A big idea that I’d like to see translated into action is being able to create a trauma informed news network for climate science. I used to work in sexual violence prevention, and I feel as if I have seen many people have similar freeze and dissociative responses to climate news and disaster, as they do to stories of sexual violence. This is not to say that climate stories should not be communicated, and that the race for clicks on stories can increase the output of stories that encourage a reader’s freeze response and feelings of hopelessness. By curating stories that have a basis of hope into action and tangible steps for readers, this may be supportive towards creating a climate shift. To create a news network, this would take a considerable amount of power, time, money, networking, and resources. If possible, mental health professionals could either be hired onto the network or act as highly paid consultants for both their time and efforts, as well as reporters. These stories could be created in a myriad of ways, from videos, to written word, to op-eds, and more. 

Feb 22, 2024: Choose a / the moment that led you to pivot towards climate work. It can be big or small, sad or funny, uncanny, even a moment of levity:  Part 5

A few years ago, I went through a hearing process, a process I had begun to seek justice for myself surrounding someone who had abused me. After the whole process, I lost. The verdict was that there was clear evidence of impact, and not enough evidence to prove that the abuse had happened. That day I watched the person who had abused me for years walk away without consequence. I had fought for myself for over a year, and in the end, it felt like it had amounted to nothing. I felt like I had been pushed down, and kicked while down, and I didn’t know when I would get back up. 

During this time, I recognized the power of community through my experiences

of contact with sexual violence during the hearing process. I was not alone during this process. I had an entire community behind me and with me. Friends, family, professors, and an advocacy support group, all contributed to this community. I would not be where I am today without the community that so strongly supported me, even during times when it felt like I could not be there for myself.

Now, I am a sexual violence prevention educator. As a part of an amazing team of educators, I can plant new seeds to help prevent events like the ones that happened to me from happening to others. Together, we provide the opportunity for children and adults to learn that they are worthy and deserving, and that consent and love cannot be forced. As a queer, Latinx, non-binary, person of color, the likelihood of being impacted by sexual violence is higher than for folks who may not hold marginalized identities. I did not feel exceptionally brave during the hearing process. Yet, I know it takes courage to lose a fight and to get back up with an even deeper conviction that this world is worth fighting for and belief that I can be part of community-based action to create change. This belief follows through to climate, the recognition that even if I lose a fight, I can get back up, and try again in a new way. Climate hope, climate resilience, is not about ignoring the realities of climate. It is about being able to see the reality, feel the fear, feel the doubt, and decide to create change in the face of all those aspects. 

February 22, 2024: Part 6 

What’s your pivot story? 

A year and a half ago, one of my students looked up at me as we took a break from backpacking and asked me “Why aren’t the adults doing anything?” 

 A boy of 12 years old with big brown eyes, told me how he was confused about how he saw that adults were not doing anything to shift climate change. His dad had told him that the adults were not doing anything because they were ‘stupid.’ Elian declared that he didn’t think that people were stupid, but that they were filled with selfishness and greed. “What about us?” he asked me, “Don’t I deserve a world when I grow up?” 

His words hit my heart. I took an inventory of myself. Whether I liked it or not, I was one of the adults Elian was speaking about. I want to be able to say to my kids and myself one day when they ask me what I did to support to shift of the tides of climate change and crisis, that I put my heart and mind into working with the community to make sure there is a world left for them to grow in, to play in, and to thrive in. I believe that learning in Columbia’s Climate and Society school will be one of the steps for me to continue on this lifelong journey. 

March 21, 2024: Part 7

Climate change and social inequities loom large, demanding urgent action. While governments and communities work hard, the private sector, with its resources and innovation, holds a powerful position in addressing these challenges.

A position that resonates with me surrounding the financial and private sectors is the ability to mobilize so many people since at the end of the day we are all consumers. One aspect a classmate brought up is the extensive reach companies such as Coca-Cola have. If Coca-Cola provided funding for areas where large swaths of its products are provided, there could be communication methods put into place for possible climate action and adaptation. For instance, there could be small messages put onto Coca-Cola bottles and Coke products, surrounding what to do in case of climate-induced or enhanced natural disasters. Private companies for better or for worse have a large amount of power. What would happen if private sectors harnessed their power into climate messaging? 

March 28, 2024: Part 8 

What did I think about this class? 

This class is actually one of my favorite classes, and this is not to be a suck up or to get extra credit. This class has been one of my favorites because of all of the different perspectives that are brought into this class. There are days where students may ask “Why are we doing this,” when a presenter speaks that doesn’t meet their interests. I used to be one of those students in essentially all of my classes the first semester at Columbia University, silently wondering to myself why I had asked for thousands of dollars in loans in order to receive an education about topics I did not care about, or see the importance in.  

At that point in my graduate experience, I was resentful of the large focus on economics, finances, and mitigation measures such as carbon capture in the program. I would often wonder to myself how this was a climate and society program, it seemed more like a climate and finance program. I had come into the program to learn more about climate justice and climate equity, to learn how society thinks, communicates, and feels so I could learn how to better meet people so we could move forward together surrounding climate. I felt disenfranchised, burnt out, and so saddened to hear people’s lives and homes casually spoken about as “tradeoffs.” 

This particular class supported in easing my burn out, because it had a focus on connection. Connecting to people who are experts in the field of climate - whether that’s a journalist, a scientist, finance worker, a government worker, an activist, a writer, an artist, a movie maker, or a teacher - was and is an invaluable experience. It’s all these people and all of the effort they pool that will create a difference. Connecting to our classmates through games and class discussions has proven to be important, to show that we are more than our productivity and our goals - in reality we’re all just people trying to make out way through a rigorous program, stand in our values, and hopefully find an opportunity for a steady income along the way. I am no longer as resentful of economics, finances, or mitigation measures. I understand it takes all of us to tip the needle in a positive direction, into a future where a liveable earth for all forms of life continues to be possible, and although I may not be the forefront of economics or mitigation I can now see the importance, the value, and the effort it takes to be a part of those movements. This class helps weave all the different aspects together, creating an opportunity to learn, connect, and sometimes offer a much needed break from the intensity of the overall climate program. 

April 4, 2024: Part 9 

Did simulating climate negotiations give you a new perspective on policy negotiations? What did you learn from the experience?

This did give me a new perspective on policy negotiations. For my past perspectives, I had a tendency to genuinely forget that policy makers are just people. I’ve had a habit of imagining that policy makers are bigger than life, and know more than the rest of us. In reality, they are just people making hard decisions, with the knowledge that they possess, with the biases based off of their own lives and community needs. To be able to genuinely advocate for the needs of one community, while trying to take into account the larger picture, is a difficult task for people to do. It does make me think and wonder about how in times of disaster, how policy makers may have trouble making decisions that are not out of fear, or trauma informed. For instance, if a local policy maker sees their hometown ravaged by flood, and is experiencing a human trauma response, they may not be able to make a purely rational decision, and rather make one that is based off protection, and even fear. This can impact a scientists work in communication, and the importance of people in communication, who are able to both speak to the science and to the people.

April 11, 2024: Part 10 

What is your reaction to the speakers today? How can adaptation to climate change be done justly, how can it be organized, and who makes what decisions? 

I genuinely enjoyed the variety of speakers today, and the emphasis the speakers had on community input, Indigenous tradition and knowledge, and how a just transition is when community voices are heard. It was especially interesting for me to learn more about how housing, as I used to work in the housing sector. The emphasis on creating safety as a major pillar was one that I really resonated with. It is incredibly difficult for people to function and think about the climate, if their basic needs are not met, and I greatly appreciated that the speakers put an emphasis on this. I also appreciated that there is acknowledgement that local community members, advocates, and organizations must be included in adaptation methods, and that top down approach alone is not enough and is not sustainable. To be able to create a long term plan surrounding adaptation the people most impacted, must be involved in decision making from the start, rather than an afterthought, or as tokenization. 

April 18, 2024: Part 11

Reflect on what you’ve learned throughout the semester and what you are considering for the next step in your Climate Pathway after C&S. 

Wow, an intense question. Throughout this semester, something that has come as a big message for me both in and outside of the classroom, is that without balance in life, I cannot tangibly hope to be much help and support to others, community, and the Earth. I have seen speaker after speaker come in, each putting effort in their own ways to shift the tides of climate change, and I have recognized that there is no one way to support the planet. Coming into the climate school, I had come from a grassroots activist background. In all honesty, I was burnt out. I was tired of fighting the way I had been, and knew I had to change. 

Throughout the semester, I have begun to learn and navigate the importance of balance in my own life, and in this fight against rising temperatures and sea rise. The fight for a livable planet is one with a timeline on it, and there is also the recognition that there are many players. Burn out culture seems to be incredibly real in the climate space, which makes sense and is understandable. We only have so much time. And we will all last so much longer, if we allow ourselves balance, if we allow ourselves rest. If we allow others to take the weight for a bit, and then allow ourselves to come back later. We are of no use in this transition if we are all burnt out, and working in unsustainable levels, at least I am not of use.

As we listened to our speakers, I heard them all come from different perspectives. They came from perspectives of peace, science, policy, innovation, advocacy, communication, and so many more and what I took in was there is no one way to show up for the earth or community. Some of us are going to go fast and furious, some of us will go moderately, and some of us will go slowly and we are all needed. 

My next steps in my climate pathway are to continue my research in climate equity, and returning to climate education in some capacity. I have realized throughout this year, that the moments in class I was most engaged was the times I was teaching, asking questions, and working together to find a common solution. I’m excited to return to teaching, with new skills, new hopes, and new resources.