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toastedqueso · 3 years

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Show Me The Way

Pairing: Yuta x Original Female Character | Reader

Genre: Friends With Benefits, Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Explicit sexual content (Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex), Language, Yuta has tattoos and nipples piercings (I put that out in the universe, please make it happen)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After an unpleasant meeting with her mother, Chloe seeks comfort in her best friend Yuta. She thinks back to how they started and how they got here. Two hearts beating together, but can the two hearts be together?

Random Word Generator Prompt:

Must be about Yuta

Must contain these words: Therapist, Benefit, Judgment

A/N: This is part of the Random Word Generator Challenge with a friend. I tried to keep to 2k words, but it's slightly longer. Oops! Also, please practice safe sex!

Dinner with her mother leaves Chloe fuming. Chloe’s mother has a habit of dropping by unannounced under the guise of motherly duty only to remind Chloe how disappointing she is. In her eyes, Chloe could never meet her standards for perfection. After graduating high school, Chloe left to go to college on the other side of the country to escape her mother’s suffocating clutches. Unfortunately, her mother started making unannounced visits when she sensed Chloe trying to distance herself.

For the sake of her sanity, Chloe always spends their time together going through a list of her favorite things - shows, songs, food, even her favorite socks. This was something her Therapist had taught her to do - do something pleasant when faced with something unpleasant. This time, she only makes a list of 25 songs before her mother cuts their meeting short. Fortunately for Chloe, her mother has to get drinks with her business partners - the real reason she’s in town.

Now back in the comfort of her apartment, Chloe does breathing exercise from a meditation app to calm down. This is step 1 in her “post-motherly interrogation meltdown” recovery manual. Step 2 is waiting for Yuta’s text. A notification appears on her phone alerting her of Yuta’s text.

Yuta I’ll be over in a sec your mom she sucks

The text calms her a little. Step 3 was set to go. Yuta is the only person she finds she can confide in without judgment.

While she waits for Yuta to arrive, she thinks back to how their friendship was molded. They met during Freshman year when they both ran into their English class late and the Professor kept them both after class to reprimand them. They both sulked out of the class, but once out of the classroom they burst into fits of laughter. Their shared misfortune from the start of their college careers led to their inseparable friendship.

Yuta was an open book. He spoke freely and Chloe never had to second guess his intentions. It took Chloe some time to open up, but Yuta was patient and never pried for information. Chloe’s relationship with her mother further strained when she told her she switched her major from Business Administration to Psychology. Yuta was there to witness the call and was there to lift her spirits by dragging her to a wild night out to get absolutely trashed.

Their relationship took a turn after Chloe had drunkenly confessed to Yuta how sexy she thought his tattoos were.

“Only my tattoos?” Yuta teased.

Chloe shoved Yuta. “You’re sexy. And I’d fuck you right here. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Yuta laughed. “I only wanted the truth. And for the record, you’re sexy and I wanna fuck you too.”

Chloe blushed, more from his words than the alcohol. She leaned in to give him a kiss with more tongue than her sober self would have allowed. Yuta broke the kiss and looked in Chloe’s eyes.

“While I want nothing more than to fuck you till you can’t walk, you’re drunk. If you remember this tomorrow, then we can pick up where we left off,” Yuta offered.

The next morning, Chloe sported a hangover, but remembered everything from the night before. Yuta knew she’d be embarrassed to face him, so he came over with breakfast to help lighten the mood before they talked. She was silent while eating breakfast, but after her stomach felt slightly better she had enough courage to broach their drunken proposition.

“Soooo the cat’s out of the bag,” Chloe tried to joke.

“You mean pussy?” Yuta replied in a playful tone.

Chloe scoffed while Yuta laughed at her reaction.

“Well, we’re both hot and we know how we feel about each other, SOOOO,” Yuta replied. Though he wanted more, he wanted Chloe to decide what she was comfortable with.

“Yuta, I don’t want a relationship,” Chloe shot down instantly. Judging by the look of shock on Yuta’s face, she knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want you. I want you SO bad, but, you know, me and relationships, they don’t work out,” Chloe explained.

Yuta did know. He witnessed Chloe have her heart broken countless times throughout their friendship. He guessed her failed relationships might have also had something to do with her mother.

“Well, you can have me how you want me, Chloe. We can still be the same Chloe and Yuta, best of buds, but now upgraded with the physical benefits. You know, friends with benefits,” Yuta suggested cautiously. He looked rather shy and seemed a little unsure of himself.

“Are you okay with that?” Chloe eyed him carefully.

“Seriously? Already trying to kill off my genius idea?” Yuta reverted back to his usual playful nature.

“I don’t want to hold you back from relationships. If you ever want to move on or get tired of me, just tell me. I’ll be fine.”

Yuta reached out to cradle her face in his hands.

“Chloe, don’t overthink it. I’ll never get tired of you. We’ll always be friends. We’re just two very hot friends having sex like all the time. It’s what the universe wants.”

Chloe laughed and sealed their deal with a kiss.

The knocking on her front door breaks Chloe from her reverie. She quickly opens the door and Yuta practically jumps in to hug her.

“I came as fast as I could,” Yuta says out of breath. Chloe feels slightly guilty for making him rush over.

“Thanks Yuta. Sorry if I interrupted something,” Chloe says as she sits on the couch. He shakes his head to brush off her apology.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yuta asks softly as he sits down and places a hand on her knee.

Chloe is touched by his genuine concern, but brushes it off. She takes his hand off her knee and straddles him.

“You know I didn’t call you here to be my Therapist,” Chloe replies. She grabs the bottom hem of his shirt and swiftly takes it off.

“You want me that bad?” Yuta tilts his head back on the couch and laughs.

“Shut up and kiss me, idiot,” Chloe demands. Yuta smirks before he molds their lips together. He starts off slow and tender, before she licks his lower lip signalling him to go deepen the kiss.

Chloe quickly takes her clothes off while Yuta struggles out of his jeans. Growing impatient, Chloe pulls Yuta closer as she sits naked on the couch. She moves her hands down his chest before her fingers delicately brush over his nipple piercings. He lets out a soft moan before he grabs her hands.

“Tonight it’s about you,” Yuta says, taking her hands off of him.

Yuta kneels in front of her and throws her legs over his shoulders. He licks her clit and feels her legs shaking already. He slowly inserts a finger in her pussy while he continues licking her clit. He sneaks a peek at Chloe and sees her writhing in pleasure.

“You’re so wet,” Yuta comments.

“Shut up and make me come,” Chloe demands. She grabs his hair and pushes his face closer to her clit.

Sensing her impatience, he adds another finger and picks up the pace of the thrusts. He slightly curves his fingers and goes back to licking her clit. Chloe tightens her hold on Yuta’s hair and curses when she feels her orgasm come over her. Once she comes down from her high, she lets go of Yuta’s hair. She looks down and sees Yuta looking in her eyes while licking his soaked fingers.

Before Yuta takes his boxers off, Chloe pushes him onto the couch. Chloe kneels in front of him and softly kisses the butterfly tattoo peaking out of his boxers on his left hip. She grabs his dick out of his boxers and smiles at how hard he already is. She licks the head of his cock before slowly licking up and down the shaft. Yuta lets out a moan when she takes his whole dick in her mouth. The sight of her sucking his dick makes him want to lose control and fuck her mouth. Chloe’s mouth keeps a steady pace on his dick, which makes him whine.

Yuta grabs her hair and pulls her up for her kiss. Tasting Yuta’s restlessness, Chloe straddles him and lines up his cock to her pussy. Without breaking the kiss, she slowly lowers herself before raising her hips then slamming back down faster. Yuta grabs her face to break the kiss.

“God, your pussy feels so fucking good,” Yuta says before he delicately kisses her earlobe.

Chloe finds her rhythm and picks up the pace taking him deeper each time. Yuta’s hands move up to massage her breasts, inciting a moan from Chloe.

Yuta can sense that Chloe is about to reach her orgasm soon by the way she’s digging her nails into his shoulders. Taking over, he grabs her hips to steady her before he starts thrusting up into her pussy at a rapid pace.

“FUCK! I’m gonna come,” Chloe warns as she starts rubbing her clit.

Chloe moans as her pussy tightens around Yuta’s dick. Yuta kisses her as she rides out her orgasm. Yuta reaches to pull out, but Chloe stops him.

“I want you to come inside me,” Chloe whispers in his ear before she kisses his neck.

Yuta grabs her ass to press her body closer to him and picks up the pace of his thrusts. Chloe kisses down his chest before licking his left nipple piercing and rubbing the other.

“Fuck! Keep doing that,” Yuta demands.

Not long after, Yuta feels the familiar feeling of pleasure and comes deep inside Chloe. He pulls her face away from his nipple piercing to meet him in a kiss. Coming down from his high, he holds her close as they steady their breathing.

Yuta quickly grabs some tissues as he pulls out and wipes his cum off before it drips out Chloe and onto the couch. He throws the tissues away before returning to the couch to snuggle with Chloe.

Although neither of them would say it out loud, cuddling after sex was one of their favorite things to do together. Yuta buries his face in her hair, pondering how to best choose his next words. He gives Chloe a kiss on her temple, catching her attention.

“You know I’m here for you whenever you need me.” Yuta reminds her as he combs her hair with his fingers.

“I know,” Chloe replies, fearful of what Yuta may say next. Yuta wasn’t usually much of a talker after sex.

“Chloe, I want to be there for you even more than I already am. If you let me,” Yuta confesses.

“Yuta,” Chloe starts. Even if he doesn’t explicitly say it, she knows he wants more.

“Come on, Chloe.”

“You know why. You know what I’m like.”

“Yes I do and that’s why I want you,” Yuta tries to convince her.

Yuta accepting her despite all her issues and flaws should be comforting, it is comforting, but Chloe doesn’t want to let him in. Chloe sighs and closes her eyes. This was not what she wanted to deal with after mindblowing sex. She needs to keep herself centered from her conflicting emotions.

“Forget what I said. I’m leaving,” Yuta announces. He quickly picks up his boxers and jeans from where they were strewn.

Chloe stays silent as she watches Yuta get dressed, unable to find the words that might comfort him. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same as Yuta, but she didn’t feel that she deserved something so good when there was so much bad in her life.

“The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner you’ll want me back anyway,” He lashes out as he grabs his shirt.

“Yuta, It’s not like that,” Chloe starts.

“No it’s cool. I know my place.” Yuta hastily slips on his shoes and opens the front door. “See you tomorrow.”

He steps out of the apartment without turning back.

Chloe feels bad for putting him through this. She feels bad he wants more. She feels bad she can’t bring herself to say she wants more too.

#yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct yuta #nct 127 #nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #fwb au #smut #angst #hurt/comfort #*challenge: random word generator

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qlistening · 3 years

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Is Now a Good Time to Become a Hippie?

Ha ha fun little opening note: I opened my iPad to write this and saw the Cornell notes template and now I’m wondering how the people who had to take Cornell notes to get through college are doing these days. Probably not well.

I’m cracking open the blog again this summer to really do some justice to the two month identity crisis that I, and maybe you, have been experiencing since graduation. I’ve been through the wringer, like most people, with the classic post-grad crises of “What am I doing with my life?” and “What am I even good at?”, and “Will I ever have fun again like I did in college?”. But honestly fuck those crises. That kind of shit is so cliche and boring to talk about. I need bigger broader shit on my plate. The type of existential garbage that can really wreck you. The types of questions that can’t be answered by your Mom saying “it’s okay honey”.

So the set I came up with is as follows: “What rules should I live my life by if I truly believe that our society will crumble to climate change in 1 - 2 generations?”, “How can I ever protect my soul from capitalism when I need the constant stimulation of city life to distract me from my depression?”, and “If I reconnect with my hippie childhood, will it destroy my chances of happiness and success later in life like it did for my parents?”.

I know what you’re thinking: “That’s an awesome list Ava. I wish I could have come up with that myself”. Sorry you can’t be me.

It’s got just enough “this girl needs to lay off the acid” undertones to be dismissed by the common man, yet is valid enough to make any stoner or stoner+ (the + is psychedelics) a little itchy.

Whithought further ado--I left this typo in here because I couldn’t stop laughing at it--, lettuce unpack these crises.

1. What rules should I live my life by if I truly believe that our society as we know it will crumble in 1 - 2 generations? I wish the answer was as simple as “more whippets”, but sadly, it just never is. There are actually a lot of sub-questions here like “Is enough change to reverse the course of climate change even possible at this point?”, “Does our species even deserve to be saved, or should we lean into the suffering and let the deer dance on our graves?”, “What the fuck are you supposed to be with your life when you can’t bring yourself to reproduce because the world is ending so you have to constantly invent a sense of purpose for yourself instead of just using your kids as a cop out?, and lastly “What if you’re making a mistake by not going to Mars with Jeff and Elon na d the vibes there end up being super lit?”

You see, I’m really good at coming up with these questions, but pretty bad at answering them. All I’ve come up with in terms of the rules and purpose part is just to vibe it out and focus my energy on good ol’ drugs, sex, and rock n roll till the end. But UH OH! Now I’ve become my parents.

Perhaps I could focus on nature, gratitude, and spirituality? OH CRUD! Now I’m Rose, who has definitely reconciled these issues better than me, but has the advantage of being an introvert. Shorty don’t need that social stimulation like I do and can just go hermit mode when the going gets tough. Not I.

How about a commune? Tempting, but I’ve heard about a lot of commune drama in my day and don’t really want to get whisked into some Midsommer shit by accident.

Comedy? Can’t go monetizing my best coping mechanism, now can I?

Pose your questions to a broader audience in folk songs like Bob Dylan? I think I’m too street for that and I can’t play the guitar.

Focus on work and being successful? Nope. Work blows and I’m supposed to be protecting my soul from capitalism.

I tend to treat this question like the hard ones on the EOGs and just skip it and plan on circling back later.

2. How do I protect my soul from capitalism when I need the constant stimulation of city life to distract me from my depression? And when I say I need that shit, I mean it. New people. New shit to do. All the time. I ain’t havin’ no baby, so settling down isn’t in the cards either. There is no scenario where I am going to move out to the suburbs just to stare at my husband every night for 30+ years or, in a more likely scenario, stare at the wall. I’m staying on the scene for a long time, maybe forever.

That being said, the city is ripe with capitalism. Everyone works like a dog 24/7, switching back and forth between 2 - 4 Apple devices to accomplish God knows what in the grand scheme of things. Tech, finance, and marketing (the classic city trio) have to be the most pointless and cutthroat industries we have come up with to date. It feels like you have to have to have one of those jobs to live there. To afford it, sure, but beyond that, to know that you beat out someone else to get it and that you have successfully stepped on your first of many necks on the way to the top.

I’m moving to Chicago in like 2 weeks to work in tech/finance and sucking my own dick for having a management position so, clearly, I am not above any of this. But I sure wish I was. Even the first month of my soul-selling transaction feels like it has taken years off my life and dulled my flame quite a bit more than school ever did. So I am on the LOOKOUT for ways to get my mouth on some deep dish pizza and fine Chicago men without all of these bullshit side effects.

And Finally…

3. If I reconnect with my hippie childhood now, will it destroy my chances at happiness and success like it did for my parents?

I feel like this one needs to be elaborated on a little more. For anyone who doesn’t know, my parents are both raging Dead Heads who practiced the art of escapism together on tour for 20 some years until Jerry Garcia died tragically in ‘95. In a desperate search for a new purpose, they popped out me and my sister and now we’re all living the middle class dream in a ranch house on the outskirts of Greensboro. “But at least they’re happy and they love each other right?” Nope. Ls all around.

Sadly, this isn’t just my parents. This seems to be the classic hippie timeline. You feel good, get high, get laid, and indulge your senses in your 20s and you realize that none of it is monetizable and come out the other end begging for capitalism to take you back and bless you with a mediocre career. I know I sound like Nixon right now, but I’m just reading off the data from what I’ve seen.

Shit is really fucking sad man. I just want to think and feel and vibe and enjoy the world for what it is before it gets too crispy but I feel like I can’t. Any step away from my career feels like it will just land me at the bottom of the totem poll with a job that sucks even more than the one I started with. And yeah, I’m a lot smarter and slicker and decidedly childless than my parents, but it feels like a big fucking dice roll to do the same thing that they did and expect a different outcome. I mean they are the two most genetically similar people to me on the planet, after-all. I really do think I have to be careful and stick with the straight and narrow for now. Bummer because I would like to just bool before the world ends, but unfortunately, that’s going to take a little too long for me to avoid these problems.

In conclusion: I believe the answer to the question I posed in the title is “Not really and I should probably start hashing these things out with a therapist instead of a tumblr blog sooner rather than later”.

And if you are wondering, no I am not high right now, but I am about to be because that shit was heavy.

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kalgalen · 4 years

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College au nonsense, tidbit 3

(in which i don’t know anything about the american school system and it shows)

***

For the first fifteen years of his life, Travis is sure he's going to marry Margaret.

It's not that he's particularly romantic; after all, he's only five when he meets her. Margaret is a small, quiet child who often gets bothered by bigger kids; Travis just happens to be in the right place, at the right time, in a foul mood and with a bone to pick with people using their size to terrorise others. He gets out of the encounter with a scrape and a lifelong friend.

They spend a lot of time together, after that. Adults being what they are, they immediately start calling them an "adorable couple", and - well. They are only children. They don't understand what it means, but they know they like each other.

Margaret and Travis grow up together, start officially dating once they're old enough to know what it implies. They keep to themselves a lot - not to say they aren't popular in their own way, but no one else is quite worth their time as much as the other is.

Travis can't remember who jokes about getting married first; they're in middle school anyway, adult life is still a distant prospect. What he remembers, though, is Margaret telling him about her parents moving to the other side of the country. What he remembers is his whole world shattering, reduced to the single point of pain that is Margaret's absence. What he remembers is the loneliness.

Well. It doesn't matter anymore, does it? It was a long time ago.

This is a new school year. He's taken a major in theatre this time; he's always been a good liar, after all, maybe this is the path he was meant to take.

He's hanging out at the coffee shop on campus, scrolling through Twitter as he wait for his coffee - a monstrosity of cream and caramel syrup - when someone taps him on the arm; he looks up, about to tell whoever it is to get lost -

"William?"

-and suddenly his breath is caught in his throat, and he almost drops his phone, because she is in front of him, her brown eyes searching his face for the kid she used to know, as beautiful and perfect as he remembers her.

Travis imagines he must look like an idiot, mouth hanging agape, speechless. He almost forgets to answer when the barista calls his name, but it does break the spell, and he grabs his drink before turning to Margaret.

"Hum. Yeah. Travis, now, actually," he corrects her, gesturing with his cup. "... Margaret?"

Thankfully, she doesn't ask for more details. Instead she offers a correction of her own. "I prefer Margot. Less of a mouthful," she laughs, tucking a stray strand of curly brown hair behind her ear.

"Right," Travis says, still somewhat stunned. "Margot."

She hums, then an awkward silence falls between them. They're simply staring at each other, making an inventory of the differences they can see between the child they were and the adult they've become. Margaret - Margot - is taller than he remembers, though not by much; she's wearing a green blouse, practical jeans and leather boots. Her messenger bag is covered in iron-on patches, one of which proclaims "tree hugger". There's a tattoo on her neck, some sort of black flower Travis finds awfully familiar. She looks - good.

(Travis wonders what Margot sees as she looks at him.)

He mentally shakes himself, trying to recover some of his cool. "Hum… So, what are you doing here?"

"I enrolled here this year." She smiles. "Did a lot of different stuff after graduating high school, searching for myself, you know how it is."

"Oh? What are you studying?"

"Psychology! I realised I was good at listening to people, and I like helping, so I want to become a therapist. What about you?"

Travis hums, takes a sip of his drink to give himself some time. Having concrete plans for the future? Can't relate. That's why he's been switching majors over and over again, never able to settle for one; that's why he is stuck there - on his own terms.

"Majoring in theatre," he finally answers. "This time around." Margot raises a questioning eyebrow, and he elaborates: "This isn't my first rodeo. I've studied some history and biology before - it didn't really stick, though." Shrugs. "Figured I'd be more lucky in the arts."

"You've always been a great liar," Margot teases. "I'm sure you'll do great."

Travis hums. "That's what I said! And, like, even if this doesn't work out, there are plenty of classes I haven't tried yet."

"Trouble finding your calling?" Margot inquires, a strange look in her eyes.

"Something like that."

She hesitates. "You know, I could -"

Before she can finish her sentence, one of the baristas calls her name. She accepts her drink with a thanks, then turns back to Travis, juggling it as she retrieves a pen in her bag's front pocket.

"Show me your cup," she demands. When Travis does, she scribbles something on it. "I have to run, but here's my number. Call me soon, let's catch up."

"Sure," Travis says. "Huh…" He clears his throat, shuffles a bit on his feet. "I missed you," he says really quickly.

Margot blinks, then smiles. "Missed you too. See you later!"

He watches her go.

Mh.

This is going to be a thing, then.

#skypod college au #fic tag #idk man i just love them #skyjacks #fuck it maintagging that one

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Stubborn Independence

TITLE: Stubborn Independence

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 9/10

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine Loki struggling to adjust to someone who is independent and insists on paying for themselves all the time, even if it is a struggle sometimes. They need to do everything on their own. They never ask for help and refuse help. Just imagine Loki really wanting to spoil this person. Imagine how creative he would get to make life easier on this person who has captivated him.

Imagine being a talented singer at your local club. Loki comes in one night with Thor and the others (he’d rather be anywhere else but who turns down free drinks?) and gets ensnared in the voice of the beautiful singer on stage. Suddenly, his interest (and arousal) are more than piqued.

Imagine getting into a petty fight with Loki, so in retaliation, he puts everything on the top shelf where you can’t reach?

AUTHOR’S NOTES: College AU. Loki is determined to take over Odin’s company. He works hard and has a strict schedule for success. However, with the interference of Thor and the other four, Loki’s plans are often interrupted so they can play matchmaker.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Loki went with Thor to talk to their parents together a few days after.

Odin yelled. “As a family we have images to uphold for the business-and a child in college and not married? Your grades are already bad enough, how do you expect to pass college once this baby is born?!”

Loki tried to step in. “Thor’s grades have improved drastically. Father, Thor IS working hard.”

Odin made a loud abrupt sound to silence everyone.

“You are stripped of any chance to have my company. Get out.”

Frigga spoke calmly as her eyes tried to catch Odin’s. “Let him finish his dinner.”

Thor replied as he stood, “I don’t have an appetite anymore.” He threw his napkin on his plate then left.

Loki sat still as Thor left then looked to his mother who nodded.

Loki stood and excused himself.

Thor was walking up the street and Loki hurried in his car to pick his brother up.

Thor got in with a growl. “That went exactly how I thought it would. That old man is a fool.”

Loki spoke quietly as his hands sweat. “I am going to help you however I can.”

There was a silence as Thor seemed to be thinking.

“I have been thinking about changing my major to science. Jane is a genius and her passion about things keeps me interested to learn. There is a house we were looking into buying.”

“I will help where I can.”

“How about we go get our women and go eat somewhere.”

Loki nodded, “sounds like a wonderful plan.”

They found them sitting with everyone in the common kitchen.

When Loki looked at Sirena she was talking with Jane and then her face lit up once she saw him. Jane got up and went to Thor who embraced her with an arm around her shoulders and a hand to her head in an attempt to shelter her.

Loki was happy to have Sirena in his arms.

She mumbled into his shirt. “You are back early.”

Loki ran his fingers through her hair. “Odin is a quick decision maker…”

Sirena looked up at him as she moved away.

He followed her eyes to Thor and Jane.

Loki was a little surprised to see both of them so happy.

Sirena held Loki’s hand as she looked at him. “Did it go well?”

Loki tore his eyes off the couple to look in Sirena’s eyes. “I didn’t think so…”

Sirena walked him to the kitchen. “Did you eat?”

“Not really.”

There was a meat mixture in a skillet still.

“It’s supposed to be sloppy joe but… I didn’t have enough of the sauce.”

She gave him a plate with a sandwich on it.

“So now you are just eating joe. Ya know, get it? Cuz its not sloppy?”

Loki smiled, “yes i get it. A bit morbid but I get the joke.”

Jane and Thor walked into the kitchen.

Thor had a small smile. “Thank you for keeping this a secret. But now father knows so I am sure he will try hiding it somehow.”

Jane held Thor’s hand as she spoke to Loki and Sirena. “Yes thank you. And thank you Loki for going with Thor. The support means so much to us.”

Sirena nodded. “Anything you need I am here.”

Loki offered a smile. “Same with me. Just let me know.”

Thor sported a huge smile. “How about two of those sandwiches.” Thor looked to Loki with a slight smile… “perhaps some tutoring so I can easily switch my major..?”

Loki grinned. “I can do that.”

Loki made sure Thor was studying hard but with the plan for next semester to change majors did not mean Thor could afford bad grades. He still needed a good GPA.

Sirena would keep a close eye on Jane, especially during the evening hours because that was when Jane experienced the pregnancy sickness.

By the end of the semester everyone knew due to Jane having a bump.

Sirena was in Loki’s arms as they laid in his bed. Both drawing absentmindedly on the other’s bare skin.

Loki asked, “what do you think Sirena.. about kids.”

Sirena hummed. “Well at a later point in time would be fine. I want to finish my schooling, graduate, have a job with teaching music and being a musical therapist. Have a house that has everything a family could ever need.”

Loki kissed her head briefly. “It sounds nice and I agree. I would like to have a few years into working at A.T. as the new owner. Get settled in before starting a family. During that time I was thinking about getting a cat.”

Loki felt Sirena laugh.

“A cat?”

“Yes and we will name it something elegant and amazing.”

“Sounds good. I love you Loki.”

“I love you more.”

Sirena huffed. “I have to write an original song for my class next semester.”

“I am sure it will be great.”

“I never wrote a song before.”

“Do you want me to help you or keep assuring it is going to be amazing?”

Sirena smiled at him. “Both.”

So when next semester arrived Loki helped Sirena write a song. He was a natural poet and came up with the beautiful arrangement of words with Sirena. Then when she practiced the song, repeatedly, Loki felt their efforts really come to life.

Sirena was trying to get Loki to schedule some literature classes as well as art classes.

“Loki you are so good though. -And you love to draw and read. The song you helped me with was beyond amazing!”

Loki’s lips were in a thin line from the constant nagging.

“Sirena I need to hurry and finish with my current degrees so I can take over the company. My dad is not doing well.”

“You could still do it. You love to write.”

“It is a family business, Sirena. Thor has pushed the family away and right now this burden falls to me.”

“Listen to yourself. You said, burden. Even YOU don’t want this.”

Loki shut his mouth…

Sirens started to throw her clothes back on. “You love writing. You LOVE drawing. I see how happy you are when doing that stuff. How you careLESS about the sense of duty that is forced on you.”

“I have a responsibility to my family-”

“Yourself.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat… “you only have responsibilities to keep yourself happy.”

Loki scoffed, throwing his pants on. “Happiness never makes money.”

“Have it your way.” She walks away.

Loki goes after her and grabs her arm. “Wait. Where are you going?”

Sirena pulled her arm away as she pointed at Loki. “My future plans do not hold a miserable, bland, and loveless marriage.”

Loki grabbed her hand and plead with her. “I swear it will never be that way!”

Sirena pulled her hand away. “I am going into a field I love because the work fulfils me in a way money never will. I know you searched how much a music therapist makes and probably immediately after how much a writer makes.”

“I don’t understand your point.”

“You need the money. You need a sense of stability in your life. You need to be able to impress everyone with what you have. Loki… people dont love you for what you have. They will truly enjoy you if you chase happiness, not acceptance for something you are not.” Sirena’s eyes watered. “Ever since you found out you are getting the company you are changing into something miserable.”

“Sirena, I have to.”

“Then I have to move on because this will never work.”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #stubborn independence #brightsun-and-darkmidnight #chapter 9

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omoi-no-hoka · 4 years

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Hey! I saw your blog today and I love it very much!! I see you're an open person so, I also have a question: HOW does one survive studying japanese at uni?? I'm in my first year and only my second (online haha) semester and we started out with Minna no nihongo 1 but we're supposed to finish Minna 2 by the end of this semester, same with Basic Kanji book 1 in the first sem and now Basic Kanji Book 2, all while also learning mostly of Japan's history and others in this semester. Exams will kill me

Hello! I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog! I am open to a fault lol. Let me recount my meandering journey through uni, illustrating my feelings through gifs of Noel Fielding because he is my celebrity crush.

Uni is such a difficult time for so many people, trying to figure out who you are now and who you want to be later. It wasn’t until my senior year that I realized what I wanted to do. I started writing out my university experience and it got super long, so allow me to just summarize my “Lessons Learned” here and you can read the rest if you want to know all the dirty deets lol. I double-majored in Japanese and English, so I think that my experience can perhaps be useful to people who are majoring in things other than Japanese as well.

Hard-Learned Lessons from Uni

Do not choose a course of study because it is “practical.” Choose it because it is something you love. Seriously. Nothing is more important than this point. Do not choose a major because “I’ll make a lot of money” or “My parents are telling me this is good for me.”

If you are learning multiple languages at once, you must give your brain time to organize what you learned from one language lesson before moving on to the next. You can do this by waiting a couple hours between lessons, getting up and walking around, studying one language in different space from the other, etc. Otherwise, it all becomes a terrible mess in your head.

It’s okay not to know what you want your career to be. It’s okay not to have a specific plan. Life works out one way or the other.

I know how expensive uni can be. (It’s been six years since I graduated and I’m still making hefty loan payments.) But don’t feel like you have to take a full courseload every single semester and graduated asap, particularly if the classes are hard and/or you are working. I took the maximum credit hours allowed every semester on top of working RIDICULOUS hours and it nearly killed me at one point. I’m not kidding.

It is not unusual to have an identity crisis and/or mental breakdown. Take care of yourself. Know when you are nearing breaking point. Seek out the help of professionals. Most universities have psychiatrists and therapists that will see you very cheaply.

Surround yourself with good people and look out for each other.

Do not rely on substances to ease your suffering because sometimes the remedy becomes the malady. Not saying you should avoid all parties or anything square like that, but just don’t be one of those people that parties every night and gets in over their head.

Let me preface this by stating that I’m an American, and our universities are stupid because they force us to take a ton of “general education” courses that are irrelevant to our majors, and many students spend their first couple years taking only a couple courses related to their majors and minors, and try to focus on getting those stupid gen eds out of the way.

Year 1: Oh Shit, This Is Harder Than I Thought It Would Be

I come from a town of less than 2600 people. Our high school prepared its students for the following career paths:

joining the military (boys only)

becoming a farmer (boys only)

welding, carpentry, or other practical jobs (boys only)

becoming a housewife (girls only)

So basically I coasted through high school never having to study anything because it was one great big joke, only I thought I was like super duper smart because I was in the top five of my graduating class of 48. LOLLLLLLLLL

I entered university as a German major, Japanese minor. (Japanese was not offered as a major at my uni). I had never studied German previously, but I studied Spanish and French in high school and I just had this feeling that German and Japanese were the languages for me.

The first semester, I had Japanese 101 and German 101 back to back, in the EXACT SAME CLASSROOM. I can’t stress enough how much of a mindfuck it was to go from thinking about Japanese for 50 minutes, having a 10 minute break, and then trying to switch your brain to German. IN THE SAME ROOM. It actually gave me headaches to try and make that mental jump. Managed to pull through the year with A’s in both, but German was much more of a challenge to me than Japanese. Which was really unexpected.

I also flunked several gen eds because I didn’t give a shit about them and skipped them and got placed on academic probation and was nearly kicked out of uni because of my poor grades

Basically, I was such a weeb that I had watched enough anime with subtitles and sung along to enough anime songs that I had absorbed about 90% of the first year’s worth of Japanese vocab and grammar through osmosis. I really did have the power of God and anime on my side.

Year 2: The Year of the Mid-Midlife Crisis and Mental Breakdown

There really is no gif that will encapsulate the level of turmoil I went through that year. I looked really hard for one, trust me.

It became apparent very quickly that I could not keep up with German. I ended up dropping it early in the first semester, which meant I had to choose a new major. Thinking of what would be practical to pair with a Japanese minor, I went for International Business for a semester, took Accounting, and realized that I HATE The Man, corporate bullshit, and also numbers as a concept.

All I knew at this point was that I liked Japanese but couldn’t make it a major. I also knew I didn’t want to transfer universities. So I kept taking gen eds, just barely passing them because to this day I cannot bring myself to put effort into something I do not care about, and also taking more classes related to my Japanese minor. It was the Japanese classes that saved my GPA and kept me from getting kicked out of uni.

At the same time, I took a creative writing course because that’s been a hobby of mine since elementary school, and I kinda thought about an English major, but then was like, “Eww I don’t wanna be forced to read books I don’t give a shit about. And also, what will I do with that degree?”

Also, at the same time, I was working full time, and often getting stuck working from 2 pm to 7 am (Yes, 15-hour shifts, because the overnight dude would call in sick last minute and I’d be begged to cover his shift), and then dragging myself to classes and drooling on the desks because I’d fall asleep.

Also also, I started to have possible hallucinations? To this day I don’t know what was going on, but either I was legitimately going crazy, or there was a demon following me around and being quite rude to me, making light fixtures fall and shatter inches from my head, throwing papers around my room, opening and closing doors, turning lights off and on, coming to me in dreams and doing some really, really traumatic things to me in them, and just standing in corners staring at me at all hours of the night. Had me so scared that towards the end of the school year I was waiting to sleep until sunrise, when it would go away. And no, I was not using any mind-altering substances of any sort. Not even going out and getting drunk.

So, yeah. Year Two was a hard one that I can’t believe I pushed through. Probably the darkest year of my life, I’d say. What got me through it? An unhealthy amount of energy drinks, friends, and my love of Japanese. Also Aerosmith.

Do I still see that demon? No. He vanished when the school year ended and I moved out of the dorms. Do I believe in the supernatural? Yes, to an extent. Do I think that what I was seeing was actually a demon? I honestly don’t know. I have had actual supernatural experiences verified by multiple witnesses, and a few years before Year 2, several friends and myself had seen an entity similar to what was following me around. But this one in Year 2 only did things when I was alone. So it could have all been in my head, and I will never know.

Since then, I have been diagnosed with general anxiety and also a form of insomnia that keeps me from sleeping through the night, and I know that my anxiety manifests itself in psychosomatic ways. In other words, my mind will take my anxiety and turn it into a physical symptom that feels real in every way, but is actually not occurring. So far it’s manifested as: sensitivity to sunlight, the symptoms of a stroke or heart attack, half of my face going numb, and headaches in my left eye. Once I realize that the symptom is just my anxiety, I can force myself to ignore and overcome it. But then my anxiety finds a new form to manifest, and the cycle repeats a few months later. It could be that my stress caused me to see this demon for a while.

Should I have consulted a psychiatrist and gotten help? YEP. If you find yourself struggling like that, seek help please. 💕

Year 3: Adrift But Afloat

I moved out of the dorms and into an apartment with my best friend, a Japanese girl I met in the dorms freshman year. I will call her Setsuko. Setsuko is basically the reason I graduated uni. She memorized my class schedules and took copies of exam dates, woke me up, forced me to go classes instead of skipping, forced me to go to the library and study with her, and cooked me dinner most days since she didn’t have to work like I did. I can’t express enough how much she did to improve my life outside of school and work, and how much that improved my mental health. She also acclimated me to lots of subtle things about Japanese culture just by living with her, and this helped me later when I moved to Japan. Thank you, Setsuko. 一生の恩人。

I was still doing those bullshit 15-hour overnight shifts way more than I should have, and also had the maximum courseload.

The Japanese classes got a lot more difficult in Year 3. But I loved them. They were the only classes I never skipped. I took more classes towards the minor like Buddhist Philosophy and Japanese History, which I really enjoyed. While polishing off more gen eds, I thought over what to do with my major.

My family and friends all told me that I should become an English teacher. I had always been good at words and at explaining things. But I didn’t really like the idea of being a high school teacher. I became an English major, though, because I knew that I didn’t hate English. Took grammar classes and HOLY SHIT did I hit my stride.

I realized that I didn’t like English lit. I liked linguistics. So I focused heavily on all grammar and linguistics courses, taking the bare minimum of literature courses required for the major. My GPA improved substantially.

Yet I still was consumed with this nagging fear. It was Year 3 and I still had no fucking idea what I wanted to do when I graduated.

Year 4: Clarity At The 11th Hour

Urged on by my “Don’t you dare get one of those stupid arts degrees that won’t get you a paycheck” parents, I decided that the most “practical” degree would not be “English,” but “English Education.” I began taking the English Ed classes with linguistics, grammar, and second language acquisition classes. The goal was to become a qualified English high school teacher who could also do ESL (since I had Spanish and Japanese under my belt more or less).

At the same time, I entered into Independent Study for Japanese with two other students. We were tasked with reading Izu no Odoriko, a classic short story. Independent study was its own beast. It required a lot more concentration and work on my part, obviously. But because Japanese was my first and foremost passion, I centered my efforts on those courses, and then on the others.

The process of getting certified to be an English teacher was lengthy and expensive in my state. This meant my graduation would be further prolonged, and I was worried about money, because I was already about $50,000 in debt at the time, despite working those fucking overnight shifts all the time that were eating me alive.

Then, during the summer vacation when my 4th year ended, I got a scholarship and went to Japan to study abroad. Education majors had the option to study abroad in several countries, and as luck would have it, one of them was Japan, and it was Setsuko’s HOMETOWN! The study abroad program itself was the first month of summer vacation, and Setsuko said, “Okay, just come stay at my house for the rest of summer vacation!”

Never have I said “yes” quicker in my entire life.

On the train headed from Sapporo to the town where I would be actually staying during my studies, I looked at the lush rice paddies and mountains in the distance and my entire heart just hummed with this “This is where you’re meant to be.” I knew then and there that I would move to Japan upon graduation.

What would I do there? Well, teach English, obviously.

My three months in Japan effectively aligned my entire life. My path had materialized before me. It was a roughly hacked, hard-to-see path through thick underbrush, but I could see it nonetheless.

Year 5: Let’s Hurry It Up, I’m Ready To Live

Come Year 5, all of my Japanese classmates that had been with me since freshman year were gone and I was alone. My professor taught me Classical Japanese through independent study, and it was the must grueling course I took my entire five years there. But I found it invaluable and am eternally grateful to him for teaching me, because you see Classical Japanese a lot more than you’d think you would in everyday life. Particularly in formal settings.

I still wanted to get certified to teach English in American high schools, because while I knew I wanted to go to Japan for now, I didn’t know if I wanted to spend my entire life there and I wanted a solid job opportunity when I came back to the states at some point.

However, the more education courses I took, the more I saw that the American education system was just as full of red-tape and The Man’s bullshit as corporate America, something else I rebuke with every fiber of my being. I also realized I’d need to take a 6th year of university, and that just wasn’t financially feasible for me. So I switched to a plain old English major with a heavy focus on linguistics and second language acquisition, and continued classical Japanese.

I took the remaining 3 gen eds online in the summer, graduated, popped up to Chicago to do a month-long intensive course to get the CELTA (Certificate in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages issued by Cambridge.) It’s the most widely accepted and revered certification for teaching English as a foreign language.

So in the span of five years, I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in English with a focus in linguistics and SLA, and what is technically a major in Japanese Studies. 40 credit hours were required for a major, and I completed 42 credit hours tied to my minor, so while it isn’t listed on my diploma as a major, I did the coursework. I also got a CELTA Pass B, which only 20% of applicants achieve and never expires. The grand total for all of this was roughly $100,000 USD in loans.

Post-Graduation

The week I came back to my hometown from Chicago with my CELTA in hand, I packed my suitcases, threw a going-away party, and then flew to Sapporo, where I began my first job after uni, teaching English to children aged 0-18 at a private English conversation school. I did that for three years before changing careers and becoming a Japanese-English translator/interpreter for a global company.

So how useful have my choices during university proven to be?

I’m sure I don’t have to explain that studying Japanese helps me tons with translating Japanese to English or living in Japan lol

Studying English grammar, linguistics, sociolinguistics, and second language acquisition has allowed me to recognize minute nuances that can make the difference between a successful and unsuccessful business negotiation when interpretation is necessary.

My background in education also means that I know how to present information clearly, concisely, and in a way that engages the audience. I am known as “The PowerPoint Pro” at work lol.

I also have a keen eye for performance evaluation, behavior analysis, and improvement action plans.

I offered English conversation lessons to coworkers for over a year, and now that is being done in other branches across the company! (Well, they were before COVID haha.)

I DO NOT RECOMMEND WORKING THE HOURS I WORKED WHILE IN SCHOOL. My grades suffered and I wish I had worked less and focused more on classes. However, by working 15-hour shifts and doing full days of classes, I developed a very good tolerance for overtime, which comes in handy in the Japanese workplace. Just last month I had three 15 hour days in the same week. Sweet, sweet overtime pay.

All of these facets have culminated in me earning a pretty nice promotion to 正社員 seishain back in February, which means I get nice benefits and basically my job is guaranteed until I die or the company goes under.

Should I decide to return to America someday, I will probably not go into the education field. Too much red tape. I will likely continue translation/interpretation for companies, because it isn’t too difficult and pays well. Though ideally I’d love to just make a living sharing cool information about Japanese and stuff, and maybe writing those stories that are bouncing around in my head when I should be working haha.

Do I think the debt is worth it?

Well, I don’t think I had any other option than to take out those loans. I didn’t have the means to learn the things I wanted to learn unless I went to university.

Unless Japanese work visa requirements have changed, you are required to have a bachelor’s degree in order to obtain my sub-type of work-visa, so I needed a degree of some kind no matter what.

Frankly, if I hadn’t gone to that university and met my best friend Setsuko, I don’t think I’d be where I am right now, living the life I am now. So just having met her is worth any price to me.

Paying off all the loans is daunting, especially when yen is weak to the dollar. There were months I had to ask my parents for help, especially early on. But now I’ve got multiple loans paid off, my salary has increased, and the “omg i have money and no supervision so I can buy whatever I want” idiocy has mostly gone away. But I did get a super sweet pair of blindingly silver Converses a couple days ago that I definitely didn’t need

Do I have any regrets regarding my time at university?

I still regret dropping Old English for a stupid English Ed class. Seriously, how cool would that have been? But I still have the textbook, workbook, and I contacted the professor last week and she was kind enough to send me a syllabus. God bless her. So now I’m working on that bit by bit, which is fun.

I wish I hadn’t been such a cocky, naive idiot my first year. Thinking I could just “show up for tests” was the stupidest thing. It messed up my GPA, and my parents forbade me from retaking classes so I couldn’t go back and fix my mistakes. I think I graduated with a 3.4 overall GPA out of 4, but my English major GPA was 3.9 and my Japanese GPA was 4.0. So it’s pretty frustrating to have those gen eds and my dumbfuckery mar my transcript like that.

I really didn’t party at all. Most all of my friends were straight-laced Japanese exchange students, and I was also working ridiculous hours so I just didn’t really have the time. A part of me feels like I missed out on that part of the college experience.

Recently I’ve been putting more effort into improving my creative writing by reading a lot of books on the subject. Not a small part of me wishes that I had gone with a Creative Writing major instead of English major, because I still would have studied all the grammar and linguistics. Then again, I do believe that creative writing can be self-taught.

I wish I hadn’t worked as much as I did. There were a lot of times I couldn’t complete assignments or I missed lectures because I was just so drained. It wasn’t even good money.

Well...I did not intend for this post to become as long as it has. I’ve been cooped up in my apartment with nothing but two goldfish for company for over a month now and I think I’m a bit stir-crazy. Thank you to anyone and everyone who bothered to read all of this and become my therapist for a bit haha. Love you all. Stay safe and well. 💖

#study japanese #learn japanese #university #college #study tips #mental health #love you all #asks are open #stay well #noodle-of-sunshine #noel fielding #studyblr #college study tips #university struggles #college struggles #study english #study english education #study linguistics

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oliverhqs · 4 years

Text

✧ °˖ — ( casey deidrick. cis-male. he/him. ) looks like oliver carmichael just signed back in at the front desk. word around is, that they’re only staying at the northern star because his family took their annual family vacation to their manor and he decided this year he didn’t want to stay amongst his insufferable relatives for the duration of the trip, so he found somewhere much more relaxing to stay instead while he explores ireland by himself. apparently the twenty-seven year old can be a bit apathetic & opinionated. but their open-minded & relaxed personality usually makes up for it. i hear they like to play piano, paint, and read in their free time. it makes me think of them as a quiet mid-afternoon walk on the italian countryside, staying up throughout the entire night in a dimly lit room talking about books, philosophy, love, and the stars, & well loved sheet music sprawled all over the floor and desk.

hello potential, friends !! i’m late the to party as usual but this ball of anxiety goes by the name of rue ( she/her pronouns ) and i’ll be playing Angsty Boi™, oliver carmichael. if you would like to hit me up for plots / scream about connections all night long, please give this a big ole like and i’ll come bouncing like a happy ferret in the snow to your DMs !! under the cut, you’ll find a brief biography and stats about oli’s life. you can find all my connections here though if you want to check those out. can’t wait to start interacting !!

+ disclaimer: slight talks of cancer and mental health are mentioned below. read at your discretion.

layer one: the stats.

NAME. oliver alexander carmichael.

ALIAS. people usually just call him by oliver but sometimes oli makes an appearance.

TITLE. over time, he has proudly deemed himself an obsessive pizza addict, artistic nutcase, or one of the missing dead poets society members.

AGE. twenty-seven years old.

GENDER IDENTITY. cis-male.

PRONOUNS. he/him.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. predominately panromantic demisexual. it isn’t so much so that luca is completely disinterested in sex (he’s got a perfectly good libido, thank you very much), he just doesn’t find himself sexually attracted to people based on physical appearance or initial impressions. instead he finds personality, intellect, and existing emotional attachment considerably more compelling. the idea of intimacy with somebody he’s not close with rather repulses him.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. he currently lives in east village in new york but he travels quite often for his job, so residency usually fluctuates depending on how long he stays there.

BIRTHPLACE. new york city, new york.

NATIONALITY. american.

RELIGION. he was raised roman catholic but converted to spiritual agnosticism when he was eighteen. he views that universal ethics and love are far more important than claims about any deity and trivialize the arguments supporting or rejecting such claims. to oliver, it doesn’t matter which religion someone might follow, nor does it matter whether or not someone believes in God. what matters is what someone does, not what they believe. he has his parents’ full support in his switch even though the rest of his family practices catholism.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES. english (fluent/main), french (fluent/2nd main), italian (still learning but can understand it quite well).

EDUCATION. graduated with a bachelors in music therapy and minor in visual arts at brown university.

PROFESSION. works as a freelancing artist in his spare time as he work full time as a music therapist.

layer two: about.

When someone hears the name Carmichael, they automatically think of words like prestigious, wealthy, and perfect. And who wouldn’t? With the father being a State’s Attorney and mother owning her own real estate business, you had to think like that. In the public eye the Carmichael family was flawless. Lilian was the always supporting wife who thrived in raising money for fundraisers and showing off her cooking skills and David was being a husband who brought home piles of money and was devoted to his family. Everyone wanted what they had. Oliver Carmichael was born into a world where perfection was of the utmost importance. The Carmichael family are one of those prestigious families that has always been full of wealthy and high-class snobs, and Oliver’s parents were no exception. He grew up learning how to be charming and handsome, and aware of his superiority over those of inferior to him. Oliver’s childhood years consisted of him sitting restless at various fancy parties and dinners, while his father kept him from all the treats so that he would grow up to be fit and strong. Oliver’s father was always cold and emotionally isolated from him; only after a perfect son to show off to the world.

He has a brother, who is three years younger than him, named Nathaniel. His relationship with his brother, however, is a bit estranged just like with their father. As much as he loves his brother and wishes they could see eye-to-eye, sometimes they tend to butt heads often. Whether that might mean your typical sibling arguments or full-on blown out fights, they just can’t seem to see get along.

As a young, restless little child, Oliver sought escape from his shallow, chilly life in the form of a friend. His friend taught him that there was such thing as warmth and friendliness, told him lots of stories of Greek mythology, and he learned that his father had been lying about “tactless individuals” being horrible people. However, when his father found out about his associations with his friend, within a week, the boy mysteriously disappeared. Since then, Oliver kept all his unapproved-of friends to himself. Unfortunately, as time went on, Oliver grew up to become a lot colder and more isolated like his father—leaving the feeling of pure joy of meeting that friend he met long ago, had vanished. With his family situation being completely dysfunctional and rottenly horrible, he never experienced what being happy was all about.

Sometimes calling someone selfish is a gross exaggeration, but in Oliver’s case its right on-point. Eventually in his early teens he became distracted, always preoccupied with his own affairs and matters of interest. Whether it was schoolwork, his multiple and usually explosive relationships, or his many existential crises, Oliver was one for waving people away and turning the conversation back on himself. This wasn’t necessary out of narcissism or some hidden agenda: Oliver genuinely doesn’t know who he is. Perpetually fidgeting and restless, it’s not uncommon to see him rapidly flicking a cigarette lighter, or playing with his hair, or bouncing on the balls of his feet. In high school he’s brilliant: it’s that simple. He is the golden boy. Prone to spilling into intellectual spiels - and labelled a know-it-all - he internalized everything, memorizing tiny details, eyes skipping here and there. His intelligence is among his most useful traits and is by far the thing he values most about himself. Much of his ego is built around the confidence that he is effortlessly smarter than almost anybody he encounters. Knowledge is power, and he weaponizes his superior intellect, using his brains more than brawn to protect himself and intimidate the people he doesn’t care for.

Although his parents were the bane of his experience 100% of the time, his mother wasn’t all that insufferable when she had her moments away from his father and not trying to be this pristine ‘perfect’ woman beside her husband. In fact, throughout his childhood she often encouraged Oliver’s belief in extraordinary things and hoped he had carried it throughout his life growing up. His mother had always made him promise to have courage and be kind to others, for—as she explained to him—kindness has power, and that she would see him through all the trials that life could offer, in life and death. Cancer/mental illness TW—when he was thirteen, his mother had been diagnosed with cervical cancer. Upon hearing the news, Oliver’s whole world clasped.

Not only was he at a pivotal stage in his life where everything was changing and becoming more stressful ( becoming a teenager, starting high school, going through puberty ), the only important person who had actually showed him any kind of love in his life had be claimed by the deadly disease altogether. So many thoughts and feelings were going through his mind at the time, that he ran himself physically sick and had experienced his first panic attack. He has since been medically diagnosed with panic disorder. Thankfully the cells on his mother’s cervix were diagnosed at precancerous stage and the doctors were able to treat it because it developed and spread. However, that didn’t and doesn’t stop Oliver from being in a constantly state of panic every time his mother so much as feels pain or coughs due to irrelevant reasons. The entire year had changed him and his family for a while.

Despite issues with his own family, Oliver has a lot of personal of his own he deals with. He is capable of enduing tremendous hardship. Though he may not handle difficulty in the healthiest or best way, often repressing emotion, he mostly like emerges on the other side. He doesn’t know how to express his emotions in a diplomatic way, but rather fumbles it all up and starts to ramble. Rarely opens up because of this. He usually distracts himself from his insufferable emotions with hobbies such as playing the piano, painting, and reading some of his favorite classics. After he moved out the house at eighteen to pursue college and became more independent, he started to come into his own style with his wardrobe. To put it simple, he’s like a hippie dippy child of the universe. No joke. No seriously, his place at home is full of sensual shit and art. It’s getting out of hand and somebody needs stop him soon. He strongly believes that art is an umbrella term that relates to expressing of oneself—not just through photography and painting—and that everyone has the freedom to express themselves however they please. Because of his beliefs, he chooses to break gender roles like bread and wears whatever the fuck he wants because yolo. His appearance pretty much represents his hippie dippy lifestyle with him wearing all sorts of hipster shit. His clothes can be very flowy like, but don’t let that fool you. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to represent his upper class within his style, so he does dress to impress, let me tell you. His hair color changes sometimes too depending on his mood but it’s generally never too eccentric.

After he graduated high school, he furthered his education at Brown University where he majored in Music Therapy and minored in Visual Arts. At the age of twenty-one he graduated and about 6 months later started working as a freelanced artist while working at children’s hospital as a music therapist.

#northernstarintro

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purelafemme · 4 years

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Mid 2020 reflections

The older I grow, the more important I realize it is to extend myself grace, and to practice patience. All the pieces of my life will come together. This pandemic has taught me to be still.

A few days ago I woke up in a grumpy mood. Over the last few months, some days will go by and I will feel fine. Others, not too hot. Recently, I decided to practice a tip from one of the former therapists. I took the time to “check in” with myself and pinpoint all the reasons I was feeling so out of tune.

A big reason for this “out-of-tuneness” is coming from my job. I don’t feel as connected and engaged to my work, as I would imagine it would be if we were in the office. Its difficult for me to focus and relax in my room. All my life I have struggled with performance anxiety, which has become heightened due to my experience in the AEA program. Teleworking has blurred the lines between my home life and my work life, making it difficult for my brain to separate the two. Also, I feel cramped and restricted due to the lack of independence and freedom I am experiencing living in my parents house. I miss my freedom and independence of living in my own apartment. I’m going to stay here until January to try and save more money (at least $8,000). Just like I felt with Morgan back in fall of 2017, I can feel that I have outgrown living in my parents house and living in Baltimore. It’s time for a new beginning and a fresh start. I don’t want the pandemic to prevent me from pushing back my plans further, or allow it to cause time to get away from me. It’s important that I take this step towards moving out for me.

A second reason propelling my dismay comes from a realization that I had realized over the past weekend. I have a strong tendency to over give in a lot of the relationships I have. I went out of my way to plan something to do with my estranged friendship group from middle school, and I am not too pleased with how it went. In Boston, I didn’t have many friends nor did I engage in many social activities. One of the reasons I wanted to return back to this area is so I could hang out with my friends and resume social activities again. Earlier this summer, I started putting a lot of energy into hanging out and doing things with and for my friends. But after these two-three years of me being away, I’ve realized that some of my friend groups/dynamics are not the same. Honestly, I feel like a big part of the reason why I started hanging out a lot with my friends is because since my love life is not going the way that I want it to, I want to keep people around me a lot to avoid feeling lonely, to mask the loneliness. But I want to shed those feelings and really take the time to get into myself. One of the reasons I delayed grad school was because I really wanted to take space for myself to develop myself (Develop myself spiritually, mentally--develop my fashion, my interests, my personality, knowledge). This has made me realize that I want and need to feel more comfortable being alone, which is another reason why I think living alone would be good for my personal growth. Additionally, even though things didn't work out the way I intended them to with my partner earlier this Spring, that situation has finally taught me, after 24 years of age (8 years of dating), how I deserve to be treated and what qualities I want in a partner. Given this, I think I need to now branch out and truly get comfortable with being alone. Over the last couple of years, I have struggled with being alone and I realized that I will go run to go hang out with people to avoid that feeling, or I will spend my time being alone and wishing I laid up with a nigga. I want to truly embrace the idea of just truly being alone, and being happy and content.

Sometimes I experience a weird sadness about me not following through with my previous academic plans, which causes me to feel like im a funk. I went to research conference today where my peers who have continued with their academic plans were present, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge bit of sad that I didn't continue mine. This month would have been the month I would be starting my PhD program if everything had went as planned. Although I realized this was not right for me, I am still kind of bummed in a weird way about it. I worked exceedingly hard and invested a lot of time and energy into this goal, and now that things haven't gone as planned and I have seemingly abandoned my PhD dreams, I feel a weird sense of sadness about it. I may be still interested in research, but honestly, I am not sure. From doing the AEA program twice, witnessing the AEA Climate Survey, surviving the Harvard program, and reading Claudia’s blog post, I feel kind an overwhelming sense of jadedness by this whole thing-- and now I cannot seem to make up my mind about an exact alternative career path or graduate degree. All I know is that I would really like to have a concrete plan once this job is over, because I am not getting any younger and I want to have security when it comes to my career goals by the time I approach my mid thirties.

Now that I have just written a list of reasons why I am in a funk because I am not where I wanna be, I want to take just as much time to reflect on all the reasons why I am proud of myself. I am very proud of myself for landing my current job opportunity. It took me over six months of applying to land my current position, and there was several times over the course of those months where I was bogged down with anxiety and self-doubt crept it! Literally the day I got the offer, I was laying in bed CRYING because it was April and my program was going to end in May and I hadn't secured a reasonable opportunity yet. My God is good, and he for sure came right on time. Of course, there are some days where my performance anxiety at work is on high, but really in those moments need to take a step back and praise him for granting me the opportunity to get a job in my field, with a nice salary, with nice people and meaningful, clear growth opportunities. I am so grateful, and I need to acknowledge this more as well as congratulate myself for this. Even though things didn’t go as planned with the whole PhD thing, I am EXACTLY where God wants me to be in my life, and that is a beautiful thing. I am proud of where I am, and I know this opportunity will give me the tools to make the best career decision for me moving forward. I am claiming it now. Honestly, this is my first time since I graduated undergrad where I feel like I can breathe.

I am also proud of myself for giving myself the space to develop ME for ME. There is so much other parts of life and myself that I want to explore, and now that I am no longer suffocated by the pressures of academia, I am excited to dive in ! I recently hired a trainer, and started my own business! Being in grad school is a huge educational investment that comes at a cost. The stress of that program didn't leave time for me to dedicate to other parts of my life, which I realized I did not like. My twenties are my formative years. So yeah, it does suck to have invested so much time in doing all those things to be a perfect PhD applicant and then to not even apply to PhD programs lol, but I am soo proud of myself for listening to my gut, taking a step out on faith and choosing a different direction! It wasn't an easy decision at first, but I am excited about where this side business will take me, and I am happy that this will be a chance for me to explore my artistic side more! I have always had this side to myself, but never fully dived into it because of the lack of time and resources. So I am proud of using this space and time to unlock a new side of myself. I also think there will be a lot of personal growth opportunities that will come from being a small business owner, which I have confidence I can tackle and that it will make me more mature, and help develop sounder financial practices ! :)

I am super proud of myself for taking charge of my health!!! My weight is something I have always struggled with since elementary school. I was never particularly fat, but I was never as skinny as people like my sister and my cousins. From a young age, I internalized a sense of being uncomfortable with my body, which has followed me into adulthood. However it wasn't until the later half of high school when I started to develop some health problems as a result of my poor diet and lifestyle habits. My period has been irregular since 2012-2013, which I am sure was triggered by the anxiety I faced from switching schools, eating predominantly restaurant food from working at Charlestown, and having a poor sleeping schedule. After four years or random, scattered periods, I got diagnosed with PCOS in 2016. In 2017 I turned 21. I started drinking alcohol a lot more, causing me that fall to weigh in at my biggest size ever--over 180 pounds. Since the middle of high school, my weight had always been in the 160-170s range. That spring, I was able to get serious about diet and exercise and shed some pounds due to my leave from school. However, over the past two years in the Harvard program, I have not been able to manage my weight properly, causing me to explode to the biggest size I have ever been--195.. And im not sure what’s going on with my hormone production now, but I know my gut is a hot mess. (This spring I just got diagnosed with IBS.) Since the pandemic started, I have tried to work out consistently and eat a balanced diet. However over the last five months I have not seen many changes in my body which has been disappointing. This week on impulse, I made the decision to hire a trainer-- this is going to be the first step towards making some serious lifestyle changes for me and I am excited to get into the best physical shape I have ever been in! Regardless of the number on the scale, I really want to do this for the improvement of my overall health. I want to develop a healthier relationship with food (stop binge eating/seeking food as comfort) and I also want to train myself to not only eat out of boredom, or because food is available. I know developing this habits will help me develop more discipline! Also, I think our bodies as humans are capable of so much, and I really want to treat my body good so I can get the best use out of it ! I want to learn how to swim, I want to build endurance and start running, I want to be able to sustain my own body weight, and become proficient at aerial yoga! Also, sometime in the future I want to have kids and before this happens I want to already be in shape and be in the position to have a happy and healthy pregnancy. Being a mother is one of my biggest aspirations in my life ! I am hoping that this change to my lifestyle will support better hormonal health and regulate my menstrual cycle, which would actually help me get pregnant easier in the future. I am also tired of having all these stomach problems (indigestion, acid reflux, constipation, etc)--clearly something inside of me is inflamed and thats why I am having these issues. Overall, I am very proud of myself in taking these actions and I am excited to see how my body will look, how I will feel, and in what ways I can grow mentally and financially with my business !

One last reason why I am proud of myself is because I have been making small strides to become more money conscious. However, I know I can definitely improve in this area over the next couple of months, and it is important that I tackle this since I have my first real job, (plus a side business) and I want to live on my own. I have always struggled with managing my personal finances, so I am excited to learn tips and develop practices that will help me be smarter with my money. This is also very important to me because one day I would like to have a family, and I want to be able to provide for them. So it is important that I take the steps now to ensure that I am living below my means, and that I can set myself up to be financially comfortable and not cash strapped.

I was inspired to write this post because I woke up one day in a sour mood about my current circumstances and the fact that I am seemingly not where I want to be and I felt down about it. But then I woke up the next day and realized how much I really had to be grateful for, and how proud I am of myself for all that I have accomplished throughout my life even with various obstacles I have encountered. God truly has favored me. Even through this crisis, God has found ways to bless me and I have taken actions to better myself. For that I am super thankful for. There are people that have lost their life and their livelihoods in 2020, but for some reason God still choose me to protect, and to take me to the next level. So I want to take this time to publicly thank him for all that he has done on the inside! Instead of focusing on the all the areas of my life that I am not too satisfied with, I vow to constantly cultivate a heart, mind and spirit full of gratitude and praise.

Other short term goals I want to accomplish

- Join a church home/integrate other practices into my life to develop my relationship with him in addition to keeping the prayer journal (reading the bible, starting a gratitude book)

- Take better care of my hair: be more consistent with protective styles, trims, and deep conditioning!

- Read more books (I have watched too much TV this year lol) I especially want to read more books written by Black women and the experience of Black women!

-Try new hobbies (in addition to swimming, I want to go horseback riding, etc)

#2020reflections personalgrowth blessings

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justheretobreakthings · 5 years

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Welcome to the Family - Chapter 6

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Word Count: 3,049 (Total Word Count: 15,010) Read on AO3

Story Summary: Lance had been excited about his family taking in a foster kid, eager to get to meet his brand new little brother or sister, who would surely adore and idolize their super cool Big Brother Lance. What he got instead was a sullen, quiet, temperamental teenage housemate with a criminal record and a disastrous haircut.

The days leading up to the beginning of the school year were both too long and not long enough. Too long because there wasn’t a whole lot for Keith to occupy his time with. That was, admittedly, at least a little his own fault, as he spent the vast majority of his time in his room rather than downstairs where things were actually happening.

But it was easier on him this way. The TV in the front room was usually taken, and he didn’t want to interfere with anyone else’s use. Even when it wasn’t, the room was right there adjacent to the stairs and the basement entrance and the front door, all which were constantly trafficked. No way would he be able to relax amidst all that. And there was a family computer in the basement, but it faced outward into the room at large, and Keith hated the feeling of people looking over his shoulder while he was online, no matter how innocuous his browsing may be. Besides, Rachel had brought her trumpet home from summer band on Friday to practice it over the weekend, and the basement was her prefered practice space, so that was.

Tania, after noticing just how much time Keith spent hibernating in his room, had ordered a small used television for it online - despite Keith’s insistence that it wasn’t necessary, and hadn’t she already blown enough money on him over the past few days anyway - but they still had to wait for the delivery.

So the meantime was whiled away by re-reading his books and cautiously trying out the art supplies Tania had bought him for school. He didn’t think much of his artistic abilities, but it was one of the only creative outlets suggested by past therapists and social workers that actually clicked with him. He wouldn’t normally have asked his foster family for supplies, but Altea High required every student to take at least one year of a fine arts elective, so registering for art class had actually been a reason to need them.

The days were not long enough, though, in that, in spite of the way time had dragged, Keith still hadn’t managed to properly make himself feel ready to return to school by the time Monday morning rolled around. He woke early in the morning to a knocking at his door and Manuel’s voice telling him it was time to get up, and went downstairs to an unusually elaborate first-day-of-school breakfast, which Lance and Rachel both ate rather robotically, still adjusting to the waking world after a summer of sleeping in.

He threw on his clothes for the day - some dark gray jeans and a short-sleeved flannel that had formerly been Marco’s and which, to Keith’s surprise, had actually fit him pretty much perfectly, and were in better shape than most of Keith’s own clothes anyhow - and managed to get to the bathroom to finish his morning routine before Lance got to it. He had already managed to learn just how elaborate Lance’s ablutions were, and true to form, he kept Keith and Rachel waiting impatiently downstairs for twenty minutes in order to get his hair and face ‘perfect’. Even though when he finally was satisfied and came to join them, Keith could swear Lance looked exactly the same as he always did.

Rachel led the way out the door, slipping into the driver’s seat of an old scratched-up LeSabre parked at the curb. “You can take shotgun if you want,” she said to Lance as he opened the door of the seat behind her.

“God, no thanks,” Lance said. “I’ve seen you drive. I’m sitting where I’m most likely to survive when you inevitably crash us headlong into the auditorium.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. Keith will sit up front with me, right, Keith?”

“Uh, sure,” Keith said, opening the door and carefully sliding into the seat.

“Do what you want,” Lance said. “But don’t be surprised if you’re the first to go.”

“Shut up, Lance,” Rachel said as she turned the key in the ignition. She shifted the car into drive and started down the road.

“Tell Keith how many tries it took you to pass your driving test.”

“I passed it eventually, it doesn’t matter.”

“Five tries. And on the third try she ran over a - ”

Rachel cut him off by speeding up and then braking hard at the stop sign on the corner, sending Keith lurching forward and Lance’s face knocking into her headrest. “Oops,” she said flatly. “Sorry, Lance, guess I’m just a bad driver.”

“Vete a la mierda,” Lance muttered, rubbing his forehead with a scowl.

“I’m telling Mamá you’re teaching Keith bad words,” said Rachel.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Keith managed to tune them out not long into the drive. He pulled his feet onto the seat and his knees up to his chest, letting all his focus drift to the buildings and trees and street signs they passed as he stared out the car window, trying to familiarize himself with the new surroundings, look out for landmarks that would make the route easier to remember if he needed to walk to or from school any time soon. Occasionally certain foster families of the past would forget to take him to school or pick him up. Or maybe do so intentionally. He could never be certain.

Lance and Rachel managed to keep up their light bickering all the way up until they pulled into the student parking lot, where Rachel had to try twice to park between the lines of her selected parking space, to Lance’s amusement. Despite Lance’s elaborate morning routine, it seemed they had still managed to arrive at school earlier than most, since the majority of the parking spaces were still empty. That was good. Keith still needed to stop by the front office to pick up his finalized schedule, and the last thing he needed was for that to make him late on the first day of school.

He parted ways from the McClains at the entrance, where they set off to their lockers and Keith to the front office. It was fairly crowded when he entered, students and a few parents trying to get some last-minute arrangements made before classes began. Keith hovered near the doorway, not wanting to barge past anyone or draw undue attention to himself by going to the receptionist.

In the midst of debating how he was going to go about asking for his schedule, his thoughts were interrupted by his name being called. The door to the guidance counselor’s office, adjacent to the front office, had been flung open, and Mr. Smythe stood in the entryway, waving him over.

Keith let out a breath and hurried over. Mr. Smythe was a recognizable presence, if a rather overwhelming one. He was a difficult person to forget, between the shock of bright orange hair on his head to the elaborate matching mustache, from his shoulderpadded blazer to his distinct accent. He’d certainly left an impression when Keith and Tania had met with him a few days prior.

“Keith, my boy, good to see you again!” Mr. Smythe said, beckoning him toward the office. “Come in, come in, I was just about to get your schedule printed up for you.” Keith followed him into the little office silently. He wasn’t sure how long this would take, so he opted to keep standing rather than take a seat in one of the chairs along the wall by the door.

“Now,” Mr. Smythe said, plopping himself into his own chair and turning to his computer screen. “I fit you into the art elective you wanted and made room for you in one of the Spanish 1 classes that fit the rest of your schedule. We also managed to get a gym uniform in for you in your size in time for you to be able to participate in your Phys. Ed. class today, so you can let Señora McClain know she needn’t worry about that.”

“Okay,” Keith said.

The printer on Mr. Smythe’s desk whirred as the counselor swiveled his chair to face Keith directly. “Regarding your core classes,” he continued. “For most of them we’ve decided to go ahead and place you in the standard sophomore level courses. I understand that there may be a few concepts from freshman courses that may need to be reviewed for you, but I’ve given your teachers fair warning ahead of time, so they’re aware that you may need a little bit of one-on-one assistance. Don’t be afraid to ask for it. I’ve also gone ahead and gotten you signed up for peer tutoring during your study hall block, so that could be a means to help you catch up.”

“Oh.” Keith’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his gaze. The whole situation was embarrassing, him being as far behind in school as he was. He knew he wasn’t stupid - despite what certain foster family members or classmates had told him in the past - but between constantly switching schools, his discipline record, assignments and books gone missing, the absolute joke of ‘education’ that the juvenile center had stuck him with all through last school year, and a decade of intense stress as the icing on the cake, well… he was probably lucky that his grades weren’t even worse.

“The only class that we couldn’t put you in sophomore level for was your Mathematics requirement,” Mr. Smythe was continuing, and Keith shook himself back into the present. “Seeing as the syllabus is much more linear than your other core classes. We’ve placed you in Algebra 1. However, if you put some elbow grease into your studies, Ms. Ryner has said that she would be happy to work with you to map out an independent study curriculum to get you back on track. If you go that route, you can have Pre-Calculus finished by graduation, same as the majority of your classmates. Of course, only Algebra 2 is a required credit for graduation, but colleges will be looking for - ”

“The regular track is fine, Mr. Smythe,” Keith said, immediately wincing afterward when he realized he had just interrupted.

Mr. Smythe, fortunately, didn’t seem to take offense at the interruption, and instead simply gave him a brief nod before pulling the schedule out of the printer tray and handing it to him. “Well, the option is available all this semester in case you change your mind. We’ll be happy to make accommodations.”

“Thanks,” Keith grunted. He accepted the paper and scanned the schedule.

“And Keith?”

“Mm?”

“That doesn’t just apply to classes.” Keith looked back up from the schedule to find Mr. Smythe’s gaze fixed firmly on him, intense and sincere. “If you are having any difficulties adjusting here, any concerns, or if you just need someone to talk to. My job isn’t just schedule planning and test prep, you know.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Why… are you telling me that?”

Mr. Smythe shrugged. “Thought I’d make the offer. It’s never easy for a new student to transition, and I know you have a bit of a, ah, colorful history in school settings - ”

“Who told you that?” Keith snapped.

“Your transcripts,” Mr. Smythe replied simply.

“... Oh.”

“Of course, it’s entirely up to you if you want to meet with me or not,” Mr. Smythe continued. “Señora McClain did inquire about it, but doesn’t want to force anything. Just be aware, my door is always open.” He leaned back in his chair and swiveled his gaze to his computer. “Feel free to run along, now, Keith. Wouldn’t want to make you late for your first class.”

“Um, right,” Keith said, hesitating only a moment before backing out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

His next stop was his locker, and thankfully he remembered where that was from the school tour he’d been given last week, and it was close, only two halls down from the administrative wing. The hallway was crowded when he got there, and he clung to the straps of his backpack tightly as he wove his way through the mass of students and to his locker.

He hung his backpack onto the hook and grabbed some supplies for his morning classes. Biology was the first listed on the sheet that Mr. Smythe had given him, located in room 224, which was… he wasn’t sure where. It was a lot to remember after only a single tour.

Biting his lip, he looked around the crowd of students. Lockers were grouped by year, so this hallway should be full of sophomores, which hopefully meant that a familiar face was nearby. After a few moments of scanning, he spotted an orange headband poking up from the crowd, taller than most of the other students around, and he set off in that direction. He recognized that headband, he was pretty sure, and the odds of another student in the same school having that same particular taste in hair accessories seemed slim.

Sure enough, the boy with the headband was the same as the one who had been visiting the house the other day, and Lance was with him, chatting idly while leaning up against a nearby locker, the girl who’d been with them there as well, standing with her arms wrapped around a bright green trapper keeper.

The boy - Keith couldn’t quite recall his name; Hank, maybe? - noticed his approach, and greeted him with a smile and a wave, that got the others’ attention and had them turning to him as well. “Hey Keith!” he said brightly.

“Hey...” Keith said in return.

“Hunk,” the boy supplied. Oh, well, he had been close.

“Right.” He cleared his throat and held up his schedule to the others. “Do, um, do you guys know - could one of you show me - um, room 224?”

“Here, lemme see that,” Lance said, snatching the schedule out of Keith’s hand to examine. “Huh, same bio class as me, so you can just follow me there. Same lunch blocks too, looks like. And English, and computer science… and gym…” He raised a brow at Keith. “You stalking me, man? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but - ”

“I’m not stalking you,” Keith said, glaring as he grabbed his schedule back from him. “I didn’t pick the schedule.”

“Relax, I’m joking. Just making sure you’re aware how blessed you are to have me in so many of your classes.”

“I see we’re playing fast and loose with the definition of the word ‘blessed’ this morning,” the girl remarked, and for the life of him Keith couldn’t remember what her name was.

“Pidge here is just jealous of you,” Lance said to Keith. Pidge, then. Keith repeated it in his head a few times to commit it to memory.

“I am jealous of no one,” Pidge said. “I’ve got most of my classes with Hunk, so if anyone should be jealous, it’s you.”

“Aww, Pidge,” Hunk said with a smile. “That’s sweet of you to - wait, what do you want?”

“Your cookie at lunch.”

“No.”

“Then I take back my compliment.”

“All right, well,” Lance straightened up from the row of lockers and stretched. “Come on Keith, I’ll show you where Biology. Let’s give these two some privacy to get their flirt on.”

He made a gesture to follow as he stepped away, as Hunk let out an indignant squawk and Pidge stuck her tongue out at him. Keith hurried to fall into place next to him. “Wait, those two are dating?” he asked.

Lance smirked. “Heh, nah, they just get annoyed when I say they are. So, of course, I say it all the time. Why, you looking to get together with one of them? Because I gotta tell you, I don’t think you’re either of their type - for a number of reasons.”

Keith grimaced and shook his head. “No, I don’t date.”

“Huh,” said Lance. “Guess I’ll have to tell Pidge she was right.”

“What?”

“Here we are,” Lance said, dropping the subject abruptly and gesturing grandly into the doorway of a classroom. “Welcome to the Joy of Biology.”

He moved toward the back to plop into an empty desk, and Keith followed along behind him, staring straight ahead and watching the other students in the corners of his vision. Cautiously he edged toward the desk beside Lance’s. “So, do we just sit anywhere, or - ?”

He paused when he realized that Lance was already striking up a conversation with the occupant of his other desk neighbor, a girl with wire-frame glasses and a thick black ponytail. Deciding not to disturb them, Keith slid silently into the open desk, setting his notebook and folder on the desk’s surface and opting to simply remain quiet until class began.

The teacher, Mrs. Montgomery, arrived right before the bell rang and the students who were still standing as they chatted amongst themselves, presumably catching up after the summer break, hastened into the empty desks that remained. She thankfully didn’t try any sort of first day of school look-what-a-cool-teacher-I-am opening stunt, and instead opened the class fairly dully, dropping a stack of syllabi onto one of the desks in the front row for the students to pass around and returning to the front podium to read out the roll call.

It wasn’t exactly a big social occasion or anything worse being nervous over, but he still rehearsed saying ‘here’ in his head a dozen times over so that he was prepared when she called his name. “Kogane, Keith.”

“Here,” he replied.

He may have messed it up somehow anyway, though, because a kid sitting two desks away jumped in his seat and whipped his head around at the sound of Keith’s voice to look him up and down. He had floppy brown bangs and a sharply angled face, and the moment his gaze met Keith’s, his eyes widened and he quickly turned away again.

Keith narrowed his eyes at the back of the kid’s head. Something about his face struck him as vaguely familiar, just a twinge of recognition in his gut. He wracked his mind, but he couldn’t place it, and he reluctantly let the matter drop from his thoughts when the teacher finished with roll call and started passing out the textbooks.

#vldgen #vld fic #voltron fic #keith #lance #my writing #fic: welcome to the family

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academiceve · 5 years

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Intern Archives: Clinical Psychology Internship

Welcome to a mini-series of blog posts titled “Intern Archives” where I will be sharing in greater detailed about all of my internship experiences so far! I was requested to write about my internships on Instagram during a Q&A session, so follow me for more frequent updates HERE.

This is my 2nd post in the series about my clinical psychology internship at a psychiatric hospital. I completed this internship during the last semester of my undergraduate studies, just before graduating with a BA in Psychology. This was my first field related internship and overall I had a very positive experience!

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

My undergraduate psychology studies required me to complete two practicums (or internships). The first we did during our 2nd year of studies and the aim of this course was to expose students to a variety of settings in which psychologically-oriented activities take place. We were supposed to explore and gain a better understanding of the types of work done by psychologists and other professionals in related fields. Therefore, we did a lot of site visits.

The second part of the course is at the end of your last year of studies and required us to complete a 4 month internship. We needed to have a supervisor and gain experience by applying theoretical knowledge to practice. Additionally, the course contained of seminars with a focus on self-understanding and professional development.

I was interested in Clinical Psychology for a while but I didn’t have a good understanding of this subfield; therefore, before beginning this course I knew that I would either like to gain research experience (which was not possible at the time) or in clinical psychology. These internships were set up for us by the course coordinators and the personal contacts within their network, which meant that my fellow students completed internships in other places, such as schools or social service agencies, etc. I ended up being selected to complete my internship at a local psychiatric care facility. It was an hour away from my hometown and I commuted to my internship with another student from my class by car.

I was interning at a psychosocial ward, which mostly consisted of hospitalised patients suffering from addiction disorders, namely alcoholism. However, I also encountered patients suffering from depression disorders, as well as other psychiatric conditions. The cases varied and I got to see a lot of different conditions in person.

MY TASKS

Because I was a bachelor’s student, the head of the ward was our main supervisor but we shadowed different psychologists and mostly observed their work. I was a co-therapist in group psychotherapy but also observed and sometimes practiced individual therapy sessions, group rehabilitation sessions with social workers, group mindfulness sessions, occupational therapy (ergotherapy), as well as psychological assessments and case evaluations for discharge.

Our role was supposed to be mainly observational but because of our enthusiasm and showed interest to learn as much as possible during our internship, they allowed us to practice some things under strict supervision. The patients were not harmed by our presence and I think this is important to mention because such internships are not easy to come by.

WHAT I WAS ABLE TO LEARN

The previous semester of my senior year I took a clinical psychology course and was surprised with what I learned, as it was quite different to what I had imagined this subfield to be. I always linked clinical psychology with psychiatry and patient care but during this course I learned that most therapists obtain degrees in clinical psychology. I was not interested in therapy/counselling; therefore, this internship experience was important when it came to making the decision of whether I should continue my studies in clinical psychology or switch to neuroscience. I ended up switching to Neuroscience research in the end and you can read about it in more detail HERE.

This internship experience allowed me to understand that I was not interested in being a therapist/counsellor and that my attraction was the current research of clinical psychology, rather than practice. However, I am grateful for this experience because it allowed me to see various mental disorders in person, it’s different symptoms and forms of morbidity, as well as treatment options available at such hospitals. For example, group therapy sessions would often be very exhausting and emotionally challenging to complete but I feel extremely privileged to have had such an experience!

I hope you enjoyed the first reflection on one of my psychology/neuroscience field related internships! I will continue to write these, as I hope that at least some of you will find these posts to be useful!

I have written other blog posts about internships, which you can find here:

Finding Internships: General Tips

How to Find a Research Internship

Day In My Life: Internship Edition

Intern Archives: My 1st Creative Internship (Event Planning)

If you would like to read more from me, click HERE to see other blog posts! You can also follow my studygram HERE for some inspiration!

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rewrite-the-wrongs · 4 years

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introductions / howdy, pardner

My first short story was about a fishboy and his human best friend. They battled a mutant piranha (whose name I think may have been Mutant Piranha, such was the monumental daring of my creative endeavor) and his army, who were out to destroy a mountain that held a whole planet together. The boys won singlehandedly, because scale was apparently a bit of a mystery to me.

This was the second grade. My teacher--who held me every day as I cried for weeks, confused and miserable and stranded in the throes of my parents’ divorce--understood before I did that I create to a ploddingly slow and steady drumbeat. A sentence is always so much more in my head than I’m able to let out, at first; I have to pore over it again and again, fleshing and flourishing (and often correcting) it, the same way I often have to reread paragraphs or pages or whole books to truly capture their meaning. In a word processor, this back-and-forth is as easily said as it is done; on double-wide ruled paper with dashed-line handwriting guides, the task is magnitudes more time-consuming, especially for somebody as messy as I am. So, while nearly everybody else played at recess on the sandlot and the jungle gym around us, a select few stragglers laid our reading folders on our laps and finished our stories.

My villain, that dastardly Mutant Piranha, found himself in prison at the story’s close. Awaiting trial, I guess; I never ventured that far ahead, seeing the big fishy bastard for a coward. “When no one was looking, he stabbed himself.” That’s the last line, stuck in my memory, not for its own sake, but for my poor teacher’s horrified face as she read my final draft there on the playground.

A mom volunteered to type up the class’ stories and get them printed and bound. For years afterward I reread that collection, always proud to have written the second-longest piece therein. I felt the weight of the pages, inhaled the tiny but acrid breeze that came from rapidly leafing through them. Knew it was a whole smattering of worlds inside, that one of those worlds was wholly mine, and I had the power to show it to people however I wished. Yes, I thought, I want this.

I’ve been introduced to writing many times over, by many people. Don’t get me wrong--I nightowled the first several chapters to many half-baked novel concepts all through my youth. But teachers have a way of showing a thing to you from new angles.

The first person to impact me as such was a high school teacher who was essentially given carte-blanche to construct a creative writing workshop in the English curriculum. The first semester was structured--you practiced poems, short fiction, humor and essay writing, drama, the gamut. Every semester after, the carte-blanche was passed on: A single assignment due a week, each a single draft of a poem or a minimum of two pages’ worth of prose. Forty-five minutes a day to work, and of course free time at home. By the time I graduated, I’d finagled my schedule such that I was spending two periods a day in the computer lab, and several hours after school every day working the literary arts magazine before I went home to get the rest of my homework out of the way and write some more..

My next big influence came in the form of a pair of writers who taught fiction at my university, a married couple. One had me print stories and literally, physically cut them up section-by-section as a method of reworking chronologies. Told me stories happened like engines or clocks or programs--pieces that meshed differently depending on how they were put together, rules that held each other in place. The other showed boundless confidence in me, listened happily to some older students who recommended I be brought on board for a national arts mag. They both encouraged me toward grad school, but toward the end of my junior year I began to stumble, and by senior year I was, to be frank, a drunken asshole. Time I could be bothered to set aside for writing began to dwindle. I limped through the editorship with the help of my extremely talented, utterly more-than-worthy successor--and come to think of it, I’ve never truly thanked her. Maybe I’ll send her that message, now that I’m feeling more myself.

On feeling more myself:

That drunken rage was brought on by a myriad list of factors, the primary ones being 1) I am the child of recovering alcoholics, and our inherited family trauma runs deep, 2) An assault that will likely be mentioned no further from hereon in, as I have reached a solid level of catharsis about it, 3) Some toxic-ass relationship issues, and 4) I was a massive egg and had no idea (or, really, I had some idea, just not the language or understanding or even the proper empathy to eloquently and effectively explore it).

I had a recent relapse with drinking, technically--a mimosa at Christmas breakfast at my partner’s parents’ home--but I’m not honestly sure I can call it a legitimate relapse. I’m not in any official self-help group, I’ve never engaged in the twelve steps or a professional rehabilitation. I had a very wonderful therapist for a few years but reached a point at which I could not pay her any longer and we parted ways--I miss her dearly, as she truly became my friend and confidante; she was the first person I came out to, and very well-equipped to handle it, lucky for me--but I’m still on behavioral medication. That tiny smidgen of alcohol pushed my antidepressants right out of my brain, and I became terribly anxious and angry and sad all at once, and briefly lashed out during a conversation with my partner behind closed doors. Not nearly the lashing out I’ve released in the now-distant past--more on that maybe-never, but who knows, as I am obviously a chronic over-sharer.

Frankly, I don’t deserve my partner. She endured my past abuses, told me to my face I had to be better, and found it in herself to wait for me to grow. She’s endlessly and tirelessly supportive of me. She sat with me to help me maintain the nerve to start this blog tonight. I came out to her as a trans woman just under a year ago, now, and I’m happier than ever, and we communicate better than ever. Our relationship is, bar-none, the healthiest and stablest and happiest I’ve ever been in.

So, naturally, I apologized fairly quickly at Christmas, and continuing where I’d left off at two and a half years, decided I’m still solid without booze.

If we’re all being honest, though (and I’m doing my best to be one hundred percent honest, here, though I will absolutely be censoring names because no shit), I still smoke way too much fuckin’ weed. High as balls, right now. 420 blaze it, all day erryday, bruh. That self-medicated ADHD life. I should be on Adderall and not antidepressants, probably, but it’s been a while since an appointment and psychiatrists are expensive, so I’m at where I’m at for now. Sativas help a lot. It helps with the dysphoria, too.

I don’t have a legal diagnosis for gender dysphoria, but tell that to my extreme urge to both be in and have a vagina. I’m making little changes--my hair, an outfit at a time, no longer policing how I walk or run or how much emphasis I put on S sounds. If I manage to come out to my parents sometime soon--and it feels like that moment is closer every day--maybe I’ll tell y’all my real, full chosen name. For right now, call me Easy.

Anyhow. My goals here are pretty simple:

1) Share words, both those by people I like/admire/sometimes know! and occasionally words I’ve made that I like. See the above screenshot from my notes app. Steal some words if you want, but if you manage to make money off some of mine, holler at ya gurl’s Venmo, yeah?

2) Discuss words, how they work, and how we create them, use them, engage with them, and ultimately make art of them. I am not a professional linguist, but I went to undergrad for creative writing, so, hey, I’ll have opinions and do my best to back them up with ideas from people smarter than I am.

3) Books! Read them, revisit them, quote them, talk about them, sometimes maybe even review them, if I’m feeling particularly bold. No writer can exist in a vacuum, and any writer who insists they don’t like to read is either a) dyslexic and prefers audiobooks or b) in serious need of switching to a communications major (no shade, but also definitely a little shade @corporate journalism).

5) I added this last, but I feel it’s less important than 4 and does not deserve bookend status, and I am verbose but incredibly lazy, so here I am, fucking with the system. Anyway: Art! Music! Video games! I fucking love them. I’ll talk about them, sometimes, too. Maybe I’ll finally do some of the ekphrastic work I’ve felt rattling around in my brain for a while now. Jade Cocoon 2′s Water Wormhole Forest, looking right the fuck at you.

6) Ah, shit, I did it again. Oh well. Last-but-not-last: This is obviously, in some ways, a diary, or a massive personal essay. I will sometimes discuss people, places, or experiences that have informed my work just the same as other people’s art has.

4) Be an unabashed and open Trans woman. TERFs, transphobes, ill-informed biological essentialists not permitted. Come at me and my girldick and prepare to be dunked on and subsequently shown the door via a swift and painful steel-toed kick in the ass. Everybody who doesn’t suck, if I screw up on any matter of socio-ethics or respect for diversity, please feel free to correct me.

Punk’s dead, but we’re a generation of motherfucking necromancers. Be gay, do crime, fight the patriarchy, and fart when you gotta. May the Great Old Ones select you to ascend to a higher plane and learn the terrible truths of existence.

Much love--

Easy

#writers #writing #creative writing #trans #trans woman #fuck TERFs #writing about writing #writer #my writing #diary

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never-not-ever · 5 years

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Had an emotional therapy session today cause next week is my last one with Dr. Broderick. I started seeing her as my psychiatrist in July of 2017. I saw her monthly for a few months before I ghosted McLean between October-March. Last year in the spring when things were turning shit I reached out to her and started seeing her again. After a few months I started looking for DBT therapists but shit hit the fan and halted that process. Two weeks in residential followed by 3 weeks inpatient (yea I know backwards as fuck but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ gotta switch it up every now and again😂). After the shitshow of last Summer I started seeing her as my DBT therapist in August. I knew back then that it would only be for a year because she was graduating her residency June 2019 and alas June 2019 is here. It sucks cause a couple months ago when everything turned shit yet again, when my self harm was the worst it’s ever been and I was suicidal to the point of making a plan, I started thinking of June and I was terrified back then for this month. As always with my relapses it passed and for the months of April and May I was/still am happy as a clam 🙃. I’ve put off the thought of therapy ending, of losing yet another therapist, of losing the one person who understands the darkest parts of me so well. I’ve put it off til today. And probably will put off those feelings until Fridays session with my new therapist, package them up and have them emerge next Monday night when the realization that this is the end comes back.

I’m grateful that I’m in a DBT group that not only meets twice a week but also isn't a 1 year program, aka I’m not going to get booted to the door. I have so much support in that group and I love the group therapist who’s so funny and sarcastic and even referred me to my new therapist Laura. Laura does a couple groups at a ED unit at McLean but also has a private practice like 10 minutes away from McLean but also 10 minutes away from my old job in Arlington and driving past there was torture cause I miss it so much. It’s not that big of a deal but still sucks. On the plus side Laura also isn’t part of a 1 year program so there’s no end date. This will be the first time in years that I’ll have a stable DBT treatment team and I’m grateful that it’s not temporary yet I wish so badly that I could continue with Dr. Broderick.

Work is getting on my nerves lately (seems like this post is going to be nothing but complaints 😂 at least theres humor). I’m so fucking sick of floating from store to store. I want my own god damn store already. The only store I like working in is my home store because I know everyone, the department is run the way it’s supposed to and it’s home. But there can’t be an additional full timer there on top of the florist manager. Once again I’m grateful for this but it also sucks. No other job would give me the flexibility that I have and need for group and therapy. Not to mention I’ve been there for 9 years now and have 3 weeks vacation, and almost 14 sick days! And I’m able to change my schedule so easily and request certain days off for weddings and stuff. I only see myself at this job for another 2 years which brings me to my new fun topic..school😒.

So I had my suspension appeal meeting today with a bunch of other suspended students. It seems pretty easy to get back in. I’m basically on academic suspension because in Spring 2016 I was in the hospital and didn't properly withdraw and received F’s. Then in Fall 2016 I withdrew from my classes. Three years later and I want to go back to school and it seems like that’ll happen and I’ll be able to take 2 classes in the Fall but there’s 0 chance of getting those F’s off my transcript. It seems like for the next two semesters I’ll only be allowed to take 2 classes at a time and I need 12 more classes just to get my associates degree. Yup. 27 years old, 9 years after my high school graduation and I still don’t even have my god damn associates. Once I get my associates I’m going to hopefully be even farther along in my recovery and able to get a job in the mental health field probably low level but at least it’ll be towards my goal of one day becoming a social worker or mental health counselor. Two more years at Stop & Shop and then I can feel like a real adult working towards my own personal goals. I plan on transferring to a 4 year college in Fall 2021 and hopefully by then I’ll have a better idea of which track I want to head down.

Besides school, work and therapy that’s pretty much it for updates. Looking forward to my scar cover up tattoo at the end of the month and hopefully moving out with my girlfriend this Summer.

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

#personal #update #therapy #school #work #fun times

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star-anise · 6 years

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Hi! I’d like to ask your advice about school stuff, as someone who wants to become a therapist. My original plan was just to get a doctorate in psychology. After stumbling into a Deaf Studies AA program and then realizing I was trans, I figure I’ll probably end up specializing in Deaf and queer/trans clients. Do you think it’d be better to switch my course of study to social work, for the sake of learning more about marginalized communities and intersectionality?

Super depends on the school you want, your areas of expertise, and your perception of the field. I mean, psychology and social work are super super similar and often interchangeable; I’ve seen similar positions held both by psychologists and MSWs. On the other hand, that varies a great deal from place to place; I have a friend who works in a state where Medicaid covers treatment from an MSW, but not a psychologist; in other places, it’s reversed. I’d really recommend talking to people who work in areas or agencies you want to work. (Conferences or trainings are really good ways to make those kinds of contacts)

Part of the difference is the focus of the work you do. I’m more psychology-slanted so I do things like test for ADHD and talk about what’s going on in peoples’ brains, but I don’t have as much training in program design and community outreach. Which is really up to you, not the population you’re working with; queer, trans, and Deaf people need ADHD assessments as much as they need community health initiatives. That’s up to you, which lens and skillset you want.

I also just… kind of think the individual things you learn about your area of interest are up to you; you’re going to learn about queer, trans, and Deaf issues and mental health and history no matter where you go. Which school you choose affects how much research support you’ll get, whether people are involved in projects that your research can be incorporated into, what kinds of backgrounds your professors have, and what kinds of internship opportunities you’ll have. It really helps to think about what kind of life you want to have when you get out of school–where you’ll live, what kinds of work you’ll do, what agencies or organizations you’ll be liaising with, who your colleagues will be–and aim for a grad school that sets you up for that life as much as possible.

Questions to ask a prospective therapist school:

What experience do you have helping neurodivergent/queer/trans students succeed in your programs? (Also a question I’ve seen Jewish, Black, and Asian counsellors say they wish they’d asked about their own people)

How many neurodivergent/queer/trans students have graduated from your program?

How much do you offer your students in terms of mental health support?

What kind of mentorship or support is there for general academic guidance, internship searching, or research?

What kind of funding do your students generally get to do research with? What kinds of thesis projects have they done?

Do any of your instructors have experience teaching or supervising clinicians who provide services in Sign? Do any of your internship sites provide this kind of experience or supervision?

What queer/trans/Deaf agencies or organizations do your students get internship experience in?

How often do students struggle to find internship placements? How do you help them?

What areas of practice do your students tend to work in once they graduate?

How many of your students have job offers when they graduate?

Do you provide education or support in helping students set up practices or find jobs?

Are there queer/trans/Deaf students I can talk to about their experiences in this school?

This helps you predict some of the big issues I’ve seen people have in therapist school. It’s good to know what the general culture is like, what kinds of students they’re used to helping succeed, and what that experience is like.

Like, this is sort of a weird example, but in my super-liberal hipster Canadian therapist school, all of my American classmates ended up facing academic discipline at one time or another for “conduct issues”, ie. being too argumentative or emotional or not conciliating enough in school settings, like class discussions or performance feedback. These were white Americans who did not expect that there’d be a culture clash with a bunch of liberal white Canadians, but, well, there was. A few times when I saw it happen, people would get emotional or stuck on some political issue (”How do you handle a client whose religion conflicts with best therapy practices?” or “Should you discuss systemic marginalization with clients from marginalized groups?”) that in the USA is a hot-button issue, but in Canada we like to pretend That’s Not An Issue Here, We Can All Be Rational And Empathetic, so the Americans were like, “Am I crazy? I was the ONLY one upset during that discussion. Wasn’t that a rational issue to get upset over?”

Other issues I’ve seen people have are things like, “I have to fund and run my entire thesis projects 100% by myself and I’m struggling,” “I don’t match the profile of the ideal intern at any of the internships the school currently has, so I can’t find a placement despite 5 years’ experience as a mental health counsellor,” “I have to research this modality I’m interested in by myself and pay for the training totally out of my own pocket,” “My school was 1000km away from the city I’ve moved to and now that I’m graduated I have no connections or reputation with anyone who might actually get me a job,” “I’m setting up my private practice but have no idea how to write an invoice,” or “There was a resource for therapists of my interest group here all along, but because I never encountered anyone else who was ever into it, I never learned about it.”

Those are the issues I’d worry about way more than the letters the program will put after your name.

#staranise original #therapisting #answered asks #bread-tab #advice about therapisting

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