#school applications. so knowing what I need to do for grad school application would be helpful

[ongreenergrasses]

oh this is gonna happen by the skin of my teeth

[svtskneecaps]

i always know i’m getting stressed when my comfort fic becomes “time travel fix-it” adjacent. like honestly when i put that tag back in the ao3 include filters that should have been a red flag.

[queenerdloser]

arggggggh so the writing sample i want to use for my grad school apps is a portion of one of my novels in progress except that it's a portion that's still VERY rough and part of a novel that's still being drafted and i've been having SO MUCH trouble writing this stupid thing. and i'm like. okay maybe i SHOULD just do short story excerpts like i have some fairly polished short stories that will probably be stronger works. but genuinely i'm a novelist at heart and i don't plan to write short stories, i plan to write. this novel. in grad school lol like this is what i want to write as a project there. but i'm worried i won't have enough time to refine the sample and i really don't want to submit something half-done arggggggh

[swap-tech-enterprise]

Public Relations Internship Part A, Customer Swap Stories #2

My name is Michael and I am currently a junior public relations major at Penn State.

When the university announced they partnered with Swap Tech Enterprise (STE) and launched the “Semester in Their Shoes” program, I knew that I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. I would spend the semester in the body of a recent graduate working full time in the public relations field letting me see the day to day life of someone who works in public relations looked like. While participating in the program, the work assigned to you would equate to some of the classes I should be taking but can’t while part of the program, so not only was I gaining real world experience in the field, but I also wouldn’t be missing any credits and would still get to graduate on time. As for the person I would be swapping with, they would get to spend a couple of months living my life and having a break for all the work they had to do. 

Once applications for the program opened I immediately applied in hopes to spend my spring semester working in Public Relations. After months of waiting to hear back, I finally received the email informing me that I was accepted and matched with someone for the swap. I was so excited I could barely contain my excitement in the days leading up to the swap. Finally, the day arrived and I headed down to the STE Swap Bank as instructed. I informed them that I was participating in the program through my school and they quickly gave me a run down of who I would be swapping with other information that I would need to know before the swap. After receiving all the information, the Swap Technician took me to the swap room and began prepping me for the swap. As they counted down, I was so excited that I didn’t even realize I lost consciousness once the Swap Tech’s countdown hit 0. As I opened my eyes, I noticed I was in a different room and knew the swap had worked. However, as I stood up from the bed, something was wrong. Looking down at my hands I noticed they were showing signs of aging, which shouldn’t be the case since I was supposed to be swapping with a recent graduate. I brought my hands to my chest and noticed that I was showing signs of aging as well as my body looked like it hadn’t stepped foot in a gym in years. I quickly ran to the mirror and was shocked by the face looking back at me. It wasn’t the face of a 24 year old recent graduate but that of what I could assume was a 50-55 year old man. 

Turns out that Chris, the manager of the public relations team I was joining couldn’t secure any volunteers for the swap, so he elected to step up instead. I started demanding that they swap me back now, but per the terms of the contract I signed when applying for the program, it stated that if no recent grad volunteers could be available, the head of the team could step up in their place. Upset with the circumstances, I reluctantly got dressed and headed to Chris’s apartment in Midtown, as I was now going to be living at his place in New York until the end of the spring semester in May.  I quickly took a picture and sent it to my parents, as they wanted to be updated once I was settled in.

To say my parents were shocked was an understatement, but they also knew the terms I agreed too when applying for the program and told to stick it out as May would come soon enough and I could get back to my body. They also told me they’d keep a close eye on Chris in my body to make sure he didn’t do anything I would regret after the swap so that calmed my nerves a bit. Figuring I had nothing better to do, I prepped for my first day on the job tomorrow. What should be an exciting time in my life has now been ruined and all I can do now is finish what I signed up for. God, May can’t come quick enough! 

[dear-ao3]

K so I wrote out this whole thing, but then my phone deleted it bc my Tumblr clock ran out.

So I'll just skip to the part that was actually important.

The advice I've been given in regards to paying for school without a loan is to apply for scholarships like it is a job.

You are a competitive applicant given your # of degrees. So I think this is a viable option for you.

If you spend time researching and applying to scholarships like it is a 3rd job, you're likely to get accepted and have some of your tuition covered.

In regards to selling stickers, I am not sure this is a good option as the overhead might be too high to make a good enough profit. There are companies to do this through, but I'm not sure how much of the product money they take. And if you're packaging orders yourself that much more work than a 3rd job would be.

I wish you the best of luck on your grad school journey!!!! Congrats on getting accepted to grad school as I think the need for 30k implies??!!!

- cheesecake anon

hello cheesecake anon!

some clarifications:

i have not in fact been accepted into grad school. i have been told by a school that, with the qualifications that i have, they would accept me (haven’t applied yet because of a slew of reasons).

i know from the research i’ve done that that is Around what a program would cost, without scholarships (i know i can get at least some, but this does require a rather large move so will probably still need that amount reguardless)

in my other schooling exploits i have learned that you essentially need to have proof of acceptance into a program to apply for scholarships, which is rather difficult when 1. can’t apply for said school for another year and a half or so and 2. the program itself is 1 year and i need to pay for it upfront (yes it’s possible to go the scholarship route, i’ve looked into it, but i can’t totally rely on it In This Circumstance i need a backup)

i know the ideas on the poll are mostly bad lol i just need some alternative to only being able to rely on scholarships because i don’t think it’s going to work out that i can do that

[drewharrisonwriter]

Friends Without Benefits

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Even if you don't believe it, Dieter Bravo is actually capable of having platonic friendships.

Word Count: 10.5k words

Warnings: strong language, heavy flirtation, sexual tension (no smut--can you believe it??), mentions of past affairs and scandals, alcohol consumption, references to Dieter’s reckless behavior, mentions of drug use, emotional vulnerability, humor, inappropriate jokes (because, Dieter!), legal contract about not fucking

A/N: Okay, I know what you're thinking… another Dieter fic? Yeah, I know—it’s like my fourth one, so clearly, the brain rot is real, and I’m trying to get it out of my system (seriously, I’m trying… sort of). I know I haven’t updated Lifeline in a hot minute, but we’ll get to that later, lol. This fic is a little different from the usual—there’s a lot more fluff and friendship stuff, but I really enjoyed playing with the dynamic of two people who could totally cross the line but decide not to (because, honestly, it’s working for them as is). Also, apologies for any typos—I tried proofreading, but doing it on my phone isn’t exactly ideal. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, or just by simply commenting or reblogging, it would mean the world to me. 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

It started with a rejection email.

Not the kind that offered hope for future opportunities, but the type that crushed your spirit in one curt sentence:

"We regret to inform you that your application for the Screenwriting Development Program has not been accepted."

She read it over twice, then a third time, hoping something had been missed. A reason, some constructive feedback, anything. But it was just a copy-paste response sent to dozens—maybe hundreds—of other hopefuls like her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and put the laptop to sleep.

The screen faded to black, reflecting back an image she barely recognized anymore: tangled hair, circles under her eyes, and the lingering trace of a smile she hadn’t used in days.

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself. “I didn’t need it anyway.”

That was a lie.

The Screenwriting Development Program was her shot, her dream, the chance to step out of her day-to-day grind and into the world she’d always wanted. A world where she wrote stories that people would actually care to hear.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. In fifteen minutes, she had to be at the diner. She grabbed her apron off the back of a chair and stuffed it into her bag before heading out.

As usual, the shift was long. And slow. She spent most of her time refilling coffee for the regulars and plastering on a smile that barely reached her eyes. The rejection lingered like a dark cloud, reminding her how close she was to giving up completely. By the time her shift ended, she was so exhausted that she didn’t even change out of her uniform. She just grabbed her bag and headed out into the night.

The long walk up to her apartment felt heavier than usual. It wasn’t until she reached her front door that the next wave of despair hit her like a punch to the gut.

An eviction notice.

She stared at the paper taped to her door, her heart sinking.

“Great,” she whispered bitterly, ripping it off and crumpling it into a ball before shoving it into her bag.

Four weeks. She had four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street.

Later, she sat on her couch in her underwear and a camisole, trying to ignore the cold chill of the eviction notice that still hovered at the edge of her mind. The TV buzzed in the background, Dieter Bravo’s voice filling the small apartment with a familiar rasp. A half-eaten carton of ice cream sat beside her, its contents softening to a puddle as she mindlessly scooped the melting mess.

Hunger Strike was playing again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d watched it by now. Dieter’s performance was the kind that stuck with you, the kind that won awards. It wasn’t just a movie anymore; it was the movie that had put him on the map—had made him a star and earned him that Oscar. She didn’t care if everyone else had moved on to the next blockbuster; for her, Hunger Strike was it. Every look in his eyes, every rasp of desperation in his voice felt real, almost too real. It was like he wasn’t acting at all.

"We don’t need them. They need us!" His character was yelling now, his voice hoarse, raw with intensity. She could practically feel his pain, his determination radiating through the screen.

She wiped at her eyes, even though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was everything—her life, the rejection, the eviction notice looming like a ticking time bomb. Or maybe it was just Dieter. Watching him made her feel seen, like somehow, through all the chaos, someone else understood what it was like to be on the edge.

The credits rolled on Hunger Strike, but instead of turning off the TV, she did what any fan would—she went down the rabbit hole. The screen filled with suggested videos, interviews, and, of course, the latest tabloid scandals. Dieter Bravo was all over the place lately. She had seen the headlines—everyone had. It was impossible to ignore him, even if you tried.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through Twitter, where his name was trending yet again.

"Dieter Bravo's Latest Scandal: Sex Tape with Male Assistant Exposed!"

"Gender Identity Crisis or Another Stunt? Dieter Bravo Caught in Love Triangle with Married PA!"

"Oscar-Winning Actor, Homewrecker? Dieter Bravo Linked to Personal Assistant's Broken Marriage!"

She exhaled sharply, half-amused, half in disbelief. Every few months, it seemed, something like this would pop up—another scandal, another explosion in the media circus surrounding him. But this one? A sex tape? With his male personal assistant, who was married to a woman?

It was outrageous. It was chaotic. It was exactly what you'd expect from Dieter Bravo.

How does one even make this shit up? she thought, as she tapped one of the articles. The details were just as wild as the headlines. Apparently, the PA was a guy named James, and he’d been with Dieter for years—right up until last week, when everything blew up.

An article excerpt says: "Sources say that the sex tape in question was filmed during a drug-fueled party at Dieter’s mansion. It shows intimate moments between the actor and his assistant, James, who is reportedly married to a woman. James has since left Dieter’s employment amid the scandal, and insiders claim the actor is ‘unapologetic’ about the affair. This is just the latest in a long string of public meltdowns for the once-revered actor. Dieter Bravo’s chaotic lifestyle has led many to question his mental stability and even his gender identity, as he continues to defy traditional labels."

She snorted, shaking her head. “Unapologetic? That sounds about right.”

It wasn’t that she supported his reckless behavior, but there was something about Dieter that always seemed to push boundaries in every direction. He lived like a car crash happening in slow motion, and yet, people couldn’t look away. The scandals, the chaos—they were just part of his public persona. But there was more to him than that.

She clicked on an older interview from the Cliff Beasts 6 press tour. That was the movie where everything started to unravel for him. The film was supposed to be a big comeback, but instead, it had exposed the man behind the Oscar-winning actor—drugs, sex, alcohol, and a level of unpredictability that no one in Hollywood could quite handle.

Interviewer: “Dieter, after your incredible performance in Hunger Strike, people expected another award-winning role in Cliff Beasts 6, but... that’s not what happened. Can you talk about what went wrong?”

Dieter Bravo (slouching, visibly tired): “Cliff Beasts 6... yeah, man, that was a mess. But, like, it was supposed to be a mess, wasn’t it? I mean, we were trapped in that goddamn bubble for months longer than planned, and by the end, it wasn’t even a movie anymore. It was survival.” He laughed, a rough, bitter sound. “I overdosed on camera, for fuck’s sake. People thought it was part of the documentary. Maybe it should’ve been.”

Interviewer: “So, the extended shoot during the pandemic—did that affect the film’s outcome?”

Dieter (rubbing his temples, shaking his head): “Affect it? It was the outcome. By the time we got to month six, no one gave a shit about the movie anymore. It was just about getting out of there alive. People wanted me to deliver some award-winning performance? Dude, I was barely holding it together. I mean, look at the film—Cliff Beasts was never about art. By the sixth one, it was just... noise. Star-studded, CGI-filled noise. People expected something big, but I gave them a disaster. Maybe that’s what it needed to be.”

Interviewer: “The overdose incident—was that something planned for the documentary, or did things just... get out of control?”

Dieter Bravo (smirking, then shrugging): “Planned? Nah, man, nothing was planned by then. I mean, the cameras were always rolling, right? So when I went down... they just kept filming. Thought it’d make for good behind-the-scenes footage or something. But that’s Hollywood for you.” He paused, letting the weight of it sink in before adding, “People don’t care if you’re falling apart. They just want to know if it’ll sell.”

Interviewer: “That’s pretty heavy. Do you think Cliff Beasts 6 was the start of your... well, decline? It’s no secret you’ve had a rough few years since.”

Dieter Bravo (lighting a cigarette, ignoring the studio's no-smoking policy): “Decline? Maybe. I dunno. I think people were already looking for a reason to tear me apart. Cliff Beasts just made it easier. It wasn’t the overdose that got people talking, it was the fact that it happened while I was making a movie no one cared about anymore. The sixth installment, man. By that point, the franchise was running on fumes, and so was I. But people love a good downfall, right? They see someone on top, and they wait for you to crash. They’ll stick a camera in your face and call it a documentary when really, it’s just a freak show.”

She paused the video, the cigarette smoke still curling from Dieter’s lips frozen on the screen. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. It was no wonder the media loved to tear him apart; they were practically fed the narrative on a silver platter. His whole life had become the entertainment industry’s favorite sideshow.

She stared at the screen for a few more moments, Dieter’s face frozen in that half-smirk, half-exhausted expression. He was unraveling, and everyone was watching. Cliff Beasts 6 might have been the breaking point, but it wasn’t the cause. No, Dieter had been falling apart long before that.

In a different world, she imagined, she and Dieter could be friends. He’d probably laugh at the mess she just made, tell her not to sweat it. In another life, maybe they’d meet over coffee or work on some crazy indie project together. They’d both be swimming in their own chaos, but maybe that’s what would make their friendship work.

She wasn’t delusional; she knew Dieter Bravo was a celebrity—someone she would probably never meet, never know beyond the screen. But sometimes, when he said things like that, it felt like he was speaking directly to her. Like maybe, in some other life, they’d get along. They’d get each other.

Her eyes drifted down to the eviction notice sitting on the coffee table. Four weeks, it said. Four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street. It was hard to feel hopeful when every option felt like a dead end. And yet, watching Dieter talk about his own collapse, she didn’t feel so alone.

Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.

She ignored it at first, assuming it was just another bill reminder. But when she glanced at the screen, her breath caught.

Studio Callback - Screenwriting Internship.

Her heart stopped. A callback? After all this time?

Without thinking, she sat up too fast, the ice cream carton tipping over the edge of the couch and spilling melted chocolate onto the floor. “Shit!” she cursed, grabbing a towel and wiping at the sticky mess with quick, frustrated swipes.

It felt surreal. She had applied for that screenwriting internship months ago and had long since written it off as a missed opportunity. But here it was—another chance.

She stood there, towel in one hand, her phone in the other, staring at the message like it might disappear if she blinked. Four weeks until eviction, a job that barely covered her bills, and now, out of nowhere, this lifeline.

Her eyes flicked back to the TV, where Dieter’s face still stared back at her.

She picked up her phone and, without hesitating, replied to the message. Yes. I’ll be there.

–

The next day…

The waiting room buzzed with the same dreary energy it had since she’d arrived nearly an hour ago. Grey walls, uncomfortable chairs, and that humming fluorescent light that seemed to buzz directly into her brain. She sat on the edge of her seat, fingers tracing the spine of her portfolio, glancing at the door every time it swung open.

But this time, it wasn’t her turn.

It was him.

Dieter Bravo stormed into the room like a hurricane, sunglasses still perched on his face even though the room was dim, his hair a chaotic mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed—or maybe stumbled out of a party. His team trailed behind him, all looking frazzled and overworked. He barely acknowledged them as he flopped into a chair across from her with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“Well, this is bullshit,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m a goddamn Oscar winner, and they’ve got me sitting in this dump of a waiting room like I’m some extra on a low-budget indie film.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement. She knew who Dieter Bravo was the second he’d walked in—who didn’t? His face had been plastered on every tabloid for weeks. But there was something surreal about seeing him up close, in the flesh, like he’d been plucked straight from her TV screen. Don’t freak out, she told herself. He’s just a person.

Still, the excitement bubbled up inside her, and for a moment, she just stared at him, feeling the shock wear off.

He caught her staring. “What? You think this is funny?”

She blinked, pulling herself together, giving him a deadpan look. “I think you’re acting like someone who’s forgotten what a waiting room is.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or intrigued. “And you are?”

She shrugged. “Someone who’s been sitting here for an hour. Pretty sure I’m about to merge with this chair if they don’t call me soon.”

Dieter snorted, sitting up a little straighter, like he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Not outside his circle, at least. “An hour, huh? That’s it? Try six months trapped in a COVID bubble filming Cliff Beasts 6. That’s real torture.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I saw that movie. Pretty sure it was a crime against humanity.”

He cracked a grin. “Hey, that movie’s still paying my rent.”

“Is it? Seems like you should be able to afford better waiting rooms, then.”

Dieter leaned back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses even though they weren’t needed. “Touché.”

There was a pause, a silence between them that felt more comfortable than awkward. They were sizing each other up, like two kids sitting next to each other on a school bus, deciding if they wanted to be friends.

“So,” Dieter said, shifting his gaze toward her again. “What are you here for? You in trouble, too?”

She smirked. “I’m always in trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, me too.” He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking around the room as if just noticing how drab it was. “You work here or something?”

She shrugged. “Depends if they think I’m good enough to work here.”

“Good enough for what?”

“I’m a writer,” she said, half-smiling, but there was a vulnerability in her voice. “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up with genuine curiosity, which caught her off guard. “A writer, huh? You got anything out there I’ve seen?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Only if you read stuff on Medium and Tumblr.”

Dieter laughed, the sound deep and unexpected, like he wasn’t used to laughing like that. “Tumblr, huh? So you’re a real writer.” He gave her a playful look. “What do you write? Fanfiction about guys like me?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a teasing glint in her gaze. “Nope. But if I did, it’d be better than that train wreck you called Cliff Beasts 6.”

Dieter clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the ego.”

She smirked. “Ego as big as yours can take it.”

For a second, he just stared at her, genuinely caught off guard. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was normal, not some Oscar-winning disaster wrapped in a scandal. She didn’t seem to care who he was or how many headlines he’d been in. It was refreshing, and he found himself more interested in her than he had been in anyone outside his usual crowd in a long time.

“So what do you do?” she asked casually, keeping the banter going.

Dieter laughed, a full, deep sound that made him look younger than he usually did in the tabloids. “What do I do? I’m a professional disaster. You haven’t heard?”

She chuckled, nodding toward the door. “I think you’re better at it than you are at acting.”

Dieter looked at her for a beat, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “You know, I don’t get a lot of people talking to me like this. Most people, they want to kiss ass or they just want something from me.”

She shrugged, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

He leaned forward, intrigued. “You like books?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of books?”

“The kind that make people uncomfortable.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “I see you’ve read Camus.”

He grinned. “The Stranger. Ever read it?”

“I did. Twice. Though I’m more of a Kafka fan.” She paused for a beat, her voice deadpan. “I like my existentialism served with a side of why is everything a nightmare and also I’m a bug.”

Dieter laughed again, clearly impressed. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, her tone casual, but inside, she couldn’t quite believe she was having this conversation. With Dieter Bravo. Of all people.

They stared at each other, neither blinking, as if trying to see who’d crack first. But before either could say anything more, the door opened again.

“Mr. Bravo?” A frazzled assistant appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they motioned for him to come in. “We’re ready for you.”

Dieter groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he stood up. “Finally.” He paused, turning to her with a smirk. “Don’t go anywhere, book lover. We’re not done with this conversation.”

She gave him a small smile, though inwardly she rolled her eyes. Yeah, sure. Like you'd remember me in two minutes, she thought. Dieter was famous for being distracted, for forgetting people as soon as he turned a corner. Everyone knew about his ADD—it was practically part of his public persona. He’d probably forget her name before the door even shut behind him.

Inside the meeting room…

Dieter slouched into a chair, his eyes flicking toward the group of studio executives sitting across from him, all with tight-lipped expressions. They weren’t here to chit-chat. They were here to clean up his mess. Again.

“Alright, what’s the damage?” Dieter asked, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

One of the executives, a tall man with silver hair and an expensive-looking suit, sighed heavily. “We’ve already settled with James and his wife. They’ve agreed not to divorce, but we’re paying for damages—and couples therapy.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow. “Couples therapy? Really?”

The man didn’t blink. “Yes, Dieter. Really.”

The room was thick with tension, the kind that only came when the stakes were sky-high. Another executive chimed in. “The headlines are out of control. We need to distance you from this. Fast.”

“What do you want me to do? Apologize? I already said I was sorry.” Dieter’s voice was tired, edged with sarcasm, but underneath, there was a flicker of frustration.

The silver-haired executive leaned forward. “Dieter, this isn’t about a simple apology. You’ve gone beyond that. Your lifestyle—this hedonistic, Roman emperor routine you’ve got going on—it’s not just damaging your reputation. It’s hurting us. The studio. The people you’re supposed to be representing.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by the harshness in the man’s tone.

“We’ve invested millions in you,” the executive continued, “and right now, you’re a liability. There’s talk of ending your contract early. Cutting ties before you bring the whole house down.”

Dieter’s jaw tightened. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” the man said coldly. “I’m not.”

For a moment, Dieter just sat there, staring at the man, trying to process what he was hearing. They were serious. He was this close to losing everything.

Another voice chimed in—his publicist, trying to smooth things over. “We’re not saying it’s over, Dieter. But we need to fix this. Charities. Positive press. You need to lay low for a while.”

The executive nodded. “No public appearances, no parties. We’re going to find some charity work for you, get the public to see a new side of you. You’re going to disappear for a bit. When you come back, you’ll be better. Clean. Understood?”

Dieter clenched his fists, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

“And we’ll get you a new PA,” his publicist added. “Someone who can keep you grounded. Keep you out of trouble, hopefully, someone you could not fuck.”

Dieter waved them off, already bored with the conversation. His mind drifted back to the waiting room, to the girl sitting across from him, trading quips like they were old friends. At least she’s interesting, he thought.

Back in the waiting room…

She sat there, slumped in her chair, staring blankly at the wall. The interview hadn’t gone well. She hadn’t gotten the job. The casting director had been polite but distant, and she could tell by their expression that they already had someone else in mind. Her stomach twisted with disappointment.

No extra job. No extra paycheck. And no way to make rent by the end of the month.

She stared down at her portfolio, feeling the weight of her failure settle in. She’d have to start packing soon. Maybe call her mom, tell her she was coming home. She could already imagine the conversation.

“We told you so,” her mom would say. “You should’ve gone into nursing. Writing was never going to pay the bills.”

Her stepdad would nod in agreement, disappointed but unsurprised. “Creative writing? Really?” he’d say. “What did you think would happen?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to think about it. But the thoughts kept coming, relentless. She’d have to pack up, move back home, admit defeat.

God, I’m such a screw-up.

The door creaked open, and Dieter stepped out, glancing around. His entourage had already disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing alone for once. He spotted her instantly.

“Still here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She forced a small smile, shrugging. “Didn’t get the job.”

Dieter nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well... my meeting sucked too. They’ve decided I’m officially the next Caligula.”

She snorted. “That bad?”

“Worse,” he said, shaking his head. He stood there for a beat, looking around the room, then back at her. “You know what? Screw this. Let’s go grab a drink.”

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Dieter said, eyes glinting with that familiar mix of mischief and exhaustion. “I need a drink. You’re funny. Let’s go.”

She stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. But he wasn’t. She could see it in his eyes—he was serious.

“You buying?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter grinned. “I’m an Oscar winner. Drinks are always on me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up, tucking her portfolio under her arm. “Alright, Bravo. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He smirked, leading the way. “Baby, you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

–

The black Audi’s engine purred as Dieter navigated the dim streets, his phone vibrating endlessly in the cupholder. Text after text, call after call—all from his team. They were probably losing their minds, wondering where he’d disappeared to. He glanced at the notifications, scoffing, and shoved the phone further out of reach.

“So,” she said, glancing at him from the passenger seat, “do you do this often?”

Dieter smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do what?”

“Pick up random strangers and ask them to grab drinks with you.”

He laughed, the sound low and lazy. “No, I mean, I pick up random strangers... just not usually for drinks.”

She chuckled. “Well, you should probably get better at vetting your strangers. I could be a serial killer, you know.”

Dieter shot her a quick glance, grinning. “Even better. Might actually enjoy being murdered by you.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “You really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

“Disaster, masochist, artist... depends on the day.” He glanced over at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ve got a hell of a sense of humor, though. I like it.”

“And here I thought you were the sadist for thinking being murdered sounds fun.”

“Nope.” Dieter grinned. “Definitely a masochist. But don’t let that scare you off.”

She smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Too late. I’m terrified now.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering through the tinted windows, casting shadows on Dieter’s face. It felt surreal, sitting in the passenger seat of Dieter Bravo’s car, heading to God-knows-where. But she didn’t feel uneasy. In fact, she felt strangely comfortable. It was weird how easily they’d fallen into this rhythm, like they’d known each other for years.

“So,” she asked, breaking the silence, “where exactly are we getting these drinks?”

Dieter’s smirk grew as he pulled into a parking garage, winding his way up to the fifth floor. “Here.”

“Here?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter parked the car, and without another word, led her to the elevator. When the doors slid open, she was met with the sleek interior of his penthouse. Glass walls, dark furniture, and a view of the city that stretched on forever.

“Oh,” she said, stepping inside, taking it all in. “I thought we were going to a bar or something.”

Dieter chuckled, locking the door behind them. “Yeah, well, I’ve been told not to be seen in public too much for a while. You know... the whole ‘clean up the image’ thing.”

She turned, leaning against the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Right. The scandal.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that.”

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, should I be worried now? You could be the serial killer. I didn’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

Dieter grinned, moving toward the bar in the corner of the room. “Well, if I am, at least you’ll die with a good drink in your hand.”

Dieter’s penthouse bar looked like it had been pulled straight out of a high-end hotel. Polished wood, rows of bottles perfectly lined up, and a set of cocktail tools that would make any bartender proud.

He moved behind the bar with a familiar ease, pulling out a few bottles and setting them on the counter. “What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, Negroni... surprise me.”

“You got it.” He started mixing, moving around the bar like he’d done it a thousand times. She followed suit, sliding behind the bar beside him, the space between them feeling natural.

As they worked, they fell into a rhythm, like two old friends who’d done this countless times before. It was easy, the way they passed bottles back and forth, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating their conversation.

“So,” she said, shaking her drink, “you always this smooth with your guests, or am I special?”

Dieter smirked. “You’re special. I don’t let just anyone behind the bar.” He watched her expertly pour out the drink, nodding in approval. “You’ve got skills.”

She chuckled. “I bartend. Well, I used to, now I just work at a diner, but it counts.”

He laughed. “I used to bartend, too. Before all this.” He gestured vaguely to his sprawling penthouse. “I kinda miss it.”

“Miss what? Making drinks for drunk people at 2 a.m.?”

He shook his head, grinning. “No, the simplicity of it. The quiet moments before the rush. And, I guess, the people. You get to talk to all kinds of weirdos.”

She handed him the cocktail she’d just mixed, and he took a sip, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Not bad. Actually, really good.”

She smiled, taking a sip of his creation in return. “Yours isn’t half bad either, weirdo.”

He snorted as he finished drinking, “Looks like we’ve both still got it.”

They clinked their glasses, a quiet laugh shared between them.

–

They moved to the couches near the window, drinks in hand, and the night outside stretched on in glittering silence. It was one of those rare moments when the city was alive, but they were in their own little world, insulated by glass and a few too many drinks.

She stretched out on the couch, swirling the last of her drink in the glass. “So, this is what it’s like, huh? Being Dieter Bravo. A penthouse with a killer view and a bar that puts most cocktail lounges to shame.”

Dieter leaned back, grinning. “You sound impressed.”

She tilted her head. “I mean, it’s nice. But I’m not that impressed.”

He snorted. “Figures. I’ve gotta work harder to impress you, huh?”

“You said it, not me.”

There was a beat of silence before he broke it. “So, what’s the story? Why’re you still working at a diner when you’re clearly way too smart for that?”

She shrugged, taking a sip. “You make it sound like I had a choice. You think I want to be a waitress?”

“No, but...” He trailed off, clearly thinking. “I don’t know. You strike me as someone who should be... doing more.”

She arched an eyebrow. “More, like what? Writing fanfiction for Cliff Beasts 7?”

Dieter laughed, the sound filling the space. “God, no. Please, spare me.”

She grinned. “It’s not for lack of trying. I just... haven’t found my place yet. It’s not as easy as, ‘Hey, I’m talented, someone notice me.’” She shook her head, her voice growing quieter. “It’s a lot of failing. Mostly failing.”

Dieter nodded, leaning back in his seat, his expression more serious now. “I get that.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice softer but still edged with sarcasm. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re pretty damn successful.”

Dieter looked at her, really looked at her this time. “You think success means you stop failing?”

She didn’t answer, watching him with curiosity.

He set his drink down and ran a hand through his hair. “You fail more when you’re successful. Trust me. People are just waiting for you to screw up. And when you do... they’re there to watch you burn.”

“You’re talking about the scandal.”

He nodded, taking another sip. “It’s not just the scandal. It’s everything. There’s always someone out there with a camera, waiting for you to mess up. They don’t care about what you do right. Just the crash.”

“So you’re saying you’re a slow-motion car crash?” she asked, her tone dry.

He smirked, nodding. “Exactly. A car crash people pay to watch.”

She stared at him for a moment, her mind working through his words. “That’s... kind of tragic.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his grin fading. “It is, isn’t it?”

They both went quiet, the weight of his words settling between them. But then she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You ever think about, I don’t know... getting out of the car? Stopping the crash?”

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. “And do what? Go back to bartending? Give up the Oscar for a shaker and ice?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, her voice light but serious underneath. “Or maybe just... do something real. Something that’s not about everyone else’s expectations.”

Dieter looked at her for a long moment, something in his expression shifting, like he was seeing her in a new light. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do. Look, I might not be some hotshot writer, but I’ve always believed that what matters is the stuff that’s real. The art you make when no one’s watching. The stuff people don’t get to tear apart.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, everyone’s watching.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So maybe that’s their problem.”

Dieter laughed, and this time it wasn’t the careless, guarded kind of laugh he usually gave. It was genuine. “You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do. I’m always right.”

“Okay, Camus,” he teased, rolling his eyes. “You’re officially hired as my life coach.”

She leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t know if you could afford me.”

Dieter snorted, swirling his drink. “How expensive are you?” he asked, playful but intrigued.

She paused, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Depends… do you personally know Gérard Depardieu?”

Dieter grimaced, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip. “Gérard Depardieu?” He repeated, blinking in confusion.

She nodded, downing the rest of her drink in two big gulps, the alcohol warming her throat. “What? You don’t know him?”

“I mean, I do, but wow...” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a chuckle. “That’s a... pretty weird choice.”

“Well, what can I say? I like them like that.” She shrugged, her expression completely serious as she set her glass down.

Dieter threw his head back, laughing harder than he had all night. It was loud, unfiltered, and completely genuine, the kind of laugh that came when he wasn’t performing for anyone.

“You’re a trip, you know that?” he said, still grinning as he wiped at his eyes. “Gérard Depardieu. Damn. Haven’t thought about that guy in years.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, are you saying you don’t have weird celebrity crushes?”

He tilted his head, considering the question for a second. “I mean... I am the weird celebrity crush.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “How humble of you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “You should hear the shit people say about me online. I’ve been everything from someone’s ‘gay awakening’ to someone’s inappropriate uncle.”

She snorted into her drink, barely containing her laughter. “Jesus. People are wild.”

Dieter smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, c’mon. Who else you got? Who’s on your weird celebrity crush list? Lay it on me.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the moment, then said with a completely straight face, “Willem Dafoe.”

Dieter almost choked on his drink, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at her like she’d just told him she was into cryptids. “Dafoe? Willem Dafoe?”

“Yeah,” she said, completely deadpan. “What’s wrong with Dafoe?”

He blinked, still recovering from nearly spitting his drink out. “I mean, nothing’s wrong with him, but... wow, that’s... unexpected.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “I already shocked you with Depardieu. What were you expecting? Besides, Dafoe... he’s got range.” She gave him a wicked grin and added, “Plus, you know he’s freaky in bed.”

Dieter let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly doubling over. “Holy shit... you’re a freak. A true freak.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely not a bad thing,” he said, still chuckling as he reached over to refill her glass. “I’ve met some freaks in my time, but this? This is different. I like it.”

She eyed the freshly poured drink, tilting her head. “Not sure if I should feel good about that comment.”

Dieter grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “You should. Trust me.”

They both chuckled, the easy, playful energy between them lightening the mood even more. But then Dieter leaned back, giving her an amused look. “You know, I actually know Willem.”

Her eyes widened, her curiosity piqued. “No way. You know him?”

Dieter nodded, taking a slow sip. “Yeah. Great guy. Not as intense as his characters would make you think. Really down to earth. Freaky in his own way, sure, but... I get it. I guess I see what you see in him.”

She smiled, leaning back. “Well, that’s comforting.”

Then she paused, glancing down at her drink before adding, “I actually met him once. Worked as an assistant on a theater production he starred in a couple of years ago.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up. “No way. Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” she said, nodding. “It was this small indie thing in New York. I wasn’t his assistant or anything, just part of the general crew, but I did get to work around him a bit. He’s... different, in a good way.”

Dieter leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve really got my attention. You’ve done PA work before?”

She shook her head, swirling the ice in her glass. “Not really. That was more of a part-time gig while I was in school. I applied for a real PA job a few years back, but it didn’t exactly go well.”

Dieter’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

She sighed, her smirk fading as she stared down at her drink. “Well, I got all the way through the interviews, and then the celebrity—someone old-school—told me I was too chubby to work for them. Said I wouldn’t look good in photographs.”

Dieter���s face immediately twisted into a mix of shock and disgust. “Wait, what? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” she said, the bitterness in her voice barely masked by the nonchalance she was trying to project. “I didn’t even bother applying for PA jobs after that. Figured it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

Dieter shook his head, clearly appalled. “That’s... Jesus. I mean, I get that people in this industry are eccentric as hell, but that’s way too much. Who the hell cares what you look like in photos? You’re supposed to be doing a job, not starring in the damn pictures.”

She shrugged, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, well, some people care. Guess I wasn’t the image they wanted.”

Dieter looked at her, his expression softening with empathy. “That’s seriously messed up. I’m sorry you went through that.”

She waved him off, smiling more genuinely this time. “It’s fine. Honestly, it was a while ago. I just stuck to writing and waitressing after that.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Dieter said, leaning forward, “that guy was a complete idiot. You’d make a damn good PA.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Thanks. But I think I’m done with that world.”

Dieter studied her for a moment, then raised his glass in a small toast. “Well, here’s to not being the kind of asshole who judges people by how they look in photos.”

She clinked her glass against his, smiling again. “I’ll drink to that.”

The conversation lingered in the air after their laughter died down, a comfortable silence settling over them. She leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the massive windows overlooking the city, the skyline glittering like a distant dream.

“Gotta say,” she began, her voice soft but still playful, “this penthouse is... something else. It’s almost too perfect, though. Feels more like a set than a home.”

Dieter glanced around the room, smirking faintly. “Yeah, that’s because it’s not home.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “It’s not?”

He shook his head, swirling the last of his drink. “Nah. It’s just a place I own. I use it for... all the shit you probably hear about in the tabloids.”

She snorted, leaning in. “You mean the orgies and sex scandals?”

“Pretty much.” Dieter chuckled, but there was something more behind the laughter. His expression softened as he set the glass down on the table. “It’s not where I live. My real home is out in Sherman Oaks.”

She tilted her head, surprised. “Sherman Oaks?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s an actual house. Big, built for a family, but too large for just me. I don’t bring anyone there. Not my... conquests, not my parties. Just me. I paint there, you know? I’ve got this studio in the back, and when the world gets too loud, that’s where I go. It’s the only place I feel... I don’t know, settled.”

Her eyes softened as she listened. She hadn’t expected this level of honesty from him, but the vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable. “That sounds... nice, actually. Quiet.”

“It is,” he agreed, his gaze distant, as if he could picture the house in his mind. “But the silence can get too loud sometimes. Especially now that I’m older. That’s when I come back here. The penthouse. To drown it out.”

She frowned slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “The silence?”

Dieter nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah. You wouldn’t think silence could be so damn loud, but it is. Especially when you’re used to everything being... chaotic.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just watched him, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a loneliness there, one that no amount of parties, conquests, or tabloid headlines could fill. It wasn’t just about being alone—it was about being seen. About finding a place where the chaos didn’t define him.

She took a breath, her tone gentle but sure. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes the noise. Not really.”

Dieter blinked, turning his gaze back to her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, people see the chaos, the headlines, the scandals. But I don’t think that’s really you.” She paused, her voice steady. “You’ve got a whole world inside you that no one bothers to look at. You’re not just the guy who parties and ends up in the tabloids. You’re more than that.”

His eyes flickered with something—surprise, maybe, or recognition. He opened his mouth to say something, but she continued before he could.

“They don’t see the parts of you that matter. The parts that create, that make something out of all this mess. The fact that you’ve got a studio and you paint—that tells me a lot. You’re more than just an actor, Dieter. You’re an artist. And not because you say so, but because you are.”

For a moment, Dieter just stared at her, as if her words had landed somewhere deeper than he’d expected. She was looking at him like no one had in years. Not like a star, not like the scandalized mess the world saw. She saw him. The real him.

His throat tightened, and suddenly, the air felt heavier. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You’re not just memorizing lines. You’re putting something into the world that most people don’t even take the time to understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. It’s real, Dieter. And it matters.”

He blinked, the familiar burn of tears stinging behind his eyes. It was strange—he hadn’t felt this exposed in so long. The vulnerability, the rawness of being seen for more than just the surface.

A tear slipped down his cheek, slow and steady. He swiped at it quickly, but another followed. It wasn’t a sobbing mess, no dramatic breakdown. Just a quiet release, like the weight of everything he’d been carrying finally had somewhere to go.

“Damn,” he muttered, laughing softly through the tears. “You’re really messing me up here.”

She smiled, nudging him gently with her elbow. “You needed to hear it.”

He wiped his eyes, still grinning despite the tears. “Guess I did.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was comfortable, filled with an understanding that went deeper than words. In the quiet of the penthouse, with the city lights twinkling in the background, Dieter felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Peace.

But of course, Dieter couldn’t let the moment just sit there. He leaned over slightly, raising an eyebrow as a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So... is this the part where we kiss?”

She burst out laughing, her head falling back as she clutched her sides. “Oh my God, Dieter, you’re such an ass.”

For the first time in a long time, Dieter didn’t feel even a twinge of offense at being laughed at. In fact, her reaction made him laugh, too—a deep, real laugh that didn’t feel performative. It was just them, laughing like idiots in the middle of a moment that could’ve been serious, but wasn’t.

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, had to shoot my shot.”

She shook her head, still giggling as she nudged him. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me,” he teased.

“Debatable,” she shot back, smirking. “But that was not the move, Bravo.”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no kiss. Got it.”

She rolled her eyes, the amusement still lingering in her expression. “Seriously, though. You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Dieter said, smirking. But beneath the joking, there was a warmth in his eyes, a softness that hadn’t been there before. He liked this—being around someone who could take his nonsense and throw it right back at him, without missing a beat.

–

They had been hanging out for days—Dieter laying low like his team had asked, and her finding herself more and more wrapped up in his world. It was easy with him. The lazy mornings that bled into afternoons, the spontaneous outings, the hours spent talking about nothing and everything. It was like living in a bubble, where the real world and all its mess didn’t exist.

But it couldn’t last forever.

They were lounging in his penthouse, another aimless afternoon with the TV buzzing in the background, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“So,” Dieter began, his tone casual, but there was an edge of hesitation in it. “I’ve been thinking...”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, but there was a nervousness in his smile. “No, I mean... I’ve been thinking about you. Us, I guess.”

She frowned slightly, sitting up a bit straighter. “What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze for a moment. “I think I... I really like you. And I want to stay friends, you know? If you’re cool with it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course he liked her—they got along too well not to. But she knew what had to happen next.

She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I don’t think we can keep doing this.”

Dieter’s face fell, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what? Why not?”

“I can’t afford to stay in LA anymore,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m going home. To my mom’s and stepdad’s. The diner job just doesn’t cover rent or utilities, and figuring things out in this city isn’t really feasible for me right now.”

Dieter stared at her, the words slowly sinking in. His expression shifted from confusion to something deeper—sadness, maybe even panic. “You’re... leaving?”

She nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. I’ve got no choice.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at her like she’d just ripped the floor out from under him. Then, true to form, Dieter went into full dramatic mode.

“Are you serious?” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Like, ever.”

She laughed, despite herself. “Dieter, stop.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, flopping onto the couch like a petulant child. “You’re leaving me to fend for myself in this godforsaken city, and for what? Your mom’s house in the middle of nowhere? This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

She rolled her eyes, amused but touched by how much this seemed to affect him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Where’s your loyalty?” he muttered dramatically. “I thought we were in this together.”

She snorted. “I didn’t realize hanging out with you was a lifelong commitment.”

Dieter sat up suddenly, his eyes lighting up as if he’d just had the greatest idea of all time. “Wait a second...”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

“You still need a job, right?”

Her eyebrow arched. “...Yes?”

“I still need a PA,” he said, the excitement building in his voice. “My team hasn’t found anyone, and let’s face it—they’re probably going to stick me with some lifeless corporate robot.”

She blinked, not expecting this. “Wait, are you offering me a job?”

“Hell yes, I am,” he said, grinning like a kid with a new toy. “You’d be perfect. I mean, you know me. You get me. And you’re already here half the time anyway. Why not make it official?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. “I don’t know, Dieter. It feels like... I don’t know, like you’re just offering it because you feel bad.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “No, I’m offering it because I need you. And not in a weird way, okay? I mean, yeah, it’s a job, but it’s also more than that. I trust you. And I don’t trust a lot of people.”

She bit her lip, still uncertain. “Yeah, but it comes with a paycheck, right? That’s gonna make me feel... really dirty.”

Dieter laughed, leaning back into the couch. “Oh, come on. It’s a legit offer. And I’m paying you well, so you’ll get used to feeling dirty real quick.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone softening again. “Think about it. It’s not charity. It’s not a handout. I really need your company, and I think you need this too.”

She exhaled, staring at him for a moment. “I’ll... think about it.”

A few days later, she was back at the penthouse, this time with Dieter’s manager, his lawyer, and Dieter himself, all sitting around the sleek kitchen island. It felt surreal.

The manager went over the details of the contract, but it was hard to focus on the specifics when her mind was spinning with how fast everything was happening.

“And, of course,” the manager added sternly, “we have to include the no-fucking clause. If you two get involved, it’s not only grounds for termination but also blacklisting.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. “Seriously? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

She snorted, waving it off. “It’s fine, Bravo. I don’t think you’d want to fuck me anyway.”

He frowned, almost hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The manager chuckled, shaking his head. “He fucks anything that moves.”

She furrowed her brows briefly, her face showing a flash of disgust at the comment, but she kept her mouth shut. This wasn’t the time to start an argument with his team. Still, she couldn’t shake the sour taste the comment left in her mouth.

Dieter noticed her reaction and shot his manager a look, but the moment passed quickly as the lawyer handed her the contract to sign.

Once the papers were signed, it was official. She was now Dieter Bravo’s new assistant.

After the contract signing, they were back in the quiet of the penthouse. She stretched her arms out, feeling a mixture of excitement and disbelief at the day’s events. Dieter leaned against the counter, still processing it all too, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there in silence.

Then she clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Okay, Bravo, I’m treating you to dinner.”

Dieter blinked, confusion crossing his face. “Wait, what? You’re treating me?”

She grinned, nodding. “Yeah, to celebrate. You know, new job and all.”

He hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “You just signed a contract. You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”

She waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Take a chill pill. I just landed a sick new job with a really dirty paycheck. I’m excited, let me have this.”

Dieter chuckled, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I’ve taken way too many pills in my life. Not sure I remember which one the chill pill is.”

She burst out laughing, grabbing her jacket. “Well, then this will be the antidote. C’mon, we’re getting Five Guys.”

Dieter’s grin grew wider, his eyes lighting up. “Damn, baby, you know I can’t say no to Five Guys.”

She shot him a smirk. “Then let’s go.”

They drove in Dieter’s car, windows heavily tinted, cruising through the LA streets as the sun dipped below the skyline. They grabbed their order from the drive-thru window and found an empty parking lot, parking under the dim glow of a streetlight.

Dieter reclined his seat all the way back, pushing the front seats to give them more space to lounge. She did the same, their legs stretched out as they unwrapped their burgers.

“So,” he mumbled around a mouthful of fries, “what now?”

She shrugged, her voice muffled as she stuffed more fries into her mouth. “Idunno.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the radio playing softly in the background, the quiet hum of the city far off in the distance.

Dieter glanced at her sideways, studying her face. “You seem a little... off.”

She paused mid-chew, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, biting into his burger. “I dunno. Just felt like something’s been bugging you since we left the penthouse.”

She exhaled, setting her burger down, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well... your manager pissed me off. Big time.”

Dieter stopped chewing, his eyes widening a little. “What? Why?”

“That comment he made,” she said, rolling her eyes, “about you humping everything that moves. It was gross. And unnecessary.”

Dieter’s face reddened, the blush creeping up his neck as he rubbed at it, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, uh... that’s just how he is.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

He chuckled awkwardly, setting his burger down. “I mean, he wasn’t wrong. You’ve heard the stories, read the articles, right?”

She stared at him for a beat, then sighed. She knew he wasn’t trying to defend his manager, and in a way, she found that endearing—his loyalty to people even after everything they’d said about him. All the rumors, the scandals, the affairs. But she tucked that thought away for another time.

“That’s not the point,” she said, shaking her head. “As someone who works with you, the first thing your manager should be doing is protecting you—even from your own team.”

Dieter blinked, her words hitting harder than he expected. He felt something crack open in his chest. She wasn’t wrong. And hearing her say it so plainly made him realize just how much he’d let slide because of loyalty. Because of fear.

He smiled softly, biting into his burger, his voice quiet. “Thanks for saying that.”

She shrugged, offering him a small smile in return. “It’s true.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned over, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, you haven’t tried to fuck me yet, so I don’t think what your manager said was true.”

Dieter choked on his soda, laughing and coughing at the same time. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned, leaning back into her seat. “What? Am I not fuckable enough for Dieter Bravo?”

He immediately shook his head, his voice firm. “No, baby–you’re...fuck– you’re hot. Like, really hot. And I’m an idiot for not jumping you the second I met you.”

She snorted, clearly amused. “But?”

Dieter sighed, running a hand through his hair, his voice quieter but more grounded now. “Look, if we hadn’t had that first conversation, that night in the waiting room... I probably would’ve tried to sleep with you.”

She gasped dramatically, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Excuse me? What made you think I’d even want to sleep with you?”

Dieter burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Oh, c’mon, I’ve got ways. If I really wanted to, I could have charmed you into it.”

She snorted, shoving another fry into her mouth. “Yeah, right. You can’t charm your way into everyone’s bed, Bravo.”

Dieter stared at her, deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “Uh... yes, I can.”

They both broke into laughter, the moment light but laced with a shared understanding. Once their laughter died down, he leaned back, the humor fading slightly as he spoke again, this time more serious.

“But seriously,” he continued, his voice softer now, “I didn’t want to cross that line with you. Because... you’re different.”

She glanced at him, curious now, the playful energy between them simmering down as he opened up.

“I’m a messy person,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the steering wheel, fingers idly tracing the edges. “In every sense of the word. My life, my relationships—they don’t end well. And I’ve ruined... too many things that mattered. I can’t ruin this. I won’t.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely. “Why do you think it would ruin things?”

He took a deep breath, the vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he finally met her gaze. “Because when I sleep with someone, I lose track of... what’s real and what’s not. It always starts out fine, but I mess things up. I make it complicated, and then it all falls apart. And I don’t want that to happen with you.”

She studied him for a moment, seeing the weight behind his words, the sincerity he rarely showed to anyone. This wasn’t the over-the-top, scandal-filled Dieter Bravo the world knew. This was a man who was genuinely afraid of ruining something good.

“Wow,” she muttered, trying to break the heaviness. “So you’re saying I was basically a goner if we hadn’t talked that first night?”

He chuckled, giving her a teasing grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really are full of yourself.”

“No, I’m just honest,” he said with a playful smirk. “But really, I don’t want to just fuck this up. You get me, more than anyone has in a long time. And I don’t want to lose that because I was... impulsive.”

She looked at him for a long moment, their earlier banter giving way to something deeper. It was clear that he meant every word, and it made sense in a way she hadn’t expected. Dieter Bravo might have been a disaster in relationships, but he was choosing not to be a disaster with her. And that meant something.

“Well,” she said, her smile returning as she reached for another fry, “that’s good to know. I mean, you’re still a complete disaster, but you’re my kind of disaster.”

Dieter’s grin widened, the tension finally easing as he leaned back in his seat. “I’ll take it.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then added with a smirk, “Besides, now I’m legally being paid to not fuck you.”

He laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. “And I’m legally paying you to not fuck me.”

She nodded sagely. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Dieter chuckled, the heaviness of the earlier conversation replaced by their usual playful energy. “Yeah, it’s working out pretty well so far.”

They both sat there, comfortable in the aftermath of the conversation, knowing that while the chemistry between them was undeniable, the friendship was what mattered most. And neither of them was willing to risk it, even if they joked about it.

They sat in the car, the remnants of their Five Guys feast scattered on the console between them. The night had slipped into a comfortable quiet, the kind that came from hours of laughter, honest conversation, and greasy burgers. Dieter stretched, glancing over at her with a lazy grin.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. “You heading home now?”

She nodded, finishing the last of her fries. “Yeah. Gotta pack up my stuff and get ready for the big move.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Right. Moving in with me. Never thought I’d reach this point in my life where a woman’s moving in with me... and I legally can’t fuck her.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she leaned back into her seat. “Welcome to adulthood, Bravo. Full of responsibilities and boundaries.”

Dieter’s grin widened, leaning a little closer. “So, about this moving in thing—are you planning on, like, wearing layers of clothing at all times? Because I don’t need to make this harder for myself than it already is.”

She shot him a look, deadpan. “Harder for yourself?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Listen, I promise to be fully covered in the ugliest, most unflattering pajamas you’ve ever seen. Think, like, thermal underwear, oversized sweaters, maybe a balaclava if I’m feeling extra considerate.”

Dieter threw his head back laughing, slapping the dashboard. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.”

“Both,” she said with a smirk, grabbing the last fry from the bag and popping it into her mouth.

Dieter leaned back, sighing contentedly. “I still can’t believe it though. I’m actually gonna live with a woman. And she’s not some wild fling, but an assistant I’m paying not to fuck. Talk about a plot twist.”

She laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well, you better get used to it. I’ll be back in the morning with all my crap.”

Dieter grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Bright and early. So you better get your beauty sleep.”

He chuckled, looking at her fondly. “I’ll try.”

She reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment before looking back at him, her tone soft but teasing. “Try not to miss me too much tonight, alright?”

Dieter winked. “No promises.”

She stepped out of the car, waving as she walked toward her building. “See you tomorrow, Bravo.”

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back into the seat. “See you tomorrow.”

[rotworld]

25: Waking Nightmare

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

if you sleep, you'll dream. if you dream, you'll see him. if you see him, you will never be free.

->original work. explicit; contains non-con, graphic descriptions of violence, hard vore, terato, non-human genitalia, mind-altering magic.

.

.

.

You can feel him all the time now. Not just when you close your eyes.

But it’s fine. That’s normal. It’s just residual magic. You get the same sticky cobweb feeling when you work with infernal pigments or walk by a Fundamentals of Magical Writing class in the first few weeks when people are still knocking their Stygian ink bottles over. That’s just how it works. If you dunk your head in a pool, you’ll drip for a while. Nothing weird or worrying about it. It’ll go away on its own.

You stay out late a lot these days. Not for any real reason, honestly, you’re just busy. And why hole up in your dark, quiet, isolated apartment when you could hit the town instead? There’s no time like the present to start enjoying clubs, concerts and all the dazzling nightlife Obelos has to offer. Your final exhibition is coming up and you’ve been working hard on getting those pieces ready, of course, but you need a break. Anyone would. It’s fine that you’re at the bar until it closes. It’s fine.

“You look tired,” people have started to say. 

Well, obviously. It’s grad school! Everyone’s tired. Someone pass the tube of crepuscular blue. You stand up straighter in front of your easel. If you focus, your hand will stop shaking. You yawn and it spreads like a virus. See? you say. How are those gallery applications coming along? 

The goetia double-major brags that they’re going great, actually, thank you so much for asking. “I’m in contact with the director of Gallery Decadentia,” she says casually, savoring the jealous glares and chorus of seething “Woooow, congratulaaaaations.” She’s become almost tolerable since securing a Benefactor-Patron. A little less smugness and a lot less tainting the communal workshop paints with subtle poison and then acting shocked and heartbroken when a classmate is out for a week with the worst flu of their life. 

“Have any tips for snagging a Patron?” somebody asks. 

She shrugs. “Study goetia. Honestly, I don’t know how else people do it nowadays. You’re out of luck unless you get into one of those really big expos. It’s that or somnarium painting.” 

“Didn’t you do that for a while?” 

The room gets quiet and you glance up from the stormy swirls forming on your canvas. Oh. They’re asking you. And now they’re staring, because your eyes are bloodshot and you keep tapping one of your hands against your thigh in an irregular rhythm to keep yourself alert and awake. You shrug. “For a little bit, yeah. It was good practice, I guess.” 

You sound dismissive and they’re all nodding. “It’s so kitsch. I don’t get it.”

“Ugh, I had to do a bunch in Dream Augury a couple years ago. Huge waste of time.” 

“I think they’re great,” someone says, terse. “It depends how you do it. Some of the greatest masterpieces of the Renaissance were somnarium paintings.” 

“That’s completely different.” 

“Yeah, the term actually meant something back then. You didn’t just splash some watercolor on the closest surface first thing in the morning and say it came to you in a dream.”

“Expos are better anyway,” the double-major says. “You don’t want a mare for a patron.” 

“Really? Why?” 

She raises a brow. “What happened to all those great somnarium painters of the Renaissance?”

“They didn’t all go missing, though.”

“Sure,” she scoffs. “A few of them died in their sleep.” She watches you carefully for a while but you don’t care. You’re focused on your work. You have nothing to hide. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

You go out for a while. Enjoy the noise and lights, the lively ambience. You grab coffee. You window shop. You take the scenic route home. It’s well past midnight and you’re nodding while trying to find your keys in your pocket. You feel him. He’s there when your eyelids flutter. You jolt upright and shove your keys in the lock and it’s fine, all fine. You lock the door behind you. It’s dark. The lights don’t work right. You keep changing out the bulbs and they keep dying to a barely-there glow, weaker than little flickering candles.

Paper crumples under your shoe. That happens a lot. Kind of unavoidable when you’ve got sketches all over the floor and tables and chairs and stuffed in the drawers and pasted on the walls. Some are quick, frantic pencil scribbles, some ink, some hazy with watercolor, some sharp and acrylic. They’re of everything. Shapes. People. Plants. Animals. Corpses. Hungry castles. Seashell staircases and stained glass forests. And deer—lots of deer. Herds of deer, fractal deer, deer metamorphosis, deer saints. Close-ups of long lashes and bar pupils. Antlers that grasp.

You set an alarm for one hour from now. There are twelve more after that just in case. You might not even sleep. You might just lay down and rest your eyes for a second and—

You blink and there’s a house. A big one. A small one. It keeps changing. Cabin, cottage, courtyard full of butterflies. There’s a garden arch covered in clinging green tendrils and flowers that glow like the moon. Well, that’s alright, you tell yourself. It happens. Maybe you were just a little more tired than you thought. You set the alarms. You’ll be alright. 

You step through the arch and into a rustic foyer; stone floor, wooden walls. Candles flicker. The hallway forks in three directions, each dark path lit only by a breadcrumb trail of flickering candles. You start walking. It doesn’t matter where. Open doorways line the hall, each room beckoning your attention with the beauty of full-bloom gardens, tranquil beaches and palatial bedchambers. Some are already occupied. The people inside sigh, and weep, and scream.

Here you are again, in the somnarium.

“Are you lost, sweetie?” 

Someone peeks out of a room up ahead. A man. A mare, probably. He’s wearing a guise but there’s an unnatural, subtle luminescence around him, a soft haloing glow as though he’s standing in front of a light. He leans in the open doorway, an arm bent against the frame, head cocked and smile alluring. Light, silky robes hang from his body like a draped toga, the fabric translucent so you can see the subtle outline of his figure beneath. 

“I’m not lost,” you insist. “I’m just…”

“Why don’t you come here? There’s always room for one more.” You see movement behind him. Squirming. Writhing. Bodies entangled, arched backs and thrusting hips; a shared dream of pleasure. Three humans kiss and caress one another. The glint of eyes in the dark tells you another mare is watching. The one at the door tilts your chin, returning your attention to his face. “Mm. What a sweet, sweet scent. But you’re a little too lucid for my tastes.” He sighs, patting your cheek. “Run along now. I’m sure someone will be very happy to see you.”

You keep walking. The hall never seems to end, splitting into even more maze-like paths. There are spiral staircases and cellar doors, windows to other worlds. You keep moving because that’s better than standing still. You looked it up. Mares prefer ambush to pursuit, but that doesn’t mean they won’t go on the hunt if they want something badly enough. 

You see a nightmare of being lost in one room you pass. A man stumbles down a winding mountain path in hiking gear, shivering in the frigid wind. You just barely glimpse the mare—an elongated silhouette slinking through the trees. Across the hall, a woman dreams of a labyrinthine college campus and a classroom she can’t find and a mare follows closely behind her, nipping at her heels, hissing that she’s going to fail this class. 

Further on, a shared nightmare of being chased has ended and the mares feast on their quarry. Your stomach churns at the sight and sound of gushing blood and cracking bone, the squelch of disembowelment. The dreamers struggle but they’ve already lost. They are always weaker than the hunters in their dreams, always too slow to outrun them. Some are shocked awake immediately, vanishing from the somnarium and leaving pouting mares behind. 

But some linger, screaming for help and for mercy that’s never coming beneath their vicious attention. The mares wrench limbs from their sockets. They rip chunks of flesh from chests and thighs and lick the blood from their clawed fingers. They reach into the ragged, gaping wounds they make and shudder in delight at the fear their prey feels, the helplessness, the despair. Frenzied, their guises flicker and slip, revealing the wispy, protean strangeness beneath. They are ungulates—goats but not, caribou but wrong, spider-horses and centipede-deer. They move in ways they shouldn’t. Their bodies can’t decide how many legs to have and their faces are a constant shift of beauty and incomprehensible horror.

You see someone try to crawl away, shrieking in mindless terror when a mare pounces on their back. It stabs straight through their shoulder, staking them to the ground with a spear-like hoof. It rips at their clothes with its teeth and stomps their legs when they try to wriggle free, pummeling flesh and shattering bone. More legs—thin and spindly, sometimes hands, sometimes claws and pincers—emerge from its body to shove their head into the dirt and raise their hips. It makes itself a long, flat-headed cock already hard and drooling precum, grinding the grotesquely large organ against its prey’s backside. 

“Hello, pet.” 

You freeze when a hand seizes your shoulder and a warm, firm body presses against your back. Human, but only to the torso. You didn’t hear his hooves but you feel them now, knocking against your ankles. “Aelius,” you stammer. “I—”

“Do not speak.” He moves around you, his hand sliding from shoulder to the other as he circles around to stand between you and the doorway, his fingers hooking beneath your chin. He is calm and collected, unchanging in contrast to the constantly shifting nightmares gorging themselves behind him. You see a large deer-centaur, the lower body piebald with spots and patches of brown and white. Long white hair spills over one shoulder and down his back, the enormous antlers crowning his head tangled with climbing vines and pale blue flowers. Red eyes flick up and down, scrutinizing you. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Sounds of violence and lust—blood, hunger and ecstatic moans—emanate from the room behind him. When you start to squirm, he licks his lips.

“You have been avoiding me,” he says, low and dangerous. You start to insist that you weren’t, you’d never, you know better, and he squeezes your jaw. “Do. Not. Speak,” he hisses. “And do not ever lie to me again. Such impudence.” He drags you closer, his grip on your face forcing you onto your toes. He smirks in satisfaction at the small whimper you let out. “But that is part of your charm. Come.” 

He lets go of you and steps over the threshold, his form rippling as he enters the room. He stops to look back over his shoulder, his cold gaze warning you that his patience is short tonight. You follow reluctantly, entering the nightmare of devouring. He walks slowly and through the center of the carnage, forcing you to walk through unwound ropes of intestine and splayed, partially skeletonized limbs. You know where Aelius is going. You see the rutting mare ahead, back legs spread as it thrusts wildly into the captive, impaled body in front of it. You don’t want to get any closer but he looks back sharply when you stop moving. 

“Come here,” he growls. He’s appeased by your rush to obey but only slightly. He grabs your arm and drags you closer, forcing you to stand beside him. You’re right next to the other mare, so close that you could reach out and touch its flank. You can see the dreamer’s distend around its cock, abdomen bulging obscenely with every thrust. They shudder and moan weakly in pain, fingers tangled in the grass and dirt. Every time they start to sag and go limp, close to waking, the mare twists the dagger-like limb in their shoulder and makes them scream. 

Aelius grabs you by the hair when you turn away, yanking until your scalp is burning and you let out a wounded noise. 

“You may speak,” he says. “And you will tell me what drove you to such petty mischief. Do not look away.”

You inhale shakily. You do what he asks, even though the sights and sounds of the mare’s relentless thrusts make your stomach turn. “I…I want you to let me go.” 

He chuckles, his grip loosening. He massages your scalp instead as a reward for your obedience. “Let you go?” he purrs. “Whatever do you mean by that?” 

You swallow nervously. Is he going to try and deny it? Bored of the dreamer’s quiet resignation, the mare bends its front legs, the front of its body resting heavily on their back. Its thrusts slow to harder, deeper pounding, long pauses between movements leaving it fully hilted in the dreamer’s trembling body. You hear their breath turning to strained wheezes. 

“I don’t dream about anything else anymore,” you say. “I always come here.” 

“Such things aren’t unheard of. Many humans prefer my somnarium to aimless wandering, or the predations of other demons.” 

He’s going to make you say it. Why? Because it scares you? Because you know, deep down, what’s been happening all along but didn’t want to believe it? You take a deep breath. “I can feel you. Even when I’m awake. I can feel your magic on me.” 

The mare looks at you and your breath hitches. Its face is mostly human but there are flickers of other things, a fogginess to its features. It looks at you and in that moment it knows everything you want most and everything you’re afraid of. Its eyes narrow. It licks its lips. It keeps looking at you as it spills inside the dreamer, heavy balls pressed against their ass. A slow dribble of cum leaks from their abused entrance, dark blue and glittering like the night sky. 

“Oh? Is that so?” Aelius asks, stroking your arm. “And why might that be?” 

“Because…” 

The mare pauses for a moment. It’s not resting. It doesn’t need to because it’s not tired. It waits for the human to go completely limp, to exhale finally, to close their eyes and try desperately to will themselves awake. That’s when it starts to pull, dragging itself inch by inch out of their body, all the way to the tip and letting a gush of thick, frothing cum gush down their thighs. Then it slams back in, savoring their hoarse, rasping scream, and starts to fuck them again.

“Because you’re Entrancing me,” you whisper. 

You looked it up. It’s a slow, subtle thing, easy to miss until you’re in the throes of it. First, you’re tired. You want to sleep more often. Then sleep always brings you to the same somnarium, and your dreams always push you into the arms of the same mare. Then you feel it—intrusions in your mind. Whispers and suggestions, gentle nudges. Thoughts that feel like yours but aren’t. It takes a long time for a mare to get so far in your head that it starts to leak into your waking life, but once Entrancement has set in, it can take months or even years to fully break.

The more you see him and the more he feeds, the worse it’ll be. You already respond to his touch, unable to stop yourself from leaning into his hand stroking your cheek.

“The modern age is so vexing at times,” Aelius muses. “Once, you would have needed to consult an oracle or an experienced infernal scholar to even hear that word and understand what it entailed. It matters not. You are already mine. And is that not what you asked of me?” 

You wanted security. You wanted to stop worrying about your bills and tuition and the staggering cost of infernal pigments. You wanted to know you would be alright in the end, no matter what happened. “I asked if you would be my Patron,” you say.

He smiles and leans in, bending down to be closer to eye level with your thumb caught between his fingers. “And I said I would,” he murmurs. “Gladly I would, to ensure your brush is ever wet with the finest paints, so long as you paint for me. Of course I Entranced you. You belong to me.” 

You think he’s going to kiss you. You hold your breath, waiting for it. Hoping, despite everything. It frightens you to want him this much. But instead he chuckles and pulls away, straightening to his full height. 

“Now, this is the scene you will paint for me when you wake.” He gestures to the smirking mare who arches seductively as though posing for you, its hips still snapping against its captive prey. “Look carefully,” Aelius says, grasping your shoulders. He stands right behind you, pressing his toned chest against your back. “Pay close attention. The light. The color. The movement. You will be rewarded for your attention to detail. Perhaps, someday…” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “Someday, I will ask you for a self-portrait in the same style.” 

Loud, shrill noise makes you gasp and bolt upright. You wake up in bed, in the dark. You grope for your phone on the bedside table, stomach sinking when you see you slept through four of your alarms. You can feel him, even now. You can feel the weight of his gaze and the ghostly caress of his hands. You don’t know what you’re going to do. Is there someone you can tell? Someone who can help you? You know someone in the Goetia Studies Department. Maybe she—

Your heart skips a beat. You sit up slowly, pulling your leg back from the hard surface it just bumped into. There, at the foot of your bed, is a canvas and a collection of brand new infernal paint.

[ryan-nugenthopkins]

"What electives did you take in your undergrad? I know there's some requirements for English in American -" "I took ballet," Jeremy blurts out. "For my art elective." Dr. Ullmark blinks. Rubs his eyes. "Ballet," he repeats. "I played hockey in undergrad," says Jeremy meekly. "Goalie. The - the ankle flexibility -" "Yes, I can see the value of... dance, for netminding," interrupts Dr. Ullmark, but there's the start of a smile dancing on his lips. "I'm not sure how useful ballet will be for Scandinavian poetry, but I'm sure we can make it work together?" Jeremy's fucked. In more ways than one.

Dr. Linus Ullmark is in… a state of a transition. Being a sessional lecturer at a school better known for its biology programs than its literature research is fine for now. He just needs hear back on that professorship in Ottawa. Or the applications for positions back in Sweden. Or even that research fellowship in Norway, of all places. Until then, he’ll grit his teeth and keep teaching introductory comparative literature at Boston University, because something better is bound to come eventually.

It’s only classic for administration to drop a random TA into his lap after he’s specifically said that he doesn’t need one. It’s even better that this Jeremy Swayman is a PhD candidate from the natural sciences faculty, and likely can’t tell expressionism from surrealism. But making ends meet as a grad student is difficult enough, and if the paycheque isn't coming out of his research grants, Linus really wouldn’t mind an extra body during seminars. All the guy has to do is sit in on lectures and answer student emails. How bad could it be?

Two things go wrong at the very start — Jeremy knows less about literature than Linus could even fathom, and he is painfully earnest about trying his best to be a good TA despite this fact. At least he’s cute, even if Linus would prefer maybe 40% of his current energy.

It's fine. Linus just needs to get through this semester like a professional.

Jeremy Swayman is a PhD student studying Environmental Science at Boston University, and he’s damn good at it. It’s a shame that living in Boston is as expensive as it is, but he’s been able to supplement his scholarships with teaching labs around the department for the past two years of his degree. But when his usual positions fall out from under him, the university presents him a TA position in the Literature department, of all things. Jeremy can’t do anything but lie egregiously about his qualifications and accept it. How hard could an introductory comparative literature course be to bullshit, anyway?

Of course, it then goes to shit almost immediately when Dr. Ullmark clocks him as embarrassingly underqualified. But he hires him anyway, and Dr. Ullmark has a quiet but wicked sense of humour, and is ever so patient when walking through the course assignments with him, and doesn’t laugh meanly at his attempts at pronouncing the author names on the reading list, and —

Jeremy may be falling a little too fast. For an Arts prof, of all people.

As the semester begins, will Linus and Jeremy figure out how to run the course together despite their differences? And is something else brewing on the horizon?

Academia AU Swaymark for @ullybug :3

[communistkenobi]

would you be at all willing to talk about your experience of undergrad vs grad school? personally i struggled quite a bit in undergrad but am still always tempted to go back, and i think maybe the narrowed focus of grad school would be a little easier to handle, but i'm not sure if that would actually be the case... & perhaps your experience was something else completely and maybe this is too vague also lol, but i'm very curious about how you felt they were different!

yeah totally! My experience is doing graduate degrees (writing a thesis) in the faculty of social science in Canadian universities, so everything I’m about to say comes from that specific context. Definitely not universal lol

in my experience grad school is a lot more customised than undergrad. You still have required courses, non-course degree milestones (usually you’re required to present your work at conferences, which can get expensive and isn’t always covered by your department, as well as produce summaries of work you’ve done, research proposals, scholarship applications, etc), and standardised expectations, but you have a lot more choice in the courses you take and what topics you focus on. One university I was at was very relaxed about deadlines in grad school (I easily got extensions from profs without needing doctors notes or official accommodations, i was given the ability to redo assignments, etc), and the other was the ecact opposite (treated me like a idiot for needing extra time with work). If you’re doing a thesis project, a lot of your degree is independent work that you do in your own time - this was a huge struggle for me at the end of my masters, and I had to do “martial law” with my graduate friends at the very end, which basically meant us instituting a highly regimented schedule together made up of work sessions and breaks where we would each meet up and work on finishing our thesis (1 hour of work then 15 min break, rince and repeat, do this for four or five sessions a day every day). You are on a time crunch as you only receive funding for so many years, if you get offered funding at all.

your supervisor has a lot of control and influence over you - they are meant to guide you through the research process, develop your project, give you feedback, provide you with appropriate literature, double check your work, and help you get grants / funding. If you get a bad one it can legitimately ruin your life. I have had hilariously bad luck with supervisors (I’ve had to switch supervisors twice due to discrimination and breaches of provincial human rights law - which is not the norm to my understanding lol).

it depends on why you want to go to grad school and what you plan to do after. I want to stay in academia so that’s where most of my advice comes from. Tenure-track positions are incredibly difficult to secure and if you’re serious about staying in the academy you should be publishing your research while you’re still in graduate school, and treat every term paper as a draft of something you’re going to publish. I also have backup jobs I know I can apply for outside of academia if I don’t get any academic offers.

it’s relatively common for students to join a two or four year grad program but take way more time than that to finish. Usually if you get any funding packages, they only cover the official allotted years (in my experience, two for a master’s, four for PhD), meaning that if you need extra time, you could be finishing your degree with no funding and no guaranteed employment. If your supervisor is cool/connected they might have money they can swing your way, but it’s a tenuous and scary way to live if you have no other source of income.

funding usually comes from 1) grants your department gives you (they will tell you if they’re giving you money on your acceptance letter), 2) teaching assistant positions (I was/am required to be a TA, which usually involves grading undergraduate work, running labs, or leading teaching sessions/“tutorials”) and 3) federal scholarships that you are required to apply for. You need to write applications for these scholarships, usually including a research proposal, a CV/resume, a transcript of your grades, and recently, they’ve added a requirement for a diversity statement explaining any minority statuses you have and how that affects your education. TA work has an uneven workload from week to week, and usually most of the work is towards the end of the term when you’re grading final essays/exams, which creates crunch periods where you’re both working on your own coursework and grading undergrad work.

again a lot of this might not apply to your particular discipline or university or country. Usually universities list a lot of this info on their website, which can help you figure out what’s required of you. Grad school is structured like a full time job and it doesn’t pay very well even if you are funded. I lived with my parents for most of my master’s which gave me the financial stability to complete it. It’s not easy and it takes up most of your waking time, and it can leave you in a financially precarious position with a lot of debt. It’s definitely not something I would recommend for fun unless you have a lot of money and time to burn

[otaku553]

I recall you mentioning once that you worked in a lab, do u have any advice for getting to that point? I want (read: NEED) to work or intern at a lab but I don’t rlly know what to ask the ppl running them lol

If I can help I'd be glad to!! Full disclaimer though, I am an undergrad junior and I go to school at a pretty reputable research institution so I may not be that much help because I've been pretty lucky and privileged to have direct access to many opportunities. If you're not a high schooler or undergrad student, my advice might not even apply to you at all. This got quite long, so I'll put this under a read more. If you have any more questions, feel free to dm me!

I don't know what your research interests are or what level of schooling you're at so I'll try my best to be broad. You're right that it's best to directly ask the person running the lab, the principal investigator (PI). Even if there's an official application process for fellowships or summer research grants or programs, usually already having reached out to a mentor is either a requirement or strongly encouraged. This applies for both university labs and I think rseearch agency labs like NIH, though I will say, a lot more of my advice will apply to labs at universities.

Understandably, though, it's really difficult to write that email, and quite disheartening that usually you'll need to write multiple emails to different PIs before even getting a reply back. One way to deal with this is to find a template online to copy, because word for word these emails usually go

"Hello [so and so], My name is [so and so] and I'm [brief introduction]. I'm interested in [what research this lab does] and was wondering if you have any positions available in your lab for [period you want to do internship during]. If you need them, my resume and transcript are attached. Thank you for your time."

You can delve into more specifcs in the body but it doesn't need to be long-- I think PIs tend to be quite busy, so being concise and direct is good, as long as you're genuine about what you're interested in. It doesn't need to be an essay or multiple paragraphs or anything! I find that usually 3-4 sentences suffices. If they want to know more, they'll usually ask to meet to talk about what you're interested in.

(On a side note, my roommate has an excellent strategy for dealing with anxiety when sending an email where you recite "fuck it we ball fuck it we ball fuck it we ball" while clicking send lmao)

Now, more specifically, if you're already attending a college that has labs, and professors who are PIs of those labs, it can be useful to take a class that the PI teaches and email either while taking the class or after the class and say "this class was very interesting and i was hoping to explore [so and so] further. Do you have any openings in your lab etc." If you don't have the time to do this, just cold-emailing the lab is usually fine too, but it's good to cite a connection I think? Also keep an eye out for any presentations or seminars that might be given by grad students or professors, since going to those can be a good way to express interest.

If you're a high schooler, you won't have the immediate connection, but I think most researchers would be impressed with the initiative to reach out and have no reason to refuse help. You might have a harder time finding a paid internship as a high schooler, but even with volunteering you can definitely get a foot into the door with research experience. I think a good way to start for high schoolers is looking into local university labs and expressing an interest in their work? Or reaching out to alumni of your school to ask for general advice and or opportunities.

If you don't receive an email back, you can send a follow up in two or three days. Sometimes emails can get pushed to the bottom of the inbox before they're seen, and it's no harm to just bump it again, with a little "hello! I wasn't sure if you'd seen this email. I'd like to follow up on this." (historically, I have been very bad at this, ahha). If you receive a negative response (which is pretty unlikely I think?) you can still thank them for their time and ask for advice regarding getting into research for their field of specialty.

I hope this helps! If you have any more questions, please feel free to ask or dm me. I will try my best to be helpful :)

[study-coffee-chicago]

You Got This, Kid (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister Imagine)

A/N: I'm back! Please enjoy this imagine about what I've been going through with grad school applications and everything else these past few months. It's a long one (the longest I've ever written, clocking in at 23.7k words), so grab you might want to grab your snacks now. Finally, thank you for reading, and don't forget to reblog/like and comment!

Enjoy!

Okay, so maybe checking your email when you were out to lunch just trying to have a relaxing afternoon before taking a nap before work was a bad idea.

"Yeah?" Jay asked when he answered his phone.

"I'll know if I got into East Carolina by 6 pm today," you told him. You had been researching and applying to Ph.D. programs in clinical psychology since August and had decided to apply to five in total. It was currently January and you had yet to hear back from a single one. And, East Carolina University was your top choice.

"Oh, wow. Just take a couple deep breaths. I guess today was a bad day to have us get the new appliances put in, huh?"

"Yeah."

For Christmas, Hailey's Christmas present to herself and Jay's Christmas present to her were all new appliances in the apartment. You had no idea how they got around that since they were renting, but you had a suspicion that them both being cops had something to do with it.

"Well, the appliance people just left, so you can come home any time," Jay told you. "Think positive."

You rolled your eyes. "You know you're talking to the world's biggest pessimist, right?"

"It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more positive is all I'm saying."

"It's not like you're a ray of sunshine either, Jay."

"Fair point."

"Well, I've got two pages left of this chapter and then I'm coming home."

"Okay, drive safe," Jay told you and then you hung up the phone.

You knew you needed to get home soon because the more time you had to sleep before work tonight the better. And, you knew it would be hell falling asleep because you'd be counting down the minutes until you knew whether or not you got into ECU.

***

"This is fucking ridiculous," you muttered as you walked out of your room and into the kitchen.

"Language," Jay warned from his place at the kitchen table, case notes spread out in front of him.

"I'm 23, Jay."

"Fair point. What are you doing up anyway?"

"I can't sleep," you whined as you grabbed the kettle from the stove and began filling it with water. "And, why are you working when you're not at work?"

"I can't relax. You know that."

"Apparently I can't either," you muttered.

You felt like you were going to throw up from nerves. What if you didn't get into this Ph.D. program? And, if you didn't get into this one, what if you didn't get into the other four? If you didn't get into a Ph.D. program and a Ph.D. was required for your degree, then what were you going to do with your life?

You dug the fingernail of your pointer finger into your thumb to ground yourself. You knew it wasn't the healthiest coping/grounding mechanism, but hey, it worked.

The kettle was whistling, so you turned off the burner and grabbed a mug and a peppermint tea bag. Maybe the peppermint would help your nervous stomach settle. After all, Will told you peppermint tea was supposed to help with period cramps, so maybe it would help with this, too.

"You want some?" you offered. "I'm making peppermint."

"Sure, why not," Jay agreed.

Once your tea was finished you handed a mug to Jay. "I didn't put any milk or sugar in yours because you're a health nut."

"Now you sound like Hailey," he said and stood up to add a splash of milk to it.

"I'm gonna go read until I can't keep my eyes open," you told him. "The faster I fall asleep, the faster the time will go, so the sooner I'll know if I get in."

"Night, kid," he said.

Then, you made your way to your room and turned on a calming instrumental playlist on Spotify, turned on a lamp so that the lighting was dim, but enough that you could see, and then curled up in your bed with the book you were currently reading and your mug of hot, peppermint tea.

***

As it turns out, sleeping for a long period of time to make time go faster was easier said than done.

You tossed and turned for half an hour until your eyes were finally drooping while you were reading. And then, you woke every hour for the next three hours. The last time you woke up was 5:45 pm.

The email said you'd know your results by 6.

A knot formed in your stomach as you reached for your phone. You opened your flagged emails and located the one which had the link to the application portal. Then, with shaking hands, you clicked on it.

You took a deep breath and logged in.

You felt your heart beating out of your chest as you hit the tab that read application status.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath and opened them.

Despite the contents of your application, we are a very competitive program...please don't let this deter you from applying to other or future programs...

Tears began to prick your eyes.

"Fuck," you muttered. "No, no, no, no."

You grit your teeth to keep the tears from falling and grabbed your phone and then left your room and walked out to the kitchen, where Jay was cooking dinner.

"Hey," you said quietly.

"Hey, you didn't sleep very long—" But then, Jay saw your face. "Oh no. ECU?"

"Denied," you told him as you continued to hold back tears.

"Hey, there's still what? Four other programs you applied to? And, you just emailed a school in Florida yesterday about how to check your application status, so maybe you got in there. Did they email you back yet?"

You shrugged, Jay was always the rational one though, so you opened your phone and once again navigated to your emails. Sure enough, University of Florida emailed you back with instructions on how to check your application status.

"They emailed me."

Jay nodded, but you didn't see because you were too busy hitting the link the school had sent you and then typing in your username and password.

When it loaded, your heart dropped.

There, in big, red, bold letters after application status, it read Denied.

"No," you choked out as tears began to stream down your face. "No, no, no no! If I didn't get into either of these, how am I gonna get into Wayne State because that's the best neuropsychology school in the country? And then I only have two left and—ugh!"

"C'mere, c'mere," Jay said softly and took a step towards you and wrapped his arms around you.

"I just- I worked so hard on the applications!" you sobbed as your tears began to soak his shirt.

"I know. I know you did, kid. It's their loss. There's a school out there for you."

"But what if there's not!"

"There is." He paused and then his parental/brotherly instincts kicked in. "Now, do you want to stay here and eat or go back to sleep?"

"Go back to sleep," you mumbled.

"Okay. I'll wake you up in two hours so you don't have to set an alarm. Sound good?"

"Okay," you muttered.

When you started to make your way to your way to your room, Jay said after you, "You go this, kid."

***

It had been two days since you learned you had gotten denied admission to East Carolina University and the University of Florida. You had thought about your plan and what you were going to do next. The only options you had come up with were (1) apply to PsyD programs (more clinical, less research, but also less funded) if you could find some with later deadlines that were still accepting, (2) go to school in Europe (but that might pose issues with licensing if you ever wanted to come back to the US and practice), or (3) take yet another gap year.

You had relayed these options to Will, Jay, and Hailey the night before when Will stopped over with some I'm sorry you got rejected from two Ph.D. programs so maybe this will make you feel better coffee from one of your favorite coffee shops before your shift last night.

"Morning," Jay said when you walked upstairs later that night. Despite it being 7 pm, since you worked night shift, this was technically your morning.

"Morning," you said, your voice monotone.

"You feeling okay?" Jay asked as you grabbed the container of cold brew from the fridge and then grabbed a glass.

"Physically, yeah. Emotionally...not so much."

"Good enough to figure out your next steps?"

Luckily, you had finished pouring your cold brew and put the cap back on the container or else you knew you would have spilled it everywhere at that question. "What? I'm trying to figure it out, Jay!"

Jay put his hands out in front of him in a calm-down gesture. "I know. I'm not saying you aren't, but well, I have access to tech at the district that you don't have that might make looking for more schools easier."

"Okay...and?"

Jay muttered something under his breath about having to spell everything out for you all the time...which luckily you didn't hear. "Me, you, and Will are going to the district to do some research on grad schools."

You cocked one eyebrow. "You're trusting Will to use state resources?"

"No. God, no. He's there to research on his own laptop and then read over some of your essays...if we get that far."

You nodded. This was all just so overwhelming that despite how grateful you were for both your brothers' help, that was all you could do.

"Leave in an hour?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Just, give me time to shower and eat something."

And by something, you meant a piece of fruit and maybe a granola bar. Seeing how riddled with anxiety and frustration and whatever other shitty feelings you had been feeling the past two days since you got denied from the only two schools you had heard from so far, your stomach hadn't been feeling that great and your appetitive was half as much as it was before you got your results...if you had an appetite to begin with. You felt like that last complete meal you had eaten was the night you had gotten those results and Jay had dinner for you. For the past two days, you had mostly eaten what you felt like you could stomach without feeling nauseous, which was mainly smoothies, fruit, protein shakes, and snack foods. You knew your appetite would come back eventually and your nausea would go away eventually, but for now, it was here and you just had to deal with it...much like you had to deal with the fact that you had to do even more work to get into grad school than you had previously thought.

***

"I brought pizza!" Hailey announced when she got upstairs and into the bullpen. You, Will, and Jay had been researching grad schools for three hours. Jay had found two that still had deadlines open and didn't require the GRE, so you were working on writing essays to get into those.

After you finished the first one, you emailed the essay to Will and he edited it. You figured he'd be the best one to edit these essays because he'd had to write them to get into med school.

While Will was editing and making notes in the margins of your essay on google docs, you opened the links to the other schools that Jay had sent you. And, you had added two more to your list (making the total you would currently apply to four at the moment) when Hailey walked in with the pizza.

"Thank God," Will said and quickly closed his laptop. (You thanked God that you were working in google docs and that everything automatically saved so that his edits wouldn't be lost.)

"You're literally just editing," you said and rolled your eyes at how overdramatic your oldest brother was being. "I'm the one who has to look over the programs, make sure they're a good fit for me, and actually write them, and then I have to email--" you cut yourself off as your eyes widened in realization. "Oh, God."

"What? What's wrong?" Jay asked as he entered the break room with Hailey since he had been out in the bullpen because he was using one of Intelligence's desktops.

"I have to email my profs and ask them if they'll write me more letters of recommendation."

You hated doing this part because it meant that the application process wasn't entirely in your control. One of the letters of rec might not be emailed to the right email address or the application system wouldn't let you put in a certain recommender and then you'd have to contact the school and--

"Y/N." You hadn't even realized Hailey had crouched down in front of you. "You need a break."

"But I can't! I--"

"Y/N, some of those schools don't have deadlines until March or April. You can take half an hour to eat," Jay told you.

But you couldn't; your stomach was in knots just thinking about all the work you had to do.

"I'm not hungry."

Will looked you up and down. Of course, your physical appearance hadn't changed in two days obviously, but he knew how stress held itself in the body, in a person's posture; in their facial expressions. But most of all, he knew how much stress he had gone through during his med school application process and how some of his classmates could barely eat without throwing up because they had been so stressed out.

"Y/N, we know you're stressed out. But, you have to eat something. You can't write great statements of purpose that are gonna get you into a program without food in you, kiddo."

You sighed. "But I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"It's just nerves," Will reassured. "We just want you to eat something."

You looked at Jay, hoping for once he'd side with you and not Will. "One piece of pizza," Jay said. "And then, if you still don't want to eat, you don't have to. I'll even go get you a Sprite from the vending machine downstairs to help settle your stomach."

"And, we can talk about Outer Banks," Hailey bargained. "Me and Jay just finished the new season."

"I thought you guys had four more episodes to watch!"

"Just finished it yesterday," Jay said.

"We spent half of our RDO watching that," Hailey said.

Will just looked between the three of you. "I'll go get her the pop because I have no idea what you guys are talking about."

"It's a show on Netflix! It's really good! These kids are treasure hunting and--"

"Eat your pizza, Y/N, and then maybe you can convince me to watch it," Will told you.

You took a bite of your pizza while maintaining eye contact with Will, which made Jay burst out laughing and then Will stood up to go get your pop while muttering something about you being a creeper under his breath.

"I need a John B," you said after your second bite of pepperoni pizza. "The way he held Sarah's hand all the way up the mountain, just—ugh! I love it. At first, I thought I needed a JJ because of how he broke into Kitty Hawk for Kiara, but he's a little too crazy for me."

"Uh-huh, sure, that's why you chose John B," Jay said while rolling his eyes.

"What's that supposed the mean?"

Jay grabbed a piece of pizza and took a bite without even bothering to grab a plate. This caused Hailey to gently smack him on the arm and push a paper plate into his empty hand. He took another bite and then set the pizza on the plate. "I'm just saying, don't you like brown-haired guys more?"

"They're called brunettes, Jay. And, yes. But, how the hell did you even notice that?"

"Think of all the celebrity crushes you've had over the years, Y/N."

Of course, Will had chosen that exact moment to walk back into the break room with your pop. "Oooh, we're telling Hailey all about Y/N being a crazy teenager. I love this game."

"Like you didn't have a stash of PlayBoy magazines under your bed, Will!" you shot back.

"Did you..." Will trailed off as he looked at Jay.

You burst out laughing. "He never told me anything. But you just confirmed it! Ha!"

"Y/N's first celebrity crush was Zac Efron!" Will shouted.

"Technically, it was Troy Bolton," you corrected.

Hailey just shook her head and laughed at your banter.

"And then there was Bieber—"

"No, she liked Nick Jonas before him, remember?" Jay corrected.

"Oh, yeah," Will said. "There was Nick Jonas, then Bieber, then a couple hockey players, then 5 Seconds of Summer—"

"Specifically Luke Hemings," you butted in.

Jay laughed. "You really have no shame in this do you?"

"None at all. Continue, Will."

"And...I think that's it."

"And John B, from Outer Banks," Jay said. "That's her current one."

"Is he even a real person?" Will asked.

"Nope. Now, Hailey, if you were in Outer Banks, what character would you be?" you asked and then opened your Sprite and took another bite of pizza.

She thought for a moment. "Probably Sarah. Our dads are both pretty messed up."

She said it jokingly but also matter-of-fact. Despite this, Jay still gave her a sad look but quickly recovered to his neutral facial expression. (He knew how much Hailey hated people pitying her due to her past.)

"What about you?" you asked Jay. "Wait! You have to be John B because you have to marry Sarah and you and Hailey are married."

Jay let out a chuckle. "I mean, I guess, I was gonna pick him anyway."

"Why?" you asked.

He shrugged. "He's the leader of the group. He thinks things through more than JJ. And, I'm not as smart as Pope. Will would be Pope."

"Is that a good thing?" Will chimed in.

"Yeah," you told him. "Watch the show and you'll find out."

Will just rolled his eyes.

"Who would you be, Y/N?" Hailey asked.

"Me? Oh, I'd die in the first season. I'm not the kind of person to do crazy illegal shit."

"Oh, c'mon!" Jay groaned. "You gotta pick someone!"

"Fine. I'd be Wheezy. I'd still be helping, but not in like an illegal way."

"Fair enough."

The three of you continued talking about Outer Banks as you finished another piece of pizza and a breadstick, making the total you'd eaten while you were talking two pieces of pizza and one breadstick and, seeing as you hadn't technically had a meal since you learned about your first rejection, only snacks, you considered this a win.

You pulled your laptop back out and groaned. You didn't want to keep having to write essay after essay, but you knew you needed to because that was the only going to get into a school. Despite this, you still had that nagging thought in the back of your head that all of this was for naught and you were just going to continue to get rejection emails from all the schools you worked so hard to apply to.

You rummaged through your backpack, pretending to look for your chapstick, which you knew was there. Then, you groaned and stood up and walked to where Jay was once again seated at his desk in the bullpen.

"Jay, can I have your keys? I think I left my chapstick in your truck," you lied.

Jay fished them out of his pocket. "Here, but be quick. It's dark out."

You rolled your eyes. "You know if all of this works out, I'll be in a different state in less than eight months, right?"

"Don't remind me."

You just rolled your eyes again and made your way downstairs and out the back way to Jay's truck.

You quickly unlocked it and jumped in the backseat. You just sat there as your head spun with worry, each worry connecting to another like a spider connecting pieces of a web in your mind.

Will I have to stay at my job another year or God forbid forever because there's not much I can do with a BA in psychology?

If I don't get into a program this year, will I apply next year? And, will my profs even write me letters of recommendation next year because they won't have had me in class for two years at that point?

If I have to do this for another year, should I take a couple of classes next year so that I have other professors to write me letters of recommendation and so that I can show the schools I'm applying to that I'm still learning about the field I'm going into?

When should I start looking into schools and the process of going to school in Europe if I don't hear back from all the programs I'm working on applying to soon?

What am I going to do with my life if I can't get into a program?

You jumped when someone gently tapped on the window. Then, you scooched over so that they could open the door and come inside the truck.

"Jesus, Will!" you exclaimed when he was inside and had shut the door. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry, I would've texted you, but you left your phone inside. You find your chapstick?"

"Um...about that..." you trailed off and looked away. You knew that if you started telling him your worries, you'd break down and you really didn't have time for that as you just needed a few minutes alone and then you needed to get back inside to work on the stupid essays for these stupid applications because these other stupid schools didn't want you because you needed a stupid doctorate degree for you stupid career to make stupid money and have a stupid life.

Will nodded, quickly understanding that there hadn't been a lost tube of chapstick to begin with. "You know, I didn't match for a residency at first," he told you.

You turned to face him, even though you could barely see him because it was the middle of the night. "Really?"

"Yeah, and it was terrifying."

"But you're a doctor. You have to do a residency to be a doctor."

"Mhm," Will confirmed. "I had to do the SOAP process."

"What's that?"

"It's where all the kids who finished med school who didn't match to a residency try and apply for the ones that people didn't want or are left over."

"So, you got everyone's shitty leftovers?"

Will smiled and shook his head. "Basically. I never wanted to go into plastic surgery. It seemed so..." he trailed off while he searched for a good word to describe it. "Vain," he finally said. "Don't get me wrong, there are some people who need it because of accidents and things like that, but giving rich men's wives nose jobs, that's not what I wanted."

"So, what you're telling me is to go into another specialty if it's open? Even if I don't like it," you asked. If this is what he was getting at, his pep talk wasn't a very good one."

"Sort of," Will answered. "But, there's a bit more to the story. I always wanted to go into emergency medicine, so when a job opened up at Med, I jumped at it. So, even if there's roadblocks, you'll get the career you want; you just have to be patient. You need to be a doctor in clinical psychology for your specialty, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, and there's a lot of things you can do with a doctorate in clinical psych, right? You don't have to go specifically into neuropsych?"

"Yeah, I'll be a clinical psychologist with the doctorate so there's other stuff I can do," you confirmed.

"Okay. Then you get into a clinical psych program and you go from there. And, if you can't do your fellowship or whatever it's called--"

"Post-doc," you told him.

"Right. If you can't do your post-doc in neuropsych, then you can do it in another specialty. Once you make some money, you can always go back and do another post-doc, this time in neuropsych, okay? This whole process doesn't have to be linear to work out. And, honestly, the application part and getting in is harder than the degree itself."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, Hailey put on a pot of coffee when I came out here, so c'mon. Let's go drink some more coffee and look at more grad schools. Jay found some options in Arizona because we know you want to go where it's warm."

"Perfect." Will opened the door to get out and you scooted over to get out of Jay's truck next. "And, Will?" He turned back to look at you. "Thank you."

He smiled and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Anytime, kiddo."

***

"You have actual food tonight, right?" Jay asked two days later, Sunday night, when you grabbed your lunch box from the fridge to go to work. "Not just snacks?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, Jay." Ever since your brother noticed you weren't eating full meals, he'd been on your ass about it. But, yesterday you ate like a normal person and so far today you have, too. "Shouldn't you be finishing the game and going to bed?"

"It's at intermission. It's—"

"Don't tell me! I'll watch it at work."

"Pretty sure those sites you use to watch it are illegal, but whatever."

"Shouldn't you know for sure if they're illegal or not?"

"Well, you're not on the dark web and you're not selling anything and you're not the one uploading the games, so I'm pretty sure I can't arrest you."

"Well, that's a good thing because if I get arrested, then I can't get into grad school...not that I'm sure I'll get in now, though."

"Hey, we found what? Six programs for you to apply to? You'll get into one. But, you better get going before you're late."

"Says the man who rushes to work every morning."

"Really, it's Hailey who holds me up in the morning."

"No, it's not!" Hailey yelled from the living room. "He's the one who hogs the shower!"

"Gotta go!" you said quickly and grabbed your keys from the hook by the door before you got in the middle of their arguing.

***

About half an hour into your shift, you got a phone call asking you to come over to another building to talk to a coworker.

"I have to go talk to Tia," you told your two other coworkers.

"Tia? What does she want?" your coworker, and also one of the veteran staff at your work, Tamara, asked.

"No idea. I haven't been over to that building since the beginning of last week, so if I did something wrong, I forgot about it."

"Okay, well, see you later."

"See you," you said.

Then, you slipped on your coat and buzzed yourself out of the current building, and made the quick and chilly walk to the other building.

"Hey, where's Tia?" you asked when you walked in and saw another one of your coworkers.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," she greeted. "She's in the office."

"Okay, thanks."

You made your way into the office where Tia was sitting at the computer.

"Hey, Tia. You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah. What's your problem with my schedule?" she asked you rudely.

You didn't have a problem with her schedule per se, you just had a problem with there not being enough coverage with her schedule. And, since you worked at every building, you'd have nights when you worked here alone—which you shouldn't be doing, but management didn't care—because she worked long shifts for eight days straight, and then the other six, it would usually just be you or someone else working here alone and you had brought this up to your supervisor when he asked if you'd come across anything you wanted to fix.

"I- I don't have a problem with your schedule. It's just that sometimes there's only one person here and it gets hard in the mornings." Since you worked with kids, sometimes when you were by yourself, you'd have to get them out to the bus stop and that made it hard to do because you couldn't leave all the other kids in the building alone while you went to do that, so you'd have to call other buildings to see if they had a staff available to come help you. Contrary to popular belief, you couldn't be in two places at once.

"Yeah. And that happens to me sometimes, too. But we do it. And now because of what you said, my schedule might get changed—"

"That wasn't my intention, it was just—"

"Can I finish?" You nodded. "And now my schedule might get changed and this is the schedule that works for me. You only pick up here, so if you don't like it, don't pick up shifts here."

Tears began to prick your eyes. "I get scheduled here. I don't pick up." You took a deep breath. "My intention was just to figure out a way to get coverage, not to have your schedule get changed."

"Well, maybe you need to tell your supervisor that you don't want to be scheduled here anymore if you don't like the way we do things over here."

At this, the dam broke. You frantically wiped at your eyes. "I'm sorry. It's- It's not this. I just got rejected from grad school and it's just everything. Sorry."

At this, she softened. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Don't let anyone here make you cry, not even me. It's not worth it."

You nodded. "Yeah. Can I- can I go now?" You asked while trying to stop the tears from falling. You didn't feel like walking out of the office and having yet another one of your coworkers see you cry.

She nodded and you quickly wiped your eyes once more and walked out of the office, just willing your eyes to stay dry until you got outside.

You sniffled all the way until you got to one of the buildings the kids used for gym class during the day that you knew would be empty because they were all sleeping. You buzzed yourself in and then quickly made your way to the bathroom and locked yourself in a stall.

You leaned your head against the door. "Fuck," you muttered.

Everything about the past few days came flooding through you and you began to cry so hard that you could barely catch your breath. And, you weren't even an hour into your shift.

Your breath was coming out in short bursts as you pulled out your phone to text Tamara and tell her that you were in the gym bathrooms because you needed a minute and that you'd be back soon. Then, not caring that this was a bathroom, you slid down and leaned against the wall and pulled out a breathing app on your phone that you had for times like this. You hadn't had an anxiety attack or whatever the fuck this was that was prompting your frantic breathing in a year and a half, but you had kept the app because you knew you might need it one day. Today—well tonight—seemed to be that day.

You were focused on your breathing—breathe in through your nose, hold, breathe out through your mouth—for three minutes before your breathing returned to a semi-normal rate. Then, you continued the breathing exercise for two more minutes just to be safe.

When you closed the app, you saw that Tamara had texted you and asked if you were okay and if she needed to come over there. You told her you were on your way back to your building now.

Then, you pocketed your phone and splashed some water on your face, and dabbed it dry with some paper towel. Your eyes were still red, but at least you didn't have tear stains on your face. After taking one last deep breath, you left the bathroom and then the building and began your quick and cold walk back to the other building and the coworkers you actually enjoyed working with.

When you got back inside, you told your coworkers what had happened and then Tamara asked if you wanted a hug, which you gratefully accepted.

You knew a bigger breakdown over grad school rejection was going to happen eventually, you just didn't think it was going to happen at work.

And, if the first half of January was anything to go by, you were in for one hell of a month.

***

"Well, look who's finally awake," Will chirped when you walked into the kitchen after waking up for your day...which was everyone else's night.

"I went to bed at 10 am," you shot back. "And I don't like to talk to people when I first wake up, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right. The one time of day when you're actually quiet."

You went to flip Will off when Jay quickly butted in. "Y/N, there's leftover pasta in the fridge for you to take to work."

"And there's loukoumades for you, too," Hailey added.

"Hailey's my favorite sibling!" you exclaimed and then began to make your coffee as you drowned out the noise of Will and Jay trying to argue about why they should be your favorite sibling...well, mostly Will because Jay knew Hailey was his better half by a long shot.

Once you made your coffee and a bowl of yogurt and fruit for breakfast, you made your way back upstairs to your room to read for a while before you started getting ready for work.

***

When you took a sip of your coffee, your lips puckered in disgust. It was way too bitter and...you had forgetter creamer.

"Ugh," you groaned and then stood up from your chair. You were so cozy with your robe and slippers on and a blanket covering your lap that you almost decided to forgo your coffee, but who were you kidding, you needed that caffeine.

You grabbed your mug of now lukewarm coffee and made your way out of your room. You started down the stairs as normal until your slipper caught the edge of one of the stairs.

***

Jay, Hailey, and Will were all still sitting at the table, each enjoying a cold beer when they heard a thump, thump, thump on the stairs above them.

Jay and Hailey's reflexes kicked in just a hair faster than Will's and they sprinted over to the steps to see you laying on the landing of the stairs with coffee spilled all over you and your head against the wall.

You swear you had never seen Jay run as fast as he did then. He cursed to himself as he bounded up the stairs two at a time and quickly crouched in front of you.

"Can you move your arm?" he asked. You hadn't noticed that your arm was placed between you and the wall. You lifted up your arm and nodded.

"My coffee," you cried.

"You can make more coffee, Y/N. Did you hit your head?"

You nodded tearfully and Jay looked back at Will. Your two brothers traded places and Jay picked up your empty coffee mug—thank God it hadn't broken—and then made his way downstairs to grab the first aid kit and some towels. Hailey followed him to give Will room to work if needed and made her way to the freezer to grab an ice pack.

"Where'd you hit it?" Will asked you and you leaned forward and put your fingers on the back of your head. Will nodded and you put your hand down and he felt around the area and looked for blood. "No blood, so that's good. There is a little bump, though. Any dizziness? Nausea?" You shook your head. "Okay, good. But, I'm still gonna have you stay home from work tonight because those symptoms can have a delayed onset, so I don't want to miss something and then have you have to be rushed to the hospital while at work. I'll write you a doctor's note if I have to."

You were about to protest because if you called out now since it was only three hours until your shift, you could get written up. But, you'd only used a single one of your sick days out of the five you had and they reset in April, so you figured you'd be fine if you explained the situation. "Fine," you agreed. "Can I go back to bed then?"

"Nope. I want you to stay up for a couple of hours. It's not good for you to go to sleep right after hitting your head even if you do feel fine. After that, you can sleep all you want. I just need to see if you puke or not."

"She good? No hospital?" Jay asked since he and Hailey had been waiting at the foot of the stairs with supplies.

"No hospital. Just stay home from work and ice her head. Doesn't look like the coffee was hot enough to burn her based on her skin and her not telling me, but if she says anything, give me a call."

"I'm right here you know!"

"Oh, we know," Will said. "But, you're still under Jay's health insurance."

You rolled your eyes and then held out a hand for Will to help you up. He did and you made your way back upstairs and to your room to quickly grab a different pair of pajamas and then head to the bathroom to take a shower to get all the coffee off of yourself.

Then, you made your way back downstairs—carefully this time—and saw that Hailey had made you a new cup of coffee and had a small plate of loukoumades sitting next to it.

"After you eat those, you need to ice your head," Hailey told you.

"Uh-huh."

"C'mon, the boys are getting the tv set up for us."

"What are we watching?"

"I may or may not have convinced them to put on Outer Banks since Will still hasn't started it."

You smiled. "Yay!"

Then, you picked up your coffee and plate of Greek donuts and made your way to the couch where Jay tried to steal one of your loukoumades, but Hailey quickly swatted his hand away.

"You already had yours. Now press play, Halstead."

***

"Y/N, hey, wake up," you heard as you felt someone shaking your shoulder. In your sleep-addled brain, it took you a moment to process that it was Jay waking you up. "Y/N, can you hear me?"

"Mhm," you answered. "Wanna sleep."

"You've slept for at least twelve hours."

This got you to roll over and check the time on your phone. 5:37 pm. You had slept for over twelve hours; Jay was right.

"What time did you go to bed?" You went to answer, but then Jay stopped you. "Wait, any dizziness? Nausea? Blurry vision? You feel like your head is going to explode?"

"I feel fine."

"Okay. So, what time did you end up going to bed?"

"I fell asleep on the couch until three, and then I woke up and went on Tik Tok until five and then I went back to sleep." You yawned. "I shouldn't be tired! What the hell?"

"Just, get up and get moving around and then you'll probably wake up more."

Then, Jay left your room, but not without turning your light on which then forced you to either get up or get up out of bed and turn off the light and go back to bed. You were already up anyway, so you figured you might as well have a slow morning before going into your shift, so you decided to just get up and go downstairs to get some food and coffee.

After making yourself breakfast and a cup of coffee, you went to the bathroom before heading back to your room and saw that you had gotten a surprise.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you mumbled and then grabbed a tampon from the cabinet under the sink. You had just gotten your period two weeks ago, you weren't supposed to get it again! But, at least the panic attack made sense now.

You left the bathroom to once again be met with Jay.

"You didn't puke in there, did you?" he asked. "You were in there for a while."

"Jesus Christ, let me guess? Will put you up to this?"

"Yup. He told me to monitor you closely since you slept so long."

"But you still went to work today and left me by myself," you said. "And for your information, I got my period. So now I have a reason why I had a panic attack at work the other night and I'm not just crazy."

You went to grab your food from the counter but were stopped from going up to your room by your brother.

"Whoa, you had a panic attack at work? Why didn't you tell me? Or Hailey? Or Will?"

Shit. You had forgotten that you just went straight to bed after that shift and didn't tell anyone.

You sighed and sat down at the table with your food and coffee instead of going upstairs. "Because I was tired after work and I went right to bed and then I just forgot to tell you. I journaled about it though."

"That's good. Do you still want to talk about it?" he asked.

So, you launched into the story of your night of being chewed out by Tia and then having a panic attack in the bathroom.

"She had no right to talk to you like that, you know," Jay said once you were finally finished.

"I know. And she's on my shit list for it." You would've said she's on my fucking shit list for it, but you knew Jay hated when you dropped the f-bomb. A year ago, he would've hated you swearing in any capacity, but now you thought that he was finally coming to terms with the fact that you were a grown woman and would swear whether he liked it or not and whether he heard you or not.

"I knew the mental breakdown from all this school stuff was gonna come sooner or later, but I didn't think it was gonna happen at work."

Jay nodded; he honestly had no idea what to say at this moment. Did he agree? Comfort you? Finally, he settled on a mixture between comfort and encouragement while you focused on blowing on your coffee to make sure that it wasn't too hot.

"Hey, you'll get through this, alright? Just keep applying. You didn't work your ass off in school for nothing. And, it's their loss if they don't want you."

You smiled. Jay was oblivious to some things, but he always knew just what to say when you needed a pick me up.

"Thanks, Jay."

"Anytime, kid."

***

You were going to lose your damn mind. You had all this stuff to do and submit and one of the people who said that they'd write you letters of recommendation for your PhD programs said that they're really busy and they might not be able to get to the ones for the PsyD programs you were applying to. And Jay and Will heard all your bitching about this. How fucking hard was it for her to change the date and the name of the school on the letter and send it in? Unbelievable.

You couldn't think of anyone and you were running out of time to get these in.

"Fuck," you muttered.

You heard a knock on your door. "Y/N? You still up in there?"

Shit. You forgot it was Jay and Hailey's RDO today.

"Yeah, why?"

It was only half an hour past the normal time you'd be sleeping anyway.

"Me and Hailey are going out for breakfast. You wanna come? Or we can bring something back for you."

"Bring something back," you said quickly. You were not in a state to be out right now because you knew the minute that you saw lots of people, you were going to have a full-fledged breakdown.

"Okay, I'll send the menu so you can tell me what you want. Goodnight."

"Night," you answered.

***

"I'm just gonna go check on her," Jay said when Hailey asked him why he was walking towards your room instead of their room once they'd gotten home from going out for breakfast. The two had planned on having a lazy day of watching tv on the couch along with a few beers. And, instead of going to change into comfy clothes right away, Jay decided to take a peek into your room.

The sight he saw when he cracked open your door broke his heart.

You were pacing your room and pulling at the roots of your hair while your breathing came out in short bursts.

"Hey, hey," Jay said quickly as he opened the door wider and made his way into your room.

You turned around at the sound of his voice. "I- I—"

"Don't try and talk. Let's just sit down, okay?"

You nodded and he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and helped lead to your bed.

You both sat down and Jay offered you his hand for you to squeeze. You took it.

"Breathing app," you told him through your rapid breathing. "On—" Breath. "—Phone." Breath.

"Say cheese," Jay said as he put the phone in front of you, screen-facing, so that he could open it. "What's it called?"

"Ti-ide," you said and grabbed his arm.

"Tide?" You nodded. "I gotcha, I gotcha," he said and then sat down next to you and held the phone between the two of you. "In," he narrated as you watched the circle on the app expand. "Hold..." Pause. "Exhale." The circle deflated.

"It's not--"

"Just keep breathing," Jay encouraged. "Think of a bubble, just like on the app."

You continued to hold on to his arm and continued to follow the breathing on the app for six more minutes.

Jay handed your phone back to you after he saw your breathing had evened out and you confirmed you were okay.

"Is this what happened at work the other night?" he asked gently.

You nodded. "I think I need to go to the doctor. I can't keep living like this, Jay!"

"I know you can't. And I'll do everything in my power to help you. But, don't you mean therapy?"

"No, a doctor. My period's being all weird and my anxiety's bad and maybe I need to be on Xanax or something. I can't keep doing this!"

"I know. Do you know why this happened? For my PTSD, there's always a trigger, was there one for you?"

"Just all this grad school stuff."

"Still can't think of anyone else to write you a letter?" You shook your head. "Could you use your supervisor at work?"

"Probably," you answered. "Maybe I'll use my old one from when I was on dayshift though because I like her better."

"Okay, send her an email. The worst she can say is no."

"And then I'll have to think of another person--"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, just email her and then schedule a doctor's appointment. You should be able to do it online. And, me and Hailey got you some food so come out and grab it whenever you're ready. I'll put it in the fridge for you."

"Thanks, Jay."

He didn't know if you meant the help with the panic attack or the help with grad school or getting you food, but no matter which one you were thanking him for, the answer was still the same: "Anytime, kid."

***

"Okay, Y/N," Hannah said when you came to see her in the ED one day. (This was a planned appointment, but you knew she could possibly have to run out of the appointment if she is needed in the ED.) "So it says here in your online chart that you wanted to come in because of irregular periods and anxiety?"

"Yeah," you answered.

"And how long have your periods been irregular?"

"A month and a half, two months," you answered. "Around the time I started getting rejection letters for grad school."

"Yeah, Will's told me you've been applying. I bet that's really stressful."

"Yeah, it is. And now I have to apply to different degree programs because I didn't get into Ph.D. programs, so it's been a lot."

"Well, stress can play a big role in our cycle. So, what I'm gonna do is ask you some questions and then do the physical exam, see if there's anything I can find that could be causing this. I also want to run some labs just to check your blood work."

"Okay, but does it have to be fasted?" you asked. "Because I just came from work, so there's food in my system."

"I'd be concerned if there wasn't food in your system after working all night," Hannah joked. "But no, it doesn't have to be fasted. I mainly want to get your thyroid levels checked.

"Now, the anxiety, tell me about that. Is it more general? Is it panic attacks? When does the anxiety start? That kind of thing."

"Um, it's more general, I guess. I've only had two panic attacks, but I get like anxiety attacks when I see that there's gonna be a lot of people."

"A lot of people like what? Can you give me an example?"

"Like if I'm at the gym and there's a lot of people there, then I want to leave because I'm getting anxious."

"Okay, so in looking at your chart, I saw that you're on an antidepressant. So, based on what you just told me, there are two options. The first is that I can put you on hydroxyzine, which is an anti-anxiety medication that you can just take as needed. Or, I can increase your dosage of antidepressants and get you set up with one of our social workers here at the hospital who can teach you some coping skills or refer you to a therapist," Dr. Asher told you.

"Is there any way my body could constantly be PMS-ing? Because I used to get anxious around my period and now I'm having my period a lot more, so could that be it?" you asked.

"It definitely could be, which is why I want to have you get your labs done so we check your thyroid levels. But, if you don't want to do anything with your meds, we can always just have you meet with the social worker and see how that goes."

"What would you recommend? In terms of the hydroxyzine?" you asked.

"You've told me you've only had two panic attacks so far, so based on that, I think you could do either way with the medication. We could always increase your antidepressants and then when I follow up with you in a month, if nothing's changed, we can get you some hydroxyzine. It's completely up to you."

"Okay, let's just up my meds for now and if I need to go on the hydroxyzine later, I can."

"Okay, perfect, let me go get someone to get those labs done and then you're free to go."

"Thanks, Hannah."

***

3 days later

When you woke up, you saw that you had a voicemail and that it was from Hannah. You assumed it was regarding your labs.

"Hi, Y/N, it's Doctor Asher. I have some information I'd like to share with you concerning your test results from the blood panel that was done. These charts are also available in your online chart if you would like to see them. Please call me back when you get the chance. And if I don't answer your call, please leave a message with the best time that you can be reached. Have a good day."

You quickly logged into your chart to see the results yourself since you knew that your results would be there.

What you saw was something that you assumed might be the problem based on the research you had done on your own since you went to see Hannah a few days ago. (There was no way in hell you were talking to Will about this, and you had to beg and plead with Jay to convince him not to talk to Will about it. But, in the end, he agreed because you cited that he wouldn't be able to give you the check-up in the ED anyway since he was family, and by law, he couldn't do that. And, you also promised that if it was anything serious or if there was anything wrong at all, you would loop Will in yourself or that you would give Jay permission to loop him in.)

Your thyroid levels were slightly elevated, and in the notes, it said that during the physical exam, your thyroid did feel a bit enlarged. Because of this, Dr. Asher would recommend having an ultrasound of the thyroid...At least, that's what you gathered from all the medical jargon you read. And, because of said jargon, you assumed that this is why Hannah wanted you to call her back so that she could explain it to you.

You called her back.

"Hello, this is Dr. Asher," she greeted when she picked up.

"Hey, Hannah, it's Y/N Halstead. I'm calling because you told me you had my test results back."

"Yes, I do. Just give me one second to get it pulled up here..." There was a pause on the line and you could hear her typing away on the computer. "Here it is. Did you get a chance to look at your results from your online chart yet? If not, I can read the results to you over the phone."

"I looked at them," you told her.

"Okay, so what I'm going to do is just break down the results for you and then tell you the next step. Feel free to stop me at any time with any questions, okay, Y/N?"

"Okay, yeah."

She broke down the results for you and they were exactly what you had assumed from your online chart...and what was actually written in your online chart. But, you assumed that it was just standard protocol for her to have to break down the results to you over the phone or in person.

"So we just want to get an ultrasound of your thyroid to see if the thyroid is actually enlarged since your thyroid hormone levels were slightly elevated and your thyroid gland was slightly enlarged from what I gathered from the physical exam," Hannah finished.

"So, what happens now? Like, after the ultrasound?" you asked.

"If the thyroid isn't enlarged, then we just continue what we talked about, taking the increased dose of Zoloft and then meeting with the social worker and following up with me in a month about the anxiety and the irregular periods," she told you. "But, if the thyroid is enlarged, we'd put you on medication for that so that your levels can stabilize."

"Okay."

"Any more questions?"

"Nope," you answered.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna give you the number for scheduling so that we can get you scheduled for that ultrasound of the thyroid. But, feel free to call me or send me a message on your online chart if you have any other questions or concerns, okay?"

"Okay, thanks, Hannah."

"No problem, Y/N."

She gave you the number and told you to have a good day and then you said the same to her and ended the call.

You grabbed your book and started to walk upstairs to tell Jay when you thought of something: he might not even realize that you could get an ultrasound for other things besides being pregnant. Your other brother knew this, but you weren't sure if this one did.

These next few minutes were going to be really interesting.

***

At least, you thought it was going to be the next few minutes. Turns out, you had a few hours to talk to Jay because all he told you was a raid went sideways. Granted, it was mid-week, and for some reason, crime was slow during on Monday and Tuesday and ramped up a bit on Jay and Hailey's RDO, which was Wednesday, and they'd usually come back on Thursday to a full-fledged case. It was almost like criminals hated Mondays as much as the rest of the world did.

So, to calm your nerves about grad school and everything else that was a fucking mess in your life, you decided to make yourself—and Jay and Hailey—pasta salad with chicken for dinner.

You turned on one of the tv shows you had to catch up on and then started boiling the water for the pasta and took the veggies out of the fridge along with a cutting board from the cabinet and a knife from the knife block to start chopping up the veggies.

***

An hour later, you had let the chicken nuggets and the pasta cool in the fridge for half an hour and had just finished cutting up the chicken nuggets and were about to mix everything together when the door opened.

"Hey, I made pasta salad for dinner—" You turned. "Will? What are you doing here? I thought you were Jay or Hailey."

"Jay told me you had a doctor's appointment a couple days ago and I figured I'd come over and check you out, see what's the matter, and then start the Hawks game with you guys."

"And Jay knows you're coming over? Did he tell you to come over? Or just tell you I had a doctor's appointment?" you asked, stopping your stirring of the pasta salad so that you could give him your full attention...and to make sure you were making eye contact to try and figure out if he was lying to you or not.

"He just told me you had a doctor's appointment the other day and that he's worried about you. I told him I'd come and check you out, but that's all he told me." Will's phone buzzed. "Speak of the devil. It's Jay. Said he and Hailey are picking up Gino's on the way home." He glanced at the bowl in front of you. "But, it looks like you already made something, so..."

"I'll just save it for lunch for the next couple of days; I'm not passing up Gino's pizza." Will tapped his phone screen a few times. "What did you just tell him?" you asked and took the spoon from the pasta salad that you had begun to stir once again and pointed it at him.

"Just gave him a thumbs up. Now, tell me what's going on, and finish making your food so I can give you a check-up."

"Don't really wanna tell you," you mumbled.

"Hey, whatever it is, I promise you I've seen worse. Nothing will phase me. Unless you're pregnant. Then there might be some issues, more with Jay than with me, but still."

"It's the exact opposite of being pregnant."

"So, you're not pregnant?"

"No, I'm not pregnant, Will! Jesus."

"That's the same thing that Mary thought when she was pregnant with Jesus."

"Will!"

"Fine, fine. I won't push you. But, I can promise you that whatever it is, I've seen worse. Plus, If you don't tell me, I'll just convince Jay to tell me."

You sighed. Jay still didn't know that you needed an ultrasound for your thyroid, so maybe telling Will first would help so that Jay doesn't pop off on you when he hears the word ultrasound and his brain automatically goes to pregnancy.

"Just, let me stir this and cover it and put it in the fridge first."

Will nodded and sat down and you finished stirring the pesto into the pasta salad and then covered it with Saran Wrap and placed it on a shelf in the fridge.

Then, you sat down in your usual spot at the table.

"I've been getting my period a lot," you told him.

Will nodded, his eyebrows furrowing as you knew his brain was running through all the possible medical problems that have period issues as one of their symptoms. "How much is a lot? Like, constantly? And when did it start?"

So you went into the whole spiel you had already told Hannah, including the increased anxiety and what you and Hannah had decided to do about it.

"Does Jay know about this?" Will asked after you were finished.

"He knows about everything except the ultrasound. I just got those results a few hours ago."

"Do you have them on your online chart?" Will asked and you nodded. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Knock yourself out," you told him and then opened your phone and navigated to your test results on your online chart and then passed him your phone.

You sat in silence for a minute while Will looked over the results.

"So, you need an ultrasound of your thyroid?" he asked, even though he already knew that it was recommended from what he read on your chart, he didn't know if you had agreed to it.

"Yeah. I was gonna ask you to come with me though after I told Jay and Hailey tonight because I've never had an ultrasound done before," you said.

"Of course, I'll come. Just tell me the date and time and even if I'm working, I'm sure Maggie can cover for me after I explain what's going on. You want me to tell you what happens at an ultrasound?"

"I know what happens," you answered. "They put gel on me and then they put this wand thingy over top so that they can look at my insides."

Will stifled a laugh at how you described it, but he had to give it to you, you were right. "That's exactly what happens. Now, can I feel your neck so I can see if I can feel if your thyroid is enlarged?"

"On one condition." He cocked an eyebrow at you, silently urging you to continue. "You have to tell Jay that I'm getting an ultrasound because he'll flip out and think I'm pregnant if you say it."

"Deal."

***

"Anything from the doctor?" Jay asked as he put a slice of deep-dish pizza on your plate and then passed it to you.

"Which one?" you asked and looked at Will.

"I mean, did you tell him what's going on?"

"I did," you confirmed.

Now Jay's attention was wholly on Will. "So, what do you think is going on?" Jay asked Will.

"Well, I wasn't the one who examined her, but I did what I could here and read the results of her thyroid test."

"And what did they say?"

"I'm right here, guys!" you exclaimed, causing Hailey to laugh.

Jay turned to you. "Yeah, but you're not a doctor, so I want to hear it from someone who understands doctor language himself."

"Technically, it's medical terminology," you muttered and then began eating your pizza, curious as to how Will was going to reveal to your non-doctor brother that you were going to have an ultrasound and the reason for it was not because you were pregnant.

"She has to get an ultrasound," was what Will decided on.

"What?!" Jay exclaimed. "I thought you couldn't get your period when you're—"

"She's not pregnant, Jay! She needs an ultrasound of her thyroid," Will clarified.

Hailey was just laughing at how stupid her husband was while you just rolled your eyes. "I could've done that," you told Will.

"And I should've taken a video! That was priceless!" Hailey chimed in.

"And she needs an ultrasound because...?" Jay prompted Will.

And so Will launched into the details that he was better fit to explain than you were while you just ate your pizza.

"And you'll come to the ultrasound with me?" you asked Will once again, just to double-check. "I've never had one done before and what if something's really wrong with me?"

"First off, the worst case scenario is that you have to go on a medication for your thyroid," Will began. "And, yes, I'll go with you. Just tell me the time and date and I'll come and wait with you. I don't think I can go in, since the rooms are pretty small in radiology and you're not a minor, but I'll be in the waiting area the whole time."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And if it's a day I'm working, I'm sure Maggie could cover for me," he repeated.

"Okay."

"So, how's the applications coming?" Will asked.

You groaned. "Ugh, don't remind me. I've submitted all of them except I just have to resend my transcripts to one of them in Arizona because I sent it to the wrong email address."

"How do you send it to the wrong email address?" Jay asked.

"He wouldn't know because he didn't go to college," Will fake whispered to his sister-in-law who was sitting next to him. Jay just rolled his eyes.

"I sent it to the psych department, not the graduate admissions committee," you answered.

Jay nodded. "Any word from the school in Hawaii yet?"

"Nope. You'd know if there was."

"You just want to go to Hawaii, babe," Hailey said.

"Yeah, and? Beats winters in Chicago."

"And it's super expensive, so hopefully I'll get assistantships or scholarships," you said.

"What about the one in Chicago, Y/N?" Hailey asked. "I know that's bottom of your list because it's cold and because Jay would pressure you to stay at home—"

"I would not!"

"Yes, you would!" you, Will, and Hailey yelled, causing Jay's eyes to widen.

"Uh, that was freaky. How about you guys never do that again, okay?" Jay said. "I thought it was the beginning of February; not Halloween."

"Hailey, I don't know what you see in him," you told her, causing Jay's jaw to drop.

"Hey! For your information—"

"I didn't hear back from anyone yet," you said loudly, cutting Jay off before he said something that would discreetly hint at his sex life with Hailey. "And when I do, I'll tell you guys. Now, can we finish eating and watch the game? I really don't want to have to think about this more than I have to."

Hailey nodded in understanding, since she too suffered from anxiety and then she proceeded to tell the story of the antics that Adam and Kevin had been up to today in the bullpen while everyone had been listening to the wire for their latest case (which they now had a lead on and would be picking up tomorrow, hence Jay and Hailey getting home later than usual).

***

One week later

"So, Y/N, tell me about what's going on," the social worker, Marsha, asked you at 12:45 pm that afternoon as you sat in her office for your scheduled appointment on your day off (as in, you hadn't had to work the night before, but had to work tonight. Even Jay got confused with your schedule sometimes. Will, on the other hand, understood since he had worked many a night shift during his residency).

And so, you launched into the story about grad school and anxiety.

"So, I can definitely refer you to a therapist if you would like that," Marsha said. "Or, I can work with you and teach you skills to manage your anxiety."

You'd always had some anxiety, it had just increased in recent weeks because of the rejections you'd gotten and all the added stress of trying to find another program that still had open applications.

"I think I want to learn some skills," you answered. "Seems like this is just gonna be something I have to live with."

"Ok, so I want to tell you about anxiety and why it happens and how it's sometimes a good thing and then we can move on to some skills you've tried..."

***

"And I'm gonna give you some homework this week," Marsha said at the end of your session. She passed you a piece of paper. "All I want you to do is notice when you have anxiety and what the physical symptoms are. You don't have to write them on this piece of paper; it's just a list of possible physical symptoms and the anxiety pyramid that we talked about if you want to reference them if you want. All I want you to do is notice when your anxiety flares up. Then, we can figure out what to do in these types of situations."

"Okay, sounds good," you told her.

Then, she stood up and you followed her out of her office and back into the waiting room. "You know your way out from here?" she asked.

"Yup," you answered.

When in reality, you didn't. But, Will said he'd meet you outside the waiting room doors at 1:50 to go with you to your ultrasound appointment in the radiology wing, and it was currently 1:55.

"You're not in your scrubs," you said when you saw him right when you opened the doors to the hallway.

"Nope. Ms. Goodwin gave me a half day today, so we can get lunch after if you want."

"As long as we can get coffee for me to bring to work, sure." You noticed his backpack. "Can you put these in here?" you asked, holding the two pieces of paper out to him. "I only brought my lanyard with all my keys and stuff."

"Yup." He took the papers from you and put down his backpack and put the papers inside. "You ready?"

"Yeah. You promise it won't hurt?" you asked, slightly nervous.

"I promise. It might just feel a little cold at first."

***

"See? I told you it wouldn't be so bad," Will said once you were out of the ultrasound.

"Yeah. But I won't know the results for a few days so can you—"

"I'm not gonna look at your chart and tell you the results," Will stated as you exited the waiting room.

"But why not? I give you full permission so it's not against HIPAA."

"Technically, it is because I can't just go in there and look at a family member's chart. That, and I'm not a radiologist. When they send you the results, I can look them over if you let me see them. But, before then, I can't. And, I'd trust a radiologist's opinion on this more than mine."

"Fine. Now, how about IHOP for lunch?"

"Already a step ahead of you. It'll be ready for pickup in ten minutes."

"And you got me the pancakes I like?" you asked and narrowed your eyes at him.

"Yes, I got you the cinnamon roll ones."

You broke out into a smile. "You're my favorite brother...just don't tell Jay that. He thinks he's the favorite."

***

One week later, late February

You got your results back. After skimming them, you figured you'd understood them, but wanted to call Will just in case. And he confirmed it. There was nothing wrong with your thyroid.

"So it's all in my head?" you asked. "My body hates me because I'm stressed? God, I can't even do basic human functions right."

"Y/N, what did I tell you? It's normal to be stressed out like this. It's a big thing," Will said over the phone.

"Don't you think I know that?! This is my whole career here! My whole life!" You took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"It's okay," he said. "You're super stressed out. But, you'll get in somewhere."

"Yeah, that's what everyone keeps saying." Then, your phone vibrated. "Hang on. That might be a school."

"They're calling you? That's a good sign, Y/N."

"They're not calling me; I put their emails as important so it'll notify me. I'm putting you on speaker while I read this."

You quickly put Will on speaker and then navigated to your emails. "It's the one in Hawaii," you told him. You held your breath as you opened the email. You skimmed it. And you stayed silent.

"What? What's it say?"

"I didn't get in," you said quietly.

"Aw, man. I'm sorry, kiddo. But, you still have five more to hear back from."

"Yeah. I just...I really wanted to go to school in Hawaii," you lamented. "I know it was a long shot to get in because I missed their priority deadline because I was still waiting on my Ph.D. application results, but still."

"Hey, look at it this way," Will began, "when you're making bank as a world-renowned neuropsychologist, you'll have more than enough money to vacation there a few times a year. Just make sure you don't forget to bring your favorite brother with you."

You rolled your eyes. "I dunno about world-renowned."

"Fine. USA-renowned."

"Goodbye, Will," you laughed.

"Bye, kiddo. Have a good night at work. Maybe drink a glass of wine before going to work. Just... don't tell Jay I said that. You've got what, seven hours before your shift?"

"That's actually a good idea. I'll swipe some of Hailey's pink Moscato. She's fine with it. She barely drinks it anyway."

"Alright, just one glass," Will reiterated.

"Bye, Will."

***

Two weeks later, early March

You woke up and checked the time. 2 pm. You still had two hours to sleep until your alarm went off. But, as was customary for the past two months, you navigated to your emails.

There, at the top, was one from Southern Arizona University.

You felt like you couldn't breathe as you opened the email.

Hello,

We have reviewed your application, evaluated your credentials and letters of recommendation, and would like to invite you to interview in person for the Doctoral program (Psy. D.) in Clinical Psychology at the SAU campus.

Your jaw dropped as you continued reading the finer details such as the date, time, location, and how to RSVP.

Today was Wednesday, Jay and Hailey's RDO.

You ran out of your room.

"Jay! Jay! Jay!" you yelled.

He immediately woke up from where he had been dozing off on the couch with Hailey next to him who had been wide awake. She grabbed her phone while he jumped up.

"What? What's wrong? What hurts?" he asked as he quickly looked you over.

"No, no nothing's wrong! I got an interview with Southern Arizona! It's in person in two weeks!"

"That's great, Y/N!" Hailey said at the same time that Jay said, "See? I told you that you'd get in somewhere!"

"I didn't get in yet, Jay," you told him.

"I know, but you're still one step closer."

You pulled out your phone. "I know Will's working, but I gotta text him and tell him!"

Hailey groaned as she looked at her phone's calendar. "Shit, Jay. We have that mandatory training that week for our detective's recertification."

Jay threw his head back and groaned. "It's not even that important. Voight and Platt will let us out of it."

"You know this isn't their call. It's the Ivory Tower that schedules this one. And it's the last one of the quarter. We don't go to this one..."

"We can't work until mid-April at the earliest. We'll be suspended," Jay finished.

"Exactly."

"Will can come with me," you said. "I can't just not go and I'm not going to Arizona by myself."

"Yeah, even if Will has to work, we'd find someone to bring you," Jay said. "Maybe Kim as a backup. No way in hell are you going to Arizona by yourself, you're damn right about that."

"Listen, we'll figure out the logistics of everything later," Hailey said. "For now, you just go back to bed so you're not too tired at work and then focus on being prepared for your interview. Just forward the email to me and Jay so we have the right place and date and time and we'll get everything figured out, okay?"

You smiled. "Okay."

"Now go back to sleep. You're going to Arizona for that interview no matter what," she reassured you.

"And, you're gonna do great," Jay added.

"I haven't even prepped for this yet."

"Still, I know you," Jay started. "You're gonna practice and know everything and then you'll do great. Now try and get some sleep before you have to go in tonight."

You nodded and turned around, still with a giant smile plastered on your face.

***

Five days later, Monday

You rolled over and checked the time. Fifteen minutes until you planned to get up, so you knew you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep no matter how hard you tried.

You immediately navigated to your emails as you had done for the past two months.

There, at the top, was one from Kansas City Health College and University in Missouri.

Hi, Y/N!

We have reviewed your application, and the committee is interested in offering you an opportunity to interview. Are you available this week or next?

Your jaw dropped and you broke out into a smile.

Another school wanted you! You might have options now!

You knew Hailey and Jay were unlikely to be home right now, so you went to your text messages and opened the group chat between you, Jay, Hailey, and Will.

I got an interview for Kansas City! you wrote.

Not even fifteen seconds later, your phone rang.

"Did you get my text?" you asked when you answered Will's phone call.

"I did," Will confirmed. "Good job! But, is the interview in-person?"

"I don't know," you answered. "I'll email them."

"Okay, just let me know. They approved my PTO request to come to Arizona with you in a couple weeks, but I don't know if I can swing another vacation. Jay or Hailey might have to go with you to this one."

"Okay, and it's an eight-hour drive from here, so we don't have to fly there if the interview is in-person."

"It seems short now, but it won't feel that way when you're driving for that long."

You rolled your eyes. "Uh-huh. Did you look up flight tickets for Arizona yet?"

"That's what I was doing before I called you. Is it your weekend off before the interview or after the interview?"

"Before the interview," you told him.

"Okay. I work a shift on Saturday, so the earliest we could fly out is Sunday morning. Then we have all day Monday to look at Pheonix and apartments and stuff and Tuesday you have to interview and we could fly home Wednesday or Thursday. How long did you take off for?"

"I have to go back into work that Thursday night."

"Okay, so we'll fly back Wednesday night, then you can sleep all day Thursday because my next shift is on Friday."

"Okay. And, I can stay at your house the night before if it's an early flight, right? I am not driving to your house at 3 am. Or you can sleep on the couch here."

"If it's early, it's probably better that you stay over here because I won't get home from work until 8:30 and then I'll probably have last-minute stuff to do. You know how it is."

"Yeah."

"Okay, well I'm gonna go so you email them and I can keep looking up flights. I'll let you know everything when I figure it all out."

"Sounds good."

Then, the two of you said your goodbyes and you emailed the school and responded to Jay and Hailey's congratulations texts.

Even if it was only two interviews out of the eleven schools total you had applied to so far, you were getting somewhere.

***

Four days later, Friday, day of virtual Kansas City interview

You opened the fridge and grabbed a hard seltzer just when you heard someone clearing their throat. You turned around with a sheepish expression on your face to see Jay standing there.

"So, we're drinking at 7:30 in the morning now, are we?" he asked.

"Your 7:30 in the morning is my 7:30 at night," you told him. "And, I have my interview later. Need something to calm my nerves before I go to bed."

"You've practiced more than enough; you'll do great. You don't need alcohol to calm your nerves."

He was right of course, on both fronts, but you weren't going to tell him that. You had researched questions you might be asked during your interview and then wrote down your answers and quizzed yourself multiple times until you were confident that you knew everything. You even had your coworkers quiz you on them last night and had Jay quiz you on them Wednesday night so that you knew for a fact that you knew everything. There were obviously questions that could come up that you weren't prepared for, but you had prepared for it as best you could with the information you currently had.

"I know," you begrudgingly agreed. "But still, let me do this. It's not like you haven't drank to calm your nerves before."

"She's got a point, Jay," Hailey said, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and maneuvering around Jay to get to the counter and begin making herself a cup of coffee.

"Why are you always on her side?" he asked.

"Technically, I'm not taking sides, just stating a fact. Let her have the drink. It's not like she's gonna get drunk. She's too smart to get drunk hours before her interview anyway."

"Thanks, Hailey," you said and then walked past Jay, who made no move to argue with you.

"Just, remember to put the can in the recycling when you wake up. And good luck with the interview later. Don't miss your alarm," he told you.

"I won't. I set one for like every minute from when I need to wake up to ten minutes after," you reassured.

And, when you made your way to your room, you could've sworn you heard Jay whsiper something along the lines of You're gonna be the death of me? You know that, right? to Hailey.

***

You felt like the interview went well. There were only two questions you hadn't practiced answering: (1) tell me about working with people from diverse backgrounds and (2) tell me about a time you had too much on your plate. How did you go about handling that?

Not to toot your own horn, but you felt like you gave pretty good answers to those questions despite being under pressure and not having practiced those beforehand.

Now though, it was time to calm down and try to go back to sleep for a few more hours before work. You had only gotten five hours of sleep before the interview and wanted to get at least another three before having to wake up again, do your morning routine, and go back to work.

So, now you needed to calm down and fall asleep without taking melatonin. So, you decided to go take a nice hot shower.

You didn't take long, only about fifteen minutes, and the minute you went and sat down in your bed to read to try and get your adrenaline to go down a bit more, your phone rang.

Will.

"Hey," you answered.

"So, how'd it go?" he asked. Honestly, he seemed more excited to talk about this than you did.

It was at this moment that you actually grasped how well you might have actually done during the interview phase.

"It actually went really well! There were only two questions I didn't know the answer to."

And then, you talked to Will about what the questions were and the answers you gave so that you could be prepared for your interview with SAU in a little under two weeks.

"Well, I'm gonna let you go so you can get some sleep, okay?" he said.

"Yeah. Hopefully reading for a bit will make me tired. I already took a hot shower to calm down, and it's calmed me just a little bit."

"It's the nerves," Will began. "You've been trying to get to this point for so long and all your adrenaline just hit you. You'll crash soon and sleep hard, though. Go, I dunno, make some tea to drink while you read or something," he suggested.

"That's actually a good idea. Thanks, Will."

"Anytime, kiddo. Now try and get some sleep. Make sure to text Jay and Hailey that the interview went well too because they probably want to know even if they're out chasing criminals all over the place."

"Doubt they could get to their phone to see the text if they're chasing people," you pointed out.

"You know what I mean. Now get some sleep."

***

5 days later, Wednesday

You woke up to someone gently touching your shoulder and saying your name.

"Y/N, you okay?"

Jay.

You grumbled, "Mhm. Why?"

"It's ten o'clock at night," he answered.

You rolled over and touched your phone, causing the screen to illuminate. Lo and behold, Jay was right. 10:02 pm.

You had worked six days straight since it had been your weekend on, and normally after these long stretches, you did sleep like ten hours, but you had never slept twelve. Granted, you did go to bed at around 10 am instead of your usual 8:30 because you had a doctor's appointment to follow up on your irregular periods (which were getting back to normal finally) and then you woke up around 1 pm for about an hour, but still, it was weird that you had slept this long.

"Guess I was just tired," you said. "I'll get up soon."

"Don't sleep all night. That's gonna mess you up for your shift tomorrow night."

"I know, Jay. I've been on nights for eight months now; I think I know what I'm doing."

"Okay, well, there's dinner in the fridge if you want some."

"Thanks."

Then, he left your room and you turned on your bedside lamp and sat up in bed, and opened your phone.

As was normal for you now, you navigated to your emails to see if you had heard back from any schools.

A few emails down was one that made your breath catch in your throat and your hands begin to shake.

From: Kansas City Health College and University

Subject line: Update KCHCU Admissions

You opened it and there was what looked to be a scanned document with the school's logo on top and the very first word was bolded and in cursive.

Congratulations!

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. You felt your heart beating out of your chest.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted *with a Conditional Acceptance* to our program of: Doctor of Clinical Psychology (PsyD) for the Academic Year 2023-2024.

We hope this is one of many achievements in your professional career as a result of your continuous efforts.

*Please be aware that this is not your official acceptance notification. Official acceptance letters will be sent out upon completion of the required documents. Please fill out the attached documents as soon as possible.*

Sincerely,

The Admissions Office at Kansas City Health College and University.

A huge smile formed on your face as you shot out of bed and ran to Jay and Hailey's bedroom.

You quickly knocked on the door. "Nobody better be naked in there because I'm coming in!"

Without waiting for a reply, you opened the door. And, luckily, the only piece of clothing Jay was missing was a shirt (and you could see this because he had quickly sat up in bed and turned on his bedside lamp just as you opened the door).

"Some of us have to work in the morning, you know," Jay said.

At this, Hailey walked out of the bathroom, clad in her pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with her hair wrapped in a towel.

"You probably laid down two seconds before she knocked on the door," Hailey said.

"Technically, it was ten seconds," Jay sassed.

"Yeah, yeah," you said dismissively. "But I checked my emails and I got into Kansas City!" you exclaimed.

Hailey gasped. "Yay! Congratulations!" Then she made her way over to you and gave you a hug.

"See, I told you you could do it," Jay said and stood up and hugged you, too. "But, your first pick is still Arizona, right?"

"Yup," you told him. "But at least I have a backup school now if I don't get into SAU."

"So, what do you have to do now?"

"Fill out some documents." You passed him your phone. "Here's the email."

Jay told you to make sure you send in the documents by the deadline, which caused you to roll your eyes.

"Don't you have to pay something to secure your spot?" he asked.

"I think so," you said. "But it shouldn't be a ton, so if I get into SAU and have to tell them I decided to go to another school, I shouldn't be losing out on too much."

"Okay, good. See, I told you you'd get in somewhere."

"And I still have another interview."

"And you better text Will before he gets mad he had to hear it from one of us," Hailey pointed out.

"Oh, yeah," Jay agreed. "You better do that."

"I'll do that right now. Get some sleep, you guys."

"Night, Y/N, I'm so proud of you," Hailey said and gave you another hug.

"Night, kid," Jay said and gave you another hug as well.

Then, you made your way out of their room and into the kitchen to make yourself some food and coffee. As you were waiting for your coffee to finish brewing though, you made sure to text Will to let him know that you had at least gotten into one school, even if you considered it your backup school.

***

4 days later, Sunday

Your alarm sounded at 3:30 am and you silently cursed Will for wanting to get out on the first flight available. You rolled over and groaned into your pillow, but then quickly decided to get up because you knew if you kept laying down, you'd fall back to sleep and then Will would have to wake you up and you'd have to rush or you'd end up missing your flight altogether.

You heard the shower running as you grabbed your overnight oats from the fridge and then popped a pod into the Keurig.

Ten minutes later, you were rubbing your eyes and trying to stay awake while finishing your coffee when Will came into the kitchen.

"Morning," he greeted.

You groaned in response, looked up, and took another sip of your coffee. "I only slept five hours."

"And, I only slept three."

"That's not healthy for you."

"Neither is five."

You glared at him and he just smiled.

"Do you have Dramamine?" you asked.

"In my backpack. You should probably take it when we get to the airport, though."

"As long as I can get more coffee at the airport."

"You and me both," Will agreed.

***

You were not happy, let's just put it that way. There were so many people at Midway (since Jay wasn't flying with you, you and Will could fly out of Midway. Jay basically had a phobia of this airport now because he was abducted from here years ago) even though it was a 6 am flight on Sunday, that you and Will couldn't get more coffee.

"I'm gonna go find a vending machine," you said. "Can I have your card?" you asked.

You had time before you needed to board your flight and by finding a vending machine, you wouldn't have to waste time waiting in line. And, Will had told you to only bring your ID and some cash because he didn't want your debit or credit card getting stolen.

So, you went and found a vending machine and got yourself a Starbucks bottled frappuccino, and grabbed Will a boring plain latte.

"Here you go," you said and handed the coffee and his credit card to him.

"I didn't ask you to get me anything."

"Well, one it's your money, and two, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like shit."

Will rolled his eyes. "Thanks. I'm so glad I'm spending money to put up with you for a couple of days."

"Nah, you love me...at least, I'm your favorite sibling out of me and Jay."

"That's debatable. But you getting me this definitely earned a couple of points in that category."

Your phone buzzed. "It's Jay," you said after reading the text. "He said to have a good flight." Why your other brother was up at 5 am on a Sunday baffled you, but you figured it had something to do with his need for a consistent schedule and structure from his army days.

"He text it to the group chat?" Will asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I have my phone on silent and if he only texted you that, then I'd be offended."

"That would mean that I'm his favorite sibling then," you pointed out. "I'm both your favorite siblings."

"Oh, you're the favorite something alright," Will muttered under his breath. Then, he remembered something. He quickly unzipped a pocket in his backpack and handed you the packet of Dramamine. "You should probably take this now."

"And this is why you're the doctor because I probably would've forgotten."

Will just shook his head. "I know. And then you'd be miserable for the entire flight, which would make me miserable and it just wouldn't be a good time."

You just took the pill in response and handed the package back to him. "I get the window seat," you told him.

"I already planned on it," Will answered.

And fifteen minutes later, you were in line to board.

***

After waiting in line for an hour to get your rental car, you were finally out of the airport in Pheonix. Because of the time difference between Pheonix and Chicago, you got into Pheonix around 8 am, and it was currently a little past 9 am. And needless to say, you and Will were hungry.

"You sure you're good to drive?" you asked. "They said I could drive it, just that I can't be the main renter."

It shocked you that you could actually drive a rental car since you weren't 25 yet, which is the age that you could legally rent a car. But, turns out, you could be a driver, just not the one who was the primary renter.

"I was there, I know," Will said. "And, I'm good to drive. I've worked lots of 24-hour shifts running on little sleep, so I'll be fine."

"Okay. But if you need to switch drivers, let me know."

"I will. Now, what sounds good to eat?"

"I say IHOP."

"Pancakes and a pot of coffee it is then," Will agreed.

You put in the address for the nearest IHOP and made your way there.

And when you were at the restaurant, Will may or may not have taken a picture of you devouring your pancakes and sent it to the group chat that only contained him, Jay, and Hailey.

***

The next day, Monday

"I say we leave Jay home more often," you said when you woke up the next morning around 8.

Jay was always the one who was go, go, go while on vacation like he couldn't relax. He'd have had you running around Pheonix until midnight if he were here and he more than likely would've woke up at 6 to workout and then made a ton of noise rummaging around for his suitcase that he would've woken everyone else up in the hotel room, too.

"I would ask you if you slept well because you said that," Will began, "but I know you did because you were snoring. I should've smothered you with the pillow."

"I'm telling Jay if I come up dead in here that it was you," you said.

"And I'm telling him that you don't want him to come on vacation because he wakes you up early."

"He knows that! It's common knowledge!"

Will rolled his eyes. "Hurry up and get ready or do whatever you need to do so that we can go get some breakfast downstairs before all the good stuff's gone."

"Can we get coffee somewhere later? I looked up some coffee shops near here."

"Let's just get breakfast first and then we'll go from there."

***

The morning was spent looking at possible apartments, going to a bookshop that doubled as a coffeeshop (and buying a new book of course), and then going out for Mexican food for an early lunch (which had the best salsa you had ever tasted).

Then, you went back to the hotel and got ready to go to the pool.

"You can go down without me," Will said.

"You're not coming?" you asked.

"I gotta make a phone call. Work stuff," Will lied.

"Okay, see you down there," you said and grabbed a room key, and left to go to the pool.

Two minutes later, when Will was positive you were at least off the floor you were staying in, if not out to the pool by now, he pulled out his phone and dialed Jay's number.

"Everything okay?" Jay asked the minute he picked up.

"Yes, everything's okay."

"Well, if you're only calling me to brag about the chips and salsa you got, then it's in your best interest to hang up now." You had been sending pictures to the group chat between you, your brothers, and Hailey, and needless to say, Jay was jealous.

"Okay, fine," Will relented. "Everything's not okay. I don't know if I want Y/N staying here."

Now, Will had Jay's full attention. "Bad neighborhoods? What's it like? I can try and look into stuff for you, but I don't have jurisdiction there, so it might be hard to do."

"Dude, it's like Chicago, but it changes a bit faster here. You have wealthy people on one side of the street and then poverty on the other. The building her school is in is just down the street from a homeless encampment. And, she's a girl living by herself. I dunno about her living her, man."

"Well, all the schools she's applied to are in big cities, so she's gonna get that anywhere."

"I know, I know. It's just, the shit we see every day..."

"I get it," Jay agreed. "How did she react to the apartments? And the school?"

"Well, her face dropped when we saw the school. It was like in an industrial area and it's just a building. And, the apartments, the one she likes and the one she said would probably be safest would run her like $1800 a month just for the apartment, not including utilities, groceries, etc."

Jay whistled on the other end. "Shit. But, it's like that everywhere."

"I know. If she goes here, you're gonna need to fly out here and look at apartments with her because you might be able to figure some more stuff out."

"Yeah, if she gets in me and her will take some time to look at apartments out there. Maybe bring Hailey, too."

"Okay, good. And, I'm willing to pay a little bit of her rent if it means she'll be safe."

"Me too," Jay agreed. Then, he remembered something. "Hey, I think one of my old army buddies does construction for apartments out there. I'll see if he can give you some places to check out that he thinks are safer and text you if he tells me anything."

"That would be great, Jay. How's the training going?"

"Let's not talk about that when me and Hailey are on our lunch break, okay? It's a pain in the ass but I have to do it."

"Alright then. I'll let you wallow in your own pity while me and Y/N go chill at the pool. Bye, Jay."

"You're an ass," Jay laughed. "But have a good night. I'll text Y/N tomorrow before her interview and I'll talk to you guys tomorrow. I want to know how it goes." Will heard someone's voice on the other line, he assumed it was Hailey. "And Hailey wants to know how it goes, too." (Will was right.)

"I'll make sure to tell her. Have a good night you two."

Then, Will ended the call and changed, and headed down to the pool where you were soaking up the sun while reading a book on your iPad.

"Hey," Will said after he sat down next to you. "I talked to Jay. He's got an old army buddy that does apartment work around here. He's gonna talk to him and see if he can give us some apartments to look at."

"Okay, good," you said and then paused your reading timer. For the first ten minutes you were down here, you had began making a pros and cons list on your iPad. "Kansas City's looking pretty good after looking at rent prices and the cost of living over here."

"So, you're leaning towards Kansas City then?" Will asked. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. SAU had been your first choice since you had gotten the email saying that they wanted you to come for an interview.

You passed him your iPad. "You can look at my pros and cons list."

He took a minute to read it and then handed it back to you. "Kansas City has a study abroad program? You never told me that."

"Because I don't know if I'll be going or not. They have a campus in Spain and they saw that I minored in Spanish, so they said that if that's something I want to do, that it's an option. And, I had to miss my study abroad because of covid. It all depends on if I feel comfortable taking all my classes in Spanish though and how it will work out with my classes and my practicum schedule."

"That's great, Y/N! If you go to Kansas City, you should definitely look into it. And, I'm sure some of the students speak English and would be more than willing to help you if you needed it. The profs probably speak English too."

"I know. It's just, learning about the brain and psychology in my second language after not having learned much in undergrad even though I have my minor in it, is a little scary."

"Then you don't have to go. But, you have the option at least if you go to Kansas City. And, Kansas City doesn't have assistantships?" Will asked.

Assistantships are where a student does some kind of work for the university and, depending on how many hours you work, half or all of your tuition is paid for by the university and they'll give you a living stipend.

"No. But, SAU does. I just don't know if the assistantships are for the campus I'm going to or the main campus. It's more expensive here and if I don't get an assistantship, I don't know how I'm gonna be able to afford rent," you told him.

"What's the tuition cost for the programs?" Will asked.

"About the same," you answered.

"So, Kansas City: Spain, no assistantships, lower cost of living. And SAU: no Spain, possible assistantships, higher cost of living?" Will asked.

"Yeah," you answered. "Them having assistantships at that campus is gonna play a big part in if I go to school here or not."

"Let's just focus on the interview for now and make sure to ask them about that tomorrow. You got into one school for sure. Just focus on what you can control tomorrow and then decide. Okay?"

"Okay," you answered.

"I know it's hard to do right now, but just relax. Everything will work itself out eventually."

***

Tuesday, day of SAU interview

"You're gonna do great," Will reassured as you bobbed your leg up and down on the twenty-minute car ride from the hotel to SAU's south campus.

You went to open your coffee that Will bought you downstairs before you left (you weren't drinking nasty brewed coffee from the hotel and you cited the fact that you wouldn't have time to get coffee before the interview as the reason why you needed some now. Plus, you weren't going into arguably the most important interview of your entire life without caffeine in your system.) but you had to close your eyes and take a few deep breaths before you could actually open it because your hands were shaking.

"I don't know about that," you said after taking a sip of your coffee. "I could barely open my coffee."

"We practiced last night and you got all the answers right. You'll do just fine, Y/N. Did you and your social worker come up with strategies for this?"

"Mhm."

You and Marsha had talked about how to manage your nerves during your two interviews at your previous in-person session. Your plan was to remember that you had rehearsed these answers so much that you knew these answers. And to imagine yourself answering them at your desk at home with a candle and a cup of coffee in front of you like how you had actually practiced at home. Plus, the image was of a calming environment, so it might help slow your breathing and heart rate down. And, hey, you already got into one school, so why wouldn't you be able to get into this one?

"I just don't know what to expect in the group interview."

"Just be yourself while being professional. You'll be fine."

Your phone buzzed.

Jay.

You got this! You're gonna kill that interview!

Then another text came in.

Hailey.

Good luck, Y/N! You'll do great! Think positive thoughts (easier said than done, I know, haha). Love you!

You responded to each of them with a thank you and with Jay's, you added a smiley face emoji to the end, and to Hailey's, you added a heart to the end.

Fifteen minutes later, you pulled into the parking lot.

"Take a couple deep breaths," Will told you. You closed your eyes and did as he said. Then, you opened them and nodded. He squeezed your shoulder. "You practiced. Just remember that. Good luck."

And then, you stepped out of the car, grabbed your bag and your coffee, and walked into the place you hoped you'd be going to school at for the next five years.

***

Two hours later, 10:00 am

The group interview went fine. It felt just like a conversation more or less...which kind of made you nervous. Wasn't it supposed to feel like an interview? It was just sort of weird in your opinion. You basically just talked about how fucked the US mental health/foster care/social services system was and how each of you wanted to change that.

But now it was time for the part where you knew what to expect, and this part arguably had more riding it than the group interview: the individual interview.

You were interviewing with someone named Dr. Haldon.

She led you to her office and you sat down. She first asked you how you were doing and you said good, a little nervous, but good.

Then, she jumped right in.

"Your statement of purpose was a little confusing to tell you the truth," she said.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Your statement of purpose seemed pretty clear-cut and easily digestible to you. "It was?"

"Yes. You talked a lot about sports psychology, but why you want to go into neuropsychology and how you want to do more with the mental health side of things, but that you want more precision. So, explain that."

"Which part?" you asked. "The sports psych, neuropsych, mental health, or precision part?"

You swore she could hear your heart beating out of your chest.

"The precision part."

So, you went into it. You explained how you wanted to be a sports psychologist because you loved hockey and always wanted to do something with sports, but that you were also passionate about mental health. So, when you found sports psych, you thought it would be perfect for you.

But, then you took a class in sports psych and realized it was more behavior-based. Plus, it wasn't as precise as neuropsych where you'd be analyzing test results based on previous data and sometimes looking at brain scans.

You also explained how when you were little, you saw your brother becoming a doctor and, being the impressionable little girl you were, you wanted to be a doctor, too. But, then you realized you were scared of blood and weren't super good at hard sciences like chemistry.

So, when you found neuropsych after not wanting to go into sports psych, you knew this was what you wanted to do because it sort of married the two: you'd get to work in the psych field with more precision than sports psych and you'd get to work in a hospital and be on a treatment team without going to med school.

(This was all mentioned in your statement of purpose--minus the med school part--so you really didn't understand why she wanted you to repeat it all.)

"Define what you mean by precision," Dr. Haldon requested.

"Um, neuropsychologists get to look at brain scans and those are more precise than some psychological testing."

"Neuropsychologists don't look at brain scans," she told you.

"They don't? When I researched them, they did. I didn't get to take a neuropsych class though because the class was full when I decided I wanted to switch specialties."

"Well, they don't. That's the neurologist's job. And, sports psychologists get to work with mental health. Are you sure what you took was a sports psychology class?"

"Yes," you answered. It was a full-year class, not just one semester, so you knew the ins and outs of this class that you had taken your senior year of undergrad.

"Well, sports psychologists do still get to work with the mental health of the athlete."

"Oh. I was taught that they had to refer out since it would be a conflict of interest."

"No. I have my post-doc in sports psych, which is why I wanted to interview you."

There it is. That's why you weren't being interviewed by the faculty you said you wanted to work with in your statement of purpose. It was because she wanted to groom you into a sports psychologist...which made half as much as a neuropsychologist, but had the same of amount schooling required.

You just nodded.

"I think you close doors before you even open them all the way."

You just took a deep breath.

Then, she started asking you some questions, most of which you had not prepared for.

"Sorry," you started in response to one of the questions. "I'm thinking. I'm just nervous."

Without missing a beat, she asked, "So, how's your anxiety?"

You stared at her. "What?"

"Well, you've mentioned you were nervous several times."

Twice. You had mentioned your nerves twice. And, any sane person would be nervous during an interview!

You didn't know what to say, so you just blurted the truth out.

"I'm going to therapy," you answered.

"I see. So how is that going?"

You should have told her that your medical/mental health history was none of her damn business, but you wanted to go to this school, so you answered the question. At least, you thought you wanted to go to this school.

"It's going well. Helps a lot," you answered. Now you decided to take charge because, after the conversation you had with Will by the pool last night, you knew that your decision to go here would be riding on whether or not you could get an assistantship at this campus. "Do you have any assistantships available?"

"Oh, yes, I was going to ask you about that as well. We don't have assistantships available. I don't know where you found that information."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "But, on SAU's website, it said that there were assistantships available. Is that only for the main campus?"

"Yes, there are no assistantships for this campus, unfortunately."

"Oh."

There was a pause as if Dr. Haldon were waiting for you to comment further. When you didn't, she posed the question, "So, explain to me why you chose the PsyD route instead of the Ph.D. route."

"Well," you began. Did you tell her that you initially applied for PhDs and PsyDs were just the backup because you didn't get into any PhD programs?

Fuck it. She already knew you had anxiety, it couldn't really get that much worse.

"I applied to PhDs first because they're fully funded. But, since I didn't get into any of those, I applied for PsyDs. And, I like the clinical aspect more than the research aspect, so there's that," you answered.

"You were going to do research even though you don't like it? A Ph.D. is five years, that's a long time to do research if you don't like it. Why?"

"Because they're fully funded," you said quieter than you had answered all of her other questions but still loud enough that she could hear you.

"So you were going to do something you didn't like for that long because the program is fully funded?" You nodded. "I see."

You went through the rest of the questions she had been prepared to ask you and you asked her if she had any recommendations on where to live around here or where current students live, in case you got into the program.

But, during all of this, all you felt was defeat. Even if Dr. Haldon's behavior was making you want to go to Southern Arizona University even less, well you had just bombed your interview; even if you still wanted to go, there was no way they still wanted you.

***

"How'd it go?" Will asked with a smile when you got in the car.

You closed the door and scoffed and shook your head. "Shitty."

"What?" he quickly moved the car into a parking spot so that you two could talk. "Why?"

"I didn't even get to interview with the faculty I wanted to interview with! And the lady who interviewed me was bitch! She questioned my abilities and made it seem like I was supposed to know everything and- and- ugh!"

You blinked your eyes rapidly and fanned them so that you didn't cry and then have to wipe your face and smudge your mascara and foundation everywhere.

"Okay, calm down. Take a deep breath. What happened exactly?"

And so, you relayed the story of your individual interview with him.

"First off, she was wrong to question if you had anxiety or not. That was unprofessional. And secondly, if you knew everything, you wouldn't be here; you'd already be a neuropsychologist. She can't expect you to know everything. That's why you're going to school."

"Yeah, I guess," you agreed.

"And, at least you interviewed here. That way you saw this now instead of seeing it when you got in after deciding to come here. Remember, you're interviewing them as much as they're interviewing you."

You sniffled. "Thanks, Will. Sorry, I made you take time off work to just come down here and for me not to get into this school."

"Hey, no. It was a nice little vacation from the cold. And, you might still get in."

"Yeah, but I'm leaning towards Kansas City now even if I do get in."

"Okay. Wherever you want to go. It's your decision. I know you wanted somewhere warm, Y/N. But Kansas City might be the place for you."

"Yeah," you agreed quietly.

"I drove around and looked at some possible apartments for you, but now I think we should just go get some ice cream. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds like a great idea."

And then, instead of ice cream, you got the gooiest chocolate chip cookie of your life topped with caramel. It didn't fix everything, but it sure made it better.

And, when you called Jay in the car to explain to him everything that happened at your interview, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little relieved that you probably wouldn't be moving 25 hours away from him.

***

A month and a half later, early May

It was finally time for you to go to Kansas City to look at the school you would be attending and start apartment hunting. You had been apartment hunting as much as possible online, but it was really hard to know an area and know if you liked an apartment by looking online. So, you and Jay were driving down, and then Will was flying down after his shift later tonight so that he'd be with you to visit the school during the interview later morning tomorrow. (You figured he was the best bet to bring since he knew more of this stuff than Jay. And, you weren't gonna bring both brothers. You were in graduate school, not undergrad; bringing both of them would be overkill.)

You were a little over four hours into your drive and the sky had started to darken about half an hour ago. Since you were currently the passenger and Jay was driving (you planned on switching drivers when you got into Kansas City so that you could practice driving there with someone else in the car), he had you check the forecast to see when it was going to rain.

Your phone had told you in about two hours, and you hoped to be close to Kansas City by then.

And then, yours and Jay's phones went off at the same time, almost giving you a heart attack. You looked at the alert.

"There's a tornado warning near us," you told Jay.

"A watch or a warning?" he asked.

"Warning."

He cursed under his breath. "Hopefully we'll miss it. Keep an eye out for funnel clouds. How far away are we from where it was spotted?"

You went on your phone to start looking for more information, and not even two minutes later, it started hailing.

You grabbed your sweatshirt from the backseat so that in case the hail shattered your windshield, you'd have something to put over your face to protect your eyes.

The area beneath the overpasses quickly started to become full of cars and semis that were finding a place to hunker down for the time being. Jay reached down flip something and then cursed when he realized what he was looking for wasn't there.

"And, it's in your car. Great," he said.

"Why? You want a new truck if we were driving yours and the windshield breaks?" you asked as you continued to scroll through your phone for more information.

"No," he answered. "I could put on my lights and sirens and probably find us a police station to camp out at. And, I'd be able to listen to important stuff like where an accident is, from my scanner. And, my windshield and windows are bulletproof. The hail's small enough now that it shouldn't break your windshield, though."

You nodded. "And, that bulletproof glass isn't going to help much if we drive into a tornado."

"That is true," he agreed. "Can you text Will and Hailey and let them know what's going on?"

You did so and immediately got responses from both Will and Hailey.

Hailey: WHATTT???

Will: Go find somewhere to post-up.

You responded to the group, even though you were mainly responding to Will's question, by telling them that you were trying to find something to take cover underneath, but that the areas underneath the overpasses were all full, so you were gonna keep driving.

Then, Will and Hailey replied with some form of stay safe and Will told you to keep them updated. Hailey also said to tell Jay that she loved him.

"Hailey says she loves you," you told Jay.

Jay laughed. "This is arguably safer than us getting shot at every day. But tell her I love her, too. You can tell her the getting shot at thing, too, if you want."

"She'll probably send a middle finger emoji if I tell her that."

"Yeah, probably."

You texted and told Hailey that Jay said he loves her, too and Will responded asking if he's chopped liver. So, you told him that you and Jay loved him too, but that you should both be fine and that you'd stop driving once you found a place to hunker down at.

After driving for ten more minutes, the hail was coming down so hard that you and Jay could barely see, so he took the first exit he saw.

"Look for places with empty spots," he told you, referring to places with awnings over them so that you'd be covered.

You looked and there was a bank...full. A church with a small awning...full.

Then, Jay spotted a self-service car wash and did what was probably an illegal U-turn to turn into the parking lot.

There were three stalls and the last one on the right was empty. You both thanked your lucky stars and pulled inside.

Jay breathed a sigh of relief as he put the car in park. "Tell Will we're safe."

Then a thought came to mind. "You think Will's gonna be able to fly out tonight?"

Jay looked at the clock. It was almost 3 pm and Will's flight didn't leave until 11 pm. "His flight doesn't leave for another eight hours, so hopefully. If not, I'll just go tour the school with you."

"Okay."

"It's always an adventure with you, isn't it?"

You laughed and shook your head. "And we're not even to Kansas City yet."

After hunkering down for a bit, the hail had let up and you got back on the highway and continued driving. As it turns out, you had been driving the way the tornado was heading. Hail started up once more, but only kept up for five minutes. And, twenty minutes later, there were blue skies on the horizon.

You took a picture and texted it to Will and Hailey telling them you were safe and driving again and told Will to let you know if his flight got delayed or canceled.

***

The next day, Monday

The rest of the night went fine and Will's flight left as scheduled and you and Jay picked him up from the airport and then went for some late-night ice cream. The three of you got breakfast at the hotel and you bought a bottled latte from the market area—Jay and Will thought bitter and acidic hotel coffee tasted fine; you did not.-- Then, the three of you went back upstairs to your room and you and Will proceeded to get ready for the day while Jay got back into bed and proceeded to drink his coffee, call Hailey (who was on her into work), and watch highlights of last night's NHL playoff games.

You and Will went to Kansas City Health College and University and right off the bat, you already got better vibes than those at SAU. Everyone was friendlier, maybe that was just a Midwest thing, but either way, you'd take it.

You toured the school (well, it was more like a building) and you liked it better than SAU as well. They were all about their students here and it was obvious they cared about them and their success. There was a student area complete with a fridge where you could store your lunches for the day and a microwave to use, as well as some comfy chairs and a couch for students to study on and relax. There was a little bar area where students could eat or study. And, there were even two gaming consoles in front of a flat-screen tv, a foosball table, and a ping-pong table for students to use so that they can chill out and hang out with friends. The lady who was giving you a tour even said that last week, they even had a staff vs students ping-pong tournament.

Then, you went and looked at some of the classrooms along with the lab, which you would be using for your neuroanatomy lab and she went over some of the other things the school offered, such as counseling services.

Then, she gave you time to ask any questions you might have for her, you met with the program director and asked her program specific-questions, such as scheduling and the like, and then you met with the dean of students who just wanted to introduce herself and let her know that you could come to her with any concerns you might have.

The entire tour and meetings/question and answer sessions only lasted about two hours, but one thing was for sure: you had found the school for you.

(And, once you were completely finished, Will took a picture of you outside the school that you planned to post on your Instagram tonight.)

***

"How'd it go?" Jay asked when you and Will walked back into the hotel room. This time, Jay's hair was wet and you assumed he had gone to the gym and then taken a shower while you had been gone because you'd now been gone from the hotel for a total of three hours, and despite relaxing when you had left, you knew Jay couldn't sit still for three hours watching random sports highlights or shitty, unrealistic reality tv.

"She loves it," Will said before you could even answer the question.

"Really? Better than SAU, then?"

"Way better. They really care about their students." You then recapped everything you learned, including the student lounge area, how small the cohorts were, etc.

"I'm glad you like it. Ready to go look at apartments?"

That was what was next on your agenda, apartment hunting. You had used up the rest of your sick to take some time off in June to come back if you still needed to find an apartment, but you really didn't want to come back and look again if you didn't have to. You'd prefer to use that time to do things you needed to get done before moving such as going to the eye doctor to see if you needed new glasses and going to the dentist. And, not needing to use that time to come back down here to look at apartments meant that you could use those days for job interviews as well. That was another thing you needed to do after apartment hunting: job hunting.

"Just let me change first. I am not wearing dress pants to look at apartments. And, I'm putting my hair up," you told Jay.

After quickly changing into something more comfortable and putting your hair up, Will changed his clothes as well and the three of you went out to the car to start apartment hunting.

***

You had been looking at apartments online in a historic district called Regent's Circle. It looked very pretty in the photos, but they couldn't really do it justice. Once you parked and walked around, you knew this was where you wanted to live.

Since it was a historic district, it had old townhouses and cobblestone sidewalks, as well as a little coffee shop that Jay said you could go to after you looked at some apartments, a park right in the center of the area, and even a community garden.

It made you think of all the vintage cities you saw in photos and, since your grad school didn't have that old-timely Harvard/Yale feel, at least the place you were living would...if you could find an apartment here, that is.

You had three apartments you wanted to check out that you had found online, but if you found ones while walking around, you'd look at those as well.

The first one you looked at was nice, but it was really dimly lit and dark inside, which you didn't really like. You'd live there if that was the only thing available, but you didn't want to. (At least it was a loft and had exposed brick like you wanted. But, you had filtered for lofts. You wanted something like Kelly and Stella's apartment, but on a smaller scale...and something that you could afford.)

The second one you looked at, you absolutely fell in love with.

It was more expensive than the previous one, but it had a pool. And, something Jay liked was that the parking lot was gated and you needed a code to get in and you'd be on the second floor.

It was a one-bedroom and was a loft style, of course, so it was very open. There was a long marble island, so you wouldn't even need to buy a table, just a set of barstools. The main wall in the living/kitchen that faced the back of the building—as well as the dog park, so you could see cute puppies while watching tv—, was all exposed brick with some windows on it. There were also beams exposed in the ceiling.

The bathroom sink was separate from the shower/tub and the toilet, meaning someone could do their makeup while someone else was going to the bathroom if needed. But, this wasn't your favorite part about the bathroom. No, your favorite part was that it was a wide, circular bathtub/shower, a soaking tub if you will, which would come in handy for taking warm, relaxing baths after long days of classes, studying, and practicums.

And, something that Jay pointed out, the floor was concrete, so you didn't have to worry about spilling something on the carpet and staining it and getting charged for it. (You assumed Jay was speaking from experience during his bachelor pad days, but when you asked him, he said he was pleading the fifth.)

The apartment definitely gave you Stella and Kelly vibes and it was in a safe area.

Then, you finished the tour by looking at the fitness center and then gave the manager who had helped you your email address and phone number and he gave you a few pieces of paper with information as well as his business card.

"That's the one I want," you told Jay and Will when you were sitting outside at the little coffee shop a quarter mile away from the apartment you had just toured drinking a latte and eating a danish.

"It's a bit pricey," Jay pointed out.

"They're all like that if she wants it in a safe area," Will said.

"Would you rather have me be safe and live in a bit more expensive apartment? Or not be safe and live in a cheap apartment? Plus, there's an in-unit washer and dryer, which you know is a deal-breaker for me."

All the way back when you were in Arizona, you had told Will that having an in-unit washer and dryer was one of your non-negotiables for your apartment. You knew that being a busy grad student, you wouldn't have all day to spend at a laundromat or in a community laundry area in your apartment, so you needed an in-unit washer and dryer.

"She's got a point, Jay," Will agreed. "And, she's got some savings to pull from if she can't find a job right away."

"And it's five minutes away from school and I don't need to drive on the highway. I'm saving money in gas and time without all the traffic."

"And here I thought Will was the boujee sibling," Jay said, causing Will to roll his eyes.

You smiled. "I'll take that as your seal of approval."

And three days later, when you were back at work and had downtime during your shift, you applied for the apartment.

***

Two and a half months later, mid-July

Everything was in place. You secured the apartment you wanted in Regent's Circle in Kansas City, you had gotten an online tutoring job that was flexible where you could work from home, so you could work around your school and practicum schedules, and you were mostly packed up. (And you had gotten into SAU even after bombing the interview, but decided not to go because they—especially Dr. Haldon—absolutely did not pass the vibe check...and they got back to you two months later instead of two weeks like they had originally told you.) Your favorite coworkers had even thrown you a little surprise goodbye party complete with mini cupcakes and a few gifts, which included a card, two energy drinks, and a Starbucks gift card.

And now, you were leaving in two days, which was why you were very confused when Jay had made you stop doing laundry and packing up last-minute things and told you to get ready because you were going somewhere.

"Hailey, help me out here," you began, "where are we going?"

"Can't tell you that," she told you.

"Okay...how do I need to dress then?"

"Casual," she answered. "With a little bit of makeup."

You nodded. "Still didn't give me any hints. Rude."

And then you walked into your room to change and do your makeup with Jay and Hailey laughing in the background.

***

"Molly's? Really?" You asked when Jay parked on the street where Molly's Pub was located. "You couldn't have just told me that?"

"I'm just picking something up from Kelly," Jay answered. "And, I thought you might want to see Stella one more time before you leave and she's bartending tonight."

The three of you got out of Jay's truck—Hailey citing the fact that who knows how long Jay and Kelly would talk as her reasoning for not staying in the truck—and then walked into Molly's.

"Surprise!" was what you heard when you walked in.

You looked around with wide eyes to see a banner that said Farewell Y/N! and everyone from Intelligence, 51, and everyone you knew at Med. Even Voight was here and from snippets of conversation you had heard here and there, he was one step above being legally barred from entering Molly's.

You put your hand over your mouth as tears came to your eyes. "You guys."

"You didn't think we'd send you off without a party, did you?" Kelly asked.

"I wasn't expecting one, no."

Then Stella walked up to you. "Well, you got one. And all your drinks are on the house tonight." She handed you a drink. "Starting with this cherry vodka sour."

Stella knew that was your favorite.

A few minutes later, after everything had died down a bit, Voight came up to you while you were talking to Stella and Kelly at the bar.

"Congrats, kid," he said.

"Thank you," you replied.

"You've always been sort of like a daughter to me and to everyone in Intelligence for that matter, so I'm gonna keep it short." He handed you an envelope. A fat envelope at that. "For rent. And, there's the numbers of a sergeant and a couple of officers I know down there in case you run into any trouble."

"I can't accept this. It's too much." You hadn't even opened it, but by the thickness of the envelope, you knew it contained a lot of money.

"You can and you will. Justin never really used his college fund, and I wanted it to go to something worthwhile."

(This was in fact, a lie. This was money from Voight being Voight, but you didn't need to know that. And more importantly, Jay didn't need to know that...even though, after you counted out the bills, Jay would have his suspicions.)

You nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Stay out of trouble."

And then, he gave you a hug and left the bar because even though he was legally allowed to enter, he knew he still would never be accepted there. And, the less time he spent there, the better.

***

After talking and laughing with everyone for about an hour, Hermann yelled to be heard over the noise.

"Okay, everyone! Listen up!" The room quieted. "It's time to give Y/N her presents."

Then, Ritter came out one of the employees-only doors, pushing a food service cart containing multiple gift bags and boxes wrapped in colorful wrapping paper.

You were just about to say something when the door opened and you whirled your head around.

You jumped off your barstool and ran up to him.

"Casey!"

He pulled you into a hug. "You didn't think I'd miss my favorite kid's going away party, did you?"

"I thought you were in Oregon!"

"Just in time," Will said.

Then, you looked between your two brothers and at all of the firefighters in the bar. They didn't look surprised to see Casey at all.

"You knew about this?"

Jay laughed. "Who do you think told him?"

"Enough with the logistics," Casey yelled. "Get this kid a drink! On me!"

"Her drinks are already free tonight!" Kelly yelled. "Which you would've known if you got here on time."

"Nice to see you, too, Severide," Casey shot back.

There were a couple of chuckles heard throughout the bar and then Hermann spoke up again.

"Open the gifts so we can get this cart out of here, will you?"

You laughed and shook your head and then opened your gifts, thanking every single person as you went.

51 got you a fire extinguisher and a Slamigan, which Kelly explained was less about opening doors and more for whacking someone over the head if they tried to break into your apartment. All the doctors and nurses got together and made you the best first aid kit you had ever seen, complete with more stuff than even Jay had in the first aid kit at home and you thought his was the best at-home first aid kit around. And, Intelligence got you a master lock for your door just for some added security. Also, Kevin and Adam got you a Taser. (They had to specify that it was just from them because Jay vetoed it for the joint gift, so they got it for you themselves.) And, Gallo, Ritter, and Violet gave you a case of their lightest IPA and a 12-pack of grapefruit seltzer so that you Jay, Hailey, and Will would have something to drink while working on moving you into your apartment.

Then, they did something that was even more unexpected than giving you all these gifts: they started chanting speech.

"Here, take this," Stella handed you a shot of what you assumed was vodka. "Liquid courage."

You took it and then took a deep breath.

"I wasn't really prepared to give a speech—I wasn't prepared for any of this since it was a surprise—so it might not be the greatest," you began. You looked around the room at everyone who had come out to celebrate you tonight, of all people. "Thank you all for coming, it really means a lot. Stella, thank you for making my hair beautiful for all my dances senior year. Sylvie, thank you for helping me with my biology homework when Will was busy at work so he couldn't help me. Thank you to all of 51 for making me laugh when I had to spend days there when I was younger when Will and Jay were busy and couldn't stay with me. Kelly and Matt, thank you for teaching me how to use a fire extinguisher and how to change the batteries in a smoke detector.

"Everyone at Med, thank you for putting up with me when I went to Med to find Will even if I was pulling you away from your jobs. I'm also sorry about that." That got a couple of laughs from some people. "Hannah, thank you for all your help earlier this year. I would've been even more of a mess if it weren't for your help.

"Trudy, thank you for putting up with me when I'd run into the district looking for Jay and for always giving me money to go get a snack and a pop from the vending machines. Kim, thank you for helping me with my Spanish. Kevin, thank you for taking me for my very first ride in a cop car when you were on patrol and Kim was pulled up to Intelligence for the day. Sorry, Trudy." She glared at Kevin, but then laughed, so you knew it wasn't that serious. "Adam, thank you for teaching me how to pick locks because Jay told me that he'd never teach me that."

Now, you turned to face Hailey and your brothers and the tears started to fall.

"Hailey, thank you for coming into my brother's life and for loving him and during that time, for loving me as well. Thank you for becoming the closest thing to a mom that I've ever had."

Hailey put her hand over her mouth and blinked rapidly to hold back her tears, but then just gave up and let a few of them slide down her cheeks.

"And to Will and Jay, God I can't even put into words how much you two mean to me. You became like father figures to me. Your both have put your careers on the line whether that be to pick me up from school on time, or to leave a shift to come to one of my academic awards ceremonies. Thank you. And thank you for putting up with me for these past six months and for being there and helping me through this process. I couldn't have done it without you both."

By the end of your speech, there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

And, despite saying that you didn't really think you'd miss Chicago and would relish living on your own, by the end of the night, you knew that in two days, you'd feel pangs of homesickness when you drove away from all these people who had become like a family to you over the years.

***

4 days later

You looked around your apartment at all the hard work you, Jay, Will, and Hailey had put in during these past two days. The four of you had hauled ass the past two days to get you completely moved in by Sunday night so that Will, Jay, and Hailey could leave and be home at a decent time in the morning so that Will could make it to his 3 pm-3 am shift on time.

"We should probably get going," Will stated. He had said that an hour ago, but there had been a silent agreement between the four of you to prolong your brothers' and sister-in-law's stay as long as possible. Even though you said you were more excited than nervous, it didn't mean that you wouldn't miss them.

You were not going to cry because you knew if you started crying, you'd want to jump in Jay's truck and go home with them, and you knew you couldn't do that.

"One last picture," Hailey said and pulled out her phone, and handed it to Will, who was the tallest of the four of you.

You all crowded together while Will held Hailey's phone and took a selfie.

Now, it was time for goodbye.

Hailey was up first.

"I'm gonna miss you," she told you.

Tears sprang to your eyes. "I'm gonna miss you, too. Make sure Jay doesn't get shot, okay?"

"I'll do my best. You know he's a bullet magnet."

"Unfortunately."

Then, you gave her a big hug. She knew how much she meant to you and vice versa, so there wasn't a need for a long, drawn-out goodbye between you two.

Next up, was Will.

He pulled you into a hug and told you he'd love and miss you and then pulled away and put his hands on your shoulders.

"You call me if you need anything, okay? And I mean anything."

All you could do was nod because you knew if you said anything, you'd just start crying.

Last but certainly not least, was Jay.

He gave you a bone-crushing hug, during which you tried not to sob.

But, when he pulled away and you saw him trying his best to hold back tears, that's when the waterworks started.

"I'm gonna miss you, so much!"

Jay hugged you again. "And I'm gonna miss you, too. But I am so, so proud of you."

You nodded and wiped your tears. "I love you, Jay Jay."

"Love you, too, kiddo."

Jay took a deep breath to steady himself. "We need to go, but if you need anything at all, I'm only eight hours away, about five or six with lights and sirens."

"I know. Voight might kick your ass for using them all the way to Kansas City, though."

"That would probably be Platt, which is arguably scarier."

Then, you walked the three of them to your door and watched them leave.

Hailey sent you the picture and you posted some highlights of these two days including another picture in front of your school of the four of you that you had a passerby take and some funny videos you took while moving in, one of which was Jay and Will arguing over how to build a couch because Jay refused to read the directions.

Then, you posted all of these on your Instagram with the caption Onto the next adventure.

Jay and Hailey both reposted the post on their Instagram stories with Jay captioning it Not a dad, but I think this is what being a proud dad feels like with a heart emoji at the end, and Will posted the picture of the four of you in front of your school on his account with the caption Soon, there will be two Dr. Halsteads.

And, little did you know, Jay, Will, and Hailey did not have to be back tomorrow because Will had to work. That was a lie. They were getting a hotel room to make sure everything went okay on your first night alone in your apartment.

Because even though you were living on your own and would be a state away, they would do anything to help you succeed, whether that be helping you with applications, going with you to an ultrasound, or telling you a white lie so that they could make sure you were okay.

You wouldn't trade them for the world.

And, Jay had been right: you got this.

A/N: If you made it this far, congratulations! You finished my longest imagine ever! If you liked it, don't forget to reblog/like and comment because I love hearing what you guys think! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @911ls-tarlos @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88 @glitterquadricorn @luvreading67 @smoothdogsgirl @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff@actlikesummerr @lcothr523 @star-wars-lover​

[haztory]

irda!! it’s been a while!! just dropping by to leave some cute lil plushies and lots and lots and lots of hearts!! 🧸💖💞💝 I hope this season of love has been an overflow for you 🥺

i also come back with a sel question!! i know valentine’s has passed but I am curious what an ideal valentine’s date would be for you!! and what does hajime’s or any of the cod men’s love feel like?

SELLL MY LOVE

hi how are you apologies for the delay, i hate grad school

CAN I TELL YOU I THINK ABOUT THIS ENDLESSLY AND I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS TOO (btw happy belated valentines, i saw you did a valentines COLLAB, i've been meaning to binge!!!!!!!!!)

i think hajime has always been soft for the idea of love. yes, he's stoic and independent and likes to present himself as such an immovable strength that the premise of him and roses kind of seems paradoxical--but to me its so fitting.

maybe other guys tend to feel constricted by the concept of valentines day, where they're stuck to the old ball and chain and pressured to perform for a capitalistic holiday; but not iwaizumi. if you're in a relationship, he's going to the nines--doing the rose petals, writing the sweet but short message in the card, making the dinner reservations, and sharing a steamy and soapy bath with you are all ways that he participates because hajime likes you. these are all ways that he shows that he cares for you because sometimes he can't find the words to show that, so doing things is easier. (and yeah, this is a very man thing to be emotionally inept that the only applicable love language is by action, but sorry! that's hajime!).

and more importantly, when you like it? he's a beaming fool. he's picking the petals and spreading them around your room with the confidence of a king, because he knows you'll enjoy it. pulling the msby card so that he can get the super exclusive balcony seating and the booked out new restaurant downtown? he's smug as hell. running the bath and throwing that bubble shit in it, making the bathroom smell like lavender and mint? bitch is patting himself on the back saying "who's the man? i'm the MAN."

because showing that he loves you is natural to him, it's the absolute designation of strength. he's a secure dude, and he's secure in his relationship, and he won't ever be the one to write waxing poetry about his feelings for you, but he gets an innate pleasure out of treating you. because he loves you, and he knows you'll love these tiny things. so yeah, he kinda loves valentines. cause he gets to love you even more than he already does. and it's not like its because he knows any better or wants to prove that he's a better man than anyone else. like i genuinely don't even think he realizes he does valentines day better than any other boyfriend, he just does it because he wants to treat you and that the whole point of valentines dayl

and he gets wicked head from you so it's even better.

[agentravensong]

two scenes i would add to nerdy prudes must die

the thing about being autistic is that i will have no motivation to sit down and write stuff for my grad school applications all day, but then at night i'll find it in me to spend 3+ hours writing a tumblr post about my latest hyperfixation ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this time that hyperfixation is nerdy prudes must die, a show that, despite still not being my favorite starkid hatchetfield musical, has really dug its claws into me. i'm gonna detail two scenes that i think would add to certain character arcs, give ritchie (and ruth)'s death(s) more impact, and really drive home the show's themes. don't think i need much more preamble than that, so, here we go!

1. Second Lauter family scene

A scene set between Ritchie's death and Ruth's, fitting best in the plot as is right after "Hatchet Town".

Primary purpose: Show more of Steph's character and her relationship with her father; show that the attitudes that made the teens' high school experience hell (pre-ghost!max) are reinforced by the adults

Basic outline: Steph and her dad are having a convo, prompted by the mayor, about how school is going; a kind of convo that, with how awkward it is, clearly doesn't happen often. Lauter says something half-hearted about how it's a shame her high school experience is being ruined by these events, because it was the happiest time of his life (as a contrast to the opinions our protags express in the opening number).

Steph doesn't want to talk about the murder stuff (duh) so she redirects to how her grades have genuinely improved (or at least did for a minute there) thanks to her studying with Pete, in a way that makes it clear she's genuinely proud of her improvement.

Mayor Lauter, in response, tells her that he doesn't want her hanging out with the nerds anymore, in or out of school, because it makes her a target (and also a suspect).

Steph gets upset at this dismissal; what kind of dad, she scoffs, would tell their daughter who was finally succeeding academically to stop trying? Especially when he was the one who told her to get her grades up?

And Mayor Lauter says something to the effect of, "You don't need to be a star student. I know you, Stephanie; that's never going to be you. All you need to be is good enough. Can you just do that for me?"

We have the mayor leave at this point; let's say he gets a phone call, cause that makes sense, and also is a deeply ironic reason for him to leave a family conversation considering his criticism of Steph's phone use. Steph could even point that out as a joke.

Here is where, if we have time, we give Steph a solo number. Well, it could be a solo, or it could be a duet with her dad — the kind where they're not singing to each other or aware that the other is singing, but they're basically singing their different perspectives on the same thing (in this case, their relationship). I propose the duet version because Corey deserves to get to show off his vocals more prominently in these shows.

Alternate ending if we're not doing the song: Steph can storm out, and the mayor can have an ominous line foreshadowing the drastic measures he'll be taking when we see him again.

The idea with this scene is that I want to give more weight to the whole "she's smarter than she thinks she is" angle to Steph's character. Show that she has found something through her bond with the nerds (Pete mainly) that makes her want to be more than just the "cool girl". And show that there is a part of her that wants a better relationship with her father (because if he won't believe in her, be proud of her, then who will?).

But also, we see how her dad has pigeonholed her into being that kind of airhead. All he cares about is that she stays out of trouble (which is to say, anything that would cause trouble for him). He doesn't care what she's genuinely interested in, what she aspires to; he's spent most of her teenage-hood assuming she's not interested in anything worthwhile, that she doesn't aspire to anything. He doesn't see her as a full person.

And, perhaps most importantly, him telling her not to associate with the nerds draws a direct line between him and our main antagonist, Max. Which matters for reasons that will become clearer as I discuss the second additional scene I came up with.

For the record, if I only got to add one of these scenes (NPMD is the longest of the Hatchetfield shows already, and both these scenes would have to be Act 2 additions), I'd pick this next one. So let's get to it.

2. High School Regression scene

Primary purpose: Showing how the murder(s) has/have affected the student body, and making the point that the hierarchies Max represented can't be disposed of that easily when he's still, literally and metaphorically, haunting the place.

This one would happen in between when the protags find out about Ritchie's death and when Grace informs Pete and Steph of Ruth's death. Practically, this means it would have to be set either:

A) right before Ruth goes to the BBQ Monologues rehearsal, with the scene centering around her, and leading directly into her arrival there (maybe replacing the cop convo entirely? maybe they're at the end of it)

or B) as basically a replacement for the Beanie's scene, but still leading into "If I Loved You" (and everything that comes after)

The beat-by-beat for this one is less solid in my head compared to the first scene, but the idea is that we see some of the cheerleaders and jocks going back to bullying Ruth in version A or Pete in version B (though in a less confident and malicious manner than Max did, as if their hearts aren't fully in it). Ruth or Pete gives some pushback and asks what changed to make them revert to this behavior.

I'm not sure how exactly the bullies express the "why", but in plain-speak, it's this: the students know about Ritchie (and Ruth)'s murder(s), and, maybe more importantly, the "nerdy prudes must die" that was written in Richie's blood. The message they've taken from that is that there is a killer reinforcing the social hierarchies they all abandoned when Max died. And so, with that latent threat hanging in the air, these students have decided to fall in line, in the hopes that they'll therefore be spared. Maybe, even, the murders will stop.

(you could also have one or two kids who are genuinely almost as cruel as max and are using this as an excuse to going back to being the assholes they were before, but you'd need more proper set-up for such a character i think)

Version A is pretty straightforward. I like the idea of Pete and/or Steph being there as well so it isn't just Ruth experiencing the misery (considering where things go from here)... but I know that they need to be dressed as different characters for when Ruth gets to the auditorium, so that probably isn't practical. Maybe there'd be time for Mariah to have made that quick change if Joey really stretched out his bit? But I know the change was tight even for Angela as is.

For version B, you could have the bullies find Steph and Pete at or on their way to Beanie's and be assholes to them there (because it makes sense to me that Steph and Pete would want to have their potentially incriminating conversation off high school grounds), but I think it has more thematic punch to set it in the high school.

Wherever it's set, in version B, Steph and Pete talk a bit about how the bullies' regression sucks, how things are even worse now than they were before Max died, which then leads into their conversation as it is in the actual show over whose fault this all is.

With Pete specifically, I think it'd be neat to call back to what he said to Steph way back in the show about his desire to blend in, to be invisible. That maybe, for a little bit, he liked being accepted, being important (to one person in particular), but it wasn't worth it. And with Steph, if we do have the second dad convo in this version of the show, we can maybe have her comment on how even her dad seems to believe in this bullshit social hierarchy, how they might never escape it.

I mentioned in my post detailing my initial nerdy prudes thoughts that I wished Pete and Steph had a convo that felt like Paul and Emma's convo right before "Join Us and Die". Basically, this is my attempt to give these teens that, without adding an entirely new scene just for that.

As a whole, this scene is my best attempt to Make Something of the themes and plot threads that are so well set up but get kind of lost in the last... third? of the show. Plenty of people have rightly posted that the adults are the real villains of this story. Max isn't scary just because he's one guy; he's representative of larger ideas, a larger system, perpetuated by those adults. Hierarchy, competition, and domination, treated as the natural, necessary state of the world. A system that reduces the personhood of all those ensnared in it.

Those ideas won't just disappear with his death. Max might have peaked in high school even if he lived because of the specific brand of boisterous asshole he was, but the world that instilled those ideas in him, the world beyond high school, will keep fostering and enforcing them, in its more mundane, subtle (comparatively) ways. It will keep producing more Maxs, and more Solomon Lauters.

Like, the whole "fuck clivesdale" bit is a running joke, and a funny one! But, also, I think there's something to be said about the fact that both the teens and adults are all in on this seemingly one-way rivalry, and how much focus is placed on it, in a show about *bullying*. A show about people who have arbitrary labels slapped on them as an excuse to be cruel to them.

"you're fucking losers, and we'll kill you!" isn't that far off as a sentiment from "nerdy prudes must die", is it?

and, like. their team name is the clivesdale chemists. chemists, like, nerds. it's supposed to be part of the joke, i'm pretty sure, that they're named after something nerdy, not a cool animal. if that parallel isn't intentional, then, i dunno man. it's still there either way.

(see also: the musical motif underneath the "who will pray for me" section of nerdy prudes must die also appearing as the chorus of "hatchet town". a motif that plays both when max asks ritchie who will remember him (who will remember *them*), right before enacting his ultimate "justice", and when the adults twist their memories into an excuse for a witch hunt, their own paranoid search for "justice".)

In real life, getting rid of the one asshole at the top of a rotten system doesn't fix the system. If the non-nerdy teens in this school were impressionable enough that one asshole could make them all act in line with his arbitrary beliefs, then his haunting presence (even if they don't know it's literally his ghost) should absolutely have *some* effect on them too.

And I think if you included a scene like this, it would make all that stuff in the script that's subtext, or half-developed, feel like it really was intentional, purposeful.

Does that all make sense? I hope so.

I know that actually trying to fit both of these into the show would require cutting some other stuff down for time, and it would complicate scene transitions and maybe fuck with the overall pacing. Really, this is more a thought experiment than anything else. I'm just glad to have it out of my head after it's been brewing there for multiple days, There's other stuff I'd change if I were to do a full edit of the script, sure, but these are the big things that really would've made the show click for me on the level tgwdlm does.

[catboybiologist]

I maaaaay have spent most of my evening scrolling your dash. But, for my defense, you post good, Ma'am. Also I need someone to tell you your vocal tries are impressive. I tried to stay focused but your voice was so soft, that was lulling.

Anyway, uh, yeah. Question. I was here for a question.

I've just started my PhD, do you have any advice to handle the incoming workload and the pressure?

Aaaaww thank you <3 I might post more voice clips to practice in the future!

As for the question- a PhD experience is highly, highly variable. My advice is going to be strongly based on my own experiences, and my own program. It's probably more applicable if you're in a wet lab science, but still, take it with a grain of salt.

A big thing to realize about a PhD is that it isn't necessarily the sheer quantity of work you'll be doing, but how different the pace and the kind of work you do is from undergrad or a more typical job. Compared to undergrad, your classes will be far less important to nonexistent. Your time will mostly be split between research/thesis related projects, and teaching, depending on the teaching workload.

Your experiences with your research are going to vary a lot, but in general, your PI/research advisor basically determines everything. The #1, big, massive, blinking, do-not-avoid piece of advice I will give about grad school is: pick your research advisor carefully. Do NOT prioritize the exact, nitpicky subfield you want to work in. Your PhD doesn't determine the direction of the rest of your career. Instead, you HAVE to consider whether this is a person you can work for/with for the next 5-7 years. Do you want a more "hands on" person that will set short term goals, or someone that will leave you alone and just check in infrequently to help with long term goals? Do you communicate well with them? What's the word in the department about their mentorship style long term? Avoid people who take pride in trying to "challenge" you, invariably they're shitheads preying on people with more work ethic than self worth (may or may not be based on personal experience lol).

You might be past this point, depending on how your program works- for me, I had a year of rotations before settling in lab permanently. Unless you're a direct admit with an advisor you already know, I would basically consider this or a similar system to be a requirement of a program.

Beyond that, even if you end up in a more "hands on" environment, independence is key. Of course you should collaborate and ask people to help you, but in both a motivation and a practical sense, you should be able to work on your own and take initiative. You need to interpret your own findings and set your own direction for where they're going to go. You need to analyze whether that's in your capability and how you're going to get it done. My personal little advice is to always have at least one thing going on that you can do with zero to minimal input from anyone- for me, this takes the form of computational bioinformatics work that doesn't require any lab resources and most other people in my lab don't have the toolkit to do. Main projects or side projects like this allow you to get *something* done, even if you're stuck in a rut otherwise.

But then there's the flip side to that- you're almost always going to be your own worst critic. Pace yourself. You'll always feel like you're not getting enough done, and you'll fight that feeling constantly. Hell, writing this is like me telling on myself and leaving my own reminder for myself. Balance this with your ability to work independently. Be deliberate about your recreation time and keep yourself to it as well.

The PI selection is the only one that's like, a super strong piece of advice here. But I hope the rest was at least a bit useful!

[thatfrenchacademic]

ahh i should have clarified that i myself don't have a degree (yet). i'm not from an academically inclined background so when i didn't do well in my first two semesters of university (i failed some classes and only barely passed others), i got very discouraged and saw it as a sign that university is just not for someone like me. i then learned a trade and have been working in the field; but i'm interested in going to university as a mature student and i'm going to apply this year for a BA :)

still, precisely because i don't have a degree it really upsets me that someone who used the chatGPT shortcut is a teacher now. teaching high school students is an academic profession, and it doesn't sit right with me how common it is for teachers to say things like "i learned so much useless stuff in university; none of which i need as a teacher"; it's actually really frustrating. then why do you go to university/become a teacher? ??? ????? (i mean i know why, because it pays well here.)

in our country, MA/MSc degrees are required for a lot of positions, so grad school isn't quite as "you're here because you choose to be" but still.. his sentiment is basically, since he teaches high school students it should just be sufficient to be able to teach them, what’s the point of a thesis? like ok with that sort of logic i could have been a teacher with just a high school certifcate. i think tbh there is a wider discussion here about how people just don’t value knowledge too.

he also later said that he sometimes regrets not just paying someone to write it for him and save himself a lot of time and trouble 💀to me that is just the epitome of being so full of yourself. he has just decided that he has what it takes to be a teacher and making him write a thesis is a waste of time because of that. lmao??

also I would like to point out that this guy is not my friend, just someone i met through a mutual friend (and they’re not exactly friends either, they work together💀) i talked about this with my friend and she said that he isn't even the first person she knows who has casually admitted to using chatGPT like this. i guess they feel emboldened to casually admit to cheating because they know that their peers won't report them because that would then make them look like snitches

i'm sorry about venting like this to you; i just remembered that you spoke about the chatGPT problem before

Well first of all: fingers crossed for your BA applications !! Everyone got at their own pace, sometimes you need a few years to figure out how to best approach University!!

That is indeed upsetting that someone who does not value critical thinking and does not understand the point of research/research writing is teaching now. "I don't need it anyway/I did so much useless stuff at school/Uni" is such a dumb. dumb. Argument.

Like, I had to study German and Spanish and Latin and theology. I took the equivalent of AP biology and physics in school and learned how to use a soldering iron and identify rocks. I learned Roman Law, and company insolvency rules, and the procedure to contest a refusal to grant you a construction permit. During my PhD, I had to become proficient in advanced data-driven research methods and 2 different code languages. NONE OF THAT has anything to do with me job, whatsoever. I teach students about the International Court of Justice and some of them are Literature and History majors. I KNOW that their dazzling knowledge in embeddedness theories of international adjudication is NOT what will get them a job.

But it's not about the raw knowledge, it's about

1. Transferable skills: targeted reading, critical thinking, information gathering, writing for different audiences, time management, group work, self-reflection, project management, conflict resolution...

2. Learning how to learn: adapting to new situations, new rules and new logics; switching from one type of reasoning to another; picking up on new practices, new skills, as fast as possible, knowing how YOU best do that: on your own, with friends, listening, writing, visuals, with cues, independently, by teaching...

3. Putting your future work (and honestly, yourself as a person) in a broader context: knowing what the ICJ is to spot dumb and wrong info when you see it. Knowing that it MATTERS that we know different types of rocks, and therefore we should fund research on geology. Knowing quantitative research methods to know when they are used well and when it's bullshit. Knowing that Latin shaped some languages and not others, to understand the limits of translation itself. Knowing how 'generative' AIs work to understand that there is very little about them that is actually 'generative'.

I would evening argue that just being confronted with the sheer vastness of Things and Knowledge and Fields that are not yours has value in and of itself. It keeps you humble, aware that no matter how much you are knowledgeable on your one (1) thing, in the back of your mind, there is the knowledge that there is much, much knowledge you actually do not have and cannot claim to have. OR, in the wise words of Dan Olson on CryptoBros, to avoid being the kind of person that:

"assume that because they understand one complicated thing [...] all other complicated things must be lesser in complexity and naturally lower in the hierarchy of reality"

[lemonadecandy103]

The Way of Life (excerpt)

Rated: T; implied sexual content. A/N: a small section of a shinkane fic I've been working on for months, but I'm in the middle of drowning in med and grad school applications so let me just share the section that I'm most confident in for now. Post-First Inspector. Mild PPP spoliers, more like allusions but anyway. Enjoy!

He trails kisses from her shoulder to her fingertip, whispering “I’m sorry” in between each one, never failing to keep his lips a feather’s touch away from her skin.

“Stop.” She giggles at the tickling sensation.

He lifts his head to look at her. Then continues.

“Stop.” She says again. He doesn’t stop. “Stop it! Kougami-san.” She says restlessly.

“That’s not my name.” She looks at him confused

“Akane. Call me by my name.”

“Just like you were doing it a while ago when we-” “Shinya!”

“Like that.”

He holds a lock of her damp hair in between his thumb and forefinger, tucking it behind her ear. Now, he could see her whole flushed face, spent and glowing with the rays of the sunrise coming in through the windows of her enforcer’s quarters. She’s still trying to catch her breath from their previous activities.

“When do you have to go?” she asks.

“Whenever you tell me to.”

“I’m sure Hanashiro-san needs you on assignments.”

“That may be. But she knows this is important to me. Gino and Sugo can handle it.”

His hands find their way to the scar on her thigh and then travels to an identical one on her side. She feels his fingers repeatedly trace over the area and she mimics the movements of his fingers over the matching scar on his thigh.

“What do you think our lives would’ve been like if there was no Sibyl?” she asks, adding “Would you still have chosen to be a detective?”

“I don’t know. What other life would you think suit me?” 

“Probably a professor. You would teach comparative literature.”

“Hm. And where would I teach?”

“Nara. The local university there.”

“Is that where we meet?”

Akane pauses briefly. “Yes. I study...law there.”

“We marry after you graduate.”

“And move into a small house close to the university.”

“Any kids?”

“Two. Shu and…”

“Joji.” He finishes.

“Yes. While the boys are still small, we come to see you after work, then we go home as a family and eat dinner together.”

He buries his face in her stomach for a while as he tries to process both the overwhelming warmth and heartbreak that was swelling up in him. When he resurfaces, he grabs a cigarette while he repositions himself next to her on the bed.

“Well I didn't think I’d take me for someone who’d be good at words. Much less teach them. There's other people who are better at that. Like Kunizuka and… well another former colleague of mine.”

“Tsubasa Tori-san.”

“Ah yes, her. How did you know?”

There was a long pause, then Akane fixates her gaze on the ceiling. “I’ve watched some of your former case recordings. From when you used to be an inspector.”

Kougami smiles and chuckles “And what did you think?”

“You were very different at that age.” He was more polished and well spoken.

“Different better or worse?” 

“Neither.” She turns to him and smiles.

“But the ‘you’ in those recordings, felt so familiar. Reminded me of Shindo-kanshikan.”

“It’s funny that you say that. Everytime I see that kid, I’m reminded of you.”

“I see.”

She sees him put out his cigarette and lay back down properly. She takes the chance to position herself over him.