#someday my diploma will come

[laisy]

So.. It’s Christmas and it’s New Years Eve and everyone is like “Party Hard” and I’m like Hotch in this gif....

I need to wright my nursing bachelors thesis and instead of this I ‘m browsing  old posts in LJ-  Hotchner and Criminal Minds communities and thinking that I have come to this fandome good  10-15 years late. Where was I in 2010? I was in Supernatural fandome and I had a great time, but still I feel sorry for myself for all the fun and drama that I have missed in CM fandome. Would I like to squee about all the new hot Thomas Gibson interviews and pictures back in the 2010? YES! 

What is now in CM fandome? The new revival is great and I enjoy it tremendously , but for me it’s not the same without original cast. Sadly. 

I have read a lot off comments that people want Hotch back, but we all know this is not going to happen. First off all-  Cancel culture. Actor got punished for something he did, or did not (we will never know what actually happened). Second of all. He is 60 for gods sake, and he has not aged like a fine vine. He looked amazing in his 40th and 50th, but most recent photos, yeah sorry, I’ll pass. And lastly, I don’t think Gibson wants to come back.  He did not have a work since when, 2018? Does he even have an agent now? I bet he still has a steady paycheck from CM and Dharma and Greg reruns, he had pretty sweet deals back then. Is he still living in the guest house of his ex wife in San Antonio, drinking and playing golf? I would not want to come back either... 

Ah.... I do need some good Hotchner centric fics. 

[sockslikeautumn]

Please write more of yandere golden boy (Julian Peyton) and his transformation into a golden boy.

Julian Peyton

Yandere golden boy aftermath

Male original character x gender-neutral reader

SFW, 0.7k+ words, kinda angsty, addiction, trauma, reader, and OC are 18+!

Read the first chapter for more context!

Trigger warnings: Suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentions of self-harm, depression, implied turning yandere/obsessed, cigarettes addiction.

The reader has suicidal thoughts mentioned here!

You are entirely responsible for what you consume.

Thank you so much for requesting this! I literally cried when I read it because I had been struggling with writer's block for months. This isn't all that much of a chapter, but it is important so Julian's character doesn't feel rushed or out of place when becoming our yandere golden boy.

Reading the first chapter again, it does feel like I was creating one of those unique-esc OC's, like "Oh, he's also a lost child from the royal family and oh, he's also a half-dragon, half-demon mermaid!" But I rolled with it either way this time even though a part of his and YN's lore felt a bit too inspired by my own life than it should have.

If my one, and in fact, first ever fan and anon that I don't know personally wants another chapter added, I'll make it special just for you :)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Walking into his house didn't feel dreadful for the first time. Sure, the familiar scent of nicotine didn't fail to hit his nose, but he didn't feel like running away instantly. 

He took off his shoes, old and worn-out. His footsteps creaked on the floorboards and he missed the feel of not being barefoot. Vulnerable. Usually, his head would snap to the living room to see if Mason was still breathing, but now that was the least of his worries. The bedroom door shut behind him. 

Trash, musty clothes, and cigarette packs brushed under his feet. It hadn't come to him that he could possibly cut himself on any glass from the empty bottles, without his will this time.

His safe haven didn't feel the best anymore. Something else felt much more inviting and more… pleasant than the feel of his dirty sheets and the darkness around him. 

You. Little ol’ sweet you from class.

What was your name again? He knew the professors often praised your name but he couldn't remember it.

It was average, you were average. Always trying to act like a know-it-all kid, blending into the group of people he never cared to look in the eyes. Though, now you couldn't seem to leave his brain.

Why... Why did you stop him?

You didn't have to, who would've even forced you to help him out? You weren't lying to him, were you?

No. It was too sincere. Too real to be fabricated.

You described yourself as worthless. You had perfect grades, friends, and a family that cared. What would you be struggling with? You weren't poor, you weren't bullied all your life and you didn't have to worry about someday living on the streets. Yet, you were so similar. 

You were suicidal, you were cutting yourself, seen on your wrist, and you were clearly going through a lot of pain. Was that why you felt inclined to help him? 

He glanced at his bed stand where his phone was, sunlight was trying to creep through his window curtains uninvited. With a groan, he went to grab it, the thing feeling like a brick in his hands. His eyes burned under his glasses at the light.

A solid 46% percent was in the corner and after a couple of minutes, he found the Facebook of his school. It didn't take long to find your face posted on the account, his starting to burn.

You weren't average-looking like he previously thought. Dorky smile, pretty eyes, and a diploma stating second place in your hands. It had your name written. 

Y/n L/n...

Blood rushed to his cheeks like never before. An unfamiliar part of him stiffened, a type of stiffness that was itching only for you. Yearning for the first time.

You were so beautiful... You had these sparkling eyes, silky hair, pearly teeth that he wished were like his, and soft lips he'd one day run his tongue over.

“Fuck..” He groaned from the bottom of his throat. He imagined his thumb was running over your cheek and not the many cracks on his phone screen.

What were you doing to him? He's never felt the need to feel someone's embrace, touch them, maybe even kiss them…

Whatever it was, he didn't want it to ever end.

Will he ever see you again? He did have school tomorrow, would you feel excited to know he hadn't killed himself when you left? Would you feel excited to see him?

He knows he shouldn't feel this way, you were just like the rest of them. Making him feel wanted, loved. But maybe now, he'd find a way to keep that love for himself. Keep you for himself.

Maybe tonight he'd finally clean his room, brush his teeth, and clean his messy hair. You'd like that for him, right? You'd want for him to not fetch his favorite razor and watch the skin roll between the blades, right?

His dry lip rolled between his teeth, your voice playing in his head like a broken record.

"Please, Julian, let me help you."

So shaky, like how the touch of your hand felt.

"Please, Julian."

Just his name alone on your tongue would have prevented his death.

"Julian..."

Just his name would do wonders for him.

Masterlist for Julian

I'm open to all constructive criticism, not bullying!

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Favourite Stucky Fics of 2022

This feels a little bit like a farewell, but don’t worry... I’m never too far away! Here’s my favourite Stucky fics of 2022 :) 

Complete

💙 FUBAR by Ginny_Potter/ @hipsterdiva​ (Post-Endgame Fix-It | 64K | Explicit): Steve jumps in the past to return the Infinity Stones and doesn’t come back. When Bucky travels to 2012 to look for him, the Ancient One tells him just one thing: “Captain Rogers decided to move on”. Back in the present, Sam Wilson is more driven than ever to find his friend, believing him to be lost in the Quantum Realm but Bucky knows, just knows, that Steve made a choice and the choice was to stay in the past. Struggling to cope with a world he doesn’t recognise, Bucky falls in an addictive spiral of jumping up and down the timeline under the vigilant eye of the Ancient One, just to see Steve one more time, just to get his next fix. And in doing so, without even realising it, he heals and in the end finds out if he was right. Or, Time Travel is addictive, Steve is lost, and Bucky slowly realises that healing together is better than healing alone.

💙 he said, there’s a paradise beneath me (she said, am I supposed to bleed) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Hunkyclunks aka Winter Soldier Bucky/Modern Beefy Steve, BDSM | 23K | Explicit): “If you kiss me like that, Rogers, you’re gonna have a hard time convincing me you want to fuck me.” “Can’t have that,” Steve says and— And the fucker bends Bucky back like this is a goddamn romcom and kisses the everloving shit out of him. (Part 1 of some sweet violent urge)

💙 The Devil and Captain Rogers by kocuria-visuals (kocuria)/ @kocuria, zilia/ @ms-zilia​ (Post-Avengers, Canon Divergent | 55K | Mature): Steve Rogers woke up in the twenty-first century and joined the Avengers to defeat Loki and save New York. But afterwards, he finds himself struggling to adjust to his new circumstances, desperately lonely and missing Bucky more than ever. So when the Guardian of the Soulworld visits him and offers to give him one person back from the dead, he jumps at the chance to get Bucky back. The only problem is, when he arrives in the Soulworld, Bucky doesn’t seem to be there.

💙 Maybe we’ll get it all (If we choose one night) by sourwolphs/ @sourwolphs (A/B/O AU, Sex Worker Bucky | 69K | Explicit): As it turns out, it’s pretty hard to find a job as an ex-firefighter omega with PTSD, no left arm, and no high school diploma. After the accident forced Bucky to leave his job at the fire department, he stumbles upon ComfortCycle— a service that helps alphas and omegas get through their heat and rut cycles— and becomes a trained Cycle Partner. And for the first time in his 34 years of life, lonely, rich alpha Steve Rogers is considering paying for sex.

💙 Blooming Under the Dappled Light by thiccbuckybarnes/ @thiccbuckybarnesfic (Historical AU, Secret Identity | 52K | Explicit): Despite being the son of a gentleman, James “Bucky” Barnes could scarcely allow himself the hope of one day being tied to another in happy matrimony. In a society where the first-born children are revered and inherit all of a family’s wealth, last-born Bucky feels trapped in a life he did not ask for. When he makes the drastic decision to run away and become a tutor for a wealthy family, he is hoping to save enough pennies to someday have a dowry and be worthy for marriage despite his deposition. What he is not anticipating, however, is falling into the rough and skilled hands of his employer, the rakish widow Lord Steven Rogers.

💙 Okay, so he can play… (pretty’s got nothing to do with it) by darter_blue/ @darter-blue (University Hockey AU | 50K | Explicit): This is supposed to be Steve’s year. He’s meant to be taking his team to finals. He’s meant to be the number one draft pick. He’s meant to have it all. Until in walks the new kid, with his beautiful face and his tiny shoulders and his long hair and his graceful skating. Who doesn’t look anything like a proper hockey player. Who’s going to ruin everything. Bucky Barnes is about to bring Steve Roger’s world crashing down. And Steve is about to realise that’s a good thing.Maybe the best thing that ever happened to him.

💙 Rhapsody on a Theme by Astaraiche, Bittersweet_in_Boston (Orchestra AU | 41K | Explicit): in which Steve Rogers, principal cellist at the Boston Symphony Orchestra, meets Bucky Barnes, piano soloist and BSO artist in residence, and the inevitable occurs. 

💙  Read, White & Blue by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Shrunkyclunks, Librarian Bucky | 99K | Teen): If Steve was certain one thing would have stayed the same during his sixty-something years in the ice, it was that libraries were still the place to go if you needed information. And Steve needed information. Lots and lots of it. aka Librarian Bucky helps freshly desfrosted Steve learn how to use computers and catch up on everything he missed whilst he was in the ice.

WIP

💙 hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) by buckyismybicycle/ @buckyismybicycle (NHL Hockey AU | 18/? | 55K | Explicit): Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong.

💙 Love isn’t always a ‘coup de foudre’ by Becassine/ @becassine, kocuria-visuals (kocuria)/ @kocuria (Bridgerton AU, A/B/O | 6/13 | 26K | Explicit): When Steve Rogers is presented at Court as a desirable Male Omega to the world, he has no idea what to expect. But after meeting the sought-after Duke of Buchanan through a chance encounter, his life is forever turned upside down.

💙 A Story We Must Tell by AHM1121/ @love-ha-fge​, MissyRivers (Modern AU, Fisherman Steve, Writer Bucky | 8/15 | 61K | Explicit): Or, the story of how ex-military turned Author - James Barnes collides with ex- Army Commander turned Lumberjack/Fisherman Steve Rogers and all the ensuing fluff, drama, romance that comes their way.

💙 This is (not) a Ghost Story [COMIC] by PottersPink/ @potterspink​ (Post-WS | 10/31 | General): Steve moves into a haunted house. Well — everyone else is convinced it’s haunted, anyways.

[letsgethaunted]

Hauntie of the Week!

@marylizabetha

Name: Mary Liz

(Photo taken by capturedbysawyer on instagram)

From: I live in Tokyo atm!!! (working holiday) but I'm from Ontario, Canada!!

Started listening to LGH? from the very beginning! 2019

What is your favorite episode of the pod? Episode 107: The Black Carpet and The Black Diver

Tell us something haunted! Personal haunting, favorite haunted story, etc: When I was a teen I was messing around when my friends and I were using a Ouija Board and faking the answers to be more ominous. My friend Christina made me promise not to call a spirit or she would punch me. I did anyway and immediately a branch hit the side of the house. When we were done I told them I had been faking the whole thing and Christina punched me like she said she would lol. I deserved it. Also, after listening to the episode about the night hag, when I was falling asleep that night, I felt a hand move from my stomach up to my neck. I woke up and ever since then I sometimes have trouble sleeping on my back cause it feels like I'm being choked.

What hobbies do you have? I like to draw and write and hyperfixate on RWBY

Favorite Music: Spice Girls, Janelle Monáe, Kero Kero Bonito, Scissor Sisters, Cocteau Twins

Favorite Movie: Whisper of the Heart, Sense and Sensibility

Favorite Show: RWBY, Steven Universe, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Bee and PuppyCat

What's a personal positive haunting that's happened to you? It can be something small! Just a few days ago was talking to my old roommate (we lived together for three years with her cat Mittens) on zoom and Mittens heard my voice and came over to see me. She doesn't leave her hiding spots often and doesn't come out when my friend has visitors. Except for me because I'm part of her pack T_T

Do you have any pets? yes and no. My brothers dog, Newton and my old roommates cat, Mittens. Also my dog from when I was a kid, Otis!

What's a fun fact about you? I have a Film Production diploma and a Art Fundamentals certificate but no job! That's the arts for you! lol

Is there a charity, non-profit, or cause you'd like to shout out? Black Girls Smile (just gonna copy and paste) BGS is for and by Black women and girls! Black Girls Smile takes a holistic approach focusing both on the individual (Black girls and young women) and their direct support systems (i.e. parents, caregivers, school, and extracurricular personnel) to ensure Black girls have the resources to lead a mentally healthy life, but they also have the support among their stakeholders to aid in the empowerment of their mental health and wellbeing.

Are you a content creator? I am an aspiring YouTuber! I mostly make videos about RWBY but I also post some travel content about Japan and other places I've been too. Kind of figuring out the vibe I want my channel to have atm lol @marylizabetha on YouTube

I also post my art on instagram @marylizabethaart and also here on tumblr @marylizabethaart I want to make graphic novels someday too- that's my long term goal

Anything else you'd like to share? I love graphic novels and highly recommend Monstress, Paper Girls, Saga and Ms. Marvel! Also recommend the show RWBY to people who want to watch a shoujo and a shounen at the same time lol!

Do you want to be the next Hauntie of the Week?

[the-bar-sinister]

Lucifer Was an Angel As Well (3645 words) by thesavagesabretooth Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Ambiguous Relationships, Dubious Morality, Post-Canon, Inappropriate Behavior, vera has a crush on the man who almost killed her, not ship and not not ship but a secret third thing, Extremely toxic, Vera Misham-centric, Kristoph Gavin-centric

Summary: Miles Edgeworth has been looking out for Vera Misham since her father's death, but he's not the one she considers her guardian angel.

The letters had started almost immediately after the devil was locked away from the sunlight, and she keeps them hidden from everyone despite their influence on her.

Meanwhile in jail, Kristoph tries to weave another spell, and regain some measure of control.

-

August 02, 2028– 2:05pm

In October it would be two years since Vera's father had been killed, and she had been put on trial for his murder. It was still a little bit unclear to her how exactly prosecutor Miles Edgeworth had ended up in her life, but he had been waiting in her hospital room when she woke up, and since then he had helped her make arrangements in her life.

So far, most of those arrangements had involved helping her understand her finances, securing her living space, and managing her enrollment in an accelerated adult learning program to officially obtain her high school diploma.

Now the fancy dressed man– who was by now the chief prosecutor– was helping her arrange the next step in her education. 

He took a sip of his coffee, sitting comfortably in her kitchen with her. 

"You're sure this is what you want, Vera? I remember last year we had discussed an art program."

Vera’s hands wrapped around the mug before her, letting the coffee inside warm them as she nodded firmly.

She’d thought about it for some time, of course, turning it over and over in her head on one of her many sleepless nights. She’d written back and forth about it, and debated it both internally and externally to always the same conclusion.

Art had stopped bringing her joy, at least as a career choice. Every time she’d put the brush to canvas with the intent to create something she could sell and survive off of, her father’s spirit hung heavy over her and crushed her creative spark to nothing. With the joy smothered from her dearest hobby, the idea of it becoming her job felt like an ever tightening box.

“I don’t want to make copies anymore.” she said softly. “That includes copying my father’s life. My eyes, my hands, could help people like how Apollo Justice and Mr. Wright helped me.” 

Mr. Edgeworth sighed and sipped his coffee, before putting it down on the counter with a little click. He shook his head.

"I understand, Vera. Sometimes it seems like everyone that this justice system touches ends up becoming absorbed by it. I wondered if perhaps you'd escape the… pattern."

Curse. Mr. Edgeworth hadn't said it. But that was what he meant. Maybe he was right. By now of course, Vera knew about the chief prosecutor's own history. The death of his father. The trial of Manfred Von Karma.

The beginnings of the great prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, in circumstances strangely reminiscent of her own. He’d been dragged into the mire of the legal system. Maybe it was a curse, a fate imposed on those touched by the scythe of death on its path through someone else that you’d find yourself entangled in the complicated and difficult world of the law and justice.

But Vera was no stranger to curses. She sipped her coffee. 

“Sorry Mr. Edgeworth…but I’ve talked it out and come to a de-decision.” Her voice dropped low. “I want to be a forensic investigator. Like Miss Skye.” 

"If that's what you've decided, then I won't try any further to dissuade you." He smiled a rather sad little smile and Vera managed her own fragile one in return. 

“Thank you…maybe I’ll..I’ll get the chance to work with you someday, Mr. Edgeworth.” 

"Perhaps you will. About all this– I heard you'd also been talking to Pearl Fey about the matter."

She nodded. “and I have been…Pearl and I have talked a lot about it, actually. She was …one…of the people I talked to when trying to figure things out.”

"I know she's been quite enthusiastic for herself," Edgeworth said thoughtfully. "Was she the one who suggested it to you?"

She hadn't been.

Vera was absolutely certain Miles Edgeworth wouldn’t have approved of the one who had. Her fingers tightened against her mug, a minute and easily missed sign of her internal spike in nerves.

If Apollo Justice were here, she was certain he would have noticed right away. The one who had suggested the path through the police academy had been another person entirely. A demon hovering over her shoulder, or her guardian angel, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“No, Mr. Edgeworth…she hadn’t. But when I told her I was thinking of joining too, she got rather excited.” 

"A fine coincidence, I suppose." Edgeworth nodded, satisfied. "The two of you have a lot in common, in some ways."

“We do, Mr. Edgeworth?” Vera cocked her head. “..I mean, I feel as if we do, we’ve found a lot of common ground…but I’m curious what you mean.” 

"Well. Without meaning to offend," he said carefully. "You were both raised in a quite sheltered way by a parent who was then… removed from your lives."

“Ah…” 

Vera had heard a little on this, here and there, in her conversations with Pearl. She’d always gotten the sense it wasn’t exactly something she liked to talk about– which was fair. Her own memories of her childhood with her father were complicated and entwined with the gut-wrenching feeling of poison pulsing through her body.

“That’s true, isn’t it..? Leaving us a little adrift when they were gone...” 

Miles nodded again. "Ms. Fey I think is a little bit ahead of you in working through that in some ways, and I think a little bit behind. Perhaps the two of you can help uplift one another during your time at the academy."

Vera leaned forward. 

“I’d like that. Pearl’s a stable presence. Nice. Maybe we could dorm together?” 

It was better than the mortifying ordeal of being set up with a stranger. 

"I'll see what I can do," Mr. Edgeworth nodded. "It shouldn't be a problem. Beyond that– I want you to know that if this doesn't work out, it isn't a problem or a failure, Vera. There's no shame in trying something and then wanting to change tracks."

It was a nice sentiment, but she had no intention of backing out. She’d been raised since she was a child to be an unknowing accomplice to forgery and corruption. Her talented eye and clever hands had rarely created anything beautiful that wasn’t a fake designed to put money in her father’s wallet.

As much as she loved art, this was something that could be all her own..just as she’d said in the letters to the man who’d suggested the academy in the first place.

“I know Mr. Edgeworth,” she smiled warmly at him. “I promise. But I know I can do it. I bel-believe in myself, as frightening as it is.” 

He nodded, and raised his coffee cup to her. "I believe in you too, Vera. I shall be watching your career closely."

August 02, 2028– 3:15pm

 I shall be watching your career closely.

Miles Edgeworth couldn't know that he wasn't the only person who had said– or at least who had written– those words to her in the last few days. With the chief prosecutor gone now, she was alone in her apartment. Just her, and her correspondence.

She sat at her quiet drafting table, unused paints and brushes gathering dust from where her lack of inspiration left them, pen hovering over an empty page as she scanned the opened letter pinned just beside it.

A simple envelope, and a letter scented with a gentle perfume written in careful handwriting.

Her pen swayed in her fingertips as she read it over once more and formulated her reply to one of the most constant presences in her life since the death of her father.

The letters had begun sometime shortly after she’d awoken from her coma, when she’d been getting settled in the new chance at life Apollo Justice had given her…and despite her better judgment, despite the good sense of men like the sort wielded by Miles Edgeworth, she couldn’t stop herself from responding. 

There had been no apology. 

Perhaps that was the most striking thing. No apology whatsoever. The letters had simply started with the tone of a casual correspondence. 

Dear Vera, 

I hope that you're keeping well and you haven't had trouble with your accommodations due to recent events. I'm afraid mine leave much to be desired…

That first letter she'd received almost two years ago– it was so casual. So pleasant.

She’d crafted a frame for it, though she never dared display it where her rare houseguests may see it and wonder. It sat, protected by hand-carved wood and glass, in a quiet drawer next to her drafting table.

It’d been just like its sender– so polite and affable, even when tugging the strings of its trap taut around you. It’d been a comfort to see that he hadn’t changed.

She’d responded in a haze. 

My life is in a state of flux, but Mr. Edgeworth and Mr. Justice have been very kind to me. I may lose papa’s house, but I’m told I should be given assistance to pick an apartment of my own. Are yours so terrible? Perhaps something can be done…And just like that, she’d gained herself the strangest pen pal. A correspondence course in life after tragedy, penned at the hand of the devil himself. And yet– here, 2 years later, she still had pen to paper again behind Miles Edgeworth’s back. 

Two years later, and she had two years worth of letters saved and boxed. She'd received one twice a week, almost like clockwork in that time. More than 500 letters.

It was her little secret, the secret joy and the secret shame all in one, bundled away for her eyes only.

Her correspondence with the man who’d tried to end her life–and the man who’d ended her father’s.

She began the latest letter, chewing nervously on her lip.

As I’d mentioned in my previous letter, I’ve gotten accepted into the LAPD Police Academy with the intention of entering the detective course on my way to becoming a forensic investigator. Mr. Edgeworth checked in with me, but I think he’s worried about the idea of me getting involved in law because of what happened to my father.

Fathers. 

Fathers were something they'd discussed over the course of their many letters.

The devil had never apologized. But he had spoken of his own father. A tyrannical man who had been a famous defense attorney before a sudden and surprising heart attack had made his children orphans.

Any sensible person would have hardened themselves to the story in the face of the devil’s evil, but Vera only ever felt stings of sympathy as she’d responded back. It was through him that she’d started to see the wounds her own father had left on her, and see the lingering spirit of Drew Misham for what he was.

Sympathy for the devil had lead her to respond about a life in isolation after the kidnapping attempt, a father who used her talents for financial gain, the loneliness of being raised in a gilded prison by a man so selfish he’d make a child with a gift into a criminal who knew nothing of the world.

He seems to think our idea is me falling into a curse that befalls those who lose their parents to criminal violence, that it’s somehow inevitable that we’re drawn into the Goddess Justitia’s world of crime and punishment. Maybe he’s right, in a way. Do you think that’s a bad thing? Or is it natural to feel drawn to it like a moth to flame? Some insight from my guardian angel may help. 

Her guardian angel– the devil had often referred to himself as such, after Vera herself had used the phrase. And he generally had plenty of advice for her. The advice hadn't even, as of yet, involved poisoning anyone.

Either way I don’t intend to change course. Pearl Fey, a friend of mine, is going to the same academy. We’d talked about it often after your suggestion and I honestly hope we get the chance to room together. She’s a good person, someone who I think understands the difficulty of growing up like I have. I think I can sway Mr. Edgeworth on it, but if you know anyone who can help I’d be happy.She smiled to herself as she wrote it in elegant script. No…he’d never offered to poison anyone, or for her to. It might be shocking to many, and even herself, but her guardian angel had always given her sound advice. Despite the incident that had left her comatose and sickly, he’d never steered her wrong. Maybe that was why she was so drawn to him and his every written word.

I know things don’t change often in prison, but I hope things have been going well. Did you receive my last painting? I thought maybe if you hung it up it’d make your accommodations a little less stifling. I haven’t had much of the spark to draw lately, but when I thought of your cell I was struck by inspiration.

He'd sent her a picture lately, of his little cell. It wasn't much to look at, though she supposed that it might be considered opulent for a prison. There was a bookshelf, and a little table and chair, but not much in terms of decoration. The photo, evidently, had been taken at his request by a friend whose name he hadn't mentioned.

As comfortable as a cell could be, it was still a cell. Something she knew well from her time cloistered in her father’s moldering old house. So with the inspiration of such a bare confinement, she’d been spurred to take up the brush once more and finished an original painting…an abstract painting of the sunrise as viewed through crystal fingers.

I want to hear all about what’s been happening there, if it’s not too much to ask. Are the guards treating you well? You’ve been on my mind once again…It’s likely too much to wish that you could see me on the day I graduate from the Academy, but I daydreamed that I saw your face in the crowd and could see how far I’d come from the frightened forgery you once knew. 

It was unlikely, of course, that she would ever see him outside those bars. Or even outside that smiling picture that he had sent her, settled elegantly in that chair, by the table in his cell. The devil had been convicted of two murders. He had never spoken of it, and the specifics of his sentence were not public record– it was entirely possible that she would not be receiving his letters for many years to come.

It shouldn’t hurt so badly to imagine the inevitable. Vera knew–the devil was a wicked man, they’d all said it to her time and time again. Mr. Wright, Edgeworth, she’d even seen the pain in Mr. Justice’s eyes when he talked about him. He’d even said it in court. ‘Because I am an evil man’.

But even with all the evidence, even knowing he was the devil himself, she couldn’t help but see him as the angel she’d met all those years ago. Her heart felt tight in her chest at the very thought of the day her letters went unanswered.

I’ll imagine you there. I A tear hit the page to her surprise. She hadn’t been aware she’d started to cry, and yet the evidence lay there smudging the ink. 

Evidence, as the devil himself said, was everything.

And the evidence said that Vera Misham cared very much.

She dotted the paper with her sleeve, leaning back in her chair with a quiet hiccup as she attempted to compose herself. Her face felt hot, and her breath felt ragged as it did on the stand years before, when the charge of murder nearly fell on her shoulders.

…can’t imagine a graduation without the one whose encouragement made it possible. I hope that I’ll make you proud, Mr. Gavin. Her hand shook above the page, speckles of ink joining the damp tear marks from her quivering pen.

August 02, 2028– 3:45 pm

"You know, I keep thinking. It's nice, in its own way, to see you on the other side of the bars, Lana." Kristoph smiled his soft, seemingly guileless little smile at her as she stood in front of his cell door.

Lana Skye had been free now for about a month and a half, after more than ten long years in these walls. So why did she keep coming back?

Maybe it was simply the amount of time she’d called the state penitentiary her home. She’d become quite the staple in the lives of many of the men and women who passed through its barred doors.

Lana Skye, the fallen Chief Prosecutor had been there to offer advice, debate, and friendship to most everyone at one point or another. So maybe instead it was those lingering connections to the unfortunates still behind bars and their untold stories that kept bringing her back.

“I’m glad it can bring you at least a little comfort, Kristoph,” she chuckled as she adjusted her scarf. “I’m sorry I can’t say the same to you.” 

"I suppose I have to lie in the bed I've made, don't I?" he agreed, cheerfully enough. "Unless someone were to overturn my sentence I suppose. Not very much chance of that."

“As we all must, my friend…but who knows. I’m not Chief Prosecutor anymore…but I can certainly put in a good word for you should you ever have a parole hearing.” Lana sighed quietly, tucking a lock of her hair over her ear.

She wasn’t chief prosecutor any longer. In and of itself that was a relief, even with the loss of authority and influence that could have helped those she’d gotten to know. But, somehow she’d found herself back in the prosecutor’s office, starting from the bottom by the grace of her old protege Miles Edgeworth.

“I don’t want to see a brilliant light like your own flicker out behind bars if I don’t have to. You’re a smart man, Gavin…” she placed her hand against the bars, “and if I’ve learned one thing behind bars, it’s that everyone has more to their story than the verdict lets on.” 

"You have a keen eye for that sort of thing, Lana." He lingered near the bars, arms crossed and thoughtful. "You may not be the chief prosecutor any more, but I know that you have the ear of the new one. And I have heard some interesting things about what he intends to do with the position, and has been doing already."

“Yes…he’s asked me advice on it a few times since my release. He’s looking to change the system from the ground up through some rather unconventional methods. One of which, I’m interested to say, was allowing my re-hiring into the prosecutor’s office despite…” she trailed off for a moment before her expression firmed and her eyes hardened, “my part in Gant’s little game.” 

Gavin, on the other hand, smiled a little wider, and drummed his fingers on his elbow. "Yes, Mr. Edgeworth truly seems like a man interested in second chances, doesn't he? It was only last year he had Blackquill prosecuting cases from death row."

Lana chuckled. 

“A bold move, honestly. It worked out well for dear Simon. I’m proud to say he’s back prosecuting cases free of his chains already and has been doing quite well for himself.” She crossed her arms as well, a mirror of his posture, and hummed as she put her fingers to the bottom of her chin. “He seems to believe very much in second chances, and of revisiting facts once thought concrete to find the truth hidden within. He’s a good man, Gavin.”

"I believe that, you know," Kristoph said with a smile. "One wonders how he came by such goodness. But perhaps you could tell the good chief prosecutor that I am eager to be of use to him, in whatever capacity he might put me. Defense attorneys aren't the purview of the state of course, but I'm a flexible man, Lana. Let him know that."

Lana chuckled as her finger hooked against her chin. 

“You know, Mr. Gavin…I was going to offer the same thing.” She closed her eyes with a smile “I’ve gotten to know you over the last two years or so… and I think you’d be a great candidate for his rehabilitation project. I know you’re flexible, and willing to do what must be done, so I’ll bring it up to him during my next meeting, alright?”

"I appreciate that, Lana. Even if it comes to no more than a way to pass the time until the end– well, it's very boring with you gone. All I have to do with my days is read and correspond."

And cry, perhaps. If Lana understood the meaning of the dark bruises, puffy under Gavin's eyes.

Lana would never insult a prisoner’s pride by pointing it out. She had been no stranger herself to private tears known only to herself and the guards who pretended not to listen. So she simply smiled instead with a bow of her head.

“It hasn’t been the same without the chance to speak to you more often, Mr. Gavin. I’ll confess, I do miss it.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll see about getting you some sort of diversion. A new book, perhaps, or a correspondence game– though it sounds like you have something of the sort going? I remember you asking me to take that picture of you, after all.” 

He chuckled politely and bowed his head. "You've caught me, Lana. I am fortunate enough to have my own little correspondence game. But I'll never say no to another diversion."

[museeeuuuum]

I'm sorry if this question has already been asked and answered, but what did you go to school for and how did you enter the field of museum work? I'm currently in university aspiring to someday work in museum conservation, I and would be very grateful for any wisdom you could offer. Thank you!

This has been sitting in my inbox for a long time, partly because I have been trying to sort out how to reply, I do apologize.

I got into museum work in a roundabout way. Once upon a time, I was trying to figure out what the fuck I wanted to do with my life, and what I wanted to do was travel. What job would pay me to travel ? Ah, archaeology! I always saw those khaki wearing nerds in exotic places on TV. And they got to dig up history? Sign me up.

I got a degree in Anthropology. I didn't like it very much. At the same time I got a degree in Classics. I liked that alot more. Having come from a low income family where, to this day, I am the only college/university educated person, I was led to believe by well meaning family members that people would be BEGGING me to work for them. I had not one, but TWO degrees after all.

I spent the two years after university continuing to work at 4 star hotels, cleaning up after sex parties and fixing toilets. I was an idiot and did not apply for many jobs. I was frozen, unsure of how one acquired a career.

I did another fieldschool, got an Archaeology Assistant certificate that feels like it was worth less than the paper it was printed on, and I decided I ought to step up my game. I went and got myself a graduate diploma in cultural resource management, did a little conservation internship at a big local museum that completely changed my trajectory, and also started applying to jobs like I should have been 2 fucking years prior.

I got a job as a commercial archaeologist working on pipelines and the most idiotic hydro damn project in human history. I worked the field and also got lab experience, writing numbers on tiny fragments of rock while the lab director and assistant tried not to tear each other's throats out.

I decided I no longer wanted to be an archaeologist. I worked labour for 15 years and my injuries were stacking up. That internship stuck in my head. I started applying everywhere. Galleries. Museums. Obscure archaeology digs in muddy English countrysides.

I was interviewed for the Assistant Curator position at a small house museum that was trying to start from less than scratch: the site had been horribly mismanaged for decades and the place was falling apart, the collection a mess.

I didn't get the job. But I did get lucky: the woman who got the job got pregnant and they needed someone to cover her maternity leave, and guess who had a shiny new graduate diploma?

I got cold called 7 months later and was offered the mat leave cover. The pregnant lady had her baby and moved to Vancouver and, voila. I got a permanent position.

Some advice: volunteer with museums, make friends, and remember peoples names. Make sure they remember yours. Public history is very chic in museums right now: get a degree in that. Conservation is cool, but you get pidgeon-holed into a job that pays well and has openings once every few years. If you want to do curation and research, get a public history degree. If you want to do collections stuff, look for something that will teach you the basics of conservation and collections management. Learn how to work with your hands, how to work an electric drill, and how to clean (like REALLY CLEAN, not the shit treatment you give your apartment once every three weeks). Connections are everything in this field. The pay is okay, but don't ever expect to own a home unless you have an inheritance.

Most importantly, support your local museums, even if you don't want to work for them. Donate a little extra. Vote for mps or senators or whoever makes decisions in your country, province, state, or municipality who respect education and the preservation of cultural heritage. If you don't, jobs will be cut.

That is the story of how I got into museums and a few nuggets of advice I wish I had been told a decade ago. I entered through a convoluted way, so I am not sure how helpful this will be to you. But I wish you the best of luck.

[somegiantmess]

So the other day I was talking with the director of the team in charge of territory and urban planning from my city (or rather district I think),

and when I said I was an animator of workshops about transports and also climate (the climate fresk I talked about before, and the same one but with mobility) he replied something like "oh so you could do one for us!" (i.e. for him and his team).

And in my head I was like.

Error.

I mean my impostor syndrome is strong. I'm used to be "nothing" regarding my diplomas and my professional life; I've only got undervalued and underpaid jobs until now. For several reasons that are out of topic here.

And now someone that I consider to be socially way above me tells me that I could... do something useful for them?

What the fuck

PS: it also made me happy, and somehow I wish I could do those workshops for them, but now gotta see if that's doable and if my mental state is strong enough to bear it lmao.

Honestly I wish that I can stop feeling like an imposter someday, but my social skills might make that difficult :'(

Edit: thinking of another thing that makes me happy is that apparently the members of the urban planning direction felt motivated thanks to the many meetings and exchanges with inhabitants from my district this year, regarding all the stuff that needs to be addressed and improved. They're gonna have a lot of work (well they already do), and apparently they feel kinda down to come near the end of those meetings. I must say I love the dynamic we have with them myself. First time for me being in regular contact with city officers and we talk about so many interesting stuff (I said I was obsessed by public space y'know), and the officers I saw were pretty nice and competent.

Now I see that a new meeting is planned soon, before the long summer break. Looking forward to it!

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

A Joyful Addition

Day 11 of 2022's 31 Days of Ficmas @doctorroseprompts Prompt: joy Rating: T (mild) Pairing: 10xRose (AU) Summary: Sequel to "The Gift of Hope". Five years on, Rose and James are ready to begin the next chapter of their lives - a diploma in one hand, a diamond in the other, and plenty of room for their love to grow. 2022 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist AO3

“Smile!”

Rose beamed for the camera, barely holding back her laughter as Hope shouted, “Teese!”

“I think you mean cheese, pumpkin,” James laughed, picking her up and sliding her onto his shoulders.  “Cheese.”

“Tha’s what I said, Daddy.  Teese!”

“Cheese.  Ch, ch.  Can you make that sound?”

“Teese!”

He just shook his head, giving Rose a fond eye roll.  “Okay, baby, very good.”

“My turn for a picture with my girls,” Jackie cut in, tapping her foot.  “It’s my daughter’s graduation day, thank you.  From uni!��

“Of course.”  They changed places, Jackie now with her arms around Rose while she held Hope, unable to help the proud feeling inside her.

It had taken a tremendous amount of effort, lots of tears and even more doubts, but she’d managed to not just get into uni, but actually make it through to graduation day.  And she couldn’t have done it without the kind, generous, loving man making faces at their daughter to get her to laugh.

He caught her eye and smiled, blowing her a kiss which she returned, posing dutifully as the two adults she loved most squabbled over the pictures.

“Right, we should be going,” James finally said, checking his watch.  “There may or may not be a couple of guests waiting at the café to celebrate our graduate.”

“What?  Oh, I told you I don’t want a party,” Rose whined, putting her arm around his waist as they headed for the Tube together, Jackie and Hope holding hands and trailing behind them.  “Really?”

He just laughed, shaking his head.  “This is an incredible achievement, and a lot of people want to celebrate it with you.  We’re just so damn proud.”

“Damn proud!” Hope parroted from behind them, making her parents laugh even as Jackie groaned.

“Little ears are always listening,” her mother said firmly, and Rose bit back a sigh; she hadn’t quite accepted James in their lives yet, despite being a steady and stable presence for going on five years, and making Rose happier than she’d ever been.

“Yes, they are,” she agreed meaningfully, making Jackie huff.

They had an entertaining ride on the Tube home; every time the next stop was announced Hope would repeat it, ask how many more stops, she and James would count them together on the map, then she’d turn and report the amount to Rose and Jackie – at which point the cycle would start over.

“I can’t believe how smart she is,” Jackie commented as they followed the pair out into the sunshine, watching as Hope sagged, pouting up at her father, and his dramatic sigh before swinging her up onto his shoulders, listening to her bright giggles.  “She must get that from you.”

“James has a lot to do with it,” Rose shrugged, waving at her daughter when she twisted to see them.  “He’s constantly working with her, and she doesn’t even realize it – just thinks Daddy’s playing with her.  Her preschool teacher, Miss Clara, says she’s one of the top students.  Friendly, outgoing, loves to help.”  Almost overwhelmed with emotion she had to stop for a moment, tugging her mother’s arm so she would face her.  Making sure James and Hope were out of ear range, she said softly, “I know you worry, and that my track record’s not the best when it comes to men – neither of ours are.  But he is so, so good – to her, and to me.  I wish you could see it, because someday, Hope’s going to ask why you don’t like him, and you’re going to be the one who has to answer her.”

Not waiting for a response she hurried to catch up to them, grinning at her daughter’s bright “Hi Mummy!” as if she’d been away for days instead of two minutes.

“Hi baby.”

Her own mother caught up to them then, taking Rose’s hand, and she squeezed back.

-

“Surprise!”

Rose laughed, stepping into the café as the lights came on and everyone cheered.  “Oh my goodness, thank you!”

“Take, take, take,” Hope immediately chanted, pointing towards a giant cake with Rose’s face printed on it.  “Mummy’s on a take!”

“Oh, God,” she groaned, looking at it – it was her graduation picture, but from preschool, not the recent professional one she’d had done.  “Really, Mum?”

“It’s cute,” Jackie defended, “and fitting.”

Rose got pulled into the crowd then – a couple guests my arse, there must be fifty people here – and she accepted their congratulations gratefully, the whole time keeping one eye on the man who’d made everything possible.  And not just the party – going back to school, raising Hope, being a cheerleader and shoulder to lean on.

I want to marry this man.  But is he ever going to ask me?

-

The party somehow simultaneously flew by and dragged on forever – all Rose wanted was to get James alone.  She was just starting to wonder if she’d have to kick people out when Jackie announced that she’d be taking Hope home for the night, her beloved granddaughter already half-asleep in her arms.

When Rose hugged and kissed them both goodbye, though, her mother surprised her by murmuring, “For the record, I suppose you could do worse.  If you’re sure, you’re sure, and I’ll learn to live with it.”

“Oh… kay.  Thanks.”  Rose watched her curiously as James kissed the toddler goodbye, but thankfully Jackie’s exit spurred the rest, and within half an hour, they were alone in the café.

“Finally,” James groaned in relief, locking the door behind the last guest and closing the blinds.  “Did you enjoy your party?”

“I did.”  Arm in arm they made their way through the darkened shop and up the stairs to their private living quarters.  “Thank you – for everything.”

Pausing at the door to their flat, he took a deep breath.  “You’re welcome, but… it’s not quite over, yet.”

Before she could ask he pushed the door open, and her breath caught – the lights were off, but nearly every surface was covered in glowing candles, giving a soft, romantic air to the living room.  Near the couch was a champagne bucket filled with ice and a bottle, and along the way stood easels with posterboard attached, each covered in pictures from the last five years.

“James…”

“Don’t say anything yet,” he said softly, guiding her towards the sofa.  “Let me…”

Rose nodded, heart pounding.  This is it.

Clearing his throat, he wiped his hands on his trousers before taking hers.  “I am so incredibly proud of you,” he started, voice shaky.  “Making it through uni can be challenging under the best of circumstances.  I know it sometimes seemed there wouldn’t be any light at the end of the tunnel, but here you are now, standing in the daylight.  I feel so honored to have been with you along this journey.”  He breathed deeply, lacing their fingers together.  “I don’t want to take away anything from this day.  I want it to be all about you.  There… there’s a question that’s been on the tip of my tongue for, oh, five years now?  And… it’s up to you.  We can open this champagne to toast to your graduation, or… I can ask my question.  If you want it?”

She was already crying, tears streaming down her face, and she nodded.  “I do.”

“Hey, hey, don’t skip ahead,” he chided with a wet laugh.  “Let me do this properly!”

“Go on, then.  ‘Cause we’ve done everything else the right way ‘round so far.”

James paused, then cupped her cheek, kissing her softly.  “I love you, our daughter, and our life more than anything in this world,” he whispered.  “Okay, here goes.”

Taking her hands again, both trembling, he stepped back and slowly knelt as she sobbed.

“You’ve made my life better from the first day you stepped into my shop.  I want to spend the rest of my days loving you.  Rose, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she blubbered without hesitation.  “Yes, yes, yes!”  She threw herself at him, and they collapsed together in a laughing, crying, kissing mess.

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

Eventually he rolled her onto her back, his kisses changing in intent until she shoved at his chest.  “Mhm, wait, hold on.”

“Why?  You want some champagne first?”  His hand slid suggestively down her hip to her knee.

“No, uh…”  She struggled to sit up and he moved backwards, helping her up and guiding her to the couch.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, this is perfect, I just…”  It was Rose’s turn to take calming breaths.  “You know how you said it’s not quite over yet?”

“Yeah?”  Then his eyes widened.  “Oh, shit, I forgot-”  He fumbled a box out of his pocket, cracking it open to show her a stunning solitaire.  “It’s a full carat, white gold… if you don’t like we can get something else-”

She cut him off with a kiss.  “I love it,” she breathed against his lips, letting him slide it on her finger.  “That’s not what I meant, though.”

“Okay.”  Perched next to her, her hands still in his he waited, eyes shining with love, and she savored the moment.

Knowing she had no rational reason to be nervous, she took a breath.  “We’re gonna have a baby.”

“What?”  He looked stunned, like he’d been hit in the face with a shovel, but a smile was blossoming.  “Really?  A baby?”

“Yeah,” she said tearfully, laughing at his awe.  “You’re gonna be a dad.”

His expression cleared at that, giving her a stern look.  “I am a dad,” he said pointedly.  “This doesn’t change anything regarding Hope.”

An anxiety she didn’t even know she’d had eased.  “I know.  I’m glad you feel that way, though.”

He reached out a tentative hand, pressing it flat against her belly.  “How?  When?”

“Well when a mummy and a daddy love each other-” she cut herself off with a giggle when he rolled his eyes.  “I took three tests this morning, all positive.  Based on the calendar, I think we’re about six weeks in.  My guess?  That weekend away for my birthday was a bit too relaxing.”

“Six?  That’s an improvement,” James teased, eyes bright and shiny.  “Last time was twenty-six weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, make fun of the woman carrying your child,” she shot back.  “See if it’s still funny when I’m imitating the Exorcist in the middle of the night.”

He shook his head fondly.  “You know I’ll take care of you – all of you.  You, pumpkin, and this new bundle of joy.”

Their eyes met, and Rose smiled.  “I know you will.  Now, I can’t have any champagne, but we’ve got a lot to celebrate before Hope comes home tomorrow!”

-

Mindful of his precious cargo, James stopped in front of the door for a few moments of quiet and peace before stepping out into the living room.

“Rose is sleeping,” he announced his presence, “but this one’s not.”

Jackie gasped, hurrying forward and beating out the rest of the waiting family- his mother, grandfather, and sister were right behind her though, and he eased through them towards the couch where Hope was dozing, the adults hovering around him, straining for the first glimpse.

Settling carefully next to her, he shifted his bundle to nudge his daughter- his oldest daughter, now- awake.  “Pumpkin, wake up.”

“Wha’s goin’ on?” she asked, bleary-eyed and so like her mother, before she spotted the baby.  “My baby’s here!”

“Yes, she is,” he said softly, “but she’s very new and doesn’t know anything yet, so let’s keep our voices down, yeah?  We don’t want to scare her.”

Hope’s eyes went wide, and she immediately whispered as best she could, “Sorry sissy, don’ be scared.  It’s okay.”

“D’you wanna hold her?”

She nodded, captivated, and he carefully positioned her arms before passing her over, keeping one hand on the baby’s bottom to help with the weight.  “She’s heavy, so be careful.”  The soft snick of a phone camera made James look up; the four adults were arranged around them, Donna and Jackie with their phones out.

“Where’s Mummy?” Hope asked, not looking up from her sister’s face.  “Is she okay?  It sounded scary.”

“It was scary,” he agreed, “but Mummy’s fine.  She’s sleeping right now.  Everyone’s okay.”

Hope trailed a tentative finger along the baby’s face, watching as she squirmed, then gasped when teeny fingers wrapped around her own.  “Are you holding my hand, sissy?  You can always do that.  I’ll protect you.”

James’ heart swelled with love at how tender she was being, how much she’d grown up.  It seemed only yesterday he was holding her, nearly at the beginning of this beautiful journey with Rose; now here they were, six months married, with two beautiful, perfect daughters.  “She already loves you so much,” he promised.  “You’re gonna be her hero.  It’s a big job, but I think you’re up for it.”

“I can do it, Daddy,” Hope said, her mother’s determination shining through.  “What’s her name?”

“Yeah, what’s her name?” James’ mother parroted.

“Maybe we should wait for Rose,” Jackie suggested, shooting Sylvia a dirty look, but he shook his head.

“No, it’s okay.  Her name’s Joy Abigail Tyler.”

Hope gasped softly, gazing down at her sister with adoration.  “That’s so pretty.”

“Joy?” Jackie questioned, at the same time his mother asked, “Tyler?”

James gave them both firm looks.  “Yes.  Joy Abigail Tyler.”

“It’s perfect, and she’s perfect,” his grandfather spoke up assertively.  “Right, squirt?”

“Right, Poppy!”  Hope finally tore her eyes away from her sister to beam up at him.

He patted her on the head, then said would-be casually, “As the oldest, and the one with the least amount of time left-”

“Dad-”

“I think, when Hope’s ready, I ought to be next.  Welcome the little one into the family, you know, as the patriarch.”

Pressing kisses to his both daughter’s foreheads, and with a warning to everyone not to kiss the baby but to go wash their hands, he slipped away to leave them to their squabbling.  Easing inside the bedroom, he fumbled in the dark for only a moment.

“’m awake.”

Relaxing at that he toed off his shoes and climbed into bed behind Rose, spooning her.  “How you doing?”

“Okay,” she sighed, draping her arms over his, “but you’re havin’ the next one.”

“Deal.”

They laid in silence for a minute.

“How’s she doing out there?"

James hummed, kissing the back of her head.  “Everyone’s in love.  Mum’s mad that her name’s Tyler.  Your mother’s mad that it’s Joy.  Hope thinks she hung the moon, and we might have to sue my grandfather for custody.”

Rose laughed at that, but stopped almost immediately, groaning.  “Don’t do that, don’t be funny.  It hurts.”

“I know,” he kissed her again, tightening his arms around her.  “That… was kinda scary.  Next time, let’s go to the hospital, yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to not,” Rose grumbled.  “I was at the doctor yesterday, she said it could be week!  I thought it was Braxton-Hicks.  Delivering on the bathroom floor was not my idea.”

“All’s well that ends well.  We have a healthy baby, a loving family, and the best kid in the world.”

And they sealed it with a kiss.

[masongrizchel]

What High School Graduation Feels Like? 🌟🎓

I graduated high school with the thought of not knowing whether I'd be able to finish or even start my college degree. While applying to several universities, I also submitted an application for a job in a factory. Since most of my acquaintances have jobs, education has become their least priority.🎓👩‍🎓

It was my second graduation, and no one was around to join me. I walked during the graduation march alone with no parent companion, while the rest of my classmates had someone with them. Graduation jitters weren't just about the future; the weight of the coming months settled heavily on my shoulders. With secondary education complete, the familiar routine vanished, replaced by a gnawing uncertainty about how I'd navigate the uncharted territory ahead. 🚶‍♂️💔

A lot of people around me also have plans for me; they will hire me as a helper, give me a job, and make similar kinds of offers. When the day of graduation came, most of the people around me had their respective moments. I have seen them crying and hugging each other; some were kissing. I was just there, standing and observing the crowd, with no clear plans for the future. 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦👋

This is what our typical graduation vibe looked like when we were together. Most were wearing their respective white togas and hats. I cherished the entire ceremony. I told myself that this would be the last time that I would experience this kind of feeling. IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. So while I'm at it, I have no choice but to savor every moment that I have with my friends and classmates.🎓🎉

This is one of the few times that I view my life as unfortunate enough. I don't have a home to call home or a family that we'll be excited to be with this milestone. I'm completely in chaos. But I am there to cherish the moment. I have to feel the ambiance of being with my classmates once again. And believe me, this will be the last time that you'll see your entire block. While there are countless meetups with your close friends, the entire batch celebrating will be the last one.🏠💔

The air crackles with a strange energy—a mix of excitement, nervousness, and a touch of melancholy. Graduation day. A milestone we've all been hurtling towards for years, and now it's here, leaving us teetering on the edge of a vast, uncertain future. 💫💼

High school wasn't always easy and carefree. There were late-night cram sessions fueled by questionable amounts of coffee, bouts of teenage angst that felt like the end of the world, and friendships that blossomed but sometimes faded. Yet, amidst it all, there were moments of pure joy—inside jokes whispered between classes, victories on the field or stage, and the shared experience of navigating the awkward years.🎓💫

Graduation marks the end of an era. We'll walk across that stage, diplomas clutched in sweaty hands, and step into the unknown. College applications, job searches, and the question of "what am I supposed to do with my life?" loom large. But amidst the anxieties, a flicker of hope remains. We stand on the precipice of a new adventure, one brimming with possibilities. We'll chase dreams, make mistakes, learn from them, and hopefully find our place in the world.🌟👣

This might be the last time we're all together, our paths diverging like the spokes of a wheel. But the memories we forged within these walls—the laughter and tears shared—will forever bind us. As we embark on our journeys, let's carry a piece of this shared experience, a reminder of the friendships that helped us grow.🎓🎉

So, as we toss our caps in the air, let's celebrate the past, embrace the uncertain future, and hold onto the hope that our paths may cross again someday. Farewell, familiar halls, and hello, exciting possibilities! 🎓🌟

This is how it feels. And I hope you'll find time to enjoy every bit of it. 🌟💖

[bringbackmaes14]

I think about my best friend of 9 years and how they don't leave their house for medical reasons and how excited they are when I come to visit them every summer because I'm the only non-family member they have who does that.

I think about one of my friends from my second high school, and how they weren't allowed to watch TV/movies as a kid, and how there's so many pieces of media I still want to show to them.

I think about my dog Chunk, and how he gets so excited to see me every time I come home, whether I was away on a week-long trip or he literally just stood at the window and watched me walk to the mailbox and come right back.

I think about how I cause my mom near daily mental breakdowns because I have so many mental and physical disabilities that she has to help me with, but she loves me so much that she helps me with all of them and she tells me how thankful and proud she is of me that I decide to get out of bed every day.

I think about that gen ed writing professor I had in my freshman year of college who told me she desperately wanted me to come visit her again in my junior year so she could fix me up with a writing internship (I'm only in my sophomore year rn).

I think about my gen ed history professor who I love so much, and his wife who's gonna be my mentor in graduate school, and how he told me that the two of them would figure out a way to be up on the stage when I graduate so they can hand me adoption papers alongside my diploma, and I wanna see if he'll actually do it.

I think about every bad thing my dad told me was true about myself, and I tell myself that my life goal is proving him wrong. That everything is not my fault and I am not a bad person or a mistake. That I have a purpose.

I think about how my older sister just found out she's pregnant, and I really don't like kids, and I'm terrified of ever being put in a situation where I have to take care of a little one, but I literally cannot wait to meet this little human being. I want to be a good uncle.

I think about all my WIP fics and how I definitely want to finish them and share them with my friends.

I think about how funny it's gonna be to be in my late sixties and embarrassing my nieces and nephews cracking jokes on April 20th, 2069.

I think about how I've always wanted to learn how to play the Ouran High School Host Club theme song Sakura Kiss on the piano.

I think about how, even though I don't even have a crush right now, someday I want to get married, and instead of throwing an actual wedding, I want to throw a costume party and surprise my friends and family and have a good time.

I think about how if time stops right now, I won't get to see Eddie and Venom be gay married some more in Venom: The Last Dance. I won't get to see Rockstar Lestat. I won't get to see King Laios. I won't get to see the inevitable amazing ship art of Doc Ock and Kaecilius once the Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man animated series comes out and Mads Mikkelsen and Hugh Dancy will have officially brought the Hannibal Extended Universe to the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

I think there's a difference between things you can't do because they take strength you don't have, and things you can't do because they take time, and when things get really hard, I try to focus on the latter. I focus on things I'm looking forward to that maybe I can't have right now but I can be excited about them, and then I can love them when they arrive, like the venom movie or my sister's baby or that summer trip to see my best friend each year.

I'm very sorry to ask something like this, I've really been struggling with this question, and I wanted to ask the combined wisdom of the people on this site

I would like to know why you keep going, and what drives you to keep living. I know there are a lot of reasons to stay alive and enjoy life, I can think of a few that personally resonate with me, but I really want to know what your reasons are

You do not have to comment on this if that's too big of an ask, and I'm very sorry for asking something like this, I really need someone's help, I feel like I don't have much purpose

Also if I may ask, please don't post any suicidal ideation in the comments of this post, I really can't handle something like that right now

[itsaboutpersonal]

This past few days, weeks, months or even year I keep on questioning God why He always remove all the people when I started being comforted with them? Some are my childhood friends while some are my classmates and workmates. Though, some friends are in good possition/ situations now and I know that their role in my life is temporarily over and they play a big part to the person who I am today.

Then before that, while feeling sad and thinking and asking God on my mind why it keep on repeating the scenario? Then, I saw an fb post that pointing out that we see our short comings and felt like we're not enough, then try to look back and see ur self what kind of situation u are in. Do you think your old self will be happy we're u are right now?

Then I started to look back to my old self, I was a tambay, irregular students no one believes in me in school because of being a repeater. Tbh, I really don't know before if I can finish my studies or I can have my college diploma before. I can't imagine myself working in the hospitality industry and having a confidence talking to those people that I really don't know.

Then I realize that everything happen for a reason. Maybe, the reason why God seperated me from them because He will bring me to another level of my life and they role on my life is temporarily over. I am being with theam for a short period of time because they will teach me something that I needed today.

Sometimes, it's hard to understand why God allow things to happen. We can't predict what will happen next. All you need to do is adopt and pick up every learnings, allow yourself to grow and trust God's process. God didn't lead you to the things that will make you suffer or regret. Keep on grinding! Someday, all of your hardwords will be pay off. God bless you!

P.S. "I hope, my future self will be reminded because of these insight/realization that God puts in my mind. God will finish what He started and trust God's timing! 🙏

April 11,2023 Thursday 12:46am

[whsprings]

✨ 🌼 💎 🔮 🌸

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

mot too many, steph, steph-z, tephy :)

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

I was making a tiktok for my 5 followers on there lol but I think it was something like "I hope I can make meaningful progress with my new team even though i am going back to treatment"

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

hmmmm a few come to mind-- my dog, though I consider us friends more than me owning him hahaha, my diplomas, and a piece of art one of my friends made me

🔮 What’s your dream job?

I want to work in research and development somewhere in the biotech world someday

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

not sure if it's the best but one I've gotten frequently is that I give off a calming presence. which is funny considering how much anxiety I have haha

[chocolattefeverdreams]

Ugh I'm feeling like giving up on the entire IB diploma entirely recently, I have a business management ia to finish, ess ia, math ia, the EE, the TOK essay, Economics ia check, and so many tests at the same time.

I feel like I don't even care if I just pass the diploma anymore. I'm just so, so tired. I always feel like I'm not deserving of any rest or sleep if I have not done anything that is related to school. I'm so tired of hearing these thoughts go over and over in my brain. I just want to rot somewhere more often now.

I sometimes even wonder if I actually even like my school anymore. I feel constantly lightheaded in school, like everything is a fever dream, especially in certain classrooms. I have to stim a lot and I have to leave the classroom often just to go somewhere and breathe in natural air instead of AC. I also get hungry in school often, I usually eat lunch at 1 or 1:30 pm but when it's school I come back at 3:30 pm so I'm very hungry and tired by the time I come back.

It sets the energy for the whole day, I don't even feel like taking my laptop out of my bag when I get home. And what would be the point in doing something anyway? It's going to take hours and if I can't even finish it off by that time then there's no point to it for me. I literally took a day off today just so that I could start my business management IA.

And I don't even have close friends or a friend group to belong to at school. My closest friend at school battles mental health problems and I rarely see him there. And I KNOW that it's okay to be alone or enjoy things by yourself, but when you've always sucked at making friends in school it kinda gets to you later on. I feel envy when I see groups of friends and I always wonder if I will actually belong to a group like that someday. Sometimes when some classmates talk to me I always get the feeling it's for a joke which I'm the butt of. Maybe it's bc I have a monotonous way of speaking irl most of the time??

I wish that some of this stuff and all the IAs we do now was actually in DP year 1 BC it would save a lot of stress for a lot of people. Like the business ia could be done in January when I was in year 1 or something. The ess ia too. Instead of it all being crammed later on in 12th grade.

Ok but today, I'm going to make myself the cup of herbal tea I've been avoiding for weeks because in the end, I know I deserve sleep.

[the-firebird69]

I think there is still owned by Harvard come to think of it because he looked it up and they're like the number one landowners in Massachusetts and it was listed as Wentworth and it's a shelter for Harvard they were like number one not number two or three and he looked and it was a massive number of properties and businesses so it's proof really and it sure looks it and it's a rulership house and I do have pictures of what's under the brick and everybody wants to see it and they're all fighting for the certification to be approved no it's approved and they see the letter and they see that it's still owned by Harvard and they have the documentation and copies of the original and what years and it's now in the certification with the board of regents and that's the school board in Boston Massachusetts his name is listed there as one of the top students at Harvard University because of his input during class he would try and keep the class calm and he would try and keep order and he was asking provocative questions so others would think about it and now we understand it he's been doing that and they recognize that stuff anything said that is harvard-level quality educational staff because most people would not and it's attention to detail because he was asking the right questions and they noted that his IQ test no SATs were better than said they're more like almost 700 because he said these questions are not worded correctly. And it was amazing people are are figuring out as famous and certain circles and he's given Danny DeVito a space hug he says really probably awful it's kind of even weird for me even though I spend my whole life in space and he says it's not really the greatest and someday I'll be in the reading room and he'll probably hand me a book from my clan and he's smiling and saying I know how to do that

So it says he's reading and boom the book goes on his face and he's out he never used to do that but the people here exhausting there's methane it's not enough oxygen he's riding his bike to get things I mean this is awful and it is it is certified by Harvard you can't see it on the diploma he has but I now see why I helped get it there and others and Alicia had a heartache she could not believe it and she's saying he's one of us and we went there too and I didn't say it for you not to tell I told that him blockhead guy not to tell so she started laughing and she said okay and I said now it makes sense but they're doing the job and she smiled and said you're right so she commended them and wrote them out for doing a great job all of them and it was hard but he really needed to go to some place and relax so now the Golden corral is going to be famous it's kind of tough nowadays okay but someone was real good in the beef stew and he probably blames his mom and she says I was helping so she needs to be commended and I do have a list of people who are doing it this is way too hard and I'm telling the max I got to calm down and stop throwing stuff they're going to do that now that we're recovering trying to and it's going this is amazing find he says houses and his brother probably put him through school and he was saying it too it's like one of us going to school with them and actually surviving and it's strange for him they were kind of pushy and mean and they got them hurt a lot by other people and to take stuff so watch out this is got a secret meeting to it

And my grand nephew says because of a different origin location shall we say that he's saying something about him too it's not really nice but it's more like you've taken him away too

Mac Daddy

Olympus

I get some too I'm being very helpful but now he wants me to say something and usually is rushing along and I get in the wrong place I'm strengthening him and he says it kind of works that's some really tired and grouchy so I understand that so I am thinking about this why is this help and I heard it come out of Max's mouth so I'm interested because he knows about it and he says you can't have someone in Harvard being poor and a lot of them are doing that and professor Court actually teaches at Harvard or taught recently and professor Green and they're thinking about it too and if anything it's a division of Harvard and they should help each other and they were calling to talk because he's got a famous name in construction too and Max said he was written up for a whole bunch of projects that he was involved in and ones he was on and for what he was saying and doing he went to the Suffolk county trial courthouse and he said there's too much concrete it's too heavy and it's not well supported and the designers looked at it and out of the island if you're getting stuck in the mud you have to do something to meet the schedule and they can try and figure it out while you're doing it and it saved a lot of money had something to do with the big dig too cuz I haven't seen submerged tunnels and it's crazy stuff but they wanted to speak he says he has to get his clothing line going then he has to get the Pantera oh well she has to find Hera and it's really like a double so we're going to go nuts cuz that's kind of fun but he's thinking maybe come up with a cruiser and pick professor Green up and Wellesley and drive up to school and he's kind of like no okay he'll pick him up in the other one his dad had and you can ride in the back he says that's a little bit better it's kind of funny doesn't have to tell him who he is he says well I might have to do that LOL and yeah that's smack daddy that's me

[abbysalvador16]

CHANGES IN MY LIFE

As I sit down and think about my past decisions for the last couple of years I can’t take away the smile on my face and imagine the bright futures that awaits to me and my family. The thought of after all the wrong decisions in life I made here comes a new opportunity that gives hope for a new beginnings.

After I gave birth to my kids I thought that my only responsibility and role in life is to take care of my partner and my kids. It stucks in my mind that all I need to do everyday is to prepare their meals, bring the kids to school, wash their laundry, clean the house and more I never see myself doing other things, for me only role in life is to be a mother and to be a partner, until one day everything change when my co-parent in school ask me if I want to enroll in ALS a program of DepEd for out of school youth and elderly who did not finish their study for them to be able to get their diploma at first I was very hesitant If I wanted to enroll and go back studying because i don’t know if i could study will doing my role as a mother, but i want to give it a shot so I consulted my partner and asked his opinion and after of some series of discussions and planning I decide to enroll and go back to school and start my learning journey again.

Now looking back on my biggest decision four years ago I can’t help but to smile and be proud of myself because after the long journey here I am right now near at the finish line in achieving my goal to have a Senior High School diploma and now I am also ready to my next journey entering college and become a teacher someday.

[jamiefantana]

Sunday Scaries Somedays Scare Me

   This was my first ever tinyletter column.  Written... oh damn, 2/20/22.  

   I had something totally different for this, already written, but I want to save it for later.  Also, it's Sunday evening and I'm in my feelings.   The first time I heard the phrase "the Sunday Scaries," I was in South Korea.  It was 2016, and a co-worker of mine just let the phrase drop in the middle of whatever mixture of self-deprecating-rants-masking-actual-self-loathing talk he was talking.  I remember asking him about it, and he explained that it was the dread one feels right before the beginning of another week.   I was shocked and awed.  It put into perfect definition a feeling I've had basically my entire life.  I don't know who was the first person to come up with the term "Sunday Scaries," but they were probably German.  East German.   Even as a young James, a Lil Baby Jamie if you will, I've had periods of things being rough.  Middle school, as a whole, was pretty awful.  Puberty was striking everyone down, like Darth Vader.  Or Covid.  We were getting the hormones without the maturity.  And oh did I dread going to school, being at school, doing school work... high school was alright.  Even went to prom with a pretty redhead.  But around that, school could suck.  To this day, my pulse quickens when I hear the theme song to King of the Hill.  And I like King of the Hill!  Everybody does!  But hearing that country-fried guitar meant that the week was coming.   Times change, people grow.  You enter a period of your life called college, and suddenly your biggest concern is "am I going to pass this class?" which if you're like me, your answer will be "of course, you're an English major, you'd have to work harder to fail it."   But then with that English degree so easily won, you get out into the real world, and upon learning you can't just show up in Los Angeles with a diploma and get hired to write for King of the Hill, you tend to find work wherever you can find it.  Hell, not just liberal arts majors, a large part of millennial job interviews go like this-   "Says here you graduated in 2011 with an English degree."   "Yeah, that's right."   "Then you got a job at Home Depot."   "Sure did."   "And then a job as a barback at Flannigan's Hole."   "Uh huh."   "Your last job was as a mutual fund representative for DNR Analytics."   "It was."   "Just curious, why did you choose this career path after college?"   "Because I didn't want to be homeless.  Now Bob, tell me if I'm gonna be able to pay rent this month or not."   As an adult, you get reacquainted with the Sunday Scaries real quick.  And if you missed them the first time, you partake in the shared experience of the rest of us.   The Sunday Scaries exist as a kind of silent alarm.  A sign that you're not where you want to be, either socially, financially, geographically, or psychologically.  Nobody completely satisfied with their life feels them.  John Cena probably wakes up, does the "you can't see me" taunt to the sun, and then gets ready for his day of being a beloved former-professional wrestler/current critically acclaimed action-comedy star.  Mark Zuckerberg probably gets up, attempts to mimic human emotion, reboots, then recommits to his mission of brainwashing Boomers and destroying democracy.   The Sunday Scaries are for the rest of us.  And they existed long before the official term.   In music, Moz moped that "every day is like Sunday/every day is silent and grey."   In literature, Toru Watanabe in Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood wondered "how many Sundays - how many hundreds of Sundays like this - lay ahead of me?  'Quiet, peaceful, and lonely' I said aloud to myself."   Saturday night is the party night.  S-A-TUR-DAY-Night.  Sundays are the hangover.  As a kid, you get the world's most uncomfortable clothes pulled over you and find out how you were born hellbound.  As an adult, you wake up with a headache, sometimes alone, sometimes with a stranger, as you listlessly scroll through social media and compare your unedited behind-the-scenes footage to the world's highlight reels and realize even the mature and secular can create their own hell.   All one can do is try to attain a life where the Sunday Scaries don't exist.  To return to those halcyon days, whenever they were for you personally, where the upcoming week held no particular power over you.  Or, god forbid, held promise and pleasure.  Sure, it might be tough to do in a world with a global pandemic, global military conflict, global unrest, growing income disparity... but nobody every said it'd be easy!   Now if you excuse me, I'll wrap it up here.  I have to do my weekly wash and prepare for another week as... data... transponder for a financial... oversight... I have a desk and quotas.  I know that much.