#sure why not i have no free time and am starting a certificate program next month LET'S DO ALL THE THINGS
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act iii: final notes
edit: 4/9/2024: added some more stuff!!! i'll put this emoji 🫧 next to the new things so u know where to scroll.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH I FINISHED MY FIRST FULL LENGTH FIC HOLD ON LEMME JUST THROW UP IN THE CORNER REAL QUICK
i am sooooooo normal rn anyways let's get into it thank u for having me on the show, mr. kimmel. i've had a raging headache all day so the content underneath each sections will be kinda short. i'll go through and add more to it once i recover but i wanted to get this up before the week got too busy!
krolia
guys…. im so sorry for the angst….. it was necessary for the plot…….
maybe it’s just me projecting but in the actual show, i kind of wish we had seen more of the emotional fallout that occurred after krolia revealed that she was keith’s mom. because let’s be real here, there’s no way that keith’s traumatized ass would just willingly accept her back into his life. he’d have questions. he’d be in disbelief. it’s hard for him to open up to others and he carries a lot of hurt from being abandoned.
it was crucial in the course of this fic to have that confrontation between krolia and keith. it's not always going to be rainbows and sunshine, and even though they both missed each other deeply, you don't just automatically connect and forget everything that's happened. even if keith hadn't gone into the foster system, he definitely would have carried a lot of anger and hurt towards krolia when she shows back up. i'm sure that things won't just be smooth sailing and they'll need to hash things out multiple times as they rebuild their relationship but that first fight was a big hurdle to get over.
if you’re curious, i have a whooollleeee backstory for what happened with krolia and why she couldn’t get back to her kid. i couldn’t really fit it into the fic but i’ll put it right here for those who are interested:
2000: krolia in the US on student visa, first year of of PhD program
krolia meets heath and they fall in love
2003: krolia gives birth to keith
2008: krolia finishes grad school/PhD program/doctoral degree and applies for a work visa
2009: she and heath and baby keith are living their life but krolia’s parents find out and are like girl you need to come home NOW or we will disown you
krolia’s family are really wealthy and powerful
krolia: i’ll come back for you guys idk how but i will
krolia goes back to the states
2009-2011: she and heath write letters but then the letters start getting intercepted by the family and eventually peters out
krolia in arranged marriage and thinks her partner forgot about her or didn’t care
meanwhile heath doesn’t know what happened to krolia but can’t do anything about it bc she’s in a diff country and he doesn’t speak korean
2011: heath and keith move to texas for job or whatever
heath tells keith all about krolia and how she loves him but can’t be there and obvi that fucks keith up bc he misses his mom but where tf is she? how does he know she loves him if she’s not even there? he's a little kid
2013: heath dies and keith is put into the system
heath has no other family members
krolia put her english name on the birth certificate and so ofc she doesn’t exist in the US
texas social services try to reach out to krolia along with some friends but letters are intercepted
2016: someone reaches out to krolia after she finally gets facebook
friend: thinking of you. miss you. so sorry about heath
krolia: …. what the fuck about heath?
friend: uhhhhhhhh
krolia goes on rampage to her family like wtf u mean u didn’t tell me that the father of my child is dead
cousin shows up with the intercepted letters (official notice from social services, heath’s letters and pictures, keith’s little notes and drawings)
krolia starts the process of legally and financially emancipating herself from her family (she basically was Britney’d)
2017/2018: finally is free and able to get a job in the states
starts tracking down heath (they only had a forwarding address for krolia so they’re like wtf who is this bih)
at this point, keith has already met the shiroganes and changed his name
krolia is in a different state and can only do so much
spends the next few years trying to find him, hires P.I., again keep running into blocks bc social workers and case managers are NOT going to budge on giving up keith's personal information
2023, winter break: krolia reaches out to keith through facebook but it goes into his spam since they’re not facebook friends
allura
what better allegory for sacrificing yourself to save the universe is there than graduating college? in all fairness, i felt like sticking to the notion of allura saying goodbye and leaving the group had its merit, just y’know, i wanted to take a step down from the whole dying thing. i tried to pay homage to the canon material as much as possible while also providing my own spin on things.
one thing that’s been important to me is depicting allura as a college student. sure, while i think most iterations of allura as a kind and a great leader and intelligent are great, even in modern au fics, i just wish there had been a bit more... silliness? outside of her being like the girlboss, the hell yeah supporting character or love interest or bone-tired leader, i always wonder what she would have been like if she hadn't had to save the universe and was just trying to heal on her own terms. yeah, i nerfed her parents in this universe but i tried to showcase her doing normal college things as well, like presenting at research conferences, getting a bit messy drunk, having pizza nights and group hang outs. the funny thing about grief is that life does not stop for it, so you have to just figure things out along the way.
i also didn't want to elaborate too much on her relationship with lotor. she didn't magically heal from that one conversation with lance in chapter 8 but i wanted the readers to get a taste of what was going on in her head through their dialogue. plus, it was a little moment to show how she was allowing herself to open up to other people like lance. no one woman is an island, no matter how much of a bad b!tch you are.
🫧 also, i wanted to include it somewhere but basically, keith knew allura and romelle were hooking up since chapter 14! keith caught romelle sneaking out of allura's room early one morning and he just kept it to himself because snitches get stitches.
pidge
they are so precious to me. they're an amalgamation of 2 of my closest friends, and well, me.
i always knew that pidge was going to be a super important piece in klance development. while lance and keith are great friends, i think pidge played a crucial role in bridging them together in the beginning, before the two of them had cleared up their misunderstandings and made that truce. sure, allura asked them to be on the paintball team but pidge really forced the two of them into close quarters. lance might have extended the offer to keith to hand out without pidge or he might not have. honestly, i'm not really sure. but pidge inviting keith to hang out in chapter 4 was a quiet but big moment because both keith and lance are friends with pidge and will set aside their differences long enough to tolerate each other's presence in a shared space. pidge just has #babyofthefriendgroup privileges.
🫧 i honestly think that after the main two, pidge has undergone the most growth (physically and emotionally) throughout the fic, even though they're a supporting character. we can all benefit from community and friendship but i think pidge needed it a little bit more.
🫧 i partially wrote pidge to represent my younger self, especially when i first attended college. i was scared and alone and i had never been away from home and it was a struggle to form new relationships (and figure out my gender identity. mannnnnn fuck that). it was nice to see pidge find their place and niche among the greater social fabric of college, kind of like comforting my younger self for all the loneliness and uncertainty i endured.
hunk
i love hunk so dearly. ngl, i wanted him to have a bigger arc than he did but hopefully i did a decent job at making feel more well-rounded as a supporting character. i decided to actually kind of lean into this distance in the later chapters as well, esp from lance's pov, as they both got busier. at the end of the day, though, i knew that those two would come back together. hunk is a kind and sympathetic friend and his and lance's friendship will persevere because they're good communicators. their little talk in chapter 17 was me talking to myself and to anyone else who has went through a similar thing where they find themselves drifting a little farther from a friend.
people get busy and that's okay! there will be ebbs and flows in every relationship. even though shared history is a crucial part of a friendship but it can't be the only thing that will keep it going. you need to nurture it and tend to it in order for it to keep it alive and flourishing. hunk understands this and he and lance will be just fine after their talk. hunk is probably the most emotionally intelligent person after adam in the group, and i'm glad he was there to help both lance and keith out when they needed it.
adam
this man!!!!! got i have gotten so fucking attached to adam throughout this fic. he is so dear to me. i know in chapter 10 i wrote from adam's pov and he's a goofy guy in his twenties who's just trying to be a good dad friend but somehow he ended up being a voice of reason and comfort for klance in this fic. lance misses his family a lot and i think adam can not only relate to lance with the homesickness but also lance has started to rely on him a bit like he would with his siblings.
i wanted to try my own spin on adam and keith's relationship. i've seen fics where adam and keith hate each other, don't interact much, or adam takes on a parenting role towards keith as a kid. i wanted to look at keith and adam in the context of two people who both love shiro and then grow to be good friends/surrogate brother-in-law? idk. long story short, adam is very emotionally intelligent and i think he genuinely wanted to get to know keith outside of his connection with shiro and was patient enough to coax keith out of his shell. i tried to write in small ways adam takes care of keith like giving him LactoJoys because Keith likes the taste better than Lactaids, being there for him for his panic attack, adding food to his plate. things that won't draw too much attention, because we all know how keith is about receiving acts of kindness.
i mentioned this in a comment under one of the chapters but all of the advice adam gives keith is either advice i personally received myself or something i wish i could tell my younger self. i hope those words bring you comfort as well!
shiro
i had a lot more planned for shiro but goddammit i had no fucking time or space at this panned out. it's more so klance's story than shiro's.
look, there's a small moment in chapter 18 where shiro is very pleased (and a little surprised) that keith has talked about him with krolia. it has less to do with his faith in keith and more with how he sees himself. shiro has already acknowledged that he has heavy imposter syndrome and deals with his own struggles with self image. it's just always a jolt to your system when someone (could be your own family or your partner of years) validates your relationship.
shiro loves keith very much and just wants to be the best big brother. he has such eldest child syndrome, where he tries to pretend that everything is fine even though things are actually crumbling around him. the thing is, though, you can't build intimacy— real, lasting intimacy and depth in a relationship— without being vulnerable. shiro understands that even though he wants keith to work on opening up, he has to do the same and reciprocate the actions, or else neither of them will really get anywhere and be stuck in that loop of "are you mad at me/i feel like you're hiding something from me/i don't really know who you are."
i tried writing a bit from shiro's pov but i quickly realized that that would drastically change the tone of the fic so i had to scrap it. i might post a little oneshot in the distant future with adashi, though.
keith
🫧 i've talked about this before but although i think keith grew the most as a character in the canon show, that shit was WAY too fast and off-screen. also, i know that the whole found family trope is what drew a lot of fans to voltron in the first place (like me) but is the found family in the room with us rn? i felt like they all started to fall apart or at least weren't as close as the show wanted us to believe. it felt a lot like telling with no showing. other than some occasional moments in the show, the whole #teamasfamily felt hollow.
🫧 i wanted to build on this potential found family for keith's character. he's never had a support system before and he's used to pushing people away but now he has a whole ass friend group that's ready to fight for him if he gives the word.
🫧 initially, when i was writing keith's pov and trying to get a feel for his voice and tone, i struggled a bit. keith is one of those characters that i liked and sympathized with, but getting into his head was a whole different story. i'm more of a lance kinnie but once i got the hand of keith's voice, it was a lot easier. some of my best pieces of writing are from keith's pov! i tried to be as cognizant of keith's development as much as possible as i wrote (think me having various checkpoints for his journey whereas with lance i could just coast on vibes), and i'm pleased with how far he's come.
🫧 although both keith and lance's progress can showcased through their consciousness and thoughts (like duh ur reading from their povs), i leaned into keith's behavior as a way to portray his progress a bit more than lance. things like him being more open to physical affection, not sitting on the outskirts of group dynamics and sticking to shiro, and allowing himself to collect things, which by the way:
🫧 i like the idea of keith's room, once being so empty and ghost-like, is now full of stuff, mementos of his relationships that he's built. i tried to sprinkle in some relics from past chapters (paintball flag, polaroids, ticket stubs), as well add some new tidbits, like shiro giving him a cacti and that korean cookbook!
proud of u, keith bby <3
lance and marco
no i did not just torture lance for the sake of torturing him i would never do that to my boy.
i know this is a fanfiction, but from the start, i wanted to ground this fic in reality and breathe some life into it. lance's little arc with his brother having a substance abuse problem was loosely inspired by events in my personal life.
🫧 i'm not saying that everyone goes through something as drastic as a loved one going to rehab, but as young adults, when we leave home for uni, jobs, other opportunities, etc, there's this worry that something bad will happen while we're away. and often times it does. someone gets sick, a beloved pet passes away, it's all bound to happen. your childhood becomes a thing of the past, and things that you thought would stay the same just won't.
i projected a lot of my feelings onto lance ngl, and writing him work through his own grief and guilt over not being able to be with his family when they're going through a crisis helped me process a little bit more.
although lance had a happier ending than a lot of families might get in reality, i still wanted to show lance having a support system at college and realizing that he has a second family to lean on, and people who love and support him. he doesn't have to pretend to be okay for anyone and that's okay.
black paladin lance or as close to it as i could get
it was so important for me to make lance the new captain of their paintball team, as a stand-in for the black paladin arc he could have had in the show. he’s always been a selfless guy who puts others first and really pulls up when he needs to. he deserves to be recognized for that. not only did every single one of his friends validate him, but the person he looks up to the most literally endorsed him. lance struggles with his inferiority complex and the election scene was a little feel good moment for me, personally, so that he could receive the acknowledgement he deserves, especially with his growth. he's gonna be an awesome team captain (he'll be shuffling down to shiro's room at 2am covered in hickeys and talking about paintball strategies).
wrapping up loose ends
i tried to wrap up as many loose ends as possible and give all the characters a proper send-off. originally i wanted lance and hunk to also move into the house in castle street, like repurpose the basement or something but i realized that that just wasn’t possible because most college basements don’t even have heating or like,,,, a livable arrangement.
ultimately, i think it makes sense for pidge to be the one to take up allura’s room at the house. pidge has lived a single during the academic year but they also had lance and hunk right fifty feet away so it’s not like they REALLY lived alone that year. there was also the logistics of the house having a vacant room, and as much as i would have loved to have all of voltron under the same roof (hunk and pidge sharing a room, keith and lance sharing a room), i think they would kill each other. pidge filling in the gap felt like the right move. and lance and hunk are gonna be over a lot anyways, so it’s not like much has changed in the trio's group dynamic.
🫧 what was your favorite chapter to write?
i think i have different chapters in mind for different reasons, even if it's a copout answer. here are the chapters that are dearest to me:
chapter 4: recalibration this is the chapter where i really got to play around with character interactions. keith and lance's worlds were beginning to integrate in chapter 3 but in this chapter, i got to explore different friendships, like keith & pidge and lance & hunk, and the dynamics they entailed. you can see how important these friendships are to both lance and keith, and how their connection with others eventually helps them to reflect on their previous feelings toward each other, like "hmm maybe i've been too harsh with the other."
chapter 10: let's go to the beach the group dynamics were so solidified to this point, and it was so fun to write. i loved writing from adam's pov and being able to zoom out and showcase klance's relationship progression.
the winter break interludes i waxed poetic about these in a previous faq but to reiterate: i'm really pleased with the way each individual chapter turned out. i love a good character study, and it was a great challenge to my writing and characterization to dig deeper into their home lives and see how the past confronted the present, where their respective childhoods were brought into the light, and how long-held notions of belonging, home, and identity were challenged and remolded.
chapter 17: warm and light my beta reader drunkenguac said that this was some of my best writing and i've been coasting off of that validation for the past 4 months. keith's reunion with his mother was especially cathartic for me. as an adoptee, writing this chapter honestly helped me work through some of my feelings about my adoption as i pictured what it would look like if i was ever reunited with my birth mother. i'm very fortunate that i didn't have to go through the same experiences keith did, but i tried to imbue as much humanness as possible into his section.
chapter 18: moving on it just felt like a proper send-off, the one that we never got from s8 of voltron. i wanted the last chapter to basically have this vibe of "hey, things won't be the same but it's going to be okay because we have each other." when shiro tells matt in the end, "we'll still be here," that's me as the author, telling you, the reader, that this fic will still be here whenever you want to revisit it. it was a comfort to write and i've heard that it's a comfort to read, which is so so so gratifying. when i set out to write this fic in august of 2023, i didn't have any plans of grandeur or even expect like more than 100 people read it— it was just a passion project that i decided to share, and i'm glad that others have sought safety in it. outside of fandom, this fic is a love letter to my own college experience. i remember reading a college au fic when i was still in high school and lonely and closeted and repressed and wondering if i would ever be able to get out of my hometown and find a community as tightly-knit as the fic portrayed it. in a way, i got to reflect on my college experience by writing looking out for you. i find solace in this fic when i read back over it, and i can see aspects of my adventures throughout my freshman and sophomore and junior and senior years, waving from behind a thinly veiled curtain. this fic is dedicated to all the people who made my college experience.
anyways that's me rambling for now! thank you again to everyone who has tuned into looking out for you. this is the first piece of creative writing i've done in a long time, and i never expected to actually finish it. i'm so happy with the way it turned out and the love it's received. until next time!
#ao3 fanfic#voltron legendary defender#klance#college au#lance mcclain#keith kogane#takashi shirogane#adam voltron#hunk garrett#pidge holt#allura vld#graduation#faq#character study#relationship#connection#fuck s8 let's talk about the REAL ending of voltron#allura does not die#character development
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How to Become a Software Developer Step by Step
So, you're thinking about becoming a software developer, huh? Awesome choice! Software developers are like the rockstars of the tech world. They create apps, websites, and all that cool stuff we can't live without these days. But how do you actually go from "I have no clue what I'm doing" to "I code for a living"? Let’s break it down, step by step, no fluff—just real talk.
Step 1: Are You Sure About This?
First things first, ask yourself: Do you actually like solving problems? Are you cool with staring at a screen for hours? Because, spoiler alert, that’s a lot of what developers do. If you’re in it just because “software developers make bank,” hold up. The money’s nice, but if you’re not into tech, this might not be the vibe for you.
Step 2: Learn the Basics (No, You Don’t Have to Be a Genius)
Start with the basics. What’s coding? It’s basically telling a computer what to do. And, trust me, computers are clueless without you. Begin with beginner-friendly programming languages like Python (super chill) or JavaScript (the cool kid of web development).
Where to Learn:
FreeCodeCamp (It’s free. Duh.)
Codecademy
YouTube (Seriously, YouTube has EVERYTHING.)
Pro Tip: Don’t just watch tutorials. Actually type the code. Mess it up. That’s how you learn. Coding is like riding a bike—except the bike is on fire, and you’re also on fire. But hey, you’ll figure it out!
Step 3: Pick Your Path
Now that you’re dabbling in code, you’ve got to choose what kind of developer you want to be. Wanna build websites? Go for front-end (the pretty stuff) or back-end (the nerdy stuff). Want to make mobile apps? Check out iOS or Android development. Feeling ambitious? Be a full-stack developer (do both and flex on everyone).
Fun Fact: The tech world’s full of options. There’s even something called game development—if you want to be the person behind the next Fortnite or whatever the kids are playing these days.
Step 4: Get Your Hands Dirty (Figuratively, Please)
Once you’ve got the hang of coding, start building stuff. Like, real stuff. Make a to-do list app, build a simple website, or create a game where a cat jumps over pizza slices. It doesn’t have to be fancy—it just needs to work.
Pro Tip: Put your projects on GitHub (aka the LinkedIn for nerds). It’s where companies check out your work.
Step 5: Get Some Real-World Experience
If you’re feeling brave, dive into internships or freelance gigs. No one expects you to be a coding ninja right away, but working on real projects will level you up. Plus, you’ll get stories about how you once fixed a bug at 2 AM with coffee in one hand and tears in the other.
And, hey, don’t forget hackathons. It’s like a coding party—but with prizes.
Step 6: Learn Version Control (Yes, It’s Important)
Ever worked on a group project where someone deletes your work? That’s why we have version control systems like Git. It’s basically a time machine for your code. And once you get the hang of it, you’ll feel like a superhero saving the world from messy code.
Step 7: Create a Killer Portfolio
A portfolio is your "LOOK AT ME!" moment. It’s where you show off your projects. Add things like:
A cool app you built.
A website for your friend’s dog-walking business.
That one time you fixed a bug no one else could.
Make it clean, simple, and professional. Think of it as your coding Tinder profile—you’re here to impress.
Step 8: Nail the Job Hunt
Time to land that dream job. First, fix your resume. Highlight your skills, projects, and any cool certifications you’ve picked up along the way. Then, apply EVERYWHERE—LinkedIn, Indeed, Glassdoor, wherever.
Pro Interview Tip:
Prep for coding interviews. Practice on sites like LeetCode or HackerRank. And when they ask you a brain-teaser question, don’t panic. Just breathe and think it through.
Oh, and practice your “tell me about yourself” answer. Don’t just say, “I’m good with computers.” You’re better than that.
Step 9: Never Stop Learning
Here’s the thing: Tech changes faster than TikTok trends. Once you’re a developer, you’ll need to keep learning. Pick up new languages, learn about AI, or dive into Web3 (the “future” everyone’s talking about). Staying curious is your secret weapon.
FAQs
Q: How long does it take to become a software developer? A: Depends! If you’re super focused, you could be job-ready in 6-12 months. But it’s a marathon, not a sprint.
Q: Can I become a developer without a degree? A: Heck yes! Tons of devs are self-taught. Your skills and portfolio matter way more than a diploma.
Q: What’s the salary like? A: The average software developer salary in the US is around $110K per year. Cha-ching!
Q: What’s the hardest part about learning to code? A: Debugging. Imagine looking for a needle in a haystack, but the needle’s invisible, and the haystack is on fire.
Final Thoughts: You Got This
Becoming a software developer isn’t easy, but it’s 100% doable if you stick with it. Remember, everyone starts as a beginner—even the coding legends who make apps like Instagram. So take it one step at a time, keep learning, and don’t be afraid to fail.
Ready to start your coding journey? Grab your laptop, pick a language, and start building today. And if you're looking for guidance along the way, software developer recruiters are here to help. Don’t forget to share your progress—tag us on social media so we can cheer you on!
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TCW Rewatch: 1.13 “Jedi Crash”
Wait, really, legobiwan? You’re coming back to this after how many months? (Why yes, I am. Somehow having my schedule overfill with real-life commitments has only emboldened my desire to create content. Blame it on the coffee and sleep deprivation.)
So anyway -
Aayla, Anakin, and Ahoksa (Triple A-Team! Obi-wan would have hated that name) are in the Quell System in the Outer Rim facing off against the droids and some plot machinations which really aren’t all that important. Anakin ends up defending the Gang with a maneuver that is...*puts finger to chin*...somehow familiar...
I’m onto you, Filoni.
(It should go on the record that just prior to this, we rhyme in A form (as opposed to the above B form) as Anakin jumps from a ship to hang awkwardly off a droid in another act that is wholly reminiscent of someone we know and love quite well.)
No, he’s not sure. He didn’t even consider the question.
And you have have the absolute gall to complain, Kenobi. Honestly.
Anyway, Anakin’s actions (and Obi-wan’s, by extension, because - let’s be honest, Yularen has already seen the Best Of YouTube channel of Obi-wan’s recklessness and later proclaims him to be more insane than Anakin in the Gambit/Siege series and he knows the space apple doesn’t fall all that far from the space tree). Unsurprisingly, Anakin’s foray into BASE Jumping without a wingsuit prompts Yularen to ask a question he likely knows the answer to already:
To which Aayla responds:
No wonder Yularen defected to the Empire.
So Anakin is more or less taken out Kanan roast-style, but manages to survive the encounter with what I assume is a nasty concussion. Ahsoka and Aayla drag his unconscious form along as the gang lands on some unnamed planet.
And...they have to leave Anakin behind as they go to find help. This sets up the inevitable “I cannot leave my Master alone” conundrum but what I find interesting is that Rex and a few other clones are going to be there to guard and take care of Anakin. Meaning that Ahsoka 1) doesn’t wholly trust the clones yet (ah, how things will change come Season 7) and 2) that Aayla is actually using this as a teaching moment for Ahsoka as there is no real inherent risk. The clones can guard and look after Anakin just fine. But Aayla wants to convey the message that the Jedi can’t save one life over thousands of lives. (A theme that comes up again and again and is not as straightforward as Aayla puts it here, as it is this exact idea that the Jedi struggle with in terms of how far they can interfere on a galactic scale.)
This notion is also intriguing given the conversation that happens between the droids below.
I honestly want to see that battle droid go rogue and on a killing spree of droids and sentient alike because of their experiences in the war. That would be...an intriguing story to write.
I’VE READ THE EU, AAYLA, YOU TWO AREN’T FOOLING ANYONE.
Okay, but Ahsoka gets medical help from the small dude’s son, but not before family leader makes this interesting statement:
“If the protesters didn’t burn shit down/loot/create a disturbance/etc, then I would support them.” It’s not that easy. Nor that straightforward. And what I find interesting is the concept that TCW is overall told from Ahsoka’s point of view, which would explain the more black-and-white morality of the earlier episodes. This being said, it’s something she still struggles with up until the end, not being able to totally understand (or perhaps, more accurately, not willing) the political situation Mace and Obi-wan are in vis-à-vis the invasion of Mandalore and the Council’s actions. And I credit this with her being a student of Anakin, who is the original diametric thinker (you are with me or against me, you love me or you don’t, which makes sense in that as a child, he is either free or not-free - that definition is like being only a “little pregnant.”)
But large philosophical debates aside, can we appreciate the fact the animation team reused the Destroyer Droid rolly thing for our medic friend?
Anakin waking up in a somewhat Lilliputian scenario is hilarious.
And finally, have the random, amusing screengrab for free. Ha!
#hello there#legobiwan rewatches tcw#...aaaaaand we're back#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#aayla secura#sure why not i have no free time and am starting a certificate program next month LET'S DO ALL THE THINGS
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Looking Back
Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)
Book: Open Heart (almost 2 years after Chapter 1 of book 2)
Word Count: ~1900
Rating: PG-13 (light language, innuendo)
Summary: A night of celebration causes Cassie and Bryce to take a look back.
Author’s Note: I’m so sorry it’s been so long since I wrote Bryce fic! The pandemic writer’s block was particularly brutal for this couple, but I am pretty happy to be back with our favorite flirty, confident surgeon! This story is for two of the “Things You Said” prompts - 11. Things you said when you were drunk (as requested by @sunnyxdazed, @choicesarehard, and an anon) and 22. Things you said after it was over (as requested by @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl and @omgjasminesimone). It also works for the Choices May Challenge Day 29 prompt (Memories).
“Nah, I’m good,” Bryce said, shaking his head as Jackie attempted to pass him a shot of tequila.
“Lahela, you can’t pass on drinks tonight! We’re celebrating!” she called out, raising her arm and drawing cheers from several others around them, including Cassie.
“You might be celebrating, but I still have to preround at 6 am tomorrow,” Bryce replied, shaking his head as Cassie grabbed the shot glass Jackie kept trying to hand him, throwing it back in rapid succession with the shot Jackie had already given her. Man, tonight was going to get sloppy.
“That’s on you for choosing a specialty with such a long residency,” said Jackie, quirking an eyebrow before downing her own shot. “It’s not our fault you surgeons are so dumb and cocky that you need those extra years of training just to be competent physicians.”
Bryce grinned at her, grabbing the empty shot glasses Cassie handed to him as she reached for a lime. He would let her have that one tonight. After all, it was her graduation night.
The internal med graduation had been pretty much what Bryce had expected. Decent food, but watered down drinks and boring speeches by the hospital bigwigs, all culminating with the program director going over each resident’s career plans and handing them a certificate. At least Cassie’s table had been a good one with Elijah, Phoebe, and his parents, a med-peds resident named Amber who Bryce didn’t know well but who had been fun to talk to, as was her husband when he wasn’t trying to corral their two year old son, plus Cassie’s parents and Keiki, able to come thanks to Amber only needing two tickets. And thankfully the faculty member assigned to their table was an endocrinologist named Dr. Liz Aubly, not Ethan Ramsey. Bryce had forced more than enough awkward small talk with the man at the monthly diagnostics team dinner he’d gone to with Cassie last week, and he got the feeling Ramsey was not thrilled that he was now officially Cassie’s date for all such events. Over the next two years, with Bryce on his research years while Cassie remained at Edenbrook for her diagnostics fellowship, their paths were going to cross often.
But tonight wasn’t about looking forward, it was about looking back and remembering three years of patients and long hours and crappy coffee and not enough sleep. Now that the formal portion of the graduation was done with, most of the third year IM residents had ditched their families and taken over Donahue’s, celebrating having only two weeks left as residents. It was the only time they all were off at the same time, excluding the annual resident holiday party, since starting residency, and people were letting loose.
“Wait, we didn’t toast to anything with this round,” Elijah noted after he tossed his lime slice onto the growing pile in the middle of the table. After the first couple of rounds, things had turned decidedly sentimental, with the group rotating what event from their three years of residency they were commemorating. So far, they had toasted to adopting their pet turtle Sal Monella, Jackie being named one of next year’s chief residents, Cassie getting reinstated, and swapping out Landry for Aurora as a roommate.
“You’re right!” Cassie cried out, stumbling off Bryce’s lap. “I’ll go get us another round so we can do things properly.”
Bryce grabbed her wrist, stopping her abruptly. “What?” she asked, her eyes blazing as they locked on his, clearly ready to fight him if he dared to question how much everyone was drinking.
“I’m going with you,” he said with a grin, standing up and subtly sliding his hand down her back, hoping she saw it as a loving, flirty gesture and not an attempt to steady her and keep her upright. Cassie was typically a pretty agreeable drunk, if a little handsy, but she got absolutely livid if anyone implied that her coordination and proprioception were at all impaired by her drinking. He had enough sense not to tell her there was a good chance all the drinks would be ending up on the floor if she did this by herself.
Together, they made their way over to the bar, crowded with dozens of other IM third years. Cassie leaned over the bar, trying to find a free bartender, but quickly abandoned her mission when she wasn’t immediately successful.
“You should do the next toast,” she said, spinning to face Bryce, steadying herself just slightly by leaning back against the bar.
Bryce shrugged, “Nah, tonight’s for you guys. I’m still just a lowly resident for the next four years.”
Cassie grinned, sliding a hand forward and grabbing a belt loop on Bryce’s pants, pulling him toward her. “Where’s all this modesty coming from?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I know I’m still the best surgical resident at Edenbrook. In fact, now that you are moving up in the world, I am losing some competition for best resident in all specialties.”
Cassie laughed, dragging her hand across his hip and sliding it into his back pocket, giving his ass a light squeeze, prompting Bryce to waggle his eyebrows at her.
“I see you’ve reached a very boldly flirty stage of drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, but sliding her other hand into his other pocket at the same time, “I just found a comfortable place to rest my hands. Besides, in a couple of weeks, I’ll officially outrank you, so I gotta enjoy this-” she added, giving him another squeeze for good measure, “-while I still can.”
He chuckled at that. She wasn’t going to be supervising him at all, so it didn’t really matter, but Jackie had taken to teasing Cassie that their relationship was going to become suddenly scandalous and forbidden when Cassie became a fellow. “Are you sure you want to move in together, then? It might be hard to keep your hands to yourself around all of this-” Bryce gestured an open hand up and down in front of his body “-when you have 24/7 access.”
Cassie tilted her head to the side, a coy little smirk forming. “Yeah. You know why?”
“Why?” he asked, humoring her as he lifted a hand to tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.
“Because you helped clean up after that first party in our apartment.”
His hand froze next to her cheek. He’d completely forgotten he’d done that. He’d mainly just been looking for something to do while waiting to say goodnight to Cassie, or rather, hoping he wouldn’t have to say goodnight. Pitching in with cleaning up the trash had just seemed like the natural thing to do. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“It’s when I knew you were a good person, not just some overconfident hot guy. It’s when I knew you were boyfriend material, not just a casual fling.”
Bryce didn’t quite know how to respond to that. His feelings for Cassie evolved gradually, slowly, naturally over the past three years, going from seeing her as that cute dark-haired medicine intern to the person he loved and trusted most in the world bit-by-bit, day-by-day. He didn’t have some moment with her that was some great epiphany where he realized he wanted more or saw her differently. He just cherished getting to know her better, seeing different sides of her, and adoring nearly everything that he discovered or she revealed. But Cassie had apparently seen depths in him from the start. He wasn’t sure if it put their early hookups in a different light or not, but all he could really do at this point was appreciate that they had come this far together, no matter how they got there. So he gave her a gentle kiss, pulling back as he saw one of the bartenders coming toward them and flagging him down, ordering another round of tequila shots, plus a glass of water for himself.
Soon, they made their way back to the table, Bryce carrying the shots while Cassie focused on not bumping into people. She waited for him to pass around the drinks and sit back down before she plunked herself back onto his lap, looping one arm behind his neck and grabbing one of the shot glasses with her other.
“What are we toasting to this time?” Jackie asked, raising her glass and looking around the table expectantly.
“I have one,” said Bryce, causing Cassie to twist her head to look at him, her eyebrows raised and her pupils blown wide, “To that first party you guys threw at the apartment. It really was the start of everything.”
Everyone clinked their glasses together over the center of the table, with some “Hear hears” and “To the parties” scattered in the mix, but Cassie didn’t throw back her shot right away. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on Bryce’s, offering him a brilliant smile before wrapping her other arm around his neck in a tender hug... and unfortunately dumping her shot of tequila down his neck and under his shirt in the process.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” she cried out once she realized what she’d done.
“It’s fine,” Bryce said with a little shrug, “but I do think that signals the end of the festivities for me.”
“Party pooper!” Elijah yelled out, but Bryce just shook his head.
“Someone has to actually be functional enough to take care of patients tomorrow, and it’s certainly not going to be anyone else at this table. Cassie, you coming over to my place, or are you going to keep the party going with this crew?”
“Your place,” she said without a moment of hesitation. “I spent the night with you after my first party of residency, so who am I to buck tradition at the last one?” Bryce grinned at that, noticing Elijah just shaking his head out of the corner of his eye before Cassie leaned over and kissed him, sliding her hands along his shoulders before pulling back.
“Get a room,” Jackie said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m trying,” Bryce replied over Cassie’s shoulder. “Come on, babe,” he said, helping Cassie to her feet before standing up and slinging an arm around her waist, waving goodbye to their friends as he navigated her towards the door.
“I can’t believe I’m basically done with residency,” Cassie said as Bryce pulled out his phone to order a Dryve. “It’s been three years already. How has it been three years?”
Bryce just chuckled, guiding her down the large step off onto the sidewalk as they left the bar. “Time flies when you’re working 80 hours a week for minimum wage, huh?”
“Something like that,” she replied, pivoting to face him and tugging him into a loose hug.
“Looking back, anything you’d want to change?”
She seemed to ponder that for a moment before shaking her head, “I mean, I probably could have done without the suspension, but I think it helped me grow. I don’t know. I guess even with all the drama, I’m happy with how things turned out. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, Cassie,” he said, squeezing her tight and running his hand along her spine, “it does.”
Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts
Open Heart: @tallulahshh @rookie-ramsey @omgjasminesimone @ao719
Bryce x MC: @thequeenchoices @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @dreaming-of-movies @choicesarehard @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl @maria-soederberg @mskaneko @sunnyxdazed
Event Tags: @choicesmaychallenge @kinda-iconic
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All Of Our Lifetimes — One: Daymare
Pairing — Taehyung x Reader
Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au
Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)
Word Count — 2.7k
Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories?
Part — 1 / 10
Warnings — swearing
A/N — This is going up a few hours earlier than I said previously, but I don’t care! Tuesday is the worst day of the week so I need to put out something good lol. Enjoy!
Previous — Next
"Find me... Find me... F—"
"—Oh, fuck me!"
Milo's temper tantrum draws you from your intense daydream. Jolting in your seat, breath ragged and heartbeat racing, you see your roommate throw a copy of her resume across the living room in a burst of rage.
"Fuck you," she points sharply at the paper, "fuck this, and fuck me!"
As Milo throws herself onto the couch, draping her forearm dramatically across her eyes, she heaves a heavy sigh and groans loudly.
"How are we supposed to have this much experience for an entry-level job, [Y/n]? We were lied to. I feel wronged. Can I sue?"
You shake your head, trying to push the daymare away from your mind. It's not the first time this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last, but somehow that man's face keeps coming back to you. Day and night, he's all you see when you close your eyes, almost like a memory...
You feign a smile as you reply, "Who are you gonna sue, Mi? You're the one that insisted on doing your resume yourself, after our internships."
Milo gestures extravagantly with her free hand, making shapes in the air with her fingers. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the professor who told us that we'd have enough to get a job overseas by the time we graduated? Maybe the damned school who never mentioned the fact that South Korean's are so damn particular? Maybe my mom who never forced me to continue speaking Korean or writing Hangul when I was a kid so that I had to basically re-learn every-fucking-thing?"
The highs and lows of her complaints cause a laugh to slip out as you turn your attention back to your own resume, a digital copy ready for edits on your laptop. "You're gonna sue your Mrs. Choi? Doesn't sound like a great idea. Besides, I like her too much. Her kimchi is to die for. And if you had already known Korean and Hangul, we may have never met!"
Your best friend nods once, accepting this fact as true. "Probably not. That semester in a foreign language really did solidify our nerdiness about South Korea." She jabs a finger in your direction. "But I have a one-up on you 'cause my grandparents were first-gen immigrants from Seoul. So ha!"
Raising your hands in mock defeat, you retort, "You win that one. I'm just an American."
"So sad." The brunette sits up with an excited expression, eyes wide as she crawls over to you on your side of the sofa. "How about my academic advisor, if you can even call the woman an advisor for rehashing my own questions back at me? She convinced me that I could get a job anywhere, with any degree. So what did I go with? Interior design! I can't find a single freakin' job in Seoul for that! Not that doesn't require, like, three years experience, a particular certification that I conveniently did not get, and a signed contract with the Evil Underlord Satan."
"I really don't think that's gonna work, but hey go ahead and try!"
Milo shoves your shoulder playfully, turning to the television to change it to the New Year's Rockin' Eve show that you'd been waiting to start. "You're the one that took ethics classes! I thought you'd be able to tell me if I had a case."
You scoff, "I took business ethics, not legal ethics! But I can agree with you partly. That woman was of no help. At all. Glad I wasn't stuck with her as an advisor since I was in the communications program."
"Yeah, I like to compare her to our house: a conventional ranch with no personality."
You burst into laughter, and Milo hops up from the sofa, an amused expression on her face. She tosses the remote in your direction. "Get the channel right. I can't find it. I wanna watch the ABC exclusive. Pretty sure we get that through YouTube TV."
You catch the remote with ease and turn to the menu. "You think I know how this thing works? I only use Netflix and Crunchy Roll."
"Just shut up and search, will ya?"
You roll your eyes and do as your roommate asks. "Why ABC? Isn't it easier to just stream it online?"
"Becauuuse BTS! They're gonna be performing in, like, ten minutes!"
"What's that again?" you tease.
"Okay, I am not dealing with you right now. Don't make me come over there and hit you with the champagne bottle."
The last two words catch your attention. You turn around, rest your arms on the back of the sofa, and give your best friend the biggest puppy-dog eyes you can manage. "Pour me a glass, Jagiya?"
Milo smirks at the Korean pet name and grabs the golden bottle from the refrigerator. "Get your ass over here so we can pop it and move on. I ain't waiting for midnight. We got shit to do before then, and I can't work on this job-seeking stuff for another damn second without some alcohol in me."
You squeal a tiny, "Yay!" before leaping over the back of the sofa and joining your roommate in the kitchen.
After the champagne is popped and poured, both of you return to your places on the sofa. You take a sip from your glass as Milo calls your favorite local pizza place to place an order.
"Pickup in fifteen, which is perfect! I don't wanna miss BTS," she giggles, pushing her champagne away. "No drinking and driving. I can wait until I get back."
"You're giving up champagne for this band?" you tut, swirling your glass to show off the drink. "You must really love these boys."
Milo narrows her dark eyes at you and tosses her hair over her shoulder. "You'll see."
Another sip and you turn back to your laptop, the noise of the New Year's Rockin' Eve in the background. "Mhm, sure."
You continue to work in relative quiet for the next five minutes until Milo breaks the peace with an elated screech, a sound that is more similar to that of an animal than a twenty-something woman.
"They're on!" She grabs your arm and shakes it vigorously. "Look at them!"
You stop your edits to your portfolio and turn to the television with a sigh. The crowd has started to go mad over the seven men currently trotting up the stairs and on to the stage. The singing has already begun, and you have to admit that their voices harmonized spectacularly together.
But there's one voice, in particular, that is so familiar to you. Despite being mixed in with the group, the lowest register has your eyes leaving your laptop screen and shifting to the television. You can't put your finger on it, but there's something so soft, so real, so warm about it.
The camera zeroes in on the seven men. All are dressed to the nines and look like they're having a blast while performing. So not only can they sing and dance—and, for some, rap—they're all stupid good looking, each in their own unique way.
As the first song comes to a close, and Milo sings the last verse at the top of her lungs, the camera pans to the man in the center. He delivers some of the last lines in a voice as soft and warm as the one you'd heard amongst the mass. Except, this time, he stands out.
But you recognize more than his voice; his appearance is familiar, too. Despite remaining in the background for most of the first song's performance, there's something about the man with the wavy black hair and similarly colored trench coat that calls to you. On an ordinary day, on any other day, you would wave it off as a simple attraction.
But this—this is different. You can't put your finger on how or why, but you know that you've met this person before.
Lightning strikes. You know where you've seen this face before. He's been in your dreams and nightmares, your daymares and daytime imagination. He's been all over your mind, consuming it for the past few months. You've always had this dream, ever since you were a child, but lately, those nightmares have been getting more frequent. This man might be a slightly younger version than the one that plagues your dreams, but it's the same person. You're sure of it. Every time you close your eyes, his face is the one you see.
Right before you both die.
The next song begins, and the dark-haired stranger is back at the front. For the remainder of their eight-minute time slot, your eyes are glued to the screen, unable to comprehend where this person came from. You have distinct memories of your mother consoling a three-year-old you after having these same night terrors. Surely, you could not have seen this person back then. It's unlikely you saw him at all, and certainly not as he is at the turn of the decade.
"Who's that?"
Milo follows your gesture, seeing the raven-haired man taking center stage once again. "That's Kim Taehyung! Pretty, isn't he?" She chuckles at your expression. "You have a bias already, damn that's impressive. I mean, I'm more of a Hoseok girl myself but..."
Your roommate's chatter fades away as your attention is once again drawn to the screen. The performance ends, and the show shifts to a different artist, all part of the New Year's Rockin' Eve circus.
"Welp, that was worth the wait, but I'm gonna go pick up that pizza," Milo cheers, hopping to her feet. "Don't drink all the champagne before I get back!"
You shake your head and wave to the brunette as she slips out the door. Turning back to your laptop, you open a new search bar and put in two words: Kim Taehyung.
Millions of results pop up, everything from Wikipedia articles to Koreaboo gossip posts and everything in between. The entire time Milo is gone, you spend online researching BTS' V. By the end of the half-hour, you've learned quite a bit about him—taking particular note that his birthday is just a few days after yours—and have stalked his social media.
A little farther down on the results, you see an ad for Big Hit Entertainment. The ad says that the company is looking for bi-lingual speakers, preferably English and Korean, to hire as a production assistant. Out of curiosity, you click on the link and are taken to Big Hit's site.
Milo returns with fanfare, holding the pizza in front of her like Simba the lion. "It's the cirrrcle of life!" she sings. "They were definitely talking about pizza when they wrote that line."
As she plops the box onto the kitchen counter, you make a sound of vague agreement. Milo asks you how many pieces you want, but you hardly hear her, eyes skimming the job posting over and over.
Is this a possibility? Is this something you're actually considering? Besides the fact that you just saw the add a few minutes ago, your reasons for applying are vague at best. Are you weighing the real options, or are you leaning into this particular job because it might lead you to answers? Or maybe give you an opportunity to meet this Kim Taehyung, maybe even ask him questions?
"Hello? Earth to [Y/n]!" Milo reaches over the back of the sofa to wave a hand in front of your face. Snapping you out of your stupor, your best friend laughs. "Damn, what are you reading? You're really out—wait...is that Big Hit? You found a job posting? What!"
Milo grabs your laptop and pulls it from your grasp. "Mi—"
She brings it over the back of the couch, placing it on the counter beside the pizza. Her brown eyes are wide and curious as she scrolls through the information. "Production assistant for Big Hit, in Seoul, for a bi-lingual speaker with no prior experience? Dude. This is the perfect job! Like, seriously, where did you find this?"
"On Google," you sigh, knowing that you're not going to get the laptop back until Milo relinquishes her control. You settle in on the stool beside her. "I was looking...for postings while you were gone. I stumbled across it."
Milo cocks an eyebrow and shows you your search history, terms which mostly consist of "BTS," "BTS V," and "Kim Taehyung."
"Mhm, suuure, we'll go with job postings."
You take the device from her with a playful scowl. "My point remains. This is exactly what I've been looking for. It says here that the job would be a lot of translation work, both in person and on documents. I'd also assist in the studio while recording or producing. And various other tasks, but I think it'd put my communications major to good use. It's a step in the right direction."
"You sure you just don't wanna see Taehyung-ssi?" she giggles.
A rising feeling of defensiveness comes over you as you close your laptop, moving to the sofa to retrieve your glass of champagne. "I just heard BTS for the first time tonight, Milo. I'm not about to pick my first post-college job and move half-way around the world for a boy I don't even know, let alone a K-pop boy."
"A cute K-pop boy, though."
You return to her side, raising both eyebrows in an expression that says, "Really?"
Milo shrugs, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll let it go. Just an odd choice for you."
"Well, it's like we were saying earlier." You grab a piece of pizza from the box and shove the end into your mouth. "What'd we got t'lose?"
Milo makes a "close your mouth" gesture with her hand, grimacing at the sight. "Points were made. Fine, but maybe sleep on it? And this is me telling you to not be impulsive," she laughs towards the end. "But what the hell. If you go for it, I might have to find a job in Seoul sooner than I thought."
"I'm sure there are thousands of applicants," you grimace, the reality of the situation settling in.
Milo grabs a slice for herself and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "And you're worth each and every one of 'em." After pressing a loud kiss to your temple, she slips from the bench and plops back down on the sofa. "C'mon! We got some balls to drop and resumes to edit."
Later that evening, or earlier the next morning, you're left cleaning up as Milo reclines on the sofa in a tipsy slumber. After the New Year rolls in, along with a brand new decade, you're left alone with your thoughts.
Thoughts and several disposable dishes.
As you tidy up, you contemplate the options in front of you. Sure, you'd sent out several resumes to plenty of companies already. Some of which you'd heard absolutely nothing from, while others have let you know they'll get back to you about a possible interview. So far, nothing has been terribly promising.
So what' the harm in applying for the Big Hit job in Seoul?
The other half of your motivation slips into your sleepy mind. The person you've seen since childhood, could he really be Taehyung? Could you finally be so close to the answers? Why only one dream? Why him? Why so much blood and death?
Does he dream of you, too?
The laptop remains on the kitchen counter, and your fingers itch to open it up and send off your completed resume. This could lead to more than just a new job and a fresh start; this could lead to the answers you've been seeking ever since you were three years old.
A tiny voice inside you says, "Do it."
And, against your better judgment, you listen.
#bangtan-madi writes#taehyung#kim taehyung#taehyung x reader#kim taehyung x reader#bts fluff#bts v#bangtan#bts taehyung#taehyung fluff#taehyung angst#bts angst#bts fic#fanfic#taehyung fic#soulmate au#reincarnated au#reincarnation au#bangtan sonyeondan#established relationship#strangers to lovers#boyfriend!taehyung#husband!taehyung#all of our lifetimes#aool
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I expect no one to read this at all. It’s more of a way to get some feelings off of my chest. This is a look into my personal life and what I went through in 2020. I cried quite a bit while writing this, haha.
My farewell letter to 2020:
To you 2020, the year that shook the world. You’re certainly one to go down in the record books. You changed my life as you did to everyone. To you, the month of March. I had hit the lowest part in my life since the shock of my parent's divorce 11 years ago. My beloved cat had died in October of 2019, a few days short of our one year anniversary of fostering him, which soon turned into us adopting him. It was sudden and unexpected. I still can remember clear as day that horrid call I got from my sister from the vet. “Hey, we need you to come up here. It’s kidney failure.” As she spoke through her tears, I instantly began to cry. I had felt sad for months after that.
In December of 2019, the adoptive dad of one of my closest friends committed suicide. She was torn apart, having had three people she knew died earlier that year. I stood by her side and watched her cry. We colored together in the counseling room, making small talk and doing anything I could to comfort her.
From late February into March, another one of my closest friends revealed to me a traumatic experience she went through. She had been raped by a classmate of mine, one who I considered to be good acquaintances. She was a grade younger than me, and was practically completely dependent on me and my friend, as she was too scared to tell her parents. She eventually completely relied on my friend as I became shoved out of the problem. Her story and the amount of support required from her, which she never gave back to me throughout our friendship, made me realize at that moment I had hit rock bottom. I was tired and so sick of it all. This sentence that I'm about to say is one I've never admitted to anyone: I didn't want to be around anymore, or at least alive. I needed somewhere to escape. I didn't want to commit suicide due to expectations I held upon myself. I was also too scared to commit suicide.
I finally admitted I needed help, which was scary for me to do. In March of you, 2020, I was diagnosed with situational depression. I was soon put on an anti-depressant. It felt good to put a name on it, but little did I know I would pay the price for my relief. Preparing to go off to college, I needed to get a First Class Medical Certificate in order to apply to the flight program at the colloege I wanted to go to. I went and got my FAA Medical Certificate done, ticking off the boxes on my journey to fulfill my life long dream of becoming a pilot.
Spring Break came and after watching schools around me close, it was announced that we wouldn't be returning until mid April, and then the end of April, then until May. I quickly realized it wasn't possible to return and that unbeknownst to me I had already spent the last days of my Senior year at school in March. A frantic question was suddenly formed amongst my classmates and soon the world: Will the class of 2020 graduate? I, being burnt out, didn't care what would happen to me or my class. We soon became a laughing stock and a sight to pity around the world. Class of 2020, Corona Class, The Class that would be telling this story to their kids. It didn't matter to me. As I held up the “Class of 2020″ shirt my uncle got me with the zeros as tp rolls, I sighed. I just wanted to graduate without getting laughed at. Spoiler Alert: That didn't happen.
Around this time I ended my friendship with the girl who I cherished but didn't cherish me back. I still to this day can’t exactly understand why I did that. I blocked her and left without saying goodbye. That wasn’t the right thing to do at all. She had been raped and needed support, but here I was leaving her. She always needed and wanted my support but never gave it back. It was always “Aw you have a problem? Here, let’s try this minimal effort plan to help you. That didn’t work? Oh well, let’s get back to me.” This is no excuse at all for my actions of cutting her off. I really still don’t know why I did this. I had hung out with her everyday in the summer of 2019. Here I was, easily letting her go. Jackie, I’m so sorry. I hope you are doing well and get into ISU to follow your dreams of being an engineer.
In May I received news that still hurts and effects me to this day. I had been denied my Medical Certificate. It wasn't due to me being on an antidepressant, is was due to the fact that I was depressed. This was soul crushing news, but there was still a chance I could reapply for the Medical Certificate if I jumped through multiple hoops. May also provided the announcement that my safe haven in Oshkosh, Wisconsin wouldn't be happening this year. It was definitely understandable due to the virus, but still very saddening to me. It’s really the only thing I look forward to each year, but I understood and agreed on why it was canceled for 2020.
In June I got the news that a beloved teacher of my family and I passed away due to a heart attack and complications of Addison’s Disease. She was the best math teacher I had ever had, and the best in my High School. Math is my worst subject, but she never made me feel stupid like the other math teachers. She always made sure I understood what I was doing. Sometimes when she didn’t feel like having class she would have a free day. She would gossip with my classmates and tell us stories of her youth. Sometimes though she would give us free days due to having intense migraines that sometimes hospitalized her due to her disease. It wasn’t fun to see her like that.
In June she was hospitalized where even her husband and two kids weren’t allowed in to see her. The only person allowed into her before she died was her twin brother. The family decided to have a public funeral, with tons of people in the community and school district socially distancing and wearing masks to pay their respect. I began to cry as I listened to her husband tell everyone that he wasn't ready and was so scared to be a single parent. Their children were both under ten, and were now motherless. Mrs. Johnson it was so hard saying goodbye to you. I loved you so much, and I still do. You gave my friend who had lost her dad food and comfort. You did so much not only for my family and I, but for everyone in the community and school district. I miss you so much.
Hot days came with hazy skies. Everyday I checked the wildfire smoke map as I watched the sun turn bright pink as the sun became a blazing red when the sun went down. For weeks our sky looked hazy. Some days looked cloudy, but it was actually smoke. As someone who lives the Midwest, this was quite surprising.
In August I experienced something that will forever be remembered by me and everyone who lives in my state. A Derecho tore through and ravaged my hometown and the state that I dearly love. We watched through the window as trees snapped in half and branches and leaves whirled around everywhere. We watched through the window as water roared down the road, appearing as if a stream had started right next to us. We watched in fear as shingles were torn off and large items were blown through our yard. As the electricity flickered out, we wondered if we would be crushed by either tree that were on two sides of our house. Wet leaves were torn apart and slammed into our window, where they stayed there for a month afterwards. They looked like confetti, torn into thousands of tiny pieces.
To the branches and trees I still see today in the neighboring towns and cities, broken reminders of the damage done. To you, the metal grain bins that still sit out in the flattened cornfields. Our once tall and proud cornfields that are a proud symbol of my state were now flattened to the ground, completely parallel to the rich farming soil that it stood in. Painting the countryside in flat waves of green with splotches of silver from grain bins and white from barns and houses damaged. Our proud stalks became damaged goods that costed us billions. To the buildings that still show their battle scars from months ago, the houses with the tarps on their roofs and the old wooden barns that couldn't handle the 140 mph. To you, Donald J, Trump, the President of the United States who was supposed to tour Cedar Rapids to exam the damage that still lies there today. You stayed in the airport and immediately left after getting your business done. You didn't care about us, you were there to do business and leave to start your campaigning.
My small town was able to clean up within a month or so, but even still TODAY the bigger cities are littered with damage. There are tree trunks and branches scattered along roads. Thousands of houses still have tarps on their houses and siding missing.
In August my grandma was also diagnosed with Dementia. I've watched her deteriorate over the past few months. Every time we call she forgets that I’m not in school. Sometimes she forgets my name. When we tell her we’re on our way to visit outside her window, she forgets within 10 minutes. Grandma, I hope you never forget that I love you.
In September I finally met with a therapist. I am so thankful to be working with her. After months of my family getting angry and upset at me for being scared to go to the store, my therapist diagnosed me with Social Anxiety. I was so relieved to be diagnosed with it and to be working out the issues I have with my therapist. We work together weekly to help me become a better and more comfortable version of myself.
Over the summer months the health of my already diseased cat took a steep decline. She was my cat, and I felt powerless as I slowly watched her die. She could no longer stay inside due to her having constant accidents. As we made our plan to take her to the vet to give her a peaceful death, I received a heartbreaking call from my mother on a cold September night. My little Jill had passed away in her sleep on our porch. I came over to say goodbye to my baby as I pet her cold fur one last time. I love you my little Jilly Bean and I miss you everyday. I miss and love you so so so much.
September also brought the news that a precious B-25 had a crash landing. It always hurts to hear about a Warbird crashing or getting damaged. I was happy to hear though that they were going to fix it back to airworthiness.
In October I had to make a difficult decision with the FAA. Do I try to visit four different doctors for phycological examinations in order to complete my Medical Certificate or do I wait to get off my medicine and start feeling better on my own? I opted for the second part due to the decline of visiting all of those doctors coming up in November. We had been given that option early in the year, but Covid prevented us from traveling out of state to see those doctors. I sent a letter to the FAA to let them know what I was doing. I received a letter about a month ago that stated that I still needed to visit those doctors or something like that. I honestly didn’t look through it that well because it’s just such a pain in the butt.
Another thing about you 2020 is that you provided me with he opportunity to meet amazing people. I began to watch The Umbrella Academy in September, but I decided to make my account on October 1st. I’ve met tons of funny and talented people on here. The show itself had provided me tons of comfort. It has given me the courage to start writing fanfiction for it along with starting back up on drawing fanart
The end of 2020 has slowed down for me. One of my aviation heroes died this year, Mr. Chuck Yeager. It was heartbreaking for me to hear that. One of the worst days for me was ironically on my birthday in December. I felt really bitter and down and just wanted to sit in my room, but I didn’t. I don’t like celebrating my birthday anymore. As I get older it feels less and less special and in turn I feel sad about it. Another reason why is that I don’t like having a fuss made about it. I don’t like the attention from it haha. It’s okay though because even though this year I felt upset I eventually felt a bit happier as it turned to night.
This year I witnessed history being made. Let me be clear that history is made every year, but this year was very eventful. I witnessed innocent black lives being slaughtered by the very people who are sworn to protect everyone. It’s so disappointing and soul crushing to see all of this. I don’t know if I’ve made it clear on here, but I strongly stand with the BLM movement. I may not understand what they haven been going through for decades, but I stand with them to make things right. Black Lives Matter, not All Lives. All Lives only matter when it’s actually true and Black Lives are included. If you saw a house on fire in an entire block of houses, you wouldn’t say “All Houses Matter!” No they don’t, that house on fire matters. Black Lives Fucking Matter, and All Cops Are Bastards.
To you, the Pledge of Allegiance. Everyday in elementary school I proudly held my right hand over my heart as I stared up at Old Glory and recited you. This year helped me realize that “With liberty and justice for all.” is total bullshit. The only thing I truly appreciate about my country now is the scenery and nature it provides.
To you 2020, as I finish writing this letter on December 31st. You’ve made me cry a lot, including right now. You’ve deeply effected my life and brought me lots of sorrow. Despite all of this, I don't feel upset about you. Yes, you gave me some events that will always haunt me but that’s okay. 2020 even though you’ve hurt me, you’ve also shaped me. Yes, you also made my lose faith in my country and humanity, but I can only hope for the best. You’ve pushed me to become a better version of myself.
So to you 2020, you’ve been a hell of a year. I’ve hated and loved you, but mostly hated you. I went through some shit, but others have gone through worse this year. To those of you who have had a very hard time this year, I love you. I sincerely hope things get better for you. Friend or stranger, you can always rely on me as someone to talk to, to rant or vent to, and to cry to. This year was excruciating, but don’t give up. It has ended and a new year has begun. Sure 2021 may also be bad and we’re all exhausted from 2020, but let’s fight till the end.
#sorry if there are any mistakes in here#I was emotional and listening to music#which always messes up my writing#I love you all#and to myself I hope 2021 will be better#2020#new year's eve#fuck 2020#2021 here we come#personal
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SkyFire 1: Chapter 2
The Late Show with David Letterman: August 2013
Word count: 2.1k
SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST
Rori walked onto the set, shaking hands with the crew members before approaching the two seats set up in the middle of the room under the spotlights. David Letterman stepped forward once she reached the seats, offering his hand to her and a warm smile.
“Nervous?” he asked as they both sat down facing each other. Aurora gave a quick nod and a small smile in response, tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t be,” Letterman added, “we’ll only talk about what you’re comfortable with and if you don’t want to answer any of my questions just say so and we’ll skip to the next one. This isn’t live so we can just take our time.”
Aurora took a shaky breath to calm her nerves, smiling more genuinely in response to his assurances. “Thank you,” she replied. “This is all just really strange to me still. Dad’s made a lot of effort to try to keep me out of the spotlight since people found out who I am last summer.”
“And unfortunately, that’s made people even more curious about you,” the older man said sympathetically.
“That’s why I knew I had to do an interview,” she explained. “If I keep hiding, then people will just prod and poke until they find out what they want to know. At least this way I can be in control of how the story gets told.”
“A very cleaver way of looking at it,” Letterman replied. “Thank you for asking me to be the one to help you do that.”
“Of course. Dad’s always said you were his favourite interviewer so when I had to decide, you seemed like the best option.”
“That’s very kind of you, and him. Are you ready to start?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Rori replied. There was a brief pause while the crew finished their final checks on the camera’s and other equipment before signalling for Letterman to begin his introduction.
“Here at the Late Show we are no stranger to billionaire Tony Stark, who has appeared on the show countless times in our 20 years on the air. In recent years we have come to know him as Iron Man and last year, in the wake of the tragic Battle of New York, he shocked fans when the tabloids broke the story that he had a 17 year old daughter. Since then the Stark family have remained tight lipped about the mysterious young woman, but tonight I am joined by Miss Aurora Stark in her first public interview. Aurora thank you for joining me this evening.”
“Thank you for having me, David,” Aurora replied.
“Now Aurora,” David continued, “There’s not much we know about you so why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself? How is that the world was unaware of you for 17 years?”
“I grew up in south London and the reason the world didn’t know about me is because for most of my life I’ve been no one,” Rori began, chuckling nervously before continuing. “I lived with my mum until I was 15 and I didn’t know that Tony Stark was my dad and he didn’t know I existed until I was 16 and I moved to New York.”
“I’m guessing the fame and fortune of being a Stark has taken some adjusting too…?”
“More than you can possibly imagine. I grew up really poor, so this is still very overwhelming. My mum was 19 when she fell pregnant with me and her parents kicked her out of home when she told them. She was living in her car and desperately trying to convince anyone to give her a job and she got really lucky that she met the right people when she needed them most.” She paused in her story, but after a quick nod of assurance from Letterman she continued the tale. “She walked into a bar in Wimbledon called the Golden Stag, explained her situation and asked if they had any waitressing or kitchen jobs going and the owners Helen and Greg pretty much adopted her straight away. Within a couple of days, not only did they give her a job, but they converted the office space above the bar into a tiny little one bedroom apartment and let her live there rent free. I honestly don’t know whether we would have survived without them over the years. They became the only family that we had, and I grew up thinking of them as my grandparents.”
“They sound like wonderful people,” Letterman added.
“They’re the best,” Rori grinned, finally shaking off her nerves as she talked about her family. “They were always spoiling me. When I was 6, they brought me my first art set for Christmas and always proudly hung my paintings and sketches in the bar and then when I was 7, I came home from school raving about how I’d got to play on the piano in music class. My music teacher had been talking about how the school would be running a private lesson program and I begged my mum to let me take lessons. I was pretty obnoxious about it now that I look back on it, but of course my mum said we couldn’t afford it and she apologized to me over and over again, but the next day not only had Helen paid for my lessons but one of the regulars at the bar that had heard my pleading brought in an old second hand piano that he said was taking up space in his house. I was allowed to play for an hour every day after school before the crowds started to roll in for happy hour and I could play for as long as I wanted in the mornings on the weekend before the lunch rush.”
“They were the first to encourage your art?”
“Absolutely. Between them and my mum I was always encouraged to explore art. I became obsessed with the piano. By the time I was 11 I’d gotten good enough that I was allowed to play during happy hour and every Sunday the regular patrons would make their song requests and I would spend all week learning them and then play them on Thursday and Friday evenings. It was around then that I started singing and I guess I never really stopped after that.”
“So, it sounds like you had a quite a happy childhood despite not having much to your name,” Letterman said, steering the conversation slowly around to the topic Rori knew she needed to address.
“I did,” she agreed sadly. “My mum was my best friend and she made sure that I always felt loved and safe. Even though we had very little, she taught me that it was so important to be grateful for what we did have and value the people in our lives more than material possessions.”
“Do you feel comfortable talking about what happened to her?” David asked gently. “How is it that you finally met your father and moved here to New York?”
“It was Christmas Eve 2010,” Aurora explained. “Every year we would go get waffles after her shift. It was one of my favourite things, and we’d walk home, full to bursting, looking at all the Christmas lights and singing carols the whole way back to the pub, but that year when we were almost home…” Her voice faded out, her eyes starting to gloss over with tears as her memories pulled her back to that night. “There was a drunk driver,” she continued, before David could ask if she needed a break. “He drove straight through the red light while we were crossing the street. It happened so fast. One minute we were laughing and then the next thing I knew I was flying up over the hood of the car and there was breaking glass and my mother screamed out my name. By the time I woke up in the hospital the next day she was already gone, and Child Protective Services was there.”
“And you were placed into foster care after you left the hospital?” David asked.
“I was,” Rori answered. “Helen and Greg wanted to take me in, but CPS said they couldn’t because a bar was no place for a teenager. We were all so angry over that. I’d spent my entire life living in that bar and now more than ever I needed to stay with the only people I had left but it wasn’t my decision, so I spent the next few months getting bounced from one foster family to the next. Some were good, some… weren’t so good. They did make sure I stayed in the Wimbledon area, so I got to stay at the same school, which I’m grateful for. I’m not sure I would have made it without my friends. My mum and my best friend Ella’s mum had been good friends, so she stepped in a lot and made sure I was doing ok. Depending on which family I was living with I was sometimes allowed to go to the pub after school to see Helen and Greg and play my piano. I know it could have been so much worse if I didn’t have people looking out for me, but it was still such an awful time of my life. I was grieving my mum and trying to figure out what I was going to do with myself now that I was alone. I turned 16 a little over a week after the accident and within about a month of living in foster care, I filed for emancipation and I had planned on moving back into the apartment above the pub, but the judge denied my application given that my father was listed on my birth certificate but had not officially relinquished his parental rights. So, I decided to find him and make him sign the papers so that I could move back home and get just a little part of my life back.”
“You knew then that Tony Stark was your father?”
“I knew that a man named Anthony Stark was my father,” Aurora corrected, “but I never thought that it was that Anthony Stark. My mother had never liked to talk about him so all I had to go on was that she’d been waitressing at a fancy party in the city and that she’d ended up going back to a hotel with one of the guests. Combining that with the name, I started researching. I eliminated those that would have been too young or too old or couldn’t have been in London in 1994 and then I just started emailing them or calling or visiting them. Eventually I started running out of possible Anthony Starks and I thought I might as well cross the famous one off the list. I emailed his assistant and explained who I was and why I was contacting her. I even attached a copy of the forms for him to relinquish his rights because I didn’t want him to think I was trying to get his money or something. Weeks went by and I never heard anything so I figured I never would and by then it was May and I had exams at school, so I got distracted and I just focused on that. A few weeks into my summer break I got a reply. His assistant, Ms Potts, confirmed that Tony had been in London around that time and had attended multiple parties that could have fit the description and she asked me if I would be willing to take a DNA test to confirm my story.”
“And the test came back confirming you are his daughter,” David concluded after Rori paused in her story.
She nodded in reply, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she remembered. “He was shocked by the news, as I’m sure anyone would be to learn that they had a 16 year old kid. He got straight on a plane and flew to London to meet me. I think my foster dad nearly had a stroke when he answered the door. We had dinner together and he asked me all about my life and I told him about my mum and living at the pub and the accident. It was awkward at first but within a few hours we’d just hit it off and then when I asked him about signing the forms he refused. He invited me to come live with him in New York instead, at least until I was 18 and then if I didn’t want to stay, he said I could move wherever I wanted. I agreed and we flew out a week later after the courts signed off on it.”
“And this was two years ago?” Letterman questioned.
“Yeah,” Rori confirmed, “in the summer before my Junior year of high school.”
NEXT CHAPTER
OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3
#skyfire#skyfire fic#aurora stark#dad!tony#iron dad#step dad steve rogers#stony#stony fic#boyfriend harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#superfamily#harry styles#tony stark
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A Strange New Student
Summary:
Ginn is a new student in a prestigious London private school. It’s pretty obvious she is not the type to be in private school, but is that going to stop her? Honestly, she doesn’t even know the answer to that one.
But she does have a pretty good guess, when she meets Alex, Martin, George, Louise, and Elsie. They are pretty different from her. They seem nice enough, but will her past lessons allow her let them in? Another good question.
Word count: 6542
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The large, stone hallways of Churchill high school were a lot less busy than Ginn’s old public school back in Liverpool. She guessed that was because barely anyone was able to afford the tuition to actually attend this school. How she got in was a complete miracle, sparked by some pretty unfortunate events.
The biggest understatement of her life.
Ginn was not used to anything that she had already faced in this new school at all, and she had only been in the building ten minutes. The students hanging around in the hallway before class were well behaved, milling around and chatting instead of running and fighting. The floors and lockers were clean, free of graffiti and chewing gum. The uniforms were the weirdest part; everyone wore it neat and proper, the boys’ ties being evenly tied, their shirts neatly tucked into their trousers, which were not sagging halfway down their butts, and their blazers free of burn holes and glue stains. The girls’ skirts were closer to the knee than the butt, their blouses also neatly tucked, and their cardigans neatly buttoned. Everyone’s shoes were perfectly shined, not a scuff in sight.
Every student had neatly styled hair, not a strand out of place. They all had perfect posture, shoulders squared and backs straight, the girls tending to keep their feet touching each other. Their faces shone with happy, satisfied smiles. There was no anger, hunger, or sadness in these people’s lives. Very different to what Ginn saw back in Liverpool. It was obvious these teenagers knew their place in the world. So did Ginn, and it was not surrounded by these people. They made that clear with their odd looks.
She stood out for many reasons around these people. For one, she was the only girl wearing trousers and a tie. Ginn flat out refused to wear a skirt, and the rules said trousers could not be worn without a tie, so she was stuck in the unflattering, unfitted, too big boy’s uniform. Her tie was relatively neat, but she had not buttoned the top of her shirt, and pulled the tie down slightly to accommodate the room the lack of a top button provided. her blazer sleeves had been rolled up slightly to accommodate her shorter arms. Her shirt was tucked in, but it was not neat. the sides of the shirt were bunched up, as she had tried to angle it in a way it was more fitted to her feminine frame. It was not working, but she felt comfortable. When Ginn stood, she leant on one leg, arms crossed, and her feet obviously not touching. Her shoulders slumped, and her hands folded into fists, no matter whether she was walking or standing. When she walked, her back curved forwards slightly, and her eyes shifted between everything that moved, glaring into every pair of eyes she met. Ginn had to be aware of everything that was happening around her. Just a little compulsion of hers. Her hair was cut short, mostly jar length, with layers getting shorter as they went up, and a fringe cut in line with her eyes, parted favouring the left side, and whilst that was not abnormal for girl, it was expected that she would make an attempt to calm and style her messy mop of ginger hair. But she didn’t. She liked it messy. It gave her an excuse to have her fringe covering her left eye. You see, Ginn had heterochromia. Her right eye was a bright, electric blue, whilst her left eye was a shining light brown, almost orange when the light hit it just right. Ginn preferred to cover her left eye with her hair, as it blended in with the orange strands better than the blue did. That, and the brown colour was not the genetic colour. Her mother had blue eyes, and her father had green eyes, so brown was definitely not a family eye colour.
Ginn could tell people were looking at her as she wondered the fancy hallways towards the administration office, though she couldn’t tell if this was because of her rough, stand-offish appearance, or the fact that it was early November, and she was a new student entering year 10. Honestly, Ginn didn’t care which one it was. She didn’t expect to form relationships with these people.
She managed to reach the administration office, where she was expected to pick up her time table and ID card, after a few minutes of cluelessly wondering around, following strange signs written in the worst font for someone like her; cursive. How is that acceptable, you may ask? It honestly isn’t, but this school had an aesthetic to stick to. Ginn was dyslexic, so anything that wasn’t block letters or her own handwriting was torture to read. As she reached the old looking, oak wood door, she straightened her back and readjusted her backpack, forcing her face to change from confrontational to neutral. This was the face she preferred to show in front of adults, as they could never figure out what emotion she was feeling so they struggled to ask her questions. She opened the door and walked up to the desk, waiting for the old woman sitting, typing on her computer, to look up at her. She did quickly, luckily.
“Hello there! What can I do for you today?” Her voice was far too perky and high pitched. It irritated Ginn’s ears. Ginn forced her face to remain neutral, pushing down her natural, uncomfortable reaction, so she could respond as quick as possible.
“I’m the new student. I was told to pick up my stuff here.”
“Ahh, yes! Ginn Ranger, am I correct?” The woman squeaked, smile never faltering.
“Yeah, that’s me.” Ginn avoided eye contact, uncomfortable with her full name being announced.
The woman rooted around the organised mess that sat on her desk, until she found the right envelope that held Ginn’s ID card and timetable. She handed it to Ginn and asked her to sit down for a moment, as the headmaster wished to speak to her before classes started. Ginn forced herself to swallow a groan as she nodded and took a seat next to the desk, facing the door to the headmaster’s office. Her leg bounced quickly as she stared into space, trying to concentrate on her thoughts rather than the loud world she lived in. She slouched in her seat after finding a comfortable place in her imagination to rest. Sadly, it only took two minutes for her to be called into Headmaster Windsor’s office.
“Hello, Miss Ranger.” Mr Windsor was far more serious. much more pleasant to Ginn’s ears. “It is a pleasure to finally have you here.”
Ginn only forced a smile as she sat awkwardly in the chair. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, taking in every detail she could. the shelves behind Mr Windsor mostly held the textbooks this school studied. Two of the four shelves held the textbooks. one held a collection of frames, some holding pictures of what Ginn assumed to be Windsor’s family, other holding certificates. One was a certification of first aid, one an inclusivity certificate, another being Windsor’s degree in teaching. The inclusivity certificate intrigued Ginn, as she knew for a fact that this school was pretty exclusive.
‘Guess it’s for everything except class.’ She thought to herself.
The final shelf held folders, ordered by category. The first was labelled ‘Enrolment’. The second was labelled ‘Disciplinary Reports’. The third was ‘Human Resources’. The fourth one was what Mr Windsor pulled off the shelf and flicked through. It was labelled ‘Inclusive Support’. Yay.
“So, Miss Ranger-” Ginn interrupted Windsor.
“Call me Ginn.” She said quickly and sheepishly, shoving her hands under her legs to avoid her usually gesturing that annoyed so many adults. “I prefer just Ginn.”
“Ok then.” Mr Windsor peered over the top on his reading glasses, unhappy with the interruption. “Ginn. Your old school transferred us your files and records last week, and I feel we must discuss some things before you head to classes.”
Ginn bit her lip and nodded. She had always gotten pretty good scores in lessons, but she was by far the favourite student to any teacher she ever had. She had a tendency to speak her mind, even when out of terms. Especially then, actually. She also did not have the best track record when it came to peer relations. Most of her past incidents were not her fault, but she had to claim some as her own doing. What could she say? She knows how to stick up for herself.
“These records say you are a very smart young girl, you could thrive in an academic environment, if provided with the right resources. This is why our scholarship program chose you to be our first representative of the… less fortunate.” Windsor hesitated with that last part. He really needed to brush up on his appropriate language book.
‘Just say I’m poor and move on.’ Ginn thought to herself.
“However,” the dreaded sentence conjunctive. “You do have a worrying amount of negative peer relations reports. I must tell you, Ginn. Fighting is strictly prohibited on the campus of this school.”
Ginn let her voice take the lead. “What’s your stance on fighting in self-defence? Mine is that is fine to fight, as long as you don’t start it. Pretty sure those records say that’s what I did.”
Oh dear. She really should have thought before speaking.
Windsor looked exasperated. Ginn was clearly not the first wise crack he had dealt with. “I believe anything can be sorted with the right words. As long as it is reported, it will be dealt with.”
“What about the times it can’t be reported?” Ginn’s voice deepened as she became serious. “That’s what happened in my experience. I couldn’t report it, and if I could, nothing happened, so I sorted it myself. Sure you wont have to worry though. This doesn’t exactly seem like the place where fights happen.”
Windsor chuckled and nodded. “You are an interesting young lady, miss- Ginn. I’m sure you will fit in with the class I have placed you in. All of your teachers have been informed of your mental heath and learning difficulties, as per your request.”
Ginn hated how that was phrased, but she thanked him anyway. ‘Gotta try and be polite’, after all.
“I have assigned a young man to help guide you around school as you settle in.” Oh no. forced interaction. “He should be outside now.”
as Windsor finished his sentence, the phone device on his desk beeped, and the voice of the receptionist through the door sounded out, saying ‘a Mr Peterson was here to see Headmaster Windsor.’ Windsor told the receptionist to send him in, and the device buzzed, causing Ginn to cringe. That sound was horrible!
Before she could fully recover, the door opened behind her and a boy around her age walked in. He had pale white skin, with bright blond hair, shaved at the sides and combed over, the parting favouring the right side of his head. His eyes were cornflower blue, shining and bright. He had a small, wonky smile on his face as he greeted the headmaster and took a seat on Ginn’s right side.
“This is Alex Peterson. He will be, what we call, your class escort.” Windsor introduced the boy to Ginn, and the boy turned to Ginn and smiled, offering his hand to shake, which she just looked at nodded to him. Windsor broke the awkward tension between the two and continued. “He will show you around until you are comfortable with your surroundings.”
Ginn hated this idea. She could see why they implemented it, many people would want it, but she was not one of those people. She would much rather just figure it out on her own, even if it meant being late to all her classes.
“The bell is about to ring. You two should head off now.” Windsor gestured to the door, and the two teens picked up their bags and walked out.
“So…” The boy, Alex, said, drawing out the ‘O’ sound. “Can I see your schedule? Just so I know for sure where you are?”
Ginn wordlessly shoved the piece of paper into Alex’s hand, still avoiding eye contact with him. Alex shot her a strange look, realising this was going to be so much harder than he originally thought. He did think she would be quiet, being new and all, but dang.
“Cool, you’re in mine and my friend’s form.” he handed back the paper to the new girl and started walking, being closely followed by her. “You’ll like Mr Caxton, he’s fun.”
Ginn hummed in response. God, she was not making it easy for Alex.
The bell rang and Ginn tensed, her shoulders squaring, and her fists clenching. Another loud, irritating noise. This school was just made to make her uncomfortable.
Unfortunately, Alex had noticed her reaction to the sound. “You ok? It’s just the bell, no need to worry.” he chuckled.
“Fine.” Ginn grumbled through gritted teeth. She started storming off down the corridor without a plan, and luckily Alex jogged to catch up to her before she reached the turning point.
Alex desperately wanted to break the awkward air between them, but did not know how. This girl seemed tense, understandably, as she seemed quite strange to the standards of this school, so he did not know how to approach anything with her.
“So… where you from?” Alex asked, trying to study her body language. She walked like she was trying to look tough, as well as be silent in her steps. She succeeded on both aspects as she definitely looked intimidating, and her steps barely echoed around the halls.
Ginn subtly looked Alex up and down, figuring out his motive, in both the question and with helping her. He stood straight and proud, taller than her by a good few inches. Although, that wasn’t hard, as Ginn was only 5”3’. She estimated him to be about 5”9’, and she guessed he still had room to grow. He was looking at her expectantly with a small smile, his blue eyes shining in curiosity. She could see no malice in his wonderment, so she answered.
“Liverpool.” She said, bluntly. To be exact, she lived in a small terrace house, in Roscoe Street, very close to her primary school, Pleasant Street Primary. Ginn had hopped around several high schools in the past four years, so she couldn’t say how far she lived from them. She did not live in a great area, but it was close to the city centre, and she always felt safe there with her parents. She missed Liverpool.
Alex nodded, biting the inside of his mouth in mild frustration at Ginn’s refusal so converse. “Cool. Good city. What brought you to London then?”
“Family stuff.”
The two sighed, knowing that conversation was not going to happen right now.
The two arrived at the classroom after everyone else had arrived and sat down. Alex greeted the teacher with a cheerful ‘good morning’ and he sat down on a table for four, with two other boys, whom he greeted and immediately started chatting and laughing with. The boy sitting next to him had slightly more tanned skin than Alex, but he was still quite pale. He had neat, honey brown hair, with a full fringe that was cut just under his eyebrows, the top of head was thick with hair facing forwards, and what Ginn estimated as one inch clipped shaving around the rest of his head. His eyes were forest green, thoughtfully staring at Alex as he spoke, but also at someone on the other side of the room Ginn couldn’t locate. The other boy had his back to Ginn, but from what she could see, he had dark, sun kissed skin, and the only messy head of mahogany brown hair she had seen in this school. Well, there was an order to this mess, unlike the mess that sat on her own head. His hair was methodically spiked up, then brushed forward. He appeared to have every portion of his hair cut to a similar length, apart from the front.
Ginn heard her name and she turned, seeing the teacher beckoning her towards his desk. she walked over, head down.
“You must be Miss Ranger!” Oh god, he was perky. “Now, I like to ask before I start teaching new students, if you don’t mind, what would you like me to call you, and what pronouns shall I use for you? And are they the same in class, privately, and in front of other adults?”
Ginn blinked at the sudden questions as she let her mind catch up with her ears. “Just Ginn, thanks. Female pronouns, all the time.” She said quietly.
“Perfect.” Mr Caxton smiled softly at Ginn, then continued. “I have been told of the support you require, so don’t be afraid to approach me any time!”
Ginn felt extremely awkward, biting her lower lip, and nodding, avoiding eye contact. She always hated it when her personal stuff was brought up by other people. She knew they were only trying to help, but it never helped Ginn. all she did was nod.
“Ok, so everyone in this class has their seat. I had everyone choose to sit somewhere at the beginning of the year and that is where they sit for the rest of the year. The only available seat is across from your guide, Alex. Go sit down, and we’ll start up, ok?”
Ginn glanced over at the table of three boys. She would be sitting next to the dark-skinned boy. He looked like the more energetic person in the trio. Freaking fabulous. At least the seat was on the left side, so she wouldn’t be bumping elbows with the seemingly right-handed boy.
Ginn had nothing against boys. Truly, she didn’t. She was just very insular, and teenage boys tended to be pretty rambunctious. She also didn’t exactly have a perfect track record with relations. Not just with boys, girls too. But, well, Ginn’s short, slim stature was not a good match up when she fought with boys. Luckily, she is quick, so at least she has that going for her.
She sighed and walked over to the table, unslinging her bag off her shoulder and sat down, immediately leaning on her hand and staring at the floor. She dazed, and started thinking about what she could draw. She thought of characters from tales she enjoyed, and she started moving her finger on one spot of the table, mimicking drawing. This was something she did when uncomfortable. Actually drawing is much better, but she hated showing others her stuff, so rarely drew when sitting at a table with strangers. Or classmates, as she should call them.
the three boys had noticed Ginn sitting down, and turned to her to smile and greet her, but she was avoiding all eye contact. Alex shrugged, realising this was going to be his week. Boy to Ginn’s right decided to break the awkward silence by introducing himself.
He went to speak, nudging her first to get he attention, but before he could speak, she jumped at the sudden touch, tensing her shoulders and clenched her fists, straightening her back and gasping lightly. Her duel coloured eyes stayed locked staring forwards, and she took a few breaths before she snapped her head to look at the boy and growl, “What?”
Now she could see his face, she took in his features. He looked nervous, likely due to Ginn’s aggressive nature. He had warm, russet brown eyes that where currently wide in shock. He was handsome, with a square jaw, and strong cheekbones. His mouth was tight in shock at her reaction. Luckily for him, he recovered quickly. His eyes softened into a more relaxed form, and his tight mouth morphed into a cool side smile.
“Hey,” his voice was smooth and joyous. Enjoyable to Ginn’s ears. Wait what? “I’m Martin Williams. This is George Groden, and you’ve met Alex. It seems like we’re desk mates!”
Ginn struggled to relax her muscles from the sudden touch. She swallowed and forced her hands to open as she shoved them under her thighs. Her voice was failing her, so she just looked back at the table and nodded, humming ‘mm hmm’.
The boy, Martin, made eye contact with the other two, concerned by the reaction. He decided to pry a little, tying to get Ginn out of her shell. “Ginn, right? Interesting name, never heard it before. Where’s it come from?”
Ginn was shocked by the question. Usually when people found out about her name, they made a joke about alcoholic parents, or threw out guesses as to what it was short for. Her name was Ginn. Not Ginera, or Ginevra, or even Geneva, shockingly. This question made Ginn happy, and her vocal cords decided to work.
“It’s a combination of Gill and Finn.” Ginn kept her head down but was smiling lightly for the first time in a while. “Gill was my mum’s mum, and Finn was dad’s dad. They wanted to honour both of them, so it was either Ginn or Fill, and Ginn was pretty gender neutral.”
She huffed in amusement at that last bit. the story of her naming was always interesting to her, especially when you think of the whole story of a young pregnant woman and her husband staring at each other, trying to make the other back down, until they came to the compromise of combining the names.
“That’s cool!” Martin said, enthusiastically. “You have such an interesting story! I’m just names after my grandad!”
Ginn smiled, amused by the boy’s excitement.
Before they could continue, the teacher cleared his throat and started the lesson. It was English. This was not the best subject for Ginn due to her dyslexia, but she had a creative mind, and enjoyed story telling, so it wasn’t so bad. Well, unless they were reading old stuff, like Shakespeare or Jane Austen, they were utter torture for Ginn’s brain. Sadly, that is exactly what they were doing. Romeo and Juliet, to be exact. They started the lesson reading the play, the characters being assigned to a random assortment of students. Ginn struggled to follow along as they worked, not understanding anything they were saying. The words were floating around the page, lines and letters flipping and swapping place, it was giving her a headache. It didn’t help that the most dramatic character in the play, Mercutio, was being voiced by Martin, who was slowly becoming more and more dramatic in his reading, his movements rocking the table, making reading even harder for her.
After they had finished the first four scenes, Mr Caxton instructed the class to discuss them as a table. Ginn was thankful for this as she could finally rest her eyes for a minute. She rubbed her eyes and led her hands up to brush her hair up out of her face, letting it fall how it wanted, which was apparently not in front of her eyes. She looked at the trio of boys expectantly, waiting for a conversation to start, when she noticed they were all staring at her. Alex looked shocked, staring curiously, eyes switching between each of her eyes. George seemed curious, one eyebrow raised, and a small smile spread on his lips. Martin was far too excited for Ginn’s taste.
“Woah!! You have heterochromia?!” He said far too loud. “That’s so cool!”
Ginn quickly dipped her head and brushed her fringe over her brown eye, feeling her face flush red.
“If you say so...” She muttered under her breath.
This conversation was clearly going nowhere, much to the dismay of the three boys. Ginn was obviously not a conversation person, and the boys were not interested in discussing Shakespeare, so decided to further press.
“You don’t think so?” George questioned.
“Let’s just say it’s not my favourite thing about myself.” Ginn grumbled, shooting them a sarcastic and awkward smile. The boys shared a look, all expressing different thoughts and emotions. Martin locked eyes with his friends, then looked at Ginn quickly, and back at them, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking. The boys shot him warning looks, but he ignored it, turning around to look at Ginn, leaning his elbow on the table and putting his head on his hand, wearing his flirtatious, lopsided smirk.
“Well,” He said, making Ginn look us at him. Once she saw his face, she huffed, rolling her eyes, and looked back down at her work. “I think they are beautiful, completing the gorgeous image you hold all over.”
Ginn felt panic rise in her chest. She had never been complimented like that before from the mouth of someone who... had little to no obvious ill intentions. This boy did not seem to be particularly threatening, but still, Ginn could not be help but be wary. She clenched her fist around her pen in panic, as her defence mechanisms snapped into position.
“Say anything like that again,” She turned and glared at Martin through her hair. “And I break your hand.”
Martin tensed up, squeaking in fear as his arm slipped off the table in surprise. Ginn did not break eye contact, however, needing to maintain her tough exterior.
“Well ok then.” He squeaked. Pleased with herself, Ginn looked back down at her work, deciding to do the work herself. The boys fell silent and just did the work, quietly discussing Shakespeare out of fear for their hands.
At the end of the class, after a long lesson of awkward silence between the four tablemates, the boys packed up and met with Elsie and Louise. Ginn had rushed out of the classroom a lot quicker that the others, so Alex had already failed at his job of making sure she was ok. This was going to be a rough day.
The final class of the day was P.E. Luckily for Ginn, sport was something she excelled in. Unluckily for Ginn, she had to get changed in front of other people, which was less than ideal.
Alex instructed her to follow Louise and Elsie to the girls’ changing rooms. Ginn kept her head down and shuffled along with the other girls as they chatted, complaining about the lesson they were going into.
“P.E. sucks, I hate it so much!” Louise groaned, dramatically. “I mean, I like exercise, but the structure of P.E. is so messy, and its so boring!”
“I know!” Agreed Elsie. “It’s even worse right now, doing those weird drill things.”
Ginn perked up at that comment. If they were anything like the ones she used to do in Cadets, she was golden! She didn’t look at the other girls, but she did smile and huff in satisfaction.
“You like P.E., Ginn?” Said Louise, sounding surprised. The girl looked Ginn up and down quizzically. She did not exactly fit the typical description of a fit girl. She looked very skinny, but Louise guessed that was mainly due to her oversized uniform.
Ginn hesitated with her answer, wondering how to answer without sounding weird. “Yeah, kind of. I like exercise, and I’m used to pretty strict sessions, so nothing really bothers me much anymore.”
The other girls seemed satisfied with her answer luckily.
After only moments, the three girls had reached the girls’ changing room. As the tried to find a free section of bench to place their bags and clothes, Ginn was silently praying that no one would pay attention to her so she could change and slip out unnoticed. She utterly hated changing in public. Sadly, her prayers were not answered, as the only available space was on a bench in the middle of the room, with a group of chatty girls surrounding it. Perfect. The three set down their bags and started undressing, quickly swapping from blouse to P.E. polo shirt. Ginn was particularly mad about their easy method of swapping from skirt to shorts without presenting their underwear; slipping the shorts on under their skirts, then taking off the skirt from above. Ginn, wearing trousers, had no such luxury, so had to take advantage of her too big shirt and take off her trousers, hoping they would cover her behind as she slipped the shorts on. Now for the bit she dreaded: changing from shirt to polo. She wanted to do this as quickly as possible, but struggled due to her ever growing anxiety. She slipped off her tie and unbuttoned her shirt, then readied her polo shirt to be the correct way to slip on as soon as she rid her back of it’s professional cotton attire. Quickly, she took off the shirt, and immediately heard what she feared.
Louise and Elsie had gasped, quietly. They had finished changing and lacing up their trainers, and were waiting for Ginn to finish changing so they could walk out together, and happened to glance up when they saw her take off her shirt. The two girls were sitting on Ginn’s right, so they could see what Ginn was worried about clear as day. Right across her back, from the bottom of her shoulder blade, creeping up to the top curve of her right shoulder, were two long, pale, jagged, and bumpy scars. They looked awful, and the two girls were certain that they were from a horrible incident from a long time ago. This scared them, as they worried about Ginn’s safety and current situation.
Before they could say anything, Ginn tugged her polo shirt over her head, hiding the scars before anyone could ask questions, or, god forbid, anyone else saw them. Louise opened her mouth to speak. She was not sure what she would say, but it was instinct. Before she could make a sound, however, Ginn shot her a warning glare, her blue eye shining like a lightning storm, her amber eye shimmering like a raging fire. Her lips were tight and eyebrows knitted in a tight V-shape. Her ginger hair had fallen before her face, blocking the light from reaching her face, only making the looming pit of aggression in Ginn’s aura stronger. Her fists were tight. Louise only just realised the new girl’s flat and scarred knuckles. Louise immediately shut her mouth. She offered an awkward, slightly scared smile, but Ginn just straightened her back, slipped on her battered old trainers, and started towards the door. Louise and Elsie shared a concerned look, then darted up and dashed to keep up with Ginn, who had suddenly developed a quick, strong stride.
Once all of the students had gathered in the sports hall, the P.E. teacher, Mr Dullan, called registration and introduced the aim of today’s class. The class knew they would not like this lesson. Mr Dullen was clearly in a bad mood, he was completely stiff and glaring at everyone who made eye contact with him. Ginn was not happy when he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to face him when she marched into the hall, so he could interrogate her about who she was. He seemed satisfied after a full 30 seconds of comparing her to the ID picture that was on his register. But, this was a respectable school that definitely would not accept her doing what she wanted to do at that moment, and tuition was far too expensive for her to be kicked out on her first day, so she let it go.
“Ok, everyone!” Mr Dullen shouted, making a huge, distracting echo ring around the room. Ginn knew she would barely be able to understand him immediately. “I don’t want to deal with teaching you all today, so you’re just going to do run laps around the school grounds all lesson.”
The entire class groaned and started quietly complaining to themselves and their friends. Well, all except Ginn, who enjoyed running. Also, the echo in this room was getting to her, and she was finding it hard to concentrate. She silently thanked every deity she knew of that the run was outside.
“Alright, alright, quit the complaining!” Mr Dullen yelled, making Ginn bunch up the hem of her polo shirt in her hand to squeeze. She found early on that this was a better coping mechanism than her automatic reaction, which was covering her ears and gripping locks of hair and pulling. Distractions from bad noises are always oh so fun. Mr Dullen carried on, interrupting Ginn’s thoughts, “Everyone get your butts outside!”
The crowd of grumbling students headed towards the doors leading to the yard so they could start the run. Before Ginn could disappear into the crowd and go off to enjoy her run, Louise had grabbed her wrist and started to speak.
“Hey, are you ok? We should talk abo—”
“Do not touch me!” Ginn growled, ripping her hand away from Louise, immediately marching off in a strong, quick pace.
As soon as she set foot on the outside area of the school grounds and witnessed part of the crowd all heading in the same direction, she started her rounds of the school with a light jog, preparing her body and lungs for a long, pleasant run. She really needed to calm her mind, after everything that had happened today, especially in the last few minutes.
Louise was incredibly confused by that reaction. She had noticed Ginn tense up and ball her shirt in her fist, and she knew Ginn had not calmed down from whatever emotion she was feeling after presenting those scars in the changing rooms.
“What was that about?” George said, the four friends walking up to Louise so they could walk the laps of the grounds together.
“She’s seemed pretty tense all day.” Alex offered. “Maybe you just scared her and she reacted.”
She definitely has something she’s hiding.” Elsie said, as the group wondered outside and started walking. “She had two huge scars on her back. She got real tense, more than usual, when we saw them.”
“Let’s go find out what’s up with her.” Louise said, determination in her voice. Then, she sounded unsure. “If we can catch up to her...”
Ginn was no where to be seen as they walked their round. They knew this because Ginn was extremely noticeable in the crowd of students, being one of the only people in the school with ginger hair. She was even more noticeable because her hair was messy and choppily cut short, and her P.E. kit, like her uniform, was too big and looked it. They walked quickly around the grounds, talking and looking around. Ginn was nowhere to be seen.
“She must actually be running.” Martin shrugged. “That girl is an enigma.”
“An enigma you’re crushing on!” Alex said teasingly, elbowing his friend in the side and laughing.
“Shut up!” Martin pushed Alex to the side, a crimson blush rising in his cheeks. “I am not!”
“Then what was that comment in the changing room about?” George smirked and raised and eyebrow.
“Ok!” Martin’s dramatic flare revealed itself as dramatically waved his hand in the air and pointing at nothing in particular. “You have to admit, she is quite pretty!”
Martin stared a the group, waiting expectantly for their response, to which he got a couple nods, but mostly just looks of ‘my dear boy, calm yourself’.
The group continued to walk around the school grounds, giving up on searching for the strange new girl, she was far gone and they could not see her at all. The lesson went by relatively quickly, the group only lapping the school once and only going another 20 yards before Mr Dullen blew his whistle and called everyone into the changing rooms five minutes before the final bell rang. The five friends wondered back into the school, avoiding the stares of disapproval from Mr Dullen.
Louise and Elsie were slowly changing out of their kits when Ginn finally appeared by their side. She was sweating slightly, despite the November chill outside, and her breaths were long, quick, and laboured. As expected, she did not greet the girls, she just started changing, first preparing her shirt to be quickly thrown on after she removed her polo. Louise and Elsie tried not to look at her, feeling her haste and discomfort with being around people after what happened earlier. However, Louise is a pretty stubborn girl, so waited for Ginn to finish changing before she confronted her.
“Hey, where were you all class?” Louise tried to keep her voice perky and welcoming, rather than the interrogating tone she almost used. “we were looking for you when you ran off.”
Ginn let out a small growl of annoyance. “Ahead of everyone. Just needed to run.”
She removed her shorts, her shirt covering her underwear, and slipped on her trousers, then sat down to put on her school shoes. She never looked at Louise. Not that that was expected. This girl is so strange.
“You must be quick then!” Louise laughed lightly. Ginn just hummed. “It’s pretty impressive, running is pretty hard.”
This made Ginn’s head snap up, shooting Louise a confused look. “How is it hard?”
Louise and Elsie shared an amused look. Elsie laughed lightly and said, “You know, keeping pace without losing your breath, stuff like that.”
Ginn hummed thoughtfully whilst finishing up lacing her shoes. Once she was done, she stood and picked up her bag, just in time for the final bell to ring. Ginn attempted to supress her cringe at the sound, but her efforts were in vane, as the other two girls noticed. Luckily for Ginn, all they did was share a look and stand with their bags.
“Not sure I follow, but ok.” Ginn broke the silence, starting to walk out alone. However, Louise and Elise had other plans, both speeding to catch up to her and standing on either side.
“You’re a real enigma, you know?” Louise chuckled. That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Ginn glared at her, a quiet and low growl echoing from the bottom of her throat. Her eyes raged, like a fearsome lightning storm and a blazing fire. Even though she is a very small person, Ginn knew how to make herself look large and terrifying.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Erm... well, I... I just meant that you, well,” Louise stuttered and squeaked, as if she were learning how to speak again. “I just mean that you’re, you know, pretty mysterious...”
Ginn grunted and said something like ‘that’s the point’ as she stormed off, out of the building and around the corner towards the front gates, not to be seen again that day.
“Well, you kinda fucked that one up, huh?” Elsie chortled anxiously.
“Thanks for helping there Els. Come on, let’s just go find the boys.”
Alex, George, and Martin exited the boys changing room a few minutes later. The girls explained what happened as they walked out of the school and back home. The only thing they could all agree on when it came to Ginn: She would be very difficult to befriend.
#no war au#rangers alive au#ginn ranger#Alex Peterson#george groden#martin williams#louise mitchel#elsie brown
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Hi there. I've been scrolling through your "school stuff" tag but thought I'd ask directly - how did you find the transition to actually moving outside of the U.S. for your PhD? I'm looking at something similar and I'm wondering about your experience with the logistics (finding somewhere to live, visa, etc!). Thanks in advance, and congrats on being a doctor!
Oh lord. Why would you do that to yourself? I feel like that tag is mostly just intense kvetching, bogglingly obscure nitpicking complaints, and existential despair, and/or yelling at various institutions and/or people who could not do their god damn jobs. If you have read that and still actually want my advice, I salute you. I’m presuming you’re asking in regard to the UK, since it’s the only experience I can speak on, so hopefully that’s applicable?
In my case, I studied in the UK for a year as an undergraduate, at Oxford, so I was already familiar with the process (at least somewhat) when it came time to do it again for the PhD. Upfront, we must acknowledge the ugly deformed rabid elephant in the room that is Brexit, and the idiotic reform of UK immigration policy currently ongoing. Long story short, they seem to think they can function without low-skilled migration, that the domestic UK workforce will just happily lark off to do the jobs that working-class EU migrants have been doing, that this won’t totally bomb-crater the NHS, that they can run a country by basically only allowing in PhDs in STEM making over £30,000 a year, etc… so yes, this is a complete joke of an immigration policy and it’s what happens when you elect floppy haired xenophobic douchewads and their nightmare party as prime minister! ANYWAY, they’re introducing a points-based system from 2021, which may not affect you for an application under Tier 4, but UK immigration policy is going to have a lot of very stupid reforms and you’ll want to keep on top of those. If you have an offer in hand from a UK university, it is made somewhat easier, but you’ll still need to budget for processing costs, an NHS subsidy paid in for every year you will be there (something like $300/year), and a trip to a UK visa office to have your fingerprints and biometric information taken. If you don’t live near one, that will be travel expenses and so forth. You then have a temporary visa issued for first entry into the country, and a Biometric Residence Permit which you pick up at your university.
That, at least, was the process the last time I applied for a student visa, and it may all have changed by the time you do it. As noted, there are a lot of upfront visa costs, so you’ll want to be aware of those. You need a number of supporting documents, including offer of study, proof of income or ability to financially support yourself (since most Tier 4 visas either don’t let you work or only work a limited number of hours), proof of English proficiency (as a native English speaker/person from an English-speaking country, you won’t need this), and so on. You can’t start the process before you have the offer, but you’ll want to start it as soon as possible afterward, because it can take several months, and obviously needs to be done before you can travel. You will also want to open a UK bank account as soon as you arrive, which can be done once you have your residential address and a certificate from the student services office at your university verifying that you are in fact a student there. It’s pretty difficult to pay out of non-UK accounts, at least for monthly/recurring transactions, and there are international fees. You will also want a UK phone. I still have my UK phone/phone number despite my current hiatus in America, since most carriers offer free or low-cost roaming in Europe (though subject to change with EU trade negotiations), which is nice. I pay only a little extra to have Global Roaming in North America, so I can still use my phone as if I’m in the UK. If you’re planning to be traveling, this is a nice perk to have.
As far as finding programs goes, I’m sure I don’t need to give you advice on what you’re interested in and where you’re looking. Obviously, universities in the UK are grouped as “Oxford and Cambridge” and “everyone else,” though there are also rankings within those. I have been at both of these; Oxford as an undergrad, and then I did my PhD at a large public university in the North that ranks within the top 10 in the UK. The North will be much lower, living-cost wise (actually, if you can swing it, just… don’t do it in London, the cost of living in London is out of control. Of course, if the program you really have your heart set on is in London, then go for it, but just be aware of what you’re getting into). It’s also a rule of thumb that you don’t go anywhere for a PhD unless they’re paying you. Don’t self-fund a PhD, it’s just too expensive, and any decent university will give you some kind of financial stipend. I had a scholarship that covered three years of full tuition at international rate, which was good, though I had to take out some living-cost loans. So if you’re trying to decide between two programs that have both accepted you, a situation I was also lucky enough to be in, it sounds crass, but: take the money. One university had already offered me the tuition/scholarship, while the other had accepted me but wasn’t sure about funding. So I took the one that paid the scholarship. You need every penny you can get. You will be comically, absurdly, unbelievably broke as a graduate student. I was looking back on it like “wow I really lived for four years on BUTTFUCK NOTHING.” It is not for the faint of heart; you will have financial stress along with academic pressure, and while I was lucky enough to have generous friends and family contributing to my living costs, I still barely scraped through. It is something you should be aware of.
I don’t know if you’ve studied in the UK system before (I’m assuming not), but the structure for a PhD is much less determined than in the American system. It will also vary from university to university, so it’s worth establishing contact with a potential faculty supervisor to ask questions and refine your project proposal. I made contact with my eventual supervisor at my PhD university before I actually applied there; I gave him my (much too broad and pretty unrefined) project proposal and what I was interested in, and he helped me tailor it into something that could be done in a feasible time frame and which would make use of his expertise and contribute to the field. Whatever you’re thinking about pitching as a thesis topic, you probably need to make it more specific. I don’t know what field you’re in; I’m a humanities/history person, obviously, so the rule always seems to be WRITE MORE, INFIDEL. But the point is, the UK system has much less structured time, and basically relies on you to have the self-motivation to go out and conduct the research and write it up, and if you’re someone more used to rigid requirements and classes and so forth, you might find it a little hands-off. If you’re like me and can just be set loose in your field of interest and do your own thing, you’ll like it. I feel like anyone who is serious enough about their subject to want to do a PhD has to be primarily self-motivating, but some people function better with clear guidelines, and those are not always forthcoming. I can’t count the number of times I wished my supervisors would just TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK TO DO, but they usually highlighted something and had me work to figure out how exactly to fix it. They weren’t negligent or uncaring or unsupportive, and the project became much better as a result, but yes, it’s on you to do, and it can again be frustrating.
As far as living, I didn’t try to rent a flat from afar, sight unseen, in my first year. I just registered for postgraduate campus housing, and lived with four predictably horribly messy roommates (why???!) before I managed to escape and rent a private flat for the next three years. You will need a guarantor with a UK address (i.e. not your parents in America) to sign on the lease agreement, especially if you fall below a certain income threshold, and go through the usual background checking and approval. If you want to have the place to yourself, it will be, as noted, much cheaper to find something you can afford in the North and not-London in general, though southern England and the London commuter belt will all be expensive. If you’re okay living with roommates, or you make friends during your program, it might work to room together and share costs, but I am a pathological introvert and don’t like people, so I lived by myself.
Anyway. Right now, I am in the second round of applications for a Big Deal UK postdoctoral award, which would be for three years starting this fall if I got it, at another high-ranking large public university in the south of England. (So yes, everything that I just said about how much it costs to live in London/London suburbs is me playing myself). I would be applying for a Tier 2 visa (i.e. the permanent/settlement track/full-time work visa) if I got this, which would be another barrel of laughs and different requirements from a Tier 4. That is definitely unhatched chickens which we can’t count yet, as this is a highly competitive/prestigious award and there is absolutely no guarantee that I would get it, but it would mean that I would go through the international moving/visa application process for a third time, so I would once again become too unfortunately familiar with whatever bullshittery is happening now. Le sigh.
I don’t know if any of that is helpful; hopefully so. Let me know if you have more questions, and good luck.
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HOTTEST COURSES: How to be more in-demand than ever after the Pandemic
While the extended lock down has been proving to be more of a nightmare than it was expected beforehand, there have been some perks of it as well.
We Got Creative:
We have been stretching out more, reading more books lately (finally, all those dust covered paperbacks are revitalized) and even learning new recipes at home. We are also spending more time with our family and looking out to learn new skills to polish our skills in the meanwhile.
FlashBack:
Once all this is over (hopefully soon) The first thing you’ll ask yourself is, \”How have I spent all the time?\” Has it been spent watching more Netflix than ever, or have you utilized – at least – some of it? You wouldn’t want to have a negative answer to that question right?
It wasn’t Fun!
For many, their jobs have been quite a bit dull for so long that they are actually feeling good to not work at all for some time. To take a break from the dull routine of waking up early, driving or riding to the office and waiting for the day to be over so they could spend some time kicking that monotonous routine out of their minds.
An Opportunity:
If you’re one of those, it is finally a chance to leave that routine behind once and forever. This is a chance for you to learn a new skill; one that is booming or will boom in the near future. You can use this time to polish yourself and come out stronger than before.
What to Do?
But what should I learn? What is trending? What will trend after the pandemic is over?
These questions can only be answered by your strengths. What is it inside you that no one else has? What are you so good at that no one can beat you for it? Some of us have always been shy writers, make-up artists or even actors. This is the best time to focus in on your hidden talents and start refining them so when you come out on the other side of lock down victorious, you are more in demand than ever before.
Take 5 minutes:
Think. What makes you feel good? What is it inside you that yearns to come out? What makes you feel happier? Somewhere inside you, a hidden more talented \”You\” is yearning to be discovered and given voice. Find that \”You\”
Done Yet?
Okay. Now I assume you know what you are good at. Now we need to get you some online courses to polish your skills. Don’t worry, I understand you might want to save every penny for now and that is why I am going to direct you to some platforms that offers free online courses.
Let’s go through the list and decide what would be the best platform for you.
Udemy:
Udemy is definitely full of hidden gems just waiting for you to discover and utilize them to your benefit. While there are many other platforms that offer purely professional courses, Udemy is an \”all-in-one-destination\” for you to learn anything ranging from cooking to guitar learning, digital marketing to programming. While majority of these courses are paid – depending on the niche – many are still free and provide great value.
Linkedin Learning:
LinkedIn is purely professional. You don’t talk about memes, emoji’s and GIFs on LinkedIn. While LinkedIn is a great place to find opportunities, connect with professionals in and out of your field and learn about latest trends in your profession; it also offers a separate platform \”LinkedIn Learning\” to offer professional courses to its members (Signup=Membership) However, it is paid. You get one month of free courses and then it’s $29 per month.
Coursera:
Coursera has recently been in the news after it offered 3800 expert level courses for free to the people who might not be working amid the pandemic. Coursera is mainly professional and holds to-the-point and direct courses. There are short as well as long courses divided into sections for easy learning.
EdX:
\”edX\” similar to Khan Academy is a platform more focused towards the academia compared to general skills. It combines courses from different schools and offer them in form of easy-to-consume courses. It covers a wide variety of topics and if you are someone who needs to browse through 20 different topics (like me) edX might just be the right choice for you.
Alison:
Alison offers free online courses with some of them leading to certifications in their domains. If you are thinking about learning a new language: Alison has some great courses to offer. Most courses on this platform are focused on technology, health and business.
Hubspot:
Brace yourself Marketers as hubspot is offering free courses leading to certifications. While I have been following hubspotfor a long time and learned much from its resources – mainly, blogs, eBooks and guides – I didn’t know about the courses it offers. Hubspot has grown tremendously in recent years and it has offered much value to Digital Marketers, Sales Executives and anyone related to marketing. If you want to learn a great deal about Marketing and Sales (both online and offline) hubspot should be your next stop.
Hey! Wait a sec
That’s it for now guys. I hope you loved the information. If you to read more of my valuable content based on topics ranging from writing and app marketing to app reviews and entertainment, make sure to follow, connect, add me on twitter, LinkedIn and Facebook. The links are attached to my profile. See you soon with another article full of tips for you.
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The Strangers - Chapter One - Cold as Ice
A Joe Mazzello x OC fic
Word Count: 5.8k
Chapter Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, sexual references
A/N: Here we go, gang! Please please please feel free to send me feedback/questions/theories. I want to hear from y’all! Also I do technically have a playlist for this series but since each chapter is a song title, the playlist is a bit on the spoilery side so I’ll wait until after it’s finished to link it. Also sorry that Ben is accidentally Barney Stinson. I needed someone to balance out Joe.
Joe shifted in the cold leather chair he sat in. He couldn’t help but fidget as he patiently waited for the door to the office across from him to open. He looked at his watch. 4:32pm. He’d been waiting for over ten minutes now, hoping that somehow his punctuality would make the meeting to go well.
His eyes wandered to the plaque next to the door. Theatre Arts Department Chair was engraved neatly into the gold metal. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought back to a conversation he had with Ben a week ago, before the meeting had even been scheduled.
“Mate, the fact that you’re not already the department chair over that old geezer is beyond me!” Ben had all but shouted through the crowded bar, swinging his mostly empty beer bottle around wildly. “I mean he doesn’t do shit! He sits at his big desk doing fuck all and takes a huge check home every month! You’re the one who really runs that department.” Joe threw his head back in laughter.
“Well last time I checked, he’s still got the title and I’m still a lowly professor. But I appreciate your enthusiasm, Ben,” Joe replied before finishing off his own beer.
“You should just take that shiny gold plate off the wall and hang it next to your office. See how long it takes that idiot to even notice!” Ben countered before waving down the bartender. Joe noticed and pushed his friend’s arm down.
“I think we’re both done for the night, dude. Besides, you’ve been so focused on me you haven’t even picked out your prey for the night,” Joe teased.
“Ey! Don’t call the women I sleep with and then never call again ‘prey’! I’m offended you think so little of me, Joseph,” Ben argued, before turning to survey the room.
The conversation seemed so long ago to Joe. What had started as a rant about how the department didn’t have enough funding to put on the shows he wanted to do led to a discussion about how Joe hadn’t received a raise in years. Ben urged him to setup a meeting with the department chair. The next day he found himself sending an email to his boss, asking to discuss the plans for the department for the next term.
A day after that, Joe regretted ever hitting send. In his inbox sat an email reply from the grumpy old man himself.
Sure. My office, Friday 4:30pm.
And there he sat, outside that very office, his knee bouncing the messenger bag that sat on his lap as he rehearsed in his head what he wanted to say to the man.
Finally, the door opened and Joe all but jumped to his feet.
“Mr. Mazzello, come on in,” the man growled, his deep gravelly voice giving the impression that he had a perpetual sore throat. Joe shuffled into the large office, eyes glued to the floor, heart pounding. He cursed himself for listening to Ben. He’s rarely listened to Ben before. Why did he start now?
The old man grunted as he sat down, his desk chair that had been there since the department was built squeaking underneath his weight. Joe took a seat in one of the dusty chairs on the other side of the large wooden desk. Clearly this office rarely saw visitors.
As the old man adjusted his tie and glasses, Joe took a moment to glance around the spacious office. The off-white walls were bare except for a few certificates framed behind the elder man’s head. A small bookshelf sat off to the side, the shelves half empty, with only various binders and knick knacks cluttering the spaces. In the corner sat a tall filing cabinet that looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. The man’s desk was almost bare except for a laptop computer, a pile of papers, and one lone picture frame that faced him. Joe couldn’t help but be curious as to who’s face the chairman looked at all day long, considering the man had never married nor had children.
The room was the complete opposite of Joe’s chaotic office. Every bit of wall space in Joe’s office was covered in posters for previous productions, show programs, and framed photos of casts and crews from shows past. He hadn’t seen the actual top of his desk since his first year as a professor, every inch being covered in scripts and books.
“I believe you mentioned in your email that you wanted to discuss next term. If I recall correctly, I already approved next year’s season of shows,” the man said, his head cocked to the side as he stared at the young professor. Joe wrung his hands together as worked up the nerve to respond.
“Yes sir, you did,” was Joe’s simple reply, his voice shaky.
“Then what more needs discussing?” the man asked, somewhat incredulously. Joe took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.
“This past term, we ran into roadblocks when it came to our budget for our productions. We wanted to do things that weren’t realistic when it came to what funding we did have. So I dipped into my own funds to make those things happen. And as a result, we put on some of the best shows the department has ever done.” Joe suddenly found a burst of confidence, surprised at how assured his statements sounded.
“I was unaware of this. Did you submit for reimbursement? That can easily be arranged,” the man replied, his demeanor softening at Joe’s words. Joe felt the energy in the room shift; as if Joe was now in control of the conversation.
“I honestly don’t think that’s necessary, sir. What I am asking for is that you find more in the department budget for our productions, so we can make these things happen with nothing to hold us back,” Joe proposed, the quivering in his voice completely gone now.
The man paused for a moment, processing what had just been asked of him. He turned to his laptop, squinting as he began to mash at the keyboard. Joe sat frozen, his confidence beginning to waver as he waited with bated breath for the old man’s reply. After what felt like an hour, but was probably no more than ten seconds, the man turned back to the auburn-haired professor.
“Consider it done.”
Joe’s eyes widened and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“Sir?” he squeaked out.
“I was extremely impressed with this past season. If you’re telling me you can continue to reach that level of quality and beyond, I see no reason to not expand the production budget,” the man continued. Joe couldn’t help but grin like an idiot, surprised at the response he had gotten.
“Thank you sir, we can absolutely do that,” Joe replied, nodding almost too eagerly. The old man turned back to his laptop, typing away once again.
“I’m also going to approve a 10% salary increase for you,” the man added before standing up and stretching out his hand.
Joe mirrored his actions, getting up so fast that the blood rushed to his head. He took the man’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“Thank you, so much sir. I don’t know what to say,” Joe spat out, realizing that he was probably shaking the man’s hand too long. Joe released the chairman’s hand, realizing his own hands were jittery with excitement.
“No need to say any more, I actually have another meeting in a few minutes. Enjoy the rest of your Friday, Mr. Mazzello,” the man answered, sitting back down and immediately turning back to his computer, as if Joe wasn’t even in the room anymore.
“You too, sir. Thank you again!” Joe crowed as he grabbed his bag and moved towards the exit. The man didn’t even look back up.
It wasn’t until Joe was back in his own office that he truly processed everything that had just happened. Not only did he successfully argue for more funding, he got a raise without even asking. He whipped out his phone, pulling up his friends’ group chat.
Joe: I MADE THAT MEETING MY BITCH Lucy: You kiss your mother with that mouth? Ben: you got the funding???? Joe: AND A RAISE Rami: I have no idea what we’re talking about. Lucy: Babe I told you, Joe was trying to convince the department head to give him more money for shows. Ben: fuck yeah mate!!!! Bevs tonight to celebrate??? Joe: I absolutely need a beer. Or several. Rami: I’m in. Lucy: I’m there too! Ben: as the kids say, let’s get TURNT Joe: Please never say that again.
And that’s how Joe found himself bar-hopping in the city with his three closest friends. After closing out the bill in bar number three, Joe was starting to pass the threshold between tipsy and drunk. He debated about calling himself an Uber, pulling up the app to determine how much one would be. But suddenly his phone was ripped from his hand.
“What do you think you’re doing? The night is so very young, Joseph,” Ben slurred, locking Joe’s phone and putting it in his own pocket. Ben swung his arm around Joe’s shoulders. “We still gotta hit up Sully’s!”
“I’ve heard that place is such a dive, Ben. Can we go literally anywhere else?” Lucy asked, swirling the last of her cocktail before downing it. Rami’s arms were wrapped around her waist while he slowly swayed to the background music playing through the bar’s speakers.
“How else are we gonna find a girl who’ll be interested in Joe?” Ben said with a shit-eating grin, squeezing Joe’s shoulder.
“Gee thanks, Ben,” Joe replied with an eye roll.
“Besides, an old mate of mine is one of the bartenders there. I’m sure he can hook us up with some free drinks or something,” Ben added, practically dragging Joe towards the bar exit. Lucy and Rami followed behind without further argument.
After stumbling four or five blocks, the group finally found the correct street. A neon red sign reading “BAR” hung above the door and the name Sullivan Street was etched in white letters on the window.
Ben led the group inside the almost full bar. Joe couldn’t help but scan the room, Ben’s comment rolling around in his head. Not that he had been actively looking before tonight, but it had been awhile since Joe had been with someone. Mostly because his work took most of his focus away. But with only exam week left before the summer began, Joe felt like he finally had time for something. Or someone.
His eyes darted around the bar as the group continued to follow the blonde Brit. Ben wove through the crowd to the stairs leading to the second floor. The upper floor was much smaller and definitely less crowded. A small bar with one lone bartender was tucked in the corner, while the room was littered with high top tables. At the back of the room was a small stage boasting an array of instruments surrounding a large drumset with the words Parkway Diner neatly painted on the bass drum.
Ben made his way over to the bar, the group close behind. The lone bartender’s face lit up as Ben approached him. While the two exchanged pleasantries and a handshake, the group took seats at the bar, Joe continuing to survey his surroundings. A female laugh rang out and drew his attention to one of the high-tops closest to the stage. The laugh belonged to a small woman with bleached blonde hair that she styled in a messy pixie cut. Her burgundy crew-neck sweatshirt contrasted against the sea of tank tops and t-shirts the other bar-goers wore. A shiny black color coated her nails; standing out against the pale skin of her hand that held her beer.
Joe watched as she clinked that beer with the three men surrounding her at the table. Joe was immediately intrigued by the woman, who almost looked too young to be in a bar. He watched as she pulled out her phone, glancing at the screen before shoving it back into the pocket of her black jeans. She raised her hand, seemingly signaling something to the men around her. They immediately understood whatever the message was, as they all simultaneously left the table and headed through a door next to the stage.
Joe suddenly understood. They were the band, and they had five minutes until their set.
But the woman remained, downing the rest of her beer. She turned and surveyed the room, almost the same as Joe had been doing moments before. All of a sudden, her eyes connected with his, and he found himself smiling.
But the moment was brief, as the woman just continued to look around the room, not even noticing Joe.
“Earth to Mazzello!” Ben’s voice rang out in Joe’s ear, pulling him from his trance.
“Sorry, what?” Joe replied, turning to face his friend.
“Gwil, this inattentive asshole is my coworker, Joe,” Ben said to the tall bartender.
“Pleasure to meet you, Joe,” the bartender greeted, stretching his hand out for a shake. “I’m Gwilym, but call me Gwil.” Joe shook the man’s hand, quickly noticing how much the bartender towered over him.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Joe answered before quickly turning his attention back to the high top by the stage. But the woman had vanished, forcing Joe’s focus back to his friends. “Is there a band performing tonight?”
“Oh yeah. Friday nights we have a seventies pop and rock cover band called Parkway Diner,” Gwil responded, wiping down an empty glass.
“They any good?” Ben asked, playing with a lime on the bar before Gwil swatted his hand away.
“Oh, they’re way too good to be playing here. Their drummer and lead singer is incredible,” Gwil replied before gesturing to the rest of the group. “Drinks anyone? First round is on me.”
Drink orders were taken as a distracted Joe’s mind couldn’t shake the image of the small blonde woman. He looked at his watch, hoping the five minute warning she gave the other men was up soon so she’d reappear.
As if on cue, the other bar patrons began to cheer as the woman and her bandmates entered the stage. The woman pulled two drumsticks from her boot as she found her spot at the drum kit. Joe watched her curiously as she fidgeted with a microphone that was at level with her face.
Before Joe could inquire more about the woman, a guitar riff pierced through the bar. The woman seemed unfazed as she joined in on the drums, the rest of the band following suit. The woman leaned towards the microphone, never missing a beat before singing out.
Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you've been paying Future's coming much too slow And you want to run but somehow you just keep on stayin' Can't decide on which way to go Yeah, yeah, yeah I understand about indecision But I don't care if I get behind People livin' in competition All I want is to have my peace of mind
Joe was entranced by the woman. Her voice was beautifully raspy and harsh, perfectly fitting the hard rock song. She belted every note with ease, all while she drummed away. Joe found himself hypnotized by her passion as she performed, each note and drum beat piercing through him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and a glass of beer was shoved in front of him. He grabbed it, his eyes not leaving the stage for even a moment.
Now you're climbin' to the top of the company ladder Hope it doesn't take too long Can'tcha you see there'll come a day when it won't matter? Come a day when you'll be gone, whoa I understand about indecision But I don't care if I get behind People livin' in competition All I want is to have my peace of mind Take a look ahead, take a look ahead, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Joe was completely blown away. The woman’s fervor in her performance was intoxicating; she played the drums like it was the most important thing she could ever do. But the thing that Joe was most affected by was the woman’s absolute joy as she struck each drum and sang each lyric. She smiled and laughed, seemingly losing herself in the music. Joe was almost jealous; he wracked his memories, trying to determine if he’d ever been that happy in his life.
Now everybody's got advice they just keep on givin' Doesn't mean too much to me Lots of people out to make-believe they're livin' Can't decide who they should be, whoa I understand about indecision But I don't care if I get behind People livin' in competition All I want is to have my peace of mind Take a look ahead, take a look ahead, look ahead
She sang out the last lyric with such intensity, that by the time she stopped singing, Joe realized he had been holding his breath. The woman continued to beat the set in front of her, finishing the song by throwing her sticks above her head.
Joe hadn’t even noticed the crowd that had formed in front of the group until they roared with applause. Joe joined in, cheering and clapping for the performance.
“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding, Gwil,” Rami shouted over the crowd.
“Yeah, they’re the real deal,” Gwil replied before turning his attention to another patron.
The band played a few more songs for the continually growing crowd. Joe’s friends chatted away behind him, while his attention never left the stage. Despite the several drinks he had consumed since the night began, Joe felt sober as ever. He only knew one thing: he needed to meet the woman on the stage before him.
As each song ended, Joe prayed that it was the last, wanting nothing more than for the woman to return to her original high top so he could weave his way over to her. He wanted to be around her, hear her speak, ask her questions. He was so fascinated by her and he didn’t even know her name.
Finally, the desperate man got his wish.
“Thanks everyone, we’re gonna take a short break and be back in a little bit,” the guitar player announced through his microphone.
Joe’s eyes followed the woman as she squeezed past her drumset and the discarded instruments amongst the stage. And much to his delight, she headed right his way.
“Gwilly! The usual please,” the woman shouted before slapping both hands on the bar counter next to Joe, paying him no mind.
“Already got it ready for ya,” Gwil replied, handing her a mixed drink. “Oh, Mar, this is an old mate of mine, Ben. And these are his friends.”
“Gwil, you have a friend other than me? I’m proud of you, bud,” the woman teased before sticking her tongue out at him. Gwil flipped her off in response.
“I’m Lucy and this is my boyfriend Rami. You’re so talented!” Lucy gushed as she rested her hand on her heart. The woman chuckled before responding, the sound like music to Joe’s ears. He wanted nothing more than to make her laugh again and again.
“I’m Marley. And thanks,” she replied quickly before taking a sip of her drink.
“I’m Joe,” Joe added, unable to hide the huge grin that had taken up residence on his face. Marley simply nodded in response, seemingly uninterested in the group’s presence.
“Pleasure,” Marley responded coldly, turning back to Gwil and taking another sip of her drink. “Gwil, can you tell Paul the right amp is being weird again? I can still hear a tiny bit of feedback.”
Joe wanted her attention again, but the woman seemed more focused on the drink in her hand than anything else.
“Why can’t you tell him?” Gwil countered, pouring a beer for himself.
“He’s still mad I called him a cuntfuck, so he’s giving me the silent treatment,” Marley answered, before she downed the rest of her drink, slammed the glass on the counter, and headed back in the direction of the stage.
And just like that she was gone. The group was left speechless, with Joe caught up on the way she said “cuntfuck” so casually.
“Well she’s a friendly one, huh?” Ben sarcastically commented after a few seconds of awkward silence.
“Yeah that’s Mar for ya. She’s a bit rough around the edges. Took her months of playing here to finally warm up to me,” Gwil offered.
“Is she single?” Joe asked, his own words surprising him. He had been thinking it, but wasn’t planning on actually asking it. Gwil let out a deep belly laugh.
“Good luck with that one, mate. Like I said, tough one to crack,” Gwil said, continuing to laugh.
Joe furrowed his brow, put off by the man’s laugh at his expense. So she was not the most friendly person at first. Big deal, Joe had met people like her before. He had students who put up the same walls. He knew that under her hard shell, she was full of passion. He could tell by the way she lost herself in her music.
Joe knew he had to be patient. He knew people like that needed time to open up, to be vulnerable. He didn’t want to “figure her out”; he didn’t want to search through her soul and dig up her deepest insecurities. He wanted her to offer herself openly, to trust him enough to let down her walls.
Joe chastised himself for only saying two words to her, feeling like he fumbled their first meeting. But he wasn’t going to let that or Gwil’s reaction deter him.
Marley. Her name rang through his mind as he watched her return to her spot behind the bass drum, effortlessly twirling a drumstick between her fingers. The familiar intro of “Roxanne” by the Police rang out through the room. Joe spotted an empty high top closer to the stage, the same table the band had occupied before their first set. He made his way over to it, weaving through the droves of people singing along, leaving his friends and the judgmental bartender behind. He leaned on the table, nursing his beer as Marley and the rest of the band played their hearts out. Joe’s eyes centered in on the fiery blonde, watching every flick of her wrists, every arch of her back. She finished singing the first chorus and flung her head to the side, letting the music dictate her movement. She bobbed to the beat of the musical break, turning to survey the crowd.
And for the second time that night, her eyes locked onto Joe’s. This time he wasn’t grinning like an idiot. He kept his eyes soft, but his face almost completely neutral. Her stare lingered for a moment, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips before turning back to the mic to start the next verse.
Progress, Joe thought. He only wanted to pique her curiosity in him, to even the playing field a bit. Marley had taken up so much space in Joe’s head already, he wanted her to wonder about him too.
The rest of the group eventually joined him at the high top as the night went on. Rami and Lucy swayed to the music and even sang along to some of the songs, with Ben more focused on the drunk brunette who had been hanging all over him for the past half hour. Every once in awhile, Marley’s eyes would meet Joe’s. Each meeting was like a duel, both parties challenging the other to look away. Joe won every time, having the advantage of not having to perform for a group of rowdy bar-goers.
After a few more classic seventies hits, the band finally finished their set to deafening applause from the crowd. Joe had to admit that Gwil was right about one thing, they really were way too good to be playing in a dive bar like Sully’s. Joe wondered if they played original music, filing that question away for when he actually got to have an actual conversation with Marley.
The three men each bowed while Marley simply gave the audience a half-assed mock salute before climbing off the stage and heading straight back to the bar. Joe stood up straight from the table, before an arm snaked around his shoulders.
“You ready to call it?” Lucy asked, resting her head against Joe. “Rami is seconds away from falling asleep. I think Ben fucked off somewhere with that girl so the three of us can split an Uber.” Joe glanced in the direction of the bar, the stools empty except for Marley, who appeared to be having a wildly dramatic conversation with Gwil.
“I think I’m gonna stick around, Luce. But thanks,” Joe replied, snaking his own arm around Lucy’s back to pull her into a side hug.
“Okay, text me when you get home so I know you’re not dead,” she added before peeling Rami off the high top.
“Will do.”
He patted his pocket and suddenly realized that Ben still had his phone. Well shit. He shook the thought from his head. He had more important matters to attend to.
Once the pair disappeared down the stairs, Joe began to make his way back over to the bar. He quickly downed the rest of his beer as he approached, giving him a reason to go to the bar other than the woman perched at it. Suddenly he was cut off by a hand landing on his shoulder.
“Hey, there you are. Where are the lovebirds?” Ben questioned, eyes darting around in search of the couple.
“They headed out. Where have you been?” Joe countered, shrugging Ben’s hand off.
“Oh you know, the bathroom,” Ben answered evasively. Joe then noticed the dark mark under Ben’s left ear and he suddenly understood.
“For fuck’s sake, Ben. Not even taking her back to your place this time? You just knocked it out in the bathroom of a shitty bar?” Joe teased, shaking his head.
“Hey, I offered, but the girl had no patience. I just gave her what she wanted,” Ben boasted. Joe rolled his eyes.
“What a gentleman,” Joe commented. “Can I have my phone back please?”
“So what are you still doing here?” Ben asked, slamming Joe in the chest with his own phone. Joe took the phone back and simply looked in the direction of the bar at the woman seated there. She was laughing at something Gwil had said, the sound carrying throughout the bar that was slowly emptying now that the show was over. Ben followed Joe’s eyes and understood immediately. “You trying to go for the drummer?”
“I just want to talk to her,” Joe admitted, his voice low.
“Well good thing your best friend is here to wingman for ya,” Ben offered, swinging an arm around Joe’s shoulders. Joe shrugged it off with a chuckle.
“Lucy is my best--”
“Shut up, let’s go,” Ben interrupted before heading towards the bar. He slapped his palms down on the counter, much like Marley had done before. He slid on the stool one away from Marley, giving Joe the opportunity to take the spot next to her. Maybe Ben did know what he was doing. Joe took his seat, briefly glancing to his right. He found Marley’s brown eyes glaring at him for a moment before turning back to her drink.
“Gwilym, another round for me and Joseph. The boy needs it,” Ben exclaimed. The tall bartender nodded before grabbing two glasses.
Joe pondered what to say to the woman next to him. He wanted to come off as cool and collected, not wanting to act like he was as engrossed by her as he truly was. He didn’t want her to think he was some slimy dude trying to get in her pants. He needed to establish himself as someone as intriguing as she was. Gwil handed him his beer with a nod and a knowing smile. He was onto Joe.
Joe pushed the bartender out of his head and leaned slightly in Marley’s direction.
“I’m sure you hear this all the time, but you’ve got a killer voice,” Joe offered, his own voice somewhat quiet so only she could hear him. He played the sentence back in his head. Was it too gushy? Was it too cliche? Suddenly his normal confidence when talking to women was disappearing. He was second-guessing himself. He found himself briefly glancing at Ben for his reaction, but the Brit was too wrapped up in a conversation with Gwil. He was on his own. Some wingman, Joe thought. But his trepidation was immediately sated by Marley’s slight chuckle.
“Eh, I don’t mind hearing it anyway. Thanks,” Marley answered, holding her drink towards him, almost as a peace offering. Joe smiled and clinked his glass against hers. They both took a sip of their respective drinks before Joe continued.
“It kind of begs the question, what the hell are you doing in a place like this?” Joe inquired, propping his elbow on the bar and his chin on his knuckles. Marley was unfazed by the question, giving a noncommittal shrug.
“Pays the bills,” she responded, fingers tracing the condensation on her glass.
“Why seventies music?” Joe asked. Marley finally turned to face him, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.
“You are just full of questions, aren’t you?” Marley challenged. Joe was unsure if she was genuinely annoyed or just playing with him. He decided to take the risk.
“How else are we supposed to get to know each other?”
“Who says I want to get to know you?”
“Well you haven’t called me a ‘cuntfuck” yet, so I’m taking that as a good sign.”
Marley threw her head back with a cackle, the sound reverberating through Joe’s chest.
“Touche, random guy, touche,” she finally said, arching an eyebrow. “You haven’t been a cuntfuck. At least not yet.”
“I guess there’s still time,” Joe added with a smile. “And it’s Joe.”
“Right. Joe,” she corrected, unfolding her arms and relaxing a bit. Joe was now close enough to notice that her maroon sweatshirt had small white text across the front of it. Squinting to try and decipher it in the dim lighting of the bar, he suddenly recognized the words. The infamous “to be or not to be” speech from Hamlet.
“Shakespeare, huh?” Joe pointed out, nodding his head in the direction of the text in question. “A woman after my own heart.”
Another deep cackle. This one a bit more forced than the last.
“Not in the slightest,” Marley responded with a smirk, patting Joe’s thigh and turning back to sip her drink. The interaction was confusing, her words like a slap in the face but her touch warming every inch of his body. Joe couldn’t let himself get caught up in the moment. He had to keep the conversation going, or she’d lose interest.
“So do you agree with Hamlet?” Joe asked. Marley cocked her head, clearly surprised by either the question itself or the fact that Joe wasn’t discouraged by her rejection. Maybe both. She turned back to the man, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Are you asking if I agree that the concept of death is scary? Or if I agree that taking one’s life is the most powerful thing one can do the combat the shittiness of living? Because both questions are pretty heavy-handed considering we’ve just met,” Marley argued, leaning forward to emphasize her point.
“Would you rather I ask about your favorite color or whether you prefer Coke to Pepsi?” Joe countered, arching an eyebrow. Marley paused, eyeing Joe up and down and pursing her lips.
“I would rather ask you a question for once, oh curious one,” she finally answered. More progress. He had her hooked. “So. Joe. What do you do? You know, other than pester random women in bars.” It was Joe’s turn to chuckle.
“I’m a theatre professor over at the college,” Joe revealed. Marley smirked and nodded.
“Oh, yeah. That explains a lot,” Marley commented, before finishing her drink. Joe folded his arms this time, leaning closer.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Marley opened her mouth to respond, but Gwil appeared.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re closing up shop soon,” the bartender admitted, swinging a towel over his shoulder and handing Joe his bill. Joe glanced at his watch. 1:57am. He groaned, knowing his time with the woman was up.
“Well, this certainly has been...a conversation,” Marley declared, drumming her fingers on her thighs. Joe signed his bill with a smile.
“That it was,” Joe replied, before grabbing a cocktail napkin. He jotted down his number and slid the napkin towards Marley. She eyed the napkin with an arched eyebrow. “In case you want to banter with me again.”
Marley’s eyes flashed between Joe and the napkin a few times. Joe held his breath, hoping the bold move would pay off. After a few more seconds and another pursing of her lips, she snatched the napkin and stuffed it into her pocket. Without another word, she hopped off the stool and disappeared into the door next to the stage.
Joe finally let out the breath he had been holding, sliding off of his own bar stool. Ben nudged him.
“How’d you do? I’ll be honest, I was not paying attention whatsoever,” Ben admitted, as the two men began to make their way down the stairs and towards the bar’s exit.
“Yeah, I noticed. And I think it went well. I gave her my number,” Joe answered. Ben chuckled and shook his head lovingly.
“Mate, you’re supposed to get her number,” Ben countered as he pushed the front door of the bar open for the two of them.
“I figured she probably wouldn’t give it to me if I asked. So I put the ball in her court,” Joe said with a shrug.
A short Uber ride later, Joe found himself back in his own apartment. He sighed as he settled into bed, Marley still at the forefront of his mind. Everything about her was absolutely fascinating. She had a youthful radiance about her, yet she was hard and cynical. She performed with such love for what she was doing, but the second she was off the stage, she hated the world. Joe hadn’t met anyone like her before.
But for now all he could do was let his mind wander, and hope that he’d hear from her soon.
All he could do was wait.
--
Taglist: @hellysthings @queenspur @briarrose26
#joe mazzello#joe mazzello x oc#joe mazzello fic#joe mazzello imagine#joemazzmatazz#ben hardy#rami malek#lucy boynton#gwilym lee
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welp.
do you ever wonder why the fuck some people can deposit checks for $164k and not blink? money doesn’t buy happiness but it sure makes being happy a lot easier when you aren’t thinking about bills.
sometimes people suck. a woman asked if knew how to copy something so i could help one of the bankers out. somebody asked why i couldn’t remember her name despite me only seeing her once every couple months and never really talking-talking and actually having a million other clients. somebody said, i don’t think a teller can help me. i need to see somebody with a desk. (sure. let me grab my tablet. my desk is the one in the corner with the plant, a picture of me with my girlfriend and cat, and all the desk toys. i’ll be right over.) another person said, i’ll ask the manager [about an obscure online banking thing that even i now little about but have given you my 98% sure answer] instead.
friends. i’m rambling and ranting to you because i am sad and have terrible coping mechanisms. but also because i want to complain about my job.
i work at a large financial institution. i have worked there for 14 months. the district manager didn’t want to hire me but my manager fought for me. in those fourteen months i have:
earned two certifications, one in anti-money laundering and bank secrecy act compliance and one in fraud prevention. two certifications not required for my role.
had my transaction authority (how much cash i can give out or how large of checks i can write without consulting somebody else with a higher authority) increased from $2,500 to $50,000
given wire transfer authority (huuuuge risk if you fuck up)
given official backup management authority by my manager and market operations (compliance) analyst
more or less filled the role of assistant manager (a role which no longer exists across the board)
volunteered to join a specific group of people dedicated to reaching out to clients for at least three hours a week
invited to a special counsel to provide thoughtful questions and advice to my district manager
asked to join the committee to help plan the company’s 2020 participation in pride
nominated to travel to another state to help open new locations because of my dedication and knowledge of company resources and professional development
told by the regional manager to stay in touch throughout my career after following up with a role-related meeting (see fifty or sixty some people where i was memorable)
impressed pretty much everybody who i’ve ever worked with
i still am paid at the lower end of my possible pay scale. i am still considered the entry level position despite having privileges that folks with five years of experience don’t have. i am the person that several private wealth (investable assets greater than $100k) turn to when they need something because i am efficient and competent.
i sent an international wire transfer today. we usually ask for 45 minutes to an hour to allot towards the process because there are a lot of steps. my client asked how long it would take and i said i could have her free before her next appointment in forty minutes. what i didn’t tell her is that i am confident in my ability to do an international wire in 25 minutes or less. i sent the wire. then we had time for me to figure out how to fix her paypal account linked to the bank.
she said she would come back to me next time she needed help.
she isn’t the only person.
i have a great manager inasmuch as she trusts me to do my own thing and gives me the time to work on my development if i ask for it. she is terrible at coaching. kind of terrible at advocating for me. she’s the manager who will be a good friend after i exit my current position whenever that may be.
i have an incompetent white man who should have retired five years ago as my colleague. he clings to old systems and old guidelines and for the life of him can never remember how to do anything or figure out anything on his own despite having nineteen years tenure more than me. it takes him two hours to send an international wire and he still makes mistakes.
i am trying to remove myself from a customer-facing role. i’ve been a top contender for roles to which i’ve applied internally. i have had recruiters at other institutions reach out to me. i have a mentor who advocates for me for requisitions that require several more years of official experience than i possess.
but i am still stuck. i’m stuck in a way that makes me feel like my life is in limbo even though i am ready to try to begin the next stage with the person i love, which is on hold for a number of reasons.
my life felt like it was imploding two years ago and then i found tumblr and fandom and friends again. there was support and stability in my life again. i got a job with insurance so i didn’t have to pay $400 for the medications that were keeping me from drowning. i met my person. i stopped having as many down days and started feeling productive and accomplished again and like i wasn’t the complete failure i felt like when i withdrew from my phd program.
i really, really fucking wanted this job in denver. not just because of the 50% pay increase but because it was a chance to start laying down roots in a place that could be long-term home. a place where i might actually begin to build a family of my own. the possibility signaled the light at the end of the tunnel for my ldr. a chance for me to prove and show so much more professionally and personally.
i was devastated. i am devastated. not necessarily because i didn’t get the position but because of what getting that position could have offered. might have promised.
and now shit’s just fucked and i’m stressed because Life.
my job is pissing me off. my handful of clients that know me, who only want to work with me, are my job’s saving grace. helping them (and other people who don’t yell at me) is why i find my job bearable even if i want to jump off a cliff every time my ancient colleague speaks or somebody assumes he knows more than me because he’s an old white guy in a suit rather than me, a baby-faced, non-binary queer who has tattoos but still wears ties to work.
i am just tired.
i am tired, friends.
and now i guess i am going to curl up in bed with my plushie baby stitch and play hooky through tomorrow because i am stressed and sleep deprived and sad and tired.
sorry to dump. and sorry to all the folks out there who have it worse than me. fwp.
sorry. all the sorry’s.
#newt is feeling all the feels#this is me#personal#i’m sorry i only realized recently that i’ve been dumping this all on you#i’m sorry#all the sorrys
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weak endeavors chapter four: instinct
@soulxmakaweek
Summary: For SoMa Week 2019. Soul’s an underground boxer who’s just trying to make some extra money to start his own life, it’s not his fault that his trainer’s daughter seems to catch his eye, and he can’t seem to stop her from wiggling her way into his life. Mature for adult language and situations.
FFN Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13266914/1/weak-endeavors
Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549988/chapters/4396711
Sorry this chapter is a day late, I’m a teacher and had a tough day yesterday so I didn’t have a chance to finish proofing it. Here’s the chapter now though! Enjoy!
Trivia night use to be the worst, but with Maka on the team, Soul actually felt proud.
It had been something Blake had started a few months back to bring in customers to the bar, and Soul typically worked on those nights because people seemed to actually enjoy trivia. After Maka had begun to show up and play until the bar closed (and distract Soul), Blake had decided to let Soul have trivia nights off. Currently, their team consisted of Maka, Soul, Kilik, and Kid. The remainder of the group was working, besides Tsubaki, who was trying her best to fight off a cold.
Their group stood around a cocktail table, each of them with a drink in hand and eyes glued onto the T.V. screen in the back of the bar. It was an app game of some sort, where each team put their name in. A question would then pop up on the T.V. and the teams would have to answer within a given time limit. So far, there were only three teams playing, but their team was in the lead by two hundred points.
Maka was tucked against Soul’s side, his arm around her waist as they laughed at a joke Kilik told them. Another month had come and gone, a month since Soul had woken up to a hungover Maka cuddled into his chest. A month of his heartbeat picking up a little more every time she touched him or left one of her casual kisses.
“Oh, I know this one,” Maka gasped as she looked at the app on her phone quickly, tapping rapidly on one of the answers. A green check mark appeared on the screen and the team received two hundred more points.
The next questions flashed on the T.V. screen. What does the term ‘piano’ mean?
“Pick B,” Soul said as he sipped on his drink. Maka blinked at him for a moment before picking the answer, to be played softly. A green check mark flashed on the phone again, and the team got another two hundred points. Maka looked up at him and smiled.
“How did you know that?”
“I play piano.”
“Really,” Maka turned towards him and Soul let his arm drop, already missing her warmth, “how come I never knew that?”
“Never came up,” Soul finished the last of his drink, “I’m gonna grab another drink. Want anything?”
“Nope,” Maka smiled at him again and looked back at the T.V. as Kilik said to press answer C. Soul smiled as he watched her and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head before walking to the bar.
“You’re in it, man,” Blake said once he arrived to help Soul.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
Soul rolled his eyes and took his drink. When he joined the others, the round for trivia night was over and they had won. Maka looked happy as she talked to the others and Soul slid into the conversation.
“I didn’t know you were into the arts,” Kilik said as Soul joined, “you know, I’m in the visual arts program as Uni. They have a pretty good music program too.”
“You should apply,” Maka gasped, turning to slap Soul on the chest, “it’s perfect.”
“Whoa, easy there,” Soul looked at the group, “I haven’t played in a while, I just mess around with writing stuff. The only piano I have is some electric keyboard I found on the side of the road a few months ago. Plus, I work at two dead-end jobs. I don’t have money for a University.”
“There’s scholarships,” Kid spoke up, “and I think my father made sure there were enough for at least five admissions per program. He’s good at that kinda stuff, thought I think five is a little high.”
“Yeah, and loans,” Maka chimed in, “I used loans, which suck because you have to pay them back, but I could help you fill out paperwork.”
“I’m good,” Soul took a sip of his drink, “besides, I don’t even think I wanna go back to school.”
“You don’t think,” Maka tapped his head with her finger, “that’s for sure.”
“Hey, watch it blondie.”
Maka stuck her tongue out at Soul before leaving to use the restroom. He watched as she walked away and into the hallway that lead to the restrooms. He turned back to Kilik and Kid who were now debating the pros and cons of college admissions. Soul wondered how he tolerated the two whenever they began to debate.
“Why haven’t you thought about school, Soul?” Kilik asked, trying to get out of the conversation with Kid.
“Dunno,” Soul shrugged, “money and timing mostly.”
“Well, like you said earlier, you’ve got two jobs now,” Kid said, “and you’ve been in this area for, what, a year now? Do you think you’re going to move somewhere else any time soon?”
“I haven’t thought about it, but you never know.”
“I think you should at least tour,” Kilik finished the last of his own beer, “just to check out the place. It’s a history school, so about half the classes revolve around the history or your major and when you graduate, you have a certification in the history of whatever you’re majoring. I’ll have a certification in modern-era sculptures and architecture.”
“Maka told me you did a lot of sculptures. What do you use?”
“Mostly metals. I like to heat them up and see how they react.”
“Pyromaniac,” Kid smirked. Kilik punched the other man in the shoulder and then went to get himself another drink.
“If you want a tour I can set one up,” Kid said, turning towards Soul, “since my father’s out of town right now I have been taking over some of his duties as dean. I can arrange a private tour, have you introduced to some professors as well.”
“Thank Kid, but I don’t really think that’s my kinda crowd.”
“Just think about it.”
“Okay,” Soul’s eyes flicked to the hallway Maka had disappeared down, “I’ll think about it.”
“I grabbed another one for you too Kid,” Kilik joined the guys again, putting down a second beer bottle, “when does the next trivia round start?”
“How long has Maka been gone?” Soul asked, looking for the clock in the bar.
“I don’t know,” Kid replied, looking at his watch, “maybe ten, fifteen minutes? But the women’s restroom is usually a pretty long wait.”
“Yeah, but there’s not too many girls here tonight,” Soul took a sip from his beer before putting it down on the cocktail table, “I’ll be right back.”
“So protective,” Kilik sighed as Soul walked away.
Soul made his way towards the hallway, mumbling excuse me as he pushed past a few people. As he got closer, he heard a familiar, rugged voice echoing from the hallways followed by Maka’s own retorte.
“I said,” Maka snarled as Soul rounded the corner, “no thanks.”
As the scene unfolded, Soul felt the voice inside of his head laugh madly.
Maka was pushed up against the wall, eyes made of fire as Ragnarok leaned forward, trapping her in with one arm pinned against the wall and the other one beginning to creep up her thigh, fingers threatening to push up under her skirt.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Ragnarok smirked, “I’ll be the best you’ve ever been with, I can promise that.”
“Get your fucking hands,” Soul growled, snapping the two’s attention to him, “off my girl.”
Before Ragnarok could retaliate, Soul was down the hallway. He swung and landed a punch on Ragnarok’s cheek, making the man stumble backwards, but ultimately freeing Maka from the intrusion. She hissed his name at him as she reached out and gripped the front of his shirt, tugging for him to follow her and leave the situation.
“You mother fucker,” Ragnarok laughed, rubbing the blood from his mouth as he turned to face Soul, “it’s fine, take your slut and run off.”
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“No, I don’t think I did,” Soul moved towards the man again, ignoring Maka’s plead for him to back off. “Say it again. Say it again and see what happens. I knocked your ass down once, I can do it again.”
“I said,” Ragnarok loomed over him, but Soul’s presence filled the hallway, “take your fucking slut and run off. It’s okay, I’m sure she’s working with her pussy of a father to make some extra money. Nothing wrong with a little side work, sweetheart, and I am willing to pay.”
Soul hadn’t know what it meant when people said they saw red, but in that moment, it finally clicked.
His fist went flying and the two men began to fight. Maka hollered for help behind them, but neither of the men seemed to hear her. As Soul dodged one of Ragnarok’s punches, he heard the voices of Kilik and Kid from down the hall, along with some other guys as they came to break up the fight. Soul was pulled away, and something silver caught the corner of his eye.
Maka stood in front of him, raising her hands to touch his face, eyes inspecting a bruise forming on his cheekbone, but behind her Ragnarok had pulled out a switchblade, and swung it open. His arm arched and he brought it down, and suddenly everything was in slow motion. Soul yelled for Maka and she began to turn around, eyes wide. Then, he broke free of the grip Kilik and a stranger had on him, shoving Maka to the side and watched as the blade narrowly missed her, but landed on the new target -- him.
There was a scream, some yelling, and Soul watched as blood began to soak the front of his shirt. But, a fist connected with the side of his head and then all he saw was black.
---
Soul woke up to the smell of antiseptics and the warmth of a hand in his.
He didn’t open his eyes because he could already feel the brightness of the room behind his eyelids, but he listened because there was another person in the room that he could feel. And there were words, words he couldn’t quite make out, but if he listened closely enough …
“Baby, I just … I’m worried. I don’t wanna see you go down the path your mom and I went down,” Spirit’s voice sounded far away but Soul knew he was in the room.
“I understand Papa,” it was Maka who was holding his hand because as she spoke, he felt her grip tighten, “but this isn’t you and Mama. Soul and I, what we have going on, it’s … different. We’re friends.”
Spirit added something else, but there was a pull inside of Soul towards sleep and the next thing he knew he was waking back up, this time blinking his eyes open.
“Well shit,” Blake was sitting next to his bed, hair a bit disheveled but a loopy grin plastered to his face, “there’s the ugly bastard.”
“What are you doing here,” Soul groaned, closing his eyes again, “and why do I ache so much.”
“Well, you got pretty beat up,” Blake sighed, leaning back in his chair, “from what I heard, you and Ragnarok got in a fight, he pulled a knife, and you got in the way. You had to get a few stitches there, dude.”
“Fuck,” he groaned again, touching his chest and feeling the rough pattern of stitches underneath the medical gown. He flinched, forgetting how sensitive the wound would be. “Where’s Maka? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s a little shook up but that girl is made of steel. She went to get some coffee.”
“Jesus,” Soul moved and sat up a little more, wincing at the soreness of the wound.
“Oh my God,” a voice came from the door of the room and the boys turned to see Maka standing there with two cups of coffee in hand, “Oh my God, you’re awake!”
She almost dropped the coffees as she rushed to the bedside, thrusted the cups at Blake, and then threw her arms around Soul’s neck. He wanted to tell her that she was hurting his chest, but the warmth and smell of her pushed the pain away. Soul lifted his arms, wrapping then gingerly around Maka. She pulled away after a moment, her hands moving from his shoulders to his face as she ran a thumb over his cheek.
“This is my cue to leave,” Blake said as he stood up, grabbing his cup of coffee, “I’ll let the other’s know you’re up and good.”
“I should get the doctor,” Maka said as she pulled back. Soul grabbed her wrist as she stood, Blake already out of the room.
“Stay a little long,” Soul pulled her back and Maka slid onto the cot, sitting next to him, “I don’t wanna worry about me, I wanna check on you.”
“Soul, you’re the one who got basically stabbed,” Maka rolled her eyes and moved her hand to be holding his, “I mean, seriously? What even made you think that was a smart idea.”
“Instinct?” He offered with a raised eyebrow. Maka smirked and shook her head at him. “I’d rather it be me than you in this situation.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Maka reached out again, pressing her free hand to his cheek, “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“I’m glad you’re safe,” Soul placed his hand over hers and he turned to kiss her palm, mirroring the time he did it so long ago. (Was it really only two months?) “If he hurt you … I don’t know what I would have done.”
“But he didn’t,” Maka leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his, “and that’s what matters.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he replied.
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Christmas Eve Night, 2016- St. Anthony and the Donkey Statue at the Franciscan Shrine of St. Anthony.
My Shrine of Solitude- The Place of Miracles....An Angelic Voice In Jeopardy.
Since my last post worked so well on trying to find a link of Padre Pio and Sunflowers [insert eye roll], I am for, who knows why, attempting to do this, again. As I said the first time, I don’t know how to do this site. Maybe this is not for asking, maybe people can’t help? I don’t know, but I’ve got to do something!
I may appear pious and prayerful, but I am not. I am in a rush to try and just start Christmas shopping, make mass, get in Confessions, pray, to pray and pray for my beloved friend, for her health and conversion.With so little time, little sleep, wanting to give up, I can’t. And I know it’s all up to Jesus, but I have to pray, that’s all I can do. And I get mad because more problems happen that I suddenly don’t know about, I lash out at someone because I am trying to fix it and am exhausted, have gotten no where, so I have to go make amends, and back to the confessional I go. But this woman who means the world to so many in the world that was diaganosed out of the blue with stage 4 pancreatic cancer, on the day of historic terror- September 11. Or, as I will know call it, “The Day My World Went Purple (that’s the awareness color for pancreatic cancer).”. I did not know what a pancreas even was before I learned of her diagnosis, which came at the worst time, not that any time would be appropriate. But, I mean I was going through it, really, and a week before an ending that I thought would end torture (that was only just beginning, which I’ve had to separate from and give to Jesus for my friend, but ultimately for myself), is when I find out this woman, who was my first co-worker in my first “real-world” job out of college, along with her sister.
To make a long story short (as this isn’t on this topic and I tend to write lengthy these days that makes no sense as I’m up all night doing or praying, and not getting anywhere!), after getting a B.A. degree in Sociology, otherwise known as “pessimism”, but with a concern for the social welfare of others- to the extreme (blame Mitch Albom and Tuesday’s with Morrie, I wanted to be him, I wanted what he had, and I did get it, except a love of sports, ability to play piano, the ability to write like him and the ability to make a difference despite any efforts without going nuts), I naively, and perhaps even with pride, thought I would have people knocking on my door to offer me a position now that I had a degree. I had worked in politics in college, learned fundraising, campaign lingo, legislative initiatives, drafting various correspondence, etc., as that was what I originally was going to get into- I wanted to be an adopted Kennedy, only I don’t have the jaw line. And while our politics are not the same, while I am much more Catholic than I was at first, though always was an elephant due to our Governor at the time, but the job I was at never asked and I never told! And truthfully, I was in the middle, happily like Switzerland. But, I pathetically thought with that experience, in a recession, unlike any we had ever faced, I would have to do nothing. And then, once Obama was elected, and the country was happy, and then the excitement wore off, I was still at home. Then came looking for a job, and looking. Then desperation and depression. Until, I finally, after almost 2 years stumbled upon what seemed perfect- an advocacy like job working with those with intellectual disabilities, running a department where I’d write funding plans and and speak up for benefits these individuals needed. NOPE! Not it. My first day on the job, along with 2 others, was the first of a 6 week orientation where I met the Director of Nursing, who came in, took out a bowl, a Tupperware of cereal, and milk and ate her breakfast, as she had been on duty all night, while explaining that we had to have our Med Tech Certification since we would be working in the building with those with intellectual disabilities and be on an on-call rotation, so we needed it “just in case.” I thought she was absolutely insane- and I had just received a message on my phone about another job (when I had heard nothing for 2 years, and desperately needed to call these people back!). But, I stayed, and on about the 2nd or 3rd day of her training she took us to the building down the street, and introduced myself, the new residential coordinator and one of the young girls that would be working in the Day Program to this laid back, tall blonde, who was the Day Program Coordinator, whose name, was “Woody.” And again, I thought, I need to leave. But, that was a nickname...from childhood, as it turns out they were sisters, and the Day Program Coordinator was rather new herself. After the training, which I didn’t know I needed any of that and still am scarred from it, and cannot look at a grapefruit without thinking of an enema (don’t ask!), I got to work. My position was a coordinator that ran what one would think was easy- a department for those that had mild intellectual disabilities, could live on their own with mentor hours, or staff I supervised that gave a few hours a week to take one grocery shopping, running errands to keeping them occupied. Or, it also meant, children, those under 21, living at home in the care of their parents, who were still getting special education services at school. But, it wasn’t that simple. 10-15% of my time was writing funding plans which I loved! There were other issues, most staff was out on leave due to babies or family leave. But the clients, as mild as their intellectual disability was, all the more was their mental illness. I have a deep sympathy and empathy for anyone with a mood disorder and that is a cause I will advocate for, as I, too, have one. I started antidepressants that November, after waiting so long and arguing to not want to take them. I then needed anti-anxiety meds, and I’ve been on them ever since. The job was a nightmare, I saw horrors no one should see, or experience. And I had no choice but to quit. If it was not for the woman whose office was next door, I would never have made it through any day of the week. She had a grace about her. And the crazy sister, well, they both are crazy, but they were the most normal in a place that wasn’t operating things correctly. The Director of Nursing, because she knew what went on and with whom and what was right called the higher ups, always in another building out on their violations, and was wrongfully demoted and she left. I followed suit, but it took gusto to get out, because the guilt to leave the clients was the worst. They were a handful, in my department, they could have killed me with kindness, with heartache, with a sharp tongue to a shovel, but I loved them. And 2 weeks before I was to depart, giving 4 weeks as a supervisor, one had to be admitted to the psychiatric hospital and I requested to extend that 2 more weeks, to make sure that client that really wore me down, to drinking a bottle of vodka every night, was okay. It was granted, and she was okay. And I left, but not a week later I ended up in the hospital for my first suicide attempt.
It is NOT the job that did it, while yes it played a part, I was a depressed person. The idea of leaving to go sit at home and apply for jobs didn’t sit well with me, or the idea of another additional medication, as it made it seem like I failed everything. But you find out things quickly when moments like that happen, who cares and who doesn’t. Who are your friends, and who are not. When the world walked away, when there was not a soul in sight, it was my co-worker, turned friend, turned family, who plopped herself down and didn’t leave. Annoying as that was. It was her, that was there in my darkest, and not my only one, moment. And as if that wasn’t enough, after family a brutal, and mandatory, though I was an adult, meeting, when you have lovely and wonderful parents who just don’t get it, but promise a stress free home, no annoyances, and some rest, the day of discharge, your Mom finds out after a bunch of negative tests, that she does in fact have a very rare form, one that only 1% of the population gets, of Breast Cancer. So, while my Mom’s health is certainly important, all those promises- out the window. But, the ones to keep them, as well as care for my Mom, make sure she had answers on medicines after a mastectomy to anything she needed, while making sure I got out of the house for weekends away to the beach or “Girls’ Night” was my family- the two crazy sisters. And when I needed a primary doctor, my next door office co-worker turned beloved friend, convinced the most popular doctor to accept me when she could no longer take on new patients, it was who her and her sister went to, who we sadly are losing, as of 12/31 because while young and top-rated, it’s too much paperwork and too many rules on how a physician can treat a patient. And that was a project, I should have been able to fix, but I didn’t have time, not with my sick friend and praying and deaths to all these other disasters. My appointment was last Monday, and it was AWFUL. See, I’ve gone on too long, this is never going to work- but no one can describe this beautiful soul and everything she has been through. That’s not her story, not in the least. And pancreatic cancer, I’ve done the research, I’ve joined the groups and it’s awful. No advances, the statistics are crazy, the median survival rate for stage 4, well look that up, I can’t. And all she can get is chemo, because her cancer is on the tail, she cannot get something called a whipple, she cannot get radiation, she can just get chemo. And it’s already spread, to her kidneys, and lymph nodes (if that’s how you spell?) And that’s all I will say, as this wasn’t meant to be on here, but, you know, this is about St. Anthony and his miraculous intercession, so if someone is inclined, here is a link to a GoFundMe page for her medical expenses, that I am not responsible for making up, the credit belongs to someone else. And prayers always work, too. I’m maxed out, financially, not prayer wise, but God gives us all we need, so I have to give that worry up, too. Until then, I will be getting healed and forgiving and seeking forgiveness as quickly as I can, from the code of one of the greatest mystics of our time. For more on the mystic, you’d have to read my first post, and if you do know the link on sunflowers and Padre Pio, please by all means, as that’s for another friend.
But, the real meaning behind this post was because, years ago, after this work situation, after being a binge drinker and crashing into a table one night before a family wedding, my oldest cousin who was getting married for the 2nd time after having a baby with her now husband and having recovered from drug addiction. It was not that reason for what was going to be the cause of lots of complaining from judgmental and opinionated, maternal aunts, mostly just two, who I can only pray for, but that it was a bi-racial wedding. Which doesn’t make any sense, at all. I really had scared my parents. And it wasn’t just the wedding, my Mom was still dealing with cancer, well recovery now (Thanks to God!), with one more surgery to go. And I had no job. Our family goes way back with a walking saint, a prison chaplain, a minister to the homeless and one who has literally nothing- he gives everything away to others. When my Mom and her family met him, he was a seminarian, assigned to their family church across the street. So, he performs everything,from weddings, to baptisms of all the grandchildren. Now, its weddings of grandchildren and baptisms of great-grandchildren. The last thing he presided over for our family was this past June, my grandmothers funeral. But, he also helped those in our family in moments of crisis, an aunt (a judgmental one), the cousin whose wedding he presided and that night as he went to leave I knew I needed help, and he gave me his number. It took being drunk to call him and a couple weeks, but I did. And I owe him my life (side note: because I’ve been up all night, trying to type this and figure what to say, I just remember, he gave me his favorite prayer, because I’m such a worrier. I have it in my old wallet, as he will be a saint, but it was his favorite! And, I don’t recall what it was, but it was a St. Anthony one...I will have to go find it now to see, how odd, yet, not).
And who he has brought in it, including a woman, a convert who was an atheist who became pious, way more than a girl educated in the Catholic School Systems her whole life that took me randomly one day to a festival, a celebration honoring St. Anthony of Padua’s Feast Day, in which I went to humor her. But, my gosh I fell in love! And that became my new home, my sanctuary, my resting place. I love all the friars, I love the grounds and it is truly a place of miracles. You can’t belong to a shrine, but I go regularly, a two hour drive because it’s my church family. And I could go on about so many wonderful, miraculous things that happened. But, I can easily tell you my first miracle, it was hearing the voice of, what do you call it, a lector, music minister? Most churches have okay music, though I’ve found exceptional ones in the last few years! Exceptional! And it makes a big difference. If you’re in the states and go to Steubenville Conferences, the Franciscan University, how can one not appreciate Bob Rice, or Dr. Bob Rice, as he is known now? If the speaker list doesn’t entice you, his music will! But, at this place, there was the heavenly woman who stood up with a guitar and belted out songs...and I had never heard anything like it. And that is why I bothered returning. She’s more than that...her resume is remarkable. I think she can play anything! She teaches music, she is a dialect coach, she gets involved in producing plays, or the actors, to being in shows herself. I have a special name for her, which I won’t say, as everyone know’s that’s what I call her. So, if someone did get on here, they couldn’t know it was me posting, as I don’t know if this is supposed to be out of the bag, or what. But, I bought her CD’s, and I finally had to look her up and I sent her an e-mail to let her know just how phenomenal she was. It’s funny how the world of computers work, nowadays we have to worry about cyber bullying, but when I was young and computers were first starting to get into people’s home, with dial-up, I met one of my dearest friends that way. I had a love for musical theatre from my Grandmother, who took me to my first live show, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but had me watching classics when I was a toddler from My Fair Lady to Camelot. In middle school, while watching an Andrew Lloyd Weber Special, I fell head over heels for a UK singer, tracked him down as nothing was available in the states, joined a fan club, some mailing list that was too overwhelming to check and had to order everything overseas. Then one random day, I learn that very singer, the one whose head was imprinted on my pillow sheet, was coming to the states, and to my state and some woman got me in to the Public Television pledge thing, with the next day, this woman who was sending all these messages from the mailing list contacted me, an energetic woman from WA state who held get togethers in NYC every year for American fans, but come to find out she was my grandmothers age! But, it didn’t matter, because she loved what I did, and we began to e-mail multiple times a day and would mail each other playbills and when she got the chance she’d call on a special Sunday she was headed to Seattle to see a how (when cell phones costs extra to call half way across the country). She became one of my best friends. And my parents, as skeptical as they are, were in complete agreement to go to the gathering that following August in NYC, along with my grandmother, to celebrate our favorite singer, see shows, meet up with actors she supported-particularly one young man who I still support to this day in her honor and because he has talent and be friends, be present to one another in person. And the years that followed. Until she passed away, Valentine’s Day, 2005- which was fitting, as if anyone departed on a day of love, it would have been her. I took it not so well, didn’t listen to anything, didn’t want to see shows at the theatre, etc., until the angelic voice at the friary. She brought back the gift of music, and now look, as you’ll see post above (which that is much shorter than this turned out, so answer if you have a slight clue where to find the info, please!), while I’m no singer, or I don’t play a guitar, I now have another friend who wrote a musical that is brilliant, I’m helping as best I can to promote and market that and she is the one I knew to go to for direction on anything! And, I pledge a loyalty to this amazing talent, to do whatever I can, though I don’t know yet what that is, as so much is being dumped on...and yes, selfishly, I need her music, especially now, too.
Things change, I get that. Friars leave on new assignments, but some you cannot part with. One friar, I keep track of, though he doesn’t communicate through e-mail or computer and he is serving in a Spanish parish. We called him Padre Pio II. But he always has a place in my heart. And, this summer, a blow came when the Director, who as long as I’ve known about the friary, has been there, announced a big promotion- meaning he was leaving his post, though his new residence was just down the street, he’d be traveling. And that was hard to swallow, but I did. And he’s come back, and I keep tabs on where he’s at. A new director came in, and I grew to like him, was impressed by him, then went to a seminar, mini-retreat and did not like him, did not like his answers and refused to return. But I apologized, I did a Holy Hour and I did my best to make amends as he does do things that seem special, even humble. And I misunderstood the message, especially at the time I’m going through, it was not the time to go to such a lecture/teaching when you have a sick friend. And he was off the list, but in finally getting to this angelic voice and e-mailing her as she should be out there more, she’s super talented! I casually said something about her meeting with the new director and sarcastically said I hope this doesn’t mean you’re cut back any...but she is going to be. In a tiny chapel, this director, who has already brought changes that I don’t know if people do or do not like, depends on if they are a “regular” or a “pilgrim,” he wants to fit in an organ and a choir because it’s his dream. The faithful friar is young, and has well-meaning wishes, ambitious and wonderful ideas, tremendous devotions and even more than that to offer. But, if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. And if it is his dream, not the dream of the others who buy her records in the gift shop, who cry at the staple song she sings on Good Friday, to thanking her after a mass she’s played at- how can he be shepherding a flock through his dream, and not through the message of the faithful Franciscan, St. Anthony? This is someone who gives hope and peace, plus comfort, not to mention stories of Jesus from her own written songs to those who flock to the sacred shrine. This is more than just my first miracle of the shrine, this is the friary experience!
I am not sure on miracles today, I’m doubting Thomas, I’m the lost sheep, I’m the Prodigal son. But, I know this beloved shrine is in part beloved because of this woman’s music, and her heart. And in somehow trying to think how to link all this together, actually I believe I can, all of it, even the story on my sick friend. A homily I will never forget happened on one feast day celebration for St. Anthony, by my dear friar now somewhere else, who I said we called Padre Pio II. In saying, the importance of St. Anthony and what he meant, he told those in the church that whenever a problem arose, “Go to Anthony.” Because in his work, he was not just a Franciscan, teacher, preacher but he became a saint for the lost, a saint of miracles because of companionship. In each story I told, I found companionship, different places, at different times, always in a time of need. St. Anthony, as Padre Pio II said that day, and I’m butchering it, told us we should imagine what it is like to be the great pain, in tremendous suffering, to be at our loneliest and when we did to remember St. Anthony, because he was the ultimate companion, and always, no matter what the problem to remember to “Go to Anthony.”
If, you could pray for a miracle, to St. Anthony, or St. Francis of Assisi, or St. Cecelia (patron of musicians, arts, etc.), please do so, if you have a love of either 3, or for any saint you do have a love for, especially one that is also Franciscan- St. Therese, St. Claire (she’s the patron of TV, and gosh, that’s where this woman needs to be!), to my other saint who I send my guardian angel up to every day lately, Padre Pio. If you wish to support the work of this phenomenal woman, I am anonymous, and you came across her, and you can order a CD, or other product through her website.
If, I don’t know how this will work, but I just gave her website, so you can now tell what St. Anthony’s Shrine is being referred, but if this site works as intended, and I’m relying on St. Anthony and the Holy Spirit. So, with faith, with faith this long message is read, if anyone wishes to write a note, without mentioning the woman who’s site I linked, or that this plan is happening, this post, etc. Well, if you write it, I imagine you know what to do, but it would be addressed to The Shrine of Saint Anthony, c/o Director of the Shrine (you can look up as I can’t put name, first page of website, but don’t use email, that goes to office staff), address (bottom of the page).
She’s too important to lose...no organ or choir, or fancy thing can replace the love of music, ministry and faith she has in heart.
“The wisdom of God is reflected in the face of the soul: she will see God as he is, and she will know as she is known.”~St. Anthony of Padua, from Sermons of Saint Anthony of Padua
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I know it’s Advent, and she does have a GREAT Christmas CD, Come to the Stable, but as in the post above, this Good Friday classic, Eyes, gets everyone every time- which is also available through website, on the CD, Love Makes Room. Or, at the very least, though not updated (but I’m trying to help with that when I get the time, hopefully, after Christmas!), subscribe to her YouTube channel! God Bless all who read this!
#franciscan#thirdorderfranciscan#stanthonyandthedonkey#stanthony#patronofthelost#patronofmiracles#musicsupport#messengerangel#stanthonyofpadua#savetheheavenlymusic#angelicmusic#carmelite#our lady of the angels#st.therese#stclaire#stcecilia#padrepio#petitioneroffaith#petitioner#comeholyspirit#friarmusic#angelofsong#angel of music
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Pay to Not Go to College!
Yes, you read that title right! For a small combined fee of roughly $12,900, you can receive a PhD in your desired field of study with supporting documentation, a thesis you didn't have to write yourself, traditional graduation attire, legal notarization, and a half dozen lies regarding your accomplishments within your university! You even get to pick your own grade! Who knew the answer to our higher education needs was a website that only charges a nominal fee for you to not have to waste those precious years of your life AND not land your dream job afterward? I've been putting this coverage off for way too long. One day at work, out of curiosity, I decided to search around the ol' interwebs and see if I could find a service dedicated to providing individuals with college degrees. It wasn't a hard search. There are several of these services as it turns out, but I'm going to be focusing on one today for the sake of this not dragging on any longer than necessary. I'm still learning about the dos and do nots when it comes to journalism of this nature, so in an effort not to get sued, I'm going to refrain from giving out the name of the website. Obviously I don't want to advertise this service and be responsible for innocent or curious people losing their money. I also don't want to land myself in any sort of legal trouble for name dropping and getting slapped with some sort of law suit. I will, however, be sharing screenshots where applicable, so don't you worry! The biggest surprise without even looking at the degree ordering process is that the website is designed fairly well. It's inviting and pleasing to the eye with its mixture of blues and grays. Then we look at the text and realize that someone's trying to sucker us out of a lot of money.
From what I hear, though, programming a website is hard and spaces between the end of a word and a comma are pretty easy mistakes to let slip through the cracks , so let's give them the benefit of the doubt. The website has a bunch of sections on it and I intend to share the fun bits of it later, but I know what you're here for. You want your PhD in Chemistry or Biology, or maybe you need a Master's in Engineering or Dance. Don't worry, fam, I'm going to hook you up at least with a price point so you can start saving up. I'm going for the PhD in Creative Writing myself. Unsurprisingly, the first few things it asks you for is boring information like your name, birth date, and title. Then it goes ahead and boldly asks for a scanned copy of either your government I.D./Driver's License or Passport. Then email address, blah blah blah, phone number, alright, onto the next section, and this is where the fun begins.
As you can see, my PhD in Creative Writing will be issued to me, Mr. Blogger Dude for the year of 2018, graduated in the season of summer. I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who got me to this point. Good job, me. And look at that, only $490, how convenient! You also have the option to select if you were studying full time, part time, at a distance, online, or in a combination of those! It's going past this point that you realize this ordering process has zero chill. Before you've even completely decided on all the additional things you want to pay for that you're probably never going to be able to use, this section comes careening up at you:
Why yes, strange website, I would love to give you my credit card information and my billing address. I can't possibly see how this could go wrong in any way, shape, or form. I don't actually have a credit card, at least not with the kind of limit we're going to be seeing, so I suppose this is the end of my college degree journey. If only I had thousands of dollars just laying around in the bank. Darn, oh well.
Following that is the section entitled
Transcripts & Degree Related Items
, a series of boxes you can put a check next to if you decide the item in question is something you'll want, and this is how it goes:
Academic Transcripts - $200 (Can select quantity)
Sealed Transcripts - $200 (Can select quantity)
Student Records - $200
Acceptance Letter - $120
Graduation Letter - $120
Reference Letter (Up to three) - $200/reference letter
Letter of Appreciation - $120 (Have the university lie about things you did for them)
Internship Letter from Company - $250 (Nobody follows up with these anyway, right?)
Internship Letter from University - $250
Write Your Own Thesis - $1,500 (At least you tried)
Have Someone Else Write Your Thesis - $4,500 (You did not try)
University Diploma Folder - $135
Graduation Hood - $150
Graduation Cap - $150
Graduation Gown/Robe - $550
Certified Copies of University Degree - $200 (Can select quantity)
Lawyer Certification and Legalization - $450
Government Apostille - $800 (I had to look up what that meant, this is what I found: "Apostilles authenticate the seals and signatures of officials on public documents such as birth certificates, court orders, or any other document issued by a public authority so that they can be recognized in foreign countries that are members of the 1961 Hague Convention Treaty.")
Embassy Legalization - $2050 (Looked this one up as well: "Embassy / Consulate Legalization. ... Documents certified by the State and destined for countries who are not members of the Hague Apostille Convention require State certification, U.S. Department of State certification, and Embassy or Consulate legalization.")
Student I.D. Card - $250 (I had to look... just kidding)
University Alumni Card - $250
University Library Card - $250
Student Union Card/Student Association Card
After we've picked out all of the things we need, the last thing we have to do is pick our shipping options. Standard shipping is free and usually ships within five business days, but I'm impatient and can't afford to wait that long. I mean, I am buying a fake degree online rather than earning a real one... online. Or on a campus, but who does that anymore? Express shipping it is! It's only an additional $135 on top of the ten grand, nothing too outrageous. As for our shipping method, we have two choices: Express Air Mail, or DHL/FedEx for ground. Planes can crash and burn and lose all of my documentation, so I think I'll play it safe and go FedEx for only $130. Express Air Mail is a little cheaper at $95, but an extra $35 for peace of mind never hurt anybody.
The website then proceeds to ask how we heard about them. It was pretty easy for me: Google. I assume it'll be the same for you. As an aside, there's also an option for Yahoo for the one person out there still using it. Next we input any special instructions we may have.
I probably should have added please, but this is a business transaction after all. Then we subsequently fuck ourselves over by not reading the terms of service before accepting them, make sure our total is correct, and submit our order!
Looks right to me.
I love that you can adjust the amount with the small arrows beside the total amount. I left them a tip. It's at this point that I would submit the order, wait about a week, and show the finished product. Shocking as it may seem, though, I do not have $12,905 to give them. Such a tease, I know. Now I could save myself $3,000 by writing my own thesis, but we mustn't forget that I'm a busy adult man who cannot spare the time to college, so I definitely wouldn't have the time to write a brilliant thesis. One day I'll have a money. One day. Something that should be noted is that there is no indication on the website as to which university will be giving you your degree, but their section on Full Privacy and Satisfaction serves to definitively quell those voices in your mind that want to call BS. "When you choose a bachelor degree from us and you make the payment, you will receive an accredited degree from a reputable university. The degrees are legal and verifiable; nobody will know our little secret that you obtained your degree online. We do not disclose information about yourself to third parties and we keep private the name of the universities from which we confer degrees. You will not know the name of the university until you receive the degree. We believe confidentiality is essential in our business and we encourage you to keep it secret that you obtained the degree online in exchange of a fee. When you choose degree online course we accept payments and shipment from all over the world, because we are affiliated with universities in every country. We have bachelor degree online course waiting for you to attend them. You will be enrolled in the online program and you will get the degree in a week from the moment you made the order. We are strict with deadlines and we fulfill all your requirements. We believe that the satisfaction of the clients is essential in our business and this is why we want to offer you joy so you will come back for more. If you choose a degree course from us you will get many job offers and promotions, so you will be happy you have chosen us." Peace of mind and assurance are wonderful things. There are a few other interesting tidbits on the website such as generic images of individuals of Asian descent posing in awkward ways, a live chat functionality that I may play with in my own spare time, degree options from multiple contents such as North America, South America, Africa, Asia, Eastern Europe, Western Europe, and my personal favorite, the Middle East. There's a coaching section of how to find a job after you've received your degree that is a rehash of every search you've ever done on how to do well in an interview. "You have to tell the interviewer about your degrees, knowledge, skills, and vast experience in the field. You should convince the employer that your knowledge and experience will benefit the company and that you have solutions for the existing problems of the company in order to help the company achieve its goals. Choose the domains of activity at which you are the best and to impress the employers with your expertise, skills and knowledge in their field of activity. Companies have job openings because they have a hole in the functioning of their business and you have to fill the hole. You should be the perfect solution to their needs and you should be able to sell your skills during the interview in order to persuade them you will find solutions to the problems of the company. The best way to find a job is to prove that you have a degree from an accredited university because employers look for persons with plenty of knowledge in their field of activity. Use nonverbal communication during interviews. Use your emotional intelligence in order to pass over emotions and use your body language to show you are attentive, confident and competent for the job. You should maintain eye contact and smile often. A sincere smile makes the interviewer believe that you are comfortable and that you are a sociable and friendly person. Be communicative during interviews if you want to get the attention of the interviewers and persuade him or her to offer you the job. Create a good CV and resume speaking about the experience, education, skills and certifications you have. You should write a resume in which to write about what recommends you for the job. You should write a story about yourself that proves your skills and knowledge in the field of activity of the company. Prove passion for the field of activity in which you want to work. Prove that you have a specific interest in the company and a passion in what you do. . Consider an interview as a sales presentation in which you have to present your strengths, hide your weaknesses in order to attract the interviewer and get the job." It's actually so nice they had to say it twice in another area of the website, and there's this little gem that DEFINITELY puts any apprehensions, hesitations, or mental protestations to rest!
I, for one, am very glad that no one shall be able to see my payment information, as they will face consequences under provision of law. What law? Law. THE law. You can learn all about it once you obtain your own law degree from the website. I suppose I should throw in a quick disclaimer here for the two people who may be willing to go out and try this for themselves: Don't. College degrees are serious business, and I'm pretty sure this is illegal in some way, shape, or form. Don't go around giving shady websites your credit card information, and look into legitimate options when it comes to pursuing a higher education. All of that being said, thank you for taking this journey with me. It had its ups and downs, but I am definitely excited to be Dr. Mr. Blogger Dude, Creative Writing expert. Thank you.
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