#thank god for my student services counselor

[wyrm-with-a-why]

Me when the stress is finally decreasing so all I have to do is my test next period then when I go home after the next two periods I just put in what electives I’m going to take then relax and be happy :3

[gayerthanevertbh]

say your prayers - four.

pairings | dark!priestess!natasha x fem!reader

your school have church service once a week. of course, as a good little schoolgirl you are, you attend to it. which means you always have to see your priestess, natasha, who you are secretly infatuated with. until there was an unexpected turn that made you feel something else other than good. but maybe, even better.

warnings | smut/dark taboo themes - 18+ MINORS DNI! religious themes, blasphemy of religion, sacrilegious acts, sex with a priestess, rough sex, breeding kink, strap-on (used), oral sex (n receives), mommy kink, dirty talking, pet names, slut shaming, and more.

notes | i’m sorry if this took a while to update, i have more energy to write now! to your requests, i’ll be doing them as soon as i wake up. thank you so much!

navigation | series masterlist

“Make yourself comfortable,” says Mrs. Johnson, and sits down across from me with a nonchalant look. I looked around at my surroundings and realized how frightened and intimidated I was by the spacious area–which was weird since I like being in a big room. Either way, I felt nervous as well. Sweaty, if I may add. The thought of Mrs. Johnson knowing my affair with my priestess could cause a lot of trouble, especially for the older woman who has done nothing wrong but love me. I know that, or do I?

I sat down on the checkered chair and closed my legs together with a fearful look on my face; hoping that it was not as evident as it seems. There was a brief silence until I heard her speaking: “I heard from Mrs. Humpston that you’ve been failing her class, when in fact it’s one of your strengths. Literature, how are you failing that class, Ms. Rogers?”

I didn’t even know that I was flunking Mrs. Humpston’s class, I had no idea that my eyes widened with what she had told me. Knowing myself, I ace Literature. It’s one of the classes that I rarely fail on, and now I’m just as curious as my principal who had a skeptical calm look on her face. Although I could tell how disappointed she was, I was one of her best students in this god damn school. It took me a while to figure it all out until I realized that I’d been spending so much time with Mother Natasha that I don’t even care about my education anymore. The feeling and thought of just dropping out crossed my mind, but then I suddenly don’t want to flunk out of school anymore. Maybe I was distracted; stressed, perhaps.

“Mrs. Johnson, I’m very sorry.”

“I just want to know what has been going on with you,” she sighs and clasped her fists together on the desk. “That’s all. You’re my best student, Y/N. This has been going on for a month, you recently failed her quiz and your exam.”

Fuck, shit, oh my god.

She asked, “Have you been talking to a boy? You know that’s not allowed in the school district.”

“No!” I exclaimed, defending myself, and sat back on my chair while fidgeting with my fingertips. If she knew about my affair, even the tiniest bit, my life would be over. “I-I mean, I’ve been going through a lot recently and I honestly can admit that I’ve been distracted. I’m sorry again, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Is there something I can do to help?” She asked, but with a concerned look on her face that I honestly don’t want to see. I hate it when people pity me, I do. She waves her hands in the air. “I could schedule you with our school counselor, Mrs. Regene, or perhaps Mother Natasha so that they can help you with what you’re going through. If you ask me, I would much prefer Mother Natasha since she has empathy.”

My whole body was suddenly relieved with joy when I heard her say Natasha’s name. I imagine going to Mother Natasha’s chapel and asking for her advice. She, of course, would kiss me and make me forget everything–which is something I would want and what I would need. I was desperate for it like a cat in heat who won’t stop meowing with the urge of being fucked. Have I become this not-so-innocent little girl anymore because of her? I probably do like it.

“I think I’ll be more comfortable talking to Mother Natasha about my problems,” I say, trying to sound casual and not desperate. “If you don’t mind, of course. I promise I’ll do better this time, I won’t let you down, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Then it’s settled!” she exclaims with a clap in her hands, standing up and marching to the door to open it for me. “I will be seeing you again next week, Y/N. I pray that the Lord shall give you wisdom and strength throughout your life.”

And with that, I walked out with a small smile on my face–acting like a deviant little bitch.

When I came back to my dorm, Wanda was there with two books on my bed and crumpled hair that was tied up in a bun. I still wonder how she gets in, maybe she was given a key? Impossible, there’s a thing called privacy.

“How did you get in here?”

“I have a hairpin.”

“You do know I hate it whenever you do that,” I say with a grumble under my breath as I gently throw my bag across the room. I sat down beside her and yawned, “Mother Natasha will be my counselor for a while until I get my shit together.” I wasn’t as nervous as before, it’s probably because I have nothing else to fear. If my relationship with Mother Natasha goes on for a while, I might even tell Wanda about it. But knowing her, she’d freak out.

She scrunches her face as if disgusted and asked with a painful tone in her voice, “And you never bothered telling me?”

Shit, I thought. I shouldn’t have said anything, of course, she’ll be offended.

“Y/N?” she calls out my name as the silence crept on us, I felt my whole blood system turning cold; my face becoming paler.

“I, well… I was going to,” I say with a nervous laugh, I bit my lower lip and looked away from her eyes as they intimidated me. “I really was. But you would react so badly to it that I feel like–”

“But I’m your best friend!” she answers with a slightly higher voice that honestly makes me flinch. She added with her eyes piercing at me, “I thought we said we don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“And I do know that, Wanda–”

“No you don’t,” she says with a hurtful look on her face. “Y-You don’t. You’ve been acting weird for a whole month and I keep asking you if you were okay, if you needed help but–you never said anything! What, have I become the worst friend you’ve ever had? Do you have someone else in your life? What is something you want that I don’t have?”

“Now you’re acting like you’re in love with me.”

She scoffs at me, and she usually never does. And this is where I realize how I have become a jerk toward her, I deeply do regret saying that. I knew she wasn’t in love with me, I just didn’t know what else to say. I had to protect Mother Natasha and myself, of course. She bites her lower lip angrily and mutters, “You are fucked in the head, Y/N. I can’t believe you’d fucking say that.”

I watch as she grabs her books and walks out of my room with a loud slam of the door, everyone could’ve possibly heard it. I wanted to go after her and ask for her forgiveness, but my body couldn’t even move. I felt frozen, stuck, and angry with myself. But if I had to be honest, I couldn’t care less either. As long as Mother Natasha was around, I felt like my whole world revolved around her. As she once said: you should always be thinking about me just as much as I think about you and I will never forget that. It’s ingrained in my brain like how you write a beautiful poem, you could barely understand it.

                                                       —

Around six o'clock in the evening, Mother Natasha was waiting behind the building with her black car. She told me to walk out quietly and never look back since it could get me anxious. I did what she has told me and surprisingly–I have gotten out of the district with a small tote bag slung on my shoulders that has my spare clothes in it. I got inside of the front seat and kissed her cheek which led me to her lips, she was excited as I am.

“You’re here,” she breathes out as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. “I’m so fucking happy that you’re here. Let’s go, yeah? My house isn’t that far from here.”

I nodded and put on my seatbelt as she drove away from the school, making my heart beat a thousand times faster. It almost made me think that I was going to have a heart attack, but that felt exaggerated. I looked out of the window while I felt her hand grazing against my school skirt, talking about how excited she was to bring me home. Would it be safe to say that I was at least nervous? Although people could say it’s normal since it’s your first time going to your partner’s home, I was hoping for something sentimental to happen later other than just fucking each other’s brains out.

Her house looked very lonely. I might’ve guessed that she had a kid or a husband, but she explained all the way that she isn’t married nor had a child. I remember myself asking: would you ever want one? I could hear her faint chuckle as she replied with a sultry voice that she wanted one with me. It seemed impossible for that to happen unless there was a donor. Anyway, I looked around and saw the kitchen by my right, then the living room once you walk passed by the kitchen. I saw her retro record player that was beside the big television screen and some of the record albums were under the tall long oak shelf.

“You have a nice home,” I say as I couldn’t remove my eyes from the magazines on the table. They were pornographic, it made me feel a little surprised. “Have you ever thought of a roomie that could live with you? Your house is pretty big.”

“I thought about it,” she responded with a sigh while my back was facing her. “But I like living on my own, well… liked. I can kind of imagine you living here with me, you know?”

“You think we could?”

“Anything’s possible, my child.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” I asked curtly; which I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to know and see how she’ll react to that situation. It couldn’t be now, but it could be later as our relationship grows.

“I am,” Mother Natasha wraps her arm around my shoulder as she brings me in for a peck on my forehead; I sighed happily once she has kissed my skin. “But don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Just do what I say.”

“Aren’t I doing a good job of obeying you?”

Now she was giving me a smirk, a sexual-looking smirk where she imagines me being on my knees as I suck her vagina. She leans against my lips and kisses me passionately with her sucking on my bottom lip for need. I let her kiss me hard and soft, I let her control me. I felt her whispering in my mouth, “You like it here?”

“Uh-huh,” I nodded and began to fiddle with the belt of her pants, trying to get her animalistic self out of the box. “Natasha–”

“You’re forgetting your manners,” she says while pinning me against the wall near the stairs; her hips thrusting up against my core that I moaned. “You’re my good little schoolgirl, isn’t that right baby?”

I nodded again and felt her lips attached to my collarbone while her hands were groping my breasts gently with care.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “I love you, Mother Natasha. I want you so much–”

“Shh,” she presses her thumb against my lips and slides it down to my chin; her lips are now kissing my jaw. “I love you too, baby. You have no idea how much I love you.”

Was she lying? Was she trying to maneuver me into having sex with her again? Not that I was complaining, but I needed her to mean it. I was going to ask if she meant it but instead, her lips were such a distraction for my mind. She brings my waist closer to her as she tries to ground her hips against my core with a cry of desperation, her face is now buried into my neck. Not even blinking an eye, I was brought inside of her room and I realized how much I fucking wanted her to make love to me. I wanted everything that she wanted, maybe I was that obsessed.

“Lay back pretty girl.” Mother Natasha smirked and I sprawled my back against her soft covers, feeling myself already. She smiles down at me and kisses me for one last time before she goes to the other room, leaving me completely bothered. I waited for a minute, then a two until I was a whining mess. I called for her and moaned her name, but she wasn’t coming out. Was this woman teasing me?

Five minutes later, she comes back with her nude body and a strap-on that was dangling between her legs. I lifted my head up with a shocked face, the faux dick was even bigger than I saw when she put it inside of me for the first time. This time, it was longer and girthier. I clenched my legs in response–she smirks.

“Are you scared?”

I shake my head slowly, gulping a lump down my throat.

“No, Mommy.”

She pushes my legs open with her knees and leans down to kiss my lips, this time it was more searing and wet. “Get naked for me, sweetheart. Lemme get a taste from your pussy.”

Immediately, I obeyed. Natasha pulls herself up and watches intently as I remove my school blouse, leaving my white cotton bra and skirt on. She looked down at my cleavage and I could see how her mouth was foaming with arousal, the thought of her mouth licking my nipples got her head all fuzzy and dazed. I tried to be flirtatious so I slowly–leisurely–removed my bra with my perked nipples that hit the cold air as I gasped out quietly, she was staring into them like it was the first time.

“D-Do you like my boobs, Mommy?” I asked with a teasing voice, curling a smile on the side of my face; she nods viciously.

“Yeah, baby. I do.”

I pushed my breasts to give her a little show, and she was rolling her eyes in the back of her head–sinking that memory inside of her until it eats her up. My eyes were glued to her hand that was playing with her right breast, squeezing them while I kept teasing her with my boobs. I was never an expert when it came to being a flirtatious and teasing woman, I just learned it from her and used my own instincts. After a while, she tells me to stop and I dropped my hands below my thighs; staring up at her innocently.

“You’re so cute,” she coos and brings her thumb to my lips again and pushes it slowly until I’m sucking her whole thumb–pulling it out with a loud sucking noise that gets Natasha rolling her hips down onto the mattress. “F-Fuck, you like that don’t you? You’re so pretty, so beautiful for me…”

“I want you to fuck me, Mommy,” I say with a moan that vibrates her thumb; she halts and grabs my hair with one hand and pulls it down to expose more of my neck. I hissed in reply and was about to whine when she whispered: “I’m going to make you cock-dumb once I rip your insides with no permission, do you understand me? I owe you. You don’t get to fucking say that to me, do you understand little girl?”

“Yes!” I didn’t have enough time to say something before she pushed me back to the mattress where she had her nose running up against my cheeks, smelling me with her hand on my neck. I felt her giving open mouth kisses on my shoulders, then to my lips as I felt the tip of her cock prodding against my covered clit. She hikes up my skirt and pulls down my panties which made me let out a loud cry, I don’t know what kind of cry was. But I was so insatiable, aroused, and incredibly desperate when it came to her.

“Beg me to fuck you,” she purrs, the way she commands me to tell that to her gets my cunt wetter than before. I was practically humping the air for her touch, at least her dick inside of me. “Come on baby, tell Mommy you want her to fuck you.”

“Please fuck me,” I choked out, looking at her lips instead of the darker shade of eyes. “P-Please, Mommy? I’ll be such a good girl–I promise! Just please put it inside of me…”

“Shh,” she closes her lips against mine and kisses me passionately just like she always does. I felt her tongue lapping against my bottom lip for access, so I let her, and my god it was heaven on earth. She grips both of my hips hard and whispers roughly: “I’m gonna have to stretch that tiny cunt…Mmph, you’re so fucking sexy.”

I could hear her panting hard when she finally pushed half of her length inside of me, both of her hands were still gripping my hips like a possessed woman. My throat felt so dry from all the whining and screaming that I let out the tiniest moan when I felt her dick. She kisses my chin and pulls out, then pushes the cock inside of me again with much force.

“I-It’s too big, I can’t take it!”

“Baby you can,” she coos again and cups my right cheek with a short faint smile on her face; reassuring me that nothing will go wrong. “Oh fuck, you can take that all inside of you, eh? What a little slut you are for me, so pretty…”

A wet patch was starting to form underneath my butt as her hips never came down. She was thrusting inside of me like it was the last time, her chest heaving and starting to become red. Her eyebrows scrunched when her eyes drifted away from my face and instead stared down at my breasts that were bouncing rhythmically with her hips that snapped back each time I moaned. She wasn’t keeping a slow pace, she was hard and fast–just like always. I could hear her quiet growls and pants, as she slams into me each time.

“What do you think the Lord would say if he’s here right now, watching you fall apart because of me?” she slurs in my ear, bottoming out in a grinding matter. “He would think how pathetic you are, how you are easily manipulated by your priestess. Tell me, would you let me touch you if I hurt you?”

That was no longer a hesitation; I nodded.

“Yes, Mommy…” I whispered with a mewl, arching my hips to meet hers. “I don’t care if he sees me like this–Jus’ wanna be a good girl for you…”

“You���re going to be my good little girl once I get you pregnant,” she husks and drives the faux cock back inside of me with a loud smack of my ass that hits against her thighs, filling the room with the sound of our fucking. “Ya like that, baby? Do you want Mommy to knock you up?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Fuck,” Natasha buries her head on my neck and starts moaning widely, her cock moving inside of me roughly as our hips are pressed to each other. The bed was creaking loudly, I wondered if anyone would hear us at all. I started to moan like a whore in heat when she tweaks my nipples with her right hand, whispering you’re such a slut wraps around my head and my soul. “I’m going to send you home to your parents like a beaten-up child. They’re going to see how much of a slut you are for me, how in love you are with me even though I can be a dangerous woman.”

I hardly believe she could hurt me, but this would be the time that I’d feel scared. But I wasn’t scared, I was far more than scared. It felt thrilling to see how far she could go, how she could use my body for her pleasure. It’s like I’m submitting myself to her, and I'd gladly do it.

“I’m going to bruise your pretty body, my child. I’m going to make you my little slut who only deserves to be fucked like one.” her hips were now pummeling inside of me as she crept her hand to my throat, gripping it and pushing me down while she handled me like a man. I was close to my climax, so my walls were starting to grip her length tightly–of course, she felt that and gave me a wider evil smile.

“You gonna cum, aren’t ya?” she chuckles darkly and spits onto my face, making me shut my eyes. “That’s it, now you are my certified slut. Cum for me, baby. Cum for your Mommy.”

The constant movements of her hips made my back arch and let out a strangled moan that broke my throat painfully. She scoops my back and kisses my chest lovingly, purring out my name while her hips gradually hump my core. My arms clung to her as I shook my body with the immense pleasure that has overtaken me. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t even breathe. I could see the white stars that were glimmering in the back of my eyes and I could only remember my body falling apart with how used and corrupted it was from her.

“Baby,” she calls out my name, peppering kisses on my neck. “Don’t pass out on me yet, I need you to suck me. Come on, do it for Mommy.”

I lick her folds with my eyes glued to her heaving chest, her hand tangled up in her red hair as she moans out my name twice or thrice. My lips were attached to her clit and continuously flicked it with my tongue, trying to see if she was getting any pleasure from it. She looks down at me and thrust her hips up to meet with my mouth; all I could remember was her growls.

“You like going down on me, huh?” she bites her lower lip to control her possessive self, not wanting to hurt me. But she had her other hand on the back of my head as she pressed me down on her. “Fucking eat me like it’s your last supper, little girl. God, I love you so much…”

I loved it when she talked to me like that, how she could just handle me like some sad girl. She treated me the way no one else can, I mean, who else would treat me like this? Natasha was my first in every situation I was in, even with love. Every time we would have sex, she would kiss me like singing a lullaby telling me how important I was to her. But the thought of her saying this possibly to anyone else was swirling in my head crazily like it just couldn’t stop messing with me. I felt her clit nudging against the tip of my tongue and I continued to lap on her cunt, licking in between her folds.

“I’m going to cum so hard inside of your mouth,” she growls and I let my tongue sink into her hole where she felt incredibly tight but loose at the same time. I thrust my tongue once or thrice, earning another guttural moan from her. “Fuck, I’m going to make you my breeding bitch!”

You’re such a good girl, my child. I can’t wait to ravish you all night.

And that’s what we did the whole time I was there, letting her experience hands continue to touch my bare skin with her choice of words that gets my whole system to act up again. Her tongue, fingers, and body were all over me like it was a life sentence. She fucked me hard, made love to me, and even made me pray while she played with my walls with her faux dick inside of me. The sheets were soaked in our cum and juices, my body was full of purple marks that were created by her. I was infatuated, in love, or whatever else you could say in a relationship.

“I’m in love with you,” she whispers to my wet ear while she had her arms wrapped around my lower waist; her cock slowly thrusting up inside of my velvety walls. “I’m so in love with you, I can never let you go. Please, don't let me go.”

I made a promise to her that night.

                                                        —

Natasha drove me back to the campus with a satisfied heart. She held my hand while she drove, sometimes kissing my knuckles that would linger there for a minute or two. If you’d ask me how I was feeling, I’d say that I was feeling the depths of the earth. To demonstrate it in an easier way, I was happy. I'm very happy. And she was too, despite her kissing my skin and the smile plastered all over my face that reached to her cheekbones. It wasn’t a long drive back to the campus, so I was a little shocked that we arrived there in less than fifteen minutes.

“Did you have a good time with me, baby?” she asked while unbuckling her seatbelt to wrap her arm around my shoulder; giving my temple a languid kiss.

I nodded sheepishly, it was a little cold this morning. “I really did, I don’t know when we can do this again though.”

“We do have to wait for your semester’s break,” she sighs. “How about this, maybe around the weekend you could spend your time with me? When do your parents usually visit?”

“Only if necessary,” I responded with a tiny voice that could still be hearable. “Maybe they’d pick me up around two weeks, it comes abrupt sometimes.”

I could tell that she was tense a bit, the thought of my parents seeing something so sinful in front of their eyes would ruin their whole reputation–especially Mother Natasha’s since she’s been a priestess ever since she was a younger, so it would be whole chaos. Her arm tightened around me and I felt my head leaning against her chest; smelling that heavy shampoo on her hair.

“We have to schedule it then so that you won’t get caught.”

“That could be arranged.”

“Alright,” she groans and opens the car door for me, pulling my jaw up so she could kiss me one last time. Our kiss went on for thirty seconds, all tongue and smearing our teeth together. She pulls away with a long sigh and whispered: “Think about me while I’m gone, okay little girl?”

“Always, Natty.”

I felt her hand smacking my butt and I let out a soft giggle, closing the car door and watching as it drifted away from me–a sudden drop filled my heart. Anyway, I didn’t waste my time going back to the campus. I was thankful enough that I knew how to unlock doors with a hairpin–all thanks to Wanda–and got inside swiftly with no worries. When I opened my door to my room, I almost dropped my bag on the ground with wide eyes that were about to fill with warm tears. I knew it was a bad idea to get out of the campus in the first place.

“You have some explaining to do, Y/N.”

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[cocochannel00]

Hi, I've been hooked on your posts about internships / music industry. Congratulations btw!! As a person studying a completely unrelated career (law student) I've been struggling to find a start point into the music / entertainmet industry. Could you give me any tips on how you started? And how did you manage to find transferable skills between your current degree and the positions you've been offered? I have so many questions and I'm so lost hahaha. Thanks for your time I really appreciate it.

Oh my god you are literally the sweetest, thank you! As for tips, the first thing you want to start to do is join facebook groups or linkedin groups with industry professionals or students interested in the field so that you can build your network. Entertainment and Music are both businesses that are heavily gate kept based on who you know so starting to connect with peoples is the best places to start. Girl's Behind the Rock Show (insta account and FB group), Color of Music Collective, She is The Music, Girls Who Listen, Women in Music, and All Access Community (Linkedin/Slack group and Insta account) are all great group or accounts to follow to get started with. Most of these host free Professional Panels and post internships/jobs as well which is great!

As for transferable skills, it's all about how you spin a situation. So for example, My major is in a health field so I spend time in hospitals so I usually use it as an example about how I'm good at multitasking, working under pressure, adapting to new situations, problem solving, etc. The best way is to always give an example (sometime you can even stretch the truth a bit- not make it up fully but work a situation to your advantage). A lot of times I don't even mention my major in interviews. I worked as a waitress (still do) for the past 3 years and customer services skills are super super important in music/entertainment because you're constantly dealing with people/clients so if you've ever worked a service job in any capacity (food service, lifeguard, camp counselor, custodial, secretary work, etc) talk about and make sure it's on your resume. Try and keep your experience within the last year or 2 if you can so that your work as well. I hope all of that was helpful and I'm always happy to answer any more questions on that subject if you'd like!!

[unmaskedagain]

Grimm Cleaners: No Questions Asked

I wrote this short story a while ago. I really hope you like it. I took example from my own experience.

The first murder happened on a Monday because of course it fucking would. A new body was found, every day, after that, for two weeks and Todd was sick of it. He didn't know if it was a serial killer, devil worshipers, or fucking Dracula but it was interfering with his social life.

"I don't need this shit! It's my day off." Todd said as he furiously wiped down the blood-splattered table. "Who fucking murders someone in a coffee shop?"

"Quit bitching; you're getting overtime," Sierra said as she mopped the floor. The once white mop-head was already stained pink. And she hadn't even mopped off a quarter of the blood on the floor. "You worked at Walmart for five years. You've seen worse. You've cleaned up worse." Sierra was thin, with big brown eyes and caramel skin. She was fresh out of college and had a look on her face that screamed she was done with the world.

                     The coffee shop was a trendy place called The Coffee Roosters. Vinyl records and 90s cartoon characters decorated the wall. It had a real mom and pop feel and would've passed for one if not for the unicorn cappuccinos, and every drink being written in French. However, that night, it looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. Blood and body parts covered everything. There were symbols painted on the walls, Todd was pretty sure, opened a portal to hell.

                     They had gotten the call just after midnight. The boss wanted all-hands-on-deck. Nevertheless, somehow, all-hands-on-deck meant Todd, Sierra, and the new kid. It was because it was October, Halloween; their busiest time of the year. Everyone worked odd hours. No one else could come in.

"Yeah, and I also got PTSD," Todd retorted. "I can't even watch The Walking Dead without thinking of Black Friday." He rung out his sponge. Todd was grumpy, nearing thirty, a grad student with an arm tattoo of the Deathly Hallows. "All I'm saying is that after seven years of customer service, and 'I wanna speak to the manager,' He mimicked in a high voice "The only murder I should have to clean up in a place where you're forced to smile and say 'how can I help you', is the one that'll happen when I finally snap. Anything else is just rude."

                          Sierra paused, looked around, and brushed back a dyed strand of neon-blue hair. "Yeah, whoever did this didn't work in Customer Service. Only assholes would fuck with someone else's job. This is still better than working the counter at freaking Sephora. Or Best Buy! You know a two-year-old once pissed on the floor, right in front of me, and the Mom was just standing there looking at tablets. Like what the hell?"

"Ah Dude," Christian whined as he ran into the room. He was a tall, lanky, baby-faced, college sophomore with shaggy blond hair and, unlike the other two, still a hopeful outlook on life. "I think I just found some dude's spleen." And sure enough, in his hands were some poor guy's lumbar vertebra. It was gooey with pieces of flesh and muscle still attached to it.

                        There were a few moments of silence. Then Todd just shrugged, "Whatever. Still better than working retail." And went back to work. They didn't have time to waste. The coffee shop opened at sunrise. If this wasn't done, they'd be fired.

                          Sierra murmured her agreement. "At this job, I never have to hear 'Oh it's such a nice day. So sunny and warm. There are rainbows and butterflies and ice cream raining from the sky.' Like I literally haven't been outside in five hours." She dunked the mop in the bucket. "And I don't get to leave this fucking sweatshop of nightmares until it's dark, but thanks for letting me know, Debra."

                          Todd looked up and saw Christian still standing with a grossed-out expression on his face. Then he remembered that the kid hadn't been training long. Christian hadn't gotten any real experience on the job yet, only taught how to do it. Still, the training wheels had to come off sometime. Todd sighed, "Man, just put it with the rest of the body parts. We gotta get out of here before the police get here."

                        Christian nodded and turned around to put the spleen in the other black bags on the counter. "This or Mcdonalds," They heard him tell himself. "I can't go back to ramen every night. I won't go back."

                       Sierra cooed, "Poor guy. Third week of training, and he already found his first body part." She snickered. "I remember mine. I cried for the rest of the night."

                      Todd grimaced, "He'll get used to it." He wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Wait until he realizes he's making enough money to move out of his dorm. He'll be fine with diving in a lake to get the head of a dismembered camp counselor."

                        Sierra nodded, "Yeah, once I realized that paying off my student loans depended on getting a hand out of a crocodile's stomach. I got that hand and a new belt." She bent down to pick up a stray eyeball. "Besides, these customers are the best I've worked with."

"I know, right?" Todd threw up his hands. It was the only part of the job that still remained bizarre to him. "You wouldn't think serial killers or monsters would be. But I'll be damned if they ain't the nicest, most polite people I've ever met. You remember that Hannibal Lector type of guy we worked with last week. Well, at the job, I ended up finding some chick's liver. So I put it in one of those black security boxes and sent it to his place. I figured: hey, maybe the cannibal would want it. Because, you know, 'fava bean and a nice chianti' and all that. The very next day, I get a thank you card."

                        Sierra laughed, "That's nothing! I helped out this Freddy Kruger- rip off, nightmare dude, last year. He was having a hard time tracking down the rest of the people who murdered him. Long story short, I introduce this guy to social media. They were all dead in like a week. I get the best customer review of my life. And I haven't had a bad dream since. How awesome is that?"

                          A scream came from the kitchen, followed up by Christian yelling, "Brain! There's a fucking brain in the freezer. Holy shit. Oh god, oh god." Then the sound of him throwing up.

                          Todd and Sierra shared a look that said 'Trainees, what can you do?'

                        Christian came back into the room, pale-faced, and his shirt covered in puke, "I'm fine," He said. "I just can't get used to this."

"Dude," Sierra said, with a raised eyebrow. "Yesterday, I cleaned up the birth of yet another Rosemary's baby. Demon daddy thanked me for a job well done and tipped me a solid gold brick. Eventually, you get used to everything... well, almost everything." A haunted, faraway look appeared on her face. "Do yourself a favor: never take a job in New Orleans, after New Year's. It's like a vampire free-for-all."

                       Todd nodded. He would never take another job in New Orleans again. Lesson learned. "Man, once you're done cleaning up back there, I need you to start cleaning the ceiling." He pointed up. There were a bunch of satanic symbols and black scorch marks. "Get everything. Boss will freak if a hell portal opened during business hours. Trust me, it won't be easy budgie jumping into the mouth of hell to pick up some poor chick who just wanted a pumpkin spice latte. The paperwork alone is a bitch."

                       It took them hours to get the coffee shop back into the pristine condition it was once in. Afterward, they went out the back, locked up, and got into their black truck. It had no nameplates or any identifiable markers.

"Todd?" Sierra asked from the shotgun seat. "Do you ever wonder who we work for? Who our boss is? Or how they found us?"

"No," Todd said as he pulled the truck out of the dark alley. "I just figured they put spotters in high traffic customer service areas. And whichever employee looks most like they've given up on humanity and one more 'there's no price tag on it, it must be free' joke away from burning down the store, they point at him and say that's our guy."

                   Sierra hooked the aux cord up to her phone, "I think that's the only still scary part. It's like they knew all they had to do was offer us a living wage, and basic human decency, and we'd be theirs. No questions asked."

                Music blasted through the car as the coworkers contemplated the truth of her words.

"Makes you wonder who the real monsters are," Christian said.

[basiccortez]

Defenseless Ch. 1

Synopsis: CJ Jackson, looks like she has it all. Fancy car, fancy house, name  brand clothing. Her parents, top boosters to Beverly, with money to make all sorts of situations go away. As well as the Jackson family looks put together, past secrets haunt them. With the new transfer student catching the eye of CJ Jackson, can old friendships be fixed. Or are somethings just meant to stay broken. "I told you, as long as I live, no one would know."

word count: 3.4k 

pairing: Jordan Baker x OC (CJ Jackson) 

warnings: cursing, talk of death, talk of drug addiction, talk of a juvenile being in trouble, high school boys being high school boys 

It was like a heavy cement blocks were tied to her feet. She moved slowly towards the front doors of the place that reminded her of a prison, but with nicely dressed inmates. People passed by her, and just ignored her presence, something she wasn't used to at all. She was used to people flocking to her sides, begging for a party invite, or to be in her next photo shoot, or to be the next guy on her list, or just one dinner with anyone of her brothers. But now, she was blended into the background, like she never existed.

Somehow, she made her way to the front office, just in time for the first bell to ring. It was her first day back, and already half way through the first semester. She had just been released only a week prior to this bright and early Monday morning. Her brown boxbraids were tied back and out of her face. Her makeup was done to perfection, and her clothes; nicely pressed and matched well. She'd rather be dead than look a mess for her first day back.

"Christine Joy Jackson, I'm here to pick up my schedule." She spoke softly to the secretary. The secretary with bright red cat-eye glasses nodded, and pulled out a file, handing a pink piece of paper to CJ.

"You are to meet with Mrs. Riley first, before heading to your classes." The secretary nodded and CJ rolled her eyes, "Welcome back CJ."

"Thank you," CJ sighed and headed down to the office of her favorite person.

CJ made her way down to the east end of the school, where she was too familiar with being in the In-School suspension office. She knocked on the brown wooden door that was covered in papers for recovery centers, planned parenthood, adoption counselors, and local community colleges.

"Come in!" The voice from the other side called out. CJ took a deep breath before opening the door, and seeing Mrs. Riley behind the door. Her dark brown hair was curled and her skin looked flawless. That woman looked like she didn't age a day, but she also meant business, "My favorite parolee, CJ Jackson."

"Mrs. Riley," The teen girl sassed, setting her bag down in the chair next to her, and plopping her body in a chair, "Instructed to see you first."

"Yeah, just some parole stuff," Mrs. Riley said, grabbing a folder out of her desk, and setting in front of CJ. The folder was dauntingly big and felt like it could start a fire at any moment, "As you know, I am your parole officer, lucky for you or not. But know that I don't play around about any of this."

"This ain't my first go around with you."

"Ain't is not a word, now speak like your momma raised you." Mrs. Riley said and CJ rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, "You are on parole for approximately 90 days, as a term of early release from your juvenile detention program. Terms of your parole include, attendance of school is mandatory, unless an absence notice from a doctor. You must check in with your parole officer everyday at 8 AM sharp, and do not be late. You will pass all administered drug tests, and random drug tests can be done as well. Another term of parole is being involved in not only in community service, but as well as a school activity. Your parents have suggested the dance team."

"Over my dead body." CJ laughed loudly.

"Christine Joy, these are the terms unless you would like to serve out the rest of the 90 days in a juvenile detention center." Mrs. Riley said, giving CJ one of her famous glares. A glare that felt like getting the fear of God put in you.

"No ma'am." CJ answered quickly.

"Good, you have till the end of this week to find a school activity. The community service project will be decided for you. Now you'll sign some stuff and be on your way." Mrs. Riley said smiling and handing CJ some papers for her to sign.

CJ's shoes clicked down the corridor as she made her way to her first class, anatomy. The teacher had already started teaching when, CJ opened the door. Eyes fell to her, and immediately the whispers started. The girl swallowed thickly and handed her note to her teacher. She quickly scanned the classroom for an open seat, and found one next to an unknown face.

"All right, listen up, I want you all to do a search on chromosomal DNA and make a slide on how it connects with last week's work on protein." The teacher said. Everyone automatically opened up their laptops sitting in front of them. CJ grabbed her's out her bag and set it in front of her too. The new kid looked around, uneasy about what he was supposed to do. He didn't have a laptop of his own to use, he usually shared one with his mother and younger brother.

"Spencer, right?" The teacher asked, coming over to him. He lifted his head and looked at the teacher, nodding.

"Yes ma'am."

"It's okay if you don't have a computer. Just pair up with a classmate for now."

"Okay, thank you." Spencer said and CJ looked up at him. Spencer tried looking at the boy next to him, who just moved his computer closer to himself.

"Hey, Todd. Keep watching that Logan Paul feed." CJ said to him.

"Whatever, CJ." Todd said and Spencer looked up at the light-skinned girl.

"Uh. . . you can share with me." CJ said lightly, and Spencer nodded. He moved his stuff over to where she was sitting.

"Thank you," Spencer said.

"I'll warn you, my chromosomal DNA knowledge is non-existent at best. And it's also my first day in this class."

"I might be able to help with that." Spencer laughed lightly and CJ moved her laptop in between the two of them. The two of them worked on their assignment, occasionally having to ask the teacher about what some of it meant, since it was both of their first days in the new class. CJ felt like eyes were watching her, and she turned around and noticed an old friend in class. CJ turned back to her assignment and kept her head down, not wanting to draw anymore attention.

When the bell rang, CJ offered to show Spencer to where the cafeteria is. Spencer was thankful that someone besides his new football coach wanted to show him around. CJ was just thankful to have found someone new at the school who hadn't known of her reputation.

"Salad bar, coffee cart." CJ said pointing at various locations in their center quad, "They used to serve sushi on Fridays, not sure if they still do."

"Sushi on Friday? At Crenshaw, we get sushi on Monday, that's all." Spencer joked and CJ laughed.

"Smart, and funny. I'm impressed." CJ said turning to him. But Spencer paused, and his eyes went to a beautiful tall, light skinned girl. CJ shifted uncomfortably as the girl made her way into the quad. Of course Spencer noticed her, she was beautiful and by far the most popular girl in Beverly. A spot that CJ once claimed.

"Layla Keating, Beverly Hills resident sweetheart." CJ said to Spencer, "Dad's some big-time record producer. And I heard they spend every Thanksgiving with the Obamas. And rumor has it, she even smoked pot with Malia last year."

"You must be Spencer," a familiar voice said from behind them. CJ turned and saw the star football player, Jordan Baker walk over to the pair, "Jordan Baker, QB, team captian."

"Baker?" Spencer asked, "Oh so you must be-"

"Yeah, coach is my dad. I'll take it from here, CJ." Jordan said and CJ nodded walking away from the two football players, "Come on, let me introduce you to the team."

"Hey, thanks for the tour." Spencer said before CJ could get too far away from him. She smiled at the Crenshaw boy, and looked down at her shoes.

"Yeah," She said quietly.

"Sushi on Friday?" Spencer asked, and CJ nodded.

"It's a date!" CJ agreed. Spencer looked the Jackson girl up and down before heading off behind Jordan. CJ cringed at the words that she said, before going off to find a table to herself, away from the stares and rumors about herself. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No, I saw her. Like with my eyes. CJ Jackson is back at Beverly." Asher Adams said to the group of friends as they ate lunch.

"I thought she had like a whole year left?" Hadley said, as she picked at her salad in her lap.

"Daddy's money can get you out of anything." Lucy said giggling, "Bold of her to come back after the shit show she created with everything."

"She's lucky she didn't get more time. Heard Mrs. Baker showed up at the trial and basically bailed her ass out. She was gonna get at least 15 to life," Asher said, embellishing the story a little bit.

"Now that's excessive." JJ said and Asher rolled his eyes.

"She's basically a murderer!" Asher exclaimed.

"No one even knows what she did exactly, maybe she was supposed to get out this early any way." Layla said, trying to defend her close friend.

"So. . . did she have an ankle bracelet? A tear drop tattoo?" JJ joked causing Asher, Lucy and Hadley to laugh. Layla rolled her eyes and picked at her food, as Jordan walked up to the group with handsome young man she had seen earlier.

"Meet the crew," Jordan said as he pointed out different members of the friend group, "This is Hadley, Layla, and up top, Lucy, JJ and Asher." Each of them shook Spencer's hand and Jordan took a seat next to his girlfriend Hadley. He greeted her with a kiss, and took his backpack off.

"I think you and Asher play the same position." JJ said as Spencer took a seat next to Layla.

"What's up, man?" Asher said trying to seem welcoming.

"Oh, receiver, huh?" Spencer asked him.

"Yeah, broke the school record for receptions last year." He said boasting about the accomplishment.

"Me, too." Spencer said and Asher just nodded his head, not saying a word.

"So, how are you liking Beverly so far?" Layla asked Spencer.

"It's okay, I guess." Spencer said smiling up at the girl. Asher looked between the new receiver and his girl questioningly, not liking how nice she was being to him.

"I know it probably feels like lost footage or rich kids from Instagram, but it's not so bad once you give it a chance." Layla said honestly, her browns eyes drifting across the quad to where CJ sat, alone and with a book in her hand.

"I'm sure it'll grow on me." Spencer responded.

"So lay it on me," Asher said breaking up the conversation between them, "Crips or Bloods?"

"Excuse me?" Spencer asked him. Hadley  looked questioningly at Jordan and then at Asher, who continued talking, digging himself an even bigger grave.

"I'm dying to check out a Crip walk for real." Asher said putting his arm around Layla, "I've only seen one on YouTube."

"Yo, yo, he's just joking man. Ignore him," Jordan said trying to fix Asher's mistake.

"Asher, you wouldn't know a Crip walk if it bit you in the damn white ass." JJ joked, causing everyone to laugh but Spencer, who was feeling offended by his new teammate.

"Nah, that didn't sound like a joke to me, bro." Spencer said looking at Jordan. The group grew quiet and looked at each other as Asher tried to defend himself.

"Don't be so sensitive."

"Sensitive?" Spencer asked, standing up angrily. All the groups eyes were on Spencer as he grabbed his backpack and pulled it over his shoulder, "Hey, yo, thanks for the welcome." He said as he walked away from the group. His brown eyes scanned the quad, and found a familiar face sitting alone, reading a book. Spencer sat down across from CJ, startling her out of the reading trance that she was in.

"Sorry for scaring you." He said genuinely.

"No, thanks for scaring me. Too entranced into the world of The Field Party series to even notice anything." CJ said, setting her book down. Spencer reached across the table and picked up the book, reading the back of it.

"A small southern town filled with cute boys, pickup trucks, Friday Night football games, and crazy parties to stir up some major drama," Spencer said reading the back of the book out loud, "Can't get enough drama at high school, you need to read about it?"

"It's different to read about it than to live it. Besides, if my parents didn't land here after my dad's retirement, I could've grown up, going to these crazy field parties in so called, Lawton Alabama."

"It makes sense now, Chris Jackson the 3rd, your dad. . ."

"Receiver for the Chiefs, before retiring in 2015, that's the one." CJ said, "And now coach for the LA chargers."

"Wow, that's crazy. I wanted to play under him if he was at Bama, but-"

"Hey!" Layla said, sitting down next to Spencer, "Christine,"

"Layla. I'll see you around, Spencer." CJ said, gathering her stuff and moving tables. Part of her agreement to herself to get better, was not hanging around her old group. CJ still had an hour left for lunch, and went to the only place where she felt welcome in this school.

CJ knocked on the door and waited for the welcome in. The door opened and CJ held up her brown paper lunch sack and had a shy smile on her face, "Can i eat here?" She asked.

"You're always welcome in here, CJ." Mrs. Riley said, and shut the door behind her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a long pep talk to get CJ to even walk into the girls locker room, and to the dance coach's office. It was an even longer one to get her to open the door and talk to the coach. The coaches and teachers had known about the terms of CJ's parole, and knew that they had to give her a fair chance at trying out for the team.

"Alright, let's see what you can do. You'll learn the dance, and then me, and the other coach, and the captain will give you a mock tryout, and see how you do," The coach, Mrs. Williams said to CJ, "Go get changed, Hadley will give you a uniform."

Hadley stood outside the door, and walked CJ to an open locker. She handed CJ a new uniform and waited for her to change.

"Hey listen,. . ." Hadley started but CJ slammed her locker shut and looked at Hadley, "How are you?"

"How am I?"CJ said looking at the girl who was once her friend, "That's all you have to say to me, after what I went through?"

"CJ, listen, I'm so sorry for what. . ."

"It wasn't your fault, now let me go to practice, since I have to prove to everyone I still deserve to be on a team that I helped build up from literally nothing." CJ said and pushed passed Hadley to the gym. The girl sighed, and could at least tell her friend group that she tried to talk to her.

CJ tied her box braids back, and stretched on the floor with the rest of the team. The girls would stare at her and whisper occasionally, but CJ tried her best to ignore it. Hadley sat down across form where CJ was stretching and faced her. She began stretching too, and CJ just looked at her.

"What are you doing?" CJ asked her.

"Stretching with my captain." She answered and touched her toes with her arms out straight.

"I'm not the captain anymore." CJ shrugged and pulled her legs into the butterfly stretch.

"Well, you and I both know you can out dance Emily Pierce any day."

"She's the captain, oh my god who let that happen?" CJ said and wrinkled her face in disgust.

"Well after your mom stepped down as the head coach, Mrs. Williams took over. Hence why EP is the captain."

"Alright ladies!" Emily Pierce's voice rang out over the gym. CJ groaned and stood up, fixing the black spandex on her body, "We are going to run through Countdown and then learn the new dance. So places!" Everyone moved to their places except CJ, who stood in the back, "Oh CJ, you can um. . . stand next to Hadley."

CJ nodded and stood next to Hadley in the front. When the music started, CJ remembered the dance from the year before. She started moving in the familiar moves that she knew, and obviously caught the eye of the captain who stopped the music almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked her.

"My dance, this is my dance."

"Not anymore, this is my dance. I changed things after you up and got yourself arrested. Now stand in the back and follow the group." Emily said and CJ nodded her head and moved to the back.

For the rest of the rehearsal, CJ was quiet and stood in the back, following the moves the Emily was teaching the group, even though she hated every second of it. When practice was dismissed, she was the first in the locker room, taking her uniform off and shoving it into her dance bag. She slammed her locker shut and stormed out of the locker room, running straight into a hard, muscular body.

"Hey, watch-" "I'm so sorry." They both said at the same time. CJ looked up at Jordan Baker, the one person she didn't want to see.

"CJ, you good?" Jordan asked. He could see the red lining of her eyes and nose, as she was about ready to cry.

"Ignore me like you have been the whole day, Baker. I'm fine." CJ said and pushed away from Jordan. She was thankful that her father was waiting at the front of the school. CJ ran down the steps and into her brother who was waiting for her. He engulfed her in a tight hug, and ran his through her hair as she cried. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, at the Baker household, Jordan walked up to his mom, who was unloading groceries into the fridge. He hadn't ever asked his mother about why she took CJ's case, even after everything she had done to his family. But now, that CJ was back at Beverly and constantly running into things in his life. Hadley had said that she seemed civil at dance practice, but Jordan didn't trust whatever CJ was trying to do.

"Hey, Mom." Jordan said.

"Yes, hun?" Laura said and closed the fridge.

"Why did you take CJ Jackson's case?" He asked.

Laura paused a minute and sighed, "I can't discus that with you. Why? What's going on? She try and contact you or Olivia again?"

"No, even worse, She's back at Beverly. Rumors are going around that she got released early."

"And they let her back at Beverly, after all the things she had done?" Laura asked surprised, "Guess money really does get you things."

"Mom," Jordan said somewhat defending his ex-friend, "You know that's not true. Hadley said that she's trying to get her spot back on the dance team, and that she seemed to change."

"Listen to me Jordan, girls like that, who strive off of their parents success and money, don't change. I. . . I defended CJ Jackson because her parents asked me too." Laura said honestly, "CJ didn't want a lawyer or attorney. She plead guilty and was ready for her charge. If you ask me, she should've gotten those 15 years. She is and was guilty for that boy's death, there' no doubt in my mind."

Jordan looked down at his shoes and didn't say anymore. He turned on his heel and walked back up to his room. He hated the feeling that was settled in his chest. He so much wanted to fight against what his mother was saying about CJ. Jordan was one of the only friends in his group to believe CJ. He was also the only Baker who believed her too.

[simplelittlebrowngirljae]

What being a black student at a PWI taught me

I grew up in working class family. My father was in the military and my mother was a civil servant. Neither had went to college, but they did have job training. My sister was a first generation college student of our immediate household, although I had an aunt who had her PhD and her daughter had gone to college and had her Master’s and was officer in the Air Force, we didn’t speak much about college in my family until it was time for my sister to graduate. I went along on college tours, financial aid nights and many other things associated with getting ready for the college experience. It was very exciting to see what this was all about because this was not anything we had ever experienced. My mother became ultra-educated and an advocate for my sister and wanted to get the most for our dollar and the best experience possible for my sister’s college years. My sister ultimately landed on attending Norfolk State University, and urban Historically Black College and University or HBCU for short. She also received a prestigious scholarship. When the time came, we dropped her off the short 30 minute drive and wished her well. She came home virtually every weekend or we went over there to attend events and football games and I got to see what it was like to be in college too. And I learned what things I wanted in a school and started to think about if I even wanted to attend college.

College was a foreign concept because many of my peers came from these legacies of college graduates from specific schools and that is all the spoke about, even when I was in middle school. They pretty much already knew where they were going because their parents graduated from a specific school, and their grandparents graduated from there and their great grandparents graduated as well. I was not so lucky and had to do so much research about degree programs and campuses and what I actually wanted in a school because well, college just didn’t run in my family like that. While yes my sister went to college, and I had an aunt and a cousin who attended school, we just didn’t openly discuss life after high school except that you had 3 options: get a job, go to school or join the military. I knew I couldn’t join the military because I was flat footed and had asthma so it was get a job or go to school. If I wanted any type of future, I was told going to school was the path I should take. So I started exploring colleges and then I took the SAT’s and ACT’s and school brochures started flooding my mailbox. I started making a list of schools I wanted to see because of what they offered. I attended local alumni events of schools to chat with past students and get a feel if that school could be for me.

The summer before my senior year I took a road trip to visit several schools in South Carolina and North Carolina. I loved them but then my mom broke my heart and told me if I go too far away from home I wouldn’t be able to come home like I want. So I started to factor distance into my choices. As my senior year began, I started looking at schools close to home and there was one school in particular that was just AMAZING and I fell in love with. Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU) was just different. It was in an urban setting and just yelled ‘’Hello Opportunities”. I went to the campus many times, worked hard and applied. I received acceptance letters from so many schools and waited anxiously for my decision from VCU. The day it came I was beyond elated I almost hit the roof! I was ready to start this next chapter of my life.

Now, I applied to a variety of schools, to include HBCUs and PWIs or Predominantly White Institutions. I didn’t even think about if a school was an HBCU or a PWI. I just applied based on how their programs ranked. I wanted a good education. And honestly when counselors were working with us, that did not even come up and my counselor was black and graduated from an HBCU. So why does it matter? I will tell you why. In this day in age, it is almost as if you are judged about your blackness by where you went to college or the things you did while in college. HBCUs do provide a very unique experience and are the pillar of the black community, I will say that. There is a magic and wonder that is unparalleled, especially at their sporting events and homecomings. I will say I did not have that where I attended college. And HBCUs were there when White schools would not allow us to attend. I respect them. However, it was not for me. I visited several and did not feel at home. When I walked on VCU’s campus I felt at home. And that is why I chose to attend. But because I chose to attend a PWI does not mean I do not support HBCUs. I 100% do. And because I did not attend an HBCU does not mean I am any less of a black person. I am still very black, please remember that. I have been made fun of and criticized for my choices, or told I am not really black because I went to a PWI and didn’t pledge as well ( meaning join a black sorority during my time there. That is not true either. Newsflash: you can attend a PWI and be black and not join a sorority or fraternity and maintain your blackness. My choice to attend was to grow myself and learn things and well, all of that happened. Let me share what I learned during my 4 years there:

 1. I can hold a diverse conversation- While at VCU, I came across some unique individuals. And for that reason I have had to adapt and adjust my conversations and ways of talking to many situations. I am grateful to have been in an environment that allowed to experience such because it has made me more aware of the population I am engaging with and tune into sensitive to topics of conversation, in addition forcing me listen to understand and not just respond.

 2. I am very cultured – VCU is one the most diverse schools in the world. We actually have a campus in Qatar! We have so many countries represented it is just overwhelming! I remember checking into my dorm and seeing people from India, Ethiopia, Pakistan, Laos, Israel, Nigeria, Puerto Rico among other countries and it just blew my mind. Where I am from, we had some diversity, but nothing as rich as this! With so many diverse cultures I learned about different traditions, their food and other great things. Around campus we had food from these different cultures as well. I remember tasting Indian food for the first time, and then Thai and then Venezuelan. It was like “whooooaaa… what have I been missing my whole life?!?!”

 3. I know how to network- now, not saying I would not learn this at an HBCU but I had many an opportunity to attend so many events at the State Capital and with other officials which has made me learn to network and engage with others. These opportunities have been unparalleled and I am beyond grateful to have attended this institution and to have had mentors who worked hard to present these opportunities to us students.

 4. I have refined my public speaking skills- this is self-explanatory. I had to give umpteenth presentations and take God knows how many classes on public speaking, but I am thankful for the rigorous curriculum that was provided to me that made me refine these skills. With my public speaking skills also came great research skills so I am grateful for that as well.

 5. I learned about topics I would have never imagined to include veganism, Islam, Celiac’s disease, and various holidays- this is pretty self-explanatory. Being around so much diversity and around many unique persons allowed me to learn about many different things. So many things I had not been exposed to and I was beyond thankful to have been in an environment to learn, experience and understand.

 6. I met my best friend who is from a totally different county and culture than myself- my best friend is form Sudan and is Muslim. She has taught me so much it’s unreal. Like I learned about different foods, about Africa, about Islam, the Quran, and not just learned about these things but have developed a strong respect from African culture and Islamic culture. She is one of the best things to happen to me and I swear I learn so many things from her every day…yes you read that correctly, I learn something new daily from her.

 7. I was presented with many opportunities to travel and participate in conferences and events- many of my professors belonged to many organizations and would speak at many conferences, they would have spaces available to take us to conferences with them and we would get credit for it! So I was able to travel to several conferences and meet amazing people and learn about various career paths and how to integrate what we were learning into the real world. All of that was invaluable.

 8. I learned it is okay to ask for help – this was a big one. I found myself in many a situation where things were not going as planned and I was epically failing. And my pride would not let me ask for help. But then things got so bad to where I had no choice. The crazy thing is, I should have asked for help sooner because I would have been better off. Like, those who were providing the help were more than kind and more than gracious and wanted to help. So the moral of the situation, don’t let your pride stand in the way of you getting what you need.

 9. I learned that therapy is great and not a bad thing- in Black culture, therapy is shunned. And we often suffer in silence. I was very stressed out one semester and it came out as anger. So I went to the Student Counseling Center and go help. It was the best thing I ever did. At VCU, they publicize and encourage students to use counseling services. It is a beautiful thing. Never feel ashamed of needing therapy. It is there to help you, not harm you.

 10. I learned a lot about poverty and its effect on communities and America- VCU is an urban campus. The downfall of that is that there is a large homeless population that roams around the campus. Many of these persons have mental illness, and in a few of my courses we learned about whey people are homeless and how the resources for those with mental illness are almost nonexistent once they are discharged from inpatient care. We also learned how community mental health is a joke as well and many families often disown their family members who have mental illness because it becomes too much. We also learned that there are some homeless people who are actually not homeless and who have a lot of money and who just sit on the corner asking for money for fun. It was quite interesting to learn about such. On the flip side of all that we learned about the ‘working poor’ which are folks who may be working and barely providing for themselves but they live in substandard housing but cannot afford much else. We learned about the implications of such on public health and it taught me so much and guided my whole career essentially. Because of where VCU is located we actually got hands on service learning in such topics and it made our education worthwhile.

 11. I learned about drugs, alcohol, their distribution and economic impact in society – so many men would hang out on campus during the day trying to pick up women. And the sad part is, many were drug dealers and these young innocent girls did not know. After a while one would pick up on such, however we wouldn’t engage them to the point of a relationship. I would say I would engage theme enough to learn about drugs, and how they system worked and that was enough. Ladies, just know everything that glitters isn’t gold and you should respect yourself enough to walk away from situations. Know better, do better.

 12. I learned that self-care is imperative – we all take on so many things and it can get overwhelming. I learned in my 4 years it is essential to take breaks and set boundaries in order to protect your peace. People may get mad but you cannot pour from an empty bucket.

 13. I learned it is okay to not have it all figured out- college is supposed to be the best time of your life. However, as you get closer to graduation things get a bit scary. And there are some people who expect you to have it figured out. Well guess what, it is okay to not have it figured out. VCU had a great internship program and Career Services department. And it was mandatory for me to have a 700 hours of an internship to graduate and go to the Career Center 3 times before I graduated. I learned that it was okay not to have a concrete plan during these times. I learned that sometimes the plan you had will change direction because of circumstances. And that made me feel great.

14. I learned to hold my own- because there were so many races and cultures, I had to hold my own. I had to ensure my voice was heard among the other while still portraying a positive image. I broke stereotypes and learned to outshine others. I learned to be loud without saying a word. Sometimes I was the only black female in a class but I learned to be comfortable with that and how to contribute in my own way. I learned from my professors who looked like me and who didnt look like me and it made me a stronger woman...it molded me to be the woman I am today.

 15. I became comfortable in my own skin- this is the biggest lesson I learned. I have always been judged for how I look and how I talk. I have been called white girl, told I talk white criticized for how I dress among many other things. But being in this unique setting at VCU taught me it was okay to be me. There was nothing wrong with how I dressed or spoke or the music I listened to or any of that. I am fearfully and wonderfully made and all of these things make me who I am. I am no blacker because of my likes and dislikes or how I talk or because of my hobbies. And that alone is worth gold.

 Now, am I saying that I could have only learned these lessons at a PWI? No. But I know that my experiences at my school made me who I am and even made me more comfortable in being a black female in today’s world. I feel more prepared to handle certain situations because of my situations which caused me to learn certain things. My experience was amazing. Now, if giving advice to a young black student trying to choose I would tell them this: explore your options, do your research, pick the school that feels most comfortable to you. It can be an HBCU or a PWI. But don’t ever think that going to a PWI makes you less black. You are black regardless of your choice.

[troybeecham]

Today, the Church remembers the Oxford Martyrs.

Ora pro nobis.

When Henry the Eighth of England died in 1547 AD, he left three heirs: his son Edward and his two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth. King Henry VIII had separated the Church of England from the Roman Catholic church, but he had not reformed the church's practices or doctrines.

On Henry's death, his young son Edward became King. Many of Edward's advisors tried to move the English Church in the direction of the Continental Protestant Reformation, especially the reforms of Calvinism. Three such men were Nicholas Ridley, Hugh Latimer, and Thomas Cranmer. Under the influence of such counselors, young Edward became a staunch Protestant (or at least his advisors were). Under his rule, the church services, previously in Latin, were translated into English, and other changes were made.

When Edward died, the throne passed to his sister Mary in 1553 AD, who was firmly Roman Catholic in her beliefs. She was determined to return England to union with the Pope. With more diplomacy, she might have succeeded. But she was headstrong and would take no advice. Her mother had been Spanish, and she was determined to marry the heir to the throne of Spain, not realizing how much her people (of all religious persuasions) feared that this would make England a province of the Spanish Empire.

She insisted that the best way to deal with heresy was to burn as many heretics as possible. (It is worth noting that her husband was opposed to this.) In the course of a five-year reign, she lost all the English holdings on the continent of Europe, she lost the affection of her people, and she lost any chance of a peaceful religious settlement in England. Of the nearly three hundred persons burned by her orders, the most famous are the Oxford Martyrs, commemorated today.

When Mary became Queen of England, one of her first acts was to arrest Bishop Ridley, Bishop Latimer, and Archbishop Thomas Cranmer. After serving time in the Tower of London, the three were taken to Oxford in September of 1555 to be examined by the Lord's Commissioner in Oxford's Divinity School. All three were found guilty of heresy and treason, and sentenced to death by burning at the stake.

The scholar Nicholas Ridley had been a chaplain to King Henry VIII and was Bishop of London under his son Edward. He was a preacher beloved of his congregation whose very life portrayed the truths of the Christian doctrines he taught. In his own household he had daily Bible readings and encouraged Scripture memory among his people. Nicholas Ridley became an adherent of the Protestant cause while a student at Cambridge. He was a friend of Archbishop Cranmer and became private chaplain first to Cranmer and then to King Henry. Under the reign of Edward, he became bishop of Rochester, and was part of the committee that drew up the first English Book of Common Prayer. When Ridley was asked if he believed the pope was heir to the authority of Peter as the foundation of the Church, he replied that the church was not built on any man but on the truth Peter confessed -- that Christ was the Son of God. Ridley said he could not honor the pope in Rome since the papacy was seeking its own glory, not the glory of God.

Hugh Latimer was famous as a preacher. He was Bishop of Worcester in the time of King Henry, but resigned in protest against the King's refusal to allow the Calvinist Protestant reforms that Latimer desired. Latimer's sermons speak little of doctrine; he preferred to urge people to upright living and devoutness in prayer. His sermons emphasized that all people should serve the Lord with a true heart and inward affection, not just with outward show. Latimer's personal life also re-enforced his preaching. He was renowned for his works, especially his visitations to the prisons.

Neither Ridley nor Latimer could accept the Roman Catholic mass as a sacrifice of Christ. Latimer told the commissioners, "Christ made one oblation and sacrifice for the sins of the whole world, and that a perfect sacrifice; neither needeth there to be, nor can there be, any other propitiatory sacrifice." These opinions were deeply offensive to Roman Catholic theologians.

Both Ridley and Latimer were burned at the stake in Oxford on this day, October 16, 1555.

As he was being tied to the stake, Ridley prayed, "Oh, heavenly Father, I give unto thee most hearty thanks that thou hast called me to be a professor of thee, even unto death. I beseech thee, Lord God, have mercy on this realm of England, and deliver it from all her enemies."

Ridley's brother had brought some gunpowder for the men to place around their necks so death could come more quickly, but Ridley still suffered greatly. With a loud voice Ridley cried, "Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit...", but the wood was green and burned only Ridley's lower parts without touching his upper body. He was heard to repeatedly call out, "Lord have mercy upon me! I cannot burn..Let the fire come unto me, I cannot burn." One of the bystanders finally brought the flames to the top of the pyre to hasten Ridley's death.

Latimer died much more quickly; as the flames quickly rose, Latimer encouraged Ridley, "Be of good comfort, Mr. Ridley, and play the man! We shall this day light such a candle by God's grace, in England, as I trust never shall be put out."

While convicted and sentenced on the same day as Latimer and Ridley, Cranmer was executed five months later. Thomas Cranmer was Archbishop of Canterbury in the days of Henry, and defended the position that Henry's marriage to Katharine of Aragon (Spain) was null and void. When Edward came to the throne, Cranmer was foremost in translating the worship of the Church into English (his friends and enemies agree that he was an extraordinarily gifted translator) and securing the use of the new forms of worship. When Mary came to the throne, Cranmer was in a quandary. He had believed, with a fervor that many people today will find hard to understand, that it is the duty of every Christian to obey the monarch, and that "the powers that be are ordained of God" (Romans 13). As long as the monarch was ordering things that Cranmer thought good, it was easy for Cranmer to believe that the king was sent by God's providence to guide the people in the path of true religion, and that disobedience to the king was disobedience to God.

Now Mary was Queen, and commanding him to return to the Roman obedience. Cranmer five times wrote a letter of submission to the Pope and to Roman Catholic doctrines, and four times he tore it up. In the end, he submitted. However, Mary was unwilling to believe that the submission was sincere, and he was ordered to be burned at Oxford on 21 March 1556. At the very end, he repudiated his final letter of submission, and announced that he died a Protestant. He said, "I have sinned, in that I signed with my hand what I did not believe with my heart. When the flames are lit, this hand shall be the first to burn." And when the fire was lit around his feet, he leaned forward and held his right hand in the fire until it was charred to a stump. Aside from this, he did not speak or move, except that once he raised his left hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

These three martyrs were only a small part of the many hundreds who would be murdered on all sides of the Reformation and Counter Reformation era. It is a scandal to Jesus Christ and his Church that those who profess to be his disciples should ever cause harm to each other or to anyone. The Church suffers still today for the grievous sins of Christians killing each other, and blaspheming by daring to claim such deeds are done in the name of God. Our sad divisions remain, and we must pray with our Savior Jesus that all our sad divisions may cease, that we may be one even as Jesus and the Father are one.

O God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, our only Savior, the Prince of Peace: Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions; take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatever else may hinder us from godly union and concord; that, as there is but one Body and one Spirit, one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

[spirituality-and-alien-contact]

Is there More To Life than What I Have Experienced and am Experiencing Now?

For most of my life, this question has always been with me. As I grew older it was with me even more to the point that I had to look at it and why it was following me wherever I went.

In my High school days everything was going fine for the most part. I had some good friends, I was involved in sports and was a pretty good student and athlete. I felt like I fit in with others. The problem for me though, was I didn’t feel like I fit in with myself. I felt different than the others here in this world. I had no real direction or plan and this began to haunt me through High School and into my college days and after. My parents were always telling me what I should do to become “successful”, my friends the same, yet, I felt different. I wanted to help people and that is what I did for a good amount of my life as a teacher and counselor. Growing up however, there was a major concern for me and for my brother and sister and that was our parents. They just didn’t get along too well with each other and this affected us growing up. The environment I grew up in was a big influence on me and molded my perception of how I saw the world in some ways. I guess you could say we grew up in a dysfunctional family. and because of that I guess it’s fair to say that I looked upon the world and others in a dysfunctional way. I mention this part of my life because it was a pivotal time where I had to choose early on whether to stay in my family and where we lived or to go. Deep inside I knew I had to leave and begin to experience the world on my own without this gnawing feeling of influence haunting me wherever I went.

I knew within me that I needed to leave this environment if I had any chance of maturing into the person I “felt” I could become or needed to be. Yet, what would this person “look” like, be “like” what kind of man would I become? What kind of man did I want to be? These were questions which were with me at a young age through my teenage years and into young adulthood. I wanted to become a man of integrity and of service and contribution and this felt right with me because my ambition to be wealthy was not as strong as most others in the world and certainly in my circle at the time. My ambition was different. Yet, what I wanted and desired for myself and what I “DID” were two different things. I lived a care free lifestyle for many years. With no clear direction, meaning or purpose in my life. Into my early 20’s throughout my early and late 30’s alcohol and drugs took over my life and the only ambition in life I had was to have a good time.

In college, I studied and did what I had to, just to get by, but to be honest, I really was there to have a good time, not to find myself or to build a career or some solid foundation for success… I was there to have fun and play sports. Of course this type of thinking and behavior have consequences. And the consequences have followed me for most of my life even up until now. Here there came deep disappointment and suffering because I had not lived up to others expectations or even my own and I felt lost in the world because I had no clue who I was and what I wanted to do. I was in a prison full of conflict. A prison I had built for many years during the course of my life. Little did I know how important this prison and disappointment would become to me to build a meaningful life based upon purpose, meaning and relationship.

…relationship is the true essence of life.

…wisdom forgotten is wisdom lost

After college, I joined the Jesuit Volunteer Corp and moved out to Visalia California to work in a Day Treatment center for PINS kids and kids with emotional disorders, hyperactivity and attention deficit disorders. This seemed to be a fit for me and I loved it. I was there for a year and then moved to Santa Monica, California to work with the homeless and organize a bike trip across the country with a few other fellow Jesuit Volunteers to raise awareness of the plight of the homeless and also to raise money for the center I was volunteering at called the St. Josephs Center. During this time a friend of mine who I played basketball with at Canisius College was playing for the Los Angeles Lakers and became a sponsor for the trip along with some of his teammates, and a player for the Dallas Cowboys. It was the late 80’s and the Lakers were stacked with some great players…Magic Johnson, Byron Scott, Michael Cooper, Kareem etc. This was a great opportunity to help raise awareness and compassion for people who were without a roof over their heads and it was and still is a passion of mine to help these folks as much as I can because I was once homeless for a while due to my addiction and alcoholism and also due to my search for meaning and truth in my life and in the world. When I finally moved back to my home state of upstate NY I continued to work with children as a special ed teacher into my thirties until my alcoholism and addiction bared their consequences and I was fired from the job I loved the most but wasn’t responsible enough at the time to keep.

Fast forward to August 2007 the year I became clean and sober. During my sobriety I had to change people, places and things if I was to stay sober. Through some suffering of my own making and disappointment, I did change these environments which was good practice for what I was about to find or perhaps it found me. One of the greatest things I learned during my 1st 5 to 6 years being clean and sober is if I changed the way I looked at things the things I looked at changed. The 1st thing I needed to look at was myself and how I treated life. In doing this I was led to search for truth. Not just the truth about my life but the truth about all life here on this planet and other planets throughout the universe/Greater Community. For I have always known there is intelligent life out there when I looked up into the stars. Deep within me I just knew and didn’t know why I knew. I just knew. So, one day on October 13 of 2013 I typed in the google bar: “alien presence in our world” and the “Allies of Humanity” came up. Right there in front of me was the answer I had been searching for most of my life. This search from within and from without led me to find the “Allies of Humanity” which led me to find the New Message from God and to Knowledge which I am a student of to this day. I have shared some of my life experiences with you who are reading this because I feel that we are all searching for truth in one capacity or another. For this search, I feel, is really a need… the need to fulfill our soul. Much of my life and many others lives I see in the world, are seeking happiness and success. Thinking that if we have one we have the other. But what is true happiness? What is true success? By societies standards it is the acquisition of money and power, influence and control and a “perfect” relationship. But I have found through what I have learned from the New Message from God, is that my life…our lives are part of a greater plan of Gods a Greater Coordination. That we are here for a purpose that we carry within us. This truly has given me a new perspective not just in my life but on all life here in the world seen and unseen. Yes, there are unseen forces at work in the world and at work in each individuals lives in the here and now. We are part of a greater reality something we know little of but is there nonetheless. We are a part of relationships that go beyond this world and have always been with us here in this life now and will be with us when we leave this place. I pray you come to find them for yourself and experience them without your own assumptions or judgments to get in the way.

…there is a great force within each of us.

I have shared some of my life experiences and what I have found so that you may someday feel the calling within you. For we are all being called but the choice is ours to respond. I have chosen to respond and this will be with me until I die. Why do you ask? Because it is essential that I do. Many of us in the world are feeling a stirring within us. I know I did for years but I just didn’t know what it was or why it was occurring but now I do. I felt this ache, if you will, in the pit of my stomach for many years. At the time, my life was much more manageable than it ever was, but I kept having this same feeling of anxiety, for lack of a better term, all the time. It was my heart calling to me for me to begin to follow what it is I know and must follow. It was a calling to me to begin to fulfill the need of my soul which is the greatest need we have and is the greatest need to fulfill. It was a calling for me in the world to become a vehicle for the deeper intelligence to express itself through me out into the world. Many of us have this calling, this stirring and nothing you will ever do in this world will fulfill that stirring until you begin to respond to the the need of your soul. I did in October of 2013 and my life has become anew ever since because of the work I have done and will continue to do in my practice and preparation of the “Steps to Knowledge.” Thank you for taking the time to read what I have shared with you. Perhaps someday you may find your purpose and begin to live it and share that with others who desperately need to see and hear it for themselves. Nasi Novare Coram–“The Presence of the Teachers of God are with us.”

…these steps are an experience of the true nature living within you.

” People think of Revelation in terms of the whole world or a nation of people, but there really must be a personal revelation, and this revelation is the result of many steps and many stages. It is not something that you can control. You cannot force yourself to have this revelation because it involves contact with the Spiritual Powers around you and with the Will of the Creator. ” The Threshold of Personal Revelation

…to fulfill the need of the soul is to truly breath life in and exhale purpose in being here.

The post Is there More To Life than What I Have Experienced and am Experiencing Now? appeared first on The New God Experience.

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[thelastspeecher]

Hi! So like five months ago I sent you an ask about applying to grad school and you gave me a super amazing answer. And I'm back now because holy shit I got into grad school (CalArts for Creative Writing) and in the last one you said there was a whole 'nothing list of tips if you actually get into grad school? And I got in and I'm curious what the tips are? If there's anything you've learned in the last few months that changed your perspective on grad school? Thank you so much!

First off, congrats!  That’s a big accomplishment!  Grad schools in general are competitive, and big names like CalArts even more so.

So, you want my advice, eh?  Okay.  Let’s do this.

First step is getting organized.  You start in the fall (I’m assuming), so you have plenty of time.  Find out where important locations are on campus, familiarize yourself with the area you’ll be spending most of your time in (I’d focus on figuring out where the closest bathrooms and places to get food are, personally), and invest in a planner.  Keep that planner handy.  Use it.  It’s easier to stay organized if you start the semester that way than it is to try to organize yourself halfway through the semester.  Make a monthly budget.  Decide “I will spend X amount on groceries every time I go shopping”.  Keep track of the money in your bank account (a lot of banks have mobile apps that make this very easy).  Put some of your paycheck into a savings account every time.  You never know when you might need a nest egg.  Stay up to date on your medical needs (prescriptions, flu shots [for the love of god, get a flu shot], dentist appointments, yearly physicals).  You can definitely find resources at your school to help you with some of these tasks.  There is no doubt in my mind that you will be able to find a workshop on keeping a budget or other adult skills.  Attend workshops for new grad students.

Second, look into different support systems for students.  That means student-led organizations, departments that exist to keep the university complying with federal non-discrimination laws, and general resources.  Get a support system set up right away, particularly if you are going to be far from family.

Student-led organizations will be able to help you adjust and provide you a sense of community (particularly if you belong to a minority community).  Other grad students will be able to offer advice faculty or staff might not be able to.  Don’t isolate yourself!  That’s what I’ve been doing and it sucks!  The only reason I haven’t driven myself completely insane is because I have a roommate who happens to be my best friend.  If I could start over, I wouldn’t do what I did and avoid everyone because I was intimidated.  I would stroll into rooms with purpose and confidence that I am the baddest b*tch there.  Confidence gets you far in life, particularly in grad school.

“Departments that exist to keep the university complying with federal non-discrimination laws” is a very wordy way of saying the Title IX office, disability services, offices for students of color (schools typically have different offices for different racial minorities; find out which one is best suited for you), the LGBT resource center, and the like.  If you are part of a demographic minority, find out where you can locate help immediately.  If something goes wrong related to your status as a minority, you need to nip it in the bud RIGHT AWAY.

General resources are things like mental health services, university health services, survivor services, etc etc.  If you have any history of mental health issues or have been in therapy at any point in your life, I recommend jumping into counseling immediately, even if you feel like you don’t need it.  Just talking to a neutral party will help you more than you think.  Most schools offer free counseling for students, too.  If they don’t, then that’s really fucking weird, but they should be able to help you figure out a method for you to adjust smoothly without it being too much of a drain on your wallet.

Third, learn from my mistakes.  Good lord, learn from my mistakes.  I had a disastrous first semester at grad school.  I was overwhelmed, completely out of my depth, and the one thing I thought I was doing right I discovered I was actually completely fucking up.  I entered my second semester on academic probation and probation as a TA.  How do you learn from my mistakes?  A few ways.

The first time you TA (most grad students TA at some point), insist on someone observing you.  The department should automatically observe all TAs, particularly new ones, but it’s possible to slip through the cracks.  That happened to me.  The head TA was too busy to observe TAs my first semester, and I didn’t find out that I was a shitty TA until I was in a meeting with department and university head honchos, who were effectively accusing me of hating my students and hating being a TA and sucking in general.  That’s paraphrasing, and definitely not completely accurate, but that’s how the meeting felt to me.  I got by only because I explained to them “I am autistic, I struggle with new social situations”.  The extenuating circumstances in my situation allowed me to try to TA again, but this time with some accommodations and outside assistance.

Related: If you are disabled, disclose it to the department.  Disclose it to the higher-ups and the professor who will act as your advisor.  You don’t need to disclose it to anyone else, but I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to tell the people you will be working for.  Even if you have amazing coping skills, disclose it.  I’m damn good at pretending to be abled.  But my disabilities still bit me in the ass.  New situations and stress have a tendency of exacerbating symptoms.  You can’t expect everything to go smoothly.  And you can’t expect the department to hold your hand or even recognize what’s going on with you.  I’m the first diagnosed autistic grad student my department has ever had.  They had no clue how to handle that.  You’ll be going into a field that tends to be a bit more liberal than STEM (like my area of study), so you might not run into the issue of “uh we don’t know how to help you, please talk to some people at the office of equity”, but it’s best to find out sooner rather than later.

Related: If you are disabled, get your ass down to the disability services office and get accommodations.  Immediately.  Start the process over the summer.  Larger schools might have a more complicated process to get accommodations than smaller schools, so you need to get the ball rolling right away.  Even if you haven’t felt like you needed accommodations recently, get the ones you had in the past.  Don’t assume you’ll be fine without extra help.

Don’t take too many classes your first semester.  And make sure the ones you do take aren’t all super difficult.  I fucked up my first semester, bc I took three upper-level classes, two of them in chemistry.  Yeah, three doesn’t sound like much.  But when you’re juggling adjusting to grad school, starting up your thesis, and being a TA, three classes is a huge fucking amount of work.  I’d recommend two classes, maybe one of them difficult, the other one sort of medium difficulty.  Of course, you have to talk to your advisor for what works best for you, but I highly HIGHLY recommend starting off with a light class load your first semester.

When things start going south, bc they probably will at some point, don’t just keep your head down and try to force yourself through it.  Talk to the family members you are closest to (I’m very close with my parents, so I talk to them when I’m having issues, but it could be a sibling or an aunt or uncle or cousin).  Talk to friends.  Talk to a counselor (PLEASE get a counselor your first semester).  Talk to your advisor.  Talk to the other grad students in your department.  You should be able to find at least one shoulder to cry on, if not a whole bunch.

I said this before, but don’t isolate yourself.  Please don’t.  It’s easy to avoid people when you’re stressed.  Don’t do that.  Reach out to other grad students in your department.  Make friends.  Go with them to coffee shops.  I wouldn’t recommend starting out by going to bars, bc that can be a slippery slope, and you shouldn’t have friends who only have fun while they’re drinking (that’s not a healthy behavior).   My grad school has a really nasty drinking culture that contributed to my avoidance of other grad students, but hopefully yours doesn’t.  And even if it does, you should be able to find someone who won’t want to always go to the bar.

Fourth, be confident.  I said that before, but like the “don’t isolate” thing, it’s important.  I’ve always been a confident person.  I took a huge blow to my confidence when I started grad school, bc I felt like I was surrounded by people with more experience (which is an objective fact, but doesn’t always have to be a bad thing) and more knowledge and more accomplishments and who had their lives together.  I was intimidated, for one of the first times in my life!  I’ve always been a top-tier person, cream of the crop, A+ honors student, go-getter, award-winner.  But in grad school, literally everyone else is that, too.  And that’s not a bad thing!  Sure, some people might be braggy, but other people will be more humble.  Having all this experience in one location is good, bc it means you have more help.  You have people you can talk to who have connections, who have run into problems you might run into, who can offer a unique perspective on things.  That is SO GOOD.  And if you’re still intimidated, think of it like this: You got there, too.  You’re just as good as the other grad students, otherwise you wouldn’t be there.  You have just as much potential, even if you don’t have as much life experience.  You have something unique to offer to the school.  If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been accepted.  And it’s not like everyone else actually has it together.  Some people might, but most of the other students will be as lost and nervous as you (esp other first year students).

Fifth, toot your own horn.  It’s related to being confident, but not quite the same.  Talk about your accomplishments.  Tell people what you’ve done.  Try not to come off too braggy, but don’t hide your light under a bushel.  You have to promote yourself if you want to get anywhere.  You’ve already succeeded at it once, since you got into grad school.  Keep it up!  Oh, and don’t be afraid to toot your own horn when someone else is making you feel intimidated.  I was at a thing where one guy kept going on and on about how he’d been to this country, and that country, and tried this wine and that food and yadda yadda yadda.  I got sick of it, so I cocked my head and stopped him in his tracks by asking him if he’d ever been to Kosovo.  He hadn’t.  He’d been to a million places, but there was one that I had him beaten on.  That was a huge confidence booster.  You have your unique experiences.  Share them.  And don’t be afraid to use them to stop a braggart from controlling a conversation.

Sixth, stay healthy.  Mentally and physically.  Walk most places (that’s how I get my exercise), bike, do yoga, jog, whatever.  Get some exercise.  Eat well.  Make your own meals, keep track of whether you’ve had a vegetable today.  See a counselor, vent to friends, write in a journal.  Most schools offer wellness workshops where students can learn how to keep themselves healthy.  Look into that, particularly if you struggle to eat well or keep stress down.

Seventh, take a short break if you need to.  Grad school culture is intense.  People work way too long for way too little recognition.  Stress kills.  Burn out can make you question your path.  Say no to a third side project your advisor wants you to do.  Take a day off, or an afternoon.  Take a long weekend.  Make sure that things won’t fall apart while you’re gone (in my case, I would get lab work done the day before), let your advisor know you won’t be coming in today for health reasons (you can keep it vague), and then spend your day doing anything but work on your thesis.  Don’t give in to stress and burn out.  It will wreck you.

Eighth, enjoy yourself!  Grad school can be hell, but it can also be fun!  You’re here to learn and gain experience and, hopefully, not hate every second of it.  My own grad school experience has been roughly 92% hell and 8% fun, but I wasn’t prepared when I came.  I did the opposite of hit the ground running.  I tripped and skinned my knees and my face and I’m still trying to catch up with everyone else.  Being prepared, reaching out to people who can help you adjust, those things will ensure your grad school experience goes more smoothly than mine.  Just don’t expect everything to go perfectly right off the bat.  It’ll take some time before you feel like you truly can enjoy yourself.

…That ended on a weird note, but I hope it was helpful.

You’ve got this!  Best of luck!

[cindyjane]

where my deep gladness meets the world’s deep need: a remembrance of #teachingdiary

I’ve spent the last hour or so rereading old #teachingdiary posts and remembering all those sweet little details of my short teaching career. Some of those stories have already begun to blur in my mind as I’ve begun using my brain capacity to remember my clients’ stories, but thank God I have this Tumblr page as a time capsule for all those student stories.

Back in June, I shared a brief testimony at my home church to explain to everyone why I was leaving teaching and SF. I recently found the full transcript of what I shared at church (that I apparently typed up, grammatical errors and all, in my personal blog just to remember the moment -- good call Cindy), and I’ll share a snippet below:

... I love my students, and I really enjoyed being in community with them in the classroom, but I really didn't enjoy teaching. Even though people always tell me that I am a natural up there, that I have this presence that allows people to pay attention to me, I don't feel joyful teaching. I feel anxious and stressed out that I have to put on an act when I'm teaching. It felt fake, and it didn't feel like I was really connecting with the unique individuals sitting in my classroom. What I did enjoy, though, were the brief moments either before, during, or after class when I got to check in with individual students, to ask how things have been going, how is your family, did you get to talk to your dad, were you able to figure things out with your friends? Things like that. Things that seemed way more substantial, authentic, things that allowed me to give undivided attention to each person that I was having a conversation with. Being able to help my students individually, as unique people with individual needs and areas of growth, THAT gave me joy. That gave me life.

Last summer, I had an internship at a church called Great Exchange, or GrX for short, down in Santa Clara just because I was interested in shadowing the pastor and learning about church ministry to see if it was something I might want to pursue in the future. Pastor Scott had me read books as though I was in seminary, and I was required to discuss what I read with him. One of the books was called Let Your Life Speak by Parker J. Palmer, in which he talked about vocation (a word rooted in the Latin for "voice," and defined as your calling in life) and shared that true vocation joins the self and service, where your deep gladness meets the world's deep need. I thought about how unhappy I felt whenever I had to stand up in front of a classroom and teach, but how joyful I felt connecting with individual students and talking them through their challenges and struggles (and I'm sure you all know, immigrant students in particular struggle with so much, like depression, trauma, separation from family, anxiety and stress about learning a new language, etc.). Helping students find wholeness and happiness by helping them with their mental health felt like an avenue that was closer to how I wanted to help meet the world's deep need.

In August, I will be going to Columbia University in New York to study to become a mental health counselor. I'll be getting another master's in psychological counseling along with my master's in education, and I've had mixed feelings for a long time about my decision: I'm leaving my school and students after only being there for 2 years, I had just paid off all my student debt from my undergrad and graduate years, I have so much privilege to change career paths so quickly since I'm still young and I have no family obligations necessarily, and having the option to choose a job that "gives me more joy" when my parents never had that option to choose. Who am I to make such a privileged decision when my parents were never able to as immigrants in this country?

When I think about following God's will for my life, I know that he wouldn't want me to be miserable working in a job that doesn't allow me to use my gifts to their fullest potential, especially when I have the ability and privilege to choose something else. My parents didn't have a choice when raising me; they needed to simply find a job that paid them money so that our family could SURVIVE. With my basic needs covered, I want people like my parents to not only survive; I want them to thrive. I know that pursuing mental health counseling is a greater opportunity for me to be joyful in my work while answering God's call for me to serve his people, particularly the Asian immigrant community, and I hope that my decision to change career paths is a way for me not only to honor the gifts that God has given me. I think this is also my way of honoring my parents' sacrifice and taking advantage of this opportunity, this open door, to draw closer to what I believe is my vocation and my joy in life.

----------------------------------------------------------

I’m writing this post mainly to 1) thank all y’all for following my posts for so long (and for encouraging me to keep writing #teachingdiaries in particular) and 2) honor my journey the last few years. Sorry that I stopped posting after year 2 teaching diary #6... I do regret not posting more about that particular group of students; they were definitely special. But, more than anything, I’m so thankful that I learned so much about myself and the beauty of community in my teaching years. God really made us all uniquely beautiful to bring a different kind of light in this world, and my students were living proof of that. I still think about and pray for them, and some of them still surprise me with sweet messages and wonderful news (one of my students got married this past year!), and I just feel so honored that I got to briefly step into their lives for a year or two and join them in their growth. 

Maybe I’ll start a #counselingdiaries soon (but probably not because of confidentiality purposes lol), but I really wouldn’t be the clinician I am today without all that I learned from my students. Learning how to be present with them in their victories and struggles, working through challenges and conflicts together, and providing a safe space of acceptance for one another in spite of differences or language barriers... these are all things that my students taught me. In the same spirit, these are all the things that I can now offer my clients in my clinical work, and for that, I am eternally grateful. That’s all! Thanks y’all for the love and support all these years :) 

[rauliskafan]

Magic in Manhattan

Would you like a little Rafael Barba x Reader by way of “Tristan and Isolde?” Read on for more (for lt-sammi-matthews Twist on the Myth Challenge). Enjoy!!!

“You’re going to put the screws to him, right?”

Mark spoke out of the corner of his mouth as the pair of you sat at the defense table, listening to the man whose sole mission in life was to take your client down for fostering a campus rife with harassment complaints. While the idea of the latter turned your stomach, Mark swore up and down that it was a setup, that he was collateral damage in a world gone mad. You wanted to believe him. He had never been anything but generous as your mentor. The fact that he occasionally flirted was beside the point.

The fact that you wanted to beat ADA Rafael Barba at his own game had everything to do with the matter and more.

As soon as the well-dressed man with the emerald eyes rested his closing argument, he sent a smirk your way. You resented it. Did he think that you were being played? Or that you weren’t up to the challenge?

You would do your best to prove him wrong on both counts..

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, good morning. The prosecution took up the better part of an hour essentially repeating the same point. Surprised he didn’t throw an interpretative dance into the mix.”

That got some giggles out the jury, and you took the moment of laughter to deliver your own smirk to the ADA. He sat stone-faced but just curled his long fingers around a gold pen. Good. You wanted to get under his skin from the start.

“I will not be nearly as long-winded,” you continued. “My client, Dr. Mark Brower has served Hudson University’s Criminal Justice Department honorably for the last seven years. He certainly respects the gravity of these accusations. He would be the first to tell you that he applauds any woman with the strength to come forward after an assault.”

You caught a glimpse of Barba leaning forward in his chair. He had to wonder where you were going with this.

“But make no mistake,” you continued. “There are such things as baseless claims in our current climate, and three students in a span of seven years does not a predator make. I would argue it makes up a select student body who simply could not hack the coursework, and now here we are.”

Hearing the murmurs from the gallery mingled with two jurors who nodded at your logic set your mind more and more at ease. And Barba looked ready to sport a glove of ink, his pen about to explode in his palm.

“I’m sure the ADA is prepared to jump through a lot of hoops to convince you otherwise. But we have our own evidence. And when we reach the conclusion of this case, I have faith that you fine people will make the right decision. Thank you.”

Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you sauntered back to the defense table, your eyes locking with Mr. Barba’s. Perhaps he wanted to wield his pen as a different kind of a weapon. No matter. Those possible sentiments mirrored yours exactly, and by the end of this trial, you would wipe that smug look off his face for good and all.

“Fancy meeting the likes of you here.”

Looking up from your legal briefs, you cringed at the sight of Barba polluting your favorite watering hole. Wasn’t he the Forlini’s type, his lips forever pressed to that holier-than-thou lieutenant’s ass?

“I trust you’re not following me, Mr. Barba,” you challenged as he hovered close to your place at the bar.

“After trying to track your dizzying line of questioning for the better part of the afternoon?” he shot back. “Thank you, no. I’m in the market for a reprieve.”

“And yet, here you are.”

As the bar was jam-packed on a Friday night, the man wearing pinstripes had one of two choices: retreat or assume the seat at your side. It did not surprise you when he opted for the latter, a feeble attempt to mark his territory and make your night a misery.

Two could play at that game.

“What are you working on?” he asked as he sipped a glass of scotch on the rocks.

“In what world do you think I would share my strategy with you?” you inquired in a blistering tone, taking care to shield your notes with your forearm.

“Certainly not this one,” he reasoned. “I thought maybe you were prepping for your next client.”

“My next client?” you asked, suddenly and slightly confused.

“That’s right,” he said, letting you hang in suspense as he took another drink. “Who’s next? Going to try to get Madoff a retrial? Or perhaps you prefer educators who take advantage. Absolutely no shortage of those these days.”

Seething where you sat, working overtime to let the insult wash over you and drip to the floor littered with peanut shells and pretzel dust, you polished off your bourbon and signaled to Bree, the distracted girl behind the bar who kept checking her phone, for another.

“And you are so sure that my client is guilty,” you spat. “Because you’ve never head of someone lying to get a leg up.”

“Of course I have,” he admitted as he downed the rest of his drink. “It happens. I’d ask if you made the same move with Brower---”

“Careful, counselor,” you warned as the door to the bar opened, bringing in a double date and an early autumn breeze.

“I was only going to say that you’ve made your marks based on merit. I would never deny that.”

He finished his drink and also ordered a refill. You stared at him carefully, considering how you should take the compliment and whether or not there was something sinister lurking beneath its surface.

“You would just accuse me of selling out my entire gender to get my name on the front page,” you finally said, not willing to give so much as an inch. Now his silence spoke volumes, and you turned away with a sneer.

“Hey!” you called out to Bree who was deep in conversation with one quarter of the double date. “Some service here, please?”

Bree started forward when her boss, a burly man with tattoos, intervened.

“Come on, Bree,” he muttered. “Got to move faster on a Friday.”

With that, he quickly picked up two shots of what looked like tequila and set one glass before you, one next to Barba.

“On the house,” the tattooed man said. “We’ll get you your right refills in just a moment.”

Needing a drink of something, anything, now, you lifted the shot glass to your lips and drank the contents in one swallow.

Strange. It tasted far sweeter than you expected. Barely any trace of alcohol. If you didn’t know any better, you would swear it was honey seasoned with… seasoned with what? Herbs? Was it laced with something? You just made out Bree’s eyes go wide and started to speak when Barba chuckled.

“That supposed to intimidate me or something?” he asked. “You mixing your drinks? Better study your adversaries a little more closely.”

Before you could offer anything in the way of a warning, he followed your lead and consumed the shot. Almost instantaneously, you saw his puzzled eyes, his lips lengthening into a straight line as his brow furrowed. He had to taste it, too. Had to wonder what was wrong with the beverage. Feeling the need to ask him as much, you met his eyes.

The world stopped moving. All the sounds in the room retired like children being called away from a summer night so they could get some much-needed sleep. The light in the bar stayed dim. Except for the place where Barba sat. There you saw a glow emanating from the man. Had it always been there? Why had you never noticed it before?

“Barba…”

Your own voice sounded different. Softer. At the very least, it was a tone that you had never used with him. When he tried to speak, only a sigh hit the air, sweet and gentle. Like a pie left cooling on a windowsill and promising even more thrills once one bit into the crust to savor the juices of the fruits so artfully buried within.

“I… I don’t know…”

He said nothing else. Simply took your hand in his. That same hand that might have crushed a pen with one squeeze let its fingers lace with yours. So soft. Setting your skin on fire and yet there was no burn.

“I don’t know either,” you murmured as you stretched towards him

And his kiss claimed yours, your flavors blending as you solved the mystery of your heart’s hidden desires by way of his mouth.

“What the hell, Bree?”

“Jerry, I can explain.”

“Did you dose them with something?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be for them.”

“So you admit it?”

“It was for my friends. Well, for their dates.”

“Why? You trying to set them up or something?”

“No! It was to make them fall in love!”

Bree and the bartender continued bickering back and forth. Some sense of sound returned when they ushered you from the bar to a backroom.

But Barba’s moans still bested any other voices.

“God, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Answering his question with another kiss, you sat beside him on a battered couch. With your arms about his neck, you ran your eager hands across his back, under his blazer. You could feel his muscles straining through his vest, his shirt. He grazed his fingers over your legs and tenderly reached under your skirt. Sliding closer, sighing as he stroked your thighs, you dragged your lips towards his ear.

“Time… wasted,” you managed as you nibbled his lobe. “Looking at you in court every day… it was torture.”

Drawing you nearer, he guided you to his lap. One hand stayed on your leg as he began to unbutton your blouse, your breasts anxious for his touch when Jerry cleared his throat and Bree rushed forward.

“Guys,” she started. “Sorry. I… this was a mistake.”

“Hardly,” Barba argued before gazing into your eyes again. “I was fated to come here tonight. To fall in love.”

“Oh, Rafael!” you sighed, pushing him to his back, desperate to have him wearing much less when Bree furiously clapped her hands and stamped her foot.

“It was a love potion!” she shrieked.

“And it’s in her eyes,” Barba said as he caressed your face, and you leaned your cheek into his palm.

“You say the sweetest things,” you said, needing to kiss him again when Jerry groaned.

“Before I fire you, Bree, please tell me that there’s an antidote.”

“Not really,” she said. “I mean… I mean we could try to separate them or something.”

“Not on your life.”

Easing away from you ever so slightly, Barba rose and helped you to stand on wobbly legs. But as long as you could lean against him…

“She stays with me always,” he said. “Isn’t that right, querida?”

Your weak knees knocked together at the word, and you had no other choice but to cling to him, squealing as he lifted you into his arms. Jerry and Bree stood stunned as Barba brought you out the city street that seemed paved with even more flowers.

And you kissed him so hard that he had to sink to the curb even as his embrace stayed tight.

“What?” he asked as he nuzzled your nose.

“Querida?” you asked.

“Term of endearment. Do you not like it? I can change it if---”

“I love it,” you said. “I want to call you so many things.”

“Like what?” he asked, kissing you again as if he needed your breath to stay alive.

“Mine,” you murmured. “Always. Forever.”

He nodded, and you started to drift deeper into the pavement as a taxi pulled up.

“You crazy kids okay?” the bearded cabbie asked. “Somewhere you need to go?”

Once again, Barba helped you to your feet. You were more than ready to offer your place for this night, for the weekend and longer, when Barba stopped short and fashioned a smirk that made you blush.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“What you said. Making you mine. Forever.”

“Are you serious?”

You were still giddy and barely able to walk from the feel of Barba inside you for nearly two nights straight. But despite your ardor, there was still a job to do. And you stood together before the bench as you smiled into his eyes.

“Forgive me… forgive us your honor,” you started. “But it has to be a conflict of interest for me to go up against my husband in court.”

Barba laughed and kissed your lips, your mussed hair. The flight to Vegas took no time at all in the space of his arms. Once arrived, you found the first chapel available and spoke vows with an Elvis impersonator as your witness. When the officiant deemed that you were indeed man and wife, he tossed chips in the air. But you had no desire to make your way to the tables. Better to linger with him in a bed adorned with Lucky Sevens and savor so many sensations as the arid sun set and rose and left the room once more. You wanted his hands everywhere, kept him by your side throughout bubble baths and the few stolen moments to eat. Beyond that, you held him until he looked to his phone with a heavy sigh.

It’s almost Monday.

Let’s not go back.

Just to recuse ourselves. And then I’m taking my bride home.

Which led you to the courtroom. Just holding his hand was so much less than what you needed from his fingers, but the judge ultimately rolled her eyes. She warned of consequences for both of you. No matter. Soon enough you were back in the fresh air, on the courthouse steps, and in Barba’s arms.

“How do I love you so much?” he murmured into your hair.

“I know. Was it the drink?”

“No way. I always thought you were amazing.”

“Did you?”

“Smart as you are? How could I not.”

Weak in the knees all over again, ready to hail a cab and get back to the nearest bed, your wish was cut short by the harsh sound of a familiar voice.

“What the hell, you bitch?”

Mark stood only a few feet away, glaring with his hands in his pockets as Barba eased you behind his back.

“Don’t talk to my wife that way,” he cautioned.

“Your wife? In one weekend?”

“Mark, please,” you said. “Just find another attorney.”

“I want you.”

“I’m spoken for.”

Once again, the world came to a halt, Barba glowing as your mouth met his. His kiss tasted sweeter still, and you were more than ready to take your leave when Mark lunged forward.

“Do you think I would let you do this?” he barked.

“Hey, let her---!”

“You’re not like those other sluts. They were asking for it. You played hard to get. What else do I have to do to make you mine?”

Seeing him clearly as if for the first time, you shuddered but still summoned the strength to push him away, to nearly send him stumbling back.

“So it’s all true,” you said. “Mark, you need a lot more help than what I can give you.”

“I paid for you to stand by me.”

“Then you can have your money back,” you reasoned, any ire in your soul calming as Barba touched the small of your back. “I got a better offer in every way, shape, and form.”

Still strange how it happened. A part of you had desired him the second you saw him walk by in a three-piece suit. Now you only wanted him out of the pinstripes once more and started to kiss him…

“I’ll sue the both of you for damages!”

Mark screeched as he plowed forward. Barba pushed you out of the way and stood to ward Mark off when they both tumbled down a few steps. You screeched, your hands on your mouth as you thought of his head hitting a sharp edge, his beautiful mind stilling his beautiful heart.

“Rafael!”

Seeing no blood in is hair, you raced forward and clasped his hand.

“Baby?” you whispered.

His green eyes sparkled, the one breath he managed to exhale sweeter than ever as his finger reached for your hair.

“Querida…”

Hearing him speak soothed your heart, and you were ready to help him up when you saw the gold pen that had stayed so long in tact dislodged from his pocket…

…and sticking out of his chest.

“Uh… Mrs. Barba?”

You sat with his bloodied blazer in your hands, listening carefully to the doctor’s words. Lost a lot of blood. Critical but stable. Think he’s going to pull through.

Now the world moved. You heard his mother weep tears of joy and saw his colleagues, the lieutenant you had disparaged in particular, smile at the news. Your husband. Your most beautiful love going to come back to you in one piece. You hugged the doctor as you cried happily and asked to see him.

“Of course. Right this way.

Finding him pale under thin sheets, you set his coat aside and sat beside him.

“Hey. You’re going to be alright. You better be, Mr. Barba. You don’t get to barrel your way into my heart and leave me in the lurch.”

Not that you fully understood how it had even happened. Had Bree said something about a love potion? But that was the stuff of fairy tales. This was real, more real than any other moment or man that you had ever---

“Hello,” he said in a weak voice. You barely took in the sight of his troubled expression when you hugged him gently, your kisses threading through his hair

“Don’t you dare go scaring me like that again,” you whispered as you finally met his eyes and stroked his clammy cheek. His eyes grew more and more quizzical until he took your hand…

…and lowered it to one side.

“So… so it wasn’t all a dream then?” he began.

“What Mark did? I’m so sorry, baby. That was very real.”

“No. No I mean… us.”

“Us?” you echoed. “Well… yeah. We… we fell in love. We got married. Don’t you remember?”

You showed him the cheap band of gold that was now your most cherished piece of jewelry and watched his face appear to put the puzzle pieces together.

“I… remember,” he finally said. “We… we took a drink. And then…”

“Magic,” you insisted, your throat starting to tighten. Maybe it was a spell of some sort, but you didn’t care. It seemed so right. He said… he showed you that he felt the same way.

So what---?

“I think…”

“Yes?”

“I think it wore off.”

And your heart that had been so full shattered, the bits of glass seeming to swim through your body, bringing pain to more places than you could count.

“No,” you said. “You’re just… maybe it’s the anesthesia or something. Plus you lost a lot of blood.”

“I get that,” he admitted. “But I don’t… it doesn’t feel the same. You don’t… look the same. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. But---”

“Save it.”

Finding it a struggle to stand with your broken heart, you removed the ring and started to leave the room. Suddenly feeling more like your old self, you turned on your heel to stare him down.

“Was it a trick?” you accused. “To make me throw the case? Look like a fool in front of the judge?”

“Think we’re both in that boat,” he murmured, his face seeming so sad. But now you were seeing him as was before, as he had always been.

“So maybe it was just about getting me into bed,” you hissed.

“No, I---”

“Save it, Mr. Barba,” you barked. “I’m having this sham of a marriage annulled ASAP. And do not call me again.”

Maybe it was his hurtful words or your dose of flowers having run its course, but now the spell ceased for you, too.

You sat solemnly in your office, trying to make sense of the past few days. As you were still his wife, word had reached you that Barba was to be released from the hospital. Not that you had any plans to see him. Toying with the notion of abandoning Manhattan altogether, you glanced up at the sound of a soft knock on your door.

“Hi.”

He still seemed pale, but he was up and about. While you did not wish the man dead, you stood with every intention of ushering him out when he held up one hand.

“Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”

Nodding, you glanced at your watch and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Come to rub salt in my wounds?” you asked.

“Nothing like that,” he said. “I… I should’ve called you.”

“I wouldn’t have answered.”

“I figured. So I… I actually called the girl from the bar.”

Lowering your arms, you watched him reach into his pocket. He held a vial of the same liquid from that fateful night.

“No,” you quickly said.

“No?” he echoed.

Even as you were tempted to see him shining again, to feel his touch, to look into his eyes and feel only love springing forth from his green orbs…

“It won’t work,” you said. “It’ll only fade away again, and I… I can’t go through that…”

Breaking down, you avoided his intended embrace and sat behind your desk. Barba grimaced as he dropped to one knee, still dangling the vial between his long fingers.

“You’re right,” he said. “But what if I told you that there’s another way?”

“What other way?” you asked, reaching for a tissue to dab your eyes.

“Maybe it was… I don’t know,” he started. “Witchcraft or whatever. But that weekend with you was the happiest two and a half days of my life.”

“You’re just trying to be nice,” you muttered.

“When have you ever know me to do that?” he asked, his smirk back in full force as you relaxed some in your chair.

“Point taken.”

“And see… see the thing is…”

Finally setting the vial aside, he reached for you hand. It felt oddly familiar and yet somehow altogether different. But you did not relinquish his hold.

“When I talked to Bree, she said that she’s never seen it work that fast. She couldn’t quite figure it out. But she… she surmised that it meant that there already had to be some feeling in my heart for you.”

“For me?” you asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed that. The way you spoke to me at the bar.”

“I wouldn’t spar like that with just anyone,” he confessed. “Only someone I couldn’t help but admire. Respect. Because you’re smart. And strong. And…”

His voice trailed off as he popped the cap off the vial and promptly poured the contents into your waste paper basket before reaching for your face.

“So I say let’s give it another try,” he said. “Without it. I would have taken it again for you. But maybe… maybe we don’t even need it. Let’s give forever a chance on our own terms.”

His eyes were wide and hopeful as he tightened his grip. Of course you had always felt the same way about him. There were just too many complications to contend with.

“I… I think that’s what hurt the most,” you admitted as a fresh stream of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“What’s that?” he asked, wiping the wetness away.

“Losing you… when I… when I had wanted you for so long.”

You felt your lips mirror his smile, and he leaned in for a chaste kiss. Maybe he didn’t taste quite as sweet, but there was still a kind of magic in his mouth.

“So?” he asked as he rested his brow against yours. “What do you think?”

“I… well… I guess we are already married,” you admitted.

“Elvis said you were a beautiful bride,” he teased, causing you to laugh.

“But we need to take this slowly,” you said. “Like really get to know each other.”

“You mean out of bed,” he said with a chuckle.

“Something like that.”

“Well…”

Standing slowly, he offered his arm.

“Can I take you out for a cup of coffee?”

You waited for only a second before rising to accept his touch. Would you have ever come to this place without Bree’s brew? No way of knowing. And maybe it was better to see him clearly, to explore the possibilities over which potions had no power.

“I’d like that,” you said. Leaning closer to his side, you stepped back towards what you had lost, what you had never known…

“I like you,” he whispered, as he pecked your cheek.

And somehow his simple schoolboy words were the most enchanting incantation that you had ever heard.

[shawol9196]

Teacher AU 10/?

“I had a nice time, Minho. I appreciate it.” Minho reaches out for Kibum’s hand, mostly for the sake of just holding it a little longer. “I did too. I’d love a second date, but I’ll leave that up to you. I’ll treat, but you pick, if you want it.”

((This ch was inspired by & finished almost on time for @lockandminkey!! happy birthday!!!)

They hold hands all the way back to the apartment. Though he was obviously nervous at the pottery studio, Kibum seems much more relaxed now, letting Minho hold him closer to him. When they get out of the elevator for their floor, there’s a familiar face.

“Well hello, Sunny! Enjoying some...company?” Minho exclaims.

She turns to face them, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t see me here, Choi.”

They walk past her as Siwon opens the door.

“Oh hello, Minho!” he says.

“Hey, Siwon! This is my new roommate, Kibum, the one I was telling you about.”

Siwon nods at Kibum and Kibum waves back.

“Well, we have to be going,” Sunny says quickly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two.”

Minho turns to Kibum and whispers “That list is a lot shorter than you’d think.”

Sunny smacks his arm and they all laugh. Siwon and Sunny get into the elevator as Minho finishes opening the door.

“I guess you weren’t kidding about the two of them.” Kibum says, taking off his shoes.

“Siwon and I have lived next to each other for four years and it’s always been this way. I’m just glad Sunny realized that it was me next door. I’ve heard some things I’d rather not repeat.”

Kibum laughs and walks towards his bedroom door but stops just short.

“I had a nice time, Minho. I appreciate it.”

Minho reaches out for Kibum’s hand, mostly for the sake of just holding it a little longer.

“I did too. I’d love a second date, but I’ll leave that up to you. I’ll treat, but you pick, if you want it.”

“What about next Sunday?”

“Works for me. You may have to come wake me up if you want to do something early though.”

Kibum laughs softly, squeezing Minho’s hand. Minho brings Kibum’s hand up, softly kissing his knuckles.

“Sleep well, Kibum.”

Kibum mumbles a “you too” in amongst his blushing and quickly moves into his room. Minho walks to his own, pulling out his message laden phone.

Chat: The College OGs + Kyuhyun

Suho: Sunny just texted me saying that you and Kibum are holding hands, Minho, pls confirm

Minho: Why do you trust Sunny’s commentary?

Suho: Because I’m desperate

Changmin: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) did you hold anything else ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Minho: -_-

Kyuhyun: yeah he held back his feelings probably

Suho: holding back your feelings will get you nowhere surprise him with a rose petal laden bed and champagne

Kyuhyun: I’m not saying you have to go that far but thats far more romantic than anything Chang has ever done for me

Changmin: HEY Changmin: i guess that’s fair

Suho: so why were you holding hands were you on a date or something?

Minho: maybe

Suho: AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?

Kyuhyun: you should’ve asked suho first that way you could stick to his script

Minho: and have you all following us? No thanks!

Changmin: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) how’d it go ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Minho: well, I think. It could’ve gone better but it was a first for both of us so

Suho: Did you at least get a kiss at the end? Changmin: or some d?

Minho: We literally just got back, so no.

Kyuhyun: no kiss or no d

Minho: I kissed his hand

Changmin: what kind of Victorian bullshit is that?

Suho: Oh god that’s peak romance I’m so proud of you even though that’s not how I had this plotted out but I’ll let it slide this once

Minho sighs, silencing his phone. Regardless of what the others thought of the date, it was enough for him. Sleep comes quicker than expected, setting in between thoughts of Kibum’s blushing cheeks.

*

Dreams Team luckily goes by without a hitch; though he keeps replaying the image of Kibum’s blushing face in his mind, he’s able to put it aside enough to focus on today’s softball game. The friendly competition between his and Donghae’s combine group versus Hyukjae and the newest counselor Yunho -- another teacher from the school that Changmin teaches at -- is just enough to lift the atmosphere without getting ugly. When the game ends, Donghae and Hyukjae walk part of the way home with him.

“So I heard you went on a date last night?” Hyukjae teases, elbowing Minho in the side.

“Word travels that fast?”

“Oh please, Suho is practically at the point of sending out a daily newsletter.”

“With fan fiction included!” Donghae adds.

Minho sighs. As much as he cares for Kibum, the heavy involvement and annoyance of his friends is beginning to make the whole thing off-putting. Hyukjae touches his shoulder as they stop to wait for the crosswalk.

“I’m sure it must be incredibly annoying. I promise that I’ll try to keep it all contained, at least on my end, and I’ll try to put in a word to get the others to calm down. When we started dating, it was stressful enough without so many watching eyes. I can’t imagine how gross it must be for you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Donghae bumps his other shoulder, reaching for a hug.

“Just think. If things work out you two can get married and build a house with two gates around it to keep Suho from moving in with you.”

All three of them laugh and when the crosswalk light is illuminated they part ways. Minho walks a little quicker the rest of the way home, eager to see Kibum. Sunny is once again leaving Siwon’s apartment when he reaches the hallway and though she shoots him a warning look he ignores her.

“Kibum I’m ho-”

The words are cut off by the sight of Kibum standing in the living room, tears running down his cheeks. Minho walks over to him as Kibum tries his best to clean up his tears.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s...it’s nothing...nothing I’m fine.”

Minho holds up a hand to Kibum’s cheek.

“Kibum, this isn’t nothing...I respect if you don’t want to talk about it, but please don’t lie to me...”

Kibum takes a deep breath and attempts a smile.

“I’m just having a bad day is all. No need to worry.”

Given how much trust Kibum has put into him by moving in and being honest in the past, Minho doesn’t push the issue. Kibum reaches up and takes Minho’s hand off his cheek but continues to hold it for a moment. Minho moves towards him a half-step, pulling him into a quick hug. He’s surprised to realize he’s kissing the top of Kibum’s forehead. When he pulls away he’s surprised to see the blush on Kibum’s tear stained cheeks.

“I obviously need to shower first, but when I’m done I’m here if you need to talk to me, alright?”

“Alright.”

Minho goes into his room, heaving a sigh before grabbing his phone out of his back pocket.

Chat: The College OGs + Kyuhyun

Minho: So uhh what’s a good way to figure out how to comfort someone without directly asking them?

Kyuhyun: are you asking for you or for a friend

Suho: ??? Is it for Kibum ???

Changmin: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) body language is always good ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Minho: If I tell you guys the scenario do you guys promise on Changmin’s dick to be chill about it?

Kyuhyun: well hell how serious is this?

Suho: why do i have to promise on that?

Changmin: you know damn well the only thing you love more than minho’s love life is dick so just promise so we can get some juicy deets

Minho: -_-

Suho: ok we promise please tell me you’re trying to comfort Kibum

Minho: Ok I just came home from DT and Kibum was crying when I came in the apt and he said that everything’s okay he’s just having a rough day. I gave him a hug because I know that’s what makes me feel better but he didn’t really respond to it much so I know that’s not his comfort style so how do I figure it out because I know he won’t tell me on his own. He stresses out everytime I pay for things for him, so I know it’s probably not gifts. Tips?

Kyuhyun: take him out somewhere; if he seems excited to just chill together, it’s probably time. Pick up his responsibilities a time or two; if he seems super appreciative it’s probably service. Say those nice things like they teach you to in kindergarten teacher training; if he likes it it’s probably words.

Changmin: when did you become a expert in love languages

Suho: when he started dating you and you wouldn’t talk about feelings, ya ding dong.

Minho: thanks guys

Chat: Third Wheelin’ Forever

Donghae: hey!! U said ur boyfriend likes art right?? There’s a sidewalk art thingy downtown this weekend!! Hyuk said u could borrow our car if u want 2 go!

Minho: thanks, that’s perfect! I’ll let you know if we’ll take you up on that

Donghae: it’s from 10-6 tomorrow

With a mind full of ideas, Minho finally gets in the shower.

*

“So where are we going?” Kibum asks as Minho drives the car out of the parking garage.

“The nice side of downtown. Technically we could take the buses there, but it’d be a two hour ride each way rather than ten minutes so that’s why I opted for the car.”

“Are you a safe driver?”

“I mean, at this point it doesn’t matter because you’re already my passenger, but yes. I may be gay but luckily I can also drive.”

Kibum’s quiet the rest of the ride. When Minho asked him if he wanted to go out that morning, he hadn’t divulged where they were going. It may be greedy, keeping it secret, but he wanted to see what Kibum’s face would be when they got there. The drive is quick, though it takes them quite a while to park. There’s a fair number of people at the festival even though it’s a Sunday. When they finally get up to the entrance, Kibum perks up.

“Oh it’s an art festival??”

“Yeah. Donghae told me about it. You seemed down yesterday so I thought it might be nice to get you out and about and this seemed perfect.”

Their teacher I.D.s get them in free and Minho’s heart skips a beat when Kibum takes his hand and pulls him along.

“I haven’t been to an art festival since I graduated. I could never find the time or put up the money to go.”

“I’ve been to a few of the school art competitions to support old students of mine but I haven’t been to a proper art event since I graduated high school.”

“Well, luckily you have me to guide you around.”

Kibum reaches up and kisses Minho’s cheek. They both stand there for a moment, looking surprisedly at each other, before turning away with blushing cheeks.

“So...left or right?” Minho asks after a moment, gesturing at the fork in front of them.

“Uhh...left.”

They walk around the festival most of the day. Though he’s never particularly had an interest in art, Minho does his best to keep up with Kibum’s explanations and learn the terminology he repeats most often. They snack on little samples and small plates most of the day; they even buy a few tiny prints from some of the artists for their apartment. By the time the festival closes at 6 they’re both pleasantly tired. Minho drives them back to their apartment; Hyukjae had said they could return the car keys the next day as they were out on a date. When they get in, they both plop down on the little loveseat in the living room. Kibum once again takes Minho’s hand.

“Thanks for taking me out, Minho. It was really nice and I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, no problem. Like I said, you just seemed like you could use a little something to lift your spirits.”

“Sorry about kissing your cheek earlier, I should’ve asked I don’t know what came over me. I-”

“Kibum,” Minho cuts him off softly, cupping his cheek. “There’s no need to be sorry. I...it was nice. I...I liked it.”

Minho feels butterflies in his stomach when Kibum gives him that shy smile. He finds himself mindlessly stroking Kibum’s cheek with his thumb. As they start glancing at each other’s lips and leaning closer and closer, his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest. Before he can finish closing the distance they’re interrupted by the sound of someone beating at the door followed by the sound of keys in the lock. They separate just as Donghae and Hyukjae come barreling in through the door with duffle bags.

“Sorry to crash your party but you weren’t answering your phone and long story short we’re crashing with you for a week because our apartment is unsafe.”

[jmlongworth78]

A Fast for Justice

With Ash Wednesday around the corner, and many Christians preparing to welcome a season of preparation for the life changing stories of Holy Week and the Feast of Resurrection (The Eighth Day!), we will hear a lot about the classic disciplines of Lent.

Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are included in the invitation to Lent proclaimed on Ash Wednesday.

As disciples of Jesus, we are called to a discipline that contends against evil and resists whatever leads us away from love of God and neighbor. I invite you, therefore, to the discipline of Lent—self-examination and repentance, prayer and fasting, sacrificial giving and works of love—strengthened by the gifts of word and sacrament. Let us continue our journey through these forty days to the great Three Days of Jesus’ death and resurrection. - from the Invitation to Lent in Evangelical Lutheran Worship

While it is possible for these disciplines to focus independently or in parallel, I want to propose a Lenten practice for this year that actually links all three. This exercise will require some really honest self-evaluation, so I hope that you have both the spiritual support and accountability partners to begin this examination and to pursue it.

The first difficult step is to find a dimension of privilege or power that applies to you. I’m not saying that you can only participate in this exercise if you have a smooth running, problem free life. I am asking you to do some honest reflection on what it means to be white in a society that prefers whiteness, a man in a society that prefers maleness, high-income or a large personal net value in a society that prefers wealth, neurotypical in a society that prefers certain forms of thinking and experession, abled bodied in a society that prefers bodies that function perfectly, or heterosexual in a society that prefers straightness. This will be important, because part of this exercise will be to give to a person or community that is from a marginalized (not preferred) group of which you’re not a member.

With that discernment complete, I invite you into the prayer dimension of this exercise. If it helps, you can use a simple rubric for prayer that I teach to confirmation students: ACTS (Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication) For the purpose of practicing Lent, I invite you to:

Adore God as the maker and loving parent of people who are different from you. Let your awe and wonder in God move from awe and wonder in the neighbors God has made and then back to God at the center of all things.

Confess the negative thoughts, feelings and associations you have with people who are different from you. It will probably help in this season to focus on one dimension of difference. Confess the times you ignored the needs of others because the issue didn’t affect you. Confess the times you used your privilege to get something you wanted at the expense of your neighbor. Confess your unquestioning support of systems that frustrate, defeat and shorten the lives of your marginalized neighbors, even when you wished them no personal ill.

Give thanks for your community, for an opportunity to take just action, and for the resources (financial, social, power, etc) that you have that can be placed in God’s hands for loving purposes.

Ask for God’s help in all of these things, pray specifically for harms and injustices that are causing pain in the lives of your marginalized neighbors, ask for guidance on how to put your resources (financial, social, power, etc) in loving service to your neighbors.

This prayer practice, which should be continued throughout the season is intended to help you identify a fast or personal sacrifice that will free up some resources. Maybe it’s a traditional fast and you will turn your lunch money or extra grocery money into alms. Maybe it’s a fast from entertainment that keeps you comfortable and frees your mind from thinking about your neighbor’s situation. Those tickets, downloads, and other purchases could be given up to provide the necessary resources. Whatever you choose, discern carefully if it is something that you will genuinely miss, and how entwined in your life this item or practice is.

When your reflection has helped you identify a marginalized community, your prayer has opened your heart to their belovedness in God, and your fast has freed up some resources that you are going to give away as alms, I inivite you to give these alms as reparations. Recognize that your ability to find this extra wealth, (even if it’s the $1.75 from your daily coffee), is rooted in the preferential system that you live in. This extra is what the structures in which we all live gave to you instead of you neighbor.

To give this in faithful penitence to your neighbor is both to aid their survival and to push back at these powers and structures. There are lots of ways to do this. There may be someone in your circle of friends who needs this help. At the same time your circle may be so homogeneous that you need to look harder. There are reparations circles on social media. Search through sites like GoFundMe for individuals and families who need your help to survive. All I ask is that you not give to agencies and institutions with these particular alms. Far too often, requests of this sort end up being met by marginalized people desperately shuffling resources they need to others with the hope that some kindness may come their way when the bills come due.

My friend Jess Davis, a Christian Counselor and Teacher, has taught me that a great place to start is supporting indigenous/women of color who are doulas, midwives, or farmers. This sort of giving can literally help them bring other community members to life. One advantage to giving to an unfamiliar person or family is that it helps us to remember Jesus’ guidance that we give quietly, without strings, such that “our left hand does not know what our right hand is doing.” The goal is to submit privilege and give it away, not to gain a new upper hand as a do-gooder. These gifts are given in the spirit of penitence that they were taken away in generations past and are being returned in humility.

An exercise like this is probably best undertaken with two or three accountability partners, so you can share your process and your adherence to the plan. It’s extremely important not to lean on marginalized people for this work. For example, if you’re a white person giving alms to black families, lean on other white people as your conversation partners. I plan to lean on my cohort partner in the pilot group of the Emmaus Collective  for this support. I wish you a blessed Lent and pray that you find a discipline that helps you to transform your relationship to privilege, your possessions, and especially your neighbors.

[amusewithaview]

Last one, can be meta if you'd like: College AU. For a Dragon age game of your choice. Preferably characters as Professors but you do your thing. Alternatively, if you'd like this more: characters as mutants? Mutant Professors?

Note: Amuse is drunk posting.

OHHHHHH MY GOD… DRAGON AGE AS UNI, HAH!

Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age 2 are CLEARLY both perfectly set up as High School AUs so I am going to focus on Inquisition.

The Inquisitor is the Provost who DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS, but got promote because the last Provost (probably Justinia) dropped dead in office and the Inquisitor was the closest to her.

Leliana is the terrifying Head of Legal who knows where all the bodies are burie (because she was the one who did the burying).

Cassandra is head of Campus Police and takes shit like active shooter training SO SERIOUSLY, YOU GUYS, like there are drills on a monthly basis and half of the tenure professors have a Pavlovian response to her whistle.

Josephine is the Director of HR and she rules her people like the benevolent queen that she is.  Like, she’ll lay off the researchers and they fuckin’ thank her for the privilege of speaking to her/working for the uni.  She’s got that shit on LOCK.

Cullen is the football (or insert-sport-of-preference-here) coach and he makes fuckin’ bank because he is AWESOME AT HIS JOB but he secretly endows several different scholarships for bio majors and other hard sciences because he believes in STEM and wants more people to go into those fields.

Varric is the head of the English department and he is a legendary novelist with several works currently in production to be movies.  Fuckin’ everyone loves his classes.  He actually started as like a guest speaker and then they gave him an online class and then slowly he ended up taking over the whole English department and they can’t even be mad because he’s JUST THAT GOOD AND CHARMING.

Solas is the head of the Classics department and he is constantly in these sniping fights with Varric because Varric poaches ALL HIS BEST STUDENTS, THAT FUCK.  It drives him NUTS because that means he only gets to keep the kiddos with like an axe to grind against the establishment an a lot of the more imaginative kids get sucked in by Varric’s imagination station.

Dorian is head of the philosophy department and he constantly butts heads with The Iron Bull, who heads anthropology.  Their tiffs are legendary and everyone knows to steer clear of their offices after any interdepartmental collaboration because the offices aren’t exactly soundproofed IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN AND I THINK YOU DO.

Sera and Blackwall work together in student services.  Sera is excellent at relating to the students (because she recently WAS ONE) and Blackwall knows all the shit frat boys can get into because he used to be on the wrong side of that legal divide and he uses his experiences to get through to problem kids on the verge of throwing their lives (and scholarships) away.  Blackwall = Dean of Students/Sera = Assistant Dean.

Vivienne is the head of donations/giving/whatever that one position is where you hit up alumni and famous people for cash to donate to the university.  Her network reaches wide and far, she knows everyone who knows anyone and she uses her power wisely and sparingly.  She totally has her eye on the Provost position, but she’d rather be President of the whole university.

Cole is one of the guidance counselors and half the time nobody knows what the fuck he means with his REALLY WEIRD AND SPECIFIC analogies an yet everyone who goes into his office comes out feeling better?  It is a strange phenomenon but everyone just accepts that Cole is Like That.  Hell, even the various professors all go and talk to him on the regular.  Cole is probably the secret glue that keeps this crazy ship floating.

[therealmrsdana]

Posted @withregram • @williammraineshigh For Immediate Release 8-6-22 William Marion Raines Senior High School Mourns the Loss of Deborah Mosely Norman At her guidance suite dedication in 2019, Mrs. Deborah Mosely Norman ended the event saying, “Thank God for letting me serve my purpose in life, for the children at Raines, so that they could be all that they could be. Thank God.” This one hit me hard. I am still in shock. It is with extreme grief and lasting sadness that I announce the passing of Mrs. Deborah Mosely Norman. Mrs. Norman was the longest serving guidance counselor in the history of William Marion Raines Senior High School. Mrs. Norman’s guidance was a beacon of light for many students on their paths through high school and post-secondary journey. She was a stalwart champion in the field of public education. She dedicated 35 years of her life to educating the students of Raines. She continued her benevolence to the Raines graduates through her consistent monetary gifts and community service for many years after she officially retired. She never left Raines. We all carry a piece of her guidance with us in our hearts. Today she has gone home, and we've lost one of the most influential, courageous, and profoundly good human beings that any of us will share time with on this Earth. She no longer belongs to us; she belongs to the ages. We mourn her loss and send our heartfelt condolences to her family and loved ones. A more appropriate and detailed tribute will be released later and as we learn of an official memorial service we will share. For now, let us pause and give thanks for the fact that Deborah Mosely Norman lived, a woman who guided us and bent us towards the light. Please keep her family and all Vikings in your thoughts during this very difficult time. Vincent Hall Principal (at Jacksonville, Florida) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cg7VhYLLEb_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[faruangeldiary]

A Real World-Freedom and Challenges

It’s been almost 1/2 month since i arrived in Malaysia for my Master program in Digital Film and TV. The best thing about living here is that i am allowed to go anywhere, wear and eat whatever i want. I have explored Malaysia by myself except Kaula Lumpur. I will visit it very soon. Currently i am living in on-campus accommodation at Cyberjaya where my University “Limkokwing University of Creative Technology” situated. 

Lets read my first journey going to another country alone. It wasn’t very easy decision to study abroad. I had to struggle with lots of things. I was not sure if i able to reach here as i had four epilepsy before coming to Malaysia (3 in August and 1 in September). My flight was on 23rd of September, 2018. I was afraid but mustered up my courage and prayed to God that my journey would become a stepping stone for recovering my disease.

When i arrived in the plane the air hostess helped me in everything which i never asked to do so till i arrived in Malaysia. Even the staff of airport accompanied me for so many hours till the guy from my university came to pick me. I was so moved by their kindness and gesture. 

 When i arrived to University then i got know that I was allotted the room at the 3rd floor and they have no lift for physically challenged students. I got shocked from this even i mentioned about my disability to the counselor so many times. The online recruitment team had also given me wrong information about fees structure and then when i arrived here, i had to paid more fees. Thanks God the head of International Student Services immediately allotted the room at the ground floor which is actually a male floor. Dont worry the male students are very respectful and helpful.

The real struggle started when i had to walk in every department in different floors to complete my registration process. I am disappointed there are no facilities available for physically challenged students not even ramp for wheel chairs. The strange thing is there are two lifts  for VIP but only one lift for us which is still not working till now. When one day i need to go to the 3rd floor, i stood in front of the VIP lift. The girl was standing and asked very rudely “Do you want to talk to me?” I replied, “I have a problem, I am physically challenged.” She didnt even let me to explain my disability. She immediately refused by saying “This lift opens to the Founder office. You cannot go.” She then looked at the guard and said “SHOW HER A WAY!”. I felt i was discriminated. I was about to cry. The guard also felt bad for me. He even called other guy from the management to let me use the elevator but he refused as well. He revealed that that girl is from Iran and she is in management. The guard felt my pain and he was a emphatic person. He asked my nationality. I said “I am from Pakistan.” He replied, “ Then we could speak in Urdu/Hindi. I know your current PM Imran Khan.” Then our conversation started. After few minutes the guy came from the lift and asked me “Do you want to use lift” and i replied. “Yes” and the gentleman gave me permission to use the lift. When i needed to use lift again and i asked Malaysian girl (from the management) for permission and she humbly let me to use the lift. I had a very rough day. I even complaint to the staff of the marketing and international student service department but they seemed helpless. The things which management supposed to provide me, my hostel mates did for me. Here for the first time in my life i celebrated Halloween and enjoyed alot.

Lets talk about the outside of Malaysia. For the first time i experienced to traveled alone in cab, visited malls, explored Sunway and meeting new people. Malaysian were so generous and kind where ever i went. I really moved by the girl when i went to Tony Moly at IOI City Mall Putrjaya. She was humble and helped me in every possible way. She even took the photo with Seo Kang Joon ( not the real one XD). 

The staff of TGV cinemas are so helpful that they take me to the hall every time i go. I had so much fun while exploring Malaysia by myself. It seems i got my freedom back. I got the chance to see favorite Korean Celebrities too. In every mall i visited, they have more facilities for physically challenged than my university provides. Even staff in malls are more cooperative than my university. I think my university should invite these malls staff to give training to the management.

If the students and Professors and guards weren’t helpful then i would have changed my university. The Professors are cooperative but you need to show your interest in course. My Pakistani class fellows scared me to death about the reputation of this university. I was starting regretting upon my decision to study here. If some other good Pakistanis fellows weren’t there for me to show the reality,i would have return back to Pakistan which i don’t want at any cause. My brother and that Pakistanis warned me to avoid such people. They always complain and don’t want someone to see ahead of them.

The message i want to give to every students who always complains

In abroad, you need to find opportunity for yourself. You need to stand out and initiate the changes you want to see. No one will ever pamper you. This is not Pakistani society where you depends on your parents. This is real world. Though i have also found flaws regarding facilities for physically challenged students otherwise the education is good. No one is ever fool enough to awarded so many awards to that University where the education is not up to at International level. 90% students are foreigners and mostly are from China. It has different campuses in Asia and London too.

The biggest challenge of mine is that I don't have prior experience of film making. Mostly students are way ahead of me. I need to cope up with them. I want to have independent life and face challenges in order to be successful in my career. No one will ever be successful if he/she has not experienced hurdles in life.

The good news is that i have not experienced any epilepsy attack even after facing so many hurdles in Malaysia. The environment around here is helping me in  recovering my disease. I hope i will get rid of it completely.