#Also doing a post grad degree very part time on top of my full time job does not help in the having any spare time department | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adapted-batteries · 4 years

Text

Making Art

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General/sfw

Relationship: Flynnstone

Word count: 7274

Summary: Instead of never leaving his hometown, Jacob goes off to college under the guise of getting the only degree his dad values, petroleum engineering, but of course also majoring in art history. In “Survey of Native American Art,” he meets someone who he only knew before as “guy who basically lives in the library stacks.” Of course, Fate decides he needs to suffer through a group project with him.

Alternative summary: What would happen if Jacob Stone went to my alma mater and met Flynn there?

Also posted on my Ao3.

-----

Jacob thought well and hard about how he was going to convince Issac to let him go to the University of Tulsa. There were several hurdles he had to overcome: Pa was a University of Oklahoma man, and here he was wanting to go to the nerdiest school in the state; he already knew more than enough to run the oil business, why would he need to waste his father’s money on a useless degree; if Jacob went to Tulsa for four years, he couldn’t keep cleaning up his father’s messes, and there was a real risk of Isaac running the company into the very ground it drilled.

He had solutions to all of these things. The University of Tulsa had the best petroleum engineering degree in the Plains, and he’d always be a boomer sooner fan. And, while his high school grades weren’t too spectacular, his test scores and essay application for the Presidential Scholar program at TU got him a full ride. All he needed was Isaac to let him go and then not kill his company, and he’d be set.

Isaac didn’t need to know about Jacob’s ulterior motives. Tulsa was over 100 miles further from home than Norman was, for one, and Tulsa had a budding humanities program that Jacob really wanted to get invested in. He’d suffer through the engineering degree, but what was going to get him through it were the other courses he had in mind to take out of the humanities, languages, and arts departments. If he was lucky, he’d weasel himself a position of some sort at Gilcrease Museum just so he could learn even more from their displays and get into their archives.

When his acceptance letter came in the mail, Isaac read it with disdain. “When’d ya apply to that place? OU not good enough for you hm?”

Jacob kept the kitchen counter between himself and his father. “No I, well, I wanna do good for the business, and TU’s got the best oil program in the state, you know.”

“I didn’t need no fancy engineerin’ degree to make money,” Isaac countered, eyeing Jacob.

He kept himself from flinching from his father’s glare. “No, but now days you gotta have one to get started. Besides, couldn’t hurt to have one to spread our reach.”

Isaac tossed the nice letterhead on the counter. “Hmph. Well, how’re you gonna pay for that? I can’t just shill out that money.”

“I’ll, I’ll figure it out,” Jacob supplied. He’d already sent off his extra application for a full ride scholarship, which he hoped his more than qualifying exam scores and a 15 page, single-spaced analysis on Choctaw artwork and mythology would be convincing enough to award him.

“Fine, but I’m not co-signin’ any loans.” Isaac fished around in their refrigerator for a beer. “John’s off takin’ care of Sylvia, I need you on the rig Saturday.”

“Alright,” Jacob said. He had planned to spend the evening reading some books he had picked up from the town library, but that’d have to wait. After his dad wandered over to his worn recliner and he heard the click and buzz of the TV, Jacob sighed and set about making them dinner.

---

That August couldn’t get there quick enough. There were many, many times he thought about not going. He’d miss all his friends, his home town, and his pa. But, by the time he loaded up his truck and drove two hours northeast, there wasn’t any backing out now.

When he arrived on campus, he felt very out of place, but that feeling quickly faded once orientation week started. By the time classes started, he didn’t ever want to leave. His experience from oil rigging he already had carried him through his engineering classes, so he could devote himself to his other pursuits. Language courses, literature, history, art, those were the subjects he spent near all his time on. This also meant he spent a fair time in the library.

During his second year, a new student seemed to be competing with how many hours they could clock in the library. He was a nerdy sort, Jacob thought, which meant he was going above and beyond the above-average level of studiousness the student body already had. They quickly established a routine around each other. Jacob would go to his study carol he’d staked the previous year, the leftmost one in a set of three in a forgotten corner of the stacks no one except this new person seemed to want to go to. The newcomer took the study carol two down from him, rarely acknowledging Jacob’s presence.

Their schedule he figured out within the first two weeks of class. Mondays and Wednesdays Jacob would get there first, the new guy coming about an hour later and staying while Jacob left for class. Tuesdays and Thursdays the newcomer was there before him, and would leave around two hours into Jacob’s studying. Fridays the guy wasn’t there at all, at least not when Jacob was, but he practically lived there Saturday, no doubt not going to the football home games.

The beauty of studying in the stacks was that no one talked like they did in the study areas. The hum of the air vents, the scratch of his and the other guy’s pencils, the flip of books, and occasional footsteps of a seeker of knowledge comprised his sound track. He and the guy even alternated who stood and waved their arm to reactivate the lights when they timed out.

Without realizing, he had learned a fair amount about the guy from just studying near him. He was either dressed like a stereotypical professor, or a bedraggled grad student, which predicted how late he had stayed up the night before (confirmed by how prominent the circles under his eyes were). He had notebooks for every subject, and he studied near every subject, though a good amount of the books he hoarded were Native American ones. When he was frustrated, he might mumble under his breath, but most certainly made his hair even more wild by running his fingers through it. When he was hyperfocused, he'd sit on one foot, scratching furiously in a notebook.

Jacob never learned the guy’s name until the next semester when he had a class with him. Jacob had gotten himself into an upper-level Native American history course, filled mostly with history majors finishing their degrees and grad students. Not wanting to seem too eager, he chose a desk one row back from the front row. People he knew from previous history courses meandered in as it neared time to start the class, and some he chatted with, asking how their breaks were and such. The professor walked in right on time, a stack of syllabi on top of a binder in one arm, an insulated travel mug in her other hand.

Dr. Mashunkashey had begun going over the syllabus when the door to the classroom opened, revealing the guy from the stacks. He looked a bit disheveled, running late from somewhere it seemed. “That’s a two for two for not showing up on time to the first day of my class, Flynn,” the professor said, but she didn’t seem that annoyed by it.

“Sorry, I stayed up too late reading,” Flynn replied. “I got a bit carried away following sources referenced in Reclaiming Diné History.”

“Of course you did,” Dr. Mashunkashey said with a laugh, handing him the last syllabus. “Go on and have a seat.”

It turned out the easiest seat for him to take was the one right in front of Jacob. Jacob gave him a nod, which Flynn returned quickly, and then sat down. Jacob focused himself back on the syllabus on his desk, but his mind kept drifting to the man in front of him. He’d caught glimpses of the books Flynn read in the study carrel, and they were quite all over the place in subject matter; any given day he might have had a botany book, or a German biography, or something on Egypt. And now here he was, sitting right in front of him, apparently having spent the previous night doing the same thing Jacob did, though at least Jacob’s morning gym sessions meant he was never late to class like Flynn was.

The sound of a bunch of pages flipping snapped Jacob back into reality. The professor was explaining the main project of the class. “You’ll each focus on a particular tribe’s art, and an era within that. The paper requirements are in the syllabus, standard format. Images are welcome, but don’t shirk on your words because of them. Then, for the second part of this grade, you’ll work with a partner to make some form of art, combining the styles of both of your papers.”

Flynn raised his hand, but Dr. Mashunkashey shook her head. “Yes, Flynn, you’ll have to work with a partner.” Jacob stifled a laugh when Flynn’s shoulders slumped, but apparently not enough as she glanced at him before looking back at the syllabus. “The art component can be anything. Music, painting, writing, whatever, so long as you both incorporate themes from what you highlight in your paper. Since art can take time, and you might want to coordinate what art styles you’ll be using, go ahead and pick your partner.”

Jacob started thinking through the people he already knew in the class, but Flynn startled him out of his thoughts by turning around. “Do you want to be partners?”

“I, uh, sure,” Jacob stuttered. The professor had apparently been watching Flynn to see who he’d pick, and Jacob saying yes surprised her, based on her raised eyebrows. "Do you know what you're gonna do your paper on?"

Flynn didn't hesitate to respond. "Hohokam culture."

"I'd been thinking of doing Pueblo myself, so that should work well," Jacob said.

Dr. Mashunkashey cleared her throat, getting the class to quiet down. “Okay, now that you all have partners picked, we’re gonna get started.” She moved behind the computer and proceeded to give her introductory lecture on Native American art.

---

When the class came to an end, Jacob packed up his notebook and walked around the side of Flynn’s desk. “Hey, since we’re doing a project, we should exchange numbers.”

Flynn had been still scribbling something down, so it took a beat before he looked up at Jacob. “Phone number, yes, that’s a good idea.” He fished out his phone from a worn messenger bag stuffed with books and notebooks, handed it to Jacob, and then went back to writing.

Jacob waited for him to say more, but he didn’t speak, so he opened the phone and texted this is flynn’s number from Flynn’s phone to himself. Flynn was still writing, so he cleared his throat to get his attention. “Uh, here’s your phone.”

Flynn looked up a bit faster this time and took the phone. “Great.” He looked as if whatever was in the notebook was reaching out and trying to drag his head back to it, but he was now trying to fight it, looking at Jacob like he was trying to memorize Jacob. “Um, I’ll...see you around, in the stacks.”

He hadn’t imagined Flynn would be so awkward. “Sure, probably will.” Taking it as a cue, Flynn gave in to the pull of his notebook. Jacob wandered up to the professor; he had a habit of chatting up his professors after the first class, and today was no exception. Dr. Mashunkashey had just finished talking to another student when he walked up.

“I’ve heard good things about you, Mr. Stone.”

“And I’ve heard good things about you, too,” Jacob replied. “I wanted to take your class on Osage history last semester, but it conflicted with a class I needed to take.”

“I’ll be teaching it again in two years, so you’ve got some time,” she replied. Mumbling came from where Flynn was, making them both glance at him. “So you’ve got Flynn as your partner...that should be interesting. Do you know him from somewhere?”

“Yeah, I met ‘em in the library,” Jacob replied.

Dr. Mashunkashey laughed a little. “That sounds like the place to find him. Well, I look forward to your paper. Daniel, Dr. Griffith, liked your final paper so much he couldn’t quit talking about it.”

Jacob’s ears reddened a little. “Oh, well, I’m glad he enjoyed it.”

“Are you considering grad school?”

“Well, I’d uh, been thinkin’ about it, yeah.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he was also doing an engineering degree to take back home.

“If you want to talk about it, stop by my office anytime. There’s definitely fellowships out there for students like you, if finances are a concern.”

Jacob couldn’t help but perk up at that. “I’ll take you up on that. See you during office hours.”

---

Flynn, it turned out, was kind of the worst. Jacob wasn’t in a rush to get the project going, considering it wasn’t due until April anyway, but Flynn wanted to get started right away...at 3am apparently. Jacob hadn’t seen the string of texts until the next morning.

Flynn 3:04 AM: Can you do pottery? There’s a ceramics studio in Phillips Hall, I think I can get access to it.

Flynn 3:05 AM: There’s a few designs that would work for my time, depending on what works with your era.

Flynn 3:07 AM: You could decorate half and I’ll do the other.

Flynn 3:15 AM: Are there specific techniques your people used in their pottery making? We should use a traditional method.

Jacob didn’t reply right away. He went about his morning routine, and was on his way to the gym when his phone buzzed again.

Flynn 8:07 AM: What do you think about woodworking for our project?

Jacob groaned out loud, no one close enough to hear him. No wonder the professor was shocked he said yes to Flynn.

Jacob 8:08 AM: We have months to do this project. There’s no need to start so early.

Jacob shoved his phone in his pocket on do-not-disturb, intending to ignore any messages for the duration of his workout, but now that Flynn got him thinking about it, he sent off one more text.

Jacob 8:09 AM: I think pottery would probably work best. I’m sure we can manage it between the two of us.

Flynn responded almost instantaneously.

Flynn 8:10 AM: That’s what I was thinking. Though if we really wanted to incorporate both, we could also include the woodworking.

“Lord,” Jacob hissed, earning a confused look from the bleary-eyed student working the desk at the gym. He took his student ID and apologized. “Sorry, thanks.” It wouldn’t be that bad, so long as he didn’t let Flynn get under his skin.

Despite his efforts, Jacob’s workout was overshadowed by his loud thoughts. It wasn’t that he hoped Flynn would be cool, but, well, from months studying silently next to each other, Jacob had wondered what he would be like as a friend. He wanted to know what went on in Flynn's brain, what made him tick, what he did outside of class and studying. But now, he realized, Flynn was a brilliant mess of an academic who breathed school 24/7.

---

Flynn hadn’t been in the library Monday afternoon, and Jacob hadn’t gone to the library Tuesday. He hadn’t gotten any texts from him either, so by their second class on Wednesday, Jacob was curious what Flynn had been up to. That curiosity grew when Flynn showed up with a new notebook he hadn't had on Monday, already a quarter of the way filled with notes. "Jacob! So I talked to Kelly, er, Dr. Mashunkashey, and she talked to the art department, who then talked to the main ceramics professor, and he emailed me back saying we could do our project in his studio."

Jacob was kind of shocked at how fast he’d contacted people. “Well, that’s good.”

“I think we could start working on it, hm, next week?” Flynn looked down at Jacob expectantly, as he’d yet to take his seat.

For whatever reason, Jacob got an odd feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it. “I wasn’t plannin’ on gettin’ goin’ so soon, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I’ve only read about their pottery techniques, not done them, so extra time might be a good idea.” Flynn was practically vibrating with excitement at his response, which made Jacob laugh before he could stop himself.

Flynn thankfully didn’t think he was mocking him. “Great! The studio is open for us Friday afternoons.”

“I can do that,” Jacob replied. Flynn somehow smiled at him even more than he was, and well, Jacob couldn’t deny it felt nice to have that joy aimed at him. It didn’t last long though, as Flynn sat down when Dr. Mashunkashey walked into class. Flynn turned around in his seat and started going through his notes on the techniques he wanted to try until the professor had her powerpoint up and running.

Flynn wasn’t as insufferable as he thought, his excitement contagious, but Jacob realized this project was gonna be tough for another reason: he was falling for Flynn.

---

Jacob hadn't done any ceramics since art in high school. Flynn said he could, as apparently he minored in art to add to his many degrees, Jacob found out. It unnerved him a bit, to know that Flynn already had 2 Ph.D.'s and 3 masters in Egyptology, two ancient languages, Chinese history and physics, and that Flynn had no plans on stopping from acquiring more. All Jacob had was a high school diploma, though he had a lot in his head from the books he devoured and the time he spent out on the oil rigs.

The ceramics studio was thankfully empty when they arrived. The room was open, old windows hinting at a time when the space used to be an engineering workshop when the art building used to be the engineering building, which the engraved stone above one entrance still said. Shelving with a variety of in-progress and complete works lined most of the walls, with tables in the center of one half of the room, and space for throwing wheels in the other. It smelled like wet earth, and for a moment, Jacob imagined he was out on a new rig after a rain.

The professor who taught ceramics classes gave a basic rundown of the room, clearly with the dual purpose of informing them of where things were and sussing out just how skilled they were. Flynn's rambling at various points about technique and clay types seemed to satisfy the professor, who left them to their devices.

Flynn took a hunk of clay out of the plastic bag and started rolling out coils on top of a drywall square. "Okay, were there specific techniques you need to incorporate from your time period?"

"Well, it was coil-based, like yours, though the clay they used had a different composition ‘cause of where they sourced it," Jacob replied. Flynn had set him on making the base, so he was rolling out a slab to index finger thickness with a rolling pin.

It was clear Flynn had worked with clay before. He already had several coils made and covered to prevent drying out while Jacob hadn't even gotten to the right thickness yet. "Dr. Kanhg couldn't get clay with the mineral composition we needed, but he does have matte glazes we can use to make the clay look the right color, give it the more reddish hue," Flynn said. His eyes then flicked to Jacob's work, brow furrowing. "You're rolling it too thin."

Jacob had been paying attention to his clay, but then he had gotten distracted by Flynn working, how delicate yet firm he rolled out the coils under his palms, the way his hair flopped a bit with his head bent down. Jacob had rolled his clay out all right, to about an ⅛ inch thick divot in the middle with over an inch thick edges from not flipping his slab. If he was making a mini half-pipe, he would've done a fine job. "Uh, sorry, I'll start over." He went to smush it together when Flynn yanked the clay out from under his hands.

"If you do that you'll dry it out with the oil from your hands," Flynn snapped like Jacob was supposed to know that. Flynn folded it twice and then started slamming it on the drywall slab to combine it.

"I've only done ceramics once in high school, man," Jacob retorted, puffing himself up a bit on the stool he was sitting on.

"Clearly it shows," Flynn replied, salt in Jacob's wounded ego. Flynn, not very gently, shoved the drywall square with the now condensed clay over to Jacob. "Pay attention this time."

Jacob grunted at him, not trusting himself to say anything good, and rolled out his slab again. This time he kept his eyes glued to his work, ignoring the pinprick sensation of Flynn's judgemental gaze on him. He rolled it out well enough, and used a large yogurt container to trace out a circle and cut it out.

No sooner than he finished sliding the knife around the trace he made and started to pull the excess clay away, Flynn snatched the circle and started working it to attach the coils. "I was gonna do that," Jacob growled, watching Flynn flip the edges up with more speed and evenness than Jacob would have.

Flynn didn't look up at him. "And I'm sure you'd have to do it twice too."

"You don't know that," Jacob muttered, watching Flynn. He looked around the studio, feeling useless, so he said, "Is there something I can do? It's half my project too."

Flynn stopped working, glaring at him for a moment before softening his expression. "Have you made a coil pot before?"

"No...but I think I can do it from watching you," Jacob said.

Flynn narrowed his eyes a bit, but gently slid the partially done pot across the table to him. "Pinch and smooth down on the inside to connect the clay, but don't push too hard or you'll warp the coil below."

Jacob got halfway done with the coil before he punched through accidentally with his finger, making a hole. "Well fuck," he said as Flynn let out a frustrated sigh. It was going to take forever if he kept working, so he passed it back to Flynn. "Sorry."

"Since you're just going to mess it up, let me make it," Flynn said with exasperation. "You can decorate, if you won't mess that up too."

"Just ‘cause I'm not some genius like you and I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I can't do it," Jacob barked. For an instant he reminded himself of his father, and he cringed a little. He’d startled Flynn too; where Flynn had been repairing the hole Jacob made, there was now a rip again. “Sorry, I, uh, look. It took a lot for me to get here, and I wanna learn just as much as you do, but if you’re gonna treat me like I’m an idiot, I’m just gonna leave.”

Flynn didn’t respond at first, so Jacob started packing up his things and leaving. “No, wait!” Flynn grabbed his forearm; thankfully Jacob hadn’t rolled down his shirt sleeve yet. “I’m not good with people.”

Jacob huffed. “You don’t say.” He glanced at Flynn’s clay-dusted hand, still holding him, which made Flynn release him.

“I mean, school, learning, it’s everything to me. I don’t want to mess this project up. It has to be perfect, everything does, because that means I understand it.” Flynn went to rake a hand through his hair, but at the last second realized his hands were not clean, and stopped himself. “I just want one group project to go right. I hate group projects, but I need you to prove to Dr. Mashunkashey that I can work with people. She says I need to be able to do that if I want to be a professor.”

Jacob was not expecting Flynn to open up to him like that. Nor was he expecting the warmth in his chest when Flynn said he needed him, but he pushed that aside before he did anything reckless. “I’m willing to put in the effort if you are, but you have to let me do some of the work. I’m not gonna flake out.” Jacob hadn’t realized just how spooked Flynn was until he relaxed, tension released from his shoulders.

“Okay.” Flynn looked at the in-progress pot for a moment, then said, “I’m going to finish fixing the hole, then you can try again. You have to be gentle with it.”

“I know.” Jacob sat patiently, waiting for Flynn finish the repair. Once he did, he pushed the pot to Jacob. He started adding a new coil, but after a couple pinches, Flynn stopped him.

“You’ve got to be gentler than that,” Flynn said. “Can’t you feel when the clay is giving too much?” Without warning, Flynn took Jacob’s hand, looking at his fingers. “Oh, of course you can’t, you’ve got calloused fingertips.” He glanced up at Jacob. “Guitar, I assume?”

Jacob was doing all he could to contain himself. “Uh, yeah, and probably from years of working on an oil rig too.”

Flynn nodded thoughtfully at the addition, clearly filing it away wherever he was storing facts about Jacob. He hadn’t let go of Jacob’s hand, and this time Jacob wasn’t going to do anything to make him. “You’re pushing too hard, and thus thinning the clay too much at the join, that’s why you punched through,” Flynn explained. He then moved Jacob’s hand back into position, but this time, keeping his hand on top of Jacob’s. Their hands together almost didn’t fit into the pot, but Flynn made it work. “I’m going to press down so you can feel how hard you can go without breaking it, okay?”

Jacob nodded, not trusting words at the moment. Flynn proceeded to work the clay through Jacob’s hand, somehow just as good as he was before. Part of Jacob’s brain noticed that he didn’t push near as hard as Jacob had been when trying to be gentle, and filed it away, but most of his brain was focused on how intently Flynn was watching their hands work, and then how intently he was looking back at Jacob when he stopped. “Did you feel the difference?”

“Uh,” Jacob cleared his throat when it came out husky, “yeah, I did. Thanks. You really know your stuff.”

He noticed Flynn blush a little at the compliment. “Good. Uh,” Flynn realized he was still holding Jacob’s hand and released him, “now you try on your own.” After Jacob satisfactorily did a whole coil, they alternated until they reached a stopping point a third of the way through. “We need to let it dry to leather-hard before we add any more, otherwise it will collapse.”

Jacob vaguely remembered that leather-hard was a term to describe the texture of somewhat dried clay. “Alright. How long is that gonna take?”

Flynn considered the room a bit, thinking. “Today’s a humid day, so it would probably be best to wrap it with a paper towel and leave it in a plastic bag, then check it tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Jacob went and gathered the plastic and paper towels while Flynn fiddled with a coil. “I guess we can come back Monday afternoon?”

“That should be good, yes,” Flynn replied, swaddling the base of the pot with paper towels. He took a strip of plastic and wrapped the rim, and apparently noticed Jacob watching him. “This will keep the top fresh so when we come back, we can continue working it.”

Jacob nodded. He helped Flynn clean their area, replacing tools and wiping down the table. Done with their tasks, they awkwardly stared at each other across the table for a few moments before Jacob said, “Well, guess I’ll see ya Monday then?”

“Yes...see you then,” Flynn said, and then without warning, he rather hastily left the studio.

Jacob watched him go, then sat back down on the stool he’d been sitting on. “Oh Lord.”

---

He felt kind of guilty when he pulled up Clayton’s contact on his phone. He’d not been great about calling like he’d promised when he left Lawton, but Clayton always told him he knew college was hectic and to not worry about it. Still, as the phone rang, Jacob felt bad about calling just to talk about his personal life.

“Hey, long time no call, eh?” Clayton said as he answered.

“Yeah, sorry man. Some of these engineerin’ classes I should’ve tested out of, but they don’t really do that here,” Jacob replied. He was in his apartment, laying on his bed.

“I bet you could test out of half of that degree,” Clayton said with a laugh. “So what’s new with you?”

“I was gonna ask you that first,” Jacob said, feeling his face heat up already.

“You know I’d tell you the same as a few weeks ago, ‘cuz nothing new’s happened,” Clayton replied. “Plus,” Jacob could hear the smile in his voice, “I got a feelin’ you’re gonna ask for advice about somethin’.”

“How’d you, ugh, never mind,” Jacob scoffed, really blushing when Clayton laughed at him again. “Yeah, I got a...situation.”

Clayton sighed. “And who is he?”

Jacob sighed. “He’s in my Native American art history class, we’re partners on the group project, but I actually knew him before it.”

“...Wait, is this the same guy who you studied with in the library?”

Jacob shook his head, yet again surprised by how well Clayton could read him, even over the phone. “Studied near, but yeah. Turns out he’s doin’ a Ph.D. in Native history.”

"So he’s closer to your age?”

“I think so, though he might honestly be younger than me. The man’s got like five degrees already,” Jacob said, not bothering to keep the contempt out of his voice.

“So you went and fell for a genius, huh?”

“He’s a smartass,” Jacob said, but after a moment he added, “yeah, I have.” He was super fortunate to have such a good guy as Clayton he could call his best friend. He’d fallen for him too, briefly, but Clayton didn’t feel the same, and then Clayton decided it was his job to be Jacob’s wingman.

“And does he feel the same?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think so at first, but now…”

Clayton chuckled. “Then tell me what happened.” Jacob explained the happenings in the ceramics studio. “Well, he sounds awkward, but I think it’d be best to ask him directly.”

Jacob knew Clayton was going to say that, but he still felt shocked. “I can’t just ask him!”

“Why not?” was all Clayton said.

“‘Cause, well, if he doesn’t, this whole project is gonna be awkward.”

“Isn’t it already though?”

Jacob thought a moment. “Well, I guess, yeah. But I also don’t wanna get distracted before we finish this project. It’s worth half our grade.”

“So you’re just gonna pine away in silence for three months?”

“It might not be three months...Flynn’s too focused on doing this project as quick as we can.” Jacob hadn’t really considered that until now. “If we get the project done quick, then there’s nothin’ stoppin’ me from askin’ him after.”

“That’s the spirit. Let me know how it goes, you know I wouldn’t mind drivin’ up if you needed it.”

“Thanks, Clayton.”

"Anytime, Jacob."

---

Jacob decided that getting the project mostly done was the priority. This meant he had to suffer through two more equally awkward handbuilding sessions before their pot was ready for the first firing. At least in class, Flynn’s back was to him, except when they had class discussions. By the time they started glazing their pot, Jacob swore Flynn knew exactly how he was making him feel.

Glazing was just as messy as he remembered in high school. Flynn didn’t care about the state of the table, or himself, so long as his strips on the pot were perfect replicas of various designs he picked. Compared to the pot making, Jacob turned out to be the better painter. The hardest part for him was picking the designs he wanted to use.

Jacob was halfway through a strip when Flynn asked, “Where did you learn how to paint?”

Jacob snickered a little. “Same as most everything else, self-taught.” He glanced at Flynn, who currently had smears of blue underglaze where he’d wiped his forehead. “Are ya goin’ for war paint too?”

Flynn narrowed his eyes, confused. “What?”

“You got underglaze on your face,” Jacob said, pointing at Flynn’s forehead with the brush.

Flynn swiped at his forehead, making the smear worse, which just made Jacob laugh harder. “Oh yeah? Well-” Flynn decided to go for direct retaliation and swiped at Jacob’s face with his orange-covered brush across the table “-Now we match!”

Jacob tried to dodge, about fell off his stool, and Flynn’s brush ended up tapping the end of his nose. He knew better, he really did, but Flynn had worn him down the past week, so Jacob got off his stool, holding his brush out like a rapier. “You’ll regret that,” he growled.

Taking the challenge, Flynn got into a much more trained en-garde stance. “I rather think you will!” Then, without warning, Flynn jumped around the edge of the table at him.

Jacob realized that he was outclassed, but gave a valiant effort anyway. Quickly, Flynn had him giving up ground, forcing him to the sink that sat in the middle of the room between the tables and throwing wheels. “You’ve taken a class on fencing, haven’t you?”

“Lessons, when I was a kid, but yes, I’ve been trained,” Flynn replied, spying for an opening to tag Jacob. Just as Flynn lunged, Jacob dodged left, letting Flynn catch himself on the sink. Flynn shook his head, a mischievous grin on his face. “You, you’ve got some fight experience too.” He took a swipe, forcing Jacob closer to the finished projects shelf. “But not formal, no...brawls, that’s what you get into.”

Jacob took a jab at Flynn, gaining a foot of ground, but Flynn quickly forced him back two. “Not been in a scrap in a while,” Jacob said, trying again to swipe himself some room.

Seeing Jacob essentially pinned, his left blocked by the stoneware clay reclaim bin and a table, Flynn went for the killing blow. Jacob knew how to read people in fights, and Flynn had gotten to the “confident of a win” stage, so Jacob ducked at the last possible second. This meant he was out of range of the brush, but Flynn was now barreling straight for the shelving. Without thinking, Jacob jumped back up, wrapping his arms around Flynn’s waist as he did and pushing him back away from the shelf.

“I was going to stop myself,” Flynn quipped as Jacob released him.

“I know overshooting when I see it,” Jacob retorted. He hadn’t stepped away from Flynn, nor had Flynn stepped away from him. They were less than a foot apart. Flynn’s eyes were dark, no doubt from the adrenaline of the fight; Jacob assumed he looked a similar state of riled up. He caught himself glancing at Flynn’s mouth without thinking, and was about to step away, until Flynn mimicked him, glancing at his lips.

Jacob closed the distance between them before he could think of reasons why he shouldn’t.

Flynn kissing him back made him forget any of those reasons.

An odd wetness on his forearm made him pull away. Flynn’s paintbrush had made an orange stripe on his arm. He looked back to Flynn, eyes even darker than they had been. “Guess we should finish the pot.”

“Uh, y...yeah,” Flynn said eloquently. “I didn’t know you…”

Jacob laughed under his breath. “You’ve been driving me crazy the past three weeks.”

Flynn’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were angry at me.”

Jacob closed his eyes, a smile on his face. “You really weren’t kiddin’ when you said you’re bad with people.” He opened his eyes when he felt Flynn shaking his head, nose brushing against Jacob’s. “Well, maybe I can teach you a thing or two,” he murmured, giving Flynn a tease of a kiss before pulling away again. “But we really should finish the pot.”

Flynn took a moment to adjust his focus. “Right, yes.” He stepped away, smoothing out his shirt in an effort to make himself look less flustered. He walked over to the pot, but turned back to Jacob following him. “So, we’re doing this?”

The fact that Jacob was now finding Flynn’s awkwardness really endearing was a testament to just how hard he’d fallen for the genius. “I am if you want to.”

Flynn nodded...and nodded some more before he responded, “Okay, good, yes, I very much want to do that again.”

Jacob laughed. “Well, we can make out as much as we want after we finish this pot, ‘cause the next firing is two days from now and it needs to dry before then.”

The motivation of more set a fire in Flynn’s belly; he attacked the pot with his brush, clearly caring less about perfect replication and more about finishing in the same general design so he could go do better things. Jacob put a little more effort into his, and thus was still painting when Flynn finished his underglaze design and cleaned his materials up. Flynn managed to sit there for 30 seconds before he interrupted Jacob. “How much longer will you take?”

Jacob glanced over at him, an eyebrow raised. “Why, you got somewhere you gotta be?” Flynn squirmed on his stool, making Jacob feel the heat of satisfaction in his chest. “I’ll be done when I’m done. I might just reward ya for your patience,” Jacob said with a smirk.

Flynn practically melted under his gaze, ears going red. “Okay...fine.”

It was just too fun seeing the effect of his words on Flynn. “Can you wait a little more for me?” Jacob rumbled, letting his voice get low and gravelly. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Flynn shuddered, making Jacob smile.

After Jacob slightly more hastily finished his strips, Flynn practically threw himself at him. Jacob had to make himself shove Flynn off him. “Hey, I didn’t say you could do that,” Jacob growled more than he had meant to; Flynn shuddered a bit. “We need to clean up, and not make out in a public classroom.” Flynn looked like he was enjoying getting told what to do too much, red flush on his face and neck, but eyes definitely staring Jacob down. “Look, once we clean up, we can go to my apartment, alright?”

Flynn, also very aware of how he was affecting Jacob, moved back into Jacob’s space. “You took entirely too long to say that,” he said, voice low and a bit breathy. Flynn leaned–not to kiss Jacob again, but to grab the dirty paint brushes on the workbench, making Jacob lean into empty air. Flynn looked at him expectantly. “Well? We better clean up then.”

“You little…” Jacob shook his head, smiling deviously. Flynn preened as he dramatically walked to the sink, knowing full well Jacob’s eyes were on him.

They could’ve been perhaps more thorough in their cleaning, if they weren’t both busy imagining what they were going to do to each other once they got to Jacob’s apartment.

---

The next class, Jacob had intended to play it cool, meaning acting like nothing unusual happened between him and Flynn. That fell flat when Flynn, arriving just barely on time as usual, strode over to Jacob with a dopey grin on his face. For a moment Jacob was terrified Flynn was going to kiss him in front of the whole class. Thankfully, Flynn just patted Jacob’s hand, purposely drawing his fingers away sensually, and then sat in his seat.

Once his brain restarted, Jacob looked around as discreetly as he could manage. No one seemed to have noticed, expect Dr. Mashunkashey, who was watching him with curiosity. Thankfully, she started class, and Jacob did his best to take notes and not reach out and pet the back of Flynn’s head.

On the way out of class, Dr. Mashunkashey stopped Jacob. “Jacob, can you talk for a moment?”

Jacob looked to Flynn, who was all but dragging him out of class to “work on the paper” which Jacob knew wasn’t what he was planning. Flynn didn’t seem to think anything amiss, so he said, “I’ll meet you outside,” and left the classroom.

“Everything okay with your project?” she asked, glancing at the door. “I know Flynn can be a bit...much, so if you need me to talk to him, I can.”

Jacob went a bit red, but tried to power through. “Oh, uh, nah, everything’s good. We’ve even started making our art piece.”

Dr. Mashunkashey seemed a bit surprised with his response. “Well, that’s certainly a change. I look forward to seeing what you two make together.”

Jacob’s brain of course heard “seeing you two together” and had to blink a few times to refocus himself. “I, uh, think it’ll be pretty good. It’s been a long while since I worked with clay, though that’s apparently one of Flynn’s many damn talents.” Jacob kicked himself internally, cursing in front of a professor like that.

Dr. Mashunkashey, to Jacob’s surprise, gave a hearty laugh. “I wouldn’t say it’s often I teach students who have more degrees than I do children. Though I think you could put Flynn in his paces from your papers so far.”

“Oh, I don’t think I could be as good as him,” Jacob retorted, pausing as he briefly considered what that would entail, “I’d have to quadruple major or something.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you. Flynn seemed pretty eager to get to work.”

“Yeah...he really likes to work on things when he’s focused on them,” Jacob replied, pointedly making his way towards the door so he didn’t have to directly look at the professor. “Have a good day, Professor.”

“You too, Jacob,” she said with a wave.

Flynn was apparently waiting to pounce on him in the hallway, which Jacob had briefly pondered if he would, so he braced his arm to keep Flynn off him. While it did keep Flynn from macking on him, Flynn also took his arm and entwined his own, and started walking down the hall. “What did she have to talk about?”

“Oh, uh, she asked if we were doing okay–I mean, our project,” Jacob stammered, glancing down at their arms.

Flynn didn’t seem to care and just kept walking towards the stairs. “Oh, well I bet she was surprised to hear I’m not procrastinating on a project for once. Speaking of projects,” Flynn leaned to speak lowly into Jacob’s ear, “I was thinking we could move our research to your place, or mine.”

“Uh huh,” Jacob chuckled. “Well, I suppose we could do that.”

They did not, in fact, work on their project that morning.

---

In the end, they got an A on their papers, project, and presentation of said project. And Dr. Mashunkashey won her bet against her colleagues that Jacob and Flynn would get together by the end of her class.

-----

Post Notes: Sorry for the quick ending, I’ve been sitting on this fic since February and never finished it, so I figured making an ending and getting it out was better than it sitting in my google drive forever. Also, when it comes to ages, I saw them both as a bit older than your usual 18-22 college students; for both they’re at least 23 or so, Jacob from working with his father, and Flynn from doing other degrees.

The University of Tulsa doesn’t have a Native American studies program (they really should though given location and history of the school), but they do have a well-known petroleum engineering program, which is what gave me the idea of how to get Stone to school. Considering Flynn’s all about ancient history studies, surely the ancient American people he knows about too. And I’m assuming Jacob grew up somewhere out near Lawton, OK, based on the mileage he gave in “And What Lies Beneath the Stones” since the actual town Wagoner (Wagner was what they used in the episode) is about 45 minutes southeast from Tulsa.

#the librarians #the librarians fic #flynnstone #flynn carsen #jacob stone #librarians fanfic #fanfic #a. l. writes

13 notes · View notes

babyleclerc · 5 years

Text

Tequila Sunrise

Pairings: Chris Evans x Fem Reader

Style: One-Shot

Request?: No, but 100% inspired by that stupid Shawn Mendes/Camila Cabello song I will never get out of my head

Warnings: Language. Smut. Unprotected sex (woops, wrap it before you tap it, kids). NSFW. Slight dom!Chris.

Word count: 4.5K

Summary: You’ve known Chris since you were twelve. He’s always been a constant for you, never a romantic interest. But will the summer heatwave, humidity and pool time get to your head and change the way you feel about each other? Includes Anthony Mackie!

A/N: Holy shit, you guys. I’ve been working on this one all week. I won’t lie, I’m attached to this one and really hope you guys like it. :3 I’m considering doing a series tied to this -- more of what happens with Reader/Chris & potentially with Ava (bc I love her personality and modeled her off Blake Lively, if you couldn’t tell). If you liked this/would be interested in reading more in this world please comment and let me know!! Your support helps me write :))

This story truly feels like my baby so please do leave it some love/review if you liked it. Sorry if the smut sucked I hate writing it but felt like it was essential to the story jfdlakflds;akf;dsaf. Don’t hate me. ALSO, huge thank you to my #1 @deartomhardy. She helped me through this in so many ways. Hyped me up when parts of this fic made me sweaty, yelled at me when I whined about the smut. Supported me literally through it all. I love u my baby angel. <3 (Gif not mine!)

You say we’re just friends,

But friends don’t know the way you taste.

‘Cause you know it’s been a long time coming,

Don’t you let me fall.

It was hotter than all hell, and you were starting to get sick of the dry heat that was coursing it’s way through the city the past few days. Your hometown used to be so enjoyable; better weather, less traffic, less people, less lines, less noise. Now, everything was popular - and not in a cute way. The donut shop down the street you had been going to since you were five was now considered a collectible. You saw tourists at the airport with the stupid blue boxes everywhere. The quaint coffee shop that was next to a questionable Chinese restaurant had now multiplied where you could find one on almost every street corner. Even down to the people - one in particular - who used to just be a regular Joe Schmoe was now a celebrity in his (also your) hometown. Wild.

“Find any hotties out there?” You turned your head to the edge of the pool to peer through your circular sunglasses at the voice. Mackie was leaned against the cool tiles surrounding the edge of the pool, the bottom of his body enveloped in water. He turned to look at Chris who had just entered the gated pool area.

“I just went to get some beers, Mack. Chill.” Chris replied, and you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips at his response.

Local-theatre-geek-turned-celebrity did have its perks, though. For one, you were able to enjoy a private pool on a 97 degree day, well, privately. Chris’s summer home was nothing short of a resort; food at any and all hours of the day, a pool, hot tub, and theater room. The best part about the pool was that there were no kids screaming and running around, wreaking havoc. You had a barbecue all to yourself, you could blast music and no one would complain. Plus, you found yourself suddenly surrounded by far better and more interesting company.

You and Chris had always been close. That was clear to everyone around you. You went to his premieres, supported him on Broadway, stayed up with him late into the night over the phone when his anxiety got the best of him, and he was a full Country away from you. Assured him that he would have the family he’s always wanted one day. And he supported you through all your endeavors. Helped you pay your way through grad school (I have so much money, Y/N, I literally don’t know what to do with it. Let me do something good for you, just this once he’d said to you late that night on the floor of your college dorm). Listened to you when you ranted about your parents and how the planet alignment was throwing off your mood. Was a shoulder to cry on when you went through breakups. There were no secrets between you, and there was no drama.

You knew this was because the only rule you had with Chris was the one that had stood the test of time: no sex. Period. No matter how drunk you got in the college dorms or at Marvel premieres. Even if you didn’t have someone to kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Even if you were vulnerable, heart aching for some affection and non-romantic sex after your ex cheated on you. Even if you were just plain horny. No. Sex. Your 20+ year friendship had lasted this long because one person in the relationship had always stood that ground no matter the circumstances. And for that, you were so thankful. Thankful for the lack of complications and strings; thankful you had someone in your life you could be you around. It was a rarity these days.

“Beer?” Said friend asked you, sunglasses adorned his tanning face. You looked up from Mackie and nodded, stretching out a hand to reach for the refreshing drink Chris was offering your way.

“Please,” You respond, waiting for Chris to pad his way over to you across the massive outdoor patio.

Had Chris not had his sunglasses on, you would have noticed the way he was eyeing your outstretched body, clad only in a thin, navy blue bikini on the poolside chair. Your bottoms hugged your hips as if made just for you; your tousled hair touching just beneath your shoulders; stray strands innocently snuggled beneath your breasts.

He took a breath, willing himself to look away as he handed you the cool drink. You noticed the way his obliques twitched with his arm movement, and how massive his biceps were after coming off of Endgame. You had, of course, noticed your best friend’s looks before - you weren’t blind - but the heat was making you see him in a different light. You took a swig of your beer, hoping the distraction would take you away from the way a bead of sweat was falling just along his torso towards the top of his swim trunks...

“I’d love one, Chris, thanks for asking.” Your best friend, Ava, spoke out next to you.

“Did you have to bring her?” Chris teased, grabbing another beer and gently tossing it towards Ava, who lay sprawled out on a lounge chair next to you in a stunning red one piece that hugged her cleavage just right.

Ava was the quintessential best friend whose kindness and selflessness made up for the fact that any woman next to her would otherwise feel inadequate.

She had long, slender legs, carved after years of soccer, tennis, biking, and basically any sport she could get her hands on. The constant need for an adrenaline rush made her tanned skin stay year-round, which was accompanied by a moderate four pack, large natural breasts, and wavy, thick blonde hair that always fell just right. Add her bright emerald eyes and a contagious laugh that lit up any room, and she was a heartbreaker to any man that was lucky enough to be in the same room as her.

But Ava didn’t care about that stuff, and that’s what made her so special. She was selfless. She put everyone else’s needs above her own, and had kindness oozing out of her, no matter the circumstances. She went to Mexico on a UNICEF trip on a whim after reading an article about children in need on a random Tuesday morning. She put her younger brother through medical school when both of her parents passed away unexpectedly (still a mystery to everyone else how she ever managed it). She was a perfect blend of compassion and enthusiasm that attracted men who wanted to get in bed with her and women who wanted to be associated with her. And it was effortless; as if it came to her like breathing.

“They’re kind of a package deal, those two.” Mackie piped up from the pool, grinning as he unashamedly drank Ava in. He had been trying to get with her all summer, but Ava stood her ground. She wasn’t one for summer flings.

But Chris knew this already; in fact it was Ava and Chris’s friendship that had gotten you to know Chris to begin with. Your mom had forced you into 6th grade soccer (hoping you would show some sort of athletic talent in your childhood) where you had met Ava on the very first day. Chris had been on the boys team at your middle school, and Ava being, well, Ava, had already made friends with the entire team within days. Your practices were on separate fields, separated only by a goal post but always ended at the same time. You would frequently all walk home together after practice, stopping for a smoothie, donuts, or ice cream along the way depending on the weather and talking about everything under the sun. Those walks were the reason you stuck with soccer for all those years (sorry, Mom).

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Ava started, lowering her voice and leaning towards you so the boys couldn’t hear. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d say a certain someone was checking you out today.”

You rolled your eyes, but felt your heart skip a beat at the insinuation. “Don’t go starting shit, Ave. He’s seen me in a bikini a million times.”

“Yeah, and you’ve seen him shirtless a million times, too, and yet here you are gawking at him like he’s some Sports Illustrated model.”

“Am not!” You laughed, taking a drink of your beer. You noticed the way Chris’s eyebrows raised at the sound of you from across the patio; he was always in tune with you even from a thousand miles away.

“Prove it.” Ava deadpanned, swinging her legs over her chair to sit up and face you.

“What?” You asked, exhausted by your best friend’s antics.

“Prove it.” She repeated, setting her beer down on the cement. “If it’s no big deal, and you feel the same way about him you always have and nothing’s changed-” She used air quotations, referring to the thousands of conversations you’d had about Chris since you were both back visiting your hometown and hanging out with Ava, “-then swimming and playing around in the pool should be no big deal. Just another swim with your best buds.”

She had a wicked grin on her face, and you knew you were in trouble. When Ava set her mind to something, she always saw it through. No matter what.

“Please don’t do this.” You pouted, though your best friend was already standing, waiting to make her move. The pitied look on your face didn’t fool her, and you found she was ignoring you as she dramatically fanned herself, heading towards the pool.

“It’s getting a bit toasty. I think I’ll take a dip to cool off.” She announced, “Y/N, you coming?”

“I think I’m good, thanks.” You glared at her, unamused. She shot you a wink in response.

“Man, I was really hoping we could chicken fight. Evans!” Chris jumped at the sudden inclusion from the loud blonde. “You in?”

He looked up from the edge of the pool where he had been leaning against one of the railings. Him and Mackie had been discussing some latest sports announcement at length, since you had been too bored earlier to listen out at lunch.

“Mhm?” Chris asked, clearly not paying attention to Ava’s antics and shooting a look over to the both of you. You noticed the beer in his hand was nearly empty.

“Chicken fight!” Ava said enthusiastically, “Me ‘n Mack vs you two losers.”

“Alright!” Mackie shouted happily, “Now things are getting interesting. Finally.”

Chris sighed, not near excited for the fight as the other two. “You in, partner?”

“I guess.” You groaned, knowing you had no way out of both Anthony and Ava’s persistence. You pulled yourself up off the chair and stood, stretching and rolling your neck, which had been stiff from the CrossFit class Ava had forced you to earlier in the week. Your muscles still ached from the fifty minute torture session you cursed your best friend all the way through, and though you’d never admit it - a dip in the pool sounded so refreshing after nearly 45 minutes in the heat.

Chris’s eyes never left you, or the way your body was glistening in the sunlight. The summer heat was leaving your cheeks just flushed, and he noticed how the thin swim material hugged your plump ass seductively. You were oblivious. Oblivious to the beauty and perfection Chris saw in you, how your right dimple surfaced when you laughed, and your eyelashes fluttered when you slept deeply. He felt a small pang of jealousy in his gut at the thought of all the guys who had seen you that way, and wondered if they noticed all those things about you that he did.

Throughout high school and through adulthood, people had always assumed Chris was dating Ava. Whether it was friends, family, or tabloids - people always gushed over what a “beautiful couple” he and Ava made. Maybe it was because of the stark blond hair, or maybe that she was almost taller than Chris, and they appeared to be “perfectly matched”. To Chris, she was just Ava. A close, and dear friend, but no one he would ever be romantically interested in.

She wasn’t you.

---

Much to your annoyance (and to Ava’s pleasure), chicken fighting with Chris had been just as awkward as you had expected. You were acutely aware of every touch - the way his strong hands gripped your thighs when you were straddled on top of his shoulders, desperately trying to shove your best friend off Anthony’s. She was stronger than you; that much was obvious. But having Chris at the base gave you an edge, and you ended up winning more than the other pair thanks to his cheating swipes at Mackie from under the water.

While the game was innocent enough, you heart drummed loudly in your chest every time his skin made contact with yours. Several times as you fell, shoved off by Ava’s very aggressive pushes, you’d feel Chris’s strong arms envelope you, laughing and crashing into the water with you. His arm stayed wrapped around your torso, holding you easily against his hip as you pushed up for air. Water droplets danced along your shoulders as you laughed, easily wrapping your legs around Chris as an excuse for support.

Finally, after several hours of Marco/Polo, ring tossing, and shark and minnows, Anthony and Ava had tired themselves out and retired to their respective homes. You and Chris had moved to the hot tub, tucked deep into the corner of the house, where you could still see the stars. The heatwave had finally burnt off, and you felt a cool breeze rolling through the property, sending a slight shiver down your spine. You leaned your head back onto the cool, diamond tiles that lined the tub, your legs peacefully resting on Chris’s lap across from you as the jets made water bubbles all around you. You sighed, blissfully happy - nothing was better than a long, warm day at the pool with your best friends.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” Chris asked softly. His fingers danced across your legs like a whisper, his warm blues matching the color of the water just beneath his sturdy chest.

“I’ve just missed this,” You reply, raising your eyes to meet his. “Life should always be this simple.”

“It can be.” Chris retaliated, thumb now making small circles just above your ankle. You smiled softly.

“Sometimes. But other times I remember that there’s reality, and we have to work and pay bills and like... be an adult.” You sighed again, “It’s just not the same as...” You trailed off, not having the balls to finish your sentence. You awkwardly broke eye contact with him, looking down at your hands in the water.

“Not the same as what?” He pressed, hand now gripping your ankle gently. He tugged just enough to force you to make eye contact with him again.

“Real life just isn’t the same as being here with you,” You finished out awkwardly. This was uncharted territory - you’d never talked about this kind of stuff with Chris. You were always just friends, and that was the extent of it. Nothing more; and there was never really an opportunity to be more than that because both of you had never let it.

But now... now he was here. And he was so... perfect. And caring. And kind. And he listened to your ideas, beyond just wanting to get into your pants. And he knew you so intimately, it was hard to think about being with anyone else. It made you wonder if all of your past relationships had failed for a reason, maybe there was someone else you were supposed to be with, and he had been right in front of you this entire time?

Chris tugged on your leg, a little stronger this time, willing you towards him as the water bounced between you guys softly. He was closing the gap between the both of you, but the pace in which he was taking was painfully slow. You felt every second, as if it had been slowed down five times, as you inched towards him slowly.

“Chris, I...” You whispered, as his hands enveloped you, gripping your waist and maneuvering you so that you straddled his lap.

“What?” He asked breathlessly, drunk on your smell, and the way your ass was settling on his groin. His eyes still haven’t left yours, he’s testing you - daring you to be the one to pull away first.

“I don’t trust myself right now.” You reply, eyes boring into his. Your face was millimeters away from his, and you so desperately wanted to reach out and taste him; know what it would feel like to kiss those soft, pink lips.

“Just one kiss.” He breathed. His tone was more of a request than it was statement, he was begging you to give in just this once. You lifted your hands and rested them on the sides of his face, feeling his slight stubble against the palms of your hands.In the decades of knowing him, you had never been this close. You breathed in deeply, taking in his scent. You felt as though you were home. And although it was likely only seconds that passed by, it felt like it had been a million minutes all smashed into one, and you finally leaned in, closing the fraction of space between your lips.

And suddenly, you were falling. Falling so deep into Chris and your feelings it was indescribable. He tasted like a perfect blend of vanilla, honey and strawberries; likely from the massive bowl he had eaten just hours before.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you as close into him as he could. This was more than just one kiss, and both of you knew it. There was no going back now.

After a few breathy moments, Chris pulled back for air, immediately relocating his lips onto the crook of your neck, kissing every inch of your skin from your jawline down to your shoulder. Your skin felt as though it was on fire, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. You leaned into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as you let your eyes flutter closed. His hands roamed up your spine, tugging at the spandex material that was barricading him from access to your breasts.

“Not here,” You murmured, letting your head fall against his shoulder. As warm and sexy as the hot tub was, you weren’t interested in your first time with Chris being messy and wet in his outdoor hot tub. Plus, the cool breeze was starting to give you goosebumps.

He pulled away from the hickey he was working on just above your right breast. “Hold onto my neck.” He said against your skin. Wrapping your legs around his waist he easily stood, carefully maneuvering the both of you out of the hot tub and towards one of the guest bedrooms just a few feet from the hot tub. All the while his lips continued his assault on any part of you that he could, stumbling in the dark towards the massive queen bed that was enveloped in snow white sheets.

A small giggle escaped from your lips as he tripped slightly, dropping you backwards and onto the soft mattress.

“Think that’s funny?” He asked, grinning as he took in the sight of you; eyes sparkling and hair wet and wild, soaking the cotton sheets beneath you. Nothing separated him from you other than your skimpy bikini, which he was determined to pull off within minutes of having you on the bed.

“I mean, it was a little dramatic,” You teased, reaching out to grab his left arm, and interlacing your fingers easily as he leaned over, hovering over top of you. No part of you were touching just yet, other than his hand in yours. “I do have working legs, ya know.”

“Well, yes, but where’s the fun in that?” He teased, allowing himself to settle on top of you easily. He was grinning from ear to ear, and you weren’t sure if it was your ego or the heat of the moment - but you could have sown you’d never seen him this happy.

“Are we really gonna do this?” You asked softly, reaching your hand to stroke the side of his face, your eyes searching his.

“Do you want to?” He asked, ever the gentleman. Your heart was ringing in your ears, aware of the hard erection Chris was sporting through his swim trunks. It pressed against your right thigh gently. You squirmed beneath him.

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” You murmured, and that was the final confirmation Chris needed to close the gap between you two once more.

And this time was different from the hot tub. In the water you were slow, deliberate, wanting every nerve in your body to feel him against you. This was different; he was hungry for you. His hands made quick work of your bikini top, tossing it onto the floor as your lips parted to make room for his tongue.

His right hand massaged your left breast, pinching and flicking your nipple every so often. The sensation made you moan, and you arched your back in response. You could feel your pussy throbbing for him, begging him to please you, touch you.

Needing air, you pulled away from him, placing kisses along his chin and down his jawline.

“Chris,” You moaned into his ear, slightly tugging on his long, wet hair as his thumb padded your tout nipple.

“Mhm,” You were quickly realizing that Chris was going to make you beg him for this one. After years and years of waiting, he wanted to hear exactly what you wanted him to do to you. He wasn’t going to give you an easy out. Not tonight anyway.

“Please,” You begged, as his right hand moved slowly, torturously from your breast and across your tummy, running a finger along your slit over top your bottoms.

“What do you want?” He asked, nose nuzzling your neck before biting you gently.

You groaned, annoyed at the teasing. “We’ve had twenty years of foreplay, Evans. You know what I want.”

He chuckled against your skin, palming your pussy in response.

“Don’t be a smartass.” He bit your earlobe gently, running his tongue along your neck. “All you have to do is ask.”

You weren’t used to such a dominant side of Chris, but the rate in which it was turning you on was unbelievable. He was confident and sexy in the bedroom - a side of him you weren’t used to seeing. It was a relief to feel like you were being taken care of, and that your needs were coming before his. Even if he was making you beg.

Deciding that being blunt was the only way to get what you want you pushed him away from your neck gently, meeting his warm blues. There was a quick beat.

“I want you to fuck me, Chris.” It was so vulgar you felt your cheeks go warm. But if Chris was turned on before, it was nothing like the look of desperation and hunger he had in his eyes now.

He shoved his swim trunks off, freeing his cock that was standing at attention. You craned your neck to get a look, mouth practically watering at the sight. Chris yanked off your bottoms next and paused for a minute, drinking you in.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He breathed, his hands running down your sides. His hand stopped just above your folds, locating your wild eyes and watching your face as he slipped in one, two, then three fingers, testing your readiness.

You hissed, writhing at the feeling and pulled at the sheets in a death grip. After a few pumps he pulled out of you, but not after sliding his index finger once across your clit. The feeling made you shutter, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He aligned himself, pausing to soak you in. After all these years of wondering, wishing, hoping; you were all his. He didn’t have to worry about anybody or anything else. You were here, and this was perfect.

Your eyes fluttered open, wondering what the hesitation was. You knew immediately he was silently asking for permission one more time. Once you crossed this line, there was no going back. Your hand found his and you intertwined your fingers once more.

“I want this.” You whispered reassuringly.

That was the confirmation Chris needed to settle himself above you, and slide into your pussy slowly. Inch by inch you felt yourself filled up by his impressive length, and you squeezed his hand, moaning loudly.

“Jesus,” He moaned, allowing your body to adjust before beginning to fuck you slowly. “So wet.”

His mouth latched onto one your breasts, licking and nipping at your sensitive nipple as he began slamming into you with more speed. His thumb was still making fast work of your clit, and the triple combination was making it hard for you to not cum quickly.

“Chris,” You breathed, reveling in the way his cock felt inside of you. You bucked your hips hoping to allow him to penetrate you deeper.

“So absolutely perfect.” Chris kept murmuring against your skin, over and over as he kissed, licked, and squeezed every inch of you he could. He picked up the pace, feeling your walls tightening around his cock. You were dangerously close to release.

You tried to form words but couldn’t think coherently. Everything was a blur, and every nerve was on edge as you felt yourself inching quickly toward orgasm. One more thrust from Chris and you let go, crying out as your walls clenched down on his cock without mercy.

Squeezing your breast, he found your mouth and kissed you as if his life depended on it. After a few more thrusts, he, too, let out a loud groan as you felt him finish inside you.

Still seeing stars you blinked a few times, your brain trying to catch up to the scene unfolding in front of you. You had just had sex with Chris Evans. Best friend of over 20 years. Man you shared every intimate secret with. He’s seen you naked. Touched you everywhere. Came inside you. Holy shit.

Chris was still lost in his orgasm, panting slightly. He pulled out of you, rolling over to his side.

“Wow,” He breathed. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “That was…”

“Amazing?” You offered, snuggling into his chest and letting a hand dance along his skin. Your heart still hadn’t recovered from the previous cardio session, and you could feel Chris’s still racing also.

“I was gonna say mind blowing.” His chest rippled in your hand from a laugh. “But amazing works too.”

Fin.

---

Permanent Tag list: @markusstraya, @punkin-pie-mofo, @hazohazahazbro, @irishprincess9, @jedionironthrone, @aclutteredheadspace, @proud-of-being-me, @disneymarina, @dolangram, @nightcrawler0213, @thejemersoninferno, @xlemon-limex, @sadsmilesforstyles, @sleepylunarwolf, @tomssweetbouquet, @thehotstrangeryoullneverseeagain. @unfortunatelyymuggle, @knockbeforeyouspeak, @jordysgirl87, @fluasch, @tumultuous-love, @sadsmilesforstyles, @taeeemin, @taylorsreputationn, @queenmira29, @esoltis280, @dottirose, @captainrogerrsbeard, @xolilyxo, @cannonindeez, @castellandiangelo, @swimmingnacholover, @ssweet-empowerment, @notmyfault404, @taylorsreputationn, @queenmira29, @esoltis280, @dottirose, @milkshakeslou, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @patzammit, @captainrogerrsbeard, @notmyfault404, @coffeebooksandfandom, @laufeysonprince.

Please send me an ask directly if you’d like to be added or removed. If you comment on the fic to be added, I likely won’t see it, and you won’t be notified. Sorry, it’s too hard to keep track!

#Chris Evans #Chris Evans Smut #Chris Evans x Reader #Chris Evans x You #Reader Insert #Fanfiction #Fic #Fanfic #Chris Evans imagine #imagine #RPF #Chris fic mine #anthony mackie #Chris Evans fic #Chris Evans fanfic #Real Person Fiction

1K notes · View notes

jamr0ck83 · 4 years

Text

If Nobody is Racist, Then Who Exactly is Keeping Systemic Racism Going?

Everybody seems quick to insist that they’re not the ones who are racist. So, then who is? If it’s only the people you say, then why are we like this as a country?

Recently, someone with which I somewhat briefly attended grad school for education (And no, I don’t want to talk about what happened with that whole endeavor) posted the following image to their Facebook profile.

On its face, it seems like a completely reasonable and acceptable statement, and as such, it was generating some likes. At the time I first saw it, I think there were 6. But before I, too, submitted my approval of this image, I thought a little more about it, and its implications. And I realized that I didn’t really agree with it. I knew the person who posted it had no ill intentions, and I think they even found the image on the profile of another POC. But the more I reread the sign featured, the more I was sure that it was not a true statement. I knew that my stance was not going to garner nearly as many likes or other accolades as if I had posted a phrase like “Black Lives Matter”, which at this point, it seems like all reasonable people are able to agree that they do (or at least it’s the obvious appropriate thing to say in this moment). I knew I might receive some pushback or criticism, and while that did admittedly make me nervous, I knew that I needed to speak up in this way and in this moment. And I was willing to deal with whatever consequences came my way. I decided it was that important for me to make a case for a diverging opinion. So, I typed out the reply below and posted it.

I want to agree with this, but I'm not sure if I do. Please hear me out. It is entirely possible to be a Trump supporter and not be a person who has ever uttered a racial epithet or been otherwise explicitly or overtly racist. However, I do believe that there are degrees of racism, and if you're someone who has responded that "all lives matter" or "blue lives matter" when another person asserts that black lives matter, I would argue that you are on the spectrum of holding onto or entertaining some form of racist ideology. If you watched the video of George Floyd having his life choked out of him and then watched the footage of riots from that first night in Minneapolis and thought "It's a shame that guy died, but what they're doing now is uncalled for", this might indicate that you prioritize law and order (no matter how unjustly they are being enforced) over the life of a man whose only transgression was that he was black, and that, too, places you on that spectrum of racism. Racism isn't always waving a confederate flag and yelling at POCs to go back to where they came from. Sometimes, it's knowing that the politician you support will turn a blind eye to or even praise people who march around with tiki torches yelling, "Jews will not replace us" and wanting to vote for him anyway. Sometimes, it's hearing black people beg to have full access to the citizenship rights that are due them but deciding it's more important for you to vote for the guy who advocates for you to keep your semiautomatic rifle. If you are deciding that your wants (not needs) have priority over the humanity of POCs, then I would argue that you are on the spectrum of racism. And that demands some self-reflection. Complicity is part of what makes racism so destructive. What's the point of knowing better if you refuse to hold others accountable for doing better?

And then I waited. I waited for blowback. I waited for pushback. I waited for agreement. I waited for literally anything anybody might feel compelled to say. But the only feedback I received was a single “like” whereas the post itself had garnered six additional since the posting of my comment. So, people obviously disagreed with my stance but couldn’t bring themselves to make that known in any kind of direct fashion. And frankly, that concerns me. A great deal, in fact. And there are a couple of reasons why.

Firstly, and this is something of which I was starting to become more aware even months before the death of George Floyd and these subsequent protests, white people are very quick to assert that they, themselves, are not racist. They are also quick to assert that most people who look like them are not racist. According to them, hardly anybody is really, truly racist. But if that’s actually true, then why is this country such an absolute mess, and why have we been that way for centuries? It’s as if the term “racist” is being reserved for truly egregious and over-the-top cases. And everything else is just the way people are. White people seem to have a very specific and narrow idea of what racism looks and sounds like, and that allows them to never truly have to consider whether they, themselves, might be racist. Or if their family members are racist. Or if the politicians they actively support are racist. Under their definition of that word, it barely applies to anyone. And as a black woman who considers herself knowledgeable of both history and current affairs, I will confidently say that this is wrong.

I have had people who cloak themselves under the banner of liberalism say some things to me that would make me raise an eyebrow if I knew at all how to move that particular facial muscle. And no, it’s not the times when the racial epithets and slurs are used that I feel compelled to do this. It’s actually the times when I’ve made some sort of assertion about the impact of oppression on the lives of black people today, and I am met with sentiments such as “It’s not fair that we keep getting blamed for everything” or “You weren’t a slave, so the legacy of that institution doesn’t create any modern-day problems for you” or “Slavery ended over a hundred years ago, so why do you keep wanting to bring it up? Why can’t we all just move on? Life is hard enough”. (That last phrase is a direct quote from a white woman who replied to something I said on Instagram regarding the role that white women have historically played in the role of oppressing black bodies. She objected to my assertion that this is an issue that is rarely discussed, because dwelling on it would cause white women to feel discomfort, and that is in direct opposition to this silent societal code we all seem to follow that says that we must do whatever we can to prevent white women from feeling uncomfortable. Ironically, she was shutting my argument down, because it made her uncomfortable.) Also, I’ve been told that the ways in which I have experienced oppression throughout my life just aren’t true, that I must be mistaken and that I am making something be all about race when it’s not about race at all. And finally, I’ve been told the oldie but goodie “I don’t see color; I just see people”.

To the people that are brave enough to read this right now, I will submit to you that these statements and sentiments all reek of racism. Every single one of them. And every single person who uttered these phrases would have gone to the grave denying that they could be considered racist. And sorry, people who made these statements, but this assertion by you would be wholly incorrect. By so narrowly defining what racism is, we have given many people permission to absolve themselves from any responsibility for how it continues to thrive in American society. Nobody needs to look inward; nobody has to come to terms with any mindsets they might harbor that are truly problematic. And if nobody is willing to deal with anything or even acknowledge it, how are we going to change anything? If we can’t even recognize and talk about what racism is, how are we going to put an end to it? And the short answer is, we’re not.

My second concern is that, while it seemed like almost no one who saw my comment agreed with it, no one felt compelled to say anything, give any sort of reason for WHY they disagreed with it. Maybe it’s because I’m black that they felt like they should just let me get on my soapbox and say what I needed to say, and that would be their form of allyship (even though at the end of the day, them doing this was just a dismissal of everything I said so they could go on with their lives, which kind of flies in the face of being an ally). When these protests first started, I think many black people were reasonably skeptical about the degree to which we could rely on non-black allyship for the duration of however long we needed it. We wondered if the outrage and fervor exhibited was sustainable. And we wondered if white allies, specifically, were truly willing to endure discomfort if it would eventually lead to the advancement of our movement. And I hate to say it, but I feel like the instance of this post about racism and who it applies to gave me substantial reason to believe that they are not. The fact that there are people aligning themselves publicly to the BLM movement who are already seemingly unwilling to settle in their discomfort in order to be a more effective agent of change greatly concerns me. It indicates to me that for some people (not all, but some) a lot of what’s going on right now is an exercise for them in anti-racism theater. To put it simply and bluntly, they are not “in it to win it”, because “winning it” requires that they sacrifice more comfort than they are ready to do. And while that’s certainly not everybody who calls themselves an ally, I worry that it represents a substantial number of people who we are currently relying on as allies who really aren’t. And when they start drifting away from the protests and the posting of hashtags because this movement is no longer the fun, new thing we’re all doing, the people who remain are going to have to pick up the slack and work even harder to account for their absence.

To be clear, I’m not trying to knock anyone who wants to be an ally or make it seem like I want to nitpick at everyone and that there isn’t anything that any non-black ally can do that would truly please me. If that’s what you are thinking now as you read this, I would implore you to reconsider. Because that perspective is one that stems directly from the notion that we are trying to hurt people’s feelings. It stems from this idea that it is our responsibility to make our white allies feel good about what they are doing right now so that they will continue to feel encouraged, or else they will walk away. But this movement is not about pacifying white people’ feelings, whether they consider themselves to be allies or not. We are not here to make you comfortable. We are here to seek the justice that we are due. We are here to seek the rights of citizenship that we have been routinely denied. We are here to put an end to systemic racism. Catering to allies’ feelings is nowhere on that list. It’s not even a close fourth. We need people to put their own individual feelings aside (discomfort, guilt, or whatever else) and help do what needs to be done.

And I realize this might be a harsh reality check, I do, because I know that many black Americans have spent a significant portion of their lives doing whatever they could to make white people comfortable. During slavery, we performed their backbreaking hard labor so they wouldn’t have to but could still reap the financial benefits. In modern times, many of us deliberately hold back a lot of ourselves in white people’s presence, because it’s always been an expectation that successful black people who have properly assimilated in the larger American society need to make sure that nothing we do resembles anything that might make them remember that we are not the same color. For many black women, this means stifling their voices and hiding their frustrations, because nobody wants to deal with an angry black woman. For many black men, this might mean being keenly and constantly aware of their physical stature and proximity to other people, because they don’t want anyone to find them intimidating in any way. I think white people take these acts for granted because we’ve always done them, but they are not “just the way we are” or “just the way we like to be”. They are a series of survival skills that we have been forced to adhere to, because to refrain from doing so would allow others to perceive as people they’d rather not deal with, if possible. That means, we wouldn’t be the ones who get into the good school or get the good job or even get to keep our lives.

I have been deemed a quiet person my entire life, and while some of that is due to my genuine introverted nature, the majority is supplemented by the fact that, in most situations, if I am given the choice between being the quiet and unassuming black girl who nobody really has a problem with or the more vocal and passionate black woman that asserts herself but then has to deal with the consequences of nobody really wanting to be around her, I choose the former. And I started choosing it at a very young age; I was definitely still in elementary school. It starts that early. Because we know that early. We know that this country was not designed with us in mind unless it was to depend on our labor or our ability to entertain. We know that the system is literally rigged against us in such ways that, if we were to inform white people of all those facets of oppression, they would accuse us of being paranoid. Actually, that is precisely what happens when we try to tell people about our experiences of being black in America. There are a lot of people out there who are masterful at gaslighting and being utterly dismissive of our struggles. And that is a response that is literally for the sole purpose of driving the other person to the point of insanity. So, for the most part, we stopped telling you things, because you weren’t really listening, anyway. And we realized that, if we were going to make it in this country, then we really did have to work twice as hard, be twice as amiable in demeanor, and twice as resilient. Was that fair, for that to be put on us? Of course not. But we shouldered that burden. Because what was the alternative? So, we did it, and we’ve done it fairly quietly for a very long time.

But we’re tired. And we’re angry. Because no matter what we do, people keep killing us for little to no reason and then justify it to say that we must have done something to deserve it. “Well, you should’ve known that wearing a hoodie makes you look threatening.” “A toy gun could look a lot like a real gun, so that’s an honest mistake on the officer’s part.” “Oh, wait. You were minding your own business sitting in your apartment when somebody shot you? Well, were you really living beyond reproach and therefore entitled to keep your life? You sure you’ve never done anything wrong? Don’t you smoke weed sometimes?” These are the ways people have justified our deaths. And I would argue that all those statements and sentiments are couched in racism. All of them. None of it is okay, and it all needs to end. And we need everyone we can get to commit to joining us in this fight. But if you’re really going to sit there and maintain the party line that racists are really few in number and that you, the non-black ally, don’t need to consider the ways in which you might harbor some racist ideology, then you’re not ready to be an ally. And you can’t help us. And you won’t help us. Because as soon as things get a little less trendy or a little more uncomfortable, you will prioritize that over our humanity. And that, in itself, is pretty damn racist.

#blacklivesmatter #angryblackgirl #therandomthoughtsofmybrain #racism #allyship #ThisIsHowYouAlly #America #womanist #womanism #whitefragility #NoTimeToPlacateYourFeelings

47 notes · View notes

liskantope · 4 years

Text

Some briefer(?) reactions to major Disney films 1989-1998

I consider the Disney Renaissance (around the period I refer to in the above title) to have been the last official leg of my chronological journey through major Disney features through Disney+ (for this one I need to mention that I’m excluding CGI animated ones on this journey, except when I feel like watching them on the side). I logged some thoughts on the films I watched in the two earlier legs of the journey here and here, where honestly I intended my notes to be short and not turn into full-blown mini-essays for each movie. Those posts turned out to be major timesucks and I can’t afford that now, but I thought I’d jot down a hodgepodge of reactions and just be briefer and sloppier about it. I feel like I have overall less to say about this set of films anyway, since they’re pretty much all very high-quality and are talked about extensively in the cultural discourse much more than films from Disney’s earlier eras.

As I was still trying to stick to taking one day for each year in the Disney Studios timeline and major film production by Disney picked up pace a lot at the start of this era, I wound up doing a rather intense marathon of one full Disney movie each evening: over ten evenings (corresponding to the years 1989 through 1998), I watched the ten movies The Little Mermaid, The Rescuers Down Under, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Lion King, Pocahontas, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hercules, and Mulan. I would have watched Tarzan the following evening, but I had very recently sort of re-seen it when it came on Netflix -- I didn’t see it for the first time until an outdoor event near the end of grad school not that many years ago; I didn’t bother paying full attention on seeing it the second time a couple of months ago and couldn’t much get into it on the second viewing.

The thing about the ten major animated Disney movies on this list is that, while I can’t say I love all of them, the uptick in quality is dramatic right from the start and never wavers. Every single one of these films just seems objectively better than Pete’s Dragon, The Fox and the Hound, or Oliver and Company. This will help me be a little shorter-written when talking about them, as it’s easier to expand on specific criticisms than to wax on about how great something is.

[EDIT: Okay, these still turned out pretty long and more on the polished side. Guess I’m just not that capable of being brief and sloppy.]

The Little Mermaid, 1989

Although we didn’t have the video at my house growing up, I somehow knew The Little Mermaid quite well; I guess I watched it quite a few times. I went a gap of many years before seeing it again in college (I’m fairly certain that my college girlfriend and I watched it together, in fact). My reaction at the time was that although it was well enough done with good music, the story was terrible. This was right around the time I watched a performance of Once on This Island, a musical based on Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Little Mermaid” on which, of course, the Disney movie was based. I thought the tragic tale told in Once on This Island was beautiful and scorned The Little Mermaid for cheapening it. In fact, my opinion was quite scathing in the way that my opinions more often were when I was younger. So I was a little wary on watching it again.

I’ve mellowed out since my college days and don’t hate the story quite as much now -- in particular, I can’t really blame Disney for Disnifying a mature tragedy into a more lighthearted tale with a happy ending -- but I still think it’s kind of bad. We’re back to Disney princesses (I think for the first time since my first round of Disney films?), this time with a Disney princess who had goals that didn’t involve meeting her prince, until she actually meets him and every other interest, including staying in the world she grew up with where to which all the people who ever loved her or knew her are confined, giving up her voice, and drastically changing her physical form. And this is all for a prince character of flatly generic personality who is superficial and dim-witted enough that he only knows his true love by her voice. (I don’t understand why this isn’t the Disney Renaissance-era film that routinely gets criticized for being anti-feminist rather than... a certain other one also on this list.) Also, while King Triton isn’t by any means a flat character, his sudden turnaround at the end and almost lightheartedness at saying goodbye to his daughter presumably forever doesn’t quite feel right.

I was very surprised at how much I’d completely forgotten among plot events and certain scenes in the movie. For instance, as the action neared the climax, I really had no memory of how Ursula would be defeated and watching it didn’t jog my memory.

This is the first of several films on this list where I noticed a sample of what I’m starting to think of a set of 90′s sitcom/romcom tropes, in this case the situation of the romantic leads courting very publicly with all the other characters watching and cheering it on and working behind the scenes to help it happen. This shows up again in Beauty and the Beast and (to a slight degree) Aladdin below.

Great music of course, even slightly better than what I remembered. Fun fact: you know that “Part of Your World” song, almost certainly the most widely popular in the film, the one that musical theater kids at my (and maybe your) middle school always used for auditions? Apparently it was almost cut from the film, mainly because it was shown to a test audience of little kids who all fidgeted and got visibly distracted.

The Rescuers Down Under, 1990

I don’t have too much to say about this one, the first Disney sequel ever. I had only ever seen the first Rescuers before and, as my previous set of reviews indicates, didn’t particularly like it, but came in to this one a little more optimistic since some consider it better than its predecessor. They aren’t wrong -- this movie was similar to The Rescuers but better, I think. Although the villain was just as forgettable, the setting was far more enticing (at least to someone like me who has never been to Australia and thinks of it as exotic), and the dynamic between the main mouse characters was more engaging. Here we have another subplot that somehow reminds me of a 90′s-ish sitcom/romcom, with the aborted marriage proposals and a love triangle -- not that love triangles hadn’t featured in movies for decades, but something about how this one was done felt distinctly more modern.

Beauty and the Beast, 1991

Ah, this is not only one of the Disney movies I saw the most as a kid but one which has only grown on me as I’ve gotten older -- I consider it one of the most groundbreakingly beautiful of the animated classics ever made, one of my very favorite Disney productions of all time. We got the video when I was only five or so; I remember distinctly that it came out on home video (right after coming out in theaters) right around the same time that 101 Dalmatians came out on home video and that my mom explained to me that she was choosing to buy Beauty and the Beast instead because of its superior music. She was right about this -- not that 101 Dalmatians has bad music, but it’s hard to measure up to Alan Mencken’s masterful compositions for Beauty and the Beast. For me it solidly ranks in the top three Disney movie soundtracks ever, one of the others being that of Mary Poppins and the third being from an easily-predictable film later on this list.

I’m pretty sure I remember watching portions of this movie every morning for weeks before leaving for kindergarten (this is what makes me think we got it when I was five), and I continued to enjoy it throughout childhood. I next watched it when I was much older, but I can’t remember exactly when. During college I got hold of the soundtrack of the musical, which since has been one of my favorite musical soundtracks to listen to. I never actually got to see the musical until last December when it was showing in my hometown, and I thought it was excellent. Interestingly, there were a number of scenes that I assumed had been added for the musical but I had actually forgotten were in the movie -- unlike with certain Disney musical films *ahemMaryPoppinsahem*, they didn’t take many liberties with the musical except to add a number of new (very good) songs.

Leaving aside the top-notch music and exquisite animation, the story in my opinion is one of the most beautiful and distinctively memorable stories Disney has ever told, not to mention entertaining without every being silly or over-the-top. It speaks of compassion, drawing out core goodness from an ugly exterior, and the fact that, to quote the enchantress from the start of the tale, “beauty comes from within”. Belle is also, to my mind, the most feminist Disney protagonist ever to be seen up to that time, which is why I get super super annoyed that so many people point to this movie loftily shouting “Stockholm Syndrome!” I feel it’s kind of inevitable that I quickly address that here, even though I’ve brought it up on this blog several times before. (Also, for an excellent takedown of the “Beauty and the Beast is a sexist story because Belle has Stockholm’s Syndrome” take, see this video essay of Lindsay Ellis.)

When watching the musical last winter I kept an eye out for justification for the Stockholm’s Syndrome take that I might not have remembered and couldn’t find any, but it pains me to admit that I did find a smidgen of justification, for someone determined to be a bit uncharitable, in a particular bit of dialog from the movie. I don’t recall it appearing with quite that wording in the musical, although it’s entirely possible that the musical has those exact same lines and I just wasn’t being observant. Here it is:

BELLE: What did you say?

BEAST: I release you. You’re no longer my prisoner.

BELLE: You mean... I’m free?

BEAST: Yes.

BELLE: Oh, thank you. Hold on, Papa. I’m on my way. [tries to hand mirror to BEAST]

BEAST: Take it with you. So you’ll always have a way to look back... and remember me.

BELLE: [in sweet, deeply moved tone] Thank you for understanding how much he needs me.

So okay, maybe Belle comes off as showing just a bit too much unqualified gratitude here, an oversight that the writers circa 1990 clearly should have avoided in case diagnosing female characters with Stockholm’s should ever become trendy twenty-something years later. But this could be remedied by a quick rewrite of the dialog in that one scene; it’s not as though the whole plot has to be changed away from its inherently misogynistic nature.

And that’s all I want to say on that one aspect of this absolute gem of a Disney production. Despite a few minor issues I noticed, such as Maurice being a little too innocent and helpless, and it lacking my very favorite line from the musical (“Belle don’t you recognize the beast within the man who’s now before you?” at the end), Beauty and the Beast comes about as close to perfection as it gets.

Aladdin, 1992

Although I didn’t see this major blockbuster hit when it first came out -- it was probably considered a bit too intense for me at kindergarten age -- this is the first time that I was aware on some level that a particular Disney movie was a new release. (One of my few sharp memories of kindergarten recess was a boy standing on a stump or low piece of playground equipment making proclamations to passersby for minutes at a time that alternated between, “You are a street rat!”, “You were born a street rat!”, and “You will die a street rat!”, and how this made me consciously contemplate the concept of present/past/future tenses for the first time.) When I saw it, I loved it -- it was clearly the most exciting animated movie out there. At some point in childhood I thought it was bested by its sequel, but a few years later as a teenager I decided that the tightly resonant plot of the original Aladdin made it the best Disney movie ever. I’ve definitely mellowed out my opinion on this, as Aladdin certainly has flaws and some other features are more deeply meaningful to me as an adult, but I still hold up Aladdin as one of the greats. I saw at least parts of it as an adult on TV and saw it very recently prior to getting Disney+ when it appeared briefly on Netflix, but I was perfectly happy to rewatch it yet again on Disney+ the evening after watching its predecessor as Aladdin is fun and entertaining every time.

In this animated production we have finally topped The Great Mouse Detective in terms of animated action. We have topped most movies that ever came out prior in terms of a manically funny yet also soulful character in Robin Williams’ role as the genie. The story is excellent, apart from having only one female character, and my being bothered just a little by the slough of magic tricks dominating the action towards the end -- I tend to prefer universes where magic requires scholarly study and careful training (e.g. The Black Cauldron) rather than “genie points his finger at you and now you have the ability to point your own finger and make anything happen that pops into your head”. The sultan continues the trend of old man characters who are portrayed as helpless and infantile -- in this case, even more intensely, since the sultan has none of Maurice’s brilliant smarts. But I’m mostly nitpicking here -- Aladdin is well deserving of its high status in the history of Disney.

The Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993

I was very glad to finally get a chance to see this movie, because I clearly remember knowing about it from the time it was being advertised back in 1993, and I heard about it during my entire childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood. Although it seemed that most of my friends had seen it growing up, it didn’t look much like my conception at the time of a “normal movie” or even normal content, and so I don’t recall ever asking to watch it. But my recent-day self recognized that it’s quite a classic and was curious to see it.

I don’t regard The Nightmare Before Christmas as one of the really great Disney productions, but I strongly admire how original it was (particularly for its time) in every single aspect, including use of claymation, overall aesthetic, intriguing characters, and story. It was also fun to see what seems to be the only Disney musical that is done in the style of opera, that is, where the entire story is told in songs without any extended non-musical dialogs. And the songs are quite good in their own way, too. I don’t particularly want to see the film again, but I might not mind getting a soundtrack of it.

The Lion King, 1994

This is the first Disney movie -- and I believe the first movie of any kind, in fact -- that I went to see in the theater. I remember it as a powerful and sometimes overwhelming experience, but as a movie I overall liked even as young as I was. This is remarkable especially considering that much of the story feels more adult in nature than almost any other Disney animated feature.

What can I even say about this one? I think the general reaction to watching it is almost unanimously shared. My impression is that what its creators were going for, more than anything else, was epicness, and they succeeded in a way that had never been done through animation before. Apparently the entire (incredibly epic) opening number was shown as the trailer -- a questionable move, but understandably it got people very excited about The Lion King’s release.

One of many particular things that makes The Lion King stand out is the profound darkness of its main villain, perhaps the most chilling that has ever appeared in Disney. An argument can be made that not only murdering a major protagonist halfway through the movie but convincing the child that he’s to blame is the most evil act we’ve ever seen from a Disney villain. I’ve seen it pointed out that it’s vaguely ableist to give the villain an ugly scar and even make it his name. Some have suggested that they should have made the villain the handsome and strong one and given the scar to one of the heroes -- Simba or Mufasa -- instead. I’m definitely sympathetic to this point of view, and I totally agree that Scar shouldn’t actually have been someone’s name. However, without getting bogged down into something that could be a lengthy post all on its own, I strongly feel that in a way it adds to the depth of our villain’s depravity through the backstory that it implies. And by the way, his ending is probably my favorite out of the fates of all Disney villains.

The music also follows the film’s ethos of being as epic as possible (well, with the exception of a couple of the songs, but they were still fine songs). “The Circle of Life” and the instrumental music propel The Lion King’s soundtrack to possibly the very best in all of Disney.

To be sure, this movie does have more flaws than I remembered. As I said, Scar is a terrible name to give any of the characters, especially in a story where everyone else’s name comes from Swahili. Pumbaa is basically just one big fart joke. (Although, I give the writers major credit for managing to switch the tone to accommodate fart jokes within like five minutes of Scar confronting Simba over Mufasa’s death.) The video essayist Big Joel has pointed out interesting things about the story and made some rather troubling points about it, although to me that almost just makes the film deeper and more thought-provoking rather than actually worse (I see the Chronicles of Narnia this way). But overall, The Lion King has well earned its high rank on the list of highest grossing films of all time.

----------

At this point in Disney’s history and my childhood, apparently I decided that I didn’t care to see new Disney films coming out because I was content with watching my old favorites over and over, and anyway I was getting older and discovering that non-Disney movies could be quite entertaining as well. Therefore, I didn’t see any of these last four until adulthood, even though they all came out when I was still a kid.

Pocahontas, 1995

I was glad for the chance to finally see Pocahontas for the first time, unfortunately not before hearing countless references to it as being Problematic while I would have preferred to go into it completely uninfluenced by popular opinion. I had actually seen songs from it and Disney books of it as a child and it didn’t interest me at all. On finally watching the film, I found that I got what I expected on both counts: it wasn’t terribly interesting or gripping, and it doesn’t really pass the muster of today’s higher standards of responsible storytelling about colonialism.

All that really sticks out at me looking back (after some delay in writing this post, so that it was over a month ago that I watched this) is that the plot felt a bit atypical in two ways. One, a character, who is neither a protagonist really nor a villain, is killed off around halfway through -- a daring move that The Fox and the Hound chickened out of doing, but I shouldn’t have been all that surprised given that Pocahontas’ very predecessor did this with a protagonist in a much bigger way. And two, the story ends sort of anticlimactically: I can’t help feeling a bit disappointed when a big Disney animated feature doesn’t end with a lot of action, despite realizing that this more peaceful kind of ending being a reasonable alternative is basically the entire point the story wants to make.

The songs are sort of meh, at least by the high standards of Disney movies of this period. Nothing more really to say on this one.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 1996

Here is another movie that I had never gotten around to seeing before, despite having been somewhat more interested in it than I ever was in Pocahontas. And this turned out to be the main breakout attraction on this list, as I found it nothing short of spectacular (save, perhaps, the music, which was “only” quite solid, maybe not spectacular).

I would nominate this for the award of most mature movie among all the animated features included in this journey. I would almost say its ideal audience is adults, not children. It showcases an abusive relationship with enough intricate care to be worthy of analysis through abuse discourse on Tumblr. It displays lust and sexuality in a way that I don’t think I’ve never seen anywhere else in Disney animation. Its violence and political undertones are quite dark. It examines religion deeply (which is as far as I know unique in Disney), and the capacity of religion to bring out both the best and the worst impulses in humanity is exposed. Its main villain is one of the more multi-layered ones. It treats physical handicaps and deformities in quite an honest way and subverts expectations with its love plot.

Perhaps the only thing one might reasonably criticize this movie for is the characters of the gargoyles, which are clearly present to lighten the tone a bit so that the film isn’t entirely heavy and austere. But I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised -- I think the gargoyle stuff could have been executed in such a way that may have made the whole film sag, but instead they were done just right: the gargoyles are depicted as being animated only in the mind of Quasimodo. This means in fact that in a way, they actually implicitly add some gravity to his situation. (Consider that in a more typical Disney film there would have been some sort of cheesy sentient animal friend instead whose existence would not have been confined to the protagonist’s imagination.) Here I’m going to choose to ignore the fact that the gargoyles do seem to interfere in the final battle with some explosives, a possible inconsistency which is minor enough to be glossed over.

Anyway, I think before I unsubscribe from Disney+, I might just give this one a second watching.

Hercules, 1997

Although I never saw this one growing up, I did get talked into watching it by my college girlfriend who had been fond of it growing up. I distinctly remember not caring much for it when I saw it with her. My reaction at this later stage of my life is basically the same. There’s something about the animation style that I find subtly grating and distracting. And there’s something about the story itself that feels like way too light and cartoony a take on ancient Greek mythology (although it’s not like the ancient Greeks had a particularly heavy or dark mythology, and what else could I expect from Disney, really?). I guess that stories that are so explicitly centered around a young man’s quest for hero-hood and being godlike just don’t speak to me that well, and I didn’t find any of the characters that appeared to be especially memorable or engaging.

I did like the muses and enjoyed their singing but can’t say I love any of the musical numbers. So, I respect the effort and earnestness and general respect for ancient Greek culture that went into Hercules, but my overall reaction is still meh.

Mulan, 1998

I had only seen this movie once before, during a trip with some grad school friends back some years ago. One of my best friends at the time, who was with us on the trip, highly recommended it as pretty much her favorite Disney movie as she especially liked father-daughter stories. At the time, the film didn’t make a particularly strong impression on me, although I could recognize its quality. Watching it again on Disney+ has given me a deeper respect for it as having quite a good story and characterization, fine animation, and pretty decent music. I like both Mulan and Mushu as characters, and I enjoyed their dynamic.

I guess it’s telling, though, that I don’t really have all that much more to say about it. Maybe I don’t relate closely enough, maybe the movie didn’t imprint itself on me at an early enough time in my life, maybe I don’t engage that well with any plot that involves organized warfare, I don’t know. But I think I can only really like this film on a more dispassionate, intellectual level, rather than feeling touched in any kind of resonant way by it.

I think it’s interesting to note that Mulan is actually pretty rare among Disney protagonists in having two parents who survive through the entire story. And that moreover, despite it being billed as a father-daughter story to me (and I’m not denying that it is somewhere at its core), Mulan never directly interacts with her father except at the beginning and the very end.

Anyway... since watching all of these, I’ve been watching the more recent major films sort of sporadically: The Return of Jafar (a favorite of mine at some point in childhood, but with maturity I can now see why it was direct-to-video), The Emperor’s New Groove (quite good, better than expected), the first half of Home on the Range (about as bad as I expected, hence my quitting halfway through), WALL-E (as good as I remembered from when it came out when I was in college), Enchanted (one of my favorites, not on Disney+ so I got it through... other means), The Princess and the Frog (a real treat, slathered with Louisiana flavor), Tangled (sweet but nothing outstanding), Frozen (one of my favorites from seeing it in the theater; however I had never seen the first ten minutes which makes a major difference!), and Frozen II (which I had been sorry to miss in theaters last winter, a bit of a weird story but not bad and absolutely the most stunning animation I’ve ever seen). And, of course, Belle’s Magical World, the infamous mid-quel to Beauty and the Beast; this was not a major film but I just had to see if it was as legendarily bad as people say and, yes, it was.

I’m very glad to have been able to get a break from Netflix by taking a tour through the main history of Disney -- including many childhood memories, would-be childhood experiences, and more modern things from my adulthood -- thanks to Disney+.

18 notes · View notes

friendlyfacestabbing · 4 years

Text

Swords Jacket: Roman’s Sash

okay, remember how waaaay back in the planning stage I said I didn't have much of a clue for incorporating Roman's sash and braid into the jacket?

that's entirely true

I knew I couldn't use an actual sash because things sewn onto the outside of jackets made for routine stabbing do not last long, and actually make things more dangerous for me and anyone else (like, you go in for a grapple, the Last Thing you want is big loops hanging off to get tangled in)

but fabric paints exist. and embroidery is A Thing. personally I prefer embroidery (and it'll have to be machine embroidery as hand embroidery is not an option)

but here's the thing: I don't know if the sewing machine I'm using can do it. I don't have a design. I don't know how to embroider.

I go to a dedicated sewing shop to see if the folks there have any advice or pointers.

them: hang on a second *gets one of the displayed sewing pieces, a fabric journal cover with gorgeous intricate machine embroidery across it* me: oh! Yes! Like that! That's exactly what I want to do! :D them: this was sewn on a $3000 state-of-the-art machine by a seamstress with over thirty years experience in the industry as their final work for their textiles post-grad degree. me: ah.

time to break out the fabric paints right?

WRONG

what do we do when we're scared and procrastinating?

we Research. *cracks knuckles* let's get started.

first: make sure the sewing machine can do the embroidery. okay so all the sewing I've been doing to this point has been on my housemate's sewing machine, a nice new shiny modern thing. unfortunately, it's a bit limited in the amount of tweaking you can do to your stitch settings, but maybe it'll do for the embroidery thing?

hmm. nope. it'll only give me these three options^, and none of them will work.

maybe a different machine.... my machine; an ancient thing, gifted to me by a crone from lands I have not travelled in many seasons. it predates the internet. when it was built the Berlin Wall was still up. ancient I tell you. being older it's a bit more versatile with stitch options, so I can do this:

embroidery capable machine acquired!!! (also I've decided to use two threads on top, as that will make the stitches more visible)

second: find a design. so I spend May researching embroidery throughout history. there is a lot. and some of it is very old and crazy unbelievably stunning.

like look at this^ that's hundreds of years old and was done by hand using plant dyes and it still looks incredible!

Holy random botany detour Batman!!! at the same time I make the happy but seemingly unrelated discovery that the acanthus plant has been a feature of decorative motifs since ancient Greece. the Romans adapted this motif from there, aaaand then it keeps on showing up through history. it goes through evolutions in style (Baroque, Ancient, Gothic, …Romanesque) and is used on everything from embroidery to architecture to calligraphy to home decorating.

(acanthus thru the last 2000+ years^) and people still grow it today!

So. a decorative motif stretching back to Ancient Greece and Rome. with a huge application during the Medieval period, an interpretation in almost every Western historical period since then, use in a really diverse range of creative endeavours, and a stylistic variation literally called “Romanesque”.

also, I really like plants. :D

this focusses my searching somewhat. I collect reference pics of acanthus motifs from all over the internet. everything from quilting patterns to photos of extant garments to calligraphy sketches to scans of 19th century sewing manuals. I end up with a folder of roughly 700 embroidery concepts. then I take my concepts and narrow down to a few of the best options:

a hand embroidery pattern

a medieval manuscript from 1304

some acanthus border sketches

probable designs found!!!

third: practise embroidery. only way I'll learn to do embroidery, is by, y'know, doing embroidery. I do a few of these practice runs on fabric scraps:

and then the Main Test. the full embroidery design. I'll use one of my op-shop denim jackets to try the design on, as it's a similar fabric weight, and manoeuvring a full garment is part of what will make the real thing hard so, may as well get used to that as soon as possible.

first design is a bust. too detailed and intricate. I get the scroll in the blue rectangle sewn down with much swearing and agony, and then give up. I love the design, but it's not worth it.

second? WORKS. (you may remember a brief post from last month in which I was yelling about a major breakthrough? this is That)

I now have an awesome embroidered denim jacket, and a working design for my swording jacket. :D

the design is inspired by the border of a page from a 1304 manuscript of German medieval poetry called the Codex Manesse. look at this page! that's gold leaf!!! and it's in such good nick for a manuscript of that age!!!

I've sketched out a version I can use, resized it, made a stencil of it, and traced it onto the paper I'll use to transfer it to the jacket. Next up, embroidering the real thing. I’ve got this. >:D

#ts sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #I wrote a thing #swording jacket #roman sanders

20 notes · View notes

jannwrites · 4 years

Note

thank you for the writing resource! are you open to talking about your grad school experience? what you did, what you wish you had known, how you prepped for grad school, what you did in grad school, etc...

hey yeah, i can talk about that!! this is gonna get long!! buckle up!!

( for reference, i am a recent msw graduate, a csw, and a practicing substance use disorder therapist )

quick disclaimer that i obviously know way more about msw program requirements than anything else but as far as i know, other programs that will get you into mental health therapy ( ms in mental health counseling and what have you ) have similar requirements. program requirements also vary across country, state, and university.

first thing’s first: look at program requirements as early on as you can to learn about their pre-requisites!! if you’re currently working on your bachelors degree, this is a great time to start knocking out those pre-requisites. most programs i looked at required statistics for behavioral science, research for behavioral sciences, human development, and abnormal psych before entry into a grad school program.

a bachelors degree at minimum is required, obviously. what you have a bachelors degree in doesn’t matter too much, as long as you have those pre-requisites and experience in behavioral / mental health ( THIS IS SUPER IMPORTANT i’ll talk abt it in a minute ). there were people in my program with degrees in sociology, anthropology, human development, psychology, there were even a few people with degrees in journalism in my cohort!! one lady in my cohort had been a post-partum nurse for a long time before deciding to go back to school for social work. i personally have a bachelors degree in psychology and a minor in autism studies. the world is your oyster, baby.

all the programs i looked at required a 3.0 gpa but, even more importantly, they were looking for PRIOR EXPERIENCE in mental / behavioral health!! i worked full time while working on my bachelors degree with autistic youth and adults with intellectual disabilities. i also did some volunteer work at a crisis hotline and a lgbtq+ resource center. while i was in grad school, i worked full time as a front line staff at a substance use disorder treatment center. a lot of the people in my cohort had similar experience. not all of them worked while doing their bachelors degree. for msw programs specifically, they’re going to ask for references, and at least ONE of those references HAS TO BE A FULLY LICENSED AND PRACTICING LCSW. networking is important!! if you can’t work or volunteer while you’re working on your bachelors degree ( and i fully understand if this is the case, working full time and going to school is not for most people ), i would recommend a gap year or two to get some experience.

something else that was SUPER helpful for me in my undergrad was a grad school and career prep for behavioral sciences course that i took. because it was a behavioral sciences course, it counted as an elective and therefore counted towards the credits needed for my degree.

references, a personal statement, and a case study are standard for grad school applications. the university i went to required an additional timed ethical essay. this is also why it is important to look into grad school programs early on!! make sure you know priority deadlines and final deadlines.

grad school itself is a whole other beast. i decided to stay in state for grad school because in-state tuition is way cheaper and i did take out loans to pay my rent while i was going to school. nice little perk of pursuing social work though is that there are plenty of agencies out there that offer tuition reimbursement. as previously mentioned, i was also working nearly full time to pay my other bills. i did not have a life. i also gained 20 lbs and lost a lot of hair. this is normal.

again, depending on your program, the time you spend in school will vary. i did a 2 year full time msw program. i know ms of mental health counseling programs are generally 3 years full time. if you decide to go part time, you’re looking at 3-5 years in grad school.

on top of classes, you are expected to complete PRACTICUM HOURS. one program i looked at also required a thesis on top of practicum hours, i do not believe this is standard but if it is, Disgusting. but basically, you’re going to be doing an internship while you are in school and you have to have a certain number of hours in order to graduate. my school required 1,050 hours to graduate. during our first year, we did 15 hours a week and during our second year, we did 20 hours a week. we had the option to do our internship hours during a summer block, which was 40 hours a week during the summer semesters. most of our actual classwork was, while definitely time consuming, honestly pretty simple. those internship hours are more important than anything. i can’t speak for other universities but my university was partnered with local agencies and we would sit down with our practicum advisors, talk about our post graduation goals, and choose our top 5 agencies from there, which made the process of finding an internship fairly simple. practicum counted towards required credits though so if you were going full time, you were taking 12 credits of classes and 3 credits went towards practicum.

for as Much as grad school was, i honestly really enjoyed my experience. my program was really awesome, my professors were very knowledgeable and supportive, and i made lifelong friends. i do not miss it.

this is a lot!! it is confusing!! it is overwhelming!! you will do great!! i probably missed things!! my ask box is open.

#grad school #grad school prep #msw student #mental health therapy #college prep #university prep #what does one even put in the tags here??#grad school's stupid but do it anyway?? lmao #so u wanna be a THERAPIST?????#* mine.

4 notes · View notes

officialcolumbiauniversity · 4 years

Text

impostor syndrome in STEM

This is a post I wrote before Columbia required students to move out due to the pandemic.

February 25. I thought I’d write about this because I was reading a blog post about impostor syndrome to make myself feel better and remembered I have a blog. And people would probably like to hear what I’m thinking.

I spent all of yesterday in lab, which if you don’t remember from my last post is brand-spankin’-new and super fancy and is all sorts of out of my league knowledge-wise. My PI and I chatted about what project I’d start working on, and afterwards I stuck around to ask him questions about the laser lab because I realized that I wasn’t really asking questions when it was him and the grad students with me. So I felt safe asking the questions I did, which included “why don’t we have to lint-roll our entire body if we have to dust our shoes before entering the lab?” (the answer was efficiency) and “what’s the point in having two lenses if one makes the laser smaller and the other just makes it bigger again?” (the answer had something to do with focusing and cleaning the beam) and other questions that I thought were inane and stuff I should have been able to understand from the papers I read. He was very nice about answering all my questions and walking me through a dumbed-down version of optics in general.

I told my PI after that I don’t ask a lot of questions in lab because I can’t tell the difference between questions that I should know the answer to and waste everyone’s time, and questions that would actually create productive discussion. And he responded that there’s no such thing as a dumb question, which of course I already know since professors say that all the time. But I didn’t realize until this morning how much I do believe there is such a thing as a dumb question, and that I ask too many of them.

The thing is, I truly feel as though I’m not smart enough to make it as a scientist. I feel like everything I think of has already been thought and answered, and I can’t remember the last time I had an original thought. I feel like I ask questions that a tourist would ask, not questions that someone about to get involved in the research would ask.

I think that this blog makes me look like a STEM major who knows what they’re doing and is enthusiastic about their career as a scientist, wherever it may take them. But I just want to make it clear that I am not effortlessly enthusiastic about it: most of the time I’m paralyzed by fear about not making it into a top 10 chem grad school and then either becoming a lab tech for the rest of my scientific career or going into a different field and wasting this expensive-ass degree. I have a sub-3.0 GPA, and it’s preventing me from applying for fellowships that literally everyone seems to do, like SURF in the bio department, which sophomores and freshmen get effortlessly. I’m terrified for this summer because if I don’t figure something out soon I’m going to waste the last summer I have, the only summer where I can actually create connections and a network to figure something out post-grad. And obviously I can’t apply to grad schools with a 2-something GPA. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.

But it’s not just my GPA that bothers me. These classes I’m taking, like right now I’m taking linear algebra and physics, should be easy As. I love both subjects and I feel like I’ve mastered the material we’ve covered so far and I feel confident solving p-sets. But when I go to pick up my graded p-sets, I have to flip through everyone else’s 15/15s and 41/42s to find my 9/15 and 38/42. These are classes that I’m over-prepared for, classes that are filled with freshmen, classes where professors go out of their way to help everyone get the highest grade possible. And to see myself get average and below-average grades is bewildering and beyond disheartening.

I try to make myself feel better by reminding myself “science isn’t about good grades it’s about being a curious and thorough researcher,” but then I come into the research lab and can’t think of a single other question than ones about the technicalities of the lab set-up. I ask about mirrors and lasers and why the room is always dark, when I feel like I should be asking questions about -- well I honestly don’t even know. Like the math or concepts or something. I ended up dropping a class that I was really excited about taking this semester, because it’s a grad course and I felt uncomfortable asking questions so I just fell too far behind. Other students asked really thoughtful questions and I just asked questions about notation.

So, yeah. That’s how I feel a majority of the time. I wonder every day what makes me cut out for my major, and if I’m trying hard enough. I don’t even know if I should be going into academia, because I’m not exactly excited by the idea of being plagued with impostor syndrome my whole career, no matter how many other people also experience it.

But I haven’t ever stopped trying in my major. And I guess that’s my point, at least of this post: I’m hopeful that science isn’t about having the grades or knowing everything, in the long run. I’m hopeful that whatever I have right now is worth something, and that I’ll be able to build a career I love on top of it. But the purpose of this post was just to let you guys know that for many undergrads here preparing for STEM careers, there’s no amount of prestige that can get rid of these insecurities. For example, even if I did get into my dream grad school (Stanford), I’d be constantly worried that I fluffed my application to make myself look good and they let me in unwittingly. So, no, being in a major I love doesn’t protect me from all the post-undergrad anxieties.

Update: it’s March 29, the day I’m posting this, and as you well know COVID-19 is in full swing in the US. Columbia was quick to send all students home, and ultimately decided that this semester would be graded on a pass/fail basis for all students, with no exceptions. If you’re unfamiliar with the system, the key piece of info is that Pass grades have no weight on your GPA, but Fail grades do (as a 1.0). Many people argue that a mandatory P/F system is beneficial to students who can’t study under their current situations, and I agree with that. I personally can’t study effectively in my situation. But I’m also panicking over the fact that I won’t be able to boost my GPA this semester, leaving me with a shitty GPA for yet another year (if we return in the fall). Many internships I was in the process of applying to will be revoked, if not because of the pandemic then because my personal statement claiming “my GPA by the start of this internship will have been brought up by my efforts this semester” will be absolutely inaccurate. Applying to grad school in the fall is a laughable wish; I’ll need to take a gap year most likely, since I won’t be able to land a job. What I really need is for Passes to weigh as 4.0s, but I doubt the university will do that. Anyways, that was just an update on the GPA part of the rant above. Hope y’all are staying safe.

18 notes · View notes

parniarazi · 4 years

Text

realignment + growth

I haven’t wrote here or in general much lately, as school and worked have picked up and kept me busy, even with doing it all from home! Pandemic aside, the world is moving quickly and it’s hard to keep up sometimes. Especially when big moments happen (like RBG passing), it can feel overwhelming and like nothing we can do matters. What helps me when I feel in over my head is just purging it all with a deep self-reflection that helps anchor me down to what I’m doing towards on a daily basis and how that’s working for me in the big picture. Going back through this blog, I briefly looked over what I wrote at the turn of the year, as 2020 was beginning. Even though things have felt very different and stagnant this year, I realized I’ve actually grown so much and come so far even in this short time!

A year ago right now, I was going through one of the most difficult times of my life, as major shifts were happening in all areas of my life. I had breezed through most of my undergrad, always feeling like school came rather easily to me and academia was an area I wanted to pursue because of this. I didn’t know what to do after graduation, reconciling between wanting to find a “good paying” job with my degree/interests, and wanting to do something that aligns with what I’m passionate about and can bring me a deeper sense of fulfillment. Since I was doing well in school and professors encouraged me when I told them I wanted to go to grad school‚ I figured pursing my PhD and becoming a professor was the way to go. I idolized my professors and loved my campus, so it wasn’t hard to envision myself doing this...at least until I actually started my grad program in political science. Last fall, I was failing and withdrew from a class for the first time, was concerned about having to pay back my scholarship for the semester, and had no idea what I would do if I left my program. I was desperately searching for a way out because I knew I could not thrive (or even survive) in the environment of my grad department— it was revealing some ugly realities and turned out be the opposite of everything I wanted in a career!

Fortunately, being on campus, I was able to talk to other people and departments and eventually found my home in the Communications grad program. I had a cross-listed class, and the Comm students were friendly and inviting, so I began talking to them and found out more about their program. They still seemed to have a soul unlike my own peers— so that was already a good sign! I definitely wanted to keep my soul and work in a field that would respect and pay me for my work. Keep in mind, while all this school/career crisis of wondering what I should do with my life was happening, it was also my first few months being moved out my parents house and living with my boyfriend for the first time. I was missing my family constantly, and adjusting to my new home/life while struggling with horrible anxiety that weighed me down like bricks on my chest.

It got to be too much sometimes— especially because on top of that, my income was tied to my school because I had just started as a graduate assistant in an office on campus. This was also my first real “job,” outside of what I considered to be my “fun college job” teaching swim lessons. Not only did school suck at this time for me, but I also hated this job and the people in my office. It worsened my anxiety, and I ended up going to the school clinic and getting a formal diagnosis (and medication) for anxiety for the first time in my life, even though I’ve dealt with it for as long as I can remember. This was a big step and turning point, because I refused to compromise my mental health and wellbeing for anything. A career that comes at such a cost is not for me— having balance and self-care are far too important to me.

While all of this was happening, I kept pushing my political science advisors to help me and connected with the Communications department about getting into their program instead. I had to advocate for myself harder than ever and push other people to help me, but in the end it was worth it! I finished the semester with the 2 courses I kept, managed to keep getting paid even though my position required full-time enrollment, and I ended up getting accepted into the Comm program by transferring instead of having to wait until the next fall to reapply. With my anxiety, and just being a more a shy/introverted person who was so scared I’d hardly ever speak up in class, I had to find my voice, create my own boundaries, and talk to adults I felt really uncomfortable talking to at first. Big lesson: you have to advocate and speak up for yourself until people see and hear you! It is always worth it, regardless of if you get what you want or not.

I started off the spring in my new program and settled in so much better from the start! I also kept my campus job I hated, but was searching desperately for internships and opportunities to get some actual Comm experience under my belt, as I was entering a new field I had zero experience in. I applied for everything I could and I got a little side gig working as a part-time student organizer for an intersectional feminist non-profit based out of Austin. I was super stoked to just get to do something I’m passionate about and get paid for it, even it was small. Little did I know, this would lead me to big things! Even with the pandemic hitting in the spring, I managed to finish my courses with A’s, work from home with my campus job (no more depressing office vibes!), and apply for dozens of internships. I ended up getting two remote internships over the summer that paid me— one with the same non-profit I was working with as a Digital Intern and another similar position with a different non-profit. I was finally gaining some of the experience and skills I really needed to start a career in this field. Even though the non-profit route was not what I had in mind, I loved my internships and the teams I worked with, and it was so rewarding.

It wasn’t easy working long hours from my laptop on my dining table, but it did have its own perks. No bras or dress pants or waking up early to get ready and drive in traffic— it’s a hell yes from your fave introvert! Another pandemic-inspired moment was finally getting a dog! Even through this seems irrelevant it actually was really in perfect alignment with what I wanted and timing. I’ve wanted a dog for as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved animals and with my anxiety it was something I hoped would help at least a little bit. My parents never wanted us to have a dog and I grew up with them telling me it was a huge responsibility so even after I moved out I hesitated and wanted to give myself time to adjust and make money before taking on that responsibility. This summer, I started pushing my boyfriend to look into fostering programs to help me adjust to having a dog at home, and we did but had no luck. One day, I saw a friend posting about a lost dog they found who needed a home. She was cute and I wanted to go see her just to scope it out, and of course the universe brought the most perfect little dog into my life at the most perfect time!

I was just finishing up my internship and had a few weeks of down time before the semester started, so it was the perfect time to adjust to having my new dog, Sage, around. Since then, we’ve bonded so much and I love just having another little creature around the house! She really does bring warmth and light into my life. She pushes me to get outside more even when I feel shitty, she makes me have a more consistent routine, and just helps alleviate my stress while connecting me with my inner child and inner caretaker at the same time. During the latter half of this quarantine, my boyfriend and I also had our share of struggles and fights we had to work through. Like anything worth having, it took effort to work through some rough patches, but at the end of the day I believe in the power of love and its ability to persevere and heal, even in the most difficult times. Not to mention, having our little Sage around even helped us through it! This taught me to trust that the right things will happen in the right timing, and the right people will make an effort to stick it out with you.

I was incredible lucky and blessed that several things I was manifesting and working hard towards happened in perfect alignment. First, I got a scholarship from my grad school that allowed me go back full-time and only have to pay half of my tuition (big plus since I was paying this myself). Secondly, one of the ladies I had worked with during my Digital internship found another position and was leaving the non-profit I had worked with, and she recommended me for a part-time version of her position. They extended me this offer shortly before my semester started for school. I planned to keep my campus job, since it was staying remote too, and I wanted to stack up some savings after the COVID-life lessons I’d been learning. I knew it was going to be a challenge to maintain the personal/self-care balance I need in life with my now full-time class load and 2 part-time jobs. However, I felt so fortunate to have these opportunities while so many people across the country are struggling to keep normalcy going or even stay afloat during this time. Especially not being able to travel, go out much, or do other things, I figured what better time than now to just buckle down to work hard and make major moves towards what I want.

The universe is blessing me with this alignment and opportunity right now— it’s giving me everything I worked for in this past year. Especially with my new job at the non-profit, the team is incredibly kind but also puts serious support behind their staff. They’re paying me pretty well, but also want to transition me to a full-time staff member at their Austin office after I graduate! They’re mentoring me and teaching me so much, plus I’m getting to know a network of professionals who work in organizing, advocacy, and other important work that directly helps people! Like I literally could not have asked for anything better and more me! Life lesson: It’s worth struggling for a bit and diving into the unknown as long as you feel like it’s the right thing to do for you.

My parents had wanted me to stay in the PhD program. I knew in my gut and heart that it wasn’t going to work for me though, so I split the second I could. I trusted myself, advocated for myself, and worked through the scary uncertainties about if I would ever find a job I liked and that paid me well. I knew changing career paths would give me a chance to open myself up to new things that align better with who I am and what I desire in life and work. Here I am a year later, and I wouldn’t have gotten any of these amazing opportunities if I hadn’t trusted myself and worked hard to forge my path. Although this year turned out to be nothing like what any of us had planned, I’m so privileged and lucky that it turned out to be a year of incredible milestones and growth for me nonetheless!

Today, with this new moon energy and the powerful seasonal shift of fall on the verge of unfolding, I felt the need to make these reflections as a reminder to myself that hard work pays off. Doing what’s right pays off. Doing work that matters really fucking pays off. Fall is a special season that allows us to harvest the seeds we’ve sown all year. It’s cheesy, but I’m a sucker for being in tune with nature and the seasons, trusting each season will bring its own negatives and positives that foster growth or death in the right places, restoring a greater balance in the ways that we need.

With each season, I am growing into a stronger, wiser, more beautiful version of myself. I am deeply grateful for everything, both the good and bad in my life, because every detail is a puzzle piece that allows for the big picture of my path and place in the world to unfold. I’ve also been fostering patience and maturity, as I navigate this pandemic world and knowing (unlike many other people my age) that as much as I miss the “normal world” too, it’s not worth risking my own health or the health of anyone else to have “fun.” I can reinvent the ways in which I bring joy and fun into my life, while staying safe and trusting that those moments and activities will make their way back in my life eventually as things get better. It’s all temporary.

I am unshakable in my roots and focused on what is important. My vibe is so strong and beautiful, it’s no surprise that I’m not for everyone! Of course, there are areas like friendships and my social life that I’ve put on the back burner for now, but I know as I’m working on myself and just being authentic in putting myself out there, the right people will make their way into my life at the right time! Growing up is strange anytime but especially in this moment, and in some ways I’ve grown apart from who I thought I was, but I also feel more connected to myself than ever. I am healing each day with the light and love in my life— I don’t need anyone’s approval and have nothing to prove to anyone but myself!

My value and my place in the world doesn’t require anyone’s approval and is not tied to down to any single thing. It comes through in the love I give and receive, it comes through in the way my soul feels when I wake up, it comes through in the literal beauty I get to experience in the world. I went through a negative slump in the late summer and my anxiety was majorly triggered these past several weeks as I re-adjusted to full-time school and my work. This new moon has brought great clarity, a sense of deeper renewal, and turning a new leaf as I return home to myself. To my positive outlook and perseverance that has brought me to this point. Life is nothing without the little moments of joy and love— again, just let me corny and say that aligning back to being present and enjoying those little things is really all that matters.

My past self would be so proud of me and where I am today. I worked for and earned every beautiful moment that comes my way, and I intend on giving that back to others. Every ray of light that enters me, every penny of abundance I receive, I intend on reflecting right back, because nothing is meant to just be absorbed. It’s nothing unless it’s reflected back into the world in meaningful ways, whether those are tangible or not. I trust that I am making my mark by simply being me and being that reflection. This is how history changes course, and patterns are broken with new ones created. I’ll end with a few manifestations and mantras for this fall-winter season we’re entering!

M A N I F E S T A T I O N S

☽ The people will win, because our power truly is greater than that of those in power. We all deserve better, and so many people are putting in tireless work to make that better world a reality. Thing may not be perfect, now or ever, but making progress and supporting those who need it the most is always a win and it is coming our way because there is a shift happening that the world will have to keep up with.

☽ I will reconnect with my more creative side, allowing my potential to shine through even more. Whether it’s for work or for my own hobbies, I will continue finding outlets for myself to create things that feel authentic and important to who I am, but to also fill in gaps where I feel like others need it.

☽ I will stay rooted and grounded in my spiritual practices, even when they’re the easiest things to give up when life gets busy, that just means they’re even more necessary to stay connected with! I will make time for journaling, playing, meditating, yoga, cooking, and other activities that bring me in tune with my natural state as a human.

☽ I will connect and find community. Through being my most authentic self and working through my scars, my negative patterns, and my own blocks, I will find a sense of community with others and find people on my same wavelength who I can connect with. No expectations in mind or idealized version of friendship in mind, just pure desire to connect with others and mutually contribute to each others’ lives in positive ways

☽ Love will persevere and heal as its meant to, in both my relationship and family. Everything will be okay and work out just fine, if not better, than I expect. Pavel and I will be okay and keep growing together, and my family will be okay in staying healthy and strong through this time as something better arises for my dad’s work situation.

M A N T R A S

☽ I am focused on what matters right now.

☽ I am strong, powerful, and capable of doing what I set my mind to.

☽ I have a kind and beautiful energy that anyone would be lucky to have.

☽ I can find presence and joy in the little moments.

☽ I can find patience and trust that everything will happen as its meant to.

#reflection #2020 life #words #personal #new moon

2 notes · View notes

superlinguo · 5 years

Text

Linguistics Jobs: Interview with an Internet Linguist

If you’re a regular reader of this blog then Gretchen McCulloch will already be familiar to you as the other half of the Lingthusiasm. While the podcast is something I do alongside an academic job, Gretchen is a full-time pop linguist. She runs the blog All Things Linguistic, has a regular column with Wired and her book Because Internet: Understanding the New Rules of Language is out on the 23rd of July. It’s particularly delightful to include Gretchen in the Linguistics Jobs interview series because I started doing these after a chat with Gretchen about how we need more stories about how people use their linguistic skills in different jobs.

What did you study at university?

I did my undergrad at Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario, Canada where I got a Bachelor of Arts (Honours) with a major in linguistics and a minor in World Language Studies. I'd actually been planning on doing a minor in French and was just filling my electives with other language courses but then they rolled out the World Language Studies minor right before my final year and I already had the right credits for it, so I changed my minor on paper. I thought about this with great care at the time, but the difference has never mattered.

I then did a Master of Arts in linguistics at McGill University in Montreal, where I still live. I started my blog, All Things Linguistic, while I was in grad school, which was how I got started writing for a general audience. The blog led to my current career more directly than the schooling did, although I couldn't have done either kind of writing without the academic background. The socialization of grad school was very useful as well: learning how to feel comfortable at an academic conference and how to self-manage on a large research/writing project. I also did a ton of public speaking as an extracurricular activity all the way through, which has been incredibly helpful, both directly for giving talks and also indirectly for media, teaching, and the podcast.

What is your job?

I call myself an internet linguist because I analyze the language of the internet, for the people of the internet. I think linguists have an ethical responsibility to make our work useful to the communities that we serve, and for me that generally looks like producing accessible linguistics resources online and defending internet language in popular media.

When I was writing and editing the book, I had a daily to-do list with the same thing at the top every day: work on the book! But in order to make such a massive task manageable, I broke that down into both effort-based goals (checking off each pomodoro of time spent) and results-based goals (such as rewriting a particular section). Now that I'm working on multiple projects at once rather than one enormous project, I've switched to weekly to-do lists: a given week will generally contain a few things I need to do for the book, a few things for the podcast, a few things for an article I'm writing for Wired or a consulting project, some media calls or meetings, and some general admin. (I also have a weekly section called "fun" because that's an important part of a healthy lifestyle!)

When I'm home, I'm either working from my home office or from a coffeeshop, and Twitter and Slack are kind of my "virtual water cooler" for when I need a dose of social interaction. When I'm travelling, it's generally for a conference where I'm giving a talk and having conversations with people for the entire day, which is pretty much the exact opposite and then I have to make sure I get breaks away from people. I like to keep a certain travel-to-home ratio – enough to keep things exciting without being so much that I'm run off my feet.

How does your linguistics training help you in your job?

My linguistics training is crucial! It's becoming less and less common for public commentators about language to have zero linguistics background and I think this is a positive trend. I have the background to go directly into academic papers and books in any subfield of linguistics, and I have a deep network of linguists who I've seen give talks or chatted with about their projects over the years – I never know when something I vaguely heard about five years ago is going to turn out to be relevant.

What I notice is, because I have a linguistics background, I'm comfortable claiming certain things about language on my own authority. When I quote another person in one of my articles, it's because that person has specific expertise – I don't need to find a secondary source to quote for basic background information that any linguist would know or for analyses that draw on general principles of linguistics. Indeed, I'm often a secondary source that journalists without linguistics training go to for quotes. I also see all my articles through a linguist lens, which means that I'm inspired to write about topics that linguists know are interesting but the average person doesn't even realize might exist, and that I can avoid perpetuating the same old myths and misconceptions that often show up in language media.

What was the transition from university to work like for you?

How I got started in my job is somewhat unusual, so I actually ended up writing an extended blog post series about Weird Internet Careers.

Do you have any advice do you wish someone had given to you about linguistics/careers/university?

I wish I'd known more about the breadth of writing styles that were available. The only kind of journalism that I was taught about in school was reporting, where a non-expert goes out with a notebook to interview witnesses and writes an "inverted pyramid" style article about what happened. I didn't know about the "explainer" style of article, which takes a deeper and less time-sensitive dive into why or how something works, until much later, when I was basically already writing them. It turns out that I have very little interest in reporting on current events (and let's face it, there isn't a ton of language news), but I'm always interested in the question of how and why language works, and answering it in ways that are exciting for non-specialists keeps me fired up about the big questions of our field.

In retrospect, when I was first getting into linguistics, I was reading a lot of science communication about linguistics, but I didn't know that this was the name for the genre or that you can get a whole degree in SciComm (often a masters after doing a bachelors in a specific science). And SciComm as a field is often more focussed on subjects like physics or biology, so I've been using the word LingComm to draw attention to linguistics communication as a subset of science communication. I'd encourage anyone who might be interested in writing for a general audience to follow journalists, editors, and scicommers on twitter to get a sense of what that area can look like.

Any other thoughts or comments?

l also post linguistics job related information at allthingslinguistic.com/jobs, including some interviews and advice posts on specific aspects of explaining linguistics for the general public. In particular, I'd recommend my post Linguistics + X, about finding interesting jobs at the intersection of linguistics and your other interests, and my series on how to do LingComm.

Previously:

Interview with a Lexicographer

Interview with a Journalist

Interview with a PR Consultant

Interview with an Agency Owner & Executive Editor

Interview with a Freelance Editor, Writer and Trainer

Check out the Linguist Jobs tag for even more interviews

#language #linguistics #linguistics jobs #lingjobs #linguist jobs #lingcomm #scicomm #internet #internet language #author #writing #book

157 notes · View notes

starbladek · 5 years

Text

50 questions

1. What takes up too much of your time? Youtube, and working on projects

2. What makes your day better? Getting direct messages from people I care about, and also making visible tangible progress on my projects

3. What’s the best thing that happened to you today? Someone I care about asked if they could come over tonight

4. What fictional place would you like to go to? The world of Terraria, but like only if I could go with my friends and then leave once we’re all done with it

5. Are you good at giving advice? Probably not, I frequently feel like I’m choosing the bad dialogue choice in a telltale game when trying to convey how I feel about a person’s situation and what I believe they should do

6. Do you have a mental illness? I default to saying no until proven otherwise. Part of me thinks I’m manic bipolar to some degree, and I apparently display a lot of behaviours that would indicate I have some level of autism, but I’m gonna continue saying no until I get triaged by a professional

7. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? Yeah, there was a shadow monster man at the foot of my bed and it was scary but not as traumatizing as I’ve heard it can be

8. What musician inspires you the most? Grant Kirkhope

9. Have you ever fallen in love? No

10. What’s your dream date? Beach, shaved ice, local coop games at home

11. What do others notice about you? My smile

12. What’s an annoying habit you have? I’m always peeling my nails. I’ve done so ever since I was a kid, and I’m pretty sure it was a nervous habit back then, but it’s become so second-nature to me that it’s just something I do now, and I can’t fathom being unable to do so

13. Do you still talk to your first love? No

14. How many exes do you have? 0

15. How many songs are in your playlist? 1118

16. What instruments can you play? I’ve taken lessons for both guitar and drums, but I hated both and never tried any instrument since

17. What do you have the most pictures of? Shiba Inus, because a couple years ago I got an inflated sense of self-identify by being the “shibe” person, and in order to hold that title, I had to accrue as many pictures of them as possible

18. Where would you like to go before you die? Top of mount whitney again

19. What’s your zodiac? Scorpio

20. Do you relate to it? iirc they’re known for being chaotic neutral, so yeah

21. What is happiness to you? Receiving confirmation that my friends still like me, which is usually through the act of directly messaging me, or mentioning me in a GC or something. Also making progress/completing personal projects, and receiving validation from friends/strangers that I’m not wasting my time working on them

22. Are you going through anything right now? As a post-grad NEET, I’m very anxious over my ability to get a job doing what I like. And also I lost some really close friends recently

23. What’s the worst decision you ever made? I asked someone something personal once and they said yes, and it lead to the slowest, most agonizing burn of a close friendship I’d ever experienced. If I didn’t ask that one question, if I didn’t compound those ten syllables, if I didn’t make the choice to take three seconds and ask the question, I feel like I’d be in a tremendously different spot with my friends. Also trying to pretend to be someone else in high school to appeal to someone I had a huge crush on. Also not getting an internship in college. Also-

24. What’s your favorite store? Target

25. What’s your opinion about abortion? Pro choice

26. Do you keep a bucket list? no

27. Do you have a favorite album? Sonic Firestorm by Dragonforce

28. What do you want for your birthday? Shelves and sand, and anything that’s like handcrafted and made with care

29. What are people’s first impressions of you? Pleasant, talkative, sometimes intrusive

30. What age do you seem according to most people? 21

31. Where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping? Directly next to my head, so that my alarm may rupture my eardrums and I won’t disappoint whomever I’m meeting up with

32. What word do you say the most? rad

33. What’s the oldest age you would date? 28

34. What’s the youngest you would date? 20

35. What job/career do most people say would suit you? Game developer presumably, because that’s what I spend most of my time doing

36. What’s your favorite music genre? Happy hardcore

37. If you could live in any country in the world, where would it be? Somewhere with pretty landscapes, lots of mountains

38. What is your current favorite song? Techno Kitty ft. Sara

39. How long have you had this blog for? Since 2012

40. What are you excited for? Friday because I’m going to a bonfire, Banjo Kazooie in smash, the prospect of one day finishing my projects, L4D3

41. Are you a better talker or listener? Talker. Being put in a dedicated listening position gives me a lot of anxiety because I’ve frequently had experiences with close friends where I didn’t commit something they said to memory, and they got mad at me later for it. I think I talk a lot more than I should in order to avoid being in a position where my friends are expecting me to commit their facts to memory, and I could potentially fail to do so and disappoint them. I still try my best if I’m but in a dedicated listening position though

42. What was the last productive thing you did? Worked on Big Bill

43. What do you want for Christmas? Things that can’t be bought in a store

44. What class do you get the best grades in? Like, objectively the art classes because they literally can’t give you anything less than a 100% as long as you exert effort in the projects, regardless of how shitty the end product is

45. On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling right now? 8/10, very minor headache but I’ve got a full day ahead of me for working on stuff and playing local coop games with someone coming over later

46. What can you see yourself doing in ten years? Either jumping from position to position within the software development industry, barely riding off of whatever financial float I accrued from the position prior, or working as a janitor at a mall

47. When did you get your first heartbreak? Idk when my first was, but my most recent one was when I asked that personal question to a close friend and it lead to our relationship slowly burning away over the course of four months

48. What age do you want to get married? Sometime before either of my parents die

49. What career did you want to have as a child? When I was 8 I wanted to be a mechanic for some reason

50. What do you crave right now? An icee

#me

5 notes · View notes

songofwizardry · 5 years

Text

wolfstar teacher!au, part 2: the other marauders

part 1 of my wolfstar teacher!au that I posted an embarrassingly long time ago (you can find it here) got way, waaay more attention than I was expecting it to, so here y’all go: part 2, the backstory for Sirius, James and Peter, and how they all ended up in and around Hogwarts. Feat. our faves, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter! as always, enjoy and let me know what y’all think! [content warning: parental queerphobia/abuse/implied awfulness in bullet points 3 to 6.] ☆------------------------☆------------------------☆

So let’s talk about where our faves, the rest of the Marauders, are.

Being posh af, both James Potter and Sirius Black attended Hogwarts from the time they started secondary school.

Originally from London, Sirius is the kid of Orion, a Senegalese diplomat who was posted in London right at the start of his career, and Walburga, oldest daughter of a Ghanaian-French high-society couple, who moved from Paris to London when she was a child.

Sirius’ interactions with their family headed straight towards disastrous very quickly—during their initial years at Hogwarts, Sirius’ rebellion got more and more noticeable, all number of increasingly-terse letters and increasingly-angry phone calls were exchanged during term-time, and summers got increasingly-awful every year. This culminated in Sirius being outed, in a horrible, dramatic, and very teen-TV-drama-very-special-queer-episode-esque way at one am one night, the summer between their fifth and sixth years.

The ensuing conversation (‘I will not tolerate anything – anyone – of that sort under my roof!’ / ‘Well that’s fucking fine, isn’t it, because I won’t be under your roof!’ / ‘You’re doing this to yourself, Sirius, remember that—we’re not kicking you out. You’re making this choice.’ / ‘Oh yes, just one in a long string of things I’ve chosen to do, things I’ve chosen to be, isn’t it? Fine, then, I’m choosing to leave.’) meant that Sirius walked out of Grimmauld Place at about two-thirty in the morning, with only their coat, their mobile that was on twenty percent charge, and their ‘emergencies’ bag that they’d had for years now (it didn’t contain much more than several old cereal bars, about a hundred quid in change that a much-younger Sirius had squirrelled away, and a scrap of paper, dating back to first year, with James’ home number and his address scrawled on in messy handwriting that was definitely not Sirius’).

More than slightly out of it, Sirius ended up walking to the end of the road, called a cab to drive them across London in the middle of the night, paid the ludicrous eighty-something pound fare in mostly one- and two-pound coins, and finally, at about four in the morning, stood in front of the Potters’ house and called their landline.

(It was James’ dad who picked up, James’ dad who insisted Just call me Monty, now, none of that, whenever Sirius referred to him as Mr. Potter, James’ dad who’d given Sirius a hug the second time they’d met and whose glasses were somehow, impossibly, even more crooked than James’ own. When he picked up the phone, his voice was thicker, accent broader, with sleep; and Sirius, suddenly horribly unsure, crumpled the ancient note from James in one fist and said, “Hey, uh, Mr. Potter? I’ve—well, I’ve left my house, I’m—outside yours? Can I come in?”)

That was how Sirius, short of everything but legal adoption, ended up a Potter child, had their diet switched to one that suddenly contained far too many rotis, and was introduced by James solely as his sibling, with an associated glare that dared anyone to question it.

After Hogwarts, Sirius’ deep-seated desire to not return to London manifested in them running off to St. Andrews to do a fine art degree. Mrs. Potter, who had been looking forward to having the children not be off in Scotland, was slightly disappointed, but she responded by instead posting Sirius numerous packages of fancy teabags, because Mrs. Potter (rightfully) believed that in the absence of being actually there to fuss over someone, the next best alternative was to provide them with tea.

While Sirius was off being artsy as fuck, James Potter was off… also being pretty artsy. In a move that made Monty raise his eyebrows and quietly wonder how he’d ended up with not one, but two children doing creative arts, James stayed closer to home, went to Reading, and read English and Creative Writing. It took staying on for a Master’s for James to decide he’d had enough of academia, and of the overwhelming whiteness of English departments, for a bit, and to decide that he wanted A Break, and also a source of income that wasn’t a student loan. Enter Sirius.

James had been off being pretty unemployable, while Sirius was being… slightly more employable. A couple years volunteering during their degree had led them to the shocking realisation that holy shit, they liked teaching people about artsy shit. Their only problem was that nobody (short of the Potter parents, but Sirius wasn’t keen on taking more money from them) wanted to fund an art teacher. A year out of uni, with a year of mixed work and volunteering under their belt – leading museum tours, art therapy at kids’ hospitals, one particularly fantastic weekend spent spray-painting with a youth group in Manchester, pretty much anything they could get their hands on that had ‘art’ and ‘young people’ in the description – Sirius heard, through the grapevine, that Trelawney had finally retired.

On a whim, they called up Hogwarts. The conversation with Dumbledore went something like this: ‘I haven’t got a teaching qualification, sir, but I do have a full year of experience–‘ / ‘We’re an independent school, Sirius, we don’t exactly need the qualification. Anyway, an art degree and some experience is more than Sibyl had when she started, so why don’t you send an application along to me, hmm?’

Hogwarts got back to Sirius quickly, which is how, a week later, they called up James, saying, “Hey, you know how you wanted a break from uni and all that shit? How do you feel about moving to Hogsmeade with me?”

It was a completely impractical decision. James, unlike Sirius, didn’t have a job offer there, didn’t have plans, he only had the sudden realisation that he’d kinda missed living with Sirius, and his pretty-unshakeable confidence that things would always turn out the way they were meant to.

He said yes.

Which is how, two years down the road, we find the two of them here—living opposite The Three Broomsticks in a small house, one bedroom on the bottom floor and one on the top, that’s owned by Rosmerta.

Sirius is an established figure at Hogwarts, where they’re a bit of a student favourite and have acquired a reputation for being slightly chaotic (possibly because they once let a stressed year eleven class decorate the wall of the art classroom, spray-painting it with the words No such thing as bad art!).

James, being a bit too posh to have ever done the unemployed-grad thing of waiting tables, is a triple-threat freelancer instead—he writes fortnightly book reviews, which often end up with a bit of a commentary on The Human Condition, for eccentric magazine The Quibbler; he contributes regularly to Parivaar, an online artsy zine/website/collective that started up in Birmingham but has now got contributors across the UK and readers across the world, that describes itself as art, fiction, and opinions by and for desi rebels, misfits and weirdos; and, because Hogsmeade is small, he does the marketing and runs the social media for The Three Broomsticks—which isn’t much work, considering how small it is, but at least he can ensure the fifty-odd people, mostly students, who follow @3BroomsticksPub only see grammatically-perfect tweets.

The Potter parents are… slightly concerned about James’ rather non-traditional sources of income, but Euphemia reads The Quibbler and can’t deny he writes very well, and he says he’s fine and no, the two of them don’t need any help with the rent, thank you very much, so they tut a bit from afar and perhaps still send them too many teabags, and load both James and Sirius up with a frankly ridiculous number of tupperware containers full of curry and roti when they come visit.

This is when James and Sirius meet Peter Pettigrew.

It’s a rainy evening in late March. The two of them have, earlier that day, just come back up from London, where they spent the weekend with James’ parents, who wanted to see him for his birthday. They’re now in the Three Broomsticks, because that’s what they do—Sirius is nursing a pint, hair up in a bun, sketching out an idea for a mural—they’ve convinced Dumbledore that the third-floor corridor that students insist is haunted by the spirit of a giant, three-headed dog is in need of a rebrand before another generation of first-years gets pranked by being trapped in there and is scarred for life. James has lemonade and is watching Sirius, recounting the many tales of the three-headed dog he heard during his time at Hogwarts, including the one story that claims the spirit is called Fluffy. This is when they see Peter.

Anyone new at The Three Broomsticks sticks out when it’s not a student visit weekend, and this short white guy, his hair and coat and rucksack wet from the rain, is no exception. He looks damp and cold and rather lost and lonely, sitting at a corner table with a drink, so James, being Euphemia and Monty’s son and thus, genetically speaking, destined to be the ultimate mother hen, decides to go over to him and offer to buy him some of Rosmerta’s excellent, and very warming, tomato soup. That’s just what James does, and Sirius is used to it at this point, so they only watch, amused, as James drags the sodden stranger over to join their table.

Introductions are made, and they learn that Peter, who was born in Shropshire, trained to be a nurse in Shropshire, and until very recently, worked in Shropshire, had finally left Shropshire – for good – for Hogsmeade, because his Mum had died earlier that year and he couldn’t stay in the same house. Through the NHS friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend grapevine, he’d ended up finding a job at St. Mungo’s Hospital, a few towns over, and was moving in with a woman he’d only spoken to on the phone, a Lily Evans—she was also a friend-of-a-friend found through the same grapevine, lived further down in Hogsmeade, towards the Hog’s Head, and had recently also started work at St. Mungo’s, and needed someone to split the rent with. In short, Peter explains, draining the very last of the admittedly-incredible tomato soup, everything feels like a bit of a mess, and he would really like to take a nap for about a week.

Aforementioned mother hen, James, is appropriately horrified and sympathetic at Peter’s plight, and declares himself and Sirius Peter’s “official guides” to life in Hogsmeade and settling in.

It’s only a few short months after this – a few months during which Peter hangs out with James and Sirius regularly at The Three Broomsticks, they meet his housemate Lily, and Sirius lets the leavers’ class, slightly dead after all their exams, help paint a giant mural on the third-floor corridor that features a surprisingly-cute three-headed ghost dog, with the Hogwarts crest and the word FLUFFY on its collar – that Sirius hears about The New Teacher.

At this point, they’re kinda used to the disaster that is the state of physics teaching at Hogwarts. It’s early in the summer, and they’re vaguely aware that Flitwick is running interviews again, only because it’s the talk of the staff room and the entire science department have looked like they’re on the verge of breakdown since Moody, or as they call it in the staff room, The Iraqi Plane Incident.

That weekend, though, they run into Flitwick in Gladrags, where Flitwick is searching, as always, for trousers that will fit his small frame, and Flitwick takes one look at them, grins, and says, “Sirius! We found someone! He’s called Lupin, he’s got an actual physics degree, and, consider this, he seems decent!”

And that is the first thing Sirius Black hears about Remus Lupin.

#wolfstar #harry potter #wolfstar au #remus lupin #sirius black #teacher!au #everyone is gay #james potter #peter pettigrew #desi james potter #euphemia potter #fleamont potter #james potter is the ultimate mother hen #lily evans #gay remus lupin #queer sirius black #this au is getting out of hand #repost because typos

47 notes · View notes

thelonelytraveler11 · 6 years

Text

Is this really the best I can do?!

It's been three years since I've done any form of research. I haven't worked in almost three years. Just in case anyone's wondering, yes, I filled out job applications (a lot, like ~250 before I gave up). For the past couple years, I've been living off my savings, the little bit of money I get from my family, and the little bit of money I get from having part time jobs. My work experience since dropping out has been pretty dismal (on average), I haven't been able to hold down a job that gave an appreciable amount of money for longer than 3 months at a time without being fired or being so miserable that I just said "fuck it" and quit.

I understand the concern some may have. You may consider it my fault for being unemployed. Quitting a job that I'm miserable while doing may seem irrational or irresponsible, but speaking as a person who spent almost the entirety of his college years being miserable, I can say with all honesty that being broke is better than being miserable. I envy those that can’t seem to comprehend my way of thinking, because that probably means they have a very good life. I wouldn't want to work in an environment that negatively affects my emotional state for 4 decades anyways. Having disposable income isn’t more important than my well being. Having a job I actually enjoy doing is very important to me because I don't have many sources of happiness in my life.

I'm kind of a loner. I don't have a strong relationship with any of my relatives and I don't have friends anymore (and even more troubling, I don't care to have those types of relationships anymore). The only potential source of happiness is my job. I don't foresee me failing in love or developing a close relationship with anyone. If the current trend continues, I think its more probable that it doesn’t happen.

I feel numb most of the time and when I do feel something, I'm usually thinking about my college days and that something is usually anger. It honestly was my biggest regret, going to the University of Illinois. Sometimes I wished I never went to college. Literally the only thing that was even remotely good about my college experience was my grades, everything else sucked. Looking back, I wish I went back to working at CVS after I graduated from HS.

In the alternate timeline, I probably would have been better off in the long run (very little stress, no debt, live rent free at my mom's house for a couple of years after graduation while working a presumably full time job which would enable me to save up a fair amount of cash before moving out). Instead, I came away with nothing. My college education was completely worthless, I reaped no benefits from being a degree recipient. All I did was waste 7 years of my life and thousands of other people’s dollars studying stuff that ultimately wouldn't matter. If I were a benefactor for the UIUC department of chemistry, I would be pissed to hear my story because that means my money isn't being put to good use, especially if I added into one of the scholarships that was awarded to me.

So, I know what your wondering, why am I writing this post? Well, I was trying to get ride time with CFD and I called for a specific person that wasn't in. Someone took a message and wrote my name down as Joel Dennison. Dennison was the last name of the NMR guy at UCI. That got me thinking about my college days and how I hated basically everyone. I caught myself looking through emails and for the most part, the more I read, the more I remembered, the more enraged I got. Now that's one sure fire way to put me in a bad mood, get me thinking about the bad ol' days. I bet many of the people I went to grad school with are enjoying their careers, while I was completely forgotten (and if they're not enjoying them, well at least they have them).

I’ve always wondered why were the other students so complicit? Is racism really that prevalent? Is there something else going on? See, it's one thing to not say anything while they were still students because it runs the risk of them being treated like I was treated. But to not even offer a helping hand even after their careers were established, knowing what they know, is un-fucking-real.

I never really felt welcomed in chemistry. People seemed to be more in love with the idea of me. I noticed the longer I stayed, the worse I was treated. At U of I, it was .... kinda bad. I experienced a form a discrimination where I would have written essentially the same answer as my lighter counterparts but received lower grades (slightly lower, but still). People assumed I did well in certain classes because the professor "liked me" (pretty sure no one at U of I liked me much). People also made statements that are crazy racist and then tried to pass them off as jokes. I fucking hated life in Champaign-Urbana.

SIDE NOTE: the following story doesn't necessarily reflect the chemists, but it does represent a subset of the student body at U of I. So, I'm sitting in the cafeteria with three dudes I already knew and some guy from the next table looks over to me and says "Sorry, if I offended you". I calmly replied "what did you say?" And Oh....My....God.... the look of utter fear was plastered all over his face. I said, "What did you say?", again, calmly. I can not stress enough that I was visibly calm throughout this entire situation. And then I noticed he was shivering, I figured I would warm up a lil bit by using my hot ass breath, so I repeated the question louder and slower (you know, to give the guy's body time to come to thermal equilibrium), again.......calmly. He was still frozen in fear. So now I am mentally gearing up to jump across this table to snatch this little boy's neck out from under him. And then something miraculous happened, my tunnel vision broke down and I realized someone was calling me. It was Jon (one of the kids I was sitting with) telling me to drop it...so I did......so, yeah, that's the story of how I almost got kicked out of U of I for snatching the neck out from under some little white kid during sophomore year.  

But there was one instance of me being the butt of racist jokes in chemistry that I can remember. Then UIUC grad student, John Overcash (who I believed worked for Ken Suslick), made mention of me "cooking crack up in the kitchen" on more than one occasion. Apparently, since I was a black chem major (that specialized in organic chemistry) I must have been a drug dealer beforehand. Or maybe he thought I was a drug dealer then....who knows...

To make matters worst, people have used the stuff other people made up to put themselves a head of me. Senior year I had an interview with eli lilly. My interview was at 9 am and there was one person interviewing before me at 8 am. The 8 am slot was taken by one Joseph Cullen (a fellow undergrad). During the end of his interview , I could vaguely hear what was said, but it sounded like Cullen told the interviewers that I was a drug dealer. The door opens up, the interviewer shoots me a look and goes into the room where my interviewers were and talks to them. Meanwhile Cullen walks past me. I give him a thumbs up and he walks away chuckling to himself. These are not good signs. I can’t say for certain that these people really believed I was a drug dealer, but their behavior suggested it. It was their reaction to me saying the phrase "nice white crystalline product", that’s what suggested it. I was describing the physical characteristics of the product from a reaction I ran and it just so happen to be a white crystalline solid (...smh). What I want to know why were these people so quick to believe Cullen? Yes, what Cullen said could be true (which it wasn't) but couldn't it also be true that he's trying to give himself a better chance of getting a job by undercutting the competition?

I wish I got a job offer as an undergrad. I honestly didn't want to go to grad school, but I had no other choice. Visiting grad schools was a whole ordeal, I was told in one way or another that I wasn’t welcomed ... at every school. At Scripps I was told explicitly that I wasn’t good enough to be there by complete strangers (how exactly would they know given that they never assessed my ability to think ... who knows). At Indiana University, I was placed in a hotel room by myself because they heard I slept naked. At UCI, I was told that I wouldn’t make it pass my first year (again, by complete strangers). At Caltech, I was told I didn’t belong because I was a drug dealer (or that I look like a drug dealer, apparently).

Now, I ask you, how do drug dealers look exactly? What are they’re defining characteristics? I ask because if you asked someone who lived in Champaign-Urbana for four years to imagine what a drug dealer looks like, they might imagine a srcawny white boy in a frat (not someone that looks like me). What makes the Caltech visit even weirder was that Prof. Sarah Reisman was just standing by, staring at me while I was being told I didn’t belong (by the help, you know, the people who was serving drinks). It was like she was trying to read my facial expressions to get a sense of what type of person I was (or am). Or was she using the help as a proxy to express her own thoughts (I’m not sure)? Was she waiting for me to “defend myself”?  How would I be able to do that exactly?

SIDE NOTE: it’s impossible to defend yourself when there’s no evidence for or against whatever accusations there may be. It all comes down to what people choose to believe. The help has already chosen to believe I’m a drug dealer (or at least look like one) and I’m willing to bet there’s really nothing I can really do about.

No matter how I analyze the situation, Reisman’s behavior does not reflect positively on her as a person. I’m not sure if she knows this, but she was the primary reason I had to not go to Caltech. I found her behavior to be very off-putting and I got the sense that she didn’t really want me to go to school there. On top of that there was talk of her wanting to have (oral) sex.  

DISCLAIMER: I am effectively asexual, I don’t have sex ... with anyone ... or anything (yes, I actually needed to say both).

Now, I didn’t believe the talk when I first heard it because I thought there was no way a self-respecting, competent professor would admit to wanting to engage in a sexual relationship with a perspective student ... this is what I choose to think. However, the more I heard of her desires to have (oral) sex, the more I believed it. But I never fully accepted the rumors as the truth until my first year at UCI. Reisman came to Irvine for a talk and as always almost all the Organic students showed up. Before the event, I was sitting at the small table with another grad student in my year, her name was Beth R. (I don’t know how to spell her last name and I’m not going to try to google it). Beth ended up mentioning how pretty Reisman looked .... I “mmmhmmm”ed her. I could hear the chatter going on behind me, Reisman seemed mildly disappointed that I didn’t agree. Beth soothed her ill feelings by saying that I didn’t disagree. After the event, I was talking to Prof. Scott Rychnovsky and Reisman came up in the conversion. This was the final nail in the coffin that made me believe the rumors were true. It wasn’t the fact that he said she would’ve blown me, it was the fact that he said it soooo enthusiastically. He was as enthused as a person could possibly be in a professional/academic setting. No one should that enthused by the thought of a man getting his dick sucked as much as Rychnovsky was by the thought of Reisman putting my dick in her mouth, no one. It was kinda weird.  

The thought this woman hocking loogies on my dick tip, and imagining the sensation of warm saliva slowly rolling down my shaft (as I quote lines from the movie, Shaft (the Samuel L. Jackson version...obviously)) as I knock my head back, praying to god that I don’t come away from this situation with paper cuts (she has thin lips) just to look back down after noticing she paused just so she could fill the waves from my pulsating erection and make eye contact as she goes deeper and increases the pace eventually moving to the point where she starts straggling my balls and moaning like Lady Gaga singing a lullaby to baby while stroking my hard cock until I cum for her as Nicole Nava sits beside her while taking notes shouldn’t be even remotely amusing.....TO ANYONE...EVER!!!!!! But apparently to Rychnovsky, it was. It was at that moment I never wanted to be affliated with Caltech as long as Reisman was there. If Caltech and Illinois were the only two places that offered me jobs after finishing the PhD, I’d have to change careers. 

Okay, so here’s the thing. I don’t really view professors as people. When I was a student, they were more like encyclopedias that could talk to me. They simply took the form of a human, kinda like a barbie doll. They’re anatomically incorrect, they lack genitalia, so they don’t have a gender. I honestly, believed this. One time, during senior year, I walked in the third floor bathroom in RAL and I saw Prof Steven Zimmerman taking piss. My face immediately screws all the way up, my inside voice says “How is he standing up and taking a piss when he doesn’t have a dick?”.....I thought that....I literally thought that....I shit you not. Just so you know, it wasn’t just Zimmerman, it was every professor. The women are doubly dickless, in my mind Suzanne Blum was like —(Mia Khalifa) because she has negative two dicks inside of her at all times.

DISCLAIMER: just so we’re clear, I’m NOT alluding to the fact that Blum has to get people to agree to have sex with her. Nor am I alluding to the assertion she’ll probably be nothing more than an afterthought for literally anyone. I’m merely trying to stress the fact that I don’t think of professors as people, but as encyclopedias that can talk to me.

I was made to feel unwlecomed at every school I visited. Why? Well, you'll have to ask them. I can honestly say that by the time graduation (from U of I) came around I didn't believe that i would have a successful career as a chemist, but I put everything into this so I couldn't just leave...

Grad school was even worst because on top of being the black kid, I was also the social pariah. The other students did a real good of making me feel unwelcomed. So much so that after two weeks of living in Irvine I stopped trying to make friends. No one seemed interested in being cool with me (I'm basing this off people's behavior ... obviously). And if some of them were, the way they showed it was so unique that I couldn't even recognize it as a sincere attempt to get my attention.

I also experienced some the same stuff I did when I was at U of I. Namely, instructors not giving me what I earned. In Dave VanVraken’s class I always received the second highest score on the exams. The really curious thing is that no one knows who received the top score. Once, when I asked to see the printed out distribution, the TA refused to show me (why?). I'm willing to bet that single point ahead of me was a dummy point. In Liz Jarvo’s class, when the first exam came around, we found out the high score was a 83. Who got the high score?...no one knows, but when I received my test the number 38 was written on (Also note I just so happen to get the same score as the other kid from U of I). At first, I was puzzled and glanced over to Peg (the TA). She sees my score, turns to Jarvo and says "he knows he didn't get that low". While I don't remember Jarvo’s exact words, she stated in some way that I would come to her and argue my case for a higher grade. So, here's the thing. I shouldn't have to defend myself or argue with you to ensure that I'm treated like everyone else. It should be a given.  

From what I hear the reason why I was treated this way has something to do with them not wanting me to "talk stuff" to the other students.  

Okay, so where is this coming from? I ask because I’ve been me long enough to know their opinion of what I’m like isn’t actually based off me. If they actually talked to my fellow classmates, the most common thing you’d probably hear is that I’m quiet. So either these people are just making up stuff to justify treating me how they want to treat me or my classmates are liars. I’m not really the type to talk about my grades (or really anything) unless the topic is explicitly brought up in conversation (and this is assuming I feel like talking at all). You can dress it up however you want, but treating me like a second class student for any reason solely reflects poorly on you (it gives no indication as to what I’m like). There were instances like this in half the classes I took. Some, admittedly were a smaller deal than others. In Vanderwal’s class I got marked off once because I didn’t draw both arrows in a mechanism that included a homolytic cleavage. For those that don’t know, if a homolytic cleavage occurs and you show one electron going in one direction, it is assumed that the other electron goes in the opposite direction and therefore does not need to be explicitly stated (minor, but mildly annoying). In polymer chemistry (taught by Aaron Esser-Khan), we had one assignment where we needed to propose something that wasn’t in the primary literature. I proposed a polymerization based off a derivative of the Hiyama coupling. Khan’s critique was that since it wasn’t already in the primary literature, it probably wasn’t a good idea ... really?! And don’t even get me started on spec because that spec TA was sketchy as fuck. He intentionally told me the wrong due date for a homework assignment and I’m pretty sure he shaved a couple points off one of my exams...

Okay, so these experiences are only a subset of the shitty things I experienced as a UCI student. But do you know what made life at UCI worst than life at U of I? My research advisor (Suzanne Blum)....and to a slightly lesser extent my fellow group members. Over the years I grew to hate them. I was lied about, I had a homework assigns hidden behind water coolers (Darius Faizi), I’ve had the nitrogen lines removed from air sensitive reactions (Darius Faizi, Suzanne Blum), I had products from reactions switch out for reagent alcohol (it’s a mixture of ethanol, methanol, and isopropanol) (Josh Hirner), I’ve had septums removed from reaction mixtures (Josh Hirner), I’ve had people try to placate me with sex (Katrina Roth), I’ve had people try to use the fact that I was in an agitated state to get something they wanted (Katrina Roth), I’ve had people turn on the indoor lights in my car in an effort to drain my battery while I’m allowing them to use my car to practice driving so they can get a U.S. driver’s license (Muhammed Al-Amin), I’ve had people ask questions just so they can not listen to the answer (Chao Zheng, Drew), I’ve experienced asking people for help just so they can not even try to help brainstorm what the answer could be (Darius Faizi, Kim Tu), I helped others brain storm shortcomings for a proposal, just to catch an attitude when they realize I didn’t catch everything the first time around (Quinn Easter).  

SIDE NOTE: To provide context, Quinn asked me to look through a synthetic route in his proposal that he was intending to present in his advancement to candidacy exam. There was something I didn’t immediately see but did bring up during a group when he was giving a practice presentation. He became visibly upset and mentioned he thought I was trying to make him look bad. If I was really trying to make you look bad, I wouldn’t have told you anything, so that you would’ve made the same mistakes when it actually mattered. Quinn, you’re an idiot.  

l’ve had people call me after I already dropped out and given up on chemistry from a redacted telephone number claiming to be an official representative of UCI calling me in an effort to get my address (Suzanne Blum, Ashley Davis), and I’ve had the experience where I ask for information pertinent to group website maintenance and they act like I’m hitting on them (Adena).

SIDE NOTE:  This is something that always amused/offended me, having someone assume I’m attracted to them because I acknowledged their existence. It’s funny because because they have the audacity ... but it’s also offensive because the operating assumption is that I don’t have standards, which couldn’t be further from the truth. (They seem to make a lot of faulty assumptions)

What was this experience suppose to teach me? How was I supposed to become a better person or scientist because of my affiliation with the group/university? Me coming to Irvine and working for Blum was a total waste of my time. I’m not entirely sure what her deal was, but it seemed she had a preconceived notion of who I was. No matter what type of relationship we have (or suppose to have) this will cause problems where there shouldn’t be.  

Is the request that someone’s opinion of you is actually based on you too much to ask for? Because I feel it’s a basic request that most people should be able to easily do. The contemptuous treatment did subside with time (mostly because I avoided talking to other students when ever possible) but it never really stopped. Why did it start to begin with? I’m willing to bet the only things they don’t like about me has everything to do with me reacting to the way they treat me. Again, I have to ask, is racism really that prevalent? 

Then one day, I started getting so fed up with life that I decided I needed an escape, even if it’s only for a couple weeks. So, I started planning a trip to Europe. I worked hard in the weeks coming up to the trip. I was trying to finish my entire project before I left (sadly, I didn’t, but I tried). Things were looking on the up and up. Before I left, Blum even said I was meeting her expectations, that was the nicest thing she ever said to me (it was the nicest thing anyone at UCI has ever said to me). I went off on my trip, and during the middle of it I received an email essentially telling me that my time at UCI was finished. Why? I still don’t know. 3 years later and I still don’t know why my career was ended before it was even given a chance to start. It’s hard to move on with your life when you don’t have closure. It’s really hard to move on when you still have to live with consequences of other people’s actions.

SIDE NOTE: I got the sense sometimes that Suzanne Blum did not really care about her job 100% of the time. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. It’s like, either she truly didn’t understand the importance of her role (as the leader of a research group) or she truly doesn’t give a shit. Either way, she doesn’t deserve to be in the position she’s in.  

I still remember my last day in Irvine. It was bitter sweet. I was so happy to finally get to leave but also a bit anxious because I knew that the thousands of hours I spent studying and doing research was time wasted and it would never amount to anything. I knew I wasn’t going to get a job with my credentials. I even saw Eric (the other kid from U of I) in the student center when I went over to get lunch. He was looking at me all sad and shit because he knew I didn’t have a future in chemistry. We didn’t talk, we just walked past each other and exchanged glances. I tried to conceal a smile as I walked by. By the time my Dad’s flight landed, I had moved most of the stuff out my apartment.  

Life at home was hard. Depression is a mother fucker. I liken it to a less severe version of sleep paralysis. I felt like I was stuck in my own body. Kinda like how I felt in the early Irvine days when it would take me hours to roll out of bed. I would literally wake at 6 am and just stare at the ceiling for ~4 hrs before I could convince myself to get up. And to make things worst, no emotional support was offered by my family. Their assumptions that I’m somehow responsible for other people’s actions along with their snide remarks about me being lazy did the opposite of help. I regretted coming home, even more so when I found out I somehow failed the background check for CPD.  

Now, how in the holy fuck does someone without a criminal record fail a background check? The only reasonable thing I could come up with to explain this is that the work experience I listed (my research experience) doesn’t count as work experience because instead of working for a salary, I worked for credit hours or a stipend. I have to tell myself things like this to convince myself I’m not getting screwed over in every facet of my life. If this is true, then my college experiences are doubly worthless because not only can the credentials I’ve earned not be used to get a job I’m more than qualified to do, but they can’t even get me a job you don’t even need a bachelor’s degree for.  

I wish I moved to LA after dropping out. If I stayed in Cali, I’d be force to move on with my life because I wouldn’t be able to sulk in my mother’s house for months. What would I do for work? idk...but I’d find something, and when I get fired, I’d just move on to the next dead end job.

As time went on, I found it easier to move, I still have scars though. Scars that may never heal. What can I do from here on out? I’m not sure. Going back to graduate school isn’t an option (or any program that requires letters of recommendations) because after experiencing what I’ve experienced and allowing those that I depended on for letters of rec to learn about my experiences, everyone seemed to be complicit. Either they didn’t do anything to change the course of action or it seemed like they were trying to cover it up by telling me to take the site down. I lost faith in everyone, I don’t think I can trust any of the profs to submit a letter of rec on my behalf when they either have done something that goes against my interests, are complicit in the wrong doing of others, or seem as though they’re attempting to cover up what happened to me. Even if I could get in anywhere, I still don’t want to go back to school. I lost faith in higher education. I lost faith in people. Whatever I do, I have to be able to do it without a college degree.

Just in case you’re wondering, I can’t depend on my college friends either. Mostly because I wasted no time trying to make friends. I’ve come to believe that friends are a worthless luxury.

I honestly believed that if I studied hard and knew my shit someone would hire me. I was wrong. I learned the hard way that to the outside world you are not you. You are not the sum total of your thoughts and actions. You are your skin color. You are your hair texture. You are the clothes you wear on your back. You are what people choose to believe you are. You are not you. People don’t care to get to know the people around them, they just want to feel as though their justified in believing the way they do. So I guess in order to get by in life you just need to be everyone’s friend and present yourself in such a way that everyone deems acceptable. Having the skills needed to do the job is more of an afterthought, huh? You know, one of the corollaries is that you’re expected to exhibit a certain level of extroversion. Welp, it just so happens to be the case that I’m an introvert and if the previous statements have some truth then I can honestly say this system was set up for me to fail. The only way I can get by in life is because I’m better than the other guy. No one will ever choose me because I’m their best friend.

I believe that’s where some of my problems stem from. When people see my face, they expect an extrovert (or at least someone who is more extroverted than me). When they find out I’m not who they want me to be, the reactions can range from essentially nothing, to mild disappointment, to mild hostility. And I think this is because people are more interested in the idea of me than actually getting to know me. So when they meet me and actually get to know me after building me up in their heads they’re kinda like “...oohh, this is it?!”. I don’t understand people. It’s like people just assume that you’re going to conform to their world view while refusing to even bend to yours. Now, I’m totally opposed to the very concept of “fitting in” because of all that. I got the sense “fitting in” means assimilation, which may involve losing qualities that make you unique (ones you may actually like about yourself). I don’t see why I should change in any way for people I don’t like, that I don’t see the benefit of being associated with, or for people that never liked me to begin with. People even sometimes mock my behavior, presumably because I’m not what they want me to be and this is just their way of trying to get me to conform. 

The most recent example of this is my cousin Sonia (she’s multicultural). I went to her graduation party during the summer. And as with most family functions, it pretty much consisted of me sitting quietly most of the time. So fast forward to when it’s time to go home. My mother and 2/3 of my brother’s children are making their way to the car, noticing the third one is missing I go back for her. As I’m making my way up the front porch, three of my cousins (one of which is Sonia) are in my path and I say “watch out”. As I walk past Sonia, she says something along the lines of “woah, he must be serious....” while laughing... I’m going to say this once, “Mocking my behavior because I don’t act how you want me to act will never help anything”...... unless you’re actively trying to get me to dislike you. I have to remember that Sonia is just a child. Maybe it hadn’t dawn on her yet that there’s more to life than what she’s experienced. She’s probably never met a person like me, so she won’t know what to say in order to get me to interact with her. But then I’m like, “But what makes her think making herself look like an ass would actually help her in any capacity?” How does this explain the behavior of grown ass men and women who do the same thing?”. I wonder if it’s a cultural thing, and these people just don’t realize how bad they make themselves look to people that aren’t like them.  

On the way home, I started thinking, “Is this really the best I can do?”. Have I been doomed to live a life where I’m not really happy? No, it can’t be the case. I still have faith. I may not have faith in other people anymore, but I still have faith in myself. I believe I can make something out of nothing, even if no one else does.

After going through all I’ve gone through, all I want is to not suffer anymore. I just want to be insanely rich for no reason. This won’t solve all my problems but it will eliminate many. If I ever come into having an ungodly amount of money, I’d give some of it to my family so they can afford many of the things that they want in life. Then I’d disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. 

I’ve become acutely aware of the fact that people want to learn useless knowledge without ever having to talk to me.

DISCLAIMER: the knowledge is useless because we won’t/don’t have a relationship of any sort. Why waste your time learning information that isn’t relevant to your life?

So I’m going to take this opportunity to answers some personal questions because the thing I hated the most about you people is your unique combination of arrogance, ignorance, and obliviousness. While I can’t help with the arrogance and the obliviousness, I can help with your total lack of knowledge. So, without further ado ...

QUESTION TIME

Did you ever like life in Champaign county?

I was excited to be there in the beginning, then I met the people and all that excitement went away quick.

What’s your fondest memory from college?

That one time when Chipotle was doing that 2 for 1 deal. That was cold.

So, what’s up with your sexuality?

I don’t have sex because I don’t want to take the risk of having children, also no STDs. People were oddly obsessed with my sexuality and I never quite understood it. Here’s the thing, I’m a little self centered and I’m like you in the sense that I don’t immediately acknowledge other people’s way of thinking all the time. I honestly don’t understand why there was as much “interest” in knowing what I’m interested in (I use quotes because if people were actually interested they probably would have try talking to me). My viewpoint is that your claimed sexual orientation is irrelevant, it’s not even worth bring up in conversation. The reason why is simple. If you see a pretty girl and you know she’s interested in men, it doesn’t necessary mean she’s interested in you (assuming your male) right? That’s why the only thing that matters to me is whether or not the person I’m interested in is interested in me.

It’s funny because if you completely ignore the fact that not everyone thinks like me, it would seem as though there were ALOT of dudes that wanted me to fuck them when I was in college.

To the people “interested” in knowing my sexual orientation. Ask yourself two questions. Do you want a shot? Do you think you have a shot? Think hard about it. If the answer to one of those questions is “no”, don’t waste your time.

If you haven’t already figured it out by now, I don’t think like a normal person. I’m never going to adjust or change to make you feel comfortable, the best thing I can do is not talk to you at all. I don’t adjust to you, you adjust to me. Why? because fuck you, that’s why.

Are you ever going to have sex?

Maybe, maybe not. What’s it to you?

Do you think people like you?

I know they don’t. Based off their actions, they don’t want to like me either. They’d spend less time gossiping about the negative characteristics I could have and more time actually getting to know me if they did.

You don’t think people know anything about you?

It all depends on what you think it means “to know”. Personally, I don’t. I’m never around people long enough for them to be able to get a true sense of who am I as a person. All people get are snapshots. Sadly, that isn’t good enough. That’s something I don’t think most people realize, actually.

What if after reading this, people actually started trying to get to know you, how would you react?

My recommendation is that you don’t waste your time. You can’t undo the damage that’s already been done. I’ve already stopped caring.

If you could go back in time and pick another college, which would you pick?

Xavier University in NOLA. I’d pick this HBCU because I’m fairly confident some of the problems I encountered at U of I wouldn’t have existed there.

Why did you choose UCI?

Because they told me I wasn’t going to make pass my first year. I knew what type of student I was. I knew I had what it took to make it through any program. But I was at a low point in my life, where nothing seemed to be going right. I figure If I go there and get forced out after a year, it wouldn’t be my fault. The devastating thing is they let me get so close to graduating before just booting me out like they did.

Why did you use the word “they”?

Someone easily could have stepped in and did something. The department just enabled her (Suzanne Blum).

What grad program do you think you should have choose?

Indiana University or Rutgers probably would been better for me.

What motivates you to do well?

Meaningful positive reinforcement. Don’t just give out compliments for the sake of giving out compliments.

What’s one thing you hate most about people?

Their stupidity. Before I was told I failed the background check fro CPD. I’d get calls from some sort of case worker for CPD who was suppose to determine my eligibility. This dude asked me if I “resigned” from the Blum group and acted like that was a perfectly valid question. This wasn’t a job, it was a component of an academic program. I WAS A STUDENT. There was no resignation. You don’t resign from school. You either graduate, drop out, or get expelled. I know some college education is required for employment with CPD, so it’s far more likely that this guy is an idiot. REMEMBER GRAD SCHOOL IS STILL SCHOOL AND THERE ONLY 3 WAYS TO LEAVE.

Did you ever consider taking legal action?

Yes, but I know the people I’m dealing with aren’t above lying. Since there’s no physical evidence (that I have in my possession) proving that wrongs did occur, I’m reluctant to believe I’d actually win. It’s not smart to get into a “he said she said” battle with people that are believed to be pathological liars.

Are there any common misconceptions you’d like to clear up?

I wasn’t doing the school shit to make friends. I only wanted to make money. That’s the only reason why I was there, to make money. Every time someone why I as getting a PhD, my answer essentially went like, “I’m getting a PhD because money.” I see no point in trying to make friends with people who seemed to have been conditioned to dislike me.

Also, just because I’m quiet it doesn’t mean that I’m stuck up. It is in fact possible to be someone who isn’t a big talker.

Contrary to popular belief. I am in fact a HUMAN BEING. I have emotions and sometimes something could happen in one part of my life that can affect other parts of my life (like how well I do in school or how productive I am in lab).

Why did you just give up?

What’s the point of playing the game when you know you’ll never win.

It seems like the college years were a hard time for you, did you ever do something to ease the pain, like drugs or alcohol?

No, I love myself too much to potentially set myself up for problems later. I gave comedy a thought, but I found really hard to want to be funny when all I’m thinking about is the depressing shit that inspired the joke. If I’m gonna do something, it’s gonna be something were I don’t have to live with the consequences of my actions. I was suicidal. I was planning to kill myself the night before my thesis defense.

Why then?

I was fairly confident that no one there cared to save me from myself. But just in case someone wanted to surprise me, I figure it would be best to do when no one would expect it.

How?

potassium cyanide. The night before my defense I was going to make it my point to get a bottle of potassium cyanide. a couple months before my trip to Europe, I looked up who had it. It was on the fourth floor (or maybe the fifth). Go all the way down to the last lab space on the right hand side. When you walk into the lab space go along the right hand side and go through the door on your right. After that go to the first door on the right hand side. I placed a bottle on KCN in the first column on the left hand side, top shelf. The bottle should be on the wall on the left side (assuming it’s still in the same place I left it). I figured it wouldn’t get much use due to its inherent toxicity so it would probably be in the same place I left it when I needed it. I wouldn’t be surprise if the bottle is still in that exact spot. 

Did you ever think about getting help?

From who? When I did finally ask for help, the first thing I was told was that the department sided with Blum (mind you this is before any type of investigation occurred). As soon as I posted the email from Chris Vanderwal on this blog, his tune changed immediately. But his actions didn’t reflect the words he put out in the public space. He was of no use. He had no interest in helping me in any capacity. I’m sure of it. I’m all alone in this world, I don’t have a safety net so if I fall, that’s my ass.

What about the professors from UIUC?

My previous statement stands. I had no one.

Is that why you started the blog? You felt like your were all alone and just wanted someone talk to, even if that someone was actually a void in space?

Yes, that’s exactly it.

Is that why you’re still posting, you still feel alone?

yes

But what about your family?

With them I’m a dependent not a provider. They’d be okay without me.

So have you really never sought out a therapist?

I couldn’t find steady work. I can’t afford it. Depression is a rich people disease. When you’re broke you’re just labeled as lazy.

What’s one thing you want everyone to know?

You shouldn’t let your assumptions or the assumptions of others affect how you treat me. Remember, you don’t know me. I could come to be your best friend, your faithful and supportive business partner, or the love of your life and you’d just let me slip away all because someone told you dislike me.

(Also, please don’t waste my time talking to me about all the typos I made)

#introspection

148 notes · View notes

bigthighsandstupidguys · 5 years

Text

Hunger

A Greta Van Fleet Fic: Momma Kiszka enlist the help of a young professional to keep her boys healthy on the next leg of their world tour. The recent college grad is excited, but has she bitten off more than she can chew?

Chapter One

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 1784

You had just put your phone down when you saw the new email notification blink. The screen lit up with the email of your college advisor. That was unexpected. You had graduated almost two months ago, what could Debbie be reaching out about? You quickly unlocked your phone to open the email. After a quick greeting and well wishes on a post grad life Debbie began to describe a new position that would fit perfectly with your degree in nutritional sciences and your love of traveling. The employer was a childhood friend of Debbie’s, Karen, who was looking for a nutritionist with the ability to travel and keep odd hours. Karen wanted the nutritionist to be personally recommended by Debbie.

“I immediately thought of you for the position, Y\N,” read the email, “You were top of your class and had glowing evaluations from all of your internships during undergrad. Plus, I know you were hoping to do some traveling in the years following graduation. I think this would a stellar opportunity. I know Karen’s family, they are good people. Please let me know if you are interested and I’ll go ahead and recommend you to Karen and put you two in contact.”

The email ended with more well wishes. You mulled it over for a bit. From what you understood, Karen had some young sons who would need help with staying healthy while away from home during constant travel. It wasn’t a very detailed description, but your curiosity was piqued.

You currently didn’t have a solid plan for the future. Your paid internship at a local fitness club was about to end in two weeks along with the lease on your apartment. The club had let you know that even though they loved your work, they unfortunately didn’t have the funds to add you as a full-time employee. The most sensible thing to do would be to move back home with your parents at the end of the month and start applying around for a new job. The prospect of moving back to your hometown two hours from the city was not ideal. But the city was expensive and with no steady income lined up, your choice was pretty much made. But this email provided an alluring option.

You quickly replied to Debbie expressing your interest in the job. You wanted to explore the option before you. You had already surrendered to returning to your old room, but now out of the blue an exciting opportunity fell into your lap. Fate? Maybe.

You were nervous on the Uber ride over to Karen’s home office. A week ago, Debbie had put you and Karen in contact for what seemed like a promising job opportunity. The first phone call came two days later and was easy enough to get through because Karen had been very kind and asked questions about your experience, your rates, and willingness to make last minute changes in schedules. It was a pleasant and relatively short call. You didn’t get to ask any more questions about the position, but you figured it was mostly an opportunity for Karen to get a feel for you. You felt pretty confident and hoped she’d consider you.

Two days after that you got a phone call from Karen, she was really interested in you for the position, but wanted to clear up a few details before making an offer.

“My kids, they’re technically not kids anymore and one of them is a family friend. The youngest is 19, one is 20 and the other two are 22. They’re basically your age,” Karen spoke into the phone. “Which I’m weighing right now as a pro and a con. The pro is that your young and can keep up with them and you can relate to them, the similarity in age makes you more approachable, I think. However, the con, I’m afraid they won’t respect your expert advice, with you being so young. I’d like to think my boys would act accordingly and follow through with your professional recommendations. I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt because you look great on paper and Debbie can’t exalt your skills enough.”

“Wow, I’m flatered, thank you, Karen.” You beamed on the other side of the phone.

“Now, the other thing. The boys are part of a band called Greta Van Fleet, I’m not sure if your familiar with it?”

Holy fucking shit. Holy crap. Was this real life? Hell yeah I knew who they were! Local Michigan legends, they had just won a freakin Grammy!

“Errm, i—am, I do know. I know who they are, who the band is.” Holy shit you were starstruck through the damn phone. This was probably the final test and you were failing it with your stunned blubbering. It clicked together at that moment—the job required constant travel with four “kids”—you were going to tour with Greta Van Fleet as their nutritionist. Well if you could secure the job that is.

Karen gave a knowing chuckle. “I knew it was highly likely that you would know them. I kept the details under wraps while I filtered out candidates. Essentially, you would be working for me “being the mom,” if you will, while they are out touring. I can’t be there with them, but I want someone there to make sure they’re eating right, sleeping and all that. They came home a mess from their last tour, especially Josh,” you could hear the worry in her voice, “and I just can’t stay home in peace knowing they are risking their health like that.”

“I understand. I understand your concern as a mother. It would be an incredible honor to be trusted with your boys’ health while they go rock out in the world.”

Another chuckle. “I want to offer you the position, Y\N. If you accept, I’d like to meet you in person to read through the contract.”

“I do, I accept! When would you want to meet?”

That had been a few days ago and now you were on your way to read and sign the contract with Karen. Holy shit. You were going on tour with Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny. Definitely better than moving back home!

The car came to a stop in front of a lovely suburban home. You made your way to the door and rang the doorbell. The door opened suddenly, “Y/N! Welcome, I’m so glad to finally meet you in person.” Karen waved you in and took your hand to shake it. “Please follow me.” You were in the Kiszka’s childhood home, oh my GOD!

You followed her through a living room full of family pictures. You tried not to stare because you wanted to seem as professional as possible. But dammit you were going on tour with rock stars! Karen closed the door to her office and asked you to sit opposite from her at her desk.

“I think you are going to be a great addition to the tour troupe. I know I’ll feel better knowing your there. I want you to read the contract and let me know if you have any questions.” She bit her bottom lip as she slid the document across to you. It reminded you of Josh and you smiled. You took the papers in your hands and began to read. It was all pretty standard. Ethical practice stuff, non-disclosure clause so I wouldn’t go blabbing to TMZ or something. But then, there was a special clause. Your cheeks began to burn and you wished Karen wasn’t watching you as you read. Basically, it prohibited you from forming romantic relationships with any of the band members…which was basically covered by the ethical portion—you wouldn’t do that with any client, it was a conflict of interests. But this went further to detail that absolutely no sexual contact must happen between anyone in the band and me or it would result in immediate termination of my contract. Holy god this was beyond embarrassing. This kind of stuff usually went without saying, I wouldn’t do that! Why did Karen make this so explicit? Momma bear instinct?

You placed the papers on the desk. “I agree to the terms stated.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady and your face open and relaxed.

Karen stared into your eyes for an extra beat. “I know it isn’t typical to be so…detailed about some aspects. I won’t bullshit with you, I know what kinds of experiences come with the “Rockstar lifestyle”. You seem like a professional and responsible young lady, but I want to make sure you, or anyone that we work with, don’t try and take advantage of the privileged position in the boys’ lives. I hope you don’t take that personally.”

Your first reaction was hurt. It hurt to be considered a type of vulture that would try and get something out of the situation. But then you realized it must be so hard to find people with genuine intentions when money, power, and fame are on the line.

You nodded, “I understand. I hope to carry out my duties in a professional and respectful way. This is an incredible opportunity and I feel very grateful that you trust me. I don’t want that to ever be tarnished.” You really meant it.

“It’s reassuring to hear you say that, Y/N. The boys should be getting here soon, you all need to meet now. I’m also going to be telling them about your role in the crew for the first time. I hope that goes over well.”

Your face dropped. Did she mean that the guys didn’t know about having a personal nutritionist for their upcoming tour? You began to worry. “Karen, do the guys not know about me? Like about this position?” You tried to keep the concern out of your voice, but your wide eyes betrayed you.

Karen looked guilty and her face sank. “I have not told them yet that a professional will be joining the crew, no. I don’t want them brushing it off as me being overprotective. I’m hoping if I present you as a signed on done deal, they wont protest. I realize it puts you in a bit of an uncomfortable position. But I’m certain I’m just overthinking it. I think, yes.” She finished saying the last part more to herself than you.

Fuck. You hoped all the boys would be on board and not hate you for essentially being their mom’s stand in. You had been nervous about meeting the band before. But now, you were downright panicked. You mentally crossed your fingers as you sat and waited.

#greta van fleet #reader fic #josh kiszka #sam kiskza #jake kiszka #danny wagner #hunger

18 notes · View notes

realtalk-princeton · 5 years

Note

To Maybach -- Anon 2023 again. Honestly, my other major option is Brown (and Penn, but that's out by now) and I'm concerned that I'd be sacrificing happiness if I choose Pton. "Happy" is a part of the Brown brand, whereas "ahhhhh" seems to be a part of Pton's. I want the name and the opportunities Pton would afford me. I suppose that's not a question, but how would you respond? Do you understand what I mean? Is it so awful to pick Pton 4 name/opportunity (in addition to the other stuff)

Sorry for the delay everyone, I just got caught up in a lot of obligations. Due to multiple popular demands from both pre-frosh and current students, I decided to structure my Brown and Princeton story in the following manner. In the first section, I’ll give my background context prior to starting college and my feelings throughout the years on the subject. In the second section, I’ll specifically address the above question in more detail with my many thoughts on key distinctions between the two schools. I think the combination will serve the purposes of everyone quite nicely. Lastly, if any pre-frosh ever want to talk to me, feel free to reach out and ask for my contact information. Or even better yet lol, I just remembered that PREVIEW started, so I guess it might be easier to just talk in person to me. I actually don’t even have class tomorrow haha. I just think that talking is sometimes easier than writing and also in these responses sometimes I have to speculate. For example, I can pretty safely state that if a pre-frosh is almost certain of being a pre-med, Brown is probably going to be a much less stressful experience, but I have no idea if this applies to you beforehand.

So anyway, even though it was four years ago, I still remember it like it was yesterday. Boy time flies. I was not the most studios or stand-out HS student. I wasn’t the valedictorian or salutatorian of a rather small school far away from major cities. While some Princetonian HS students spent summer doing lab research at universities, I spent mine goofing off with friends and traveling. We used to actually have a bonfire at the end of the school year and burned stacks of our HW up to 4 feet high lol. When it came to applying to college, I did not actually even again acceptance to NYU or BC lol even though my stats were more than up to par. I guess maybe they were concerned that I wouldn’t be a very hard-working student. Luckily, I am very fortunate that despite coming from an extremely educated family (grandfather and mom went to Columbia, Dad went to Berkeley, etc.), my parents never put that much pressure on me. So as you can imagine, I was super excited when I heard that I got into Princeton, Brown, Cornell, and some other schools. For a period of time, I was actually getting ready to go to Brown. My SO at the time had committed to URI and I was psyched by the super expressive culture of Brown. Students prided themselves on being true to themselves and also took full advantage of freedom with responsibility. The location was close enough to NYC and some kids from my HS were already there. I always hated excessive structure and authority growing up and the prospect of 70%’s A’s granted, no +/I’s, and pass/failing anything was totally alluring! On a side note, I always laugh when they say that people don’t abuse pass/fail and use it only like 10-15% of the time. Well, maybe that’s because they’re already handing out A’s like it’s water and all A-’s become A’s haha. But anyway, I was psyched. Who wouldn’t want to live at camp Brown and take it easier than HS, but still be guaranteed a legit degree on your resume? However, after I visited Princeton, connected with a large number of alumni, and actually started putting real thought into my education, my perspectives slowly, but surely started to change. I think what I really underestimated was the power of the Princeton degree and how impressive our alumni network truly is. The people I met and still meet to this day are absolutely brilliant in several respects (e.g. they aren’t just nerds in one subject) and many are focused on maximizing their impact and allocation of influence in this world. The alumni donation rate is nothing short of incredible and the chance to be part of this network was alluring. I remember meeting a guy actually who got waitlisted and was already attending Duke when he got the chance to go to Princeton. He lived every moment to the fullest with his academic pursuits, the social network of brilliant, but diverse persons, and solid career plans. Anyway, it just became more clear to me over time that while Princeton was rigorous, it’s academic qualities could be much more intimate and engaged than Brown and the intellectual horsepower of its students (mostly) created truly incredible and impactful people. Jeez lol I forget sometimes how many alumni we have on the SC, in politics, business, arts, etc. At Brown, all they do is gush over Emma Watson in an almost cult-like way (sarcasm). But anyway, I was getting pushed as you can imagine, but I was still worried as I wasn’t the best HS student and grade deflation had literally only ended the year before. But eventually, the offer was just too good to pass up. Once you become a Princeton student, your life truly does change and people will treat you give you credit solely based on this fact (whether it’s right or wrong is another story). I remember before I even committed, I was hanging out at the Princeton Club in New York and a few days later some of the guys (who literally knew me for like a few days), invited me out and basically paid of lunch at Smith and Wollensky and lauded me on my “accomplishments” lol and how they could always be resources to bolster a Princetonian. Pretty soon after I committed.

As for answering your specific question, I’m already seeing red flags. Whenever you choose a school for the name, that’s setting yourself up for a bad time. Yes, our opportunities are better. Look at the difference in endowments lol. It’s like that for a reason even though they have way more students and more grad schools. It’s also reflected as well in our post-graduation salary averages. Brown is more creative with RISD and it’s curriculum, but that doesn’t always equal more opportunities. Princeton has the most power and resources of any university on a per-student basis and gives us an incredibly powerful brand and network. That said, you should probably explore why you want to go to Princeton other than the name and brand. One of the miserable people I know picked Princeton over another school because it was the “Best” school she got into and that’s just not fun when you didn’t research enough beforehand. By contrast, I know someone who turned down Harvard for a small liberal arts school in the middle of nowhere and she had an amazing time. If you feel like and click with Brown’s social scene, that’s another reason for not going to Princeton. Academically, Princeton is better for people who want rigor and want to truly maximize their learning in a short period of time and be around amazing minds. Our depth is much better than Brown’s and it shows with how strong our students are in critical thinking skills both inside and outside of their majors. However, there is a downside to this. For example, if you want to major in physics at Princeton, you better adapt fast or be damn good at it. You can’t just “love” physics and be relatively bad at it (compared to your peers) to succeed here because we teach you to be the best students possible from professors who literally wrote your book. At Brown, sure you don’t learn as much or go as deep, but you can major in almost anything because you just aren’t held to the same standards. So there’s a tradeoff. If I majored in Brown’s business program, let me just say that I would not NEARLY be perceived by others to be so intelligent (even though I’m not lol). I know the kids in the degree, it’s not like they are dumb, but jeez lol is it a joke a bunch of the time. Relating sociology to business for example on the surface can seem like a good idea that teaches people until you actually see what they’re writing and working on. I would probably have a 4.0 without working as hard too. And I don’t mean this to mean I’m like super smart or anything. It’s just not comparable to Princeton. However, I am super blessed and thankful that I did take Economics here seriously. The kinds of critical thinking skills and the ability to analytically dissect complex multi-faceted problems that I have developed serve me very well and I feel so rewarded. I literally got a position at a hedge fund with no experience at all because the interviewer liked how I wrote a research paper on guns an applied rigorous statistical analysis in many novel ways to answer new questions. This is no different in many ways than using public information using novel techniques to find value where nobody else sees it. But overall, I think that I’m feeling Brown for you unless you are willing to work harder here for greater depth of learning. I just want to say too though that despite me working hard, I still don’t pull-allnighters almost ever and I still have achieved very high grades. You don’t have to be a genius to do well here. Take it from me. I had piss-poor test scores (by Princeton standards) and was not a valedictorian, but if you are strategic and work reasonably hard and are disciplined, the work is more than doable. I don’t want to brag because I think it promotes bad culture, but you ought to know that a student like me can succeed academically and perform at the top of their class without working in the library all the time. So you should really evaluate what kind of learning experience you want and where you will be most likely to be happy and healthy. Some people just want a break after HS and don’t care about going super deep into their learning development. That’s totally fine, but then Brown is probably better (assuming you also like the culture). Some people would really abuse Brown’s system, not really learn, develop unhealthy and bad habits, and be kind of bored. In that case, Princeton is better. It really depends on you, but if all you see here for you is a name, you’re probably shooting yourself in the foot coming here.

Anyway hope that all helps. I can answer specifics if you have them too.

Edit. also I realized how long this all is and noticed that maybe some of you should just call me or I can connect you with people I know who love Brown lol. It’s sometimes harder to write these things and express everything properly compared to like a 30-minute dinner conservasation. Just putting it out there. I’m also exhausted lol from staying up until 4am the past few nights for this huge deal coming up. I did this tonight so that I wouldn’t mess up my sleep schedule any further and avoid taking a nap lol.

1 note · View note