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kimyoonmiauthor · 9 months

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This week in people trying to overextend their Degrees...

https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1742233111037870259

Original comment I'm responding to:

I'm afraid you totally misunderstood my point. 1. Many authors I know are more motivated by the impact of their intellectual productions than by the income it might generate through books and other publications. 2. Many of them face the following trade-off: will I give up income in exchange for increased readership by making my book free for download, or will I generate income while decreasing readership by charging for my book? (Note that offering a free download does not preclude also selling physical books). 3. The calculus is this: since the expected income has a 50% chance of being below $2000, I'm not going to drop my day job. Perhaps I should give up on what is likely to be a modest short-term income and maximize prestige and recognition instead. Prestige and recognition through intellectual impact can turn into future income (e.g. by getting a prestigious position). 4. Lots of people in the academic world have made this calculus and have offered their books for free download. Some of them simultaneously offer print version through publishers who don't mind (generally some non-profit university press). 5. Many of those people have realized that the free download, instead of reducing printed sales, actually *increases* sales. There are famous examples. 6. Academics are very familiar with the idea that you don't get paid directly for your writings. Scholarly publications (and talks) do not generate any income (in fact, they can cost money!). The income is indirect: intellectual or artistic impact is a precondition to a position in academia or industry research labs. 7. Computer scientists are also familiar with the concept. It's called open source software. You give away your software for free. Sometimes, your employer pays you to do so. Sometimes, you just want to make a name for yourself by contributing to an important project. 8. A similar phenomenon exists in music, particularly in jazz: a number of jazz musicians achieve financial stability through a teaching position at a university or conservatory. Additional income comes from performance. They get almost nothing from recordings. I'm not suggesting people shouldn't get paid for their work. In fact, I find it quite sad that most people can't live off of their creative work. If you can make a living by selling your books, music, or video games, more power to you! But I'm wondering whether the modus operandi that is prevalent in the academic world and the open source software world could not apply to other types of intellectual and artistic production. It may cause some creative productions to exist that would not otherwise see the light of day because of lack of commercial interest from publishers.

1. Many authors I know are more motivated by the impact of their intellectual productions than by the income it might generate through books and other publications.

Many Who? Did you read #Publishingpaidme? No? Really? Did you see the last person who declared something like this and people jumping on them—it was an agent? You haven't been paying attention. Many who? Cite your sources. Do you have sources or any publishing experience in novels? I have industry experience and I can cite sources beyond one article. Should we start with Bisheng in China?

Authors and writers who do creative works are more desperate, but want to be paid and paid fairly.

Backing into the "many" without citation creates a fallacy. You can do better as someone who teaches at NYU and has a degree teaching computer science. (Though no lie in my last project on story structure, professors were the worst at citations. And yes, I can name names with that and posted long and ranted long about that and their plagiarism.)

2. Many of them face the following trade-off: will I give up income in exchange for increased readership by making my book free for download, or will I generate income while decreasing readership by charging for my book? (Note that offering a free download does not preclude also selling physical books).

This is because society, in general misinterprets creativity and devalues it as a "real skill" It has nothing really to do with your first assumption. Much like AI often pulls from large creative datasets and devalues creativity and artists' skillsets.

Also, this doesn't prove to be true, but then you haven't really looked at selling models for books. There are more complicated things going on that you don't know and aren't accounting for.

Like the psychology of reviewers and trying to game for more reviewers when your book isn't getting attention, which you would know if you knew the last debacle with the whole gaming the Goodreads reviews by over reviewing.

The calculus is this: since the expected income has a 50% chance of being below $2000, I'm not going to drop my day job. Perhaps I should give up on what is likely to be a modest short-term income and maximize prestige and recognition instead. Prestige and recognition through intellectual impact can turn into future income (e.g. by getting a prestigious position).

Ummm… this isn't calculus. Did you take Calculus? I did This seems like a mix of unsupported statistics pulling numbers wherever you feel like it without cross referencing.

You're trying to use fancy words to sound smarter while proving you don't seem to understand basic psychology and don't know how publishing, artists, or self-publishing works.

Most artists don't do things for prestige value. They don't want to be famous. It's more like sharing is caring. This might be your value set, but it's not everyone's. Have you interacted with artists and creatives? The majority of the time we're swapping different techniques and trying to help each other to the top, again, see Xiran's expose on Goodreads debacle.

For those who want to be famous, etc, you know what they preach over and over again? Don't fuck this up for the rest of the artists: Make sure you get paid for your art.

Do you need a name? John Scalzi. He is famous for saying both things.

You need another name? Harlan Ellison. Harlan Ellison argued freaking hard for this. He won court cases for us. He is famous for preaching over and over again to make sure you get paid while also wanting the prestige.

Most artists that want prestige alone don't survive in the publishing industry. It simply doesn't work because you need the skill set to go with it, and there are certainly less masochistic ways to gain prestige.

You have who exactly? Desperation isn't the same as knowing marketing skills.

Lots of people in the academic world have made this calculus and have offered their books for free download. Some of them simultaneously offer print version through publishers who don't mind (generally some non-profit university press).

This isn't calculus either. Many who? This is also false equivalency. There is a faster road and more sure road to this than getting a novel published or a nonfiction book published. You should realize the fallacy of this and also be able to own you just don't know the artists that create the art you're claiming on.

Many of those people have realized that the free download, instead of reducing printed sales, actually increases sales. There are famous examples.

No. It increases customer dissatisfaction, actually to give things away from free. I can cite Mur Lafferty with a lot of interviews with self-publishers. You have who, exactly to back your assertion?

Second one backs the assertion. I could go more academic, but it's not like you're pulling anything to support your assertions, despite being an NYU professor.

It's actually a higher satisfaction rate to charge for your book rather than to give it out for free. You get better reviews. So when people charged 1.99 for their books over free, the amount of reviews and reviewer satisfaction went up. This might be inverse of what you expect, but this is well-known among self-pubbed authors.

Psychologically, this is inverse because sometimes people think cheap is lower quality. And free is the equivalent of a mattress left on the curb–it must be used and worn and not very good–in fact it might have bed bugs.

Academics are very familiar with the idea that you don't get paid directly for your writings. Scholarly publications (and talks) do not generate any income (in fact, they can cost money!). The income is indirect: intellectual or artistic impact is a precondition to a position in academia or industry research labs.

Academics is not the same thing. You're asserting that you know because oranges are also fruit like apples, so growing oranges must be exactly like apples. That's not the case. Because Academia takes a different skill set, but a related skill set from creating books in the creative sphere. It doesn't seem you have enough publishing knowledge to back your claim, so you try to make a related claim and then claim the feelings around it must be the same.

Because the proess of publishing nonfiction and novels and short stories is different from academia, the atmosphere and the reasons why people want to publish or have a publishing career also change. There is a lot of difference in this industry compared to academia.

But it's not. It simply is not. Also, academic papers get better pay than your average article. Ask me how I know this. I fucking looked it up. You get better residuals too, in the form of prestige means you get better pay in your career itself. It doesn't work this way in general publishing. You can fuck up one day and lose your entire career. The publisher says goodbye, no more sorry, you didn't sell well that we no longer want your books. BTW, you need a reference? Brandon Sanderson said this on Writing excuses that he felt lucky that he's been able to have a continued career in this regard.

Computer scientists are also familiar with the concept. It's called open source software. You give away your software for free. Sometimes, your employer pays you to do so. Sometimes, you just want to make a name for yourself by contributing to an important project.

Open source software is totally a different type of field and psychology from what you're arguing here. Also false equivalency and computer science as a core career pays well, that people can do it for prestige? No. They want to innovate the field further and try to find other computer programmers and learn and explore things.

My Dad was a computer engineer. I know this from personal experience of being near computer engineers. I know how they think. I also worked professionally in UX. You're thinking the psychology must be the same without experiencing the people. This is over extending.

A similar phenomenon exists in music, particularly in jazz: a number of jazz musicians achieve financial stability through a teaching position at a university or conservatory. Additional income comes from performance. They get almost nothing from recordings. I'm not suggesting people shouldn't get paid for their work. In fact, I find it quite sad that most people can't live off of their creative work. If you can make a living by selling your books, music, or video games, more power to you! But I'm wondering whether the modus operandi that is prevalent in the academic world and the open source software world could not apply to other types of intellectual and artistic production. It may cause some creative productions to exist that would not otherwise see the light of day because of lack of commercial interest from publishers.

No. You're jumping in order to cover your lack of knowledge of a thing. Focus on the feelings of the publishing industry. Show your knowledge of the people that produce books.

Jazz Musicians don't have the same psychology either.

So, in total, you're confessing you don't know anything about publishing industry, how it operates and who is working in it and for what reasons, but assert you must know because apples are fruit like oranges, so you have to be growing apples and oranges in the exact same way–don't you water them and put them into full sun? So then you must be able to understand that how you grow them and the pests that come onto them and the things the farmers have to care about as an apple grower and an orange grower must be exactly the same.

This is how your argument sounds like. Why not actually do the investigating and stop spitballing and, ya know, act like an academic and ASK THE PEOPLE and stop doing your backfire effect in the wrong way?

Also, it might behoove you to look into scams writers face and why people fall for those scams.

BTW, Anthropology Degree and minor in comp lit. Also published. So yeah, I know what I'm doing when I pick on your argument.

#writing advice #problems with academia #stop misusing your degrees #investigate and actually have citations before making big false claims #fuck it as artists get paid

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astriiformes · 2 years

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Hi! I’m a different person asking about applying for herbarium jobs. I actually followed you a little bit ago specifically because I saw you post about working in one, I just hadn’t gotten the courage up to ask about it.

I’m in college now, with plans to go into plant research, and I’m probably going to graduate with a good amount of lab experience. I recently realized though that herbarium work might also be a good fit for me. I’m not quite sure what to ask here, but is there anything that would make that transition difficult? Or anything I should know or focus on before I graduate? I saw you said you had more of a science background so maybe you know what I’m getting at here

Thanks!

So, full disclosure, my herbarium position was a work-study job last year (I have had a.... winding and tenuous path through college and am currently going back to school at 26 to attempt to finish my Bachelor's by doing a weird syncretic individualized degree instead of a standard biology one) and I do not have experience with applying for similar positions as a graduate or more standard professional candidate, which can obviously be quite different for some jobs.

That said, I don't know how long you have left in school, but looking to see if your own university offers any similar options OR if there's a local herbarium or museum where you could volunteer in your (limited, I imagine) free time would probably serve to make you a good candidate for herbarium work. Even working or volunteering in non-herbarium collections may help -- I know one thing that came up as a positive in my interviews was that I already had a lot of collections experience on my resume, even though it was all in zoology and paleontology collections. Any collections job will get you acquainted with basic curatorial duties and procedures, and may even familiarize you with specific methods of data entry or other skills you can namedrop on your resume. Even if it's volunteer work (all of mine was -- my herbarium position was my first ever paid collections job) it's a great thing to be able to show you have experience in.

As far as particular difficulties go... nothing particularly glaring is coming to mind. Working or volunteering in a collections job as a student before you graduate would also probably help you figure out if it's the right field for you, which is always another bonus. If you've largely got lab experience I'm sure you're very familiar with the tedium of data entry even when you're doing cool research (although there is the occasional entertaining error message, haha) and a lot of collections work is pretty data entry-heavy, though with the immense bonus that you are entering data about some pretty fascinating things and may find yourself crying over the human experience while handling lichen specimens that were collected in the mid-19th century (I speak from experience).

Best of luck with whatever route you go down, and I'd love to be able to consider you a collections comrade. Folks who make the jump from research science to museums are sometimes particularly great advocates for the importance of specimen collections, considering how useful they can be to researchers and having the background to explain how collections are used for contemporary science and not simply kept around as relics of the past, which may be an angle for you to consider if you dip your toes into the field.

(And don't be shy if you ever have other questions! I love talking about this stuff.)

#nate at the museum

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byologee · 3 years

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an actually practical guide to being premed and getting into med school by someone who did it successfully

Majors and Classes:

Personally I feel you should choose a major that will be complementary to your premed studies-- something STEM or social science based that overlaps with your premed classes and will allow you to take upper level science classes that relate to physiology, disease and illness, pharmacology, etc. HOWEVER do not let this deter you from majoring in a non-bio STEM area like biochem or from pursuing a different science or liberal arts major.

That being said, consider double majoring in Public Health because it is very relevant to premed and going into medicine.

Make sure you take the correct order of bio and chem classes. This is important so that you take classes at the appropriate time when you have the appropriate skill level and so that you do not have any gaps in your premed education or major classes.

Be aware of what upper level bio and chem classes require prereqs that are not a part of your major requirements or premed requirements; for example some upper level bio classes require microbio which is not a premed requirement at all schools NOR always a major requirement. Plan your underclassmen years accordingly to allow you to fit in certain prereqs for upper level classes.

If you plan on taking lower level lab intensive courses, take them as an underclassman-- they will prepare you with basic lab skills you can apply to upper level classes and to irl lab work, plus most of your classmates will be underclassmen. You do not want to take these lower level lab intensive courses as an upperclassman. You will be bored and probably annoyed.

Take an intro level public health class as an underclassmen to see if you are interested in public health; this will also be relevant to your med school apps.

Gen chem 1 and orgo 1 are weedout classes. Many people will switch from premed and/or bio to public health or prePA after taking gen chem 1 and orgo 1. This is normal; don’t be judgemental. If you’re the one switching to public health or prePA, don’t feel bad or ashamed.

Do not take orgo 1 or 2 with super hard progressors. It’s just not worth it. Many people say that harder orgo progressors prepare you better for the MCAT, but this is false as the MCAT does not have a lot of orgo on it. Many people will fail out of orgo even without super hard professors. Set yourself up for success by taking orgo profs with good reputations, not profs with reputations for failing everyone, being purposefully difficult, or just nasty.

If you take a (relatively) “easy” professor for orgo 1, under no circumstances should you take a hard prof for orgo 2. You will suffer.

The best way to study orgo 1 and 2 is to memorize all the reactions. Copy reactions until you have them memorized. Then you can simply apply what you’ve memorized to synthesis reactions. This works for NMR too, just memorize what NMR specs look like and apply.

Always go to TA office hours for gen chem 1, 2 lab and orgo 1, 2 lab. The lab reports are very difficult and the TAs can help you more than professors can. Professors will be mostly absent for labs. TAs will know what’s up.

You do not need to take biochem 2 for the MCAT, biochem 1 will suffice as it generally covers amino acids and proteins and not respiration and metabolism. Most of the biochem on the MCAT is about amino acids and proteins; all metabolism can be self-studied. (This is my opinion to save you time, if your advisors tell you otherwise LISTEN TO THEM and not me).

If you take AP psychology you do not need to take intro psych.

You need to take a sociology course for the MCAT and premed reqs. You should take The Sociology of Deviance if offered at your college as this is more relevant to the MCAT than intro socy.

If you have to take a professional writing class for Gen Eds, try to take a science writing or health professions writing course as these will be relevant to you.

Take stats even if you don’t have to as it is very relevant for understanding papers.

If you switch to another pre-health path like prePA or prepharm you will generally have to take different prereqs. Clear this with your advisors and come up with a plan.

Med schools like to see a diversity in courses and not just science courses, so you need to take at least 8 humanities credit hours. Diversify your college education and take interesting and relevant humanities courses; this will also help with CARS on the MCAT.

Research

Many medical schools want you to have research experience. You can do clinical research or bench research.

You should start research early, either 2nd semester freshman year or summer before sophomore year.

The best advice is to research professors and PIs in the BSCI and public health departments and email ones you are interested in about working in their lab. You can do this before 2nd semester freshman year or during that semester. Email example: Hi Dr. X, I am an undergraduate freshman at UMD and am looking for research opportunities in X field. I discovered your lab and read your paper, “X,” and am very interested in this subject! Elaborate on what interested you I was wondering if there are any open positions in your lab for an undergraduate researcher. I have taken X, X, X, courses. I would be interested in working in your lab for 2 years. Please let me know if you have any openings! Best, X

PIs generally look for undergrads to commit to 2 years of research, but you can quit earlier if you feel like it. This is also why you should do research earlier-- that way you are not cramming it in during your upperclassman years.

The goal is to get some abstracts, posters, presentations, and maybe a pub out of it, but these things aren’t absolutely necessary.

Clinical Experience

Med schools like to see 10 months of continuous clinical experience, which translates to about 200 hours. However, this number is too low and to be really competitive for med school apps you should aim for 1000 hours if not more.

The best way to gain clinical experience is to work part time as a scribe, CNA, MA, or tech. You can take CNA and MA courses the summer before sophomore or junior year and apply to positions online. CNA/MA gives you a lot of experience working with patients. Scribing gives you a lot of experience working with doctors and seeing what they do. It’s best to start clinical experience sophomore year or junior year so you can gain enough hours prior to applying.

You should also have clinical volunteering hours which you can get by volunteering at hospitals such as Children’s or Shady Grove or any other local hospital. Other clinics also accept volunteers, you just have to look around. Check your health professions advising office (hereon abbreviated as HPAO) for their recommendations and job listings if available.

You can also shadow doctors. Your HPAO may have a continuously updating list of physicians in your area who are available to shadow. You can also genuinely just email local providers. Note that you will need to shadow a DO if applying DO.

Check your HPAO listserv for job openings and clinical volunteering opportunities.

You can find jobs by googling “CNA job near me” or “scribe job near me” and browsing postings on Indeed and other job sites, or alternatively postings on hospital sites.

Community Service

Med schools like to see 10-12 months of continuous community service, or around 200 hours. This is too low, and you should aim for around 600 to be a competitive applicant.

Join school listservs and look for volunteer postings. Go to your school’s First Look Fair or college organization fair (usually held at the beginning of each semester) and sign up for emails from clubs that do volunteering or other various organizations. There are many organizations on campus that do volunteering and service.

Ideally you want to work with marginalized communities off campus. This sounds shitty but you want to work with communities who need it. You should also aim for a sustained service opportunity, not a once a month thing but a weekly, continuous experience. Volunteering through clubs and societies like the women’s premed organization are not valid experiences.

Google local homeless shelters, women’s shelters, STD testing clinics, and food banks-- these are all really good places to volunteer at. You can also volunteer at crisis hotlines.

You can also utilize clinical experience for community service, so volunteering at a hospital, clinic, urgent care, etc. But you also need non-clinical community service, so make sure to prioritize both.

Consistency is key. Doing an experience for a longer period of time (ex. 4 hours every week for 10 months- year) is very valuable. Even doing an hour of volunteering at the same place every week for two years is great. Building relationships, gaining experience, understanding consistency-- med schools value this. Long term experience is very important.

Extracurriculars

You should also be involved in extraneous, non-community service based organizations and extracurriculars. It’s ok if these organizations include some aspect of community service. This can also include paid-positions that are not clinical.

Examples include campus ministries, sports, dance, art clubs, music/choir, social, restorative, and environmental justice organizations, interest groups, tutoring, co-ed frats, etc.

Joining societies, like the American Women’s Medical Association or your college’s namesake Pre-Med Society is a great way to do extracurriculars, build your resume, and get leadership experience. You can also join major-specific societies.

Check with your HPAO for a list of pre-health societies you can join. Your college will also have a website or list of clubs and orgs you can investigate.

Med schools like to see that you are well-rounded, so having a variety of experiences is important.

Advising

It is extremely important that you build a relationship with your advisors. It is very important that you outline all the classes you want to take with them and when AND that you meet with them every semester. Discuss your plans with them, ask questions, ask for suggestions and tips. If you make any major or minor changes you need to speak with them too. They are a resource; use them.

You will also need to build a relationship with your pre-med advisors at your HPAO. You may need to do an intro workshop to be able to meet with an advisor at your HPAO.

Meet with an HPAO advisor every semester to outline your courseload, volunteering, clinical work, extracurriculars, and application plan. Your HPAO advisor will help you craft a narrative for med school apps and can help advise you with regards to coursework and what opportunities to pursue. They can help you decide when to take the MCAT, when to apply, devise a school list, etc. so it’s best to start meeting with them early. The better your relationship with your HPAO advisor, the stronger the recommendation letter you’ll get from them.

If your grades drop you NEED to speak with an HPAO advisor. You should be checking in with them every semester to go over your grades and course history and make sure you are on the right track to apply. This is really really crucial.

If your HPAO offers workshops for applying to med school, crafting a school list, financing med school, writing a personal statement, etc. then GO TO THEM. Utilize the resources that are available to you.

Make sure you are on your HPAO listserv.

If your HPAO offers peer to peer advising consider using this resource to speak with current college students who are going through the application process.

2 Areas Med Schools Look At: Leadership + Diversity and Inclusion

These are two hot topics med schools care about. Here is how to address them.

Leadership: there are numerous ways to gain leadership experience; getting elected to a leadership position in a club or organization, being a TA or UA, getting a management position at your job, or being any kind of team leader in a community service endeavor. The important thing is that you are able to express what you learned and how you grew or changed from that experience, plus how you will apply what you learned in the future.

Diversity and Inclusion: Hot topics in medicine right now, my advice is to read about diversity and inclusion in medicine and what it means-- read articles, op-eds, peer-reviewed papers, etc. There are a few ways to go about this issue; one is to find out what is unique about you that you can contribute to medicine, the second (and most important) is to work with underserved and marginalized communities. Being able to express in med school apps and interviews that you understand the difficulties faced by marginalized groups and are committed to better health and wellness outcomes is REALLY important. Being able to show awareness about diversity in medicine is so key. To do this, spend time working with the marginalized and underserved through community service and clinical work. Be able to show med schools that you understand and care about diversity and inclusion.

You should be thinking about leadership and diversity/inclusion throughout all four years of undergrad-- how will you incorporate these things into your app?

Letters of Rec

Getting letters of rec (you will need 5-6) is very important. To do this you will need to build relationships with the following…

Professors: You will need recommendations from 2 science professors and 1-2 non-science professors. To get recs you need to go to office hours, ask questions in class and outside of class, email profs questions, stay after class to ask questions, participate, show an interest in what they are teaching. Office hours are important unless the class is small. Build relationships with professors ALL THROUGHOUT undergrad. Go to office hours even if you don’t have questions, especially in junior and senior year. Go and ask them to review prior tests and papers. Ask if you can explain concepts to them to get clarification. Listen to other peoples’ questions, piggyback off them. A prof is not going to write a LOR unless they know you.

Physicians: You need to have clinical experience to get an MD LOR. And you NEED an MD or DO LOR. Get the clinical experience, then ask whatever physician you worked with the most for an LOR. Many will say you do not need a DO LOR to apply to DO schools; I cannot advocate for this as I was told by my premed advisor that I needed one. Be safe and get one if you plan to apply DO.

Other: If there is anyone else who knows you well and can write a strong LOR, ask them. Your boss, manager, volunteering organizer, team leader, club sponsor-- whomever.

Committee Letter (CL): Many med schools require these. Your college probably has a unique CL process. Go to workshops, research, and ask your advisors how this process works. Maintain a relationship with your premed advisors to obtain a good CL letter.

Building a Narrative

This is talked about a lot junior and senior year when you are applying, but it’s important to think about building your narrative all four years of undergrad.

What this means is that you want to center your application around a theme or common experiences. You want to build a cohesive resume of common volunteering, clinical, and extracurricular experiences that complement each other. You should be able to summarize all of your experiences and draw a narrative about you based on what you have done.

For example, my narrative centered around marginalized and underserved communities as well as social and restorative justice. I used my volunteering experience with marginalized, underserved kids and my experience working with traditionally underserved patients to explain why I want to be a physician, what my medical vision and mission is, and what I have learned about medicine. Because I am interested in family medicine I was able to tie my experience working with the underserved into my goal of improving community health and welfare among marginalized groups. I also discussed how my passion for social and restorative justice ties into my clinical experiences and how I plan to integrate this passion into my practice of medicine.

One of my friends centered her narrative around being a Spanish-speaking person of color AND the descendent of physicians and how this has shaped many of her experiences in medicine and healthcare.

You don’t have to plan out your experiences to conform to a pre-chosen narrative. You do have to be able to draw common themes and lessons from your experiences, however.

MCAT

Talk to your premed advisor about when to take the MCAT and what classes you need to take prior to taking the MCAT. Ideally you want to take biochem 1, physics 2, and sociology of deviance before taking the mcat along with all other prereqs.

You also want to take the MCAT before applying (ideally) so that you can craft an appropriate school list. Your MCAT will give you a boundary for which schools you can apply to. Think of the MCAT as a checkpoint you must pass to apply to certain med schools.

Many people start content review six months before their test. Some start 2-3 months prior. Do what you think is comfortable.

You can use books or purchase review courses (Kaplan, Princeton Review) or use free online review content (Khan Academy).

Practicing how to take the test is more important than content review. What that means is that doing practice tests will help you more than reviewing content. Take as many practice tests as you can (AAMC makes their own).

Do a practice test one day, review what you got wrong the next day. Repeat this enough times and you will do well on the MCAT (511+).

Don’t anticipate retaking the MCAT. But don’t exclude it as a possibility either, so plan when you take the MCAT accordingly.

General Advice:

ALWAYS listen to your premed advisors. Do not elevate advice given by random strangers (including me) on the internet above advice given by your advisors. They know you. They know your history, your transcript, your personality. Us internet people do not. Trust your advisors. They know what they are doing.

Take everything said on the internet by supposed med school app experts, med students, doctors, premeds, SDN mods and commenters, premed redditors, and other random internet people with a BIG grain of salt. We don’t always know what we are talking about.

Limit the amount of time spent on SDN and premed reddit as well as other premed online forums. It can get unhealthy real fast.

You don’t have to study all the time. It’s ok to take breaks and have fun.

Don’t be afraid to reach out and get help or ask questions. Everyone else is struggling too. Your professors want you to do well.

Do non-science related things. Give your mind a break and diversify your experience.

Failing a test is not the end of the world. Many people fail tests and classes. You won’t be alone. Always remember that the curve exists.

If you are having a problem, talk to your professors and TAs. They are there to help.

Study with people. Quiz each other. Make study guides and ask each other questions. Help each other out.

Utilize campus resources- tutoring, study groups, yoga classes, conferences and seminars, counseling, etc.

Buy the MSAR when you start building your school list. It will make comparing schools so much easier.

A B or even a C is not going to ruin your chance of getting into medical school. People get in to med schools with 3.1 GPAs. You will be ok if you fail one test, have a few Cs or Bs, withdraw from a class, etc.

Getting into med school is more about fit than anything else. It’s not about how smart you are or how good your GPA or MCAT is. Everyone has a 4.0 Everyone has a 528. What matters is fit-- who you are, what you believe, what your values are, what your aspirations are-- and how you can demonstrate these things through your application, interview, and overall experiences. Remember that top tier schools are research-oriented (Einstein, Baylor, Johns Hopkins, Harvard, Stanford, NYU, Duke, Mayo, UChicago, Mt Sinai) whereas other lower tier will be more community focused.

ALL med schools (excluding caribbean med schools and a few DO schools, looking at you DMUCOM and LECOM) are valid. All med schools are good med schools. Med school is med school is med school. You will come out with an MD or DO and you will get into residency.

Always apply DO. Just do it. DO is great, DO is a viable option and good opportunity. Do it. Do not exclude it.

Links and other Resources:

AAMC: MD applicants, helpful resources in general https://students-residents.aamc.org/preparing-medical-school/preparing-medical-school

AACOM: DO applicants https://www.aacom.org/become-a-doctor/how-to-apply-to-osteopathic-medical-college

MSAR: handbook to med schools (MD) https://students-residents.aamc.org/medical-school-admission-requirements/medical-school-admission-requirements-applicants

AAMC’s how to apply to med school https://students-residents.aamc.org/applying-medical-school/applying-medical-school

AAMC’s FAQ and tips to creating a good app: https://students-residents.aamc.org/ask-experts/ask-experts-create-winning-application

Why Diversity Matters in Healthcare https://explorehealthcareers.org/career-explorer/diversity-matters-health-care/

#premed #prehealth #studyblr #med school #mcat #my posts #mine

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xstarlightthemoonwolfx · 4 years

Text

Finally reunited

Albedo x reader (oc)

♡❁*❁*♡

Albedo x f! s/o Sum: s/o is an alchemist like albedo ,s /o also is albedo's partner in the alchemy ,they work together under albedo's master hands,when albedo is send to Mondstadt ,s/o have go with him and stayed for a few weeks ,but it seem like their master had other plans for the female alchemist,and she was soon send to Liyue ,even with that they still contact each other though letters for many years, after another wonderful successful year of research s/o was finally finished her duties as the alchemist of Liyue,her alchemy at Liyue has reached its end,and the night of Christmas eve .s/o decided to met up with the acting grand master jean and tell her how she want to work with the master of alchemist albedo ,jean take the offer ,not knowing that you knew albedo before and that night on Christmas Eve was the night albedo and his Darling s/o met again and will never leave too.❁*ﾟEnjoy❁*ﾟ

'ꫂ͙ꨩ⃟͙˖⃟꒰ ཻུ۪۪❁꫶͙ꪳᬽ'ꫂ͙ꨩ⃟͙˖⃟꒰ ཻུ۪۪❁꫶͙ꪳᬽ'ꫂ͙ꨩ⃟͙˖⃟꒰ ཻུ۪۪❁꫶͙ꪳᬽ'ꫂ͙ꨩ⃟͙˖⃟꒰ ཻུ۪۪❁꫶͙ꪳᬽ'ꫂ͙ꨩ⃟͙˖⃟꒰ ཻུ۪۪❁꫶͙ꪳᬽ'ꫂ͙ꨩ⃟͙˖⃟꒰ ཻུ۪۪

s/o was standing in front of the gates to the City of freedom Mondstadt,she had just left Liyue two days ago.s/o was so excited about working with albedo as his partner once again,the guards was nice checking if your somewhat dangerous thing that could bring harm to the people of Mondstadt.but of course you easily got in.walking your way to the see master jean .....but you got lost,you were looking around and finally you decide to ask for help it was at this moment (that he knew he f***ed up) someone bump into you you and that person quickly stand up and apologies even if you did nothing wrong ,when you were younger you have habits of apologizing even if it your fault and albedo always said that was a cute trait of yours,even if you were sorry your monotone made it hard for others to accept the apologize.Now back to reality,you looked at the person and it was a boy around 15 blond hair Honey eyes with a cute human kid like flying companion .you asked the boy where was he heading only to find out he going to see master jean s/o told the boy that she was looking for jean as well but you got lost ,the boy who you know is the traveler the hero that saved Mondstadt & Liyue ,help you to see jean as a apologize for bumping into you. With only few minutes we have arrived at jean's office.

Aether and paimon which you could they learn their names while walking to knights of favonius HQ, walked into jeans office only to come out with some papers and talking with each other something about hunting monsters like slimes ect...s/o The traveler and his companion for disappearing behind the office door.Aether and paimon quickly left us together some important ingredients for the Christmas Eve celebration at the knights of favonius HQ thank you to the knights for their hard work protecting the city. As you walked in Jean open her mouth and start talking to you(J=jean s/o= significant other) J:"greetings , you must be the new Tourist in town". s/o:"indeed it's a great honor to finally meet you master Jean" J:"please Jean is just fine , may I know your name?" s/o:"ah, my apologies where are my matters, I'm s/o Chief alchemist of Liyue harbour" s/o said in a monotone voice while she bow in front of jean,Jean was surprised to hear the Chief alchemist of Liyue harbour came to visit Mondstadt and to see her in such a cold month of the year. J:"please stand up, may I ask what brings you here?and why shouldn't be at Liyue?" s/o:"as you see i finish my research at Liyue and also want to add more mystery of the world to my book ,so i think Mondstadt would be a good place to stay for now." s/o:"I came here for proposal I was wondering if I can work with the Chief alchemist of the knights of favonius Albedo?" Jean almost fainted by the proposal that Chief alchemist of Liyue harbour offered. J:"and may i ask why?" Trying to keep her position without jumping in joy ,s/o open hear lips to answer Jean's questions.while that was happening Albedo in the other hand was in the village buying supplies for his experiment, walking though the crowd and stopping to buy some seed in a flower shop accidentally over hearing a conversation between the shopkeeper and a young woman,"did you know that Chief alchemist of Liyue harbour announce that she has finished her researchers in Liyue,and she decided to go on a journey to research more?","really? I heard that she was a beautiful girl with a genius mind too","I heard that too people in Liyue said that its true but I guess we'll never know","I also heard from people who had with our Chief alchemist of the knights of favonius Albedo that her alchemist is the same level as Albedo". Albedo quickly snap out of his thinking about the mysterious Chief alchemist of Liyue harbour,and paid for the seed only to find out its free just for him Albedo walked out of the shop just for him to think about this mysterious other Chief alchemist,the problem is that you ,s/o had never mentioned anything about you being THE Chief alchemist of Liyue harbour . So he's going to be in for a surprise tonight at the Christmas eve celebration.Back to s/o,you had just finished talking to Jean about your proposal ,which jean accepted the offer.s/o was invited to the Christmas eve celebration as a way to welcome and also introduce you to everyone else. s/o walked around town to buy some food, having fun as she had never been on a day without work before so she's trying to enjoy it as possible.

Night have arrived,and you? You were still in your everyday outfit but for others they called it the lab outfit since you never actually had a day off so the Lab outfit is like your daily outfit,you were never really cared about your outfit so you just walked to the knights of favonius HQ . walking in you ask the other knights that was invited to the party were it was they told you the way as they left to buy some needs for them or for the party,as you walked closer to the door you hear chatting, you knock on the door hearing a light "ah ,that might be our new member!", you said"hey ,jean can i come in?"still in your monotone.On the other side of the door, Albedo really didn't want to come but if it was for klee happiness he'll do anything aside from that Albedo was also wondering like other knights including Aether ,paimon and not surprisingly venti what the new member looks like or their background or how they got in was a mystery to them ,a knock was heard and jean let out"ah ,that might be our new member!" and responding to her was a light "hey ,jean can i come in?" the door muffled the person voice only for the words to be heard only ,jean said"yes ,you can . Everyone i want you to met our new member she going to be working with albedo from now on" jean had surprise everyone in the room,as the door open everyone eyes was on the that person though the door. You look at the people in front and seeing Albedo had make your eyes shine and more colourful with the red blood like iris it had,"Hello everyone, I'm s/o Chief alchemist of Liyue harbour I'm happy to-" before you can finish your words , Albedo hug you tightly pulling you and him to the ground. everyone was lost for words at Albedo's action.Albedo then ask you"So.... what is it?".you reply "huh?" .then to remember the moment before you left him to visit Liyue .

*flashing* "I'm missing you already" Albedo said in a sad tone ,only you can bring his emotions out"I'll promise when im done we'll met again, Albedo", Albedo pulling you into a hug and kiss you softly and said "when you're back let me know if you want to be my Prinzessin? But for now think about it" it was the last thing you remember leaving you surprised before the cart leave for Liyue*end*.

Albedo looking at your eyes it was the most interesting thing that he never ever get bored of. Albedo ask you"so I'll ask again, will you s/o be my Prinzessin(princess) to honor my title as the Kreideprinz?".s/o breaking her emotionless Act by smiling softly, that smile of yours could kill Albedo but he'll still be happy,s/o was more than happy that she could Only find five words.s/o start crying this wasn't sad tears,no...it was the same happy tears that fall down that day when you found out Albedo feels the same about you, Albedo worries ask your tears fall down he was scared that he did something wrong .s/o open her lips and Said"YES!a million times yes!"hugging Albedo tightly, Albedo on the other hand was satisfied by your answer, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a heated kiss.

Wow that was LONG but hope you enjoy my first ever one shot on Tumblr!♡❁*

#genshin impact #albedo #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #i need sleep

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themurphyzone · 4 years

Note

3, 4, 13, 26, 27, & 34!

Thanks for the ask @plutonis! I’m sorry this is gonna be long cause I’m gonna rant about a WIP concept that may not ever come to fruition.

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

I honestly don’t know. I think it’s just easier for my work to be noticed in a small fandom than a larger one.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

I borrowed a lot from skimmingsurfaces and SylviaW1991. I was inspired to write my first PatB story last year from their works.

Pluto listens to me scream about torturing mice, plus her works are always great if you like that bittersweet/downright tragic vibe.

@deez-art for kickstarting the PatB Disney AU trend.

Big shout out to everyone in Air Mice Nyoom for the mutual support!

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

My first posted fic was for Phineas and Ferb way back in 8th grade, but I did fill up quite a few notebooks with Pokemon stories. My writing has improved a lot over the years, mostly because I never attempted to post my Phineas and Ferb/Sonic Underground crossover on the net. I was in middle school and we were all dumb at that age XD

That one still haunts me...I think I still have it somewhere in a notebook.

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

Can’t say. Everybody in this fandom is so nice and I love hearing what people love about my stories.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

From the ending of Eurydice:

"Just say narf, just say narf.

We're alright, we're okay, so let's say narf.

You and I will have tomorrow nights again.

No matter what happens, I'm always your friend…"

I’m proud of my happy ending okay they needed it.

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

I have a WIP concept for a 101 Mice based off 101 Dalmatians, which would’ve involved a number of OCs (yes, including a group of OC Brinky kids.), but it might not get anywhere tbh. Mostly because I don’t really deal in OCs unless they’re minor characters.

The concept: The villain would’ve been an OC named Malicia de Vil, who’s a niece to the original Cruella. Basically she’s an eccentric rich woman who became interested in breeding mice to create fur trimmings for accessories and dresses (since the story takes place in southern California, an entire fur coat would be impractical), and ACME Labs took the generous funding they were given by her to create Project Gloss, which would’ve raised hundreds of baby mice to adulthood until their fur was ready for collection.

To accomplish this, the gene splicer from the failed Project BRAIN would be reconfigured to splice genes that favor long, lush fur, and sentience was just a throwaway side effect this time around. However, the mice subjected to this experiment were much younger than the ones used in Project BRAIN, and many didn’t survive.

Brain is in the middle of his usual plans of world domination when someone brings in 2 survivors of Project Gloss just after the gene splicing. They’re left in a different cage across the room and are squeaking from hunger and cold. Pinky is immediately drawn to the babies since he’s got a bad case of Empty Nest Syndrome since Romy left home, and so does Brain but it’s not like he’ll admit it. Brain warns about getting attached, but nope these are Pinky’s babies now, so Brain unlocks the cages for his friend so he can go care for the babies.

Still trying to salvage the plan, Brain goes into the gene splicer room to obtain a few spare parts for his machine...then he hears a tiny, weak squeak, and discovers a small, barely alive, gene-spliced mouse baby. Brain tries to steel himself against it and tries to gather what he needs first then retrieve the baby immediately afterward, but the squeaking suddenly stops and Brain panics, immediately dropping the plan in favor of warming up and reviving the baby. Thankfully, she survives.

Pinky is confused when Brain shows him the 3rd baby, but he quickly accepts her along with the other two. Brain is highly emotional at this point and just plops against Pinky, and he finds that Pinky has already named the two babies he was taking care of Colby Jack and Pepper Jack.

Pinky asks what Brain named the baby he’d brought in, and Brain tells Pinky he can name her if he wants, but Pinky says it’s only fair if they get to name 2 kids each, and Brain’s only named Romy so far.

So Brain concedes and after some deliberation, settles for calling the infant Amygdala (nicknamed Amy for everyday use), after the portion of the brain that controls memories and emotions. Pinky accepts the name and they sleep the rest of the night.

Brain researches the details of Project Gloss soon after the babies’ adoption and realizes that their new charges will be raised only for their fur and will be killed for it once they’re grown. So the mouse family stow away with a young intern couple who are essentially this AU’s versions of Roger and Anita so the babies can be protected. The interns, while they don’t speak mouse, care deeply enough to allow the mice to hide in a purse so they can be smuggled out of the lab and into their home. A hidden camera catches them at this though, and Malicia de Vil is highly displeased and orders the interns’ positions terminated, though neither of them are particularly upset about this.

3 months later, Colby, Pepper, and Amy are thriving, and their big bro Romy even drops in for a visit every now and then, much to Pinky and yes, even Brain’s delight. While Pinky loves his family, he also craves a date night with Brain, and they go out to dinner. Romy is having a movie night with Bunny at their own place. The babies are tucked in and asleep, and the interns are just cuddling on the couch.

Then somebody breaks in, non-fatally injures the human couple, and steals the mouse kiddos. Halfway through their dinner, Pinky is overcome by panic and thinks something is terribly wrong. Brain tries to reassure him the kids are just asleep, but Pinky won’t listen and rushes out the door in the direction of home, so fast that Brain can’t keep up. Brain stays behind to get the half-eaten meals boxed up and paid for, annoyed with Pinky for breaking the date night.

By the time Brain gets back, Pinky is a complete mess, the humans are just calling 911 to report a break-in and injuries, and the kids are nowhere to be found.

Eventually Brain finds a lead that points to the de Vil mansion, and the two set out to rescue their kids. They also recruit Romy and Pharfignewton’s help in the journey.

This took way too long to type lol XD

#pinky and the brain #thanks for reading my rant #i know it's long #ask meme

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fletchphoenix · 4 years

Text

Start Of Something New

Hiya! Chapter 9! =) thank you for your support! Updates may slow down, as I am starting my last year of high school tomorrow! Woooo! But I hope you all enjoy this - sorry for the delay!

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

Hugo gently kicked open the door to his new apartment, in his arms were the last of the cardboard boxes with various different labels containing his belongings. Well, he guessed it wasn’t JUST his new apartment anymore, his boyfriend following in behind him and setting a box aside before running to get some more from his dad’s car. Varian had more belongings from him - having taken multiple days to unload his stuff alone with much help from Quirin through this process. He still couldn’t believe how much of a titan Quirin was compared to his titular son, however Varian had said he took more after his mother, and something about Quirin having served in the military of Lunaris prior to settling down in Old Corona. It was a good enough explanation for Hugo, him just accepting it at this point and not to question anything to do with the past of Varian’s family whatsoever, especially not his Aunt Adira and Uncle Hector. That pair...they terrified him to say the least, immediately giving him the most intense shovel talk of his life as soon as he met them. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory, before proceeding to unpack his last remaining boxes.

It was now July - scorching hot sun constantly pounding down onto his back without a care in the world as its heat relentlessly cursed Corona. The town was always abnormally sunny, but this? Now Hugo was almost positive the universe was actively trying to screw him over, like it had before he began dating Varian, of course. Speaking of the boy, they’d been together for six months by now and both boys decided that it was high time they moved in together. Hugo could only sneak in a select few times before Quirin had figured out what they were doing every night, and, as much as Varian’s dad trusted him, it was probably for the best that they moved in together. He just couldn’t bear to be away from the boy for too long - call it whatever you want, abandonment issues, a troubled childhood, whatever. He just wanted to make sure he was safe at all times and the only way he felt he could be sure was with the boy’s figure sleeping in his arms. What could he say, he was a fool in love, completely enamored with his boyfriend and falling in love all over again every time they met eyes.

They’d managed to afford a better apartment than the old one, which was an absolute ripoff by the way, though he was really going to miss the place. It was paid for quite easily too - Varian having found a job that he had yet to disclose to his boyfriend, though he was sure it had something to do with alchemy, and Donella had given him quite a generous raise out of nowhere for his ‘hard work and dedication’, though he was sure it was so he could afford a better place. It was a beautiful place too, already feeling so much like them with framed photographs along the walls of their most precious memories, such as New Year’s Eve and that one time they went to the aquarium, oh! And when they took Yong to a theme park for the first time! A chuckle ripped from Hugo’s throat as he recalled Yong pulling Varian towards the biggest coaster in the park, begging for Varian to go on with him. His face was priceless, jaw dropped at the sheer height of the thing as Nuru and Hugo passed up the offer. Varian had held onto his hand for hours after that as he and Nuru cackled, Yong, who had the time of his life, was buzzing with excitement for the rest of the day.

Another picture recalled the time they’d gotten matching tattoos - a small test tube on his left wrist and a beaker on Varian’s right wrist. It was a wild day - Varian’s twentieth birthday, that is. They’d just been to the coffee shop, which had become a tradition between the two on a morning to commemorate what had brought them together, when Varian, out of nowhere, had just said he wanted to do it. Hugo blindly agreed to his boyfriend’s request without a second’s thought, the pair heading through the streets to Irene’s tattoo parlour where Irene happily obliged to their requests. What Hugo hadn’t anticipated was how painful it was going to be - his hand gripping his boyfriend’s in an iron grip as he desperately tried, and failed, to hold back his shouts and strings of curses at the jolts of pain running though his body. That was an interesting birthday for Varian - Hugo silently praying his twenty-first would be less agonizingly painful than March 24th. It was coming up on October 27th, so only a few months away. He shook the thoughts from his head as he took in the rest of their apartment.

Along the hall were five doors leading off to different rooms, the first of which being a sitting room - decorated with the mass of green and blue furniture, a common theme throughout the apartment due to their fixations on the respective colours. They blended nicely together too, just like they did. Two couches sat in the room, one pressed against the wall with the glass coffee table from the old apartment in the centre on top of a teal rug. A TV sat on a separate table in the corner at a perfect angle so you could see it when sitting on either sofa (Varian had spent hours calculating the perfect angle, Hugo determining in a few minutes that if they put it in the corner, everyone could see it to which his boyfriend had to stubbornly agree that he was right). In the other corner, a cat tower sat for the fat bastard of a cat Ruddiger who would be living with them. He swore that the cat hated him - always interrupting whenever him and Varian were attempting to get...intimate. It was annoying, him resulting most nights to just shooing it out of the room and locking the door behind him.

Adjacent to the living room’s entrance was the kitchen, the tiled floor causing a clicking noise whenever he stepped. Varian had a strict rule of no shoes in the house, to which Hugo mostly abided to, but not today as he’d been overworked and severely undercompensated by his boyfriend, much to his disappointment. ‘Back to the kitchen’ he thought, taking his mind off the MANY ways his boyfriend could make up for all the unnecessary hard work he had to do. It was, yet again, the second largest room in the house, lined with marble counters and sleek, black cupboards. It had felt extremely out of place at first, not merging in well with their blue and green aesthetics whatsoever, but they made it work, attempting to decorate by placing a clock on the wall, a coffee machine that Rapunzel had bought them and, at last, a toaster. That was the thing Hugo was most excited about if he was being honest - having his very own toaster! Along with the coffee machine, Rapunzel had gifted the pair a variety of customised cups, plates, bowls..you name it, they most definitely had one that Rapunzel had slaved over making for hours just for them. A sweet act from a sweet girl, Hugo muttered to himself and rubbed his wrist absentmindely, his goggles hanging round his neck swaying as he strolled out of the room.

In a straight line from the door was the bathroom, the room housing a bath, shower, sink and toilet. A green mat was laid out on one half of the room, a blue mat meeting it in the middle and spreading out the rest of the way. Another notable article was the toothbrushes that sat in the cabinet above the sink, doubling as a mirror, with a green and blue toothbrush sitting beside each other in a glass cup. Hugo took a moment to check his appearance, fixing his ruffed up blonde hair, straightening his glasses and shooting some awkward finger guns at his reflection. He cringed for a second before heading back out into the hallway, making a sharp left and through a doorway to the next room.

Ah, yes. His and Varian’s room - a mish-mash of the two boys’ decorative decisions and personal interests. A double bed sat in the middle of the room, the covers blue as it was Varian’s turn to have made the bed, with a bedside table on either side of the bed. His table consisted of a small lamp, the book he was currently making his way through (The Tales Of Flynnigan Rider, which Varian had begged him to read for months), a picture of his absolutely adorable boyfriend and his glasses case for when he slept. Also on his side of the room (which was the left, just for the record) sat an oak desk, a grey chair tucked under it, which had the laptop Donella had gifted him placed in it, along with a cup holding his pens and pencils. Papers were stacked up above the drawers and Olivia, in her cage, sat on the opposite side, chittering softly as she slept. A wardrobe sat on his side too, one that him and Varian both shared (Varian had taken a liking, it seemed, to stealing his clothes and keeping them), it painted cyan to fit both their favourite colours.

Varian’s side was a whole different story, having a bedside table and a desk, along with a guitar propped against the side of the desk. Research papers were littered over the desk, Hugo hastily moving over to set them into a neat pile in the centre of his desk beside his laptop. That was sure to score him a few kisses from the younger boy - he was sure of it! Also on his boyfriend’s side were a lot more photos and posters on the wall - some of people he recognised and many of people he didn’t. For example, the ginger haired woman in the middle of many of them who had a wide smile plastered onto her face, who he swore he’d seen before in Donella’s office, however he couldn’t put a name to the face no matter how hard he’d racked his memory. She was in many of them too, holding baby Varian in her arms and standing beside Quirin, or with Varian in what looked like a makeshift lab, holding a test tube in one hand and the small boy in the other, Varian cuddling the woman close to him. Very heartwarming, however Hugo assumed his boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate him snooping around his side of the room, so he quickly headed out and to the highlight of the whole apartment, picking up his box along the way.

Pushing open the door to the sight of the room was always just as exhilarating for Hugo as the first time he’d been able to - his eyes meeting their makeshift lab / workshop area where they could practice their crafts expertly. He adored the room, smiling as he made his way through and dumped his box onto the counter before unpacking it. It just seemed so...them to convert the unused bedroom into their own lab space, beakers and test tubes littering the surface with microscopes and Hugo’s own toolbox sitting flush against the wall for both boys to use. He didn’t have the resources to pursue alchemy before, but meeting Varian had given him the chance to begin his research and boy howdy, he loved it! The subject was so interesting, so many different experiments to be done with ways to do it...god, he loved the subject so much. He also loved the way the other boy’s eyes lit up as he rambled about the topic to seemingly no end, his adoration on full display. It was absolutely adorable, and it helped that the couple worked together like a well-oiled machine, seamlessly sliding past each other to grab metals, acids or anything else they may need without disrupting the research at hand. It was harmonic.

Hours later, they’d finally finished the unpacking spree and slumped down onto the sofa in a tight embrace, Ruddiger obviously attempting to break it by scratching at Hugo’s ankles. Hugo paid him no mind, shaking his foot to ward the cat away as his boyfriend watched in amusement. “I swear to god, V, your cat hates me. He might as well be a raccoon with how much trash he eats-”

“Maybe if you didn’t bully and make him insecure, he wouldn’t hate you!” V responded, scooping the...unrealistically fat cat into a loving embrace and nuzzling his nose against his face. “Is he making you insecure, my beautiful boy..? You’re so beautiful.” he cooed, and Hugo could swear the cat was giving him a smug glare, anger bubbling in his stomach at the fact that a goddamn cat was getting more attention than he was - A goddamn obese cat was getting more attention from the love of his life, who he’d completely dedicated himself to, than he was! He let out a frustrated grunt, looking away and glaring at the wall, not even noticing his folded arms and childish pout. Varian had to hold back a full-blown laughing fit at how his boyfriend was acting, slowly placing the cat back on the floor and leaning against him. “Hugh..you look like a four-year-old with a pout like that.”

“So what if I do? That little..thing was grinning at me! Y’know, like the smug little bastard he is! I swear he’d plotting something!” he ranted as his boyfriend moved back into a lying position, taking Hugo’s collar in his hand and pulling him down too. It wasn’t until Varian’s legs had wrapped around his waist that Hugo had noticed the position they were in, a flush creeping onto his face. “Oh so this is my compensation?”

“Yep.”

“I..humbly accept.” He replied, leaning down and capturing the raven haired boy’s lips with his own, the other boy letting out a whine as Hugo’s teeth nipped at his bottom lip. They continued to kiss, lost in the moment with hips rocking against each other’s until Hugo suddenly jolted back. “FUCKING CAT SCRATCHED MY BACK!” he yelped, standing immediately and completely ruining the moment they were having. Varian’s glare redirected itself to Ruddiger who was, rather smugly, licking his paw and sitting on the cushions of the other couch.

“How about we go to bed? It's been a long day.” He comforted, resting his hand on his boyfriend’s back and already guiding him to their room. ‘And we can lock the door’ he decided not to add as he kicked the door to their room shut, instantly locking it almost on instinct. Hugo, however, seemed disinterested in their previous activities, already changing into pyjamas, much to Varian’s disappointment, though he wouldn’t admit it. It was strange though, how Ruddiger didn’t trust Hugo and kept on scratching and attacking him at any given chance. Usually the cat was docile or disinterested in people, never outright hostile. Maybe it WAS jealousy...could cats even feel jealousy? Now that was something he was gonna be thinking about all night..he muttered as he grabbed some pyjamas from the closet and began to change.

As he finished, he sat on the bed and Hugo’s arms wrapped around his waist to pull him into a close embrace, placing gentle kisses to the back of his head in his sleepy haze. Hugo was always lovelier when he was sleepy and when they were alone, the usual sarcastic front he put up dripping away to reveal the true nature of the boy that Varian loved so much. He could be such a gentleman if he put the effort in, like when he’d go out of his way to do the mini things for Varian, such as walking him to his classes or his tutoring job with Yong and Nuru in the library, always taking his time and slowing his pace specially for Varian to keep up with him. And the one time they’d danced together in the kitchen on the night of his birthday.

“Hugo, I’ve never done this before.” Varian had whispered, the refrigerator light being the only light in the entire kitchen, yet it was enough to show the face of the smug boy standing in front of him. He looked so handsome though, Varian just wanting to kiss that stupid look off his face. He was bowed down, some song playing throughout the small apartment as he held out his hand expectantly to the other male.

“Goggles, I’ve heard you sing. If you can do that, you’re gonna be a-okay with dancing. Just let me take the lead and keep your eyes on me, you got that?” he questioned, Varian responding with a nod and placing his hand in Hugo’s hesitantly. He was immediately pulled flush against his chest, hands wrapping around his waist as his were encouraged to wrap around the other boy’s neck. They swayed in time with the slow serenade that echoed from the living room, the dimming light being their only source of visibility. Varian didn’t care though, he was too busy staring into the eyes of Hugo, which Hugo staring back.

The music had long since stopped by now, the two freezing with their limbs entangled before Hugo pressed his lips against his, this kiss feeling like no other they’d had before. It felt so genuine, and so raw, and so real. Like Hugo was truly letting down his guard and letting Varian know that he only held love and affection for the other. It wasn’t full of lust or underlying passion - just a sweet kiss between two boys in the kitchen at god knows what time in the morning. And it was simple divine.

Varian’s lips tugged into a soft smile as he cuddled against the boy sleeping soundly behind him. That night, something new had blossomed between them. Of course they’d loved each other beforehand and they knew it, but on that night, they had wordlessly sealed their love for each other. In some ways he’d miss that old apartment purely for that memory and how perfectly cliche it was - two lovers dancing in the kitchen. It sounded like an old movie trope, right? But it was so much better than that for both of them.

Varian turned in Hugo’s grasp to face the boy and rest his head against his chest, shutting his eyes and squeezing them shut. He wasn’t gonna let this boy go, not now, not ever. He loved him more than he could ever hope to describe, from the way he had remembered Varian’s coffee order and how it always specifically needed to be vanilla, to the way that they could just be dorks, jamming out to some songs in the lab, and the way he wasn’t afraid to show Varian just how committed he was to the boy. It was all so sweet. As he drifted off the sleep, he thought to himself…

This is the start of something new, and something beautiful.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo coffee shop au

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kissjane · 4 years

Text

Like father, like son?

[I thought I’d crosspost some stories from AO3, so you may have read this already.]

Lucas tugged at his tie. He felt like it was suffocating him. In fact, the whole suit was choking him, stiff and unfamiliar. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to wear it, hell, he didn’t even know why he’d agreed to come here in the first place. No, scratch that. He knew why he’d agreed to that. Because deep down inside he still wanted his father’s approval, even after all that he had put Lucas through. And so when his dad had told him about this huge celebration at the investment firm he worked for, and that the families of the employees were invited too, and whether Lucas would be willing to come along, he’d been suspicious, surprised, but also somehow pleased that his dad would want him there. And so he’d bought a suit, been polite and gracious all evening to Véronique, his dad’s new wife, and refrained from talking about anything that might upset his dad – which crossed his mom, his friends, his living situation and his sexuality off the list and left basically just his studies. His dad had wanted to know all about Lucas’ research into molecular genetics, so Lucas had tried to explain the intricacies of his lab tests and his thesis. But after the dinner was over and the people started socializing, his dad and Véronique had stood up and started to go greet his dad’s co-workers, and left Lucas all alone, not knowing anyone.

He’d been sitting at the far end of the bar for quite a while now, bored out of his skull. He’d had a whiskey already and really wanted another one, but he didn’t think getting too buzzed would be sitting very well with his dad. Maybe it had been a mistake, maybe he should finally give up on the dream of reaching some sort of actual bond with his father. He pulled at the knot in his tie again, pondering if he could get away with just taking it off. He sighed, draining the last bit of liquid from his glass. Maybe he should go find his dad, thank him for the evening, and find his own way back home.

Suddenly a shadow fell over him as somebody sat next to him.

“Want another one of those?’, a cheerful voice inquired.

Lucas sighed again before looking up, and then he wished he’d loosened his tie quite a bit further, because all of a sudden, his throat constricted and air did no longer reach his lungs. He gaped at the sight in front of him – messy honey-coloured hair, eyes the colour of a misty sky and a toothy grin that didn’t stop at his mouth, but crept all over his high cheekbones. For a moment he wondered if he had conjured up the stranger out of pure boredom.

“Another one?”, the man repeated, a laugh ringing through the words.

“Uh, I don’t, I mean, uh –”, he stuttered – fuck, way to go, Lallemant –, and took a deep breath, “I shouldn’t. I’m trying to keep my head clear. Thanks, though…”, he ended lamely.

The stranger laughed. Lucas’ eyes travelled over his lean body, his tall frame, his broad shoulders, his long limbs.

“Not a bad plan. I should adhere to that too, probably.”

Lucas nodded, and then slapped himself mentally for his stupidity. It wasn’t like he’d never seen an attractive man before – he didn’t have to behave like the fifteen-year-old inexperienced gay boy he used to be. Although, in his defense, attractive did not begin to describe the man currently looking at him with a curious expression. Lucas almost regretted not paying better attention in his literature classes in high school, for then he might find the perfect word to describe him – gorgeous, mesmerizing, breath-taking, stunning, enthralling – Lucas didn’t feel like any of these were satisfactory.

Belatedly he realized he was gaping. He shook his head and dropped his eyes to his lap, trying to regain some mental composure, desperately attempting to come up with some form of suitable reply.

“But then again, I’ve never been good at doing what’s expected of me. I’m gonna have another one,” the stranger proceeded, as if Lucas had not just stared at him open-mouthed for a minute straight. “It’d be rude to let me drink alone, though. Please, humour me, have another one.”

Continue on AO3!

And who was Lucas to deny this god-like creature anything? He shrugged. “If you put it like that… Sure, then.”

“You always this hard to get?”

Lucas spluttered.

“Just joking! I am Eliott, by the way.”

“Lucas.”

Lucas held out his hand, and prepared for the impact when Eliott grabbed it and they shook. It still felt like his whole existence focused on where their skin touched, and Lucas hoped Eliott didn’t notice how his breath caught. Eliott signed to the bartender, who made quick work of two more whiskeys. They touched their glasses together in silence, and sipped. Lucas tried to guess what Eliott was doing here. Did he work for the same firm as his dad? God, he hoped Eliott was not an investment banker or some other financial genius, they’d never have anything to talk about. Eliott interrupted his thoughts.

“You work for the firm, Lucas?”

Lucas was about to answer, when his dad appeared out of nowhere.

“Lucas! I have been looking for you everywhere! I have been wanting to introduce you to a colleague of mine,” he said, pulling at Lucas’ arm.

Lucas was a bit perplexed by this, and turned politely to the man standing next to his father.

“Lucas, this is Michel Demaury. Michel, my son Lucas. As I told you, Lucas is a bit of a big upcoming name in his field. It’s all so very complicated, isn’t it, Lucas? He always was so remarkably good at science. He scored unusually high on the bac, too. Your son must have taken the bac about the same time as Lucas did, I believe. Oh, wait, no, how unthinking of me – I remember now, your son failed it, didn’t he? Lucas has gotten so many recommendations from his professors, and he is working at publicizing his research results, aren’t you, son? What did you say your son does again, Michel?”

Lucas felt like he was being shown off at a dog show, with the saccharine tone his father’s voice suddenly took on. He didn’t feel good being compared to somebody he didn’t even know. It was humiliating to both Lucas and this Mr. Demaury’s son. Why was his dad trying to get one up on his co-worker? Lucas almost expected to be patted on the head. He looked at Eliott and smiled apologetically.

Mr. Demaury, however, didn’t seem to mind. He looked over at Lucas, then at Lucas’ drinking buddy, and beamed. Oddly, that smile seemed somehow familiar to Lucas.

“Well, Serge, Eliott is an artist, as I’m sure you remember. He got into a very prestigious art school after he did in fact pass his bac, albeit a year late, I’m sure I must have told you.”

Eliott? Lucas looked over to his right, and indeed, there was that same smile. So not a banker, then, thank god. Lucas was intrigued. He almost forgot their fathers standing there. He wanted to ask Eliott about his art, but his father cut in smugly.

“Oh, yes, that is right. That must be a bit of a disappointment, right? An artist. How does your son expect to provide for himself by doodling, let alone for a family? Now Lucas here has got some great job offers lined up already, and he’s not even fully graduated yet. There’s lots of money in scientific research, right, Lucas? You’ll soon overtake your old father here, hahaha!”

Oh, fuck. His dad was just using Lucas to brag to Eliott’s father, and of course, he made it all about money. Lucas should have known his father would always only have one love, and it would never be his family.

“Actually, Serge,” Mr. Demaury piped up, “Eliott is doing quite well for himself. His work sells at some of the more renowned galleries in Paris, and he has so much demand for commissions he has to turn some of them down. But even if he wasn’t so successful and had to take a job in a factory to feed himself, I’d still be proud of him for following his passion.”

Lucas felt his cheeks burn. What kind of peculiar conversation was going on here? The situation embarrassed him highly, and he hardly dared look at Eliott. But the latter subtly touched his leg, and when their eyes met, Eliott was smiling even wider than before. Lucas lost himself for a moment in those cloudy eyes, and when he heard his father say his name, he had to concentrate hard on the question.

“And, Lucas, who is your friend here? Are you one of the junior bankers at the firm, young man?” His father slapped Eliott jovially on the shoulder.

“Uh, no, dad. This is Eliott… Demaury.”

For a split second, Lucas watched his father standing there speechlessly, but he quickly recovered.

“Ah, Eliott. The great artist himself!”, he laughed, somewhat strained. “So, you met Lucas. Impressive fellow, huh?”

Eliott moved delicately closer to Lucas.

“Very impressive. We were getting along rather well, weren’t we, Lucas?” His voice had dipped at least an octave, and the hand on his leg moved into a somewhat more visible position somewhat higher on his thigh. Lucas started blushing furiously.

At that, both their dads went silent.

“We had actually just decided we were going to leave to go somewhere more… private.”

He stood up, grabbed Lucas’ hand, and started walking determinedly to the exit. Lucas had no choice but to follow – not that he minded very much. He heard both his father and Mr. Demaury call after them, but neither he nor Eliott paid them much attention.

Eliott kept dragging Lucas along, all the way out and to the nearest bus station, where he finally sat down on the bench, laughing out loud. Lucas felt that laughter tingle all over his spine.

“Eliott! What was that about?”

Eliott laughed again.

“I didn’t know you where Lucas Lallemant.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Your father. As long as I remember, my dad has been complaining about one co-worker. They were hired in the same month, I believe, always vying for the same promotions and stuff. They’ve just been trying to upstage each other for the past twenty-five years, so when my dad showed up with a colleague and they started measuring dicks, or in this case sons, I just figured it had to be the infamous Serge Lallemant. There’s only one person who brings out that side in my dad. Come one, don’t tell me your dad hasn’t been nagging about mine at dinner!”

“Uh, well, my dad left us when I was pretty young, actually, and even before that we weren’t really the type of family who had nice dinners together, so…”

“Oh! Sorry, Lucas, I didn’t know…”

“That’s okay, don’t worry,” Lucas interrupted. “But if you knew your dad dislikes mine so much, why did you… imply… you know… uh… well, that we were…” Lucas once again couldn’t manage to get the words out and he felt the red creep up his cheeks once more. Fuck, he’d known Eliott for fifteen minutes and it felt like he’d been blushing for fourteen and a half of them.

Another one of those full-bodied laughs escaped Eliott, but something in Lucas’ face made him stop. He actually appeared a bit contrite, and started apologizing.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry! I mean, I just wanted to mess with my dad a bit, but I didn’t think about you! Shit, sorry! I can call your dad to tell him it was just a prank. Hope he won’t bring it up to your girlfriend or something…”

Eliott’s voice trailed off, and Lucas swallowed. Eliott suddenly stood, patted his pockets and started to light a cigarette.

Lucas studied him closely. He seemed a bit jumpy all of a sudden, and Lucas was wondering why that was.

“I haven’t had a girlfriend since I was sixteen and pretending not to be as gay as they come. If there’s one thing that pisses off my dad about his smart money-making scientist son, it’s that he fucks boys.”

Eliott turned back towards Lucas. His demeanour changed again, and his eyes travelled all the way over Lucas’ body.

“In that case…” He came closer, leaning into Lucas.

Lucas gave him the once-over, an eyebrow raised in anticipation.

“We were supposed to go somewhere private, weren’t we?”

Lucas pretended to hedge, think things over.

“That is what you told our fathers, in any case.”

“Mmmmmm,” Eliott agreed, nodding, his mouth centimeters from Lucas’. “And it would be really bad manners to lie to our fathers, wouldn’t it?”

He looked at Lucas with big puppy eyes and a wide grin, and Lucas couldn’t resist.

“I suppose it would. I’d better come with you then, save you from being punished for lying…”

“You’d better,” Eliott managed to mumble, his pupils blown wide as he came even closer.

“You’d better make it worth my time, though…”

Eliott cut off Lucas’ words with a kiss. It would have been brief and sweet, maybe, if Lucas hadn’t immediately opened up for Eliott and made it hot in a matter of seconds. So it was a while before Eliott stood, grabbing Lucas’ hand and dragging him with him.

“I think I will, Lucas, I think I will.”

#reposted from AO3 #elu #elu fic #skam france fanfic #skam france #alternate universe #AU #first meeting #I write things

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lovesunflowerdreamthings · 4 years

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Random musings: Could Kirisaki Shidou be an "Angel of Mercy"?

Fair warning I wrote this in a sleep-deprived state. And I am really grasping at straws here.

This theory is founded on three main arguments:

1.) Appearance (gloves, prisoner uniform resembles a lab coat)

2.) Personality (calm and serene prisoner, good with children, it's almost impossible to see him perturbed.)

3.) Teaser quotes ("Throw down. / The invitation that I can't take back/ Lying / replacing with hope.")

What is an Angel of Mercy?

"An angel of death or angel of mercy is a type of criminal offender (often a type of serial killer) who is usually employed as a caregiver and intentionally harms or kills people under their care. The angel of mercy is often in a position of power and may decide the victim would be better off if they no longer suffered from whatever severe illness is plaguing them. This person then uses their knowledge to kill the victim. In some cases, as time goes on, this behavior escalates to encompass the healthy and the easily treated."

- Wikipedia

1.) Appearance:

I find it interesting that Shido is the only prisoner whose prisoner uniform resembles a white lab coat, which is usually worn by professionals in the medical field. It is also interesting to note that he is wearing gloves, which again, is also part of a physicians to-go attire.

I think we can safely assume that Shido works in the medical field based on that description, but wait there's more to it.

It should be mentioned that gloves serve a symbolic meaning as well. In school, we were taught that gloves can be a symbol for dishonesty. Naturally I wanted to check this and came across this definition:

"Often, gloves merely symbolize the Hand itself; usually, however, they signify high status, clean hands, white gloves as cleanliness and purity. They also conceal; they highlight the gestures of the Hand. Gloves embody power and protection, as well as nobility. However, gloves can also be mysterious, often worn by thieves, witches and night-riders. Honor is represented when the right glove is removed."

"signify high status" Okay, if Shido worked in the medical sector, and he was a highly respected member of the society and also well-paid, then he was probably either 1. ) a doctor, 2. ) a surgeon or 3. ) a scientist/researcher. I think we could discard the last one, cause researchers have only limited contact to patients, certainly no contact with children. "Gloves embody power and protection" I think this goes hand in hand with "high status". Thanks to his high status as a famous (?) doctor Shido likely avoided any suspicion and it prevented him from getting caught.

(Random question: Did Shido turn himself in? Or did he get discovered because the bodies were piling up?)

"often worn by thieves, witches and night-riders." AKA criminals.

"Honor is represented when the right glove is removed." There is a picture where Shido puts on his left glove. Is this a subversion? Meaning Dishonor instead of Honor because he put his left glove on instead of removing his right glove (basically doing the opposite?). Who knows. I searched for "left glove symbolism" and got no results. I'm probably grasping at straws with this one.

"white gloves as cleanliness and purity" THIS. Shidou's gloves are not white, although you would expect that from someone working in the medical field. On the contrary, his gloves are black. I know this might just be an artistic choice but since Milgram is known for being obsessed with putting clues into details, I can't help but find this relevant.

Now, what do black gloves mean? They are often worn at funerals = association with death.

"Black gloves suggest bad intentions while handling a situation, evil methods of carefulness to avoid being caught doing something dishonest, criminal-minded self-protection."

I think this fits perfectly.

Shido used to be a doctor who killed his patients. His mild-mannered personality paired with his carefulness and on top of that his highly respected rank, gave him the opportunity to kill multiple people while avoid getting caught.

He's wearing dark gloves to symbolize his corruptness. His hands are quite literally tainted by his sins.

So, yes he's very likely a serial killer.

There's also a quote from Mai & Sunny's blog which further cements this fact:

“I stole someone’s life… Not to mention, so many times to the point where I’ve already stopped counting” - Shido

Hypothetically, in which part of the hospital can one murder patients without arousing suspicion? Answer: Where terminally ill people seek out treatment. Nobody is going to be surprised that they die since sooner or later, they were meant to die anyway.

Alternatively: he did (illegal?) abortions. But that explanation is boring, so I ain't gonna do that.

2.) What do we know about Shido's personality?

We know that he is a calm and serene prisoner. it's almost impossible to see him perturbed. Being able to stay calm and emotionally detached are traits that are required in the medical field. If you want to work in a hospital you need to be stress-resistant and emotionally closed off. Because people you get friendly with can die, and they will die. The fact that Shido manages to keep a cool head after he woke up as a prisoner in the MILGRAM program, proves that he must be quite desensitized to hopeless situations.

If he knows how to comfort the prisoners who lost or killed a loved one, then I'm guessing he must have worked somewhere where people usually die and he has to comfort those who are left behind. So this was likely routine for him.

What else do we know? We know that Shido is good at working with children, but he is also treating those younger than him as children and comforts them when they are distressed. ( Shido is almost 30. In other words he treats Mikoto (23), Yuno (18) ,Futa (20), (basically adults)) like kids. Either he used to work with kids a little too much or he reeeaally likes to play the role of the caretaker.

(I kind of like the thought that Shido worked with terminally ill children (cancer patients?) and losing them slowly took a toll on him, to the point where he experimented on them to find a new cure or he straight up killed them, thinking it was for their own sake.)

3.) Teaser quotes

I think Shido genuinely wanted to help the patients and thought he was doing the right thing. His lyrics "Lying, replacing with hope" indicate that he was concerned about his victims psychological well-being. Perhaps he was telling them white lies: that they would get healthy if they did this or that, or he told them that dying now would be a better option than wasting slowly and painfully away.

Speculation: Could he have come to enjoy the savior role so much that he developed Munchausen syndrome by proxy and declared patients as hopeless cases, even though he could have saved them if he wanted? The Worst case scenario: he became delusional and manipulated his patients results.

Best case scenario: "The invitation that I can't take back" though, makes it sound like the murder might have been Consensual homicide. Maybe Shido went up to the patients and made them an offer they couldn't refuse? And they agreed?

This could certainly tip the scale in his favor. I think Shido has a good chance at being voted innocent. He is the only prisoner begging for the death penalty. I think people who'd hate him for his crime might vote him innocent, because they wouldn't want to give him what he was asking for.

That is to say if my theory is correct.

#shido kirisaki #throw down #milgram #angel of mercy! shido theory #I'm probably wrong but I have a soft spot for this theory

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lorei-writes · 4 years

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Sasuke x Witch! MC

Content Warnings:

Background: none

Sasuke x Witch!MC: fire

Background:

She was born and raised in XXI century Japan.

Her childhood was rather ordinary: she had both parents, went to kindergarten and then to school, had friends, studied - just in general, led her life like any other person would.

However, when still in primary school, she discovered she possessed a certain kind of ability.

One day, she spilled tea over the book from school library. The librarian being a strict person, she presumed that even if she had brought an exact copy of the book and apologized, she’d be in trouble for the reminder of the year.

Panicked, she tried to at the very least save the cover, wiping at it with tissues.

The paper tore, though, leaving her no hope left.

Unsure of what else she could do, she let head fall onto her desk, smacking the wet book in the process. She wished it had never happened - but what was that, if not just a inane thought?

However, to her surprise, when she stood up, it was perfectly fine, as if she had never spilled anything over it.

As she learnt in the years that followed, she could turn things - although she wasn’t sure what sort of things exactly - back in time.

Having a very vague understanding of how exactly time worked and whether it could cause any consequences to arise, she opted not to use her power too much.

The more questions she asked, the less answers she had - and so, her passion for science sparked.

Sasuke x Witch!MC:

Aiming to deepen her understanding of the world and possibly of her powers as well, she went on to study at the university.

She was in one group with a man she came to like - Sasuke was smart, always seemed to get her culture references, but most importantly, shared her interest in physics and history. More often than not, he was the highlight of her days.

They oftentimes studied together, especially before the exam sessions, when they’d go out to have some food and then lock themselves in the library.

To her delight, they were lab partners. Everything went well... Until it didn’t.

Sasuke had to leave the room for a moment - an urgent call? Oh, she didn’t even remember anymore, holding in her hands the broken piece of equipment.

She looked around, assessing that everybody was busy with their work - luckily, nobody paid her much mind. Instantly, she touched the thing and rewound it back in time.

As if nothing happened, she returned to work, Sasuke soon coming back as well. Little did she know, he saw exactly what she did.

The week being almost over, they walked together towards the train station. “ So, about earlier, in the lab... How did you repair it?” he asked, appearing to be somewhat distracted.

She almost jumped out of her shoes, startled by the question.

In the end, she couldn’t lie to him.

In the following weeks, they conducted a series of experiments to find the limitations of her ability. They weren’t able to discover the mechanism allowing for the phenomenon to occur, though.

As they found out, she couldn’t rewind anything by more no than 23 minutes, it was safe to turn living organisms back in time and, had she used her ability on herself, she did possess the notion of what was the last thing she had thought about before the change.

It appeared that her ability worked by replacing the thing (inanimate or animate) from the present with one from the past.

The months passed and the holidays began. To her surprise, Sasuke asked her to come with him to Kyoto - for research, he said, most possibly having also some other reasons in mind.

The lightning struck the temple, the wormhole sending them back to Sengoku.

She awoke there in the burning building. Somewhat confused, she looked around - an unconscious person was lying on the ground. Blinded by smoke, she pulled them out of the building, not quite sure as to what was happening.

Everything that happened later was unbelievable. One thing bothered her as well - what happened to Sasuke? They were there together, after all. Was he sent back in time? If so, then to what period? Was he somewhere around?

She acted based on the premise that he must have been somewhere around. As such, she accepted her position as princess and used her days to scout for information.

To surprise of the warlords, she was rather inventive, oftentimes going out of her way to help with fixing things, sometimes adding adjustments to the construction of said items or suggesting different design altogether.

It wasn’t that she loathed their company - no, pretty much the opposite. However, when she saw the ceiling panel move, Sasuke’s head peaking from the gap, she couldn’t think of staying in Azuchi anymore.

“You’re...” she started hesitantly. “ Your friendly neighbourhood ninja, exactly,” he answered, descending silently onto the floor. “ I just... I... I couldn’t find a... Where...” she stuttered. “ That story is longer than The Song of Ice and Fire. But that’s not important. You need to get out of here.”

She didn’t think twice of it and followed him, only later learning of his current job. Together, they decided to return to the future.

However, that didn’t go exactly as planned - in eyes of the public, she was a traitor to the Oda clan. Sasuke, on the other hand, abandoned his lord. They did not expect that other clans would go such lengths to try to exploit them.

They had just departed for Kyoto, when a group of armoured men started following them.

Initially, they pretended to be unaware of said fact, attempting to lose said tail. Yet, to no avail.

Time was slowly running out, the chase getting closer and closer. She could feel their breaths on her neck - and finally, they had to meet.

The men drew weapons, threatening to hurt them, had Sasuke not given the Oda princess to them.

They ran for their lives, the prospect of her being a prisoner terrifying them.

A day passed - and nothing had changed for the better. If anything, Sasuke realised they wouldn’t make it no matter what. They stopped for the night, too tired to move. Without a moment of hesitation, he asked her to trust him and do as he said.

His plan was for her to turn herself back, over and over again, until she was just a small child. Then, he’d try to bring her to the closest village, from where he’d try to escape.

“ I can’t do this. I can’t leave you like that,” she pleaded. “ Please.” “ You will die.” “ I may.” “ We will cause disturbance to time.” “ We don’t know that yet.” “ What do you mean?” “ I think your current self will end up starting another timeline. It will be identical, save you know what will happen. If you rewind yourself immediately, you should start another one. Do this until before you fled Azuchi.” “ Sasuke...” she started, but he cut her off: “ I can’t have you die here, but I can’t come up with different solution either.”

She clenched her jaw, silently agreeing to the plan. Before she began, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “ I will find you again. I promise.”

They changed their course, Sasuke hoping to hide in some village. His grip on the reins tightened, as with each second she grew younger - and so, by the end of the day, she was just a child.

To her, it felt as if three months ago were a single eternity away from her - yet, she reached it. The fire.

Days passed. Sasuke descended onto the floor of her room yet again. Tears in her eyes, she hugged him tight, just to explain what had happened.

“ Please, don’t make me leave you again,” she sobbed.

This time, they found another way - one which involved making more friends at that.

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu, @missjudge-me If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)!^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me.

#sasuke sarutobi #ikesen sasuke #ikemen sengoku sasuke #ikemen series #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #my hc #my ff #oh gash i hope this makes sense #im so sorry not so fluffy #i tried

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evan-mcculloch · 4 years

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Breaking Glass || Evan & Barry

When: Oct 1st Where: Star City - Dr. Inglo’s Lab With: Barry Allen @scxrletspeedster

Summary: After discovering prominent physicist Dr. Inglo in Star City has been beating his daughter, Evan decides to take the law into his own hands; Barry arrives to stop him, with deadly results.

TRIGGERS: Child Abuse (Implied), Injury, Death

EVAN: It was all over the papers, the famous Dr. Inglo and his Prismatic refractor. The ability to convert light into pure energy, more so his research into dark matter; if light could craft energy, what could a substance we cannot see or understand do? All very interesting, remarkable, even. Shame a man so gifted with scientific acumen had thought it acceptable to use his daughter as a punching bag. It was only rumours, but rumours spread, and it was amazing what people would do in front of a mirror when they thought they were unseen. Evan wouldn't stand for it. Yes he was a villain, a killer, a monster, but he had his lines, and no one deserved to get away with doing what that man had done. So, the night Dr. Inglo's largest experiment into light and dark matter he'd struck. The man had mirrors set up to reflect beams of charged particles. It should allow mirrors to make energy gates, wormholes or even access new dimensions, similar to his own mirror world experience. They could've been allies, but no. Tonight this man would die. "Say it." he muttered, stepping out of one looking glass, his mirror-gun aimed squarely at the cowering doctor, "Tell me just how ya felt using yer wee one fer target practice. Did ye feel good? Feel strong?" his voice a whisper, "How de ya feel now?"

BARRY: It had taken Barry entirely too long to put two and two together. By the time the stories about Dr. Inglo's refractor technology and dark matter research had hit the presses, the rumors began spreading like wildfire about his abusive tendencies with his daughter. Barry had paid it the normal amount of attention - disgusted that the remarkable man would stoop to something that depraved; if the rumors were to be believed. He had been watching another news report about the man when his mind caught something his eyes couldn't see - the man had given an interview in his home and on display just shy of being off-camera was a large vanity mirror. The twisting in Barry's gut had given him all the indication he needed to check things out. He hadn't heard from Evan in a while - and though that didn't mean the man was up to something, Barry had a bad feeling. Inglo's rumored history was a prime target was Evan to take out some pent up aggression. The speedster bolted across the City, coming to a skidding halt as he whisked into and around the room - quickly moving Inglo behind his desk and out of the sights of Evan's mirror gun for the time being. "That's enough!" His voice was firm and commanding - the tone it came out when he was being serious and not his usual joking self. "I knew my bad feelings were justified..." He sighed, having not wanted them to be.

EVAN: “Flash.” Evan deadpanned. He’d also lost the quiet lightness he’d had in their previous meetings, this wasn’t a semi-dangerous heist. This man deserved to die. And Flash wouldn’t get in his way. “I’m a fair man so I’ll give one wee chance to zip on out the door before I start shooting. This monster’s gonna be put down.” He took a step forward, gaze fixed on the cowering doctor. “Rumours may be all you have but it’s amazing what some people’ll do when tha’ think it’s just em’selves and their reflections.” He spat. “If ye protect him yer fair game.” He took a shot, the concussive light blast shattering a large mirror behind the pair of them, raining down sharp shards. He took the chance to escape into a mirror and step out of another to get a better shot. “This can end with yer in one piece or shattered in bits Flash.” He said, voice raised yet still not quite shouting, he almost never raised his voice. His expression was deadly, completely devoid of anything save burning hatred in his eyes. It was enough to make clear there’d be no negotiating this time. He fired again and missed, but the shot continued to blasted Inglo’s machine, the pressure making in whirl to life.

BARRY: The shattering of the mirror behind them had Barry kicking up a gale as he whirled around Inglo - knocking the falling shards away from them just in case Evan decided to slip a hand up through one of them. He tucked the doctor underneath his desk and regarded him with a firm glare. "Stay put." The words were more of an order than anything. Evan wasn't playing around, which meant that Barry needed to buckle down as well. Standing back up, he quickly scanned the area for the next point the man moved to. A slight hiss and he glanced at his hand where one of the shards had cut a thin line through his glove and into his palm as he swatted it away. A minor inconvenience. "You know I can't do that Evan. I don't want to have to hurt you, but I will. The Justice system will deal with Dr. Inglo if there is anything to deal with -- not you." Barry stated firmly. The blonde checked the remaining reflective surfaces in the room - a couple smaller mirrors on the sides of the room and a giant mirror along the opposite wall. With another spark, Barry quickly turned Inglo's desk around to shield his new hiding spot from view of the mirrors and positioned himself on the other side - standing valiantly as he crackled with electricity; ready to move at a moment's notice.

EVAN: "And how will they do that?" he asked, standing within a mirror, Flash couldn't touch him there. "They'll try'n drag out a wee trail with all tha best lawyers he can buy and nothing'll happen." He'd seen it many times before; he'd taken some jobs like this pro-bono back in his hit-man days. In the end the wheels of justice just couldn't do in months what he could in minutes. And though it all Inglo's child would suffer. No. It wouldn't happen this time. He didn't smirk at the wound to Flash, he didn't want kill him, not really, but he had his own code which wouldn't be denied. Inglo had to die; if Flash got in the way he'd incapacitate him too; it was just business. "Good luck with'that." he vanished and appeared in another mirror, aiming a shot that glanced off the desk leg Inglo hiding behind. Meanwhile his machine was whirling loudly, a beam blasting into the largest mirror of the room to make the surface ripple. Evan shot out of another mirror and grabbed a sharp shard, throwing at Barry like a knife and aiming another few shots of light with his mirror gun.

BARRY: "The system isn't perfect, but it is what we have to use!" Barry stated. He knew the system was flawed, agonizingly slow, and more times than not the people that deserve punishment either got very little or none. Yet, it was what the people had chosen to carry out the law and it was what any true 'by the books hero' would have to accept. For all his speed, however, there were times that Barry just wasn't fast enough. Even he slipped up. The first shot that chipped itself off the desk behind him caught his attention and he moved to engage Evan as he unleashed his assault. Zipping and ducking over the spray of concussive light shots was the easy part, but the mundane shard of glass that had been thrown had been forgotten and as Barry came to a brief halt, the sharp shard burrowed itself deep into the forearm of his right arm. The speedster let out a pained yelp, but bolted straight at Evan. Reaching out to grab him, Barry whirled his body at the same time. In hindsight - Barry knew he should have used his left arm; but it was habit to use his right for most things. As he gripped Evan's clothing firmly and felt the man's body leave the ground in the speed-powered whirl, Barry let out a sharp yell as pain shot through his arm from the shard burrowed in it. The pain brought him to a sudden stop and his grip on Evan's collar slipped. He had been intending on sending even hurtling towards one of the walls in order to put an end to this conflict quickly - but the sudden stop and release of his grip sent the man in a different direction. The blonde could only look in horror - as if time itself seemed to stop around him more so than usual. He had noticed the machine going crazy earlier; noticed the rippling mirror, but he had paid it little attention. It hadn't seemed important enough with Evan being in the room. "Evan!!" Barry cried out, ripping the shard of glass from his forearm so it could begin healing.

EVAN: "The system's a damn toy folks like him know how a play with." He growled back lowly. He'd seen governments get real criminals off scot-free; hell they'd done that with him when he'd been given Scudder's tech. Then he'd been one more tool for them to play with system with; they could just blame their killings on the new Mirror Master who wasn't officially working for the government. He had no doubt someone like Inglo, who was working with this kind of tech, could easily call in that kind of help. It had been years since he'd last fought with Flash properly but it was like riding a bike, misdirection was the goal, he was fast but he still had to think, the blasts did their job of keeping his mind busy while the shard caught him. He was about to use that as a point of entry to get an unmissable shot but Flash, true to his namesake, was too quick and had a hold of him before he could get the shot off. Fuck. He was so close. He let out a wordless cry and tried to get hold of something but in the tempest of Barry spinning he couldn't get a grip, and then he was stumbling back, barely holding his feet steady, unable to stop himself for continuing back, the momentum too great and his arms flailed, trying to grab something, anything to stop him. It wasn't enough. It didn't hurt, but it was cold. So cold. And he yelped, stumbling to the side and falling to his knees as the semi-transparent beam from Inglo's machine hit him. Nothing happened for a few moments and then Evan's body began to ripple like the mirror surface. His feet began to crystallise over, turning to glass that seemed to be made of thousands of tiny shards. He struggled to his feet, he could barely move. "W-what have ye done?" he whispered, now shards of glass up to his waist, "F-flash," his voice trembled, "I-I'm..." he tried to speak but it was difficult, his neck glass, then his chin, "I'm cold." he whispered, his face glassing over.

BARRY: Barry could only look on with horror at the scene playing out before him. The beam had struck Evan and for a moment it looked as if nothing was going to happen, but once the man's body began rippling and crystallizing over with the very same mirror-like glass around them, Barry took a step towards him - unable to will his body to go further. What if he hurt Evan more by trying to touch him? Was it even safe? "Evan, what's happening to you!?" Barry pleaded with him for answers as the glass continued to spread. Another step forward and Evan's words sent chills straight to his bone. I'm Cold. "No, no, no." The word came out in quick, repeated utterances. "Dr. Inglo, what's happening to him!?" He demanded answers from their companion instead - only to find a look of true horror upon the man's lifeless body - a hole burrowed through the desk where one of the stray light bolts had penetrated his flimsy protection. Barry hadn't been able to save him. In all his show and firm statements, Evan had won out in the end and succeeded with what he intended to do all along. Yet, what was happening to him... that didn't seem like a just desserts. No, Barry had done this - whatever this was.

EVAN: Evan couldn't feel anything, he couldn't speak, he couldn't see... he couldn't feel. Everything was quiet. Silent. It should have been frightening but it was, peaceful. But, it was still cold. So cold. His body showed no change, he didn't hear Barry's words. He didn't see Inglo's dead form huddled beneath the desk. Nothing. His body began to fall apart, each shard pulling away from his form and beginning to fall to the floor until there was no form of Evan at all, just a pile of broken glass that continued to break down under the wobbling ray of Inglo's machine. They continued to crumble from shards to dust... to nothing at all. It was only then that the low hum of Inglo's machine quieted and it turned itself off, whirling down into standby mode. The giant mirror ceased it's rippling effect and all was quiet. Just Barry and the dead doctor.

BARRY: Silence. That was what filled the room as the machine quieted down into standby mode and the low thrum of the rippling mirror ceased. Blue eyes were locked onto the pile of shattered glass shards where Evan's body had once stood - wide, tear-laden as the situation sank in. Shakily, a hand went to his cowl-covered ear and he redirected his comm system to dial out to the SCPD. "Flash here. Got a body of Dr. Inglo, the work of Mirror Master. Can't stick around; I need to find him." And just like that the call was ended without giving the officer on the other end time enough to ask any questions. It had been an almost subconscious movement to report the body as his gaze never left the shard pile as it faded into dust and then nothingness. Barry dropped to his knees and sat there as his mind worked through the reality of what had just transpired. Evan was gone. That had been on him - because he slipped up and had gone about engaging him in the wrong way. Another mistake made from a spur-of-the-moment choice of action. That certainly seemed to be his track record. "I'm sorry..." The words came far too late. He had several minutes before SCPD would arrive - and he used them, motionless on the floor as he held his healing forearm in his lap. "I'm so sorry..."

END

#tw: child abuse {Implied}#tw: death #tw: injury #Discord Post #Convos #Convo:Barry #scxrletspeedster #Breaking Glass

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passingdaysthings · 4 years

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10.25.2020- Days like Today

Today is Sunday Oct. 25, 2020

I made this new tumblr to write when I am feeling very lethargic, and maybe, even a bit depressed. I am currently 24 years old, and I live with my parents. I do research related to various topics in psychology, and I am trying to get into Ph.D program. I am not sure why I feel the need to write about myself even though no one will ever see this, but I guess it is fine.

I am feeling a little pressed today because I found out yesterday that my mom believes I am doing nothing with my life. She technically isn’t wrong because I graduated 2 years ago, but I do not have a job. I personally understand why my situation is the way it is, and I understand why my parents do not understand. Asian parents know very little about psychology so I find it a waste of time to try and explain what I am doing with my life, but I guess I will explain it here where I can look back and read this or just let it sit. I graduated with a B.A in Psychology in the December of 2018, I did a short 6 month internship, and now, I am an unpaid research intern at USF and Lingnan University. It is funny because I was very excited about being a research intern for these two labs, but my parents believe otherwise because I am not getting paid. Do I blame my parents? Not really. Do I hate them? Nope. I just wish they would understand my situation more rather than talk poorly about me and highly of my younger sister who is in her undergraduate and pursuing a Computer Science degree. Of course, my younger sister will have ample job opportunities due to how hard the field is, and the ever expanding importance we put on technology where as mental health is not of importance.

I think it’s funny that everyone wants to live a healthy life, but they only focus on the more tangible and easy to understand side of health. For example, we go to the doctors, and we believe we are healthy because the doctors says so after we we examines. That’s wonderful. The physical body is healthy, but is the mind? I am a “very healthy” in the eyes of my doctor because I eat right, I exercise often, and I get my vaccines, but does that make me healthy? I think about this a lot because of days like today. Today I feel nothing, I didn’t want to eat anything, I barely did any work, and I just feel like I need to sleep. Am I depressed? I don’t think I am. It is hard for me to ever really think I am depressed because I feel as if I am overthinking my little life issues. I also want to think I am feeling this way because I am just in a place in my life where things are not goin as I planned, and I have to make adjustment to my plans. There is also COVID-19, but I do not think that hindered my plans. If anything, COVID helped me in a way because many universities have waived the GRE due to the pandemic.

I am not sure if writing this may be feel better, but I guess I feel like my life has some more direction. I know what I am worth, and I shouldn’t judge myself based on the position I am in right now. I know I am working hard, and I am doing my best to pursue my career and life goals. All I can do now is to keep going and continue to work hard regardless of what my parents or anyone else believes.

-P

#tumblr diary #personallife #mental health

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eponymous-rose · 5 years

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(I’d rather this not be reblogged, just in case!)

I’ve had a funny conversation a couple of times this week, once with my cousin and once with my physical therapist, so I thought it might be fun to go over this: when I mentioned I wasn’t teaching this quarter, they both stared at me in shock and said, “And you’re still getting paid?” To be fair, I absolutely would’ve asked the same question before I started. This job is so weird I never would’ve guessed what all falls under it!

So here’s a little glimpse into what goes on in this particular professorship:

So, hey, there are different ranks of professor. I’m an “assistant professor”, which is about as junior as it’s possible to get, but I won the dang lottery and somehow finagled my way into getting the words “tenure-track” tacked on before that. This means that over the next six years, everything I do will be scrutinized (culminating in a "summary” of several thousand pages reporting on every single aspect of my job performance), and at the end of it, after about nine months of progressively higher-ranked people in the university voting and deliberating, I have a chance to be granted tenure, which comes with a promotion to associate professor rank and Extreme Job Security. The criteria here are basically being able to prove that I’m one of the foremost experts in my field in the country and hitting research/service/teaching goals, and I’ll talk a bit about that in a second here. Promotion (often many years later) to full professor requires proof of being one of the foremost experts in the field on the planet.

Also, if you don’t get tenure, you get fired after that six-year period. Some universities are dicks and hire three or four assistant professors for every tenured position they want to fill and just fire the spares after getting six years of work out of them. My university has an extremely high tenure rate (mainly because anyone who seems unlikely to make tenure will either have some sort of intervention on their behalf, be granted an extra year to make up the difference, or will be asked to quietly resign before deliberations start), and my department hasn’t denied anyone tenure in decades.

So! What the hell do I do? Well, universities in the U.S. that are particularly research-heavy are referred to as “R1 universities”, which is the situation I’m in here. This means that the majority (often the vast majority) of my time is not spent teaching: it’s all about doing research, to the point where I will not be teaching more than one class simultaneously. In my field, that research can look like a lot of different things:

There are indeed people who work with beakers and range hoods and snazzy lab coats: these researchers in my field might be doing stuff like growing snowflakes in the lab and using that information to figure out the conditions under which different kinds of snow can form. Also there’s chemistry? I don’t know this side of it too well. Professors’ roles here, apart from the science, include ordering the right equipment (which includes getting quotes from various suppliers) and hiring lab technicians and folks to keep the equipment up and running.

Some folks do intense numerical modeling: if you’re studying the atmosphere, you can’t just try your experiment on one Earth and compare how it’s different on another Earth, since we only have the one, so what we do instead is use the most powerful supercomputers on the planet to create simulations. These can be as detailed as looking at the flow of dust in the millimeters above the ground, or as broad as simulating the whole atmosphere of the entire planet (or other planets!). On top of the science, these professors often have to negotiate for supercomputer time (a precious commodity), purchase massive computational resources (e.g., a server room hosted locally), and sometimes hire dedicated I.T. support just for their research.

I work a lot with large datasets: if we have information about the conditions under which tornadoes happened over the past 15 years, what patterns can we pick up that forecasters might be able to use? What is physically, fundamentally different about tornadoes that happen in different places? This kind of stuff really just needs a decently specced desktop machine and some know-how, and a lot of research in our field involves sitting and thinking. Also in this category is the pure math and physics work in the field, where people bury themselves in impossible-to-solve equations to try to figure the best way to wrench them into things we can solve. This is probably the closest to what most people think of when they hear “research”.

Fieldwork. Think Twister. Coordinating large numbers of people, who may be on the ground, driving, in the air, in the ocean. Also, coordinating instruments that might be stationary or might be buoys or drones or something else. We’re a public university; we don’t have the cash to buy our own airplanes, so profs in this scenario have to rent time on research aircraft owned by organizations like NASA or NOAA, or rent time on boats, or hire folks to develop and build new instruments. Massive amounts of organization goes into this, and all stages from inception to execution are generally overseen and organized by the professor.

When any or all of these approaches come up with groundbreaking results (you’re expected to have that kind of result happen a couple times a year), it’s time to write a paper and get it published in a prestigious academic journal. That process can take between four months and a year, depending on a bunch of different factors, so often a professor is juggling a few different projects in different states of done-ness.

What you’ll notice in all this is that professors generally have to come up with the money to do this stuff. New profs generally get a starting budget to get them off the ground, but most of that winds up wrapped up in personnel and start-up costs (e.g., buying computing resources or space for a lab). For the rest of it? Grants.

Grants in my field right now are a bit of a mess: it takes months to put a proposal together, it’s chaotic and complicated as hell, and there’s only about a 10-15% success rate, so you can do the math on that one. In my field, grants range from “small” ones supporting a few years of the pure-science stuff (typically a few hundred thousand dollars that mainly goes toward paying several people’s salaries over several years, but also covers things like journal publication fees - it costs several thousand dollars to publish one paper in an academic journal) to much larger ones supporting field campaigns or long-term projects (rarely, several tens of millions of dollars if you’re talking projects with multiple aircraft and such). I get paid for nine months of the year, and have to come up with the remaining three months’ salary on my own.

The other thing, though, that grants pay for is graduate student salaries! My department pays students quite well (more than enough to afford the rent on an apartment here, which is saying a lot), and also provides full benefits and a complete tuition waiver. Grad students in my field are essentially in an apprenticeship situation: they pick an advisor and work with that person for typically about seven years. During that time, they have to hit certain milestones (nine months of classes, plus a few courses sprinkled throughout the remaining six years, giving presentations, passing exams, doing a defense, writing a dissertation---essentially a book of their research results), and if you’re thinking this is putting a horrifying amount of power in the advisor’s hands, you’re absolutely correct. The imperfect but step-in-the-right-direction solution my department’s adopted has been to give each student a committee of professors, where one leads the research but the others are always available for new ideas or to resolve problems or speak up on behalf of the student. Students are also strongly encouraged to take a year or two off from their main research project to work with another professor, either here or elsewhere, and explore new research ideas.

Professors are responsible for teaching their students what they need to succeed, and our department has famously exceptional graduate students and graduate student mentorship: profs teach students how to do research (often guiding them through a Master’s project, then letting them take the reins and backing off to an advisory role for the remaining years of the PhD), which includes having them publish their results as the lead authors of their own scientific journal articles. Profs also pay to send students to conferences to showcase their research and introduce them to the people who’ll help them in their future career (one of the reasons I traveled a bunch this quarter was to meet some folks who might be good contacts for students who don’t want to just shoot for a job in the US). Some students will get to go on field campaigns, flying on research aircraft or, I dunno, driving tanks into tornadoes. Some will be more interested in non-academia pursuits and might spend some time shadowing insurance analysts or taking extra entrepreneurial classes in the business school or working hands-on with forecasters during the height of severe weather season. It’s our jobs as professors to know the job market, to know the right people, and to know our students well enough to help them get where they’re going. This department takes this Very Seriously, to the point where it eclipses research as our Top Priority, and the general understanding is that getting a grad student position here sets you up for life.

So! Part of my job this time of year is recruiting graduate students based on my budget. For some folks, that means actively advertising wherever possible and getting super involved in the visiting student weekends (we fly prospective grad students out here to visit before they make their decision, and there’s always a fair number of students who haven’t settled on an advisor yet). Some folks are absurdly lucky and study fields that are considered particularly cool and interesting, and the top students actively seek them out and will cold-call or send e-mails or introduce themselves at conferences (look, turns out it’s hilariously easy to sell someone on “come study tornadoes!” and even a newbie like me has to choose between several particularly strong candidates). Either way, the graduate student hiring process involves a lot of internal debate---we’re not a huge department, so we typically can only send offers to a little under 10% of the folks who apply each year---that mainly centers around making sure each student has a supportive research “home” waiting for them here, based on funding and how much time each faculty member might have. Professors need to coordinate grant budgets (or startup funds, or stopgap funds in the increasingly common situation where no grant money could be secured for a given year) to make sure students have any equipment they might need (cool stuff like supercomputer time, servers, equipment to take to the field, accessibility aids, but also mundane stuff like office space and desks). We also have to coordinate with the university to make sure international students can get here and stay here under the correct visa status.

Right now, I only have one graduate student, and he’s currently undergoing the barrage of first-year coursework, but we meet weekly and he’s started playing around with some data analysis and reading some of the big papers in the field (he’s coming in from mechanical engineering, so the math is familiar but the vocabulary is funky). I’ve developed short- and long-term learning goals for him, culminating in putting together a proposal for his master’s research in June, then converting his early results to a scientific journal article to help him hit the ground running, because he’s brilliant and he’d be able to pull it off without breaking a sweat.

I’m also on the committees of two second-year Master’s students, so my responsibilities there include reviewing their proposals and, in one case, helping her put together an application for a major fellowship that would put $100,000 toward her education, which means she wouldn’t be beholden to any given research grant and could study any topic she liked. I’m also co-advising a postdoctoral researcher---his primary advisor is a specialist on snow, which is his area of interest, but I’m a specialist on some of the methods he uses to study snow, so I’m consulting with him on that side of things. I’m also working with a couple of particularly motivated final-year PhD students who want to run a multi-day Python and machine learning workshop for the department. Heck yeah.

Apart from research and advising, another facet of being a professor is the nebulous category often just referred to as “service”. Volunteer work, essentially. Right now, I’m reviewing scientific journal articles, typically 2-4 at a time (down to one right now, although I anticipate a flood right before the holidays). This is all done as volunteer work, but it’s honestly the easiest way for me to keep up with the latest literature, because yeah, you can’t just sit in a room and think if you don’t know what everyone else is thinking about. And when even a small field has a dozen or so major academic journals putting out a couple dozen articles each a month that you have to stay on top of... reviewing can be a great way to get the highlights. Sometimes I also get to review other people’s grant proposals, which is really helpful! Still, I wish journals would pay us for this work---someone did a poll on Twitter and found that folks in our field spend on average about 6 hours per review. That adds up!

I also tend to help out with conferences, either doing logistical stuff like deciding what the major topics are, and who gets to speak when (and who probably shouldn’t be given a microphone...) or coordinating the judging of awards for student presentations. That sometimes involves weird event planning stuff like trying to find a venue and speakers and transportation for a formal dinner, or hiring caterers and dealing with competing hotel quotes for room blocks, or cold-calling reasonably famous people and asking them to volunteer their time (or offering them an honorarium) to Skype in to a room full of people.

I’m also on a few national committees that are working to define the priorities of some of the big professional organizations: mainly I work in my particular subdiscipline, but also with diversity/equity/inclusion and early-career support. Some of that is as simple as running social media accounts or helping to design surveys. I’ve recently been assigned to help audit a major organization’s commitment to diversity, which could be pretty interesting. It all sounds like a lot, and a lot of it’s coming to a head lately just because of conference timing, but it usually slows down to one or two hours a week of work in the off-season. I like this kind of stuff because it’s a relatively low-effort way to meet scientists all over the world that I wouldn’t have encountered otherwise.

We’re also hiring a new faculty member right now, which is... hilariously complex. Every aspect is basically done by committee and the entire department has to agree on who to interview and, eventually, who to hire, because hiring someone for this position is potentially choosing your coworker for the next 30+ years. Interviews are two-day endurance training for the poor candidates, who get face-to-face meetings with every member of the faculty, on top of more specialized interviews. We’ve had about 120 competitive applications thus far. It’s... a lot.

And just because I’m not teaching actively right now doesn’t mean teaching isn’t eating a lot of time: there’s some fun logistical set-up to do! For instance, the class I’m co-teaching starting in January features a lab where we take all the students over to the engineering buildings to set up some instruments in a wind tunnel. Gotta make sure we’ve timed it right so they can actually give us the wind tunnel! We’re also coordinating the timing and the schedule so that both instructors are actually around for the parts of the class they’re teaching. For three of the five weeks I’ll be teaching, I have the previous instructor’s materials to work with, but the other two weeks are all new material (and a lot of ad-lib based on how students do with the first chunk of the class). I also haven’t done anything related to this class since I took a comparable class over a decade ago, so, uh. Better study up.

In the spring, I’ll be teaching an entirely new class that’s never been offered by the department before. That involves building a syllabus, figuring out what each lecture will be about, coming up with contingencies in case some lectures get cancelled, writing exams and assignments and lectures and (since it’s a programming class) making sure everyone has access to the necessary hardware and software and data for the big final project. And, because I’m me, I’ll also be coordinating the whole thing with a special office in the university that does long-term testing of teaching effectiveness---they’ll send someone over to spend a few minutes chatting with the students midway through the quarter, then work with me on recommendations and improvement. I figure it’s a new class being offered for the first time, so we might as well get in on the ground floor of longitudinal pedagogical study. Also, I don’t actually know this programming language yet. Little more studying to do, there.

So... yeah. This job is absurd. It’s a million different jobs, the vast majority of which I’ve had no training for. And I adore it. Nobody cares where I am or what I’m doing at any given time, as long as I get results and as long as my students are succeeding. As someone who loves nothing more than bland, repetitive tasks repeated over and over again, it’s not exactly in my wheelhouse... but I love how hard it makes me think, and I adore being pushed this far out of my comfort zone and knowing I actually have the resources and the know-how to succeed. Every single day is something completely new and exciting and bizarre. Hell, every hour. It’s pretty fantastic, and utterly terrifying.

#i'd rather you didn't rebagel just because there's some me-specific stuff in here!#eponymous job tag #eponymous academia tag #long text post

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

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Practice Prompt 2

A/N: The dialog with @idaliamoretti and @lady-indiana comes from an rp we did earlier today :)

The knock on my bedroom door made me jump. As quickly as I could, I tugged the white shirt I was holding over my head, still pulling down the hem with one hand as I made my way to the door, opening it with my other.

My father was standing in the other side of the doorway, his car keys in hand. “Proctor wants you to come in and help her out with something today.”

I frowned. I had done a research assistantship with Professor Proctor during the spring semester, after taking her course on genetics in the fall. I loved the work I had done under her, though it was mostly just looking at certain chromosomes under a microscope before and after she had altered the sequence of nucleotides, and comparing how the images varied. Either way, it had gotten my name out there as her assistant on the papers she published, which was certainly something. I definitely couldn’t be credited with most of the work or writing though.

“Why?”

My father shrugged, already walking away from the door. I tied the fabric belt of my flowy black pants in a bow, and began to follow him down the hallway. It wasn’t like Professor Proctor to spring work on me unannounced like this, especially when school wasn’t even in session anymore.

My father made his way immediately to the door when he reached the bottom of the staircase, picking up his work bag, which was already leaning against the shoe rack. He tapped his watch twice, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

“I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” I protested.

“You should’ve gotten up earlier.” My father only shrugged as I grabbed my purse from the hook next to the shoe rack.

“I woke up at the same time I always wake up.” Not a lie. My early morning routine had been the only thing that remained constant these past few weeks. Between capital officials calling or visiting in person, and family members I barely remembered trying to get in touch with me, altogether consuming my every waking moment, my life felt like it had been the unfortunate victim of a hit-and-run accident.

“Not even at the palace yet, and already developing an attitude,” my father noted, holding the door open for me. “That’s not a good sign.”

I sighed, opening the passenger side door of his car the moment two chirps confirmed it was unlocked. “Sorry, I’m just kind of confused and concerned as to why Proctor wants me to come in today.”

As he got in the car himself, he handed me his work bag and nodded, the only sign that he had even heard what I said. He was a man of few words, my father. Always blunt and to the point, he got what he needed to get done done, and didn’t waste people's time with niceties and polite chatter. That part of socializing he left to my mother. It was also probably a big part of why the officials from the palace preferred to have her around when they needed me to sign something, rather than my father.

My absolute favorite moment from the past few weeks had been the time that some official or another had called from the capital, and my father, fed up after a long day at work, had picked up the phone and just yelled, “What? What do you want?” He had then paused, as whoever was on the other line said something, and then calmly, he had said, “Oh, Evalin, it’s for you.” My mother had been absolutely mortified, and had taken the phone out of my hands to apologize profusely to the capital official on behalf of my father. I had found it hilarious, however, and had to leave the room at one point, unable to contain my laughter any longer.

“She probably just needs your help.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious, I thought. I bit my tongue, though. Fighting with my father wasn’t worth it. It never was, but especially not now that this would be our last full day together for a while.

So we continued the rest of our ride in silence. The streets were just beginning to fill with other vehicles as we hit the main roads. I kept my eyes on the cars passing by as I thought about the upcoming Selection. Today really was my last full day in Knoxville. I didn’t know whether to be sad about the fact that I kind of hoped I wouldn’t be back for a while. I would miss my family, sure, but I couldn’t deny that no matter which way the Selection went, it was going to be a life changing experience. I was going to learn and grow from it, and for once in my life, not in the traditional classroom-learning sense.

This could possibly be the last time I was setting foot on this campus, I realized, as my father parked his car. This might be the last time he drove me here, the last time we hugged in the lobby of the biology building before heading down separate hallways, the last time I had to smell the brine of the oyster labs as I passed by them on the way to Professor Proctor’s laboratory. Had I taken all these things for granted?

I swallowed once before walking into the lab, refusing to let myself dwell on all the what-ifs. I was done with what-ifs. The here and now, that was real, and that involved finding out what Proctor needed me to do for her.

My professor was standing in the corner of her laboratory, flipping through the pages of what appeared to be an old book with maroon leather covers. The book itself looked like it was shorter than most normal-sized books, but maybe that was just the angle I was looking at it at. Or maybe most of my time had been consumed by textbooks and official documents the past few months.

“Good morning, Professor,” I said by way of greeting, holding on to the door as it closed behind me to make sure it didn’t slam. “How are you?”

Professor Proctor looked up from her book, shutting it with one hand as she smiled at me. “Good morning, Miss Berg,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she pushed some gray hairs behind her ears and readjusted her glasses. She might be old, but she was no less wise than she had been when she had published the results of her first independent study when she was just twenty-two. I had been ecstatic when I learned that she would be teaching my genetics lecture last fall. I mean, this was a woman whose tenacity and intelligence had always inspired me. I had literally done projects about her in elementary and middle school.

“Or, should I say, Lady Evalin?” One corner of her lip tugged upwards.

I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks as I hung my purse on the coat rack by the door. “That really isn’t necessary, Professor.” Then, turning back to face her, I added, “My father said you wanted me to come in today?”

“Yes.” She began to move towards one of the microscopes, placed on a low lying lab table towards the front of the room. She pulled out two chairs, facing them towards each other, and motioned for me to take the one opposite of her. As I complied, she explained, “I wanted to talk to you before you left.”

That was right - I hadn’t been able to see her since the announcement was made on the Report. My research period with her was over once the spring semester ended, and with all the craziness of the Selection going on, I hadn’t made time to come to campus and seek her out myself.

“Thank you, Professor, for making time for us to talk. I’m sure your schedule must be busy after the release of your latest findings.”

She smiled at my reply. “It may be, but science does not stop and wait for the media circus. There are always new discoveries to be made. The world keeps turning.”

I felt my blush deepen at her clear jab at the Selection. Oh, God, she must have been mad. Or maybe my father had paid her to give me the lecture that he couldn’t bear to give me himself.

“With that in mind,” she continued, “can I ask why on earth you decided to enter yourself in the Selection?”

Oh yes, here it was.

I decided to start with a joke, laughing nervously as I asked, “Did my father put you up to this?”

“Oh, good! He’s already given you this lecture! Now, I don’t have to!”

I sucked on a tooth. That hadn’t gone according to plan, but I decided not to correct her. Professor Proctor gave amazing lectures, but they were always long-winded and strongly worded, and I wasn’t sure I could handle one at the moment. I still hadn’t even had any coffee yet. “I understand that by participating in the Selection, I am putting my education on hold, but this could be a great opportunity. Think about it - if given a position of power and influence, I could promote the inclusion of more women in science!” It definitely wasn’t my primary reason for going, but it was better than admitting my childhood crush on Prince Arin to my professor.

She waved a hand through the air. “The Princess Safiya is already a woman in science herself. You’re more useful here, studying and publishing research to enhance our knowledge of the human genome. By throwing yourself at the shoes of some spoiled boy, you might as well be throwing all of your intelligence and hard work in the sciences into a trashcan, lighting that trashcan on fire, and then kicking it down a flight of stairs.”

I nodded ever so slightly, brows furrowing as I attempted to think of something I could even say in response to that.

The professor saved me from having to respond, though. She clucked her tongue. “None you worry, though! Your time at the palace won’t be a complete waste!”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I replied flatly. I didn’t know why I was so irritable lately. First the almost-fight with my father, and now this. Was the stress of the competition getting to me already?

“How were you at history, Miss Berg?”

I pursed my lips, thinking back to high school, picturing the marks I had gotten on my exams. “It was my best subject out of the humanities and social sciences. I think a lot of my success had to do with my memorization skills.”

“Good.” Professor Proctor nodded, leaning back in her chair. “So you are aware, then, that Illea did not always exist as a country. Not as it does now, at least.”

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. Where was she going with this?

“So, then, the Illean caste system, as it exists currently, could not have always existed, right?”

Alarm bells were ringing in my mind. “Yes, but -”

She cut me off. “Tell me, Miss Berg, have you ever dreamed about pursuing another career? Something besides biology?”

Wasn’t that what I was doing by participating in the Selection? Wasn’t that we she was just about to lecture me about before?

I studied the woman across from me. How could she sit there, so relaxed, not a tense muscle in her body, and talk about such things? She was like a spider with a fly already trapped in its web - all she had to do was watch. She had the power to strike at any moment.

“I used to dream of being a ballerina,” I admitted, “but I was four years old, and they were just that - dreams!”

“But what if there was a world where your dream could become a reality?”

“Well, that would require for me to have advanced physical coordination skills, which I don’t,” I stated, staring at her point-blank, my face relaxed. “That fact has nothing to do with the history of Illea.”

A casteless society. Was my professor really hinting at a casteless society? It was downright treasonous of her to be doing so, and bold of her to speak so freely of these things in front of somebody who would be inside the palace tomorrow.

“That’s neither here nor there,” Professor Proctor reprimanded, waving a hand through the air again. “The point I’m getting to, though, is that I have a proposition for you.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, letting out a scoffing laugh. “Okay, what is it?”

“I need you to write me letters while you’re at the palace.”

I frowned. “That’s it?” I had already been planning on writing my family and June, and maybe even Lukas, though I doubted he’d want to hear about the drama that was bound to ensue. I supposed I could add Professor Proctor to the list as well, though I found it highly unlikely that she would want to hear about the drama either.

“Yes, but not just any letters.” Here it was. Here came the catch. “I need you to get information about the plans the government have against the rebels and the abolitionists.”

“No.” The word came out of my mouth before I could even think, before I could even fully consider her proposal to me. “I won’t do it.”

She sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. I’d hate to have to do this Miss Berg, but if you don’t send me those letters, I will make sure you never work in the field of biology again.” Her eyes narrowed as mine went wide. “If you want a research assistantship after your time gallivanting at the palace is over? You won’t get one from me, or any of my colleagues. You want to get into graduate school when this is all finished? Good luck doing it when no accredited institution worth a grain of salt will accept you.”

I shook my head, standing up and pushing my chair back under the lab table. “Treason, and blackmail,” I hissed, my voice wavering slightly, in spite of my desire for it not to. “I don’t care if you never let me work with you again. I don’t want to.”

“Think carefully on my offer, Miss Berg,” she instructed, not even moving as I made my way across the room to grab my purse. “I won’t hold this little outburst against you.”

I stopped in front of the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob as I looked over my shoulder at her, the woman I had spent most of my life aspiring to be, one last time. “You disgust me.” I shook my head again. “I’ve lost all respect for you.”

I opened the door, flinging it wide as I began to walk down the hallway.

She called after me. “What do you think your father has in your attic, Evalin?”

The door slammed, cutting off anything else she might say. I hurried past the oyster labs and up the stairs, blinking away tears as I made my way into the main hallway. Was I crying? God, I needed to get myself together.

I ducked into the ladies room on my left, right before I entered the main atrium, and threw my stuff down on the sink counter. After splashing some cold water on my face, I considered my possible next steps. My mother was at work, so I couldn’t ask her to come get me, and my father was up in his lab, which meant his phone was in his locker, and he wouldn’t be able to check it until the end of his workday. That left one person with a car that I could call.

June picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Evalin!”

“Hey, June.” I reflexively put my hand up to my free ear, covering it, even though the bathroom was silent. “What are you up to right now?”

“Running errands,” she replied. Indeed, if I listened closely, it did sound like she was in her car, not on a crowded street, but still definitely driving.

“Could you possibly come get me along the way?”

She cut me off before I could even tell her where I was. “I wish I could, Ev, but I’m on a bit of a time crunch!”

I heard someone mumble in the background - a distinctly male voice, and familiar at that. Was that Lukas? I blanched, putting two and two together. Oh my God, were they hooking up in June’s car? Was everyone I knew breaking a law today?

“No worries,” I assured her, my voice breathless and a little shaky. “I’ll find another way home.”

“Okay.” She paused. “Is everything okay?”

No.

“Yes!” I did my best to sound bright and chipper, but I didn’t think for one second that June was fooled. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, I hung up. It looked like I was stuck here, and at the very least, I was not going to spend the rest of my day in the bathroom. So I picked up my purse, and made my way to the dining hall, purchased a cup of coffee, and carried it back to the biology building, where I spent a few hours playing solitaire. Anything to talk my mind off what Professor Proctor had told me.

It occurred to me that I didn’t have to give her the time to blackmail me. I could report her for conspiring with the rebels right now, and have her arrested. The only issue was, I had no proof. It was her word against mine, and I wasn’t naive enough to think that anyone would believe me over a world renowned researcher and scientist.

My phone was on it’s last two percent when my father finally emerged from the hallway. He frowned as his eyes darted from me to the three empty coffee cups that were now stacked behind me. Hey, walking to the dining hall was exercise, right?

“Done so soon?” His tone was skeptical, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Yeah, she got a call from a publisher of one science magazine or another, asking her if they could interview her about her latest study.” I shrugged nonchalantly. It was a good thing that I had had the better part of a day to come up with a believable lie. “How was your day?”

“Less hectic than I thought it would be.”

I stood up then, following him out the door and through the parking lot, to his car. He was silent up until we were in his car, when he asked, “Was it good to see her before you leave?”

“Yeah,” I lied, leaving it at that. Luckily, my father didn’t press me for more details. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel at every stoplight, humming along to an old song playing on the radio. No matter how much any of us protested, he refused to change the station in his car to anything other than “Classic Hits of the early 2000s.” He was insistent that it was the only music that would ever play in his car. If we wanted our own music, we were to bring something else to listen to. Too bad my phone was dead.

My father pulled into our driveway at a snail’s pace, each motion he made deliberate yet relaxed. He turned the keys, shutting the car off, still humming to that stupid song that played at least twice every time I rode with him to work - once in the morning, once in the evening.

I was over it. I wanted nothing more than to eat dinner, shower, and curl up in my bed. I was all but packed, seeing as we didn’t need to bring many personal items with us, since our wardrobe and essentials would be provided for us at the palace. All I needed to do was get through the rest of today, and then tomorrow, I would be on a plane, and with any luck, I would never have to see Professor Proctor ever again.

My father practically raced to the door. I trailed behind him, narrowing my eyes at him as he watched me slowly trudge up the porch steps, his gaze expectant. He waited until I was right behind him before he slowly began to open the door, which creaked slowly on its hinges. From what I could see, the inside of our house was dark, which was odd, considering my mother’s car was definitely in the driveway.

Once his hand was inside, my father flung the door open the rest of the way, and I stepped inside, blinking twice as the lights flashed on around me, and a wall of people jumped into my line of sight. The word, “Surprise!” was yelled in various pitches and intonations, jarring me almost as much as the sudden change in brightness did. I dropped my purse as I took in the sight in front of me. My entire family - my father’s parents included - along with June and Lukas stood in the living room, partially obscured by the staircase, wearing party hats and holding noise makers. Above the couch was a banner that read, “We’ll Miss You, Evalin!” in big red block letters.

I forced myself to smile, and then I forced myself to hug everyone, and act like this was the best present I had ever received. “I knew you’d love it,” Lydia squealed. “A going away surprise party just seemed perfect!” When our brothers were out of an earshot, she whispered, “I released the ants, too!”

I was quite sure an ant infestation was the last thing I needed at this point in time, but I assured her that it was the highlight of my day, which was the truth, though the bar was quite low. After her, it was my grandparents, who were so pleased with how much my Swendish had improved since I had last seen them around Christmas time. I informed them that I had been furthering my study of the language in order to help me stand out during the Selection, and they beamed.

The rest of the night was much the same. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that our company started trickling out. First it was June, lazily waving goodnight as she made her way to her own home nextdoor. Then it was my brothers and Lydia, whose departures were punctured with screaming and laughter as all four made it to their rooms, finally. Then my father decided it was high time to drive his parents back to the hotel they were staying in, though they promised they would see me again at the official send off ceremony the next day. My mother drifted off upstairs, saying she needed to deal with whatever mess had been made. I didn’t want to imagine what her face would look like when she found out her daughters had collected and released ants into her sons’ room.

That left just me and Lukas, seated on the couch downstairs, me with a glass of water, and him with an untouched slice of cake.

Now was as good a time as any, I decided. Today could not possibly get any worse.

“I heard you in the car with June, today.”

Color rushed to his cheeks as he placed his plate on the coffee table. “I went with her to pick up your grandparents from the hotel.” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he added, “She asked me to come with her since I know a little Swendish.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes right back at me. “You sounded kind of upset on the phone. What happened?”

I just shook my head. “You would not believe the conversation I had with Professor Proctor today.”

“Oh, good.” His eyes lit up, his lips starting to tug upwards in a smile, and his speech animated. “She filled you in on everything, then? It’s great that you’re continuing to work with her.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I never said that.”

His face went pale at that, and he leaned forward, towards me. “What do you mean?”

“I told her no, Lukas.” It was an effort not to ball my hands into fists in my lap. “You’re working with her?”

He shook his head, and then ran his hand through his hair. “Evalin, why -”

It was all the answer I needed.

“Get out of my house.” I stood, pointing towards the front door. “Now.”

Reluctantly, he got to his feet. “Evalin, listen, you’re being irrational. Can’t you see -”

“Don’t you dare try to call me irrational when you’re the ones committing treason,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the door. “Get out of my house, and don’t you ever come back.”

My teeth were clenched as I opened the door, practically shoving him into the night air. As he stumbled out onto the porch, my father rounded the corner of our driveway in his car, his headlights like a beacon in the night.

“Evalin,” Lukas tried again.

I’d had enough. I pushed him towards the porch steps as hard as I could. He stumbled back a foot as I reiterated, “I said leave!”

Finally, he took the hint, and began walking across the lawn, turning right when he hit the street. To my left, my father stepped out of his car, locking it as he came to stand beside me on the porch. “I never liked him,” was all he said as he turned around, opening the front door and holding it for me.

It was a sleepless night after that. Between the fight with Proctor, and then the fight with Lukas, I had a lot to think about. My brain wouldn’t shut off, no matter how much I tried to drown out the sound of my thoughts with the sounds of the crickets outside. By the time light started filtering through the window again, I had managed to sleep for maybe half an hour, if that.

There was not enough coffee in the world to get me through this day. The morning was a blur of my mother fixing my hair and applying makeup to my face, Lydia zipping up the dress the capital officials had instructed me to wear, and my father, handing me cup after cup of coffee until I couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes without having to use the restroom. After that, we were out the door, and off to the town square, where the mayor was waiting on a stage in front of a crowd of people.

I had to give the crowd credit - some of the signs were kind of creative. Even June was there, holding one that read, “Evalin? More like Eva-WIN!” I cracked a smile at that, but it faded as I thought back to the night before. I wasn’t going to get the chance to tell her about Lukas. Shit.

Speak of the devil. There he was, dressed in a button up shirt and dress slacks, standing at the side of none other than Professor Proctor herself. A bold move, on their part. I refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing that I had seen them. Instead, I adopted the broadest smile I could manage, and plastered it on my face as the mayor droned on about my merits as a candidate for the princes heart, and what a great service I was doing for my province.

Once he had wrapped up, it was time to say goodbye to my family. My brothers were first, practically crushing me with the combined force of their hugs, and assuring me that they would get payback for the ants. I only laughed, challenging that I would love to see how they planned to do that from the other side of the country.

Then it was my grandparents, who gave me quick well-wishes in Swendish, before stepping aside to let Lydia through. Lydia gave me a quick hug, both her and my mother offering words of encouragement.

The last one left was my father. Steeling myself for what I knew I had to do, I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of coffee and hazelnut for one last time. Then, discreetly, I raised my head a bit, and whispered into his ear, “Proctor knows what’s in the attic, and I think I made her very angry yesterday.”

My father, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch at the news. His face remained stoic, though he did offer me a nearly imperceptible nod, the only sign that he had heard what I said.

With that done, I was ushered into a limo, where I sat for the next two hours, until it arrived at the airport. I had wanted to sleep in the limo, but the caffeine in my system had left me too jittery and alert to do so. Maybe that was for the better, though. I didn’t want to accidentally fall asleep on the plane, in front of the other Selected girls.

One of them was already on the plane when I boarded. I ran through my memory, trying desperately to place her face to one of the names I had memorized. No luck. I was drawing a blank.

I offered her a smile as I made my way down the aisle. “Hi, I’m Evalin!”

She matched my smile with one of her own. “Hi Evalin! I’m Indie!”

Indie. Indiana? The film director from Clermont? I struggled to remember what else Lydia had told me about her, but it wasn’t coming through. God, I was so tired.

I took a seat across the aisle from her, keeping my smile in place. “It’s nice to meet you! You’re from Clermont, right?”

“Yes, I am! And you’re from -” she paused, smiling sheepishly, “-remind me again?”

“Carolina.” I smoothed out my skirt. At least I wasn’t alone in the not-remembering-information boat at the moment. “You’re a movie director, right?”

Her smile was nothing but kind as she replied. “I am. What is your profession?”

I inhaled slightly before answering. “I’m still in college, but I’m studying biology.”

For now.

“Oh wow, that’s really cool. I could never do science.”

“Thanks,” I replied with a slightly nervous laugh. “It’s second nature for me, really. I grew up around it. I think it’s really cool, what you do, though! I’ve never had that kind of artistic vision!”

“Aw, thank you. It’s the only thing I could ever do, and I’m glad. I truly love it. The profession saved me, in a way.”

“That’s amazing!” I couldn’t help but smile at that. Indie and I weren’t so different when it came down to it. What she felt for directing was exactly what I had felt, still felt, for biology. “That kind of passion is very admirable!”

Once again, she matched my smile. “We are still waiting on two more, right? The plane is supposed to leave soon.”

“I think so.” I frowned, looking over my shoulder, out the window. Missing the plane would set a sour tone for the rest of the Selection, that was for sure. As I craned my neck, trying to get a better view, I caught side of a girl with dark hair was walking through the parking lot. “Looks like one is coming now!”

Sure enough, as soon as the words popped out of my mouth, one girl boarded the plane, followed by a second girl, who already had headphones in. The first girl popped into the plane like a ball of pure sunshine, looking over her shoulder at the plane staircase. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, breathlessly, “My parents kept saying goodbye!” She turned back to us then, her eyes flickering over each of our faces in turn. “Idalia Moretti,” she said by way of introduction, plopping down in an empty seat to my right.

The fourth girl took up a seat towards the front of the plane, not so much as glancing back at us. Instead, she turned to face the window, keeping her headphones in.

“What about you guys?” Idalia’s voice drew my attention back towards my right side.

I offered her the same smile I had given Indie earlier. “Evalin Berg. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Oh,” Indie began, grinning like mad at Idalia. I had to admit, the girl’s energy was infectious, and she was practically bursting at the seams with it. “Hi, I’m Indie! Are you guys excited?”

With everyone on board, the plane began to take off. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be to say my goodbyes to Carolina, though I did still have my worries. Would Proctor report my father, out of spite for me? Would Lukas? What was even in my attic that was so illicit? It’s not like my father could just sneak up there willy-nilly. The attic door was a drop-down from the ceiling on the second floor, kind of like a reverse trap door, with a ladder that unfolded out once the door was open. The hinges were so rusted and creaky that half the neighborhood would know that someone was going into our attic before they ever set foot in it.

I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. “Very,” I answered. “A little nervous, too, though. What about you?”

“It should be an interesting day,” Idalia offered. “Tomorrow is when I’ll be nervous. Or, I guess whenever we meet the prince.”

“I’m definitely a little of both excited and nervous,” Indie agreed. “But you’re right. Tomorrow is when things get really real.”

They were right. I needed to focus. “True. Today is just makeovers and getting settled in, right?” I winced at my own unawareness of what I had gotten myself into. I cursed the stupid fights keeping me awake all damn night, and for making me forget what I really needed to do. “Sorry, this whole thing has been a bit of a whirlwind. It’s kind of hard to keep track of all the details.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Indie answered. “I’m sure there will be people telling us what to do, and where to go. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“It’s kind of weird, being thrown into the spotlight like this! Do any of you know any of the other girls? I’ve only gotten tidbits of information that my sister has dug up.” A half lie. Lydia had dug up a good deal of information, I just couldn’t recall any of it.

“I know one of the girls,” Indie admitted. “Emily. She’s acted in a few of my movies. I know some of the other actors just from industry talk, and stuff.”

“Yeah!” Idalia took over the conversation. “I just know the details because I have a friend obsessed with this stuff. She sent me a PowerPoint of, ‘The Most Important Things to Know,’ on everything and everyone.”

Indie’s eyes went wide and her smile grew. “A PowerPoint? That’s iconic!”

“Oh wow!” I laughed, but it came out a good deal more nervous than I had intended it to. “Dare I ask what it said about us?”

“Oh, Evalin,” Indie reprimanded with a shake of her head, “never read the reviews.”

I blushed, but Idalia only smiled as she forged onwards. “She is iconic like that! She liked your last movie, by the way. It was in her PowerPoint.”

“Oh, really? That’s sweet!”

So much for not reading the reviews.

A joke. I should crack a joke. “Ah, sorry! I’m used to my work being peer reviewed.”

I was the only one who laughed at my joke. I should not have cracked a joke.

As if it took her a second to catch on, Idalia let out a small chuckle. “I’m pretty sure your slide just said, ‘bio smart but I have no idea what any of her work says.’”

“Ah,” I replied, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks once again. I should have seen that one coming from a mile away. “I haven’t really done anything of note. I held a research position under my genetics professor last semester, but it was mostly just me using a microscope.” It felt weird to talk about it now, after everything that had happened yesterday. I could only imagine these girls’ reactions if I had told them the full story.

“That sounds way more intelligent than anything I’ve done, so,” Indie trailed off for a second. “Kudos to you.”

I let out another nervous laugh, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. Time to change the subject. “What movies have you directed?”

Indie seemed to consider it for a moment, as if she had to pick between a large sum of movies when saying her next sentence. “A few,” she settled on, finally. “Some of them you might know are Lady Bird and Little Women. I’ve also done The Greatest Showman, but I also direct episodes of TV sometimes.”

“Oh, I loved Little Women,” I gushed immediately. “That and Pride and Prejudice are the two movies my sister insists we watch whenever we have a family movie night!”

She grinned at that. “Pride and Prejudice is amazing. I’m glad my movie sings along beside it at your family movie nights.”

“Funny,” Idalia interjected, smirking. “My house is usually filled with suggestions of Megamind on family night.”

“Hey, I mean, Megamind,” Indie trailed off again, clearly searching for the words in her head. “Important stuff!”

Interesting. That movie definitely sounded like something Randall would request. That, combined with her big personality, was making me wonder if Idalia and I had more in common than I had initially assumed. “Do you have a lot of siblings, too?”

“No, actually,” Indie answered first, “I don’t have any siblings. You?”

Idalia had an amused smile on her face as she admitted, “I only have a younger brother, but Megamind is usually not his idea.”

“Like I said, Megamind - important stuff,” Indie reiterated.

“Megamind is a classic,” I decided out loud, though I had never seen the movie before. “I have three brothers, and a sister.”

“A big family,” Indie observed. “That must be nice.”

“It is,” I admitted, thinking back to our goodbyes a few hours earlier, “for the most part, but we can get a little antsy. There’s plenty of teasing and pranks to go around! Having time to yourself must be nice, though!”

Idalia nodded knowingly. “I probably tease my brother more than he teases me.”

“Having time to myself can be nice,” Indie agreed, “but at least I get to live vicariously through my characters.” After a brief pause, she picked up the conversation again. “Oh, hey! Idalia, we never asked you what your profession was. You seem like a prankster. It has to be something interesting.”

I wasn’t the only one who got that vibe from Idalia then. The brunette leaned back in her seat, cracking a smile as she responded, “Interesting assumption. I fence sabre.”

My eyes immediately lit up. So that was where I knew her from! “Oh, wow, that’s awesome! I thought your name sounded kind of familiar! You fenced in the Olympics, right? My youngest brother had the games on all day, every day when they were being broadcasted!”

She brightened as well, her smile broadening. “I did. I’m going again next year. Or at least that’s the plan.”

“Ah, congratulations!” Thinking about all of her words had me biting my lip. “Are you nervous about the possibility of this Selection taking over a year? I know the officials said it shouldn’t, since it should display the prince’s decisiveness, but” I sighed, “I have to wonder how into the Selection he’s going to be, what with his engagement to Evie Waldia being cut off so recently.”

It was a fact Gabriel had been bringing up since the beginning. This wasn’t a quest for love, according to him, but a quest for the royal rebound. His argument only got worse once he realized how similar my name was to Evie’s. From that point onwards, he refused to address me as anything other than, “Evie 2.0,” much to my annoyance. I was my own person, not a new Evie, and not a rebound. My brother, of all people, should know that.

Idalia turned her head towards the ceiling. “Time will tell, but I doubt they will say I can’t go. Illea, like everyone else, sends people that can win. If I’m still one of the candidates when the time comes, it would be foolish of them to deny my participation.”

“That’s true,” I conceded. “It must be so cool, being able to compete for your country like that!”

“That really is cool, Idalia,” Indie echoed. “I’m sure you’ll get to go. It’s probably even better press for Illea if they send a Selected.”

I was inclined to agree. “That’s a good point! You’d get to be serving the nation in two ways at once!”

“I guess that could be said,” Idalia conceded, chuckling. “So we’ve got a film director, a bio major, a fencer, and,” she paused, looking at the fourth girl, who had shown no inclination to join in the conversation, “an unknown.”

“Should,” Indie bit her lip, and I tried to remember who the fourth girl on this plane should be. “Should we try to talk to her, or…” She trailed off again, not taking her eyes off the girl.

It hit me then. Shala Lie of Dominica.

“Shala?” I asked. No reply. I frowned and lowered my voice to a whisper, having the vague sense that Shala might still be listening in on our conversation. “Maybe she’s just very nervous.”

“Yeah, probably.” Indie shrugged. “Well, anyway, you girls seem really nice. It’s definitely made me feel a lot better about this whole process.”

“Likewise,” I replied. I had to admit, my smile was less forced this time. “It’s good to know that we’re not in this alone.”

Idalia took control of the conversation again. “I’m sure Prince Arin must be having a similar feeling.”

“Speaking of Prince Arin,” Indie began with a grin, “thoughts?”

I couldn’t help but blush at the thought of the prince. I kind of hated it. What was I, twelve years old? Nonetheless, I had to field my question. “Well, he is quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“He is quite handsome,” Indie echoed. “I’m excited to get to know him. Or, at least I hope I get the chance to know him.”

“Me too. I’d love to be able to talk to him and get to know him.” Admitting this to these girls, these almost strangers, was somehow less embarrassing than admitting it to anyone at home had been. “I’m sure he has lots of interesting stories to tell.”

“Yeah, probably. It’s just crazy that we are going to be living in the palace, of all places,” Indie gushed. “Hanging out with the prince, of all people. It feels like a fever dream!”

“Truly!” I had been saying as much since the letter first came in the mail. “I never imagined that this is where my life would actually take me!” The faint popping in my ears was my first clue, but a quick look out the window only confirmed my suspicions. “It looks like we’re about to land!”

“Yep.” Indie nodded in agreement. “We should keep in touch down there. I think it’ll be nice to have some friendly faces around.”

My smile was my main reply; my words were secondary. “Certainly!”

“I wonder if we’ll be near each other, room-wise,” Idalia chimed in.

Finally, something I could actually remember. “What rooms are you in? I’m in room eighteen.”

“Oh, uh, you know, we might be close to each other. Hold on.” Idalia paused, pulling a piece of paper out of her back pocket. She skimmed it for moment before finishing with, “Yeah, sixteen.” Her brows furrowed, then, as she looked over what I could only imagine must be a map. “Okay, so we’re in the same hall, but you’re right outside the circle of rooms around mine. Not the closest, but still same hall.”

I looked over her shoulder, taking it was was indeed a map, for myself. “Yeah, it looks like we’re diagonally across the from each other.” I smiled at Idalia, then. This could be good. “We should definitely be seeing each other around, then!”

“I’m in room six,” Indie announced, “but we will still see each other around!”

“I’ve heard there’s a woman’s room, and also etiquette lessons,” Idalia admitted.

“True.” My grin was one hundred percent genuine this time. “I’m kind of excited for the etiquette lessons. It’ll be nice to learn something different, for a change.”

“Oh, it’ll be something for sure,” Idalia agreed with an amused grin. “How to be photographed, how to curtsy, maybe which spoon is for the salad as well!”

I laughed at the joke. “I wonder if they’ll make us learn how to walk with books balanced on our heads.”

It was Indie’s turn to laugh now. “That would be funny to see,” she admitted, “but, trust me, that’s not the hard stuff. It’s the learning to talk to the press that’s hard.”

That was where the conversation ended, as the plane touched down and we were escorted down a carpet, through a large crowd of people, and into a limousine. It was silent at that point, and for that I was kind of grateful. I was out of Carolina. I was here, in the capital, possibly about to meet the love of my life, and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

#selectionoc #((sorry this is a long one lol))

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