#i do plan to get a phd eventually but not because of this

[champion-of-stone]

One day I'm going to go and get a geology PhD so when people call me "Mr. Stone" (really uncomfortable for reasons) instead of asking them to use my first name I can tell them to address me as Doctor

[wordy-little-witch]

More silly transfem Buggy ideas, Oro Jackson Edition

• Buggy asked a lot of questions as a child, was the reigning CHAMPION of "why". Including being told "you're a boy".

"But why?"

"Because your body is a boy's body, baby blue."

"Why do bodies be different? Why can't I be a girl?"

Roger at that point goes hmmmm, and just shrugs. "Well, you could! The kind of body you have is most common with boys, but I bet some girls have bodies like that too."

• Buggy grew up surrounded by men and fellas and dudes. The interactions with women were sparse, limited, and always temporary. The closest to a recurring feminine presence was Rouge, a few gals on Whitebeard's crew, and eventually Toki.

• when Buggy is about 8, she tells Roger that she wants to be a girl. Roger just ruffles her hair, picks her up to plop on his knee, and says, "Then a girl you are, my little buglet. I don't care if you're a girl, a boy, neither or both - you'll always be mine, and so you'll always be loved. Okay?"

"Okay... thanks, Cap."

• Rayleigh treated it like smth of a flight of fancy. He thought she was doing it because of smth else, so he tried pulling the whole "come to me in a year. If you still wish you were a girl, we'll talk then." It's unintentionally a pretty damaging thing, especially because Rayleigh even refuses to let her grow her hair out. It's during Buggy hissing, screaming, crying to get out of the mandatory hair cuts that Roger learns about it. Shanks went running for him.

• speaking of Shanks, he's the poster child for Ride Or Die. Buggy's shy about shopping but wants a dress? He's coming up with disguises. Buggy wants to present femme on ship but is scared of being made fun of? Shanks is putting on the MOST outlandish outfit he can and has 16842084 plans to make a ruckus. Buggy wants to experiment with her makeup? He's got a PhD in Hype Man Studies, from the University Of Besties.

• Buggy exploring her gender leads to Shanks exploring his own. He's a guy, he's comfortable with that, but he's also among the many who swear by maxi skirts bc those are COMFY holy shit. He's just a dude who sometimes wears a skirt.

• someone once made a side remark about Buggy being on the crew during a fight, they call her an it and thing.

Their head hits the ground just seconds afterwards.

• Whitebeard and Roger have semi-regular fight dates, like playdates but worse, after which the crews hang out and party. The one after Buggy comes out and has gotte some more confidence, she is bouncing around the crews, all big grins and talking to the girls and getting fussed over, or she's playing with the younger crew members and Shanks. He take one look at Buggy, beaming with her tiny little pigtails, her leggings, the mini skirt, blouse, and boots. He opens his mouth.

"We can't steal her, pops."

"But we could...!"

• Toki and Oden half adopt Buggy and Toki is adamant on passing down the Wano Rites to Buggy as well. Momo and Hiyori may be Wano's by blood, but Buggy is Wano's by soul and Toki refuses to let this girl slip through the cracks.

• Roger once heard someone call Buggy weak for being a girl and was ready to step in to handle it when Buggy just... goes feral. She beats the ever loving snot outta the guy, ends it with a "how's THAT for weak, dickbag!!"

He has to wipe away a tear. He's so proud.

• both cabin kids had special nicknames, and the main ones used by Roger for them are:

Shanks as the Red Menace (Menace)

Buggy as Pirate Princess (often just Princess)

((Both of them have those tattooed in their adulthood))

• Rouge meets Buggy and Shanks pre-coming out, greets them post like "hey boys!" Buggy corrects her hesitantly. Rouge is silent for a moment, turns on her heel, leaves, and immediately pops back, going "hey brats!!" Buggy had a moment of terror which then became relief-annoyance-embarassment-gratitude. Shanks just went from 🙂 to 😡 to 😃.

• Teach had a puppy crush on Buggy, which made her ALL KINDS of uncomfortable. She hated him from the start.

• she would put up with it tho on occasion for Missions. Nothing big, but when Rayleigh or someone else annoyed her and the crews were close, she'd run away to Whitebeard's crew and he'd help her gaslight the FUCK out of the other's. Just. Her in his lap, Roger in the fetal position on the deck like "pleeeaaassseee gimme my babbyyyyyyyy-"

Buggy, fighting an evil lil grin, turns to whitebeard like, "pops, is the weird man, okay?"

"I don't know, my girl, but don't mind him - my old friend here is an odd one."

"Okay, papa."

Roger makes a sound like a dying whale.

• Shanks bought Buggy a fancy custom hair piece for her birthday with matching earrings. Buggy then grabbed him by the collar and manhandled him beneath her to put one in his ear. He still wears it to this day. She wears the other one.

• Buggy is quick to crush, slow to LOVE, which was AGONY because Roger, Rayleigh, Gaban, Oden and Bullet were all varying g levels of WILDLY OVER PROTECTIVE. On the one hand - she's growing up 🥰. On the other? She's growing up!!!! 😨

• Bullet was frankly one of the WORST. Buggy was, to him, Baby Sister. Shanks was Baby Brother. Nobody, repeat NOBODY, was good enough for his little siblings. He and Roger were on the same page there. It led to some frankly mortifying yet hilarious hijinks.

• Roger was the type of man to get drunk and become COMPLETELY over the top with the love and affection. Buggy and Shanks were equal opportunity snuggle buddies, against their wishes. Shanks would wriggle to get to the booze himself. Buggy would just go limp and whine.

• the first time Buggy met Iva, she was starry eyed and scared. Roger held her hand the whole time, even as he threatened Ivankov with every single thing he could imagine, all sweet faced and menacing. That was how they found out Buggy's Devil fruit made her immune to piercings as well. She'd have to transition the old fashioned way, and use seastone for injections or sutures.

• Buggy actually cried that day.

• Crocus then requested Iva let him have a sample of their feminizing hormone to try his hand at synthesizing for Buggy. It never worked.

• Buggy goes on to find ways of transitioning that she can actually safely do, and Iva even goes on to reach out to other medical professionals to find options. If one girl couldn't be helped with their Devil fruit, who else was there? Who else needed the extra assistance? It inadvertly starts a wave in the medical community.

It's late and I'm running on fumes so nini for now okay ily baiiii

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 2

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Marshall takes Y/N for a drive and they open up about their sobriety experiences.

Tags : mentions of substance abuse

The drive wasn’t very long but it was kind of silent. You did not really know what to say, so you kept to yourself, as Marshall was driving. After a short while, you arrived to some sort of observatory, from where you could see the whole city of Detroit. The view was breathtaking. It was starting to get dark so you could see the lights from the building.

- Woah, you said as you got out of the car.

- Nice, huh ? Marshall asked.

- Definitely better than my room, you admitted.

- It’s one of my favourite places in the city, he explained. When I started recovery, I thought I was going crazy, staying in my house. So I started coming here everyday. Sometimes for twenty minutes. Sometimes for hours. But at least it got me up from the couch and out of the house.

- The city looks great from here, you said. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.

- It’s not highly touristic, Marshall explained. Not many people know about it. That’s what is so great.

- I have to admit I haven’t explored much of Detroit yet, you said.

- For how long have you been here ? He asked.

- About four years now. I came to get my Master’s degree, as an exchange student at University of Michigan. And then I got a PhD fellowship so I took the opportunity to stay. Plus, I got together with Simon around the same time so it kind of felt like it was meant to be.

- Simon’s your boyfriend ?

- Ex, you quickly corrected. We split up. Actually, he left when I was in the hospital. Hence the living situation with Jamal and Talia, who were kind enough to take me in.

- I see, Marshall said. So he left you because of the OD ?

- Kind of.

Without really thinking about it, you proceeded to tell him about the breakup. Something about Marshall made it easy to talk. He was easy-going and made you feel safe, as if you had known him forever and could share everything with him.

- I really thought we were endgame, you said. We were talking about getting married eventually. And having kids, too…

You stopped talking as you felt a knot forming in your stomach. Simply mentioning your plans of having kids with Simon brought back the memories of the miscarriage. That very event had been the beginning of the end for the two of you. Even though Simon had been saddened by the miscarriage, it hadn’t affected him much. You were the one who gad to deal with the days of bleeding, cramping and crying. You had become attached to this baby and had troubles coming to terms with the loss of this pregnancy. Simon, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine.

- We’ll try again, he had said. It happens. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, you know ?

Even though you knew he was right, you were hurt. It wasn’t about trying again. It was about processing your loss and grieving. It felt as if Simon had moved on as soon as you’d been told there was no heartbeat anymore. As time went on, you felt unable to talk about your grief, your pain and the trauma. So you started using more and more pills.

- YN ? You heard Marshall’s voice pulling you back to reality.

- Sorry, you said apologising profusely. I got in my head.

- It’s ok. Breakups are hard to talk about, he said. You’re really strong, you know ? With everything you’re going through right now.

- I kind of brought it on myself, you said sheepishly. If I hadn’t been using, I wouldn’t be going through this breakup right now.

- You never know what could have been. You just need to focus on getting better right now.

- Any wisdom to share ? You asked with genuine interest.

In fifteen years of sobriety, you assumed he had gained some wisdom you could use.

- Don’t be afraid to talk. Like, ever. In fact, I think that staying silent and alone with your thoughts makes you insanely more vulnerable and at risk for a relapse. Also, there are thousands of things I could tell you right now, but the only thing that matters is that, as lonely as you may feel, there are many, many people going through the same thing. You are not alone. Your road to recovery doesn’t have to be a lonely one.

He smiled and got closer to you as he spoke. He gently put a hand on your shoulder.

- You may lose people in the process but that doesn’t mean you can’t be surrounded by love and support, he finally said.

You felt a little lump in your throat and, for a second, you thought you’d cry.

- How did you get over the disappointment you caused people ? You asked, looking into his piercing blue eyes.

- By making amends and, mostly, creating new memories with them. The hardest thing for me was letting my family down, especially my children. I missed Christmas with them when I OD’d. I’ll never have that time back. But I make a point of sharing meaningful moments with them now. More than ever before, he said.

- Do they resent you ? You shyly asked.

- I’m pretty sure they did. My daughter is the one who found me unconscious, two hours away from dying. I guess the kids did suffer from my absence. They needed me as a parent, not as a burden. But I’m better now, I’m present and I’m here for them. That’s what matters. It’s in the past, now. What matters the most to me is that they know I love them.

You watched Marshall’s eyes as he gazed upon the horizon. Obviously, talking about his kids struck a chord.

- You seem like a great dad, you said. Your kids are lucky to have you.

- I try to be. To be fair, they’re the ones who are great. I owe them everything.

- Tell me about them, you asked.

The way Marshall spoke of his daughters sparked your interest. The sparkle in his eyes when he mentioned them warmed your heart and you could only hope that, one day, you would be so lucky to have kids you could love as much. Obviously, he loved talking about his daughters and bragging about them. You couldn’t help but think it must be a bit odd for them to have Eminem as a dad, growing up.

You chuckled at the thought of your own Dad, who was so different than Marshall, even though they were about the same age.

- What is so funny ? He asked with a smile. Sorry, I’m such a geek when I talk about my kids.

- No, it’s not that ! You reassured him. I was thinking of my father. I think you’re about his age but somehow you’re… cooler, I guess ?

- You’re only saying that because I’m not your father, Marshall assured you.

- Pretty sure not, you insisted.

After all, you highly doubted that Marshall’s daughters would trade their rapper father for yours. Maybe it was a matter of culture, but Marshall was warmer, more emotionally available.

- Are you close to your parents ?Marshall asked. They must be proud of you, getting your PhD and stuff.

- My mom died when I was two so I don’t have a lot of memories of her. I was raised by my father and his new wife. We’re not really close but I guess you could say they’re kind of proud, you explained.

- Do they know about your OD ?

- No, you admitted shyly. I couldn’t disappoint them like that. How would you react if the same thing happened to one of your girls ?

- I don’t think I’d be disappointed, Marshall said after a few seconds of thoughts. I’d be scared, concerned and, frankly, disappointed in myself if they ever felt the need to hide this from me. My job is to be there for them, come what may. If you were my daughter, I would want you to know that.

- Well, my Dad would never forgive me, you said without a thought.

- I think the forgiveness that matters the most is your own, he pointed out.

Marshall’s words meant a lot to you. Talking to him so candidly felt so good.

- What if I can’t forgive myself, Marshall ? You asked with tears welling in your eyes.

- You can. You deserve to, Y/N. Just because you fucked up doesn’t mean it’s over for you. You deserve to have great things coming your way, he replied as he pulled you in for a hug.

- But I’m a failure, you pointed out. I lied to everyone, I screwed everything up with Simon and even Talia doesn’t trust me anymore. I don’t even deserve you being so nice to me. Why are you so nice to me ?! You blurted out.

A smile started to form on Marshall’s lips.

- Because kindness isn’t meant to be deserved anyway, He said. When I got sober, I had amazing people helping me out. I always told myself I’d do the same for anyone else in need, he explained. And you may think you deserve to have everyone hating you, but the truth is, I haven’t heard anything but good things about you from Talia and Jamal. They love you and they think the world of you. That tells me you’re pretty cool.

You let out a laugh and dried your tears.

- Thank you, Marshall. For everything.

- My pleasure, Y/N.

The two of you kept on gazing at the lights of the city for a while, making small talk. At some point, you found yourself shivering. Marshall offered you his jacket but you felt kind of tired and asked if he would mind driving you back instead. On the way home, you stared at him and realised that, even though you’d just met him, you felt insanely comfortable around him. You were thankful for making his acquaintance. Also, you couldn’t help but tell yourself he looked as good as he was kind - which was saying something. He wasn’t really your usual type but you found him quite appealing. And you started blushing as soon as you realised that you were kind of attracted to someone who was old enough to be your father. You shrugged it off and told yourself that it was probably your vulnerability playing you.

When you arrived at Talia and Jamal’s, he stopped the car and stepped out to open your door. He hugged you goodbye and reached for his necklace before handing it to you.

- It helped me through some tough times, I hope it does the same for you, he said before kissing your forehead.

- Won’t you need it though ? You asked.

- I’m good, he simply said. Take care, Y/N.

You smiled and waved goodbye as he got back to the car. You had no idea as to whether you’d see him again or not, but it did not really matter in this moment. You felt as if there was purpose in the moments you just shared. Even if you never crossed path again, you knew you’d forever be thankful for him. You put the necklace around your neck and entered the house with a smile on your face.

- Well, someone looks cheerful, Talia said as you walked through the door.

- Yeah, we had a great talk, you said. He is very nice. Is everyone gone ?

- They went out to dinner, she said. I stayed so that you wouldn’t come home to an empty place.

- You didn’t have to !

- I don’t mind, really. Plus, I think it’s good for Jamal.

- He loves having you around, you pointed out. And everyone seems to like you too !

- They’re super cool, she admitted. But I can do without the boys’ talk, she added with a grin. Plus, now, I have a live-in bestie ! A bestie with a necklace that definitely rings a bell, she pointed out.

As soon as those words left her mouth, you knew you were in for a long series of questions.

[goddess-aelin]

Friends Don’t Fall In Love

For Rowaelin Month day 4: Friends Don’t Do This

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: we got a little angsty up in here. But happy ending, I promise!

It started as a typical night, the night that Aelin’s world came crashing down. She’d been out with her friends, huddled together in one of the sticky red booths that dotted the crappy dive bar in their college town. She was two drinks in when he decided to make the announcement that would change everything.

They were graduating in a month, of course Aelin realized that. She realized that they probably would all go somewhat separate ways. But she always thought they’d all stay in Terrasen even if it was in different cities. Aelin already had a job lined up in Orynth, the biggest publishing firm in the country already hiring her for a paid internship as soon as she graduated. Elide was going back to her home in Perranth and wherever she went, Lorcan was sure to follow. Lysandra found out she had some family in Caraverre and always wanted to visit, though she wasn’t sure about after that. Aedion would be working for her families firm, Galathynius Enterprises, in their marketing division and, even though he hadn’t admitted it yet, would probably be spending most of his weekends in Caraverre. Fen was a wild card. She wasn’t sure what his plans were but she was sure they’d be dramatic and exciting.

And that left him. She always thought that as her best friend, they were a package deal. She thought that he would be coming to Orynth with her, working at the Terrasen National Museum while getting his masters and eventual PhD in Historical Artifacts. He once told her that Terrasenian history was some of the most interesting he’d ever studied and that’s why he came to Allsbrook for college. That had been all he could talk about for the last few months.

So why was he all of a sudden saying that he accepted a two year position as a research assistant in Wendlyn? Not only was it a different country, but it was across the damn sea. It’s not like she could drive to him or even call him late at night when she was going to bed. Because by that time, it’d be early in the morning for him and he’d be living his best life as a Wendlynite. He’d forget all about her, she knew.

Even though Lysandra and Elide were moving away, it didn’t bother her as much as it did with him. He was supposed to be her best friend. He was supposed to always be there for her, her partner in crime with whatever came their way. He hadn’t even told her he was looking elsewhere. Maybe she didn’t mean as much to him as he did to her, after all.

The thought sent a pang of hurt that ran deeper than she wanted to acknowledge in the middle of a dive bar.

Of course, she knew she was in love with him. She would have been an idiot not to have realized that her stomach flipped every time he walked into the room. That every time he held her hand, she wished it wasn’t in comfort or reassurance but rather because he simply wanted to. That she wanted to kiss him so badly that sometimes the ache was unbearable.

But it didn’t matter. Because he was moving away. He would start a new life in Wendlyn, where the weather was always warm and he didn’t have to worry about commuting in the snow. Where the people were known for their friendliness and the women for their beauty. Where he was only two hours away from the family he grew up with.

Why would he want to come back here after the two years were up? She sure as hell wouldn’t blame him for staying.

A wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol washed over her. It was all she could do to not hurl her guts up on the table that was surrounded by her friends. She could feel Lysandra’s side-eyed gaze burning a hole into her face. She could feel Elide’s pity. She could feel that he was starting to wonder why she hadn’t said anything after his announcement.

She felt as though she was going to crawl out of her skin. She just needed to get home, throw up, take a shower, and cry it all out. That’s what she told herself, at least. Then she’d be over him. She’d make peace with him being a passing ship in her life and nothing more. She had to.

She rose from the table, not meeting his eyes. “I’m not feeling well, guys. I’m going to head out. I’ll call an Uber, don’t worry.” Her voice shook even though she tried her damndest to procure some sort of levity from the pit growing in her stomach. She met Lysandra’s gaze, who gave her a sad, knowing smile. And with a wave, she walked out the door.

Once outside, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths of the still-cool Terrasen air. It was April yet it still felt like winter. Point to Wendlyn. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts so she could call her Uber. The alcohol certainly wasn’t helping her coordination as she tried to type her address into the search bar but ended up dropping her phone. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes and her vision started to blur from the quickly swelling liquid.

Before she could bend down to pick up her phone, a familiar hand was in front of her, holding her phone.

“Rowan!” Her hand flew to her chest, “Gods, I didn’t see you!” She went to grab her phone from his grip yet he held the device like his life depended on it.

“Fireheart, what's wrong?” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to wrap around her back to pull her into a hug.

She shimmied away.

His brows furrowed. “Did I…did I do something?”

Her vision was starting to blur even more but the only thing she could do was shake her head.

“What can I do? Do you really not feel well? Or I can just get my keys and–”

“No!” She didn’t mean to shout but it was all too much. “No,” she tried again, this time voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t need help. I just…I just want to go home.”

“Let me drive you. You were out of there before I could even offer. I’m ready to call it a night anyway.” He was trying to get her to smile but she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Please don’t. Please.” She turned away from him, hoping that he couldn’t see how badly she was hurt. She never should have let him in, never should have come to rely on him so much that even the thought of him being taken away from her left her without any air to breathe.

The stubborn ass rounded to the front of her, placing a hand under her chin to bring her gaze up to his. “Fireheart, please. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

She jerked out of his grip again, noticing the hurt that crossed his face. The hurt, vindictive part of her was pleased that perhaps he feel even a fraction of the hurt she was. But the better part of her, the one that was wholly in love with him, hated the way she was being with him. She never, ever wanted to hurt him in any way.

Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes were wide and she would’ve thought he was a statue for how still he was standing. “I wanted…wanted to surprise you. I didn’t even know if I’d get the job since they only hire two people in the entire world every year. My shot was pretty slim and I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were thinking of it. I thought the plan was to come to Orynth?”

“It was. It still is. This is temporary, only two years. I’ll be back before you know it. Is that why you’re so upset?”

She shook her head. “You got the job because you’re amazing. Because they’d be stupid not to hire someone as smart and passionate as you are. And in turn, they’d be stupid not to offer you a permanent position after the two years are up. Can you honestly tell me that there is a 100% chance of you coming back here after the two years are up if you’re offered a position?”

“Well–I…no? Nothing is ever 100%. But the plan is still to come back here.” His voice was getting desperate and she could tell frustration was taking over. They were going around in circles and everything Aelin wanted to say to him all these years was finally coming out- just not in the way she wanted.

“You’re close to your family, Rowan. You’ll have beautiful weather, beautiful views, new friends.” At the last part, his brow furrowed.

“Is that what this is about? You think I’m going to make new friends and just drop you?”

“I–yes. No! I don’t know!” She felt like crying again, the intensity of the need to just scream building and building. She knew it would come out soon, one way or another.

“I thought you’d be happy for me! I’ll still text you and call you. I’ll come visit, of course. I’m not dropping off the face of the earth!”

“I am happy for you!”

“Then why are you so upset!?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, you asshole!” And there it was. The floodgates finally opened, the final plank that boarded up her heart broke completely. While the feeling of her heart breaking was awful, she also felt like a weight was released. She only had the energy to whisper a repeated, “I love you.”

Rowan stood there, frozen and mouth gaping. It looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Didn’t know how. She knew rejection when she saw it. At least it was out there, at least she wouldn’t let him go knowing that she had hidden something so amazing and terrifying and beautiful from him. Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

Aelin hardened her gaze after a few moments of no-reply. “Don’t worry, it’s a common mistake. I’ll get over it.”

At that, Rowan seemed to awaken. And he looked angry. “Falling in love is not a mistake.”

“It is when it was with you. Friends don’t do this.”

“Then I guess I’ve been making a mistake the last four fucking years, Aelin!” She swore her heart stopped. “Because I’ve been in love with you since you sat next to me in Freshman Seminar and opened your damn mouth. And I never dreamed that you felt the same way. You never gave any indication that you felt the same way.”

She scoffed. “I flirted with you all the time.”

“You’re flirty with all of your friends. We’re best friends. It’s just what we do, how we are. And I was fine with that. With thinking that you never returned my feelings. Even if it hurts like hell all the damn time.”

They both were silent for what seemed like hours. She didn’t realize how close they had gotten. If they were the same height, their noses would probably be touching. Rowan seemed to realize it at the same moment because he took a small step back. But to her surprise, he brought his hands up to cup her face. With a gentleness that made her heart want to explode, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Fireheart. I love you. I have loved you for years and I will continue to love you for many more. You have to know that. It’s only you.”

Tears were freely flowing down her face and she wasn’t ashamed. Gently, slowly, she brought her lips to meet his. The kiss was sweet and exploratory, no heat or passion. No, this kiss was meant to heal, to shape, to show how much they cared. How much they loved.

“I love you, Rowan.”

He pulled her into a hug that felt like it slowly mended her back together. For the first time in a while, she was absolutely content. She had nowhere to be other than in this moment, in the arms she felt safest in. He was her home and perhaps that’s why she reacted so badly to his news. Gods. She was an ass.

“I’m so sorry.” She broke the tight embrace so she could meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I am happy for you. Gods, I’m so damn proud of you. I always knew you could do anything you ever dreamed of.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you said what you did.” He cupped her face once more to place a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’m going to Wendlyn. I’m going to call you every damn day and visit as often as I can. We are going to make it work and it will work because it’s us and we’re inevitable. And when the two years are up, I’m coming back home. To you, Fireheart.”

The smile he gave her was so sweet she could have melted into a puddle.

A slow half smile crossed his face. “Ask me what I’m researching in Wendlyn.”

She was confused at the abrupt change but decided to play along. “What are you researching in Wendlyn, research assistant Whitethorn?”

He chuckled and brought his lips close enough to hers to share breath as he whispered, “Terrasenian artifacts that somehow ended up in Wendlyn’s museum.” Oh. Oh. “The plan was always to come home, Fireheart.”

A fresh wave of tears poured over her as she buried her face in his chest. “I love you so much. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He chuckled again and placed a few kisses to her hair, her forehead, her nose, and finally, her lips.

“Just think Aelin, you always wanted to visit Wendlyn and now you’ll have the perfect reason to.”

“I think maybe you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here. I’m only coming to visit Wendlyn for the fabulous food.”

“Mmhm, says the woman who just confessed her undying love for me in the middle of the sidewalk where anyone could hear. Keep telling yourself that.”

She loved when the playful side of Rowan came out. “Hmm, I don’t think those were quite the words I used.”

“Close enough.”

She laughed as he brought her face to meet his once more. Maybe falling in love with your best friend wasn’t such a bad idea.

A/N: Me?? Writing a bit of angst!??? I know, it’s a shocker but I couldn’t end it badly. They needed to have a happy ending.

Tagging:

@violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 1

You're successful, you're independent, and you pride yourself in both. But your friends think you could do with a man.

Warnings: Mentions of drinking wine. Reader is a bit of a workaholic. Like, one swear word. Proofread but probably a mistake or two in there somewhere. Word count: 2,031 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Welcome to the re-write! I wanted to write this last year, around the same time as my Doctor Steven Grant, PhD series, but it got put on hiatus due to some not nice real life stuff, but it's back! I hope you enjoy it!

These are your texts. These are Santi's texts.

Series Masterlist ● Part 2

You had the tendency to prove people wrong. Only when they had negative connotations of you, of course. You didn’t do it to be an obnoxious know-it-all.

For instance, you stuck it to your family when your parents scoffed at your idea of going into marketing instead of medical, like your sisters. You’d worked your ass off at college and graduated top of your class, those naysay comments from your parents in the front of your mind as you tossed your cap at your ceremony. Because of your hard work, you had moved to Florida for an amazing job opportunity. Granted, it wasn’t New York (which is the end goal for you jobwise), but you were the head of your very successful team, and it gave you the chance to separate yourself from your hometown (and therefore, your judgemental parents).

Let’s not forget the time you bought your apartment. Your friends had laughed at the size of it, claiming that you would want more space eventually, but it was yours, and you made it your own. Now your friends had decided your apartment was the best for your wine nights (which used to be bi-weekly, but plans changed when kids were coming into the picture), because it was the most quiet and you had the comfiest couch.

And lastly, you had proven than you didn’t need a man. Sure, it would be a nice perk to have, but you were happy being single. Whilst your friends were settling down and looking to move to nice neighbourhoods with good schools, you were dating around. Your love life was mostly filled with a few dates and one-night stands. You had dabbled in online dating every now and then, but that usually fizzled out after a few weeks. It didn’t bother you, you enjoyed meeting so many new people and having all these experiences to share.

Your dating life was a common topic of conversation between your peers. Your friends frequently teased you over it, wondering when you were going to ‘settle down’ yourself. You usually laughed it off. It never bothered you, why would it? You were a full-grown adult who could make decisions for herself, and it wasn’t any of their business at the end of the day. You’ve come to embrace being ‘that friend’ who was perpetually single.

It made sense that they would tease you about it, you were nearly thirty (not like there was a deadline or anything, you had plenty of time to ‘find’ someone). You weren’t even sure if you wanted kids, or to settle down. It may have worked out for others, who was to say it would work out just the same for you? You were perfectly happy focusing on yourself and your career.

Your day started out like any other. You woke up early, already sweating, huffing at the hot air of Florida. Your AC conked out last week, and you hadn’t found the time to get someone out to look at it. Your biggest client is launching their brand in a month’s time, so you and your team had been working aggressively hard to make sure you were meeting your deadlines and that your effort was up to par and more.

Which meant you’d been spending your weekday evenings mostly at the office than in your own apartment.

Answering a few morning emails and eating your breakfast before getting ready for work, you sent a quick text in your group chat to confirm that wine night was still good to go for later that night, since it was unusual to have your girl nights on a Monday (but it was the only time anyone had free, and it had been a long time since any of you were free at the same time). The evening was planned out perfectly, you’d even treated yourself and your friends to some decent wine, since this was the first wine night in months. You were truly happy for your friends, and you still saw each other every now and then, but God, there was nothing like your wine nights.

You weren’t expecting a text back from anyone until later in the day, so you continued with your morning. You made it into work with the usual traffic, a coffee in your hands from the local Starbucks. You sat at your desk and booted up your computer, checking your voicemails in the meantime.

“Good morning!”

You held back a grimace as you greet your desk mate.

Emily is nice enough, but overly chipper. She was blonde, bubbly, and always wore bright clothing. She was young, straight out of college and had joined the team a few months ago. She was still trying to find her feet in the company, and tried hard to make friends, something that she had frequently come to you about. Recently, she’d been hanging out with George and Juliet in accounts since they were of a similar age.

You suspected she had a thing for George.

“How was your weekend?” Emily asked, throwing her pink handbag to the floor and sitting in her chair.

“It was good. How was yours?” you ask.

“It was fine, thanks. Our new roommate moved in.”

Emily had been living with her sister and her sister’s boyfriend. Turned out the boyfriend had been sleeping around with some of the girls and guys from his gym and Emily and her sister had kicked him out. Last you heard he’d moved back in with his parents out of town.

“How’s that going?”

“Good, so far! Think Becca is just glad to have all his stuff gone and have her own space back.” Emily shook her head with wide eyes as she logged into her computer. “But she’s panicking now, because she wants to settle down. She’s nearly twenty-six, she thought she would be married by now. She was even talking about kids with this guy, so she’s feeling a little nervy about being on her own. Oh! That reminds me…”

Emily turned to look back at you, a grin on her face. You raise an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“There’s someone I think you should meet.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at your co-worker. One, because Emily had linked her sister’s ‘impending doom’ at being single with you, and two, it was the same story every time. Someone knows someone you should meet, and you go out on a date, but nothing ever comes of it. “Who do I need to meet, Emily?”

“My neighbour,” she replied, smiling widely. “His name is Santiago. He’s great, he was in the army for a while, but he’s retired now.”

“Retired?” you pulled a face. Trust Emily to try and set you up with an old fogey.

Emily shook her head quickly at you, almost as if she’d read your mind. “No, not retired like you think, he’s not old. He’s barely forty. And he’s really good looking, and nice.”

You shook your head at her. “I don’t know, Emily, work is busy, and the launch is soon…I don’t even have time to fix my AC at home, never mind go on a date.”

Emily pulls a face and makes a noise that reminds you of a toddler not getting their own way. “Come on, he’s funny and charming, and he might be ‘the one’!”

You had never believed in that kind of stuff; ‘the one’ and ‘soulmates’ and all that. You believed that there were so many people in the world, that you can (and will) fall in love multiple times throughout your life. Sure, sometimes people do just find one person who they are happy with and choose to be with for the rest of their lives, but that just wasn’t you.

But – saying that - it had been a while since you went out on a proper date. You could do with having a bit of fun and getting out the office and your apartment. And Emily liked to think she was some sort of match maker, so you’d like to humour her, just this once. “Okay, fine.”

Emily smiled widely as she excitedly gave you Santiago’s number, telling you that he was already expecting a text from you. You pull a face at her at the fact she had already anticipated you would say yes (or were you just that predictable?) and had given Santiago the heads up. You saved his number quickly before throwing your phone in your desk drawer and turning back to Emily. “Let’s finish up these mock ups and get them sent out. If we get these out of the way, we can focus on looking into finalising the merchandise.”

Your day was filled with multiple phone calls, plenty of meetings, and regular catch ups with your clients. You had hit a few snags, which could potentially delay the launch, but you were determined not to get to that point, already setting up possible plans and sending them to your client for approval. You finally sat down for your lunch when everyone was readying up for leaving for the day and going home.

You scrolled through your phone as you ate your lunch (which might as well be your dinner at this point). You caught up on your texts (wine night was still on!) and scrolling through what you’d missed on the client's social media (not much). You suddenly remembered about Santiago, who Emily had decided to set you up with. You grinned as you found his number and started a new text chain.

Hi, you introduce yourself. I’m Emily’s co-worker, she might have mentioned I would text you today?

It was a few minutes later when you received a reply.

Hey. Emily did mention you’d message. I’m Santiago. Have you thought about where you'd like to go for our date? Any preference on food?

Oh, okay, straight to the point.

I'm open to suggestions. I like pretty much anything, do you have any recommendations?

There’s this little Italian restaurant called Bella Cucina. The food is amazing, and it has a cosy atmosphere. It's not too far from where I live.

Italian sounds perfect! What day works for you?

How about Saturday? We could aim for a 7:30pm reservation if that suits you? Emily mentioned you’d been spending a lot of time at the office.

And considerate.

Saturday sounds great. 7:30pm works well for me. I'm really looking forward to it. Just to be sure, Bella Cucina is on Main Street, right?

Bella Cucina is on Main Street. I'll make the reservation for two under my name.

That’s great, I’ll put it in my schedule. I look forward to meeting you!

See you then, have a great rest of your week.

He seemed nice enough. A little stiff, maybe, but that might be due to his army background. You wondered what he looked like. You could look him up on social media if you wanted to, but you barely used the accounts you had; mainly you updated your client’s posts as requested. You imagined Santiago to be a stereotypical, muscled man with a buzzcut and lots of tattoos. One who was stoic and stern, very set in his ways.

You’d definitely dated that guy in the past.

You placed your phone back into your bag before gathering the packages of your lunch/dinner. The office was quiet, meaning everyone had probably gone home. You threw away your rubbish, walking back towards your desk to finish up a few more emails and shut down your computer. Your friends would be arriving at your place in just over an hour, so you had to make a move.

You lock up the office and make your way out of the building, making your way to your car in it’s usual parking space in the lot next door. Luckily traffic didn’t look too bad, so you should have enough time to get home and quickly and shower before setting up for wine night for when your friends arrived.

You knew you’d be fine. You could do it. You were you, and you get shit down. Apart from fixing your AC. You really needed to call someone about that.

[superlinguo]

Barb Kelly

This time last year came the sudden, unexpected news of the death of Barbara F. Kelly's. Barb Kelly was one of my undergraduate lecturers, my principle PhD supervisor, and eventually a collaborator and friend. I have mentioned Barb in passing on the blog over the years, but now we've muddled through a year without her, I finally feel like I have some space to reflect on the fact she has been one of the most important influences the course of my life.

Barb was many things to many people. She managed to do this by being deeply curious about people, and had a devastatingly compelling ability to give you her full attention when you were talking with her. She was interesting because she was interested; her friendships, hobbies and tastes were eclectic and wide-ranging. There's a really beautiful obituary from our colleague Nick Evans that captures the story of Barb's life. This is my story of how Barb shaped me as a linguist, a researcher and a person.

I first encountered Barb when she was teaching in my final year of a Bachelor of Arts. The third year subject Language and Culture was a romp through kin terms, colour theory, names, primates, spatial systems, social intelligence, politeness, and so much more. Barb was an enthusiastic lecturer, with anecdotes, contextualisation and rich examples every week.

One week she introduced us to the topic of gesture. I was intrigued! How had I made it through a whole degree without encountering this work! (now that I write courses, I know how hard it is to find space in the curriculum for every topic worthy of attention, and gesture rarely features at all in undergraduate coursework). At the end of the lecture Barb said "this is one of my favourite topics. You're not allowed to do you're final assignment on this unless you see me first, because I don't want to read a bad assignment on this topic."

I still remember when I went to talk to her about it, and experienced the full intensity of the undivided attention of Barb Kelly for the first time. At some point, mildly bewildered by all this new reading, I wondered how we even knew that people paid attention to different types of gesture. "I always thought that would be a good topic for an honours thesis," Barb mentioned, before walking me back to something more manageable for a class paper.

[A brief time jump: The last time Barb and I caught up, it was getting to the end of the year and we were trying to avoid editing a paper. Somehow we got talking about the first time we met. Barb's main recollection was: "You were so weird." Barb thought it was very funny, but I also think that being interesting to Barb Kelly was a delightful compliment.]

A couple of weeks later, I went back and asked "could... I be the person who did that paper you mentioned?" At the very end of the final semester of my degree, I threw in my plans for a fourth year of Art History. I'm not usually one to change big plans so dramatically, but I decided that I wanted to do linguistics if I got to do the kind of linguistics Barb did. Of course, many years later when we were talking about it she laughed "I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't want you to do it!"

That's how we got working on a small honours project to see what kinds of gestures and other movement people report that they pay attention to. It was an in-the-spirit replication of an old task Adam Kendon set up in the 1970s with a projector and silent film, but we used a computer and software that let people mark what they thought a gesture was (this became, many years later, Gawne & Kelly 2014). Just as I was finishing up data collection Barb disappeared. She had colorectal cancer and (although I didn't know this at the time) the prognosis was terrible.

At the end of that year I felt quite lost. I had finished the project, but didn't really know what to do next. I managed to get an office job for a while; it was fun to have a steady income after years of student life, but I got bored pretty quickly. I had planned a long nonsense holiday in Europe to distract myself. Barb had returned to work and I emailed her about catching up for coffee. I even fact-checked this in my email archive, and apparently I asked to "pick [her] brain about post-grad courses". It's easy to forget, with the benefit of hindsight, just how little idea I had of what I could do, what I should do or how I should go about making any of it happen. The only people I knew who had PhDs were the ones who taught me. I do remember we talked about where there was good work being done, the difference between Australian/UK and North American PhD programs and what kind of topics I might do. Barb then mentioned that she had a project she was working on and they were looking for someone do contribute by doing a PhD on evidential systems of a Tibeto-Burman language from Nepal. How was I meant to come up with a better idea than that? She promised me that her oncologist gave her at least the four years I needed to finish a PhD, because I am excessively practical and Barb had a very good sense of humour. I mailed my application to do a PhD at The University of Melbourne from a post office in Malta while on my holiday. I only mention this because it sounds very nonsense and like something form the 1930s.

[A disclaimer here: I usually strongly discourage students from staying at their undergaduate institution for graduate study. But I also point out I'm a giant hypocrite and staying at UoM to work with Barb was a good decision for me. Please take into account the survivor bias. Barb believed in me and that was more useful than anything another institution could have provided]

The week before I started my PhD with Barb, we caught up off campus with Sara, another PhD student who was about to start working with Barb. Barb used it as an opportunity to explain to us that even though a PhD would be big and demanding and important, it was also important that we didn't let it stop us living the rest of our lives, "if you need to, take a break to tour with a band or have a kid, that's important too" I was worried she was maybe expecting I had time to start a band as well as do a PhD? but it also left a lasting impression on me. She was so good at talking through the linguistic content of what I was doing, but also socialising me into the expectations of academia, while being realistic about life also happening. With Rachel Nordlinger as co-supervisor and Jill Wigglesworth as chair, they were an amazing, sometimes slightly terrifying, dream team who took their roles as supervisors, teachers and mentors seriously.

After my PhD, Barb joined me in the work with Andrea Berez-Kroker on data management. We also tinkered away on other things; including getting my honours thesis published. She helped me plan job applications, and even loaned me her office when I had video interviews. When I left Melbourne for post-docs we'd meet in different corners of the world. She was supportive and practical during many of my less optimistic moments while I was precariously employed. I enjoyed that my postdoc work allowed me to return to gesture, and spend more time doing lingcomm stuff, while still continuing to do work on evidentials and language documentation. Having Barb as a role-model mean that I normalised having a range of interests as a strength. I still spend a lost of time at a desk, but it's as far away as possible from the monotonous office job I left to come back to do a PhD.

In late 2020 Barb had a cardiac arrest. When La Trobe offered me an ongoing job in that same week, I apologised to her for texting her while she was in ICU. Obviously this is important because I'm the protagonist of my own story, even though it's a story about Barb, but I also wanted to mention it because a recurring theme in conversations over the last year has been "but, even when she technically *died* she still came back", which hasn't really helped things sink in.

I am pretty much the age Barb was when we first met. And, a couple of years into a tenured teaching/research role, I'm in a similar place professionally. And that's very much thanks to Barb. Without Barb I would not have done honours in linguistics, and I would not have come back to do a PhD. I wouldn't have been ready to face the grueling academic job market, and I wouldn't have normalised the importance of having more in life to define you than your job.

I miss talking with Barb all the time. There have been moments in the last year when I've been introducing someone to the bouba/kiki test, writing about my favourite gesture papers or talking through a problem a grad student is having with their writing, and I get to continue Barb's passion and enthusiasm. I am so grateful for the influence she has had on me as a linguist, teacher, supervisor and human, and I'm grateful I get to pass that on.

Co-authored papers This is a list of all the published papers for which we were co-authors. I'm proud that they represent a good range of our shared interests across gesture studies, language documentation, and data management. We have one more forthcoming paper, a handbook chapter on discourse in Tibeto-Burman languages, which is the other major area of shared interest that carried through my PhD work and beyond.

Gawne, Lauren, Chelsea Krajcik, Helene N. Andreassen, Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker & Barbara F. Kelly. 2019. Data Transparency and Citation in the Journal Gesture. Gesture 18(1): 83–109. https://doi.org/10.26181/5f57fddc85ebb [Superlinguo blog post]

Berez-Kroeker, A.L., L. Gawne, S. Kung, B.F. Kelly, T. Heston, G. Holton, P. Pulsifer, D. Beaver, S. Chelliah, S. Dubinsky, R. Meier, N. Thieberger, K. Rice & A. Woodbury. 2018. Reproducible Research in linguistics: A position statement on data citation and attribution in our field. Linguistics 56(1): 1-17. https://doi.org/10.1515/ling-2017-0032 [Superlinguo blog post]

Gawne, L., B.F. Kelly, A.L. Berez- Kroeker & T. Heston. 2017. Putting practice into words: The state of data and methods transparency in grammatical descriptions. Language Documentation & Conservation 11: 157-189. [OA PDF] [Superlinguo blog post]

Gawne, L. & B.F. Kelly. 2014. Revisiting ‘significant action and gesture categorisation. Australian Journal of Linguistics 34 (2): 216-233. https://doi.org/10.26181/5e4b684d8f1e9

Gawne, L., B.F. Kelly & A. Unger . 2010. Gesture categorisation and understanding speaker attention to gesture. In Y. Treis & R. De Busser (Eds), Selected papers from the 2009 conference of the Australian Linguistic Society. Melbourne: La Trobe University. [PDF]

[jessicalprice]

touch the duck

(reposted from Twitter)

One of my favorite things about cats is how they set goals for themselves and then engage in sheer bloody-minded stubbornness, but because they're cats it's also sneaky and circuitous, but like, not COMPETENT.

When I was in Vacationland with my parents at the house they rent there every year, my sister brought her cat with her to his Country Estate.

And in the central room of the house is this old stone fireplace with, y'know, the stones sort of sticking out of the cement they're embedded in. And on either side of the fireplace, about 8 inches below the ceiling, was a small, shallow shelf.

I have no idea what these shelves were for, btw. They were largely inaccessible by virtue of being so high up and so shallow.

On one side of the fireplace was a built-in set of bookshelves that came up to about mid-chest and then had a nice broad surface, then shallower shelves above that, and then way up at the top, the tiny useless shelf, which was empty. On the other side of the fireplace was a door into a little hallway, off of which was a bathroom and one of the bedrooms. Above the door was the tiny, useless shelf. This one held a wooden duck.

It became the cat's mission in life to touch the duck.

My sister, of course, didn't want him getting up on that shelf because she was worried he'd get hurt jumping down from that high. My parents didn't want him getting up there because they were afraid he'd knock down the duck and break it.

I was the only person who supported Mission: Duck Touching.

I spent the evenings whispering to him, "You can do it, lil' buddy. Live your dreams. Touch the duck."

He began training for this mission by jumping up on the bookcase top on the other side, then parkouring up the fireplace, which made an excellent climbing wall, then jumping up to the tiny shelf. It was a difficult landing to stick, because it was so tiny. He missed a lot.

He also had the unfortunate habit of running into the room, skidding to a stop like Kramer on Seinfeld, and making a small, high-pitched yodeling noise to announce that he was going to make an attempt to get to the practice shelf.

This, of course, gave my parents and/or sister ample time to stop him. My furry nephew's a smart boy, though, so eventually he figured out that announcing his intentions was a tactical error. I may have had a talk with him one evening under the cover of watching Law & Order together and advised him to keep his mouth shut until he had reached the mountaintop.

After a few days of training and planning, he snuck in while we were figuring out dinner, ascended the bookcase, climbed the rock wall, and, with a triumphant yodel, made it to the practice shelf.

He was very proud of himself. I was very impressed. My sister was less appreciative. He was retrieved from the shelf and given a bit of a scolding. But now he knew he could make it from the rock wall onto the shelf.

It was time to initiate Stage Two. This was considerably more challenging: there was no bookshelf from which to launch into the rock-climbing, and the already small landing area on the shelf was mostly occupied by the duck. After knocking a bag of his treats onto the floor so the dog would get into them and draw off some of the heat, he ascended the bookcase, climbed halfway up the rockwall, and began to parkour across to the other side of the fireplace.

Unfortunately, the dog is an Australian Cattle Dog/German Shepherd mix and has like 9 dog PhDs and one tiny zip-bag was no impediment to her inhaling all of his bonito flakes in like 14.5 seconds. The cat was almost to the other side of the fireplace when the rest of us looked away from the bag-shredding whirlwind and noticed him. He was retrieved, confined, and sent to his room.

Thereafter he was confined to the room during the day so he couldn't hurt himself while we were out hiking and cheese tasting and sailing and all the other stuff you do in Vacationland.

The following evening was the last night my sister was spending with us before she went home. The cat was released from his daily confinement. He behaved with exaggerated, innocent affection. When we were all engrossed in a wine tasting I'd set up in the dining room (complete with lightly sauteed squares of Juusto cheese drizzled with buckwheat honey, HIGHLY RECOMMENDED BTW), he made his move.

He managed to land silently on the bookcase. I'd arranged the table so I was facing the living room and everyone else had their backs or sides toward it. The bookcase landing attracted no attention. He scaled the rock wall gracefully, and sidled across to the doorway side. He twisted so as much of him was facing the duck as possible, and prepared to make the complicated jump with the flip in the middle. But then he seemed to lose confidence. I was alarmed for him. Everyone was finishing the last of the wines, and would turn around and move to the living room while we discussed what we wanted to do that evening.

At last he braced himself a little more firmly, fixed his gaze on the duck, and... 

 ...let out an anticipatory yodel. I'm not fluent in his dialect of Cat, but I'm pretty sure it was "YOLO!" or something.

My sister heard, sprang to her feet, rushed into the living room, and caught him in midair.

The following morning, he departed in his carrier, paws stretched through the bars toward the duck he still hadn't touched.

My mother has declared we will rent a different house next year because this one lacks sufficient seating.

Alas, his Everest remains unscaled.

BUT. There are things we can learn from him. 

1) Practice builds confidence. 

2) Enlist allies to help you overcome obstacles. (He made good use of the dog.) 

3) When the moment comes, don't hesitate.

Believe in yourself. Touch the duck. If you're going to fail, fail gloriously in midair. Do it for the little cat with big dreams.

(I did slip him a note as he was carted out promising that I would make sure the house next year has a duck even if I have to bring one myself. He is my nephew, after all. I don't want him to give up on his dreams.)

[rweoutofthewoods]

Random thought of the day: what do you think everyone in ppp studied / does for a living? We know about dorcas, barty, reg and i think marlene (?) But what about everyone else?

I don't know why I had this random thought but now I can't get it out of my head ahah

Good question! Some of them I did plan, like Peter studied business. Dorcas became a vet, and honestly I have no idea what the educational training is needed for that, but she studied whatever she needed to 😭 James, (I hope I never said what he studied in the fic and I’m not contradicting myself) studied something he didn’t actually want to do, business or law or something that would help with his family business but ofc he dropped out and became an author (eventually). Remus was definitely literature or English, I like to think of him becoming a librarian, but either way he’d definitely go on to get a PhD. Sirius studied art/art history, mostly because he knew his parents would hate it, but went on to work in an art gallery, maybe own one eventually. I like to imagine him having a midlife crisis and deciding randomly to become a tattoo artist because he got too bored with the gallery. Emmeline is a digital marketing girly for sure. Evan?? Honestly I’m not sure about him, I’m open for suggestions about what he seems like he would have studied and done with his life.

Anyway!! Sorry, this got long, but I have a lot of thoughts about what happened after ppp. I really felt it was so important to put the characters to rest and leave them be after i finished ppp, but they never really left my mind and it’s been like 7 months, so I have a lot of thoughts about what their lives and struggles looked like after the fic. Like James becoming an author? What he did after dropping out of school, and how he got there? How reg and James’ relationship worked? Dorcas’ relationship with Emma and how she regrew a friendship with Marlene after everything. There are THOUGHTS I could go on about.

[strayheartless]

ADHD GENS HCS PLSS

Hmmmmm

Leg bouncing. So much leg bouncing. To the point where he rattles the table. Angeal has grabbed his knee many times to make him stop.

Extreme task avoidance. Like it’s ridiculous. He would dearly love to be on time with his reports, alas he will do anything but while berating himself the entire time.

He’s messy. GODDESS is he messy. And what’s worse is that he can’t concentrate in the mess. He’s in a perpetual cycle of not being able to function, which leads to irritation, which leads to lashing out, which leads to overwhelm. Eventually Genesis will simple haul up in bed and cry because everything’s stressing him out.

Genesis fiddles with his earring like it’s a stim toy. He also taps the spine of his copy of LOVELESS against his leg subconsciously.

Makes popping sounds with his lips when he’s thinking.

The ADHD rage is strong in this one. Zack slurps? “Can you NOT?!” Angeal interrupts him mid moogle deep dive? “Get the FUCK away from me before I incinerate you!” Sephiroth turns on the overhead light? He’s THIS close to decking the demon of Wuti.

Frequently forgets to call Angeal while on mission. He’ll be told “let me know when you arrive so i know your okay.” And then won’t. The amount of times Gen has gotten home only to get lectured at that Angeal thought he was dead, and clearly he was too arrogant -and pigheaded to consider his friends.

Speaking of which. Rejection sensitivity. This presents itself in two main ways. One: Gen can’t take criticism he didn’t ask for. If someone (like Sephiroth or Angeal for instance) points out a flaw in his technique or his plan, or sends him back a report with corrections after proof reading he immediately shuts down and won’t listen. It’s like someone’s stuffed his frontal lobe with cotton. Two: if you yell at him he goes quiet and will think about it for days. He obsesses over small perceived rejections a lot.

If he likes you he won’t shut up. Be honoured he doesn’t like a lot of people.

If the vibes are off for Gen then they’re not doing it. Angeal and Sephiroth have learned not to question it. It’s saved their skin far more than they care to admit.

Needs validation a lot.

Midnight cleaning is unfortunately the only time he gets things done.

Manic episodes where he can’t sit still and ends up crashing randomly.

Not as sensitive to sound as Zack is but certain things like white noise emitters and certain genres of music make him want to tear his ears off.

No temperature regulation. He’s either too hot or too cold, both in excess never a happy medium.

His parents used to call him Lazy all the time because he had the potential of a child prodigy. After inventing pasteurisation/ apple juice Genesis struggled to focus on anything until he hyper fixated on becoming a SOLDIER, and then on LOVELESS. He got all the way to finishing his Masters in Classic literature and then didn’t continue to his PHD because he lost the dopamine. His longest running dopamine spike has been Sephiroth… and we all know how that ended.

Let me know if you want something g more specific ❤️❤️❤️

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

sorry to message but i just wanted to yell because I saw a post and yOU’RE THE AUTHOR OF FALLOUT FROM THE FADE ???? oh my goodness it’s my favourite fic ive read it SO many times.

i left a comment on ao3 last night because i finished reading it again and i just genuinely hope one day you finish it (i understand you have much going on i am just greedy).

but yes thank you so much for creating it, fenris and hawke are everything to me and this fic is my canon no matter what happens in veilguard. 💜

hahaha HELLO yes that is indeed I... I guess i do owe a little bit of an explanation here since its been uh... like 4 years since I last updated, yeah :| But it still makes me so happy that even after so long people still enjoy my little pile of suffering and yearning!

I don't know how many people who used to follow it are still on tumblr (I think a lot of people i used to write with/who would comment have deleted their tumblrs and AO3 accounts in the intervening years alas) but i do I owe anyone remaining a little context I guess lol. Long story made short is like very shortly after my last update i got broken up with unexpectedly from my 4 year relationship, and went into a bit of a spiral about it. I didn't fully stop writing at this point (though I think nothing I wrote in that like... year or more ended up posted anywhere), but I did realize that when I went to work on my ongoing stuff I was in a place where I was like... only wanting to write about anger/losing relationships rather than healing ones. And that part of me wanted to change some of the things I had planned for the following parts and ending of Fallout From the Fade. And so I decided to take a step back from it for a while to see if I actually wanted to make those changes when I was less bitter or if I wanted to follow my original plan.

And that took me about a year, emotionally. However by then I had actually left my prior job (where I spent a lot of time hiking/camping in the wilderness of Utah with no internet, and I used that time for writing), and started graduate school courses. Aaaannnd grad school has been slowly eating my life since. I've only posted I think one other fanfic since then, and it was a very short prose-poem one shot. Another contributing factor was my gaming tech was too old to actually play Trespasser when it came out, and by the time I got a laptop that could handle it, I had to replay the whole game but I was working full time, etc... and i felt really disconnected from the DA fandom since I couldn't read all the new fic/understand all the lore deep dive posts/experience it with everyone else simultaneously. Oh yeah and I work a second job as a professional mermaid in varying degrees of intensity depending on the season/oportunties available haha.

All that being said. I actually have written more of FFtF in the last 2 years. But like I said in the other post I made kinda recently, the long gaps between my later updates (vs the ones I was doing way more regularly in 2016-2018) had me rethink the approach I was using to write and post it, which was a chapter at a time. It felt like stringing people along in kind of a mean way to dump a chapter and then vanish for another year, and I knew I couldn't promise consistency while doing a masters/PhD program. So I've been kind of fiddling away at it slowly still, both actual writing of following chapters, and some substantial firming up/drafting sections in my outline to get to the eventual ending and ensure it's more cohesive than a lot of my slapdash chapters. But! Idk! I do also def work slower without the fun of having an audience, and miss that. and I never actually asked of the people who are left and still wanna read more of it, if they'd rather just get a chapter every 6 months or so as I scrounge it out. If you are one of those people and have an opinion def let me know.

I will say, the imminent presence of Veilguard does have me more inspired and creative again, and some of that has been going to Fallout. Especially since I'm no longer watching the videos/gameplay bioware is putting out since they have SOOO many spoilers and I wanna go into the game at least semi blind, so my creative energy has to go towards my personal stuff rather than joining everyone else in speculation and hype now. I'm definitely not promising I will have it close to finished by October when Veilguard releases, because I'm still in grad school and the next months are busy for me in terms of mermaid work too, but I am hoping I can make some good chunks of progress between now and then. But then if I say that and can't follow through after all I also don't wanna let people down.

Anyway yeah, it's sort of a lot of conflicting thoughts. But I'm still rotating Hawke and Fenris and this fic in my mind even these years later... which for me is honestly pretty normal. I mean I have whole original novels/worldbuilding ideas/etc that I've worked on for 10-15 years in my own time haha, I've been writing fiction for fun since I was like 10, so I think I also just think of stories/writing across a bigger timeline than people who start writing with fanfiction (which is MUCH faster paced) than original fiction. The difference of course is no one sees my original stuff so there's no one to care if i take 2 years between chunks of progress. SO I guess what I am trying to say is, yes definitely it is not abandoned, I am plodding away at it bit by bit, I also hope I can finish it one day!!!! that is within this decade i hope! whether or not anyone else is left to read it but me haha

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Hi, I know I've sent you a lot of asks recently but I am about to start a gap year for my mental health because I was struggling to attend lectures and exams and things when studying Earth Science (with a focus on palaeobiology in future years) at uni (I am hoping to eventually get a PhD and study dinosaurs professionally). So I'm here to ask.

When I go back to uni next year, do you have tips on managing anxiety so I can effectively attend lectures and study.

Anything I can do in my time outside Academia to make sure I keep my skills up and further my studies in dinosaur palaeontology.

I figured I might gets some useful advice from someone in the field I plan to go into, and if you can't answer my questions can you point me to someone I can.

Thanks for your time

Hooooo boy I feel you on this. Anxiety has been one of my major problems in this field. I have a lot of trauma and insecurity, and it's affected my work a lot.

the biggest things I have in terms of advice for managing mental health issues in academia:

dedicating your life to studying a single topic (or single group of topics) so in depth for so little money is patently ridiculous in our current society. So most people around you are also mentally ill in some form - neurodivergency in academia is extremely high, and anxiety is just openly talked about on the regular. So you're NOT alone. That helps some people, at least.

This is not a race. There is no race. However long it takes you to finish school is however long it takes. Better to pace yourself and manage your mental health than to try and rush or push yourself and worsen said mental health.

Grades legitimately do not matter at the end of the day. Even for grad school. Like, flunking is bad, and everything; but if you can show you understand things or do research, you still can go to grad school. At least in the states.

Nobody's perfect, and that includes scientists. So you'll make mistakes. And that's okay. Everyone makes mistakes, myself included. The point isn't avoiding mistakes, it's learning from them.

People are significantly more preoccupied with themselves and how other people see them than they are with other people. So when you feel like people are judging you, odds are, they are not - you're just judging yourself. So feeling more comfortable in front of others and sharing your work begins with feeling more comfortable with yourself

Regularly engage with things that help your mental health. For some folks that's therapy. For some others, that's spirituality. For yet others, that's social interaction. The list goes on. I'm not going to prescribe for you a particular treatment, just recommend that you do something outside of school to help you

Contact the disability office of your school. They rarely can help - I know from experience - but they can sometimes, so it's worth a shot

Have hobbies outside of school. I know it looks like I spend all my time blogging about dinosaurs and thinking about paleontology, but I have other hobbies and interests. Heck, even bad TV can help, something that doesn't make you think too much. I'm rewatching how I met your mother because I just need something stupid to watch. Such escapes are necessary for people in academia

Those are the big things. I also recommend reaching out to people at your particular institution

In terms of keeping up with things when you're on break, I'd recommend reading papers as much as you can, keeping up with the news, and think about paleontology when you feel up for it - try to come up with questions you can research, things like that

I hope that helps

[thetypedwriter]

Babel Book Review

Babel Book Review by R.F. Kuang

This book was so incredibly impressive in multiple ways. I was blown away by Kuang’s sheer amount of research in terms of history, etymology, linguistics, and sociology. There were so many aspects of this novel that required her to dig deeper into subjects and Babel is an incredible display of her hard work and effort (and PHD’s). 

Babel tells the story of a young boy who is taken from his home in Canton and trained by Professor Lovell in England. Given a new name, Robin Swift, the best tutors, and a strict schedule that dominates his childhood, Robin is forced to forget his home and dead family in order to assimilate into White British society, a society that sees him as foreign and less than human, even as they rely on his Cantonese in order to power their city. 

Blending realistic, brutal history of the British empire—bloody politics and colonialism included—with the magical element of silver bars and silver-working, Kuang creates a beautiful blend of accuracy and the fantastic. In this world she’s created, silver working is birthed through what is lost in translation, requiring different languages and people who deeply understand it. 

The effects of this translation are magical bars that can be imbued with a variety of purposes like making carts go faster, ships sail smoother, and teapots stay hot—only if you can afford it, of course. 

Robin’s childhood is stained with memories of Professor Lovell’s cold shoulder, violent temper, and reticence to admit that Robin is actually his son. With Lovell looming over him, Robin is relieved when he’s old enough to attend Oxford as a Babbler, a revered translator. 

A good portion of the book details Robin’s stay at Oxford, including his studies with his other cohort members: Ramy, Victoire, and Letty. 

I could argue that this section was a bit long, where we have chapters upon chapters of Robin attending classes, dreaded school functions, mundane translation work, or spending time with one of his friends but overall, I enjoyed it. 

This is where Kuang focuses a lot of energy and pages to linguistics, building her world and magic system of silver bars, and developing the relationships between Robin and the others. These chapters are also steeped in history, with several of them almost coming across like a textbook. 

Again, if this sounds boring, it wasn’t. I found the historical recounting of the British empire a fascinating subject when used in conjunction with the silver bars and Robin’s eventual epiphany of his own situation and latent childhood cruelty. 

Some much needed spice came in the form of Griffin and the Hermes Society. Griffin, it turns out, is Robin’s half-older brother and also an unnamed heir of Professor Lovell. 

He is a part of a rebel organization whose purpose is to destroy Babel, stop the pillaging of other languages for Britain’s greed and pleasure, and eventually, to change the course of history by dismantling war plans between China and England. 

I could go on and on by summarizing the rest of the book (which would contain massive spoilers), but the ending focuses on Robin and his friends going to Canton themselves, witnessing the British trying to get the Chinese addicted to opium, a harsh death that leads Robin and his cohort to join the Hermes society, and then a fight against the empire itself as Robin and his rag-tag survivors destroy Babel within in order to bring Britain to its knees and leave Canton alone for good. 

The plot of this book itself was solid. I don’t say fantastic because there was never at any point where I was truly shocked or blown away by a surprise twist or revelation. The characters you think will die, do die, and the characters that seem suspicious of betrayal, do in fact betray others. 

This would be a criticism of obvious expectations, but I don’t think astonishing was what Kuang was going for. I think she was going for more of a streamlined story in which, yes, the white girl does feel slighted and must take action in order to save herself.

 I did like the occasional separate POV’s that would explain a character’s backstory and motivation, but in general, Kuang was trying to tell a realistic story and she did, including adding historical footnotes, remarks on translation, and word definitions that I found fascinating, if a bit obtuse. 

Setting wise, Oxford was brilliant. You can tell that Kuang is half in love with Oxford, which makes for very pleasurable reading. As I studied abroad there myself, it was very nostalgic and lovely to read about its cobblestone streets and spires glinting in the moonlight. 

My biggest gripe with the book are its characters. They’re not bad, not by any stretch of 

the imagination, but none of them felt very fleshed out either. The only character I found myself really understanding and relating to was Robin, as we spend the entire book in his head. I found Robin to be a sweet, tortured soul who took us on a riveting journey of self-discovery and eventual, brutal revolution. 

All the remaining characters in the book were fine, but I never felt like I knew them on any grounds. It annoyed me when Kuang would have a paragraph or two every other chapter discussing how much Robin loved his cohort members and list off random things about them, like how Victoire preferred her tea or how Ramy acted in the morning. These idiosyncrasies should have been shown to me, not told. 

The book would have been at least a third longer if Kuang had truly tried to develop the characters naturally in a way where their connections felt believable and organic, so I understand why she didn’t, but it comes at the cost of having shallow characters with little depth and minimal attachments to the reader. When several characters died, I didn’t bat an eye. 

I teared up slightly when Robin was miserable in prison, but the deaths of others? Not a blink. 

While I understand that Kuang’s focus was more on the history, sociology, and linguistics, as I mentioned at the beginning of this review, by shafting the characters, it does make this a good book rather than an exceptional one. 

For me, a very character-driven reader, no matter how stunning the research and backdrop of your novel, if you don’t have strong characters to pull the reader through, it will never amount to a book I would consider great. 

However, that being said, I really enjoyed this book for what it was and the information it contained, even though we never learned Robin Swift’s real name. It was a very different read than the novels I’ve been ingesting lately, coming across as refreshing and informative. 

I really enjoyed the book, despite not having attachments to characters, because of all that I learned and the lens of history it offered. 

Recommendation: If you like history, revolution, languages, and magic, this is your book. If you wanted a different perspective on the fall of the British empire mixed in with fantastical silver bars, you will find nothing more polished or better explained than Babel. If history bores you, the world and characters will not be enough to pull you through to the end. But as a lover of history and different perspectives, I bolted down Babel and cherished how much I learned in the process. 

“Language was always the companion of the empire, and as such, together they begin, grow, and flourish. And later, together, they fall.” —Antonio De Nebrija 

Score: 7/10

[icaruskeyartist]

Okay more thoughts. I'm still at work so my doodles are too shit to share but

Y/N is a PhD dropout after getting a deadly car accident they only survived due to the timely intervention of a nurse who had been driving home when he witnessed the crash.

Y/N then spent the next three years getting surgeries, physical therapy, going in and out of the hospital as their friends and family slowly dropped off the radar, unable to cope with the amount of trauma that came with caring for Y/N.

Y/N eventually got to the point where they are mostly mobile, using arm crutches or a wheelchair depending on the day, and they decided before returning to academia to test the waters with some low level work. Get used to people again, you know?

They put an application in at Fazbear Entertainment and when the brainwashed Vanny sees their pedigree, she uses the same network that got her in as a security guard to get the woefully unqualified Y/N in as a service engineer. Any pushback is ignored.

Vanny has plans to use Y/N's thesis work to her own ends.

Y/N has serious brain trauma from the crash. It has led to their emotions being significantly muted and no longer speaking. Whether it's by choice or a part of the physical/mental trauma from the accident, they do not say.

Y/N meets Sun and Moon when they come down for regular maintenance. Y/N is the one to (imperfectly) infect the DCA.

Y/N confounds infected Moon because they have no overt displays of fear when he attacks and has, on multiple occasions, used their crutches or whatever they have on hand to hit Moon and run away.

I am. Actually very excited? This is my first original y/n and DCA AU.

idk what to call it.

[gabessquishytum]

oh i just had a dream/hob/calliope omegaverse idea and i need to share. so. dream and calliope are trying to have a baby (and this is maybe not a good thing! because they don't quite fit together, they're too intense with each other in the wrong ways, but on some level they're both hoping a baby will give them a place to direct their attention where it won't chafe the other, because they love each other and want their marriage to work, they really do). maybe female alphas have low to no fertility when it comes to carrying a child, maybe it's something else, but whatever the reason, they can't seem to get pregnant.

hob, meanwhile, is an unmated (or widowed) omega, close to finishing his phd but increasingly concerned about whether he'll manage before he burns through his savings entirely. he meets death out at a pub one evening, somehow the conversation turns to children, she happens to mention her brother and his wife are struggling to conceive. hob jokingly (but also not joking at all) says that he could be a surrogate, it's not like he's planning on using his womb anytime soon. maybe that would fix some of his money troubles.

he was decently drunk by that point, and he doesn't actually remember giving death his phone number... but he wakes up the next morning to a text asking if he'd be willing to meet her brother and his wife for lunch some time. no pressure, but they'd like to meet him -- if they get along and he'd be interested in actually being their surrogate, they'd take good care of him through the pregnancy and for a while after.

so obviously, they meet, they hit it off. they go on dates in between sorting out the surrogacy arrangement and moving hob into their house. they fuck him pregnant, of course -- both of them fuck him every night so either one of them could be the sire -- but they dote on him during the days as well. calliope helps him organize his thoughts for his phd thesis. dream distracts him when he's spiralling into frustration by pulling him into a debate on whatever comes to mind.

by the time hob's good and bred, dream and calliope are already getting along worlds better, because they have their sweet little omega to pour their devotion into. they absolutely adore him. and they're so, so excited to raise their pup with him.

-🐈‍⬛

Oh this!!! Is amazing!!!! It's already just perfect but I will add a few thoughts of my own <33

- Maybe Hob has already had Robyn (but he tragically passed away with Eleanor in an accident) so he knows for sure that he can safely carry a pup. He's the perfect surrogate, basically. And although nothing will ever replace Robyn, he wants to give the gift of a happy family to Dream and Calliope. He can tell that there's tension, but they're good people and Hob wants to help them. He firmly tells himself that he won't fall in love with them, he'll just be a friend and a fun uncle for the baby.

- As soon as he moves in with them Hob knows he's fucked (he's literally fucked, 3 times per day at least, but he expected that). He loves Dream and Calliope, together and as individuals. They're stubborn and silly and they get in the most ridiculous fights, but basically they're warm and gentle and in love with each other. Hob yearns. A lot. And enjoys living in their very expensive house and eating food from the posh farmer's market.

- Hob is pregnant, yay! And Dream and Calliope are so good to him. They literally dote on him 24/7, he's sleeping in their bed because he needs to feel them close by and they don't complain at all. He gets amazing massages from Dream, Calliope sings to him and brushes his hair. They still fuck him, which he wasn't expecting but God he needs it because the horniness is hitting different. He has to keep reminding himself that all of this is for the baby, not really for him. He won't get to keep any of this love and devotion.

- Calliope works out eventually why Hob is a little sad sometimes and she has to sit him down and explain that she and Dream consider him as their omega now??? If he'll accept them??? They just never mentioned it because alphas are dumb about communicating sometimes. After the baby comes they want to claim Hob for real and marry him. And Hob ends up crying in Dream’s arms while Calliope covers him in kisses.

- Fastforward a bit, and Hob is obsessed with his alphas (even though they can be SO stupid) and his newborn pup, and he has his PhD now!! Maybe they fuck pup number 2 into him after his graduation ceremony. Whatever happens, Dream and Calliope are a proper team, and Hob is always going to be there to set them on the right path. They're stuck with him now <3

[sweetandglovelyart]

A little art/comic announcement: While Knightfall in Dream Land is still in progress and I’m still working on that I’ve also started plotting out the storylines for both the Daroach backstory comic and the Susie redemption arc comic that I want to do.

Before I started drawing Knightfall in Dream Land I did some very simple pencil sketches with dialogue written on them to get an idea for the direction the story of the comic would go in and get an estimate of how long the finished comic would likely be/how many pages it would likely have. That’s the stage I’m at right now with the Daroach comic and Susie comic. I’m planning to start posting actual pages for both of these comics in January 2025, because I want to get a little bit further into Knightfall in Dream Land first before I launch the new comics. The final length may vary a little bit depending on whether or not I decide to add more stuff or change some of the dialogue I’ve plotted out, but when Knightfall in Dream Land is finished I’m estimating that it’ll be around 34-36 pages, so I’d like to maybe get to page 20 or so before I start posting the new comics. Knowing how slowly I update I’ll probably hit page 20 around late December of this year so January is likely when I’ll be launching the new comics.

Like I’ve mentioned before I’m also still very busy with grad school stuff (I’m working very hard to finish up my PhD in the next year and hopefully get a job lined up if I can so I don’t have to live with my parents when I graduate) so comic updates might get even slower than they already are in the coming months. Thank you to everyone who’s been reading the comic even though I update it really slowly, it really means a lot to me to see people enjoying what I’ve created, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new comics too when I eventually start posting them.

[gradstudentdrone]

When grief hits unexpectedly

I am at a conference this week, where a book that I co-wrote was a finalist for an award and got an honourable mention. The book itself took forever to write, for a variety of different reasons - being on the job market, getting pregnant, new immigration policies, getting pregnant again, COVID...the list goes on. And the review process was rocky in that the Press sent the book to five reviewers, one of whom was somewhat hostile in that the reviewer thought my co-authors and I were being too critical of Canada's immigration policies (lol, ok, bro).

So it was great to get the book recognized and fun to celebrate and have dinner with friends in a cute restaurant.

Yet as I sit here today, trying to plan my day for the conference, I feel a wave of loss hitting me, a wave so torrential that I have to stamp it down - hard - because it would be difficult for me to get on with my day (and get on with my professional obligations during this conference) if I ride the wave out.

Because you know who would've been thrilled about the book getting recognized, who would brag about it to everyone (in an embarrassing dad way)? My dad.

Sometimes, I feel that my dad was too extra. Some examples?

A few months ago, he went to a reunion of his classmates at the University of the Philippines College of Law. One of his classmates held a prominent position in the Department of Labour, and my dad gave him a copy of my other book, on migrant domestic workers' activism. His friend politely thanked him for the book and mentioned that he would read it, and have people in his department read it too.

When said book first received a book contract, and won a 'best dissertation award/First Book Prize,' my dad emailed a newspaper columnist whose writings he followed and told them about my work (!), even sending excerpts. The columnist responded kindly and said they'd look at my work.

When planning my wedding with MOTL, and we were figuring out what giveaways to give, my dad - in utter seriousness - said that we should buy every single guest a copy of the first book I co-edited. I, of course, said no.

In all of these instances, I did what children always do: I shake my head, I internally groan, and I say, "papa, please don't." I felt embarrassed because I didn't want such a huge fuss to be made. In truth, I also wanted my dad to calm down. I'm proud, too, about my accomplishments, but can we not celebrate quietly?

Now, I realize in retrospect that part of my dad's excitement stemmed from seeing me do things that, in a different life, he might have done. You see, in his twenties, my dad received a full scholarship to do his PhD in Political Science at Harvard. Being a kid from the Philippines, this was a big deal. But because of the fact that he was already with my mom, and also because he truly loved the study and practice of law, he opted instead to be a lawyer. This was a career he loved - almost to the exclusion of everything else - and so it was the right choice for him.

But I do think seeing me do graduate work in Political Science, and then eventually become a professor in this field, was exciting for my dad. My dad was a beautiful writer, was an intensely philosophical and thoughtful, and had always told me that one of his dreams for the future was to translate works of Political Theory in Tagalog. So my journey now resembled what his journey might have been.

Anyway, here is a picture of my dad, front and centre, at my book launch last November. Now, more than ever, I am feeling the intensity of my loss.