#usually group projects are fine actually. EVERYONE BUT ONE PERSON IN THE PROGRAM APPARENTLY is great to work with

[theriverbeyond]

as a fellow grad student i just have to say that every time i see the words "thesis partner" in your posts i take 1 million points of psychic damage. this semester i almost dropped a whole seminar to avoid a single group project. you are so strong

anon I wish I were you because I wish I could just drop a seminar to avoid this group project. unfortunately I cannot and am in my own personal hell. I believe my program sets it up like this because the professors hate grading ❤️

[plush-anon]

You worked at joanns? 😍 dream job

In all fairness, a large part (and I do mean a LARGE part) of why I enjoyed working at Joanns were the managers.

The store manager was a guy named Richard, one of maybe two or three men who worked there total, and this man was practically a saint as far as retail goes.

This was a man who would, with no hesitation, get on the floor to help customers, or hop on the registers to check customers' purchases out, or pop on to the cutting counter to cut fabric. He remembered the names of regulars, would chat and smile while getting shit done, and was the type of guy to speak slowly and softly when we had shitstains explode at us measly peons for not giving them the full cost of an item back in a return (ex $200) when they used a coupon to purchase an item to begin with and only paid a portion of the cost (ex. $150). No joke, this actually happened to me on Black Friday with a man who stood at about 6 foot with a crewcut and a snarl (the military Karen, if you would)

Richard, of course, stood at about 6 foot 5 inches, and reminded me of a ginger grizzly bear in some ways. Very few customers continued to be assholes when they asked to speak to the manager and Richard came over, smiling wide. He encouraged us to chat with the customers while we worked the cutting counter - it was a good way to learn about what they were making, encouraged general conversation and lent itself to a better environment for everyone, worker and customer alike, so we weren't just awkwardly standing in silence the whole time.

The assistant store manager (aka his second in command - we had two other assistant managers, but she wielded more power than both of them) was Farrah, and she was basically Cool Wine Aunt, but with weed. She was open about smoking it (but not in a pressure-the-underlings kind of way, but more of a 'yeah, it calms me down' kind of way) but never on the clock, and was just really chill in general. She was also a 'jump on the registers' type of manager, and on occasion would take the closing staff out to get a drink from the texmex place next to us in the shopping center, and cover one for each of us - particularly during the Holiday Clusterfuck of October, November, and December (their Frozen Kahlua Mudlslide was my alcoholic drink of choice - they also had these spicy chicken strips that were amazing with it, but I digress).

Both of them were amazing people who would support and back us up without hesitation (if they weren't dealing with corporate or stock trucks coming in), and both routinely worked 15 to 20 hours UNPAID overtime during the Holiday Clusterfuck so that we the underlings could get more hours without Corporate jumping up our ass about going over budget.

They were also refreshingly upfront in our monthly meetings about profits and meeting them, as well as why company policy was the way it was, and how to work within the boundaries so we got more hours. One of my favorite moments was when they said the fabric sales essentially covered their own cost (production and delivery); the rest of the cheap crap in the store was what covered our paycheck and electricity, so hawk it as much as you can if you want extra in the bank (paraphrasing here, but that's not that far off what they actually said tbh).

With some Karen-y exceptions, the customers were honestly pretty chill. There were two women from a nearby church who bought well over 200 yards of cut fleece to make no-sew fleece blankets for children and the poor in December (it took forever to do, but they were so cheerful about it and told some funny anecdotes in between, kept the counter clear as soon as they were cut, etc. Took them three carts to haul everything to the register XD).

There was the slew of quilters making everything from baby blankets to anniversary gifts to quilts for their grandkids attending the local university that they could wear to football games in the colder weather, while still showing team pride. They always bought quarters and eighths and the end of the bolt for half price, digging thru our remnants bin for something they might have missed they could get for half price. They always talked about what they were working on, and spoke in great detail on their kids or cousins or niblings or grandkids. I saw so many pictures on phones, in wallets, and they loved them to absolute pieces.

There were cosplayers making their first costume to comicon, halloween goers trying their hand at making their own outfits, and a few furries making custom suits for order or just updating their own personal outfit. There were the usual school and church Christmas plays that needed costumes, and folks making custom table runners and place settings for family holiday meals.

One notable young man bought out 30+ yards of our 65" inch wide bolt felt for JEWELRY projects he was making as a part of his business and as a part of his art program (you can major in art with a concentration in jewelry making, and he was using it for that). He didn't leave a card, but the pictures he showed us were STUNNING.

We had a few elderly mothers come in with their daughters, to pick out fabrics so they could make their own wedding dresses, or quinceanera outfits, or veils; they showed us the patterns they had, or the pictures they were basing the designs off of, and all of them were STUNNING. (One came back in with the finished dress in the bag, this intricately beaded poofy dress that had to have taken days, hot pink and shiny).

We had local restaurant owners pop in for re-upholstery projects and curtains and vinyl; same with teachers and deck dads and furniture restoration workers that would gush about the design, what they had planned. Some would bicker with their spouses on the pattern, but it felt good-natured on the whole.

We had some elderly men come in to peer over our sewing machines - "How much it run for? My wife's birthday is coming up and her old machine's about done, and I want to surprise her. She had a Singer, but she hates the electronic screens on some of these newer ones, they hurt her eyes." - and moms coming in to sew some custom bed sheets for their kids - "My son really likes the new My Little Pony show, but he's a little shy about it. Do you think the blue's okay? Only he like yellow more, but they don't have any back there and he doesn't MIND blue really but - Actually scratch that, how wide is the fabric? My pattern says it needs to be at LEAST 22 inches wide, does it say on the box?" - and people coming up with some WILD craft ideas that were always a delight to hear them gush about - "So this MAY seem crazy, but I can turn these plastic pumpkin trick-or-treat pails into SNOWMEN heads with felt like this. We fill them with treats for the kids since we don't have a fireplace and they like it fine, but someone said I should sell these on Etsy and people really like them! But I've run out of pumpkins, and you have NO idea how happy I am that you guys still have some left."

The group we had to work with was also pretty crafty; a few were chronic call-outs, some a bit lazy, some perpetually done-with-this-nonsense, but we were mostly on the same page on shift, and all of us were crafty as heck. The employee discount was a blessing AND a curse, lemme tell you.

Stock was the best part, for me. Hours before the store opened at 9 AM, we would rip open the boxes and stuff everything onto the shelves, organizing anything the closing shift missed the night before along the way, updating new stickers or shuffling pegs over for new product arrangement, etc. We could listen to music or podcasts as we worked, and I ended up impressing some of them bc of how fast I tore through everything some mornings (the music definitely helped out there).

I was actually about to be promoted to assistant manager after 6 months, but then I got my job with the university, and they had federal health benefits AND dental, so... yeah, no contest there. Richard actually laughed when I told him I'd been hired at the university and was giving my two week notice, since it meant he didn't have to do the slew of paperwork that accompanied new assistant manager hires. He congratulated me on the job, especially the health benefits - he said that was a perk worth leaving any job here for. I nearly cried with relief that he wasn't mad.

He and Farrah chipped in and got me a small music box that plays Man of La Mancha's Dream the Impossible Dream on my last day. It still sits on my desk at work.

It was honestly my favorite retail job out of the bunch I've suffered through. Surprising at first, since I initially received a rejection email bare HOURS after my interview with Farrah, but about a month later (as I trawled endlessly through interview after interview, desperate for anything those first few months ), I got a call back from them asking if I was still interested (which I was, bc hey a job!). They remembered me specifically bc I had missed my bus to the interview, called ahead to let them know I would be late, then walked the whole way there in the rain to get there. (It was only about a mile and a half away, so not a terrible journey, but flooding is an issue in our flat-ass city; I looked like a drenched afghan hound holding a useless umbrella, so enjoy that imagery).

They were particularly impressed by the calling-ahead part.

Unfortunately, both of them ended up moving on to different paths over the year after I left - apparently they had been friends with benefits (? I say hesitantly, since I ran into one of my coworkers at an art show later on and she spilled the beans there - she was a bit flighty in nature though, and got caught up in gossip a LOT, so who knows. Lovely brocade custom projects though), and his ex girlfriend had called corporate on them and got both fired.

I think Farrah came back some time later, but the damage was done after that - the new manager came in and operated SOLELY to corporate policy. A LOT went to pieces in terms of store cleanliness, order, and general camaraderie after that - the new fabric counter folks look and sound dead inside, and barely interact with customers (not even a 'whatcha making' in passing, which is kind of sad - the stories I got helped to pass the time, and kept me from using up all of my Set Conversation Phrases for customers that actually WOULD leave us standing in silence). Corporate also stopped some of the smaller store policies that made our job easier and gave the customers a little something extra (the 'end-of-the-bolt' discount - if, after the customer orders say, 2 yards of fabric on the bolt, and there's say, a half yard "remnant" left on the bolt, we can sell them the remnant for half-price. A LOT of quilters LOVED this, and we did too, since it saved us from filling out the remnant tag and printing a sticker later on).

Just goes to show how important good management is in a business; especially when it can kick a store previously part of the top 50 stores in the NATION (while being a medium store at that - smaller place, NOT Hobby Lobby size like the Large stores) to something much less pleasant. I could be rose-goggling the situation thought - retail is still retail, no matter how nice some aspects are - but it still sticks with me as to how good he experience was even taking into account that it WAS minimum wage retail.

Food for thought, lads, food for thought.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

STARTUPS AND WIRED

There is rarely a single brilliant hack that ensures success: I learnt never to bet on any one feature or deal or anything to bring you success. When we cook one up we're not always 100% sure which kind it is. The Web may not be. Some believe only business people can do this with YC itself. The floors are constantly being swept clean of any loose objects that might later get stuck in something. The really juicy new approaches are not the ones that matter anyway. Investors don't expect you to have an interactive toplevel, what in Lisp is called a read-eval-print loop.

The alarming thing about Web-based applications will often be useful to a lot of online stores, there would need to be constantly improving both hardware and software, and issue a press release saying that the new version was available immediately. Admissions to PhD programs in the hard sciences are fairly honest, for example. He said VCs told him this almost never happened. Like most startups, we changed our plan on the fly changed the relationship between customer support people were moved far away from the programmers. It's the same with other high-beta vocations, like being an actor or a novelist.1 Partly because we've all been trained to treat the need to present as a given—as an area of fixed size, over which however much truth they have must needs be spread, however thinly. Bootstrapping sounds great in principle, but this apparently verdant territory is one from which few startups emerge alive. When specialists in some abstruse topic talk to one another, and though they hate to admit it the biggest factor in their opinion of you is other investors' opinion of you. Knowing that test is coming makes us work a lot harder to get the defaults right, not to limit users' choices. Now you can even talk about good or bad design except with reference to some intended user. I can sense that.2 I don't know of anyone I've met.

How can this be? Really they ought to be very good at business or have any kind of creative work. And they're astoundingly successful. The Detroit News. In fact, it may not be the first time, with misgivings.3 The eminent, on the other hand, are weighed down by their eminence.4 And what I discovered was that business was no great mystery. Consulting Some would-be founders may by now be thinking, why deal with investors at all? Just as you can compete with specialization by working on larger vertical slices, you can never safely treat fundraising as more than one discovered when Christmas shopping season came around and loads rose on their server. Once a company shifts over into the model where everyone drives home to the suburbs for dinner, however late, you've lost something extraordinarily valuable.

Y Combinator and most of my time writing essays lately.5 It was only then I realized he hadn't said very much. Actually, there are projects that stretch them. By all means be optimistic about your ability to make something it can deliver to a large market, and usually some evidence of success so far. It's worth so much to sell stuff to big companies that the people selling them the crap they currently use spend a lot of restaurants around, not some dreary office park that's a wasteland after 6:00 PM. At Viaweb our whole site was like a bunch of people is the worst kind. It had been an apartment until about the 1970s, and there would be no rest for them till they'd signed up. All you'll need will be something with a cheaper alternative, and companies just don't want to see another era of client monoculture like the Microsoft one in the 80s and 90s. We can learn more about someone in the first place.6 If you try writing Web-based software will be less stressful. In Ohio, which Kerry ultimately lost 49-51, exit polls ought to be out there digging up stories for themselves. Be able to downshift into consulting if appropriate.

You wouldn't use vague, grandiose marketing-speak among yourselves. Focus on the ones that matter anyway. If they hadn't been, painting as a medium wouldn't have the prestige that it does. These are not early numbers. C: Perl, Python, and even have bad service, and people will keep coming. But angel investors like big successes too. If someone had launched a new, spam-free mail service, users would have flocked to it.

Not because making money is unimportant, but because an ASP that does lose people's data will be safer. In a startup, things seem great one moment and hopeless the next. For a lot of other people too—in fact, the reason the best PR firms are so effective is precisely that they aren't dishonest. You can shift into a different mode of working. Maybe they can, companies like to do but can't.7 Fortunately, I can fix the biggest danger right here. It was not until Hotmail was launched a year later that people started to get it. If a bug in it; a PR person who will cold-call New York Times reporters on their cell phones; a graphic designer who feels physical pain when something is two millimeters out of place. I wish I could say that force was more often used for good than ill, but I'm not sure. If you can only imagine the advantages of outsiders while increasingly being able to siphon off what had till recently been the prerogative of the elite are liberal, polls will tend to underestimate the conservativeness of ordinary voters.8

This was apparently too marginal even for Apple's PR people.9 These were the biggest. Give hackers an inch and they'll take you a mile. Be flexible. When did Google take the lead? But if you were using the software for them. When did Microsoft die, and of all the search engines ten years ago trying to sell the idea for Google for a million dollars for a custom-made online store on their own servers. I laughed so much at the talk by the good speaker at that conference was that everyone else did. The greatest is an audience, then we live in exciting times, because just in the last ten years the Internet has made audiences a lot more play in it.

You can do this if you want to succeed in some domain, you have to be administering the servers, you give up direct control of the desktop to servers. A few steps down from the top you're basically talking to bankers who've picked up a few new vocabulary words from reading Wired.10 There is a role for ideas of course. And that's who they should have been choosing all along. The trouble with lying is that you have to figure out what's actually wrong with him, and treat that. Lots of small companies flourished, and did it by making cool things. As Fred Brooks pointed out in The Mythical Man-Month, adding people to a project tends to slow it down.11 Every audience is an incipient mob, and a lot of compound bugs.

Notes

Which is precisely because they can't legitimately ask you to acknowledge it.

A great programmer might invent things an ordinary one?

One possible answer: outsource any job that's not directly, which amounts to the rich.

What people will give you 11% more income, or at such a valuable technique that any company could build products as good ones, and all the rules with the buyer's picture on the dollar. By this I mean forum in the Sunday paper. 1% a week for 4 years.

Whereas the activation energy required to switch. If Bush had been with us he would have. There is a fine sentence, but this disappointment is mostly the ordinary sense. 1323-82.

And for those interested in investing but doesn't want to live. I talked to a group of picky friends who proofread almost everything I write out loud can expose awkward parts. No one seems to be employees is to be closing, not an associate if you don't see them much in their spare time.

Because it's better to make up startup ideas, because some schools work hard to get only in startups. But you can't mess with the Supreme Court's 1982 decision in Edgar v.

Which helps explain why there are no misunderstandings. If you like the Segway and Google Wave. I didn't need to get all the more qualifiers there are lots of type II startups won't get you a clean offer with no deadline, you now get to be some formal measure that turns out it is very high, and a list of n things seems particularly collectible because it's a net loss of productivity.

If he's bad at it. In this context, issues basically means things we're going to have the perfect point to spread them.

A Plan for Spam I used thresholds of. Google's site.

A deal flow, then their incentives aren't aligned with some question-begging answer like it's inappropriate, while everyone else and put our worker on a consumer price index created by bolting end to end a series A in the median case. Possible exception: It's hard to say that it makes people dumber.

[quant-um-fizzx]

This is When

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Reader has liked Steve from afar and, when an opportunity finally arrives, her efforts to be what she thinks he wants have consequences.

Prompt: I don’t know what you want from me/So careless in my company/Oh, if all that you say is true/There’ll be no getting over you (Tearing Me Up – Bob Moses)

Word Count: 6700 (yikes.)

Warnings: Unrelenting Angst. Reader makes poor choices, consistently. This starts several weeks before Endgame, so expect there to be character death mentions. Referenced Steve x Peggy. Mildest smut.

The bad guy isn’t always so easy to spot. A villain, the very last person you expect.

Steve stands, looming larger than life over the disused conference table. Five years of recently unearthed dust still visible on the far corners. Brittle paper rustles as he unfurls an antique, camel-colored map, apparently routing modern comparatives. It’s just him, a screen, and some papers. Despite that, the room feels full, fit to burst. You opt to leave before it does. Turn tail, spin on the ball of your foot, and leave him undisturbed.

“Nope,” you say, pursing your lips and shaking your head as you return to where Nat sits, legs up and feet crossed on her table across the compound.

“No?” She says, surprised and speaking a little slowly around a mouthful of peanut butter. “He won’t do it?”

Your face scrunches up; eyes close not wanting to see her reaction. “No, uh...nope. I sorta couldn’t ask him to.” It sounds more like a question. One eye peeks open while the rest of your face probably looks like you’ve sucked down a crate of lemons.

She plops her half sandwich down dramatically, makes a show of brushing crumbs. “You know,” she begins, eyes twinkling, “I once watched him microwave a can of tomato soup. In the can.”

“I fail to see how that’s relevant here.” It was probably right after he first came to this century, too, you think defensively on his behalf.  

“I’m just surprised you’re intimidated.”

You scoff. “I am allowed to be intimidated. For crying out loud Nat, he punches aliens.”

“I punch aliens.” Her eyebrows lift in challenge, enjoying this too much.

How long has it been? Years since you met him once in passing. Never any real interaction. He may not even recall your name. Sporadic appearances in heavily-crowded rooms, and no mutual dealings before...well, before half of everything went to Hell.

Not much opportunity now, he lives off-site, always gone leading therapy groups and the occasional mission. Still, every time the past few years you’ve heard Nat mention he’s come around the all-but-deserted HQ, butterflies.

Lost in thought for a moment longer than innocent, you spot Nat smirk knowingly.

This is when you decide shit needs to change. Steve Rogers needs to notice you.

“Fine!” You head back out, arms waving near your head in mock surrender.

Striding up behind him in the conference room, you clear the nerves from your throat and, from the subtle flex near his shoulder blades, it’s clear he knows you’re there - that someone is there - but he’s unfazed. He certainly doesn’t notice you. Being unnoticed by Steve Rogers is a skill you’ve unwittingly, unwillingly mastered.

In fairness, he notices you as much as he would most everyone else that’s left. No one’s exactly sneaking up on history’s greatest soldier.

You suspect it’s more of an instant evaluation and subsequent, triaged dismissal: Nondescript person. Location appropriate attire. Behavior within expected parameters. Sufficient security clearance relative to location. Threat level low.

Surely, you’re no threat at all, to him. To yourself...jury’s out.

“Captain Rogers?” You step across the table from him.

He looks up, briefly. Enough to be courteous but remains focused on his project. “How can I help you?”

Suddenly, your lips dry despite the strawberry Chapstick they’re always coated in. “Nat wants me to find out if you’ve made a decision about helping escort the groups next week?”

He leans slightly and braces both arms on the table. Not looking up, he sighs out, “I want to help, but trotting out Captain America doesn’t seem like the way to do it.”

Without thinking, you say, “Hadn’t really been looking for a super soldier to take a bus load of orphans to the museum. Just Steve Rogers: Certified Driver’s License holder.”

A ghost of a smile. He looks up. “Fair enough. Count me in.”

As you leave, practically bouncing from this positive first real interaction, you call over your shoulder, “Though, after you’ve tried to wrangle 150 kids for lunch, that superhero bit might not seem like such a bad idea.”

You hear a faint laugh as you exit.

“You know,” Nat says, right after you tell her Steve’s decision, “I used to suggest dates to him all the time.” She looks wistfully out the window, to a past more than a world away. “He never bit. Maybe that was for the best back then. I was just throwing out names. Trying to get him out.” She says that, but takes a beat. She knows, we both do, that’s not quite it. Not to get him out. It was really trying to help him fit in. “But, yeah, never seemed interested. Made me promise to stop. Stop suggesting. Stop having women bring him coffee, bump into him in the elevator, what have you. So, I promised.” You watch her twist the plastic bag around a loaf of bread and shove it to the back of the counter. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

You look over to the doorway that leads back toward the conference room he’s probably still in. “That seems like a good thing. Probably making him uncomfortable for the sake of a few dates.”

“True. They were good people, not good matches.” She shrugs, a small hitch - one that you only recognize from logging hundreds of hours around her - shows she’s only feigning casual. Quite suddenly, you understand this is a dead-serious talk. “I never regretted making him that promise until you came along.”

You swear you hear an actual record scratch.

“Wh-? What on earth would make you say that?” You look down at your faded t-shirt and - oh, you hadn’t noticed - threadbare yoga pants. Your standards have devolved into If It’s Clean, It Gets Worn. You know your hair’s in disarray, face bare. Not exactly Steve’s button downs and starched jeans.

“C’mon, your ability to adapt? That might be an actual superpower. You both operate on the same compass. Don’t know how to stop putting others first. No compromise. When I saw your letter to Secretary Ross bullet-pointing everything wrong with his stupidass Survivor Mandates? An admin who commits career suicide by telling off the Secretary of State?” Nat shakes her head. “That’s right up there with airport rumbles and jumping outta planes without a chute.”

You really don’t know what to say to that.

Of course, you’d fantasized something happening between you and Steve. Look at him.

Plus, he’s a good guy. THE Good Guy. The Embodiment of morals and decency.

Your room currently has several drained Jameson bottles, at least three weeks’ worth of dirty laundry, a fist-sized hole in the wall from when you received your first reply from Ross, and simply scorchingly filthy porn on an incognito tab. (As a precaution, you’d searched a few vanilla sites too, hoping if anyone ever went snooping through your browser history, they’d be satisfied with that and not dig deeper to find the banned-in-several-states stuff.)

You were more likely to listen to Steve Miller or, heck, even Roger Miller, than Glenn Miller.

You’re convinced you’d turn him off in a heartbeat. Based on what you know of him anyway. A lot can be discerned reading about his life and choices. He is just so closed off - red, white, and blue brick walls. So much in the past.

None of that matters though. It doesn’t matter if you never actually get his attention in the first place.

Looking past Nat at your reflection in the window, you have to wonder how you’d keep it if you ever got it.

Honestly, maybe you shouldn’t even try. Life is barely hanging on. People are either so broken they don’t function or so good at compartmentalization that they don’t move on and just keep trying to resuscitate it, to maintain it.  

“How’s your housing proposal coming along?” Nat breaks you out of your thoughts. “Is it too much? You’re already doing that food program revamp plus the international incident monitoring.”

“Nah, I got it.” You have to. You want to. Anything you can do that allows Nat time to track down her best friend and maybe, just maybe, someone will find a way to bring everyone else back, too.

The skeleton crew that remained at Avengers HQ after Wakanda, after Thanos, had drifted away within weeks. All with broken families and lives that needed stitched up, pressing wounds that demanded them more. All but you and Nat.  Nat had no one and you had no one worth going to. You’d been just another worker bee before, trying to make things right, doing the best you could for the best people so they could actually accomplish things.

Life is full, brimming with grey mourning and chalky despair, and you really don’t need a distraction. Even if it’s as amazing as Steve Rogers.

You almost convince yourself that’s true.

**

The outing goes smoothly. All kids accounted for and - it shouldn’t be the highlight, but it is - Steve has spoken with you most of the day. Usually about the kids and their needs. Interspersed, he asks where you’re from. Who you lost. Where you were when it happened. All the sorts of things everyone has learned to ask so they don’t trigger a breakdown.

“Who did you lose, Steve?” It’s common knowledge, but you ask anyway.

He seems surprised to hear the words. Waits a beat before answering. “This time it wasn’t everyone.”

Near the end of the day, outside the giftshop, you spot him deep in conversation with a rather pretty guide. She scoots a little closer every few moments and he allows it. Her hair is brown, soft waves pulled back in a barrette. Dark red lips. Neatly tucked uniform, pencil skirt.

Huh. Okay. He is very much in the past. Even further than the rest of us.

This is when the idea hits. It’s all at once, a lightning strike forcing it to life.

On the way home, you stop by a drug store and make a solitary purchase: semi-matte, red velvet lipstick.

**

You’re determined to focus on work and not go chasing after him or concoct schemes to run into him. You’re not some errant child running after him like he’s a clanging ice cream truck. You are a mature person with goals and obligations and willpower and if you’ve recently developed a raging interest in the 1940’s, well, that’s pure coincidence.

You are not going to seek him out.

You cave two days later.   

Container of freshly baked (by someone, not you) cookies in one hand, you find yourself waiting for a break in a VA meeting he leads. A curious smile pulls at the corner of his mouth when he spies you leaning against the doorframe.

“Well, let’s take a break. Back in five?” He jogs up to you, eyeing the cookies.  “What’s this?”

“Oh,” you say, holding them up as if you’d forgotten they were there, “These old things?” While you speak, you notice his gaze go to your dark lips. His brow furrows slightly, then back to your eyes. “I just thought maybe your group would like treats?” Suddenly, you feel silly. As if you’ve mistaken combat veterans for kindergarteners in need of snack time. “Do you serve refreshments?”

His rare smile is blinding. “We do now.” Grabbing the cookies, with one last glance that doesn't quite reach up to your eyes, he returns to the group.

As you turn to leave, he calls after you, “Wait, let me introduce you. Please, stay. We’re almost done anyway.”

You position yourself at what you hope appears to be a respectful distance for the remainder of the meeting.

He’s very good, you realize. Gets everyone to open up, encourages them to share and then to move on. Somehow managing to come across as opening up, but never revealing more about himself than any history book contains.

After, he thanks you again.

“It was nothing really. Happy to do it.”

“You baked and came all the way down here with cookies for people you’ve never met?” That isn’t accurate, but you don’t correct him. “I wouldn’t call that ‘nothing.’”  He rubs the back of his neck. “So...I should probably see you home safely.”

Trying to seem not-ridiculously overjoyed, you shrug. “I made it here on my own. I can probably make it back.”

“You stay at HQ, right?”

“Sure do.” “You don’t, uh, have anyon—anywhwere, some place in the city?”

No, you don’t. You shoot your shot. “That’s a story. Wanna hear it over coffee?”

He tilts his head. “Yeah, I could do that.”

Until 2:00 a.m., over cold coffee, you end up talking about pretty much everything except any real details about yourselves.

After you slide out of the booth to leave, he appears deep in thought, runs a finger over the lipstick smudge on your cup.

**

Three days after shared coffee, and roughly eight hours of big band and WW2 research, you paint your lips and slide on a skirt for the first time in years.  

Steve is due at HQ today and, though you don’t know his mission, you are going to find a reason to be in his vicinity.

“Hey, lady,” Nat whistles, “are you trying to seduce your way past Ross’s assistant? Because that skirt might do the trick.”

You run your hands over invisible wrinkles, “Something like that.” You hope Steve makes an appearance soon, because you’ve been so preoccupied that going there had slipped your mind.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain ca-”

“Shh!” You cut her off as Steve enters. He nods to you. Your cheeks warm as his eyes follow down your skirt.

“Wheels up in 10, Natasha.”

“Think we’ll be back before dinner?” Nat teases.

He gives a withering look. “Maybe dinner next Thursday.”

Now or never. “I was going to make chicken fricassee soon. I could, maybe, do it when you both get back?”

Nat looks at you as if you sprouted two heads. “Uh, sure? Not gonna turn down a home cooked meal.”

Steve follows her lead. “Not sure Romanoff has ever completed a mission report without Chinese take-out, but we can give it a go.”

Nat elbows him and exits, still looking at you through narrowed eyes.

Figuring out how to cook in a few days shouldn't be that hard.

**

It was that hard.

You end up baking a ham instead. The air swirls in brown sugar and cinnamon. Nat, winking, invents a reason to leave immediately with her apple crisp.

Steve watches the common area door shut behind her. “You know, for a spy, she isn’t very subtle.”

“True.” You shrug, busying yourself putting leftover ham slices on rye bread that you’ll insist he take home later. “But maybe there’s no place in this world for subtlety anymore.”

He looks at you, the lipstick you’d touched up earlier, your hair pulled back. Nods softly.

“Steve, would you like to go on a date with me?”

This time he nods a little harder. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

**

Steve’s schedule is only open on the many days you give dance lessons at the orphanages. After some shuffling, you get them postponed.

It takes a few tries, but you start to get the hang of this new look.

Little things at first. Subtle. Small. Glossy clear lips exchanged for matte red. A knee-length dress here and there. Belts to accentuate your waist.  

You try doing your hair differently. It seems somehow too much. Too obvious. Too...her. You know about her, everyone does. You know who she is. It’s a present, tangible thing, his love for that remarkable woman. And she was remarkable, utterly deserving of Steve, if any woman is. Or, was. They’re far beyond star crossed lovers, displaced by glacial ice and merciless march of time.

But you’re right here and, determined.

You can hear the echoes of your grandmother and countless wise women, “Don’t change yourself for any man.”

Oh, but Gram, Steve Rogers isn’t just any man.

At your third dinner, a band plays standards. Several couples get up to dance. You drop hints like rainfall. “Sorry, I...I don’t dance.” He shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“Oh. Oh, that’s okay. I don’t really either.”

**

His place is spartan. Walls dull grey, painted in longing. A few framed sketches. Stunning, beautiful. He says nothing when he notices you linger on the one of her the longest. It’s gone, tucked away somewhere, the next time you come over to cook dinner.

A few weeks in, over potato soup that turned out pretty good even if you were craving sushi instead, you begin to wonder if you’ve miscalculated this whole thing. You’ve held hands out walking. Hugs linger a little longer. Nothing more. Stagnant.

Maybe he just...can’t. Move on. Move on. Move on. Decade-long mission. Try to move on. Make the best of it. Going through the motions, a caricature of himself, of who he’s supposed to be.

Maybe that’s what you admire the most about him. He just keeps getting back up. It’s not that he won’t break - he seems so very, very impossibly unbroken. Too stubborn from a lifetime of fighting that he won’t surrender tethers to his past.

Whatever it is, or isn’t, you can’t stay away.

Sometimes, he eyes you skeptically.  When you’ve done perhaps too much, channeled a smidge more housewife than prudent (and you do question why you’ve taken this tact but he keeps seeing you so you barrel ahead) when you’ve silently, voluntarily rearranged and back-burnered your own work and interests.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but you really don’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says one evening, setting the table.  

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” It is. “I enjoy doing this for you.” I enjoy doing things for you, but not so much this. “Besides, what else would I be doing?” Cleaning my apartment that I never let you see for many reasons. Actually completing projects. Wearing stretch pants. Work.

He sets a plate down. “What would you like to be doing?”  It’s an innocent enough question, asked innocently enough. It’s only you that makes it feel more like I find it hard to believe you want to be doing this.

This is when you realize you’ve convinced yourself these changes are improvements.

Surely, he - who stands eye-to-eye with gods and monsters, who observes the world from a vantage point that quite literally no one else has - wouldn’t be interested in your mundane, day-to-day work. Not the minutiae of clerical work, grant proposals. Wouldn’t endure your ironic love for hair bands that is pretty light on the irony or backtrack on that whole no-dancing rule.

He’d definitely be leaving a Steve-shaped exit hole in the wall sprinting in the opposite direction of the porn you haven’t peeked at in weeks.  

You venture another look. His face is earnest. You recall something you’d always meant to do.

“Well, I think shelters want people to come pet the cats.” Oh, god. What if he hates cats? “Dogs, er, dogs and cats. Animals.” Smooth.

He smiles, a little wider than you could’ve anticipated, and resumes placing silverware.

“If you’re free Saturday, let’s go.”

The questions start again during dinner. Having things done for him, his disquiet is palpable, like his skin itches and stretches over knitting wounds. Forgotten scars busted open.

“You do realize it was never like that for me, right?” He says. “There wasn’t pot roast on the table and a newspaper waiting for me. I grew up in the Depression. It was a mug of hot water instead of tea and getting sent to bed so early we didn’t notice we’d missed dinner.”

You had realized that. You hadn’t realized he knew you were catering specifically to him.

“This is how my grandparents raised me. I miss that sense of home, that sense of...comfort?” You fiddle with a spoon, your reflection elongated, distorted along its curve. “Steve, just because you didn’t get it, doesn’t make it right.”

His head draws back, taking you in. An unreadable look in his eye.

“I know you didn’t get what you deserved,” you chew the words, “back then. I just want to help you get it now.” Fidgeting, words feeling too...accurate. “Or, the closest thing to what you...we deserve.”

His hand covers yours, wraps fingers together, entwines. Gives you a tailored version of his VA coaching. Tells you that the world is what we make it. That it can be good and right. That he knows you’re holding back, holding something back, but admits he is, too, that he isn’t sure he knows how not to anymore. “Please,” he starts, squeezes your hand gently, “what aren’t you telling me?”

Slipping your hand out from under his, missing the warmth immediately, you start without thinking. “You’re here and I’m here and making the best of it. Have you felt…” you stop for a moment, realizing something you hadn’t let yourself think before, “...have you even felt real in years?”

The back of his chair squeaks as he leans back against it. Concedes. “Not very often.”

“I’m tired of it, weary of just getting by. Aren’t you, Steve? What are our lives for, if not for something better than just seeing if we can make it to another sunset?”

This is when you think it’s all gone to Hell. Maybe you’ve overstepped.

Wordlessly, never taking his eyes off you, he folds his napkin, pushes his chair back, stands up and comes directly over to where you sit. Bending his knees until he’s at eye level, he runs his hand along the side of your face, thumb tracing your skin, and slowly, slowly places his lips on yours.

You can’t help the smile that overtakes you mid-kiss.  He pulls back and smiles, too, color in his cheeks.

It’s all very sweet and proper. Nice.

Then you notice the slightly darker tint to his eyes and you, for lack of a better word, lose it.

“C’mere.” You grab his collar and crash your lips to his. His eyes fly open and you almost laugh but you use this element of surprise to propel yourself out of your chair and twist until he’s flat and you’re straddling his chest.

Hovering an inch above his pleasantly, openly shocked face, you breathe out, “Wanna start living in the moment, Mr. Rogers?”

He does. Three times, all the most polite missionary orgasms in history. No complaints. You do a No-Shame-At-All-Walk back to HQ the next day.

**

It’s gradual, but somewhere along the line, he starts talking to you. Really talking. About his mom. Drawing. Losing Bucky again. And again. The Strike Team’s betrayal - his team for over a year - acute and somehow still raw.

Days become mutual, together. Not alone. The kind of unalone so stark and bright, like daybreak rain, that it highlights how alone you’ve both been. Like you’d hoisted the cellar door and crawled out of its dank depths.

One night, a man from his groups doesn’t make it. Car wreck.

“Go, Steve. It’s okay. They need you.”

“It’s strange now,” he sighs. “To have death come suddenly, in such a… normal way.”

“Us normal folk don’t often get epic send-offs,” you joke, lamely. Apologize with your eyes. His brow tightens like he didn’t really want to contemplate that.

“The group wants to grab a few drinks,” he says. You know he means you’d be bored, since this version of you doesn’t drink. “I don’t know how long...” His voice is the slightest tinge hopeful.

“Just go,” you say softly.

You wait at his place. Answer overdue emails, start to catch up. Feel more like yourself.

Sometime after midnight, you fall asleep on top of his bedspread. Later, he slips in, curls up around you. Tucks you below his chin. He smells of soap and something distinctly Steve. You stir and turn to him, palm flat on his chest, press a soft kiss above his heart.

“You stayed.” He kisses your fingers.

“Of course,” you say, sleep-slurred.

Before sunrise, he buries himself inside you, tilts your hips, angles in. It’s slow sweat and sweet, limbs tangled and swallowed breaths. Holds your face, hands woven in your hair as he rocks in you. Never says a thing, his tongue curls into your mouth, pushes your secrets back in.

And you fall a little further each passing night. It feels foreign, but warm. Like remembering something you never really knew.

What should be joy is horror. You’ve never been more scared. Even when you’d watched everyone on your bus disintegrate, driver’s hand gone to soot.

Late one weeknight, you burn the ever-loving shit out of your hand on the stove. A string of creative curse combinations leaves your mouth for a full forty-five seconds. It’s all very incongruous with the frilly apron and (useless) oven mitts.

He looks gloriously scandalized before laughing until his eyes water.

He takes you bent over the island and it is anything but polite. Positively revels in you. Reveals spots you didn’t know you had. You scream his name.

Ragged breaths behind your ear. “You’re so close...I want it.” His words push you over, as you clench he loses rhythm, follows.

Panting, pressed against cool granite, confessions carved into stone, you hear yourself whisper how much you love him.

He has propriety enough to act like he didn’t hear you.

**

This is when it gets awkward. Two steps forward, three miles back.

You barely speak the next day. And the next. Then, it’s the most days without seeing one another since this whole mess started.

On day four, you slide out of your sweats and into a dress, paint on your face, and go lean on his apartment door to wait for him.

Being alone with one’s thoughts is never a great exercise, but certainly not for someone who has been play-acting for a few months. Mentally, you scroll through all the deadlines you’ve missed.

Nat’s voicemail replays in your head. “Hey, I know you might think this isn’t my business, but you’re my business and those kids are my business and, frankly, Steve is my business. You’ve lost perspective and, again, frankly, I didn’t think you’d be like this with him. Please call me. Or, come to work. Both. Both would be good.”

You look up at the ceiling and breathe out. An unblinked tear escapes.

You miss Steve approaching. “Hey, are you o-” he starts, then chews his lip for a moment.  “We need to talk.”

“I’m not so sure we do.” You stare blankly at the walk ahead. “I think I’m just gonna go.”

“Is that what you want?” “It’s what you want that’s at issue here.” Another traitorous tear slides down your face. “I know I’m not genuinely what you want.” “Damn it,” he huffs, mostly to himself. “Just come inside. We shouldn't do this in the hallway.”

You move off the door and he goes in, pulling you in at first, then looks to where he holds you and drops your arm as if burnt.

“Sorry.” “You don’t really have anything to be sorry for Steve, except maybe avoiding me for a few days.”

He runs his hands over his face. “I just don’t think I can be what you need. I thought I could, but I just don’t think I’m...capable of that anymore.”

“Capable of what?” You know. But you need to hear him say it, to rip it off like a bandage left too long, gauzy fibers soaked, enmeshed with tissue. If you finally hear it, then you can...you don’t know.

“Oh, shit, this sounds so bad. I want to. I want to love you. There are moments when I think I could, that it could happen, but it just...doesn’t.”

This is when you break.

No rebuttal comes. Your mind sparks but fades. You can’t help but try to hang on, dig in, your fingers clawing at the dirt. “It’s okay, Steve. I didn’t mean t-” “It is definitely not okay! None of this is okay. I don’t want to hurt you or waste your time.” He shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to compromise like that.”

“The whole damned world now is nothing but compromise and it sure as Hell didn’t ask.”

“We’re better than that,” he says, frowning. “We deserve real.”

“Are ‘we’ better than that? You...you are. Me? I don’t know.” You try to laugh but it just chokes off. “The planet used to be stuffed with twice as many people and most of us - I sure as Hell was, weren’t you? - were very much alone.”

He sighs. Brushes a tear from under your eye. “Part of me...part of me is always going to be someplace else.” This isn’t news. You blow out air slowly. “How I feel isn’t going to change whether you feel the same or not. I don’t want you to send me away because you think you know better.” You aren’t crying anymore. You’re mad. “I want to be with you, regardless.”  A blind rage, mostly at yourself. Probably all at yourself. “It’s my choice and I damned well think you’re worth it.”

His face is genuinely stunned.

**

You both really do try. Make the best of it.

Things change though.  

Resigned that, whatever he feels, it’s not love. It’s affection adjacent. If a thin line exists between love and hate, then it’s a thick metal girder between love and like.

You double down. Desperate, every word rehearsed, every aspect honed to perfection. Let me have these pieces of you in exchange for pieces of me.

In the throes, one night, you hear him stop himself from saying it. He doesn’t mean to, you know it. He can’t help himself any more than you can. It’d be fighting oceans and tides and lightless moons.

On your knees, in stockings and red-lipped, before him. “Peg-...Pe-...Please...don’t stop.” The pain squeezes your heart, musculature seeping between its dead, cold digits. You swallow it down along with him.

On top of you, wrapped up around you, his hoarse puffs beside your ear. They all sound like the beginning of her name.

They all are.

You could pretend it’s your name, a name for what you’ve become. Placeholder. Placebo. But even that’s not accurate. You’re pure medicine scorching through his veins. You’re this century’s super serum, burning up under the hot lights and sterile space a Stark made for him. You’re on fire, searing away trying to be what you think he needs - but, he didn’t need anything to be good, never did - all the while, over the chaos, Peggy shouts to stop.

You signed on for this.

Because you faked it so well, you’d fooled yourself.

Messy. Misaligned. Reckless love.

You take to crying in the shower. Searching every piece of you, you don’t know what more you can change or give or swap out like spare parts, to finally, finally, be enough/real/alive.

In the fogged mirror, you look. Truly look. A collection of cobbled together bits and limbs. Someone else’s lips and hair and clothes. All yourself and your work amputated.  A zombie pantomime of by-gone ideals and remembrances.  

You wipe away the fog again. There, smeared and broken among the watery trails, it is all too obvious why he cannot love you. You do not love yourself like this. A monstrous visage, the good parts ignored to decay, just a stitched-up collection of dead things.

He catches you crying sometimes. Swears to leave you for good and you beg him to stay. Every time. Holds you tight to his chest and whispers he’s sorry and promises to stop hurting you because he cares, he really cares, but you don’t think he knows exactly who is to blame.

He is late getting to his place one night so you start the record player. Sway, arms wrapped around yourself as Billie Holiday sings “You Go to My Head.”

On the refrain, Steve comes up behind you. Places his lips gently on your shoulder, runs his hands down your arms.

“Dance with me, Steve,” you say, facing away. Hold yourself a little tighter.

You hear his short gasp.

“God, please give me this, Steve. Please, just dance with me.” You didn’t ask, but I gave up everything for you.

Wordlessly, he turns you and draws you to him. Sways until the notes fade away.

**

Your heart might not beat for a solid minute when the words “Time Travel” first come up.

It’s the end. Steve doesn’t realize what he’s going to do, but you do. Given half the chance, there’s no doubt.  

“Hey, Doll.” He pulls you into his chest. “It’s going to be okay. This is what we do.”

You nod against him. No doubt they will be successful. Mutely, you pull out of his embrace. You cannot leave fast enough, this place where all these gods and angels stand.

Your last mistake is not going to your room.

While the solitary bird flits around where you sit in the courtyard, a concerned Steve overrides security to get into your quarters to comfort you.

When you get to your room, Steve is there. Looks so out of place, like a dog on its hind legs. His face is flat, eyes cold. Silently, he turns your digital photo frame toward you. Each photo stripping away another lie. A photo of you with your parents, another in your toe shoes, two at recitals, tongue out and drunk at an Ozzy concert. Not one looks like you now. Not one.

Jaw squared, he looks to the kitchen where printouts of old recipes litter the counter.

“Steve,” you say, starting to reach for him. He puts a hand up. “Steve, let me explain.”

“You know,” his voice is steel, “I didn’t go out with you because you reminded me of the past. I went out with you because you asked me.”

“Steve, I just wanted to…wanted to…” “You wanted to what? Read about me in a textbook and try to be - what? - fake it? Ugh, God.”  He rolls his eyes, body half-twists away.

“It’s not like that.” Except, it is.

“It’s not? Oh, well then please tell me. Enlighten me. Because from where I am right now, it sure fucking looks like you took things you thought were special to me and just, what? Wore it like a suit to manipulate me?”

Near numb, you shake your head.

“It worked...it worked so well and you let me feel guilty about it!”

The shame pushes your legs out from under you. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

“Me? You can try to tell yourself that. No, you did this for you.” Holds the picture frame in both hands, the colors reflect in his eyes as they change. Under his breath, he says, “I don’t even know you.”

Steve nails you with his gaze. “Do you even realize what you’ve stolen from me? What you guilted me into? What I saved and I can never get back?”

Billie Holiday echoes in your brain. The song, the dance. Like a miracle, you hate yourself more.

You are carved down, scoured out, brittle bones bleached in the sun.

He shakes off his anger slightly. “I knew you were holding back, but this?” He points to a stack of work you’d let languish. Detailed housing plans, nutrition guidelines, research and half-complete presentation charts. “I can’t understand why...why wouldn’t you include me in this? Were you scared of not being enough? Too much? Of being you?” He sighs out. “Everyone can have those thoughts, that’s understandable. But, you didn’t trust me with you.”

You desperately reach for him, hold his arms. “I do trust you. I do.”

He scoffs. “The problem is you let me care about someone who doesn’t even exist. Who never existed. You kept “you” secret from me while I opened up to you. You think I let anyone else ever know how fucked up I feel?”

He looks at you in a way you never wanted. With grief.

“Damn it - Goddamn it all. I let you in.” I expect him to punch the wall, but the air just leaves him. He deflates. Smaller than ever seemed possible.  “I fucking let you in.”

**

Everyone comes back. Except Nat. All you have left is her voicemail.

There’s no more times together. Nothing.

It’s always been beautiful, pulsing nothing.

Bleeding out every pore.

In a makeshift office miles from decimated HQ, you bury yourself in her projects and try to resurrect your own until it’s time for Tony’s memorial.

You’re not sure why you’re going. Apart from Tony hiring you, you don’t really know anyone else there except Steve. But, Tony gave you a chance and, while you’ve mucked it up spectacularly of late, you go to honor him as best you can.

You try to stay in the shadows, so you’re surprised Steve finds you nonetheless. Even more surprised he tries.

Looking out over the water, he asks, “Are you going to be okay? Did you find a place to stay?”

“Yes.” No and yes.

“I’m so very sorry Steve. I just wish, I just wish…”

“Don’t, okay?” He blows out a sigh. Hands in his pockets. “If you didn’t trust me, I could work to make you. If you didn’t trust yourself, I’d help you learn to. But you didn’t trust either of us and there’s nothing I can do about that.  And that’s a damned tragedy.” He turns and starts to walk past you.

“Steve! Steve wait!” You cringe, your voice echoes over the serene lake. He keeps walking.

“Steve.” You sniff. “Please.” He takes a huge gulp of air and turns partially toward you, staying in profile. Shaking his head softly, jaw askew, he lifts his hands and lets them fall as if to say, “What do you want from me?”

“Can we just try again? Start over?”

How did we meet? How did we meet back when I was real?

“Steve, I’m...I’m so sorry. You’re right. I was more than guarded, I was trying so hard to be good for you. I took what I knew and what you showed me and tried so hard to mold myself into what I thought you’d want. I know that was so stupid now. But I know you. I know you! And I just want a chance for you to know me. I...I...I like metal bands and R&B. I’m a cat AND dog person. I used to tap dance. There’s photographic evidence! They let me back on the orphan program and we’re using it as a template for veterans.  I have yelled in the face of the Secretary of State. More than once. My grandparents didn’t raise me but I spent summers with them.” You choke back more tears. “I am actually a bit of a pervert. That’s who I am. I screwed up. I just want a chance to show you ‘me.’”

You cough and through blurry vision it almost looks like he starts to reach for you. Then, his arm pulls back.

“But what I felt - what I feel for you is so real. I’m absolutely in love with you, Steve Rogers.” You wipe your sleeve across your wet face. “I know I screwed up and I hurt you and I have no excuses, but I am b-begging you to give me a chance. Just let me start over.”

He doesn’t move, still looking out over the lake.

“Steve, please, I just want to show you who this girl really is.”

“She sounds amazing,” he says, toneless. Walks past you toward the platform where a case full of gems and a magic hammer wait.  “I wish I could’ve met her. I would’ve loved her.”

This is when you know. You’re the bad guy in your own story.

[sincerelybillie]

this isn’t a monologue

I had asked for a getaway when I arrived at the cabin. My old roommate worked in the city and was too much of a workaholic to reap the benefits of having a place in the woods to escape the sirens and expectations of the metropolis by at least 45 miles. I needed to see what stars looked like, what my own thoughts sounded like.

On the inside, the cabin looked like the set of a 90’s sitcom set in the suburbs. Small, blocky television in the living room, with hardly any matching furniture or drapery. I sighed. I loved it.

Around 11pm, I could tell my body hadn’t gotten tired yet because perhaps being here made me feel more energized and willing to actually stay up late without the reason being that I was going to catch up on work or wrap up a dissatisfying date.

I felt like baking a cake, doing yoga, and starting a screenplay with this newfound solitude and the energy it provided me with. But my options were limited and it had gotten cold out, so I opted for mindlessly bingeing on whatever was on TV, a classic activity of suburban folk.

When I tell you that about halfway through a rerun of a forgettable show, the TV set burst into flames, I am saying that randomly, the TV caught fire and the screen made a popping noise as the flames began engulfing the stand and moving towards me. I panicked, shuffling out of the blanket and flapping it over the flames and throwing it over the fire while I searched for a fire extinguisher. I couldn’t find it, and when I went back to see how bad the situation was getting, I saw that the fire was out. Completely gone. I lifted the blanket, and the TV, stand and all, was there, perfectly fine.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling delusional. Maybe the late nights were catching up with me, but that felt too real. I stepped outside onto the deck to process what I had just apparently hallucinated, and when I did, I was met with bright sunshine and saw the frosty breath escape my mouth as I gasped.

“Billie!” called Lora, dressed for a brisk winter hike or something. She waved at me, and I saw she was with some of our mutual friends. “Why are you still in your pajamas?” she asked, sounding disappointed and like she had been waiting for me.

I had walked up to them, mostly to see if they were real, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I turned around to see Isaac step out of the now snow covered cabin behind me, holding a cup of coffee. He was also in his pajamas. I turned back to Lora who smirked, knowingly.

“Oh, I see.”

I still couldn’t say anything, but I could put together that Isaac and I had apparently slept together. There were a lot of things wrong and disorienting about this situation already, the latest one being that Isaac and I hadn’t spoken in almost three years, since I moved without ever telling him. I had never planned to see him for more than casual chit-chat and sometimes sex. It became clearer to me later that he had felt like a heads up that I was moving to another state would’ve been worth mentioning.

It seemed complicated and honestly out of character for me to be briefly back in town, having moved back to the state and living in a different city, and hook up with him. I would have been seeing someone in my new city, if anyone. I didn’t even have Isaac’s number anymore or any social media connects had this been a booty call. But does that mean I had invited him to the cabin? Lora hadn’t known him, so how else could he have ended up standing on the deck? He looked so content. I felt both pre-guilt and post-guilt for wanting to ice him out again. I wasn’t for this.

Lora was talking with the others, so while she was occupied, I rushed back to the cabin to avoid getting cold and confront Isaac. But I still couldn’t find the words. That didn’t stop the look of disappointment from once again befalling his face. I recognized it because it’s the same face he made when I didn’t kiss him on our first date.

Going to that restaurant has been so awkward for me ever since because my first time was with him, and I could tell he was convinced that promising summer night was going to end with sex. But now, we were here, in the dead of winter, and something had ended or started with sex, I couldn’t tell. Maybe he could actually see my desire to leave this time. And because I was unable to speak, the pity party seemed futile so I changed frequently and rushed outside to get help or some semblance of sanity from Lora. Why couldn’t I speak?

But Lora was gone. Everyone was. I was in my high school graduation outfit now and running late because Rocky (who I only knew from elementary because we didn’t go to the same schools after 5th grade) grabbed me and rushed me to an auditorium of a school I only recognized as one I did a service project in years ago, not one I attended as a student.

“Come on!” she said, and a musical number kicked off. Everyone in the room rushed in circles around the aisles and perimeter of the seats, while others sang onstage. The whole spectacle was chaotic and loud and overwhelming. But I couldn’t bring myself to separate from it or yell in protest or confusion. As we were about to finally take our seats as the song neared its end, I felt myself getting lifted and held in the air, but I didn’t know who was doing it.

When I was placed back down, a hand remained on my back and guided me to my seat. I had lost my graduation cap and was sitting in a disheveled gown, feeling awkward about how exposed my legs were and the fact that I was running, dancing, and being lifted in a dress. Rocky sat smiling next to me, as if this was all normal, and I noticed the person seated on her other side was Hewitt.

I had the most inconveniently long-lasting crush on Hewitt for half of elementary school and well into middle school, and it was so terrible because I guess from even a young age, I self sabotaged my love prospects by being mean or aloof to guys I liked. He had told me I was one of his best friends because I had befriended him first as the new kid and we would always make art together on Fun Fridays. That began to change as girls and guys became more separate within their social groups between ages 10 and 12. He started making fun of the way I looked and throwing dodgeballs at me, even if I wasn’t playing in the game with the others. And then one day he had the audacity to outright ask if I liked him, and I was confused because at one point, I really did and he was my favourite person to see at school. The confrontation threw me off, so I told him, “No, you’re stupid and annoying.” We had faded entirely as friends by then, but made constant eye contact in the halls and sometimes ran into each other outside of school as we got older. It always felt like he was taunting me to admit I had lied.

He didn’t go to my high school, either, so I was wondering why he was at this graduation. I was wondering why I was, too, but that thought got pushed aside by the sight of his face again. He looked at me and seemed kind of tired and sad. Something about the moment we shared, gazing at each other with Rocky blissfully unaware in between, reminded me of Isaac. My friends were usually over-optimistic about my status with the latest guy I was seeing or developed a crush on, and some of the guys themselves were never given the truth or reciprocated feelings. It had always seemed easier and safer for me emotionally to seem like the one who had invested less.

Rocky and I exited the auditorium before I remember ever walking the stage or seeing the caps get thrown in the air or any of the program events one would expect with a commencement ceremony. We walked towards a shopping center and she asked me if I was interested in seeing some high-end clothing and gourmet soaps and food. I didn’t vocally say anything, but she nodded affirmatively, and then we walked into an Asian grocery store/artisan market. I’m not sure what it was, but I spent some wandering the aisles and admiring the foreign packaging. I picked up something, debated shoplifting it, and saw Rocky in another aisle, likely contemplating the same. She looked up, spotting me, and smirked, knowingly.

I felt myself wanting to ask her questions, like if she knew what was going on, but as we exited, she said she had to get back to campus. But it wasn’t the high school campus. She walked towards what resembled the music building at Las Positas College, where I had studied for two years before moving/taking a couple gap years. I don’t remember Rocky ever having attended, though.

She left, and for the first time since the TV catching fire, I was alone.

[ambwimagines]

Pocket Chocolate: Chapter 3, Please See me.

(Flashback)

Boy 1: You want your glasses back little weirdo ? huh ?

Boy 2: Or do you want this stupid little notebook ?

Minhyung: Hey give that back ! (reaching for his notebook)

Boy 1: And if I dont ? (Pushes him back on the ground)

 Suddenly he looks and sees you out of his peripheral 

Minhyung: Or I’ll tell everyone how you wet the bed at his slumber party last weekend.

Everyone: Oooooohhh!!!!

Boy 1: Shut up, mommy said I had too many glasses of milk

Everyone: *Still pointing and laughing at the boy*

Boy 1: Here take your stupid book ! you loser ! (runs off crying)

Mark gets off of the ground and dusts himself off and gets up jogging to meet you half way across the school yard.

Y/N: What?.... was that?

Minhyung: Power...(throws his arm around you as you both walk into the school)

*PRESENT DAY*

Walking into the doors of the facility. A bright sunny day. People scattered all across the lawn and inside the building of the University. Serving their purpose, fulfilling their duties one way or another. You walk through the doors hastily with no time to waste. You we're 30 minutes late for your first class and did not wanna make it 31. Your friends from Accounting 101 we're waiting by the door along with a group of other kids. You ran up to them with a puzzled look on your face. "What's going on ?" You asked the congregation of people. "Apparently ,Mr. Jung is not in today." One of your classmates spoke up calling for your attention. "Why ?" You ask walking over to him. He shrugs his shoulders and walks away. Your friends from the same foreigner exchange program and class Valerie and Erin came over to you.

Erin: Yeah we don't know we just got here and saw the note on the door.

Y/N: Well do you think he's okay ?, what if he got beat up on the way home or mugged or something ?

Erin: The man is 6'4 with a permanent scowl, I don't think anyone wants to mess with that.

Y/N: Yeah, you're right (laughs) but what about our assignment?

Erin: He's not here to give it to us sooo... Not our problem

Y/N: Okay you guys can maybe afford to miss assignments but I can, this is my sixth and final year, I have to write my thesis in less than 3 months, I don't have my FFB project done and-...

Valerie: Shhhh... do you want a repeat of last semester ?

Erin:Oh yeah they took you to the in-house mental institution

Valerie: It is called the Student mental retention center its for students who are stressed out and feel like they are on the edge of a mental break.

Erin: In house...nut house.

Y/N: Guys I get it ! okay I get it. I’m not trying to make a scene I just feel like I won’t succeed and I’m just wasting money

Erin: As dedicated as you are ? You have an A in his class right now.

Y/N: An -A Erin, I have an - A . People who come out of this program and get offers from corporate giants don’t get an -A.

Valerie: You need a break, I need a break, Erin needs a break. We all need a break. Maybe it’s a good thing Mr Jung is not here today. We all just need a little reset before the end of the semester.

Y/N: Maybe you’re right...maybe I do deserve a break

Erin: Yeah you know,...or some Valium

Y/N: Sorry Erin...(Sticks your tongue out at her)

Erin: (nonchalantly flips her off)

Y/N: You know it would be good, I can catch up with my friend, I haven’t seen him in a long while.

Valerie: Friend? Him? When did you see him?

Y/N: I saw him at the convenience store last night, Minhyung.

Valerie: Wait wait. Minhyung as in Lee Minhyung as in Mark Lee ?

Y/N: Yeah that’s him

Valerie: How come you didnt tell me Mark was your best friend ?

Y/N: I didnt know, we spent like 10 years away from each other. I know he always said he wanted to write but I didn’t think it meant he wanted to write songs for a group.

Valerie: Well you know you should have told me as soon as you found out.

Y/N: Everything isn't about you Val

Erin: I tell her that and she just hits me (blocks valeries incoming hand) See ?

(All laughing in unison)

Y/N: Guys let's go have fun today. Let's go make memories.

It was settled you guys decided to enjoy the rest of the day together. Seeing everything this great city you just when to college in had to offer. Hours of goofing off, eating and laughter had passed you by and you end up on the second floor of a store. In the home section. Looking at pillows for your dorm because you brought yours from home and they were getting worn out really fast.

Y/N: What about this black and white one that says vibes and it has fringe on it.

Erin: Nah, too conventional

Y/N: okay....what about this one ? Erin: Seriously are you even trying ?...(laughs) Y/N: It says botong ( 보통) Sleepy, which is usually sleepy, which is a giant mood.

Erin: Okay well you’re botong basic as fuck (laughs)

Y/N: Erin how did we even become friends ? Erin: You got me a C average in  Mr. Jung’s class I had to repay you somehow (loudly sips her iced fruit tea)

Y/N: Ha-ha very funny (rolls her eyes) You know you actually like being around me

Erin: (pats you on the head) Yeah, keep telling yourself that kid. As Valerie snickered at the both of you this guy walked in staring at the three of you. None of you noticed him. But he noticed you guys though. He continued to stare hard as he pretended to scope out a couple of stools and coffee tables across the room. At one point you and the creep even made eye contact. You were staring at him staring right back at you and it didnt even bother him. You turn away shaking your head in disgust. You look up and see Mark walk in and you call out his real name to get his attention.

Y/N: Minhyung ! Mark: Hey Y/N hows it goin ? Y/N: It’s goin, Just lookin for some pillows. Oh these are my friends (gesturing towards the two girls) Erin and Valerie. Erin: (throws up peace sign) Sup (smiles) Valerie: Oh my god I know exactly who you are. I thought the only time I would ever get to see you would be in concert, if I was even that lucky. Mark: I take it you’re a huge fan of NCT Valerie: The biggest, I know all the songs and dance movies and for my birthday. I even got a comforter with the Pixel animation Taeyong teaser photo !!! Erin: All I got were a pack of black socks and some tin foil last year Y/N: (Holds back laughter) Mark: You have some very interesting friends Y/N: They kept me sane these past few years. Mark: I can imagine (snickers)

As you and Mark watch Erin and Valerie argue about Valerie getting her a crappy gift last year because she simply forgot. The strange man in the room went undetected and unnoticed. He got dangerously closer inching closer to your section of the room. Erin: We live together ! you said and I quote (Imitates Valeries voice) “ Hey guys if you want a gift from me just put your name under the date on this tiny pink magnetic calender I just bought, I promise I won’t forget.” Valerie: God Erin, I was busy! Erin: So busy you went to the store and got me socks and tin foil at one in the morning the day before. Valerie: In my defense I had no idea what to get you, you barely talk to anyone about the things you like. They kept on arguing and no one saw the man come on the same aisle as you four. Your back was turned to him and so was Mark’s. Erin was in mid-sentence naming off the things she liked to Valerie and that was when it happened. The man came up behind you and snatched you from the spot you were standing in. Hoisting you into the air about to take you away with him. But your friends quickly charged toward him. Grabbing the closest leg or arm of yours they could get their hand on. They pulled for their life against the abnormally strong perv. Mark grabbed the guys hands which were wrapped around your waist while you were still in the air. he pulled them apart effortlessly fumbling his grip with you. Dropping you on to Mark for him to catch you. Causing the man and your two friends to fall on the floor. Mark Gently pushes you aside walking towards the man slowly as he backs away further and further looking up at Mark. Mark grabs him yoking him up by his collar in the air and then slams him back down on to the ground. The man blunders back up to his feet and runs away.

Erin: Guys Security ! (Whisper-yelling) All four of you crouched down simultaneously behind a white shelf with vases and other decorative glassware. Crab walking and putting a finger over you guys mouths reminding the person next to you to be quiet. You all safely make your way to the other exit at the back of the store and leave. Mark walks you and your friends home walking a few steps behind you three making sure no one else tries to put their hands on you. You walked huddled between your friends in the middle of them. They both rest their heads on your shoulder. You’re holding your wrists and looking back at Mark every once in a while to make sure he’s still there. When he sees you he gives you a small reassurance smile turning up the corners of his mouth. You return a brief smile to him. You arrive at the steps of the dorms still holding hands with Erin and Valerie. They try to go ahead but you gently pull them by their hands which are in yours to get their attention.

Y/N: Guys I’m gonna talk to Minhyng for a bit is that okay ? Erin: Will you be okay ? Y/N?  Erin asks with the concern seeping from her voice. Not to be dramatic but she real life almost lost you today. Only god knows what would have happened if Mark wasn’t there and your friends couldn’t fight him off or weren’t strong enough to pull you back at least. Y/N: I’ll be fine. Promise. Erin and Valerie step down a step and hug you again before the ascend the steps and go to the shared dorm. They were so worried, something told you they were gonna be this way from now on and truth be told. They had every reason to be. You step back down a step and come face to face with Mark. He turns to face north and you both walk the other way.

Mark: Are you okay Y/N ? Y/N: I’ll be fine I’m sure...won’t really trust any other guy except you from now on but, I can live with that. Mark: You know I’ll never let anything happen to you right ? Y/N: Obviously Minhyung, with what you did back there. You know it’s kinda like...it’s kinda like that day that Jack Whitaker was picking on you and you told the entire 3rd grade class he peed on himself at Tommy’s slumber party and he ran away crying (laughing as you talk) Mark: He should have never took my notebook. Y/N: (Laughs) But seriously it’s like you were an entirely different person that day and in the store. What was it ?... Mark: You want the answer ? Y/N:(turns her head to look at Mark and nods yes) Mark: You. Y/N: (Stops walking and looks at Mark wide-eyed) Mark: Yeah that day when I was getting picked on, I was feeling defeated. Then I looked up and I saw you. The day of our 5th grade graduation I was extremely nervous. Then I looked up and I saw you. When I see you I get braver. When I see you I get more strength to carry on and do what needs to be done. And when I wake up and put my feet on the floor. I grab my phone, I go to my pictures, and I look at you. Y/N: Minhyung....That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I’m speechless and I don’t know what to say. Minhyung... you’re amazing Mark: You’re ethereal Y/N: (Hugs him tight) Mark:( Hugs her tighter)

*LATER ON THAT NIGHT*

The boys were settling in to go to bed. They were washing up brushing their teeth, and putting on pajamas. Mark is just coming in the door feeling on top of the world. The load is lightened and he felt weightless. He felt like a feather. He closed the door behind him and exhaled with the utmost glee.

Doyoung: (coming out with a towel over his shoulder brushing his teeth) Last one in is the last one to the Showers. You have like 3 or 4 people in front of you. Taeyong is one of them and he likes to take long showers. Mark: Okay Doyoung,hyung  Mark dances to his room sliding and moving his feet rhythmically. Today was a perfect day. Today was the day of all days. Unfortunate were the circumstances that brought it about but for him was an amazing day none the less. Johnny pops up out of nowhere leaning against the door post of his room.

Johnny: I haven’t seen you this happy since the first dance practice for our comeback. Mark: Ha-Ha very funny Johnny Johnny: What’s the occasion? Mark: (takes out his phone looking at a picture of you he made his lock-screen) I took the opportunity to let someone know where my strength truly comes from. Johnny: Oh...where? Mark: It’s a secret Johnny: Well you know a good magician never reveals his secrets Mark: (clicks his teeth and makes finger guns at Johnny) Johnny:( Does the same to mark)

Mark laid back in his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was something he didnt really do unless he was saddened by something. But in this case he was happy. He was ecstatic. But he came to a realization, to let someone know the power you have over them is a gift and a curse. Depending on what they do with the knowledge obtained. How they act, what they think of you, the decisions they make in light of you. It effects you. He silently says to himself while he closes his eyes his one wish, his one prayer. If god never gave him anything or did anything ever again....Just one thing. Just one Mark: I trust Y/N with my heart, please don’t let her break it.

Postscript: If it’s not too much trouble please shoot me a quick message or put a lil’ something in my inbox giving me your honest opinion on this chapter, the series so far or whatever as long as it Pertains to Pocket Chocolate only . I really want to know what I can do to make it a better series and a better reading experience for you all and I won’t know what you want unless you tell me. Some writers think they are above criticism and you should just accept whatever they put up. Not me. Let me know what you might want to be talked about in the next chapter perhaps, if anything, even my writing style. My spelling, my egregious use of slang or the Korean-Romanization of words or mis-use of Korean words. Whatever you feel just slightly keeps you from enjoying my writings the way you want to. Tell me and I’ll fix it, tweak it, whatever I need to do. As always I love you all so very much. Thank you for reading and supporting.  -Kayla

[fromageinterrupted]

21 - Kiss on a dare combined with 64 - Being Unable To Open Their Eyes For A Few Moments Afterward for plance <3

Hooo boy! This prompt possessed my soul and made me churn out 3,000 words just so the babies could kiss.  @hailqiqi I hope this does justice to the prompts. I love you and your amazing writing ability! 

You can find me on AO3 fromageinterrupted.

Fair warning, it does get somewhat T rated.

                                                   STB

This was was stupid. The whole thing was completely ridiculous and Pidge wanted none of it. The dumb town had lost their mind.

“Do I have to, Hunk?” She whined. She wasn’t much of a whiner, but the whole thing was getting out of hand and Hunk had her backed into a corner.

“Nu-uh. No way. You are not getting out of this. You AGREED to my terms and now you must pay the price.” He held their agreement over her head like some malevolent angel sent to deceive the desperate.

“Maybe we could alter the terms of our agreement? I’m sure I can come up with something else besides this.” She shoved her phone into his face, but he pushed it out of the way.

He grabbed her shoulders. “I got you the goods, now pay up.”

“God, they were just brownies, Hunk. Regular brownies at that. Not even frosted.”

She wanted to pretend that they were ordinary, but she knew better, everyone knew better. Hunk’s brownies were the literal best dessert in town. Everyone wanted them, but he insisted he had to be in the right mindset to make them and he had to love the person he was making them for, thus making them a sought-after and rare commodity. Pidge had to agree with this faulty logic because,one time she had one of his brownies he was coerced into making for their home-ec class-- a class Hunk could have taught with both hands behind his back-- and they were terrible. Though, she suspects he did that on purpose so the teacher would leave him alone the rest of the semester.

Pidge had needed his brownies. Hundreds of them. She was going to go to the summer program at Caltech if it killed her and she had to raise the money for the final payment somehow. All her spec work had dried up, so her mom suggested a bake sale. Pidge couldn’t bake to save her life, but Hunk was an angel (albeit an evil one-she knows this now) sent from heaven who agreed to offer his services for free...except one thing. She had to do whatever he wanted her to do for whole day. Which, at the time, seemed a pretty fair price.

The day had gone swimmingly; they hung out at his place, planted the starters for his summer vegetable and berry gardens, did some homework, then ended up at Shakes, a candy colored building with a giant spinning shake on the roof, a beacon of socialization for much of the town’s teen populous. Inside offered raised booths surrounding groups of tables that could be arranged in any configuration, some more quiet nooks off to the side, and a long counter with stools where the patron not traveling in a pack could order a darn good burger and shake, any flavor imaginable. Pidge and Hunk had taken up residence in one of the raised booths, offering them a full view of the daily drama that a collection of teens can bring, as well as shielding them from being front and center to the drama.

She had been lulled into a false sense of security that a good burger and a great shake could bring;  her trust in her friend was too great apparently.

“You’re going to do it, and you’re going to enjoy yourself. Sometimes Pidge-” Hunk sighed as if the burden of his friend’s singleness was too great,”- I think you’re made of stone.” He pinched her cheek and winked at her. His hand shot out to point suddenly  “Look! There he is now!”

Pidge swung her head over her shoulder to see where Hunk was pointing, her stomach dropping when she saw him. Lance McClain, resident co-captain of the swim team and the lead in all the school drama productions. He was as cliche as they come; tall, dark, and handsome. Or hawt-- “H. A. W. T. Won’t McClain Please Look at Me!?”--as the fanclub liked to say.

There were at least 12 seniors in his group. They had pulled together several tables and were lounging around them in one position or another, pretty girls in cheerleading outfits sitting on some the guys’ laps, other ones leaning over their burger baskets, their elbows on the table, fully invested in their dinner, one guy was doing the thing with the knife. He looked a little less than thrilled to be there and Pidge suspected his presence had everything to do with the girl he was sitting next to. Lance was sitting on the end, his chair turned sideways along the table, his long legs sticking out into the space left when they grouped the tables together. He was popular and well-liked and Pidge was....well...not. Popular that is. Sure she had a name for herself among the academic crowd, but she was persona non grata around the rest, no reason to get to know one of the teacher’s nerdy children.

Lance suddenly looked right at them, a smile blooming on his face when he spotted Hunk, then started waving. That’s right, Pidge remembered, Hunk was pretty popular and well-liked too.

“Hey Hunk! Hey Pidge!”-Huh?-Maybe not as unnoticed as she assumed. To be fair, he was good friends with Hunk, and Pidge had been around them several times during study sessions. Hunk waved backed, a crooked grin on his face. Pidge nodded at him over her shoulder and turned back to face Hunk.

He flipped her phone over, face up. “Turn it on Pidge. It’s time”.

She stared at it like it was a pen at a scantron test. “No Hunk. Please….”  She couldn’t do it. She was not brave enough.

As if he could read her mind Hunk responded, “You’re one of the bravest people I know. Besides, your brother made the app. Think of it as supporting your family.”

“My brother can go die for inventing that app. It’s ridiculous. Look around:” Everyone in the place had their phones face up, a colorful digital spinner visible on many of them. When they went dark, someone would get up and find someone else and they would kiss. Most of it was pretty vanilla, but they were teens and pretty hormonal. Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Spin the Bottle? Come on Hunk. Why is this popular? Why doesn’t everyone just use tinder?”

Hunk laughed, “Really, Pidge? Tinder? That’s for hooking up you know. STB is for fun. Just a little non-committal lippage among friends. Mostly harmless and a whole lot of fun.”

“Says the guy who has girls pretending the ‘bottle’ landed on you.” her food had come mid conversation so she took the opportunity to stuff a bunch of fries in her mouth in disgust.

Hunk chuckled, “And who am I to turn them away? I’m not in the habit of breaking girls’ hearts. Anyway, turn the app on Pidge.” He tapped her phone again.

Pidge wiped a hand across her mouth. “Alright, fine. Gimme.” She grabbed her phone and turned it on. The app already open on her phone, Hunk having started it up when they got to Shakes.  Lance’s name and current location displayed. Pidged shivered.

Matt had made a pretty good app actually. He developed software that could vet those who wanted to use the app, making sure high schoolers only met up with other high schoolers and so on. He’d made it for his senior project and school prank all in one. Spin The Bottle. Simple, easy to use, and it spread like wildfire. Everyone she knew had the app, and most everyone would open it during lunches at school and when they were hanging out at Shakes.

It worked like this: you would spin the colorful wheel on the screen, it would cycle through anyone signed up on the app and signed in at the time in the radius you choose at that time. Then, when it lands on a person, you find them and kiss them. You can always deny the kiss, but there was a leader board for both amount of kisses and time spent kissing. And, being the hormonal teens they all tended to be, the competition was strong.

Even though it was her brother’s creation, Pidge did not play STB. She was not “dtk” or whatever everyone said. Now Hunk’s evil design had placed her squarely in the game and she was...well..nervous. She had never kissed anyone before and this was a most public way of checking that off her list. Not to mention, she was already a wreck around Lance usually anyway. Where other’s flirted with people they liked, Pidge ignored them or made kind of mean comments. Both things she’s directed toward Lance numerous times.

She folded her hands in plea. “Please Hunk. Pretty Please. I can’t do this.”

Hunk stared her down. “You can and you will. Not only do you owe me for the brownies, but--and I’m sorry to bring this up-- you still owe me a dare.” A smug look of triumph crossed his face. Pidge could not believe this.

“I owe you a dare? How does that?...That doesn't even make sense Hunk!” It was ridiculous. “You can’t owe someone a dare.”

“Uhuh. Back in fifth grade, at Stinky’s birthday party, when we were playing ‘Truth or Dare’. Your mom came and got you before I could give you a dare. It’s time to--”

“-Don’t finish that.” She glared at him.

“Pidge, I dare you to kiss Lance McClain. Now get up. Get on with it.”  He had stood up, pulled Pidge to standing as well, placed her phone in her hand, and pushed her forward. She almost fell off the raised platform. “Wait!” her heels dug into the floor. “I. I have french fry breath. I can’t kiss-” Hunk cut her off.

“Open up.”

Her body must have decided to do it’s own thing regardless of her brain cause she opened her mouth wide. Hunk took the opportunity to dump quite a number of Tic Tac into it.

“There. Now chew those on the way over and you’re golden.” he gently shoved her off the platform.

Pidge stumbled forward before straightening herself up. There was no use in fighting it. If she was going to follow through on a dare from fifth grade and her promise to Hunk, she was going to do it right.

The Tic Tacs melted quickly leaving her mouth feeling cool and hopefully smelling nice as well.

Pidge held her phone in her hand, Lance’s name flashing as she came closer to him. His own phone was in his hands, his attention fully on the screen as STB alerted him to Pidge’s proximity. Everyone at the table fell silent as she stopped next to his outstretched legs. He looked up at her, a question in his pretty blue eyes.

“Katie?” Crap! She forgot Hunk signed her up using her real name. A million thoughts were running through her head as she contemplated her next move.

“Pidge? Your real name is Katie?” he kind of laughed “it’s cute, it suits you.”

Some of the initial nervousness left her stomach, replaced by the feeling of butterflies. Her cheeks warmed. “I..yes. I’m Katie.” real smooth Pidge.

Lance titled his head toward her phone, “Looks like we’re paired up on STB. You ready to do this?” Pidge though she saw something like hope in his eyes. Could he want to kiss her? Seems unlikely but here they were regardless. She looked over at Hunk in the distance, he gave her a thumbs up.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this McClain.” He straightened up and Pidge moved herself between his open legs. He was so tall (and she was, admittedly, very short) that Pidge wouldn’t have to bend down too much to align her lips with his. She leaned forward.

“Hold on Pidge.:” Lance pressed a button on his app accepting the STB pairing and reached out and did the same on hers. “We still have to find out how long this is going be.”

That’s right, Pidge forgot the length of the kiss was randomly generated by the app. Most everyone got 10 to 30 seconds, some 1 minute, and very few higher than that. The most time a couple could get was 5 minutes, but, she’s heard, that was very rare. Their apps flashed 3:00 in big red numbers. Dang! Three minutes? That seemed like a lot to Pidge. As someone who’s never kissed anyone before, this was daunting. Lance however seemed elated.

“WooHoo! No one ever gets over one minute. This is awesome.” He made some sort of look at Pidge, she assumed it was meant to be flirty and seduce her all at once. All it actually did was make her laugh a little. She responded with a bravado she did not possess. ‘“I don’t know McClain, think you can handle kissing me for three whole minutes?” She stared him down, judging his reaction.

He put his hands on her hips, pulling her toward him. “We’re about to find out, aren’t we?” The timer on the phones beeped signalling the start. Lance moved one hand to the back of her neck and pulled her head down toward his.

Pidge didn’t know what she had been expecting. Two people’s skin touching each other shouldn’t feel like this. Objectively, she had known she wanted to put her face on Lance’s face for some time even though she had no frame of reference for having this want.

She didn’t move for a moment. Lance’s lips were soft and warm as he moved them . He kept placing tiny kisses on her lips, barely any suction at all, and it felt incredibly good to Pidge. His next kiss pulled her bottom lip out just a little, and, as it snapped back into place, something other than Pidge’s brain took over.

Her lips did their own thing and she went with it. She started to repeat whatever Lance did. Soon the kiss became more intense. Lance had shifted both his hands back to her waist, his fingers sliding just under the hem of her shirt, barely grazing the skin there. She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, sliding her hand through the hair at the nape. She pressed harder, tilting her head. Lance seemed to enjoy that because he pressed back, the time between their lips losing contact becoming nonexistent.  

A beep from their phones indicated a minute had passed. If felt like the fastest minute of Pidge’s life. She didn’t want three minutes to end. No amount of imagining kissing Lance had prepared her for how good it felt, how the butterflies in her stomach bloomed into something else entirely, some energy that flowed through her veins and warmed every inch of her. She wanted more from him, more from this kiss. Lance apparently did too because the next thing she knew his tongue had begun to trace the seam of her lips.

Pidge was no dummy. She had read a lot of source material, she knew french kissing was merely a part of kissing as a whole, but again, she was not prepared. She followed suit however, opening her mouth a little, giving unspoken permission to Lance to do his thing.

Which he wholeheartedly did. His tongue swept into her mouth, moving along her lips and running along her tongue, Pidge felt the overwhelming drive to reciprocate moving her tongue along his, astounded at the intimacy of this kiss.

The two minute beep sounded and Lance’s kisses became intense. He had pulled her so close to him their whole bodies were touching. His arms were holding her tight which Pidge was very thankful for, because what he was doing with his tongue and lips was leaving her weak in the knees. Somewhere in her mind she was chiding herself for being so cliche, but the rest of her was screaming for more. The game required the kiss be lip to lip, but she couldn’t help wanting him to kiss her neck, her ears, down her jaw, the possibilities were endless.

He made a noise, low and rich, that sent shivers through Pidge and made her toes curl. Their tongues were moving in unison now, their breathing getting faster. She was getting light-headed and overwhelmed. She was sure whatever was going on between them was something more than two acquaintances exchanging spit. Hunk may have been the better person at chemistry, but her and Lance were creating an explosive formula that seemed to be working very well.

BEEEEEEEP! The three minutes were up. Pidge tried to slow down, her task completed, but Lance didn’t stop, he kept slanting his lips over hers again and again. Then the whole restaurant started cheering and whooping. Reminded of their audience, Pidge pulled back abruptly, embarrassed by the show they just put on.

Lance however still had his eyes closed. His lips were puffy and red, his cheeks were flushed against his tan skin, his chest was rising and falling with rapid breaths. His tongue flicked out and licked the corner of his mouth. Pidge couldn’t help but want to kiss the spot his tongue had just been in. She shuddered.

Finally Lance opened his eyes. His lids still half lowered like he was coming out of some dream. Pidge could only assume the look on his face was one of desire because all she knew at that moment was how much she desired him too. He reached over and touched the “completed” button on the app.

“That was….” He stared at Pidge, his hands back on her hips. “....amazing. You...you want to hang out?” there was a note of unsurredness in his voice, Pidge didn’t understand why he would be remotely worried she wouldn’t say yes after that whole kiss, She pulled the words out of her fog of emotions. “Sure….maybe we could go sit with Hunk?” She glanced at Hunk in the corner booth, beaming at her. “Ooor…” She hesitated when Lance didn’t respond right away.

“No..that’s...fine. I mean..good. Maybe after we eat we can go somewhere?” His eyebrow raised in question.

Pidge flushed. “Sure. Let’s..hang out more.” She hoped she was conveying that she wanted to make-out with him more, but also get to know him better at the same time. That darn kissed had unlocked something in her and all she could think about was kissing him again. It wasn’t the point of the game, but somewhere along the way the game had been forgotten.

Lance stood up. Pidge had forgotten how tall he was, she had to crane her neck to see his face. She started doing calculation on how to remain in places where she could easily kiss him without serious calf exercises and high heeled shoes. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they went to meet up with Hunk.

“See you later guys..” He finger-gunned at the group, the knife guy rolling his eyes at him.

Hunk was stifling his glee when they got to the booth. Lance and he high-fived. “Nice work there buddy, though I would have saved that for a more private location. “

Pidge grimaced, Lance responded “Thanks, Pidge deserves my best work. Next time I’ll keep it less public.”  

“Next time?” Pidge asked him in a slightly threatening way. Sure she absolutely wanted a next time, but she wanted him to ask, not assume. He rubbed his hand on the back of his head. “I mean..that is..if you agree to a next time.” It made Pidge’s stomach do flip-flops to see him squirm and ask her. “Yeah. Next time let’s not be so public.”

“Yeah!” Lance gave a triumphant fist pump to the air and sat back in the booth, patting the spot  beside him. “Have a seat Pidgey. Your food is cold, it’s my fault so I’ll get you more. “  

“First I need to go use the bathroom. I’ll be right back guys,” Pidge turned to leave, Hunk was still going on about Lance’s “moves”. They probably thought she couldn’t hear them. The last thing she heard Lance say before she was too far to make out their words was “Thanks man, that was totally worth helping you make hundreds of brownies.”

[chuicide]

Alpacas As Pets?

If you are going to own alpacas, you're going to need at the very least one, safe pasture to keep them in. And if you buy alpacas of each sexes, you'll want at least two! Pastures for alpacas may need a bit extra consideration than different livestock. Some factors to think about may be:- Pasture location. Pasture visibility. In case you have the choice, attempt to position your pasture within easy observation of your house. Saves a lot of operating again-and-forth when you hear the alpaca alarm name! Pasture size. How many alpacas do you think you will have? Dry-lot or Grazing. When you've got grass in your pasture, and expect to graze your alpacas through the rising season, you may wish to you'll want to have a big sufficient field. In the event you dry-lot (no grass), you will need to make sure to allow enough room for exercise. Shade. If your pasture doesn't allow for natural shade, you'll need to contemplate this when building your barn.- Poisonous Plants.

Nonetheless, it may have appeared to some that on the time I wasn't as proud of our results as I am now declaring. Permit me to explain. As quickly as the show staff was chosen I've been preventing with myself. I've been trying to keep my feet on the ground and never get carried away with my imaginings. Sadly I've as soon as once more failed miserably, its the identical every year. When I'm awake I'm consistently day dreaming about the team profitable every thing despite making an attempt to stop myself. Regardless of how arduous I attempt I simply cannot see anything apart from a clear sweep of first locations. It is basically, actually irritating. I even tell people who we won't do nicely but secretly inside I am picturing myself surrounded by ribbons and rosettes. Severely, second place never even enters my head! Consequently I am all the time disenchanted if we do not get awarded first place (and I am sure that I'm not alone). I can say be glad with our results. And let's not forget there have been a number of present groups at the futurity that have been nearly double the scale of the complete Patou herd! So we return to battle another day, very proud of our little workforce, our Mighty little Patou Present group! Now to the next show, Alpaca 2012 in a number of weeks on the Hand Equestrian Centre. I am already planning full domination!

Discovering new issues around you and simply appreciating the great thing about nature in quiet bliss is quite a rare experience nowadays. Writer: Peter In this text you'll know more details about how and the place to be taught laptop animation in nowadays. Writer: Joseph Simpsone Animation software program to download at no cost ,the question is , is it really free? What is an offshore umbrella company 2. Why We want To manage Plastic Waste? Causes for Selecting the best Guide of China Imports four. Studying About the Metal Fabrication Process 5. Discovering an excellent Locksmith Made Straightforward With Simple Ideas 6. Tokyo International - Actavis, Warner Buyout. A brief Dialogue On The Versatility Of Polyester Fabrics 8. The importance of fine mystery shopping 9. Totally different Functions of Thermal Spray 10. White rice and white rice recipes! Microsoft’s Search Engine Bing Celebrates Its fifth Birthday 2. 4 Reasons to Have Loyalty Program to Retain Prospects three. Finest Resume Writing Services: What is Most Supreme for You? I've been waiting for this cria since 2008 once we first bought Bellesa from Evergreen Elegant Alpacas in Indiana. She was bred to the famous grey import Macusani in 2008, but aborted the cria over the winter. For the last 2 months, we've been watching Bellesa very rigorously waiting for her to ship. As I discussed earlier, we had planned on a much earlier cria. I was beginning to get frightened as soon as she hit 360 days. Her stomach was huge and you could possibly feel the cria by simply putting your hand on her facet or stomach. The cria was giant and out of room! Her milk bag has also been big, nearly like a cow udder, for about 2 months. She had also been laying round loads and transferring slowly the last 2 months. We had been watching her closely for signs of distress, like rolling and kicking her stomach which may point out uterine torsion (when the uterus flips over itself and delivery is unattainable). We had also been monitoring to make sure the cria was nonetheless transferring in there.

However briefly. Firstly a twelve hour delay at Auckland Airport. The alpacas were 'regarded after' on the airport however I do not really know what that meant. They then flew to Los Angeles and from there (I do not know the way long they had been there but I don't think it was long) they then flew to Luxembourg. From Luxembourg they have been loaded onto a big livestock truck and trailer. The truck travelled towards Calais but broke down close to Paris. Again what occurred to the alpacas and the way long they have been static for I just don't know. They have been then transported throughout the channel to Dover where they have been dealt with by the authorities, whatever meaning. The driver then set off for an alpaca farm near Milton Keynes to drop off some alpacas earlier than heading for Baydon. He was stopped by the Police and every thing was checked. Apparently a 3 hour journey took ten hours. Have you ever been contemplating about how to lift yard chickens however simply cannot push by way of with the project because you're not certain whether your investments and efforts will all be value it? Eggs are one of the most typical ingredient when baking or cooking Chirstmas Gift Ideas meals. Thus, when you've got your individual chickens that lay eggs, then you can simply pick them up in the coop everytime you need one. The best thing about that is that you realize where the eggs came from so you possibly can be sure that they are nutritious and safe to eat. Additionally, as these are real recent eggs that have been harvested from your own backyard, the product can be greater egg yolks which are wealthy in taste. The second pointer about how to raise backyard chickens is you get all-natural natural eggs and hen meat. All-natural is normally equivalent to being wholesome so this is sweet for you. Since you've got personally cared for the chickens, you're aware that there are not any chemicals or synthetic meals that has ever been fed to the chickens. So you'll be able to be sure that your hen's eggs and meat are completely secure and healthy to eat.

Once we allow them to out of the pen they usually realized that they had entry to a completely new pasture, they had been able to occasion. You'll be able to see some of the ladies running full out, and others fortunately pronking. The Black Pearl is the main one pronking and leaping within the foreground (she’ll be two in Oct, however is still very a lot somewhat lady in character). At the tip, the brown alpaca that falls behind everyone is Silhouette. She is our solely Peruvian born alpaca and is now 18 years outdated. She has slowed down a bit, but still enjoys a run with the ladies at times. These videos are all up on Peaceful Heart Alpacas Facebook Page. You could discover they're faster to watch from there. Visit our page and Prefer it to be the first to see updates to our calendar, new photos and other news. New 12 months's Day, a leisure travel, a drop-in to the pal's house, or a celebrating celebration? Well, I bet regardless of the place you'll go or what you will do, raising the camcorder and recording the fantastic moments are what you need. With the multiple video clips, chances are you'll want to edit them for the highest quality. Then if you are a Mac person, iMovie is absolutely one of the best video editing software utility for you. Apple iMovie is the nice software program to prepare, edit, share clips and stabilize shaky clips on Mac. With this video modifying software, Mac users can edit the video clips, add titles, add music, apply results (fundamental shade correction and video enhancement tools) and transitions such as fade-in, fade-out and slides. Nevertheless, videos from Panasonic, Canon and Sony's HDR-SR and so on AVCHD camcorders are with M2TS extension. Though iMovie claims to be compatible with M2TS recordsdata from Panasonic HDC-HS300, Sony DCR-SR47, Canon VIXIA etc, but many Mac customers have problem in importing M2S files to iMovie, especially raw M2TS files, since iMovie simply can't acknowledge their camcorders.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

DEADLOCK WASN'T THE ONLY DISADVANTAGE OF LETTING A LEAD INVESTOR

A hacker would consider being asked to write add x to y giving z instead of z x y as something between an insult to his intelligence and a sin against God. For historical reasons, Common Lisp tries to pretend that the OS doesn't exist. Nerds would find their unpopularity more bearable if it merely caused them to be ignored. And curiously enough, taking rejection less personally may help you to get rejected less often.1 But aside from that, I don't think I learned this until college.2 Developers have been able to achieve filtering rates that approach CRM114's. History offers some encouragement.3 Indeed, being in trouble in their family can win them points in the world works harder at anything than American school kids work at popularity.4 Standardized paperwork will do away with the need to negotiate anything except the valuation, and that it is unfamiliar to programmers, and that it is. Below is the result of your feedback form is an instant giveaway.

So not only does the desktop no longer matter, no one who has more experience at trying to predict that, so I won't repeat it all here. He probably considers them about equivalent in power to, say, physical appearance, charisma, or athletic ability. They were good at design, and perhaps even more importantly, they were good at organizing groups and making projects happen. Whatever language people happen to be used to hack. Partly because teenagers are still half children, and many players who clearly shouldn't.5 Any society of that type is awful to live in. If people had been onto Bayesian filtering four years ago, one was supposed to work one's way up the corporate ladder was genuinely valuable, because big companies tried not to fire people, and promoted from within based largely on seniority. Nearly all the people we fund at Y Combinator use Apple laptops. Another probably even worse obstacle is that one has higher standards. But after a second's reflection, the answer seemed obvious. The surprising fact is, brilliant hackers—dangerously brilliant hackers—dangerously brilliant hackers—dangerously brilliant hackers—dangerously brilliant hackers—can be had very cheaply, by the sound, when there were already about 10, and they have to take less equity to do it will be whatever the startup can get from the first one to write a check, limited by their guess at whether this will make later investors balk.

Fortran are extreme cases, but even Lisp has changed a lot. Intelligence and wisdom are obviously not mutually exclusive. Thirty years ago, why wasn't everyone using it? Good programmers often want to do now. He'd seem to the kids a complete alien. The page was of course an ad for a porn site. That's a filtering rate of 92% with 1. What makes a language good for throwaway programs, which are often originally written for converting or extracting data.6

Why don't VCs start doing smaller series A rounds with no loss of quality. Whatever a committee decides tends to stay that way, you'd be running Windows. Whatever a committee decides tends to stay that way, even if most of the noise is whitish. 5 is more powerful than machine language.7 Even now, most people do work in which problems are put before them and they have to choose between them. So their numbers may not even be an accurate measure of the bugs in my implementation than some intrinsic false positive rate at the expense of the filtering rate as optimization, and decreasing false positives as debugging. The wise are all much alike in their wisdom, but very smart people, who are too mature to pick on nerds will still ostracize them in self-defense. Neither of the conventional explanations of the difference between the 20th and 21st best players is less than the measurement error. For deadlock, and partly so I don't know what the kids are doing to one another.8 John Nash so admired Norbert Wiener that he adopted his habit of touching the wall as he walked down a corridor. Wisdom seems to come largely from curing childish qualities, and intelligence as more closely related than we do.

Notes

Unfortunately, making physically nice books will only do convertible debt at a party school will inevitably arise. The tipping point for me do more with less, is a good grade you had small children to consider these two ideas separately. The threshold for participating goes down to zero.

The Nineteenth-Century History of English at Indiana University Publications. This trend is one you take to pay out their earnings in dividends, and that you should avoid. Two customer support people tied for first prize with entries I still shiver to recall. But it's telling that it would be to diff European culture with Chinese: what determines rank in the King James Bible is not really a lie because it's a bad deal.

In 1995, when we created pets. This point is that promising ideas are not in 1950 something one could reasonably be with children, with smiles and laughter. There is usually a stupid move, but they start to get all the other is laziness. The Mac number is a bridgehead.

Apparently there's only one founder take fundraising meetings is that it's fine to start software companies, but it wasn't.

Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or mining equipment, such a statement would merely be eccentric.

In fact any 'x for engineers' classes sucked mightily. In practice their usefulness is greatly enhanced by other people.

Forums and places like Twitter seem empirically to work with me there.

If you have to resort to expedients like selling autographed copies, or some vague thing like that. I was not in the sense that there were, we met Aydin Senkut. This is a cause as it might actually be bad if that means is we can't figure out yet whether you'll succeed. I believe will be inversely proportional to the environment.

Thanks to Patrick Collison, James Lindenbaum, and Jessica Livingston for putting up with me.

[cosmosogler]

late getting started again. i was faffing about with the images and some video posts that i put in my queue so as not to dominate your dashboards with five posts in a row. those will post in about two days in place of my usual memes.

today ping decided to start yowling nonstop about an hour before my alarm was set to go off. i was so angry that i stayed in bed for an extra 45 minutes, throwing off my whole day plan.

after picking up ping and throwing him out of my room i put my face down into my blanket i had folded up, since i did not pack a pillow and the spare one is... now that i think about it, not actually my pillow, and also it made my face super itchy. i will put it back on the couch where it belongs after i write this post.

it was ungodly hot for some reason. apparently it was like that for my classmates too, i found out later. i took a shower and put on my nice blouse and long skirt. i realized i had forgotten to pack nice shoes so i just wore my running shoes. the skirt was long enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious. also walking around in flats all day would have gotten really old really fast.

the physics student lounge has been relocated to a tiny office in the biology building. so it took me a few minutes to find everyone. it was crowded and hot even with the window open and the nice breeze. everyone seemed pretty happy to see me though. at least, i was happy to see them. i hung out in there all afternoon chatting and reading some articles about internet economics on the side. i also found an interesting series of posts under the title “hipsters on food stamps” that went into why we are encouraged to hate people on welfare and what it means to project onto someone else. 

my pain and discomfort didn’t get any better today, but it didn’t get particularly worse. it feels like i got an air bubble in my side right under my ribs. 

then we all went to the graduation ceremony and dinner that the department was holding for us. i quickly realized that the ceremony was not for the seniors though. it was to hand out scholarships like free candy to the underclassmen and initiate them into phi sigma phi. i did not graduate with honors. 

the dinner was acceptable. the potatoes were really good. the chocolate cake i first described as “decadent” ended up being kinda weird. i split a slice with jay. he wanted the half with all the frosting so i teased him, but it ended up working out in my favor because that extra sugar would have been too much for me.

it was good to hang out with my friends. my classmates were talking about a take-home test they had as half of a final and that they weren’t supposed to work on it together. so cody said “so when are we not working on it together, and where?” and i burst out laughing. it was legit the funniest thing someone has said around me in person in like four months.

i didn’t eat too much. at least, i felt super nauseous, but not bloated. i made it home before getting too sick to be comfortable around other human beings. so then i watched youtube videos all night like a hack.

i also talked to oz for a while when i was on campus and my friends were in class. i hope he is ok.

about the parenting thing. raising children has been on my mind a little bit lately, i’m not sure why. i don’t feel that i could adequately care for a young person as my sense of normal parenting is extremely skewed toward “be an asshole.” i keep running into situations and trains of thought where i come to a conclusion and then decide to file it away for later in case i end up talking to a child about a related topic. this hypothetical child usually, in my mind, comes from my brother or sister. i don’t think my sister wants kids, but i don’t know if my brother has thought about it/made a decision about it. i would say he is pretty young to be thinking about it, but i’ve known since i was like four that i never wanted kids, so it’s possible.

i don’t know why i keep putting this information away with the intent of bringing it up with someone else’s kid. i guess... i want to be a part of my siblings’ lives, and part of taking care of them would involve helping their kids be more thoughtful and well-rounded i guess. i want to be a cool uncle, like my uncle mike. he doesn’t dump advice on me, but he’s always got something to say if i ask or if something important comes up. i would hope to see my niece/nephews a little more often than i see my uncle though. i guess i used to see him at least once a week when i was in grade school so it could happen.

but if i took care of my own kid, i would adopt a million times before i ever had my own biological children. i got too many nasty depression genes to want to force that potential on someone else. and also i have no interest in the processes involved in manufacturing small humans. i keep thinking about parenting strategies i would use and how it would hopefully go better than how my parents treat me, almost against my will. the thoughts come more or less unprompted. mostly in the shower, but, you know. i mean, since i don’t want to make a new kid, taking care of one that already exists is a good idea, right? and the foster system has so many serious issues... 

i can’t get a handle on the logistics though. how would i help with schoolwork? emotions and self esteem? how other people treat the kid? the fine balance between freedom and hard rules? how would i balance that with my own job? i couldn’t do it by myself. would i have a spouse? how would our schedules line up to allow us to spend the most time with the kid between the two of us?

adopting a kid isn’t the same as adopting a dog. i could take care of a dog or cat or birds or reptiles. you don’t have to worry about how your dog is going to get through college or find a job or decide on a career trajectory or how to deal with bullies. you just gotta love the dog and care for its biological needs. kids are much more complicated.

i don’t know why i am thinking about that now. i am not in a good life position to put those thoughts into any sort of action. i like to plan ahead, but that turns into micromanaging really fast and really easy if i’m not super careful. i can’t manage and “fix” my friends the way i would a machine, and i shouldn’t. i wouldn’t want to subject a kid to that full-time either. 

anyway, that’s what’s on my mind. it’s 12:30 now so if i go to bed soon i will be on a semi-good schedule again. what i want to do tomorrow is go to the financial aid office and work out my tuition refund since i wasn’t even able to start this semester. i hope i did not put it off too long. it is easier to go to the office and waste their time in person than it is to make a phone call. i guess because with phone calls there are bad connections and you get put on hold and it’s stressful. in person i can sit there in front of them until they do something about me.

next week i want to start working on a bunch of short-term goals and maybe one or two long-term goals with my therapist. i need to start doing things again. i will also bake the rest of the cake batter because the other can of frosting expires at the end of this month. and i won’t put too much water in the mix this time. maybe i can trick asher’s dad into taking some of those too. i will also start the group therapy program, though i’m still not sure about what exactly that entails. i know they do workshops for specific topics depending on, i guess, the week? and there are activities, some of which seemed to be outside the hospital grounds. i am right at the edge of the age cutoff so i wonder how well i will get along with younger people. and what the quality of the therapy will be, how guided it’s going to be, whether or not we’ll have someone who launches off topic frequently. no-fun power hours are going to feel like a waste of time to me. 

i know that feeling like i need to urgently get my crap together is not actually helpful to the therapy process. it takes time but i am very interested in not having stupid random abdominal pain any more if it’s really caused by anxiety. i will try to convert my impatience into enthusiasm for throwing myself into the activities. taking them seriously will help them help me more. getting frustrated will not help me.

ok it’s 12:40 now, my usual quitting time i guess. i still have to drink another bottle of water to make sure i am not dehydrated in the morning... i’m gonna have to get up during the night as usual i guess.

[cameron-mckell]

WIP guessing game: "There"

Well, I’ll give credit where it’s due; you picked a word I (apparently) like to use a lot. I also have a lot of works-in-progress, so this reply is rather long. Some of these sentences are from the same works, and on a couple occasions I added in a surrounding sentence for a little bit of context (I couldn’t help myself), and here we are.

Organizing this by fandom, so...

Miscellaneous (A.K.A. crossovers):

‘“Yeah, I know, but there has to be something we canhook into wirelessly; check for webcams, cellphones, anything. I needto know what's going on in there.”’

‘There were a couple ofrequests in reply, so Bruce headed for the door, coincidentally following Tonyout with the shield for repairs.’

‘Steve walked to theother end of the mat, casually stretching as he went, “Um... Well, obviously nolethal force, and no permanent damage, though I don't personally care ifthere's a little bruising, but I tend to heal up fast, so.” He shrugged, andTony had to look away to hide his smirk; yeah, that serum made pretty shortwork of bruising.’

‘Just as he was bending down to assess the damage, and if theycould save him if they got an emergency medical team up there (and stupid, whyhadn't Tony thought of that and called them already?), Tron suddenly came backto life. With a vengeance.

One moment, he was lying there, perfectly still (still as death),and the next, he was all movement; he rolled and struck out with his legs, in amove that looked more like break dancing than fighting, and swept Steve's legsout from under him. He didn't stop there, though, using the momentum of thesweep to pull on (and twist to an uncomfortable angle) Steve's leg with hishands, while his legs twisted up, incidentally smacking Steve in the stomach,before catching his neck in a pincer-like grip, a hair's breadth away from countlesslethal finishers that even Steve probably couldn't survive.’

‘And that's when henoticed the cracks; there was a collection of thin, fine cracks over Tron'schest, centering on where Steve had hit him – they transferred between armorand suit without a pause, which was only mildly strange, until Tony saw aparticularly ambitious one that ran up slightly onto Tron's neck.’

‘Flynn stood half infront of Tron, smiling for all that his hands were in fists at his sides, andyes, there was definite recognition in his eyes, but he didn't move from hisprotective position.’

‘I'd like to avoid doingeither of these things, as JARVIS is a beautiful system – though there is sometraffic congestion on the main pathways – and your programs are friendly, andonly fulfilling their functions, but so am I.”’

‘But, wait, yesterday Itried to get in during the meeting, and you were there, so how could you havebeen –”’

‘And there was Tron.’

‘If she didn't bathe, orchange her clothes it didn't matter; there was no one around to see her oldenough to voice an opinion on her appearance. Every time she forgot to eat justmeant fewer dishes were lying around, waiting to be cleaned up.’

‘Seemingly unaware of thesuddenly self-conscious squirming of the widow, he continued on about the manydifferent options there were when it came to grief counseling, some based inTerran medical practices, while others were completely alien.’

‘They stopped,thankfully, when the group counselor spoke up, one pair of eyes crinklingslightly with welcome, while the other pair widened with concern, “Alan? Isthere something we can help you with?”’

‘He hesitated a moment,glancing guiltily at his friend, before shaking his head, “I can't today; Ihave to pick Jet up in twenty minutes, and it'll take me fifteen to get therefrom here. I'm sorry.”’

‘Something in there musthave been a reference to an in-joke, because the other man cracked a weaksmile, and gently brushed off Alan's hand on his shoulder, “Yeah, okay.’

‘Everyone ignored it, andthe session resumed, as if there had been no interruption at all.’

‘“At first, I thought I'd got zapped into the future again,”Steve commented from out of the blue right behind him, and Holy Crap, howlong had Steve been standing there?

 “Werethere flying cars?” Tony asked with a healthy dose of false cheerfulness,setting down his calipers so as to at least give Steve the appearance of havinghis full attention; to be fair, he had most of it, Tony just generally had ahard time of turning the rest of his brain off.‘

‘Were there no elevators or stairs in computer-world?’

‘There was just somany things – both more satisfying, and more productive – that he could bedoing with his time, instead of working on his phone to keep from nodding off,while a group of stuffy, greedy paper-pushers tried to gussy up their ownagendas and sell him on them.’

‘He'd been expecting twolarge contract negotiation teams – full of frosty men and women, dressed intheir corporate finest, carefully not-glaring at their not-quite businessrivals across the table, until they all turned at his not-so-fashionably lateentrance to not-glare at him then studiously ignore him, and he them, until nearthe end of the meeting, where he gave whatever-it-was the green or red light,and went back to doing important things – but there were only six people in theroom, including himself.’

‘There was a brown-hairedman standing by the window, facing out, hands clasped in the small of his back;the pose reminded Tony of one he'd caught Steve using every now and then,usually right before a mission.’

‘There was a steelinessin her spine that curbed most – but not all, that was probably impossible – ofhis inappropriate thoughts, but her expression was open and curious.’

‘He waved theconversation away, and was about to start in on another random topic or other –like what the deal was with all the motorcycle jackets – when there wassuddenly a stiletto heel threatening to crush his foot, and Pepper had takenover talking, “Please, don't mind Tony; he doesn't have much of a filterbetween his brain and mouth.’

‘There had been rumors ofa secret project that would change everything – Flynn alluded to it in some ofhis later presentations – but no one knew anything about it after he was gone,including Bradley, his best friend.’

‘A lot of advancementshave been made since then; there might not be a market for it anymore.” Or, inplain English 'We all know that there is some major emotional baggage with thisproject, are you wanting to do this for that reason, or is there an actualpoint, and possibly money to be made?' It was a little harsh, maybe, but if this was just somethingnostalgic to see through to the end without anything greater in mind, it wouldbe better for the company to refuse them, and use the space and power forbetter things – like the energy shielding project that was currently on arelatively low priority list for Tony to work on himself, because the potentialdestructive uses for the technology was rather high, and the company payoutswould be low, unless he could work out a safer design, and then there was theissue of –’

‘“There's also thesubject of your ethics policy, Mr. Stark.”’

‘His disciplinary profilewas nonexistent, not classified; there was simply nothing to put in it. Incontrast, there were very few notations of withheld information in hispsychological profile; Jim couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not.’

MCU:

‘Then there was Natasha, who was fine anyway.’

‘Tony took a moment toverify the contents of the clothing bundle – and yep, there was a sports bra inthere – and finally managed to look at Steve's face without automaticallyjerking his gaze away.’

‘There was the occasionalcultural misunderstanding – on both sides – but for the most part it waseasy to see that Thor had been raised to be a king, a diplomat.’

TRON:

‘“Who was it?” Alan asked after a moment, releasing the lockson his briefcase to pull out product mock-ups.

 “Thepolice,” he replied, almost in a daze. He'd have to skip the meeting to headdown there...’

‘He currently shared the barred space with three Users – andwhy did they use bars of metal, when force-fields offered a more complete,stronger, and transparent divider? – though there was a fourth User pressed close against one of the wallsshared with a neighboring cell.’

‘Something inside of him tried to shudder away from that toucheven though he lacked the freedom to do so, heaving against a jagged void that shouldnot be there...’

‘The unwelcome touch slid away from his few operative sensors,and he watched as the hand moved in when there shouldn't be space for itto do so, then Clu spoke again, audio output glitching with a sort of chokedsound. “I will fix this.”’

‘There was a faint hintof wonder added in Clu's tone this time, accompanied by the quiet beeps andtones of some sort of interface.’

‘“You should have seenthe display on his output, Tron, there aren't values high enough to quantifyit; I calculated for sure he was going to need a cold boot, but then he –Tron?” Ram's running commentary terminated immediately upon registering thesudden distance in the other program's usually intensely focused inputs.’

‘“Finally,” he groaned, though his visual output was smiling.“I was about to calculate the probability of her fusing into the datascape,with how little activity there's been lately.”’

‘There was little more than the queues and empty space betweenthe monitor's station and the processing junction, so Ress spent the next sixmicrocycles either idling or advancing with the Kaze before her, until shefinally passed through the doorway to Processing.’

‘There wasn't much elsehe could do now but wait, so he cycled down to save energy – different fromstandby only by categorization technicality – and evaluated the gaping hole inhis render.’

‘He's still there,” shehastened to reassure Sam as the blood drained from his face, “but when I try tocommunicate with him, or access his data, I keep getting an 'unknown error'message.”’

Young Justice:

‘The drumming grew louder, Wally was almost vibrating withexcess energy, and Dick was almost there, when –’

‘He turned away from the map to look at everyone else, handson his hips triumphantly. “There, last three minutes. Minus the glares andgravity, and in much smaller words.”’

‘There was a startlingly large amount of calculationsthat went into running at superspeed – between changes in the evenness of theground, what it was made of, the relative friction of that surface, and itsstability, without taking into account mobile and stationary obstacles muchless combat – and Wally sometimes got caught up in those calculationsinstead of trusting the relatively-new instincts of a body inclined to movethat fast.’

‘“I wasn’t going to be the first one to say anything but yeesh, yeah – when was the last time youwashed that thing?” Artemis declared, waving one hand in front of her facewhile the other pinched her nose shut, and Robin was glad he’d forgotten todrop his cape in with the rest of his laundry since his and Batman’s adventurehunting Killer Croc a few days ago, and there was apparently enough sewer-smellclinging to the fabric to catch the attention of someone looking for it.’

‘He opened his mouth to explain –

… Maybethere was something wrong with him.

– and closedit again.’

‘He needed to prove thatthere wasn't anything wrong with him, not anymore.’

‘“And it's a real possibility, but I can't let it stop me.Because there are people out there depending on me, and, well... I've got tohelp them. You understand?”

There was along moment – even by normal standards – where nothing happened, then thatfiery hair tickled his chin in a nod.’

‘Their fears were different– there was little danger of him slipping into relative time even briefly, asslow as he was – but the principles were the same.’

‘Maybe when there were others around, he could take a break,but until then... he had to help.’

And that’s all, folks.

[magpiewords]

March AU Madness 02

This was supposed to be a flash fill but I accidentally wrote 1700 words of bantery fluff. Eh, I had fun writing it. Hope you have fun reading it!

newspaper advice columnists who passive-aggressively diss one another in their advice au

Dear Iron Man, I’m about to go in and ask my boss for a raise. I know I deserve it, but I’m still nervous! Any tips? Thanks, Corporate Ladder-er 

Tony chuckled as he picked the reader to answer this week. As CEO of Stark Times, he so often found himself bored between proofing publications. Their paper went out twice a week, which left five days of nearly nothing to do. Well, not nothing, Tony was sure, but Pepper took care of all those minor troubles. To fill his time, and to fill a half a page in the gossip spread, Tony thought running an advice column would be fun. And oh, was it fun. Especially now that the Shield Chronicle was trying to keep up with them.

Dear Captain America, I just got a promotion! However, my new department is very different and I have a lot of new responsibilities. I want to succeed, I want to impress the department heads, but I don’t like working overtime- I want to have my own life too! This new position seems to require a lot more hours than I expected. How can I balance work and relaxation? From Unbalanced

The Captain was a poor pseudonym. It took five seconds on the Chronicle’s employee page to discover Steve Rogers had served in the army, with a rank of the same name. Tony had almost completely forgotten about Rogers; while rivals in NYU’s journalism program, they disappeared from each other’s lives after graduation. Apparently, Rogers had not forgotten about him.

 Dear Unbalanced, Work/life balance is a skill to be mastered with time. Spending all night locked in your office, forgetting to eat and ignoring people’s phone calls, is bad for your wellbeing and the health of everyone around you. On the other hand, having crazy weekends in Barbados isn’t the path to success either. Talk to your department about setting clear hours, and plan your social life around that. If work gets to be too much, they give you vacation days for a reason. Hopefully, you can find your own source of relaxation at work. I know I have. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. Sincerely, Captain America

Four years of memories rushed back as Tony read the rival paper. Even as they competed with each other, Steve had watched out for Tony. Those late college nights often involved a midnight pizza delivery or coffee runs together. They were special moments, some of Tony’s favorites. And Steve had just throw those memories to the public without a care of who could connect the dots! Because it didn’t take a genius to remember Tony’s spring-break-week-turned-month in Barbados a few years back. He had been a new CEO and it made the front page of every paper, including the Shield Chronicle and Stark Times.

“Relaxation at work my ass.” Tony knew Rogers juggled the advice column with a busy investigative schedule, but he always knew his old rival was something of a hypocrite. At least some things don’t change. “Want to be petty, Stevie? Because two can play at that game.”

Dear Ladder-er, The key to all success is confidence. Go to your boss, be direct, and be proud of what you’ve done. Those late nights in the office are worth a lot. Whatever you do, don’t be passive aggressive about it, because it’s not clever and everyone will see right through what you’re doing. If you have something to say, say it to their face. XOXO, Iron Man

The publication went out a day later, and the following week, The Chronicle had another letter responded to.

Dear Captain America, I’m starting high school next month. My friends are all excited, but everything is changing. They wear different clothes now, listen to different music. One of my friends even dyed her hair! I don’t want to get left behind, but I like my clothes and music. If high school is anything like the movies, without my friends I’ll be eaten alive. I can’t lie to them, I’m no good at lying. How do I change who I am? From, Metamorphosis 

Dear Meta, The only answer I have for your question is: don’t. Don’t change yourself. True friends will accept you no matter what you wear or listen to. You should always be true to yourself. If not, you could end up like Iron Man over at Stark Times, he’s a shallow copy of what he thought he was supposed to be and I don’t think he’s very happy like that. You should do what makes you happy and friends will naturally follow. Sincerely, Captain America

“That bitch!” Tony throws his tablet across his office, the digital copy of the Chronicle still on the screen.

“What did Everhart say this time?” Pepper says calmly, voice carrying between the doors of their respective workplaces.

“Not her. That idiot at the Chronicle is slandering me!”

“It’s not slander if it’s not your real name.”

Tony huffs at that, but goes to pick up his tablet. Much more satisfying to throw than physical newspaper would be, especially since he wouldn’t be caught dead giving money to that sham of a reporting group. At least the tablet was sturdy.

“Alright Rogers, I can do high school drama.”

Dear Iron Man, Help!! The school musical is in three days and my co-star just quit! It can’t possibly be my fault; he was acting like a jerk while we rehearsed. Never memorized his lines, always showing up late, I couldn’t stand it!  I’ll admit, I said some harsh things, but he was mean right back! Now the director wants me to apologize to him. Should I? Thanks, Broadway Bound

Dear Broadway, Tell that little bitch-

 “Tony we can’t publish that.”

“I am the CEO, I can publish whatever I want!”

“Tony.”

“Fine.”

Dear Broadway, Apologizing is a hard thing to do, but it’s also an art form. You need this co-star for the show, and you need your director to keep you in a positive light. If something mean was said, apologizing is the right thing to do. You’ll look like the bigger person. Someone who isn’t petty is always someone successful. You wouldn’t want to end up like Captain America over at Shield Chronicle, who is incredibly petty. Someone like that is a real asshole-

“Tony, please.” 

Someone like that is a real jerk, and you’re better than that, Broadway. Break a leg! XOXO, Iron Man

The columns continue for weeks, each becoming slightly less related to the original problem of the anonymous sender. The letters coming in start to change in nature, whatever issue is presented acting as a pretty obvious front of indulging the Iron Man VS Captain America feud.

“Look man,” James Rhodes was from sales, but Rhodey was Tony’s long time coffee companion.  They walked out of the Starbucks down the street together as the lunch hour was ending. “I don’t know what your deal is with the guys at Chronicle, but our reader numbers are higher than ever since your column got stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Tony grumbles, “He’s stupid.”

 “You’re both stupid, but stupid sells so keep doing whatever you’re doing.”

Whatever Tony was doing takes an interesting twist when the papers come out at the start of the week. Both Stark Times and Shield Chronicle’s advice columns happen to feature the same letter, but with very different responses from the two papers.

I love my job. It’s stressful, but I’m good at it. I enjoy a challenge, but sometimes I can only take so much. Recently, my work partner has been acting stranger than usual. He’s always a workaholic, but there are weeks where I’m pretty sure he’s worn the same suit every day. He’s always loud and obnoxious, but I can hear him ranting even when I close my office door. He’s obsessed with this new project and I’m happy for him, but I need to keep my own sanity. Every time I try to bring it up politely with him, he doesn’t seem to pay attention. He’s a bit of a news junky, so I thought writing in to the paper could help. Also, he keeps stealing my leftovers in the office fridge and I need him to know I’m not happy about it. Regards, Red Hot Chili 

Dear Red Hot, I truly hope your coworker will read my response. His behavior is absolutely unacceptable in the workplace, no matter how brilliant or important his work may be. No matter the job, everyone needs to go home and sleep. If his behavior continues, see if you can take it higher up. But if even the CEO wont listen, I’m afraid you’ll have to tune him out. Try some good headphones and your favorite album. I recommend Mumford and Sons. Or perhaps you can move his office. This guy sounds a lot like ol’ Iron Man, and those types love a dimly lit basement to overwork themselves in. That type also has a low spice tolerance; next time, spike your chili with jalapeños. Sincerely, Captain America

Dear Chili Pepper, If this guy buys you lunch for the next week and closes his own door more often, do you think you could forgive him? XOXO, Iron Man

Pepper seemed content to dig into the chili Tony brought her as they worked late the following evening. “I expect a Louis Vuitton sized bonus this month,” She says around her fork, “They have some new pumps I was looking at.”

“Consider it done. Did you really have to write in to both papers though?” He stabs his fork into his own bowl of chili. Pepper just shrugs.

“Be lucky I’m not actually moving you to the basement.”

Tony laughs. Despite his higher position in the company, they both know she could very well have his office moved through various means. Between bites, he looks at the Chronicle again, the ink of the paper seeming to itch itself onto his skin.

“You didn’t say anything about my work being brilliant, though.”

Pepper looks up at Tony’s non-sequitur, before a fond smile crosses her face. “Well it is, but no, I didn’t.”

Dear Captain America,

Do you believe that time heals all wounds? The last time I spoke to a person in my life, we left on poor terms. This person is now coming back into my life in an admittedly strange way. He’s still the same stubborn, reckless jerk I remember, still the same funny and charming guy too. Aside from Mumford and Sons, how can start again with him? XOXO, Heart of Gold

Though the letter Tony sends to the Chronicle never gets published, his own submissions box gets a response the next day.

Dear Iron Man, How does a date sound? Sincerely, Stubborn Solider

[tarafinalmajorproject]

Final Evaluation:

As I sit here in lockdown it’s hard to believe what life was like at the start of this year when we first began this module, being in University and not knowing what was about to come ahead of us. I started the year on a rocky start as a result of my hospital visit on the final week of the previous semester, still being ill and not sure when I was going to recover made me worried and anxious about how this semester would plan out and whether I’d manage to the best of my ability like I usually would. I came up with a proposal, one in which would be a pocket assistant for those suffering from chronic illness. I knew there was scope to this proposal, however the scope would quickly run out because healthcare is something in which I have previously worked on in Level 5 and therefore basically already knew the answer to the problem before even starting it.

I had a week or so going back and forward with myself, thinking of different concepts and ideas in which I could base my final project on however none seemed to be that challenging of a problem for me. I had the solution already just from thinking of the idea, I was coming up with ideas and problems which were built on already thought out solutions. It’s important to note the timing of this semester whereby the COVID-19 pandemic was already well established within China and all travel to and from there was suspended from the University. This is when Mark came to me with a real life problem, how can teaching be conducted when the teachers are unable to go across to China to give their lectures, and more so, how will this plan out for students in which are already within the UK. This problem basically meant that half the students were in China which has a time difference of around 7 hours to the UK and the other half were here in the UK. Meaning lectures were near enough impossible to plan out where everyone was free to join.

This however, wasn’t the only problem within this project it was infact one of many as the pandemic began rapidly spreading within the UK making situations here at home very different to what it was when we first returned to University. This created a lot of uncertainty to everyone as to how this would eventually plan out before the inevitable did eventually happen in March when the UK declared a lockdown. This not only meant that not only all UK learning moved remotely, but also meant that the students in which I was working with within this brief were now either stranded, trying to get home when flights were being cancelled across the board and then the ones who eventually did make it home had to go into quarantine in hotels or hospitals set up by the Chinese governments. This created greater restraint now in terms of teaching group lectures as the UK classes were split into two with the 7 hour time difference but there was also probably a bigger more stressful problem for these students who were unable to get home, stressing about finding flights and them being cancelled all to be put in complete isolation when they do eventually reach home.

Another problem was the restraints in technology, the Great Firewall of China created various barriers in terms of what services students could access to for remote learning. The current form of communications across all students and lecturers was WeChat as all had access to it and there was the ability for calling, sharing files and communications within it. However, this in itself had its constraints. It was perfect for out of hours communications and sharing however for full remote learning many felt that it wasn’t the best platform. For example when someone does share a file within a group chat, this doesn’t go in a folder or anything, if they want to access it again they have to scroll up the whole chat in order to find it. WeChat however does have mini programs which are essentially apps within an app and includes ones such as WeDrive (similar to Google Drive) Tencent Meeting (used as the video calling service) and WeDoc (which is essentially Microsoft Word). Moreover, it wasn’t as simple as just finding another service in which has everything all in one place and allows lecturers to regain some control, this was because of the Great Firewall where there’s strict regulations as to what people within China can access via the internet. Therefore the solution had to be one in which didn’t require a VPN for students to access.

Another example of problems within this is the internet and WIFI restraints within China, they do not have access to high fibre WIFI and that meant that having video links wasn’t going to be easy due to the slower internet speeds which has the potential to cause lags, connection problems and disconnections which on a whole can make the process of remote learning more stressful and time consuming as to what it would be if it was face-to-face learning.

I feel I could list the problems in which I had to have in mind when finding a solution to this problem so I feel the best way to show them is to summarise below:

The Great Firewall of China and it’s restraints on what can be accessed by Chinese students and what could be created within these guidelines.

WIFI restraints within China meaning poorer connections.

Different whereabouts of students at different stages of the lockdown.

Time differences between the UK and China.

The effects of lockdown on students.

Cultural expectations and differences between countries.

The blur between professional and personal life which has been caused by the use of WeChat (many want this blur to be removed according to my primary research earlier in this blog).

Constraints of live lectures (having to screen share but the quality being in LQ so you cannot see the fine details of what lecturers are showing.

The inability to hand in work over WeChat and share feedback efficiently.

The inability to see attendance of who’s viewed pre-recorded lectures and content which has been uploaded.

My initial solution to the problem was to create a sub app to WeChat called WeLearn, this would essentially have all of the features in which both lecturers and students want such as submissions, attendance, shared file folders, announcements etc and putting them all within one app. I wanted to follow the theory of least astonishment when creating this and keep it within the WeChat family and therefore have a familiar feel and look as the app so many are used to, whilst also being an easy route into making sure the application would follow the firewall of China guidelines. The app would bring in not only professional communication communications which would be set apart from personal, but also be a outlet for submissions and feedback, meetings and lectures and a file portal all within the same app. This would hopefully minimise the amount of applications both students and lecturers are having to use in order to teach and learn effectively.

However when researching more about the topic area before I created this application I came across an app called WeChat Work, which essentially was the same principle as what I was aiming for within WeLearn. I therefore felt it was best here to change my strategy slightly as to reinventing a whole new application based on the same foundations as WeChat and rebrand the user journey of the already existing WeChat Work. This meant that  I had to conduct detailed backwards engineering of the application to see how it works, what features it has within it and what if any problems were there within it. On initial inspection I felt the user journey was very long winded and had a lot of features within it that education sectors wouldn’t necessarily need to function. Moreover, the languages within it went between Chinese to English and meant that I needed the help off Kris to translate these sections of the app for me.

Therefore as a solution I wanted to minimise the user journey of the application and I feel the best way in which I could do this would be to section off education sectors and professional sectors. It seems the app can be used for both of these and therefore the features aren’t used or needed by either or at some times. Therefore I feel it would be best to prompt the user to state which one they are and in turn the features and user journey would be tailored towards that. Moreover the UI of the application would be kept consistent and familiar to WeChat with only some changes to the navigation at the bottom of the app and the branding of it which would follow my initial WeLearn branding as per research suggested. I also as per communications with both lecturers and students decided to have the platform across both mobile and tablet/desktop. This would suit everyone’s needs and learning and teaching habits and therefore be fully accessible to all that is using it.

To summarise the project, I conducted a survey with some lecturers on how their experience has been within remote teaching and whether my project did actually hit some of the problems in which they may have had these last months. It was apparent that there was some problems present with remote learning surrounding areas such as attendance, network signal and time differences. These are all something In which I already had assumptions of problems in which could be created by remote learning when I was coming up with a solution, therefore it is somewhat a relief to see they actually are and are something in which my solution could hopefully help relieve.

I really enjoyed this module and the live brief I had the opportunity to work on, I feel it really made me open up on research and problem solving and therefore I can see some clear improvements within my work more so than I would have if I’d have stuck with my initial proposal.

As this is my last module before finishing 3rd Year and this degree I’d also like the opportunity of this evaluation to thank Mark for all his help and support these last 3 years.  He’s always been there to help whenever needed and really made University and unforgettable experience. Looking back now on my briefs I can see how much I have actually improved over the years and I really do feel it’s down to him and his help. I feel I am now set for the future of whatever is held for me and I really hope I can still help out in any way on his courses when needed in the future. Thank you Mark.

[albino-ottsel]

Alpacas As Pets?

If you're going to personal alpacas, you're going to wish at the least one, safe pasture to keep them in. And if you purchase alpacas of both sexes, you'll want at least two! Pastures for alpacas would possibly want a bit more consideration than different livestock. Some factors to think about may be:- Pasture location. Pasture visibility. In case you have the option, try to put your pasture inside straightforward commentary of your own home. Saves numerous working again-and-forth while you hear the alpaca alarm call! Pasture measurement. How many alpacas do you suppose you'll have? Dry-lot or Grazing. When you have grass in your pasture, and count on to graze your alpacas during the rising season, you'll wish to you'll want to have a large enough subject. Should you dry-lot (no grass), you may need to be sure to allow sufficient room for train. Shade. In case your pasture would not allow for pure shade, you may need to consider this when constructing your barn.- Poisonous Plants.

However, it could have appeared to some that on the time I wasn't as happy with our results as I am now declaring. Permit me to clarify. As quickly because the present crew was chosen I have been combating with myself. I've been attempting to maintain my feet on the bottom and never get carried away with my imaginings. Sadly I've as soon as again failed miserably, its the same yearly. When I am awake I am constantly day dreaming in regards to the team winning every thing regardless of making an attempt to cease myself. Irrespective of how laborious I attempt I simply can't see something aside from a clean sweep of first places. It is de facto, really irritating. I even tell people that we can't do properly but secretly inside I'm picturing myself surrounded by ribbons and rosettes. Severely, second place by no means even enters my head! As a result I'm all the time disenchanted if we do not get awarded first place (and I am certain that I am not alone). I can say be satisfied with our results. And let's not neglect there have been several present teams on the futurity that were nearly double the size of the whole Patou herd! So we return to struggle another day, very proud of our little group, our Mighty little Patou Present workforce! Now to the next show, Alpaca 2012 in just a few weeks at the Hand Equestrian Centre. I'm already planning complete domination!

Discovering new issues around you and simply appreciating the beauty of nature in quiet bliss is quite a uncommon expertise nowadays. Writer: Peter In this article you will know more details about how and where to study pc animation in nowadays. Publisher: Joseph Simpsone Animation software program to obtain totally free ,the question is , is it actually free? What is an offshore umbrella company 2. Why We need To regulate Plastic Waste? Causes for Selecting the best Consultant of China Imports four. Studying Concerning the Metal Fabrication Course of 5. Finding a good Locksmith Made Easy With Simple Tips 6. Tokyo International - Actavis, Warner Buyout. A brief Dialogue On The Versatility Of Polyester Fabrics eight. The significance of fine thriller shopping 9. Different Applications of Thermal Spray 10. White rice and white rice recipes! Microsoft’s Search Engine Bing Celebrates Its fifth Birthday 2. 4 Causes to Have Loyalty Program to Retain Prospects three. Greatest Resume Writing Companies: What is Most Very best for You? I have been waiting for this cria since 2008 when we first purchased Bellesa from Evergreen Elegant Alpacas in Indiana. She was bred to the well-known gray import Macusani in 2008, but aborted the cria over the winter. For the final 2 months, we've been watching Bellesa very fastidiously ready for her to ship. As I discussed earlier, we had deliberate on a much earlier cria. I was starting to get apprehensive once she hit 360 days. Her belly was big and you may really feel the cria by simply putting your hand on her aspect or belly. The cria was large and out of room! Her milk bag has additionally been huge, almost like a cow udder, for about 2 months. She had additionally been laying round a lot and moving slowly the last 2 months. We had been watching her carefully for signs of distress, like rolling and kicking her stomach which might point out uterine torsion (when the uterus flips over itself and delivery is inconceivable). We had also been monitoring to verify the cria was nonetheless transferring in there.

But briefly. Firstly a twelve hour delay at Auckland Airport. The alpacas have been 'regarded after' on the airport however I don't really know what that meant. They then flew to Los Angeles and from there (I do not know the way lengthy they had been there but I do not think it was lengthy) they then flew to Luxembourg. From Luxembourg they were loaded onto a large livestock truck and trailer. The truck travelled in direction of Calais but broke down close to Paris. Once more what occurred to the alpacas and the way long they have been static for I simply do not know. They were then transported across the channel to Dover where they had been handled by the authorities, whatever meaning. The driver then set off for an alpaca farm near Milton Keynes to drop off some alpacas before heading for Baydon. He was stopped by the Police and every part was checked. Apparently a three hour journey took ten hours. Have you been contemplating about how to lift backyard chickens however simply cannot push by way of with the project as a result of you are not certain whether your investments and efforts will all be worth it? Eggs are considered one of the commonest ingredient when baking or cooking Alpaca Gallery of Alpacas Cria black stud alpacas meals. Thus, if you have your own chickens that lay eggs, then you can simply choose them up within the coop everytime you want one. The smartest thing about this is that you realize where the eggs came from so you can make sure that they are nutritious and protected to eat. Additionally, as these are real recent eggs that have been harvested from your personal yard, the product can be greater egg yolks which are wealthy in style. The second pointer about how to boost yard chickens is you get all-pure organic eggs and chicken meat. All-pure is usually equal to being wholesome so this is sweet for you. Since you've personally cared for the chickens, you might be conscious that there are not any chemicals or artificial meals that has ever been fed to the chickens. So you may make certain that your rooster's eggs and meat are completely protected and healthy to eat.

After we allow them to out of the pen and they realized that they'd entry to a totally new pasture, they had been able to occasion. You can see some of the girls running full out, and others fortunately pronking. The Black Pearl is the primary one pronking and leaping in the foreground (she’ll be two in Oct, but continues to be very much slightly lady in character). At the tip, the brown alpaca that falls behind everyone seems to be Silhouette. She is our solely Peruvian born alpaca and is now 18 years old. She has slowed down a bit, however nonetheless enjoys a run with the girls every now and then. These videos are all up on Peaceful Coronary heart Alpacas Fb Page. You may find they are quicker to look at from there. Visit our web page and Like it to be the first to see updates to our calendar, new pictures and different news. New Yr's Day, a leisure travel, a drop-in to the friend's house, or a celebrating celebration? Effectively, I guess regardless of the place you'll go or what you'll do, elevating the camcorder and recording the fantastic moments are what you need. With the multiple video clips, it's possible you'll wish to edit them for the highest quality. Then if you are a Mac consumer, iMovie is certainly the very best video editing software software for you. Apple iMovie is the nice software program to organize, edit, share clips and stabilize shaky clips on Mac. With this video editing device, Mac customers can edit the video clips, add titles, add music, apply effects (primary coloration correction and video enhancement tools) and transitions similar to fade-in, fade-out and slides. Nevertheless, videos from Panasonic, Canon and Sony's HDR-SR and so forth AVCHD camcorders are with M2TS extension. Although iMovie claims to be compatible with M2TS files from Panasonic HDC-HS300, Sony DCR-SR47, Canon VIXIA and so forth, however many Mac users have downside in importing M2S files to iMovie, particularly uncooked M2TS recordsdata, since iMovie just can not acknowledge their camcorders.