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cordria · 3 years

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Rewrite an episode: The Ultimate Enemy

While there is a lot of good stuff in this episode, there have always been three things that bothered me:

1. Nobody would cheat on a career aptitude test.

2. Clockwork doesn’t have totally clear reasoning for pulling Danny in to do this. We’ve fanon-ed things in, but the episode sort of pulls a catch-22 on this. I realize they use the plot hammer of the observants thinking Danny will become evil, but let’s put some actual thought into the reasoning here.

3. Danny has little actual responsibility for the creation of Dan. This cuts down on the angst - and also how the episode hits in a moral sense.

So I wanted to ‘fix it’ while keeping the large brush-strokes the same. Read on for my thoughts.

(Assume proper foreshadowing of these, were I rewriting the entire series.)

Story opens with Danny struggling with frustration and anger that has been building. Not to a personality-change level, but more to a ‘there’s realistic consequences for his actions and he’s frustrated with it’ level. He’s frustrated about his grades and detentions. He’s angry with Val for continuing to hunt him. He’s tired and getting angry with his parents for not listening to him.

An actual high-stakes test is coming up - let’s make it a placement test for whatever the IB/College in the Schools this universe has. In order to even have a chance at being accepted into the astronomy program Danny’s been eyeing, he has to get into the honors-level science and math classes in high school. Which means he has to pass this test.

He comes up with a plan to study. Sam and Tucker and Jazz try to help. Whenever he gets a chance to focus and study, it’s clear he has the knowledge to pass. He’s acing the questions, quick answers, etc. But the ghosts are on a rampage, and Danny’s study times always get cut short.

Morning of the test arrives and Danny is a mess. He’s exhausted from dealing with a ghost all night, his brain feels like mush, and there’s zero chance of him passing this must-pass test. Frustrated at the ghosts and angry about the situation (because he would have passed easily without the ghosts!), he makes a choice. He sneaks into the school using his ghost powers and deliberately steals a copy of the test. Not the answers, because that’s stupid. None of the testing companies would give a school a copy of the answers even with a gun pointed at their heads.

So he brings the test home and looks up the answers before school starts. He waves it off by saying if his ghost powers were going to cause him to fail, he should be allowed to use his ghost powers to pass.

Deliberate choice to cheat.

Enter Box Lunch attacking the school before the test starts (which delays the test to the next day) so Danny ends up with the time medallion, and Skulk-Tech shows up which clues Danny-and-crew into what the time medallion does. Head over to Clockwork as per the actual episode, and Danny sees his future. Sees Dan and the destruction that was caused. The fact that Danny is choosing to cheat and using his frustration to manipulate things makes his comment about Dan looking cool more ominous.

Again, Danny-and-crew end up in the future and run into Valerie. Sam and Tucker head home and Danny gets tossed into the ghost zone. There, he confronts the ghostly results of his anger. They attack him and he can’t fend them off. But he’s listening, and he hears how he destroyed their lives, and he feels bad. He wants to go back and fix things - but he needs them to leave him alone to do that. So he finds his Ghostly Wail.

Yada, yada, he ends up at future-Vlad’s place. Vlad does the recap - only it’s a bit different. Instead of some freak accident, Danny ended up continuing to allow his frustration and anger to make bad choices. Danny slowly twisted into a person that freaks even Vlad out. Angry all the time and willing to use his ghost powers to subdue whatever caused that anger.

Vlad chose to remove Danny’s ghost when Danny is in his early twenties, in a bid to prevent Danny from getting worse, and with the assumption that Phantom would disintegrate without a body holding it in place. Phantom didn’t, and freed from whatever humanity Danny’s mind had left, attacked Vlad. So we, again, get a human-Vlad and creepy-Danny/Vlad ghost combo known as Dan. Begin epic destruction of both worlds for the next several years.

Vlad removes the time medallion, Danny ends up back in their normal time. Dan has been behind the scene orchestrating some destruction, setting in motion a bid to utterly destroy Danny in the present time and continue to wreak his anger-filled havok on this new world. While he was gone, Maddie, Jack, Lancer, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker ended up learning that Danny cheated on the test.

They corner Danny (not at the Nasty Burger - it never made any sense for them to meet at the Nasty Burger in the first place) and Danny starts to react with frustration and anger. It’s not his fault he’s not getting any sleep, and didn’t get time to study, and it’s not fair that all his future dreams rest on this one test.

Dan attacks. The humans are kidnapped and locked up at the Nasty Burger. Danny follows, trying to fight Dan. Angry at Dan, Danny isn’t able to access his new power. It’s not until he lets go of that anger (Star Wars reference, right?), and is attacking to save his family from destruction, that he can finally use it to subdue Dan and lock him away in a Thermos.

Of course, Danny is too slow, as per the show, and Clockwork has to step in to prevent the death and destruction and ends up resetting the time stream.

It’s the morning of the test, Danny is still exhausted and a mess, and he gets to make a new choice. No cheating. Instead he goes and talks to Lancer about how he’s not been sleeping and didn’t have the time to study like he needed, and Lancer lets him take the make-up test the following week.

Lesson learned - talk through your problems, get help when you need, and don’t wallow in anger and frustration.

Oh, and Dan comes up again in some later episode. Because why create such a wonderful example of angst and never use it again.

Anywho, that’s my thoughts on how I’d rewrite this one. :)

#danny phantom #rewrite an episode #it's fun to imagine how I'd redo things if given control of it #there'd be a lot more angst #and consistency

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

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dream clouds, ghost ground (real friends, dead hometown)

an accidental jangobi au

( and also @batsutousai and @the-mandalorian-clone-lover but it won’t let me tag you :(

i uhhhhhh plotted this from my prompt roster without rereading the actual ask, so this is completely out of timeline for the anon’s prompt? and i didn’t realise until i was halfway through?? so here’s this??? i already have ideas for a sequel???? (and it’s 3157 words gl)

some context: there’s no age-out, but obi-wan is still sent to the agricorp and stays there. yarael poof inspects the facility 7 years later, and obi has visions of korda 6/galidraan and finagles themself onto the rescue mission of the true mandalorians. cue chaotic, still-has-the-impulsivity-that-got-them-kicked-out obi-wan. who is also nb just for funsies.

title from start//end by eden

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not as Yarael had expected, but then, he had never met them while they lived in the Temple.

The young Jedi breaks away from their group of friends on the other side of Bandomeer’s main greenhouse as soon as they catch sight of Yarael, the other novitiates trying and failing to hold Obi-Wan back from running through the dark green garden beds right up to him. They don’t seem to care that they’ve interrupted Master Fodvam’s tour of the facility, and ignores her to glare at Yarael with a fire in their eyes that he vaguely remembers as being the cause for their failing the initiate program. Stocky and toned with dark freckles on every bit of exposed skin from working the desert Enrichment Zones, Obi-Wan glares up at Yarael with a set to their lips so very like Master Yoda (and Qui-Gon Jinn, for that matter) that Yarael raises a placating hand to the Kubaz master at his side and smiles back down at Obi-Wan.

At first flush, he might have thought Obi-Wan approached him to beg to be allowed to return to the Temple and become a knight —it would not be the first time an old initiate had done so, though they usually attempted such an action much sooner after their reassignment— but instead, Obi-Wan wastes no time in demanding, “You have to go Korda 6, the lives of thousands depend on it.”

“And why is that, young one?” Yarael returns calmly, though Obi-Wan must be pushing seventeen standard; everyone is young to him these days.

Master Fodvam sighs, reaching out to put a hand on Obi-Wan’s arm, but they shake her off. “Obi-Wan,” she admonishes softly, for all the good that does.

“There’s going to be a genocide,” Obi-Wan insists over the sound of their friends trying to call them back across the greenhouse, “Death Watch is going to kill the Mand’alor and slaughter the True Mandalorians, and no one here will listen to me.”

Curious about their absolute certainty, Yarael gently pushes against their mind, but has to jerk away when the Jedi shoves him right back out, Yarael’s second brain fizzling like it had been shocked by a bad power coupling. Perhaps Master Yoda had been too hasty in handing this one over to the Council of Reassignment, when even though Yarael can sense their fear and hurt, their lingering doubt in the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan has not a single crack in their shields. Not a single doubt in themselves.

Master Fodvam shakes her head, but it appears more out of a helplessness than disappointment. “Master Poof,” she says, “Novitiate Kenobi has spoken of this premonition for the last standard tenday, and I’m afraid none of the masters here are versed in the Unifying Force.”

“At all,” they stress.

Interesting indeed, that Master Yoda would nominate Obi-Wan for the Agricorp over the other branches, then, for surely they would have shown precognition as a crècheling. “Novitiate Kenobi, you clearly have complete faith in such a vision.” Yarael doesn’t try to enter their mind again, but does open his senses between them, benignly inviting Obi-Wan into his own instead. “Show me.”

Obi-Wan is bewildered for all of a moment, eyebrows pinched, but then they blink in understanding and snap their eyes closed. A flurry of images is all but shoved into Yarael’s lower brain, a confusing mash of forests and armor and blasterfire, but, yes, there is Vizsla, and there is Mereel, and there is a Mandalorian in blue armor leaving Mereel to die on the battlefield.

“How are you sure this is Korda 6?” Yarael asks, opening his eyes to Obi-Wan’s mentally-drained expression, tanned skin sallow under the freckles.

“I’ve heard some of the mission report,” they say, and let Master Fodvam gently support them where they had pushed her away before; Yarael will certainly have to teach Obi-Wan to strengthen their mental stamina. “Every night for the last tenday I’ve seen this battle, I’ve seen ten different ways it could go, and all of them end with the True Mandalorians’ slaughter, unless we do something.”

The Quermian looks Obi-Wan up and down once more, reaching as far into the Force as he can manage, and he doesn’t have a lifetime seat on the High Council for nothing.

“Then we’ve not a moment to lose, do we?”

If Obi-Wan is surprised Yarael insists on taking them to his ship to join him for his update to the Council, they don’t show it, and don’t appear nervous at all as the holocall connects. In fact, they stand off to the side with their arms behind their back and a serene expression on their face, right until Master Rancisis admits a contingent of Jedi had just left to help a planet deal with a violent insurgence of Mandalorian commandos, led by Jango Fett.

And then Obi-Wan only blinks before turning his gaze up to Yarael. “Then we are too late for Korda 6. We must make for Galidraan.”

The holo of Master Rancisis flickers as he winds and unwinds his appendages until he finally says, “We did not tell you the planet’s name.”

On Rancisis’ left, Master Yoda taps his cane against the floor. “Clear it is, that truth in Novitiate Kenobi’s visions there is. To what extent, we do not know, but great pain I sense if act quickly we do not.”

After meeting each of the other coucilmember’s eyes, Master Rancisis leans forward in his seat and points one undulating finger at Obi-Wan. ”You will go with Master Poof to Galidraan, Novitiate Kenobi; if you leave now, you may make it in time to prevent the Jedi from having a hand in this massacre.”

Obi-Wan checks with Yarael first, their deference almost endearing as they look up at him for confirmation; Yarael cannot help a small smile, and if the Council has not guessed his intentions by now, then they are as blind as a naked womp-rat. “Well, Novitiate Kenobi?” he prompts, “Are you prepared to see this through properly?”

Obi-Wan drops their shoulders to raise their chin instead. “To be truthful, Master Poof, I would have been disappointed to be left behind.”

Obi-Wan is already at the hatch of Master Poof’s cruiser when they finally land as close to the coordinates the Council had given them as they dare, and Obi-Wan sorely wishes they had asked Master Fodvam for a blaster before leaving Bandomeer. Nothing can be done for that now, and there is the more pressing matter that Master Poof had been unable to contact the Jedi already planetside, but perhaps they shouldn’t have expected the Force to make it easy on them.

As soon as the cruiser is settled, Obi-Wan elbows the control panel for the landing hatch and drops right down into the snow; they’re not quite dressed for this weather, not coming straight from the desert Enrichment Zone, but they can hardly feel the cold over the cloying, suffocating fear that saturates the air until even the trees tremble with it. And they might be stronger in the Unifying Force than anyone else in the Agricorp, but Obi-Wan hasn’t been wrist-deep in soil for seven years to come out of it without feeling the Living Force just as strongly.

Run, the trees tell them, and they do, pushing themself up onto more compact snow and taking off for the True Mandalorian camp. Master Poof calls after them, but they don’t slow until they reach the top of the nearest ridge, a sheer drop on the other side right into the camp, and Obi-Wan is forced to look out over their worst vision come to life.

The Mandalorians stand as one facing the opening to the ravine on Obi-Wan’s right, where the Jedi spread out among the tents as Master Dooku reads them a list of false wrongs, and Obi-Wan knows the Mandalorians will not surrender. Mand’alor Mereel’s son stands before Dooku in newly-painted blue and red armor, raising his blaster as Dooku ignites his ’saber, and Master Poof halts abruptly at Obi-Wan’s side and lifts a four-fingered hand, but he won’t be able to Force-suggest anyone in beskar, and—

And he has a lightsaber hanging from his belt.

Obi-Wan had not failed their Jedi training, they were bright and talented and wanted absolutely nothing more than to become a Jedi Knight, but their temper had seen Bruck to the Halls of Healing, and their impulsivity had seen them to the Agricorp despite the potential they had shown in their seven years in the crèche.

Their temper, they have control over that now, Obi-Wan is rarely even angry these days, but their impulsivity has been the, ah... cause for many of the Bandomeer masters’ grey hairs, so to speak.

So Obi-Wan does not think before grabbing Master Poof’s ’saber, barely able to even lift the hilt almost as long as their arm, and leaps from the crumbling snowbank with as much Force behind their feet as they can muster. Sound snaps to silence in their ears, vision narrowing on the scant yard between Jango Fett and his death, as Obi-Wan yanks the Living Force around themself and hauls it up right from the ground, grabs it by the roots of the nearest tree until it sings.

By a miracle of the Force, Obi-Wan lands perfectly between the new Mand’alor and the Jedi, igniting Master Poof’s unusually-yellow lightsaber just in time to deflect Jango’s first blaster bolt right into the ground — the ground that shakes and splits, exploding snow into the air to make way for the evergreen roots that surge through the cracks and grab Dooku’s entire arm, sending his ’saber flying.

Obi-Wan inhales once, twice, before allowing their other senses to flood back to them, and the Force sees fit to immediately make them aware of Master Poof stumbling down the bank after them with his upper hands raised in surrender.

“Peace, Jedi!” he shouts, successfully pulling the gaze of everyone in the ravine away from Dooku’s limb held aloft by mud-slick roots and to himself instead. “We have been misled,” he presses on, almost seeming to glide over the packed snow to stand at Obi-Wan’s back and place a palm between their shoulders, “These Mandalorians know nothing of what you speak, Master Dooku, we are both being played by the Governor of Galidraan.”

Jango Fett growls over his external comms, close enough to make Obi-Wan shiver. “What the kriffing fuck is going on?” he snaps, not bothering to drop his blaster as Obi-Wan glances at him and can just see the shadow of his eyes behind his visor.

“Death Watch had the governor call the Jedi here under false pretences, your grace,” Obi-Wan says, and doesn’t know what to make of the way the Mand’alor twitches at their voice. They can feel their shoulder weakening from hefting such a massive hilt, unwieldy even gripped at the balance point, but Obi-Wan refuses to let their arm shake, not with both sides holding them under such scrutiny; Maker, maybe they should have changed into Jedi robes instead of their dark tunics and kama? It gives them a silhouette neither wholly Mandalorian nor wholly Jedi, and certainly only adds to the confusion.

Nothing to be done about it now.

“The governor lied to the Mandalorians about their targets, to perfectly set them up for a Jedi arbitration,” Master Poof explains. “And of course knew that the Mandalorians would never surrender to the Jedi.” He looks slowly around at both parties, letting his words sink in until the Jedi are shutting their lightsabers off in disgust.

The Mandalorians don’t put away their blasters, obviously, but they do lower them enough to be an act of good faith; only when Jango lowers his own does Obi-Wan power down Master Poof’s ’saber, and is all too happy to hand the weighty thing back to him with a shallow bow.

Master Poof smiles in amusement, clipping the hilt back in its rightful place on his belt, before calmly nodding to Dooku. “Novitiate, you may release Master Dooku now.”

Startled, Obi-Wan immediately calls on the Living Force to pull the roots away from the man and coax them back into the ground, hoping they hadn’t damaged anything enough for the evergreen just up the ridge to suffer.

Dooku massages his red wrist and eyes Obi-Wan carefully, the clouds of breath before his lips casting strange shadows over his face in the dying sunlight. “I was not aware the Agricorp was still teaching Consitor Sato to its novitiates. Nor so... successfully.”

“... Master Fodvam would appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to the High Council.”

“I am on the Council, Novitiate Kenobi,” Master Poof chortles, but turns back to the Mandalorians still effusing bewilderment before the new Mand’alor can decide they really are all better off dead. “Mand’alor Fett, I presume?”

Jango shifts subtly, still close enough for Obi-Wan to watch his eyes dart to the Quermian. “For all of a week, jetii; how you are aware of this already does nothing to convince me to trust you. Any of you.”

Master Poof just smiles serenely. “There is little one cannot gather from the Force upon first meeting, your grace. However, you are correct, and I would not be aware of Jaster Mereel's death if my companion had not told me of it.”

Jango doesn't get the chance to ask him to clarify just what that means, the girl padawan at Dooku's side cutting in rudely,

“And Master Poof, just who is your companion?” as if she can’t tell from Obi-Wan’s attire that they were a Jedi Knight washout.

So maybe Obi-Wan doesn’t have complete mastery of their temper just yet, but they don’t get to snarl back before Master Poof answers cheerfully, "They are my new apprentice!"

Oh.

“Master Poof...?”

“I cannot very well leave a novitiate so strong in the Unifying Force untrained, can I?” Master Poof shakes his head. "As the matter stands, our duty to Galidraan is not yet complete: the governor has pulled both the Jedi and the Senate into his personal affairs, and has allied with a known terrorist group. Master Dooku, might I suggest we make to arrest the actual perpetrator of these crimes?”

“Vizsla will be there,” Jango interrupts. “And he must know his plan has failed by now, you'll be walking right into a trap.”

Obi-Wan raises a brow. “A trap meant for you, your grace. When we engage Governor Martinet, it would be unwise for the True Mandalorians to still be on planet.”

“Why do you keep calling us that?" he snaps, the blue-armoured Mandalorian at his side grabbing his shoulder to hold him back from... striking Obi-Wan? From removing his helmet? Obi-Wan isn't sure.

They are sure that, if the Jedi succeed in apprehending Vizsla, the New Mandalorians will make themselves known much earlier. “One day, soon, you will need to make the distinction between yourselves, and those that will use ‘Mandalorian’ as a ploy for cultural reform, as claim to an identity that is not theirs,” Obi-Wan says, finding Jango’s eyes behind his visor once more. “The Children of the Watch will choose ‘True’ as that distinction of your people in retrospect, some fifty years from now.”

The Mandalorian holding Jango’s shoulder tenses. “Are you some sort of prophet, kih’jetii?”

“Hardly,” they smile, because the Force promises to back off a little after this mess is all said and done, whenever that may be. “But the Force decided I was the most likely candidate to make it here in time to stop a genocide, though I’m not sure if it knew how much information I actually needed. Irregardless, everything from today is now changed from any visions I had seen of it, I’m no more a prophet than you are.”

Jango twitches again strangely, and his companion tightens their grip on their blaster.

“Novitiate Kenobi is right,” Poof interjects gently. “You should take your people to regroup and recover, your grace, you will be of no use to the galaxy dead.”

“Wait,” Jango grits through clenched teeth. “It would... be unfair for us not to aid you in this, not when this was our disaster, too.”

“There is no need for that,” Dooku says regally, Force-calling his ’saber back to his hand. “This has become a Senate matter, and to involve yourselves further would be an unnecessary risk.”

“So you... want us to just leave?”

Dooku raises a single eyebrow, expression blank otherwise, but Obi-Wan still shudders at the dark anger in the man, the rage that had hit its boiling point upon first meeting Jango and believing he had slaughtered almost two hundred innocent activists. The Force warns Obi-Wan about that darkness, the way Dooku has not yet released it; it also gives them hope, though, that the master can be pulled back into the light, with a little persuasion and lots of tea.

The conversation has moved on without them when Obi-Wan tries to focus back on the crisis at hand, Jango’s commandos already starting to pack up the camp while Dooku and Master Poof quietly discuss the Jedi’s next moves. Neither seem to have realised Obi-Wan hadn’t been paying attention, which is just fine by them: Master Fodvam is already at wit’s end trying to keep them focused on anything but plants, somedays.

A heavy gaze pulls their own to look up, across the camp to where Jango oversees his people’s retreat, but Obi-Wan knows the Mand’alor’s attention is on them alone. Obi-Wan gazes right back, refusing to the first to look away, and is somehow thrilled rather than disappointed when Jango does just that.

He does not say goodbye, but that’s alright, Obi-Wan knows they’ll be meeting again soon.

Following a stomping Jango up into Jaster’s old ship, Myles won’t stop laughing at him.

“‘The one who will speak of the truth,’” he quotes gleefully, just as jovial in his punching of Jango’s sides as he attempts to unbuckle his helmet, and he doesn’t back down even when his Mand’alor growls at him. “Kriff, who knew that witch would end up being so literal?”

“I told you I don’t believe in that osik,” Jango snaps, trying to shove his best friend off of him. “I don't believe in that old hag's ‘prophecy’ any more than I believe in Jedi competence.”

“Ah ah, Jang’alor, you shouldn’t speak of your ba’buir like that, what would Jaster say?”

Jango finally gets his helmet off and yanks his hood down so he can get right in Myles’ face to snarl, “That adiik is not the future of Mandalore, kriff whatever the fuck Jaster’s buir says! One dream and one crazy old enby witch spouting oracle nonsense does not make Obi-Wan Kenobi my destiny.”

Jango doesn’t need to see Myles’ face to know it lights up in victory. “Nobody said their full name, Jang’alor.”

“Finish that thought and I’ll throw you out the airlock.”

Mando’a:

Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore.

jetii — “Jedi” sing, pl. jetiise

kih'jetii — “Little Jedi”, highly offensive

osik — impolite form of “dung”, shit

ba'buir/e — “grandparent/s”, gender neutral

adiik — a child aged from 3 to 13, used here as an insult

Cansitor Sato — Traditional High Galactic for “Plant Surge”, a Living Force-related technique of controlling plants (usually vines) to ensnare or slow an enemy; in legends, this was taught to Agricorp members as well, headcanoned here to be usually only taught to master/older members.

Novitiate — personal headcanon for the form of address for non-master members of the Jedi Corps.

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missorgana · 3 years

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words hung above, but never would form

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: mcu, what if...?

rating: mature

word count: 3500

warning: swearing, alcohol, major character death, blood, guns

summary: What might've happened after the zombie apocalypse broke out, before the last team of heroes was formed, and how Bucky Barnes lost Sam Wilson. (pre-canon fic to what if... zombies!?)

(a few days ago i posted this very painful angst fic i thought of after the zombies episode of what if...? so here i am dropping it on tumblr as well!! i apologise, please know that it broke my heart to write this. uhm. that’s all!)

read on ao3

It’s been three months since they lost Steve.

Well, since the world lost most of the Avengers, really. And since the world lost most of its, uh, regular people anyway.

It’s a dark world full of shit and blood and brains out there now, yet Bucky’s taking his cold shower in the morning and cannot bring himself to care much. Sounds harsh, he knows.

He knew nothing of this new world and new time except his best friend, so of fucking course, Steve being… not Steve made him feel like there was no fucking point to anything. If the Avengers couldn’t beat this zombie virus? Yeah, there’s no hope for humanity anymore.

Except… except the man who greets him in the morning, handing him a plate of pancakes without even asking if he wanted some and pinning yet another red pin on their vastly growing map of ghost towns. Those are fully infected spots, by the way. Nothing left but the undead. The map is turning overwhelmingly red overwhelmingly fast.

The man hovering at said map also hands him his coffee, puts on one of the records from their LP stash, and smiles his sunny, stupid grin before ruffling Bucky’s hair and telling him he missed a spot.

Yeah, the world’s become even more of a dog eat dog world than before.

But Bucky Barnes’ got Sam Wilson. And nothing else matters.

It’s ironic really, that when he’s gotten out of cryo, that he’s finally rid of the Hydra programming and torture and pain he’s endured for years, and at the same time, someone somewhere got bitten and humanity’s become a walking all you can eat buffet. Perfect timing.

Of course, Steve’s never fled from a fight in his life, so honestly? Bucky can’t exactly say he’s surprised. He is- sorry, was an Avenger after all. The little shit.

What does surprise him, however, is finding himself growing closer to Sam, Steve’s friend who for some reason, somehow, was just as intent on finding him as Steve was. And… helping him. Saving him.

Bucky never understood why. He still doesn’t. He hates himself for everything they made him do, he’ll probably continue hating himself for as long as he lives, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but Sam doesn’t.

Sam fought for him, fought with him, visited him in Wakanda and took him back to a somewhat normal life before… you know. Now they’ve found a safehouse after losing everyone they had, except each other, and they’ve zombie-proofed to the best of their ability.

And life with Sam, well, Bucky could get used to it. In fact, he gets used to it very quickly.

Sam smiles so easily at him and doesn’t look at him like he’s a broken man who needs to be fixed. Sam doesn’t look at him with resentment, or pity, he just… looks at him.

It’s hard to explain.

Thing is, nothing makes sense. The violence that keeps on going and going doesn’t make sense, Bucky losing his best friend in the world doesn’t make sense, the streets being abandoned and houses vacant and survival being a constant factor in life now doesn’t make sense.

But the man he’s hiding out with makes sense. He makes so much sense. The only thing that makes sense anymore.

His existence is constant, he’s there for him when he lets him and when he doesn’t, he gives him space. The shorter man is as if the sun was living and breathing, and himself, well, he’s the moon. He’s just trying to stay in Sam's orbit.

Chasing after him. Circulating. Bashing in everything he’s willing to give him.

The scruffy beard he’s let grow, and him humming to himself while he’s working on Redwing, and the wheezing, carefree laugh he can’t stop when Bucky suggests they watch a zombie movie one night. He tells Sam not to overwork himself and he promises not to, and the other man tells him to let him know what’s going on in his head, and hell, Bucky tells him. He tells him everything.

In fact, it’s the same night they do watch a zombie movie, frequently pointing out the inaccuracies and turning it into a drinking game with the terrible, terrible booze they swiped from the supermarket, that he looks at the short haired man dozing off on his shoulder and realises that this is the most peace he’s ever had.

It’s basically an apocalypse outside, but Bucky can’t get himself to look away from Sam’s eyelashes fluttering lightly as he slips off to sleep.

Their legs are tangled into each other on the coffee table, the microwave popcorn long abandoned, one of his friend’s hands resting on his thigh.

His beard scratches his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Sam has asked him if he should shave it several times, but God no, never. That beard’s been doing a lot of things to him - all good, of course.

He turns down the volume a bit. Sam looks peaceful. He hasn’t been sleeping much, he knows neither of them have, and where’s the time for it, anyway? He’s glad he is now.

Bucky can’t get himself to move, fearing waking the short haired man from his slumber, and for a minute, the outside world is far, far away from their reality.

Sam looks incredibly soft in that ripped sweater and sweatpants and the snore he lets out is no less than adorable.

It’s like- he looks at this man, and suddenly it’s like everything just falls back into place.

He looks soft in the morning over breakfast and hazy eyes, soft in the evening when he says goodnight, soft when he’s clutching the photos of his nephews (AJ and Cass were their names, he’s learned), soft when he’s retelling a memory with his parents on the family boat, soft when they both muse about Steve and his dumb shenanigans.

He looks something entirely different when he’s shirtless out of the shower and tiny droplets still fall down his chest and abs and Bucky struggles to breathe, every damn time. He only realises now why that is.

Sam is like a sunset, because Bucky wants nothing more than to wake up to this man and nothing else every day, till the end of time. What more could he wish for?

He’s beautiful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s called anyone, or anything beautiful before.

Looking back, he can’t see anymore how they could argue and bicker and annoy each other, and doesn't understand why. He’s wasted so much fucking time doing that. Not anymore. He could never go back to that, it would most likely kill him. Steve would be thrilled if he could see them now, wouldn't he?

And while this realization dawns upon him, washing over him like the biggest wave you could possibly imagine, he wonders if Sam feels the same when he looks at him.

Does he feel safe falling asleep on his shoulder like this? Does he find everlasting comfort in his smile like he does in his, does he wake up hoping and praying to see his smile, just once? Does he do everything he can think of to make him look at him, like he tries every single day?

He can only dream.

Huh. So this is what it’s like to be in love. Bucky doesn’t hate it.

It’s only a month after his life-changing realization of the sort that couldn't make him concentrate on everything else, that Bucky decides today is the day. He’s going to confess his feelings for his friend.

And this is something in the middle of chaos, something he’s never experienced before. He’d never thought he’d practice his words in the mirror like a nervous teenager, but alas.

Sam Wilson, I’m in love with you. No. No, it’s too short. Think, James. What does he make you feel?

Sam, you’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Sam, I want to see you smile every day. Sam, I want to make you happy… as happy, as… happy as you make me.

Too long? Shit.

Sam, you’re the only good in this piece of shit world. I love you. Sam hates when he’s that pessimistic, though, and always tells him to cheer up, even in the middle of a zombie invasion. Another reason why he loves him.

Sam, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn't do to see you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

His stream of thought is interrupted by faint clanging in the kitchen of their safehouse. Bucky sighs. He’s not sure this is going to be perfect, he wants it to be.

He has to go, he has to try. Now or never.

Except… the smile he’s come to anticipate every single morning isn’t there to meet him. Instead, he sees Sam suited up, wing pack on his back, gloves on, looking through one of their many folders they’ve filled up with theories of the infection and safe spots and danger zones and everything else.

Bucky frowns, looks at him in silence for a moment. Maybe he’ll try a joke, “Going somewhere?”

His friend hums without looking, “I’m going to catch Steve.”

Sorry, what? What the fuck?

Sam did not just say what he thinks he said. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

This is why he blinks in disbelief, for the first time rendered speechless by the other man. Sam looks up at him, face glazed over by determination and confusion by his own reaction, most like. Then, worry overtakes his usually warm, deep brown eyes, ones that he could drown himself in and never come out of.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asks, and Bucky clenches his jaw.

“You’re going to… catch him,” he says, a statement rather than a question. It’s Sam’s turn to frown, but he nods.

“Yes. Catch him and bring him back.”

“You’re joking,” he laughs in sheer denial, but the seriousness in his friend’s face is scaring him, “Sam… tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Oh, this is just not happening. This world lets him fall in love with the most perfect person he knows and then lets that very same person be so fucking stupid?

Bucky can’t let him go. Bucky can’t lose him.

“What, then?” he asks, one hand on his hip, “Invite him over and let him eat our brains, just like that?”

“ Bucky. We’re going to catch him, and then we’ll cure him.”

He laughs, loudly. Okay, this is just hilarious. Sam Wilson is the most perfect person in this world exactly because of this- because he believes this world is still able to be saved. Because he believes it’s worth saving . Fucking hell.

“You found a cure you’re not telling me about?”

Sam sighs, scratching his chin, “Come on, Buck. I talked to Hope-”

“Who?”

“Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp,” the shorter man explains, “She lost her parents, and Scott Lang, remember?”

Bucky shrugs, but nods.

“Well, she’s been recruiting those of us who survived. Who’s left. And she thinks there might be a way to reverse the virus, her father brought it from the, uh… Quantum Realm.” Sam’s about to hand him one of the folders, but he crosses his arms, and shakes his head, then.

God, Bucky’s well aware how stubborn he is. Sam has told him plenty of times.

But he’ll be damned if he lets the man go just like that. He’s not letting him get hurt.

“That’s not happening,” he says shortly. His friend’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going after that thing.”

The man turns to him completely, wide-eyed and shock written all over his features. “ That thing? ” he huffs, “That thing is our friend.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the undead.”

“He’s not dead,” Sam says. His voice raised. He looks- he doesn't look soft anymore. There’s no trace of that smile that gives Bucky shivers down his spine. He looks… upset. He’s upset. Fucking shit.

Why can’t he- fuck , can he not try to be a fucking hero right now? That’s why Steve’s gone. Why can’t he see that?

“You’re being irrational,” Bucky tells him, feeling the anger rise within him, this is not how it was supposed to go, stay with me-

“Oh, I’m being irrational?” Sam laughs, sarcasm evident in his voice, “There might be a cure. We might get Steve back, Buck. And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know, but-”

“But, what?” he sighs, again. The irritation is flowing between them, Bucky’s freaking out, and above all, Sam looks… he looks disappointed.

This is the worst he’s felt in his whole fucking life. He can’t disappoint the only person that matters to him. Yet he did.

“What if Hope’s wrong, Sam? It’s pointless, most of the population’s infected anyway, it would take forever to get everyone-”

“You’ve got that little faith in me?”

No. No no no. Sam, no. I love you. I love you so much it pains me to see you like this, I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t-

“We’ve lost too many, Sam!” he finds himself yelling, none of the words scrambled in his brain making it out. He’s the most stupid of them, obviously, not that he wasn’t aware. “I know you believe these people can be saved, and your hope is incredible, but can you please… not go?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky. It’s what I do. It’s what Steve did.”

“It’s what got Steve turned.”

This seems to be something Sam has to ponder over, because a rather uncomfortable silence settles between them. His friend’s eyes soften somewhat, but his teeth are still gritted, as are his own. Would be inappropriate to confess his undying love to the other man now, wouldn’t it?

“I do believe they can be saved,” his friend eventually speaks up, “I believe that because I need to. I lost my parents, Sarah, Steve, Natasha. I have to try.”

See, that makes sense. Another reason why Bucky fucking loves him and wants to kiss his stupid fucking face and beg him not to go. But he doesn’t.

“It’s too risky, Sam, it’s not safe.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky holds in a whine, embarrassing, desperate , “I know you can! You’re a fucking hero. You’re one of the best, Sam, you are. I wish I was that brave, I just-”

“Then why won’t you let me do this?” his friend asks in frustration, “Why won’t you let me try?”

I can’t lose you. “Because I lo-”

The words are interrupted by a loud bang. Sam closes his mouth immediately, tight-lipped. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, voice disappearing. Another bang. Then a moan reaches them from somewhere far away.

Their eyes widen in synchron as they look at each other, eye contact unwavering. They both know what that sound means.

Someone’s coming in. Someone not human.

Whatever’s found them, it’s on the roof, and it’s trying its hardest to get in, so Bucky’s got to shut his mind off and get ready.

Not only is he stupid enough to start a fight with Sam, they also get discovered by one of the zombies. Fan-fucking-tastic. They run to opposite ends of the safehouse, trying to locate exactly where the intruder’s at.

Bucky follows the sound into the hallway, past the bathroom, while Sam stays behind in the kitchen, machine gun pointed at the ceiling. He could not have picked a worse time to speak his feelings than today, could he? Well done, James.

And as if this day isn’t already bad enough, he can’t hear the groaning from the roof anymore.

“Sam!” he yells, because it doesn’t matter if the brain-eater hears them, “I lost it.”

“I hear them,” his friend yells back, prompting Bucky to make his way back, adrenaline pumping, feeling the sweat running down his back, “They’re on- Bucky! Buck-”

A crash. The biggest fucking crash he’s ever heard. Silence.

No.

“Sam?!”

“I’m here,” he hears the other man’s coughing, “It’s Steve. It’s Steve! Steve, hey, okay, now stay right there-”

Bucky’s officially panicking. This is not happening. It’s not .

He’s running so fast he stumbles over his own feet. At the same time, he feels as if he’s frozen on the spot. He’s not sure what’s real anymore.

“Sam, I’m coming-”

Sam screams . And Bucky’s heart is torn out of his chest and smashed onto the floor.

It’s the most earth shattering scream Bucky’s ever heard. It reaches him and goes inside every bone in his body and clouds his vision and makes him want to scream in anger. Sam. Sam. Sam. I need him. I need you.

Yet, when he reaches the living room, he sees nothing at first but rubble and smoke. The roof’s broken down. And in the middle of it, a figure is huddled over another lying on the floor, eerily still.

No. This isn’t real.

He might even convince himself he’s dreaming, he really might, because his vision is still clouded, and his teeth are still gritted so hard he bites the inside of his cheek, until the figure turns around and he’s met with a familiar face.

Steve Rogers.

But it isn’t his Steve, it could never be, because this Steve? This one’s a walking corpse. Sickly pale skin and blood between his teeth and red eyes looking back at Bucky with no memory or remorse. And on the floor-

On the floor… on the floor- He can’t be. He’s- Sam is- Sam .

“Sam,” is all Bucky can say, feeling like a broken record. His voice breaks, and the undead fucker in front of him doesn’t move an inch.

Sam is bitten. My Sam. I love you. I love you so fucking much and that’s why I didn’t want you to go, you perfect idiot, I love you-

He’s clutching the machine gun too hard, his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t do anything.

“That’s enough, Steve,” he finds himself addressing him. It doesn’t faze the thing in front of him, but that’s not surprising. It’s not his friend anymore, “Enough.”

Then a moan sounds, but it doesn’t come from Steve’s mouth. The figure on the floor rises, slowly. Sam Wilson. But he isn't his Sam anymore.

Sam looks at him. There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re empty. No warmth, no safety, not anymore.

He’s gone, but he can’t make himself believe it.

The thing that used to be his friend… the man he’s in love with, the man he wanted to spend every day with, every day for the rest of his life, if only he’d let him, that monster that’s destroyed the most beautiful soul on this shitty earth, hollowed him out and taken his body, that monster groans again.

Then, both figures move. The fuckers are moving in one direction, and that’s towards him.

They’re not fast, Bucky backs away, but his eyes are soon clouded by hot streams of tears running down his face. He can’t hold them back. He can’t control himself. He can’t control anything, not anymore.

So he raises his gun, “Sam,” he whispers, well aware no one’s going to respond, “Sam, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fire all the ammo he’s got into his two undead friends, but he opens them again, looks back at them. They’re hungry. They’re still moving.

Bucky can’t breathe.

He wipes at his tears angrily, looking back and forth between those two dead fuckers and hovers his finger over the trigger, but he can’t… he can’t. He only realises in this second. He can’t shoot.

They’re not themselves anymore , he reminds himself. They’re gone.

But Sam’s warm voice full of peace and sunshine and lazy laughter and fleeting, shy touching of hands pops up in his head. That thing is our friend. He’s not dead. Those things are your best friend and the love of your life, James.

The zombies keep coming closer and Bucky bites his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lowers his gun, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he knocks over the coffee table, then the TV, then the potted plant that Sam loves- loved so much, and runs as fast as he can, not looking back. He hears more crashes, the distraction hopefully successful, but doesn’t slow down.

Bucky escapes out the back door, jumps in the car and pushes the speeder.

Sam Wilson, I’m so in love with you, I can’t think about anything else. You’re the only one for me. I love you. And now you’re gone because of me. I didn’t get to tell you.

He doesn’t know what to do, or where he’s going, except- he needs to find Hope Van Dyne. He has to.

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kabillieu · 3 years

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One of the reasons I wanted to do the PhD was to try to professionalize. The only thing I’ve ever done for work as an adult is adjunct teaching, and because I’ve moved so much, I’ve never taught at any one school for more than 2 or 3 semesters. I don’t know how to work in an office space or do regular work things. Even email etiquette is often a mystery to me. Paperwork gives me hives. My instinct is to hide from extra responsibility, so I’ve never voluntarily done the extra stuff that academia entails. Even though academia is its own particular beast, I imagine a lot of this stuff translates to other working environments. People organize things, they send emails, they form committees, they schedule meetings. I’m okay when people tell me where to go and what to do, but it’s much, much harder for me to take initiative to plan things, to be the person in charge and leading. I can do this in a classroom, but among peers? Forget about it. It gives me so much anxiety.

Doing journal editing work helps some, but I’m also generally in a very reactive position. I’m assigned submissions to read and then I do that and show up to meetings when I’m told to.

Anyway, doing the PhD was my way of trying to force myself outside my comfort zone (which is a dark cave where everyone permanently leaves me alone) so that I would have to professionalize to the extent of learning how academia works from the inside: seeing how committees are formed, getting used to using email professionally, going to faculty meetings (which are always at the same time as my kid getting out of school, so that’s been a bust so far), etc. These goals sound so pitiful, but I have a tremendous amount of anxiety about these very basic things. I feel like a grown woman in almost every other aspect of my life except work, where I feel like a stunted 15yo.

Right now I am trying to (correctly) file (confusing) PhD paperwork and organize my program of studies meeting with my supervisory committee, and it is very, very late in the semester to be doing these things, and I feel terribly anxious and worried about it. I’m late partially because I procrastinated these things, but also partially because I lost 3 whole weeks in an already truncated semester due to being hospitalized and then physically healing, and I’ve also been dealing with grief-brain for the past two months. My chair is supportive and understanding, so I don’t understand why my brain is telling me I’m a lifelong failure who will never be a real adult because I’m late scheduling a meeting. But that’s what anxiety is like, I guess.

I also understand that the shopping and the sudden obsession with my appearance is also a grief reaction. Instead of punishing myself for that, I’m trying to think through it logically: Doing small things to feel better about how I look is fine, the things I’ve bought have all brought me some measure of joy, and at the end of the day I know these things are distractions and I still have to meet my work commitments, which I am doing, if imperfectly.

I don’t know how someone wraps up the 2nd semester of a PhD program under the conditions I’ve been in. I’ve been dealing with isolation, stress, physical changes, illness, and death. I’m doing okay, all things considered, and it’s okay that here at the end of the semester, I haven’t done everything perfectly. I’m typing these things out because I need to “hear” them, because I am always too hard on myself.

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nikstersss · 3 years

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Not How To Pass The PLE

Before I go into the main gist of this post, let me give you a small background story. I was a mid-year post-graduate intern in Manila who started in January 2021. I lived alone in our condo unit near the hospital I went to. My usual routine was to get up early, prep, take a short walk to the trike station where I’d take a tricycle to the hospital, go on duty, insert a coffee or carioca break in between, walk all the way home at the end of the day, then maybe have a short study session with a couple friends after dinner or just chill at home. It was a pretty good setup. But then COVID happened. Suddenly, I was a pandemic e-ntern stuck at home listening to Zoom endorsements and lectures all day. At first I was hopeful that things would somehow go back to normal and maybe I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my internship in front of a screen, but we all know how that turned out.

I finished the first half of my internship with the regular year PGIs online. While they were prepping for their boards, I was on my second half with the new batch of interns (that’s probably you, dear reader)—still online. Now you might think that it would have been wise of me to use all that “free” time to start early with my own boards prep and you would be correct. I thought the exact same thing. And trust me, I tried. And failed. Countless times. I won’t even try to justify it. Admittedly, I still think it was a wasted opportunity to read more and make notes, but then again, there’s no use crying over spilled milk. Besides, while it would have been nice and probably less stressful, I still survived without it. Which means that you can, too. So if you’re one of those who’s berating himself because you “didn’t make the most out of your time”, cut it out. You’ll be fine.

Towards the end of my internship, I enrolled in a review center. Despite the asynchronous setup, the review schedule was super tight and the sessions already started while I was still in the middle of final reports and exams. Needless to say, I was already behind on that before it even began. In fact, I didn’t even get to focus on reviewing itself until maybe around early February because of clearance, paperwork, and application stuff. So if you were to ask me how long I really reviewed for the March 2021 boards, I’d say just a little over a month. Kasalanan ko. Wag po tularan. Stressful siya. Nakakaloka.

And even when I did get to really buckle down and do some intense reading, I didn’t follow the program anymore. I tried to catch up at first, but I was already way behind. But I am grateful for all the summarized material because that meant I didn’t have to pore over the mother books anymore. What I will say, though, is that because I didn’t exactly follow the recommended study hours etcetera, I was able to enjoy the whole process because I did it at my own pace. Sure, there was still that dread that maybe I wasn’t on the same level as the others, but I learned to tune those thoughts out eventually. And that’s where goal-setting and discipline comes in, I guess.

The most common question I’ve been getting is what was my day like during the PLE review season. Honestly, I’d like to say I had a routine I followed, but that’s only half-true. While I did have a structure for my day, I rarely followed it exactly. Nevertheless, allow me to share what it would have been like if I did:

Ideally, I’d wake up at 5:00 A.M. then do my morning routine which included prayer and meditation, making my bed, taking a shower, and brewing coffee. And because I’m the type of person who enjoys these mundane activities and slow mornings, I also took this opportunity to get myself in the zone before all the studying that’s to come. I’d plan out my study goals and outline (something you can do the night before, actually) then maybe have breakfast while watching some videos (could be review-related, or those self-motivational vids, or maybe even Korean street food). I’d do whatever I wanted to wake my brain up without stressing it out too much until around 6:30 A.M. By this time, I’d work on backlogs for about an hour and study until about 10 or 11 A.M.—it depends how in the zone I am. I’d prep and cook lunch and then eat while watching Netflix maybe or even play a bit of Fortnite or Paladins until about 1:00 P.M. At this point, I’m pretty certain to be quite sleepy so it’s either I make coffee or tea, or maybe even go out to study at a coffee shop, and then it’s study all the way until 7 P.M. I then take a break to get some exercise, take a shower, have a light dinner, and if I feel like I deserve it, nap for a little bit. At around 8:30, my family usually calls and then we pray the rosary together. After this, I study again, but more of a recall and review session for the day’s progress until about 11:30. I then have my night self-care routine and then go to sleep around midnight.

The main takeaway from the previous paragraph? “Ideally.”

During the first few days of setting up my schedule or routine, following it was already challenging, but still doable. But then the backlogs started piling up and no matter how much I tried to streamline the whole study process, I just couldn’t keep up. I did what I could to follow study habits and schedules, but the setup was falling apart. And you know what? That was okay.

Normally, my type A self would have been so frustrated already with how poorly I was handling my review season. Admittedly, there were a few meltdowns and anxiety attacks as the exam drew nearer, but for the most part, I just let things happen as they did. I still adjusted, sure, but I wasn’t hard on myself for always having to. I kept changing goals when I didn’t meet them (which was probably 80% of the time). There were even instances where I’d finish a handout and then I’d say that okay, I’ll watch an episode for a reward, but that episode became the entire season. While I considered myself to be the most chill reviewee, I also thought I was the worst because I refused to give up any of my wants for my needs. I resisted, of course, but then they’d bug me the entire time I was studying so instead of staying productive, I’d just annoy the hell out of myself. I was probably just lazy and stubborn. LOL. Long story, short, it was a constant battle.

There were times when I felt confident enough to power through the whole thing. I enjoyed the whole process of studying, actually. Making notes and my own ways of memorizing things was fun. I made use of different study strategies, self-checks, and motivational boosters (more on these on a different post). Aside from these, having review-mates who were just a chat away made things bearable. Breakdown session muna tas aral na ulit. And how could I forget all my sweet friends who would send over coffee ayuda every now and then? To me, passing the boards, while mainly should be for oneself and one’s self-actualization, is also about not letting down these people who have been with you throughout your journey.

But it wasn’t always a hyped-90s-movie-transformation-montage kind of environment. Other times, I was just worn out and dejected by my lack of progress. In the already meager time I had to study, I still had plenty of off-days. Concepts just wouldn’t stick and it was disappointing how I’d already forgotten what I just read a couple days ago. It got really tiring even if I was staying indoors all the time. I missed the comfort of coffee shops and the company of study buddies. I missed my family. I wanted to hug our dog. There were days when I couldn’t even bring myself to make coffee and open my notes. I even reached a point where I was sure that I wouldn’t finish reading all the material. (I kid you not, I have handouts I never got to open.)

Yet here I am. Here I am writing about how I survived all that and got those two letters attached to my name. I am not a good example, obviously. There are hundreds better than me and you probably should be taking advice from them instead. I’m simply writing this to tell you that you don’t have to worry. This is all just to ease your anxieties about the PLE. I’m not saying it’s an easy feat that you can just achieve just like that. While I seemed rather complacent, I still put in the work, after all. Admittedly, I know I could have done more, but again, I’m not going to dwell on that anymore. It’s done.

My goal in writing this is to let you know, my dear future doctor, that you’re going to be just fine. Here’s someone who understands the huge disconnect that stemmed from being a pandemic e-ntern. Here’s someone who’s always been doubtful and full of anxieties about the PLE even before she filed her application at the PRC. Here’s someone who constantly prayed that the PLE be moved even for just a month (or kahit two weeks lang masaya na ako nun) up to the week before the exam along with a rising number of cases. Here’s someone who barely has the capability to maintain focus for more than an hour. Here’s someone whose reading pace was literally at 10 minutes per page (yes, I actually timed it and IDK if that’s slow or really slow). Here’s someone who still allowed herself to study at coffee shops and even have samgyup (with proper health protocols, of course) even if she knew she was drowning in backlogs.

My point is that if I managed to pass despite all that, you can, too. My close friends know that I developed a rather funny mentality to ease the jitters as the boards drew nearer. I knew and claimed it for myself that I would already pass. I viewed the whole PLE as just a “formality”--a means for His plans of me becoming a doctor to manifest in this realm. I believed it so much to the point that I thought that no matter what bloopers and slip-ups I have during the test, I’d still see my name on the list of board passers. I’m not saying you should totally ease up and just have a come-what-may attitude. Again, I’m not the model student you should be following here. What I’m saying is to have faith in yourself, your capabilities, and in God. So chin up, Doc. Just a little more ‘til you get to legally practice with that MD at the end of your name.

#nikstersss #PLE

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lonelypond · 3 years

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A Coffeeshop Christmas Carol, Ch. 5

NicoMaki, Love Live, 2.2K, 5/?

Summary: Auditions can be messy.

And We Begin

Nico needed things to go smoothly this morning. So she should have skipped the coffeeshop. But Nico also liked a little verbal skirmish to warm her up before any big project and Nozomi was always good for that. So Nico had stopped in for coffee, the bucket size, and the scone of the day, saffron ginger apricot, a rare flavor. And the usual side of harassment.

Actually, Nico thought, leaning against the refrigerator case, waiting for Nozomi to pack up her to go order, this wasn’t harassment. Nozomi’s tone lacked confidence. Nico’s big sister senses pinged. But with Nozomi, Nico had curiosity, but no sympathy.

Nozomi was holding the coffee just out of Nico’s reach, “Have your staff meetings here and I’ll supply the drinks, free.”

Nico knew she looked smug, “What do you need Nico to do?”

Nozomi seemed furtive, but then met Nico’s glance, “I just want to make sure you’re not torturing poor Maki. She sits here and tears her hair out over your script. You must have written terrible things.”

Nico noted the information, unasked for, that Maki came here with Nico’s script, and went back to her interrogation, “So it’s not Maki...Eli, you want Nico to drag Eli in here.”

Nozomi frowned, “She hasn’t come in for Cheat Day yet. And she seems so worried when I…”

“Stalk her?”

Nozomi smacked Nico’s hand, “I saw her at the library a couple of days ago. She was frowning a lot.”

“I think that’s a dancer thing.”

Nozomi acknowledged that possibility with a head tilt, “Just come here for a meeting. One meeting.”

“Nico will consider it.”

“I’ll text you the next time Maki’s here.” Nozomi jumped to a conclusion.

Nico didn’t appreciate it. “Nico needs Maki near a piano.”

“Ooohh…”

Nico’s snarl stopped Nozomi’s tease.

“My auditions.” Nico glanced at her wrist, “are in an hour. And then Nico will be working crazy hours to stage a holiday show. Nico won’t have time for coffee, conversation, or anything else.”

Nozomi put her hands together, pleading. “One meeting, Nico, that’s all I ask. I’ll owe you.”

“Maybe. And maybe don’t drool so much over Umi when we’re here.” Nico grabbed her coffee and the goodie bag and headed out the door.

###

Kasumi’s phone exploded. Her favorite song. So a friend, Kasumi grabbed the phone.

“Good morning, cutie. Kasumin is here for you.”

“Kasumi?” Shizuku’s voice sounded worried, “It’s 9:05. Why aren’t you here half an hour ahead of your appointment?”

“It can’t be 9:05. Kasumin’s alarm was set for…” no, Kasumi realized, she’d set her phone for 7 p.m. and not changed the alarm...she hadn’t worked last night so she could be fresh for the auditions and now she was going to be a bit too fresh for auditions.

“I bought you a breakfast bar. Hurry here.”

“Kasumin thought Shizuko would be happy her biggest competition…”

“It’s not a competition if you don’t make it here. I’ll ask Professor Yazawa if you can…”

“No, Shizuko, you can’t do that. I don’t want Nico to know about me sleeping late; it won’t look good. And Kasumin always looks good. Kasumin will be there in ten minutes.”

Kasumi ended the call. Shizuku frowned at her phone. Asking for more time would be the safe, sensible option, but Kasumi preferred the riskier option of rushing to save face. How impulsive. Shizuku would have to chide Kasumi after their auditions, where Shizuku would prove that careful preparation beat impulsive charm.

###

Nozomi found herself watching for blonde heads. It was annoying. There would be a perfectly charming, perfectly cute flirting opportunity in front of her and a flash of gold would catch her eye, distracting her. Could she really want to see Eli that much?

###

Done. Maki pushed back from the piano, closing her eyes as she sighed and slid the pencil through her hair, to rest next to her ear. The dance for Fezziwig’s party had been easy enough. Take an English traditional song and punch it up. She’d glanced at the script. Fezziwig had a DJ not a fiddler in Nico’s version so Maki tossed in some synth loops. No lyrics so it wouldn’t help Nico at auditions, but Nico hadn’t specified anything beyond “finish a song by breakfast” so Maki was covered. Sun was up. What time were auditions? Were they a morning thing? Would Nico be at the theatre. Maki could run in, drop off the song, and then crash for a nap at her studio. She’d have to double check her calendar and make sure there were no appointments for the rest of the morning. Maki already knew the musicians she’d be working with for A Christmas Carol, so no auditions were necessary. She’d have to get them together in the next couple of days.

Her phone pinged. Hanayo.

H: Free for lunch?

M: I’ll probably be sleeping through it.

H: Free for breakfast?

M: What’s up?

H: Your mom.

M: Ignore her.

H: She’s worried about you. So is Rin.

M: Rin is not a parent. She needs a new hobby.

H: o(-_-;*)

M: I have to drop off a song for auditions.

H: Dinner tomorrow?

M: Maybe. I have a lot of work to do.

H: Let me know.

M: Okay.

Work. It wasn’t an excuse. It was a gift. A lifeline. A blessing. Music. Music Maki, the resident composer, had to write. Music to be offered to artists. Music Maki wanted to write. Not classes she was attending to meet family expectations. Or someone else’s hospital she was on track to take over. Music was what had led her even the few steps out of the Omine induced gloom. Music had saved her, Maki having dived in to express the ENTIRE depth of what she was feeling, and discovering that music would support her, embrace her with an atmosphere that would give her life and breath even on her darkest nights, in a way that medicine never could. And then Hanayo had nudged her into applying for this new program and music was the only thing Maki HAD to talk to anyone about and there were hours, almost days, when Maki wasn’t thinking about the embarrassed, sick feeling in her stomach when she struggled to figure out which signals she’d missed, which conversations had ended too soon, which couches she should have slid a little further down. Now, whenever there was someone in the room, the piano was there too, a loyal friend and partner and a way to express all the questions that would ease her struggle while not demanding direct answers from anyone who heard. Maybe one or two listeners had been attuned enough to pick up Maki’s mood, but the conversations were always about the music, never about what had prompted the choice. So Maki could proudly claim a safe zone as she recovered life after heartbreak and medical school.

###

“Hey, Eli.” Nico knocked peremptorily on the doorframe of Eli’s studio. She was surprised to find it open. Eli was staring at herself in the mirror, one arm sweeping to the side.

“Hi Nico.” Eli completed the movement, then pirouetted to face Nico.

“Pretty. Put that in the program.”

“Working on it.” Eli grinned and grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off her face, “Don’t you have auditions?”

“In 10 minutes. Nico’s excellent support staff is signing actors in and handing out music. Everything is under control.”

“So you stopped by to say hi?” Sure Nico was friendly, but that seemed...inefficient, Eli decided that was the correct adjective.

Nico shook her head, “No time for that. We need to have a meeting and Nozomi’s bugging me to have it at the coffeeshop.” Nico stared at Eli for a long minute. “You haven’t stopped by so Nozomi wants Nico to do her a favor.” Another long pause as Nico watched Eli’s face for any reaction, “We can do it in Nico’s office instead. Or Maki’s studio. Nico’s going to spend more time in that part of campus. It’s pretty.”

Eli’s pulse rate had picked up, matching the pace of the sudden spout of internal dialogue in her brain. Nozomi asked Nico for a favor. And that favor involved Eli. Who hadn’t stopped by the coffeeshop. But maybe wanted to. And maybe Nozomi wanted her to. And maybe that was…

“Eli?”

“Okay.”

“Okay? So you’re good for the coffeeshop?” Eli nodded and Nico continued, “Great. Nico will see if Maki’s free tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great.” Eli’s voice splintered.

Nico looked exasperated, “Nozomi’s a little too nosy for Nico, but she’s a good friend.”

She must be, Eli thought, if Nico stopped by on the morning of auditions. To make sure that Eli was okay with it. Eli’s mood brightened. It had been a lonely fall, but maybe with winter, there would be more company.

“Thanks for checking though, Nico.”

Nico shrugged, “We have to watch out for each other.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Nico snorted, “But you might want to wear some puffy layers over your leotard for protection.”

###

Center stage, all eyes on her. Where Kasumin belonged. Kasumi glanced at the script in her hand. To play Scrooge? Sure, it was a cute Scrooge, and a singing Scrooge, but wouldn’t it be better to be Kasumin? Kasumi could feel herself frowning and her audience’s attention slipping. Focus. Get back into it. Take that frown and make it Scrooge’s frown. Answer Marley’s question.

"Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

And don’t think about food. Kasumi resisted her sudden urge to kick herself. Sleeping late, leaving no time for breakfast was never a winning strategy. Having Shizuku standing there reading Marley lines looking like a person who’d slept well, had time for breakfast, and enjoyed being insufferably smug about it just highlighted Kasumi’s mistakes.

But there was still the song. Nobody could out sing Kasumi. Not even Shizuko.

###

Maki froze, halfway through the door to the theatre. Two actors were on stage, one with fair hair, one with dark. And the Scrooge-Marley duet was suddenly alive, the dance, the history, the concern...everything Maki had put in the music. Not two actors onstage, but Scrooge and Marley, their relationship, only hinted at, found in every note of Maki’s score. She had made it gay. And it worked. At least with these two actors.

They stopped and Maki applauded, enthusiastically. And suddenly Nico had erupted from the front row, spinning, a glare on her face, “What the he…” She saw Maki and stopped, was that a groan Maki heard. Nico turned back to the stage, “Kasumi, Shizuku, thanks. Roles will be posted in two days.”

The two girls were whispering together onstage, openly staring at Maki. Neither of them were familiar to her, although Maki had not met all the music students but with voices like that, surely they were at least minoring in Voice.

“Nico will be right back.” And then Nico was there, dragging Maki out of the theatre, as a blonde student with a clipboard who’d been sitting next to Nico giggled.

“What are you doing here? And you can’t applaud like that. This is auditions. No one’s been cast yet.”

“But they’re perfect.”

“That’s not how it works. And you haven’t seen the rest of the auditionees. You just can’t hand the parts to the first two people you hear.”

Maki frowned, thinking back, “I thought you believed in serendipity. I walk into the theatre, hear two students who are actually putting everything I wrote into my duet, what else do you…”

“A lot, Maki. You’re new to this so Nico is being…” did Nico just grind her teeth, “tolerant of your ignorance, but Scrooge has to interact with a lot of characters as well as be reliable and Nakasu rushed in late. And it’s Nico’s duet.”

Maki ignored the question of duet ownership. “Sleeping late isn’t a character flaw…”

Nico threw up a hand, inhaled deeply, and dropped her tone to serious, but a whisper, “Nico is the director, Nico is making the casting choices, Maki is directing the ensemble.” Nico pointed at Maki, speaking slowly, “Maki picks musicians.” The finger swivelled, “Nico picks actors. I don’t want your help with that. Got it?”

Maki nodded, mood deflated.

“Why are you here?”

Maki pulled the score sheets out of her pocket, “New song. 24 hour break from nagging.”

Nico skimmed the pages. “Fezziwig’s dance. Seriously? It’s all instruments. You’re cheating.”

“You didn’t specify.” Maki winked.

A long stare, Nico’s arms crossed, “Nico will be much more precise about what she wants from now on.”

Maki nodded, “No misunderstandings.”

“No misunderstandings.” Nico closed her eyes, sighing, “Please talk to someone about how plays in rehearsal work. Try Umi. Nico is too busy.”

“All right.” Maki yawned.

“You stayed up all night?”

Maki nodded.

“Dumb.” Nico spun Maki around and pushed her down the hall, “Go get some sleep. We have a meeting with Eli tomorrow afternoon. Nico will text you details later.”

“Cool.”

Maki and Nico were both surprised by the enthusiasm in Maki’s voice. Maybe her Christmas miracle had come early, Nico mused. Maki just hummed the duet happily as she walked, thinking about busy days filled with new music and no time to remember past fails.

A/N: Happy birthday, Maki. Was thinking about writing something new, but my inner Maki mostly wants this year's Christmas jam to progress. So here we go.

#NicoMaki #NozoEli #ShizuKasu #RinPana #Yazawa Nico #Nishikino Maki #love live #Ayase Eli #Tojo Nozomi #Nakasu Kasumi #Osaka Shizuku #Koizumi Hanayo #Christmas #happy birthday maki #Coffeeshop Christmas Carol

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languagelearningjoy · 3 years

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10 REASONS THAT SLOW YOU DOWN IN LEARNING ENGLISH

The first reason I would like to mention is MOTIVATION. We are used to thinking about our motivation to learn a certain language as about something stable and simple. Nothing could be further from the truth. We may be highly motivated today and be completely unmotivated a month later. Our motivation is tightly bound to our other needs, wishes, hopes, attitudes, to a broader social life and opportunities it offers us. Besides, motivation also depends on actions we undertake and on the outcomes of our actions. When these factors change, our motivation changes as well. When you come home after a hard working day, all you want is to relax, to do something you like, you are just not able to do grammar exercises or write an essay, your brain refuses to think and you watch your favourite TV series or check your Facebook page, in your native language of course. There are many ways to be successful in language learning without compromising your needs. I am going to make a special video to help you understand and support your motivation better at different stages of your language learning. Just one more thing I would like to say about motivation: it has often been undermined by the

DISCREPANCY BETWEEN YOUR GOALS AND YOUR ACTIONS

What do you usually do when learning a foreign language? You study grammar, memorise vocabulary, write essays, but it is not your goal! Your goal is to be able to use the language to communicate with other people! It must seriously confuse your brain when you put a big effort into something which is not your goal. Does it mean that you can start communicating in a foreign language without learning its grammar and vocabulary? I don’t think so. What can you do to reduce this discrepancy? You can change your way of thinking. Don’t think “I should learn the past tense” if you are not interested in grammar. You can think: “I want to learn how to talk about interesting things I did last week, last year or five years ago”.

Very often the discrepancy between goals and actions is caused by the fact that the course program does not correspond with your goal, or topics and tasks are not interesting for you or the teaching methods are not efficient. Sometimes people try to learn a foreign language by themselves choosing very tiring, boring, time-consuming and inefficient techniques like memorising words one by one from a dictionary or reading English classics when they are on a pre-intermediate level. Some ideas are not as bad, but often they can’t guide them through all the steps that are necessary to be a highly proficient language user, because

INPUT is NOT ENOUGH

Frankly speaking, some theorists think it is enough but I strongly believe it is not and many studies have proved that language learning is a complex process, it has many stages of processing, coding, and restructuring information, not to mention that output is a crucial stage of language learning. I am going to do a special video with a more detailed description of the second language processing and acquisition and show how it is slowed down when some stages are omitted and some important factors are neglected. Now I just want to mention the main reason for the fact why learning a lot you may not necessarily bring a great result.

YOUR KNOWLEDGE IS NOT THE SAME AS YOUR SKILLS (describing it in scholar terms, your declarative knowledge does not transform automatically into your procedural knowledge). If you do not have extraordinary language skills you might have noticed that despite doing many grammar exercises you still make the same mistakes again and again; after listening to the pronunciation workshop on youtube, your pronunciation in spontaneous speech is still far from perfection. To transform your knowledge into skills you need to practice it in communication, still better in a real-life situation. So, the next reason why language learning often fails

LACK OF COMMUNICATION

Plenty of experiments and papers showed how communication enhances language learning. Social interaction is called a “gate” to language acquisition and it is not an exaggeration. We are social creatures, it is coded in our biology: brain research showed that interaction arouses out attention and activates the brain mechanisms linking perception and action. That is exactly what we need to transform our declarative knowledge into our speaking skills. So, what should you do if you don’t know people with whom you can practice the language you learn? Some youtube videos suggest talking to a mirror, recording yourself, using virtual assistants like Siri, or speech recognition programs. Surely, you can do it and it helps but I strongly believe that real people are much better than the mirror or Siri. Again, I am going to make a special video with some tips as to how to build your own network but you can easily do it now by yourself: there are social networks, there are a lot of virtual communities on the Internet, possibly some of them have real-life meetings in your city, there are tandem group meetings (real and virtual), discussion clubs and many other options. Apart from many other benefits, talking to people gives you feedback and here we are at the 6th reason why language learning might be not satisfactory

LACK OF FEEDBACK AND REWARD

When we put in a great deal of effort into our actions, we want to see the result we have achieved. In the case of language learning this result is ability to communicate with other speakers. But what result do we usually get? The score of our last test. Is it exciting? Not really. You may get a reward a year, two or three years later when you pass your IELTS test or get a good job but it is a very long time to wait, people want results and rewards more quickly. Talking to foreigners gives you this feeling of success and satisfaction. You can also arrange small rewards for yourself, e.g. you can write in your language journal to record your progress, success and your feelings. Do we take our feelings into account when we learn a foreign language? Usually not and it is a serious mistake, and that’s the reason number 7 why your language learning is not efficient:

YOUR FEELINGS ARE NOT ENGAGED

Your feelings are important, they are related to all the key factors of language learning. If your learning is pleasurable, you are highly motivated to continue it. You memorize much better something that moves you, makes you smile, makes you feel delighted. Many invisible barriers on the way to language proficiency are created by boredom or negative feelings.

Many learners and even teachers make a big mistake when they think about language learning as something ordered, something like a formula: do this and this and you get a result. If it does work for you, it is perfect, stick to this way of thinking, but for many people, it doesn’t work. If it doesn’t work for you, stop seeing a language as a set of grammar rules and long vocabulary lists. Language is about words and tenses and endings but first of all language is about you and the world around you, language is about everything. The good news is that you can learn when doing anything, including things you are passionate about: you may learn something very important for you, talk to very interesting people, you can express yourself through a new language. You might think that it will be possible only when you become a proficient language user, but in fact, you can do it right now. The first idea that comes to my mind, you can make a photo album with notes in the language you learn. Share it with your friends. Even if they can’t read your notes, they will be happy to see the photos. Many people don’t perceive language learning in terms of creativity and self-expression and that is the reason number 8 why they struggle:

they CANNOT ENGAGE their PERSONALITY IN LANGUAGE LEARNING

In fact, it is easier to say than do. A foreign language is something unfamiliar to us, it pushes us out of our comfort zone. Our brain doesn’t like unfamiliar things. A commonly held psychological belief says that it happens because for all biological creatures familiar things mean safety, unfamiliar things are associated with some potential danger. Even if you like the language you learn, try to shift settings on your computer into this language or join a group native speakers when you are the only foreigner and it is highly unlikely you will feel comfortable. It is more difficult to express yourself through a foreign language. For a long time after my English became fluent I felt I sounded ridiculous speaking English, especially in public, I was ashamed of my accent and afraid to make mistakes.

So if it is difficult to make a foreign language yours what can we do? We can appropriate a new language gradually switching it to our sphere of interests and to our identity. If you like cooking, start searching for new recipes in this language, if you like sports, start watching sports events in this language, if you like traveling, start sharing your experience in a blog. Don’t overwhelm yourself, do one step at a time and you will realise that gradually you start feeling more and more comfortable and the most important thing: you will use your new language in a real-life situation and that is exactly the 9th reason why people do not succeed in their language learning: they

DO NOT USE THE LANGUAGE IN REAL LIFE SITUATIONS

Psychology says that the knowledge acquired in a certain situation, in certain circumstances is not always to automatically transferred into other situations and circumstances. That is exactly what many people experience when after years of learning a foreign language in classroom setting, they meet a native speaker and can’t say a word. I would say that language usage limited to a classroom is possibly the main reason why people feel frustrated about their language learning. So, what can you do? Try to expand you language learning out of the classroom. As I said, language is about you and the world around you. Take this responsibility on yourself and you will avoid the 10th reason why language learning is not efficient

People DO NOT TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR their LANGUAGE LEARNING.

Do not put all responsibility on your teacher. Language learning for a long time has been organised in the way that learners were just passive doers of the tasks they were given by their teachers. I think this approach will be changing in the future but what could you do now? Just plan your learning strategically, engage your emotions and creativity, organise a group of speakers with whom you can practice this language.

So, thank you for your attention, and good luck in your language learning. If you need any help with English, Russian, Polish, you can book a lesson with me via email: [email protected] ($ USA 20/hour or 15 euro/hour).

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canyouevenwritebro · 4 years

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Sunflowers (pt. 1)

Summary: The reader has been with the Avengers since they rescued her from HYDRA. She has joined them on countless missions since then but this may be the hardest one yet. Set in 2016 CA:CW.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. It’s purely fiction.

Characters: steve rogers, tony stark, natasha romanoff, bucky barnes, sam wilson, wanda maximoff, clint barton, peter parker

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, depression, violence, death

a/n: hey!!! i did it! my first fanfic.

When the Avengers raided the HYDRA base you were kept in, they found you inside a cryo-chamber sleeping peacefully. After every personnel was captured, they transferred you to the compound along with artifacts and files of experiments they performed. Eventually, they found your file. It was quite lengthy. Your father was working for HYDRA but he turned on them and planned to take them down. As a result, they silenced him and your mother. They knew that whatever he knew about HYDRA, he told her. They spared you because you were just a kid. Instead, you were out on the Thanatos program. It was your father's project and it was almost done up until his betrayal. They thought you would be perfect for the program. They could groom you to the perfect obedient soldier they needed. On top of that, what could be more cruel than using your father's work to torture you?

They gave you a version of the serum used on the winter soldiers, with their own upgrades of course. They incorporated it with the Extremis serum and that left you with a super soldier that can breathe fire. Phoenix, they called you. The ultimate weapon of death.

After briefing everyone on your situation, they woke you up. You stepped out of the chamber confused. You were met with unfamiliar yet kind faces that it overwhelmed you. You made a run for it and nearly burned down the entire medical wing before they tranquilized you again. You woke up in a small glass cell where they told you that they meant no harm. Somehow, you believed them.

That was a year and a half ago. Now, here you were walking around New York and trying your best to be part of society. After extensive amounts of therapy of course. You were on your way back when you saw an old man in a flower shop organizing his stalls. You were mesmerized by the flowers' beauty and found yourself crossing the street to get there.

"Looking for anything specific, ma'am?" he asked

"No, not really. Maybe something cheery?" God, why are you so socially awkward?

"Well, in that case," he said, "here are some sunflowers." He handed you a bouquet.

"My wife loves them. When she's upset, I get her these because they always look towards the sun and the color brightens up the room," he said with a smile.

"Thank you so much," you said as you handed him a $20 bill "Keep the change"

You were now back at the compound and you were rummaging through the kitchen in search of a vase. You didn't find any (Seriously? a state of the art training compound owned by a billionaire doesn't have a vase?)

"I guess a pitcher would do," you whispered to yourself as you headed to your room.

"What is that?" asked Tony.

"Sunflowers. Got it from the guy near the train station. It's a good metaphor when you think about it. They're always looking on the bright side. I didn't get many opportunities to go sunbathing when I was at HYDRA." you said with an awkward chuckle.

"Alright. Fair enough. I'm headed to MIT for the speech thingy. Wanna come?"

"Nah. I still have to catch up on culture." you giggled. Years of working for HYDRA also didn't give you a lot of me-time.

"Okay well if you change your mind, you know how to get there."

"Copy that."

You headed to your room. Yours. You actually owned something. You turned on your TV and scanned through the channels. Doctor Who reruns? Sure. Hours had passed and you've scanned through hundreds of channels. You decided to turn on some news in the background while you read.

"On breaking news, eleven Wakandans are amongst those confirmed dead after a violent clash between the Avengers and independent mercenaries in Nigeria." Your head bolted up and you reached for the remote to turn the volume up.

"Brock Rumlow, former SHIELD agent, led the team of mercenaries to procure a biological weapon being tested at the Center for Disease Control Nigeria Division. It was believed to be a suicide mission as eyewitness account said Rumlow wore a type of bomb in his vest. Avenger Wanda Maximoff contained the explosion only to have the blast thrown into a building killing a total of 30 people. We have yet to receive an official statement from the Avengers. More details tonight only on Channel 6 News at 8." You listened with intent and your heartbeat was beating fast. Those poor victims. Is the team on their way home? Are they okay? How is Wanda doing? Your mind formed a million questions.

"FRIDAY, call Steve Rogers." a faint ding let you know that your request is being done.

"Y/n." Oh, thank god he's okay.

"Steve! Are you guys alright? I saw what happened. I am so sorry."

"We're alright. Search and rescue was already on the scene when we left."

"How's Wanda? Do you need me to do anything?"

"Physically, she's safe, y/n. Emotionally? This is gonna take a toll on her."

"What about the others? Nat? Sam? You?"

"We're gonna be fine. We're on our way home."

You met the team on the law of the compound. They were visibly stunned and you cut through them to hug Wanda. She was your best friend and you know that this was going to affect her greatly. You were right. She locked herself in her room and the only thing you heard was the sound of the news and sobbing.

In his office, Steve kept replaying what had happened in Lagos. Knowing him, he was gonna blame himself for this. You wanted to leave him be but your concern for Wanda kept you standing by his doorway.

"Steve? You got a moment?"

"Y/n. Do you need anything?" he said as he paused the video on his computer.

"No. I just wanna say I'm sorry about Lagos. Sam and Nat told me what happened."

"It's not your fault, y/n. It's mine. Rumlow mentioned Bucky and all sense of the mission disappeared in my head."

"Don't blame yourself. Bucky was or is, your best friend and he's still missing. You have a right to have emotions."

"Thanks. I... uh... I needed that. Have you talked to Wanda yet?"

"No. Her room is locked. Maybe you should try talking to her. Both of us saw you as a mentor. She'll listen to you."

You gave him a faint smile and headed for the kitchen. Maybe some food could help them. You moved the vase of sunflowers from your room to the middle of the large dining table.

Tony walked in and asked everyone to meet in the conference room. He got the news as he was coming home from Massachusetts. After a brief interaction with a grieving mother and the news of the mission, he knew what he had to do.

Inside, you were met by General Ross and his assistant. Rhodey was already inside and the rest of the team followed suit. Wanda had stopped crying but you knew she would never get over this.

The general discussed the Sokovia Accords with the team. As much as you'd like to be on Steve's side, you knew the team needs to be put in check. One more incident like this and the world might lose their trust in you. You agreed with Tony. Rhodey and Sam were discussing, or perhaps fighting would be a better word, over the Accords. Tony just sat there looking like a rebellious teen listening to his parents' lectures.

To prove a point, Tony showed the team a picture of Charlie Spencer. He died in Sokovia after Ultron planned to drive the human race into extinction. You felt your heart drop. He just wanted to do some good and he was caught in the crossfire.

At that point, the fighting and bantering was too much and you just zoned everyone out. You wanted to cry and you knew that the team was slowly drifting apart. Steve walked out after receiving a text. You didn't ask why. He has a private life after all.

You decided to take your frustrations out on the punching bags. You finally had a home. A family. But you feel the world caving in around you. With one last punch, the punching bag came flying through the room engulfed in flames. You fell to your knees as tears clouded your vision. Dum-E, who Tony programmed to follow you around with a fire extinguisher as a joke, finally put his programming to use.

"Y/n." a familiar voice called to you

"Nat. Hey." you struggled through the tears.

"Talk to me."

"I- I just want the team to stay together. You guys are the only family I have."

"Me too, y/n. I used to have nothing till I found this family."

"I want to help. What can I do to help?"

"I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. I'm meeting Steve on the way to try and change his mind. Maybe you can help."

"I'll try."

Nat took you to a cathedral. Steve was on the other end by himself. He looks... tired. On the altar was a picture of Agent Carter.

"Oh. That's why he left."

"Hi, Steve. I just wanna say I am so sorry for your loss," you said as you walked towards him.

"Nat. Y/n. What are you doing here?"

"We didn't want you to be alone and I'm also taking y/n with me to Vienna for the signing of the Accords."

"There's plenty of room on the jet," you said

"Who else signed?"

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision."

"Wanda?"

"TBA."

"Clint?"

"He said he's retired."

"There's still time to change your mind, Steve. Come with us to Vienna." you pleaded one last time

"You know why I can't do this y/n. If I sign, we're surrendering our freedom to people with agendas different from ours."

You felt a lump in your throat. "I'll be in the car." You said to Nat as you turned around not looking at Steve once as you walked out of the church.

"She hates me now, doesn't she?"

"No, she doesn't. She's just scared."

Nat was right. As always. You got in the car and tried to meditate. You didn't want to cry. Not when cameras surrounded you. You tried to steady your breathing but your brain seemed to do the exact opposite.

~~~Flashback~~~

"Injecting serum in five seconds." an emotionless voice said. You tried to break free but you were strapped down to the table. Even if you weren't, it was like you were trapped in your own mind. You couldn't move. The next few hours were a blur to you. The only thing you remember was the excruciating pain coursing through your veins.

"Serum successfully administered."

"Good. Take her to the cell for the remainder of the process."

You woke up in a pool of sweat inside a dark room. Alone. Like you have been since you were a kid. You don't remember much of it. Sometimes you see your parents in your dreams. You were 5 years old and they took you to the park. Your mom was helping you get to the other end of the monkey bars while your dad went to get snow cones. You were happy. But that memory was soon followed by the sound of gunshots and screaming. You couldn't understand what was said but you didn't need to be a genius to know it was full of anger. Your mom told you to hide and you did. But they found you anyway. Since then, you were subjected to vigorous training. You now know 30 languages and deadly fighting skills. You became a weapon and today was the final step of your transformation. Eleven years of training and they deemed you ready. After they reprogrammed your brain to be obedient, of course.

The man in the army uniform handed you a folder. "Your first mission, soldatin," he said, "Procure the obelisk. No survivors. No witnesses. You have 48 hours. Report back here as soon as it is finished." You nodded and opened the folder. It was of a tiny village at the base of the Swiss Alps. In the middle of it was the said obelisk encased in glass. You took a handful of soldiers with you and you headed for the village.

You succeeded in your mission. The obelisk was safely placed inside a containment unit in the jet. The village was burned to the ground. Bodies were piled on the streets and the only sign of life was your team and a handful of livestock the villagers kept. With that, you headed back.

"Very good, soldatin. Go with the doctor." and like the good soldier that you were, you walked behind the man in the lab coat.

You passed by a few offices on your way to the medical wing. Amongst other things, the serum enhanced your hearing. The faintest whispers sounded like normal talking.

"You heard about the mission?"

"Yeah. I heard y/l/n didn't even show mercy for those villagers." the voice chuckled.

"Bettenhauser's gonna be pleased." said another.

"I bet. He and y/f/l/n worked together on the program and seeing it do its purpose mus be so satisfying"

"Her father was an asset for us. That was before he betrayed us, though."

"Well, we got her now. She is an even bigger asset than her father ever was."

You kept walking and you ended up in a room with four other people in coats. In the middle of a room was a large glass case with a chair.

"Step inside the chamber, soldatin. You need to rest." and just like that, your feet dragged you inside. One of the coats placed a mask on you amongst other things. You felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier and heavier. Gone.

The glass chamber now safely enclosed your unconscious body. Your body was now as cold as ice.

~~~End of flashback~~~

Since that first mission, you had killed hundreds of people for HYDRA. Innocent people. They haunt your dreams to this day but what's done is done. All you could do is help as many as you can.

You were taken out of your trance by the sound of the car door closing. Nat now sat beside you.

"Eagle Hangar please," she said to the driver

The drive to the hangar was silent. So was the flight to Vienna.

"Here goes nothing," you said to Nat as the elevator doors opened. World leaders were gathered in the room and cameras were flashing everywhere. A lady with a clipboard checked you in and quickly walked away.

"I see you are not fans of the spotlight." said the man in the suit. You later learned his name was T'Challa. Prince of Wakanda.

"It isn't very flattering," Nat said to him.

"Well, considering your last trip to Capitol Hill, you seem to be doing great so far." you chuckled at his response. You read about that months ago. You even saw it on YouTube on "Black Widow most iconic moments compilation.

"You don't seem like a big fan as well." You told him

"The accords, yes. The politics? not very. Two men in the same room can get more done than a hundred."

"Unless you need to move a piano." the voice behind you said

"King T'Chaka. This is Y/n Y/l/n. Allow us to apologize for what happened in Nigeria."

"Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. I'm sad to hear Captain Rogers won't be joining us."

"That makes three of us." You replied to him.

Just then, you heard a voice come on through the speakers asking everyone to take a seat. King T'Chaka was giving a statement when both yours and Nat's attention was drawn to his son who was looking out the window.

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" He screamed as he bolted for his father.

Like instinct, you threw yourself in front of Nat. It's something that you started doing after you joined the team. You thought after all the lives you've taken, protecting as many as you can could "wipe the red off your ledger" as Nat put it. You were a very effective human shield as a result of the serums. You weren't immortal nor did you have instantaneous healing due to the reaction between the two serums but you still healed faster compared to average humans. You felt a spray of glass cut through your skin and a searing heat touched your skin. Search and rescue came after the explosion and took you and Nat to get medical attention. You were perfectly fine but Nat had a few cuts and bruises. In typical Nat fashion, she walked it off like it was nothing.

You were taken to a tent to get a fresh set of clothes while Nat talked to Prince T'Challa, now king under horrible circumstances. When you got out, he was gone and she was on the phone.

A few minutes later, your phone rang.

Captain Grandpa calling...

you dropped the call and went to check on NAt

~~~BUCHAREST~~~

News outlets revealed Sargeant Barnes, Bucky, was behind the bombing. You knew Steve was gonna go after him. He'd been looking for Bucky since SHIELD fell. Now, he found him in Romania. Orders were given to shoot him on sight and Steve wouldn't let that happen.

~~~BERLIN~~~

Bucky was now in custody.

"What part of don't make things worse didn't you understand?" you asked Steve

You were in one of the offices watching Bucky getting evaluated by the doctor. You were in the other room talking to Tony about what would happen to your teammates.

"We're lucky they aren't in jail," he said

This was all too much. You went to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. You hadn't slept in 24 hours nor eaten anything. You looked in the mirror and fixed your hair as best you could.

BLACKOUT.

What was happening? You ran out and saw a lot of commotion.

"Get me eyes on Barnes," yelled Everett Ross.

You saw Nat and Tony walking towards the exit.

"What happened? What can I do?" you asked

"Don't know. We need to find Barnes." Tony said

"Please tell me you brought a suit," said Nat

"Sure did. It's a lovely Tom Ford three-piece two-button. I'm on active duty non-combatant."

Just as he said that Agent Carter, the younger, ran past you "follow me," she said. The three of you did and she led you to the facility's lobby.

You had never met Sgt. Barnes but from what Steve told you, he was a good man. The person you saw in the lobby was not him. He reminded you of your time at HYDRA. Cold and merciless. A soldier.

Sharon and Nat ran in and tried to fight him to no avail. You managed to get him down but he pinned you n the floor. He was trying to choke you and as a last effort to break free, you took a deep breath and exhaled a stream of fire. He dodged out of the way and you managed to get up. The next thing you saw was T'Challa going after him. You set fire to the staircase to slow him down but he still got away

You went outside only to see Steve on the rooftop pulling a helicopter from the sky. Sometimes you forget that he's a super-soldier just like you.

"Y/n coordinate evac. Get civilians as far away as you can," said Tony through comms. You wanted to help Steve but you got your orders.

~~~Fast forward to Berlin~~~

You did what Tony said and got civilians to a safe distance. When you went to meet with Nat and Tony, they told you Steve and Bucky were gone. They assumed Sam was with them too.

~~~Steve's POV~~~

"This would've been a lot easier a week ago," said Sam

"If we call Tony or maybe y/n--" he cut you off

"Who knows if the accords will let them help." he had a point. After everything that's happened, the UN would not listen to them even if they found out about Zemo.

"We're on our own."

"Maybe not." you looked at him questioningly. "I know a guy"

~~~End of POV~~~

You were now back in a conference room with General Ross. He gave you 36 hours to bring the three men in. He wouldn't hesitate to kill Steve if it meant bringing Barnes in.

"My left arm is numb. Is that normal?" he asked. Nat put her hand on his shoulder.

"You alright?" she asked

"Always." you knew that was a lie. Numbness in the left arm was a sign of a heart attack. But he's Tony. he could be bleeding to death and still say witty sarcastic remarks. You wish he didn't do that. You wished he'd open up to you more. "36 hours. Geez."

"We're seriously understaffed," said Nat. It was just the three of you there now.

"Would be great if we had a hulk right about now. Any shot?" Nat shook her head

Not even the Hulk. It would be nice if just Bruce and Thor were there. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad. Bruce and Thor would've deescalated matters before you could say Mjolnir.

"You really think he would be on our side?" she asked. You hadn't thought of that but knowing Bruce, he would want the team to be together.

"I have an idea." Said Nat

"ME too. Where's yours?

"Downstairs. Where's yours?" said tony.

~~~QUEENS~~~

"Spiderman? really?" you asked Tony in the car.

"HE stopped a 3000 lbs car going 40 miles an hour wit his bare hands and he swings from webs."

"But he's dressed in a red hoodie and swim goggles." you chuckled. It was probably the lightest moment you had in the last week alone.

You and Tony knocked on the apartment door. It was answered by a middle-aged woman. She was beautiful honestly. She had those kind motherly eyes that reminded you of your mom.

"Hi. I'm Tony Stark. This is y/n y/l/n. Is Mr. Parker here? we have some good news for him." Tony sad

"I'm May., his aunt and no he's not here. He should be home soon though. You're welcome to wait." she invited you in and served you some walnut and date bread. It was horrible but you didn't have the heart to tell her. she was so nice.

"So what is this good news you're here about?" she asked. Tony didn't actually tell you what his plan was. Not in full anyways so you were just as curious as her.

"Oh its a grant from the September foundation that he applied for. I approved." as far as bullshit made-on-the-spot excuses go, that was pretty good.

"Oh, he never told me that.

"He probably wanted to surprise you," you said to her

"Probably. Are you also a receiver of the grant?" she asked

"No. I'm interested in how the foundation is run so I asked to be here" she nodded. You didn't think she'd buy it but she did. Just as he said that the front door opens and a young guy walked in. He couldn't have been much younger than you. He had his earphones n and he was going on about this nice car parked outside. Tony's of course.

He saw the three of you on the sofa and he was clearly starstruck upon seeing Tony. He couldn't even speak without stuttering. He repeated his excuse to Peter and he surprisingly went along with it. Tony asked for five minutes alone with him and you were left in the living room with Aunt May. When they got out of the room, Peter informed his aunt that Tony invited him to the compound to talk more about the internship. You knew it was a lie of course because just a few hours later, Peter was standing next to you on the car to the airport.

~~~BERLIN~~~

Vision informed you that Clint came to get Wanda at the compound. Immediately, you knew this wasn't gonna end well. You don't want to fight her but you don't have a choice

As a last effort, you tried calling Steve but hews just declining your calls. Eventually, none of them would even go through.

~~~Fast forward~~~

"Steve, you know what's about to happen. Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?" Nat said.

"Just come with us. Please," you pleaded. He looked at the both of you

"Alright, I've run out of patience. Underoos!" yelled tony. just as he did, Peter grabbed Steve's should and landed on top of the helicopter

"Nice job kid"

"Thanks. I could've stuck the landing a little better. It's just the new suit but it's perfect, Mr. Stark" he went on this babbling for about 45 seconds. You thought it was funny.

~~~

"I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart," Tony said. You wanted the same thing. You all do.

"You did that when you signed," said Steve

"You're gonna turn Barnes over and you're gonna come with us now because it's us" You could hear the sadness and frustration in Tony's voice. "Come on" he whispered

You heard Sam's voice through Steve's earpiece "We found it. The quintet is in hangar five. North runway." you let out a deep breath. This was it. Steve raised his arm as Redwing cut through his restraints.

"Alright Lang," said Steve

"What the hell was that?" asked Rhodes

"I believe this is yours, Captain America"

"Oh great. There's two on the parking deck. One of them is Maximoff. I'm gonna go grab her. Y/n come with me. Rhodey, wanna take Cap?" said Tony as he grabbed you by the arm and flew towards Wanda... and Clint?

"There's two on the terminal. Wilson and Barnes"

"Barnes is mine," said T'Challa

~~~Fast Forward~~~

"Wanda. I think you hurt Vision's feelings"

"You locked me in my room."

"I did it to protect you."

"Wanda, stop this now. I don't want to fight you but you know I will."

"I can't live in fear anymore, y/n." and with that, she used her powers to drop cars at you.

"I'm done playing nice. You want a fight? I'll give you a fight." you said as you aimed fireblasts at her and Clint.

A fight has now ensued between the two teams. Tony attached a miniaturized jet pack to your back so you could chase after the others. Steve and the others were making a run for the hangar when Vision used his laser to stop them in their tracks. You landed in front of them, skin now glowing red from the fire inside you. The others followed suit.

"You must surrender now." Vision's voice thundered over you despite being in an open space. You were now face to face with your friends.

"What do we do, Cap?" asked Sam

"We fight."

"This isn't gonna end well," whispered Nat

"They're not stopping," said Peter

"Neither are we."

a/n: what do you guys think? I hope you like it. it's my first time writing fanfic. criticism would be greatly appreciated. part two coming soon depending on the response to this...

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classicmollywood · 4 years

Text

The Screwball Comedy Films Review

There’s a book in there, I promise! I can’t believe I am on review #4 for Out of the Past Blog’s 2020 Classic Film Reading Challenge! This has been a blast and made me (in a good way) keep up with my reading! And also try to get my photography skills improved (not really working but that’s okay!).

Okay, let’s get to the actual review. The book’s full title is The Screwball Comedy Films: A History and Filmography, 1934-1942 and it was written by Duane Byrge and Robert Milton Miller. When I first opened this book, I got a little nervous because the title and picture on the cover sold me, but the Table of Contents seemed very textbook like. It is a wonderful thing I ignored my original assumption, because this book was more of an enjoyable reference book than a bland textbook. The book is set up into four major sections which I believe was the smartest way to intrigue a reader. Why you might ask? Because it’s kind of like in baseball (sports?) where you do a wind up and a pitch before the batter hits a home run. The wind up and the pitch are the first three sections - which are Major Performers, Major Writers, and Major Directors. The home run comes in the last section, The Films, 1934-1942. The book also explains why screwball comedy is so great. So let’s talk about that now!

Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant can’t believe I mentioned baseball too! Source: Britannica

So I used the baseball analogy because the term ‘screwball’ actually comes from that sport. But I don’t wanna talk too much sports because this a book review and my baseball knowledge is limited. This book really pointed out the comparison though and made me realize why screwball comedies are called well, screwball comedies. You could say, oh these are just romantic comedies. STOP! NO, HOLD ON A SECOND. Screwball films combine a specific formula, which yes, includes a love story and some comedy, but goes more in a satirical zone whereas traditional romantic comedies don’t always do that. There is usually some slapstick, witty fast talk, and some sort of ‘untraditional’ romantic pairing that usually ignores socio-economic boundaries and one of the characters is so zany it is hard to believe they are real and the other one keeps getting dragged into zany shenanigans even though they are the practical one. This is a gigantic paraphrase, but Byrge and Miller really do a good job of describing what makes a comedy more of the screwy variety. They also taught me something I should have known... but didn’t.

In My Man Godfrey, Carole Lombard’s spoiled rich girl against William Powell’s butler is so Screwball. Source: Pinterest

It Happened One Night is crowned by the authors (and history) as the first ever screwball comedy. It has most of the identifiers above, and really was the guinea pig to see if this new genre would even survive. Once that film became a hit, earning Oscars galore, writers went full steam ahead to create that perfect chemistry that Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable had and the new ‘screwball formula’ that delighted audiences. I also learned that It Happened One Night had so many imitation films it isn’t even funny. The imitation was mainly in the plot, with the whole spoiled rich girl meets working class male on a cross country trip because she is escaping something or someone and then she realizes she doesn’t hate the working class life or the working class male.

The film that started it all! Source: Medium

The irony is Claudette Colbert starred in the first screwball and also in the last of the glorious period of screwball greatness that was 1934-1942. Colbert was in The Palm Beach Story with Joel McCrea. Why did screwball mania end? Because when a war is going on, it is kind of hard to focus on the fun shenanigans that follow the rich mixing with the poor with excitement. The Depression audience that started the screwball craze just simply grew out of it and had other things on their minds. But the ‘70s and ‘80s had a revival of sorts for the screwball genre (this book mentions What’s Up, Doc? and that is the perfect example of screwball revival).

The film that was the closing chapter of the screwball era’s highpoint. Source: BFI

The first three chapters of this book are more in paragraph form, but are easy to read because they explain things with just the right amount of info but not to the point where you start getting overwhelmed. My favorite section of the first three is the one on the performers, because it was fun reading which actors and actresses dominated the genre and which ones only did a real toe dip and then moved on. If you were wondering, Carole Lombard was pretty much the queen of screwball and was in quite a few of those films and usually played the zany one. Lombard knew minor success in various genres but really shined when she was a bit ‘screwy’. Cary Grant had similar luck like Lombard, and the genre catapulted him to superstardom. I could go on and on about the other stars of the genre, but then it wouldn’t leave you anything to read in the book.

Screwball royalty Grant and Lombard with Ronald Colman. The duo were in films together, but the main one is a drama. Source: bridiequality on Tumblr.

The reason why I loved the last section so much is because it lists almost all of the screwball comedies made between the ‘34 and ‘42 time period. It is also in chronological order and my brain works best chronologically when it comes to movies (my extensive movie collection is in chronological order and my friends think that’s weird but it isn’t! It’s how I am programmed, okay?!). The chapter lists the film, the year it was made, director, cast, does a small plot summary and also provides background on the film. For example, in the His Girl Friday spotlight, the authors talk about the plot and how Howard Hawks inspired the actors to do that rapid pace dialogue, which gives everything a more manic vibe. Then they describe how Rosalind Russell’s character is not the zany one this time, but in fact, it is Cary Grant’s character who gives us the doses of zany. They also explain how this film is the same yet different to others in the genre. The analysis of the films is very intellectual and you can tell the authors actually researched the films they are talking about, meaning it seems they actually watched the films they discuss. I have to point that out because it is obvious when someone is just talking the talk but has no clue what any of it means!

They sure talk fast in this film! Source: Mental Floss

This book is a winner for those who love screwball films, want to know more about them, or just love classic film. I will say if you are not movie minded, you won’t like it. It is a shorter read but you will probably view it as a more academic book than entertaining. I really enjoyed reading this book, and because I love telling anecdotes, I am glad I bought this book. Last summer I was in Asheville and went to a champagne bar/bookstore. I saw this book and was intrigued but thought it was super expensive, so I walked away. But then the next day, I kept thinking about this book, with Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell on the cover, and went back and told them to take my moneys. The book wasn’t too expensive and once I got around to it, I am grateful that Cary and Roz caught my eye.

#classic film reading #screwball comedy #The Screwball Comedy book review #book review #classic film #It Happened One Night #The Palm Beach Story #My Man Godfrey #His Girl Friday

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cherrysweather · 4 years

Text

As long as I live.

|Pairing: Simon Blackquill x Reader| |Genre: Angst| |Words: 3.029| -----------------------------------------------

[STARTING PROGRAM...]

“Can you hear me?” “Yes, bzzt”

[UPPER LIMBS CONNECTION...]

“Move your arms”

[CHECKED]

“Good.. Now, try move your head” The woman kept writing notes on both paper and in her computer as the tiny robot answered her commands.

[CERVICAL DYNAMICS...]

“Like this?” Asked the tiny artificial beign as he rotated his head with a full 360.

The woman giggled watching the robot who began to become familiar with his body. “Exactly like that”

[CHECKED]

“Now.. Try move your body forward”

[LOCOMOTION...]

The woman freed the robot from his base, leaving him free to move, then she took some papers from her desk, the papers where she could read all the tests she had to do to the robot. Meanwhile, the subject of these test was wandering around the lab, coming, at the end, near the woman who wore that heavy, dark blue coat,

[CHECKED].

“Good, looks like you are perfectly functional pretty boy” she patted his head and took a little box from the desk “Now, before the last tests, do you want a name?” she asked while smiling at the tiny beign before her.

“Yes! I want a name! A beautiful one! Please mom, give me a name!”

She stopped for a few seconds before leaving free a little laugh from her mouth. “Mom you say?” she took a piece of paper and a pen, starting to think for names. “I have a lot of names, but thinking about it, you are the realization of my dream so... Morpheco?” she turned her head towards the robot that started to party for his new name. “Thank you mom!” “You can search the origing of the name thanks to your brain if you want, in that way we can also make this a test” she said taking again the paper where she wrote all the results of the previous tests. “my research tells me that this name is similar to that of an ancient Greek deity, is that right?” He asks while spinning his head from one side to another doubtful “Exactly! You know, I have a sister whose name is Athena, like the Greek goddess, so I though about giving a deity’s name to you too, then the “-co” part is because you already have two sibilings and their names finish both with “-Co” so I wanted to connect you three with something” she smiled and got up from her chair, taking a box on another chair; her hands took a vial with some blood in it, returning near the robot after she unbuttoned the lowest buttons of her lab coat.

“You’re special, you know that?” her eyes pointed directly at the screen where the robot’s face was “In what way?” he asked, curious of understand why he was special “Well, if I say that I love you so much, how would you feel?” “I would feel like the happiest robot in the world!” “And if I punch you in the head?” she said and did it, but with the lowest effort in strenght “H-Hey! Of course I’d be angry at you mom! I did nothing wrong!” he patted the hitted zone “I’m sorry, but, did you know that I have a ot of superpowers?!” the woman said out of nothing, scaring at first the artificial creature “For real?! What kind of powers do you have?!” he asked like a baby, believing everything she told him “I can’t fly, turn invisible or things like that, but I can create a lot of things! Both artificially, like I did with you, and naturally, something I’m working on” her laughs filled the phrase, stroking his head gently “But, you do have superpowers compared to other robots, you and your sibilings, and the answers you gave me are the proof of this” “My answers? So, my feelings?” she nooded “You have an heart, something that a lot of other robots don’t have, you are capable of feel emotions. This makes you more human than any other machine”

Even if they were a flat screen, the robot’s eyes were trembling with joy, not only life, but this woman gave him an heart to make him more human, a coscience of its own.

“Now! I need to tell you why you’re here and why you have this wonderful thing called “Heart”; right?” her face was deformed by one of the brightest smiles on heart, her hand pressed a button on Morpheco’s torso and opened a tiny recess where she inserted the blood vial previously taken, pressing again the button. “Your programs should be able to analyze on their own that blood, it’s a sample of my blood; instead to continue talking, I wanted to try all of your abilities”

[ANALYZING...] Blood group:0+ Red blood cells: normal White blood cells: normal Platlets: normal Beta hcCG value: 74.715 Presence of substance HE4 in blood: high

“The last two results, what are they?” Morpheco asks, confused by the new, unusual informations “You can search by yourself”

After some minutes, one of the two big answers came in

“M-Mom! I’m going to be a big brother!” he waved his hand in the air from exitment “That’s it! Isn’t it?!” “Yes! Yes it it” she laughed, trying to calm down the robot “So, you have this big belly because you have a baby in there?” his artificial hands gently touched her stomach from above her clothes “Who is the dad? I want to meet him He’s also my dad right?” “We got married a few months ago, so theoretically yes, he’s also your father. His name is Simon, Simon Blackquill and he’s a prosecutor” “And the baby? It’s a boy or a girl?” “A girl! You are going to have a little sister”

But one thing was still to clarify; that substance in her blood, so the system of Morpheco started searching automatically what that was

“M-Mom..” his bubbly and exited attitude vanished in time of one second “This substance, the HE4, it’s a protein but, it also indicates the presence of an ovarian cancer” he looked at that tiny woman as she was tightening the sleeve of her blue jacket “Yes, can’t deny that” she putted on one beautiful smile, looking at the screen on the robot’s face, resting one hand on his head

“I have an ovarian cancer, yes. I have only have three and an half months to live, yes, but I don’t want to waste them, as I don’t want to ruin my daughter’s life, so that’s why you’re alive, I need your help” she looked right in his eyes, remaining calm despite her shiny eyes “There’s no time to desperate now”

“MOM! This isn’t fair! I’m just born and you are already telling me that you are going to leave me so soon?!” his voice was shaking like the rest of his body “S-Simon- Dad, knows this? Is he helping you?” he hoped for a positive answer; he didn’t want to lose his mom so soon. “No, he doesn’t know” she sighed and took her head in one hand “He already has his problems, this isn’t the time to share my situation with him” she watched the ring he gave her the day of their wedding, the day Simon smiled and smiled, nothing else. “Mom, just why?! You can go on a cure, you have to save yourself and sister!” but he imagined the answer ”It’s too late” “Hey, your sister will be alright, and, your aunt will help you here at the lab” she tried to talk as she wasn’t going to die without the joy, the hope of seeing her babygirl grow. “Now, could you please hear my request? The reason of why I’ve created you?” sobs came out of her mouth as she talked, noticing the nod of the robot to her words. “When I’m gone, would you please, help Simon? Would you be a friend, a brother, someone to count on for my daughter? Please..?” tears started to walk on her cheeks as she took both Morpheco’s hands in hers “This is your mission, what do you say?” a little smile came in her face as she raised her head. “Mom, I-I feel like I’m wet, inside?” “This feeling should be the equivalent of our tears, please, don’t cry, you are stronger than me, you must be” “Yes. I will help dad, I will be a good brother and someone to count on, I will be everything my sister needs!” his sobs decorated those desperate and sad screams before his sight went blurry.

[LOW BATTERY, TURNING OFF IN 1 MINUTE]

“It seems like you have to go to sleep, thank you for everything... In these days I’ll teach you everything you want to know” she pressed te button behind the head and the screen turned off.

Morpheco was brought back to its base to recharge and as soon as she picked all her papers, Ms. Blackquill left her lab.

Bad luck.

For once, Simon came to pick her up from work and he was right outside the door, back resting on the wall and his hand on his eyes, trembling.

Her blood froze in that istant and the heart stopped for a few seconds; she wanted so much to run inside the lab again and hide herself from reality, but her body approached the man in front of her, picking his free hand. “Hey beautiful, what are you doing here?” she acted like nothing happened, trying to keep inside the tears “When were you going to tell me? When you’d be one step from the grave?” he sounded cold, but his words trembled. “You understand that someone can’t get to know these kind of informations while the direct interested is talking with a robot. With a robot and not with her husband” he hated raising his voice to her, but he was panicking.

Him, a former jailer, couldn’t see himself as a single dad. Even with the help of Aura or Athena, or that robot, he won’t be able to have the confidence needed to raise a child. She remained in silence, knowing that she had made one of the biggest error in her life if not the biggest. “I tought you’d start hating me because I stopped you from comng at the echography, that’s when I’ve discovered it... I touhgt that would be an echography like any other” “You think too much” he freed his hand from her’s, walked away, trying to make the picture of the situation. Her heart started to fall in pieces, but she wasn’t mad at Simon, he was right, she was wrong. “I’m sorry, I realize now that I should have told you sooner and of my own free will, but I have created that robot, Morpheco, so that he will be by your side when it is neede-” “I need you by my side, not a fucking robot!”

Slowly her eyes pointed down, her brain stopped thinking about answers, she just fixed her papers and went to the elevator. As if he had teleported, Simon was behind her, and he selected the ground floor to go home.

He put one hand on her belly and his forehad on her head “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to raise my voice” he cuddled slowly her big belly, feeling some movements in it “She’s still moving” he smiled and kissed her head “One last month and she won’t be there anymore, she’s enjoing her time” she laughed softly and put her hand on his, trying to free Simon from her hair. His eyes were shining with tears as he slowly began to realize everything “I don’t want to be alone again and our daughter needs a mom” “I know that more than anything, and I feel so bad for this..” she squeezed his hand with strenght, turning her head towards his chest, feeling finally protected from everything when his arm held her close. “I guess in these last months we should to get used to this future” he his once again his face in her hair, keeping her close at his body.

“I’ll go on loving you, for as long as I live.” Months passed and they brought with them a big surprise; after the birth Blackquill heir was born, the contractions continued and it came to light that between the two things that could go unnoticed on the day of the echography, that was just the presence of a second fetus, developed long after the first: born prematurely but healthy as a fish was a little boy of just under two kilos.

Just after another day in court, Simon returned home but the silence strangely reigned, but luckly, entering the bedroom found those two trublemakers asleep with their beautiful mom. “You’re home late tonight” she said once Simon sat on the bed “Why you’re awake?” he discussed with a tired voice “I don’t want to sleep tonight, I’m scared” the fluids of the drip attached to her arm continued to make noise at every drop that fell “I feel like, if I sleep tonight, tomorrow I won’t wake up” she held the two babies in her arms, moving them gently to make them sleep “Come here” Simon’s heart began to beat wildly and tremble like a leaf as he took the three small forms in his arms “That robot turned out to be a lot more useful than I thought in these months“ he tried to avoid the direct topic right now, he could already feel the tears in his eyes “You see? I’ve made it, so of course it would have been useful” her smile did nothing but break more efficiently Simon’s heart “They’re in good hands” she cuddled both Simon’s and the babies’ faces, coughing after taking some air.

They both could feel that her life was coming to it’s end, they both weren’t ready; she didn’t want to leave her family, he didn’t want to lose the love of his life and be alone, once again.

“You know that I will love no more after you? You that were the start of my real life and my first love, first and only love” He gently pulled his fingers between her hair “You have to find someone else, someone who doesn’t keep secrets” she giggled at her own words “Shut up. You see this? This is the proof that I loved you and that I will always do, even if I won’t be able to touch your skin anymore” he said, touching the wedding ring on your finger with his’ “I only need our children and you to be happy, nothing more, “Simon... I don’t want to leave” she started crying without too much noises to not wake up the babies “Please, keep me awake, I want to stay with you another day, I want to see the babies grow” her sobs were suffocated in his chest, as his hand slowly passed from her hair to the babies’ heads “Do you remember the first time we met? You were so cheerful, Athena was so curious and happy to be with you” “You were too much devoted to my mom, you never smiled but you were kind and sweet” she smiled between her tears, covering Simon’s body with the heavy blankets.

They continued to talk about their past together fot minutes and hours, but diseases make people tired, and her wish to stay awake slowly faded away, but thanks to Simon’s words, she didn’t even realize the fact that she was slowly falling asleep.

“Simon, you know that I love you?” her tired eyes looked towards him as she continued to cough due to her sickness “If you know it now, please don’t forget it. You will be the best father in the world even without me, you’ve been my best friend, my brother, then my partner and now my husband and father of my children, you will do fine” her smile was printed on her lips and the coughs never stopped as she talked “Please, don’t give up, keep going for them..” she took his hands and slowly pressed her lips on his. She didn’t want to ruin his life like that, she didn’t want him to feel so bad that he cried at her, she didn’t want to die, she didn’t want to see him try to keep her to himself in those childish ways, but she had zero control over the situation.

“I love you” one last wisper came out from her lips before her head fell on the pillow, asleep.

Simon watched her figure with tears in the eyes, keepig her hand in his’ and letting then himself fall into Morpheus’ arms, tired both physically and mentally.

The alarm ended Simon’s sleep, which stretched to the bedside table to turn it off. He rubbed his eyes and sat on the mattress, stretched his back and tried to wake up despite that grip that held his heart.

“If I sleep tonight, tomorrow I won’t wake up”

His head snapped towards the other side of the bed.

His face became gloomy, he felt something inside him shatter.

She was gone. He looked at her in all her beauty, immaculate and illuminated by the morning sun; her purple lips, her eyelids closed and her hair messed on the pillow made her one of the most beautiful visions of his life, if only her body had kept her soul with it.

He then looked at his two babies, still asleep in the most peaceful sleep, in the most comfy arms.

His hand kept on holding hers, now cold like ice but still beautiful like no one else’s.

He took the babies from her arms and brought them back to their room. He hoped that she was on her feet again when he came back, but nothing.

Simon laid down next to her and brought the finger with the ring to his mouth, trembling like a scared baby, trying ro squeeze her hand with all of his strenght to make her react.

Useless.

He just stayed there, powerless and broken inside, waiting for a call from his hungry children.

“Please... Please come back...”.

This piece’s remake!

OK SO, this is my big debut, I’m sorry that this tourned out so damn long and maybe boring :( but I hope anyway that you all liked this “thing”, I can also write some sequels of this (shorter, OF COURSE). I hope you didn’t cried like I did :c

Now I’ll probably work on some pokemon stuff, waiting for requests uwu Luv u all! <3

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missjanjie · 4 years

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Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) | (2/?)

Title: Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) Summary: A sequel to Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa are back at NYU, but with new and improved positions. Brooke’s ready to start her career as a professor when, as fate would have it, she realizes her TA, Jackie, might have the hots for a student named Jan. The couple just might see it as a sign to give two new girls the love story they found in the same place. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~6.1k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Jankie (Jan Sport/Jackie Cox) Rating: E

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Jackie stood in the center of her apartment, hands on her hips, and exhaling deeply. She had spent the past few hours cleaning the place from top to bottom. Had it been a bit over the top? Perhaps, but she felt like she would be better off being too thorough than not enough. Maybe it wasn’t the first impression Jan would have of her, but it was one that would count.

She checked the time on her phone – she had finished with ten minutes to spare. Regardless of anything else, she was pretty proud of what she had accomplished, and she probably could put off cleaning for a couple weeks now. Who knew all she needed was just the right bit of motivation? With the time she had left, she poured herself a glass of wine. She earned it. Beyond that, she needed it.

A few moments later, there was a knock at the door and Jackie narrowly avoided spilling what was left of her wine as she set it down on the counter and raced to open the door. “Hey Jan,” she greeted casually, as if she hadn’t nearly tripped over herself to race to the door.

“Hi Jackie,” Jan chirped as she walked in, unaware of what had transpired, nor did she pick up on the fact that Jackie seemed slightly out of breath. “Okay,” she prompted, setting a purple folder on the table, “I’m ready for audition prep 101 with Miss Cox.”

Jackie picked up the folder, hand lingering on the counter while she decided whether or not to grab the glass as well. She settled against it, leading Jan into the living room. “So, how many songs do you have it narrowed down to?”

“I got it down to three,” she replied, waiting for Jackie to open the folder to see the pieces of sheet music as well as a few typed up monologues. “I have a couple tried and true ones, and one that’s a little new to me, but I think it fits the vibe of the show better.”

“Smart thinking,” Jackie praised, looking at the sheet music. “Who are you auditioning for again?”

“I thought it over, and I’m gonna go for Veronica. It’s kind of out of my comfort zone, but that’s what excites me about it, you know? If there was ever a chance to break out of what I usually do, this would be it,” Jan explained. “So, if that narrows it down any further…”

“Oh, it only leaves one option,” Jackie said simply. “‘Everything Else’ is the only one with the right energy, the other ones are too… cute, too lighthearted.” She handed Jan the sheet music.

Jan nodded and took the paper. “I trust you implicitly.”

“At your own risk.” Jackie chuckled. “Will you sing for me? I’d like to hear you go through your number, see if anything needs to be tweaked,” she told her, but she also just really wanted to hear her sing. Jan seemed so bright and confident, she was eager to know where that came from.

And Jan seemed more than willing to oblige. “Of course, I have the music on my phone, if you have a speaker or something that I can plug into.”

Jackie nodded and helped Jan get set up. “I want you to run through the whole thing, that way we can pick out the best section for your sixteen bars,” she explained. She sat down on her couch, looking as Jan stood in front of her, the student taking a few preparatory breaths.

And then Jan started singing, and everything made sense for Jackie - why Jan was in this program, why she exuded such a positive confidence. Her voice was immaculate, it captivated Jackie’s attention even more than their first meeting. And she must have shown her approval, because Jan seemed excited by her expression once she’d finished the song.

“So that was good?” Jan asked, eyes bright and hopeful.

“Perfect, are you sure you even need my help?” Jackie teased. “Here, I’m gonna highlight the bars on the sheet music,” she said, standing up and motioning her over to the dining room table.

Jan moved to stand right behind Jackie, perched up on her tiptoes to rest her chin on her shoulder, hand resting on her waist. “I’m excited about this. I wish you could be in the room or something, like a good luck charm.”

Jackie let out a soft chuckle. “You think I’m a good luck charm?”

She shrugged and smiled. “I dunno, I feel a good energy with you. Like, your presence is warm and calming. It’s a good balance, considering my default is the same as a person that took half a bottle of caffeine pills.”

That brought a slight blush to Jackie’s cheeks. She turned, giving her a hug, one she wanted more than she would ever let on. “Well, that’s very kind of you to say.”

“You smell nice,” Jan observed before Jackie pulled back from the hug.

“Oh, thank you.” Jackie grinned, doing her damndest not to get flustered. “Um, do you want something to drink? I was having a glass of wine myself,” she said, already walking over to her glass.

“I’m not twenty-one, but I won’t tell if you won’t,” she hummed.

Jackie chuckled, pouring Jan a glass as well. “I’m from Canada; it’s eighteen there, so we can play by my rules.” She winked.

Jan’s brow rose as she accepted the glass. “Oh, so you’re the boss here?” she asked as she took a sip.

“This is my house,” she pointed out with a light laugh. “Ergo, my rules.”

“Oh, we’re using our fancy adverbs now. Point taken,” Jan teased, then held her glass up. “Cheers!”

Jackie grinned, clinking their glasses and taking a sip. And for a moment, everything was calm and relaxed, but then there was a sudden, loud crack of thunder that made them both jump. They both looked out the window and saw that rain was pouring down as if it were a storm of biblical proportions.

“Shit, it’s really coming down hard out there,” Jan observed. “Wasn’t even raining when I got here.”

“I can’t let you go back out there,” Jackie shook her head. “You can stay here at least until the rain lets up, I don’t mind if you crash here if it doesn’t,” she offered.

Jan let out a small sigh of relief. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, of course,” she replied, as if she hadn’t been hoping for the offer. “It’ll be fun, we can get wine drunk and watch bad reality TV.”

Jackie started to open her mouth to agree, then paused. “Have you eaten yet? You should definitely have some dinner if you’re going to keep drinking,” she said, setting her glass down so she could go and rifle through her fridge. “I have leftover sushi if you want, or I can make sandwiches or something.”

Something about the naturally kind and doting demeanor Jackie had instantly put Jan at ease. It made her feel warm and comfortable, like they had known each other for years without the awkward pretenses that sometimes came with meeting someone new. “Whatever’s easier. I’m not a picky eater.” She shrugged.

While Jackie decided on the sushi and got that out, Jan was pouring herself another glass of wine, and topped Jackie’s glass off as well. “Thank you,” she hummed when Jackie handed her the plate, setting it on the table and sitting down to eat. “Y’know, everyone always says that sushi never tastes as good on the second day, but like, they’re just snobs. It’s totally just as good. Or maybe my standards are low, whatever.”

Jackie giggled softly as she listened. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol that made Jan ramble like that, or if that was just part of her personality. Either way, she thought it was adorable, and sat next to her as she hung onto her every word. “I think leftovers are underrated as a whole,” she agreed.

“You get me.” Jan beamed, one hand over her heart and the other on Jackie’s shoulder.

She bit down on her lip, not knowing how loud the laugh that nearly escaped would’ve been, and put her hand on top of Jan’s. “I try,” she cooed, then stood up. “Come on, let’s go watch TV,” she said and moved them to the couch, then topped off their glasses.

Jan sat down next to Jackie, as close as she could physically be without sitting on her lap. In her defense, this was always how she’d get after a couple of drinks – touchy-feely, flirty, and yes, even more talkative than normal, as demonstrated by the tangent she went off on about the show they were watching.

And Jackie wasn’t exactly complaining – especially about the touchy-feely part. The alcohol was affecting her as well; the part of her brain that was constantly plagued with overthinking and worry was always the first to go once she started to get tipsy, and neither of them had stopped drinking as they continued half-watching TV.

“God, you’re so pretty,” she said, not realizing it was out loud.

Not that it would’ve been a problem, as Jan just seemed to appreciate the compliment. “Aw, thank you! I think you’re super pretty too.”

“Do you really?”

Jan scoffed. “Of course I do. I thought you were hot since I first saw you,” she said, tossing her ponytail off her shoulder as she picked her glass back up.

“This is news to me,” Jackie admitted as she had more to drink as well.

“That’s why I’m telling you, duh,” she giggled, then turned to better face her. “Your hair is so nice and thick and shiny,” she observed, immediately going to play with it, running her hands through it and twirling pieces around her fingers.

Jackie let out a content sigh as Jan’s fingers wove through her hair. “Careful,” she warned, “this is practically foreplay for me.”

Jan smirked, her arms draping around Jackie’s neck. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but neither of them would’ve been able to say who initiated the kiss, just that one second they weren’t kissing, and the next second they were. They could still taste the wine one each other’s lips as they let the deep, languid kiss continue.

Jackie pulled Jan onto her lap, arms wrapping around her waist. She trailed her lips along Jan’s jaw and down her neck, starting by just kissing and nipping along the expanse of skin before leaving a mark just where her neck met her collarbone. Her hands moved up and down Jan’s body, starting to push up her shirt.

Jan was a bit more direct, swiftly undoing the buttons on Jackie’s blouse and slipping it off her shoulders. Their lips reconnected in another heated kiss, and she gripped Jackie’s hair with one hand while the other pushed her bra up and palmed over her breast.

That gave Jackie enough reason to follow her lead, pulling Jan’s shirt off and pulling her close, their bodies flush up against each other. She unhooked her bra soon after, tossing it aside and letting her hands explore Jan’s bare torso.

The way Jackie’s hands felt against her body sent goosebumps all over Jan’s skin. Jackie’s hands were smooth and warm and made her arch into each touch. She started to grind against Jackie as well, straddling her thigh to better do so.

Jackie was fairly certain that she had never seen anything hotter than Jan grinding on her thigh, or heard anything hotter than the little whimpers and whines she let out. It landed on top of Jan’s sheet music, pushing a couple pages onto the floor, but neither of them noticed in the slightest.

Any sense of control or inhibition that Jan had entered Jackie’s apartment with had long since gone out the window. She tossed her head back, letting out sharp, breathy moans as she continued to grind on Jackie’s thigh with more and more fervor and desire.

Jackie caressed Jan’s body, hands moving up and down her sides, memorizing every curve with her fingertips. She pressed open-mouthed kisses between her breasts, down to her stomach as far as she could reach, eyes flicking up to watch the expression of relaxed pleasure on Jan’s face.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Jan’s voice was higher, more strained, and it wasn’t long before she realized she was chasing the orgasm that was rapidly approaching. Her hips were bucking more erratically and she was grabbing onto Jackie wherever she could.

“That’s it, come for me,” Jackie cooed, kissing and sucking at Jan’s neck as she held her through her orgasm. And once she felt Jan let herself go limp in her arms, she scooped her up and carried her into bed.

They laid in bed quietly, nothing but the sounds of thunder and rain hammering against the windows to be heard. It was calm, but with the distant tinge of anxiety because neither of them knew what to say. What was there to say after that?

Jackie turned to face Jan, hoping the words would come to her. But to her relief, Jan had passed out. And Jackie had to admit, she looked just as beautiful asleep.

------

Jan was the first to wake up the next morning, groggy and disoriented, but not quite hungover. She wasn’t sure how she should feel about waking up topless in Jackie’s bed – guilty? Confused? Stressed? It wasn’t that she regretted it, but she was afraid that it would complicate what was supposed to be a friendship at most.

Time was ticking away before Jackie would wake up, and Jan needed to decide what she wanted to do, and quickly. She pushed herself out of bed and went into the other room to get dressed. As she went back into the bedroom, she noticed that Jackie had personalized stationary on her desk (because of course she did). Jan decided that leaving a note and bailing was the best option - it was more personal than a text and she was still able to avoid confrontation.

Hi Jackie!

Sorry to run out on you like this, I had to get somewhere in a rush. But I had a great time with you last night, and I’ll see you in class on Monday. :)

Jan ♥

Jan wondered if the heart was too much, but decided it would be worse to erase it, so she left it on Jackie’s nightstand and quietly left. And she kept her fast pace, making it back to her dorm in record time. The second she got back to her dorm, she flopped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow.

“Rough night?” Lemon asked as she casually looked over at her disheveled and distressed roommate. “Not like you to spend it elsewhere.”

“Got caught in the storm, stayed with a friend,” she mumbled as she sat up.

Lemon arched her brow. “You get hickies from your friends often?”

Jan’s eyes widened as she turned to look in the mirror. Sure enough, there were multiple visible bruises littering her neck. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Looks like someone already did.”

“We didn’t have sex!” she insisted, unable to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. “I mean, even by lesbian standards, it wasn’t sex. We weren’t even naked.”

Lemon continued to look at Jan as if she were insisting the Earth was flat. “First of all, as a lesbian, I have no fucking idea what ‘lesbian standards’ are and I don’t want to know. Second, Even if it wasn’t ‘technically’ sex, it was enough to get you all worked up like this.”

Jan groaned and laid on her back. “It just shouldn’t have happened… It was my TA, Lem.”

“Damn, you gonna get some extra credit at least?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know why I tell you things,” she murmured, reaching for her phone. She knew telling Gigi wouldn’t be any easier, but it wasn’t exactly something she would be able to keep as a secret.

And when Jan did meet up with Gigi, she wasn’t dreading the confession any less. They sat in a booth at a nearby diner, placing a brunch order before she decided she needed to just rip the bandage off. “I spent the night with Jackie.”

Gigi nearly spit her coffee out at that. “You did? Why? What happened? Don’t you skip any fucking details, Sport.”

Jan chewed on her lip. “The storm was really bad, so we decided I’d just stay there. Then we had some wine… well, a lot of wine. And we… We didn’t fuck, per sé, but things got very heated.”

“That would explain why you’re wearing a scarf in seventy degree weather.” she nodded as if she were making an astute observation. “So what happened when you guys woke up?”

Jan’s gaze drifted down to the table. “I woke up before she did, left her a note and went back to my dorm while she was asleep.”

Gigi looked at her friend like she was ready to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. But instead she just asked, “Are you fucking stupid?”

To which Jan shrugged and replied, “Maybe.” There was a brief pause as they received their meals. “But can you be specific as to why, though?”

“This was literally a sign that you guys have a connection, at least a physical one. The least you could’ve done is talk to her, how’s she going to take it as anything other than you not being interested, and don’t you try and act like you’re not.”

“I’m not not interested,” Jan conceded. “I just… It shouldn’t have happened like this, you know? I went over there to practice for my audition, not to dry hump her fucking thigh.”

Gigi did her best to listen and be the supportive friend that Jan clearly needed. “Look, you can’t un-fuck up how you handled that,” she started. “We just need to figure out where to go from here.”

Jan nodded in agreement as she picked at her food. Where did she go from here? Her heart said back to Jackie, but her brain said into a coma, ideally.

#jankie #rpdr rpf #rpdr fanfiction #i didnt tag branjie bcs this is a jankie-centric chapter

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meandmyechoes · 4 years

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Author’s Notes on #crackship fireworks

(scroll down for ship-specfic notes.)

Their (placeholder?) ship name is Fireworks. Because it's a one time, brilliant passion, but it wouldn't last. Violence is a gentle expression. It's also where they meet.

i’m so embarrassed this is my first time creating romance.

idk i’ve shipped before, even harder but idk why this make me blush so much! oh the pressure from a viral meme! and it’s the first really crack ship that I devote an unholy amount of time on (i.e. since 8a.m. July 21st), not even YJ’s famous crack armada could prepare me for this.

usually i get so wrapped up with canon materials, or canon subtext i don’t really need to create all these scenarios in my head, even for lifelong OTPs like Bones or Ulumi because Canon was just enough but this time I feel like I flung myself into a tempest as much as we put these fictional people through and I’m completely ignoring all the rules. I’m stepping out of my comfort zone to really own these characters and create a whole different version for them, that’s just what I’d never do before. Even what I vowed to despise before.

I mean, am I taking this a little more seriously than it needed? Yeah, but i’m like that, obsessed, infatuated and can’t pull out until time drowns me. so with my current caffeine levels, it’s gonna stay for another 24 hours until the embarrassment wins over.

I’m essentially writing OCs here under a prescribed name and it make all the butterflies rattle in my stomach. To exaggerate, I'm fainting like Zuko after he made a good decision.

the popsicle drabble has swum in my head several days before, when I was totally bored and shamelessly put a self-insert in the cat. idk just wanted to paint an idyllic scene because my whole weekend was ruined. it was okay sitting in my brain but the thought of over 100 people is willing to read it just swung a sledgehammer at my face and how i couldn’t possibly name the cat after myself. I gave him the boy version of my name to "symbolize" something but we have to work around that now. Yeah it kinda upset the following ripples but nothing i can’t handle. (wow i just checked the drafts it’s been swimming since july 16th 1:06am)

In regard to the ship(’s future), i did wrote a premise meta for how I’ll grow their relationship. I still have to fine-tune it so they mimic more of their canon personality, or not. There are some details need noted.

i have to be honest. i planned seven chapter titles so far, up to the break-up and maybe reunion. it’s really the angsty reunion that i was interested about and half-dribbled last night in dialogues. but at that point it’s beyond salvage. the other dates are all tropey cliche that i’m contented just have it float in my head. even if i write them they’ll be extremely short lol. i think i’ll write one or two more chapters to kind of pushed them into ‘dating’ at least, but I have zero confidence i’ll actually commit lol.

I have personal grievances with stupid people who [...] cannot accept reality that they can only find fulfillment in polarized AUs. (@meandmyechoes, ships. 2. (unpopular opinion), retrieved 21st July, 2020 16:02)

HA. haha. i'm literally so sorry for obsessing over feral/ahsoka the past 24 hours, and like my past fever dreams, it's likely to fade in the next 24. I just wrote a shameless self-insert the audacity is killing me. seriously this is the deepest craziness I've sunken into since TCW finale and I single-handedly destroyed any pretense of sanity I have on this site. I swear this is just a grief recovery phase and I in fact, is indeed an idiot grinning behind the plasma screen.

you see i would also like to return to regular programming of crying over skyguy and snips which is why my arsenal of sad gifsets are ready to strike back (with bonus sad Rex and Obi-Wan if i can manage)

*****

hey just wanna say i was completely drunk on caffeine last night/this morning and what a fever dream it had been. And now I've been in hangover for nearly 12 hours with a racing heart and paranoid compulsion like a headless fly. And, I want to conclude by, this is not what I want to go down with.

#crackship fireworks #myechoes #cries please don't remeber me for this #my legacy should be well-researched metas and tragic :/ gifsefs welp #also i'm writing phantoms now i said birthday right? it's been a WHOLE month lol #imagine a newbie coming to the fandom next year #and people point at me and say oh yeah she is the crackpot that ships Kenobi's grandpadawan with Darth Maul's baby brother #also she spent a decade staring at Ahsoka's lekku #you'll find the world one more dark-sider #ships

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learnwithmasterminds · 4 years

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GCSE Science Revision Courses

LEARN WITH MASTERMINDS

“A teacher’s Cry”

“A bumpy road”

Here I am, in a position to transfer my passion, knowledge and skills in science to the younger generation. Working at a school could not be better where I have the opportunity to interact with children and make a difference. However, as I take the journey of becoming an “expert teacher” progress slows due to a few bumpy roads.

Bumpy road one…..packed class sizes, a teacher to student ratio of 1:30. There is no doubt that in every class variation in abilities exist. A powerful tool to tackle these variations lies with a teacher’s ability to plan effective lessons. During the first year of my Teacher training, I have participated in small group interventions. It was evident, that varying abilities even existed within higher ability groups. Observing colleagues, being reflective on my own teaching practice, engaging in weekly readings and Continuing Professional Development (CPD) sessions have enhanced my teaching practice and pedagogy. This leads to improvements when dealing with differences in abilities. Crowley et al., 2018 stated in “The Ultimate Guide to Differentiation” that there are a variety of factors that affect how children learn and should be taken into consideration when lesson planning. Some examples are pupils’ special educational needs (SEN), differences in abilities, speaking English as an additional language (EAL students), physical disabilities, age group and the level of prior knowledge, motivation and concentration. The scariest question I ask myself frequently as a teacher is whether the needs of all my pupils being met. Even though there is room for improvements within the other teaching standards, I can honestly admit that I have found teaching standard five the most challenging. In accordance with teaching standard five, teachers should use a variety of differentiated approaches to adapt to learning for varying abilities. A teacher’s awareness of the factors that can inhibit a pupil’s learning can be combat by keeping up to date with recent research, applying new strategies within the classroom and critically evaluating and reflecting on strategies trialled. It is also vital to have an understanding of how pupils learn throughout their stages of development. All of our Mastermind programs are based on a teacher-student ratio of 1:10. Lessons are planned before delivery to cater for varying abilities. Revision courses are also based on examiners reports; a report produced yearly that concludes all the topics and skills of difficulty faced by the students that took the actual exams that year. Our small class sizes also come in handy for our live online-required laboratory experiments that are tested on the actual exams. These experiments are explained in detailed so that students obtain rich knowledge on scientific concepts.

Bumpy road two……..” The best place for students to learn is at school with their peers”. A study showed that most children hate school. In a way, I do agree with the children’s feeling. Put yourself in their shoes. How would you feel in you were sat in a classroom and being taught to pass an exam rather than having the opportunity to do other “fun stuff”? One of the factors mentioned earlier, that could inhibit a pupil’s ability to learn is lack of motivation (Crowley, 2018). It is not surprising that some students struggle terribly with academics. Some schools do not cater for non- academic students; I strongly believe that due to the lack of choices, some students become disengaged. For example, some students may be interested in more “Hands-on” courses such as hair and beauty, sewing or carpentry. Claxton et al., 2008 states that children do not like school due to a rather boring curriculum. The study concluded that teachers felt that schools were more about passing examination results rather than teaching life skills that aid students in their transformation into adulthood. Some of the subjects that teachers thought would be beneficial to the curriculum were global awareness, human rights and managing risks. In addition, Teachers also thought that the following courses would make difference ethics, body awareness, resilience, and relaxation. A study “Draw a teacher” in Finland consisted of 428 fifteen-year-old students and 134 of their teachers. The study concluded that both teachers and students agreed with the values that an ideal teacher should possess. Some of the frequent ideals included honesty, forgiveness, loyalty, broadmindedness, equality and world at peace (Ellis, 2013). Children view teachers as role models; expectations should be set and maintained through consistency. Children will follow suit resulting in successful lesson outcomes. Masterminds courses do not only focus on academics, but we also conduct a lot of fun and engaging activities that focus on transferable skills. Report cards are sent home to parents three times a year that focuses on both academics and transferable skills. Parents also have the opportunity to attend face-to-face online meetings to discuss pupil’s progress. Our expectations are high for all our students and we act as positive role models so that children can follow suit.

Bumpy Road three……. Here at Learn with Masterminds we want to push our students but at the right level! Schools are singing the same song in a teacher’s ear. The kids need a challenge! The kids need a challenge! Can challenge always be seen as good? The level of challenge can inhibit pupils’ learning. Author Cowley S. could not have stated it better in the author’s “Top ten teaching tips”. It is important to be “flexible” and know how to “strike a balance”. If the content is too simple or difficult this may allow students to become off task or disengage completely from the lesson (Cowley, 2013). Vygotsky states that social interaction is the key to learning. This is because people learn through the experiences of others. Vygotsky stated that people learn from MKO (Most Knowledgeable Others) in a Zone of Proximal Development. The Zone of Proximal Development is an area where learning takes place with the help of an MKO. The Zone of Proximal Development is an aspect of scaffolding and can be best achieved by assessing a student’s prior knowledge, encouraging group work, allowing an MKO to lead the group, breaking down complex information into simpler forms and introducing the challenge to stretch an individual out of their comfort zone. Scaffolding a building provides it with structure, as the building progresses the scaffolds are removed. Scaffolding techniques can be used through modelling to explain a task thoroughly; students -teacher interactions can be used to boost practice. As the student's practice increases, the level of teacher support should decrease gradually. As the level of challenge increases, the level of competency also increases within an individual’s zone of proximal development. If the work is too difficult, students can become disengaged and if the work is too easy, students could become bored, increasing behavioural problems (Bates, 2019). Learn with Mastermind courses are strongly based on Vygotsky’s theory of learning and Rosenshine’s ten principles on instruction with aspects of the challenge being pitched at the right level.

Bumpy road four… The school curriculum seems separate but we should bring maths, geography into science, English into science. All these subjects should be taught in a way that shows students a linkage. However, for some reason students perceive all these subjects as different. For example in biology students are taught Ecology, this is a brilliant time to talk about global warming which should have been learned in geography! Learn with masterminds Implements Maths and English into science! These workshops aid to enhance graphing, data analysis, grammar and punctuation skills. Why should English and Mathematics be implemented across science? In 2007, 44% of students obtained a baseline pass in GCSEs (Minimum of five GCSEs including Mathematics and English). Around 350,000 teenagers struggle with Mathematics and English (Claxton, 2008). During a CPD session, I have learned that in Britain 1 in 20 adults have a reading age of five years old and about 28% of adults have a literacy level of 1 or below (grades D-G).

Bumping road five… When schools refuse to stretch the pounds. Carpel, Leask and Younie, 2019 states that there are two types of motivation. Motivation can be intrinsic; this occurs when students engage with an activity for their own sense of pleasure. Motivation can also be extrinsic; this occurs when students are engaging with an activity to obtain for example a prize. It worries me, that some schools have no homework policy. I had recently issued a piece of homework during a sequence of learning. About 20% of class completed the homework and were given positive points for their efforts. There is absolutely no consequence for the students that never bothered to complete the homework. It is a culture shock for me to see that student’s books are left at the back of classrooms, students being reluctant to complete homework and participate with independent learning. What are we teaching our kids for University level of study? I teach my year 11 class, three times over two weeks. It is not enough time to master a concept fully. The practice is required outside of school to allow for a mastery. Once a task is repeated numerous times, your brain stores the information and tasks become automatic (Willingham, 2009). Are summative exams good or bad? Looking at the positive end, good grades on a test can increase a pupil’s level of motivation. This success builds confidence and sparks a student to achieve more (Carpel, Leask and Younie, 2019).Assessments can affect a student’s level of performance and self-esteem. There are three main issues surrounding assessments. Firstly, assessments are inconsistence, are not shared or evaluated among teaching staff. How can we tell if pupils are being tested on what they need to know? Secondly, the majority of the times grades are given only rather than written advice that will allow a student to address misconceptions. Grades only feedback is unfocused and lacks the ability to amend gaps in knowledge. Research has shown that issuing grades only after a test can defeat the purpose of the feedback process. Thirdly, predictions are made on a teacher’s own set of grades; the previous years are not taken into consideration. Some teachers are incompetent and are unaware of the teaching needs of pupils (Black and William 2006). Weekly homework forms a part of our Masterminds courses to allow for practice, mastering and time for students to respond to feedback. Both grades and written improvements are given and students are required to act on these. Good grades, attitude and punctuality can increase a student’s chance of obtaining a £25 student of the month gift card! Should we have standardised exams or summative assessments? I truly believe that testing a student based on grades only is not the most effective strategy. We need to allow the students to release their creativity to form their inner self. What exactly is the purpose of education? We are moulding young people to become well-rounded individuals. Young people must be tested on transferable skills for example teamwork, communication or public speaking. I think that a student’s final grade should be a mixture of both coursework and exams. Coursework assignments are a useful tool for assessing a student’s ability as anxiety is reduced. In addition, the new generation is focused on technological improvements for example smartphones and tablets. These create “noise” and takes away from the “thought process”. The curriculum should shift from an exam perspective to life skills or Mindfulness. “Mindfulness” is important for the brain’s relaxation; technologies create noise and “loss of thought” resulting in a “loss of creativity” (Stephen and Warwick 2015).

Becoming less Bumpy 6…………….. Learn with Masterminds is an online tutoring business providing services to GCSE students. The business main goal is to support students outside the classroom due to the demands within a classroom. We did not open this business to exploit parents. We opened a business because we care! Hence, our prices are the cheapest compared to other businesses in the Kent area. What are you waiting for? Why not check out our website at www.learnwithmasterminds.com follow us on Facebook. Instagram and Twitter!

#gcse2021 #gcse #tutoring #gcse tuition #learnwithmasterminds

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despiteinspite · 4 years

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On Shop Windows and Being

“I include the personal here to connect the social forces on a specific, particular family’s being in the wake to those of all Black people in the wake; to mourn and to illustrate the ways our individual lives are always swept up in the wake produced and determined, though not absolutely, by the afterlives of slavery.” (Sharpe 2016, 5)

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In one of my classes, my peer, Joi, shared her experience as a black ballerina. Their practice space was in a closed-down shoe store. The floors were replaced. Big mirrors and balance bars were installed against the walls, and across from the door lined tall shop windows. On the first day of class, at ten years old, Joi and the rest of the dancers sat cross-legged as their instructor introduced themselves. After sharing their names, their instructor told them, "Now as black girls - as black ballerinas, there aren't too many of us. Remember, they can see you." Joi explained to us the importance and the pain of this message. In her practice space, in her learning space, she did not feel free to make a single mistake. Because if she did, she'd not only be disappointment to her own reflection in the practice mirror, but reflect failure to those behind the glass.

What does it mean to be black, to be girl and constantly balancing, expanding, stretching, and splitting yourself into perfection? What can that mean for this body? Claude M. Steele makes Brent Staples' experience whistling Vivaldi the title of his first book in his decades-long career. Steele's work is to examine stereotype and how it affects all of us in a way that prevents us from living without burden or stress. In understanding identity and stereotype's threat to identity formulation, Steele shares Staples' experience as an example of not only the cognition a person experiencing stereotype threat may have, but tactics to cope. For Staples, he deflects fear against him and within him by whistling classical music. In this way, Staples reads as safe to passersby on his walk. As Steele writes, "This caused him to be seen differently, as an educated, refined person, not as a violence-prone African American youth." (Steele 2010, 7) And as I read this in class, I immediately think of another boy marked by youth and dark skin. Emmett Till, 14 years old, was deemed unsafe - in fact, deemed lethal target - due to whistling.

And whether or not Till did whistle does not matter, for many reasons. What matters is that it was reason enough.

For Till, whistling was justification for torture. For Staples, whistling was the only safety net he could think of. It strikes me how truly precarious being black is. There is no singular trick that can be universalized to promise our survival. Be it whistling, walking home, driving with your kids, being President, being President's daughters. There is no safety in this black skin.

When I think back to what my past career plans were and how they and my current experiences have shaped my future goals, I think it was always rooted in attempted escape. For the ability to slip into an imaginary that hugged me, a world that embraced me. For a long time, I coveted for a reality that loved me. I decided to use this space to explore each previous career plan that I translated to an iteration of Me. Be it writer, President or policymaker- I chose these titles because I could feel it projecting a Me the world could love. I yearn(ed) so much for a world that would just love Me.

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Vocabulary was never my strong suit. It still isn't. And, when we were made to take those spelling tests in elementary school, I drilled myself as much as possible. Before test day, I'd eat alphabet soup for good favor from the Letter Gods; Give me that S on my paper. Even then I knew after all the preparation, I was never going to find myself using the words. Humongous? Big would be fine enough. Be damned synonyms. Be damned precision. I knew enough words to say what was on my mind without needing to do all that studying. But, I wasn't gonna be caught slipping on something everyone else was excelling in.

In fact, that's how I knocked out my two front teeth. My siblings were losing their teeth left and right, purchasing freeze pops after the Toothfairy's fair bargain. So, I grabbed one of my wood blocks, and knocked any loose tooth I could find. Twisted them until my gums gave out and gave up. And now here I am, teeth at a slant and still craving those sweets.

This vocabulary test offered extra credit, something I knew someone in my state - bloody gums, sticky fingers, alphabet soup brain - would need. We were told to make a short story, 10 sentences max, using at least 5 of the vocabulary words. So I made Ten, a young girl aged 9 with too much time on her hands, trying to whack her teeth out. Only thing I remember is that she rode a humongous hot air balloon, tied a brick around her teeth and chucked it into the air. The tooth went with it. Poor Ten. She was a Junie B. Jones copy to be sure, but she got me my S. My teacher pulled me aside and told me I was a great writer. A writer. Suddenly, it felt fitting to call myself: Stephanie, the writer. The one day published author. I had a definition of Me that felt so much cooler, so suave compared to my peers. I was going to be a writer.

I wrote all through middle school. Finished the Saga of Ten, started writing collaboratively with my best friend through Google Docs. What a joy it was to share this fun with someone. We'd swap our names and faces with the leading starlight of our time (regretably and instructively for two girls of color, it was Bella of Twilight), switch the heartthrobs to our Middle School Day Dreams and giggle and shy away and praise and write and write. I really had so much fun then.

I was lonely for much of my time in High school. I knew no one. I knew nothing. It felt like everyone knew which clubs to join, which teachers to meet with, knew what it meant to have a counselor AND an adviser. One for high school troubles and the other for career services. I was 14. But, they were too. And yet, they knew.

I was still Stephanie, the writer though. I did well in my Presentation classes and got along really well with my 9th grade Lit Teacher. She was so sweet to me. I think she knew I was a fish out of water. To find someone who loved writing like I did, like my best friend who rushed along at a different high school that felt like it was in a different time zone, to find someone like that again was a joy. It seemed like no one else connected to All Quiet on the Western Front or the Edgar Allen Poe like we did. I was still cool, suave writer Stephanie in the face of the unknown.

Then, we read Huckleberry Finn. Then, everyone was attentive. Everyone wanted to read along.

Then I heard my classmates say Nigger more times than I could care to count. I remember shooting up. Looking and being reminded that this wasn't Middle School anymore. These faces didn't look like mine. Hair didn't look like mine. Speech wasn't like mine even if they tried to copy. I was black girl in a white room, admiring a white teacher who let these white kids say Nigger. I didn't finish reading Huckleberry Finn. I stopped writing.

I wanted to cry, but what will the people think watching me? What will I think of Me, crouching, hiding near squeaky-clean glass? How is it possible to be stare at and unseen? I think that's why I was so angry after reading Recitatif. I fell for it too. Just like they did. Saw something unseeable, assigned roles to hair smell, to motherhood, to two girls with lapsing memory. Had I really not learned from my own pain?

I think that Lit class was the first moment that I realized I was behind shop windows too. Before, I thought I was a fellow admirer, struck by the fabrics spinning amongst themselves, silks sliding down cheeks, cotton snuggling up to noses. I'm always watching in awe as a They walk freely, playing in such pretty dress-up. I wanted to be out there. I wanted to feel silk. I wanted cotton to be comfort, not a reminder.

In 11th grade, I enrolled in AP US History. I scored well enough on Social Studies SOLs and when that happens, the counselor or adviser (one of em) trains you to take 4 or 5 APs at a time. So, alongside AP Psych, AP Environmental Science, my Monday and Wednesday would feature US History. My professor was very honest about expectations, even getting us to start classes over the summer to cover all the material due to be on the exam. We started with the Reagan Era and it didn't take long for me to realize Republicans were not for me. Then we talked about Clinton's crime bill and I wasn't too sure about Democrats either. This was two years into Obama's second term and I knew support for him in my house was fading too. As simplistic as this sounds, I really thought: if the republicans didn't care about black people, and the democrats didn't seem to care either, who did? Mixing resentment, pride and a loud mouth didn't make for the most principled Stephanie, but it did allow me to vocalize my frustrations. With Reaganomics, with capitalism, with prisons, with black boy death. Be it my teacher knowing many of the sentiments shared here or simply my being black, he asked me to read the Black Panthers' Ten Point Program. And my, oh my, did I find home there.

These were policy makers. These were the people who had the guts to demand, the power to make some changes. Fred Hampton, Stokely Carmichael, Angela Davis and their inspirations in Fanon, DuBois - I found inspiration in them too. I was going to be whatever they were. Policy makers for their community. I was going to learn from them.

From there, I became incredibly elitist. But, I could also answer to the beauty of my blackness. Like many children decades before me, Black would be a political title - one of love and resistance, love in resistance. This elitism carried me into my first year of university. I glowered at anyone who admired the works of Jefferson in my Political Theory class (as if I had not done the same), I scuffed at Alexis de Tocqueville and every other white dude we were made to read. But, I wasn't acting in an antiracist framework. I was still resentful. I was still behind the glass. Now I was just shouted silently at the silk dresses and cotton scarves. But I still wanted to feel them.

Really, it wasn't until Beloved that I could begin a journey of understanding this embroiled joy of black womanhood. I realized how much I fought against my own happiness in the pursuit of a Me that I constantly tormented. As if this precariousness wasn't torment enough. Through Morrison, I was able to learn more about Angela Davis and the struggles her black womanhood had in the face of black men in her community. So many of my political thought leaders too were tormentors, liars, abusers. The men were wounded and bleeding, resented our zealous in the berries they picked. They said it was for us. We gave it to the community. They shame us for it. We bake our own pies, we feed our neighborhood and our neighborhood's resentment, our own deafening shame silences our collective ear, binds our collective feet. Once again, I tricked Me. You loved another abuser. Daydreamed of standing next to another tormentor. Admired another liar. How foolish to give your heart away again. Today, I begin to despair a bit when I think of my previous trajectory - so constantly struck by idol worship and never a Me that I had made for myself. But with Beloved - Oh my, to be so tenderly reminded that this body is mine. Just as it speaks to body(s) like mine, past and future. This heartbeat I feel expresses MY Joy, my sorrows, all mine. What a wonder it is to learn Me. She's waited so long to speak to me. I am so honored to hear her.

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kunalsoriginals · 4 years

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Pearls of Wisdoms for Pakis

Beloved Janta of Pakistan,

I would also like to share a secret with you, which you might never apprehend from a person from any other country, especially from an Indian. We LOVE YOU, We are obsessed with you. We enjoy infatuation comparable to that of a 14-year boy who has one on a girl living in his neighborhood, like that teenager whose heart warms up with the girl's sight. Still, he tends to tease her or plays whimsical pranks on her. It is his way of showing his affection.

Accept it, my fellow former Countrymen, you guys are in deep love with us as well. I have felt it first-hand. You folks love watching our Movies and fantasy our starlets. Sing Bollywood songs while proposing to your love. Ache to enjoy Mumbai and Delhi's nightlife. Some of you would even love to reside permanently here for a better future. There is also constant discrimination in every viewpoint; it may be Cricket or politics; in all honesty, you think of our day and night.

Keeping this indefinable affection for each other aside for a while, there is a bitter revelation that you people will have to accept and even feed it in the brains of the future generations to come. I am sure that maximum people over your side of the border should by now have conceded that India will never ever surrender Kashmir in your Lap. It won't be possible in at least another century ahead.

You see, in the manner where India's GDP had expanded from 10 Thousand Crores in the 1950s to more than 10 Lacs Crores in 2019, our sentiment of Nationalism has additionally, grown in a comparable pattern. There was a phenomenal hike in this feeling after India's general elections 2014 onwards; the reason for such an increase is unknown to me. So, the moral is, with such a vast Nationalism level in the hearts of the Aam Janta here, I don't think so parting away an inch of land to anyone would be possible.

Won't it look dishonorable for us in the front of the entire world if we lose the land to you guys who are quite behind then us in all the aspects? You will have to accept that technically both our countries are 73 years old this year. Over this side of the border, we have gradually upgraded in all aspects a Nation has to grow. I could virtually challenge you in where you guys can prove to be better in any improvement zone. This is the land wherein the year 1981 Indian Actor Amitabh enacted on the evergreen song "Dekha Ek Khawab " and his Dame Rekha in the movie Silsila hence parting away with Kashmir is painful to us as it will not only hurt our Ego and furthermore offer grief to Amitji.

Forget the BJP led NDA, Even the Congress-led UPA cannot think of such a gormless deal. The primary reason is that they want to come into power next term too to provide Public service. Now you people only tell which government will be such dimwits to kick their own rear and be signed on the history textbook of 10-year-old kids as the People who gave away Kashmir.

Realize this, Pakistani Government, Your Army and also ISI can't withhold the idea of getting the region of Kashmir in your Nation's Map, even they know that your national flag will never rise in Capital of Srinagar but since it was an Inaugural Political Agenda when your Country was created in where the principal objective of this agenda was to collect vote from you guys and funds from other countries in the name of Kashmir. It is their lollypop for you fellows that their respective parties if came in power, an ideal environment will be created where; a newly wedded couple from Lahore can drive to Srinagar for their honeymoon without a stamp on their Passport and enjoy a bite of Kashmiri Apple laying in the front deck of a Shikara in Dal Sarovar. It's All Fake, acknowledge it, and move on.

So to my Indian friends,

There was a massive inspiration for me to compose this article. It was shocking that it came from the other side of the border. In the great Indian lockdown of 2020, I who was ideally workless like many of us all, I went through many videos of this Pakistani Newsreader and Political Debate Show Host Dr. Fiza Akbar Khan on YouTube. By her venomous language, the passion for thrashing India and people over here and that high pitched voice made me think of another Indian Debate Show Host. I am convinced that they are unquestionably biologically related to each other. So I should not have a problem with her blabbering rubbish towards my Country as her Bhaiya here likewise.

But I have to admit that her language did hurt me because, unlike her Bhaiya over there who trashes Pakistan in the English language, she uses Urdu, which sounds quite similar to the Hindi language to illuminate unpleasant garbage, the reason is entirely psychological for me being hurt. For example, If somebody calls you a Motherfucker, you might not be offended in the same manner if you are called Madar***d (Pardon my Language).

This Pakistani Anchor goes on and on that How Poor, Uneducated, Physically and Mentally Weak, Shelterless, we Indians live in this Country where our economy is going into the drain. We are foolish people to elect Shri Modi as PM of our Country and that too twice. There is a vast level of discrimination on minorities over here. The world's biggest Democracy is over. In the distant future, if Kashmir is not given to them its freedom, then Islamabad will be the next capital of Pakistan and India.

Can you believe this, she has mentioned all this on her show and that too in a language which can easily pierce in our heart. Let's not get also angered about this and start calling her names. She is just doing her job. She is giving favored content to people of over there what her Bhaiya is doing over there.

As pragmatic as I can get about whatever she says on her show about us, I just can't accept it, I am too egoistic as an Indian to even reply or curse on her Video on YouTube comment section. Hence, I planned to dedicate this entire blog to Dr. Fiza Khan, whom I seriously don't mean to offend as Women, her Nation, and especially not her Religion and would like to give her some advice.

Avoid Echoing about Nukes: A round of applause towards Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan for building Nuclear Weapons, a program from a stolen uranium centrifuge design and a network of grey-market suppliers. But stop jabbering in your show that Pakis can nuke India in case a War erupts between us. Even If Jinnah Sahab from Heaven above commands your Arm Force to it, they will effortlessly deny his orders and don't stress. We likewise won't squander our atomic weapon on you. These weapons are like those expensive Portraits which you can proudly hang in your Living Room, but can't take it out on a date. Stop even using the word Nuke in your show.

Comparison between the PMs: PM Imran Sahab seems to be a jolly good fellow who also appears to try to administrate better than any other PMs or Military leaders of your Country. Let me tell you bluntly that there is no comparison with his Counterpart over here; in fact, he even doesn't stand anywhere nearby India's previous Prime Minister.

Paki's Diplomatic Policies Debacle: This is a typical miscue. You and many colleagues of you have repeatedly misguided your Citizens that Pakistan can easily use the benefit of its diplomatic relationship with a few First World Country and pressurize India on Kashmir Issue. Well, Honey, This is an open challenge to your PM, along with Mr. Qureshi Sahab go to any so-called super Power for assistance or call end numbers of meeting in OIC ( Organisation of Islamic Cooperation ). Nobody will be ready to intervene in the Valley issue for one of the main reason, Why would any country create enmity with the Country will more than 100 Million Population which is a significant business open doors for their corporates.

Playing Second Fiddle: I initially watched your Debate show of earlier years. You always mentioned the US as your elder brother and will still stand next to you along with Saudi Arabia. These were the two countries which you saw as your personal ATM. Lately, these ATM machines stopped removing Cash and Kinds, which they earlier showered on your Country, so you bashed them and accused both these Super Power for adultery. These started leaning towards us. Then you went to China and become a Virtual Puppet who dances on their tunes. Now the problem arises that the entire world started forming against your elder brother and accused them as the creator of the Pandemic of 2020. So you began a rigid assembly against them as well, and now your nation is in an arrangement for another development with Malaysia and Turkey. Understand this dear Fiza ben that in distant future you will have to abuse these two countries also while your government will go and beg to some other countries, maybe North Korea.

Last but not least, which I have already mentioned why Kashmir will never be part of Pakistan earlier in the blog. Read repeatedly till the concept is glued by heart, and if possible, explain it to your people there.

Defense products will be purchased in the name of Kashmir. For Fiscal Year 20-21 Defense expenditure of Pakistan is 1,289 Billion Dollars. India's expenses on the same would be around 66 Billion Dollars. Can you believe these Figures? This Moolah could otherwise be used in Infrastructure and improving the lifestyle of citizens of the respective Country. Civilians and Soldiers' blood will be shed on the name of Kashmir. Approximately 120000 deaths have been registered since 1989, which also includes unsympathetic deaths of militants and terrorists. Television Media will go on with Live debates inviting aficionados and enthusiasts to increase their TRP on the name of Kashmir. Newspapers and magazines will publish viperous articles vocalizing each other's blame for being troublemakers on Kashmir's name. Many commercial Movies and Web Series will also be produced on Kashmir's name. Still, by endeavoring all means of Peace or War, this dream of some of yours will never be fulfilled.

#pakistan #kashmir #fizakhan #india

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