#she still keeps in touch with people from undergrad and grad school in ways I just don’t

[in-tua-deep]

I’m coming more from a military brat-esque standpoint simply because that’s the experience I have! I grew up before phones were common so I had no way to ever keep in touch with people I left behind. I wasn’t actually a military family so I had it better than most of them, but it was still grueling on my ability to form long lasting friendships and connections even now as an adult

But if someone knows more about the migrant labor or gig economy angle I would love to see it 👀

Thinking about murderbot being a rental unit and how that interacts with its trauma

Bc like. The most important bots it meets are all from vastly different situations and backgrounds than it. ART has been valued and loved by humans its whole life - its dad is literally the captain and its sister is one of its crew! And they clearly cherish, love, and value ART. Miki is a less sophisticated bot, but also so clearly loved and cherished. They ordered it to protect itself! And it had the capability to reject that order! That says a lot about the love, trust, and mutual respect they had for one another.

Even Three, another secunit, seems pretty different from murderbot. It was made by the company it’s working for and the vibe I got was that it and the other two secunits were sort of permanently assigned to that ship?

Which, look. Humans imprint on anything and build familiarity. The more time we spend with something the more sentimental we might get about it. If Three was on that ship for a long time, I wouldn’t be shocked if at least some of the humans on board were pretty chill or even affectionate towards it (in a condescending and dehumanizing way probably, but still). And even so, the length of time spent around the same secunits clearly allowed Three to establish bonds with its fellow secunits if nothing else!

But being a rental unit means murderbot went from group to group. The other secunits it worked with were always Temporary Company (will never see them again after this contract likely) and also Active Threats to murderbot bc they’re the most likely to notice murderbot is rogue and be forced to report it. Even the humans were Temporary, so even if there were Nice Humans they’d be swapped out with Bad Humans soon enough.

Like. No wonder it insists it doesn’t have friends. If you don’t have Feelings about people then those feelings can’t be hurt when you’re inevitably torn away and never allowed to see them again (or have your very memories of them torn out of you and erased)

(Feelings about media are okay because the media can go with you, right?)

It’s funny to point at Three when murderbot makes sweeping generalization about secunits bc it’s an unreliable narrator but also. Just having feelings about how specifically being a rental unit effects murderbot and its relationships to others

[miekasa]

speaking of college boys, what do the college au aot babies study??

Okay, okay, I think I’ve talked about this in an ask before but I can’t find it 😭😭 but it’s okay, I love college aus, so I’ll talk about it again! Plus, now I’ve got more thoughts for more characters, so here we go

Levi — neuroscience and psychology of human behavior

He started out on track to do a bachelor of arts in psychology, but when they touched on the anatomy and biological parts of it during his first year lecture, he switched to a bachelor of science.

The focus is still psychology, but through a more clinical lens. Essentially, he gets the best of both worlds this way. He’s intuitive and analytical, so clinical and mental diagnosis is easy to dissect for him. He’s also canonically good at math, so the calculus and stats parts aren’t too bad, either.

This major also leaves him with a few options post-grad, which is a nice bonus for him. He’s likely going to medical school, but that’s not the only route open to him: law school, therapy, lab work, medicine and pharmacy, even teaching are all viable options without going to grad school.

Do not talk to him about Freud unless you wanna get punted off a building.

Be careful with him, because with a single glance he’s already got scarily accurate predictions about your parental and emotional attachment styles, your behavior in social settings, and the onset (or seemingly lack thereof) of your frontal lobe development.

He thinks he’s so smart making comments like, “I see those synaptic connections aren’t working so well for you today,” like mf come here let me lobotomize you and see how well your synaptic connects are working after that🙄

Eren — general health sciences

He’s interested in science and the discovery aspects of it, but picking a specific field of focus right now feels too final. He likes it this way, because his schedule and requirements are less restrictive, and he has more room to find out what really interests him.

He does best when he’s doing something he loves, so picking a major with a bunch of reqs that he couldn’t care less about would have sucked big time for him. It also would have affected his grades. There are still some classes he has to take that he’s not fond of (see: chemistry), but that’s to be expected. Science in general is cool to him and he hopes to make his own discovery some day, even if it’s microscopic.

He also plays a lot of sports, keeping his schedule flexible is important. The sports end up helping him excel academically, which is a nice bonus. Honestly, Eren uses his time at university to learn more about himself than anything, so having control and freedom to do what he likes the majority of the time was important to him. 

He uses his elective credits to take philosophy or history courses of his interest, or maybe even a course that you’re in just to spend time with you. He also uses you as a live model for his homework bye, congrats on being patient number one to him.

Armin — astronomy and physics

He’s still interested in marine biology, but unless he attended a school near a coast, or with a specialized integrated program for that, it’s unlikely he’d major in it during undergrad.

Space and ocean exploration aren’t all that different. Both are vast, largely unexplored domains that reel-in Armin’s interest for discovery. So, while studying astronomy, he still gets to study evolution and make his own predictions about what could be out there because there’s so much to know.

Physics comes with the territory of learning about planetary science, and he’s mathematically inclined, so it works out for him. Learning about the different physical properties of other planets and space masses is honestly pretty sick to him. Because math isn’t a struggle, he actually considered aeronautical engineering, but he didn’t want to be a part of the college to military pipeline; that is, he didn’t want any potential design of his to be weaponized. 

He still gets to study animal biology through his elective courses, and might even find a few focused on marine animals to satiate him. Plant and cell biology are also of interest to him, and are just further applications of his primary study anyway, so he’s got plenty of room to work with.

This boy is interning at NASA and still, with his whole chest out is like, “I don’t need to discover a new planet, you’re my whole world.” Armin, go check on the Mars rover or something please.

Mikasa — anthropology + minor in japanese language studies

Anthropology is virtually interdisciplinary in nature, and Mikasa is a pretty well rounded student, so she’s able to excel in a program like this. She gets to study history, science, cultural studies, and even a bit of art all at once.

She’s still debating between going to law school vs med school, so anthro this is a good in-betweener. She gets a taste of science through her anatomy and kin courses; and lots of practice with reading and dissecting texts through the historical and cultural lectures. So, when the time comes to decide, she’ll have some experience with both.

Don’t know whether it’s confirmed that she’s (part) Japanese or not, but either way I headcanon that she speaks/spoke some second language at home. She wanted to delve more into it, and courses were offered at the university so why not?

Cultural studies courses end up being her favorite. She likes learning about the history of people and their cultures, and it encourages her to learn more about her own family history and culture. It also propels her to apply for a study abroad opportunity, so she spends at least one semester doing an exchange program and absolutely loves it.

She would also encourage you to apply and go, too. You guys might not be in the same program, but if there’s an applicable program in the same country she’s going to, then she’d definitely want you to apply. Spending the semester away with you would be a dream come true.

Hange — bioengineering + minor in political philosophy and law

It’s almost self-sabotage to be in an engineering program and have a minor; the coursework for engineering alone is backbreaking, and bioengineering has the added weight of human intricacies, but of course Hange makes it possible. 

They’re nothing short of a genius, so of course they have time to work a completely unrelated minor into their schedule. It doesn’t surprise anyone that they go on to complete an MD-PhD after undergrad. Insane. 

Bioengineering is essentially the synthesis of chemical engineering and health sciences; Hange spends their time exploring biological sciences and applies the engineering aspects of their coursework to their understanding of (and interest in creating) medicine. Truly a one of a kind mind. 

They also have an interest in philosophy and justice, so when they found out they only needed a measly nine or ten courses to minor in, they went for it, of course. In honesty, they don’t find the studies all that opposing: both law making and medicine making both have some kind of philosophy or method to them in their eyes. 

Hange has... little to no free time pls. They don’t mind it, because they love their coursework, but this means you are essentially ducking into their labs or scrambling to find them in-between their classes during your time in undergrad. They appreciate every second spent with you tho, and will gladly rope you into long discussions about their work. 

Jean — biochemistry + minor in art sustainability

He was undeclared his first year, and took a little bit of everything: art, science, history, anthropology, english. Basically, anything that fit into his schedule. It was hard for him to pick one thing—he liked the science and lab applications of STEM courses, but not the math; and the obvious painting and creativity of art, but hated the pretentious air about art history.

What he wants to do is make a difference, which is how he ends up knowing that he wants to go to med school after, so he picks a science-heavy major, but uses his elective spaces to take art courses. When he mixes the two, he ends up on sustainability—and the complexities about it that are applicable to both science and art are what really reels him in.

Interdisciplinary studies end up being his forte. He can approach sustainability from a science perspective which impacts his art style and materials; and tuning into his creative side allows him to think about science not just from a purely clinical perspective, but from a human one, too—patients are people after all.

He believes that everything is connected somehow, even things as seemingly opposite as art and biochemistry. And he works towards finding the unique intersection where everything overlaps. His studies are pretty cool, and he’s very passionate about them, so ask him about it 😌

The art he makes is pretty sick, too, and often commentary about science; he’s proving they’re not so opposite. You also heavily influence his studies in both areas: caring about you so much inspires him to take the healthcare focus seriously, and your very nature is inspiration to his art. 

Sasha — nursing

She’s friendly and good at working with people, so nursing was an easy choice for her. She accredits most of her motivation to being around her younger family members, and learns that she finds a simple kind of joy in helping to take care of others.

She struggles a bit her first year when it’s mostly all grades and standardized testing, but when she starts getting clinical experience and working in the hospital on campus, things round out for her.

Patient care is her strongest point. A lot of people often forget that knowing everything isn’t everything; if you don’t know how to calm or even just talk to your patient, you’re not that great of a healthcare professional.

Pretty certain that she wants to work with kids in the future, but she’s open to public health and even being a travel nurse if she finds opportunity there!

Of course, she’s pretty doting when it comes to you and all her friends. She might want to go into pediatrics, but the basics of nursing and health care extend to everyone, so you’re guaranteed to be well taken care of with Sasha around. You might even have to switch roles and take care of her sometimes, because her coursework can get pretty out of hand.

Connie — computer engineering with a focus on game design

He might not look it, but Connie has a brain under that shaved head of his. Computer engineering is cool to him because he basically learns about how simple things he uses every day (ie: phone, computer, microwave) works.

Systems and coding are actually the easy part for him, especially when they get into the application of it and aren’t just stuck looking at examples. That’s how he gets into game design.

The part about math and electricity and magnetic fields… well let’s just say he needed to make friends with someone who likes math and hardware his first year to get through it. But the struggle was worth it, because by his junior year he’s found a professor willing to mentor/supervise him as he works on his game and other projects, so life is good.

His school work is definitely hard, which is why the lives by the mantra of “work hard, party harder.” It’s only fair. 

He makes you a little avatar so you can test out his games for him <33 best boyfriend things <33 He’d also… build a game about your relationship. Every level is a different date you guys went on, and he definitely includes something cheesy, like “There are unlimited lives because I love you forever babe <3”

Porco — kinesiology + maybe mechanical engineering

He’s pretty into athletics and working out, but didn’t wanna go down the sports psychology route; he wanted something that left him with a few more options, so he ended up in kinesiology.

He was surprisingly pretty good at biology in high school, so something stem-oriented works out in his favor, and it turns out he’s pretty damn good at anatomy, too. He’ll probably end up in physical therapy after graduation.

He’s also got a knack for cars, which is where the engineering comes in, but he doesn’t care so much for the math part of it (he doesn’t care for it at all actually, fuck that); he just wants the hands on experience of building/fixing things and working with his hands. So, if he can get a minor in it and not struggle through 4 years of math, then he’d do that. If not, he’d take a few workshop-like classes.

Because he wants to go into physical therapy, you are essentially his practice patient. Your back hurts? Not a problem, he’s basically a professional masseuse. Muscle aches? He’s got a remedy and understanding of why it’s happening. Don’t let him catch you hunting over your desk grinding away at your homework, because he will poke your neck and correct your posture (he’ll also massage your shoulders, but after the scolding).

Pieck — classics + minor in philosophy

Ancient studies interest her, but more than that, the language of ancient Greek and Roman culture fascinates her, so classics is the way to go.

Because her focus within Classics ends up being Greek and Latin language studies, she is essentially learning both languages at the same time. She gets farther with Latin that she does with Greek. For whatever reason, the former comes almost naturally to her, so her written and translated work is more complex in Latin.

However, she finds cultural studies relation to Greece more interesting than that of Rome, so it’s a give and take with both; better at languages for Roman studies, better at culture and history for Greek studies.

Her minor is a natural evolution from her primary coursework. Ancient Romans and Greeks set the foundation for a lot of modern day philosophy, so it comes up in her major classes, but she wanted to delve further into the philosophy, and not just look at it historically, so she takes more courses to fulfill the minor.

Can be found laying on a blanket in the quad on a hot day, with her books spread out all around her, highlighter in hand as she works through her reading. You’re always invited to sit with her, and more often than not, it ends up with Pieck’s head in your lap, a book in her hands, and your own schoolwork in yours as you both read in each other’s company.

Bertholdt — computer science and coding

He’s level headed, good at planning, and above all, patient, so he’s cut out for this. He doesn’t consider himself to be particularly creative, which is why he doesn’t pick a speciality with lots of design; but he’s good at streamlining and ideas to life.

The patience really comes in when his code doesn’t run. It’s frustrating to scroll for two hours just to find out that the issue is a missing semi-colon in line 273 that he overlooked, but Berty will sit there until he finds it.

He’s also good at fixing issues. That’s not limited to issues in the code itself; it can mean finding shorter ways to produce the same function or loop, or integrating new aspects into existing code.

Also, he’d just be so cute, coding away on his computer. Just imagine: Berty working on his homework in the library, he’s got his signature crewneck + collared shirt look going for him, his blue-light glasses, a cup of coffee nearly as tall as him sitting at the corner of his desk. Adorable.

He’d make little codes/programs for you, too, even if it’s silly. A simple code that helps you decide what to eat for dinner or where to go on a date, one that shuffles different reminders for you, hell he’ll even forgo the torture of design engineering just to build you a little robot that says “I love you” to you.

Reiner — english + minor in justice & political philosophy

Everyone expects Reiner, star quarterback of the university’s rugby team, to be a business student or communications student; but no, he’s an English major, and he loves it.

Just imagine a guy as huge as Reiner absolutely manhandling someone on the field, just to show up in his lectures with a tiny paperback of The Great Gatsby tucked between his fingers with his reading glasses on. It’s so precious.

He’s always running a bit late to class—either coming from the gym, or practice, or oversleeping from exhaustion—but he’s so sweet to his professors and genuinely interested in the literature that they don’t give him a hard time about it. They can tell that balancing school and sports is difficult, and they just appreciate that he takes his studies seriously.

Yeah he’s in a book club and he dog-ears his books. What about it. They’re doing poetry this month and Reiner actually likes Edgar Allen Poe. Who said jocks can’t be sentimental.

He also reads a lot outside of his classes, and has a soft spot for coming of age stories. He usually empathizes with the main character somehow. His ideal weekend plans after a week of grueling games and essays is taking a long, relaxing shower at your place, while you both share a bottle of wine, and maybe even get you to read a chapter or two of his current book out loud to him.

Annie — clinical psychology/neuroscience

Almost scarily analytical and methodic, so this major was calling her name. Localizing brain legions is… insanely intuitive to her it’s incredible. She’ll be an insanely impressive doctor someday, even if she doesn’t end up working with patients directly. 

She doesn’t care too much for the more philosophical/reading heavy parts of psychology. Even experiments and research closer to the social end of the spectrum aren’t all that interesting to her; but the brain science behind it it.

Nobody should be good at cellular biology. Nobody should be able to ace cell bio and neuro and calc and work towards their thesis proposal in the same semester, but Annie proves it’s possible.

Ends up working in one of her professor’s labs by her junior year. She was offered three TA positions working with first year students, but she swiftly turned them down. Teaching isn’t her thing.

She doesn’t bring up her studies to you unprompted, but if you ask her about them she’ll explain it to you. Her notes are color coded and it’s super neat, and very cute; coloring them is somewhat relaxing for her. She usually saves the coloring part for when you guys study together; there’s extra comfort in doing it with you around.

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 7)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2438

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence​​​​, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​

~~~~~~~~~~~

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

The next morning, you were about to meet Hank after the routine you’d set up when you saw Charles make his way towards the alcohol in the study. 

“No,” you said sternly, following him in and taking the bottle from him. “No alcohol before noon.” 

“I beg your pardon? This is my house. You are a guest here, and if I want to drink from sun up to sun down I bloody will,” he said, anger clear in his tone and frown as his eyes raked your form.

“Just until noon,” you repeated calmly. “Surely your serum will hold out until then? Why don’t you go set up a game of chess and I’ll be in the library to meet you shortly.” 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to distract me,” he noted, his face a mask of humor. 

“Good thing you don’t know any better,” you teased with a tight smile. “Please? I know it’s a passion of yours and I’ve always wanted to play.”

“Wait, you’ve never played chess?”

You shook your head, innocence wrapping your face and gesture. “No.”

“Why not? Hasn’t everyone?” 

“I was much more of a gin rummy kind of girl,” you explained. 

“Ah, I see. Not in my wheelhouse but I could give that a go,” he offered. 

“I’d love to show you… So, uh, off to the library then?” you asked. 

He smiled and laughed. “Yes, I suppose we are meeting in there. Five minutes?” 

“Sounds perfect,” you said with a smile. 

He swept around you and as soon as he was out of sight you broke out into a sprint to find Hank.

“Hey, where’d you disappear to? I’ve started on extracting the--”

“I can’t help. Not this morning.”

“What? Why not?” 

“Charles was going to start drinking and the only thing I could think of to divert his attention was a game of chess so… we’re playing chess.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “So while I’m in here, you’re going to be playing a game?” 

“I know, I’m sorry, but you want him to get better right? Maybe it’s best he has some company with humans rather than with a glass and a needle.”

Hank’s face fell. 

“I’m sorry, Hank, I know you’re doing the best you can. I just… We need to keep him focused and away from the alcohol. Think you can work on this without me?” 

“Yeah, I’ll do my best,” he said, a touch of disappointment in his tone. 

“Thanks, you’re the best. I’ll try to be back as fast as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sadly replied. “Just… go keep him company.” 

An expression of sad sympathy colored your face. All you did was nod before dashing off to the library. Charles was sitting on the right side, a small table set up with chess as he sat there staring at the board. 

You were surprised at how your heart felt every time you laid eyes on him. Even in his worst state, this man made you feel… grounded. It was as if you were walking around half-empty, then you got close to him and everything felt right with the world. Even if he was drug and alcohol dependent and a bit of an asshole, just being in his presence, everything was okay.

You walked in and sat down across from him, honestly a little nervous. Knowing this man through a screen was one thing, but sitting down across from him, it was an entirely different feeling. A different dynamic, especially since it had been a year since you’d even spoken. 

How much had he changed? How had you changed? Talking every day with one person, you knew what to expect. He was in grad school, you were in residency. He was working towards teaching, you were dealing with patients. It was a no brainer. You swapped stories of graduations, accolades, promotions, and victories. What stories would you swap now? How his adopted sibling had abandoned him, his spine neglecting his ability to walk, his school ripped away from him, not a friend in the world except the two people in this mansion with him. What kind of stories would those be?

“Alright,” you started cheerily, “how do we play?”

“So you’ve really never played?” he asked with a bemused grin. 

“No. I started to learn the rules once, from my uncle, but the idea of losing pieces just to win an endgame... “You shook your head. “It seems barbaric.” 

He laughed gently. “There’s nothing barbaric about it. It’s a highly intellectual game that involves strategy and knowing your opponent.” 

You looked up through your lashes as you glanced down at the board. “And you think you know me?” 

“I’d like to think I do, after ten years.” 

You made a noise of contemplation. “Hmm, I was under the impression you didn’t remember a thing about me.” 

“Wanting to forget you and forgetting you are two vastly different things, Y/N.” 

You smiled. 

“You’ve never said my name before,” you noted quietly, your heart fluttering and warming. He might not think it was important, or nice at all, but you’d waited a very long time to hear this. 

You were on a very different side of this romance. It appeared Charles wasn’t ready for it, but you were very much prepared to jump right in. Every little sentimental action he did, every little way he tilted his mouth, the way his eyes penetrated your very soul, the way his accent fell off his lips -- it was practically intoxicating. Here you were, swimming like a school girl like the night you found out you had a soulmate; yet it seemed for Charles you were just a guest to interact with, to mildly entertain. 

It tore your heart asunder. 

“I’m slowly learning to right some of my wrongs,” he said in a soft voice. “Alright, let’s see, so you have the pawn and the pawn can move like this, see?” he began and he took about ten minutes explaining the game to you, being very patient. 

“You ready to begin?” 

“Sure.”

So the two of you sat, playing chess, not saying a word for about twenty minutes, only halfway through the game. 

“So, did you play this when you had your powers?” you inquired cautiously. 

“Actually,” he began, making his move, taking your rook, “I did.” 

“Did you use them?” 

“I tried not to,” he explained, “but it’s like music playing in the background. You can pick up on things people are thinking if it’s loud, distinct, or stands out. So sometimes I would hear what they were thinking, sometimes I didn’t. I tried to ignore it.” 

“How did you learn to control them?”

“Practice. Quieting them was...is… the hardest part. Once that’s done, I can do the rest easily.” 

“And all the other… facets, like accessing memories, how did you learn how to do that? On a girlfriend or?” 

He laughed, his eyes never leaving the board as you studied your moves as well. “Are you trying to probe to see if I had a girlfriend previous to our… relationship?” 

You gave a quick half smile, filled with amusement. “I wasn’t consciously, but I suppose it slipped out. You’re avoiding the question, should I assume I’m right?” 

“You know, Dr. Y/L/N, not everything or everyone has to be psychoanalyzed,” he countered teasingly. 

“I know, I know. I just… I’m curious about that part of your life, that’s all.” 

“For your information, I didn’t test on my girlfriend. I actually used my step-brother. When he bullied me, afterwards, I’d probe his mind. I realized I could access memories, get into his head, and learned in there. At first, it was an accident, and I couldn’t break the link… but then when we went to sleep, it broke. Later, I purposely tried to connect, disconnect, and read thoughts. Until his father died, and they moved out that is…” 

“Did Raven ever meet Cain?”

“No. No, Raven came to us a few months after Cain’s father died and he moved away to live with his aunt.” 

“I see. So you practiced on your abusive step brother?” 

“It was all I had. Doing that to my mother felt wrong, Raven asked that I never do it to her, and with the kids at school I couldn’t tell if I was reading memories or fantasies. Your move by the way.”

“Oh, yes, right,” you said, snapping out of your sympathy induced trance. You made an arbitrary move before getting back to the conversation. “So no girlfriend?” 

“Like a dog with a bone,” he muttered.

“I prefer the term persistent.”

“No, no girlfriend in the picture. Not for some time. I dated briefly, just after Harvard.” 

“So… when you were seventeen?” 

“Mhm. She was an undergrad. She wasn’t very mature though, so it was over before it began. I knew I wouldn’t find anyone on my level. I couldn’t even legally buy cigarettes but I had graduated college, so… the odds of me finding anyone worthy of my time were slim. Of course, that was before your scribbling showed up on my arm.” 

“That wasn’t scribbling,” you accused with a laugh, fake offense in your tone. “I put a lot of time, thought, and effort into that, thank you.” 

“If that’s your example of a lot of time and effort then maybe I still haven’t met my intellectual match, hmm?” he joked. 

You narrowed your eyes before taking his bishop. 

“Maybe you spoke too soon,” you challenged as he glanced up at you and you raised an eyebrow. 

“Perhaps I did. And you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Did you have a highschool sweetheart before you knew about me?” 

“Oh, well… I don’t really see how it’s relevant--”

“Double standard, Y/N. That isn’t very nice. I was probed about my entire romantic career but I can’t get so much as a--”

“Fine. Yes. I dated. Two guys in high school. One lasted about eight months from January of sophomore year to the beginning of junior year.”

“And the second?” 

“Four months of junior year.”

“No one dazzled you senior year?” 

“Just you,” you hummed, not thinking before you answered. 

“Oh, just me?” he asked, catching your little slip up. 

Your cheeks heated before you smiled. “Yes, if I’m being totally honest.”

He was looking at you, curiosity and merriment burning in his face. He’d only glanced at you three times during this whole game. In a way, you were thankful. When he gave you a direct look you felt like you always had to overshare. When he was looking down at the board you could focus on answering carefully, filtering. When he was staring at you, it was like truth serum. 

“So what happened with the other two?” he questioned as his attention drifted back down to the board. 

“One was determined that I follow him, you know, go to the college he had his eye on, despite what I wanted. So we parted ways.” You made a move. “And the other liked a friend of mine more so we mutually ended things.” 

“Sounds like you haven’t had any bad luck with men, so that’s good.” 

“Sounds like you haven't had any luck with women. One woman throughout your whole life? You’re thirty-two.” 

“Yes, so?” 

“Well, if you only dated at seventeen--”

“Y/N, I met you, my soulmate, at twenty-one. I didn’t date after that, so, most of my life, has been with you… Romantically, that is, if that’s what you want to call this.”

“You swore off dating for me?” 

“Of course,” he said as if it were obvious, “didn’t you do the same for me?” 

“Yeah without question.”

“So why do you find it odd that I did the same?” 

“Well,” you started, nervously wringing your hands, “you’re you, you know? Handsome, accomplished, driven, confident.” 

“And you’re just a wet rag? Or what am I missing? You’re all those things as well, except handsome. I’d choose a different word.” 

“And what word might that be?” 

“Nothing short of stunning.”

His words made you blush quickly and smile to yourself. 

“So tell me, why did you commit to us but were worried I didn’t?” he wondered.

“You just have so much more going for you than I do.” 

“That’s not true. I know quite a bit about you and you’re quite the catch. Not to mention, I’m not like that. I was dedicated to you the moment we encountered each other.” 

“I’m glad to know you felt the same about this.” 

“Of course,” he concurred before the two of you finished the game, with him beating you easily. 

“Ugh, see that’s why I don’t like that vile game.” 

He chuckled. “It’s a fantastic game. You did quite well for your first time. I bet you’ll beat me next time.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, loudly. “Not likely.”

“You should believe in yourself more.” 

“I believe in myself plenty, except when it comes to strategy games.”

“But you play gin rummy?” 

“Well that’s entirely different,” you assured with a smile as the two of you cleared the chess game. 

“Is it now? Well let’s just see. I’ve got some cards in my desk drawer there. Show me how to play  and we’ll see if it’s all that different.” 

“Okay, sure. You got to show your prowess, I’ll show you mine.” 

“There’s that feistiness I missed,” he cheered as you got up and got the cards, his words making you stop for half a second. 

So he did miss you...

“Okay, so the game is easy, especially compared to that mini war game we just played,” you joked and he smiled. Knowing you could do that to him lit you up inside. 

You explained the game, all the rules and played. He caught on quickly, which didn’t surprise you - he was practically a genius. What did surprise you however, was that he beat you at your own game. 

“How the hell did you--?” you started, flabbergasted, staring down at the table. 

“All strategy games are the same, Y/N. I’ve been playing them for a while.” 

“But this is my game and you, you just beat me.” 

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser. You’ll do fine next time.” 

“I should’ve done fine this time,” you mumbled. “Well I need to get dinner made, so I’ll be off. See you for dinner?” 

He nodded and smiled and you left, reflecting on the good bit of information you’d learned that day. And focusing on how this might not be as bad as you thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[recurring-polynya]

Polynya Headcanon Time Again: Renji - Hinamori - Kira Edition

So, ICYMI, I wrote an Academy-era fanfic this weekend that’s just dripping with my Feels for these three. A thing I like about this friendship, is that, in contrast to the many ride-or-die friendships of Bleach (which, let’s be real I also love), is that it’s very brittle, and when Kira and Hinamori show up in the manga, it’s is about to shatter like a dropped vase.

Here’s where we first meet Hinamori. She’s been sitting in her by herself, when Renji comes in, bro-ing it up with Iba:

So, obviously, she and Renji are acquaintances, but Renji also seems sick of her. Like, he’s heard her whining about Aizen forever, and he tolerates it, but he’s honesty done with this weepy nonsense, although he’s still nice enough to offer her some reassurance (also, this is shortly after the very very good Aizen - Renji talk, where it’s pretty obvious that Renji does not trust Aizen as far as he can throw him... the SS arc is so good for Renji-character stuff, I swear).

Then, a little later, Renji, the only person in SS who is actually serious about catching Kurosaki Ichigo, has run off to do just that, and Hinamori finds his badge and goes to Kira.

Are they stupid?? They know very well that Renji has been waiting and working for f o r t y  y e a r s  to see Rukia again, and they’re like, “Gee willikers, he seems upset that she’s going to be executed, I wonder why?” They even contemplate ratting him out to Aizen. Now, we learn later that they have been gaslit to an inch of their sanity, but my point here is that as much as they think they are still friends with Renji, they have utterly lost touch with him. And then, a few chapters later, they crack completely and turn on each other.

So, the interesting question is... were they ever really as good friends as they thought they were? And I think that they were good friends, but their friendship had some huge fault lines in it that eventually brought everything down.

My ideas about their early friendship comes from two sources. The first is my own grad school experience. I ended up in a research group with a bunch of guys who had done undergrad there. We did all our work together, and helped each other, and I am not going to say I liked them, but we all got a 4.0′s in a very difficult engineering program. I can even tell you which guy was the Renji of the group, where we all got better for having to explain stuff to him in excruciating detail. I knew other people in the program that were TAs instead of RAs and they were lost without a tight-knit study group. So, in addition to everything I said here, I think falling in with Kira and Hinamori was key to Renji’s success in school, compared to Rukia’s.

The second source is a short flashback that I am pretty sure is only in the anime. I’m sorry I can’t remember which episode it is, but it’s not even the main Kira-Hinamori-Renji flashback episode. Anyway, they’re training in the woods, and Renji is just beating the shit out of Kira and Hinamori, and they’re just making heart-eyes at him. And then, Rukia walks by a mile away, and Renji whoops right outta there, jumpin’ fences, dodging trees, to go talk to her, and his dumb face is so happy, and Rukia looks mildly pissed, and my poor heart breaks into 1 million pieces.

And so the way I theorize the way all this works is that on one hand, Kira and Hinamori would be basically fine in school without Renji, but he would be a huge mess without them. He doesn’t understand the social norms, he’s got a chip on his shoulder, and he’s terrible at kidou. Sure, he helps them with the more sports-oriented subjects, but I think they actually keep him around because they’re fascinated with him. For one thing, he’s got a natural affability that doesn’t show up in his early days, when he’s busy pissing everyone off, but by the main timeline, Renji is friends with basically everyone. There is an omake where he gets Ishida to make Sasakibe a new uniform. Kira and Hinamori are socially anxious bundles of nerves like you and me. There’s also an interesting class hierarchy here. Kira is low nobility, so he tends to think of himself as no-big-deal, and he’s maybe socially a little higher than Hinamori. Hinamori is from District 1 of Rukongai (which probably means she died, rather than being born, which I headcanon is a Huge Deal in Soul Society), so she’s going to think of herself as a Rukongai nobody: miles below Kira, and maybe a little socially higher than Renji. Renji has lived in abject poverty, and knows that these rich idiots can’t even conceptualize what his life was like. I think there’s a lot that he holds back from them, and they don’t particularly even notice. But Renji aspires to a life of respectability in Soul Society, so he puts up with their inanities, and they actually teach him a lot of the soft skills he needs (I mean, Byakuya hires him. Let’s be real, Byakuya would not hire someone like Ikkaku).

I headcanon that, at least in the Academy years, Hinamori has a crush on Renji, Kira has a crush on both Renji and Hinamori, and Renji is too obsessed with Rukia to notice any of this. Renji is a big, doofy, straightforward musclehead, and he’s different from anyone they’ve ever met. He’s also very, very different from Aizen and Gin, the two people they will respectively become obsessed with in later years and who ruin their lives. I even think that later on, Renji swears to himself never to pursue Hinamori as a romantic prospect, because she’s too similar physically to Rukia. (that being said, I will read any fanfic that has them having sad times sex I AM NOT PROUD)

The final note I want to make is how much all three of them not-so-secretly think they are the best one. As kids, this competitiveness is very natural, and probably helps them do better in school, BUT this contributes to their eventual split. When Renji leaves for Squad 11, I think both Kira and Hinamori think he’s making a terrible mistake, and “if only he would listen to them...” Renji is sick of being mommed and judged by them, and largely cuts them off. Then, as Aizen and Gin demand more and more of their loyalties, Hinamori and Kira each think that they are being rational, and it is the other one who is being taken in.

Anyway, SUCH A GOOD, INTERESTING, DYSFUNCTIONAL DYNAMIC. We really don’t get a whole lot in the manga of them rebuilding their friendship,  and I like to think they do. They show up in the omakes a fair amount. Anyway, I love these nerdy flawed babies. Send me all your fanfic and fanart, please and thank you.

[numeronubisexualhawkeye]

Tuck and Roll

3060 Words

sequel to Take Cover 

(got like 4 requests on here and another 4 on ao3 to finish this so i’ll be posting the next 3 chapters on my ao3, MajorMinor)

The first two weeks in Portugal were infuriating. Despite the fact that Theo was a big donor to the graduate school Clint and Natasha were pretending to be enrolled in, he was elusive. Natasha had gone against all logic and spent her days trying to go after Theo by herself, spending hours out in town and in the university, scouting out the locations they had been tipped off about Theo’s trafficking. It was hard doing it alone, or at least she felt as though she was working alone.

After their argument that first night, Clint had become reclusive. He only ever signed to her, which she only managed to catch bits and pieces of, she had only just started learning ASL which was miles different than the Russian standard she had been taught in the Red Room. Natasha had only spoken to him in Russian some days, trying to reciprocate his stubborn attitude. She knew he didn’t understand it well enough to respond, and felt it was a fair trade for him only signing to her for the first few days after their fight.

By the end of the first week though, their silent treatment had run its course. They needed to speak to each other to work and to survive, but since Clint was still too much in his own head to do that, they took to treating this as if it were a solo mission. Natasha would go out during the day and talk to Theo’s colleagues and clients, coming off as an enthusiastic grad student that just wanted to get to know him. Clint going full covert mode and spending night after night in the tow, putting that Hawkeye codename to use as he watched Theo move about the city.

Neither one of them ever had much to report back at the apartment. Theo was elusive, working as indirectly as possible when he could. Clint had caught mostly only been able to watch him through the windows of his home, which was occupied only by him and his house staff. There was nothing redeemable about what Theo was doing, but at least he had the nerve to not have a wife or kids amongst his business. By the third week, both of them were tense from their own emotions and lack of action. Clint wanted to spring a trap in Theo’s house, draw him out and ambush him. Natasha wanted to catch him off guard, get under his skin, and work her way to where she needed to be to get this job over with.

On the Friday of their third week however, there was a breakthrough, a gloriously simple one, but a breakthrough nonetheless. Natasha had been in the library of the university, flipping through some tome on Portuguese art, when she heard a murmur of voices behind her. She shut the book and looked around the shelves, and there he was; Theo.

There was a gang of students and staff going up to him, telling him how grateful they were for his generous donations to the library and various departments of the school. Natasha made her way toward him, and he caught her immediately. He waved off the people around him and stepped to her.

“Hello! Long time no see. How have you been?” he started.

Natasha slipped into the sugary voice she had used the night they first met. “Oh fine, same as always. Me and David have been meaning to get out, but work and school keeps us busy.”

Theo smiled. “Well, I’m sure I can help you with that.” He took a card out of his pocket, wrote down an address and phone number and passed it to her. “Join me for dinner someday. You can set it up with my assistant. I’d be more than happy to show you the more...secretive pleasures this city has.”

Ew. “Thank you. I’ll tell David, I’m sure he’d be glad to get to talk to you.”

Theo’s expression wavered a little at that. “Ha. Well, I hope to see you again soon Anya.”

When Natasha had told Clint about the set up, he looked annoyed, but she didn’t wait for him to have any smart remarks. “I’ve already set it up for Sunday evening. Clear your nesting hours.”

When Sunday rolled around, Natasha was itching with anticipation. Finally, something to fucking do on this mission. The restaurant wasn’t far from the apartment they had been holed up in, so she walked, Clint following closely on the adjacent streets until they both reached the restaurant, where Theo was waiting outside.

“Ah, Anya, I’m so glad to see you.” he had his arms stretched wide for a hug. “Where’s David?”

“He got food poisoning, but he sends his regards.” She heard Clint chuff out a laugh in her comm.

Theo led them inside to a table toward the back of the restaurant. There was a guard standing on either side of the table, which put Natasha on alert. Theo may have presented himself as an elusive and private man, but this was a clear indicator of his shady dealings on the side.

Clint was somewhere in the upper floors of the neighboring building, watching through windows and seeing she and Theo's every move while being completely invisible to any untrained eyes. Natasha felt about as safe as possible on missions like this. Even if Theo or either of the men standing guard beside him tried something, she could take them out, and if she couldn't, well, Clint's code name wasn't Hawkeye for nothing.

She drank one glass of wine and picked over her food. She may not have been as susceptible to alcohol as Theo may have been, but she didn't want him to get the idea that she was too comfortable around him. This had been arranged as something strictly professional, discussing the programs at the university, gaining his trust so she could get into his professional circles, not personal.

“So, Anya,” Theo said, “what exactly brought you and your um, husband, here?” He said ‘husband' the way little kids talk about broccoli. It was something gross and annoying, something he wanted to push to the edge of his plate and flick to a dog waiting under the table.

Clint could hear everything through the wire she was wearing. Natasha gave a small smile. “Well when we met in undergrad, we were both on a humanities track, European history and all. So when we graduated, and then married, we decided, why not come to the heart of where all great exploration began y'know? Get a hands on experience in that history.”

Theo smiled and laughed. “Smart girl you must be. Not many people appreciate a woman with so much, curiosity and appreciation for the Old World.”

“Well we both paid 35k to get degrees in it, so I would hope to have a bit of appreciation for it.” Natasha tried to keep bringing Clint, well, David, in the conversation, keep Theo's focus professional. His files had said that he worked with his traffickers and clients through his allies, professors and politicians with a taste for their students and interns.

Professional is what was preferred, but Natasha had a sick feeling that she was going to have to take the personal route. This mission was already going into its third week without much progress. The stress of this mission plus the added weight of the tension between she and Clint made working conditions seem far worse than they actually were. Natasha just wanted the whole thing to be over with so they could go back stateside, and she could request a new partner.

“Ah, you Americans and your money. I can respect it though, spending it on such a quality education.” Theo said as he waved down the waiter. “I’ll take check now. Both our meals are together.”

“Oh no, I can pay.” Natasha said determined. Professional, this was professional, she didn’t want Theo to get any funny ideas. But he had funny ideas when he first saw her, and when she took this dinner. He was expecting something from her now, especially after three weeks of trying to weasel herself to this exact scenario.

“Please, it’s my pleasure.” Theo’s voice dropped to that low gravelly tone older men take up when they think they’re being sexy, when in reality they sound like a dog with a bad chest cold.

“Natasha.”

Clint’s voice in her ear was a shock, and she fumbled with her reply after he disrupted her. “Well, if you insist, but I’m not making this a habit.”

“Natasha.” Clint was sounding more irritated. The fact that he was saying anything at all was a surprise to her. There hadn’t been anything especially insightful during this dinner. All she had learned was Theo was the same as every old sleaze that preyed on women; too much money, and not enough people telling him no. Natasha was begging for anything, anything to happen so she could get an opening on this guy. How could someone this simple be so hard to infiltrate?

The waiter left to bring back the check, and it was just the two, well three, counting Clint’s now active part in this conversation, of them.

“So,” Theo started, “any plans for the rest of the night?”

Fuck. It was such an obvious move to get any intel that she needed to wrap this mission up, but she didn’t want to do this. But why? She had slept with more men for work than she had for her own enjoyment, it was the one death she couldn’t escape, even now after so many months with Shield.

“Don’t you dare.” Clint’s voice said harshly in her ear. She wanted to be irritated with his interjections, she dealt with men like Theo for a living, she could handle this. But something about having Clint in her ear made her anxiety worsen. He was watching her, he could see everything, hear everything, Theo didn’t know, but what if he did? Was he trying to set her up? Would they get back to his penthouse and there would be Clint, tied up and beaten to a pulp by one of Theo’s goons? No, he couldn’t know, he had barely lifted his gaze up from the neckline of her dress, even with the modest cut he wouldn’t stop staring.

Why was she so worried? This was work, Theo was work. Clint was a part of work. But when Theo reached his hand across the table and placed it on top of her’s, she pulled back harder and faster than she had meant to. His touch snapped her out of her stupor.

“I’ve got to get home to David.” she said. Clint’s cover name felt like an anchor, and just like everything about this night and this mission, she hated it. Why did he have such a hold on her all of a sudden? Why was she letting Clint’s hooks get into her? Natasha had dealt with men like Theo, would keep dealing with them even if she ever had the chance to leave Shield. They had barely spoken to each other since the first night, but now all of a sudden, she wanted to be home, no, in the apartment, don’t make this personal Natasha. She wanted to be in the apartment with Clint. Why? Why, fucking why?

“Ah, perhaps another time then.” Theo said, if he caught wind of her sudden anxiety, he didn’t show it. He leaned across the table to grab Natasha’s hand and kiss it, but she snatched away and got up abruptly.

“Until next time senhor.” Natasha said before she whipped around and walked out the restaurant.

The entire walk home, Clint was silent in her ear. She caught a few quick glances of him moving through the streets as they both made their way back to the apartment, but neither one of them made a sound. He had reached the apartment before her, the door already unlocked when she got there. Inside, he was sitting on the couch, but his posture was rigid, and he stood up when she stepped inside.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.

“If you have something smart to say, just say it Barton.” Natasha snapped. She didn’t give him time to answer, just kicked off her heels, and shut the door to the bedroom.

Again.

No.

You sound like a porn star.

Do it again.

Come on babe.

Fucking Christ Natalia, do it again.

Again.

Natalia!

You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous

“Natasha.”

Do you want to go back under?

Do it again.

“Wake up.”

Anya.

You’re not like the others.

Do you like that?

Natalia.

“Nat.”

Any plans for the rest of the night?

“Natasha. NATASHA!”

She bolted upward, butting her forehead against something hard. She winced and pushed away at whatever she had hit, hands fumbling in the dark. Her fingers brushed against skin, and she screamed.

“Hey, hey!” a light switched on, and there was Clint, kneeling in bed beside her. “Chill, you’re okay. You’re okay.” his voice was soft but stern.

Natasha got out of bed and stood there staring at him for a few seconds, breathing heavily. The back of her neck was beaded with sweat despite the fact that the air conditioning was on full blast. She felt shaky and a little disoriented. She stumbled forward, trying to muster up the attitude she had had with him the last couple of weeks so she could push him out of the room and go back to sleep. But she tripped over herself and had to put her hands down in front of her to catch her on the mattress.

“Woah, are you okay?” Clint inched forward on the bed, hands outstretched cautiously.  Did that Theo guy give you something?”

She shook her head. She was fine, wasn’t she? Theo was just another disgusting human to be dealt with, she could handle this, she could. But why was his voice in her head hours later? But it hadn’t just been Theo’s voice. It was never just going to be Theo’s voice.

A shiver ran through her body, and Clint noticed. She felt his weight settle next to her on the edge of the bed. “Nat.”

She swallowed hard and took in a gulp of air. What did she want to say? What could she say? Sorry for waking you up with my nightmare screaming. Go back to the couch, I’ll be fine once we kill this guy.

“Do you need some water? Aspirin?” Clint asked.

Natasha’s voice finally remembered how to work. “Vodka.” she said hoarsely. “Well, anything alcoholic, if we have it.” Clint nodded and went to the kitchen.

Natasha sat in the same position, barely moving while he was gone. There had been so many men like Theo before that she couldn’t count them if her life depended on it. Human traffickers, drug peddlers, arms dealers, straight up fucking war criminals, why was he sticking so hard and why had he brought them all back into her head at once? And he hadn’t just brought up the men she had killed or put away. Fucking Christ Natalia, do it again. The Red Room. The instructor who had trained her to do the very thing she was supposed to do without any fear or anxiety was coming back years later, and her voice still sent waves of emotions so horrible Natasha didn’t have words in any language to describe them.

She was glad when Clint finally came back into the room with a glass of vodka in one hand and the entire bottle in the other. She took the bottle and shot back a few gulps before setting it on the nightstand.

“Bad dream” Clint asked.

“Bad life.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Both of them taking swigs from the bottle, the glass forgotten on the nightstand. She was starting to cool off, the sweat on the back of her neck feeling too cold against her skin. The shakes in her body had stopped, and she could breathe easily again. Despite all that, she was wide awake.

“How did you hear me?” she asked suddenly.

Clint passed the bottle back to her. “What?”

“You. How did you hear me?” she looked over to the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 2:36 in the morning. “I know you don’t sleep with your hearing aids in, especially not on non-violent missions like this. So how did you hear me?”

He turned his face away from he, unable to answer. He might not have been looking, but Natasha knew the body language, it was shame. But what for?

“I kept them in tonight.” he finally said, face still away. “You looked so rattled when you got back, thought that guy might have slipped you something, so I stayed awake as long as I could until I was certain you were asleep and no one would break the door down. I heard you screaming about thirty minutes after I fell asleep.” His words came slowly, like he kept debating if he should stop, or change his story, but he didn’t.

There it was, that concern that she didn’t need. She tensed again, preparing to be angry, but the feeling swelling in her chest wasn’t hot, it was a different kind of heat. Her entire body felt flush with embarrassment.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We all have bad nights. Comes with the job. Just gotta hope they don’t turn into even worse days.” He got up from the bed. “You can keep the bottle.”

“Clint,”

But he was already to the bedroom door, closing it gently behind him. Natasha let out a sigh, took a few more swigs from the bottle, and went back to sleep. She left the light on, just in case she woke up again, but she didn’t.

When she awoke that morning, Clint was gone. She called him a couple times, but there was no answer. No note, nothing missing from the apartment, his bow and arrows still stashed in the closet by the front door. What she did notice though, was the news report on the tv when she switched it on as she sat down to eat breakfast.

Theo was missing, and so was her partner.

[nonprofittalk]

Pitching Notes: Shira Stoll

Multimedia specialist Shira Stoll is a New York Emmy award-winning video producer and photojournalist at the Staten Island Advance/SILive.com covering human interest features and news stories. 

Tell us about your background - was it always in journalism? What led you in this direction? 

When I was 7 years old, my dad gave me his film camera. Throughout the year I would take photos of my friends and family. Every summer, I developed my own film at USDAN summer camp on Long Island. I went to the camp every summer for 8 years, until I was able to take a photography class and develop my own film in high school. My teacher used to call me the "crazy photo girl" because I would hand in 10 photos for every assignment when she usually only asked for one. 

I attended the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University for undergrad. My major was "Photo Illustration," where I focused on portrait photography. I thought I wanted to be a fashion photographer until the fall semester of my senior year, when I studied abroad in London and took my first photojournalism class. It changed my life. I realized how much more I loved connecting with people and sharing their stories outside the studio. 

I applied for a scholarship to stay at Newhouse to pursue a Master's degree in photography with a focus on video journalism and was accepted. I started at the Staten Island Advance in May of 2017. It's my first job out of grad school! 

What was your first taste of journalism? 

While studying in London, one of my first assignments was to photograph inside a "corner shop," which is basically a deli or minimart. Many times, they are owned by immigrant families and sell specific ethnic products from their homes abroad. 

I was so nervous to do this project. Before this class, I would only photograph my friends or models in the studio, so I was really outside of my comfort zone just walking into a store and asking someone to take a photo of them. I must have stood outside of the corner shop for an hour before my friend in the class convinced me to just go inside and buy something. When I walked inside, I somehow mustered up the courage to ask to take photos. They were so excited that someone wanted to do a story about them.

I went back every day for two weeks at all hours of the day. After I finished the story assignment, I started going to the store to shop and I'm still friends with the owners five years later. We keep in touch on Facebook. 

P.S. I got an A.

What stories interest you? 

I'm interested in all stories - especially those that are touching or uplifting. I usually look for stories that will make someone feel something or will spark conversation.

For the past two years, I interviewed 15 Holocaust survivors who rebuilt their lives on Staten Island. It stemmed from an assignment and grew into an extensive project including a short-documentary, video series, portrait series, magazine, and teaching tool for NYC public and private schools. It was a personal project that grew into something that meant a great deal to others. Those are the kind of stories that interest me the most - ones that evoke emotion, tell an important story and make others care.

As a multimedia specialist, what do you look for in a story? 

As a multimedia specialist, if I'm not out covering hard news or events, I work on more long-term projects, so I have a bit more freedom to pick and choose what I cover. I look for visual stories that evoke emotion -- stories of love, loss, and trauma, but also stories that are uplifting and inspiring. Ultimately, the story should make the viewer feel something or raise important awareness. I've worked on stories of Veteran affairs and suicide awareness, immigration policy, and mysterious deaths in the Dominican Republic, among other important and timely stories. 

Ideally, these stories will also be newsworthy or have a historical element, although sometimes stories don't fall in either of those categories and I still think they are important to be shared. One example is a project I worked on with Patti Puglady Pugz... yes that's her real name. Pugz breeds pug puppies in her Tottenville apartment, which is decked out from floor to ceiling in pug paraphernalia. Talk about a visual story that evokes emotion! Her bubbly personality mixed with her adorable obsession made for the perfect feature.

Where do you get your ideas? 

Lots of places, but I get most of my ideas from talking to people on the street, word of mouth, or social media posts....and they usually come when I'm off the clock! 

A lot of my ideas also start from event coverage/assignments. For example, the Where Life Leads You Holocaust project started at a celebration for Holocaust survivors at the Jewish Community Center. I went to cover the event (it was one of my first assignments on the job), but while I was there, I connected with many of the survivors and realized there was more to the story than just event coverage. I also connected with Lori Weintrob, who is the Director of the Wagner College Holocaust Center and she helped me reach 15 survivors living on Staten Island. If I hadn't gone to cover that event, I'm not sure the project would have happened.

For nonprofits that want to get coverage, provide some advice on the best way to frame a pitch? 

I like to phrase it like this: stories are about people, not organizations. People make up the organization, so send me a pitch about a person or people who are doing something that is story-worthy. If your nonprofit is doing great work, tell me who is doing it and why it is so great. One of my professors at Syracuse would always say "tell me the why behind the why." I want to know the real story, the heart of it. Something that will make people care and say "wow, that's a great story," as opposed to a generic profile of your organization. What's your why behind the why?

What are your pet peeves about pitches that come your way?

First, when pitches are not well-researched. Just like how journalists research stories before we pursue them, I recommend that organizations do the same about the journalists/news organizations they are pitching stories to. I'm a video and photojournalist focusing on human interest stories and news, but I get dozens of requests for non-visual story write-ups about products or organizations. I also get pitches for stories that have nothing to do with Staten Island, but as a staff member at the Staten Island Advance, our stories usually require a local angle. If you're looking for a profile spotlight about your organization, find reporters who write business profiles. If you have a unique and visual human-interest story on Staten Island, then I'm all ears! 

Second, when pitches are disguised as a request for free advertising. We have an advertising department if you want advertising, but if you're pitching a story, it needs to be just that - a story. There has to be something happening in order for me to want to report on it, such as an obstacle that your organization overcame or a person/people you helped, or something newsworthy.

How can people get in touch with you?

Email me! sstoll@siadvance.com. My inbox is always open. And/or feel free to connect on Instagram or Twitter - @ShiraStoll.

[sabraeal]

#51 sounds really cute! :D

#51: things you said as we danced in our socks

Set a few weeks before graduation

Wide Florida Bay | Previous

Horns rattle from the tinny speaker, and thebriefest bass guitar, before abruptly cutting off. Shirayuki frowns as shescoops up her phone, flicking the screen on – that clip is so unsatisfying, she reallyneeds to fix it –

r u done?im doneim dooooooonnnnne

She glances up from the mixer whirring away, catching the bookbagslumped against the wall of the vestibule, abandoned the moment she walkedthrough the door.

I just got backObi still has one more though

ugh ofctell him hes an overachiever and he should b ashamed

(He’s been sitting like that for almost fifteen minute,pointer hovering over Add Class, hisdesignated selection time bleeding out, only fifteen more before the juniorsgets to start picking their classes too –

“I shouldn’t bother,” he says, toneless. “You have to applyfor it.”

She tucks into his side, laying her head on his shoulder. “Sodoes everyone else. You have just as good a chance as anyone.”

“You’re not doing it.”

She blinks, tilting her head up. “I’m not the one interestedin informatics.”

“It’ll be over my credit load,” he tries instead. “I’d need permissionfrom the dean –”

She tweaks his elbow, just hard enough to make him squirm. “Good thinghe’ll be your graduate advisor.”

It takes a bit for him to blush – or at least for her to see it – but there’s pink just under bronze on his ears, and that’s enough. “That’s not – that’sonly if Admissions all goes temporarily batshit and lets me in.”

His chest shakes, breath coming quick, and she slides her hand down,covering his. “You should do it,” she says, studiedly casual. “What’s the worstthat can happen? They say no?”

His breath steadies, but not easily. “Right. Yeah.”

The click is less than a second. “Fuck ‘em, right?”)

i don’t think i’ll tell him that

FINELAMEsuzus been done since yesterday bcuz hes a slackerwhen obi is done we should celebratelike unreal amts of booze celebrate

It’s – it’s not that her heart pounds, it’s just – quiet,now that the mixer is off. Everything is more – noticeable. Now that she – she’s –

She’s thinking about the last time they got drunk at Yuzuri’sbehest, looming over them as she poured more and more shots, tellingthem it’s a celebration, everyone has todrink –

– I don’t think you’dbe so hard to figure out, darlin’. Obi’s drawl is liquid in her memory,pouring over her like honey. Just have toknow where to touch –

uh sureI guess?

u guess?is there some sort of problem?

She thinks of Obi, chest heaving,slack-jawed, eyes wide – if I capsize inyour thighs, high tide – of what he’dlook like with swollen lips, panting down her body, spreading her legs –

Ugh. She shakes her head. Thewhole thing is just – just – a pop-up she can’t shake, an ad that keepsplaying over her day at odd intervals, only instead of it being for somethinglike experimental allergy medication or Cialis, it’s for Obi, like she suddenly needs to be reminded every few minutes thathe’s attractive and also experienced, like maybe she should consider –

no!everything is fine!

It will pass. It always does.

…whatever the ideas r percolating ill let u know what we decide but like def booze

This isn’t – it isn’t a problem. Everything is fine – very fine, the most fine.

All her papers are written, revised, and already sitting in drop-boxes, her only final is a multiple choice test about European History, most of which she learned just from living with Kiki for a year. If anything, she is set, living her best life –

“God.”

Her whole body flushes, toe-tip to hairline, and she’s so busy trying not to think of skin under her lips, of hearing that in an entirely new context, that she nearly misses the slam of the door.

Obi tilts a long-suffering look toward her as he leans against the wall, toeing his shoes into the tray. “I’m glad that’s fucking done.”

There isn’t a problem, because whatever this is, it’s just a phase. Something that will definitely pass.

It just never takes this long.

“Did your test go well?” she asks, clearing her throat, like it might expel the images her mind is supplying as he saunters around the corner, shirt already pulling up taut torso, sun-bronzed abs on display.

“Hope so,” he sighs, balling his T-shirt up in his hand. “Otherwise Lata’s going to give me a few more of these for putting off our action plan.”

It takes her a whole minute to realize what he’s pointing at, to see the thick silver sprawl of scars across his back and not the way his muscles ripple beneath the skin, the way his shoulder blades make his whole back look like an anatomy model.

She frowns. “Professor Forenzo would never –”

“I know, I know,” he says, waving a hand at her as he crosses into his room. “Gimme a minute, I gotta get out of these clothes. It’s killer out there.”

“Right,” she replies, faint, definitely not noticing the way his hands settle on his waistband, definitely not thinking about his skin shining with sweat –

She doesn’t have a problem, it’s just – just that she hasn’t figured out a way to get him back, to close out this prank so she can – can stop thinking about that stupid song, and capsizing on thighs and what it might feel like if he –

plans decidedwe gonna go C L U B B I N G

Shirayuki’s teeth grit down, her hands bracing against the counter. This is fine. They’ve gone before, a nice little place above a bar in downtown Wilant; it’d been all 80s songs and they’d all had a little more than they’d bargain for, and Obi –

– you’re a squeezing hips, neck-kissing girl, aren’t you, darlin’? –

Ah, maybe she…shouldn’t think about that. He didn’t even remember it in the morning.

“You all right, Doc?”

She jolts, watching Obi settle on the couch, bare feet kicked up on the coffee table, arms sprawled out over the back, remote in hand. Her hands tighten on the counter, trying to ground herself, trying not to have her knees go weak as she traces the delicate bones in his feet, the strain of his t-shirt over his biceps –

if obi gives u shit tell him its obligatorythis is the price of fucking friendship okay

“You might not want to get too c-comfortable,” she stammers, stacking cookies, trying to look like she’s doing something in the kitchen, and not just – ogling him. “Yuzuri says we need to go out and celebrate.”

His head turns toward her, just slightly. “Celebrate what?”

“Being done with, you know…school.” It sounds weak, even to her own ears, and the grunt that comes from him tells her he agrees.

“We’re all going to grad school,” he huffs out. “We’re not going to be done with school for the next decade, if Lata has anything to say about it.”

“Well, it’s the end of undergrad,” she presses, feeling flushed. “And the end of our thesis work –”

“And just what is this version of celebrating going to entail?” he asks with a sigh. “I already have my sweat pants on.”

I’ve noticed is not the right thing to say. Neither is dumbly standing there, thinking how good he makes them look. “Yuzuri says we’re going clubbing.”

“Oh, no,” he says, firm. “No. I don’t dance.”

“She wants me to tell you it’s a non-optional social convention.”

“Is that how she’s getting Suzu to go?”

“Probably.” Her shoulders twitch in a shrug. “You know how she feels about this sort of thing.”

His eyebrows lift. “That there’s no better way to celebrated scientific achievement than to get trashed and grind on strangers?”

“Yes.” Not quit how she would have put it. “That.”

His look turns incredulous. “And you went for that?”

“It’s what she wants to do,” Shirayuki insists, because – because it’s not like she cares. It’s not like she’s thinking about the way he was dancing with anyone who showed interest the last time, wondering if he might –“She’s been here longer. Maybe this is the best way to celebrate. When in Rome, you know?”

“That is the exactopposite of an attitude you should have in Florida. Never do what people inFlorida do.” He rolls his head along the back of the couch to give her a flatlook. “It’s like you’ve never seenthe internet.”

She returns itwith a look of equal flatness. “We made it so the Olin maris can be bred in captivity. We’ve saved an entire species.We can spend one night doing what Yuzuri wants to do.”

“Yuzuri wants toget sloppy drunk and see if she can get Suzu to breed in captivity.”

“And we should support that.” She sighs at his incredulous look, padding out to put the plate of cookies in front of him. “Besides, I’ve seen you dance. You seemed – fine.”

That is definitely a word. That she can use. Safely.

“We danced at a gala,” he protests, “I wore a suit. Youstepped on my feet. That is not this. This is – swampy club dancing. It’s acircle of hell, not an activity.”

She refrains from mentioning the other time; she doesn’t think he’d appreciate remembering just how good he dances drunk to Come On Eileen, no matter how impressive it was.

“I think you just need to get excited.” She’s too used to his stare to shrivel under it. “You know, uh – get pumped.”

“Are you evenplanning on drinking?”

She grimaces.“No.”

“That is such awaste, you can’t even drive.”

She frowns. “Ihave my license now.”

He gives her apointed look. “You can’t even drive.”

She stares at himfor what must be a full minute before it hits her, grin breaking out across her face. “I have just thething to get you in the mood.”

“Aw, c’mon,” hemoans as she pulls him upright. “I’ve got so many Cutthroat Kitchens to watch. On this one, theycook spaghetti and meatballs and someone takes some lady’s garlic.”

“Look, you alreadyknow what happens!” She grins at him. “So now you can do my thing instead.”

He grimaces when she pulls out her phone, when he sees her bring up her music library, pleading, “No, don’t –”

“Why do you build me up –”

“I’m honestly concerned,” he mumbles over the tinny piano. “Do you know what kind of music they play in clubs?”

“–Buttercup, baby–”

“This is to pump you up!” she tells him, trying to guide him into a bobbing two-step, one he follows with the enthusiasm of a man walking to the gallows. “Get your blood flowing!”

“Oh my god,” he sighs. “Of course. This is your pump up music. Motown.”

“It’s uplifting.”

“You listen to Angel of the Morning when you get up, don’t you?”

Her mouth pulls thin. “That’s not Motown –”

“That’s not a no.”

“See,” she tries instead, “you’re getting more lively already!”

There’s a flash of teeth behind his lips, but he hides it in his shoulder. “Whatever, the song is ending. How about you put on an actual club song?”

Her finger hovers over her screen.

“This decade.”

“Fine,” she sighs, scrolling past her collection of 80s music. “I can do that.”

“Uh-huh, I’m–”

“Shawty had those Apple Bottom Jeans, boots with the fur –”

He stares. “All right, I’m concerned you don’t know what year it is.”

“They still play this!” she insists, starting to bop to the beat. “It’s on plenty of club mixes.”

“All right,” he sighs, taking her hands. “This is physically painful, Doc. No one dances like that at a club.”

“Plenty of people do,” she insists, leaving out that most of her club experience is seeing them on CSI reruns. She’s got a feeling he already knows.

“Come here,” he guides her closer, until their hips are almost touching. “Let me just – show you. End the embarrassment.”

“I’m not –” Embarrassing gets swallowed along with her tongue, because his hand hooks over her hips, her own right beneath, guiding her into a slower swing that barely involves feet moving at all. He’s not – not touching her anywhere else, but he’s so close he might as well be, and she’s just – aware. Of all of him.

He smells nice.

“Oh is this – grinding?” she squeaks. “I’ve heard about that before –”

“No.” His voice is entirely too deep. “This would be grinding.”

His hands tug on her, yanking her forward until his knee is between her legs, until every shift on her body brings her right down on his thigh and –

Oh, that is – that’s not –

Okay, maybe this is a problem.

“Oh,” she breathes, jolting away, right back into the wall. That should be it, end of moment, but she – she doesn’t let go of his hands, and then he’s crashing into her, just catching himself on the wall, her hands still twined in his –

“Sorry.” He swallows; she’s so close she can hear it. She can see it too, and the way his eyes are all dark, mostly pupil with a thin rim of gold. His leg is still between hers, and her hands press up by her shoulder, and he’s just – so, so tall –

If he’d just bend down a little, maybe she could –

“Eep!” she yelps, pocket buzzing. “That’s just – I think Yuzuri –”

“Oh,” he breathes, pulling back. “Right. Her clubbing thing.”

r u guys gonna be ready soon?i wanna b drinking already

Obi’s already wandered away, back to the couch, and she –

i think our night is already spoken forobi wants to stay inbut let’s do breakfast tomorrow

boobut i get to pick the place

[braindamageforbeginners]

End of Active Treatment

Month 14, Day 21

I went in to see Radiation Oncologist. She not only cleared me for “a few months,” she’s set me to six months. Hooray.

Which means I’m no longer in “active treatment,” Which also means, for those of you who only follow me here, I’m going to https://medium.com/@patrickkmc10

I may or may not update this blog, but it’ll look more like my updates prior to 2017 - infrequent and occasionally garbled. I now have to figure out what to do, post-cancer, even though GBM is, in the most technical sense, forever. I have another neurocognitive exam tomorrow, then it’s into the great wide open. Maybe We’ll see.

So, I began this weird, freakish, writing project 82 years ago in undergrad as an e-mail to all my old high school friends and family (yeah, if you signed, “keep in touch” in my yearbook, I did keep in touch), occasionally during my time as an EMT, and intermittently in grad school. Then I got into medical school, and I somehow lost the time and/or will to write, and only intermittently did this blog during the recovery from tumor #2. That was a mistake.

If there is one take-away moment I’ve had in the past year, it’s that I should - even if it’s only as a hobby - be writing. Every day. You should, too; if you’re not living a life where you come home with a new story or joke you want to share, you’re not maximizing your potential. Based on the people who tracked me down - from roommates I haven’t thought of in a decade, to people I’ve known for over 20 years, to the radiation tech who called me after-hours to thank me for writing them a thank-you note, it’s that my best opportunity to leave something like a legacy behind is to leave a paper trail of notes. I’ve been informally studying intelligence for most of my life, and the two things that seem absolutely unique to our species are opposable thumbs, and the written word. Other species do rudimentary math,  chimpanzees have entered the Stone Age (according to anthropologists), ours is the only one that seems to have the idea of leaving a written record of events.

When I was very young, I wanted to be a writer. Then life happened, in the form of my first brain tumor at age 17, and I wanted to be a doctor, because that was the only way I could see forward to helping others in my position. I think I got blinded by that for far too long, and then, six years ago, I really wound up in deep shit thanks to Tumor #2, an astrocytoma (which inevitably develops into glioblastoma). I probably passed up far too many opportunities over the last six years under the belief that my time had already come. I think I gave up.

Then, on Nov. 10, 2017; I got the news I’d been dreading for over a decade: I had a terminal diagnosis. And, throughout this whole, horrific process, there was one thing that kept me going: finding out there were a few people - not enough, but a few - who had made it through the deepest, darkest trenches of the abyss and made it out the other side. I’m not there yet - I’m still in the recovery phase, and I still have a disease the World Health Organization has described using phrases like “abysmal” and “inevitable.” But, in the last year - I know, because I’ve literally spent some days just hitting the “refresh” button on the FDA’s clinical trials website - science has made huge strides in developing immunology-based treatments that should last.

The lasting lesson of the past year is that I should’ve spent a lot more of those six years networking and making contacts, because I’m apparently really good at that, and that’s a far better route to success than gnawing away at something I’m not great at. So, if some of you get a phone call in the near future from me asking for a favor, I do hope you’ll help me out.

The final lesson - apart from the importance of self-care (which is like shoveling snow - it’s not taking a relaxing bath, it’s doing the important-but-boring stuff like eating properly, getting to the gym every day, and showing up for your blood-draws).

Speaking of showing up for the blood samples, Radiation Oncologist told me that I was one of the few patients who’d consistently shown up for the neurocognitive study/assessment. This struck me as very odd; I also saw on the Barrow Neurological Institute’s page that no patient - no one - has ever refused to have their tumor tissue banked. That makes a little more sense. When you really do believe your end is imminent, you stop worrying about yourself, and start worrying about the next folks in line. I suppose that’s the defining trait of our species; we actively help others when our own end is in sight. And, as the year went on, I started to feel - to believe - that my life wasn’t over, it was just - in a weird way - beginning. I think that’s what I lost six years ago, and I’m starting to recover. And, that, I think, is the handle on the whole, weird, “brain cancer” thing that you, reader, can take with you to your own life - every moment should feel like you’re beginning something grander than your own self.

[1ooo-w0rds]

we met on ocean avenue pt 4

A/N: October fic! This chapter was giving me so much trouble especially the ending. @piper-mc-meme this AU is driving me crazy.

Piper @PiperMcMeme posted a tweet: I'm walking towards him rn. My heart is pounding! OMG!

Sam32_blondesuperman: OMG? What's going on? Tell me the tea?

Alicia37: Someone on Tumblr dared @PiperMcMeme to ask Jason Grace aka @BlondeSuperman out.

Sam32_blondesuperman: Holy shit! Get it girl!

Hazel @HazelArts posted a video: @PiperMcMeme Do it for the vine! #McMemeDare #BlondSuperMan #HESAIDYES?! #IKnowVineIsDead #lameJokes

Jones_Star: Holy Crap?!

leafy: What the heck?

eightMarky: Has to be a publicity stunt, right? #HuntingtonHospital

jack_of_some_trades: Isn't he dating QueenRey? She's all over his instagram

PiFi: AWWW! They're so cute together. I ship it. #Jasiper #ShipName#IShipIt

QueenBee: Nah. BlondSuperMan and QueenRey are much better together. They're so hot!

Reyna squinted at her bright screen of her phone, not quite awake yet as she scroll through her Twitter feed. Her notifications were pinging wildly since yesterday afternoon. She immediately muted them to focus on her video edits for her next volleyball video. Reyna wasn't sure when she fell asleep last night. Her laptop sat dead on her floor, thankfully all her work backed up to the cloud.

Reyna pushed her loose hair out of her face as she sat up, crossing her legs underneath her. The said video wasn't clear but she could make out Jason's tall form beside the railing as a nervous petite girl approached him. Her hands fiddled in front of her. The audio was rough with children screaming and loud splashes from the pool.

"Hey, you look new here." Reyna could hear her say. Jason smiled kindly as he inched over, giving her space beside him.

"That obvious?" Jason laughed, lifting his sunglasses. They traded introductions and chatted for a bit. Piper pointed out people with colorful commentary, getting a few chuckles from Jason. He leaned his arms against the railing, waving to someone. Reyna's eyes narrowed as Piper took a deep breath.

"Will you go out with me?" She half-shouted with her eyes closed. Jason nodded his head but before he could say anything, a young man appeared by his side, pulling Jason away.

"Fucking internet." Reyna murmured as she scrolled through the comments and retweets. She was tagged in a good number of reactions. Probably because Jason's latest tweet was of them at Santa Monica beach with Thor. Her phone vibrated signaling a FaceTime call. She arched her eyebrow at the caller id before tapping the green button. "You're an idiot." Reyna greeted plainly as Jason's exhausted face blinked onto the black screen. He groaned, burying his face into his pillow.

"I thought I would get sympathy from you." Jason replied as he lifted his head, pouting at her. His bed hair was a perfect balance between sexy and cute. A dark stubble curved around his masculine chin. Jason shifted to his elbows, unintentionally giving Reyna an eyeful. Her eyes widen before she quickly turned to look at her wall, blush creeping onto her face. Fact: Jason Grace sleeps shirtless. Even from a brief view and tiny screen, she could make out the defined lines of his pecs and abs.

"Sorry," Reyna said, trying to hide her breathlessness. "Here, call again and I'll be nice." She stood up, grabbing a loose cardigan from her chair as she left her room. Hylla sat at the kitchen island, stirring her coffee as she held out her required reading. She nodded to her sister as Reyna plucked a stem of grapes from the fruit bowl. "I promise." Hylla narrowed her gaze at her sister's odd comment.

"No you won't." Jason's voice bounced off the high ceilings of the kitchen. Hylla blinked, definitely not recognizing the voice. 'Who's that?' she mouthed as Reyna head towards the balcony. "You'll still sass me. You're worse than Percy."

"Am not." Reyna countered as she pressed the phone against her chest. 'No one.' she mouthed back before stepping out on the balcony. Reyna settled on their lounging beach chair before pulling Jason back out. "Now, what's your side of the story?"

Jason dragged his hand over his face before flipping over to lay on his bed. For a moment, the world spun showing Reyna a quick glimpse of Jason's hotel room before it filled with his handsome face. "I don't know. One moment we were just talking as she pointed out various people of the cast. Someone called my name and I turned. Piper asked a question and I nodded yes to show I was still listening. Before I could process what exactly she asked, someone pulled me away. She blindsided me."

"And got it all on video." Jason stared at Reyna like she grew another head. "It's a perfect social media storm. The daughter of Huntington Hospital main star asked out current teenage heartthrob and got it all on video." Reyna refrained from mentioning how her timeline was flooded with retweets of the video and people at-ing her with outrageous comments to get any reaction. She wasn't going to feed their curiosity. "Don't look at Twitter. It's a bloodbath."

"Of course it is." Jason groaned. "Excuse me for a second." He placed the phone down, giving Reyna a view of the ceiling. A muffled scream echoed through the speaker followed by excited barking from Thor. The camera shook as the dog jumped onto the bed. Reyna laughed as she could see Thor's long tail wag back and forth. "Thor, not now!" Jason laughed as he wrapped his arm around the dog and reappeared into view. "Having a crisis."

"Dogs don't care." Reyna replied as she leaned back. "Have you ate yet, Jason?" He hugged Thor to his side as he thought. Thor eagerly licked the side of Jason's face who smiled in response. Her heart warmed at the sight. Thor can easily shift his owner's mood. "Are you free today?"

"Kind of." Jason answered as he rested his head against Thor's body. "Just for the morning. I have a table reading after lunch, a meeting with my stylist, a few headshots and then I need to sign the lease for my apartment." Jason ran his hand over Thor's furry bottom. "I also need someone to watch his monster. I haven't found a doggie daycare yet. Reyna?"

"Aurum and Argentum are already suspicious of me from last time." Reyna commented as she looked towards the kitchen. Her two graceful greyhounds slept on their large doggie bed. Like Aurum could sense her, the beautiful dog lift his head and wagged his long tail. Jason held Thor up to the camera as he panted adorably. "Fine, I'll keep an eye on him later. He'll be exhausted running with our dogs."

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Rey." Jason said as she shook her head fondly.

"You owe me breakfast." Reyna ordered as she looked up the address. "Here's the breakfast spot. Meet me there in thirty. Put on your best 'I'm not a teenage heartthrob' outfit please. They have amazing blueberry pancakes, Percy can vouch for that. And they're dog friendly."

"Yes madam. See ya." Jason's image quickly disappeared leaving Reyna alone with her thoughts. She stared at the black screen before pressing the phone against her chest.

Jason is a mess. In reality, he's nothing like the suave characters directors often casted him as. He doesn't have a typical teenager experience, constantly moving around for work. Growing up in the spotlight, Jason played different parts. Reyna often wondered if he knew the difference between himself and the characters he played. Her frown deepened. The video was getting too much attention way too quickly.

Reyna clicked her phone on, pulling up the chat she had with Annabeth. Keep an eye out for him, Rey. "I'm trying." Reyna murmured before heading towards the kitchen.

"That wasn't Frank's voice." Hylla greeted curtly. Reyna sighed, glancing up at the ceiling.

"No it wasn't. I have other friends, you know." Reyna commented as she hopped on the stool beside her. Hylla looked exhausted juggling grad night courses and her coaching job at the nearby high school. After getting her undergrad in psychology, Hylla returned to study sports medicine to help her student athletic better. She reached out, brushing a bit of Reyna's hair out of her face. "He's having a crisis."

"Ah youth. I thought it was Frank by the way you smiled." Reyna touched her cheeks like she could feel the smile. What does Hylla even mean by that? "You only smile that widely after talking to Frank." Reyna's eyes furrowed in confusion. What does that mean? Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

Jason: Might be a bit late. Get me a stack of pancakes and bacon pls.

"There it is again." Hylla pointed Reyna's side.

"I… it…" Reyna stuttered, trying to get her thoughts together. "I don't have time for you to psychoanalyze me!" Reyna shouted as she ran to her room. Hylla's laughter rang as Reyna slammed the door, pressing her back against it. Her heart pounded at the implications.

"No, no time." Reyna murmured as she moved to her closet. Her fingers touched the soft fabric of a cute and flattering sundress. She pulled her hand away like it burned. It was just a dress though. It wouldn't mean anything. "Damn it, Hylla. What are you doing pulling ideas in my head?"

"Something casual but nice." Reyna reasoned as she shoved the dress aside, pulling out a red long flannel shirt. Her face flushed at the memory of their first meeting. She only wore her sports bra and short shorts, fresh from practice. She pulled a pair of white jean shorts and a plain black tee. She could pair it with a few bracelets or necklace if Reyna felt like it.

"You look cute." Hylla commented as Reyna walked out, gathering her hair over her shoulder. Reyna narrowed her gaze. She didn't need to know that. "What? It's a cute outfit. Trying to impress someone?"

"You're evil." Reyna murmured as she grabbed her keys. "And you're enjoying this. I do not need this right now. Heading to Sophie's."

"Get me an order of blueberry pancakes!" Hylla shouted as Reyna shut the door behind her.

Reyna twirled her order number in her hand as she scooped out a spot on the beach. Sophie's set up was more like a snack shack instead of a diner. A single counter took orders, pumping out delicious breakfast food and much needed coffee. The aroma of sweet syrup, freshly cut fruit and pancake batter mixed with the salty sea air. Seagulls hovered around, well aware there's food here. Reyna found a spot beside the sand, kicking her converses off, and buried her toes in the warm sand. As long as Reyna could remember, she always loved the beach. She couldn't imagine living without it.

"Wow," Reyna heard a soft whisper behind her. Jason stood there, gazing towards were the deep blue of the water and clear sky met. He waved at her as he approached. "Do you approve of my outfit?" He asked cheekily as he held his arms out and did a small turn. The pair of dark washed jeans hugged his legs nicely. He wore them with leather flip flops like a casual weekender. The athletic tank top revealed his pale arms. Thor tugged at his leash, trying to greet Reyna.

"I'm sure your fashion guru will have a few choice words for you." Reyna commented as he sat down. Jason rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his blond hair. Thor wandered over to her, wagging his long tail as he pressed his furry face against her leg. Thor barked eagerly as he leaned into her touch. "Thor is as cute as always."

"Nothing can faze him, thankfully." Jason murmured as he check his phone once more before tucking it away. "I've muted Twitter, turn off DM on Instagram and silenced my phone except for certain numbers. My manager has been blowing it up with text messages."

"Is it wise to ignore him?" Reyna asked as she tucked a bit of her hair over her shoulder. Jason shrugged. He looked really young right now like how he truly is, not an actor on the big screen, but a confused young man. Perfectly timed, the server appeared with two plates and cups of fresh coffee. Jason's face lit up at the sight of pancakes. "I got you a Julian Ramirez special. Blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon, sweet maple syrup and butter."

"Sweet and savory, something he and I can agree on." Jason murmured, grabbing his utensils eagerly. Reyna handed Thor a dog treat which he eagerly gobbled down and settled at the base of their feet.

"Not going to snap a pic?" Reyna asked as she added some sugar into her coffee. Jason shook his head.

"Nah, this is me time." Jason replied before looking up. "Well you and me time. Social media doesn't need to follow my every waking moment." Reyna blinked at the surprisingly sweet comment he delivered so smoothly. "Oh man, this is so good." Jason exclaimed as he dug into the pancakes, gushing over the fluffiness of the pancakes with the sweet blueberries and salty bacon. It still blows her mind how he's actually here in front of her, in the flesh, not just an image on the screen. How she can just ask him if he would like to hang out and they can, like real friends.

"Well, are you going to ask?" Reyna blinked at Jason's sudden question. They just finished their food, watching the passing people as they finished their coffee. A bit of syrup stuck to Jason's chin as he wiped his hands.

"I was going to let you digest before asking the hard hitting questions." Reyna teased as she handed him a napkin. He took it sheepishly, wiping his chin. Reyna coaxed Thor towards her, picking the puppy up so he sat comfortably in her lap.

"How very kind of you." Jason said as he stirred his own drink. "Shoot."

"What do you think of Piper, honestly?" Reyna asked, running her fingers over Thor's fur. Jason sipped his drink, looking out at the ocean.

"Honestly?" Jason echoed as he turned back. Reyna nodded her head. "She's bold. I don't have the guts to ask anyone out or at least someone I've just met. She's charming, already cracking jokes about people and laughing with me like we're old friends. There's an openness about her that I envy, that I wished I had. She can come off as strong especially if the only thing you know about her is what's going on Twitter and social media. I don't think she's a bad person."

"She sounds pretty great." Reyna whispered as she hugged Thor. "Just got swept up and hunt down by the social media hounds." Jason nodded his head, agreeing. It was the age they live in. Putting yourself out there is easy but scary. People can praise and attack you with just a Twitter account. Reyna has received a few cruel comments over time.

"She a good girl and I don't want to hurt her." Jason sighed as he rested his elbows on the table, cradling his face. "I feel like we can be great friends because god knows I need more friends. But what do I say? Has anyone ever asked you out?" Reyna's heart pound as she met Jason's gaze. Jason is a very attractive young man. Any girl would be affected especially if he looked at her like she held the answer to everything.

"Once." She whispered, her mouth suddenly dry. Like it could sense the tension, Reyna's phone vibrated beside her, shaking the table. The screen lit up with a text message from Hylla. Instinctively, Reyna and Jason both looked down at the device. Reyna swiped the message away, leaving her lock screen. Her expression softened as she looked at the picture.

It's a selfie of her and a young man bundled in warm winter clothing. They were at an outdoor ice rink with twinkling glow of the lamps. The man was of Asian descent with clean dark hair and a boyish smile. His arms wrapped around Reyna's shoulders as they both smiled at the camera. Snow dotted their dark hair but Reyna could feel the warmth and love from the photo.

"Who's that?" Jason whispered, pulling Reyna back to him. An endearing smile curled on her lips as she picked up the device.

"My boyfriend."

[cancerbiophd]

Hi Julia! I'll be starting graduate school soon, and I'm going to do the research for my master thesis under supervision of a scientist that is quite experienced in his field, so I want to make the most of the it. Any tips or advice? I'm kind of introverted and this kind of interaction just doesn't come naturally to me. Thanks! Have a nice day <3

hello hello!

congrats on starting grad school!

I’m an introvert myself so i totally understand what you mean! and i just wanna say that being an introvert--in any setting--is not a detrimental thing. we have a lot to offer to the world by being who we are!

so here are my tips for making the most out of your mentor interactions:

You can choose to adopt a different persona for interactions with your mentor, aka “fake it till you make it” or, even better “fake it till you become it”. For example, introvert!Julia isn’t fond of making phone calls (aren’t we all haha), but gradstudent!Julia will make all the phone calls she needs to find out details about a reagent because her experiment depends on it. Basically, gradstudent!Julia has no time to be shy, because she’s gotta do what she’s gotta do! So pull out your inner Superman to your shier Clark Kent and do what you have to do to save the world and succeed in grad school and in your career. You may find, as I did, that you’ll slowly feel more comfortable in social situations, and things will become more natural as you practice more and more. 

Start by just being polite. I find that’s the most minimal interaction I can have with someone that still comes off as positive. Greet them when you see them with a “hello how are you?”, listen intently when they’re talking, thank them for taking the time to show you stuff, etc. I don’t need to be my mentor’s best friend; I just need to be courteous and willing to learn. 

Ask questions. This is where your grad student persona could take over. Don’t understand something, even if it’s an acronym? Ask! I promise you that you won’t be bothering them. Mentors are there to teach, and honestly there’s nothing more exciting to scientists than to be asked something they’re an expert in :) Plus, asking questions will show that you’re invested in the research/field and willing to learn, which are good impressions to have. Additionally, this is the best way to take advantage of their years of experience. Ask for their advice on everything from experimental design to career options! That’s truly how you’ll “make the most of it”. 

Schedule regular 1-on-1 meetings. Not only is this a staple for labs, but the more private setting (ie away from the hustle and bustle of the other people in lab) may give your introverted self a more comfortable environment. Like having coffee with one friend vs going to a party, yeah? I like to have an outline of what I want to discuss before the meeting to ease any anxiety, and it has the added bonus of appearing extremely organized and on top of things!

Keep in touch once you graduate. I looooove to hear from the undergrads I’ve mentored throughout the years, even if it’s just a quick email telling me that they got into their dream med school. Add your mentor on LinkedIn and keep in contact! They’re an excellent person to write you letters of rec for future jobs, refer you to said jobs, etc. 

Lastly, take care of yourself. We introverts need our recharge time, so if things start to feel too overwhelming, take a break. Maybe walk around campus a bit, or put in headphones and organize your notes, or do data analysis from home. There’s nothing worse than burnout, and being burned out from too much social interaction is definitely a thing for us.

I hope that helps a bit, at least to get you started. And as I said, things will get easier with time and practice. You got this <3

[four-leaf-fairytale]

Day 3: Wedding

“Which story would you like tonight?” Rai asks, sitting at the foot of his daughter’s bed. She bounces a bit, bundling her knees up to her chest.

“The hero and villain who fell in love,” she says, and Rai raises his eyebrows.

“That’s a classic, isn’t it?” He turns to the bed across from hers, and sure enough, his son is listening too, with wide dark eyes. “You two probably know it better than I do at this point.” He lowers his voice into something softer; a bedtime story voice. “Once upon a time, there was a hero and a villain.”

“And they both had super powers,” his son says, hushed.

“Yes. The hero using his powers for good, the villain using hers for evil. He had a very important mission assigned to him.”

“She was his mission,” Rai’s daughter chimes in, her eyes glittering.

“Correct,” Rai says, smiling. “His mission was to take her out.” “On a date?” his son asks, and Rai falters.

“No,” he says slowly, trying to think of how to word this. “I mean, take…”

His daughter makes a cutting motion across her throat, sticking out her tongue, and his son makes a wordless noise of comprehension.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” Rai says, flustered, and is met with protests as the children plead for him to keep going. “I—alright, yes, I’ll keep going. But you have to understand, these were dark and confusing times. There was an enormous amount of turmoil between the people, and people in power.”

“Out of fear, and anger, and mostly out of love, a new kind of protector was created. Dangerous, independent fighters, whose powers were superhuman. Those superhuman fighters were superheroes.”

“And supervillains!”

“Yes, sweetie.” Rai’s mouth quirks up, and he dives further into his storytelling voice. “They were masters of the elements, stronger and faster than the rest of the human race, able to do things no one else could do. Each superhero or supervillain had a different power, each stranger and more wonderful than the last.” He thinks he can almost conjure the images behind the words—A blonde hero with vines growing up from the ground where she walks. A towering man whose face is obscured by a fog of purple haze, voices whispering around him.  A woman with glowing pink hair, drawing the blood out of her own body and shaping it into knives around her, a man in a pale yellow cowl, calling lightning down from the sky. Superheroes, supervillains. Strange and wonderful.

“The only thing superheroes and supervillains were truly afraid of? Each other.”

And Rai can see it again. The supervillain with her glowing pink hair, glowing pink eyes, rings of blood ripping themselves out of her arms and forming into a carmine scythe. The superhero, masked and hooded, leaving only a glimpse of dark skin under the pastel yellow. The storm he summons whips at them both, and torrents of rain lash across the rooftops.

“And so sometimes, a superhero’s mission was to stop a supervillain at all costs.”

The battles were hard, drawn out and bloody. They were kids in the beginning, but they quickly stopped being so. Rai thinks of police sirens, crashing lightning, bloody noses and hospital visits. He thinks of high school slowly passing, of four years of undergrad coming and going, turning sixteen while hiding a wound in his side and turning twenty three the exact same way. He thinks of grad school, like college, at home, so that someone could keep an eye on the villain and protect the city streets.

“She was the battle that would change his life. But when the moment finally came…” 

A meeting—an accidental one. They had been in civilian wear. The hero had been wearing a frayed sweater and his glasses, and the villain’s hair and eyes had been an ordinary dark brown. They had recognized each other still—locking eyes across a college classroom and instantly knowing. The hero’s eyes had widened. The villain had winked.  

“He couldn’t do it.”

Because the villain had walked into his classroom, and tapped her finger against her lips, and then she was giving a speech to the class about antiracist activism and issues the college needed to change. And when the hero cornered her that night, she had been robbing a store that had been in the news a month earlier for donating to conversion therapy. And the hero started to notice a pattern.

“She was different than he expected,” Rai says, softly. “Sure, she was…charming, and intelligent, but she was also…unexpectedly honorable.”  

The villain in a cape, wrecking police equipment. The villain in a dress, singing at an inner-city arts fundraiser. The villain at town hall, breaking into the mayor’s office and leaking documents to the public. The villain on campus, helping teach women’s self defense. The villain with pink hair, terrorizing protesters outside planned parenthood. The villain with brown hair, donating blood (and that one he should have seen coming, really, blood magick was her whole thing).

“And it made him realize…that maybe what he considered heroism was not the only way to make the world a better place.” After all, the status quo wasn’t always something that helped people. “And so they started talking.”

In the hallways. On the green. In the cafeteria, and then at restaurants, and on walks, and—

“That led to a few lunch dates. Very tentative. After all, they were on different sides, and they often disagreed with each other.”

And those disagreements happened on rooftops and in alleys, behind masks, in costumes. Just because they were dating didn’t mean that the villain would stop doing her work, and just because they were dating didn’t mean that the hero could let her. They still fought, tooth and nail.

“Dinner dates followed, even as they continued to fight on opposite sides.” Picnics in the daytime, electric shocks at night. Breakfast in bed in the villain’s apartment, bloody knuckles at the bank near the hero’s. Kissing in pajamas, in workout clothes, in formal wear, in capes and masks—whoops!

“And they fell in love.” Rai smiles, more to himself than to the children, now. “And so together, they decided to attempt the riskiest thing a hero or a villain can do.” He thinks of twin rings, one with a blood red ruby set in it, the other with a stormy sapphire.  “They decided to marry.”

“Wow,” Rai’s daughter says quietly, and he leans in to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah, wow,” he repeats, chuckling a bit. “And on the hero’s wedding day, he felt he would rather brave a thousand deadly supervillains than go through with what he was about to attempt.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, marriage is a wonderful thing,” Rai says. “But it takes work to make an entire life with someone, even if you love them. And the superhero loved the villain, but he was also afraid.”

“He was afraid of her?”

“No. He was afraid that they wouldn’t be able to hold this thing they had together. He was afraid that one of them, or both of them, would get hurt.”  

Rai lowers his voice back into something more suited for bedtime. Clever kids—if he keeps discussing the complexities of marriage, they’ll  never go to sleep. “But when he saw her, walking toward him?” And he pictures her then—Her dark hair tied back and up, under a veil of white. The white lace of her gloves against her smooth brown skin. Her footsteps steady, and confident, as if she was completely unafraid. The way she had looked up at him then, her dark eyes sparkling, and smiled—joyful and carefree and just a touch wonderstruck.

“He took her hand, looked into her eyes, and said the two most powerful, most trusting words a person can say to anyone.”

“What?”

“He said, I do.”

And for that moment, it had just been her. It felt like he could see her all at once—every version of her that there was. He could see her fifteen years old, in a black halloween cloak and fabric mask, still tripping over her own magic. He could see her at twenty, pulling blood across her own face to protect her identity, then tossing a reddened dagger at him. He could see her at college, giving speeches, protesting, on coffee dates, on dinner dates, just waking up, working too late into the night, fighting, laughing, crying, smiling. Smiling at him, dressed in white, saying I do.  

“Wow, that’s so cool.”

“Yeah,” Rai chuckles. “So… they retired. Settled down. Had a few kids. In a way, they traded one life of adventure for another. And… “ He pauses, trying to think of some way to finish the story. “They were better off. The end.”

His son tilts his head. “Don’t they live happily ever after?”

Rai thinks about it. Happily ever after? “You know what kiddo?” He says, standing up from his daughter’s bed. “I think they do.”

He turns off the lights. Heads down the hall to the other bedroom in the house.

Cora is sitting at her desk, hunched over some bit of work. She’s wearing an oversized cardigan and reading glasses, and her long dark hair is twisted into a knot behind her, with a few stray strands falling around her shoulders. Rai looks down at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. After all these years, this is his favorite version of Cora—soft and unguarded. Safe.

“What story was it tonight?��� She asks, not looking up from her papers.

He takes a few steps closer to lean against the back of her chair, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Ours.”

[clonerightsagenda]

This was last minute but I'm a grad student so I was mostly drafting from life anyway. You can tell I was losing steam by the end though. All the library details are from my uni library, although I have never seen any dead Union soldiers, or any other ghosts for that matter. The creepy grad cages are my favorite part of giving tours.

 tuesjade prompt: school

The third floor of the library is so quiet every keystroke echoes. Last time you heard someone walking through, it was the security guard on their hourly late night round. You picked this spot for its isolation.

The door leading out into the central stacks creaks open, and you listen for the student's footsteps passing by. Instead, the curtain between your carrel and the stacks twitches back, and you squint out to see Jade waving at you from the other side of the grating. "I like your shower curtain."

"You would. School mascots are just anthro with a veneer of plausible deniability.”

You don't mention that the curtain is on your side of the door, which means she's pulled it backward (and tied it up with businesslike lashwork) with Space powers instead of with her hands. There's no one else in here, and the security cameras can't pick up that level of fine detail.

"Don't science students have their own library?" you ask. Wait shit, it sounds like you're trying to get rid of her. Which you're not, exactly, although if you wanted company you'd be doing research in your apartment. Still, when it comes to people it's safe to be rude to, even after all these years Jade Harley doesn't make your list.

If she takes offense, she doesn't say so. "They do, but a few of my theoretical readings have mentioned Foucault, and I think I've gone as long as I can pretending I know who that is."

"Yeah, you'll get random Foucault encounters in unexpected disciplines. If it's not him it's Derrida popping out of the tall grass of the lit review. Philosophers were never meant to escape."

"You would know." She glances at the shelves nearby. This section is materials so old they're still in Dewey instead of Library of Congress - another reason you preferred the spot. No one needs this stuff. "How many libraries do all your programs fit into?"

"A couple, but this is the best one." You've got a pretty good setup here, if you say so yourself. Books stacked up on the makeshift shelving unit, your own modem wired into the wall to make up for the library's spotty wifi, and a mini microwave tucked under your feet. Home away from home. "None of the others let you rent carrels."

"Is that what they're called? They look more like spooky library jail cells."

"Some undergrads passed through a few hours ago while I was typing and I heard one whisper, ‘I think there's a graduate student in there.’ They screamed and ran when I sneezed."

She giggles. "They thought you were a ghoooost."

"If anywhere on campus were haunted, this would be it." The third floor stacks are perpetually poorly lit. Thanks to later additions to a library building only Escher could love, the arched windows on the far wall open to nothing but brick. In Roxy's words, "it’s where you go to get some serious ass studying done or to share a hip flask with a Civil War ghost.”

"Actually, I asked Aradia, and she said it's clean. The chancellor's house, on the other hand, definitely registers as harboring some kind of otherworldly presence. We haven't determined whether it's the chancellor yet."

"Take a look at some of the desks and tell me this place isn't possessed by demonic energies." Graffiti springs up faster than the staff can afford to replace furniture, and when the wooden desks are too choked with pen doodles and carved Greek letters, people move to the walls. If they're not sharing their phone numbers, they're swapping insults with rival frats. You take anthropological interest in this detritus, although one time you'd tried to decipher a Sharpie scribble, made out "We fucked here ;)", and speedily left the seat.

"Rose says the building appeals to your Gothic sensibilities."

"If she compares me to Lord Byron, tell her those are fighting words."

Jade peers in, and you make a halfhearted effort to push the clutter of Monster cans and energy bar wrappers out of her line of sight. "How long have you been in there?"

You stretch your legs as far as they can go, which isn’t far. "I can still feel my feet, and if I have circulation that means it's been under ten hours."

She purses her lips. "Dirk..."

You gesture toward your open PDF files. Several are still waiting for you to review their footnotes. "This dissertation isn't going to write itself."

"It won't write itself if you're dead either."

"Overwork is neither Heroic nor Just."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm confident on a philosophical basis."

She shakes her head. "I know I'm up a little late too. I had a night class on campus, and then I had a bunch of grading to do… You know how I lose track of time when I'm working sometimes." When you'd all lived together, both of you would get lost in projects and miss meals, only noticing the time when someone showed up to drag you out of your room. Jade had started setting timers for herself. She recommended the habit, but you hated having a buzzer interrupt your thoughts. Things take the time they take.

"I've heard rumors about your grading." You may not have a vibrant social network, but you keep your ear to the ground on social media. There's a waiting list for section 4 of Physics 1000. If you weren't long past gen ed credit requirements, you'd take it yourself. "Everyone thinks you'll be a soft touch."

You couldn’t teach. It still takes effort for you to spit out “Good job” to a friend. Your brain, conditioned by years of self-criticism, jumps over congratulations to what’s next and what they could do better. If a three-year-old presented you with their fingerpainting, your first reaction would probably be to tell them to wash their hands. No one deserves to be subjected to that. Isn’t Dave living proof?

“They have to learn,” Jade says. She doesn’t love it when people can’t keep up either, but she, unlike you, has historically been able to slow down and let them catch up without beating the lesson into them. "I let anyone who wants come into office hours. We'll walk through the concepts together and then they can resubmit. It's not my fault if they don't want to try. But anyway, I don't make a habit of all-nighters.” There she goes, picking the thread of the conversation back up again. She’s always been good at that, no matter how much people try to dodge. “They're not good for you. So how about once I finish looking up whoever this very important French guy is, I take you home?"

"Isn't that out of your way?"

She snaps her fingers. "The teleportation express runs 24/7 and omnidirectionally."

"Shit, I should have asked you for a ride here. On the shuttle I got stuck between some guy dumping his date over the phone and an octogenarian professor who might've died while we were in traffic."

"Ask me any time. I'm glad I ran into you tonight though, and not just to rescue you from dying in the depths of Web of Science. Jane wanted me to pass on that your resolution for the graduate assembly got voted down."

"Another one for the garbage, huh?" You click out of the open PDFs and drag them into your 'To process' folder. As much as you’ll never admit it, your blood pressure drops along with the number of tabs open. "I've given them the opportunity to be relevant on this campus, but if they want to keep kissing the administration's ass, that's their business."

"It's hard to challenge the people giving you funding. I'm writing grant applications for the lab this semester, believe me, I know."

Money. That’s an aspect of civilization you hadn’t missed growing up in its waterlogged ruins. For an institution allegedly devoted to higher knowledge, this place is obsessed with it.

"Speaking of which,” Jade continues, “Jane also said if you try anything else the board might pass a new resolution to stop letting you submit resolutions."

You snap your laptop shut. "This is homophobia."

She snorts. "I won't be long, I just need to track down a selected works book. Then I'll come back and we can get out of here."

" I can't be held responsible for any losses to scholarship." You stand up and stretch. Something in your back pops, and your head swims. Ok, maybe you've been sitting here too long.

"I'll take the blame from the academy. Just get tidied up while you're waiting." She looks critically at your collection of Monster cans. "You can recycle those, you know."

By the time Jade gets back with a thick-spined book on philosophy, you’re out of your carrel and have brushed most of the crumbs off yourself. The recyclables have been scooped up and dumped into your backpack’s outer pocket. It’ll be a sticky mess later. “Are you ready to go?” she asks

“Sure.” It’s not even one, which makes this the earliest you’ve gotten home all week. You’re struck by an impulse to yawn and almost crack your jaw resisting it. For fuck’s sake, it’s only November. You’re not allowed to get tired until March at the earliest.

Everything flashes green, and before you have time to rub your eyes, you’re standing outside your front door. Part of you expects to walk through together, but you don’t all live under the same roof anymore. Growing older changes things, even for gods.

“You’re coming to the group dinner next weekend, right?” she asks.

You dig in your pocket for your key. There must be some sort of interdimensional portal in there, it’s fucking ridiculous. Roxy probably knows about eldritch creatures that eat housekeys, that’s got to be within the Void’s purview. “It’s at Jane’s place this time, right?”

“It was the last time I checked.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Then I’ll see you later. Have a good night!” She waves and vanishes before you have time to reply. So instead you turn around, stick the key in the lock, and step inside.

 (Dirk would be one of those zombified PhD candidates who you can find obsessively scrolling through 50-year-old dissertations on microfilm at 3 am. He IS the library ghost. He doesn't attend any committee meetings because he's overscheduled but he does send proxies with detailed questions/comments/concerns for every agenda item. If they knew what he looked like, the other committee members would probably kill him on sight.)

[zephfair]

Day 10 FFVII AU Fluffy pre-Cloud/Sephiroth/Zack

I’m doing this 30-Day AU Challenge.

Day 10 is the Regency Romance, but I’m not a fan at all of Regency romances.

So instead, I did two little fluff ficlets. The first is a FFVII Jock AU and the second is a random FFVII AU where Sephiroth is a waiter. They’re both based on OT3 prompts I found a couple years ago. Both are rated G.

The prompt: “there was supposed to be a party here tonight but no one showed up but us including whoever the fuck’s house this is want to see what’s in their Netflix queue” au

“WOOOOHOOOO ARE YOU READY TO PARTY!!!” Zack shouted when the door of the house opened, bracing himself to be knocked over by a swell of music, laughing voices and the smell of booze.

Instead, all he got was a curled lip and narrowed eyes from a very disgruntled Sephiroth, live, in the flesh, right in front of him.

“Oh, hey, dude, how are ya! How's it going?” Zack kept up his cheer and his grip on four six-packs.

“It is not going,” Sephiroth said coldly.

“Ah. Well. Is this your place? You're having a party, right? Can I come in?” Zack's sheepishness was creeping up and his shoulders hunched a little, so he was surprised when Sephiroth sighed but stepped back so he could enter. The house was quiet and empty.

It was a nice looking house, a little under-furnished, a little run-down and messy, like something his bachelor uncle might live in.

“No, this is not mine. This is Vincent's house, he's my whatever,” Sephiroth waved a hand. “He invited me over tonight, but then a bunch of his old frat brothers stormed in and carried him off. Apparently word got out he was hosting a party so I've been fending off drunken, rowdy undergrads all evening.”

“Oh,” Zack shuffled his feet a little at the implied insult. At least he hadn't even had a drink yet. The sense of awe, slight shame, and desire to drop to his knees in worship was just a natural reaction to Sephiroth who, like Madonna or Beyonce, only needed a single name for recognition.

Sephiroth had been the university’s biggest athlete ever, the star quarterback who’d led the football team to a shocking national championship his senior year. He’d been the reason Zack had chosen the school, wanting to be a hero like Sephiroth, even though Sephiroth had eschewed a pro career and instead pursued a master’s degree and become a grad assistant for the team, along with two of his best teammates.

He was also easily the most gorgeous person Zack had ever seen, and this was sadly the most he’d ever spoken to Zack in three and a half years since Zack was a defensive player and Sephiroth helped coach the offense.

Now Sephiroth was standing, glaring at him, arms crossed over his chest.

“How did you hear about this supposed party?” Sephiroth demanded.

“Ah, Angeal,” Zack easily gave up his beloved mentor. “He said that him and Genesis were going to hit up this great party and if I brought some good brews, I could come.” Zack looked up earnestly with  his patented Puppy Eyes. “I made sure I got the good stuff; it's imported and everything.”

“That's nice.” Sephiroth didn't drink regularly and couldn't tell an ale from a stout but at least Zack would have something nice to take home with him when he booted him out.

The doorbell rang again and Seph pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I've been turning down everyone, but they keep coming. How the hell does all of campus know about this damned party?!”

“Then why did you let me in?” Zack asked curiously.

Sephiroth shot him another dry look. “Because I know who you are, a little, at least. The rest of the riff-raff were from gods only knows where. I don’t know what Vincent had planned, but I’m not taking responsibility for a party and watching his house get trashed while he’s off getting high with his old frat.”

“Okay, geez, sorry,” Zack muttered when Sephiroth turned on his heel to go answer the door. Zack wandered around the living room and couldn’t resist touching the keys of a battered upright piano, leading to a barked “Don’t touch anything!” from the foyer.

Zack muttered under his breath and made a show of tucking his hands in his pockets, even though Sephiroth couldn’t see him. He heard low murmurs from the foyer and the front door shut.

He looked up as Sephiroth led someone into the living room.

It was a smaller someone, looked like a freshman, and he was completely and utterly adorable. And Zack was comfortable enough in his manliness to admit that he really wanted to cuddle the kid to his chest and croon at his cuteness.

Instead he smiled brightly and said, “Hey, there, man, how are ya?”

The kid blushed and tucked his chin into his scarf and Zack was gone. He looked up at Sephiroth who was staring at the kid with something like Zack knew he must look, lust mixed with his natural haughty allure and some confusion about his own reaction. Zack stifled a snort. Figured Sephiroth wouldn't even know what to do when the universe literally dumped a hottie right on his doorstep.

“I'm supposed to meet my friend Tifa here?” the kid was saying.

“Well, I haven't seen a Tifa around. It's just me and Seph—you know Sephiroth” and the kid turned bright, fiery red and damn, even mortally embarrassed was an adorable look on him. “I'm Zack.”

“I know. I'm Cloud,” he said, and Zack could have sworn he heard a choir of angels descend and sing hallelujah but then he fumbled at his back pocket when he recognized his cell ring.

“Hey, dude, where the hell are you? Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Zack listened with his eyes on the other two who were standing there staring at the wall and the other, respectively. Zack ended the call and said, “Well, Angeal is waiting for Genesis to finish strength training, and then they’re going over to the frat. Seems he already heard the party was moved.”

“Good,” Sephiroth said, crossing his arms over his chest. The move pulled the thin sweater tighter across his arms and shoulders, showing off the muscles in a way that was even sexier than if he’d been bare. Zack knew he was staring so he shook himself, but when he looked over at Cloud in embarrassment, the kid was staring at Sephiroth too, obviously entranced.

“Well, then. Why don’t we all head over there? I can drive.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sephiroth seemed to pull himself tighter. “I had planned a quiet evening in, and now I might finally be able to achieve it.”

“I just need to borrow a phone,” Cloud blurted out and turned even redder when both men’s attention swung to him. “Mine fell in a puddle outside the dining hall.” He held up an old flip phone, and Zack's heart melted some more. “I need to know what's going on with Tifa and where she is.”

As Zack fumbled to get his phone back out of his pocket, Sephiroth handed over his own. “Thank you,” Cloud's voice was low and Zack was sure there was some kind of spark when their hands brushed, then they each turned quickly the other way.

Zack motioned with his head for Sephiroth to follow him to give the kid some privacy. Although he’d never been there before, Zack was sure the swinging door led to the kitchen, and he was right. He began to rummage on the counters for a bottle opener, figuring Sephiroth wouldn’t appreciate his party trick of using the counter edge, when Sephiroth asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Having a drink.”

“Not if you're driving.”

“Well then come with us.”

“I am not going to a frat party.”

“So you’re just going to kick us out?”

“There is no party here, Zack, so yes. Out.”

“Well there could be. There’s you and me and Cloud,” Zack saw Sephiroth's eyes flicker to the door and he upped his persuasion tactics. “We'll have a drink, order a pizza unless you got party snacks, no, didn't think Vinnie would leave anything here.”

Sephiroth sighed but he didn’t say no outright. “Come on, Seph, there’s no reason you need to be alone tonight. You know I'm good for it,” he wheedled.

“I don't know you, only of you,” Sephiroth told him bluntly.

Zack's smile was dazzling. “Well there's no time like the present to change that. And we'll even keep Cloud here and show him a good time!”

“Huh?” Cloud said, head cocked, from the open kitchen door.

“What's up?” Zack asked him.

Cloud fiddled with his scarf and didn’t meet his eyes. “My friend was bringing me along because she wants to hook up with this big guy, Rude?”

Seph nodded, “He's in the fraternity that Vincent used to be head of.”

“Well, he called Tifa at the last minute and said the party had been moved over there, and she tried to get me, but,” Cloud gestured with his useless phone. “She said the frat house is full to bursting, so I guess I'll just walk back to campus.”

“OMG you walked all the way here? No way!”

Cloud stared at Zack’s outburst. “I never knew people actually said the letters O-M-G out loud,” he said.

Now Zack looked embarrassed and rubbed at the back of his hair. “Well, we can't all be the quiet and mysterious type like Seph here,” he said and elbowed Sephiroth into a surprised grunt.

Cloud was still a delicate pink shade as he shyly held out Sephiroth’s phone. Sephiroth was still looking down at him like the blond kid was a new and special oddity to be studied.

Zack had heard things about his hero. After all, his coach and mentor Angeal was one of Seph’s best friends. It was through him and Genesis that Zack had heard about the human side of the football star. All the intimidating, weird things that were whispered about in the locker room, Zack had never seen hints of his supposed arrogance and anti-social tendencies. Sure, he was quiet and aloof, but that just seemed to be his way, not an affectation.

Now looking at Sephiroth looking at Cloud, Zack knew what he had to do.

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” he clapped his hands and hid a laugh at the way the other two jumped. “We’re gonna order pizza, drink some beer and do something so you're not walking back to your cold, lonely dorm all by yourself on a Friday night.”

“But won’t you be missing the biggest party of the year?” Sephiroth asked him quietly.

Zack shrugged. “If it’s full-up already, then I’d probably only be missing the cops calling and a whole lot of vomiting undergrads. If I wanted that, I could have just bought beer for the freshman on the team. I think I’ll be happier hanging with you guys. So, Cloud, you in?”

Cloud smiled, and Zack almost grabbed the counter to steady himself against the sheer brilliance of the kid’s expression. A quick glance at Sephiroth showed he was moved also. But he turned without a word and grabbed a menu off the refrigerator.

“Very well, if you insist. But remember your off-season conditioning when you order,” he handed the pizza place’s menu to Zack.

Zack loudly pffted that. “It’s a Friday night in February. I’m ordering one of everything.”

“Then you’ll be running it off at the gym.”

“Now you sound exactly like Angeal,” Zack grumbled good-naturedly and Cloud hid a laugh behind his hand.

While he discussed what to order with Cloud, Sephiroth took their coats and carried glasses and bottles of water to the living room with Cloud’s help. Zack ordered at least twice what he thought they could comfortably eat, thinking he’d send the leftovers back to the dorm with Cloud.

He followed them in time to hear Cloud shyly say, “You’re the most amazing quarterback I’ve ever seen play. You’re the reason I came to Shinra.”

Zack watched Sephiroth’s face close off. Cloud, too, must have realized his mistake, but he went on to say, “I know I’m small, but I started at running back for my high school team and I couldn't wait to try out here as a walk-on, but I didn’t even make the practice team.”

Cloud’s shoulders hunched as he drew in, and Sephiroth still looked like he wanted to walk out, so Zack swept in to the rescue. He dropped down on the couch, slung his arm over Cloud’s shoulders and squeezed. “You look fast. I’ll bet you’re a great back, huh, Seph?”

There was no answer so Zack squeezed again. “You know, Cloud, I am personal best friends with two of the grad assistants, and I’ll bet, if you want, I could get Genesis to make out some special training for you. You could come to the gym with me, and who knows, by summer, you could try out again. We definitely need some players who are smart and quick. What do you think, Seph?”

Cloud looked over at him and his smile from close-range was nearly blinding. When Zack squeezed his shoulders a third time, it had nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with how adorable he was.

Cloud looked up shyly at Sephiroth who was eying him now in appraisal. “Size doesn’t always matter, if you work hard,” he said finally. “If you want to make a serious commitment to football, you could do worse than having Genesis train you.”

“I’ll work as hard as I can,” Cloud promised. Zack couldn’t resist ruffling the blond spikes of his hair, finding them softer than he expected.

“The hardest part will be figuring out how to fit all these spikes into your helmet,” he laughed, ruffling harder.

Cloud squawked and batted at him. “I didn’t have a problem in high school!”

“Zack, stop molesting him,” Sephiroth’s quiet voice was full of amusement, but Cloud froze up again.

Zack sighed and grabbed at the remote on the coffee table in front of him, still not giving up his armful of Cloud.

“Fine. Then let’s see what Vincent’s got for entertainment.” Zack kicked his feet up on the table, but Sephiroth pushed them off as he took a seat on the recliner. “Oof. Let's see what's on Netflix.”

“We are not watching porn,” Sephiroth told him and Cloud made a nose Zack would describe as a peep. Then what Sephiroth had said registered.

“Is there porn on Netflix?” he asked with some interest.

“You have to know the secret search word,” Seph said drily.

“Seriously? I never knew! Oh my god, why did nobody tell me this?!” He quickly thumbed the remote. “What the password?”

He even let go of Cloud as he leaned forward and ran through the screen punching in as Sephiroth dictated U-R-D-U-M-B...

“Hey!” Zack looked behind to see Cloud shaking in fits of silent laughter and Sephiroth actually cracking a grin so he took one for the team and made himself loudly affronted. “That’s just rude! You got me all excited and then called me dumb!”

“You asked for it,” Sephiroth said and Cloud let out a peal of laughter. Sephiroth looked like his cheeks were tinted just the slightest pink in appreciation of the positive reception of his joke.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, then I get to decide what we watch tonight!” Zack kept one eye on the two of them as he scrolled. Cloud kept sneaking peaks at Sephiroth and fiddled with a bottle of water. Sephiroth stared looking bored at the TV but he shot glances at Cloud when the kid wasn’t looking.

“Or we could just watch really random things and totally screw up Vincent’s list. They’d be suggesting he watch Sesame Street and Blue Clues for the next year,” Zack said.

“That’s mean,” Cloud blurted out.

“But funny,” Zack waggled his eyebrows. Cloud rolled his eyes. Zack beamed to see that kid was already coming out of his shell.

By the time the pizzas, wings, bread and everything else had arrived, Cloud had even carefully and successfully teased Zack once. At Sephiroth’s nod of approval, he beamed.

But there was something about sharing hot, delicious, greasy food and—for him and Sephiroth—some beers that got people to open up and have fun. Cloud came more out of his shell at Zack’s gentle prodding and showed a streak of feistiness that Zack would be sure to pursue when they were training. Sephiroth even deigned to show the droll sense of humor that Angeal had assured Zack actually existed.

They watched parts of a couple terrible movies and a few favorite episodes of sitcoms that Vincent had saved. At some point, Sephiroth had joined them on the couch so he wouldn’t have to strain his neck.

It was late when Zack realized Cloud had fallen asleep tucked between, his chin resting down to his chest in a way that would make his neck cramp later. Zack smiled at Sephiroth over his head and saw him looking down at the freshman.

“It's hard,” Sephiroth said softly.

Zack’s eyes widened as his mind went right to— “Eh?!”

“The hero worship,” Seph clarified and Zack was relieved. “I don't think you ever felt it, or at least, you never let on that you were intimidated by me. But it's hard to get to know people. They want the idol, not the real deal.”

“Well, I have to say that now I know you and I still love you,” Zack said.

Seph smiled a sincere little grin. “I guess that's why I didn’t actually mind spending time with you.”

Zack mimed grabbing his heart. “Please, stop, that's enough of the sweet talk. The next thing you know you'll be picking out china patterns and curtains.”

“I'm just saying, tonight wasn't all terrible.”

“You want to do it again.”

Sephiroth looked down and sighed. “I do. But...”

“No buts, you've said I do, you just committed yourself,” Zack said cheerfully.

“There's three of us,” Sephiroth pointed out.

“That means there's just more to love. Now I have someone to fanboy over you with.”

“And someone to commiserate with me when you get out of control.”

“Let's do it again,” Zack pushed and Seph sighed again.

“Okay.”

“If this sappy rom-com is over, can you please either shut up or take me home?” Cloud asked grumpily as he tried to roll his neck and winced in pain.

Zack leaned close and talked into his ear, making him shiver. “So you wanna do this again?”

A brilliant blue eye opened and he said with no hesitation. “Yes.” Then he shoved a hand in Zack’s face as he made exaggerated kissy lips and leaned over. “No.”

“Good boy, Cloud,” Sephiroth said softly. “Don’t let him push you around.”

“I’m not doing anything tomorrow night,” Cloud said then swallowed hard at his own rare confidence.

“I’m free,” Sephiroth said and Zack grinned.

“Let’s go out and splurge because Cloud and I are going to start training Sunday.”

“Really?” Cloud’s face lit up and Zack really wanted to lean in for real but he held back.

“For sure. We’ll get you on the team, won’t we, Seph?”

Sephiroth inclined a nod.

Zack was sure it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

AND ANOTHER WORTHLESS FICLET The Prompt: “i’m your waitress and i totally thought you two were dating because of the heart eyes you’re makingat each other but now that i know you’re not i kinda want to ask one of you out but i also feel like you should be together because of said hearteyes” au Cloud/Sephiroth/Zack

Sephiroth knew he was called the surly waiter and he couldn’t have cared less. The other servers bitched behind his back because he was a terrible waiter who still got good tips because he was, as one disgusted co-worker often said, so damn pretty.

He didn’t really understand it, and totally didn’t care, but hey, whatever, money bought him what he needed.

But it got really annoying that obnoxious diners were always commenting on his hair. He always wore it tightly wrapped in a high bun, wisps sometimes falling out around his face. But it still drew unwelcome attention.

And he got so sick of the little comments he had to ignore if he wanted to keep his tips and his job.

Like the grinning fool at one of his tables today. The dark-haired dude was eating a late lunch with a smaller blond kid that Sephiroth had taken for younger until he’d heard his voice. He figured they were doing that whole “two bros, no homo” thing, but from the way the blond looked at the dark-haired one and laughed at his stupid jokes, Sephiroth knew that at least he wasn’t thinking that.

He dropped two salads on a table for some women and walked over to offer the blond kid more water.

The dark-haired dude brightened and smiled up at him. “Your hair is beautiful; is it really long?” Sephiroth nearly rolled his eyes. Like he’d never heard that before.

“Are you ready to order now?” he said instead.

“So what’s good here,” the dude’s bright blue eyes were going up and down him instead of the menu. Like he’d never heard that one either.

“Maybe you should try your friend here,”  Sephiroth pointed his pen at the blond who turned bright red and sank behind his menu.

The dark-haired dude’s entire body turned, not just his head. “We’re work buddies, I’m teaching him the ropes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Anyone can see that kid has a crush on you.” The blond looked like he was one second from sinking under the table, never to be seen again.

“No way! ...wait, really? What? Cloud?” Dark-haired dude’s head swiveled from the blond—or all that was visible being a blond spike above the menu—up to Sephiroth. His bewildered expression was kind of cute, Sephiroth decided, even if it made him looked like a confused black Labrador retriever trying to figure out why he’d never thrown the ball.

“I was going to ask you out,” the dude admitted to Sephiroth.

He snorted. “You should ask him out.”

“I AM out with him. Well, sorta. Why don’t we all go out?”

“Like that wouldn’t be uncomfortable and awkward,” Sephiroth rolled his eyes.

“This entire situation is uncomfortable and awkward,” Cloud muttered loud enough for both to hear. Sephiroth let out an unexpected chuckle and Cloud glanced up. His face was such bright red Sephiroth could have probably boiled water on it.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that. I was just trying to call out him—”

“Zack,” dude supplied helpfully.

“Call out Zack because if I had a dollar for every time someone hit on me when I was working and couldn’t tell them what I really thought, well, I’d have enough money to be able to quit here.”

That was the longest rant Sephiroth had ever verbalized. It felt strangely good. He’d needed to get that off his chest.

Then he looked down into two pairs of beautiful, big, earnest blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Zack said. “I didn’t mean to be all skeevy. That was wrong and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m sorry you have to put up with that,” Cloud added.

“I just think you’re one of the most gorgeous people I’ve ever seen,” Zack went on. “But I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Sephiroth sighed. “It’s not...unappreciated. It’s just not the time or place.”

“I understand. Do you want us to leave?”

“No,” Sephiroth shook his head. “Stay and eat. And then if you want to hang out some time, maybe leave your number. But no promises.”

“That’s more than fair.” Zack looked at Cloud then and smiled. “Do you know what you want?”

“Yes,” Cloud answered and Sephiroth knew he was talking about more than what he wanted for lunch.

“If we’re going to go out, we should do it together. All three of us.” Sephiroth couldn’t regret speaking his mind again when Cloud lit up and Zack got a speculative gleam.

“I’d like that,” Zack said and Cloud nodded.

“Then hurry up and order. The sooner you’re done, the sooner I can get out of here.”

Zack and Cloud shared a look and a smile. Both were suddenly starving.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

How I think P3D should go down pt 2.

(Pt 1) Woooooow 2 months later and you’re gonna continue finally? Yes (blame my hard drive for it, tho tbh I only got a paragraph in 8U). So yeah, onto the long summary. 8U

Ok, so just like P4D, this scene takes place at some point in pt 1 or 2 posts (can’t remember when I had it planned, either for this post or I forgot for the last post so yeah 8U). We are greeted with Liz by herself, in an area we don’t recognize. She seems to be talking to us, the player (just like Margaret from P4D). She claims that she got into contact with her sister and/or brother. They state that they had a new guest show up, but they refused to sign a contract (paralleling Sho), but was asked why by Theo. The New Guest responded stating that bonds do nothing but hurt them so why would they sign into a contract to make bonds. (basically it’s different from Sho rejecting bonds all together cause he views it as weak, and Kanami attempting to force bonds, this person rejects it solely because it’s “bad for/hurts them.” Yeah yeah bonds are more of a P4 thing, but P3 has SLs so bonds were important there too 8U P4’s just more in yo face about it. ) Scene ends.

 Anyway, so chapter 2 begins with the SOs all gathered together. They proceed to debrief on the matter. The similar shadow reading that they were getting wasn’t only similar to the P4D incident, but also the Dark Hour incident as well. It feels like something is trying to connect with their world yet again (similar to P4D), but it seems to be using the DH as a way to do things (hint hint this is the odd phenomenon is what happened to Ni at the end of Part 1). A few of the SOs then ask when were the DH occurrences because they didn’t even notice it. Mitsuru explains that they are brief, most not even lasting a minute (some so fast you could blink and miss it), and at odd times such that it doesn’t even occur at Midnight; so most of them could be asleep when they happen. Mitsuru deduces that this unstable DH is possibly because of an outside force attempting to get in touch with their world (aka a god coming in to wreck the place again, and no that’s not a spoiler for later it’s just a fact at this point in this series c’mon 8U) Junpei asks the location of which the incidents are coming from, and Mitsuru responds saying it’s a sea-side city. Junpei gets excited asking if they have a beach and that they should go there. Mitsuru shoots him down stating that the city is very big and that there will probably not be enough time. (concerning the size of the city, this is probably where they bring up asking Yu, Naoto, and Rise for help to help cover ground, as again if anyone would be in the area it’d probably be them). With this the debriefing ends with them leaving for the (unnamed) city.

 The next scene transitions over to Ni again. It opens with another dance song (attempting to fit songs in here because otherwise it’d be a loooooooong while before we get to dance battles), it turns out she was showing off a new dance choreography that she was assigned to make for some idols. The people who hired her to make it state they are pleased with her work and she leaves. We then get a montage of Ni running around doing various things in the studio (very inter like stuff tbh). Every so often we see her run past a group of idols (who are none other than Rise and Kanamin’s Kitchen). At one point we see Ni stopping to overhear their conversation that’s about her:

Kanami: WOAH WOAH WOAH! So fast! Rise: That girl is really booking it! Tomoe: She’s been running around all day…. Nozomi: She must have amazing stamina. Sumomo: I saw her showing off some dance choreography earlier. But now she’s….doing a coffee run? Tamami: Oh, yeah, my dad/uncle/older brother/cousin told me about her. She’s kind of the all purpose person around here or something. Her main job is a dance instructor, but if you need something she’ll gladly do it with a smile. Even coffee or food runs. She’s a valued employee but they treat her like some noob intern. They don’t even call her by her real name….just some nickname. Sumomo: What? Really? What’s her real name then? Tamami: I….actually don’t know either…. Rise: Arg? This totally not fair for her! Tamami: Yeah I think so too, with all the work I hear that they give her you’d think she’d be tired…. But her appearance says otherwise so I guess it’s ok….. *somber* Anyway, it’s not like you have a choice with this industry. Rest of the group: *unhappily* Yeah…. Kanami: Oh! W-we better get back or Ms. Ochimizu will have our butts! *the girls run off*

Ni, neutral expression: *watches the group leave* Ni: *shadow casts over her eyes* Heh….it’s not just this place that’s unfair….. Ni: *then leaves, continuing onto whatever errand she was in the process of doing*

Scene ends (“Hey Silly what was with the ‘dad/uncle/older brother/cousin’ thing?” Hint hint it’s part of the hints, 2nd hint hint look at her last name 8U)

The next scene starts up taking place a few hours later, from Ni’s perspective again. Coach approaches Ni:

Coach: Phew, long day? Ni: Haha you said it. Coach: Man I can’t believe they still make you do all that stuff, you’re not just some part-time high school student anymore! Do you want me to talk to some of those guys to hire some lackey so you can have more time to yourself? Ni: Nah it’s ok, it makes me feel useful. Coach: Hmmm ok, but you seem down…. Oh! Is it because you haven’t gotten your acceptance letter yet? Ni: *orz* Coach: Ahhh….so that’s it. Ni: *pouting and fuming comically* They’re so late too! I know I passed the exam with top marks too, so they should just let me in already! Coach: That big time law firm right? Well I’m sure you’ll get in, third times the charm as they say! Ni: *orz* Why do you have to remind me? ;w; I-it’s not like I failed the past two times, they just won’t let me in. I-it must be the quota thing…y-yeah that it’s it! ;w; Coach: Haha I don’t know why you’re so intent on getting into a law firm so fast, just enjoy the rest of your undergrad years and ace your graduate years and you should be good to go when it comes to getting into that law firm. Ni: *suddenly really serious, her eyes are casted in shadows* Yeah but….I want to…get in there as soon as possible… Coach: Oh so serious…. May I ask what it is? Ni: *still serious*….because I want to…. *suddenly super chipper* TO MAKE SERIOUS BANK OF COURSE! ;D Coach: Woah! O_O Ni: And they’re SOOOOOOO COOOL TOO! Like, making serious dough and looking cool while doing it? Who wouldn’t want that? ;D Coach: Haha dreaming big still I see. Well I guess you are still that kid I met all those years ago. You better be careful, being a lawyer is a stressful job you might get grey hairs! Haha but then again, grey hair with red eyes might be a good look on a lawyer! Ni: *sarcastic* Ahaha yeah I’ll keep that in mind. Coach: Welp I better get going, don’t push yourself too hard mmmkay? Ni: Yup I’ll see you later. *leaves for home herself*

*scene transition back at Ni’s place* *flash back to Coach saying*” Haha I don’t know why you’re so intent on getting into a law firm so fast” Ni: *eyes covered in shadow and ominous* Because I don’t know how much more time I’ll have….. Ni: *looks at USB drive that’s by her computer* Ni: *with a serious face goes and boots up her computer and plugs the UBS drive in*

 End Pt 2

(So yeah it’s getting darker. 8U And yes that was a Sae reference, tho that wasn’t planned 2 years ago but might as well throw it in there. 8U I had to ask my roommate about how people go about becoming a lawyer in Japan. Looks like you can study about 4 years of undergrad pre-law and then take 2 years of graduate law, or 3 years of grad law if you don’t do undergrad pre-law, before you can go into a law firm to get hands on experience. Or you can take a very, VERY hard test right whenever and get into the law firm. Ni has been attempting the latter. She attempted in her 3rd year of high school so that she could go straight into the law firm when she got out of high school. As she hinted above she passed but they didn’t take her, so she’s doing the undergrad pre-law as a backup route while still attempting the exam route. As for quota, before I asked for help there seemed to be a quota some places use, even if you pass they might not accept you or something….. Let’s just say law in Japan really confuses me. ;w; But we only need to know the beginning basics so don’t worry cause I’m not. 8U

“Hey Silly, I’ve been wondering why are you telling us these “hints” we aren’t stupid we can follow along!” I know I just like to make sure we’re all on the same page ;w;)

(also sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors, I’m typing this while half awake at times and I’m trying to finish this thing before the 26th so yeah. ;w;)

pt 3

[fraudulence-paradox]

01/19/21

Well, let’s get this out of the way: “jeez, I haven’t updated this thing in months”, “I’m still dating A------”, “there’s still a pandemic, but now there’s a vaccine—but I won’t get it for another few months because I’m young and ‘healthy’”. What else… the president was impeached… again. Now that I’m living near D.C., it’s much easier to be a primary source for the shenanigans going on there—not that I’ve ever been to a protest or anything. The most “primary source” thing I can document here, in case those ever present “future historians” I keep writing about are reading this, is that on 01/06/21 I saw on the news that there was a big protest going on in D.C. I watched Trump’s speech as it was happening prior to the events that unfolded, then got to work (it was about 1:00 on a work day after all, I had to roll out of bed at some point to put in some hours working from home). I went downstairs for breakfast after showering and so forth, and asked my roommate who was on his lunch break if he heard about the Trump speech and the growing crowd in D.C. He said he had and asked if I’d heard that they’d gotten into the capitol.

Clearly, I hadn’t. It was pretty wild to say the least. When talking to A----- about it, she compared it to another 9/11. When talking to my more right-wing roommates about it, it was a crazy thing that happened and was treated more as a big joke. Personally, I don’t think it was quite on the scale of 9/11, but I also don’t think it’s a laughing matter. I mean, people protesting the results of an election broke into the capitol and just trounced around, meandering from room to room, with little to no police intervention. It was definitely surreal, definitely unsettling, but I dunno, in some ways so insane it was kind of silly. It was just bizarre. Again, I’m not a primary source about any of this, other than the one, very minor thing I saw.

See, we live a few hundred feet from interstate 395: the road connecting northern Virginia to D.C. So, in addition to learning to sleep through a lot of sirens and traffic noises, I can see who’s driving down the road from my bedroom window. And on that day, around 3:00, I personally saw a fucking caravan of something like 50 Virginia state police cars barreling straight toward the city. I later learned that Ralph Northam (the governor of VA) authorized the cops from my state to drive in, but damn if it wasn’t wild to witness. Other than that, and a lot of helicopter sounds, I have little to report that can’t be found on any news site.

Anyway, let’s put some other updates in here. Let’s see.. I already said the pandemic is still happening, which sucks. My mom is at least getting the vaccine because she’s a teacher. A------’s parents are getting it because they both have “prior conditions”—her mom’s are legit, but her dad’s are a little dubious; he has asthma, which I could have sworn the CDC said wasn’t a huge deal for COVID, but whatever. I’m happy they can get it. I’m just a touch jealous. A------ and I are stuck indoors for the foreseeable future, which is a little annoying, but it’s been going on for basically a year at this point, so we’re used to it. My roommates are being kind of irresponsible in my view, but so far, they’ve both been fine. I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. I mean, neither of them are going out to restaurants; neither of them are “anti-maskers”.[1] Oh well.

In my personal life, it looks like the last time I updated this, I talked about a paper I submitted to PNAS. It was rejected. Then it was rejected from (in order) IEEE Access, KDE, and probably (still pending) IEEE Transactions on Knowledge and Data Engineering. We shall see. It’ll probably be rejected though. Classes are still fully virtual, that is to say we use webcams to attend lectures which are recorded in real time from professors' houses so no one has to be in the same room. I have to take the preliminary exam next month, in almost 30 days exactly, actually, which is stressing me out pretty severely. In order to take it, I have to get a clean COVID test, then go in, in-person and take it. If that wasn’t enough to stress me out, I have to pass it too! Yeah, yeah, that’s how tests work, but damn. I’ve really only been in real grad school for half a semester. Most of the time I was taking classes virtually. I mean, I haven’t even taken a final exam since my undergrad, which, at this point, was more than a year ago. I’ve been half-assing my classes, because you really don’t need to learn to pass virtually, but now… well let’s just say the day of reckoning has come.

So, yeah. That’s about it from me. Taking a test in a month, pandemic is still raging, president may have attempted a coup, pretty slow six months.

[1] future historians, during the pandemic of 2020-21(?) there was a certain sect of brain-dead individuals who refused to wear masks. The reasons they cited are a bit unclear to me, but I’ll do my best to represent them. Something like “being forced to wear a mask violates my liberty”, “masks are unhealthy” (no clue on that one), “wearing a mask is the sign of the beast” (I dunno, something about how in the book of Revelations in the bible, there was a passage about “the mark of the beast”—that is the way the antichrist would be identified—being a mark on the forehead. Not sure how that got transferred to facemasks, but whatever). Uhh.. there’s probably other reasons, but I really don’t know them. It mostly comes down to being pissed off that they have to do something mildly inconvenient. May history look poorly upon them

[mikemortgage]

William Watson: Spoiled rich kids are giving Ivy League elitism a bad name

After Lori Loughlin was implicated in the U.S. university bribery scandal, The Hallmark Channel announced it was immediately cutting ties with the actress and shuttering all projects she was working on, including several shot in Vancouver. Which makes you wonder: Has the prime minister’s office called the U.S. Justice Department to ask them to go easier on Loughlin, given the job losses her prosecution will cause in B.C.?

Just kidding.

This latest episode of lifestyles of the rich and unscrupulous is giving plutocrats a bad name — which the rest of us rather enjoy. But it’s hard on the universities that were scammed, not just because it looks like they weren’t paying attention, but also because people are concluding that the schools have become country clubs for America’s self-appointed natural governing elite: One way or another, through gifts, through expensive résumé-building or through bribes, rich parents purchase their kids’ admission.

William Watson: Poverty keeps dropping, but politicians still want to punish the rich

William Watson: U.S. health care has problems. Still… Free drugs! No waiting!

William Watson: Wrong again, pessimists. Children still aren’t doing worse than their parents

In fact, it’s a little more complex than that.

I was a graduate student at Yale, one of the schools allegedly targeted by the scammers in the “Operation Varsity Blues” FBI investigation Loughlin is caught up in. My first weekend at Yale, I went for a walk around campus. In the grassy courtyard of one of the undergraduate colleges some students were playing touch football, as I and my friends often did on sunny September Saturdays. Like us, they had a six-pack waiting on the sidelines. But theirs wasn’t a six-pack of Budweiser or Schlitz. It was a six-pack of Johnny Walker Red. I didn’t know such a thing existed. We’re not in suburban Montreal anymore, Toto, I thought.

Yes, it’s true: Ivy isn’t the only green blanketing these campuses. They’re also lathered in money. Harvard’s endowment is US$39.4 billion; Yale’s is US$29.4 billion. By contrast, McGill’s is $1.65 billion (Canadian) and the University of Toronto’s is $2.5 billion. So the Ivies are very rich. But in my experience, they’re not country clubs.

As a graduate teaching assistant, I found Yale students to be generally whip smart. The one exception I recall was a football player, a lineman. He was very nice and came to the review sessions religiously, but I found myself hoping he understood blocking assignments better than he understood macroeconomics, because he didn’t get macro at all.

Yale was networking heaven. (One grad student I met was from Chicago and had the same last name as a fundraiser who figured prominently in a biography of Adlai Stevenson I happened to be reading. I asked him about it: It was his grandfather. Or uncle. I can’t remember exactly.) In Economics, there were generally three seminars a week. All sorts of people from Washington and Wall Street came through, as well as top economists from everywhere.

A Yale prof won the Nobel Prize the year I got there (econometrician Tjalling Koopmans) and two others that were then on staff (James Tobin and William Nordhaus) would go on to win it later. On Wikipedia’s list of most Nobel Prizes since 2000, Yale is tied for fifth (with Cambridge). Stanford, which was also scammed in the Varsity Blues scandal, is tied for third (with the University of California at Berkeley). Stanford and Berkeley have 36 Nobels each since 2000, Yale and Cambridge, 30 each. Since 2000 Canada, the country, has six. Since 1901 we have 26 in total, including three in Economics: Robert Mundell (1999), Myron Scholes (1997) and William Vickrey (1996). At the time of their awards they were teaching at Columbia, Stanford, and Columbia, respectively.

My anecdotes of Yale are more than 40 years old. But elite U.S. schools still lead the world. One of the best-known rankings in economics puts seven U.S. departments in the world top 10. The foreign interlopers are Paris, Oxford and Toulouse. The top Canadian department is UBC, which is 27th. Toronto is 34th, Queen’s 36th.

The intellectual fecundity I’m describing is probably of greater interest to profs and graduate students. But for these schools’ undergrads there’s a new cornucopia of interesting events every week. For this coming Friday, Harvard’s daily calendar lists 21 events, from an exhibition on Emerson to a new offbeat indie film. Of course, if you’re a student only because of your fake-rowing, you won’t have the intellectual hunger this feast will satisfy.

Here’s the paradox. The money so obviously evident as you walk around these elite campuses — at least some of it donated in hopes of getting family members admitted — is nevertheless supporting the world’s most active, excellent and important intellectual centres.

The political mood is rabidly egalitarian. No doubt as a result of the Varsity Blues scandal, some Democratic presidential candidates will propose greater government oversight of these world-leading institutions (as if no government overseer could ever be bribed). We in Canada have lots of experience with egalitarian oversight. If the government had $X billion to spend on university excellence, would that money go to two or three truly excellent institutions or would it be spread thinly across all 96 of our universities?

You don’t have to score 1600 on the SAT to know the answer to that one.

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