#but sometimes people from other shifts overlap into mine

[theprongspotter]

Popular - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 14 - 902 words



Regulus sits in the nearly empty common room with a frown. He’s lost in his thoughts, the chaos of the day swirling around him, when Barty plops down beside him with a dramatic sigh.

“Seriously, Reg,” Barty says, nudging him with an elbow, “you’ve been brooding for days. What’s going on?”

Regulus glances at Barty, his expression a mix of frustration and anxiety. “It’s nothing,” he mutters, staring at the ground. “Just... things.”

Barty raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. And ‘things’ just happen to make you look like you’re about to face Voldemort himself.”

Regulus gave a small, humorless laugh. “It’s just... James,” he said, the name slipping out more easily than he intended. “He’s been around a lot lately, and I don’t know what to make of it.”

Barty’s eyes light up with interest and Evan walks over to the sofa to join their conversation. Regulus suspects that they can communicate telepathically. “Ah, trouble in paradise.”

Regulus shifts. uncomfortably. “It’s not like that. We just... talk sometimes. And he’s nice, but it’s not supposed to be anything more than that.”

Dorcas leans back on the sofa beside him, her grin widening. Pandora moves to hover around the group of friends. “Sure, sure. But you’re not exactly hiding your feelings well. I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think no one’s watching.”

Regulus’ cheeks flushes slightly, but he quickly tries to cover it with a scowl. “It’s complicated. I’m just not... I’m not like him. He’s got his world, and I’ve got mine. And right now, they don’t exactly overlap.”

Barty chuckles, clearly amused. “Oh, come on, Reg. You’re making it sound like one of those muggle soap opera things. It’s not that complicated.”

Regulus shot him a sharp look. “You wouldn’t say that if you were in my shoes. It’s easy to be all casual when you’re not the one risking rejection or feeling like you don’t belong.”

Pandora shrugs nonchalantly. “Maybe. But that’s why I’m here—to give you a push. I know you’re scared, but sometimes the best things come from taking a leap, not from hiding behind ‘it’s complicated.’”

Regulus sighed heavily, looking out over the courtyard as if searching for answers in the bustling crowd. “I don’t know, Panda. I just don’t want to mess things up or make things weird.”

"You don’t understand,” Regulus sighs, his fingers massaging his temples. Barty never listens. None of his friends do. “It’s not like one of those stupid romance books where the popular jock and the insignificant nerd fall in love with each other.”

Barty grins and slaps Regulus’ back, earning himself a glare. “I think he likes Evans, still. But, I’m finally glad to see that you’re accepting your fate as a nerd.”

Evan elbows him sharply in his gut. “I think there could be a romantic ending.”

Regulus scowls, shrugging off Barty's hand with an irritated huff. "I'm not a nerd," he mutters, crossing his arms defensively. "And this isn't some ridiculous fantasy where everything works out perfectly in the end."

Evan chuckles, leaning casually against the wall. "Oh, come on, Reg. You’re overthinking this. Potter is... well, he’s Potter. Everyone likes him. Hell, I like him, and I barely like anyone. But maybe you’re just overcomplicating something that could be simple."

Regulus shakes his head, staring down at the floor as if it holds the answers he’s looking for. “You don’t get it. He’s out there, surrounded by people who actually matter. People who belong in his world. I’m just... I’m just some guy who happens to share a few classes with him. It’s not the same.”

Evan’S grin softens into something more genuine. He steps closer, his voice lowering. “Maybe you’re not giving yourself enough credit. Or him, for that matter. Have you ever thought that maybe he sees something in you that all those so-called important people don’t? That maybe you’re more than just ‘some guy’ to him?”

Regulus bites his lip, his mind replaying every fleeting glance, every small smile James had thrown his way. It felt impossible, like a dream he’d never dare admit aloud. But here was Barty, pushing him to face the possibility that maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t all in his head.

“What if it’s just... nothing?” Regulus murmurs, his voice betraying the uncertainty he’s trying so hard to hide. “What if I’m wrong?”

Evan shrugs. “Then you move on. But what if you’re not wrong? What if you’re the one who actually matters to him? You won’t know until you stop hiding behind these excuses and find out.”

Regulus meets Pandora’s gaze now, something uncertain yet hopeful flickering in his eyes. “And what if it all falls apart?”

Pandora’s expression softens again, his tone uncharacteristically sincere. “Then we’ll all be here to help you pick up the pieces. But I have a feeling you’re stronger than you think, Reg. Maybe it’s time to see where this leads.”

Regulus sighs, feeling the weight of his friends’ words sink in. For once, he wasn’t going to let fear dictate his choices.

Taking a deep breath, he straightens up, a newfound resolve settling in his chest. “Alright,” he says quietly. “Maybe it’s time I stopped overthinking everything.”

Barty grins, slapping him on the back again, this time with a little more affection. “That’s the spirit, Reg. Now go get your jock.”

Regulus flips him off as he exits the dorm.

[shaunamilfman]

Vampire!Jackie Drabble

Summary: "You meet Jackie for the first time as she's unsuccessfully trying to blot out a suspicious red stain with a napkin."

A/N: girlfailure vampire Jackie who can't hunt. 🥰

nsfw mention

You meet Jackie Taylor for the first time as she frets over the state of her shirt in the bathroom. She's unsuccessfully trying to blot out a suspicious red stain with a napkin. You looked curiously at her after you finished washing your hands and asked, "What's wrong?". She glanced up, the frustration evident on her face. 

"Oh, I just got some red wine all over my shirt." She lied unconvincingly. You hesitated for a moment because you definitely thought it was blood, but it was midterms and you were delirious enough from lack of sleep that you decided not to question it. 

You shrugged your bag off of one shoulder to riffle through the pockets. She watched you curiously as you reached into your bag and gingerly handed her a tide pen. Her face lights up as she starts immediately blotting at the stain. "Thanks!" She said cheerfully, and you waved her off as you left the bathroom.

… 

It's a few days later as you're working the night shift at a coffee shop. You weren't sure what the point of a 24/7 coffee shop was, but it pays the bills and doesn't overlap with classes. You're bent down fiddling with a bag of coffee beans trying to look busy when you hear the soft sounds of someone clearing their throat. You reluctantly stand up and look towards the counter when you see her again. 

You eye her curiously as you almost never actually get customers beyond your regulars this late. Her face lights up as she sees you and you can't quite quell the way you smile in response. She excitedly holds up one finger as she starts rummaging through her purse. She pulls out your tide pen and you tentatively lay out a hand for it. 

"You could have kept it." You say honestly, "I have more. I wasn't looking for it." She grins softly at you. 

"I could've?" She asks. She raises her hand back up. "Give it back then." She says teasingly. You shake your head playfully as you drop it in your apron pocket.

"Nope," You say. "It's mine now." She scoffs but the smile doesn't leave her face. 

… 

She shows up regularly after that to talk to you. There's rarely more than three people in here at a time this late: it's why you chose this shift in the first place, as it gave you plenty of time to catch up on assignments behind the counter. 

That's why you're pretty surprised when you realize that you aren't all that upset about her monopolizing your time. There's something about her that's so magnetizing. You spend more time thinking about her than you're comfortable admitting. She's even started to invade your dreams. 

You keep dreaming of her smile. You figure she must be self conscious of it because she's started to cover her mouth with her hand sometimes when she starts to laugh. You aren't sure what changed, but you desperately wish she wouldn't. You wonder if her teeth would feel as sharp as they looked. 

You're starting to get pretty worried about her, actually. She's been acting weirder in other ways as well. Every time she comes in she looks a little paler, a little weaker. You're worried enough that you start offering her food on the house, which you've never done for anyone before. She would just shake her head fondly and start talking about one of her classes.

One night you get the courage to ask her if you can kiss her. Her face lights up and she leans forward to kiss you. You can’t help but notice how sharp some of her teeth are, but you get distracted too quickly to think much of it.

… 

It's been a few days since the last time she came in, and you're admittedly very worried about her. You keep hanging around the building you initially met her in, but it must have been a one off because you never seem to run into her. 

You're walking home after your shift when you hear the clang of a trash can lid but the ground. You look over and can't help but scoff as you see her seemingly making out with some girl in an alleyway. This is what she was so busy with? You think angrily. Your righteous indignation fades away quickly when you hear her curse as she pulls away. 

"Damn it." She complains, "Not again." You watch with wide eyes at the blood spurting out from the other girl's neck soaks Jackie. You can see the streetlight glinting off of her… Teeth? Fangs? You wonder. 

Jackie stands there pouting, covered in blood looking like a wet dog. She crosses her arms moodily staring at the corpse on the ground as she makes an annoyed whining noise. 

You almost trip as you start hurriedly stepping backwards. She looks up and finally seems to realize you're there. She steps towards you but stops at your look of terror. She gives you a desperate look as she tries to explain but you take off running down the street to your apartment. 

… 

You're standing in the middle of your room trying to calm yourself down, which isn't helped by the loud knocks from your balcony door. You look over to see her unmistakable figure silhouetted against the curtain. “Let me in Y/N. I can explain.” She says. You laugh wryly. 

"You never wanted to be my friend! You were just trying to eat me!" You accuse. She scoffs, looking offended. 

"Just because I'm a vampire that means I had to be trying to eat you? That's speciesist." She says indignantly. 

"Speciesist." You repeat slowly in disbelief. 

"Yep," She confirms. "That's what I said." Nope. You think, and lay on your bed to go to sleep.

You groan as you hold your pillow tighter over your ears. “I know you can hear me!” She whines from your balcony. She’s been pleading with you for hours to invite her into your apartment to talk about it. 

Your initial fear from finding out she’s a vampire has long since faded the longer she begged as it reminded you how absolutely pitiful she could be. You have found, however, that your jealousy still hasn't faded in the slightest. Perhaps it was a little ridiculous, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous that she would bite someone else when she could have asked you.

You finally get out of bed and throw the balcony door open. She stands just outside the doorway watching you carefully. “Why her?” You ask sharply. She sends you a curious look. 

"Who?" She asks. 

"The girl. In the alleyway." You say slowly. She shrugs. 

"I don't know her name. She was just there." She says. "I'm not very good at hunting." She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “It gets messy when they fight, as you've probably guessed." She gestures vaguely at all of her. 

She sighs loudly and looks embarrassed as she admits, "I usually pay someone to let me feed from them but she went abroad this semester."

You soften slightly and ask teasingly, "Is that why you looked like shit recently?" She looks offended but ultimately nods.

You stare at her for a few moments out of sheer disbelief before surging forward to kiss her in the doorway. She reciprocates happily, you can feel the corners of her mouth lifting in a grin. You make her promise not to drink from anyone else before you’ll invite her in.

… 

"And you're not going to bite too hard?" You ask pointedly. She sighs dramatically and holds out her pinky. You reach up to link your pinkies together. 

"One time and you never get over it." She whines. You scoff. 

"I looked like I got mauled by a bear." You retort. She preens at the perceived compliment and you roll your eyes. "Yeah, you're a mighty hunter, I get it." You tease. She maturely chooses to stick her tongue out at you. 

You laugh quietly, gathering her hair into your hand and wrapping it around your first. "Okay, Baby." You say, leading her towards your neck. She lunges forward the second the words leave your mouth, but groans painfully as she tugs hard on her own hair. 

She looks pitiful as you give her a warning glance. She avoids your eyes as she stares hungrily at your neck. "Last chance," You say. She nods and chooses not to fight against your grip this time as you lead her head towards your neck once again. 

She releases a pleased sounding whine the second her teeth slip into your neck. You rut down hard against her lap out of instinct and Jackie's hands move up to rest lightly on your hips, pulling you gently against her.

You can feel the way the cords of muscle flex beneath her skin like steel wires. Jackie's the most powerful being you've ever met. And you’ve got her wrapped around your finger.

[denimbex1986]

'Boppenheimer. Oppenbarbie. Whatever you’re calling the double-bill of the century, wherein Christopher Nolan’s scorching epic Oppenheimer and Greta Gerwig’s kitsch masterpiece Barbie are both released on Friday 21 July, you have to admit that the cultural moment is fast amounting to more than the sum of its parts.

After sustained giggling on social media about the incongruously shared release date – are you team Pink or team Black? Is it better to see Barbie or Oppenheimer first (obviously it goes Oppenheimer, then Barbie for dessert, are you mad)? – it turns out that, for many filmophiles, the idea of watching one right after the other was more than just a joke. Sometimes art imitates life – and sometimes, as with the Boppenheimer memes, life imitates art.

Following the announcement from AMC that 20,000 people have already secured tickets for both of the summer’s biggest blockbusters on the same day, it seems that the British public is not just ready but begging for the emotional whiplash that only chain-smoking Cillian Murphy and Saccarine-sweet Margot Robbie can deliver. I for one can hardly wait; and after the few years we’ve had, is it any wonder that this most atonal of chords – ultimate desolation versus peppy plastic – is resonating so profoundly?

In a simpler time, the distinctions between Barbie and Oppenheimer – their aesthetics, their world views – would have made such audience overlap unthinkable. But this is the UK in 2023, where nothing is straightforward – least of all anything so complicated as feelings. I can’t be the only one yo-yoing between elation and devastation depending on what headline I’m looking at. On one hand, we’re post-pandemic, but mid-cost of living crisis on the other; we’re 13 years into a Tory government and knee-deep in Brexit, but at least Trump’s gone; this month delivered the two hottest days of the planet on record, but, you know, at least it’s summer…?

As you can see, it’s hard to know where to let your emotional dial rest; there’s plenty to be downcast about, and yet, after being locked inside for two years, a distinct sense that life’s too short to waste it crying. Faced with such a stark binary, what’s a girl to do? A middle ground feels impossible – instead, may I interest you in, um, everything at once?

First up, a hedonist sugar-rush of blaring pink, Barbie promises a bingo-board of zeitgeisty Gen-Z nihilism and brilliant shoes. When I was teenager, there was nothing less cool than the hyper-femininity Barbie embodied; the highest (and looking back, the most back-handed) compliment me and my classmates could be paid was “you’re not like other girls”. While we’ve got plenty of room left to grow, recent years have seen that sentiment shift. From 2022’s TikTok bimbo-core moment, celebrating superficial glossiness and its power to paper over a niggling sense of powerlessness, to the long overdue reappraisal of history’s most underestimated it-girls, unapologetic pink was having a moment even before the Barbie film was announced last year. Perhaps softness, femininity, even – whisper it – pink itself, isn’t so bad after all? And when the world’s on fire, what’s the harm in enjoying something sparkly?

On the polar-opposite end of the spectrum is Oppenheimer. At three hours long, Christopher Nolan’s harrowing marathon promises anything but escapism, instead scrutinising the origins of the atomic bomb and mining the conscience of the man who helped to develop it. We’re talking darkest-heart-of-humanity, greatest-tragedies-of-all-time, we’re talking devastation and depravity, the kind of misguided hubris that changes the world for the worse. I expect to exit Oppenheimer with a renewed hopelessness, a heavy heart, and the kind of malaise that only a late lunch with loads of wine can assuage – which is perfect, because cocktails are at 6, and we’re all wearing gingham.

What I’m saying re world-ending catastrophes is, good to keep one’s eye in. I’m also saying that there’s no harm – scratch that, there is essential soul-salving good – in seeking joy and frivolity during life’s darkest moments. Whether we’re conscious of it or not, that’s a seesaw we’re all increasingly familiar with: life is both beautiful and horrifying, people are both awful and extraordinarily generous, and I’m going to see both Oppenheimer and Barbie on 22 July.

See you at the afters for electrolytes and candyfloss, in that order.'

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[inkskinned]

he tells me i'm jaded. he says - you love showers so much, why not stand in a rainstorm instead?

rainstorms have a potential to take down tree branches. they're unregulated. they get my clothes wet. in the time of my grandparents, maybe it would be more romantic. it's a drought where i live. the rain that comes down is sullen, yellow with pollution. i bite half my nails off reading about climate predictions. i stand in the shower and shift from one foot to the other, feeling annoyed with myself because i care about all of this, of course, but as a climate scientist i'm functionally useless.

he says - the color is all gone from the world! people used to like bright things. what happened to all of us?

i feel like rich people love minimalism differently. they like to remind others - i don't really need things. they can afford to have-less. they don't need to worry about buying extra; they can just get it later.

my car is silver so in 5 years after paying back the loan i might be able to sell it, if i don't hurt it too bad and if i don't drive it too hard, and if luck is in my corner. it's just a simple sedan, nothing-special. i guess i'm technically borrowing it from the bank. i can't really-decorate my apartment; i don't own it. i am not going to be able to afford a house any time soon. i would love to make my walls a wash of bright color - but i'd lose my deposit.

my clothes are all in neutrals; classic cuts that have very little fuss or personality attached to them. i worry about fast fashion and my finances; i want to be sure that i can wear the shirt in the future without feeling stupid and out-of-touch. the other day i finally tore through a pair of shorts i've had for about ten years now. i went home and tried to figure out how to repurpose the denim. how to make everything last a little longer. i sometimes will try on something trendy and cool and colorful - and then i pick out something i know will last me a long time instead. muted, conservative, unimpressive.

he says - the real world is waiting! everyone is so obsessed with their phones these days. go outside, connect with your friends!

it costs twenty dollars to go on the guided tour. they don't let you into the conservatory without a 320 dollar yearly membership. i come up with a spreadsheet, trying to figure out where my friends have schedule openings that overlap with mine. we both frown over our calendars - can't do thursday that week, anything in two weeks? there's no train, it costs forty dollars in transportation for her to come over; but i miss her, so i venmo her. we both bemoan the fact that there's just no way to get around without a car.

i am actually a full-blooded romantic. i am actually someone who truly and deeply believes in hope and the future of humanity. i am a poet, after all - i write because i believe someone out there, like me, is watching the world crumble while nursing a broken heart. i believe that most of us want to be kind, to be good, to turn our cheeks to the sky and be contented and warm.

it just feels like - there's this strange, brewing storm. where people with money and power and prestige get to say - hope is a yacht, just hop on and go.

and all us jaded, horrible little still-here tear-stained cockroaches, who croak and complain about global injustice: we don't accept it. we make our lives beautiful with whatever we can wrestle out of stone. we clutch our diaries and our sunflowers and our songs to our chest. ugly and hurting, we snarl - hope isn't yours though. it's ours.

it's all we have left.

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 2065

Part 2

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl

Despite your super soldier enhancements, it takes a few days before you’re cleared from the medical bay. The bullets you had been shot with were identified as hollow point sniper rounds—basically the biggest, baddest of the bunch. If you had been a normal human, your insides would’ve been shredded to pieces and you would’ve died before you even hit the ground.

You’re retired to light duty while you recover, which is painfully boring and dull. You attend physical therapy to strengthen your body, but sometimes you push yourself too hard and stumble back to your and Natasha’s room with blood staining through your bandages. She always chastises you for hurting yourself, but secretly admires your dedication and will never pass up the opportunity to help take care of you.

One week after the condominium collapse, you join Steve, Clint, and Natasha for a private meeting with members of the Miami Police Department and the FBI. As Steve had suspected, the collapse wasn’t an accident. Someone had deliberately taken out the concrete supports in the parking garage with explosives.

“We couldn’t have just phoned that in?” you whine from the backseat. Clint is in the driver’s seat, Steve next to him. You and Natasha sit in the back. “I mean, they drag us all the way across the city, just to tell us something they could’ve sent over text—” 

“Information like that, the less people to intercept the message, the better,” Steve mutters, staring out the window as the car zooms down the highway.

“I don’t know about that,” you dismiss, and Natasha side-eyes you. She knows you’re just cranky because Steve interrupted your morning cuddle with her. There isn’t much you can do intimately when you can barely twist your torso, so you have to make due with what you can.

“You know, Y/N, you are the one this guy’s after,” Clint points out. “So, if anything, you’re the only one that needed to show up.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a psychopath coming after you—” 

THUD.

Everyone’s head turns to the roof of the car. You swear you see the imprint of a hand dented in the metal.

“What the—”

Natasha suddenly leaps out of her seat and into your lap. She wraps her arms around your neck, yanking your head down.

“Hey!” you shout in protest, but then you hear a bullet whiz behind your head and feel the foam of the headrest cushion spray the back of your neck. Still in your lap, Natasha kicks Steve’s shoulder, causing him to hit his head against the window before a bullet zings through his headrest. Following her example, you kick Clint’s seat and he jolts forward, the bullet missing his head by inches.

“Stop the car!” Steve yells, crunching the gear shift into park.

The tires burn rubber and the car slides back and forth before coming to a grinding halt. Cars behind you honk and swerve around you. A figure goes flying off the roof of the car and lands in the road, rolling to their feet. They wear a black vest, revealing their left arm to be completely made out of metal overlapping plates. Their hair is chin-length and a mask covers the lower half of their face.

Suddenly, an 18-wheeler semi-truck, unable to stop in time, slams into the back of the car. The trunk crumples like an accordion, and you instinctively tighten your grip around Natasha to shield her in case the semi-truck tears the car in half. But it doesn’t, instead pushing your car towards the masked figure, who doesn’t even bother to step out of your path.

They jump onto the hood and punch their metal arm through the windshield, grabbing the steering wheel and tearing it right out of the car. When the masked figure disappears onto the roof, Natasha takes out her gun and starts shooting, but her efforts are fruitless.

There’s no way for Clint to control the direction of the car anymore and it’s too dangerous to stay inside with the masked figure close by.

“Hang on!” Steve says, reaching across the front to grab Clint. In the same motion, he slams his shoulder into his door, knocking it off its hinges. Both men go flying out of the car.

“That looks like a good idea,” you mumble, anchoring your arm to your own car door, the other pressing Natasha against you as tightly as you can. “Hold on, babe.” You ram your shoulder into the door with all your strength, ignoring the pain that rips through your stomach.

The door tears away from the car and turns into a makeshift sled as you go skidding down the highway. Sparks fly from the grinding contact of metal on the concrete road. When you finally come to a stop, Natasha stays on top of you, drawing her weapon and scanning for the masked figure. 

Meanwhile, the masked figure has hijacked the semi-truck, but instead of plowing you over, they turn to tip the entire vehicle over so it blocks every single lane of the highway.

“Where are they?” you pant, trying to lift your head to see the commotion but Natasha forces your head back into the car door. “Nat, stop—” 

“No!” she says. “They’re after you, remember?”

You don’t like the idea of her risking herself for you, but it’s a sweet gesture.

“Where are they?” you ask, unable to see.

“I…I don’t…” Natasha sounds confused. Suddenly, she takes off without warning. You don’t question it and run after her. Steve and Clint are engaged in an intense hand-to-hand match with the masked figure. The masked figure knocks Steve to the ground and wraps their metal hand around Clint’s neck, lifting him off the ground.

You put on a burst of speed, overtaking Natasha and launching yourself at the masked figure’s metal arm. They drop Clint instantly and you wrap your arms around the metal one, but it’s like trying to contain a bucking bull. You jerk your elbow back into their face to stun them, but it has no effect. The masked figure flings out their metal arm and you lose your grip.

You crash into the concrete highway dividers and the impact almost knocks you out. You feel your stitches tear open and you start bleeding underneath your shirt. As you stagger to your feet, you see the masked figure over Natasha, pinning her down and pulling their metal arm back, ready to deal the killing blow—

“No!” you scream, charging towards them. You catch the masked figure’s metal arm again, locking out their elbow and holding it against your chest. Natasha rolls out of harm’s way and Clint jumps into the action, launching himself at the masked figure’s legs and sending all three of you to the ground.

Natasha swings her leg around and kicks the masked figure in the face. The mask falls off. You and Clint struggle to hold them down as Steve walks up, blood dripping from a cut in his forehead.

“Bucky?” Steve says suddenly, stopping in his tracks. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the man snarls.

“Help!” you choke, not sure how much longer you can hold on to his writhing metal arm. But Steve is frozen the same way Natasha had been when she saw you get shot. “You need to get in here, Steve!” you yell, and suddenly Bucky goes limp. You and Clint exchange confused glances.

“Wait, what?” Clint says.

“What happened?” you ask, hesitantly releasing the metal arm, which flops to the ground. “Why’d he just stop like that? Did I say his safe word or something?”

“What, ‘Steve?’” Clint laughs in spite of the tense situation.

“Apparently.”

Steve is in too much shock to bite back at your jibe.

“I’ll call for reinforcements.” Natasha takes charge. “We’ll bring him back to the Tower.” She comes over to you and touches your side gently, reminding you of the blood staining through your shirt.

“I’m fine,” you assure her, reaching out to run your thumb over the bruise forming under her eye. She closes her eyes and leans into your touch. “Let’s hope that Steve is, too.”

***********************************************************************

Bucky is detained in the holding cell at the Tower and Steve goes to speak with him privately. Afterwards, he regroups with the rest of you. Clint relaxes at the kitchen counter with a beer, while you and Natasha sit on the couch together. She holds an ice pack against your stomach and frets over the fresh swelling in your shoulder.

“So, I’ve got some good and bad news,” Steve says.

“You can start by telling us who that guy is,” Clint interrupts.

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “He’s…an old friend of mine. My best friend, actually—”

“You know, that’s the same thing people thought about me and Nat at first, but obviously we’re more than that—” you start.

“Bucky was also involved in the super soldier program,” Steve continues, ignoring your comment. “But he was under HYDRA’s control for decades. They were the ones who sent him after us. And…” Steve takes a breath, “We were wrong about who his target was. He wasn’t after you, Y/N. He was after me.”

“But he shot Y/N,” Natasha says.

“Twice,” you add.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Bucky was trying to shoot me. Y/N was just in the way.”

“In the way?” Steve’s logic—or lack of it—makes your head hurt. But as Natasha thinks about it—she’s always been the smarter one in the relationship—it makes complete sense. Her mind flashbacks to the scene of the condominium collapse, where all four of you had gathered on the street after you rescued the last victim. Her and Steve stood across from you and Clint. The bullets had come from behind you—if you hadn’t been standing where you were, Steve would have been hit instead.

“I don’t think you would remember this part, Y/N, but when Nat and I were trying to get you in the ambulance, we were shot at two more times,” Steve explained. “But the bullets hit the sideview mirror and the windshield. Those were places I was in, not you.”

“Okay, so why’s he trying to kill you if you’re his best friend?” you ask.

“It’s all HYDRA’s doing. He told me he’s part of a task force that was created to kill off the Avengers. Specifically, the original six, so there’s six of them in the task force. He’s the only one that got out, and he said the other five are being held in a facility in Siberia. He wants our help to free them,” Steve says.

“So, this Bucky guy wants to work with us now? After he took down a 12-story condominium and almost killed Y/N while trying to kill you?” Clint asks.

“Please, Clint,” Steve begs. “Bucky’s my best friend—”

“A best friend who tried to kill Y/N! And you!” Natasha argues. She lowers the ice pack from your stomach and you frown at the loss of contact. “You know I love you, Steve—”

“Not as much as me,” you mutter under your breath, guiding her hand to put the ice pack back against your side.

“—But I’m gonna need you to do a little better than that.”

“I need you all to trust me,” Steve pleads. “If we have intel telling us that there are five super soldiers in existence, who are programmed to take down the Avengers, isn’t it on us to do something about it?”

“How do we know we can trust Bucky?” Clint asks.

“Well, if he does go rogue, at least we know his safe word,” you answer with a chuckle.

“If you trust me, you’ll trust him,” Steve promises.

You glance at Natasha, who is looking at the floor, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You stretch your arm over her shoulder, pulling her towards you and bumping your heads together.

“What should we do?” you whisper so quietly only she can hear.

Her free arm snakes around your waist, closing the gap between you and her, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. She rests her head against your shoulder. “Trust Steve,” she says.

“Okay.” That’s enough of an answer for you. You press a soft kiss to her temple and look back at Steve. “So, what did you have in mind?”

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

Click here for Part 4!

AN: I love taking inspiration from many places, and the inspiration for this part is the awesome fight on the highway from Captain America: Winter Soldier. Thank you to everyone for the continued support!

[riddlessbasilisk]

Hi I’m a fellow tom simp 🥺 I really love a mean Tom but a nice one gets me in the feels when he starts realising he cares and gets that guilty feeling. Do you every see your self writing a Tom x innocent reader who he accidentally hurts and then feels guilty for but doesn’t want to admit it but for some reason her cuteness rules over him😭😭💖 I’m tryna turn his lil agressive ass soft but I wanna see how you could make that work 🙏🏽🥺

Hey 👀 Yeah, I've got you. Gotta love a bit of conflicted Tom, Man is a trainwreck when he has f e e l i n g s

Why is this gif of Tom so- 10/10 *chefs kiss*

Y/H - Your house

×××××

On your first day at Hogwarts, you were considered average, a halfblood with no real reputation on either side of the family. You had a few friends, sure, and you did eventually get sorted into Y/H, which helped people believe more in your kind-hearted nature. But you were still just that, average, plain, unrecognizable in a crowd.

By your Second Year at Hogwarts, you had established some sort of name for yourself. Not all good of course, more than one of the Slytherins had called you too 'soft', but it wasn't enough to overlap what everyone else seemed to think of you. That you were a good person to go to for help, that you were a good person to rely on, that you were a good person.

By your Third Year at Hogwarts, you had been noticed by a certain Riddle, Tom Marvolo Riddle, to be exact. You had heard the rumours about him, girls swooned, guys wanted to be him, and a few, a small few, absolutely detested him - and neither you nor any one else knew why.

By your Fourth Year at Hogwarts, you had been often seen around the said Riddle from before, despite whoever protested to it. Though the name Riddle fitted Tom far too well, and perhaps you should've realised that some Riddles can't be fully solved until the last minute, and sometimes the answer isn't as nice as you'd been made to believe, and sometimes it's so much better than you ever imagined.

---

Your fingers felt frosted as you sat on your cloak against the crisp grass of Autumn, the courtyard was barely visible other than the lanterns splaying the walls. The sun went down at 5 usually now, and as much as you loved the stars sparkling up in the sky, the chill was much too noticeable - but it hardly compared to the chill that had turned into a layer of ice around your heart, and maybe that's why you continued to sit there and let the wind take over your body and the moon take over your mind

You didn't know why Tom had did it really, you didn't have the answer to why you had seen him flirting with a Pureblood Witch from your Astronomy class, but you had an idea, and it was that she was in higher classes than you, just like Tom was, and that's probably where they met, and that's probably where he had realised that she's better than you academically, and much more regal and proper.

And as much as you wished he had turned around and apologised when you caught him, he didn't, you swore he had glared actually. But you didn't mind, it's not like either of you had ever declared any sort of relationship, or said you had loved eachother - but it still hurt, really bad, and as much as you wanted to believe that those days at hogsmede, or honeydukes, or when he would let you, and only you, sit with him in the library while he read, meant something, that seemed unrealistic.

Because you had swore that you had seen him take her into the library with him earlier.

Looking up at the stars felt bitter, because they were like him, twinkling, brilliant, and yet incased in darkness only brightened by the moon, and while you wanted to believe you were his moon, it was far too obvious that you were only a shooting star who went as quick as they came.

But the ice around your heart was thawed only by the woes that Tom had told you so many times before, about how he didn't understand himself as much as he wished he did, about how Abraxas and Avery were annoyances more than they were conveniences. Things he had never told anyone else, things you doubted he would even tell her.

And the ice frosted over again when you remembered the time you saw him pin a third year muggleborn against the wall for something so minimal, or when you saw Avery come out of the Slytherin common room one day with bruises along his arms that you were sure weren't there the day before.

Tom Riddle was a bad person

And you were a good person

People had said it before, so why did it hurt you to realise,

And why did you still want him so so badly.

It was because you wanted to be the moon in his darkness, you wanted him to be next to you with frosted fingers imagining you in the stars, you believed you could be the moon to his darkness.

Which is why you were going to the library, because you knew he would be there, and you knew he was a good person, and you knew that Sienna Bowcan only wanted him for his looks.

Pushing open the library door, your confidence slipped away, there he was, there they both were. Tears pushed up against your vision but you blinked them away, taking comfort in the smell of old books that invaded the space around you.

Pushing yourself forward reluctantly, you stopped in front of them, Tom didn't even glance at you, Sienna seemed to be seething.

"What do you want, L/N?", The pureblood spoke through her teeth, an amount of jealousy seeping through, and you noticed Tom stiffen at that, which thawed your heart again, even though you weren't entirely sure it was her that stiffened him.

"Can I speak to you, Tom?" You spoke quietly, trying not to let your nerves show through, because you didn't know if rejection would hurt more or not, "Alone?", you glanced at her again, and the hate surrounding her made you shiver.

The man himself closed over the book he had been reading, a potions textbook, which seemed a little off for him, considering he was perfect at potions, but you didnt comment. His brown eyes looked up at you with a cold glare, which made you almost sure of rejection,

Until he didn't, standing up,

"Where to, L/N"

But perhaps being referred to like that by him of all people hurt like it was rejection, and suddenly you wanted to cry again, "The astronomy tower?", your voice was meek, and it felt humiliating.

The first half of the walk up there was uneventful, but you could feel him looking at you, analysing you as if you were that potions textbook from the library, "Why do you look sad?", His voice was neutral, but Tom Marvolo Riddle didn't ask questions without reason. That in itself made you think that maybe it wasn't all just a facade.

Forcing yourself to look at him, you couldn't help but smile, that face, that face of his right now, the one that was somewhere between frustration and confusion. He had made it before when he was ranting about his feelings to you, "I'm hurt", you admitted.

Suddenly, halfway up the tower, he stopped, prompting you to stop with him,

"Why are you hurt? Who hurt you, I can talk to them, if you'd like", you felt stunned for a second, confused, talk to them? He would do that for you? Of course, unless he planned on talking to himself, that probably wouldn't work today, "You hurt me, Tom" you looked down, not wanting to look at him, but you could only imagine the whirlwind happening in those eyes of his.

You felt your chin being grabbed softly and pushed up, but you didn't register it until you saw him again. Annoyance swirled in his eyes, prettier than any stars that could be born, and yet his annoyance hardly seemed directed at you, "How...did I hurt you?", All of the confidence that was Tom Marvolo Riddle was still there, but he seemed confused, vulnerable almost. Your smile weakened a little, "I just, thought there was...something between us, but then you started..pursuing Bowcan", You shifted away from him a little, prepared to run so be it he laughed, or mocked you.

You hoped he wouldn't, because you didn't believe he was as bad as people made him out to be.

Yet, he just seemed confused when you looked into his eyes again, "I do like you." He stated in an almost factual tone, as if it were the most clear thing in the world.

"But Bowc-", Tom cut you off quickly, not just with the look he gave you but with the pull he had gave your arm before he interlooped it with his own and led you up the stairs and into the astronomy tower, guiding you towards the edge of the rail and looking up at the stars, "Bowcan means nothing", his voice interlapped with the wind.

"Does that mean we...do have something?", as much as you wanted to say, 'are you mine?', or, 'are we together then?', you knew that that was far too blunt for him.

For Tom, however, he looked up at the stars to avoid your gaze, because he didn't know what he was doing. He had you beside him, he had you, he always had, considering anyone else who got near you romantically ended up with some sort of visit off of him (indirectly or not). Yet he had hurt you, and that hurt him, and nothing was allowed to hurt him, or make him weak, and if you were anyone else he was sure he would've threw you over the railing, or atleast debated it.

But if him being with Bowcan hurt you, despite her being little more than a pawn in the game he played, then he would stop. And even though this encounter had absolutely ruined his match, he hardly cared, because it was you

He didn't hesitate to squeeze your arm, "Yes, apparently so", and as much as he wanted to say so much more, he couldn't, because you didn't know half of the things he did, and he didn't want to ruin that innocence - and feeling you press yourself closer to him in some form of content filled him with emotions he hardly understood.

Maybe the stars told him all he had to know. He was the darkness and you were the light within, both the stars and the moon - because the light in his heart, small as it may be, was reserved for you, and you had all the light in the world to offer to everyone else.

[insomniamamma]

Liminal: Ezra and Cee

A/N: Contemporary AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's caretaker after an automobile accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Same AU as "Ferris wheels are for old people." No reader insert character, just Ezra and Cee on the road. Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer’s Wednesday.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma/injury. Drug references in a song. Some language. I tried to research body powered transhumeral prosthetics to get some idea of how Ezra's prosthetic arm might work, but then I fell into an overthinking morass, any inaccuracies are mine.

"Willin'" is written by Lowell George. The version referenced in the story is recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

lim·i·nal /ˈlimənl/

adjective: liminal

   1.relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.    2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

--"Willin'"--

          "’... been warped by the rain, driven by the snow,’" Cee sings along with the music rattling through the truck's speakers, "I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know. But I'm still willin'..."

        The road stretches long and straight in front of them, harsh, rust-colored land dotted with scrub under the arc of an impossibly blue sky. Ezra asked Cee to compile the playlist. You are my co-pilot for this mission, he'd told her, and as such your duties include, but are not limited to, navigator, snack supervisor and DJ. DJ? Really? Make us a playlist, Little Bird, every adventure needs some good road music. And she had really delivered.          "’...Out on the road late last night, I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Alice, Dallas Alice...’"  Ezra'd expected hours of auto-tuned pop or loud screamy music where he couldn't understand the words, and while there was some of that, Cee had taken her duties as DJ very seriously, creating a huge genre-bending list that all worked together.

     He knew a lot of it. When he was still weird Uncle Ezra and not Legal Guardian Ezra, Cee made a habit of pawing through his vinyl collection when she and Damon would visit, picking a record to play and then peppering him with questions about it. Still, some of the tracks she picked surprised him, like this one, Linda Ronstadt's version of "Willin'" a road trip anthem if there ever was one, but something he didn't expect Cee to be familiar with.  On their first go through the playlist, he'd asked her, where'd you hear this one, Birdie? You remember that movie, The Abyss? It's in that movie, the director's cut though, not the theatrical cut, the theatrical cut is bullshit--and he'd just listened to her go off about all the things wrong with the theatrical cut, the movie itself he barely remembered, something about divers finding aliens underwater, he'd listened and grinned, Cee could go so quiet sometimes. It was always a relief to hear her sound alive and interested, especially after--          "’And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari," Cee sings and Ezra joins her, "Tehachapi to Tonopah...’" Cee's voice is sweet. Ezra's voice is not, but that's never stopped him. They've got the windows down. The AC started smelling funny a couple days ago, and, in this part of the world, a breeze to evaporate the sweat is just as good as AC. Cee's hair makes a flyaway halo as they sing--          "’Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. And if you give me...’" Ezra and Cee smile at each other, suck in deep breaths for the big chorus, "’...Weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign...And I'll be willin' to be movin'"

--Petroglyph--

       The rust colored forms on pale stone walls peer out at them. Some loom large in the foreground, others recede into the background as if the weathered rock is a portal a window into some other place that lives just below the skin of the world. The back of Ezra's neck prickles. Sometimes the world is thin. Sometimes he feels as if there is a larger world moving and shifting beneath the surface of this one. Sometimes he feels like things are happening out of order, reality stripping and skipping like a loose bicycle chain--        Cee's warm hand creeps into his, "They're a little scary, aren't they?" She says.        "Indeed they are," says Ezra, "One has to wonder what they were thinking. What they were trying to say. Are these gods in these pictures? Or just regular men?"        "Does it matter?" Asks Cee, and he jerks his head to look at her. She is utterly entranced by the red figures and sigils.        "Of course it does," he says, "You don't think so?"        "I mean, it matters, I guess, but what matters more is that people made these," she says, "People like us. People with hands. Not that Ancient Aliens bullshit." Ezra laughs. Cee squeezes his hand.        "C'mon," she says, "let's see more."

--Rest Stop--

       "Hey MOM!," a child's voice snaps Ezra out of his reverie. Cee is in the truck stop, using the restroom and restocking their snack supply. At these stops he fuels up and then gives her some cash and sets her loose inside. And then they stretch their legs and sit outside for a spell. Ezra sits at a picnic bench letting the sun hit his closed eyelids, "MOM! That guy's got a ROBOT ARM! Like WINTER SOLDIER!" Ezra opens his eyes to a little boy, maybe four with a bunch of curly hair and big eyes, pointing at him.        "Daniel!" His mother hisses, and pinches at his arm, "That's rude. I'm so sorry. Danny, what did I tell you about staring--"        "Ma'am? It's quite alright, Ma'am," says Ezra, and hunkers down so he's eye level with the little boy.        "Hi there," he says, "Daniel, is it? I'm Ezra." He offers his right arm, the double hook at the end open, titanium alloy padded with silicone. Daniel solemnly grips the hooks and shakes.        "You've got stickers!" Says Daniel, and for a second Ezra is confused, and then he grins, looking down at the bedecked black plastic of his prosthesis. He stands.        "My girl decided that I must have a sticker for every state we stop in," says Ezra, he stands and smiles at Daniel's mom, "Like an old steamer trunk. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name--"        Cee steps out of the air-conditioned cavern of the truck stop, slits her eyes against the brightness of midday sun glittering up from the concrete, plastic bags full of crap-snacks and energy drinks threaded over her arms. Ezra handed her a couple twenties and told her to go nuts. Re-supply runs have turned into their own sort of game. She always grabs the usual stuff, chips and Snickers bars and Paydays (Ezra has an absolute weakness for Paydays. They don't taste like they used to, he'd griped, but that didn't stop him from eating them), but somewhere along the line, Cee decided to turn this into a battle of the wills. Her unspoken mission is to find something so utterly weird at one of these stops that Ezra won't eat it. So far, she has been unsuccessful. The closest thing was an aloe juice and cucumber drink that smelled amazing, but felt like swallowing cold snot. That one was a draw. She has high hopes for the dill pickle-sriracha gummy worms nestled in the bottom of the bag. The packaging looked like Christmas in hell. More important than the snacks is the plain, flat paper bag she holds.                                                                                     Ezra's near the picnic benches chattering at some lady with a kid. Menace, she thinks, but smiles. Ezra was always the extrovert before, and it's good to him smiling so big and open in the sunshine, making friends with random people at a truck stop. She sees an echo of her and him before, when she and Dad would visit when she was small and he'd tell her some outrageous tale and she'd say Uncle Ezra, you're so weird, and he'd scoop her up and swing her around, planting a prickly kiss on her cheek and saying oh, little bird, you have no idea, and this always made Dad laugh.

       "Oh, Ez-ra," Cee calls, and when he turns, he sees her devilish grin, holding a small brown paper bag up beside her face like it's contraband, "Look what I found."         "So I get to witness the sacred stickering?" Asks Ezra's new friend.        "Indeed you do," says Ezra, "This is Cee. Cee, meet Jody, and that little man playing in the dirt there is Daniel."        "Nice to meet you," says Cee, "Stick your arm out, old man."        "Don't you want to document this momentous occasion?"        "Oh, right," Cee pulls out her phone, "Hey, uh, miss Jody? Can you take some video? I got it all set up."        "Cee is documenting our adventures for posterity," says Ezra. He extends his prosthetic, already covered in overlapping ovoids, enough that they are starting to resemble dragon scales, "What do you think?" Cee and Daniel circle round.        "How bout here?" asks Daniel, tapping just above the articulated elbow.        "That's a good spot," says Cee and peels the sticker from it's backing with a flourish. She smiles up at her phone recording in a stranger's hand, "We have now infiltrated the state of Nevada," she grins, "Evil-doers beware."        "Yeah!" Says the little boy, pudgy hands planted on his hips for the benefit of the camera, "Or Winter Soldier will KICK YOUR ASS!"        "Daniel!"

--Stars--

       Cee wakes in the dead of night, disoriented, a darkness so thick that for a moment she's not sure where she is, and then she hears Ezra's rhythmic snoring off to her side, reaches out and brushes fabric of the tent and lays back, puzzled, muscles pleasantly sore from a day spent scrabbling up and down eroded granite boulders that looked like they belonged on Mars or Tatooine, walking trails and marveling at the strange ecology of the high-desert, so unlike back home. Bad dream? She wonders, probably. She feels her eyes getting heavy, feels herself lulled by Ezra's sleep sounds, snores punctuated by mumbles. Sometimes full sentences, his side of whatever dream-conversation he's having. Probably has no idea he does it--        Cee sits bolt upright, hands clutched in fists against her chest, a high-pitched wail cuts the cold night, a sound like a woman screaming, and another wail threads through the first, so loud it could be right outside the tent, and then a sound like gruesome laughter. The back of her neck prickles and her heart pounds in her throat. She tells herself that it's just some wild animal making noise, some desert bird maybe, but wasn't the California desert the last known home of the Manson family? Maybe not this desert, but still--        "Ezra," she hisses, and he mumbles something incoherent, "Ezra, wake up!" She reaches and pokes him hard, "Ezra!"        "Whazzit birdie?"        "Listen!" The screams rise and fall again like something from a horror movie.        "s'just coyotes," says Ezra, "probly next county over. They don't hurt people, they're just loud."        "You sure?"        "Go back to sleep, Cee."

       "Ezra," He's dreaming, some place with Joshua trees the size of skyscrapers, spiked limbs under a red sky. Cee's with him somewhere in the bloodlight but he can't see her, just hears her calling--        "Ezra!" He blinks awake, the red sky receding. Cee is shaking him.        "Yuh. M'awake birdie,"        "I gotta pee," she says.        "You know where the outhouses are, just right down the trail,"        "I'm not going by myself! Not with those things out there!" Ezra pushes himself up and shakes his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He can just make out Cee's form against the faint light of the sky leaking through the tent.        "Alright, just gimme a second," he says.        "I'll get the light,"        "We don't need it," he says.        "Ez-"        "We got night eyes now," he says, "No light pollution out here. You'll see."

       Ezra stands transfixed in the chill dark, head cocked upward. The more he looks, the more he can see. More stars than he's ever seen in his life spread across the vast inverted bowl of the sky, no summer haze out here, no light-wash from streetlights. He is dizzy with it, the vast sweep of the sky, and as he stares and his eyes adjust further, he can see the arm of the Milky Way angled across the black, can actually see the dark band of dust threaded through the silver-blue light. He doesn't hear the outhouse door shutting, doesn't notice Cee beside him until she folds his hand into hers.        "Look up, Little Bird," he breathes and it feels like a prayer, his heart suddenly full, squeezing in his chest, Cee small and warm next to him.        "Oh, wow," she says, barely a whisper, "That's the Milky Way isn't it?" Tears blur the stars and fall hot against his cheeks.        "It is." He looks at her, her face upturned, cheeks and hair frosted in star shine, limning her eyes, her smile. They've lost so much, him and Cee, but they've gained each other, and that's not nothing is it?        "We're so small," says Cee, "Us. People. This whole planet. All of us. We're just a little dot." Ezra smiles in the dark, even as tears dry in his lashes. He squeezes her fingers in his.        "C'mon, let's get back in the tent before we freeze."

--Hoodoo--

       Cee sleeps in the passenger's seat. She'd helped break camp and pack everything up even though it was early for her. They had spent an extra night in Joshua Tree and now had to make up the difference. It's time to go home. There are things he wants to do before Cee goes back to school, things they need to take care of. So he woke them early, promising Cee that she could sleep in the car as long as she needed. She'd helped him get ready, half-peeling a couple candy bars and putting them were he could easily reach.        "You want the playlist?" She asked, "I can get it going."        "Not right now. I want some quiet."          “'Kay," and Cee was asleep before they were to the next mile marker.

       Hoodoos rise on either side of the highway, striated red cliffs against the slowly lightening sky, cut into improbable formations by long gone rivers, thin spires topped with boulders, first glints of sun hitting the higher cliffs while everything else still exists in that liminal space between day and night. Ezra glances over at Cee, hair in a messy halo, face slack in sleep, cheeks sun-reddened and newly freckled, closed eyes moving, dreaming. Ezra thinks of those first days, wracked with pain and trying to navigate the new, dark-shrowded territory of her and him, each of them crippled by loss, each willing to lash out at the other. Ezra thinks of how far they've come since then, uncurling like relaxing fists and learning to be with each other. They drive into the dawn and the first bit of light touches her hair, turning it to fire. She shifts in her sleep, turning away from that first hint of sun. He doesn't know if she's awake or not.        "I love you, Cee."        "Love you to, Ez," she murmurs and settles back into sleep. Ezra looks out over hoodoo country spread red tinged and stark against the rising light, the miles of road ahead. We're gonna be ok, he thinks and means it.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Ethan Choi x Reader- Moving On

written by @anotheronechicagobog

A/N: This was one of the holiday requests, sorry it took so long, but COVID has really thrown some curveballs for me and my family and I’m just trying to keep my head on straight.

A/N 2: I was trying something new so this is kinda from April’s POV, let me know what you guys think.

Warnings: swearing, mention of infidelity, hospital gossip, I work in a hospital and I can honeslty say that some nurses ARE like this, April isn’t great at first but she gets there.

2020 had thrown everyone's plans off-kilter, and that included April. She had planned to win Ethan back, but that wasn't exactly working out. Ethan was chief now, which meant he had extra responsibilities. But that was fine, less time didn't mean no time at all, so long as his new job was the only obstacle they'd face. But it wasn't. April shifted her gaze from the charts she was reading to glare at her newest problem; Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, head of pediatrics and ex-navy seal. Just what she needed. Ethan and Dr. Y/L/N didn't work together often because they were in different departments, but sometimes their cases overlapped. That wasn't how they met, though, unlike most of MED's internal relationships. They met at the park when Dr. Y/L/N's dog, Rex, recognized Ethan at the park. Apparently, Rex was a retired Miltary Working Dog and had been assigned to a friend of Ethan's, and Dr. Y/L/N had adopted her when she retired. Ethan had formed an irritatingly sweet bond with both the dog and her human in the last four months and it drove April crazy.

"Stop glaring." April was dragged out of her inner turmoil by a frustrated Maggie. "I mean it, April. Stop glaring at her. She doesn't deserve that."

"But-"

"Okay, April, I have tried to be supportive and nurturing and understanding, but I'm done, okay? I'm done. We are in the middle of an international pandemic in a country with one of the highest mortality rates, I do not have the ability to deal with that and whatever Grey's Anatomy nonsense that's floating around the hospital. I'm sorry, but you and Ethan are over and that is largely your fault. Stop acting like a jilted teenager and grow up. You have a patient in three, they're presenting three COVID symptoms; sore throat, difficulty breathing, and loss of taste."

"Maggie-"

"Go. Now."

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

Dr. Y/L/N was thankfully on her own floor and away from Ethan. He'd just finished with a patient so April gathered herself and approached him, hoping they could steal away for a few minutes. "Hey, Ethan, I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee? The cart outside-"

"I've already had my fill. But thanks, April." He refused to meet her eyes and because he was wearing a mask, like all of the staff, she couldn't completely gauge his response, but April didn't let that deter her. "Oh. Well, maybe we could get some takeout after shift, then? I really want to-"

"April... Please stop."

"But Ethan, we haven't been alone together in so long, we can't talk, or makeup or anything."

"Don't you think that was the point? We're done, April. We're broken up, and we're not getting back together."

"Why not?!"

"April, don't make a scene. We are at work. We are nothing but colleagues now, and it is inappropriate and insulting for a colleague to speak to another this way." Ethan turned and walked to the nurse's station and the only reason April didn't follow was a levelled glare from Maggie.

She regretted that when she saw Ethan and Dr. Y/L/N leave together, talking about picking up pad Thai on their way 'home'.

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

Ethan wasn't working today. And for once, Dr. Y/L/N was called down to the ED without Ethan there to greet her. April felt the adrenaline pumping through her. Today was the day she'd put an end to whatever was going on between that... Witch and Ethan. "Dr. Y/L/N?"

The woman turned from the computer she'd been using at the nurse's station to file the patient transfer for her eight-year-old dialysis patient. "Yes?"

"May I speak to you in the lounge for a moment? It's important."

"Of course."

When they entered the doctor's lounge April whirled around and jabbed a finger into the doctor's chest. "Stay the fuck away from Ethan Choi, he's mine!" The other woman didn't so much as blink. Instead, her eyes looked bored as April stood in front of her, fuming. "So that's what's so important, huh? Claiming Ethan despite the damage you caused? Not only is the reason you asked me in here completely absurd and unprofessional, but there's a pandemic going on and you're a nurse, you know that you need to be six feet away."

"It's not 'absurd' and I'm not backing down. Ethan and I love each other, this is just a bump in the road."

"If this is a bump in the road, I'd hate to see a pothole."

"If you don't stay away from him I'm going to make your life a living hell." Dr. Y/L/N schooled herself, looking at April in that cold dangerously confident way she'd seen villains regard their enemies in movies. "Is that a threat, nurse Sexton?"

"It's a pr-promise."

"Are you sure about that? You seem incredibly nervous, maybe this is just stress?"

"No. It's a promise. A damn promise that I will do everything I can to make your time at Gaffney your worst nightmare if you don't leave Ethan alone."

"Oh, is it? Well, let it be known, April, that I didn't fire first." Then she turned and walked away, leaving April confused but proud. She would finally have Ethan back. After months of heartache, she would have the man she loved back.

She smiled, at herself and the weight that had been lifted off her shoulders.

Too bad it was a preemptive celebration.

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

Usually, for New Year's eve, the hospital held a big party in one of the auditoriums, had tables set up in the break rooms for those who had to work. But COVID had yet again screwed up everyone's plans. So instead, there were no big parties, no tables with food or drinks, just some decorations set up and that was it. No one was supposed to take their mask off bless they were in a designated eating/drinking area or they were outside the hospital. And the only time they could take off their mask around people was if they were in the same social bubble. April and Ethan weren't in the same social bubble but that was going to change after the clock struck midnight and this hellish year would finally be over.

The ED was quiet for once, and a few people had taken advantage of the emptiness to duck outside and kiss their SO. April had expected Will and Natalie to leave together, this year had been hard on the married couple and they were doing what they could to stay as positive as possible. What April didn't expect was for Ethan to trail out behind them. She hadn't asked him to go outside with her yet, she felt her stomach flutter. He was back. Her Ethan was finally back. April darted out after him, bursting with excitement. She and Ethan were going to have their midnight kiss and then get back together. She slowed her steps when she reached the small garden at the side of the hospital. She composed herself, taking a steadying breath. She didn't want to look haggard or frazzled when Ethan saw her. But as she entered the garden's flower arrangements, her heart plummeted. Ethan stood in front of Y/L/N, with his mask off and his phone on a decorative stone playing the countdown. He leaned in just as she did, drawing her closer with an arm around her waist and cradled her face with his other hand. God, April felt like she was going to throw up, her insides felt like they were on fire. And after their lips finally met, after April had to witness the emotion and love that radiated around them, she couldn't take it anymore. She ran to the nearest trash can, ripped off her mask, and threw up.

——————————————--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

April made good on her promise. She cried in Doris' arms and wept about how Ethan was stolen from her. Within the hour nurses in all departments had been called to arms, you were officially an enemy. But what April didn't know was that she was too.

It started with the silent treatment from Nat, continued with a scoff and roll of the eyes from Crockett and any doctor in the vicinity when she tried to make small talk, and it ended when three days later Maggie pulled her to the side and told her to call her union rep and meet in Goodwin's office at noon the next day. "What? Why?" Maggie froze mid-turn. She straightened to her full height and met April's confused expression with a ruthlessly expressionless one. "You should know exactly why, April. I told you to stop, I told you to behave yourself. Why didn't you listen?"

"What did she do? What did that bi-"

"She didn't do anything! But you did April, you did and now you have to face the consequences."

"Maggie-"

"Call. Your. Union. Rep. Now." April ducked her head slightly, the reality that she might actually be in trouble settling in. But she was just defending her boyfriend, her love, she hadn't done anything wrong... Right?

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

April had expected that she would have to face you in the meeting. Look you in the eye and stare you down. But you weren't there. She walked in with her union rep and sat at the other side of the table as Sharon, Peter The Stressed Out Lawyer, a woman whose demeanour screamed HR, a man wearing a doctors' union polo, and Ethan. Y/L/N was nowhere to be found. She tried not to let her surprise show, but Ethan rolled his eyes so hard his body shifted with them, so she clearly hadn't been as discreet as she'd hoped.

"Alright, everyone's here, let's get started. I am the hospital administrator, Sharon Goodwin. I am joined by Peter Kalmic, one of the hospital's lawyers, Helena Lopez from human resources, Timothy Gunan from the American Doctor's Union,  Geraldine Landings from the nurse's union, April Sexton, and Dr. Ethan Choi, the employee who filed the complaint for which we are here today. Let's begin. Dr. Ethan Choi and April Sexton began a relationship two years ago which has since ended and the two have remained separated and uninvolved for several months. As per their relationship professionalism form they signed with HR when they started dating, 'in the event of relationship termination, the parties of this contract agree to honour and uphold the hospital's code of conduct by remaining respectful and professional'. Dr. Ethan Choi, do you feel as though you have upheld this contract?"

"Yes. I do." His voice was even, cold. He kept his eyes straight on Goodwin at the head of the table. "April," when April turned to the older woman she considered a friend, she didn't see sympathy or understanding playing in her eyes. Only frustration, and April couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was because of her. "Do feel as though you have upheld this contract?"

"Yes, of course, I do."

"Do either parties want to dispute anything that has been said?"

"I would." Ethan raised his hand and everyone but her collectively sighed. April still had hope that this meeting was about them reinstating their relationship officially at work, but as she watched Ethan's face, she could see the angry micro-expressions slithering under his skin. He was angry, and she didn't think it was at Y/L/N. "April Sexton has not upheld the contract we signed with HR. April has been harassing me for months insisting that I take her back after she participated in some... Indiscretions that caused our relationship to end. I have since moved on and recently started dating someone new, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, the head of pediatrics. Five days ago, April threatened my girlfriend in the doctor's lounge. Telling her to stay away from me and that there would be consequences if she didn't. Three days ago, nurses all over the hospital have made rude comments and gestures towards my girlfriend, refused to work with her on cases, and she has 'accidentally' been pushed or knock into far too many times to be a coincidence. All on the grounds of being a 'homewrecker'. April's behaviour and the behaviour she encouraged from her colleagues was disrespectful, unprofessional, and it has created a toxic work environment."

April was speechless. Couldn't he understand that she loved him? That she was doing this all for him? So that they could be together again? Have a family? "Do you have any proof, Dr. Choi? These are some hefty accusations, we can't just accept hearsay in an official complaint."

"I have several written letters from doctors, orderly's, porters, and the head nurse in the emergency department. All attesting that they heard nurse Sexton threaten Y/N  very loudly in the doctor's lounge. I also have print-outs of some emails that were sent to some of the staff and three nurses in Y/N's department, all from nurse Sexton telling them that Y/N had been 'blacklisted' and was an 'enemy' of the nurses, and letters from more staff who witnessed Y/N's harassment for the past three days."

"Please distribute those papers amongst the union reps, Ms. Goodwin, myself, and nurse Sexton." Ethan nodded and followed the lawyer's order, the room was deathly silent, the only sound coming from the rustling of papers. He didn't even look at her when he handed her copies. And as she looked at them, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. It was all there. Every word she'd said had been heard crystal clear. She didn't even try to be vague in those damn emails. Not even the linen service workers had been fooled by all the 'accidental' bumps and shoves.

Her union rep side-eyed her and subtly shook her head. April nodded, message received. This is bad, I could lose my job, I could lose other people their jobs, and in the middle of a pandemic no less. "I also want to make it clear that neither Y/N nor I want April to be fired. She is a good nurse, and quite frankly we're already understaffed as it is. What we want is for April to leave us alone, call off the dogs, and get some counselling provided by the hospital. We'll both sign whatever to make that happen, but we just don't see the need to bomb her career over this. We just want her to stop."

"Thank you, Dr. Choi."

"Nurse Sexton, is there anything you would like to say?" She looked at her rep and bit her lip. "Can I have a moment outside to speak with my union rep?"

"Absolutely."

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

"April, what do you want to say?"

"I love him, I did this for-"

"April! You could lose your job over this! You could be sued, by Dr. Choi, Dr. Y/L/N, and possibly the hospital! Please, for once, think clearly. I strongly recommend that you do not say that, any of that."

"Well, what should I do, then?"

"Go in there, apologize, do what they ask, and accept their conditions. You dug your own grave, April, you should be grateful that they're giving you this easy of an out."

"It doesn't feel easy... But okay."

"Good."

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

April had never felt more humiliated and small in her entire life. Having to send out a hospital-wide apology email was bad enough, but looking Y/L/N in the eye and- oh the memory was just to painfully embarrassing to remember, it had April shaking her head and focusing on the door in front of her just to stop remembering. But the worst part, the worst part, was having to promise to leave Ethan alone, and when she got her next schedule, she noticed that they had moved to a different time slot so that she almost never work the same shift as him. It was hard to stomach and she spent the first week after trying to vomit all over her shoes.

When she was leaving her shift, she'd see them coming in, when she was arriving, she'd see them leaving. It drove her nuts, they were always together, always holding hands, looking at each other lovingly. She tried to take a deep breath and just keep moving but the sight always knocked the wind out of her. And she couldn't go to any friends about it because they were all on different shifts for the most part, and she hadn't been able to make new ones because they'd all gotten that email. April felt like she was swirling the drain and sometimes breathing felt like a chore. Dr. Charles had been conducting her counselling sessions, and while he says they're making progress it certainly doesn't feel like it.

"April, it's always darkest before dawn. It's going to get better, sometimes it just has to get worse first."

April was sick and tired of wading through the darkest blindly and alone. When was dawn coming? Hadn't it been long enough?

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

THREE YEARS LATER

Maggie flitted around with Natalie, flooding her dress and touching up her makeup. They stepped backend admired their handiwork, their joy completely and utterly contagious. "Okay, look in the mirror."

"What do you think?"

April turned and felt herself go speechless. This truly was the most expensive dress she'd ever worn, but that wasn't even a thought that crossed her mind. Her wedding gown was white, and fluffy, and sparkly, and everything suddenly felt so much more real. In half an hour, she was going to walk down the aisle to the love of her life and a new chapter would begin and she couldn't wait. She found herself void of the butterflies and nerves others had talked about, instead, she found herself plagued by impatience. Why did time pass by so slowly?

"Well, what do you think?"

"I've never felt this amazing, or this excited before."

"He's not gonna know what hit him."

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

The ceremony had been everything she'd ever dreamed about. Her fiance- sorry, husband, had never looked so awe-struck in the entire time she'd known him. Their vows had been beautiful and loving, and leaving the church knowing she was going to spend the rest of her life side-by-side with her soulmate brought peace to April's soul.

She and her hubby were currently in the task of going around to everyone, thanking them for coming, when they got to table seven out of twenty. Y/N was the first one to greet her. "April! Congratulations, that was such a gorgeous ceremony."

"Thanks, Y/N!" They went in for a hug but couldn't exactly get their arms around with how big Y/N's bump was. The woman huffed. "I feel like an overstuffed dumpling."

"Well, then you're a glowing overstuffed dumpling. You're getting close to your due date, right?"

"Yeah, we're one week away, I can't wait to meet them."

"That close, huh? I'm actually surprised Ethan let you out of the house, last time we talk he was really enforcing that 'house arrest'."

"I may or may not have roped his mother into telling him how ridiculously over-protective he was being. Oh! They're kicking, want to feel?"

"Oh, they're strong. Now I see why you're so eager to meet them, you want them to be able to kick Ethan too instead of just you."

"Yup."

"Hey! Congrats, by the way, April, the wedding was wonderful. I'm glad that you're so happy."

"Yeah, I'm glad that we all got the happy endings we needed." And as April's husband lead her to the dance floor when their song came on, she couldn't have felt her words to be more correct. She was married, she had patched things up with Ethan and Y/N after a year or so, and now they were also married and expecting two babies. Dr. Charles had been right, the darkness always proceeds dawn, but sometimes the darkness was worth it. He kissed her and she snuggled into his chest. So, so worth it.

[talking-bigender]

Being Bigender- what it’s like.

I know there are already posts about being bigender and what it means, but I wanted to make my own so I could share some of my knowledge and experiences on being bigen.

Bigender: The Definition

Bigender is a gender identity described as being two genders- either simultaneously [both genders at the same time], fluidly [switching between the two] or partially [sort of like being a percentage/amount of each]. It falls under the nonbinary umbrella and is one of the many multigender identities out there.

Q- Do the two genders have to be "Girl and Boy"?

Absolutely not. This is probably the most common bigender-related misconception out there. A bigender preson could be a combination of a binary gender and nonbinary gender [example: girl and agender] or two nonbinary genders [example: androgyne and neutrois]. Bigender is not defined as only being man and woman.

Difference between Bigender and Genderfluid

Bigender and genderfluid overlap in definitions/experiences and can be used simultaneously as labels if you wish- but the main difference is that bigender is just defined as being any two genders, and it’s not a requirement to be fluid between them. Meanwhile, Genderfluid is shifting between multiple genders, and don't have to be limited to two.

Q- If you’re bigender, are you trans? Or half-trans or something?

Y’know, that’s just up to the bigender/nonbinary individual to decide. I don’t consider myself trans, and for a while I didn’t even consider myself nonbinary. I’m not cis, and I relate a lot to transgender experiences- so sure, I could technically consider myself trans. But it’s not something that appeals to me as a label, so I don’t really use it. You can just be you, and you don’t have to be a part of the trans community or even in the nonbinary community if you don’t want to.

You can also have surgery/ name change/ go on hormones if you’re bigender, it’s alllll up to you.

Presentation

There is no “right” way to present when you’re bigender. You do not have to look/dress like what is expected of both of your genders, or switch between clothing or whatever. Clothing doesn’t dictate your identity in any way. It’s just fabric. Wear it however you want!

Q- Do you have to be 50% / half of both genders to be bigender?

Nope. If the genders are not felt simultaneously or fluidly and are instead felt partially each, then the metaphorical “percentage” can be anything. A bigender person may feel 60% one gender and 40% the other, or someone else may be more 70% and 30%, or even 1% and 99%, etc.

If the amount of gender experienced can be at any percent, what’s to stop me from calling myself demigender instead of bigender?

[Demigender: feeling partially, but not fully a gender. Common labels are demigirl, demiboy, etc.]

The truth is, similar to how [bi]sexual/romantic, [poly]sexual/romatic and [pan]sexual/romantic are similar, these labels overlap and it’s really up to the person to choose which label they prefer.

ALSO. Demigenders don’t necessarily only experience two genders.

Q- Do you have to have separate sets of pronouns for each gender, or multiple names?

Nope. This isn’t a requirement. You can be bigender and have as many or as little names/sets of pronouns as you wish, and they don’t have to “match” your genders either. A boy/girl bigender could use only one name and use they/them, or an agender/boy bigender could be using two names and she/her + he/him, or neopronouns, or etc. The combinations are endless, so it’s up to the individual to figure out what they want.

And again, names do not have to “correspond” with your genders- by which i mean you don’t have to have a “boy” name or a “girl” name or a neutral name unless that’s what you want.

They/Them

They/them (at least in the English language) are considered THE neutral pronouns and the go-to for anyone. And they usually are, there’s nothing wrong with that- they’re good to use on strangers, people you don’t know the pronouns of, or people who just prefer those pronouns! However, I’d also like to point out that they are not applicable to those who you know don’t use them/ don’t have them listed as their set of pronouns. It’s not a good alternative to someone’s neopronouns, or multiple/fluxuating pronouns, or just to use on anyone who doesn’t want them used. Just don’t.

This applies to every gender identity, not just bigender.

Q- If I’m bigender, how does that affect my other orientations? Should I consider myself bi, gay, etc?

Unfortunately, currently popular lgbt+ terms [especially in relation to sexuality or romantic orientation] are not really suited for nonbinary people, so there isn’t really a good answer to this- you’ll just have to figure out what sounds best to you. Feel free to use pre-existing terminology, even if it isn’t 100% “accurate”, or just make your own!

What it’s like being bigender

Well for starters, no two bigender people are the same, nor have the same experiences. I am probably the most stereotypical example of a bigender person- I’m a boy/girl, I use he/him and she/her pronouns, and I even have a “masculine” name and a “feminine” name. As much as I’d like to share alternative bigender stories, I can only tell you mine, so keep in mind that this isn’t the universal truth for all of us.

For me, I’m simultaneously both of my genders- I’m not partially one or the other, nor am I fluid between the two. At all times, I feel 100% girl and 100% boy. “Isn’t that the same as androgyne?” Well, no. In the form of a visual, pretend there are two tinted lenses [say, yellow and blue] and stacking them on top of each other makes green, while still being separate physically. Androgyne would be more like just having a green tinted lens, without needing to stack anything.

Anyway, how’s it like? My insight to being bigender in the real world is well, uneventful, as I don’t pass, am extremely closeted and don’t intend to come out anytime soon. Most of my experiences happen internally. I sometimes get annoyed that people use only one set of pronouns for me, because although I don’t mind he or she, I would still prefer for both to be used at about the same amount. I feel comfortable around most gendered terms, although I lean towards masculine [ex: king, brother, etc]. I get uncomfortable when people consider me/refer to me as one gender [ex: calling me just a boy/girl, repeatedly]. I do have dysphoria, both social and physical. I plan on getting surgery someday. I discovered I was bigender sophmore year of highschool. That’s roughly my experience.

Q- How can I write a bigender character?

Read everything above, so at least you have some basic knowledge about the identity. If you have additional questions, my ask box/pms are always open. I’ll be glad to help anyone out with anything bigender related really.

Some other multigenders that are similar/relate to Bigender [for those who may want to look into them]

Trigender- Like bigender, but experiencing three genders instead of two

Polygender- experiencing multiple genders but not all.

Pangender- experiencing all genders [this however, does not include genders that aren’t within your experiences/ you’re able to claim, such as genders that belong to indigenous groups/ other cultures]

Demigender- feeling partially but not totally a gender.

Genderfluid- being fluid between genders [can be any genders, any amount of them and for any amount of time]

If you feel like I need to change anything about this post, then I’m open to suggestions/criticism!

[cancerbiophd]

How I landed an industry job straight out of my life sciences PhD, without doing a post-doc 

In less than 7 weeks I’ll be defending my dissertation as a final step in my PhD in Cancer Biology, and yesterday I accepted a Scientist position at a local biotechnology company. And best part: I didn’t have to do the dreaded post-doc first! Which is pretty rare for our field (but I hope it’ll be more and more common for PhD’s going into industry).

I promised I would talk about the process here, and I hope that anyone who’s aiming for the same path can walk away with some tips or at least with a familiarity of the process. 

The main points I want to get across: 

Network network network. You can probably just stop reading here, because this job came about all through networking. I was basically head-hunted--someone in my network (a program alumnus) contacted me on LinkedIn to ask if I wanted to apply for a position on the team she directs. So set up your LinkedIn account, keep it up to date, and use it to actively network. At the very least you should connect with the alumni in your program as you all have something in common already, and since they’re out and about in the field they would be great resources for informational interviews and job referrals. 

My expertise and career goals matched the position. No brainer, of course. Even if I wasn’t contacted by the company, I would only be applying to companies I qualified for (so companies dealing with cancer since I’m my PhD is in Cancer Bio). My lab mate, for example, was finishing up his PhD in Nutritional Sciences but was applying to cancer companies with no result, because it just wasn’t the candidate those companies were looking for. My expertise was also probably what got that director’s attention in the first place and the reason she reached out. She was basically willing to wait 7 months for me (from job posting to my final start-date) because I was her ideal candidate, and not just based off my expertise alone, but our personalities matched too. She told me “we communicate well” aka our work personalities match. I know you can’t change who you are obviously, but getting along with your manager goes a long way. 

That being said, employers/PIs are flexible with start dates for PhD candidates. I applied to this position 6 months before I had my defense date set and when I only knew a ballpark of “sometime in the summer”. And then during my interview process I had to keep pushing that potential start-date back and back and back. But the company understood this. So as a PhD candidate you could start applying 6 months before your expected end-date (even if it’s still a moving target), or even months earlier for post-docs (which are much more flexible than industry positions). In general, you should start looking 1 year before your finish date to see what’s out there. 

It was also good luck/timing. If I had graduated earlier than the job posting, then I never would’ve had this opportunity. I also only added her to my LinkedIn network because I went to a lunch seminar where she gave a talk about working in industry. So small things that ultimately made a huge difference. Some you can’t control, but some (like going to that lunch) are definitely  opportunities to seize. 

I was low “flight risk”. Companies are always afraid their employees will leave the company/city for greener pastures, and that’s more common in “less popular” places to live, like the southwest desert where I’m located. But I’m from here, my grad school is here, my family’s here--so the company is making the assumption I’m not going to just up and go any time soon. You obviously can’t control where your family chooses to settle down, but you may be able to strategically choose your grad school based off of its proximity to potential companies. 

And lastly, in my experience, PhD’s with no post-doc in biotech industry should expect an annual salary somewhere between $75-95k (depending on the company and cost of living), with benefits.

Ok, my full story under cut if you’d like to know more about the process I went through:

It all started when a program alumnus (or alumna, if you’re picky about your latin) named RF talked at a lunch seminar to students in my program in Feb 2019. I was really interested in her company and knew she would be a great network to have, so I emailed her later to thank her, and then added her on LinkedIn. 

Fast forward to January of this year (2020) when RF messaged me on LinkedIn out of the blue asking me how close I was to graduating and if I would be interested in a position at her company. I think she wanted someone asap (so not me, I thought), but we talked more about my project, and she said she’d keep in touch. In February, she messaged me again saying a position opened up on her team and she wanted to see if I would like to apply. I said heck yes (or the more formal version), and sent in my application, with the expectation that I would be defending sometime in the summer. I also put her as my job referral and messaged her afterwards to let her know my application went through (with the hopes that maybe she could fast-track it through HR, which I think she did). 

In the meantime, I messaged (also on LinkedIn) another program alumnus I knew (our time overlapped a few years) who currently works with RF and we chatted on the phone about what he does at work, how he likes it there, etc. Basically an informational interview (and also to catch up as colleagues). I was also hoping he’d put in a good word for me with RF and can attest I’m a decent human being and all that. 

2 weeks later, I had a phone interview with RF, and I was super nervous going into it. I even practiced pages and pages of answers of common interview questions for a week straight. But to my surprise she opened the call with “I already know a lot about you from your CV, LinkedIn profile, and also your PhD training because we’re from the same program, so this is your chance to ask me questions!” And I was like, uhhhh awesome! The only thing she wanted to know about me was when I could start, and at that moment in time I was gunning for a July/Aug defense date. 

(I also emailed her and HR afterwards to ask them whether they could match my salary expectation, which I had researched well beforehand for what was common in the field for my position and experience, and they said they could.)

We then set up the next round of interviews for April with a colleague of RF’s who used to be in the same team but now directs her own, and RF’s boss (these would have normally been on-site, but I did them over the phone bc Covid). I again messaged my friend at the company asking if he had any tips. 

And then disaster struck! The company’s HR called me a week before those scheduled interviews to tell me the company had ordered a hiring freeze due to Covid and the effect it was having on the economy. Absolute bummer :( :( :(

So I then applied for a few more positions here and there, including some post-docs (which I really didn’t want to do). I got 2 rounds of interviews for a Scientist position at another local company, and as of today I still haven’t heard anything from them. oh well. 

Then in June I finally heard back from RF’s company saying the hiring freeze has been lifted and whether I’m still interested? Uh, heck yes! So we continued with those 2 phone interviews I had originally scheduled back in April. They both went really well. But I still continued to apply to other positions in the meantime because I wanted to have as many options as I could. 

Then 2 weeks ago (July 7) I got THE call: they wanted to offer me the position! :D

Only problem was, we needed to settle on a start-date. They of course wanted me to start like, yesterday, but my PI wanted to push back my original defense date of Aug 28 one more week to Sept 4, and also wanted me to focus on any dissertation edits for 2 weeks after that. So my earliest start-date would be Sept 21. If you remember, my defense date shifted from “sometime in the summer” to “July/August” to now September, so I was really worried the company wouldn’t accept this. I nervously waited 2 weeks for someone to call me back, and in my head I kept thinking, “I blew it I blew it”. I even sent in a job application to another company in that time. 

But RF finally called me and said hey, no problem, we can do that! She told me she was willing to wait because I really was her perfect candidate (I had all the experience she wanted, and she said we communicated well aka our work-personalities matched). She had also just recently hired another graduate from our program, who is also a friend of mine, so she knew we would all mesh together very nicely. 

And that’s the story folks! I’ll be starting the position remotely until it’s safe to return to the building again. They’re also working with my husband to see if he’s a good candidate for some of their other open positions (we’re both in the biotech field). We’re both super excited about this new chapter in our lives. 

All this because I attended the lunch seminar RF talked at all last year and then added her on LinkedIn. When people talk about opportunities lurking behind every corner, they really did mean that. 

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Any headcannons about post-akumatized leftover powers? Bonus points for inhuman akumas like Horrificator

I THOUGHT YOUD NEVER ASK AHAHA

OKAY LETS FUCKING DO THIS!  SEASON ONE HERE WE GO! IF YALL WANT MORE! TELL ME!

Aurore— Fuckinf fucking fucking static. Everywhere. Always static. Her skin is very very cold. Lightbulbs might explode if she gets pissed due to electricity

Nino—Bubbles. Everywhere. Especially Where they shouldn’t be. And he can semi control them or place things in them.

Mr Ramier—If Pigeons liked him before, they especially like them now, and he can communicate with them

Alix—Sometimes her voice overlaps and she begins to fizz out. She’ll start remembering things that didn’t happen or will happen. It’s a little maddening. Also an understanding of time travel that shouldn’t be possible.

Theo—Things start to break down faster for him. Simple things. He almost doesn’t notice. Like his tooth brush, or his pain brushes, or utensils. He also gains horrible bad luck. Its terrible.

Jalil—I’m not sure actually

Alya— INFINITE WIFI SIGNAL HAHAHAHAHAH, basically a WiFi tower yeah. I’ve sent his one float around and I love it. She can also slow things down or speed things up.

Nathaniel—His drawings move like an animation

Roger—No clue, don’t care

Kim—WINGS- FUCKING- WINGS. But they’re like, chicken wings, real small, he’s angry about this. Also his aim has gotten terrifyingly better, like, its unreal. Like He could bounce an eraser into a trash can that’s behind him and make it in.

Mylene—She can melt herself into goop, climb up walls, and probably if she gas angry enough, start to grow

D’Argencourt—I have no clue

Fred—A weaker version of his powers. He can feel the object he mines but it’s still not actually there.

Rose—”Roll for Charisma”, she has the ability to release a smoke/perfume that can make a mental suggestion

Ivan—Can toughen his skin (like Kirishima style) into rocks

Otis—Can turn parts of his body into animal features, can’t fully transform

Simon—Same as rose but with cards, also general mind reading

That Weird Creepy photo dude I forgot his name—Can freeze people with his camera

Jagged—Can create sound waves with his music, a debuffed version of his actual akuma power

Max—Can hijack technology to an insane degree. Like- imagine Sombra from overwatch

Juleka—Can shape shift to copy other people’s forms, but she can’t replicate their clothes. So it’s a Toga Himiko situation.

Manon—Can puppet her dolls

Sabrina—Can turn invisible, man Vanisher deserved more

Chloe—She’s scared to find out. She really wants to see what would happen if she said “AntiCharm”- what happens is she gets a random item that exists for about an hour before poofing. Nothing special.

Lila—Small illusions if she plays the flute

[the-power-of-stuff]

10, 18, and 23 for the author asks, please, if you still want to :)

Yeah, girl! 💗 

Okay, so I answered 18 & 23 in this post but I also wanted to challenge myself to give different answers for you, so here goes:

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I will do it all! I once cranked out an entire fic while sitting next to someone who was playing a video game. Often I find that kind of thing distracting, but sometimes it occupies just enough of my brain that I can more easily visualize what I want out of a story. Sometimes I need complete silence, and other times, if I’m sitting in silence by myself, I get sidetracked way too easily by all the different things going on in my brain at once. Sometimes music really helps me get in the writing zone, and other times I get super into the zone with the music instead of the writing and don’t get any actual writing done at all. One thing I can never do is write and chat at the same time. Like, people who are on Discord and writing simultaneously? Howwww?? 

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

Okay, this might be cheating a bit, BUT there’s this (classical) song called “Silent Noon” by Ralph Vaughan Williams, and the text of the song is a poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. I learned the song many years ago, and while learning it, I found it so touching and beautiful it made me cry. The imagery in the poem is really lush and sensory, and just so auditorily pleasing (lines like “golden kingcup fields” “cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn hedge” “close-companioned inarticulate hour”). Around the time I was writing between the striking and the fire, I was trying to get in a really sensory mindset, so I looked up “Silent Noon” and other poems by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and I actually copied a bunch of stanzas from different poems into my writing journal for inspiration. The second line of that fic is straight from Rossetti:

“The sun was just a glowing ember on the horizon now, the last stutter of breath at the bottom of a long exhale.” (from between the striking and the fire)

“In the held breath of the day’s decline / Her very face seemed pressed to mine” (from Rossetti’s “A Death-Parting”)

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

So, kinda sticking with the theme of the answer above, I’m gonna go with public performance of music as a life experience that has helped my writing. I’m not sure if that counts as obscure! But it maybe seems like the kind of thing where it’s not immediately obvious how it impacts writing? 

Like my other answer to this question, I don’t purposefully think about my experience performing music when I write, but I was thinking that there are a lot of emotions I go through when performing (powerful stage freight when I’m about to perform, intense euphoria when I’m done) that I probably draw from when trying to describe emotions in writing. As well as the experience of trying to control or deal with those emotions (like the importance of breath; or breaking down into cathartic tears well after the scary thing is over). 

It’s also possible there’s some overlap in the work itself - like the nuance of picking just the right pronunciation of a word being similar to nit-picking word choice while writing so that a line has just the right sound. Or the exposure you get to different kinds of texts and languages when studying classical music, which could contribute to preferences in syntax or word choice when writing. I’m not super confident about any of these things, but it’s interesting to think about! I mean, I’m not much of a poetry person, because I feel like I’m not strong enough at analysis to get it most of the time, but clearly my exposure to poetry through classical music has had a direct impact on my writing, or I wouldn’t have named a fic after this other Rossetti poem!

“But in half-dreams that shift and roll / And still remember to forget, / My soul this hour has drawn your soul / A little nearer yet.” (from Rossetti’s “Insomnia”)

Thank you for the ask~! 😊

[jdeowrites]

Baby’s First Book Deal

Sooo… about that YA contemporary I’ve been working on.

(x)

As a young teen, I devoured countless books, TV shows and movies where girls living in fantasy worlds were forced into skin-revealing dresses; where girls in dystopias and apocalypses shed clothes for romantic scenes; where girls in contemporary settings changed into swimsuits for an impromptu swim, all without any warning beforehand. And I couldn’t help but wonder, didn’t they ever worry about their body hair showing? Did they get waxed in between chapters and it just wasn’t worth mentioning by the author? Or was this something that didn’t matter to most people? Or did these girls just not have body hair? I remember reading The Hunger Games and thinking it was a breath of fresh air when Katniss was waxed and plucked to be deemed pretty for the Capitol. Finally it was on the page. So maybe it wasn’t all in my head after all. 

But I knew it wasn’t just in my head, because the only other time I saw body hair on femme people was when it was played off for laughs. Understandably, this all really screwed with me growing up. So maybe it’s no surprise that eventually I would decide to write a book about it.

Fast forward to early 2019: I emailed my agent with a couple of new book ideas including: “high school debaters (I used to be on the debate team and there's so much potential drama!) and body hair beauty standards for girls. Possibly both in the same book?”

I held my breath when I sent that. I needn’t have worried; she was really into the idea. I started writing it in June 2019. Which was also the start of what I suspected was going to be a very challenging school year (I was right about that for more reasons than I knew at the time). I did this on purpose because I thought it would be a light, fun book to escape into. I was partially right. It was really fun to write all the high school drama, debating, and romance. It did help me through some hard times. But it was also unexpectedly painful.

Because it was so personal. In order to confront the issue of body hair, I had to confront the shame and stigma and subconscious biases drilled into me my whole life. I had to analyze my own concept of what beauty is, and its significance to a person’s self-worth, their worth in the eyes of others, and how those things overlap. And digging so deep into my own trauma was excruciating. I had to force myself to do it sometimes… and to write it without a filter. There were times that I’d re-read a passage and think, "This is too much. I should tone it down a bit." But those were the times it was most important to me to keep going. 

It was March 2020, the early days of the pandemic, when I had a draft I had run by betas and felt good about sending to my agent. I was so nervous. Was the subject matter too cringey? Would it be too unrelatable for most people? Was it even marketable?

Well, my agent loved it a lot. She said it made her cry. Which made me cry. It was just such a relief to know that someone else could identify with this book I had been so honest in, that I had poured some of the most personal parts of my soul into.

We went on submission that summer (for the uninitiated, that means your agent submits your book to editors at publishing houses. AND THEN YOU WAIT.). I had a good feeling about it, but as always I tried to manage my expectations. That didn’t stop me checking my email every 5 seconds but, you know. An effort was made.

We were nearly two months into sub when It Happened. I won’t bore you with the details of my life, but I was in the middle of a 26 hour shift when I got an email from my agent: “Call me!” Is all she said (oh the suspense). I sort of knew at that point. I stared at that email for quite a while, debating whether to wait until the next day when I was off work to get in touch, because as it was I knew I could become busy at any moment. But I couldn’t wait, of course. Patience? I don’t know her. Anyway, I called my agent. 

She told me we had an offer, and proceeded to read it out loud. Cue me crying silently in a tiny windowless room. Literal happy tears dripping down my chin as she talked, which has never happened to me before. I didn’t know how to process it. It was a surreal night after that.

Then we let other people who had the manuscript know, and suddenly there were more editors from different houses who wanted to talk! The next week was… a lot. Along with having a series of calls with a bunch of editors, all of whom I loved to pieces, I was also dealing with a 50+ hour work week, prepping for an exam, writing the exam (in the middle of which a preempt offer came in), an 11 hour road trip, and moving to a new city. I’ll probably remember that week for the rest of my life for the utter chaos it was… but hey, it all worked out. (also, funny thing: my deal announcement came out in the middle of a cross-country road trip. publishing stuff only happens when I’m busy, apparently!).

And now I get to say words I’ve only dreamed of: My debut novel will be published in summer 2022 by Viking, an imprint of Penguin Random House! Although it’s been a long time since I received this news, every so often I remember that it’s HAPPENING—that I get to go on this journey of publication, of being a debut author—and it feels brand-new and exciting all over again. There’s so much to look forward to! And I have so many more stories I’m excited to tell.

But I’m glad this book will be my debut. Somewhere along my process of research, writing, learning, and discussing with others, this story changed the way I viewed myself. I had not thought that would happen—I set out to write this story for other people, not for me. But it happened anyway.

My singular hope for my debut novel is that it can do that for someone else. If just one hairy girl picks up this book and understands there was nothing ever wrong with them, everything was worth it. Everything. I hope that happens. 

And if not, well, this book has already changed one person’s life: mine.

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[adorabledonutunicorn]

New Eyes

CW: Some internalized homophobia

Warning: This is 15 pages on Google Docs so it’s long. This is a combination of poems I’ve written over the past year or so (if my timeline is correct) about realizing and processing through some of my past crushes. It took me til version 4 to shift my perspective and not be ashamed of how I felt about these people. It’s kind of depressing to think that it took me no less than 4 years to get rid of the shame surrounding my sexuality, and even still I have my days, but in this case it makes for a nice arc that comes to accept everything by the end. In case you’re interested here’s a brief background on each person. I’m gonna go off since it’s already the length of a chapter of a book lmao.

1. She is literally the reasons for all of this. She was someone who I’ve known since middle school because we were in the “accelerated math group” together. She was always popular, but something always struck me differently about her. During our sr year of high school I sent her a message on Facebook and we had a few conversations on there. We were the only girls in our math class by this time and tbh we had more conversations online than we ever did in-person...we even sat next to each other in class omfg.

2. This one is about a friend I met in college. She was pretty, full of joy, and has a nice smile so I’m a very simple person when it comes to being attracted to people lol. I forced myself to get over it quickly and I’m thankful we still talk sometimes despite never really hanging out outside of the Christian group we were in lol.

3. Damn, this one’s about the friend referenced in “To see her smile again”. She’s literally just too perfect and the day I realized I got butterflies when she walked into the room was the day I fully realized/accepted that okay there’s more to me than being straight. I still don’t know how or why she loved me so well.

4. This one is about a friend I met in college, literally on the first day I was there. We were both in the same orientation group and were both so awkward we somehow stuck around together all 4 years lmao. Idk if she’s just awkward around me only or everyone, but by the end I could feel some kind of unspoken tension between us, especially after we went to see a play for the theatre class we took that was about Stonewall lol. A part of me wanted to say something but another part of me thought that maybe she was in a different place in the same journey of discovering her sexuality. The funniest part is that on Valentine’s Day I think a year ago we DM’ed on Instagram for 5 hours str8 (gay).

5. Aah yes, just another one of my Twitter crushes. Jk the first Twitter crush oooh! It took me like a good 6 months to fully accept said crush and like another 6 months to fully get over it. Truly I wish her all the best and all the healing.

V1.0

Once upon a time, These eyes grazed the truth

They saw the surface They saw someone With so much purpose

A life with a heart Transcending barriers and A mind with the ability To achieve great things

A person so pure Hiding their true self within Yet solid and confident in Serving

It was this willingness Intelligence Freedom To get lost in music and dance Goodness Integrity That led me to believe You were one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen.

And this, Is the truth that these eyes Could see

Objectively, Honestly, Truthfully, As transparently as Any teacher Any observer Any friend Knew you to be.

Yet still, My mind seems To have forsaken me.

What I know now Is what I failed to admit then What I replay in my head Is what I am slowly learning To accept within

It brings me shame To let these emotions Finally come in

And it brings me pain, Because that's not how I want to remember How and why This was perhaps, the "best" end.

I want to remember The objective observations The person we all saw, Not just me

I want to remember Rightfully, The words you said to me

I want to remember How I tried to look inside you So deeply

And how you gracefully Eloquently Opened up to me.

All I hope Is that these memories mean At least half of what they do to you As they do to me.

Even if I Can now look in this mirror And see, Say these words to myself Breathe And let them be,

I will never forget What you meant To everyone You met.

But because I tried To look so deep Because I tried To love you as you were, As you are I ended up finding something Only these eyes now Could see.

I cannot say That I fell in love With a fantasy

Because love Is so vast and deep

But there was A new feeling inside of me An emotion I would hide Because I never wanted it to be Outside For anyone To see.

I look back at these moments That replay inside my mind From every bathroom anxious tear I cried Unknowingly Became the catalyst For this "why"

Why was I so anxious And afraid? But that won't explain Why did I even feel The way that I did?

I didn't want to I pushed it down So easily It took me almost 5 years To finally accept This story That lingered inside of me.

Once I see A heart, soul, human life To love, I jump in wholeheartedly

Because I guess That is just who I am, Who I was made to be.

But I didn't expect That I'd be here Confronting these Treacherous conflicting feelings That to the casual observer Make it seem like It was all for me, Self-motivated Self-intentioned Just to set my eyes on something I could not define At the time.

If not me If I can't believe it, I hope you know Remember And see That regardless of what I felt The words we never said Still give you more Than a thousand reasons To keep on breathing And to keep on being The beautiful person We all knew You'd grow to be.

V2.0

Imagine What this heart can do Imagine What this heart can feel What these eyes Can see inside Before the mind Redraws the lines.

Imagine God's truth Willfully entering the soul Revealing more

Than I could ever know But all that I feel Is beyond words.

Imagine That what is beyond words Is not beyond shame

In fact, Shame has now met these emotions And tainted this love, The love the Lord has given To this heart of mine

This love that was pure Of good intention Is now questioned, Because of the reality, My reality, The way my mind sees

I can only perceive What these eyes gaze upon And the brain processes, filters, Through its many recognized colors

I cannot see What was not meant for me And what is Beyond me.

With these eyes, Imperfect and perhaps blind, They let me look upon a face Labeling it within me as shame Instead of grace

I used to be able to see, What I thought so innocently, Now a darkened fiend Of what was made A friend

What has now surfaced Became lies What has harbored Is judgment Internally, And nocturnal I have become

This is merely Not what I wanted to see But rather A predator where it meets its prey Onlooking the target Ready to strip Its life away

But here, This life is dignity Of the soul across the room Once the prime and primitive Instincts and defense mechanisms activate, There is no more reason, No way That words will ever be able To explain.

This Feels lost Feels lonely Like no one but me Will understand clearly That I love Deeply Wholly I dare say beautifully Whether or not these feelings Are just my feelings Or beyond Only my reality.

Because reality Is subjective Different between both you and me But somehow still We may find common ground Where the images our minds outline Overlap and see the same

It is here, where more than I Can finally understand. It is here, Where words are no longer the enemy But the potion and antidote To this shame

For this shame Has met humility Vulnerability The courage To be me

Even if The whole world will never know I know the whole world Will never understand, I still stand With my heart tall Convicted with truth Rooted in the Lord's Truth That you are so beyond and Better than beautiful It fills me With awe.

V3.0

These new eyes that have seen Change unfolding Have also seen Love unraveling.

From all the sweetness And fondness Of pure untarnished memories, To what I don't know if I know How to see,

This is me Raw and untouched Naked and ashamed To have loved The friend who was Never meant For me.

Blessed was I To have found one So faithful and kind For once not out of reach But yet still Out of my league With all the riches Of intelligence to joy And of course A smile that was not For the faint of heart to see

I have loved before, For it was here I found love In the purest form First, foremost, Of friendship

It was here Where every good thing That resonated inside me Grew tenfold With this unknown blessing That I had fathomed to know Beyond blessings ever received.

Yet, Little did I know, It took courage To love this way. Selfless Never ill-intentioned I tried to be Until the end.

It was generously That she gave me And so kindly Yet humbly I tried to give back Never feeling like What I gave was enough, As she so gracefully Accepted everything Speaking to me without words It was more than enough.

There is not a single soul That I have met Who could ever be Her Anything like her, Who could also be Or will likely ever be My friend.

It was on the days We left, Where our presences departed Where I had no regrets

But it was then When I realized The sadness and grief Was yet the loss Of love, Including the Lord's Love.

It was she, Who lamentably taught me How butterflies felt Inside me All the way To fear and shame Of this very discovery

As well as The best hugs Any person may probably ever give me.

There is no one like her, And there is no one better for her Than her husband, And this I know, It is he who I know To be faithful, kind, Courageous, righteous, Steadfast and Unconditionally loving

But somehow, I ask the Holy Spirit Did you bring her Here To teach me About love, faithfulness, and joy? Did you bring her Here To show me light in the world Once more? Did you bring her here To have a friend for once, To give me courage to speak, To love a friend deeply? And did you bring her here So that I could love so deeply That I found this part of me?

I can still say To this day That I have No regrets About anything I Have written or said To this friend, The greatest gift, A catalyst For this journey, And the one who gives The best hugs With the sweetest smiles I’ll ever be blessed to receive.

V4.0

Once where A new era began, A seed was planted In the mere probability of our existence

We did not find each other We stumbled upon one another In a way where awkwardness Was the main contributor To our similarities

Yet you stayed And I of course, stayed Somehow we relished In a relieving familiarity

Perhaps, It brought us together For that reason.

But what we had And what we have Has grown from a seed,

Watered, waiting We are here Where I never thought we would be: Friends now far away, Yet still able to relate

But even then What does it mean? It may not mean much of anything.

For a fleeting feeling Lines the nerves of my being Extremities tense While the rest of me at peace

For this is the only awkwardness We have known to overcome, Time and time again, —I never know Where your thoughts go

There is so much to be learned So much we will never know But in each other, We have still grown.

Maybe this is the best feeling I would never have known If I were not able To express it freely

Maybe one day Our lives not our hearts Will collide Telling the same story Of who we were always meant to be.

V5.0

To Jade, A jewel of always Every color but green,

Your story is a wonderful epic, Tales of travels That never grow old

They write an unapologetic narrative Of every highest mountain top And every lowest valley

You have climbed as high Just as much as you Have fallen down and cried

And I, I so wished to see and to learn Of every broken piece to your life That you thought you needed to earn

But I, Even with good intentions Fell into a hole I could not climb

I embraced every part At the expense of my joy Only adding To my despair

But you taught me What strength and courage Could be

To say it is easy To wake up every day Without the one Who loved you most Is irreparable As much as he was irreplaceable

To say the scars it leaves behind Are mere wounds of the flesh to be tended to Would simply be a lie

But still I Fell in love with What it could look like To see you wake up every morning And choose life

For there is nothing more brave As the story you write And continue to write.

I still stand by And wish to look upon your life To see how far you've come

But at least I've passed beyond The emotions I feared would last forever

Back then I was confused Back then I was still learning And I thank you for helping me Find who I am

Even if I can never say I fell as deep for love's sake, If I ever find you Stumble upon Or see you I will find the reddest rose And gift it to you

For the honor and memory of your brother And for the honor and memory of you Because sometimes words Will never be enough To describe what will always Be blooming in you (And how you've allowed me To blossom too).

Conclusion / V1.5

Without what happened that night These essays would never have turned to poems

Without the words we never said I wouldn’t have these reasons why I write

You are still as beautiful as the day I met you And the day I left you when I accepted You will remain a memory, not a friend meant for forever Or even for a second

But still, I do not hesitate To smile and be embarrassed Knowing now all That I did not know then That brings clarity, closure, and an end.

I never loved you But I definitely liked you Enough to zone in on Every beat of your heart

Enough to make you see Who you were always made to be And how worthy you are To be you, To be everything you are.

And so here I remain, Content and at peace Knowing I am allowed To never-more be ashamed.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Threatening a human does not end well

The Cosmic Federation was a governing body that composed of some 87 different species which at times ruled over a single planet to seven entire solar systems. The Federation’s purpose was to maintain peace and stability throughout the galaxy and was hailed as the shinning beacon of freedom and justice. In reality it was nothing more than a front for power hungry governments.  There was a time when the Federation still had some teeth and was actually respected. However, over the years the power of the federation was chipped away at by none other than its members themselves, granting more and more autonomy to members until the real power was held by some ten species in the Cosmic Federation. Each one with their power base and sphere of influence which often overlapped causing feuds and at the worst of times open conflict. The only thing that kept them in check was incidentally each other. Whenever one of the ten would begin rising higher than the others the rest would converge on them and chop them down to size. That was the way it had always been, until now...... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The room on board the pleasure yacht was as opulent as it was breath taking, but nestled on the top deck of the ship was the most prized room of all. A glass dome on the top bathed in the light of the surrounding nebula. The waves of vibrant greens and yellows coupled with the softest of reds made the entire room look like a living work of art. Truly majestic sight...that was entirely lost on the people currently in the room, one of whom was so caught up in rechecking the table for the twelfth time.   “Is everything ready? We only have one chance to win them over.”  Misilla straightened the silverware one more time then stepped back to examine her work once again. The table was set for five of them with their guest being given the seat of “honor” at the head of the table. She had done her background on their guest and his peoples traditions indicated that the one at the head of a table held the most power.  “You should really let the help take care of that.” Misilla was too busy to turn around and acknowledge Brumark’s statement. He was standing around a waiting table off to the side of the room pouring two drinks. He handed one to Tilith beside him and took the other for himself. “Agreed.” Tilith said as she sipped it through her mandibles. “We are people of stature, we have help for such lowly tasks.”  Misilla slightly shifted a napkin and glass to the right before stepping back one more and letting out a sigh of relief. She went over to the two of them and poured herself a drink now as well. She took it and downed it in a single go. “The help sometimes make mistakes, I do not. That is why when something important comes up, I take care of it so it is perfect.” Brumark rolled his eyes and made to pour another drink when Misilla did it for him. “Your peoples micromanaging will be the death of you one day you know.” He chuckled. “My peoples micromanaging is what gave us a 20% increase in trade profits last quarter while your people have had to apply for no less then 17 intergalactic loans from my people.” She smirked at Brumark’s blushing face.  The scene playing out between the three of them was one not many would believe. Misilla was a Parziean, a race of blue skinned humanoid beings where the females dominated society. Brumark was from a people also confusingly called “Brumark’s”. It was a weird tradition of his people that all would be named after their god, Brumark. However, his people did have the exclusive ability to change pitch when pronouncing the name so that to them they can instantly distinguish each other. He was large and grey skinned with a Mohawk running from his head down his back. Tilith was the most odd among them as she was a member of the insectoid Hive. Her appearance was that of a humanoid body fused to the top of a spider body. Her people had initially attempted to expand violently but quickly realized that an entire galaxy turning against them was a terrible idea. So they sued for peace and switched to the long game. Even going so far as to partially cover their insect face to put others at ease, the silver strands that ran down her face rustled every time her mandibles moved when she spoke.  Each of them were members of the inner ten that ran the Federation from the shadows, and each of them would never be seen together in the open. It ran the risk of exposing them and if one of them was caught they would become a huge risk to the others. This was a special occasion however, even all three of them chatting like friends and having drinks was part of the plan to win over their guest. They needed them to feel as if they could trust them, that they could be relied on, and that becoming partners with them would be to their benefit.  The doors to the room open and all three of them turned to see who was entering. The fourth member of their little group stepped in, Joba. He was a squat and piggish in appearance, but his people were some of the finest miners and bankers the galaxy had ever seen. His fingers were adorned with a wide variety of gems that sparkled like a rainbow and wore a robe of the finest silk.  As he saw the three he raised his arms to them. “Ah my friends! I am glad to see you have already started the party without me. I was worried you would become bored with my delay.” Brumark raised his glass. “Joba my friend, if I had been truly bored I would have drunk half your supply by now and be passed out the floor!” He let out a booming laugh that all of them joined in on.  “My friends, let me introduce our honored guest.” Joba stepped aside and waved in the figure behind him. A clacking sound could be heard as the figure stepped out from the shadow of the door frame and into the light. The simple walking stick is what first drew the attention of the three. A simple wooden staff with a birds head carved into the headpiece, a “eagle” they think it was called. Next were the clothes, simple but with a hint of the guests former military career showing off them as they were wrinkle free and pressed to near perfection, something that Misilla took note of instantly. Finally rising to look their guest in the face they saw the mustached face of the human representative Earl von Morgan, a former military general who had been recently elected to speak for his people. As he approached the three he extended his hand. “It is an honor to finally meet my fellow members, and such respected ones at that.” Earl spoke with a thick German accent. Brumark stepped forward and shook Earl’s hand, though given the size difference it was safer to say Brumark’s hand enveloped Earl’s and they just shook. “The honor is mine. I read over your history, you were a great warrior to your people.” Burmark saw an angry look on Joba’s face at the past tense mention but before Brumark could correct himself Morgan laughed. “You are too kind my friend. I was but a general at the end of my career. The most dangerous thing I had to do at the time was avoid getting paper cuts while signing forms!” Morgan laughed again and Brumark joined in.  Next Morgan moved to Misilla. As she extended her hand Morgan took it and bowed down to kiss it. Misilla was taken aback slightly by this and did not know how to react. Seeing the expression on her face Morgan realized he may have offended her. “Forgive me if I have disgraced you, my people’s customs are deeply ingrained in me. On my planet this is how a man greets a woman respectfully.” He followed up with a bow. “You truly are a gentleman Mr. Morgan.” Misilla chimed and bade him to rise. “It is I who should be apologizing. I find it rare among my people to find a male with such degrees of respect and was taken aback.” He rose and smiled at her.  Finally Tilith stepped forward but did not extend her hand. “I understand my species is considered horrific to many others and would not wish to force you into a situation you detested.” Morgan looked puzzled for a second before smiling again. “My dear, beauty is always in the eye of the beholder. One should not hide themselves for you hide yourself from those that wish to gaze upon your beauty.” He extended a hand towards her regardless and Tilith looked at it for a moment before taking it and watched puzzled as he repeated the same gesture of bowing and kissing her talon hand. “You know,” he said as he rose, “there are people on my planet that would find you most attractive.” Tilith tilted her head to the side. “Surely you jest.” Morgan shook his head. “I swear to you that I am not. I dare say some would be lining up to try and court you.” Tilith continued looking at him in silence to see if he was telling the truth while the others remained silent, unsure how to respond to this awkward situation.  Morgan released her hand and continued smiling at her. “Remind me to tell you after our meeting about a place called “Japan” on my world.” “That is most flattering of you to say and I must say I am intrigued.” she said as she bowed, her mind now distracted with questionable ideas the human had put in her head.  Joba stepped in. “Now that we have introductions out of the way I insist we must eat!” He motioned everyone to their seats. As he led Morgan to his seat Morgan suddenly stopped. “I couldn’t possibly sit at the head of the table.” He said while looking down at Joba. Joba looked concerned as if he had slipped up something in his research before Morgan continued. “You are the host of this party, it would be incredibly rude of me to take the head seat.” Joba let out a sigh before patting Morgan on the back. “Come now my friend, you are our guest! Please, I insist!” He waved him over once again and Morgan finally relented and accepted the seat and gazed down at the others.  “Now, for our first dish.....” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After several meals all of the guests were content.  “Did you enjoy the meal?” Misilla asked Morgan. He patted his stomach and happily gazed back up at Misilla. “The food was so good it made me honestly consider getting surgery to enlarge my stomach so I can have more. Please pass along my compliments to your cooks.” She smiled at the remark. “ I am sure they will be most flattered to hear your words.”  Misilla reached for a bell on the table and rang it. A group of servants rushed into the room without a word and quickly removed all of the plates and cutlery from the table while laying out new drinks and glasses before leaving again.  Joba poured himself a drink. “Now that the meal is out of the way it is time to discuss the real matter for this meeting.” As the others poured themselves drinks shutters began closing around the glass dome cutting off the light until only the candle light was present.  Joba moved to pour a new drink for Morgan who politely declined. “I had a feeling there was more to this meeting than just a introduction.” “Indeed there is my friend.” Joba put down a device and with a spark of light it suddenly projected a map of the galaxy. Color coded borders soon began forming and showed the displacement of the larger governing bodies. “It is widely known that the worst kept secret in the Cosmic Federation is that there exists an inner group of members that holds all the true power. What isn’t known is who those members are specifically.”  He gestured to the other members at the table. “We, are four of those members.” They all looked towards Morgan for a response but he merely clasped his hands and looked on in silence.  “Recently,” Joba continued,”one of the other ten has become increasingly profitable and threatens the balance between the other nine.” “I assume you are referring to the Poltarks?” All of them stared at Morgan in surprise. “How did you know?” “We humans may be a young species but we are not a stupid one. We can put two and two together.” Morgan chuckled at their confused faces.  Joba coughed and continued. “Yes. Despite our warnings the Poltarks have been increasing in power over the last generation to the point that they are now easily as powerful as three of the ten put together. If this is left unchecked they could become a threat to all of us.”  “So why do you need my help?” Morgan cut in. Brumark turned to him and laughed. “What makes you think we need your help?” Morgan smiled. “Like I said, we humans can put together two and tow at times and this scene isn’t really knew to my people either.” He gestured to everyone. “A new member suddenly meeting with the top leaders out of the blue, topped with how all of you have been so polite to me. You’re trying to butter me up and win me over.”  None of them spoke. It seems that humans were more politically savvy then was initially thought. “We do not need your help in taking down the rouge member,” Tilith said,”we are more than powerful enough to do that ourselves.” “What we need from you is to merely stand aside.” Misilla said as she leaned over the table slightly. Morgan looked at her and smirked as he saw through her terrible attempt at being seductive.  “You share the largest border with the Poltarks. We were hopping you could convince your leadership to stand aside when we make our move. In return, well, we’ll have an open seat on the ruling ten that will need to be filled.”  Joba smiled as he outstretched his hand to Morgan. “What do you say?”  There was a long silence as Morgan looked down at Joba’s hand. He chuckled. “Thank you for the dinner but I am afraid I will have to decline your offer.” Joba’s hand twitched slightly. “I beg your pardon?” “I said humanity will not be taking you up on your offer, tempting as it may be. Though I do hope we can build better relationships to further understanding between our peo-” “SHUT IT!” Joba shouted, smashing his hand down on the table. “HOW DARE YOU YOU RUNT!” Morgan was unphased by Joba’s outburst and it looked like he would continue before Misilla put a calming hand on his shoulder.  “May I ask why you decline?”  Morgan shrugged. “Simply put we have a defensive alliance pact with with the Poltarks for several years now. We have no just cause to break it and are obligated to defend them if they are attacked.”  “Secondly, given how easily your inner circle seems to turn on each other at the slightest change, even being a member would hardly be a stable footing for us to build relationships on considering you all would be likely to destroy humanity at any moment.”  “And finally,” Morgan letting out a smirk, “it never seemed to dawn on any of you why the Poltarks had become so increasingly powerful out of the blue.” He glanced around the room at their confused faces. “For all your research into human culture you didn’t even spend time researching our trade agreements did you?” Still, only faces of confusion met him.  “Oh my Gott. You really are going to make me spell it out aren’t you? Humanity has been trading with the Poltarks, we’re the reason they became so powerful.”  The others looked on in shock. “Impossible!” Brumark said. “It is hard to believe given your...” Tilith began before stopping herself. “It’s alright, we know we are technologically inferior to you all.” Morgan chipped in. “But it turns out we have a cash crop that the galaxy loves and only grows on earth for some reason. Everybody loves the potato so we use the Poltarks as a go between to sell it and then get a cut of the profits while they get a booming trade industry.”  “That does not make sense.” Misilla cut in. “Why would you give them a monopoly when you could have it all for yourself?” Morgan shrugged. “Simply put we are testing the waters.We can cut the supply at any time but for now we are content getting a cut and a powerful ally in the mix.”  “This changes things then.” Joba said quietly. Morgan nodded and rose from his seat. “I’m glad I could change your minds about your move against the Poltarks.” “Allow me to show you back to your ship.” Tilith said as she also rose from her seat. “I would be delighted to share the pleasure of your company a bit longer Hive Lord Tilith.” he said while smiling. Her head cocked to the side for a moment making morgan smile even more. “I did my research on you all as well my friends.”  The two began moving towards the door to leave.  “You misunderstood me Earl von Morgan.” Joba cut in as they pair had just reached the door. “I said it changes things, but I did not say how.” He flicked the controls on the holographic map to show the Poltraks territory being carved up and divided. “We’ve tried playing nice, now we play dirty. If you do not adhere to our demands and remain out of the coming conflict, you will be next.” The map began changing showing human territory being attacked and divided up as well. “Do you understand runt?”  Morgan’s smile faded away. “I’m sorry.” He said as he began walking back to Joba, his cane clanking ever louder as he got closer. “It seems in my old age my hearing is failing me.” He stood before Joba who still sat down in his seat. “I could not hear you from way,” he motioned to the door where Tilith was waiting,” over there. But it sounded like you were threatening me Joba. Surely though I was mistaken.” It was Joba’s turn to smirk as he took his glass and sipped from it. “You heard right you stupid primate. Do what we say, or you will be the next to fall.” Morgan glanced at Misilla and Burmark. “And you two feel the same?” They said nothing, but nodded. “Right...well then.”  Calmly, Morgan detached the head of his cane which turned out to be the handle for a concealed revolver. In one swift motion he shot the glass Joba was holding in his hand sending glass fragments flying. Misilla dove under the table and Brumark made to rise before Morgan leveled the gun at him. Brumark froze in place until Morgan motioned for him to sit down.  Joba was still staring at his hand that was now bleeding from the shattered glass and mumbling incoherent words.  “Smart enough to get a gun past your fancy guards and detection fields though, aye Joba?” Morgan leaned down to say into Joba’s ear. “Do I have your undivided attention now?” Joba nodded rapidly. He turned to Brumark. “What about you, do I have your attention?” Brumark nodded. Morgan looked for Misilla who was still hiding under the table. “My dear if I had wanted to kill you I would have shot you first. Now will you please take your seat.” She slowly got up from under the table and sat down. “Was that meant to comfort me?” she asked shakily. “I’ll admit it’s not my best line, but it got you out from under the table.”  He took a step back and sat back down at the head of the table, his gun still leveled at Brumark. “I honestly want us to be friends.” he said, his pearly teeth showing. “So as a friend I will give you all this warning and hope you will take it seriously.” After confirming he had their full attention Morgan continued. “Do not interfere with Humanity or our allies. But more to the point, do not ever, ever, think you can threaten us by saying you will destroy us. You think you know the meaning of the word but I assure you my people have lived it and we are more than happy to share our understanding of its meaning should any of you be foolish enough to drag us into a war. We will not just meet you on the battlefield, oh no, that would be too easy.”  He tapped the gun against the table.  “We would meet you in your homes as well. And your places of work, and your schools, and your supermarkets, your parks, your water treatment facilities, your power plants, your space docks, your farms and fields, your hospitals, and your places of worship.” He emphasized the last point while staring down Brumark.  “We will turn your entire world into a warzone and any notion of peace and stability will be thrown out the window as every morning you will wake up in fear if your next meal has been poisoned, will your vehicle suddenly explode when you start it up, will that friendly looking neighbor of your strangle you as you walk by. A life of fear will be your new domain.”  They looked at Morgan’s face to see that he was dead serious.  “I am an old man, far out of his prime.” Morgan gestured to himself, waving the gun up and down his body. “Yet I was able to sneak a weapon into a room with some of the most powerful leaders in the galaxy on their most “secure” boat.”  “It’s a yacht actually.” Misilla stammered, unable to stop herself. Morgan nodded to her. “Pardon my error Lady Misilla. I was able to sneak a loaded weapon on to your yacht and should I have wanted murdered all of you and then stroll out of here.” “You do not want to see what our black ops division operatives can do when they are actually in their prime. They’d have your governments gutted in a week and have the weekend off for partying over your rotting corpses.”  He pointed the gun back at Joba. “Do we have an understanding?” Joba’s eyes flashed between the gun and Morgan. “Yes, yes we have an understanding.” Morgan tucked the gun away into his cane and began walking back to Tilith. “Excellent. I just bought this suit and I wasn’t really in the mood to have to explain to the dry cleaner why it was covered in blood.” He reached Tilith and extended an arm. “Shall we my Hive lord?”  She looked back at the table and then back at Moran. She gently wrapped a talon hand around his arm. “We shall.”  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They both walked in silence back to Morgan’s ship. Tilith glanced over at him every now and only saw his gentle smile as he gazed at the passing artworks hanging from the walls.  “Tell me,” she said after finally working up the courage,”why did you not threaten me as well?”  Morgan laughed as he continued walking. “Because out of all of them I could see you were the only one with any actual interest in my people.” This puzzled Tilith. “How did you come about that conclusion?”  He raised his cane and nudged it towards his eyes. “I could see it in your eyes my dear Hive Lord.” “But you can barely see them through my shroud?”  Morgan shrugged. “True, but having eight of them does help with that.”  He turned to face her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. With so many eyes what do your species glasses look like? Or do you wear contacts instead?” Tilith laughed honestly for the first time in a long time. Here she was with a man who had just threatened the most powerful people in the galaxy with a gun, and yet he was as calm as a river asking about glasses.  “I will tell you only if you uphold your promise from earlier and tell me of this “Japan”. It is rare for my people to be welcomed openly so this place does intrigue me.”  “Of course I will, and dare I say that I also think this is the start of a friendship that will rock the galaxy to its core.”