#i have a lot of friends who have done unpaid internships

[thedisablednaturalist]

Zookeepers could never go on strike cause that means their beloved animal coworkers would die. The national zoo relies a lot on underpaying their zookeepers and relying on unpaid internships and volunteers. I'm sure many other zoos are like this as well. It should be a part of AZA accreditation that zookeepers are paid according to their educational and work experience. Most of these guys are required to have at least a masters. And are paid $15 an hour OR LESS. And DC isn't a cheap place to live.

The zoo lives and breathes off of the passion of these people.

I actually got to talk to the previous director (who now was directing a different big zoo) and I asked two questions:

1. How can disabled people get jobs at your zoos, what jobs would be accessible to someone like me (wheelchair user)

2. What are your plans on increasing paid internships and wages for zookeepers?

The first one she said that working with the aquatic species or small reptiles would be best, since the reptile house is accessible despite being older. She said she would think about it and get back to me (she never did, but tbf shes extremely busy and I didn't continuously ping her)

2. They've been having meetings and workgroups trying to figure out how to increase pay and paid opportunities especially for people from low-income areas, as they are less able to take unpaid internships as they need to support themselves. Zoo budgets are extremely tight even for the Smithsonian.

Now idk if that's true, I'm sure it's mostly true at least, and most of the blame is on the government for not providing more funding to these places and instead most funding goes to the military and giving the rich fat tax cuts.

It just feels like most of us in the environmental and conservation field are extremely underpaid for the work we do. And if we strike our beloved animals and environments suffer.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Weird question but do you think its possible to become a zookeeper without a degree? I'm 29 and don't have the time, energy, or money to go back to college and fear I've missed my chance at my dream career. I'm not sure how to get experience or what I could possibly do to help my resume.

It’s definitely possible! Not super common, but possible - and much more so than it would have been a couple of years ago.

When I was in college (early 2010s) and wanting to enter the field, there was a pretty clear pipeline: four year degree, unpaid summer internships, then apply for a part-time or temp position somewhere, and volunteer somewhere until you get a first job. This is still somewhat of the way it’s done at bigger AZA facilities.

But, interestingly enough, things are changing. There’s two things really driving that. The first is the massive push for increased DEAI efforts in the zoo industry. After the big commitments AZA and many individual zoos made during the BLM protests in 2020, one of the big conversations that started was how inequitable zoo hiring and especially internship programs are. Requiring four years degrees and large amounts of unpaid labor before getting a job - and paying poverty wages once someone gets that job - biases success entering and staying in the zoo field towards people with generational wealth. I honestly didn’t think the advocacy that stemmed from those discussions would do much, and I’ve been very pleasantly surprised to see that I was wrong! There’s a been a lot of real movement towards creating paid internships and making hiring requirements more equitable. It isn’t happening everywhere, but I know it’s becoming more and more common (and last year there was a ton of presentations about this on the AZA annual meeting schedule, which is a huge deal). The other thing that’s happening is less formal, but equally fascinating. I’ve been present for a lot of discussions about how there’s a disconnect between what zoos are hiring for (formal education, complex resumes) and what skills the job actually requires. It seems like it’s easier to train people to work with animals and learn their behavior than it is to teach people practical skills like how to do manual labor without hurting themselves and operate heavy machinery. I’ve seen some discussions of how some of their most successful new staff have come from adjacent industries or even just other “blue-collar” jobs that involve similar types of work, regardless of what their academic background is. Which is great! Because that adds to equity and diversity of staff across the industry.

To start off the rest of my answer, there has to be a disclaimer that I’m not in hiring, so I can’t say for sure what will get you a job (and while I’ve volunteered and interned, I have never been formally hired as staff by a zoological facility). So my advice for the rest of this comes from watching and listening to a whole ton of industry folk for the past decade or so, and from what I’ve seen my friends do that’s been successful to get jobs in the field.

In terms of experience, the best thing you can do - and I hate to say this, because it does require a level of privilege to be able to do - is volunteer somewhere. It doesn’t have to be at a zoo. Anything that will give you some animal experience for a resume and references will be valuable: shelters, vet offices, riding barns, farms, even 4H. You need to be able to demonstrate that you’ve worked around a variety of species (even if they’re all domestic) and have people who can speak to the fact that you’re diligent, attentive to detail, and have common sense about things like safety protocols. If you can’t volunteer, try to find a job in any of these areas with similar skills. Or where you can learn them! Say you can’t get an animal care job, but you’re good at phones and people - you could get a desk job at an animal shelter, and help out with cleaning and animal enrichment when possible. Boom! Experience!

It’s also important to learn how to shape your current job experience to an application, which is something I can talk more about and maybe pull in advice from folk actually in hiring for. There’s a ton that can be applicable to animal jobs. Office work? You can probably speak to experience with proprietary software systems and record-keeping (which is a bigger deal than you’d think). Construction / landscaping / similar physical labor jobs? You know how to work hard in a range of weather conditions, keep a project on spec, have experience with complex project planning, and probably know a thing or two about basic safety stuff (don’t store heavy things above your head, lift with your legs, etc). You’re basically looking to communicate “I haven’t worked in this field, but here’s all the skills I have that will translate to this job.”

Realistically, if you’re coming in without a degree or a ton of animal experience, you’re much more likely to be able to get a job at smaller, non-AZA facilities to start (they might not even be zoos - there’s sanctuaries and petting zoos and all sorts of other professional animal care gigs). And this is fine and good! There’s lots of good ones out there. You can always use experience gained there to move up in the field, if it’s your dream to work at an AZA facility specifically. And a lot of people do that - you’ll hear some places talk about how they know they’re training zoos, because their staff get a foot in the door and then consistently leave for other facilities after a couple years. But there’s also a lot of reasons to stay with some of the smaller facilities. They’re often in areas with cheaper cost of living, and so a zookeeping salary will go farther. I’ve also seen that a lot of the smaller facilities - ones where like, staff know and interact with the zoo director frequently - tend to take better care of their staff. They may not be able to increase salary, but I’ve seen some of those facilities go the extra mile for their people in other ways when it’s possible. It’s a very different experience than being a small cog in the giant machines that are many AZA zoos. It’s the sort of thing you have to vet carefully, but when you find a small facility that really invests in it’s people, it can be very worthwhile.

You also have to think about the fact that you don’t have to start in zookeeping to get an animal care job! I’ve seen a lot of people start in education or in summer camp staff, and then use the relationship with the facility and their track record in those jobs to transition into animal care. Especially education, if you’ve got the skill-set, because you’re often working with ambassador animals or in collaboration with the teams that care for them. I’ve seen some people start in facilities or ground crew, too, but I think that’s less common. Getting your foot in the door somehow and building relationships is one of the biggest parts of getting a job in the field if you’re not following the traditional pipeline.

If you’re near enough to a smaller facility that you can visit regularly, do. Learn as much as you can about the zoo and what they do and what they’re involved in, to show that you’re interested and invested, and then go talk to someone there. Tell them exactly what you told me: this is a dream, and you’re really interested in their facility specifically, and you’re wondering what you should do to build a resume to apply for a job there. At worst, you’ll get some advice. At best, they might take a chance on you. I’ve heard of it happening. (The hardest part of this is, honestly, figuring out who to talk to - it’s not the sort of thing where you can just ask a keeper while they’re cleaning. But you can find opportunities, and then ask if there’s someone in management who might have time to answer a couple questions.)

So in short: yes. It’ll take some work and time, and probably some free labor, but it’s doable. More so now than any other time recently. Good luck!

[mement0--m0ri]

This semester is by far the hardest semester I've completed so far (and this includes doing 7 subjects at a time in Germany last semester). But I'm starting to get my final results back and I crushed it! I'm so proud of myself right now for how well I've managed to hold it together between not sleeping for days at a time and my cat being not well (she is 16years old now and I know I don't have much time left with her).

On top of all that I've started therapy again, my sister came out to our parents and had some mental health stuff that we all needed to work on as a family to support her, my best friend is a state away these days and its not always easy to get her on the phone due to the hours she works as a paramedic.

It's been a lot.

I'm really looking forward to spending the whole next semester on placement (internship). It's a little daunting knowing I need to complete 500 hours (unpaid, yay!) over the next couple of months in an industry I've learnt a lot about, but have no real world experience in to a point. I will be working with people with disabilities, which I have a lot of first hand knowledge on, and I have taken a lot of disability focused courses when they are offered. So in my head I'm trying to convince myself that I will be fine. But, IDK, placement is different than starting a job. Most jobs I've had have lead to the degree I'm completing, but I don't have hands on experience which makes my imposter syndrome flare up. The company I'm placed with only takes students with lived experience with disability which I think is amazing. As a disabled person, I've seen first hand the need for social workers who have more than a textbook understanding of how even the smallest thing affects your whole life.

In other news, I went to a poetry slam last night, and it somehow feels like the gayest thing I've ever done?? (she says after sleeping with women for years). Anyway, it was a really great night and I really enjoyed myself. The local one is on once a month, so I think I'm going to try and make the effort to go when I can. I also joined a queer writing group in my local area which is really cool. They are all so lovely, and it feels good to make more queer friends. Or just friends in general. I tend to be a bit of a loner lately, which really doesn't bother me, but its nice on occasion to spend time out of the house with new and interesting people.

I've also been forcing myself to get out and about more often since semester ended. I've been spending a lot of time at the beach, which is weird for me because I've never thought of myself as a beach person. But in Germany, I really realised how much I missed just being near water. Where I was living in Fulda, there was a lake near my student accommodation that I used to walk to and just spend hours sitting near writing and studying. I guess now that I'm home, the beach has become a calming and safe space for me. I like to go first thing in the morning when I'm awake, watch the sun come up over the waves, then I usually go for a walk for an hour or so.

My goal for next month is to find some other places to visit. As much as I'm enjoying the beach, I want to get back to hiking around my local area more. Get back to nature a little I think.

Anyway, for literally no one but myself, this has been a June life update.

[graziadiocenterilpostino]

Alumni Spotlight: Francesca Ricciardelli

1. Tell us a little bit about yourself and your background. How did you become interested in your studies?

While raising my brothers and me, my parents would read a lot around us, and as a result I grew up enjoying reading and I have been curious about other cultures and histories, and later on languages as well. After my studies at a grammar school in Italy, Liceo Classico, I became even more interested in languages, linguistics and literature. Furthermore, I used to attend a private language school where my English drastically improved, and my confidence in speaking it at a young age became fundamental in my decision to pursue a BA in English and French language, literature and linguistics at the Alma Mater Studiorum University of Bologna. After volunteering and later getting an internship teaching Italian to migrants and tourists in Bologna, I decided to continue my studies at Ca’ Foscari in Venice, where I got an MA in English with a focus on Language Science and Foreign/Second Language Acquisition. While completing another (unpaid, academic and compulsory) internship in Venice, I was given classes to observe and teach, and that summer inspired me to write my thesis on teaching Italian cooking classes. I wrote my thesis in New York City, where I was teaching at the Italian Cultural Institute of Molise, the region I come from. I believe this experience really opened my eyes to my career path and I arrived at California State University of Long Beach, where I became a teaching associate and research graduate assistant because I knew I needed to go more in depth in the culture and literature of the Italian language in order to be a better instructor, and I was right.

You are currently pursuing a PhD at the Universitat Pompeu Fabra, in Barcelona. Can you tell us a bit about your experiences there? What are you currently researching?

My experience in Barcelona has been great. I got to live and experience university life in another country and it felt very refreshing. My interest is in multilingualism and plurilingualism, therefore, I was looking for a PhD in a bilingual country. The Catalan community has been very welcoming and friendly, which is why I go back every summer and am happy to call it casa. Professors and peers have been sources of inspiration in many ways.

For my research I’ve observed reading and listening intercomprehension strategies used by three groups of participants specifically and carefully chosen between Catalunya, Spain, California and Central and South America. The PhD is international, meaning that it required a part of the research to be conducted in another institution abroad, in my case at CSULB, and part of the thesis written in another language, so in English for me. If everything goes well, I will defend my thesis next summer.

Do you have any advice for someone interested in a PhD? Is there something that surprised you that others should be aware of?

My advice, not to discourage anyone, would be to prepare to work hard and be committed to their research. If the research project is interesting and original you will fully enjoy the process and you won’t regret it. I was lucky enough to be accepted to the only university I had applied to and with the only two professors I wanted to work with, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it. I’ve seen friends accept professors’ projects/ideas who dropped out in their second year, so choose carefully and make sure you’re not working for someone else. This wasn’t really a surprise for me because it’s something I had been warned about and I think everyone should be aware of it: it doesn’t matter how great your advisors are, you will have to learn how to work on your own. In my case they’ve always been kind and helpful, but this experience also taught me that I can succeed by working on my own and it’s extremely rewarding. 

You are currently employed at USC. What can you share about the work you do there? 

While living in LA for my research and personal reasons, I applied to a Part-Time Lecturer Call on LinkedIn and my first semester there was a blast. I felt the need to go back to teach in a university classroom. I was originally substituting for a professor on medical leave–who later decided to retire, which meant that I had to apply for a new International Call as a full-time Lecturer of Italian. When I was offered the position I couldn’t believe it, it was very fulfilling and I love working at USC. The colleagues and students are incredible. It’s a great department and I feel appreciated and valued, and as a new hire it’s something I’m very thankful for. I’m teaching Italian at various levels and I’ve also been assigned an Internship class that is giving me lots of ideas for the future and hope for generations of students to choose and embark on this beautiful Italian journey. 

What is your favorite Italian city and why?

I would say that Bologna will always occupy a special place in my heart since it’s the first city I moved to when I was still figuring out how to live away from home and be independent. I still have friends there and I go back and visit every time I can.

Francesca dopo lezione

[seoafin]

I know it's kinda late, but I'd love to hear more tidbits about your study abroad!!! Was it hard to apply for all the necessity, like to approve so you can get a job there and how did you apply for the opportunity to study abroad?

omg it's never too late i love talking about myself

so probably depends on your uni. some unis partner with international unis or they may even have their own campuses abroad (think NYU). what a lot of other schools do is send kids abroad through partnerships with these others schools. for instance if you wanted to go to yonsei in skorea, yonsei partners with a lot of different american unis so i'd advise reaching out to your advisor who can probably connect you to the study abroad office within your school. at my uni there is a specific system that does take into account which locations you want to be at, what grade you're in (upperclassman get first choice) and your academics (for scholarships and potential first choice sites)

as for visas, the only visa i had to apply for was a study visa which was TEDIOUS. get that shit done ASAP and do NOT procrastinate like i did. you'll thank me later. i didn't have to apply for a work visa bc it was technically an unpaid internship for class credits rip but thank god bc it probably would not have come in time lol. ur study away office will prepare you and make sure u have everything though so utilize them!

as for tidbits about study abroad. for all of its faults it was i really do not regret it bc it was an amazing once in a life experience. i met great people and it did force me out of my comfort zone. i went on a bunch of solo trips staying in hostels and it was SO FUN. i will say that personally i enjoy solo traveling than i do traveling with my friends but it's all your preference. take advantage of everything ur school has to offer whether that be vouchers or free trips or anything else. it's all coming out of ur tuition anyway!!!

i will say though if you're traveling as a WOC to always be on guard. especially in a foreign place you aren't as familiar with. for me personally, italy was racist as hell at times especially if u plan on going out/the nightlife bc the men i met were...👎👎👎👎 but apart from that unforgettable experience!

[hetaliashitpostingftw]

HETALIA OFFICE MASTERPOST

Lol you know The Office? Its good but what if it was like,,, H e t a l i a?

ALLIES

America: Baaaaasically Michael from The Office. He likes leading and cares about the team, but can be a little... out of hand... sometimes. Canada: He sits in the corner and no one knows he’s there, but he’s always pulling his weight in projects. China: Always calling for tech support. Always. It annoys the heck out of whomever’s sitting next to him. France: Is the one who “accidentally” sends an email around to the people at the office which has “inappropriate” content.  England: Getting up in arms because either America’s being incompetent or he’s fed up with France’s nonsense. Russia: “It’d be a shame if something were to happen, da?” (he doesn’t work well with other people, too many HR complaints).

AXIS

Germany: He isn’t the boss but he is the annoying backseat driver who isn’t even second in command. Italy: “Lets go to a ✨𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓✨ after all this guys and someone else can pay!!!11!!” Japan: Forgets about the work and is watching anime with his screens turned away from everyone else.

BALTICS

Estonia: Guess who’s 𝓣𝓮𝓬𝓱 𝓢𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽 👁️ 👄 👁️ Lithuania: "Okay you want me to do that? I’ll do it just dont fire me pls dont” Latvia:"Hey boss what about the fact that you’re doing it wrong?”

EASTERN EUROPE

Romania: Actually does the work but doesn’t tell anyone when he’s done so he can sneak off and do whatever Bulgaria: Microsoft paint obsessed Ukraine: Cares for everyone like the epic mom friend she is Belarus: She doesn’t work there. She’s just there. And so far no one’s had balls enough to tell her to go.

MEDITERRANEAN EUROPE

Spain: "Hey guys I know you didn’t ask but ill make you all lunch! It’s going to be pasta! For the fifteenth day in a row!” Romano: RAGEWORKRAGEWORKRAGEWORKRAGEWORK- Greece: That one person with the “hang in there bby” poster as well as countless cat photos in frames. He also does his work but he’s real quiet about it. Turkey: Likes to hang out by the water cooler and gossip. Cyprus: Best friends with Greece but works surprisingly well with Bulgaria (or, he does, after an incident of him stealing his yogurt). Vatican City: Keeps a bible with him but follows most things he’s told to do. Monaco: She’s a seceratary but only because she’s able to get out of more work that way.

NORDIC EUROPE

Denmark: Keeps a little box of “creativity legos” on his desk which he plays with. He works in Human Resources and loves it. Sweden: Takes orders for the company’s product and is very organized. Keeps a little picture of his family on his desk which he’ll talk to anyone about. Finland: Has his headphones on all the time and sCrEams at anyone who dare interrupt his work. He also coordinates all of the holidays around the office, as well as parties. Norway: He has a thing for the cute guy in HR and keeps trying to meet him “causally” over by the water cooler. Has a plasma ball on his desk because it looks cool. Iceland: His brother got him an unpaid internship (which he hates) and so he spends a lot of time complaining and texting Norway angry gifs while he goes and hangs out with others his age in the breakroom.

LOW COUNTRIES

Belgium: Brings in cookies for everyone every Monday.  Netherlands: Works with Sweden and the two of them have desks next to each other. He helps Sweden when he’s having a prank war with Denmark. Luxembourg: Some higher-up executive who comes down every once in a while to flaunt his awesome-ness and dole out orders.

CENTRAL EUROPE

Austria: Plays classical music off his computer but without earbuds b/c he doesn’t know how. He’s low-key annoying but doesn’t know it. Slovakia: Has the coolest mousepad ever. He also contributes a substantial amount to most meetings. Czechia: Set her space up to be the neatest in the office. She’s one of the more successful members. Hungary: Made a pinterest board of house ideas in her spare time which she makes Austria look at. She doesn’t really care about the work, she’s just there. Switzerland: Financials. He also calls home at 12pm every day to check in on his sister and make sure everything’s okay.  Poland: Decorated the fuck out of his cubicle. Prussia: Has a whole collection of weird-ass ties which he switches. Some say he’s never worn the same one twice!

ASIA

Hong Kong: Also interning, but he doesn’t hate it and takes it instead as an opportunity to take photos of people and make them either cursed or into memes. Macau: Is the second-in-command in the office and basically controls everything since america isn’t great at it. South Korea: Water cooler? He likes to hang out with Turkey. Thailand: Keeps a cool and ornate whiteboard which he likes to take notes on. Vietnam: “What do you mean I have to work with someone else?!?!?!” Taiwan: She works under Denmark in human resources and often has to resolve conflicts. India: Sometimes invites Vietnam to play chess with him online on their monitors.

AFRICA

Egypt: Stole some of Denmark’s legos without his knowledge so he could build too. He’s pretty bored even though he does everything. Seychelles: Sits by the window and doesn’t get her work done since she’s distracted. Cameroon: Playing pranks on Australia when he gets bored, mostly after he’s finished his work.

OCEANIA + CARIBBEAN

Australia: “OY MATE SO YA WANT TO FOIGHT??!!” (he’s on for that prank war) New Zealand: Sits next to Cyprus and sometimes falls asleep, but Cyprus thinks he’s *kinda* cute and doesn’t wake him. Other than that, he’s really good at running meetings. Cuba: Brings fancy chocolates or other things which he takes out to share with special people on special occasions. He’s pretty nonchalant but comes off as intimidating for some.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Like Real People Do

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, oral), deception.

This is dark!Loki and ft. some Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You’re a temp in Stark Tower by day and a fanfic writer by night. What happens when your professional life collides with your secret hobby?

Note: Brief break from HSB but I’m gonna be working on that today and hopefully figuring out when I’ll finish my other pending series. I need to wrap some stuff up so I can move on to newer series, etc. But for now, I hope you like some sneaky Loki.(inspired by an anon ask) Love you guys!

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

It was your second week at the tower. You were still in disbelief. Working with larger than life heroes. Literally. And a paid internship no less. It was like a scene out of your very own fic. Well, those could stay a secret. Especially here. 

The golden haired vet and his billionaire pal didn't need to know about your blog. Or that they were the main attraction of it. Or that you had a notebook in your bag of all the ideas that came to you as you typed away at your desk. And who would guess the new assistant was anything but a chipper upstart?

It was almost thrilling. Smiling at them as the plots whirred in your mind. The comments of other thirsty fangirls. And it was all harmless. Just fantasies. Dreams. You'd get your job experience and be on the way all while fueling your illicit hobby. 

It was busy that day. Traffic came in and out as you waved them along and checked in when Tony buzzed. It was an easy job and time passed quickly with the people.

As you looked up, you almost rolled your chair out from under you.  You dropped your pen and quickly retrieved it from your desk. You smiled up at the burly man as he approached you, a thinner, just a familiar man at his shoulder.

"Hello," You sang as you stood to greet him. "You here to see Tony?"

"Why yes I am," The large blonde boomed in response. "You are new here, my lady?"

"Started just over a week ago," You introduced yourself as he offered his hand. "And you're Thor obviously."

He smiled as the other man rolled his eyes. You righted yourself and shook off your excitement. You glanced at him meekly and cleared your throat. 

"Ah, yes, and this is Loki, my brother," Thor chuckled. "He's the quiet type."

You nodded and sat back down. "I'll let him know you're here if you wanna head in."

"Certainly, but if you don't mind, my brother will stay out here." He elbowed Loki playfully, "He's not exactly permitted beyond the desk."

"It was a joke," Loki grumbled, "Your midgardian friends need to evolve a sense of humour."

"Just sit down," Thor turned back to Loki. "And don't give her too much trouble."

Loki rolled his eyes again and retreated. "Don't worry, brother," He sat among the line of chairs, "I'm not so easily amused."

Thor sighed and turned back as he headed past your desk with another smile.  Loki leaned back and draped one leg over the other. You took out your cell and hid it behind your monitor as you checked your notifications. 

You scrolled for a while and set it aside. Several visitors and regulars passed but a tension remained. The office phone rang and you answered with your usual chime. You turned halfway in the chair as you took the call.

You got down to search through the files in your drawer and as you sat up, you found a lithe figure standing not far from your desk. Loki examined the framed photo of Stark and his lab in London. You finished up your call and hung up as he turned away.

He sat again and tapped his toe impatiently. He ran his long fingers down the lapel of his dark suit as he leaned heavily on his elbow. His green eyes stared dully at the wall opposite him, just right of your desk. You peeked at him and squinted. He caught you before you could look away. He smirked.

You looked down and scribbled along the border of the calendar across your desk. You could sense him watching you. You ignored him as you waited for his brother to return. You slid your phone closer and swiped it open. A message blipped in your inbox.

‘Very intriguing stories’. It read. You hurriedly tapped in a ‘thank you’, hit send and locked your phone again. You stared at the screensaver as it bubbled up the monitor.

Finally, you heard that deep voice again. You glanced over your shoulder as Thor appeared beside your desk with Tony. They chuckled as they neared but Loki did not rise. 

“Fine. You keep him in line and I can put up with him. I let the rest of the team know.” Tony said.

“Oh, you know, he’s not all bad,” Thor grinned at Loki and beckoned him over with two fingers. He didn’t move. “He’s a changed god. Trust me.”

“Mmhmm,” Tony hummed skeptically. “We’ll see but you understand, it all comes down on you.”

“You two are much more alike than you think,” Thor laughed. “You both worry too much!” He turned and swept over to Loki. “Come on, brother, before your sour face changes his mind.”

Loki stood with a huff but followed his brother out; chin held high and eyebrow arched. Tony shook his head and leaned on your desk. 

“Word of warning: avoid that one.” He grumbled and you nodded with a shy smile. “Oh, and, coffee. Please. Need it after that one.”

🖋️

Thor and Loki became another staple in the office. By the end of your first month, you were over being star struck. The avengers, the worldly heroes, they were all just your co-workers. And they were nice. Nat brought you a frap every now and then, Steve always went out of his way to say hi, and Bruce was just happy to have someone who would smile and nod through his scientific spiels.

And your blog was booming.

Every night when you got home, you wrote and posted as much as you could. Your small following had doubled and so had your enthusiasm. You might’ve felt a tinge of guilt as you sat across the desk from America’s saviour or his grungy best friend, but they made for steamy fics. Besides, you reminded yourself, it was fiction. You knew the difference between fantasy and reality.

That didn’t always keep you from daydreaming in the office. That day you found yourself doing so several times as Tony stayed late for his last meeting and you were chained to your desk until he was done. You spun lazily in your chair and checked your phone every now and then. You wanted to write but you didn’t dare do that on a work computer.

Finally, the door opened and you looked over as the two shadows neared. Steve clapped Tony on the back. You sat, patiently patient, as you tore yourself from your thoughts. Tony checked his watch as Steve bid you farewell and waited for him to leave before he turned to you.

“Well, kid, I guess you can head out,” He said. “See ya tomorrow, bright and early?”

“You sure?” You asked coyly.

“Don’t push me. I can always find some colour-coding that needs to be done.” He teased. “I gotta find Pepper before she finds me.” He straightened his jacket. “Have a good one. And wish me luck… I’m only about an hour late.”

He strode out and you stood from your chair with a long stretch. Maybe you’d ask for an upgrade in seating. You packed up your purse and the elevator dinged again. You looked up, surprised. Steve waved awkwardly as he entered. 

“Hey, you know, I was just about to leave and I realised, well, it’s late and…” He shrugged, “You need a ride?”

“A ride?” You repeated as you grabbed your blazer from the back of your chair. “Oh, you really don’t have to--”

“It’s dark and kinda chilly. I got heated seats,” He offered. “But I can understand if you prefer those luxury subway recliners.”

 “Alright, you’ve twisted my arm.” You rounded the desk and neared him. “Thanks, Steve. You’re a real hero.”

“Well, that’s what they say,” He smiled as he led you to the elevator and hit the button. “So, where exactly am I going?”

🖋️

Once you were in the car, you were near giddy. It was a bit reminiscent of your last fic. An indulgence on your part. You resisted the urge to pull out your phone as you smiled at him from your seat, his sparkling blue eyes reflected the street lights. Captain America, the Captain America, was driving you home.

Alright, alright, settle down. He was just a man and he was just being nice. And you were terribly quiet, weren’t you?

“Um, so, how was your day?” You asked nervously.

“Ah, usual,” He said. “Tony’s such a perfectionist. We’re headed… we’ll, we’re due for a mission and he’s been lecturing me about ‘unnecessary heroics’, although I call those my job.”

“Mmm,” You nodded emphatically. “Sounds exciting… dangerous.”

“Surely more than riding a desk,” He chuckled. “How’s it going, anyway? You ready to bring a pillow with you or what?”

“Ha, yeah,” You scoffed. “I mean, I’ve had worse. There was an unpaid internship I had entirely in a mail room. Amazing experience.”

“Sounds like,” He returned as the GPS guided him down your street. “You should see if Tony can show you around the lab. He’s always keen to show off his latest toys.”

“Maybe I will,” You chirped as he pulled into your building lot. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t feel right. I was already there and--” He put the car into park as he looked at you. “And well, I’ll be honest. Forgive me if it’s a little forward but… we don’t really get much time, do we? In the office, there’s so many distractions and interruptions--”

You giggled nervously as he stretched his arm over the back of your seat.

“What I’m trying to say is it was my pleasure.”

You looked down shyly. Your cheeks burned and you slowly looked back up. You squeaked as his lips met yours. You tried to pull away but he only leaned in more. While it wasn’t entirely unwanted, you couldn’t help but think of your internship. He didn’t seem the type for one night stands and you weren’t exactly fond of the idea of an office romance; even with him.

“Steve,” You finally parted, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry, I just…” He sat back and looked at his hands meekly. “I had to. I’m sorry if I--”

“Really, it… it was nice but I just don’t think…”

“You liked it though?” He interrupted.

“Of course, I mean, I--” You caught yourself and squeezed the strap of your purse. “I can’t really afford to lose this internship and this could--”

“No one needs to know,” He blurted out. “I know how these things are nowadays. I just… I really like you.”

“I don’t know,” You bit your lip. “I… um…”

“Look, I won’t pressure you.” He raised his hands. “I just was putting myself out there. I guess… bad timing.”

You looked at your purse then back to him. You peered around the car. Who would know? Well, you would and Steve would. Things might get awkward if you were to… Then again, this was a dream come true. Were you really going to get out of this car alone? You couldn’t help but wonder if reality lived up to fiction.

“You’re right,” You said quietly. “No one needs to know.”

🖋️

Steve had you off the floor before the door was closed. Your purse bounced across the carpet as he carried you past the doormat and the flimsy coat rack. He blindly lumbered around with you in his arms, your lips locked together. He fell onto the couch with you beneath him as you pushed the leather of his coat down his shoulders.

He parted to help you untangle it from his arms and was just as quick to tear your blazer off and toss it away. His tee shirt was next and your blouse barely kept its buttons as he ripped it off. You never expected such vigour from him; more a doting sore of intimacy, not that you were complaining. 

You slipped out of your heeled oxfords and he kicked off his own shoes as you admired his torso. Every muscle rippled beneath his flawless skin and for a moment, you felt a tickle of insecurity. Look at him. He was perfect.

The jingle of his buckle drew you back. You bit your tongue eagerly as you stood and wiggled out of your stuffy dress pants. His eyes followed your hands as you bared your thighs and stepped out of the wool. With his fly undone, he reached out and drew you to him. He kissed you again as you straddled his lap.

His hands were swift in unhooking your bra. Another surprise. You always dreamt of the clumsy pan plucked from the past. You dropped the undergarment down your arms as he cupped your tits. You flung it away and wrapped your arms around him. You tossed your head back as his lips tickled your throat and rocked atop his lap. He groaned and ran his thumbs over your nipples.

You purred and felt along his chiseled torso. You pushed your hand past his jeans and the elastic of his briefs. Your fingers slipped below as he gasped against your throat. You gripped his cock and slowly moved your hand between your bodies. He was thick and just as big as you imagined; maybe bigger. 

He bent his head and kissed along your chest. You arched your back and twined your fingers through his hair. You held him to you as you stroked him and he kneaded your ass hungrily. He lifted his ass easily with you atop him and shoved his pants down his thighs until he sprung out. 

You carried your motion as he fell back against the couch. His hands trailed up your sides and back again. He gripped your hips then dragged his nails down your thighs. He nodded as you bit your lip and got up on your knees. You hovered over him and shed your panties. You straddled him again and lined him up with your entrance. You lowered yourself onto him as you slid your hand down his length. 

He squeezed your thighs and let out a long moan as you took all of him. You pulled your hand away and grasped his shoulders. He was a lot and your walls strained around him. You shuddered and his fingers danced up your curves.

“Go slow,” He said.

You nodded and tilted your pelvis carefully. Your breaths were shaky as you lifted yourself up and he impaled you once more. You leaned back with your hands on his thighs as you tried to ease the pressure. His eyes roved your body as you rocked your hips, slowly building your tempo.

“That’s it,” He uttered. 

He explored your body with one hand and his other rested just below your stomach. He pressed his thumb to your clit. You bucked and sped up as he played with you. You huffed as you arched your back and rode him wildly. Your eyes rolled back as you chased your orgasm. The tendrils that stretched over your flesh and strangled you in bliss.

Your climax shook you. He grasped your hips and kept you moving as your arms trembled weakly. “So naughty,” He whispered. His voice was low, dusky; so unlike his own. “So delectable.”

Your vision was blurry as you lifted your head. You let him use your body as another orgasm rose. You sat up as he guided you up and down his cock. You whined as you came and closed your eyes in rapture.

You cried out as you were suddenly flipped onto you back. He didn’t miss a beat as he fucked you into the cushions, your legs splayed around him. His snarls were animalistic, ravenous, as he rutted into you. You babbled and grabbed weakly at his thick arms planted beside your head.

He pulled out and grunted. A warmth spilled down your thighs as he pushed himself back onto his knees. He watched as he stroked himself over the edge and his golden hair fell forward. You sighed as you touched your forehead dazily. He caressed your thighs as he caught his breath.

“Wow,” You murmured.

“Yeah,” He panted. “Wow.”

🖋️

In the back of your mind, you dreaded the early morning but you were too elated to care. Too intoxicated by your lust to worry about the body next to you as you fell asleep. Your double bed was barely big enough for both of you but you didn’t mind his warmth as he slung his arm over you. You dozed contently; floating in a river of bliss.

You woke with a snort. Your face was buried in the pillow and the sky was still dark outside. You sat up groggily and felt your way to the bathroom. You relieved yourself and rinsed off the remnants of your tumble. You stumbled back to the bedroom, eager to squeeze in a few more hours before you had to drag yourself back to the tower. 

You tiptoed out to the living room and grabbed your phone before you got back into bed, careful not to disturb your guest. As you laid back and lit up your phone, you dropped it on your chest. You lifted it and held up the glow to the pillow next to yours. That wasn’t Steve.

You swore loudly and threw your phone at Loki. His eyes shot open as yours began to adjust to the dark. You pushed yourself up as he caught your wrist. A low snicker sent a chill through you as he tugged you closer. His arm snaked up below you and he pulled you against him.

“’His eyes spoke of his sin, but his body promised heaven.’” He slithered and you froze. “Poetry, almost.”

“You-- How did you--” You cringed at your own words; written for your lascivious blog.

“I do wonder what he would think,” Loki clung to you as you squirmed. “I don’t think he’d be so eager as all that.”

“How could you-- You tricked me,” You pushed against his shoulders.

“I gave you what you wanted,” He said. “And you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it, dear.”

“I thought you were...him,” You stuttered. “I never would have--”

“I can be him,” You felt the change, heard it in his voice. “Or maybe another favourite.” His voice deepened and you recognized Bucky’s sonorous tones.

“No, no,” You whined desperately. “Stop! Please.”

“Stop?” His voice returned to normal and he turned so that you were atop him, his arms firmly around you. “Oh, but I am your biggest fan, dear. I have but one suggestion.” He stared at you through the dim. “I’d be a great addition to your repertoire.”

“You’re sick!” You snarled. “You--you--”

“I know your secret,” He sneered. “I admit, your little tales would make for some fascinating conversation among those ridiculous Avengers but I think you might just find yourself no longer welcome among them.”

“You wouldn’t,” You hissed.

“What makes you think that?” He taunted.

“What do you want?” You breathed.

“I’m sure your dirty little mind can answer that,” His hand wandered lower and you felt the twitch between you. “Hmm?”

You shook your head; mortified, shocked.

“You can resist it but I feel your heart racing; the heat coursing through your veins… mmm, that would make for great prose, wouldn’t it?”

“Please…” You begged.

“Oh, I can please you,” He said. “You just have to let me, dear.”

He rolled you onto your back in a moment and his hand crawled along your stomach cloyingly. You stared at him, his silhouette limned in the dull light that streamed in past the curtains. He slowly retreated as he lowered his head. His lips made you shiver as he laid a trail of kiss along your chest.

“Loki…” You whispered.

“Louder,” He spoke against your skin.

“Loki,” You said louder. “Please, don’t.”

He continued his path along your stomach, a hand played with your tits blindly as he did. You trembled as he reached the vee of your pelvis. His teeth grazed your hip bone and you closed your eyes. You caught his hand on your chest.

“Loki,” You said again.

“My dear,” He raised his head. “I’m about to put your stories to shame.”

He slipped his fingers up along your ass and between your folds. You winced as he bent his head and his cool tongue met his fingers at your clit. You inhaled sharply and tilted your pelvis against him. He purred in approval as he swirled his tongue around your clit.

You reached down to stop him and he flicked his tongue. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you urged him on. Your legs bent around him as he nestled between them. He hooked his hands around your thighs and held on as he lost himself in you. You writhed as he suckled and lapped, soon breathless and mewling.

You bucked your hips as you came and he held you firm as he coaxed you over the edge. He was slow to pull away and you covered your face as he sat up in the dark. 

“Don’t be shy, dear,” He drew your hands away from your face. “You don’t have to be with me. I know everything. I’ve read every story a dozen times.” He pinned your hands beside your head. “And I want to live them all.”

He held you down as he dipped his pelvis. You felt his tip along your cunt and held your breath. There was one part of himself he hadn’t changed. The head of his cock slid along your folds and he slowly pushed inside as he found your entrance. You gasped as he plunged into you entirely. He lingered and basked in the feel of you around him.

He wasn’t slow this time. Or gentle. As he thrust, he jerked your entire body and the bed swayed beneath you. You were still tender from before and you whimpered as he rocked into you. His motion was deliberate and deep. He was sure to make you feel it. He squeezed your wrists until your fingers were numb.

“Say it,” He snarled as he pounded into you. “Say my name.”

“Loki,” You cried out. “Loki!”

“Again!” He commanded.

You repeated his name over and over, though you weren’t sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going. It wasn’t long before your core was once more buzzing. You pushed your head back into the pillow and gritted your teeth as the chant turned erratic. You squealed as you came, the syllables uttered pathetically.

He released your wrist as he sat back. He grabbed your legs and pulled them up against his torso but never wavered. He hammered into you as he held your legs to his shoulders and you groped desperately at the blanket. The springs of the bed were noisy and added to the salacious sounds of your fucking. 

He stopped suddenly. A few final spasms as he hugged your legs to him and gave a soft groan. You felt the warmth seep through you. He dropped your legs and they fell around him as he breathed heavily. He rocked his hips a few times before he pulled out of you. You could feel his cum as it leaked out onto the sheets.

He ran his hand along your thigh and squeezed it. He nudged you and when you didn’t move, he forcefully rolled you over. He slapped your ass as he pushed your legs together and straddled your thighs. You lifted your head and he shoved it back down..

“My dear,” He slithered. “I think I might just be your best story.”

[justfornowokaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa]

Recently I've been thinking about this a lot.

I don't have imposter syndrome. When I see things about it or have conversations it never feels like it applies to me. I don't think I'm a genius but I know I'm smart, I know I understand things. I am ready and feel confident in myself.

Yet I acutely realize that my own life experiences are not on par with what a "worldly" intelligent person has done according to those in positions of power. My life experiences regardless of what it says about me don't matter as much as life experiences of my peers and classmates that are the product of privilege. It is so obvious.

So while I've been translating for my mother since I was old enough to communicate basically, that never as impressive as the fact a few of my more affluent friends had their parents pay for a trip to Europe for a summer and had to "deal" with all those languages.

Despite that fact that by the age of 11 I was basically filling out paperwork for people who didn't speak English who would come over for my help never is comparable to the fact they did some unpaid or poorly paid internship at a magazine I can never do.

Basically the fact that from a young age I proved myself adaptable, intelligent and capable means nothing because I can't afford to do these markers of a worldly person they demand.

So I don't have imposter syndrome, they just can't see past their myopic view of how to be a full person. No matter what I do, I will never be able to talk to my professors, most children of professor, about some abbey I saw on a trip to Scotland and how I just can't wait to go back to it on my next trip to Europe. They may tell me that they know I'm smart and ill do great but constantly its made very clear that I lack the "right" experience. Not by their words but by their actions. Im always so impressed by classmates of mine who work 40+ hours and hustle their asses off keeping good grades. Yet never have I seen a professor or admin praise that even half as much as some signal of privilege they mark as important.

What's saddest its the very people who hold themselves up as trying to break that privilege. They can't even see it.

[queerbutstillhere]

Hiya!! Wow u still doing amazing prompts? How about a soulmate AU for Jondami? Where Kyptonians feel a "click" once they meet their soulmate and that even if they date someone else they can feel as much love that the feel for their mate.

(Hi! Sorry it took this long! I hope you get to see this! And I hope it is good!)

When he was young, his dad explained it to him. Told him how they, as Kryptonian's would often have "soulmates". Said he wasn't sure if Jon would experience this, since he was only half kryptonian, but it was best to just be prepared.

He explained how there was this click. Why everything seemed off and disfunctional, how it felt like everything was just shifted to the left a bit. Why Jon felt odd, like the world was buzzing at such a low decible that he could just barely hear it. And he told Jon that this may stop one day, or he would just stop noticing it.

It was this way because of their soulmates. And once he met his soulmate, things would just click. Everything would be normal and right again. He would feel the shift. So he needed to pay attention if that happened, watch who he had been with. Clark explained that he could still fall in love with people other then his soulmate, Clark had done it so many times before he met Lois, but it would never quite be as perfect as it would be with his soulmate.

Jon took this very seriously, and from that day as a young child, to an eleven year old when he felt it, he paid great attention to all his interactions.

And then he met Robin.

And his world shifted back into focus.

His meeting with Robin hadn't been fantastic, they had tried to kill each other, multiple times. But Jon couldn't ignore the fact that the first time he touched Robin, he physically felt this snap inside him. A Click. In fact it startled him so much that Robin got the upperhand and would have seriously hurt Jon, had Bruce not stepped in right at that moment.

Jon had been shaken up for days after, and refused to tell his parents why. So they chose to believe Robin had done something to their precious child. And they were furious. But he needed to tell someone, and when his older (yet younger?) brother popped in for his monthly visit, he managed to drag Kon outside.

"Hey, kiddo, what's wrong? You're looking a little green. Been exposed to any kryptonite recently?"

Jon shook his head. He did feel a little sick. They were sat on the roof of the barn, staring out over the cow pastures.

"Jon?" Conner asked, joking tone dropped, now just concerned. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Do you need to go to a doctor? I can take you to dad if you don't want Clark and Lois to know?"

"No! I'm not... I'm not sick. And why is Lex a better option then Dad?!"

"He does care what I do? Also I thought you liked Lex."

Jon didn't respond, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Kon, did dad explain the soulmates thing to you?"

"Sure did. Why- oh my God, did you? Who is it?! Did you tell them?!"

"Shh!" Jon hissed, glaring at his brother.

Kon immediately sobered, reaching out to wrap an arm around Jon.

"Who is it, Jon? What's the matter?"

"It's... Robin."

Conner blinked at him a few times in confusion.

"The... The demon spawn? Tim's little brother?"

Jon nodded a couple times, pushing his face into his knees.

"... Wow. Okay. That's. Yikes. Didn't he try to kill you?"

Another nod.

Kon gently rubbed his back. "Well. It's okay, Jon. You don't... You're only eleven, you don't have to do anything about it. Maybe- maybe it's best not to tell anyone else? Clark and Lois might-" Kon cut off with a small sigh.

Jon just groaned and pressed his face harder against his legs.

"It's okay," was Kon's comforting mantra as he hugged his small brother for a moment.

And it was.

In the end, Jon practically forgot about it. He grew up, was Damian's partner, became his best friend, hung out with him all through highschool. He almost forgot about the soulmate thing. Except sometimes he'd notice how much sharper his world was when he was with Damian, or how much happier he was around him.

But he fell in love in highschool, had his heart dramatically broken when his girlfriend cheated on him, even spent a whole evening bemoaning his sad life to Damian as they ate vegan ice cream on the roof of the barn, wrapped in fluffy blankets.

He thought he maybe fell for Damian, his senior year of highschool, but Damian was off, traveling abroad, so it was easy to forget, and then he spent his summer after working and barely saw him. And then Jon was off to college, barely saw any of his friends, let alone his best friend who lived in another country at this point, stopped superheroing, just focused solely on college.

It wasn't until his senior year of college that he realized his world had fallen back into disarray, that things were off again.

It wasn't until senior year that he remembered Damian was his soulmate.

He sent Damian a simple text.

-Hey, next time you're in the states, we should hang out. I know it's been a while, but I'd love to catch up!

Two days later, he got a response.

~Hello! Sorry for not responding sooner. I am currently in Gotham, actually, would you like to meet up this weekend?

Well that was easier than anticipated.

-Yeah! Sure, I can come down there if you want? Does Sunday work?

~Yes. You can come for lunch if you wish. It shall be at noon.

-I'll be there :)

So Sunday Jon showered and flew to Gotham, wearing fairly nice clothes. As nice as it got for a college student with an unpaid internship. Okay so it was pretty nice clothes BECAUSE of his internship. He didn't fly much these days, but it wasn't like he forgot how to. He just headed to Gotham and plopped himself on the front step of the manor, taking a moment to sort himself, straighten out the wildly tangled hair, smooth down his burgandy sweater and fix the cuffs of the button down he had on underneath it. And then he rang the doorbell.

It was only a brief wait, and then the door swung open to reveal one of many black haired blue eyed brothers of Damian's. Jon's memory immediately kicked in and reminded him the buff one with the white streak was Jason.

"Hi, Jason!" He said with a grin.

Jason, who had scruff and bags under his eyes and smelled like cigarettes, grunted.

"Welcome back, kid. It's been a while since you've been around."

Jon smiled and shrugged. "Well, I've been busy with school and all that."

Jason shrugged in return and opened the door, letting Jon in

"Do I still need to take my shoes off?" Jon asked, pointing at the pile by the door.

Jason looked at it, then at Jon. "To save the old man's back, we'll say yes. I don't even know anymore."

Jon raised an eyebrow and took off his dress shoes, following Jason further into the house.

"I think Damian's in the kitchen with Alfie."

"Okay. Thanks Jason!"

"Uh-huh."

Jon headed into the kitchen and did indeed find Damian, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he helped Alfred cook. He looked up as he heard the door open, and his eyes widened slightly. Jon felt the same thing happen to him. Because man had Damian grown up. Of course Jon had seen his social media and seen this, but it was completely different to see him in real life, just a few feet away. He was wearing a green sweater, and black slacks, black dress socks on his feet. His olive skin was dark, darker then Damian had ever been while living in Gotham. His black hair was short on the sides and back, and still the same long, fluffy top.

"Jonathan, hello!" Alfred said cheerfully, the elderly man smiled at him.

"Hey, Alfred."

Damian seemed to snap out of his daze, glancing down at the food he was stirring then back up to Jon.

"Hello," he said with a smile. He set down his spoon and washed his hands quickly.

"Hi."

Damian stepped closer. "Has it been too long to get a hug?"

Jon chuckled and stepped into him, wrapping his arms around Damian and hugging him tightly. Damian's arms slipped around his waist and returned it, his chin on Jon's shoulder.

And there it was again. The click. The settling of his universe. The reminder that things were okay and good and right.

"It's good to see you," Damian murmured gently, his eyes closed.

Jon hummed gently. "Yeah. It's been a while."

He didn't want to let go. He felt safe hugging Damian. He felt warm and happy.

Damian started to pull back so he let go and watched Damian head back and return to stirring his food.

"So watcha cooking?"

"Sauteing asparagus, lunch is almost ready. Grandfather, could you go get the others and then get them seated in the dining room?"

"Sure, my boy," Alfred said with a smile and then headed out, walking a little slower then Jon last remembered.

Damian watched him leave, eyes full of concern. Jon was too busy reeling in the fact that his ears weren't buzzing anymore and that things didn't feel slightly blurry.

"He's not moving as good as he used too," Damian commented softly, and then shook his head a bit.

"Anyway. How are you? How is college?" Damian asked, smiling.

"College is good. Was good. I'm almost done now. I've got an internship at an architectural firm."

"Oh. Nice. You were going for interior design, right? Or was it architecture?"

"Architecture."

"That makes sense...."

Jon chuckled, looking around the kitchen which was still the same.

"So you finally gave up on the glasses?"

"What? Oh yeah. I don't do a lot of superboy stuff anymore so no one really recognized me as him... I plan to change my uniform and add a mask here soon though."

"That's smart."

"Do you, um? Do you still do vigilante stuff?"

"Oh, in Europe? Some, but you'd be surprised at the lack of supervillains over there. But yes, I do some over there."

Jon nodded. "That makes sense."

"Can you grab that pan for me?" Damian pointed at a casserole dish.

"Sure!"

Jon grabbed it and followed him out to the dining room. The rest of the family was there, getting seated, fussing over Alfred. Jon ended up following Damian back into the kitchen and helped him carry out a few more dishes that all looked expertly cooked and foreign. And then they sat down and ate. Dinner was great, the Wayne family had fun catching up with Jon. And then after, Jon and Damian went for a walk around the Manor, enjoying the nice spring weather.

Jon knew he needed to tell Damian but he didn't know how. They just walked and lightly chatted and caught up. Finally they reached the gardens and Jon reached out grabbed Damian's hand, pulling him to sit on a bench.

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay? What's wrong?" Damian asked, concern filling his face.

Damian showed emotions so much more freely know. Jon had known him for over 10 years now, so this was kinda surprising.

"There's this. . . " He sighed.

Then he stood and started pacing.

"Kryptonian's have this thing. . . They have soulmates," he started explaining, not looking at Damian. "We can feel when we meet our soulmates, it's like this click when we first touch them and-"

"Oh," Damian said. "Interesting. Is there any changes after?"

"After? After the click? Yeah, before, things feel off and for me there's like this buzzing noise. After things just felt more clear and like the world is more focused."

"Interesting."

"Damian. Damian there's a reason I'm telling you this," Jon said, turning to him.

"Why-"

"Because the first time I touched you thirteen years ago, I felt that click."

Damian blinked.

"And when I hugged you again today, I felt the click again."

"Oh," Damian said softly.

"Yeah.... I'm sorry for throwing this on you, but I had to tell you. And we can still fall in love, outside of our soulmate, but things will always feel off."

Damian wasn't responding, just nodding slightly. Jon went silent, crossing his muscular arms and watching him cautiously.

"Well."

Jon sighed. "I'm sorry. Should I go? I should go. I'll let you think about it-"

"Jon, wait!" Damian exclaimed, standing.

Jon had already been flying, so he stopped, blinking.

"Thank you, for telling me. And especially thank you for not telling me earlier, when we were younger. I would not have known how to take it and I undoubtedly would have run away from you."

Jon smiled softly, touching back down to the ground.

"And I'm sorry, for being a horrible friend back then."

"It's okay, Damian. You weren't as bad as you seem to think."

Damian just shook his head slightly. He stepped forwards and hugged Jon again.

"Give me a little time to process this, okay? I'm not going to run away."

"Okay."

Jon smiled to himself as he hugged Damian for a minute, as he felt that warmth and safety.

And then he stepped back. "It was good to see you, Damian."

"You too, Jon."

They waved to each other and then Jon took off up into the air, heading back home.

A few days later he got another text from Damian.

~ I think I'm going to be in the states for a while.

- Yeah? That's cool! I'm sure your family will be happy to hear that.

~ yes. They were.

~ Would you like to get dinner sometime? So we can talk.

- That would be amazing.

~ Thursday?

- Sure, around seven? I can come down there if we push it to 7:30.

~ No, I'll come to you, so seven is fine. Send me your address and I'll pick you up. Dress nicely, business casual.

- Okay, I'll see you then :)

Three weeks later, they were dating.

Send me prompts!

[littlemarvelfics]

The Graduate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (tattoo artist!bucky)

Word Count: about 2k

Warnings: just some fluff

Square Filled: Accomplishing a Goal for @marvelfluffbingo, Artist AU for @star-spangled-bingo and Artist!Bucky (Y5) for @buckybarnesbingo

A/N: Hi all! I hope you enjoy this! Side note, it has nothing to do with the movie The Graduate. I’m just terrible at titles. Also... I started a Kofi. If you want to donate, the link is in my bio. Leave me a little note and lemme know if I can write something for you! Enjoy! 

You wiped your hands on the black gown currently covering your clothes. You stood with the rest of your row and slowly shuffled towards the side of the stage. In just a few moments, your college experience would be over. All the late nights and cram sessions would be done and for that you were grateful. But you would miss the group of friends you had made, the ones who made those late nights bearable. 

You took a deep breath as you ascended the stairs towards the podium where the Dean of Students was reading out names. Yours was called and you walked across the stage, hearing a whistle that could only belong to one man. Bucky Barnes. 

You had met Bucky two years ago when you were a sophomore and he was finishing up his apprenticeship at a local tattoo shop. He was friends with Steve, a senior you had befriended through an art elective. You and Bucky had met at a party and the rest was history. Once Bucky had finished his apprenticeship, he worked at opening his own shop and he finally took his first appointment six months ago. Bucky was the one responsible for the black ink over your ribs, a simple bushel of wildflowers. 

As you walked down the stairs, you scanned over the audience quickly looking for your parents. You sent them an invitation to the ceremony along with two tickets but you were sure they wouldn’t show up. Majoring in journalism with the dream of becoming a reporter hadn’t sat well with them, they never missed an opportunity to tell you that you were wasting your life. 

You walked back to your seat and listened as the rest of the names were called, cheering loudly for your friends as they crossed the stage. By the time the Dean announced the class of 2020, you were beyond ready to find Bucky, get out of the sun and get on with whatever he had planned for the night. 

Thirty minutes later, you pushed your way through the crowd, attempting to find Bucky. You hugged a few people on your way and you were just about to call him when you found him leaning against a tree, away from the madness. His sunglasses were covering his eyes and he had his hair pulled back off his neck. He wore a dark blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the dark ink decorating his left arm. The look was finished off with a pair of black jeans and suede boots that were scuffed to hell. When he spotted you, he straightened up off the tree and grinned at you as you took off running, jumping into his arms when you made it to him. He held you around your waist and held you close to him. 

“Congratulations sugar,” he mumbled in your ear. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“You know what? I’m proud of me too,” you responded with a giggle. 

“Is there anything else you need to finish up here? Or can I take my best girl to lunch?” Bucky asked. 

You were just about to answer when you heard your name called from behind you. You whipped around and came face to face with your parents. 

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” 

“You invited us,” your mom said tensely. 

“Right of course,” you responded, at a loss for words. 

Your mom coughed and looked behind you where Bucky was still standing. 

“Oh right,” you said with a smile. “Mom, dad this is Bucky, my boyfriend. Bucky these are my parents Ken and Sue.” 

Bucky stepped around you and offered his hand to your father who looked at Bucky’s tattoos with disgust, ignoring his outstretched hand. You spoke up in an effort to diffuse the awkward situation. 

“I didn’t realize the two of you were coming out. I never heard back from you.” 

“We decided to surprise you. We wouldn’t believe you graduated if we wouldn’t have seen it for ourselves,” your dad said with a smirk. 

You gave a tight smile, not sure what to say to the backhanded comment. Luckily Bucky stepped in. 

“She’s pretty amazing,” he commented, wrapping his arm around you. “Graduated first in the program.” 

“The journalism program,” your mom said under her breath. 

You sighed and barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“Why don’t we all go out to lunch?” Bucky suggested, ignoring your mother’s comment. “Celebrate the grad a bit?” 

You looked at your parents, almost positive they would turn down the invitation. 

“Why not,” your dad said. “Have a place in mind?” 

“Sure, there’s a place a few miles from here called Tony’s.” 

You smiled up at Bucky- that was the restaurant the two of you had your first official date at. 

+++++

The four of you were seated quickly at Tony’s, you and Bucky being somewhat of regulars. You all ordered your drinks and you saw your parents internally scrutinizing the place. It wasn’t anything fancy, a hole in the wall with loud music on Friday nights and an expansive drink menu making it a popular place for the local college kids. 

“So what’s the plan Y/N?” your mom asked. 

“The plan?” you questioned. 

“You got your… journalism degree. What’s next?” 

The way your mother said ‘journalism’ made it seem like it was a dirty word, never to be uttered in public. 

“I have an internship starting in a few weeks-” 

Before you could finish your sentence, your mom cut you off again. 

“Four years of work for an unpaid internship?” she scoffed. 

“Did she say unpaid?” Bucky said under his breath. 

You nudged him with your elbow as you suppress a smile. 

“It’s not unpaid and it will probably lead to a job after a few months,” you said, the pride clear in your voice. “It’s with This American Life.” 

You had worked your ass off to secure the highly coveted internship with This American Life, a radio show and podcast that was on public radio once a week. The show had made you fall in love with telling stories and working for them had been a dream of yours since you moved to New York for college. You recorded your own story to go with your application, Bucky had been the subject of it. A simple story that revolved around two weeks of shadowing him as he worked to open White Wolf Ink, his tattoo shop. 

“That’s… impressive,” your dad said, clearly surprised you had an actual plan. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks dad,” you responded as your food arrived at the table. 

“What about you Bucky? When did you graduate?” your mom asked. 

“I didn’t,” Bucky said simply. “College wasn’t the right choice for me.” 

Your mom laughed, not bothering to hide her disdain. 

“So what is it that you do with no college degree?” 

“I’m a tattoo artist,” Bucky responded. 

Both of your parents looked at Bucky, failing to hide the judgment on their faces.

“He just opened his own shop,” you said, never one to shy away from bragging about your boyfriend. “It’s been busy.” 

“So how long have the two of you been dating?” your dad asked, ignoring your comments about Bucky. 

“Two years,” Bucky answered, looking over at you with a smile and placing a kiss on your head. 

“Really Y/N?” your mom moaned. 

“Really what?” 

“A struggling journalist dating a tattoo artist? Is that how you pictured your life?” 

“Nope,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “I plan to be a successful journalist. And I never dreamed I’d be dating a man like Bucky. He’s so far out of my league.” 

You mother glared at you, clearly not satisfied with your answer. 

“Do you know how embarrassing this is for us? First, you leave town and then you major in something so… trivial. You were smart! You could have done something with your life! And if that wasn’t what you wanted, you could have married  a nice respectable man!” 

“Enough!” you yelled. “You can sit there and tell me how much you dislike every choice I’ve ever made. But leave Bucky out of it.” 

Bucky squeezed your knee under the table and immediately you felt more calm and collected. 

“Listen,” Bucky said quietly. “I have a night planned to celebrate your amazing daughter and all the hard work she’s put in for the last four years. I’d love to have you stay for lunch but not if you’re going to act like this. 

Your mom looked between you and Bucky, waiting for you to defend her. You simply shrugged a shoulder and glanced over a Bucky, his face serious. You put your hand on top of his and squeezed three times, a silent way of saying “I love you”.   

“Well I’m not gonna sit here and listen to you act like any of this is okay,” your mom said, getting up from the table. 

Your father got up and followed behind your mom, glancing back at you with a sad smile. 

Once your parents were out of sight, Bucky turned to face you. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly. 

“Why are you sorry? That was on them, not either one of us.” 

“Still-” 

“Let’s eat and then I promise we can talk this to death later tonight but right now, I just wanna have my happy day with my boyfriend,” you said, cutting him off. 

“Then a happy day is what you’ll have,” Bucky replied with a smile. 

+++++

An hour later, you were back in the car with Bucky, your late lunch and a glass of wine leaving you relaxed and content. You looked over at Bucky driving and smiled, putting your hand at the back of his neck and rubbing your thumb against him. 

“I love you lots, you know that?” you asked simply. 

“Not as much as I love you.” 

“Don’t you fight me,” you said with a giggle. “Where are we heading anyway?” 

“I finally finished sketching out your tattoo. Thought you might wanna get it done tonight?” 

“Really?! That sounds perfect,” you said with a sigh, leaning your head against the car window. 

It didn’t take long to get to the shop. Bucky unlocked the front door and you walked over you his chair, making yourself comfortable while he grabbed the design and went over to the machine, preparing the stencil to place on your skin. You lifted your dress slightly, revealing your right thigh for Bucky to decorate. You scrolled on your phone, looking through all the Instagram posts from your classmates, all celebrating your recent accomplishments. 

Bucky came back in, paper in hand. He instructed you to look away, wanting the final design to be a surprise. You laughed but did as you were told, smiling when you felt him press the page to your leg. 

“Okay,” Bucky said quietly. “You can look.” 

You looked down at your thigh and gasped. Instead of one of Bucky’s designs, purple words were pressed into your skin. “Will you marry me?” 

You looked up at Bucky, a black velvet box in his hand revealing a beautiful engagement ring. 

“You’re the one I want with me when all my dreams come true, when I accomplish any of my goals or when I fall short. You’re the one I want with me. Will you marry me?” Bucky asked. 

You could barely see him through the tears filling your eyes, frantically nodding your head up and down. He kissed you before sliding the ring on your finger and pulling you into his arms. 

You pulled away from him, kissing him once again. 

“Best day ever,” you mumbled against his lips. 

“One of many sweetheart. One of many.” 

[victoriousscarf]

Can I ask about the path you took toward working in public history? I'm in grad school at the moment. (I also have a complicated family situation and the world is kind of a mess so I'm not necessarily expecting an answer that gives some kind of set path I can follow, I'm just curious.)

Ok... So ...

Like I think it's always hard to be in the public history field and be like yeah! You're totally gonna get something! Because of my like cohort when I started grad school I think... 3...no 4 of us have stable employment in the field. One I know of is field adjacent. One left to become an artist, one has never held a job in the field at all, and a lot have either struggled with work or been underemployed. So it's rough and I think the pandemic has made library/museum/archives jobs way harder.

But.

I went to school specifically in a program for archives and records management. That program no longer exists, and most archives jobs want an MLIS anyway. (I've gotten some shady looks from hiring managers not in the field because they're like... It's not an MLIS and I'm like no? Because it was way more specialized?? Like I am super qualified okay I promise). This was... Not a great idea. The more specialized you are, the harder to switch tracks it is. I've been considering going back for a museum degree just for more flexibility because that's honestly the only way to survive in this field. Right now I'm seeing more museum jobs than archives, but my curator friend was insisting it was the other way when she was applying so it's also just luck of the draw.

So I have super specialized education. Pros and cons.

I then took an internship as an interpretive ranger at a national park site. And that was the best thing I ever did for myself. There are several programs that do internships with the NPS, but a lot of them are age specific. The one I did was for 26 and below, so it wouldn't be useful for older folks going back to school but! There's also federal jobs that are either for people still in school (I think it was called pathways back then?) Or some jobs are only open for recent grads. It was paid and they provided housing. A lot of internships don't do that and it's awful and there's been a slow but steady reckoning in the field that unpaid internships are bad and exclusionary to people who don't have any support sytem backing them.

Working for the NPS opened up a lot of doors for me. The federal government is very difficult to break into. It doesn't really matter what the job posting says, if you don't have experience, you probably aren't getting through the questionnaire. (And yes. There are questionnaires. So. Many. Questionnaires). But if you luck into an internship, you learn about the system and you get experience and no matter where you go after that, it's good to have in your pocket in case you need it again.

After that I also lucked out with a partnership program through my old grad program. It is definitely worth checking to see what sort of connections the program might have. Because I got something like 9 months of work that was paid for by my grad program to work in an entirely different state to finish a project for them. Look around, connections really matter in the public history field. If you have the chance to go to a conference, yeet yourself toward it. It's hard to like meet people, but the nice thing is most folks in the field are fucking nerds who are probably socially awkward too. Archives potlucks are hailrious because 89% of the folks have got social anxiety. They all wanna bring a book and sit and read quietly. But the more people you meet, the more connections you make, the better (also Archivists looooove twitter. Ugh. And there's a lot of really good archives/library/museum groups on facebook. I'd recommend them).

The more weird shit you can put on your resume, the better. Saying which parks I worked at (sometimes very famous ones) made me stand out. I also ran a day long academic conference in grad school and was president of a student chapter of a professional organization. It almost killed me, but it stood out in people's minds. One of my co workers did field work in Eygpt, and our supervisor mentions seeing that on her resume all the time. Like that was part of what drew him to it. Again, money is an issue for most people and this is hard to pull off, but weird shit helps you stand out. Emphasis anything cool you've ever done in your whole life. I also did national history day in high school. That meant I was our education specialists favorite person when it came time to help high schoolers on their project. Even if it's too late for you to do that in high school, see if you have a regional competition nearby. Or state even. Volunteer. That's also something that stands out (plus helping wee history nerds can be a treat... When you're not being reminded why high school was so terrible lol).

I also moved to 6 states in... 5 years. And I don't mean neighboring states either I mean I started on the west coast and flung myself all the way to the western side of the Mississippi River. And then North. And then South. And then West again. This is not possible for a lot of people because a) money and b) family. Even with all that moving I was unemployed for 6 or so months in the middle of it. It is hard to be looking for work so constantly and then packing up your life and yeeting yourself to another state /again./

I also have a chronic condition with regularly scheduled flare ups. Moving away from my family for work has sucked, being in pain and having to explain to a new boss I'll have to take some time off every year to like, lay on the floor in pain, sucks. So like. It can be done even WITH stuff like that too.

But I have been incredibly lucky. Because I got a few breaks when I needed one. Because I was in a position to go for what I could take. I also missed certain chances I should have been able to take. That's never a good feeling but it doesn't mean one missed chance or fuck up is the end of the road.

So yeah, as you said, every circumstance is different, every road is different, but I do think hearing a) it can be done and b) different approaches to how it can be done, can really help. Like even if you can't do the same stuff, maybe there's something in there that can help out. Some spark of an idea of something to try.

(I'm also making this public in case it helps anyone else ... I hope that's okay).

(this got long lol. But I was trying to think of like any advice that could help. There's a lot of pathways to get into the field, but volunteering, weird shit on that resume, being willing to go the extra bit, those are probably the most basic take aways anyone could try).

[angrylizardjacket]

and then there was light {Roger Taylor} 5 (finale)

A/N: 4455 words. The end. Presented without commentary.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

You wake up and immediately feel like you’re about to hurl. A shower helps, despite the fact that you spend half an hour in there, curled on the ground beneath the water, cursing your own hubris. The world is a haze of nausea, of light too bright from beneath curtains, and the silence, the isolation is so fucking loud. 

You’re in your hotel room wearing only your underwear, trying to fall back to sleep, hoping a nap would ease the throbbing of your head and the disgusting feeling in your stomach that has your skin crawling at the mere thought of food, when the phone rings. On instinct, you want to throw the phone across the room as the sound jackhammers through your skull, but you push down the reaction in favour of a loud groan before you pick up the phone.

“Y/N?” It’s Roger. You just grunt in response; at this point, you couldn’t care less what he thought of you, whether or not you were ladylike. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, mum,” you answered, voice icy, and you think he’s just going to be exasperated or dismissive, but he actually laughs, just a quiet chuckle.

“Well I’ll grab you something from the store, I’m getting some smokes,” he tells you, leaves little room for argument. You just huff, trying to recall all the details from the previous night.

“Piss off, dude, I don’t want your charity,” is what you tell him when you can’t seem to come up with much.

“Sorry, love, it’s not charity, it’s bullying; you’re going to rest and recover one way or the other,” his voice has a hard edge to it that has you frowning, mouth set in an angry line, “even if I have to call in Fred and Deaks.” The threat was clear; you couldn’t let them see how badly run down you’d gotten. Your defeated silence was answer enough. “I’ll be over in twenty, do you have a favourite fruit?”

It feels like a sick joke, that Roger Taylor is the one taking care of you on your day off, but in a twisted way, he’s the only one who could. He’s the only one who knows how much strain you’re really under, the only one who you didn’t care if they knew, and now... now here you were. Damn.

He knocks on the door claiming to have food, and calls bullshit when you claim to be too sick to open the door. He then loudly threatens to push the food beneath the crack in the door, and at that stage you’re horrified and mortified at how loud he’s being that you bundle yourself up in a robe and open the door anyways.

“You’re a menace.” You inform him.

“You’ve made that abundantly clear.” He nods without a trace of irony. “You look awful.” He informs, stepping past you into the room, tossing a sandwich, bottle of water, and an apple at the bed and draping himself on the sofa as you climb back into your fluffy sanctuary.

“I feel awful,” not even a little put out by his blunt assessment, you toe the food through the duvet, wrinkling your nose, “I’m not up for food.”

“Well I’m gonna be here until you eat that sandwich-”

“Don’t you have to go be irritating somewhere else?” You snapped, pulling the blankets up to your nose and turning away from him. There’s a long pause, then the rustling of a sandwich wrapper, and peering over the top of the bed sheets you see Roger eating his own sandwich, pointedly ignoring your question.

“Listen, love-”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Fine, listen, Y/N, you were well nasty to me last night when all I offered was help, so I get it, okay? I get that you don’t want to be friends, that you don’t want to see me, I know, alright?” He huffed, jaw clenched, holding his sandwich tighter than was probably necessary, “but until you tell someone else that you’re working yourself half to death, I’m gonna make damn sure you eat and sleep at a normal rate.” He gave a little ‘cheers’ motion with his sandwich, smile thin as it didn’t reach his eyes, and then he eats in silence.

Out of spite, you go back to sleep.

But... he’s there when you wake up, his shoes off, laying back on the sofa, a newspaper on his face where he’d apparently fallen asleep reading. Something about it, much to your own chagrin, is endearing. He could be anywhere else, doing anything or anyone, but he was here, true to his word. After a brief glance at the clock telling you it’s nearing midday, you have to concede that the apple at the very least is looking enticing.

The thing is, he’s not obvious about it, but he keeps to his word. The interactions you and Roger share are almost painfully clinical; sanitised and professional, but every day he’ll bring you lunch, keeping to himself behind his drums, not bothering you while you work. Sometimes you think you catch him watching you, and in those moments you look to him- and he is. He doesn’t look away, just gives a thoughtful smile, tells you you’re doing a good job, but nothing more. 

He’s not subdued by any stretch of the imagination, not with the band, nor with the rest of the tour group; he’s still loud and boisterous with anyone else, given half a chance, it only seems to be around you that he’s restrained. He’s polite, but cold, and something about it hurts, but you can’t quite articulate what or why.

“You know I can get my own lunch,” there’s actually amusement in your voice as you accept your store bought lunch today, a couple of weeks since you’d woken up with that hangover and your relationship with Roger having been turned on it’s head.

“But will you?” He asks, tone clipped, not looking at you. An emotion you couldn’t quite identify flicked over his face, perhaps a wince- something you weren’t meant to see, but either way his words hurt almost like a physical ache. But he waves away whatever answer you were going to give before you even give it. “Doesn’t matter, I promised I’d help, so I’m helping. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks.” Though your voice is quiet, a little forlorn, you can’t help but reach out and touch his arm in silent, gentle thanks, before taking the food. He looks at the point where your fingers had brushed his arm, blinking a few times before his jaw clenched and he went back to his drumkit.

Weird.

It’s not that you’ve forgiven him for what he’s done, but slowly, achingly slowly, you start to believe that he’s grown, that he’s changed. Maybe he can sense that; it’s gradual, but the interactions the two of you share become warmer, less clinical. They’re still professional, of course, but when you crack a joke at the top of a ladder, more often than not, he’ll actually laugh, rather than trying to repress a smile.

“You have this strange effect on him,” Freddie tells you over breakfast one morning, cradling a cup of tea with Brian nodding emphatically beside him, mouth full of eggs.

“When he sets his mind to something, he’s rather unstoppable,” after swallowing his mouthful, Brian agrees, “and he seems determined to try and mend things with you.” 

“But if you wanted me to, perhaps -” Freddie mused for a moment, but you’re already cutting him off with a wave of your hand.

“No, please no, I’m just trying to enjoy whatever the hell is happening.” But you can’t help but laugh at the situation you’d found yourself in. 

Four years ago you were doing an unpaid internship that would later get you a job with EMI, today you were a sought-after designer and technical officer, favoured personally by one of the biggest bands in the entire world, eating breakfast with them, and discussing your tumultuous relationship with the band themselves. Stranger things have happened, but not by a lot. 

You’re side of stage with your clipboard and headset every night, and you can’t help but beam, watching them all, so vivacious, feeding off the energy of the crowd before them. Sometimes Roger’s gaze will meet yours, and for the barest moment your grin widens, as if you’re sent back in time to that very first tour -

Which is terrible, because then you remember it’s now, and Roger looks away, still smiling, and you tell yourself that your heart is beating to the rhythm of the drums for purely unrelated reasons.

You just want to be able to look at his smile without feeling conflicted.

“Light!” You can hear the smile in Roger’s voice, and the nickname doesn’t grate like it once did, instead, you find yourself smiling where you’re hovering by a milk crate filled with extension cords. “Heads up, love.” He calls, but you don’t turn quick enough, and are just thankful that the sandwich that goes careening past your head is securely plastic wrap. He calls an apology while you go fetch it from where it dropped, but when you turn back, he’s hovering with an amused smile, offering an apple.

“What, you’re not gonna lob that at me too?” You half laughed, obligingly taking the fruit and heading to sit at the edge of the stage. 

“It’s not like you would have caught it either way,” he heads to sit by the drums. Like always, once he was seated, he didn’t tend to move, and as had become commonplace over the past few weeks, you tended to stay away unless you were working. The empty stage between you feels enormous. 

So maybe you sit by the proscenium arch this time.

It’s getting to be the end of American leg of the tour; you’re not worried like you’d been the first time around, all those years ago. This time they’d made it clear you would be accompanying them for the remainder of the tour. It was strange to say, but you felt somehow freer now than you did back then, you weren’t worried you were going to be kicked out at any moment, and you didn’t have to pretend like you didn’t exist to keep management happy. You’re free to be yourself. Which, unfortunately, includes having your anxiety ramp up as you board the flight to Japan.

In the past three years, you’d spent your life on a tour bus, never needing to leave the ground, and you liked it that way. Now, however, in the Queen’s private jet, surrounded by the few other crew members who would be making the international journey, you could feel your heart beating hard enough that it was likely to escape from your ribs.

“Not a fan of flying?” Deaky’s voice is barely reassuring at this moment, especially since he’s standing beside you rather than securing himself to a seat. He crouches beside you, gently taking your hand from it’s tight grip on the armrest.

“They’re- dude, they’re taxi-ing the plane, please sit down.” You implore him as you feel the plane rumbling against the tarmac. Deaky smiles patiently, giving your hand a squeeze, and taking the empty seat in front of you. Once you hear the click of his seatbelt, you frown. “Why are you here? Aren’t the others at the front?”

“I was asked to come check on you, and I see why,” he chuckles softly, and you purse your lips.

“Let me crash and burn in peace,” your nervousness seems to speak for you, but he doesn’t seem perturbed by it. Instead, his voice is calm and gentle as the plane begins to take off, asking you what you requested from the Japanese venues, if knew how the rig would change yet, and giving a quiet thanks for joining the tour in the first place. You give yourself a moment to think, to really consider his words, trying not to let your mind drift to your surrounding, before you answer, the tightness in your chest easing as your focus shifts.

Deaky happily listens, asks you questions here and there, and in turn, when you ask him about the trip, and about his family, he seems delighted to regale you with stories of Veronica and his son Robert, who’s almost one. It’s a long flight, around twelve hours, but once the plane’s at altitude, your anxiety drops, and you stand, stretching your legs, searching for some food. You officially regret not getting food at the departure gate.

“Hey,” John stands too, and you finally ask the question that had been sitting at the back of your mind since he’d sat down, “who asked you to check on me?” John gives you a strange little half-smile.

“Roger;” it’s not the answer you’re expecting, nor is his follow-up of, “he remembered you didn’t do so well last time, thought you should have company.”

It’s... endearing, not to mention easy to read on your face that you’re genuinely touched by the sentiment, but John at least has the decency to keep his thoughts to himself, heading back to the band.

You want to feel like you still have some sense of integrity, that you don’t feel like you’re throwing your past self under the bus because you want him to keep smiling at you because you miss it, miss him. But he won’t; he’s put himself on the end of a very short, proverbial leash, learning from his past mistakes. If he’s friends with you, just friends with you, he won’t hurt you.

And that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

But it’s difficult.

Japan is in many ways, at least in the ways that mattered to you, incredibly familiar; not much differs in terms of arena setups in various parts of the world. But in other ways, almost every other way, you felt like a fish out of water. You were touring with Queen for goodness sakes; when you were with them, it was like you were a celebrity by association, though fans would more often than not just shunt you to the side, but when you’re alone... well it’s always a bit of a shock to be far from home.

So you gravitate to what you know, to the people and places you know, and the drum risers feel ironically like somewhere safe. 

There’s people moving, buzzing about and setting up gymnasium they’re playing at in Nagoya, their second gig in as many days, and you’ve found yourself five minutes to actually take a break before you need to start a lamp check. It feels like it used to, in some sort of strange, not really at all, way, but you’re leaning back on the drum risers, and Roger’s tapping at his cymbal absentmindedly, and Deaky’s doing a sound check a few feet away.

“Spotlight,” it’s Roger, and the tapping has stopped. Looking back, you can’t help but smile up at him through the hardware of the drumkit to hand you a cigarette. You accept it, patting down your pockets for a lighter, before he clears his throat, and holds out his. 

He congratulates you on a quick set-up, to which you laughed, a mostly proud of your team, and you, in turn, make mention of how you’re in awe of his resilience; matinees and night shows every other day, and he still manages to get out almost every night. You’d seen him do it before, but here you’d expected him to slow down, just a little. And on top of that, he was still managing to keep you having at least one meal per day, two if you had the day off, but you don’t feel like you should mention that, no matter how much you appreciated it. You haven’t been tired in weeks; everything’s still getting set up on time, the world has kept spinning. You can concede, albeit silently, that he was right. But right now, he’s smiling back at you, and this did not go unnoticed.

“Well fuck,” Freddie huffed, expression thoughtful as he leaned himself onto Brian’s amp as the guitarist was running a sound check, “they’re pinning over one another again.”

“Freddie, wasn’t that your plan?” Brian, only half listening, asked.

“My plan was to work with Spotlight again, and to get Roger to perhaps admit that he had been wrong once in his life, but that was before I knew what he’d done.” Freddie explains, watching you and Roger actually laughing together, caught up in your own little world.

“And so now... she seems happy again - they both do - and you’re... what? Annoyed? Come on, mate.” Brian pauses, his fingers silencing his strings as he turns to his bandmate.

“Darling, you know I want only the best for them, but pining is just painful for everyone.” He sighed, completely ignoring Brian, who was quietly begging him not to play Cupid, “sometimes we must lock the ones we love in a dressing room until they discuss their situation and stop acting like children.”

“Acting like- Freddie, do you even hear yourself?” Brian’s claims that that might just exacerbate the problem also fall on deaf ears.

He doesn’t, for the record, lock you and Roger in a dressing room, though it takes both Brian and Deaky to convince him not to. Honestly, it seems like he doesn’t even need to.The tension that was there at the start of the tour has all but evaporated, and things between you and Roger are easy comparatively. You try to reason that you’re just searching for familiarity in such an unfamiliar setting, but it’s beginning to feel like old times. 

You try and get the attention of your team by clapping out a rhythm, and he’ll often repeat the rhythm on the drums, which serves to make you grin. Some days they’ll have a matinee show; it’s a pain to set up, means you’re getting up before the sun, but during the show, you give yourself time to slip out, putting one of your subordinates in charge while you steal away to the nearest convenience store to pick up lunch for yourself and Roger. Part of you doesn’t want to break the ritual, even for a day.

You’ll spend lunchtimes sitting side by side on the drum risers, smoking and looking through tabloids, though neither of you care much for the information itself. You don’t even seem to notice how close you are, his shoulder brushing yours, knee leaning against your knee where you’ve got the magazine propped up. Sometimes, when Roger seems to realise, he’ll move like contact burns him, careful to keep his distance, but today, before their third show in Tokyo, he looks over at where you’re intently reading some mis-translated headline, he actually smiles.

Japan comes to an end, and you’re dreading the plane trip to Australia. 

You don’t beat around the bush this time, and sit yourself in the seat beside Roger as soon as you board the plane. He seems bemused, but welcomes you.

“So you don’t have to have Deaky come distract me,” you explained with a wry, if tight smile. Roger snorts, but can’t hide his reddening cheeks.

“No idea what you’re on about.”

It’s just getting into April now, Autumn in Australia that still manages to feel like Summer in certain states in America. The beaches are pristine and the people are beautiful, if rough around the edges. It’s a shock coming from Japan to Australia; curse words are tossed around like they mean nothing, and well, they’re just words, they don’t actually mean anything, but it’s still jarring to hear. 

The tour bus gets cut off in traffic in Perth by a painfully shiny, silver car, and you hear an assistant stage manager mutter under their breath.

“Shit-cunt, of course he’d drive a Holden.” And maybe sixty percent of what he’s said makes any sense to you. At times, it feels a little like an alien planet. The band seems to feel more at home here, however, and that’s all that matters. 

You find you come to like it, the people relaxed yet efficient, the sunset over the ocean like liquid gold when you get to watch it. Most people here are more forgiving of your smoke breaks - smoko, someone had once called it, with a surprising confidence - and brash and loud, with an air of affection. Interns and assistants lean all over each other, pass cigarettes like sharing ‘a dart’ as they would call it, was second nature, that being when they weren’t calling it a ‘ciggie’, both of which were terms you refused to use. Roger told you to relax a little, gently teasing, but wraps a loose arm around you, accepting when one of the dressers offers him a drag on her cigarette. You’re a little stunned at first; it’s as if you can feel every point where he makes contact with you. 

Maybe you should slap him, tell him to get his hands off of you, but instead, you... relax a little. Pulling a box of cigarettes from your pocket, you ask for a light, and several of the techies offer you theirs. 

And you lean into him.

It’s a slippery slope. The land down under, of seafood and wine, has you under some sort of spell, you tell yourself. But you know you felt this way back in Japan, back at the tail end of the American leg.

“Hey Rog,” your heart hammering in your throat, you call him away before he steps into the dressing room, and when he turns to you, he’s grinning, bright and easy, “I- after the show, could I have a word?” 

“‘course!” He nods, and is gone in a flurry, not seeming to pick up on your nervous energy. 

Your heart’s not in the show tonight. It’s all you can do to focus on the technical elements, noting down anything that may need to be looked at before tomorrow’s show. You’re so focused on making sure everything’s ready for the next day, and not on the way your stomach’s twisting itself into knots, that when Roger comes to find you, it comes as something as a shock.

“A word?” He asked, still smiling, still shining with sweat and endorphins, a towel around his neck. Absolutely gorgeous.

“A word.” You agreed. He takes you to the dressing room, which has since been vacated by the others, looking to head back to their hotel rooms, or perhaps a club. All their costumes sat haphazardly around, and you have no idea what you actually want to say. 

“I have to-” the words get caught in your throat. You’re leaning against one of the makeup tables, it’s lights still on by your back, making you sweat, making you more nervous somehow. Roger’s sitting on his hands, on a bench opposite you, waiting expectantly, smiling just a little.

“How do I say I’m tired of being professional, but still have integrity?” The words spill from your lips, staining the space between the two of you. “Because I like you now, just as much as I ever liked you before, but I can’t -” Roger’s smile is fading, darkening. You can’t meet his gaze because - oh fuck, this isn’t what you wanted, not what you wanted at all, “- am I misreading this? Tell me if I am, because I’ll fuck off and leave you alone, we can be friends and I can be happy, because I’ve missed being friends, being -” 

“What are you asking?” He asks quietly, and you finally look up, see his confusion, and you feel it again; the space between you, the few feet, it feels enormous.

“Am I misreading us?”

Silence. 

“What do you want from me, Spotlight?” But he’s smiling now when he breaks the silence, and there’s a relief that comes with it. He looks a little bit amused, taking the towel from around his neck, and scrubbing it over his face as he watches you compose your thoughts.

“You’re not the same person you were then.”

“Do you want him?”

“Absolutely not.” You swallow hard, and Roger gently puts the towel to the side, getting to his feet, actually smirking. “Can we stop holding each other at arm’s length?” You asked, voice gentle, hopeful. Roger beckons you to him, and meets you in the middle. 

“You know,” he mused, taking your face in his hands. His gaze roams your face, as if fixing this moment, your soft expression, in his memory, “I actually missed you, believe it or not.” And it’s as if your heart explodes.

After everything had happened, after only spending a few months with him, he missed you. You’d crammed every day, every moment with activities, just so you’d never had the opportunity to think about, to miss him, though you had, despite your best efforts. Words don’t suffice at this moment, so you kiss him, in the middle of the dressing room, the feeling of his lips against yours both familiar and new all at once. 

Things don’t change much for the tour, though find yourself sharing Roger’s room more often than not, and he’s got his arm around you whenever the opportunity arose. Freddie always seemed rather smug whenever he noticed, but he had the good grace not to say anything smug to you. 

You still work hard, still dedicated to a fault, but when the band comes off stage, Roger wraps you up in a hug, and gives you a small, amused salute before you run on stage to help bump out once the crowd is gone. You don’t care if the rest of the crew stare, you just congratulate him on his show, before ushering one of your assistants to help you move a ladder into position. 

“What happens after the tour?” You ask at one of the last after parties, sitting in a loveseat with his arm around you.

“I think I’ll need a holiday,” Roger admits, half laughing, though it’s not really a joke, and you hear the unspoken, ‘and I think you need one too’. Well, he’s not wrong. It’s been years since you’d taken time for yourself. There’s something to be said for enjoying your job, but you’d been burning out hard before Roger had stepped in to help you get yourself back in order.

“Where would you go?” You ask, shooting for nonchalance. Roger hums for a beat, before turning to you, smiling.

“Feels like I’ve been everywhere by now; where do you wanna go?” 

And you hear it loud and clear; because I’d go to the ends of the Earth for you.

tagging those who showed interest. @tensecondvacation @bohemiansweede @fadingpsychiccopbiscuit @rogahs-drowse @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @fanficsupporter @siriuslymooned @legendsaresooftenwarnings @joemazzellhoe @happycamper72

[scholasticbabe]

25 Ways To Save In College That Work

Let’s face it, most college students are flat out broke. Yet the temptation to live it up and blow through whatever money you do have is absolutely crazy.

I’ve been there. Hell, I practically lived there.

During my freshman year, I blew through most of my savings. It was so bad I really had to start getting serious and see where could I cut back so I could still enjoy going out with my friends occasionally. It was hard at first because I was so used to not thinking about how I was spending.

But saving is like a superpower once you realize it’s possible it becomes easier. You don’t have to fall into the broke college student stereotype! College is filled with tiny ways you can save that will save you thousands over the long hall.

Now if you’re like me you’ve probably read a few of these “10 easy ways to save” articles a million times and the advice can be pretty sketchy and not easy to implement in your life at all.

Well here are ways that I’ve actually used as a college student myself, to not only save but still have fun while doing it.

1. Shop at the dollar store

You would be surprised at what you can get at the dollar store! Everything from small personal care items to cleaning supplies. My favorite thing to do is to stack up on all the cheap snacks and host movie nights in my dorm room.

2. Share account access to streaming services

This was something my roommate and I did. We wanted to watch more shows that were not on Netflix so we decided that I would pay for Hulu and she would pay for HBO. Our dorm was the best place to be because just about every movie or tv show you could think of, yet neither of us had to foot the whole bill. So try sharing accounts with friends and family.

3. Stop buying books use your college library instead

For over two years now I've worked at my college library and it blows my mind that a lot of students don’t know that they can find textbooks at their college library.

Not only do professors sometimes submit copies of books to the library, but a lot of humanities textbooks are in the general collection! Always always check your library to see if they have a copy of your textbook before you start looking online.

4. Don't do unpaid internships/ apply for college funding

I have a secret. I’ve never done an unpaid internship (and I don’t plan to). Not only am I broke but it’s unethical to work for long hours without getting paid and not everyone can do that.

As a history major almost ALL internships are unpaid. I’ve gotten around that by applying for internship stipends through my college.

Almost all colleges have them, so if you get internship contact your school’s career center and ask about funding opportunities! You don’t have to use your own money and you really shouldn’t have to.  

5. Unsubscribe to marketing emails

Yes, I’m looking at you with an inbox filled to the thousands filled with promotional emails.

Something I did this year when I was trying a no spend month was to unsubscribe from particularly tempting stores. It’s hard to focus on what you have and what’s important to you when you’re always being sold to. Do yourself the favor of cutting that shit out. Marketing emails are truly the devil.

6. Download coupon apps

This one is such an easy fix and yet so many people don’t do it! I use Honey for my online shopping purchases and I’ve never not saved on a purchase! For in-store shopping I use retailmenot to find coupon codes. These are such passive ways to save you’re losing money if you don’t use them.  

7. Abandon your cart

This is a sneaky trick I learned by accident. Once I was looking for a backpack and I was browsing through and I added the bag to my cart but I was still on the fence of dishing out 60 dollars for a backpack. When I checked my email only to see the company sent an email to remind me of the bag in my cart and offered 30% off. I was blown away and ever since then I always abandon my cart to see what kind of deals companies give.

8. Use influencer codes/links

You really should be doing this. The people you follow should add value to your life and one way that can add value is to provide you with discount codes! If there’s a product you're interested in you might want to look up reviews of that product or just mentions and see if there are any influencers who have codes for that product. Not only do they get a commission but you get to see the product in action and then save on your purchase.

9. Pack your stuff well at the end of the year

If you live out of state (or even in-state to be honest! ) you can lose massive amounts of money at the end of the year by throwing out perfectly good items because you have nowhere to put them. To combat this start packing your stuff early like a week or two before moving out and strategically pack your stuff and put a protective covering over things that can be damaged easily.

There’s no reason for you to have to keep repurchasing the same items every time you move back into college.  

10. Read the instruction on your clothing

This is something I recently started doing and it was an eye-opener. If you don’t do this you might not realize a lot of clothing have specialized care instruction and most time you just throw everything into the washer without looking to see what those care tips are.

If you’ve ever had a nice top that looked raggedy after you threw into the dryer then you might not realize that item was supposed to be air-dried. Save your self the time and money from constantly having to repurchase items due to improper care.

KEEP READING 

[hypomanicsatanicpanic]

cw abuse, cults

In Chicago, I used to organize in a group that used an Alinskyist model. This model emphasizes "constructive" conflict and a top-down hierarchical structure. It was exceptionally abusive in practice.

Initial one-to-one meetings there were treated less like short agitations plus an ask, but as a tool to get new members to divulge their deep traumas so that they could be leveraged later on. It developed a kind of trauma bonding between organizers that felt really good at the time but would always come back later to bite you. Unwillingness to divulge this type of information either in private or in front of a crowd was always treated as resistance to be overcome, a wall to chip down, rather than a boundary there for a reason. Folks who resisted were just seen as "not ready to be radicalized," and we were encouraged to leave them be. So, in effect, the group preyed on victims of systemic and personal abuse, just like a cult.

My first "major" role in this organization involved planning a huge event. That was the first and only time I've ever gotten stress hives, because the cost of failing felt so high. Going to a one-week training they hosted was intensely awful. One of the exercises from that training that I remember best was an impossible group roleplay - we were divided into teams and told to take different organizing strategies to get what you wanted from the situation via compromise. Both teams came up with totally respectable strategies that would likely have worked IRL, but the moderate harshly criticized the whole group by "playing by the rules." Multiple people cried in sessions during the week because of the intense power games the moderators played with them. It triggered a really terrible month long depressive episode in me, and at least three others I knew ended up in going into inpatient mental health treatment as a result of attending that week long training.

Running on trauma and anger also meant that the organizing we were doing was running on pure anxiety, which left all of us burned out and retraumatized over and over. It was also financially unsustainable: summer organizing ran on unpaid internships (I went hungry for a summer to be able to do this). You were pressured to spend less time at your real work or side jobs to give more time to the cause. You were pressured to give slightly more money than you felt comfortable donating, because we were "funding our own liberation." You were pressured to ask friends and family for twice as much as you expected them to be able to give, in case they said yes. You were shamed for not meeting unrealistic targets that you were pressured to set for yourself.

And there was no care or mutual aid within the group. There was no accountability for ableism or antisemitism, no accountability for sexism or classism, and there was no accountability for the fact that the lead (read: paid) organizers were all Ivy-educated white folks. I was personally fired from being an administrative assistant for disability-related reasons. I went hungry again.

Failing to live to the group's impossibly high expectations meant "agitation" from people you thought of as your friends, who then used your trauma against you to push you back in line. People didn't quit because your fellow organizers were your friends, and to leave meant to be cut out.

Leaving was like leaving a cult. To this day I don't regularly speak to anyone I knew from that organization. Only now, when people are starting to come out and call out the abusive tactics on social media, am I getting even close to comfortable re-engaging when any of them.

I guess the most fucked up part of this, to me, was that these tactics often got really amazing short-term results. They got many progressive aldermen elected to a Daley- controlled council. They had multiple policy victories, including preventing fracking for many years in IL. Even if they rapidly burned through organizers, they won. Which meant a lot of us stuck with them and perpetuated the same abusive tactics and continued thinking we were doing the right thing.

It's been a real fucking trip trying to organize with the union I'm currently fighting to build, while doing my utmost to break away from those tactics, to process what was done to me, and what I've done. My current group uses a much more democratic, much less abusive/consumptive model, but I still am always questioning everything and still perpetually worry that I'm recreating this abusive cycle (though I'm doing everything in my power to do things differently this time). I want to apologize to those I hurt with these tactics during my past organizing life, but I'm not sure if it would cause them even more harm to reopen that wound. And ultimately the apology is for them, not for me.

[cancerbiophd]

hello! i was looking through your career stories tag and was inspired to ask for some advice of my own. lately i've been feeling very lost in undergrad. in high school, i was super successful, had goals and stuck to them, and had a path in mind. however, i ended up revising that plan a million times, and now i feel super behind in comparison to my peers. i feel like i lack a ton of skills and that i'm not where i should be (1/2)

(2/2) do you have any advice? and do you/your followers have any stories about people who were successful, got stuck in a rut, but found their way back? i keep reading stories about people who didn’t do well in school then found a successful career, but i never hear about people who were successful in school, got lost, then recovered, and it makes me wonder if there’s hope for me

Hi anon! (Thanks for sending in that 2nd part again after tumblr ate it the first time round)

I fee like I took a similar path to you, and before I launch into my story, here’s my advice on some things you can try:

Break the bad habit of comparing oneself to others. We are all unique, with unique pasts, presents, and futures. To compare two people’s achievements or lack of achievements is unfair. That’s giving an experimental treatment to a sick person and another to someone already healthy and then comparing the results directly to each other. Not a good scientific study huh. Well, we should look at our lives like that too. It’ll take time and practice and a lot of active thinking, but let’s all try our hardest not to compare ourselves to others. We are all carving out our own paths. 

Talk to others with experience and get their insight. Talk to your professors, your counselors, your parents, your parents’ friends, and even older students (like me!). Ask them for advice. Ask them what opportunities you have. Ask them what career choices one can make with your interests and goals. Basically, broaden your knowledge of what’s out there in the world so you can find a niche to fit in. I really wish I had done this because I was very myopic in that “interest in biomedicine” = “clinical doctor or bust!”. I didn’t know that I could go to grad school to study cancer research and then go work in a biotech company (my current path and goal). 

Once you find a career path that interests you, try to experience what “a day in the life of” is like. Because something that sounds great on paper may not be a good fit in person, and vice versa. Options for this include: volunteering, internships, entry-level jobs, shadowing, informational interviews (where you talk to someone in the field in a casual setting and ask them what their job is like), and well-rounded research. Doing things like working in the field or even shadowing also gives you the benefit of learning transferrable skills that could help you on your next step. And that brings me to:

Take a gap year (or a few) if you feel like you need it, especially if you need to gain more experience in a certain field. It’s also a great way to give your body and mind a well-deserved break after decades of school! I took a gap year (well, 2.5 years) to work and get lab experience and it was the best. 

Do not give yourself a timeline. This sounds… counter-intuitive, but what I mean is: do not set goals like “dream job at age 30!!” “a house at age 31!!” because they may be a) unrealistic, and b) could set us up for disappointment. Also, we need to realize that we don’t know what the future will bring, and that it’s also ok to take one’s time. We’re all gonna live until we’re 70-80 anyway right? So let’s just take things one step at a time. We’ll set goals and work towards them, yes, but let’s not set deadlines for ourselves. We’ve had enough deadlines in school already! 

Don’t give up. Things will be ok. I know it’s not.. super helpful for me to say this, but it’s a real point to make. No matter what happens, keep trying. We can’t reach the light at the end of the tunnel if we stop walking forward, yeah? 

I hope those points are helpful. If you’d like more detail, or have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me!

Alright, now to my story, because I feel like I may have gone through the same thing you’re going through right now, so I want to let you know that times may get tough like it did for me, but if you keep going and trying, things will eventually be ok:

Just like you, I was pretty darn successful in high school, also did well in college (like good grades, had goals and met them, etc). I always knew my path was going to lead me somewhere amazing, because that’s how I was brought up my entire life. Then I got stuck in a rut because my original plan A (med school) turned out to not be right for me, and then plan B also turned out not right either (pharmacy school), and then I got straight out rejected from plan C (physician assistant school). I even had to change my major 3 times because of my change of plans (well, one change was because the US recession hit and my college had to cut my original program ugh), so I had to really cram my classes into the summer. I graduated college with a degree that wasn’t going to get me where I wanted to (B.S. in Microbiology, and jobs were still hard to find because of the recession, and basically nowhere to go. I had no job and had no idea what to do (or what I really wanted, really). So I moved back home with a feeling of emptiness that no end in sight. 

My plan was basically to find a job that would open doors for me in the biomedical field. I even got my pharmacy tech license, and I was applying to receptionist positions at clinics. It got to a point where I was so desperate I interviewed to be someone’s personal assistant and they were like “you are way too qualified for this I can’t hire you”. 

And I was so confused as to how I could’ve ended up on the wrong path. I mean, I knew what I did wrong (I didn’t do those point of advice I gave earlier because I didn’t know I had to do them). But I didn’t know how it went so wrong. How did I go from straight A/B’s and proactive student leader in a bunch of clubs to unemployed with no concrete plan in sight? I was bright. I was a hard worker. A fast learner. I knew I could be good at anything I did. This rut I was in wasn’t really supposed to happen. And all the while my friends were going to grad/med school or starting successful careers–a fact my narcissistic and emotionally abusive mother would remind me of every. waking. moment. She would scream at me every day that I was an embarrassment, a disappointment, a “poor investment”, etc. The look of pure hatred she would give me–I have never seen that on another person’s face ever. I couldn’t even see my friends because she essentially put me on house arrest as “punishment”. 

It really was absolute hell. I was cleaning some old storage boxes recently and I found my old diary from that time, and inside was a note. It was a note of despair and resentment and an ending that may have happened… I don’t remember how I got the strength to keep going, but I think I had conjured up the slightest sliver of hope that night, put down my pen, closed the journal, and went to bed. 

So, I kept at it. I studied for the GRE, I looked up grad school programs, and I kept applying to jobs in the biomedical field. I got picked up by a temp agency that was hiring out contract workers to local science companies, and even interviewed for a few available positions. Things were looking a bit better. 

Then I saw a job ad on craigslist looking for a research tech at a lab at my old college. I applied, interviewed, and was turned down. Bummer. Then my mother (in a rare moment of helpfulness) asked a friend of a friend who was a PI in a research institute in Florida if they wanted a totally free unpaid intern. I had a skype interview and they accepted, and I was getting ready to move halfway across the country to be a volunteer with a Bachelor’s degree when I got an email from another new PI at my old college. She had gotten my application from the first PI who I had interviewed with and wanted to meet to see if I could be her research tech. And then literally a week before I was supposed to move to Florida that PI told me she wanted to hire me. Oh thank god. I had graduated in May, and got hired at this position in October. Even though it was only 5 months, it felt like forever for me to finally find my way out of the dark cave and back into the light. 

This PI did research on cancer biomarkers. Working in her lab was one of the best things to ever happen to me: I got the lab experience I was missing, I found a love for cancer research in particular, I applied for (and got into) grad school to study Cancer Biology, and I met a coworker who eventually became my husband (and you betcha we invited the PI to our wedding and asked her to give a speech lol). 

I graduate (hopefully) next semester with my PhD in Cancer Biology, and my husband and I plan on moving to Seattle (a biotech hub) afterwards. I plan on getting a post-doc position at the Fred Hutch Cancer Center, then a scientist position at a local biotech company, and then see where that takes me. Life is good now. Things really did turn out ok. 

I’m so glad I never gave up. 

And I hope you won’t give up either, anon. I pray you don’t have to go through anything as tough but! Yes there’s still hope for you! There is always hope

[electronicgrowth]

Guardian Angel: Chapter 6

We’re getting in to where we overlap with the movie a bit. So, spoilers. I think we’re getting close to the end here friends. 

WC: 2308

Warnings: talks of Plan B, police, major spoilers

One of the first things I did when I got back to San Francisco was stop by the pharmacy to get Plan B. On the plane I realized that now wasn’t the time for a baby. 

Ethan was irate that I went back to Massachusetts so close to the wedding, he was also angry that I didn’t tell him. I had to remind him that I was an adult. I just proceeded to help Maya with wedding details. 

Ethan and Maya got married at a hilltop winery in Napa Valley. Just family and close friends. It was a beautiful wedding. Anyone with eyes could see that Maya and Ethan were ridiculously in love. I couldn’t help think of Ransom. The last time I had seen him, he had promised me this kind of life. The marriage, the kids. I resolved to call him tomorrow.

During the reception I received several calls from a number I didn’t recognize, although the area code was a Boston one. Finally after the ninth call I answered.

“Hello?” I said, stepping outside away from the festivities.

“Leah?” The voice on the other end asked. It was a woman’s voice.

“Yes, this is Leah,” I answered.

“Leah, it’s Linda Drysdale. Ransom’s mother,” she said.

“Oh, Linda. Hi,” I awkwardly uttered. 

“Hi, sweetie,” she said. What? Sweetie? Had this woman ever called me sweetie? The last time she had seen me I was getting called a whore.

“Is everything okay, Linda?” I asked.

“Actually, no,” she answered, “I need you to come back to Massachusetts. Ransom’s been arrested. And we need you as a character witness.”

“Oh god. Okay. Arrested for what?” I asked.

“We can talk about everything when you get back here,” she answered. 

“Um, I’m at my brother’s wedding. But I can fly out tomorrow is that good?” I said.

“That’s fine honey,” Linda sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night,” I murmured before ending the call. 

The next morning I pack all my stuff and flew back to Massachusetts. I didn’t tell Ethan and Maya any specifics. But I promised to call and text. 

I landed in Boston that afternoon and got a car to Ransom’s house. There were more cars in the driveway than I had ever seen. Ransom’s car wasn’t there though. I let myself in this time. Ransom was sitting in the living room surrounded by Linda, Richard, and three men I had never seen before. When I barged in, everyone turned to look at me. 

“Leah, dear,” Linda smiled walking toward me, “I hardly recognized you. Your hair looks great that color.” She pulled me into a stiff hug and kissed my cheek. I wasn’t used to this level of affection from Linda, but returned the hug nevertheless. 

“Leah, these are Ransom’s lawyers, Kenneth Hill, Eric Musgraves, and Rodney Phillips. Gentlemen, this is Leah Becker, Ransom’s girlfriend,” Richard said. 

I awkward waved from where I stood next to Linda near the doorway. I didn’t realize I still held the title of girlfriend. 

“Ransom, why don’t you help Leah with her luggage?” Linda scolded. This prompted Ransom to look at me for the first time since I had arrived. He rolled his eyes at his mother, but stood and grabbed my suitcase with one hand, he grabbed my hand in his other. He hauled the suitcase and me back to his bedroom. I could feel all the eyes on me. He quickly shut his bedroom door behind us. 

“What is going on, Ransom?” I asked.

“I messed up,” he murmured, eyes on the floor. I took off my coat and scarf and grabbed his face. He looked me in the eyes, tears welling up in his blue eyes. 

“We have to go back out there, the lawyers will explain,” Ransom whispered. 

“Okay,” I said, nodding turning to go back to the living room. 

“Wait,” he commanded, “Please put this back on. For me.” He held up my necklace. The one he’d bought me for my last birthday. The one I took off before I flew to California. 

I nodded, turning around so he could put it on me. He quickly fastened it. He leaned down to kiss my neck. I closed my eyes, absorbing the pleasure. I backed into him, wanting to get closer. He turned me back around and pushed me against the bedroom door, he quickly kissed me. I opened my mouth to his and pulled him closer to me. He pulled away moments later.

“I’m sorry that I left,” I apologized, “I was going to call you.”

He kissed me again. 

“Please don’t leave me again,” he begged.

“I won’t,” I promised. 

Ransom held my hand and lead me out of his room. We returned to the living room, Ransom took the seat he had been in when I’d gotten there. I sat on the arm of Ransom’s chair, and he put his arm around me. 

“So, who’s going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked. 

The lawyers proceeded to tell me what Ransom was accused of. Conspiracy to commit manslaughter, arson, and murder. His grandfather. Fran. It was a lot to absorb. 

“The police claim to have a recording where Ransom admits everything,” said one lawyer, I wasn’t clear on which was which. 

“If that recording goes away, it’s all circumstantial, right?” Linda asked. 

“Yes, without the recording, no jury alive would convict Ransom,” said another lawyer, “especially, if his girlfriend takes the stand and talks about how amazing he is.” Everyone looked at me. Was I supposed to say something? Luckily, I was saved by my phone ringing. 

“That might be my brother, so I should get that,” I mumbled weakly. I got up and saw that it was not Ethan. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway, to get out of this conversation, if nothing else. 

“Hello?” I answered.

“Is this Leah Becker?” The voice asked. 

“Yes, it is,” I said, walking into the kitchen, away from listening ears. 

“Miss Becker, this is Detective Lieutenant Elliot. I understand that you just returned from a family wedding on the west coast,” he stated. 

“Umm, yes,” I stammered, “how can I help you?”

“I would like to ask you to come down to the station. We would like to ask you some questions about Hugh Drysdale,” he declared.

“Oh, I don’t know. I—“

“Today, Miss Becker,” he said, before hanging up the phone. 

I walked back to the living room. And went to sit back by Ransom. 

“Who was that on the phone, baby?” He asked.

“The police,” I answered, “they want to talk to me. As soon as possible.”

*****

I went to the station later that afternoon with the youngest of Ransom’s lawyers, Rodney Phillips. I was greeted by an older woman with straw-like hair, and eyes clouded by mascara goop. I told her that I was there to meet with a Detective Elliot. I was shown into an interrogation room, I assumed that was done to freak me out. I waited about fifteen minutes before two men walked in. 

“Miss Becker, I’m Detective Elliot, and this is Trooper Wagner,” one man said. 

“Hi, so why am I here?” I asked. 

“We just have a few questions,” Trooper Wagner answered.

“Tell us about your relationship with Ransom Drysdale,” says Detective Elliot.

“I met Ransom years ago. He was my brother, Charlie’s roommate at Harvard. I’m Charlie’s baby sister, so he went to college when I was still really young. Charlie and Ransom did everything together. Best friends, I guess. My mom disappeared when I was a kid. She decided that she was sick of the whole wife of a public defender thing. She hated kids, so she left the three of us with dad. And then my dad died when I was sixteen. He got in an accident, the other guy was drunk. So, I went to live with Charlie and Ransom after that. They had just graduated a few years before. So, having me around must have really cramped their style,” I said.

“Where is Charlie now?” Elliot asks. 

“Charlie is— Charlie passed away about four years ago. After college he got a job on Wall Street. And you know, coke is the name of the game for young guys over there,” I hesitated, “He didn’t overdose or anything. The doctors think he had an arrhythmia that he never knew about. I fell apart after Charlie died. My other brother, Ethan, is out in California doing the whole tech thing, so he wasn’t there.”

“And around that time, you became much closer with Ransom Drysdale?”

“Yes. He took care of me. I could barely get out of bed. I didn’t really know what to do. He made sure I ate and showered. Helped me go to school,” I responded.

“When you were 23 you were involved in a car accident. One where you were pretty critically injured. How did that affect your relationship with Ransom?”

“Well, it was right after I graduated college. I was working an unpaid internship at a super small publishing company and working shitty hours as a receptionist. But, I was on my own and it was fun. But yeah, I was driving home late one night and my brakes went out. I— I, um, went off the road. Well, actually I flipped the car. A few times. I was pretty badly injured. Like the works, broken bones, concussion, cuts, I actually had to have my left knee totally reconstructed. While I healed Ransom took care of me. He even convinced Harlan to help foot my hospital bills.”

“After you recovered, you went to work at the publishing company owned by the Thrombey’s? Is that correct?”

“Yeah. When I graduated, Ransom offered to help me get a job there. Initially, I turned it down because I wanted to make my own way. After my hospital stay, I really needed the money. So, Ransom helped me get a job.”

“Has your relationship with Ransom evolved beyond just one of friendship?”

“Ransom has been— the only constant in my life for five years. He’s my guardian angel, my very best friend.”

“But is there more to your relationship than a friendship, Miss Becker?”

“No.” I lied.

“Really?” Asked Trooper Wagner.

“We have numerous members of the Thrombey family on record saying that you two were involved. Sexually,” counters Detective Elliot. 

“What does that have to do with the matter at hand?” I inquire.

“I suppose we’re just curious about the type of woman who gets involved with a man like that,” Trooper Wagner spits out, “Did he tell you what he did?”

I look down, at my fingers laced together on the tabletop. I refused to answer.

“Here’s the recording of Ransom admitting everything,” Detective Elliot said, placing his phone on the table in front of me. The recording was horrifying. I listened to it for about a minute. 

“Turn it off,” I demanded. 

Both men ignored me. 

“I said, turn it off!” I yelled throwing the phone against the wall of interrogation room. 

“We’re leaving now,” said Rodney. 

“You can’t leave,” Trooper Wagner exclaimed, “she just destroyed evidence.” 

“What?” I gasped. 

“That was our only copy of that recording,” Trooper Wagner shouted. 

“Miss Becker had no way of knowing that. Her outburst was clearly a stress-induced reaction and if you wish to charge her, you know where to find her,” Rodney maintained, pulling me out of the interrogation room, and escorting me out of the police station. 

When Rodney and I returned to the house, everyone else was still there, having coffee. 

“I think Leah just found a solution to our biggest problem,” Rodney smirked. 

“What do you mean?” Kenneth asked.

“She threw the cell phone with the recording at a wall. And it was the only copy of the recording,” Rodney’s smirk grew into a mischievous smile. 

“We’ll have to make verify that it was the only copy of the recording with our guy on the inside,” said Eric, “But this is good, very good.” 

“Gentlemen, I think that is enough for today,” Richard called. The lawyers all agreed that we would meet again tomorrow. Everyone filed out. I gathered the coffee cups that had been left scattered in Ransom’s living room. 

Ransom locked the door behind the lawyers and his parents. I took the used cups to the kitchen and began loading the dishwasher. Ransom followed me into the kitchen He sat at the counter, watching me place the mugs precariously on the top rack of the dishwasher. 

“I guess we deserve each other,” I mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Ransom asked me. 

“You commit crimes, and I unwittingly destroy police evidence,” I laughed hysterically, slapping my hands over my eyes. Ransom stood up and closed the dishwasher, he then lifted me up to sit on the kitchen counter, he came to stand in between my legs. 

“How about we say that we deserve each other because we love each other?” He murmured, “Maybe the rest doesn’t matter, at least not in terms of our relationship.”

“How do you feel about everything?” I asked, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“I don’t know,” he answered, holding my hand in place with his, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

I hesitated. I knew Ransom well enough to know what he was referring to, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know.

“Come on, Bunny. Ask me,” he urged, looking in my eyes.

“Why did you do it?” I relented. 

“Harlan was cutting me off. I knew that I could never deserve you without the money,” he answered, “It just got out of hand.”

“Ransom, the money is nice, but it’s never mattered,” I placated. 

“I’m going to find a way to provide for us,” he insisted, “And anyone else who comes along.” 

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