#thoughts from a grad student on strike

[dionysus-complex]

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[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) II ch. II

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 5,044

Warnings: 8-year age gap, flashbacks of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, cute coupley stuff that idk anyone will like but 🥺 👉👈, jk says cawk , idk why this is a warning

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: Hi guys! I'm back! I thought I'd start off with a little flashback and then diving back into the story. Also, big thing–I decided not to make jk a complete butt. I don't want this story to be about "jk finally coming around after treating oc like garbage for wanting a kid". It's more of a we'll figure-it-out-together kinda thing though there will be bumps in the road. Anyway, enjoy 🥰

<< ch.I ༓ ch. III >> | series masterlist

To say falling in love with Jungkook was an effortless, butterflies-in-your-tummy, love-at-first-sight, you-know-it-when-you-see-it sort of affair is far from the truth. In actuality, you and Jungkook met on a very normal basis and had very normal rapport…well, somewhat normal.

Jungkook was your economics professor in grad school and you were merely one out of eighty of his students during the first semester. Surely you'd be walking out with no more than a barely scrimmaged 'A' and remnants of stupid economics jokes he and his colleagues found slapstick funny.

Jungkook always had an interesting sense of humor.

Bottom line? Your life wasn't a drama and you certainly didn't plan on living like it was–especially when your parents were on your tail, making sure their hard-earned money was well spent.

As if being bonked on the head by something called fate, however, Jungkook sent you away with far more than odd jokes and good grades.

Hey, hindsight is 20/20.

four years ago

“Oh, good morning.” A soft, yet hoarse voice strides past you. You view the man, estimating that he be in his early 30s though could easily pass for 25 by his youthful appearance. His hair is black, a bit shaggy but well-kept nonetheless. Silver piercings dangle from his ears and a pair of rectangular glasses rest on his perfectly symmetrical face. This is your professor?

Undoubtedly, what mesmerizes you the most is the striking arm tattoo partially displayed under the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt. You remember temporarily considering tattoo artistry in high school but studio arts appealed to you more.

Not like you got to do either though, seeing as you’ve been stuck in econ for the fifth year in a row. You’re parents insisted you get your master’s immediately after undergrad…how wonderful for you.

But back to the man at the front of the room. You weren’t expecting someone so hip and attractive–very, very attractive.

Your stomach churns but you brush the feeling away.

He's your professor for god sake.

The man, coincidentally your professor, quirks a small smile your way and sets his bag on the podium at the front. “Didn’t expect anyone to be here for another twenty minutes.”

“I just got out of another class a couple of rooms down so I’m here early.” You straighten in your seat and return a smile of your own. “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Jeon. I’m Y/N.” You start bouncing your leg up and down, clicking the pen in your hand. Please be right, please be right, you chant silently, hoping you remembered the name correctly.

Jungkook notices your slightly restless state but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Just to be sure, you are here for ECON 602 right? Macroeconomic Theory?” He unzips his bag and sets his laptop on the podium. Making brief eye contact, he catches sight of the piece of paper directly below your nose. “That’s a beautiful sketch.”

You glance down, moving the paper to the side as if embarrassed. Not many people see your work beyond close friends, and even then you like to keep it to yourself. “Yes, absolutely,” you reply. “ECON 602, 12:15 pm. And thanks, I draw as a hobby.”

Your professor hums, nodding as he connects the HDMI cable to his laptop and lowers the presentation board.“ Dr. Kim is going to be quite jealous when he hears such artistic talent is in my economics class.” He lets out a slight chuckle. “You don’t mind if I tell him, do you? A little competition we have going on.”

You snort at the comment.

Dr. Kim Taehyung was the art department’s most talked about professor. Everyone knew him for his extremely unique perspective, classy personality, as well as his breathtaking artwork. You’ve passed him in the hallways a number of times, wishing you could study under him and dare you say, in more ways than one.

“I don’t mind.” You shake your head. “Are you and Dr. Kim close?” Maybe you shouldn’t be this curious but it was now fifteen minutes until the start of class and no one else had shown. What else were you going to fill time with? Awkward silence while you watch your professor fumble and tap on his keyboard?

“We were colleagues if you can believe that.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Only two years ahead of me in undergrad. When I first started teaching here I had no idea he was here too. But you know what they say __, it’s a small world.”

“Smaller,” you retort. “I feel like everywhere I go I run into someone I’ve known or seen at some point in my life. You just never really know I guess.” When you first entered university, you were counting your lucky stars that most of your high school peers were attending college nearby your hometown. You on the other hand were a good five to six hours from home. Last you checked, however, half of those peers were now getting married or on their second kid. Crazy how some people’s lives change on a dime.

You watch as your professor shuffles a few sheets of paper in his hands, scanning them briefly. “I can relate to that,” he mutters. “Pretty sure we haven’t met before though. Could be a bigger world than we think. Now where’s everyone else? Didn’t all drop last minute did they?” The man lifts his head, flashing a big gorgeous grin. His eyes are playful and dance with mirth.“Not that I would mind if it were just you and I this whole semester.“

“uh–“ is embarrassingly, all you say. He isn’t implying anything by that right? Oh god __, don’t be stupid. As you've established, this isn’t a romance novel and you’re most definitely not the main character.

“You seem attentive is what I mean,” the man says, breaking you out of your daze. “And beyond punctual. Two qualities that I hold in high esteem.” You’d say he had a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth but it was likely an illusion. Your professor has bigger fish to fry than worry about any possible scenarios you’ve concocted in your silly head.

Still, in a moment of sheer thoughtlessness, you say something you regret being unable to retract. “Thank you, I like you too.” As soon as the words fly out you feel the need to run out and bang your head against the wall. Thinking on your feet wasn’t your specialty.

Little to your knowledge, Jungkook finds your mannerisms cute and stifles the temptation to tease. You’re his student, after all, a little professionally please, he repeats to himself.

“So are you from here?” Jungkook asks, choosing to switch the topic before both of you get swallowed into a messy situation.

You shake your head in denial. “I live here temporarily but I grew up about five hours north of here. My parents are still there.”

“Ah, well that’s a bit away. I imagine you miss them?”

You ponder the question for a second, eyes rolling up in contemplation. “From time to time.” Jungkook gives a knowing look. He’s had his share of familial drama and the need for space.

“I understand,” he says. “I grew up ten hours south myself.”

“Wow, that’s…far.” You’re surprised by the distance and can’t imagine it’s an easy commute. You wonder how long he’s been here and more so, if he’s here alone.

“Yeah.” He rests his palms on the edge of the podium, leaning on them gently. The protruding veins in his forearms catch your attention but you pry yourself from lingering. After what you said earlier, the last thing you want is for Dr. Jeon to think you're coming on to him. “Gets a little quiet sometimes but I’ve learned to live with it.”

As if immune to learning from your mistakes you blurt exactly what’s in your head.“So you’re not–“

“Married? Dating? Seeing someone?” Jungkook finishes your sentence like it’s nothing he hasn’t done tenfold times before. “No. I’m not.”

You give a small “Ah,” nodding in understanding before another classmate walks in, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. Jungkook is quick to greet the young man who’s joined but he’s certain he won’t be forgetting your name anytime soon.

present

You tilt your head back, allowing beads of hot water to run down your bare skin. The sound of steady pattering combined with heavy steam relaxes your muscles.

You can't believe you actually told him.

Blurting out to Jungkook that you wanted a baby in the middle of a fight is not how you intended to open up to your husband. But everything escalated so fast that it just came out.

You think back to last night’s events.

Once the movie's credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!"

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks.

"I–I want…I want to be a mom. I want a baby."

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" You see the panic settling in his eyes. Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you."

You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.”

It was a blatant lie but just look at your situation. Married for two years, still on birth control, and had no plans to change that. Suddenly one party diverts from the plan fully aware that the other is perfectly comfortable with the current plan.

Yes, you hoped he'd have a slightly better reaction but you don't blame him for his stunned look.

Plus, did you even have enough time to realize what you were saying? Feeling? It could easily be written off that you were simply impulsive, emotionally vulnerable, and so on with the track record you had regarding kids and parenting.

You sigh, bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

Not much else happened after the fight. Jungkook apologized again with his arms wrapped around your waist. He snuggled his nose in the crook of your neck and kissed your cheek too.

It was the usual, it felt familiar and warm but the pang in your head put a roadblock to that. No marriage is perfect. You know that. But you have a feeling you and Jungkook are headed for a steep valley, both on opposing sides.

"Hi.” You’re taken out of your thoughts when you hear the shower door pop open. Your husband steps in, with messy hair and half-open lids. Evidently, still sleepy.

You spare him a glance and quickly reach for your body wash on the shelf. “Hi,” you reply back, voice monotone.

Jungkook moves closer behind you and curves an arm around you. He grabs the bottle out of your hand and squirts some of the soap into his palm. “How did you sleep?”

A small shiver runs up your spine when his cool hand rubs circles against your upper back and shoulder. It still feels nice, you admit. You see some of the soap drip down and hit the shower floor.

“I slept okay. You?”

“I’m about the same.” Jungkook moves his hand a little lower, making sure to cover your whole backside. “I’m really sorry about how I handled things last night. What I said and how I said it was inexcusable.”

“Please, Jungkook you don’t have to keep apologizing about it. I know…and I’m sorry I spurred it on you so suddenly. It’s not how I wanted you to find out.” if at all, you add to yourself.

“Is it still true?” he asks, stopping his movements. “Do you really want to start a family?”

You feel queasy all over again. His tone is serious and if you turn around you’ll likely see the fire in his eyes. So you remain in your position, facing towards the shower head.

“I don’t know…” you finally say after thirty seconds of eerie silence. “But I think I do, I really do. Seeing our friends and other people our age have kids makes me wonder if we’d ever have that. I can’t explain why right now. I know it’s unexpected after we’ve been living a sort of way for so long.” After another pause you continue. “But I know it’s not a mutual thing and that’s…okay.”

“Sweetheart, even if we were to have kids…where would we find the time? The school year’s starting soon and I’m gonna be running ragged at the university next week. You know my schedule. I teach Monday through Friday, leaving at 7:15 am and returning around 4 p.m. You leave for work a little later in the morning but get back at 5 p.m. All our week consists of will be eating a quick dinner together, then I have to squirrel away to my office for the night to review class notes and grade stacks of assignments.”

Though you’re aware of how crazy busy Jungkook gets during the school year, you’re not foolish enough to believe that is the root of his argument.

“Maybe you’re right that we don’t have much time now but Jungkook, we can figure it out. You only teach 9 months out of the year and I can–I can stay at home or we can hire a nanny. And we don’t have to do it right away but–“

“__.” Jungkook turns you around so you’re looking eye to eye. He hesitates to say his next words, fearing a replay of yesterday. But he can’t bring himself to pretend with you. Not on something this serious. “I understand and I want more than anything to tell you I want the same, but I can't lie to you. Being a father, and having a kid, I think it’s wonderful but I just never saw that for myself. I’m so sorry I–”

Your heart concaves into your chest. You absolutely want him to be honest but it pains you to hear. Where do you go from here?

Slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck. Jungkook jolts a bit, surprised by your sudden gesture but welcomes the embrace.

“It’s okay Jungkook.” You settle your head into his shoulder, simply wanting to be close. One tear spills out, then another. “It’s okay.”

“No, look at me __. You didn’t let me finish.” You lift your head from his shoulder. Jungkook strokes your back soothingly before continuing. “If this is what you want, then I’m not going to stand here and be the asshole husband that just dismisses it. But this is a big step.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t say what I think you are. Jungkook you don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not saying I change my mind.” Of course, that would be unrealistic, you talk yourself through, preparing for his next words. “However, I am–I am willing to seriously consider this whole thing, babies, diapers, strollers, all of it. But I need you to be sure that this is what you want. And the only way I think that can happen is if we start this slow. Sounds like I’m making some sappy speech huh?”

Jungkook cracks a faint smile.

You look like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop or for him to yell psyche and flick your forehead or something.

But none of that happens.

Instead, Jungkook unwraps one of your arms from around your neck, places a light kiss on your knuckles, and stares deep into your eyes as if making a promise. “I know this isn’t exactly heaven to your ears but I’m just trying to say, let’s not rush to a decision yet, okay? All of this did just get revealed yesterday and I think it’d be unfair to both of us if we scurry past it without thinking.”

Shocked. You’re utterly shocked. You were expecting him to give you a flat-out no or attempt to cover up the issue somehow. While, this isn’t your ideal outcome, if Jungkook is willing to take this seriously, no bullshit necessary, then so are you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You smile at him, feeling a tad lighter than you did before. Your heart beats again, slow and steady. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything __. I married you and I intend to keep it that way.” Jungkook sneaks a wink and you press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey,” you pipe up. “It’s Sunday isn’t it?”

Jungkook nods in confusion. “It is..?”

“You have somewhere to be this morning don’t you?” You wait a moment before an oh-shit expression forms on Jungkook’s face.

As you remember your husband was supposed to be at some fancy gold club today. Like Jimin, a certain Kim Taehyung had his weekly “thing” too. Being close friends, Jungkook was supposed to be there, along with Hoseok.

“‘You're so right. 'M sorry honey I gotta go. They’re gonna kill me." Jungkook gives you one last kiss before slipping out of the shower. "I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Jungkook! Where the fuck have you been? We tried calling you!” Taehyung is the first to speak as soon as he catches sight of the younger man. He has his usual blush pink polo shirt on paired with well-pressed beige shorts.

He looks a little too handsome for golf.

Jungkook’s secretly glad his wife stayed home this time, as he’s fully aware of her mini crush on Taehyung in school. When she first found out they were colleagues he could tell she had borderline stars in her eyes.

“Sorry sorry,” Jungkook says. “I was doing stuff and time escaped me. Plus, I didn’t have my phone near me for a bit. But I’m here now, so let’s get going!” Jungkook walks in front of the two men, heading for the first stage of the golf course. “You guys coming?” He turns around and lifts both arms up.

Taehyung and Hoseok exchange looks before following his lead. It’s unlike Jungkook to be this eager for golf. In fact, he hates golf. And his explanation is a bit…questionable.

As much as Hoseok is a friend, he is also just as much of a psychologist who can't stop himself from practicing his craft when given the chance. “You doing alright?” Hoseok waits for Jungkook to answer, one hand clings around the top of his golf club while the other settles around his hip. "Haven't seen you since Jimin's last dinner.”

"Yeah, I'm good," Jungkook barely replies, watching Taehyung practice and few swings before taking the shot. Like a prodigy, it sinks right in. "Hole in one again man? I thought you painted."

Taehyung glances over his shoulder with a smug expression, cocky smirk, and sunglasses behind his head. "Don't be too jealous of hyung, Jungkookie."

"Fuck off Tae," Jungkook quips back. "I'm not 22 anymore. I have a good job, nice house, and a gorgeous wife waiting for me at home. What do you have? A bunch of golf balls in your pants.”

Hmm, a little more defensive than usual, Hoseok notes. And guarded too, something’s up.

"About that wife of yours Kook," Hoseok drawls. "How she doing?" Jungkook turns towards the man, slight distaste on his face.

“Uh, she’s fine. Thanks for asking. Also, I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood.”

"Ah Jungkook, you act like I'm being so malicious.” Smiling, Hoseok continues. “Can't I care about my friend of ten years without such accusations?"

Jungkook sighs and kicks the grass. Hoseok has been one of his closest friends for a long time so if there's anyone worth talking to about his current situation and who'd understand, I'd be him. "Well, I’m not saying much right now but.....__ recently told me she wants a baby. I’m still–I'm having trouble processing it. But I’m trying.”

Hoseok throws a hand behind the younger's shoulder. “That’s big news Jungkook and it’s completely fine that you’re still working through it. Don’t feel like you have to speed up the process either. I’ve known you both long enough to know that parenting hasn’t really been in the cards until now so I’m surprised myself.”

“I think she’s still a little unsure, but something happened the other day and it struck a cord inside her. She wants a family and,” Jungkook steps to the side, and Hoseok's hand slips from his shoulder. “I wish I could tell her I want it too. But I can't lie to her like that. I also don’t want her to bury that desire for my sake, so I told her we could consider it. I don’t know man, I feel like I’m trying to do the right thing but I don’t know if I can do this. Will I ever change my mind? I want to, for her.”

Hoseok looks at his friend with soft eyes, compassion in them. “Unfortunately, this is not something you can foresee nor force. At least not this early. But you’re definitely doing the right thing by not brushing her off. As real as your feelings are about not wanting a child right now, so are __'s feelings. It’s best you listen to both sides.”

Jungkook tousles his hair around. “I just–fuck.”

Hoseok doesn’t need further explanation to understand Jungkook’s predicament. He’s frustrated, blames himself, and is struggling to come to terms with reality. The unknown scares him and he doesn’t want to lose control of what little he has. “I’m sorry, Kook…it’s a heavy load. Why don't you come in for a session sometime? I think this might be something worth talking through."

“You mean therapy? I don't know, I’m about to have a pretty tight with school starting.”

"One hour, forty minutes at least," Hoseok insists. "Why not try it once and if you don't like it, you don't have to do it again. I love you both and as a friend, I want to be here for you. Beats standing around and watching Taehyung kick our ass at golf. Just think about it and let me know. As I said, I'm always here for you bro."

Jungkook nods and reaches a hand out to gently squeeze Hoseok's shoulder. "I'll think about it. Thanks."

"Hey!" Taehyung waves from afar. "What you guys doing still up there? I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes! Don’t forget that last place buys lunch.”

“He’s referring to you Kook.” Hoseok chuckles, slaps Jungkook on the back, and walks down the golf course toward Taehyung. “You suck at golf.”

Jungkook grunts, following close behind. If this were a benching competition he’d be taking home the whole damn meal.

With Jungkook still gone doing who knows what with his buddies you decide to blast your very wide array of music. It’s a good thing you and Jungkook live in your own house or else your poor neighbors would be knocking down the door with the landlord by now. Yes, that may or may not have happened once with you were in college.

Along with the music you stick true to your character and spread your art supplies on your drawing table. You had your own mini studio, thanks to your wonderful relator who helped find you the house. You reach for a pencil, spinning it between your fingers. Maybe you should finish the drawing of the park’s pond.

Mm, you don’t really feel like packing all your supplies and driving over right now.

Deciding to save it for another day, you ponder ideas of what to do instead. Should you try out your new watercolors? You bought them last week and while you weren’t exactly in low supply, if your husband can have a hundred scented candles you can have your paints.

bling–

You snatch your phone hearing the notification bell.

Jungkook: the rest of your morning going well? [sent at 11:03 a.m]

You smile faintly and type out a reply. Sweet to check in you suppose.

__: Fine. How are the guys? [sent at 11:04 a.m]

Jungkook: Whooping my ass but it’s alright. [sent at 11:07 a.m]

Good, you smirk. Jungkook is awful at golf. And he can stand to lose at something like the rest of you.

__: When are you coming home? [sent at 11:10 a.m]

Jungkook: Looking to wrap things up around 4 pm. I think we’re having a late lunch. Miss you. [sent at 11:13 a.m]

__: Okay, sounds good because I was thinking maybe we could go for ice cream when you get back. After dinner? miss you too [sent at 11:14 a.m]

You stare at the screen, waiting for a reply.

One minute goes by…

Two minutes…

Three…

Jungkook: Okay, sounds amazing. But why not before dinner? The place we like closes early on Sundays. I love you! [sent at 11:17 a.m]

Oh shoot, that’s right. You and Junkook have gone to the same ice cream shake since you first started dating. The couple who run it are super sweet, only a decade older. How could you forget?

__: I’m a dummy, yes we’ll go before dinner. I love you too [sent at 11:18 a.m]

Jungkook: Noo, you’re not a dummy! But okay, I’ll see you soon! [sent at 11:19 a.m]

Rejuvenated, you turn off your phone, jump off your art stool and crank the current song up–Runaway by Bon Jovi. Let’s see, you think, tearing a piece of watercolor paper from your drawing pad, what to do.

When the idea strikes you prepare water, paintbrushes, your palette, and anything else you may need for the next five hours give or take. You snatch your phone again and scroll through your photo gallery, hoping to get a good reference photo.

Your best friend’s birthday was two weeks away and she’s been subtly hinting for a painting of her, her fiancee’, and her dog Bear. As her closest friend and well-practiced artist, you think it is best to appease her request.

Jungkook comes home at 4 pm on the dot. Not a minute later. He looks happy, you conclude. Genuinely happy. It looks good on him.

“__!” Jungkook runs through the front door and lifts you up in his arms. He spins you around and you place your hands on his shoulders. This is so unexpected but nice.

“Jungkook,” you struggle to catch your breath. “What’s going on?”

“I just love coming home to you.” He places you back down and grabs your wrist. “Come on, I wanna stuff you full with ice cream.”

“That sounds so weird,” you laugh.

“Why?” Jungkook opens the front door, ushering you to go ahead of him.

“Because…it sounds like you want to stuff me. Like in a weird way.”

“Woman, that cleared nothing up for me.” You hop into the car with stupid grins on your face. You don’t even know what you mean let alone having to explain to your husband. What can you say, Jungkook makes you a little braindead.

“I just mean that you wanting to stuff me with ice cream sounds like the witch from Hanzel and Gretel. You wanna fatten me up to eat me. Or taxidermy,….or Build a Bear.”

“What the fuck honey,” Jungkook curses, backing out of your drive. “Did you get into something funky while I was gone?”

“No what–ugh never mind.” You stare out the window, arms crossed and biting back the need to giggle uncontrollably. Why were you so giddy right now?

Jungkook glances over with amusement. He knows you’re inches away from balling over with laughter. “You know what honey?”

“Hmm?”

“I think instead of stuffing you full of ice cream, I’m gonna stuff you full with something just as good.”

“Don’t say it Kook, don’t. I’m going to bust a gut.” You beg fully aware he’s not about to back down.

“My fucking cawk,” he says, making sure to exaggerate the last part.

You throw a hand over your mouth, tears well up in your eyes and this time, they’re not sad ones.

You pull up at the small, but charming ice cream stand at around 4:20 pm. It’s a decent crowd tonight.

You and Jungkook get out of the car with laced hands. You’ve managed to calm down now, thankfully. As you make your way to the line a small voice catches both your attention.

“Appa!” A little girl with blue ribbons in her hair runs past you. She looks between eight to ten years old. You and Jungkook follow her movement as she leaps up into her father’s arms.

You smile at the interaction. Her father kisses her cheek and chuckles as she shows him her ribbons. She looks like she’s telling a very eventful story.

Beside you, Jungkook stiffens. His eyes set on the pair but you’re unsure what he’s thinking. “Kook?” you say, but he doesn’t respond. You shake his hand, the one laced in yours, but still no response. It’s when you step in front of his view that you get him back.

“Hey,” you say. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook blinks at you and shakes his head a bit. “I’m good, sorry. Not sure what happened there. Must be a bit out of it today. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

A/N: I like this series vv much...thank you to anyone reading :) Lmk your thoughts and if you wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper

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Wednesday Nights || Part One

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smutty smut, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, sex work

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: As a single parent of an active kid Joel’s funds were tight, so he needed to find a quick way to make more income and surprisingly, you could make good money being a phone sex operator.

A/N: I kept daydreaming about Joel being a PSO. When I went to search for related fics I couldn’t find any so I wrote one :) Please like, comment and reblog!

part two

part three

part four

part five

Your nerves deteriorated with each passing minute. It was almost ten o'clock. On most days, the time didn't matter, but today was Wednesday. Wednesday nights were highly essential for you. 

For the past five months, you've been making late-night phone calls to talk to a specific phone sex operator named Jay. You had a sneaking suspicion that "Jay" wasn't actually his name, but you didn’t let that bother you. You understood that the operators were obligated to follow certain procedures for their own safety. 

Except for the few small truths he told you, Jay's personal life was a vast mystery to you. All you gathered about him from your extensive conversations was that he was a man in his early thirties from the southern parts of the United States who enjoyed a good cup of coffee before starting his day. He never specified where in the south he grew up, but the Texan drawl sounded too genuine to be artificial.

On Wednesdays, Jay only worked until 11 o'clock, so the two of you came to the conclusion fairly early on that you should dial in a little after 10 in order to ensure that you were his final call of the day.

You managed to calm your nerves by doing a little dance. You twirled in circles until you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror that was intentionally placed in front of your bed. You stopped dancing and stood there, appreciating your half-naked figure in the mirror as you waited for the clock to strike 10:03. 

You weren't sure why you always ended up so nervous around this time of the week. You'd been doing this for a while now, but it was just something about Jay that turned you into the shyest little thing.

You looked downright delicious in your baby blue lingerie. You brought it this afternoon along with a new toy. It wasn't like Jay could see it, but your imagination ran wild. Your breasts sat flawlessly in the laced blue bra. You looked like a fucking snack. 

If only you could meet Jay in person, you thought, sighing in disappointment. You eyed the clock and shook the negative thoughts from your head before you ended up in a funk. It was time to dial in. 

You were already drained from the week's stressors, and there were still two more days to go. You were in your last year of graduate school and utterly stumped on your thesis. You were sick of doing research, reading, typing, crying, and everything else that came with being a grad student. At this point, all you wanted to do was talk to Jay for as long as you possibly could and get off. 

You called in, waiting for the main operator to ask you who you wanted to be transferred to. She answered in her usual upbeat voice. You answered her question and before you knew it the line was being transferred to Jay. You held your breath on every ring, as you always did, until Jay picked up. Unexpectedly, a memory of your very first call came flooding back.

9:58pm five months ago

Valentine’s Day

Ring. Ring. Click. 

“Decompress until there’s a mess,” a cheerful woman said as she answered your call and you fought back a cackle at that ridiculous ass slogan. “Who would you like to speak to tonight?”

“Umm…this is my first time calling, so I’m not really sure.” you admitted.

“That’s alright, sugar,” the woman assured softly. “Let’s start with the simple stuff. Do you have a preference for gender or ethnicity?” 

“Umm, well, ethnicity doesn’t matter, but I’d like to speak with a man.”

“Okay. We’re getting somewhere. What kind of man?” 

“Someone with an accent.” 

“What kind of accent? We have ‘em all here, sugar.” 

The constant use of the pet name actually eased your nerves. Your shyness was depleting while your confidence was rising. 

“A southern accent?”

You had a slight accent kink since you could remember. You appreciated all accents, but there was something extra sweet about southern men and the way they could hold a conversation. Maybe it was because you grew up in the south too. 

“Louisiana?” The operator asked as she typed away at her computer. By the sound of her taps, her nails must have been quite long. You bet they looked as pretty as she sounded. 

“More of a Texan accent please.” You insisted, nibbling your bottom lip as you waited for her to find someone. 

“That’ll be Jay then.” 

“It looks like he’s finishing up another call,” she informed. “Do you mind waiting on hold for a few minutes before I transfer you?” 

“No, I don’t mind. Thank you.” 

“Okay. Placing you on hold now.”

You were on hold for maybe forty five seconds. The wait music stopped abruptly and the line rang four times before a sultry voice spoke. “Hello, darlin’.” 

And fuuuuuuuck. 

The sultry twang of his voice sounded like toe curling, earth shattering, raw sex.

You went to say hello, but for some reason you forgot how your mouth worked. You palmed your forehead, wincing.

How embarrassing. 

“Hello?” he said, tone shifting slightly. 

“Hi.” you finally whispered, palms somewhat shaking. You never did anything like this. Thank god he couldn’t see how much of a nervous wreck you were. You weren’t a virgin, but you didn’t have that many sexual experiences. There was plenty left for you to learn. 

“Sorry,” you continued, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This is my first time doing something like this and I’m a little nervous.” you admitted, shifting in the computer chair, spreading your legs. 

“I understand. We can take it slow, okay?” 

“Okay.” you nodded as if he could fucking see you. 

“My name is Jay. What’s your name?” 

“Y/N.” you blurted, without thinking. Were you supposed to give him a fake name?

He chuckled softly, “That your real name, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you sighed deeply. “It is actually.”

“Well, Y/N is such a pretty name.” He complimented. 

“Thank you.” you smiled, shoulders relaxing as you began to twirl in your chair. 

“How old are you?” Jay asked. 

“I’ll be 28 next month,” you revealed, slipping into a more seductive voice now that your nerves were further away, “How old are you?” 

“I’ll be 31 later in September.” 

“Ah, so you’re a Libra man?” you teased. You weren’t super into astrology, but you knew the basics and looked at compatibility charts every now and then. 

“Am I now?” he laughed.

“You are and I’m an Aries. Apparently we’re very compatible.” 

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“You believe that?” He retorted.

“Sort of.” you mumbled, half shrugging. 

“I think we’ll find out in a lil’ bit.” Jay purred. You pulled the phone away from your ear as you shivered in anticipation. You were already wet for him. 

Goddamn. He already had you hooked

“Evenin’ darlin’,” Jay answered warmly on the third ring. 

“Hi,” you responded, beaming up at yourself in the mirror. Jeez all it took was a simple greeting from Jay to have you smiling from ear to ear. “How has your day been?” 

“It’s been alright. Even better now though.” He said, already flirting. 

“I’m wearin’ the blue lace lingerie we looked at last week.” You blurted, getting straight to the point. You usually talked about regular things, but you were pent up and needed him to do what he was perfect at and make you a soaking wet mess. 

“Ohh,” he exhaled sharply, “I wish I could watch you model it for me, Y/N.” He was always so good and going with the flow. He always made sure to give you what you needed. After all, that was what you were paying him for. It was left unspoken that you both forgot that this was a transaction a few months ago. 

“I bought a toy, too.” 

“What kind?” He perked up, even more interested.

“You got your laptop open?”

“Mmhmm.” he replied.

“Go to www.lovegasm.com.”

You listened to the pad of his fingers fall against the laptop keys as he followed your instructions. You ignored the fact that you were lowkey jealous of the keyboard that got to feel how his fingers felt against them. 

“Okay. I’m there.” 

“Click on the drop-down in the left hand corner.” 

“Okay.”

“Then click on ‘for women’ then select ‘dildos’.” you instructed, you slid off your shawl, moving over to the edge of the bed to give him and the page a few extra seconds to load before asking, “You there?”

“Yep. Which one am I looking for?”

“Right column. Sixth one down.” 

“I see,” he said, humming in excitement. 

“Look familiar?” You asked, giggling softly as you laid back on your bed, spreading your thighs. 

“A bit.” he admitted, unable to hide the smile in his voice. You could hear it clear as day. It was another small thing you looked forward to. 

“I can’t wait to feel yo—it inside me, Jay.” you caught yourself, but it was too late. He’d already heard you and his cock twitched in response. 

“No, you were right the first time, baby.” he said, kind of muffled, grunting softly as he raised his arms, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt. 

“I’m a bit thicker towards the top so we’re gonna have to finger you open, so that I can slide in perfectly.” 

“Okay. Do you want me to take off my panties?” 

“No,” he said, inhaling sharply. “Pull them to the side and rub your clit for me.”

You obeyed, pulling your panties to the side and slowly rubbed your clit with your middle finger, sighing softly. 

“How wet are you?”

“Honestly,” you breathed deeply, running a finger down your slick slit. “I’ve been wet for you all day, Jay.” He groaned deeply at your admission, thick cock swelling in his pants. 

“You’re gonna cum twice for me tonight, Y/N. First on my fingers, then on my cock.” 

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He knew you loved when he talked to you that way. It helped you get off even more. 

“Got it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Repeat it.” he demanded, growling softly in your ear. You stopped breathing for a second. Completely turned on by the rough tone he was taking with you. 

God he knew what you liked so well. 

“I’m cummin’ twice tonight. On your fingers, then on your cock.” You repeated, voice deep with arousal. You whimpered softly, rubbing faster as you felt that coil deep in your belly loosen a smidge. You were getting closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” he praised, making you sigh deeply and even more of a puddle. 

“Slide a finger inside you,” he instructed, “Slow pumps.” 

You obeyed, pushing in your middle finger, massaging your folds gradually. Although the motion was effective, it wasn’t sufficient. It didn't push you very far at all. You needed more. 

“Can I add another finger, baby?” You asked, moaning louder as you rubbed your clit in wide slow circles, getting wetter by the second.

“Go ahead,” said Jay, granting you permission.

You added another finger, pumping faster. Now you were getting somewhere.

“Jay,” you moaned softly, grinding down on your fingers as you sped up just a little. 

“I love the way you moan for me.” he praised, grunting softly as he popped the button open on his jeans and unzipped them. The faint sound of his zipper being pulled down made your nipples harden almost painfully. 

“Shit Jay, I wish these were your fingers.” you admitted, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, shyness long gone. You closed your eyes, picturing Jay’s fingers inside of you, while his free hand held pressure on your lower stomach. You listened to him pull his jeans down some. 

“I know baby,” he groaned, palming his hard cock through his boxers, “So do I.” 

“Keep rubbin’ your clit for me,” like the good and dutiful girl you were, you obeyed, rubbing your bundle of nerves in tight, fast circles. Your other fingers were busy pumping in and out of your tight hole. 

It was weird at this angle, but you added a third finger and curled them up. Your thighs trembled as you fingered and rubbed yourself harder. Jay could hear how soaked you were for him and pulled his cock out, thumbing the bead of precum before stroking it lazily. You were always so wet for him and he oh so badly craved to taste it. 

He inhaled sharply before letting a single command fall past his lips, “Cum.” 

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned loudly as you came, body jerking against the bed as you worked yourself slower. 

“That’s it, baby,” Jay purred lowly, talking you through a well anticipated orgasm. “Let it out for me.” You were gonna have to change your sheets, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. You were sex crazed. 

One down. One more to go. 

Jay’s hand locked down painfully on his cock, stopping himself from almost cumming. “Now grab my cock and put it in your mouth.” Jay said, taking a steadying, deep breath. The sounds you made when you came always got to him. The sinful whimpers and desperate grunts you let out damn near made him go feral with lust. 

You palmed the silicone cock and brought it to your lips, licking up the veiny shaft before taking it into your mouth. 

“Suck it, baby. Let me hear it.” He cupped his dick loosely, starting back up with slow strokes. He had to be careful. 

You sucked the head while simultaneously pulling on the base, making the tip tug at your plump lips.

“Mmhmm,” he moaned, encouraging you to take him deeper. You tilted your head to get a better angle and took the fake cock as deep as you could, bobbing your head up and down, moaning loudly. When you choked, Jay growled. “Fuuuck, baby! You take me so well.” 

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Jay said, panting sharply, “I can hear it. Go ahead and push me in. I know that I’ll fit easily.” 

“Goddamnit Jay,” you cursed, letting the dildo fall from your stretched lips with a loud pop, slapping your inner thigh hard enough to leave it aching in the morning.

“What?” He asked, snickering softly because he already knew the answer. 

“You just always know what to say.” you praised, gasping softly as you pushed the cock inside you, all the way to the hilt. He was right. It stretched you, but you were so wet it didn’t even pinch. 

You pushed the silicone cock inside you deep and fast. It felt so fucking good. You paused your moans so you could hear Jay. You wanted to match his strokes. Once he realized what you were doing he sped up. 

“Yeah, that’s it, babygirl,” he praised, groans growing louder, “Fuck yourself just like that. Don’t stop.” 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, pumping yourself even harder. 

“Did I tell you that you could cum?” The harshness of his voice made you open your eyes and slow your movements just a tad. 

“Jay p—please, baby,” you moaned louder, begging him to let you cum. He loved teasing you and you loved that he loved it. 

“Please what, darlin’?” said Jay, amusement heavy in his tone. He knew exactly what you wanted. Needed. He was gonna give it to you, but you had to ask first. You had to beg for it. 

“Cum with me this time,” you coaxed, whole body shuddering just from hearing the downright filthy noise Jay just made. 

“Okay, babygirl,” he groaned lowly, breaths quickening as he pumped his cock nice and fast. “Whatever you want.” 

“I want you to cum with me,” you begged, head thrashing wildly against the pillows as the tip of the dildo brushed up against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “I want to hear your moans mix with mine when we cum.” 

You sobbed as you started back rubbing your clit. The tight circling of your finger combined with the rapid thrusts from the dildo gave you a window of 30 seconds before you were cumming your brains out.

“That’s it, baby,” Jay snarled, hips jerking wildly up into his fist as he stroked his cock even faster. “Be a good girl and cum with me.” 

You came with a loud cry as your climax tore through you, back arching all the way off the mattress in sheer pleasure. Jay followed right behind you, cursing and whimpering as white ropes of cum landed on his belly and chest. You both panted harshly, together over the line as you recovered slowly from your intense orgasms.

“I think that was our best one yet.” he laughed warmly as he pulled a few tissues from the square box on his workstation to clean himself up. 

“Hell yeah it was,” you agreed, cheering weakly. Your arms were sore as hell and your legs still shook, but you felt amazing. You were on cloud nine, fully satiated. 

“Have a good night, darlin’,” Jay cooed, sleepily. “And good luck with your thesis.”

“Thanks. Night Jay.” You giggled softly, disconnecting the call, rolling over onto your side before drifting off to sleep.

The next few days were a breeze. You were in an advantageous mood thanks to Jay, and so you added four more pages to your thesis. You only had six pages left. 

On Saturday morning you woke up earlier than usual and decided to get dressed and head to your favorite coffee shop. The cafe was only a couple blocks away from your apartment so you walked there. You loved early morning strolls. The gentle wind dancing across your soft skin as the sun began to peak always made you feel alive. 

You left the cafe after the barista handed you your Assam Black tea and breakfast sandwich, while typing a text to one of your lab partners. You took a few steps without looking and collided with someone, dropping both your sandwich and your phone. Luckily, the grip you had on your tea did not falter.  

You both apologized at the same time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I wasn’t even lookin' in front of me.”

“My apologies, darlin’.' ' the man said, bending down to pick up your squished sandwich and unscratched cell phone. 

That voice.

That voice you knew all too well. 

Especially on Wednesday nights.

A cold chill ran across your neck and down your back, “Jay?” you squeaked loudly, staring at him in disbelief as he stood back up with your items in his hands. He stretched out his hands to give them back to you only to stop short, eyes widening in utter shock when he realized what you had called him. 

The corner of his mouth turned up as he grinned briefly. It didn’t quite match his eyes at all. “Y/N, I take it?” 

“Yes,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Hi, Jay.”

“Hi.” he said, eyes blinking slowly as he stood there flabbergasted, still holding your belongings in his hands. 

“Nice to meet you.” you continued, extending your hand out for him to shake. 

He shifted your sandwich and phone to his left hand, grabbed your hand with his now-free hand, and shook it twice. “Nice to meet you, too Y/N.” he said, shooting you a toothy grin. God, his smile was to die for. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he checked you out, admiring the view. During your phone calls, he, too, fantasized about what you looked like. He was not disappointed.  

His palm enveloped yours. Damn his hands were large, you thought, gawking at him unapologetically. They were warm and had a few callouses. He must have used his hands a great deal for his other job. He never mentioned what he did for work. 

You hoped that bumping into him wouldn't ruin your Wednesday night dalliances. Maybe he'd be okay with talking somewhere less public. It was quite rowdy both inside and outside of the coffee shop.

“My apartment is two blocks away if you want to go somewhere more private so we can talk.” you babbled, no longer able to look at him in his intense, pecan brown eyes for too long due to your shyness coming at it at an all time high. Fuck he was intimidating. The confidence he exuded had your mouth watering. 

Christ, he was sex on a stick. The man only had on a dark gray shirt, blue jeans that hugged him in all the right places and working boots. A warm flush crept across your face and neck. Get it together, girl, you thought to yourself. He barely said two full sentences to you and you were already hot and bothered. To be fair, he’d been the only one to make you cum every week for the past five and a half months. 

He raised a thick eyebrow at your suggestion — you dropped his hand, gesturing wildly once you realized how your offer must have sounded. “I mean—fuck! I promise I’m not a weirdo, Jay.” 

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled, shaking his head fondly at you, “Joel,” he said. “My name is Joel.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for using my cousin's weed habit to convince my dad to let me go live on my own, making him pay higher rent? Hi so this is kind of a silly idea i had but wanted to see if it would be assholeish. Also it is not the only way out or anything, just a bit of a thought experiment. So i (24x) moved from mexico to the usa for grad school (2 years). For this first year i've been living with my cousin A (23F), A's college friend B (23F) and A's childhood/family friend, C (25F). Now they're lovely and really fun roommates, but honestly not very good to live with on an everyday basis. B and A are really messy (leave everything lying around - dirty plates, clothes, trash, you name it), and none of them are very clean. Other than them occasionally wiping the kitchen counters, emptying the dishwasher, or taking out the trash, i've done all the cleaning so far on my own (kitchen, 2 bathrooms, living room, hallways). I've made my frustration pretty clear (and even gone on strike lol, but i can't deal w a dirty toilet for more then 2 weeks), but nothing changes!! At this point i'm really fed up, and want to move elsewhere next year, preferably to live on my own. The problem is that we live in san francisco, and rent is... well, it's pretty expensive. Sorry californians you really got it rough. However, i've looked into the university's accommodation for grad students and it could be an option. I would be paying about $250 per month more than right now, but i would save on utilities (about $40 per month). The thing is, my dad is the one whose been paying for my living expenses ever since i went back to school. We used to have a rocky relationship (he was really frustrated with me not meeting his expectations; coming out as a homo, being a leftist, doing some weed as a teen...) and i think he sees this as 'making it up to me'. I really appreciate the way he has been trying to fix out relationship, and i'm obviously extremely thankful for the economic support. So i feel really guilty asking for more than he is giving me. Here is where my plan comes in -- my dad haaates drugs, and my cousin A has a pretty intense weed habit. WIBTA to complain about it ('waa the house smells like weed, theyre blazing it all day every day') to my dad, in order to convince him that me moving to the grad dorms is a good idea? EXTRA INFO: Would my cousin get in trouble? - not really i think. Its legal, and her parents are aware of her indulgences (i dont think they're happy with the amount she smokes, but they're pretty chill). I worry that if i complain to my dad, he would tell his sister (A's mom) and make it a huge deal, but as I said A's parents are pretty tolerant, and know of her 'addiction' anyway. Don't i have any money of my own? - not anymore lol, at least not enough to pay californian rent. I'm getting a job over the summer, but with visa restrictions (half time) i doubt i would make enough to make a difference. Working during term time is not possible for me (personal limitations). Also the increase in price would not bleed my dad dry or anything. Can't i just sort it out w my roommates? - they've proven to be admirably immovable objects on the cleaning issue. I mean, i can tough ot out, but at this point it's also the spirit of the thing that is pissing me off so much, rather than the cleaning itself. Do they just dont care?? T-T Do i have to 'manipulate' my dad? - um idk. It's definitely the easy (perhaps cowardly) way, but that's why i want to see if its too assholeish. Thanks for reading! Lay it on me

[foucauldiantheory]

If you haven't heard, Temple University's graduate student union (TUGSA) is currently on the second week of their strike. They are one of the only, if not the only, grad student union in the state of Pennsylvania. Their demands can be found here.

So far, the administration has made shameful threats throughout the community, disseminated manipulative lies to the student body, attempted to convince undergrads and faculty members to scab on striking workers, and actively withdrawn necessary supports like healthcare and tuition remission from striking workers as a disgraceful intimidation tactic.

If you have the means to give, TUGSA has a strike fund and, while you're at it, I welcome you to voice your thoughts, no matter how brief, to the Provost, Gregory Mandel. Strength and solidarity for all, forever.

[possibilistfanfiction]

conservationist au already!? you write so fast dang (what are your secrets) (also it's okay if you want to keep them secret) (mostly i am excite for frog)

here she is! frog au! lol [ao3]

//

to see us blossom (while the green spreads like wings)

//

only our feet have been here, that i'm aware of. it's wild and remote and beautiful as can be. i just want to be quiet and love it. let it sink in. i'll be leaving the planet, sometime. and i'll miss it.

— dr. bruce means

//

'dr. silva,' diego bursts into your office, his hair fluffed and messy, 'i found someone for the expedition!'

'did you... run here?'

'yeah, from the lab.' he gulps a breath. 'i got excited.'

it's fucking awesome that diego, your favorite grad student, is coming on this expedition, but it's becoming a huge pain in the ass to plan — you try your hardest not to feel guilty about why, but it is mostly because of you — and is starting to feel more and more impossible by the day. you don't want to get your hopes up: you don't have that much funding, and it's starting to seem a little bit impossible logistically, even with dr. superion's help. but you'll humor him: 'so who are we taking with us?'

he waits a breath, practically bursting at the seams. 'beatrice zhang.'

'the photographer?'

'she's an experienced climber! you follow her on instagram, right?'

you have gratuitously followed beatrice zhang on instagram for the last four years — for her photography, because it is some of the most beautiful and thoughtful you've ever seen, regardless of the subject matter, but also for the occasional photo of herself, surfing or climbing or behind the camera, particularly delightful if it features her arms in a tank — but diego doesn't need to know that part. 'yes, her work is wonderful for lots of conservationist efforts.' diplomatic, you think, mentally patting yourself on the back.

'and she's hot.'

'i didn't say that.'

diego rolls his eyes.

'anyway, how would we even get her to come with us?'

diego grins. 'i emailed her.'

'what?'

he takes out his phone and shows you her instagram, which, indeed, does have an ‘email’ button, which, obviously, you've never paid attention to before. 'she hasn't responded yet, or her team or whatever, i guess, but i only sent it ten minutes ago. and it went to a legit address and hasn't bounced back, so, i just figured, why not?'

even though, last year, you had had a successful time in guyana, finding and recording a few new species, there are a lot of why not's, really: your GA probably shouldn’t be making these choices without consulting you first, but you don’t really care about that so much as your mobility is more limited than ever lately. the weather probably won't hold so who the fuck knows if it'll even be possible to reach to spot at all. and, plus, it's for a frog. one tiny frog, that may or may not exist — (you're sure it does) — in the middle of a jungle on the top of a tepui that's never been climbed. it's... a little crazy, when you think through it now, way crazier than it had seemed when you wrote the grant for funding last year. most people, even world renowned war-turned-wildlife photographers with insane biceps — especially them, probably — aren't interested in a project like this.

'well, the least that will happen is she doesn't respond,' you figure; you don't believe in any religion and life had dealt you quite the shitty hand for a long time, so if there's any balancing it out, maybe this will be a strike in the good column for you. so, 'yeah, you're right. why not?'

/

it's two days later when your phone vibrates about seven times; you roll over in... some girl's bed? okay, solid night, then, and when you look over at her, she's beautiful and fast asleep. you remember your fifth shot of tequila and vaguely how great riding her dick had been; you find your phone graciously plugged into a charger on the nightstand on your side of the bed, and when you go to the bathroom you see condoms in the small trash can — so, all in all, a success. your back is sore but not terrible and you groan when you see it's only six am, but there's texts from diego and you have a policy not to ignore those, no matter how stupid they occasionally can be.

these are unequivocally not stupid, though, because they start with dr. silva! and then ava!!!!! ava! and devolve into some emojis and then omg oh my god and finally check your email, which is really the only helpful part of that — but they're not stupid because when you do check your email, you see a forwarded message from diego first. it's a cordial reply to the email he had sent to beatrice zhang, from her, it seems, asking politely to be put in touch with the lead biologist on the expedition if possible. which, you remember with the tiniest bit of a happy jolt, is you. you open the newest email, which is, in fact, connecting you and beatrice. she’s already responded, and it’s kind of wild because, from the three short sentences asking if you could set up a video chat to talk more about the expedition or, if she happened to be close to where you were in the world, even meet near your office or lab for coffee, she sounds, well, at least interested. you don't think someone like her — someone who has photographed war, and famine, and wildfires, and, miraculously last year, a snow leopard and her cub — would even respond to something she didn't care at all about.

holy shit, you text diego. you need a cup of coffee, or, like, maybe three cups of coffee, and a breakfast sandwich before you can respond to that email, so you decide to get a move on. plus, it feels unhinged to respond to it from your phone, so you need to go home anyway. you should also maybe definitely shower, you think, as you look at yourself in the mirror: your makeup is a little smudged and your hair is an unrepentant mess. still hot though, you think when you quietly find your clothes and put your bra on, a deep teal that makes your boobs look awesome. thankfully, you were just in high-waisted, loose jeans and a cropped sweater last night, so after you wash your face and get dressed, it's not really giving walk of shame — walk of pride, thank you very much.

you google maps where you are and, thankfully, it's a nice enough morning and a short enough distance that you can walk to your favorite cafe and then to your apartment without having to call an uber. you grab your cane from where you'd left it propped up by the wall near the bed, and then, because you're definitely not an asshole, gently shake your, well, one night stand's shoulder. her eyes are green, and you do remember that much.

'i gotta go do some work, sorry.'

she nods. 'right. doctor.'

well, maybe you're a little bit of an asshole, but it's not your fault that people think you're a very important neurosurgeon or something. you are very important in cataloguing biodiversity, so you just roll with it. 'thanks for a great time.'

she nods with a soft smile, and it's nice to kiss her, gently, goodbye.

/

'wait, you're meeting with her? here?'

'yes,' you say, mostly annoyed at camila's vaguely unhinged energy. 'she's close by train, so it's better to meet in person.'

'oh my god,' camila says. she's one of your best friends and probably the smartest, most tech-savvy person you know. when you figured out how helpful it would be to have someone operate drones for you on this expedition, you hadn't even bothered to ask anyone else.

'don't you know her?'

'well, sure,' camila confirms. 'i did some drone work for her a few months ago in the bahamas when she was photographing sharks. but, like, she's amazing, ava.'

'well, hopefully she'll say yes.'

'you'll have to charm her.'

'i'm very good at charming hot women.'

camila rolls her eyes.

'i'm also very good at charming people to go find frogs with me.'

she waits for a beat and then relents. 'well, i suppose that's true.'

'come on,' you say, 'help me make a slide deck. i feel like she'd think that's sexy or something.'

'you're ridiculous.'

'it'll work, i'm telling you.'

/

beatrice zhang in soft wool pants and closed-toed birkenstocks and a crewneck sweater sitting ramrod straight at the decent cafe just off campus near your office is, quite honestly, not a sight you'd ever expected to see, but it is kind of a miracle. or, at least that's what it had felt like, when she had emailed that she was, actually, a few hours away by train and wouldn't mind a day trip to meet in person. you're glad that you wore your best professor outfit today, flared navy slacks that make your ass look divine, and a crisp white button up that you tucked in tight and rolled up at the sleeves, a camel peacoat and expensive loafers that dr. salvius had gotten you when you passed your dissertation two years ago. you usually wear... well, not this — you reserve this for conferences and presentations — but, if looking professional helps beatrice sign onto this project, so be it.

and, well, maybe it's not strictly professional to undo another button as you had walked to the cafe, and, like, you don't actually know if beatrice is gay or not, but you spot her and smile and wave and her eyes get big for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ve got it all wrong: you’re small and young and pretty and, sometimes, people think that disqualifies you from being smart. but then her eyes rake over you and linger, for just a moment, on your chest, so you're probably right. if this helps too, so be it.

you wave and she stands very formally; she clearly recognizes you, which makes you feel a small thrill of satisfaction. 'hey, glad you found it okay.'

'i've had much more difficult locations to navigate before, although the freshman can be a bit scary.'

it's deadpan, so it takes you a split second, but then you laugh and offer your hand. 'i'm dr. silva.' you want to roll your eyes at your title, which you normally feel quite proud of, all of a sudden. 'ava, any pronouns.'

'dr. silva,' she says anyway, and shakes your hand firmly. 'it's a pleasure. i'm beatrice, she/her.'

only after do you sit, a little sprawled, and prop your cane up on the table, does she sit too, and then looks down at the menu. 'do you recommend anything? i haven't had lunch yet.'

'well, if you're like, uh... —' falling prey to diet culture, you think, but you don't know beatrice at all, so — 'wanting a vegetable forward option, their salads and quinoa bowls are okay.'

she wrinkles her nose. you hide a smile in the collar of your coat.

'but their kimchi fried chicken sandwich is my favorite.'

'and the slaw?'

'well, i'm a fries girl.'

she smiles over the top of her menu, just slightly.

'but my friend likes the slaw, and i trust her.'

she nods and sets her menu down, her wrists resting on the edge of the table, her hands clasped. a practical smart watch, no wedding band. her full attention is on you and it makes you feel a little breathless.

you're saved from saying something incredibly dumb — you're very, very smart, and you're actually very good at flirting, but beatrice zhang is hot as hell and a certified badass and you also really want her to be, like, your colleague — when your server comes to your table. you both order, and you get the fried chicken sandwich too, even though you already ate lunch an hour ago — diego's always happy to eat your leftovers out of the fridge in the lab anyway.

you're not saved from saying something marginally dumb, though, because beatrice kindly thanks your server and hands over her menu and then looks at you again, fully focused.

'i like your hair,’ you say, instead of, well, anything else. you want to groan and slam your head down into the table, or something, because beatrice's brows knit together and she brings one hand to run through her floppy middle part, short in the back and on the sides, pushing it out of her eyes.

'oh,' she says, softly and definitely confused. 'thank you.'

you're sure you're blushing. 'sorry, i just, like, the last time you posted — you had long hair.'

it's mortifying, the moment you say it, because you can mentally calculate the last time beatrice posted a picture of herself on her instagram, and it was definitely over a year ago.

she also seems to realize this, because her confusion turns to a smug little smile that could probably eat you alive. you'd definitely let it.

'i read about the last species of frog you discovered, when the article came out.'

that was also over a year ago, and you laugh, tension releasing from your shoulders. 'so that’s how you knew what i looked like.’

‘sure.’

to be fair, the article did include a picture of you, muddy and sweaty and overjoyed, holding a tiny frog in the palm of your hand, but, ‘did you google me?’

‘i only take on projects, at this point, that i find interesting.’

‘so you think i’m interesting.’

she raises a brow, a scar that also wasn’t there over a year ago running an inch above it and then straight through, cleanly healed but not faded yet, stopping right on the top of her cheek — thankfully your brain didn't comment on that, even though it's kind of hot too. ‘i think that fact that you've already identified six new species of frog two years into an assistant professorship is interesting.’

'so that's a yes.' you grin. ‘want me to tell you about the project, then?'

she thanks your server when he brings her water and your lemonade of the day, and a coffee, and then leans forward in her seat. ‘yes,' she says. 'i do.’

you tell her about it as coherently as you can: you're sure there's a brand new species of frog — maybe more than one, if you're lucky — on the top of a land mass deep in the forest in guyana. you've secured enough funding to make it happen; bare bones, but still. you have diego and yasmine, your grad students, and michael, another assistant professor in your apartment who's helped you on expeditions before, mostly by carrying a bunch of shit. you've gotten camila — who beatrice is also very excited to work with again — to sign on to do tech work for you. dr. superion and dr. salvius are helping from here.

'so, anyway, i need you to climb the tepui.'

beatrice sits back when you're done, flicks through a few slides on your laptop that you'd handed to her with pictures of the jungle, the cliff face, the budget outlines and logistics and equipment you anticipate you'll need.

'do you know a lot about climbing?'

it's kind — to not assume that you don't; to not expect you to either. you shake your head no.

'i'm an alpinist, for the most part,' she says, 'which means that i climb, well —' she pauses.

'no need to be modest for me.'

she offers a small smile. 'i've climbed eight of the ten tallest mountains in the world.'

hot, you think, but you take a deep breath instead and say, 'that's impressive.' nailed it.

'yes, well.' she blushes. 'thank you. but this kind of climbing is traditional climbing — big wall climbing.'

'oh.' you frown. 'so, you can't do it?'

'i can,' she says, 'and i'd like to. i think i know enough of biology to be marginally helpful, and i can certainly photograph the expedition.'

your heart soars, warming your whole body, and you take a bite of your lukewarm sandwich to hide your smile.

'but i'll need a team. i'm confident that i'll be able to get up the wall, but i'm not experienced enough at this kind of climbing to lead on all of these passes.'

'we might not have the funds to pay much, if you bring on more people.'

she shakes her head. 'i have access to plenty of discretionary funds, so that shouldn't be a problem.'

'that's hot.' well, you tried.

she laughs, thank god. 'i just wanted to make sure that you and your team are okay with me bringing other people on.'

'as long as they aren't, like, shitty, you know. racist, homophobic, ableist. all that stuff.'

she nods, very seriously. 'i can assure you that, while one of my climbing partners is inclined to be an asshole, it's always done with respect toward important identities. she's more annoying than anything. and my other partner is the best person i know.'

'well, other than me, now.'

you can tell beatrice is torn between smiling and rolling her eyes; she does a bit of both. 'and, as far as logistics go, i could easily provide a helicopter to get us in as far as possible. less of a hike.'

it's impossible that beatrice didn't see your cane. 'i have adaptive equipment for myself. i can do the hike.'

but her brows knit together. 'yes, i assumed so: you're leading the expedition. i just meant, for my team at least, the fewer miles we have to bring photography and climbing gear in a jungle, the better. it's heavy, and then we have to do a major climb.'

'oh.' you bite your bottom lip. 'that makes sense. sorry, people suck sometimes.'

'i imagine so.' she looks at you very sincerely. 'i'm sorry.'

you wave her off. 'thanks. it is what it is, though.'

beatrice doesn't try to argue, although you can tell that maybe she wants to. 'anyway, whatever you think will help your team, and whatever will help mine, that falls outside of your grant funds, i can cover.'

'that's — are you sure?'

she nods. 'quite.'

'where did you get these discretionary funds?' you can't help asking.

'a bad man,' she says, leaning forward and whispering dramatically. it makes you laugh.

'ooh, did you kill him? warlord?'

'alas, no. my father, and he's already dead.'

'ah.' you snap your fingers. 'well, if another opportunity comes up, you just let me know. i have tons of lethal neurotoxins in my lab. i'm always down to... you know — murder —' you whisper — 'a billionaire. long haul ethics, you know?'

she nods very solemnly, fighting a smile. 'i'll keep that under advisement.'

you fight the urge to ask her for a drink, and you definitely stare at her mouth a little too long, but then you get it together and offer your hand. 'well, partners?'

she shakes it, hers strong and rough with callouses. the thought sends a little shiver up your spine, but you valiantly ignore it. 'partners.'

/

beatrice invites you, after a few days of emailing back and forth to create an updated budget and logistics plan, to meet at a climbing gym. it's to meet her other two team members first. before you all get together with your main crew for dinner afterward. she'd given you their names, headshots, and very formal bios, which you had kind of loved: lilith, who, according to beatrice's bio, will be the lead climber. when you google her, you find out that she's, like, a world champion big wall climber, so that bodes well. and then mary, another photographer and world class marksman — I know this isn't particularly relevant, beatrice had included as a footnote, but it is quite impressive — and avid climber too.

you're hopeful about it all, and you're hopeful that tonight maybe she just wants to see you alone, and to have you watch her climb. there's, like, a two percent chance you'll physically be able to climb, really, but that's fine. she'd texted you about it, far less formal than her perfectly punctuated emails, so that's a good sign. and she'd posted a recent picture someone took of her — a candid, petting the trunk of an elephant peacefully — on her instagram too. maybe that was scheduled — beatrice seems like the kind of person who would schedule instagram posts — but a girl can hope, you know? you liked it one hour and fourteen minutes after she posted, from the lab's social media account and not your personal one, so you figure you've handled this all perfectly. you're great, beatrice is a colleague, and you've got this.

you're stressed about what to wear to a climbing gym and then to get dinner afterward, although there's probably a locker room or something, but it's fine. you're hot in anything. (or nothing. not that the night is going to go there.) you settle on tight leggings you wear to the gym and a sports bra, a cropped jacket on over. it's, like, cute and femme, but also practical. you brush on some mascara and put part of your hair into a little bun so it won't fall into your eyes, and you pack a spare change of clothes in a canvas tote — slacks and a nice bra and a t-shirt that hugs your body perfectly along with a pair of platform converse and an army-green overshirt — in case everyone else changes before going to dinner.

you grab your cane and head out the door.

/

if you fall to your death, it's definitely not going to be because of your back or legs. it's going to be because beatrice is in loose pants that seem comfortable for climbing and a tight racerback tank, and when you walk in, she's hanging by one arm on a short wall, just chilling out there, before she seems to decide what she wants to do. she brings her legs up to find footholds and then she's almost upside down, holding onto the wall with both hands calmly and moving so fluidly — a leg stretching out, her chalked fingers grasping onto a tiny hold. there's a delicate tattoo along her right forearm, all linework, and there are scars all over her left shoulder, running down to her elbow from what you can see: some are jagged and some are clean, neat, like surgical incisions. they don't seem to be limiting her progress at all, because she moves over the outhanging ledge easily and then to the top before just letting go and calmly rolling to her feet after she lands without a sound.

the — very hot — woman, lilith, you know from the headshot, sitting on the floor next to the wall, legs outstretched, leaning back on her palms set flat on the ground behind, and looking impossibly graceful while doing it, groans.

'getting stuck that long on a soft V8? come on, beatrice.'

beatrice, to her credit, just shrugs.

'shoulder?' the other woman asks.

'it's fine,' beatrice says. 'just getting back into the groove of your tiny walls.'

'oh, ha ha.'

'8091 meters will really change your perspective. you should try it sometime.'

'no thanks, i'll stick to my world records, thank you very much.'

they seem like they might physically fight, but then they both start laughing. weird, but you fuck with it.

beatrice turns, her hands on her hips, and, like, whew, god fucking bless, and then waves with a smile when she sees you. she walks over. 'hello ava.'

'hey,' you say, suddenly feeling a little awkward: you have not a single idea what you're doing. 'that was pretty impressive.'

'it was not,' the lilith says.

beatrice heads toward her anyway, and you follow. 'you can ignore her most of the time,' she says. 'dr. silva, this is lilith. lilith, dr. silva.'

'just ava.' you look at beatrice with a raised brow. 'please.'

lilith lazily salutes. 'ava, then. our illustrious leader, i hear. beatrice is making me lead a 1000 foot first ascent for a frog?'

'i'm not making you do anything,' beatrice says, and lilith grumbles like a teenager. it's funny, and you decide that you like her then and there, even if she scares you a little. she scares you a little more when she gracefully gets to her feet. she's tall and imposing, with a sharp face and long hair braided back, more wiry than beatrice's bigger muscles, but — you're sure — just as strong.

she offers her hand, which you shake. 'in my defense,' you say, 'it is a very cool frog. we can even name it after you, if you want.'

this seems to amuse her, because there's a hint of a smile on her face.  'i do like first ascents anyway.'

'see,' you say, 'that's the spirit.'

'ava,' beatrice says, 'no pressure, but i thought you might find it fun to try climbing. only if you'd like.'

'i'm, uh —' you gesture a little clumsily with your cane, the tips of your ears turning red. 'not sure that i can?'

'mary is an adaptive climbing instructor,' beatrice says, gesturing over to the taller wall with ropes connected through pulleys at the top, where a strong Black woman with perfectly neat braids and a dark outfit on is sorting through a few harnesses on the ground. 'but if you'd rather not climb, lilith and i are just finishing up. we can show you a few things we've been practicing in anticipation for the route, and then change and go to dinner.'

beatrice doesn't say either choice with any more or less merit, or worth, or importance: they're choices, and they're yours, and they won't affect how much she trusts you or believes in the expedition. lilith is checking her phone, uninterested at this point, and you decide, as you always have, to try.

'yeah, sure. i have no idea what adaptive climbing is, though.'

beatrice smiles and lilith stays on her phone, texting. 'that's fine. i have no idea about ninety percent of what you study.'

'i find that hard to believe. you're a wildlife photographer.'

she hums, softly touching your elbow and then walking toward mary. 'conservationist photography, sure. but i'm not a biologist.'

you make a note that beatrice doesn't really like wildlife photographer as a job title, although she was polite enough to not outright tell you so. 'well, i'm not a climber, so, quid pro quo?'

'ah, but you will be after tonight,' mary says, standing with a smile and offering her hand. 'dr. silva, right?'

'just ava,' you tell her, endeared by the fact that beatrice had probably been very formally saying dr. silva to her team this entire time. you shake mary's hand as firmly as you can and feel immediately a little more relaxed with the confident, easy way she holds her shoulders, her kind smile, her bright eyes.

'beatrice and i go way back,' she says. 'this project of yours sounds amazing. i was excited when she asked if i wanted in.'

'of course i'd ask,' beatrice says, bumping mary in the shoulder, who rolls her eyes fondly.

'well, beatrice said you were promised an adaptive climbing lesson.'

'if you're still in,' beatrice says, 'mary can show you the ropes.' she laughs at herself. 'literally.'

mary groans, but you're delighted. 'well, don't leave me hanging.'

'no. not another bad pun aficionado. please.'

beatrice grins and you sling an arm over her slightly sweaty and delightfully strong shoulders. she stiffens a little, and mary looks to her for a moment, and you're worried you've overstepped, and fast. but then beatrice relaxes.

you step back and gesture between the two of you happily. 'is this our thing now?'

'if trading terrible puns is wrong, then i don't want to be right.'

mary groans. 'not sure why i agreed to this trip after all.'

'we can name a frog after you, if you want,' you offer.

mary perks up. 'really?'

'yeah,' you say, 'sure. i've already named one after myself and given five others the dumbest, gayest names i could think of.'

'i'm back in, then.'

you laugh. 'well, let's rock and try not to roll.'

mary sighs, but beatrice's muffled laugh into your shoulder is way worth it.

/

Hi Ava, I'll be in town today to get some equipment squared away. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to have dinner if you're free. No shop talk, unless you want

you read and reread the text. you'd gone over shitty — expected, but still shitty — test results from an mri at your neurologist's earlier today, and, even though your team seemed to gel the other night, and all of your logistics are much less daunting now that beatrice has covered some of them financially, you had planned to stay home in your favorite boxers and most comfortable hoodie and wallow with a mediocre bottle of wine and good pizza and great reality tv.

but — hey, that sounds sweet. any places in mind?

beatrice texts back almost immediately. I don't know the area too well. You can pick, if you'd like

like, you're colleagues. you're about to be in one of the most remote parts of the world together in five days, with just a handful of other people, for weeks, maybe longer. you're the leader of the expedition but beatrice is, in important ways, a leader too. she's smart and beautiful and handsome and focused. if it's a date, incredible; if it's not, you still want to know her, you still want to spend time in her gentle warmth.

any food allergies/hatred?

she responds, No, I'm pretty adventurous

still, no clarity, but you set a place and time — one of your favorite tapas restaurants with a great little bar and, if it gets late enough, a good dance floor — and then set about getting ready. you eat a banana and take ibuprofen, which hopefully will help you be able to dance without much pain, and then get as pretty as you deem not desperate for a normal dinner with a colleague to be. which, it's you, so you're still very, very pretty, including one of your very best cleavage tanks. you finish your eyeliner perfectly and blow yourself a little kiss in the mirror. for good luck, or whatever. it's science.

/

'i got tired of it,' beatrice says. 'war photography is...' she pauses, and shakes her head, like she doesn't quite know what to tell you. you're totally sure she's not telling the truth, not really, but you know not to push, to spook her away. 'i could leave,' she settles on. 'as much as i hate the west, as much as i hate american and european, especially british, foreign policy, and its destruction of the world — i got to take pictures, and leave. at first, i thought it was something important i could do, to record the truth. political inherently, anti-imperialist, without being in politics. but, i was in occupied palestine, and, then, after —' she clears her throat, brings her fingers up to ghost over the scar through her brow — 'after. i couldn't do it. they're wars because of my history — our collective history — but they weren't my wars. they aren’t my wars. i can’t photograph them, at least right now. because i got to leave.'

you're horrified that she might start to cry — which isn't horrifying, not at all, you cry all the time, but you're supposed to be having a nice meal with your colleague and you had asked what you thought was an innocuous question about how she got into her more recent conservationist work, but clearly, not innocuous. you're starting to think, with a kind of clarity you very rarely have about anyone, that nothing about beatrice herself is innocuous. even her collarless button down and loose pants cuffed at the ankles — and the way all of her clothes, ever practical, drape with a tailored casualness on her small, strong frame — her easy hair that’s always actually perfectly trimmed and styled, the pattern of callouses on her hands: everything about her is intentioned. she means what she says. she means what she does. she means who she is.

'i started studying frogs with my mom,' you offer. it's true, and you mean who you are too.

she takes a sip of her water and nods in what you can tell is a quiet relief.

'my family is from manaus. my mom wasn't a scientist or anything, she was a bank teller, but when i was little, we'd go out often. she loved the rainforest, so, you know, i loved the rainforest.'

beatrice smiles gently. 'that sounds beautiful.'

you stare down at a croqueta and tear a small piece of it off, let the old ache fill your chest. 'she died, when i was seven.'

'oh,' beatrice says, 'i —'

'— it was a long time ago,' you say.

'sometimes that doesn't make it hurt any less.'

it's permission, to feel how you need to. most people accept when you tell them that and move on in relief, unwilling or unable to give you the space. but beatrice sits steadily. 'i broke my back, during the car accident we were in; we were visiting spain and, well. i had to relearn to walk. it took a really long time, and the orphanage i grew up in wasn't big on good physical therapy or really any care, so i taught myself what i could outside of school, got into university, got good medical care for the first time, like, ever. and i started studying biology. i went back to the rainforest as soon as i could, as a research assistant, and guyana was ... it's mind-blowing, bea.'

she weighs it all in contemplative silence for a moment, trying to decide what you need; what relief she can give. ‘i can't wait to see. i've always wanted to go.'

it is relief, what you feel, to be so immediately seen and understood. 'well, it's not just anyone i'd want to bring to the rainforest. my mom's favorites were always frogs, so —' you shrug, suddenly a little at a loss.

'so here we are, about to go find another.'

you pop the croqueta into your mouth, feel the dull pain in your chest dissipate when you realize you're close enough to beatrice's face to see her freckles. 'i have spinal stenosis, from the accident. it's progressing pretty fast, even with the best medical team, tech, surgeries, all that.'

she nods, like she understands what you mean without making you have to say it. it's a gift, bigger than she probably knows.

'i really want to find that fucking frog.'

'well,' she says, and lifts her glass, 'to finding our frog.'

'you know, it's bad luck to toast with water.'

she frowns. 'i don't usually drink.'

'you're very... controlled.'

she waits a beat and then grins. 'okay, one beer.'

'fuck yeah!'

'one, ava.'

'mhm. whatever you say, bea.'

/

'i have to take the train back,' beatrice argues — or, at least, tries to argue, because her eyes drift down to your boobs when you take your sweater off. success.

'you can just stay at my place. i have a mediocre ikea couch.'

'i can't let you sleep on your own couch.'

you laugh. 'oh, you definitely get the couch. i need all the good mattress support i can get before i sleep in a tent for a month.'

she smiles, gently and a little sad, but then the moment passes, a kind of grace. 'fine.'

'really?'

the set of her shoulders is looser but still sure, still so, so certain. 'yes.'

'hell yeah!' she laughs. 'shots?'

beatrice pulls a face but you order lemon drops anyway, mostly because vodka seems neutral and they're a good shot for people who don't drink often, sweet and tangy and fun. beatrice sniffs hers first — bold move, big mistake most of the time — but then nods in approval.

'to our frog,' you say, and she clinks her glass with yours. you touch it to the bartop and she follows suit, and then take it as smoothly as you can. it's an easy drink, so you don't have any problems, and she swallows without too much of a grimace. 'okay?'

'it's not bad,' she says, and your whole body hums, probably because of the two margaritas you had with dinner and this shot now, but also because there are freckles stretching across her cheeks and gold flecks in her brown eyes and if you let yourself look closely a tiny split on her lip, probably from the dry, cool air recently.

you shake yourself out of... whatever that was, and you order two more shots; she takes hers without hesitation this time, laughing when you spill a little down your cheek. she reaches a hand and wipes with her strong hand, tender, over the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, and then clears her throat, takes her hand back quickly, although you want to ask for her to stay. but instead, 'come on, bea,' you say, 'let's dance!'

she only groans in a show of protest for posterity, you're sure, because she's very strong and you're very small and when you tug on her wrists she follows you easily.

you love to dance; you have always loved to dance: what little you remember of your mom is full of green, the rainforest and the wall of your living room. she would push back all the furniture to the edges, just the two of you in a small apartment, where you slept in the same bed and ate fruit from the trees outside. she would put on britney spears and jump around with you; she would put on stevie nicks and hold you in her arms, swaying around. she was full of light, from what you remember, always ready to read to you, in portugese and in english; to help you with your math and your handwriting. she cut your food for you and bought you new shoes when yours wore through the soles. she had been a good mom in the way good moms are: happy to hold your hand, to rub her nose against yours, to let you eat the batter off the spoon. you don't remember much, not before the accident, but it had been easy, and beautiful — the mist and orchids and green, all around.

beatrice is a little stiff until you start jumping around, fully out of time with the music, just to make her laugh. and she does, a smile lighting up her whole face. her body is graceful like this too, like it's always somehow known exactly how to move. you wonder, fleetingly between songs, what she was like as a child, if she was as sure and smart and kind as she is now. someone crowds into her space from behind and then you're not thinking of anything other than the tickle of her hair against your cheek as she presses into you, the lilt of her laugh into your ear, the hard muscles of her shoulders and the soft, small swell of her hips when you bring your palms to rest there. you're drunk and she's beautiful, and you've kissed lots of beautiful people when you've been drunk. but she closes her eyes and sways to the beat and it's like the rest of the world falls away. it's like there's only you and beatrice and the cloud forest, above anything else that has harmed and will harm again. there's her gold skin and scars and tattoos hidden under her shirt, the healed slices down your spine, the air between your bodies: sweaty, sticky with spilled drinks, thumping bass, everyone else in this bar. there's only the two of you, and it's a little like you've been punched in the gut: you're falling in love with her. it's easy, right now, to put a name to it all, when you can look at her jaw without reproach.

she opens her eyes and looks at you, a smile on her face, and leans in your direction. it's easy, to bring your hand to touch where you had been staring, to say, 'bea,' as she laughs into your neck, says, 'this is so fun, thank you.' it's hard to not kiss her, but she's ... extraordinary, and you don't want your first kiss to be in the middle of a mid-at-best dance floor after a few shots. you want it to be somewhere beautiful. somewhere you already know; somewhere you're certain she'll love.

'let's go home,' you say, because you had done another round somewhere between songs and she's slightly unsteady on her feet. she nods into your neck and you take her hand.

/

you walk back to your apartment with her, one arm looped through hers — 'very gallant,' you'd said when she'd offered, and even in the dim light from the moon and streetlamps you had seen her blush — and your other hand using your cane. she had found it for you, tucked behind where you had been sitting at the bar; she hadn't asked anything about why you didn't use it when you were dancing, or why you need it now. you know so many good people and you organize a lot with some of your other friends who work with the disability center at the university, but there is some kind of a revelation about being seen so wholly.

but maybe you're also just a little drunk, because she sways a bit as you walk and her accent is lilting, tender, her hair messy in her eyes. it's probably as soft as it looks; you had lost your hair tie somewhere between shots two and three and you tuck yours behind your ear. you have so many questions you want to ask her but you hold them in because she looks up at the moon and the stars and it's enough, to be here with her. to know her laugh, now, and the way she has hurt too.

it's enough to just walk.

/

it hadn't actually taken too much convincing — after you unlocked the door and gave her some choices in pajamas, soft sleep shorts and a big cotton crew her eventual choices, and gotten her a glass of water and a few cheddar crackers — to get her to agree to sleep in your bed with you. perhaps it had been because your couch is ... an unknown number of years old — 'listen, bea, phd students make, like, no money, and it was twenty bucks on craigslist three years go' — or maybe, maybe, it's because she just wants to.

you settle in first, listen to her brush her teeth with a spare toothbrush you'd given her, and wash her face with your facewash — that she had frowned at, accidentally rude but pretty funny and, like, fair, you got it from the drug store on the corner and you're sure she has a whole understated fancy little routine when she's not out in the field — and then wash her hands after going to the bathroom. you love sex, so you sleep with people often. you've had a boyfriend before, that you cared about deeply, so there's some parts of intimacy that are familiar to you, of course. but this, beatrice carefully climbing into bed next to you, with her freckles and her eyelashes and the pink of her lips, is different: you're not going to kiss her, not right now. you're not going to reach out and put your palm on her jaw like you want to, or feel the warm skin of her ribs, the goosebumps that would inevitably rise there if you raked your nails across the ridges. you're not going to because, you know, somewhere elemental in you, that you want to know her, and love her, for a long time. you want to take her to the rainforest.

'where's your favorite place in the world?' you ask instead, whisper it into the dark, the soft outline of her face.

she's turned toward you, her hands tucked carefully under her chin; it makes her look younger. 'tibet. the himalayas.'

'makes sense. you and your big mountains.'

'what's the last mountain you... summited?'

'annapurna. it's the tenth tallest in the world.' she pauses, considering. 'are we playing twenty questions?'

her eyelids are drooping. 'i don't think you're going to be awake for twenty questions.'

she laughs softly. 'i want to ask you one, though.'

'hmm. sure. two to four questions, then.'

'do you... uh, well, okay. do you like women?'

it's so awkward, so out of place for someone so sure, that you have to fight the urge to burst out in laughter. but it's also soft, and nervous, her eyes wide. it makes you feel sixteen again, full of possibility. 'yeah, bea. i'm bi. i love women.'

she nods, tucks her hands even tighter under her chin, lets a big relieved breath out. 'cool.'

'yeah?'

'mhm. i'm a lesbian, if you didn't know.'

you want to say you're the gayest looking person i've ever met but you refrain. for the romance of it all. 'good to know.'

she tries hard to wink and fails miserably. you let yourself, just once, just for a moment, reach out and run your hand through her hair. she leans into your touch, relaxes under it, before you fold yourself back onto your side of the bed. 'you have one more question.'

'so do you.'

'okay. hmm. favorite ice cream flavor?'

she laughs. 'that's what you want to know.'

you nod. 'it's very important information.'

'okay.' she thinks hard about it, genuinely. 'mint chocolate chip?'

'that's so boring, jeez.'

'oh, i'm sorry. simple combinations of dynamic tastes is probably too sophisticated for you to understand.'

'okay, ratatouille.'

she tries, a valiant effort, to not crack a smile, but she eventually does. 'okay, my turn. favorite color?'

you let your eyes fall closed and imagine it all, the sharp thorns and the torrential rain and the chirp of the neon blue frog you'd found last time. you think about taking her there. 'green, of course,' you tell her, a promise, a future in the clouds. 'green.'

[semisolidmind]

Since this was gonna be longer than a standard ask, I thought I'd submit it instead.

Here are my human x mascot OCs for Fuwa Fuwa Pandemic

Sakiko "Kiki" Djobo

They/she

Has a Togolese father and a Japanese mother. Raised primarily in the U.S. but spent a lot of time with family in their parents' home countries growing up.

Kiki was able to get a job as an English teacher at a Japanese school that happened to be close to where her maternal grandparents lived, so she spent some time visiting them before her job officially started. That is, unfortunately, when everything went down.

Kiki ends up escaping an encounter with a mascot, but her grandparents sacrificed themselves to save her. They hid her in an old bunker in the house, where she stayed until the threat of starvation forced her out.

Eventually, she meets up with a group of survivors, mostly around her age, who are trying to find the perfect place to settle, where there are few mascots or where they can more easily defend themselves from attacks.

The group travels far, but eventually they come across an old farm near a city that seems to be mostly left alone at this time and decide to make it their homebase. Kiki, who likes to garden, and a grad student who was studying industrial agriculture convince the group to try and farm it for a steady source of food. There's even a stream that bisects the farmland, a stable source of water they can exploit for themselves and the crops.

Suiko

He/him

Suiko is an apex mascot, inspired by a mythical water creature that, according to folk tradition, inhabited that very creek, the Kappa.

Because the mascot he was based on was actually made of waterproof materials, Suiko is one of the only mascots who has the ability to swim, as his skin is naturally smooth and watertight.

His swimming prowess has allowed him to supplement his carnivorous diet with water creatures, such as fish and frogs. But he'll drown a human if he's hungry enough and the opportunity presents itself. Transient survivors are often drawn to the creek because it's a good water source.

If he's not that hungry or he's too tired to hunt, he may engage survivors in polite conversation, but they should still be wary of him.

How They Met

At first, Suiko enjoys his solitary life, but he begins to grow lonely. Until, one day, a group of survivors overtakes the recently abandoned farm that surrounds his part of the creek. He revels in the prospect of a steady source of meals for the next week or so.

But one of them comes to the creek to do laundry, and he has to admit, he finds them kind of attractive. And he's not that hungry at the moment, so he reveals himself and promises not to hurt them if they don't try to run from him.

The human hesitantly agrees, eventually introducing herself as Sakiko, or Kiki, for short. Even though this mascot is polite to her, she can't help but feel disappointed that her group might have to move again. Until she remembers a bit of folklore about Kappas; they love cucumbers. And the farm has a few cucumber plants that are putting out fruits like crazy. So Kiki promises to come back and give him one. He's a little skeptical, but he lets her go because he's genuinely curious about this exalted "cucumber."

Kiki leaves to put the clothes out to dry and comes back with a handful. Suiko's face lights up when he tries the strange fruit and he becomes somewhat obsessed with them.

So he and Kiki strike a deal that, if she brings him cucumbers whenever she can and talks with him for a while, he'll leave the other survivors alone and will hide from them while continuing to defend his territory from rival mascots.

—————-

they sit by the river and “talk” (suiko talks, kiki listens and tries not to think about how easily he could tear her apart)

[theficpusher]

You Smell Like by mystic_believexx | M | 185369 For her part, Jay took everything in her stride, barely batting an eyelid when Louis came into the kitchen the night Harry left and said, “I seem to have accidentally become the pack’s Alpha”. Ever since Harry left town, Louis’ found himself with the role of pack Alpha, despite being human. So he can’t wait to hand over the reins when Harry returns. Except, it’s not quite that simple… OR The one where Louis is the Alpha’s mate and everyone is aware of it except for Louis and Harry. Go figure!

the school of extraordinary lovers by stylinsoncity | M | 191036 "We keep telling the other, I love you and I love you, and we do, though we both know where the knives are." - Laura Van Prooyen harry is a third-year witch and violinist at Laitswold, the only magical academy in the UK, with dreams of taking on the world, and hopefully breaking the centuries-old curse on his family while he's at it. he does not dream of facing off against his childhood rival and duet partner, but louis is back in town after six years abroad, so that's exactly what happens.

Darling, so it goes by disgruntledkittenface | E | 195312 Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. He doesn’t think they’ll ever see each other again, but after striking up a correspondence, it turns out they have more in common than he thought. Then they start to fall for each other. Louis is different from anyone Harry has dated before and their relationship moves fast as Harry realizes he’s ready for a change. Soon Harry finds himself adapting to an entirely new life, in a country where he doesn’t know the rules, the customs, even the language. Harry is used to people underestimating him, and he’s more determined than ever to prove them wrong. He just needs Louis to meet him halfway. Grace Kelly AU.

Angels Fly by LilyBlue28 | nr | 203082 Harry is a lonely omega in the North Western White River Pack who is uncharacteristically drawn to nature and his now outdated primal instincts. He fills his days with going through the motions and clinging to the one actual friendship he has in the omega Zayn, and when he gets a chance he sneaks away to the edge of their territory to sit with the trees and the wildlife and sketch his favorite part of the river. But what happens when one day he spots the pack alpha, Louis, having an intimate moment with something, or someone, unexpected? Suddenly his quiet, nearly invisible existence gets upended, and secrets he never wanted to know quite literally won't leave him alone, and even when he tries to stay away, he keeps being pulled back into Louis' turbulent orbit. A magical love story featuring a generations long grudge, a menacing curse, and secrets that keep pulling them apart. Will they be able to find a way back to one another through the dark?

Collision by itjustkindahappened | E | 226294 Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other. (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

You Can Hear It In The Silence by Imogenlee | E | 234846 When Harry Styles received acceptance into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat leaving him with three options: 1) Moving back into student halls. 2) Becoming homeless. 3) Moving in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other friends. He ended up choosing the third option. But it was a close race. Shame one of his new housemates reminded him why he only has one friend. If Louis Tomlinson had to choose one thing couldn't stand, it would be pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If he had to choose something he couldn't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads. That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser. In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they were opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that had no business be kept secret.

The Things I Don't Ask by thisonegoes | E | 266670 Foster Montgomery Preparatory School is a sight to behold. Beautiful buildings in front of a beautiful Appalachian backdrop, a rich history, behind wrought iron gates with the carefully chosen Latin motto at the very top: “strenuis ardua cedunt.” “The heights yield to endeavor.” The price tag for such a distinguished and revered institution, for tuition, room, and board is $56,250. A year. A boarding school AU that features two boys who can never say how they really feel.

Remember Me Before You by kingsofeverything | E | 293820 Desperate to find a new place to live after he comes home to find his boyfriend cheating, Harry moves into a loft with three strangers. A New Girl AU.

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen | E | 630460 In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of. Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance. Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

[edutainer2022]

Fun update. Well, mostly. If I don't take it all with a grain of gallows humor, I might as well go crazy. Remember how I was so sick my grad students volunteered to step up for a presentation yesterday. Well... about that. A missile strike alert went off half an hour prior, so the designated delegated presenter (my grad student) peaced out and went to a bomb shelter. The presentation was several months in the making and I'm, frankly, beyond pissed off for the life we're all missing on being, you know... actively killed every day. So I dragged myself up, somehow, made myself look presentable (if zombie look counts) and actually delivered the presentation (because I honestly don't care if the missile strikes right when I'm online anymore - maybe it'll help make a point). Provided I can barely talk for two minutes without hacking a lung out and start puking, and my fever doesn't go down for a week, it went well. But the effort got me completely exhausted and nearly passed out. So I kinda slept for about 18 hours straight after that, and woke up to missed calls and messages from around the world, because I slept through a major bombing that made it into news, it turned out. Go figure. I do vaguely remember a missile intercept station going off nearby, but I thought it was fever dreaming. I don't know if there's a fic idea in there somewhere.

[unseededtoast]

Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Part 3/37 | Part Two & Part Four

Summary: I've lived every day for the past five years looking over my shoulder. I knew they'd come for me, it was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could outrun my past. It's followed me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Never would I have anticipated that the shadows would lead me to the light.

Bucky Barnes x OC

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, alcohol consumption, graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, discussion of suicidal thoughts.

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

"A few weeks ago we came into contact with one of Hydra's weapons...We found ourselves in possession of this weapon but we are unable to decode whatever it is Hydra installed."

The chains clink against the metal fixture on the desk as the handcuffs are released from my wrists. I rub them, feeling the small indents they left on my skin and stay seated though I am free from restraints. I watch Director Fury closely, knowing I'm not entirely free and am still under his command.

"I'll be right back, don't leave this room." He instructs and I remain seated, not willing to move and jeopardize the new start I have been granted. A few moments pass and he brings in a bowl of water and some plain white cloth.

"You need to wash up before you leave this room, there's no time to waste for your assignment." I grab the cloth and wet it with some of the water, cleaning off my face and hands of the dead man's blood. The water turns a dark reddish brown as I continue to wet the cloth after wiping off the blood. I wonder what can be so urgent that they're going to assign me to something only moments after I pledged loyalty. I find it very peculiar that they're giving me an assignment instead of placing me under observation for a while. For all they know I could be lying about everything, something seems off. But, I can't question it or I'll look even more suspicious.

As I finish cleaning myself up, Director Fury beckons me to follow him out of the room. I stand and follow the man,

"I want you to meet some people. They're working on a project dealing with memories. Perhaps you can enlighten them and speed the process up given your background. It would be most beneficial that our scientists understand this as much as you do. It's a time sensitive matter. But make no mistake you will be watched, and if you try anything we will handle it." He explains in an authoritative voice as he leads me through hallways. What can be so time sensitive about my work? I ponder the question and feel uneasy about what the answer may be but remain optimistic.

The Director opens a glass door, where there are two people working. I recognize one of them as an Avenger. The lab is full of top of the line equipment and the most advanced technology I've ever seen. My palms begin to sweat as memories flash through my mind, the same scenario, different years. But I know this time it's different, it has to be. There's just no way I pledged myself to repeat the same mistake all over again.

"Bruce, this is Adalyn Averina, and she's been so kind as to provide her expertise on the project." I'm grateful that Director Fury opted to leave out the grittier, less pretty details for my sake. I nod to Bruce, who I know is also the Hulk from numerous tv broadcasts I've seen over the years. I'm introduced to the other scientist as well, she's a grad student at a local university here on an internship. The Director leaves the lab wordlessly, leaving me without any specific tasking. I feel lost and very much out of place. Everything seems to be happening at a very rapid pace, and it's not only disorienting but peculiar as well. I rub my arm anxiously and look to Bruce for any sort of direction.

"Yeah, as Fury said I'm Bruce, it's nice to meet you Adalyn, welcome to the team." He warmly smiles, eroding away some of the nerves. I smile back and approach him at the table he's working at. I see he has microscope slides laid out on a table, and I try to decipher what they are.

"It's nice to meet you as well, I assume we're lab partners then?" My eyes break away from the slides and up to his, they glimmer with humor.

"Yeah, I guess you can say we're lab partners. Oh, these are all brain matter, the subject suffered from severe Alzheimer's. Tony's been on a kick about retrieving memories, some childhood trauma thing I think. It just so happened that the project aligned with Tony's interests." Bruce rambles on and I nod, following what he's saying though I don't even know what the project is specifically about, or what the goals are.

"Well, I don't mean to interrupt your own research, it's just that I've already conducted these studies. I still have more to do, but I've got this much down." I say, hoping he doesn't take offense. His eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Really? That's remarkable. Do you have anything published? I swear I've looked everywhere for this information." I shake my head at his question.

"No, nothing is published publicly, but I do have a substantial amount of experience under my belt. I can explain it all to you, if you want of course. I'm not trying to stop you from doing your own research." I say, becoming more comfortable in his presence.

"By all means, please. I'm all ears." He sits down on a stool and I nod.

I explain the very basics to him, the parts of the brain and their functions, and how diseases such as Alzheimer's wear away at the brain matter. I briefly explain that with electrical stimulation, some of the parts of the brain can be programmed, in a way, and that this method can be used for several different uses. I explain that memory retrieval is very difficult and usually has to be handled on a case-to-case basis; treatment has to be tailored to the individual's experience, it's not a cookie cutter situation. I spare the details of what my experience is, and thankfully he doesn't ask. Hopefully he assumes my experiments were conducted on lab rats. He sits in silence after I finish my spiel, he rubs his chin as he thinks it all over.

"I think you might be the answer Tony's been looking for. I don't know where he is right now, but when he gets back you'll have to fill him in. You've got some good stuff, how old are you by the way? You seem a little young to be this educated."

"I'm 24." I answer and he nods.

"Well, that's very impressive and I'm glad we've got you alongside us now." I smile appreciatively and look to the noise coming from behind me. I see a short girl dressed in the standard Shield uniform.

"I was sent to get you." She speaks to me and I nod, following her. She leads me to another part of the building and up to the third floor.

"I'm showing you to your room where you will be staying for the duration of your time here." I stay silent and follow her down the hall. The hall only has six doors in total, I'm guessing some other employees live here. She stops at the third door on the right and nods to me,

"This is your room, and I've been told someone will come retrieve you momentarily." She says and walks off, leaving me alone. Shield sure does trust new recruits a lot to keep leaving me alone. I don't know if I would be as trusting of someone with my background. But perhaps I'm under surveillance, and they're observing what I do. That would be the smart thing to do.

I watch her walk out of the hall and then turn the door's handle. The room inside is bare. There's a single bed in the middle with a nightstand on one side, a lamp beside the door, a dresser against the wall opposite of the bed with a mirror hanging above it. I walk inside and shut the door behind me, familiarizing myself. I see an attached bathroom, noting that it also is small and basic. I stare at the bed longingly, this has been the most exhausting day I've had in a long time. I sit on the bed and stretch, soaking in the little peace I've had all day.

Though I should feel anxious after everything that's happened, I know I'm in the safest place I could possibly be. I'm too tired to worry about anything, the anxiety will have to wait until the morning. I close my eyes and breathe in the cool, crisp air of the room.

Although my bed at home was far more comfortable, this one offers a sense of security that my old one could've never provided. And though it's less than ideal to be working for another organization, it sure beats being on the run for the rest of my life. I'm just nervous to see what the project is about, and why they're looking for someone with my skill set. A sudden knock on the door startles me from my momentary peace and I jump up to answer the door.

"Miss Averina, I hope you're finding the accommodations to be up to your standard?" Director Fury questions and I nod,

"Of course, sir. Thank you." I pay my gratitude and he starts walking down the hall.

I shut the door behind me and follow him. People stare as we walk by and I wish I could vanish. They could know absolutely nothing about me, or they could know everything, there's no way for me to tell. Ignoring the stares is easier said than done, but I focus on the back of Fury's bald head, hoping the light reflecting off of it is enough of a distraction.

"Time to meet your new team." Fury says, opening a door.

We step in and I see four people sitting around a table. I recognize them all. I feel uneasiness creep into me but I try to ignore it. I rub my palms together as I look at each of the people at the table. Luckily, I've already met one of them.

Bruce sends a warm smile my way and I return it to the best of my ability, the others watching my every move. I take a seat next to Fury and wait for anyone else to say something, I cannot stand the tense silence in the room. From the status of the people in this room I'm concerned about what the project could be, it's obviously not something small if four Avengers are involved.

"So, it seems that we're in God's good graces as he's sent us someone who I believe can crack the code." Fury begins speaking, all eyes lingering on him except mine. I continue to look at the people in the room, knowing they could all single handedly kill me in a split second if they so desired.

"Bruce has already met the newest member of the team, but I'll let her speak for herself." Fury turns the attention to me and I nod shortly. I wasn't expecting to be put on the spot. I lick my lips and wipe the palms of my hands on my thighs.

"I am Adalyn Averina and I am a professor specializing in brain anatomy and physiology, with a focus in memory functions. I have an extensive background in this field and I am happy to help in whatever way I can." I keep my introduction short and sweet, not giving up too much information.

"Sorry, but with all due respect you don't look a day over 20. Bruce and I have been working on this for weeks now and haven't been able to figure it out but you just so happen to understand everything?" The man sits forward in his seat, looking intensely at me. This must be the Tony Stark charm I've heard rumors of. I nod my head, hoping to calm the rising tension.

"Yes, like I said I have extensive experience and research into this topic, I've been involved in it since I was a little girl." I see him internally trying to piece things together.

"Okay hold on. So you're like a child prodigy or something? And you have a Russian accent, I hear it. Fury where did you find her? You're sure she's not another spy?" Tony seems paranoid, and I can't blame him because I too find this situation unconventional.

"It is highly unlikely that she's a spy, Stark." Fury defends my credibility. Tony stays quiet but stares.

"She was in the lab earlier with me Tony, she knows her stuff." Bruce also sticks up for me. It's weird having Fury and Bruce defend me though I've known them both less than two hours. The blonde haired man sits up straighter in his seat and makes eye contact with me.

"I know Bruce and Tony have a scientific interest in your work, but it's a little more personal to me. If you can help us, I will be very grateful." I give him a small smile. I like him, he seems just as he appears on the television. He is the personification of honor.

"I will do my very best to help. I am unsure of what the tasking is, I'm still in the dark about that." I admit, looking between all the people at the table. The one redhead has been quiet the entire time, though she's been studying me with slightly squinted eyes. I hear Fury sigh and I look to him,

"A few weeks ago we came into contact with one of Hydra's weapons. The timing could not have been a coincidence, we've found a few Hydra spies in the past few weeks but we've eradicated them. We found ourselves in possession of this weapon but we are unable to decode whatever it is Hydra installed." I scrunch my eyebrows, concentrating on what he's saying. It doesn't make sense, I'm not a weapons expert.

As if I had run into a brick wall, it feels like the breath has been knocked out of me and my eyes widen a bit, there's no way they could possibly be talking about my Hydra mission, though it would all make sense. I suppress my anxiety and focus on the matter at hand. Fury turns in his chair and plays a video on a hologram.

I watch the scene unfold. Steve is fighting with a man on a highway that's been blown to hell. My stomach drops and I feel like I'm going to pass out. There's no way. My eyes are intensely glued to the video, and I watch as knives get twirled and punches are thrown. I watch as the metal clashes on metal, and I tear my eyes away from the fight being displayed. I stare at the table, trying to not hyperventilate. I hear the video pause and the room is eerily silent.

"Fury she looks like she's going to pass out." Bruce points out and I continue staring at the table.

"Do you know him?" The nice blonde man from earlier, Steve Rogers, asks. I meet his blue eyes and see the desperation in them. I nod my head, gripping the sides of my seat.

"The Winter Soldier. He was my mission." I manage to say without throwing up all over the table. This has to be some sort of nightmare I'm trapped in, there's no way this is reality. The rest of the table silently looks at one another in shock.

"Your mission?" Steve asks, leaning on the table, getting closer to me. I sense both curiosity and hostility.

"I worked for Hydra since the day I was born, my father was a man of Hydra notoriety. I was indoctrinated and trained. I had a special talent for understanding how people work, how the mind works. It was my job to improve what Arnim Zola created during World War Two. I didn't want to do it, but I didn't have a choice. I programmed their most efficient and deadly weapon and ruined a man at the same time." I admit. Steve stares at me with a blank expression, and I quickly meet his gaze with one of sympathy and regret.

The rest of the members take this information in and process it. There's no easy way to explain what I did, it's more of a "rip the band-aid off" situation and mend relationships from there. I feel shame and guilt wash over my body as I recall my earlier days working for Hydra. I remember every second of what I did, the pain I inflicted and the lives I've ruined.

[inkofamethyst]

October 2, 2023

After two and a half days of illness, I'm pretty much back to regular functioning (with occasional sneezes but at least the sinus pressure has majorly receded). This does mean that I'm about two days behind where I wanted to be, but I'm going to have to try as best as I can to catch up so Thursday doesn't ~suck~. I don't really want my sleep to suffer though [edit 2, next morning: failed, reverse bedtime procrastination strikes again], that's a habit I'd like to leave back in undergrad if possible. Man, I can't wait until I'm done with (undergrad-level) classes (though then I'll have to structure my own days which is another kind of challenge).

Anyway back to the house conversation, I'm obviously facing a major hurdle preventing ownership: the down payment. I know I listed out all of those "little" savings goals a bit ago, but preparing for a down payment is a huge goal, like tens upon tens of thousands of dollars in some places, and I don't want that to bite into my emergency fund which I am also trying to build (though the emergency fund will likely be much smaller than the down payment goal). The toughest part is that saving in grad school is terribly difficult. The first year and a half are so are going to be weird because I don't really know what my taxes will look like, but budgeting should become easier as I settle in.

And then and then not only do you have to do a down payment, but also hoa fees, monthly mortgage, insurance, figuring out how to get things fixed when (not if) they break, not to mention all the fees you have to worry about before moving in and all the people you have to pay... so many things to consider, so much cash to raise. And like yes I know that serious saving requires serious sacrifice, but bread and roses man. I wanna get a bass guitar in two years, I'm solidifying a wardrobe, I wanna keep sewing. I don't wanna be so single-track-minded that I'm totally miserable for years (like they tell phd students to not let Being In School stop them from living their lives).

I need to talk to a financial advisor, agh. So many things online are saying that renting could be the better move,,,,, but something deep in my bones tells me that it's propaganda of some sort.

God the way I could've been absolutely insufferable as a (metaphorical) finance bro had I actually taken accounting seriously in high school. Like I totally could've gotten a degree in finance and gone into consulting had I not taken money for granted in high school and really thought seriously about it. Honestly...? That probably would've been an easier way to live than the path I've chosen, but I suspect that what I'm doing will be a bit of fun and probably more intellectually stimulating. So that's okay. I guess.

Another funny thing about this whole ~house~ mini-obsession is that it was merely a month ago that I was freaking out (mildly) about the idea of moving away from home lol.

On to different topic entirely, Knowt has got to be my fav quizlet successor. Having anatomy experience is definitely making these practical cram sessions go by faster.

Today I'm thankful that I'm mostly back to normal and also that I decided to go to this social hour thing where I might've made a new friend (someone who knows my puzzle-friend actually lol)! Now comes the tough part--finding and scheduling things to do with them. It's not like high school where you are with people all the time and come to learn who they are gradually. This takes a lot more conscious effort I feel like.

Okay, enough time spent here. I have (too many) things to do.

[edit, like 20 minutes later: I think I just worked through necessity vs sufficiency in my head and im so proud]

[dionysus-complex]

.

[mikaharuka]

2022 Writerly Year Review

I was tagged for this by @0nelittlebirdtoldme; I in turn tag the amazing @kayedium-writes, @udaberriwrites, @mrsmungus, @magma-saarebas19 and @sliebman10.

Total number of completed works: Let's go with 4 - technically it's 2, and the other 2 are works that can stand alone and have been put on hiatus for now, but could theoretically be picked up later on.

Total number of WIPs worked on this year: Hmm... let's go with 2 on this one. Technically I started writing Apricity last year on my own, but I didn't start posting until this year and I ended up throwing out most of what I wrote last year anyways. The other work is the 5+1 elemental interlude, Mahabhuta, that I started just as 2022 was coming to a close.

WIPs neglected this year: None, actually. Mostly because I don't intentionally take on projects only to never work on them. I had draft notes for WIPS from years ago in my Google Drive, but I never intended to publish them - those are just bonuses if I feel like going back.

Fandoms I've written in: Only two - Fire Emblem Three Houses (for Ferdibert, specifically) and Twilight/Life and Death (for my Winter Light verse)

Total word count: The 81k or so words I have on Apricity's first 14 chapters so far.

Looking back, did you write more than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you expected? Seeing as I totally forgot about my fics and didn't start writing again until August of this year, I'd say I did about what I expected, writing-wise.

Did you take any writing risks this year? Posting my long-fic to AO3 in the first place. I'd only done a few oneshots years ago in a different fandom (FE3H), so this was a total shot in the dark for me.

Do you have any goals for the new year? Write at least 500 words every day (so far a success on day 2). Get at least 1 chapter/month on Apricity, but also finish all of Mahabhuta (the 5+1 smut/elemental interlude piece), start this other 7-chapter long-fic that focuses on another character, and random one-shot bits that strike me here and there.

Biggest disappointment? That I couldn't write faster than 1 chapter a month. Part of that is my grad student life, but a good part of that is me contending with my ADHD brain, so...

Biggest surprise? That people actually liked my weird niche? Like... I threw out 98% of canon and went with this unusual Eastern-take and new lore, history, character dynamics and backstories... and somehow people actually like it? This is really strange and weird and doesn't have any ties to the fandom beyond the superficial 2% that I kept?? Especially people who write in and have tastes in totally different niches than what I'm writing? I'm flattered, but also shocked, and also grateful for the support!

Most popular story of the year? Naturally the long-fic, Apricity. Pretty much the only thing I published this year, so...

What's your own favorite story of the year? See above.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Uh... I don't think I can call out much here. My long-fic from this year and the few one-shots from long ago seem just fine to me?

Most fun story to write: Seeing as I'm totally lost in Winter Light brain rot, I'd say anything related to that universe and not just Apricity. Right now, I'm already 2k into Mahabhuta and find that surprisingly easier to write (I did that much in two days, for real!)

Most unintentionally telling story: Err... same as above.

My favorite part of fandom this year: Because of my niche, I don't really have a 'place' in the Twilight fandom in the traditional sense. But of course not - I freaking threw out everything that made that story. The only thing I kept were the names and appearances and very superficial pieces... so I can't really say that I'm part of that fandom even though I technically am. As a result, I found my space in multi-fandom spaces like on Reddit or Discord or now, on Tumblr, and I'm so very grateful for all the lovely, talented writers who've not only supported me, but also have shown me stuff totally out of my usual fare that I've grown to love quite a bit!

~Mizuka

[allthefujoshiunite]

Replicant: The Love of Dolly the Sheep Review

Hi everyone! As promised, I came back to talk about the 4-chapter long BL manga that graced us on Futekiya  the other day - Replicant: The Love of Dolly the Sheep by Yamada Supokon. I'll keep it spoiler-free as much as I can. My first BL review in 2023, let's go ~

You can read the first chapter for free here, but having no futekiya subscription in this day and age as a BL fan? Not acceptable.

Before I get to the series, for the longest time I've been selfishly wanting characters who study/work in STEM in my little corner. I don't even need the theme itself to be related to science, and surely I have nothing against humanities/artist people but?? I feel like I barely see a character from STEM. The only title that comes to mind at the top of my head is Perfect Fit (Thanat), but other than that, unless the topic itself is science-related, I don't think I see STEM students/grads. We exist and some of us are gay, okay?

Now that I got that out of my system, I'll start by saying that Replicant was an interesting SciFi piece that opens with a grandfather reminiscing his past with his granddaughter, and manages to introduce a very interesting twist, closing on a bittersweet note.

One theme that was striking and reminded me of a book of essays on beauty years ago by Francette Pacteau called "The Symptom of Beauty" (official introduction below if you're curious about the context). In the chapter "The Imaginary Companion", the focus is on artificial women and the men who create them. "Tales about the creation of an artificial woman are spun from disappointment with the imperfection of real women." The power this quote holds... 

As the author continue to give examples from ancient mythsand modern sci-fi alike, they also make a point that these men are pushing boundaries, "tempting God", and this "male procreation [is] premised on the exclusion of reproductive woman". (Now that I give it another read, the book seems trans-exclusionary but let's let that slide for now.) I've never thought of the act of artificial creation as giving birth before, hence the reason why I still remember the chapter today.

!!!SPOILERS!!! Circling back to Replicant; and this part contains spoilers from the 2nd chapter, it was very interesting to see Chris referring to the clones as "his children". and not only in context of wanting a child himself, but yearning for a "normal" relationship with Seth,being able to stand by his side as a lover the way Christina can. This is beautifully conveyed through two successive panels where Chris is reminded of Christina's expectations. They are even similar in their names and appearance. That could only mean one thing for Chris, who has to conceal the hunger and pining he has for his friend; a replica of Seth. 

!!!SPOILERS END!!!

With the twist we get to see towards the end, Replica proved to be a very compelling, inventive, and emotional read and I'm so glad I got to meet Yamada Supokon through this evocative & thought-provoking volume. As always, I'd like to hear what you think! Let me know through comments or reblogs.

[donner-mathis-official]

(HI pretend that I'm sending this from @tldconvictdatingsim) do you have any Donner headcanons or just general thoughts abt him? if so, please share🤲 I'd love to hear them!

@tldconvictdatingsim you have given me such a gift I am going to go insane now I have been thinking about this through an entire day of airline hell.

First of all, I see Donner as being the youngest known Long Dark character. I usually put his age somewhere between 19 and 23 (Jace is a grad student, so she’s probably in her mid to late twenties). He’s got Issues, and doesn’t know how to feel about his dad coming to bust him out. I also think that pre-solitary Donner and any Donner we would see in the game’s time span are almost entirely different people. I won’t get into my views on prison as an institution because I don’t know enough about the Canadian penal system, but I am of the stance that solitary confinement is a form of torture. Donner is almost definitely not a new inmate at Blackrock, and has likely been in solitary for at least a few months. Even for someone who was in a good mental state going in, that would be rough. Donner definitely was not in a good mental state.

To me, Franklin’s comment that Donner is new-school, a different type of crime than Mathis, is very telling. The way I see it, Mathis is a career criminal like you see in movies and video games. I’m not sure if I would go so far as to say charismatic, but that’s certainly what he tries for. While it would be really funny if the fact that Donner is a more modern criminal meant he was a cryptobro or something, that’s definitely not it. When I was playing through it for the first time, my brain went to mass shooter pretty much immediately. Though honestly I think that what exactly he did doesn’t really matter a ton at the end of the day. I will say that I also think his trial was a huge media spectacle. He was a conventionally attractive young man who committed a major crime, and there is no small number of people who get really amped about that kind of stuff.

I think his relationship with his father is an interesting one. We know Mathis has spent a good amount of time in jail. I’d need to rewatch the cutscene where Heller and Vachon talk about Montréal, but I believe Heller refers to that incident as having occurred a few years prior. I think Mathis goes in and out of jail, and that’s sort of a blessing and a curse for Donner. On one hand, Mathis is very mercurial and explosive, meaning that when he’s angry, he’s enraged. That’s not really a good look on a parent, and it makes for a more relaxing time when the parent is not there. But also, we see that Mathis cares very deeply for his boy. He goes to nearly the end of the earth for him. So I’d imagine that, when not mad, he would be a very loving and supportive father. And while I do think that we see Mathis in a very high-strung, tense situation during the game, he strikes me as the type to find excuses to be tense, because if he slows down he might think of all the things he tries not to think about.

I think Donner’s mother is very distant if she’s present in his life at all, just because Mathis is so present, and his absence is felt so clearly that I think it just doesn’t make sense for his mother to also have that larger than life personality. Mathis likes to surround himself with followers (his in game description specifically says he likes to think of himself as a leader of men), and I don’t think he would be any different in searching for a romantic or sexual partner. So Donner’s mom really isn’t helping to blunt the effect of Mathis’s outbursts, or fill in the spaces he leaves when he’s gone. She’s at best just kind of there.

Donner’s upbringing taught him that there were two ways to get attention: either be clever and charming, or cause problems. Being charming is preferable because it doesn’t get you in trouble (and he’s seen the kind of trouble his dad gets into), but it doesn’t always work. Prior to solitary, he’s the kind of guy where most people who know him are like “but he’s so sweet!” and are horrified how he could do what he did, whatever it was. Someone particularly insightful might have seen the way he looked at people, analytical, and maybe understood a hint of what was lying beneath, but it would have been difficult. Unlike his father, I think Donner is very rigid, very put together. He saw the outbursts in his father and said “i won’t do that”, and so he’s this incredibly composed dude right up until he… isn’t.

After solitary, though, I think that changes. He loses some of the charisma, some of the ability to interact with others, but that comes with those walls coming down a bit, the tightly laced image of himself that he portrays loosening up a bit. Keeping up that kind of a front takes constant practice and adaptation and when you haven’t spoken to another person in months, you lose a lot of that. He comes across more like his dad, which I think he has really mixed feelings about. He tries to keep it together, but he can’t, and that upsets him more and makes a real nasty feedback loop.

Also I think he’s gay but super repressed and it freaks people out bc they’re like “a young man with no interest in women? That’s fucked up.”

[rachelllbucks]

Halfway through the year.

January 3rd - Altitude sickness.

I’m waiting in line to board, feeling very ambivalent as I take in the last pieces of America I’ll see for who knows how long. Large parts of my heart exist 11,000 kilometers apart from each other. The fact that they’ll never reassemble makes me cry as the plane takes off.  

-

January 28th - Heavens Locos. 

He called me the love of his life, straight-out and sincerely to a few friends. When he turned and looked at me with absolute affection, I felt like I was looking at my future. I wonder if he thought the same. I regret the words I left unsaid. 

-

February 4th - Soul sister.  

I listen while she sobs through the phone, my own tears building. I can physically feel the distance between us and it makes me feel helpless. I try my best to close the gap with honest and tender words of love. Even in her adversity, there’s no one I admire more.

-

March 1st - Congrats to the grads. 

As I watch my students graduate, I wonder what kind of lives they’ll lead. I silently pray they live with happiness and wonder as they embark into the most frightening and exhilarating time of their lives.

-

March 21st - Safe travels my heart. 

He blows me a kiss before vanishing from my sight, his red eyes and wet cheeks matching my own. I feel as if I just sent my heart on a journey half way across the world. I’m already counting down the minutes until he returns to my arms. 

-

April 6th - HBD.

I celebrate my 31st birthday with some close friends. 10 years previous I cried, afraid of when my youth would end. But I realized this year, surrounded by so much love and laughter - youthfulness is an attitude, an aura. One that I’ll embody forever. 

-

May 21st - Grief isn’t linear. 

Soft tears fall as I grieve for my former life. The physical closeness to my family and my friends. The convenience of grocery shopping and scheduling doctor’s appointments. The financial security I so clearly took for granted. It’s surprising how homesickness can strike even two years later. 

-

June 15th - Childlessness.

The pain emanating between my hips is so immense I double over. But I remind myself that this price is worth paying to prevent creating a child I’m not ready for. As I lay in bed, I allow myself to fantasize about becoming a mother. And for the first time in my life, the idea of it doesn’t scare me but fills me with joy.