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cksmart-world · 2 years ago

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SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

July 11, 2023

RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION — ONE SCOOP OR TWO

Alright, that does it. Utah Sen-For-Life Mike Lee will never, ever eat Ben & Jerry's ice cream again. It's unpatriotic and totally sucks. That's what Lee said after Ben & Jerry tweeted on the Fourth of July: “The U.S. was founded on stolen Indigenous land. This year, let’s commit to returning it.” The pair called on readers to support the “Land Back movement” to restore once Native American land to its original owners. Well then, that does it. Goodbye Chunky Monkey, Karamel Sutra and Cherry Garcia. They will never cross the lips of Mike “I've-Got-An-Ice-Cream-Jones” Lee. He even called Ben and Jerry “smug and lippy.” What do they want? Lee demanded. “Expungement of property rights? OMG! Repatriation of most Americans to Europe?” WTF! Ben & Jerry want the movement to start with Mount Rushmore, the Lakota Sioux’s holy mountain Tunkasila Sakpe before the faces of U.S. presidents were carved on it. The Black Hills were among 3.5 million acres set aside as a permanent home for the Lakota, but those treaties were broken when gold prospectors and settlers flooded in. That matters little to Lee, the great patriot and ice cream connoisseur who The Washington Post said, “worked furiously to overturn the 2020 election...” Righteous indignation and hypocrisy — would that be one scoop or two?

END DAYS AND “BAT FRIENDLY” TEQUILA

No Wilson, this is not some Hunter Thompson-esque ditty about a strange trip to a Donald Trump rally — although it could be. This is important news: The lesser long nose bat, aka Leptonycteris yerbabuenae, is the only pollinator of agave cactus, which bears the fruit that is used to make tequila. So it's important that when folks go to the liquor store they buy only tequila that carries the “Bat Friendly” label. No lesser long nose bats, no tequila. And no Wilson, the worm, which is actually the agave snout weevile, is not part of the distillation process but is added as a natural preservative that may boost the effects of alcohol. That brings us back to End Days and Trump's 14 promises when elected president. Here are the highlights: bomb drug cartels; put parents in charge of schools; stop the chemical castration and sexual mutilation of our youth; develop vertical-takeoff-and-landing vehicles for families; ban the use of taxpayer dollars to label speech as mis- or disinformation; end Biden's tax hikes and inflation; fire the unelected bureaucrats who have weaponized the justice system. And that brings us 'round to tequila again, because if Trump returns to power we're going to need a lot of it. The way things are looking, we're going to need a lot of it either way.

RACISM ISN'T ALL THAT BAD, EXCEPT FOR WHITE PEOPLE

As everyone knows, white people are the real victims of racism — it makes white kids feel bad. Just imagine, you're a white kid in public school and the teacher starts in on slavery and Jim Crow and the Ku Klux Klan. Total bummer. How are they supposed to enjoy hacky sack after that. Teaching school kids about racism is perfectly fine, said Republican Ryan Walters, the Oklahoma school superintendent, as long as no one is “made to feel bad.” Problem solved. According to researchers at UCLA and UC San Diego, some 17.7 million public school students from 2020-'21 had their learning restricted on race, racism and gender. Totally chill. We can't have teachers turning our kids into Marxists who think everyone is equal. Thirty six state legislatures, including Utah, sought to ban teaching of critical race theory (how inequality and systemic racism impact American society). That stuff, whatever it is, could make white people feel bad, according to conservative lawmakers. And if you're worried about that white privilege B.S., just look at affirmative action. Meanwhile, Democrats harp on healthcare, wealth inequality and global warming in a naked attempt to change the subject. But don't forget the GOP is the Party of Lincoln and the party of Clarence Thomas. 'Nuff said.

Post script — That's a wrap for another sizzling week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of the heat so you don't have to. Mother Earth is hotter than she's been for 125,000 years. But don't tell that to conservative Republicans or MAGAtts, you'll get death threats. But it's not just the crazies. Red States, including Utah, are refusing to invest taxpayer dollars in green energy or entities that conclude global warming is brought on by burning fossil fuels. Great — cutting off our environmental nose to spite our global face. Many on the right don't believe in climate change, said Penn State's Michael Mann, because wealthy fossil fuel interests, the Koch brothers in particular, “have spent tens if not hundreds of millions of dollars poisoning our public discourse over climate change...” But there is this: More home runs are hit when it's hot. For every 1 degree Celsius (1.8 degree Fahrenheit) increase in temperature, the number of home runs in a game increases by 1.96 percent, according to a study published in the Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society.The study found that more than 500 home runs since 2010 can be linked to climate warming. Proof positive that whether Mike Lee boycotts Ben & Jerry's or not, we're all going to have to eat ice cream a lot faster.

Hey Wilson, have you ever tried to eat an ice cream cone at 95 degrees. You gotta be real quick with the lick, so quick, in fact, that you could get one of those ice-cream headaches. That's when you freeze the superficial ophthalmic branch of the Trigeminal Nerve. Look it up, well, never mind. Tell the band to put down the Cherry Garcia and take us out of the hot city:

Hot town, summer in the city Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty Been down, isn't it a pity? Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city All around, people looking half dead Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head But at night it's a different world Go out and find a girl Come on, come on and dance all night Despite the heat it'll be all right And babe, don't you know it's a pity That the days can't be like the nights In the summer, in the city In the summer, in the city

Cool town, evening in the city Dressing so fine and looking so pretty Cool cat, looking for a kitty Gonna look in every corner of the city Till I'm wheezing like a bus stop Running up the stairs, gonna meet you on the rooftop At night it's a different world Go out and find a girl Come on, come on and dance all night Despite the heat it'll be all right And babe, don't you know it's a pity That the days can't be like the nights In the summer, in the city In the summer, in the city

(Summer In The City — Lovin' Spoonful)

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uboat53 · 1 year ago

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So, I'm a college professor (astronomy) and I'm going to ask you the same thing I would ask one of my students if they told me something like that:

Why are you in college?

I'm being dead serious here. Not everyone needs to go to college. I know there's a lot of people out there saying that you have to, but you don't. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that most people don't need to go to college. Don't get me wrong, the average college graduate has a much higher salary and much lower unemployment rate than the average person without, but a ton of this is due to the fact that college, at its best, forces you to think about what you want to do.

Whether or not you should go to college depends entirely on what you want to do. I, for example, wanted to build spaceships and teach at the college/university level and they don't let you do either of those things without a degree, preferably an advanced one. College also works well for me, I've never felt as perfectly at home as I have on a college campus.

I have friends and family, however, who absolutely hated classroom learning and sitting still. One family member, for example, loves to work with his hands, so he went to trade school and became a welder. If what you want to do isn't something that college will help you do, then you don't need to go to college.

Now, if you sit down, think about what you want to do, and determine that you absolutely have to have a college degree to do it, then it's time to look at the college itself. Not all colleges are created equal and even, within the same college, not all programs are created equal.

I went to a university that had engineering and agriculture programs that was top 10 in the country, but that definitely wasn't true of the business or history programs. Within the California State University and community college systems (what I'm most familiar with), the quality of both schools and universities varies widely to an absurd degree.

And even when the quality of the program isn't the issue, the personality of the college can make a huge difference. Chico State and UC Santa Barbara, for example, are well-known party schools in California, and there are people who thrive in that environment. But if you're not the type of person who's going to do well at a party school, it doesn't matter how good the program is, you shouldn't go there.

Now, I don't know where you're going, what you're studying, or what, exactly, you want to do in life, but these are the kinds of questions I would encourage any college student or anyone thinking about becoming a college student to ask.

Too often people just go to college because "that's what you're supposed to do", but that kind of thinking too often leads to disappointment and unnecessary debt. (I'm being dead serious here, too, college graduates are usually fine even in poorly paid majors; it's the people who go to college and don't get the degree who overwhelmingly struggle with the debt they accrue.)

So, the three questions you need to ask are:

What do you want to do in life?

Do you need to go to college to do it?

(If "yes" to #2) Are you at the right college for you?

If you can't answer "yes" to the second two questions, it's probably time to make a change. If the answer to the second question is "no", then it's time to figure out what you do need to do what you want, and if the answer to question 2 is "yes" but the answer to question 3 is "no", then it's time to figure out where it is you do need to go.

None of this is something you have to do alone either. Most colleges/universities have counselors who can help with this. If you don't trust them, there are other people around, even online, who can help. Heck, I'm willing to do so if you or anyone else needs. Not sure I'll be great, but I'm willing to try.

Most importantly, though, don't put too much pressure on yourself. It may seem as if people your age have already figured things out and it can be frustrating that you haven't, but those people just got lucky, it's not because they're any better than anyone else and there are more people still struggling than anyone is willing to admit. Your teens and twenties are a hard enough time without adding the stress of trying to stick too hard to something that isn't working for you.

Anyways, I'm probably rambling a bit, but I hope I've at least provided something useful and good luck. I can't promise it will get better or easier, but it does tend to. Hopefully one day you'll look back on this with hindsight and see a hard time that eventually led you to where you wanted to be.

seriously considering dropping out of college...again

#academia #education #higher education

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escapismqueen · 2 years ago

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Chenford + miscommunication/angst speculation for the next ep?

Hi, thank you so much for your request, I hope this is okay ❤️I’ve had a few requests for a 5x19 spec fic so hopefully you all like it 🥰

A Chenford speculation fic- 5x19- ‘I don’t know’

Incl: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mostly angst though.

Warnings: allusions/ representation of a panic attack, mentions of needles and drugs.

The words had been ringing in Tim and Lucys ears since they were first uttered that Morning. “Guess we’ll have to get used to seeing less of each other”. He’d been regretting saying anything about it the moment he opened his mouth; he meant it light heartedly when he said it, but Lucy’s sudden drop in expression and worry glazed eyes hammered home the reality- they would be seeing each other less.

So far, their relationship hasn’t experienced any significant bumps or obstacles, they’ve been ridiculously happy in their new relationship bliss, and nothing as of yet had gotten in the way of that. Until now; and it had sent them both in a spiral.

Tim opened the door to Lucy’s apartment with haste. It’s been a rough day at work for him today; the sounds of their morning conversation reverberating in his mind, not helped by the fact he hasn’t seen her since. The fact that they’d be seeing each other less was of course stirring an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, but the nausea- that came from Lucy’s mention of ‘narcotics’. He hated that word; hated everything about it. Narcotics reminded him of everything that pulled his life apart; his dad and Isobel being the forefront. But when it came to work and narcotics; it came in thunderous force to Isobel.

He’d been feeling his chest tighten all day, his heart clenching so hard that he started to worry about his health- an area in which he knew from a recent checkup was all good. So what the hell was the feeling ? As he pushed the door open, a thick, stuffy warmth took over his skin- it reminded him of the night Isobel left him. That feeling- it was coming back. His chest got tighter, his vision blurring from not only a wall of tears but from a dizziness that was now whirring around his system at an alarming rate. But then he registered Lucy. The sweet melodic sound of her voice, the smell of her coconut shampoo, and her mango scented perfume delightfully greeting him as he stepped into the room.

“Tim?” The sound of her voice snapped him out of his fog, his heartbeat steadying the second he looked at her. The blurriness slowly disappearing from his vision, allowing him to see the beauty that is his girlfriend. “Hey, you okay?” Lucys brows furrow in concern, her hands following suit and cupping his cheeks in a reassuring hold. “I’m fine. But are you ? You look a little shaken.” Tim ponders for a moment on wether he should open up to her about this. They spoke about it briefly this morning, but it ended with Tim reassuring her that ‘it’ll be okay’ how was he supposed to tell her later that same day that he wasn’t?

It’s not that he didn’t want Lucy to work in the narcotics division or go undercover- he knows she’d be great at it. But he couldn’t help but have deja vu by the mere suggestion of it. This is how it started with Isobel. The excitement about the opportunity, the anxiety over the test, the smile she had when she talked about anything ‘UC’ related. But then it was late nights, weeks or months without talking that turned into no talking or coming home at all. She left him. She got hooked on the things she was so passionate to get rid of, and got rid of him instead; the one thing she swore she’d always be passionate about. But he couldn’t dangle this insecurity in front of Lucy could he ? She deserves to make the decision herself and not sacrifice anything in hopes that it’ll make him feel better. No. He’s not saying anything.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just been a long day and I have a bit of a headache that’s all.” The lie flew off his tongue like an eagle chasing its prey; smooth and sharp with no hesitation. He felt guilty as soon as he spoke, but he knew he had to do it for her sake. Tim Bradford is a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them. Tim sighs in relief at her nodding head, glad she didn’t question him further; he could struggle through a lie to her once, but twice ? Not happening. “Okay babe, as long as you’re sure. Go lie down, I’ll bring you some Advil.” And with a quick loving kiss to his warm lips, she darted into the kitchen and left Tim’s Heart aching even more- he can not lose her.

Later in the evening, Tim and Lucy snuggled up closely to each other, legs tangling perfectly into each others. They’d both been asleep for a few hours, happy to nod off in the others arms whilst they still could. Tim’s arms were placed protectively around Lucy’s waist, his face nestled sweetly in her neck; it was their usual sleeping state, one that Lucy liked to playfully tease him for, stating that he ‘couldn’t bear’ to be without her even in his dreams. But the more he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, the more she knew that she never wanted to sleep another way again. The scruff on his chin would always tickle her and sometimes wake her up, and she often gets very hot from his own body heat being so close to hers, but the first day she had to sleep without him, she’d never been so unsatisfied with such fresh, cold sheets and an unbothered night of rest.

As per usual, Lucy woke in the middle of the night, her body anticipating the scratch of Tim’s beard scruff. But as she turns to her side to give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek, she notices his eyebrows scrunched together, and a thin layer of sweat coating his skin. “Tim?” She reaches her arm out delicately over to him, not wanting to startle him, but hoping that he’ll wake up. Her voice wobbles as she says his name again, her worry this time heightened by the small whimper that escapes his throat- he’s having a nightmare.

The images flash overwhelmingly quick in Tim’s head. The empty house he came home to when Isobel left him, the needles he found stashed away under their bed, her sunken eyes and her frail body laying in the dumpster, blood exiting her and paling her more. Then her face changed and the images got clearer, the words got louder ‘your wife has been arrested’ ‘your wife is in the hospital’ ‘your wife has overdosed’. Everything awful he’d ever heard about her was now repeating cruelly in his slumber, but her face was no longer a part of the images; now it was Lucy’s.

The images piled on top of each other like wooden blocks, each one making the tower weaker and more likely to fall. Tim’s chest began to feel tight again, his breathing now altered and shaky. He heard Lucy’s voice call him over and over again, begging, pleading, but he couldn’t get out. He was trapped there, trapped in the depiction of her close to death or abandoning him at their home. He heard her screams, he saw her being shot, he saw her placing needles in her veins with a far away look in her eyes. Why couldn’t he stop her ? “Lucy !” “Lucy, stop, Lucy !!” His chest was heaving, his hands were clenching, and all he could feel was a fire-like heat rushing through his body, but he was unable to scream.

Lucy looks at Tim in the bed with tears streaming down her face. He looks so vulnerable and afraid. The sweat on his body glistened in the moonlight, but their was nothing beautiful about it. His face was reddening by the second, his breaths were quick and scattered, his body was twisting and turning in shock, and he’d shouted her name several times in desperation; this was a Tim Bradford she’d never seen before, and the sight of it broke her heart. “Tim ! Wake up! It’s okay, it’s just a dream, you’re okay, wake up, cmon”. She pleads.

At his lack of response, she reaches her arms out and shakes his shoulders fiercely, her anxiety no longer contained. “Tim, WAKE UP”. At the sound of her raised voice, Tim’s eyes shoot open, his body following within seconds. His eyes waste no time in scrambling for Lucy; was she okay ? Was she with him ?. Her hands cupping his cheeks answered his question, and within a second, he was wrapped tightly in his girlfriends embrace. He freezes for a moment, slowly readjusting back to reality and telling himself that everything was okay. He looks at her with desperation I’m his eyes and falls into her completely, a sob racking his chest at the first touch from her. “Lucy, don’t leave. Please don’t leave me. You have to stay, please. I cant’t handle losing you. I know I’ve handled losing people before, but it’s never been you and now it is. You can’t leave. Please.”

Her head shoots up from Tim’s shoulder in shock, his words sinking her heart to her stomach. He’d just had a panic attack in his sleep and now she knew what it was about- her. She hadn’t realised until this moment just how much their conversation from the morning had worried him. He reassured her, because she was the worried one, but now he was collapsed in her arms, sobs eliciting from his throat, voice begging her not to leave him. What the hell happened ?

“What ? Tim, I’m not going to leave you. Why would you think that ? I’d never leave you, I love you.” An uncomfortable silence hovered in the air, the only sounds heard being Tim’s laboured breathing and the sound of Lucy’s hands caressing up and down his back. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Tim lifts his head and looks her deeply in the eyes, his tears resurfacing. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, and says the words that have been circling his mind the whole day “She loved me too.”

The words cut through Lucy like a knife, not having to ask to know who ‘she’ was. In this moment, she hated herself for wanting to go UC. The sight of her boyfriend vulnerable and broken; driven to nightmares because of his past, worrying that the same will also happen in his future- it was one hard pill to swallow.

“I’m sorry”

Lucy looks at him with an empathetic gaze, her eyelids blinking slowly, her arms wrapping sturdily around Tim’s chest. “Tim, you don’t have to be sorry. Your feelings are valid. I’m sorry that this is causing you so much pain. And I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier.” She mentally curses herself for missing the signs.

Tim leans his head forward and brushes his nose lightly against Lucy’s, glad that his breathing has now calmed and he can hold on to her a little tighter. “Luce. Whatever you do, please don’t make your decision based upon what just happened. Please. I know you’ll want to, to protect me, but as a person who loves you, I can’t- I can’t be the reason that you don’t pursue something that you want to.”

An eerie silence floods the air, the possibilities of what come next knocking rapidly at their chests. “Tim?” Lucy questions, her mind already running a mile a minute. “Yeah?”

“What’re we gonna do ?” The distress in her voice pushes Tim to place his hands at her waist and under her shirt, his fingers settling comfortably on her bare skin. He looks at her for a moment and sends her a weak smile, both of them knowing that this will not be a simple situation to figure out. He lies down back onto his pillow, pulling her gently towards him, his head finding it’s home back into her neck, nose inhaling her mango scented aroma.

As their hands intertwine, they both try to think of an answer, The strengthening of their interlaced hands giving away what their voices aren’t yet willing to say.

“I don’t know sweetheart, I really don’t know.”

#chenford #therookie #therookiechenford #timbradford #lucychen #tim x lucy #the rookie fanfic #chenford fanfiction #chenford fanfic #speculation fic #the rookie speculation

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fostersffff · 3 years ago

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The Witch from Mercury PROLOGUE definitely did its job for me.

Setting established: a council of megacorporations have absolute control of the development of mobile suits, which makes them the de facto power behind any government, whether “Earthian” or “Spacian”. They fear and attempt to stomp out the Earth’s Ochs Corporation, who are developing Gundams, a new type of mobile suit that incorporates GUND medical prothetic technology they bought out. Originally conceived to help people survive more easily in space with superior prosthetics, Ochs scaled up the GUND technology to create what is, for all intents and purposes, a hybrid of the NT-D from Unicorn and the Mobile Trace System from G Gundam. The trade-off is that scaling it up so much creates an intense strain on the pilot, and at certain levels can even kill them. Despite providing a definitive edge to Gundams over standard mobile suits, the other megacorporations have already come up with methods to neutralize GUND technology, leading to the events of the prologue.

(the doctor’s phrasing here might turn out to have an alternate meaning, but I interpret it as “if we can prove the viability of GUND technology for military purposes, we’ll get the funding we need to continue developing it as medical technology as well”)

The mobile suits also all look great! Something I’ve been noting down a lot while watching Gundam Wing is that I kind of hate how the Gundams of the After Colony timeline look nothing like other mobile suits in the setting. It makes sense in UC, where you (originally) have two completely unrelated manufacturers taking a spin at designing giant combat robots. The Tallgeese, Mercurius, Vayeate, and OZ grunt suits all look like they belong to the same family tree- because they do- but then the Gundams, which are all said to be based on the Tallgeese, look nothing like it or anything else in the setting. Here, it would actually make sense if the Gundams looked like a UC design, because those differences could be chalked up to different manufacturers, but instead, all the mobile suits have a sleek sensibility to them with some distinctions between them, which also makes sense since the corporations responsible for MS development are colluding with one another to some degree.

Last but not least, the actual story is simple and very well executed. Without getting into proper content spoilers, and it sets up our protagonist, her backstory, possible motivations, and leaves off on a cliffhanger that has me very excited to see more come October.

#Gundam #Mobile Suit Gundam #The Witch from Mercury #G Witch #anime

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lunaevangeline · 3 years ago

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Okay, this is random but on my latest fic, I mentioned about how lovers' heartbeats can turn in sync. I had known about it before but I wasn't sure whether it's scientifically accurate or not. So yesterday when I was writing that line, I did a quick search and found out that they really have a paper about it!!

It's quite an old paper by Ferrer, E. & Helm, J.L. (2012). And here's a graph that shows the heart rates of a man and woman are in sync if they're involved in a romantic relationship.

Honestly I didn't read the full paper and this graph is actually a bit complicated (using deferential equation modeling). But I found an easy explanation from nature journal :

This couple (referring the graph) was one of the 32 heterosexual couples in a study conducted by physiologies at UC Davis in the US that aimed to see if people in romantic relationships co-regulated their physiologies with their partners. By co-regulated, read change; by physiologies, read heart rates.

In one of the experiments, the couples sat facing each other but just far enough that they would not be able to touch. The researchers asked them to simply stare at one another for three minutes straight in as calm a manner as possible (ahem) while they monitored the couple's heart rates.

The graph above does not actually show the heart rates of the man and woman changing with time. Instead it shows a complex measure of heart rate which takes into consideration the observed changes in heart rate due to the individual self-regulating, that is trying to control himself or herself by keeping calm for instance, as well as the changes associated with the individual as he or she unconsciously mimics the partner, known as co-regulation. Since the extent of both self-regulation and co-regulation is different in men and women, this measure allows for comparison between the two. In the above graph, the measure is actually shown by a blue line.

But the blue line is so closely matched by a red line that you barely see it. What does the red line indicate? It indicates the changes one would expect to see if the couple's heart rates are the same. Therefore the more closely the blue and red lines match, the closer an individual's heart rate is to the partner's. It is no surprise then that when the researchers compared the measure of heart rates between people not involved in a romantic relationship, the blue and red lines did not match.

The researchers also found that it was the women who tended to adjust their heart rates to their partners. Why this actually happens on a psychological level however is still a mystery. The researchers speculate that women have a strong link to their partners may have something to do with them having more empathy.

The study does have some limitations, which the researchers readily acknowledge. For instance, the study only looked at 32 couples which is a small sample. It also only looked at heterosexual couples. But regardless, it does at least give some evidence that we match our physiologies without even knowing to that special someone's.

And inspired from this study, here's a great line which may do wonders today of all days: "I love you so much that my heart beats as fast as yours whenever I see you."

References:

Dynamical Systems Modeling of Physiological Coregulation in Dyadic Interactions

Lovers' Hearts Beat at the Same Rate Everyday

#sorry I think this is cute #so I just want to share hehe #luna rambles about science #okay I made a new tag <3

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female-malice · 2 years ago

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One of my biggest fears is the capture of key sciences such as ecology or chemistry by postmodernism. We've seen it happening with medicine. Survival of the biosphere would be much slimmer if we can't categorize deleterious exotics from native species. By the sounds of your newer posts it seems to be happening already. Are things that bad in the US?

Yes, it's starting.

A certain degree of internal criticism is healthy in any field of science. I think the argument against the current species taxonomy system is interesting. That argument criticizes the anthropocentric worldview of Carl Linnaeus. So it does ultimately help the field. But this argument could get out of hand if postmodernists co-opt it and go "don't say species!" That would get tiring. But that hasn't happened yet. For now, the point of the argument is to examine how Linnaeus's dominionism shaped biology perspectives.

But then there's Banu Subramaniam's Aliens essay and the EEB Language Project. Both have the potential to set disastrous precedents in Earth science.

It's interesting to look at the schools involved in EEB Language Project...

UC Berkeley – post-modernism think tank Harvard – conservative neoliberal capitalism think tank Princeton – liberal neoliberal capitalism think tank UC Davis – biggest agricultural university in the country and home to the CLEAR beef and dairy greenwashing project Stanford – great at protecting campus rapists

There's other schools involved but those five stood out to me.

Earth science is interesting because geography is important. There's good Earth science programs in every public university because there's always something of local interest to study. The best program at my tiny state school was the ecology program. That seems to be a common theme at a lot of small state schools. People deride these schools by calling them "party schools." But when you look at a lot of top ecologists, they spent their entire careers at "party schools"

Big names like Harvard, Princeton, and Stanford don't actually give you extra credibility in the Earth science world.

So there's a class dynamic here. You don't need to pay an arm and a leg to access the top Earth science programs. But now, through EEBLP, "prestigious" schools are talking down to the "party" schools. They're basically saying "you working class scientists are so uncultured and problematic!"

Luckily, Earth scientists have been tangoing with corporate capture and greenwashing for decades. They know what bullshit looks and smells like.

And this is still the face of botanical popular science:

youtube

So postmodernists have their work cut out for them lmao

#cc

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milenasolis · 2 years ago

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❝ ...it had counted after all, every evasion and every procrastination, every mistake, every word, all of it. ❞

Age: 30

Gender identification: Cis female, she/her

Residential area: Glenn Estates

Occupation: Owner of The Mayfair

Gang Affiliation: The Enterprise

Two positive traits: Venturesome & resourceful

Two negative traits: Hedonistic & dreamer

Length of time in Tonopah Valley: 25 years (arrived in Tonopah Valley around 1 year old and spent 4 years in NYC for university)

Faceclaim: Priscilla Quintana

stacks of books everywhere, empty coke cans abandoned on tables and shelves, vintage rock band t-shirts, framed movie posters decorating the walls, an ever tempting crumpled pack of marlboros on the bookshelf, 2am cups of coffee, fitted jeans, scattered meaningful fine line tattoos, paragraph texts in the middle of the night

trigger warnings: death, adoption, drugs, alcohol, depression

A life where everything came on a silver platter was far from what Milena Solis’ mother could have hoped for when it had come to her children. Life for her had been a struggle in her homeland of Mexico; poverty, dwindling family for support, and lack of options set the woman on a mission for something better. Especially when she found out she was pregnant, and with twins no less. A friend of a friend had spoken of a job opportunity in the United States, if she could get to Nevada then she’d have the means to care for her coming children. What she hadn’t expected was how grueling the journey was and how much it would take out of her. Not much is known about Milena’s mother and the family she’d come from, just that she’d passed away not long after childbirth. There were complications and in the long run she had been too weak to overcome them.

The twins were fairly young when they were adopted. So young in fact that Milena has no recollection of any life before Nevada and Diego and Dale Mejia. With origins unknown to the State of Nevada, the twins went into the system and won the lottery when the very wealthy Diego Mejia chose them.

Growing up in Glenn Estates, Tonopah Valley, Nevada she was surrounded by family. Close bonds and an acceptance of differences. Never once had Milena been made to feel like she didn’t belong, as though she wasn’t real family because she didn’t share actual DNA. In fact, Milena, often called Mila or Lena, was groomed from the time she started schooling to eventually take part in the family business. As she got into her teens she would learn and understand that Mejia Morales Homes was more corporation and industry than a simple family passion project. At times it was overwhelming; the pressure to perform well in school, to be apart of certain social circles and noteworthy clubs, and achieving wins in sports all to support the family business. An understanding had been laid on her from the very start that she was to be a piece of the pie, as with all the other siblings in the mixed family.

In youth Milena took much for granted with her older sister shouldering the expectations of their parents and leading the way. She’d set a great example and Milena had always looked up to her sister, in many ways finding that she wanted to be a lot like her. Or at least have her approval. Where she saw her sister doing what was expected and take the path set out for her, Milena began to discover that she wanted something very different for her life. Real estate and flipping houses was far from a passion for her. She was obsessed with films, everything from classics to horror to indie and foreign, and knew that she wanted some sort of life and career involved in that industry. The big dream Milena quietly cultivated was to be a filmmaker of some sort, with arthouse and indie genres being her biggest interest.

When university approached talking about film school went nowhere. Instead she was steered away from schools like UCLA and NYU and more encouraged to find a path like her sister’s. UC Berkeley was pushed on Milena, or any top university with a great business or architecture program. In the end she agreed to go to business school at NYU and left Nevada for four years to pursue her degree, yet was encouraged to come home and work for the family business and her Master’s simultaneously upon completion of her Bachelor’s. New York had been a culture shock but one she loved to the fullest. Life and the people were so different in the melting pot city. Milena found herself in creative circles, going to open mic nights and slam poetry, nightclubs and a party scene, and for the first time in her life really let loose.

Returning to Tonopah Valley had been tough after New York. Family of course always won over, she’d do anything (or just about) for them, and the call to obligation rang. She worked real estate, selling homes and brokering deals, completely dispassioned while she did so. It made the family happy though and who was she to deny that? Except when her sister nearly died during an operation to hand over a kidney to their brother and thus had an epiphany, her departure had left Milena to pick up all that she’d left behind. It became overwhelming and while she understood her sister’s need it turned her a little bitter, because that had been what she wanted and now she’d become so tied to the family business.

It spawned a rebellion. Melina found her way into partying, much heavier than anything she did in New York as this was all about escape. Drugs and excess drinking numbed the regret and longing but made her miss time. Either she was coming in late, hungover or strung out, or Milena would be passed out on her couch all day. Only to rise when it was time to go out burn off the weight of fealty and expectations. It didn’t help that Milena and her twin had begun looking into their origins around this time too, the results only further plunging her into her depression and hedonism.

Eventually an intervention righted the world, turned what had flipped upside down to something she could firmly plant her feet on once more. Only this time Milena found she had room to bargain, she would return to the family business on a more part time status and clean herself up if her father’s, Diego and Dale, signed over The Mayfair to her. If she was to be ensnared in the family business then a lot more respect had to be given. Not only did Milena possess a shiny, prestigious degree from a top university but she had the savvy to do more than broker real estate deals. The last thing she wanted was to go through each day feeling like she was living life as some robot, arguing that the business of real estate, as grand as their success had been, just wasn’t for her. Thankfully an agreement was made and it had become Milena’s saving grace.

With a powerful name and grand success in the world of real estate, The Enterprise had sought out Milena when she took over The Mayfair, and following the vetting process she found herself a board member and with more power at her fingertips than a once orphan had ever thought possible. Milena’s feelings about the divided lines in town are troubled; she can understand the need for balance and order, knows the feeling of power at her fingertips, yet feels strange intrigue to those who’s roots trace back to the same country as where she’d been brought into the world. Nevertheless, the goal is to make her family proud and to solidify their legacy. If only secrets and temptations can keep her from swaying…

Quite the film enthusiast, Milena has plans for a new theater in town. She has a dream of a place that can house both stage and screen audiences.

While Milena and her twin are seeking out who their mother was and her story, doing what they can to discover their origins, they are going to inadvertently find out who their father was and that he has loose ties to the cartel.

She has an irrational love for deep dish pizza.

Something of a car enthusiast, Milena has a small collection of vehicles with her favorite being anything classic and/or muscle variety.

Somehow she’s turned it into an art: seeing how far people will go to bribe or gain any kind of favor from her. Milena is actually friendly, fun, flirty, and easy to get along with but she has no problem saying no and walking away after stringing someone along.

#tv.intros #introduction.#character study.

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

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UC Sunnyhell: Part one

Welcome to Sunnyhell! ☀

Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Series idea: College AU where Spike is the campus bad boy who secretly is a softie that writes poems and reader is the new transfer who just moved into Spike's apartment since it was the only available room on campus (no one wants to willingly live with Spike). Spike constantly having one night stands over, reader always trying to study. The Scoobies take reader under their wing but warn her about Spike's reputation. Slow burn enemies to friends to lovers?

Originally requested by: @sunflower-stan

Warning: sex references. Swearing.

A/N: This is a college au !! There was a second part to this request but I didn’t have space to include it (just know I am using your ideas for the roles people would have on campus). This is part one of eight !!!!!! 🖤💜

You had been nervous for starting college. You weren’t even sure you wanted to move away from your hometown until the last second. This is why you ended up losing out on anywhere you could live on-campus. You were instead directed here.

To a little shared house just on the outskirts of the college. You had all of your stuff packed up and waiting to be moved in and you were just staring at the house. This would be your new home for the rest of the year. Your stomach flipped, a mix of nerves and excitement.

You were naturally more bookish. You enjoyed the theatre and musicals. Literature. Now, if you were honest upon looking back, a little sheltered. You were hoping this might change and that you could start fresh now that you were staring college. There were so many experiences and people that you were sure you would enjoy meeting.

You tentatively knocked on the door. You had packed up your little car and driven to UC Sunnydale the day before your course would start. You were assured that your roommate had your key and would tell you all about your new house.

You waited for a while before knocking again, a little louder. The door swung open almost immediately this time and you stepped back at the force of it.

A woman opened the door she was blonde and had rosy cheeks. Her skin was pale and she had plump, full lips. But you didn’t notice any of that. Because she had opened the door to you half naked. She stared at you as if to hurry you up. Cursing you with every breath you took.

As you managed to form words again, you began to ask.

“Oh... a-are you... Will-?”

“Do I fucking look like my name’s William?” She asked before shouting over her shoulder, “Spike one of your sluts is at the door!” her face was sullen as she grabbed up all of her stuff, slipped on some leggings and what you had thought was a bra as she pushed past you. Your eyes widened at her tone and you stepped out of her way less she body-slammed you in that direction anyway.

Your first impression of Spike was what one might call, a bad one. For one, you weren’t accustomed to meeting anyone for the first time fully naked.

He just raised an eyebrow as you stared open-mouthed “oh, right” he muttered, turning away slightly.

He wasn’t even embarrassed, his unlit cigarette hanging from his lip as he opened a draw and grabbed your key. He moved and handed it to you and you took it.

“Thanks” you squeaked, trying your best to act as if this was normal. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes trained to his face. He smirked, knowing exactly what you were trying not to look at. He sized you up for a moment, scanning his eyes over your body before shrugging and looking back up to your eyes and launching into his more formal greeting.

“Rules: don’t bloody touch any of my shit. Don’t start making me clean up, there’s a system oh, and please don’t start thinking we’re gonna braid each other’s hair and paint our nails - I didn’t want a bleeding roommate in the first place” He warned, pointing for emphasis. This gave you a flash of his already painted nails.

He rattled off a few more rules, as he lit up his cigarette. Rules such as don’t talk to him Monday through Friday, don’t speak to the people he brought back to the house ever and definitely don’t complain if you can smell alcohol and cigarettes.

“You’ve been warned. Right, your rooms the crap one on the left” he shrugged his head, before slamming the door to what was apparently his room as he spoke (to put some clothes on, you presumed). You started to walk towards the room he had pointed out, a little shell-shocked.

But you had barely stepped in when he opened his door again and popped his head out of the door, “Welcome to Sunnyhell!” He announced before slamming the door shut once more.

You moved everything into your room, you spent time making your room feel more like home. You spent a long time making it look cosy and yours.

To begin with, you and spike mostly kept out of each other’s way. You weren’t used to people being so blunt or hostile right off the bat. Still, you tried your best to be nice to him on the rare occasion that you did pass each other in the hall.

Your first day of classes had you feeling the way you always did. Lost. Both metaphorically and unfortunately you were also genuinely lost. You had taken a turn and you didn’t know where to go next. You checked your map but it didn’t make any sense.

You were just going to walk in a random direction until a kind voice spoke to you.

“Hey, you’re lost right?”

“Big time” You smiled sheepishly, noticing only now that your map was upside down. The blonde girl introduced herself as Buffy and seemed to take an instant like to you. She could tell you were a little out of your depth and it showed on your face as much as she had felt it inside on her first day.

You both started walking in the vague direction of the campus. She asked you what class you had and what room and she was determined to help you find it. You kept thanking her almost every other step for her kindness. But she just shook her head, showing that you had no reason to. She wanted to.

You got to know her and she asked about you. She explained that she and her friend Cordy were part of a sorority and that her and her friends had found it hard when they started college last year. As you rounded the corner and Buffy saw the room you had been looking for, she became slightly side-tracked. She saw one of her best friends.

You smiled at Buffy. You liked her, she seemed really friendly. She appears to be really popular too, she stops every other step to speak to someone.

“Oh, Will! Hey!” Buffy raised her hand as she did her voice to catch the redhead’s attention, “Y/n, this is the resident genius and science club president!”

The girl, Willow, was wearing lab coat and smiling sweetly at you. Her aesthetic and Buffy’s didn’t really match so after greeting the new girl, you had to ask.

“And you two are friends?” You ask a little confused. You were still used to how cliquey high school had been so seeing lots of different people mixing and being friends was strange. But, you decided you really liked it.

“Best friends”

“Yeah! We all sit together at lunch and just hang. Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh, well-”

“Great, we meet at the canteen at one!” Buffy called, linking arms with Willow and leaving you at the door of the lecture room you needed.

You entered your class, trying your best not to feel so overwhelmed. You actually really enjoyed it and just hoped that this would continue through the rest of the year.

After class was over, you tried to familiarise yourself with the campus again. Looking at different stalls that had been set up for the new arrivals advertising clubs.

You felt a little out of place and so sort of stayed to the side lines, not really interacting with many of the students. You hung around by the noticeboard and something caught your eye. A bright pink flier. You took it down, staring at it.

It read ‘Open mic night – held by the Poetry society and the theatre club’ You folded the flier and stuffed it into your pocket with a little smile. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so left out here after all.

You looked up from your feet as you needed to try and find your next class. As you did, you managed to directly catch someone’s eye. Spike’s. You lifted your hand to awkwardly wave at him and give him a little smile at him but he just glared at your action and ignored you completely.

You watched lamely as he just stalked away. That stupid leather jacket of his whipping around his heels. Everyone moved out of his way they all scattered as he just walks wherever he likes.

You sigh, extremely embarrassed at the way he had blanked you. You shove the hand that had still been slightly raised into your pockets as you walked away towards your next class.

Eventually lunch came and you decided that you could go to the canteen. You stood awkwardly on the side looking around for a face that you recognised in the sea of bodies.

As soon as Buffy saw you, she called you over immediately and began to introduce you to her group of friends. It was quite the mix of people. You learned a lot in a short space of time.

There was Xander, he was on a basketball scholarship. Apparently he was the sole reason that the college team won so often. Although, how true that was you weren’t entirely sure. He was immediately friendly and invited you to sit. You had expected him to be unwelcoming and kind of arrogant but he was the complete opposite. He smiled and cracked a few goofy jokes upon your arrival to put you at ease.

Sitting next to him was Cordelia, but she preferred ‘Cordy’. She was Buffy’s sorority sister and head cheer coach. She was dating Xander, only in the sense that they shared sodas and the backseat of Cordy’s new car. She could have quite a biting attitude but she did this as a term of endearment you found… to the lucky few.

Then there was Willow, who you had already met. She was a proud nerd and she had more extracurriculars than you could count up to it seemed. She was incredibly sweet and good-natured treating you as if she had known you her whole life. You also learned she had a girlfriend.

Tara, who was sat braiding Willow’s hair seeing as she had finished her lunch already. It appeared like she needed to do something when she was sat in a group. She appeared nice although she didn’t speak as much as everyone else so it was

Usually, someone called Angel would show. Everyone on campus knew him apparently as he was a member of one of the frats. He was kind of hard to get hold of you discovered. Buffy was a little disappointed when she explained that he wasn’t coming to lunch today. She appeared to really like him.

After the introductions were made and everyone started to eat again, the focus turned to you briefly. Buffy said you should totally join their cheerleading group or one of the fraternities or sororities. But this wasn’t really your kind of thing. You explain that you’d rather find something else. As you said this, you felt the corner of the flier in your pocket. You hoped you would find at least someone that shared your interests. That you could bond with over the things that excited you. Form a connection with.

Not to say you weren’t already feeling a welcoming vibe from the table you were sat with. They were friendly but appeared to be holding back slightly upon your arrival. You got it, you were new. But it did make you feel like you stood out a little.

You stared into the distance as they chatted, until someone spoke to you.

“Where are you staying, y/n?” Willow’s girlfriend, Tara, asked kindly. She seemed quiet and so probably knew how you were feeling. You smiled at her, appreciating her effort.

“Oh, I applied late so I got what was left. I’m in a shared house just off campus, I’m living with this guy – Spike”

There was a collective intake of breath and some shared looks. They appeared worried for you. You looked up in confusion at their shocked faces.

“He’s bad news”

“Yeah, hot off the presses – Spike is a total no-go. Nobody else took that room for a reason, there are rumours” Buffy warned you, her voice going quiet.

“And that Billy Idol wannabe hair? I get vintage, but that guys totally stuck living in the eighties” Cordy commented, the resident expert in style you would soon discover.

“What are the rumours?” You asked, bracing yourself for the reply.

“Well, apart from the superficial stuff-”

“Yeah, Cor’s got that part covered” Xander teased which made Cordy stamp on his foot under the table. He yelped and they glared at each other before they began suddenly launching themselves at each other and making out.

“Anyway… he’s horrible to everyone. He once got into a fist fight over a half pack of cigarettes he found on the sidewalk”

“He has a new, uh, sex buddy every week and he’s on constant probation. They threaten to expel him from college all the time” Willow had whispered her warning which had made Buffy smile fondly.

But you weren’t smiling. You were starting to worry. You knew you should have checked the place out before you signed the agreement. Now you were stuck there.

“I can’t stay there if he’s gonna fight me! I can’t throw a punch” You said, not quite believing that he would try to hurt you.

“We have self-defence class on Thursdays, we can sign you up” Buffy said, patting your hand that was resting on the table. Your eyes widened, they really thought he might fight you.

“Buffy’s the teacher” Willow explained before telling you not to worry.

Since this conversation, you were even more cautious around Spike. The tension began to rise between you. His attitude was unforgiving and he had taken one look at you and immediately judged you as being ‘one of them’.

You tried to be his friend to begin with, being naturally friendly and wanting some kind of approval from him that you didn’t understand.

But it soon became apparent you were almost complete opposites.

He kept the kitchen in a mess where you liked to have some sense of cleanliness. He had become really annoyed with you when you had cleaned up. You had a spare couple of hours in the afternoon and thought you would make it look tidy. You had done it to be kind but he had snatched the bowl you had cleaned for him and stormed away.

The tension was beginning to rise between you. You spoke to your new friends about it when you sat with them at lunch and they fuelled your feelings. You were starting to realise just how much you didn’t like Spike.

You and Spike, apart from the odd hello from you and the irritated grunt from him, didn’t communicate. He had ripped up your note suggesting a rota system for keeping the house tidy. And he all-out blanked you if he ever stumbled onto some lame corner of the campus that you were hanging out in.

The tension moved from apparent indifference to an increasing distaste for the other and their opposing nature. Spike assumed you thought you were better than he was. Because you studied. And slept early and had friends that were ridiculously too clean-cut.

He had seen you hanging out with Buffy and her gang of losers. He instantly decided you were just some bland prep like them. He was waiting for the day you tried to bring one of them over so he could have the pleasure of kicking them out of his house the way they shunned him in public.

One evening, a few weeks after you had met Buffy’s friends in the canteen for the first time, you were home alone. Spike had gone out as he usually would to get drunk and you were staying in just like almost every other night since you had moved to Sunnydale.

You couldn’t sleep and so you had sat in the shared living space watching some boring late-night show for company. You hugged a cushion to your chest and just stared blankly at the screen. Feigning listening to the low buzzing of the set and hoping you could fall asleep this way.

It was at a time where you hadn’t started meeting your new group of friends outside of the canteen at lunch yet. You didn’t have people to talk to, you wouldn’t want to bother them anyway.

Suddenly the front door swung open and there was what sounded like some kind of scuffle happening through the doorway. You frowned confused. Until you saw that it was Spike shoving his tongue down someone’s throat. It was the third different person Spike had brought home that week. And it was Wednesday.

You had been sat in the dark and Spike was otherwise occupied so he dragged your houseguest to the sofa that you were sat on and tangled against them with an urgency fuelled by loneliness or alcohol – you didn’t stick around long enough to care why he did it.

You were fixed to the spot, your face contorted in horror as you had unwittingly become a part of his one night stand. But as their bodies rolled and pressed against yours, you screamed. They smelled as if they had brought the entire brewery home with them.

Spike barely even registered that you were there, he just cast an eye towards you and raised an eyebrow. As if you were the one in his way. You saw his hand lowering, groping his new friend and your eyes widened and you scrambled to remove yourself from the area and get to the solace of your room.

You scowled. He was so inconsiderate.

As the weeks went by it was apparent that you were never going to get along. You were annoyed that he wouldn’t acknowledge that the house was now shared. He treated you as if you were damp seeping into the walls. Tainting everywhere he turned. Bubbling and creating a problem in the corner. Spreading and ruining his mood with your stubborn insistence to stay in the home.

And you were starting to treat him the same way. Which, he knew you would eventually. He had guessed your friendliness had been an act.

You were just too different. You liked to study to stay on top of your work. Whereas Spike didn’t ever seem to be doing any work. You were always in his business, making comments and singing those musical songs around the house that bugged him so much.

It was as if you were living in a better way than him. You were trying to ‘improve’ him and he felt as if you were suffocating him with all of your little ideas about changing the house around. You were really starting to get on his nerves.

He kept irregular hours and this was okay by you, so long as it didn’t affect your sleep schedule. But, unfortunately it often did.

You had leaned over to turn your bedside lamp off and settled into bed. You closed your eyes, smiling at the day you had. Cordy and Buffy had taken you shopping. They insisted they would find you a new college wardrobe. You gave them a budget and your style ideas and they worked their magic.

You were so grateful they had kind of started to take you under their wing. You weren’t entirely sure if it was to get dirt on Spike at first, but they had gotten bored of the topic as the weeks went on and were more interested in getting to know you.

You began to drift into sleep as you recounted your day. Until all of a sudden you were jolted awake. Loud music had started playing. You checked the clock it was nearing midnight – you had gotten in much later than you usually would after your friends had taken you for a drink to celebrate a successful shopping trip.

The pounding of the music and the screaming vocals were so loud it was as if the band was playing a live set directly beside your bed. Your entire room appeared to be shaking because of it.

You got out of bed, your anger bubbling dangerously higher with every step you took towards the source of the noise. He was sat in the shared living area, drinking liquor from the bottle and nodding along to the music.

“I have a really important class tomorrow, can you keep it down?” You asked, trying to make your voice sound level.

“Don’t know. Can you keep your hands off my Weetabix?” He asked snidely. You had seen one of his friends or… whatever they were eat the last of it. But you were too embarrassed to bring up his promiscuity. The rumours had made you cautious of him and so you just didn’t say anything.

He quirked his eyebrow as if he had caught you out and turned to the cd player he was using. You sighed some relief but rather than turning it down he twisted the dial so that the volume was at its fullest.

This was it. You stalked towards the Cd player and turned the volume right down. He got up from his seat immediately, grabbing your upper arm to pull you away. His grip was firm and his body was extremely close to yours. His eyes were hard and unforgiving as he spoke.

“Did you forget the rules already? Don’t. touch. My. Bloody. Stuff”

You snatched your arm away and gritted your teeth. You couldn’t think of any witty comebacks. You wished you were Buffy or Willow – they would have known what to say.

Instead, you just expelled air through your nose and stormed off. The punk song now blaring out of the speakers again as you slammed your door shut.

You were so angry you were shaking. You stomped into bed, putting a pillow over your head and tried, and mostly failed, to get some sleep.

You were a zombie the next day. Completely running on caffeine. Your new friends helped you out, tried to wake you up before class and Cordy swore that when she saw Spike next she would give him a piece of her mind. You appreciated them so much.

You were worried because you didn’t seem to have as much in common with the others. Cordy and Buffy went to their cheer club and their sorority. Xander was the basketball star with a goofy, soft heart. And Willow was this complete sweetheart genius who had a love for learning and found the work here all so easy. Her girlfriend was really sweet too, although a little quiet. You had only met her once that time in the canteen but you decided you could probably call her a friend too.

You didn’t have much in common, you were more bookish and you had to work a lot harder to grasp what was being taught. Despite your love of learning, it didn’t come naturally to you. You had to work at it to maintain an average grade. This meant you would study even harder to achieve those grades that you truly desired.

But luckily, despite your suggested lack in commonality, they really liked you for some reason. You and your new friends had all just clicked. At least you had them to be accepting of you.

Either way, that still didn’t solve a problem like Spike.

He infuriated you. He made you want to scream. You wanted to move out. A dark part of you wanted to sneak into his room at night and smother him with the pillow he had forced you to cover your ears with.

You just hoped through the rest of the year that things couldn’t get any worse than it already was. That you could just ride it out.

You were sure there was no way to bridge this gap. No way you could possibly ever get over what a complete pain he was. You couldn’t stand him. He was smug and didn’t care about anything. He was selfish and he didn’t even acknowledge you in public.

You just wanted to get this college year done and get out of there. You had decided that if you ever saw Spike’s face again after this year – it would be one time too many.

#UC Sunnyhell #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gn #multi chapter #multi fic #spike fic

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iamkidfish · 4 years ago

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some things we can’t get back (i miss the way we used to be)

Read it here!

Ian hears of a party happening this weekend from Taz Nguyen as they’re walking to class and tells Leah during their shared lunch break, sitting on a table in the quad. It’s something she’s been doing all semester, all of high school really, but there’s a weird sense of deja vu that hits Leah when Fatin, on the other side of the quad, walks by surrounded by a flock of people.

After a year, after the island, the bunker, some things stay the same: Fatin doesn’t even look at her.

or: after the island, Fatin retreats back to her old ways and Leah tries to help

Pair: Leah/Fatin

Wordcount: 2.7k of the most leatin angst I have ever written hehe

Read it on ao3 or under the cut

Leah knows something is wrong with Fatin pretty quickly after they return back to Berkeley, but it takes her months to pinpoint exactly what it is, and even longer to track her down on the weekends. It's harder than it should be, especially with Ian and Dot helping her, but then Fatin avoids eye contact with her in the hallway as Leah is walking to fourth period (like she has done all semester) and the realization hits her like a punch to the face: Fatin is running again, just like before except this time, (and it jolts sharply in Leah’s chest) she’s not just leaving out of spite, Fatin is running away from her.

It’s like she’s back in those fucking woods, muddied and exhausted, and fear is buzzing a warning in her chest that’s making her question her instincts instead of the suburbs of Berkeley, where her life should be going back to normal, but fuck, Leah will trudge through the woods until she sees Fatin again, even if she doesn’t want to be found.

Operation: Find Fatin (or O.F.F. as Ian writes it on a whiteboard in an empty classroom during their lunch break one day in October, after Leah explains the whole situation to him and embarrassingly, her feelings) starts with recon, both Leah and Ian trying to find what parties are happening and which ones Fatin is going to. That’s the hard part: determining which of her classmates Fatin would deem cool enough to party with and finding them. Once she asks, they’re more than willing to give her addresses, dates, and times, anything to get one of the members of the Unsinkable Eight to go to their party.

After a year, after the island, the bunker, some things stay the same: Fatin doesn’t even look at her.

Whatever they meant to each other on the island is gone now and it still leaves the sharp acidity of disappointment in Leah’s mouth.

The information Taz gives them turns out to be fake or Fatin doesn’t show, either way it’s kind of a disaster. Both of them get healthily shitfaced off of green apple vodka that burns the back of Leah’s throat and Ian helps himself to the wine cellar in the basement, which obviously Leah needs to make fun of him for his preference for expensive white wine. Whoever’s house it is, it’s fucking ginormous, enough for Ian to air out his (long) list of drunken grievances off the top balcony, overlooking the Bay below. He shouts it like he’s the king of the world, confident and stumbling all at once, and Leah’s too drunk to stop him. If their lives were a movie then maybe Ian would try to kiss her again and maybe if they were different people then Leah would let him, but luckily, that part of their lives has passed; instead, they both lean over the railing in silence.

Later when they’re back around people, she overhears info about another party with an address that’s close enough to Uber (because there’s no fucking way either of them are driving right now) without having to justify spending too much money on tracking Fatin down—even though she’s worth it—so Leah drags Ian away from the girl he’s talking to and they scramble outside.

The autumn air is cool and welcome on her burning face. As they’re waiting for the Uber, Ian stumbles around like the drunk idiot he is and Leah can’t help but laugh at him. Their car pulls up and then she’s shoving him inside, all of their limbs flailing awkwardly. The guy driving is nice, at least; he really doesn’t talk except to tell them goodbye. Even in her inebriated state, Leah’s still coherent enough to give him a five star review. The walk up the cobblestone driveway is a long one, especially since Ian keeps wandering off onto the perfectly manicured lawn, and she’s not a complete asshole but she’s also not perfect, so she pulls Ian back onto the driveway but not before he can stomp through some flower beds. She might as well have to buy one of those child backpacks that doubles as a leash.

Just as the alcohol is wearing off enough to make her reconsider walking basically the San Francisco Marathon to get to this house party, the house comes into view. Of course it’s fucking huge, just like the last one. There’s four giant stone columns, maybe about twenty feet tall, connecting from the top of the hours to the base of the porch, and Leah has to laugh because who the fuck would ever be pretentious enough to model their house after the Parthenon.

And it hits her, because she knows exactly the type of family who lives here, the one that buys thousand dollar waterproof suitcases and sends their eldest daughter off knowing fully what’s going to happen to her, and still somehow not giving a shit, the one that cares more about appearances rather than the wellness of their own children.

Vaguely, Leah remembers Fatin mentioning her mom being a real estate agent and yeah, by the look of their house, that checks out. The next time Ian goes ambling around, Leah doesn’t stop him from ‘accidentally’ knocking over a few potted plants along the stone walkway up to the front door, spilling soil behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs. The closer they get to the house, the louder it becomes—not just with music, omnipresent bass blasting out of what’s sure to be a state of the art sound system, enough to rattle Leah’s teeth, but people, singing or yelling, trying to be heard above the music—and the whole house swells and throbs with the cacophony of it all, a whole ecosystem behind the front doors.

Her plan is simple: grab a drink or two with Ian and then start wandering the house, looking for Fatin. Leah’s got a pretty good idea that Fatin has to be around here somewhere; she’s not the type to go ghost at her own party. Automatically, the plan becomes more complicated when Ian sees some of his friends right when they walk through the front door and they motion for him to come smoke with them. Leah lets him go and watches as Ian walks away, pulling a joint from behind his ear, where it rests against that silly arrow tattoo he has.

Now she’s alone, standing in the entryway and picking at the hem of her dress, and it’s not what she imagined her first time stepping into Fatin Jadmani’s house would be like. At the very least, she thought she’d meet Fatin’s brothers (remembers how fondly Fatin would talk about them, would swap stories with Shelby about their younger siblings) or maybe even her mother, obviously not in a romantic way (Leah doesn’t allow herself that much hope, even in daydreams), but meeting her family all of the same. Meeting her father is very much obviously out of the question, for the things he did of course, but more because Leah might punch him the second she sees him for making Fatin cry all those times on the island, after dark when she thought no one else was awake. And it would be during the day, not at what Leah considers Fatin’s attempt at the most successful rager on this side of the west coast

There’s really only one logical fix for this: she needs a drink.

Briefly, Leah does wonder where the rest of Fatin’s family is, if they’re aware this party is happening, as she maneuvers past the throngs of people settled in the living room, lying on the couches and floor like it’s their own house. As suspected, the kitchen—where all the drinks are—is even worse. Leah has half a mind to tell the people who are raiding the panty to have a little self respect, but the drunk part of her brain concedes there’s probably some great snacks on the shelves.

She grabs a hard seltzer from the fridge—she should slow down anyway—and settles in one of the chairs adjacent to the ridiculously large kitchen island complete with granite countertops. At least it’s a little less crowded here, people tend to grab their drinks and keep migrating to other parts of the house. Leah looks around, trying to find if she knows anyone else here, which she spots a few kids from school who look vaguely familiar, maybe they’re in the instrumental performance concentration, but it’s hard to tell because everyone is dressed differently (thighs and midriffs on display, unbuttoned shirts revealing surprisingly toned chests and stomachs ) honestly, most of their time is spent holed up in the practices rooms anyway. The majority of the people here she doesn't know and whether they’re from the local public high schools or UC Berkeley or have some other connection to Fatin she doesn’t know about, pretty much everyone is loud, annoying, and drunk.

So is Fatin, who Leah sees parading around the backyard, but she’s also soaking wet. And wearing one of the smallest bikinis Leah’s ever seen, which is impressive because she knows Fatin’s wardrobe. Maybe she lets her eyes linger a second longer on the shadow of Fatin’s exposed hip bones than she would if she was sober. Leah looks around the kitchen and the few other people sitting near her have also stopped drinking or talking or whatever they were doing to watch Fatin walk and talk to the posse of conveniently very attractive people who are surrounding her.

Now she knows, the Jadmani’s have a pool. And apparently Fatin likes to go swimming at nearly 1 a.m, effectively shutting down all coherent thoughts in Leah’s brain. She needs to get out of there before Fatin can get to the kitchen and notice her leaning against the countertops so Leah grabs the nearest liquor bottle, dumps a truly potent amount into her can, and slips out to the living room.

But then, not less than five minutes later, when she’s inspecting a piece of artwork hanging on the wall—

“Leah”

And she turns—

Fatin looks as surprised to see her as Leah feels, standing in Fatin’s living room and holding a can filled with a liquid she wouldn’t voluntarily drink even if her life depended on it, and there’s a moment where they just look at each other. Something like recognition flashes in Fatin’s eyes and Leah tries to say something, starts to open her mouth, but then Fatin’s jaw clenches tight (and she looks at Leah like how she did on the beach, blood on her hands, menacing) and she’s turning around to the people who surround her, loudly introducing Leah to them as her ‘friend’—like they didn’t spend almost three months surviving on a deserted island together, didn’t sleep next to her almost every night, didn’t hold Leah in her arms after she ran into the ocean, like all of these people don’t already recognize her—and the small, selfish part of Leah can’t hate her, but every other part of her body does.

The crowd of people, much larger now that two members of the Unsinkable Eight are in attendance together, cheers as Fatin makes her way over to Leah. She puts an arm around Leah, who’s so surprised by the physical contact she stumbles a bit, and the crowd roars louder. Then, Fatin kisses Leah’s cheek, hard and sloppy, and Leah can feel the hot alcohol on her breath and it’s nothing like the last time Fatin had kissed her, all slow and sweet and full of timid promise, as they watched the sun set over the island, but she stands there, allows herself be guided by Fatin, the cup in her hand shaking from the rattle of the bass and bodies pounding the floor.

Fatin kisses Leah’s cheek and it burns.

And it’s only after Fatin removes her arm from around her shoulders that Leah takes her cup, throws it back and downs the entire contents in one swallow.

Fuck, it’s not fair and she realizes how desperate and needy it’ll sound if she asks why Fatin’s been ignoring her at school, how pathetic it’ll sound, especially in front of a whole crowd of people who wouldn’t give her the time of the day if she wasn’t stuck on that island. And this plan was doomed from the start anyway so Leah lets herself be pushed around, Fatin holding her wrist and tugging her along, introducing Leah to all of her new ‘friends’, and reassuring them Leah is ‘chill’ (a laugh bites and claws its way out of her throat).

The night continues and Leah can’t stand it: the polarization of Fatin’s behavior, the way she’s gone from completely ignoring Leah’s existence to showing her off like a prop, the way the others talk Fatin into rolling up hundreds and brushing them through lines of God-knows-what on the coffee table, the way Fatin looks at her, once, after she’s brushed the drugs off her nose the second time, and her eyes are hazy but looking at Leah like she remembers, like she still cares.

Leah looks away first and Fatin goes right back to being the life of the party. Or maybe she’s always been like this and Leah’s just been disillusioned this whole time.

Somewhere between getting to the house and her fourth drink, Leah stumbles away to find the bathroom. Only when she opens a door, it opens up to a bed and not a toilet, and there’s two people making out on said bed.

And one of them is Fatin.

The other is a girl, which doesn’t surprise Leah but makes her do a double take when she realizes the girl has blue eyes. Blonde hair, pulled back into space buns, but blue eyes, just like hers. There’s a hickey, too, fresh on the girl’s neck.

Yeah, she needs to get out of here.

Leah pulls Fatin off of the bed with a mild grunt and suddenly they’re face to face, standing just outside of the doorway. Fatin is staring at her, freshly-kissed and beautiful, and her life is a goddamn tragedy because Leah’s experienced this before, on an island thousands of miles away, and well, it doesn’t look like she’ll experience it again anytime soon. Maybe Fatin remembers it too or maybe she just takes pity on Leah, but she’s always been too good at reading Leah’s feelings and she offers a quiet, too-sincere, “you can join if you want, a spot in the action,” and for one blissful, magnificent second, Leah considers it. Lets herself indulge and really looks at Fatin for the first time tonight, eyes roving over Fatin’s body and noticing her sunburn hasn’t totally healed right near her temple (even after months) and the mottled skin of her left thigh, the white scar there, from the first few days on the island, too high on her leg that Leah can’t look at it without getting dizzy.

She’s drunk enough to look Fatin directly in the eyes and stupid enough to think her offer means more than it does. And Leah realizes she just wants Fatin to be fucking serious for once, so she doesn’t break Leah’s heart while she’s drunk and high and fucking laughing about it, realizes bitterly that Fatin’s first direct sentence she’s spoken to her since the bunker, since everything, was about a threesome and how fucking fitting that is and what a goddamn full circle that is, and she realizes this isn’t going to work for them, not now, not like this.

So she does what the others wanted her to do that first week when they were searching in the woods, she stops looking, and leaves.

#the wilds #the wilds fic #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #leah x fatin #leatin #leatin fic #some times youre allowed to have bad coping methods after being used in a highly unethical experiment #writing #buckle up folks

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anzu2snow · 4 years ago

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Today’s Agender Pride Day. This isn’t very well known, and I tend to forget until I look at facebook memories or a page might post on the day of about it. I realized I was agender a few years ago, but always knew I was ‘different’ gender wise. By the way, it means I don’t have a gender. It’s not a political statement or anything. I simply don’t have one. One of the questions I asked people when I was questioning, was what does gender feel like? The answers were either vague, I couldn’t relate, or they couldn’t answer. I can see it in other people, but for me there is literally nothing there. It’s like I’m an alien observing other people. Some agender people lean masculine or feminine. I don’t. I’m neither. I view those as styles, and like nice fancy masks but I don’t feel like I can relate or are them. I think my ideal gender expression would be a mix of those ‘styles’. Not sure if I’d call it androgynous. Some agender people experience dysphoria, and some don’t. I do. Basically anything gendered has potential to trigger it. That’s a lot of things. Body wise, I feel like a patchwork doll. My chest, facial hair, ‘downstairs’ (although vague), wide shoulders, etc. get to me. My chest is probably the source of most of my dysphoria, and I might not get top surgery. It’s up to me, but it could make my cancer progress. Anyways, it’s great there’s a pride day for us.

Today’s also World IBD Day. I was diagnosed with IBD (Inflammatory Bowel Disease) in July of 2015. It often gets confused with IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome), but they are very different. They never were sure whether it is UC (Ulcerative Colitis) or Crohn’s Disease. UC only affects the colon and rectum, while Crohn’s can affect the entire digestive system from the mouth to the anus. In both cases the body is essentially eating away at its own digestive system. That’s why it’s considered an autoimmune disease. Mine had signs that it slightly affected my stomach and duodenum, and that’s why they were leaning towards Crohn’s. Plus, my symptoms lined up more with it. The only reason they aren’t sure is because of an IBD blood test that came back saying it was UC. My entire colon was affected and has been scarred pretty badly from it. When I saw the pics they got from the first colonoscopy, I thought it looked beautiful. My colon looked like an angry red sky with tons of bright yellow stars. Those ‘stars’ were ulcers. Not good. The ‘red sky’ part was the inflammation. Before being diagnosed, the scariest thing was not knowing. I had symptoms of it as early as January that year. I had malabsorption problems at one point. There’s no cure for it. It can only go into remission with meds, and even then it’s really just slowed it down to a crawl. I haven’t been on any meds for it for a few years now. I’ve been told that I’ve been in remission during this time, but I think I’ve had brief flares of it since then. Diet doesn’t affect the disease itself, however it can help with symptoms/side effects. I’ve figured out some of my trigger foods. That being things like popcorn, corn, summer sausage, and more. While in remission, some foods can still irritate the scarring in my colon. So, I try to stay away from insoluble fiber, and eat more soluble fiber. I eat more cooked/peeled vegetables and some fruit. Soups help a lot this way. I’ve figured out some of my soothing and calming foods, too. That helps when I feel like I’m in a flare. Things like eggs, fish, oatmeal, potatoes, bananas, ice cream and cheese (most people have dairy as a trigger, so I’m weird this way), challah (a type of bread), plain chicken, and more. IBD can affect other things outside of the digestive tract. For instance, bones, liver, eyes, teeth, skin, and more. It’s not just a ‘bathroom’ disease. Before getting the cancer diagnosis, IBD was the biggest thing I was going through.

#agender #genderless #trans #transgender #nonbinary #enby #genderqueer #agender pride day #world ibd day #ibd #inflammatory bowel disease #colitis #ulcerative colitis #crohns #health #autoimmune disease

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jlalafics · 5 years ago

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“Wild”, an Everlark ficlet-Part 1 of 3

For @hungergamesfangirl02, who requested a high school pregnancy Everlark.

Hope you enjoy!

Summary: “Katniss never wanted children. She’s not maternal; the mom gene never developed in her body and it makes perfect sense that she should not go through with this pregnancy.” Rated M.

Trigger Warning: Abortion. Alcohol and Drug Use, Underage Sex

-----

“I just bought a new car

One where the top goes down

So we can see the stars

I wanna take you so far

Out past the Saturn rings

And into my heart…”

—John Legend “Wild”

Wild

Part One: Months 1 to 3

“I don’t know why we’re even going to this party.”

Katniss reaches for the bottle of vodka, taking a quick sip before walking into Johanna’s closet. Her best friend’s closet is much better than her own paltry selection of clothing and she flips through the selection of dresses before settling on a short olive number with a corset.

“Because it’s Gale’s birthday and that guy has a huge boner for you,” Johanna replies, a rolled joint between her fingers. “He’s like, dying for you to welcome him into adulthood.”

“We’re friends; have been since we were kids.” Katniss pulls her shirt over her head, her jeans following it to the carpet. “I can’t even think about him that way without thinking that our children would come out with extra toes.”

“You’ve thought about children with him?” Johanna cackles as she stands to help Katniss pull the dress on.

“With disgust,” Katniss informs her. “I don’t even want children. My genetics—with the exception of Prim—prove that Everdeens should not breed.”

“I’m not talking about breeding with him. I’m talking about fucking him.” Johanna zips Katniss up before looking at her friend approvingly. “Nice.”

Katniss reaches for a bottle of vodka, taking a deeper swig of the alcohol. She could already feel the rush from the pills she’d taken before coming to the Mason mansion.

“Let’s get this over with,” she tells Johanna. “I don’t want to waste this high on you.”

“Fuck you!” Her best friend throws an arm around her. “You know you love me.”

Katniss grins, pressing a light kiss to Johanna’s lips. “I don’t love anyone else but you and Prim.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble—but I like cock.” Her best friend’s face sobers for a quick moment. “A particular one, but you know how it goes.”

A laugh escapes Katniss’ vodka-lined lips. “Let’s go and forget about cocks for one night.”

“Agreed.” They shake hands before grasping each other’s fingers, then kissing the tops of each other’s hands. “I think the Uber is here.”

They head out, the smell of liquor and weed permeating the room before Johanna takes one last toke of her blunt and closes the door behind her.

++++++

The Hawthornes own a moderately-sized home on the opposite side of town known as the Seam. The great thing is the houses are so far apart that no one even notices the large congregations of cars parked along the street.

The two-story farmhouse is filled to the brim with people. From what Katniss could gauge, it is most of the upcoming senior class. Johanna is already pulling her into the packed house, and Katniss puts up little resistance since the pills are causing everything to move in slow motion.

The calm steadiness from the medication helps her usually-frantic system. Without them, Katniss is hitting highs where she’s doing things like studying the ceiling of her room, counting every single speck on it (last count: 250) or hitting lows where she won’t even bother leaving her bed.

It’s really her mother’s fault for leaving her medications out—in their cabinet—where anyone could just sneak a pill or two.

“Katniss!” They turn to find Gale heading towards them, two blonds flanking his sides. One of them is Marvel, who was on the wrestling team with Gale. The other one is unfamiliar, but his eyes are so brilliantly blue that Katniss is sure that it’s the drugs making them that way.

“Hey!” She gives Gale a smile. “Happy beginning of the end!”

“She means happy birthday!” Johanna pipes in loudly since they’re next to one of the speakers. Katniss smiles at Marvel. “Hey, Marvel.” Then, she looks to the other boy. “Who the hell are you?”

“This is Peeta Mellark,” Gale says. “Just transferred from Capitol High. He’s the newest recruit for the wrestling team. We’ve all been practicing together at the school gym.”

“So, you can pin someone down?” Katniss suddenly asks the boy in front of her.

“I’m not that good, but I’m getting there.” Peeta holds out his hand to her, his blue eyes staring into her hazed greys. “What’s your name?”

She takes it, enjoying the feeling of his warm hand wrapped in hers immediately. “Katniss Everdeen.”

Johanna looks between the two, her dark eyes lighting up devilishly.

“Oh, you two—something’s going to happen here.”

++++++

Katniss hates when Johanna was right.

The thought rushes into her mind as she’s straddling Peeta in his car, the droptop open as they fuck in the middle of the woods twenty or so minutes away from Gale’s party. She can still hear the music as she rocks against Peeta.

It started so innocently.

They had started talking about the upcoming school year; they are in the same AP classes and she tells him about her plans to get the hell out of Panem to UC Berkeley, which is way across the country.

“No shit! I’m going to Berkeley!” Peeta tells her. “I’m planning to go into environmental studies. How about you?”

“Not sure,” she says, looking around the party to distract herself from the closeness of the boy. Katniss knows nothing about him, except for the fact that just standing next to him causes her body to come alive. “Isn’t that what your first two years are for? To decide?”

“True.” Peeta takes another sip from his cup, his cheeks already pink. Katniss thinks it’s adorable—or at least the vodka does. “Tell me about our classmates.”

“I can’t talk shit about them here,” she counters. “You have a car?”

Peeta nods. “Across the street.”

Katniss takes his hand, entwining their fingers. “Let’s go and I’ll tell you all about them.”

He looks to her as they head out of the party. “Gale tells me that you’re trouble.”

“Gale has been wanting to get into my pants for years,” she retorts when they reach his car. “Of course, he’d say that to someone I’m interested in.”

“You’re interested in me?” Peeta asks as he opens the door for her.

“I am trouble,” Katniss informs him. “And I am.”

++++++

They never get to talking about their classmates.

Instead, Peeta opens the top of the car and Katniss is immediately thrilled by the cool wind hitting her cheeks. She curls up in her seat, head thrown back as she stares up at the black sky filled with stars; they seem so much brighter tonight.

The car is speeding up and she holds her arms out unafraid—because she’s flying high with this beautiful boy beside her.

She looks to him and sees the hunger in his gaze as he watches her.

Katniss points to a clearing on the side of the road and Peeta immediately turns, the tires squealing as the car enters the forest.

As soon as he parks the car, Katniss is on him, her thighs straddling him in his seat as she leans down to kiss him. Peeta responds eagerly, his hand reaching for the nape of her neck to deepen the kiss and she moans, feeling her center twisting almost painfully.

Every part of her consciousness whispers in her ear: ‘Take him, fuck him, make him yours…’

“You’re driving me wild,” Peeta says against her skin, his lips going to her neck as his hands travel down her arms.

Her own hands are already reaching to pull his cock out from his jeans and she’s happy to know that he is well-endowed—thick and just the right length. She could really care less about length; it’s the width that she craves. She loves feeling of every ridge of a cock filling her up; she loves the fullness of her cunt hugging a thick one.

“That’s a good thing,” Katniss says as she strokes him, her hand moving rapidly up and down. He’s practically humping her hand. “Just let yourself feel, Peeta.”

She thanks her foresight for deciding on barely-there underwear as she moved the scrap of cloth away from her slit and plunges down onto his length.

“Fuck!” Peeta feels unbelievable and Katniss wants nothing more than to feel him as deep as she can. She rides him, listening to him moan and call out her name. His hands are on her hips, guiding her as he thrusts up. “Yes, like that Peeta…”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says against her ear. “Like you were made for me.”

The timbre of his voice, so thick with desire, drives her to move faster. She loses herself in the feel of him, telling him every dirty thing that she wants them to do together; how she wants him to fuck her mouth and how she wants him to ride his face till he’s drenched in her slick…

Peeta comes when she tells him that she wants to call him Daddy.

She climaxes, feeling his come fill her, his blue eyes wild and lost in his own orgasm.

As they come down, they cling to one another, not quite ready to move, just enjoying the feeling of togetherness and feeling like there’s no one else in the world right now but them.

++++++

School starts without a hitch and Katniss and Peeta’s little tryst is put aside as they enter their senior year.

The morning after was not awkward at all; she simply kissed him and offered to pay for breakfast. They drive up to a Wendy’s and eat in the parking lot before he dropped her off at Johanna’s house where she was supposed to be sleeping over.

Peeta asks for her number and she gives it to him before kissing him chastely goodbye.

They even have classes together; they get paired together in Miss Trinket’s World Cultures class. They work on their presentation on Brazil, her hand moving along his thigh with their ankles twisted together.

They never fuck, though—on more than one occasion—one of them catches the other alone for a mind-blowing kiss in a deserted hallway.

She goes to wrestling matches with Johanna on the pretense of supporting the team, but it’s mostly to watch Peeta. She can tell that Gale is pissed at her; he’s not exactly looking at Peeta like a friend anymore ever since Johanna pointed out how Peeta left with Katniss during his party.

“Oh Katniss…I can see why you let him fuck you,” Johanna says as they watch Peeta wrestle someone from the opposing team. “Look at that ass.”

She sighs, her nipples aching in remembrance. “I never got a chance to do anything with his ass, but if it’s as good as his cock—then it’s best to leave it as it is.”

“You should let him take you out,” Johanna tells her.

“No. We’ve got a good thing going on,” Katniss insists. “I don’t need anything more.”

However, she embarrassingly stands up and cheers when he wins the match.

Their eyes meet and the smile he gives her tells her that she’s playing with fire.

++++++

Another month has passed, and Katniss realizes that she hasn’t had her period.

Her breasts hurt, but the blood has not come.

“How could you not realize that you haven’t had your period?” Johanna asks as they sit in her bathroom, waiting for the test results on the store bought pregnancy test. “Also, have you not heard of emergency contraception?”

“I spent the rest of that weekend in front of this very toilet,” Katniss tells her tightly. “I wasn’t exactly in the right mindset.”

“How are you going to tell your mother?” her friend continues to prod.

“I’m not,” she replies. “I’m just going to have it taken care of—if I am.”

“You are.” Johanna picks up the test to show her the bold pink plus sign. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No—” Katniss coughs back her tears. “I told you. I’m taking care of it.”

However, when her best friend takes her in her arms, she can’t help but cry.

++++++

“How’s school?” Katniss asks Prim, her younger sister, over breakfast.

“Okay.” Prim digs into her pancakes and looks to Katniss. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I have toast.” Katniss holds up the piece. The nausea has come full force and so she’s sticking to things that won’t make her head fall into a toilet for the millionth time. “Anything cool happening?”

“How many cool things happen in middle school?” her sister retorts with a smile. “We are having a school dance next week.”

Katniss sits next to her. “Do you have a date?”

“I’m going with Rory and Rue and bunch of our friends,” Prim informs her. Rory is Gale’s younger brother and Rue has been friends with Prim since Pre-K. “Hey Katniss? Who’s Peeta Mellark?”

“A guy at my school,” Katniss replies in surprise. “Why?”

“Rory says that Gale’s all bent out of shape because you two apparently were together at his party,” her sister informs her. “And he called this morning.”

Katniss had stopped replying to his texts after finding out she was pregnant.

“I heard that his family is rich,” Prim tells her. “Like, they have some big real estate company and own most of the retail lots in Chicago and Washington D.C.” Her sister bounces in her seat, blonde hair moving with her. “Does he like you?”

“He’s nice and we hung out. That’s about it.”

“But he called you and seemed really nice on the phone,” Prim continued. “Rue and I looked him up on Facebook. He’s really cute.”

“I agree. He is cute.” So was his cock, but that was neither here nor there. “But you know relationships with boys like that never work out with girls like me. We barely make enough for rent and Mom has to work all the time. I’m just lucky that I got a full scholarship for Berkeley.”

“You’re like Star-Crossed Lovers!” Prim squeals, her blue eyes dreamy.

“You know they die at the end,” Katniss points out.

Her sister snorts. “You’re no fun.”

++++++

The Friday of Prim’s school dance, Katniss finds herself at Johanna’s again. There’s no weed or vodka tonight. Instead, she is sitting in her bathroom; her best friend giving her a moment to herself. Katniss sits on the lid of the toilet, two packets of pills in each of her hands: mifepristone and misoprostol—or Pill 1 and Pill 2 for her convenience.

There’s an unopened bottle of water next to her; she’s wearing her favorite pair of sweats and the oversized sweater that she kept that was her Dad’s. It was the only things she kept of his after he died. She is prepped, wearing a pad as the clinic instructed and Johanna has a heating pad if she needs it.

All she must do is take the pills.

It had been unbelievably easy to get them, a simple exam telling her that she’s entering her third month of pregnancy and that the blood tests look fine. She’s been screened for STDs and has come out clean—good to know—and is in perfect health.

The doctor at the clinic tells her that it’s better to do this somewhere comfortable so she goes to Johanna’s—she can’t imagine being at home waiting to abort—and she needs her friend’s support.

Johanna welcomes her—they have always had each other’s backs.

She opens the first packet of Pill 1 and then places it on the counter before opening the bottle of water.

Katniss holds the pill in her hand—she easily finds her way to pills…but something holds her back.

“You have to understand.” She’s not sure who she is reasoning to. “I’m only seventeen. I barely know your Dad. You will ruin everything…” Katniss says the last part shakily. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean—I have so many plans and I don’t know how to fit you into them.”

Her hand reaches for that first pill and her fingers tremble.

“Just fucking do it!”

Katniss has no idea why she is crying. Maybe it’s because she can picture her father’s sad eyes staring at her before they morph into Peeta’s lovely blues. She can already tell that Peeta might love her—but love is for suckers and she knows she only has the capability to hurt.

She’s already hurting him—the one in her stomach that she’s supposed to be getting rid of.

Katniss never wanted children. She’s not maternal; the mom gene never developed in her body and it makes perfect sense that she should not go through with this pregnancy.

She tells herself this as she flushes Pill 1 down the toilet.

“You have no idea what you’re fucking doing!”

Katniss tells herself this through her sobs as she takes Pill 2, opens the case, and flushes it down the toilet as well.

There’s a buzz on her phone; it’s Peeta.

Perfect fucking timing: ‘Please talk to me.’

She responds immediately, ‘I’m at Johanna’s house. Can you pick me up?’

Texting him her friend’s address, his response comes in less than a minute:

‘I’m already outside.’

End of Part One

*I should be updating this every other day.

#Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark Ficlet #Everlark #teenpregnancy!Everlark #1 of 3

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