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cno-inbminor · 4 years

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a/n: drabble dump for our boy kuroo -- i love him loads and think about him endlessly. i also apologize beforehand for the awkward ending bc i’m terrible at ending things. hope you all enjoy! gonna go knock back a melatonin and sleep my wooziness away

w/c: ~2.4k; some angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol

you’re avoiding tetsurou, and he’s keen on figuring out why. college!au, friends to lovers.

“you’re not as slick as you think, y’know.”

instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine, electrifying you in quick, tiny bursts. those eight, nine words were more than enough to let you know who was standing behind you, peering over your shoulder in an effort to catch your gaze. his voice made your heart clench and lungs fight for oxygen – you begin to curse the high, intellectual level of tetsurou’s observational skills. you just wanted to make it another day without seeing his face outside of class, opting more for longer walks and just looking back to see the back of his stylishly mussed hair in the far distance. it frustrates you how much you’ve used the word ‘infuriating’ when it comes to him, but there’s no other better word you can think of without having to consult the thesaurus.

you have a few seconds to dart your eyes around, desperately searching for a way to escape. your productivity typically thrives within the library, but he’s always there, so with lots of pleading and promises of baked goods and decent coffee, you were able to borrow a close friend’s ID, a graduate student, and access the graduate resource room in a less traveled hallway. and in the expanse of that area, you’ve tucked yourself away into the back corner behind some shelves where almost no one visits. but it leaves you cornered and vulnerable – no matter which direction, in combination with his long legs, tetsurou would catch up to you in a heartbeat. you thought you had finally found a way to permanently escape his grasp, but apparently not.

much like you, he’s not supposed to be able to access this area. after all, you’re both senior undergrads so –

“how did you get in here?” you quietly hiss. you’re pretty sure you’d be booted out if you made any sound above 15 decibels, and you’re not about to let tetsurou ruin this haven for you.

there’s a rustle of clothing, a hand that rests on the back of your seat, and the hairs on the nape of your neck spike, before a delicate whisper informs, “you’re not the only one with grad student friends, love.”

if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself rigid, body absolutely understanding of the effect that this man has on you, you definitely would’ve shivered from the proximity. but the gentleness in his tone sends you back to three weeks ago – you’re no longer under a fluorescent light tucked between cream-colored walls, but rather basked in a somewhat garish hue of crimson. your veins were tinged with alcohol, the substance leaving you feeling like you were on clouds, a silly smile breaking across your face uncontrollably. other bodies surrounded you but the only one you were focused on was the one in front of you, following your swaying movements to the beat of the music coming through someone’s speakers. even in the warmth of the house, tetsurou’s hands on your waist seared your skin, branding the feeling on you for eternity. his eyes twinkled with apparent affection, unbridled and screaming at you for you to understand the line he wanted to so desperately cross, that the alcohol pushed it behind his efforts to deny himself the one thing he’s been searching for in all these years.

“i’m a little drunk, but fuck, you have no idea how bad i wanna kiss you,” he had murmured just loud enough into your ear, then ghosting his lips over the shell of it. everything around you dissolved into a blur as you could only focus on his breaths and the tightening of his grasp on you. his confession wasn’t completely unwarranted – not at all.

tetsurou and you had met in the quantitative analysis lab freshman year, having been assigned as partners for the semester just by how the ta’s drew the seating chart. he was a friendly, kind soul – had saved your ass multiple times from overshooting your titrations, prevented multiple beakers and graduated cylinders from falling over, always down to compare numbers to help ensure that neither of you were fucking up too hard.

coincidentally, the two of you were registered to the same ochem lab the next year and immediately gravitated towards each other, grateful to find some familiarity in all the anxiety. he witnessed your breakdown mid-lab, did his best to comfort you and salvage your sample so there was enough for recrystallization because you somehow got landed with a shitty, leaking separatory funnel, and stayed back with you when you had fallen behind in the cleanup process. from then on, it was a weekly habit to study together and work on your lab journals and reports together, not taking long to become close friends.

tetsurou did his best to keep his growing feelings at bay, knowing that you had explicitly mentioned swearing off relationships as you tried to figure out your future first. he wasn’t oblivious enough to think that you didn’t feel anything for him whatsoever – you were stubborn and tenacious at best. the house party at miya atsumu’s was simply a suggestion for the both of you to relax after a brutal midterm in your inorganic chemistry course, to let loose and treat yourself. he really hadn’t meant to say what he said, but just looked so good, so lovely and beautiful and enthralling, and you were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky – he knows he’s sent that same look to you multiple times when you weren’t looking, completely sober and unfazed.

he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close into you that night and you hadn’t stopped in – he knows he should’ve resisted, but feeling your soft lips against his was easily one of the top ten highlights of his college career, and his love for you only surged beyond his hold, overwhelming him to the point where all he could think about was nothing but holding your cheek in the palm of his hand so he could get a better angle and let himself indulge just this once.

that’s all it was – kissing and kissing in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor until there was no more oxygen left in either of your lungs. like a decent human being, he dropped you off at your apartment and bid you goodnight, hoping that you wouldn’t forget all the events that had transpired. and maybe, just maybe, he wished that you would let it happen again, that you could make him the exception in your plans.

evidently, you did remember it, because suddenly your responses to his texts were delayed and dry. you were picking up extra shifts, showing up to class at the very last minute, and leaving as soon as the professor dismissed you, allowing practically no room for him to make small talk. and while he would usually pass you in the halls of the chem building at some point, you were always too far from him and scurrying away in a different direction. tetsurou did his best to give you your space, but the less he saw of you, the more nervous and frustrated he grew. there was a wrench thrown into his daily routine, and your presence had always managed to bring some peace to him. so when he realized that you had truly abandoned your usual study spot in the library a week and a half later, he set himself on a mission to find out exactly where you were hiding.

it honestly had been sheer luck that he saw your figure ducking around into a hallway he’s never bothered to go down, and by the time he caught up, the door to the graduate resource room had just closed on your and there was no way he could get in without some help. luckily, his mentor who had stayed at the university for their phd was pretty nonchalant about letting him borrow it for a few days, preferring to study at home or in a coffee shop off-campus themselves.

he knew that since you were hiding, you were probably going to be in the most inconspicuous spot possible. so while there was some time dedicated to navigating the new maze of an area, he immediately felt a sense of relief when he saw your back hunched over your notes, hair tied up into a messy bun, and your laptop open with a spotify playlist.

after you’re done reminiscing, you begin to pack your stuff up, opting to just nor respond to tetsurou and ignoring the pleasant sensation that his term of endearment for you brought. he pulls back and stands straight to give you some room, but the tapping of his foot against the tile floor speaks to his blooming agitation at your silence. you’re still wordless as you weave between the shelves to the exit, knowing that the man plaguing your dreams is not far behind. the game of ‘follow the leader’ (or is it ‘cat and mouse’?) continues until you both have exited the main door, and right before you can walk down the granite steps, tetsurou seizes the opportunity to run ahead of you and stand in your way.

“tetsu, please,” you sigh, avoiding his piercing stare by fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “is there something you need?”

“you can’t play coy with me,” he chastises, bending down slightly in hopes that you’ll finally look at him. “you know why i’m here.”

it’s a bad habit of yours to nibble on the inside of your lips when you’re searching for the right things to say. tetsurou only picked up on it just last year – the action itself is very subtle to the outside viewer, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention back then. “don’t bullshit me right now.”

“do we have to do this now?” you whine a bit.

“yes, or else i’m never gonna get you to talk to me. come on, you don’t do this, love.”

“what do you mean?”

“you’re running away. that’s pretty cowardly, don’t you think? you’ve had 3 weeks—”

you start to walk forward and around his tall, lanky figure. “i’m not humoring you with this—”

“with what—”

“—you’re doing that provoking thing, you’re trying to get me to think that i’m wrong in avoiding you—”

“so you have been avoiding me—”

“i said not now!” you protest in a raised voice, path once again blocked. tears of frustration are beginning to build in the corners of your eyes, and you’re cursing yourself for feeling so weak in this moment. part of you wants nothing more than to run into his arms.

it’s dead quiet for a few seconds – the ambient noise of the wind and the occasional passing car this late at night fail to make themselves known over the pounding of blood in your ears. only tetsurou’s first knuckle underneath your chin to raise you up grounds you, and you can no longer avoid his gaze. small crests of guilt wash over you as you recognize the uncharacteristic brokenness in his eyes – the last three weeks must’ve been much harder on him than you thought.

“just hear me out for a few minutes, okay? you can make your decision then.”

he takes your nod as a signal to continue, but also softening a bit at how nervous you look.

“i’m in love with you,” he softly confesses, a smile of defeat gracing his complexion. “and i have been for a while. i don’t think i’m bullshitting when i say i think you feel something for me, too, but i knew it wasn’t in your plans. didn’t wanna push or force you into making a decision when you weren’t ready. so i held back – but i couldn’t help it at the party, and…i’m sorry, love. i really am.”

tetsurou doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes. “so does that mean you regret it?” you bite out, nails clenching and digging into the fabric of your jacket sleeves. he shakes his head.

“i don’t regret kissing you at all – it’s all i’ve wanted to do for the last two and a half years. but i’m just sorry that i did it without your explicit, sober permission. i went against your wishes in a time of vulnerability, and that’s pretty shitty of me – i’m not gonna excuse myself either just because i was a little drunk, so i hope you’re able to forgive me.”

he watches you sniffle and fight the grin that’s trying to creep across your face. “someone had their shot of respect women juice this morning, didn’t they?” you chokingly tease.

“five shots directly injected into my veins, every morning,” he jokes back, thumb sweeping over to catch your falling tears. “but i mean it though – i’m really sorry.”

“you’re forgiven, and i appreciate that more than you know. but if i’m being honest…it was something i’ve wanted to do for a while, too. i was just really scared because it was so unexpected and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for our relationship to change, or like if i would be emotionally available enough for you, y’know?” you blubber, hand reaching up to rest against his on your cheek.

“hey—”

“i really want this to work out.” tetsurou can hear your voice shake, and he’s sure you’re almost trembling. “you’re one of my best friends – i can’t lose you, tetsu. and what about grad school? what if we end up too far away from each other and video calls aren’t enough? what if you get tired of me or—”

“i know you hate it when i interrupt, but honestly (y/n), you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. i’m gonna do everything i can to make this work, too, mmk?”

“okay,” you whisper. “okay.”

his thumb gently sweeps back and forth against your cheek for a little bit before speaking up again. “not to ruin the moment, but do i have permission to kiss you now?” his eyes shine despite the midnight sky, and you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your chest.

tetsurou swears up and down that your kiss in response is much, much sweeter than the one at the party, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for you two.

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo angst #i fully stan the fact that kuroo is highly respectful of anyone and especially women #no one can fight me on this #stay hydrated and get good quality sleep and eat some nutritious food and take your meds!!!

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un-deux-zero-quatre · 4 years

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“come be my teacher”

→ pairing: kim seokjin x (f) reader → genre: fluff, crack, if you squint it’s slow-burn → part i: 2,208 words → author note: inspired by a cute TA and my miserable effort in a korean language course while studying abroad. unlike y/n’s bold self. i never actually made efforts to get to know boys on campus, but then again i was never blessed to attend school with worldwide handsome jin. this is my first fic so hopefully you enjoy it, let me know what you think :)

(gif found on sbs website)

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You dabbed at the sweat droplets that formed on your forehead as the elevator to the sixth floor dinged to signal its arrival (fucking finally, you thought to yourself). You stepped out alongside a few other students heading towards room 605 for intro to Korean. A student sitting on the floor with his back against the windowed wall caught your peripheral. You glanced in the most casual manner you could pull off, but he was too busy looking down at his phone and you were forced to keep walking in the throng of students in the busy hallway. He looked cute, but honestly, half the campus was attractive boys that never gave you the light of day. Plus, having hiked half a mountain and power walked a large portion of your campus, the only thing on your mind was finding a seat to sink into, getting your heavy backpack off your sore shoulder, and downing the ice cold water in your HydroFlask. Not another cute boy who would ignore you. You made a beeline for a desk near the middle of the room, next to the giant windows. After not so carefully dumping your backpack on the desk table, you reached over to pull the window open, wondering why the hell you thought that wearing a long sleeve hoodie over black leggings during spring in Seoul seemed liked a good idea when you got dressed this morning. “I think my last brain cell stopped functioning the minute it started getting warmer,” you say to your deskman and friend, who is immersed in her music but gives you a sympathetic smile. Being that it was just the first week back to school, the classroom was still half empty. Most students would likely pile in gradually after managing to find the correct classroom… Yonsei was not exactly a small campus. Even local students found it difficult at times to navigate the famous campus.

You took this as an opportunity to lazily get going on the notes projected on the board. It was mostly stuff you’d get on the syllabus anyway, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a digital copy; you did have a knack for misplacing important documents when you needed them the most and you did not want to have to suffer anymore than you anticipated from a course titled ‘Survival Korean.’ Despite having lived in the capital city for a couple months, your Korean had barely progressed from being able to order coffee and read instagram captions. Err, 70% of some instagram captions. So here you were at 8:45 am on this warm and cloudy day, sitting next to your practically fluent friend, mentally playing off your anxiety about being forced to brokenly speak in front of people who probably were only taking the class for an easy A. Before you knew it the professor was calling for attention to commence the class. You barely listened but maintained eye contact and nodding confidently to assert dominance. At least thats what you thought your half-assed efforts were doing for you. “Throughout the following weeks you’ll be working closely with a group of hand selected TA’s who will help you on your weekly tasks. They have worked hard to prepare engaging activities for all of you so please look forward to their lessons.” He signaled at a few older students scattered across the wall opposite to your seat, who flashed friendly smiles or lifted their hands up to identify themselves. You scanned and your eyes fell on one boy with wispy bangs and a soft pout on his lips.

Your one brain cell, as lame as it was at times, immediately recognized him as the boy who was sitting outside the classroom before class started. Getting a better chance at seeing his features you realized he was lowkey more handsome than other boys you’d seen on campus. Everyone knew Yonsei was notorious for attractive and bougie students but you did not expect to have a TA that looked like an Oscar nominated actor. You wondered if he was as kind as his eyes presented, or if he was a case of reverse-bitch face. You were brought back to consciousness when he turned and your eyes connected. You remained expressionless when his plump lips curved upward slightly. You felt your chest clench of embarrassment and quickly shifted your eyes at other students, focusing on each one for a few seconds to play off the fact that you were obviously drooling for this stranger. Why did you feel yourself burning up? It’s not like you have never seen a pretty boy. You weren’t the type to get so worked up over that. You cringed at yourself for feeling so affected that you didn’t even notice the professor had finished talking and students were shuffling to put their stuff away.

You felt your friend poke your arm, “Dude, let’s go.” You looked up at her and slammed your MacBook shut. “Oh— yeah sure! Do you have class right now?” She looked at her phone and groaned, “Ugh, I still have a whole hour before it starts. Let’s go chill somewhere.” Swinging your backpack over your shoulder you followed her out the classroom’s back exit, lowering your gaze to fiddle with your AirPod case just in case another opportunity for you to make an ass of yourself presented itself. You snapped the case open, swinging your hair around to plop the earphone in, missing handsome boy who was standing by the podium by the front door, watching you with curiosity, a tiny smile once again on his lips.

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“I seriously cannot believe we never realized they sell kaya toast here! Why do we always play ourselves?!” your friend sighed as you trudged up the massive concrete steps to Daewoo Annex Hall. “Maybe it’s because we always insist on going off campus to our fave cafe, we just can’t help being so loyal.” The main floor was buzzing with the loud chatter of students mingling in between classes, many of them ordering or waiting for their ritualistic iced Americanos to be served. You joined the short line to order, glancing at the menu above the case of baked goods. Your mind foggily drifted back to handsome boy from earlier. You wondered if he found you weird for staring so intently. By no means did you have a resting bitch face, but your natural expression doesn’t exactly scream approachability.

Though it had only been a few seconds of staring, you recall how sparkly his eyes had been. His wispy hair framed them perfectly, and alongside his dark eyelashes it was no surprise you were so immediately entranced… You caught yourself; who can even manage to look that attractive so early in the day?! Since when did good looks even mean that much to you? He was probably an asshole anyway, using the TA position only to exert power over undergrads who couldn’t afford do much but beg for mercy during office hours and rant online about shitty policies.

You felt your nose scrunching up into a frown when a loud laugh brought you back to the present moment. Looking down from the menu to the register you noticed a wavy haired, uniform clad barista throwing his head back at what seemed to be the funniest joke in the world. He flashed a boxy smile at whoever was leaned over the bar waiting for their coffee all while his hands expertly handled the register, tucking away won bills and passing a receipt to the customer who just finished ordering.

“Wow, I guess all the cute boys decided to torture us today,” your friend whispered, raising her eyebrow at you. You couldn’t even try to argue with her, this boy definitely contributed to evidence that only attractive students attended Yonsei… kind of like how handsome boy did as well… As if the universe had heard your mind ruminating, and decided it was time to intervene, the person leaned over the counter turned to look in your direction, and you had to bite your tongue to not gasp when those sparkly brown eyes connected with yours.

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You know those cheesy rom-coms where the protagonist finally meets her true love (or whatever) for the first time and the world magically melts away so that it’s only the two of them? Or how in Bollywood movies when the heroine locks eyes with the bad boy love interest and boom, cue sensual but still cute song with perfectly timed choreography? You loved that shit but never for one second believed it applied to the real world.

So why, God why, did you feel like time had stopped the second his eyes met yours and nothing else, especially not your midday politics class, mattered? “Hey! You’re one our teachers for survival Korean, right?” Your friend’s voice cut through your bizarre cinematic moment. She had stepped forward to order while she greeted none other than mister handsome boy. Although it had felt like an eternity, only a few seconds had transpired so the odds of you looking like a blithering idiot to others was very slim. “Yeah, you have a good eye, there’s about 10 of us there,” he smiled at your friend. “Are you both in the class? My name’s Seokjin, I’ll be teaching the lesson in a couple weeks.” You friend shot a quick smile at him and turned to the barista to order. You glanced quickly at her, the barista whose name tag read Taehyung, and then back at handsome b— err, Jin.

Since both your friend and Taehyung were busy in a transaction, you had no choice but to keep the conversation alive. “Uhh yeah, we are… my name is ____,” your eyes finally settled on his. He straightened up from the coffee bar, starching his arms up and brushing the back of his head.

Fuck, he was tall.

“Are you gonna order coffee, too? Speaking of, where’s mine? Ya! Tae!” He motioned over at the register and you remembered the sole reason for you climbing a steep hill 10 minutes away from your next classroom. You mumbled a soft oh, thanks and faced back to the register to order. It looks like Taehyung had abandoned his spot to make Jin’s drink, so a kind-eyed but sleepy girl took your order instead.

Stuffing your loose change back in your cardholder you made your way over to the main lobby where your friend stood with Jin and two other boys. “Ugh, I think I’ve had enough of feeling awkward for today,” you thought as you slowed down your steps. Always a queen with perfect timing, as you arrived you heard Tae scream out Jin’s name and order and Jin waved goodbye. “See you next week! Don’t forget to pick up a good notebook!”

“What,” you deadpanned as your friend turned on her heel to stare at you with an expression you only saw when stumbling across an aesthetic new cafe.“What are the odds of us getting such a hot TA for the easiest class ever?! And he’s not a complete jerk, wow.” HA, your lips pursed out as your inner monologue from an hour ago quickly flashed in your find. “I mean, maybe now he’s nice before he actually gets to teach us, what if he completely switches up? Also excuse me, but easiest class ever if you already speak Korean only! I’m not ready to take L’s in front of everyone,” your hands ran through your hair as you plopped down on a couch. “It’ll be fine, maybe Jin can be your motivation.” If the eyes emoji were based on anything, no doubt it was your friends iconic expression. As you opened your mouth to protest she dove away back to the coffee bar for your drinks.

Blowing air out gently from your pursed lips you dwelled on what’s to come. Okay… maybe if you kept an open mind the class (and this very specific TA) wouldn’t be so awful. You did choose to come abroad to a country where didn’t speak the language in hopes of eventually becoming fluent, after all. What good would negativity do? And anyway, it’s not like Jin would be teaching the entire course, so he probably wouldn’t even be able to clock how awkward he made you act (not that you understood either, its not the first time you see a cute boy.) As your friend came back holding two iced caramel macchiatos you resolved to just be as gentle on yourself as possible this semester. You had faced high stress and lost enough sleep last semester over things that were not worth it in the long run, and the thought of handling things the same way again felt draining. Even if it meant looking like a dumbass in front of the class asking wtf anything meant after reading a wall of text, you were going to put in effort in doing well to avoid issues later on and nothing was going to distract you. Not even soft, perfectly messy hair or pretty brown eyes or pillowy lips that curled around words so perfectly you had to restrain yourself from daydreaming.

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disasterganes · 5 years

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do you mind going further on the "bryke is trash" point? i may have liked a:tla and thought a:tlok had issues, but i feel like i'm missing info or haven't thought about certain things critically enough.

i will definitely do my best -- full disclosure it’s been years since i’ve come into Close Contact™ w/ k*rra, so feel free to take with a grain of salt. it’s just my opinion, and it’s a heightened opinion because i was B I G into the fandom & show when it was dropping. i had a friend group formed through atla / k*rra before it launched, it was a real cornerstone of my online life so of course i took its bad writing way more personally than a more casual fan. i also can’t watch a show as a show? i’ve done too much work (undergrad & graduate) in writing & narrative studies, so i can Only See Story -- when it falls apart, i can’t get past it.

behind the scenes, atla likely triumphed because it was a team effort, and a bit of a first effort. not that these people hadn’t written before -- but part of what k*rra suffers from is the “how do we level up” problem that is typically answered (esp by white male writers) with make it darker. atla shone because it didn’t need to darken its tone in order to convey a more serious story -- it had room to breathe and a gentler humor that never really felt malicious in the way lok would feel malicious at times. atla was content to be what it was -- lok was always trying to be grittier than it had to be, given how well atla conveyed its difficult themes with a lighter hand.

anyway! two parts: shitty writing, & racism.

abandoning its premise

my biggest pet peeve is when a show sets up something -- and doesn’t deliver. it’s why i noped out literally s1. (and, of course, kept up quietly from the sidelines bc once i start something i’m physically incapable of letting it go. but emotionally i was gone.) in its first two episodes, lok had incredible worldbuilding. it was beautiful! well drawn! interesting! organic to the world atla built! there were problems introduced that were new and different from atla. atla read a lot like a sprawling, classic hero’s quest. falter, then triumph. lok was more intricate. in its first two episodes, it posed a question: how do you navigate heroism in a world where heroism has been redefined? how do you balance staying true to yourself and allowing yourself to grow, under the scrutiny of the “celebrity” of avatardom? and how do you perform as an avatar, the person meant to keep the balance of the spirit world, when the mortal world is out of balance? this could have been four series’ worth of content. there was enough rich, complex worldbuilding in the first episode to sustain four seasons of a show.

and then they just -- forgot about it. it was set dressing, and every half a season they artificially upped the stakes. nothing was organic to the world or the story. it was all some -- contrived plot. the conflict between benders and nonbenders could have been really interesting and then it was just -- black and white. here and gone. k*rra’s too brash and bratty to understand! and nonbenders don’t matter anyway! let’s forget about this plot and skip to some !! uh !! political upheaval! and then like! assassins and genocide or smth!! haha yeah big fights!

it was so shallow, and that’s not how the show started. in the first seven episodes, i thought i’d called the overarching. i thought the show would spend however much time it had (initially, bryke said they were only doing two seasons to “focus on a tight story” and, like a fool, i believed that this wasn’t just a cash grab :/) setting up this story: k*rra will unlock her full potential when she realizes that it’s not just the spirit world that needs an avatar, but the mortal world as well.

that’s it! that’s all you need! it’s a similar premise to atla but it expands atla. i distinctly remember the quote from one of those s1 episodes, where a nonbender says, “but you’re our avatar too.” that’s it. that’s the show. you have a show!! you have equalists, you have a bender-centric world, you have progress at the expense of those that can’t fit this new world’s design -- and then the equalists are all fake and we’re going to just brute force a solution and move onto the next crisis.

... what ?? what put the nail in the coffin for me was when the gang or crew whatever the fuck they were (spoiler alert: they were nothing, none of them liked or cared about each other) were being aided by a homeless community or w/e and b*lin jokes about a “wise and noble hobo.” this orphan. who grew up homeless. and has built himself up from nothing with his only family left. is not utilized by the writers to comment on the epidemic of poverty, homelessness, and very thinly veiled racism / ableism (another spoiler alert: don’t expect white dudes to write a coherent metaphor for a real world issue). this was the opportunity for actual depth and even darkness -- below the glittering world of republic city is a serious problem that “”””defeating the fire lord”””” won’t solve. this is a mature and complex story, and it was never ever explored. in fact, in s2 that rich dude asks b*lin if he’s “ever seen the arena at night.” and b*lin says no. the, uh, the arena he lived in bc he was homeless and crushed under the wheel of this new society.

what ,, the fuck ,, bryke.

it’s the problem where a writer is constantly trying to outdo themselves -- and they sacrifice the story they could have had. the actually mature one. it’s a problem of thinking fight scenes and a villain Bigger and Badder than the last constitutes grittiness or maturity or w/e. (spoiler alert again: it doesn’t.)

torturing k*rra

atla was a story about raising a*ng up. lok was a story abt breaking k*rra down.

shitty writing is one thing. racist writing is another. from the fucking moment she’s on screen, k*rra is told that she’s too much -- she’s too confident, she’s too loud, she’s too stubborn. and maybe she’s confident, loud, and stubborn, but the narrative does nothing but punish her for this.

a*ng is a flawed character. a*ng runs away from his responsibility and, subsequently, the fire nation takes over the entirety of the known world. do i blame a*ng for this? absolutely not. and neither does the narrative -- not in a way that counts. people in the story do, but does the narrative beat him bloody? no. the narrative gives him friends. the narrative gives him room to make mistakes and then apologize for them. the narrative lets him learn without making his failures into something that he is literally tortured over. he struggles, but in his worst and most dire situations -- his friends are there. when he dies, it’s not shown in all of its gory details, and in a beautiful, quiet scene, k*tara heals him with spirit water. they stay by his side, and a*ng is given love, care, and support.

k*rra is constantly, viscerally tortured on screen. k*rra is blamed, threatened, abandoned, poisoned, and temporarily disabled. k*rra is treated like a punching bag in direct response to her supposed “flaws.” we know this to be true because she “learns” from these moments of being violated, abused, and tortured -- the narrative tells us that she had to go through hell, on her own, in order to “learn humility.”

why did k*rra, a brown girl, need to learn humility? when did she ever come across as someone who couldn’t learn, given the kind of time and space that a*ng had? why were her lessons literally beaten into her, while a*ng’s were simply a process of trial and error, with his friends at his side every single step of the way?

people will always argue that it’s not so bad, that it’s not necessary to be as gentle with k*rra. but tell that to young brown girls watching this incredible, smart, kind, strong brown heroine get physically and mentally assaulted and broken down in order to properly “serve and save the world.” that shit? that shit’s traumatizing. k*rra is treated like garbage by m*ka, by as*mi, and by the entire world -- she is killed and tortured and isolated, and she is still expected to be grateful for what little she’s given by the end of the series.

i hate that k*rrasami is praised so highly. because it uses the lesbian card (which i carry as a member) to reinforce some really disgusting colorism and, quite frankly, shitty ass writing. bryke can’t write without a team. end of story.

that shit!! does NOT fly with me !!!

#!answered #anti lok #lok hate #bryke hate #Anonymous

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xoruffitup · 5 years

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I Once Had This Top-Quality Adam Dream...

(I just made one long-ass text post but now I’m going to make a second one, oh no....)

So I just made a post reflecting on visiting London, and then I saw a couple Sackler posts on my dash, and the two combined made me realize I really need to write out this incredibly detailed, epic dream saga I once had where I lived in a London townhouse and Adam was the landlord (literally don’t know whether to call him Driver or Sackler because he had major characteristics of both). This was like some full reader-insert fan fic shit all in one single dream, but it was SO detailed and amazing I really need to get it all out:

True to life, I was in London for grad school and looking for a place to live. I heard from classmates about a nice but affordable house in the outskirts of town where students from past year classes had stayed.

I go out to the house and meet Adam, who lives there but rents rooms in the huge place out to students. He’s dressed in scuffed jeans with messy hair and doesn’t look rich enough to own a house like this in London. When I ask, he dodgily says his parents left it to him before they stopped talking.

I move in a couple weeks before the normal semester starts, so it’s just me and Adam in the house. I live in a basement room, and his bedroom is on the first floor, right next to the kitchen. I see him coming in and out when I’m cooking. He doesn’t seem to have an office 9-5, he just does odd repair, painting, or carpentry jobs. Now and then he comes back totally grime or oil-streaked, like he’s been working under a car all day.

I’m super curious, so the first time we’re eating at the same time in the kitchen I ask him what his deal is. By now we’ve talked enough that he knows a fair bit about me, so he finally opens up that his parents worked for the US military as contractors designing navigation and other tech systems for military planes. Growing up on military bases, he learned all their specialized knowledge about both designing tech and fixing the mechanical nuts and bolts of planes, helicopters, or even ground vehicles. But as he got older, he realized a military life was the last thing he wanted. At 18, he’d come with them to an assignment at a British base, when he decided he wanted no part of it anymore. His parents had left him the house to try to stay in his good graces and perhaps someday lure him back, even though he’d barely spoken with them in years. He doesn’t outright say it, but it’s implied he learned not-so-savory secrets of their work with the military, and for moral reasons broke off from them; Leaving him as a drifter with a big, empty house in the London suburbs.

Before we really know each other, we sleep together. It’s just us in the house. He looks hot when I see him come in all dirty from some handy man job; I’m apparently a bit more level-headed and less annoying than the undergrads he usually rents to; we’re both single so why the hell not? It’s a really, really good habit for a few weeks.

The semester starts and a few other students move into the house. We’re not official or anything and Adam doesn’t seem to want the others to know he’d been fucking a tenant so the sex mostly stops. But we like being around each other, so instead of sex we end up spending a lot of time just talking in the kitchen or watching random movies together in the living room. Sometimes I tell him about my long-term career anxieties, sometimes he tells me about his unresolved feelings towards his family and his lack of direction. There’s still an occasional makeout on the couch or quickie when the house is empty, but the quiet times when we’re just talking start to become even nicer. I also casually mention my age at some point (I was 22 in grad school) and this seems to trouble him a bit. He’s only 27, but I get a sneaking suspicion that the gap makes him a bit uncomfortable when it comes to sex.

The other girl sharing the basement with me is none other than Maisie Williams. (Yes, totally weird and random but I’m not complaining.) Sadly, the three other people in the house are all annoying and/or assholes. Two of them are girls who not-so-subtly have their eyes on Adam; Seeing that he’s young, apparently single, and cohabiting with them. I almost choke on laughter a few times witnessing them flirting with him, only for him to be either completely oblivious, or disinterestedly shut them down. (He is almost a total grump 90% of the time to the other residents; When they even see him.) They do notice there’s there’s ~something between me and Adam, and they annoy me for details, but there’s nothing I would want to divulge. There’s nothing official between us, but at the same time, there is something tangible and real - Something these girls could never understand; Something of a lot more value than just casual (even if really good) sex.

The other guy living in the house is the worst. He hardly talks to anyone, until the time he intrudes into the living room late one night while I’m watching TV. Having no clue he was interested in me, he kisses me out of nowhere. He pins me when I try to pull away, and my attempts to yell are loud enough for Adam to hear from his room. When Adam appears, he pulls the guy off and socks him in the mouth, furious. “Gather your shit and get the fuck out of my house.” It’s late and the guy won’t be gone until morning, so Adam asks gently if I want to sleep in his room. I do, and for the first time we sleep together in his bed - Just sleeping.

From here on, the relationship takes a turn almost towards wholesome big brother/little sister. We spend more time than ever together and I trust him completely, even while nothing sexual happens for a while.

One night, I’m out at a club in central London when a girl I’m with had something put in her drink that makes her so sick we have to take her to the hospital. I’m really shook up; my two friends and I waiting to make sure she’ll be okay. It’s 2 AM when the doctors say we should go home while she stays the night. I can’t even think clearly about how to get home - I’m so tired and upset and worried, so I call Adam. “She drank something really bad. We’re at the hospital and the doctors say we should go home, but I-I don’t know what to do...” “Do you want me to come there?” “Yes, yes I do. Please.” When he gets there, I break down a little in relief to see him and he just holds me for a minute. After we talk with the doctors one more time, Adam puts an arm around me and says I should come home. The friends with me are as upset as I am, so Adam takes us all outside, asks for their addresses, and puts them all in cabs home. Then he holds my hand on the tube ride back to the house. Without talking about it, I come to his bedroom when we get back. In his bed, I whisper, “It could have just as easily been me that drank it.” “No, it couldn’t. Because you’re not fucking stupid enough to drink something that was out of your sight.” I look at him - His words are harsh, but true. They’re what I needed to hear. Finally, I relax and sleep, with him close.

It’s getting towards the end of the school year. I’m working on my dissertation, and I’m stressed to the max. Adam listens to me bitch a lot about it. Rather than getting bored, he tosses ideas back and forth with me and helps me develop my arguments. He even reads some of an early draft when I ask him to. He gets annoyed once, when I ask for his opinion on a day when my confidence is low and I’m talking about abandoning the whole thing. He says: “What the fuck are you even asking me for? You go to the fucking fancy grad school. What do I know?” “You know me.” We’re both quiet for a long moment - It’s the first charged moment there’s been between us in a while, since we stopped sleeping together. He takes my laptop and goes back to reading my draft.

As the end of the year nears, some of the students move out - Leaving only me, Adam, and Maisie. (Yup, she’s still there.) Adam bursts into the kitchen in a panic one day, saying he forgot there would be some kind of inspection the next day to keep his house in the renter’s market. The house is definitely not in the tidiest shape, so the three of us bust into a major cleaning spree together. It’s hot and there’s a lot of dust, so Adam starts cleaning shirtless. “Well fuck that, we’re hot and dirty too,” Maisie says, and that’s how the three of us end up cleaning the whole house without any shirts on.

The date is set when I’m going to move out and go back home to the US. I text Adam the date, and then I don’t see him in the house all week. It’s the day before I’m going to leave, he’s still nowhere to be found, and I’m getting a little pissed with him. Then one of his friends drops by the house. “Adam’s been on a job the last couple days, but he asked me to bring this by for you, and he said you can keep it.” It’s Adam’s fancy high-powered laptop - The one you both gamed or watched movies on together some late nights; The one I kept longingly saying I could make such good use of, instead of my years-old, decrepit one. When I go on the laptop (yes, I know his passwords) the first file I stumble on is an anxiety self-help document. I doubt he meant for me to see it, but it reminds me why he might be avoiding me on purpose. Why it might be too hard for him to say goodbye. I’m not mad at him anymore.

Just as I’m getting ready to leave, he shows up in the kitchen. He’s out of breath, like he decided at the last minute to try to catch me. “So, today’s the day,” is all he says. I nod, find myself tearing up a little, and rush to hug him. I hold onto him for a long time, savoring how tightly he’s holding me too and resolve not to cry. It won’t help anything. He finally kisses me long and purposefully, then we untangle and he carries my bags outside for me.

A few years pass. Even though I think of him a lot, we only text occasionally. We’d always been like that - Even though we spent so much time together and came to know each other so deeply, the relationship had never been one that translated to digital expression. I only date casually, always finding myself wondering whether he’s met anyone; Whether he ended up going back to work with his parents.

Three years later, he texts me out of the blue that he’ll be visiting Washington DC, where I live. He doesn’t give any more details, just asks if I might want to meet up. I respond within minutes: Of course.

He looks exactly as I remembered (just add a bit of a beard), and the sight of him slams me so strongly I practically jump on him when I hug him. It’s awkward just at the beginning: “Hi.” “Hi!” “You look gr-..” “You look wonderf...” “I didn’t want to get in your way if you..” “Just tell me if you’re too busy to...” Until I ask him why he’s in town, and he says it’s for job interviews. He’s still not willing to work directly for the military or the Department of Defense, but he’s been contacted by some private companies that want to use military-grade navigation systems for other uses; Systems Adam knows how to build. And then I ask him about his parents, about the house back in London, he asks me about my work, and then it all starts flowing right away again.

He doesn’t have a place yet in DC. Although he booked a hotel, I bug him until he cancels the reservation and comes to stay with me. I might have thought of him a lot over the past few years, lying in this bedroom, and I can’t be denied the chance to have him here. He keeps making gruff comments about not wanting to bother me or be a nuisance, but something about seeing my place and being there with me makes his protests stop. “I’ll just take the couch...” “No, no, you’ll stay in the bed with me.” He goes still and looks at me evenly for a long moment, then his voice is soft when he agrees. The way he’s looking at me seems different than how I remember. It’s not bad - There’s still every bit of familiarity and fondness that I remember, but there also seems to be some newly kindled spark. It’s been 3 years and I’ve grown up a bit.

When the lights go out in the bedroom, the bed seems to automatically tilt me towards him. Once I reach out first and he feels my hand brush his arm, he lets out a rush of breath and closes the space immediately. Both of us had yearned for this familiar intimacy, but at the same time the years that have passed have added an edge of novelty, wonder, and hunger. “Are you sure?” he asks in a whisper while we’re kissing. I’d missed this about him - The way he relapses into revealing how very unassuming he is beneath his shell. “Completely. It’s been years and I haven’t stopped-.... Yes.” We have sex twice.

After his interviews, he goes back home to London. He tells me the next week that he received a good offer he’s thinking of taking - A job in DC. My heart’s speeding so much, at first I don’t even know what to say on the phone to him. He’s talking some nonsense - “Of course, even if I take it, I wouldn’t assume that means anything for us... You have your own life and I don’t want to get in the way. You have so much going for you and I...” “Shut up, you idiot. Do you want the job - Not thinking about where it is?” “...Yes, I think so.” “Okay. Then you should take it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. And when you get here, we should look for a place together.” “..... I don’t know if that would be best...” “Ugh, would you stop with this annoying thing where you act like you know what’s best for me better than I do?” “That’s not what I’m doing. I just don’t want to drop back into your life and-... I just... don’t want to get in your way or hold you back...” “Adam. I thought about you all the time during the years we were apart. Yes, I dated, but I’ve never trusted anyone the way I trust you. I never will. The only reason I didn’t talk to you that much while we were apart was because I know you hate texting, and you hate writing about your feelings even more.” (He makes a snorting sound on the line.) “But don’t make any mistake - I want to be with you. I know it, and I’m dead sure of it. I’ve had three years to think about it.” “...You always were determined, when you knew what you wanted.” “And you’ve spent a long time trying to figure out what you want. Can’t you let me help you find it?” Adam’s quiet for a long moment, until: “You think I don’t know what I want? That I haven’t known this whole time? I’ll admit, when it comes to work, in that regard you’re right... But four years ago, a certain girl moved in here, and ever since then the rest of my life’s become very clear.”

And just before that assumedly happy ending is where the dream ended. :’) Thank you very much, my weird, wonderful dream-brain. I’ve been wanting to write this all out for ages - Hope one or two people enjoyed sharing it!

#idek how to tag this #?#Adam Driver #Adam Sackler #Adam Driver fic #adam driver x reader #Also this was way more fun to write out than I expected :D

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stephhannes · 5 years

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fireworks that went off too soon

i guess i haven’t really written anything since i was in new york back in may, and i promise i have a great excuse: i was sad.

when i got back from new york, i spent basically the entire month in bed. i really don’t remember anything i did, other than hope i’d get hit by a car.

i finally hit my breaking point of living in abilene. it was good for awhile, but there’s nothing for me here. the only thing that made living here for a year tolerable was being able to travel out of state every few weeks. i absolutely needed the time i spent in abilene to recuperate. i spent 10 months feeling like i had all the breath knocked out of me, but finally i started to feel like myself again. once i started to feel like myself again, i felt stagnant in abilene, almost claustrophobic- that’s when i knew it was time for me to start moving on. when nathan died, i was so afraid that when i came back to abilene i’d just be stuck here forever. i’ve never once felt like i belonged here, and when i got drawn back after i had been gone for five years i felt like a failure and like i’d never get an opportunity to escape. and then i got the opportunity:

at the end of june i did two things: drove to colorado to gone girl myself and just be off the grid for a few days, and got hired as a house manager at the paramount in austin.

my first day at work was on july 4th, i was super nervous- but for once in my life, i just walked into the room and confidently pretended like i knew what i was doing, like i was actually qualified to do something. after my first day, i realized that i’m definitely qualified to do something.

my favorite thing about house managing is that there’s a hot 45 minutes of action before the show starts, but as soon as the show goes up, everything is calm. there’s something comforting in knowing that no matter how terrible and hectic pre-show is, there’s going to be a break eventually.

after my first day, i kept texting everyone saying “i feel so powerful, someone needs to collect me, i think someone made a mistake giving me this much power.” i think most of my power comes from the shoes i bought for work that clack really loudly when i walk on tile, the other 10% comes from how confident i am in decision-making and being a leader now. which is weird, because i’ve never made a decision in my entire life.

my least favorite thing about house managing is the poverty that comes along with it. that being said, i’m out here looking for a second job so if anyone has any leads, hit me up. i’ve been so stressed for the last two weeks over buying furniture for my new apartment. look, i’m a taurus, so my home space is very important to me. every place i’ve lived in, i’ve had a clear way i want it to look and i can’t rest until it’s exactly representative of my vision. i’m moving back into the same apartment that i lived in during undergrad, literally the exact same bedroom, with my exact same roommate. some of my old furniture is still there, and i realize that i could just re-use all of it and have the same bedroom i had when i previously lived there. but i honestly don’t think my heart can handle it. i lived in austin for 12 years without nathan in my life, but no matter where i go here, i just see him. it’s hard enough driving down the street in between work and home and remembering the time we went to the taco bell cantina and then walked around campus, or the thai place that i took him the first time he ever visited me, or the apartment complex i lived in the first time he visited me. the other day, i was in a kerbey lane location that i don’t normally go to, but i had gone with nathan once, and andrew mcmahon started playing over the speakers and i almost lost my shit. sometimes even being back in the apartment itself is hard for me to handle, the first time i visited my old roommate after nathan died, i spent the night on the couch, and all i could think about was the time we’d both fallen asleep on the couch watching star wars back when he tried to make me watch all the movies.

the point of all of this being: i’m back on my bullshit and i have a new vision for how i want my bedroom to look- a complete 180 from what it used to be, but i can’t afford it and i’m about to be so anxious until i can get it to what i want.

it feels really good to be back in society, but it’s been weird meeting new people. for the first time since nathan died, i’m interacting with people who have no idea of who i am, no clue of where i’ve been or what i’ve done, and i’ve been having a hard time figuring out how much to tell people, and when to tell them, and how i want to present myself to people. there are some people that know my fiancé died, but there are some people that have asked me if i was married and i responded with “nah, but i was previously engaged” and left it at that. i hate when people ask me “what brought you to texas from new york?” i’ve completely omitted my time in philly. i don’t mention it on my resume, or in conversation because i hate that time in my life so incredibly much. i usually deflect, and say, “oh, well i was born in austin so i came back!” which doesn’t really answer the question, but it answers a question. sometimes i feel like i seem shady when i have to do these weird conversational navigations but like…. i don’t know what i’m doing. i’ve never had to do this before!

the other day at work, the coworker that’s been training me introduced me to someone as, “this is stephanie. she used to work at the daryl roth in new york city, and she’s really fucking good! i barely have to tell her how to do anything, she just knows how to be a house manager.”

and it’s true, i’m really fucking good at my job.

and i’m having a hard time accepting that i’m doing well.

when i got hired, i was so sad. i was so sad because it feels like accomplishments mean nothing without nathan by my side to celebrate with me. i remember how proud he was of me last year when i had managed to get a bunch of theatre job interviews lined up in philly, and i remember how supportive he was of me back in new york when i struggled to find a job- and i miss it so much. i feel guilty for doing well without nathan in my life. i feel guilty that in the last week, i’ve been so stressed with starting a new job and trying to pack and move i haven’t really thought about him much.

but i think that what upsets me now, is that i get it. i get the guilt that he felt so strongly back when he graduated from acu and managed to move out of abilene. at the time, i was so confused as to why he wasn’t proud of himself, as to why he felt unable to celebrate his accomplishments- but i understand now. and it’s hard for me to be able to understand exactly how he felt with all of the guilt he had after high school. i’ve started to notice lately that a lot of my reactions and thought processes have been reflecting the same ones i saw in nathan, and i’ve felt so heavy knowing that he felt like this too.

a year ago, i remember being so excited to start my new life with nathan. today, i still feel excitement to start again and to really start rebuilding my life- i’ll just always wish it was with nathan.

returning to myself has felt so weird lately. i’ve started to notice characteristics of mine pop back up, every time it happens, i ask myself “wow where is this behavior coming from?” and then i remember, oh right, this is who i am. for example, lately after work i’ve found myself with a ton of energy- i want to come home and socialize with people, which is not something i’ve felt in a long time, and i was confused as to where all of this energy was coming from. and then i remembered how one of my favorite parts of the day was when i’d get home from work and then, incredibly enthusiastically, tell nathan about everything that had happened at work. i’d come home and get so worked up while recanting my night that i couldn’t fall asleep, but i was cool with it because that was when i got to spend quality time with nathan.

long story short: i’m doing well, and i’m feeling bad about it.

the next time i write anything will probably be next month, and i’m dreading it already. i’ve got a lot of feelings now that we’re approaching the one year anniversary. it’s going to be a hard day.

for almost eight months, every single day, i would spend like an hour just running through that night’s events, reliving it. i don’t do that as often now, i haven’t thought about it in awhile, but i know that i’m going to be a total disaster on the anniversary. i’ve got a terrible memory, but i’m really good at remembering incredibly specific details of some days: i remember the shirt i was wearing, and that lady gaga’s “just dance,” was playing the day that nathan and i first kissed in 2011. i remember the way nathan’s hair smelled on that one day in english class sophomore year that our teacher let us sit and read wherever we wanted in the classroom, and nathan laid his head on my shoulder to read when we sat against the back wall together. (speaking of, the other day at work, a patron came in that smelled like nathan did in high school and i a) cried at work but b) kept scanning tickets because i’m not a little bitch). and unfortunately, i still remember, in incredible detail the night that he died.

we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

ps: there was nowhere to naturally fit this into the blog post, but while we’re on the subject of the fourth of july- i was reminded of one of my favorite memories with nathan. the first time he met my family, (grandma, cousins, etc) was two months after we’d started dating. the best part about having a boyfriend is having a plus one to all the things you don’t want to be at by yourself and the first time i played that card was to get him to come with me to the family fourth of july function. at one point, my cousin asked me to hold her baby and i was like “yeah ok, i’ll do it, but if i break your kid don’t get mad at me” because i have no idea how to interact with children. so i was holding this baby, and jokingly i asked nathan how he felt about it and he was like “i literally don’t think i’ve ever been less attracted to you,” and i was like “oh hell yeah we both hate kids thank god, this is gonna work out.”

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beardyallen · 5 years

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Well, that went quickly...

What day is it? I’m starting to lose track of how long I’ve been here...

Well, it’s been a week since my last post, and it seems that a lot must have happened, but honestly I feel like I’ve just been cranking through a bunch of comic books.

But I do know that Friday and Saturday involved a good deal excitement, so I guess we had might as well pick up pretty much where we left off!

Last Friday was Orientation for ICB, which meant getting all of the 35-40 instructors, 10 staff members, and the 6-8 people in charge of this program together in a room to introduce us to...basically what we’d been doing all that week. Also, aside from a couple study-abroad-undergrads and my officemate and me, everyone there had probably already heard the spiel.

It was scheduled from 5p-6p with a buffett afterwards, but a bunch of the Communications people from my floor were going out to eat (again?) afterwards, so I made plans with NR. She wanted to try this Mexican restaurant in what I’ll describe as the “international district” of Beijing. Most everything around us when we got there looked like it belonged in literally every metropolitan area in the world. Every major brand you can imagine had a store. Multiple. Too many...

But the Mexican restaurant we visited is owned and managed by a Mexican expat, apparently. He even stopped by our table to ask how the food was, and let me tell you: that quesadilla was the BOMB!!! And the margarita was pretty good (not as good as MHO’C’s, though!). By the time we finished up dinner, it was kind of late, so we wondered around the shopping center, found a bookstore. You know: the usual.

Fun fact: when a store or restaurant wants to indicate to their patrons that they are getting ready to close, they play smooth jazz and turn the lights down. Like for real. Had their not been windows open to the pavilion outside with it’s hundreds of light displays, I would have been seriously concerned when the lights in the place just went out and Kenny G popped up on the speakers.

We entertained the idea of finding the cinema nearby to see Alita Battle Angel, but during the 15 minutes that we spent wondering around in search of the complex, it seemed to elude us. Plus it was getting close to that time when the subway shuts down, and I wasn’t exactly hankering for a taxi ride this early in my stay....if at all.

The next morning, I got up early to meet back up with NR at the National Museum near the Forbidden City. Now, for the most part, the stairs I get don’t bother me. But I will say, if you’re going to stair at the pasty white guy with a hard-to-describe-its-color-accurately-beard, maybe don’t do it when you’re going 15 mph on a bike, facing in the wrong direction! *sigh.....Some people’s kids...

But what really bothered me, especially at the time, was the father-of-three who straight-up filmed me on his phone from 5 feet away for a solid 6 minutes, three hallways, and two escalators! I get it, I’m funny looking. But I really think I a picture would have done just fine...

One of the things that bothered me the most about that experience was that (a) he had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, (b) his daughters seemed rather embarrassed, (c) he filmed me with the screen aimed at me so I could watch myself on his phone, (d) there was text on the screen, and (e) it went on for a solid 6 minutes.

In hindsight, I was wearing sunglasses and a hat, in a subway system, in the morning, heading to the center of Beijing. Maybe he thought I was a celebrity? I had spoken to a Communications graduate student the other day who happens to be black, and he told me the story of how a citizen here pull out their phone with a picture of Samuel L. Jackson on it, and gestured to him as it to ask if it were him...even though SLJ is for sure at 70 years old and this kid is no more than 35. And he looks 25. #smh

Anyway, after dealing with whatever the hell that was, I got to visit the museum! They, for whatever reason, were not allowing people to bring their charging blocks into the museum (external battery that you can use to charge your cell phone and other devices on-the-go), but more surprising to me was just how many people carried one with them! At least, it was surprising until I took a moment to think about it. As I’ve mentioned before, basically every payment made in Beijing is through WeChat, which needs internet access, so I guess it shouldn’t be too surprising. You also really can’t navigate through the city with some sort of Maps app; there are just too many bus routes, train routes, terminals and stops to keep logged in your head.

As far as the museum itself goes, the gifts to China from foreign governments exhibit and the Ancient China exhibit themselves took most of the day. Also, no surprise: the gift that took up the most floor space was given by a U.S. President. I also got a refresher in 8th Grade Social Studies. Too many small countries to remember all of them, and that space made me feel somewhat moronic.

The Ancient China exhibit was exceptional, though. They broke up the last, oh...750,000 years of human-ish life in China into 8-10 separate eras, the first few cataloguing the life and evolution of Homo erectus pekinensis into Homo sapien, while the latter eras were segregated dynastically. I’ve never seen the progression of human evolution laid out in such detail! The rock tools became better rock tools, then pottery and paper, stamps, buildings and so much more! There were even ceremonial helmets that would put the Juggernaut to shame!

It was strange, though, to have all of this knowledge just beyond my fingertips both literally and figuratively. The literal sense isn’t too shocking, as I’ve been to a museum before and know not to touch the pieces, but to have placards written in a language that would take years to learn was frustrating. Fortunately, NR has a never-ending supply of patience, and she translated much of the text. She even quizzed me on several of the characters. I’ve worked out how to write “rock” for sure.

After the museum, we wondered over to a nearby mall that, honestly, puts the Mall of America to shame. No joke. This place was huge! It just kept going and going and going! There was a particular alley that has all of the “exotic foods” that you might see on The Amazing Race, which I haven’t tried yet but intend to, but the rest is mostly-outdoor shopping center. Our reason for being there was to find food (we had been in the museum for a bit over 7 hours), and then sit our fine asses down in a movie theater to watch Alita.

We found a restaurant that served food traditionally found where NR grew up. It was exceptional. And the beer just made it better. :P

The movie experience was something else entirely. I’ve gotten used to watching television and movies with subtitles so that, when people decide to talk to me, I can follow along with both bits. Or if people are just talking near me while I’m watching television, I don’t have to rewind the show. That helped a lot; the movie was still spoken in English, but there were Chinese subtitles. I recognized the Chinese character for “1″ frequently enough, but that was about it.

The movie itself was way more than I expected. I shouldn’t be surprised, given that one of the primary characters is played by Christoph Waltz. If you haven’t seen it yet, you should definitely consider it.

Also, additional fun fact: I’m thinking that most (if not all) showings of major motion pictures here are in 3D. *shrug* Side note: we’re going to see Captain Marvel tomorrow and I’M SO FREAKIN’ EXCITED!!!!

After the movie, we wandered back to the subway station and parted ways mid-subway-ride to head home. The next day I spent playing Kingdom Hearts 3 and sipping some beer in the 3rd Floor Lounge. All day. It was blissful.

This workweek has consisted of four main things: teaching responsibilities, a bit of dissertation work, trying out another one of the cafeterias on campus, and reading comic books. Oh, and beer. But that kind of goes without saying, doesn’t it? There’s a convenience store on the other side of the building in front of the Guest House that has cans of beer. You can buy them individual for 3 yuan, or roughly 45 cents. I won’t lie to you: I bought 12 of them and it didn’t cost me more than 6 bucks. And it’s really not bad, and even more convenient than the liquor store I lived by in Denver.

Anyway, as I said, I’m going to see Captain Marvel tomorrow, then to “W-Town” (originally Watertown...so glad they shortened it...) in northern Beijing, which sits at the base of part of the Great Wall. More than 20 people from ICB will be heading up to their on Saturday, so I imagine one of them will take pictures. Probably ML or S. So you’ll have those to look forward to since you know I won’t be taking any!

Oh!!! I almost forgot the biggest thing that happened this week! Actually, it might be the biggest news of my entire stay!!!

I did laundry.

And I washed my slippers. I’m not convinced that they’ve stopped smelling, but I’m holding out hope that I’ve finally figured out how to resolve an issue that I know humanity has been seriously struggling with for decades. I’m on the verge of a breakthrough, people, I swear!

Anyway, time to finish this beer, read a bit more of Scott Lynch’s Republic of Thieves (WE FINALLY FIND OUT ABOUT SABETHA!!!!), and head to bed. Big couple of days ahead...

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

P.S. I bet you thought I was gonna forget! After class on Wednesday, I worked out how to make a phone call from here to the States to wish my Mom a Happy BIrthday. Caught her at work, and we got to chat for a good long while. It really put a nice cap on my evening, and it seemed it gave her a good start to her day. Anyway, I hope you had a great evening, found something nice at C&B and enjoyed that glass of wine you mentioned! Love you!!

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humansofhds · 6 years

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Edwin Alanís-García, MTS ’19

“Ever since I was little I did nothing but read, and I always think, what’s the point of acquiring knowledge if you’re not going to share it and exchange it or try to dissect it with the help of others.”

Edwin is an MTS ‘19 candidate studying philosophy and religion and a writer of poetry and fiction.

Learning to Know

I’m from a small town about an hour-and-a-half outside of Chicago. It’s part of the suburbs, but it is on the edge, so it's very rural. The road leading up to my parents' house is just off the interstate and it's mostly surrounded by cornfields and soybean fields and farm houses. It’s a small and not very diverse town. Population of about 5,000. When we were growing up it was predominately white—about 99 percent white. Our family was part of the other one percent. But we were all working class, that was the one thing in common.

Both of my parents are from rural Mexico. My dad first came to the U.S. as a kid, as a migrant farm worker, and then as a young man living in New York he learned how to weld. In Mexico my mom worked as a receptionist and as a cashier at a grocery store. My dad's training led him to become a union pipe fitter/welder. It was a grueling and dangerous job, but it was extraordinarily well-paying for an immigrant. That's what enabled our family to live very comfortably.

In coming here, I think my family was trying to leave their old world behind. And it wasn't a bad world they were leaving, at least in comparison to small-town Illinois. But one side effect was that it was very isolating to be in America. Our household is like taking a slice out of rural Northern Mexico and dropping it in the middle of small-town Illinois. We couldn't assimilate well, which I'm rather grateful for despite its drawbacks. There's a trope in many immigrant narratives that the first generation kid has trouble learning English. For me it was the opposite.

I started to teach myself how to read when I was around three years old. No one thought there was anything strange about it. It wasn’t until recently that I realized it was unusual. It eventually became one of the many reasons I've always felt like an outsider. One of my most important memories from elementary school was being asked to sit in the corner during recess because I was the only kid who did our first writing assignment correctly. The teacher had to redo the lesson for everyone else. It wasn’t a punishment, but it sure felt like it.

Even the way I speak, when I tell people where I’m from, they say they can’t hear a Chicago accent. I think it has to do with the way I acquired language, which was mostly through an old dictionary and an encyclopedia set my parents got from a grocery store. There was nothing else to do in our town, so I just stayed inside and read. Evidently that did something—for better and for worse.

Leaving Home

As an undergrad I studied philosophy and psychology. I probably would have been better suited for English, which was surprisingly one of my least favorite subjects in school, along with math. I was definitely more interested in the sciences, especially biology and astronomy. It’s kind of painful to say, but coming to literature wasn’t really my dream, but it feels like where I was rightfully placed. I didn't view language as what I was passionate about and loved. I think my success with it was more a product of a weird background and a disordered mind.

After undergrad I did a few years of grad school in philosophy, but after that I didn’t really know where to go. Job opportunities in my hometown were very bleak. They're still bleak. People kept telling me that I should apply to MFA programs in writing, so I applied and got in to a few schools. I was totally shocked. That moment was the beginning of the biggest shift in my life. Where I went to undergrad was a campus literally surrounded by cornfields. Then suddenly I was living in Brooklyn and going to school in Manhattan.

Emerging from the subway for the first time, I had never seen anything like it—so many people. I have bad anxiety in big groups, so it took a while but eventually I got used to it. Culturally, though, the biggest adjustment was class. The cost of living in New York is astronomical. While I was studying there, maybe 150 students passed through our program and out of those students only about 3-4, including myself, came from a working class or low income background. It was the first time ever in my life I met people who said that they had gone to Ivy League schools for undergrad. I always thought that was something that only happened on TV or in books. I had to learn that there was nothing mythical about it.

Cambridge is the quintessential college town, and I feel very at ease here. Growing up, my world was a dictionary and an encyclopedia set, and now I have access to the world’s largest university library system. I can socialize and have a nightlife if I want, and be socially active, or I can keep to myself and camp out in the library if I need to. It feels like I have more options here to go my own way.

Getting to HDS

There are three things that led me here. The first was my general interest in philosophy, especially epistemology of religion. Ever since I was little I never had faith. I went to church but I didn’t understand why we were going to church. It felt like religion was one of the rare domains in which it's explicitly acceptable to believe in something against the evidence. This isn’t to say that reason and argumentation are not used to defend religion, especially with philosophers like Aquinas and especially with contemporary analytic philosophers of religion like Alvin Plantinga. They give well-reasoned arguments for religious belief. Even though I don’t agree with them, it's interesting to hear their approach because I'm more in line with that tradition. But what I am fascinated by are the traditions that don’t follow that path, that say there is something other than just evidence and reason, like experience and faith. Views like pragmatism and fideism. I'm not really on board with these views, but I think they say something important about the nature of belief. Not just religious belief, but belief in general.

What brought me here on a more personal level happened when I was doing research for my MFA thesis. I was researching the city of Monterrey in Northern Mexico, the region where most of my family is from, when I found out that the first European colonial settlers there were conversos, or Sephardic Jews who had converted to Christianity. I knew nothing about this history and no one in my family knew about it, either. I wanted to learn more about this vein of Jewish history because after DNA testing it was confirmed that my family has a significant percentage of Sephardic ancestry. So, part of what I am here to study is this hidden history of people navigating multiple worlds: There’s the Jewish thread that's been partially erased throughout history, and the indigenous thread which has been replaced by the more romanticized Aztec/Mayan civilizations, which don't actually seem to be causally connected to the indigenous tribes that existed along the borders. There's a lost story here, and I'm hoping to find out more about it and hopefully write about it.

The final moment that led me here, that pushed me to studying religion and philosophy, was a craft of fiction class at NYU taught by Zadie Smith. Zadie assigned me to give a presentation on Kafka and Kierkegaard; as soon as I started rereading those authors, I realized that I wanted to return to philosophy, but through the study of religion and literature. Zadie was very supportive and encouraging in my decision to come to HDS, as was Chuck Wachtel, my mentor and advisor at NYU. I wouldn't be here without their support.

Bearing Witness

I didn’t think there was anything ethical about the literary world until I had the opportunity to take a poetry workshop with Jorie Graham last semester. The workshop was amazing, and completely changed my outlook on art and language and really everything. I'm slowly getting over my discomfort in regarding myself as poet. I would've quit writing if not for that workshop. I'm now starting to see writing as a moral activity.

I think my most worthwhile poems aren’t the ones that I purposefully sit down to write; they just sort of come. And often it’s through this emotionally charged rant. My workshop saw it as bearing witness. I was pointing out a classed segment of society—the literary world. There's this willful ignorance that's led to the unfortunate political situation that we’re in now, and the fact that I’m even referring to the situation now is in itself problematic because most of the problems that are being discussed now have always been issues. For example, years ago I wrote a novella that took place in an ICE facility near Brownsville, Texas. In the story, the facility was in a gutted former Walmart that had no walls, only chain link fences, and all the prisoners were children. Then two years later ICE actually built this facility.

I don’t think there’s anything supernatural about this story. To me, it's all just about paying attention and seeing certain patterns and adopting an absurdist sensibility. But this led me to realize that if there's a pattern in society that I'm picking up on, then perhaps writing about it becomes a moral imperative. That’s kind of how I see writing poetry and fiction. I'm fascinated with this element of prophecy in fiction. And apocalypse. Jorie stressed that apocalypse actually means an unveiling. Not just an end to things, but a revealing of truths.

I never did anything with the novella because it was actually really bad. My classmates and instructor were phenomenal, but I was too immature of a writer at the time. Now people keep telling me that if I went back to it, rewrote it, it would get published. But that’s just because it’s timely. I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing that. I don’t want to give this false impression that illusions of representation, and bearing witness to the suffering of others, and simply pointing out injustice—that this all somehow absolves writers and publishers from the evils of society. And I think if the publishing world wasn't interested in this topic back then, in a few years it probably won’t be interested in it anymore. But the problem isn't going anywhere. If that’s the case then maybe we have a moral obligation, especially being in a position of privilege, to always and consistently be critical of ourselves and the powers that be, no matter who they are. The suffering that exists on their watch is ultimately suffering that exists on our behalf. We are all complicit in that.

Returning to Society

I would like to apply to PhD programs and see how that pans out. In any case, I would love to teach. That’s one thing that I discovered at NYU—that I love teaching. It doesn’t matter if it’s at a university or a high school. I'd like to mentor young writers. Shout out to the young artists and translators at Still Waters in a Storm in Bushwick, Brooklyn. They taught me how to be a better listener and to pay better attention to the world. That's probably the most important skill for a writer.

Ever since I was little I did nothing but read, and I always think, what’s the point of acquiring knowledge if you’re not going to share it and exchange it or try to dissect it with the help of others? It reminds me of the prologue to Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, where Zarathustra says that he's meditated alone for so many years that his mind has grown heavy from his thoughts. He needs to return to society to share them. Can't just hide in the library anymore.

Interview and photos by Anaïs Garvanian

#harvard #harvard divinity school #religion #chicago #literature #nyu #reading #mexico #philosophy #large

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jennagill · 6 years

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Message Not Sent

@jeeno2 reblogged this post (source), @deinde-prandium kindly encouraged me, and @papofglencoe was sweet enough to catch my comma errors. Thanks for the nudge ladies!

Everlark drabble - bad language, so rated M?

---

“You going to the department holiday party thing?” Gale Hawthorne asks in my general direction.

He is my academic twin, or that's what they call us. Same advisor, same class schedule, and very similar thesis tracks even though he graduated undergrad two years before me. We’re both Dr. Beetee’s prized students, each plucked from the masses of applications for his research team. We even sit side by side in the Research Design course every first year geography grad student has to take, no matter what subdiscipline you study. Physical, cultural, political, climate, medical, or media geography, we all have to sit through it.

I turn to my left to see Peeta Mellark, another first year but polar opposite in studies. He looks up from his reading and adjusts his glasses to see if the question was addressed to him. “Free food and drinks? Yeah, I'm in. What about you, Katniss?”

My eyes flit to Madge Undersee, on the other side of Peeta, and she's already nodding.

“Yeah, sure, I'm in. Just as long as I don't get trapped in conversation with Dr. Crane or one of you will have to rescue me,” I say.

“Agreed,” she smiles. “No one should have to endure that—I don't know how his students take him seriously.”

“No kidding, that guy creeps me out,” Peeta says.

While Gale is my academic twin, I think Madge could be Peeta’s actual identical or at least fraternal twin. They have the same sunny disposition, fair complexion, striking blue eyes, and light hair that's in direct contrast to myself and Gale. We make for an odd group, but most grad classes as like that at the university—attracting students from all over to study under the most prestigious academic leaders.

“Great,” Gale grunts. I'm still not sure if he was asking me, Peeta, or Madge, but it seems that we're all going now.

---

The department has gone all out, renting out the roof of the microbrew pub across from campus. It's a chilly Sonoran night, but there are outdoor gas heaters staged between tables across the space to keep the party guests warm. A hot appetizer station is flanked by the bar, both with long lines. Strands of twinkling lights hover above, giving the otherwise Spartan patio a festive feel.

I catch my reflection in the glass partition and am satisfied with what I see. My favorite hunter green sweater draws out the silver in my eyes, offset by the loose waves of my dark hair. It looked so nice earlier when I pulled off the elastic around the tip of my braid, I just shook it out and added a dab of lip gloss Prim gave me.

I’m lost in the memory when Peeta’s shining face appears on the other side of the wall. He's also dressed in a dark shade of green, but something's different tonight. I've always felt a pull toward him, from our first handshake in the quad. Between our vast differences, shared ideologies, and limited class interactions, I find myself doing the one thing I never set out to do—get close to anyone. I spend a lot of time with Gale out of necessity, and competition for Dr. Beetee’s attention. With Peeta though, it feels more like a choice to want to be around him—one I gladly make time and time again in this first semester of grad school. It still feels like a surprise though when I return his warm smile and tilt my head for him to join me on the patio.

“Hey, Everdeen, you made it! Did you finish your exams?” he asks.

“Yeah, so fucking happy about it too. Did you?”

“Yep, and glad for it. Abernathy's essay was a bitch though. I'm going to make sure he gets good and sauced tonight before he grades it. Are you going home for the holidays?”

“I am, tomorrow. I need to catch the airport shuttle though.”

“Oh, when is your flight? I'm leaving tomorrow as well, midday. You could ride with me.”

“Okay great, that'll save me a little money—thanks!”

“It's a date then,” he grins.

Gale and Madge fight through the crowd just as we've settled our schedule.

“What's a date?” Gale asks, shifting his eyes between Peeta and me.

“Oh, Peeta is taking me to the airport tomorrow—we both fly out around the same time,” I supply. “Did you two get food or drinks yet?”

“No, we just ran into each other coming up the stairs,” Madge explains.

“Wanted to make sure there were allies here first before settling in,” Gale says.

“Well I'm starving, how about we split up—you two get food and we’ll get drinks and meet back up here. A blonde for you and a stout for you?” I direct towards Madge and Gale.

“Yes, please,” she replies and tugs Gale off toward the food before he can object.

“What's with him?” Peeta asks, cocking his head in Gale’s direction.

“You mean the overprotective brother act? I don't know where he gets off on it,” I explain as we skirt the crowd. “I mean, I get that we’re like siblings here. We’re always competing, and he's always so demanding on himself, on me. He sends these gruff texts, gah. I should show you some time.”

“Sounds awful,” Peeta says.

“Yeah, but it usually ends there. We just work together for school.”

---

A few rounds later and many successful attempts at avoiding the creepy professors, Peeta and I are back in line for more drinks.

“Did fucking Johanna Mason cut in line? This line seems like it's getting longer, not shorter!” I shout, over the crowd.

“Katniss, shhhhh,” Peeta laughs. “She's not that far away! And yes, she most definitely did,” he snickers and leans into me. “I think she's getting a drink for Thom too.”

“Hmm,” I press on him to see the pairing over his broad shoulder, since that would be quite the interdepartmental gossip.

I gaze around and just about everyone seems to be feeling the effects of an open bar, myself included. Peeta smells good too— I absently wonder if he used cologne or aftershave. He’s always so fresh in class, but tonight he's exuding a different pheromone. Good thing I live just off campus and can walk home from here.

“Want to get out of here? I mean… go to the downstairs bar?” I stammer when I see surprise light up his face. Glasses! That's what's different about him tonight, he's not wearing his glasses. “Maybe there's a shorter line?”

“Um yeah, that's a good idea,” he agrees and lets me lead him away from the party.

“So no glasses tonight?” I ask, navigating the stairs.

“Ah no, figured I'd spruce up for the party.”

“Well you look nice,” I blurt out, and a wicked grin spreads across his face.

“You are beautiful tonight too, always beautiful,” he says, and I know the rosy glow spreading across my cheeks is more than the Hefeweizens I've had tonight.

We weave through the thinner crowd downstairs to the bar when I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I fish it out to check the text while Peeta orders another round.

WHERE

ARE

YOU

GUYS

I scowl at my screen, re-reading the burst transmissions again and verifying the source. Gale. Gah. I told him we were getting more fucking drinks, right? I start typing my response.

WE’RE

FUCKING

“Hey, can you carry Madge’s? And here's yours,” Peeta says as he steers two more beers toward me.

“Hang on a sec, gotta finish this,” I say and scramble to finish my reply. Punching ‘send’ on every word like he did to amplify my irritation.

GETTING

DRINKS

And I shove my phone into my back pocket to help carry the beers. We move slower through the crowd to get back to the stairs, careful not to spill. We reach the top riser, and I feel my phone ping again.

“Hold up, I wonder what he fucking needs now,” I grumble.

WHAT THE FUCK

“‘What the fuck?’, what does he mean, ‘what the fuck’?” I think aloud as I read and re-read the message. I look out from the stairwell and can't see where we left him and Madge. I scan the screen again. “Oh fuck.”

“What is it?” Peeta asks, concern creeping across his face.

“Apparently we’re fucking!” I laugh, hastily placing the beers down so I don't drop them.

“Oh are we now?” he says, setting down the other beers.

“Yeah, the last two texts I sent didn't go through...so all he got was ‘we’re fucking.’”

Peeta barks out a laugh and we catch ourselves in a fit of hysteria.

“Well how bad am I that you're texting while I'm fucking you?” He asks through chuckles.

I'm hiccuping through my giggles now. “You must be pretty fucking terrible!”

“And how can we be fucking if we haven't even kissed yet?” he asks with a more serious tone.

A shift in energy rolls over me, taking in his words and piecing together their meaning. “Well, you should definitely kiss me first,” I say, all traces of humor vaporized. Emboldened by the alcohol buzzing through my system, I lean to his lips.

And it isn't terrible at all.

#I write stuff #everlark drabble #holiday!everlark

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our-beginnings · 6 years

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Kim Crayton, Multipotentialite and founder of #causeascene

Kim Crayton works for herself. She is the founder of the #causeascene movement and a proud multipotentialite: a strategist, educator, consultant, writer, public speaker, mentor, trainer, curriculum designer and advocate for diversity, inclusion, and safe spaces in tech.

Thanks very much for doing this! I’ve been a Twitter fan of yours for a while.

No problem! I’m going out of my comfort zone a little more these days.

How so? What are you up to lately?

The videos I’m doing, calling stuff out, asking questions, starting conversations that we need to have. We’re not going to improve our communities until everyone understands that this is going to be uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable, how?

Learning is uncomfortable, period, and we need to stop devaluing the learning process. Self-reflection is hard. Anything which allows us to become better people is going to be hard, and we need to stop looking for simple solutions to complex problems.

So I’ve been just trying to test the waters, see what kind of pushback I get, what kind of support I’m going to get.

Have you gotten any responses that you’ve been surprised by, good or bad?

I’ve only had one negative experience, and that was just someone who wanted to force me to apologize for something I wasn’t going to apologize for, so she got really belligerent. But even when there is pushback, I can frame my response in a way that prompts them to reflect, and people often say, “Oh, your approach made me safe enough to think about this and I recognize that my response was not thoughtful.” Sometimes on Twitter, you miss the nuances of communication, though, and I really try to craft my message. For example, a guy pushed back against one of my Tweets and I responded, but I didn’t engage him in conversation because I didn’t think it would be a productive conversation.

Did you set out to engage in these conversations?

This was not a planned approach— I kind of fell into this. But because of the background and experience I have, I am perfectly able to have these complex conversations in a unique space. I do a lot of conferences, and my third or fourth slide is always my credentials, because I know that someone in the audience is already thinking, “Why should I listen to this Black woman?” Last year I did 19 conferences, keynoting 5 of them, and I felt like I’d earned my right to be on that stage sharing my opinion.

But I shouldn’t have to earn that. I have a masters degree. By the end of the year, I will have a doctorate in business administration. I know this shit. Many underrepresented individuals don’t have these credentials, and it enables me to say what I need to say and shut a lot of stuff down, without people questioning me.

my third or fourth slide is always my credentials, because I know that someone in the audience is already thinking, “Why should I listen to this Black woman?”

I’m also very adept at guiding conversations, because I’ve been a high school teacher. I’m used to reframing the conversation and bringing us back to the problem. I recognize defensiveness, attempt not to take it personally, and I structure my comments that allows me to say what I have to say, with an exclamation point, and I’m done. I control it.

What are some of the biggest problems or misconceptions you’ve encountered?

How people don’t understand how privilege affects marginalised people. I like to start with a definition of underrepresented and marginalized. Underrepresented is about numbers: there aren’t enough people. Marginalized people have been treated unfairly, and this doesn’t include white women. While they aren’t treated like white men, they still benefit from privilege, and until we can have an honest conversation about that, it will continue to be a big issue, particularly in the Black community and communities of colour. We say “We’re making progress with women in tech,” but we’re making progress with white women. Everyone else is falling behind. You invite a population of people who have already been mistreated into a community that continues to mistreat them, and they will leave.

We say “We’re making progress with women in tech,” but we’re making progress with white women. Everyone else is falling behind.

You cannot be my ally until you allow me my truth. White women historically have used their privilege to fall back on, and I don’t have that luxury. So when you say you’re an ally but you respond to me and make it a personal attack, how do you not see the disconnect there? I say this in my talks when I’m talking about white men who are my allies; I call them my League of White Men. They appreciate my honesty, and they have the keys to everything, so why not use them? Why should I break the door down when they have the ability to open it. I’m not blaming them, but I am holding them accountable. They didn’t create the system, but they do benefit from it.

You cannot be my ally until you allow me my truth.

Why do you think we’re so focused on finding someone to blame, rather than trying to re-learn how we speak about these things?

I can’t answer that, but what I’ve observed is that, in work disagreements, when the Black woman or person of colour doesn’t back down, they’re “being aggressive,” or “being defiant.” White women seem to fall back on emotion, thinking that we’re attacking them. They become intimidated and scared. That reminds me so much of Jim Crow. What it unconsciously communicates is a showcase of privilege. I have some wonderful white women who are my allies and they recognize that they do this. But they look at my videos and go “oh shit, I need to make sure I’m not doing this.” It’s not about blame; we’re not going to get the perspectives we need to improve our communities and organizations without listening. Right now there’s a lot of “you can talk, but don’t say that.”

At conferences, I talk about being a female in the south, and received feedback that I was “politicizing it.” It’s like inviting someone into your home and treating them like shit, and then wondering why they’re grabbing their coat and getting ready to go!

[Difference in perspectives] matters for ROI; it’s not political, it’s business.

And that’s just talking about gender and race. There are all kinds of other perspectives — people with disabilities, LGBT people. You have to at least have some perspective of their experience to create products and services for them. This matters for ROI; it’s not political, it’s business. CEOs don’t have to care about inclusion and diversity, but they can put the structures in place and get out of the way to allow the employees and partners and the people who do care to make something great. The CEO doesn’t need to understand or care about diversity to throw money at it and watch it do great things. You’ll see your customer base change, your employees change, your profits change. THAT will change the CEO’s mind. It’s about operationalizing diversity and inclusion. If people don’t have the resources or autonomy to drive change, then what have you done?

CEOs don’t have to care about inclusion and diversity, but they can put the structures in place and get out of the way

Sometimes, the best thing we can do is just get out of the way, and resist the urge to throw tech at everything.

So many people in this space do not have that skill. I hate the term “soft skills.” If my talk is related to tech, it’s a technical talk. I have very technical skills, ones that developers and UX designers do not have. My ability to communicate with people is devalued because I’m not writing code. If your only skill is coding, then you’ll be obsolete very shortly. There are other skills that you need to have: critical thinking, problem solving, and if you can’t do that, then there’s no need for you. The people with my skills will always have a job in this space. Humans will always need to be navigated.

Is navigating this space this where you expected to find yourself when you were younger?

Hell no! This didn’t even exist when I was a kid. I’m 49 soon, and call myself a proud multipotentialite. Growing up, I’d do something, get good at it, and move on to the next thing. People thought I was flighty and unfocused, but that’s helped me a lot.

I never saw myself as a producer of tech, but I just solved my own problems.

I’ve always been more than your typical consumer of tech, but I’d never seen myself as being a producer of tech because nobody in my community was talking about that. Although I had a computer before a lot of people I know, a lot of that came out when I was adult. I have an undergrad in interior design, so I used CAD in the 90s. When the new tech came out, I would buy it and be interested, but not just as a toy. Specifically, when Apple would have their keynotes, I watched the developer one because I liked hearing why and how they made what they did. When I wanted to build a website, I would google how to make one and follow Youtube videos. I never saw myself as a producer of tech, but I just solved my own problems.

So what made you take the leap?

In 2014 my dad died, and that was my greatest fear— dealing with the death of a parent. At the time, I was a teacher, but I was not happy. I thought, “OK, my dad died, I didn’t. Fuck it, I’m going to do what I want. I’m ready to stop being scared and jump off the cliff.” I went to Maui for a week after the services and I sent a text to a friend: “I’m leaving education and I’m going into ‘tech’” . The “tech” was in quotes, because I had no clue. I just thought I’d figure it out.

When I came back, being a Black female in the south suddenly became an advantage because people wanted me to go to these tech events. When I went to my first Javascript conference I didn’t even know what Javascript was. In theory, my next step should’ve been to learn to code, but I didn’t. As an educator, I have a real problem with how we teach coding, especially with underrepresented and marginalized people, because we’re spending money on programs that don’t work. When it comes to teaching, we need to teach computational thinking, and then allow people to go into whatever area of tech they choose to.

My first talk was at ScotlandJS in Edinburgh in 2016, and I did 2 or 3 more that year. I was figuring out that I didn’t want to code, but I had skills, and was finding how best to communicate that people were missing the boat. At that point, I was working on my doctorate, and I sat down every Sunday and at minimum filled out 10 CFPs. There were many I didn’t get, but by sheer numbers, I caught a few! I started going to Python, Clojure, Angular, Ember, Ruby conferences, DevOps days.

All of a sudden, I became this inclusion and diversity person and I was really pissed about what I was seeing. People want to hear me talk, but they don’t want to pay. They want consultancy, but they don’t want to pay. This goes with the hashtag I’ve been using, #causeascene. I’m passionate about bringing underrepresented and marginalized people to the business table. We need to stop being reactive, like with #TakeAKnee and #MeToo. These issues matter, but what is the strategy for effective change? You get outraged, and then you don’t hear about it once something else is in the news. People get upset, but nothing changes. Instead of being outraged and reactive, I want to be strategic and proactive. We need underrepresented and marginalized people people at the business table, so we need to teach them about business strategies. That’s what @biz4socialchg is: helping underrepresented and marginalized people understand the structures and systems that need to be in place to grow a business so that you can be at the table and you cannot be dismissed.

Was there a specific moment when you decided that this business-based strategy was what you wanted to hone in on?

Recently! When I grasped the business focus, the puzzle pieces came together and I realized I had a unique perspective. I saw that we could improve our communities and orgs by applying business practices. The open-source community is not sustainable. Node, for example, is not healthy right now. It’s blown up on Twitter a few times and at some point, there’s going to be a moment where the stuff you’ve ignored is bigger than the stuff you can save. There will be a tipping point when the codebase starts reflecting all of this, and that means you’re not getting enough issues, enough pull requests, enough people from enough backgrounds looking at the code. This creeps into the code of all of the organizations using node, and affects their business. The lack of diversity will have a ripple effect throughout tech. The issues may not show up in the codebase today, but business leaders will see them in a few years when it impacts their customers’ experience and their data, and they’ll be liable.

Now that I’ve realized that’s where I can create change, I’m so excited about it. What I want to do is make business school education available to the masses, particularly so that underrepresented and marginalized people can build scalable businesses.

Do you ever feel pressure to be a role model in the way that you are?

I would if I hadn’t had my experiences in education. Particularly being a special-needs teacher, I had to take on a family role as well, educating families on the system and how to maximize that system for their child. I really believe in self-care, because this space can be very toxic and I have to make sure my mental and physical health are paramount. At the end of last year, I was neither happy nor right, and now that I have found the space, in tech, that works for me, it's easier for me to focus on me.

This is especially true as a Black woman in the United States. People don’t realize just how much of the country’s success has been achieved on the shoulders of Black women. I no longer am the “strong Black woman.” I used to take pride in that because I thought it meant something. But now, I know it’s an excuse for people to use me. I am very aware if I don’t want to do something, and I’m honest about it.

With this new outlook of yours, how do you see your next five, ten years? What are you most excited about or afraid of?

At this point, I’ll be 50 in a year, and “no” doesn’t exist. I’ve been saying this a lot recently: I don’t care what your opinion of Trump is, but you can’t say he’s not confident. I gave myself permission to be confident, but I balance it with empathy in all the other skills I have. That level of confidence has allowed me to say “fuck it” and just do what I want. I unapologetically take up space, and it’s so freeing and cathartic!

I gave myself permission to be confident, but I balance it with empathy in all the other skills I have

I don’t have many fears. They’ll find me, so I won’t focus on them. But before, when I was speaking, I got burnt out quickly— five countries in a month! I look forward to traveling the world in a way where I can go to these countries and enjoy them, and not get right back on a plane. I want to enjoy my life! I just want to have fun. This is one industry where people can make a shitload of money, and I want my part of it, and I want to enjoy myself. I add a lot of value to the community and I want to make sure I’m living my best life.

Thank you, Kim, for your time, thought, and invaluable insight. It was an honour to chat with you!

Find Kim on Twitter, her website, and learn from her on Periscope.

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brynprocrastinates · 7 years

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10 questions tag

Tagged by @an-author-in-progress (on my main account)! Again, I’m still getting like seven of these a week, so I can’t reasonably get through them all. I’m sorry to everyone I’ve had to skip!

1.) Was there ever a time when you thought about quitting? What made you keep writing?

I pretty much quit writing during my last two years of undergrad. I didn’t stop in the sense that I never wanted to write again, but I had gotten so caught up trying to edit my novels to perfection while still working on the first draft that I never finished a single one in ten years of writing, and it finally wore me down.

A particular book (which shall go un-named) inspired me to write again during my last quarter before graduating, and I decided at that point that I wanted to work my way into becoming a professional full time author. I’ve been writing (or editing) 6 days a week since.

2.) What is your favorite word?

According to my CPs, my favorite word is a toss up between soft and smirk... (I have actual favorite words to say based on their sound but I can’t think of any of them at the moment.)

3.) Who is your person? (aka the one person you let read everything)

@thewritingoctopus is the first person to read everything I write, usually in the unedited junk stage.

Some other people who I will forever throw my manuscripts at and cross my fingers that they have free time: @gingerly-writing, @typeaadventures, @byjillianmaria, @theemdash, @muffindragon227, @prycarious, @sieryn, and a few more people I’m definitely forgetting.

4.) If you had to pick one of your characters to bring to life, who would it be?

Honestly, I would bring to life a particular role play character only @thewritingoctopus knows about, because he’s an absolute sweetheart and also has bad ass magical powers, so I’d have a cool friend who wouldn’t try to kill me but we could also use his op powers to help make the world better.

5.) What is one sentence to describe your current WIP?

TWLC: It’s a toss up between:

The unwilling heir to an empire tries to stop his father from making a dangerous contract with unnatural forces in order to gain more power.

When a coveted supernatural force reappears on the borders to two dangerous empires, a warlord’s son must commit treason to prevent the continent from plunging into a war of gunpowder and magic.

Pearl: A siren with a paralyzed tail teams up with a pirate captain and a mechanic in order to take down their mutual enemy in the midst of a brewing war between sirens and humans.

WAWAM: Three teenagers must stop an ancient vengeful deity from rising out of a volcano and decimating their island, all while navigating the harsh tension between the island’s human and monster residents.

6.) How do you kick writer’s block to the curb?

I talked about this here!

7.) Is there one thing that will never cease to distract you from your writing?

My cat. She’s just much too cute.

8.) Do you try to think of titles for your works before, during, or after writing the work?

I try to think of them as soon as I start outlining, mostly because I know it very well may take me the entire writing process to actually come up with something I like.

9.) How long have you been working on your current WIP?

TWLC: Eight-teen long, long months.

Pearl: Ten months.

WAWAM: I started outlining it last month, but I’m not planning to actually write it until 2018.

10.) If your main character had a theme song, what would it be?

Vasha: King by Lauren Aquilina.

Pearl: Oceans Brawl by Coeur De Pirate.

I don’t have one for the main character of WAWAM... she doesn’t even have a name yet either...

#tag games

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a-travels · 4 years

Photo

taken: 4 jun, 2017 Shree Chamundeshwari Temple, Mysore, India

three lefts make a right

Just to get it out of the way, no I don’t think the monkey is sucking his thumb. I’d like to think it held it there specifically to pose and look all pensive for the shot. I’m definitely good enough to get a wild monkey to pose for me. Finally, a purpose for my monkey-like sensibilities.

I’d like to think of myself as a perfectionist. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, and it’s certainly not my response to the classic, “Tell me a weakness about yourself” interview question, though I do think sometimes it actually is. But I’ve found it is often a great strength of mine, and I think is a strength when harnessed in the right way. I mean not even just for myself, but I think there is incredible value in catching small details, seeing things that someone else might miss. Sure, sometimes it can be irritating to others, seeming like you’re nitpicking, pointing out the smaller details that an ordinary person may not notice. I’ve always been taught to go the extra mile in whatever I do and I think that eye for detail really has helped in that pursuit in many regards, though to my mother’s chagrin, I may sometimes go “too far”.

Whether it’s extra time or extra effort or a little less sleep, to me I can’t rest till I know I’ve done everything to my level of standards and quality. If it’s a powerpoint, I will sometimes belabor for hours making sure the fonts, spacing, colors, formatting, animations, figures, everything is right. Even if I may hate the assignment, even if I hate myself for spotting every small detail that needs to be made just right. Hell, I had a 2-minute presentation to make for my CT Scans of vertebrates class in senior year of undergrad and I spent 2 hours on a figure that was perhaps useful for 20 seconds of dialogue? Credit where it’s due, I was still very proud of it, comparing the different sizes of saber-tooth lions, cross-referencing the sizes of the animals, making my own scale, being able to relatively scale them by holding a ruler up to the computer screen. I made it minimalist and chose the colors, I added shadows because I’m insane, and for what? It’s not like that figure alone was the determinant between an A- and an A. The rest of my presentation was solid and I probably would have done well anyway. But yet I did it anyway. I can’t probably explain to you why, but at the time, I knew I wanted a graphic showing the sizes of the different saber-tooth lions (since my project was a CT scan of a saber-tooth lion skull) and that there were no good ones available, and the one that was available was small, low quality and grainy. In terms of thinking it through, I probably didn’t. I thought my presentation’s quality would be worse and I spent the time to fix it and make it better. (Also I think I’ve beaten this image to death so you might as well see it if you're curious, just click here)

I think it speaks to my larger desire/need to do things “right” and do them “right” the first time especially. Honestly, at this point, I’m sure you see all my posts and think I’m a psychopath worrying about bothering others, being right, being genuine enough (tbh I’m probably a bit insane). Point being, my detail-oriented mindset speaks to the larger need to want to do something “right” or be “right”. In my head, I know that pursuit of perfection and “rightness” is just a fool’s errand⸺no one can be right all the time. Ha, well you better believe I know I’m not right. I know this in my head, I know I can’t be “right”, I know I’m often not, and yet I still feel this nagging compulsion to try for it anyway. Mind you this doesn’t extend to everything; I don’t think this ever extended to my grades, I never shot for or wanted to be a valedictorian or something, or wanted to be the best martial artist or swimmer. It was specific things, here and there, and I can’t really describe what made something different or want me to be “right”. It probably is one reason why I keep thinking about self-correcting messages, if I said the “right” thing or not, from two posts back.

You see the quotes around every “right” I write? That’s because “right”, as you know is often subjective. It means different things for different people. The “right” flavor for someone in a dish may be for less spice than in mine, or more spice, or more salt. I think that makes things all the more challenging because navigating the realm of options and finding my “right” is half of my battle. It’s almost definitely why I think I’m so indecisive. I was literally deciding where to go to college until 10 minutes before the deadline. And that’s the heart of the problem: in my pursuit for being “right”, I tend to delay.

That combination of a detail-mindset with constant drive to work hard is a potent combo, one because always working and fixing details is probably exhausting (I get exhausted from my own way of being), but also because I think that mix can result in the drive to work but to the level of quality and detail that I like to work towards. And then there’s me, the detail-mind but perhaps less driven. I don’t know if it’s a lack of drive, but the best way I can describe it is a kind of lethargy. “Wait.” “It’s not right yet.” “I can’t do it now, it won’t be right.” I often find myself pushing things off and waiting to do something. Like just yesterday, I put off writing a paper all Thanksgiving break thinking of all the details I needed, comparing it to the details other sample papers had and would end up going down rabbit holes, till I realized last night I never actually started writing the damn paper. Maybe not a decision per se, but the same holds true with decisions. Though, when I do make a decision, I own it, I stick with it, and I do not tend to regret it. And I think that’s the upside to working towards a “right” choice, that if the due diligence is there, then you can rest easy with the choices you make. Where it goes astray is when you don’t have the luxury of time with an action or a choice, which is almost in every scenario.

For some time recently and even now, I’ve been wracking my brain over doing something. And I apologize if I sound cryptic, but I told myself to wait till the moment was “right” to do this “thing”. My own doubt around doing this continues to bounce around my head and I don’t know if I’ll ever know if there’s the moment to go for it and do what I want to. But for now, I just sit like this monkey, waiting, for the moment when I think it is “right”, or for that time when I wisen up and realize that there never will be such a perfect, “right” moment like I seek.

Life doesn’t work in such an idealistic way where you get to be “right” or do “right” all the time. Life is not always “right”, and yet I strive for it, as I know others do (I think. I hope?). Life gets its color from being a bit messy and wrong. If everything was “right”, there wouldn’t be evolution, there would be spontaneous creation (which I guess is the basis of creationism⸺the idea that we are “perfect” and were made that way and not actually a series of millions of years of failed random chemical and biological experiments). I know it’s ok to be wrong, not perfect. I know I’m far, far, far from a perfect human being (I can’t say definitively if I’d make it to The Good Place), but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to work towards being one. Just because you can’t be “right” doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try, right? I don’t want to necessarily stop being detail-oriented, but I think I need to be able to discern when I need it and when I don’t.

tl;dr - wait, am I right?

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facesofcsl · 5 years

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Fatme E., Student (Honours Human Geography)

My CSL journey started in my first year of university. I think I saw a poster or an email about it and was like - “Wow that’s so cool, I definitely want to get my CSL certificate!” - I was such a keener! CSL really stuck out to me as something I wanted to pursue in my degree, especially the certificate. I was already so interested in making connections with other non-profit organizations and CSL provided that median and made it easy for students to make those connections. So yeah, it felt like a really great way to supplement my learning and make the most of my university experience.

The ties between my degree and CSL were less about what I was learning in school and more so towards what I wanted to be doing after my degree and what I was hoping to get out of my degree once I graduated. CSL gave me so much exposure to non-profits, and a really great idea of how rewarding the work is. I think without taking CSL, or CSL components, I wouldn’t really have known the realities of the sector. It often can be really romanticised - you’re going out and doing good work that’s helping people all the time. But CSL taught me about the work - it gave me a realistic idea of what that looks like and insight into areas I’m interested in. CSL gave me exposure to things that aligned and expanded my own personal beliefs, morals and interests.

One placement I did was with Elizabeth Fry Society. That was really incredible. They didn’t expect us to do a project for them or have this specific output. Instead, the goal was just to learn the realities of the law court and the struggles that women experience when navigating the justice system. And that one has stuck with me throughout my entire degree. Coming into university I had wanted to go into law school after my undergrad but after doing this placement I realized that that wasn’t for me, that I wouldn’t enjoy working in the system. So it’s interesting how the placements have both changed my pathway while simultaneously providing me with new paths. They’re really pivotal.

The experiences with CSL have also helped me to get internships! Being able to add the CSL placements onto my resume is so important. They’re valid experiences and with known organizations that everyone recognizes.

I’m also doing the Non-Profit Board Internship (NPBI) right now. Every board meeting is different! I'm with the Edmonton Multicultural Coalition. I just presented my project idea to the board and they all loved it so much, it felt really nice to be appreciated and to know that I’m contributing my time in a way that will help the board continue to succeed in years forward. It’s different than I thought it would be. I feel like I’m seeing the realities of what non-profit boards have to deal with. It’s great experiential learning.

My favourite moment with CSL is the CSL 350 class I’m in right now. All of my placements have been so incredible, but this class is probably my favourite course throughout my entire degree. It’s so different from anything else. It’s cool being taught how to do research before we go out and do it. And it’s really helping me in how I approach my honours thesis, I wish I had taken it last year. It’s changing the way I think about research within the institution of the university. It’s helped me to understand my perceptions of what’s good research and what’s bad research - not based off of how many readers you have or how many publications you have - but based off of how engaged and involved the community is. It’s changing how I’m thinking about ethics. I’m not even halfway through the course and everything’s changed in my mind! I’ve always felt uncomfortable with the idea of researching and not involving the communities at a deeper level and this class has shown me that research can be really involved and meaningful and still be really good research!

In the future, I definitely see myself working with non-profits in some capacity. I’m really interested in the art and creative world. I’d love to be working with galleries in some way and making them more accessible to people and increasing the representation of minority artists in galleries. Also engaging with people to help them create their own work that is meaningful to them and that genuinely shares their story. So I guess my interests are engaging with communities in a way that makes them feel like their voices are being heard. I just know that I want to be working with people and amplifying their voices and I see that being done either through non-profit work, or through the City of Edmonton or some type of creative institution.

CSL has changed how I interact with people in my day to day life as well, how important it is to treat others, and myself, more kindly. We’re so quick to focus on the negative and CSL has taught me that focusing on the positive can just bring out positivity. And we often think that if we think about the negative then we know where we need to improve, when often times it’s just self-deprecation. I feel like I’m learning a lot and it’s just going into every facet of my life.

#facesofcsl #ualberta #UAlberta CSL #ualbertacsl #university #community service #Community Service Learning #human geography

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mylifeasavetstudent · 7 years

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Nerves About Ross

6/22/17

I heard I was accepted 3 weeks ago, but I’m still waiting to hear about whether I start in September 2017 or January 2018. I should know within the next 5-6 weeks - which could give me only 3-4 weeks to get ready and move down there.

Trying to get my thoughts in order, here are some of the logical and illogical things I'm scared about in regard to starting Veterinary School and in regard to moving down to St. Kitt’s. I’m sure some are normal and shared by most students, but I’m sure some are me just being a whiny 23-year old New York girl.

_____________

1) Packing. (Overpacking, underpacking, forgetting). How am I gonna fit everything in two suitcases? I plan to use vacuum seal bags and bring the two biggest overweight suitcases and a carry-on that I can. I just keep thinking about all the bulky stuff - kitchenware, bedding/pillows, shower/beach towels, steel-toed farm boots, shoes/clothes, toiletries, makeup/hair/cosmetics, electronics, books/school supplies. I went away to undergrad college about 30 minutes away and lived on an on-campus dorm/apartment for 4 years. However, I was in a big city, and could easily get anything I needed down the block. I was also so close to home, that I often went home on the weekends, and could pick up anything I needed. Also important to note that I could use Amazon, unlike St. Kitt’s. Every time I moved in/out, it took about 2-3 car loads of stuff!

2) Buying textbooks/school supplies.

I guess I should wait till I get to the island to get books? Do they have a school bookstore? Will other students be selling them? I worry if I wait till I get down there, I won’t be able to find them.

Should I order them in advnace and pack them? I worry this will take up too much space/weight in my suitcase. Should I order them in advance and have them shipped to St. Kitt’s? This would probably be super expensive, and what if they take too long to get there or go to the wrong location?

3) Buying a car (getting license/insurance/mechanics, etc.)

When should I buy a car? Second semester? I’m worried I’ll be taken advantage of and pay a lot of money for a really crappy car. I’m nervous about driving a dangerous car. I’m nervous about going through all the processes of getting a license, insurance, legally buying the car, etc. I love my US car and I’m gonna miss it and hate leaving it at home for a few years! I’m also terrified to find a reliable St. Kitts mechanic, since I’ve heard horror stories about being overcharged and taken advantage of. Mechanics who “fix” your problem, but purposely create more. Criminal mechanics who steal your car and sell parts. Agh.

4) The bus system/traveling.

Super nervous about figuring it out and navigating it while I don’t have a car yet. What if I get stranded in some bad area alone as the sun sets?!

5) Food shopping (bugs, giardia).

I've heard horror stories about food on grocery store shelves being rancid and expired. I’ve been told to check the dates on everything before buying it - even milk and cheeses. I’ve been told about boxes of pasta full of bugs and peanut butter full of worms. I’ve also heard there is giardia and mycoplasma in the tap water? Definitely scared of that. Is this true of bottled water or other drinks?

6) Bugs/centipedes/spiders/ticks.

I am terrified of bugs. The pictures I see of giant spiders, moths, and aggressive, hard-to-kill venomous centipedes in homes/beds/clothes give me absolute nightmares. I’m also scared of ticks and tick-borne diseases due to all the outdoor activity.

7) Living arrangements.

The uncertainty here is killing me. I know I'll be living in a dorm my first semester, but that’s only 3 months. And will I be living alone? With 2 roommates? 3? How do I apply? I’m nervous to be living alone - but what if I get roommates I hate?

8) Wild animals/monkeys/sea animals/hiking.

Are there dangerous wild animals? What about the monkeys? What about in the ocean? Are there aggressive fish/octopi? Do I need to worry about jellyfish? Sharp sea urchins? I know there are a lot of great hikes - but I'm an inexperienced hiker. Do I need to be scared of animals on the trails? What about tick-borne diseases? What about being robbed/attacked by humans on the trial? Or getting lost in the woods with no cell signal? I don’t even know what clothes to wear or what hiking shoes ARE! HELP.

9) Personal Safety/Being burgalarized.

I’ve heard that as long as you are generally street smart, you should be okay. But I also hear horror stories of native drug deals gone wrong right near St. Kitts students - of guns shots and murders. I’ve heard of armed car jackings, robberies, rapes. I’ve heard of break ins and burglaries. Definitely nervous about personal safety. Even if just my STUFF is stolen - I’m so nervous I'll lose expensive items, as well as personal valuable like photos and class notes. I’m investing in personal property insurance that extends to St. Kitts, as well as external hard drives to copy all my stuff. Do I need to buy a pocket knife or mace or something?

10) Cell phones.

I still don’t really understand this concept. So I can bring my iphone, and simply put it in airplane mode and turn on the wifi? That way I can use iMessage, email, Facebook messenger, WhatsApp, viver, etc. for phone calls/text - but, it will only work when there is wifi around. This way, I won’t be charged an exorbitant amount for international cell service. Should I stop paying for my phone plan?

I’m also told you’re given an old block phone from Ross for calls to other students and businesses on the island.

11) Massive debt.

Yep. Probably gonna be in $325,000 of debt and start at $40,000 a year while I have clients scream at me about how rich I am and don’t care about animals.

12) Failing out.

Definitely scared of vet school being “too hard” and failing out. I know I’m a good student and I’m planning to study my ass off - but this fear is still there.

13) Living on my own.

Like I said, I lived about 30 minutes from my house for four years in undergrad college. I could go home on the weekends, and ask my mom for help with anything. I lived on campus, so I had maintenance and security staff always present. I never lived off campus. I also lived with 1-3 roommates every year, and always shared a bedroom - so I was never completely alone.

14) Making friends and knowing no one.

Definitely a big fear - but everyone else seems to manage it, right? I guess when you’re all in a completely new country with no friends/family, everyone’s a bit more open.

15) Logistics - setting up a bank account, loans, FAFSA, paying pills, receiving monthly loan allowals, visas, passports, customs, flights, vaccines.

SO MUCH TO DO.

16) Rabies vaccine

It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it? What other vaccines do I need? Can I get them on the island? Is it cheaper?

17) My dog.

My dog is 13 with CKD. I’m terrified that when I get on that flight, it’ll be my last time seeing her. ):

18) Mail system.

Seems very complicated and expensive. I’ve heard people dig through your personal mail right in front of you. And SO. EXPENSIVE. Also gonna greatly miss amazon.

19) Disease (Zika, HIV, Lyme, parasites - vaccines)

Definitely scared of getting some crazy topical diseases that we don’t have up here in NYC. Definitely scared of parasites - is that gorgeous water there safe to swim in? Not just the oceans/seas, what about lakes? I don’t need some crazy vagina parasite swimming into me or accidentally swallowing some giardia. Or is just the drinking water dangerous?

20) The health system (getting insurance, birth control, allergy shots, hospital visits)

Trying to figure out how to continue my birth control and allergy shots while I'm down there. Apparently my birth control is $4/month over the counter down there. Apparently Ross Health Services can administer my allergy shots, but I’ll have to bring the refrigerated vials down from NYC with me, and have them changed out every 9-12 months. God knows how much that would cost to ship - might be cheaper for me to just fly up and back and get em!

Definitely nervous about the quality of health care and emergency health care down there. I heard chickens roam the hospital. Hoping to get all my general/preventative care done on my breaks back home.

21) Being okay with “island time” (everything being closed)

I’ve lived my entire life in a busy city - nothing closes, ever. Weekends, nights, holidays - there’s always somewhere I can stop and get food/drinks. Adapting to there being no drive throughs or quick delis to stop into when I had 5 minutes before class is gonna be rough. And so is realizing that by 5pm on a Friday, I’m screwed until 8am on a Monday for any business I need to go to or contact. Especially dreading this with a car breakdown.

22) Not being able to find things from the US (Certain drinks, snacks, cosmetics)

Again, this is just something I’m gonna have to adapt to - but I will miss it!

23) Deciding when I can afford to go home.

I have no idea if I should go home after every semester? Is that something people normally do? Or once a year?

From what I'm reading on flight websites: It’s gonna be about a $400-600 flight ($1000-1200 round trip), take about 5 hours (10 hours both way) and need to have 1-2 stops. With the stops, it’ll be about 7-22 hours one way (14-44 hours round trip). Ugh.

24) Not taking advantage of all the great opportunities/trips available.

I’m scared I’m gonna be so overwhelmed with classes and exams, that I’ll miss out on some of the great extracuricular activities, clubs, sports, games, hikes, etc. Or the great “vacation” trips abroad available on breaks.

25) Second semester - rent, laundry, landlords, safety, finding roommates.

Definitely scared of moving on to second semester and out of the dorms where I'll be pressured to find a safe, convenient, cheap apartment. I’ll have to move all my stuff (how? rent a car?), pay bills, pay rent, deal with a landlord, all for the first time in my life. And I’m definitely scared about picking the “Right” roommates to live with.

26) Restaurant food/native food

How is the food there? I’m unfortunately not a huge seafood fan, but not averse to trying the native food. However - is it safe? Should I make sure I ask for no ice (water parasites)? Is there a possibility of undercooked meat/seafood or spoiled/expired meat/seafood? Is there a possibility of parasites in the food?

27) Hobbies

I’ve been going to school part time and working full time the past year, and I haven’t participated in any of my hobbies in over a year. I love learning foreign languages and I love horseback riding - and I haven't had time (excuse excuse) or money to do either. I worry this will just continue on in veterinary school, as I’ll be even more stressed, and have even less time and less money. Is there even any horseback riding availability down there? I mean, I can’t really pack all my language books (guess I can do a lot online), and I definitely can’t pack all my riding stuff (boots, helmet, clothes, saddle, etc. etc.)

28) Fun one: So when do I change my blog name from mylifeasaPREvet student to mylifeasaVETstudent? I also think I’m gonna start a website blog about life on the island - no only for future nervous students (like me right now) - but for my friends and family to see via Facebook. Don’t exactly wanna share all my tumblr info on Facebook! Best website for a blog?

#ross #ross vet #rusvm #ross university school of veterinary medicine #st kitts #st. kitts #st kitts and nevis #st. kitt's #vet school #vet student #rossie #rossies #advice #help #Caribbean school

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femslashrevolution · 7 years

Text

I Am Femslash by SETI-fan

This post is part of Femslash Revolution’s I Am Femslash series, sharing voices of F/F creators from all walks of life. The views represented within are those of the author only.

I was very surprised and touched to find out I’d been suggested as a femslash writer by readers to contribute something for this celebration, especially since I came out so late in the game, relatively. So, I decided that might be a topic worth discussing in itself: the role of femslash in my long journey to discovering who I was.

I read and see so many stories about lgbt+ individuals coming out in their teens or early twenties and knowing early on they were “different”. My situation wasn’t nearly so straightforward. I didn’t figure out how I identified until I was nearly thirty, and even then it still took some self-analysis to piece out what I wanted. This process was made a lot more complex than it should have been thanks to one particular speed bump:

My physical sex drive didn’t kick in until I was about twenty-eight. Nothing is medically wrong with me as far as I can tell, I just always was a late-bloomer, physically, socially, and apparently in this respect too. Don’t get me wrong, I had crushes in high school, but they were of a very PG-13 variety. I thought kissing could be fun and longed to hold hands and have sweet dates like I saw in the movies and TV shows, but when it came to the idea of sex? Ugh. I actually remember crying as a pre-teen when my mom gave me The Talk and explained that’s what happened. I had never had anything bad happen, it’s just like some part of me already noped out of that from day one.

(In retrospect, I’m very grateful I didn’t end up with any of the guys I crushed on in high school. Younger me…didn’t have the best taste and liked the idea of rehabilitating a “bad” guy with a good heart. Yes. I was that cliché. Thank you, life, for saving me from myself.)

Anyway, so in high school I wasn’t ready and in undergrad I was so preoccupied with school, work, and family drama at home that relationships weren’t a priority I thought much about. By grad school, I finally started feeling ready to give dating a bit more priority, but the old road block was still there.

Sex still didn’t sound remotely appealing. In fact, in many ways, it sounded repulsive.

I started thinking that I just hadn’t found the right person. I figured if the emotional side was there, then the physical side probably follow. If I really loved the guy, maybe that made the rest happen more naturally, or at the very least maybe I could at the very least tolerate sex if I didn’t end up enjoying it particularly. After all, I definitely found some guys handsome and had great emotional connections and blushing feelings with some. Maybe that could develop into more. The few unsatisfying dates and unrequited crushes I had didn’t get me any closer to wanting to explore that option, though.

Now, as this internal debate had been going on, my mom came out as a lesbian and I started acknowledging that option as being out there. I knew I had aesthetic appreciation for both men and women, I knew I tended to pay more attention to female characters in fandom than male ones and didn’t tend to go crazy over the actors everybody else did, but without the physical desire to reinforce things, I couldn’t tell where the line was drawn between just interest and attraction. But I quietly opened my mind to the possibility maybe I was a little bit bi, or at least okay with the idea that whoever I fell in love with could be in any gender’s body. I started getting flirted with by girls at conventions, and was flattered and intrigued, but nowhere near ready to take that step and actually make a non-straight move.

So how does all of this tie in with femslash? Because it was ultimately fandom that led me to a better understanding of what I wanted.

While I had kind of jokingly enjoyed a few slash ships in the past, the first one I actually seriously shipped was Princess Bubblegum and Marceline on Adventure Time. It started the same way I had with past non-canon slash pairings, “man you can find interpretations of scenes to make any pairing work with a bit of creativity”, but then the show actually was going there and it worked for these characters and I was in. The fandom was gifted with talented writers and artists who took the little hints and allusions the show slipped past network regulations and built gorgeous backstories and complex relationships for these two.

Unlike many people in fandom, I avoided smutfic in general. (See again my feelings of revulsion about sex.) But when writers I knew and enjoyed included scenes like that in their Bubbline fics, I stopped skimming past them and decided to go with it because their storytelling overall was so good. And then I started reading purely smut stories by writers I liked. And a little voice in my mind started saying, “So that’s what everyone’s been talking about all this time.” Suddenly, instead of thinking “don’t want to do that, ugh, maybe could tolerate that”, I was thinking “I’d try that, that sounds cool, ooh I want to try that…”

I’d never wanted to try anything before.

Around twenty-eight years old, the physical side of attraction finally kicked in, likely helped along by the coaxing in these stories, and to my great surprise, it only kicked in for girls (and a range of nonbinary situations that are more case-by-case since I dig androgyny too, but I’m going to oversimplify a bit here before this becomes an even bigger essay since the focus is femslash). I’ve tried reading straight erotica and felt the same lack of appeal. I can still find guys handsome and imagine kissing or cuddling with them and enjoying emotional relationships, but when it comes to going any farther than that, I recoil.

But suddenly it was like I was given permission to let in the feelings that, when I think back over my younger life, were honestly there all along, just muted and unrecognized. Heteronormativity, yes, but made harder by the lack of a sex drive too. The signs were there, I just didn’t have the libido to reinforce what I was thinking and give it that full meaning. Femslash let me tentatively explore that world before I was ready to take the first steps toward actually asking out or accepting an invitation from a woman in real life. Baby steps into allowing myself to feel those things.

And then the new Ghostbusters and Holtzmann hit me like a ton of bricks and I’ve pretty much just leapt off the cliff at this point, cheering all the way down. (Huge appreciation and apology to my best friend who’s had to put up with me turning into a teenager at thirty-one and tolerated my fangirling patiently. I’m leveling out some, I promise.)

Femslash opened that door in a way no other erotic fics or content ever had before. It’s stories about female sexuality written by women, for women. It was a perspective I hadn’t encountered before (especially since I wasn’t going to talk with my mom about her own personal experiences that way and the only other gay people I knew were men). It included women my own age talking about coming out later and discovering yourself and negotiating female-female relationships. And there are so many writers using it as a way to expose young and/or inexperienced readers to important concepts on healthy relationships, like navigating when mental illnesses affect one or both partners. Or how to communicate through emotional times and express your needs without shutting down and distancing from each other. Or even just the safe ways to explore kinks and how to provide aftercare and discuss boundaries and consent. God, the inclusion in some of these stories of how communication and consent don’t take a thing away from the passion and sensuality of the moment is incredible and should be part of every young person’s education on how to be a good sexual partner. I know not every fic is written to be realistic and healthy, nor should they be, but it’s so nice to see people using the medium to provide healthy role models as well, not just pornographic fantasy.

So yeah, I’m still at the beginning of my journey into embracing this new development and find someone to have a real-world relationship with, but the door is open now and I’m finally comfortable exploring those interests and I feel like I’m not going into this world completely blind and naïve. And I finally want to pursue a relationship like that instead of vaguely dreading it and hoping things work out okay. I don’t have to settle. I know I can find happiness and experience a physical relationship to its fullest. Femslash did that for me. I’m sure it’s done that for a lot of other young women. Hopefully most didn’t have to wait as long as I did to find that peace with who they were and what they wanted in life.

About the author:

I’m a biology teacher, writer, and artist who first experienced fandom as a 12-year-old obsessed with Star Wars and joined the internet fandom at 15, back at the turn of the millennium. I’ve been writing fics (under this same screenname) ever since and think I’m finally starting to get decent at it.

http://seti-fan.tumblr.com http://archiveofourown.org/users/SETI_fan/ https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2430050/SETI-fan

#seti fan #I Am Femslash #Femslash February #Femslash February 2017 #Type: Meta #submission

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danielcooperrp · 5 years

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They Fuck You Up

A drabble for @msppctts

When Daniel’s parents ask him to come into the living room, he thinks that they are finally, finally letting him get a puppy. He’s been begging since he was six, but he’s ten now, practically an adult. He’s clearly responsible enough for a dog, so when he enters the room, he can barely contain his grin.

The grin turns slack when he learns the truth. We love you more than anything in the world, his mother tells him, gripping one of his hands in both of hers with tears in her eyes. We chose you because we love you. You complete our family.

His father is more stoic about it, not that Daniel is surprised; his dad favors logic over emotion. Still, his voice quakes when he tells Daniel, You may not havve come from us, but you are ours. We want you to know because you deserve the truth, but don’t think for a second that you are not our son.

It’s a shock, at first. He may be the first ten-year-old high school freshman in his school’s history, but he’s still only ten. He doesn’t cry about it—what’s there to cry about? Lots of kids are adopted—but it still follows him around, a tiny, constant reminder that he is never going to run out of ways to be different than everyone else.

And then, of course, being adopted is the least of Daniel’s concerns. Just a year later, he stands beside his father, ironed into a too-stiff black suit, watching a shiny mahogany box be lowered into a hole in the ground. He doesn’t cry about it—crying can come later, when he’s safely locked in his room, when his dad doesn’t need him to be strong—but he does make a silent promise to the mom who will never playfully tug on his curls again: You and Dad are the only family I will ever need.

So he works harder, longer, reads every piece of scientific literature his dad leaves lying around the house, and he graduates high school at just fourteen, with straight As and a mouthful of braces, his father and grandmother, who pats his cheek proudly and calls him Bumblebee, are the only family at the ceremony. Brilliant, he’s been called, a prodigy, and yes, he’s about to be shipped off to England, because Oxford is the only university that seems to know what to do with him, but even as the plane is rolling down the tarmac, all he can think about is the offer his father made after graduation. It was a closed adoption, he had said over dinner at Daniel’s favorite hole-in-the-wall Italian place, but if you want, we can start looking.

He spends a few weeks thinking about it as he settles into the room in his boardinghouse. He doesn’t know what legal hurdles they’ll have to jump through to find out the names of the person or people who gave him up, and he doesn’t know if the jumping will be worth it. What can learn that he doesn’t already know? Someone was pregnant, and he was an unwelcome presence in their life. His parents, the people who raised him, the people who knew exactly what combination of soup and ice cream he wanted when he was sick, the mother whose gravestone now sits an ocean away from him, the father who tried his best to pick up the pieces after her death, they wanted him, chose him, carved out a space in their life specifically for him.

He tells his father no. He doesn’t cry about it.

University is a whirlwind, too many classes, too many hours in a lab, too many eyes watching the American whizkid breeze his way through undergrad, through the Master’s program, through his doctorate. By twenty, he has his Ph.D., biochemistry, and he’s back on a plane, flying home to the father who now feels like something of a stranger to him. Now more than ever, Daniel is determined to show his dad exactly the kind of man he’s become, one who is just as dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge as he is, one who wants to make his mother proud.

Almost as soon as he touches American soil, he’s shaking hands with everyone at his father’s lab. Lernaean Laboratories, the logo at the top of his offer letter reads. How many hours did he spend here as a child, not even tall enough to see atop the lab benches, so close in his father’s shadow that if he stopped too fast Daniel would bounce off of the back of his knees? His father’s career in this lab, for Hydra, has been the blueprint for Daniel to follow, the legacy for him to inherit. He falls into the work as easily as stepping off the T in the morning, quickly assimilating into his research team and getting to work. His efforts don’t go unnoticed; soon, he’s leading a team of his own, doing the kinds of experimental research he’d only dreamed of back in England.

And then, as it is wont to do, everything falls apart. Hydra is no longer the vague parent company of the lab to which he and his father have dedicated their careers; it is a fascist shadow organization, a parasite lurking in legitimate government organizations with the almost cartoonish goal of reshaping the world into their authoritarian vision. Daniel’s entire worldview is flipped upside-down on a dime, and as the truth of his research, of his father’s research, of his life spills out for the entire world to see like some messy tabloid drama, all he can think is, Did Dad know?

Of course he did. He was naive to think otherwise. For as brilliant as Daniel is, he has never had the cognizance his father has had, has never been able to navigate the world as deftly. Of course his father knew exactly what he was doing, what he was contributing to, and of course he has an answer to every question Daniel hurls at him as they fight in the same living room where all those years ago his life was upended for the very first time.

You’re a monster, Daniel croaks, the ache in his chest so profound it’s a wonder his ribs don’t crack. And you’ve turned me into a monster, too.

When he stumbles back into his own apartment, bone-weary and limp, he collapses onto his bed, and he cries about it.

The next few weeks pass in a haze. He has no job, no prospects, no relationship with his father. His roommates, best friends made across the pond, two other too-smart Americans too good at finding trouble where they least expect it, do their best to cheer him up, but all of the RuPaul’s Drag Race in the world isn’t going to make him suddenly able to face himself in the mirror.

He doesn’t know what sparks the interest, what first gets the question rolling in his head. One night, he googles the phrase closed adoption, and then immediately closes out of the window. A few nights later, he tries again. How to open a closed adoption.

So the search begins. Two searches, really. The first for his birth parents, the second for a lab that will hire someone with a stain on their résumé like his. Much to his surprise, the latter is easier to find; within a year of his life falling apart, Daniel is hired on to work at the organization that he once viewed as the enemy: S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s rough there, of course, because no one trusts him, and why should they? These days he feels like he can barely trust himself to keep his shit together.

When it comes to his birth parents, however, it’s not so simple. The lawyers can only do so much, and there’s only so much he can afford. He briefly considers a private investigator, but feels too icky about it; he doesn’t want his birth parents to think that he is more interested in his own curious self-interest than their privacy, even though he definitely is. He still isn’t on speaking terms with his father, but somehow he finds out what Daniel is up to, and the rift between them only widens. So what, I’m not good enough for you anymore? he snaps over the phone to his son. You have to go find your real parents?

It would have been less painful if he had just slapped Daniel across the face.

It’s his roommate Connor’s suggestion that solves the puzzle. So many people are doing those online ancestry kits these days, and even though Daniel is extremely skeptical of them—what exactly are they doing with his DNA once they’re done with it?—he sends of a vial of his spit and waits. A few weeks later, he logs into an online profile to see a list of distant blood relatives who are also curious about where they come from. The closest relative, he is pleased to learn, is a second cousin: the cousin of one of his birth parents.

A few phone calls later, and he’s driving out to Long Island, where his second cousin lives, along with most of his extended family. Over lunch at a sub place, Daniel learns that his second cousin has a cousin who was in college in New York in 1989, the year Daniel was conceived, and who, according to the family grapevine, may have gotten knocked up by some trust-fund kid from Uptown Manhattan. Everyone is pretty certain that there was a baby, but no one knows what happened to it.

Just to twist the knife, this guy Daniel has connected with via the Internet then lays on the bad news: his cousin died three years ago. Ovarian cancer. If she really was his mother, he’ll never get to know her.

Her name was Chaya.

So he gives up. He goes back to Boston, back to his life, and tries to forget about his quest. He redoubles his efforts into his research, convinced that if he works hard enough, maybe, maybe his new coworkers will stop hating him for being Hydra scum.

And then one day, just a month or so after his twenty-eighth birthday, he receives an alert email from the DNA company. A new relative wants to connected with you! Even as he reminds himself not to get too excited, Daniel eagerly opens up the website, where he starts chatting with some guy in New York. Another second cousin, it looks like, but on his father’s side this time. There is less mystery around this one; this new relative only has one cousin, only one person who could be Daniel’s biological father.

You’re never gonna believe this, kid, he writes. Daniel waits with bated breath for the next message to come in. My cousin? Tony fucking Stark.

There’s a buzzing in Daniel’s ears. He stares at the screen, seeing nothing. More messages come in—You know, Iron man? Hello? Kid, you still there?—but Daniel is long gone, sinking into a feeling unlike any he’s ever had before.

Holy fuck. His father is Tony Stark.

He sits with this. For a long time, he sits on the information, not breathing a word even to his best friends. He wakes up, he goes for runs, he showers, he heads into work, he talks to no one, he comes home, he sleeps. Day after day, he lives his life, but for weeks, there is only one thought preoccupying his every waking moment: My father is Tony Stark.

He doesn’t google him. He doesn’t have to. Everyone knows Tony Stark, billionaire tech genius, war profiteer-turned-superhero, the guy who flew through a wormhole to save all of Manhattan. He’s in the news enough that even the most casually engaged citizen can’t help but keep up-to-date on all of his escapades. To think that he came from that...if this isn’t evidence for nurture over nature, he doesn’t know what is.

Eventually, though, the processing has to stop and the decision-making has to start. He has this information now, and he needs to figure out what to do with it. Going to him seems laughable; how many people must have tried to claim that Tony Stark was the father of their child over the years? Everyone knows what kind of guy he was when he was younger, why couldn’t it be true? Does he try to get a lawyer? That seems hostile right off the bat, but how else would anyone believe him unless he’s willing to put his money where his mouth is?

He doesn’t get to make up his mind. He’s on his lunch break, up on the roof of the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility in Boston—technically speaking he’s not supposed to be up here, but the idea of going into the giant cafeteria full of S.H.I.E.L.D. employees who hate him is far worse than any reprimand for being in a restricted area—looking down at the bustling city below, when suddenly, he doesn’t feel very good. He sets his ham and Swiss sandwich down and clutches at his head. What is happening? Slowly, he lowers a hand in front of his face, and with a mixture of confusion and awe, he watches as the tips of his fingers start to dissolve into dust before his very eyes.

And then the world goes black.

When he wakes up, he is immediately overcome with the certain sense that something is wrong. He sits up, and his lunch is gone—didn’t he just put his sandwich down fifteen seconds ago? He stands, and when he peers out over the edge of the roof, he is stunned to see his beloved city in ruins. Garbage lines the streets, and buildings are falling into disrepair. When he looks down onto the sidewalk below, it’s filled with people who are looking around, just as confused as he is. They touch themselves, and each other, and even though he can’t hear them, he knows they’re asking the question, What just happened?

Life after the Hulk snapped everyone back into existence is messy. Half of the world has lived five years of their lives that people like Daniel just...weren’t there for. Of the people in his life, only his roommate Connor and his grandmother survived, which casts an icy grip around his heart; he lost five years with his grandmother, his mother’s mother, five years that he will never get back. His English bulldog, appropriately named Hulk, because Daniel has had a crush on Bruce Banner long before he was saving the world from apocalyptic destruction, also died in the snap, so at least Daniel didn’t lose any time with him.

His father is shaken by his own death and by his son’s. He wants to reconnect, to put the past behind them, to put right what once went wrong, but Daniel just isn’t ready for it. Yes, the world kept spinning for five years, but for him, the wound between him and his father his still raw, tender.

But his biological father is a whole other story. Now that he’s died and been brought back to life, Daniel is more ready than ever to reach out to him. He doesn’t care if he’s laughed at, or doubted, or called a liar. He has to shoot his shot.

Once again, he finds out, he is too late. His father, Tony Stark, sacrificed himself to save the entire universe. A hero, they’re calling him, the truest hero we’ve ever had. Memorials spring up everywhere, with Iron Man instantly immortalized as the most important hero in the universe.

And Daniel will never get to tell him that he’s his son.

But Tony Stark isn’t the only one dominating much of the cultural conversation. Most of the world is only now learning that in the five years between the Snaps, he and Stark Industries CEO Pepper Potts had a daughter.

Daniel has a sister.

Which is how he ends up here, driving down this winding gravel road alongside a lake, fingers tapping nervously atop the steering wheel. This is dumb, far dumber than just reaching out to Tony Stark. Pepper Potts is a grieving widow, a single mother with a four-year-old child, a woman with a company to run and a life to live. The last thing she needs is one of Tony Stark’s youthful indiscretions showing up on the front porch of her supposedly classified lake house (though he’s not ready to repair things with his father, Daniel is more than willing to let him try to curry favor by calling on an old friend to do some digging for him). When he gets out of his rental car, he approaches the front door and retreats over and over again, balling and unballing his fists, trying to work up the nerve to knock. All of the starter sentences he practiced on his drive from Boston to upstate New York are entirely gone now, and he thinks if he opens his mouth, he might just vomit.

He has to do it. He lost his chance to know both of his biological parents. He simply cannot risk losing the chance to know his sister. He steps carefully up to the front door, takes a deep breath, and knocks.

#msppctts #v4 #drabble #I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #THIS WAS NOT THE PLAN #BUT THINGS GOT AWAY FROM ME

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