#and I hate it because it makes me feel in flexible or unwilling to do other things

[project-pleiades]

Googling how to explain to my friends who I love and adore and would enjoy doing anything with that if we make plans to do a Specific Thing and schedule a time and then someone either A. Offers to do something totally unrelated to Specific Thing we originally scheduled time out for a day or two before the event or B. Changes the plans either right before or during the allotted time to do Specific Thing and we don’t end up doing Specific Thing it will make feel like I am being vacuum sealed in a bag full of needles

Results: Do I have Autism/ADHD quiz.

[cosycafune]

— PUSSY’S CONFESSION!

you know that satoru gojo likes you, so you’re confused by why his stupid self avoids you. but after a while, you finally got the answer you’ve been looking for. the man’s smart, but he’s really an idiot in the face of love. maybe showing him other ways will make him confess?

synopsis of acts: unprotected sex, creampies, getting caught, angst, pinning, degradation, virginity losses, missionary, cumming, kissing, slight fluff & potential more. not proofread.

*#*<3

Pinned to the wall, you’re almost breathless — your eyes wide whilst an angered Satoru towered over you. He’s mean, his nimble fingers barely activating their flexibility — when it came to trapping your hands against the door.

It wasn’t your fault that you’re tightened against his bedroom door, your eyes watery as nothing more than his somnolent eyes met yours.

There’s not a hopeful spark. There are no colliding moons that boomed and formed fireworks with you there. To you, your heart pondered on the possibility of Satoru hating you — even after the two of you shared your first kiss.

“I-I know…that you hate me, Sato’,” Shortening Satoru’s name subconsciously, your eyes grow teary at his grasp tensing — your nickname ringing through his frazzled mind.

“Because you know that I’m not capable of loving you properly, without putting you in danger,” Anger adorns Satoru’s wavering tone, “I’m not the light that you’re looking for, even if we did share a kiss.” Your eyes collapse at his impactful let down.

“Am I so easy to give up on?” Mumbling innocently, you speak to him with longing. Longing that you had never experienced before him.

Satoru’s eyes are dead set on your own, even as you attempt to look away — saving your shredding dignity. Dignity whilst he has you at your most vulnerable, his lips inches away from your own as your friends’ laughter lingers against your warm ears.

“You’re going to die being with me,” Bottled, Satoru subconsciously tautened his hold — his eyes meeting your delicate curls of hair.

“Then, why do you have me pinned against the wall?” Sniffling, you avert your gaze to the photo of the two of you — on his brown desk.

“B-Because—”

“—N-No, you just wanted to have almost all of me until you made this stupidity known!” Shouting, writhing vigorously, you continue, “You didn’t have a problem when we were cuddling, talking everything out, comforting each other near death, so what’s changed?” Softening with detrimental hope, your lips contort with restricted freedom.

“Because we got close to having sex, and I couldn’t do that to you, knowing that I might leave you to save you!” Satoru’s bellowing causes you to wince, glancing at him with vast eyes — irreversible damage settled on you.

“You have me pinned to a wall! You haven’t tried, but have the audacity to assume that I’m weak!” Grumbling at Satoru not moving, your heart wavers at his knee settled innocently between your thighs.

“What are you going to do about that?” Satoru’s unfitting teasing leads you into gently grinding against his knee, your summer dress gifting access you’ve never dealt with before.

“I-I’ll grind until you tell me that you love me!” Lightly grinding against Satoru’s reciprocating knee cap, a light moan entwines with your bellowed statement.

“I know that we almost had sex before, but will losing our virginities now change anything?” Concerned, Satoru’s conflicted question sparks a flame within his pensive eyes.

“Only if you tell me that you love me, since you do everything but tell me that,” Halting, you attempt to speak to Satoru’s soul — unwilling to lose yourself if he held no love for you.

“I-I love,” Satoru grows nervous, stilling his confession, unable to fathom placing you in danger, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Satoru’s false anger envelops you, causing you to begin to weep — feeling unworthy.

“I-I’m not weak, and I can protect myself,” You admit, emotionally stuffy at Satoru’s patronisation.

“You’re weak, and you know that,” Heartbroken, you pathetically glance at a wordy Satoru, “But, I still love you, so get killed if you want to.” Muttering, Satoru glances around his dorm room — his lips drawing nearer to your pouty own.

“Don’t speak to me like that again—” Satoru presses his knee upon your clit, softly rubbing upon the area as you break into uncontrolled moans.

“Speak like what, Princess?” Scoffing, Satoru pushes himself into painfully toying with you, dropping a hand of his own to lift up your summer dress — observing your frilly underwear.

“Like I’m less equal than you are,” Standing up for yourself, your lips waver as Satoru uses his vacant hand to rub your clothed clit.

“You’re my equal, so let’s see if you can handle me, without alerting Suguru and Shoko,” Deviously smiling, Satoru cups your ample breast with a newfound intrigue — his fingers brushing over your taut nipple.

—

Dazed, stretched and completely pulverised by an inexperienced Satoru, your eyes are teary, your limbs engraved by Satoru’s ample cock. Satoru had grown greedy, speedily learning how to fuck you.

And, well now, he lingers moments away from making you cum for the first time. He remains towering over you, his girthy cock splitting open your pretty cunt with all of his might. A beautiful might that has you pathetically moaning, your cream upon his cock completely motivating him — leaving him into pushing you further into his bed sheets.

Even with all the bed creaking, Satoru didn’t care as the thought of departing from you like this doomed him. To confess, to him, was to reveal your fate of death. However, like this, a safeness emerged, even if it was through him fucking you gently — stealing away your hesitant breaths.

And there it was, an ethereal face you pose — unable to hold back your cum while he cums with you. It’s something so reckless, but Satoru’s heartbeat entwines with you own as he tenderly collapses upon you. Upon you while you glance up at him, attempting to process how the two of you had gotten away with raw dogging so loudly, your cunt squelching, writhing and taking him all in.

“Sato’, just a little bit more,” Satoru’s inspired by your pleading words, leading him to grow hard inside of you — beginning to thrust gently enough. Gently enough as you had mildly bled throughout, and he didn’t want to hurt you further.

As, seeing your face tighten at his girthy cock filling you out, shaky and close to tears, lead Satoru into almost stopping. But with you holding his ample hand, you encouraged him into pushing through your pain. Your shimmering, teary eyes paired with a jelly smile that crumbled with strain.

“Ah! Sato’! Yes!” Drooling, your eyes roll back with Satoru rearranging your moulding walls.

“S-Shit, never thought I’d learn this right now,” A blushing mess, Satoru’s eyes widen at the extremely lewd sight of you — never had he experienced or viewed you in this lighting.

“Y-You’re so beautiful,” Mustering nervously, Satoru’s eyes mature into a smitten state — finally appreciating you in all of your beauty.

“Ngh! Yes! I-I am!” Connecting your lazy lips with Satoru’s own, you moan into his mouth with each desperate, emotion-storing pounding.

Pounding you know Suguru and Shoko could hear, especially with the crazy amount of shaking that Satoru’s bed made. Satoru’s gentleness was also paired with this unfulfilled desperation, leaving him into basking in your unfamiliar cunt. Something he couldn’t long to let go, memorising the soppiness of your cunt, your ring of cum, your creampie that smears his cock, he just couldn’t let it go.

“Hm! Take it, Princess! Yes!” Satoru shamelessly shouts, pulling his thick cock out of you, all before shoving into back inside of a squeamish you so effortlessly.

“F-Feels…so good—”

“—S-Satoru! Y/n!” Shocked, panting heavily, you and Satoru glance at his dorm door in shock — grateful to have locked it.

“Only I’m here,” Serious, Satoru breathless spews his lies — covering your mouth before he lightly thrusts into a tingly you.

“I can hear Y/n moaning, but make sure to at least get plan B,” At Suguru’s proud voice, Satoru feels you wrap your legs around his waist — subconsciously mewling loudly at his deep spurts cum within your abdomen.

“I love you,” Satoru shyly mumbles, observing the shyness you exhibit — covering your features with heavy shame.

“S-Suguru…heard us,” Close to tears, your choppy breaths distort your panicked words.

“I don’t care, since you’re all that matters and I said I love you,” Whining, Satoru collapses against your plentiful breasts — annoyed at the mentioning of his best friend.

“You have to earn it, since you were rude earlier,” Smiling, Satoru kisses your cushiony lips — glancing into your eyes.

To you, his eyes spilled a confession of genuine love. Through the heavens and the earths, his love’s something life-altering.

do not copy, modify or repost my works on any platforms, claiming that they’re yours. all rights reserved: cosycafune. 2024.

[veritymysticmagic]

Musings on SciFi and Subhumanism

So I have to admit something. I actually really hate SciFi

BUT I can't stop going back to it as a genre.

As a genre SciFi is just what it is, Science Fiction. And usually its simply fiction that has a futuristic setting. I say this because I feel that it has some tropes that are pretty common within the genre. Like a lot of SciFi leans dystopic or is used to criticize a modern day political issue (or be a metaphor for a modern day issue). But most importantly very few SciFi stories end with a happy "fairy tale" ending where the guy gets the princess and all that. There are obviously tons of exceptions but some are borderline parodies or are seen as "casual" SciFi (ie. Star Wars)

But that to me is exactly why I don't engage with alot of SciFi. A lot of them are very depressing or are very much focused on modern day issues. This in turn I feel makes a lot of the major SciFi works become same-y or are unwilling to push the boundaries of quite frankly a very loose and flexible genre. I think most of my feelings on this comes from the popularity and publicity of dystopian SciFi (Hunger Games, Handmaid's Tale, etc.) Basically I don't like them because they are often depressing for everyone and represents the end of society EXCEPT for mayyyyybe the main character. And even if the MC gets a good ending we don't necessarily see the fallout of that and instead are left musing.

This is why in my opinion SciFi isn't just about criticism of politics but it is ALSO a representation of human will and the continuation to live on. (I feel like a possible comparison is Fallout vs Borderlands, one has at least some hope while the other feels like a drugged up shoot fest for the fucked up parts of humanity). Like I want to see SciFi stories that are closer to how we treat medieval fantasy and I feel that some recent works are going that way. Yes please continue to criticize humanity but also give us and SHOW us some hope please (I absolutely adore Kill One Billion Demons for doing this so well)

I absolutely love the idea of SciFi but I apologize if I struggle to watch movies or read books because they just end depressing and in utter hopelessness. (I will say that Alien is an incredible movie, highly recommend, and I loved Gattaca tho I really don't like Hunger Games,Handmaid's Tale,The Giver)

This is my transition to my next point into a subgenre that is not exclusive to SciFi but is often associated with SciFi = Subhumanism. This subgenre explores the horror of being subhuman and the depiction of subhuman. An easy example are zombies and weird science experiments. For some the horror comes from the idea of changing and becoming a zombie. But I believe the horror comes from empathy we feel when we see a changed human, the wonder of what happened and feeling that person's pain. Its all quite horrifying.

Nevertheless its a weird interest of mines, and to me a compelling use of subhumanism is to pull on that empathy that makes you feel the pain of the other. There are actually quite alot of movies that use subhumanism, but I feel that many are used to pull our empathy strings but some I feel focus more on robots as or are used as a gimmick. That being said, I feel the best example of this trope is in I Have no Mouth and Cannot Scream, a horrifying tale that is nonetheless absolutely compelling.

And it to me is the epitome of the SciFi I want to create. Something so horrifying and gut wrenchingly awful and yet there is a glimmer of hope at the end. While its not the SciFi story I would write, I definitely see myself getting inspired by it.

I want a SciFi story that is about love and adventure without necessarily being about depression and overt political criticism (yes keep the criticism but you don't have to smack me in the head with it! this is why I feel some SciFi has ironically aged badly and requires revisions, especially since a majority of these works are written by white men) I want to see more SciFi about human hope and will, just push the genre further into more heights.

This is just my rambling, I am sure one can find dozens of examples of what I am looking for, but these are just my musings and thoughts on the whole thing.

[bratz-kitten]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PT. 7

gemini and pisces placements are similar in the sense that geminis are able to see things from all perspectives, while pisces are able to empathise with people who have all sorts of different perspectives. pisces placements... be careful with over-empathising with the people who hurt you to the point where you’re understanding why they did it and you start excusing their actions. gemini placements... be careful with seeking the multi-layers and million different perspectives in everything and everyone to the point where you’re driving your own mind insane and you don’t know what your opinion is anymore because you hyper-analyse so much. too much of a good ability becomes a curse.

people with venus-mars aspects have a talent for making people who hate them fall in love with them 💋

moon in the 11th house natives tend to attract friends who get into scandals. moon in the 10th house natives tend to be the ones who get into said scandals. it’s a PERFECT FRIENDSHIP

capricorn placements have a talent for knowing how to make things last. they want to prolong the enjoyment they get out of something for as long as possible, which is why their hobbies, friendships and relationships tend to last a lifetime... hedonistic sluts

since both the 7th house and the 11th house rule fandoms, celebrities with a 7th house or 11th house neptune can attract fans who view them as angels who can’t do nothing wrong — because of this, those celebrities rarely take accountability for their mistakes, since people keep pushing the “but they’re perfect :(“ light on them

pluto conjunct ascendant natives always come off as very serious during first impressions, no matter how approachable and inviting they strive to appear.

sun and moon in the 10th house people may feel as if they’re always exposed to the public eye, they can’t get away with keeping things secretive. others always notice whatever they want kept on the low. this can be especially frustrating if they notice that others aren’t exposed to the same kind of scrutiny that they are for simply existing

lilith in pisces bitches have a natural talent for appearing like angels even in situations where they are 100% guilty. it’s very easy for them to put on their vulnerable, lost puppy act lmfao, which triggers others’ protective instincts. they may be able to cry on cue when people call them out on their bullshit, making them feel like THEY’re the shitty ones for confronting the lilith native... it’s insane

lilith in the 12th house natives may feel as though the themes of lilith are trapped in their psyche, at the core of who they are and those themes become unavoidable for them — they’re always there, lurking in the shadows, becoming the center of their nightmares

people with mercury in the 1st house can feel veryyy threatened and defensive when someone possesses knowledge in an area that they don’t, it’s like it hits them right on their biggest fears. they often either try to “one-up” the other person in an attempt to heal their broken ego or shut down altogether in insecurity. it’s imperative that they work on developing a strong sense of self-worth because they can be extremely prone to comparing their mental skills to those of other people.

people with personal planets in the 12th house may feel as though a lot of their artistic drive is stifled by their lack of energy. like... in the mental realm there’s a lot going on and it’s incredible, but then you pick up a pen to actualize your visions and you feel exhaustion immediately overtaking you. it can feel like there’s a lot to your psyche that feels inaccessible to you not because you don’t want to explore it, but because you have yet to restore the energy to dive deep into it. this can be especially noticeable if there’s absolutely no 5th house energy in the chart

people with jupiter in an earth sign love being surrounded by greeneries in their home; they may take a lot of enjoyment out of taking care of plants, gardening, cooking and stuff of the sort. it makes them feel more grounded, independent, and even healed. they also LOVE scents that connect them to nature like the scent of grass and the ocean.

air mercuries can be very beware of strangers, they can feel offended when their friends make them socialize with someone they don’t know and it can take a hot while before they trust the person enough to lower their defences a bit. they need to know it’s safe before expressing their usual sexy eccentric selves in front of someone new. on the other hand, aries placements can also hate being introduced to new people through their friends but it’s mostly because they’re very territorial over them, and can’t stand the thought that this new person can hurt their friendship in any possible way

meanwhile, it’s probably an earth or leo/sagittarius mercury introducing new friends to the group. they’re so fucking good with people and it shows in how they make people feel welcomed so easily, it’s like they “take” the person in and adopt them into the group. they can’t stand seeing someone being treated like an outcast because they know how it sucks to feel rejected, so they’ll try their best to make you feel included

while on the subject of people who hate seeing others be treated like an outcast because they know how it feels like to be rejected: SCORPIO RISINGS. bro. people underestimate how chill they can actually be. if they see you being left out, they’ll approach you with no fucks given and do anything in their power to make you feel comfortable. they do so well in group settings.

and while on the subject of scorpio risings... i have a scorpio rising friend and he goes thru it on the daily. he often complains that people are always suspicious of him and that they seem repulsed by him, strangers on the street will stay tf away from him. and it’s so heartbreaking because his personality is so friendly and welcoming and it doesn’t at all match his intimidating appearance. scorpio risings have this energy that not many people can handle, others feel either really drawn to them or downright scared of them because of the “danger” element they seem to carry in them

i know two people who are both scorpio suns and libra moons and they look the exact same, even though they have different risings. brown, deep-set eyes, coarse dark hair, naturally tanner skin tone — and they have the same style as well, using lots of band t-shirts and dark clothing. scorpio energy is always so noticeable wherever it is i swear, it’s like it takes over the rest of the chart

gemini moons are what yall claim gemini venuses to be. like, seriously... have you ever met someone with a gemini venus? they don’t need constant stimulation or else they’ll get bored and cheat. not in the slightest; actually, they’re often incredibly loyal and crave longterm, committed relationships. if anything, they need stimulation outside of their relationship in the form of a good, exciting career and hobbies so that they don’t get too addicted to their partner and to constantly analysing every aspect of their relationship. gemini moons however, tend to have multiple partners throughout life and they often feat deep commitment. they can be huge players imo, IT’S THEM YOU SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT!

sagittarius placements are so... tactile? like, they love to touch things. when they go to stores and stuff, they’ll start holding everything that catches their attention— it’s like they can only decide if they want to buy something after thouroughly exploring how it feels, the texture and the energy that the object gives them through touch. and they talk so much with their hands. it makes me so anxious like bitch you aren’t selena gomez, i promise you that you CAN keep your hands to yourself

taurus placements are so weird to me, i can’t understand them. it’s like they’re afraid of exploring their own depths, which in turn makes me unable to explore them. okay, how do i put this... it’s like they have this preset idea of who they are and after deciding so, they’re unwilling to let go of it. “i’m the stable friend who’s here for everyone even when i can barely take care of my own self” and then that’s who they are: the people who are a steady rock in the lives of others, taking care of everyone. and then they refuse to change even after getting hurt. and then, it’s like... well, you can’t just be that. you are a human who contains multitudes, but i don’t think you give yourself enough credit on how layered you are. that fear of changeability, that need to be the one stable thing in a world full of unpredictability will only damage you in the end, because you won’t get to fully experience life’s greatest pleasure: knowing yourself. becoming your own best friend, exploring every layer that there is to your being. i think you deny yourself of that experience because you fear that, with self-learning comes self-growth which leads to transformation. and you fear transformation because you don’t want to change for the worst. but like... transformation is necessary and with that comes adaptability + flexibility, which are things you could greatly benefit from.

scorpio venuses can be so pessimistic— and when they’re in a dark mindset, it’s so difficult to pull them out of it. it’s so difficult to get them to see the good in difficult situations, and to help them believe that it gets better. but even if you don’t believe me, i’ll keep telling you; it does get better. you’ll get through this.

jupiter in the 4th house is an indicator of food having been an amazing part of your childhood; there might’ve been a lot of feasts and you could’ve had a parent who loved to cook. being well fed might be a huge concern for you now; you might get sick easily when you’re eating fast food and non-traditional plates.

mercury square uranus is an extremely difficult aspect to have because, in your earlier years, you might’ve felt dumb or like there was something wrong with your intelligence because you might’ve found school difficult due to it’s structured nature that didn’t fit with the way you like to learn things— you need to learn in an interactive way that piques your interest. your anxiety and any traumatic experienced that you faced could’ve heavily impacted your school performance. you might’ve had an ease with learning but then, when it came to doing the written tests, you couldn’t perform to the best of your abilities. either way, school might’ve been a source of a lot of stress and difficulty.

mercury square pluto can have some weird manifestation where, like... you suspect things but you always suspect the wrong things. i’ve met a few people with this aspect and all of them were extremely suspicious of the most random things who were literally normal and innocent. this aspect can cause a lot of chaos to one’s interpersonal relationships because you might find yourself suspecting your loved ones in the weirdest circumstances due to your trust issues, which in return causes them to lose trust in you + the want to confide in you because you keep questioning everything they’re up to WHEN THEY’RE NOT UP TO ANYTHING IN THE FIRST PLACE. probably the most frustrating thing that can happen with this aspect is when you always suspect what you shouldn’t, but then, when sketchy things are actually happening that should be questioned, you don’t bat an eye to it. omfg it drives me insane

moon conjunct the ascendant can make someone have a very delicate appearance that gives others the impression that they need to handle you like fine china or else you might break. my mother has this at a very tight orb and whenever i bring people over, their first impression of her is always “she looks so frail”. the native might be extremely sensitive to every minor inconvenience which brings a lot of frustration to them, a feeling that they can’t control their reactions and inner turmoil. it can also suck when you don’t want to be depicted as the victim but then that’s the way everyone perceives you. the native might have very expressive and shiny eyes, and they can cry easily. it’s very difficult for them to hide their emotions.

your jupiter sign can signify where you feel an overflow of energy. jupiter in cancer may feel like you have an overflow of nurturing and protective energy towards your loved ones, with a lot of intuition and need for introspection. jupiter in leo can make you feel like you a talent for self-expression and dealing with others, being overly dramatic and prideful at times, and with a huge drive to have fun. jupiter in virgo can feel an overflow of perceptive qualities, with a huge amount of self-awareness and also awareness of your surroundings, ability to constantly analyse and a constant strive for perfection (which btw is impossible since perfection is unattainable and you’re a human being who makes mistakes and that’s completely fine. stop finding flaws where there aren’t none).

[micahstravels]

“Claw Marks”

*I wrote a lot of this over the past few months, then pulled it all together and finished it while I was alone in isolation. Like so many other people, last year did not go as expected. The result (of many factors) is that I will be moving out of New Zealand, my home for the past four years. Even though I made this decision, it still feels very surreal.

Most of what is written here is from the last year: some is my own processing, some is recapturing moments, and some are just snapshots of things I write but devoid of the context in which I wrote them. 

Maybe this will not all make sense, but my hope is that maybe you’ll find some of your own thoughts and emotions articulated.

Again, thanks for reading.

—

The Slow Turn

A year changes you a lot.

What has unfolded over the past few months was everything I did not want to happen, a series of events that hit the ground like a pile of dominoes, one right after the other, and by the end of November I was on the floor.

I came across a quote from David Foster Wallace during that time. “Everything I’ve ever let go of,” he writes, “has claw marks on it.” Look, I am aware that I cannot hold on to things forever, at some point I must let go. But there was always a difference between freely relinquishing what’s in my grasp and having my fists pried open.

Of course, a habit of mine is that I shred things out of fear.

I board a flight leaving from New Zealand in early December. As the country shrinks, I feel hot tears soak into my face mask, and I know that the next time I fly away like this, it will be with everything that fits into two suitcases, maybe three. “The next time I fly away like this, I know, it will be for good,” I wrote on the flight.

But what no one knows is that I knew this in the middle of last year, when I awoke one morning with a gnawing kind of feeling that this country was giving me the last of what it has to offer—there wouldn’t be much left soon. For even in July I had a sense of what was coming in November. What has followed I can only describe as an inner shift, akin to someone placing their palms on my cheeks and slowly turning my head, forcing me to look away.

What is happening now is the slow turn, as my grey eyes hold the faces of all the people this country has brought me to love. The slow turn, a shelf full of books, a plant growing up the bare wall, early morning sun. An old green car in the driveway. The slow turn. Two friends on the other end of the phone, they are saying they are happy for me, this is the right thing, red eyes, tears streaming, I am crying too, I say sorry twice and they say don’t you ever apologize for this again. The slow turn, my name to take off the lease. The slow turn. A final drive out to the beach with the black sand, the one where I used to sprint into the Pacific. Out to lunch, my mom asks if I am sure, I’m sure, I say while I sit on my hands. The slow turn, “I’m sure, but I hate this,” I write on the flight back.

A slow turn, a pivot. Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it, he said. I will attempt not to shred anything as I return only to pack up, which is the same as being told not to be afraid.

“The next time I fly away like this, I know, it will be for good,” I wrote on that first flight.

I book another flight. This is the beginning of the end here, my time to wrap up. What do they call it? A transition.

—

No Easy Way Out

Here, finally, I relinquish my right to a direct route.

A fictional right; a right I never had to begin with.

—

“Culpable”

tengo que tomar una decisión: volver (regresar) o irme de nuevo (correr)

dime, si te dejo una vez más ¿me perdonarás?

—

Load-shedding

There are two main ways to carry a load: on your back or in your arms. It appears that one cripples you, while the other builds endurance.

Look, I know about this burden—I just need to consciously decide how I want it to mark me.

—

My Bottom Lip is Bleeding

I thought I was going to pass out in spin class the other day. I remember it being a 30-minute class, turns out it was sixty. By the 30-minute mark I’d given everything I had and then some, but then the instructor starts calling out halfway there! and that’s when I knew that I was in trouble. I kid you not: the instructor looks dead at me from his bike and says, bite down, girl, it will help you keep going and forget the pain. I’m so embarrassed to be singled out, but whatever. Bite down, girl. I clench my teeth together tight and keep pedaling. The feeling I experience after it’s over is one of exhilaration, akin to pride.

Two days later, at 6:32 in the morning, a rejection email, after I’ve given everything I have—and then some. I sit up in bed, howling softly.

Bite down, girl. Just bite down.

Look, I don’t know what I am going to do or what is going to happen, but I know this:

I hope one day to look back on this tender season in my life, and I hope for two things—(1) that I kept going and (2) that the feeling I experience when looking back is one of pride.

—

The Return

I forgot the Spanish word for dreaming (soñar) and then later I forgot the word for glasses (lentes) and then in the middle of a conversation I forgot how to properly construct a sentence in the past tense. 

This terrifies me. I have to go back.

There are some things you can afford to forget; this is not one of them.

—

Implosion

We spent an entire lecture discussing the ethics of using aborted fetus stem cells as a treatment for Parkinson’s. One life sacrificed so another could be prolonged, I write.

The offhanded way the lecturer talked about it—as if this were a minor inconvenience to research, as though this shouldn’t even be a debate at all—left a gross taste in my mouth. A student raised his hand and asked if the stem cells strictly came from aborted fetuses or if spontaneous miscarried fetuses would also be used. The lecturer replied that miscarried fetuses should always be treated as human remains, therefore the wishes of the family must be respected, whereas aborted ones are considered medical waste and thus, “in his opinion” should be released and used for research purposes. If I had the guts that few people have I would’ve raised my hand and said exactly what I thought about that. “In my opinion.”

Instead I write: I do not know what to do with or where to put this knowledge; it weighs heavy on my chest.

The thought of entering such a sterile yet fascinating field terrifies me. Will I learn to live with this weight? Who will I become in the process? I get home and drive to the beach; it’s pouring.

Who am I with this?

The past two years have been marked by a lot of questions, specifically about where to locate my beliefs in this fast-paced yet very complex, very septic world I’ve ventured into. There have been so many things in this field that I love, but there are so many ethics that I do not have answers to. Euthanasia for terminal, painful diseases? Stem cell therapy? Funding for Western diseases or the same funding instead for clean water? 3D printing organs? Cell cloning? Aborting babies with cystic fibrosis, with down syndrome, with cleft palates?

Do I want to study in the West? Do I even like living in the West?

I am twenty-four and find myself caught in the undertow of a forceful wave that I thought I could swim through, but it’s just a lot stronger than I originally expected. So many people around me seem to be riding these waves effortlessly, taking in the information and spitting out model answers, picking it all up and rearranging it neatly to fit into a worldview that is both contemporary and politically correct. But what if all of this doesn’t fit in mine?

I think about this a lot, about the way I want to look at and approach this world. I also think a lot about who I would like to be. And, in my final year of this one degree, I’ve reached the conclusion that if any stray piece of information can be molded, compressed and folded so that it stacks tidily within a worldview, I don’t think that speaks to the flexibility of the worldview—I think it speaks to its demise.

I think it foretells of a worldview that will uphold anything and everything, collecting opinions and beliefs as they come, unwilling to shed the information that doesn’t fit, until it can’t anymore, until it collapses in on itself. A worldview that was always destined to implode.  

The task ahead of me is to figure out how to build one that will last.  

—

December

The end of this year.

I feel sun-bleached, really. Or something like it.

I look across the table at my friend, at the half-eaten sandwich on her plate. The weariness we feel from a difficult year is evident between us: she barely touches her food while I devour everything on the table that is edible. I want to ask if I can eat her sandwich; I almost ask the waiter to bring me another plate of food. And a refill.

I think to myself that we are both starving differently, each malnourished in a kind of overtired way.

We were all running so fast, I say, we weren’t prepared for the standstill.

She looks at me. But what were we even running for?

Ocean Vuong, in one of my favorite books, “I am not with you because I am at war with everything but you.”

A standstill, yes. But now, also, a turnaround, a furious sprint away from a war in which I don’t remember enlisting but fought in nonetheless. A long run in the other direction, a long run back home.

What were we even running for? I will not—in an attempt to build this life—venture so far off into the distance that when I turn around the people I want to show it to most are gone. I will not.

I have come back to you because I am done fighting everything that took me away from you.

—

“Open to hear a new voice message”

0:59. “Hey Micah, hope you’re good. I just wanted to check in on you. Look, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while and I think now’s a good time. And it’s that I don’t think you should let the fear of what has happened over the past few months and years make you into something you’re not. I just see lately that you’ve been grabbing all of these back-up plans out of fear that one or all of them are going to fail. But I’ve never known you to be someone to look for worst case scenarios. You have never been indecisive and you were never easily overwhelmed or even frantic. And I find that being with you now, there’s something off, there’s something within you that doesn’t belong. I think you’ve become scared and that’s ok, we all get scared, but I think it’s time to not be scared anymore. I see how the fear of what has happened has begun to shape you into something you’re not, and I think it’s time to let that girl go and bring the old one ba—”

0:33. “It cut out on me. Bring the old one back, that’s what I was saying. Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that. You know I love you and I’m always rooting for the real you, but I will also root for you even when you’re scared, just as long as you commit to letting that scared part go. And I think—no, actually, I know—that what’s ahead is daunting, but you don’t have to be afraid of it. Anyways, I have to run but iloveyousomuch and I’m here for you, always. Have a good day, see you soon.”

Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it, he said. Fear included.

—

June

When he walked away, I was overcome by a feeling that I was off-balance; the world felt like it was spinning. He left and I tried to steady myself, to sit upright again.

But those damn eyes left me reeling.

"Your eyes, an ocean, I drag a raft out to sea, no one has found me.”

—

Molting

To live in this peaceful country at this point in history is, as the news says, to be free. Everyone that can is migrating back here. But for me, that freedom was always relative, that is, it’s now contingent on the fact that you can no longer come and go as you please.

But I have to come and go: a whole piece of me lives somewhere else in the world.

Nonetheless, I find myself conflicted about leaving, conflicted about staying. I request a sign and get a picture of someone ripping off the outer layer of my skin, like someone helping a snake molt out of its old scales. In other words, this season has ended.

When I was a little girl growing up in Australia I used to find leftover cicada exoskeletons stuck to trees. At six, I used to wonder if it hurt the insect, and if it did hurt, did the cicada just shake off its outer layer anyway, out of necessity? In Mexico, at twenty-four, I sit on the beach and watch a hermit crab pull its spindly body out of a shell that has become too small.

I can’t stay in a country that won’t freely release me anymore, I can’t stay in a country that has nothing left for me, it is time to go. This knowledge hurts but I process it anyway, out of necessity.

I think about the snake, about the cicada, the hermit crab—the girl. All of us molting an exterior layer that has built up over time, shedding what we’ve outgrown, the difference between the creatures and I is that their instincts told them this would happen. The difference between us is that they’re not sobbing while they do it. I pick up four years of my life, like a shimmering, translucent wisp in my hands, it weighs nothing, it weighs everything, and I lay it on the ground and I make myself leave it behind.

Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it, that’s what he said; that’s what I’m doing now, only gently.

This dead skin glows like a green light behind me, green like the neon exit sign that I am now running towards in this new, baby-soft skin.

I just don’t know where I’m running to.

—

Mornings

I want to write about my family, without saying too much.

I want to write about what it’s like to drive down a windy road, my dad at the wheel saying that we need a plan, we need a timeline, and I agree, I want a plan and I want a timeline; my mom says nothing. The Mexican desert is a blur past my tinted window, burnt orange, flecks of gold, a cloudless blue sky—and all I can think about is how I need a plan, I need a timeline. I pull out my phone to take notes, as if all of these things that we have been hoping for, for three years now, could be scheduled. If they could be scheduled they would’ve happened by now.

I want to write about the two people I love most, without saying too much. We take a road trip to the centre of the country, where we ate at a different restaurant for breakfast, lunch and dinner for ten days. There were colourful buildings, a sunrise ride up in a hot air balloon, late nights watching Lost reruns. My dad buys fresh pastries in the morning, my mom and I walk through the market for hours, we order hot chocolate so thick and creamy and rich that we cannot finish it. 

When we returned everybody said that it looked so beautiful, you must’ve had such a good time, but what is sharpest in my mind is how they both looked, what it was like to wake up in the same space as them, the many conversations over breakfast, lunch and dinner, the two of them holding hands as we walked between the colourful buildings, how it felt to know that an undercurrent of many things that are still not ok ran beneath us, but here in these moments, we are ok.

For I cannot write about this without writing about the ache we have all had to adjust to. An ache with a pulse, I wrote in 2018. I will not say too much except that the past three years have been hard, some days so gutting it took my breath away—I was spiraling—a lot of calls across the world where I put the phone down and howled. In November a series of events hit the ground like a pile of dominoes, in November I was on the floor, in November the elapsed time was now marked in years—in November I almost gave up. In November I was ready to raise the white flag, in December I flew to Mexico with the intention of raising it, come for me disappointment, I surrender, just let me catch my breath and then take me. 

But how can I write this? That is not the whole story. The untold part of the story continues, such that throughout this elapsed time, these three years, I have looked at my dad on multiple occasions and he refused to raise that white piece of cloth, I look to my mom and she won’t either. They are better than I am, more resilient than I am, and even though this hurts like hell, if they will not raise a flag in surrender then I will not either. I will not give up, either.  

A month into my time at home, I wrote down Renaud’s words:

"I will love you until we run out of mornings. Then I will love you in the dark.”

There is much to say of a family in the dark; every family experiences it at some point. But for ours, I can only write about how it stripped us of a lot but gave us back so much more. For it is dark but I know their faces, even if I can’t always see them, I know what things feel like, where we all fit in this black space, the presence of an extra Person whom we all take turns sleeping next to. One morning, my mom holds me like I’m a child again and I weep just like one; I weep out three years worth of disappointment. “Then I will love you in the dark.”

Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it, he said. But not this, this I will not be letting go of, ever. I would like to write a lot more, about two months at home in Mexico that returned something lost to me; the mornings when I woke up to the dog scratching at the door, my dad on the couch wrapped in a blanket, my mom in the kitchen stirring oatmeal—and everything is not ok but everything in that moment is good, we are good. But this is all I will write here, for the rest of the story is written down somewhere else; the rest of the story is for me, for us.

Besides, there are mornings are coming, the ones where the light trickles in gradually, slowly, and then all at once everything is bright again. These are the mornings that are coming; I mustn’t waste my energy.

[somepinkthing]

NHS’s a very flexible character that exists almost entirely in the gray zone. He doesn’t seem to stick to any strong moral code and yet we’re given the impression that he does know where the lines are drawn. And while he’s willing to cross them, he never strays too far. This manages simultaneously make him one of the most ruthless characters AND one of the only characters in the series who’s serious about minimizing death. It also means he’ll accept the consequences, acknowledge how many people he could potentially hurt, and try and minimize it as much as possible BUT he still hides himself at the end of it all.

NHS is perfectly in between. Ambitious and yet not at all. Respectful of life but still willing to lose one or two people to obtain revenge. Consumed by rage but responsible enough to know he couldn’t just go off and do whatever he wanted because of that. He’s presented as someone who will go any length yet all his plans indicate that he has a strong enough understanding of how far is too far. He openly hated his leadership position and showed no interest in sect matters and yet he was very careful to keep his sect and his disciples out of harm’s way the entire time. Genuinely a coward but unrelenting in the face of danger. Has a lofty plan with  no guarantee of satisfaction even if he does succeed but he uses obtainable benchmarks and is flexible to changes. He obviously was capable of loving deeply and unconditionally but we rarely saw him show it from behind his mask. Ruthless but doesn’t take human life lightly. A coward and a hero. Highly emotional yet extremely exact and careful. Emotionally intelligent but oddly distant with most. In him existed almost no heroic traits and yet he kept his wits about him while charging headfirst into a dangerous situation and snatched a decisive victory. His brother’s legacy and his foil–a middle point between NMJ and JGY

I think the question of righteousness versus reality are better defined in NHS than in JGY because of this nature too. JGY, for all that he claimed not to be, was a very emotional man with many delusions of his own. He was a man that legitimately thought all of his actions were reasonable and anyone who listened would agree with him. On the other hand, NHS was simultaneously reaching for the stars with his plans but still managed to keep one foot in reality. He knew what he had to work with, knew when he was doing right and when he was crossing a line, and didn’t delude himself into thinking he could get the world on his side. He remained single-mindedly focused on his revenge for ten years and yet showed that he was aware that he still had a life to live and responsibilities to fulfill afterwards by how he carefully planned it out so that nothing would befall on his sect after it was all said and done. Ultimately, he stopped a maniac, avenged his brother, and ended the story with the least amount of innocent blood on his hands. Did that make his way the right way to do things? Who knows. But laying out the facts, it isn’t like you can really call NHS a villain when put side by side with the rest of the cast. But putting motives and morality into the equation, it’s also not as if you can say he was the hero either.

He knew the risk of sending the disciples to Yi City so he made sure to time it with getting wangxian there. It was one group in one city, a controlled environment. Same with what happened at the Mo estate. NHS tries to control how many people will be put in danger and tries to incorporate ways to get as many people out alive as possible. It didn’t always work out perfectly–for example, jin ling got caught up both in the man-eating castle mystery NHS probably helped set up for wangxian AND at the final showdown (which is honestly hilarious to me like 10 years of planning almost ruined twice because jiang wanyin couldn’t manage to keep his kid on a leash). Also the poison ended up failing to kill JGY so he had to get LXC to do it last minute. But he still tried to minimize the people involved in a way that other characters didn’t really seem to think about until it was too late. Arguably the only innocent blood that was really left on NHS’s hands was Mo Xuanyu’s, and he wasn’t exactly unwilling or coerced--he had an agenda too. I suppose the Mo family were caught in the crossfire but tbh I can’t really bring myself to think that they didn’t have it coming. Everyone else got to go home relatively unharmed in the end. In comparison, how many collateral deaths did JGY cause? WWX? Jiang cheng? Even people like NMJ and LXC both participated in a bloody war and in the first siege of the burial mounds? How many more did they hurt because of their lack of planning and preparation? Preparation that NHS did do? How many lives weren’t lost during this whole ordeal simply because NHS didn’t blindly follow his heart?

That being said, it’s not absolution even if you consider NHS a hero. I don’t doubt NHS knew full well that there was a risk of collateral damage with what he was trying to do. I don’t doubt he very carefully set out what was acceptable risk and what wasn’t. I’m not saying he didn’t do any of that. What I am saying is that other characters who weren’t as calculating ended up hurting far more people partially because they didn’t stop to think about the logistics–what could happen, what was acceptable, what would be gained versus what it could cost. These sound like cold and unpleasant thoughts but we come to realize through the mistakes of other characters that never considering them is wildly irresponsible too. So was it worth it? Was it worse for NHS to have done it this way instead of going all out in a fit of rage? Would carrying out justice the ��right way” have been worth the damage it might have done? Which would have been more morally acceptable? I think these are questions he asks himself too, especially after it’s all said and done and he’s able to breath for the first time in year, is able to finally see without the red tint of rage

 NHS is a perfectly gray character. I’m not too sure he even understands all his motives. Half the time it’s emotion, half the time is calculated, most of the time it’s a mix of both. He’s flexible and stubborn. A hero and a minor antagonist. He hurt far less people but his methods are definitely questionable at some points. It’s hard to tell with him probably because he doesn’t even have a good grasp of himself. He came into his own in a fit of rage and grief and probably a fair bit of fear. Like most of the other characters, he had to act fast to survive and never would have had the time to parse through all his feelings

[journeyedalone]

Da Rulez

General Rules

No godmodding.

Do not ask for smut unless you are an adult; you will have to prove you are an adult if you ask.

Mun does not equal muse.

Blog is trigger heavy, please be aware of this if you decide to move forward.

I have one trigger and it’s the user “lleavetheciity.” I’ve gotten over the panic attacks they induce for the most part, but it still really causes a negative reaction.

All triggers are tagged, if you need a special one tagged, let me know.

I am not open to certain topics, some during certain times.

Pedophilia/Incest/Rape focused on the sexual part rather than the effects is a no 24/7.

No underage smut at all.

Domestic Violence: cuz y’all like romanticizing being with abusers.

Cheating arcs.

Suicide is tricky; it’s not okay during certain times. Run it by me.

Animal abuse/death depends on my mood, sometimes a bit too sensitive to it. Run it by me.

I do not ship Frans or Charisk (bit of a squick), please do not ask for it. Please tag the ship accordingly so I can blacklist it.

Do not send hate toward anyone, trans, cis, homo, hetero, black, white, muslim, christian. I won’t tolerate my followers, my family or myself being insulted. It’s a quick way for me to unfollow/block you.

On that note, don’t interact if you ship adults with minors.

If you see that I am already interacting with a duplicate of your character, do not be discouraged—some are insecure about seeing duplicates and it’s fine if you don’t want to follow for that reason—but I like having diverse bonds with the same character. Just because a is shipped with b, doesn’t mean you can’t or that you have to, they could be lovers, just friends, or enemies. They could have a different dynamic, everyone plays their muses a bit differently.

I have bipolar disorder, depression/anxiety and PTSD (from an incident two years ago). My behavior may be weird, but it does not excuse my poor actions, I expect the same from you.

Please be literate. It’s hard to enjoy a thread when my partner doesn’t know “their,” “there,” and “they’re.” English is not the easiest language, if it’s not your first language I’ll fix the errors for you.

Different muses from this blog interacting with the same muse from yours share a universe by default, if you’d like to not be the case I’m flexible.

NSFW content will be tagged using the citrus scale, more often “lime” being suggestive, and “lemon” being intercourse.

I am mutuals only, so I will only roleplay with mutuals. Non-mutuals and anons are free to send asks, about anything really, but I’m following whoever I want to roleplay with.

If you follow me on a personal, it’s chill, but if you’re following for a side blog, TELL ME. I will check out your side blog/s and possibly follow you there. I can then consider you a mutual.

Please have a rules and about page; it’s not super necessary but it makes me more comfortable about following you and discussing possible content.

You can send starters with or without previous plotting or approval as long as you are a mutual.

If I feel uncomfortable with where you are taking a thread (such as my character getting raped, or your character hurting an animal, etc.) there’s a 99% chance I’ll implore you to rewrite a section so it doesn’t go that direction—if I need to change my response for you to do so, I will change it.

Starter calls are posted monthly or when there’s been an influx of followers, if you like a starter call, you have 14 days to respond to it—if you don’t have time to respond to it within the time, message me OOC so I at least know you got it. The extension period is two months before I delete it I approach you about responding; from that point on, it’s up to my own discretion.

Shipping-related rules:

You can read this later if you are not interested in shipping right now. If our characters haven’t met yet, you don’t need to concern yourself with this:

There is no instant shipping; everything is done through chemistry and development.

My muses are traumatized and young; please think of how old your character is, and about what their relationship is before asking to ship.

Shipping calls go out routinely (about once a month) please request a tag for the ship you would like if you accept the call, and talk to me about plotting their relationship.

I don’t know if I should have to say this again, but domestically abusive relationships will not be accepted.

Incestual relationships will not happen.

Pedophiliac relationships will not happen.

Power Imbalanced relationships will not happen (teacher and student, boss and employee, etc.)

I am unwilling to ship certain muses. These muses include Eilis and Frisk*.

Eilis is nine; nuff said.

Frisk is apathetic and cannot feel; this makes shipping hard but can be an unrequited relationship where Frisk benefits in some way.

Smut is tricky; everything should be under a read more and a relationship should be developed beforehand—William is demi-romantic and has a hard time getting attached enough for that, Bonny has PTSD over it and it is painful for her so she won’t want to do it regardless of hormones, Jimin is dysphoric as he’s often mid-transition and will be nervous to do things after transitioning into a woman(surface ver.). Your muse will have to be more comforting than their own boundaries.

If you have managed to read ALL THESE FREAKING RULES, please send in any quote you like from Undertale! If you are uncomfortable sending in a password, it’s all good. I get you. If you’d still like to let me know, check the mobile tag for a post you can like with these rules (you are here). Thank you!

[sounmashnews]

[ad_1] One of the Apple Watch 8's coolest new options is the flexibility to sense wrist temperature. However, the long-rumored functionality arrived in what would possibly greatest be described as a restricted utility. It can measure wrist temp however appears unable or unwilling to let you know your temperature.And this issues to me, because it ought to to you.We stay within the fashionable age of temperature taking. Gone are the horrifying days when mother would wave a glass thermometer in entrance of our faces earlier than asking us to roll over and current our bottoms. Today, we have now digital mouth thermometers, touch-based brow temp gauges, and, my favourite, the infrared temp "guns" docs now level at your cranium whereas standing at the very least two ft away to collect immediate temperature information.I've been carrying Apple Watch 8 and its twin temp sensors for greater than per week and nonetheless cannot let you know my temperature.This is by design. Even although Apple sells to female and male prospects, the temperature-sensing capabilities appear largely dedicated to serving to ladies perceive their temperatures' relation to ovulation.Assuming a girl is monitoring her menstrual cycle (which you are able to do within the Apple Health app), they will use the info to know when their temperature deviates from a baseline and the way that coincides with ovulation and fertility. The data is mostly a look again or a retrospective estimation of when a girl ought to have ovulated, based mostly on previous cycles and temperature adjustments. If conception will not be taking place when you need to be fertile, it'd assist establish if there is a matter.This is, clearly, a fantastically essential instrument for couples making an attempt to start out a household. My youngsters are grown, I'm not feminine, and but I nonetheless have this Apple Watch 8, and its twin temp sensors.(Image credit score: Future / Lance Ulanoff)Sleep timeFor me, the utility revolved round sleep and the way my temperature adjustments throughout in a single day hours. The system required roughly 5 days of carrying the Apple Watch 8 as I slept, as a way to construct a temperature baseline.I hate sleeping with something on my wrist. At one level, to get a really feel for the Samsung Galaxy Watch 5 and the way it in comparison with the Apple Watch, I slept with one on every wrist. It was depressing, particularly as a result of the beefy Galaxy Watch 5 was so uncomfortable. At least the Apple Watch 8 will not be too noticeable throughout my snooze hours.Over the previous week, I received fairly used to carrying the Apple Watch 8 to mattress, with the one stress round determining how and when to cost the watch when I'm now carrying it virtually 24/7. It largely comes all the way down to charging it whereas I'm within the bathe and through the weekend when I attempt to take a mid-day tech break. I dutifully wore the watch each evening till I lastly received a wrist temperature studying within the Health app. There's no temperature app or part within the Apple Watch 8 and you will solely see the wrist temp studying within the app if you happen to dig into "All Health Data."The pattern line was attention-grabbing, as I observed it began low on a Friday, spiked on Saturday, after which wiggled across the center for the remainder of the week, maybe with a bit an excessive amount of downward pattern.Does all of this sound imprecise to you? It ought to. All I can see is a deviation from my baseline temperature. What is my baseline temperature? I don't know.I've searched in every single place for that information level and have requested Apple to inform me the place I discover it, what it's, and why I can not know.Hello, unknowable baseline. (Image credit score: Future)Why Apple does it this fashionApple has defined to me that, whereas indicator of general physique temperature whenever you sleep, nighttime wrist temperature will not be a measurement of core temperature, which is what a typical thermometer collects.

In different phrases, no temperature quantity, simply the variation from that unknowable baseline. Interestingly, your core temperature, the factor Apple doesn't measure, does change naturally when you go to sleep (opens in new tab). Thanks to your circadian rhythm, it goes down as you put together for sleep and rises as you put together to get up.Apple, by the best way, does this at evening as a result of, as you sleep, your blood vessels dilate, growing blood circulation to your limbs. Funny, I by no means considered how my extremities would possibly get a bit extra flush whereas I slumber.What do I do with this data? That's not completely clear. Your temperature can fluctuate for all kinds of causes. Sickness and a fever can be apparent ones. Less apparent could be, say, alcohol consumption earlier than mattress. If the in a single day fluctuation regarded prefer it fell method under or above the baseline, maybe I ought to go to the physician. But then what do I say to them? "Hey, doc, my temperature...um...my baseline, temp...uh....my Apple watch 8 is showing that my temp is off. Can I come by?"Expert opinionNot being a health care provider and with solely a restricted understanding of the worth of temperature fluctuations, I made a decision to talk to a medical skilled. Texas heart specialist Dr. Hafiza Kahn (opens in new tab) spoke to me by telephone and schooled me on the artwork and science of human temperature measurement.First, she defined the "gold standard" of temperature measurements is, for adults, oral, and, in youngsters, rectal measurement. I used to be glad she could not see my face once I realized that that was nonetheless a factor. The subsequent greatest technique to measure core temp is thru the ear with a sensor that reaches the tympanic membrane that separates your outer ear from the interior ear.The least correct is, naturally, the infrared weapons I discussed above. She described them as "gross-screening tools." They'll catch outliers (like a extremely excessive temp) however miss quite a bit, too.Dr. Khan hasn't tried the brand new Apple Watch 8 or its temperature sensors however has a stable understanding of comparable gadgets. She talked fairly a bit in regards to the Whoop, a subscription-only health band designed for professional sports activities. It can measure pores and skin temperature utilizing, amongst different issues a mixture of inexperienced and crimson sensors. Dr. Kahn additionally defined that whereas inexperienced infrared lights, corresponding to those used on Apple Watches, are efficient for penetrating the pores and skin and hitting blood vessels (the sensors learn the sunshine bounceback to grasp numerous well being metrics), crimson lights penetrate extra and are thought-about extra correct.Apple's strategy, temperature adjustments towards a baseline, appears to jive with what Dr. Kahn would count on of such a tool. “What’s essential will not be a single level in measurement, what’s essential is a pattern," she told me.However, when I explained that Apple offers no information on the baseline, what we assume is skin temperature (always a few degrees lower than your core), she seemed surprised. To expect to see that data somewhere, "that is not far afield," she said.Still, Dr. Kahn sees the value of the trend info for spotting, say, changes that could offer an early warning of an infection. Then she added, "The pattern is essential, but it surely's good to have the quantity, as effectively."I understand Apple's approach and can see the obvious value in both the fertility tracking and for being aware of unexpected changes in baseline temp, but can't help but be disappointed.Apple packed two temperature sensors into the watch. Virtually every single Apple Watch sensor up to this point, including heart rate, ECG, and noise level, has offered on-demand readings.Temperature, though, is a muted affair: two sensors that have a part-time overnight role and offer you, at best, vague information.

While I appreciate Apple adding these sensors to Apple Watch 8, I don't think it's too much to ask for the baseline skin temperature number. A disclaimer (Dr. Khan's suggestion) could make it clear that this is not the core and that if you're concerned, stick a thermometer in your ear...or somewhere else.Today's greatest apple watch sequence 8 offers [ad_2] Source link

[hannah-deserved-better]

Under the Prairie Moon: July rare-pair challenge

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 20 | truthfulnomad vs. rodiniaorzetalthepenquin

Prompt: Stargazing

Ship: Castiel/Hannah

Word Count: 3311

Tags/Warnings: No warnings

Summary: Castiel and Hannah explore their senses under a night sky.

AO3 Link: optional/if applicable

                          Under the Prairie Moon

“Emotions, feelings… they are dangerous temptations.” Those words played over in Castiel’s head as he moved through the hallway of the Winchester’s bunker towards the kitchen where he thought he heard chatter. As he came into the doorway, he found Hannah talking to Sam standing over the coffee machine. The aroma of the coffee filled the air. They were both talking to one another, their attention on the coffee maker neither had noticed him yet. Castiel observed the scene before feeling a presence beside him. Glancing sideways, he saw Dean standing there dressed in his bathrobe, watching the scene as well. “Dean you should be resting,” Castiel pointed out, casting a look of concern Dean’s way. Dean hadn’t been human again for very long. Castiel and Hannah had arrived just in time to help cure him of being a demon. Tension still hung in the air, Dean still had the mark, and Castiel’s grace, though replenished by Adina, was still fading. But for now, for right now, they could all take a deep breath. “You and her have been traveling together all this time?” Dean asked, ignoring Castiel’s insistence on further rest as they watched Hannah and Sam interact. “How’s that been?” “Good,” Castiel replied. “We’ve been hunting rogue angels who have refused to return to heaven after the fall. They got a taste of freedom and are unwilling to give it up.” “Can’t say I blame them,” Dean said with a shrug. He studied the angel for a minute as Castiel kept his gaze on Hannah. A pause passed between them. “Cas… are you two… you know.” Castiel whirled quickly to meet Dean’s green eyes, startled at that blunt statement. “No,” he said quickly. Though, as he thought on it, he’d recalled the few moments between them. How she’d grabbed his arm, the despair in her eyes over his impending death. How he’d felt when Adina threatened Hannah’s life. “I told her that the mission was too important,” he said after a while. “That emotions are dangerous temptations. But… when I saw Adina holding a blade to Hannah’s neck… I felt…” “Yeah…” Dean sighed. He understood. “Look, man, I know you angels don’t really… get things sometimes. And I know there are a lot of things on all of our plates right now. But… and I don’t mean to go all Hallmark on you, I’d hate to see you overlook a good thing.” Castiel cocked his head, looking at Dean. He wasn’t sure he understood. Dean sighed and continued. “Look you two have been hanging around the bunker for a few days now. Sam and I have both noticed.” “Noticed what?” Castiel asked. He had an idea he knew what Dean meant, even if he tried not to see it himself. “Dude, you must be blind,” Dean replied. “Haven’t you noticed the way she looks at you? And it’s not just that crazy cultish way from before. And yeah, I know you know about as much as some 15-year-old prom date when it comes to this sort of thing, but I think you should take it seriously. Because you two could have something important here.” “How are feelings important?” Castiel asked. “I’m an angel, Dean.” “Yeah, I got that,” Dean shook his head. “Look, man, I gotta say I’m a little envious. You two have something going on that Sam and I have had very little of. And we’re human. I’m not even talking about a chance to get laid either, I’m talking about the real deal. Those kind of feelings are about as common as winning the lottery and you’d be a fool to pass that up.” Castiel sighed. He couldn’t deny that the experience over the past few days had been enjoyable. Maybe even more than enjoyable. The hours he’d spent talking to Hannah about humanity as they drove had meant more to him than he had realized. And it was all too clear to him how she felt. Though she had tried to deny it, she’d demonstrated multiple times how she felt. Pleading with him over his grace, even willing to go as far as to let Metatron out of prison. He never would have imagined that someone, another angel no less, would make that kind of effort for him. “How… do I proceed?” He asked after a time. Dean shrugged. “Leave that to me and Sammy,” Dean said, somewhat cryptically. With that, he strode into the kitchen, finally gaining the attention of its two occupants, who both looked in their direction. “Hey Sammy!” he said. “Get dressed, we need to go into town.” “Town?” Sam looked confused. “What for?” “Some things,” Dean said simply, grabbing Sam by the arm and hauling him away. Castiel approached Hannah who held a mug of coffee in both her hands. Her blue eyes scanned him as he came to stand in front of her. “Castiel,” she greeted as she inhaled the steam rising up from the coffee. “Sam Winchester was showing me how this device works. Coffee contains caffeine and I thought perhaps it would help you get your energy back.” Castiel had to smile at the subtle ways Hannah tried to care for him. He doubted that something as simple as caffeine would cure his fading grace, but he took the mug from her hands and took a sip, feeling touched. “Hannah,” he began, seriously, as he motioned for her to follow him as he moved to sit down at the table. She focused her attention on him as she sat down across the table, watching eagerly as he took another sip of coffee. “We should be heading out soon. Now that Dean is on the mend, we have to turn our attention to gathering all the rogue angels.” “I understand,” she said, her eyes never moving away from him. He locked eyes with hers, those large blue eyes of hers conveyed something he hadn’t considered before. Not just emotion- which for an angel was unique enough- but passion. Depth. “I’d like to know something before we go,” he continued. “What do you want?” She cocked her head in confusion. “Want?” she repeated as if he’d asked a very difficult question. And he knew he had. “I don’t understand. What do my wants have to do with this mission?” “Everything,” Castiel said quickly, then, leaning forward, “I appreciate your effort on this mission. I couldn’t have come this far without you. But I’m afraid I’ve neglected your wishes, so I’d like to know what they are.” She looked stunned. She blinked, glancing down at her hands as she seemed unsure of what she should say. “I want what you want,” she replied. Castiel sighed. How could he make her understand? It’s not as if he could blame her for her confusion. She was an angel, angels were hardwired to obey. The idea of having their own choices was foreign. He recalled how hard it was for him to learn how to think for himself when he first met Sam and Dean. He got up from his chair and moved around the table to sit down beside her. She swiveled in her seat to gaze up at him before he sat down and shifted to be eye level with her. “Hannah,” he began. “There are certain things to being on Earth that you should understand. Down here, it’s important to be able to think for yourself. Develop your own interests, tastes, and desires. Make your own choices. You don’t need me to tell you what to do.” “But we are angels, Castiel,” she pointed out. “Freedom is what breeds rogues like Daniel and Adina. I don’t want to be like them. I want to be an angel.” “I want to be an angel too,” Castiel agreed. “But I’ve learned that there is some flexibility, a common ground between their way and our way. Sometimes you have to understand that not everything is so clear-cut, especially down here on Earth. Not everything is about law and order. Sometimes we have to learn to make our own decisions. It was something I had to learn once.” “And how did you learn?” Hannah asked curiously. “How do I decide what I want? What if I decide wrong?” “I’m still learning,” Castiel responded. “And I agree it is a risk. My choices have cost me dearly in the past and I’ve made some mistakes that have hurt myself and those around me. But I think I’ve gained a lot as well. My friendship with Sam and Dean, I wouldn’t have had that if I didn’t learn to think for myself. I’m offering you the same thing.” He could almost see her mulling this over in her mind. He worried that he wouldn’t be able to get through to her. Maybe Dean was wrong about all of this, maybe there was no emotion at work here, maybe she was just an angel following another angel. But when she glanced back at him, she wore a pensive look on her face. Hesitantly, she reached her hand over and placed it over his on the table. He responded by taking her hand and placing it in between both of his. “I want you to live, Castiel,” she said. “You said emotions were dangerous, so I’ve tried to avoid them. But when I think of you’re fading grace, about how I might be forced to watch you deteriorate again and there is nothing I can do to stop it…” she suddenly turned her eyes away from him, glancing in the opposite direction so he couldn’t see her face. “We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” he offered. He knew the subject of his death had been a sensitive one between them and he hadn’t realized till then how he’d continued to ignore and brush off her feelings over it every time she brought it up. He felt a twinge of guilt over he hadn’t stopped to consider her in this at all before. “For now, I want to focus on you, Hannah.” “How do I do that?” she asked. She pressed the palm of her hand against her torso as if indicated something inside of her. “I have felt… things. Curiosities.” “I’ll show you,” Castiel offered. “But you have to be open to exploring new experiences. Can you?” She nodded. Castiel took in a breath, feeling somewhat satisfied. He’d taken the first step. Retracted what he’d said before and given her the permission she needed to explore herself. They would take the rest of the steps together. 00000 Dean hadn’t been lying when he said he and Sam had a plan. Later that evening, Castiel found himself hiking out across the prairie that surrounded the bunker, heading for a far-off hill. He carried a boom box, a picnic basket, and a few blankets. He glanced down at his attire. Sam and Dean had thought of everything, though Castiel failed to see the point of changing his clothes. He wore a pair of trousers, a simple white shirt, and a blazer. Glancing over at Hannah, he admired her change of clothing. She wore a long flowing bright blue floral maxi dress and carried a large bouquet of lavender sprays. The way the dress flowed behind her in the wind, along with her dark chestnut hair dancing around her head made her seem almost fantasy like. Castiel had to admire her beauty, her gracefulness. She was like a fairy moving effortlessly through the grass. Of course, being an angel, Castiel could see more of her than just her vessel. He saw the beautiful white creamy wings with golden yellow tips. He’d seen them all along, though they were invisible to humans. They were a sharp contrast to his ebony black wings. “What did they call this?” Hannah asked as she glanced at him. She frowned when she caught his eyes lingering over her form. “Am I wearing this garment wrong?” she asked with concern. “Sam Winchester told me to wear it.” “No,” he assured her, clearing his throat, feeling embarrassed that he’d been caught staring. “I like it. It’s… flattering.” He stumbled over his words, but he hoped he put her mind at ease. Blushing, he turned his attention to the prairie ahead of them. “This is a picnic,” he explained. “It’s a ritual that humans often engage in.” He stopped when he finally made it to the top of the hill. From this vantage, they could see far off in the distance as the prairie seemed to stretch on all around them. Hannah gazed down at the farms and small communities dotting the landscape below. As Castiel spread out a blanket and knelt down to set his items on it, he watched her reaction carefully. She looked astonished by the spectacular sight, though he noted a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Humans alter the landscape,” Hannah commented as Castiel stood and moved to her side. “They put up fences and barriers that block animals from coming and going as they please.” “It’s their nature,” Castiel offered. “Humans like to hoard their possessions, even the land. It’s unfortunate, I agree.” “There’s no need for fences, borders, or walls,” Hannah responded. “If humans allowed one another the freedom to come and go as they pleased, perhaps it would be better for them. Why create countries and kingdoms when they are all just humans in the end?” “That’s a complicated question,” Castiel admitted. “I’m not sure I have a good answer. Humans are driven to hoard resources and compete with one another. There is much I admire about them, but there is much more that is very flawed. Humans can be violent, greedy, bigoted, and many are quite dangerous. But others can be kind, selfless, brave, and valiant. And let's not forget that we angels are not without our flaws.” He motioned for her to sit down on the blanket as he did so as well. He opened the basket and laid out all its contents. A bottle of wine, cheddar cheese, bleu cheese, coppa salami, beef jerky, crackers and vinegar spread, horseradish, olives, smoked salmon, and some brownies. Hannah gazed over the food with fascination. “We are here to explore our senses,” Castiel explained. “Sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. Humans can derive great pleasure out of these sensations, and I want you to learn about the things you find appealing.” Hannah surveyed all the food items set out before her while Castiel turned on the boom box which started playing soothing piano music. Castiel watched Hannah’s reaction carefully as she listened. “I like this sound,” she said as she gazed out over the prairie. “And the sounds around us.” Castiel listened up as well. The day’s symphony of birds chirping in the thick grass, of thrushes and pheasants calling to one another across the vast seas of golden yellow, were being replaced by crickets chirping, frogs croaking, and owls hooting. That mixed with the piano music made for a pleasant melody. Castiel turned his attention to the food. He was unfamiliar with much of it and he wanted Hannah to have a good first experience with eating so he had to select something carefully. Making his decision, he grabbed the brownie and handed it to her. “Many humans are fond of sweets and of chocolate in particular,” he explained as she took it from his hand and examined it cautiously. For a moment it looked like she was going to back out, she seemed hesitant, almost disgusted with the prospect of eating. “Try it,” he urged gently. Finally, she took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully, before her eyes lit up in excitement. “I had no idea!” she exclaimed triumphantly, a bright smile crossing her face. Castiel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and couldn’t help but smile as well, her excitement was contagious. “Chocolate. It’s so… stimulating!” She eagerly finished the entire brownie, and he frowned a little, realizing he wasn’t going to get any of it. Her eyes scanned the rest of the items spread out before her and one by one, encouraged by the success of the brownie, she and Castiel tried each one. Not all of the food items were successful, the horseradish and the vinegar spread caused a rather violent response, and Castiel frowned as Hannah gagged, spitting them both out into the grass. Castiel turned to the wine. Hannah started a little when he popped the bottle opened and poured each of them a glass. He handed Hannah one as they both leaned back on their sides, beside each other. Hannah sipped her wine and peered across the small space between them, her eyes sparkled in the brilliant orange of the sunset. “What comes next?” she asked. Her mood had lightened considerably, there was a lightheartedness, almost playful way that the wind rustled her hair as the dark trusses danced about her face. “We watch the stars,” he explained. They finished their wine and Castiel, feeling a chilly breeze between them, retrieved the other blanket and draped it over Hannah as she shifted to a laying position in the grass and stared up at the sky. He watched her for a moment, her eyes wide with wonder. Satisfied with what he saw in her eyes, he settled down beside her, his body beside hers, as he focused on the sky. Powdery white clouds passed overhead, illuminated in shades of purples, oranges, and yellows as the sun cast it’s last light on them. The moon took its place, a massive round full moon, glowing at them as the sky darkened and one by one, billions and billions of stars began to fill the sky. “They’re so endless,” Hannah commented from beside him, her voice soft and expressive. “I could never tire of them. They were the one thing that got me through…” Castiel moved his head to glance at her. The faraway look in her eyes told him she was recalling something. But before she could continue, she suddenly let out a gasp. Castiel turned his gaze and saw a meteor shoot across the sky. Then another. Soon, dozens and dozens started raining from the sky. The meteor shower had begun, but it wasn’t having the intended effect. Hannah tensed noticeably beside him as she shot up to a sitting position. “No!” She exclaimed emotionally. “The angels!” She visibly shook, gripping her head in between her hands as if trying to physically push the image out of her mind. “No, it’s not,” Castiel assured her as he sat up to face her, wincing at the fear he saw in her eyes. “They’re just meteors. Pieces of rock. It’s not an angel fall. I-” without warning, she surged forward, her head collided against the top of his chest. Her body quivered and he, surprised by the sudden embrace, pulled her in. “Oh Hannah,” he said, his breath rustling her hair as he pressed his head against the top of her neck, bundling her tightly between himself and the blanket she had wrapped around her. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized.” The angel fall, which Hannah had been a victim of, had been very traumatic, and although he hadn’t been part of it, he could only have imagined the terror, the confusion. After a moment of shaking, Hannah composed herself and sat upright, her eyes rising up to meet his, glistening with emotion. “It was terrifying,” she admitted. “To be alone in this strange land. So alone, Castiel. And all I wanted to do was go home.” “I’m sorry,” he offered, feeling that all too familiar twinge of guilt. “For my part in your horror.” Hannah regarded him for a moment, saying nothing, just looking. And Castiel looked right back, searching the depth of emotion in those big, soulful eyes.

The fear slowly faded from her face to be replaced with something else. Something more sensual. She shifted, inching closer, so close to him, so close he could feel the heat of desire coming off of her. Her eyes glistened in sultry passion, becking him silently. He leaned into her, pressing his lips to hers gently, closing his eyes, savoring the sensation. She leaned into him, and he lowered himself back to the grass, pulling her down with him, never breaking the kiss. The moment between them was sweet but powerful. When she pulled back, only to shift back down to the ground, he responded by pulling her against him, and she returned the kiss greedily and without abandon. That was how two angels fell in love, stargazing under the prairie sky.

[knightofbalance-13]

https://sokumotanaka.tumblr.com/post/174162891984/makas-character-vs-rubys-lack-of-it

I barely know much about Soul Eater...and yet even I knew you’re full of shit

Sad thing is: you’re making SOUL EATER look bad, not RWBY.

“I struggled what to call this hell what to even talk about given ruby’s lacking characterization.

In this waste of post I want to talk about how miles in unfair to soul eater by ignoring maka’s character and point on the already known lacking bits of ruby’s.“

Spoiler alert: He’s gonna be FAR more unfair to both parties but especially Maka.

Now if you’re not familiar with soul eater I suggest watching the anime then reading the manga do to it branching off from the anime (But I say do both cause you’ll miss some amazing voice acting, animation and music from skipping the anime.)

Seriously? You are gonna argue Maka Albarn’s character...by recommending the ANIME?

The same anime that COMPLETELY fucked over Maka’s character into being an unlikeable, obnoxious bitch who randomly assaults male characters for showing attraction to female characters as well as being irrational about her father to the point that she has to be FORCED to spend time with a man who literally revolves his life around her? 

See, this kind of paints a bad picture of you Soku: YOU SOUND LIKE A SOUL EATER STAN. You sound like you are so blind with admiration for the series that it can do no wrong in your eyes, despite the fact that the anime fucked over Maka by flanderizing aspects of her character to the point of making her unlikeable (believe me, I tried my DAMNDEST to like Maka in the anime) and making a DEUS EX MACHINA ENDING. No amount of animation, voice acting and music can salvage something like these two.

Maka’s a scythe master, a cheerful young girl she’s direct, she loves books to the point of having to be dragged outside by friends and she’s a brilliant strategist. I love maka cause she’s very hardworking as we would see evident to both media she’s from she’s constantly striving to reach goals better fighters can get to on pure strength and shows that a strong mind can overcome a stronger fighter.

And the best part is we’re shown her reading books, she’s often reading something that catches her interest or studying to better herself. (It’s even a plot point when needed to learn more about a scholar and powerful fighter from the past.) Although she’s now without her flaws, she grows past them to work alongside her friends even if certain one’s can try her patience. 

Funny how you don’t mention these flaws and just gloss over them. Almost as though you feel insecure about Maka.

Let me inform everyone about Maka’s flaws: She’s irrational. She hates her dad for cheating on her mom which is understandable...to an extent. Thing is, her dad Soul REVOLVES HIS LIFE AROUND HER. He makes it constantly clear that he loves Maka with all his heart and soul and is constantly CRUSHED by her rejections. It’s said that Maka does this because she fears rejection but if that were the case then why would she subject her own father to that?

Not only that, Maka has a SEVERE tendency to assault male characters for acting perverted. Like, I know this is a thing in anime but with the way the she acts, you’d think she’s assault Mineta or Master Roshi, not guys casually remarking about people’s attractiveness. In fact, Maka’s pretty tempermental as well, attacking a lot of people who annoy her. Not to mention how she doesn’t read to better herself, she does it because she’s competitive and insecure, to the point it fucks with her in battles and in school. And for a few these (like her issues with her father): She never gets over.

Which is FINE. It’s her character. Not this Mary Sue cardboard cut out you made. The Maka YOU described sounds boring, unrelatable and fucking bad.

Now let’s go over Ruby

Despite ruby’s quick deterioration as a character she did have some characteristics to her in the past, in volume 1 she was afraid to branch out and used her sister as a security blanket, she had a fondness for weapons but it has dropped for a while then only brought up once, she was optimistic to a fault as that was the only trait she has as we continued, and she also likes books but mentioned it once and we’ve yet to see her bring it up again.

Gah! see this is me genuinely trying to like ruby as a character but sadly she’s not got as much to offer as maka does. Ruby as does many other character in rwby start deconstructing as characters as the series continues, I can’t remember the last time ruby did something smart enough for anyone to consider her a strategist (I mean I guess shooting nora was smart but  you could accomplish the same thing by giving her electric dust, and the plan falters when you all smile tipping the villian off.)

yeah yeah, misrepresenting RWBY because you’re so insecure you feel a need to manipulate info.

Ruby is socially awkward. This shows numerous times throughout the series from not wanting to go to Beacon due to hwo weird she’d look there to being unable to communicate with Weiss properly due to her missing out on sarcasm and freezing up to her inability to talk things out with Weiss to her awkwardness at the dance to even meeting Winter. Look I listed like five examples.

Ruby is also heroic to a fault, rushing in against opponents without thinking as well as prioritizing others above her self. She attacked the Nevermore without thinking. She went after Cinder by herself without reinforcements. She goes up against the Nevermore in Volume 3 without thinking. She bottles up her emotions like in volumes 4 and 5.

Ruby is also flexible in her beliefs as seen in volumes 4 and 5 where she acknowledges she was wrong about how she viewed the world but still kept her beliefs by adjusting them to how her worldview has changed.

She’s inspiring as shown in how people tend to follow her example, like Jaune did in Jaunedice. Or how Blake’s view of things changed to be more like Ruby’s Or how she literally caused the events of Volumes 4 and 5 by being unwilling to let things go in Volume 3, inspiring JNR to follow her. 

She’s also kind and trusting, like how she never tries to kill her opponents as well as trying to get Raven on her side in Volume 5.

And she’s gotten a will that would match up with a Gainax protagonist with how much shit she takes.

And even here you’re wrong because Ruby used the distraction of Blake’s arrival to send her best fighter to retrieve the Relic before the bad guy’s could!

Again, you sound insecure, like the moment you actually talk about Ruby she’ll outshine even your Mary Sue version of Maka so you jut shake your hand and avoid the topic.

It makes me think miles didn’t actually bother reading/watching soul eater and in terms of character hell in terms all around, fighter, character, positive female role model maka triumphs over ruby no doubt about it.

....

Maka can’t fight worth a shit without Soul and even then her feats, at ebst, are BARELY better than Ruby’s.

This Maka HAS no character aside from Mary Sue.

And this Maka has no flaws so why aspire to be her instead of the flawed but determined and kind Ruby?

Yeah, this is why I don’t want you to talk about Soul Eater and RWBY: You seem so insecure that you try to cover up Soul Eater’s ‘flaws’ but end up making it look worse. God I doubt YOU’VE read Soul Eater. I've shown a deeper knowledge of it and I barely have any first hand experience with it. Most of what I know is from friends and the wiki.

I made this cause  wanted people whom know about soul eater and don’t to know the diservice miles did in writing it off instead of learning from it and using it to improve his story.

... this sentence makes no sense. Even I write better than this.

Best I can say here is: you never provide a link to the Soul Eater thing Miles said. And I don’t find it ANYWHERE. So I’m just gonna assume you lied.

And honestly Soku, You’ve done such a disservice to Soul Eater I think you turned people off it. You made their main character look like a damn Mary Sue and made it look so weak that it needs help beating fucking RWBY. I honestly believe you’re a misguided Soul Eater Stan.

Tune in next whenever when I talk about how one sided a ruby vs maka death battle would be. 

Listen, nobody wants Maka to win more than me. Not because I like Soul Eater mind you but because I want Ben and Chad to get out of this scott free and I know you’ll assault them if they say otherwise.

HOWEVER I looked up Maka and Ruby on Vs. Battle Wiki...

http://vsbattles.wikia.com/wiki/Maka_Albarn

http://vsbattles.wikia.com/wiki/Ruby_Rose

... Yeah, Maka’s best feats are all reliant on the Black Blood Armor against Asura...which only WORKS with Asura or great amounts of Madness so it doesn’t work with Ruby.

So lets’ take the feats that actually work against normal people:

Maka:

Attack Potency: Building Level

Speed: Hypersonic+

Lifting Strength: Class 5

Striking Strength: Building level

Durability: Building Level

Stamina: Large

Ranga: Extended Melee, Several Meters with porjectiles

Intelligence: High

Ruby:

Attack Potency: Large Building

Speed: Hypersonic+ (WITHOUT her Semblance)

Lifting Strength: Class K

Striking Strength: Large Building

Durability: Large Building

Stamina: High

Range: Extended Melee, Several hundred Meters with Crescent Rose

Intelligence: High

... Yeah...

Things are NOT looking good for Maka. Her best powers only work against opponents in HER world while Ruby’s are so general that they can be applied universally.

I might be wrong here: I’m gonna read Soul Eater more after this to learn more but...even my friends who know Soul Eater say things are really close.

Just stop doing this Soku! You’re making SOUL EATER look bad!

[redheadshenanigans]

Raised: A Castiel story

Castiel is fighting to get to Dean Winchester, he has been ordered by God. Nothing will stop him but Hell is vast and desolate and he is running out of time. Then a voice calls to him, someone who knows the way, someone who knows Dean very well...

Can Castiel save Dean? Will he want to be saved?

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: blood/violence 

Cast: Dean, Cas, John. W

The angels had been fighting for days, the demons kept coming, it was relentless. Castiel was leading the charge, injured and exhausted. The surprise attack should have neutralized this, however, they had underestimated the protection the target had. Dean Winchester was a prize and Hell was unwilling to relinquish him. Failure was not an option and Cas kept pushing his people. It was a sustained barrage of blood and pain but they were close now, so close and they had to keep going. Their numbers had halved since they had entered Hell and if they didn’t get Dean soon Castiel knew they would have to withdraw.

Again, this was not an option. Castiel wasn’t the most impressive of angels, not the biggest or strongest but he was a loyal soldier and when tasked with something important he was focused, determined. He had been tasked with raising Dean Winchester’s soul from Hell and he would succeed.

The next day Urial got word of an opening in the rear flank, that was his cue. Castiel broke from his brethren and hurtled through it. The demon Alastair had Dean in the cells so Cas made his way there at light speed. Once he was past the main defences he slowed down and looked harder.

Travelling through the filth and fire he wished for a vessel, something to keep all the muck from his light but the thought was fleeting, he knew this was the only way. A vessel would only slow him down. Spiralling through the torture chambers looking for one soul was like finding a needle in a needle stack and Cas was running out of time.

Enough passed to make the angel nervous, he was alone in the bowels of the most hostile place ever created with no kin at his back. Turning the last corner in this series of dungeons, if they could be called that, Cas heard someone calling. It was faint at first, but a soul was calling his name, he almost ignored the plea, almost. It was such a strange thing that he allowed himself to be distracted but he eventually followed it to a small dark cell.

The room was like most things in hell, flexible depending on the mind it housed and this mind was human. Cas toned down his light but knew the soul wouldn’t be harmed by him no matter how bright. The human was ragged and broken. Castiel wanted the man to remain calm and allowed the human's mind to take his light and shape it into a form that he could understand. The mirage that he became was stocky, yet slim with dark hair. Castiel admired the human’s choice for a moment, it was interesting. The long coat he wore swung as he moved. The projection was detailed which was surprising considering the state of the soul.

“Who are you?” The human shuffled back, terrified.

Castiel paused letting the man adjust and reached out with his light to take the edge from his suffering. This soul wasn’t supposed to be here, he knew that and it hurt him.

“You called me, human.” Castiel said gently, “You knew my name.” "I didn't..." The human stopped, taking a long look at the angel.

“You’re that guy, the one at the diner in Jefferson City.” He paused, rising from the wall. “We drank coffee and talked about our kids…Claire, I think you said?”

Castiel moved closer to the man, “What is your name?”

“John, John Winchester.”

Castiel took a step back.

“You are Dean Winchester’s father?”

“Yes, how did you…” John baulked, “You're not that Sales guy from the radio are you?”

Cas looked at the image he was holding, “No, this is an image from your mind. I assume you liked this man or found him...non-threatening?”

John took a second and nodded, “He was a little too focused on Jesus for me but you talk to whoever you can on the road. He’d been for some conference or something…”

“It is irrelevant. My name is Castiel, I am an Angel of the Lord and I am here to remove your son Dean from this place.”

“Dean’s here?” John cursed, sorrow filling his voice. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“John, I am running out of time.”

Winchester senior looked at the angel.

“Alistar has him doesn’t he?” Pain tore at his features.

“Do you know where he would take him?”

As the thought came Cas knew, he could see the place as John did, he could see it written all over the soul before him.

“I must go.” With that, he turned to leave but John grabbed his shoulder.

“Please, please find my son and if you get him back home…take care of him…and Sammy”

All the angels knew of Samuel Winchester and he couldn’t promise the father too much. The future of the Winchester men was going to be long and hard, however, he could promise one thing.

“I will watch over Dean on earth and do my best for them both.”

“Thank you, Castiel was it?”

He nodded.

“You remind me of him.” John added, and Cas looked confused, “Novack, that was his name…the guy you’re wearing. Good guy.”

“I am sorry, you do not deserve to be here but…”

“I made my bed, angel. Go get my boy.”

On that note Castiel fled, moving like the wind through the fiery tunnels towards the rack room. Castiel shuddered, he hated torture and dread filled him at what he may find on his quest.

Spaces were strange here, nothing moved like it did in reality. The rack room was endless and finite, it made no sense but nothing here really did.

On entering Castiel was taken back, Dean Winchester was pushing steel, no they were bone pins into a soul. It was a ragged, broken mess strapped to a table. Castiel recoiled as Dean stabbed the soul with stripped parts of itself and worse he looked exalted with every thrust. This was the soul he’d been sent to save? This broken, hateful damaged thing? Unsure he called its name and the human turned. Castiel pulled on the previous image he’d taken, the father had liked it so maybe the son would as well?

“Who? What are you?” Dean growled out.

“I am Castiel an Angel of the Lord and I am here to return you to earth.”

The soul did something completely unexpected and turned back to its task. Most wanted to be saved but this one, this one felt he deserved to be here; radiated it.

It was irrelevant of course, what the soul chose because Dean Winchester must be raised, God had commanded it.

“Dean, you must come now or I will have to force you and that will be…painful.” Cas knew it was an understatement, it would feel like being torn in two. Dean had to want to be saved and Castiel didn’t have time to pander to him, but maybe he could convince him?

“Your father seems to think you deserved to be redeemed.”

“Don’t you talk about him,” Dean growled and the noise was an irritation to Castiel, almost painful.

“I spoke to him only moments ago and he asked me to raise you, certain that you shouldn’t be here. His soul felt of nothing but love and reverence for his son’s, for you…he wished for you to return to Samuel.”

“Sammy…” Dean blinked back tears, "...he doesn't like Samuel." Castiel dared to hope. Dean was showing an emotion other than self-loathing.

Castiel acted swiftly and touched the damaged man, shudders and nausea rolled through him and he questioned the wisdom of putting something this broken back on earth; it wouldn’t last long in its current condition. It could become a Demon, or worse and that wasn't acceptable.

Tears slid down the soul’s face and it crashed to its knees. The pure touch of Castiel’s light shredded away the awful cloud of pain and hate for just a moment but it was enough for the angel to get a grip on him.

Soul’s appeared as light and shadow to Cas, like a human shape but with no details. This soul projected it’s human vessel so clearly that Castiel had to squint to see through the mirage. The soul was more dark than light but the shadows looked recent, corrupted here in hell, not on earth. Cas was now positive he had the right soul, but the seal had surely been broken. Regardless, God had willed it raised and he would do as commanded.

The angel knew it couldn’t return this Winchester to earth in this condition.

“Dean, I need to undo some of what has been done.”

The man looked up with large eyes as tears fell into the murky ground.

As Castiel considered whether it could even be done it hit him like a wall of knowledge and he knew in that instant it could. Amazed, he didn't know how as it was not an angels power but he just knew that now he had the ability that he needed. “I have to repair some of your soul, we don’t have much time and so… it will hurt.” As he warned Dean he knew that

Dean nodded, and the angel moved, grasping the left shoulder with his hand. Dean screamed as Cas’s light invaded him searing an imprint into the man’s atoms. Castiel screamed as he tore parts of himself away to fix the broken soul. The angel poured through the dark spaces and filled them out with light. No-one could know what Castiel was doing, if Dean ever fulfilled his role as Michael’s sword... the human would have more power than he should and Michael may realise. Castiel felt the shudder through his whole being, he could be cast out or worse. The light would fade but from here onwards, Dean Winchester would be part of him and Castiel would feel Dean throughout his human life. They were bound. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Little did he know how much of the human soul he was exposing himself too and as he bound Dean back together he bound himself to this fragile soul forever.

Once he was done, Cas raised Dean from that unholy place and forced him back into his vessel. The scars from the cleansing left a physical mark on the man's arm, a symbol that echoed its eternal counterpart on Dean's soul. Even if the mark was removed from his skin, the tissue would remember, the soul would still be marked.

The body required healing and he added some walls to the humans’ psyche, protecting him from his memories and the emotions until he could manage them. Dean wouldn’t remember him. The trauma from the rising would be too much but he would always seek him now, be drawn to him. It would fade as long as Cas kept his distance and he would, he promised himself. However, he would also keep his promise to the older Winchester and watch over Dean, from now until time ended, Dean Winchester would have an angel watching over him.

Fin-

All rights reserved

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187526

[livehealthynewsusa]

10 Ways to Build Mental Toughness

You don’t have to be “tough” to face the real challenges of life. It requires awareness, finesse and knowledge of one’s own mind. We have experts answering the questions we hear most about building mental strength. Use their strategies to improve your grit game. Not a single answer tells you that you are “man up”.

1) Can you get stronger physically without leaving your mental comfort zone?

“The body can only adapt when it faces something new, and new challenges will not always be pleasant,” says MH Fitness Director Ebenezer Samuel, CSCS So basically no. Your mind will also adjust to the discomfort and you will increase both your mental and physical strength. The secret: start small. “Add one to the goal you are pursuing each week,” says Samuel, “whether that means repeating another push-up for each set, adding another minute to your morning run, or holding a plank for another second . “

2) I hate to fail. Is there any way to end your obsession with what went wrong?

Start thinking like Michael Jordan. He considers himself a failure: by his count, he missed more than 9,000 shots. “Twenty-six times I was entrusted with taking the game-winning shot and missed,” he says. “I’ve failed over and over again in my life.” How did he get on? He went forward. “Making a mistake is just a source of feedback letting you know you’ve gone off course,” said Lisa Stephen, Ph.D., career, personal, and athletic performance coach and owner of Ignite Peak Performance in Vermont. “Use this data to focus on the next steps. Then forget about the mistake. You can imagine flushing it down the toilet or releasing it in a balloon. It’s about leaving the mistake behind and building on what you’ve learned. You can’t do your best if you focus on your worst. ”

3) Can I let go of negativity without writing a damn gratitude list?

Yes, by doing something for someone else. “One active approach to eliminating jealousy and negativity is to practice kind actions,” says psychiatrist Tracey Marks, MD, of Marks Psychiatry in Georgia. Start by giving others compliments and positive feedback. If you’re feeling extra generous, pay for it at a coffee shop or drive-through. There is some evidence that generosity is linked to activity in areas of the brain that are responsible for happiness.

However, if giving is frustrating (what about my needs?), Try gratitude without the list, says Dr. Marks. Spend a moment each morning thinking about what you are grateful for.

Jobe Lawrenson

4) My workload is ridiculous. How do I avoid burnout without dropping the pecking order in the office?

Learning to use the word “no” is natural for some of us, but it is slow for others. Many people don’t use it because they fear they will miss out on opportunities or be seen as unwilling by employers or customers. In reality, the opposite may be the case. “My experience is that if I say no, my worth increases,” says Elizabeth Day, creator of How to Fail podcast and author of Failosophy. “If you respect yourself, others will also respect you more.” “I can no longer get on with any other project” is an easier conversation than “I can no longer get along with this job”.

5) I am a hopeless procrastinator. How do I work out more get-up-and-go?

Let go of the concept of creative inspiration or you need to be “in the zone” to do what needs to be done. There will never be a right time to get the job done and if you wait for the mood to beat you will be waiting a long time. James Clear, author of the bestselling Atomic Habits, advocates sticking to a schedule rather than a deadline. If life gets in the way, reduce the size of the task – spend ten minutes instead of the allotted 30 minutes – but always stick to the schedule. Just don’t give yourself the option to skip it.

6. I am grappling with the loss of a loved one, but I need to be strong for my family. What can I do?

Being “strong” doesn’t mean holding back emotions and tears. “The way to show strength is not to be afraid to reveal your pain,” says Dr. Marks. “When everyone is hurt, the people who depend on you will see you as a role model for dealing with themselves.” If you hold everything back, you can telegraph that grief is a shame. To be strong, show how you feel.

Jobe Lawrenson

7. Reading the news often upsets and annoys me. How do I reset?

That is understandable; The news causes stress because it can create feelings of hopelessness and injustice. To process difficult news, try to create boundaries on how you can get it and find people to have meaningful conversations with about it, recommends psychiatrist and MH counselor on mental health Gregory Scott Brown, MD. Flight response in overdrive, do something to cool it down, like meditation or at least watching a fun, non-dramatic show.

Another solution: Swap passive news consumption for active discussion. Using the Black Lives Matter movement as an example, Eugene Ellis, founder and director of the Black, African, and Asian Therapy Network, points out the psychological benefits of talking to others. This can also help you know what action to take. “It’s an antidote to the feeling of powerlessness that many of us experience. When you start getting involved, you discover that beneath hopelessness lies the connection. And when you can find a connection, it’s easier to know what to do. “

Jobe Lawrenson

8. I’m doing an ultra marathon. Is it true that the mind is about the muscle?

“Ultras are likely 90 percent mental and 10 percent physical,” says Michael Wardian, a professional endurance runner who was one of only three people to have completed the Leadville 100-mile / Pikes Peak combined marathon (and the Backyard Ultra as well 2020). intense running mentally and physically). To master an ultra or endurance performance, “you have to have a big why. Don’t just run for social media, run for your kids or to prove something to yourself, ”he says. Also helpful: Rely on “chunking” – set yourself small goals such as reaching the next mailbox or the next refreshment point. You don’t always have to run to build your mental strength. “Get used to doing things that are uncomfortable for you,” he says. Set your alarm clock for 4:00 a.m. – or just do the dang dishes

9. I don’t have the patience to meditate. Can I reduce my stress differently?

“Yoga is an excellent way to reduce stress, and it’s good for people who can’t sit long enough to meditate,” says Dr. Marks. It also brings you stress relief benefits from two directions: As with meditation, focus on breathing, which can help relax the body. “And by stretching tense muscles, you release tension,” she explains. You don’t have to be flexible to do yoga and there are tons of virtual ways to practice it these days. Two of our favorites are Alo Moves and Apple Fitness +. Both offer a wide range of courses, from one-hour stress busters to ten-minute yoga snacks. (A side note: meditation is really worth persevering, so stick with it. Try an app like Calm, Headspace, or Ten Percent Happier to make it less boring.)

10) What should I say to someone who tells me to “get up”?

Read this article here.

This story originally appeared in the July / August 2021 issue of Men’s Health.

This content is created and maintained by a third party and imported onto this page to help users provide their email addresses. You may find more information on this and similar content at piano.io

source https://livehealthynews.com/10-ways-to-build-mental-toughness/

[fth2018offerings]

MissDavis - FTH Contributor Page

See MissDavis’s works here!

To contact the seller before bidding, please email missdaviswrites@outlook.com

If you have a very specific prompt and are not flexible, it’s best to contact the seller before bidding, even if it fits within their listed parameters. If you are asking for a specific kink, always ask first.

Charities these auctions benefit: Bidder's choice of any of the listed groups

(See full list)

MissDavis’s offerings:

MissDavis Auction #1

Type of fanwork: fanfiction Subtype(s): N/A Fandom(s): Sherlock (BBC) Highest rating creator will work with: E (explicit) Length: Less than 5K words Especially interested in: Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Mary Morstan/John Watson, (or no pairing is fine too!). My particular interests include: parentlock, retirementlock, daily life, humor, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, post s3 & s4 fics, established relationships. Unwilling to address: Evil Mary, infidelity, underage, noncon, incest, mpreg, omegaverse, other pairings unless you check with me before bidding. You also probably don't want me writing casefic, Moriarty in a major role, or ACD characters/plots that aren't on the BBC show (because I have no clue about ACD). Notes: If you've read a few of my works then you probably know what to expect! Feel free to email me before bidding if you're wondering if I could do a specific prompt. Length may be over 5K but I won't know until I see the prompt and start writing and I don't want to promise a certain length and not be able to deliver. My short work ranges from about 1K to over 10K.

Minimum Bid: $5

Auctions run from 8 January 2018 (Midnight, EST) to 14 January 2018 (Midnight, EST). Bids before or after this period are invalid and will not be counted.If you would like to bid on this auction:

Step 1: Check the bidding spreadsheet to find out what the current high bid is. (Note: It may take up to five minutes for a bid to appear.)

Step 2: Fill out the seller’s bidding form with a bid that is higher than the current high bid. If you want to make it harder for someone to outbid you, bid higher! You will NOT be notified if someone outbids you, so please bookmark this page and check frequently. You will only be notified if you are the high bidder after the auctions end.

Thanks for participating in Fandom Trumps Hate!

[silent-of-spirit]

MORE writing? Like, Two in three days? What? Sarah, what has gotten into you? 

I know, I know. It’s shocking, but I am trying not to question a good thing. Anyways, have more Fenris and Faye because they are my fonts of inspiration at the moment. Dunno why.

@ladylike-foxes

Fenris x Faye Amell - First Kiss

Takes place after this.

The first time he sees her smile, it is as though the clouds part and the world is flooded with light. He is entranced by the sight of it, and it becomes nearly impossible to keep his distance – to allow her the space he has given so she can heal without the pressure of his feelings.

The distance allows him to process as well, if he is being honest. He is still not sure what to make of the revelation that blindsided him on that rainy night when she broke in his arms. It is... different and confusing – something he was wholly unprepared for, and still is.

But oh, how it consumes him, something as simple as her smile sparking the fire within him all over again.

He sees it as a mark of her progress and does not press, merely smiles back – the first genuine smile he can remember – as Varric guffaws in the background.

“Dancing? W-was that a joke, Broody?” Varric can hardly contain himself, threatening to fall out of his chair. Fenris watches with an amused quirk of his lips and a cocked brow.

“It's completely true,” Marian pipes up, pushing herself away from where she lounged against Anders by the fire. The mage had been dozing, but startles awake at her movement, a brief flash of disappointment crossing his face as she pulls from his arms. Marian is the very picture of complete seriousness as she leans forward conspiratorially. “I've seen it. All hours of the day he just prances. He's really quite beautiful. That grace, that beauty, that flexibility...” She waggles her eyebrows on the last, a large smile finally breaking the false mask. “He could give any of the dancers at the Blooming Rose a run for their money.”

Varric loses it while Anders struggles to conceal a snort, cheeks coloring. Fenris rolls his eyes at Hawke's wink, but a smile tugs at his own lips. But then, the inexplicable; Faye laughs.

It is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

None of them mean to, he knows, but all of them fall silent, gazes turned toward the quiet woman in shock and joy. He swears Hawke's eyes are shining with unshed tears. Faye's widen at the sudden attention, and she ducks her head, embarrassment creeping up her neck and cheeks.

“That's a good thing to hear, Sparrow,” Varric says softly, looking every bit the proud papa he isn't. But he had adopted her in a way – the same way he had Brionna – and he wants only the best for them both. Faye is beloved by them all, forever winning them over with her gentle words and kind manner. She is the soothing rain after a wildfire, bringing comfort and peace whenever anyone shares her company. They three swarm her, and she squeals, the peals of her laughter ringing through the room.

He watches, reminded of a conversation months past – when they had both begun to trust each other, had begun to open up and slowly share their darkness... piece by piece. It was the beginning of recognizing they don't have to be alone – a turning point.

“I am afraid,” she had whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as she watched the rain from the window. So clearly he saw the memory of that night reflected in her eyes – the rain that had chilled her to her bones, and the ghosts of demons and memories that saw her flee. She closed her eyes, and a visible struggle had crossed her features.

He spoke, unwilling to see her shut herself back off so quickly. “What of?” He'd asked, voice gentle. She seemed surprised, turning her gaze to him with parted lips that did not seem to know how to form the words. She had never spoken of it, had never admitted its existence so openly – and he saw in her face that she hadn't meant to. There was so much uncertainty lingering in her eyes, and he understood it. He closed the book in his lap, set it aside as he rose. He took measured steps, allowing her the chance to tell him to stop, the chance to run – but she did neither. She watched as he seated himself in the chair beside hers and waited.

She had turned away, seeming tortured by her own confession, confused by her willingness to speak of it in his company, and he did not press. He sat, watching, allowing her to decide if she would reveal herself. He knew how hard it was.

Oh, how he knew.

“I'm not strong enough,” Her voice had been so pained – so utterly broken. “I watched as the demons claimed people whose strength I envied, those who had been bulwarks against the tide of cruelty. They fell so easily, and... and...” She took a shaking breath, fingers flicking away the tears that had slipped from her eyes.

He hadn't meant to, but he reached for her hand, gently pulling it back as she made to erase the evidence of her pain. He clutched it between both of his own, and it was so small... so cold. She had gasped at the contact, but did not pull away, instead turning her face so he could not see her tears.

He hadn't minded, his only thought to let her release them – to allow herself to feel it instead of hide from it.

“I learned before my Harrowing that demons will do anything to get out of the Fade. They will use your desires, your fears, your emotions – make promises and whisper in your ear the thing you want most so you will open yourself to their influence.” She paused, trembled, “But that's the thing; they have to be allowed. Those people I envied, those pillars of strength and knowledge... they were among the first to fall. What chance did I have?”

“You closed yourself off,” he said, voice rumbling between them. The way she stiffened gave him his answer.

“If I choose not to feel, then what can a demon use against me?”

He closed his eyes against the emotions that surged through him, memories of his own – demons of a different sort, content to tempt you with everything you want only to rip it from your grasp with a cruel sneer and laughter.

“I fear the same,” he confessed, unconsciously squeezing her hand in his grasp. She placed her free hand atop his – a gesture of solidarity, comfort, understanding.

Terrified to feel, of being used and having their control stripped from them...

Yet here they are, laughing and smiling and remembering how good it feels. She meets his eyes, and they are bright, shining with life and humor... until a strange sound causes them all to freeze, looking around in puzzlement.

“What was th-” Anders begins, but is interrupted by an obscene moan, muffled by the walls and very clearly sounding from the direction of Garrett's room. Anders' eyes widen, Marian has the look of mischief about her, Varric seems to pale slightly, and Faye has become scarlet from the tips of her ears to the collar of her dress.

“And that's my cue,” Varric grunts as he pushes himself up. Marian laughs, pinning him with an amused look.

“Aw, Ver-bear you should be happy for them! Maker knows they've been dancing around each other long enough,” She smirks as Varric waves a dismissive hand in her direction.

“I can be both happy for them and extremely uncomfortable that a girl I damn near see as my daughter is the one with him.” Marian bursts into laughter as the dwarf flees, pulling Anders to his feet the moment the door swings shut.

“I sense a friendly competition,” she says with a saucy wink, pushing the mage toward the stairs.

“W-what? Wait,” he tries to say, silenced by a swat on his rear.

“Time to show Garrett who the superior man is,” Marian says, giggling like a girl at his spluttered attempts at speaking. “I trust you can find your way out, Fenris,” she calls just before swinging her bedroom door shut.

Fenris shakes his head, chuckling softly to himself. Hawke certainly never lacks entertainment. He looks over to Faye, nearly snorts at the way she pointedly looks at everything but the two doors at the top of the stairs, face awash with color.

“Thank the Maker the doors to the library are thick,” she says shyly, shooting him an embarrassed look. He raises a brow.

“You're going to sleep in the library?”

She lets out a nervous, breathy laugh. “My room lies directly between theirs. The silence is preferable to their... uh... to that,” If possible, her flush grows deeper, and he cannot hold back the laugh now. She glances at him, sheepish, and pushes herself to her feet.

She is silent for a moment, shuffling her feet against the carpet in a nervous gesture he does not expect. The embers in the hearth crackle somewhere behind him, signaling the dying of the fire moments before the light in the room fades to a rosy glow.

Whatever has her nervous, she seems disinclined to speak on it, so he rises from his chair. He has no desire to stick around for the antics sure to ensue. The twins are competitive about everything, and it is utterly ridiculous the lengths they will go to one-up the other.

He stretches briefly, cracking his neck before nodding to Faye with a small smile.

“W-wait,” she says, clearing her throat, “I, um, I have another book for you,” She reaches into the pocket on her dress and pulls out a battered notebook. He recognizes it immediately, gaze flicking from the worn leather to her face. How long had he witnessed her scribbling in that very same book? Five years? Yes, he decides. Back when his prejudice had seen him hate her despite her silence. He feels a slight twinge at that.

She steps forward until she stands before him, holding the book aloft with slightly shaking hands. “I wrote it,” she says so quietly he almost wonders if he imagines it. “I wanted you to be the first to read it,” and he knows he doesn't imagine that. His breath seizes for a moment and he fixes her with the intensity of his gaze. He does not know how to tell her what it means, for her to trust him this way, to hand him a piece of her soul in the form of words.

“Thank you,” is what he says instead, hoping it conveys what he cannot. Their fingers brush as he takes it from her, and that single point of contact nearly sets him ablaze. Something hangs heavy in the dim light between them, and she looks shy. But finally, she lets go of the book, seemingly rattled as she makes to turn.

Right on that one edge of the foyer carpet that never likes to stay put.

She stumbles, begins to teeter back with wide eyes just as he catches her around the waist so that she falls into him instead. Her hands clench in his shirt, and she looks up at him with parted lips and flaming cheeks and he wonders if she can hear the way his heart pounds.

He should push her away. He shouldn't be this close, enough to smell her faint perfume, heady and intoxicating. He needs to give her space. He can't – doesn't want to – confuse her, doesn't want her to think that she has to return his affections. She needs time to heal. He needs to give her space. He needs to, he needs-

He can feel the way her heart flutters beneath his palm, gaze captured by her lips as she wets them with the barest flick of her tongue. He can't step away, can't move, can't breathe, dizzy with her proximity, with the way she feels beneath his hands. He needs to stop, he tells himself even as he dips his head, fingers twitching against her waist. He manages it just before their lips touch, breath coming fast as he tries to rein in the temptation. Her breath mingles with his in the scant space between them, and he struggles to pull back, to regain control over his wayward body.

But then, “Fenris,” his name whispered like a damn prayer, and he forces his eyes open to look at her, nearly shaking. Her gaze is hooded, but he can see something there – a certain need, pleading. A small hand smooths up his chest, clutches the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape.

And then she is pulling him down, closing the distance, and Maker, he must be dreaming when her lips brush against his. It is just the barest whisper of a thing, shy and hesitant, but it sets him ablaze. He has to close his eyes when she pulls away, has to grasp at the fraying ends of his self control before he breaks, before he scares her away – but when he opens his eyes he sees the worry in hers, the doubt that tells her she misjudged, and he could kick himself for allowing it even a moment to take hold in her mind.

He refuses to allow it to linger.

He pulls her flush against him, dipping his head to taste her, to feel her, and he distantly feels guilt at the way his mouth crashes against hers none too gently. But the guilt is gone as soon as it had come, and he is lost. Her lips are so soft and pliant, and already he is addicted to the way she clutches him, as though she is drowning and he is the only thing keeping her afloat. He can't get enough and his body sings as she kisses him back, needy, demanding, finally, the sharp tug at his hair causing him to growl as she attempts to pull him closer, closer, and it isn't close enough.

He leans over, diving into her as he deepens the kiss, nearly loses his mind at the sound she makes when he does so. She tastes divine, and he knows he would find contentment drinking from her lips for the rest of his days. He feels drunk, dizzy, breathless, lost in the way she molds herself to him so effortlessly, the way she begs with lips and tongue and sweet sounds.

Maker, finally, is the only thought that echoes in his mind and it is so much better than he ever imagined. He can't seem to stop, can't allow himself to pull away with the knowledge that she is just as lost as he is. He can't and again he tastes her, pushes her back, back, back until she hits the wall and breaks away with a gasp, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist without hesitation. He hisses at the way the action rubs her against him, and tangles his hand in her hair, pulling her head back to lave at her throat.

There is nothing but this moment. Nothing but the way she arches against him with a sound halfway between a whimper and a moan as he sinks his teeth into the junction of her shoulder. He is wild with need, with want, with the touch of her hands and her heart and her soul. With every kiss, every caress, he feels her. Not her body, but her – the woman she has hidden away beneath pain and trauma, begging to be set free. And she calls to him, the part of him that is buried and he feared to be gone. He finds her lips again; begs to be set free, to know her, all of her – those deep, dark places, her joy, her love, her sorrow, her pain. He wants it; wants her and he cannot find the words... cannot find a way to tell her... so he kisses her. He moves his lips against hers until his doubts are assuaged, until his body aches from want of more, until he is so dizzy and warm that he swears he must be drunk.

When they finally, finally, pull away they are both thoroughly wrecked. They try to catch their breath, chests rising hard and fast, eyes glossed over with want fixed squarely on the other's. He looks at her, intent on memorizing every detail of her face, and she blushes under his scrutiny.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, running a rough thumb over her swollen lips, watching the way she shudders. His eyes search her face and he doesn't know how to find the words to explain the way his heart swells. “Thank you,” he says again, hoarse and breathy. “Thank you,”

Something flashes in her eyes, and she places a gentle hand upon his cheek, pressing her lips against his once more with a tenderness that nearly makes him break.

“No,” she whispers, “thank you.”

They both are reluctant to pull apart, but they know they must. He places her back on the floor as gently as a babe, releasing her only when he sees she can stand properly. She smiles shyly, reaching for the book that lay forgotten in the chair he had tossed it to in his haste to catch her. She brushes her fingers over the cover, almost wistful in the way she looks at it.

“I, um, I hope you like it,” she says, avoiding his eyes as she hands it to him for the second time that night. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as again, he reaches for it, taking it with all the reverence he can muster.

“I know I will.”

She nods and turns toward the library. When she reaches the door, she pauses, standing still for a moment before glancing back at him over her shoulder, fingers pressed to her lips. She offers a radiant smile, all the more bright in the dim haze, and disappears into the room.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

If you're still doing animorphs reviews, #43 or #45?

(I’m not sure I have thoughts about #45 that I could articulate right now without just screaming Eva’s name for a page and a half, so…)

#43. The Test

Short opinion: The characterization of Tobias we get in this book is so awesome that it is a huge cryin’ shame every single other Animorph is so hideously mischaracterized. 

Long opinion:

I’ll get back to the extreme strangeness of everyone else’s behavior in a second, but first I want to talk about how much I love and adore Taylor as a character (I hate her as a person, obviously, but that’s why I love her) because of how well she serves as a foil for Tobias.  Not through being similar to Tobias, but through being so wildly unlike Tobias.  I know that teeechnically foils have to be similar to one another to draw attention to one another’s differences, but a big part of what’s so great about Taylor is that she and Tobias have nothing in common.  As I mentioned, it’s striking they don’t even understand each other, and they never start understanding each other no matter how much time they spend together.  Taylor’s a rich kid from a position of privilege who will do anything to have power over others, and she and Sub-Visser Fifty-One can’t even tell where one ends and the other one begins anymore.  Tobias has never known a day of security in his life, is motivated foremost by his desire to keep his friends and family safe, and—through Taylor’s interrogation of his decisions in #33—has come to a place of certainty about who he is, regardless of the paradox of being “half human, half bird, half andalite” (MM3).

Tobias’s opening narration will forever fascinate me.  He’s focused on the moment—find food, get shelter, maybe help this lost kid—and almost absentmindedly informs the reader that he’s a shapeshifting alien fighter who, by the way, is battling life-destroying PTSD.  In this moment he reminds me of Ivan calmly informing the reader that “with enough time, you can get used to almost anything.”  Because the true horror of Tobias flinching away from the kill even as he needs it to survive, being unable to escape the sound of Taylor’s voice in his mind, and apathetically wondering whether he’ll get himself killed if he doesn’t pay more attention to the present is it’s all so ordinary to him.  He still cares, he’s still distressed… but he’s also used to it.  Because with enough time, you can get used to almost anything.

Although every Tobias-narrated book ever written has a lot more introspection than the others (especially Rachel) tend to display, this book clearly shows just how much Tobias does in fact “live too much of life inside [his] head” (#43).  Yeah, he heroically saves a kid from drowning, and yeah, he risks his friends’ freedom to do it because he has to talk to some civilians to make it happen… But that whole incident feels, well, incidental.  Because the whole time that’s happening, Tobias is also giving us insight that we’ve been craving literally since the first book: he’s telling us the story of how he became trapped in morph, from his own point of view.  I continue to be surprised by how often fellow fandalites miss the crucial flashback at the beginning of this book when characterizing Tobias—and on some level I’m not surprised at all, because it really is a diamond in the rough.

It’s impressive as hell that Applegate (or whichever ghost) manages to give us the whole narrative without offering a single simple answer to the question of “Did Tobias become a nothlit on purpose?”  Instead, it seems that the best answer we (or Tobias, for that matter) will ever get is “it depends what you mean by ‘on purpose.’”  The way Tobias tells it, he had a few minutes in there where he could have risked dying—or worse, becoming a controller—for an okay chance at getting out of the yeerk pool cavern in time to demorph, and that he just decided it wasn’t worth his life and/or freedom to try and go back to that life.  But he’s not sure if he made the decision out of cowardice, being unwilling to die at the time.  But he’s not sure if he made the decision out of bravery, being willing to sacrifice anything to continue to fight.  But he’s not even sure himself if he had a choice at all, given the circumstances.  But he’s not sure whether he made the right call, even to this day.

I absolutely love that this explanation is so nebulous.  It feels wildly realistic, because that’s how we as humans tend to explain our own high-stress decision making.  Watch an interview with anyone who ever spontaneously dived into a fire or a river to save a total stranger; when asked “why did you do it?” the individuals tend to shrug and go “I dunno, seemed like the thing to do.”  Tobias probably doesn’t know for himself if, given everything he knows now, he’d go back and make the same call again.  He does know that at the time he had no idea what he was getting himself into, because that kid who chose to become a hawk rather than facing another day at home with his abusive dirtbag uncle had probably never “struck, embedded, and squeezed. Drained life instantly…” just to get breakfast (#43).  Anyway, Tobias might be inclined to agree with Taylor’s low opinion of himself—but he knows who he is.  He has no delusions.

And that self-certainty is enough to carry him through confronting Taylor all over again.  He knows he’s scared.  He knows that she hurt him, and that he’s probably never going to recover from that trauma.  He hates that she has managed to leave a mark on him, but he feels more pity and contempt than fear toward her.  Despite all of that, he’s not desperate.  There’s nothing he needs, and no one he needs to impress.  Therefore, he has power where Taylor has none.

This book also serves to give Tobias a glimpse of how far he could get from humanity using the taxxon as a sort of über-hawk.  Because once again: there’s an alien that needs morphing, and Tobias is the first one to do it.  I love the motif of Tobias being the one to morph andalite, Tobias being the one to acquire a nartec, Tobias being the one to figure out the nesk and mercora, Tobias having the relationship with the hork-bajir… Because Tobias doesn’t quite belong anywhere or with anyone.  He spent his entire childhood moving around the country, and he spends the entire series moving flexibly between identities.  He can get under Taylor’s skin just as much as she’s under his, because they might not understand each other but they still see each other’s weak points.

Anyway, that’s what’s awesome about this book.  The reason I called that opening narration a diamond in the rough before?  Boy howdy is nobody else in this book in character.  We’ve got Jake callously dismissing Tom’s existence when Cassie suggests they at least check whether he’s in the yeerk pool before they blow it up, everyone on the team being not just okay but gung-ho about killing several thousand yeerks and hosts, Rachel trying to save Taylor’s life, Ax being blasé about nearly eating his friends, Jake yelling at Ax for bumping into him, Rachel “more kindly” telling Ax it’s not his fault Jake yelled at him, Cassie rage-quitting the team because she disagrees with their decision rather than trying to persuade people to change their minds, Jake apparently not caring at all that Cassie cares enough to rage-quit, Marco thinking that the idea of killing hosts is not just okay but funny, Rachel being devastated that Cassie injured a few humans when she apparently didn’t even kill any of them… 

Okay, first of all, contrast the Animorphs’ actual responses when they really do blow up the yeerk pool to this nonsense.  In #52 they hesitate to set off the bomb until they have no choice, and afterward even Marco and Ax are devastated beyond words by what they’ve done.  Secondly, Rachel and Jake both spend so much of this book acting so weird that I ascribe to Cates’s Baker Street Irregulars-esque theory that they’re both acting for Taylor’s benefit just like they do in #22 for David’s benefit and this isn’t their real behavior.  Of course, I have a less charitable explanation for why Rachel is repeatedly described as “gentle” and “kind” as she wrings her hands over the horror of it all, while Jake is described as “harsh” and “domineering” while he snaps at anyone who so much as looks at him the wrong way, one that casts a side-eye at the ghostwriter and wonders about gender stereotypes…

But let’s be charitable and just assume that Jake and Rachel are only pretending to be their Supreme Leader and Female Who Knows Her Place selves, respectively, in order to make Taylor think that their team is less cohesive than it is.  Or just stop reading this book after the first 15 pages.  Either way.

[sobsicles]

wait no, okay, i wanna weigh in on this about a few things because i loveeeee this discussion so much. in both that i hate parts of it for making me Feel Things, and also because i just adore getting into the nitty gritty of all deancas insanity.

but anyway.

the thing is, (i think) fundamentally, cas and dean have had an unbalanced, unhealthy relationship since literally the moment they met. like it starts with (in dean's mind), cas trying to take away his agency with a power-play of, 'hey i am a Literal Angel, and heaven has plans for you, and you will follow them Regardless', and (in cas' mind) dean giving push-back—enough to actually fundamentally change him, enough to make him rebel. and then that swiftly turns on its head when there's a role reversal and dean has given up when cas has already rebelled. i mean there were a lot of unhealthy (toxic) moments between them, but the first that i always recall clearly (if we're getting into the nitty and gritty here and not, like, appreciating the sexual undertones etc etc, no judging for the media we like to consume yada yada yada) is that scene where cas tosses dean into the wall and tells him to get his shit together, basically. and it's like, not necessarily just another form of trying to take agency away from him again, because i don't think that's what cas was doing. i think it was a simple, furious acknowledgement of the influence dean has over cas, and also a roundabout way of encouraging dean to, ya know, get his shit together and get with the program like he'd originally planned to do. not give up, but like a violent way of saying so. but, in this, it enforces this—whether it's unconscious and never spoken, or not—awareness in dean that he does have that kind of influence over cas. and so begins this cycle of expectations that neither of them will give any room to breathe or allow to be flexible/malleable.

like, they have these expectations of each other that puts them both in positions to perpetually hurt one another and make mistakes, and it's their own fault. both of them. they've been doing the same shit since the beginning and it somehow just got worse each time. they trade off on doing some of the same horrible shit to each other.

and i do think they're to blame in the exact opposite ways. basically, it does boil down to dean not knowing how to have a legitimately healthy relationship with literally anyone in his life, ever, and then cas learning from dean. one of the first clean-cut lessons dean teaches cas that we see is how to lie and why to lie, and if that's not something to set the tone for their entire relationship through the show, i don't really know what is.

but anyway, the whole thing with jack is, like, about cas' lack of contentment with having an unhealthy relationship with his son, which requires learning how to have a healthy relationship in the first place. cas has been consistently content having the unhealthy relationship with dean that he does. like, he's okay with it. or, he's at least willing to have it and unwilling to change and risk having anything at all (while dean is in the same boat). they have settled into it and found their easy medium, so to speak. but, with jack, cas wants to have a healthy relationship with him, and this calls into question dean's relationship with jack, as well as dean's relationship with cas.

cas does learn (by self-teaching and through trial and error) how to mostly do the healthy route with jack. not necessarily always, as we see him lie to jack (for example, lying about his treatment as a human in reference to dean so as not to, uh, snatch jack's trust in dean from under his feet or have to actively reflect on the ways their relationship has been unhealthy—dean and cas, i mean). but like, he does mostly learn.

that bleeds over into the divorce arc in obvious ways. because cas does, ya know, put his foot down and be like, no i won't accept this, i am not content with this unhealthy dynamic specifically in regards to this. it's inviting an awareness that—to cherry-pick wordage from above—dean repeatedly punishing him because he's reaction emotionally and not logically isn't something he wants/will withstand, especially with jack (a dead jack, at that, so it stings even more) involved.

and that's, like...not really clicking with dean because that's not How They Work. like, they've set the cycle they keep turning; it's literally the only one they have ever known. dean is completely bedded down and not budging on this, but then again, he's never actually had to. he consistently pushes himself to the brink with cas in every single way, like he's putting himself (and cas, by extension) through a pacer-test that they never actually get a higher score on. dean is a man of absolutes, and when those absolutes are shaken up, he completely crumbles like a house of cards. like, he doesn't forgive cas/show or acknowledge exactly how important cas is to him outside of the commander/subordinate dynamic up until he's pushed to that brink (that being: losing cas in any capacity). and this is, ya know, bad for a lot of reasons for both of them at the end of the day, but it's not necessarily done with malicious intent either. it's just that dean can only be a stack of cards, or a crumbled stack of cards, and cas has never (before the divorce arc) demanded dean to be a crumbled stack of cards where he could actually See It.

that's why the purgatory prayer in The Trap is so fascinating to me, not because of dean folding like a lawnchair in the face of being pushed to his brink (that's the norm), but because he was going to fold like a lawnchair AFTER he was pulled back from that brink while cas was Actively Watching Him. like, he had cas right there and wasn't about to lose him, and they hugged, and they seemed mostly fine. and yet, dean was still about to crumble his cards, so to speak. he was going to tell cas either the prayer, a footnotes version, or maybe something similar and more, but he approached the subject with all intentions to do it. which is...not the norm. like, cas was demanding to See It, and dean was going to give it to him, which he never does because that's not How They Work, and then cas stopped him and fell back into their same exact dynamic. (i personally think that it had a lot to do with the time limit they were on, the empty deal, and also the fact that cas, too, contributes to their unhealthy relationship because he, too, does not exactly know how not to).

also, like, weighing in on the whole s6 mess is just...stepping into a mess, for me. because i can't really get over that there was a Literal War, and dean was like, aw cas why'd you lie to me :( but, again, that's not How They Work, and somehow it worked, because they still ended up Like That about each other, which is both insane and ridiculous all the way around.

oh, also!!! dean does actually apologize in s9 for sending cas from the Bunker. (and that doesn't make it okay, and it was ooc, point blank period, but if we're acknowledging like Real Canon Things here, sure let's get into it.) i literally only know this because of fanfic i've written where i had to go back and watch the episode/specific scenes. but anyway.

so like, this is the first time we see a hint of cas being discontent with the unhealthy dynamic. aka jilted lover. he was genuinely upset with dean when he showed up, which he had all rights to be. i think part of dean's whole "why are you being like this to me" thing was because this was the first real hint of the thing, even if cas didn't see it through. (which he really didn't all the way in the divorce arc either, when i think he should've because, ultimately, it would either end with them falling apart or them working towards a healthier dynamic—so close with that scene in The Trap where dean's like "i gotta tell ya something" aka offering to crumble his cards where cas can Watch, no im never letting this go—and the threat of falling apart is what holds them back each time. anyway.) so, dean does actually apologize to cas in Heaven Can't Wait.

Dean: Listen, Cas, ah, back at the Bunker, I uh... Sorry I told you to go. I know it's been hard on you, you know, on your own. Somehow you're adapting. I'm proud of you.

Cas: Thank you, Dean. But there's something Ephraim said. The angels—they need help. Can I really sit this out? Shouldn't I be searching for a way to get them home?

Dean: Me and Sam, we'll take care of the angels. You're human now. It's not your problem anymore.

and like, obviously, there's a lot to this, too. just watching the scene is...so much, honestly, because they're both so steeped into their cycle that they're making the same mistakes with good and bad intentions.

frankly, they're both terrible for each other in the best and worst ways. but like, dean's patterned behavior isn't an excuse not to do better, and cas' lack of boundaries isn't an excuse to perpetuate the problem.

and, of course, a lot of their worst problems is environmental as well. like, i think if they were given time to slow down and actually focus on each other without the world trying to end or something going wrong every five minutes, they might, maybe, just possibly be able to at least realize they could probably be a little healthier.

at the end of the day, though, they still chose each other over and over in the midst of that unhealthy relationship, and they say doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is the definition of insanity, so...

bro why would you tell the guy who you know has threatened to kill your kid multiple times because he believes that kid is dangerous and who you've just started to get to maybe trust and like your kid that your kid might be dangerous