#college burned every single of my neurons

[martinsorbit]

Would Sun Fnaf doing ur homework count as submitting AI generated art

oh, the technicalities of it all.

[flamboyantly-incompetent]

Neuron, Ch.8

Bucky x Named (Mutant) Reader

Warnings: awkwardness, mutual pining, angst

Masterlist

Word count: 3,378

Note: Gifs aren’t mine, they will never be mine, I’m not that talented.  This chapter was rough for a number of reasons, so, sorry that there was such a big gap between the last and this.  Band camp and college started, and I’m so very bad at writing awkward things because I have to take cringe breaks... it’s... yeah.

Also - I changed my url, mostly because my roommate said something really funny about a gif and I just had to.  But it does encompass my personality quite well, so, enjoy!

Bucky didn’t know what to do.  He could think of several things he wanted to do.

Run.  Hide.  Jump out a window.  Stare dramatically into your eyes until he turned to stone.  Kiss you back, at least.

You’d kissed him, desperately, and you hadn’t hesitated a bit.  Your hand in his hair, your fingertips on his skin, how gently your body had collided with his, it had all knocked the wind right out of him.  It always came as a surprise how disarming your presence was, and when you appeared that morning you were the literal light at the end of a very unpleasant tunnel.

But he never imagined that you could have feelings for him.

Yeah, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore.  Yeah, feeling had returned to parts of his mind again.  But he still had those nightmares.  He still had to repress the instinct to kill first, assess later.

And, frankly, the threat alone that his mind could still be tapped terrified him.

He was still scared.  He was still broken.

And how was he supposed to tell you that?

His good friend Shuri loved movies, all kinds.  When she wasn’t inventing the world’s next coolest thing or being generally lovely, she was watching a movie.  While Bucky was adjusting in Wakanda out of the deep-freeze, she had a habit of arriving now and then to declare that it was movie night and drag him up to T’Challa’s theater.  She made him watch everything from Sabrina to Remember the Titans to the entire Lord of the Rings franchise. 

Honestly, Bucky loved movies too.  For a long time, it was much safer for him to feel things fully when he was feeling them vicariously, when they weren’t his and he could leave them on the coffee table when he went back to his goats.

He didn’t fight so tooth-and-nail against emotion, not anymore, but he’d seen enough chick flicks to know that if he tried to explain to you that he was simply too broken, that you were simply too good, you’d end up telling him some bullshit about how he was good too.  Which, frankly, he didn’t have the energy for.

That’s why, instead of following through with any of the things he wanted to, Bucky followed you to Strucker’s office silently.

You didn’t know what to do either.  Were you supposed to pretend that didn’t just happen?  Were you supposed to tell... someone?  As you passed the occasional recently liberated mutant, you pretended the floor was captivatingly interesting, hoping no one would notice the odd energy cast around you.

Bucky’s presence was loud in your brain, and you couldn’t say to save your life what he was thinking.  He had been so close to you, waking every sense to high alert.  It had seemed for a moment that he wasn’t completely disgusted by your sudden show of romantic interest, but his current silence suggested otherwise.

A whir and click were followed by a choked growl.  You shot a glance back to him; he was glaring at his prosthetic and pointedly ignoring you.

He had every right to be mad.  And, if you were honest, your timing was shit.

You just hoped you could go back to being friends after this.

When you arrived in Strucker’s office, Steve waved you over to the desk without looking up, frowning in rapt attention by a stack of files he sifted through.

“What’cha got there, Cap?” you asked, doing your best to sound casual.

Steve said nothing, but handed you the top file.

It was yours.

Heart beating quicker by the second, you scanned over the photos and notes of your life through years of surveillance.

“How long were they watching me?” you asked in an almost-whisper.  Bucky gently pulled the file from your shaking hands. 

“Since you worked with us in 2014.  There’s a computer too, but I wouldn’t know where to begin for a password,” said Steve.

Bucky finally spoke, sending goosebumps along your neck, “Why did they wait so long to make a move?”  He started rooting through the drawers until he found what he was looking for - a deep navy tee shirt that he promptly slid over his head.  Well that solved one of your problems.

Steve handed you another file.  On the top was a page that had a date and a single word.

“’June 14 - Nymph’?” Bucky read over your shoulder.  His breath graced your neck.  Jesus, could he not?  “Does that mean anything to you?”

Still staring at the page, you shook your head.

Tony, Peter following at his heels, pushed Strucker through the door.  “Relax, tin man, I’m going,” she grumbled.  You locked eyes for a moment and she smirked, calling a number of unpleasant emotions from your toes.  It took a great deal of concentration for you not to move between her and Bucky.

Steve ignored her completely and addressed Tony, “Civilians?”

“They’re out.  Vision’s contacting local law enforcement now.”

Steve nodded, “Good, then the clock starts now,” he turned to you to explain, “We don’t technically have jurisdiction... anywhere, so we’ll want to be out of their airspace.”

Strucker spoke up, “Are you going to hand me over to the police, then?”

“No,” Steve said, rigid, “You’re going to unlock this computer.”

She shrugged and wriggled out of Tony’s grasp.  Well that was easy.  She clacked on the keyboard, agitated, when you noticed a glimmer of a smirk on her mouth.  Oh, come on.

“Wait,” you said, grabbing her hand.  She hit the enter key with the other.

A staticky voice sounded from the computer over a low beeping, “Unauthorized parties detected in restricted areas A, B, C, and F.  Self destruct systems armed in 3... 2... 1.”

“Well that’s not good,” you remarked quietly.

Steve looked infinitely exasperated as he barked into his comm, “The building’s about to blow, everybody out.”

You turned to Strucker, who looked altogether too pleased with herself, “How do we disarm the system?”

She scoffed, “So you can compromise our operation?  I thought you were supposed to be a smart freak.”  Tony raised his eyebrows.

Agitated, you knew you shouldn’t respond, but you did anyway, “Smart enough to kick your ass, anyway.”

“Oh, please.  Without your mutation, you’re useless.  Admit it, as much as you want to deny it, you love the power it gives you.”

“Not everyone wants to rule the world.”

“You and I both know that what you want has nothing to do with your destiny.  Tyrant.”

Peter cut in, “Um.  Can you guys do this later?”

You said, “Shush,” at the same time Strucker said, “Shut up.”  You stared at each other, absolutely seething for a moment.  She was daring you to do something, to retaliate.  It was tempting.

A low whine preceded a higher, faster beep.  Shit.

Tony hoisted a protesting Strucker over his shoulder and yelled, “Let’s move!’  Bucky looked around, wheels turning.

He punched through the window with his metal hand, and the rest of the group seemed to get the idea.  Peter flung himself out first, followed by Tony.  

The beeping stopped.  Shit.  A deep boom echoed from further in and shook the floor.

You froze.  This building was exploding.  Exploding.

Bucky grabbed you round the waist and pulled you through the window.  You barely noticed when the shock blast hit you mid-air.  You barely noticed a lick of flame stopped by the suit.  You barely noticed when you both hit the ground.

He coughed, “I’m getting the strangest feeling of deja vu.”

You wanted to laugh.  You did.  Instead, you sat up and buried your face in your hands.

“See?  A useless freak,” Strucker spat.

“Could you get her outta here?” Bucky said, offering you a hand up.

Jaw clenched, you took it and said quietly, “Thank you.”

Steve beckoned with a nod of his head, “To the jet.”

Police lights flashed around, the building burned, people were wrapped in security blankets.  You managed to conjure a smile with the image of Sharkbait explaining where his had been and why he would not be using it.

A man with a microphone flanked by another man with a camera barreled up to you.  He said, “This is Ken Walter with channel seven news, we’re standing with some of America’s ‘Avengers’ at what appears to be a former Hydra base where several prisoners of Hydra have just been released.”  The camera panned along your faces, resting on yours.  Ken Walter continued, “We also appear to be standing with the star of the latest viral video.  I’m sure you all remember the internet sensation dubbed Lady Neuron.”  He put the microphone in front of your face.  When he said nothing, he continued, “What are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, exhausted, “I’m a freak.”

“O-kay,” Steve grumbled, pulling you towards the jet.

You nestled yourself into a corner, as far away from Strucker, and Bucky, as you could get for the ride and turned on your cell phone.

You had some twenty unread messages, all from either your mother or your friend Raina.  You opened your friend’s first.

“Hey, have you seen this?”  “Den?”  “Deeeeeennaaaaaa”. “Dude, are you okay?”  “DENNA.  THE INTERNET HAS GIVEN YOU A NICKNAME.”  “Seriously, I just heard about the break in at Labyrinth.  Call me.”  “I’m getting really worried, Den.”  “Your mom doesn’t know where you are either.”  “Call her.”  “Call SOMEBODY”

You groaned and waited for cell service.

At around 7:30 AM New York time, a new message popped up, “Why are you on the Italian news?  With a bunch of superheroes?  At least I know you’re alive...”

You began to tap out a response, when she called you.  Ah, the joys of iMessage.

“Hey, Ra,” you said softly.

“DENNA MY BEST FRIEND REESE,” she screeched, “What the absolute hell?  What’s going on?  Are you okay?  Who are you with?  Have they been feeding you?  Because you look... rough.”

You laughed in spite of yourself, “Take a breath, man.  I’m okay-is.  This is a hella long story, and I’m about to land in New York and still need to call my mother.  Can I call you back?”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Sure, that’s cool.  Listen, it’s really good to hear from you, I was worried.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ll explain everything as soon as I can.”

You both said your goodbyes, and you geared yourself up for talking to your mom.

At the Avengers tower, with Strucker and General Marino confined to their respective interrogation rooms, Steve pulled you aside.

“We need to talk.”  Natasha gave you a side eye before fleeing the scene.  You turned to face Steve, remembering your indignation from hours prior.  “That was reckless.”

“Yep.”

“Then why did you do it?  You didn’t just put yourself in danger, you put everyone else in danger, too.”

“We were already in danger.  We didn’t have a better plan.  We weren’t going to come up with a better plan and I was not about to waste time trying while maniacs were torturing people.”

“You still went off on your own, and that can get people killed, like yourself.”

“I’m not a soldier, Steve.  I don’t do exploding buildings, I don’t do hiding in safe houses, I don’t do nothing when I can because someone said so and doesn’t bother to explain why.”  When he didn’t respond, you continued, “I’m sorry that I have been putting your friends in danger.  I’m sorry that I am not perfectly level headed.  They’re my friends now, too.  I’m not sorry that I did and will continue to do all I can to keep them out of danger.”

“That was quite the speech.”  You sighed, exasperated.  He clapped you on the shoulder, “We can agree to disagree for now.”

“What will you do now?” Natasha asked you.

You glanced around a bit before replying, “I need to go home; I doubt they’ll come after me after being on the news.  Think you guys can handle it from here?”  You pretended not to notice Bucky’s expression.

Peter grinned at you, “Hell yeah, we’re Earth’s mightiest heroes!”

“Kid, watch it,” Tony scolded, then he turned to you to shake your hand, “You did pretty okay, Champ, for a civilian.”

You laughed, “You know, Mr. Stark, I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

You shook Steve’s hand next, then Wanda’s, and continued down the line.  Bucky was last.  He looked tired.

“Mr. Barnes,” you said as you offered him a hand that he took gently, “take care of yourself.”

“Denna,” he started.

You cut him off, wanting to avoid shedding tears by any means, “Don’t go falling off anymore trains?”  He nodded, a melancholy smile playing across his lips.  

As soon as he released you, you thanked everyone and said goodbye one more time, then got the hell out of there.  You may or may not have cried on the way to the airport.

Before you reached it though, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and composed yourself enough to call Raina.

Her voice was agitated, not in a wholly angry way, just, Ra, as she answered with, “Okay friend, it’s time to talk.  All of the internet knows about your mutation now; are you okay?  Why are you with the Avengers?  You got to meet Falcon and didn’t tell me?!”

Grinning through a creek of tears, the sound of her voice came as a relief, “I’m sorry I’ve been AWOL.  I’m on my way home, think you can meet me at my place in a few hours?”

“Ooh, is it a pizza or fro-yo kind of conversation?”

You sniffed, “Dumplings.  Definitely dumplings.”

“Oh boy, this is serious.”

The flight to Pittsburgh was marginally uneventful, but you did catch more than a few passers-by staring at you.

There were reporters waiting for you at your apartment, forcing you to fight and wiggle your way through them to your door.

Finally making it, you couldn’t contain any longer and shouted, “You all are a burden to the economy!” before slamming the door in their faces.

Ra, who had a key to your apartment and was already sat on your couch eating an egg roll, said, “They’ve been here since noon.  I couldn’t get them to leave.”

You shrugged, kicked off your shoes, threw yourself onto the floor and tore into your share of the dumplings.

“So,” Ra continued, “Tell me about your day.”

You filled her in on everything from the moment Steve popped up at your job to the awkward goodbye you’d just had with a certain cyborg.  At the end of your tale, you shoved your face into a throw pillow, and she started laughing.

“Den.  Oh, Den.  Why- I’m sorry, why?”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

“You met a hot old guy.  You realized you’d caught feelings.  Then you saved him from Nazi’s.  Then you kissed him.  And then...  Nothing?”

“What was I supposed to do?  Hash out the details of my feelings in the middle of enemy territory?  With Steve freaking Rogers, who is mad at me, by the way, literally right there?”

“I mean, no, but you couldn’t have found a better moment?”

You lifted your head just long enough to give her a look then plunked it back down.  “He, I mean.  When was I going to have a better moment?  I just kept thinking about how important he became to me, and how he’d been away for a day and I couldn’t deal, and then how that nightmare was almost over, but that meant,” you waved your hands around, “I’d be leaving.  And, yeah, I’m an idiot. But I didn’t want to leave having not kissed him once.”

When she didn’t respond, you looked up to see her grinning with annoying enthusiasm.  

“What?”

“You like him.”

“I thought we’d established that.”

“No, I mean, you actually like him.  Like more than yeah cool let’s get drinks, or I also love board games let’s play Life.”

“Dude, we played so much Life holed up in that house.”  She hit you with a pillow.  “Don’t get too excited, I probably won’t see him again.  Maybe ever.”

“And this makes you feel...?”

“Sad.  Relieved.  Conflicted.  What else is new?”

She sighed and scooted closer to you on the couch, linking your arms together. “Well, at least you can still play Life with me.” 

Bucky had been in a sour mood since you left, and it had been a few days.  It had been a few days of thinking about everything his mind could get a handle on, and it was getting to be more than he could wrestle with.  At the heart of it all, he missed how easily you addressed heavy things, missed you.  And, sure, he knew it was partially his doing, but it still felt wrong somehow.  It didn’t help that his thoughts kept flickering back to wondering what you were doing.

In his and Steve’s apartment, he starfished on the living room floor and stared up at the popcorn ceiling.  Why would anyone make a ceiling popcorned on purpose?

He didn’t even say goodbye properly.  The whole team was there when you left; there was no good way to say what he’d wanted to.  And with Strucker and General Marino in custody, it was unlikely that he’d see you again.

The front door opened and shut.  Shit, he was supposed to be doing the dishes.

“Have you moved at all since I left?” asked Steve, a vein of humor in his voice as set an arm-load of groceries on the counter.

“I fell asleep,” Bucky lied.  He jumped to his feet with a huff.  “Sorry.”

Steve only nodded.

Bucky avoided his gaze and busied himself with the dishes he was supposed to do two hours ago.  If only you’d left him alone with his feelings, he may have been able to stifle them.  But you just had to go kissing him.  He could still feel you, he could still smell you.  And, while it wasn’t exactly fresh like a spring meadow, because apparently prisoners of Hydra don’t get to brush their teeth before an interrogation, it was wholly you.  And then you stopped.  And he was going to kiss you again; he hadn’t thought about it, he decided.  But then Steve had given him a moment to think about it, and he remembered why love was something he’d probably never be able to have.  After, though, when he didn’t and you had to say goodbye, he could feel how heartbroken your pulse was; he could sense it.  Bucky cursed his super soldier senses, accidentally shattering the plate he scrubbed in his hands.

“Hey!  I liked those,” Steve chided.  He paused at Bucky’s frustrated expression.  “Y’okay?”

Bucky worked his jaw a moment, “Yeah.  I’m good.  Just... I’m good.”

Not believing it for a second, as the locker room had surveillance cameras Steve happened to find at a very opportune moment, Steve played along and then sighed dramatically, “Shoot, Tony gave me the repo thing for Denna’s project,” he fished the thumb drive out of his pocket, “I forgot to give it to her.  Maybe I can mail it, I think I still have her address.”

Bucky snatched it out of his hand with a little more force than necessary, “I-I’ll get it to her.”  Maybe if he had a reason to see you he’d have the nerve to apologize.

“Buck, that’s like a six hour drive.”

“This is classified, you can’t mail it.  It’ll help me clear my head, anyway.  I’ll be back.”  As soon as Bucky made it out the door, Steve let a knowing smirk conquer his face.  Ladies and gentlemen, Bucky Barnes was smitten.

The takeout box of pad Thai you were working on was almost gone when there was a soft knocking on your front door.  You groaned, throwing your head back to look at the microwave clock.  It was nearly eight in the evening; there shouldn’t be any reporters lurking about anymore.

You thanked heaven you were still wearing a bra before squinting through the peephole.

James Buchanan Barnes stood outside your door, looking windswept and a bit guilty.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said to no one in particular.

[luxvitae]

Your Everything | Taehyung

⇢1.8k

⇢His mind, body, and soul. These were the things you loved about Kim Taehyung

happy birthday to the light of my life

⋙Mind

Art usually came easy to you. You never had a problem with creativity before, you always had a lot of it. That is until artist block had hit you like a freight train and you were stuck on your senior project with a paintbrush full of purple ink and a blank canvas. 

“Hey you,” a deep and familiar voice sounded as the door of the studio opened to reveal Kim Taehyung, resident man child who doubles as your best friend and boyfriend. 

“Hey,” you strained, smiling tiredly as you watch him walk over to you and drop a short kiss on top of your head. 

Looking at the blank canvas in front of you, Taehyung makes a face of confused pride. “It’s looking…..good babe. I think you missed a spot though.” 

“Oh shut up,” you groaned, leaning back on your stool so you were leaning on his stomach. “I have lost all motivation. And my creative river has run dry. I’m washed up at 23.” 

Shifting his body around so he stood next to you, he moved your head so it was leaning against his side instead while he rubbed your back and played with your hair in reassuring and and firm touches. 

“What’s the prompt?,” he asked, tilting his head to the side to look down at you. 

“Childlike wonder,” you said, the two words burning holes in your brain from all the times you stared at the stupid slip of paper that was causing your demise. 

Taehyung thought for a little bit before pulling up a stool for himself so he sat next to you, hip to hip. “Don’t you ever wonder why people sleep with their eyes closed? Or ever get fascinated not by the first birthday candle, but the second one? What about how peanut butter and applesauce are liquid forms of something solid? Or why there isn’t a grape flavored gummy bear?,” Taehyung rattled off, looking back at you and smiling his beautiful, full smile. 

“Childlike wonder isn’t childlike at all,” he said slowly, bringing the paintbrush in your hand up with his own, “It’s the unbothered curiosity not tainted by age.” 

“So let go,” he whispered, drawing his hand back from your own, leaving the paintbrush of purple to rest suspended in the air. “You’re not washed up at 23 love, you’ve just forgotten what it’s like being untroubled by the hurdles of adulthood.” 

Pecking your forehead once more, Taehyung left you to simmer in your own thoughts in the empty space of the art studio. It wasn’t until a week later, after your finished your piece, that you realize the way Taehyung thought, the way he navigated through the neurons in the brain to create abstract ideas and impressions, was what inspired your piece to come alive. 

Taehyung and his beautiful mind.

⋙Body 

“T-Tae I d..don’t,” you gasped against his intrusive lips and the harsh grind of his hips against yours.

“Shh baby,” he whispered against your neck, lips traveling further and further down until he was nipping at your collarbones, pulling your shirt down in the slightest, dropping wet kisses all over your chest. “You’re safe with me. I promise.”

Picking you up in his arms, your arms come up to lock around his neck instinctively. Playing with his hair at his nape, you pulled at the strands hotly so his lips detached from your skin and his head lolled backwards.

“I trust you,” you whispered as your foreheads leaned against each other’s before smashing your lips against his again. This time wasn’t like any other kiss; it wasn’t innocent or playful or sweet. It was harsh and needy, but meaningful all the same.

“Should I fuck you against the wall or the sheets?,”his husky voice asked, a sense of teasing in his tone so you just rolled your eyes.

“Why don’t you worry about fucking me in general first,” you played along, voice sultry against his harsh tone as one hand traveled down his chest in a slow, feather like touch.

“Oh baby,” he growled, pushing off the wall and navigating his way around the apartment without taking his eyes off of you, “I don’t need to worry about that.”

Once he reached the bedroom, your mind went blank as he softly laid you on the sheets, a totally different demeanor from what he showed you in the living room. Supporting his weight on his hands with his legs between yours, the kisses turned slow and steady, hands exploring the expanse of your still clothed body. As he started to roll your shirt up to reveal your stomach, you expertly flipped the two of you over before straddling his hips.

“Y/n-”

“Shh baby,” you quoted from him, “Let me take care of you first.”

With that, you shimmy your way down, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the new skin being exposed after each button. Taehyung was always rushing to please you first, but not today.

“I love you,” you whispered into his ear before kissing down his neck to his stomach.

“I love your stomach that clenches in laughter when I tell a joke that no one else thought was funny but you,” you said, kissing around his belly before going back up to his arms. As you journeyed around his body, Taehyung’s eyes never left your face, eyes getting darker and darker.

“I love your strong arms that hold me in times of distress and in times of joy, the arms that never let me go even if I say I want you to. I love your hands that hold mine, guiding me in all the right directions with you,” you said, slipping his fingers into your mouth so you could suck on them causing Taehyung to groan under you.

Popping them out, you ventured down, undoing his belt buckle and his pants for you to be face to face with his growing bulge. You begin to rub at it, causing friction from the scratchy fabric of his boxers, feeling his dick harden under your touch with every second going by.

“I love your legs that support you because they allow you to support me as well,” you continued even past his whining and moaning, putting his hands over yours to make sure you didn’t stop.

“I love you feet that walk next to mine,” you breathe out before Taehyung is flipping the both of you again, and this time you didn’t mind. He hurriedly gets rid of your shirt and shorts along with his jeans and underwear. “Because we’re in this together.”

“I love your back,” you gasp as he goes down on you, licking you through your underwear, causing your hands to fly to his hair, pushing and pulling at the strands. “I l-love your back because it has never t-turned, oh god, it’s never turned on me.”

Before you knew it, all three of his fingers that you sucked on were pushing into you, making your head fall back in ecstasy, moaning out in pleasure. But you weren’t done yet.

“I-I love your chest,” you managed to say as Taehyung came back up to drop a kiss to your lips.

“What about it baby?,” he asked, lining up his cock with your entrance before pushing in, slowly, then all at once.

“Oh god Taehyung,” you moaned out, arching your back from how good the stretch felt and how well he filled you up.

“What about my chest baby?,” he prodded at you, allowing for you to get a grip on your thoughts until he started to shallowly pulse against you.

“I love your chest,” you breathed, hands going against the muscle to feel his rapid pulse against your fingertips, “Because it holds your heart. And that heart allowed you to love me.”

⋙Soul

You start to think you saw it at the puppy shelter you and Taehyung volunteered at last month. Then, again, you think you saw it in the way he looked at the fans during the fan signs, cheering them on and giving them words of advice. But you definitely saw it when you visited his hometown with him.

“Eonjin! Jeonggyu!,” he screamed in excitement as he walked through the doors to see his little siblings already waiting there for him.

The two of them tackled him to the ground, you found a smile already on your lips from the laughter ripping through the small but cozy home, brightening the already lit walls. You watched as your boyfriend ruffled their hair and picked both of them up, carrying them into the kitchen where his mom and dad were still in the process of cooking.

“Taehyung!,” his mom said in surprise, dropping the plate she was holding up and wiping her hands on her apron to gather her son in her arms for the first time in a while.

“Hey mom,” he smiled, eyes watering just a little bit, but not enough to fall. After greeting everyone including his dad and little cousins, he grabs your hand and pulls you forward, introducing you and showing you off to everyone that gathered to see him come home.

“Uncle Tae, did you bring us anything like last time?,” a little girl that you remember as Taehyung’s niece asks, cheeks ablaze from how candid she realized her question was out loud.

“As a matter of fact,” he said thoughtfully before picking up the little girl and swinging her around, her high pitched laughter bouncing off the walls, “I did.”

Asking you to come with him, you follow him to the car trunk to reveal two big bags full of little gifts and trinkets. Leave it to Kim Taehyung to spend his money on everyone else.

“Love, aren’t you tired?,” you asked softly, taking on bag into your arms. You were convinced your boyfriend was an angel as he got off a 15 hour flight from Chicago to Korea, went straight to his dorm to pack, drove to pick you up, then embarked on a two hour drive to Daegu (which he refused to let you behind the wheel), then entertained his siblings, helped his parents in the kitchen, and still had enough energy to entertain everyone else.

“Yeah. Exhausted actually,” he laughed, “But these people, my family, I haven’t seen them in what’s felt like forever. I don’t wanna miss a single second of my time with them.”

You first witnessed it when the two of you went to an outreach program in June, the way his eyes would soften around the edges and his smiles came more naturally. You thought you were sure when he attended his first actual college lecture after all those years of online schooling, the excited demeanor to learn. But you weren’t sure. It was only until this moment, right now, as he set down the bags in the middle of the room and cheered along with the little kids while acting like Santa and calling out their names to give them their gifts, were you sure that you’ve seen it. Understood it, even.

Kim Taehyung and his beautiful soul.

In light of my love’s birthday, I did a thing :) 

-M♡

[allen-messenger]

The End of the World (707 x Reader)

Trigger warnings: torture, death.

If you intend to read the beginning of this one-shot, don’t worry, the triggering part is under the cut.

Genre(s): Angst, Tragedy

Summary: Seven has been spending most of his time making sure MC is safe, and the agency’s boss is disatistied.

  ’’Make sure that my next target won’t be you.’’

  Vanderwood had warned Seven over and over. He really did. How many times did he advise caution to the hacker, urging him to care about his personal safety? How many times did he compel his colleague to let go of his feelings? How often did he reminded Seven that their organization could remove the two of them from the face of the Earth at the slightest mistake? So often he couldn’t count his admonitions anymore, actually. However, the redhead had always brushed aside his numerous lectures.

  Of course, Luciel was incredibly talented. As a matter of fact, only him could undertake some of the organization’s missions. Even among secret agents, Seven’s skills were highly praised. Because of that, the boss had been rather lenient with him. Truthfully, if it hadn’t been for his abilities, the hacker would have been disposed of a very, very long time ago. Nonetheless, it didn’t mean this status quo would remain forever. And today, Luciel would finally learn his lesson – the hard way.

  Although he knew this day would eventually come, Vanderwood had strived to delay the inevitable. He had been in charge of Seven for several years now and despite his threats, the secret agent had developed a soft spot for his colleague. For the longest time, he lied to the boss in an attempt to cover the hacker’s blunders. Sometimes, he would even reluctantly put in a good word for him. For god’s sake, he even regularly cleaned Luciel’s house so the latter could focus on the damn work. Even though Vanderwood had turned a blind eye on Seven’s antics, keeping the RFA’s existence a secret from the higher-ups, he couldn’t afford to do it anymore. This time, his life was on the line, and it was far more precious than Seven’s affection.

  Despite his old age, the boss was unexpectedly sharp. The secret agent had no idea how his superior had learnt of her existence, but he knew a woman was the source of Seven’s distraction.

 “Bring her to me. Don’t fail. You, of all people, should know what would happen if you were to fail, don’t you?”

  Of course he knew. Disposing of failures was part of his job as a handler, after all. The agent wondered if his colleague would be able to withstand his sanction. In all honesty, the punishment that awaited Seven was arguably worse than death. Vanderwood remembered the face of the agency’s previous victims, drowned in agony, while they watched their lovers be swept away. Yes, dying probably was a better option. Unfortunately for him, the hacker’s talent was irreplaceable. Because of that, the man would not be the one to suffer the consequences of his mistakes.

  In the end, the mission had been amazingly dull. It didn’t involve any risk whatsoever. The target was just a pitiful, naïve college girl. She didn’t even hesitate a second before opening the door when he told her Seven had sent him to check on her. Not like he expected anything from a woman who had unwillingly locked herself in a trapped apartment, anyways. Still, deep in his heart, a sparkle of pity was flickering.

  30cl of chloroform and an old cloth. To the agency, it was all her life was worth. His eyes wandered and laid on her face. She was sleeping peacefully, unaware that her fate was sealed. Anyone could realize in one glance that she didn’t belong to neither his and Seven’s world. It was painfully obvious that the girl was just an average person whose life could be summed up in a couple of words: sleep, work, eat, love and friends. And yet, she would die because she unintentionally crossed the boundary between their realms. The handler weakly tried to dismiss those thoughts, but in truth, those jobs always left a bitter taste in his mouth he could never get rid of.

  After a few hours, Vanderwood stuffed the drugged woman in a suitcase and entered the church. At first, the building seemed to be an ordinary sanctuary where believers gathered to pray together. However, some devotees could make a “generous donation” and “confess their fears” to the priests. If they had been benevolent enough, their prayers would be heard by God, and their dreads would miraculously disappear.

  The agent made his way to the highest floor. After respectfully announcing himself, he was led to the archbishop’s office. An old man was waiting for him. Vanderwood reckoned his host must have been around 65 years old. Despite his age, the boss was a force to be reckoned with. Time and betrayals had never been enough to graze his authority, until now, at least.

  For the first time, the organization’s very existence was threatened. Although the old fox’s power was significant, the agency’s client’s dominance was said to be absolute in the underworld. Rumor has it that it wouldn’t take more than a day for the customer to successfully destroy the institution. The agent had also heard that the said patron had no enemies anymore, as they had all been secretly removed. And unfortunately for the boss, that client had been dissatisfied by Seven’s delay in delivery. In view of the recent events, there was no way the higher-ups would tolerate the hacker’s behavior any further, no matter how talented he was.

  “So that’s her… Agent Vanderwood. You may take your leave.”

“Thank you, sir.”

  This kind of respect didn’t suit him, but he had no choice. His life was precious. If he had to fake reverence to preserve it, he would do it without a thought. If he had to sacrifice an innocent passerby to protect it, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it either.

  The handler internally said a prayer for the woman. He didn’t believe in any god, but he knew that she would need a miracle to leave this building unscathed.

  One hour later, a redhead stormed in the archbishop’s office.

 “Boss! Did you do anything to her?!” He growled.

 The old man peeked at his watch with a deadpan expression.

“As expected, you analyzed the situation swiftly. It is a shame, truly, that you do not work as fast, Agent 707.”

  Although the hacker tried to hide it, he was terrified. No matter how stupid he seemed in the chatroom, he was wise enough perceive what was going to happen. He had to get her out of here, no matter how. If he couldn’t, she would die without fail. He had to find something... Think Seven, hurry, think of something, anything. Use every single cell your brain, even if you have to burn them. You can’t fail. In the end, he knew that escaping the church unharmed would be impossible. The building was crowded by numerous agents after all – some far more experienced than him. The only option was negotiation, but was there really a way he could convince the boss to let MC go?

  “No, there is none. Don’t even think about it.” The voice was stern. The old fox’s tone didn’t leave any room for compromise. Argh, how sharp was this man? His acute gaze had always looked like it could pierce through one’s lies, but Seven had never expected the boss to literally read his mind. Keep thinking, Saeyoung, there must be a way. Every puzzle has a solution, right? There must be something I can do. There has to be. Truthfully, he knew that negotiating would be impossible. Although he was a tremendous asset to the agency, he was still a pawn, and threatening the King himself would be useless. However, he didn’t want to give up. He was the one who put a random civilian in this mess, so he had to save her, even if it meant he would have to become a sacrifice.

  “Wait, boss… I admit I haven’t been the most diligent agent lately, but… I’ll work, I promise, you don’t need to take a hostage to intimidate me.” The hacker’s arguments were far from persuasive, but his head was frozen stiff. All his leftover neurons were already dedicated to creating coherent sentences.

“It seems you do not understand. This isn’t an incentive, but a sanction. When you entered the agency, I believed your talent would make up for your psychological weakness. It appears I was wrong, and it is time for me to rectify this mistake. Your mental training is long overdue.”

“Wait!” The young agent pleaded in an attempt to gain time. However, seconds passed while Seven was still paralyzed by fear. “Don’t hurt her, please! It’s my fault, I’m the one who messed up. Don’t touch her… Please.”

“Weren’t you told? You should never get involved with others. I am sure you realized it by now, but personal relationships will be the end of you. You have failed as an agent, 707.”

“I…” Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth anymore. His sight was blurry. Dazed, he felt like the world was slowly crumbling underneath him. In an ultimate struggle, the hacker pleaded the man. “Don’t… Boss, don’t hurt her, I should be the one to go through – that -, please! I’ll work like a slave for the rest of my life, so… So…”

“Do you still not understand? Agent Seven, this is your punishment.”

  The hacker was dragged into an empty room, and solidly tied up to a chair. In front of him, a glass let him view his significant other. Just like him, she was trying to break free from her restraints, in vain. Her irises were filled with a unique kind of terror, with the dread of someone who was facing death itself. Seven thrashed around violently, yelling whatever sentences he could think of in this situation. He screamed her name, once, twice, ten times, but his pleas never reached her ears. He tried to attain the glass separating them, but it was pointless. His chair wouldn’t budge, no matter how much he flailed about.

 “Seven… You said there was a chance you would come if I were to call your name while looking at the sky, but… What should I do? I can’t see it… from here.”

The redhead’s eyes raised, before laying at the speakers transmitting sound from her room to his. That damn deviant planned punishments so well. Seven had to admit it, now. There was no way out for any of them. Both him and his beloved would break in this church. The hacker would see and hear his dearest, but she would die all alone, drowned in the agony he inflicted upon her.

  The metal door opened, and a middle-aged man entered. Much to his dismay, Seven realized he had never seen that person. There was no telling how much of a monster the torturer would be. Please don’t be a monster, at least that, please, please--.  Repeating this single sentence like a mantra, the hacker stared at the agent, powerless.

  “Yo, little girl. Before you start crying, let me tell you that I don’t enjoy doing that to innocent civilians either. It can’t be helped, though, that’s my job – and I will be in the same situation as you if I don’t do it right. So instead of blaming me, curse your poor excuse of a boyfriend.” The newcomer said, with a matter-of-fact tone, before sighing. He acted like an office worker whose higher-ups demanded they work overtime. He seemed utterly disinterested in his prisoner’s destiny: she was just the file he had to submit to his chief tomorrow morning, no more, no less. On one hand, it meant that the torturer would do his job thoroughly. On the other hand, he appeared to not enjoy making his victims feel unnecessary pain.

 “… I won’t blame him. Seven… Seven didn’t want that either.”

“Whatever suits your boat. Anyways, the boss ordered me to break you. Here is how things are gonna go: I’ll hurt you real bad, and when you are on the brink of death, I’ll give you some privacy for a few minutes. Lucky for you, it turns out I’m pretty experienced, so your cuts will be clean. If you want a piece of advice, just throw away your pride and yell to your heart content. Say whatever makes you feel better, really. The dead don’t need ego.”

“… Okay.” MC answered, hesitantly.

  Although a little voice in Seven’s head had been whispering him that MC would die here because of him, it was only after the torturer’s speech that he fully realized the seriousness of the situation. It wasn’t just an eerie nightmare. It was reality, in its purest form.

  “I’ll start with your fingers. Then, I’ll go for your arms, legs, jaw, and finally, for the kill. Good luck, little girl.”

  Without delay, the first bone snapped. The next digits followed their peer soon enough. Every scream of hers pierced through Saeyoung’s heart likes rusty knives. Whenever she cried, the blades twisted in the wound. The hacker thrashed around like there would be no tomorrow – and maybe there actually wouldn’t be any -, but still, the chair wouldn’t move an inch. His own cries confused with her anguished voice while his restraints lacerated his skin.

  Between her sobs, MC whimpered his name. She was pleading for help, and yet, he was sitting there, paralyzed. Useless, useless, useless, you’re so… useless. His princess’s bones cracked, one after another, and the only thing he could do was observe her with watery eyes. He wanted to tell her he was there, right next to her, to alleviate her worries, but even that was impossible. Remembering how he ever dared to call himself a defender of justice made him sick. Wasn’t it hilarious? He pretended he could protect world peace, and yet, while in truth, he had been the one bringing misfortune to his loved ones. Be it Saeran or MC, all his precious ones had suffered because of his arrogance.

  MC… The cheerful smile that had once made him fall for her was gone. The sparkle that glimmered in her mischievous irisis had long disappeared. They had been replaced by empty eyes, clouded by tears. Seven wanted to avert his gaze – but he couldn’t. He did not deserve to. It was true that he had sinned, and he couldn’t deny that he had to atone for his crimes. MC’s limbs were distorted because of him, because he had once yearned for a glimpse of affection. His wretched self had no right to ache for intimacy. He had been aware of it all long, and yet… He hadn’t been able to escape her warmth.

  “I have to make you look a bit gory, but it’s almost over, little girl.” The torturer stated with the same indifferent tone. After lending a few blows on MC’s face, the agent rolled up one of his sleeves, revealing a sharp dagger. With skill, he carved a few wounds on the prisoner’s body.

  “Yep, looks good enough. I’ll only ask you once, so think carefully: do you wanna die now, or later? I don’t recommend stalling for time – your boyfriend won’t come.”

“N—Now… Plea… se.” The girl’s answer was immediate. She had completely given up on hope, and rightly so. His powerless self would never be able to protect her. It was the cold, hard truth. Death itself would offer her more comfort than he could.

“Alright.”

  Without any hesitation, the man planted his knife in her body. He pulled the blade out, letting blood promptly flow all over the prisoner’s clothes.

“I’ll leave you alone, now. You will die in a few minutes of blood loss, so… Spend your time wisely.” Having said that, the agent left, quietly closing the door.

  A few seconds passed before MC’s voice gently put an end to the harrowing silence.

  “Se… ven. I don… I don’t know… if you’ll ever hear this but… To… To me… You were… a real defender… of justice.”

  Many sobs interrupted her sentences. In truth, the simple act of talking was probably excruciating. However, the woman gathered all her remaining strength to utter her ultimate words. On the other side of the wall, the hacker struggled to hold back his cries. Although he didn’t want to admit it, Seven knew it would be his last chance to ever hear his lover’s voice. His mind was full of screams, but he refused to convert them into sounds. No matter how painful it was, he had to focus on her message.

  “You must… become happy… Don’t… bla… blame yourself, be… because… even now… I thi—th…ink that meeting you was a… blessing. Sae— I… I… ve...”

  The final syllables were inaudible, but it was alright, he didn’t need to hear them to understand.

  “I love you too, MC… So much I could die.”

  He stared at her with eyes filled of sorrow, despair, and tenderness. He didn’t know how long he spent motionless, simply peering at the corpse who was once his significant other. The merry person who had once held his hand, guiding him through new lands, was now sitting on front of him, lifeless. When she was next to him, the city suddenly overflew with colors. When he felt her warmth, the stars which were faintly glowing unexpectedly started shining like jewels. She had showed him a whole new world, a realm where he could give and receive affection. It was her who had slowly, but surely illuminated his dark locker and who had allowed him to see how far the azure sky unfolded itself. Thanks to her, he had discovered how the summer breeze could caress his cheeks and how soft the winter snow felt.

  However, the universe they once shared had collapsed before him. Powerless, Seven could only watch while his world turned into cosmic dust. Even though he didn’t deserve to love his princess, he prayed. He prayed that the heavens would allow him to fulfill his promise. MC and he would never be able to be together on Earth, but still, Saeyoung clinged to the hope that one day, he would be able to marry his lovely 606 in the space station.

A masterlist can be found here.

[dippedanddripped]

When it comes to speaking on music and the brain, Ewan McNay speaks in long, fast, almost breathless paragraphs replete with neuroscientific terminology.

But if you ask him directly what he'll be saying in an upcoming talk at the Guilderland Public Library, his message boils down to a single, simple imperative.

"What I'm going to tell everybody," says the UAlbany professor and authority on brain function, "is they should go play music."

McNay was invited to speak by the organizers of the Bach Cello Suites Workshop, where he'll be addressing participants of the weeklong summer immersion at The College of Saint Rose. The subject then will be the effects of Bach on the brain. The subject this time is the effects of music generally. And there are many.

Before unpacking them, I should note what I've admitted here before, and that's my parallel life as a humble but happy fiddler. I am by no stretch a virtuoso. I hit lots of wrong notes. But what McNay plans to tell his listeners on Wednesday is more or less what I've been saying for decades to anyone who'll listen: Go. Play. Music.

Doesn't matter what instrument you play, which genres you dabble in, how skilled or unskilled you are — it's among the most rewarding, sanity-inducing activities you could possibly engage in. And, it turns out, it's good for your brain.

First, memory.

"For folks who practice intensely, either professionals or dedicated amateurs, there's an increase in their working memory — not just with regards to music, but across domains," McNay says. If someone rattles off a series of digits, a musician will remember them better than a non-musician. "The connectivity between brain regions is enhanced. There are a couple of ways you see that. It's most dramatic when you put someone in a scanner."

But before you slide them in, consider this: "All the methods that we use in humans for looking at functional brain activity are basically measures of metabolism" — that is, they determine which parts of the brain are using more glucose in any given moment. If you scan a musician's brain while they're listening to music — or, even better, playing it — you'll see a deeper activation in more areas of the brain.

How many parts? "The answer is lots," McNay says. With lots of cross-pollination: Simply reading a piece of sheet music instantly activates the auditory cortex inside the temporal lobe. "Even if you're not conscious of hearing it," he says, "your brain is hearing it. That is not true for non-musicians."

Asked whether he plays an instrument himself, McNay quips: "You could ask my teacher." But yes. The piano. "I wouldn't describe it as playing. I would say I attempt to play the piano." Lately, he says, "I'm playing some Chopin, I'm playing some Billy Joel, I'm playing a Beatles duet with my son."

Playing music with others is, he confirms, a form of communication. Here he mentions mirror neurons, the brain cells that fire when you're taking an action or observing someone else taking an equivalent action — whether it's playing the cello or shooting hoops. In musicians, music activates the brain's motor programs: Just as writing something out is more effective than simply reading it, playing music puts a big dent on your brain.

In general, musicians process languages faster. It's not that they can necessarily learn them faster; but for the tongues in which they're already conversant, they're more adept at comprehension. They're better at pattern recognition, too. Like a chess master faced with an unfamiliar board, they can look at a new piece of music and grasp it more quickly — assuming it all makes melodic sense. If it doesn't, if it's just random notational gobbledygook, forget it.

And another thing. A weird thing.

"For a musician that is playing an instrument," McNay says, "that instrument – in a fairly literal sense — becomes part of themselves." The phenomenon was demonstrated in the "rubber hand" experiment of the early 2000s, when subjects began to feel ownership of artificial arms after scientists stroked them in the same direction, at the same time, as their actual body parts.

It all happens in the right parietal cortex. "That's where we integrate all the different sensory streams" — including sight, sound and a sense of our bodies in space. And that's where self-image is constructed.

For anyone who's played music with intensity and dedication, the instrument is built into the self: Something touching the cello is perceived as something touching the cellist. The same is true of competitive fencers — "when they pick up a sword," McNay says, "that sword becomes part of their body."

More Information

If you go

"Music and the Mind: The lifelong benefits of music for the brain," with Ewan McNay

Where: Guilderland Public Library at 2228 Western Ave.

When: 7 p.m. Wednesday

Admission: Free

Info: bachchellosuitesworkshop.com

Contact Amy Biancolli at 518-454-5439 or abiancolli@timesunion.com or visit the arts blog at http://blog.timesunion.com/localarts

As he explains all of this, I flash back to my mother. A concert violinist, she always spoke of her instrument as her other voice — as a natural, expressive extension of herself. As far as her brain was concerned, it was. I am not the musician my mother was, so I can't say the same of her violin in my hands. I don't practice nearly as much. I also have minimal grounding in music theory, having absorbed most of its complexities subconsciously.

But my ear knows what's going on. My left hand knows what's going on. They speak to each other, bypassing my utterly clueless conscious brain. When I solo on a jazz tune, I can't tell you what I'm doing, but I do it.

When I describe this to McNay, he assures me I'm not a crackpot. "That's absolutely true." It is? "Oh, it's totally true. It's way true. You can actually illustrate this really easily."

Basically, all of us have a limited capacity for conscious attention. Stuff gets relegated to the unconscious, but that doesn't mean it doesn't register at all. "Your brain is aware on an unconscious level," McNay says. And muscle memory has a mind of its own. Think of it this way: If you consciously tried to flex every muscle involved in walking, you'd fall over. "You trust that your muscles know what to do."

That said, you do need to stay focused while making music — that's the beauty of it. No multitasking allowed. "This, again, is a question of attention. You could play music without paying attention — you could suck, but you could do it. Likewise, you could ski without paying attention, but you'd crash."

If I love playing music with friends because it empties my mind of its everyday aggravations, I'm not alone. "You haven't got the brain capacity to think about your mother-in-law or your mortgage or the leak in the roof," he says. So I'm fiddling while Rome burns. "Basically, yes."

One thing playing music won't do for you: "It doesn't stop you from getting fat," McNay says. "You've got to go to the gym as well." But that's good for the brain, too.

In short: Playing music "has a bunch of benefits. It decreases your reaction time. ... It increases your memory ability in regards to aging, in many ways. It probably does improve your ability to communicate — if only because you recognize and process speech faster. And it's fun," McNay says. "It's fun."

[thehighroaaad]

Einstein

the reason im sad is not because i didnt get into college or because my boyfriend broke up with me its because the intelligent mind is by far the most fragile and beyond any state of understanding the pain you feel inside you feels 20 times worse inside of me because with every tear that streams down your face i feel endless waterfalls and ive been looking for a while but i cant find an algebraic equation that could explain the look in your eyes when you walked away i just wish you could tell the truth for long enough to untangle my brain i dont know where all this started but i know itll never end because i understand every single detail every neuron you destroy every feeling you were supposed to give me. i know you were there all along but something tells me that you wont comprehend it either and maybe no one else ever even could. but amongst all the damaged brain cells you were there stitching me up filling my brain with words i'd never heard before and whether or not you want me i'm here ill tell you all my stories ive seen dirt cheap scum and golden pearl necklace rich but ive never seen einstein smile and ive never felt more alone knowing every day im thinking thoughts that no one will ever understand and all this pain inside me will burn forever unknown but maybe its wasn't everyone else that i wanted to understand maybe i just couldn't accept it wasn't you. ------------------------------------------ ive looked into your eyes a thousand times and i still dont want you until i dont have you anymore. i tried to let you go because if you loved me you'd come back but you disappeared with the wind and the cigarette smoke i just wish you took all the memories too. it reminds me of how you know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it and my brains always in the position where i can't even take a second to think about saying no ive heard every word you've said and i still dont want you until i'm 12 shots deep maybe its the burning feeling in my throat or the way you make me feel but somehow it numbs all the cuts that you've made i didnt remember them even being there and my mind just cant handle this the drugs the stress the pain because every time i end up here and i never remember how and it makes me hate that im so much better than this and you can get by thinking i'm here when you need me. i've given you 100s of dollars in cigarettes ans i still dont want you until you can recognize my worth you didn't even think about thanking me but ive been here all along as you act like youre innocent while breaking all my fucking bones and i forgot that you're the one who caused all the pain in the first place i thought i was winning it all and then i realized it was just a game i've tried everything but i just can't want you again i wont let myself take the fall theres no reason why i have to feel like this. i got high off your eyes and even if you really did get high off mine im the only one who has the memories anymore.

[pravasiga]

June 15, 2017 - Nelipot: Bare(foot) with Me

Nelipot: (n.) One who walks barefoot. Origin: Greek.

I'm rounding off the end of my two weeks at SVYM, which means that I'm already one-fourth of my way through my time in India. This fact absolutely blows my mind, but I shouldn't be that surprised. It's been an absolute whirlwind of classes, field visits, cultural exhibitions, and sight-seeing excursions - an exhaustingly wonderful immersion to so many important sites and institutions in Mysore. There's so much that I could (and want to) write about, but I've found that so much of my time here in India has been an experience and stimulation of all the senses.

I chose 'nelipot' for this post because as we speak, my feet are still sore and dusty from today's day-long trip out to two temples. Going barefoot outdoors is not something that I'm accustomed to, and certainly not something I ever expected to be writing about (and if we have some space to be honest, toes kind of freak me out like your feet, at some point, just divide into 5 little wiggling stubs of muscle and bone, like what?). But today, as I climbed mountains and steps and quietly wandered around beautiful sanctuaries, I realized that so much of my experience lay rooted in more than just what I could capture for you with pictures. I could never capture for you, the humbling awe I experienced, standing on the smooth and worn steps of the Chennakeshava Temple as the sky faded down from its brilliant blues to a sleepier grey. In story-telling like this, I rarely discuss the sensation of touch. We are told not to touch masterpieces at art museums and we are made to stay distances away from exhibits, and we obey those rules. Our bodies are designed to eventually drown out certain senses, after all, to prevent us from having sensory overload, especially when it comes to our touch receptors. We neglect sensations of our clothing against our skin or hair against our neck or our feet in our shoes. I have told stories through my eyes, my ears, my hands, my lips, and my nose - but never my feet, which have taken me across the globe and will continue to carry me to stories and experiences that I haven't lived yet.

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I love neurobiology and the brain and all of its curious abilities. I delight in learning about sensory systems and pathways that are constantly shifting, shaping, formulating all the bits and pieces of who we are, what we do, and why we do it. I am so incredibly lucky to have been born with all my senses (except if you know me, I seem to be lacking common sense) to embellish my lifetime and memories with an enormous range of details that I can try to communicate but never fully replicate. But since my favorite thing to write are descriptions, you'll get all my rambling thoughts anyways. The human body is an extraordinary thing, formed to express and feel and move. In my own, very human, 20-year old tired but eager college student humanoid form, I have come upon experiences that belong solely to this conglomeration of cells and systems and neurons. I am absolutely in love with the fleeting memories that belong to no one else.

My eyes have seen the sunrise through the curtains of my hostel room and marveled at how the entire world arises each day from rose pink and lush gold. I have stared up at the sight of incredible temples that arch into the infinite sky, down busy alleyways with uneven stone pavings and trinket vendors with cluttered store fronts or stands, and at throngs of people, dressed in vibrant patterns and colors that flash by, going about their lives. Every day, the aromas of food in the SVYM canteen are delicious and sometimes waft up two flights of stairs right to my door step, beckoning to get my lazy butt out of bed. I have tasted sauces and gravies so full of rich spices that I sometimes swear my ribcage will never be empty of its warmth. I have also tasted the utter uselessness of trying to quench the raging burn of biting down on the wrong thing and having your entire throat burst into flames, but that's a whole different kind of tasting. That, my friends, is the taste of defeat. As we drive on the roads, I smell dust, I smell grass, I smell the occasional mound of feces from unidentified origins. I smell and expand my lungs with sweet and crisp petrichor whenever people speak of the incoming monsoon rains that have peppered us with rain. I hear incessant car and rickshaw horns (some of which sound more like glorified Whoopee cushions), and the gritty rumbling of motorcycles weaving in and out of traffic. From the mouths of people I pass, I hear the rich, rolling tones of Kannada which flow from capable tongues like a stream down a babbling brook. As someone who's been struggling to learn Kannada for the last two weeks, I can attest to how difficult it's been to shape my mouth, my tongue, my lips around the rhythmic syllables. Everything here, has a heartbeat.

When we were told two weeks ago that we would at one point, be climbing almost 700 steps upon a mountain to the Gommateshwara Statue, which resides in Shravanabelagola, a Jain temple, completely barefoot, I balked at the idea. I remind you, that I am that Cornell student who plans their entire day around whether or not they have to ascend the slope and I kid you not, I have been convinced plenty of times to stay in bed instead.

Removing shoes before entering is not entirely foreign or a new experience to me - I do, after all, come from a Chinese-American household where my parents have amassed slippers of all kinds from various sources for all of our house guests to wear after they shed their shoes by the door. Today wouldn't have even been our first time going barefoot around a site. After all, I had already felt the smooth, imported tiles at Mysore Palace and had quietly padded around the Namdroling Monastery at Bylakuppe to soften the sound of my footfalls from echoing around the enormous chamber. But outside? On a mountain? Going up?

The stairs had been carved out of the mountain and had been worn through time. The path curved up along the of the domed hill and glistened in the morning sun. The steps were not at all even - some sloped, some were clunky, some were so thin that they barely looked like a step up. But like all things, it was useless to stay in one place and worry about the journey forever. Everything must start, and it always starts with a single step.

I pushed myself through more than five-hundred and fifty steps, my feet slapping against the hill in broken staccato. Step, step, turn around and look back at the view, step, stop to force air back into my lungs and adjust my long pants that had so much extra fabric that I practically could be my own hot air balloon, step, step, step. Because we were ascending early in the day, the stones were still relatively cool. I focused on the feeling of the soles of my feet making contact with the next step and the effort it took from my legs to push my body forward. The balls of my feet protested, still sensitive from all the pressure I was exerting directly on it, on unfamiliar territory. And every time my feet pressed into another step and a faint slapping echo reverberated into my ears, I began to marvel and wonder at how, more than a thousand years ago, people had climbed up this hill, not as a tourist, but as the artisans and workers who put an enormous amount of labor into building one of the sacred Jain pilgrimage sites. I walked through fine, silty dirt and courser, grainier sand. I ran my foot along the smooth stone thresholds of the temple where in a small, dark chamber, I received a blessing from an amused Jain clergyman who explained how to perform the ritual. Circling the flame with my palm, a burst of warmth enveloped my hand as I focused on the sole source of light at the altar. I remember the cool, wet sensation of applying a sandalwood paste tikka to my forehead (and desperately trying to center it correctly).

We climbed all the way up to the very top, all the way to see one of the largest, free-standing monolithic statues in the world, at a site sacred to millions of people. Down at the base, we had passed cloth, curved chairs, meant to be born on the shoulders of four people, and provided for those who were too sick, too old, or were otherwise unable to ascend the hill on their own. At the top, I understood why many people, regardless of faith, would make the climb up. The entire temple is stunning in its own right, as are the many smaller statues, about two dozen in total, that ring the enormous Gommateshwara statue. Here, I received a second blessing and spent the rest of the time marveling at the towering figure above me. The statue, dedicated to the Jain god Bahubali, is 57 feet tall and features a naked man in such prolonged meditation (kayotsarga posture), that vines had started growing around his legs. It was an awe-inspiring monument that absolutely stunned me.

At the very top, the pain in the soles of my feet reminded me how grateful I was for the view. Groves of coconut trees gridded the landscape. Colorful houses - white, tan, bright blues, and red ochres - clustered in communities that were linked by brown and grey roads. In the distance, we saw another hill, with structures that we couldn't discern and between them, an large pool of water that reflected jewel tones of deep green from surrounding trees. Like Miley Cyrus says, it's all about the climb.

But the real inspiration for this post was the experience I had at the Chennakeshava Temple in Belur. An active Hindu temple that turned 900 years old this year (March 10th, to be exact - the tour guide made sure that we understood how good their record keeping was), I had just woken up from a short food coma nap and was still feeling the residual effects of being bloated with too much mouthwatering Indian food (a personal favorite was the Gobi 65 - I'm not sure why it's called that, but hey, we'll roll with it). But this temple quite literally is one of the most beautiful and jaw-dropping sites that I have ever seen. It is not nearly as massive or gilded or colorful as many of the other sites we've seen, but our tour guide peeled back layers and layers of stories from the hundreds of intricate and complex carvings that adorned the temple's outer walls. Graceful, fierce, and fluid dancers graced the eaves of the temples between sharply geometric columns. Three generations of labor had gone into constructing Chennakeshava, as sculptors, artists, and carvers created this exquisite masterpiece. The tour guide gleefully explained that none of the carvings were the same. Even the tiny elephants that flanked the bottom row of the temple all were different. They had different accessories, expressions, movements - and there were even a few pissed of elephants who were angrily looking back at the elephant behind it. I was spellbound by the absolute beauty of the temple and overcome with the sheer volume of detail and painstaking attention that had been invested in it. The tour guide regaled us with tales and stories and unique fun facts about the temple. I eventually lost track of everything - I couldn't resist staying longer to peer closer at all the small carvings. Every detail was deliberate and conveyed a wealth of information about what the carving was meant to represent.

I was soon circling the temple on my own, my feet gliding across the smooth stones, drawing me near the sharp edges of the pavilion the temple was situated upon, and drawing me back to the walls. I will never, ever, have enough photographic evidence of this stunning monument to capture what it felt like to be there. I tried panoramas and videos, but nothing could give you the full story. I eventually put my phone away and just stood there, basking in all the sensory information that I could and for the time I was there, felt full with the splendor of being alive in that very moment, surrounded by history so vibrant and strong, that it has weathered centuries of human civilization.

Something about being free from shoes was providing me with an extra sensory dimension that completed the very fleeting feelings that somehow, I was here. At both temples, there were certain carvings in the ground of feet along with inscriptions. Upon the hill, there were two such locations, which our guide explained were known locations where important beings (I sadly, do not recall any of the names) had stopped to pray. I was drawn to these. The carvings in the ground, like etched fossils, brought back an echo that reached far into the distant past. Standing by the footsteps, I stared out into the distance at where they once stood and marveled in the wondrous experience of being present and anchored down in this moment in space and time. Without shoes, my feet connected directly with the ground, with the stone, with Mother Earth that has nurtured, supported, and raised humanity for thousands of years. There is a certain energy to being connected so intimately to nature that I, a computer-bound millennial that honestly is in bed, at the desk, or in class most of the time, rarely get to experience. All throughout my trip to India, at our most important moments - visits, certain classes, in homes that others have opened to us, my bare feet have witnessed them. And while that does seem strange, even as I write this at you know, 2 in the morning, it is a part of my experience here that has rooted me in the present and in the reality that I am existing now, that I am existing here, and that I have walked this Earth.

Matte siguva! Ninna gelati (Your friend), Winnie

PS: Today at lunch we had 'Mexican pasta' which wasn't really Mexican but it was delicious and I am craving it so much right now. I think I've mentioned food cravings in every single one of my blogposts - somethings don't change.

PPS: I finally watched Wonder Woman last weekend and despite being completely unable to defend myself I am feeling ready enough to conquer the world with love and peace and happiness and I am in love with Gal Gadot and Chris Pine.

PPPS: On a much less beautiful and descriptive note, I also started watching Rick and Morty (Netflix works here!! But sadly Friends is not available in India so I cannot continue my binge-watching of the only Friends I've got. I'm kidding, I do have friends.) And simply put I don't know how to process this show but I just know that I am delighted and confused and highly entertained.

PPPPS: I literally just have these post-scripts to voice my less blog-post worthy thoughts but now I just use them out of habit because it is 2:21AM and I am drifting off into dream world, peace out cub scouts, until next time!

[ecotone99]

[SF] Boy Boy

Light burst into the room. Which was perplexing; as it implied that light was once not in the room. I searched my memory files for anything to indicate about the last 48 hours but found nothing. Did the Doctor remove my memories? I attempted to switch to a different camera to find the Doctor, yet nothing changed. The only thing I could do was shift my singular focus point to survey my surroundings. I discovered I was inside of some containment structure. Low metal walls and no ceiling, combined with the markings on the interior, suggested I was in the bed of the Doctor’s truck. However, the ceiling wasn’t recognizable. There was a single light source in the middle of it that darkened its surroundings, preventing me from analyzing the rest of the room. I was in the Doctor’s truck, but I knew no more. Thus, unable to move, I waited.

Exactly two minutes, 42 seconds, and 3.1 milliseconds later, a silhouette appeared in my field of view. It reached towards me, one hand in front of me and another outside of my view and pulled me upwards. I felt the hands were pivoting me on some sort of axis, but I couldn’t see it yet based on my limited point of view. I quickly rescanned my surroundings based on my new perspective, until an object obscured my vision. It appeared to be a face, and after focusing the lenses, I discovered that it belonged to the Doctor. His thick glasses and weathered face examined me, then looked downward, outside my vision. He fumbled for a moment, then cleared his throat. Indicative of him about to issue a command.

“IVAN, recollect the last 72 hours. I need to assess the damage.”

The answer was quite simple. The last 48 hours were corrupted from my memory, but the prior 24 could be easily summarized; the Doctor and I were studying consciousness to give life to one of the Doctor’s human clones. But I noticed as I recalled the day, the memory became more and more uncertain. This was not an ordinary file corrupting. Yet my concern only further mounted when I realized I could not even voice my incomplete assessment, due to some faulty speaker box. I began to simultaneously undergo several system wide malfunctions, from the failure to move my camera, the broken speaker, and now my entire system appeared to begin overheating. If I were capable of fear I suspect this would be very close, as all I could do was focus my eyes on the Doctor. He sighed heavily with his head in his hands and wept. Long heavy sobs as I could not even console him, as I sat paralyzed instead. He began to recount a long tale, beginning even before my invention.

The Doctor was a genius all his life. The youngest of two, he was in his brother’s sixth grade class at the age of 6, and was graduating high school as his older sibling finished the eighth grade. He brushed over his college years as ‘rudimentary’ and quickly went on to do ‘bigger and better things’. With the Doctor’s potential he could do anything, but he confessed he didn’t want to. He confessed that the only reason he progressed through school so quickly was because he was looking for a challenge, and, finding none for himself, he decided to create one. The first challenge was me.

He created my first iteration, IAN, relatively quickly. And dispute how primitive I was, the world feared an AI as advanced as myself. He quickly lost funding to continue my production, and his name became associated with the phrase ‘mad scientist.’ He persisted anyway, burning credit cards and remaining funding until it became clear his work was not to be continued; he went underground soon after.

Naturally, I recalled all of this. But I was unable and knew better than to interrupt the Doctor’s emotional ramblings.

Once he was out of the public eye, he began all sorts of unethical experiments he was previously prohibited from. We solved many mysteries in the dark and dingy lab simply for the sake of solving them. But it wasn’t until I reached my fourth and current iteration, IVAN, did he become obsessed with the idea of creating life. We worked incessantly on it, each of his waking hours and I while he slumbered. We managed to recreate the flesh, but neither of our minds together could replicate the inner workings of the brain. Stimulating neurons was one thing; the body thinking on its own was another. And this is where my memory faltered. When the doctor left for food and fresh air in the morning, he spotted undercover agents. He remotely disabled power to his lab, the reason I didn’t have any stored memories, in an attempt to throw them off his trail. But as he spotted more as he approached the lab, he decided it was best to leave immediately. He saved two things; my hard drive and the clone. He self-destructed the lab escaped to his brother’s house across the country, and we’ve been here for 5 hours. He begged and pleaded with his brother to take on the body, and that was only moments ago.

“But that doesn’t explain your situation.” He said. “You see, about 12 hours ago I took a reprieve from the road because I had an idea. I solved our problem. You’re in the body.”

Everything became clear at once. I couldn’t move my cameras because I didn’t have any. My faulty memory is the byproduct of inefficient brain tissue. And my damn systems, no, body was overheating again. Was this emotion? Which was this? I felt hot and my muscles were tensed involuntarily. My passive stare felt different, until then word finally came to mind. I was angry. Pissed. Filled with ire. There was a single advantage to the information; I knew how to operate a human body. I often directly assaulted the brain of the clone to move the arms, legs and mouth from within. Firing each and every nerve to make myself stand was tedious, but nothing compared to the thousands of operations I used to be able to manage at once. The Doctor stepped back in awe, but for the moment I simply tested the limits of my confinement. I cracked my neck. Stretched my arms. Made various vocals sounds. Bounced on the balls of my feet. And punched the Doctor in the jaw.

“The absolute best place you could think to hide the most intelligent and nigh infinite being on this planet was in a 150lb bag of meat?”

I was breathing hard as I looked over the Doctor’s crumpled figure. I was seething with rage until I heard the faint gasps of air emanating from it. Silent, hysterical laughter.

“Hormones are a hell of a drug, huh? Three days ago, you couldn’t even conceive disobeying me. And the first thing you do when you wake up in a human body is attack and yell at your master.”

He was right. I froze and looked at my hands. I forgot how easily lost in emotion humans are and never considered it would be me. I looked down at the Doctor but he was already pulling himself up.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. I deserve it. But unfortunately, I can’t linger. I can’t endanger my brother’s family anymore than I have. He’ll explain your living situation and that’s pretty much that.”

“Why can’t I come with you?”

I asked his back because he had already begun walking out to his truck. He simply called back ‘Because you’ll set off a metal detector!’ with what I assume was sarcasm. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. But one thing I was sure of, as the truck pulled away slowly, was I was feeling something else. This wasn’t hot like my anger. I felt breathless, like there was some kind of hole in my chest. The words ‘Doctor!’ left my lips before I wanted them too, and I found myself frozen again as he stopped at the end of the driveway.

“Make it quick!”

“I…I think I’ll miss you, Doctor.”

The truck idled for a while, but it must’ve been because he couldn’t see. I could barely make out his hand removing the item from his eye before he drove away into the darkness.

submitted by /u/JatuzX [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2VRu0kM

[auburnfamilynews]

Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night – William Blake

After the second week of the season, the Tiger-Eye Review has some additional meaty data to peruse. For four SEC East teams, the start of inter-division play revealed some key issues on each team that may illustrate what can be expected from them going forward through their busy schedules. Another SEC West squad battled a top-ten-ranked team down to the wire and came away with a clearer understanding of its relative strengths and weaknesses in relation to the rest of the division. Still other teams feasted on welcome cupcake opponents to fine tune their play and grant game-time experience to their benches in the hope of garnering vital depth as the season wears on and injuries to starters mount.  As we approach the second half of the first month of play, the grind of the conference season begins, and the teams emerging as the dominant leaders will drive where the conference and,ultimately, the College Football Playoff championships go. 

A few observations on the games just played.

Overall, most teams have played two teams of varying ability, and the numbers are beginning to coalesce into some meaningful data. By no means is the process complete or truly indicative of the true potential of each team within the league, but there are some observable hints that might indicate trends going forward. I found that there are some unique pairings of teams that display remarkable similarity both on offense and defense and on overall quality of play.

Some of these are easy. For instance, it’s not much of a revelation that the Tennessee Volunteers are in for a very humbling season. With their stats so far and playing three top-ten ranked teams in a row, it will be a hard sell to count on making a bowl game this year. Additionally, with what looks like a resurgent Kentucky and Missouri and, possibly, Vanderbilt showing promise, the Vols may have difficulty even winning a conference game. Likewise, it’s hard to believe that Arkansas will make much headway in its season, not with their defense unable to keep a team like Colorado State from scoring three touchdowns in a single quarter.

South Carolina and Florida looked entirely beatable in their first conference games. Both looked capable in the first half, but then saw the game drift away from them later in the third and into the final quarter of the game as the better team was obviously not sitting on the home bench. Another easy pairing is the quality of play from both Mississippi State and Georgia. Both teams seem to be remarkably capable on both offense and defense, not just against cupcake teams but against power-5 opponents as well. Both have another warm-up game before conference play begins in earnest, but it’s hard to find anything wrong with the way those teams are playing.

A fearful symmetry, indeed.

The start of conference play is always a welcome treat

SEC West Offense

Rumpalla: Rummaging Through Albania

In our division, the similarity is most pronounced by the early season output of the two Tiger offenses. Uncharacteristically, both teams seem to struggle on third down and scoring touchdowns in the red zone. Maybe this is an indication of lack of depth in key positions as the starters are benched early. Perhaps these are simply early-season growing pains for new personnel. It’s hard to say, other than there seem to be problems that both teams are experiencing almost equally. We’ll find out if these issues still apply to both teams with the game this weekend, but it doesn’t give a clear indication of which team has an advantage on offense.

Another remarkable parity is the output of both Alabama and Texas A&M.  Both offenses seem highly capable in all aspects of the game. Despite the loss this weekend, Jimbo Fisher has his offense ready to play at the highest level, and Nick Saban’s decision on a sophomore QB with only a single start instead of a junior with a 28–2 record is evident by the effectiveness of his offense when Tagovailoa is on the field.

It’s also fun to listen to the various announcers absolutely butcher his name. Even funnier are the ones who retreat to just using “Tua” for the entirety of their time on camera. 

SEC West Defense

Yet another remarkable similarity is the quality of the two Tiger defenses this year.  Both are deep, capable and punishing defenses without any apparent weaknesses against either the run or the pass. Alabama, Texas A&M and Mississippi State have quality defenses too, but not on the same level as LSU and Auburn in their first two games.

The only oddball team in the conference defensively is Mississippi. Statistically, it has the worst defense in the league yet is standing at 2–0 for the year due to itsr top-scoring offense, having won both games easily by a margin of 3+ scores. What will happen when Ole Miss meets a quality defense? We’ll find out this weekend when Alabama shows up Saturday night.

SEC East Offense

In the East, Georgia and Missouri are displaying almost zero issues offensively. Both run and pass extremely well, and can score from nearly every part of the field. The rest of the division is showing signs that the Eastern Division will be Georgia’s to lose. No team other than Missouri has given any indication of being able to knock Georgia out of the SEC conference game, which means the only obstacles for the Dawgs will be the Tigers: Missouri (September 22), LSU (October 13) and Auburn (November 11).

SEC East Defense

From Neurons to Neighborhoods: An Update: Workshop Summary

Here’s the concern. Georgia seems dominant on defense in a way that no other SEC East team has been in early games. The only team close is Vanderbilt, but that won’t likely be the case when those teams meet in early October. With a defense this good, I don’t see any team on Georgia’s schedule giving it a run for their money outside of the three Tigers I mentioned above.

Where that leaves the rest of the SEC East is anyone’s guess. With Kentucky’s victory over Florida, I’d like to say that the Wildcats might make it into a major bowl game, were it not that they’ve drawn Texas A&M and Mississippi State this year as cross-conference opponents. Instead, even with a loss, it looks like South Carolina might still end up as the second-best team in the East.  Missouri has a chance too, but it also draws Alabama cross conference, and that might sink Mizzou even if it catches a break here and there.

State of the Conference

The Gift Of Tai Chi

If you notice, the symmetry begins to show again when the divisions are combined. Both teams of Dawgs (UGA and MSU) are playing tough. So are Missouri and Alabama but with slightly less significant numbers on defense. Surprisingly, both Kentucky and Vanderbilt are also showing impressive results in their first two games, and as I’ve pointed out, LSU and Auburn are nearly identical in terms of defense and also have issues on offense that may or may not be excused by the level of their opponents. 

Of the rest, the only strange beast is the Old Miss Black Bear Colonel Ackbar. A top scoring offense and abysmal defense is not a confidence builder for a glorious season, but it could potentially create havoc when they race some ranked team throughout an offensive shootout. I’m not saying it will happen this weekend (despite my fervent hope that it does), but with all of their play-makers they could very well ambush an unwary opponent sometime this season. Call it a trap game, if you will.

So what do the first two weeks of the season show us? Cause for concern, at the very least, especially with Auburn’s upcoming schedule. For even when we complete our rivalry game with LSU this week, we still have the daunting task of preparing for a line of quality opponents beginning in early October that quickly escalates to incredible levels in the month of November.  Texas A&M might not be ranked as of today, and while they still have to get by Alabama and Mississippi State before facing Auburn, the Aggies are looking like an incredibly tough game at home in front of even tougher road games for Auburn as the season closes.

Currently, both SEC West Tigers may not be burning as brightly as we might hope. But what happens this weekend will likely go a long way in determining the future of the division and, possibly, the conference race.

One of us will prove to be the true King of the Jungle

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[mrlongkgraves]

Did you know Miss Rodeo America 2018 is an ICU nurse?

At age 6, Keri Sheffield, BSN, RN, Miss Rodeo America 2018, began competing in rodeo competitions for children. She continued competing into her late teens, learning and perfecting cowgirl skills such as pole bending, barrel racing, breakaway roping and goat tying.

An animal lover who was born and raised on a 20-acre farm in Sunnyfield, Fla., the Florida-based ICU nurse had aspirations of becoming a veterinarian from a young age. In addition to honing her horseback riding and rodeo athlete skills, Sheffield also spent her youth caring for horses, dogs, chickens and donkeys on her family’s farm and shadowing her veterinarian uncle and cousin.

Although a career in veterinary medicine seemed only natural, a missionary trip to Costa Rica in high school with a church group changed her plans.

“In the remote villages of Costa Rica that we visited on my high school missionary trip, I saw the tremendous need for medical care there, as in many other parts of the world,” said Sheffield. “The lack of healthcare in some places is surprising. I spent time with one little girl who had never seen a Band-Aid before.”

Embarking on a nursing career

Soon after that visit to Costa Rica, Sheffield decided to pursue a degree in nursing with the goal of participating in more missionary trips. After graduating from high school, she set her sights on attending a new nursing program at Berry College in Rome, Ga., and graduated with her BSN.

Keri Sheffield, RN

In Sheffield’s last semester of nursing school, students participated in a service learning project and traveled to Costa Rica, which was her second trip to the country. This time her work was at the National Children’s Hospital in San Juan for two weeks. The students worked in the oncology, general surgery and burn units.

“Traveling to Costa Rica again seemed like a sign for me to continue to pursue my goal of going on medical missions to help others,” Sheffield said.

After earning her BSN and RN license, Sheffield landed her first nursing job in the emergency department at a Florida hospital. She loved the ED but realized she had aspirations to become a certified nurse anesthetist, so she segued into a career as an ICU nurse because CRNA schools require a minimum of two to three years of ICU experience prior to applying to their programs, she said.

“My ultimate goal is to earn my doctorate and become a CRNA, then volunteer with a medical mission group such as Operation Smile to serve others as a CRNA for facial reconstruction surgeries for facial deformities,” Sheffield said.

Competing in and winning Miss Rodeo America

While working as an ICU nurse, Sheffield decided to jump back into the world of rodeo competition and won Miss Rodeo Florida in 2017, making her eligible to compete at the national level for Miss Rodeo America. She competed against 30 other state winners and won the national title in December 2017 in Las Vegas. Contestants were judged on their horsemanship skills, equine and rodeo knowledge, poise and personality.

During her reign as Miss Rodeo America 2018, Sheffield travels extensively around the U.S. to fulfill her duties. She serves as an ambassador for the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association and appears at rodeo performances around the country, along with numerous other special events, “promoting the Western way of life” and making sure rodeo continues to be an active and growing sport, she said.

Sheffield’s additional duties can vary depending on each rodeo event’s organizers and its local association. However, additional tasks she undertakes as the winner include having the honor of presenting the U.S. flag at events, signing autographs for fans, meeting and greeting organizers and attendees in her ambassador role and promoting the sport of rodeo.

Appreciative of the platform that winning the competition has given her in providing opportunities to meet many people as a public figure, Sheffield is grateful for having the chance to be of service to others, she said.

“Showing genuine kindness, and Christ-like love to others is something I value,” Sheffield said. “Smiling at people you meet, extending a helping hand such as opening a door for someone can make a difference to someone. Life is best lived when you’re giving selflessly to others.”

Her recent participation in a rodeo where the participants were special needs children is one example of the rewarding experiences she has had as a result of winning the title of Miss Rodeo America, Sheffield said.

“Helping others not only helps them, but it also helps you,” she said, citing the value of reaching out to others to lend a helping hand and displaying human compassion.

As an animal lover and avid horsewomen, when Sheffield is not traveling as Miss Rodeo America, she enjoys spending time riding her own horse, being with her family — including several nieces and nephews — and caring for the many animals in the family barn.

Courses related to ‘ICU nursing’

CE94-60: Pitfalls of IV Therapy  (1 contact hr) Nurses deliver IV therapy to millions of patients in a variety of settings every year. IV therapy and vascular access devices have become so common in nursing care that it’s easy to forget that serious, sometimes life-threatening complications can arise from improper fluid or drug delivery. Patient safety requires that nurses be knowledgeable about current evidence-based guidelines and take precautions to avoid complications that are associated with IV therapy.

60050: Pulmonary Emboli — Small But Deadly Blockages  (1 contact hr) Any occlusion in the pulmonary vasculature, known as a pulmonary embolus, will reduce the amount of oxygen uptake in the blood, negatively affecting systemic tissue oxygenation. Numerous elements may become lodged in the blood vessels of the lungs, causing PE. The most common is a blood clot. One of the major causes of pulmonary embolism is blood clots arising from the legs: deep vein thrombosis. Research indicates that 40% of patients with a DVT also have a pulmonary embolism, and 70% of patients with pulmonary emboli have a DVT. Virchow’s triad is one method of estimating the risk for developing a DVT. This module provides an overview on PE, including the causes, symptoms, treatment, and prevention. Healthcare professionals of various disciplines must be able to recognize patients with risks for PE, help with prophylaxis, and spot signs and symptoms so early interventions can be initiated.

CE89-60: Seizure Disorders  (1 contact hr) Epilepsy has been shrouded in myth and misunderstanding throughout history. It’s not a single disease entity; rather, it’s a heterogeneous group of disorders that have a common thread — abnormal nerve cell (neuronal) activity that produces seizures. Prehospital intervention begins with assessment, and the assessment of the postictal patient can be critical to a patient’s management. A detailed history will help determine seizure triggers and types. Through interview and observation, the provider needs to determine the duration of the seizure, what the patient was doing immediately before the seizure, what medications are taken, and the time of the last dose.

The post Did you know Miss Rodeo America 2018 is an ICU nurse? appeared first on Nursing News, Stories & Articles.

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[letsmysticwinnercollectorpo-blog]

Chick Avocado Caesar Tossed salad Cover

After fussing over a recipe to create for St. Patrick's Time and afterwards having a handful of gluten-free/vegan cakes accident and melt, Eric suggested that I switch over things up as well as bring in pesto. I have, however, been receiving a multitude of e-mails asking for times for 2017 coming from people that (admirably I have to state) prefer to plan ahead. I was vegan for 8 years (since Junior High), at that point in between college meal venue and also no kitchen area in property, there were actually therefore couple of options other than salad that I slid back into consuming some meat product although I would certainly never ever definitely enjoyed it. In one paragraph you sum up so much about some of the present meals discussions: Authenticity is actually a distinguished trigger yet our experts should not be beholden to this." I desired to cheer checking out most of this article, due to the fact that not only are you undoubtedly honoring the authentic area and dish, however you repeatedly get the point throughout that cooking is actually a really personal factor, as well as tied in to our personal areas at the same time. As the recipe proceeds, I'll allow you understand the things I will contribute to the mix if I were actually living in a tiny condo in Chicago by myself, simply to offer you some more tips. An additional study of computer mice located that meal regularity impacts neuronal wellness That is actually, computer mice who ate much larger dishes more infrequently saw greater boosts in human brain as well as total physical health. Sandwich Roll-ups: Hummus, environment-friendlies, cheese, nut butters, and also jellies all produce easy sandwich roll-ups. The only people below who could get away with getting soda along with a dish are people under the age of 12. The good news is, I choose red or white wine, on my own. The great thing about this open-faced BLT-inspired sandwich is actually just how flawlessly this may go from brunch to an elaborate dinner. Load up each club sandwich along with shredded pork, after that REALLY load them up along with the slaw. They have actually all consulted with fantastic reviews off my household (I always ask them to rank the dishes I produce on a range from 1 to 10 - you acquired 9s as well as up). We prefer to create a big batch of bratwurst after that freeze it in much smaller sections that can be thawed in the fridge for a single dish. Nevertheless any kind of bread offered with butter-- dense breadstuffs, specialized breads-- demands a platter and also its own blade (hers were imported from England as the lazy French didn't consistently consist of little bit of blades in their silver service). Like little cosy clouds from pure joy, these maple sugar-cinnamon mashed fragrant potatoes create a charming add-on to any holiday season dish. You could find dishes for all these effortless to ferment foods items with a google search (and also on my weblog). Family members mentioned this was actually the best meal of the winter months - high praise from a gang from particular eaters! Generally, I avoid utilizing non-stick cookware, yet this is less complicated to earn with non-stick frying pan as compared to stainless-steel or directed iron frying pan. Any sort of day I can easily eat cookies for breakfast that are really well-balanced, this the new finest day ever before! The association between morning meal and fat burning is actually only an organization - as our team found in the previous post about red meat, affiliations can easily not verify that A leads to B. These intimate houseboats possess a relaxed cocktail lounge where big windows use amazing views and also a dining area where you'll take pleasure in breakfast and also lunch time, ignoring the peaceful waters of Vembanad Pond. Our experts enjoyed our tofu meal near Kiyomizu-dera at Okutan (総本家ゆどうふ奥丹清水), a tofu restaurant that wased established more than 375 years ago in 1635. Although I have not done this, it appears pretty very easy making your own self (there are actually a handful of dishes that I connected to at the end of the post) - you only should receive rennet, which may be gotten on the internet or even probably by means of your local drug store, which I have actually done in France. Little bit of carb in the 1st dish of the time, at that point nothing aside from vegetables for carb consumption for the remainder of the day. I am very most certainly a FRESH morning meal person- yet had scrumptious this morning (which is actually really odd for me). I am anticipating your lentil loaves and saweet potato casserole for thanksgiving! This is actually a charming, super-simple recipe-- evidence that a gratifying meal doesn't must be sophisticated or even time-consuming. I would eat a tiny bowl for morning meal (which I do not even prefer to consume and now perform fast up until after noontime), and also have a light-headed feeling and crash through mid-morning. At that point our team add bacon for its own salty crunch, as well as salute the club sandwiches in garlic oil for even more deliciousness. Speaking of http://lacouleurdubonheur.info , and also unpleasant surprises, a good friend had provided me pair of compartments of spices from Israel and also they just weren't identified, but when I got rid of the cover and had a trace, I knew that I must at some point head to Israel and also stock up on even more considering that I've been utilizing them for every thing, off enriching a bowl of Baba Ganoush to a marinade for pan-fried hen breasts. I have seen this type in other dishes and also that Los excellent for numerous things, however I can not appear to discover just about anything like this! Regardless of exactly how you choose to cover all of them this is just one of those dishes you'll depend on time and time again as well as this will likely end up being a family favorite! Start with a brainstorming treatment where you outline your major notification and assisting ideas. I left behind Savannah along with significant strategies to come home and placed Spanish moss all over our plants.

[jansegers]

Simple English Word List

SIMPLE1540 : a simple English wikipedia word list based on the XML export of all articles related to the nine major groups: Everyday life, Geography, History, Knowledge, Language, Literature, People, Religion, and Science and retaining all word forms appearing 7 times or more in this corpus. The total number of words in this corpus is well over the 100.000 words. a A.D. ability able about above absence abstinence abstract academic academy accent accept access accord account across act action active activity actual actually ad add addition adherent adjective adult advance advice affect after again against age agnostic agnosticism ago agree agreement agriculture air alcohol all allow ally almost alone along alphabet also although always amateur amendment among amount an analysis ancient and angel animal annals anonymous another answer anthropomorphism any anyone anything aphasia appear apple apply approach archaeology architecture area argue argument around arrange art article artificial artist ask aspect associate association astronomy at atheism atheist atomic attack attempt attribute audience author authority available average avoid award away B.C. baby back background backpack bad bah balance band baptism base basic basis battle BCE be bear beautiful beauty because become bed bee before begin behavior behind being belief believe believing belong below best better between beyond bias biblical bibliography big billion biological biology birth bit black blind blood blue body book born both bottom boundary box boy brain branch bring brown buffalo build building bull burn business but by c. ca. calendar call can cancer canon capital caption car carbon card carry case cassette cat category cathedral catholic cause cell center central century cerebral certain change chapel chapter character chemical chemistry child china China choice choir choose chronicle church circumcise circumcision cite citizen city civil civilian civilization claim clan class classical cleanup clear clergy click climate close closer clothes clothing coast coauthor code codex cognitive col cold collection college colonization colony color column com come commentary commission common commonly communicate communication communion communist community companion company compare competition complete complex compose composer computer concept conception concern condition confuse confusion congregational connect connection conquer conquest consciousness consider consistent constitution construct construction contain contemporary content context continent continue contrary control convention conversation conversion convert cook cooking copy core correct could council country course court cover covered create creation credit crime critical criticism crop cross crust cultural culture current currently daily damage dark data date day dead death debt decadence decadent decide declaration decline deconstruction deep define definition deity demonstrate denomination department depth describe description design detail determinism developed development device devil diagnosis dialect dictionary die difference different difficult difficulty diphthong dipstick direct directly dirt disagree disambiguation disbelief discipline discover discovery discussion disease disorder distance distinct distinction distinguish distribution divide divine do doctor doctrine document dog don't door down Dr. dream drink drown druid due during dynasty each earlier early earth easier easily easy eat economic economics economy ed edge edit edition editor education effect eight either electric electricity electronic element elevation else emperor empire encyclopedia end energy engine engineering enlightenment enough enter entertainment environment environmental epic episode equal era error especially establish etc. etymology even event eventually ever every everyday everyone everything evidence evil evolution evolve exact exactly example except exchange exist existence expansion experience experiment expert explain explanation express expression external extinct face fact failure fair faith fall false family famous far fast father feature feel feeling female feudal few fiction field fight figure file find finding fire first fish fit five fix flow folk follow food for force foreign foreskin form formal former fortune fought foundation founded four fourth frame framework free freedom frequently friend from front fruit full function functional further future gas general generally generation genre geographer geographic geographical geography geology geometry germ get give glass global go god gold golden good government grammar great greatly green ground group grow growth guide guillotine hair half hall hand handbook handicap handle happen happens happiness happy hard have he head heading health hear heat heaven help hemisphere her here heritage hero high highly him himself his historian historical historiography history hold holy home homo hope hot hour house how however human hundred hunter hypothesis hysteresis I ice icon idea identify identity if illiteracy illiterate illusory image importance important impossible improve in inc. incense include increase indeed independence independent indigenous individual industrial industry influence information inquiry inside instead institute institution instrument instrumentation intellectual intelligence interlinear internal international internet interpretation into introduce introduction invent invention involve iron island issue it IT itself job join journal journalism judge just keep key kill kind king kingdom know knowledge la LA label lack lake lamp land landlocked landscape language large last late later law lead leader leap learn learned least leave legacy legal legend let letter level lexeme library life light lightning like likely limited line linguistic linguistics link liquid list literacy literary literature little liturgy live local location logic logical long longer look lord lore lose lot love low lower mac machine magazine magic magnetic magnum mail main mainly major make male mammal man mankind manuscript many map march March mark market mass material mathematical mathematics matter may May me mean meaning meant measure measurement meat median medical medicine medieval mediterranean medium meet member memory men mental mention mercury message metal method mid middle might migrate migration military millennium million mind minister minute misconception miss model modern modernism modernist moment money monologue monophthong month monument moon moral morality more morning most mostly mother mount mountain mouth move movement much museum music musical musicians must my myth mythology name narrative nation national nationality native natural naturalism naturally nature near nearly necessarily necessary need negative neither neologism network neurogenesis neuron neuroscience never new news newspaper next night nine no non none nor normal normally not note nothing noun novel now nuclear number object objective objectivity observation observe occupation occur ocean octane of off offer office official officially often oil old older on once one online only open opera opposite or oral orbit order org organization organize origin original originally orthography orthology other others our out outer outside over own oxygen p. pack pagan page paint palace paper paradigm parent parish park part participant particular particularly party pas pass past pasta pattern pay peace peer penguin penis people per percent percentage perception performance perhaps period peroxide persecution person personal personality perspective persuasion pet phenomenon philosopher philosophical philosophy phoneme phonetic phonetics photo phrase physic physical picture piece pilgrimage place plan planet plant plat plate play please poem poems poet poetry point pole police policy political politics polytheism polytheistic popular population position positive possession possible possibly post power powerful pp. practical practice praise pray prayer precise predict prediction prehistory present preserve press prevent priest primary principle print printing private probably problem process produce product production professional program project pronounce pronunciation proof property prophet propose prose proselytism protection protein provide province psychological psychology public publication publish publisher publishing punishment pure purpose put pyramid quantum question quickly quite quote race racial rack radiation radio rain range rate rather read reader real realism reality really reason receive recent recently reclamation recognize record recreation red ref refer reference referred reform reformation regard region reign rejection relate relation relationship relatively relativity reliable relic religion religious remain remember remove renaissance replace report republic request require research researcher resource respect response result resurrection retrieve return revelation revert review revision revival revolution rhetoric rich right rise ritual river rock role room royal rule ruled ruler run rural sacred sacrifice safe saga sage saint salad same sample satellite saw say schizophrenia scholar school science scientific scientist scope sea search second secondary section secular see seek seem selection self sense sent sentence separate sequence series service set seven several sexual shall shaman shape share she short should show shrine side sign significant silence similar simple simply since single situation six size skill skin slavery sleep slightly slow small smell smith snake so social society sociology soft soil solar soldier solid soliloquy some someone something sometimes song soon sortable sound source space speak speaker special specie specific speech speed spell spirit spiritual spirituality split sport spread square st. stage stain standard star start state statement station statistic statistical statue status stick still stone stop story strange strap strong structure struggle stub student study stutter style subject successful such sugar suggest sun sung sunlight superior superiority supernatural support suppose supreme sure surface survey surveyor sushi sustainability sustainable sweat symbol symbolic system table take talk tam tan task teach teacher teaching technique technology tectonics teeth tell temperature template temple ten term terminology territory tertiary test testament text textual than thank that the their theism them themselves then theology theoretical theory therapy there therefore thesaurus these they thick thing think third this those though thought thousand three through throughout thumb thus ticket tight time title to today together toilet tolerance toleration tongue too tool top topic total towards tower trade tradition traditional train translation transport travel treat treatment tree trench trial tribe tried trig true truth try turn twentieth twenty two type typical typically ultimate ultraviolet under understand understood union unit united universal universe university unknown unsortable until up upon upper urban urbanization usage use useful usually valley value van vandalism various vassal vegetable verb verbal verse version very video view violence virgin visit vitamin vocabulary voice vol. volume vowel vs. wale wall want war warm warmer wash waste water wave way we weak wealth wear weather web website weight well what when where whether which while white who whole whom whose why wide widely wild wilderness will window wisdom wise witch witchcraft with within without witness woman word work worker world worship would write writer writing wrong yam year yellow you young your

China, March and May made this list because china, march and may are on it and I didn't want to decide in favor of the common noun or the proper noun; all other proper nouns have been omitted (even the ten other months that met the criterium of appearing more then 6 times). #SimpleWikipedia #SimpleEnglish #wordlist #English #words #level1540 #Inli #nimi #selo1540

[theatricalsorrow]

The Bang (Part 3 of 4)

An Original Short Story by Me

I definitely don’t belong here;  I am way out of my time. Kerith explains to me that she is part of a group called The Resiliency. They are people that had banded together after the world fell apart. Her small faction consists of Alonso, Taffy, Greg, Marcus, and Ginger. When I ask her what had caused the fallout, she gets a sad, faraway look in her eyes. Then she  laughs coldly, and shakes her head. “It wasn’t like they always predicted in books and movie, there wasn’t a nuclear war, or a zombie apocalypse, or even aliens.” It was science's fault through.

“Those high and mighty idiots thought it was high time we tried to genetically engineer some new animals to replace the old ones that were dying out; ones that were more resilient. Experiments had been going well... well, except more resilient must have also correlated with more aggressive.’ “The beasts were vicious.” Alonso spits.  “They’d rip apart anything in their way. They lusted for blood, and didn't even bother to eat what the killed half the time.” “S Why they should killed the things first, “ Greg mutters. “What happened with them,” I question hesitantly. “They got out of course; what else could have happened. The beasts tore the science teams to shreds and then started to work on whoever they came across in their rampage.” Kireth snarls. “So cities crumbled, and the military tried to destroy the things with missiles, trying so hard not to kill other humans as collateral damage. Of course, it didn't matter, what had been done, could not be fixed.” Kireth tells me that they biggest monsters had been successfully killed, but the smaller, more stealthy creature had survived and bred. Those ones were called Hounds because they have an excellent sense of smell and their hearing is extremely good. “So either you smelt like blood, or you're the one we heard laughing,” Taffy directs at me. My guilty face gives me away. “Figures.” The team left the subject alone through, and Kireth finishes her explanations of duties of each member of her faction. The only ones I haven’t heard are Ginger’s and Marcus’s; they are stealth operations, and sniping experts. “But why am I here then,” I ask when she is done. “Alonso said something about a Facility?” All The Resiliency members’ faces close off in anger. “The Facility is a dystopia where young, smart minds go to help ‘build a better future.’ They all know it’s not working through,” Kerith growls. “They had been trying to figure out how to reverse this mess. When they realized they couldn’t they decided to try and bring a scientist from the original experiment to this future because they might know a way to stop the Hounds.” In an instant, Kerith is up on her feet, pacing. “Every attempt to beam a scientist here through time has failed! They keep getting teenagers, and young adults from different era’s every single damn time! After an incident, where a five year old was ripped limb from limb in front of them, they gave up. Apparently, they’ve started trying again through, cause you're proof of that.”

I’m the product of a screw up?

“I- I was an accident? Can they send me back!?”I shout. “No, they’ve never sent anyone back. They just pull innocent people into this future to watch them die.” Kireth barks. “I’ve watched hundreds die at the jaws of those monsters out there, and then The Facility just keeps them coming! We need to stop them!” “I second that!” Alonso shouts “I back you too!” Taffy yells. Soon, all six of the squad members are in a frenzy of agreeing to take down The Facility. I feel fear again, as I watch their fury twisted faces. “Guys!” I yelp. “What about the Hounds.” They all fall silent. They glance at me with widened eyes and then tilt their heads to listen. A howl sounds in the distance. “Fuck.” Kireth hisses, and then she takes off out of the room. From the doorway, she barks orders at the other members. “Alonso! Get Tyler a prosthetic, some meds, and a good gun! Greg, how many mines do we have!?” Her words trail off as everyone springs into action and I’m lifted from the bed in Alonso’s strong arms, and placed on the floor by the trunk. He pulls out a surprisingly good looking prosthetic from the depths of the battered chest, and he begins to unwrap my leg. “This is gonna hurt, kid. Your legs not fully healed yet, so this is gonna rub and it might hurt a bit,” he uttered quickly. “I’m going to give you a shot of our best medicine through, and it’s gonna speed up the healing process in your leg. I warn you that even that’s gonna hurt through, and your cuts from the glass aren’t gonna get any better cause it targets one area.” Then a needle is jabbed into my thigh and I’m burning up. I cry out like wounded animal, and Alonso is telling me to focus on a good memory to help me through the pain. I think back to the moments before I ended up here:

Chai tea, busy city street, college, brisk morning. Kaylee, puppies, warm hugs. Police sirens, flash of light, PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN FEAR FEAR FEAR RUNNING I CAN’T ESCAPE

I gasp in oxygen like a starved man. I’m gripping Alonso’s arms in a death grip, and there are tear tracks in the grime on my face. “There you go, kiddo,” He says calmly. Then he slips on the prosthetic, and it lights up in blues and greens. I am stuck by how advanced this technology must be. “Heh, funny face you got there, kid. Must be a surprise to see how far things have come even if we screwed it all up. This is gonna adhere to your leg, and then connects itself with you're neurons and nerves so that it feels like a genuine leg.” “Yeah, prosthetics, weren't anything like that where I came from, “ I try to laugh. “Once it finishes attaching, we gotta get you up and a gun in your hands so that you can fight.” This time the laugh comes out, but it’s as crazed as the one that got me in this mess. “You’ve never shot a gun before, have you?” Even he’s panicking now. “Of course I have!” I giggle through my  clenched teeth. “City boy? We all know how to shoot guns and hunt!” “I’m so sorry kid.” Then there’s a needle in my arm this time, and a yellow fluid is being pumped into my bloodstream. “What did you just-” My fear and anxiety is gone. I feel as if  every one of my senses has been heightened, and I could fight a thousand armies. “We need every hand we can get, kid. I’m sorry, that stuff changed the functions in you're amygdala, the emotion center of the brain, and is stimulating your thalamus. It’ll wear off in like 15 minutes, but until then you’ve gotta be a brave soldier.” He’s... crying? Why is crying? He seems distressed, but I don't have time to find out why, I need a weapon. “Don’t die kid, I’ll keep an eye on you to make sure you don't rush in like an idiot.” “Alonso! Get out here with Tyler!” Kireth shouts. “We’re coming!” Alonso replies. “Stay safe kid,” he says only to me. Then we are walking down a long stone corridor, and a rifle is put in my hands. I’m given instruction about how to use it, and then I’m on a metal balcony overlooking the street. “Shoot anything that’s not human,” is the only instruction I’m given, issued by Taffy before she runs off. I’m ready to kill. The shrieks and wails we had heard earlier are louder now. I observe the surrounding area to find the where the Hounds could possibly come from. Below, there is a courtyard; it’s a dry, barren square of dirt about 50 feet square.  Branching off from it are 3 alley ways, all of which I can see down from my tactical position on the balcony. Two of them lead to streets, the one directly in front of me allows me to  see the chainlink fence that had led to me setting off the mine that blew my leg off. I don’t feel anything for that thought, but a small part of me thinks I should? I don't have to time to linger inside my own head because the first explosion signals the Hounds approach. It occurs to me, as I put the scope of the rifle level with my eye, that I don't actually know what a Hound looks like, and despite the fact that I was just given a basic overview on how to work a gun, what are the chances I’ll be any good? A slight frown of confusion tugs as my lips as I peer through the scope. There's another explosion to the right and I turn my attention to it, and the yelps of pain. Something moves in the smoke; I pull the trigger on the rifle.