#like those are two distinct issues even if they intertwine at times

[starlooove]

You put dick is retconned as Romani in the 90s so he’s white actually and Katy is retconned as Bruce’s cousin in the 2000s so she’s still his cousin in the same post? Ok

[centrally-unplanned]

The Harvard "crisis" is a very illustrative example of collective action problems & tipping points. What is happening now - simultaneously an institutional revolt by some of its board and influential donor class and a wider cultural zeitgeist degrading its status - is a reflection of very long-simmering tensions between its stakeholders.

Harvard, like most top universities, has a dozen+ stakeholders but for our purposes today they sort into two buckets; internal & external. Internally, it has to run a university that educates students & publishes papers - it needs to make those students happy, make its staff happy, etc. Externally, it has a brand to manage as a lodestone of America's elite reproduction, and a status-holder for a set of values of US (and even wider) society, as well as being a networking organization building relationships between and for said elite. These are intertwined goals - students only care about a Harvard education because it gets them rewards in the form of jobs from outside companies & orgs, which is in part (not all) a reflection of that societal status. And that outside societal status is replenished, again in part, by the success of its students after graduation, and so on. For this system to function each side needs to 'buy in'.

Starting in ~2010 most elite universities experienced a sea change in the values of their internal stakeholders; large swathes of vocal students and huge swathes of internal staff began to push for governance & priority shifts. These changes - like many societal changes btw, this is not a unique thing - did not have the majority on their side, but internally they were close enough (and, somewhat but not wholly uniquely, employed a variety of dissent-silencing techniques to maximize impact) to carry the day. They never had anywhere close to majority buy-in from external stakeholders; but the unique structure of universities is such that, while the missions are interdependent, their day-to-day operations are quite distinct. A lot of the changes over the past decade have been looked at askance by the donor class and groups like corporate hiring partners, but never askance enough to actually bother to do anything about it. It was too low-stakes to overcome the coordination problem of fighting the internal stakeholders, these things aren't the primary concern of external stakeholders.

So you get this string of controversies throughout the decade, as high-stakes as faculty firings or the Asian applicant discrimination case, to the low stakes culture drama of things like changing the title of "Housemasters". A lot of internal stakeholders were on the other side of these issues - they could have coalitioned with the external stakeholders, but they didn't care enough to really bother. It's all sizzle in the end, they can't coordinate in the face of the unified internal stakeholder mission.

Then Israel-Palestine hits, which is an issue that has its own extremely well organized, high valence stakeholders who absolutely, 100%, care enough to bother. They will take the opposition on and go to the absolute mat. Israel is extremely popular in the United States, Jewish people are literally the most popular religion in the country on some surveys, fighting terrorism is a bit out-of-mind but the default stance for both political parties, etc. But all that really isn't enough to get what you are getting right now - this is the seeds of long dissent, not the response to a singular misstep. After all the misstep was mealy-mouthed doublespeak at a hearing, it's not that high stakes.

However, while those external stakeholders didn't care enough for the past decade, they cared! And those internal stakeholders on the losing side *really* cared. And so suddenly an extremely salient, external stakeholder (America's Israel political advocacy group) shows up and starts scoring wins, and everyone in the room senses "oh yeah this is our time". And so they rise up in coalition to express, not just condemnation of the individual event, but building grievances with the direction of the university. They were just waiting for something to give them the push to do it.

Personally btw, I think the cleavage between the internal & external stakeholder's actual interest in how the university functions is too wide, and too independent of its day-to-day governance (Harvard is in many ways just a stamp for inherent student traits, but companies need that job done in society). As such this will fizzle with minimal changes. Still a good model for how these kinds of moments come about in driving change in social structures though, you need to study the full spectrum as it were.

[animodaoactive]

The most effective method to watch Latest Anime episodes ?

Anime is a style of animation popular in Japanese movies and TV series. Animedao frequently combines stark, bright graphics with action-packed plots. Early anime films were intended primarily for a Japanese audience. Therefore, they utilized many cultural references special to Japan.

Line Novel

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Liang Bu Yi

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swap. The fact that the emperor is now quite enraged is the most significant aspect. The emperor must deal with his vicious imperial concubines, of whom he has no knowledge, before things can return to normal, and the queen must act as a mediator between those ministers.. Liang Bu Yi

Let’s Nupu Nupu

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Lily C.A.T. (Dub)

Portrayal The Profound Rest Cases, innovation that has permitted man to contact the stars. These chambers slow the maturing system by 95%. The journey lasts twenty years, but the traveler is only one year old. It most certainly enjoys its benefits, yet after you've been on a couple of excursions, it sure gets desolate. However, that is not the primary issue at this time. It is 2264. The Syncam Organization has sent the Saldes and its group of 13 (and 1 feline) out into profound space to investigate the capability of a newly discovered planet 20 years away. However, as soon as they emerge from their stasis, a series of events begin to take place… Lily C.A.T. (Dub)

Like the Clouds, Like the Wind

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Lie Huo Jiao Chou

 In the modern era, a small number of people who are referred to as "Special Abilities" possess powers and skills that normal people do not possess. Lie Huo Jiao Chou  An independent association, the Degenerate Control Office, holds these Unique Capacities under wraps. Even though some people want to keep this peace and order, others want to use their skills to gain more power in this world.

[brekkie-e]

@asterofthesapphires

In regards to it being because she’s touch starved, I still don’t find that to be reasonable? She is one of the friendliest natured characters in the game who clearly in her reaction scenes considers all of the companions to be her dear friends. Even Astarion, who I imagine would roll his eyes at it half the time. She cares about everyone regardless of if they’re dtf or not. She is also the only companion who develops friendships outside of the party. She runs into her old friend outside of Sorcerer’s Sundries and is excited to be an auntie. She develops a bond with Dammon. She’s very close to Wyll to the point their endings can be intertwined.

So if anything, I feel she makes the most sense to be the game’s Dorian/Varric character. Game Assigned BFF. You can romance her, as you could with Dorian, but if you don’t- you’d have to be playing a very particular kind of character to turn her off to the point she isn’t your character’s best friend.

And honestly, it’s not just an issue within the relationships between player and companions. Most other games of it’s kind flesh out character relationships between the companions. DAO with Morrigan and Alistair, the many rivalries in DA2, Mass Effect has many, heck even the Horizon series makes very distinct relationships between the companions in the second game. Story based games like these need many different types of scenes for a complete narrative, imo. They can’t all be between the player and a singular companion. It makes it feel empty and flat. Where as the Inquisitor walking in on Cassandra hurling a chair at Varric makes it seem like the world around you is alive and reacting with or without you.

The game alludes to these scenes? Halsin mentioning seeing Shadowheart sneak off to change her hair. Minsc talking about an arm wrestle he had with Halsin. Shadowheart saying she caught Astarion practicing lines. If any of those interactions had been visually done? It would have made it feel much more alive at camp.

@lily-orchard I agree. I think that the reason I’ll cut BG2 a little slack is because it released in 2000, and was in many ways still one of the first of it’s kind. It improved upon aspects of BG1. Baldur’s Gate 3 has made leaps and bounds of improvement upon those two, but it’s frustrating that for all it’s an incredible game we are now in a situation of feeling like there are older rpg’s that did it better. Atleast, they did it better in my opinion.

I think the reason that the lack of multi-dimensional relationships within the party, and for Tav, is eating away at me so much recently is because it’s significantly affecting BG3’s replayableness for me. It’s a huge game, and I’m ever guilty of taking a completionist approach. Now, there are many branching narratives in BG3 which means there’s endless new content to explore by taking different approaches. Personally though, that’s not quite enough of a reason for me to want to keep revisiting a story. I don’t feel compelled to replay hundreds of hours worth of content just to see what happens to Sazza if you rescue her in Act 1 instead of leaving her in the cage. But if I’m invested in a story and the characters in it- I will replay a game 10,000 times just to rewatch my oc become ride or die besties and trauma bond with their companion. Thinking of Liara’s relationship with an unromanced Sheperd in ME3. Tali declaring herself Tali’zorah vas Normandy?? Gut wrenching. Garrus taking you out on a friend date and making fun of your go to catch phrase in the process? Iconic. Varric writing Cassandra a book to bury the hatchet between them? Unforgettable. Solas and Varric co-parenting a kid together? Can’t get enough of it. Those are the interactions that keep me coming back to replay a game over and over again. Seeing the effect my character has on the lives of their friends, and the effect their friends has on them. Absolutely, I adore the romance aspects of these kinds of rpg’s. It is also a reason I will replay a game. But I don’t want to replay a game as massive as BG3 if the only real significant connection my character develops during it is with their love interest. There’s too many hours that have to be invested to just be playing for a couple of scenes with their boo.

Same goes for trying different romances! If I want to try out the game taking a different approach, and exploring a different character’s romance- I’m dedicating a significant amount of time just to get a handful of scenes over the course of the entire game that focus on an emotional connection for my character. If replaying the game with a different oc meant that I could explore their friend dynamics differently as well? Heck yeah. But as it stands, it just feels like you pick your romance option and then have to stand awkwardly while you’re surrounded by acquaintances who want to bang you.

[foxzcomics]

DSMP Sanders Sides AU?

This is an AU me and my friend came up with (they don’t have a tumblr, if they do get one I’ll tag them), this is very much a Work in progress (W.I.P), but we’ve had some fun with it. The basic premise is that every member of the SMP has their own sides. It’s a known fact, so it’s not weird to see someone talking to themself. People can’t see each other's sides, you can only see your own, (Tommy can’t see Ranboo’s sides, but Ranboo can see his own sides) (I hope that makes sense) I won’t go too in depth in this post, just a basic overview of what me and my friend came up with. We haven’t done all the characters in the SMP, these are all the ones we’ve done so far.

The characters we have done and their sides are under the cut.

Starting off with Tommy sides, we have: Tommy has two Chaos sides, Disk Innit, and Patriot Innit. Disk Innit embodies mostly harmless fun, mainly when Tommy started the drug van with Wilbur, the cartel, and silly money making schemes that tend to involve drug dealers. Disk Innit doesn’t want to hurt anyone, he just wants to annoy them or make them laugh. Patriot Innit is a different story. He causes problems on purpose, and likes to cause others issues. Patriot Innit is the one who gets into the wars and conflicts, and even starts them. However, he is very loyal, and will fight for what he cares for till the very end. Loud Innit is the embodiment of just how much Tommy screams and yells, and other such things. He embodies the need for attention, for people to see Tommy and acknowledge him. He hates being ignored, and people disagreeing with him. He’s known to buddy up with both chaos sides a lot. Clingy Innit is well, Tommy’s clingy side. He’s a very shy side, and doesn’t fully interact as much. He’s the one who calls others clingy, and when people call him out for being clingy, Clingy Innit will back off fast (mostly replaced with a chaos side or Loud Innit). Clingy Innit hates the idea of losing those he cares for, and has strong opinions about everyone. They buddy up with Loud Innit sometimes when they’re feeling brave, which isn’t often. Finally, we have Exile Innit. This is the side that deals with most of Tommy’s trauma. He’s the fight or flight, the one who eats the gapples when he feels the slightest bit of danger, the panic from an unexpected noise. He’s the opposite of Loud Innit, preferring to slink away and keep safe rather than be seen or heard in fear of being hurt again. He rarely works with the other sides, preferring to stay secluded.

Then we have Awesamdude. His sides are: Dad, the one who cares a lot about any of the children on the server, mostly Tommy. He worries about Tommy constantly, and is very protective over him and the other children. He is stubborn and refuses to give up on those he cares for. Warden, the one who runs the prison. He’s strict, uncaring, and his top priority is the prison and making sure Dream doesn’t escape. He does care about the others, but they're not his top priority. Warden doesn’t get along with the other sides, he wants to, but he puts his job first. So he’ll listen to the other sides when he can, as long as it doesn’t hinder his work. He and Dad have a rocky relationship, Dad thinks he could care more, Warden thinks Dad cares too much about the others. Then he has Valentine. Valentine cares deeply for Ponk, and wants to save him from the egg, and to spend as much time as he can with Ponk. Valentine and Dad get along, but Valentine and Warden have a horrible relationship, and have even gotten into physical fights with each other. Sam has a hard time with his sides, as they never seem to get along, and it makes things much harder than it has to be.

Badboyhalo’s sides are: Wholesomeboyhalo, a kind hearted and sweet demon. He just wants to make sure everything is kid friendly and doesn’t like conflict that much. He cares deeply for his friends as well. Wholesomeboyhalo represents just the overall vibe that BBH wants to keep around himself, where people are happy and don’t make crude or mean jokes. He’s happy most of the time, and a joy to be around. Annoyedboyhalo is the side for whenever BBH gets annoyed about anything. He’s quick to call people out and not afraid to yell. He and Wholesomeboyhalo are friends, as annoyedboyhalo wants to keep wholesome happy, and mostly shows up whenever someone curses or is crude. He’s also very petty, and almost constantly stressed out. He needs sleep. LANGUAGEboyhalo wasn’t originally a side. He was kind of the fusion of Wholesome and Annoyed, and with it being common for them to work at the same time when yelling at anyone who makes an adult joke or says any curse words, LANGUAGE just, ended up popping into existence to fill the role. LANGUAGEboyhalo shows up whenever someone curses or says anything suggestive. He gets along with Wholesomeboyhalo and Annoyedboyhalo, though he doesn’t like Tommy. Piningboyhalo came around when they met Skeppy, mainly because of how Skeppy and Bad’s lives are intertwined. He cares deeply for Skeppy and is very protective as well. He’s also been nicknamed ‘clingyboyhalo’ and ‘jealousboyhalo’, and has given up on fighting the nicknames. He’s willing to do anything to keep Skeppy safe. Anything. Dadboyhalo is a combination of when Wholesome and LANGUAGE have influence. He isn’t an actual side, but is distinct enough to have the nickname. Typically ‘shows up’ when Sapnap is around. T̹̅-̱͍̠̼̎͐̈̈́_̧̤̟́̿̚ ̧̧͈̥̬̏̈͊̐͘5̣̪̰̇̿͞!̭͛ ͔͖̺̳̓̅̿͡ ̛̹͇͒̍͟_̳̣̝̩͙̈́͆̒̑̒ 

We also have Skeppy’s: Clingy is very attached to all of Skeppy’s friends, and willing to fight for them to the death. He’s the one who is connected to BBH’s life, and the one who gets jealous over things. He doesn’t like even the idea of losing the people he cares for. Chaos, also known as Chaos in Control, or Let’s Cause Problems on Purpose, is Skeppy’s chaotic side. He likes to crack jokes, make pranks, and in general be absolutely feral. He and clingy sometimes butt heads, as his antics get’s Bad angry, and that makes Clingy sad. Flirt is an interesting side. Flirt only flirts with BBH, which is odd, because there are no sides that have only one purpose. Flirt likes to hang out with Chaos, when they team up it typically ends in an angry BBH, but Flirt seems to get distant after that. Skeppy and the others don’t really like to talk with flirt often. No one asks about the side. _͚̦͕̑́͂7̪̼́̎͑ͅ-̡̨̗̥̔̓̓͡ ͔̤̼͊̀̉̓͢3͈̺͓̞̇͐͐̾g̡̘̏͆͒ͅ_̨̹̼̙̓̈́̄̎

[thal-fox]

Criticism and hate online usually doesn't bother me. I got a hard shell the wrong way in an awful industry, where people threatened to punch me in person and men spent hours sending me detailed awful threats of a certain kind. Attempted doxxings, transphobic hate... the works.

And it broke me, more than once. I left that industry after several years, finally in the therapy I'd badly needed since I could first talk.

More recently, online hate didn't bother me. I only share what I want to, and I only say what I mean. If someone takes issue with my words, then if it's a viewpoint I've overlooked or I've mistepped, I listen and learn. But if it's someone being hateful over nothing, I don't really care. I am never mean, or vindictive, or snappy because... there's no point in letting trolls anger me, and toxic people don't deserve a seconds thought. I've never been a mean person. Why would I be?

But I didn't factor in being criticised for something I haven't said. For things I haven't done. For things said in sarcastic context amongst friends, that even out of context still don't say anything I don't mean. (That Luke is not a kid =/= he shouldn't be treated as one. He should be treated as a kid, that is my opinion. I have made that distinction countless times, along with my assertion that I do not hate on or harass or censor those with 'problematic' adult ships. It's fucking fiction anyway, but even so - I did not say what they have decided I did).

It's gaslighting. It's them pointing at words I have said and them saying my words hold a different meaning. It's them pointing at me venting about antis cancelling SFW artists and them stating I have created NSFW work featuring a child character. It's them pointing at a channel I created (demon x demon) and them saying I have therefore created content for that channel.

Sure, it's lies. But it's more than that, it is gaslighting. It is holding up the truth while at the same time insisting it says otherwise.

The other people in my past who have gaslit me were my abusers. And the gaslighting was the beginning of a nightmare that ended in broken consent, living in fear, and being permanently disabled.

I'd seen antis attack artists for fictional adult ships before, and could see the parallel many pointed out with witch hunting. "Burn the witch!" they cry, but with a thousand other metaphors for painful death, hounding their victims out of employment, a performance of remorse only ever shown when they actually get their way and a person loses their life.

But just recently, I was asked about a character in OM and whether I thought there was merit to a theory they had undergone religious trauma. It is a question I sidestepped, for two reasons. One, bringing religion into fandom is a recipe for disaster.

And two, I underwent religious trauma. It is intertwined with the early to mid to teen severe childhood trauma I survived.

I know what it is to be told I am a sinner. To feel that my soul is beyond redemption unless I submit to men in authority. I understand all too damn well what it is to stamp down my own sexuality and gender long after religion was escaped, because those scars go so fucking deep.

I know the fear of being met with those who believe so fervently in their moral superiority, that only their lives have value, only their choices are moral, and that only they have the right to dictate whether others get to live in peace or be subject to slurs, eternal punishment, death.

~

I've had multiple breakdowns in my lifetime. Dissociative disorders and cPTSD be like that. This was not a breakdown. But only because I have been in therapy, and still am in therapy, and have and am and will be forever on meds.

For all the shit I've been through, I consider myself lucky. A bad spiral for me today, would have been another attempt in the past. I've done some damn hard work but if my friend hadn't paid for my therapy, if my dog hadn't been there that one time, if if if...

I am lucky.

A bunch of twenty-something supposed adults decided to circulate screenshots of my private server showing my own words, but attached their own meanings.

Without ever speaking to me, they gaslit me in front of people who for whatever reason, obeyed their words rather than think for themselves.

As a SFW blog I blocked and will block anyone who writes or endorses messages of threat or death, as well as any words that can trigger people.

This was held up as an admission of guilt, rather than a survivor of abuse seeking to protect themself from yet more abusers.

~

To those who did this, and who think an excuse of "but I didn't say-" "I wasn't the one who-", you all did it. You added to a situation in which threats were made, lies were spread, and you saw the story grow and not once did any of you say to stop adding to the lies, to stop putting in the wishes for my death, to cease reblogging the hate and harassment and gaslighting, to put an end to taking screenshots of my blog to share with people I have blocked for their support of abuse.

You are all complicit. Not only in the harm done to me, but in the harm done to other vulnerable people on my server, who I have done my utmost to try and protect.

You gaslit me, just as my abusers did. You condemned me by those lies, just as those who caused me religious trauma did. You broke the privacy of a private server, and as a result CSA survivors left because they no longer felt safe because of YOU.

You plastered vile triggering words attached to my username, with only the most grudging apology to the one CSA survivor who asked you to stop.

And you laughed about how you should rewrite my content so you could still fucking use it, and claim I ever said my server was small or public. Even over these little things, still you gaslit.

~

My blog is about a fucking mobile game.

Get help for your abusive behaviours before you hurt even more people. This has cost me blood and scars and I don't expect you to care, because you are walking in the footsteps of those who did far, far worse to me.

I sincerely hope you never have to suffer a fraction of what I have been through, but not as much as I wish you'd stop harming survivors of CSA, and survivors of any sexual trauma online.

I'm gonna go back to writing about made up demons now.

~

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #08

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [AO3]

** TW/suicide of family member implied (it is marked ahead with ((text)) so you know what to skip) ~POV shift Mori~ In my old life I had spent 4 or so years as a historical reenactor for the mid 1700's through early 1800's on my weekends. My group mainly acted as pirates/privateers and sang sea shanties. We had done performances on different ships, but every time we were invited onto a period ship I couldn't make it, so I was geeking out when I saw the ship we'd be taking to Sindria. I prayed it didn't show on my face. Sure it was exciting for an other world's nerd like me to get to see a ship like this in use, but to everyone else it was a normal ship. The ship had two masts -both square rigged with a fore and aft sail at the back for better steering. Considering the reputation for the waters around Sindria I expected a bigger three mast ship for strength, but who was I to judge?

With only two masts, this ship probably only needed a crew of about nine people to allow for different shifts. It didn't look like it had room for many passengers. No doubt, Sinbad didn't expect to be bringing four extra people back with him. I was in full on research mode by the time I got on the ship, and I tired my best to not stand out or get in the way. Getting to look up at the rigging from on the deck was an experience. After everyone was settled I'd definitely make a point to look around more. I might even take one of the scrolls out and try drawing the deck of the ship since I never got around to drawing that gorgeous room in the hotel. I considered myself lucky that no one tried to talk to me until the rooms were being divided out -I had been hyperfixating so I might not have even noticed if they did.

Studying the ship could only boost me for so long. About 15 minutes before we left the port I could no longer ignore that my head was throbbing from exhaustion. This headache was undeniably becoming a migraine if it wasn't one already. I decided that sleep was the next thing on my agenda. Luckily, I made that decision around the same time the rooms were being divided out. I had figured I'd end up in the same room as Alibaba, Aladdin and Morgiana, but Alibaba was put in the same room as Ja'far and Masrur. Everyone put their bags down, and headed back on deck except me. I sat on my bed with my head in my hands as I started to let myself fully calm down. In the quiet it hit me just how much I had been using working on the scrolls as a way to avoid thinking about my guilt and lost home. I'd have to find time when no one else was in the room to work through these feelings. There was no way I could keep it bottled up until we reached Sindria. "Excuse me, Miss Mori?" Aladdin had re-entered the room and closed the door. We might not have been formally introduced but he was told who I was. "What is it?" I lifted my head to look at him, and tried to keep my expression positive. I felt the waves rising. A Magi was talking to a Prophet in private; something was bound to happen. The walls of the ship creaked, and I heard steps and the floor boards creak in the hallway. The wave got a little bigger. Silence hung in the air as the boy just stood there. Instead of trying to guess what he wanted I waited. His hands tightened around his staff. Aladdin looked nervous as he confronted me. "I know you say you've read Fate, but I don't think Fate is something written in stone. It's something that everyone makes together. It can always change." The hallway floor creaked behind the Magi again. The wave was getting bigger. Someone was definitely listening in, and there was only one King that was a chronic eavesdropper.

"I agree," I said bluntly. I wanted Sinbad to hear my answer. Ten years ago, he came to the conclusion that Fate was something already written as a way to cope with his guilt and trauma, and he thought he was 'the chosen one' for being able to read ahead through the waves, but he was wrong on both accounts. "You do?” Aladdin was surprised. It must sound weird coming from someone who read Fate. "I've read more than one Fate for this world, so I know there is no one true path." The manga, anime and OVAs were a little different after all. "And if Fate couldn't be changed then I couldn't be here." I turned so I was sitting facing him. "You see, I wasn't in any of the Fate I read. I wasn't even in this world until five days ago." The magi took a few steps towards me with wide eyes. Aladdin had felt very alone for not being from this world -now he would know he wasn't the only one. It wasn't a reveal that caused problems on its own when Aladdin explained in the original so I didn't see an issue in letting Sinbad overhear about me either- I had already implied as much the previous day. I felt the need to elaborated. "Everything I do changes the Fate I read because I wasn't here. For example, only one of the Fates I read showed the conversation where you all found out about the Kou Fleet. Remember how I yelled at Alibaba? If I didn't convince him to leave then King Sinbad would have knocked him out, and Alibaba would be kept asleep with medicine for this whole trip. Since I was there this time, I was able to change that." "Oh!" He brightened up a bit. "I much prefer things this way." "I agree. Like this it will be much easier for him to heal." I looked down at my intertwined hands. "I have no idea how this will change the Fate I read though." Aladdin hummed a question mark, but he didn't say or ask anything directly. I answered the obvious question to my words, "I can't read a Fate that I'm a part of, so now that I'm here I can't read how my actions are changing Fate. Eventually, the Fate I did read will become useless, and I have no idea if I'm changing it for the better." It was only as I said it that I remembered that Sinbad was listening. I had basically just told him that my usefulness as his Prophet would have a definite expiration date. All I had wanted was to let Aladdin know that he might not be able to rely on me for everything. I definitely wasn't thinking clearly. Aladdin cut into my thoughts. "Is that why the Rukh are so active around you? Because you weren't originally a part of the Flow of Fate?" "Probably." I didn't know what else to say. I knew I had to be making distinctive waves in the Rukh just by being here, let alone with all of my changes. "Miss Mori, where are you from?" I hummed in amusement at that. "I'm from much farther away than you or your parents-if you can believe it." I was from the same world as the person who wrote the original Fate of this world. There was no way I could tell anyone that. He was shocked again. It was written all over his face that he was questioning if I was really from a dimension farther away than Alma Torran. Aladdin gripped the flute that he always wore. "Then... Are you the person he didn't recognize?" "He?" Which 'he' -oh. I lowered my voice. "Ugo?" I put one finger over my lips and looked at the door. Sinbad has to remain ignorant about the Sacred Palace; he's too self-absorbed. Aladdin looked confused at my change in volume. He followed my gaze to the door and back then nodded. He didn't look all that surprised that I knew about Ugo. I kept my voice low. "Aladdin, let's talk more about this some other time. The walls have ears on such a small ship. And I'm exhausted." "Okay. Rest well, Miss Mori." Aladdin spoke at normal volume. I heard a scramble in the hallway, the magi left, and I put my glasses in the top of my bag for safe keeping. I could hear Aladdin through the wall. "Oh! Mr. Sinbad, Mr. Ja'far, did you want to check on Miss Mori too?” "Uh, yes. How is she doing?” Was King Sinbad's response. I could hear the nerves he was trying to

cover up. "Real smooth there, Sin." I mumbled as I finally drifted into unconsciousness. --- I was a young man of 20 some years. I had started a family. We didn't have enough money for food. I ended up taking a risky job because I knew it would pay better. ... No. I'm a six year old girl? I don't remember if I had parents, but I remember going to visit this old dog every day. ... If life was hard, and I had nothing to loose then there was no reason not to bet everything I had on one last round. How could I return to my family without money? The last time I saw my son he was three. Would he even remember me? ... Ya know, when you grow up with someone and everyone else can see your chemistry you'd think it would be obvious that we'd marry when we grew up, but she met someone else. ... I knew things were bad, but I never even considered that my neighbor was stealing from me when I was at work. Bastard stabbed me with my own kitchen knife when I caught him. --- I wasn't myself in my dreams. Every time I woke I had to ground myself and remember where and when I was. Rereading the scrolls I had made helped. Just how many Rukh had merged with me, and why? I had no connections to any of those spirits while they were alive. Was it just because ghosts like me? I wrote down every dream I had; their lives might have been over, but they were a part of me now. I was too exhausted to go on deck, and I could feel that there were still more lives inside of me that I had to get aquatinted with. When I wasn't sleeping, I was working on scrolls again since I at least had enough energy to write and draw. My breathing was getting difficult, and I was struggling with temperature regulation. I wasn't okay enough to tell if it was my body struggling with the changes in my magoi, like when Sinbad took in all the Rukh after the Fall of First Sindria, or if I was just sick. After making sure I could still use magoi manipulation I decided that it was probably the later. I mainly left that room for food, and I waited until almost everyone was done before going. I avoided talking to others too. If I was sick I needed to minimize my contact with others. Alibaba seemed to be in a similar state to me. We both found that staying near each other when around the others made them less likely to approach us with the depressing cloud that hung over us.

Those that did see me could obviously tell I was unwell. From their words it seemed like they were assuming I was just mourning -they were only half wrong. It gave me an easy excuse to leave, so I never corrected them. I did feel bad for worrying everyone. The whole situation sucked. I wanted to cry. I had been in lock down back home because of Covid-19 for 8 months as an at risk person (it's still Oct 2020 in this story). I was literally in a fantasy anime world now. I wasn't given a better immune system, but my boobs didn't need a bra anymore??? WTF?? If the current arbiter of Fate was me writing fanfiction, then they had a lot of explaining to do. ... Who was I kidding? I knew why I would write something like this. I wanted to see more stories about people like me -someone with my disabilities and life experiences- get to be someone "valued" even if they couldn't be on the front lines. My migraine wouldn't go away, and it wasn't the only part of me in pain. I think I got palpitations a few times -breathing was even worse during those episodes. If I hadn't had health problems growing up I probably would have been panicking. I knew it was stupid to not tell anyone what was going on with me. But would anyone even be able help me on a ship? Telling them would just make them worry more than they already were. Aladdin and Morgiana could tell something more was wrong with me; I couldn't fully hide from them while sleeping in the same room. They must have let the others know since they gave me some pain killers at some point. It tasted awful. I'm honestly not sure how affective it was, but it did knock me out. ((Skip to the next paragraph to avoid the trigger)) At least I was left alone most of the time. I had no choice but to sit with my thoughts about Balbadd. I grew up mourning. The blood on my hands might not be the same as losing most of my loved ones back home, but it was damn similar to when I was in high school thinking "if only one of us had answered the phone that day." The Balbadd revolt would have been much worse if I wasn't there. And even if I had said something sooner there was little that could be done to actually stop Al Thamen when they had their hands so deep in that country. Even with Sinbad there to sway Fate, Al Thamen would still find a way to spill blood. Even if I told Alibaba days in advance and he tried to talk to Cassim about it, Cassim wanted nothing to do with Sinbad, so any help that came from him would be refused. Cassim was twisted around Issnan's fingers and out for blood. I did the best I could. My actions did save some people. I'd have to take solace in that. --- I woke up to something wrapped around me, almost like I was tied down. I couldn't move my legs. I gave up trying to untangle my skirt and covers from me, and just pulled the skirt out from under the cloth belt -kicking the whole mass off like a cocoon. I had put my underwear on underneath and I still had the tunic on so I wasn't left totally uncovered. Star light shown in from the window. I had slept through another day. I couldn't remember my dream. Maybe I had finally returned to having my own dreams. The other beds in the room were occupied. My head was still swimming. I felt trapped. I needed something. I heard the waves outside, and felt the waves of Fate washing over me. Their sounds called to me. Back home I had used the sounds of waves to meditate and stim regularly. I had been hearing them all this time, but I wanted to see them. I didn't bother to slip on my flip-flops as I made my way to the door, didn't even think about grabbing my glasses until I was already on deck. It had been so dark below that I couldn't see anyway, and didn't realize I wasn't wearing them. The wave of Fate I had been following lead me farther into the space. When I hit it's end, the adrenaline that had got me that far died out. The night air hit my legs and I shivered. It was colder than it was at night in Balbadd. I thought we were heading south. Did I still have a fever? The cold reminded me that I really should have put on

my shorts or something before coming out here. The tunic just barely covered me. My vision was going grey scale. This was bad. Really bad. I recognized this feeling. I was about to pass out from not being able to breathe right. I used to have fainting spells as a kid because of my weak raspatory system and needed to carry smelling salts for a few years. The last time it happened was about five years ago -I had been really sick. My head was throbbing; my heart was pounding. Guess I was sicker than I thought. I needed to focus on breathing and getting to the ground. I stumbled to the bowsprit (the pole that sticks out the front of the ship) as support. I needed to get to the ground safely before I collapsed. I'd gotten a concussion once because I didn't get down before the black out hit. A wave crashed into me from behind. If I hadn't been putting all my weight on that wooden shaft I would have been pushed over even though it wasn't a physical wave. What in the world was behind me that would cause such a wave? I removed one arm to look back as my knees started to give out. There was definitely someone there. Their color balance didn't match anything I could remember, but they were really familiar. Without my glasses I couldn't really tell anything -especially since everything was becoming different shades of black. And I already had bad night vision. The light was fading. Shapes were getting harder to discern. Even though I was breathing deeper I hadn't managed to counter the fainting spell. I was going down. I definitely fell, but it didn't feel like I fell for long enough to hit the ground. The feeling across my back was really familiar. Someone had caught me.

Sometimes I was able to stay conscious when I fainted. It was kinda like ending up in sleep paralysis but with a -20 to all sensory inputs. Seemed like this was one of those times. I couldn't hear what they were saying or see them. It was like my head was deep under water. There was a pressure on my forehead. Were they checking my temperature? When someone faints you're supposed to lay them on the ground and position them so they can breath easier. This person didn't take first aid classes or forgot or something because I was being lifted upwards instead of laid down. It was really warm and comfy though. I liked this feeling. What was it? Safe? Was that it? I hadn't felt actually safe in a long time. I certainly didn't feel safe in that house back home even after everything was over. Maybe it was the feeling of warmth and safety. Maybe it was the way the waves were moving. Maybe it was the numbness that comes with blacking out. But whatever it was had stopped the pain. With the pain gone I calmed the rest of the way. I felt my spine straighten out onto a soft surface. The warmth faded even though something was now covering my legs. I was in a bed. The cold was back without a source of warmth to leech from. I definitely had a fever if I was this cold. Damnit. I grew up with all sorts of chronic health conditions and have always gotten sick easily. Even though I was now in an anime world, I was still me. Was I going to die in this world from some common illness that was already cured back home? We might not have had a lot of money back home but I was lucky enough to get a job with usable health insurance that let me work from home during a pandemic. I could at least get medicine every time I got a normal illness. I was finally able to afford to get and keep an inhaler. Not that any of that was of use to me now. My motor functions were returning. I rolled to the side and curled into the fetal position. I had lost everything. No home. No friends or family. Who would want to look after a stranger with nothing to give back? I was doing what I could to seem worthy of the main cast, but how long would that last? The story would reach its end in five years. What would I do after that? What was the point of all of the savings I had managed to make back home if I was going to be Isekaied? I had been the main bread winner and now my family couldn't even use my savings because I hadn't left a body behind as proof that I had died. All of the thoughts and feelings I was still running from were flooding through me. I couldn't even distract myself with writing scrolls or anything. This was probably for the best. Pushing things away for much longer would be unhealthy. And if I couldn't let myself feel miserable when I was sick and alone, then when could I? I let the tears fall. I hadn't been a loud crier since I was a kid, so I was caught off guard when I could hear my own sobs. I didn't have it in me to hide any more. The bed I was on creaked but I hadn't moved. There was a new weight on the mattress.

I wasn't alone.

The concept that someone was checking on me hurt harder. I didn't grow up in a healthy environment, so now feel immense guilt when someone shows me genuine kindness. But I am also aware and recovered enough to know I deserve kindness, so the guilt always paired with an equal amount or more of relief. I felt a hand stroke my hair. They wanted to comfort me. And I wanted comfort. The waves washing over me encouraged me seek out more. I used what little strength I had to pull myself against them. Having undeniable proof that I wasn't alone and that someone cares was overwhelming. The relief made me cry harder. I'd have to thank them later. But for the time being I'd pour out as much emotion as they'd let me.

[allsassnoclass]

Are you taking prompts? I’m sending one anyways : “All I wanted was for you to be happy.” with whoever you want but I mean. we both know who we’re thinking of 👀

“we both know who we’re thinking of” as;ldfja fair enough

mashton: “All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

It has been four months since the breakup, and it still feels as fresh as it did when Ashton finally said those fateful words.

Everything feels weird, because they were friends first, and now they're supposed to go back to that, but Michael doesn't know how.  How is he supposed to get over someone who is so intertwined in his life that he sees him nearly every day?  Even their moments apart are filled with reminders of him, from their albums in his phone to the pictures on his wall.  Ashton has always seemed larger than life, but it’s one thing to say that and another to have to figure out how to live with his presence but without him.

He's been doing a pretty good job of pretending that the banter comes naturally again and that he doesn't mind the extra time spent hanging out together as a band, but everything feels stiff and inauthentic when he just wants to wrap Ashton in his arms and never let go.

It's been weird living on his own, too.  Ashton moved out immediately after he ended it, and now the house feels too big by himself.  He's been considering selling it and seeing if one of the others will take him in, but it feels pointless with tour starting again soon.  The band itself has been in a stagnant creative period, but things are finally moving.  Michael just wishes he didn't feel like his feet are glued to the pavement while everyone progresses around him.

Besides, Luke thinks that Michael is the one who broke up with Ashton, and Michael has steadfastly been avoiding talking about this with Calum.  Michael’s been trying so hard to not make either of them feel like they have to choose between them.

That's the issue with all of their friends overlapping, too.  Ashton got to pour his heart out to the others, and Michael gave him the space to do so and mostly internalized his own feelings.

It's funny: typically the roles are reversed.  Michael has been learning how to open up and tell people what's wrong with him.  When he's in a bad headspace, it overflows out of him, unignorable and far too exposing, and he’s been working with his therapist to figure out how to regulate and manage that in a healthier way without bottling things inside.  Ashton is the one who keeps his emotions secret until he explodes.

Ashton seems to be doing fine now, though.  Michael knows what he looks like when he isn’t, and he knows what he looks like when he’s faking.

As such, he’s a little surprised when he hears the doorbell one afternoon and opens the door to find Ashton standing there awkwardly.

Ashton has never rung the bell before.  This used to be his house, so he would just walk right in, and he hasn’t been over since he moved out.

“Ash,” Michael says, then tries not to cringe when he realizes how weird the nickname tastes in his mouth.  Nicknames aren’t reserved for couples by any means, but it still feels too familiar for a situation that Michael doesn’t have any sort of guidebook for.

“Hey,” Ashton says, arms hanging limply at his sides.  “I think we should talk.”

They already broke up.  There can’t be much else to say, but Michael feels a distinct pit of dread forming in his gut while resignation balloons above it.  This must’ve been how Ashton felt when their roles were reversed the last time, except Michael never planned on actually ending things and he has no clue what Ashton could possibly be looking for now.

He steps aside and lets Ashton come in by himself.  Michael watches him toe off his shoes, setting them precisely in his spot by the door.  The entry and the kitchen were always the only places that Ashton ever cared about neatness.  Throughout the rest of the house, Michael would always be the first one to suggest that things had gotten bad enough for them to need to tidy.

“Um, did you want to sit down?”

Ashton nods once, a sharp movement, and Michael leads them to the living room.  Ashton’s armchair still sits next to the couch, even though Michael hasn’t touched it since.  Ashton sinks into it gingerly.  Michael grabs one of the throw pillows from the couch and hugs it to his chest.

Ashton clears his throat.

“We should… talk?” Michael says once the silence has stretched on for too long.  He wonders briefly if this is how Ashton felt when Michael suggested that they talk four months ago, and whether this restless feeling is what prompted him to speak first.

“Yes.  We should.  We need to figure out how we’re going to handle the tour, because this isn’t working.”

“There is no this, Ashton,” Michael says.  “We broke up, remember?”

We should break up, then, echoes in his head.  There was something definitive about the way Ashton had said it, leaving no room for the arguments that Michael was too tired to make.

“I know,” Ashton says, voice tight.  “But we have to figure out how to live in close quarters again.  We can’t keep being off like this.”

“I’m trying,” Michael snaps, then clutches the pillow tighter to his chest.  He takes a deep breath.  “Sorry.  I’m trying.  Just because you’re doing okay doesn’t mean I am, too.”

There he goes, bleeding his emotions all over the place again.  It was always the worst with Ashton, filters non-existent between them until they suddenly stopped, both of them retreating.  It was like living with a ghost in those weeks before the breakup, both of them haunting the house but not living with each other.  Michael would stay up too late and Ashton would wake up too early, putting them on completely different schedules.  They might as well have been living in two separate places, for how much time they actually spent together.  Even when in the same room, Michael always felt alone, sinking further into his thoughts and farther away from where Ashton was retreating into himself, too.

“I’m not doing okay,” Ashton frowns.  Michael snorts.

“You seem pretty fine to me.”

“You haven’t been able to look at me long enough to tell.”

Michael glances at him.  It’s just a glance, and it proves Ashton’s point entirely.  Michael has spent four months around Ashton without properly looking at him.  When he makes himself look properly, Ashton’s shoulders are slumped.  His eyes are tired, slight rings around them, and they lack the light that is ever-present on his good days.

Michael wants to reach over and touch him, to pull him into his arms and hold him close until their heartbeats line up.  He wants to feel at home again.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Michael says eventually.  “You’re the one who said we should break up.  If you have an idea to help me get over you, then by all means, let me hear it.”

Ashton flinches, just slightly.  Michael knew he would, but there’s no satisfaction in the way his words hurt.  He wishes there was, but the only thing worse than how he’s feeling is the thought that Ashton could be feeling something similar.

“That was the right choice,” Ashton says, and it hurts like a knife to the heart.  “I asked if you were happy, and you said no.  All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

“Great job with that,” Michael laughs bitterly.  “I’m ecstatic, can’t you tell?”

“What was I supposed to do?  If we stayed the same, things would’ve gotten worse, not better.”

“So we sit down and reevaluate!  You don’t just drop me.”

“You said you wanted to talk, then you said you weren’t happy.  You didn’t fight me at all when I said we should break up.  It didn’t seem like I was the one dropping you.”

“Ashton, I had bought a ring.”

Michael feels the air leave the room.  He still can’t look at Ashton, tucking his knees against his chest and squishing the pillow more.  He feels completely split open, but no stitches can fix this.  Michael doesn’t know if anything can.

“I still--I still have the ring,” he says softly.  “I thought we were in it for the long run.  I was waiting for the right time, but then we both hit separate ruts.  I said we should talk so we could actually figure out what each of us needed.  If that was space, we could take a break and come back later.  But I couldn’t--neither of us could properly function, let alone help each other.  It was like we weren’t even speaking the same language.  When you asked me if I was happy, I told you the truth.  I wasn’t.  Neither of us were.  I didn’t want to break up, though.”

“Why didn’t you say any of this?” Ashton asks eventually.  Michael shrugs.

“You sounded so sure of yourself, and I’ve never been able to change your mind before.  I was already exhausted.  I didn’t know how to fight you on it.  I should’ve, but…”

Michael shrugs again.  Not a day has gone by where he hasn’t wondered how things could’ve been different if he had said no, I don’t want to break up.  I’m not letting you go just because we both feel crappy right now.

“Michael…”

The rest of the sentence never comes.  Michael blinks back some tears and still refuses to make eye contact.  Whatever emotions may be displayed on Ashton’s face will break him, and he’s trying to maintain any semblance of dignity that he can.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ashton says eventually.  His voice cracks halfway through, and Michael’s vision blurs at the sound, tears overflowing finally.

“Me neither.”

Ashton’s breath shutters on his next inhale.  Michael wants to go to him and wipe those tears away, but he can’t.  They decided four months ago to not be in love anymore, and he can’t comfort Ashton like that without bleeding love all over the place.

“I’m not doing better,” Ashton admits.  “If we got back together now, I don’t think it would be different, but I’m still so fucking in love with you, Michael, and I’ll--maybe we can--maybe if we each figure out shit out, we can come back together.  Maybe we can do it right.”

Michael swallows.

“I can’t go through this again,” he says.  “I love you too, obviously I do, but if we get back together just to break up again it’ll break me.”

“I know,” Ashton says.  “Me too.  But what if we don’t let it get to that point again?  We’ll go to couples therapy, or something.  We’ll figure out how to help each other and learn how to communicate.  I’ve been miserable, Michael.  While you weren’t looking at me, I could see how much you were hurting, too.  If we can fix this, why don’t we?”

“Do you want to?” Michael asks.  “You won’t flake on me, right?”

“Michael, no,” Ashton says.  “I just want to see you happy.”

Ashton is already reaching for him by the time Michael releases his hold on the pillow, and falling into his arms feels more right than anything since the breakup has.  They’re not back together yet, and they have some work to do to get there, but for the first time in a long time, Michael has hope that they’ll both find their happiness again.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Olfaction”

Intergalactic Journal of Behavior And Biology

All the species that we know of have a generally similar set of senses including, some form of sight, and some form of hearing….. Though these depend heavily on the species and cover a wide range of abilities, for the purpose of this paper. Despite these differences in this area, all species are known to have  a general sensory distinction to, touch including pressure and pain, as well as vestibular and proprioceptive senses, though those vary widely and by degrees from species to species. As far as we understand, humans tend to have the most developed set of senses, and maintain the highest number and the most sensitive set of senses, of which we know. They do, however, lack the ability to see into specie of light ranges, and cannot detect radio frequencies. However, even after this consideration, we find that what they lack in these areas is made up for in other sensory areas.

For instance, there is a sense that humans are known to have, that cannot be found in any other species. Of course we understand that any species, consumer in nature, that requires the intake of food into their body to survive, as having a sense of taste however rudimentary it may be. In fact humans themselves can only taste about five tastes including sour, bitter, sweet, salty and umami however, the human sense of taste is closely intertwined with their olfactory sense which is estimated to be able to detect at least 1 trillion different scents . 

For those of you who are unaware of this sense, humans have receptors inside their nose that allows them to detect chemical particles in the air and identify it. This allows them a multitude of advantages including, the detection of dangerous gasses, locating food, and even smelling out the potential health of a mate. Aside from the humans, only one other sentient species is known to possess a sense of smell half as advanced, and that is the Drev.

For many of the reasons mentioned in the previous excerpt, the Galactic Assembly couldn't have known what was going to happen during the first interspecies PR conference held at GA headquarters on the Rundi homeworld. 

i t was late in the evening when the delegations started to arrive. The Rundi delegation, of course, had been the first to arrive as they were cursed with the inability to be anything other than excessively early. The Vrul delegation and the Tesraki delegation arrived exactly on time one for the reason of logic, if they were supposed to be there at such a time than they would be, and the other for knowing that time was money, and it paid to show up at the correct time and to leave at the correct time.

The Drev The Gibb delegation arrived a single minute late flustered to the point that Vrul medical officers were put on standby to watch the nervous creatures. Of course no one particularly cared that they were a minute late, but with the Gibb’s nervous disposition leaned them towards hysterics.

Slowly, the rest of the delegations began to drift in.

The Drev came in their own time. The Drev had never seen the importance of showing up on time, or even developed a proper way to measure time on their home planet. Of course they knew how long it generally took to go somewhere, but in their culture things began when they began and ended when they ended, you couldn't exactly schedule a battle.

THe newest delegation, members of the Iota sector, arrived shortly after having been delayed by an issue on one of their ships that needed to be taken care of during landing.

Members of the Iota cluster came form a grouping of three planets around one star. All of them were rather snakelike in shape but with thick stumpy legs towards the back which allowed them to scoot across the floor. Their anatomy tended towards heavy, and so they did not move very fast. Their heads were almost catlike in structure, though they had no fur, and their skin was covered in a layer of viscous slime 

Until this journey, they had never bothered to venture out of their own solar system, despite their clear capabilities to do so, but urging form the GA had forced their hands and, now, they were thousands of lightyears away from home among a congregation of strange creatures. They had done their research before coming reading up on all the species, and examining all the proper cultural behaviors.

Proper etiquette was very important to their species, and they worried greatly about offending anyone with the improper greeting.

They were especially worried about the strange creatures called humans. Though the information on them had been relatively extensive, it had been hard to understand and even harder to put into practice. It seemed that it depended very much on the SPECIFIC human as to the proper way to behave, and that made them very uncomfortable. However, after speaking to the rest of the delegation, they found that most humans tended to be quite understanding, and so were not known to be insulted easily…. Accept when they were. 

As far as improper went the human delegation arrived almost forty five minutes late, though to their credit it was for an acceptable reason. Human clothing etiquette required specific standards of grooming and dressing for events like this, and they had underestimated the amount of time that it took to get ready.

They apologized politely on entering, The human’s famous Fleet Commander, and the President of the United Nations standing at the forefront of that apology. Strangely enough, they brought with them a Drev and a Vrul.

The humans stopped in the main hall looking around at all the strange species and colorful decorations. They were told that some of the lanterns were in ultraviolet, but of course they were unable to see it.

Commander Vir was the first to notice the smell.

Lifting his face to the air he sniffed and walked in a slow circle, “Does anyone else smell that”

In curiosity and confusion, the other humans turned their noses to the air catching the attention of a few of the other delegations as they closed their eyes, and seemed to follow their noses. As far as anyone knew, humans needed their eyes to see and did not have any other extra senses to let them move around, but that wasn’t exactly the problem.

“Something smells good.” one of the humans muttered it’s innards echoing with its emptiness loud enough that a few other delegations were able to hear it, and looked over with confusion and worry.

The president of the Un glanced over, “Try to keep that quiet, General as far as I know no other species has that problem.”

“Sorry ma’am.”

Commander Vir licked his lips, “I mean, he's not wrong….. It smells like…. Bacon or…. Breakfast…. Or or…. Well buttered potatoes….. I can’t really tell.” His stomach gave an involuntary grumble, and he cleared his throat awkwardly glancing over at the UN president, “Sorry.” 

Although, to be fair to him, the others were struggling just as much to fight down their hunger. Though they would never admit it, when they went in to mingle with the crowd, they were really just searching for a buffet table, which had to be here, but was annoyingly absent.

As the evening went on the smell only grew stronger.

At first no one noticed the human’s strange behavior, but after a while it became almost impossible to ignore the internal growling of the hungry humans. Not only that, but as things went on the humans only seemed to grow more feral. The humans thought they were hiding it well, but humans have never been very good at hiding their emotions when hungry, and just like a dog faced with a steak, a human becomes more primal around food….. Not only that, but they also tend to become increasingly aggressive and cranky the longer they are exposed to the idea of food without the ability to eat it.

The humans were becoming increasingly more frustrated that they could not find the source of the smell.

Commander Vir and the UN President were eventually called over by the GA chairwoman, “I would like the two of you to meet the head of the Iota council, they will be joining us in the GA as allies, as we would have hoped.

The humans gave a respectful nod towards the Iota, who in turn reached out one of its hands to the humans in respect having heard that humans generally greeted each other with a handshake. 

Everything was fine up to that point, up until the smell hit them.

You see The strange slime coating the bodies of the Iota was a compound filled with specific types of proteins that, when heated, especially in a large room with many people had a similar smell to the proteins and sugars that humans liked to consume.

All at once the pupils in the human’s eyes dilated wide and their stomachs rumbled loudly enough to be heard by most everyone within a ten foot radius.

The Iota, having been given a good sense of danger, knew something was wrong immediately. They stared, wide eyed, into the humans wide pupils locked onto them like the hunting predators they were. The commander licked his lips quickly wiping saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand.

The other humans had figured it out as well, and the entire room had gone quiet watching the way the humans eyed the newcomers with glints of hunger in their eyes. Another human wiped a trail of drool that had made it onto his chin looking around sheepishly.

“IS everything alright. The chairwoman wondered, worried. She was under the impression that humans were generally good at controlling their predatory urges, but the look in their eyes made them seem like starving animals. The way their bodies leaned in, their shoulders hunched, and their lips parted past their teeth was enough to make the entire congregation nervous.

The two humans quickly composed themselves, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The human’s glittering teeth flashed, and tongues ran across exposed bone. The commander had to wipe his mouth again.

growling about the room had only grown in intensity. A few of the humans had sidled up to members of the iota delegation, nostrils flaring as they sniffed the air. 

One of the humans whined pitifully hand on it’s stomach.

“Damn…. I am so hungry.” The commander muttered under his breath eyes turning towards the nearest member of the iota delegation eyeing him sidelong like a lion eyes a steak. Of course he tried to force his gaze away for reasons of proper etiquette, but his attention was soon drawn again.

One of the humans put a hand to her forehead and swayed.

“Are you alright.” “Yeah, I get dizzy when I'm hungry.” Her eyes dropped to the iota standing next to her, her wide dark eyes glimmering with intense desire.

Another human leaned against the wall hand to his back  overcome by a hunger so painful it made his back ache. 

Stomach growled, and the Commander Vaguely wondered what would happen to their public relations if his delegation was to violently rip one of the creatures apart and consume it for breakfast…. He eventually decided it would probably be a bad idea and barked to call his humans back to him. They came reluctantly looking dejected.

One of the humans looked up at him eyes welling with tears, “So hungry.” She muttered 

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “We’ll get you something to eat, I promise.”

The human delegation left early and in a rush. No one but the humans and their companions were quite sure what had happened, but it was soon advised in the assembly notes that.

In the event that humans interact with species from the Iota cluster, a meal must be provided before or during the proceedings, two meals being preferred both before and after. This rule should be established for the comfort of the human and for the safety of everyone else.

it took almost two cycles longer than expected to establish a peace treaty with the iota clusters, seeing as they wanted a clause in here that protected them from human consumption. 

Humans are especially dangerous when hungry.

[the-blue-fairie]

Why Elsa’s arc in F2 doesn’t work for me (and why it does.)

Yesterday, I got into a conversation with a friend where I tried to articulate why I disagreed with certain writing decisions made in Frozen 2 pertaining to Elsa’s arc. It was tricky for me to articulate because, on paper, Elsa’s arc is pretty solid. There are many good ideas and compelling aspects to Elsa’s arc and I can see why a portion of the fandom likes it so much. Elsa coming into a better understanding of herself is a great concept. Elsa being able to broaden her horizons and create a larger support network is a great concept. Elsa and Anna both coming to terms with Arendelle’s colonialist past is a really great concept. While I might personally have issues with the ending and Elsa staying in the Forest based on the material we were presented in the film, I can’t deny that conceptually, that is compelling.

Conceptually, Elsa’s arc works. My issue is in the finished film’s execution.

Personally, I feel that the plot device of the Voice unnecessarily distances us from Elsa’s emotions. By making the catalyst for Elsa’s emotional journey the Voice, the film distracts audiences from Elsa’s internal journey. Instead of having a song that fully explores Elsa’s conflicting feelings and own personal sense of denial and yearning, we focus on an argument between Elsa and an External Force. 

Yes, the film tries to make connection between the Voice and “a little voice in the back of your own mind,” but it isn’t from Elsa’s own mind. The writers could have written a less convoluted conflict for Elsa by making “the Voice” Elsa’s own personal internal conflict, but they didn’t. Instead of seeing Elsa simply making a decision for herself, we have to watch her be acted upon by an outside force first.

Now, defenders of the Voice plotline will likely say to me, “But, Liza, Elsa wants to follow the Voice. The Voice gives comfort to Elsa, allows her to realize that it’s okay to express feelings that she has already been having!”

And that’s where my frustration with the film’s execution comes into play again. Because the film never gives us a time of self-reflection for Elsa before she starts hearing the Voice. We are told in Into the Unknown that she wants to come into a better understanding of herself independently of the Voice, but we are not shown it. 

What makes this even more frustrating is the deleted moment from the prologue where Elsa asks Iduna about her powers. This little moment (which was already fully animated apparently?) does show that Elsa has this yearning even from childhood, long before the Voice. It actually sets up that Elsa wants to know the source of her powers, which is a major motivation for her actions as the film proceeds. BUT IT’S NOT IN THE MOVIE. THEY CUT IT. It’s like the filmmakers just assumed, well, audiences want to know where Elsa’s powers come from, so obviously audiences will accept that Elsa wants to know too, even though that was never a plot element of the first film, so we don’t have to clearly establish that motivation until Show Yourself an hour into the film.  

The finished film, intentionally or not, distances us from Elsa’s emotional journey. It has an amazing conceptual arc for Elsa that could provide great insight into Elsa’s internality, but, in my opinion, it fails to live up to the potential of that concept. 

Moreover, there are lyrics from Elsa’s songs in F2 that I feel put the focus on Elsa’s “destiny” and her abilities rather than on Elsa herself and her inner feelings: 

“Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? / Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?”

“Every day's a little harder as I feel my power grow...”

Now, partly, I acknowledge that I am speaking from personal preference. I don’t like destiny narratives. I don’t like narratives that hinge on “the reason I was born,” as Elsa puts it in Show Yourself. I don’t like narratives that focus on a character’s birth and make so much about them rooted in their birth instead of who they are as a person - and I feel like Frozen 2 ind of falls victim to that. The film handles itself better than, say, Star Wars - but the awkwardness of certain implications leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And the funny thing is, I think those implications could have been cleared up with just a little bit more time.

I think the film wants to establish that Elsa’s powers were a “gift” from the spirits because it counters Elsa’s desperate line in the first film about them being a “curse.” The film wants to validate Elsa emotionally and I value that.

But at the same time, by going beyond that and stressing the whole “fifth spirit destiny angle” (and again, I love than Jen Lee has gone on record to say that Elsa and Anna are both the fifth spirit, but considering the amount of people I’ve seen who didn’t pick up on that, I’m kinda holding it against the film that it wasn’t made clearer), it takes the focus away from Elsa’s own agency.

Again, I’m not saying that Elsa doesn’t have agency in the film, but that the film’s choices obscure and distract from that agency.

Making Elsa a gift of the spirits as a reward for her mother’s action and as a peace offering for her grandfather’s action takes the focus away from Elsa as a person, as an individual, as a human being. It puts her on a path in life before she is even born, before she even has the capacity to choose.

Now, you might say, “But it all works out in the end! Elsa chooses to take up her destiny.” But that’s the thing. It just happens to work out in the end because the narrative was written that way. What if Elsa wanted to reject her destiny? She had no choice in the matter while she was still in the womb.

But I’m supposed to think it’s all okay because Elsa makes the choice to follow her destiny and the film doesn’t even take the time to explore the ramifications of the destiny angle it establishes.

And that’s frustrating because, as a concept, that might be a really cool and unique take on destiny. We’ve seen heroes and protagonists who have felt burdened by their destiny before, but exploring Elsa’s feelings of validation that come from learning about her destiny after Elsa spending years feeling inferior could be an amazingly fresh take!

But instead, the destiny angle is just sort of... there... Brought up in a couple lines and a couple song lyrics, seeming to have some positive implications and some really negative implications I don’t think the filmmakers were really aware they were imparting... and we don’t get that exploration - even when further exploration of that angle would only enhance the depth of Elsa’s personal journey.

Now, on a conceptual level, there are two distinct and really rewarding questions that emerge from the adventure Elsa goes on in F2. Those questions are, “What can you do for others?” and, “What can you do for yourself?” The film wants to interrogate Arendelle’s colonialist history AND give Elsa a fulfilling arc of self-affirmation - and that’s great! Both of those concepts are great! But, in execution, I feel like the finished film falters by trying to intertwine those two concepts in Elsa’s arc.

I bring this up because what if someone says to me, “But Liza, if Elsa were to hypothetically reject her destiny then the Northuldra and Arendellians would be still be trapped in the Enchanted Forest and then Runeard’s wrong would not be righted, are you arguing for extreme individualism and selfishness?” Which... No. I’m not. Elsa absolutely needs to right the wrongs perpetrated by her grandfather. Elsa absolutely needs to reflect on the ways her grandfather’s actions reverberate into the present day. That’s an amazing message for young audiences. 

But Elsa’s taking responsibility for her grandfather’s actions and finding personal fulfillment are two completely different aspects of her character arc.  

And I feel both concepts are done a disservice by the interpolation of the “destiny” elements and the “focus on magical abilities at the expense of character” elements into the greater plot.

If the film wants to be about coming to terms with the colonialist past and about Elsa finding a greater sense of fulfillment in a new place, why not give the Northuldra more screentime? Why not show more scenes of Elsa bonding more with her mother’s people? Again, there are a few such scenes - but after Elsa and Anna and Olaf head out, the Northuldra barely appear until the end of the film. Why not have them actively take part in their own deliverance? Maybe have Honeymaren and Ryder join the quest, which would allow them to develop further as characters and give Elsa characters to play off of as she makes important decisions about her life. That would make everything more personal - and on top of that, it is ALWAYS a good thing to allow characters of color more screentime and depth. 

Instead, the film focuses more on Elsa’s connection to the spirits - her friendship with Bruni (which is the most developed bond), her fascination with the giants (with whom she also barely interacts) and her respect for the nokk (which is illustrated really well by her graceful bow.) All that is decent, but it ties more into the “mythic” aspects of Elsa’s character than her humanity... and, to be honest, Elsa’s relationship with the spirits comes off as pretty underdeveloped too.

I’ve harped on this before, but what does Elsa have in common with the giants beyond the fact they are both magical? Why does Elsa say, “I feel like I am home,” when arriving at Ahtohallan? Yes, Ahtohallan has a connection to her mother and the Northuldra, but again, I’m frustrated that the film doesn’t explore Elsa’s connection to the Northuldra more through her interactions with the Northuldra.

The filmmakers had the outline of a  deeply personal, internal story for Elsa - but I feel like they didn’t capitalize on the most personal and compelling aspects of their story.

And it just doesn’t work for me. 

But at the same time, I respect and value the ambition of Frozen 2. I respect its thought-provoking concepts. And I can understand why so many people do connect to Elsa’s arc in F2 - because again, Elsa still has agency, it’s just agency that’s obfuscated by the unnecessary convolutedness of the plot and a destiny angle that isn’t really needed for the story the writers are trying to tell and (I would argue) actively hampers it. I don’t want to take anything away from those friends of mine that love Elsa’s arc in F2. Your perspective is beautiful and valid and wonderful. 

But at the same time, I also feel that people who argue something is “off” about Elsa’s arc in F2 come from a valid place as well (at least, the arguments of people who are arguing in good faith - not the people arguing in bad faith).

Everyone’s perspectives on a piece of media are valid. Everyone’s perspectives emerge from their own experiences in life. I’m simply trying to give voice to mine - based on my particular emotional connection to Elsa as a character, my interpretation of Elsa, and my personal distrust of destiny narratives. 

[morganaseren]

8, 13, 19 c:

8) favorite genre to write

Romance, especially of the slow burn variety. :P I enjoy the idea of two people just slowly falling in love, finding all the right ways they fit together, of how they’re able to work through things even on those occasions when they might disagree because they’re that invested in one another. I love when they both realize they’ve become so intertwined with each other that they can’t even consider letting the other person go.

Whether it’s mental or verbal, it’s that italicized “oh” moment that gets me each and every time. Lol.

13) your strengths as an author

Does having a very active imagination count because I think that might be the most valid one for me. Lol.

In all seriousness, I would probably say my attention to detail. I greatly enjoy character-building, and for Niamh, it’s completely necessary because I’m not just finding ways in which she interacts with the world, I’m also writing about how it reacts to her. See, Inquisition is full of canon characters that people either love or hate, but there’s already a sense of familiarity built in with them from player experience. In a sense, there’s already an innate trust there from readers of how those particular characters see the world, so how they slowly get to know a character like Niamh is likely how the audience would come to eventually see her as well.

It’s why I don’t necessarily bother to write every chapter strictly from her point of view. It’s one thing to write Niamh completely losing herself to her power or those creeping self-doubts, but it’s another thing entirely to have another character witness it and see just how fragile those calm facade of hers can be. I find that it’s more impactful that way.

Other than that, I think I’m great with tinkering with things just outside the box when it comes to canon material. Niamh’s already a bit of an oddball because she’s a mage Cousland who was never The Warden but was still later made the Herald/Inquisitor. She has that experience as a veteran of the Fifth Blight, and she even has old connections as a Cousland and to people like Leliana or King Alistair, but it still starts on this journey of having to find herself as a leader, much like with a default Inquisitor.

For me, it’s this constant puzzle game of, “Can I have it make sense without completely breaking everything in canon just to make it work?” The journey in continually solving that question is probably my greatest enjoyment in writing OtSttCA.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.? 

I honestly just have the most chaotic way of outlining. Everything I have for OtSttCA starts on a giant Word document, which I’m continually adding scenes to in no particular order. It could be something I foresee happening in the following chapter, or it might be an event that won’t even take place until the last quarter of the story. I go wherever my creativity just happens to take me to that day. Lol.

When I think of putting together the latest chapter, I’m still writing from that huge outline, but I’m basically just picking and choosing what scenes I feel fit best in terms of pacing and just go from there with properly developing them. That sometimes leads to situations where I find I need to add a scene or two in between in order to help deal with potential timeline issues.

As for keeping track of characters, I admit that I play with multiple perspectives a great deal in OtSttCA (often within the same chapter), but I’m always committed to ensuring that they all sound distinct from one another. Cassandra’s POV should never be mistaken for Sera’s POV for instance, and a lot of that distinction comes from me studying their respective cutscenes. I have a lot of those saved up from Niamh’s canon Inquisition run, so it’s not a huge deal for me to just pull up a video whenever I need them. I study a character’s diction, their personalities, their actions, and pretty much anything else I need in order to help set that scene’s perspective properly, and for the most part, I believe I’m succeeding in having them come across as believable. Lol.

[razberryyum]

The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 10, Part 2 of 2

(spoilers for everything MDZS/Untamed)

[covers MDZS chapters 29, 30 and 48…kinda]

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰+ 🐰+ 🐰🐰+🐰🐰🐰🐰+🐰

Continued from Part 1:

I love this scene from the episode so much because for me it was absolute proof that Lan Zhan had totally fallen for Wei Ying: he actually SMILES because of him...not once, but TWICE...  

...and then the way he says good-bye to Wei Ying just about murdered me with sweetness. Even though he did smile once before, during the lantern raising moment at Cloud Recesses, one can argue that he was just reacting to the picture of the bunny because he loves bunnies; but here, there is no question whatsoever that he is smiling because of Wei Ying. I think it shows that despite maintaining a generally stoic façade in front of Wei Ying, his heart was already captured by him. Personally, I still don’t think he was actually in love Wei Wuxian yet but definitely crushing hard on him.

When I first time watched this scene, I remember being a downright distressed that Wei Ying was missing all of Lan Zhan’s little signals here because he was too busy getting drunk. At the time it felt like an opportunity lost for another lovely WangXian moment, but now I understand that the purpose of this scene really was to give us a glimpse at Lan Zhan’s feelings. That’s another aspect about The Untamed that I appreciate a lot: the fact that we are getting to see Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s love story from Lan Zhan’s point of view. In the novel, the focus was mostly on Wei Ying‘s point of view, which makes sense of course since Wei Wuxian is the main protagonist of the story, but I think by giving us Lan Zhan’s side of the story and allowing us to see in real time what he was experiencing emotionally actually adds to the poignancy of their story because for me it basically reinforces how helpless Lan Zhan was: in terms of falling in love and then eventually in not being able to do anything to save the person he fell in love with. I felt the tragedy of his situation so much more as a result.  

Odds and Ends

My first impression of Nie Mingjue: damn, he looks like a hardass. I immediately felt bad for Nie Huaisang, it’s no wonder he was so afraid of his older brother. Compared to his novel and donghua counterpart, I think he was pretty well-casted. Even though Wang Yizhou had a relatively limited number of scenes, he had a pretty strong presence so that I couldn’t help but pay attention to him whenever he was on-screen. Word is the second online movie might actually be centered on the Nie brothers, which means we might get to see much more of him and Ji Li’s NHS. Although at first I was just a teeny bit disappointed that we might not be getting more of the Yi City boys’ story instead, the more I think about it, the more I actually like the idea of getting more of the Nie brothers’ story because I actually don’t remember if much was said about them in the novel other than just their basic introduction, so I would love to see more of their past and their relationship. I think it’s fascinating that even though on the surface NHS is utterly afraid of his brother, he obviously intensely loves and respects NMJ at the same time considering the lengths he went through to avenge his death. I hope we get to see NHS’s side of the events in the live action, especially during the 16 years between Wei Ying’s death and resurrection when he realized Jin Guangyao’s true nature and guilt, and then started to put his grand revenge plan into motion. I hope this also means we might get to meet the real Mo Xuanyu before he gave up his body and soul to bring Wei Ying back. It would be so damn cool if Xiao Zhan played him as well! If they are indeed constructing these two specials on scenes they’ve already shot but couldn’t fit into the series due to pacing issues, there might very well be a chance of XZ playing Mo Xuanyu. Holy crap, that means we might get to see Xiao Zhan play a FOURTH personification in the show, since young Wei Ying, his Yiling Patriarch and Wei Ying-Mo Xuanyu are already three distinct personalities! Oh my God, I’m getting excited, but I really shouldn’t yet since it’s all just rumors and my own wishful thinking now. Guess all I can do is keep my fingers crossed that that’s the direction they’re heading for the second special.  

By the way, I just have to mention something about the captions on the show: whoever inserted those captions with the characters’ names was clearly on speed or something because they would appear and disappear so damn quickly there was hardly a chance to even read them. I’m surprised I even got Nie Mingjue’s so clearly in the screenshot because usually half the name would be gone before the rest of it had even finished appearing. It’s a minor technical issue but it did bug me at the beginning because I was trying to read the damn names.

Seeing the Twin Prides of Yunmeng actually acting like twins who are completely in sync (giggling at how NHS is reacting to his big bro) just makes my heart feel so heavy now. They will never be like this again.  Makes me want to cry.  

Lan Zhan’s look was interesting though. Whenever I see him watching Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng, I sometimes wonder if he’s slightly jealous of the bond they share or of the fun they’re having. Or maybe it’s neither and he just enjoys watching him laugh and smile. Honestly with Lan Zhan, it might be a combination of all three.

These three gossiping dorks. I love them. They’re just so adorable when they get together; I love their interactions and I wish this wasn’t the beginning of the end for all the fun between them cuz there’s really not much more time left for any shenanigans after this.

I also love that Xue Yang is like cracking up in the foreground there but it’s not even certain if it’s because he can hear what they’re saying (about Meng Yao/JGY) or if he’s just being his usual psycho self. I really like that even when Xue Yang is not the focus of the scene, Wang Haoxuan (who portrays Xue Yang of course) is still constantly acting and reacting. I’ve seen folks criticize him for doing that, but I think that’s a little unfair since that had to have been the direction given to him. Not to mention, I think it’s entirely reasonable for Xue Yang to be extra like that, all the time.  

I don’t hate Jin Guangyao, similar to how I feel about Xue Yang, I simply can’t hate him, but I do absolutely hate what he did to Wei Ying, especially when I see this scene again and am reminded of how Wei Ying had also treated him with sincerity and respect, just like Big Bro Xichen did. And yet, while JGY was only protective and caring toward LXC, he basically chose to fuck Wei Ying over. I know the difference is in whom he loved, but still, damn him for that. Wei Ying deserved better from him.   

This was an interesting scene because of how great a risk Jin Guangyao was putting himself in. Wen Zhuliu could have totally accidentally killed him. Even though his aim originally was probably just to injure Nie Mingjue, JGY is not as strong as NMJ so a strike that may only injure the other man could have easily been fatal to JGY. So I guess in this instance, JGY’s intent on saving his master was sincere? But that’s still such a HUGE gamble. He is really so fascinating as a character. And his relationship with NMJ is fascinating as well because there were obviously genuine feelings between them as well—NMJ was freaking crying when he was banishing JGY—and yet the way JGY ultimately ended NMJ’s life was so damn brutal. I know there’s a fine line between love and hate but because their lives continued to be intertwined afterwards, I wonder when exactly it was the two of them crossed over to hate completely. I mean, I have an idea, which I will eventually give voice to, but I still feel a little uncertainty because of certain events that happen immediately afterwards.  

I wish we got to see just how Jin Guangyao found and rescued Big Bro Xichen and oh my God would I LOVE to see the time they spent together, presumably alone, in hiding while Lan Xichen was recovering from his wounds. I feel like we were royally deprived of some serious XiYao time by the live drama. Considering the fact that they seem to thoroughly support this ship, I’m honestly surprised that they didn’t use this opportunity to creatively fill in that big blank. I mean, instead of giving us all those unnecessary scenes of Wen Ruohan and his stupid zombies, they should have given us some XiYao-in-hiding scenes instead dammit.  

Questions I Still Have

Why didn’t Wen Zhuliu go for NMJ’s golden core? Especially since he clearly had an opening when NMJ was busy with the injured JGY? Also, how strong is Wen Chao supposed to be that he could even injure NMJ that seriously? I now he was already weakened and Wen Chao did attack from the back like a coward, but still, his cultivation level can’t be higher than NMJ so I’m just a little surprise his hit made any impact at all, especially since he seems mostly weaksauce in all other instances. This whole fight scene was just a little weird to me. And also, damn is JGY a shitty liar at that point. I actually laughed out loud when he full on denied that he was the one who killed that dude (who I thought was a total dick tbh so I kinda don’t blame JGY for killing his ass) even though he was still holding on to the murder weapon which was dripping with the guy’s blood. Guess he still hadn’t perfected his lying skills. 

Overall Episode Rating: 9 Lil Apples out of 10

[icanthelpbut-love-you]

in your warmth I forget how cold it can be

Sappy 3x22 reunion feels for @supercalime, who prompted “malec after the reunion in Edom and before the golden sheet scene” 

read on ao3 [Explicit]

There’s a brief moment, when it’s all over, when Magnus’ portal has closed in a shower of blue sparks, when the scorching heat of Edom is replaced by the familiar slightly-too-cool of the Institute, that they all just stand there. None of them make a sound, save for the occasional gasp and rustle of fabric as their chests still heave from exertion, unwilling to break the silence in case this all turns out to be a cruel dream.

If it is a dream, Alec decides, he’s more than content to never wake up.

He can’t take his eyes off Magnus. It starts out as relief, surging through him in waves as he drinks in the sight of his fiancé (his fiancé!) standing only a few feet away, potent enough that the small part of him that’s been whispering defeatedly in the back of his mind the past few days is finally, blissfully silent. But underneath there’s a something else stirring, something warm that’s been burning from the moment he’d held Magnus in his arms down in Edom. Since he’d got to touch him, even if only for a few moments before reality came crashing ever so inconveniently back in.

And after that… well. Magnus, standing proud against the mother of all demons with more power wrapped in the palm of his hands than Alec has ever seen in his life: that’s an image that is seared right into Alec’s retinas. Lit by Edom’s ever-present fiery glow Magnus had looked striking and dangerous and every bit the king he was born to be. Alec’s pretty sure he’s never going to catch his breath again.

It had sent the flames simmering deep in his gut into a full-blown inferno. Standing here now, close enough to see the tongues of residual magic licking at Magnus’ fingers but too far to touch, is almost unbearable.

His thoughts drift, and he wonders if there’s a way he and Magnus can make a subtle exit in the next few minutes. Then, he catches the way Jace is sneaking looks at Clary and the covert eye contact between Izzy and Simon. It’d be enough to make him laugh, the way all their minds have predictably wandered in the same direction, if he wasn’t incapable of thinking about anything beyond how much he wants. Given the amused expressions on both Lorenzo and Meliorn’s faces none of them are doing a very good job of concealing it – Alec knows he isn’t, with the way he’s abandoned all pretence of not staring at Magnus – but it’s not like anyone can really blame them given the near-death experiences of the past few hours. It’s only a matter of who snaps first.

The distinctive whoosh of a new portal opening shatters the quiet and makes Alec jump.

“As much as I’m enjoying standing silently in the middle of the Institute – and really I am,” Magnus’ voice rings through the space between them, sardonic and leaving no doubt about exactly how far that is from the truth, “I’ve just been reunited with my fiancé and, quite frankly, I can think of a lot of things I’d rather be doing.”

The smile Magnus sends the group is lofty and dismissive. But as his eyes land on Alec there’s a flash of near-imperceptible tightness, a blink-and-you’d-miss-it shadow gone so quickly that Alec’s not completely sure it’s not just a trick of the light. Instinct tells him to close the distance between them, regardless of their company. To cradle Magnus’ face in his hands so he can scrutinise every expression there and remind him that he doesn’t have to hide anything around Alec.

“So you’ll have to forgive me if we… make ourselves scarce.”

Whatever Alec was planning on doing, Magnus’ words – which take on a frankly indecent tone for all that they’re relatively innocent – successfully scatter it along with any other semblance of coherent thought. Without permission his eyes drop to Magnus’ lips, drawn there by the smirk that overtakes Magnus’ face as he turns his attention fully to Alec. A flush creeps up Alec’s neck that has nothing to do with embarrassment.

“Shall we?” Magnus asks, offering his elbow expectantly and closing that frustrating distance between them while Alec’s brain is still coming back online.

It’s an over the top gesture, quaint in its old-fashionedness, and Alec snorts as he intertwines their arms. He feels so light, giddy with it. With the relief sitting bright inside him, with the fact that he can finally afford to laugh, so easily, when he hasn’t so much as cracked a smile the entire time Magnus has been gone.

Alec has only a moment to catch sight of the suggestive eyebrow wiggle from Izzy – which is hardly fair, considering the blatant bedroom eyes she was giving Simon seconds ago – before he’s being practically dragged through the portal.

“I believe we have some lost time to make up for, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs over the rush of magic as they tumble through, and Alec shivers at the promise evident in the way Magnus’ voice drops to a purr.

Barely making it out of the portal, Alec sees just enough of their surroundings to realise Magnus has deposited them directly into their bedroom in the loft before Magnus is seizing the collar of his jacket and crowding him backwards. His back hits the wall. Alec is about to tease Magnus for being so eager he can’t even make it to the bed, but Magnus is already claiming his lips in a searing kiss. They’re pressed together from chest to toe, so when Magnus slots a knee between Alec’s legs to bring them even closer Alec can’t hold back the whine that’s torn from his throat and quickly muffled by Magnus’ lips. Knees buckling slightly at the onslaught of sensation, Alec grips Magnus’ arms – an action that only serves to make him even more unsteady as Magnus’ muscles shift under his fingers.

Back in the real world, outside the sanctuary of the loft, the world is still spinning. Izzy still needs a full health check in the aftermath of the heavenly fire, Alec still needs to ask Magnus what actually happened with Asmodeus to make Magnus so certain he’s a non-issue, and Jonathan is still out there doing Raziel-knows-what (wreaking havoc most likely). The chaos that is their lives hasn’t conveniently decided to take a breather just because he and Magnus have been reunited.

But right now? Alec can’t bring himself to care. The world could be crumbling and he wouldn’t spare it a thought. Right now, all he can think about is Magnus, consuming his senses with fierce kisses and fervent touches until Alec’s world is reduced to nothing but the two of them.

Admittedly, there is something to be said about the role reversal evident in Magnus being the impatient one. Normally it’s Alec rushing headfirst into everything and Magnus drawing things out with maddening self-restraint – although Alec’s getting increasingly good at wearing him down.

It makes Alec chuckle lowly as Magnus fights to remove Alec’s shirt, breaking their kiss long enough to wrench it up Alec’s torso and practically growling as it catches on the way over his shoulders. Any other day, Magnus would snap his fingers and the offending material would be instantly gone. But Alec can relate all too well to the bone-deep need to touch, to confirm in every possible way that this isn’t just a grief-driven fantasy.

Finally managing to wrestle Alec’s shirt into submission, Magnus tears it over Alec’s head and tosses it somewhere to the side. The motion sparks hint of concern in Alec’s subconscious, triggered by the way that Magnus seems to be teetering on the edge between passion and something else. Something frantic and desperate. It’s gone before Alec can fully process it though, scattered once more by the burning pressure of Magnus’ hands on his bare skin, gliding over the planes of Alec’s chest. Magnus circles his thumb around a nipple, brushing over the hard nub and pressing down. Alec shudders and he can feel Magnus grinning triumphantly into his mouth.

Then Magnus pulls back, reaching between them to join Alec in undoing his shirt, and he’s shaking.

Magnus’ hands tremble, fumbling over the buttons uncontrollably, and it’s something Alec has never seen before. Not from Magnus, who’s always so carefully in control, so composed. Until he’s not.

Alec halts his own efforts and brings a hand to cup Magnus’ cheek.

“Hey,” he whispers, tilting Magnus’ face to coax his gaze upwards, “Look at me.”

He’s not sure how he could have missed the tension when it’s now so obvious in every line of Magnus’ body as his eyes snap up. And there’s that undercurrent of restlessness, something wild in the warlock’s expression just underneath the blazing desire.

It’s fear, Alec realises abruptly, a lingering terror that hasn’t quite had time to be tempered by the relief of the past few hours. Terror that if he stops to breathe this will all be ripped out from beneath him. Terror borne of complete disbelief that it can possibly be over.

It’s the same expression that Alec caught a glimpse of earlier in the Institute, the same fear that’s bleeding into Magnus’ uncharacteristic forwardness. But now it’s stripped bare and Magnus isn’t even trying to hide it. Or – more likely – he is, but is losing the battle against his rapidly-crumbling façade.

It occurs to Alec that a significant part of Magnus, with his penchant for underestimating how much he is loved and how much he is a vital part of the lives of those who love him, might not have believed that anyone was coming for him.

Alec’s heart breaks a little with the raw unguarded desperation in Magnus eyes where they’re locked with his. It’s like Magnus is hanging on by a thread, the agony of the past few days catching up with him and Alec can see him on the precipice of losing what pretence of composure he has left.

“I’m here, Magnus,” he says, aiming for reassuring but missing the mark and ending up closer to pleading (and alright, maybe he isn’t as ok as he’s been trying to pretend), “We’re here.”  

“I know,” Magnus breathes back, but there’s still something frayed in his tone. He sounds exhausted. Defeated. And it might be Alec’s borderline unhealthy need to fix everything talking, but that’s not something he can just let go.

“No, Magnus, listen to me. There is nothing – not in this world, not in Edom, not in any of the countless other dimensions out there – that could keep me away from you.”

“We always find our way back to each other?” Magnus queries, voice light but expression intense as he repeats Alec’s words from so long ago back to him.

Alec pauses for a second, fingers caressing Magnus’ jaw as he makes sure he has his fiancé’s full attention before he speaks, trying to force all the intensity and adoration and fierce certainty swirling inside him into a single word.

“Always.”

He must get at least some of it across. Something deep inside Alec aches at the awe that flits across Magnus’ face, the shock in the subtle parting of Magnus’ lips that – incomprehensibly – surfaces every time Magnus is faced with how much Alec loves him. As though somehow he doesn’t know that a trip to hell doesn’t even scratch the surface of the lengths Alec would go to for him.

Turning his face in Alec’s hand, Magnus presses a kiss to his palm. His eyes slip closed as the tension visibly bleeds from him, and he sags a little where he’s pressed against Alec. The ache intensifies, Alec’s heart clenching at the complete trust Magnus is showing him in allowing himself to be vulnerable like this.

When Magnus’ eyes open again Alec is met with brilliant gold. He leans in and brushes his lips gently against Magnus’, the frantic edge from before mostly dissipated. Their hands touch as they both work on Magnus’ shirt buttons once more and, this time, they’re steady.

The last button slips free and Alec slides his hands up to Magnus’ shoulders to push the shirt down his arms onto the floor. He keeps pushing, gently urging Magnus backwards.

“C’mon,” he pulls back just enough to whisper breathlessly against Magnus mouth, “Bed.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Magnus murmurs, distracted, gaze dropping back to Alec’s lips.

Rolling his eyes, there’s nothing Alec can do but kiss him again properly, swallowing Magnus’ bright laugh, tasting the tentative joy sweet on his lips.

Magnus’ knees hit the foot of the bed and they both tumble onto the golden sheets, trading playful kisses. Magnus looks from their still-clothed lower halves back to Alec, the question obvious. Before he can even fully process, Alec’s nodding. There’s a time for carefully undressing each other, for revelling in the fumble of battling with uncooperative belts and too tight jeans (mainly on Magnus’ part), but Alec’s pretty sure he’ll die if he has to pull away from Magnus for even a second.

Magnus wastes no time obliging, the crackle of electricity and faint scent of ozone intoxicating where it lingers in the air between them – by the angel, Alec hadn’t fully realised how much he’s missed the tell-tale prickle of Magnus’ magic against his skin and that specific shade of blue – and then they’re pressed against each other skin to skin. Alec is struck momentarily dumb, taking in the sight of Magnus splayed across the shimmering bedsheets. The impish gleam in Magnus’ eyes is all the warning he gets before Magnus takes advantage of his brief distraction, flipping them so that he’s straddling Alec.

If Magnus is expecting him to put up a fight he’ll be sorely disappointed, Alec thinks dazedly. Magnus above him, pressing him into the bed, never fails to make Alec practically melt. He’s always craved physical contact from Magnus – a gentle touch to his waist as they manoeuvre around each other in the kitchen, a kiss the second he comes home, a hand carding through his hair when they curl up on the couch – and if he stopped to contemplate it that probably has something to do with the way he so completely denied himself affection of any kind before they met. But this he adores on a whole new level. With Magnus’ weight on him he feels grounded. Safe.

Magnus leans back where he’s perched on top of Alec and raises his hand. In truly predictable form, he waits until the combination of the abrupt lack contact and deliberate motion draw Alec’s focus to exactly where he wants it for maximum impact, and only then does he move to vanish his rings. It’s a familiar, practiced gesture, full of intent that has Alec shivering. Magnus is well aware of that, far too smug in the knowledge of what seeing him use magic in any context (but especially this one) does to Alec and shamelessly taking advantage of that knowledge whenever the opportunity arises. So it visibly catches Magnus by surprise when Alec stops him with a gentle hand before he can complete the movement, propping himself on an elbow to shift so he’s sitting up.

The change of position sends Magnus grinding down into his lap and they both groan.

It derails from there, Alec completely distracted from his original purpose as Magnus surges forwards again to kiss him. Alec bucks up into the tantalising friction as Magnus trails his lips down Alec’s neck, unerringly finding the deflect rune there. He nips lightly at it before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Helpless under Magnus’ ministrations, Alec bares his neck in unselfconscious invitation. An invitation that Magnus is all too happy to take, worrying at the skin until there’s no doubt that Alec will find a mark there later. The careful attention his fiancé is paying to the junction between skin and rune, where dormant electricity lies tightly coiled under the surface, leaves Alec unable to contain the breathy noises escaping him. Magnus hums in response, smug but clearly breathless too, and the vibration makes Alec’s already bruising grip on Magnus’ hips tighten.

It’s not until one of Magnus’ hands – the one not still intertwined with Alec’s – comes up to cup Alec’s neck, the press of rings cool against his feverish skin, that Alec abruptly refocuses.

Reluctantly urging Magnus to sit back, laughing at the warlock’s protesting whine and immediately missing the contact, Alec draws Magnus’ right hand towards him. His fingers find one of the signet rings there, running over the grooves of the engraved B as he considers.

He can feel Magnus gather power, blue sparks dancing over their joined hands as he once again prepares to banish the rings. Alec shakes his head before Magnus gets a chance, and Magnus sends him a quizzical look.

“Let me,” Alec murmurs, voice coming out low and husky.

Alec hears Magnus’ breath catch, briefly mesmerised by the bob of Magnus’ throat as he swallows thickly and nods. His normally slitted pupils are dilated, black swallowing the irises until there’s barely a thin ring of gold peeking out at the edges.

Slipping the ring off Magnus’ finger, Alec places it on the bed next to them and narrows his eyes as it immediately vanishes. Shaking his head as he looks up at Magnus, a picture of innocence, Alec moves on to the next ring – engraved with a swirling M to match the previous one – and removes it too. When he reaches for Magnus’ other hand, he finds Magnus already extending it towards him in offering. Evidently Alec’s not the only one affected by this. An undoubtedly sappy grin overtakes his face and Alec takes the proffered hand as he places the ring on the golden sheets next to him. He huffs a laugh as it too disappears.

If he were to look in Magnus’ jewellery box, Alec suspects that he’d find both rings nestled in their rightful places. With that in mind this should feel ridiculous, a pointless gesture. But it’s intimate in a way that Alec hadn’t quite anticipated, in a way that’s making it difficult to properly draw breath.  

He hesitates, brushing a thumb reverently over the last remaining ring – the only ring on Magnus’ left hand. It’s far less opulent than the others, a simple silver band glinting in the low light. Taking in the way it sits innocuously on Magnus’ finger simultaneously makes a lump form in his throat and happiness rush liquid through his veins. He’s hyperaware of the ring’s twin where its comforting weight rests on his own hand.

The awareness brings forth memories of thousands of wings against unnaturally dark skies, the crash of falling demon towers, the chilling realisation of fighting a losing battle, and – in the midst of all that – Magnus pulling him aside to steal a moment of pure joy. Memories of the weight of a ring on his finger and a promise in his heart, and the feeling of completeness. Completeness that contrasted so wholly with the cold emptiness as Magnus disappeared through the portal moments later, as above the deafening sounds of battle Alec could hear something inside himself shatter beyond repair.

In the days that followed – terrifying, seemingly-endless days filled with nothing but uncertainty and longing – the ring became his anchor. Other than the few minutes spent trying to track Magnus in Edom, Alec hasn’t taken it off for a second since Magnus slid it onto his finger in Alicante. Sometimes it’s been the only thing stopping him from screaming or collapsing out of pure exhaustion. Or both.

But more than that it’s been a tangible reminder while Magnus was gone, a promise not just of love and commitment but that he would get Magnus back, no matter the way everyone else appeared distressingly resigned. A promise that Alec would do quite literally anything if it meant he could hold Magnus in his arms again.

And now he can. He is. And Alec never wants to let him go.

After a moment of consideration, he raises Magnus hand to his lips and gently places a kiss on the cool metal. Gazing up through his lashes (he’s learnt to play coy from the best, after all), the way Magnus softens – eyes crinkling and lips turning up as he watches Alec with utter adoration – makes warmth seep into Alec’s skin and heat him to the core.

The moment lingers, hanging in the air between them as Alec reverently lowers Magnus’ hand from his lips. He leaves the engagement ring where it is; Magnus is predominantly right handed and, even if he wasn’t, the ring wouldn’t really get in the way there.

Confusion touches Magnus’ face for a second before he realises Alec’s intentions, fondness and hunger warring blatantly in his eyes.

Hunger apparently wins, because then Magnus is pouncing and pressing Alec back against the sheets. A startled laugh is punched out of Alec at the eagerness of Magnus’ hands on him, skimming down his ribs. It gets choked off into a groan though, as Magnus trails his fingers over the inside of his thighs before pressing one against his rim, already slick (though whether by magic or just while Alec was otherwise distracted he can’t say for sure). For a few moments Magnus just rubs the tip of his finger there, almost teasing but not quite. Savouring.

It’s only when Alec reaches back to brace a hand on the headboard so he can push back against Magnus’ hand that Magnus finally presses in, one finger then another, never wavering from that unbearably languid pace. Then on the next inward thrust, Magnus presses feather-light against the spot that has Alec crying out.

Scratch that. Magnus is definitely teasing.

Twisting his fingers, Magnus alternates between deliberately avoiding Alec’s prostate and just brushing it, the anticipation and unpredictability of it as much as the sparks of pleasure making Alec jolt and gasp until he’s rocking on Magnus’ fingers with open desperation.

A stifled noise from Magnus prompts Alec to lift his head so he can see his fiancé properly. Magnus meets his gaze, the thin ring of gold still visible around his dilated pupils glinting a smouldering amber. His lips are red, like he’s been biting down hard as he tends to do when he wants to hear Alec but can’t contain his own sounds of pleasure. He looks awestruck. As if he can’t bring himself to look away – as if he can barely believe what’s in front of him.`

“You’re beautiful, my Alexander,” he murmurs, punctuating his words with a curl of his fingers that makes Alec’s vision blur at the edges, “Gorgeous. Stunning. A work of art –”

He breaks off with a low groan, free hand shifting, and Alec realises that Magnus is touching himself, the heel of his palm pressing reflexively against his cock.

It’s too much. Alec’s already wound far too tight without Magnus looking at him like that, getting off just at the sight of Alec spread out in front of him. Alec’s head drops back against the pillows, eyes falling closed and breath stuttering.

Magnus stills his fingers then, a playful admonishment. Alec’s eyes flutter back open, hips thrusting back harder as he looks at Magnus plaintively. Magnus only follows the movement, drawing his fingers out in a torturous slide and smiling wickedly at the whine it pulls from Alec. The effect is dampened somewhat by how thoroughly wrecked Magnus looks, eyes hooded and the tension in his muscles belying the self-control it’s taking for him to hold back.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, repeating Alec’s words from earlier back at him, and Alec is powerless to do anything but obey, gaze locked with Magnus’ as the head of his cock presses against him.

“If that’s all you’ve – ah – got, I may as well get myself off,” Alec snarks when Magnus doesn’t immediately move, instead remaining pressed against his sensitive rim until the urge to flip them both over and just take his pleasure is near-impossible for Alec to resist.

Magnus’ eyes flash with delight. “We have all night, Alexander. Forgive me for wanting to savour the moment.”

Then he’s pushing in, and any further retorts die on Alec’s lips.

He can feel every inch of Magnus inside him, every shift as he slides in magnified by the rush of overwhelming elation. Alec arches, choking on a moan as Magnus slides forwards until he’s fully seated. He flexes his arm where he’s clutching the headboard, partially an uncontrollable response to the exquisite stretch but also because he knows all too well the effect it will have on Magnus. Sure enough, Magnus’ grip on Alec’s thigh goes momentarily slack, eyes glazing over where they trace the line of Alec’s bicep.

Then Magnus seems to gather himself, fingers tightening enough that Alec can feel the bite of Magnus’ ring where it presses into his skin. The sensation sends a thrill of anticipation through him. Deliberately, Magnus pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in one smooth slide, wrenching a groan from deep in his own throat to answer Alec’s sharp gasp at the friction it creates, pace building as Alec rocks back to meet him.

Adjusting his grip, Magnus hikes Alec’s legs up where they’re wrapped around his waist. The movement tilts Alec’s hips, changing the angle just enough that on his next thrust Magnus hits his prostate dead on. Alec tosses his head back in a silent shout as sudden white-hot pleasure steals the breath from his lungs, feeling Magnus’ rhythm falter as Alec clenches around him. Desperate for an anchor, his hands come up to scrabble against Magnus’ back, drawing him close.

“Magnus, there – oh, right there, fuck,” he manages, voice so raw he barely recognises it as his own.

Legs tightening, he digs his heels insistently into Magnus’ lower back, rocking up to chase the feeling and keep Magnus pressed flush against him. Magnus obliges with a breathless moan as Alec’s movements force him deeper, slowing their pace until they’re grinding together, not willing to even separate enough to thrust properly. The constant pressure against Alec’s prostate lights up every nerve in his body until all he can do is clutch at Magnus’ shoulders and let the pleasure overtake him.

He leans up, the distance between them still far too much. Magnus responds by bringing their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss and the movement, combined with their slow rocking, traps Alec’s cock against Magnus’ abs. It only takes a few thrusts like that, the perfect angle combined with that friction and the taste of Magnus on his tongue, to bring Alec off with a cry that breaks into a sob as Magnus’ slides a hand between them to stroke him through it.

Balancing on the exquisite edge of overstimulation, Alec murmurs praise as he grinds up to encourage Magnus’ increasingly erratic movements and trembles as each shift only intensifies the aftershocks. By now Magnus is more gasping against Alec’s lips than actually kissing him and if he could go again so quickly Alec would be hard just from the noises Magnus is making. As it is, his cock twitches at the dull pulse of pleasure that shoots through him when Magnus tucks his face into Alec’s neck and tips over the edge with a choked-off moan of Alec’s name. Blue sparks spill from Magnus’ fingers as he comes deep inside Alec, turning the feeling sharp, skittering over his skin and overloading him with the ecstasy of Magnus’ release until he’s writhing against the sheets.  

Running his hands fervently over Magnus’ back and shoulders as they both come down, Alec can feel Magnus shudder just before his arms give out. He all but collapses over Alec with an exaggerated huff that has Alec dissolving into muffled giggles, high on endorphins and the familiar weight of Magnus’ body on his. Magnus glares half-heartedly for a moment, trying and thoroughly failing to contain the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and then they’re both laughing breathlessly while Magnus musters the energy to shift off Alec so they can manoeuvre themselves into a more comfortable position.

They lie there, an offhanded spell from Magnus cleaning them enough for now, tangled together and catching their breath. Gazing up at Magnus, once he’s regained the presence of mind and coordination to do so, Alec drinks in the way the light reflects off the golden sheets and illuminates Magnus’ face in a soft glow.

His head is resting on Magnus’ chest, jostled by the slight up and down of Magnus’ ragged breathing. Magnus’ heart beats against his cheek, strong and – Alec notes with a hint of smugness – more than a little erratic, but evening out with every passing second. It’s far more comforting than it has any right to be.

Magnus’ arm tightens around him as their eyes meet, and Alec notices that Magnus’ hand has gravitated to rest over his heart. Fingers splayed and hand pressing gently down, it’s like Magnus is subconsciously trying to feel Alec’s heartbeat too, as reassuring to him as his is to Alec. He snuggles further into Magnus’ embrace, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ chest just to feel the brief flutter against his lips.

“I missed you,” he whispers against Magnus’ skin, “More than words can say. You were only gone a few days but every second was agony.”

Alec’s voice breaks a little on ‘gone’ but he pushes past it. Even though he’s said as much earlier, even though bringing it up again risks rupturing the blissful bubble they’ve found themselves in, with his defences completely down he can’t fight the need to make sure Magnus knows in no uncertain terms that Alec would have sooner died than stopped searching for a way to get him back.

Magnus, thankfully, just hums pensively in response, remaining lax next to him.

“I missed you too. There I was stuck in Edom for the foreseeable future, Lilith on my doorstep, but all I could think about was you.”

He chuckles self-deprecatingly but it does nothing to offset the vulnerability in his tone. His free hand shifts, searching.

Alec meets him halfway, intertwining their fingers.  

“The world could have been falling out from underneath us and finding you would have still been my first priority. You know that, right?”

It’s only because he’s pressed as close as he is that he’s privy to Magnus’ sharp intake of breath – feeling more than hearing it in the abrupt rise of Magnus’ chest beneath him. But Magnus’ speechlessness is obvious anyway in the resounding silence that follows. Alec toys with Magnus’ fingers, twisting his ring absentmindedly.

“I love you so much, Alexander,” Magnus finally breathes, voice rough, and Alec squeezes his hand.

“Love you more.”

The quip startles a splutter of laughter from Magnus.

“Not possible,” he shoots back, teasing and heartfelt all at once. Alec buries his grin in Magnus’ chest.

Basking in each other’s presence, they lapse into contented silence and before long Alec catches himself dozing. Wrapped in Magnus’ arms, finally home, he lets himself be lulled by the rhythm of Magnus’ gradually-deepening breaths until he drifts off. And, for the first time in days, he sleeps peacefully, his fiancé’s heartbeat steady in his ear.

[postdoc-help-desk]

Expert Note-Taking

Last post was about how to manage any references you gather during your research, so this time I’m going to focus on another important related factor: keeping track of important information obtained from references. Even though you can do this in multiple ways and preferences will determine what you go for, there is one factor you’ll definitely want to consider before choosing an option.

It all comes down to the question of how long your project will last and how many references you’ll need to collect in order to complete it. For me, these fall into three categories that boil down to the terms small, medium, and large.

◆ Consider small projects as those that are fairly short or not requiring many references. If the project only lasts a few weeks or you need under 10 references, you can probably get away with printing articles before highlighting relevant information and scribbling notes in the margins. If you prefer to keep things digital, these options are also available in most PDF reader applications.

◆ For medium-sized projects with up to 20 references or ones that last up to a semester’s worth of time, you may want to consider transferring that information to a notebook or onto note cards that you can flip through or putting it all into a single word processing document. At the very least, this will reduce each reference to its relevant information instead of having to skip past extraneous information. Since you should have a PDF copy of all your references saved for easy access, you will always have the option to return to the full piece for details you may have missed previously.

◆ And then there’s the large projects. For any projects that require more than 20 references, you will likely want to be able to search and sort information more easily, and this is where software options can be immensely beneficial. Similarly, any projects that last longer than one semester’s worth of time is likely best suited for digital notes so you don’t misplace work and have to do a close rereading of any references. As graduate students, this is where your main research project will definitely end up, though other projects may as well.

Of course, your cutoff point might be different than mine, so don’t feel like you have to stick to these values. If you have a better memory or fewer things to juggle, you may get away with stretching to longer time periods or larger quantities of references. If you’re liable to forget things easily or have a lot of responsibilities, make sure you account for this! You know your own limits better than I do, but do try to err on the cautious side. And by no means should you push yourself to keep everything in your head, because you will definitely forget information or mix up sources and details if you do!

So let me spend the rest of this post talking about what some of the best options are out there for digital academic note-taking. Just like you did in choosing a reference manager, spend a little time testing out your choice to make sure it’s a good fit for you and your style. If you thought the idea of transferring your references from one manager to another halfway through a project was daunting, consider how much worse it would be without the automatic export and import options they offer and you’ll have a sense for what transferring your notes to another platform halfway through a project would be like.

Digital note-taking options have two distinct advantages over paper and print options, which are intertwined. They are the copy and paste function and the search function. ◇ Whether you’re copying a specific quotation into your notes or grabbing a screenshot of a figure or table, this is invaluable next to having to hand-write or draw out anything. Even if you were to underline, highlight, or physically cut out the relevant part of a paper, each of these options are more time-consuming in the long run. Cutting up a physical copy to paste pieces into a notebook is completely absurd and does you no benefit when it comes time to use that information, and neither does underlining or highlighting because you’ll still have to go back to the whole reference. Finding highlighted or underlined phrases after the fact is hugely annoying, if for no other reason than having to flip through countless pages to find the right sentence. But any images you put into your digital notebook will be accessible to copy and paste out of it later on, just as any quotations will be. Searching for information will also take significantly less time and effort, because you won’t have to flip through physical notes to manually identify relevant phrases. Instead, all text in your digital notebook can be searched using the search function in the program if it has one, or CTRL+F if it doesn’t.

Now, I’m a little biased in note-taking options and I’m sure that will come across, so do keep that in mind. For me, there are really only three viable digital options at this time that are well-designed for academic note-taking.

A word processing document: ◇ It’s important to start by recognizing the tried-and-true, long-standing option of a massive document. This can of course be a browser-based document like a Google Doc that you can access anywhere with Internet or it could be application-based like a Microsoft Word document that is saved locally to a hard drive. But no matter how you design and format it, a giant document is the most basic of the digital choices and therefore has the fewest benefits. This means that as long as you include something to identify where any information comes from, it can work but it has distinct limits. However, the more references and information you add to the file, the harder it will become to pick out specifics or draw connections between several references. Consider for a moment the limitation of your monitor screen size. While it may sound silly, remember that if you copy several figures or take a lot of notes on one reference, the space taken up could easily take up more than what you are able to reasonably read on the screen. If you then want to find a key phrase or concept that appears in multiple references, there’s no way to find both that key information and the reference it comes from at the same time, even with a search function. Taking notes for small or medium projects may be feasible with a word processing document, but should definitely not be used with large projects.

Evernote or Microsoft OneNote: ◇ So what if you don’t want to use a word-processing document, or you have a large project to do? Both Evernote and OneNote are great options for you to keep all your notes together. They’re fairly similar, so in large part your decision will come down to personal preference. Evernote is distinctly business-like in its design with a relatively drab color scheme. In contrast, OneNote is a bit more colorful and creative in its design. This may not matter to you, but then again, it may be depressing or distracting for you if you choose the wrong application. The most significant difference between them, however, is the cost. Evernote has several levels to it, including the individual use options of basic and premium. Basic Evernote is free, but comes with the limitation of only being accessible on a computer rather than having the mobile access option that comes with a premium account. It also restricts your account in terms of the number of devices that can be linked to it, which may be problematic if you’re likely to work on multiple computers.For $8 a month, however, you’ll have Premium Evernote and be able to get rid of both of these issues while bumping up your abilities in some other areas, too. It’s also worth noting that a school email address can grant you a full year with a Premium account for free. OneNote, on the other hand, is completely free. No pay levels and no differences between account abilities, just full access. So, what can you do with these softwares? Since both of them are designed specifically to be note-taking software, there are some distinct benefits that mostly appear through organizational features. - While the terminology is different between them, both Evernote and OneNote let you organize your notes very well. Remember back in middle school when you had a different binder for each class, dividers within each binder for different sections of material, and many different pages within those dividers that contained your notes? That’s pretty much what you’ll have again through these applications, but with the added benefit of being digital. Each project can be the binder, while subsections within it will become folders, like the dividers, and all of your notes for each reference will go onto a different page. You can even create subfolders if needed. - Another key organizational feature here is one that I pointed out as a weakness with a word processing document, which is keeping more information on one screen. To continue the metaphor, unlike your middle school binders, you can see the name of each page in a folder without having to flip through them so you can identify and find information more easily. You’ll still have to click through the pages to see the notes, but if you use a search function to find a key word or phrase, you’ll much more easily identify which references have that information in them.

No matter what route you choose, regardless of the project size or duration, keeping track of which source any information comes from is easily the most important thing. By doing this, you will save significant amounts of time in not having to look back through multitudes of documents to find a specific statement or figure in one of them again.

[go-diane-winchester]

The

Excuse the finger error on the heading.  Not important anyway. 

Doll face sent this wonderful observation that I didn't even realize.

''In response to your thing about Castiel - I feel ya. You can argue and debate till you’re blue in the face but it won’t make a difference. The stans only hear what they wanna hear. S1,2,3 remain my favourite seasons of the show and probably 3 of the most successful seasons overall. It was the brothers against the world. All this repetitive angel BS wasn’t a factor. It was dark and twisty and the SL was consistent. It didn’t need Castiel to be what it was and never has done.''

I agree with this but it reminds me of something Jared said in the earlier panels.  He said, although he was humble enough to take any job.  He wanted to do something that was not campy.  She is right.  The tone and texture of SPN was gritty and real.  There was feeling of ''This has happened somewhere.  We just don't know about it''.  I am also forgiving of the fourth and fifth season because those stories were congruent with the previous seasons.  The story was still focused on the brothers.  They were the front and center of the story.  And the big bad story was intertwined with their story.  It was not like the stories that came after season 5, that had nothing to do with them. 

Plus, despite the inclusion of humor in the story, there was no moment that made you scrunch your forehead and go ''what the???''.  The humor, on many occasions, made sense.  That is why, once upon a time, people were crazy about the shifter.  Every time this creature appeared on screen, something  interesting happened.  From St. Louis to the Monster Movie episode, to Changing Channels.  Even if it was funny, that was fine, because the shifter was a buffer.  You could blame the meagre amount of silliness on him and the silliness was not insulting to a viewer.  Other than the oversensitive stans, most people thoroughly enjoyed the episodes.

Then the Gamble era ended, and even the humor got pathetic.  Dean's humor, especially, has gotten ludicrous over the years.  Dean is a lot of funny things, but he is clumsy and stupid.  Eating pie messily, getting out of the wrestling ring clumsily , it was all too much.  Jensen, himself, said that Scooby Dooby Doo line he had to say was mortifying.  I remember watching that scene with the dumb ascot [whhyyy???] and cringing.  Remember when Dean was the gritty bad boy with a good heart?  Yeah, well he died after Scoobynatural.  This joke that we have on the scene now, isn't that Dean.  This one doesn't use holy water and silver to test a person.  He uses baked goods.  Dean Winchester is now a silly cartoon. 

Even his British attire for Michael makes no sense.  Although the choice was Jensen's because he is a fan of Peaky Blinders, if I was in charge of wardrobe, I would have said no.  I would have given him a black turtleneck, black jeans, and a long, glossy, ankle length black leather jacket that made from a leather that allowed the jacket to be manipulated by a gust of wind.  That fucking stupid hat, I tell you.  The point is everyone is too busy playing and none were taking their jobs seriously.  So they didn't correct Jensen and why should they if he is doing all the thinking for them. 

Sam's character was completely butchered in S8.  Sam's fans must have been gritting their teeth throughout that season because of the character assassination.  I did a full post only on that.  Sam went from flawed to downright selfish and mean in that season and I hypothesized that someone in the writers room, just hated him.  I stand by that hypothesis until something more substantial comes along.  Though they stopped giving him any story.  After S8, everything that happened, seemed to center around Dean with Sam picking up the pieces.  Unfortunately for whoever hates Jared, they cant switch off Jensen and Jared's chemistry.  And that's a good thing because at least kept the show watchable. 

The gritty left with the inclusion of the bunker.  I understand why they used the bunker storyline.  New sets each week were probably expensive.  One fixed set almost every week, has a lesser dent on the budget.  But it was the bunker that made the whole show start to appear campy.  I remember Angel had a similar looking set and that was a campy show.  I miss the dingy motel rooms, creepy cemetery, the salvage yard and everything else that made Supernatural old school American.  The BMOLs with their accent, and the dystopian AU world were nothing like the picture that Sam and Dean helped paint many years ago.  When Dean was blasted into the future, where Samifer made an appearance, it was only for one day, not the whole season. 

I didn't have an issue with the Castiel that Kripke had written, even though the first three seasons were indeed real and gritty and not campy at all.  I just saw him as a guest character like Rufus, Bobby, Hendrickson, Ellen etc.  I didn't think there was anything special about the character.  And I would have tolerated him if the actor playing him didn't get to big for his britches.   However, that character and the caricature he was replaced with, are two distinct characters.  First of all, Misha unfortunately bled into the character.  I have never known a more inadequate man. 

So the masculinity and quiet wisdom that the character was supposed to exude was replaced by a colossal wimp who cant fight anyone properly and who has no ancient knowledge to share with the leads.  Cas only appeared on screen randomly and left randomly.  There was no guarantee of him appearing to help the boys because ''he didn't serve them''.  And that was fine.  Now he doesn't leave their side, just hanging around like a skin tag.  The character was kept on board way past his expiry date.  Keeping him on board meant that the angel storyline had to be lengthened just to accommodate him.  Now this useless, pointless character is going to be in the last ever episode.  I can feel it.  It was be a sad end but at least, it will be over.  They wont be able to butcher Sam and Dean's characters anymore. 

[artificialqueens]

GRAVITY (Branjie) - Lyonne-dlm & Saiphl

Grav·i·ty /ˈɡravədē/ The force that attracts a body toward the center of the earth, or toward any other physical body having mass. syn.: attraction, attracting force, downward force, pull, weight, heaviness “GRAVITY ATTRACTS OBJECTS TOWARD EACH OTHER.”

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So we are back, back, back again.

Now jumping into the Branjie train with the beginning of a slow burn collection of how Brock and Vanessa started dancing together and never stopped doing it.

We hope you enjoy the first part of the ride.

We want to thank MistressAQ for the beautiful work she did by editing and suggesting for this project.

Also, we wanted to share the song that inspired the idea of this fic. We tried to describe a bit how this happens, but we’re adding the reference so you can picture the whole routine together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=emTePWNepkk

==============================================================

GRAVITY

Juilliard was a mean environment, if anyone wasn’t able to reach perfection, then that was not the place one should be. They both knew that was their last chance. Neither of them really eager to work together.

Vanessa knew she was good, at least good enough to keep her scholarship. Her notes were an impressive parade of congratulations and high distinctions. Except for the one she feared the most, the class that gave her a reputation among fellow students as “the girl who burns dance partners.” With each year her options dwindled and now, in what must be a cruel joke of destiny, she was trapped in an incredibly complex piece with the only dance partner that she could happily throw down the stairs. Both the proverbial and physical ones.

Brock knew the teacher made him dance with her because he was good enough to mitigate the “Vanjie Effect,” but also to break him out of the comfort zone he and his twin sister built around them. He heard for years now the teachers saying “your technique is impeccable Brock, but I feel nothing when I see you dance with Lynn, you seem to be disconnected.” He was screwed, it was too late in the year to find a partner with the technical quality to match his. The only possible partner available, was the one he feared the most. The girl who was literally unable to dance with a partner.

They’ve been working together for the last month and a half. First learning to understand each other, and then, to put up a complex choreography to get the final note for their Pas de Deux class. Truth to be told, they weren’t bad together. They were actually amazing, as if they were born to do that exactly: dance together. What was the real burden, was they had a hell of an attitude issue to each other. Vanessa really enjoyed teasing him, and Brock was more than pleased to piss her off.

They were running one last rehearsal before the actual performance. They’ve been locked in a studio for the last three hours. Vanessa was tired and in need of anything that could raise her blood sugar. Brock, as every other day, was being an ass.

“Seriously Vanessa, I’m not going to fail this course because you can’t jump,” he said, turning to take the remote and stop the music.

“You know I can jump, but I need to have something to eat, otherwise I’ll faint,” she clapped back. Maybe if she had something to eat, she could be less cringy.

“You’re weak.” He said, looking at her reflection on the mirror.

“And you’re an asshole.” She slid gracefully to his side just to put her hand on his shoulder, knowing he wouldn’t like it.

“Let’s do it again, from the top… and you have to make that jump work.” Brock took Vanessa’s hand as if it was infected and tossed it away in disgust.

The music started again. Brock took his position laying on the floor and took a deep breath, counting in compasses. His long body in full display, the defined lines of each muscle showing with the motion. Vanessa exhaled, she hadn’t noticed she has been holding her breath. Vanessa took two graceful steps, bending to blow lightly on his back. His arms, in one fluid motion, are thrown in the air to find her. Their fingers intertwined in one hand, the other Brock had working as support to make her fly above his head.

Vanessa landed on the tip of her toes while he fell to her feet, as practiced. There was something incredibly sensual about that movement, something that made her feel powerful, invincible. He turned up looking for her, a sense of loss on his face. That is, until her hand brushed his bicep while passing by. Brock shivers… and doesn’t understand why. That girl is frustrating, loud, and impossible, but each time they dance, it’s like the world stopped around them, just to see them gravitate to each other.

They’re almost two minutes into the six minute routine when he has to lift her up again. Except this time Vanessa’s ankle doesn’t support her enough to jump and they both fall.

“Fuck! I told you, YOU-HAVE-TO-JUMP-VANESSA!” Brock says, giving his back to her, assessing with practiced ease the motions of his left arm, which held most of the impact of his fall. He gets back on his feet, oblivious to the girl still struggling on the floor, assessing the state of her ankle.

Vanessa bit her lower lip while doing tentative circles with the sore ankle, relieved at being able to move it, otherwise she’ll fail the class by default. A slight taste of blood floods her mouth, she’s been so tense that her body was tired and wasn’t responding as she needed. One last turn to the ankle, a contorted face and a strangled moan, the one that makes him turn to her.

“Are you ok?” Brock asked dryly, finally looking at her and leaning to check if she needed some help.

Vanessa tossed loose hair out of her face. “I am… let’s do this, at least one single time has to be right.” She stands by herself, barely suppressing the sting of pain pulsing on her foot. “One more time Mr. Brightside, then I’ll go get something to eat.” She said, drawing a couple more circles with the tip of her hurting foot and supporting her weight, assessing her possibilities.

“Ok, just jump this time right? I’ll do the rest.” He walked towards her and she seemed to realize how close they were, so she lightly slapped him away. She started walking to her spot. Brock stared at her, unable to keep himself from holding the stubborn girl again while she stumbled back to her starting position. “Do not force yourself Vanessa, we have to do this in front of the jury in few hours, I don’t need you making me fail.”

Vanessa hissed, half from the pain, and half resisting temptation to slap his face. She was nervous too, her scholarship and permanence at Juilliard depended on this performance, and of course, Brock Hytes wouldn’t make it easy for her. “Shut up and play the music… I’m fucking starving.” Brock shrugged turning to the stereo, muttering unintelligible things. He went back to lay on the floor, this time with eyes wide open in case his dance partner fell.

The music filled the tense silence between them, both easily engaging on the fantasy of the choreography. Electricity running down their bodies while the light brushing of their limbs. The steady support of his arms, the natural playfulness of her body, all of it melting in a perfect symphony of fluidity and sensuality. On that soft moment, when they looked into each other’s eyes, there it was, the weird connection that made them fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. Vanessa shivered and Brock stumbled, cursing under his breath. Unavoidably and still dancing, she gravitated to him, taking his time to recover the rhythm.

Brock lifted her up; she felt light as a feather. She was light as a feather. He started spinning, holding her steady by the waist, hungry for the sensation of her hands on his cheek. Longing to get lost on every trace of her chocolate eyes. Detailing all the little things he could see inside, the light green freckles in the iris, and how the white light reflected their color in sparkles of golden. Landing her once more, he regretted letting her go, and she suddenly felt cold without the shield of his lean body.

They kept dancing until the last part of the song came. The little move at the end when they both held hands just to lay them on her cheek. The intensity of the moment was unbearable. He knew he had to step away, to come apart from her, but his feet seemed to be glued to the floor. Vanessa looked at him, confused, still unwilling to be the first to lose his baby blue eyes from sight. He took a deep breath and not even thinking, he leaned and kissed her. It was gentle, soft and unexpected. It was tender but still full of desire and lust.

Vanessa snapped from the moment, breaking all contact, and slapping his face as hard as she could. “What the fuck are you doing you moron?!” She hit his chest with a tightly closed fist. “Do you think this is a joke? my whole life depends on this number and you decide to play the fool?!”

Brock stared at her, wounded and confused. “Now it’s my fault?”

“Yes, it is… you kissed me idiot, YOU FUCKING KISSED ME! this can’t happen on the performance!” She yelled to mask the fact she was about to cry.

“Then fuck you Banjie girl, for once in all your life someone finds you slightly interesting and you react like if you were punched in the gut.” He said, regretting almost immediately the sarcastic tone of his words.

“Well, fuck you then, and you better control yourself on the final performance. I twisted my ankle because you didn’t lift me, and will have to work double if you plan to screw my work.” She went to the stereo to recover her CD. “You better be on time for the performance, or I swear I’ll skin you alive.”

“As if you were good enough to make it up without me.” The bile rising through his throat with those words, he knew he was being unfair. He couldn’t help it. His face felt hot, and not just where she’d hit him. “Better you get that fucking ankle good for the performance, I won’t cover your ass if you stumble.”

“FUCK YOU HYTES!” And with those last words, he heard the door of the studio slam shut. Brock screamed in frustration before he picked his things up and left the place.

The performance was going to be a fucking circus.

Vanessa ran to the nearest place where she could be by herself for a bit. She locked herself in a stall of the dance studio’s empty bathroom. Agitated and confused, she tried to regain composure. Inhale… exhale… inhale… exhale. As her heartbeat diminished, she recalled the scene. The music, the choreo, the moment they got lost on each other. The tension always dense between them getting thicker which each movement. The deepness of his eyes capturing her whole attention and then, the kiss. A kiss she didn’t know she craved, but didn’t know what to do with once she got it.

Her ankle shooting in pain for the speed of her run on the hallway. “Fuck you Brock… fuck you”, she muttered, not knowing at all if her anger came from of him kissing her, or the fact that she wanted more. She wanted much more. Reflexively she put her hurting limb over her other knee, massaging and moving the ankle with a hiss.

Brock was a distraction, a huge one, and if he insisted to do things like that , he would become even more of a problem. She didn’t understand at all how to feel about him, about her thinking of him or about what to do with that damned kiss. Frustrated, she just punched the door of the stall with a very tight  fist. “Damn it!” she cursed when the pain reverberated through her whole arm, tears sliding down her cheek.

“Great… like, great now I’ll have to cope with this too…” she said, assessing now her hand and knuckles. Going to the mirrors and looking at her messed up self, she started the sink and cleaned her tear stained face “You need to get this together Vanessa.”                                

Brock was a whole other story, he couldn’t tell he was mad, he was just confused and kind of aroused. One thing he came to know, was that Vanessa made him nuts. Her loud unnerving self and the natural way she cursed, like it was a part of her; something that made him beyond curious. After the first week working with her, he realized that her biggest trouble was a clear inability to follow instructions. Brock grunted in frustration; he’d been paying more attention than intended in the last weeks, and finding himself aroused after her slapping him was truly fucked up.

He didn’t know what she was doing to him but damn that girl had an effect on him.

Before he could even notice, he had walked the distance between the school and Central Park. Obfuscated he adjusted his bag strap to his back and started jogging. Nothing cleared his mind better than doing some physical activity.  “First of all… she’s obnoxious” he said to himself between rhythmic breathings. “Obnoxious, loud and vulgar”, he added with a huff. Knowing by the word what would his sister, Lynn say, he could clearly hear her voice in his head, reminding him: “and you like it, so stop being a prick.” He sped up, shaking his head both to clear his mind, and to answer to his thought. ”You like her loud mouth” a soft smile spreaded on his lips. “Ok… supposing I like her loud mouth, that doesn’t help she curses like a sailor,” he said under his breath, now trotting to the lake.

“You have to admit it’s charming when she does it,” Lynn’s  voice said, he nodded in response. Reaching the shore of the lake, he sat by the water, finding a fallen branch to play with. “It’s charming, and she makes me feel like I can be me around her. I don’t have to worry about what I say or how to behave, she just let me be.”

That simple admission was comforting, he had never liked the way they have to be chivalrous around all the other girls. Vanessa was frantic and direct, and she never feared to speak her mind out loud. “Well dude, that’s a start, and you can’t deny she’s hot”, he laughed, truth to be told, Vanessa was good looking and the natural curves she had, accentuated by her years dancing made her such a sight for sore eyes. “Yeah, she is hot…” he said, inhaling deeply with images of her delicate frame dancing on his mind. “So… you wanted to kiss her.”

Brock lowered his face, which was turning beet red. “Yes… No… Fuck!” The voice in his head laughed again. ”You want her so bad It’s driving you crazy,” he grunted again, one thing was admitting to himself he liked the girl, and another totally different to say out loud he wanted her. His hands started buzzing with the memory of holding her tiny waist, “Guess I’m screwed” he sighed, clapping his hands together to mitigate the buzzing. “Why? she reciprocated the kiss”,  Lynn’s voice nagged. “All you have to do is ask, if you dare to, of course.”

He rolled his eyes, the sensation of Vanessa’s slap on his cheek still fresh. “If you don’t remember, she slapped me. There’s your answer.” The bitterness in his voice crystal clear, he had never been rejected by anyone, and Vanessa just made very clear that she didn’t want him. Those last words, making his head shut up. The beeping of his watch snapping him back to reality made him jump. Brock quickly stood up, leaving the pointy branch he had been playing with forgotten on the grass. He ran back to the school.

Vanessa was sitting on the bench outside the studio, swollen hand holding the CD, makeup freshly done, and an ankle brace holding her ill foot. She was a nervous mess, and the fact that they were supposed to perform in five minutes and Brock was nowhere to be seen getting her snappy.  Brock sprinted to her, his hair slightly damp from the shower. “I’m sorry I’m late, last minute complications.”

Vanessa looked at him, radiating anger. “Look who finally decided to show up… they’ve asked for you and I had to tell them you were on your way” she said dryly. “You better not fuck this up. If I get expelled because of you, I hope you had your last prayers.”

Brock huffed. “Listen Vanessa, could we please try to do this and leave whatever happened outside?” He pressed the bridge of his nose, trying his best to keep himself chill. She nodded in response, rising to her feet. “Just remember to jump and everything will be fine.”

Vanessa punched him in the shoulder, immediately hissing in pain. “Fuck you Brock… FUCK YOU!”

“Let’s just get this shit show going.” He bent to pick up the CD that fell from her hand. In that moment the door opened for someone to call the both of them inside. The teacher looked puzzled watching while they entered without even looking at each other.

Brock gave the music to the teacher and then joined Vanessa on the dance floor. He laid on the floor taking a deep breath, counting until the music started. In that moment, just like it had in rehearsal, everything faded around them, the music and the choreography flowing harmoniously between them, each motion precise and on point. The soft touches and the eye contact yelling all the apologies they couldn’t tell. When the moment came, Vanessa jumped effortlessly, trusting blindly on the firm grip of Brock in her hands.

He felt like he was high. High on adrenaline and the green apple scent radiating from Vanessa’s body. She felt like she could fly. For a moment, when he was holding her up above his body on the floor, she could picture memories of home, the place where she felt safe and sound. Gravity was non-existent for a second. One last jump, the one when he took her to spin around looking to each other’s eyes and he pictured himself looking at those eyes for the rest of his life. He put her back on the floor, intensely lost in her eyes, a sudden sadness taking over his when their intertwined hands laid them on her cheek. When he stepped away, an overwhelming longing spreaded through her, stretching her left arm to uselessly try to reach him and finally falling to the floor all curled over herself. She didn’t know why, but started crying. Then the music ended.

The teachers’ applause brought them back to the moment, when Brock approached to her stretching his hand to lift her up. He saw the tears in her eyes and made her turn to bring her close to him, giving some time to wipe the few tears that fell down her cheek. He pulled her close to his chest, making her melt on that single motion. Still embraced, they bowed, and then separated to listen to the notes of their teachers.

Most of the comments were praises and a couple of corrections on the execution. The Dean inviting them to keep dancing together, cause what they made on that piece was magic. Finally, they were dismissed and with no words, they went to their locker rooms.

Later, Vanessa was sitting in one of the hallways, waiting for Brock to appear. When he finally came, he was with a couple of friends, they were laughing. The moment he saw her sitting there, he dismissed his friends and bent down, “hey stranger.” His voice as soft as she had never heard him She mouthed a “Hi” that he responded with a smile and stretching his hand to  lift her up.

Once on her feet, she smiled at him “Thanks for not messing it up.”

“Hey! anytime” he said, playful and returning the smile.

Vanessa bit her lower lip, doubting for a second on what to say next. “I… shit-”

He laughed. “I know, but if we’re going to keep doing this, please, avoid slapping me.”

“Who said I want to keep dancing with you?” she asked, curious.

Brock rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Because you’re here and I want to do it. I want to dance with you Banjee Girl.”

“Alright, I won’t slap you if you promise something…” she said, lowering her voice

“What?” he asked, raising a brow.

Out of nowhere, she tiptoed and kissed him, this time soft and tenderly. “Promise you’ll keep doing this.” She whispered to his lips. As an answer to her request, he kissed her once more.