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vulpixisananimal · 5 months ago

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(The characters Wren and Polaris belong to @fungal--wastes and @neoncityrain respectivley)

"Neeeearly there~"

(Isabeau was waiting in front of the homestead, so you decided to try something else. And that something else was breaking into one of the rooms from outside!)

(You were standing on Ramos' shoulders to get into one of the guest rooms on the second floor. You were digging your knife under the rim of a window to cut out the small lock. The rain didn't help, but Ramos was surprisngly sturdy.)

"T-take your time! I really wouldn't want you to fall a-and hurt yourself!" (Mira says, concerned.)

"Ha! Not like that'd be an issue anyways-"

"No!!!"

"H-hey careful, Isa might hear." (Ramos comments. They're right, gotta go quick. It should just be a bit more and. . .)

"Theeere we go!" (You say, smugly opening the window and climbing in.)

"W-what should we do, Siffrin?" (Mira calls up to you. You think a bit.)

"Try not to get touched? Maybe just be a distraction?" (You shrug.)

"We'll figure something out!" (Ramos gives you a thumbs up. You nod. Now, the room.)

(Small room. Single bed. There was a heavy looking pack by one side and a few clothes spread around the floor. There was a small desk with a well worn book on it, and a few papers. The bed was sloppily made, probably by someone who wanted it to look neat but still didn't want it to be a mess. There was a spear leaning against a wall. It was surprisingly chilly.)

(Whos room was this, anyway? Single bed, so none of your familys. Jans? No it would have more stuff, they lived here right? Not that bickering pair or bonded couple, you imagine they would have had a shared room. So that left that traveler.)

(Convenient!)

(You start at the pack, you had to move fast. Looking through it, it had a few changes of clothes, some rations, and a lot of things you didn't know what they were. Although they looked like something Odile would use. Maybe she was a researcher AND a traveler? Ha! Those two would get along. Some of the clothes looked wildly different, though. Fashion too?)

(You look up at the spear. . . Yep, that sure was a spear. Looked sturdy, long, and- dulled? Huh. The tip of the spear was blunt. Maybe it was for training.)

(Okay, then what about the papers and book? You go over to the desk and take a look. The papers were newspapers, a few letters from different people, oh it's research! They were all about the King and Time Craft. Didn't Odile say one time that scholars were really interested in Time Craft showing up?)

(None of the papers had anything you didn't already know about. You open the book.)

(. . . . . . Huh.)

(Flipping through the pages, you notice a lot of things. Theres a lot of drawing of landscapes, and people, and monsters. A lot of them had notes, too. That traveler must have a vivid imagination. There were notes about all sorts of things. Reminders written by the writer. And it looked like they were writing conversatons? Hmm. . .)

(You flip a few pages and stop. There's diagrams here. Measurments. Circles and symbols you didn't exactly recognise. Advanced craft? It looked VERY advanced whatever it was. You tried reading more, but it was getting more and more complicated. Maybe if you brought it to Odile-)

(You jump as a gloved hand reached around and covers your mouth. A second grabs you neck, both were freezing cold.)

"What the hell are you doing in our room." (You hear from a voice behind you. It sounded, very, very angry.)

(Ooooooooh stars oh that's, that's not good. Okay, okay you can deal with this Siffrin. And besides, you can also just try again. You mumble into the gloved hand.)

(Your assailant huffs, and uncovers your mouth.) "Quietly, now."

(Stars, what do you say?!?) "I-I uh, I-I was just looking around."

"Cut it!" (You feel that hand on your throat tighten, a familiar feeling.) "We are not in a mood for jokes."

(You hear the door to the room open and someone run inside, before closing it again. You smell mint. There's a new voice.) "Miss Vixul I- Who?!?"

"A thief, probably." (You hear, who you assume to be, Vixul say.)

"Unlikely, that is one of the Saviors of Vaugarde." (You hear the new voice say the title dripping with sarcasm.) "Although I suppose he could be both."

"N-nope!" (You squeeze out.) "J-just wanting to make sure the inn is s-safe to sleep in!"

"Lying." (Says the new voice.) "Miss if you could deal with this, I have to tend to Polaris."

"How is he?" (Vixul asks.)

"Befuddled still. Whatever is effecting his mind, it's strong."

(Wait!!!) "H-him, too?" (You mumble out.)

(There's a pause, and then the new voice talks.) ". . . Are others being effected by it, Savior?"

(You nod, frantically.) "M-my uh, u-uh, t-traveling companion, h-he, he's not himself right now."

"Traveling companion?" (You hear Vixul say in the same tone of voice Odile would use when talking about you two.) "Big buff guy?"

(You nod.) "T-that's why I'm here. It spreads by touch, a-and, I think you were the last to, to touch him, s-so. . ."

". . ." (There's a silence, Vixul speaks up eventually.) "You've dealt with this before, haven't you?"

(You nod.) "It smells like mint, spreads through touch. It changes your memories, or controlls you, o-or just, looks through them?"

"You do not sound very confident." (The new voice comments.) "But, that seems accurate."

". . . . ." (You hear Vixul sigh.) "I'm going to let you go. You're gonna help us with this, and we'll help you back. Don't even try to fight me, got it?"

"Can do!" (You laugh a little, your heart not in it.)

(She lets you go, you rub your neck and finally turn around to see who these two were- oh, three. The third person was unconscious and on the bed. You assume that was Polaris. The curly haired one was standing next to him. Vixul, was standing a few feet away, having grabbed the spear off the wall. She was glaring at you.)

(You breathe in, and out.) "Good to meet you two~"

(The curly haired one rolls his eyes.) "My name is Wren. This idiot is Polaris." (He says, gesturing to the unconscious one.)

"Vixul." (Says the tall one. Few words, huh.)

"Siffrin." (You smile at them.) "So! What happened?"

"Nope, you first." (Vixul says, glaring at you.) "You broke into my room after all. How do you know so much about mind craft."

"R-right. ." (You lean against a wall. Stars, where to start. Well, hmm, keep it vauge?) "Well, I experienced it first hand. Few weeks ago in Jouvente someone was going around messing with things."

"Details, please." (Says Wren, glaring at you.)

(Stars.) "Well. . . The person who was messing things was also being messed with. After sorting everything out, they uh, actually joined us on trying to find out who started it."

"Really?" (Vixul looked at you with a look that screamed dissapointment.) "That doesn't sound suspicious at all."

"I know I know!! Listen it just, made sense in the moment!!" (You shake your head.) "They still know some mind craft, and if they try anything they know I'll be after em."

"Stupid. If they know mind craft they'll just change your memory so you don't." (Wren retorts.) "You can't be that idiotic, right?"

(You wince, well, he WAS right.) "I. . . Have my ways?"

"There's a way to resist mind craft?" (He tilts his head.) "Tell."

(Stars above. Great. You look between the strangers you were talking to. No way you could bring THAT up here.) ". . . It's personal."

(You see Vixul and Wren give each other a look.)

". . . Fine, alright, how do we undo it." (Vixul asks, looking tired.)

"Last time there was a sort of charm that, once broken, dispelled the Mind Craft. It looked like a star."

(There was a silence as the two of them started thinking. You were thinking, too. Who was this trio anyways? They didn't seem like just ordinary travelers. You couldn't place Vixuls accent, and Wren seemed very. . . attentive.)

"So, what about him?" (You say, asking about Polaris.)

"Oh! Right." (Vixul huffed.) "Well that guy Isabeau, he went upstairs, came downstairs, said hi to me, hi to Polaris, Polaris said he felt sick, started acting weird, and Wren put him to sleep to take him up here. I got here first and found you and you know the rest."

(You nod, following along. So Isa started spreading mind craft after he went upstairs then back? Maybe it was someone up there who spread it to him. Then- wait a second.) "Why aren't you being effected by mind craft?"

(Vixul opens her mouth, then closes it, then looks away.) ". . . It's personal."

(Personal? What would be personal that could- oh.)

(Oooohhh. . .)

(She wasn't writing a conversation in her book, she was writing to herself. She resisted the mind craft. And she did say "we" instead of "I" earlier.)

(. . . . . .)

(. . . . Somehow, this makes you feel less alone.)

". . . Any other questions?" (Wren asks.)

"N-nope! That's all!" (You smile at them.)

(He nods, and sighs.) ". . . Then you should get going. Me and Vixul will look for that charm once Polaris is safe." (It was a very clear message of 'please leave'.)

"Sounds good to me~" (You say, walking over to the door.) "Don't be strangers now! Though, might want to work on your introductions."

"Same to you." (Vixul replies. Rolling her eyes.) "Try not looking through peoples stuff."

"No promises!" (You laugh a little. And open the door out.) "And if you need m- Oh!"

(Odile was standing in the hallway outside the room looking at you.)

(You wave to her.) "Morning, Odile! I was just-"

(She raises a hand towards you. What was she-)

<MOVE>

(You feel your body move on instinct at the sudden screaming inside your head. You jump back into Vixuls room You feel some powerful craft spell in the spot you were just standing-)

(What?!? WHEN did you show up-)

"Oh what now!" (Vixul says, grabbing her spear and standing up.)

"I-I don't know! One of my companions, she-" (What WAS Odile doing?!?)

<Dangerous. A seal, or craft break, or->

(What do you MEAN?!?)

"She's likely effected by mind craft." (Wren takes up a position between the door and Polaris.)

(You see Odile appear in the doorway. She's not saying anything. She's sweating, like she's trying really hard to focus on. . . Something. She holds up a palm again.)

"Move it!!" (Vixul knocks you out of the and takes whatever craft spell Odile was using. She stumbles back.) "Hrrgh-"

"Miss Vixul!"

"I-I'm fine! Hey! Lady!! What's your problem?!?"

"Odile. . ." (You mumble, what, she's, being controlled too?!?)

(But, she, there's no way, right? She's too smart for that! She would have helped so much with this! And, a-and-)

<Enough. You look around the room. Window, Wren, books, Vixul, Odile, bed->

"Leave us alone, please." (Wren says, annoyed. He holds up a paper sign of his own, crackling with craft. You see Odiles spell get caught mid flight by Wrens. Counterspell?)

"O-Odile! What's going on what's, w-what-" (You stumble out.)

"That's Odile?" (Vixul asks, looking between you and her.) "I think she's trying to kill you, bud."

"B-but-"

"Go, Siffrin." (Wren says, preparing another counter.) "We will be fine."

(You open your mouth to protest, but your words get stuck in your throat. B-but, but she-)

<It's time to go.>

(Null wait, I- WAIT WAIT- WE NEED TO HELP ODILE!!)

#HEHEHEHHE THE OCS!!!! THEY'RE HERE!!#wren #polaris #vixul #isat #art #in stars and time #isat art #isat spoilers #isat fanart #siffrin system au #sifstem #isat au #isat siffrin #isat oc #isat fanfic #isat null #isat odile

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littlesmartart · 2 years ago

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(Hope it’s okay that I come in with an askbox and say something). Your most recent NieYao drawing gave me all the feels. I liked the tags too, especially the “what’s your rage hiding” with Nie Mingjue. Even if he’s relatively straightforward he’s not necessarily a simple character, and his whole attitude toward Jin Guangyao especially probably requires multiple essays and diagrams to sort out. So yeah. I liked what you drew and it gave me thoughts.

ah, I'm so glad to hear that!!

oh boy, "what is the rage hiding" is actually a character starting point that I got from @ellethinthewoods whilst we were writing our AU @greenhills-woodtoburn-fic! NMJ is such an interesting character... whilst it is true that in a sense he wears his heart on his sleeve - bursting into tears at the slightest emotion, god bless you wang yizhou for your acting choices - I think he also uses rage to hide a lot, not only externally but also from himself! NMJ is not a person prone to introspection or self-reflection (and neither is JGY lmao but for different reasons), and I do believe he is exceptionally good at duping himself by slapping anger over whatever he doesn't like and pretending like he has no clue there's anything else under it. and obviously this gets less conscious and more uncontrollable the closer to qi-deviation he gets, but this is a tendency he exhibits from earlier in the story, when he is still more or less stable, so I definitely see it as a key character trait.

like, people enjoy hating on LXC for willfully ignoring stuff, but... hello, NMJ also uses anger to do that too???? he deliberately chooses to ignore a whole BUNCH of shit!!! so often he takes one look at a situation and goes "this is my opinion and I have decided that it is objective truth, and if anyone or anything disagrees it will be easier to simply Get Big Mad About It(TM) rather than consider that I might be wrong or whether there are more complicated emotions to address". he does it with Huaisang. obviously he does it with JGY. NMJ is really really good at refusing to see things - only in his case, he is usually refusing to acknowledge things that might refute his negative opionion.

so yeah. not sure where this is going, but I love NMJ's character! I think it's really interesting how he can be both our beloved self-sacrificing, loving, cares-so-much-he-cries da-ge, aaaaand also a big fat stinking pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps hypocrite who is sticking his fingers in his ears going "lalalala can't hear you" when an emotional situation might require something more complex than getting pissed off because feeling angry is easier than feeling pain or remorse.

#nie mingjue #the untamed #ask #eastofakkala #thanks for giving me the opportunity to ramble!!!#NMJ haters can get fucking lost I love this terrible man 😌

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w000ble · 1 year ago

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TRANSCRIPT - FROM 31:39

Tim: I found out that atoms don't look anything like every atom I've ever seen drawn looks like. (Bryn: No, that's complete lies) Tim: They're all lies! Bryn: Yep. Tim: Because all of the electrons are basically everywhere in a big cloud of potentialness— (Bryn: Yes, absolutely.) Tim: —and so it wouldn't look anything like every atom I've ever been shown! EXPLAIN!

Bryn: Atoms are drawn like solar systems because... apparently people who draw diagrams of atoms believe children are stupid. Tim: I would have preferred a cloud of— look, here is a globe, the atom is everywhere and nowhere all at the same time— again, if you'd have told me that, and that dude's crazy-ass name, I'd have been much more interested in science! Bryn: (Cracking up) Ben: To be fair though, it would make it much more difficult to count the electrons when you were doing one of those puzzles about like, 'we knock the electron out and what isotope does it become' so you have to count the electrons and work it out. Tim: Just dissolve it into a cloud and go, 'best of luck!' Ben: Yeah exactly, exactly you just flick one out of the cloud and like (PFBBBT) 'Have a guess. :)'

Bryn: This is actually an important point about science— is, y'know we talked about science being a method of understanding truth, or not, as the case may be. Tim: It's an onion of lies! Bryn: —and a lot of science is lies, because what science really is, is a model of the universe; of reality. It's not— you know, it is not necessarily a perfect understanding, and especially when quantum physics was being developed, where we discovered stuff like: an electron is actually a cloud of possibilities, we discovered that the universe is much weirder and harder to understand than we could possibly have imagined before, Tim: So we stopped trying. Ben: (Pffffft) Bryn: Basically, yes. What we have to accept is that our understanding of the universe is what we call a 'model' and the model is only useful as long as it makes predictions. But the model can also be useful, even when it doesn't necessarily reflect reality. And so chemists, to understand chemical reactions, and to understand things like isotopes or chemical bonding between elements— their model of the atom doesn't need to care about the fact that electrons aren't little balls of stuff orbiting around the center of the atom. (Tim: Okay. Alright.) Bryn: Their model allows them to make accurate predictions of the real world based on something that is not technically true, but— We've talked about the scientific method— hypothesis, test conclusion. If their hypothesis is a model that, in certain circumstances, we can say, 'an atom works like this,' and it makes correct conclusions, then it doesn't matter that the real picture is more complicated. And we do this all the time in physics as well. So you've probably both studied— y'know back in school— stuff like the laws of motion, and you probably had to calculate cars moving around, or billiard balls, or things on slopes.

Tim: I was asked to, I can't claim that I ever did— but I was certainly asked to.. Ben: Probably, and at some point I was asked about Boyle's law, and shown a spring, and I was like 'ah, (unintelligible), I dunno.' Bryn: (Cracking up) Sure. In all these examples, we ignore air resistance. Unless you're studying— y'know, and depending on what age you're studying these things, you may or may not ignore friction. But we know these things from our everyday experience exist, and we know that if we wanted to get super accurate results, we'd have to include air resistance and friction, but actually the results that we get by ignoring them are close enough that if we don't need to be 100% accurate, if we're just trying to make a decent prediction, the prediction is good enough most of the time.

Tim: It's spherical chickens again. ((I think this is a reference to the previous Tim & Ben do Science episode)) Bryn: It's spherical chickens in a vacuum, absolutely. And it's an important joke in a way, because what it says is, 'well, reality is complex and messy as we've already established, and science helps us understand it, but if science is making accurate predictions, that's really what's important.' And accurate predictions are essentially specific to a certain field or a certain test. If I say, 'well if I chuck this acid and this alkalide into a cup together, I don't need to know what's going to happen with every single atom inside. What I need to know is what's gonna end up in the cup at the end. Tim: There's potentially a lovely analogy, I think, from cartography where they say 'the only true map is the exact size and shape of the thing you are trying to map.' (Bryn: Absolutely.) Tim: '—but best of luck taking that on a short camper-vanning holiday in the Cotswolds.'

END TRANSCRIPT - AT 35:45

And you're telling me we're supposed to be more engaged, as high school students, with a model by some guy named Bohr than the QUANTUM CAT BOX guy??

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is-the-owl-video-cute · 2 years ago

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Birds are another example, a bird does not carry fat externally the way a human does. Oftentimes excess fat in raptors will be growing under the ribs almost as much as it grows over them on the keel. This compresses their internal organs leading to strain and organ failure, even in cases where it only grows externally on the keel this fat tends to mean there is not enough muscle on said keel to power flight.

In frogs, fat is stored on segments of their intestines and an excess of it would lead to blockage and other complications.

Alligators, opossums, and several other species store fat in the soft tissue surrounding their eyes leading to a buildup that puts pressure on the eyes and can obscure vision when it grows large enough to be seen externally. Opossums also store fat in their tails which leads to a tail that cannot be used to grasp.

Humans lack these shortcomings. A human stores fat primarily in the stomach, breasts, and proximal portions of the limbs. As long as the fat is external and not building on organs (which can occur with some genetic abnormalities or extreme examples of obesity), the only concern medically would be potential strain on joints. Simply performing a very moderate level of exercise to keep the muscles strong enough to add additional support to one’s joints is generally sufficient for people who do not have arthritis or some other joint issue. The knee is the joint most likely to be affected just because the human knee is put together with duct tape and wishes, but this is not an exclusive problem for someone who is overweight, nor is that the factor putting someone most at risk for knee problems.

A human is also better at carrying fat than most animals just by virtue of being a biped not encumbered by the chest structure of birds. A quadruped with a large amount of fat in the torso will have the strain of that weight carried primarily by the spine. In humans the pull of the weight is distributed between the legs, spine, and shoulders parallel to their strongest point, rather than perpendicular to it. Which is hard to explain without drawing a diagram but I hope the point is still comprehensible.

Though this is missing the point of body positivity movements in general by a wide margin. An animal cannot advocate for its own health, a human can. People don’t mind humans drinking alcohol either, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for a dog or even a chimp to do the same. Body positivity and health at every size are advocating for people to be healthy without focusing on simply losing weight because that is not the core principle of being healthy. If you have cancer for example and must undergo chemotherapy, a fat patient is more likely to survive that than a thin patient because chemo tends to lead to dramatic weight loss and inability to eat. There are advantages to being thin and there are advantages to being fat, and the point of the fat acceptance movements is simply to stop assuming things about another persons lifestyle or health based on their weight. It’s about recognizing that you wouldn’t be disgusted by a person sipping wine, coffee, or soda, and you may not even be bothered by someone smoking or vaping, but a person simply being fat bothers you or you assume they’re unhealthy and unpacking why it is you think that.

If someone is >600lbs and 5’5” tall, then yes, they are going to suffer health problems, but most fat people you see are 200-350lbs, 300-450lbs if they’re tall. The difference of 300lbs or so is significant. Most people you see who are fat are at no higher risk of health problems than anyone else. A fox that’s overweight is going to have a health problem or two by default.

Question: why is it okay for humans to be overweight, but not animals?

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micheswife · 3 years ago

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Confessions

MICHE ZACHARIAS X SHY CADET

Miche finally tells his crush he likes her. That's it

Miche watched her from Erwin’s office as she left the headquarters to enjoy a well-deserved break. The evening sun highlighted her brunette curls, stopping just below her delicate shoulders. It was a shame really, her hair used to touch her waist when she first joined. She was so incredibly shy and anxious back then, struggling to find her place among younger people that were much stronger than her. He remembered back when she declined the promotion for the sake of her happiness. It had been 3 years since y/n joined the survey corps at the age of 20. She was a late beginner, but her analytical skills, a fateful emotional meltdown and a background in research had soon gotten her a place under section commander Hange. Y/n was not good as a fighter, but she was observant, more than Erwin and Hange. Miche could not help but notice her, she was cute after all. She had flaws, just like everyone else, but the veteran soldier was drawn to her in particular. He couldn’t remember when he felt like that for the first time. Maybe it was when he saw her for the first time, clutching a soiled handwritten application and trying her hardest to put on a brave face. Who knows? Who cares? The important part was that he liked her, she did not know and he was not going to tell.

“What are you looking at Miche? “

“N-nothing, Erwin. Go on…”

Miche went back to focusing on the meeting. y/n had already disappeared in the next lane, so there was no point looking outside. The meeting would go on for hours, as usual, veterans had no holidays.

Meanwhile, y/n made herself comfortable near the quiet riverbank. It was one of the few attractions in the little land of Paradis, especially after the fall of Wall Maria. The serene river glowed red under the now darkening sun rays. Y/n had about 30 minutes to draw something, after which it would get too dark. Problem was, y/n had no idea what to draw. So she just sat there, wondering about her life. It seemed self-indulgent to refuse work only to get out and ponder about herself, but she needed it. The chaos inside the headquarters hardly did her any good. She wanted quiet and peace, but what she had right now was just pure loneliness. Y/n had friends, but nobody close or free enough to sit under the open night sky. So she sat all alone over the wall, the cold breeze ruffling her hair. If only there were someone to hold her.

“Bottomline, all of you must prepare your squads for next month’s expedition. We can’t afford to compromise manpower. Pay attention to the weak members, we need them to come back alive. You all are dismissed.”

Miche walked out of Erwin’s office and went straight to his room that he shared with Dieter, another squad leader. He felt tired, as though he knew what was about to come. A lot of action and a shit ton of casualties, not to forget all the rigorous training he was about to deliver on the cadets.

“What a long day..”

“Tomorrow’s going to be longer, Ness.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you will make it through the expedition?”

Miche scrunched his nose at the odd yet totally reasonable question. Him and Dieter served the scout regiment since their teenage years, yet they never quite got used to the anxiety before impending doom. Against his overbearing stress, Miche gave him a positive answer hoping to lift his spirits.

“I will make it out alive, Ness. The most damage I will end up with is a lost limb, after which I will retire and live a peaceful life. Don’t worry.” Miche finished with his signature scoff, masking his true emotions. The shameless, pretentious display of cockiness was all worth the little chuckle from Ness, the most sociable, tender man among veterans.

They made their way to the dining hall after chit chatting and freshening up. Their tables had the usual serving of bread, soup and vegetables. His eyes scanned the place for the owner of those beautiful, crazy curls, y/n, she should have been back by now. He couldn’t see her anywhere. Usually it was so easy to spot her in her corner seat. Perhaps Hange assigned her some work, but he couldn’t risk revealing his crush by asking the overly-energetic squad leader. So he quietly finished his plate, feeling just a little hint of emptiness because he missed y/n.

“Nifa, find y/n and tell her I want her in the lab tomorrow at 6am sharp.” Mike overheard Hange speaking from a couple of tables away.

“Yes captain.” Nifa quickly finished her meal and left the dining hall and eventually the headquarters. Her face made it clear that she had done this several times now and Miche was not surprised. Y/n was often in her own head and stayed out for a long time. Miche just found it unusual for her to stay out this late. It was cold outside, no person in their right mind would stay out past 8pm. He wished he knew what was going on inside the girl’s head that made her personality so withdrawn, but he did not have the time. He needed to draft a schedule for this week’s training and tests for the cadets. Just the thought of sitting in an office doing paperwork with a candlelight flickering throughout the night made him feel calm. He was extremely skilled on the field, but he liked doing paperwork too. His studious side was something only his immediate squad and other veterans were familiar with. Sometimes he couldn’t help fantasizing about sharing his study with y/n. Aside from his feelings, y/n had the brains to draft a perfect test that tapped into all the necessary skills for the next expedition. After all, that was what she had been doing before joining the survey corps, albeit in a different field. Miche stopped in his tracks as an idea struck him. He felt dumb, so dumb. He had drafted so many tests, all by himself, fully knowing that there was someone that could probably do it better than him. Fully knowing that y/n had been a psychology student, and she had perfected the theory subjects after joining the survey corps. He turned around and approached Hange.

“Would you mind if I borrow one of your soldiers for a while?”

“That depends, Miche, who are you talking about?”

“Y/n, I need her help drafting the tests tonight. I think she can do a good job.”

“You are right.. I’ll let her know.”

“Tell her to be in my office by 9;30 tonight.”

Miche left for his office to begin work, he wanted to finish as much as he could before y/n showed up. Because work was not the only thing he was concerned about. He knew exactly what he was doing, it was dubious, but he needed to do it. It was funny how a few hours ago he thought he’d never confess his feelings, but later created an opportunity to do that exact thing. He couldn’t believe himself.

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It was 9;30 sharp, and Miche heard a soft knock on his office door.

“Come in, it’s unlocked, and take a seat before me.” He said without lifting his head.

Y/n made herself comfortable and glanced over three open books and a single page. Miche was writing down questions.

“Alright y/n, I need your help drafting the question papers for tomorrow’s tests. Of course, you will be exempted from actually taking the test as a reward.”

“Understood, sir”

“Good, now I want you to create 30 questions that combine the concepts of formations, weaponry and strategy. Make them difficult, and make sure to base it upon the last 5 expeditions.”

“Alright-”

“You have 2 hours to finish this.”

“Okay..” y/n walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed a heap of books. Miche raised his eyebrows in confusion,

“How are you going to refer to that many books and finish it within time?” Miche questioned her.

“I will, don’t worry.” y/n’s sudden confidence took him aback.

“Well good luck.”

Time flew by quickly as both of them were engrossed in their work, the only sounds coming from the candle and turning of pages. It wasn’t peaceful to be precise, y/n was turning pages with such aggression it made the section commander steal glances at her. She would flip through the pages and write down important points, constantly checking the time as she worked. Her handwriting got messier as time flew by and Miche couldn’t help but notice. He could tell that y/n totally had the plan to give those cadets a hard time. She had a weak, but cocky smirk the whole time, and Miche was just glad that he was not one of the people that would need to take the test. He knew that expression and aggressive handwriting very well. She always wore that smirk while writing exams, and everytime she came out on top. Miche knew she was overcompensating for her sub-par physique and iron-deficiency that interfered with her ODM skills, but that semblance of confidence on her face always turned him on. Her hair was still messed up, she struggled to keep that twisted fringe out of her face.

“Where’s the ruler?!” Y/n asked loudly, shaking Miche out of his trance.

“Wait…” He fished out a ruler from the clutter in his drawer and handed it to y/n.

“What are you drawing?”

“A wrong diagram of the latest formation.” Y/n replied curtly.

“I see.. Good.”

Miche was organizing his drawer after finishing his work when y/n handed him the tests. It was 11;30 sharp. The ink had somehow gotten between y/n’s fingers. Miche went through all seven pages of three extremely complicated tests and shot a glance at y/n, who looked like she was awaiting his praise. She was sitting with her back straight, wide eyed and messy hair. Miche chuckled, and y/n smiled. She knew she had done those cadets dirty with her questions.

“You have a naughty side, don’t you?” “Kitten” , was the term Miche refrained from using at the end.

Y/n nodded with a cheeky grin. The section commander squinted and got up from his chair, towering over her. A faint blush crept over her cheeks as she broke eye contact with him, staring down at her feet instead. Her delicate shoulders now looked tensed up under her transparent, embroidered shoulder shawl. The pile of paperwork didn’t allow him to notice her beautiful blush pink dress. She had embroidered little flowers to accentuate her figure all the way down to her hips.

“You look beautiful in that dress.” Miche blurted out, causing her to blush harder and breathe unevenly.

“Thank you, sir..”

“Look at me when you speak.”

“O-okay..” she slowly raised her head, still not wanting to make eye contact.

“I will be straight to the point y/n… I like you, not just as a comrade.”

“Understood.” y/n was taking quick, short breaths, causing the tall blonde to get on his knees. She had gone back to her timid mouse state and he could no longer read her.

“Are you scared right now?” Miche tried hard to not sound like a creep.

“No, I like you too!”

“That’s -” he began to speak but got cut off.

“More than a comrade, if you were wondering…” she trailed off shyly. Miche kept staring at her, dumbstruck at her honest confession. This whole time he had no idea about her feelings.

"When were you planning to tell me ..?" Miche asked, pulling a chair behind him. He was still leaning towards y/n with an expression of pure shock.

"I… Never planned on saying anything." Y/n's expression saddened as she looked at him with her doe eyes.

"I can understand.". he was telling the truth. The realisation that their confessions were a result of his impulsive decision dawned on him. He couldn't take his eyes off her form. She looked anxious, fondling with her pendant in one hand.

"Do you want to take this further?" Y/n asked with a shaky voice, and his answer was immediate.

"Yes."

She looked straight into his eyes and smiled.

"Can I kiss you?" The 35 year old man felt like a teenager trying to walk on eggshells. The woman before him giggled and nodded in approval, finally lifting her hand from the pendant. She was starting to settle down, although the butterflies in her stomach made it difficult. Miche was about to lean in when she stopped him and got up from her chair.

"I forgot to lock the door." She said naughtly.

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Okay, I really wanted to turn this into a smut, but I am too chicken. 🙈🥺

#miche aot #miche zacharias #aot miche #section commander miche #miche x reader #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #mike zacharias #miche x you #miche fluff #mike aot #attack on titan #snk miche #aot hange zoe #aot hange #aot canon #canonverse #shingeki no kyojin

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ibuproffie · 4 years ago

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1. take notes every time you’re in lecture, and on applicable readings. so many people say that they’re bad at taking notes...when they NEVER take notes. taking notes is like any skill; the only way you get better is with time and practice. once you take notes consistently, you will develop a style of notetaking that works for you.

2. rewriting your notes is valid. i see a lot of studyblrs and studygrams talk about how they never rewrite notes and that rewritten notes are a waste of time. i don’t agree. i think rewriting your notes can be an effective study method, provided you do it as soon as possible after the material is covered in class. not only does rewriting your notes make them neater, which can be nice if you have hard to read handwriting, but rewriting your notes lets you actively review material to solidify gaps in your understanding, rather than passively reading over the notes. of course, don’t do it just for the aesthetic, but i rewrite most of my notes and i’m okay with it.

3. handwriting your notes > typing your notes, in most cases. some people genuinely need to type notes and that is okay too. but most studies show that typing notes in lecture means they’re less effective at helping you remember the information covered. this is because when you type your notes, you’re more likely to copy down the information verbatim because most people type faster than they can write. when you handwrite your notes, you have to pick and choose what to write down because you can’t go quite as fast, and you are more likely to convey the information in your own words. if you like the convenience of digital notes but want to handwrite for better retention, consider taking your notes on a tablet with a program like goodnotes, which lets you handwrite with a stylus. but good old fashioned pen and paper works just as well if not better! i’m a pen and paper stan myself.

4. functionality is more important than aesthetic. you don’t need to own any specific type of stationery to take good notes. maybe you don’t live near a muji store, maybe you like ballpoint pens better than gel pens, or maybe you just can’t be bothered to buy “aesthetic” stationery when what you can find at dollar tree works fine. that’s okay! purchasing specific stationery items won’t necessarily get you better grades. it’s really all about how you’re taking the notes. similarly, you really shouldn’t feel the need to worry about drawing elaborate diagrams, putting calligraphy titles on every lecture, or having the best handwriting when you take your notes. if these things help you learn or motivate you to study, that’s great, but you shouldn’t feel pressured to have “fancy” notes if it doesn’t suit your learning style.

5. for humanities classes, focus on concepts. for stem classes focus on examples. you kind of have to shift gears when you’re taking notes for different types of classes. in stem classes, understanding how to apply the concept is paradoxically much more important than having a super great understanding of the definition of the concept. so if your lecturer is working through a really long example, that’s not an excuse to zone out because you’ve already written down what the definition of the concept is. memorizing the pythagorean theorem is useless if you have no idea how to apply it. for your humanities classes, define as many key terms in your notes as you can if you don’t know what to take notes on. i’m grossly oversimplifying here, but you can kind of think of these classes as vocabulary courses where you’re looking to really understand what the words mean. you can later go back in and add examples.

6. for faster notetaking, use a highlighter, a quick drying pen, and correction tape. fancy gel pens might feel nice, but when you are taking notes in a fast paced lecture, waiting for them to dry so your notes don’t smudge can be a real hassle. i would honestly recommend using a ballpoint, felt tip pen, or quick-drying gel pen as an alternative, even though these maybe aren’t as “aesthetic.” if you make a mistake, go for correction tape over correction fluid, because you don’t have to wait for it to dry and you can write immediately on top of it. if you like to add color to titles or key words, use a highlighter instead of a colored pen, as this is a lot faster than switching between pens.

7. don’t make your color-coding too complicated. i don’t use a strict color code for my notes because it’s not really practical for me, but i do like to add color to their notes, especially when it comes to memorizing specific types of information. if this is a tactic you’re considering trying out, i would recommend that you keep it very simple. try to limit it to three colors max. too much more than that and you’re liable to mess it up and get confused. you want the colors in your notes to simplify them, not make the information more difficult to digest.

8. focus on what the lecturer is saying, not what’s written on the slides or handouts. you’re not going to lecture to read powerpoint slides; you’re going to learn what the lecturer has to say, so if the lecture is going really fast, focus on the things that they’re saying rather than the presentation. this may feel counterintuitive, but most lecturers provide slides/other supplementary materials prior to lecture or after the lecture, and if they don’t, you can always send an email and ask. if you find yourself mindlessly writing down the info from the presentation or handouts and then zoning out, consider printing out the slides prior to class and annotating them with the lecturer’s comments. if they’re good at lecturing, most of the information probably won’t be on the slides anyway. remember, a lecture is a one time thing. you can always get the slides later obviously, this has changed a little in the time of rona because a lot of lectures are recorded for you to watch later, but i still think this is relevant because i don’t think anyone wants to go back and rewatch a zoom lecture because they weren’t paying attention!

9. organize your notes in a way that makes sense to you. you want your notes in a central location when it comes time for that final! maybe you want to have separate notebooks for every class, or maybe one binder or notebook with multiple sections. maybe you want to date your notes or title them so you can remember specifically at a glance what is covered in each section. maybe you want to mark up your notes with page flags so you can easily flip to the most important sections. how you organize your notes is up to you, but it’s important to have some kind of system so you can study them with ease.

10. for notes on readings, summarize, summarize, summarize! if you have readings you want to take notes on, it’s not necessary that you copy down every single fact or key term. this will take forever, and more often than not, you will burn yourself out. instead, try to summarize what you’re reading in your head. try to write every paragraph as one or two sentences. this will force you to put the reading into your own words-active learning again-rather than painstakingly writing down extraneous information.

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trashforhockeyguys · 3 years ago

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Vienna Waits For You -3- William Nylander

A/N: So I think this counts as the start of their friendship? Or at least them no longer hating each other. As always, all previous parts are linked in my masterlist! Enjoy!

The apartment was quiet, save for the sound of the old game she was trying to watch. Frustrated, Avalyn took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes, hoping the screen would stop being blurry if she just took a second away from it. She could very easily be out with some other members of the cast, drinking and having a great night. Or she could be like Jackson, who seemed to be spending a lot of time with various members of the team.

It was good for him though, he didn’t have many guys around him that understood the game that he devoted many years to. She often wondered if Jackson regretted giving up hockey so he could act instead. She remembered his last game, the way he looked so defeated when the buzzer sounded, despite the fact that they’d won.

The knock on her door was enough to pull her away from her little hockey bubble. Maybe Jackson decided to stop by after all. She didn’t bother trying to make herself look any better, after all, Jackson witnessed her looking far worse than this.

William shifted his weight, hoping she wouldn’t slam the door in his face. Especially not after he literally ran to go find ice cream. He figured Jackson’s tip couldn’t hurt. He’d been a dick to her, so he wouldn’t blame her if she refused to talk to him. He probably wouldn’t talk to him either.

He expected to see her all done up, like she always seemed to be, but instead the girl that opened the door was a far cry from that. Her hair was a little curly, but not like she’d curled it, more like that's just how her hair dried. She had sweats on, an old worn college sweatshirt that wasn’t her’s, but maybe one of her parent’s? What really surprised him was the fact that she didn’t have a single bit of makeup on, and she was wearing glasses. He hadn’t seen so much as a single picture of her without makeup on, or with glasses.

“Oh- I uh,” She seemed to stumble back a few steps, “I thought you were Jackson. How do you- how do you know where I live?”

“Jackson,” William shrugged, “He’s downstairs at Auston’s place.”

“What?” Avalyn questioned, not being able to process much of anything.

William smiled almost shyly, “Auston lives two floors below you. Jackson suggested that I come up and try not to be a dick.”

“Are you capable of that?” She regretted even asking the second the words left her mouth.

“I brought chocolate ice cream, if that makes a difference?”

Avalyn sighed and stepped away from the door, pushing it all the way open for him, “I’ll get bowls.”

William wasn’t sure what he expected from her apartment, but he didn’t expect it to be fairly empty. It didn’t feel like a home, more like a cold apartment, half furnished so someone could at least live in it. Even Auston’s place felt more like a home, granted that’s mainly because his mom and sisters came to decorate when he first got it.

“Sorry, I-” Avalyn shook her head, “I’m still trying to get settled or whatever.”

William nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, watching as she started dipping the somewhat melted ice cream, “I get it.”

He eyed the bookshelf, which seemed to be the one piece of furniture that she really put some thought into. There didn’t seem to be any space for any more books, some even seemed to be doubled up. He smiled slightly, there was something human about her after all. He thought back to Jackson saying that she hadn’t been able to be herself in a very long time. Maybe this was a rare glimpse at who she might be.

“So uh- Jackson told you to come up here?” She asked, not really understanding what was happening.

“Something like that,” William replied, “Are you watching one of our old games?”

Avalyn felt her face turn a little red as she handed him one of the bowls, “Well, it’s hard to go to an actual game, no one really knows that I’m here yet. Besides, I can watch more online and I get the option to replay things.”

He looked at her for a second, watching the way she started to eat big spoonfuls of her ice cream. She didn’t seem at all like the person he’d seen earlier today, or the person he’d been told about. Maybe she had a point when she told him that he should at least try to hear her side of the story.

“You said I didn’t know your side,” He said abruptly, “So, what is your side?”

She stopped eating for a moment and took a deep breath, “It’s complicated, and messy, like Shakespearean level messy. We all knew each other as kids, Jackson, Margret, and I. The three of us started around the same time, landed a few roles together and just kind of became best friends. We did everything together, and would’ve done anything for each other. Things changed, Jackson and I did some things to protect Margo that should really stay between the three of us...and I don’t know. She just took it all the wrong way and was convinced that I took Jackson from her, which isn’t the case. But she wouldn’t let either of us explain, things just ended up getting really out of had.”

“So all of this over that guy?” William blew out a breath, “No offense, he’s cool or whatever, but he isn’t worth all of that.”

“She said some things on the record and got blacklisted,” Avalyn added, “Everyone says she’s a terror to work with, among other things. She blames it all on Jack and I. It is what it is. You can believe me or not, I don’t care.”

He looked down at the small coffee table. Notebooks were strone all across it, drawings and neat handwriting covered all of the pages. He noticed the diagram of a rink, along with explanations all around it. He couldn’t help but pick it up and look closer at it.

“So, how much do you know?” He asked.

She leaned back into the couch, “Not enough. The technicalities I understand, the mechanics and how the game is supposed to work. But the lingo and how it actually works, that I’m lost on.”

He smiled lightly, “Yeah, that I can help with.”

She watched as he leaned forward and grabbed her notebook and laptop. He closed the windows she’d been flipping between and instead pulled up a movie. He smiled lazily, putting his feet up on the coffee table, “This is the first step.”

“What is this exactly?” She questioned.

“This is Slap Shot. We’ll watch the Mighty Ducks, Goon, and Miracle later. But to understand a hockey team, you have to at least see Slap Shot.”

“I-” She shook her head and pulled the blanket from off of the back of the couch, “Okay, if you say so.”

“For the record, I still think you might be a stuck up bitch,” He shrugged, “But you were right, I do want what’s best for the sport, and my little sisters would actually fly over here and murder me if they found out I refused to help you.”

Avalyn couldn’t help but smile lightly, just the slightest up curve of her mouth, “I still think you might be a selfish prick, but I want the crew to be taken care of.”

“Then I guess it’s settled.”

A week later, Avalyn found herself sitting at a table with William and other Maple Leafs, as well as various members of the cast. They were all laughing at stories that the hockey team was telling, mainly of things they did in their youth.

As Avalyn sat laughing, she realized that this was more than just a team, they were a family too. A close knit band of brothers. Jackson used to talk about how his old team was like that, but Avalyn hadn’t seen anything like it before. She wasn’t used to a close knit family unit like this, especially given how her parents raised her.

Her notebook was still open in front of her, sometimes she would jot down a few things, especially hockey slang that she wasn’t yet familiar with. But she could say, without a doubt, that she was beginning to feel like she was a part of something bigger than just her. Something that went beyond the crew too. Because they had a whole team working with them too.

“So you two worked it out?” Mitch asked, gesturing to Avalyn and William.

“Uh-” William scratched the back of his neck.

“More like, called a cease fire,” Avalyn clarified.

“Better than all out war,” Jackson joked, “Avey, we’re all going to get on the ice later today, you should come.”

She shook her head, kicking Jackson under the table. The last thing she wanted was to get on the ice for the first time in front of professional hockey players. She hadn’t skated in years, not since her and Jacky were kids. She didn’t want to embarrass herself, especially after she just got William to somewhat like her.

“I think I’ll pass for today,” She said nervously.

The rest of the team and cast kept chatting, while William leaned over to Avalyn, “You can’t skate, can you?”

She felt her face turn red, “I can...I just haven’t since I was a kid.”

“We won’t let you fall, you know.”

She shook her head again, “I don’t want everyone to see me fail.”

“We all had to learn too you know, and some of the guys taught their girlfriends at the last family skate,” William explained, “We rented out the whole rink, it’s part of learning the ways of the team.”

She still shook her head, “You just want to make fun of me.”

“Well actually I wanted to help you, but if I get to laugh at you that’s a bonus,” He explained.

“Asshole.”

“Bitch,” He smirked, “Avalyn is gonna come!”

“Hell yeah!” Mitch cheered, “You can ride over with me and Aus.”

“I hate you,” She whispered to William.

“Yeah yeah, we established all of that.”

But the truth was, she was starting to dislike him less. They talked nearly everyday, sometimes he’d come to her apartment, and sometimes she would go to his. He would send her highlight clips, and ask if she understood what was going on. They would facetime so he could walk her through things, and she even made sure that she could watch his games, just so she could get more exposure to the sport.

It was strange, she wouldn’t call them friends at all, but they weren’t enemies. Truth be told, neither of them knew what they were. But they wanted to do right by the show and by the small hockey community around the world. They never talked about Margot, but William slowly started to talk about his family and growing up in Sweden, and in other parts of the US because of his father’s hockey career. She liked hearing about his life, more than she thought she would.

A few hours later, she found herself sitting on a beach just off of the rink. She had her skates on, but didn’t exactly know how to lace them up, and Jackson was nowhere to be seen. So she sat helplessly, hoping he would find her before one of the other guys did.

“You can’t tie them, can you?”

She groaned before turning to the blond Swede before her, “Why is it always you?”

He shook his head before bending down in front of her, “Give me your foot, I’ll tie it. It’s supposed to be tight, okay? But not so tight that you can’t move.”

He started jerking on the laces, pulling each section as tight as he could, and then loosening some that he felt he got a little too tight. Avalyn tried not to think about how close they were, her foot was caught between his arms, the blade of her skate pushed into his chest. It almost felt too intimate to her. Like her skin would start crawling. But her skin instead seemed to burn with his touch, she could feel her whole body heat despite the cold temperature of the rink.

“How’s that?” He asked, releasing her foot, “Not too tight?”

She wiggled her foot a bit, her ankle felt secure, not limp like it did before he tied them, “Uh no, I think it’s good.”

“Alright, good,” He nodded his head, “Other foot, and then we’ll get you out there.”

“I still don’t want to go out there,” She stated.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” He teased.

“William, I’m serious, I haven’t skated since I was a kid. Even then I sucked ass,” She explained, “I’m going to fall and literally break my butt and everyone is going to laugh at me. You guys are professionals, you literally do this for a living. I don’t know how to skate on a blade that’s an eighth of an inch thick.”

He looked up at her, “I’m surprised you know how thick the blades are.”

She shrugged, “I told you I’ve been doing my research.”

He sat back, putting her other foot back down on the ground, “I won’t let you fall, okay? But even if you do, it’s fine. We fall sometimes too. I’ll even let you use the little kiddie rails too.”

She shook her head, grabbing onto the bench, “I think I’m going to stay right here.”

He held out a hand for her and flashed a big smile, “C’mon Avalyn Bradshaw Kreitzburg, I didn’t think you were one to back down from a challenge.”

“Avey!” Jackson yelled from the other side of the rink, “Get your ass out here!”

She took a deep breath, grabbing William’s hand, letting him pull her up, “Just don’t you dare laugh if I fall.”

“Yes ma’am,” He replied, “You better hold on tight though.”

#william nylander imagines #william nylander fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #toronto maple leafs imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fanfiction #toronto maple leafs fanfic #nicolewritesthings

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seat-safety-switch · 4 years ago

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One of the greatest pieces of civic infrastructure is the humble public park. There, you can encounter all walks of life, from the bird-feeding lady to the illegal ice cream vendor. As of late, with everyone trying to keep their distance from one another, the camaraderie that used to exist at my neighbourhood park has taken quite a few dings. And if there's one thing I know how to do, it's take dings out. I just... don't do it, okay?

In case you've never experienced it, a handbrake turn is something magical. Lots of cars these days no longer come with one, and instead trust a complicated series of motors and sensors to decide when you should have your e-brake on. Most of the time, it's probably correct. One of the specific circumstances which this future-tech arrangement does not cover? Using the skid handle to give your carbon-fibre-bodied, tube-framed Comet a little bit of English as you slide it across a frozen duck pond like a curling stone.

There's an art to attracting a spectacle. Most folks just assume that if you make enough noise, then everyone will turn up to watch it. This is totally false: when's the last time you responded seriously to a car alarm in your community? I know that it has been awhile for me, because my wheezing quarter-diesel Belvedere hasn't stopped believing it was being stolen since the Reagan administration, and isn't afraid to let everyone within a square kilometer know about it. No, what you need is the combination of speed and danger. Think Evel Knievel: yes, any able-bodied, law-abiding citizen could jump a motorcycle over a bunch of flaming school buses, but will they survive? It's in that gap of horror that the real crowds appear.

Drawing a crowd nowadays might be considered to be a sociopathic endeavour, reckless in the extreme. I made sure beforehand, however, to erect a series of elaborate partitions on the duck-pond viewing area, so that no two members of the public could intersect their relative Venn diagrams, if you get my drift, as they got my drift. Together, but apart, they all got to see me do about four-and-a-half burnies before the ice cracked and I ended up having to pump dead koi out of my rear differential that night. They all got something to talk about, though, and that's what the public park is really for: gawping at the freaks.

#mercury #mercury comet #plymouth #plymouth belvedere

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writingontheclouds · 4 years ago

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can't help falling in love (with you)

For full-goosebumps-on-my-arm-giddy-feeling, play Kina Grannis' ‘Can’t help falling in love with you’ (also featured in Crazy Rich Asians) in the background.

You can thank me later.

Read it on AO3 here.

There were many times that Lily Evans thought she loved James Potter. She wanted to say it, to speak it out and let it be known, so the truth was finally out there in the universe for eternity to come.

It did not, however, start like an epiphany.

Although she will admit, when the first time the thought crossed her mind, it terrified her and her heart almost stopped. It was a cold December night, one of many that brutal winter, so it could have easily been hypothermia, she argued in her mind.

Lily was snuggled up in two blankets, sitting by the fire in the common room after hours, struggling to finish her essay that was due tomorrow and trying to not keep snotting all over it. Professor McGonagall had been kind enough to grant her a much-needed extension, as she battled a bad case of flu, but the work still needed to be done. This essay, this particular gruesome monster of an essay, that was making less sense as she prattled on trying to string comprehensible sentences, was finally due tomorrow. She had tried to bite her pride and let Marlene help her, the girl even offered to write it for her as Lily did not seem to be getting better and refused to stay in the Hospital Wing for longer than 10 minutes, but she had not relented. Even under the weather, she had a morality that didn’t let her do that.

Standon’s hypothesis for transfiguration is a law that describes transfiguration for objects that don’t move to objects that can move to help wizards. She stared at the sentence. She did have the morality but lacked the mental capacity to write English, apparently. She closed her eyes, leaned back on the sofa as another sneeze rattled her body and she rubbed her nose for the hundredth time that evening. It felt like she had rubbed sandpaper all over it, it hurt to even touch now.

She was about to crush the parchment in front of her into a ball and throw it in the fire when the door of the common room opened and she heard two hushed voices. She immediately threw the blankets over her head and tried to sink into the sofa and be as still as humanly possible, so the passerby's thought she was somehow a part of the sofa. She did not want anyone seeing her this way, red-nosed, hair resembling a bird’s nest and prominent dark circles under her eyes.

The voices stopped and there was an eerie silence in the common room. Lily, with her eyes, shut as tightly as possible as if it will somehow make her invisible, counted to 30 and slowly peeked out between her blankets.

James Potter and Remus Lupin were standing in front of her with bemused expressions on their faces. Lily did not think that her face could have turned redder, but apparently, it could. And she did.

“Lily?” Remus said, his head tilting sideways. “You alright?”

“Hi,” She managed to croak, after a beat and cleared her throat. Her throat felt sore.

“Merlin’s pants, Lily, are you okay? You looked like your face took a hit by a bludger,” James asked, shock coloring his face, then concern.

“Yeah yeah, I’m okay, just a little poorly,” She said, waving her hand and shaking it off. “Where have you boys been?” She managed to croak and tried to change the subject.

“Just out and about,” Remus answered, and Lily knew that was all the detail she was going to get about their shenanigans. She would probably experience it in person in a couple of days. She bet it involved some kind of an explosion in a very public setting.

“What time is it?” Lily asked, suddenly realizing it should be really late into the night now.

“Half three, I think.”

“Bugger!” She cursed and sat up straight, the blankets rolling over off her head and settling on her shoulder as she set about rearranging her books and ink pots and parchment, as if this might somehow give her the motivation to finish this assignment.

“Do you need help, Evans?” James asked, as he stepped closer and read the topic on her parchment.

“No, no, you boys go ahead with your scheming,” She said, waving them off as she rubbed her eyes to clear them and fought back a yawn. She then sneezed again so violently that Remus jumped. Lily had noticed that he got jumpier the closer it got to a full moon night, which was now just 2 days away.

“Sorry, Remus,” She said as she rubbed her nose again and tried to blow into a tissue.

“Let us help you, Lily. You’re ill, you should be in the Hospital Wing,” Remus said, as he tried to come closer.

“No! No, Remus, stay there, I don’t want you to catch my germs and become ill. You already look dead on your feet.” She said, stopping him right in his tracks. The last thing the boy needed was to be sick on Full Moon.

“You head up, Moony, and get some sleep,” James insisted. “I’m here,” He said with such an assurance that neither Lily nor Remus thought to argue with that.

She sat on the couch and he sat across the table on the floor, crossed legged, opening books, explaining topics, and bookmarking all the important points she needed to cover. There were theories to cover, limitations to write, methods to jot down and conclusions to be drawn. He didn’t offer to write it for her, or dictate her the answers point-blank. In some funny twist of fate, he knew what she needed at that exact moment and Lily was grateful. James also somehow brought a cheese toast and a hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows floating in it that smelled divine, even to her congested nose.

“Where’d you get these?” She asked as he tried to pass her the hot chocolate. She pulled on the sleeves of her chunky sweater as she held the mug, relishing the warmth it brought to her hands.

“I have ways,” James replied, as he bit into his own cheese toastie.

“James Potter, ever cryptic,” she said, and he just chuckled.

At one point in the morning, James had migrated to the couch and was perched beside her, books open in his lap and pointing to the diagrams as he explained another complication of the theory, his hands moving animatedly alongside as he talked on. Lily gazed at him as he continued, the rotten transfiguration theory long tuned out, as she watched the fire reflected in his glasses, his unruly hair pointing in all directions, and his sharp jawline showing a hint of facial hair. He looked beautiful, she thought, almost dream-like.

“Evans, are you writing this down?” Bright hazel eyes snapped at her and broke her out of her reverie and she startled and tried to concentrate again on Standon’s hypothesis. She felt disgusted with herself; when did she become so lovesick? She could have sworn she saw a hint of a smirk on his face, but she didn’t dare look up to confirm.

Lovesick.

Did it mean- no, of course, it didn’t. She didn’t lo-. No, just no. It’s not possible. She shook her head violently, ignoring the weird look James was probably throwing her and finally resumed writing, thinking that it was probably this flu that was messing with her brain.

...

ii.

She came in to find and congratulate Marlene, that’s her cover story, she told herself. Really, she’s her best friend, who’d doubt her?

Marlene had caught a bad bludger to her leg during the match. In fact, almost everyone on the Gryffindor team had. The Ravenclaw beaters, Bill and Luke, had been completely ruthless, both the players attacking and knocking down one Gryffindor player at a time. She had been furious when she saw Marlene's face scrunched up in pain, yelling profanities. Madam Hooch had called a foul, but that had made the two beaters even more relentless.

She had nearly flung herself onto the pitch when the beaters had caught James between them, smirking at him evilly when they sent bludger after bludger at him. He expertly dodged them; James wasn’t Gryffindor’s star chaser for nothing. He literally looked like sex on a stick… well, broom, in this case. But when James saw Bill and Luke flying after Noah who was speeding after the snitch, he had taken the heat himself. The bludger hit on the side of his stomach and then again one directly at his wrist. But James masked his pain as he maneuvered his broom with one hand, desperately trying to block the beaters path, while Noah successfully caught the snitch. The ground seemed to erupt in a flurry of red and gold as the whole of Gryffindor came spilling onto the pitch.

Lily wanted to congratulate him, he was responsible for most of the points Gryffindor made today. But she couldn’t get through the crowd of people surrounding the team. She didn’t even see Marlene in the crowd before the team disappeared back into the changing rooms. She’d already walked halfway back to the castle with Alice and Dorcas when she realized she should have made sure Marlene was okay. But when she couldn’t find her in the women’s changing room, she had contemplated trying the men’s. Not that Marlene would be there, but James might be.

Now that she saw he was barefoot, wearing his quidditch trousers and water dripping down from his hair, she realized she might not have thought this through. He must have just come out of the shower. But that’s not why she’s dumbfounded, unable to draw her eyes away from the sight in front of her.

He was shirtless. Merlin help her, a shirtless James Potter was standing in front of her, wrapping a white bandage around his left wrist. When he finally noticed someone in the doorway, he squinted, trying to see without his glasses. “Lily?"

“Hi James,” She said, nervously as she takes him all in. He promptly put on his glasses which were lying on top of his pile of clothes.

“Hey!” He said all smiles as he continued with the bandage. As if having a blushing female gaze at him shirtless was a regular occurrence. She could see the nasty bruise starting to blossom as he wrapped the bandage expertly, covering half of his palm and his wrist. The sight was somehow so bewitching. When she regained her composure, she realized that he was looking at her expectantly. Merlin’s pants, what did he say?

“Uhmm.. what?” She managed to stammer. Her mouth felt unnaturally dry.

“I asked what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the common room celebrating?”

“Shouldn’t you?” She countered, completely forgetting she came in here for Marlene.

“We took quite a hit today. I just wanted to be alone for a bit.”

“But we won.”

“Yeah, but I need to change my strategy to defend ruthless buggers like Bill and Luke. Thought I’ll think about it while it was still fresh in my mind."

“Oh.” She said, mentally screaming at James to just put on a damn shirt so she can stop looking so confounded.

“That looks like a nasty one,” She added, motioning to another bruise that was starting to blossom on the left side of his abdomen.

“Eh, I’ve had worse.” He said, shrugging it away and sitting down now to put on some socks and shoes.

“I know, last year right?”

“I’m surprised you remember,” He said, looking up at her, eyes lighting up.

“The whole of Gryffindor probably does. You gave us all multiple cardiac arrests.” She said remembering the brutal match with Slytherin last year where a bad blunger caught James smack in the middle of his chest, knocking him off his broom and falling straight to the ground. He suffered from a broken arm, multiple broken ribs, and bruises and cuts covering every inch of visible skin. Even Madam Pomfrey was worried he might not make it, but somehow James had pulled through, waking up 6 days later while complaining about the bricks for pillows they had in the hospital wing that smelled like Sirius’ feet.

He blushed and got up, picking up a towel and running it through his hair. Merlin, he was trying to give her a cardiac arrest again, she was absolutely positive about it. But looking at him at that moment, she thought about warm summer mornings and that she wouldn't mind waking up to him coming fresh out of a shower like this. She blushed at the thought and felt her cheeks growing warmer, as her mind took an unexpected sexual turn.

His bandage had come undone, and he was fiddling with it again. Lily walked towards him, trying to look unperturbed by his shiftlessness. It was really unbecoming of a witch, and she was trying with all her might to ignore it now, while she said, “Here, let me.”

Without waiting for his reply, she took his bandaged hand and started to wrap it properly. She was so close to him that she could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell his shampoo. It smelled of eucalyptus. And mint. It made her swoon. Lily could feel his eyes on her. He was not exactly the king of subtlety, but if he still fancied her, he had kept it to himself lately. Though her hands were trembling with nervous energy, she managed to tie the bandage up securely within minutes.

“There you go,” she said, withdrawing her hands from his, her fingers still tingling from where it had made contact with his skin.

“Uhh.. yeah..” He stammered, looking down at his hand. “Thanks.”

She hums a nod in return.

“Great job today though, captain!” She said, grinning, punching him playfully in the arm, trying to douse the electricity between them.

He returned her grin, blushing again, his bandaged hand automatically reaching out to mess his hair at the back of his head. She realized it’s a nervous gesture, but it came off as so innocent and pure, like a little boy blushing at the thought of his first crush. “Thanks, Lil."

“Now, let’s go back to the castle. You deserve a victory party. Strategize tomorrow.” She said, turning around and walking towards the doorway. She turned back to glance at him, waiting for him to follow.

“Uhh yeah.” He said, picking up his Gryffindor jersey and a jacket, putting it on quickly, and following behind her.

She walked quickly out of the changing rooms and stopped short as she realized it was pouring outside. She really should have brought an umbrella; England’s weather was so unpredictable.

James was unperturbed though, he walked out into the rain, conjuring an umbrella wide enough for two people from his wand, and held out his arm to her.

“C’mon, it’s just rain.” He said, grinning from ear to ear. She grinned back and entangled her arm through his. They walked through the rain together, shoulders rubbing, talking, and giggling.

...

iii.

It was Christmas Eve and she couldn’t sleep. Lily lay awake in her bed staring at the window, tracing the path of the moon in the sky. Across the dormitory, her friends Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, and Jane slept peacefully in their beds, a Christmas stocking hanging from each of their beds. Dorcas was even snoring lightly. Lily scowled at her predicament, feeling jealous of their peace. Then felt terrible about feeling jealous because what kind of a friend was she, really.

This year she wanted to celebrate Christmas, her last Christmas here at Hogwarts with her friends. They’d had a great time; midnight kitchen runs to get hot chocolates now that James and Sirius had shown them the secret entrance to the kitchens, late-night gossip sessions, Witch Weekly’s quizzes that left them in splits, and a few study sessions here and there too but mostly just making the most of the little time they had left at Hogwarts.

She looked at her bedside clock again. It had barely been 20 minutes since she last saw it but it felt like hours. She looked at the new copy of Little Women sitting on her bedside table and got up from her bed. Moving silently, she shrugged on the thickest shrug she could find, put on cozy mismatched socks, and trudged downstairs to the common room, the book hugging to her chest. She scanned the common room, grateful that it was empty but then she spotted someone sitting in the armchair beside the fire, only a mop of messy black hair visible.

“James?” She asked. She could recognize that messy head anywhere. He startled like a deer caught in headlights and looked up at her. She could see the thoughts he was drowning in a second ago ebbing out of his eyes as he came back to the present. “Hey Lil, what are you doing up so late?"

“Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’ll read,” Lily replied, turning the book around in her hand so he could read the title, plopped down on the couch beside the armchair, and tucked her feet up to get cozy.

“Little Women?” He said, cocking his head to the right to read the title on her book clearly.

“Yes, it’s a family tradition. We read it every Christmas.” Lily exclaimed as a matter-of-fact.

Her mother used to read to them from her own copy of Little Women every Christmas. This tradition had continued, without fail, every year. The last 6 years when she went back home for Christmas, her mum, Petunia, and Lily curled up near the fireplace as she read the story to them. Her mom's voice was made for narration. It was one of Lily’s fondest memories of home, she could just picture the 4 girls running about the house. It was also one of the only few times where Petunia and her would get along anymore, they both knew this time was sacred.

“What’s it about?” He asked, walking up to the couch and sitting next to Lily.

“You don’t know Little Women? It’s a classic! Every kid knows about it.” Lily said jumping, mortified that someone didn’t know about the story. Then she realized wizards are not really exposed to Muggle literature. They were really missing out.

“I kind of grew up on Tales of Beedle the Bard, Quidditch Through The Ages kind of thing.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. I forget sometimes.”

“No worries, what’s it about?” He asked again, plucking the book from Lily’s hand, turning it over, and reading the synopsis on the back.

“It’s a story about 4 sisters - Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy and how they grow up after the Civil War in America. It’s about societal expectations, living in poverty, breaking the patriarchy, and all. It’s a classic, in Muggle literature. My mom used to read it to Tuney and me every Christmas by the fire. It’s one of my favorite memories.” She babbled, smiling fondly at the memory.

“Hmm, I’ve never read any Muggle book before. How DO they grow up?” He asks, one eyebrow raised, handing the book back to her.

“Oh no. I don’t give away spoilers. You gotta read it to find out,” Lily said, smirking at him.

“I’m assuming you’ve read this about a thousand times?” James asked, teasing.

“I’ve heard it read a lot of times. Since we were little. I’ve never actually read it myself.”

“Does that count as reading, though? Listening to a book?”

“Of course it does!” Lily exclaimed, offended by the idea.

“I’m only teasing!” James said, surprised by her sudden outburst. “How about I read it to you?” James asked, suddenly.

Lily stopped short. “And why in Merlin would you do that?”

“Dunno. Nowhere else to be, nothing else to do, I suppose.”

Lily chuckled and shook her head, dismissing the idea, knowing he was just teasing her again. She was about to completely ignore his presence now and start reading the book when it suddenly disappeared from her hand.

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.” James enunciated. “I absolutely agree with you, Jo,” James added, before resuming. “It’s so dreadful to be poor!” sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress."

“James..” Lily whispered, putting a hand on his arm to stop him, suddenly unsure of what she was going to say. She just couldn’t fathom that he would that for her. He stopped reading and looked at her.

“You said it’s tradition, right? Can’t have you breaking it.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you one for traditions.” She said, incredulous, with a small playful smile.

“I’m nothing, if not traditional Evans.” He said shyly and flicked her nose playfully. He cleared his throat and made a big show of returning to his place in the book. “Ah, where were we now?”

“I don’t think it’s fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and the other girls nothing at all,” added little Amy, with an injured sniff. We’ve got Father and Mother, and each other,” said Beth contentedly from her corner."

She looked at him at that moment, and she swears her heart actually swelled. Throwing all caution and boundaries to the wind, and ignoring that growing endearment that she felt for James at that moment, she picked up his arm, putting it around her, and snuggled in so close to his side so there was absolutely no space left. She put her head on his shoulder and tucking her head all the way into the crook of his neck.

James, without breaking his narration, immediately rested his cheek on her head, with his arm resting by her waist the book in between them now, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. Like it was rehearsed and perfected between them over years.

He read till his throat was sore. Lily doesn’t remember when she fell asleep. It was probably somewhere around when Laurie and Jo went ice-skating, or when they were both somehow more tangled with each other than before. If she was being honest, she had trouble concentrating on what James was saying. His scent was enveloping her, she could feel his heartbeat through the layers of his sweaters. She tried to match her heartbeat to his, to calm herself down, closing her eyes and letting the warmth of James wash all over her.

She wondered when she had started noticing James; when his silhouette became a little more pronounced in her vision and when he started taking up more space in her mind. It was like little bits of knowledge she had added to her mental James bucket. She knew now that he preferred tea over coffee. Apparently, he did not need the caffeine to provide him with energy as he had enough on his own. She also knew he almost never stood still, his legs would be jiggling, or he’d be running his hand through his hair or fiddling with something in his hand. She knew he got little crinkles by his eyes when he smiled and he was absolutely blind without his glasses and he loved to fly on his broom in the rain.

But in her half-asleep haze, she most certainly does remember a sudden silence in the room, an envelope of quiet, then a kiss so gentle on top of her head as if she was made out of glass so delicate that would crack at the smallest touch. In truth, Lily realized suddenly, that she didn’t mind being lovesick. Especially if it was for James Potter.

She remembers hearing James’ voice one last time before sleep beckoned her.

“Merry Christmas, Lily."

...

iv.

She isn’t sure what made her walk all the way to the astronomy tower that particular night. She argued that it was such a beautiful night and she wanted to watch the stars and get some time alone with her thoughts, but it definitely wasn’t because she might find James alone there.

Though when Kyle Sullivan turned up for their nightly rounds instead of James, she was visibly deflated. She had come to relish these walks with him where he would recount stories of his childhood, his mum and dad, and 3 loonies that had become his family (his words, not Lily’s). So when the 6th year Hufflepuff showed up out of his breath, she was confused. James had apparently needed a night off and would owe Kyle one for this, so the Hufflepuff gladly replaced him. Having the Head Boy owe you one was certainly a great incentive.

She refused to believe that she had resorted to sneakily vying information out of Sirius later in the common room, pretending to be angry, when she actually was bummed. Absolutely not. If he was off trying to pull a prank, Lily as a Head Girl was obligated to put a stop to it and give him a week’s worth of detention and eat his ear off about his head duties.

“James likes to sulk at a certain height.” Sirius had chuckled, not taking his eyes off off the game of wizard chess he was playing with Peter. Lily had just hummed nonchalantly and marched back to her dormitory. After the common room had emptied not half an hour later, she had grabbed a shawl and ventured out. She convinced herself that she was on her way to give Potter an earful for staying out of the tower after hours and that he should not abuse his Head Boy position, but all that somehow vanished when she reached the top of the astronomy tower.

He sat with his back towards her, leaning back on his hands behind him and legs dangling off. He didn’t even turn to look who it was. She was not exactly quiet while coming up.

“James?” Lily said quietly, not wanting to break the silence of the night with her voice.

James glanced at his right for a beat, acknowledging her presence, but said nothing. She stood there, a little discouraged by his apathetic reaction and hesitated. There was once a time when he would automatically perk up when she entered the room, his eyes stealing glances at her throughout the day as if he tried to make sure she was real, sometimes. She used to hate that, despised that attention, but now, she found herself missing it. She sure was vain, she thought to herself. It shouldn’t bother her this much.

When he didn’t say anything for a long while, she turned to leave, thinking he truly wanted to be alone when he spoke.

“Can you believe it that tomorrow’s the last match I’ll ever play on these grounds?” He said quietly, head nodding towards the quidditch grounds barely visible in the distance.

She didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent. Instead, she walked over to him and sat down beside him, legs dangling off the edge just like him. She didn't look at him, just kept her eyes trained on the distant grounds.

“I used to dream about playing for my house team. Just like Mum. She was a beater for the Gryffindor team back in her day.” He continued and Lily finally looked at him. He looked like he was deep in thought, but Lily could spy a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Feels like I blinked and the 7 years at Hogwarts have come to an end. We’ll leave this place soon, and..” He looked down at his hands, the thumb of his left hand now rubbing the palm of his right hand. There was a ring there, with a faint P scribbled in an elegant scroll. “…and childhood’s over. We’ll have to be adults now. I’ve always thought I’ll be happy to leave Hogwarts, to make something of myself and make a difference with the war that’s going on, but right now…” He sighed, and finally looked at her. “I just want to be a child again.” It came out as a whisper. Lily thought she saw the barest hint of tears in his eyes but he looked down again.

Lily had rarely seen James this way. She’d seen him smiling coyly, grinning proudly as they set off another dung bomb, amused at Sirius, laughing so hard that he fell from the sofa but she’d never seen James Potter sad. Not once in the last 6 years and she’d lived in close proximity with the boy. And right now, she had absolutely no idea what to say to make him feel better. She tried to ignore the ache she felt in her heart seeing him this way, but it was demanding to be felt.

Suddenly, something took over her. Maybe she related to how he felt and dreamed about summer beach vacations in France as a child with her family again, or maybe it was an eagerness to see him smile again, that she slid her hand into his and entwined their fingers. Her thumb ran slowly on the back of his hand, and he looked at her, and she smiled and said “Me too.” When he smiled back, she could hear the beating of her own heart like someone was banging a drum in the background, the vibrations traveling to her very bones as the truth slowly and steadily seeped inside of her, taking over the veins and settled in every nook and cranny of her body.

It was like suddenly, something in the world shifted. Like something old and rusted yet familiar finally sliding into place. And suddenly, she wasn’t sure why she waited so long. She had spent almost a year battling her own feelings, burying them so deep and hoping it would get crushed under the weight of the other things in her life. When she saw glimpses of that love, of the potential of loving someone so deeply, it scared her. Because to love someone that deeply also means to be that vulnerable. She’d lost enough in her life and she didn’t think that she could survive losing James too.

But at this moment, when she was looking at him in the eyes, all she wanted to do was love him. So that’s what she did.

Lily closed the distance between them, stopping only when their lips were a hair’s breadth away from each other. She could smell mint on him, hear his sudden ragged breathing. They stayed like that for a moment, breaths mingling and noses touching and she waited as if asking for his permission. James put one hand on her cheek and pulled her towards himself, their mouths finally colliding.

And it was glorious. Kissing James Potter felt glorious. It felt so natural to be doing so that she wondered why didn’t she do it before. She could have saved herself a lot of sleepless nights and mental arguing that nearly drove her crazy.

When they finally broke apart, James chuckled, blushing, and said, “I was waiting for you to do that..”

#james and lily #James Potter #Lily Evans #james and lily fanfiction #jily #jily fanfics #jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #jily fic #writingontheclouds #james potter and lily evans

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with-love-anu · 4 years ago

Text

For anyone who might be giving class 10 ISC, there are a few things I learnt that I found really helpful for me to score well- so I thought I’d share!

For Chemistry:

Make a list of important reactions (you can ask your teachers to help you know which ones are asked very frequently) and divide them into two segments: Organic and Inorganic.

Print them with just the reaction half.

Do them daily. Yes, daily. It’ll take around 45minutes in the beginning but it’ll slowly boil down to 15-20 minutes. Do them and then check how many you get right. I promise there will be a time where you’ll be able to do them all without error.

Always, always do previous year’s paper. And as frequently as possible. Go through the analysis. Get a teacher to correct your papers the way they’re done in the final exams. You’ll find you might be losing marks in “keywords”. Practice to write them along with them.

For Physics:

I don’t have major suggestions for this- except to do derivations thoroughly, practice diagrams and learn up the keywords.

LEARN THE KEYWORDS

Always make sure you write you answers in points, mention formulas in case of numericals

Do previous year’s papers.

For Mathematics:

It’s all in how you write the answers. You might know everything- but you would still score lesser. Write down the formulas. Ask a teacher to tell you how to ‘present your answer’.

Practice. Practice. Practice. Get as many sample papers as you can- done. Just like you’d do in the final exam. Put a timer and do it.

For Biology:

I used to suck at this. A lot. Then I tried out something that helped me score in 70′s out of 80. What I did was that I read the chapter (leaving out nothing- I know kinda boring but I did this with utmost attention) thrice. Yup, three times. After this I took out a notebook and jotted down everything as if explaining to a child. Drew diagrams along with it.

Biology is a “ratta” subject. You gotta find a way to feed your brain that info. When you get all that done, do the previous year questions. And the ones given at the end of the chapter.

For English:

Do those exercises given in each chapter. Do them and get them checked. It’s the only way to crack language.

For essays- choose 2. Choose any 2 types of essays and practice writing them whenever you get the time. This list is your god, use these words.

For Literature: Please please please go through the text very carefully and understand everything thoroughly. Write down character discussions and get the workbook if you can. Practice it. If you can’t write the whole answer just scribble down the points you’d include in it.

Make sure the number of points you’re writing to support your answer is equivalent to marks in the question. If the question is 2 marks, there must be atleast 3 points to include- 4 to be safe.

For History // Civics // Geography:

Okay, so these are “ratta” subjects. You gotta write down and practice. You have to. Because you might think you’re done with everything- but you can only be sure when you actually write things down.

Do previous year’s papers. I cannot emphasize more on this point.

For maps, draw them. As many times as you can. I remember doing them all 20 times each.

For topography: it’s simple to understand but overrated. Don’t complicate it. Understand it slowly and ask as many doubts as you have!

Always, always, always write your answer in points. The no. of points must be equivalent to the no. of marks.

For Computers:

Understand coding. Please do this one. Practice all questions, yes all- including optional ones at least.

Do previous year’s papers.

Get proper notes: You don’t have to learn everything- no. Do only from notes you might have or a source you trust. Here is the one I used.

General:

Presentation matters. A lot. Make sure you leave as much space between answers as you can.

If you have a messy handwriting- try to leave more space between words.

And I guess this is it! I hope it helps, it surely helped me score my best. Remember to relax, take a deep breath. Everything will be okay. You’ll do well.

#ISCE #some tips and suggestions

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sevens-evan · 4 years ago

Note

Glimbow for prompt 1?

1. soulmates au

this is just happiness which is So rare for me omg...i think this is the first prompt i’ve written for spop that’s escaped the angst. this is that soulmate au where if you write on your skin your soulmate sees it. it also kinda reads like a headcanon instead of a fic but that’s okay

Bow draws diagrams. He has since they were little kids, since before Glimmer even met him. Little sketches on his arms, outlines for machines he hasn’t built yet or complicated electrical circuit diagrams that Glimmer can’t make heads or tails out of. He takes notes, too: he used to do it in war meetings, when there was still a war going on. Glimmer would give a presentation on the Rebellion’s next moves, and then go back to her room and find her arms covered in Bow’s cramped handwriting, detailing her own plans.

Once in awhile, he’ll copy down a poem. He grew up in a library, after all; he reads a lot, and while poetry has never quite made sense to Glimmer, she loves finding it unexpectedly. He does it on purpose these days. When one of them has to leave Bright Moon for some reason, she’ll wake up alone and find a love poem on her arm. Before now, though, it wasn’t on purpose. Glimmer would find poetry on her arms and feel sparks of jealousy, wondering who else was making Bow feel enough to scrawl it out on his skin.

The thing is, Glimmer has never written anything. As a child, she simply didn’t care to. She was happy in her life at Bright Moon, she didn’t need to add anyone else. After Micah disappeared, it had been a matter of rebellion. A universe that took her father away didn’t deserve her cooperation in its little game of soulmates.

And then Bow came to Bright Moon, and Glimmer knew. And then the only thing holding her back was fear. She’s never heard of someone not loving their soulmate, but she was scared all the same. She used to think she was difficult to love, and she didn’t want Bow to love her because the world said so. She wanted him to love her because he wanted to.

Turns out, she didn’t need to worry. The first time Bow took off her shirt and found the little heart he’d drawn that morning on her collarbone, he had cried because he’d been so glad it was her.

That was three years ago, and Glimmer still hasn’t drawn a thing. She doesn’t always have the easiest time expressing herself with words, and the written word is no different, even if it’s on her own skin. It doesn’t matter, though. Bow has never asked her to write, and she’s never felt like she needed to. She doesn’t need the universe to tell her she loves him. She can show him all by herself.

#glimbow #glimmer #bow #spop #my fics #fic: glimbow #thatshipperbitch #answered

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alfwriteshizz · 3 years ago

Text

Iplah

Graverunners (original content) // short story: 3188 words // trigger warnings: explosion

A master Glyphmancer struggles to complete her magnum opus.

---

Three days was a long time to stare at a rock.

Iplah, House Glyphmancer, had earned her royal commission figuring out how to use objects to bridge the gap between the physical world and the unseen. She had spent half a lifetime glaring at stones like the one that sat on her workbench, surrounded by errant papers, formulas and theories, figuring out how to bind glyphs to them without overloading them with power.

Never before had she been given such a daunting task.

The stone that sat before her was a small, slightly oval-shaped one. It looked far too grey and bland to be the cause of all her troubles. It had earned its name not for its looks, but for its unique structure that made it far more resilient when dealing with glyphs. Yiralich. Translated, it meant, ‘living rock’. If there was anything this size that could accommodate a mind glyph, the most complicated and dangerous type, it would be one of these.

The fragments of her last attempt still littered the room - thick shards of murky clear rock, swimming in the flickering candlelight. Using glyphs for illumination was effective, but often interfered with Iplah’s work. And she had enough interference coming from her own head.

She slumped back, massaging her temples just beneath her angular horns, surveying her lack of progress. She needed a breakthrough. And a rest. She had been working for far too long.

She felt the last vestiges of concentration slip from her mind as she hauled herself to her feet, pulled on her Glyphmancer cloak, and pushed open the door.

And was greeted with the sight of a soldier clad in full armour standing to attention, one gauntleted arm raised to knock on the door.

The other held a plate with a roll from the kitchens.

“Flint? What are you doing here?” Iplah asked, leaning against the doorway and stifling a yawn. The soldier gave a mock salute in response.

“Thought I’d bring my best friend some grub. Consider it a reward for finally cracking the stone.”

“I don’t know about reward, Flint.” Iplah sighed, taking his plate and leading him back into her study, opening a shutter and letting light flood into the small room.

“Although I guess I have ‘cracked’ the stone.”

Flint whistled, surveying the state of the room. And the shards of Yiralich scattered across it.

“That bad, huh?”

Iplah drew up her workbench chair, settled herself down and started devouring the roll. “Worse,” She muttered between bites. “I can’t find a way to begin to bind the glyph to a Yiralich without a critical loss of integrity.”

“Hence the exploded rock.”

“...Hence the exploded rocks. I tried more than once, you know.” She looked at the roll in surprise. “This is good.”

“It’s what fresh food tastes like.” Flint said, finding a chair and sitting down across from her. “You know, when you eat food when it’s meant to be eaten. Not a day later.”

“You’re one to talk, ration boy.”

Flint shrugged. “Hey, that’s not fair. I don’t have constant access to a kitchen three floors down from me when I’m on assignments. You have no excuse.”

He leaned forward. “And between you and me, that’s ration Captain. I didn’t spend seven years eating stale bread on the frontlines for nothing, you know.”

Flint had served his house as long as Iplah had served hers - though relations between Reknas, the house of blades, and Luneas, the house of Glyphs, were never particularly warm, the two had remained firm friends through Flint’s postings and Iplah’s projects.

Flint looked over at Iplah’s equations, his eyes glazing over slightly as he scanned the glyph placement charts. “I don’t envy you, Iplah. This stuff looks hard.”

“Harder than military work?” Iplah asked, surprised.

“It’s all about working the problem, Iplah,” Flint explained, slouching in his chair slightly. “You get a problem here, you do equations, try to reason with it. You get a problem on the battlefield, you just stab it. Not much strain in the brain department.”

Iplah chuckled softly. “I guess.” She glanced over at the stubborn chunk of Yiralich. “Sometimes I just want to stab that rock.”

That simple statement echoed around her skull like a crackle of static electricity, before realisation ignited like a thunderbolt in her mind. She dropped the half-finished roll onto the plate, swallowing a slightly too-big chunk with a start, standing abruptly. Flint started.

“Iplah? You alright?”

Iplah made a noise halfway between a grunt and a choke. Flint handed her his canteen, which she accepted with as much grace as she could manage. A few gulps of water later, she was looking over her notes with a newfound frenzy.

“Iplah?”

“Why shouldn’t I stab the rock?” She asked, aggressively shuffling through papers.

“Uhh... are you asking me?” Flint asked, regarding his friend. She barely noticed him. Her brow was furrowed and water and crumbs speckled her chin, but there was a spark in her eyes that frightened Flint more than any skirmish.

She finally found the sheet she was looking for hidden in the shivering pale mounds, and slammed it down in front of her. A diagram of the composition of the Yiralich stone.

“The glyph won’t bind because it’s incompatible with the stone’s core structure. But if I were to alter that structure, the glyph might be stable enough during fusion to permanently bind to the stone...”

She scratched a calculation directly into her desk with a sliver of pencil, before scrawling a crescent shape into the diagram of the stone. She looked up at Flint with an expression not unlike ones he had seen on bloodlusted soldiers.

“Do you have your blade with you?”

“What kind of question is that?” Flint asked, holding out his sword, held safely in its ceremonial sheath. “I never leave my quarters without it-“

Iplah snatched the blade, stumbling slightly as she realised how heavy it was. Flint helped her haul it onto a relatively clear section of her workbench.

“What are we-“

“I need to bind some glyphs to your sword.” She paused, looking at Flint. “Can I bind some glyphs to your sword?”

Flint’s puzzled expression gave way to a grim resignation. He had been hoping the days of Iplah experimenting glyphwork on his weapons were over.

“I’m gonna need it back, if possible...”

“No promises.” Iplah grinned, pulling on a pair of goggles and passing a spare to Flint, who hurriedly pulled them over his eyes, managing to avoid tangling them on his horns. She opened a drawer and pulled out her gauntlet, slipping it over her hand and flexing the fingers as the back began to glow with a pale green light, glyphs of power and focus beginning to glow on the back of its palm.

Glyphmancers differed in the ways they preferred to apply glyphs. Some used augmented implements similar to brushes or even weapons, stroking or slashing their glyphs into being. It varied from set to set and from culture to culture. Iplah preferred the organic feel, tracing glyphs with her fingers. It felt right to her.

She slid the blade out of its sheath, flared her gauntlet with another flex of her fingers, and set to work, hunched over the blade, her finger swathed in light as she began to trace a simple set of glyphs into the blade’s surface.

“The crescent draws forth power...” Iplah breathed, finishing her first curved glyph just above the blade’s guard. She traced another a few centimetres above it, flowing from the first.

“Which is channelled into sharpness...”

the edge of the blade shone. Iplah drew a final glyph from the second, flowing along the curvature of the blade and finishing as it did.

“...which, finally, is stabilised.”

The glyph faded, faint wisps of moisture trailing from its edges. Iplah hauled the sword upright, checking the blade. On the other side of the metal, the glyph was there in reverse.

“This is what we call a perfect bind - the glyph imprints itself on both sides. It’s one of the first glyphsets we learn.”

“Neat.” said Flint, raising his goggles and trying to hide the astonishment in his voice. No matter how many times he saw Iplah do it, Glyphtracing always made him feel like a kid again. Maybe that was why she insisted on explaining every step to him. And why he let her. “So, can I have my sword back now?”

“Sure.”

“Wait, really?”

“Of course.” Said Iplah, motioning to the blade. “She’s all yours.”

With more than a little relief, Flint picked up his blade, paused for more than a few moments to admire the glyphwork, and went to return it to its sheath. Iplah put her hand on the pommel, however, and Flint paused.

“But before you put it away, I need you to do one more thing for me.”

—

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Flint was standing blade at the ready, the business end pointed towards the Yiralich stone bolted in place on a relatively clear section of floor. Iplah was a short distance away, edging closer to her desk should she need to hide behind it.

“It’s a complete shot in the dark, to be honest,” Iplah replied. “But I’m out of options. And you’re the self-proclaimed stabbing expert.”

“So what do I do?”

“I’ve marked a triangular shape at the very top of the stone. Do you see it?”

Flint saw it.

“I need you to cut through that notch, right through to the other side, carving out the shape.”

“You want me to run through a rock?”

“I want you to run through a rock with a unique elemental structure so you can alter that structure slightly.” Iplah explained. “It’ll concentrate more unseen density towards the face of the glyph site, which means I’ll be able to-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. Are you sure we shouldn’t get someone qualified to do this? Someone who knows what they’re doing? I’m just a soldier.”

“It’s all about working the problem, Flint. I work things out with equations, and you hit things with a sword. We can do this.”

Flint held his blade a little more tightly, the glyphs flowing down its side, pointing towards the rock.

“Okay.”

He drove the blade into the stone with all the force of a soldier who was very good at his job. At least, he rammed the ceremonial sword down with all the intention of doing just that. The problem came when the steel met the rock. And abruptly stopped with a underwhelming clang.

Luckily for Flint, the awkwardness of the moment only lasted a few seconds. As he cleared his throat to ask Iplah what to do next, the glyphs on his blade hummed to life, with one of those sounds that you felt rather than heard.

The blade began to sink steadily into the stone, a thin trail of smoke emerging from the deepening cut and mingling with the dust and sunlight in the air. It smelt to Flint like how metal tasted.

Eventually, the blade thudded through to the floor. Careful not to increase the pressure on the blade, Flint began to guide it round the stone, following the shape Iplah had calculated.

A few more moments later, his blade skidded out the other side, and the stone had been cut into two rather neat pieces. The runes on his blade steadily faded back to a dull steel, the thrum of the metal slowly petering out. Condensation dripped from the tip of the sword.

“Did it work?” He asked without turning round. He felt that the moment had been somewhat underwhelming - he had expected sparks to fly or the runes to glow just a little bit brighter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Iplah cautiously making her way over to have a look.

“Looks like it.” She replied, stashing the unneeded part of the stone and pulling a sheet of paper from her Glyphmancer robes.

Although, when he saw it, Flint felt that calling it paper was somehow a disservice. Parchment seemed more appropriate - it seemed to fit the sense of raw power that his senses insisted were coming from that flat sheet.

Then he saw the design that Iplah had mapped upon it. It was a glyph alright, but not like any he’d ever seen before. It was symmetrical, and seemed to get more and more intricate the longer he looked at it. At its very centre was a semi-circle facing downwards - Flint couldn’t escape the sensation that it was a closed eye.

Iplah saw his gaze and explained. “This is a mind glyph. One of the more complicated glyph combinations out there.” She knelt down before the bolted stone, which was now oval-shaped with a point at one end, holding the parchment over the top.

“I can’t draw this glyph directly into the stone. One imperfection could shatter it, or worse. So I did it on something more mundane, like paper, to make sure I could focus on getting the glyph perfect without worrying about something exploding in my face.”

She looked up at Flint through goggled eyes. Although Flint couldn’t see them, he could make out the grim slash of her lips below. “You might want to stand back. I’m about to transfer the glyph to the stone.”

Flint obligingly took a few steps backward, ignoring the instinctual urge to protect his friend. She knew what she was doing. He didn’t.

She held her gauntlet with fingers outstretched over the paper (parchment?), flared it once more, and began to slowly turn her hand clockwise. A few errant sparks flicked from the sheet. It began to rise into the air, as though held between two magnets. Then a sound quite unlike anything Flint had heard before filled the air. Although he didn’t know it, it was the cries of the individual atoms of the paper being forced to give up the glyph binding. He didn’t know about all that, but he could feel the quantum pain slicing through the air, and it sent a shiver down his hardened, shiver-resistant spine.

The sheet began to drain of pigment as the rune leapt the gap through the unseen world. The stone began to shudder and hiss.

Flint felt that the image was somehow wrong. His brain, surprisingly, accepted everything it was seeing, but felt as though it should be taking place in eerie blackness, not the dull light of the morning, with pale glyphlight struggling against dust and sunlight. Iplah’s face was cast in lines of sleep, not the impossible forces she was wielding as she bent the universe to her will.

Then it was over. Iplah cast the blank sheet aside, where it promptly disintegrated into pale grey ash. For a moment, Flint saw only the stone: blank, grey, uninteresting. Then the glyph flared to life across its surface: a brilliant white that somehow outshone the sunlight. Even with their goggles, Iplah and Flint reeled. Flint felt his ears pop, and tried to peer at the stone and shield his eyes at the same time.

“It’s almost bound...” Iplah muttered, inching closer. “Come on, just a bit longer...”

Crack.

To say the stone shattered would be a gross understatement to the point of sheer inaccuracy. The stone exploded into infinitesimally small pieces, mingling with the dust and leaving a faint afterimage of the glyph hovering in the air and on the inside of Flint’s retinas.

They waited for a little while. When her ears finally stopped ringing, Iplah pounded the floor in frustration. “Ked’am.” She swore. “I really thought I had it that time. I guess not.”

Flint patted her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way, blinking several times a second. “Good explosion, if that’s any consolation.” He helped her up. “Now let’s get you something proper to eat.”

They made their way to the door, leaving a room full of smoke, dust, crumbs and failure.

Iplah had just touched the doorknob when it happened. Flint felt something in the room behind them - his soldier’s sense, instincts from years in battle. He glanced over his shoulder, not knowing what to expect.

His eyes widened. He reached out and grabbed Iplah’s shoulder. “Iplah...” he breathed.

Iplah turned, and her question died on her lips as she saw what was happening.

An image was flickering to life on the floor, directly above the blackened mark where the stone had exploded. After a few seconds she realised it was the mind glyph. The one she had drawn with her own hand.

It flared to life, hovering in the air, light smouldering from its edges.

Flint felt his teeth clench in his mouth. He felt drawn to that point. With a start he realised that he was being drawn to it. His soldier’s braid lifted like a crooked finger, pointing towards the singularity on the floor.

“Flint...!” Iplah breathed. He turned and saw Iplah’s Glyphmancer robes trailing towards the point, hovering in a phantom breeze. She caught something in the air, lifted her goggles, and looked at him with eyes filled with wonder.

“Look...!”

He looked and saw a speck between her thumb and forefinger. And saw countless others flitting through the air around them. At first he thought they were dust particles. But then he saw them coiling together to form slick grey strands as they passed through the pale sunlight. His eyes turned to where they were trailing, and he understood.

The stone was rebuilding itself. Piece by minuscule piece. Flint stood, mesmerised, as molecules of matter flitted from his hair, his horns, his clothes, peeled themselves from the walls and roof, from the furniture. Ranks and ranks of rock shards marching themselves back to when they were whole.

And before his eyes, Flint realised that the stone that had appeared on the floor was almost as it was. Iplah let the speck between her fingers go, and it bobbed down, settling into place and vanishing like snow falling onto water. The glyph flared one final time, like a predator yawning after a meal, and faded into blackness. And all of a sudden the room was back to normal, dust dancing in the shafts of golden grey sunlight, the only sign that anything remotely out of the ordinary had just occurred the black explosion mark beneath the stone and Iplah and Flint’s stunned breathing.

Eventually, Iplah summoned the courage to slink over to where the stone lay bolted to the floor. She tenderly unscrewed it from its casing, and held it, reverently, between her fingers. Bearing it aloft into the blue daylight.

The mind glyph was emblazoned just underneath the surface of the clouded rock, winking up at her. With trembling fingers, Iplah turned it over.

And saw the same glyph imprinted in reverse on the other side. Identical. A perfect bind.

She had done it.

Only then did Flint let out a roar of victory so sudden and so joyous that Iplah nearly dropped the culmination of her life’s work.

#writblr #writers of tumblr #original fiction #oc #alfs-oc #graverunners #tw explosion

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