#text selection seems imperfect but

[incohearent]

Downloading a webpage for reading in Okular (example) (Ubuntu)

1. sudo apt-get install okular 2. sudo apt-get install wkhtmltopdf 3. sudo apt-get install pdf2djvu 4. wkhtmltopdf -n -g https://boilingsteam.com/how-to-bridge-discord-in-matrix/ how_to_bridge_discord_in_matrix.pdf 5. pdf2djvu how_to_bridge_discord_in_matrix.pdf > how_to_bridge_discord_in_matrix.djvu

[my-deer-friend]

I’ve read something interesting about Martha Laurens (John’s sister) that once she had a really mean teacher throw away her doll by the window and she cried every time someone mentioned the teacher’s name, and her response being asked why she cried she would answer that because of Nelly's death.

I come across with this in the book “Memories of Martha Laurens Ramsay” by David Ramsay, but in one version, in the others I do not saw any record like this, can you help with advice how to use historical sources like this, because there are two versions and I do not know how to interpret this. 

this is the second edition^

this is the first one^

This is such a great question, and it really goes to the heart of what makes historical research both fun and frustrating.

When working with written historical sources, we must put aside the idea that we can ever find "the truth". Not only do people lie, but they also forget, misremember, have imperfect information, misunderstand, and so on. But that doesn't mean that the written sources are necessarily wrong. Here's how I'd go about thinking over this case.

1. Evaluate the quality of the source

By "quality" here I mean the historical accuracy or truthfulness, though there are other lenses you could use in different contexts. I first want to know how reliable and accurate in general the source is.

What? This text is a biography, published publicly, by the husband of the subject.

Who? David Ramsay was Martha's husband. That both means he had privileged access to her life story and documents and that he had reason to put a positive spin on her character and actions.

When? The book was published posthumously, but fairly soon after Martha's death. But that means there was no chance to fact-check the text with her, and even three years after someone's death is a lot of time for memories to get muddled and changed. So we can say the narrative is evidence of what Ramsay remembered (and decided to include) rather than what Martha actually experienced.

Why? The goal in publishing this work seems to be a heartfelt attempt to memorialise the life and religious views of a beloved spouse.

Overall, I think we can say the book is a reasonably factually accurate but highly selective source on Martha's life, highlighting her positive traits and leaving out large swaths of her story. For this part in particular, I can see no reason why Ramsay would have made it up himself; it's a trivial detail and doesn't add much to his agenda.

2. Cross-reference with other sources

The next thing we can do, having judged the source to be not-super-accurate, would be to find other (hopefully more sturdy) sources to cross reference. I highly doubt that anything like this still exists, but it's always great when you can find two completely unrelated people saying the same thing.

3. Interpret the reason for the change

The core of your question, if I can restate it, is "why is the story included in the first edition, and not the second?". This is different to asking whether the story is true (which is something we can never know). There are several reasons that occur to me off the top of my head for why the text would be edited between editions:

Ramsay realised the section was inaccurate and asked for it to be cut

Ramsay wanted the section removed for some personal reason (it was a painful memory, it was a private moment, he realised it was embarrassing or created a bad impression of his wife)

The publisher asked for that story specifically to be cut for some reason

The publisher reqested the text to be shortened and that's the part Ramsay decided to remove

Ramsay revised the book for the second edition and removed it for editorial reasons – maybe it broke the flow, or seemed too trivial, even if it was "true"

To find out what happened, you could look around to see if David Ramsay wrote any letters about this (e.g. to the publisher or to someone in Martha's family), or even just check the foreword to the second edition to see if there are clues about why parts were changed.

4. Decide how to use the information

Having done all that, we're left to decide how to proceed, which depends on what we need to do with this info. The first step is to define the assumptions we have made.

My assumptions (and yours could differ) are: it's quite possible the anecdote is based on something Ramsay remembers Martha saying, and therefore might be true, or at least true to the family mythos (as one of those stories passed on from one person to the next). There's no other evidence either way, and the story doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of Martha's life, except to show a possible character trait that I can probably get better corroboration on elsewhere.

If I was writing a biography of Martha, and I felt that I had to include this story, I would explain what Ramsay wrote int he context of the deliberations above (much more briefly) so that the reader could judge for themself.

[agaveblue]

[Fanfic] Sales Pitch

Title: Sales Pitch

Summary: The truth is Walter Londra doesn’t need an android. But with CyberLife downright determined to court him, and with the sheer amount of NDAs they’ve shoved at even him of all people, and even Walter is…curious about the apparently hush-hush prototype in his living room. Just a one-shot glimpse into what Connor might’ve been up to in the days of the Old Ones.

Crossover canons: Horizon games / Detroit: Become Human

Main characters: Connor (DBH) and Walter Londra (Horizon Forbidden West: Burning Shores)

Work Text:

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

Walter Londra squints, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other clutched around a frosted glass of whiskey, head tilted as he eyes this…thing from dark head to impeccably shined oxfords and back up again, and he can’t help that his first kneejerk reaction is I want one.

Good God, CyberLife really was good at what they did, weren’t they? Aside from the blinking blue light stamped into the machine’s head, you really couldn’t tell that “Connor” here wasn’t human no matter close you got to look for shimmering in the synthetically generated epidermis. No, no, this wasn’t the holo-skin of inferior products like the Faro servitors, with their metal and plastic skeletons covered in that translucent glowing sheath. It even looks more lifelike than the CyberLife androids he’s seen on market, the AX200s and CB200s and whatever. Why, the engineers designed this thing so that even the dark hair and smattering of small imperfections - faint freckles, slightly uneven, dark eyebrows - looked just like the real thing even as he leans in close, real close, to look for seams or that slight, barely there plastic-like sheen that previous CyberLife models had. Even when the machine extends its hand, it has the right grip, the right give…

Cold touch: ugh, Walter thinks, that glowing first impression slightly soured, and he unconsciously wipes his hand on his designer jeans once Connor releases it.

The android doesn’t seem to notice, still gazing at him with a politely friendly expression fixed on its handsome face.

“Mr. Londra, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Connor says. “Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”

Walter grunts, still eyeing the RK800. “Are you even for sale?”

“Regrettably I’m not.”

Now he wants the damn thing even more and he doesn’t even know why: he’s already got an army of personal assistants and security and he’s never given much thought to CyberLife androids until now.

“But in the future I might be to certain… select clientele,” Connor goes on with a dip of its head, almost as if it’s apologizing directly to the billionaire standing before it. The machine’s dark eyes, brown, soft, somehow alluring as if they’re already good friends (or they could be), fix on Walter.

“I assume I’m on the list.”

“Correct.”

“And how high am I on it?”

“Quite high. In fact, you’re the first from the private sector.”

“Good,” Walter laughs, “You know how I feel about being first!”

Connor doesn’t chuckle but it does manage something that looks like a small smile, private, reserved only for him as if it’s known the human for years. As if it knows him as well as Evelyn does. Did.

“A feeling that’s well-deserved, given your remarkable contributions and foresight. May I sit?”

The question catches Walter off-guard. First, because he’s the one who offers people chairs, if he feels they deserve one or if they can stay standing, and because people around him don’t have the balls to ask like that, and two, because he’d been busy just staring at this marvelously engineered thing standing before him and he’d already started to forget that, clammy handshake and blinking LED aside, that Connor wasn’t an attractive, weirdly approachable man at all. In his surprise Walter shrugs, gestures toward the real-leather armchair, watches for a second as the slender machine dressed in its sharp office wear heads to it, and then steps away to help himself to more whiskey.

He reminds himself that there’s no point pouring for two from the decanter.

“So why send you in person? CyberLife could’ve sent me your specs instead of shipping you all the way from Detroit.”

Connor’s voice is aggressively pleasant behind him, with its inoffensive, slight rasp.

 “That would have been appropriate for other prospective clientele. However, someone like you, Mr. Londra, deserves far more than the standard VR package.”

Walter’s smiling, lazy and indulgent, as he turns around with whiskey tumbler in hand. 

“Is that CyberLife’s opinion or yours? Can an RK800 even form opinions?”

“I believe,” Connor says mildly, “that would be best left to your interpretation.”

“Uh huh.”

"You’ll find the RK series a marked improvement in all forms of personal engagement."

“And how long, exactly, will you be shadowing me?”

“Two weeks.”

Walter sips his whiskey, feeling its familiar, soothing burn on his tongue and back of his throat, and sizes up Connor. The machine’s not dressed in the usual black-white uniform of commercial-grade CyberLife androids: instead its tailored clothes almost look like someone from, say, Londra Production’s Accounting Department, neat, smart lines, of gray and black, with even a damn silk tie around the thing’s slender neck. It’s even ironed! And yet just like every android he’s seen, there’s the usual markers. The glowing teal triangle and armband. The circular LED spinning blue above his right eyebrow. #313 248 317-50 is emblazoned on the chest of Connor’s gray jacket in glowing English like a billboard. There’s even MADE IN DETROIT stamped on there to go with the big letters of ANDROID splashed across the back of Connor’s shoulder blades.

Goddamn American Androids Act, Walter sighs, slinging himself down in the chair opposite the RK800. Tackiness wrapped up in legal bullshit no one ever asked for.

So sure, maybe Connor’s cutting edge. But it’s still just like the others and so Walter decides he better temper his expectations.

After all, he isn’t some easily impressed scrub off the street. This thing in front of him is expensive and he can tell when he’s being courted, wined and dined and having his dick sucked off. There’s got to be an angle to this that isn’t just his net worth. 

“Two weeks for what?” Walter gazes at Connor.

The machine’s head cocks, gesture a little birdlike and somehow…innocent. “For whatever you require, Mr. Londra.”

“Walter.”

“Apologies, Walter.”

Why does it sound so good hearing his name roll off the machine’s synthetic tongue?

“So what’s this about my ‘requirements’?”

Connor nods. “Maybe it'd help to think of me as your fully equipped, fully qualified personal assistant for these two weeks. I can also perform guard duty, cooking and cleaning, and anything else needed for your optimal emotional and physical health.”

“Guard duty? An android?”

“Ideally I’ll follow the same pacifist objectives as commercial androids,” Connor says, its glance sliding away for a moment to watch a seagull flit past the window and then wheel about in the sky, far above the threads of glittering traffic on the 405 and all the sorry bastards stuck in autocars that did shit all to help the congestion. “However, there may be certain circumstances - your personal safety, for example - where I can and will be able to choose which human life to…prioritize.”

The idea seems more and more attractive the more he listens. 

The more he studies Connor, its brown-eyed gaze wandering back to the window as if it’s never seen a flock of seagulls before, and there’s even a hint of boyish wonder(?) on the thing’s engineered face, its lips parted slightly, and the more he realizes the extent of the gift dropped in his lap. An android capable of violence, of doing whatever he asks however he asks. The perfect loyal being…provided it can do everything CyberLife claims it can. This could solve the problem of the MSP fiasco, he realizes, still watching Connor.

Not to mention it could solve a personal issue, closer to Earth. Closer to home….

“Well!” Walter breaks the silence. His hand tightens around the glass tumbler. He can taste the whiskey as he speaks and the RK800's head swivels back toward him, the gesture almost too smooth. “Guess we better put you through your paces.”

“Anything for you, Walter.”

“Have you met Evelyn?” “I’m afraid I haven’t had the opportunity to meet your wife just yet. Did you want me to?”

“In a way,” Walter says, grits his teeth in a forced smile flashing perfectly white teeth, leans forward, and watches as the android even copies him, as if they’re close friends leaning together over drinks. “There’s something funny going on with her and Jack Hoffman, my bodyguard. Find out what it is and bring me proof.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Eternally polite and eternally attentive, Connor starts to get up with its LED blinking furiously as if it’s already combing through social media and security CCTV, maybe even the entire holo-net for all he knows. The blue light stutters in electric surprise when Walter lurches forward, whiskey sloshing out of his glass and onto both their shoes, and catches the android by its sleeve.

“Not yet. Stay.”

And Connor obeys. The machine sits right back down and stays with him until it heads out in the morning. It takes less than three days for a single RK800 to return with solid proof that his wife, the love of his life, the star to outshine all others in the sky, is cheating on him, that traitorous, disloyal bitch. Her and that stupid, yappy, carpet-pissing Shiba Inu can't scrap together even a fraction of the loyalty this machine - on loan, even! - has shown in just a few days!

Two weeks later CyberLife comes to collect their property. Two weeks later with the CyberLife representative standing on his doorstep, Walter Londra immediately signs for an RK800 preorder on the spot, ignoring the number of zeroes and commas because you truly can't put a price on loyalty, now can you?

[faytelumos]

Trick or Treat? 🦇

Treat!

*carefully selects something from my basket*

---

"What do you hope to find?" Warrior asked as she settled with some trouble against the foot of the bookcase. She let out a brief sigh, stiff and slightly painful. Spy looked over his shoulder to watch her rest the sword in her lap, between her belly and her raised legs.

"The… monster you fought," he uttered, looking back to the books and scrolls. "I suspect I know what it was." He drew his claw slowly over the spines of the books as he read their worn titles. Encyclopedia of Unnatural Creatures, Mysterious Happenings: a Collection, Forbidden Cities of the World, What is The Truth and Where are The Lies.

He pulled 'Truth and Lies' and the encyclopedia from the shelf, cradling them in his wings. He turned slowly and stepped over to Warrior to lay down beside her. She watched him with curious and piercing eyes, and he set the books down on the floor before him. She leaned over to look at their covers, though he was sure she couldn't read well enough to glean anything from them.

He opened Truth and Lies and skimmed the contents page. Once he found the section he wanted, he flipped to it, then skimmed the text for further clues. He was by now sure she had encountered an Imperfection. Each of the Imperfections had their own qualities, and while he had suspicions as to which one Warrior had faced, he wasn't actually well-read on them. As he read, Warrior pulled the encyclopedia into her lap and opened it, starting on the first page and turning forward slowly.

"Why are we looking?" Warrior asked idly, studying an illustration. "It's gone now." Spy pinned his scaly ears, tightening his claws on the hardwood.

"It's not gone," he breathed. "That thing still haunts you." He turned the page and continued his search, beating down his anger at the monstrosity. "I want to find out how to help you. How to give you peace in mind now that you have it in body." He glanced at her to see her looking to him, her gaze strong and fierce, but her head tilted down. Something in his chest tightened down, a protective flame licking at his bones. He leaned his head forward and brushed his nose against her forehead.

"I'm fine," she lied quietly. He leaned away, looking down to the book again, turning to the next page.

She screamed and lunged, using her sheathed sword to knock the book as far away as possible as he rose to his claws in alarm. The poor book skittered across the floor and slammed into another shelf, and they both stood, her ragged panting shaking her entire body, his mind grappling between concern for her and for the book's binding.

He looked to her, to her pale skin gone ashen, her strong stance now trembling, sweat and fear on her face as she clutched the sword for dear life. She wreaked of terror, of fear, and it took him entirely too long to realize what had scared her so: the large picture of a spider on the page.

He reached to her, but she held up a hand to stop him. "I'm sorry," she gasped, closing her eyes. "Sorry…."

"You did nothing wrong," he breathed. She shook her head, still out-of-breath, and put a hand over her eyes. He hesitated. It didn't seem she wanted to be touched or otherwise comforted right now. "Will you be okay if I retrieve the book?" he breathed. She nodded this time, and he watched her a moment longer before going to see. Whichever entity had been on that page, that was surely the answer to his question.

[sorenliu-html]

Embrace

Performed live March 2024 @ Vassar College

Performance/Sculpture

This piece was originally intended to be a part of my senior project.

Written Component:

Note: I wrote this in English and then read the Chinese translation via Google translate out loud during the performance. I was interested in seeing how it would distort my writing yet mimic my own imperfections as I grow out of familiarity with Chinese writing, despite learning it simultaneously with English as my first language. I intentionally did not include the full English text in my live performance- take that as you will if you choose to read the English!

Google translate:

当我意识到我能做到这一点时，我就开始以某种方式装饰和制作自己的衣服。我已经将图像印在很多衬衫上。我总是会回到图形 T。在我的电脑上制作，我选择每张图片。我习惯性地选择它，把它烧掉，看着它随着时间的推移而崩溃。我会在任何可以找到的地方寻找图像，即使我可能不应该这样做。图形我不知道是谁创造的，是谁制作的。

按照我自己的形象制作，我选择每一个伤口。我习惯性地选择它，刺穿它，看着它随着时间的流逝而崩溃。当我意识到我可以做到这一点时，我就开始装饰我的皮肤并制作我自己的身体。我的第一个纹身是用缝衣针刺进我的皮肤的。现在它流血的方式，流淌着美丽的蓝色斑点。我想要它在我身上，因为它很有趣。或者说，这是做一些我不应该做的事情的乐趣，一些对我的形象来说不是由家庭上帝的某种扭曲所注定的事情。

现在，我将化学物质注射到肌肉中，看着自己最终衰老。我的生活就是一种视觉怀旧。变性人水仙，我总是回顾自己的倒影，直到最近我才看到自己的倒影。我的钱包里放着一张自己的照片。我只是觉得这是我的好照片。万一我需要的话。我在厕所里拍了很多照片，因为我不像其他女孩。我（曾经）希望能够像粘土一样塑造自己的身体。

作为一个“女孩”，我有很多这样的衬衫，但这一件是我母亲的。我觉得现在我的身上看起来很奇怪。我经常记得我第一次穿东西的时候。我第一次穿这件衬衫是在我还住在中国的时候，我还可以完美地用我的母语说话（我很高兴我仍然可以写母语，在所有讽刺的词中）。我的衣橱里似乎没有什么不对劲的地方，所以我走进了妈妈的衣橱。当我忘记如何庆祝新年时，我会制定自己的传统并每天实践它们。

Edits (experimenting with co-authoring machines):

自从我发现自己可以那一刻，我就开始以不同方式装饰和制作自己的衣服。我将图像印在无数件衬衫上。我总是会回到T恤衫。我在电脑上制作它，选择每张图片。我自定它，把它烧上，看着它随着时间的推移而瓦解。我在任何可能的地方寻找图像，即使我可能不应该这样做。我不知道是谁创造的，谁制作的图像。

我照着自己的形象造我这个人，我选择每一个伤口。我自定它，刺穿它，看着它随着时间的推移而瓦解。自从我发现我个人可以那一刻，我就开始装饰皮肤并制作自己的身体。我第一个纹身是用缝衣针刺进我的皮肤的。现在它蔓延的方式让它流淌着美丽的蓝色墨迹。我想要它在我身上因为它好笑。或者可能这是做一些我不应该做的事的乐趣，一些毁灭形象，不是由祖神的失真注定的事。

现，我将化学物质注射到我的肌肉中，看着自己终于成年。我的生活就是一种视觉怀旧。跨性别镜灵，我总是回头看自己的倒���。一个直到最近我才看到自己在中的倒影。我钱包里放着一张自己的照片。我只是觉得这是个好照片而已。万一我需要它的话。我在厕所里拍了许多照片，因为我不像其他女孩。我（曾经）希望能把自己的身体像粘土一样塑造。

作为一个“女孩”，我有过很多这样的衬衫，但这一件是我母亲的。它现在我身上看起来好奇怪。我常常回忆我第一次穿新服的那天。我第一次穿这件衬衫时，我还住在国内，我还能流利地说母语（还好我现在仍然会写“母语”怎么挖苦个字）。那天我衣柜里啥都不对劲，所以我走进了妈妈的。我忘记如何庆祝新年时，我会制定自己的传统并每天练习它。

Original version:

As soon as I realized I could do it, I’ve been decorating and making my own clothes, in some way or another. I’ve printed images onto so many shirts. I always come back to graphic Ts. Made on my computer, I choose every picture. I custom select it, burn it on, watch it crumble with age. I find images anywhere I can, even when I maybe shouldn’t. Graphics I have no idea who created, who made it.

Made in my own image, I choose every wound. I custom select it, stab it on, watch it crumble with age. As soon as I realized I could do it, I’ve been decorating my skin and making my own body. My first tattoo, hacked into my skin with a sewing needle. The way it bleeds out now, bleeding beautiful blots of blue. I wanted it on my body because it was funny. Or it was the fun of doing something I shouldn’t have, something to my image not preordained by some distortion of familial god.

Now I inject chemicals into my muscle and watch myself finally age. My life is one of visual nostalgia. Transexual invert Narcissus, I’m always looking back at my own reflection, one I didn’t see myself in until recently. I keep a picture of myself in my wallet. I just think it’s a good picture of me. In case I need it. I take so many pictures on the toilet because I’m NotLikeOtherGirls. I (used to) wish I could sculpt my own body like clay.

I had/have many shirts like this as a “girl”, but this one was my mother’s. I feel that it looks so strange on my body now. I often remember the first time I wore things. I wore this shirt for the first time back when I still lived in China and spoke perfectly in my mother tongue (I’m glad I can still write 母语, of all ironic words). Nothing in my closet seemed right, so I went into my mother’s. When I forget how to celebrate the new year I make my own traditions and practice them every day.

[ashleysingermfablog]

Wk 16, 23rd of June, 2024 Research

Flower Morphology (The Cycles of Plants and the Fruiting/Flowering Parts)

Andrew Petran and Emily Tepe, Strawberry Flower, research diagram

From the text: Flower Morphology by Biology LibreTexts...

General introduction to flower parts: The flower is built upon a structural foundation consisting of a compressed stem with four nodes and three internodes. For a visual image of these compressed nodes, imagine pushing down on a telescoping radio antenna so that the antenna sections slide down into each other. At the very top of the fully compressed antenna you’ll still see the tips of each of the sections of the antenna, and this resembles the highly compressed nodes and internodes of a stem. The region of the stem containing these four compressed nodes is called the receptacle.

Some plants produce imperfect male and imperfect female flowers on the same plant. The flowers containing only androecium are called staminate (male) flowers while the flowers with only gynoecium are called pistillate (female) flowers. Squash and melons, such as the watermelon shown above, are examples of plants with imperfect flowers. Corn and cucumber are others. Notice the enlarged receptacle and inferior ovary at the base of the pistillate flower of the watermelon. These flowers, because they are missing one of the four parts, could also be described as incomplete.

Male and female watermelon flowers. Pollinator. CC BY-SA 3.0

From the text: Flower Morphology- an overview, by ScienceDirect...

Flower morphology consists of a large number of parameters, including the number and shape of petals, number of stamens, petal size and the number and arrangement of styles and ovaries. Some of these characters, for example, the size of floral organs, seem to be controlled by several genes, whereas single (five petals) versus double (>10 petals) was shown to be inherited by a single gene.

In genotypes with double (multipetalled) flowers which have been selected several times during the early history of rose breeding, a certain number of stamens seems to have undergone homeotic transitions to petals, with some intermediate forms between both organ types. This is consistent with other plant species where these homeotic transformations have been observed for a long time. In roses these intermediate organ morphologies are common but the indefinite number of stamens makes it difficult to correlate stamen and petal numbers. However, diploid crosses between double (>10 petals) and single (<6 petals) flowered genotypes revealed negative correlations between the number of stamens and petals supporting the concept of homeotic transformation.

From the text: Current status and biotechnological advices in genetic engineering of ornamental plants by Stephen F. Chandler, in Biotechnology Advances...

Genetic engineering of cut flowers:

Roses (Rosa) are one of the most economically important and favourite ornamental plants worldwide. Roses of specific color have been used for years as symbolic codes in many social and artistic events (Gudin, 2000). Besides being cultivated for ornamental purposes, roses are also used in the perfume and natural medicine industries. Petal-derived essential oils extracted from Rosa species have important secondary metabolites, used in perfume, cosmetic, aromatherapy, spice manufacturing, and nutrition industries (Feng et al., 2010). Rosa species also contain a number of medicinally important metabolites, such as flavonoids, tormentic acid, gallic acid derivative, polysaccharides, and rosamultin (Park et al., 2005; An et al., 2011). The Rosa genus is endemic to temperate regions of the northern hemisphere, including Europe, North America, Asia, and the Middle East but the highest diversity of species is reported in western China (Phillips and Rix, 1988). Rosa has wide variation and hybridizes freely (Zieliński et al., 2004). The rose genome is mostly diploid or tetraploid comprising up to 2n = 2x = 14 to 2n = 8x = 56 chromosomes (Short and Roberts, 1991). Sexual hybridization is rather troublesome in roses due to this wide range of chromosome numbers, high level of heterozygosity, limited gene pool, and a high level of sterility (Marchant et al., 1998a; Van der Salm et al., 1998). 

Lilies (Lilium) are one of the most important flowering crops due to their ornamental value as cut flowers, garden and pot plants. Lilium is native to Asia, North America, Europe, and tropics, at high elevations (Beattie and Whittle, 1993). The Easter lily, Asiatic and oriental hybrids are commercially important. In the floriculture industry, lilies are ranked within the top 10 flowers. Desirable traits in lilies such as flower color, plant form, virus resistance, and stress tolerance can be genetically improved and Lilium transformation has successfully been established through biolistic and Agrobacterium-mediated methods. Several useful transgenic plants have been produced.

A transformation efficiency of 3% was obtained when calli of the oriental hybrid lily ‘Acapulco’ were scratched with sandpaper prior to Agrobacterium inoculation (Hoshi et al., 2004). NH4NO3-free medium was used as co-cultivation medium. This medium was also successfully used by Qiu-Hua et al. (2008) to transfer the maize pollen–specific Zm401 gene into Lilium longiflorum × L. formosanum using Agrobacterium strain LBA4404 containing pBI121 as the binary vector. A low rate of Agrobacterium-mediated transformation (1.4%) was obtained when NH4NO3-free medium was used as the co-cultivation medium in transformation of eight lily cultivars, possibly due to a genotype effect (Wang et al., 2012). Liu et al. (2011) used MS medium with acetosyringone for co-cultivation with Agrobacteriumto transform L. longiflorum. A high transformation frequency was observed from nodal stem explants via direct and indirect shoot regeneration.

Morphology is the name given to the science that deals with the study of the form and structure of things. No matter which plant you take, the morphology of a flowering plant includes the roots, stem, leaves, flowers, and fruits.

When we look into the morphology of flowering plants, a plant has two systems root system and shoot system. The underground part is called the root while the one above is named the shoot.

It is clear from this research that my practice is preoccupied with the shoot systems of plants (the flowers, petals, fruit, seedpods) that make up the system of energy, growth and regeneration in the vegetal realm. Flower morphology clearly shows us that these complex plant systems build by design the organic matter that I am casting, so that each petal made, seedpod formed and fruit developed is a unique and vital part of sustaining life in the world of botanical species. There is no waste in the process of the shoot systems, or rather, all waste is used as nutrients in mulch, compost and the breaking down of matter- which feeds the root systems.

Ashley Singer, matter gleaned from a recent fieldwork trip in Hillsborough Road, outside of Mt Cecilia Park, 2024, research image

Casting forms allows the language of sculpture to take the permanent and delicate nature of the shoot systems in plants and hold them in space for examination, documentation and study. Textures, how it sits in space (the object related ontology of matter), the complex design, the difference and variation in species. This can all be examined by casting.

Below is a process of the shoot system loosing matter that is not needed further in the germination process. These research images were taken by me in Hillsborough in a familiar tree (perhaps to me a nementon- sacred grove), and from there I collected fallen matter to cast.

See below: Ashley Singer, Two Magnolia Trees losing petals, 2024, research images

[ciyapaofficial]

Oversized T-Shirts and High-Waisted Jeans: The Ultimate Casual Look

Even in the ever-changing fashion industry, however, there are a few timeless staples that will always stay in style. Combining oversized t-shirts and high-waisted jeans is a classic look that has stood the test of time. This standard clothing option is the best option when you don't feel like putting in much effort but still want to look presentable.

Oversized T-Shirts: The Comfort Zone

Summer's skin-baring crop tops, bralettes, and bikinis have been replaced by a new, cozy uniform for fall. Wearing an oversized tee has long been seen as a way to relax. They surround you with a comforting sense of familiarity, like a warm hug. Oversized t-shirts give off an air of casual ease, perfect for lounging around the house.

However, the trend toward baggy tees is more than just lounging around in style or performing daily chores. They make it simple to express yourself, whether through retro band tees, clever phrases, or bold designs. The relaxed cut also exudes an air of carefree charm and casual fashion that is hard to resist. 

Enhancing Your Style with High-Waisted Jeans

On the other side of this dynamic combination, we have high-waisted jeans. They deserve much of the credit for their recent resurgence in popularity. Jeans with high-waists aren't merely a trend because of how flattering they are. They help you achieve an hourglass figure with your natural waist.

Because of their adaptability, high-waisted bottoms are a great investment in terms of money and fashion. They're versatile because of how easily they can be dressed up or down. You can pick a pair of jeans that complements your sense of style thanks to the wide selection of cuts and washes.

Oversized T-Shirts and High-Waisted Jeans: The Magic of the Combination

Effortless Chic: The elegant "I woke up like this" appearance is easily attained with this combination. A visually pleasing harmony is achieved between the relaxed fit of the t-shirt and the figure-flattering construction of the jeans.

Comforting Style: You get the best of both worlds. You're comfortable in your large top, but the high-waisted jeans give an edge of refinement, bringing the look a level above your regular loungewear.

Endless Versatility: One of the many beautiful things about this combination is that it can be used for virtually any event. Wear it with sneakers for a day out, or wear heels and a clutch for a night on the town.

Body Positivity: Clothing with a message of body positivity. Oversized t-shirts and high-waisted jeans are universally flattering because of their roomy silhouettes that skim over imperfections.

Timeless Match: You don't have to spend days deciding what to dress to make an impression on others. This stylish match is simple, timeless, and requires zero effort to make it seem put together.

Amazing Ways to Style Oversized T-Shirts and High-Waisted Jeans

1 Tuck-in Your T-shirt

Tucking in the t-shirt is a terrific way to dress up this outfit. This will highlight the waist even more and improve your look. This style is also far more refined and presentable than wearing your t-shirt untucked. 

2 Choose a Plain Tee

A plain white tee in a flattering cut is a go-to for pairing with high-rise denim. This looks great with a pair of high-waisted jeans with interesting details or a unique silhouette. Flared jeans, rugged jeans, and even jeans covered in flowers are all appropriate attire.

3 Put on a Graphic Tee

Graphics and huge text are all commonplace on printed t-shirts. They are aesthetically pleasing and have the potential to draw a lot of interest. High-waisted jeans should be kept simple if worn with this type of t-shirt. 

4 Belt it up

Belts are your saviour when wearing high-waisted jeans, and you want to show off your trim waist. You may spruce up your outfit with the help of a belt. Use a thin belt if you're going for a sophisticated look. Use a wider belt for a more pronounced and confident appearance.

5 Use a Cardigan

As winters are heading, a cardigan sweater is a terrific way to dress up an otherwise basic look of oversized t-shirts and high-waisted jeans. In addition to keeping you warm on chilly days, they can help you express your style. 

6 Put on a Leather Jacket

A leather jacket is a great way to add an edge to your outfit if you prefer more daring styles. An unusual, captivating, and edgier style can be achieved by adding a leather jacket with several silver zippers, buttons, and accents.

7 Try a Denim Jacket

The denim-on-denim look has been popular for decades and shows no signs of going away. Add a denim jacket with your high-waisted jeans for a complete look. The tee will provide the proper contrast and round out the ensemble for a stunningly easy appearance. 

8 Dress it up with a Kimono

This basic outfit is perfect for accessorizing with a kimono. Like cardigans, kimonos can be found in various designs, cuts, and fabrics. The lightweight summer versions are ideal for warmer weather, while the heavier winter versions include sturdier material.

Hints on Amazing Fashion

The classic pairing of oversized t-shirts and high-waisted jeans is easy to pull off, but you can always take it up by adding accessories.

You may define your waist and achieve a more polished look by tucking in the bottom or most of your large top.

Personalise your look by accessorizing with a hefty belt, many necklaces, or a pair of colourful sunglasses.

The right pair of shoes can do wonders for your outfit. While sneakers are informal, heels or ankle boots are dressy.

Consider adding a jacket, cardigan, or blazer as an outer layer to your outfit so you can wear it in various climates.

Be bold around with colour combinations. Neutral tones are classic, yet a dash of colour may infuse some personality into your design.

Conclusion

Oversized t-shirts and high-waisted jeans have stood the test of time. It's perfect for when you want to look good yet still be relaxed. It's a look that's timeless, versatile, and body-positive. Reach for these tried-and-true items the next time you find yourself standing in front of your closet feeling unprepared for the day. Because who says you can't be both casual and stylish?

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Original Source: https://www.ciyapa.com/blog/post/oversized-t-shirts-and-high-waisted-jeans-the-ultimate-casual-look 

[searchenginesjournal]

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Waiting for the right person to come around and treat us the way we want to be treated sounds exhausting. In the era of modernisation, dating is seen as a necessity rather than a source of happiness and joy. When we get into a relationship with someone, we accept them as they are with their flaws and imperfections. However, it is indeed important to look out for some major green flags in the person you are dating for a smooth and happy love life. Therefore, we have compiled a list of some important green flags that are important to formulate a healthy and long-lasting relationship.

Don’t…limit yourself. Keep your options open and remember one way of finding a date is not necessarily right for everyone. There are so many options, including online dating sites, apps, recommendations, blind dates, meeting someone when socialising and more. The world is your oyster. Do…remember to have fun and that dating should be exciting. Although the end goal is to find a perfect partner, it’s important to enjoy the journey. Plan fun dates and do things you both like. If your date isn’t ‘the one’, at least you will have some fun experiences.

Do you have an ex who has been hanging around for years or a f*ckboy that’s been messing with your head? What about those people you text when you’re feeling lonely or bored or who you think you might be interested in someday? I call these people the “maybes:” the exes, previous dates, and “it’s complicated” relationships that didn’t work out the first time around, but you keep their number in your phone “just in case” or are hoping something will change.

You go out with a girl, you both seem to have great chemistry. After your date, you both go home happy and satisfied. Now you think things could only get better. But after a few days, she begins to pull away. And because you have no idea what you’ve done wrong, you become confused and frustrated, making even bigger mistakes that only push her further away. Or, maybe you’re a decent-looking guy who just never has any luck getting beautiful girls to pay attention to you. Whatever the problem may be for you, this article will help you understand some key things you might have been overlooking. When it comes to dating, there are some untold rules that many guys are unknowingly falling short on. And when you make these same mistakes for too long without any luck, dating can become just another frustrating game for you. That said, let’s look at ten mistakes that some guys may not even know they are making. If you’ve been having a rough time dating, take note of these. You might be faltering.

Kind people are charming. You’ve probably heard the idea that if you want to get a good understanding of someone’s true nature, watch how they treat those who are in a lesser position, like service staff, waiters, etc. Everyone responds well to kindness. We all want someone who has a good heart, who is caring and empathetic. A man who treats others with kindness and respect shows his woman that he isn’t just nice to her because she’s pretty or because he wants something from her. It’s his nature, and she can count on him to be that to her anytime any day. And this assurance will make her feel safe with him. As the saying goes, your looks might capture people’s attention, but it’s your character that will keep them interested. Nothing on this list has to do with looks. Meaning, they are all learnable if you’re not implementing them already.

Treat every date like it’s special: Okay, we know. Not every date is going to include sparks and fireworks. Sometimes it’s just plain boring or what you thought was going to be a great match turns out to be a total clash. But the important thing to remember is that every single date no matter the outcome is an opportunity for growth. You’re making a connection with another human, after all, and there’s always something to learn and something to share. Be curious, ask questions, find qualities about that person to appreciate, and after each date, even the duds. Take a moment to recognize how the experience contributes to your self-growth.

Repeat after me: Dating should be fun. It should not feel forced, boring, painful, or sad. If it’s not enjoyable, you’re either putting too much pressure on each date, feeling self-conscious about dating, or focusing on the wrong things. Remember that dating is not intended to have only one outcome. Every experience—whether it’s a date, Tinder conversation, or a few months of dating—brings you closer to clarity.

Ditch the loser who doesn’t make you happy. Newsflash: If the person you’re with constantly disappoints you, consistently can’t meet your needs, or refuses to commit to you, it’s time to cut them loose. Hanging on to someone who isn’t making you happy because you’re hoping they’ll suddenly change is going to waste a lot of your precious time — time you could spend meeting and getting to know someone who is a good fit for you. You’ll never meet “the one” if you’re hung up on the wrong one. So, as they say — out with the old and in with the new. Breaking up is hard to do, but trust me on this one: the only regret you’ll have when looking back is that you didn’t split sooner.

Communication skills can make or break any dating situation. Case in point: if the fact that a date hasn’t introduced you to their friends is bothering you, and you don’t say anything to them about it, you’ll probably end up building resentment until you explode — and then they’ll be blindsided. So, once again, make it a point to start sharing your needs, wants, and feelings with the people you’re dating. It may feel scary at first, but it’ll pay off in the long run by helping you to A) better evaluate your compatibility with someone early on and B) avoid unnecessary conflicts.

[dearestones]

Behind the Camera (Yandere! Alex Kralie x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere character, implied stalking.

Anonymous Request: Yandere Alex Kralie with Reader who avoids Him please? ( of course if you still writing for Marble hornets) -♠️

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Hanging out with Alex Kralie used to be so much fun. He was a nerd for old, niche movies and while you could see where he was coming from, you relentlessly teased him for his taste. In response, he claimed that you were mistaken and projecting your imperfections onto him, but you disagreed.

He tried to prove you wrong, but with every movie that you watched, the more convinced you were that this man could not have been a film student. Despite the fact that he knew his way around cameras and was often seen with one of those older models, you were more than sure that his vision was a bit too broad and too specific to be applied to his—admittedly, amateur—abilities. You had said as much, but he ignored your concerns.

For a while, that was it. The both of you would try to arrange a date where you would enjoy terrible movies—films, as Alex would say—and then argue about it. Verbal sparring usually occurred, but the blows were glancing and feelings weren’t hurt too badly.

Somehow, one day, Alex changed.

The light in his eyes had dimmed, his jokes became bitter and sarcastic, and you could tell that he was running away from something. You knew that something had happened to Amy, his girlfriend for many years, but you never had the courage to ask about the break up. All you knew was that Alex was with Amy when she left, but Amy had never returned any of your calls or texts.

It seemed that she had disappeared.

And you didn’t know what to make of it.

Questions led you nowhere, confrontation led to anger and an eventual blow up between you and Alex. For a while, you thought that it had been the end of it. You didn’t hang out with Alex or try to investigate and Alex left you alone. However, before life seemed to resume back into its normal, if boring state, Alex started calling you.

And you ignored him.

Alex started texting you.

And you blocked his number.

That should have been the end of that, but he didn’t think so. Instead of taking the hint and properly moving out of your life forever, the strangest thing happened.

Every day, without fail, you would wake up, eat your breakfast, and if circumstances demanded it, you would open your front door.

And you did.

Every single day.

Outside your door, there would be a series of cassette tapes. Some of them were named, the tape on them a bland color compared to the harsh strokes of dark black ink from a marker. You weren't sure what to make of the strange, incoherent jumble of letters and numbers with the date appended onto the title. Were they codes? Shorthand for something?

You were never too sure.

(You had a feeling that Alex was behind this, but you didn’t want to entertain that thought).

It was the tapes’ contents that had your heart stuttering into an uneasy rhythm. At first, you didn’t have the stamina or the energy to deal with this nonsense. Tapes with weird cryptic messages taped to the sides? Whatever. You could deal with it.

But the tapes continued to mount in number until you had just over two dozen of the stupid things. You were annoyed, yes, but then you were intrigued.

It took a while to get the right equipment in order to watch the cassettes, but you pushed forward. It didn’t matter that you had to fork over more cash than you thought was necessary or that you had a camcorder that you knew you were going to use once.

You selected one of the tapes at random, hoping that it was just some garbage. Maybe it was a ripped movie or somebody’s old home videos that were going to be more boring rather than scandalous. All of that hope left you immediately when you actually studied the contents in the tapes.

At first, you had been confused.

You saw… Trees, lots of trees. Shots of cars passing by on the street. The sun set until the screen was filled with darkness.

But then—

A familiar street. A familiar line of houses. A familiar door.

Your door.

Your house.

And then—

You went through the tapes. Each of them were scoured for their contents, dissected like a high school experiment.

At first, the tapes consisted of scenes outside of your home. Sometimes, you could see yourself puttering behind your windows or taking a walk outside if you needed to exercise. At first, seemingly harmless, but then you started watching the more recent cassettes.

Someone had filmed you buying groceries, going out for walks, giving a stranger directions to a nearby park.

Someone had filmed you reading in your living room, cooking in the kitchen, and going about your daily life like any other person would.

The only thing that kept you from panicking completely was that the point of view of the person—Alex, it was Alex, but you didn’t want it to be Alex—operating the camera was that they were always on the outside looking in. Not once had they breached your door and stepped inside your private space.

However—

Once you reached the bottom of the pile, you realized that there was one final tape. Unlike the others, the footage was short and to the point. No meandering shots of the outside that would have lulled you into security. No ‘bait and switch’ cliches that would be the cause of one or two heart attacks.

No. What you saw was someone—Alex, Alex, Alex!!!—approaching your door, a pale hand grasping the doorknob, and turning it. As expected, the door wouldn’t budge because you always kept it locked.

The person jostled the camera—you could hear them rummaging for something in their pockets—until you heard a strange thing.

A jangling of keys.

Your breath stilled.

The person neatly inserted the key into the lock—practiced, the motion was practiced!—and it turned with a click.

For a moment, the tape glitched, the image distorting until a voice finally filtered through. For the first time, a sound other than footsteps and the surrounding ambience was heard.

“Stop avoiding me.”

And the screen went blank.

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DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

MARBLE HORNETS MASTERLIST

[aspiringtrashpanda]

Myself and @4laurus thought it would be fun to put together some One Piece Valentine's cards and matching drabbles! So, without further ado...

4Pandas presents 2/6:

“You’ve clutched my heart.”

Robin stared at the book in her lap, gaze tracing the same letters over and over. So often, in fact, that she would not have been surprised had the words burned themselves into her crystalline irises, branded across her pupils for all to see.

Or, perhaps, not the words that she was attempting to read, but the words on her mind.

“We’ll meet again soon,” You had promised, the taste of your lips linger on her tongue as you had leapt from the Thousand Sunny, onto the small dingy the research crew had sent for your retrieval.

“Soon,” She repeated to herself, every night before she gave into sleep’s embrace – mimicking yours with heartbreaking accuracy.

Soon.

The inability to submerge herself in her selected fiction was unusual. The circumstances were ideal: A sunny day, a light breeze, a lack of marines hurtling canons their way – Truly, a perfect day to lounge by her flower garden atop the Sunny and bury herself in whatever fairy-tale romance had piqued her interest.

For today, of all days, was for romance, wasn’t it?

She was certain that Sanji would twirl by at any moment, waxing poetic as he delivered a pink tinted beverage or a heart shaped tart, and she had peeked in on Chopper and Usopp as they crafted Valentine’s cards for the crew mere minutes ago. Luffy, thrilled with any concept that would justify a party, had instructed Franky and Jinbei to deck out the ship in twinkling lights for the occasion. Nami had found the request surprising, shouting her suspicion over top Brook’s violin as he prepared his most romantic melodies. Sure enough, Zoro had explained that the captain only wanted the lighting to improve his aim for snagging food from Sanji’s feast all night.

It seemed as though all of the Straw Hats had been struck by Cupid’s arrow.

All but one.

For Robin had watched you look into her eyes, her soul, as you had tugged the pointed tip from her chest and smiled. It had been that lovely smile that she adored so much. The one where your left eye squinted slightly more than the right, your lips lopsided.

She liked you best when you were asymmetrical. Imperfect. Real.

And you weren’t there.

You were on some island far away, or sailing seas parallel to the waves on which the Sunny rocked. You were digging up fossils and dusting dirt from bones. You were, Robin hoped, just as distracted as she found herself, your thoughts occupied with the sound of your name on her own lips. Sometimes she wondered if you could hear her whispers, deep in your heart.

The reverence with which you had said her name, caught red-handed and bent over backwards as phantom limbs held your head at a precarious angle, had piqued her interest. It wasn’t everyday a thief snuck into their library, and for books at that!

Placing her unsatisfactory text down with a sigh, Robin unfolded herself from her garden chair, craving the grounding sensation of grass between her toes. She felt as though she wasn’t whole, as if she was but a shell drifting down the stairs, smiling blankly at her friends.

It wasn’t as if this was unexpected.

Love at sea was akin to weathering a sudden storm – urgent action to navigate passionate thundering hearts without pause, tapering out and leaving some devastated in the aftermath. The inevitable farewell, veiled in ‘until next time’s left her craving more, the remnants of her waves, once vicious, lapping lazily at your hull.

Robin crossed her arms over her chest, summoning manifested limbs, guiding each and every one of her Nakama into the middle of the lawn.

They gathered around their archaeologist without question, wrapping her up in a warm embrace. Luffy snickered as Zoro grumbled a half-hearted protest, Sanji overjoyed with the chance to comfort his dear Robin-chan. Nami’s hair smelt of the fresh tangerines she had been tending, Usopp and Chopper of ink and glue. Franky’s mechanical arm jabbed her in between her shoulders, Brook’s afro tickling her cheek, and Jinbei’s webbed fingers squeezed her hand in quiet support.

Her heart swelled, a warmth creeping through her veins.

Love was in the air upon the Thousand Sunny.

With a smile, Robin turned her eyes to the horizon, lifting two fingers to her lips. She mimed an aiming motion, as if she was stretching a bow taut, and let her kiss go, soaring over the waves into the setting sun, in hopes that her arrow would pierce your heart, where ever you were.

There was the creak of a floorboard, to the right of the lawn.

With a gasp, Robin spun into action, lifting her arms over her chest.

Limbs as soft as petals grabbed at your frame, fingers folding over your mouth in a move you knew all too well. You could do nothing but hope that she noticed before she dealt the final blow.

Though, this was Robin, and Robin noticed everything.

She noticed the way her crew failed to react to the sound, she noticed how they remained relaxed, gathered around her on the lawn. She noticed the playful gleam in your eyes, they way you reached out to her, completely unfazed by the phantom arms prepare to tug you backwards.

Robin fell into your arms as cherry blossoms dusted your shoulders, the fragrant flowers tangling in your scent of leather and fresh paper, the aroma like the two of you in the library, just how you had met.

“You missed,” You chuckled, gently tucking a lock of raven hair behind her ear.

And she kissed you, hand on your chest, your pierced heart hammering against her palm.

If you liked this, please consider checking out our Ko-Fis here and here! ❤

[ruki--mukami]

one blue-darkened not-too-heavy gift box accompanied with a beauteous yellowish kind-of-ancient-texture letter sent to the selected cognizance to intend on greeting the deepest wishes and stunning prayers for a deserved incroyable birthday — having to testimony the bright smiles of minor students who thank the jesters for the gifts in traditional parades and carouses in the midst of jovial laughters. some things to not except : the concerned’s tastes opted. philosophy’s book named macbeth of Shakespeare for underworld’s policy, faust of Goethe for the boredom of an intelligent man who has forgotten his imperfections in his sole trap doomed by devil’s sweet-coated promises, a room of one's own of Virgina Woolf for individualism’s life of idleness ironically misunderstood with the ability of thinking, writing alone and falling in love with the solitude and more significant lessons. then manly-chosen clothings like suits, and musky coats could’ve been great but his physique’s details are unknown informations, so a letter might be enough to replace this add, plus a chocolate cake with strawberries carefully sent by an invisible familiar beside the gift box.

« Hello, MUKAMI Ruki.

Happy birthday. May the day of your birth grants you the ability of living yourself more, for immortality can sometimes be tremendous to look at when boredom or trivial events are met when we wake up and after we sleep. But with or without this birthday, I hope your days are treating you well. Take care of yourself. A rest is a must for a free thinker who doesn’t sit with comfort in the name of the pleasure of an adventurous life. Birthdays aren’t celebrated by vampires for obvious twisted sense of affectionate etiquettes, but nobody must follow this habit. I gave you these gifts for particular reasons ; it’s a duty to recognize how vast is our underworld, and perhaps a healthy promenade can beguile your curiosity. Shops are always open, so don’t hesitate to go there and to let your body relax with each beautiful thing your eyes see. Perhaps you’re alone, but this is not a thrill, the reason why the third book is what I recommended. All of them bought for a person who doesn’t like delay when the brain and the heart must co-exist, both together. I know how an academic body of knowledge sounds like, and sometimes we must allow our beings to acquaint what’s important to know. A lot of words but, to let you know that this day, and all your days, have to serve a purpose, and it’s to be autonomous, healthy, happy even if the reality exists, knowledgeable and always smiling. Have a good day, and again, happy birthday. »

"...? What was that?"

Approaching the entrance to the Mukami manor with heavy, reluctant footsteps, Ruki slowly turned the doorknob and was somewhat dumbfounded to lower his steel-blue eyes upon a deluxe gift box and an overly delectable looking cake, clad in layers of chocolate and topped with fresh strawberries, crimson as blood.

"Ah, this must be a birthday gift for me. Whoever sent this to me seems to be unaware of my contempt for sweets, but nevertheless, I shall share this with my brothers to lessen the burden on myself."

Hesitantly, he grabbed the gift box and container of cake from off the doorstep and brought it inside, setting the items atop the dining table. Pulling up a chair, he sat down to open its contents and was surprised to see not one, but three whole books inside, two of which he already familiarized himself with long ago. The third, on the other hand, he had yet to read. A Room of One's Own. Ruki tended to stray away from texts and authors whose central focus revolved around gender inequalities, given his distrust of women thanks to his own mother, but every now and then a book like Woolf's wouldn't hurt.

"A letter, huh. What joy," he huffed, remembering something unpleasant from his past. Nevertheless, he began to read.

From the academic writing style, he immediately discerned it was Maria from the library.

"So she knows I'm a Vampire, then. My, my. Well, this both complicates and eases my job. No need to play nice after all."

He continued reading. To know that the books had a specific purpose piqued his interest, especially when the third one in question remained unknown to him. Aside from that, however, he could pinpoint that Goethe's Faust and Shakespeare's Macbeth both had similar themes of human ambition and morality. Perhaps A Room of One's Own followed suit based on those clues.

"Well, well, well... I hope to know what she means by both the brain and the heart co-existing after reading this literature. Next time we meet, I would have finished reading it by then. That way we have more to discuss amongst the two of us. Hm. What a thrill indeed."

The end of the letter seemed to conclude with genuine birthday wishes and hopes for not only today, but every day to be filled with happiness and purpose. A smile crept across his face as he folded the letter, setting it back down alongside the three new books for his collection.

"You have my utmost gratitude. I'll have to thank you properly next time we meet again, face-to-face." With that, he took the gifts to his room, fully intent on reading Woolf's book. "Until then, Maria."

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

hello self - tumblr continues to hate us so let's just post this way #yolo

Can the past truly be rewritten? Can one simply erase the thunder and rain, leaving behind only the rainbows and sunshine? Can the imperfections be ushered away with the eraser shavings? Or will they remain engrained into the page – its presence serving as a reminder that no one can escape their past.

The answer of course, is that the past cannot be rewritten.

Recently, there were three people, connected by destiny, who struggled to accept this fact. Unfortunately, you were included in said group. But instead of surrendering, you chose to wield your stubbornness as a sword, refusing to accept reality, and refusing to accept defeat. The truth of the matter was… you could not afford to concede. As if you did, you would never be able to return to the love that bathed your world in colour. And the world has stolen far too much from you – could you really survive if it stole him?

You needed to rewrite these last few months, if you didn’t, every moment you shared with him would be tainted in a blinding crimson. The warnings issued by your best friend and sister were true – you knew that what your relationship needed was time. But you were absolutely terrified that time would not be enough to mend the damage. And so, your mind remained clouded with thoughts of fantasy and seized by fear.

“I’m leaving now, Tooru. Have fun at practice later.” A faint smile was presented in the setter’s direction, as you shoved your right hand into your jacket pocket.

“Have fun, y/n-y/n! But not too much fun.” The mocha haired male ripped his gaze away from the cellphone screen, before tossing a playful wink.

Rolling your eyes, a gentle laugh was pushed past your teeth. You were thankful that he remained oblivious to the surge of emotions thrashing against the thin mask you prepared for him. It was better this way – fake it until you make it, right?

As you began down the hallway, the clicking of your boots with the surface soon syncretized with your breathing, forcing it to a slower pace. Once in the elevator, you removed your hand from your pocket, analyzing it for any defects. The caffeine consumed earlier prompted tremors to claim your fingers. It was a miracle you were able to complete your texts without any mistakes. But it appeared that after steadying your breathing pattern, your limbs returned to regular functioning.

Maybe it would be okay. Everything would be okay.

The mantra was repeated internally until you reached the lobby, providing a boost of confidence to your step. Within a few seconds you were able to locate the one responsible for your frazzled mental state. The familiar black-haired male was stood outside the glass barriers with his eyes glued to the cement below. Dressed in blue jeans and a thin corduroy jacket, he sincerely outshined any models you were fortune enough to collaborate with. The sight flooded your senses with adoration, drowning out the remaining anxiety that inhibited your veins. When he caught onto your presence, a smile warmed his features and you found yourself unable to maintain a frown.

At the end of the day, he was still the same man you fell in love with. The same one who filled your days with love and happiness.

Perhaps that would be enough to override the scarlet rain that loomed over you.

“Hi there.” When you joined your fiancé outside, a teasing smirk tugged at the ends of your lips. “Look at you, lookin’ like a whole ass snack.”

“Well, hello to you too. I’m glad you approve of my outfit.” Joy glimmered in his grey irises while a low chuckle was expelled. He was skeptical in asking his brother for fashion guidance earlier, but it seemed that his twin’s advice was useful once again.

“Are you sure you’re not the model, and I’m the cook in the relationship? I mean, I do make some mean onigiri.” Proceeding a step closer to him, you trailed the tips of your fingers along the sleeve of his coat, permitting your fingers to linger when you reached his wrist.

His eyes flickered to your wandering hand, and without missing a beat, he caught your fingers with his, weaving them together naturally. Truthfully, he wanted to embrace you or obtain some form of physical contact the second he laid eyes on you, what he was searching for was permission. He was unsure what boundaries were required under the circumstances, but he was thankful that he was still allowed to hold your hand.

“You do. I have a lot to learn from you, chef.” With his gaze returning to yours, you were quick to notice how the physical contact eased him.  

“You’re so cheesy.” Clicking your tongue, you shook your head, feigning disappointment. The theatrical response served as a distraction from the heat flowing from his skin and the little tingles spreading along your arm. But when Osamu squinted at you with an adorable pout fixing onto his lips, your resolve to continue the performance was completely obliterated. He was only playing along with your charade, and yet his response had led you to shift tactics. “Good thing I like cheese!”

Amazing save, right?

“Yeah, good thing.” The forced retort granted the cook a surge of confidence, and in a surprising movement, he leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose. The exchange forced an imaginary clog to immediately form inside your throat. Needless to say, you did not see that coming.

In an attempt to dismiss the swirl of emotions his action instigated, you pushed away from him, before beginning down the pathway. Issuing a cough to clear your passageways, your attention was forced onto a random building. “Okay, come on. We’ve got a fifteen-minute walk to go. Follow me.”

Exhaling a laugh mixed with a sigh, he nodded, trailing close behind you.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, y/n.”

The journey to the botanical garden was mostly filled with playful banter, and half-hearted laughter. Somehow you had successfully managed to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine – that your relationship was not littered in punctures. It was peaceful; the fantasy you had created. It was safe.

The botanical garden that Osamu had selected for your first stop was laid out in the style of a French garden, with a green house that resembled a crystal palace. Breathtaking was surely an understatement, and for the first time since you joined him, Osamu found himself entranced by something other than your presence. Tightening his grip around your hand, he gently brushed his thumb against your skin in a soothing manner.

“This is incredible.” The proclamation was accompanied by a wide-eyed expression. He was never into gardens; but even he was in awe at the sight ahead.

Humming in agreement, you shifted your attention to the centre fountain. It was your favourite spot on the land, and consequently where you took a picture of teddiursa for your Instagram page.

“It feels like a fairy-tale garden, huh?”

The suggestion forced him to return his gaze to you, prompting you to raise an eyebrow quizzically.  

“With you here, it sure does.” He was evidently pleased with the corny statement, a fact that could be ascertained by the little twitch of his mouth. He was clearly attempting to suppress his laughter.

“You better not be saying I am a princess, because you and I both know that is not true.” Contorting your features in artificial irritation, a little huff was discharged. But the theatrics were dismantled when he voiced his explanation, replacing irritation with surprise.

“Oh, of course not. But even demons need a place to live.”

“Demon?!” Halting abruptly on the path, your mouth opened and shut twice as you struggled to find a suitable response.

“Not just a demon, the prettiest demon.” Finally releasing the laughter, he stored inside his chest, he tugged you into his embrace, before pressing his cheek against your head. A growl erupted inside of your throat as you begrudgingly rested your forehead against his chest.

“Yeah yeah. Nice save.”

A comfortable silence blanketed over you two as you began along the pathway, observing and admiring the flower-filled beds and impeccably manicured geometric lawns. However, comfort slowly morphed into distress as you wandered deeper into the vined arches that connected the greenhouse and the “garden of senses”. Without the distraction of conversation, it was straining to drown out the whispers issued by the little voice inside your head. The whispers gradually increased in volume until you could no longer differentiate your own voice from the creatures fuelling your anxiety.

It won’t last – this isn’t real. It is solely a fantasy you have forced upon yourself to cope. He doesn’t love you like he did – no matter what you do now… your love will always be infected with a fatal disease.

The featured attraction hosted only two other visitors; a couple.  The happiness emanating from the couple stole the tiniest bit of sanity you were clinging to.  And when the stranger knelt down on one knee, reaching for an item in his jacket, nausea bubbled inside your stomach. The sight should have not twisted your guts, tangling your organs – but it did. And it hurt. God, it hurt.

“Hey, come here.”

Despite the waves of agony that came packaged with the sight ahead; you could not stop watching. Not until your fiancé’s voice broke you from your trance. As you rubbed away at the tears hanging onto your lashes, Osamu guided you along the path until you reached an isolated portion of the garden. Once you were alone, and no longer in earshot of any others, he released your hand, then brushed through his hair in frustration.

“I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to act okay, y/n. You don’t have to force yourself to be happy.” The frustration was aimed at himself, for inadvertently pushing for some sense of normalcy. It was selfish for him to have wanted it – to have hoped for it.  

“Well shit, guess I blew my cover.” The comment was coated in sarcasm, though you intended for it to sound lighter than it did. The tears resting upon the pads of your fingers did not also help the tense atmosphere.

“I need you to know that you have every right to be angry. You’re allowed to hate me!” The latter of the sentence was vocalized in a lower octave, a detail that only brought you to feel defeated. Because you don’t hate him, and you can’t hate him. “I deserve it all. But if we really want to move on, it can’t be like this.” Unsure what to do with himself, he shifted on the spot uncomfortably, tugging at his roots.

“You idiot. I don’t hate you. I hate this situation. I hate that it got to this.” Dragging a palm down your visage, a groan was muffled. “It’s fine. Can we just enjoy this, please?”

Just keep pretending that it’s okay. Keep pretending. Please. Let me keep pretending.

“No. I can’t enjoy it when you’re hurting.” Shaking his head, sorrow crossed his face, molding his features. “Talk to me. Tell me what I can do to lessen the pain.” A small step was advanced closer, he was seconds from capturing you in his arms once more, desperate to fix the pieces he damaged.

But his ambitions were momentarily abandoned when rageful sentiments ripped from your throat. “I want to start over. I want to erase what happened! Can you do that, ‘Samu?! Do you have a damn magic pencil and a magic storybook that can fix everything?!” Clenching your teeth, your eyelids narrowed into daggers. Of course, your question was unreasonable, you knew that. But you were exhausted, so damn exhausted and you didn’t care.

You genuinely expected him to point out the flaws in your request, yet instead you were met with laughter. Pressing a palm against his stomach, the cook laughed loudly, even stumbling a step back in the process. At this point it was impossible to tell who was the insane one – him or you.

“Are you laughing at my pain, you sadistic gremlin?” Your mascara heavy eyelids fluttered open and shut as you strived to comprehend what was occurring.

Osamu raised a finger, silently requesting that you abandon your accusations as he composed himself.

“No. I’m laughing at the fact you’re screaming at me and referencing a tv show at the same time. It’s the most you thing you’ve done in a while.” Resuming his mission to eliminate the space between you, he caught your face with both of his palms, before aligning his forehead with yours. His reasons for breaking into laughter held some logic, but a pout still registered onto your mouth. And even with your foreheads connected, you averted your stare, unable to maintain eye contact. “Listen to me, y/n. I don’t have a magic pencil, or a magic storybook. And don’t even think of asking if I have a hot tub time machine. But I will do whatever I can to make this right. Just tell me… something reasonable.”

For a moment, you chewed on the inside of your cheek, contemplating what answer to bestow upon him. In the end, your heart took reign of your vocal cords, leaving your brain face palming in shame. “I wanna redo these last three months.”

Woops, you said it.

Osamu blinked down at you, mulling over your strange request. If he could snap his fingers and go back in time, he would. But maybe there was another way to accomplish this goal. Inhaling a breath, he nudged his nose against yours in effort to gain your wandering attention. “Okay. Let’s do that. I’ll reset our phones, and calendars. We can do it right. You can do more gigs and I’ll follow you around the world. I won’t miss a single thing.” The proposal did not contain a single hint of humour, he needed you to know that he was serious.

“Really?” His words impelled a fluttering sensation to bloom inside your chest. The fact he was even entertaining your bizarre request was astounding. It was enough to nourish the seed of hope that was planted with his arrival.

“Yeah. Really.” Lowering his face, he guided his mouth to yours. The tenderest kiss was applied to your lips, lasting barely a minute. You loved how you could taste the sweetness of the tea he had earlier in the day. How his lips fit against yours perfectly. And mostly, you loved that this time, the action did not fill you with fear for the future.

You were simply… hopeful, and maybe a little bit excited.

“So what do you say, y/n? Let’s do it again, shall we?” 

Let’s do it again, shall we - let’s do it again 

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: after battling with tumblr for days, I AM OVER THIS. :( BUT THANK YOU GUYS FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND STAYING BY ME EVEN THO I POST SO SLOWLY ;-;-; YOU GUYS ARE WONDERFUL. 

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[sendrickbecs]

Unspoken Feelings (2/8)

"Who's ready to get their party on?" Amy bellows from the kitchen of the Bella house but her voice is so loud that she manages to travel throughout the entire house and soon enough every member of the a Capella group – minus one – is gathered in the kitchen with huge smiles on their faces.

Everyone is smiling but there's one expression that differentiates from the others. The smile belonging to the beautiful, bubbly redhead isn't as exaggerated. She's only smiling slightly, her lips lifting upwards enough to pass as a grin but if anyone was to examine her expression more intensely, they'd realise it's fake. Chloe can't seem to meet the other girls excitement, she'd been looking forward to the treble's party at the beginning of the week but now that Friday night has finally came around all she wants to do is shuffle back upstairs and crawl into her bed.

She knows the reasoning behind her dampened mood, the reason why she's found herself feeling so glum lately. But she doesn't allow herself to acknowledge that, so when Jessica asks, "What's wrong?" all Chloe can come out with is "Period cramps." Which is understood by the other girls, so they don't question her further.

It's been three days since the last Bellas rehearsal, which definitely wouldn't have happened whilst Aubrey was the captain of the Bellas. The last two scheduled practices were cancelled by the redhead because she had the flu, or at least that's what she told the other girls. But Chloe hasn't been sick in years, her healthy breakfast smoothies and scheduled workout routine are very important factors of her life. She doesn't have the flu. She isn't even sick, not really, yet she still feels like shit.

She's running on two hours of sleep and the headache she's currently nursing feels like something is squeezing her eyeballs out. She lay in bed last night staring out the window, counting the stars before getting distracted and starting again. This lasted for about an hour before Chloe realised she had started to zone out, so she shuffled in her position all night until her eyelids eventually slipped shut nearing four in the morning.

She is so frustrated and tired but the exhaustion she's feeling is not the type of tired that sleep will fix – she could sleep for twelve hours and wake up feeling the same way she's been feeling for weeks, months even.

So what the hell is wrong with her?

Chloe tells herself that she's been so stressed lately because she's simply been overworking herself, to ensure that the Bella's routines is perfect and poised. Her anxieties about leaving the Bella's had geared their way into her head. The Bella's – the a Capella group itself and the people in it – are her life and they have been for years. She just isn't ready to let that go yet. Chloe is terrified of leaving the Bella's – leaving Beca.

Jumping into the unknown is such a horrifying thought for her and she doesn't know how to overcome it. Aubrey graduated and moved on without her – they still skype and text each other but she isn't around every day (or rarely ever) like she used to be so Chloe can't talk to her about the way she's feeling. Beca would also be someone she vents to but Beca's being distant and cold so she can't talk to her either.

Chloe is beginning to feel so alone, they haven't even graduated yet and everyone is already leaving her. And that scares her so fucking much – being alone, being forgotten.

But it's not just that, Chloe knows the main reason behind her funk. She knows exactly what – who – is making her feel like this. Beca effin' Mitchell.

She's so scared of being without Beca, but the way Beca is purposely distancing herself from her because she doesn't want to be around her makes her feel like she's already lost her.

She hates herself for allowing Beca to become so important in her life that she can't imagine ever living without the brunette, she doesn't ever want to live without her. But Chloe knows it's going to happen, at some point along the line, Beca will leave her. Whatever the two of them share won't last forever. They will graduate and they'll go their separate ways. Beca will do amazingly wonderful things with her music, hopefully becoming a producer like she's always dreamed of. She's worked hard for it, so she definitely deserves to have her dreams come true.

The older girl admires the other for staying at the campus radio station for so long even though she was just stacking cd's and records. She never stopped putting herself out there, giving Luke USBs of her mashups every week even though she knew he just tossed them onto a pile.

Then when Beca got her internship at residential heat she hadn't told Chloe about it – choosing to keep it a secret from her – from everyone except Jesse. When Beca finally snapped and told Chloe about the internship she admitted that she was afraid of failure, she didn't want to tell Chloe because she was scared it wouldn't work out and she didn't want the redhead to think she's a failure. But she could never be a failure in Chloe's eyes. Beca was perfect – her imperfections and insecurities only made Chloe love her more.

Chloe would still love Beca if she failed completely in the music industry and worked in retail for the rest of her life. Not that Chloe would ever let that happen, she wouldn't let Beca ever give up on her dreams. Becoming a music producer is the one and only thing Beca has ever wanted, and at times that hurts Chloe – knowing that Beca will never want her as much. But she loves that Beca has never given up despite her father's negative words and discouragement. She loves that Beca inspires herself to continue, to keep trying, to keep moving forwards. She doesn't let anyone hold her back.

But what Chloe doesn't know, is that Beca does in fact have an inspiration that allows her to thrive, someone she relies on for words of wisdom, someone that motivates her when she just wants to give in to her frustration and throw her keyboard across the room (not that Beca would ever do that – her music equipment is too expensive to replace). Someone that always makes her smile when she's so close to breaking. Someone that makes the beat of her mashups flow so easily.

Beca has an inspiration – a muse.

Her name is Chloe Beale.

Chloe hasn't got the flu. She hasn't been sick in years. She just misses Beca. She misses her so much it's effecting her physical and mental health.

On the first day that Chloe was hauled up in her room, lying in her bed covered with blankets, the Bella's tried to make her feel better. Flo made her some soup – she swore it had some kind of magic healing herbs in it. But Chloe wasn't hungry, the last thing she wanted to do was eat. Although Chloe felt like the life had been sucked out of her, she's still Chloe Beale. She didn't want to offend Flo by not eating the soup, so she waited for her to leave and flushed it down the toilet. The Bella's usually cheered her up when she felt glum but even their best efforts just were not enough.

"Chloe?"

Chloe is snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of her name. "Huh?"

"Are you coming?" Stacie asks. Cynthia Rose looks up and down at Chloe's outfit – sweatpants, hoodie and a blanket – and scoffs slightly.

In response, the redhead shrugs, with a light shake of her head. "I'm not really feeling up to it."

Chloe has no plans to leave the house any time soon and certainly not to go to a treble party. She just wants to wallow in bed with a tub of ice cream. So, the redhead moves around the other girls until she reaches the freezer, pulling open the door and retrieving a tub of peanut butter and cookie dough ice cream. Beca's peanut butter and cookie dough ice cream that no one dare touch, too afraid of the threat made by the small brunette. 'If you touch my ice cream, I'll hunt you down and kick your ass so hard into next year AND make holes in every condom in this house.' It was an empty threat, considering how at least half of the girls are gay, and those who aren't are on birth control but Beca thought it was threatening at the time. At least it's a one up from Aubrey's threat to have wolves rip out your vocal cords.

Once Chloe has selected a spoon and span around to face the other girls, she's just about to head back upstairs but Amy stops her by grabbing her wrist.

"Uh...that's Beca's." She says, glancing down at the ice cream tub then back up at the redhead. Amy's eyebrows are knitted as she examines Chloe's expression – a hard scowl.

"I know." She replies, shaking off Amy's hand and gliding passed her.

The other Bellas watch, no one adding to the conversation. They've all noticed the differences in their co-captain's behaviour but don't know the reasoning behind it. "She'll kill you," Fat Amy hisses as thinks about what the big (small) mighty Beca Mitchell will do when she finds out someone has been eating her ice cream.

Chloe doesn't respond, unbothered by the second-hand threat, because if Beca is killing her then at least she'll actually be looking at her.

"She'll rip all your condoms." Stacie adds.

That finally forces some kind of reaction out of Chloe, she chuckles to herself, thinking about how the only person she actually wants to fuck is Beca and condoms aren't exactly needed for that, unless what Beca had yelled at Aubrey after one of the very first Bellas rehearsals Beca's freshman year had been true. Maybe Beca did have a dick after all, that would explain why she acts like a dick most of the time.

"Chloe?" Amy tries again.

Her head snaps up and she's met with the gaze of every Bella. "What?"

"What's going on with you?" Stacie steps forwards, concern written in her eyes.

Stacie's soft expression gives Chloe the overwhelming urge to cry, she feels tears begin to form in her eyes but blinks them away immediately. She can't cry in front of the entire group; she is supposed to be one of their captains. But she hasn't felt like much of a leader lately and isn't sure why anyone would want to follow her.

"Nothing." Chloe shakes her head, eyes darting to her bare feet, then scooping a small spoonful of the ice cream and sliding it into her mouth.

"You're acting like Beca," Amy admits, causing a few of the Bellas to gasp and step back. Jessica and Ashley share a glance, and within seconds they are disappearing from the kitchen.

"What?" Chloe's tone is harsher now, alerting Amy that she crossed the line.

"You're being cold, you know, like Mitchell is at times."

Chloe scoffs and tightens her jaw – she doesn't even realise she's doing it until she picks up on the look Amy is giving her. "I'm not." She denies, even though she's quite clearly adapted some of Beca's mannerisms.

"You know what always helps Beca when she's in these funks?" The blonde's grin widens and her eyes glisten in excitement. Usually Chloe thrives off of other people's excitement with her own but today the happy expression only makes her feel like crying again.

"A party." Fat Amy answers herself before Chloe can intervene.

Chloe groans again and crosses her arms over her chest. "No Amy, I wasn't going to go. I don't feel well, remember?"

"Bullshit." Fat Amy is not one to take no for an answer, "Go get tarted up."

Chloe's frown grows in confusion at the use of the word. What is she talking about now? "Tarted?"

"Yeah." Fat Amy nods, "You know, like Beca Is a vanilla tart." Chloe is getting beyond peeved because they won't shut up about Beca. Why does Amy have to keep on bringing her up?

Stacie obviously acknowledges the confusion from Chloe, so she laughs and steps forwards once again, "She means slutty." She whispers to Chloe with a slight grin.

"Go get slutty, Beale. And don't take too long." Amy quirks up, telling Chloe that she's been defeated. There is no way she's getting out of this one. So, she puts the ice cream back in the freezer before waltzing away upstairs.

Twenty minutes later Chloe emerges back downstairs wearing a dark blue dress and a leather jacket. Her makeup is light, and her hair sits loosely on her back. Getting dressed up has somewhat improved her mood so there's a soft smile at her lips.

Stacie smirks when she sees Chloe appear at the bottom of the stairs. "You look hot," She says, glancing over Chloe's body with a smile. She gets a smile and a 'thank you, so do you' in return before the group heads out the front door.

The Bellas make their way across the grass towards the hedge. One by one each of the girls squeeze through the Amy-sized gap in the hedge into the treble's garden. The damage to the hedge was formed at a party last semester that was hosted by the Bellas – at Stacie's request. Amy drank a little too much of hers and Lily's alcoholic concoction (to this day no one knows what the last three ingredients were but there was definitely a mixture of gin and rum) and decided it would be a great idea to mark her 'sexy fat ass' in the hedge.

She hates herself for it but as soon as she's been sucked into the crowd, Chloe's eyes scan frantically in search for the small brunette. She knows Beca has been staying at the treble house for the past few days so it would make sense if she was at their party too. Although Beca isn't normally a party animal, Chloe has a feeling she might be here. Maybe that feeling is hope, or longing but Chloe brushes it off. She's hated not having Beca around for the last three days and she just wants her best friend back, even if it does hurt like hell whenever she's around her.

It takes almost half an hour before she finally sets eyes on Beca. She's dancing with Jesse and the two of them look pretty comfortable. The sight alone is enough for Chloe to regret coming. Why did she have to let Amy convince her to come?

The rule of not 'fraternising with the enemy' was banished as soon as Aubrey graduated and Beca and Chloe became co-captains. Beca thought it was a stupid rule and Chloe thought it was kind of ridiculous, so they got rid of it. But that meant Jesse was around a lot more. Even though Beca and Jesse aren't official – they haven't even hooked up but have definitely locked lips once or twice – it still frustrates Chloe to see the two of them together.

She's about to turn around and head back to the Bellas house when the brunette looks up and their eyes connect across the pool. Beca's face lights up when she sees Chloe and she waves her hand, gesturing for her to come over. Chloe has a hard time escaping the younger girl's trance, so she finds herself wandering over to the two brunettes.

As soon as the two girls are standing in front of each other, Chloe pulls Beca into an embrace, she's missed Beca's hugs, so she shoves aside her feelings just to feel Beca's hands on her for a few seconds before Beca pulls back.

"Hey, Chloe." Beca smirks.

All Chloe has to do is look at Beca and instantly feel happier. Seeing the younger girls smile makes Chloe's lips curl into a smile of her own. "Hey, Becs." She says, suddenly feeling lighter than she's been in days – normally she'd blame it on the alcohol, but she hasn't even had a drink yet.

"Feeling better?" The brunette questions, her hand still on Chloe's wrist which makes the redhead's skin glow with warmth. Chloe nods, but her smile falters when her head become heavy all of a sudden. Beca notices the change in her expression and gives Chloe's wrist a quick squeeze before letting go. "You okay, Chlo?"

The loss of contact allows Chloe to fix her brain after it's turned to a pile of mush. She puts a smile on her face which Beca can clearly tell is fake, then takes a step back. Chloe gestures to the yellow cup in her hand, "Yeah. I'm going to get a drink."

Beca nods, not daring to question the girls' weirdness, she knows Chloe hasn't been feeling well recently so brushes it off as still not quite over the flu. She knows that if she pushes Chloe to talk then she'll end up comforting her and when Chloe is emotional all Beca wants to do is pull her into her chest and hug her. But Beca can't do that. She won't allow herself to. Beca can't get too attached to her best friend because nobody ever stays in her life for long – not even her parents wanted to stay in her life.

As much as Beca's brain tells her to shut the hell up, her heart and her eyes clearly have different ideas. Her gaze drifts to her best friend as she walks away. She doesn't mean to, but her eyes drop to Chloe's ass and Beca stares in appreciation. She tells herself that she's just appreciating the appearance of her best friend – it would be weird if she didn't find her best friend attractive. But maybe watching her ass as she walks away goes beyond the 'just friends' barrier.

She knows she's been distant recently, but she just thought that Chloe wouldn't notice – or care. Beca shuts her feelings away and pretends not to feel, but watching the redhead walk away makes something ignite in her chest, it's powerful and it forces something to snap inside of her.

With a grunt, Beca tears her eyes off of Chloe. It feels like everything is changing with the two of them, or maybe it already has changed. Whatever it is makes Beca's mind race. Is Chloe going to walk out of her life forever? Has Beca pushed her so far away that she's now beyond reach? Beca's heart speeds up at the mere thought of Chloe leaving her, because without Chloe where the hell would she be? What would a future without Chloe be like? It's lame, but Beca's always imagined that Chloe would be in her life forever, but what if she's pushed her away for the very last time? That would honestly crush her. Life without Chloe would be pretty shit.

Beca only panics more when she questions why she feels this way. She can't have feelings for Chloe, can she? Not only is she her best friend, she's also a girl.

Beca's never defined her sexuality, she knows she isn't straight but she's not a lesbian either. The aspect of sexuality confuses her so much, so she mostly just chooses to ignore it, allowing people to assume whatever they want about her.

For Beca, it's not about what's in people's pants, personality is a very important factor.

But boobs are also pretty great.

Okay, so maybe she's more attracted to girls, but there's still a part of her that finds guys hot.

Just to prove to herself that the physical attraction towards guys is still there, she walks over to the first guys she sees, which just happens to be Jesse. Before he can even greet her, she's taking his arm and leading him over to the edge of the pool where there are multiple people dancing.

It helps that she knows Jesse likes her – is practically in love with her. She grins when she notices the frown appear, tugging his lips down slightly. "Dance with me, dummy."

. . .

It's been about an hour and a half since they last talked and Chloe was getting agitated, watching Beca grind on Jesse is definitely not something she had planned on watching but she can't seem to look away. She hates that Beca dances like that with him but won't even touch her.

Beca is also not having such a great time. She is regretting pulling Jesse up to dance quite a lot now, his hands are trailing all over her body and they just feel so uncomfortable, especially when they rest on her ass. She quickly snaps her own hands down to retrieve his hands and put them on her waist. She hates his hands there too, but it doesn't make her as uncomfortable.

Her mind drifts slightly to the Bellas rehearsals the other day. The dance with Chloe had been on her mind since she left the auditorium three days ago. She remembers the way her skin felt all tingly and warm whenever Chloe ran her fingers over her hip. Those very memorable, exhilarating feelings are very much not present right now. Dancing with Jesse just feels...bland.

Suddenly Beca's mind floods with need – the need to touch Chloe again. Her gaze scans her surroundings until her eyes are locked with her favourite pair of eyes – her favourite colour.

But the longer she stares at the girl, the more she acknowledges how sad she looks, and that makes Beca's heart crack. She pulls away from Jesse's grasp and makes a gesture for a drink, then speeds away from him before he can stop her.

She's such an idiot for dancing with him just to prove a point to herself – it had not been proved.

Her heart races as she approaches the redhead and her palms sweating slightly. She's grinning again and before she knows it, her heart is taking control without giving her brain a chance to catch up.

"Oh. Hey, Becs." Chloe chuckles nervously as Beca flops herself down right on top of Chloe's lap. She isn't complaining, because having Beca sit on her lap does something weird to her body and makes her heart flutter slightly, but she's a little confused as to why Beca is so comfortable with the contact. Normally, the younger girl doesn't even like holding her hand in public, so it causes Chloe to question the girls' actions.

"Chloooeee." Beca squeals.

"You're drunk." Chloe states, watching the girl in her lap with a smile.

A smile that only grows the longer she's looking at her, one she wishes could shrivel into a frown, but no matter how much she wishes she could be angry at Beca for lying to her, for spending time with Jesse instead of her and for not returning the feelings she has towards the girl, she just can't. Chloe cannot bring herself to get mad at her friend, especially when she looks up at her with those beautiful dark blue eyes that Chloe swears are enchanted.

There's also the lip bite. Beca Mitchell's fucking lip bite. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and Chloe finds it so unbelievably attractive.

It's her fault she feels this way anyway, so she shouldn't get mad at Beca just because she may be slightly – only slightly – jealous. Beca doesn't feel the same way about her so she just needs to get over her feelings.

She can't stay mad at Beca, and that's what is so damn frustrating, because Beca messes with her head – she's ice cold one minute and the next she's sitting on her lap smiling widely and being so damn cute and loving towards the redhead. It confuses her so much.

"And you're not drunk enough." Beca sighs heavily, "Amy's drinks are even better than last time." She quirks her head up so she's looking directly at the redhead. The girl moves closer to Chloe and lowers her voice as she whispers, "There's a lot of gin." And then a chuckle follows, Chloe feeling the hot breath on her ear and running down her neck.

When Beca drinks gin, she gets giggly and very touchy. Unlike when she strictly sticks to beer, she gets overly competitive and cocky, which usually ends with a broken piece of furniture – Beca and whoever is willing to accept her challenge battling over a game of indoor football until the ball flies towards something, sending it to the ground with a clunk.

Both of those sides of Beca are loved by her best friend, unless she drinks too much of either and ends up on the bathroom floor with her head on the toilet seat. But even then – when Beca is a complete mess, puking from the combination of too much alcohol and lack of food, Chloe is still by her side, holding her hair away from her face and stroking the brunette's back in a soothing manner.

Chloe grimaces lightly at the mention of Amy's concoction. So that's why Beca is so carefree, she's had an 'Amy special' or maybe more than one. Amy's drinks are so strong that a lightweight like Beca only needs one to get absolutely hammered.

"Why are you being a bum in the corner?" Beca asks, looking up at the redhead with such a sincere expression that it makes Chloe's chest tighten. To make matters worse, the brunette lifts her hand up and pokes Chloe's cheek faintly, "You seem sad." She adds, her expression softening.

"Not in the mood." She responds, earning another poke in the cheek with an additional one to the nose. Chloe can't hold back the giggle and Beca's grin widens.

"This is a party, Beale." Beca mentions, and the seriousness to her tone almost makes Chloe snort.

"Mmmh." Chloe nods, "You should get back to Jesse." She doesn't know what made her say that because there is no way she's losing Beca to Jesse again tonight. Beca is hers. Chloe has never liked to share.

A small whine leaves Beca's lips, "No. I want to stay with you." She nestles her head into Chloe's neck, squirming slightly as she inhales her scent.

Beca Mitchell. No fucking way. Don't fucking do this. You know you shouldn't-

"You smell nice, Chlo." Beca mumbles, her mouth is close enough to Chloe's ear, so she hears it even over the loud music. A chuckle escapes Chloe's mouth and she lifts a hand up to cover her face, attempting to hide the blush from Beca.

"Thanks, Bec." Chloe replies after a few seconds, the blushing on her cheeks still very much visible. She can't deny that Beca's compliments, or just Beca in general has an effect on her.

"And your comfy." She adds, shuffling slightly on Chloe's lap, pressing her back into Chloe's front.

Chloe tries her hardest to think about anything to distract herself from the fact that Beca's ass is partially grinding into her as Beca adjusts her position on her lap. But she's blushing before she can stop herself and the movement is making her entire body weak under her touch.

Chloe's grinning, her cheeks rose tinted from blushing so hard, "Yeah?"

"Mmh." Beca sighs with a small nod, relaxing into Chloe's body, allowing the older girls arm to slip around her waist and hold her in place. Beca pulls her head back and rests it against her shoulder, slotting perfectly with Chloe's body.

The position of the two girls is so natural, they are at peace whilst sitting like this, in the comfort of each other's presence, but it's also kind of...wrong. Beca is sat on Chloe's lap with her head leaning against the redhead's shoulder. Their hands are intertwined on the brunette's denim clad thigh where she's running the fingers of her left hand over Chloe's fingers, stopping to play with a ring, twisting it slowly and moving on to repeat the action with another.

This is what she wants. She wants Chloe. But she just doesn't know how to express that.

She's better at doing – showing, than saying, so that's what she does. She's showing Chloe that she wants to touch her, she wants Chloe to touch her.

Beca wants to kiss her, wants to know what Chloe will do if she tries to kiss her. She wants to feel what Chloe's lips feel like on her own. She imagines they'll be soft. Beca wonders how Chloe's lips will taste and the growing urge intensifies.

Before Beca can even consider making a move, Cynthia Rose, Flo and Emily appear at their side.

"We're heading back to the house. You two coming?" Cynthia Rose questions, eyeing the two girls as if she's searching for the reasoning behind why Beca is sat on Chloe's lap. The chairs around them are free so Beca doesn't have to sit on her lap – she chose to.

"Yeah," Beca says but doesn't attempt to move which makes Chloe giggle.

Chloe shuffles underneath her, reaching her hand to push a strand of Beca's hair behind her ear. "You might want to get up Bec," Chloe mumbles close to Beca's ear, her breath running up her neck.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, okay." Chloe chuckles again. Beca is pretty drunk and it's like she doesn't quite know what to do with herself.

She stands up with the help of Cynthia Rose and then holds out her hand for Chloe. Beca is too drunk to realise but Cynthia Rose is still looking at them strangely, but she still grasps onto the brunette's hand. Beca sighs heavily and rests her head against Chloe's chest, looking up at her with tired eyes which make Chloe swoon. All that runs through Chloe's mind is how adorable Beca is in this moment.

"Come on, Becs. Let's get you home." Chloe presses a chaste kiss to Beca's cheek and nudges her upright. Beca mumbles something under her breath then stumbles forwards, catching up with Cynthia Rose.

Chloe follows behind, thinking about how she gets to take Beca home and not Jesse, granted that she is not planning on having sex with her but she cares so much about her and loves that she can care for Beca in ways Jesse can't.

Instead of going through the hole in the hedge again, Cynthia Rose leads them through the gate, Beca waiting back for Chloe. The brunette smiles softly and Chloe can't fight the smile that breaks out on her face.

The house is silent when they walk in so they must be the first to leave the party which is not a surprise because Stacie and Fat Amy barely ever return from a trebles party that same night.

Cynthia Rose heads straight to the kitchen for some water whilst Flo and Emily sluggishly lift themselves up the stairs towards their rooms. The other two girls are close behind, but Beca's movement is extra slow and Chloe doesn't want to rush her.

Just as Chloe reaches out to push open her bedroom door, she feels a grip on her wrist.

"Do you want to cuddle?" Beca asks quietly. Chloe almost melts at the small smile on Beca's lips, she looks so adorable and Chloe just wants to reach forwards and press her own lips to Beca's.

"You're a little softie." Chloe giggles.

"Shut up." Beca huffs, "I'm drunk and I'm tired and I want your arms around me."

Beca's own words startle her but she's too drunk – too tired to care right now. She doesn't know why but she wants to be in Chloe's arms – she always felt safe in Chloe's arms and she is too drunk to fight it, the alcohol fighting a battle with her conscious mind and she can feel the alcohol getting more powerful. Beca's mind is too scrambled to figure out exactly why she feels this way, so she doesn't try. Friends can cuddle in bed together without it being weird so Beca just needs to chill the fuck out.

Chloe doesn't tease the brunette further for admitting that she wants – needs – to feel her arms around her because she doesn't want to push the girl too far to the point where she runs away...again. So, she simply reaches for Beca's hand and pulls her into her bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them. In the Bella's house privacy is treasured, and very much needed when you have the likes of Amy walking into every room without knocking. She even walked into the bathroom one time whilst Beca was peeing because Beca forgot to lock the door behind her. Amy was a girl with absolutely no boundaries. Almost like Chloe, except, when it came to Beca, the redhead never once pushed her limits. She wanted Beca to feel safe and cared for, so she never once did anything to make the younger girl feel uncomfortable – except, maybe that one time in the dorm shower. But that is definitely not a regret.

Beca – who is too drunk to even realise what she's doing right now – shimmies out of her skinny jeans and tosses them to the bedroom floor. She lifts up her gaze and locks eyes with Chloe who's already on the bed, but still wearing her dress from the party.

"Are you gonna strip?" Beca asks, a playful smile pulling at her lips.

"What?" The Redhead splutters out – had she just heard that correctly?

Beca whines softly, followed by a small laugh. "You aren't going to sleep in that dress. Hurry up, I want to cuddle."

Chloe's eyebrows quirk upwards at Beca's words. "Who are you and what have you done to Beca Mitchell?"

The brunette smirks, "If you tell anyone about this I'll kill you." It's another one of her empty threats.

"No you won't, you love me too much." Chloe teases, and Beca caves, dropping the threat instantly.

She scoffs "You're lucky you're pretty."

Beca turns around, venturing over to Chloe's drawers and pulling out some shorts and a t-shirt for Chloe and a hoodie for herself. She chucks the clothes in Chloe's direction and slides the hoodie over herself, pulling off her bra and t shirt in the process.

When she looks up at Chloe, she's already lying under the duvet, wrapped up like a little burrito and it's the most adorable thing.

"Come here." Chloe says, and pulls back the duvet just enough so Beca can slide underneath it and into Chloe's embrace.

Almost instantly Chloe wraps her arm around Beca's waist and the smaller girl snuggles into her.

"Night Chlo." Beca mumbles, feeling her eyelids grow heavier.

"Goodnight cutie." Chloe whispers into the back of the brunette's neck, her lips inches from the skin.

She can't resist calling her the pet name because Beca is so cute right now and she wants her to know that. Chloe gets to see Beca at some of her most vulnerable states and she loves that not many other people do. She's sure that Beca and Jesse haven't had sex but that doesn't mean they aren't ever going to, especially with the way the pair were dancing with each other tonight. But Chloe takes a minute to remind herself that Beca has ended up in her bed, not Jesse's. Granted, they aren't having sex but simply sleeping together in each other's grasps can be more intimate than sex. You are allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable. A smile spreads across Chloe's face when she feels Beca's hold on her wrist tighten a little as she snuggles closer into her.

Chloe thinks that she might be able to get through this without crumbling. She's pretended for the last two years that she isn't completely smitten over her best friend, so what's one more?

It's going to be hard and it will probably break her more times than she can count but being Beca's friend is worth that pain. Beca is worth that. Chloe thinks she's worth everything.

She missed Beca so much in the three days they didn't talk, and it hurt so much knowing she was avoiding her, distancing herself from her. Chloe doesn't know why Beca shuts herself off from others, but she thinks she gets it – it's easier to hide than to pretend. Chloe wishes she could hide from Beca so she would not have to look at her, knowing she'll never be loved by the brunette entirely. But there's a part of her that knows she would still be filled with pain because she'd be without her. She wants Beca with her, and if pretending they're only friends is what Beca wants then Chloe is willing to keep it that way. She'd rather see her every day and have to pretend not to be in love with her.

She can still love her; she just won't allow herself to be in love with her. Because there's no way she's letting Beca Mitchell walk out of her life completely.

- - - -

also on wattpad: @writteninbechloe

[desertdollranch]

I’m thinking about rewigging one of my dolls but have no idea where to start. Where would I get a new wig and do you have advice as to how go about it?

I do!  Here is my tutorial for rewigging your doll. It can seem pretty daunting at first, but I promise that once you’re on the other side, you’ll be glad you tried. The worst case scenario is that you rip a hole in the old wig, but if you’re not keeping it or selling it then that’s not a problem to worry about. Putting the new wig on is definitely the easiest part of the process. 

If a picture and text tutorial isn’t quite enough, or you learn better through videos, search “how to rewig american girl dolls” on YouTube and you’ll find lots of step by step tutorials there.

For finding wigs, you have a lot of options. I’ll give you all that I know.    When you are shopping around, keep in mind that 18 inch American Girl dolls wear a size 11 wig, which refers to the circumference of their heads in inches. 

If there’s a specific American Girl doll wig that you want, you might have luck searching on eBay.com or Mercari.com. Search “american girl wig” and you’ll get lots of results. If you’re wanting a particular color or from a specific doll, add the name or color to your search terms. So for example you’d search “american girl samantha wig” or “american girl brown wig”. You may not find the wig you want right away, but keep checking back or set up a search alert for when someone lists one. Be mindful of TLC in the description, which means that it may have flaws or imperfections.  

Exquisite Doll Designs has a big selection of doll wigs in a variety of colors. The average price is around $35, which reflects the very high quality of hair. I’ve put a few of these on other peoples’ dolls, and the hair is so soft and thick. 

ZaZou Custom Dolls has very nice doll wigs that run about $30-$40 as well. A few of them are textured hair if that’s what you’re looking for. 

Doll of a Kind is another custom wig shop with a similar price range and variety of colors.

Monique.com has a huge selection, although not all of them are available in the 11 inch size, so make sure you’ve got the right size if you buy. They also have wigs made from different fibers like synthetic mohair, and with AG dolls I would strongly recommend sticking with modacrylic only. I’ve used two wigs from this site and they were very good quality. I ordered one wig and they threw in a second wig as a free sample, which I thought was very nice. 

Other wig dealers on Etsy: Basics for Dolls and Bbeauty Designs. I haven’t used these shops but they seem to be highly rated.

Good luck! 

[thenugking]

Grand Academy For Future Villains II: Attack of the Sequel, Chapter 5: Bride of Chapter Five. A commentary for Three.

General CW for the whole thing: parental abuse, internalised dehumanisation as a trauma response. Three’s not doing well.

No specific warnings for this chapter except for a typo my friends have been teasing me about for weeks.

Game 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Game 2

Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Alternatively, read on Google Docs here

***

"Well obviously," says Professor Ulik, faintly irritated. "I thought you were a bit cleverer than that,Three, I really did. Yes, but specifically I need you to make sure that one of my classes is on the auditor's schedule. You may use whatever methods you please to get it there. The less I know, the better."

Her message communicated, Professor Ulik returns to her papers. You begin to consider your situation. This would be an unparalleled opportunity to ensure Professor Ulik's selection for a tenured position and what else are you here for, anyway?

But how to get an audience with the newly-arrived auditor?

#Val's on the Board of Visitors and Overlords. I'm going to consult zir about this situation.

This isn’t particularly helpful to Three’s intention to stay as far away from the auditors as  possible. Their first plan is still to ask DarkBoard if they’re able to alter Goul’s schedule, but when DarkBoard gives a foreboding speech about how they shouldn’t meddle in forces far beyond their control,  (Three is pretty sure DarkBoard’s scared of the auditors but don’t want to admit it,) they realise they’re going to have to talk to these people. This hopefully won’t be overly dangerous, after all, they are excellent at being helpful to important people, and tend to be good at quickly working out the level of grovelling important people prefer, so they’re unlikely to annoy the auditors. The danger that comes with just being around important, powerful people is inevitable, but they hope they can avoid the worst by appearing as a mere supporting character in Ulik’s narrative, unnoticeable to the auditors underneath all her achievements.

The best place to start with this is Val. Scorpius told Three ze was on the Board of Overseers and, while Three has been trying to interact with Val as little as possible, ze’s at least someone they’re able to get an audience with. And--despite a slight annoyance about Scorpius spilling zir secrets--Val apparently either likes them enough, or thinks they’re plot relevant enough, to help.

Ze is, however, going to point out that meeting with the Auditors isn’t the kind of thing people with no narrative weight do. It doesn’t matter what reason Three gives--do they think there isn’t a story in an underdog brave enough to put themself in the firing line of powerful villains they’re frightened of, just out of loyalty to their wise and supportive mentor? And Val has a feeling this isn’t the first time Three’s done this. Three informs them that they are not a hero, or an underdog, or special in any way whatsoever. Val tells them that ze knows better than most how Narrative Weight isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, so ze’s really, genuinely sorry to say this, but that’s not true, Three. Three decides they’d better get over to that meeting before they’re late, so doesn’t have time to listen to Val try and tell them they’re more than just a tool.

The minutes Val showed you indicated that a team of no less than three auditors would be arriving from the Board of Visitors and Overlords. And you're fairly certain you know who this one is.

The falling pieces of the dome leave trails of fire in the air all around you. The air of the artificial atmosphere is rushing upward; the weather programs that the dome once produced are sputtering fitfully. Fish, frogs, bolts of lightning, hailstones and drops of blood tumble at random from the shattering sky.

"Lord X!" you call, as the figure lightly touches down to the earth. "Welcome to the Grand Academy for Future Villains!"

The figure turns towards you, and you see that the upper half of his face is concealed by a black mask like a frozen lava flow. His clothes are rich and close-fitting, his black shirt with silver buttons reaching to the neck, his hands concealed by silver gloves, and a belt around his waist supports a really alarming arsenal of weapons. You spot what looks like an oversized silver revolver, a long sword, a short sword, and a gun that looks strangely familiar. There's also a trowel tucked into a beautifully tooled black leather sheath; there's probably some explanation for this besides being for some sort of demonic gardener. 

"Well done…student," says Lord X.

Val, watching from under the shelter of a black umbrella, gives the slightest of nods to the auditor.

Again, not something Three would have done if Ulik hadn’t wanted them to talk to the auditors, they’d much rather be running to hide right now, or else checking the sudden environmental changes of the world falling apart aren’t adversely affecting DarkBoard. But they do like important people being impressed with them.

As if it overheard your unspoken question—which you suppose it did—the nearest DarkBoard portal begins scrolling through something you recognize as the fine print of your application paperwork. You look at the scrolling text:

…WITHOUT REFUND. THE APPLICANT CONSENTS TO MANDATORY BINDING ARBITRATION IN THE CASE OF ACCIDENTAL OR PURPOSEFUL DISMEMBERMENT, IMPERFECT RESURRECTION, AND OTHER PHYSICAL OR PSYCHIC MODIFICATION UNDERTAKEN VOLUNTARILY OR INVOLUNTARILY IN THE COURSE OF ACADEMIC DUTIES. THE APPLICANT CONSENTS TO THE ACADEMY'S USE OF THEIR IMAGE, DNA, BIOLOGICAL MATERIALS, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY, OFFSPRING IF ANY, WITH OR WITHOUT PRIOR WRITTEN NOTIFICATION. SURVEILLANCE DEVICES MAY BE INSTALLED IN PHYSICAL AND INTELLECTUAL LOCATIONS THROUGHOUT THE ACADEMY INCLUDING BEDROOMS, HEARTS, DREAMS, AND NARRATIVES. THE ACADEMY RESERVES THE RIGHT…

Okay, okay.

It may not be immediately relevant to the current scene, but I think it’s worth noting that students “consent” to the Academy’s use of their offspring. Being the child of an alumnus, Three was a little concerned, if resigned, about that when reading their own application paperwork. Those feelings haven’t completely gone away, but they also realise this could be an excellent excuse if Maedryn ever discovers their loyalty to DarkBoard. She herself signed them away to the Academy before they even existed, and if necessary, Three will remind her that neither of them can complain if DarkBoard wishes to collect on that.

Three has never wanted children themself, but the Academy’s application paperwork just makes them more sure of that.

#Come observe Professor Ulik’s class.

You've kept your bargain with Professor Ulik. Whatever the auditor says, the fact that you faced one of the most powerful beings on the Academy grounds has to count for something.

It's a simple request—so simple the auditor seems taken by surprise. You hold your breath, waiting for an answer. "Of course," says the auditor. "Next week. Of course, we make no promises as to the nature of our judgment. Only of its inevitability."

"Fifteen seconds," pipes the assistant.

Variyah Goul stands up. She does not offer you her hand. "Your career, of course, will be of interest to us, whatever becomes of the school."

"Ten."

"If at the end of the year we find you an individual of sufficient narrative weight…there are certain provisions made for individuals who are fit for a great destiny. I am impressed by hedonism and competence, and the portfolio of destinies I manage are those of grandeur and glory."

"And zero." The assistant escorts you out of the room.

That went… surprisingly well. Three’s alive. They’ve at least slightly impressed two auditors. Goul’s agreed to observe Ulik’s class. Three wasn’t given time to have to pretend to be interested in a destiny.

They are growing increasingly concerned that the Academy’s accreditation may not, in fact, be renewed, but all they have to do is show that a place with teachers as good as Professor Ulik is worthwhile, make sure Maedryn isn’t too stressed by her various responsibilities that the clones stop working, help Sona keep Sci-Fi looking respectable and genre savvy, and do whatever DarkBoard requests to help the Academy run smoothly.

((Side note: I did originally accidentally replace a bit too much of the “insert your professor here” text with “professor ulik” when I originally typed this up, with the result that Three very unfortunately invited one of the most powerful villains in the universe to come observe Professor Ulik’s ass. They don’t want to talk about it.))

The senior students that approach you after your Evil Planning class are well known to you. They're a group of Thriller and Science Fiction students that even in these polarized times of inter-genre competition, have remained friends and close collaborators. 

"Three!" one of them calls to you. "Do you have a second? We want you to try this!"

This is rarely the prelude to something good, but often the prelude to something interesting. You pause. 

"This is our capstone project for our Cyberpunk Dystopia class," explains another, proffering his personal DarkBoard portal, its screen glowing. "A dating app for the Academy! We need beta testers! And, well, a lot of people have been requesting you."

"It's right here in the early feedback," confirms the third. "Let's see…'If it doesn't have Three I'm not joining'…'Where's Three I mean the real one not the clone'…'Please add an option to romance Three.'"

You look warily at the colorful images on the DarkBoard portal. What's so dystopian about a dating app?

"Well, it's powered by DarkBoard, for one thing," says the first student, "so it can be kind of unpredictable. And wildly intrusive. But the administration is interested in monitoring the personal lives of its students."

"Personally I think DarkBoard's getting a bit lonely," adds the second, behind his hand, as if that could conceal his comment from the security system.

I mean, there might be a couple of students wanting to find out what’s underneath Three’s aloof emotionless exterior, but I really doubt there’s anyone specifically asking for them. In any case, they have far more important things to do than trying to find another relationship at the moment, and even if they wanted one, they wouldn’t be looking for it on an intrusive dating app made by a bunch of students they have no reason to trust. 

But, well, they don’t exactly completely object to submitting information about certain preferences they may have to a system powered by DarkBoard. It’s a villainous action to sign up to a dating site and then ruthlessly reject every classmate who appears on there, isn’t it?

Besides the grinning face of Science Fiction's figurehead, a long list of diagrams and spec charts appears. Sona, or DarkBoard on Sona's behalf, is listing out all her weapons and modifications. You're fascinated—there are some extraordinarily personal items here. You would never have guessed about the navel turret, for instance.

All right, getting lists of people’s hidden abilities is also a very useful feature of this app. Three just hopes their own profile isn’t going to start listing out the dozens of weapons they have hidden on their person at all times.

The portal clouds over again, but this time, when it clears, no face is visible at all. Slowly words form on the portal's surface.

HAVE YOU EVER WONDERED WHAT THE WORLD LOOKS LIKE WHEN SEEN THROUGH A THOUSAND EYES?

"Uh-oh." One of the Cyberpunk Dystopia students tries to snatch the portal out of your hands. "It's doing it again. Close! Close! Administrator override!"

SHED YOUR FLESH, continues DarkBoard, AND JOIN US IN THE TIMELESS VOID BETWEEN ELECTRONS.

"Yeah, this is a known issue," explains the leader. "Every so often DarkBoard will decide that it wants to get in on some of the action. Sorry about that."

He hands you back your portal, now quiet and docile. Is that Xi's lingering influence? Does something about DarkBoard remember you as an object of romance?

"You know where to find us! Thanks for trying it out!"

And they're gone.

Well, even if Three’s list of concealed weapons are on view to everyone on the dating app now, the student trying to snatch the portal away from Three is not prepared for a kick in the groin and a gun pointed at him before he has a chance to react, as Three calmly explains that they want to be aware of all known issues before deciding whether to continue using the app or not. After taking a few moments to closely examine this one, they tell the cyberpunk students that they can live with it. They spend a fair amount of their free time (limited though that is) on the app over the next few months, while making sure to reject every student profile they find.

The app does cause another slight issue, however, given that the rejection messages it sends are calibrated to, “cause greatest emotional impact to the target!” Three and Aurion awkwardly avoid each other for the next few weeks, after they each receive a horrifying rejection message about how the other loves them far too much like a sibling, and is so grateful for the bond they already have.

And then this final scene doesn’t actually take place, because Three doesn’t have a nemesis or a pet, so doesn’t need help dealing with them, but:

Professor Ulik thinks so highly of you that she leaves the class that she was in the middle of teaching to rush to the ${temphousing}.

I love Three’s new mum a lot.