#the impact he had on his students IMMEASURABLE

[nanamikentoseyebags]

gojo satoru you were, you are and you always be so so loved

[ownedbythescribe]

Kaedehara Kazuha | Longer Way Ahead

ıllı Synopsis: Amidst the troubles of life, Kazuha was allured by the gleam in your eyes. He longed to know your name and take his chance. Will you let him?

ıllı Genre: Fluff, Romance, Modern AU

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı Inspiration: Da Capo - Honkai Impact 3rd

ıllı A/N: I really liked this one! It’s challenging not to make the characters OOC, but I tried! I hope you guys enjoy!

“Hey, Kazuha, are you all right?” Heizou asked, tapping his friend on the shoulder, who seemed high-strung on the number plastered on his exam paper. He could see the distress in his eyes and wished to know if he would like to talk about it.

“Y-Yeah, but I don’t think my guardian will be happy with the score I got. I might get an earful later when I come home.” Kazuha joked, but his friend could hear the uneasiness in his voice. Recalling the plans of the boys after school, Heizou urged his disheartened friend to join them in the arcade to de-stress. The platinum-blond male shook his head no as he wanted to be alone in his thoughts later. There were things he needed to evaluate regarding his performance.

“All right. Give me a call if you ever change your mind.” He patted his shoulder again before drifting to Venti and Aether.

College was the last thing Kazuha had in mind after his family perished in a fire incident. According to the police, it was deliberate, considering the chemicals found near their backyard where the flames started. It took months before the criminal was apprehended. Afterward, he was taken in by Beidou. He thought he would graduate high school and get a job at the cat cafe, but she insisted on getting a college degree. Here he was now, studying philosophy, and his disappointment was immeasurable.

Kazuha let out a dispirited sigh as he glanced at the paper in his hand. It was not uncommon to undertake mathematics during the first year. But to perform poorly because he disliked the subject, thus refusing to exert effort? It upset him. His father did not raise him to be lackadaisical. He knew he should have at least tried to understand it because how much more once he entered his second and third years? Critical thinking would be his valuable tool, and mathematics provided that challenge.

“Not to mention, the preliminary exams are coming. This feels so overwhelming.” He murmured, sitting on one of the stone benches in the university's garden. It was already 4 in the afternoon, yet only a few students were in sight. He was grateful for the opportunity to be alone and wallow in self-pity. Or so he thought he was alone because not far from him, he heard someone singing.

“There used to be a story teller, who always painted the sunshine and the rain.”

It was a bit off-tune, but the soft voice made up for it. Kazuha glanced around to spot where it came from until it landed on your figure.

“One has to eventually grow up. Spending a lifetime to taste love and pain”

As if in a trance, Kazuha watched you sketch the scenery ahead. Your eyes gleamed in adoration as your hands hovered above the sketchbook. He felt like he was watching a magician splash colors on a dry canvas. It was—No, you were breathtaking.

“Never can we suspend the time. Having to leave the tracks behind. There is a longer way ahead, after all.” You continued, applying colors that you thought would suit the leaves. You hummed the rest of the song until the last part. It was your favorite line.

“May you, the beauty of this world, always shine.” A smile unconsciously made its way to Kazuha’s lips. He intently listened to you hum, the feelings of disappointment and self-pity vanishing like smoke in the wind.

The lyrics of the song encouraged him to see beyond. To understand that he might have failed, but it did not mean the end of the world. It was a realization of the failure he did not see, a lesson he needed to be taught. With a new determination, he texted Xiao and asked if he could tutor him the next day regarding the exam they recently took.

In the next succeeding days, the platinum-blond male took mathematics seriously. He would question Xiao and Heizou, occasionally Scaramouche if he was in the area, about the items he was unsure of. He got the hang of advanced analytical geometry and basic logic, always practicing when he had the time. Kazuha never forgot about you. In fact, he would return to the gardens from time to time, hoping to hear you again. Those times were rare, knowing that you were on a different course. He thought of asking his friends if they knew you.

“A person singing in the campus garden? Is that a ghost story, Kazuha?” Aether shuddered, unable to seize the chill creeping down his spine at the thought of a ghost in the university.

“No, they’re a real person. I would see them sketch around buildings, trees, and even people. They also love to sing. Hmm… they have (E/C) eyes and (H/C) hair.” He described. Heizou thought for a moment until he remembered an art student who was a friend of Venti. He immediately glanced at the drunkard.

“It’s (Y/N). How could you not recognize those traits, Venti? You basically hang out with them every week with Nilou and Thoma.” He chided. Venti rose from his seat and pouted. He said that other people also had those features, but the up-and-coming detective told him that you were the only one who loved to sing out in the open, even if it was off-key at times.

‘They love dissing them, huh?’ Kazuha thought. He loved your voice, really. Not to mention, the way you sang made him melt. Now that he discovered your name, he wished he could talk to you, maybe ask you out for a coffee date. His interest in you was growing each day.

Heizou noticed the smile blooming on his friend’s face. He smirked and nudged Venti, who also noticed the sentiment. It looked like your wish to have a boyfriend was coming down like a shooting star. Venti took out his phone and chatted, asking if you were free this afternoon. You said yes. Venti was about to ruin the surprise when Heizou pinched his side and grabbed the drunkard’s phone.

“Ouch! What the heck?” Venti gasped. Heizou ignored him and typed that he would like to meet up later for coffee.

“Hmm? Coffee with Venti? That’s a bit strange. He always, I mean always, asks people out for alcohol and not this. Does he want something?” You thought, frowning at the possibilities your friend might ask of you. A soft sigh left your lips before replying that you would see him later.

Heizou grinned before replying, “Great! See you!”. He returned the phone to the drunkard, then turned to the crimson-eyed male.

“Kazuha, they’re free later. I say you go ask them for a coffee.” The maroon head teased. Kazuha was stunned at the opportunity, and he could feel his cheeks flush. He stammered a response that Heizou could only imagine as he would try.

After class, Kazuha felt quite nervous. He had a silver tongue, yes, but it did not mean he could not feel emotions such as anxiety from time to time. He reached the rendezvous point and saw you sitting on the bench. The sketchbook laid open on your lap as you hummed the same song he heard when he first saw you. With a little bit of courage, he asked.

“(Y/N)… right?” You glanced up and saw a handsome guy rubbing his neck in embarrassment. The first thing you noticed was the red streak in his platinum blond hair that strangely suited him. The alluring crimson eyes also seemed to look past your soul. Noting that you were staring, you shuffled in your seat and replied.

“Yes, but may I know who’s asking?” You politely regarded. The male took a look at your masterpiece and relaxed. He told you that Venti was his classmate and asked him to tell you he could not come because Heizou dragged him away to help with their project. He added that they withheld it for too long because of the drunkard’s antics.

‘He could have texted me earlier. Geez.’ You frowned. It would have saved you time to nap instead of waiting. With a sigh, you thanked the male and took your things.

Kazuha was alarmed that you were already leaving, so he used what little courage he had to ask if you wanted to grab some coffee. You asked him why, suspicious of the act. He stiffened before noting how you looked dejected that your friend could not come.

“Venti mentioned that you like the cafe by the library. So… if you don’t mind, that is.” He could not look you in the eyes, but your mind was already doing wonders. Piecing the obvious, you shook your head in mirth. Venti set you up, and he had another accomplice by the looks of it. Otherwise, he would have already blown it.

“Hmm. I don’t know, but you’re right. I do like the cafe by the library, and I suppose Venti also told you that I favor the mild sweets they serve there?” You teased. Kazuha sheepishly laughed. Busted.

Well, he was a cute guy. This might also be the chance you have been waiting for all your life. Venti was not an idiot to set you up with the wrong person.

“You must already know me, but I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you.” You placed your hand in front for a handshake. He took it and also said his name.

“I’m Kazuha. Shall we go then?” He urged. You grinned and took his hand in yours.

“Sure! I hope they still have their special drink. You should try it!” Kazuha was beyond elated. There really was a longer way ahead, a future looking to.

BONUS:

“You know, you could have just talked to me. I always see you nearby when I draw. I hope you don’t mind that I often sing off-tune. It’s just my way to de-stress at times.” You bashfully said. Kazuha flushed once more before chuckling.

“I didn’t know, but I’m happy you gave me this chance. Don’t worry about your singing. I love it.” He confessed. It was now your turn to blush. He was too adorable and honest!

“Okay….” You murmured. He squeezed your intertwined fingers, smiling contently.

Please don’t copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Ray Campbell Species: Human / Ghost Occupation: Student at UMWR Age: 23 Years Old Played By: Rhi Face Claim: Drake Rodger

"I feel like I'm a haunted house, wishing for Halloween to be over."

TW: Memory loss (due to possession)

Ray Campbell’s past is both known and yet suspiciously unknown to him. He had definitely been present for his childhood, sure, but his memories of the past are spotty at best. Ray has chalked that up to being forgetful, simply a fault of his mind that he chooses not to dwell on. The truth is much more sinister. He had been possessed by his first ghost early on in life when he was just a baby. His parents didn’t fully understand what had happened to their infant son, and like most first time parents they put all their time into trying to figure it out. And failing that… their last resort was quite drastic.

A terribly executed exorcism can be very damaging, but the impacts of such a night on Ray at only a year old has left immeasurable scars in his consciousness and irreparable damage. Ever since that exorcism his family have pulled away from him. They have mourned the loss of who their son could have been, not truly believing that the son they still had after that night was theirs at all. He may have still lived with them -had been brought up with food, shelter and clothing on his back- but his parents did not engage him nor particularly show him any warmth. His family were withdrawn and increasingly focused more on their oldest child -- a daughter whom they believed was their only true child.

They watched through the years from a distance as the personality of their son shifted and altered from day to day. His body was clearly not fully his own. Although they did not speak again of their decision to attempt to exorcize the ‘demons’ in their son. Ray was not to know of what had happened to him, they did not want to acknowledge what they’d done that night. Turning a blind eye was simply easier than facing reality.

Ray continued his life not knowing any different, pieces of his childhood constantly missing and his actions constantly questioned. His body has been host to a plethora of ghosts. Many having moved on swiftly with little impact however others used him as a puppet to achieve their unfinished business. The gaps in his memory were a mystery to him, and the odd situations he often found himself in became the norm of some sort of supposed ‘’sleepwalking’.

He finds himself in Wicked's Rest now, having saved up through many odd jobs and a little money addressed to him from a ‘distant relative’. It had taken him a year or so extra out of high school to afford his course but he’s studying to be a meteorologist now. Ray is starting to suspect something is odd about this particular portion of his life however, if only through the actions of those around him. Odd reactions to him were a norm but he’s never had so many friends…especially ‘friends’ that he doesn’t remember meeting.

Character Facts:

Personality: Forgetful, insecure, odd, adaptable, compassionate, fair, intelligent

Ray has a misguided life goal of becoming a weatherman on television simply because he once overheard his mother saying how much she loved their local station's weather presenter.

Ray has always simply walked his own path, with little guidance from his parents he’s taken a lot of his life lessons from teachers and/or television. Although outwardly he’s a quiet individual, he’s never shied away from breaking rules and laws if it suits him.

With a little bit of a bad record in his home state (not always his own fault), he saved up and moved to Maine to have a more fresh start.

Now he has started at UMWR he’s amassed favor with the Hockey Team who have affectionately nicknamed him ‘Soup’ - despite not remembering joining the team or speaking to any of the players- seems his latest ghost has been up to a lot lately… he could get used to this.

[ozzyscollectiblehub]

Dr. James Beckett: The Iconic Figure Behind the Modern Sports Card Industry

For anyone passionate about sports cards, Dr. James Beckett is a name that resonates deeply. As the mastermind behind the price guides that revolutionized the hobby, Dr. Beckett’s contributions have shaped the sports card industry into what it is today. But who is the man behind the iconic Beckett brand, and how did he come to influence an entire industry? Let’s dive into the story of Dr. James Beckett, the man who transformed sports card collecting from a niche hobby into a thriving market.

The Early Days: From Hobbyist to Academic

Dr. James Beckett’s journey into the world of sports cards began like many others — as a young collector. Growing up in the 1950s and 1960s, Beckett developed a passion for baseball cards, spending countless hours organizing and cataloging his collection. Little did he know, this childhood hobby would lay the groundwork for his future career.

After earning a Ph.D. in statistics from Southern Methodist University, Dr. Beckett embarked on a career in academia. But even as he taught students the intricacies of statistics, his love for sports cards never waned. He noticed a significant gap in the hobby: there was no reliable source of pricing information. This realization would become the catalyst for his entry into the industry.

The Birth of the Beckett Price Guide

In the late 1970s, Dr. Beckett began meticulously tracking the prices of sports cards, using his statistical expertise to analyze trends and establish fair market values. His work culminated in the publication of the first Beckett Baseball Card Monthly in 1984, a magazine that quickly became a must-have for collectors.

What set Beckett’s price guides apart was their accuracy and trustworthiness. Unlike previous attempts to track card values, Beckett’s guides were based on extensive research and real-world data. Collectors trusted the values printed in Beckett’s guides, and soon, the name “Beckett” became synonymous with the sports card market.

Expanding the Brand

The success of the baseball card price guide led to the expansion of the Beckett brand into other sports. Soon, there were price guides for basketball, football, hockey, and more. Each guide adhered to the same rigorous standards of accuracy and reliability that had made the original so successful.

As the hobby grew, so did the Beckett brand. In addition to price guides, Beckett Media began publishing magazines focused on sports cards, collectibles, and pop culture. The company also ventured into the digital realm, launching Beckett.com, a website that became a hub for collectors worldwide.

The Legacy of Dr. Beckett

In the early 2000s, Dr. Beckett sold his company, but his influence on the hobby remains undeniable. The Beckett name continues to be a trusted authority in the sports card world, and Dr. Beckett himself is often regarded as the father of the modern sports card industry.

Beyond his contributions to the hobby, Dr. Beckett is also known for his humility and approachability. Despite his success, he has always remained a passionate collector at heart, eager to share his love for the hobby with others.

Conclusion: A Lasting Impact

Dr. James Beckett’s impact on the sports card industry is immeasurable. He not only provided collectors with a reliable tool for understanding the value of their cards but also helped legitimize the hobby in the eyes of the public. Today, sports card collecting is a multi-billion-dollar industry, and much of that success can be traced back to the work of one man with a passion for both statistics and sports cards.

As the sports card industry continues to evolve, the legacy of Dr. James Beckett will undoubtedly endure, reminding us all of the power of passion and perseverance in turning a hobby into a lasting cultural phenomenon.

[barbarapaul]

Footballer's Heartfelt Reaction to Reuniting with Teacher He Believed Had Passed Away

Imagine the shock and overwhelming emotion a footballer feels when he unexpectedly reunites with a teacher he believed had passed away. This heartwarming encounter captures the essence of gratitude, appreciation, and the powerful impact educators have on their students' lives. Let's delve into this touching story that exemplifies the deep connection that can exist between a mentor and their pupil.

Stay informed with the latest and breaking news today ! Click to explore top stories and insightful updates.

The Emotional Reunion

In a heartwarming turn of events, a renowned footballer was caught off guard when he spotted his long-lost teacher in the crowd during a championship match. The disbelief and joy on his face were unmistakable as he rushed over to embrace the person who had played a significant role in shaping his academic and personal growth. The moment was filled with tears, laughter, and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia as they reminisced about the shared memories from years past.

The Impact of a Teacher

Teachers hold a special place in our hearts, influencing not only our academic achievements but also our character development and life choices. This emotional reunion serves as a poignant reminder of the powerful bond that can exist between a teacher and student, transcending time and distance. The footballer's heartfelt reaction speaks volumes about the lasting impact his teacher had on him, instilling values of perseverance, resilience, and compassion that have guided him throughout his career.

A Teacher's Legacy

The reunion between the footballer and his teacher showcases the enduring legacy that educators leave behind. Their dedication, guidance, and unwavering support can shape the trajectory of a student's life, inspiring them to dream big and achieve greatness. This heartwarming story serves as a testament to the profound influence teachers have on their students, instilling in them the belief that anything is possible with hard work and determination.

The Power of Gratitude

As the footballer and his teacher shared a heartfelt embrace, surrounded by cheering fans and fellow teammates, the power of gratitude and appreciation shone brightly. The emotional reunion served as a poignant reminder to never take those who have shaped our lives for granted, but rather to express our gratitude openly and sincerely. In a world filled with challenges and uncertainties, moments of genuine connection and appreciation hold immeasurable value.

In conclusion, the footballer's heartfelt reaction to reuniting with his teacher he believed had passed away is a powerful reminder of the deep bond that can exist between a mentor and their pupil. This heartwarming encounter underscores the lasting impact teachers have on their students' lives, shaping their character, values, and aspirations. Let us celebrate and honor the educators who devote their lives to nurturing and inspiring the next generation, leaving a legacy of love, knowledge, and hope in their wake.

[abhigyan-rai]

CAN CLINK BE INDIA'S OWN SOCIAL NETWORK? OR IS IT JUST LIMITED TO COLLEGE.

In today’s world where data privacy and security are of the essence, CLINK is one of a kind in that it ensures the protection of user information. Through its strict verification system, use of unique cell phone numbers for account creation among other security measures; CLINK can ensure that personal data is safe. This dedication to privacy builds trust and encourages users to participate more freely by ensuring their safety from abuse or breaches.

About the founder.

The traditional method of studying, goes on as we complete school and move towards college, and then go onto our job area. A lot of us follow this method and feel the fulfillment of life as we buy our favourite things from our first salary. But as the saying goes like “You will enrich your life immeasurably if you approach it with a sense of wonder and discovery, and always challenge yourself to try new things.”

Something similiar happened with Vikash Sharma In his university years, as A computer science major, he had this unsettling thing going on. He wanted to break the pattern, try something different, and not settle for the traditional method of education.

And soo He went on, dropped out of college, and exclusively dedicated 7 years of his time in making Clink, an educational platform especially made for students, that helps them with networking, reserch and levelling up academics. Vikash Sharma had gotten into the depth of technology, and considered making such a program, that would make an Impact. He dreamed, and made it happen. Today clink is presented in the world, just because Making it real was a priority of Vikash Sharma

How Data Privacy and Security fits in

In today’s world where data privacy and security are of the essence, CLINK is one of a kind in that it ensures the protection of user information. Through its strict verification system, use of unique cell phones numbers for accounts creation among other robust security measures; CLINK can ensure that personal data is safe. This dedication to privacy builds trust and encourages users to participate more freely by ensuring their safety from abuse or breaches.

Educational Communities With The Difference

CLINK is not like the regular social networks but has been specifically designed for educational communities. Such specialization allows for features and functionalities that are directly aimed at serving students, teachers, and administrators. CLINK offers an alternative solution on this aspect which cannot be matched by mainstream social media such as facilitating online classes or managing attendance or even creating student groups for different activities.

Events & Activities

In addition, the site supports organizing and promoting events as well. Seminars, workshops, cultural activities and other functions can be announced by colleges through CLINK. Students have a chance to respond, discuss and even get involved in planning for these events. Through this feature, all members of college community are empowered with information and active participation in campus life becomes possible.

Career Opportunities

Apart from educational interactions, CLINK also offers students with some features that help them prepare for their careers. The platform hosts job boards, internship listings and career counseling sessions among others. Here they can meet alumni or industry professionals who will give them more understanding about different career paths; such as those opportunities which relate to what they are interested in doing after school.

Why the World Needs CLINK

Addressing Unique Educational Needs

CLINK is an educational social network that caters for unique needs not met by other mainstream social media platforms. It provides a space where learning can take place without interfering with people’s interactions on social media platforms. This is its niche focus hence it remains relevant and useful to the main users of this platform.

CLINK is not just a college social network. It has many parts, focuses on learning groups, and can do more things. It is special and good. It helps groups grow, makes studying better, and supports good online talk. It is different from other social networks. It is special. It can become India's own social network, for all people in education. In a world where working together is important, CLINK is safe and good for all in education.

[smart-paper123]

Feature: Michael Evans, University of Toronto

In the dynamic field of data science education, Michael Evans, a prominent figure at the University of Toronto, stands as a trailblazer in shaping the future of data-driven learning and research.

As a distinguished professor, accomplished researcher, and dedicated mentor, he has made significant contributions to the academic community and played a vital role in preparing students for the challenges of the data-centric world.

In this feature, we will explore the remarkable journey of Michael Evans and the indelible impact he has had on data science education at one of Canada's most prestigious institutions.

I. An Academic Visionary

Michael Evans is a tenured professor at the University of Toronto's Department of Statistical Sciences. His vision to revolutionise data science education has been at the forefront of his academic pursuits, influencing countless students and fellow faculty members.

II. Accomplishments and Contributions

Pioneering Research: Michael Evans' research spans a wide range of topics, from Bayesian statistics to computational methods, earning him international recognition in the statistical community.

Notable Publications: He has authored several influential research papers and co-authored widely used statistical textbooks, shaping the learning experiences of aspiring data scientists globally.

III. A Mentor and Guide

Mentorship Initiatives: Beyond his academic excellence, Michael Evans is known for his dedication to mentoring and guiding students through their educational journey.

Encouraging Research: Under his mentorship, numerous students have engaged in groundbreaking research projects, contributing to advancements in data science.

IV. Leading Data Science Programs

Shaping the Curriculum: As a key faculty member, Michael Evans has played a pivotal role in designing data science programs that align with industry needs and the latest technological advancements.

Emphasising Practical Application: His teaching approach emphasises hands-on projects, enabling students to apply theoretical concepts to real-world scenarios.

V. Influence on Data Science Community

Invited Speaker: Michael Evans has been invited to speak at prestigious data science conferences and events, sharing his insights and expertise with the global academic community.

Collaborations and Partnerships: He has fostered collaborations with industry leaders and research institutions, further enhancing the relevance of data science education at the University of Toronto.

CONCLUSION

Michael Evans' impact on data science education at the University of Toronto is immeasurable. Through his visionary leadership, groundbreaking research, and unwavering dedication to mentoring, he has inspired a generation of data scientists to push boundaries and embrace the power of data.

As the field of data science continues to evolve, Michael Evans remains a driving force in shaping the next generation of data-driven innovators, propelling the University of Toronto to the forefront of data science education on a global scale.

[oneofthosesimps]

Martyr

pairing: levi x reader I nsfw

word count: 5729

summary: after a long day and lots of tension, levi takes care of you and fucks you into your dilirium

warnings: choking (i mean like you get no air at all), rough sex, dirtytalk, swearing, sub x dom

authors note: ok, i'm absolutely not satisfied with the fanfic, but i've been sitting on it for way too long and i have to get it out now, because i can't work on anything else. the next one will be better, i promise.

all credits to the artist of this pic

i hope that's right

-----

"They're miserable" Oluo says to you and wrinkles his nose. You look at Marco Bott in front of you, hanging in the ropes of the ODM gear and trying with all his might to keep his balance.

A gust of air swirls individual leaves around you, causing a few strands of your hair to fall into your face. The ropes of the ODM gear blow back and forth slightly and this small movement completely throws Bott off balance. You can see the effort and sweat beading on his face, he clenches his teeth tightly before panic overcomes him. His body can't find balance and he starts to row his arms, but it's too late. He topples over backwards and with a dull thud his head hits the stone floor. "Pathetic," you mutter, grabbing your forehead with your hand. Actually, such an impact shouldn't even happen, but judging by the appearance, since Bott slipped out of the leather straps, he hadn't fastened them properly. "The students are a disaster," Oluo says in your direction, and you nod slightly at him.

"Okay, Bott, out of the harnesses! Arlert, you're up next!" he shouts to the other group members, then runs to Marco to help him out of his predicament.

Your eyes roam over the other groups and their contraptions. Oluo was right with his statement. It's been a long time since you've seen such a pile of work. There are individual exceptions like Mikasa Ackerman or Annie Leonhardt, but as mentioned before, these are only exceptions. The rest are doing just as poorly as Bott. A long sigh escapes you.

"They are a bunch of shit.” Your hackles stand up and a cold shiver runs down your spine. The goosebumps start at your shoulders and then spread down your arms. Your heart seems to skip a beat.

"Yes, they are, Captain." Oluo stands next to you again and your captain joins in as well. Out of the corner of your eye, you look to your left at Levi, who looks straight ahead with his arms folded in front of his chest.

"Oi, Arlert, you're a disgrace to our troop. Get a grip."

"Yes, sir," Armin shouts back, but you can see the uncertainty Levi's words bring and his whole-body tenses. He also loses his balance, his body swings backwards and he hangs upside down in the ropes, like Marco Bott before - at least he doesn't hit his head.

"What did I tell you!!! Tighten the center!" roars Oluo, stomping his feet as he makes his way to Arlert.

A breeze comes up again, stronger this time, and the cadets have great difficulty keeping their balance. In fact, everyone sails back, except, to your surprise, Connie Springer, who is cheered on by the rest of his group. You pull your jacket tighter around you, hoping it would catch some of the spring wind, but you shiver anyway.

"Your jaw is tight," Levi's deep voice says beside you, and you turn your gaze to him in surprise. His grey eyes look down at you from above and you swallow hard. He's such a handsome man. His shoulders show well through his uniform and his shirt tightens a bit at his chest due to his muscles. His eyes sparkle slightly from the sun shining on his face. The wind has spread some hair on his forehead and your fingertips start to tickle. How you would like to brush them away. You clench your hands into fists to stop yourself.

"Didn't even realize it," you reply, turning your gaze back to Oluo and Arlert to stay calm. Your heart drums a little in your chest. Your comrade is trying his best to help him and give him instructions and assistance.

"To be honest, your whole body is tense". You feel Levi's calm gaze still resting on you and you put your head back and stare at the sky. A few clouds drift across the sky, white and fluffy.

"It's been a busy day, too." Your eyes shift back to him and you both look into each other's eyes. His grey eyes seem almost a bright silver. He studies you more closely and the corners of his mouth lift up ever so slightly. "Understandable, with this bunch of idiots." You roll your eyes and have to grin slightly before sighing again. It was admittedly leaching to complete the first training sessions with new cadets. They are all so full of anticipation before harsh reality catches up with them and about a third of all are sent back home - if they still have a home after Wall Maria was breached and Shiganshina District had to be left.

Of course, it was little different for you back then, but you performed solidly right from the start and made it to the top 3 of all graduates after hard training. That was also the reason why Levi included you in his squad.

Nonetheless, you just got annoyed and wanted a break from all the frustration and instruction you had to give. Being a teacher is not the reason you joined the Survey Corps.

Levi is just opening his mouth to say something when Petra's loud voice echoes across the square.

"Captain, I need your help." Over Levi's shoulder, you can see her, hands flailing in the air. Levi clicks his tongue and his expression changes, becomes slightly annoyed. You do the same. He leans over to you, his head right next to yours. His strong scent of black tea and citrus rises to your nose and your knees go weak. His hot breath hits the shell of your ear and goosebumps cover your body again. "I'll make you feel better later." Your heart starts beating faster and a deep blush settles over your cheeks. You hold your breath as he turns and walks with strong strides back to his spot by Petra, the Wings of Freedom emblazoned large on his back.

"Tch, I haven't seen a fucking weakling like that in a long time, Yaeger," you hear him shout further back. Again, a slight grin comes over you.

"Ma'am, can you help me with the straps?" calls Christa Renz over to you. She snaps you out of your thoughts and you come back to yourself. You expel your long-held breath and make your way over to her.

The rest of the training was like chewing gum compared to before. The remaining part of your group wasn't a total bust, but Levi's words left a sweet note and butterflies in your stomach. Your whole body tingled with joy and the scenarios in your head took their own course. Every now and then your gaze swung to Levi, even as you have pulled yourself together, but the temptation was far too great. And then when he caught your gaze, you could see the change in him even across the distance. At one point you even thought he winked at you, which was the most uncharacteristic thing ever for him, but just the pure thought that you were right made your knees weak again. For this reason, you were more concerned with your students, who were not very happy about it. You had the reputation of being almost as strict as Levi - but with less insults - and that although your size made you look more like a dwarf. At the end of the training, the Levi Squad then condemned the worst to clean up the mess. The sun was lower by now, it was late afternoon and the wind was blowing stronger. You walked together as a group back to the large building and followed the cadets to the mess hall.

As usual, you took your food first before the rest could strike, which you were more than happy about. At least on days when there was meat, it was always an advantage for everything and everyone to fill their plates before Sasha Blouse. Her love for food was immeasurable. After her, there wasn't that much left for others to lead and sharing was out of the question for her. You plod along behind Eld with your full plate and settle into the seat next to him and Oluo.

"What a day, huh guys?" groans Petra, sliding onto the bench across from you, followed by Gunther and then Levi, who grabs the seat across from yours.

You stare at the potatoes, meat and bread in front of you and start eating, almost burning yourself.

The others do the same, while Levi drinks his tea and lets his gaze roam the room to observe the other cadets.

"There, you say something. I wonder when it's going to be expedition time again. Time to kill some titans again, isn't it?" grins Oluo next to you, poking you in the side. You give him a dry look. "You mean so I can do all the work again and you can rest?" Oluo blushes slightly, whether from anger or shame, and slashes at the table with his knife in his right hand.

"I was here long before you even got around to it, kid".

"That makes your 39 kills all the sadder," you mock, and the others stifle their laughter.

Oluo contorts his face and is about to open his mouth when Eld slaps him on the back, "Oh Oluo, I can still remember when you wet yourself on your first expedition."

The blow startles Oluo slightly and he yelps in pain. He slaps his hand over his mouth and contorts his face. "I bit my tongue," he mumbles, which really makes the others laugh now. You, on the other hand, just roll your eyes again and are pleased inwardly.

No matter how much you get on each other's nerves sometimes, you are a family that always stands up for each other. Most of the happy moments you can still remember were spent with this group. Each had its strengths and weaknesses, which in turn compensated for another. Your gaze falls on each of them as they still laugh and Oluo still complains before you look at Levi.

Again, your breath catches slightly. His gaze pierces you and holds you spellbound. He looks at you as he slowly eats. A shiver runs down your spine again and you press your legs together. His gaze is intense and deep, going straight to your soul. His silver eyes are darker and possessive. No one at the table seems to notice what's happening, as Levi has always been good at hiding your personal moments. It's a mystery to you how he did it since you always felt caught and like your body didn't really belong to you. He was the one thing that always upset you and left you breathless. You smile slightly at him and his gaze darkens even more, making you swallow.

"Captain, how about a little break for us tonight? We could all sit down together for a bit and have a little drink," Petra catches your attention. She blushes slightly and you have to suppress the gagging. Never, never, would Levi ever feel anything for Petra. Everyone liked her, including him and yourself, of course, but not in that way. They were much too different for that and didn't have the same goals. But you had already noticed how Petra looked at Levi and blushed and bit her lip and stroked through her hair and smiled and laughed extra and positioned herself well and always stood next to him, sat down, tried to work with him, always addressed him directly, took him in protection. You were never jealous because Levi never gave you a reason to be, but Petra made it really hard for you sometimes. Especially since no one, except Hange, of course, knew about how things were between Levi and you.

"Oi, your hand," Gunther says, touching it. You recoil and realize how your hand hurts. You clutch your knife tightly, your knuckles white. Everyone is looking at you. You let go of it and it falls to the table before you mumble a quiet apology and continue eating. Speaking of which, you were bad at hiding your feelings for Levi. The others let go of you and turn their attention back to Petra and Levi.

"Tch, do what you want, I still have workto do". Petra looks slightly disappointed and starts eating again. The rest of the meal was quieter as everyone was busy filling their bellies. Eld and Gunther are the first to leave before Levi raises his voice. "Oi, Petra, take my dishes away as soon as you finished". The girl seems hopeful for a brief moment before Levi smashes her hopes. He looks at you and your almost empty plates. "... And the other one here too".

With these words he straightens up. You look up at him. "Would you help me just now?" His eyes show a sparkle again and your gaze falls on Petra and Oluo for a brief moment before you nod. With those words, he trots off. You quickly get up, say goodbye, and walk after him. Your path past the cadets is quiet and the murmuring around you also quiets, which always happened when Levi was around. No one would dare to accidentally say something that might upset him. Levi headed for the stone stairs in the hallway, down the long hallway to the door of his office. A few torches flicker on the wall, lighting your way, even with the sun still providing more than enough light from outside. All the while, you follow him quietly until he unlocks the door and both of you step inside.

You close the door behind you with a soft click and turn around. Levi is standing in front of you with his arms folded in front of his chest. He leans slightly against his desk and examines you from top to bottom. The evening sun shines through the window behind him and strong shadows stand out on his face. "How are you?" You bite your lower lip and swallow hard. "Pretty good, I guess," you say and avert your gaze, looking down at the ground. You continue to feel his gaze and you blush slightly. Your breathing gets a little heavier and you swallow again. The tension in this room is heavy and oppressive. The energy between you is crackling and the hairs on your arms are standing up. It is amazing how different Levi could behave. Toward everyone else on the planet, he was an ass, no question about it. But to you, he treated you like you were a flower that would wilt if he didn't take proper care of it. You bite your lower lip. Levi's footsteps come toward you until he's standing right in front of you and you can look at his shoes. He puts a finger under your chin and lifts your face. His eyes are impenetrable, and he can probably read you again like one of his books.

"You know better than to bite your lip," he whispers to you. He places his left hand against the door behind you and leans against you. His eyes pull you in before you close them and feel his lips on yours. In the background, you hear him turn the key in the lock, locking you in this room. His teeth graze over your bottom lip and he captures it, sucking on it before releasing it. "I'll do that for you, won't I?" A low moan escapes you and you open your eyes again. He was even closer to you, your noses almost grazing each other, and his hot breathing and warmth befuddle you.

"Remember what I promised you earlier?" You nod and lick your lips. His gaze immediately darts to that movement before he looks into your soul again. "Repeat it."

"You promised me that you would make me feel better".

A slight smile curls his lips and he takes your face in his right hand. You nestle into it and your heart flutters.

"So, do you still want this?" What a question, you think and nod slightly, kissing the inside palm of his hand and staring at him. Please make me feel good. Again, he has to smirk slightly and presses a feather-light kiss to your forehead before stepping away from you, taking his warmth with him. He steps back to his desk and resumes his previous posture there. His face and body tension are harder and his eyes seem much darker than before.

"Take off your clothes," comes his instruction. His voice is also low and hard. You look at him a little unsettled and surprised before you start undoing the buttons of your blouse. His gaze follows your movements and he tilts his head slightly. You kick your shoes aside. The removal of your pants in particular seems to fascinate him, and you swear you saw a sparkle in his eyes as your bra and panties follow the other garments as well. So, you stand in front of him, shivering slightly from the temperature difference, causing your nipples to poke hard at him and your skin to be covered in goosebumps again. He licks his lips and takes off his jacket, placing it on his desk behind him. He undoes the straps that wrap around his torso and sets them aside as well.

"Kneel down." You do as you were told and kneel on the cold wooden floor. This causes the cold to shoot more strongly through your body and you shake yourself slightly. Levi is still watching you and slowly lets his gaze roam over you. After your next blink, he rises and steps to the other side of his desk, which faces his window. He opens the first drawer on the left and pulls out something. After closing it, he comes back to your side and slowly steps towards you. You are a little surprised at what he just did since you can't see anything in his hands. He stops in front of you and looks down. You follow his hands, which reach for the buttons of his shirt, which he then slowly opens bit by bit. His gaze stares at you again, while he moves as if in slow motion. For you, it was all much too slow and with each button your heart beat a beat faster again. If it were up to you, you would have torn it from his body so that the buttons would fly across the room. But your hands remain still in your lap as you wait for each button. Finally arriving at the last one, he undoes it as well before slipping his shirt off his torso. His shoulders and arms work as he does so, and your knees soften. You love his body, he's a god. With all the years of training and fighting experience, it goes without saying that he is trained, but his cross and arms especially make your heart weak. You don't know what that is because of, but it's just a preference of yours on him. One of the many you have to mention about it. And you love every single scar from his skin you've run along them so many times with your lips and fingers. Slowly your temperature changes. Your body becomes warm and you notice how your center becomes moist. He reaches into his right pants pocket and pulls out a long piece of rope. Your breath catches and your eyes widen. Levi still just looks at you and plays with it a bit, tightens it and let’s go again. As he does, the muscles under his skin play again, looking indescribable with the setting sun in the background. Veins come out from under his skin and you pull your eyebrows together in frustration. He shines like a saint that you love to cling to so that he can keep all the evil in the world away from you.

"Hands behind your back." Immediately you do as he said and follow him as long as you can with your gaze as he walks around you and then kneels behind you. His fingers are warm as they graze your skin and he ties the rope around your wrists to join your two hands together. After he's done, he runs his hands up your arms, touching the haunches above your collarbones for seconds before pulling his hands away again.

"Close your eyes," he whispers in your right ear. The last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut are the last rays of the sun, which bathe the room in a deep orange-red. You feel something being placed over your eyes. Levi ties the piece of cloth to the back of your head and then rises. As soon as you realize he's done, your eyes open briefly, only to see deep black. Butterflies spread through your lower stomach and you press your lips together to stifle a moan. With excitement and anticipation, you feel more wetness between your legs and squirm slightly to create some pressure, but to no avail. Now without sight, you rely more on your ears and the sounds of the environment around you. Levi moves quietly around the room, you locate him at his desk and hear him light a match. The smell of smoke fills the room. When he seems to be finished, he moves back toward you. You hear the rattle of the buckles of his belts, which then fall to the floor with a sound. He loosens one strap after another until the sounds stop. You feel his presence in front of you and squeeze your legs together again. Fabric rustles before it's quiet again. Suddenly, a hand reaches into your hair and pulls your head almost painfully to the back of your neck. Air escapes your throat and you make a surprised sound.

"Open your mouth." Levi's voice seems even deeper than usual and hard, almost cold. You open it on command and stick out your tongue. You hear him smirk and feel one of his fingers, which slowly works its way to your throat. "I raised you so well," Levi murmurs, and you suck on his finger. Shortly after, two more join him. "I'm going to use you so well. You're going to do exactly what you were made to do: choke on my cock and milk it afterwards." A long moan escapes you and you suck on his fingers, your tongue playing with them before withdrawing them again. A feather-light touch brushes over your left nipple and you sigh. "I saw the look on your face earlier. How shamelessly you fantasize about such things while your cadets are in front of you and that idiot Oluo is standing next to you. How I would have loved to take his place". Your saliva causes your nipples to harden again as the cold air swirls around them. The hand in your hair loosens. Shortly after, you feel something warm and soft against your lips. Your mouth opens again and you groan. Levi's cock slides between your teeth into the roof of your mouth and he moans out too. "Fuck, finally." You feel the wetness between your legs run down your thigh before it drips onto the floor. Levi's hand finds its way into your hair again, and he pulls his hips back before they shoot forward again and his cock buries itself in your mouth once more. He holds this speed for some time. You get warmer and warmer, especially at the thought of you kneeling there right now in front of him and him using your mouth. "You're doing so good, slut," Levi murmurs from above, thrusting harder. The sound of your mouth smacking and his increasingly heavy breathing echoes through the room. You taste a few drops of his juice and your eyes roll back into your skull. Again, a long moan escapes you and the hand in your hair grips harder. Slight pain jolts through your scalp and goosebumps form on your skin again.

"Your mouth is so warm and wet. Just not as tight as your cunt, but I can change that". His cock finds its way deeper into your throat, almost hitting the back it before withdrawing completely. For a brief moment you feel his lips on yours, his tongue exploring the path his cock had paved earlier. He tastes himself on your lips and wants much more of it. The kiss is wild and he leaves you with throbbing, swollen lips. "Tongue out." Before you can take a breath, you're sticking it out at him again. He slaps his cock on it a few times before burying himself inside you again with one smooth thrust. His entire length fills your mouth, and you gag slightly as his tip sticks way too deep in your throat. Levi doesn't let up though, keeping you that way before resuming his previous speed and hardness. You squeeze your eyes shut, but tears escape your eyelids anyway. They wet the fabric on your eyes and find their way along under it, flowing down your cheeks and dripping on your legs. The more your throat hurts, the heavier Levi's breathing becomes. His balls hit your chin and his second hand finds its way into your hair as well, holding you in place.

"You feel so good," his deep, dry voice comes out. "...The way you sit here in front of me and suck me so good. Other men dream about it. Who would believe what a slut you are?" You moan and the vibration makes him wince and he claws into your scalp. As best you can, you slide your tongue around his shaft, grasping his tip, sucking on him while his hips keep thrusting. Your mouth and neck feel painful and your jaw hurts from the constant mouthing. As your tongue touches his balls, his hips twitch and he pulls back breathlessly. His cock pulls out of you again and you gasp for air. You cough heavily and saliva runs down the corners of your mouth.

Suddenly, Levi's hands push at your hips and pull you upward. Your legs are jello, which is why he catches your weight and supports you. The soles of your feet touch the ground for only a few moments before you feel his shoulder against your stomach and your face comes to rest on his back. The air is forced from your lungs and blood rushes to your head. He grips the rope at your wrists, thus holding you tight before he moves. “Levi, I want more”, you mumble and feel the juice running between your legs. He opens the door to his bedroom and carries you to his bed, where he lays you down somewhat roughly. The room smells like him. The bed linen is freshly washed, which is normal for him. The smell of tea is also heavy in the air, as well as its own note, which is that of Levi himself. “Tch, it's clear to me that you little bitch can't get enough. But do not worry, my big cock will fill you up in a minute.”

He turns you onto your stomach and pulls your butt up and towards him. You feel his warm breath at your center and your muscles tremble. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself for being so wet?" He blows against your wet lips and you squirm slightly under him. You feel his tongue licking once along your slit. You moan loudly as you finally get some touch before his hand hits your right ass cheek and you howl in pain. Without warning, his cock drills deep into your cunt and your moans mingle in the small space, echoing out to you. Immediately, Levi picks up the pace he had earlier while fucking your mouth. You jerk beneath him, moaning into the mattress beneath you, and your fingernails each dig into the wrist of the other arm. Again, Levi's hand closes around the rope and he pulls you up to him, grasping your throat with his other hand and biting your shoulder. You moan his name loudly and press against the warmth of his chest. He licks over the bite marks and fucks you harder. Your walls close tightly around his cock and he moans loudly next to your ear. "How tight can you get?" he murmurs, and his hand around your throat squeezes tighter. His fingers are right against your main arteries. Your air gets shorter, your pulse beats faster to push the blood into your head, but because of the pressure from his fingers it doesn't work. Light panic overcomes you and mixes with your lust. "Levi...I-I," you try to say before everything around you goes black. Your whole-body collapses and you can't finish your sentence. He immediately releases the pressure of his hand before you finally lose consciousness and the blood rushes back to your head. The difference in pressure makes you dizzy as you slowly regain consciousness. His thrusts don't stop, his endurance was immeasurable. He moans into your neck and your whole belly tingles with satisfaction. Your moans get louder again.

"Again?"

"Yes," you groan out. You hear him laugh softly before the pressure around your throat intensifies again and the scenario from just now repeats itself. The mixture of dizziness and pleasure is a deadly mix. Nothing feels better and you want more, more and more, but Levi knows exactly when to stop before he puts your little body through too much. As you come to yourself again, Levi loosens his hand around the rope and wraps his arm around your stomach. He presses you tighter against him, holding your weak body tight. "You're the biggest slut," he murmurs against your ear. The hand on your belly slowly strokes to your pelvic bones, slowly finding its way between your legs. He circles your clit with his middle finger, making you twitch and squirm against his chest as you praise his name. His lips settle on your neck, beginning to suck as his hand pushes deeper. He feels his own cock thrusting into you and adds his index and middle fingers, burying them in your creamy hole as well, which they grip tightly, and your moans grow louder again. No one must ever know what Levi does with you during all those hours in his bedroom. No one would probably believe it. How many marks he has left on your body, how many times he has cut off your air, how many times he has fucked you into unconsciousness, left your cunt sore. If Levi would be a religion, you would be its first martyr.

You lay your head in your neck and his hand around your throat rests on your forehead, pressing your head back. This makes it easier for him to get to your throat with his mouth. He licks away the sweat next to the mark before making more. "I'm so sick of no one knowing what I do to you," he hums against your neck. "I'm so fed up with the fact that some complete idiots actually still think they have a chance with you, can fuck you the way I'm doing right now". At these words he fucks you incessantly, his two fingers in addition inside you, which stretch you further and you are in heaven. Your delirium is near. He feels his way forward, curves his fingers, massages the inside of your walls. He just can't get to your g-spot due to the extra space his dick takes up and you will think you are going insane. "Even though yes I love how jealous you get of Petra. Tch, as if I would touch that filthy bitch." His thrusts get even harder and your whole-body tenses, groaning in pain. "No one can give me what you give me," he whispers. No one could give him the power he had over you. He could do whatever he wanted with you and you would get wet with lust and horniness. You were a dream come true, not just in that way. Levi loves you more than anything else in the world, even if he never says it, but deep inside you know it.

The thumb of his hand moves between your legs again to your clitoris and presses against it. A second, two seconds pass before you explode. Your vision goes white despite your blindfold, your body writhes, the muscles in your thighs twitch wildly, and you scream the room together. His name falls from your lips again as he fucks you through your orgasm. Each thrust brings sparks, his lips on your neck and his hands on and inside you. As your body slowly calms, he releases you, removes his hands, and pushes you back into the mattress. Your face shifts over the fabric before he has you back in the right position. His right leg settles next to your hip and you hear the bed creak beneath you. He continues to increase his speed, getting harder. His head settles into your neck and he moans loudly as he fucks you, finally meeting his end. Tears run down your cheeks as your body is drained, screaming at you to take a break. But the sensation between your legs pulls through your body again, making you moan once more. His hands dig painfully into your ass before Levi explodes inside you. His juice squirts into you and your name falls from his lips, giving you butterflies again. He thrusts with light strokes before gradually slowing down and dropping against your body.

He gives himself a brief moment before rising from you and untying your hands. without any remaining body tension, you fall onto the mattress beneath you and tear the blindfold from your head. The room is dark. The sun has set in time and your sense of time is confused. The light from the candle in the office brings a little light into the room, so that you can make out the outlines of the furniture.

"Better?" You hum to him and snuggle into the blanket beneath you. "Oi, I'll run us a bath, don't fall asleep." You grumble again and look after him as he leaves you alone and drained in the dark room.

[brian-in-finance]

American Cinema Editors (ACE)

The 72nd ACE Eddie Award nominations, which celebrate editing across film and television, announced their nominees this morning and, as was with PGA an hour earlier, not without some big surprises.

In feature film there are two categories, drama and comedy (the musical distinction was eliminated from comedy) and in drama we have Belfast, Dune, King Richard, No Time to Die and The Power of the Dog. West Side Story, which was submitted here, is the big miss. For comedy the nominees are: Cruella, Don’t Look Up, The French Dispatch, Licorice Pizza and tick, tick…BOOM! The choice to submit that film over in comedy proved to be a shrewd one as Netflix earned three feature film nominations as a result.

For television, several shows earned double nominations, including Succession, Ted Lasso, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Mare of Easttown and The White Lotus. Kevin Can F**k Himself earned all three slots for the multi-camera comedy series category. Big snubs here include The Underground Railroad in limited series.

The ACE Golden Eddie Award will go to the Sundance Institute.

The ACE Golden Eddie Award traditionally recognizes a filmmaker who exemplifies distinguished achievement in the art and business of film but ACE broke tradition for the first time in its history this year by recognizing a film organization. “This year the ACE Board voted to honor an entity rather than an individual,” stated ACE president Kevin Tent. “Since 1981, the Sundance Institute has launched some of the most talented and vital voices in global film. Having just celebrated their 40-year anniversary, the Sundance Institute’s impact on our art and industry is immeasurable. ACE is proud to recognize their extraordinary contributions to cinema.”

Founding Senior Director, Artist Programs Michelle Satter, will accept the honor on behalf of the Sundance Institute.

Past recipients of the Golden Eddie include Quentin Tarantino, Kathleen Kennedy, Christopher Nolan, Lauren Shuler Donner, Guillermo del Toro, Spike Lee, Vince Gilligan, J.J. Abrams, Nancy Meyers, Martin Scorsese, Norman Jewison, Robert Zemeckis and George Lucas, among many other accomplished filmmakers.

Veteran film editors Lillian E. Benson, ACE and Richard Chew, ACE will receive Career Achievement Awards for their outstanding contributions to film editing. Benson was the first woman of color invited to join American Cinema Editors just over thirty years ago and has served on its Board of Directors for over two decades.

Chew’s body of work is punctuated with some of the most iconic films in history including Milos Forman’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, (for which he shared the BAFTA Award), Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation, (for which he shared another BAFTA Award) and Star Wars (for which he won the Oscar for Best Film Editing with his co-editors Marcia Lucas and Paul Hirsch, ACE).

“Lillian and Richard are rock star editors and represent the very best of our craft and profession,” stated ACE president Kevin Tent, ACE. “Just look at those credits! Not only have they had incredibly prolific careers, but they’ve given back to our community in many ways, not the least of which by mentoring the next generation of editors. We are thrilled to honor these two special editors and look back at their amazing careers.”

Past recipients of the ACE Career Achievement Award include Alan Heim, ACE, Thelma Schoonmaker, ACE, Dede Allen, ACE, Janet Ashikaga, ACE, Craig Mckay, ACE, Margaret Booth, ACE, Carol Littleton, ACE, John Soh, ACE, Mark Goldblatt, ACE and Leon Ortiz-Gil, ACE, among many others.

The Anne V. Coates Award for Student editing will be announced later.

The 72nd Annual ACE Eddie Awards will be an a 50% capacity in-person event held on Saturday, March 5, 2022 at the Theater at the ACE Hotel, with an after-party to be held at the historic Clifton’s Republic.

Here is the complete list of nominees.

FEATURE FILM (DRAMA)

Belfast , Úna Ní Dhonghaíle, ACE, BFE

Dune, Joe Walker, ACE

King Richard , Pamela Martin, ACE

No Time to Die, Tom Cross, ACE, Elliot Graham, ACE

The Power of the Dog, Peter Sciberras

FEATURE FILM (COMEDY)

Cruella, Tatiana S. Riegel ACE

Don’t Look Up, Hank Corwin, ACE

The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun, Andrew Weisblum, ACE

Licorice Pizza, Andy Jurgensen

tick, tick…BOOM!, Myron Kerstein, ACE, Andrew Weisblum, ACE

ANIMATED FEATURE FILM

Encanto, Jeremy Milton, ACE

Luca, Catherine Apple, ACE, Jason Hudak

The Mitchells vs. the Machines, Greg Levitan

Raya and the Last Dragon, Fabienne Rawley, ACE, Shannon Stein

Sing 2, Gregory Perler, ACE

BEST EDITED DOCUMENTARY (FEATURE)

Flee, Janus Billeskov Jansen

The Rescue, Bob Eisenhardt, ACE

Summer of Soul……Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised, Joshua L. Pearson

Val, Ting Poo, Leo Scott

The Velvet Underground, Affonso Gonçalves, ACE, Adam Kurnitz

BEST EDITED DOCUMENTARY (NON-THEATRICAL)

100 Foot Wave “Sea Monsters”, Abhay Sofsky, Adrienne Gits, Connor Culhane, Brandon Valentin

1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything “Starman”, Sam Blair

Allen V. Farrow “Episode 1”, Mikaela Shwer, Parker Laramie & Sara Newens

The Beatles: Get Back “Episode 3”, Jabez Olssen

Billie Eilish: The World’s a Little Blurry, Greg Finton, ACE, Lindsay Utz, ACE

BEST EDITED MULTI-CAMERA COMEDY SERIES

Kevin Can F**k Himself “Fixed”, Kenneth LaMere ACE

Kevin Can F**k Himself “The Grand Victorian”, Ivan Victor, ACE

Kevin Can F**k Himself “Live Free or Die”, Daniel Schalk, ACE

BEST EDITED SINGLE-CAMERA COMEDY SERIES

Curb Your Enthusiasm “Igor, Gregor, & Timor”, Steven Rasch ACE, Thomas Foligno

Curb Your Enthusiasm “The Mormon Advantage”, Chris Chandler, Roger Nygard, ACE

Hacks “1.69 Million”, Susan Vaill, ACE

Ted Lasso “No Weddings and a Funeral”, A.J. Catoline, ACE

Ted Lasso “Rainbow”, Melissa McCoy, ACE

BEST EDITED DRAMA SERIES

Euphoria “F— Anyone Who’s Not a Sea Blob”, Julio C. Pérez IV, ACE, Nikola Boyanov

Lupin “Chapter 1”, Jean-Daniel Fernandez-Qundez

Squid Game “Gganbu”, Nam Na-young

Succession “All the Bells Say”, Ken Eluto, ACE

Succession “Chiantishire”, Jane Rizzo

BEST EDITED MOTION PICTURE (NON-THEATRICAL)

Kate, Sandra Montiel, ACE, Elísabet Ronaldsdóttir, ACE

Lupe, Shiran Carolyn Amir

Oslo, Jay Rabinowitz, ACE

BEST EDITED LIMITED SERIES

Dopesick “First Bottle”, Douglas Crise, ACE

Mare of Easttown “Fathers”, Amy E. Duddleston, ACE, Naomi Sunrise Filoramo

Mare of Easttown “Illusions”, Amy E. Duddleston, ACE

The White Lotus “Departures”, John M. Valerio, ACE

The White Lotus “Mysterious Monkeys”, Heather Persons

BEST EDITED NON-SCRIPTED SERIES

Formula 1: Drive to Survive “Man on Fire”, Dan Ablett, Kevin Austin, Otto Burnham, Shane McCormack, Graham Taylor

MasterChef: Legends “Semi Final Pt 3 Chef Showdown”, Roger Bartlett, Matt Cluett, Greg Fitzsimmons, Dylan Hart, Ezra Hudson, James Messina, Rod Schultheiss, Austin Scott, Molly Shock ACE

Queer Eye “Angel Gets Her Wings”, Nova Taylor, Sean Gill

BEST EDITED VARIETY TALK/SKETCH SHOW OR SPECIAL

A Black Lady Sketch Show “Sister, May I Call You Oshun”, Daysha Broadway, ACE, Stephanie Filo, ACE, Jessica Hernández, ACE

Bo Burnham: Inside, Bo Burnham

Last Week Tonight with John Oliver “Union Busting”, Ryan Barger, Anthony Milae

BEST EDITED ANIMATION (NON-THEATRICAL)

Bob’s Burgers ” Vampire Disco Death Dance”, Jeremy Reuben

Rick and Morty “Gotron Jerrysis Rickvangelion”, Lee Harting, ACE

What If? “What If… Ultron Won?”, Graham Fisher, Joel Fisher

Úna Ní Dhonghaíle (photo from IMDb)

Remember Úna’s ACE nomination?

[celestialices]

QUEST!

Greek Mythology x Haikyuu

Haikyuu!Ensemble x Reader

Summary: You were just a perfectly normal student at The University of Tokyo, when suddenly a bunch of 'normal boys', as they call themselves, appeared in your life and started to squeeze themselves into your life. Always saying something like "You're a goddess, we need to take you back to Olympus" (you brushed it off, saying that it was just a silly compliment) and even absurd sentences such as "You got Medusa's eyes" and "You're really Medusa's daughter!"

You really want a peaceful school year, but the universe beg to differ.

005: JOURNEY TO EARTH

previous | next

masterlist

Kuroo could never get use to Underworld’s atmosphere. It is currently his second time visiting this week, it was unsettling. He never visits the Underworld unless it is need to, which is usually once a year.  The air was rotten and stuffy, contrasting to Mt. Olympus’ refreshing winds, it makes it hard to breathe. The acid red-blooded lakes, tall trees without leaves hiding the eerie sinners, and nerve-racking animals who seems to watch his every step. It was a hair-raising place. Although Kuroo can’t lie, it is the perfect abode for evil-doers.  “Where the... Where’s Suna?” Kuroo complains, he’s getting fidgety for standing in one place. Unlike the stares he gets in Mt. Olympus, he doesn’t enjoy this at all. It feels like they’ll eat him alive any time by now. “I’m here.” Suna appeared before his eyes, making Kuroo quiver in fear. Suna snickered, totally enjoying scaring deities off using his helm of invisibility. “Sorry, got caught up with Cerberus.”  “It’s fine. Let’s go to Asami before we leave.” Kuroo suggested. Today was the day where they’ll descend on Earth. Everything feels rushed; they just started discussing this matter three days ago. Kuroo feels like they’re catching time, but he accepts the hurry, after all, Medusa’s daughter is dubbed to be a dangerous goddess.  It took a lot of walking to get to Asami’s ‘prison.’ Oddly enough, it was not placed in Hades’ Palace, but next to Nyx’s cave. He doesn’t really understand why, but it’s probably for the better security, is it not? Nyx is one of the most powerful goddesses, Zeus even feared her himself. Because of her mysterious and dark aura, a lot see her as more of a villain frame than she ever seem to be. She is actually kind and loving, so Kuroo didn’t be inquisitive about it any longer. He sighs. My mind never got to relax in the past three days. As soon as they reached Asami’s (hopefully) temporary accommodation, Suna knocked at the door. Not even a minute passed, Nyx opened the door. It made the two stiffened, totally not expecting to face the goddess of night. “Visiting Asami?” Her voice is low and sinister, terrifying enough to make the two gods rethink their decisions and just run away. She glanced at Kuroo, who just sheepishly smiled at her. The two bowed, saying their greetings. Nyx is actually a respected goddess, a beautiful one, may I add. She made an impact to everyone, whether good or bad.  “Come in, Asami would be happy to see you.” Nyx smiled and made a way for them to enter.  “Thank you, Goddess Nyx.” Kuroo said, the amount of respect he has for her was immeasurable. Despite being portrayed as a dangerous goddess, it was all baseless rumors. If only she’d visit Mt. Olympus, maybe the deities impression of her would’ve been different.

“No worries. I thank you for visiting Asami. Poor girl, really.” She uttered, sorrow all over her voice. The two god could see the sincerity in her face. She really cares. “I’ll be going now. Pay her a visit whenever you please, Akagi will take you here.”  “I could never get use to Nyx’s kindness.” Suna said shortly after Nyx left. Hearing made up stories about her since he was young took a toll on how he sees her, so when he really met her after straying away from Persephone, he was shocked. 

“Yeah. She’s really kind-hearted.” Kuroo admiringly remarked. “Let’s go in, Asami is probably waiting for us.”  Kuroo and Suna entered the dark and strange house, staring at each accessory displayed. Dead flowers in a vase, paintings of Cerberus, Nyx and the Underworld, and the pale walls were not helping. How could one live in this?  “Tetsuro? Rintarou?” The two gods stopped in their tracks and stared at Asami before them. She actually looks good and healthy, a clear evidence that Nyx is taking good care of her. “Asami.” Suna called and stretched out his arms, asking for a hug.  Asami sprinted into Suna’s arms, the tight hug made it evident on how they’ve missed each other. It’s been a rough week for the both of them, oh how they’re glad to see a familiar face again.  “Thank you for visiting.” Asami expressed how happy she’s feeling with a smile. “Kuroo, you’re here again.” Beaming, she hugged Kuroo for a minute, already missed his presence despite the fact that they saw each other yesterday.  “We’re just here to say that..” Kuroo hesitated for a bit, unable to find the right words in such manner where Asami won’t get hurt or worried. “We’re leaving today, after we visit you.”  Silence.  “Oh.” Asami couldn’t hide her disappointment, but it was for the best. Finding the real daughter of her mother.. of Medusa was the top priority. She should still feel glad that they made time for all. Even if she’s just a mere human with no connections to the deities at all. “Oh! I wish you the best of luck.” She says, genuinely  Immediately sensing her dismay, Kuroo held her hand. “It’ll be better soon, Asami. Plus, I told Kenma and the others to visit you often, you won’t be lonely.” He assured her.  “We’ll handle this quickly, Asami. Then you’ll be free to wander around Mt. Olympus again.” Suna added. At the end of the day, Asami is always their top priority. No goddess could absolutely replace her. “I promise we’ll be back as soon as possible,” Kuroo grinned, ruffling Asami’s shining hair in the process. “We’ll chat with you for a while before we leave. But first of all, are you doing well?”  Asami giggled. “I’m doing great because of Nyx. How about the two of you? How is Mount Olympus? How’s my siblings? How’s.. Father?” She was dying to ask these questions, but restrained herself.  “Mount Olympus is fine. The information of Medusa’s.. daughter on Earth is kept within the superior gods, and some of our friends. It’s better that way.” Kuroo answered. It’s supposed to be kept within the superior gods only, but the news spread like a wildfire, until Zeus stepped in. “Your family is good. Shimizu said she’ll make time to visit you soon.” He glanced at Suna, motioning for him to continue.  “Iwaizumi is one of the deities to look for.. her.” Suna awkwardly mentioned, still not used to this whole ‘Asami-is-not-a-deity’ situation. “Kuroo, Suna. They’re already looking for you.” Nyx appeared out of the blue, startling the three of them. Seriously, what’s with the goddesses appearing out of nowhere? “My apologies for interrupting.” “No, not at all, Goddess Nyx.” Kuroo glimpsed at Asami before sighing. “Thank you for informing us. Suna, we better go.”  Suna only nodded, embracing Asami for the last time. “Take good care of yourself.”  They started walking towards the door, when Asami suddenly spoke.  “If you ever find her...” 

Kuroo and Suna looked at her with curious eyes, waiting for her to continue.  “Take good care of her, okay?”  Iwaizumi never felt more uneasy in his whole life. Kuroo and Suna returned from the Underworld a few moments ago, and after what Asami just said? It was upsetting. Asami doesn’t deserve the treatment she’s getting right now. “She’ll be okay.” Oikawa whispered to Iwaizumi. He knows empty words like “she’ll be fine” will not help at all, but at times like this, no one can ever be too sure. “Come on, we all know Asami.”  This at least made Iwaizumi feel a bit better. “I know.” Iwaizumi answered, feeling a bit bummed out that he pitied Asami for a moment. Out of all deities, he should’ve been the first to know that she’s a strong girl.  “The Olympians will arrive soon. We better prepare ourselves.” Kita announced, loud enough to let the other eleven hear. Everyone has been anxious for the past week, all because of the Medusa’s daughter issue. Especially the Twelve Greek Gods who were assigned to find the wanted goddess who’s currently living on Earth.  The wanted goddess who is either aware of who she is or has been raised as a human all her life. A goddess who might probably surpass Zeus’ powers with her ability to stay hidden. Everybody is afraid, no one can tell how things will turn out.  “They’re here.”  Suna sensed the immense ambience coming from the Olympians behind doors. It was powerful, so much energy gathered in one place that could destroy the human world.  The Olympians entered the chambers, all in their glory. Zeus with Hera beside him lead the group, making their way to the long table prepared for them. Their slow walking, in all probability that they’re thinking this as a red carpet, only caused distressed to the other deities present.  After what felt like a whole year, the Olympians finally made their way to their assigned chairs. Their chosen representatives stood before them, just like how they’re asked to. The only ones without someone behind them was Artemis. “Just as planned, what we discussed a few days ago will immediately relied to Sakusa Kiyoomi.” Athena started, a chorus of ‘yes’ was followed. “Do your best, gods. Earth is placed into your hands.”  “Make sure to take care of yourselves.” Hestia worriedly said. “Kunimi, come back right away if something that’s out of your hands happens. I’ll be with you right away.” The representatives’ hearts warmed because of what Hestia said. She truly lives up to her name.  “I forgot to mention.” All eyes were pierced to Zeus in a second. “The deity who’ll get her back here first will be rewarded.”  The representatives frowned. “A.. reward?” Kageyama Tobio, the representative of Aphrodite, asked. He’s unsure if he had heard it right, actually everyone is. He’s a brave soul for asking on behalf of them. Rewards were uncommon for deities, they’re the ones who usually gives rewards to humans. So hearing that is a bit..  “Yes, a reward.” Zeus repeated himself. “I will tell you once things settle down. For now, focus on your quest.” He reminded. His voice was clear and authoritative, it sent shivers to Kageyama’s spine.  Hades (replaced Hephaestus since the god didn’t send any) peeked at his son, both of them sharing a knowing glance at each other. Hades nodded at him before looking away. Even though he, too, doesn’t know what reward Zeus was talking about, he still wants Suna to win it. As long as Suna wins, he’ll be happy.  “As expected, my son, Kuroo, will take the lead.” Hera declared. No one really wants to go against her, so her companions stayed silent, letting her do what she wants.  “Shouldn’t we.. leave now?” Sugawara murmured to Akaashi who has beside him. Every time the Olympians gather was like stepping into Underworld. It is extremely suffocating.  Akaashi looked like he was uncomfortable too. He slowly leaned to Ares’ ear, “Father, you should suggest that we leave now if they want to find her sooner.” He reasoned, hopefully it’ll work on Ares.  Ares cleared his throat after Akaashi finished what he was saying. “My incredibly smart son wants to leave now so the search would be done in a heartbeat.” Ares boasted. Akaashi internally screamed, embarrassed by his father’s actions.  “I suppose you’re right, Keiji.” Aphrodite replied. “Go on now. Kunimi, do your thing.” She added, referring to the portal Kunimi will create in order to get to Earth. Hermes could do it too, but they agreed to let Kunimi practice his abilities.  Kunimi Akira stepped forward, claiming the center. He closed his eyes for better concentration, and slowly moved his hand in a circle motion in order to start the portal. You already practiced this, Kunimi. Calm down.  The blue circle Kunimi was creating gets bigger and bigger, a glimpse of trees is already showing. It is working! His concentration was broke for a bit, but immediately prioritized his attention to the portal he’s making.  A few minutes passed before Kunimi completed making the portal, him sighing in both relief and satisfaction because of what he did. He’s already pretty good at this, he’ll ace it in no time. “Well, it’s time.” Poseidon announced. “Do well, chosen ones.” Each deity entered one by one, from Kunimi to the last one, Iwaizumi. He’s walking towards the portal but didn’t forget to give a glance to his father one last time.  “I’ll bring her back.” 

A/N:  I just edited the previous chapters a while ago, but you don’t have to re-read it! I only added a few more sentences and details (that will be mentioned in the upcoming chapters) here and there, nothing important.  Again, comments, notes, and reblogs are very much appreciated! It motivates me to know that you are enjoying my story :) Forgive me if there are typographical errors in this chapter. :3  Send an ask if you have any questions! I’d be happy to answer them. Thank you so much for reading! I hope everyone stays safe and stay healthy. Take care of yourselves <3

[rjzimmerman]

The photo of the spaniels is not a cause for alarm. The dogs are not hunting and then eating the turtles; they are finding and retrieving them for the humans to study.

An ornate box turtle is brought in to the field study area for a wellness check, May 6, 2021, at the Nachusa Grasslands. (Brian Cassella / Chicago Tribune)

Veterinarians check the mouth of an ornate box turtle at the field study area at the Nachusa Grasslands in Lee County on May 6, 2021. A team of researchers and veterinary students from the University of Illinois Wildlife Epidemiology Laboratory located and did health assessments in the field on the threatened turtles. (Brian Cassella / Chicago Tribune)

Dog handler John Rucker collects an ornate box turtle that one of his six Boykin spaniels located and brought to him May 6, 2021, at the Nachusa Grasslands in Lee County. (Brian Cassella / Chicago Tribune)

Excerpt from this story from the Chicago Tribune:

The ornate box turtle is the subject of fieldwork this week in western Lee County, part of the 15th year of a box turtle health survey — the largest and longest in North America, researchers say. On Thursday morning at Nachusa Grasslands, vets and students had a canine assist.

“Mostly, they’re hunting for love,” said John Rucker, the boykin spaniels’ trainer who lives off the grid in Montana when he’s not sending his dogs into turtle country. The dogs don’t get a treat when they find a turtle, but they’re rewarded with affection after a long hunt. “That’s all the motivation they need.”

The ornate box turtle, about 5 inches long and streaked with yellow beams, was listed in 2009 as threatened in Illinois, a state where the prairie habitat the turtles depend upon is almost completely gone. Long-lived, terrestrial and found in more than a dozen states, the ornate is one of two species of box turtles in Illinois. They could once be found in about half the state’s counties. Now researchers believe the turtles are down to 10 counties.

“The loss of even a single species, even a population of that species, has immeasurable negative impacts on the environment that the rest of us live in,” said Matt Allender, Chicago Zoological Society clinical veterinarian and director of the University of Illinois Wildlife Epidemiology Laboratory.

“Looking in our own backyard, looking at species that we interact with in the environment that are sentinels for our species is critical to human health,” Allender said. “If we want to stop the next pandemic, we have to look at wildlife, we have to conserve wildlife.”

Because of the turtles’ long life spans, changes in their health can occur gradually and can be tracked throughout the years, Allender said. They also have small home ranges. So what’s happening with turtle health can signal what’s happening with the health of the ecosystem.

“The things that they’re exposed to very much tell us what’s going on in the environment — contaminants, changes in climate, changes in pathogen load,” Allender said.

[doc-the-wanderer]

A Titan’s Wrath

Gault stood on the top of a small plateau, looking down into the valley beneath him. Five Guardians were offloading contraband from an Arcadia-Class jumpship. Here, ‘Guardian’ was a very loose term. These five were all confirmed to have gone rogue after an attack on a small encampment a few miles from the European Dead Zone. Atreyus was busy with another situation on the Tangled Shore. Ragnar-4 was off trying to gather more information about a potential Dredgen Yor-like threat. So that just left Gault. The Dredgen. Dredgen Ira to be specific. Long before he wore the title of Dredgen as a snare, he was a Warlord of the Dark Age. Now, he struck out at those who crossed too far into the Darkness.

Gault’s Ghost, Jericho, materialized over his shoulder and looked down at the five rogues. “They still have no idea…” the Ghost made a noise similar to a snicker. “How long have you been standing here now?”

“Twenty five minutes,” Gault replied.

The Ghost seemed to sigh and shook his core in an imitation of humanoids shaking their heads. “Amateurs. Are you going to wait for them to notice you?”

The Titan shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet. Would make things more interesting. Give them at least a bit of a chance. But their lack of observation is really starting to piss me off.”

Jericho looked at him, absolutely puzzled. “Why would that bother you?”

“I trained two of those five down there. I expected so much more from them. But in the end, it’s on me. It would seem I’ve failed them far more than I originally thought.”

“Gault-” the Ghost was cut off as his Guardian raised his hand up.

“Don’t, Jericho. It’s time to begin.” Gault leapt down from the plateau. Upon impact with the ground, he discharged a blast of Solar Light where he landed. This created a small circle of charred earth and grass.

The rogues froze in place and shared glances amongst themselves. They dropped their cargo and went for their guns, but Gault was far too fast. He drew his Drang sidearm and fired six shots in quick succession. Three for the rogue closest to him, and three for the next. The first man he shot crumpled to the dirt, dead. The second stumbled back and went to raise his own weapon, but was met with a hammer of Solar Light that impacted him so hard it shattered his helmet. He then fell as well, also lifeless.

Giving into survival instincts and a touch of cowardice, one of the remaining three transmatted out. Gault was not concerned. He knew their patterns. Who they dealt with. The Titan or his companions would catch up to them eventually.

Now, however, it was just Gault and his former students. The three Titans found themselves at a stand-off. All of them had their weapons at the ready, but none moved. The wind snapped at their marks, making them crack amidst the otherwise eerie silence.

“My disappointment is immeasurable,” Gault snarled at last.

“Save us the lecture. We followed your example. Your path. It’s not our fault we embraced power over needless restraint.”

“You don’t follow my teachings at all. I taught brutality against the enemies of the Last City. Not against its people. The people you were meant to protect. I taught restraint when it was necessary. I taught being in touch with your emotions, but controlling them.”

“You wanted to hold us back. You all did. We’re done with it. We are not meant to be Guardians over the weak. The spineless. We are god!”

Gault shifted his feet and inhaled deeply. “You are not gods. You are misguided children on a power kick. You think your path brought you strength? It didn’t. This is the last chance I’m giving the both of you to see that and come back with me to be rehabilitated.”

One of the two rogues roared in anger and punched the ground, sending waves of Stasis crystals outward. The other went charging through the crystals, shattering them and flinging razor sharp shards throughout the gulch.

Out of breath but seeing nothing coming from the snow-like mist that spawned from their assault, the Titans called forth their Ghosts. “Did we get him?”

“I th-” A burning hammer cut through the fog and blew the Ghost to pieces.

“Ophelia!” Her rogue Guardian cried.

There was a sound like a massive bell being rung and a wave of heat caught the rogues like a punch to the gut. The mist cleared all at once, turning to steam. Gault had cast Burning Maul, and had the massive Solar warhammer leaned against his shoulder casually.

“I gave you a chance!” He howled as he leapt into the air, the Maul lifted over his head. The now lightless rogue clamored to get out of the way, but was not fast enough. As a latch ditch effort, he tried to shield himself with a wall of Stasis but the Maul cut through it like a blade through paper. His body disintegrated in a flare of Solar Light and a large wave of the same Light chased after the other. She leapt back, using her abilities to catapult herself to safety.

She hyperventilated and looked at the flash imprint of where his shadow was now permanently burned into the broken earth. Her panicked gaze then fell to the pieces of her friend’s Ghost.

“You killed them…” she gasped through her shaking breath.

“I gave them a chance.” He stated candidly.

“I- I thought it was forbidden for Guardians to kill Ghosts…”

“Now you care about what’s forbidden?” Gault yelled. “After everything you and your gang have done? After all the innocent lives you’ve cut short?” The Maul in the Guardians hands glowed brighter as he became more enraged. “You two were supposed to be better! You were supposed to be my greatest students, but instead, you both have become my greatest failure!”

The woman fell to her knees, showing her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I su-”

She exploded like her colleague, leaving another flash-imprint. There was silence for a moment.

“Come out, Constantine. Resurrect Jezebel. We’re going to take both of you in. Resist and I will kill you both for good.”

As her Ghost came out, the Guardian raised his sidearm, prepared to take his life. Constantine seemed to flinch, but did not try to flee. At this moment Jericho also appeared, flying in front of the face of his Guardian.

“Gault!” Jericho expanded, attempting to take up as much of the man’s field of view as possible. “Enough! It’s over! We can take her Ghost back with us. There’s no need for more death.”

“We can’t leave any witnesses, Jericho.”

“No! That was the old way of doing things! This isn’t like you. Not who you are today. Put your gun down. If you have to answer for perma-killing Ven and Ophelia, so be it. You should! You’re out of line!”

Gault ground his teeth, but knew Jericho would never let him hear the end of it. He begrudgingly returned his sidearm to its holster at the small of his back. “Detain Constantine then. Do not let him rez her. I’ll be on the ship.”

Gault’s Maul finally dematerialized and he turned and began the return to his ship. Jericho watched him go, worried about the seed of wrath blooming within his Guardian’s heart.

[the-real-srsteele]

😂❤️

😂- funniest memory?

Okay, so before I tell this story, I need to provide a little bit of background information:

I went to a *tiny* private school (like I'm not kidding, my graduating class was a whopping five students)

This story takes place toward the end of my senior year

My history teacher (for storytelling purposes, let's just call him Mr. Keith) was the senior class sponsor and was responsible for overseeing senior class fundraising and also taking us on our senior trip

Mr. Keith was a goofball with whom we enjoyed pulling pranks and all sorts of other hijinks

And here's the story:

One day at the beginning of class, Mr. Keith asked all the junior and senior guys to go out to his car with him and help bring in a bunch of stuff he had bought for one of the senior class fundraisers, and the girls were supposed to just wait in the classroom and chat or study or whatever. But once the guys were all gone, one of the girls (*not* me, btw) was like, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if they all came back and there was nobody here?" So all of us (except for two goody two shoes) went next door to the computer room, which wasn't being used during that class hour, and hid under the desks.

Then, well, wouldn't you know it, in walks the principal with the eighth grade class to have a super serious conversation about eighth grade graduation. Miraculously, nobody notices us, so we all just freeze, hardly daring even to breathe, TERRIFIED of what might happen if we were found out.

Meanwhile, Mr. Keith and the boys return, and the goody two shoes girls tell them where to find us.

So suddenly there's a knock at the door and in strides Mr. Keith, spotting us immediately. "I believe there are some people in the back of this room who belong in my class," he announces. Suddenly they all turn around and gasp. One girl even screams. Then we all get up and sheepishly follow our teacher out of the room under the disdainful glare of the principal.

Convinced the principal would require consequences for our actions, Mr. Keith gave us all demerits, though he was kind of amused by the whole fiasco himself.

The next day in advanced math class, the principal (who also taught upper-level math) confided in us that we had been the highlight of his family's dinner conversation the previous evening and that he hadn't really meant for Mr. Keith to give us demerits. Nevertheless, they stayed on my otherwise-spotless high school record.

❤- favorite teacher of all time?

This one is really hard, as I have had many excellent teachers over the years. I would say the one who's had the most impact on my life is probably my high school English/literature teacher. She was always challenging me to be a better writer and, though I hated the research papers she made us do, they helped me immeasurably when it came to college papers.

[brooklynmuseum]

The Brooklyn Museum mourns the loss of Dr. David C. Driskell, whose scholarship, teaching, and curatorial work were instrumental in defining the field of African American art history. His landmark, traveling exhibition Two Centuries of Black American Art, which made its final stop at the Brooklyn Museum in 1977, featured work by more than 200 artists and transformed the ways in which American museums framed and presented histories of African American art. An artist himself, his work was included in the Museum’s recent presentation of Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power.

Reflecting on Two Centuries of Black American Art in 2009, Dr. Driskell recounted how he wanted to bring “patterns of exclusion, segregation, and racism to the attention of the art public. [. . .] But it was also about engaging the establishment in the rules of the canon, so as to say, ‘No, you haven't seen everything; you don't know everything. And here is a part of it that you should be seeing.’”

We are grateful to Dr. Driskell for his immeasurable contributions to the field of art history, and will continue to carry his scholarship and his lessons with us.

***

“When Dr. Driskell spoke at the Brooklyn Museum last year as part of the programming for Soul of a Nation, he told me backstage how he had been on our stage in the 60s with civil rights heroes such as James Baldwin. He was so happy to have returned and could not have been more full of grace. Dr. Driskell has left a profound mark on the Museum’s history. While we mourn his passing, we also celebrate the ways that he shaped a history of African American art and advanced both the field and our institutions with clarity and conviction.”

– Anne Pasternak, Shelby White and Leon Levy Director

“An artist, educator, art historian, and curator across at least five decades, Dr. Driskell’s impact was not only field defining but field generating. When we talk about the ongoing project that is the writing and presentation of black art history against its erasure and/or dismissal, we must keep close what it meant for scholars like Driskell who began this work with few blueprints, summoning the great courage and clarity necessary to name and advocate for the importance of black art history – in the face of so many cynics and detractors. I live with gratitude for that fortitude. It was my absolute honor to include Dr. Driskell in the Brooklyn presentation of Soul of a Nation, and an even bigger honor to meet him and to welcome him to the museum for an unforgettable conversation with Dr. Elizabeth Alexander in the fall of 2018. I will hold that memory close.”

– Ashley James, Associate Curator, Guggenheim Museum, and former Assistant Curator, Contemporary Art, Brooklyn Museum

Two Centuries of Black American Art, June 25, 1977 through September 05, 1977 (Image: Brooklyn Museum photograph, 1977)

“Dr. Driskell's 1977 exhibition Two Centuries of Black American Art intended to, in his words, engage "the establishment in the rules of the canon, so as to say, 'No, you haven't seen everything; you don't know everything. And here is a part of it that you should be seeing.'" Museums are still catching up to this proposition today, and we can all benefit from acknowledging how much there is to learn from each other. And we learned so much from him!

In the New York Times review of that exhibition, critic Hilton Kramer dispraised the show, asking "Is it black art or is it social history?" Dr. Driskell responded: "All art is social history; it's all made by human beings. And, consequently, it has its role in history."

Rest in power Dr. Driskell.”

– Carmen Hermo, Associate Curator, Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art

“When I was an undergrad art history student at the University of Maryland, I ran the student art gallery and while this was between the time when Dr. Driskell served as Chair of the Art Department and when he was named Distinguished Professor, he was always interested and supportive of the clique of young artists and future art historians who hung out at the West Gallery. His generosity made a real impression on me and every time he walked in the gallery I would become completely tongue-tied.”

– Catherine Morris, Sackler Senior Curator, Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art

“Although I never got to know Dr. David C. Driskell personally, I did have the opportunity to hear him speak several times. When I first began studying African American art in college, I understood that David Driskell was a pioneer in the field. But, when I tucked into seats in buzzing lectures hall to hear Dr. Driskell speak as a grad student or subsequently as a museum professional, I heard about conversations with Aaron Douglas or summer at Skowhegan--Dr. Driskell painted a picture of a life lived with the people that made up the history I was devoted to studying. With the passing of Dr. Driskell, a connection to the past has been irrevocably severed.”

– Dalila Scruggs, Fellowship Coordinator, Education

“David Driskell’s life took him from a one-room segregated schoolhouse in North Carolina to the White House. Under the Clinton administration, Driskell, acknowledged as a leading expert on African American Art, worked with Mrs. Clinton to acquire a great landscape by Henry Ossawa Tanner, who became the first Black artist to enter the White House collection. This is only one example of the many doors Driskell opened in his quest to tell a more truthful and complete story of American history and culture.”

– Eugenie Tsai, John and Barbara Vogelstein Senior Curator, Contemporary Art

“I did not have the opportunity to meet Dr. David C. Driskell, but I fondly recall seeing him speak at a CASVA symposium, The African American Art World in 20th-Century Washington, D.C., at the National Gallery of Art in 2017. There, he participated in a panel discussion with other artists (moderated by Ruth Fine) regarding the city’s impact on his own artistic development. He spoke with such passion about James A. Porter and the legacy of his teaching at Howard University.

Driskell has also left an indelible imprint on the Brooklyn Museum and its own exhibition program, most recently with his inclusion in Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power. In 1976, he curated Two Centuries of Black American Art, which opened at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in 1976 and subsequently traveled to the Brooklyn Museum in 1977. In this groundbreaking exhibition and publication, he defined the “evolution of a black aesthetic” and called attention to such important eighteenth- and nineteenth-century artists as Joshua Johnson, Robert S. Duncanson, and Henry Ossawa Tanner, among many others. Driskell has significantly shaped my own thinking on American art and, in my own research, I am reminded of his rediscovery of the landscape painter Edward Mitchell Bannister who, after his death in 1901, remained largely forgotten.

Edward Mitchell Bannister (American, 1828-1901). Untitled (Cow Herd in Pastoral Landscape), 1877. Oil on linen canvas. Brooklyn Museum Brooklyn Museum Fund for African American Art, 2016.10

A tireless advocate for Black artists, Driskell led the charge in redefining the mainstream art historical canon. He forever changed the discipline and paved the way for so many, and for that I am grateful.”

– Margarita Karasoulas, Assistant Curator of American Art

Clips from Two Centuries of Black American Art, Los Angeles County Museum of Art © Pyramid Films, 1976. Brooklyn Museum Archives.

“One of the greatest treasures in the Brooklyn Museum Archives are the five videos that document the Symposium Afro-American Art: Form, Content, and Direction that occurred on June 24th and 25th, 1977 that was organized by David Driskell, the Schomburg Center, and Brooklyn Museum Staff in conjunction with the Two Centuries of Black American Art exhibition. In the afternoon of the first day, Romare Bearden, Selma Burke, Jacob Lawrence, John Rhoden, Ernest Crichlow, Vincent Smith, Bob Blackburn, Roy De Cavara, Valerie Maynard, and William T. Williams talked on stage for three hours about their artistic practices within the context of twentieth-century art traditions. It’s staggering to think of all those brilliant artists in conversation together—watching the footage, hearing the artists in their own words is profoundly moving.

When researchers are looking into the exhibition or are curious about the Museum’s history of exhibiting Black Artists, I’m always excited to share the material produced for, by, and of the exhibition. The archival material includes visitor comment books, the press kit, 22 folders of correspondence, the film produced for the exhibition, and the aforementioned symposium videos. The programming built around the exhibition was legendary, and the breadth is rarely seen today: seven artist studio visits (Howardena Pindell!), six supplemental exhibitions at other venues (The Abstract Continuum at Just Above Midtown Gallery!), twenty-two gallery talks (Dr. Rosalind Jeffries on the Harlem Renaissance!), dance performances (Sounds in Motion Dance Company!), concerts, and the list goes on. Driskell’s vision had a deep seismic effect on the art world. The people brought together at these events and programs, the knowledge shared, learned, and passed on to subsequent generations, none of this can be quantifiably measured or completely comprehended, especially from a remove, but its incredible magnitude can be felt when conducting research into the exhibition. Dozens of researchers have come to look into this history, and I look forward to welcoming future visitors to the Archives to learn more about David Driskell, hopefully inspiring them to perpetuate his monumental legacy.”

– Molly Seegers, Museum Archivist

[too-many-baes]

Who Needs Prom

Pairing: fem!reader x Peter Maximoff

Warning(s): N/A

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary/Request: Work colleagues and mutual crushes at X Mansion, Peter and you both manage to skip out of chaperoning for prom. You get to talking and discover Peter never went to prom, so you do your best to make it up to him. - by @evanpeters-petermaximoff

A/N: Once again big thanks to my darling for sending me another BOMB request. This was just such a cute request and I swear I had just like the goofiest grin on my face the whole time I was writing it. I don’t think I’m the best at writing dialogue, so sorry this one is pretty much just that P.S. Sorry it took me a gazillion years to get it up. Hope y’all enjoy!

The room is quiet, the halls empty. The only sound filling the room is you rustling around in the pantry, scavenging what you can while no one’s around to catch you in the act. You smile at your find, a box of chocolate covered Oreos, tucking them under your arm as you continue your search.

A little part of you wishes that X Mansion could be like this more often, quiet and serene to match the buildings grand exterior. You shake your head slightly at yourself, knowing that you don’t really wish that at all. You love the usually loud halls, the roaring voices and constant murmur reminding you that you’re privileged enough to work somewhere that provides a safe place where mutant teens feel free and happy.

In a regular school the mutants would be the solemn and removed ones, too scared of causing a scene or being discovered to do anything but keep their heads down. Not here. Here those same kids laugh, a laughter free of care and worry. Being a teacher at such a place fills you with immeasurable pride, knowing you’re making a positive impact on their lives.

Goodies carefully nestled under your arm and feeling triumphant you head down the hallway to your room. You’d barely sat down on your bed and opened the box when a loud gust of air immediately followed by rapid knocks at your door signifies the arrival of your favourite co-worker.

“Hello Peter” you greet in synchronisation with you opening the door, the silver haired boy leaning against the bannister opposite your room.

“That’s not fair, how’d you guess?” He says as he enters your room and plonks himself in the dead centre of your bed, brushing past you and increasing your heart rate unknowingly in the process. No matter how many times Peter has come into your room, the sight of him on your bed always makes you feel like a school girl with her first crush. Absolutely ridiculous, you’d scolded yourself more times than you can count, you’re a teacher, he’s a teacher. You’re too old for sillly crushes.

“What is this?” Peter asks with a gasp, holding up the open but uneaten box of Oreos accusatorily. “A whole box and you weren’t even going to share.” You raise an eyebrow at him, prompting him to swiftly grab several chocolate coated biscuits from within.

“Hey!” You rush to your bedside, leaning to grab your prized box as he holds it out of reach, “I found those fair and square!” Try as you might you can’t reach the cookies, Peter having longer limbs than you.

“Oh doesn’t feel nice when someone doesn’t share does it?” He asks teasingly. Throwing your hands up in defeat you sit on your mattress directly beside him, resting your back on the wall behind. His amusement ending with your defeat, he reluctantly places the now half finished box between the both of you.

Neither of you speak as you enjoy your chocolate treat and the increased beating of your heart. You’d have assumed your veins would be accustomed to Peter’s presence by now, but every time their increasing speed of moving blood around your body proves you wrong.

If you’d known each other when you were teenagers you’re sure things would have already played out differently, when you were more flirty and confident, unafraid to make a move and make your intentions known. Things are different now, you’re older and less inclined to take frivolous risks. In favour of keeping the work place as free from awkward encounters as possible you had chosen not to act on your school girl crush for now. No matter how much you wanted to.

“So”, you begin after you’d helped demolish the box, “what’d you do to weasel your way out of chaperoning?” As you spoke the entire student body were at the large hall that had been hired to host prom. This was the first year you and Peter were working together that one was held. Having been made to attend the previous ones, you wondered how he managed to evade attending his very first one.

“You really think Professor X would trust me at a glorified party without joining in?” He queries with a quirked brow, eliciting a laugh in agreeance from you. “What about you? Would’ve thought prom would’ve been your thing.” You tilt your head and furrow your brows in confusion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question light-heartedly, earning a disbelieving look from him.

“Oh c’mon, a girl like you? I’m sure you were prom queen five years running.” You let out a hearty laugh while you try to disguise the blush that crept its way on your cheeks with his words.

“You couldn’t be more wrong actually,” you disagree, “I was pretty forgettable in high school.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Just like the blush that had almost dissipated came flooding back brighter than before at his kind words and eyes that rested on your face.

“Okay then Mr. Class Clown”, you change the subject to bring some normalcy to your features, “what were you doing at prom? Spiking the punch bowl I bet.” Oh how wrong your joke was.

“I was never even at one.” You couldn’t keep the shock off your face which made Peter laugh lightly at you.

“Not a single one?” Your shock even more evident in your voice than it is on your face. He shakes his head, a smile at your surprise still present. “Why not?”

“I don’t know really. I didn’t get on with a lot of the kids at school and I guess I didn’t think it was important”, ending his sentence with a dismissive shrug.

“Do you regret it?” He thought on your question for a minute before answering.

“Yea… I think I do.” While you weren’t the prom queen Peter had predicted, you had always gone with a group of your friends. The photos and memories you have of those nights you cherish, the fact Peter couldn’t share in that saddened you for him indescribably. You’re sure he would have loved it. Laughing, clowning around, slow dancing… Slow dancing. That gave you an idea. You perk up instantly, tucking your feet excitedly under your body as you turn to face him.

“Peter, where’s your Walkman?” He seems confused, but like a puppy with other puppies he latches on to your excitement.

“In my room.” He ends with an upwards inflection as if it was a question.

“Go grab it.” Your hair flies around your face as you blink, seeing a seemingly unmoved Peter, but now his portable cassette player was firmly in hand. This time you all but leap from the bed, grasping Peter’s free hand in your own as you tug him out of your room.

“Where are we going?” He struggles to get his sentence out amidst his excited laughter.

“To the lake now c’mon.” You tug his hand even tighter with your last word. Unexpectedly he yanks back, briefly making you collide with his chest, effectively stilling your movement.

“I know how we can get there quicker.” You remind yourself to breathe as he quickly and firmly wraps his arms around your middle. “Hold on tight”, he speaks in your hair. You’re pretty sure you know what’s coming so you close your eyes as a precaution. One minute you were in the halls in the X-Mansion, the next you’re at the aforementioned lake separating yourself from Peter and gasping for air. Your empty lungs, while still to do with Peter, were not merely down to his presence or words alone this time.

“Sorry, it’s a bit jarring the first few times.” Eventually you settle yourself enough that you can stand up straight once more. You finally allow yourself to take in your surroundings as Peter was already doing. The lake usually shrouded with students was completely void of anyone barring you and Peter. The water rippled occasionally in the light breeze and the moon cast its beams upon it. Looking at the picturesque view before you it was almost like being in a Van Gogh painting, although you preferred your reality that included the speedster beside you.

“Set it up to start at the next song.” You motion with your head at the Walkman. He obliges, taking only a second before a genuinely innocent smile crosses his face. He hands you the right earbud, the left already taken by him.

“Haven’t worn through these ones just yet huh?” You ask, still smiling from his previous gesture which had made you notice he was using the headphones you’d gifted him. It was his birthday not all that long ago, you’d wanted to get him something so he knew you were thinking of him but you’d struggled finding an item that fit. Eventually you’d chosen the white headphones before you now, as the packet had guaranteed the buds would stay put while exercising. Perfect for a man that never stops doing just that.

“I think they’re the best ones I’ve ever had.” The music was quiet, probably due to the fact you were both restricted to one earbud. You reach over and increase the volume a couple of notches, the melody to one of your favourite songs filling your ears. It was slow too, perfect to dance to. You start swaying, but only just so it was noticeable. Peter gazes at you, watching you shift your weight from foot to foot in time with the song. Tentatively you take one of his hands in yours, holding it out to the side.

“Usually when music’s playing people dance.” Your joking probe breaks him of his momentary trance. Clipping the Walkman to his belt his places a delicate hand upon your waist, your free one laying upon his shoulder. You both sway like awkward teens making you realise you were giving him much more of an authentic prom experience than what you had thought you could. In Peter’s soft gaze your nerves dissolve more and more with every word sung in your ear. You get the courage to release his hand in favour of wrapping your arms around his neck, him following suit and encircling your waist.

If I had a box just for wishes

And dreams that had never come true

Jim Croce’s voice is melodic, it fills the moonlit air around you with a magic only the two of you could feel.

The box would be empty

Except for the memory

If you had a choice you’d stay in this moment forever, just you, Peter, the moon and his Walkman.

Of how they were answered by you

As answered by the very song you were listening to you just couldn’t, time would always slip away from you, no matter how much you wanted to cling to it in the hopes of eternalising this precious moment.

“Y/N?” He takes your unflinching eye contact as a response, and with a sudden confidence he leans in, capturing your waiting lips in a chaste kiss.

But there never seems to be enough time

To do the things you want to do

Once you find them

You thought Peter was done stealing the air from your lungs but his lips moving away from yours proves you wrong. He rests his forehead on yours, close enough that the breath he stole could dance against your face.

I've looked around enough to know

That you're the one I want to go

Through time with

The final notes of the song float through your ears. When it finishes neither of you can move, almost glued to one another. Maybe it was the moon, or the music that put magic in the air. Whatever it was you never wanted it to relinquish its hold on the both of you.

“Everything in my life is fast Y/N, I have trouble slowing down”, he announces seemingly out of the blue. You reluctantly move your forehead away from his to get a better look in his eyes, gently playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “No matter how fast, you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

If anybody else on planet Earth had spoken those words to you you’d have rolled your eyes, maybe even laughed right at them. The man in front of you was the only exception to that rule. He could make dirty words sound pretty, and he could turn cliché ones into poetry handwritten for your ears only.

The smile on your face is contagious, his lips mirroring your own while you search for the right words to say. How do you even tell him how you feel? He summed it up so perfectly that any words you could think to use seem feeble in comparison.

“Really?” is the only word that manages to make it past your teeth, leaving Peter to smile at you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I had no idea how to tell you, I’ve been too nervous.” You’re surprised at his words, you’d never have pegged Peter as one for nerves. “Apparently all I needed was prom.” Peter reaches down long enough to restart Time in a Bottle.

“Just once more” was the biggest lie told all night. That song played over and over, leaving you both in that magic moment you wanted to hold on to.

This was no prom. You had no chaperones, no curfew, no rules you had to follow. You’re both adults, making your own rules as you go. You had to silently disagree with Peter on one point though.

He didn’t need prom, neither did you. Prom paled in comparison to tonight.

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Sixty-Three

Right as rain, skipper!

I liked my eggs over easy and my people with bones intact. Actually, I think I had it the other way around. People were much better boneless, easier to get to the meat, and eggs always tasted better a little crunchy. But then again, I could have been thinking of salmon.

“So long, and thanks for all the…” Ah, a song of ancient times. I began to hum it to myself as I made my way to meet my date halfway. Such a long time spent in my cave, I began to feel a bit like an allegory for Plato. Or Prometheus if he never did that party trick with fire. But at last I could stretch my legs, and my legs could stretch as far as I allowed them to. Sometimes I thought that if I was a little more boneless, I could be less stretchy. That would have been a goal of mine at some point in time. Maybe in an alternate universe.

But now I had a different goal. One far greater.

“Frankly, my damn, I don’t give a dear,” I chuckled, hands in my pockets. That chuckle soon erupted further. Then I realized that the core of the planet, like ice cream in the middle of a store bought mochi, was what dog owners liked to call “real excitable”.

I didn’t have much time left. Nor did the planet. Neither of those variables were relevant. I’ve been holding the thing together, the same thing I helped destroy, all so I could get a bite in before the cookie crumbles.

Each step was slow and hesitant.

What did I have to fear? Such a good question, and maybe it was the Blanc in me who felt that way. When I say that, what I mean is all of me. I know, confusing. Just like how it all escalated so far, and for whatever reason, I chose to descend below the earth.

Well, if it were to end, I wanted to go out as human. Not because I disliked being part of something which had brought so much joy to my life, far from it. Rather, I wanted my last moment to be beside Euphoria, not us as one. I knew that wasn’t entirely possible, but my current state was something close to that. I felt like such a thought made me sad, but in a happy way. Unable to see the sad, we agreed to do what we could.

Besides, whoever the other living soul was who wanted me to see the end with them, they probably didn’t want to be frightened with the idea of me acting so happy go lucky in such an alien manner.

“Oh, but could you imagine?” I laughed to myself. It felt so hollow. There was genuine emotion, but there were more than just happy feelings behind it. Maybe, just maybe, the reality had dawned on me. Not so much that it was the end of the world just because the world was ending, but yeah. I felt it.

Heaviness with each step. As if my feet had turned to cement blocks. It was really here, wasn’t it?

Total darkness as I descended, stone and soil mingled together as they both crumbled above me. Little pieces fell on my head. If I was more euphoric, I would have made the debris fall everywhere but on me. But I accepted it, just like I accepted my situation. As much as I could, anyway.

Yes, I really did feel the weight of the world.

Such a large stone, hydrated and covered in land formations. In my indifferent, but infinite knowledge (if it made me happier to know something), the best I could compare the planet, my home, to was a parfait.

I gulped. In equal measure to the darkness, it was just as difficult to feel my way around. There were insects on the walls. What little life there was, and it just had to be the sort of things that freaked me out. Oh joy.

These stairs… I wondered. Were they crafted by someone, created as a path by Earth itself, or did they appear as a manifestation from my guardian angel?

Almost as if it were scripted to happen, I slipped and fell a few steps down. Each step scraped against my legs, and the pain surged. Something I had missed. Something I shouldn’t have wanted to miss.

“God damn, I’m so stupid,” I muttered. My voice trailed into an echo, as if other voices circled around me. Whole congregations chanting of my foolishness. Even more foolish, I refused to try and pick myself back up. The pain was minor, just scratches at best. But it was the culmination of both what and wasn’t around me.

It seemed to me like there really were voices. Whispers and chants. Speaking nothing, or maybe having conversations with each other. All of those people who lived on the surface, some sort of surface, and spoke of their routines. Crowded streets in cities. Towns of less than a thousand people as one neighbor greets another. That college student who talked to themselves over how much they dreaded each day and would rather stay in and play video games and forget that the world existed.

...That last one was more personal.

None of those voices existed. The only sounds were of the earth as it gave little quakes and the crumbling sounds from above. Little squeaky sounds from the creepy crawlers. There were no more people going on about their day. There wasn’t so much of a day to go on about. There were just moments. Immeasurable. Brief and endless.

I leaned forward and huddled my head into my knees. The tears came without me having to force them.

“This is why...this is why I depend on you so much…” I wept. I once likened the feeling of being one with happiness to like a drug, so it would make sense to think that I was experiencing some sort of withdrawal. But no. That wasn’t it.

It was the situation. How I came to be where I was.

That I lived on such a tiny fragment of this fucked up sphere (sorry-not-sorry flat earthers) for such a fragment of time. Less than a speck when compared to the life of this who-gives-a-shit planet. What good did it ever do me to live on it, anyway? It was always in a state of decay due to the decisions of the greedy and powerful, so maybe a quick death was better.

If I thought about how long I lived, as a copy of some other bloke with the exact name and face as me, it would only have been a little more than four years. In that time, several extraordinary things happened, and I got to experience much more than I ever thought I would have. I got to meet stoner aliens and time travel and meet all sorts of friends. None of that would have been possible if not for the circumstances that befell me.

But what I remembered of my life went beyond that. I remembered myself as someone who lived twenty years longer than I did. Someone named Blanc Slait. Even if that name could have been a further fabrication due to Etna’s memory interference, I believed I would have picked a name like that anyway.

My life consisted of confusion in the face of the world around me, a world which was much smaller than the entirety of the earth. Much of the time, my world was my bedroom. Video games and doodles. Comic books scattered around. Bags of chips and candy wrappers that I’d forget to pick up. Short and violent tempered parents who liked to see me neither in my room nor around them so long as I continued to be who I was. My brother, equal in being closed off, would try to bond with me and we would try to do things together, but it never really got much further than attempts at getting along.

I knew he struggled with his own things: we both had varying degrees of depression, and although he didn’t understand my issues with gender, we both shared similar interests. I wasn’t really sure how our parents were toward him, and thinking about it now scared me. Yet that never really mattered to me at the time and when I got the chance to bail on that house, I didn’t look back.

So maybe I eventually developed into what you might call ‘happy-go-lucky’, but what was so wrong with that? What was so wrong with being happy just to be happy? The life I remembered as the person I imitated was anything but lucky, and mine may have been much more fortunate than them. It was fine enough to think of myself as them, as the memories and the feelings behind those memories were the same. I wasn’t lying when I told Ves that her, Juniper, and Trent were like the family I never had. If Blanc had the same relationship with their brother that Juniper had with hers, maybe they would have led a different life.

But luck was what it was and some things just happened the way they did. Even though the life I had memories of wasn’t an easy one, so what? Should I have earned the right to my happiness? I hated such a thought. It made me unhappy and soon the thought vanished.

“This is why I depend on you so much,” I said once more. “I’ve always been on the verge of giving up. I’m scared. Unsure of myself. When I’ve acted in the past, it was with little rhyme or reason. Always ready to play the martyr just to have an excuse to die all while well aware that any action of mine will have little impact. I never felt like I belonged anywhere, and maybe I just felt like doing something, for some cause, would grant me the happiness I so desired. Less than from others, I wanted a smile from myself.”

“But now,” the tears crept out of me once more. “Even though I managed to be happy, and I managed to feel loved, and I got to see my friends again. Well...truth be told, I miss Conrad. There’s no getting around that. Err...I...where was I?” God damn. There was that too. Being human was so hard and having a train of thought was just impossible. “It’s just, thinking about all that’s transpired, and how now with the world ending and me along with it...what has it all amounted to?”

“HAPPY IS WHAT!” A little fairy appeared beside me. Or maybe it was one of my hands talking, and either way, they were comforting images.

I smiled.

“Yeah, you’re right, but…” But I shook my head, even if I agreed with her. Or what I agreed with was her enthusiasm. “I still feel I may as well sit here. The world’s going to end anyway. What reason is there to do anything?”

“DO ANYTHING!”

“Yes,” I changed my tune and picked myself back up. I could do anything. So what would I do? The answer was clear: meet up with whoever was so desperate to see me, then sit and allow the world to end with me in it. That seemed reasonable enough. Yeah.

At this point, one wouldn’t be at fault to suspect that I too would start doing the tried and true expression of Introspection™. Such a reliable tool, like a mallet, or a paintbrush. But there wasn’t anything of the sort, and not to mention, there wasn’t any reason to look inward. After all, I was the least complex being in the universe. I could live as a single-celled organism, except then I would get bored of being but a lonely little cell. So no, I couldn’t.

Truth be told, there wasn’t much more interesting to tell. I decided that my thoughts were done narrating. So I decided to think up an essay, instead:

In the amateur novella, ‘Happiness Overload’, the story opens up with the line ‘11:30 A.M. Fuck. Those numbers followed by those two letters would be the end of me’. That opening line is significant as the narrator (yet to be named), Blanc Slait, describes how they feel about such a time. That it would be the ‘end of them’. At first seeming random, the author chose 11:30 A.M. because of the phrase ‘at the eleventh hour’, signifying that the story already begins at the end, or, by the time it ends, the story has begun. But it hasn’t ended yet, as the end would have been noon. So with it being the eleventh and a half hour, it gives off the impression that there is still time before the end to change things. For the better? For the worse? Rather than answer those questions with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, the narrator instead chooses to answer with a ‘fuck’.

That one word stated after that time is a little ambiguous, as it could mean ‘at the eleventh and a half hour, it is time to fuck’ or it could mean ‘fuck. It is 11:30 A.M.’ As we soon find out by the next sentence, it is the latter. There is a term for such an expression after a time of day coined by scholars, known as ‘fucktime’. Fucktime can happen at any time of the day, regardless of the amount of fucks given. But, seeing as the narrators’ ‘fuck’ happens at a quarter past the eleventh hour, it can be assumed that many fucks (or just one) were given. That the fact that things were so close to the end warranted such a ‘fuck’, because what else could one say when one sees a disaster and is standing in the middle of it, but to say ‘fuck’?

In truth, the narrator could have said, ‘aw, shucks’, or ‘this is fine’, but the narrator chose fuck. Probably because such a word resonated with the narrator to such a degree that it was the only word appropriate to such a situation.

Later on, the narrator, a wisecracking, but demotivated college student undergoes a transformation, not too unlike Franz Kafka’s ‘The Metaphor’. Such a transformation is cause for another ‘fuck’, but instead, the narrator goes off on a quest for vengeance against the ones in power who spurred such a transformation within them.

It is by that final chapter, the eight chapter (another significant number, as eight sideways is infinity, suggesting that the story could have gone on much longer than eight chapters, but because the eight is not sideways, such a continuation is denied) that the main character dies to a villain who only appeared in brief spurts, Dr. (or Professor) Etna. The fact that she (an Artificial Intelligence, which says something, as all characters within a novella would have artificial intelligence, as their intelligence is reliant upon the author) insists on professor when she is also a doctor has such a great meaning that the meaning is obscured by the fact that the main character dies.

Although there are loose ends by the end of it, such as the clone of our protagonist, Blanc Slait, still roaming around, as well as Velvet and Conrad (two unrelated characters, save for the fact that Conrad was a friend of the first Blanc’s) trying to escape from a raid on their base, it can be inferred from the villain of the story that they will soon meet their untimely end as well. Thus wrapping up a short story in which a continuation is denied.

If the story were to continue, literary critics have argued, then the clone of Blanc could have gone on many adventures, while Velvet and Conrad...I don’t know? They could have sat on a beach sipping on coconut oil, the possibilities are endless. Yes. Such endless possibilities, like a sideways eight. Just imagine all of the other characters that could have been introduced, had the story a means of continuation. But at ending there, we can finally understand the true meaning behind ‘Happiness Overload’.

But before we get into that (which being an essay, the thesis statement should be at the beginning), notice the similarities between Professor/Dr. Etna and a James Bond(age) villain: for one, there are lasers involved. Second, Etna gives long speeches to the defeated Blanc Slait, powerless in all but their words. If the story had been a James Bond(age) movie, or any other kind of spy, secret agent, or superhero movie, then one would expect that at the eleventh (and a half) hour, our Blanc Slait would figure out a way to break free, either through words or actions. However, such a thing is not granted.

It is also in the final chapter that a few more things are subtly revealed. The first of which being that ‘Happiness Overload’ is a story without characters. Case in point, think of how many characters there are in the novella: there’s Albacore (not a character, a type of tuna meat), Blanc, Conrad, Ecstasy (not a character, a drug), Etna, Euphoria (not a character, a feeling often associated with taking Ecstasy), Kelly Roger, and Velvet. If one were to think of other characters, one might come up with the clone of Blanc, as well as the second clone of Blanc, who later became a tree. But because those two characters are also Blanc, they do not count. Also, one could count the old man that Velvet both helps and smuggles food from, but that doesn’t count, because the old man doesn’t have a name, and thus, nothing to project onto.

Now, with all of those characters in mind, which is a very small cast, to a very short story, how many characters does that make? The answer is zero.

First off, let’s start with Blanc, as in the final chapter, the shocking truth comes out: Blanc Slait is a pun on ‘Blank Slate’. Now, a blank slate, or tabula rasa, is a theory that individuals are born without built-in mental content. There is more to the theory, but it is irrelevant, as Etna points out in her next shocking reveal to the protagonist: Blanc’s memories were a fabrication. Meaning that what we had seen of Blanc up to that point, did not exist. And because we had nothing to project onto Blanc before the start of the story, Blanc as a character, does not exist (there is also the fact that the entire story is fiction, despite some eerie real world parallels, like how there are buildings). Take the age-old adage: ‘if a tree falls in the forest, but no forest was ever mentioned in the story, did the tree exist?’ The answer is no.

So because the answer is no, that can only mean that Blanc’s second clone, the one that became a tree, also did not exist. But what about the first Blanc clone? Easy. A clone is just a division of one’s self. However, because Blanc does not exist, Blanc cannot be cloned, because one cannot divide by zero.

What about Conrad, then? Blanc’s conspiracy theorist best friend? Well, the answer may surprise you: Conrad is a nihilist. See, Conrad is Blanc’s best friend, but Blanc does not exist. However, this is more metaphor than simply an ‘imaginary friend’, as Conrad also does not exist. Conrad is a friend of nothing, and what else is a friend of nothing? Nothing else.

Other scholars have argued that the significance of Velvet as a character cannot be overstated. However, that is an understatement. Velvet’s name begins with a ‘v’. As Velvet is the only ‘character’ in HO to contain a ‘V’ in her name, there can be no V’s. However, if there was more than one V, it might look like this:

VS.

As in, versus.

Therein lies Velvet’s true nature: a contrast. An opposing force. Both opposing force to what? Simple: existence. Kelly Roger, the supposed other character who lives in the same bunker as Conrad and Velvet, doesn’t trust Velvet because Velvet does not exist, yet hangs around Conrad, another character that does not exist. Because of Kelly Roger’s doubt of Velvet’s existence, Kelly Roger is ejected from the story, by none other than Velvet, thus barred from existence.

As we refer back to the possibilities as to how Happiness Overload may have continued, we are left to suspect that the character who utters the title of the story, Euphoria, is the only character in the story. However, since the power that Professor/Dr. Etna holds and the peril that is implied to befall the Blanc clone, as well as Conrad and Velvet, such a continuation of the story would have had to require something akin to a ‘deus ex machina’, or ‘god is in the machine’.

Euphoria, with her angelic power, is thought of as a god-like substitute, but because Euphoria in the end, is nowhere to be found, one can argue that no, god is not in the machine. In fact, there is no god because the god (Euphoria) is absent, and since the machine itself can only be run with a god within the machine, then the machine isn’t a machine at all, but an object. And an object without a soul cannot do anything.

So there can be no conceivable continuation of Happiness Overload, and it can only end on the eighth chapter. If there were more than eight chapters, it would be reasonable to assume that the story would go on to have 86 chapters, a number which is often referred to mean ‘get rid of something’. What would be gotten rid of? The idea that the story could continue past an eighth chapter. In fact, the story could never continue past the first line, because it was already half past ‘fuck’.

In conclusion, many a scholars in academia have posited that in the pulp erotica ‘Happiness Overload’, the author intended to try to find what it means to be happy, but upon further analysis of the final chapter, as well as the title, it all becomes clear that the answer is that there is no happiness to be found, as in spite of Euphoria’s best efforts, the story carries on with its grim conclusion, and all throughout, not a bright spot could be found. If anything, the author sought to create a story in which nothing can be found. With that, the author succeeded.

Furthermore, –

– If the story were to continue, disregarding the entire essay, it may go something like this:

At last, I saw a faint glimmer of light. Maybe that was what I wanted all along. To descend to the depths of hell, but arrive to a light at the end of the tunnel. Even if such a light was an inferno.

I looked around and noticed the light shouldn’t have been there at all, and it was a mere reflection from a steel pipe. I looked up at the cavernous ceiling, which up to that point, had been nothing but dirt and rock formations. Now, however, it was a rusted steel grating. I looked down to see what else but a steel floor. I stomped my foot and sure enough, the metallic sound reverberated through the air.

“Hello?” I cupped my hands and called out. No answer. Of course. What did I expect, being so far below ground and all. “Echo…” I tried to call, but there was no echo. Couldn’t fault me for trying. I was still human, after all. Human and afraid. I had to find whatever levity I could. Even a faint glimmer of light was enough to make me happy. All I needed was a little bit of happiness to get me through the end of the world.

Gee, I wonder what kind of place this once might have been. Maybe a factor? Or an underground laboratory? Or maybe it was something simple, like someone’s last happy wish.

Before I could wonder what else such a thing was doing there, and marvel at the shape, an empty, small rectangular area with a path on the other side, I heard footsteps approach. Then a series of claps. My heart wanted nothing more than to burst out of my chest.

“Those are my hands, not my buttcheeks,” a low voice crooned. Something charming, something menacing.

I should be relaxed, but I’m ill at ease. The only living soul remaining, but I feel no soul at all.

“Who are you?” My voice, and perhaps the rest of me, shook in fear.

Soon ‘he’ came into view: a tall, shadowy mass of a figure, a pencil-thin beansprout of a mountain, must have been between six and seven feet tall, and then some. Then some...somewhat of a misrepresentation, as this humanoid shadowy figure couldn’t be contained to a size and, although clothed (in what? Jeans and a T-shirt? A nightgown?), the clothes themselves were indeterminate. In other words, for all intends and purposes, as menacing as the figure was, ‘he’ was really just average in appearance. Save for the grin on ‘his’ face, that is. That grin stretched so far it seemed to encompass ‘his’ entire face.

I felt like asking, “are you the one who wanted me to come down to Earth?” But before I could, and before I could ask my follow up, “if so, have you figured out a way to stop the world from ending?” He spoke instead.

“At last. You look like you could use some help,” he flashed his grin, which I thought couldn’t stretch any further, but it did. “Allow me to give you a hand!”

He extended his arm toward me and out from his sleeve shot forth several masses of tentacles, which I assumed were meant to grab me, or pierce right through me. But luckily for me, I moved out of the way just in time.

“What the –”

Shadowy tentacles? Who else do I know that could do that? I wondered. Wondered because perhaps he was someone I had already met.

“Ecstasy? Is that you?”

“Babe, I’ll fuck your brains out,” came his ever so rude reply.

“Hey! Nobody calls me ‘babe’! Ecstasy may have been a literal double crossing succubus, but at least she was respectful!”

“Please! I’m no one!” He retorted, and that’s when it hit me: the dark clothes. The edginess.

“Albacore?!” Thank goodness. It only took four years to get his name right.

“I’ve no use for a name!”

Then both arms spread out and from them were an even greater array of tentacles. Every little one surrounded me, and against the claustrophobic nature of their being, I proceeded further while avoiding each one until I stood right next to this nameless person.

“But,” he looked down, us standing next to each other. “If you wish to call me anything, you may call me Marco.”

He then closed his arms in on me, or rather, tried, but I ducked down and swerved around him until I managed to get just behind him.

If up to this point, it seemed like I was untouchable, then the very next moment proved otherwise: Marco shoved right into me and I fell onto the jagged ground.

“Rather than try to attack, you thought you could avoid me and go on about your way. Is that because you know that you cannot harm me?” He chuckled, as if he just thought of a really good joke, but the joke was, I didn’t even consider trying to fight him. Yes, my prosthetic arm had a blade that could pop up, as well as my palm able to fire lasers, but if I was being honest, I didn’t even need such weapons. If I wanted to fight, I would. There was no reason, no stake for me to do so. Even if he had promised that the world wouldn’t end if I could defeat him, I wouldn’t care.

I shrugged and laughed, as if to react to the joke he might not have made.

“We met before, you know. Actually, we didn’t. But I ate your arm once. It was tasty, but without the nutrients I wanted. That was because I didn’t eat your arm, but the arm of another you. That was also because you weren’t ripe yet. But now that you are, I can swallow you whole.”

Oh. So I remind him of a long-lost lover. Right. Happens all the time.

“Please, Marco, sir, flattery will get you nowhere,” I tried to do my best flirty impression, but ended up coughing up spit on the last syllable and it was rather un-sexy of me, to be quite frank.

“Then again, I doubt you know that you can’t attack me. Well, you could know. But to know that, you would have to know about me. All the same, now you know.”

His mouth then opened wide and continued to open wide as it extended and multiple tongues slithered out from his mouth. Fear rose in me and I decided at last that the best course of action would be to run.

So through more dark caverns I went, and although I couldn’t see very well, that wasn’t a problem as I no longer felt any fear in me. As it turned out, being afraid didn’t make me very happy. So I found my composure, and what’s more, there was a faint light around me which allowed me to see any obstacles ahead: pipes blocking paths which I had to duck under and cross through. Boulders blocking every which way. The path itself was linear, but the clutter seemed random at best.

All the while, I heard Marco give chase behind me as he tore through each obstacle as if it were wallpaper. I looked behind me and a tentacle had shot forth and missed my face by just a hair as I had my head turned to the other side just in time.

“Only once I devour the angel will I be satisfied!” He declared.

So that’s what it is, huh? I should have known as much. Everyone and everything else got to experience happiness in some way, but he didn’t quite see the same results. If that’s what he wants, I’d be happy to oblige, but first, I need to see how far this rabbit hole goes.

Again, his voice rang from equal measures close and far behind:

“Tell me, traveler, what is your goal in life?” His voice took the turn of some wise old man, or one I’d imagine in a high fantasy novel.

“As long as I’m happy, I don’t need anything else!” I answered.

“An unfulfilled life is an unhappy life,” he then said, and this time, he sounded mournful. Then again, it sounded like a playful mourning. Like someone in a theater production trying out melodrama.

“Can’t relate!”

“To what?” He asked.

I shrugged as I descended further down, and heat rose around me when before, it was actually rather chilly down there.

“I just can’t relate.”

But then again, if that was the way he saw things, maybe there was some truth to it, as I had two goals over the course of my journey: to be happy, and to see my friends again. And yet, even though I didn’t get to see all of my friends (RIP Conrad), I was still happy. As long as I was happy, then no other goal mattered. Because happiness itself was the ultimate of goals. Maybe he felt the same way, but as I was satisfied to be happy, he seemed like he couldn’t be happy unless he was satisfied. Then again…

I stopped.

I turned around to face him and I saw as plain as day with his hands raised, each finger turned into several worms with razor skin.

“You’re someone who loves contradictions, huh?” I proclaimed in what may have been my boldest statement yet. “You accelerated this, didn’t you? Because once the world ends, and you having devoured the same creature which overjoyed everyone else, then you would finally be ready to die? Because you’ll have fulfilled some lifelong goal, is that it?”

“Birds of a feather make for chicken strips!” He growled, or giggled, or groveled.

“Is it pretty fun for you? Getting your kicks chasing me, your ultimate goal?” I couldn’t help it. Now I was getting into the fun as well. I didn’t even want to, but I couldn’t help myself. “Then let’s keep up the chase. Come on, we’re almost there. Except it will never end.”

Where such a burst of confidence came from, I wasn’t sure. Well, I had a few hunches. Did I really know something he didn’t? No. But I knew things that he did, because I was happier to know than to stay in the dark. I understood now why Etna had given up and I understood how he would be defeated. Just as he did. The way he saw it, he’s seen such things play out several times now, and in his inconsistent mind, such an ending was an ending for him as well. But Marco was a being who craved opposites. The only thing that would satisfy would be utter disappointment.

So I ran and lost my footing. Maybe on purpose. I slid down and down for miles and kilometers on end. Darkness gave way to light, which gave way to further darkness, until at last, I arrived at the end of the cave where a faint blue glow welcomed me.

I stood up and looked around. As I felt the warm, yet cool to the touch stone wall, I nodded. Beside that wall was a rock. One which I could sit upon. So I did, and as I took my seat, Euphy, Euphoria, and all the other names that made her happy, sat beside me. Then Marco arrived and stood there. He looked me in the eyes.

“There’s nowhere else to run,” he declared. Something told me he really loved to play up the villain angle. Well, of course. Playing hero could only be fun for so long. But so could playing villain. And the back and forth must have gotten boring for him as well. All the same, I couldn’t disagree with his statement. So I smiled.

“Indeed. That’s why I’m sitting.”

All around us, the ceiling and the floor shook and crumbled, yet above and below us, we remained. Heat rose, but neither of us seemed to pay the intense temperature any mind. There really was little time, if any time left at all. He knew that he won, or believed so to such a degree, anyway. Yet in his victory, instead of open his mouth wide or chew apart my limbs and organs bit by bit, he just fell to his knees and sat.

For whatever reason, I became the one who grinned. His epiphany was about to set in, and no amount of high would stop the realization.