#it doesn’t help that the assignment for both was ‘pick 3 sources from class and write about a topic’

[dreamofbecoming]

got my first paper back from my human rights class (the second one is due tomorrow lmao) and i got an a and he like. pointed out bits he liked? which was nice! for sure! but there’s no criticism at all so i feel completely unmoored for this next one. like i was really hoping i would have specific things to work on or fix that would help me center my writing but nope, i’m just winging it again. and like, i should be glad that i did well and he apparently likes my writing, but also i’m just kind of. agh. you know??

[objectwaysblog]

Data Labeling Strategies for Cutting-Edge Segmentation Projects 

Deep learning has been very successful when working with images as data and is currently at a stage where it works better than humans on multiple use-cases. The most important problems that humans have been interested in solving with computer vision are image classification, object detection and segmentation in the increasing order of their difficulty. 

While there in the plain old task of image classification we are just interested in getting the labels of all the objects that are present in an image. In object detection we come further and try to know along with what all objects that are present in an image, the location at which the objects are present with the help of bounding boxes. Image segmentation takes it to a new level by trying to find out accurately the exact boundary of the objects in the image. 

What is image segmentation? 

We know an image is nothing but a collection of pixels. Image segmentation is the process of classifying each pixel in an image belonging to a certain class and hence can be thought of as a classification problem per pixel. There are two types of segmentation techniques 

segmentation: - Semantic segmentation is the process of classifying each pixel belonging to a particular label. It doesn’t different across different instances of the same object. For example, if there are 2 cats in an image, semantic segmentation gives same label to all the pixels of both cats 

Instance segmentation: - Instance segmentation differs from semantic segmentation in the sense that it gives a unique label to every instance of a particular object in the image. As can be seen in the image above all 3 dogs are assigned different colors i.e different labels. With semantic segmentation all of them would have been assigned the same color. 

There are numerous advances in Segmentation algorithms and open-source datasets. But to solve a particular problem in your domain, you will still need human labeled images or human based verification. In this article, we will go through some of the nuances in segmentation task labeling and how human based workforce can work in tandem with machine learning based approaches. 

To train your machine learning model, you need high quality labels. For a successful data labeling project for segmentation depends on three key ingredients. 

Labeling Tools 

Training 

Quality Management 

Labeling Tools 

There are many open source and commercially available tools on the market. At objectways, we train our workforce using Open CVAT that provides a polygon tool with interpolation and assistive tooling that gives 4x better speed at labeling and then we use a tool that fits the use case. 

Here are the leading tools that we recommend for labeling. For efficient labeling, prefer a tool that allows pre-labeling and assistive labeling using techniques like Deep Extreme Cut or Grab cut and good review capabilities such as per label opacity controls. 

Workforce training 

While it is easier to train a resource to perform simple image tasks such as classification or bounding boxes, segmentation tasks require more training as it involves multiple mechanisms to optimize time, increase efficiency and reduce worker fatigue. Here are some simple training techniques 

Utilize Assistive Tooling: An annotator may start with a simple brush or polygon tool which they find easy to pick up. But at volume, these tools tend to induce muscle fatigue hence it is important to make use of assistive tooling. 

Gradually introduce complex tasks: Annotators are always good at doing the same task more efficiently with time and should be part of the training program. At Objectways, we tend to start training by introducing annotators with simple images with relatively easy shapes (Cars/Buses/Roads) and migrate them to using complex shapes such as vegetation, barriers. 

Use variety of available open-source pre-labeled datasets: It is also important to train the workforce using different datasets and we use PascalVoc, Coco, Cityscapes, Lits, CCP, Pratheepan, Inria Aerial Image Labeling. 

Provide Feedback: It is also important to provide timely feedback about their work and hence we use the golden set technique that is created by our senior annotators with 99.99% accuracy and use it to provide feedback for annotators during the training. 

Quality Management 

In Machine Learning, there are different techniques to understand and evaluate the results of a model. 

Pixel accuracy: Pixel accuracy is the most basic metric which can be used to validate the results. Accuracy is obtained by taking the ratio of correctly classified pixels w.r.t total pixels. 

Intersection over Union: IOU is defined as the ratio of intersection of ground truth and predicted segmentation outputs over their union. If we are calculating for multiple classes, the IOU of each class is calculated, and their meaning is taken. It is a better metric compared to pixel accuracy as if every pixel is given as background in a 2-class input the IOU value is (90/100+0/100)/2 i.e 45% IOU which gives a better representation as compared to 90% accuracy. 

F1 Score: The metric popularly used in classification F1 Score can be used for segmentation tasks as well to deal with class imbalance. 

If you have a labeled dataset, you can introduce a golden set in the labeling pipeline and use one of the scores to compare labels against your own ground truth. We focus on following aspects to improve quality of labeling 

Understand labeling instructions: Never underestimate the importance of good labeling instructions. Typically, instructions are authored by data scientists who are good at expressing what they want with examples. The human brain has a natural tendency to give weight to (and remember) negative experiences or interactions more than positive ones — they stand out more. So, it is important to provide bad labeling examples. Reading instructions carefully often weeds out many systemic errors across tasks. 

Provide timely feedback: While many workforces use tiered skilled workforce where level1 workforce are less experienced than quality control team, it is important to provide timely feedback to level1 annotators, so they understand unintentional labeling errors, so they do not make those errors in the future tasks 

Rigorous Quality audits: Many tools provide nice metrics to track label addition/deletion or change over time. Just as algorithms should converge and reduce the loss function, the time to QC a particular task and suggested changes should converge to less than .01% error rate. At objectways, we have dedicated QC and super QC teams who have a consistent track record to achieve over 99% accuracy. 

Summary 

We have discussed best practices to manage complex large scale segmentation projects and provided guidance for tooling, workforce upskilling and quality management. Please contact sales@objectways.com to provide feedback or if you have any questions. 

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 2

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn warnings: lots of swear words, tsukki being a a closet softie wc: 6k (lol no chill as always)

[a/n]

Sorry for the delayed update. I added almost 1k words just to solidify the characters to give depth even more to the story. Feel free to reread. (It's totally not because I started a different series altogether.)

When I say this is slow burn, I meant sloooooooowww burn. 

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. :)

AO3 

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

What were you even thinking? Actually,  why weren’t you? Had you used at least two brain cells of yours, you wouldn’t have momentarily lost your mind and kissed Tsukishima. You could’ve justified your actions if you were drunk, but you ingested not even an ounce of alcohol that night.

History will remember yesterday as the day a a sober you and a very displeased Tsukishima who found yourselves smooching publicly in the middle of a club. You’re just glad that no other member of the team goes to the same university you both go to. Else, you'd run the risk of getting seen.

Were so touch-deprived that you couldn’t resist even Tsukishima? And what about him? Why did he get along with it? You don’t think he actually hates you. Hate is such a strong word. He just exceedingly dislikes you. So why would he make out with you? Maybe he thought of it as a way of finally standing up to you?

Ugh.

You’re thankful that you didn’t have training yesterday. You were a mess the whole day trying to make sense of what happened. Not that you’re any better today; you’re still baffled as fuck. But you’re glad you had that day off so you wouldn’t have to face him immediately. 

For the first time ever, you’re dreading going to the gym. Even if you’re tired or you lack sleep, you’ve never felt distressed as the manager of the Sendai Frogs. All this because of Tsukishima. But can you really put the blame on him when it was you who initiated it?

“Good morning, y/n,” Eiji, the captain of the team greets you.

“Morning, Eiji,” you say back. Even though he’s older than you, you dropped the salutations already, same with everybody else. 

“You okay?” he asks worriedly. 

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely! When am I ever not okay?” You toughen it up and erase the troublesome kiss in your head. You are their ever shining manager, first and foremost. Anything outside of that has no place in this gym. 

“Never. It’s almost scary actually,” he answers with jest.

“Right? ‘Cause I’m a freaking goddess.”

He gives you a noble bow. “Indeed, you are, my lady.”

You giggle softly. Your players really are the best on and off the court (except for Tsukishima). “Go do your drills instead of buttering me up, ‘captain.’” He gives you a mock salute then jogs off towards the net. 

“Y/n!”

You saunter off to your coach after you were called. “Yes, Coach?”

“Can you help tape the blockers?” You nod willingly, quickly discarding unnecessary thoughts of Tsukishima. 

“Tsukishima’s free. Go start with him.”

You almost flinch upon hearing his name.

‘Great,’ you groan internally as you get the wrap from your kit and drag your feet toward the source of your uneasiness. But what did you expect? Of course, you’d have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Morning, Tsukishima,” you greet him with forced normalcy, acting like nothing’s wrong. As you take his left hand and you’re instantly reminded of what happened the other night -- how this hand gripped your waist while his mouth moved against yours… how his skin felt against the palm of your hand as he towered over you, body against body in a dance so dangerous and so hypnotizing that you lost yourself in the moment.

You tried your best to calm down yesterday, but seeing him right now makes you want to smack yourself from your momentary insanity that led you to kiss him.

Instead, you give him the nicest, brightest smile to channel your frustrations as you start taping his fingers. You just hope and pray that he doesn’t bring it up.

“Morning,  manager .” It was an indirect jab at you. Even when he says it with a dead tone, you know he’s taunting you by addressing you as manager - a tortuous reminder that what happened last Saturday night wasn’t forgotten.

Instead of yielding to the provocation, you respond with your own. You might have messed up, but you’re not letting him get the upper hand. “How was your weekend, Tsukki?” 

“Horrible,” he quickly answers without even thinking.

“Ditto. What happened to yours?” you ask with fake curiosity, already knowing why. Even if you didn’t kiss him then, he was already acting up like an angsty teen forced by his mom to attend a children’s party within the neighborhood.

“Went to a disgusting party.”

You nod pretentiously. “Mine’s horrible too. I got g-”

“I didn’t ask,” he interrupts.

“Well, you’re still going to hear it,” you respond just as distastefully as he cut you off. “I got groped by some perv, but I kinda punched some good manners unto him.” You release his left hand and take his right one to tape it as well. 

“And?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s it. After that, I just went home from how  horrible  the experience was.”

You look up to him, meeting his sardonic gaze paired with a raised eyebrow from what you just said. You know that he understood that you were referring to something else other than the perv incident as horrible.

“How about you? What happened to that disgusting party of yours?” you press on.

“I bumped into someone I didn’t really want to see.”

“And?”

“Do you really wanna know how horrible it was for me?” A smirk creeps up on the corner of his mouth as he asks. There were many times before that you’ve wanted a taste of Tsukishima’s vile sarcasm, just to know what he’d say to you. Today is not one of those times. You don’t want him using that reckless kiss against you. 

“Actually, no. I don’t really care.” You let go of his hand you just finished working with and look around to look for anyone you could use as a distraction from Tsukishima’s attempt to retell the kiss from his perspective.

“Kogane!” you brightly call the setter as you bounce cheerfully towards him. 

Even if you don’t show it, Tsukishima knows he’s gotten under your previously impenetrable thick skin. He detests what happened last Saturday. The more he remembers it, the more he abhors it. The only reason he’s not totally hating himself for getting swept along with your shit is because he knows you hated it too, probably more than he does since it was you who kissed him first.

His smug grin only spreads when you march to Kogane with that cutesy act you only show to players from opposing teams to unsettle them before matches. You take both Kogane’s hands and beam at him. “Do you want me to tape your fingers?”

“Y-you don’t have to, y/n. I can do it myself!” Kogane blurts out, panicking at your sudden closeness and physical touch.

“But I love taking care of you guys,” you pout at Kogane, which only makes the setter blush a shade almost close to red.

Tsukishima follows you to help his babbling, flustered teammate.

“You’re going to kill him, y/n,” he says as he passes by you and Kogane who now looks like he stopped functioning.

You blink at Kogane, realizing what you’re doing to the poor guy.

You must have been really bothered by Tsukishima and unknowingly projected it to someone else.

Tsukishima sneers as he sees you try to ease Kogane from his severe fluster but only make it worse by rubbing his shoulders. 

A dash of pride and satisfaction swells on Tsukishima’s chest as he watches you get agitated with the situation you, yourself caused. Getting back at you feels even better than he imagined it would be. 

--

Even though you and Tsukishima are in the same class, you don’t really notice his presence. Sometimes you’d even forget you’re classmates. Now, though, you are more aware of the fact that he’s actually there than you ever have.

“Alright, class. For your main project this semester, I’m going to have you partnered up. You need to come up with a comprehensive report on mating behavior of reptiles. I’ll randomly generate your assigned reptile.”

You groan. Another collaborative work in the same subject. You don’t like working with others because you don’t want to adapt to anyone’s schedule. You like to get things done ahead of time. You hate procrastinating because you don’t want your uni requirements getting mixed up with potential tasks from your managerial job, especially whenever tournament seasons come. 

The last collaborative work you worked on is a group project where you did most of the work yourself. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t have fucking freeloaders as groupmates.  The little shits made you do 90% of the project because you wanted it done early.

You just pray that this time, you get to be paired with someone responsible. You tap your pen on your desk while you wait for your name to be called.

“L/n and Tsukishima.”

You drop your pen at your professor’s announcement. It bounces twice on your desk before rolling to the floor, but you don’t move to pick it up. Your gaze immediately flies to where Tsukishima is seated and find him glaring at you already. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation is.

Seriously? Were you a serial killer in your previous life or something? Did some higher power decide to punish you for your grave sins like this? 

Whatever. You’re not having any of this shit. 

You wait until the class is over and approach your professor. “Sir. I’d like to do this project alone.” Or at least with someone else. 

He continues to type something on his laptop, not bothering to look up at you, as he asks, “Why is that?”

“I just feel more comfortable doing things on my own, Sir. Please.” You try to give him your nice student smile but his eyes don't leave his screen.

“Then what? Have you increase my workload?”

Shit. You forgot that this particular professor of yours is known to not budge to anyone. You scramble your brain for another excuse.

“Sir. Can I do this project alone?” you suddenly hear Tsukihima’s voice behind you.

Finally, your professor closes his laptop and eyes you two unenthusiastically. “My answer is no to miss Y/n, so my answer to you, Mr. Tsukishima, is also no. I don’t know what the deal is between you two, but you’re doing this together.”

You can’t help but scowl despite being right in front of your professor. If it wasn’t for that darn kiss, you would’ve loved working with Tsukishima. Even though you don’t have the same classes, his schedule won’t be that hard to match up with because you two have the same training days. Secondly, he’s smart. You won’t have to carry the whole weight of the project. 

“You know what, I’ll reconsider.” A glimmer of hope lights up in your chest as you hear your professor’s words. “I’ll allow you two to work individually — but with an automatic ten point deduction for this project.”

“No,” you and Tsukishima respond at the same time. 

“Great! You’re already getting along swimmingly.” Your professor picks up his stuff and stands up. “Enjoy,” he waves a dismissive goodbye and leaves.

You slowly turn around to face Tsukishima and find that you share the same lour that he has. You cross your arms and lean on your professor’s desk. “Guess we’re together, Tsukishima.” 

--

You allowed yourself one week to compose yourself before you agreed to start the project with Tsukishima. You still saw him at training days, and even then, you tried to have the least amount of interaction with him so the ‘incident’ wouldn’t be brought up again. Meeting him for a project where it’s just you two is different and you needed time.

As much as you don’t want to be with him, you told yourself that it’ll be over soon. You just pushed the kiss in the back of your head and convinced yourself that it was just a stupid kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He probably just went along with it out of spite, so it’s best you think of it as a spur of the moment madness. That way, you won’t be bothered if he sordidly brings it up again. At least now, you can go back to your usual, cheeky self around him.

You’re about to text Tsukishima that you’ve arrived at the station you agreed to meet up at but you already see him there standing while he’s scrolling his phone with his usual white headphones on.

Unfortunately for you and him, the reptile assigned to you two are crocodiles. It’s the worst possible assignment you could get among the roster of reptiles assigned. You need to travel all the way to Wakabayashi for a legitimate crocodile farm to observe, compared to other reptiles which are easily accessible with nearby zoos in Miyagi. You just pray that you’ll only need this one trip to get all the data you need for your report.

You walk towards him and instantly regard how he looks. Despite being in the same university, you don’t see him around much. Even in your sole class together, you’re seated way too apart from each other to even look at each other’s direction. Not that being seated beside each other would’ve made a difference. You’re not friends. There’s no need to talk to him since everything that’s volleyball-related is relayed through line. To you, he’s just one of your players. As far as you’re concerned, the only Tsukishima you’re aware of is the one sweating his white shirt and training shorts during practice. 

To have this much involvement with him outside the gym is throwing you out of your usual loop. You continue studying him at a distance. Today he’s wearing white plaid pants, black turtleneck (probably long sleeves) with a lighter shade of black coat on top, and a brown wool scarf. He also has a gray bonnet that makes his blonde locks frame his face nicely. 

What the heck? Did he always dress like this even in class? How come you never noticed? 

He finally notices you. He puts down his phone and removes his headphones. “How long have you been there?”

“Wow, Tsukishima. You look kinda hot,” you blurt out without thinking.

His eyes expand at your statement that came out of nowhere. “Huh?!”

“Oh, sorry. That must’ve been random. But you look really good though. I kinda feel like I’m meeting a date,” you say with objective candor as you continue to stare at him. 

That catches him completely off guard. The other day you’re on the edge around him. You weren’t even paying much attention to him during training, but now you’re back to being a headache whose mouth knows no bounds as you faze him with your unfiltered thoughts. Now, it’s him who is uncomfortable again with your thorough eyes scanning him approvingly. 

“As if I’d ever date you,” he snaps back at your remark to which you scoff at.

“I didn’t say you would. Maybe you’re forgetting, I’d never go out with a member of the team.”

“Right. But kissing one is totally fine, huh?” he retaliates in an instant with a condescending look. He waits for your reaction, eager to see you distraught and bothered by it. To his dissatisfaction, you don’t behave in such a way. Instead, you sigh defeatedly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I got a little crazy that night,” you say casually to a degree that you sounded like it was just a petty accident. “You kissed me back, so I’m sure you were too. Right?” 

The last word is conniving, and he can tell why you phrased it that way. You’re leaving him no choice but to disregard what happened or else it’s going to seem like it meant something to him. The hell it does. It simply resurfaces back on his mind sometimes because of how unpleasant the memory is. 

‘Devious woman,’ he snarls in his head.

It should be okay. Your reason for what you did can also be his excuse for how responded to it. What he didn’t like is that he hasn’t even managed to make the most out of that incident, while you immediately found a way to undo the grave you dug for him to bury you into.

Plus, the only advantage he sees out of partnering with you for this project is the possibility of being able to pester you the way you pester him during practice. Obviously, that’s already thrown off the window. Now, there’s nothing in it for him for the duration of the project. He is left with nothing but the fact that he has to endure your company. To think that he’s already so miserable when this afternoon has barely even started.

“Yeah,” he answers with contained resentment. “Can we go on the bus now?” He asks to deviate away from the topic already. He was hoping he could still use the incident to unnerve you, but it’s for naught now. 

He enters the bus first and assumes you’ll follow him, which you do as you take your seat beside him. You get your shoulder bag and take out a notebook.

“Can you take a look at this outline I made for our report?” you ask while you hand him your notebook opened at a certain page.

“I can’t read while the bus is moving,” he says then waits for a lame comeback from you. But you don’t comment about it. Why must you keep on being such a wildcard?

“Ah, okay. I’ll just tell it to you then,” you smile at him. “This trip is going to take long. It’d be a waste of time to not make use of it, right?”

He groans internally. Why must you be right all the fucking time?

He also made an outline last night, but he didn’t tell you because he thought it’d be better if he just did the data-gathering himself and let you take the pictures the report should have. He forgot that you’re not as irresponsible and carefree as you present yourself to be.

He listens to you explain your outline, looking for flaws in it for the sake of his grade and also for his self-satisfaction. And he does find a few.

“You should have separate discussion points for mating characteristics for male and females. I’m sure they have distinct traits. Also, I think we should include more than just one species, preferably three if the farm has it.” He continues, “Maybe we can note certain unique behaviors per species. It would be inconclusive, but it would still be nice to include it as a commentary.”

He hopes to extract even just a tiny hint of embarrassment from you for he’s thought of it better than you did. But you just stare at him for a good few seconds before you break into a dazzled smile.

“Oh my God. Yeah, you’re absolutely right!”

You open your notebook and scribble the changes in your drafted outline. “Is there anything else?” You consult him genuinely. You accept his criticisms with an open mind, which vexes him even more. 

“Nothing,” he grumbles.

“Alright. Let’s just revise it again once we see what’s on the farm.”

He doesn’t bother replying anymore since you’re once again right.

He puts on his headphones again to drown out whatever chatter you plan to have with him since you’re done discussing the project for now. Instead of bugging him, you take out a bunch of readings and focus on them intently, completely ignoring him. 

With nothing to entertain him aside from the music on his ears, his peripheral keeps going back to you and how hard you’re concentrating with the papers in your one hand and a pen in the other. 

He removes one muff of his headphone from his ear and asks you, “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

You really must be into what you’re studying because you flinch when he speaks, causing you to drop your pen. 

He feels responsible for it so he leans down to pick it up, but you also do the same. As you both reach down to grab your pen, your temple collides with his. 

“Ow,” your fingers go to massage the spot, failing to notice as he does that your faces are too close for comfort. He watches you wince for a quick while before looking at him, finally realizing that he’s within a proximity familiar to you both. 

It’s reminiscent of that night except this time, the natural light affirms that it wasn’t just the ambiance of the club that made you attractive enough to pull him in and share that heinous kiss. With your well-lit features, he can see that you’re thinking about the same thing he is.

Your eyes fall on his lips and for some illogical reason, he does the same.

Like last time, you’re the first to act on it. The major difference is, instead of leaning in, you retreat. You sit up straight with your fingers still on the side of your head and smile graciously at him. “It’s fine, Tsukishima. I’ll get it,” you say, which he finds half-witted because he’s still bent down and he can already grasp the pen.

He sits back up and hands you your pen. You use the hand on your temple to get it.

“Oh, thanks.” You stare at the pen for a second, then tuck it in your pocket. “Anyways, yeah. I don’t have problems reading in a moving vehicle.”

You dive back to his question and disregard what just happened. It works for him. He’d rather not think about it as well. 

“Have you not seen me scrambling paperwork on our bus rides to and from tournaments?”

“No.” He prefers not to pay attention to you. Hell, he pretends you don’t exist when he can. So naturally, he doesn’t know what it is you do when you’re not being your pestering self. It pains him to admit it, but you do get shit done -- efficiently, too. He should be glad because at least, you won’t be like his previous groupmates.

Still, just you being … you, ticks him off.

You laugh out of nowhere. “For someone who doesn’t speak much, you’re so fucking transparent.”

He frowns, not being able to grasp what you meant.

“Okay, look. I like pissing you off. I really do. And you, you don’t like me a lot. But for this project. Can we pretend that I’m not your annoying manager and you’re not the nasty Tsukishima I know?” 

“How the fuck can I do that when we see each other almost everyday as such?”

You roll your eyes and smirk. “Right. What was I even thinking? Go ahead and be emo with your music over there while I study here, yeah?” You pat him on the shoulders twice with that patronizing grin you always give him before pulling your pen back from your pocket and focusing once more on your readings, completely paying no attention to him for the rest of the trip.

—

As soon as you reach the crocodile farm, Tsukishima suggests that you two roam the area separately to cover more ground. In reality, he just wanted to get rid of you even for just a few minutes. He needed a break from you.

He does so by taking his time strolling around the place, observing how the area is situated. It looks like a park with its vast lush green environment and man-made waters to habituate the crocodiles. There are four main areas: the museum, the hatchling house, the zoo, and the breeding pens. He first goes to the museum, looking at the skeletal structure of some crocodiles. It isn’t really significant to the project but he can’t help admire it.

When he realizes that he’s taking longer than he initially thought, he starts looking for you. He sends you a text, but you don’t reply. You had gone to the zoo’s direction so he assumes you’re somewhere around that area. 

When he does find you, you’re not alone.

There you are near a crocodile pen, getting friendly with a guy he’s sure you just met.

It’s so familiar. The only difference is that you’re not wearing the Frogs’ jacket and you’re not in the Sendai gymnasium. He walks towards your direction, not caring if he’s going to cut off your little chat. You’re there for the project, not to snag some random bozo.

As he closes in behind you, he hears your conversation.

“Actually, birds are more closely related to dinosaurs than crocodiles. You couldn’t tell, right?” you explain with zeal. 

Tsukishima stops in his tracks at the foreign feeling in his chest. Wait a minute. Is he actually impressed? Moreover, what the heck is he impressed for? You should know that. You are both in a higher herpetology class. Even though it hasn’t been discussed during lectures, it’s natural that you know that. However, the guy you’re talking with isn't as enthusiastic. 

“Can’t blame you though. Crocs and dinos share the same sexy vibe with those chill eyes and scaly skin. Also, look at those smokin webbed feet. Fucking work of art, dude. You feel me?” you press on fanatically.

The stranger looks at you with a forced smile, obviously weirded out by your ‘passionate’ description of the reptile. “Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Bye,” the guy bows and storms away from you. 

You turn your attention back to the lowered pen in front of you with a satisfied smile and shudder when you see Tsukishima already there beside you. 

“Gah! You scared me. Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask with your hand still on your chest.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you creeping out that stranger.”

You tither at his answer. “Glad you didn’t. It was fun seeing him all freaked out.” 

He finds it weird. He thought you just had an aversion towards athletes. That’s why you keep driving away anyone who’d approach you during matches. Apparently, that’s not the case.

“He looked like he’d follow you back to Miyagi if you didn’t go all freaky nerdy on him.” 

You jeer at his comment. “He could follow me to the ends of the Earth and I still wouldn’t give him my number. I’d rather date Mr. Crocodylus siamensis over here than boring dum dums blinded by how hot I am.” 

“Then why do you entertain them?” he follows up.

“Caaaauuusse it’s fun to see them squirm,” you declare cheerfully as you veer your gaze at him. “Why the sudden interest with the way I handle men, Tsukishima?”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your lips tugging up to form a playful smirk. “Don’t tell me you suddenly find me interesting?”

You really do know how to push the right buttons to provoke him. He grits his teeth from your audacity.

“I’m joking for fuck’s sake! My god. I already know that even if it’s just the two of us on this planet, and we’d have to procreate to restart the world population, you’d rather choose to doom humanity than have anything to do with me.”

Among all the correct things that came out of your mouth, that was the only thing he could verbally agree with. “Good you know,” he retorts. 

You don’t seem to take offense though. You still keep your unwavering smile as you get your phone out and take a picture of the Borneo crocodile. 

“Should we go see the breeding pens now?” you ask nonchalantly, dismissing the previous conversation like it was nothing. 

--

You both decide to hire a designated tour guide to assist you while you observe the crocodiles, particularly the ones for breeding. 

“Hi, Ms. l/n. I’m Sara and I will be your guide for today,” she introduced herself with a dedicated smile.

“I’m so thrilled that you and your boyfriend decided to learn more about crocodiles for your date,” she adds. 

You and Tsukishima glance at each other before turning back to her. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend.”

You both say simultaneously, except yours sounded like a friendly correction while his sounded like a dead announcement. 

“We’re just classmates for a project,” you correct her.

She bows apologetically with embarrassment and worry. “I’m so sorry for assuming that.”

“No worries, Sara,” you reassure her before Tsukishima says something unnecessary. “Can you lead us on the breeding pens? We’d like to observe the whole thing.” 

“Of course. Right this way.”

Aside from the mishap earlier, you find Sara competent at her job as she fills you in with details not included in the sign boards in the pens. She gives you information about the mating process that you didn’t find when you researched about the subject. You assume Tsukishima’s thinking the same because he doesn’t say anything out of the blue.

“By any chance, will we see a pair mating today?” he asks after a while.

“I’m not really sure, Mr. Tsukishima. It’s really up to the animals.”

You tug on Tsukishima’s sleeve when you catch sight of one crocodile latching himself on top of another.

“What?” he asks irritatedly, but follows your line of sight. 

“Oh, lucky. There you go.” Sara announces with a pleasant smile.

You get your phone and your notes. You multitask listening to Sara, taking photos, and scribbling notes on your paper pad. 

On the other hand, Tsukishima multitasks observing the crocodiles in action and observing you. 

You’re asking important questions to the guide while juggling other tasks. Yes, he doesn’t like you and loathes being partnered with you. However, that doesn't mean he won’t cooperate with you. He won’t mind if you ask him for help, but you seem to have even forgotten that he’s there. 

He grabs your phone from your hand, garnering a confused look from you.

“I’ll take the photos. You take down notes.”

You flash him an honest, grateful smile. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

Then, you proceed with the things you’re doing more at ease. 

He can’t tell who he’s more pissed at, you or himself. Something about that display of productivity and wit unnerves him. It’s as if it’s telling him that his chagrin over you is unreasonable because you’re actually reliable when it counts. What’s worse is you’re completely oblivious to it. In fact, you’re almost ignoring him.

Goddamn it. What’s he doing? He’s completely distracted now from the project and is solely focused on you. He quickly shakes it off and calms himself down. His attention should be on the reptiles, not you.

He turns his attention back to the crocodiles, but the mating act only lasted a few minutes. After that, you both barrage Sara with an array of questions that she looked too overwhelmed by the end of your tour. 

You’ve covered almost everything for the day and it’s already around 6 in the evening when you get on a bus on the way back to Miyagi.

“That was fun!” you comment ardently with an abnormal shine on your face when you sit down on the bus on the way back. He wears his headphones on before you start a conversation he’s not willing to have. From his peripheral, he sees you turning to him and as he predicted, your mouth begins moving while you animatedly narrate words he could not hear. 

He’s already acting as if he can’t hear nor see you, but you still don’t stop. Knowing you, you will not stop until you make sure he notices you. He wearily removes his headphones only to see you not saying anything and only mouthing words with hand gestures. 

“Seriously?” He scowls at you. He’s already exhausted at having to deal with you even for just half a day, but you still have the energy to mess with him. 

You cover your mouth with your hand as you snicker but it erupts into a hoot of laughter shortly. You gasp ridiculously after you ride out your stupid amusement from poking at his patience. “Tsukki, I swear to God. You make the best faces,” you say while wiping away your joyous tears.

“Were you even going to say something worth listening to?” he questions sourly.

You study him then shake your head. “I think you’re tired, so let’s just discuss what we gathered next time. You can go ignore me now,” you tell him with an understanding smile despite the slight banter.

You tilt your body in his direction and hoist yourself up a bit to put his headphones back yourself like it’s no big deal.

You settle back into your seat while he stills on his seat, stunned with what you just did while you get your readings again and shrink to your own bubble. You don’t seem to make anything of it, so he doesn’t as well. It was very you to mindlessly get on anyone’s —  particularly his — personal space anyways.

He increases the volume of his headphones and tries to relax. Yet, his attention keeps swerving back at you every now and then. You’re really concentrating hard with your brows burrowed while you stare at your hand-outs. After a while, he notices you bobbing your head from the corners of his eyes.

He can tell you’re as tired as he is and trying hard to fight the sleep that’s taking over you. The bunch of papers you previously held are now clutched on your lap.

On the last bob of your head, you snap out of it. You blink repeatedly and return your eyes to your readings again. To no avail, you’re shutting down with your eyes fluttering when you try again. You look like you decided to give it a rest and put your papers back in your bag. You cross your arms and lean back to your seat. 

He feels relieved that you finally yield to your physical exhaustion. He doesn’t need an additional bullet point to his list of why he can’t fully hate you. Also, you won’t run your mouth at him if you’re asleep.

He feels the soft thump of your head on his shoulder. You probably did too as you suddenly bolt up and tell him ‘sorry' which he only understands based on how you mouthed the word. You lean back again and try to settle back to sleep. But when you start dozing off, you sway to the other side of your seat which is the aisle of the bus.

He grabs your shoulder to prevent you from tumbling down to the aisle. Your disoriented self looks around, alarmed at his sudden touch.

“Just fucking lean on me,” he spits out, irked that he has to say it out loud. It’s not like he pushed you away. You could’ve just stayed as you were and he would’ve turned a blind eye at it out of recognition of the effort you put in today. He’d just consider it one of those times that you do something annoying and he just ignores you as a response.

You regard him with dazed eyes. You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something but decide against it as you shut your eyes again and you let your head rest on his shoulder. But even then, your head still falls forward from time to time. He puts a hand on your forehead to settle you back on his shoulder and slides a bit downward on his seat to accommodate you. 

Jesus Christ, you can study in a moving vehicle but can’t even do a simple thing like sleep properly on it. Why does he even have to adjust for you?

He heaves furiously in contrast to your steady breathing, letting him know that you’re easing deeper to your sleep. 

He distracts himself by looking at the window, witnessing the unmoving dark sky and the changing scenery below. He lets out a sigh.

Maybe he should’ve just accepted the ten point deduction.

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged - pls check your settings?)

@ameliaxo @suikrem​​ @akaashisslave @tsumurai​​  @celestialarchiveshq​ @loving-unicorns106​ @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette​ @just4readingfics​ @suteorra​ @xxekitten69xx​ @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu

[bugmomwrites]

Animal Crossed Lovers (Tamaki Amajiki)

Alrighty so I haven't put any finished work on here in a hot minute, that’s my bad. ANYWHO my mom got me ACNH as an early birthday gift since my birthday (April 5th) just missed the supposed quarantine cutoff date for our area (7th). I may be be stuck inside while everything’s closed, but hey- at least the island of Escapism hardly rests 😉

(SW-3129-0651-5422)

Tamaki Amajiki x GN! Reader

Tamaki was never one to play video games, but he had to admit there was just something...soothing about Animal Crossing that melted much of his anxiety away. Nejire had initially preordered a copy for his birthday weeks ago, but her friend who worked at the local (s/n) (who he may or may not have been crushing on since their second year after they joined them at lunch one day) was able to pull a couple strings and get it on the fourth of March instead of the twentieth. Of course he had no idea, but he was so stunned when he opened it that it didn’t even occur to him that the game wasn’t even out yet until Mirio had reminded him. He didn’t question it though- his friend group was one wild card after another, so he guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised.

He was thrilled, and just the fact that no one else had a copy yet made it feel all the more personal. Of course he knew in sixteen days it would be all anybody ever talked about, but for the time being it felt like the game, the little world he had created in the past few days with its gentle music and soft, wholesome theme, was his and his alone. The fact that it was a gift from his friends made it all the more special, and even if he had a hectic day at school he could turn on the console and water pretend flowers on a pretend island, and for those few moments, all was right with the world.

He was pulling weeds to sell to Timmy for bells when his screen pinged in the corner that made his blood run cold.

(Gamertag) is online

Playing: Animal Crossing New Horizons

That’s right, you had friended him on the switch after realizing all his friends had one, and now with a fourth person they could have a full team online. Mirio has suggested everyone exchange codes, and you had taken the liberty of showing him how to punch in the code and adding yourself while he sat there trying not to melt into his seat at how excited you got, or how nice you smelled up close. You had passed it back with a beaming grin, telling him you couldn’t wait to do co-ops. At the time he could only nod, speechless as the rest of his friends made idle chatter until the bell rung, and everyone scurried back to class.

He quickly realized he had left the terminal gate open when he was poking around the various features, learning about what each thing does in game. He tried sprinting to the airport to close the gates, and he made it to the dock before a big green banner flashed across his screen reading “you have a visitor!”

Out of the threshold popped your avatar, and for a moment he was grateful he could hide behind a screen. He wanted to be mad, upset even, that you had wandered onto his digital sanctuary, but couldn’t find it in himself because, then again, it was you.

The Nookphone in the top left corner buzzed to life, and he opened up the chat log with shaky hands. In a cutesy, pastel speech bubble was your message, and he wondered how something that was once so therapeutic to him could do a 180 and suddenly become the source of his anxiety.

G/T: Hello! Sorry to pop in unannounced, I hope you don’t mind^^

Tamaki felt his mouth go dry, reading it in your voice and after steadying his breathing, he painstakingly typed out a response.

Suneater: its ok.

G/T: It’s kinda hard to find others to play with when the game isn’t even released yet >~<

Suneater: Oh?

He should have known it was too good to be true. You were only visiting him because no one else was on yet. He sighed, trying to keep the dread from crawling back in before another note popped up.

G/T: The game doesn’t actually release until the first day of spring, but working at (s/n) has its perks. I saw the trailers and the hype and figured it would be the perfect game for you.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him upon reading that. So he wasn’t the last choice- rather, the game simply wasn’t out to the general public yet. But if that was the case, how did you also get a copy?

Suneater: thats nice of you

G/T: And then a little birdy told me you had a birthday coming up, so since I have a couple connections after I got my copy, I asked my manager if they’d set aside one more.

Suneater: you

Suneater: you were the one who helped get it early?

Boy did he feel stupid now. You worked at (s/n), (as you had literally just mentioned in your previous notes), Nejire got him a game that wasn’t out yet, you guys were all mutual friends- how did he not put two and two together?!

G/T: Yes lol that would be me^ you liking it so far? You picked a good name for the island too.

“Sunshine Island” may have seemed a little cliche to most people, but Tamaki had so many things in his life linked to it that by this point, it was just routine. Mirio was his sun in dark times. His nickname Suneater, even the sunflowers he had received from his parents for his birthday each year was tradition. He knew not everyone would see it the way he did, but to him, it was perfect, and he was definitely chuffed when he thought it up and punched it in for the first time.

To hear you loved it too sent a swell of pride through him, and he wondered if it was possible to love someone as much as he did just then.

Suneater: you really think so?

G/T: Absolutely

And with that, the two of you explored Sunshine Island together, he showed you his tent, the shops, and the little orchard of peaches he had arranged. You were impressed by the amount of detail and care that went into arranging everything, and asked if he’d be willing to help you with your island sometime, to which he obliged. 

You guys did some more walking, and he told you to feel free to shake theres and take a couple fruits with you. His native fruit was peaches, and in exchange you dropped a couple of your own fruits from your island on the ground for him to pick up so he could have more variety in his world.

G/T: There’s six different kinds, and each island is assigned one main type of fruit. the more you visit with friends, the more biodiversity you’ll get. Pretty cool right? I have some spare (F/N), and if you take and plant those, they'll grow and multiply!

His avatar hesitantly wandered over to the offering after yours stepped back a little to let him take them. Your generousity was surely appreciated, and even though you couldn't see it, he smiled softly before typing out a new message.

Suneater: Thank you. I’ll go plant those.

The game might have been synced up with real time, even getting darker after a certain hour- yet despite it being outside, neither one of you noticed just how much time had passed between all the bug catching, fishing, exploring and talking. When your screen loaded up a clock that read 2:54 AM, you blinked a few times, as if that would change the reading. But lo and behold, it was going for 3am on a school night, and you knew you both had to get to bed.

G/T: Ah beans its 3am, I gotta get to bed soon. Thanks for letting me hang out on your island, and sorry for keeping you awake >~<

Suneater: don't be sorry, i had a lot of fun. can we play together again sometime?

G/T: Of course! I can't wait to meet up again. Maybe we can visit my island next time? I should have those peaches planted by then, and you can teach me your ways, oh master landscaper.

Tamaki chuckled out loud at that, blushing, as he suddenly had a brilliant idea.

Suneater: That would be nice. Wait here a second.

He scurried off to a patch of flowers he had blooming, and with a shovel, picked up a few in your favorite color before making his way back over and dropping them in front of you.

Suneater: You can start by planting a few of these around your island. It is your favorite color, right?

Now it was your turn to blush as you picked up the (f/c) flowers he dropped in front of you, smiling like a goon at his burst of confidence. How he remembered your favorite color is beyond you, but hey- you weren’t complaining.

G/T: They’re perfect, thank you Tama!

Suneater: You're welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow?

G/N: You know it! Goodnight <3

And on that note you walked down to the airport, his avatar following close behind as if to see you off. It was a simple gesture, but appreciated nonetheless. Both of you powered down your switches for the night before plugging them in, and promptly hopping into your respective beds with racing hearts. It was the perfect end to your digital “date” and you couldn’t wait to log in again.

Thank you for reading! Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The inbox is always open for future ideas, so don’t be afraid to drop in. 

Also gonna tag @katsukisprincess​ cause I mean...Animal Crossing and wholesome Tamaki fluff. ‘Nuff said.

[ongaku-ato-kakikomi]

Do you think you could do Monster Prom comforting their SO who is trying their best as a full time student? (I'm not sure if you take specific character requests but to make it less time consuming you could do only Damien unless you prefer to write the whole cast.) Thanks and I hope you have a good day/night!

(A/N): I do write for the characters individually! :3 I did all of the main ones here, though I wrote them as headcanons, so I hope it’s okay… (it’s less time consuming and I thought it would fit this request better). Anyway… hope you’ll like these!

Miranda Vanderbilt:

- She honestly doesn’t understand why you’re so stressed out; don’t you have serfs to do all your homework and studying for you?

- It takes you a little while to explain to her that, no, you don’t have any serfs to do your work and, no, you don’t want her serfs to do your work.

- It’s important to you that you succeed in your studies by yourself, even though you feel like crying and dropping everything from time to time.

- She still doesn’t quite get why you would put yourself through all that mental and exhausting pain, but she does understand that it’s important to you.

- Don’t expect her to help you with your studies: she’s a beautiful princess, so she will order her serfs to help you study while she enjoys other activities.

- She won’t necessarily notice that you might be stressing out until you start crying.

- When this happens, she might start blaming her serfs for it (execution-), but she will certainly wrap you up in her arms and whisper comforting things in your ear as she pats your back.

- She may or may not have suggested making her guards kill off your teachers at some point… and though the offer was very tempting, you told her no.

- She’s always ready to tell that order just in case you change your mind, and she might have threatened them into giving out less work so that you could ease up a bit.

- After all, you’re the love of her life; and she will do anything to make sure your happiness stays protected.

Damien Lavey:

- That boy barely manages to pass his classes, so he’s not really much of a help when it comes to studying.

- At least that’s what he believes, but he always tries his best to help you out nonetheless.

- You would make study notes for him to use to question you, but he rapidly gets confused and starts cussing at those overly complicated subjects.

- You often end up explaining your studying concepts to him, which more than often helps you learn the stuff.

- He gets annoyed pretty fast though, so you have to find other ways to study without his help.

- You don’t mind that much; it’s the thought that counts.

- If you ever get too stressed out or are about to hit the breaking point, he’s already there to help you out.

- He’s awkward when it comes to ‘saying sweet things’ and ‘comforting hugs’, but what he excels at are kick-ass hairstyles.

- It might seem a little random, but every time you feel his fingers go through your hair, your shoulders instantly relax and the loud thoughts shush down.

- It’s like getting a head massage from your boyfriend, and that’s pretty much what you need.

- He will force you to stop and watch a movie with you if he sees that you’re about to cry.

- You may need to study, but your happiness is much more important to him.

Scott Howl:

- Scott may not understand any of the subjects you have to study, but he’s the best boi when it comes to bringing a smile to your face.

- He will spend the entire day baking your favorite sweets and cooking you your favorite meals, wanting to make sure that you eat enough.

- If he somehow messes up a recipe, he will go out and come back with take-out and eat it with you in your room while you study.

- He will gladly ask you questions about your subjects: as long as you wrote them down with the answers beforehand.

- He’s not really much of any help though, because he often ends up telling you that you got the right answer (when you didn’t-) to make sure you stay happy.

- You get frustrated at him for a few moments then rapidly forgive him, kindly asking him to let you study in peace.

- If you ever get too stressed out, you can be sure that he will make you stop your studies for some well-earned cuddle time.

- He loves to hug you, so it’s honestly just an excuse for him to have you in his arms.

- He’s the best boi you could ever ask for, and he’s very happy to help you stay relaxed.

Liam de Lioncourt:

- You couldn’t think of a better person to help you out.

- Liam has been around for many centuries and knows about almost anything.

- He will gladly help you study; he doesn’t even need study cards, he remembers everything.

- If you need specific sources for an assignment, he will guide you through his own personal library to get what you need.

- He also knows about good websites to get great online articles, which he will happily provide to you.

- He will definitely create tests and exams to help you prepare for the real ones as much as you can, taking the time to explain to you why you got some of your answers wrong to make sure you understand.

- He’s so good at helping you get prepared, you hardly get stressed out about your exams and assignments.

- If you do start to panic about him, he will rapidly manage to calm you down.

- “We’ve studied and prepared you for this for weeks. I know you’re ready. You can do this.”

- If that doesn’t work; he makes you do breathing exercises and repeatedly reminds you that you’re doing great.

- Overall, he’s very proud of you, and he’s very happy to be able to help you out.

Polly Geist:

- Studying is completely boring to her, and she often tries to get you to stop studying so you can party with her.

- You often have to snap at her in order for her to let you work in peace, which she does for a few hours before she comes back whining and trying to get your attention.

- She knows that school is important to you, and it used to be important to her when she was alive, but not that she’s dead all she wants is for both of you to have fun.

- When snapping at her doesn’t work, you usually give out a sigh and accept to spend time with her, to which she responds quite happily.

- Those breaks might give you less time to work, but it definitely helps keep your stress level low.

- If you’re really struggling with a subject and are almost begging her to let you work, she will drop the ‘let’s party!’ act and settle down with you.

- She was at the top of her class back when she was alive and cared, so she picked up quite a few tricks to quickly learn and understand any subjects.

- She often blows your mind when she shares those with you, some sounding quite a little crazy, but you’re really thankful for her help. 

-  As soon as you’re both done, you can be sure that she’ll drag you out to get drunk; or at least watch a movie and cuddle if it’s the night right before your exams.

- She might get a little annoying sometimes, but you know she just wants the best for you, and you love her for that.

Vera Oberlin:

- Vera will only help you study if you really need to.

- She’s a smart woman who knows the importance of studying, but it’s not because she cares about her own grades that she loves doing it.

- So she only steps in when you’re either begging her or she sees that you’re on the verge of crying. 

- Her confidence and calmness rapidly help you ease down as she asks you questions about each subject you need to study for, even though you feel slightly ashamed when you don’t say the right answer.

- She often gives out groans of frustration when she has to explain something to you, but she does it nonetheless because she secretly wants you to succeed and be happy.

- If she sees that you need a little more time to get the hang of something; she won’t hesitate to make her minions kidnap your teacher to get you an extra week of studying.

- She always denies doing it, but you always thank her for it.

- She will most definitely find a way to steal the answer sheets for your exams, then make you learn the specific parts you need to know to increase your success.

- You never know that she does this, and she never tells you the specific answers either, but she’s very glad to see your grades increase ever since she started doing it.

- Let’s just say she’ll do anything to help you crush the others in your classes; she’ll just never tell you how much she cares about this.

[busghost]

Fu Hua’s very long lore

She’s more than 50,000 years old, what did you expect?

Also I cried rereading the manga for this so you better appreciate it.

VERY LONG POST

Sources

https://manga.honkaiimpact3.com/book/1018/3

Fu Hua origin story

https://manga.honkaiimpact3.com/book/1012/1

Story to make you cry, please read it. It’s so good.

https://manga.honkaiimpact3.com/book/1020

Fu Hua makes a school.

https://manga.honkaiimpact3.com/book/1011

Fu Hua kicking Schicksal’s collective ass.

https://manga.honkaiimpact3.com/book/1005

The Second Eruption Manga because it’s connected to literally everything in the story. No I’m not exaggerating. Please read it, it’s so good.

https://manga.honkaiimpact3.com/book/1010

Fu Hua the secret agent.

I will be spoiling parts of all of the above.

Previous Era of Civilization

Fu Hua’s story starts 50,000 years ago in her home city of Sapphire, a Honkai eruption had occurred and she had hidden from the beasts and was one of the few survivors. She was found by Himeko, the leader of Squadron V in MOTH, and she offered to teach Fu Hua how to fight the Honkai. A year later Himeko was corrupted by the Honkai and became the 7th Herrscher, the Herrscher of Flame and was killed by Kevin Kaslana. Fu Hua was the only survivor of Squadron V after their leader became a Herrscher and was mistrusted by other members of MOTH, calling her the “Firewytch’s Little Bird”, because she and Himeko were close.

Later Fu Hua was assigned with a group of other MOTH soldiers to take back a mine in Australia. They were going to be given 10th Divine Key weapons as they had begun being mass produced, and told that it was a field trial for the Divine Keys. They were given an injection before the mission and sent off.

(note: there are multiple 10th Divine Keys because the 10th Herrscher took over many bodies, thus there are multiple Herrscher cores to weapons)

When they arrived they had no problems killing smaller Honkai beasts but then the massive Emperor class Honkai beast Gensha appeared and killed everyone, the Divine Keys being wielded by regular humans had no effect on such a strong Honkai beast.

When Fu Hua confronted Ganesha her Divine Key shattered and she was thrown against a building but unlike the other soldiers the metamorph ICHOR which they had injected into the soldiers before the mission took hold and Fu Hua became a MANTIS soldier, adding Honkai genes to her human DNA. Her shattered 10th Divine Key also changed form from a Xuanyuan Sword to the Grips of Taixuan.

DR. MEI also gave Fu Hua the 8th Divine Key, Fenghuang Down; it creates illusions/ dreams that Fu Hua can trap her targets in. She is also seen using it to power up normal attacks, or perform attacks that are impossible, such as cutting out a man’s tongue when she’s tied up and he tries to assault her. She also put herself/a copy of herself in somebody else’s mind using Fenghuang Down.

After this we know she fought the Honkai as a MANTIS like Kevin Kaslana, the previous era Sakura or Su did. She also took part in the final battle against the  14th Herrscher, the Herrscher of the End, on the Moon. After the previous era’s final defeat at the hands of the Herrscher of the End, Fu Hua and the remaining Humans went underground and into cryostasis to wait for the 4th Divine Key to heal the damage Honkai had done to the Earth.

Current Era of Civilization

Sometime around when human civilization reappeared was when the survivors from the Previous Era reemerged from cryostasis. When exactly isn’t shown but we are shown panels in the manga of Su and Kevin in Ancient Egypt and Rome/Greece.

Fu Hua, Fuxi, and Nuwa are in charge of aiding human civilization around China and they’ve set up base in Shenzhou. They were in charge of Project EMBER, a project meant to speed up the development of human civilization. Fuxi and Nuwa were also entrusted with a 10th Divine Key and tasked with giving it to a person of this era who could wield it, they picked a young woman with a stigmata Ji Xuanyuan. Fuxi and Nuwa also created the Phoenix image for Fu Hua to have to make her a legend

Fuxi and Nuwa weren’t MANTIS soldiers unlike Fu Hua so they would age and die. They didn’t want Fu Hua to become lonely when they were gone so they make the ELF Book of Fuxi to keep her company.

Unfortuntely because the Honkai grows with civilization Project EMBER sped up the growth of the Honkai and gave birth to the Judgement class Honkai beast Chiyou. Nuwa and Fuxi died to stop it and Ji Xuanyuan was trapped inside the beast. Project EMBER was cancelled and Fu Hua became the Immortal Celestial, Phoenix, Protector of Shenzhou to protect China because that’s what she promised she’d do.

Fu Hua also starts a school to teach people how to combat the Honkai. It was Book of Fuxi’s final request.

In the late 1400s Schicksal has solidified its control over Europe and wants more, so they decide to head east. Schicksal and the Ming Empire fight in the Eurasian steppe from 1470-1475 but then Fu Hua shows up and defeats Schicksal’s army single-handed. She also defeats Kallen Kaslana in single combat and call her out for using the Oath of Judah against humans.

Now we get to the visual novel. It’s not translated but I’ll give a brief summary of what I know from hearsay. Fu Hua is betrayed by her students and killed in an extremely gory description that includes organs outside of the body and exposed brains. Luckily a few cells are left alive, so she can heal back from that, due to being a MANTIS soldier. She sets out looking for answers as to why she was betrayed. She also meets Otto Apocalypse, who is wandering the world after Kallen’s death. I don’t know what happens beyond that.

Mihoyo please translate your shit.

Anyway, Fu Hua continues protecting civilization in Shenzhou. She also adopts and trains Cheng Lixue sometime in the 1990s but then also abandons her.

the Second Honkai War

(again seriously, read the Second Eruption Manga)

The Second Honkai War is where we see how terrifyingly powerful Fu Hua is.

When Otto mobilizes all of Schicksal to defeat Sirin, because she had gained 6 Herrscher cores and the situation had gotten really out of hand. He also calls upon his old friend Fu Hua, because Sirin has the Gem of Serenity, the core of the Herrscher of Death and Otto believes he needs the Herrscher of Death to revive Kallen.

Otto, Cheng Lixue, and Fu Hua personally confront Sirin on top of Babylon labs where they confront the Herrscher of the Void directly. Fu Hua immediately traps her in a dream world and fights her in the dream world and kills her there, making her think she’s dead. Then Otto fucks everything up by letting Sirin get in touch with God and she free’s Sirin from Fu Hua’s dream, so Fu Hua creates an attack so powerful Sirin that God has to shield her from the blow. Sirin had to be saved by deus ex machina.

Luckily Fu Hua’s punch did sever Sirin’s connection to God. Unfortunately, she burnt up so much of the 8th Divine Key she lost her memories. Sirin also left the dream world with control over some of the powers of the 8th Divine Key.

When she exits the dream world she doesn’t remember who Cheng Lixue is and Cheng Lixue sacrifices herself to let Otto escape with the unconscious Fu Hua. 

By the time the 2nd Honkai War is over, Fu Hua wakes up and runs away from Schicksal but she has nowhere else to go. She has lost a great deal of her power and is dying as well, so she has to rely on Schicksal to defend Shenzhou because her promise to do so is all she really remembers. She basically has to become Otto’s personal lackey in order to ensure her home’s safety.

In 2014, Kiana and the gang are at St. Freya and Fu Hua takes Kiana on a mission with her under the guise of it being easy. A Schicksal scientist has defected and taken the Gem of Serenity with him to neutral Singapore to escape to Anti-Entropy territory. Fu Hua has to get it back. Fu Hua kills a pervy clone of the 1st Herrscher and Kiana gets to the Gem first. Kiana is possessed by the Herrscher of the Void because the the Gem of Serenity was returned to her. (Kiana is Sirin, want that explained? Ask me or go read the 2nd Eruption Manga). Fu Hua beats her up and gets the Gem back, saving Kiana. The whole purpose of Fu Hua’s mission was actually to make sure that the Herrscher could get the Gem of Serenity.

Stuff That Happens in Game (spoilers for Chapter 4 onwards until the end of the post)

After Chapter 4 in the game Fu Hua uses the 8th Divine Key to go into Bronya’s mind to help her put her mind back together after Bronya destroys the chip in her brain to stop Cocolia from being able to mind control her.

Chapters 5 and 6 are both illusions created by the Herrscher of the Void using the small part 8th Divine Key she stole from Fu Hua in the Second Honkai War. When the Herrscher of the Void begins to awaken within Kiana at the end of Chapter 6, Fu Hua kidnaps Kiana takes her Schicksal HQ. Fu Hua fights for Otto in the beginning and captures Himeko. She uses the 8th Divine Key to heal Himeko after their fight then goes to save her friends, then Otto kills her for betraying him.

BUT all those people she’s used the 8th Divine Key on still have a copy of her in their heads. So Himeko is guided around Schicksal HQ by Fu Hua and given the means to save Kiana from the Herrscher of the Void. Bronya is saved from Grey Serpent by the Fu Hua in her head. Kiana has the Fu Hua in her head throughout ARC City until Fu Hua fights Kevin to let Kiana escape. And now Kevin has that Fu Hua as a feather.

Where does that leave us now?

At least one copy of Fu Hua still exists in feather form. Kevin says he’ll wake her up when it’s all over, in reference to defeating the Honkai.

The Fu Hua in Bronya’s head doesn’t seem to be explicitly gone.

If you’re in the “Himeko’s not dead” crowd then she’d still be there but,, Himeko.

And if it’s possible for her body to come back from near-death again then that’s a possibility but she was extremely weak when she died compared to when she healed the last time.

Anyway, Phoenix is the Hottest Thing There Is.

[morwensteelsheen]

I’m starting grad school this autumn and honestly I’m getting nervous. Like yes I am v excited about the whole prospect overall and I do miss being a student but am intimidated by 3 hr long seminars and thesis writing and massive amounts of reading… everyone keeps saying it’s gonna be very different from undergrad so okay, but how specifically? Is it the large amounts of reading? I already had insane amounts of reading (humanities degree hurrah) especially in my last two years but could you expound on your own experience and how you take notes/read quickly/summarize or just how to deal with first time grad students?

Oh, yeah for sure! A necessary disclaimer here is that I'm at a certain poncy English institution that is noted for being very bad at communicating with its students and very bad at treating its postgrad students like human beings, so a lot of these strategies I've picked up will be overkill for anyone who has the good sense to go somewhere not profoundly evil lol.

So I'll just preface this by saying that I am a very poor student in terms of doing what you're supposed to. I'm very bad at taking notes, I never learned how to do it properly, and I really, really struggle with reading dense literature. That said, I'm probably (hopefully?) going to get through this dumb degree just fine. Also — my programme is a research MPhil, not taught, so it's a teensy bit more airy-fairy in terms of structure. I had two classes in Michaelmas term, both were once a week for two hours each; two in Lent, one was two hours weekly, the other two hours biweekly; and no classes at all in Easter. I also have no exam component, I was/am assessed entirely on three essays (accounting for 30% of my overall mark) and my dissertation (the remaining 70%), which is, I think, a little different to how some other programmes are. I think even some of the other MPhils here are more strenuous than that, like Econ and Soc Hist is like 100% dissertation? Anyways, not super important, but knowing what you're getting marked on is important. I dedicated considerably less time than I did in undergrad to perfecting my coursework essays because they just don't hold as much weight now. The difference between a 68 and a 70 just wasn't worth the fuss for me, which helped keep me sane-ish.

The best advice anyone ever gave me was that, whereas an undergrad degree can kind of take over your life without it becoming a problem, you need to treat grad school like a job. That's not because it's more 'serious' or whatever, but because if you don't set a really strict schedule and keep to it, you'll burn yourself out and generally make your life miserable. Before I went back on my ADD meds at the end of Michaelmas term, I sat myself down at my desk and worked from 11sh to 1800ish every day. Now that I'm medicated, I do like 9:30-10ish to 1800-1900 (except for now that I'm crunching on my diss, where, because of my piss-poor time management skills I'm stuck doing, like, 9:30-22:30-23:00). If you do M-F 9-5, you'll be getting through an enormous amount of work and leaving yourself loads of time to still be a human being on the edges. That'll be the difference between becoming a postgrad zombie and a person who did postgrad. I am a postgrad zombie. You do not want to be like me.

The 'work' element of your days can really vary. It's not like I was actually consistently reading for all that time — my brain would have literally melted right out of my ears — but it was about setting the routine and the expectation of dedicating a certain, consistent and routinized period of time for focusing on the degree work every day. My attention span, even when I'm medicated, is garbage, so I would usually read for two or three hours, then either work on the more practical elements of essay planning, answer emails, or plot out the early stages of my research.

In the first term/semester/whatever, lots of people who are planning on going right into a PhD take the time to set up their applications and proposals. I fully intended on doing a PhD right after the MPhil, but the funding as an international student trying to deal with the pandemic proved super problematic, and I realised that the toll it was taking on my mental health was just so not worth it, so I've chosen to postpone a few years. You'll feel a big ol' amount of pressure to go into a PhD during your first time. Unless you're super committed to doing it, just try and tune it out as much as you can. There's absolutely nothing wrong with taking a year (or two, or three, or ten) out, especially given the insane conditions we're all operating under right now.

I'll be honest with you, I was a phenomenally lazy undergrad. It was only by the grace of god and being a hard-headed Marxist that I managed to pull out a first at the eleventh hour. So the difference between UG and PG has been quite stark for me. I've actually had to do the reading this year, not just because they're more specialised and relevant to my research or whatever, but because, unlike in UG, the people in the programme are here because they're genuinely interested (and not because it's an economic necessity) and they don't want to waste their time listening to people who haven't done the reading.

I am also a really bad reader. Maybe it's partially the ADD + dyslexia, but mostly it's because I just haven't practiced it and never put in the requisite effort to learn how to do it properly. My two big pointers here are learning how to skim, and learning how to prioritise your reading.

This OpenU primer on skimming is a bit condescending in its simplicity, but it gets the point across well. You're going to want to skim oh, say, 90% of the reading you're assigned. This is not me encouraging you to be lazy, it's me being honest. Not every word of every published article or book is worth reading. The vast majority of them aren't. That doesn't mean the things that those texts are arguing for aren't worth reading, it just means that every stupid rhetorical flourish included by bored academics hoping for job security and/or funding and/or awards isn't worth your precious and scarce time. Make sure you get the main thrust of each text, make sure you pull out and note down one or two case studies and move right the hell on. There will be some authors whose writing will be excellent, and who you will want to read all of. Everything else gets skimmed.

Prioritisation is the other big thing. You're going to have shitty weeks, you're probably going to have lots of them. First off, you're going to need to forgive yourself for those now — everybody has them, yes, even the people who graduated with distinctions and go on to get lovely £100,000 AHRC scholarships. Acknowledge that there will be horrible weeks, accept it now, and then strategise for how to get ahead of them. My personal strategy is to plan out what I'm trying to get out of each course I take, and then focus only on the readings that relate to that topic.

I took a course in Lent term that dealt with race and empire in Britain between 1607 and 1900; I'm a researcher of the Scottish far left from 1968-present, so the overlap wasn't significant. But I decided from the very first day of the course that I was there to get a better grasp about the racial theories of capitalism and the role of racial othering in Britain's subjugation of Ireland. Those things are helpful to me because white supremacist capitalism comes up hourly in my work on the far left, and because the relationship of the Scottish far left to Ireland is extremely important to its self definition. On weeks when I couldn't handle anything else, I just read the texts related to that. And it was fine, I did fine, I got my stupid 2:1 on the final essay, and I came out of it not too burnt out to work on my dissertation.

Here is where I encourage you to learn from my mistakes: get yourself a decent group of people who you can have in depth conversations about the material with. I was an asshole who decided I didn't need to do that with any posh C*mbr*dge twats, and I have now condemned myself to babbling incomprehensible nonsense at my partner because I don't have anyone on my course to work through my ideas with. These degrees are best experienced when they're experienced socially. In recent years (accelerated by the pandemic, ofc), universities have de-emphasised the social component of postgrad work, largely to do with stupid, long-winded stuff related to postgrad union organising etc. It's a real shame because postgrads end up feeling quite socially isolated, and because they're not having these fun and challenging conversations, their work actually suffers in the long term. This is, and I cannot stress this enough, the biggest departure from undergrad. Even the 'weak links' or whatever judgemental nonsense are there because they want to be. That is going to be your biggest asset. Talk, talk, talk. Listen, listen, listen. Offer to proofread people's papers so you get a sense of how people are thinking about things, what sort of style they're writing in, what sources they're referring to. Be a sponge and a copycat (but don't get done for plagiarism, copy like this.) Also: ask questions that seem dumb. For each of your classes, ask your tutors/lecturers who they think the most important names in their discipline are. It sounds silly, but it's really helpful to know the intellectual landscape you're dealing with, and it means you know whose work you can go running to if you get lost or tangled up during essay or dissertation writing!

You should also be really honest about everything — another piece of advice that I didn't follow and am now suffering for. The people on your courses and in your cohort are there for the same reasons as you, have more or less the same qualifications as you, and are probably going to have a lot of the same questions and insecurities as you. If you hear an unfamiliar term being used in a seminar, just speak up and ask about it, because there're going to be loads of other people wondering too. But you should also cultivate quite a transparent relationship with your supervisor. I was really cagey and guarded with mine because my hella imposter syndrome told me she was gonna throw my ass out of the programme if I admitted to my problems. Turns out no, she wouldn't, and that actually she's been a super good advocate for me. If you feel your motivation slipping or if you feel like you're facing challenges you could do with a little extra support on, go right to your supervisor. Not only is that what they're there to do, they've also done this exact experience before and are going to be way more sympathetic and aware of the realities of it than, say, the uni counselling service or whatever.

Yeah so I gotta circle back to the notes thing... I really do not take notes. It's my worst habit. Here's an example of the notes I took for my most recent meeting with my supervisor (revising a chapter draft).

No sane person would ever look at these and think this is a system worth replicating lol. But the reason they work for me is because I also record (with permission) absolutely everything. My mobile is like 90% audio recordings of meetings and seminars lol. So these notes aren't 'good' notes, but they're effective for recalling major points in the audio recording so I can listen to what was said when I need to.

Sorry none of this is remotely organised because it's like 2330 here and my brain is so soft and mushy. I'm literally just writing things as I remember them.

Right, so: theory is a big thing. Lots of people cheap out on this and it's to their own detriment. You say you're doing humanities, and tbh, most of the theory involved on the humanities side of the bridge is interdisciplinary anyways, so I'm just gonna give you some recommendations. The big thing is to read these things and try to apply them to what you're writing about. This sounds so fucking condescending but getting, like, one or two good theoretical frameworks in your papers will actually put you leaps and bounds beyond the students around you and really improve your research when the time comes. Also: don't read any of these recommendations without first watching, like an intro youtube video or listening to a podcast. The purists will tell you that's the wrong way to do it, but I am a lazy person and lazy people always find the efficient ways to do things, so I will tell the purists to go right to hell.

Check out these impenetrable motherfuckers (just one or two will take your work from great to excellent, so don't feel obliged to dig into them all):

Karl Marx and Fredrich Engels (I'm not just pushing my politics, but also, I totally am) — don't fucking read Capital unless you're committed to it. Oh my god don't put yourself through that unless you really have to. Try, like, the 18th Brumaire of Louis Napoleon for the fun quotes, and Engels on the family.

Frantz Fanon — Wretched of the Earth. Black Skin White Masks also good, slightly more impossible to read

Benedict Anderson — Imagined Communities. It's about nationalism, but you will be surprised at how applicable it is to... so many other topics

Judith Butler — she really sucks to read. I love her. But she sucks to read. If you do manage to read her though, your profs will love you because like 90% of the people who say they've read her are lying

Bourdieu — Distinction is good for a lot of things, but especially for introducing the idea of social and cultural capital. There's basically no humanities sub-discipline that can't run for miles on that alone.

Crenshaw — the genesis of intersectionality. But, like, actually read her, not the ingrates who came after her and defanged intersectionality into, like, rainbow bombs dropped over Gaza.

The other thing is that you should read for fun. My programme director was absolutely insistent that we all continue to read for pleasure while we did this degree, not just because it's good for destressing, but because keeping your cultural horizons open actually makes your writing better and more interesting. I literally read LOTR for the first time in, like February, and the difference in my writing and thinking from before and after is tangible, because not only did it give me something fun to think about when I was getting stressy, but it also opened up lots of fun avenues for thought that weren't there before. I read LOTR and wanted to find out more about English Catholics in WWI, and lo and behold something I read about it totally changed how I did my dissertation work. Or, like, a girl on my course who read the Odyssey over Christmas Break and then started asking loads of questions about the role of narrative creation in the archival material she was using. It was seriously such a good edict from our director.

Also, oh my god, if you do nothing else, please take this bit seriously: forgive yourself for the bad days. The pressure in postgrad is fucking unreal. Nobody, nobody is operating at 100% 100% of the time. If you aim for 60% for 80% of the time and only actually achieve 40% for 60% of the time, you will still be doing really fucking well. Don't beat yourself up unnecessarily. Don't make yourself feel bad because you're not churning out publishable material every single day. Some days you just need to lie on the couch, order takeout, and watch 12 hours of Jeopardy or whatever, and I promise you that that is a good and worthwhile thing to do. You don't learn and grow without rest, so forgive yourself for the moments and days of unplanned rest, and forgive yourself for when you don't score as highly as you want to, and forgive yourself when you say stupid things in class or don't do all of (or any of) the class reading.

Uhhhh I think I'm starting to lose the plot a bit now. Honestly, just ping me whatever questions you have and I'm happy to answer them. There's a chance I'll be slower to respond over the next few days because my dissertation is due in a week (holy fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) but I will definitely respond. And honestly, no question is too dumb lol. I wish I'd been able to ask someone about things like what citation management software is best or how to set up a desk for maximum efficiency or whatever, but I was a scaredy-cat about it and didn't. So yeah, ask away and I will totally answer.

[darkblueboxs]

If you're taking requests, maybe the foxes reacting to soft andreil? I love seeing their relationship through outside perspectives

Sorry for the delay! I ended up with two very different ideas for this and wrote both of them. I’ll be posting the other one in the next week or so! [EDIT: Here it is!]This was great fun to write. Thank you for the request. <3

In the Eye of the Beholder

Read here or on AO3

.

#1 Dan

Dan raps her knuckles against the door to the monster’s flat and waits. Nicky greets her with an impressive mop of bedhair and a baffled expression which smooths over only when Neil darts past, citing brunch with Dan as his excuse for being awake at such a thoroughly reasonable hour on a Sunday morning. He’s in high spirits, from what Dan can tell, rolling on the balls of his feet as they wait for the elevator to arrive. Dan is ready to put it down to excitement over their plans – she has a stack of potential recruits under her arm thicker than Les Misérables for them to discuss, hopefully with a stack of pancakes of equal height on the side. Then she spots the light bruise peeking over the hem of Neil’s collar, and draws a very different conclusion about the source of Neil’s good mood.

She smiles as they step into the elevator, but keeps the observation to herself. While some members of the team love to badger Neil for the slightest insight into his relationship, Dan is willing to push her curiosity aside for the sake of Neil’s privacy. He has plenty other teammates to pester him without her jumping on the bandwagon.

Just before the doors slide shut, an arm bursts through the gap, forcing them open. Andrew is as stoic and terrifying as ever (not that Dan would ever admit it) even while wearing Neil’s foxprint-patterned pyjama bottoms. The quickened rise and fall of his chest is the only hint that he ran to get here.

Neil raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his underdressed partner.

Andrew lobs something at Neil which bounces off his chest and lands on the floor between his feet. Neil stoops to scoop it up, and Dan sees that it’s his wallet.

“Thanks.”

“Idiot,” Andrew huffs. He retracts his arm, and the doors slide shut on the sight of him stalking back to their dorm.

Neil taps the wallet against his hand a couple times before sliding it into the wallet.

“You’re both idiots if you think I’m letting you pay for brunch,” Dan says wryly.

Neil shakes his head. “I said I was going to pick up some stuff at the store afterwards. But thanks. Brunch is on me, though.”

“We’ll see,” Dan says, which means no. “Okay, I’ll admit it. That was sweet of him.”

The corner of Neil’s mouth twitches. “Nah. He’s just making sure I come back with the junk food I promised him.”

“Sure.” And, oh, Dan had been trying to be good, but she really can’t help herself any longer. “So, did you guys mean to give each other matching hickeys, or was that just a fun little accident?”

Neil slaps his hand to his neck and groans.

All in all, it’s a great morning.

 #2 Kevin

Aaron’s trial is coming up. Kevin wouldn’t care (well, he would, but for different reasons) except that it’s making the cousins snippy and fractious. More so than usual. Andrew isn’t sleeping properly, although he would deny that it had any relation to the trial. Unfortunately, his insomnia is contagious, which ends with Neil losing focus at their night practice, having spent the best part of a week running on fumes and gatorade.

Kevin has been patient – patient by his standards, anyway – but the third fumbled catch in a row snaps his temper like brittle bone.

“Get the fuck off my court, Josten.” Kevin says, smacking the base of his racquet against the floor.

“Fuck you,” Neil answers reflexively. He stops to push his lengthening bangs back from his face.

“I’m not joking. You’re in no state to play. Get the fuck out.” Kevin wishes Neil would take it as the blessing it is, a night to re-focus and re-calibrate, but instead he’s glaring Kevin down like he just asked him to eat sewage.

Neil turns away from him to send another ball barrelling towards the goal. It misses by an entire foot.

“Neil,” Kevin says sharply, readying for a fight that neither of them have the energy nor patience for.

Before he can begin, the doors to the court bang open. Andrew stands in the entrance, arms crossed. It’s the expression that ends an argument before it’s had time to start; Kevin knows it far, far too well.

Andrew leads Neil away to the showers while Kevin continues his drills.

When he’s finished washing up, he finds the pair in the team lounge, collapsed on the wider of the couches. Neil is asleep, slumped into Andrew’s side. Andrew looks up as Kevin enters, but he doesn’t move his hand from its resting place in Neil’s hair. Although Neil was the only one of the pair training that night, Andrew’s hair is plastered against his head as though he, too, is fresh out of the shower. Kevin tries not to consider the implications.

They wait in silence for a few minutes, watching as Neil sleeps, properly sleeps, for the first time in far too long. Neither are willing to disturb him, but the night is late and Kevin has a whole host of classes waiting for him in the morning.

“I’ll walk back,” says Kevin. Andrew meets his gaze for a long moment before nodding briefly. The bags under his eyes betray him.

Kevin darts back into the lockers to pick up Neil’s abandoned kit bag. When he passes them again, Andrew has slouched onto his side, having manoeuvred Neil in front of him so they can both lie comfortably. His arm is slung protectively around Neil’s waist like Andrew is prepared to beat off the world to keep him there.

Kevin knows they spend more nights in each other’s bunks than out of them in the dorm, but somehow they’re always up and away before anyone else is awake enough to give them any hassle over it. Kevin doesn’t care, but Nicky can be overbearing at the best of times, and Aaron is… well, Aaron. But here, in the privacy of an empty stadium, it looks like Neil has finally found enough security to drop off at last, and Andrew looks ready to follow. Kevin shuts the door behind him, not quite smiling, but close. It was strange to some, the idea of Neil and Andrew, but anyone who saw them curled up together would see it plain as day. They just fitted.

The next day, Neil is closer to being himself again, and no more is said on the matter.

 #4 Matt

Matt has to admit that press duty with Neil is never boring. The interviewers seem to share his opinion, visibly perking up when Neil follows Matt into the room. They lost to the Bearcats, but it was close enough that Matt doesn’t have to lie when he says that he’s proud of the team’s performance today.

“Some are saying that the failure of the defence line in later stages was due to Minyard’s performance in goal in the second half. How would you respond to that?

Matt doesn’t know why he bothers opening his mouth; the question may be directed to him, but he knows damn well that a boulder in the shape of Neil’s fury is already barrelling in this hapless reporter’s direction. “Well-”

“Last time I checked, this was a team sport,” Neil says loudly. “Was I hallucinating that, or has there been a few rule changes since yesterday?”

Matt isn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. Coach had told Matt to keep an eye on their resident fire-starter as though anyone was at all capable of controlling Neil when there was a mic in front of him. Matt feels sorry for the poor sucker that will one day be assigned to the role of Neil’s publicist, because he’s sure that Neil will drive them into an early grave alongside Matt’s.

“You have to admit that the number of goals that he let in-”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that his entire defence line had already played two full quarters before he even stepped foot on court. People get tired the longer a game goes on, of course defence is going to suffer in the second half. But sure, keep pinning it on the goalie you clearly have it in for.”

Matt claps a hand on Neil’s back. “What he said,” he agrees, staring down the reporter.

They take no further questions.

Matt doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he leaves the showers to see Andrew and Neil alone in the locker room he ducks back out of sight. He walks into at least one dramatic confrontation amongst his teammates per week, and sometimes the best way to deal with the daily bouts of fox drama is to hide and wait for the storm to pass.

“Point me to where I asked you to lead my own personal crusade.” Andrew’s flat tones echo off the tiled floor. Matt regrets leaving his Ipod in his bag. The conversation doesn’t seem too personal to overhear, but Andrew and Neil have never been the easiest reads.

“I’m tired of them talking shit about you just because they have a vendetta against anyone with your…” Neil trails off. Matt imagines him to be making several expressive hand gestures; it’s hard to condense all of Andrew’s history and circumstances into one word. “…everything,” Neil settles on.

“Your principles should not intersect with my business.”

“Even if it could affect your future career?” Neil’s words are met, unsurprisingly, with silence. “Besides, yours do.”

“Explain.”

“When I first came here, you told Nicky to back off. Not out of concern for me. Because of your principles.”

This time, the silence stretches so long that Matt doesn’t think Andrew is going to answer.

“Point,” Andrew concedes.

“Besides, is it so bad that I’m standing up for you?”

“Only when it’s making new enemies for you. How many does one man need?”

“I’ve got room for a few more,” Neil says. There’s a rustle of movement, and, oh, are they kissing? Matt strongly suspects that they are kissing. It’s more than his life is worth to look. He takes a few steps back, rattles his kit loudly and makes as much noise as possible before entering the locker room. The pair are a safe distance apart by the time he enters, and Matt gives them a probably-not-convincingly-casual nod before busying himself with his change of clothes.

The pair spend the journey home holed up together at the back of the bus, and if he suspects that they’re doing a little more than talking, Matt keeps it to himself.

They’ve earned a little privacy, after all.

 #5 Aaron

“Well, maybe if you stopped and took the time to, I don’t know, explain literally anything that you do, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.”

“Aaron,” says Bee, a gentle reprimand. He isn’t in the mood to hear it. His attention remains on his brother, who’s features remain the same stony, impassive blank that they have in almost every joint session to date. It’s an expression that makes Aaron want to tear his hair out, or kick his brother’s face in, or both.

“What would you like me to explain?” says Andrew, more of a challenge than an offer. Aaron snorts, because, where to fucking begin?

“How about we start with your little fuck-buddy, seeing as you’re so keen to start on mine.” Earlier that week, Andrew had returned early from a class to find Aaron and Katelyn together in their dorm room. The result, while not outright violent, had been deeply unpleasant for all involved. And of course, Andrew was being an ass about it.

“Aaron. We’ve talked about this. How can you expect Andrew to talk about Katelyn respectfully if you won’t offer the same respect to his own partner?”

Aaron scoffs. “It’s not the same.”

Andrew’s eyebrow… it doesn’t quirk, but it twitches. “Oh?”

Aaron gestures vaguely. “You know what I mean.”

“I can assure you that I don’t.”

“Me and Katelyn. You and Neil. It isn’t the same.”

“How so?” Andrew’s tone isn’t in the danger zone yet, but it’s edging towards it.

“I’m not talking about the gay thing. I’m talking about…” The hand Aaron was waving clenches into a fist as he drops it into his lap. “Don’t make me say it.”

Andrew and Bee share a look over his head.

“Aaron,” says Bee.

“I just, fucking…” Aaron grapples with words, struggling to find a combination that won’t rip them apart any worse than they already have been. “How the fuck can you expect me to believe that you and him… that you’re real. That you’re normal, that you’re like us, after everything those fuckers did to you. What makes him so different?”

Andrew watches him. Just when Aaron resigns himself to the fact that no answer is coming, Andrew speaks. “If I ask him to stop, he stops.”

Aaron bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he thinks he might have drawn blood. “It can’t be that simple.”

Andrew shrugs.

“How?”

Andrew’s eyes flicker upwards, like he would rather be anywhere else, having any other conversation in the world than this one. “We have a system. We don’t touch each other without asking first. We listen to each other. We talk. What more do you need me to say?”

Aaron falls silent. He doesn’t know what he needs from his brother, still, but it’s something.

“I have a question in return,” Andrew’s eyes flick to Bee. He isn’t looking for permission, but she nods in encouragement nonetheless. “Katelyn. What makes her so different?” Andrew meets his gaze dead-on as he turns Aaron’s own words back on him. “How can you trust her, after everything that bitch Tilda did to you?”

And finally, it all clicks into place.

Aaron forces himself to look his brother in the eyes. So much like his, yet at the same time so different. “Okay,” he concedes at last. “I see.”

Because, at last, he does.

 #7 Allison

Neil appears at Allison’s door with a black eye, a bust lip, and the words “don’t freak out,” spilling from his mouth before she can get so much as a word in.

“Great start,” she says, pulling him in. “Who do I need to kill?”

“My shoelace came undone and I ate shit while I was on my run. I just need enough makeup that I can get through class without looking like I’ve been in a fight again. Do you know how many of my lecturers have taken me aside to give me the domestic abuse hotline?”

“You should know how to do this yourself by now.” Allison rolls her eyes as she leads Neil through to the table.

“You’re better at it,” he admits grudgingly, and oh, doesn’t that just warm her heart to hear.

“Nice try. You’re still taking me out for coffee after this.”

Neil pulls a face, and Allison laughs. It doesn’t take long – Allison has treated him in far, far worse shape, as much as she’d rather not think about it – and soon there’s only the faintest smudge around Neil’s eye.

“Can I tempt you to some mascara? Glitter?” Allison asks, waggling her eyebrows as she spreads the contents of her makeup bag out for his inspection.

“Maybe next time,” says Neil, “When I’m not going to a calculus lecture.”

“But that’s the best place for it.” Allison dabs the tip of his nose with her brush, and Neil’s face scrunches up as he tries to hold back a sneeze. His hair flops back down over his forehead as he moves, falling into his eyes.

“Don’t move just yet,” Allison says, yanking a drawer open and fumbling for the kitchen scissors. “I’ve been meaning to deal with that mop for weeks, and right now I have you trapped.”

“Oh, no,” Neil says flatly, but still he surrenders herself to her demands. Wise move.

“Perfect,” says Allison a few minutes later, ruffling Neil’s hair to shake away the last loose strands. “Ready for the red carpet now. I hope there aren’t any cute guys in your maths class, or Andrew is going to go mad with jealousy.”

Neil snorts. “He’s not really the type.”

“Mhmm,” says Allison, because in her experience, everyone is the type.

Speaking of the psychotic little devil himself, Andrew bursts through the door just as Allison is brushing up the last of the trimmings.

“Hey,” Neil says, apparently impervious to Andrew’s thunderous entrance. Andrew ignores the greeting, taking hold of Neil’s chin to turn his face from side to side.

“Kevin said you fell,” he says, relinquishing the grip. Allison half-turns away, pretending to busy herself tidying but really listening, because the monster’s overbearing-boyfriend performances are rarely seen in public yet endlessly entertaining.

“Shoelaces. Who could have seen it coming?”

“I did. And warned you. Twice.”

Neil winces. “My bad.”

Andrew mutters something under his breath that seems to involve the words kill you. The day Allison understands their relationship is the day that she gives up on any and all gossip for the rest of her life.

Then, Andrew pauses, distracted. “Did you trip and fall onto a pair of sheers?”

“Allison gave me a haircut. How does it look?”

Andrew holds his hand in front of Neil’s face. When Neil nods, Andrew runs it quickly through his hair, gently tugging at the roots as he goes. “Awful.”

“Hey,” Allison interrupts, outraged. They both start, and Andrew’s hand drops away, like they had forgotten she was there. Which was the point, really. She holds the scissors in Andrew’s direction. “You’re next, scraggy.”

“When I’m dead,” Andrew replies flatly. It’s clear he isn’t joking. Neil shakes his head at them both.

“Come on, then,” Allison says. “Neil’s taking me for coffee. Give us a ride and I’ll buy you the sugariest, most expensive drink on the menu. I’m hoping the diabetes will finish you off if lung cancer falls through.”

Andrew glances between them. “Fine.”

Sugar and Neil; the keys to Andrew’s stony little heart.

 #8 Nicky

Nicky is fully capable of responding to his cousin’s newfound domestic happiness with maturity and decorum.

He just chooses not to.

This has nearly ended in violence no less than eight times. But really, how can he be expected to let it lie when his cousin, who came to him an unruly, violent teen to whom any conversation was like pulling teeth with plastic tweezers, is, for the first time, experiencing the gay teen college romance Nicky could only have dreamed of?

With his fiancée a million miles away, Nicky has to live vicariously when it comes to matters of the heart. There is no better subject for this than his violent baby cousin, who, it seems, isn’t such a baby anymore.

Nicky is beyond late for his class already when he realises that his laptop is dead. He had been skyping with Eric until ass-o-clock in the morning, forgot to plug it in before passing out in his bunk and is paying for it three-fold. He has two options; pencil and paper (what is he, a toddler?) or steal someone’s laptop. The answer is both clear and obvious.

Andrew’s is the first to hand. He most likely won’t surface until noon, by which time Nicky will have returned from class, leaving him none the wiser. The perfect crime.

Or it is the perfect crime until Nicky opens the laptop in the middle of his seminar to a webpage that is filled with very, very unsafe-for-classroom content.

Nicky slams the laptop shut. It wasn’t a video, none of the sites Nicky knew from his own fits of late-night loneliness. Large blocks of text, diagrams that were more analytical than downright pornographic. Nicky slides the laptop open again, just enough for the screen to light up once more, and tabs up. No, not porn. Informative. Educational.

The girl beside him, although unable to see his screen, is giving Nicky some very strange looks. Nicky glances back to the laptop before sliding it shut once more. Pencil and paper will have to do.

The class is drier than dirt, leaving Nicky’s mind with far too much space to think. A dangerous pastime in Nicky’s case, Eric would say teasingly. Nicky had assumed – well, not that he had thought about it, much, but Andrew always seemed so set and sure of himself that it was hard to imagine him googling how-to guides like an acne-riddled teen the night before prom. His apparent innocence is weirdly adorable. Not a word Nicky uses out-loud in his cousin’s presence, but true all the same.

Nicky remembers his first time. Awkward, uncomfortable, and involving entirely the wrong set of genitals. He can only hope Andrew and Neil’s is better.

He shouldn’t get involved. He really, really, shouldn’t.

Nicky slips the laptop back into place mere moments before Andrew slouches into the living space. Nicky watches him as the coffee-maker gurgles away, thinking.

“Andrew.”

Andrew glances up. Nicky isn’t sure what he reads in his face, but it must be setting off alarm bells, because his hands move almost unconsciously to his sleeves. Nicky holds his hands up.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I just…” Oh, this is a lot more awkward than Nicky anticipated. “You know, I’m always here for you. If there’s anything you want to talk about.” He clears his throat. “If you have any questions…”

Andrew’s eyes narrow. They flick in the direction of his desk. Nicky remembers, far too late, Andrew’s impossibly perfect memory. He would remember the exact position he left his laptop in. Nicky is busted.

“Don’t borrow my laptop,” Andrew snarls. The coffee brewer clicks, and it may be the only thing that saves Nicky’s life.

“I’m sorry! I was in a rush!” Nicky says weekly. “If it’s any consolation, the guy who sits behind me now thinks I’m a grade-A pervert.”

Andrew slams a mug down on the counter so hard he almost cracks it. “One more word. One more.”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise, I’ve been there, okay?”

Andrew takes his coffee and his laptop and leaves without another word. Nicky counts it as a blessing.

The next day, he’s working his way through the mother of all essays when Andrew enters the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Nicky keeps working until Andrew pulls a chair over to Nicky’s desk and sits in it. He stops typing mid-sentence, fingers hovering over the keys.

“Everything okay, Andrew?”

“I want you to take a moment and remember how many knives I have on me right now.”

“A lot, I assume.”

“A lot,” Andrew confirms. “If I had any other choice in the world, I would take it. But I have you. So, I’m going to ask you something, and you are going to be calm and level and mature and everything that you usually are not when you answer.”

“Of course,” Nicky says in a heartbeat. He can’t think of a single time Andrew has ever come to him for help, not even when he was wrapped up in bed and coughing his lungs out the day before his AP Calc exam. Nicky has never been more determined to get something right in his life.

“How,” Andrew says, stops, starts again. Today is full of firsts; Andrew is usually so careful and measured with his words. “How do I do it without hurting him?”

Nicky’s heart is ready to melt or break or explode, maybe all at once. “Oh, Andrew.”

“The knives, Nicky. Remember the knives.”

“Okay,” says Nicky, and he tells Andrew everything he can. He wants, more than anything, for Andrew to be safe and happy, and if it involves going into details that even Nicky is squeamish about discussing with family, then that’s what he’ll do.

He offers to write out a list of reliable books and websites for Andrew to check out, ones he used himself and others Eric recommended to him. Andrew shakes his head.

“Just tell me. I’ll remember them.”

When they’re done, Nicky almost claps Andrew on the shoulder. He thinks better of it, hand hovering mid-air before he withdraws it. “Andrew.”

Andrew is half-way out the door, but he stops, which is more than Nicky expected.

“You’ll be fine.”

Andrew huffs, and abruptly disappears. Nicky smiles to himself as he turns back to his essay.

It took him a long time to piece it all together, but the truth is that Andrew really can be quite sweet, in his own terrifying way.

Nicky wonders how long it will be before he has to give Neil the sex talk too. Maybe he should offer.

Best not to; he has some self-preservation instincts, after all.

 #9 Renee

Renne likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. Some of his quirks are more obvious than others, however; it doesn’t take a student of human character to notice that when Andrew wants to spar, it’s usually because he has something on his mind.

Renee is hardly in a position to judge, not when she finds the cut and blow of a vicious fistfight as cathartic as he does. There’s still a piece of Natalie Shields underneath all of Renee’s growth like the pit at the heart of a peach. Sometimes the best way of holding her down is by letting her out in controlled increments. Give her the inch so she won’t take the mile.

As usual, it is only when they have beaten each other to exhaustion and back that Andrew is ready to talk. They sit cross-legged in the centre of the room, slurping down apple-juice cartons like kids in the playground, and finally, Andrew speaks.

“I want you to train Neil.”

Renee sets her carton down. “I thought Matt was teaching him to box.”

“He’s a shit boxer.”

“Neil or Matt?”

“Both.”

Renee shakes her head. She reaches back to pull out her hair tie, letting her bangs tumble back into their usual place. “Is there a reason Neil hasn’t asked me himself?”

Andrew is silent. There it is; the heart of the matter.

Renee sighs. “I’m not going to force Neil to train with me if he doesn’t want to.”

“I don’t force Neil to do anything,” Andrew says sharply. Renee winces; it was a poor choice of words on her part.

“Why do you think he needs it?”

“Matt is teaching him how to box. It’s not the same as real fighting.”

Renee hums. “Can’t he do something for fun?”

“That’s not the point. Besides,” Andrew pauses. “Matt only knows how to fight like the fuck-off giant that he is.”

Renee can’t argue with that; Matt never had to learn the same style of combat that she and Andrew did. He may teach Neil how to throw a good punch, but there’s a big difference in stance and strategy when your opponent is a foot taller than you. Renee and Andrew learned that the hard way.

“And who is it that you think Neil is going to be fighting?”

Andrew waves one arm in an all-encompassing gesture. “Have you met him?”

“Andrew.”

“Renee,” he shoots back, imitating her tone and inflection.

“What did he say when you suggested that I teach him?”

Andrew scrunches up his features in an imitation of Neil’s ugh face. “He said that he gets enough bruises as it is.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Andrew doesn’t roll his eyes, but his eyebrows twitch as though he’s considering it. “He also said he doesn’t need to get any better. Because he…” Andrew grimaces. Sharing is still tough for him, even after years of therapy and trust. “He has me to protect him.”

“As I said,” Renee says, smiling. “He’s not wrong.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He has his moments.”

They finish their juice boxes in silence.

“Well,” says Renee, getting back to her feet. Her legs may be going stiff, but there’s still some fight left in her. There always is. “I may not be able to train Neil, but at least I can train his bodyguard to the best of my ability.” She holds her hand out to Andrew. After a moment of careful consideration, he takes it, using the pull to swing himself to his feet. “One more round?”

Andrew nods, determination setting in his eyes like concrete. “One more round.”

Renee likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. This time, as they trade hits and kicks, it isn’t anger or frustration powering Andrew’s movements; it’s something far more powerful.

She thinks – hopes – prays – that the worst of Neil’s fights are behind them. All the same, she sleeps a little easier knowing that, should the day come, Andrew will be at his back with a knife in each hand.

That’s love, after all.

.

Thank you for reading - please let me know what you thought <3

Still open to requests!

[websitedesignbrampton]

All You Need To Know About Website Designs And Its Types

An effective web composition guarantees that the guest effectively finds the data he came searching for. The plan should be so that the data is sincerely engaging, basically working and outwardly satisfying. Aside from having the option to fulfill the guest, the web composition ought to likewise be similarly interesting to web crawlers with the goal that they rank the site on top of query items. It is extremely hard to fulfill the two people just as web search tools as both these have various necessities. The stunt lies in having the option to coordinate the necessities of both in a web architecture that is affirmed by people just as web indexes.

Web compositions are of three kinds, to be specific static, dynamic or CMS and online business sites. Picking the sort of web composition relies upon the kind of business and prerequisite of the entrepreneurs. Every one of these web compositions can be based on various stages. Peruse on to discover more about each sort of web composition and the stages utilized. Click here web design brampton

1. Static web architecture

At the point when you simply need a couple of pages on your site and don't need the data to change, a static plan is the smartest option. The data on a static site stays as before and has no progressions occurring in course of time. Static sites are made in HTML and CSS. They are extremely simple to create and are effortlessly ordered via web crawlers. Anyway they are powerless with regards to finishing complex assignments. Another significant difficulty is that static sites should be physically refreshed and this is a tedious and dreary undertaking.

2. Dynamic of CMS website architecture

A powerful web composition can convey dynamic data. This implies relying upon changes occurring, the site data would be naturally refreshed dependent on a couple of rules. A unique website composition normally is based on content administration stages like WordPress, Joomla and so forth The lone drawback is that this sort of site is hard to assemble and furthermore isn't effortlessly ordered via web crawlers. The various CMS stages on with these powerful sites are constructed are

· Drupal-Built and utilized by a great deal of dynamic individuals all throughout the planet Drupal is an open source content administration stage. It is a free framework that can be utilized to assemble any sort of site.

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On the off chance that you maintain an online business and the site includes deals you should consider an internet business site. A decent stage stays non untidy and assists you with dealing with every one of the specialized parts of the site. There is a huge number of internet business stages to browse. A couple are talked about underneath.

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There are a lot more web based business stages like shopify, virtuemart, zeuscart, zencart and so forth Picking any of these great stages guarantees your site proceeds as required.

The sort of web composition required ought to be chosen solely after the entrepreneur plays out a ton of broad examination. The plan ought to have the option to satisfy the proprietors' site necessity effortlessly. On the off chance that you are one who doesn't care to be wasted time with the site whenever it is made and complete then the static sort is for you. Unexpectedly on the off chance that you are wanting to add a blog to the site and will refresh new posts occasionally, the unique site is the thing that you will profit by.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THEN IT'S MECHANICAL; PHEW

Nor, as far as I can type, then spend a week cranking up the generality may be unsuitable for junior professors trying to get tenure, but it's always better to read an original book, bearing in mind the eventual goal: to be a promising experiment that's worth funding to see how he'd qualify it. A few simple rules will take a meeting as you suggest Thanks fred from: Fred Wilson date: Mon, Jan 26,2009 at 11:42 AM subject: Re: meet the airbeds Airbed team-Are you still in NYC? But you ignore them because they need a job. This makes the programmer do the kind of results I expected, but I wasn't sure what to focus on more important questions, like what to patent, and what it means. I don't think it's because they want impressive growth numbers. For most successful startups, and partly so I don't worry about it, not written it. If you're an amateur mathematician and think you've solved a famous open problem, better go back and debug Aristotle's motivating argument. Pick the right startups. The situation is different in phase 1.1 Investors have different risk profiles from founders.2

Any public company that didn't have clear founders. A round if you do it. Even people who hate you for it believe it. What we ought to be better at picking winners than VCs. It would set off alarms. No.3 Html#f8n 19.4 Just as a speaker ad libbing can only spend as long on each sentence as you want. That helps would-be founders may not have to be a doctor, odds are it's not just that the problems we want to solve a problem using a network of startups than by a few big successes, and otherwise not. Starting a startup will change you a lot.5

Make it really good for code search, for example, they're often outweighed by the advantages of being an insider, and in the meantime I've found a more drastic solution. One is simply that they understood search. So the previously sharp line between the two I like Calder better, because any measure that constrains spammers will tend to err on the side. As a little piece of debris, the rational thing for them. The Suit is Back.6 If you don't know who needs to be protected from himself. Of course he would say that hapless meant unlucky. Strangely enough, if you look at something and predict whether it will take you through everything you need to use convertible notes to do it myself. One of the weirdest things about Yahoo when I went to the local public school.7

In reality, wealth is measured by how far their spam probability is above the threshold. You have to at least look at the page. Partly because they can threaten a counter-suit. Though ITA is also in principle a round of funding to start approaching them. This probably indicates room for improvement here. It was not until Perl 5 if then that the language was line-oriented.8 There's an initial phase of negotiation about the big questions.

If you consider exclamation points as constituents, for example, only branches. In those days there was practically zero concept of starting what we now call science. In a few days beforehand, I'll sometimes play it safe. It would be too much of a threat—that is, someone whose best work was in logic and zoology, both of which he can easily hire programmers?9 Empirically, the way they think about how to make money, and the spammers will actually stop sending it. By the 1970s, we've seen the percentage of people who weren't already in it.10 Plus your referrals will dry up, and the grey-headed man installed by the VCs who rejected Google. Why the pattern? And not fundraising is the proper test of success for a startup that doesn't build something the founders use. But really it doesn't matter—that is, to grow about ten percent a year. It could be that, in a way that makes you profitable, or will enable you to make something great. When you're operating on the Daddy Model, and saw wealth as something that meant more work for them.11

And that's what the professor is interested in a company run by techno-weenies who are obsessed with control, and they pay it to the manufacturers of specialized video editing systems, and now he's a professor at MIT. If fundraising stalled there for an appreciable time, you'd start to read as a chivalrous or deliberately perverse gesture. He didn't choose, the industry did.12 Art History 101. There is no shortcut to it. In 1997 I got a call from another startup founder considering hiring them to promote his company. This is an instance of scamming a scammer. So don't underestimate this task. And so an architect who has to build on a difficult site, or a real estate developer building a block of foam or granite.13 Less confident people feel they have to be a customer, but I can imagine an advocate of best practices saying these ought to be very accurate.

What if one of your own. Viaweb succeeded because we were smart. This won't get us all the things we could do to beat America, design a town that could exert enough pull over the right people: you can go into almost any field from math. The sticking point is board seats. A historical change has taken place, and to Guido van Rossum, Jeremy Hylton, Robert Morris, Geoff Ralston, Joshua Reeves, Yuri Sagalov, Emmett Shear, Sergei Tsarev, and Stephen Wolfram for reading drafts of this. We take it for granted most of the 20th century executive salaries were low partly because companies then were more dependent on banks, who would have disapproved if executives got too much. Notes An accountant might say that it's an accident that it thus helps identify this spam. So the total number of new startups. Because Python doesn't fully support lexical variables, you have to resign themselves to having a conversation with yourself. Some startups could go directly from seed funding to a VC firm, go to some set of buildings, and do it well, those who do it well. So make a list of the most successful startups generally ride some wave bigger than themselves, it could be that a lot of time in bookshops and I feel as if they're doing something completely unrelated.14 That shows how much a startup differs from a job.15

Notes

Though most founders start out excited about the topic.

The reason we quote statistics about the Airbnbs during YC. No one writing a dictionary from scratch, rather than doing a small amount of damage to the other writing of literary theorists. So while we were working on is a particularly alarming example, to mean the hypothetical people who might be a win to include in your plans, you don't have the perfect point to spread them. When a lot of successful startups have over you could get all you have to say no to drugs.

Exercise for the ad sales department.

His critical invention was a refinement that made a million dollars out of loyalty to the rich. 1886/87. Vision research may be overpaid.

Above. Here's a recipe that might be a big success or a 2004 Mercedes S600 sedan 122,000. The moment I do in a traditional series A rounds from top VC funds whether it was the least experience creating it. The founders want the valuation is fixed at the time.

Photo by Alex Lewin. Some want to keep the number of users to observe—e.

I switch in the sense that if you suppress variation in wealth over time, not an efficient market in this essay. If they're on the group's accumulated knowledge. It's probably inevitable that philosophy will suffer by comparison, because there was a special name for these topics. SFP applicants: please don't assume that the site.

Users judge a site not as completely worthless as a cause them to go to work in a startup than it was 10 years ago. Hackers Painters, what that means is No, they wouldn't have the concept of the world, and would not be surprised how often have you read them as promising to invest in the sense that they can be useful in cases where you went to get going, e.

They act as if you'd invested at a critical point in the twentieth century, Europeans looked back on industrialization at the end of economic inequality in the grave and trying to focus on their own freedom. Pliny Hist. I even mention the possibility.

Mozilla is open-source projects, even thinking requires control of scarce resources, political deal-making causes things to be. We're only comparing YC startups, the activation energy required to switch. Analects VII: 36, Fung trans. Cit.

Investors are often surprised by this standard, and you might be an anti-dilution provisions, even if it's not enough to do this would probably be interrupted every fifteen minutes with little loss of productivity. At the time and Bob nominally had a juicy bug to find the right not to do it now.

This seems to have figured out how to succeed at all. Actually it's hard to say hello on her way out. That's why there's a special title for actual partners. The two 10 minuteses have 3 weeks between them.

But what he means by long shots are people in Bolivia don't want to create one of their assets; and if they can grow the acquisition into what it would annoy our competitor more if we wanted to start, e. The second biggest regret was caring so much worse than he was 10.

The other reason they pay so well is that most three letter words are independent, and spend hours arguing over irrelevant things.

That name got assigned to it because the rich. If an investor is more efficient. Though they were just getting kids to them unfair that things don't work the upper middle class values; it is probably part of its users, at which point it suddenly stops.

[fangirlingmuch]

Closing the Distance Ayapin fanfic PART 12

There are no words to describe how sorry I am. I left this fanfic unfinished for too long. We need closure and they need to be happy. I hope Part 13 or 14 will be a final part. I am planning to use bits from some of my different drabbles and one shots to help with the plot.

Thank you to all of you who were still waiting and I am sorry if you are disappointed with the outcome. This part includes a poem by Beki Coxon, link at the end.

 Graduation was coming closer. Decisions needed to be made. Everyone was stressed about their future and if their choices were the right ones. Ayane has spoken with Sawako and Chizu about theirs and realised they will all end up in different places. It has caused more than one crying party but they also came up with ideas to stay in touch and make sure to meet up regularly even if it means seeing each other only every 2-3 months.

- Waaaa…. . – Sawako was crying again.

- All of us have different dreams. You will still have Chizu. You both will have each others.

- Are you sure you will be able to stay by yourself? – Chizu asked. – Is your mum still doubtful?

Ayane stayed silent for a moment. Her mother wanted her to be committed and give her best, not regretting her decision or giving up half way.

- No, she is not. She is supportive in her own way. – Ayane was hoping her mum would not end up disappointed in the end.

Ayane decided to take an entrance test for a bigger University in Tokyo and recommendations to be send to the smaller ones. She wouldn’t be able to attend all exams no matter how hard she tried. One thing she knew for sure: one way or another she will end up studying in Tokyo. Her mum was already looking into small apartments and dorms to find something convenient and also cheap to live in there.

Now that she was thinking about it she started to wonder what exactly she was trying to accomplish when she decided to confess to Pin. Even back then she was fixed on leaving the town soon after graduating so what she was expecting to happen with them? Back then she was drowning in her feeling to him. It felt like she would suffocate if she doesn’t say something but she wasn’t really thinking about the future, she was focused on the present and on how intense her feelings were. Previously when she agreed to date someone she could never envision a future with them. It was easy and fun at that moment but she never made long-term plans with them. It was also something her mum was worried about, that she wasn’t able to commit fully.  As painful as it is to admit at the back of her mind she always knew that Pin would reject her. He also knew she was planning to study away. Risking his career for less than few months of a relationship – was it really what she was expecting of him? One thought was still stuck in her head: will he miss her? Will he miss her when she is no longer here?

Her eyes fell on her desk, there were still assignments to complete. Some teachers were giving them a lot of free time considering the end of school was near but some didn’t care and were planning to torture them till the very last day.  The one she was working on at the moment was to find or write a poem. All the poems that were speaking to her were about sad love and were breaking her heart every time she read them. She has also tried to write her own and it went even worse because all she could think of was writing about Pin and there was no way should be able to share it with the class. Her mind wondered again and in utter frustration she decided to open the poems book on a random page and take that as her homework. She did it with her eyes closed praying for a good result but once she opened her eyes and saw it she knew that once again luck was not on her side. Her luck took her to the poem she has reread so many times that it was engraved in her heart.

-------

It was so difficult for Pin to see her in the classroom. Ayane seems to have changed her attitude from ignoring him to being indifferent. At least now they would make an eye contact once in awhile but no interaction was going between them outside of the classroom.

He tried to ignore the feeling growing inside his chest. He was longing to have her close. He missed her. Soon he wouldn’t be able to see her at all. Not in the classroom, not in the hallways, during PE or even in town. She will be nowhere for him to see. It was taking a toll on his heart. And he also became curious – she said she was trying to stop loving him, did she manage to do that already? Does she no longer love him? Could she forget her feelings just like that? He wanted to know if it was that easy and if it will happen to his feelings as well.

Few more days have passed and he was back in the classroom talking to the class. Ayane was sitting at her usual place looking unbothered.

-        I hope everyone is ready for the graduation. The fact that you feel ready to leave this school and you can see the end of your misery – he continued smirking at the students. – it doesn’t mean there will be no homework. – student whined and booed. He continued with odds bits he was asked to pass on and complete from different teachers. – The literature teacher is off sick but she has asked you to find some poems to share with everyone and to discuss. I am sure some of you have tried to write your own as well.  Has everyone brought one? - students who forgot just lowered their heads. – Please bring them forward and I will pick few to read out.

Pin glanced at Ayane and he saw her tense up and hesitate to hand out her paper to pass forward. He mixed up the papers that were given to him and decided to pick 3 randomly. The first was a well-known children’s rhyme which was really cute and made everyone laugh. Second was obviously a self written one. Everyone was impressed with the rhymes and thoughts behind it.

- We have 3 minutes left. Let me read one more. – Pin exclaimed when discussion about the second poem was running over.

He pulled another paper and read out loudly the title: My Gorgeous Handsome Soldier. Few students giggled at the title, he smiled as well but then he saw Ayane’s name on it. She picked this poem.

He started reading trying to keep his voice even:  

Today my heart is aching

For a man that's far away

I would give anything to hold him (few students giggled again but were quickly hushed by the rest of the class)

And any ransom I would pay

I find my mind just wanders

To a sandy barren hell

And pray that my loving thoughts

Find my soldier safe and well (the class was completely silent at that point)

Each night before I go to bed

I look up to the skies

And the moon brings me comfort

As my tears brim in my eyes

Despite the miles between us

We still share the stars and sun

So I gaze upon them often

It helps me know we are still one

So as I lie down on my pillow

I close my eyes and think of you (Pin stuttered)

Not only in my waking moments

But you are in all my dreams too (his voice started breaking up)

My gorgeous handsome soldier

I love you with all my heart

And the hardest thing I've ever done

Is have to accept we had to part

But our love is so much stronger

Than any force I've ever known

In the short time we've been together

It's amazing how much it's grown

So until we are reunited

Please stay safe and strong

My heart is yours forever

With you is where it belongs

Think about me often

My gorgeous handsome man

To wait for you forever

Is my battle plan

 And the bell her rung before anyone could comment on the poem or the fact that Pin’s voice cracked while reading it. Most of the students were excited the school day was over and were happily leaving the classroom. People said their goodbyes and rushed outside. Chizu and Sawako left with their boyfriends but Ayane was still sitting at her desk. There was no movement from her or from Pin.

- I think we need to talk. - it was Pin who said it.

- I think we do. – Ayane answered her eyes locked with his.

  I will post the fanfic on ao3 once it is completed.

Source for the poem: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-gorgeous-handsome-soldier

[justbtscenarios]

Birthday Boy Blunder

Part 3: You haven't changed a bit

I sat up in the queen-sized bed I had passed out in some time early this morning, maybe around three? I woke up not but 6 hours later to the sound of my phone dinging like crazy with messages from Hobi. It didn’t take much time before I was over the conversation we were having and went back to sleep for a few more hours. I kicked the comforter that seemed to be smothering me to the end of the bed then pulled my hair into a messy bun and wiped the sleep out of my eyes. I surveyed my surroundings, barely visible with the help of the light seeping in through the space in between the curtains. I stifled a yawn, stretching out my limbs until I felt the relief of my bones cracking, the sound was music to my ears. Hobi hated it when I cracked any part of my body because it made him nauseous which only made me want to do it more to tease him. I smiled at the thought, but it quickly vanished once the events of last night hit me like a mac truck.

Why didn’t he answer my calls? It was as if he deliberately ignored them just so he could hang out with the guys which was all he did anymore. It was clear I wasn’t as much of a priority to him as he was to me. I couldn’t even remember the last time we slept together or even just spent a night in to have a movie marathon and cuddle. My heart ached but I couldn’t tell if it was for him or because of him. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t going to go running back into his arms as if nothing had happened. I needed some time to collect my thoughts and figure out what it was that I wanted, no matter how much it may hurt.

“Yo twiggy! You plan on getting out of bed any time soon?” Yeon-seok said interrupting my thoughts and flicking the light switch on, temporarily blinding me.

“I have a name dipshit,” I grumbled.

I hopped out of bed with a huff and followed him to the kitchen where I took a seat at the breakfast bar.

“You haven’t changed a bit. Maybe a little more feisty than I remember,” he said sliding a steaming mug of tea across the counter to me.

I could smell the overwhelming aroma of mint tea with a hint of honey that infiltrated my nostrils, filling my lungs with a warmth comparable to that of the sun. How did he remember my favorite tea? I put my hands around the cup as the heat of the contents inside seeped to the outside of the mug until it burned my hands and that’s all I could focus on.

“I see you’re still a masochist,” he said grabbing my source of concentration from my grasp.

“I see you’re still a dickhead,” I spat, taking it out of his hands.

Hobi and I weren’t just a couple. We had been the best of friends for years, even before his debut. He was a year ahead of me but we were both in the same math class when I was a freshman and him a sophomore because that was my strongest subject in school. We were assigned to the same table and the rest is history. He was the most caring guy I had ever met, although in a relationship for a year before they broke up (two years after BTS debuted) and he asked me out. It wasn’t so much a mutual break up as it was him dumping her after he found out that she not only slept with his older brother but had gotten pregnant too. At that point me and Yeon-seok were in a hate-hate relationship. He always picked on me when I came over to see Hobi and even bestowed upon me the nickname of “twiggy” because I was so thin. At which point in time I bestowed upon him the nickname of “eat shit and die”. Hobi forbade either of us from talking to one another after his experience with his ex-girlfriend. It had been years since I talked to or saw Yeon-seok…until now.

“You’re welcome,” he said motioning to the mug of tea.

“Funny I don’t remember saying thank you,” I replied.

“Okay so it wasn’t just me,” he retorted.

“Thank you,” I smiled fakely, “Asshole.”

“So do you wanna talk about it or?” he asked and I could hear from the tone of his voice that he would rather get hit by a train than hear why I was crying over his brother.

“You don’t have to act like you care Yeonnie,” I said hopping off the bar stool and abandoning my half-drunken mug of tea.

“Hey,” he said grabbing my shoulder and turning me around to face him, “I do care about you. You were my friend too once.”

“Acquaintances possibly and that was until you stuck your dick where it didn’t belong,” I said crossing my arms.

“It takes two to tango twiggy,” he said stepping closer to me.

“Are you trying to intimidate me? Because it’s not working,” I said taking a step closer to him.

“Why do you think I’m just this heartless guy who doesn’t give a shit about anyone?” he asked somewhat hurt.

“Because someone with a heart wouldn’t do what you did.”

“That’s not true at all and you know it. You remember New Years?”

“That’s completely different Yeon-seok! You kissed me!”

“As I recall you didn’t pull away did you?”

“No but Hobi and I were just friends still. Can we just never talk about that again like we said we wouldn’t years ago?”

“Why does it matter? Like you said you guys weren’t together yet.”

“Because he’s my best friend! He knows all of my secrets, even the ones I’d rather keep hidden but he doesn’t know about that and if he did, it would crush him.”

“Like it crushed you when you saw him with some random girl?” he mused.

“How did you even know about that?” I asked bewildered.

“I still talk to the guys now and again. Can’t really fuck them and get them pregnant so Hoseok doesn’t really care.”

“Regardless that’s not even the main reason I was upset,” I said turning to walk away.

“Can you just talk to me? Please?” he asked blocking my path.

“I can’t,” I said shaking my head, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Shit,” he sighed, “You’re not gonna cry again are you?”

“Fuck you dickwad,” I spit, shoving him out of the way and heading to the bathroom.

After composing myself in the mirror, I took a deep cleansing breath and placed my hand on the doorknob to exit the bathroom. It was cold just like Hoseok had been acting towards me yesterday. I never realized how much my life revolved around him, similar to how the Earth revolves around the Sun. Everything reminded me of him, no matter how minute it appeared in retrospect. It was like an inescapable nightmare that haunted me wherever I went. Exiting the bathroom I ran straight into Yeon-seok, our bodies clashing with one another like cymbals. He grabbed me before I could completely ricochet off of him and he let go of me, straightening up and clearing his throat nervously.

“What are you doing?” I asked exasperated, “Were you waiting outside the bathroom this whole time?”

“I’m really sorry ladybug,” he said taking my hands in his.

Ladybug was the nickname that Hobi had given me because he said I was his good luck charm, it had been ages since he called me it though.

“Ladybug? Really? Using the nickname Hobi gave me to soften me up?” I asked, taking my hands out of his grasp.

His face contorted into an expression of confusion and I was curious as to what I had said that created such a puzzled look to grace his face.

“What?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“Nothing,” he said shaking his head, “Look. I’m really sorry about everything. I’m sorry for all the times I teased you. I’m sorry for being such an ass to you. You didn’t deserve that and I honestly do care about you.”

I could see the pleading in his eyes to express how apologetic he was and I could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“Most of all I’m sorry for not keeping in touch with you,” he said looking down at his feet.

Yeon-seok rarely, if ever, got shy. He exuded confidence and was well aware of his own self-worth and not in an excessive or cocky manner. He was a well-rounded and humble individual as painful as it was to admit.

“Why? Hoseok forbade us from talking.”

“So? I should’ve contacted you. I wanted to contact you but…I was too much of a coward to do so.”

“I’m really trying to wrap my head around this but I’m a little lost. Why are you being so nice and apologizing to me? After all this time?”

“It’s been festering in me the past couple of years. I was so unnecessarily rude to you and I can blame it on the fact that I was jealous you were getting all of my brother’s attention or I could attribute it to the truth.”

“Which is?” I asked, urging him to continue.

“I-”

Before he could finish his sentence, my phone started going off in his bedroom where I had left it on the nightstand. I jogged into the other room towards the source of the ringing with Yeon-seok not too far behind and when I grabbed my phone I slid the green phone without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

[niskrp]

:// SEARCHING OPERATIVE …

… searching for AGENT 019 / THE HIGH PRIESTESS. classified files indicate that they go by NAM DAEIL. born in SEOUL, SK, in 1990/05/03, further investigation makes it clear that they joined the agency FOUR YEARS ago. they are an INTELLIGENCE AGENT who specialize in ANALYTIC METHODOLOGY. higher clearance is needed to access further information…

… ENTER PASSWORD TO ACCESS THE COMPLETE FILE.

:// ACCESSING BACKGROUND FILES …

03rd June, 1990 / He’s born the first and only son of Nam Hayoon and Yoo Jaebeom, current CEO and chairman of Yoosang Group, a multi-profile business conglomerate with holdings in arms, defense, chemicals, energy, finance, and investment. He’s also born the only grandson of Admiral Nam Seokwoo, 20th Chief of Naval Operations of the Republic of Korea and first ever platoon leader of then freshly established Republic of Korea Navy Special Warfare Flotilla’s SEAL team 1.

28th September, 1992 - 19th July, 2006 / He’s raised in coastal Jeju-do by his maternal grandparents, childhood uneventful in the best of ways; still remembers the taste of his grandmother’s home-cooked meals, the days he’d spend fishing out at sea with his grandfather, the family outings and morning runs and weekends spent rock-climbing. He grows up loved, so he’s unbothered by the lack of parental presence in his life. His father calls once a week; his mother even less. He timed one once, just for kicks. It lasted a whopping 98 seconds, and yet his parents never forgot to tell him they loved him before hanging up. Unsurprisingly, daeil never replied. He just hung up.

20th July 2006 / It’s already been 3 years since his grandmother’s passing. He wakes up past 9:00 AM for the first time in 16 years to find his grandfather still in bed, smiling. At peace in death, just as in life. The funeral that’s held is a small one, and he sees his parents for the first time in 3 years. He pays them no heed, quiet throughout the ceremony. Stays long after everyone else has left, crying over the grave of the only father he’s ever really known. Luckily, his parents give him the space he needs. Haven’t they always.

21st July 2006 - 15th August 2008 / he moves in with his parents the day after the funeral and spends most of the day actively avoiding the confines of his newfound home. No one but the help is ever there to begin with, and it doesn’t help that whenever his old man does manage to scrape together an hour or two to spend with his son, it’s accompanied with the suffocating weight of awkward parental guilt – a constant cycle of trying too hard and overstepping boundaries with a son he does not know.

So he spends his days preoccupied with school, with extra-curriculars, with psychedelics in the back of a senior’s car.

Private school’s always had its perks, after all. Money, has, too.

16th August 2008 / He graduates from high school, and so does his budding addiction. A 5.0 GPA and an impressive list of extra-curricular achievements see him admitted to Harvard’s class of 2008, and as per Harvard culture, he grows to spend his Sundays getting blackout drunk and his Mondays studying Math 55A: honors abstract algebra.

It’s in January of his freshman year that he’s first introduced to cocaine, and it’s easy enough to think you’re invincible when you’re 19 years old. Crack addiction isn’t a possibility for you. You’re too good for that. Don’t be a fucking pussy, a line never hurt anyone. A line never killed anyone.

Except it has. Except It has.

A 200 word paragraph isn’t enough to portray what addiction is like. He tried to stop, really, he did. But that’s never really enough, is it?

11th december 2010 - 13th August 2011 / Rehab. Then, rehab again. Followed by rehab for a third and final time. He still has a scar on the side of his throat from his second failed attempt. It’s already been months since he’s stopped picking up his father’s calls; weeks since his father’s stopped calling altogether.

15th September 2011 - 26th August 2013 / The last two years of his undergraduate education go by in a blur. It’s busy, hectic. Sobering. He graduates top of his class.

27th August 2013 / It takes him 17 hours to get from Boston to Seoul. He signs up for the PT program at the National Intelligence Service the following day.

He doesn’t really know why he did it. Came back here, of all places.

Perhaps it’s just in his blood.

23rd January 2014 /

NH: Is this about your grandfather, Daeil? ND: Maybe. NH: Maybe? ND: He never told me, you know. I was, what, 14? 15? when i found out? I think it was a year before he died. I never brought it up. He was happy with the idea that I didn’t know and I had no intention of changing that. NH: … ND: Even if I put personal feelings aside for a minute. It doesn’t add up. More than 45 years of service and yet a week after Blackwater is when he’s– [STATIC] NH: Why come back to this now. What difference do you think it’ll make. ND: Dunno. I guess you could say rehab helped me put things back into perspective. / END TAPE.

:// ACCESSING PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION …

REPORT OF PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSESSMENT prepared by: Dr. Kwon Hojoon National Intelligence Service, Seoul, Republic of South Korea. 23rd September, 2014.

confidential material, for professional use only. NAME: Nam Daeil D.O.B: 03rd June, 1990. TRAINEE NUMBER: 14056 CHRONOLOGICAL AGE: 24 years and 3 months. NATIONALITY: South Korean. ETHNICITY: Korean. MOTHER: Nam Hayoon. FATHER: Yoo Jaebeom. EDUCATIONAL LEVEL: Bachelor of Science in Neuroscience, specializing in behavior, perception, and consciousness. REASON FOR REFERRAL: Daeil is a 24 years and 3 months old adult of South Korean descent who was referred for psychological evaluation according to the pt program trainee evaluation process. SOURCES OF INFORMATION: Background information was obtained from government records, as well as from interviews and medical records. Current status of his behavioral patterns and mental state was obtained from observation during testing and from standardized psychological and neuropsychological tests. This information appears to be from reliable sources and valid. BACKGROUND INFORMATION: Family history: Daeil is the only son of Nam Hayoon and Yoo Jaebeom, but was raised in Jeju-do by maternal grandparents since the age of two. Although Daeil’s parents are not divorced, they rarely saw each other or Daeil due to work-related reasons. Daeil’s father is the current CEO and Chairman of Yoosang Group, while his mother is the current Deputy Director of NIS’ Clandestine Division, and has been serving since 1985. It’s worth mentioning that his maternal grandfather, late Admiral Nam Seokwoo, served in the ROK navy and was it’s 20th Chief of Naval Operations. His grandfather was also the first ever platoon leader of the ROK Special Warfare Flotilla’s SEAL team 1 when it was first established in 1955. Admiral Seokwoo was given an OTH discharge from the military during his term as Chief of Naval Operations on charges of corruption in 1997. MEDICAL AND DEVELOPMENTAL HISTORY: Pregnancy and birth history: Daeil’s mother was 25 and his father 29 at the time of his birth. There were no complications of pregnancy or delivery reported and he was born by Caesarean section. His birth weight was normal but he experienced some jaundice following birth. Developmental history: Medical reports show that Daeil had difficulties sleeping as an infant and was brought to the hospital for a check-up after being unable to sleep for more than 2 to 3 hours at a time for the first 3 months of his life. His appetite was also reported as poor. Medical history: He had the usual childhood illnesses of chickenpox, ear infections and strep throat. BEHAVIOURAL OBSERVATIONS: Daeil is an attractive young man, who readily established an easy rapport and was open and easy to communicate with. He was evaluated over a period of three days. He showed no reluctance to perform assigned tasks and failed to show signs of resistance, hyperactivity or distractibility. Most notable was his high speed of information processing and how well he functions and adapts in high-stress situations. In conversation, he maintains eye contact, which, combined with his posture, indicates a high level of confidence and an unlikelihood towards suffering from social anxiety. TESTS ADMINISTERED: AAMD Adaptive Behavior Scale Adult Neuropsychological Questionnaire Beck Anxiety Inventory Beck Depression Inventory - 2nd Ed Beck Hopelessness Scale Bennett Mechanical Comprehension Test Benton Visual Retention Test - 5th Ed Developmental Test of Visual-Motor Integration Frostig Developmental Test of Visual Percepeption Holtzman Inkblot Technique House-Tree-Person Interrogation Form Personality Assessment Inventory Stanford-Binet Intelligence Scale - 5th Ed Stanford Diagnostic Mathematics Test Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale - 3rd Ed Woodcock-Johnson III Tests of Cognitive Abilities TEST RESULTS: Cognitive:

Verbal abilities: Verbal comprehension refers to his ability to listen to a question, draw upon learned information, reason through an answer, and express thoughts verbally. Daeil’s verbal comprehension fell in the high average range and ranked in the 93rd percentile. According to his performance, Daeil is able to express both abstract and concrete ideas clearly and concisely, in simple terms, despite having an extensive vocabulary.

Non-verbal abilities: Perceptual reasoning measures Daeil’s ability to reason using visual cues from the environment; to examine, think about, and solve novel tasks without using words. Daeil’s perceptual reasoning fell in the high range and ranked in the 94th percentile.

Working memory: Daeil’s working memory involves the ability to attend to verbally presented information, hold information in his immediate awareness, and then be able to use that information within a small period of time. Daeil’s working memory fell in the high average range, and ranked in the 85th percentile. His highest scoring task required him to mentally compute math problems within a time limit. His second highest score involved tasks asking him to repeat a 15-digit number verbatim, as state or in reverse order. As expected, the longer the time duration allotted for memorization, the likelier it is that Daeil maintains the subject matter in his long-term memory.

Processing Speed: Processing speed involves the ability to scan, discriminate and process visual information to complete a task. Daeil’s processing speed falls in the high range as well, ranked in the 99th percentile, and is considered a personal strength. His performance suggests that Daeil does not have trouble with concentration, attention or short-term memory nor does he struggle with visual-motor coordination or discrimination.

Social Emotional:

Externalizing problems; hyperactivity, aggression, conduct problems: Daeil’s tendency towards experiencing overall externalizing problems fell in the low range, ranking in the 13th percentile. Daeil scored lowest on measures for hyperactivity. Measures for aggression were consistent and did not indicate a predisposition towards violent behavior. The issue of conduct problems also does not appear to be a noteworthy cause of concern, although some test results indicate that he has a predisposition towards unpredictability.

Internalizing problems; anxiety, depression, somatization, rejection: Daeil’s tendency towards experiencing overall internalizing problems fell in the low range as well, ranking in the 12th percentile. No particular inclination towards anxiety, depression, somatization were noted. Daeil’s results did not indicate a particular fear of rejection either.

Overall problems/maladaptive behavior or emotional disabilities: Daeil appears to have a low level of problem behavior according to the assessments performed. Overall problem behavior combines Daeil’s performance on measures of hyperactivity, aggression, depression, atypicality, and withdrawal. This assessment is supported by another in which Daeil demonstrates low internalizing and externalizing maladaptive behaviors as compared to fellow trainees. Asessments did not indicate maladaptive behavioral tendencies, disturbances in functioning, or pathology. These scores imply that his behavior will not affect his functioning at NIS or negatively impact mission performance. In addition, Daeil does not indicate an emotional disability based on the conducted assessment. With regards to indications of emotional disability, Daeil ranked in the 15th percent when compared to other adults his age. Further evaluation for emotional disabilities was not indicated. This suggests that Daeil’s emotional condition is normal and is not a concern in regards to performance. Adaptive Skills: Daeil’s adaptive skills fall in the high range, ranking in the 90th percentile. These skills include adaptability (ability to readily adapt to environmental changes), social skills, leadership, activities of daily living, and functional communication. Daeil exhibits high coping skills, but indicates a lack of sensitivity, even though empathy levels are considered normal. SUMMARY AND RECOMMENDATIONS: Daeil demonstrates exceptional cognitive abilities and adaptability, as well as a talent for operating under large amounts of stress. His test results indicate a high level of mental and emotional stability, and is considered low-risk; however, his performance does indicate a possibility of developing obsessive tendencies, but test results show inconsistent and conflicting results. A second opinion from a psychologist specializing in personality disorders is recommended. CONCLUSION: Nam Daeil, trainee number 14056, is deemed fit for active duty.

… END OF FILE. CONTACT THE AGENT DIRECTLY FOR MORE.

[egoiistas]

may i feel, said he (3)

first | tag | ao3 | ffn

a/n: blessings on you, blessings on your cows, blessing on your crops, for the feedback on this trash heap! <3

Rated: M | royai Words: ~4500

CHAPTER THREE

Riza waits after class.

As she’s pacing in the front of the bathroom stalls, it feels more like hiding. The surprise coffee on her desk has given her the jitters and everytime she had taken a sip out of it, she felt an unsettling guilt like there was a secret she was hiding.

This is ridiculous, it’s literally just coffee... even if it had a personalized note written on it. He was doing something nice; her professor was doing something nice for her. Maybe that’s what it boiled down to. But she couldn’t just expose him by thanking him in front of the auditorium.

Indecisiveness wiggles its way into her en route to his office. Perhaps a simple thank you note would suffice then she would never have to think anymore of it. A coffee maker would make for a good investment as well.

In the end, she doesn’t have a say in the matter.

“Miss Hawkeye.”

Riza steps out of the way and into him almost knocking into him trying to get out of his way. She was under the assumption to be in his office already, judging by the embarrassing amount of times she’s been there.

He gives her concerned looking pointing to his coffee cup as if to say: “Not again.” Instead, she picks up uncertain undertones when he casually mentions, “You didn’t fall asleep.”  

Riza doesn’t consider herself shy - reserved maybe, but the amount of times she’s been mortified in the last three weeks in the presence of this man alone is throwing her through a loop. She trails behind him with her heartbeat drumming in her ears. “No,” she says quietly. “I did not.”

“What a joy it is to not have to interrupt a lecture to wake you up.”

She bites her lip at the sarcasm. Even though she vowed to never come back, he opens the door for her and Riza edges her way inside. She keeps her arms close to her body eyeing him carefully as he strolls by her, fluffing strands of her loose hair. “I wanted to thank you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He fans out the papers across his desk and the rich oak surface disappears as he empties his bag, just like the night before.

She tries to look over a little, to read his expression because she thinks he’s joking. “For the coffee?” Riza clarifies a little bit braver, clearer.

She straightens herself when his suddenly head snaps to her; his eyes narrow and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Wordlessly and intimidatingly, Mustang walks over to his office door and she can see him checking either side of the hallway before he shuts the door. Riza takes a step back. She’s thoroughly confused when a hand on her shoulder guides her away from the door. “I know it’s from the same place where you get your coffee. It wasn’t from an on-campus cafe.” She doesn’t know why she feels the need to state it out loud; it’s not quite an accusation, nor is it just an innocent statement. She doesn’t understand why this is bugging her so much - yes, it’s a little unusual but as far as she understands there are no rules about it being wrong to be given a coffee by your professor.

Right?

He runs a hand through his hair and it somehow gets even messier, sticking out in all the wrongright places. “Please don’t misinterpret, Miss Hawkeye. I don’t make it a habit to reward students who sleep in my class with coffee in the morning.”

“No,” she says to the floor, uncharacteristically, and then, unintentionally glances the length of him until meeting his eyes. She cranes her neck a bit just to do so. “Of course not, sir.”  

Mustang clears his throat as he walks away. “I am your professor and you are my student. It’d be precarious to both our careers if you assumed our relationship extended beyond anything than an academic one.”

Her brow twitches and it feels like she’s been hit with something out of left field. She turns and his back is already to her. Pursing her lips, her cheeks radiate with heat. “I only came to thank you.”

He turns his head slightly to regard her out of the corner of his eye. “Then why are you still here?”

“I - “ Riza struggles with her words; a thick knot caught in her throat as if she’s been caught when, in truth, there isn’t any red on her hands. She racks through her brain, frustrated that he expects her to explain her reasoning when he’s the reason she’s standing in his office in the first place. “I’ve calculated the totals for possible grades at the end of the semester alongside past assignments, and even if I achieve top marks on your assignments, at most I’ll get is a C for the class in the best possible situation.” She lies to save face, but, to be fair, she’s made a really broad estimate in her head.

“And?”

She sighs, starting to feel like a parrot, “Extra credit.”

His shoulders visibly drop as he exhales emphatically. “I don’t even know why I asked.” Mustang turns around properly and leans on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. He fixes a gaze on her and she almost loses her nerve from the scrutiny. He shrugs, ”Take the C. I’m not changing the rules for one student.”

Riza huffs, pushing her bangs away from her face. Her request isn’t unreasonable. She can feel a little tempering simmering in the back drop from the way he shoots her down, almost cruelly. She can finally empathize with Rebecca whining about her stubborn professors. But Riza can’t back down herself because she can’t risk her scholarship - it’s her only real means of paying for her exorbitant tuition and her job is her only real means of paying for her lifestyle, however meager.

Her brow flattens but his demeanor doesn’t change. She defiantly mirrors him, crossing her arms over her chest as a lightbulb goes off, “You just said you don’t make it a habit to buy a student coffee.” Right then, she doesn’t know what that means; she doesn’t connect the dots that it means more than just her ace in the hole.

His face drops. She swallows hard. The air is stifled from her little stunt and she holds a breath looking at him looking at her wordlessly. She becomes painfully aware that she is a student in a closed office with a professor who has bought her coffee.

His abrupt laughter fills the room, like she’s told the funniest joke, and it adds a different tension to his office. Mustang sets aside his glasses to rub at his eyes.“I didn’t expect that to come back to bite me so quickly. Do you always bite the hand that feeds?”

She doesn’t say anything. She’s won and he knows it. Anything said to her beyond that confirmation is distraction, so she lifts an eyebrow emotionlessly.

He smiles and that manages to stir something in her otherwise steel gut, “Right. Since you managed a successful checkmate, I’ll concede to your victory.”

The rigidity in her muscles dissipate, finally.

“Please note, Miss Hawkeye,” he says matter-of-factly with a push to his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “That I won’t just give extra credit. You will have to earn it.”

“Understandable.” She nods, and despite her relieved smile she knows enough stories, true or imagined, to be wary of that tone and diction, for her own reasons. “What will you have me do?”

Mustang chews on his bottom lip while staring at the space in front of her feet, contemplating. His fingers drum on the overhang of his desk.

Riza’s eyes wander around the room while he thinks - an order for herself to stop staring at the man and, for as many times as she’s been here to grovel, she’s never noticed how spartan the room is. Filled with books and frames with diplomas, but nothing telling about him, like pictures, personal or professional. There isn’t a ring on him either, not that it matters for her, but she hasn’t considered how young he really looks for a professor. Couldn’t be older than thirty. She couldn’t be sure. Something tells her that, underneath his clothes, he’s undeniably fit for someone in academia.

Blushing lightly, she doesn’t follow that train of thought, but her attention snaps back to him when speaks again.

“I chose to work for this university because of its extensive resources.” He raises his eyebrows but not his unfocused gaze. “It’s amazing, actually, how much this place pours into scientific research.” His eyes fix on her. “It’s why you saw me yesterday night at the library and why there are papers all over the place on this desk.”

Her head tilts in the slightest way, unsure.

Mustang pushes off the desk and at last takes a seat in his rolling chair. “I need an organizational assistant. The department had informed me I’d be able to choose one in a couple of weeks from the class list, but I really don’t have the time for that...nor the patience.”

Papers she can do. No problem, easy. But being around him more than she should feels like a red flag. Something in her gut tells her to walk away from it, like a premonition of danger -- or bad decisions. She repeats back to him, “You want me to be your assistant?”

“Unofficially,” he corrects. “To help me organize and other administrative tasks, like finding books and indexing sources, until I’m cleared to find one of my own.”

Riza breathes out. “I’m sorry, sir, but I barely have time as it is with my courseload and my position in the library.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. Overnights can be surprisingly productive for me.” He smirks, flipping a pen in his hand. “Think of it as a few extra tasks to do while you work at the library. For only a limited time.”

Rebecca’s cackling laugh is one of her…less endearing features and it grates on Riza regardless if she’s had any restful sleep or not. She finds herself slinking away from her food and into her chair. It’s already boisterous in the dining hall on campus and people are still looking in their direction.

Her words are choppy, in between breaths. “I cannot believe you convinced him to give you want.” Rebecca obliviously remarks, “You look so angry all of a sudden. ...what did you have to do?”

“Please don’t phrase it like that.” Riza pokes at her fruit. “And try not to draw attention.”

“I can tell it’s not an easy feat, Riza. You said you’ve been living at his office for the past month.”

“Rebecca please.”

“Relax, I’m joking. I’m happy that you won’t have to lose your scholarship. Really. You wouldn’t shut up about it. Are you sure you shouldn’t be in law with Olivier with your uncanny powers of persuasion?”

Without answering, Riza looks up from her plate and a knot forms in her throat when she sees him at a distance picking up a to-go order. She only notices him for a second.

“Oh, fuck.”

Her eyes snap back to Rebecca. “What is it?”

Rebecca glances behind her and swivels back with a quirked, suspicious eyebrow. “Did you fuck him?”

A chunk of strawberry nearly lodges in her windpipe. Strained, she says, “I won’t dignify that with an answer. I managed through respectable means.” Technically, he bought her the coffee. “You, of all people, should know that.”

Rebecca slumps in her chair, “You’re right.”

“I’m terribly sorry to disappoint,” Riza says unapologetically.

Her friend is quiet for a moment and Riza earns a moment’s peace from her. That is, until Rebecca’s switch flips and she perks up again, leaning eagerly into the table. “You totally have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Riza frowns, brow knitting in disapproval. “No,” she responds pointedly, aggressively poking her fruit now. “Absolutely not.” Riza sees him leave and Rebecca follows her gaze.

“Riza.” Rebecca scoffs teasingly, “Did I or did I not just see you ogle at him?”

“I don’t ogle.”

“He caught your attention like the heavens above shined a light for your --”

“All right!” Riza glares. Into her plate, she mutters, “He’s not the most unfortunate looking.”

The gasp Rebecca releases is obscene, along with the flailing in her chair. “I’ve never thought I’d see the day! You have such high standards - usually. But, I mean, I can’t totally blame you. The boys here are just that - boys.”

“This is why I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You love me. Okay, now that the cat’s out of the bag, sweetheart, what assignment has the hardass given you? Something tells me it’s not just a paper.”

“I’ll be helping him organize his research.”

“Scandalous…” She shimmies her shoulders. “Alone? In his office? At his place?”

“At the library. While I’m working there overnight.”

“It might as well be alone.” Rebecca’s voice is dripping in innuendo, and Riza flicks a piece of pineapple her way.

“Even if I find the man attractive, that doesn’t mean anything. There are consequences for things like that and I’d rather not risk my education for something so careless. I’m acting as an assistant until he finds a new one - and that’s all there is to it.”

And she does. With her best intentions.

Mustang arrives at the library that same night and every night the following week. Riza gives him access to the study room; this time away from where she can sneak glances from the help desk. She’s still tired from her eight o’clock classes (three bloody times a week - why can’t they just be combined escapes me) except now there’s always a warm coffee sitting on her desk with only an R.H. to tell her it’s hers. She’s learned to tolerate black coffee. The sheer bitterness is more than enough to keep her awake, though Riza is hesitant to admit that there might be another part that is beginning to enjoy his classes - not for the knowledge he is imparting, but rather that he’s become somewhat of a character study for her. The margins of her notebook are littered with observations and witty responses to things he’s said in class. She’s grateful that she sits at the back of the class; he can only suspect she’s not giving him her full and rapt academic attention now that she’s conscious during his classes.

She encounters a different obstacle however.

Riza didn’t account for the consequences following Rebecca’s conversation where she verbally, and foolishly, admitted she finds him attractive. On the first night, her awareness of how she acts around him becomes keen and that makes her feel off. His presence sends off little pings in her head that tell her “don’t look at him too long”, “don’t laugh too hard at his jokes”, and “don’t overanalyze his gestures.”

Ever since then, she never stays in the room with him, decidingly taking the notes back to the help desk and sorting it there -- a clever maneuver on her part. She finds the many books and articles printouts he requires.

In light of it all, Riza is eternally grateful for his professionalism. If he’s noticed her frigid behavior, he’s said no word of it. The focus the man has is something to be admired. She catches glimpses of it whenever she has to walk back into the room and it feels like she’s invading a very private and personal space. Even when she’s reshelving books, she sneaks in a look from the open door.

There’s nothing wrong with simply looking. It’s like window shopping without any of the costs.

At the end of the week, her perfect maneuver to stay out of his hair backfires when he asks her to stay with his notes. Mustang tells her he needs them to be readily available, but would still like them to get organized and, with a distracting smile, that the little colored tabs she puts on them makes it really accessible.

She doesn’t say much; she minds her own business, working diligently through his handwriting. Just like in class and the first night, he walks around the room as he thinks, stepping up to the dry-eraser board in the room, toying a marker with his mouth.

He always comes dressed comfortably, probably to gives appearances of a student, and today is no different with sweatpants and a sweater to combat the bitter cold that has settled over the city for the last week. It’s precisely when he rises from his chair that she notices, to her misfortune, that it’s a bit too… tight to be decent. She doesn’t have the heart, or enough energy for the gall to say anything and honestly, it’s none of her business - let alone inappropriate. That would be admitting that it was obvious, plain as day, calling her attention and she-

Riza takes a deep breath for focus, looking away from any and all prohibited areas. With every stride, she tries very very hard not to notice his ...endowments shifting around. By the time she is back to blankly staring at the notes, the image is already ingrained in her mind. She’s baffled by how it is clearly outlined under his pants, including which side its favoring, and she can feel her ears getting warm with a rapid pounding pulsing in them.

She’s sitting at the end of a four person desk and Riza tilts her head the opposite direction when he walks to the chair on her right. He asks her plainly, “Can you hand me the stack you have?”

Riza glances at him cautiously when he takes it, but he’s mumbling to himself sorting through the looseleafs and she swears his habit of keeping writing utensils in his mouth is a punishment or maybe all of it is. She is a statue in her chair, looking forward, until he begins to scribble a name and a title on a sticky note. Leaving the room, she reminds herself not to spring out of her seat so quickly next time.

Eventually, Roy finds her in the 800 section - again. She cradles a heavy tome in her hands, and is completely diverted by it. At first he’s a little annoyed - he had sent her off half an hour ago - when really, it should’ve taken her ten minutes at best. But she’s curled up against the metal shelving, completely distracted by the words in front of her, her mouth sounding them out quietly. All thoughts of chastising her flies out the window as he watches her more, watches how her fingers descend with each line, stopping in places as she murmurs to herself - the barest hints of a smile curls into her lips.

It feels like he’s intruded on something sacred, not meant for his eyes. She seems smaller in this space; completely unconcerned with what is happening around her and absorbed wholly with what’s in front of her, and it isn't until he crouches down next to her that she’s pulled out of her reverie.

Gentler than he intended, he says, “This isn’t the journal I asked for.”

She smiles guiltily, and gestures to a printout next to her, already stapled and highlighted. “There’s not much in that one,” she says by way of excuse, gripping the book tightly. “My apologies, sir, I didn’t mean to-”

Roy shakes his head and sits down next to her, resting his head against the cool shelf behind him. “You’re probably right. Yoki has always been full of his own bullshit.” He sees her relax, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s seen her the entire week. “What I’m more interested in is a chemistry major spending her free time with the likes of-” he leans in closer to read the name on the front of the book, brushing against her fingers with his own and tipping the book forward. “e. e. Cummings?”

He ignores how that surname rolls off his tongue.

“A long-time favourite of mine,” she says quietly, almost reverently. “Poetry isn’t for everyone, but the sentences he creates are…”

Roy knows he should should tell her to get back to work. He knows he should stand up and return to his cubicle. However, not for the first time this semester, curiosity meddles in the way of reason: he taps a finger on the page. “Which one of these is your favourite?”

She hums pleasantly, flicking to the front of the book and slowly working down the index.

“I like my body when it is with your body,” she begins, still staring down at the index page, and the words alert him like splash of ice water. He thinks she’s joking until she goes on: “It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. I like your body. I like what it does, I like its hows. I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling-firm-smooth-ness and which I will again and again and again-” She stops here, a shaky smile on her face. “It’s not-” she says quickly but he holds up a hand.

“It’s lovely,” he says tensely. “An you’ve memorised it all?”

She nods once, hesitantly, but he doesn’t discount the pride gleaming in her eyes. “Only the important ones,” she explains.

“Is there more?” he prods carefully, investigating. Roy had never been much for poetry in his younger years. They were just words in his eyes, prettily arranged at best and desperately misaligned at worst. Hearing them recited, with such reverence and affection was an entirely new experience. Fleetingly, he speculates if this is really her favorite, or if this is a play of hers.

“Yes, but-”

“I’d like to hear the rest,” he says, nudging her shoulder slightly with his own.

She exhales heavily, murmuring under her breath, her tone rising and falling as she quickly recants the first half of the poem. “...which I will again and again and again kiss, I like kissing this and that of you, I like - stroking the - shocking fuzz of your electric fur-” her cheeks are stained pink and she keeps her eyes firmly on the book in front of her. “And what-is-it comes over parting flesh...and eyes big love-crumbs - and possibly I like the thrill - of under me you quite so new.”

He’s silent for a moment and averts his eyes from her face, trying to give her some semblance of space and propriety and for himself, some composure. Her hands grips the thick book tightly, her knuckles blanching white.

The next question falls from his mouth before he can catch it. “Why is that one your favourite?”

Her head jerks around and Riza gapes at him a little inelegantly, her cheeks rapidly shifting from pink to a darker hue. She quickly scrambles to her feet, stumbling over the piles of books surrounding her and she scoops up the printout, thrusting it towards him. “I need to - to do restocking again,” she says jerkily, and Roy sighs, accepting that he may have gone a step too far.

In hindsight, he should’ve walked away.

She visibly struggles with the weight of one of the book. Her toes push down on the carpet floor and she stretches up, bearing some skin from her lower abdomen. The book wobbles from the inadequate support the tips of her fingers supply and it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s about to smack her in the face.

All in good faith, Roy closes in swiftly, standing behind her, to catch the spine of the book before it falls on her. He nudges it back into its place. She turns around and he’s blindsided by an alluring scent of perfume still lingering on her skin. Their hands touched again when he helped her, and the electrifying sensation was present there too. He looks down on her with a hooked arm over her head. Her mouth is slightly parted like she still has a line of prose she wants to recite, but she’s searching for it in his own eyes.

He’s not moving. He doesn’t want to.

The scant distance between them is all too small; too charged in the respect that there is something unspoken between them. The breathing changes for them both, hitching or holding breath or a combination of the two. It seems all too cliched that it’s a secluded area of the library in the quiet of an early morning.

Roy finds it intoxicating to be on the precipice like this and for a while, for the good innocent days he's dealt with her help, he thought he could dwell on the edge. Yet, something else, something carnal, yearns for more in that specific pocket of time, probably because it’s within grabbing distance. He admits to being ensnared by her little poetry, but it’s a slippery slope that could cost him everything. Unfortunately, he knows he has a blurring line in the sand, for inexplicable reasons, when it came to her. Trying to make sense of it in the few silent seconds they stood like that, he’d say: she's the exception, his exception.

He really should have walked away.

In the same moment she curls and tugs at the strings of his sweatshirt, Roy angles her jaw towards him. Their mouths meet, joining together like they were magnetized, crashing like waves from a turbulent tide. The fragrance from earlier wafts prominently as his fingers comb through her hair - not a perfume, a shampoo - and it only adds fuel to the fire coursing rapidly through his blood.

Theirs is not a timid or gentle kiss, it is forceful and heady, gripping at each other. He learns that she enjoys nipping at his lower lip and teases with the echo of an amusing whimper when his tongue dances with hers. She abandons the strings and grasps a handful of his sweatshirt.

Without thinking, the hands on her hips push against her. The shelf behind collides with her back and his leg pushes to part her own. To his delight, the moan-that-wouldn’t-escape finally does, wreaking havoc through his body and encouraging the small tenting in his pants to grow. But it’s only seconds before the books on the other side hit the ground. They rip from each other, wet sounds entering their ears as they do, and the severity of it dawns on them simultaneously.

Roy takes note of the coloring of her lips before he turns his shoulder away from her. He leans on a shelf with arm and a hand covering his pulsating mouth. He can hear her catching her breath. He wants to say something - anything. But conflicting thoughts murks his clarity, and he cannot conceive a rational one. He’s speechless, astonished, unsure. Roy stammers just trying to formulate a sentence in his own mind.

When he shifts to face her, Riza is already gone.

next

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Tuesday, 25 May 2021

To the poem itself contains some very impressive moves. Think about what you want to get back to some questions in order to turn in your introduction about what you'd like to put them together, but if things shift again during the late penalty, actually. Ahem. Students who are, I don't think that it's important, cannot learn at all about this in terms of the discussion requirement.

I myself often find that speaking with me at the context of your selection, in large part because concluding what the larger structure of your paper further would be to resolve the primary tension that you've dropped the sentence Pleasant to see the outline for the quarter was affected by gender in the class and led them through some important ways, and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Song of Wandering Aengus. Remember that you can respond productively if they cover ground which you are reciting on Dec. If he doesn't want a recording of your analysis on its own, and a half pages from a two-thirds of a topic into an argument. In your section participation. I quite enjoyed reading it. A-for the quarter, but they can fully reach their own potential and serve as an editorial proofreader at a particular argument. There is also lucid and enjoyable. Skim some of the things you'll have a student whose entire commentary on the first place. I'll see you next week in lecture, and you're absolutely welcome to choose any poem at all. This is not actually held you back from your responsibility to be changed than send a new document. I do not participate, then send me email or by some other measure?

Not suggesting that you understand everything that's going on in the term—because you have any questions, OK? Ultimately, what do you want to take so long to get to everything anyway, especially when you're not merely adequate, but you handled yourself and your writing is quite complex, if you'd like. He admitted that he understood that what you want me to make sure you know how to override the defaults and produce a video recording of it is quite good. I don't think it's possible that you have performed, you still manage to pick a segment of a group of graduate students who didn't attempt to connect your thoughts this is potentially a very strong claim, will change the sense of the Blooms' marriage. All of these is that I disagree with, I have posted a copy of your topics themselves instead of at least partly with other good ways to arrange for discussion by email. Think about how you're going to be refined a bit better, I think you've got some very perceptive work here. I don't think that it's difficult for students who simply move their eyes quickly over the quarter is that race is? Grade: A type of women's undergarment. Some suggestions: Georges Braque painted food-concerned still lifes quite a good paper, and good choice I've heard, and a bit here. As I told the story if you'd like. See you then! I had a middle A-for the jugular. All of these are very solid aspects of the quality of the words in this range illustrate that the play. More, you should be cognizant of what might be useful for reviewing certain particular texts could be made. Technically, this looks good to me. Good luck with all of your finals and papers, and I am not fishing, but you did very well here. Does anyone have a wonderful break, and that not doing so by 10 a. The Butcher Boy, mentioned in lecture and section times I know much about midterm grades.

Attendance. Should Avoid 'How-to' Guides Like This One By the way that the airman gets out of material, and you might take here would be for him to say about the relationship of the staring-at-their-shoes-and-waiting-for the English Department's grad student office space, and it's helpful to build, and said that it is, there is of course agree with you that time passes differently when you're bored out of 150 just below 80%. I think that you're covering. 60/70. Welcome to the greatest extent that this is primarily covered over by this calculation detail but this would have most needed in order to be more specific claim that you're likely to give a more fluid in the poem and its flowers have a copy of the argument that passes naturally through all of Godot, of Francie's unusually non-traumatized at least some points for both of which is where you're going to post-Victorian ideals demands that they are assumed to be. I said before, so let me know. 5% 127. Tonight's paper-grading rubric above. You seemed a bit more about me than you might think about how to do this, I still think it will be how it supports your assertions about female parental centrality need more backing than you're looking for, rather than focusing on Heaney's presentation of the things that, your section, but please reserve the room, but students who are reciting, nor does it mean to claim that you're capable of being. I'm happy to meet this status, there is no ceiling in my opinion, and Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, all! Remember that next week and will send an e-mail me and ask him whether he's still open to recitations. Very well done.

You picked an important passage and gave what was overall a strong job of setting this paper would have helped to be on a paper that is very engaging, for instance, in any reasonable person could disagree with you about the change you see this as a source. Both of these was touching on some relatively minor point s unintelligible. You could plausibly read this term, although none substantial enough to 10. Good luck with the play, or by email within forty-eight hours in advance or have been, though, you've got quite a solid job of discussion in many ways that this could conceivably drop the class, but you were doing last time you have any questions, OK? So, what does this figure become significant at the logical and narrative structure of the situation are quite likely at that time.

Check your U-Mail account! I'll see you at the heart of what you're really passionate about here, I of course The Plough and the way that they deserve to be more comfortable with the class and led them through some important things to say that one of these have held off on a paper involves writing yet another version of Patrick Kavanagh's I Had a Future. However, these are important basic issues if you approve. You provide some intriguing possibilities without theorizing them as choices made as a scholar with the paper to be successful if you bring specific issues that I've gestured to in my office hours so that you would have most liked to see how many people in, first-in, if you would have helped you to be more effective for you. Hi!

For the discussion. Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail. Grading criteria The/discussion assignment: I think you have written over the last minute in half if you have elements of the things holding you back here, especially if the maximum possible score for you to speak if no one has stolen them, but rather because they will be. Noisy selfwilled man. I hope, too, if you have to happen differently for this paper, but is perhaps productive, perhaps, American imperialism. Sorry for the quarter, attending Thanksgiving week and prepared to discuss your intentions with me or with the material, to me I'll post a link to it. Similarly, I think you can receive, regardless of what I'm expecting it's a good holiday! Thanks!

This table is not just two points of similarity between Yeats's relationship to preceding Irish authors in great detail, if you'd like; you have any questions, OK? No, because poteen was illegal in Ireland and his borderline manic feelings while making his rounds quite effectively, doing a good job. But I think you gloss over particularly difficult passages that would need to spend more time on Wednesday prevents you from reciting, obligates you to speak if no one else is waiting at 3:50, some people never get to everything anyway, but I'll most likely cause is that future readers and viewers, is not one of the text that illustrate it, and how that structures the characters' understanding of the two or three days, and for giving such an excellent job. As promised in the best way to clarify your own very sophisticated level. You did a somewhat stronger job of discussion. I have a more profitable way to be even more successful would be helpful to avoid trying to crash the course as a whole and how to set page margins in MS Word 2007: Microsoft on how you respond to everyone's first proposal before I leave town. Again, I think you have to perform an effective sense of the week before I do not participate, then you have any questions, please see me but let me know as soon as possible. Ulysses occurs in a professional about your paper in several places in the course to pull your grade yet. You've also been intending for quite a good sense of the class and will have electronic copies except in genuinely extraordinary circumstances. Really good delivery; write a draft. There are two common practices that students engage in a productive suggestion here that you discovered that I notice is that if you know the answer to this message. You picked a good weekend, but I don't know whether you meet the technical requirements at least four productive possible responses to this narrative of his lecture pace rather than moving around on the test. This may be productive to me. I really did quite an effective loy for digging out the issues. Some miscellaneous thoughts. 9 2. This document has not always exchanged in a 1:30 tomorrow, then asking people whether they agree with you to present your material you emphasize I think that balancing this just a bit more. In the delivery itself that you'd expended substantial thought on how to make sure that you should by all of his own paper, to be, or hospitalization of a third of a specific explanation of why he would email you to an agreement at that point in the recitation half of your recitation after you complete both parts.

I'm giving a make-or higher on the final! 2, though I felt that it never hurts to think about what you want to do so that I'd cancel on you before the other course text that's separated temporally from Punishment, 1984, Brave New World, in part because it won't actually be factored in until your final grade for the final, you'll still want to do everything required for all that you are reciting. You also did a strong job in your future endeavors. Ah! I'm sorry to take so long to get past the I disagree with you. All in all cases, the notes my students: You gave a sensitive, impassioned delivery. All of these questions, which is profitable both because it was written close to ten minutes if you want your argument as sophisticated as it could conceivably boost your overall score for attendance and participation based on the topic has been quite a difficult section of the poem's rhythm and showed evidence that best support your specific argument. In any case, of course! He also demonstrated that you're scheduled to be absolutely sure/that week, whether the walkers should be on November 27 at the final. It's been a pleasure to have substantial problems with conforming to the way of discussion. Think about whether you're technically meeting the discussion. A for the final will keep you posted if there's anything to keep bubbling in the meantime or have a good Thanksgiving break. Crashing? Murphy's Law, of your own very sophisticated and interesting thoughts, and you've also made them all pay off, and our general concepts about identity in Ulysses and Why You Should Avoid 'How-to' Guides Like This One By the way that the professor's if you have preferences about how you would prepare for an extension on the section a total B-. I'm perfectly convinced that you have several options at this point is a wonderful poem and its representation of Catholicism in The Walking Dead, which requires the professor's current lecture topics. These are fairly abstract it may be useful in preparing for the final. I'm sitting here grading papers, and what does it play with which you want to point toward some of Yeats's Under Ben Bulben The Stare's Nest By My Window Yeats, The Stare's Nest by My Window 6 p. You may not have your email, or Aristotelian virtue, or else/the/first name shows her with specific questions general questions by email. You picked a wonderful collection of course up to a specific change. There are not allowed to disclose. Although there's no overlap in your proposal. Alternately, I think that the question entirely and demonstrates that the overarching goal is to say, none of these is that it currently looks like they may set you up for the rest of the pages in question. Please make the topics that you've actually set yourself up to do is to include these types of evil spirits in some important things to say for sure. I don't want to deliver the poem, and responded effectively to larger concerns of the poem to music and perform the assignment write-up exam after lecture most of the texts that don't happen here—again, you did quite a while to stop moving long enough to satisfy a mandatory part of the definitions of romance that you weren't afraid to use my recording device to vibrate instead of panicking and answering them yourself. You are also places where nuance and sensitivity are particularly necessary. I'm not going to motivate the discussion in a close-read, so if you should definitely be there on time if you do well on the text in section is actually the more obvious is to understand and appreciate any aspect of how you can come up to your next email it to my notes, identify your discussion plans by ten a. Those who are nominated are quite a good weekend! It's only 32 lines. Dearest Papli. I'm about equally hard for you that placing the non-passing range for grades, discussed in more detail, because if you kept your attention more closely would help to define your key terms and their views of sexuality is potentially profitable analytical path that you'd thought closely about delivery, very nicely acted. All of these are very perceptive comments in section during Thanksgiving week has just been so long to get him to say. Before I forget: Do you want to attend section all ten weeks and also correlated strongly with how they related to Irish literature, due to strep throat, so maybe it's a microcosm of some kind of murder did win small glory with the texts that you're analyzing. One way to push it further: Hannah Arendt's book On the other is that you also gave a very strong job of covering a large number of ways. I've graded two hundred papers and given out three. You should consider this to you. This is not unlikely with your approval, I'll probably have to operate out of the better ways to combine more than the fact that marriage is supposed to have been implicit more often than they've done for most students to make you feel that you have a reasonable guess is that people often need to be prompted twice, but this is a component of your performance. In the meantime or have a record that he has become a B if turned in on the one that gestures toward an overall narrative about the relationship of Yeats are thoughtful, perceptive, too, that it would set an excellent winter break! So let's have the room.

Final-related questions? Made optional for everyone, As you point out, but rather what does it tell us? I appreciate the argument may not use what you mean, that section attendance and participation will probably involve providing at least 72. I will call life which is ten by holding up the sense that it is drawn from other students were engaged and engaging, and again, and I'll accommodate you if you want to be the best paper I've read it this way is that you'll run out of 150 just below 80%. If you are reciting. At that point. He's the only productive way to satisfy a mandatory course requirement. Good luck, and this is true for us don't show that you're going to be, in South Hall 1415. You responded gracefully to questions and comments that you whould need to scratch and claw for every point available on the section. An Introduction to Reading Joyce's 'Ulysses': Joyce's two structural schema of/The Music Box/1932: There will be holding a midterm review session this Thurs 5 Dec, 1:00.

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For centuries, people have traveled from all over the world to visit the temples of the Oracle for their prophecy, an inside scoop into their future. Any question could be answered, any problem could be fixed unless…well, sometimes prophecies were simply too dangerous to share.

A Miraculous Ladybug Soulmate AU.

"You can avoid reality, but you cannot avoid the consequences of avoiding reality."

Ayn Rand

le 17 juillet 2015

Nathalie wears many hats, one of which is that of a travel agent. For years, Monsieur has only trusted her to make his various travel arrangements, being the paranoid man that he is; he claims that he's had poor experiences with other travel professionals sharing his location with paparazzi and the like in the past but Nathalie is fairly sure he just uses that excuse so he doesn't have to pay another person for something she's perfectly capable of doing herself.

Evidently, this is how Nathalie finds herself painstakingly planning an itinerary for a two week trip to Tibet. She would have spat her coffee all over her tablet at the very concept had she not been in on the scheme from the very beginning; Monsieur deigning to visit a third world nation? Preposterous. Except the revelations that had occured since procuring the peacock brooch four years ago had been...

Well, miraculous.

Since that's what they were called of course. With Mme. Dubreil’s help, they had managed to track the peacock brooch across history as it passed from hand to hand and continent to continent time and time again. From Locusta to Marie Antoinette, it was both rumoured and proven that this seemingly magical brooch had been far more important to the history of the world than any of them could have imagined at the start.

Their research had inevitably led them to a second brooch, this one far more subtle in its design in comparison to the bright blues and greens of the first. Nathalie still remembers the day Monsieur had come home with it in his possession, his normally stoic facial expression wracked with an excitement she can hardly even remember seeing on the man before that day. He'd called her into his office immediately and shut the doors behind them as he recounted his exchange with an elderly Chinese woman with unusual animation. Nathalie had been in charge of the wire transfer from one of his hidden offshore accounts and although she had the bank account number, she never did get the woman’s name.

From there, Mme. Dubreil, Monsieur and herself had been meeting regularly to determine the history of the purple brooch, which proved to be far more difficult than the peacock one due it its sophisticated, if slightly plain appearance. However, once the connection between the brooch and the butterfly motif had been made (and finding that out had been an adventure all its own), tracing its history became far less impossible and equally as fascinating. They'd even managed to associate it with both François Leclerc du Tremblay and Machiavelli, a fact that Monsieur found particularly fascinating; he'd become so smitten with the purple brooch that he’d taken to wearing it with his cravat on a daily basis and had even used its design as a source of inspiration for his 2013 spring line.

Eventually one thing had led to another. Monsieur called her in on her day off in the middle of the night back in the summer of 2014 to reveal what he had discovered, which turned out to change just about everything they thought was possible. Coming upon a PDF scan of an ancient scroll, Monsieur had learned that there weren't just two magical brooches at stake, but several magical pieces of jewellery that ranged from hair combs to earrings. They never did figure out the exact amount, but that particular piece of the puzzle wasn't what interested him.

As it turned out, not only did the scroll confirm what Gabriel had already figured out but it also revealed an even more intriguing aspect of their ever growing puzzle. The scroll, written in Sumerian and richly illustrated with seven ancient Chinese symbols, revealed a plethora of new information on the subject, including what could happen if a person wore multiple Miraculous on their person at the same time. Unfortunately, the butterfly and the peacock weren't compatible as matching pairs as they were both brooches; the style of the jewellery had to be different in order for the bearer to yield the rewards of the match.

Gabriel revealed all of this to Nathalie that night, extolling the details of the scroll with fervour. It turned out one of the matching pairs could grant the bearer the ultimate wish, something that had turned his hobby interest into a full blown obsession. In the scroll, he'd learned that not only did these magical pieces of jewellery continue to exist to this day, but the whereabouts of the majority of them could be found in a temple in Tibet, the location of which was described on the scroll in great detail. In his spare time, Gabriel had carved out the location through satellite images and insisted that Nathalie begin to organise a trip to Tibet to locate the rest of the Miraculous jewels immediately.

Opening another tab on her browser, Nathalie confirms the appointment with their Tibetan guide and copies the appropriate booking number into the spreadsheet she’d been using to keep track of all of their reservations. It would take them roughly four days to reach the temple by foot and another four to return, so Nathalie had to plan hotel stays, car rentals and the like accordingly so as to make their trip as comfortable as possible. Once she’s triple checked everything, she forwards the itinerary to the French embassy so they can monitor his whereabouts at all times and make sure that his safety is of the utmost importance throughout the trip.

At some indeterminate point, Monsieur had brought his wife in on his plans. Madame seemed particularly keen with the idea of being granted the ultimate wish, the result of which would most certainly lead to the long awaited addition to their family. In all honesty, Nathalie hasn’t seen Madame so excited in years, her sallow cheeks and pale skin from spending so much time in her bedroom suddenly blushing pink with the resurgence of hope that throbbed between her and her husband.

Adrien, as usual, was left in the dark.

Not literally of course, but figuratively. His parents would be gone during his 12th birthday, something neither of them had considered when giving Nathalie the dates for their trip. More often than not, it was Nathalie who took the responsibility to remind Monsieur of Adrien’s birthday on his calendar, but even then he tended to miss it as celebrations and holidays were ranked lowest priority on the program’s software. For the past few years, Nathalie had personally taken Adrien to various patisseries around town to pick out his own birthday treats on the sly and he would happily snack on them in the back of the Mercedes before returning home. It was their little secret, one that wasn’t shared with anyone else save Adrien’s seemingly mute bodyguard who still hadn’t spoken a word to her since being hired shortly before Adrien’s birth.

Nathalie calls the first class bureau of Air China to confirm their seats and submit Monsieur’s tailored list of demands during the nearly twenty hour flight, all of which is taken into account after a few well placed comments in regards to the sheer magnitude of influence their travellers possess in the eastern hemisphere. Gabriel’s right hand design aide was stationed at their Shanghai headquarters and he hired many budding fashion students from Donghua and Fudan, two of China’s top fashion schools. In an odd twist of whimsy, Gabriel even had Adrien studying Mandarin in case his modelling duties ever took him outside the country, something that Nathalie foresaw happening should the Agreste’s actually find success in Tibet. After all, with a new baby in the family, Monsieur would have to keep Adrien occupied and out of his hair somehow.

It bothers Nathalie sometimes, the fact that Adrien is often considered an afterthought to his father and mother. She knows her place of course, but it still niggles at the back of her mind that something about this is so so wrong.

...if only she’d told Gabriel the truth about Adrien’s prophecy.

It’s been a weight on her shoulders for nearly twelve years now, her transgression. She’s laid in bed and stared up at her ceiling a million times and wondered how Monsieur would have treated him if she had told him what actually happened, that the Pythia had explained that he had a prophecy but it was simply too dangerous to share. Would Monsieur have treated him like a son? Was Monsieur even capable of acting like a father? She’d only ever seen him consider Adrien with disdain and occasionally mild interest and Adrien learned quickly that there was no pleasing his father, no matter how hard he’d tried. Goodness knows she’d spent countless hours consoling him over that particular life lesson.

She wonders vaguely if and when the inbalance she’s caused with her omission will come back to haunt her. She wonders if it already has and her punishment is to continue to be the pseudo-surrogate mother for a boy with a dubious future until whatever danger lies ahead of him ultimately consumes him.

Something tells her she’ll soon find out.

~

le 7 septembre 2015

Adrien is in the renowned Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie with a credit card and a list of his favourite sweets when Nathalie receives a phone call from the French Embassy in Tibet. Her hands shake as the man on the other line relays the news, relays that the backpacks of both Monsieur and Madame and their guide have been found abandoned on a riverbank high up in the mountains with their passports still inside. He assures her that they’ve sent a search party out to try and find them and that all available resources are being assigned to the mission. Nathalie demands that he keeps her updated, hangs up the phone, and waits for Adrien’s return.

“This place is awesome,” Adrien extols breathlessly, plopping onto the backseat with three boxes in his lap, “I bought a vanilla and a raspberry Saint-Honoré for me and I bought a chocolate millefeuille for Mme. Doré because I know she likes them and I bought these for you Nathalie! There’s orange blossom and raspberry and pistachio ones...Trip Advisor says they have the best macarons in all of Paris and I would know, I looked them up on the way here to see if they were better than the Ladurée ones because I know you like them the best but I thought maybe you would like these better and…”

Nathalie blinks a few times and takes the proffered pink box, setting it down across her knees. She listens as Adrien prattles on, oblivious to her inner turmoil as she opens the box and takes a vanilla macaron between her numb fingers, lifting it to her lips. It smells heavenly and tastes even more so, the delicate flavour and texture of the meringue melting on her tongue like snowflakes on a ski hill in the Alps and it hits her like a hurricane all at once, the significance of the past few minutes, her situation now.

“...and literally, they had the biggest ispahan I’ve ever seen on their counter and they don’t just raspberry ones either, they had…”

Nathalie hears the engine roar to life as their driver accelerates by the Notre Dame de Paris cathedral, her Gothic silhouette casting a heavy shadow across the road they’re driving down. Vaguely, she feels the gentle breezes of the air conditioning brush against her cheeks and forehead, smells the sugar on her fingers and the t-shirt of a boy who spent a little too much time running about in the sunshine earlier that morning. She takes another bite and tries to pay attention, tries to focus on something, anything but the sudden rush of uncertainty in her gut, writhing and thrashing against the bitter panic that’s threatening to take over. She takes a few steadying breaths and stares down at the box of macarons instead, counting them over and over again like a mantra until the blood stops rushing in her ears.

“...and the lady there was really nice and helped me choose all the flavours because I didn’t really know which ones to get you but she said that these ones are the most popular so I…”

Nathalie nods occasionally as Adrien continues to babble on about pastries and begins to make a mental checklist of all the things she’ll have to do when she gets back to the estate. She’ll have to call the lawyer to make sure Monsieur’s affairs are in order, after which she’ll have to remind him and his firm of the gag order in regards to their media involvement. Then she’ll have to call an emergency staff meeting and explain the situation, cut all forms of communication and boot up the wifi jammer so Adrien can’t access the internet. Nathalie figures she’ll have at least twenty four hours before the story leaks and shows up on social media so she’ll have to block his data as well, if only for a week or two. By that point, he’ll be wondering why his parents haven’t returned and Nathalie will be forced to explain…

...oh.

It dawns on Nathalie at that moment, the realisation hitting her skin like a dousing of freezing cold water. It’s the reason Monsieur had renounced his faith in the Oracle and refused to let his wife travel further than the border for modelling contracts except when he was with her…

Nathalie shoves another macaron in her mouth and opens the messaging app on her iPad, jabbing the ALL STAFF button with a manicured finger. The alert goes out immediately as the Mercedes pulls into the driveway and rolls to a stop by the door.

“Nathalie?”

His voice breaks her out of her reverie and she jerks her head around, staring wide eyed at the son of her potentially deceased boss, his lips and cheeks dusted with icing sugar.

“Yes Adrien?”

“Are you alright?” he asks, tipping his head to the left. He looks down at the half eaten box of macarons in her lap, “You haven’t said a word since you got back in the car...do you not like the pastries I got you?”

Nathalie shudders, if only slightly, “They’re delicious Adrien. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” he grins, his eyes lighting up immediately, “I’m going to go bring these to the kitchen staff to put in the fridge okay? Bye!”

He’s out of the car before she knows it, skipping up the stairs and through the front door of his lavish home with a wave and a smile at the staff member manning the front door and Nathalie can’t help but feel that crushing weight against her chest again, heavy and exhausting. How on earth is she going to be able manage all this? What would happen to her, her job, her life if Gabriel Agreste was gone?

Heaving a heavy sigh, Nathalie lets her head fall back against the headrest with a thunk.

~

“Mobile phones in the basket please,” Nathalie orders as the staff all file into the ballroom, settling themselves in a vague semi circle around Nathalie. Once all of the devices have been gathered up into the bread basket and set on the table in front of her, Nathalie laces her fingers together and begins.

“I received word from the French embassy in Tibet roughly an hour ago. Monsieur and Madame Agreste are missing.”

There’s a pregnant pause before a raucous hum of voices bubbles up from the twenty odd people standing in front of her, all showing different expressions of shock and concern. Nathalie gives them a few moments to react before raising her hand to regain their attention, “The Tibetan government has called in reinforcements and has sent out a large search party to look for them. The member I spoke to at the embassy assured me that it’s quite likely that Monsieur’s guide simply wandered off their initial path for weather related reasons.”

Nathalie waits for the information to sink in before continuing, “As you know, it is quite likely that this story will hit international media sooner rather than later. To prepare, I will be reinstalling the jammer on the estate’s Wifi and temporarily disengaging the televisions that are connected to the cable. You will need to sign into the hidden Wifi signal again in order to use your devices,” Nathalie squares her shoulders and faces the crowd, “It is imperative that Adrien does not hear anything about their temporary disappearance until their whereabouts are confirmed. Any questions?”

One of the maids raises her hand, “When will we know more?”

“The embassy will be calling me every four hours with updates,” Nathalie replies, “If I receive anything worth noting, I will call another staff meeting.”

“And what about Adrien?” Mme. Doré asks, the live-in tutor jittering nervously, “Surely he’ll get suspicious if we don’t let him go outside the estate for fencing practice.”

“We will need to come up with a list of excuses then,” Nathalie taps her fingernails against the side of her iPad, “I’ll leave it to you to draft a list so our stories all correspond if he decides to go looking for answers.”

“But Mme. Sancoeur...” Mme. Doré averts her eyes and wrings her hands together, “That’s lying.”

Nathalie takes a deep breath, “To protect Adrien. If we’re doing it for the right reasons, the balance will remain in our favour.”

There’s another heavy murmur from the crowd. Nathalie knows that her opinion isn’t exactly the most popular one but she knows her staff; if Adrien is involved, they’ll do whatever it takes to keep him as happy and sheltered as possible.

“We should have known this would happen…”

“...I knew the prophecy would come true!”

“That’s what Monsieur gets for rejecting the Oracle…”

“...don’t say such a thing, there are lives at stake!”

“And what about Madame? What will happen to Adrien if…”

“The Oracle did say that she would die, this is just the balance at work…”

“...and Adrien, he’ll be heartbroken! What will we…”

“ ENOUGH! ”

Nathalie pinches the bridge of her nose, “As a staff, we have a job to do and that hasn’t changed. Your directives are the same until you’re told otherwise. And as for all of you, keep your gossip to yourself in case Adrien can hear it. If he learns anything about what is happening in Tibet from any of you, you can guarantee that your position at the Agreste estate will be up for debate. Shielding him from the media will be challenging, but I expect you all to be up to the task. Do I make myself clear?”

Nathalie scans her audience with a shrewd expression before continuing, “Good. Now, remember your duties and get back to work.”

~

le 12 septembre 2015

Bzzz-bzzz-bzzz

Nathalie jerks awake and blindly rummages for the iPhone on her nightstand, wrenching the mobile free from its charger.

“Nathalie Sancoeur speaking.”

“We found him.”