#wow my life is so structured and i am so productive so this must mean i am being healthy and normal -> uh oh

[ironmanstan]

.

[whmp]

in case you're just here for the good stuff, i'll be tagging my personal ramblings as #whmpersonal so you can avoid em BUT this is tangentially related to the game project i'm working on, so stick around i guess? tl;dr: i'll probably make a more coherent post where I ask ppl for help (especially artists). also, i'll be more attentive and answer your asks faster, hopefully. : )

anyway, after a bit of a "review" of my creative process (and i guess my uhh way of living in general?) i've noticed that it's a huge clusterfuck. and that it has been since i was a kid. without some external pressure or an imposed structure (like deadlines, parents or strongly worded emails) i just sort of relied on random surges of productivity to carry me through life. on one hand, it's kinda fun: most of the time i'm not doing anything valuable and then all of a sudden i condense weeks worth of work into several sleepless days during which i feel like An Immortal Unstoppable God. lighting bolts shoot from my fingertips, my eyes glow in the dark, and my caffeine-to-blood volume ratio is hovering around 1.

unfortunately, it's not really sustainable. the "not doing anything valuable" stage that takes up most of my time is not me just chilling. it's me freaking the fuck out about not doing anything despite wanting to and finding myself just. not able to. not to mention that some things just need minor, but constant maintenance - at best i'd just forget about them and face the consequences later on. at worst i'd be acutely aware of them while procrastinating, clueless as to what's wrong with me.

couple that with a couple other unhealthy habits, a microscopic attention span and wow, i fit like all the criteria for adhd. i gotta admit i was super sceptical at first when doing any research, since, well. how the fuck am i even supposed to gain any unbiased insight into this. anyway, i spent a stupid amount of money on an official diagnosis (seriously why is this not covered by insurance gsygx), it took a million meetings and tests and i get a piece of paper that says i have add and deserve some medication.

this has also made me realize that i'm spread out super thin when it comes to projects. i love every single one of them, but im going to have to be a bit more realistic in terms of what can remain in "when it's done" limbo and what needs a bit of a push. the whump game is unique in that it's not just me who wants this to eventually get released. so! what this means is that it needs a proper, project structure. not a .txt on my desktop where i keep a backlog of missing features. but must important of all, it needs ~*people*~. this is the first time i took a step back and estimated how much time everything would take me and yeahhhh i was being very optimistic when i said "playable build in 2023" lol. i've been hesitant to ask for help bc 1. i'm stubborn : ) 2. im bad at coordinating stuff 3. i can't pay ppl - like seriously, there is one person making a model for me (if you're reading this sorry i didn't ask if you want a tag but this is just a personal post where i keep yapping) and it's looking so clean and professional,,, you gotta sell this as an asset.

HOWEVER im getting past the mentality of "i gotta do as much as i can by myself". and also taking meds so that im able to focus on tasks (both gamedev-related and others) and actually pay attention to what im doing. which is great news for development! and answering asks! ill be making a dev post where i tag all the ppl and will also ask for help.

that's it. im on a train rn and bored out of my mind so this is why this post exists, sorry. anyway check out this screenshot of a moment in clone high that i relate to deeply.

[keepingthehopealive]

Therapy this week was much more productive. But of course that means it's harder in a lot of ways. Sometimes it feels like a lose lose situation.

We talked a lot about my dog. Owning a rescue whos anxious and needy is hard work. I knew what I was getting into, and it's still hard. I don't regret it by any means but it's good to get support and to process it because it can also trigger my core beliefs (I'm not good enough, I'm failing, im weak).

We processed the depression and she is pushing me to try to stop quantifying or qualifying the depression. She also is encouraging me to try to add structure and I think just get a sense of what is happening for me day to day as I can be vague about it. She redirects and tried to reframe "bad enough" and always says it doesn't matter if it's bad enough or not and that it is real and we can validate that.

I said that it feels like she says that I can just chose to not be having a hard time or get out of the depression. We cycle through a similar conversation of her asking me what it would be like if I wasn't depressed or struggling the way I am, if I allowed myself to even imagine feeling better, if I even entertained the thought as a possibility. She always says it's her tough love and that she's trying to challenge me because she can and I need it. I said it feels invalidating and I hear it as her saying I'm chosing this and that if I just change my mindset it'll all be better. It also feels like she's saying that I am scared to get better and feel differently since this has been my life for so long, and although there is some truth to that and I acknowledge that fear and anxiety, it fuels the belief that I must be choosing this and doing this to myself, and that leads to I must be doing this all for attention and I'm weak.

L said she wants me to come to the exact opposite conclusion. She said she knows I don't feel worthy of feeling better, I don't feel that I'm deserving or good enough to allow any positive change. She refuted that she believes or is saying that I'm doing this to myself, that I don't want it or that I could easily chose to be different or better.

That led to her asking if I've ever felt deserving of positive or deserving of better. Basically if I've ever had any glimmer of hope. I just nodded and then she asked if I remember when and I said yes and she immediately somehow put it together and said "when you were working with K (old therapist)" I looked at her and said "wow you're good" because I don't know how she put that together from me barely saying anything. I said it was wrong and unhealthy because I only had hope in the sense that I started to believe that K could help me and we could actually work on some things I never thought I would make any progress with. Maybe it's all idealization at this point but I do still really get stuck feeling like she is the only one that could help me and I fucked it up so I lost that chance. I know both P, K my old psych and L have/had helped and showed that but it's never been the same as K. There's obviously a lot of factors that play into that, my age, her therapy style, the length and intensity of our relationship...so much.

I did talk about how horrible the memories and triggers have been for weeks now regarding K especially but also P and Ki (my psych). It is the time of year of the termination and all that ensued after that, the time of year k and I originally started working together and obviously P and I also starting to work together (and Ki actually) so that's a part of it. L and I also had that semi recent conversation about our relationship and attachment which we have not continued since she went away for a week. I cannot bring myself to bring it back up since I really don't even know where I want the conversation to go. She did comment that she believes K and Ki believed in me and that as horrible as the terminations were she thinks they did them from a place of caring and love in the end. I said I did not feel that and started to cry a bit. She just validated that it's ok I don't agree or feel that way.

Then it was the end so we just wrapped up. Overall a much better session.

[enchantednightingales]

RJC’s review of: A Number

I’d like to start by apologising for the continued use of the almost-pun “A Number” but in my defence... Caryl Churchill started it.

There are A Number of things one can look forward to in Polly Findlay’s production of “A Number” at The Bridge theatre and just three of them are Colin Morgan. Fangirls can delight that Colin’s stealth stage door exit skills have FINALLY been put to their stunning first use on stage. Colin plays three different characters with about six to eight costume changes in the space of an hour. He disappears and reappears completely anew and it is magnificently seamless.

When I first read the play I had A Number of concerns. Maybe I’m an old fashioned kind of gal but I prefer sentences to begin AND end. I’m greedy like that. I found the play far too difficult a read and I was somewhat apprehensive about the production. Fortunately, I see the text benefits from performance as Roger Allam and Colin Morgan breathe something reminiscent of natural into those lines. I tip my imaginary hat to them as well, remembering that stuff must be tricky, the majority of these lines don’t follow a natural structure and tripping on the lines would weaken the effect. 

I am not completely sold on this effect to be honest. It cries device to me and distances this tale from pertinence.  “She was one of those people, when they say there has been a person under a train” is a good example. WHO EVER says that? Ever? Nobody. I’m a great lover of words but apparently I don’t like them in this particular order. I never was one for the abstract. Be prepared for a little abstract.

Colin’s nasal and fumbling B2 makes a lot more sense in person than I could have ever anticipated when reading. A Number is obviously not quite my cup of tea shall we say but it is becoming an increasingly tolerable piece thanks to the efforts of this production. It’s an intriguing story. A failed father seeks a fresh start, sends his son into care but not before cloning him, as “tribute”. Written just as cloning became a legitimate thing it’s pushing at big relevant buttons but for my money it’s a paper thin approach. It’s definitely a conversation piece though, a trigger of questions, forcing you to think and figure the thing out. If you can be bothered to meet it half way and you kinda have to.

A Number is another “sins of the fathers” type narrative in which Salter, the father, cannot break the cycle of his own ineptitude and selfishness. A price his sons inevitably will have to pay. I won’t give that price away but it makes for a sad little story. Some emphasis on little. When it could have been bigger (that’s what she said). 

A Number hits a number of notes in its short duration. It’s kinda funny, it’s even kinda cute (maybe that’s just Colin), it’s kinda sad, kinda creepy, kinda cruel and ultimately super dark.

Roger Allam and Colin Morgan pull out of the bag a rather lovely and truly unforgettable chemistry as father and sons. I’m not quite used to seeing Allam as the “little man”. His appearance is entirely ordinary and as a character he’s far from powerful or noble. For a man usually possessed of scene stealing charisma, Allam fearlessly relished in the grim and pitiful. He’s squirming from the beginning to the end. Trying to contain the anger of his first son, trying to contain the disappointment of his second son and in the final act, trying to salvage some scrap of meaning or importance from one beautifully blasé last (of 19) hopes. Allam’s physicality when B1 is on stage is intriguing to watch as he screams fear and seeks distance. His tone when B2 is on stage almost convinces you of wholesomeness and genuine love. Salter is quite an understated journey but enjoy as Allam hits every single note of it in true masterclass fashion.

One could marvel for A Number of hours about how amazing the stage is for this production. The first night, when the room completely changed angle, my eyes widened like a kid in a Colin Morgan-themed Candy store! WOW. It messed with my mind so much that I was second guessing everything. What they can do nowadays is awesome. I still don’t quite get how it all works and where exactly Colin escapes to in-between but... that’s the magic of theatre for you. 

I’m also a big fan of the 90s kinda feel. The stack tables, the CD tower, the TV stand, the landline phone! It’s soooooo 90s I keep expecting to hear Hanson’s MMM Bop playing upstairs or something. I feel like I’m a teenager again, at my friends’ house and it’s all kicking off between her hot older brother and his step-dad again. Flashbacks.... 

My only criticism with the whole set change thing is the decision to blast some crazy sounds at you for their duration. It’s like watching a crappy horror movie with jump scares that don’t lead anywhere. It’s not particularly satisfying and ones patience for it tends to wear thin. Especially when everyone around you likes to gasp and yelp every time it happens. Personally, not sure why nobody just took my advice of playing Bjork’s “Army of Me” in-between the set changes. I’ve only got an entire playlist of suggestions but whatever. You know better. I suppose it might wake the odd theatre sleeper.

Can I talk about Colin Morgan now? 

I feel like A Number is a bit of a showcase of everything Colin can do (and do better than anyone else). He’s got the skills for comedy, for brutality, for tears and not to mention his signature LIMITLESS energy. As his self-elected number one fangirl I will quite happily sit there and bask in the pride as he totally nails this whole thing.

Colin’s three characters are all quite different. One might easier refer to them as Benjamin, Leo and... well... Michael. B2 is adorable in his almost whiney tone and sounds possibly too much like Yasmin in “Worldship Humility” accent (for my liking). I keep expecting him to start calling people goat fucking somethings but so far he’s not done it. His twitchy, stiff awkwardness is reminiscent of Benjamin but that’s about it.

B1 isn’t exactly Leo-like, he’s far too efficient for that, he just STRANGELY ENOUGH looks A LOT like him. The hoodie and denim don’t help. He’s got that similar breaking point type edge to him. B1 sounds as serious as he is and for the first time ever, Colin is somewhat unsettling, I don’t blame Roger for keeping his distance. He’s a tad nasty and Colin goes there. Customarily though Colin helps us to “see it human” with a tear or two. As poor B1 just sits there stewing in his own anger, hatred and confusion, lost to a father and lost to himself. It’s a sad tale and Colin sure won’t let you miss the point.

B1 is part of my favourite exchange which involves Salter demonstrating his worst colours when he justifies his actions by claiming B1 was something to be crushed. Representative of the lacking thought and care that can go into the creation of life that is ultimately one of mankind’s most devastating flaws. B2 speaks of being cloned from a speck and says “you threw the rest of me away”. Colin slays me with that line. I am dead now. He killed me. Here I must afford A Number with the compliment that it is effectively unsettling and unpleasant, which is, what I think it was going for. I hope.

Can I talk about Michael now? 

He’s so adorable. Can I just point out SPOILER that Michael is Irish! Even Irish clones are better! Unlike in All My Sons, Colin catches a break and can conclude this show on a happier note, he’s a happy man attune to and accepting of similarities to the likes of apes and lettuces. He’s a purple shirt of sex wearing Maths teacher twenty years away from Netflix and Chill with his pointy eared wife (possibly called Rebecca in my head) and he’s at ease with life, fatherhood and clone-being. I love Michael. When he’s on stage “you can’t help feeling wonderful”.

Dean (Gloria) has a cheerful contender for my heart. Who saw that coming?

After that ridiculous wait we all had to endure while Colin was being all lazy and stuff we finally get some Colin vs Bad Dad on stage again!

PS. Did I mention that Michael is lovely? 

[stonyiscanon]

socially awkward! peter parker x oblivious shit! reader

read: peter has a heart attack every time he talks to you because you’re too pretty and nice oof

lmfao just experimenting some new head canon//writing styles lmk what you guys think 🥺

it’s essentially a crack fic i have no regrets.

Warnings: an excessive amount of exclamation points used, overload of fluff, it might be little TOO crack-y if that’s even possible for me, a confusing amount of POV switches. ok it’s just shitty writing would you please read it.

Words: 4.8k this be a baby fic

Genre: fluffity fluff, idiots to lovers, high school! reader, god just read the title.

my masterlist is here if you want more shit

talk to me! be my friend please im lonely

 peter first meets you when you’re new to midtown and you get sorted into his science class.

you sat in front of him your very first day and yeah he’s been soft™ for you ever since

like no joke the first time he saw your face he freezed up and choked on his banana

‘oh nO NED!!! she’s PRETTY!!’

‘like, REALLY pretty!!! S H I T’

‘um,,... okay ain’t that a good thing you sit behind her in class!! maybe you can ask for her number or something—‘

oh hohohohoho ned my friend,,

N O

ABSOLUTELY NOT

peter parker has spoken to you a total of twenty-two (22) times within the whole year that you’ve been... acquaintances?? classmates?? ….. friends???

and his fat secret crush on you will STAY A SECRET THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

he’ll die before he asks you out or makes a move because there’s no way in hell peter has a chance with you, the beautiful new girl.

‘i mean, she’s not just beautiful too! she’s so smart, and i know that because i can literally see all her notes from behind her and she gets like, basically all A’s, but she doesn’t even know she’s smart and beautiful?? like, she never raises her hand in class even though i know she knows all th-’

you would think ned would be tired of peter’s ‘shit I’m in LOVE’ rants by now, he’s not because we stan supportive friend ned.

hehe little does he know his big fat secret crush may not be,, totally unrequited

👀

oKAY so maybe you have a humongous tiny crush on the dorky cute guy who sits behind you in science class

WHAT ABOUT IT not like he likes you back anyways.

that one time you asked him for a pencil he looked like he was having an aneurysm!! like okay, are you that hideous or—?

(yeah it totally doesn’t hurt at all that the cute guy you like is repulsed by your presence and seems to ignore you and tense up whenever you’re around)

(t o ta ll y) 🤡

yeah y/n kinda dumb in this because the entire student body knows about peter’s (not so secret lmFAO) crush on you

everyone lOwkEy ships it

ned is president of the petery/n shipper fanclub

that may be because he’s the only member in aforementioned fanclub but you two have many supporters outside the fanclub

ned hypes peter up everytime science class comes around and peter gets kinda confident when he walks in the classroom

‘yeah! i got this!! maybe this time i won’t stare at her hair creepily and then run aw-‘

‘hey peter!’

asjkdjejnxHAUXINENEIAIRJBSJS

ABORT NEVERMIND I DONT GOT THIS ASKXISNNDKSN

peters brain has left the building

and he kinda stares at you for a sec and runs off to his seat at the back

hm, yeah he definitely doesn’t like you

you sigh as you take your seat in front of him, trying to ignore how your love for this dork is completely one sided

the entire class wants to throttle both of you

so then for the sake of the cliche and the plot (did you heart that fourth wall break?? nvm i didn’t hear nothin)

gasp group project time??!?!?!?!

dang who could have saw this coming

totally unexpected

wow

peter is half hoping to get you and half DREADING to

because he knows if he gets you he’ll be able to spend time with you but 300% won’t be able to function and will most certainly fail this project

but i mean who cares about grades.

in a plot twist that literally no one saw coming,,,

‘betty and liz, you’ll be doing yours on atomic structure,

and peter and y/n are partners! you’ll be doing...’

oh nO

you’re partnered up with peter!

i mean this is great news you get to stare at his precious face more but you’re basically forcing him to spend time with someone he doesn’t like!!

so you turn around and you give him an apologetic and (cute as FXCK) small smile

meanwhile, peter combusts

one look at your smile and he just knows he’s completely fucked

like he physically uwus so hard he slams his head on the table

‘oh! are.. you okay? i mean, is working with me really going to be that bad?’

awkward laugh to hide the pain,, quick y/n!!

‘nO!! i mean, no, absolutely not that’s not what i- it wasn’t my- i didn’t m-‘

you smile a little sadly this time and say,

‘don’t worry about it, i know you don’t like me. it’s only two weeks anyway. i promise i won’t take much of your time.’

wait. hold up. back up here. wha-? wHO doesn’t like W HO??

‘wait what do you mea-‘

‘don’t worry about it. wanna meet at the library after school to get a head start on this?’

‘uh, yeah. i mean- cowabunga…!’

wat

shit peter has never wanted to die more in his entire life

so he does what any other normal person would do and yEEts out the classroom full speed

leaving you slightly hurt but mostly just confused

peter strolls in the library casually attempting to strain his neck 360 degrees to look for you

he looks like a chicken and also that’s humanly impossible but leave him be he’s iN LOVE

he spots you on one of the study tables. he takes a deep breath,, and walks over

‘hey!! sorry i’m a little late, uh, something… came up haha’

acting like the poor boy didn’t stand outside the library for fifteen minutes thinking about what he was going to say to you

‘no worries!’ you shoot him another one of those painfully adorable smiles and peter wants nothing more but to give that smile a smooch because damn that is a face that deserves smooches

but he also has a tiny feeling that maybe you might not appreciate it if he randomly kissed you out of nowhere

(you would not mind at all but he doesn’t know that)

‘so yeah! ready to compare the wonders of chemistry and motion physics?’ peter says, bending down to snatch his backpack up to the table (effectively hiding his red cheeks)

you snort as you prop your elbows onto the table, resting your head on your hands.

‘the wonders? hm, i really can’t tell whether you’re being serious or not. guess you really are a dork.’

you giggle a little bit before you catch sight of peter looking like a gaping fish. you immediately slam your hands down, perhaps a little too loudly considering you’re in a library, and blurt out,

‘uh, I was.. joking! making a joke, in case, you know, that wasn’t obvious.’ You awkwardly hide your face between your fingers and squeak out a small apology

‘nO! no, no, don’t worry about it. yeah, I am a dork, so… yeah, i’m not offended, or anything. uh- just, yeah, don’t worry about it.’

well, that ruined the flow of conversation peter was so desperate to keep up with

none of you speak for a bit, opting to look around the very interesting library walls instead, until peter clears his throat and brings up motion physics again

yeah! this will be fine. all you have to focus on is science, and NOT peter’s very soft kissable lips and how good he looks in his light green coloured sweater

huh

oh no

 desperately attempting to clear your mind, you try and focus on what he’s saying instead

it’s just SCIENCE, y/n. focus on the SCIENCE.

this distraction just-concentrate-on-the-work technique works for about the next hour or so as you guys study and work on this project

everything is going great!

you two have an organised google doc full of research and a finished introduction! you’re being extremely productive!

both of you are doing an amazing job at hiding your mutual (except none of you know it’s mutual) attraction!

so as you walk out the library beside peter some time later, you’re smiling softly, because even if your massive crush isn’t reciprocated, you and peter can maybe at least be friends by the end of this, right?

he didn’t even look like he detested you as much as usual today

maybe that’s because he was pretty much forced into cooperating with you because of this project, but you even caught him smiling at you today, so he must be warming up to you

which is great news, of course

peter swallows down his fear and the excessive amount of spit that is coating his tongue and turns to you

‘so, this was really fun’

you tilt your head, mildly horrified at his words

‘we need to stage you an intervention if a science project is something you classify as ‘fun’’

‘no, i mean, the science was kinda boring. spending time with you was really fun. ….right?’

oh good, he isn’t actually a complete monster who does science for fun

(he totally is but you don’t need to know that)

‘yeah! hanging out was really fun, even if we had to spend that time doing work’

you shudder and cringe when you mention ‘work’, because there are much more interesting things you’d rather be doing with peter

👀

‘yep.’

‘yeeep.’

‘so, we should meet up again to work on this… project. right?’ you’re shifting your weight and darting your eyes across the floor, desperately avoiding peter’s gaze.

‘yeah!!’

oof maybe that was a little too enthusiastic. maybe you didn’t notice?

‘i mean, yeah… yeah, totally. sounds… chill.’

oh god that’s worse isn’t it

‘great!’

cue awkward silence

‘so… um… can I maybe have your number?’

you stare blankly at him trying to conceal your excitement because did PETER PARKER just ask for YOUR number?!?!?!

oh no why aren’t you saying anything crapcrapcrap this is peter’s first time asking for ANYONE’S number did he mess up oh no he messed up didn’t he.

‘you know, for the project!!!!! haha!!!!’

oh. of course he wouldn’t actually want your number

*sigh these oblivious fucks I stg i’m the one who’s actually writing this and I want to throttle them*

‘oh… yeah, no problem! um, here’s my number’

‘cool! i’ll text you then!’

from peter p [12:48]

Hey y/n!! Um this is Peter btw. Peter Parker. From science class.

to peter p [12:49]

hey peter!

from peter p [12:49]

So if it’s cool w u do you want to meet up at my place? For the project haha, just figured a change of scenery might be nice. The library can get a little bit boring sometimes.

to peter p [12:49]

yeah sounds cool just send me ur address and i’ll be over after skl tdy if that’s ok

from peter p [12:50]

Yep awesome see u then

to peter p [12:50]

see u! :))

 that smiley face almost makes his heart burst god he’s so whipped for you.

then the panic kicks in.

‘OHMYGOD Y/N Y/L/N IS COMING OVER.’

peter spends like three hours making sure the apartment is SPOTLESS.

spends like half an hour trying to decide whether he should take down all the Star Wars memorabilia down from his walls

like, he doesn’t want you to think he’s a DORK.

(too late peter)

but then ultimately keeps them up, partly because shit you’re coming in like 5 minutes he doesn’t have time for this

but also, you’re a nice person! you surely won’t make fun of him for having a knockoff replica of the death star in his room.

hopefully

oh god if you make fun of him for being a Star Wars nerd he will break down in tears HE HAS TO TAKE THEM DOWN

*ding*

fuck

peter stands up from his spinney chair abruptly and scrambles towards front door.

he spent some time this morning with Aunt May for girl advice and nothing really came out of that except a very traumatizing safe sex talk and some teasing that he will never be able to erase from his memory.

he takes a fast detour and quickly stops in front of the bathroom mirror on his way to open the door, desperately trying to tame the mop of curls and his head.

did I put on deodorant this morning? crap I brushed my teeth right?

*ding*

FUCK

peter stops in front of the door, takes a deep breath and-

‘hey!’ a strangled greeting comes out of his throat but hopefully you don’t notice how nervous he is.

you don’t, because this is oblivious shit!reader

‘hi peter!’

peter is suddenly very aware of how long you have been standing outside.

‘oH! sorry, um come in!!’ he says, opening the door wider and welcoming you in with (overly?) enthusiastic arms.

‘yeah! make yourself at home and everything. you want a drink or something?’

‘water would be nice.’

peter sprints to the kitchen to get you some ICE COLD water in his favourite mug.

peter parker’s apartment is covered with cosy furniture and photos of him and another middle aged woman. half those photos are him and that woman smiling brightly into the camera.

there’s a photo that’s nicely framed above the mantle that shows a young peter beaming in front of a birthday cake, with that same woman and another unknown middle aged man smiling down at him. the photo is clearly old and crumpled, even with the frame around it.

peter looks so happy in that photo…

huh. baby peter is just as adorable as he is now.

you jump away from the photo when you hear his footsteps coming back into the living room. something about the photo seemed emotional, personal. it just didn’t seem like something you should be looking at.

peter comes back clutching two mugs and hands one to you.

‘nice place!’

‘oh, thanks… yeah my Aunt isn’t home right now, she’s downtown meeting some friends, so we have the place to ourselves……’

‘so we can study uninterrupted.’ he says.

oh of course, studying!! yep that’s exactly where your mind went when peter said the apartment was empty aHaH.

peter’s room is a little less adult than the rest of his apartment, flooded with polaroids of him and Ned, with Star Wars posters on the walls.

you ignore the pang of jealousy that you feel when you spot a photo of MJ and peter grinning in front of a bowling alley.

so for the next two hours you two are in peter’s room… studying vigorously.

you would be 100% lying if you said you weren’t disappointed only studying happened.

the weird thing is???

every time you would look down at your textbook to explain something about periodic motion peter seemed to be looking at you when you looked up?

well, looking at you isn’t very weird, looking at someone while they’re talking is just basic manners. but when you looked back he would snap his eyes straight back to his own textbook, nodding and wordlessly agreeing with whatever you had just said.

maybe it’s just your imagination but the way he looked at you, it’s almost a loving, caring gaze.

oh god who are you kidding, it’s just your brain and imagination playing tricks on you.

you’re alone with peter parker in his bedroom!! these things are going to happen!

‘hey you want to take a break? we’ve been going at this for a whole hour now.’ peter says, craning his neck to take a look at the clock on the wall.

‘has it really been a whole hour?’ you lean back in your chair looking up at the ceiling.

‘yeah okay. let’s have a small break then.’

peter picks up both of your mugs and heads off to the kitchen, groaning slightly when he stretches his legs out for the first time in an hour.

*a/n: apologies in advance to those with nut allergies*

he comes back with both your mugs refilled with (water for you, gatorade for peter) and a small bag of almonds for you to snack on.

‘oh hey! almonds are my study snack of choice too!’

‘yeah, i know’ peter says carelessly, scrolling down his phone.

‘i don’t like almonds all that much, but i bought a few packs this morning on the way to school.’

hm,, wHat

‘if… you don’t like almonds why would you get them for me?’

‘because you like almonds.’

blink.

b l i n k

it takes a bit of time for peter to realise what just came out of his mouth.

‘i meAn! I’M NOT A STALKER I SWEAR. i just see you at school sometimes and you always have a small pack of these to snack on whenever you’re doing work so i thought,, you know, since we’re doing WORK, i should buy some for you… so you won’t get hungry!!!’ he’s wailing nonsensical excuses and apologies by now.

huh.

peter parker knows that you snack on almonds when you study, and bought a pack for you even though he doesn’t like them at all.

maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

you tear apart the packaging and stuff an almond in your mouth, your traitorous lips slowly threatening to curl into a huge smile.

(despite how much you fight against it, you end up with a slightly demonic looking huge smile on your face, which you attempt to hide by stuffing more almonds in your mouth)

(you now look like a chipmunk)

(but a cute one!!!!)

meanwhile peter is trying to hide the feeling of humiliation by resting his face in his hands, because he literally just exposed himself. he will not be able to take it if he looks back up at your face and you’re laughing at him for this stupid crush.

to his surprise, he does not look up to find you mocking his love for you, but instead, he finds you with a mouth full of almonds, struggling to chew and swallow them all without looking like a disgusting fool.

oh.

that’s kinda cute.

after a good five minutes of you trying to force like 10 almonds down your esophagus,  you clear your throat and awkwardly blurt out a ‘thank you’

‘for the almonds! it’s cute how you bought them for me because you knew how much i like to snack on them while i study. that’s really sweet of you. i guess you really don’t hate me all that much, huh?’ the last sentence comes out teasingly, a playful smile gracing your lips, but instead of uwu-ing over your cute smile, peter’s just confused.

‘why would i hate you?’ he says, his eyebrows laced together in confusion.

‘well, i always kinda got the impression that you didn’t like me… all that much? i never really knew why. hey, why did you hate me so much before this? if i accidentally did something at the start of the year that pissed you off, i’m sorry.’

your playful smile fades a little bit as you see peter basically collapse on himself just due to sheer GRIEVANCE.

‘WHY WOULD YOU THINK I HATED YOU?’ peter yells out, probably annoying the neighbours with how fucking loud he is, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care right now.

‘you… didn’t?’ you say, now becoming just as confused as peter.

he shakes his head aggressively, bringing his fingers up to his temples.

‘but… you always seemed so jumpy around me! and you would never really talk to me, and that one time i asked you for a pencil, you looked like you were dying or something! i always just thought you didn’t like me!’

oh

my

god

peter doesn’t know whether he should be laughing or crying.

‘that’s not because I HATED YOU!! that’s because- i mean- i always thought-’ he’s still yelling and at this point one of the neighbours are definitely going to come knocking to complain, but peter still doesn’t care, because he’s currently having an existential crisis.

ohmygod all this time my CRUSH thought I HATED HER because I couldn’t function like a normal human being in front of her because of how much I liked her until i gave her some ALMONDS what is wrong with me? what kind of entity that controls the universe could hate me so much to pull THIS kind of sick prank on me?

‘wait if you didn’t hate me why would you always act so weird in front of me?’

‘BECAUSE-’ peter tangles his fingers into his hair, and he kicks his chair, sending it halfway across his room from frustration.

‘how could you possibly think I hated you??? how could you possibly think ANYONE could hate you??? you’re single handedly the only good person in this godforsaken school full of IDIOTS and BULLIES! nobody could ever hate you, y/n, and certainly not ME!’

perhaps he is using an excessive amount of hand gestures, but it gets his point across.

‘wha-? what do yo-?’

‘wHat are you TALKING ABOUT?’ you say, slowly turning just as frustrated as peter.

‘if there’s ANYONE that’s decent in this ‘godforsaken school full of idiots’ it would be YOU, peter parker!! nobody would just pay attention to what I EAT so I wouldn’t get HUNGRY during a study session oKaY!! you’re so CONFUSING! every time I accept the fact that you don’t like me back you pull this bullshit, essentially making me rethink ALL MY FEELINGS!’ you say, going through the room (stepping over the toppled chair), just to jab a finger onto peter’s chest.

suddenly both of you are aware of your flushed cheeks and your close proximity.

‘wha- WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?’ peter basically shrieks, and you would not be surprised if all of New York managed to hear that scream.

your cheeks darken as you awkwardly step back from him, realising that you accidentally outed yourself.

‘um- i mean,’ you stumble on the fallen chair as you desperately walk backwards with your hands behind your back to avoid peter’s piercing gaze.

*you’re not good at confrontation okay*

‘you like me?? wait wait, you like ME?’ you frown a little as you look at peter’s incredulous expression.

‘well yeah, you don’t have to rub it in like that, I know you don’t like me back.’ You mumble, looking away.

‘don’t like yo- OH MY GOD!’

this time peter stalks all the way across the room, looking you dead straight in the eye.

‘you better not be joking with me, y/n.’

you squeak out a small ‘no’ or something like that because you can’t really focus with peter looking down at you like that.

‘you mean to tell me, my stupid fat, nervous crush on you was mistaken for HATRED, and all this time I’ve been thinking I have no chance with you, but you’ve been crushing on me too all this time?’ his words come out jumbled, and a little fast, but you can decipher the general meaning.

peter parker likes you… too.

oh GOD WAT

he clears his throat, biting his lip and you can just tell he’s about to apologise, because peter’s a complete angel who probably doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.

‘um- uh, y- oomph!’

and in this shocking turn of events, you execute the only spontaneous thing you’ve ever done in your life and pray that it ends up well.

you lean forward and press your lips to peter’s, hoping to whatever superior being there is that this was a good decision.

spoiler alert: it was

peter.exe has shut down because all of a sudden your lips are against his and oh wow this is so much better than all those times he’s imagined it happening because it’s actually happening now.

your hands find their way to peter’s curls that he was trying so hard to get under control an hour ago but now he can’t remember why he doesn’t like his hair if it’s just going to be tugged on by you like this from now on.

he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer to him, pretty much pressing his body against yours.

not that you’re complaining.

and god if peter died from suffocation right now that would be a heavenly way to go, and he would be a-ok with dying if it meant finally being in your arms.

you pull away from peter, both of you slightly panting before you burst out in giggles, resting your head and letting it fall on peter’s shoulder.

‘oh my god, we’re such idiots, aren’t we?’

peter hums in agreement before lifting your chin up to kiss you again.

 bonus: boyfriend! peter

definitely still stares at you in science class except now whenever you catch him staring he just shoots you a lazy grin

because yEa he has FULL RIGHTS to stare at you now because you’re his GIRLFRIEND.

you find out he’s spiderman pretty much immediately let’s be real this boy is not the best at hiding secrets

especially from his GIRLFRIENDS whomst he loves VERY MUCH.

this boy also gives you anxiety attacks whenever you see spiderman on the news saving people, getting hurt and shit, but he understands.

sends you a text before and after he gets in the suit whenever he can.

most certainly uses his spidey-powers for things they were not intended to be used for.

to visit his girlfriend so she can give him cuddles at any time why what were you guys thinking about hMmmMMMmmmM?

likes to show you off but also gets very blushy and shy about PDA

pretty much had a seizure the first time you held hands.

ned almost fainted when he heard the news (aka peter rushed to call him the second you left that night you kissed because these bitches are very gossipy)

peter parker is the ultimate clingy boyfriend.

……

and you love it.

your science teacher no longer puts you in the same group or partners you guys up now though.

because now you can’t study together, you literally can’t keep your hands off each other.

sometimes when peter is feeling ~particularly clingy he just nuzzles into the crook of your neck during lunch, and pulls you to him so you’re pretty much on his lap.

and MJ is just like yall r disgusTING

right in front of my salad.

in conclusion, peter parker loves you and you love him.

it’s honestly kind of sickening,

but you love that too.

[devnicolee]

The Chosen Ones (3)

Warnings: Slow Burn, angst

Word Count: 10,181

A/N: We are stuck inside with nothing to do... figured I would pass the time with writing. Enjoy! 

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

“That was a productive meeting, yes?" She asked the stoic man next to her as she gathered the mess of documents in front of her. 

Her eyes closed briefly as exhaustion from a day's worth of meetings settled in her bones. She desired nothing more than to fall into bed and take a nap before her call with her brother to recap the day.

She loathed admitting when her brother was right but even she couldn't deny that he was right about this. She had a certain knack for this... politics and compromise. He forced her out of her comfort zone, out of the space she knew but she was happy he did. She actually enjoyed the work and it didn't hurt that her first assignment came with certain... perks.

"I think it is beginning to look like something we could work with. The King will be amenable to our requests, yes?"

"I am speaking with him tonight and will raise your concerns then. None of which are unreasonable, even if they are a bit prickly," she teased. "We can discuss his feedback and do any fine-tuning tomorrow."

He nodded. "Um Asha, do you have plans prior to dinner?"

"Just a nap, I think," she chuckled. "But I could be persuaded to do something different if my host has other ideas."

"Well, I was hoping we could go for a walk, perhaps through the market. So you can be among the people for a bit."

"That sounds lovely."

The journey down the mountain was swift, a quick carriage ride. The Lodge looked larger than life from the valley, a true lesson in how perspective changes everything. She looked up to see bridges criss-crossing their way between the mountains and structures, giving the Jabari faster and easier access to every inhabited part of the mountains. She marveled at the engineering. She was not as smart as Shuri when it came to technology but she could hold her own in the lab and spent a great deal of time there at night with her sister to avoid the other scientists. She understood the skill it took to create and erect those types of structures. It reminded her how little she truly understood about the Jabari, grateful for the opportunity to really learn about their daily lives. Her eyes lowered to the small shops surrounding her on the ground.

Asha drew a few stares as she walked alongside M’Baku. Every booth they passed earned M’Baku a discreet bow, head nod and smile while she got a curious and long stare. She did stand out like red in a sea of white, too small to be a Jabari and clearly dressed in the clothes of a low lander. Her two-piece dress would not have turned heads in the Golden City, but here? It screamed of an outsider who didn't know how to dress for the weather.

However, her companion certainly was not complaining. M'Baku almost lost his breath when she walked into his office that morning, the smooth skin of her waist showing, her shapely body on display in the form-fitting skirt. There were several moments throughout the day that he got lost in the desire to know what laid beneath that outfit, moments like right now.

She wondered if this is what it was like for T’Challa or Shuri when they roamed the markets in Wakanda without a care in the world. She was always jealous of them, envied them for it. All the people they got to meet, things they got to see... she knew it brought them closer to their roots. After all, the true beauty of Wakanda is her people. If you do not know them, how can you truly love the country? Truly be a part of it? Yet another thing that made her heart ache, long for a different reality... she was an outsider in her own country, and would never be able to feel the warmth of Wakanda as she should have. They always told her there was nothing to envy, describing it as mundane, commonplace, sometimes even boring. She always thought they were lying for her benefit, and now she knew that to be true. What she was experiencing now was quite the opposite of mundane, commonplace or boring. It was lively and vibrant... she imagined if she were to walk through at the same time tomorrow, she would see something totally unique. The sights, sounds and smells overloaded her senses as she walked, all competing for her attention and pulling her in 100 different directions.

"What are you thinking about?" His deep baritone startled her out of her inner musings. 

"Oh umm..I was just thinking about how different this is. You know, I can't even remember the last time I was in a crowd this big, truthfully. Probably not since I was 10 or so?" She nervously fidgeted with her hands as anxiety replaced her awe while she looked at the unsuspecting Jabari around her.

"That is when the chosen begin to reveal their powers. I imagine it is the same down the mountains?"

She nodded and sighed, "Yes." 

A loud crack drew her attention to two small children playing with knobkerries behind one of the booths as they walked, reminding her of her and her brother at that age. 

"One minute T'Challa and I were training together and the next minute, the training mat was in flames. I will never forget his face... He thought it was the coolest thing ever. My parents... did not. And of course, now I just think of all the ways I could have accidentally hurt him. Like I could do to almost ev-every person here." That last part was softer, M'Baku realizing that she didn't really mean to say it out loud.

"If I truly thought you were a danger to anyone here, I would not have brought you. Do not sell yourself or your control over yourself short Asha. Come, I think this may help."

She appreciated the lifeline, his ability to pull her back from the edge of the cliff before she catapulted down into a sea of anxiety and fear. Of course, she did not truly recognize that everytime he pulled her from that cliff, he was pushing her toward a different, equally dangerous one. She was just grateful for the distraction, the assurance as he pulled her toward an empty booth to his right. Unlike the other booths that were filled with products, this booth was completely bare with only a frail-looking old woman sitting alone behind it. 

"Miss Olabisi, looking as beautiful as ever," M'Baku boasted to the old woman sitting behind the booth. 

She leaned into her carved wooden walking stick to help her stand as she limped her way from her seat to the counter.

"My lord. I pray Hanuman is blessing you today," she offered with a smile. 

Her petite, wrinkled hands grasped his large ones as she spoke. Asha watched from a bit behind him as they interacted.

"Just as he does every day. I brought a friend with me today. I was hoping to show her your flowers."

Asha shared a confused look with Alexis behind him. There were no flowers at her booth or any visible merchandise or a sign to explain what the woman sold there.

"Ah a special friend? She is beautiful but not a Jabari. Must be a lowlander. Come close, my child. I don't bite," she reached out a hand for Asha to approach. 

Asha walked up to stand by M'Baku, the old woman immediately taking her hand in hers. Instinctively, Asha yanked her hand away and Alexis banged her spear into the ground, ready to use her weapon. Asha quickly raised her hand, signaling for her guard to stand down.

"Do not fret, child. I mean you no harm. I am sure you have encountered more dangerous beings than I," she held her fragile hands back out. 

After a reassuring smile and nod from M'Baku, Asha placed her hand back in hers. Her fingertips gently gazed over her palm, seemingly unbothered by the smoke slowly rising from her palm.

"I sense great magic in you child. Perhaps one of the most powerful chosen I have seen all my days. A Fire One? The most rare among us... Perhaps a rare flower for a rare beauty, yes?"

Unnerved by the woman's other-worldly ability to read her powers, Asha's responses were limited to simple head nods. Asha watched as she pulled a pot of soil from under her counter. With a few waves of her hands, Asha watched a flower buds slowly peek out of the soil. She watched them grow and grow until the pot was full of Wakandan Roses: blood red with orange tips.

"A flower fit for one chosen by fire, I think."

Awe and wonder settled on Asha's face like a child. "Wow... wow, these are beautiful. Thank you."

"Anything for our chief's special friend," she answered. She waved her hands over a second pot, causing a white orchid to emerge. "And your favorite, my lord. Now go on, child. The day is as young and beautiful as the two of you. Don't waste it chatting with me. It was a pleasure to meet you Princess Asha, I expect we will see far more of you here."

"Thank you, Olabisi" M'Baku saluted her before motioning for his guard to pick up the potted flowers, pay, and continue back toward the carriage. "She is a chlorokinetic and the oldest Chosen in the tribe. She tends to the tribe's greenhouses and sells flowers, she can make a variation of any flower in the world based on a person's energy. Hence the hand thing, which sorry. I should have warned you. It is a bit jarring the first time," she nodded, the pair sharing a laugh. "She can also sense powers in other people. She is the epitome of what the chosen are meant to be for us." 

"I can see. She is very special."

"The surprises are not over for today. I wanted you to see one more thing. A little mind-reading bird told me you love sunsets. I thought you ought to see the best one in all of Wakanda."

Asha scoffed, "I do but every Wakandan knows that the best view of the sunset is on the Great Mound, you can see Bast bring nightfall over all of Wakanda."

The horse pulling his carriage sped off, toward the mountain across from the Lodge. The winding, snow-covered roads took them higher and higher up the mountain.

"Oh yea? Well," he paused to climb out of the carriage and help her down. The carriage stopped at a small clearing that led to a cliff, not unlike the one the Talon dropped her off on the day prior. "The Jabari would like to offer up a contender for that spot."

She walked to the middle of the clearing and her breath was almost taken away. You could see everything: the border mountains of Jabariland, the waterfalls that flowed down into the valley of those border mountains, the Great Mound in the distance.

"T-this is... wow. I mean..." Words failed her. 

There were no words to describe the majesty of her home. Wakanda is not perfect, she knew this, but of all the books she read, movies she had seen, she was confident in saying that no country on Earth held a torch to this beauty.

The pair stood, with their human shadows not far behind, fairly close to the edge of the peak. The whole world fell away as they stood, both staring off into the sunset. The sun made its descent slowly, giving them time to admire the changing colors in the sky. Tonight, it seemed Bast and Hanuman, she supposed given the setting, wanted to welcome her to this new place. With the setting sun came a sky of fire, rich hues of red faded into brilliant oranges as day gave way to dusk.

"You win. T-this is beautiful... it is everything M'Baku."

"It seems Hanuman wanted to thank us for bringing a rare beauty into his home. A sky fit for a woman of fire."

She turned away, face flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the flames beneath the surface. They continued to watch as the sky settled firmly into dusk before it would quickly give way to the inky blackness of nightfall. Asha didn't realize how close the two were standing until her shoulder brushed against his arm, causing those mysterious sparks like those that rise from embers on a fire to slowly rise from her hands. 

He held her hand, instinctively noticing her preparing to snatch them out of the atmosphere, desperate to stop her. They watched each other, her small hand still in his as the sparks grew. Soon, they were surrounded by them, circling them, pulling them into a world of their own.

Before M'Baku could stop himself, his free hand cupped her face, holding her gaze to his. He felt it... the heat flush beneath her skin. He imagined a boiling inferno of power that no one else could see, that no one else was worthy of. She stared up at him with a soft smile that made him want to gather the whole world and lay it at her feet. It took all of one day... 24 hours for him to forget her engagement, forget how undeserving he was of her, forget his iron-clad rules and self-control and whatever bullshit he fed himself to limit his feelings toward her. He didn't want to be limited... normalcy, being ordinary was limiting enough. He wanted her and that moment did not afford him the time to really examine what that would mean, the consequences of that next step. His thumb gently rubbed circles in her cheek, her eyes fell closed at his touch and he knew he had her.

Looking at each other, both decided that the consequences were inconsequential. Those would just have to be the troubles of the future M'Baku and Asha to work out because right here... right now was all that mattered. His hand slid down to her neck as he pulled her body flush against his.

Bated breaths passed between the two, they shared silent pleads and determination to see this choice through as M'Baku lowered his lips toward hers only to be stopped by the shrill sound of her beads ringing through the air. Like an explosion, the two jumped away from each other immediately.

"Oh no! M-my meeting with T'Challa. I-I am late. W-we sh-should return to the Lodge." 

She stammered as she waved her hand around her face and closed it into a fist causing all the floating sparks to return to their owner.

"Y-yes. Yes. Of course. Let us hurry."

They climbed back into the carriage, taking off back down the mountain and up the sharp curves of another. Asha was thankful Alexis and Amari were in another carriage behind them so she did not have to see the look of disappointment on her guard's face. The ride back was only marked with silence... very awkward silence as she and M'Baku looked everywhere but at each other.

She felt foolish, coming onto him like a desperate fool. 

Why on Earth would he want you? 

She wanted to smack herself in the head. Never mind the fact that she was someone else's, why on Earth was she desperate for the intimate attention of someone who was not him?

Because we all know Hasani is incapable and unwilling to give you those things.

Well maybe that is because I am undeserving of them, she fought with herself internally.

Across the very short distance of the back seat in the carriage, M'Baku was having a similar fight with himself, kicking himself for ignoring everything he put in place to stop this exact scenario. She would hate him after this, he just knew it. Never want to see him again, demand to be taken back down the mountains immediately. And then he would face the wrath of the Black Panther for making her uncomfortable.

Why do you insist on making things harder for yourself?

They jumped out of the carriage quickly and M'Baku escorted her back to her chambers.

"This is your stop," he joked as they stood outside her door. 

They both could tell the other was trying to figure out a way to address the gorilla in the room, what just took place. But she could not find the words and apparently neither could he.

"Yes, thank you. Um... are we still on for our walk tomorrow morning?" She asked timidly, her way of ensuring she was still in his good graces... that she did not ruin their budding friendship.

"Of course," he exclaimed, his face lighting up. They both let out a sigh of relief, he was also looking for a way to ensure he had not ruined everything. "Same time and place."

"Great! I am looking forward to it. I s-should go though. Shouldn't keep the king waiting right?"

"Right, good night Asha." She watched him walk away, a doey-eyed look of longing plastered on her face before Alexis caught her attention.

"We will need to speak about this after you finish with T'Challa," she whispered.

Asha rolled her eyes, refusing to acknowledge her guard's love for drama and gossip. Asha and Alexis settled into her room, putting her flowers on the nightstand before pulling out her tablet to call T'Challa.

"T'Challa! I am so sorry, I was with M'Baku and lost track of time," she apologized as she sat down on the couch next to Alexis.

"M'Baku? So you two are on a first name basis?"

"They are on more than that," Alexis whispered under her breath to which Asha responded with daggers of her own.

"What was that?" T'Challa inquired, amused at the interaction as realization hit that there was more to this bout of tardiness than his little sister was willing to let on.

"Nothing, nothing. Apologies again, my king."

"Well, I can excuse skipping one meeting, just don't make a habit of it like your younger sister, understand?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good, let's get to work."

***

"This is delicious... I didn’t realize you all were actually vegetarians. I thought you were just bothering the colonizer."

Asha smiled across the table at her host as they enjoyed dinner. It was bittersweet... she was ecstatic that he invited her to a private dinner in his residence but it was to commemorate her last night in the mountains and a successful final day of talks. She was going home with a signed treaty welcoming the Jabari back into the fold officially. But she didn't want to leave. The last two days were magical... perfect. And then in the morning, she would have to go down the mountains, put her rings back on and return to secrecy. She didn't want to do it but she knew she had no choice.

M’Baku let out a loud chuckle in his signature bark and shook his head.

"I was really proud of that joke."

"Oh we could all tell," Asha assured him as she finished her vegetable soup. 

Her mind drifting back to her first time meeting this gentle giant, he seemed like anything other than that at the time. Even when he was doubled over guffawing at his own joke. But after two days, she saw it: the softness behind his tough exterior. She could tell he did not show the whole tribe that side often. People did not seem scared of him. No, he was not a ruler who required fear and intimidation to rule. He had the love and respect of his people, which was evident, while striking a balance between toughness and compassion.

"Are you excited to return home? I can imagine it is tough being away for so long."

"To see Shuri and T'Challa? Yes. But I could live without the rest of it. Being here is nice. Left all my burdens at the bottom of your mountains. Can't say I am excited to pick them up again."

"It must have been hard... everything you have been through in the last month. Your father died, your brother died and came back, your cousin attacked your family, you were forced into exile, you got engaged, first job. Not a lot of time to recover before a new wave drags you beneath the surface. How are you coping?"

She looked up from her plate and noticed that the original playfulness in his eyes was gone, replaced with a certain seriousness she was unprepared for. She played with the ends of her braids, "Well when you list it like that, it does sound pretty tragic," she laughed slightly before a more solemn look fell on her face. "I don't know. Nobody has asked me that and I j- I just try to avoid thinking about some of it, like Baba. It is too," she stared into space as she sought to find the proper word, "Too complicated."

"Why?" He quickly bowed his head with guilt, "I-I am sorry. That is none of my business. I shouldn't be asking you to bear your soul over dinner."

"No need to apologize," she responded with a reassuring smile. 

And she truly wasn't offended. He was the first person to inquire about her grief, the first person who she knew would not judge her for the very, very gray area it still resided in. If she was going to bare her soul to anyone, he seemed like the best option. 

"You know, my mother and Shuri loved to go to the spa? It is their tradition when Baba and T'Challa are out of the country. They leave their beads and they enjoy a day with each other - no tech, no distractions. My mother always pretended like they were going to do official business or something in an effort to not make me feel bad. But I always knew. But what she didn't know was that I loved it. Particularly this day, Bast I could not wait for them to leave," she laughed, causing M'Baku's lips to turn into a slight smile at her airy laugh, one that resembled a small child. 

"T'Challa has been working for weeks to build me this fire-resistant training room and it was finally ready. So that was going to be the day, I was going to go and finally, safely, test the potential of these mysterious powers I had. He would say, 'If you are going to be cursed, as you call it, you might as well learn to use it to your advantage.' And so, my wardens were gone... my siblings were gone so I couldn’t hurt them. I finally had some freedom. I put it off all day, hemmed and hawed about it. I finally made it down there, was about to step in when..."

"What stopped you?"

"My beads rang and I ignored them initially. But they rang again and again. When I answered them, it was T'Challa and he could b-barely say it. But he didn't have to. I could see it. I had seen my brother upset... angry but never this. Never heartbroken, never shattered. And I knew he couldn't do it... so I went back upstairs and waited for my mother and Shuri to return. Telling them was like... was like watching someone's world end. And as I sat there holding Shuri as she sobbed or spent hours on the phone trying to talk my homicidal brother off a ledge, I just felt like an outsider in their grief. Like a phony who was not as sad as her family."

"How so?"

"Don't get me wrong. I loved my father and I was sad, in my own way. But it was so confusing. He was loved by everyone. And when someone dies, especially in a tragedy, we ignore the bad parts and immortalize the good. My mother lost a dedicated and devoted husband. My brother lost his hero and role model. Shuri lost a doting father and her strongest advocate."

"And you?"

"I lost a prison guard, my biggest critic. My father hated everything about who I was. Everything that made me who I am and he raised me to hate it too. He made me a prisoner in my own home. When his soul left this earth, I felt freedom for the first time in a long time. Felt like I could finally be myself." 

M'Baku nodded, "That makes sense. I can only imagine how difficult that is. But you can be free now, under your brother's reign."

"Can I though? It only took a few days for me to realize that the prison he created was more than the walls of a palace he didn’t allow me to leave. He built them around my heart, around my soul, blocking out every good and beautiful thing I could have in this world. And then.. I don't know, I just became more angry with him than sad." 

She looked up from her lap as silence overtook the table, taking his lack of words for judgment. "I know, I am a horrible person and daughter." 

"No, no. I don't think that. Life is complicated, feelings are complicated. You are doing the best you can. I was actually thinking of ways to help you exercise this freedom. You didn't wear those rings for two days and no catastrophes. I think you should reward yourself."

She eyed him suspiciously before sitting back in her seat and deciding to humor him. 

"Reward myself for not accidentally burning your house down? How should we do that?"

"Well, what is one aspect of your powers you want to explore but haven't yet?"

She looked off into the distance, thinking deeply, eyes widening as she thought of the one thing she wanted to try. 

"I can fly, I think. Or at least, I can hover off the ground. I haven't had the chance to really try it. There would be no place to safely do it." She shook her head, acknowledging the absurdity of it.

M'Baku's eyes bugged out of his head for a second before he recovered. Now this was more for him than her, he quickly realized. Because there is nothing he wanted more in the world than to see her soaring across the sky. He stood up and reached out for her hand to help her out of her chair. 

"Well, there is no better time to try than the present. Come with me."

"What? Wait M'Baku, I don't think I am dressed properly to attempt flying and it could be dangerous," she tried to reason as he walked her outside. They walked for a bit until they reached the Jabari's outside training grounds. 

There, Kide waited for them. "You called for me, my lord?"

"Yes. The Princess would like to test out her powers a bit, specifically the art of flying. I figured that you, our resident expert, could give her some pointers."

"Wait, you can fly?" she asked in disbelief.

He and M'Baku shared a knowing look and slight chuckle before Kide closed his eyes, his body gently hovering above the ground before he gently glided over to her. "Not long distances but I can get around Jabariland pretty well. Let's see what you can do."

"Oh, I don't know if I can turn it on like that. The first time... eh... the first time I was out of control."

"What were you thinking about then?"

"Escaping danger, I wanted to get as far away as fast as I could."

He seemed to look through her as he thought about her statement. 

"Fear is a good motivator but you don't want to have to be terrified to access parts of your powers. So think about channeling your fire, which is the fuel for your flying I assume, into your extremities and using that to push yourself off the ground. And then just think about a destination and focus all your energy through your body to get there. Give it a try."

She quickly stripped herself of her shoes, knowing Shuri would not forgive her for destroying them. She felt the flames beneath the surface rush to her feet to warm them up as she stood in the snow, melting the frozen precipitation around her. She closed her eyes, feeling foolish but she tried to do what he said. She thought about almost gathering all the fire inside in a ball at her core before pushing it down into her hands and feet. She felt the unmistakable heat of fire in the air, letting her know that that part worked at least. Determination set in her face as she pushed and pushed, straining to lift her body off the ground. Soon, she felt it, the familiar lightness of floating. Her eyes snapped open to see M'Baku and Kide below her. She was only a few feet off the ground but it was something.

She looked down at her hands and feet, looking at the flames working hard to keep her in the air. She laughed into the air, shock filling her as she realized she was really doing it. However, the momentary loss of concentration caused her to tumble back into the snow.

"Not a bad first try, Princess. You can't lose concentration though," Kide laughed as he walked over to her to help her up. She wiped the water droplets from the melted snow off her dress as she looked at him.

"That was amazing. Wow. Do you think I could actually fly or just hover like that?" She asked enthusiastically.

Next to her, M'Baku's smile was brighter than all the stars in the Jabari sky, This was the Asha he was yearning to see since she stepped foot into the mountains. The one who was excited about her powers, the one that was determined to explore her endless possibilities. He did not believe she could get more perfect than he thought she was. But she continued to surprise him. Simply watching her float above him, her eyes filled with fire, like a goddess was beyond breathtaking. If Hanuman decided to call him home to the Ancestral Cliffs at this moment, he would go happily. He had seen it all, nothing would top that moment.

While he was trapped in a cycle of adoration and admiration for her, he missed her rising in the air again, this time with a bit more grace and confidence.

Asha kept her concentration as she tilted forward and tried to fly in a circle above the men's heads. She pushed the fire behind her to push upward and then out to propel herself forward. Cold air whipped against her exposed skins and entered her lungs but she didn't care. She never wanted this feeling to end. She did a couple of laps around their heads, still a bit wobbly, losing height here or there as she tried to adjust to this new skill. She touched her exposed feet back down on the ground, causing the fire on her feet to immediately die out. Her hands took a moment but soon the flames retreated back into her body as well, allowing Kide and M'Baku to approach again.

"Well done, princess," M'Baku said, clapping for her.

She smiled, praise sounding far more appealing when it tumbled from his lips. "Thank you. Thank you both for this. It was exhilarating and life-changing and ju- just thank you."

"Well, we are here anytime you want to escape the lowlanders and practice Princess," M'Baku offered. "Let's go inside yes? You have an early day journey home tomorrow."

Asha nodded, but hesitated when M'Baku took her hand to lead her back into the Lodge.

"What's wrong?"

"This will sound foolish. But I j-just don't want this to end. I know what I have to go back to and here, well this is easy. Here with you, it is freedom. Guess I am not ready to go back and have that end? Is that crazy?" She asked, wanting confirmation that her inner thoughts did not make her insane.

"Not crazy at all. How about we go back to my quarters for a drink? We can talk and relax? Then the night won't end for another hour or so."

"That would be great, thank you."

"But you have to promise me something?" He stopped walking to turn and look at her. 

"And what would that be?" 

"When you go back to the city, take some of the freedom you had here back? Don't go back and retreat into isolation again?" 

"Deal." That sounded easy enough, right? After the last couple of days, Asha had no desire to return to the woman she was back at home. She wanted it to be like this all the time, even if it couldn't be with him. 

They walked back to his private quarters where he pulled out a bottle of Jabari rum and the pair settled on his couch. Over that bottle, they talked about everything under the sun. Asha learned everything there was to know about M'Baku's life in the mountains. They talked about their families, embarrassing stories, and battle wounds. They tested, much to Asha's chagrin, how her powers stood up against Jabari wood. They went over it all, getting drunk off of rum and each other.

Soon, more than an hour had passed and it was 3 a.m. and M'Baku looked over to find Asha asleep next to him. She was too peaceful, too beautiful bathed in the moonlight from his window to disturb. He picked her up and settled her into his bed, which held the warmest furs and would be most comfortable. He watched the soft rise and fall of her chest, listened to her quiet breaths as she got lost in the unconscious world. He simply thanked Hanuman for the opportunity to know her. Tomorrow, they would return to reality, it would leave them out in the cold alone. He didn't want to think about how tomorrow, she would go back to being someone else's. He was just happy they had tonight. He pulled an extra blanket out of the closet before settling back on the couch to rest. The lesser parts of him wanted to join her in his bed but that was not his way. He watched over her for a bit longer before sleep claimed him.

***

"Asha!!"

Asha's foot barely left the ramp of the Royal Talon before Shuri's small body rammed into hers. She grunted playfully before instinctively wrapping her little sister in a tight hug. "Bast I missed you."

"Don't leave me with T'Challa again," Shuri complained. "He is no fun."

Asha laughed loudly as they walked up to her brother, Nakia and her mother who waited at the entrance of the palace. 

"I promise. He is no fun," she agreed with her sister.

"Brother, Nakia," she greeted as the two pulled her into tight hugs. 

You would have thought she was gone for weeks. It had only been two days. But she supposed it was a different feeling for everyone. Usually, she was the one that was left behind, waiting for others to return, not the other way around.

"Welcome back, your absence, even for a short while, was certainly felt. I hope the trip was productive?"

"Duh, come on brother, do you really believe I would return empty handed?" she pretended to be insulted by his insinuation before turning to her mother.

 "Mama." 

She went in to hug her before her mother raised her hand to stop her.

"Where are your rings?? Foolish girl, you could have burned me or burned the house down. Why would you take them off?" Her mother chastised her.

Asha's heart sank a bit, she had been on a high since leaving Jabariland, opting to not put those rings back on. She wanted to see how she fared without them at home. She did not really think about her mother's reaction, she just focused on how supportive she knew T'Challa and Shuri would be. Already, reality was hitting the young princess, hitting her fast.

"I-I am sorry mama. I forgot. Alexis," she motioned for her Dora to bring her the small pouch that contained the rings. 

Quickly, she put them on all her fingers to be allowed to hug her own mother. The effects were swift and slightly painful after being without them for days. The panther fought it but soon she was back in her cage where she belonged.

"A lapse in judgment this family cannot afford. Your father and I raised you better than this Asha." 

The hug her mother bestowed was quick before she turned and walked back into the palace. Asha stared at her back, a hurt expression on her face that her siblings and friend quickly noticed.

You brought this on yourself. Why on Earth would you think you could come back here and it be any different?

Asha knew things wouldn't magically change over night but she had hoped she could do as M'Baku asked and bring some of the mountains home with her. Perhaps she had gotten too comfortable in the safety and progressiveness of the Jabari, and had forgotten how things worked here. She had changed but her world had not. 

"Let us go, Asha. We need to start getting ready for tonight's state dinner. Tell us all about your trip." Nakia smiled brightly at her before tugging her toward the door.

"Oh, it was nice. Jabariland is beautiful, the people are amazing. It was great," she answered without much detail. She didn't really want to talk about the trip now. And she knew she couldn't say a great deal in front of T'Challa.

Leaving today had been bittersweet to say the least. That morning she woke up in M'Baku's bed, which was a genuine shock. A good one though. What better way to wake up than wrapped in the scent of a man like that? She looked over and saw him sleeping on the couch, his bare chest exposed. She wanted him in so many ways, all of which were ways she could not realistically have him. But her wants were still the same. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest part. She tried to prolong their time together and convince him to come on the Royal Talon to the Capitol early since he had to be there that evening for the state dinner and the next day for the council meeting. But he refused, citing work that needed to be finished before he could escape for a party.

She now understood what that goodbye really meant though. Their time together was over, whatever their complicated and slightly inappropriate relationship was, it could not exist here as it did in the mountains. And now she wasn't sure if the woman he helped shape could last either. 

***

Asha never minded being unable to attend official events, they seemed like more of a hassle than fun. But here she was, standing in the receiving line next to her sister and brother, playing the true part of a princess - something she had never really done before.

Her painted smile never faltered as she saluted and greeted every guest before they reached her brother. There was only one guest she actually cared about seeing but she pretended to care about the rest. But that painted smile lit up when he came into view, a change in demeanor that was not lost on her siblings. Her posture grew, her internal light shined brighter with every step he took toward her.

"Lord M'Baku, long time no see," she greeted him with a salute and a laugh.

"Princess, it has been too long," he joked back. "I hope your journey home was pe-" his words faltered momentarily as his eyes fell on her hands in her salute. 

She watched as they rolled over each ring on her fingers, she could see it clear as day swimming in the sea of his brown orbs: his disappointment. She wanted to say something, but couldn't as the ushers herded him forward before he could finish his thought. She stared longingly at his back, willing the thoughts in her mind to jump into his brain as he walked away, willing him to understand. But the opportunity passed as quickly as it came.

She tried to speak with him throughout the night but every time, they would get interrupted or he would quickly dodge her. She understood he was likely disappointed but what else could she have done?

"Are you alright?"

Asha turned to find Nakia sitting next to her, looking at her with an expression of concern.

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"Because I have known you your whole life. This is not the face of a woman who is ok. You have been different since returning from your trip."

Asha laughed, "I have not even been back a day, Nakia."

"It doesn't matter. We saw it the moment you stepped off that plane. You are more confident and assured. It radiates off of you. I will bet I can guess who in the mountains helped bring that about?"

Asha scanned the crowd to avoid Nakia's knowing and sly looks. "Yes, well. He helped me tap into parts of myself that I didn't know existed. I-It was nice there. It was nice to be se-" Her voice fell as her eyes fell, not on the only man she actually cared about seeing, but on her intended. 

She watched as Hasani chatted with one of the guests, their attraction for each other was obvious to anyone who could see them. His hand on the small of her back, hers on his bicep, the way they leaned in far too closely to whisper in each other's ears, the laughter that seemed to reach above the crowd to Asha's ears just to taunt her. She saw it all. 

"Will you excuse me Nakia?"

"Yes, my princess."

Asha descended from the high table and walked toward him. She debated what to say or do, there was really nothing she could say or do without causing a scene. But she had to end this before too many people noticed.

"Hasani," she called politely as she approached. He quickly dropped his hand from her back and put a small amount of distance between the two.

"Yes, my princess?"

"May I speak to you please?"

She ignored the eye roll and grunt that was supposed to serve as a yes and led him into the now empty entrance hall.

"Can you not do that?" She asked once they were alone in a small hallway off from the main hall.

"Do what?"

Asha rubbed her forehead, she almost wished she had just ignored it. She could hear it in his words, he had been drinking, which meant this would likely be an unproductive conversation. 

"I do not care how many women you sleep with throughout this engagement or our marriage. But in public, I do ask that you, at least, appear to be loyal and dedicated to me. It is embarrassing as the King's sister and his top advisor to have my intended openly flirt-"

"I am embarrassing you?" he angrily called out loudly. Asha's head whipped around, ensuring that everyone was still inside enjoying the party and not paying them any attention.

"N-n-no, that is not w-what I meant. I ju-" She stammered as she tried to adjust, shocked at his outburst.

"Your entire existence is an embarrassment to your tribe and this country but you want to lecture me? Let us not forget who is in charge here. One word and I expose you to this entire country... Let's see how long you and your beloved Panthers are in charge when the people realize what you are. Would you prefer that?"

"N-no, no. Of course not Hasani. I am sorry, I didn't mean to-" Asha tried to calm herself down, as frustration and fear spread inside her. 

Her panther banged at its cages, always on guard when fear made its appearance.

"It is bad enough I am forced to marry you, forced to have children with you. But now you want to lecture me as if I am the issue in this engagement? Like I am the problem. The problem is you and your affliction. The problem is that the only thing that makes you worthy to marry me or any poor soul in this country is your title. What would you be without that crown? Nothing, just an abomination that no one could ever love or care about."

Some say liquor causes people to say and do things they do not mean. While others believe it gives them the courage to say what was always on their mind. Asha had no clue which was true for Hasani as he lashed at her, but she guessed it was the latter. Either way, the knowledge that he was not fully in control of his words did not lessen their sting. Each felt like a stab wound through the small amount of self-esteem and confidence she had built over the last few days. Before this party, she still had some of the residual of her trip to the mountains, still holding tight to the belief that she was as worthy and special as M'Baku had made her. And now, it was like none of that had happened at all.

She sniffled and blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"You disgust me. Now, I am returning to this party and I do not ever wish to have this conversation with you again. Do you understand?"

Asha nodded softly, whispering, "Yes. I understand."

He spared her one last look filled with so much disgust that it forced Asha to turn away from him before he strode back into the party unbothered. Asha leaned against the wall for a moment, still trying to hold back her tears. She realized that there was no way she was getting her emotions back under control enough to return to the party so she took off down the hall, heading toward her office.

The moment her door closed, she let out a strangled sob, leaning on her desk to stay upright. She quickly realized why Hasani got to her as he did... because he reminded her of him.

Asha walked quietly through the palace to dinner.When she arrived, her family was already seated. She sat in her seat in between her brother and Shuri.

"Good evening Asha," her father nodded from the head of the table.

"Baba, mama," she responded greeting her parents.

"T'Challa and Shuri, do not forget you need to pack tonight for our trip to the U.N. for the summit. We leave in a few days."

Asha looked up from her food, face wrinkling up with confusion, "T'Challa and Shuri are going? I thought we were not allowed to go?"

"No. You are not allowed to go. T’Challa is to be king one day and Shuri will be going so your mother can look after her. You will stay here and the Dora and staff will look after you while we are gone."

Her head turned toward her older brother, his eyes were filled with sympathy. She was sure if she turned and looked at her five-year-old sister, her face would be similar. It was clear to her and T’Challa that their middle sibling was treated poorly compared to them who were doted on for their respective roles as heir and youngest.

Asha’s heart fell slightly, she was not sure why she continued to be disappointed, this had been her reality since that dreaded day five years ago. 

"You should be used to it by now," a small voice whispered to her.

She sighed, "Baba, I want to go, please? I promise not to use them, I can even stay in the hotel," she pleaded.

"Enough Asha. You do this every time we go somewhere. You cannot go, you understand why you cannot go. You have proven that you cannot control it, you could hurt someone again." Her head bowed as the memories flooded back and her guilt with it. "I cannot have you come and reveal your abomination to the country or world."

"You are too hard on the child. She tries her best," her mother said quietly down the table to her father.

"No! She does this all the time. I am tired of explaining myself to her. What happens when she reveals that she is cursed by Bast to everyone? We lose everything, they uproot this family and we lose control of the Golden Tribe and the mantle. Is that what she wants? How can I justify having one in the family after advocating for eradicating such a disease from our borders? Absolutely not."

She could not stop her body’s natural reaction to the verbal lashings her father threw at her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared down into her plate of food, her appetite diminishing by the second.

"And see? Look, it is useless. She does not try. She cannot control it. She is a disgrace."

She looked down and saw wisps of smoke rising from her hands which were twisting in her lap. She closed her hands into fists, feeling the power growing too large to bear around so many people she loved. Her chair screeched across the floor as she got up and ran from the table, dinner forgotten. She didn't bother to acknowledge T'Challa who called after her as she left.

Tears blurred her vision as she ran back to her room. It, like her existence, was isolated away from the other bedrooms of the Royal Family. She slammed her door shut and her small form immediately crumbled down to the ground sobbing. The harder she sobbed, the larger and wilder the flames grew, causing the sobs to grow even stronger.

She banged her hands on the ground, trying to force the fire to die out in her palms. It did no such thing, only leaving evidence of her attempts with burn marks in the shape of hand prints on her carpet. "Why won't you stop?!" she practically screamed at her own hands as she prayed and willed it all to end. Her eyes fell on the small statue of Bast in the corner of her room.

"Why would you do this to me? What did I do?" She angrily asked the black jaguar figure, looking it in its crystal eyes. 

She didn't understand. What could a 15 year old have done to deserve such a punishment? What could she have changed, done better as a baby, a toddler, a child for Bast to have shown her mercy? The day she realized she had powers at 10, she remembered it as clearly as if it was yesterday. That was the last day she felt the true love of her parents, the last day of her normal life. Her hand lifted and a ball of flames encompassed the small statue. It didn't burn, she knew it wouldn't, it was usually her outlet of pain when it all became too much and it still stood, unburnt.

Through her sobs, she lobbed balls of fire at the statue, the flames encompassing it for a split second before dying out. Soon, she calmed down, her body's energy stores depleted. The tears stopped flowing, her chest stopped heaving and her anger dissipated. All that remained was her own exhaustion. She climbed into bed, her father's harsh words oscillating in her youthful mind.

"Your father is right," a small voice told her. If her own family saw her as a monster, why would the country see her as anything different. She was not chosen, she did not deserve these powers. She wondered how many other children laid in bed hiding in shadows like she did, praying to a god that had forsaken them. She wondered if they prayed the same daily prayer that she did, the same mantra and pleads she uttered every single day for the last five years... a prayer to be normal.

"Asha."

Her body whipped around at the sound of the voice she longed for, that baritone that made her feel loved and deserving. She came face to face with the owner of that voice. Her hands quickly and shakily wiped the tears from her face.

"W-w-what are you doing up here? Not enjoying the entertainment of the lowlanders?" she joked weakly.

"These things are not really how I choose to spend my time. I only came out of respect for King T'Challa and..." his words died off as if he realized he shouldn't say the second reason out loud. "Doesn't seem like you are enjoying the party either."

"No," she chuckled lightly, "They are not really how I choose to spend my time either. I am ok, really," she added at the look of concern still etched into his face. 

Her words did nothing to diminish it though.

"The tears streaming down your face tell a different story. Forgive me for overstepping as I am about to but I heard him... heard what he said to you. You know those things are not true yes? You are deserving of all the greatness in this world."

She rounded her desk, hunching over with her hands balled in fists, head shaking as his words clashed with the thoughts in her head. "Do I know that? Because that is what my father used to tell me too... what every person downstairs would tell me if they knew what I truly was before they burned my family at the figurative stake. These powers... they are a curse."

"Wait what? All the things you said and did in the mountains, how can you still think that?" M'Baku was shocked, genuinely confused. This was not the woman who flew off in that plane mere hours ago, all that progress vanishing before his eyes. 

"It is certainly not a gift!" She lashed out at him, voice rising as she emotionally unloaded on one of the few people that supported her. "I was not chosen, M'Baku! My brother... my father... his father... they won in combat, they went to the ancestral plains, possibly spoke with Bast herself before the herb gave them the powers to protect us. They were chosen! It isn't right any other way. It doesn't WORK any other way!" Her fists banged on the desk to accentuate her point as she ranted. "The only thing I know is that Bast doesn't care... if she did, she would have taken these powers away years ago. A life like this, it isn't worth it."

"Do you know how many nights I prayed to be like you? Begged to be anything else, begged to not be ordinary, to be chosen to better the lives of my people. Only to be denied every single time." 

She could hear the begging and pleading in his voice, the desperation for her to understand why none of this made sense. 

"And you stand there, with all the power in the world at your fingertips. And you would have Bast take that away from you? You would throw it all away to satisfy hate?"

"Without question."

"Wow..." he paused, reigning in his emotions. That outburst was not planned, was not what he wanted but he just didn't understand. He would never understand. 

"I thought you were becoming proud of your powers, proud of who you were. You promised to come back and do something different."

"I t-thought it would be easy. I thought I could but it doesn't work like that. I was a fool to believe it would. We are not the Jabari M'Baku."

"I guess we were both wrong. I don't know why I bothered," he responded, avoiding her eyes. 

This disappointment in his voice made Asha's heart shatter into millions of pieces. She didn't want to hear it, not directed at her. Somehow, it hurt worse than the insults Hasani hurdled at her earlier, cut deeper than anything he or her father had ever said. The look in his eyes made her want to crumble.

M'Baku shook his head, feeling rather foolish. He really had thought they had made a breakthrough in the mountains, a real connection. He thought he was getting to witness a rare and great power blossom. He had been so excited to see her take that new-found confidence and assurance down the mountains and utilize it in her everyday life. He saw clearly that it was a mistake, that he wanted too much from her. His judgment clouded by his infatuation with her. There had been a small piece of him that hoped she would see that the grass was truly greener and choose a better life, choose him. But now he knew how wrong he was, how stupid yearning for things he couldn't realistically have made him.

He turned away from her to head back out the door when a small hand wrapped around his thick bicep and pulled him back. Her hands held him in front of her, forcing him to look down into her eyes.

"Those two days with you... t-t-they were the best of my life M'Baku. And I doubt I will see days like them again. B-b-but stolen moments in the mountains do not erase my life. A few days of standing in the sun does not outshine decades in the shadows. They just don't. I wish it were enough, I w-wish those beautiful moments on the training ground and on that cliff were enough to undo how I feel about mutants and my powers. You want me to be who I was in those mountains, and I understand that. I do. But she isn't real," her voice broke as she pleaded with him, begged him to understand why she had to give in, why she couldn’t be what he wanted. "S-she exists because of those stolen moments I will never see again. She can't exist outside of them. This is who I am... The only version I am allowed to be when those moments end and reality sets in again."

This was it... those consequences their past selves ignored and left for future versions of themselves. This was the crossroads they now stood at, yearning for moments they knew from the start could not last and a fantasy that could not be a reality.

His hand cupped her face, wiping away the tears that fell for him. 

"I don't believe that. I see glimpses of her in you... when you came to my home to uproot the usurper, those days in the mountains, tonight. She is in there, begging and fighting for release. Let her out Asha. There has to be more to your life than this," he gestured around the room. "A life marked with self loathing and secrets. You deserve more than this. She can exist here with work... just try, please."

His voice lowered, his hands wrapped themselves around her waist to pull her closer. 

As their faces inched closer together, the inevitable outcome falling on her, she let out a breathy plea, "M'Baku." 

Whether it was intended to beg him to stop or beg him to continue, he did not know and neither did she. But soon, their lips met and all that talk about who she could and could not be was out the window. He had successfully pulled her from one cliff and took her diving with him off another. She was falling, falling hard and fast into the sea of M'Baku and she never wanted the fall to end.

As their mouths explored each other, she felt him pour adoration, care and love into every second of that kiss. Every moment counted for the pair as they stayed caught up in the rapture of each other.

"Asha!"

The two broke away quickly to find a peanut gallery standing outside her office door staring at them. While Okoye, Shuri and Nakia all sported similar looks of shock and excitement, the same could not be said for her brother.

Fuck.

"It is late. I should retire for the evening. I will see you all at tomorrow's council meeting," M'Baku muttered hastily before disappearing from her office as fast as his legs would allow. 

He gave her a last longing look before disappearing from view completely.

Asha leaned against her desk, eyes trained on the floor as she tried to think of how to explain what just happened to her captive audience. There was no time to really process what just took place, another stolen moment to add to their growing list. All she did know was that all these stolen moments were marked with consequences, and she wasn't sure any version of herself was prepared to deal with them. 

****

Tag list: @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @missmohnique @jellybean531 @afrolatinpami @leahnicole1219 @archivistofwakanda

[michael-radi-the-glamorous-life]

Hold Your Breath. Make A Wish. Count To Three.

You know how you sometimes have this dream - it could be a nighttime thing, or a daydream, or some lofty ethereal goal - but it’s something you just can’t quite imagine. It’s there and you can almost picture it, but only ever just almost.

I’ve had so many of these dreams that I lost count long ago. But I think it’s something that’s just in the DNA of artists and creative types.

Right?

Well, beginning sometime around the fall of 2016 I had this dream (the goal kind) of what it would be like, feel like, look like, sound like, etc to see The King’s Legacy - which had finally found the correct structure - come to life in a full production.

It simultaneously felt easily attainable and yet a thousand years off. I truly could almost see it happening. But it wasn’t happening - not yet anyway. So all I could do was just keep imagining and letting various scenarios pass through my head.

But I will tell you that, when it came down to the reality, it was nothing like I had imagined.

It was so much better.

Come With Me And You’ll Be In A World Of Pure Imagination

Writers are often asked:

“Do you see the show in your head as you write? Are you staging it? Directing it?”

And I am absolutely certain that some writers can and do.

But not me.

That’s not to say that I’m not imagining how it could possibly go and making sure that it seems workable, both as someone who has directed and continues to perform as an actor. But I either do not have the ability or the synapse wiring to fully direct the show in my brain as I write/create the entire world of a possible production. For me, it’s more a conglomeration of possibilities than it is a concrete idea.

And that’s where Chris J. Handley comes into the story.

I’ve known Chris as an actor since 2014 and one of the first things that struck me about him is that he is - plainly and simply - extremely good at what he does: as an actor, singer, emcee, and overall professional. He is an artistic force to be reckoned with.

Last year I had the pleasure of finally encountering Chris as a director as well (in The Spider’s Web at BVT). I had a small role, but I thoroughly enjoyed sitting in on the rehearsals - even when I was not needed - just to watch Chris work and direct. His intelligence and grasp of overall picture, while never letting the details slip away, is really a special experience.

So when I was told Chris would be the director for The King’s Legacy this summer, I was thrilled.

There is much I could say about the process of working with Chris on the script prior to the actual production, but the biggest takeaway for me from our early conversations was that he had a complete and utter grasp on what the piece was, wanted to be, its flow, its importance, and all of the layers that were on the page. It was like being fully seen for the first time - our conversations were deep and productive and wonderful.

And - if you would indulge me another moment - when we got to the summer and I finally got see the production elements that he had put together with the designers, I knew he truly understood the piece.

There was no doubt: this musical was going to truly come to life.

We’ll Begin With A Spin

There is a flow to the script of The King’s Legacy that is, potentially, a little difficult to find.

With the framing device of having the show performed by a troupe of Elizabethan Players, there are elements of narration and driving storyline that move the piece quickly between scenes and songs. And there’s a great deal of storytelling that must be done very quickly.

What Chris and the entire design team put together was a show that could move as quickly, freely, and easily as the words and performers have to move.

There is space. There is freedom. There is an element of play built directly into the production from the top down. And it’s awesome.

In a show where there is a great deal of information, 20 characters, and countless scene shifts, the whole experience can be somewhat dizzying at times. And when that is appropriate to the piece, they’ve allowed it to continue to exist in that way. And at times when we’d rather not give that experience to the audience, they figured out a way to create a more grounded experience, without losing the sense of movement.

Running through the show for the very first time in the rehearsal room was, as an actor, an exhausting and delightfully rewarding experience. The show is a runaway train that can never slow down or stop until it absolutely must, and it is this movement that Chris has infused throughout the entire show so masterfully.

The core, the heart, of this show has been lain bare for the audience, and it’s a beautiful experience.

Traveling In The World Of My Creation

Now, as the writer, walking into the theater is an awe-inspiring experience. Every time.

They built a world. There is literally a different world built in our space. And it’s the world of the show that I wrote…

I mean, whoa. That’s the coolest thing - like - period. Holy wow.

It’s beautiful. It’s magical. It’s period. Yet it’s not. It’s theatrical. It’s musical. And it’s our world - our home - for the next 9 days.

There have been a number of incredible experiences for me working in theater - as an actor, musical director, educator, and so on - but the experience of walking into this world fully realized for the first time is not something I am going to forget any time soon.

There it is. It’s right there.

Is it what I imagined? Nope. No way.

It’s so much better.

If You Want To View Paradise, Simply Look Around And View It

So, as we walk into our opening night tonight, what do I want to say?

I’m really not sure.

All I know that I can say is that I am so thankful and grateful for having been given the opportunity to bring this show to life for the first time, and with this insanely talented group of people. This team has been nothing short of incredible, and I could not be happier with the work they have done and the world they have built.

This world - this dream - exists because of these amazing individuals, who I must give credit to:

Executive Artistic Director - Karin Bowersock

Associate Artistic Director - Katelyn Cantu

Director - Chris J. Handley

Assistant Director - Kate Reynolds

Set Design - Christopher and Justin Swader

Lighting Design - Mary Ellen Stebbins

Costume Design - Sammi Miller

Costumes/Wardrobe - Valerie Frizzell

Costume Assistants - Joan Luther, Joan York

Sound Design - Rich Miller

Musical Director - Annabelle Revak

Stage Manager - Morgan Montgomery

Assistant Stage Manager - Andrea Armer

Choreographer - Adam Corcoran

Assistant Choreographer (+) - Meaghan Finlay

Dramaturg - Liz Porter Woods

Technical Director - Sam Santoianni

Assistant Technical Director - Mary Atchley

Props Mistress - Ammy Roth

Props/Paints - Mary Claunch

Carpentry - Mars Peterson, Ace Evans

Electrics - Amber Hahn, Amanda Ryan

Marketing/Administration - Emily Haan

Administration - Angela Einwachter

House Manager - Mary Peaty

Box Office/Front of House - Caity Peaty, Angela, Kyle Rook

Player 1 - Mike Kinzer

Player 3 - Mark Poppleton

Player 4 - Jennifer Arfsten

Player 5 - Hannah Karpenko

Player 6 - Alex Loucks

Player 7 - Tess Marshall

Player 8 - Leigh Martha Klinger

Player 9 - Bunny Baldwin (care of Joyce Baldwin)

As you can see, it really does take a village.

And now, all that is left to do is to soak in this paradise together - as artists, as creatives, as audience, and as lovers of theatre.

Yeah. Let’s do this thing.

[primary-colour-hair]

Academy Director, Educator, Assessor, Master Colourist, Hairdresser & Photographer, these are some of the accolades of SRH & Master Craftsman Loretta O’Connell who has been a State Registered Hairdresser for over 15 years and a qualified stylist for 30 years. Despite living & working overseas for half of her career she actively maintains her Wella Master Colour Expert status and State Registered Hairdresser & Master Craftsman status. She is an advocate for continuing education, mandatory licensing & registration for the hairdressing & barbering industry.

During her extensive career she has grown her skills & knowledge internationally working as a stylist & educator in Bermuda for over 7 years and is currently The Education & Academy Director at the prestigious ARROJO Academy & ARROJO Cosmetology schools owned by celebrity stylist Nick Arrojo in NYC where she has lived for over 10 years.

ARROJO Cosmetology School recently celebrated its 10 year anniversary early 2019 and Loretta shared these snippets & photos with us.

Congratulations on 10 years of ARROJO Cosmetology School, how was the party?

Thanks! The party was amazing, it was a full house of staff, graduates, students, friends and hairstylists past, present & future. The energy was fantastic and the graduate presentation was inspiring; for many of them it was their first time presenting on stage so there was lot of love in the room for them. Nick gave a speech and got several key staff up on the stage to say a few words including me.

Tell us, how did you manage to get such a great job in NYC?

I always wanted to live in New York City since I first visited in 1995. I did tons of research and visited several times a year while living in Bermuda (1996-2003) and spoke to many salon owners, product companies and educators to gather knowledge and find the best companies around. Nick’s name kept coming up and everyone had such good things to say about him and the brand so I applied.

Timing is everything and he was already very focused on education as part of the brand and was looking to start a Cosmetology School where students could come to learn their craft and become licensed (qualified) I had teaching experience and my eagerness came across in my lengthy application and supporting documentation, plus we both come from the North of England and have a similar background so it seemed like a good fit for both. 

I owe my greatest success to Nick for taking a chance on me to create and grow his school & education culture and trusting me to run with it, thankfully it worked out very well for both of us!

Did you write the programs for the school?

I got the school licensed & accredited, wrote all of the Cosmetology & Barbering fundamental & advanced curriculums in cutting, colouring, styling & American Wave, hired & trained all of the staff and created all of the systems. As this was a first for the brand I had to research outside sources & organisations to build myself a team of mentors to guide, help and support me as I am responsible for every aspect of the school to the outside sources that allow the school to open & operate. Nick has a very clear vision on where he wants his school to go, how it should run and standards to uphold so it gave me a blueprint to work from. It was and continues to be the biggest learning experience of my life and I am amazed at the snippets of information I have filed away over the last 10 years.

What do you love most about New York?

I love the vibrancy & energy generated by NYC plus it is the epic centre of fashion, beauty and creativity so there is no better place to be involved in the hair industry than here. I am also a photographer so it is the perfect backdrop for capturing inspiring shots and wandering aimlessly during weekends.

Bermuda, wow how was that?

It was an amazing experience. I made some of my best friends there who are still great friends today. Hairdressing is completely different there due to the semi tropical climate and intense heat. Products react differently in high humidity so less is more, most colour services are colour correction due to the sun and the first question I asked my clients was “do you ride a bike?” (moped) as the hair needed to be either short enough to sit under the helmet or long enough to tie up, no in-between lengths! I learned to work with different hair types & textures and the true meaning of running out of colour when there was none to be found on the island! 

10 years is quite an achievement, looking back how was it?

I cannot believe it has been 10 years as at times it still feels brand new but then I look at how much the school has grown and the successes of the graduates and I can’t imagine it ever not being there. I have learned so much about topics I had no idea I needed to know about.

The graduates are my proudest moments and every day I am thankful for the amazing students who have come through the doors and trusted us for their education. I see many graduates daily as they are now part of the ARROJO Studio team (ARROJO Studio has 3 salons in NYC offering professional services for over 18 years) and to see them progress from assistant to stylist and eventually educator is truly a testament to an intense fundamentals education and working immersed in a strong education culture with structure, growth & opportunity

It didn’t happen by chance though and my strong education background meant I knew there had to be rules, regulations and discipline to create a structure for progression, growth, accountability & success. Maintaining standardization as the team & facilities grown ensures I have to continuously find new ways to connect with my team, inspire & educate them and provide opportunities for growth while holding them accountable professionally.

The school started off with a team of 2 including me and is now a 2 school facility with over 20 full time talented, enthusiastic staff & access and support from over 100 licensed stylists in 3 salons. We are proud to offer employment to so many staff in a variety of roles, have 3 fantastic salons to offer consideration for employment options to high achieving graduates plus a network of over 500+ salons as a career option for graduates depending upon what they are looking for.

You won an Award recently, tell us about that?

I was awarded the Women Making Waves Award for my contribution to the industry and my photograph is displayed in the ARROJO Tribeca Heroes Hallway alongside Nick’s industry Heroes & Mentors such as Vidal Sassoon, Horst Rechelbacher, Vivienne Mackinder, Annie Humphries and more, it is a huge honour and I am eternally grateful for the amazing opportunities my career has allowed me and proud to play such a pivotal role at ARROJO. 

How different is American hairdressing education than British?

American hairdressers need a license to practice and work towards a final state board written & practical exam upon graduation whereas British hairdressers work towards a qualification through continuous assessment.

Every state has different requirements for topics taught, guided learning hours to be clocked and criteria for completion. In New York a Cosmetology student must clock 1000 hours of learning (8 months) covering 13 different topics and pass a written & practical exam to obtain a license to work as a hairdresser. A salon is not allowed to employ anyone to touch the hair without a license therefore even shampoo assistants need to be licensed.

I worked in a local, well-known salon from the age of 16 and went to college for 2 years when I was training and felt like a “real hairdresser” when I was qualified. I then worked as an assistant for a further 12 months before being full time on the salon floor by the age of 19. I worked there for a total of 10 years and am ever Thankful for aspiring to work at quality salons that value ongoing training. 

I believe that the status of being qualified (or licensed) gives a stylist a level of quality to continually aspire to meet and exceed which is why I believe in mandatory registration to uphold & maintain standards and for quality assurance.

What is next for the ARROJO Brand?

ARROJO has been around as a brand for almost 20 years and is well known & respected throughout North America as an education brand, product company, quality brand salon and for extensive skills in razor cutting. Since I joined the team over 10 years ago the number of salons has tripled from 1 to 3, the team has more than doubled in size, there are 3 product lines within the brand and plans for growth across all aspects. Safe to say there is never a dull moment, always something happening and always opportunity for growth.

And what is next for you?

I am working on training up a team of Directors to manage all aspects of running 2 schools and expanding the team to meet the demands of a growing school facility with teaching & support team to allow me to focus on other educational aspects of the brand. 

The Advanced Education market is changing with the popularity of online education plus ARROJO now has multiple distributors who service the 500+ ARROJO Ambassador accounts across the USA to provide product & education. Currently the ARROJO Studio salon staff education team travel to multiple states on a weekly basis to teach InSalon classes & events, we are in the process of also growing an Art team from our Ambassador Salons to offer more opportunities, more local education and brand growth while maintaining quality and standards.

Personally I am also growing my photography brand to supply images to independent consumers and local businesses.  

www.picturethisphotographynyc.com

Thanks for chatting today Loretta, Congrats again, here’s to the next 10 years!  

[muslimsonic]

ADHD: Executive Dysfunction

Alright, so I’ve been seeing a lot of stuff about how people struggle with understanding what ADHD is, how it operates, and how it differs from the experiences of the middle 50% [25%-75%] considered the average. And I didn’t research ADHD for 9 hours straight not to dump all of this here.

Note: I have ADHD, I’ve researched this, but I am not a medical professional blah blah blah ok now onto the fun interesting stuff!!!! 

I put this under a cut bc its,,,, longish.

What is executive functioning?

Executive functioning is what carries you from day to day tasks. It’s like the constantly active personal assistant in the back of your head. Let’s call them Effie. Effie constantly makes lists and breaks down tasks for you! I don’t mean large projects, I mean the simple stuff!

Like doing your laundry.

If you have ADHD, or anything with executive dysfunction as an issue, then you probably already know that the simple stuff hardly ever feels simple.

Doing your laundry requires many motions, most of which you omit in listing what you must do to complete this task.

Someone with executive functions in working order, probably

1. Take the laundry basket/bin/thing to the washing machine

2. Put the laundry in the washing machine

3. Put the detergent in the machine

4. Turn on the machine

5. When it is ready, put the clothes in the dryer

6. Collect the clothes when finished

7. Take them back to your room

8. Fold and put away

Tada! All done. There are quite a few steps omitted that you would consider givens. However, try and apply this precise list to someone with executive dysfunction, and you will most likely not have the same success, because of the number of places where steps conflict, being thrown out in favor of what is done immediately. Here’s a small idea of how many cracks are in this plan, even at step one:

1. Take the laundry basket/bin/thing to the washing machine

When?> I’ll do it after I finish what I’m doing > Oh no I just remembered something else > What did I forget to do? > Oh no now I have no clothes for work/school/whatever > MISSION FAILED

When?> Someone else is using the washing machine now, i’ll do it later > What did I forget to do? > Oh no now I have no clothes :( > MISSION FAILED

Why? > I have enough clothes right now, I’ll be fine > Oh no I ran out of clean socks + underwear > MISSION FAILED

What?> There’s no detergent so I can’t do this  > (at the grocery store) I think i have everything! > Oh no i forgot detergent > I have no clean clothes :( > MISSION FAILED

When?> I have too much free time so I’ll do it after I take care of this other thing that’s equally important > Oh no I forgot to do my laundry I don’t have anything to wear > MISSION FAILED

In what order? > There’s too much to do and they are all registered in my head as permanently equal priority so I have to do them all at the same time, but I can’t do them all at the same time, so I physically am unable to proceed until this loop/error is resolved.

What extra steps are involved?> Huh i know i have to take my laundry to the washing machine, but there’s also stuff in the washing machine area/on the way there that needs to be moved in order to do it, but I haven’t thought of that, instead seeing metaphorically an indistinct looming mass of extra equal priority work around taking my laundry to the washing machine > I don’t do it > MISSION FAILED

And that’s only a few of the cracks in step one.

See the problem?

Let’s take a closer look at how deep it goes. Do you know how much you rely on executive functioning in your day to day life? Yes? No? How did you get out of bed this morning? How did you open your eyes? Everything you do, even running away from something chasing you, is dependent on executive functioning. Memory. Recall. Starting anything, and I mean anything. Breaking down what needs to be done. You’re so used to it, you see a lot of the steps as givens not needed to be stated. When do you do this? What priority level is this? Every success you’ve had in your life, you would not have had without your executive functioning.

It’s the messenger, sending signals from the hub, recall this, you have to do this, this task is more important than this, this is what you’re going to do. It translates thought into action, idea into concept into reality. It’s the Director, streamlining things, going into crisis management when you make a major mistake or fail to do something, or have something due, or or or. Granted, executive functions aren’t the be all end all of human success, but they are to you as a foundation is to a building.

Scary to think what would happen if it just

stopped.

You could think all you want, of course. You need to do this. You want to do that. You scream and rail and fight against a prison of your own unresponsive limbs.

There’s nothing physically wrong with your limbs. They are in perfect working order. Or at least as working as they had been before. There’s no reason for you to feel like this. You feel like your brain is setting itself on fire in its attempts to send it messages to get a response any kind of fucking response. You feel hopeless. You gain no mental traction. You gain nothing but your own hatred and frustration and gain the same of others too.

Because they think you’re faking it. That you just don’t want to do it hard enough. That you just need to apply yourself.

The thing is, you’ve been trying. Your mind is a car in a swamp, uselessly running its wheels to no avail, sinking deeper and deeper into the muck. You are straining as hard as you possibly can. There’s no more gas in the tank. You have nothing left to give.

And you have nothing to show for it.

In this hell, you’ve accomplished nothing. You’ve succeeded at nothing. Nothing you do, nothing you say, and nothing you want can ever happen in this moment.

You almost feel like dying. But you can’t. You can’t, not because of will to live, not because of hope, and not because of love, but because you cannot get your limbs to remember what motion is, your brain to remember the past, and your heart to remember restraint. Frustration, anger, hatred, all of the ugliest emotions the soul has to offer spill over. You feel like you can never be happy again. That you’ve never felt happy before. That this awful feeling crawling into the crevices of your lungs and trachea and curling its way around your stomach and spleen is what you will feel like for the rest of your life.

And then you forget. You forget everything that got you to that point. the wave recedes. you feel nothing. you remember only blurs of what occurred at best. only to experience the same fucking thing again, and again, and again and its always as raw and drowning as the first time you felt it, you never grow used to it, and it will never stop, it will never cease, and no one believes you when you say you are trying. You are a soul inside a vessel that doesn’t want to be yours.

anyways! while this may seem like an extreme, the last few paragraphs are a pretty solid descriptor of how living with executive dysfunction feels like! this is also a solid reason why people with ADHD are more likely to have anxiety and depression! the same thing is characteristic of people with disorders that have executive dysfunction as a symptom!

so TL;DR: Executive Dysfunction is not the same as laziness; it is a fundamental difference in the brain structure and wiring or a deficiency in neurotransmitter production.

speaking of that, moving onto the physiological side of executive dysfunction! Yes! There’s actually a physiological side to ADHD! Pretty sure that’s a characteristic of all brain disorders illnesses and the like but people still say its fake! :D

ok i’m getting tired so heres the rundown:

lower catecholamine levels: catecholamine is a class of neurotransmitter that includes fun stuff like

Dopamine: the motivation sauce

Seratonin: Happy Happy Happy

Adrenaline: you put this in epipens. fight or flight

Noradrenaline: also fight or flight. includes attention as well. at higher levels, anxiety. Thanks, God.

Its bad. bc the body’s natural reward system (dopamine) isn’t at normal levels, the nice little feel good kick after you make your bed or brush your teeth?? nope!!!!!!! Thus there is little internal motivation to do anything. WOW!!! How did adhd get passed down in the gene pool???? is it recessive?? bc im rly at a loss. idk someone with a medical degree in brain science dm me abt it. I rly need to understand.

Also the frontal lobe, y’know the thing controlling judgment, morals, impulses, emotions, all of that fun stuff???? it’s usually behind in development, typically evening out mid to late twenties, but its still,,,,, not Great. Wow!!

White matter abnormalities are apparently a thing too?? White matter is the brains messaging system so when that’s messed up I’m pretty sure thats not a good thing.

anyways, i’m tired now, its been 2 hrs since i’ve started writing this and I have a metric ton of things that I needed to start but didn’t, so

TL;DR: ADHD (and by further extent, executive dysfunction)has a basis in science and has physiological stuff associated with it that (i think since MRIs aren’t being used to diagnose adhd) is just being studied recently, and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh google exists use it b4 getting into arguments abt the existence of disorders and such. plz. im begging you.

[whenyouworkatamuseum]

Museum Dance Off 5: The Last Dance

This is your official notice to start planning your Museum Dance Off 5: The Last Dance videos! 

As you might have surmised from the title of this year’s edition, this is the last planned Museum Dance Off competition. I am *amazed* at how much energy the museum community has put into this competition the last 5 years, and it’s a truly astounding journey to have taken. Everyone one of those videos has brought me pure joy. However, after Museum Dance Off 4, I received some really vitriolic attacks. I mean, I know the internet can be full of jabronis, but I liked that our corner of it was free from the trolls. Well, the trolls found us. They scared me. They took the joy right out of it. I actually didn’t plan to do another Dance Off because of this. (That’s all I’m going to say about it / please don’t ask.) 

But you guys, wow, you guys will not let Dance Off go! Some of you have already filmed your entries for this year! You email me every day asking when the deadlines will be! 

So, I decided to throw one last blast and go out on top. To have something for for 5 years on the internet is an amazing feat in and of itself, so let’s end this on a high note. Life today is different than it was five years ago. Jobs are different, families are different, everything in the world is different. MDO is a major time and financial commitment and the current model isn’t sustainable with current responsibilities and commitments. Depending on what happens over the course of this competition, our little judge’s committee is  considering new formats for next year that will still highlight our community, and still keep you dancing, but it will be a different animal than what we’ve done the last 5 years. 

Anyway. If you’ve ever wanted to enter, this is the time to do it. 

THE IMPORTANT STUFF: 

Entries must be submitted by 11:59 pm (EDT) on Monday March 26th, 2018.  (see below for more info on submitting your video).  Voting will begin on April Monday, April 16th. (More details on that later.)  

Like Museum Dance Off 4, the match-ups will be by Region, and regions will compete in different rounds until a Regional Champion is declared. The winners of the Regional rounds will go on to compete in the final Thunderdome Round.

Since this is an *International* Dance Off, we hope that these regional rounds will put people on more even footing in terms of time zones. Plus, each region will have a Champion Museum! It won’t eliminate time zone differences, but it should help greatly reduce the night and day peak voting differentials up until the Thunderdome Round.

In previous years, the bulk of our entries (about 80%) have come from the US and Canada, so we are dividing those into Eastern and Western Divisions (see below for definitions).  The Eastern and Western Division winners will compete against each other to become the Regional winner, who advances to the Thunderdome Round.

After the entry deadline, when we know how many museums we have and from where, we will announce the final voting schedule and notify the museums about when they will be up.

Same as last year, the Regions are:

United States (Eastern Division - States & Territories East of the Mississippi River. Western Division - States & Territories West of the Mississippi River)

Canada (Eastern Division - Manitoba, Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, Newfoundland and Labrador, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island. Western Division - Alberta, British Columbia, Saskatchewan, & All Territories)

UK/Western Europe

Asia

Australia, New Zealand & Oceania

Eastern Europe*

South America*

Africa*

Antarctica*

One winner from each of these regions will enter the Thunderdome finale!

*We’ve never had an entries from these regions before, but we’re really hoping this might be the year we do! If no one enters from these regions, they will be dropped. If only one museum enters in a division, it will be grouped into the division with the closest time zone. 

Entries are due by 11:59 pm (EDT) on Monday March 26th, 2018. Submit your entry here: http://bit.ly/MDO5EntryForm. 

Voting begins on Monday, April 16, 2018 at 8:00 am EDT.

Here are your general guidelines for submitting a video, and an FAQ for submitters/voters.

General Guidelines For Submitting A Museum Dance Off Video

Entries are due by 11:59 pm (EDT) on Monday March 26th, 2018. No exceptions!

Voting will begin on Voting will begin on Monday, April 16th. at 8:00 am EDT.

Any organization in the GLAM (Gallery, Library, Archive, Museum) family is welcome to enter. if your organization cares for artifacts and objects of scientific, cultural, historic or artistic value and importance, and you deal with the crap we complain about on this blog every day, you’re qualified to enter.

Entries should be no less than 2 minutes and no longer than 5 minutes.

Museum Dance Off is an inclusive event, so please select a soundtrack/song that does not contain gender, ethnic, religious or sexual/sexual identity slurs. We may reject entries if the songs contain offensive language. But we realize that can be somewhat subjective, so if you’re not sure, just email us and we’ll discuss it.

Staff, volunteers, docents, interns, family, friends and visitors are welcome to participate. Follow your organization’s internal policies for recording the public, or any person under the age of 18.

Museums who entered any previous Museum Dance Off are eligible to enter Museum Dance Off 5.

Upload your submission to YouTube or Vimeo. If those platforms are blocked in your country, please email us to work something out.

To enter, complete the Museum Dance Off 5 Entry Form at http://bit.ly/MDO5EntryForm. 

Community partnerships and collaborations to produce your video are welcome and encouraged, but you cannot hire a professional video production company to produce a video for you.

Museums that are part of a campus, cultural collective, system, or in the same city, state or province, may collaborate and submit one video to represent multiple museums.

FAQ

What is Museum Dance Off 5: The Last Dance?

It’s the fifth and final annual international dance off competition featuring the the upstanding professionals from museums, galleries, libraries and archives around the world showing off their best dance moves. Take a look here to see some of the AMAZING submissions from the Original Museum Dance Off 1,  Museum Dance Off 2: Electric Boogaloo,  Museum Dance Off 3: Tokyo Drift, and Museum Dance Off 4: A New Hope!  And watch the trailers for MDO2, MDO3, and MDO4! 

How Does Museum Dance Off 5 work?

You pick a song, and convince your interns, colleagues, volunteers, docents, friends, family and maybe even your visitors to dance to it. Somebody videotapes it, uploads it, submits the link and then we all vote online for our favorites. This year, museums will compete by Region, and the Regional winners will go to an international finale, The Thunderdome, to determine the overall Champion.  

Why should my museum enter Museum Dance Off?

Because it’s fun. Museums are fun. Dancing is fun. Dancing in a museum: instant super mega-fun.

It’s also a chance to show your guests a different side of their favorite museum, and rally your community to vote for you. From an internal perspective, it’s a chance for staff to take a break from the routine and do something fun, creative and different. From a PR perspective, it’s a chance to engage audiences all over the world. In the last three years, several museums received local, national, and international media coverage online, via television and radio, and in print.

How is the competition structured?

This year, Museums will compete against others in regions before advancing to a final Thunderdome Round to determine the winner.  That means instead of only 2 museums entering the Thunderdome, one winner from each Region will have a chance in the final round. Winners are determined by online voting.

What do we win?

Winner gets a trophy and bragging rights. There is glory, but no fortune. There will also be Judge’s Choice Awards in categories to be announced later.

My museum doesn’t have a lot of AV or filming equipment. Can we partner with another museum in our community who does have that stuff?Absolutely! Community collaborations are welcome and very highly encouraged. You could also consider partnering with a local school, college, or cultural organization to produce a video. But, you can also create something amazing with just a camera phone and open source editing software. A big production budget and fancy equipment is not a requirement for entry.

What does it cost to enter?

Nothing. This is a labor of love. There are no fees to enter or vote.

How will I know when my museum is up for voting?

When you enter, you will designate a contact person for your museum. We will email that person the schedule one week in advance of the voting during Round 1, and send ongoing updates throughout the competition.

What is no other museums from my region enter?

If there are no other entries in your division, you will be grouped into the Region that has the most similar time zone. We will contact you if that’s the case.

How do we let people know to vote for us?

Reach out to your visitors and use social media to spread the word. Your loyal, loving visitors will vote for you if you ask. This is a competition about making a great video, but it’s also about rallying your supporters, promoting your contribution to your community, and celebrating your awesome collection and staff.  Social Media promotion can make-or-break your chance at winning the round so make sure to make the most of it.

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Vote for your favorite video.

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Anyone can vote, from anywhere in the world.

Voting for each pair will be open for 24 hours. All start and end times will be synced to the US Eastern Time Zone, because that’s where most of the Museum Dance Off organizers are based.

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I am a reporter/journalist and I would like to talk to you more about Museum Dance Off.

Great! Email Maggie G. @ whenyouworkatamuseum at gmail dot com with the details and someone will get back to you.

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[kpopfanfictrash]

Chem Miss

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Content Contributors: @daegusoftboys (her moodboards for the series are perfection)

Pairing: Reader / Jimin

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex, dirty talk)

Word Count: 12,807

Summary: “You’re my TA. I’m in your class. I’m sure you don’t want to spend your Saturday night talking to me about biochem.”

Jimin appears amused by this. “Who’s to say that I don’t? Also,” he leans in, a slight smile on his lips. “Who says we have to talk about Chemistry?”

It is never an easy thing, to be the only woman in the room.

From the second you chose your major, you knew you’d deal with this often. It’s intimidating to be the only one of anything in a place; to walk through the doors, see a sea of suits staring back and realize no one else is wearing a skirt. Eyes glancing up, scanning your frame and knowing with near-certainty most of them are assessing you on a binary scale. Would, or would not, fuck.

Most of the time you let their gazes pass. Most of the time, you don’t even notice but today it’s hard because today, the lights of the class are like beacons, shining from above making your way down the aisle. In every class before this one, you make it a point to sit in the first row; it’s something you’ve done since freshman year of Undergraduate.

Some people see this as being a kiss-ass but to you, it means you’re the first person noticed. The first one to be recognized, the one that people remember and that’s the spot that you want. Especially in a field as competitive as yours, biophysics: the understanding of biological functions in terms of chemical and physical principles. You’ve just begun your first year of graduate school, which means some of your courses still overlap with other fields and specializations.

This certainly explains the words on the chalkboard as you walk down the rows: Modern Chemistry for Innovation, I. The continuation of chemistry is necessary in your profession, since biochem and biophysics often overlap. You take a lot of the same seminars, end up trying to answer a lot of the same questions, it’s just that the method of achieving said answer is different. One focuses on chemical compounds and the other observes how said structures interact with one another, according to physics. There are many fields your major can lead to, but your passion is nanotechnology; nanomedicine specifically, or the creation of biological machines.

Which is why you’re excited for today. The Professor for Modern Chemistry for Innovation, I, Doctor Stephens, is a leading researcher of medical chemistry. He and his team lead the field in biomimicry and medicine and you’re excited to discuss the overlap between this and biophysics, especially given the increased emphasis in the community on environmental ramifications.

That’s another passion you hold – responsible science and in your free time you run a blog, with what little free time remains. By day you’re Y/N – graduate biophysics student, struggling to get by but by night you’re Chem Miss – a blog dedicated to real life problems, rooted in science. The name is a bit of a misnomer, since you’re currently studying biophysics but when you first began undergraduate, you thought your major would be Chemistry. Hiding the tab on your laptop, you know you can’t think about the blog until later. There are more than a few unanswered asks in your inbox, but you’re not very good at multitasking.

Instead, you pull up a blank page, flipping back to last night’s reading and readying yourself to take notes. While you’re busying yourself with peparations, a man enters the front of the room. He emerges from the door to the right of the chalkboard and at first, you think nothing of this. Continuing to skim the articles before you, you continue to read until he stops at the blackboard. He pauses there for so long, you eventually look up.

For a moment you’re speechless, thrown by how handsome he is. That is definitely not Professor Stephens; you know Professor Stephens, have read his work multiple times over. You’ve seen the dust jackets of his works and know Professor Stephens is older, in his late forties with graying hair and a Romanesque nose. The man at the front of the classroom can’t be much older than you are.

Early to mid-twenties, blonde hair pushed casually back from his forehead, there are square, black glasses perched on the end of his nose while he stares nervously down at the paper before him. His lips move, though no noise comes out, as though he’s repeating something to himself, over and over. Gaze flickering up, he quickly looks down, meeting the eyes of no one here before turning to write something on the board.

Assistant Professor, Park Jimin.

Jimin wipes both hands on his jeans, leaving chalk stains before he moves to the podium. Bending down, he plugs in his laptop into the power strip, tinking with wires before shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

When you realize you’re staring, you quickly look down. Your pulse is still racing though, hammering between breaths because holy hell, is this man gorgeous. With dark eyes, slanted cheekbones and a jawline you swear you’ve only seen in magazines – Jimin is beautiful and when he reaches up to tug down the projector, you get an excellent shot of his perfect rear end.

Shit. Fingers tapping at your keyboard, you debate whether to Google him or not before deciding, what the hell? Park Jimin, you type, adding, biochemistry at the end. Biochemistry is Professor Stephens’ field of research, which makes it logical to assume his assistant is the same. As soon as you press enter, there are hits.

Holy shit. You lean forward, nose inches away from the screen while you take in the headlines.

Park Jimin, Child Prodigy Attends Stanford University at Age 16

Stanford University Undergraduate Brings in Large Grant Money for Continued Research

Park Jimin, Rhodes Scholar, to Study Chemistry at Oxford

Stanford University Alumnus, Park Jimin to Join Research Team of George Stephens at Bangtan University

The articles are never-ending – a constant stream of achievements which makes your head spin because you thought you were accomplished, you were successful. To have made it thus far in this program, holding the scholarships you do – you thought you were doing great.

Park Jimin, it appears, is a different story. Your gaze slowly lifts up.

He’s looking away from you, staring intently at the board. Studying his handwriting with a frown, as though unsatisfied with the product. Jimin walks forward quietly, fingertip hovering for a moment before wiping away the dot on his last “i.” You watch, eyebrows raised as Jimin rewrites, drawing a small, perfect circle before taking a step back.

Jimin turns around, surprised to find thirty eyes looking back. He blinks, slightly owlishly before clearing his throat. “Hello,” he nods. “I am Park Jimin, I’ll be assisting Professor Stephens in Modern Chemistry for Innovation, I.” He glances up at the clock. “Since it’s now 9:00 AM, let’s begin.”

When he turns to face the board, someone slides into the seat beside you. “Wow,” your roommate, Liz’s hair falls crazily over one eye. “Who is that?”

Blushing, you lower in your seat while hoping, praying Jimin can’t hear. “That’s the TA,” you mutter, still not looking her way. “And shh – we’re in the front row.”

“Well, whose fault it that?” Liz grumbles, pulling open her binder. She turns to a blank page, sticking a pen in her mouth. “I would have preferred to sit in the back.”

Jimin turns, zeroing in on your roommate. “Introductions,” he announces, raising a brow. “You, you seem to have a lot to say. Stand, please,” he announces, waving a hand to pull up Excel on his computer. “Name?”

Liz blinks but stands, slowly lowering her backpack to the ground. “Elizabeth Castor,” she announces. “Biochemistry.”

“Mm,” Jimin quickly highlights and bolds Liz’s name. He’s not using the mouse – god, who is this guy? Here he is, standing at the front of a science course, using Excel like a business major. “Your major isn’t necessary, just your name will suffice. Next,” Jimin drones, turning to the next seat – which happens to be you.

It might be your imagination, but it seems like Jimin’s expression falters. He recovers quickly, but there’s a brief moment where your pulse flutters in response. A mere second where his lips part expectantly, and you realize you haven’t stood up.

“Y/N,” you shoot to your feet, struggling to right your laptop with one hand. “I’m biophysics – I mean, shit, I’m sorry. You don’t care about my speciality – I’m Y/N.”

Just the corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts. “That’s alright,” he nods, allowing a brief pause before turning to the guy right behind you. “Next?”

Slowly, you sink back to your seat, lowering your gaze to control your pulse. This is so unlike you, to be flustered by a look, caught off guard by a smile. You’re the solid one, the logical one; your reaction must just be because Park Jimin is so accomplished. He’s so worldly, incredibly successful at such a young age; it’s led to an aspirational crush, nothing more.

It’s just as you think this, Liz slides you a note.

So. When do you think office hours start?

Nearly snorting in response, you catch yourself just in time.

I didn’t know you were so anxious to meet with Professor Stephens.

Liz frowns, yanking her pen from her mouth to scribble.

Not him. Look at the ASS on Jimin, I’d love nothing more than to bite –

“Liz!” you gasp, crushing all evidence of the note in your fist. Liz starts to giggle and you blush, staring down at your desk as Park Jimin clears his throat.

“Everyone is here. Almost everyone is on time,” he adds, with a pointed glance at Liz, “so, let’s begin. Professor Stephens will unfortunately not be in attendance today. He will return for Wednesday’s class. My name is Park Jimin,” Jimin announces, pointing to his name on the board. “As I said previously, I will be assisting Professor Stephens this semester. Office hours are Wednesday and Friday from 4:00 to 6:00 PM, but feel free to reach out to me at any time for private tutoring. I am always available – my contact information is on the back of the syllabus sheet.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Liz trying not to laugh. Jimin looks down, seemingly having no idea of how his words have affected the class. For such an intelligent person, he doesn’t have much self-awareness. Curiously, you wonder if he even realizes how hot he is, how every female gaze is trained on his body. In response, every male gaze is sulking, sensing that they’re missing out on some prime opportunity.

Jimin flicks his wrist, moving on to the slides. “Biomimicry,” he announces, looking up from the screen. “An emerging field, one of the most promising of the twenty-first century. Applicable to all areas of science, biomimicry is a concept of innovation. It’s the idea of taking solutions found in nature and applying them to artificial substances.”

Flipping onto the next, Jimin points up at a shark and a wetsuit. “There are millions of successful demonstrations of biomimicry. This example in particular, is that of the skin of a shark, which is made up of overlapping scales called dermal denticles. These scales serve a dual purpose; the first reduces drag time in the water but they also discourage the growth of bacteria. By taking this concept and applying this to a modern wetsuit, we can increase the speed of humans in the water.”

Jimin pauses, flipping again. “Going back to the other function of dermal denticles though – bacteria doesn’t easily grab onto its surface. Which means that the presence of both bacteria and disease are significantly reduced by this texture.” Jimin arches a brow, flipping to a new picture. “Some of you are probably wondering what relevancy this has to you. Here,” Jimin allows, pointing up at a picture of a hospital. “By creating tools with a similar scale structure, we can reduce the rate of infection in hospitals.”

There’s a general shifting, murmuring through the class. “This next example is a sandcastle worm,” Jimin announces. “They create a natural, strong adhesive from the tiniest particles of sand. What if we applied this concept to say, shattered bone fractures?”

When he speaks, Jimin’s eyes brighten because he clearly loves to talk about this, is enthused by it’s possibilities. He’s passionate because he’s right – biomimicry can be applied anywhere. It’s exciting to consider applying this concept to nanotech.

You’re so absorbed in Jimin’s lecture that when he reaches the end of the presentation, you’re surprised. Jimin clicks next to display a black screen with The End, shutting his laptop and clearing his throat.

“We have three minutes remaining,” Jimin announces, surveying the class. “Are there any questions?” He looks at the back, noticing a hand raised in the air. “Yes?”

“What’s it like, being so young and on Dr. Stephens’ research team?” a female voice asks, dissolving into giggles when her friend tugs her lower.

Jimin flushes, looking down at the counter. “Humbling,” he admits, looking back up. “Any other questions? No? Then we’ll reconvene on Wednesday. Have a good day.”  

The classroom comes to life, conversation and the scraping of chairs filling the room. You move to stand, Liz grabbing the pen from her mouth as she sticks the cap back on. “Well,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder while the two of you climb the stairs. “That was interesting.”

“Oh?” you ask.  “How so?”

Liz glances again at the boards before turning back around. “Well for one,” she grins, lowering her voice. “Park Jimin can’t stop staring at your ass.”

You whirl around, meaning to look but Jimin is looking studiously down at his notes.

“Well, not anymore,” Liz corrects, as you turn back to face her.

“Yeah, okay,” you laugh, pulling on your jacket. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you, Liz.” Grinning, you ignore Liz’s noise of protest while you exit the room.

Later that night, you sit in front of your laptop, flicking through tabs while drinking a glass of wine. Scanning your blog, you find the post you made last night, skimming the entry to note a few thousand notes at the bottom.

Chem Miss: On Responsibility

Perhaps a concept not discussed enough is the intersection between scientific research and scientific responsibility. Too often we confuse genius with integrity when mostly, the two seem mutually exclusive. When one discovers a new principle, a new science, a new formula and so on – who decides how science is utilized? Who decides the implementation, its rules, the method, the time? I argue it should be the scientist. I argue its our job not just to further humanity, but improve it. To guide our species towards not just a more sophisticated future, but a better one. Looking over my student course book, I find countless courses on innovation, principle, theory and research but it’s a rare thing indeed, to find one on humanity.

Odd, right – how the very people tasked with saving humanity, seem to be furthest from it?

Not everyone agrees, it seems. Scrolling through comments, you wince at some of the very flagrant remarks. You’re called childish, immature, unseeing, overbroad but for every negative comment, there are good ones. You perk up at this, reading more, scanning tags before moving your cursor to the message box.

24 new messages. Shit.

Most are a summarization of comments. People agreeing with you, disagreeing, picking apart your words and dissecting them. You answer each ask carefully, taking sips of your wine until your glass is finished and you hastily fill another, continuing until your head is hung so low, it’s nearly hitting the keyboard. Clicking on the last message, you barely register the URL before reading.

From: Mr.Ree

Alright, Chem Miss. What’s the solution, then? If what you say is true and the science community is far too consumed by their own glory to see the plight of the average human – how do you propose we change this? Whoops. As I type, I realize my words might come across aggressive – I didn’t mean it like that. You seem a bright, intelligent and kind person. I’m genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say.

You stare at this message for a while, unsure how to respond. You get a lot of messages a lot of input from a lot of different people but this is the first one in a long while that’s made you think. You sit back and stare at the screen, carefully outlining your response. What is your recommendation?

It takes a while to type and by the time you press post, you’re fairly certain Mr.Ree has gone to sleep.

Hi, Mr.Ree.

First off – lol at the URL. Punny. To answer your question – I don’t have a singular answer, I have many. I think the first step is, as always, education. I think Universities need to place as great an emphasis on ethical science as practical and from there, I think it becomes more complicated. It is in our nature to search, not because we need to but because we want to. As long as we have questions, we will seek answers – but as to how these answers are applied, there must be greater input. We must reach out to the voices of many – many backgrounds, many cultures, many ideologies to provide a balance of ethical decision making. Off to top of my head, maybe even the implementation of scientific whistle-blowing communities would assist in doing this. Overall, I preach awareness. It is a lonely sphere at the top. Who is there to police the head, but the head himself?

Without waiting for a response, you shut your laptop and go to sleep.

You’re eating dinner the following Saturday when your phone suddenly vibrates on the table.

Liz: The new girl who works in the library invited me to a party. Which means she invited us to a party. You’re coming with me, non-negotiable. [7:02 PM]

Y/N: Ahhhh… but I really wanted to watch Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and drink myself to sleep [7:04 PM]

Liz: You waited five months to watch the second season, it can wait another night. Pick out something hot, something that shows off your butt [7:06 PM]

Y/N: it’s starting to get cold, though! Also – I just ate Chipotle and have a food baby [7:07 PM]

Liz: Don’t forget to shave your legs, I’ll be home at 10:00 PM, be ready to leave [7:08 PM]

Despite your grumbling, you shove the rest of your Chipotle into the refrigerator and wander into your room to stare at your closet. Three hours pass in a whirl of steam and curling irons and before you know what’s happening, you stand on a doorstep. Arms firmly crossed, shivering while you wait for Liz’s headlights to swing into the driveway.

“You wore a dress!” she cheers, watching you enter the passenger seat.

Scowling, you slam her door shut. “And I’m freezing, because of it.”

“Who cares?” Liz grins, putting the car in reverse. “You look great.”

Despite rolling of your eyes, you can’t help but laugh. “Where are we going?” you ask, as Liz turns on the end of the street.

“Not far,” is all she responds, turning up the music.

‘Not far’ ends up being a couple blocks over, as Liz pulls to a stop outside a non-descript apartment building. It’s beige on the exterior, beige on the interior and Liz stops at the valet to hand over her keys and enter the revolving doors. “Hi,” she chirps towards the doorman, leaning one arm on his counter. “We’re here to visit Apartment 2908. Min Yoongi.”

The man nods and picks up his phone, speaking to someone on the other end before setting back down. “All clear,” he nods, waving you on. “Elevators are on the far left.”

The apartment you enter is noisy, lights dim, smoke drifting in from the balcony where you see several people hanging out through glass doors. Music thumps in the background while a smaller, dark-haired someone stalks in from the hall. “Hey!” the man yells, scowling out at the porch. “Shut my fucking door, you assholes – it’s freezing!”

Then he turns around, spotting Liz. “Liz!” he grins, holding up a cup. “Sorry about that,” he exhale, walking forward. “This is why I hate throwing parties.”

Liz squints past. “No need to worry, Yoongi. It looks like your girlfriend has things under control.”

Yoongi glances sideways, to where a girl sullenly returns a megaphone to a shelf. He laughs, pushing hair back from his forehead. “She’s something else,” Yoongi agrees, glancing at you. “Who’s this?”

Flushing, you stick out your hand. “Y/N, I’m Liz’s roommate, I’m a graduate student studying biophysics at Bangtan University.”

“Ah,” Yoongi’s eyes light up. “Min Yoongi, Library Services. If you’re in biophysics, you must know my old roommate. Hey,” he calls, leaning around the corner. “Jimin! GET OVER HERE!”

You and Liz exchange a look when Park Jimin walks in. He’s holding a red solo cup in one hand, adjusting his glasses with the other; though when he sees the two of you, he stops. His gaze slides quickly over Yoongi and Liz to land on your face.

You stare back at him. “Hi,” you wave, wincing at how dull you must sound.

Jimin nods, looking at Yoongi. “Yeah?” he asks. “You called?”

Yoongi waves towards you both. “Y/N and Liz are studying biophysics and biology, respectively. Thought you might know them.”

Jimin’s brow furrows but before he can respond that he doesn’t, you interrupt. “We’re in your Modern Chemistry for Innovation, I class, Assistant Professor.”

A smile flits over Jimin’s lips, as Yoongi laughs. “Wow,” he grins, clapping Jimin on the back. “Assistant Professor – way to crack that whip, Park.” Yoongi’s eyes dance, searching the room. “Anyways, need to get back to you-know-who. See you all later, enjoy the party!”

Once Yoongi disappears, it’s just you, Liz and Jimin left. Then Liz spots someone and waves, nudging you forward with her elbow. “Got to go say hi to Javie,” she announces, waltzing past. “Come find me when you want to go, Y/N!”

When she leaves, you stare, mouth slightly ajar. Stomach sinking, thoughts scrambling, you try and combat your nausea by looking at Jimin. It has the opposite effect.  “Hi,” you repeat, wishing you had something more interesting to say.

To your surprise, Jimin’s smile widens. He doesn’t seem as nervous, outside the classroom – perhaps this has something to do with the half-finished drink in his hand. “Hey,” Jimin responds, not looking away. “You can just call me Jimin outside of class, you know.”

“Right,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “Jimin. I’m Y/N.”

He arches a brow. “I know.”

This throws you, somehwat. “You know?”

Jimin nods once more, taking a sip of his drink. “You were sitting in the front row. Easily noticeable.”

“Right,” you exhale, somewhat deflated. You look past him, to where Liz has disappeared onto the porch. “I think I’m going to get a drink.”

Jimin’s hand stops you, when you move past to leave. His hand slides to your elbow while your gaze meets and Jimin’s lips part, as though surprised by the gesture. “What would you like to drink?” he asks, clearing his throat.  

You blink. “If they have wine – then wine.”

Jimin’s lips quirk, and he nods. “Alright.”

He disappears then, heading straight towards the kitchen while you awkwardly lean a shoulder to the wall. Staring after him, the the door opens behind you and a group of people walk in, prompting you move. The living room is more crowded than the hall, which makes you wrap your arms tightly around yourself and wince.

This is why you hate parties. This is why, when Liz asks you out, you rarely agree. You’d rather be at home, talking with friends in an environment you choose and pulling your phone from your pocket, you scroll through your notifications. The message icon on your blog blinks and your finger hovers over the screen, about to open when –

“Your drink,” Jimin interrupts, soft.

He holds out a glass of red wine, one you gratefully accept. “Thanks,” you say, sliding your phone in your pocket. “You don’t have to talk to me, you know,” you hear yourself saying. When Jimin raises both eyebrows, you continue, “You’re my TA, I’m in your class. I’m sure you don’t want to spend your Saturday night talking to me about biochem.”

Jimin appears amused. “Who’s to say that I don’t? Also,” he leans in, slight smile on his lips. “Who says we have to talk about Chemistry?”

You stare back, momentarily unsure. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear Jimin was flirting with you. Then he pulls away, lifting his glass and turning sideways towards the room. The sleeves of his sweater are long, hanging down past the tips of his fingers to reach the black of his jeans. Jeans which hug his legs so tightly, you can’t help but wonder where Jimin is hiding his wallet.

“Well,” you manage, bringing his gaze back to yours. “What do you want to talk about?”

Jimin opens his mouth but before he can speak, someone bangs into him from behind. Jimin pitches forward, right hand finding the wall at your head and you suck in a breath, startled by the proximity. Jimin’s eyes are wide, staring at you. He seems as shocked by this as you are, hand trembling slightly around the width of his cup. You only notice this because you, yourself don’t know where else to look.

Jimin clears his throat, pushing backwards. “We could talk about – well,” he pauses, searching the room. “TV shows?”

You arch an eyebrow. “TV shows?”

Jimin nods. “What have you been watching?”

Shrugging genteely, you take a small sip of your wine. “Black Mirror.”

Something in Jimin brightens. “Really? Same! It’s fascinating to think about one tweak of technology or circumstance, bringing us to face similar paradoxes. Makes you realize how volatile everything is, really. Hm,” Jimin allows, thumb trailing the edge of his cup. “Wouldn’t it be fascinating, if we’re one of those universes? If somewhere out there is an alternate timeline, far better than our own – and we’re an episode of a TV show for them. One they point at and laugh.”

You nod, grinning. “Yes! That’s exactly what I love it,” you grin. “Like the episode on social media – it could so easily be true. We already somewhat allow the quantification of people. It brings so many interesting questions to light. Especially for the scientific community,“ you say – cutting yourself off at the expression on his face.

“Ah,” Jimin smirks, shaking his head. “I thought we weren’t talking about science tonight?”

Smiling back at him, you lean against the wall. “Oh, who was I kidding? We’re scientists, it’s how we see the world. Some people speak in rhyme, we speak in reason.”

Jimin’s eyes glint. “I’ve always found science to be more like poetry than anything else.”

“Oh?” You try, and fail, to curb your interest. “In what way?”

Jimin takes a sip from his drink, looking up at the room. Up until now, you’ve felt as though you were talking to just some guy. It’s now you remind yourself who Jimin is. It’s hard to remember that, when he’s looking at you that way. It’s hard to remember you’re not just two people meeting, two people flirting – Jimin is brilliant, and he’s entirely off limits. Knowing this doesn’t help though, not when your heart beats faster at just the tilt of his head.

“Maybe that’s the wrong phrasing,” Jimin admits. “Rather, I find art and science to be more alike than anything else. It’s the same question, answered in different languages, right? One captures our purpose through light, colors and shapes. The other captures our questions through math, logic, reasoning. Science seeks to understand who we are, what we are – what’s more artistic than that?”

You fall silent, just looking at him. Hearing your thoughts voiced aloud, it’s hard not to lean in, hard not to agree with everything Jimin says. There’s a moment of silence, as Jimin’s gaze falls to your lips and you need to respond, need to say something to stop him – but nothing comes to mind.

“Hey,” Liz appears out of nowhere, draping an arm around your shoulder. “There’s this guy on the porch – he saw you walk in, and was asking about you. Want to meet him?”

Glancing back at her, you make the abrupt decision. As your TA, Jimin is untouchable.  “Sure,” you announce, not letting yourself look in the direction of Jimin. “Why not?”

You don’t let yourself see him because you know if you do, you’ll stay and you know if you stay, you’ll talk for much longer and this crush on him will only grow. It’s barely enough it as is, you can hardly sit in the front row of his class and listen to him speak without wanting to jump his bones.

Because of this and many smiliar reasons, you turn reluctantly away. “Bye, Jimin,” you call out, allowing Liz to pull you onwards. The entire walk through the room and onto the porch, you force yourself not to look.

Since you’re not looking, you don’t see Jimin put down his drink. Since you’re not looking, you don’t see him place this on the counter and head straight out the door.  

Later, you are more than a little drunk. Collapsing in front of your laptop, you finally check the blinking message from earlier. Your heart beats faster, seeing the familiar URL.

From: Mr.Ree

I like your answer, Chem Miss. Education is the root, and all things stem from that. Humans will never stop searching – and isn’t that a beautiful thing? – but if we have conscious searchers, perhaps real change can be accomplished. P.S. your writing style is lovely, do you write for anything other than this blog?

Pulse racing, you type out a response.

Hello, Mr.Ree

Do you mean to ask if I write poetry? Not at the moment, no – but perhaps I can be persuaded. I often feel science is a kind of poetry, anyways…

You slam your laptop shut, unsure what you’re doing. Writing to some mystery sender, there’s only one face in the back of your mind: Jimin. Park Jimin, with his glasses and too-big sweater and hesitant smile. This, coupled with a cocky way of speaking and bright flush of his cheeks. It was such a struggle tonight not to kiss him, not to touch him and admit how you’re falling for him. Groaning out loud, you slide down low in your chair.

You need sleep. Setting half-drunk wine aside, you scoot away from your table and stumble into your bathroom. After your nightly regimen, you collapse face-first on your bed and fall asleep like that, practically before your face even hits the pillow.

If you dream of Jimin, you don’t remember.

Weeks pass in this manner.

When you enter the class that next Monday, Jimin blatantly ignores you. Or rather, he doesn’t ignore you – he just acts ike he doesn’t know you. Which is worse, you haven’t decided. Sitting down in the front row, you watch his gaze slip right over you, as though he didn’t even see you at that party. As though he didn’t speak to you, of poetry.

When he acts this way, you tell yourself it’s for the best. This is fine, because Jimin is your TA and htat’s why you left, after all – you left before you could find out more about Jimin and fall any furhter. Before he endeared himself to you more and you became thoroughly, and totally screwed.

It’s hard, though. Hard to watch him, week in and week out and not like him more. Sometimes Jimin lectures but more often, he just sits off to the side.  Legs spread while slumping low in his chair, chewing on the end of a pencil as he makes red notes in the margins.

You try not to look at him but it’s hard, when just the sight of Jimin is so damn distracting. His scent so intoxicating, it’s near-enough for you to drown in. This fact becomes apparent, one Wednesday in class when Jimin is passing out papers.

He’s informing you of something, you know he must be but all you can see is the movement of his lips. Dimly, you hear him informing that the last office hours before midterms are today and you nod, barely understanding the words.

He pulls back, going on to the next person but before he leaves, he gives you a look you can’t quite decipher. With your grades being near perfect, Jimin can’t possibly be asking you to attend for tutorial. Maybe he needs you to put in more face time, you reason. Perhaps Professor Stephens is the kind of guy who marks down how often each student attends, and Jimin is trying to help you pass.

Watching him travel the room, Jimin doesn’t appear to give the same warning to everyone. He passes back papers and notes, saying little to anyone but you and when he reaches the last, he looks up, gaze landing briefly on yours. His gaze is strangely dark, turning away.

Heart pounding, you place your laptop in your bag at the end of class. “Are you going to office hours?” you ask Liz, climbing the steps.

Liz nods, pushing both hands through the sleeves of her coat. “Yeah,” she sighs. “I have to. Got to make sure I pass the midterm.”

Making a noise of agreement, you fall into step beside her. “I think I’ll go, too.”

Liz looks up in surprise. “Okay. Sounds good – I’ll save you a seat.”

At 4:00 pm, you walk into room 112. You’re not sure what you expected, but the room is mostly quiet. Students are spread throughout the rows, quietly comparing notes and practice problems, with Jimin at the front, halfway bent over the desk of a girl you don’t recognize.

He’s pointing at her paper, explaining quietly despite her not looking anywhere near the problem. No, instead she stares at his lips, his jaw, that perfect piece of hair falling into his eyes and stomach tightening, you yank your bag higher and walk over to Liz.

“Hey,” she greets, scooting sideways.

"Hey,” you nod, sliding into the empty seat beside her. “What now?” you whisper, glancing up at the board. “Do we just… do homework for two hours?”

Liz taps her pen on the paper. “Review problems for the midterm,” she shrugs. “Or, you can outline your course paper, research the essay section. Anything you want,” she nods, pulling out her laptop as well. “Jimin is really great with helping out.”

Ignoring this information, you pull out your practice questions. As time passes and 6:00 draws nearer, Jimin never makes it up to your aisle. You watch him from the corner of your eye, while he moves down the rows but he never looks back, or if he does – you never see.

You wonder why he asked you to come, then, if he’s not even going to speak to you.

At 6:05 PM, Jimin looks up from his row. He’s seated beside Jackson, helping him work through a difficult case study and glancng down at his watch, Jimin clears his throat. “It’s five past six students, which means we have to vacate the room. If I didn’t make it to your table,” he announces, gaze faltering before meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry. If you need help before next week’s midterm, reach out to me privately and we can set up an outside study session.”

You look down. Pushing books into your waiting bookbag, you stand. “Come on,” you grunt, watching Liz stand as well. “Do you have anything more you need Jimin’s help with?”

Liz shakes her head, already scrolling through her phone. “Nah, I think I’m set. I’m going to run and get dinner, want to come?”

You’re about to say yes when, from the corner of your eye, you see Jimin raise a hand. He’s looking your way, making a gesture as though he wants you to stay. It’s so different from the way he’s been treating you, it’s hard not to be curious about what he wants. Hovering halfway from your seat, you debate with yourself. “Ah, no,” you sigh, glancing at Liz. “I just remembered something I wanted to ask Jimin. You go ahead.”

Liz shrugs and then leaves, calling out to text if you want anything. Most of the other students leave, too, just Jackson finishing packing up in the back. When he stands he smiles, waving once in your direction before turning away.

Now, it is just you and Jimin in the room.

Jimin looks up from his seated position; waiting, watching you walk closer.

“Yes?” you ask, reaching the side of his desk. “You wanted to speak with me?”

Jimin opens his mouth to respond – and then shuts it. “Are you going to apply for Dr. Stephens’ open research position next semester?” he asks bluntly.

Blinking back at him, you find yourself unnerved when Jimin pushes himself to stand. “I –,” you stop, shaking your head. “I don’t know. Isn’t it a biochemistry position?”

Jimin shrugs. “Biophysics can apply as well. Dr. Stephens’ research delves into both fields. You’d be a good fit,” he muses.

“Do you?” Staring down at his fingertips, which tap the edge of his computer bag, you frown. “Why?”

Jimin doesn’t seem thrown by the question, pushing his glasses higher. “You’re smart, intelligent and yes, most people here are but you were the only one who completed the extra credit on the last homework assignment. Not just that,” Jimin adds, seeing your response, “but your idea was a good one. Dr. Stephens thought so.”

“Did he?” you muse, gaze lifting to his. Unsure what you’re doing, you take an unsteady step closer. “And what about you? Did you think it was a good idea as well?”

This close to Jimin he smells like sage and sea salt; you get barely a whiff before he tugs on his coat. “I thought your response was brilliant,” he says softly.

The sincerity, the compliment to his words gives you pause. “Thank you.”

Jimin nods briskly. “I’m being honest, not kind.”

“Yes,” you allow. “That’s why I’m thanking you.”

Jimin’s gaze softens, mid-way through tugging on his gloves. He opens his mouth and you think he will say something more, something unrelated to chemistry and the thought makes you dizzy. Heat pours into your veins, renders you molten when he takes another step forward – one past you, out the door.

Jimin’s shoulder brushes yours, and you think that he shivers. “You should apply,” he reiterates, not looking back. “It would be nice working together in an outside environment… one where I’m not the one grading you.”

Turning to stare at his back, your insides twist contemplating the intent of his words. You wonder if Jimin is also interested, but too moral to act on it. If he’s too dedicated to education to ever make you feel compromised. You appreciate that, if that’s so and you understand Jimin’s hesitancy, yet –  your hands curl into fists at your sides. You want nothing more than to press your body to his and kiss him wildly, willingly. The need races through you, increasing with each second he stands silent.

Slowly, you nod. “I’ll consider it.”

Jimin exhales. “Alright,” he allows, tugging on his beanie with one hand and wrapping his scarf over his neck. Then he leaves, leaving you standing there in an empty room.

Empty, expect for your thoughts.

Empty, except for the lingering, maddening presence of him.

The midterm comes and goes.

You pass, Liz passes – nearly everyone in the class passes, thanks to Jimin. Dr. Stephens goes so far as to say it’s the highest cumulative average in all his years of teaching. Jimin sits by quietly when this is said, smiling and accepting none of the praise.

You watch Jimin, like you always do, watch him without meaning to since your gaze always drifts sideways, body shifts slightly. You’re attuned his presence and this fact drives you crazy, but you continue to push these feelings away because Jimin never looks back. He stares everywhere but you, helps everyone but you – you try and tell yourself you’re just being crazy.

It’s your imagination that he’s ignoring you, it must be.

It’s mid-November though, when Liz catches onto your crush. Not that this is earth-shattering news, by any means, since most of the people in the department have a large crush on Jimin. It’s hard not to, him being so handsome, smart and successful. Not just that, he’s a genuinely good person and wants to save the world. The week a girl in your class found Jimin’s profile in the Bangtan University brochure, things went a little crazy.

The pamphlet was passed around for a few days, your classrooms racked with giggles and whispers like you’d gone back to high school. Everyone was talking about how dreamy Park Jimin was but it was the quote beside the glossy photograph that was the kicker, really.                      

“The thing about science is – it’s also an art form. You stare at the canvas, hold your paintbrush and ask yourself how to make others see. How to bring light to the darkest of questions. Questions which, once answered, amount to the very essence of humanity. I guess that’s what I’m searching for in my lab – humanity.”

His words hit so close to what the two of you discussed at the party, you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to learn more about him, so you stalked him a bit on the internet. It was while you were scanning an article about Jimin’s time at Oxford, when Liz happened to peek over your shoulder.

That was at the beginning of November and despite it now being Thanksgiving, Liz refuses to let it go. “So,” she grins, keeping her voice down in the library. “What are you researching now? The slender curve of Park Jimin’s neck?”

You flush, glancing around. “Liz,” you hiss. “Stop it, I don’t even like him!”

“Ri-ght,” Liz snorts, twirling her pen in one hand. “Sure, you don’t. You just have a normal amount of educational respect for our brilliant teaching assistant.”

“Yes,” you say, busying yourself with copying over your notes. “Exactly.”

“Just a healthy appreciation for his work.”

“True.”

“Understandable gratitude, for the large amount of time he’s given us.”

“Yep.”

“And  the inability to look away from how fine his ass looks in those jeans.”

“Well, I – no, what,” your head jerks up. “No!”

Liz giggles, trying and failing to keep quiet. Suddenly you’re laughing as well, unable to stop yourself as the students from the next table glare.

“Sorry,” Liz whispers, raising her eyebrows. “She’s ovulating.”

You nearly choke, smacking her sharp on the arm. “Liz!”

You’re laughing so hard then, you don’t even notice him enter. All you see is Liz straightening, gaze zeroing in on someone behind you. “What?” you grin, turning halfway around.

That smile disappears when you recognize Jimin, deep in conversation with Yoongi. He’s smiling, running a hand through his hair and all your previous assertions to Liz fly straight out the window. Now that he’s here, with his crinkled eyes, wide smile – it’s impossible to deny your attraction. Your fingertips dig into the tabletop and before you can stop her – Liz waves a hand.

“Assistant Professor!” she calls, forcing Jimin’s head up. “Assistant Professor, Park Jimin!”

His gaze finds yours; only for a moment, before sliding to Liz. He pauses mid-stride, seeming to struggle while Yoongi glares angrily in your direction. It’s a silent promise to end Liz, should she yell in his library again. Your roommate winces, mouthing an apology and Jimin touches Yoongi’s shoulder, turning your way. Making his way through the library, he pulls of his hat to hold in his hands.

“Yes?” Jimin asks, reaching your table and studiously avoiding eye contact.

Liz smiles. “Y/N was just wondering what you’re doing over Christmas.”

“I – I wasn’t,” you hasten, suddenly flustered. “That’s not true,” you insist, voice ending in a squeak. You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing – the speak, or what Liz just said.

Jimin finally looks at you though, expression seeming as though he’s trying not to laugh.

Liz does laugh, though softly. “I’m kidding, that’s not what Y/N asked. We were just talking about bioinspired molecular machines and,” your roommate points at her screen. “Did you read this article? We were wondering what you thought of the research currently happening at Tohoku University?”

Jimin’s expression flattens, looking where her finger points. “Right,” he exhales, shaking his head.

When he starts to answer, you look away. Flipping open the tab you’ve kept hidden and re-reading the messages you’ve recently received. You and Mr.Ree have been talking since the start of the semester and at some point, you moved on to private messenger.

You’re not sure when the conversation became about things other than science but it did, and there’s no turning back from that now.

Mr.Ree: You have a sister, right?

Chem Miss: Two sisters, actually. One older, one younger

Mr.Ree: Are you close?

Chem Miss: Yes. My younger more than my older, I think

Mr.Ree: Ah, that must be nice

Chem Miss: Can I ask why?

Mr.Ree: I was just thinking about my sister. I haven’t really seen her in two years. Haven’t really talked to her in longer.

Chem Miss: Why’s that?

Mr.Ree: I’m not sure. I think I’ve been doing the science thing for so long, the research thing for so long – it’s hard to identify with normal life. With normal things. It’s not that I don’t want to… I just don’t know how, anymore. It’s why your blog post caught my interest

You stare at his words because with each message you get from Mr.Ree, it’s harder and harder not to want to meet him. This guy is witty, funny, smart and by now – you talk almost every day. That’s more than most people you see in real life and tapping your fingers against your keyboard, you lose yourself in a strange train of thought.

“What are you looking at?”

Liz’s question makes you realize both her and Jimin have gone silent. Their conversation is finished, both heads turned in your direction. “Nothing,” you snap, much too quickly.

Liz’s eyes narrow, then widen. “Ah! Is it him - mystery guy?”

Flushing, you slam your laptop shut. “It’s no one.”

Jimin looks at you curiously. “Mystery guy?”

“Yeah,” Liz nods, leaning back in your seat. “Y/N has been talking to this guy and –”

“Liz,” you interrupt, through gritted teeth. You don’t want to tell Jimin about him, don’t want him to know about your internet romance. You don’t want to say that you’re falling for someone you’ve never met. Not with Jimin here, so perfect and wonderful and entirely real.

Perfectly untouchable, but for different reasons.

“Interesting.” Jimin stares for a moment. “If you like him, who cares if you met online? Just tell him you like him and meet him. Well,” he pauses, looking thoughtful. “Under safe conditions.”

Liz grins. “Unless there’s someone in your real life, what’s holding you back?” she asks, somewhat suggestively.

You glare daggers at your best friend. “No.”

Jimin is already pulling on his hat though, adjusting his computer bag across the panes of his chest. “I have to go,” he apologizes, gaze flicking to you. “Good luck, Y/N.”

Then he’s gone, winding his way through tables and striding out library doors.

“Thanks a lot,” you groan, lowering your head to your hands.

Liz exhales, the noise gentle. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry about that – it just kind of… came out.”

You peer at her through your fingers. “Ass.”

Liz cracks a hopeful smile. “You still love me, right?”

Groaning, you slide down further in your chair. “I guess. But you owe me big – Chipotle,” you announce, lowering your hands to the wood. “And guacamole.”

Thanksgiving comes and goes.

It’s startling, the speed with which winter vacation arrives. One moment it’s November and you’re relaxing, thinking you have an entire month before the semester ends. Then you’re back from break and it’s the second of December and somehow there are only two weeks before final exams. You hole up in various study locations – the library, your apartment, the third to last table in the dining hall. Anyplace you can find, for some peace and quiet.

You would be stressed, would be freaking out if it weren’t for your mystery man’s messages at the end of each day.

Mr.Ree: I just want to say – I’m not always serious.

Lips quirking, you set down your pencil in the dining hall.

Chem Miss: Oh? Tell me a joke, then

Mr.Ree: On the spot?

Chem Miss: I’m waiting

Mr.Ree: Okay. Did you hear about the man cooled to absolute zero?

Chem Miss: …

Mr.Ree: He’s 0K now

Chem Miss: dear lord

Mr.Ree: Ahem. Do you know any jokes about sodium?

Chem Miss: Na

Mr.Ree: Okay, you knew that one. But why do chemists like nitrates so much?

Chem Miss: Idk, you’ve got me there

Mr.Ree: because they’re cheaper than day rates!

Chem Miss: hahahah

Chem Miss: okay, fine that was funny

Mr.Ree: see, I told you. I’m hilarious. Tell me how funny I am

Chem Miss: You’re soooo funny. You should have your own show, book, a web series even.

Paused in your typing, you lean away from the screen to rub at your temples and wonder what you’re doing. You don’t know how this happened; it’s hard to concentrate on studying, when you keep glancing at your screen every five minutes. Then you look at your phone, iPad – anywhere for his messages, his words.

You don’t even know him and yet – somehow you do? It’s odd. Odd, falling for someone you’ve never even seen and yet, here you are. Seated on a bench in the dining hall, attention equally divided between an unsubstantiated person online and an unattainable one in real life.

The last class of the semester, it is Jimin who lectures. There is no new material to teach, just a general review and questions but Jimin stands at the podium, fingers tapping the edge of the wood.

“No,” he answers, shaking his head at someone in the back of the classroom. “It is not enough to give a solution on the matter. You must also offer guidance to its execution.”

Your head snaps upwards, recognizing the topic.

The guy who asked the question seems peeved. “But why?” he complains, shifting around in his seat. “The point of this class is innovation, right? Why isn’t it enough to create the solution and allow others to practicalize?”

“Because,” Jimin leans in, eyes narrowing. “What kind of responsibility do you hold for your own research? In the lab, you’ll discover many things – some on purpose, some will not. When you come across something which could change the world – isn’t it your duty to ensure it’s a better one?”

The classroom becomes still, barely anyone moves as Jimin surveys the lot of you. “You must include implementation along with a solution, or your final grade will show it.” Gathering his papers on the podium, Jimin refuses to make eye contact. “Are there any more questions?”

The class is nearly over and when no one raises a hand, Jimin looks up. “Good. Don’t forget to send in professor evaluations before the end of next week. You’ll receive one point of extra credit on the exam for each review.”

Excited murmurs follow this statement as you push to stand. You glance backwards when you leave, but Jimin doesn’t look your way. He’s concentrated on his work, and you eventually you just look ahead.

For a moment, his words almost sounded like yours. It sounded like that post on your blog and for a second, you consider the idea that he may have read it. You brush this thought aside immediately, though. There are so many people in this world, so many people on the internet that logically, statistically – there’s no way Jimin read your blog.

Logically, there is just no way.

The final exam is as difficult as you thought it’d be; two and a half hours full of questions, essays and practical application. You feel slightly dizzy turning in your test at the end of the alloted time, handing Jimin your paper and completely ignoring the smile he gives.

You’re not the last one to finish, meaning Jimin is forced to stay put. He gathers the exams on his desk and stares at the clock. Drumming his fingers against wood and wishing time would move faster. He wishes this semester would be over, because then – he’ll be free.

You and Liz celebrate Friday by getting drunk. A bottle of wine each, dancing in your living room and eventually moving your dancing to the bars. It’s the firsttime you can remembering dancing – actually dancing – for the first time in a while, that carefree, fuck-it-all kind of letting loose you did back in undergrad. Now that your degree is underway, you can finally start doing the research you imagined. You can finally start helping the world and its people in the way you imagined.

When you arrive home, you’re more than a little tipsy; wiping your face free of makeup to collapse on top of your pillows. Yanking out your laptop, you scroll through YouTube, scan through your blog and realize Mr.Ree hasn’t responded. It’s been a couple days since you last heard from him, so you shoot him a message.

Chem Miss: hey?? U okay?

Then you exit, blushing when you see the evidence of your iMessages to Liz.

Liz: But like, I’m so sad the class is over [10:02 PM]

Y/N: what? Why? LOL [10:03 PM]

Liz: I never got to tell Jimin exactly what I wanted to do to that body of his. It’s a shame [10:04 PM]

Y/N: LIZ [10:05 PM]

Liz: PLEASE, LIKE U WOULDN’T HIT THAT. LIKE YOU WOULDN’T GET ON YOUR KNEES [10:06 PM]

Y/N: fuck. No. I mean, maybe. [10:07 PM]

Y/N: I mean, maybe I’d let him spank me and tell me what a good girl I am. [10:07 PM]

Y/N: but that doesn’t mean I like him [10:08 PM]

Liz: LMFAO, oh my god you must be drunk. [10:09 PM]

Liz: ok that’s it, that’s the sign we should head to the bars [10:09 PM]

Your face heats up re-reading it. Thinking about Jimin in that way, his lower lip between his teeth while his hands slide up your body. Before you can stop yourself, you’re closing out of the tab, staring blankly when you see the half-filled performance evaluation before your eyes.

At the top, in bold red letters it reads:

THIS EVALUATION IS ENTIRELY ANONYMOUS.

You glance behind you. The room spins slightly, shifting shift your weight on your bed to move the cursor towards comments. You filled everything else out earlier, this is the only thing left because at the time, you didn’t have the faintest idea what to write.

Slowly, you start typing.

Park Jimin has, without a doubt, the best ass I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing. It’s a truly incredible feat of nature but it’s only my second favorite thing about him. I love the way he talks about science – it’s hot af. There was this one day, when he was discussing the potential for artificial cell membranes in the creation of molecular systems and I swear, there’s never been anything sexier. Every sentence from his lips is poetry – and that’s what science is, isn’t it?  Back to Park Jimin’s lips. I couldn’t see him behind that podium without imagining fucking him on it. Hands sliding up my chest, head between my legs – I guess what I’m trying to say is you need a different TA. One who isn’t as gorgeous, smart and witty as Park Jimin – because I honestly couldn’t concentrate the entire semester.

*I still can’t concentrate.

Pulling back, you stare at your own words on the screen. Blinking, some of your drunken haze clears and you realize there’s no way this can be sent. Absolutely not – when you move to erase, your thumb accidentally brushes enter.

“Oh my god,” you inhale, staring in panic while the cursor turns to a spinning wheel. “No. No. No!”

But then – sent. The completed page blinks back at you, mocking in its simplicity. You stare at this for a long moment before breathing, “Shit.”

The next ten minutes are spent frantically combing through Google, searching for a way to retract the survey, but there’s none. Once the survey is sent – that’s it. Pushing your laptop aside, you lower your face to your pillows and silently scream, resigning yourself to complete and utter embarrassment.

The one comfort you have is the survey is anonymous. There’s no reason for Jimin to think it was you and, slightly cheered by this thought, you manage to asleep.

Hoefully once you wake, things will have magically fixed themselves.

They haven’t.

The next morning you bolt upright, head spinning when you remember what you’ve done. Stumbling from bed, you head into the bathroom and brush your face and teeth, staring into the mirror as you reign in your emotions. The survey is anonymous, Jimin can’t know it was you. Except – you can’t remember all that you said. What if you wrote something which gave yourself away?

You can’t stand it – you need to know. You need to get that survey back.

It takes the rest of the morning to feel well enough to leave the apartment. You exit into your living room, grateful Liz hasn’t ventured outside of her room because the less witnesses to your humiliation – the better.

Pulling on a coat, you exit the building and begin the short walk to Jimin’s apartment. He said it was in Yoongi’s apartment building, so that’s what you’re banking on. You plan on lying, plan on telling him someone submitted a joke review in your name and see if he can throw it out without reading. You just can’t handle Jimin thinking it was you because he’s never once expressed that kind of interest – Jimin would probably be appalled, if he read the submission you sent.

Groaning out loud, you hasten into the cold. The night of Yoongi’s party, Jimin mentioned living in the same building. He also mentioned his apartment number, due to a story about a rather unfortunate mailbox mix-up. This probably wasn’t what he intended you use that information for when he told you but oh, well.

There’s no one present when you enter the lobby. Instead of waiting for the doorman, you head straight towards the elevators and ride to the fifteenth floor only to pause on the landing. You pace back and forth outside Jimin’s apartment before finally gathering the courage to knock.

There’s a long pause. A horrible moment where you wonder if Jimin is even home; maybe he already left for Christmas or – you nearly groan at the thought – maybe he has a girlfriend, or something. You never thought to ask. Maybe Jimin is at her place right now, laughing about some love-obsessed review he got in –

The door swings open. Jimin stands in the entrance, dressed in a navy sweater and jeans. His hair looks tousled, eyes going wide when he recognizes your face. “Y/N?” he asks, looking past you to the hall. “What are you doing here?”

You glance down at the ground, shifting your weight on your heels. “I – uh. Can I come in?”

Jimin raises his eyebrows but nods, opening his door further to allow you entrance. “Sure.”

Stepping inside, you’re not sure what you expected. Jimin’s place is – well, a kind word for it would be messy. Your eyes widen because you thought someone as articulate, as put together as Jimin is, would have his apartment in order as well. Gingerly, you set your purse down on his counter to face him.

Crossing both arms, Jimin leans against his now-closed door. “What’s up?”

It’s hard not to smile, since you’ve never heard Jimin be so informal. “Well,” you stop, shaking your head. “Fuck. This is going to sound stupid.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “From you? I doubt it.”

“No,” you mumble, looking down to where your fingers press anxiously together. “It will.”

A long moment passes, as Jimin steps away from his door. “Would you like some water?” he asks, moving into the kitchen. “It might help with whatever it is you’re trying to say.”

You nod, watching him walk past. Jimin is barefoot, his sweater not tucked into his jeans and he pulls a glass from a cabinet, sticking it under the faucet. “For you,” he offers, handing it over.

“Thanks.”

Unsure what else to do, you sit down on his stool and take a long sip of water to avoid meeting his gaze. It’s the first time you and Jimin have been alone since office hours, the first time he’s really looked at you since the party.

Jimin leans his elbows to the counter. “So. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Your review,” you blurt out, surprising Jimin. “My review was hacked,” you mumble, grip tightening on the glass. “I know they’re anonymous but someone submitted mine and uh, I don’t know all that they wrote but it wasn’t entirely appropriate.”

Jimin’s eyebrows arch higher. “No?” he asks, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was amused. “But,” Jimin postures, blinking innocently. “If you don’t know what they said, how would you know it wasn’t appropriate?”

Your mouth goes suddenly dry. “I – well, they said that it wasn’t.”

“Hm.” The corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts, pulling out his phone. “How nice of them, to prank you and then give a heads-up.”

You shift awkwardly in your seat and while Jimin is searching, you glance down at your phone. Anything – anything to distract you from this moment. There’s blinding silence between you, while he looks for your survey. When you look at your screen, you see an icon blink in the corner – it’s a message from your blog.

Mr.Ree: I’m sorry I was MIA! I’m alright, just busy, it was exam week for the class I assistant professor for. Had a lot of exams to grade.

As you read this, you pulse slows. You stare at the message, unsure if you’re seeing things, staring at the words and trying to comprehend but – there’s no way. It must be a coincidence; has to be, since this can’t be Jimin.

Suddenly unsure though, you type slowly back.

Chem Miss: I like your sweater. The color really brings out your eyes    

You press send.

Almost immediately, Jimin’s phone chimes and he looks down, frowning – before freezing in place. Jimin stares at his phone for a while before slowly, lifting his gaze to yours.

“You,” he breathes, glancing back at the app. “It’s… you?”

Nodding, you’re unable to think of a response; unable to think of anything, really, beyond Jimin. Jimin – Mr.Ree – are the same person. This whole semester, you thought you were falling for two people and really, you were falling for the same.

Slowly, you let your phone fall to the counter. “It’s me,” you whisper, nodding in response. “I’m Chem Miss.”

Jimin looks up, blinking rapidly. “You’re – fuck,” he exhales, dragging both hands through his hair. “I’ve been crushing on you all semester,” Jimin blurts, meeting your gaze. “From the second I walked into class, then at the party – I just barely stopped myself from kissing you. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life but I stopped myself. I took a step back and tried not to know you. I stopped finding excuses to be around you but, oh god,” Jimin groans, head lowering to his hands. “I was so bad at it, so transparent. Could you really not see?” he demands, lowering his hands now to look at you.

Jimin’s expression is pained, out of control. It’s nothing like the calm man you’ve known all semester and mutely, you shake your head.

“I almost told you,” Jimin confesses, voice hoarse. “So many times, but – your education, your class. I couldn’t do that to you, couldn’t tell you I wanted you because I needed to remain impartial.”

“But,” you struggle to understand. “You’re also Mr.Ree? How?”

Jimin shakes his head, dazed. “Coincidence. I know that’s a crappy answer, but it’s the only one I have. I’ve been following your blog for some time and that day, that post – I just had to message you. I,” Jimin sighs, smile breaking out over his face. “I just can’t believe that it’s you.”

His words. His words are everything you feel, crashing over. His words are dragging you under, dashing you against rocks only to pull you back to the surface. Barely aware of what’s happening, you slide down from his stool.

“You,” you pause, struggling to hide your smile. “You should probably know I was the one who submitted that review. I was drunk and it was stupid, but I was the one who submitted it.”

Jimin’s eyes darken, sliding a finger over his lock button. “I know,” he admits, looking back down. “I already read it this morning. Tell me,” Jimin adds, voice dropping a notch. “Did you really mean what you wrote?”

“Which part?” you ask, just as quietly.

Jimin’s fingers search for the part he’s looking for. “Did you really,” he murmurs, suddenly tense. “Think about fucking me on that podium?”

Your throat dries. “I –”

When Jimin looks up, his smile is wicked. “I’m afraid I don’t have a podium in my apartment,”  he responds, taking a step around the counter. Then another, walking until he’s before you. You nod – just once, for his hands to push into your hair, lips dropping to graze the edge of your cheek.

“Jimin,” you exhale, arms finding his neck. You can’t believe it’s him, can’t believe he’s here, finally touching you. Jimin’s teeth lightly skim your jaw, hands tilting your head carefully to the side. “Yes,” you groan, when he presses you to his counter. “Every day I thought about it – fuck.”

Jimin chuckles before pulling away. “I don’t know what to say,” he confesses. “I’ve spent so long falling for you, now that you’re here, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” you murmur, lifting to press your lips to his. The moment is brief, sweet; enough to take your breath away. “Just kiss me.”

Jimin’s mouth opens, lips searing as he pulls you into him. His hands find your hair, pushing this backwards while his teeth catch your bottom lip between his. Jimin’s touch is near-painful before he releases you, hands roaming your backside to cup you rough from behind. His hips press to your pelvis, relishing the sudden noise that you make.

His thighs nudge aside your own, pushing your legs apart while shoving the coat from your shoulders. “No,” Jimin murmurs, brushing a kiss to your collarbone. “This, off.” His hands slide underneath your sweater, pushing it up and overhead. “This, too.”

Jimin stares, hands sliding to your ribcage. He cups your breasts in his palms, teasing until your nipples are hard and erect. “Jimin,” you moan, legs pressed together.

Jimin looks up. “Wet, already?” he murmurs, hand sliding to your legs. You’re still wearing your jeans so Jimin’s fingers slide backwards, tracing circles over your sex before he bends, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His lips are bruising, tongue and teeth sure to mark but you find you don’t mind, moaning at each sensation he brings – it’s already too much, and he’s barely begun. Jimin’s hand finds your jeans, deftly undoing a button, then another before pushing them down your legs.

His sweater is next, but you barely have time to appreciate before he’s bending to grip your thighs. Jimin lifts you quickly, your core sliding over his stomach as he moans, biting down on your ear. “Fuck,” he hisses, walking the two of you backwards. “I can feel how wet you are.”

Your legs hook over the curve of his ass, hands sliding into his hair while you kiss him. “It’s been a very long semester,” you murmur, groaning when Jimin shifts your weight. “I told you that in my review, didn’t I? I’ve been staring at your ass for a while.”

Jimin grins, shoving open the door to his room. “What do you want?” he murmurs, hands gripping your thighs.

Your gaze moves lower, to where his front meets your body. “Sit on the edge of the bed,” you instruct, voice soft.

Jimin obeys, sliding you until you’re standing before him. He turns, gracefully depositing himself on the edge of his mattress. “What now?” he asks, leaning back on his hands.

“Jeans off,” you demands, watching him slide his belt free of the loops. He drops this sideways, pushing his jeans past his hips as you stare, at the sight of Jimin in boxer-briefs and nothing more. He sits spread on his bed, as you walk carefully forward.

Reaching the bed, you kneel first one knee, then the other over his lap. Balancing your hands on Jimin’s shoulders, you slowly sit to grip his arms tight. Shifting your weight, you smile at the intake of breath he makes. Jimin’s hands slide to your waist for balance – and then you move, rolling your hips as the length of his cock gradually harden.

“Ah,” you groan, grinding harder against his thighs. “You’re so hard,” you whisper, brushing your lips to his neck. “Just imagine what you’ll feel like inside me.”

“Imagine?” Jimin bites down on your collarbone, finger sliding between your legs. He pulls aside your underwear, gently stroking over your sex. “Why imagine?”

When his finger enters, you gasp, arching upwards to allow him better access. He pushes up while you ride him, one finger sliding in and out as Jimin’s thumb brushes your clit.

You grind harder, panting slightly when Jimin pulls back and you whimper at the loss, until Jimin flips you onto the bed. “Spread your legs,” he commands.

Obeying, you push your legs to either side for Jimin to kiss the top of your thigh. His fingers slide beneath your panties, dragging down your legs to throw on the ground. Jimin sits back, openly staring at your naked body before him. “You have such a pretty cunt,” Jimin murmurs, lowering himself to his elbows. He pauses. “Do you like dirty talk?”

Nodding, your excitement grows at the thought.

“Good,” Jimin exhales, sliding his lips up your leg. “Because you’re so fucking wet, it’s driving me crazy. Your pussy looks so tight,” he murmurs, two fingers sliding between the folds of your sex. He edges you gently, two fingers teasing just the edge of your clit. It’s enough that you moan, pushing your pelvis up into the palm of his hand.

Jimin takes his time, fingers sliding back down. He dips into your wetness, tracing circles for you to open further beneath him. “Jimin,” you moan, hands fisting in his sheets. “Please.”

“Please?” Jimin smirks. “No. Raise your hands over your head.”

You do as commanded.

“Now arch your back,” Jimin exhales, watching your breasts rise. “Ah, fuck. Good girl,” he smiles, resuming circling your clit. “Do you want my mouth? I can’t wait any longer to taste you.”

When you nod, Jimin’s head disappears between your thighs. His lips close over your sex as he sucks, sliding one finger back while your hips arch up in response. He enters you again, licking a slow circle around your clit. Your entire body tenses, grinding messily upwards as Jimin tugs your clit between his lips. He traces his tongue over you harshly before adding a second finger.

“Fuck,” you moan, as the relentless pleasure continues. “Ji-min,” you gasp out his name.

“I’m not done yet,” he mutters, biting down on his lip. “So fucking sweet, I swear.”

He resumes his motion, paying attention to your clit; treating it delicately, and then not at all. He spreads you, licks in slow circles before flattening his tongue and dragging upwards. The entire time he fucks you with his fingers, curling them up and in with each tease.

Your chest rises, arching while Jimin pulls back to look at you. His hands slide up your body, unhooking your bra to toss this aside. Jimin moves until his lips find your nipple, flicking lightly while his hand reaching between your thighs and spreads your legs. Somewhat breathless, you yank his face upwards, kissing him eagerly while your hands wander his body. As you push his shorts past his ass, Jimin moans in approval.

He shoves them the rest of the way off, dropping between your legs as his hair falls into his eyes. Reaching down for his cock, you find him hard and erect against your stomach. You tease your thumb over the tip, gathering precum before sliding this back down his shaft. Jimin’s eyelids flutter at the motion, lips parting in response.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, voice taut. “Your hands are so perfect, fuck. Touch yourself,” he breathes, opening his eyes to watch your hand slip between your legs.

“Like this?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yes, Y/N,” Jimin nods, catching your lower lip with his own. He pushes his cock into you, hitting your stomach. “Please, let me fuck you. I want to be inside you so badly.”

Nodding eagerly, you pull back long enough for Jimin to grab a condom. He rolls this onto himself, keeping his gaze on you while you look at his hands, stroking over his cock. It’s hard to stop the noise you make and Jimin slides his hands from your ankles to thighs, finding your center and aligning his member. He pulls your hips forward, barely pausing a moment before sinking inside.

Inch by inch, your legs widen as Jimin enters. His cock is hard, thick in a way which fills every need that you have. Jimin gathers you to him, burying himself further and when he finally stops, it’s hard to gather a response. He fits so perfectly inside, his hips aligned to your own.

“Oh,” Jimin moans, lips tracing your jaw to your neck. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. So wet. Ah, I’ve never had a cunt as good as yours, Y/N.”

You exhale needily. “Fuck, Jimin,” you groan, as he slowly withdraws, “You’ll make me come, if you keep talking like that.”

He smirks, sliding back in, rolling his hips to hit a new spot. Then another and, hearing the noise that you make – Jimin keeps going. He buries himself in you again and again, thrusting until you’re biting his shoulder to keep from screaming.

“Please, Jimin,” you moan, snapping your hips upwards. “Faster.”

Jimin withdraws, slamming in and making you grunt. His speed becomes a punishing, relentless thing while he lifts your legs to drape over his shoulders. Jimin moves even faster, gaze darkening when he sees himself disappearing inside you. He enters you over and over, reaching down to lazily stroke a finger against your sex.

“Come for me, baby,” Jimin murmurs, fucking you harder; deeper, as his fingers circle your clit. “I want to see your face when you come, god – I’ve thought about that for so long.”

You arch upwards, as his fingertips slide against you.  You’re so wet, tight and when he bends to take a nipple in his mouth, everything tightens around him. “Jimin,” you gasp, pulling him closer, “Fuck – Jimin.”

The force of your orgasm makes you see stars, darkness dancing on the edge of your vision while you surrender to him. Jimin continues thrusting, hard and fast until he comes as well. Body collapsing on the sheets, his chest curves over yours until you both catch your breath.

Gently, Jimin pulls himself from your body; removing the condom, to drop this into the can. “Come here,” he murmurs, falling beside you. Jimin’s hair is messy, chest entirely bare and you curl yourself eagerly into him. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing lips to your forehead in response.

After a moment, you look up. “You’re not wearing your glasses.”

“Ah, no,” Jimin mumbles, rolling over to grab them from his bedside. He pulls back triumphantly, sliding them onto his nose. “On the weekends, sometimes I don’t wear them at all.” Jimin smiles at you, pulling you close. “There.”

His leg slips between yours, sheets cool while your breathing slows to match his. “You really liked me this whole time?” you ask him, fingers intertwining.

Jimin nods. “For so long,” he whispers, lips pressing to yours. “And now that you’re here, you’re not leaving.”

You giggle in response, kissing his nose. “What about food, and stuff?” Jimin growls in response and though you laugh, your smile quickly fades. “But what about the course, Jimin? What about my grades?”

Jimin’s shrugs, thumb sliding over your side. “The course is now over,” he informs. “I handed in my grading to Dr. Stephens yesterday. You’re not under my tutelage anymore.”

“Ah,” you smile, pressing closer. “Then there’s nothing stopping me from staying here, is there?”

“Nothing,” Jimin murmurs, nuzzling his face to your neck. “So, will you?” he asks, body tensing. “Will you stay with me?”

You’ve never been more certain of an answer before. “Yes.”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2017. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[keywestlou]

THE INCREASED COST OF FOOD NOT WHAT YOU THINK

Most people think the incense in eh cost of food is because the supermarkets are ripping off the public. To a degree, yes. Not that much however in comparison to some other businesses/reasons..

Some find a way to benefit from a crisis such as the pandemic.

In this instance, food producers. Those who manufacture the canned goods, meats, and anything else sold in a supermarket.

Notice how certain food stuffs are absent for weeks on the shelves. The items always return. However at an increased price.

The producers have learned to play the gouging game.  They intentionally hold on to goods they produce so as to manipulate prices. The game again is to keep a product off the shelve for several weeks and then have it return at a higher price.

Then there is the cost of shipping/delivery of goods.

Shipping prices have gone out of sight! Which of course increases the final cost to the consumer.

Tucking rates have soared despite a demand below prior years.

Diesel #2 prices are up. Twenty percent from November 2020 through February 15, 2021. A big jump in a short period of time.

Crude oil is up 64 percent during the same time period. Wild!

Shippers, such as retailers and manufacturers shipping goods to the customer, have experienced a 20 percent hike from January 2020 through January 2021. The steepest increase since 2011!

Only a few examples contributing to increased transportation costs have been provided. The statistics/data involving the increases in various types of shipping were too much for me to understand. Wow! The only thing clear was that there is an increase in every area. Reasons generally different. My opinion is do not blame everything on the supermarket. They are responsible to some degree. The examples set forth herein are responsible to an even greater degree.

Texas. A disaster!

Hopefully Texas has learned a lesson. The lesson also is a warning to other states not to go the “independent” way Texas did.

There are two national grids. The East and the West. Then there is Texas standing alone. Texas knew how to provide power more efficiently and cheaper.

They bull shitted themselves.

If you are going to run your own business, it must be run properly to avoid something as has occurred in Texas.

Once set up, Texas failed to do the necessary to keep structures up to date and failed to pay attention to anticipated wild weather developments.

“Once in a hundred years” has become common in everything involving weather.

However, if you have a neoliberal austerity State which has spent 40 years deregulating and privatizing public infrastructures, and downsizing public service into incapability, you end up with a gigantic bad situation. A problem where people cannot depend on the State for water, food, and power during emergencies.

There are adverse weather events to prepare for. Texas did not prepare.

Set aside State damages for which Texas is responsible, most of which probably are not insured. Another way to save a buck.

Home owners and businesses normally are insure. I m confident many Texans are insured for the damages wrought by the snow and ice. Note however that insurance companies are a business. They claim they are available to protect their insureds. No! Most are corporations and worried more about their bottom lines.

So insurance policies are written with various exceptions. Happenings where coverage is excluded. Take for example water driven by wind. The insurance companies will play with that one big time. How about an act of God? Can one argue the cause of snow and ice other than an act of God. Insurance companies try and do.

There are numerous other examples. The poor homeowner and businessman is going to have a hard time getting paid actual damages incurred or getting paid at all.

And what of the time factor involved between the time the claim is made and the insurance company pays. Could be a year or two or more.

Billions of dollars are involved.

The news keeps saying Biden definitely is not in favor of an increase in the minimum wage to $15 in this stimulus package. I sense it is something he will consider at another time. Biden cannot be expected to do everything at one time.

Biden is in favor of a $15 minimum wage for federal employees. Evidence he is aware of the problem and is working on it.

Joseph Anthony Pizzo died recently. He was 88.

I first met Joe when I came to Key West some 30 years ago. He and his wife Beth wee already here. We became friends.

Joe was a happy person. Always a big smile when he saw you. Beth likewise very personable.

Joe was into things that grew from the ground. A botanist/horticulturalist.  He taught life science classes for 30 years at Chicago City College. In addition, he and Beth opened Floral Consultants, a business they were able to expand to multiple Chicago locations.

Rest in peace, Joe!

Key West has had many citizen who have been responsible for what Key West has become. Good, bad, or indifferent, Key West would not be what it is today without their genius and hard work.

One of those persons is David Wolkowsky. David died a few years ago.

On this day in 1967, David began construction of the Pier House Motel. On that Motel site, today’s Pier House sits. Developer over the years by David.

David was my friend. I unfortunately met him in his later years. I enjoyed his company. He was respectful to all. Everyone loved him.

Enjoy your day!

—

DAY 26…..Greece the First Time

Posted on June 22, 2012 by Key West Lou

Not easy to communicate via internet from the middle of the Aegean Sea. Equipment here all old. Connections not dependable. Things keep getting lost. I spend more time looking for lost material than writing.

None of the above is intended as a complaint. I expect no more nor no less from an island so remote as the one I am presently on. Amorgos. It is almost nowhere. Access is by boat only. The boat comes and goes. The boat arrives two times a week.

I share the preceding with you for a particular reason.

Recent blogs have contained many errors. Paragraphs repeated, misspelled words, capitalizations missing, etc. I cannot help it. I reach a point where I have spent 4 hours doing the blog, 2.5 of which were spent finding the blog when it has disappeared.

I reach a point where I say I must publish before I lose the blog in its entirety for good. So I publish. I must admit when I am at that point, I am also very tired and say screw it.

Forgive me. The substance is good, even though the form may be lacking on occasion.

Which brings me to my present abode. A small white cottage with blue trim. Trim includes windows, shutters and doors. Sitting about 12 feet from the ocean. Yesterday I described the area between me and the water as a road. I was mistaken. It is a stone foot path.

Amorgos is one of the far out of the Greek islands. Off the beaten path. Few visitors. Not on the tourist routes. No big fancy hotels. Nothing but you, a couple of neighbors, and God.

If 2,000 people live on this island, I would be shocked.

My little house sits at the end of the path previously described. After that, nothing but water.

Sunsets terrific. Like Key West. Across the water from me. Over the peak of a mountain. Glorious!

I bought a bottle of Beefeaters yesterday. Enjoyed a couple of drinks from my terrace watching the sunset.

I was shocked I could buy Beefeaters. It has been almost non existent at my previous stops. Not only was it available on Amorgos, it was also cheap. About half the cost compared to the U.S. I suspect it is the taxes. If the Greeks taxed alcohol as much as it is in the U.S., it would dramatically help their financial condition.

Cigarettes. I took 4 packs with me. I have been gone 2 days shy of four weeks. Just finished the fourth pack yesterday. I am not doing bad in smoking little. I know. I should not be at all.

I bought a pack yesterday. $4.10! No way in the U.S.A. Another example of where Greece might help alleviate its financial problem. Increase substantially the cigarette tax.

There is a Chora on Amorgos. You will recall there was one in Mykonos. Chora is also referred to as Hora. It means old place. The old places on most islands are federally protected in Greece. Much like our historical buildings.

The Chora here is a large number of buildings constructed during the middle ages. Most at least 1,000 years old. Typically Grecian. One to 3 stories. Small terraces. White. Blue trimming. Narrow walkway, 3-4 feet wide.

Whereas Mykonos’ Chora was full of people, stores, bars and restaurants, the one on Amorgos appeared deserted. I saw no more than a dozen visitors.

Every 200-300 feet there is a restaurant or coffee house. Few or no customers.

Stairs. To the sky! Just what I love! Steps everywhere. Up, up and more up! Each one a stress test for me.

Chora was six miles away. On the top of a hill. The cab ride was straight up. The return trip straight down. How these cars do it, I will never understand. I consider it physically impossible for a car to keep its wheels on the road under such conditions.

Somewhere along the way yesterday, I found out what the windmills were for. There are many here as on Mykonos.

Olives were and still are big. The windmills were used to crush the olives. Where there were vine yards, the grapes were likewise crushed by the windmills.

Last night the wind returned. Cold. Very cold. I had to wear a sweat shirt.

I had a late dinner. At Demetrius’. After dinner there the night before, I could eat nowhere else. I was not disappointed.

Eggplant is big here. I had a warm appetizer of eggplant, tomatoes and onions. All cut up and cooked together. To die for!

My entre surpassed everything! My friends in Utica will especially enjoy that which I am about to share. I had lamb chops. Thin. The bone intact, not cut from the chop’s body. Fatty and juicy.

Just like Pelletieri Joe’s.

I got up with the sun this morning. Walked down the road a bit to buy coffee, a loaf of hot bread and butter. Then back to the cottage and my terrace. I watched the sun and water move a bit. Nothing else.

A bit later I was playing around with my tablet. A very lovely young lady walked by. Ann. Swiss. 18. Blond hair. Trim body. White blouse. Short jeans.

We talked. She was back packing it. Was looking for a cheap place to stay. Elini’s was too expensive for her. She moved on to continue her quest.

By the way, I think Elini’s is dirt cheap. Everything on this island costs next to nothing. For example, my dinner last night cost 11 euros. About $14 American money. Tip built in. Tip is 16 per cent of a bill.

I had another visitor while sitting outside.

I heard clinging bells. Saw nothing. Got up and looked over the terrace wall. There were three ducks walking along. Each had a bell around its neck. Looked like a family. Two big ones, one little one. Obviously house pets out for a stroll.

I have no idea at this point what today will bring. Maybe a trip to the monastery. Maybe nothing.

Enjoy your day!

  THE INCREASED COST OF FOOD NOT WHAT YOU THINK was originally published on Key West Lou

[instrawberrymoonlight]

There’s been a few things on my mind lately that I just wanted to talk about, or more so just give my thoughts on. 

First I want to tell you how proud I am of you for getting through the past few months. I know that things have been incredibly painful and hard for you, perhaps one of the hardest times you've had to go through since dealing and coming to terms with your mum. It has also been a challenging year for the world overall, I’d even go as far to say that we’ve endured a global, universal trauma which is as scary as it sounds; upon all this, you haven’t been able to get the proper support you need therapy-wise because of monetary restrictions. I know from the times you reached your lowest, you felt isolated and detached from your friends whom you hadn’t spoken to in months. You were also afraid of reconstructing the bridge you had originally perceived you’d burnt (although I’d say the fear was an illusion – all smoke and no fire) because of rejection and anger. I believe you once said this particular spiral has lasted for months, which isn't typically the case with all your others (correct me if I'm wrong, though) which was especially troubling for you. Although it took time and a lot of pushing against the bad thoughts that seemed to be a constant entity, you got there! 

Things take time. 

Growing takes time. 

And, I can swear by every fibre of my being that you’ve grown. Immensely. The person who I met just over a year ago has learned and progressed so much in such a short time-frame, even if you can’t see it. For example, while I know you knew the relationship you had with your mum was beyond toxic, there was still a part of you that was held back in some respect with processing how bad it was. Lately you’re coming to terms with it, really understanding how sadistic her methods were and how she was overjoyed by the sight of other people in misery. Her need to control, dominate and her narcissistic proclivities overruled the primary role of a parent and that’s nothing ever ever ever a child should go through – let alone anyone. You’re a survivor Kalishiva, and I’m so glad that you’re able to fight the thoughts that are tainted with her voice because more than anything, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to experience the life you want to live and for the love of everything right and just you deserve to be fucking free of her god awful shackles. 

I also want you to know that this struggle you go through to perform tasks and motivate yourself isn't because you're bad or hopeless. Neurotypicals don't have to go through the incredibly exhausting process you have to go through daily because their executive functioning isn't impaired. Thus, they can will themselves (and I read somewhere that they can apparently toggle motivation WHICH IS INSANE TO ME BUT ANYWAY) without the mental anguish you go through. And while it's hard to conceptualise, and even further, accept as fair because you didn't exactly ask for a disorder, it does mean that you hold an incredible strength to go through the things you do daily. You're a warrior to get out of bed, you're a warrior for cleaning the bathroom, for cleaning the tub, for picking up that piece of clothing that you literally had to trick yourself into picking up. You’re fighting against something that’s stopping you everyday. Every single day. That takes the highest form of courage one could muster, especially when most don't go through that. I don't think you understand how incredible that is; that’s your own war. 

Further, even on days when you're not so great and you can't bring yourself to get out of bed, you're still my warrior. My knight. This too, takes strength – to know when you must recuperate. Many have yet to master this and due to a lot of social conditioning pushing the idea of productivity (productivity serves capitalism) some might never learn to master it. While I don’t claim you have, I want to emphasise the importance of taking that time for yourself and self-care. Be gentle. Don’t beat yourself up or berate yourself just because you’re less capable of pulling yourself out of bed that day. We all have off days – sometimes multiple. It doesn't mean you've lost the battle, or that you’ve lost the war. Sometimes we may lose sight of what exactly we're fighting for, or the purpose, but it's not a permanent feeling. Nor is it a fact. Things are transient and they will get better, they will change with time. 

My lioness, there's a fierceness that burns in your heart and I see it clearly. I only hope you can one day see it, too. You harbour so much passion and love in there that it’s truly a sight to behold and it especially shines when you show compassion to the ones you love, or when you're talking about something you hold dear. I can only imagine the way your eyes light up and the way you smile sweetly when you're fixating on these things and detailing them in ways I feel as though you've previously been shamed for. Personally, I think it's one of the many endearing things about you, there's something distinctly wholesome about watching or listening to people talk about the things they love but when it comes to you, things are amped up to 1000. Your voice is a melody I'll never get out of my head – one I’d never want to – and to hear it describe and synthesise your opinions in such an eloquent way always stuns me. You wow me daily Kali. I know you're going to achieve the things you want to achieve and I know you're going to get to do the things you want to do. Things may take time, and things don't happen over night. I know it's cliche to say but Rome wasn't built in a day. You'll get there, just hang tight and be patient with yourself. You're not alone and everyone you love has got your back – because we love you just as much. We’re going to be here every step of the way. You're a star my love, and you're going to get the love you deserve. You’re going to twinkle. 

I mentioned this a few days ago but you truly did save me, I meant it. I hope none of this comes across as unhealthy, I feel like there could be some unhealthy elements here but I want to illustrate just how much you mean to me and just how much you pulled me out of my self-destructive tendencies. I can never thank you enough for it, and I don’t think I could ever convey, like I said to Alex and like I will say to Arthur, how much I love you. 

I’ve never said this back because I always thought that replying in kind to the compliment you gave me would be some sort of cheap, superficial rally to butter someone up or to make them feel better about themselves. Like. I’m terrified of that happening because my feelings for you are genuine but when you said I was the prettiest girl you’ve laid eyes on I thought the same about you. Everything about you is literally breathtaking and it breaks my heart to see you don’t see it. You’re this perfect blend of gorgeous and cute – there are parts of your features that are soft like your cheeks and your nose and your lips but then you have really striking features like your eyes, your bone structure and your eyebrows like. Fuck I never know how to describe how beautiful you are to me. I know this is a sensitive topic and I know you’re really insecure about your body. I really love it though and I wish you would show it more. That’s not to say you have to or that I’m pressuring you to, please please please only do what you’re comfortable with and always tell me if you’re not, but I just want you to know that I love every single part of you. You have nothing to be ashamed of and if you were willing and comfortable I would spend as long as it takes to kiss you everywhere. You only need to be treated gently, nothing less. I spend so long looking at photos of you and staring in awe at how you’re mine and how we’re together. I’m just so so happy. You make me so incredibly happy. 

Sorry, this post is all over the place. THERE IS NO ORDER ANYMORE ONLY C H A O S HFSDUIFHIUSDF. 

Ultimately my love for you runs deep and flows through my veins. Like the scent of flowers in spring, you bring comfort beyond words. I feel on top of the world with you, the way I feel wispy and free like blades of grass make me believe I can conquer anything. Be anything. Your spirit is gorgeous Kali, never stop being yourself because you’re more than you think. You’re more precious than you could ever know, and the world would be a dull, dark place without your glittering presence. 

My firefly, 

I love you sincerely with every part of me. I was always meant to, and I always will. Your entire existence brings me a joy impossible to translate into tongue. 

— Yours forever, Katarina.

[solartranslations]

Jolly 5/4: Alchemist

Jolly hasn’t come for food at all today. She goes to bring him his meal…

(Note: This event occurs automatically without having to choose it on the map.)

~*Scene: Dining Room*~

Luca: Yes, in the end, Jolly didn’t come to eat

❤≪Luca≫ Seems as usual

Pain: I won’t say it’s okay for him not to come…

Person: He even made Ojou-sama wait

Daily: Seriously…

Debito: If he doesn’t want to eat, just leave him be. He can just starve

❤≪Debito≫ Seems as usual

Daily: Ugh…

Person: Don’t come

Pain: Bambina needs to learn how to judge people

???: I can’t see very well here

(*full…) Pace: I don’t get it. It’s so delicious, I like whatever there is

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Food: The lasagna is delicious

Food: It’s wrong!

Pace: Ah…I guess I can’t have anymore…

Debito: !? You’ve eaten enough!!

Nova: What a monstrous appetite…

❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned

Pain: That defies the structure of the human body

Person: But, can he not replenish his energy without eating this much?

Liberta: Uh. I feel like I might be sick…

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems shocked

Daily: It is delicious, but

Food: I want to eat dolce

Dante: He really does have a bottomless stomach

❤≪Dante≫ Seems as usual

Daily: Amazing

Food: I need a drink…

Luca: …It seems like he’s been shut in his lab all day

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Daily: We should leave him alone

Person: He even made Ojou-sama wait

Debito: Huh? You’re talking about Jolly again?

❤≪Debito≫ Doesn’t seem interested

Daily: Don’t bring him up again

Person: Ugh

Pace: It’s not just today, he’s always been stuck in his lab lately

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Person: I'm a little worried?

Daily: But it is normal

Food: I want to eat a little more

Debito: Then he can stay shut in his lab forever. Sounds great! Don't come out for your whole life

Luca: Debito, you're always saying awful things. ...Hm...that's right

Luca: Well, this happens a lot with Jolly, but it's concerning if he doesn't eat any meals

Pace: You’re right…

Nova: Maybe his research is going well and he just doesn’t have time to lose focus?

❤≪Nova≫ Doesn’t seem interested

Person: He should be able to manage his advisor position at least

Daily: Just worrying is a waste of time

Food: Maybe I should eat a little more…

Dante: It’s probably something like that

❤≪Dante≫ Seems concerned

Daily: We can just leave him alone

Food: I want to drink a little more…

Dante: Oh…I’ve been here a little too long

Dante: I’ll excuse myself now. I have some work left

Debito: So busy…

Debito: Well, the old man might be busy, but so am I

❤≪Debito≫ Wants a drink

Daily; I've got work too

Pain: I'm tired of this

???: I can’t see very well here

Luca: Are you going out now?

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Person: Ojou-sama…

Daily: Seriously…

Debito: I guess. Even if there were more of me, there wouldn’t be enough

Pace: Hmm…that’s probably about a woman

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Daily: Let’s leave it at that

Food: I could eat more

Luca: Really? I wonder

Nova: I hope it doesn’t interfere with his work tomorrow…he’s never serious

❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned

Person: Everyone’s like this…

Daily: Just worrying is a waste of time

Food: Maybe I should eat a little more…

Liberta: Aren’t you just too serious, shrimp?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems to be mocking

Daily: I guess a Regalo man is like that

Food: It was delicious!

Nova: …*sigh*…

Liberta: You wanna go? It’ll be some after meal exercise

Nova: …Every single time. I don’t have time to play along with this stupidity

Pace: Wow. Why can’t you two get along?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems as usual ❤≪Liberta≫ Seems as usual

Daily: Don’t do that!

Daily: Ugh!

Pace: We all ate something so delicious together

Pace: Right, Ojou

Felicita: *sigh*

Luca: Ojou-sama? What’s wrong?

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Person: Is she worrying…

Food: It couldn’t have been because of the meal, right?

Liberta: Does your stomach hurt? Ojou, did you eat too much?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Person: Is she okay?

Luca: Ojou-sama isn’t that much of a glutton! She’s not Pace

Pace: Huh!? Why would you say that about me?

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Person: Um~…

Luca: If you don’t feel well…

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Person: Ojou-sama…?

Luca: Huh? Jolly’s probably going hungry, you say?

Luca: Well, I guess so. I don’t think he’s eaten anything

Felicita: !

Liberta: Ojou, you’re going to eat more? So you’re actually hungry?

Pace: No, she’s talking about Jolly’s share, Ojou’s so nice

Pace: Then, about my share…

Luca: Ojou-sama! You don’t need to take it to him

Luca: If you leave Jolly alone, he’ll eat when he needs to…

Pace: It’s fine, isn’t it? Just let Ojou do what she wants

Pace: I’m sure Jolly will be happy. Ojou’s the one bringing it to him

Pace: I’d definitely be happy!!

Liberta: But, I’m kind of worried…when Jolly’s in a bad mood, he’s pretty scary

Liberta: …Is it really okay?

Pace: Yeah. Even if his face is normal, he’s actually pretty irritated on the inside

Pace: …Ojou! Maybe you really shouldn’t today…

Felicita: No

Liberta: Oh, she went…

(*knock knock)

(*knock knock)

~*Scene: Alchemy Room*~

Jolly: So it’s you, Ojou-sama

❤≪Jolly≫ Doesn’t seem interested

Pain: How is it wrong…

Person: Ojou-sama…?

Arcana: ???

Jolly: So you went out of the way to visit my lab…how strange

Jolly: To bring me food…?

❤≪Jolly≫ Doesn’t seem interested

Pain: There’s no problem if it’s sugary

Person: ….Oh right. I haven’t eaten

Arcana: ???

Jolly: …I’m fine. If I need to I’ll go take some myself

>You shouldn’t skip meals

(+20 Amore)

>I thought you’d be hungry…

(+10 Amore)

>Isn’t it easier if it’s brought to you?

(No Amore)

Jolly: Are you really that worried about me, Ojou-sama?

Jolly: Hmph…no, it couldn’t be

Jolly: It’s not that I’m not hungry…but I don’t need your consideration

Jolly: Are you really that concerned about me?

Jolly: A needless concern

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Jolly≫ Seems as usual ❤≪Jolly≫ Doesn’t seem interested

Arcana: ???

Person: If she says yes, I’ll tell her off

Pain: …She’s a nuisance

Food: I forgot to eat

Pain: She should prioritize…

Arcana: ???

Arcana: ???

Food: But I don’t need any now

Pain: She has a point

Jolly: Or, are you using this as an excuse to come check on me?

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems irritated

Person: ???

Pain: A waste of time

Arcana: Were the materials impure?

Jolly: You’re so curious

Jolly: If you have time to worry about others…

Jolly: Then wouldn’t it be wise to use your time to strengthen your powers? Am I wrong, Ojou-sama?

Jolly: You should return to your room

❤≪Jolly≫ Experiment…

Person: ???

Pain: Don’t get in my way. Curious girl

Arcana: Should I try a substitute material

Felicita: No

Jolly: *sigh*…, did you not hear me?

Jolly: I said I didn’t need any, you’re so self-centered, Ojou-sama

Felicita: !

Jolly: Yes, that’s right. Those three are homunculus

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems irritated

Person: ???

Pain: So annoying…

Arcana: ……

Felicita: Yeah

Jolly: …So they look favorable in your eyes, Ojou-sama…

Jolly: ……

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems irritated

Link: An unfinished product won’t be of any help

Jolly: They’re failures…this…is just garbage…

Jolly: …What?

Jolly: I made them. So there shouldn’t be anything strange about me destroying them

(*glare) Felicita: Okay

❤≪Jolly≫ Regalo

Arcana: We can’t lose…

Pain: At least my research…

Link: Time…there’s not enough

Felicita: !?

>…Why are you so…

>Papa…?

Jolly: What’s wrong? You’re making a strange face…

Jolly: What? Did you say something?

❤≪Jolly≫ Regalo ❤≪Jolly≫ Seems concerned

Person: She couldn’t have…

Link: I’ll find a way to compensate…

Pain: Pity?

Person: Her powers have gotten stronger

Pain: Did I leave a gap?

Link: It’s not enough…

Jolly: Somehow…it seems like you’ve succeeded in reading my heart

❤≪Jolly≫ Ojou-sama

Link: I’ve done everything I can

Person: I intended not to let her read it but…

Pain: Then I have a plan

(*smirk) Jolly: Hmph…for me of all people…to have my heart read by you, Ojou-sama

Jolly: Apparently there was a gap in my heart…was it because my experiment failed?

Jolly: Then? What did you see about me, Ojou-sama?

Felicita: !

Jolly: Mondo…I see, so you saw something about Mondo…

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems concerned

Pain: The one with a high probability of success is…

Person: How much did she read…?

Link: I’ve done everything…

Jolly: Your powers have certainly strengthened, Ojou-sama

Jolly: Does that mean I underestimated your powers?

Jolly: I must expect greater results than this from my homunculus research in a short amount of time

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems to be plotting

Person: …A new trial

Pain: Not bad

Link: I won’t give up…

Jolly: So you must be the trump card after all, Ojou-sama

Jolly: Alright…listen closely to what I’m about to say

❤≪Jolly≫ Tarocco

Person: Whether she understands is another story…

Link: It’s worth betting on

Jolly: …Mondo life, won’t last much longer

(*thump) Felicita: *gasp*

Jolly: It’s because of the Tarocco

Jolly: I continue my research in order to lengthen Mondo’s life

❤≪Jolly≫ Tarocco

Arcana: The price of the World Tarocco is too great

Person: The unknown Wheel of Fortune…

Link: I need something to take on the price…

Jolly: The most promising results were from my homunculus research

Jolly: I thought that the homunculus could reduce Mondo’s burden

Jolly: I believed that only if I could create more completed ones, I could save Mondo faster

Jolly: But, the end of Mondo’s life is drawing near

❤≪Jolly≫ Experiment…

Arcana: If his burden is reduced, she should be able to keep living

Link: We can’t lose him

Person: The unknown Wheel of Fortune…

Jolly: Right now I’m at a complete stalemate

Jolly: I could have saved Mondo soon…but this is the result

Jolly: You want to help me too? Even though you can’t even look after yourself, Ojou-sama?

❤≪Jolly≫ Ojou-sama

Person: For that purpose, you need to master the Tarocco, Ojou-sama

Arcana: Does it look like I have room for error…

Link: She wants to save him, huh

Felicita: !

Jolly: …Of course, as his daughter, that feeling must be natural to you

Jolly: So you’ll help me and Mondo…huh. You’re greedy, Ojou-sama

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems concerned

Arcana: I’ll put saving her father first

Link: Let me make use of that feeling

Person: Is it charity that she wants to help me too?

Jolly: That won’t happen unless you can become stronger

Jolly: I’d like you to think carefully about that

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems concerned

Link: An efficient way to strengthen Ojou-sama’s Tarocco

Arcana: Is there any information that I don’t know…

Person: There’s value in developing the powers of both the Wheel of Fortune and the Lovers

Jolly: What do we need to develop your powers…

Sumire: That’s why I decided that I would find my own way as well

Sumire: I realized that it was important not to keep living alone

Sumire: Even if you say it in words, there’s no meaning if you can’t understand with your heart

Sumire: Your Tarocco desires that more than anything

>My Tarocco wants to understand the heart

(+20 Amore)

>I want to know more about you, Jolly

(+10 Amore)

>Can we spend as much free time together as possible?

(No Amore)

Jolly: Understanding the heart, huh…what does that mean?

Jolly: …In other words, you want to spend as much free time together as possible, correct?

Jolly: Is knowing more about me connected to developing your powers?

Jolly: With me?

Jolly: You think that’s necessary to develop your powers?

❤≪Jolly≫ Doesn’t seem interested ❤≪Jolly≫ Seems to be mocking ❤≪Jolly≫ Seems confused

Arcana: Understanding the heart…

Arcana: The Tarocco seeks…

Arcana: Based on what…

Link: To broaden her field of knowledge?

Person: I’ll recognize that she has a unique way of thinking but…that probably won’t be useful

Person: Since we’re stuck now, it might be worth trying

Arcana: To develop her powers?

Link: Connections with people, huh

Jolly: ……

Jolly: *chuckling*…so that’s the answer you’ve come to

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems concerned

Arcana: Should we wait and see

Link: But, it’s worth testing out what Ojou-sama says

Person: It transcends my understanding

Jolly: Your way of thinking is impossible for me to understand

Jolly: But, if that gets results, then everything will work out

Jolly: We can try it

Jolly: I’ll make sure to watch your growth closely

~*End of Scene*~

(Continue to Jolly May 5)

(Back to Directory)

[nullset2]

Modern Japanese Action Game Design

I'm currently playing through Platinum Games's Nier:Automata (which, by the way, it's a fucking masterpiece holy shit I love you Yoko Taro) and I can't avoid but notice a trend in the Gaming industry and the AA/AAA games it's produced as of late and I wanted to talk about them here.

First, I reiterate, I'm in love with that game. It has layers upon layers upon layers of depth. Of meaning. Its characters, its gameplay design, the lore, the world, the numbers, Mason! What do they mean!?!?!?, HOT DAMN! I love it... it may actually be a better Death Stranding than Death Stranding ever was (by the way, Kojima, you cheeky dude! I can see that you played Nier Automata and you got inspired by it ;)!) --AND it has a cute robot babe!.

(Say it with me: CUTE! ROBOT! BABE!)

Not to say that this is something inherently bad by all; you know what Ebert said, on the subject of everything being a repetition of something else: it's not about the "what", it's about the how, in storytelling.

How many stories in total does humanity have in its aquis? Like, for real, when you actually boil them down to the archetypes? You got the hero's journey, rags to riches, comedies, tragedies... all other stories are just permutations of these, aren't they? What matters is the values with which each of them are presented to you --I can watch Snow White 10,000 times, if there's a new, cool directoy behind it every time, right?

But anyway.

Since FROM SOFTWARE's Demon's Souls (yes, with an apostrophe) came out and souls-likes became popular, I think it set a trend and we've entered a new era for the Japanese action game and I wanted to discuss their aspects in this article, briefly. Cue the game journo saying it's the Dark Souls of...!. Yadda Yadda, right?

Japanese action games since Demon's Souls have the following elements, in my opinion:

Strong emphasis in Single Player design

This, I actually really like! Because, as much as multiplayer-only games are great, sometimes you need a fucking break. I want to be immersed in a Creator's vision of the World. I want to be told a great story. I want games that will still be amazing to play --not to mention, actually playable-- 20 years from now. I want to see speedrun communities form around new games.

The Single Player game must not die!

An element of pseudo-"permadeath".

Modern games use "permadeath" with small benefits, borrowing from rouguelikes, to engross the player. There's more at stake if losing to an enemy means that you lose all of your progress (even if this is superficial, like in Nier, where losing means that you have to collect your previous items and Experienve Points from your old body). It is usually rather easy to restore your previous condition, so the game implements this as a "minor penalty" to the player for not understanding its mechanics instead of a full blown game over.

Focus on hard, unforgiving enemies

Which leads me to the next point. It is very common that Japanese games have several different OHKOs, or enemies that can spawn on you unpredictably and without warning, which can work as a very ~bullshit~ succint way of setting up player expectation and direction/conveyance for the game. Don't go that way if there's a horde of skeletons waiting to fuck you up in one hit, until you're stong enough to bear it, capice?

Uncancellable animations that leave you open for long periods of time and for which you have to plan ahead

Which means that the player has to not be a superman who can take tons of bullets on a whim. Movement has to be slow and demand attention from the player. Triggering the right or wrong movement can make or break the current run. You have to be mindful of your stamina/estus flask/Mana at all times and plan ahead. The game demands dedication from its players and asks them upfront to learn its mechanics and play by its rules.

Hybrid, Internet-powered "multiplayer" features

Let's not forget that people do want Online games, but maybe... let's not do what everyone else is doing! Dark Souls' Signs and invasions, Death Stranding's Structures, Signs and Likes. You can drop a poem when you die in Nier, for the enjoyment of everyone! Wow! Emergent play is the name of the game.

Can I just mention tangentially, by the way that Nintendo actually implemented the memetic "Green Demon" stuff in Super Mario Maker 2? Japanese game designers are well aware of the Internet, my dudes.

Open world design with few, if ANY, instructions as to where to go

This one is very important and --as I'll elaborate about in a bit--, I think this was created as a direct response to modern game trends. Players want to feel like the game respects their intelligence and is not just a covert Rollercoaster ride of a single player game, of which, all of us have already played a ton of in the PS2 era. Allow people to discover the game world on their own terms, at their own pace, however they see fit. If they can sequence break --great! Allow them to do so, makes for cooler speedruns anyway, and keeps people talking about your game more, right?

"Environmental Storytelling"

And since players want to take charge and take things into their own hands, present the story in small nuggets scattered through the game world. Make them connect the dots and go online to talk about it instead of subjecting them to 80 hours of cinematics that try way too fucking hard to play like a Hollywood movie but end up feeling like cheesy deviantart fanfiction written by a 16 year old (Kojima games, for example). Make them go on message boards and talk to other players about it.

Progressive uncovering of the game world by "chunks", usually triggered by visiting a landmark or completing a mission

(This is totally borrowed from Assassin's Creed, by the way)

Focus on big, bombastic enemy design that cover the whole screen

You gotta showcase your tech at some point! Let people see how far games have come since Super Mario World for the Super Nintendo!

Fun mechanics for traversal, emphasizing engagement with the player inherent to the movement itself

Finally, make movement interesting in some way. Give the players a really cool car, make every step be physically simulated in painstaking detail, let them ride their shield like a snowboard down a mountain or let them glide beautifully down sand dunes. There's probably something very Zen and phillosophical in the middle of all these instances of great movement in games.

My thesis is that the Japanese industry started developing games like these in direct reaction to the American game industry and its production values. Games that exhibit traits of the previous at least in a couple ways: Dark Souls, Monster Hunter, Xenoblade, Zelda Breath of The Wild, Final Fantasy XV, Nier, Death Stranding, Sekiro, Bloodborne, et. al.

It's not that American (British? European?) games are bad, I love GTA and Red Dead and I got Fallout in the backburner. I have heard tons of great things about the Assassin's Creed, Elder Scrolls, The Witcher series. I am totally going to play Cyberpunk 2077 and Sleeping Dogs and Saints Row got me curious. Supposedly Just Cause is the best shit ever. I can appreciate very deeply narrative games, like The Walking Dead, The Last of Us and new experimental ideas like The Order (not very hot about that one).

But as of late and as I grow older, I get the feeling those games have been made more for the aesthetic value of it rather than the game design value, to put it some way, and to be blunt about it, American games are optimized for easy play. Don't think I'm being pedantic. On the contrary, variety is the spice of life, my friend.

Western games have a different strategy for design. They fill hours for the sake of filling hours with cinematics and exponential expansion of its game world rather than to seeking engrossment from the player in the form of, deep, highly skillful games to play.

The reason why this happens, is that now more than ever, the American game sees single-player as a nuisance, or a boring obligation at best --perhaps, merely a way to present a tutorial for newbies, to get them into the Multiplayer ASAP (where the real $$$$$$$$$ lies). Therefore, you shouldn't hold the player back or keep them in the SP for very long. You should make it so the players derive enjoyment from the game from its flow, its fast succession of change, and from the formation of online communities rather than from intricacy.

When you actually want intricacy, you give players................... fucking crafting. Just copy Minecraft, fuck it. Just add a skill tree and a million random classes to make players feel like they're progressing by filling up bars. Trying to appeal to everyone's internal MMO gamer.

And the ultimate concretion of the previous: most games let you skip entire sections if you wish.

Tired of retrying a certain section in Red Dead? Just hit SKIP. Booyah! No obligation, no demands from the game.

Case study: Red Dead Redemption plays itself.

Hahahaha.

Rockstar has used the same loop in all of their open world games for the last 20 years. Every single fucking GTA mission to have ever been releasedfollows the same structure: you drive around to a spot in the game world, watch a cutscene, then drive to another fucking point on the game map while listening to characters blab, watch another cutscene, go through a shooter/stealth section, then watch another cutsccene, and you're done. Wash rinse repeat.

And I think someone sort of confronted them and told them the truth, that nobody really likes just driving around and doing nothing else but listening to rants, if you just want to watch the story unfold. Might as well just "cut to the (literal) chase", right? Or might as well just start shifting GTA into an always-online game at this point, right? (Which they've done kind of majestically with GTA:O btw).

And what was their answer?

"How about... when you start a mission, um... just hit X button to go into "Cinematic Mode". Voila! You don't have to drive anymore!!!!!!!!!!!! Wow! Just take in the sights! And remember you can skip the game if you want! Just watch the cutscenes! Please play GTA:O please!"

Most other games have variations of this. A "super easy" mode that just emphasizes the storytelling experience.

Some Japanese games do this too, though (particularly Nintendo games). Maybe it's just a sign of the times, of gamers being old enough that they have families and responsibilities to attend to, and whose time should be respected by the video game.

In conclusion, this is definitely a trend to watch. Souls-likes have definitely become influential like no other, for the better. Great games they are. I get the feeling that this is the anthithesis to the "game that plays by itself". It's like they wanted to "come of age" and deliver robust games like their counterparts in america were, but they'll be damned if they lose the soul. The soul which gave us Famicom games. The soul of the arcade game, if you may, with several degrees of derivation, adapted for a new era.

[malachi4-6]

Creative solutions in times of deconstruction

[brain dump time]

After years of being wanderers of a foreign land, and avoiding accumulating stuff, I am finally converted by my husband’s book collection to get back physical books and large study Bibles. I think every since moving out of Vancouver, I gave my books away and purely have my pocket Bible and kindle, thinking it’s a hassle and waste of money when I move so much. But I don’t yet foresee what ‘settling’ would look like since we are willing to go anywhere, but we feel settled at heart.

I’ve always thought I am someone who needs structure in order to thrive, my whole life I aim to be disciplined, structured, organized, neat, driven. But I took a personality test for P2C staff and found out that structure is not what I needed, but under stress, it is my go-to to feel safe/ comforted.

In this season of Coronavirus in which every day there are new changes and new limitations, I find myself very restless at home. I was trying to figure out why it is since I usually work from home anyway. God changed my mindset by reminding me that one of the repeated prayers I have for others is also for me. Understanding God is a creator, who make new things, and is still giving and actively creating, and as we reflect his nature, we will also carry the nature of creativity and solution in times of crisis.

With a change of mindset, this past week completely changed for me in terms of thinking, doing, and experimenting with new things in impossible situations. (1) Getting to know the youth. I sensed one of the youth is going to be lonely being homebound, so I offered to hang out with her for two days before more rules came out. Then we moved the hang out to google hangout chats with the junior high and children. (2) House church & broadcast. Got to bring our usual home worship with friends and record preaching, edit for the first time, and upload it. Pulled an all-nighter, but I enjoyed it so much and got to hear the message for a solid ten times as I break it down and put in titles in the hope to help people engage with a long message. (3) introducing an online small group after a sermon. This is something new, our church’s small group is often social & food-related, which we find it hard when we first step into the context. But since God shook the church structure and not allow social, it leads to a creative platform with guided questions for discussion.

This past week’s message is on faith, and our friend Jonathan has been someone who pursuit the growing of faith in very tangible ways of applying biblical principles over his finance, ministry, relationships, etc. Many parts of his message I would go through a shock and have to rethink, contemplate, believe, and then experience over this week. He broke down faith beyond salvation level and speaking boldly into all aspects of our lives. How we view finance, health, relationships, wisdom, etc.

Anyways, it must have had an effect on me. I was wondering what he means in his message regarding how we sometimes want something so badly and we eventually get it; if I understand correctly, he is attributing that to our exercise of faith without even noticing it. As I was pondering on that, interesting things start happening OR I am now noticing it, and in the past, I attribute it to God’s grace purely and passive on my part, but now I’m challenged to see the partnership of both. A simple example was that I was craving a simple burger, but all the places are closed. An unprayed desire. Then our neighbor gave us a HelloFresh box (this is out of ordinary) and it has the burger grocery as part of it and I made my own burger the way I wanted. Only when I took the picture, I was reminded of my desire! Andrew was sharing the dream he had, and I was giving him the interpretation. In the midst, explaining the desire of his heart, then as we were talking about the person, our phone popped up the person’s text (it wasn’t that out of ordinary, but we have heightened alertness for “coincidences”)

This morning with a strong desire/ intuition/ conviction (I don’t know, just felt like it) that I need to put creativity/ creative solutions to practice if this is a season God has for me. I had a strong mission to resurrect and reuse Andrew’s old ipad2, which he deemed as impossible because it is not compatible with the new ISOs for ages. I YouTubed everywhere and most people said impossible and not worth it. I just somehow had a really strong hope that turned into the faith that this iPad will be my solution to two monitors/ one for sermon notes/ slides and one for Zoom recording for this Sunday’s preaching (in this time of Coronavirus). Mind you, this iPad cannot even download the youtube app, chrome app, photos, bible apps, the basics of basics... basically. At one point, Andrew really thought this is not a good use of my time as I was 3 hours in, solving the impossible. BUT it happened in the 5th hour!!! I found a solution to use this old iPad as my second monitor AND downloaded all the apps I need! Oddly, through this experience, I feel like my faith increased and realize faith can be creatively stretched and exercised beyond ‘stepping out of comfort zone’ to evangelize, support raise, or in times of distress. 

Today, faith happened when I was able to envision and be certain about the end product. It remained at the hope level when I just want to make it useful somehow, but the moment I felt I was able to destine its use and purpose, then the solution started to come. Kinda interesting and hard to explain, but I’m glad I get to experiment with what I heard. I like how Jonathan said it: “Faith is the gift from God to us for us to believe, but the growth is dependant on us.” I definitely feel the responsibility for my faith beyond just ‘holding on during persecution’ as I often imagine it to be. But the purpose of experiencing abundant life. 

One last thing that I experiment: healing. Maybe because of his health field? Since the first day I met Andrew, he always had a strong conviction on healing as God’s will, and he is open hand about whether the person gets healed or not. He just know it’s his responsibility to pray. But anyway, one night he was so tired of me scratching so much because of my eczema that he got up and fervently prayed in tongues and declaration over my body. My eczema was drastically 90% better. (the 10% is when the weather gets humid or my stress level goes up, I feel my tendency wanting to scratch the old spots even though it looked completely healed.) Anyways, in Jonathan’s message, he was very confident that he would not get Coronavirus even if his whole neighborhood is with it. He literally said “I just don’t have the faith I will get sick” There is a strong conviction about abundant life and God’s nature, and on top of that it is people’s partnership of worldly knowledge or God’s principle. hmm... not to say we don’t recognize people go through hardships. However, I guess when we try to understand and compromise God’s goodness in order to relate, our message becomes powerless and not truly the goodnews Jesus came to offer that does demonstrate with healing and restoration beyond simply spiritual.

Anyways, I had ice-cream, a very creamy one, and I started reacting because I’m lactose intolerant since coming to the US. Then I caught my thoughts. “wait... with Jonathan’s message even regarding dirty water on missions trip because of putting our faith with the right knowledge of God’s word instead of the world’s word.” Base on his knowledge and faith, nothing goes in him defiles him (both unclean or sick), but what comes out), and he drank the water by faith. I started to renew my mind that I need to contend of healing over my digestive system.” I prayed with declaration over my body and tried the exact same ice-cream today. So far so good, no reaction!!! (i even had cheese today) wow... actually now that I dump all these thoughts and events, I realize there are so many aspects of our lives that we need to exercise faith in, meaning so many of our thoughts is actually not under the captivity of Christ and the Kingdom. The creative solutions are not only for worldly problems, but the creative solutions and exercises are also for spiritual stagnant faith.