#tuesday no problem extended universe

[torreshalstead]

I’ll show you mine - part 4

Summary - He didn’t fit. His clothes were too nice, his hair too neat, he was raising all the red flags for Hailey. She didn’t think he was part of the crew she was trying to take down, but why else would he be in such an establishment on a random Tuesday night? But then he muttered the words into her ear that she had least expected - ‘I’m police’.

Chapters - 4/?

Notes - hope you enjoy the little angsty turn we are taking here but never fear these two will have a happy ending. They deserve it in every universe! Happy Reading ❤️ AO3 Link

She slept like a baby, Jay’s limbs wrapped tightly around her body, his warmth adding to her own. But then Hailey was abruptly pulled back into consciousness with a jolt.

He had told her last night he thought she’d be great in Intelligence, that he thought his boss would offer her a job. And then she had slept with him. What an idiot. If she got moved to Intelligence now, everyone would assume she had just slept her way in, fucked the right person to get her the promotion she wanted.

Hailey’s heart rate started to pick up, the arms around her started to feel like a cage holding her just a fraction too tightly. Her palms went clammy trying to think of a way out of the mess that she had got herself into because she hadn’t been able to keep her libido under control.

It didn’t matter how much she liked him, how she actually for once thought she might have a future with someone. It hadn’t just been a one night stand to her when she had led him by the hand to her bedroom and had let the remainder of her clothes drop to the floor. She had wanted it, wanted him. That wasn’t the problem, but now she had to deal with the repercussions.

Jay had told her it would be worth it, them pushing past that line and jumping into bed together. Had implied that it wouldn’t have an effect on her moving to Intelligence. But he was a man.

He didn’t have to deal with the stigma that followed female cops, especially those who braved the snickers and comments and pursued a relationship with another member of the department. Hailey had seen how women like that had been treated, seen how people had treated her when she had been given her Detective badge at such a young age - the assumption was she had picked the right white shirt and spread her legs. The brothers in blue mantra didn’t extend to those of the fairer sex. It had made her furious.

But that didn’t change the fact that if she walked into Intelligence hand in hand with Jay, she would be treated as less than.

She loved her job, cared about her career and her city and that was the most important thing to her right now. No matter how good the sex was with Jay. No matter how much he seemed to know her, paid attention to her, wanted her for her. That didn’t matter. She needed to end this, before it had a chance to become something more. Before more of her heart was on the line.

But the current problem still remained. They were at her apartment, in her bed and he was currently attached to her like a very attractive barnacle. It had seemed like the best idea to invite him back to hers and not go back to his, but now it seemed like a foolish decision. She couldn’t sneak out when it was her own home!

Or could she?

She could pretend she had a call from work, that they needed her in urgently, text him and tell him to lock up on the way out. She had no qualms leaving him in her apartment, she just needed to ensure he was gone when she got back and then she could just pretend that nothing had happened between them. If she blanked him maybe he would get the hint, wouldn’t push it and they could just get on with their lives.

If she did get the call from Voight about the move to Intelligence then she might have to cross that bridge, but she decided to deal with that if and when it appeared. Maybe it had all been a ploy anyway, a line from Jay to get her into bed. Promise the girl a better job and she’ll drop her panties. And Hailey had done exactly that. She mentally berated herself for the idea, she knew Jay wasn’t the type to do something like that and she felt a twinge of guilt for even thinking such a thing.

Deciding not to wait a second longer for the man next to her to wake from his slumber, though Hailey doubted it would be anytime soon, their final round last night had taken it out of both of them, she slipped out from under his grip. She immediately missed the warm, her naked skin goosepimpling against the chill in the air. She ignored it, grabbing up her discarded jeans from the night before, a clean pair of underwear from her drawer and a flannel she had worn earlier in the week from the back of the chair in the corner. A quick glance behind showed that Jay was still sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that his bedmate was plotting her immediate exit.

She didn’t have time for a shower, the running water would definitely wake him up, so she tugged on her clothes silently, grabbing her phone and tiptoeing from the room. She’d return in a bit once she was certain he had left and shower then to wash the lingering feeling of Jay’s hands off her body. It wasn’t necessarily something she was looking forward to, it felt weirdly final.

—————————————————————————

Hailey settled on texting Jay whilst she sat in the nearby Dunkin’s car park sipping on a coffee that was tasting a little bitter.

Sorry work called, lock up when you leave - Hailey

It was cold and blunt and didn’t reflect how she really felt at all. She truly hoped he wasn’t hurt by her apparent indifference to their night together, that was the last thing she wanted. She had drafted a couple of responses but nothing seemed appropriate - how could she tell him how much she enjoyed their escapades when she had no intention of repeating them, or even with flirting with him again. She was to give him the cold shoulder until he realised that she wasn’t worth his time and moved on to someone else.

A part of her wished it didn’t have to be this way, that she could have kissed him awake that morning and let herself fall back into his arms again. Morning sex was something she loved and she imagined the slow and sensual movements with Jay would have moved it to firmly top of her list.

But she wanted the job.

She wanted the job for not just her but for her team. They deserved to be recognised for their hard work and staying in Narcotics was going to do nothing for them. But if they moved to Intelligence with her and she was marked as someone willing to whore herself out for a promotion, it would reflect badly on them too. And she wouldn’t do that.

Wouldn’t do that to them.

Wouldn’t do it to herself.

No matter how much she wanted to turn her car around and hope he was still at her apartment.

Her message showed as delivered and she waited patiently for the check marks to turn blue. It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes and then she waited.

She didn’t know if she wanted him to reply, or if she did what she wanted him to say.

If the shoe was on the other foot, Hailey wasn’t sure she would have responded to a text like that. A text so conflicting to her words and actions the night before. A text that disguised a lie.

Okay, stay safe at work. I’ll call you later - Jay

He was a better person than she was, she thought as her head thumped back against the headrest, her eyes closing in an effort to fight back the tears. Hailey Upton didn’t cry over a boy. Especially not when she had made her own bed, and that bed didn’t have him in it.

—————————————————————————

By the time Hailey returned to her apartment, it was empty. She let out a shaky breath as she closed the door, a tiny part of her had hoped Jay would still be here. She had no idea what she would have said to him if he had remained, but at least she would have got to see him again.

Plodding into the living room and dropping herself down onto the couch, something on the coffee table caught her eye. Reaching for it, she realised it was a note. Jay had left her a note.

Morning,

I hope you’ve had a good day at work and come home safe. If you’d have stayed I would have cooked you breakfast, or at least made you a coffee. So to make up for it, can I take you for dinner? It doesn’t have to be tonight if you get home late, but another night.

Last night was incredible.

I’ll call you later,

Jay

A breath hitched in her throat as she reread the words, his penmanship could do with some work but it was his words that were having an effect on her. She so badly wanted to take him up on his offer, go out for dinner with him, hold his hand across the table, fight over who would cover the bill and spend another night exploring every inch of his body.

But she let the note drop back down to the coffee table. That would remain a want that would never be fulfilled.

Her night with Jay would remain that. Just a night. No matter how badly she wanted it to be more.

Closing her eyes and trying desperately to banish the memories of the previous evening, she let herself fall back against the couch cushions. She had a plan and she was going to stick to it.

Even if the call from Intelligence never came, dating a cop was never a good idea. There was always politics involved, they could still run into each other on a case. It just wasn’t smart, and she knew that if she thought with her brain rather than another part of her body. She hoped that the call would come however, even with the added complexities of working alongside Jay and ignoring her want to drag him into the locker room and have her way with him, it was a good unit. She would learn a lot there, her team would flourish. It was the right move.

Her phone started to vibrate next to her where she had discarded it upon reading Jay’s note.

Jay Halstead. His name flashed across the screen.

She groaned as she looked at it. She stared at it as it rang out, clicking over to voicemail. The notification came that a message had been left, but she ignored it.

She needed to stay strong and she knew if she listened to his voice then her resolve would waiver. The last time she had heard that voice it had been whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Hailey groaned again.

She switched her phone over to airplane mode. It was easier to ignore his calls if she didn’t have to see them. She knew she should just answer, tell him it meant nothing and was just a good fun night. But somehow lying about it felt ten times worse than just avoiding the matter. Because it was more than that, she knew that, and he had known it too. They had both felt it as they collapsed into each other’s arms, exhausted and drained but content.

Hailey flicked on the TV hoping that something on there would take her focus and she could let her mind wander - preferably away from the freckled green eyed detective who seemed to have taken up residence.

—————————————————————————

Hours had passed by the time Hailey managed to drag herself off the couch and into the shower, relishing the hot water that scolded her body. Netflix had succeeded in taking her mind off Jay for approximately 10 minutes but no matter how much she tried to push his image to the back of her mind, he continually pushed past her defences. Every image that flickered across the screen reminded her of him.

Wrapping herself in her largest towel and letting her wet hair hang down, dripping down her back, she sat herself on her bed and picked up her phone.

She needed to switch it back on, to check that no one from work had needed her today. It was her DO but anyone who worked in a specialised unit knew there was no such thing as a complete day off. Her phone felt like a dead weight in her hand, switching it on would let anything that had come through from Jay come through to her.

She clicked it back on and waited.

2 missed calls - Jay Halstead

1 missed call - Unknown Number

1 text - Jay Halstead

1 voicemail - Unknown Number

Choosing to ignore his text, she assumed it would say something along the lines of what he had said in his previous message or in his note. Who leaves a handwritten note anyway? Like they were in some costume drama or Jane Austen novel. She’d thought about throwing it in the trash, had even scrunched it up but she couldn’t do it. She had flattened it back down and left it on the kitchen counter. Hailey didn’t know why she couldn’t throw it away, that was a question she wasn’t willing to ask herself or admit she probably knew the answer to. Not right now anyway.

The unknown number though, that was something she couldn’t ignore as it could easily be someone from the district who was trying to get a hold of her. So she clicked onto the voicemail and then onto the speaker.

The gravelly voice of the stern Sergeant echoed through her phone. ‘Detective Upton, it’s Sergeant Hank Voight. Can you give me a call when you get this? I’d like to discuss the possibility of you joining us in Intelligence.’

#upstead #Chicago pd #Hailey upton #jay halstead #hailey x jay #one chicago #upstead fic #chicago pd fanfic #upstead fanfic #chicago pd fic #upstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

385 million years ago, fish had fingers.

In Las Vegas, casinos do not have any clocks.

We change our voice when we talk to people we like.

Every year, around 3,000 people get bubonic plague.

You are more likely to be friends with people that smell like you.

It is believed that the Library of Congress has sex tape audio of JFK.

Beer mats were originally placed on top of glasses to keep the dust out.

In 2021, Americans streamed a total of 15 million years’ worth of content.

J.K. Rowling was the first person to ever become a billionaire from writing books.

Super Mario wears a hat because his creator, Shigeru Miyamoto, couldn't draw hair.

If everyone had access to soap to wash their hands, it would save 600,000 lives a year.

55 million years ago, the North Pole had tropical weather, with alligators and palm trees.

Listening to music for at least 5-10 minutes a day makes it easier to deal with emotional stress.

Women cry on average between 30 and 64 times a year, while men cry between 6 and 17 times.

Kanbari nyūdō is a Japanese spirit that lurks around toilets on New Year’s Eve and tries to lick you.

Egyptian Pharaohs were once required to masturbate into the River Nile to keep its flow cycle stable.

Life is not about the people who act true to your face. It's about the people who remain true behind your back.

The chills you sometimes get when listening to music is actually caused by the release of dopamine in your body.

People say "never give up" but sometimes giving up is the best option because you realize you're wasting your time.

When presented with various crisp packets, a gull will almost always choose the same flavour as a nearby human is eating.

According to a study, the two most common feelings that people tend to bring out in others are enthusiasm and boredom.

Scientists say the universe is made up entirely of neurons, protons and electrons. They seem to have forgotten about morons!

Robert Downey Jr was once arrested after he was caught driving naked in his Porsche with cocaine, heroin, and a .357 magnum.

Nutella was invented during WWII, when an Italian pastry maker mixed hazelnuts into chocolate to extend his chocolate ration.

Your first instinct is usually right. So, always go with your first instinct, even if it's a bad idea because bad ideas make good stories.

The true mark of maturity is when somebody hurts you and you try to understand their situation instead of trying to hurt them back.

When you truly believe in what you are doing, it shows. And it pays. Winners in life are those who are excited about where they're going.

Grab a banana for breakfast! They are known as a happy fruit. Eating just one can help relieve irritable emotions, anger and or depression.

Bedtime procrastination is the psychological phenomenon when a person stays up too late in order to feel like they have some time to themselves.

The hottest part of the day isn't noon but between 3.00 – 4.00. The earth warms during the day but continues to get warmer until the late afternoon.

Regular physical activity can boost creativity by up to 60%, as movement increases blood flow to the brain, fostering new connections and ideas.

Research shows that talking to yourself can improve focus, task performance, and problem-solving abilities. It's not a sign of madness but a tool for self-guidance.

Between 1913 and 1914, Sigmund Freud, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Emperor Franz Joseph, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and Leon Trotsky all lived in Vienna within 4km of each other.

Smigus-Dyngus (or ‘Wet Monday’) is a Polish holiday where boys splash girls with water and gently spank them with pussy willow branches. It's a playful tradition celebrated on Easter Monday.

Halle Berry’s divorce has officially been finalized. She will have to pay $8,000 per month in child support to her ex-husband Oliver Martinez and give him 4.3% of any income she receives above $2,000,000.

Sleeping in complete darkness can lead to more vivid and memorable dreams. The absence of light signals the brain to produce melatonin, which promotes REM sleep, the stage most associated with dreaming.

In 1993, a Frenchman named Emile Leray driving a Citroen car in a remote area of the Moroccan desert had a breakdown and became stranded. To survive, he tore down the car, built a motorcycle from the parts and then rode it back to civilization.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #radio #tuesdaymotivation

[helshades]

Hello, I would like to know what will happen tomorrow if the motion is voted negative? and in this case will there be strikes in paris? and also are the blockades in the universities useful, or are the gatherings more effective?

Well, there is a fair chance it won't be adopted anyhow, since the number of right-wing M.P.s willing to sign in their name is likely to be insufficient to garner the required 287 votes.

You see, the historical major party on the Right—roughly speaking, it corresponds to the English Tories or the Republicans in the U.S.—which was founded by national monument General de Gaulle (the French Churchill, though I'd argue a lot less conservative in the end than Sir Winston was), barely survived the last presidential election: from nearly a quarter of the votes back in 2017, it dropped to a shocking 4.78% in 2022. The few people who stayed are basically fossils willing to be faithful to le parti du Général, whereas the ones that fled left spread between Macron's camp and Marine Le Pen's Rassemblement National.

To put it succinctly, the Republicans (the name of the party since the very Atlantist former President Nicolas Sarkozy changed it from U.M.P.) are dead afraid they'd lose what they managed to scrap up during the legislative elections of 2022, which designated députés for each constituency, for a total of 577 members or Parliament in the National Assembly. For decades, the Republicans had collected a vast amount of seats; during the previous legislature, they had 112 of them. Since last year, they only got 61.

Should the motion de censure be adopted this time (it's not the first one this session, but the rest were rejected, chiefly because of L.R.), the government will fall: the Republicans will have to run for office again, when their popularity is at an all-time low as they've appeared to compromise and pactise with the government. Indeed, even though they're officially part of the opposition, they've consistently voted in favour of the presidential majority—and their electors have noticed, and not necessarily appreciated.

In a superb, very droll, but also very fiendish move, the leader of the far-right parliamentary group in the Assembly made an official announcement to promise the Republicans that in case they voted the motion (this time it's being proffered by the very benign, very moderate centrists at the L.I.O.T. group so that everyone could vote it, as the Left wouldn't vote any motion concocted by the R.N.), the R.N. would not run candidates against any of L.R.'s own in the upcoming legislative elections...

Since the crowds that have been rioting for three days and counting keep clamouring for M.P.s to vote the motion to destitute the government, I reckon the uprising will only intensify should it fail to pass nonetheless. As for the strikes, people have been on strike since January. On Tuesday 7th March, they broke a record for the number of protesters in the streets (3.5 million across the country), but most of all, workers have been striking in all sectors with their best efforts—the problem being the sheer state of everybody's finances after two disastrous lockdowns during Covid, plus an aggravating number of ill-advised governmental decisions.

This is no secret, though, the one thing that ever could bend a government, the one true democracy, is the strike. At this scale, we're talking general, unlimited striking, to paralyse a country's infrastructures and industry, and therefore its economy. In France, that represents about 2 billion euros per day. That means cutting supply for shareholders and industry captains, the great capitalists who alone have the power to tell Macron to back off and retire his own bill.

So the real question is, will people be able to prolong and extend the strike, when Macron is evidently determined to letting things go till they rot and the strikers can't hold it any longer. It's also possible that people rioting too close for the personal comfort of wealthy folk in the nicer neighbourhoods may prompt some to ask for appeasement and compromise. By the way, did you know Emmanuel Macron will welcome King Charles in the palace of Versailles next Monday? I do hope some people can take a hint.

#answers #emmanuel macron #riots in france #general strike #nonnies #upthebaguette #49-3

[warningsine]

Former President Donald Trump has entered a plea of not guilty to 37 charges related to the alleged mishandling of classified documents. The plea was made during Trump's arraignment at a federal courthouse in Miami on Tuesday, where his lawyers requested a jury trial.

According to CNN, Trump's attorney, Todd Blanche, informed the judge of their plea, stating, "We most certainly enter a plea of not guilty." The former president and his co-defendant, Walt Nauta, were then booked by deputy marshals, with electronic copies of their fingerprints taken. No mugshot was captured as Trump is easily recognizable. The entire booking process lasted approximately 10 minutes.

The charges brought forth by the Justice Department in the classified documents case have intensified the legal jeopardy surrounding Trump, who is currently the frontrunner for the 2024 GOP nomination. The arraignment hearing on Tuesday primarily involved procedural matters, including Trump's plea and discussions regarding the conditions of his pretrial release. Potential restrictions on Trump's conduct throughout the case may also be addressed.

Special counsel Jack Smith was present at the arraignment, emphasizing the significance of the case. Trump is facing 37 felony counts, accusing him of unlawfully retaining national defense information and concealing documents in violation of witness-tampering laws during the Justice Department's investigation into the materials. Nauta, Trump's close aide, was also charged in the indictment, alleging a conspiracy to obstruct the federal investigation.

Departing from his Doral resort in a motorcade, Trump traveled to the courthouse along with Nauta in a separate vehicle. Responding to a bystander's inquiry about his well-being, Trump replied, "great" and waved. Prior to the court appearance, Trump took to social media, lamenting that it was "ONE OF THE SADDEST DAYS IN THE HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY. WE ARE A NATION IN DECLINE!!!"

High-stakes legal battle begins as former President Trump's case assigned to District Judge Cannon

The hearing on Tuesday marks the beginning of a lengthy and potentially dramatic judicial process, including criminal and appeal proceedings that could span several years. The case has been assigned to US District Judge Aileen Cannon, who was nominated by Trump. Notably, Cannon's previous decision to order a third-party review of an FBI search at Mar-a-Lago was overturned by a conservative appeals court. Magistrate Judge Jonathan Goodman is expected to oversee the proceedings in Miami.

Following the conclusion of Tuesday's hearing, the case will enter a phase of pretrial proceedings, likely involving disputes over evidence and potential motions to dismiss the case before it reaches trial. The Trump defense team will have ample opportunity to prolong the process, potentially extending it beyond the 2024 election.

One crucial aspect that may impact the prosecution is the assignment of Judge Cannon, who resides in Ft. Pierce, Florida, but is part of the pool of judges randomly assigned cases in West Palm Beach, where the new indictment was filed. Legal experts across the spectrum have expressed interest in Cannon's approach, given her controversial handling of the previous Trump lawsuit. Her decisions could potentially cause complications for the prosecution, although the extent of such challenges remains uncertain.

"It is rare to have such influential power as a district judge in a federal case," stated Alan Rozenshtein, a former attorney in the DOJ National Security Division and current law professor at the University of Minnesota. "She could, if she wanted to, cause huge problems for the prosecution. Would they be existential problems? Probably not."

As the legal proceedings continue, the nation will closely watch how this high-profile case unfolds and its potential implications for the former president.

#donald trump #politics #us #news

[newstfionline]

Monday, July 4, 2022

Wary US treads water with transformed COVID-19 (AP) The fast-changing coronavirus has kicked off summer in the U.S. with lots of infections but relatively few deaths compared to its prior incarnations. COVID-19 is still killing hundreds of Americans each day, but is not nearly as dangerous as it was last fall and winter. “It’s going to be a good summer and we deserve this break,” said Ali Mokdad, a professor of health metrics sciences at the University of Washington in Seattle. With more Americans shielded from severe illness through vaccination and infection, COVID-19 has transformed—for now at least—into an unpleasant, inconvenient nuisance for many. “It feels cautiously good right now,” said Dr. Dan Kaul, an infectious diseases specialist at the University of Michigan Medical Center in Ann Arbor. “For the first time that I can remember, pretty much since it started, we don’t have any (COVID-19) patients in the ICU.”

Americans have had it with inflation (WSJ) James Duffy used to frequent the coffee shop on weekends to enjoy an Americano and read a book. Then, rising inflation started to bite. Mr. Duffy, 25 years old, began cutting back on coffee outings earlier this year. Now, he brews a big pot of coffee at home, part of a broader attempt to save money as prices rise for gas and groceries. The Greenwich, Conn., resident said he is becoming more of a homebody, limiting his outings to walks and get-togethers with friends. Mr. Duffy, a residential counselor, has also started cutting costs in the grocery store—even on the smallest luxuries. “Now, it’s like I kind of second guess if I really needed to get this,” Mr. Duffy said. “I’ve definitely been more frugal with spending habits.” Consumer prices increased at an 8.6% annual rate in May, marking a new four-decade high. Many Americans, unable or unwilling to stomach the higher prices, are starting to forgo some purchases and outings. A survey of consumer sentiment fell to its lowest point on record.

Spurred by the Supreme Court, a Nation Divides Along a Red-Blue Axis (NYT) Pressed by Supreme Court decisions diminishing rights that liberals hold dear and expanding those cherished by conservatives, the United States appears to be drifting apart into separate nations, with diametrically opposed social, environmental and health policies. Call these the Disunited States. The most immediate breaking point is on abortion, as about half the country will soon limit or ban the procedure while the other half expands or reinforces access to reproductive rights. But the ideological fault lines extend far beyond that one topic, to climate change, gun control and L.G.B.T.Q. and voting rights. On each of those issues, the country’s Northeast and West Coast are moving in the opposite direction from its midsection and Southeast—with a few exceptions, like the islands of liberalism in Illinois and Colorado, and New Hampshire’s streak of conservatism. The tearing at the seams has been accelerated by the six-vote conservative majority in the Supreme Court. “They’ve produced this Balkanized house divided, and we’re only beginning to see how bad that will be,” said David Blight, a Yale historian who specializes in the era of American history that led to the Civil War.

Argentine economy minister resigns amid peso, diesel woes (AP) Argentina’s economy minister resigned unexpectedly Saturday, dealing a fresh blow to the government of President Alberto Ferández as the country struggles with economic problems. Martín Guzmán stepped down after a week in which Argentina’s currency hit an all-time low against the dollar amid sizzling inflation and truck drivers staged protests over shortages of diesel fuel. The resignation came at the end of a week of economic turmoil. With the Argentine peso sliding against the dollar, the government on Tuesday made it harder to acquire dollars to pay for imports as the local currency reached new lows in the parallel market used by citizens and companies to bypass official channels. Argentina has suffered for years from a shortage of dollars, which stems partly from the distrust of Argentines in their own currency amid high inflation. Inflation is running at an annual rate of more than 60% and economists expect the rate to keep worsening.

Three dead in Copenhagen mall shooting; suspect arrested (AP) A gunman opened fire inside a busy shopping mall in the Danish capital on Sunday, killing three people and wounding four others, police said. A 22-year-old Danish man was arrested, Copenhagen police inspector Søren Thomassen told reporters, adding there was no indication that anyone else was involved in the attack, though police were still investigating. Such shootings are rare in Denmark. Thomassen said it was too early to speculate on the motive for the shooting, which happened in the late afternoon at Field’s, one of the biggest shopping malls in Scandinavia and located on the outskirts of the Danish capital. When the shots rang out, some people hid in shops while others fled in a panicked stampede, according to witnesses.

Regulator urges Germans to prepare for possible gas shortage (AP) Fearing Russia might cut off natural gas supplies, the head of Germany’s regulatory agency for energy called on residents Saturday to save energy and to prepare for winter, when use increases. Federal Network Agency President Klaus Mueller urged house and apartment owners to have their gas boilers and radiators checked and adjusted to maximize their efficiency. “Maintenance can reduce gas consumption by 10% to 15% ,” he told Funke Mediengruppe, a German newspaper and magazine publisher. Mueller said residents and property owners need to use the 12 weeks before cold weather sets in to get ready. He said families should start talking now about “whether every room needs to be set at its usual temperature in the winter—or whether some rooms can be a little colder.”

A call to arms: Poland’s military and civilian defenses rethink the future (Washington Post) A few days after Russian troops stormed into Ukraine in February, Eryk Klossowski issued an unusual request to senior staff at the Polish utilities company he headed. War was raging across the border. It was time, he reasoned, for his team to expand its corporate training. Everyone should learn how to shoot a gun. “Russia can still take more military steps and can trigger asymmetrical threats, like terrorist assaults,” said Klossowski, 46, who now is planning weapons training for hundreds of rank-and-file employees in after-work sessions this fall. “Everybody needs to be prepared.” The war in Ukraine has marked a new era of Russian aggression, rekindling the threat of nuclear war and unleashing global food and energy crises that have sent prices soaring worldwide. But for neighboring countries, long familiar with the Russian threat, the war is provoking something more: a national call to arms.

In City Where ‘Europe Starts,’ Ethnic Russians Start Questioning Putin’s War (NYT) Like many of the ethnic Russians who live along Estonia’s eastern border with Russia, Stanislava Larchenko could not believe that President Vladimir V. Putin had gone on a killing spree in Ukraine. Ms. Larchenko, 51, got angry with her son when he said in February after Mr. Putin invaded Ukraine that Russian soldiers were killing civilians. She insisted the carnage was the work of Ukrainians dressed in Russian uniforms, a trope of the state television beamed in from Russia that she watched. “For me, Russia was always a liberator, a country that got attacked but never attacked others,” Ms. Larchenko said in the Estonian border city of Narva, NATO’s easternmost outpost and the European Union’s most ethnically Russian city. But after four months of war, Ms. Larchenko said she had “taken off my rose-colored glasses”—and stopped quarreling with her son, Denis, 29, after taking his advice to stop watching Russian state TV. “Psychologically,” she said, “I have passed over to the other side.” In a city where nearly everyone speaks Russian instead of Estonian and faces social pressure to stick with their ethnic group, Ms. Larchenko is unusual in her willingness to state openly that she no longer sees Russia as a force for good but as an aggressor. That so few Russians in Estonia’s free and democratic society are ready to do this is perhaps an indicator of how difficult any change of heart will be for people in Russia, where open criticism of the war is a criminal offense.

Ill Prepared for Combat, Volunteers Die in Battles Far From Home (NYT) Yurii Brukhal, an electrician by trade, did not have a very dangerous role when he volunteered for Ukraine’s territorial defense forces at the start of the war. He was assigned to make deliveries and staff a checkpoint in the relative safety of his sleepy village. Weeks later, his unit deployed from his home in the west to a frontline battle in eastern Ukraine, the center of the fiercest fighting against Russian forces. He was killed on June 10. Andrii Verteev, who worked in a grocery store in the village, spent the first months of the war guarding a small overpass after work and returning home to his wife and daughter at night. Then he, too, volunteered to head east. He died in battle in Luhansk, only weeks before Mr. Brukhal. Their deaths have driven home the extent to which the war is reaching into every community across the country, even those far from the front. It has also underscored the risks faced by volunteers, with limited training, who are increasingly heading into the kind of battles that test even the most experienced soldiers. Their bodies are being returned to fill up cemeteries in largely peaceful cities and towns in the country’s west.

Lysychansk ‘on fire’ as two sides dispute control of eastern city (Washington Post) Russian forces are entrenching themselves in the Lysychansk area, and the city is “on fire,” the regional governor said Sunday morning. Serhiy Haidai, governor of the Luhansk region, said Russian fighters attacked Lysychansk—a key piece in Russia’s effort to capture the eastern Donbas region—and are using tactics even more brutal than in Severodonetsk, the neighboring city seized last month. Russia said Saturday its forces had encircled Lysychansk, which Ukraine disputed. But the Ukrainian counterclaims were probably “outdated or erroneous,” according to an analysis from the Washington-based Institute for the Study of War, which said Ukrainian forces probably conducted a “deliberate withdrawal” from the city. Unconfirmed videos showed Russian forces erecting a red “victory” flag in Lysychansk and “casually walking around” its neighborhoods.

China lashed by year’s first typhoon, record rains forecast (Reuters) China’s first typhoon of the year brought gales and rain to its southern shores on Saturday, as forecasters warned of record rainfall and high disaster risk in provinces including Guangdong, the country’s most populous. Typhoon Chaba, the Thai name for the hibiscus flower, was moving northwest at 15 to 20 km (10 to 15 miles) per hour after the eye of the storm made landfall in Guangdong’s Maoming city on Saturday afternoon, the National Meteorological Center said in a statement. Chaba, though medium in intensity and expected to lose strength over time, is likely to bring extremely heavy rains and may break the record for cumulative rainfall as it pulls the monsoon rain belt in the region inland.

3 feet of rain sets up 4th round of flood misery for Sydney (AP) More than 30,000 residents of Sydney and its surrounds were told to evacuate or prepare to abandon their homes Monday as Australia’s largest city faces its fourth, and possibly worst, round of flooding in less than a year and a half. Days of torrential rain caused dams to overflow and waterways to break their banks, bringing a new flood emergency to parts of the city of 5 million people. “The latest information we have is that there’s a very good chance that the flooding will be worse than any of the other three floods that those areas had in the last 18 months,” Emergency Management Minister Murray Watt said.

#headlines #news

[translationandbetrayals]

Shin'ichirō Watanabe: cosmopolitism in the land of invisible walls

Once upon a time there was a country that had the oldest population in the world, and yet, it's unemployment rate was one of the lowest. It had been economically stagnant for the last 30 years, and yet, it was the third largest economy in the world. It had a chronic need for labor, and yet, it was “allergic to immigration”. Yes, I'm talking about Japan. And yes, that last one was a euphemism.

  No country for foreigners

You see, Japan is especially good at masking the problems that concern it. If a Western country does it, it is conservative, but if Japan does it, it's “traditional”. If a Western country does it, it is xenophobia, but in Japan it's just an “allergy to immigration”.

For a country that benefited from globalization, it is very hermetic on a social level. And it is no wonder, since it's immigration laws are practically prohibitive. Come on, the rest of the world perceives the Japanese society as an ethno-nationalist one as opposed to a multi-cultural one.

Japan is an incredible country (being the third largest economy is not easy), perfectly designed for them, but very unkind to foreigners (I'm talking about emigrating, not about going for a month as a tourist, because in that aspect they have done a very good job).

Despite what the media usually preaches, you can (not) be different. Japanese society is the incarnation of the -also Japanese- proverb “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” And when you, just by your looks, already stand out, you… you are gonna be getting hammered like crazy. 

No matter what, immigrants can never claim an integration with the Japanese national identity, even over the long term. This national identity is presented as impenetrable: the language is difficult, the culture almost only inheritable. And the welcome extended to foreigners comes with the clause that an invisible wall will always exist between “us” and “them”.

  Embracing mixture

It’s in this country of giant borders and invisible walls that anime director Shin'ichirō Watanabe stands out.

Watanabe is mainly known for two things: the mixing of different genres and his love for music. In Cowboy Bebop, the most paradigmatic case, he mixes Western cinema with film Noir, Hong Kong action films and various musical genres, relying mainly on Jazz. He connects extremely dissimilar things separated by time and space. However, this mixture, this “declaration of intentions” by breaking down the borders between genres is not only aesthetic. Cowboy Bebop, Space Dandy, Carole and Tuesday: this three are all works by him set in space, in a particularly diverse future. It is not the Japanese who conquered space, but humanity as a whole. Arabs, Mexicans, Americans, in different sizes and colors. The future he imagines is particularly multicultural, especially thinking about how ethnically reduced anime usually is (and no, the typical blonde American girl who is an exchange student is not enough).

On the other side, music is -to me at least- the true universal language, and it seems that Watanabe thinks the same way. Music is what ties up his series in the first place, but I'm glad to see how this way of understanding music has affected the production itself, leading him to work mostly with Western musicians for Carole and Tuesday (which makes sense given its premise of dissimilar people connecting through music).

  Samurais and… what?!

Watanabe has made incredible mixes throughout his work: Space Adventurers with Disco, or Bounty Hunters with Jazz, but the one that continues to surprise me the most is Samurai with Hip Hop.

Samurai Champloo (2004) is a series set in a fictional version of Japan during the Edo Period. Our protagonists are Fuu -a girl, Mugen -a wanderer, and Jin -a samurai, who embark on a journey in search of the “samurai who smells like sunflowers”. Thus, the series narrates their travels and the trouble they get into.

"Champloo" is an Okinawan word meaning "mixed up" or "stirred together." Living up to its name, the series employs a mix of historical settings from the Edo Period, with modern references and styles, especially Hip Hop culture and music. By taking place in the past, Watanabe takes the liberty of creating his own mix of temporalities, presenting anachronisms (characters wearing the equivalent of Adidas clothing), or modifying historical events (in episode 23, Commodore Matthew Perry tries to forcefully do business with Japan not only with intimidation, but also by winning a baseball game, and he loses).

However, the episode that concern us is episode 6: Stranger Searching.

  Once upon a time there was a country

In this episode, the three enter an eating contest, giving up their swords as payment, but all lose to Joji, a strange looking man. In exchange for a city tour, Joji agrees to return the swords. While on the tour, the group defend Joji from samurai enforcers seeking him as a foreigner. During one point when cornered, Joji reveals himself as Isaac Titsingh of the Dutch East India Company, and the samurai leave them alone. The group says goodbye, continues on their way and the episode ends.

What I find incredible about this episode is how contemporary it feels, and the parallels established between sexuality and nationality. You see, Joji was a homosexual in Holland. The 17th century Holland:

- In my country, they treat me like deviant.

Until one day he discovered a Japanese book with a quite suggestive title: “Great Mirror of Male Love”:

-Japan is wonderful! Wonderful culture of man love! When I read that, I thought that Japan would be a country like heaven on Earth.

Sadly, this dialogue between Joji and a samurai enforcer gives you an idea of reality:

-Why do you arrets me? I don’t do anything wrong.

-Here in our land of the rising sun, even if dogs, cats, or even worms are allowed to live, there’s no law saying that foreigners are allowed to!

Truly, the parallel between sexuality and nationality as a useless distinction for a “citizen of the world” is brilliant, as is the use of the series' anachronistic nature to reinforce its contingency. It's sad to see that not much has changed since then, but I refuse to give up on my dream: true understanding.

  Cosmopolitanism

Cosmopolitanism is the idea that all human beings are members of a single community. The term comes from the Greek etymology of "citizen of the world". Cosmopolitanism can be traced back to old man Diogenes a few hundred years B.C., who rejected the idea that one should be importantly defined by one’s city of origin, as was typical of Greeks of the time. It is a broad term with many interpretations, but culturally speaking, cultural borders are no longer rigid and no longer coincide with physical or political borders. It is a more perceptive and sensitive approach to hybridity, couplings, ambiguities and syncretisms.

New York as a physical space that serves as a cultural melting pot, internet as a space for dialogue and interaction that expands our horizon: peace is not achieved by homogeneity through isolation, but by understanding heterogeneity.

It is frustrating that in the process of conformation of identity, to construct the “self”, we need an "other" from which to differentiate ourselves. I guess if one day there was an alien invasion, nations would probably put their differences aside and start acting together as “humanity”. In the same way, when a country faces internal social fractures, the government looks for another country to serve as a straw man to attack, to reinforce national unity against this common and external enemy (c’mon, half of the 20th century history was about that). I understand it, and that's why I'm saddened by it.

  Now what?

Luckily, “No one knows what the future holds. Its potential is infinite”. There’s something poetic in Joji’s story, because despite being treated like a deviant in his country, Netherland became the first country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage in 2001.

What I'm trying to say is that change is always possible. It will always be possible to build bridges between cultures. Let's just look at Adult Swim. This was the gateway to anime for young Americans in the late 90's and early 2000's. It acts as a subtle reminder to an entire generation to think globally, starting with recognizing other countries. Their effort and importance at bridging cultural gaps has always captivated me. The Adult Swim anime par excellence, FLCL, flew under the radar in Japan and was practically forgotten after it aired its final episode. Japanese viewers just didn't click with it. Were it not for Adult Swim -and its niche experimental brand- FLCL would've been practically erased from history. And needless to say, since then, increasing globalization has forced the anime industry to expand its production processes beyond its original borders.

Insight allows for commonality, a boon in the internet age. Finding common ground allows people to make changes worldwide. And that's what the world needs right now. That is why I find Shin'ichirō Watanabe's vision valuable. When embracing mixture, you are demolishing the invisible walls that plague the world. Destroy the boundaries between music, film genres, mediums, countries, sensibilities: ultimately, between people.

Anime can change perspectives. For example, in this context of low birth rates, you can see how animes like Usagi Drop, Sweetness & Lightning, Spy x Family or Kotaro Lives Alone have proliferated. Series that practically shout in your face “Look how nice it is to raise a child! Please have babies!” (and while it's not necessarily propaganda, you get the point).

I'm not saying you can end racism just by making Rush Hour with Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker (great comedy, go watch it). It is not that simple. But definitely, art and stories are capable of changing the world. Sometimes it's like a drill that pierces the heavens. Sometimes it's like the drop that persistently erodes the rock. Sometimes it happens overnight, and sometimes it takes 400 years.

By the end of the episode, we can find a certain melancholy in Joji's words:

-I had hoped that I could live in this country as a Japanese. But I suppose that is not possible yet.

But we can also find hope:

-But eventually, the day will come when this country will accept people like me. I am sure that this country will stop being so tight assed one day.

I am sure too, Joji. I am sure too...

Raimundo Gumucio

#Anime #Japan #essay

[hardynwa]

Climate Change: Prof. Okereke expresses dismay over negligence of local people, communities in intervention efforts

The Director Centre for Climate Change and Development Alex Ekwueme Federal University, Prof. Chukwumerije Okereke has expressed dismay over the negligence of the local people in intervention efforts on climate change adaptation and mitigation in Nigeria. Prof. Okereke stated this during the final stakeholders’ workshop organized to share the key findings of the project on understanding the effectiveness of Local Communities in taking necessary action through locally-led adaptation (LLA) which started in 2022 with sponsorship from Africa Policy Research Institute (APRI) Berlin, Germany in close collaboration with the Centre for Climate Change and Development (CCCD) AE-FUNAI and the Department of Climate Change (DCC) Federal Ministry of Environment, Nigeria, held at Chida International Events Centre, Utako, Abuja on Tuesday, 8th August, 2023. Prof Chukwumerije Okereke, lamented over what he described as “over-concentration” of intervention efforts at the national and sub-national levels at the negligence of the local people who are sometimes the most vulnerable. He pointed out that the often-neglected local people possess potentials such as intelligence and resourcefulness in innovating ways of adapting to climate change. These potentials, he said, must not be overlooked by policy maakers. Prof. Okereke cautioned against Mal-Adaptation which causes more problems in the bid to introduce adaptation strategies. According to him, adaptation strategies should be context-specific and context-sensitive if they must effectively address existing problems. He encouraged capacity building of human resources through training and re-training so as to achieve country and community ownership for sustenance of project results and recommended practices. Speaking on the project context, Dr Grace Mbungu, Head of Climate Change Program, APRI-Berlin, noted that much work had been undertaken by individuals on climate adaptation with several climate change adaptation and mitigation plans and frameworks in Nigeria, yet the status of available adaptation practices is not clear in the policy documents, thus no clear assessment of implementation gaps and locally led processes. Dr. Mbungu further advocated for Nigeria’s adoption of a bottom-top approach during decision-making process by involvement of vulnerable communities and stakeholders in order to harness their ideas, local knowledge and practices. Through this strategy, she said that Nigeria can mainstream locally-led adaptation (LLA) in her adaptation plans which would ensure effective, efficient and equitable adaptation action implementation In her opening remarks, the Director, DCC, Dr Iniobong Abiola-Awe, who represented the permanent secretary, Federal Ministry of Environment, expressed happiness on the high turn out to the workshop amidst the short notice. She reiterated the impacts of climate change as experienced by everyone today in all aspects of life hence the need to assess the adaptation strategies adopted by communities to mitigate the impacts of climate change. Dr Eloka Okeke, senior research fellow, APRI-Berlin, while presenting the report of the project, made a summary presentation of findings from the project. Dr. Okeke explained that the project focused on the experiences of the three case study communities, their adaptive strategies, best practices and pathways, gaps and challenges. The presentation elicited comments and questions were received from participants including passionate appeals to extend the project to the other parts of the country and the integration of climate change education into the curriculum of schools for improved awareness creation on climate change concepts and issues. In his brief remarks, Prof Chinedum Nwajiuba, the immediate past Vice- Chancellor of Alex Ekwueme Federal University, Ndufu Alike, reminded the participants about the contributions of NASPA-CCN in creating a pathway for climate change adaptation and mitigation plans and framework for Nigeria. The final stakeholders’ workshop was attended by the permanent secretary of the Ministry of Environment ably represented by Dr Iniobong Abiola-Awe, Director, Department of Climate Change (DCC), Dr Abimbola Olumide, the Executive Director, APRI-Berlin, Dr Grace Mbungu , Head of Climate Change Program, APRI-Berlin, Prof Chukwumerije Okereke, Director CCCD AE-FUNAI, Prof Chinedum Uzoma Nwajiuba, immediate past Vice Chancellor, AE-FUNAI. Other participants included the representatives from civil society organizations (CSOs), policy makers, think tanks from the Academia, representatives of student groups, to mention but a few. The APRI project report was presented and launched by the permanent secretary of the Ministry of Environment ably represented by Dr Iniobong Abiola-Awe, Director, Department of Climate Change (DCC). Read the full article

[xtruss]

US Uses ‘Ideological Bias To Split World,’ Aims For Confrontation

— Yang Sheng and Xu Yelu | March 28, 2023

US democracy Illustration: Liu Rui/Global Times

As the US will hold its second "Summit for Democracy" from Wednesday to Thursday, Chinese experts said that compared to the first summit in 2021, the latest event shows nothing new in nature - fake democracy but real hegemony, as the standard for inviting the guest countries is based on Washington's diplomatic preferences and serves its hegemonic strategy to split rather than unite the world with ideological bias.

The US is a country with messy internal governance, and the human rights situation in the country is in deep trouble. The US political system, with endless partisan struggles, continues to divide the nation and fails to solve problems of grave concerns to Americans, analysts said. Therefore, Washington is totally unqualified and is in no position to lecture others about democracy and "human rights," and the event will only make the US look even more awkward and embarrassed.

According to the US Department of State, the "Summit for Democracy" will be held from March 29 to 30 with leaders from Costa Rica, the Netherlands, South Korea and Zambia participating. The US has also extended invitations to 120 foreign governments and other partners to attend the event, mainly via video links.

The criteria for invitation is very vague, as many countries with Western democratic political systems are not on the list. For instance, the EU member Hungary and the NATO member Turkey are apparently not included. Singapore, a small country with a developed economy which plays a key role to bridge the West and the East, has also not been invited. The US Department of State refused to discuss the criteria, media reported.

Fake Democracy, Real Hegemony

Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova said on Tuesday that the summit is all about forming an ideological platform for combating countries whom the American political elite labels as autocracies, primarily Russia and China.

"The US has no moral right to lecture others amid chronic domestic issues. This binary way of thinking in 'black-white' or 'good guys vs bad guys' does not work in real life. And it is in no way good for building long-term relations with sovereign countries," Zakharova said, according to Tass.

"We applaud the remarks of the Russian side," Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson Mao Ning said at a routine press conference on Tuesday. "We have stated our position on the so-called "Summit for Democracy" on multiple occasions. Despite the many problems at home, the US is hosting another "Summit for Democracy" in the name of promoting democracy, an event that blatantly draws an ideological line between countries and creates division in the world. The act violates the spirit of democracy and further reveals the US' pursuit of primacy behind the facade of democracy," Mao said.

Experts said just as at the first summit, the second summit will still be a platform for the US to use the pretexts of democracy and "human rights" to divide other countries and to gather a group of its followers to target another group of countries that refuse to obey the US hegemony. Many of those participants will be reluctant to simply follow US instructions to show hostility to countries that the US dislikes.

US President Joe Biden understands that the previous Trump administration seriously damaged the image of US "democracy," and the fairytale of being a so-called beacon of democracy had basically collapsed. "So, he hopes to use the 'democracy summit' to restore the US' confidence, curb China's influence, and at least maintain an advantage of an ideological slogan in its competition with China," Lü Xiang, a research fellow at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, told the Global Times on Tuesday.

Chang Jian, director of the Research Center for Human Rights at the Tianjin-based Nankai University, told the Global Times on Tuesday that the Biden administration is using "democracy" as a strategic tool. Such a summit is not inclusive but more hegemonic, which runs counter to the nature of democracy.

Is US democracy heading toward a dead end? — Xin Ping! Crumbling US democracy. Illustration: Liu Rui/Global Times, September 30, 2022

Arrogant Lecturer

China's State Council Information Office on Tuesday issued its Report on Human Rights Violations in the US in 2022, revealing that human rights legislation and justice in the US have seen an extreme regression, further undermining the basic rights and freedoms of the American people.

2022 witnessed a landmark setback for US human rights, the report said. In the US, a country which labels itself a "human rights defender," chronic afflictions such as money in politics, racial discrimination, gun and police violence, as well as wealth polarization are rampant, it noted.

The report said that the US is a country defined by extreme violence, where people are threatened by both violent crime and violent law enforcement, and their safety is far from being guaranteed. Prisons are overcrowded and have become a modern slavery establishment where forced labor and sexual exploitation are commonplace. The US' self-proclaimed civil rights and freedoms have become empty talk.

Since the first "democracy summit" in 2021, the bad situation of US "democracy" has not been improved, Lü said. "The latest shooting in Tennessee, where three children were killed, is living proof. The terrible gun problem has not been solved or eased at all, and it's even worsening. This, in fact, shows the infirmity of US 'democracy,'" he noted.

A "democracy summit" under failed internal governance and countless social problems is meaningless, Lü said. "It might make sense if the participants at the summit were genuinely talking about how to solve the problems for US 'democracy.' But what the US wants them to do is hail the US as 'a beacon of democracy' in the world, and that the participants are 'democracies' with US recognition. They are supposed to follow the US leadership to lecture, oppose and confront those who are not 'democratic' enough. This brings nothing good and is harmful for the international community."

"The so-called summit is not a serious event. It is being used by the Biden administration to consolidate its domestic positions. Even within the US, the summit is not been taken seriously by many people. I don't think we should even pay attention to it," Alexander Lukin, director of the Center for East Asian and SCO Studies at the Moscow State Institute of International Relations, told the Global Times in a previous interview.

[jreynoldsward]

Writing accountability post # 3 and some thoughts about serialization

So this was the week that things kinda fell apart.

Hey, sooner or later I knew I would have a bad week. I got some words down, but there were a couple of days that were more about doing other things and not getting words down.

Mind you, some of those things that I did were important, after all. One day that ended up with several lengthy phone calls with husband and friends. One day of managing problems with an online insurance payment. Several days of grogginess due to body aches because of medicine hangovers.

Stuff happens. It's just the way it is.

On the other hand, I managed to get A Different Life: Now. Always. Forever. uploaded to Amazon, Draft2Digital, and IngramSpark. I made the full wrap cover for the paperback. That whole process took a big chunk out of one day, but now the book is uploaded and in pre-orders for the February 7th release.

I finished enough of Federation Cowboy to get ten episodes uploaded to Kindle Vella. It will start releasing 3x a week on Tuesday. Now I just need to get several more big chunks written so that I can focus on other things, like creating marketing plans for the year. Setting up accounts as part of my promotional plan. Planning the fantasy series, or at least beginning some sort of planning so that I can start work on it in a month or two. Fiddling with Pinterest and Post.

The Goddess's Vision books are not going to be serialized. I may change my mind at some point, but right now, Kindle Vella is for work that is partially visualized and is my incentive to get that stuff finished and out in the world. If bonuses end in March, as rumored, then it will be less of a priority. I just don't seem to have many readers there. Martiniere Stories is pretty much committed to The Cost of Power for 2023. Though I've had some interesting little twists pop up...such as well, I might end up doing more with the Zingter nanos (which will start showing up in the serial version about March). I've come up with some thoughts about just how Ruby manages to implement mind control vocals in this world without formal training and programming, and it's all tied into Zingter. Ruby in this universe may also start seeing the multiverse-traveling digital thought clones at about the same time as Gabe--and this universe's Philip becomes aware of them very early, especially the version of himself that is aggressively attacking other versions of Gabe and Ruby in other universes. And...influencing other versions of Philip to go over-the-top.

But this is more of a fanfic project (yes, I consider writing alternative versions of my own world to be fanfiction, maybe my ultimate fanfic).

Federation Cowboy is also taking some significant twists from the original plan. It's going to be interesting when I start balancing the serial work with non-serial work, because what I am really starting to like about serial work is that I can work on one thing for a while, get ahead of required episodes for several weeks (if not months), and then work on another project while letting that one simmer. I think it's actually causing me to create more meaningful work because of that simmer stage. I'll not completely leave a serial project alone--I'll go back and poke at it, tweak what's already been posted (but not post revisions, serial work is rough draft only), and let the brain chew on what I have in progress.

Having stories be drafted in a serial form with set release times is actually kinda freeing, really. I can say to myself, "well, I'm this far ahead on this project, so I can turn my focus elsewhere" without losing precious momentum. It's very interesting and different. Hit a roadblock on one project? Well, with enough of a publication cushion, I can switch out to something that needs advancing. The Substack schedule is once a week while the Vella schedule is three times a week. I'm doing much more drafting with Substack, while with Vella, I'm poking at already-written stuff that just needs to be extended into something that is at least novella-length.

With non-serial projects, though, there isn't that sense of accomplishment when I've written enough to upload for publication. I have to plug straight through the rough draft, then the first revision, then get it out to betas, then revise again.

Will I be able to do both, or will I break down and serialize the Goddess's Vision books?

We shall see.

#writing accountability #serial novel #Goddess's Vision #Federation Cowboy #Kindle Vella #Substack Fiction #the cost of power #Martinieres!

[bronanlynch]

recent media consumption summary

it’s been a while huh. sorry this one is all text but finding images takes up way more of my brain

listening: for some unknown reason I’ve had Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne stuck in my head nonstop for the past several days. sometimes you need to listen to ‘not like other girls’ pop punk from the 00s as a treat I guess

reading: making slow progress through Harrow the Ninth, I don’t understand what’s happening but I enjoy the vibes. this series sure can fit so many terrible woman

reread Six of Crows (and part of Crooked Kingdom) because after watching Shadow & Bone I missed my terrible children. forgot that Kaz is so much more of an asshole in the book that you get to see in the show and I do love that and think it’s fun when he does terrible crimes

also working my way through Lord Seventh because sometimes what you need is a BL novel about political intrigue. also because it’s A Lot easier for me to read things that are on my computer instead of in a physical book because reading a physical book is a commitment to closing my computer and only thinking about one thing for an extended period of time which is difficult because my brain doesn’t work

watching: Word of Honor, as everyone can probably tell from, y’know, my entire blog. I would say I’m sorry but I’m not, it’s not My fault that it’s the only thing I can think about or that most of my conversations with my roommate are just us saying “oh my god they’re in love” back and forth

Nirvana in Fire, because once again, love a political intrigue/court drama. I’ve decided that the reason I love that kind of story so much is because it hits the same part of my brain as a heist movie except slower, because it’s still all about watching a plan come together, except instead of lots of fast-paced heist sequences most of the action is people sitting in rooms talking to each other, and I am a very dialogue-driven writer and consumer of media

Shadow and Bone, like almost everyone else on the internet apparently. my roommates were like “Eliot you need to watch this show it has so many things that you like” and I was like “yes I’m already watching it and I read the books so I’ve been Waiting for this for so long.” anyway it was fun and extremely pretty, and it was interesting to see them adapt various parts of the source material at the same time, even if I think they sometimes did so in ways that will weaken later character arcs (if the Six of Crows character are Already this cool and badass and able to take jobs overseas, how are they going to have any growth left during the events of the books that are presumably gonna be next season’s plot? who knows!). my main Actual Serious Critique is that some of the treatment of race was. kinda weird? there’s a lengthier discussion of that in this article but Imo it was. kind of a weird choice on the part of the showrunners to depict racism as the two light-skinned biracial leads having people be mean about their looks, meanwhile there are plenty of other characters of color for whom that just. doesn’t seem to be an issue? especially when some of the racism towards the main character comes from other people of color? and that’s just kinda not addressed

had a Godzilla movie marathon with my roommates, we watched Shin Godzilla (2016, the only one we watched that was actually good, focused the most on 1) showing me the cool monster 2) the bureaucracy and corruption in the government response and 3) the actual human cost of that kind of disaster, I’m sure there are plenty of thinkpieces on American vs. Japanese disaster movies and how national traumas and tragedies play into that), part of Godzilla (2014, bad and boring and barely shows you the monster so we skimmed it), Godzilla: King of Monsters (2019, fun for a stupid loud action movie, they showed me plenty of cool monsters, the final boss battle showed my former workplace being destroyed by a giant monster), Godzilla vs. Kong (2021, slightly less fun and made less sense but there was a Godzilla mech powered by the brain of one of the monsters from King of Monsters and I think they should’ve done more with that)

I think the SamBucky show had one more episode since last time I did this? anyway the finale was bad. Sam’s speech about how the rich politicians suck was good but it came after they killed the people who were actually trying to help so it kinda didn’t mean as much as it should’ve. anyway here are two articles talking about how much the politics suck because wow what an incoherent centrist mess. also super fucked up to have a white guy who represents American imperialism invoke BLM as a gotcha against a Black woman who’s trying to help marginalized people

playing: entirely TTRPGs this time, sorry Daud. played more Beam Saber as usual, and also Breakup on Re-Entry and Tidepools, two-person games about the dramatic irony of having a mech fight with your partner without knowing their identity and about mermaid-human romance, respectively

making: Zan made bread from scratch and I turned it into garlic bread, I didn’t take any pictures because I forgot but trust me it was tasty

writing: nothing posted but Zan and I are co-writing a vampire AU because we are nothing if not on our bullshit at all times. we finished the outline yesterday and it’s 22 pages so uh. that’s sure happening. most of my writing recently has been for zines which I’m not allowed to share yet but when I can I will be insufferable about so. you have been warned

#dreaming.txt #tuesday no problem extended universe

[thornedrose44]

Supercorp prompt-

Lena takes an art class to de-stress and Kara is the nude model. Awkward semi- naked flirting ensues.

(A/N: So, I put my own twist on this (hope that’s okay), I made Lena a teacher just because I liked the idea of Lena having to keep her lack of chill under control and be professional in front of a class funny - though this fic went down just a really light, fluffy route which I hadn’t expected when I started it.)

Read on AO3

It had been going well, the first term had passed with only a few missteps and one trip to the emergency room - though, the Dean had told her that Zach had yet to make it through a single class without some sort of accident and had been preemptively banned from taking Chemistry classes for fear of taking out an entire graduation class. 

Lena had never expected to return to her alma mater as a lecturer but the stars had aligned at just the right time. The youngest Luthor had reached a stage in her career where she had finally proven her adoptive mother wrong about not finding success as an artist and had made enough money that she need never paint another picture in her life again. The lack of necessity and the return to a more Luthor-esque lifestyle - galas, fancy balls and paid talks - had subsequently impacted her inspiration. She needed a change. A return to her roots and some sort of stability without losing her ability to make a personal impact with her work. 

Her mentor - J’onn - was stepping down from the art department and had recommended her as his replacement; National City University had jumped at the chance of the world renowned Lena Luthor taking up a teaching position there. 

She was now a third of the way through the school year, settled comfortably into her new role, and absolutely loving it. Her spark was back, and she was enjoying being in one place surrounded by her old friends. She was reconnecting with skills and techniques she hadn’t touched in years whilst simultaneously giving advice and encouragement to students that reminded her of herself when Lillian had cut her off to force her into attending business school and abandoning her dreams. She was finally able to return the kindness J’onn had given her all those years ago to the next generation of artists. 

It was the second term that Lena experienced her first set of real nerves. 

Lena had an artistic weak spot, an achilles heel that she had been able to keep out of her signature artistic style but she would now be forced to confront. 

Life drawing.

It had been her lowest scoring class by a mile and she had avoided the advanced elective classes like the plague. Lena knew practice made perfect but she’d never had enough interest to develop her skills. Her interest had always lied more in natural landscape beauty - J’onn had said her true inspiration lied with trying to recreate her childhood memories of Ireland: emerald rolling hills, rocky cliffs, dense forests ensconced by a mystical fog that lended her artwork a fantastical element that she was now known for.

The problem lied in Lena’s lack of interest in people. 

She had never really seen the ‘art’ in them.

Kelly, Sam and Andrea had spent hours over evening drinks psycho-analysing just why that might be, their two favourite theories were Lena’s family (the loss of her mother and the general unpleasantness of the Luthors) or Lena’s truly terrible dating history (their favourite topic of conversation due to the sheer number of embarrassing stories it elicited).

Lena refused to acknowledge the accuracy of both theories. 

It was therefore with a sense of dread that Lena prepared for the first Life Model Drawing class that Tuesday afternoon. The one small silver lining was that she didn’t need to arrange a model - she had vague memories of J’onn trying to entice volunteers and grumbling under his breath about some of the less than pleasant eager volunteers. J’onn had a list of regular volunteers that he had accrued over the years that were reliable and just liked to help out - most of them older with an appreciation for the arts and more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. The University admin team had organised everything and simply told her to expect a Kara Danvers at the studio some time before the class.

Lena had finished prepping the studio well in advance, reviewed the relevant techniques for most of the morning and even phoned J’onn for a much needed pep talk over lunch. She had just convinced herself that everything might be okay, that she just might be able to do this, when the most beautiful woman Lena had ever laid eyes on burst into the studio.

A toned body that glinted with a light sheen of sweat barely covered by a white v-neck tucked in at the front of a pair of dark jeans that merely brought all of Lena’s attention to the bronze belt buckle that locked away a thousand dirty thoughts. Glorious golden ringlet curls bounced up and down as the woman stumbled to a sudden stop as the most piercing blue eyes imaginable behind thick glasses locked with Lena’s green ones.

“Hi, I’m Kara!” The goddess announced, swallowing thickly and stumbling forward in her hefty black boots as she extended out a hand for Lena to take.

Lena only reached out due to years of Luthor training that had ingrained politeness into her muscle memory - her brain still not firing on all cylinders at the sight of the woman in front of her. Kara’s warm palm connected with Lena’s, long fingers curling gently yet firmly around the edge of her hand and sending arcs of lightning through Lena’s body and causing her breath to stutter. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long.” Kara continued, a bright apologetic smile lighting up her entire face and grinding whatever gears were still turning Lena’s mind to a dead - permanent - halt. “I try to always get here early to help set-up but the interview I was conducting overran - I’m a journalist, by the way - and then my bike - motorbike that is -” Lena’s mind caught on the motorbike and turned it round over and over and over again, “didn’t start and… I’m rambling. Oh, golly! I mean heck, I mean sorry.” Kara huffed, cheeks filling with air before releasing into an adorable pout. “Sorry.”

It was then that Lena realised two things.

One, it was her turn to say something and there had now been at least ten  prolonged seconds of silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

And two, they were still holding hands because that’s what it was now, it most definitely could not be considered a handshake.

“Umm… hi…” Lena choked out whilst simultaneously jerking her hand back to her side, hoping the somewhat stifling heat of the studio would hide the red blush perfusing her cheeks.  “Lena. I’m Lena, that is…”

“Hi.” Kara murmured, smiling soft and sweet at her causing Lena’s heart to flip and melt and dance and do a million impossible things all at once.

“Hi.” Lena repeated dumbly - so dumbly.

“I should…” Kara chuckled, hands miming grabbing the edge of her t-shirt and lifting it up, “You know?”

Oh, god the goddess is going to undress, Lena’s brain screamed in gay at herself.

“Yeah, definitely do that.” Lena encouraged with a flap of her hand towards the centre of the studio where a solitary illuminated stool awaited. “Do you need anything? Is the lighting okay? Stool… umm… sturdy?”

Kara grinned at her, blue eyes barely sparing a glance at the studio’s set-up, “Looks perfect.”

“Great.” Lena cheered, jerking her thumb over at her desk in the corner where she had prepped her teaching materials, “I’ll… uh… be over there.”

“And I’ll be right here.” Kara shot back with a cheeky wink as she walked over to the stool, a towel awaiting her to provide suitable covering until the class had settled, shucking her white shirt over her head and revealing back muscles that would star in Lena’s fantasies for the foreseeable future.

“Yep.” Lena popped, taking a deep breath and trying to work out if she should be murmuring a thank you to God or screaming a desperate why me.

***

The class had gone well - except for the long periods where her brain shutdown whenever she studied the play of shadows across Kara’s defined musculature. She managed to cover it quite well by making it seem like she was just assessing her students’ work closely, analysing their line work and shading rather than going through an extended gay crisis that eclipsed seeing boobs for the first time in college.

Kara, on the other hand, was a consummate professional, holding a steady pose throughout and utterly unfazed by the concentrated gazes on her - though, Lena could have sworn that she caught deep blue eyes tracking her movements round the half-circle every now and again. 

“So, you’re experienced doing this?” Lena asked, once the last student had departed and Kara was finishing re-tying her sturdy boots back up.

“Taking my clothes off?” Kara chuckled, shooting the teacher an amused smirk, getting to her feet and strolling easily over to where Lena was examining the product of her class’ efforts. 

Lena faltered, “I meant-”

“I’m just teasing.” Kara reassured, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s forearm in a half-apology that Lena could have sworn burnt Kara’s hand print into her skin, “I’ve done this for a while now. I did an interview with J’onn a few years ago and his model bailed at the last minute and I was here already and…” Kara shrugged casually like stepping in was the obvious thing to do, like kindness was the only option - which Lena didn’t doubt for a second was something Kara genuinely believed. “I like helping out where I can. And I just kept coming back…” Kara explained, clasping her hands behind her back as she took a tentative step closer to Lena, “I was never really sure why until-”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?” 

Lena’s head snapped round to see Andrea strolling through the doorway, eyes fixed on her phone utterly oblivious to the moment she had just trampled all over. Lena wasn’t sure whether Andrea was naturally such a good cockblock or if she practiced at it - regardless of either option Lena’s sexlife had vanished into thin air since she’d returned to living in the same city as Andrea. (Not that Lena thought that her and Kara were heading that way but Lena had been enjoying the hope of it at least).

“Andrea, you’re early for the first time in.... well, ever…” Lena snarked, rolling her eyes before glancing over to Kara, only to find the blonde had taken a large step away from her and her expression was far more neutral and guarded than it had been only moments before.

“Wait, we weren’t meeting at 4?” Andrea frowned, still not bothering to look up.

“Ah, so you’re not early, you’re over an hour late.” Lena remarked.

“God, you’re such a drama queen…” Andrea sighed, finally lifting her gaze from her phone, her eyes immediately alighting on Kara with undisguised interest. “And who is this?”

“Andrea, this is Kara the model for our life drawing classes.” Lena introduced taking a protective step in front of the blonde, an action that did not go unnoticed by the other two occupants in the room. “Kara, this is my supposed best friend who is regularly trying to lose that title.”

“Oh, best friend?” Kara repeated; the familiar brightness from before returning to her expression as she looked excitedly between the two friends.

“Yes.” Lena answered, smiling shyly at Kara and immediately forgetting Andrea’s existence, let alone presence in the room.

“That’s great.” Kara grinned, blushing a light pink a second later as her hands fidgeted with her keys, “I mean… ummm…. That you have a best friend. My sister is my best friend, though I have other friends. I just mean that… friends are cool.” 

Lena laughed lightly at Kara’s ramble, leaning closer towards the blonde without realising until Andrea appeared at her shoulder looking far too pleased with herself.

“Kara,” Andrea greeted, holding out a hand for the blonde to shake (Lena was comforted to see their handshake was quick, almost professional in comparison to the lingering touch Kara and Lena had shared earlier). “The pleasure is all mine.” Andrea declared, winking surreptitiously at the teacher - Lena instantly dreaded the upcoming girl’s night.

“Nice to meet you.” Kara replied friendly and sincere, before smiling softly at Lena and muttering a hopeful, “I’ll see you next week?” 

“I’ll be here.” Lena reassured, watching as Kara nodded farewell to Andrea and departed, waving on her way out.

“Well…” Andrea murmured mischievously.

“Don’t.” Lena said sharply, holding up a finger to deter whatever torment Andrea had brewing. “Not a word. Not a single word.”

“Ooookay.” Andrea lied.

***

“You okay?” Lena asked tentatively, watching as Kara sluggishly slung her bag over her shoulder the pep to her step nowhere near as present as it had been last week. 

They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the class even though Kara arrived much earlier to help set-up - Lena had been helping a student struggling with deadlines and a sudden crisis of confidence which prevented them from interacting. Despite being occupied, Lena had seen the fatigue weighing heavily on the reporter, saw how her impeccable posture dropped and how her students added weary lines to her expression in their artwork. 

“I think you fell asleep on that stool for ten minutes at some point.” Lena murmured, brow creasing in concern.

“Pfft… what?” Kara reassured with a light-hearted wave of her hand. “Impossible.”

Lena arched an unimpressed eyebrow, “You snore. Quite loudly.”

“Oh…” Kara pouted guiltily, rubbing at the back of her neck, “My sister is going through a rough patch and I stayed up late with her last night.”

Lena’s amusement drained away to be replaced with soft, supportive care, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s doing better.” Kara replied, blue eyes twinkling at Lena’s inquiry that had them both ducking their heads coyly and sharing furtive glances. “I should get going.” Kara coughed out, though she made no move to leave.

“Or…” Lena began hesitantly, heart fluttering in her chest, “we could go for coffee? You should probably have a coffee before driving,” Lena rationalised, nervously stepping back from the blatant romantic line she was toeing, “you know for safety…”

“For safety.” Kara repeated carefully, blue eyes glowing with warmth, “That sounds wonderful.”

***

It didn’t take them long at all to settle into a comfortable routine.

Kara came early to the life model classes, helping set-up the room as they talked about the students' progress and what Lena was going to make the focus of the class. During the class itself, Lena no longer needed to flit as regularly between her students, they had learned the basic techniques enough to practise for themselves, now only requiring light guidance which allowed Lena time to either do some marking or her own art. Kara posed perfectly throughout, though Lena was becoming more and more aware of Kara’s still gaze on her as the weeks passed by. 

After class, it was now custom for them to grab a coffee and go for a long walk around the university campus as they talked about everything and nothing. They would have been building towards a strong friendship if it wasn’t for the lingering touches, blatant flirts, blushes and wandering gazes. 

Lena wasn’t overly sure why they hadn’t crossed that line, made that final move, but she found she didn’t particularly mind the wait. She was convinced that they had both decided that the journey was making the destination all the more desirable.

It became abundantly apparent, though, that Kara thought differently if their conversation after the class midway through the term was anything to go by.

“So do you not like my body?” Kara asked, quick and fearful, eyes looking down at the sketch Lena had done during class of a vase of flowers in the corner rather than of the readily available model.

“What?” Lena muttered in disbelief looking up sharply from her desk to see Kara paling considerably having clearly not intended to ask the question that she had blurted out.

“I… uh…” Kara squeaked, mouth opening and closing rapidly, before lifting her bare wrist up with a jerky motion and whistling in exaggerated surprise, “Wow, look at the time. I’m late for… uh… this thing. Work thing. Interview! That’s a work thing.”

And just like that she was gone - Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a Kara shaped hole in the studio wall with how fast she disappeared - leaving Lena with a sinking, twisty feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she might have lost more than her regular coffee with Kara over that one interaction.

***

Lena had Kara’s phone number and they had taken to texting throughout the day; however, since Kara’s panicked question - which probably revealed some deep vulnerability in the blonde - there had been complete and total radio silence. No memes, no cute animal pics, no sweet check ins… Lena’s phone remained silent when it once vibrated with life. 

Lena wanted to text or call Kara the second she had left the studio but Lena didn’t feel like this was a conversation they could have over text, so she waited impatiently for them to be face to face again, counting down the days until the next class. 

Lena even took to repeatedly checking in with the admin office to confirm that Kara hadn’t pulled out of modelling; reaching the stage where Jess, the most senior admin in the team, had taken to emailing her every couple of hours to reassure her that Kara still hadn’t cancelled. 

When Kara appeared, nervously stepping into the art room, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, it was like Lena could finally breathe easy again. The fear and loss eeking away in an instant, giving Lena the necessary courage to stride forward and bare herself in a way that Kara had been doing every week without Lena fully realising.  

“I don’t like drawing people.” Lena announced, shoving her hands into her pockets to resist the temptation to reach out to the other woman as the blonde blinked at her in surprise, listening intently. “It’s kind of a thing with me.” Lena winced, pushing down all the reasons for why that is. “When I draw something I… kind of let whatever it is into me, let it consume me and it… stays with me for a long time after that. It’s why I draw what I draw. I draw my home because it's a part of me already. Drawing someone means carrying them with me and… that’s scary for me.” Lena breathed, glancing at the blonde to see soft understanding in blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know it’s not you.”

Kara nodded, shuffling closer and dipping her head so that she could whisper into the still space between them, “Thank you.” 

“Right,” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “I should-”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Kara inquired earnestly causing Lena to freeze in hopeful surprise. “After class, that is?”

“Um… Yes.” Lena replied, nodding her head eagerly.

“Awesome.” Kara grinned brightly.

***

Kara took her to a tucked away italian restaurant that was one of National City’s hidden gems. The food was outstanding and the company was even better.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t just friends going out for dinner either. 

Lena would call it a test-run but that would imply that Lena wasn't already one hundred percent certain that she wanted an actual date with Kara. It was more of a date-appetiser if Lena was going to call it anything, a taste to build interest before the real thing. 

Once they had finished their food, Kara didn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers as they went for an evening stroll around a nearby park, both wishing to prolong their time together.

“Can I see your art?” Kara requested; they had been sitting on a bench in front of a lit-up fountain for the last twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Lena had expressed an interest in sketching the fountain and Kara hadn’t hesitated to find them a seat and encourage Lena’s desire without complaint, occupying herself with people-watching in the meantime. 

“I’m pretty sure the images are all over the internet.” Lena replied drolly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Lena’s pencil froze in it’s movements finally noticing how hard Kara was trying to act casual, “what you said about it being a part of you, I thought-”

“You want me to show it to you…” Lena inferred, setting her pencil down and closing her handy sketchbook in an instant. 

“It’s stupid, I’ll-” Kara laughed awkwardly, shaking her head in an attempt to brush over the request like it wasn’t a big deal

“I don’t have many pieces here in National City,” Lena said thoughtfully, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Kara, “but I have some works in progress that I can show you… if you want that is?”  

“I would love that.” Kara beamed, jumping to her feet as Lena tugged her back towards her campus studio, already picking out her favourite pieces in her mind that she wanted to share with the blonde.

***

Lena and Kara’s ‘friendship’ continued to blossom into something neither could have anticipated that day Kara sprinted into the studio all those weeks ago. The weekly class they shared was now always followed by dinner, taking it in turns to share their favourite cuisines and restaurants. They had also grown beyond only seeing each other on their allotted class day, sharing lunches and movie nights and spontaneous coffees as they learned each other's schedule and needs. 

Lena read all of Kara’s articles and spent many an evening asking countless questions about the background to each of them. Likewise, Kara would appear for coffee with one of Lena’s artworks saved in her phone, burning with curiosity about what had inspired it.

Time spent with Kara flew by and, before Lena knew it, it was the final class prior to spring break. Her last class with Kara until the next school year and Lena was finally ready.

She had finally figured it out.

Why she had waited.

Why she had yet to seize the numerous opportunities to transition her relationship with Kara into a romantic one.

It was because she knew. 

She knew from the second that she had taken Kara’s hand in hers when they first met that this was it. That Kara was it.

And that was, and still is, terrifying. 

When they had first met, Lena hadn’t been ready for Kara. Hadn’t been ready for everything that Kara represented and would come to mean. She had needed the time, the time to lower her guard, to trust and hope. 

And now, she was ready and she knew exactly how to let Kara know.

The class came to an end with Lena giving her students a quick speech on how proud of their progress she was and wishing them a good spring break. Kara lingered behind as was now custom, helping Lena tidy up the area before they headed out together.  

“Kara?” Lena called out nervously, sweaty palms rubbing against her black denim covered thighs as her heart beat thunderously in her chest. “I was wondering…” Lena began, clearing her throat as Kara stopped what she was doing to give Lena her undivided attention. “Can I… can I draw you?”

Kara’s brow instantly furrowed in confusion, “I thought-”

“Yeah…” Lena laughed shyly, staring into deep blue eyes, practically begging for Kara to understand what she was really saying. “Can I?” Lena repeated.

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied Lena’s expression - it was then Lena realised that Kara understood exactly why they had been waiting. Kara wasn’t replying because she wanted to check that Lena was sure, was giving Lena a chance to delay, was saying - without really saying it - that she could wait longer.

Lena didn’t take the escape Kara offered, instead she lifted her head higher and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

A thousand-watt smile of excitement took up residence on Kara’s face as she nodded eagerly, “Of course.” 

“Clothes on.” Lena clarified - she had promised herself that the first time she truly studied Kara’s body it would be in a setting where touching would not break any professional standards. 

***

Lena had Kara sit opposite her in her private studio, their knees pressed tightly against one another providing a warm point of contact to keep them grounded. Lena’s gaze flickered from her sketchpad to Kara’s features; occasionally, she would reach out to adjust a lock of golden hair so it caught the light. Kara, meanwhile, had an ever constant soft smile that didn’t diminish for the entirety of the session even as she was forced to rein in her boundless curiosity to stop herself from sneaking a peek at Lena’s sketch until it was ready to be revealed.

Lena only drew Kara’s head because, though, she had spent countless hours in the presence of Kara’s naked body over the course of the last few weeks - when Lena thought of Kara (really thought about her in the way that made her heart skip), it wasn’t her abs or her biceps that Lena pictured (though she did think about them regularly when she was in her bed alone at night). 

It was Kara’s eyes that Lena thought about most. 

How they were so bright and hopeful whilst simultaneously melancholic and lost.

There were whole galaxies in those blue eyes and Lena knew that she could spend the rest of her life drawing them and never get bored, nor get them exactly right.

“What do you think?” Lena asked, slowly turning her sketchbook round for Kara to see.

It wasn’t finished. It was mere line work that would require further detailing but it was a good start and she hoped Kara could see its potential like she did with everything else in the world - like she did with Lena.

“It’s…” Kara began, licking her lips as she pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest like it was something treasured and infinitely rare. “It's incredible.” Kara breathed, the sincerity of her words undeniable due to how they were accompanied by a watery film to her blue eyes.

“I like your body.” Lena whispered, shattering the companionable silence they had drifted into as Kara admired Lena’s artistry.

“W-w-what?” Kara stammered, head jerking up at the out-of-the-blue declaration.

Lena reached out for the sketchbook, lifting it out of Kara’s hand and placing it on the nearby table so that she could take Kara’s hands in hers. 

“You asked if I liked your body a while ago,” Lena reminded the blonde, “and I just thought you should know that I do. I really, really do. I mean really.” Lena emphasised, glancing appreciatively down at Kara’s body prompting the blonde to blush a pleased pink. “But it's more than just that. It’s become more than that. Talking after class, getting coffee, going for dinner… it's the best part of my week. You’re the best part of my week.”

“Lena-” Kara began, her mouth suddenly snapping shut as her jaw clenched and her chin lifted in determination. Blue eyes studied Lena for a long moment and all Lena could do was hold her breath and wait. 

Lena made Kara wait weeks, she could therefore wait the stretched seconds that Kara needed in return without complaint

Kara got confidently to her feet, tugging Lena up with her, squeezing their hands once before releasing her so that she could reach up to tenderly cup Lena’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Kara declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank fu-” Lena sighed gratefully, cut off from offering up her thanks by Kara’s perfect lips sliding over hers.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp prompt

[hannigramficrecs]

there's a hannibal extended universe?! omg pls, it would be incredible if you could recommend any fics related to this. thank you so much!!

OMG yes. I’m actually thinking of starting a section of my index of just HEU fics! I currently have a Spacedogs tag— which is the ship of Hugh Dancy’s character from the movie Adam (2009) and Mads Mikkelsen’s character from Charlie Countryman (2013), but I was thinking of adding more from all the different universes I’ve read so far as well! Anyways, here are a couple of the more popular pairings to get you started!

Spacedogs:

Space Invader by Devereauxs_Disease [words: 28,512]

Nigel isn’t handling his divorce well. When a good Samaritan starts leaving him gifts on his balcony, Nigel gets suspicious. What could go wrong?

The Set Up by Devereauxs_Disease [words: 4,178]

Nigel decides if he can’t have Adam, someone great should. So he plays wingman for his friend/secret crush and sets Adam up on a date with a gorgeous woman. What could possibly go wrong? OR—The fic where Beverly Katz learns to see the fun in blind dates.

Beth Finds Out by victorine for Devereauxs_Disease [words: 3,160]

Beth doesn’t want to date Adam. She doesn’t really want to date Nigel either, but he’ll work as a temporary measure to discourage Adam. Of course, she’s not expecting the two of them to hit it off…

Marbles by Llewcie [words: 5,561]

Adam moves to a new neighborhood and promptly loses a prized possession to the neighborhood bully. But when the tables are turned, Adam extracts a promise from Nigel that will follow them through the years. The friendship that develops as a result will end up meaning more to them than they ever could have anticipated.

Pochemuchka by slashyrogue [words: 1,441]

Alpha Nigel gets roped into taking the empty bartender spot on Omega Speed Dating Night where he happens to meet a certain blue eyed omega.

I Was Still Blind, But Twinkling Stars Did Dance by DarkmoonSigel [words: 12,010]

Beth sets Adam up on a blind date. Sex happens.

King Arthur (2004) — which Mads and Hugh both starred in!

To the Place I Belong by halotolerant [words: 14,823]

“I am going to have to see you eventually, Galahad,” Tristan pointed out. “Or else undertake this mission blindfolded.” Abruptly, the door in front of him was flung open. He had to fight not to take a reflexive step backwards. “If you even begin to laugh…” Galahad threatened, hissing. Tristan surveyed the sight of him. No, he still didn’t feel like laughing at all.

Over the Mountains and Under the Stars by starkaryen [words: 19,397]

Galahad wasn’t a fool. He knew perfectly well that the feelings he had harbored for Tristan for some time now would never be requited. But Tristan had never joined the knights’ jokes about this particular matter, and he had always inwardly thanked him for that…

Not-So-Innocent by QueenofLit [words: 1,238]

Tristan had been warned off Gawain's little brother quite violently. In fact, he wasn't allowed to so much as see the younger man until Gawain was certain he wouldn't try to seduce him. As a brunette angel serves Tristan's coffee with promises of sweeter things to come, the universe proves how monumentally bad that decision was.

The Tale of Sir Galahad and the Ridiculous Chicken by Devereauxs_Disease [words: 4,928]

Tristan's hawk takes a sudden interest in Galahad, stealing his things whenever Galahad isn't looking. Tristan is unhelpful at solving this problem. Fluff and crack in the time of chain-mail.

Courtship by Chifuyu [words: 2,837]

Galahad can't stand Tristan. Tristan can't stand Galahad. Everybody else is pretty much done with their antics.

Alphabet by cognomen [words: 2,392]

"I don't know how to get through to him, Gawain," he laments. It is pointless to protest - they have been brothers in arms long enough to read each other this well at least. "Have you tried getting in his tent and arranging yourself naked on his bedroll?" Gawain suggests outlandishly, but Galahad is willing to consider even such a dramatic gesture.

Late Bloom by victorine [words: 4,318]

Galahad and Tristan are constantly arguing. The other knights are done. There's only one way to sort this... FIGHT!

Skirts by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite [words: 3,702]

Come nightfall, the boy’s stance had developed a bit of a falter, but he had no complaints. He sat by the fire, one knee drawn up, and Tristan knew that if he shifted just an inch, he’d flash the lot of them. Something had to be done. Otherwise, the skirt would be nothing more than a belt by morning.

Blood Red Apples by kipsi [words: 1,032]

He had always been secretly jealous of how Tristan handled his knife, his movements precise and steady.

A Bride's Price by Devereauxs_Disease [words: 5,930]

Galahad doesn't know how to woo Tristan, so he asks for advice from the knights. All of their advice is terrible. Please don't ever ask these idiots for advice.

Bondless by Llewcie [words: 9,305]

Galahad runs an Omega club with the best security on the eastern seaboard. Tuesday nights are Alpha Night, where alphas can pay dearly for the privilege of buying an omega a drink. Tristan is willing to pay just to look on Galahad from behind the glass security wall. Galahad is pretty sure he wants more.

Hugh’s character from Ella Enchanted (2004) and Mads’ character from Vallhalla Rising (2009)

 Found You by Kateera [words: 5,151]

Prince Charmont was born without a soul mark and hidden from his kingdom to keep the shame a secret. When his parents send him away on a diplomatic mission, he's forced to watch a man fight for his life and is inexplicably drawn to the silent warrior. He has to meet him.

Trope: From Sex To Love (Valhalla Enchanted) by TigerPrawn [words: 14,355]

In a land where alphas and omegas are rare, the omega prince Charmont is in need of an alpha to see him through heat until his betrothed arrives from a distant kingdom. The recently freed slave one-eyed mute is just hideous enough to be the perfect temporary alpha to service the prince. Falling in love is the last thing anyone wants.

Trope: College AU (Valhalla Enchanted - Modern AU) by TigerPrawn [words: 9,186]

When Char mistakes an alpha’s true appearance for a costume he means to apologize, but ends up doing much more than that!

Blood on Steel by MonstrousRegiment [words: 9,488]

Inside was—a man. Something like a man. There was a shackle around his neck, like a dog’s collar, and the heavy chain it was affixed to run through a thick ring hammered into the wall, and then to a strong-looking anchoring post several feet away, well out of reach of the cage.

Forgemaster by Llewcie [words: 11,946]

Charmont, the newest Dionysus, loses a bet to his roommate Aphrodite, and is required by her to go on three dates with a god of her choosing. Before he even gets out the door, he scathingly insults the gentle, mute Hephaestus, and then must scramble to make amends. Char is not prepared when it's the gentle, one-eyed Forgemaster that refuses to take HIM to bed.

Hel by Llewcie [words: 4,285]

On a road trip to find something he has been missing, Char's car breaks down and leaves him in a quiet suburb of Chicago, with only a seedy hostel and a strange little pub open late at night. Forgoing soiled mattresses for a late drink, he encounters a bartender who doesn't speak but pours a mean pint of mead. Its a better place to lay his head than he thought he would get.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram fanfiction #spacedogs #heu #heu fanfiction #heu fanfic #hannibal fic recs #hannigram fic recs #spacedogs fanfic #nbc hannibal #hannibal tv #will x hannibal #replies

[womenstan]

I See You When You Run From The Light (within your eyes) - Chapter 3

Ao3 Title : The end of the line Chapter :

When he woke up, the first thing Robbe felt was warmth. It was all-enveloping, seeping through his every muscle. He felt so relaxed and at peace that he found himself wishing he’d never have to get out of bed. Just lay there forever wrapped up in the covers that were hugging him close. He snuggled a little deeper, trying to get a hold of the covers to bring them closer to his body, only to lay his hand on something far too hard to be silk.

Robbe’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he tried patting the surface, trying to understand what was thrown over his stomach, but feeling far too lazy to open up his eyes and be attacked by the sun rays.

“Why are you feeling up my arm?” A voice chuckled, deep, next to his ear.

Robbe startled, opening both his eyes at once, only to lay his eyes on the blonde body next to him. Sander, of course . He’d forgotten they’d both gone back to his place after the party last night, Sander insisting until Robbe caved under his adorable mimics.

Laughing, Robbe switched to softly caressing Sander’s arms, making him smile softly. “Royal secret. If I told you, they’d have to kill you.” He said, trying to sound serious, but ending up barely containing his laughter.

Sander snorted, playing along. “They? Do you have body guards then?”

“Oh yes, only the best ones in the whole country. From the King’s own personal army!”

Sander smirked, in that way that told you he was about to crack a joke he was particularly proud of. He lifted his hand up, bringing it on Robbe’s biceps, “Good, there’s no way you’d be able to defend yourself with such small arms anyways.”

Robbe scoffed indignantly, swatting Sander’s hand away. “Me? Small arms? I’ll show you small arms”, Robbe said, before launching himself on top of Sander, trying to immobilize him. Sander laughed, pushing back. They kept pushing at each other for a while until Robbe decided to show off a little.

In one swift motion, he got one leg over Sander’s hips, effectively straddling him and preventing him from moving away. Sander let out a small gasp of surprise and Robbe used that momentary confusion as an opportunity to grab both his wrists and pin them down to the mattress.

Chest heaving, Robbe smiled, lowering himself over Sander, pressing his arms further into the covers. Sander was panting too, even more so than Robbe was.

“Still think I’m too weak to defend myself?” Robbe teased, proudly.

While Robbe had been expecting more teasing, Sander’s face softened and he relaxed his body under Robbe’s. “I think you’re perfect.”

The fondness in Sander’s voice took Robbe by surprise and, for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. If it’d been anyone else… but it wasn’t. This was Sander and he was like this, always affectionate and saying things like this without realizing what they sounded like.

So, Robbe laughed, brushing the remark aside with a soft ‘idiot’, which only made Sander’s smile widden. He rolled off of him, laying back on the bed and sighing deeply.

“I don’t want to get up, like, ever.” Turning his head towards Sander, he added, “Can we just stay here forever?”

Much to Robbe’s confusion, Sander shook his head. “No way”

Getting up on one elbow and turning his whole body towards Sander, Robbe asked, “What? Why not?”

Sander didn’t answer at first, throwing his feet off the bed and onto the floor. He got up and turned towards Robbe expectantly.  When he didn’t hear any sound coming from Robbe, Sander threw his hands up in exasperation, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“ Because , Robin, I’m going to make you the best breakfast you’ve ever had”

Robbe hesitated, chuckling slightly in case it’d been a joke, but Sander seemed dead serious, extending an arm towards Robbe.

“Allez, come”

Robbe sighed, putting his hand in Sander’s and letting himself be tugged up. “Sander…”

Robbe’s whining didn’t deter Sander however, as he led them to the kitchen.

“Ok, get me a pan, some bread and, hm… Ah! Cheese” Sander said, dropping Robbe’s hand in favour of feeling around on the counter to find the stove.

Robbe squinted his eyes at him, slightly worried this wasn’t going to end well. “Sander… Can you even… Like, since you can’t…?”

Sander turned towards Robbe. “Since I can’t see? I’m twenty years old, Robbe, I’ve used a stove before. Don’t worry, just get me the ingredients, you’ll see.”

Still uncertain, Robbe walked slowly towards the cabinets, bringing one over to Sander.

“Ok, I’m going to trust you Sander, but if you burn down the apartment, I’m telling Milan it was your fault” Robbe added, only half-jokingly.

Sander waved him off, before starting the stove.

After a while, Robbe caught onto what Sander was making him.

“Croques? Really? Is that even breakfast food?”

Sander tutted him disapprovingly. “Robbe, everything can be breakfast food if you eat it at breakfast.”

“I don’t think that’s how this works Sander, but whatever you say…” Robbe teased, sitting up on the counter next to where Sander was cooking.

Sander sighed, reaching for a knife and cutting the first croque in half. He took it in his left hand, reaching it out to Robbe. “Stop complaining and try this”

“I’m not even com-” Robbe began, before being interrupted by Sander quite literally shoving the croque into his mouth. He made a noise of complaint, but bit into it anyway, determined to scold Sander immediately after.

Only, as soon as he began to chew, Robbe felt his taste buds explode with joy. The flavour was perfect, the crispiness impeccable, every single bite into the food felt like a whole experience of its own. Robbe couldn’t help but let out a very satisfied hum, making Sander’s face beam with pride.

“Good, right?” He said, clearly already aware of the answer.

Robbe finished swallowing his bite before he answered, sounding bewildered. “Good? Sander, I’m convinced this is the best croque ever made”

Sander blushed a little under the compliment, dipping his head downwards. “I mean, I told you I wasn’t going to fuck this up”

Robbe smiled, extending his arm to ruffle Sander’s hair fondly. “I know, I’m sorry for doubting you. My mind is truly blown right now. I’m going to force you to come over every day to make me breakfast from now on”

Sander only raised his head, softly letting out a “Anytime”.

----------------------------------------

The rest of his weekend passed by in a happy blur, his time spent between joking around with Sander and catching up on his homework. But, as all things do, monday eventually came around the corner, and with it came university.

In all fairness, this time, something else was exceeding his dread of having to go to class: the thought of seeing Noor.

She’d been texting him all weekend, but he’d managed to ignore her easily enough by staying busy. In school though, it would be a lot harder to avoid her.

The worst thing was that he knew he’d promised Sander he would break up with Noor. And it made sense: all they did lately was argue and get mad at each other. So, the problem wasn’t that Robbe didn’t think they should break up, but rather that he would do literally anything to avoid confrontation.

He hated it more than anything else. He didn’t want to hurt Noor, although he supposed ignoring all of her messages and calls was probably also hurting her. If he’d listen to himself, he would simply fire her a breakup text to get it over with, but he wasn’t that shitty.

So, while he was trying to gather the courage to walk up to her and get this over with, his plan was to avoid seeing her at all cost. The good thing about them being together for a while was that he pretty much knew her schedule by now, so he could try to take alternate paths to his classes or hang-out in different spots during his breaks.

It wasn’t exactly convenient, but it wouldn’t be for long anyway. Robbe was going to break up with Noor soon enough and then everything would go back to usual. Or, well, almost everything.

At least, that’s what he told himself Monday, as he had to take a five minutes long detour to get to his first class just so he wouldn’t run into Noor, who had a class next to him.

Coincidentally, it’s also what he told himself Tuesday. He was going to hang out with the guys in the cafeteria for lunch, as they had a common break. Only, as he’d made his way towards the cafeteria, he’d seen Noor exiting the girl’s bathroom and walking in the same direction. He’d quickly fired a text to the boys with a dumb excuse about having forgotten a textbook at home and ran the other way. He ate outside.

On Wednesday, Robbe had been determined to do it. He’d even drafted a little ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech the night before. So, he was ready, right? Except, he’d barely made two steps in Noor’s direction before he was stopped by Yasmina who needed him now , and ‘ no, Robbe, it can’t wait ’.

Turns out one of her friends was into Aaron - which, really? Aaron? - and they needed Robbe to subtly figure out if Aaron could be interested too.

“Yasmina, it’s Aaron . As long as she’s got two eyes and a heartbeat, I’m pretty sure he’ll be up for it.” Robbe sighed, trying not to appear as aggravated as he was. Seriously, did she need to have such a shit timing?

That led him to Thursday, at which point Robbe was almost convinced the universe was against this break up. He’d waited for her before his first class, but to no avail, as she didn’t even show up.

They had one break in common that day, around 1pm, but Thursday afternoons were reserved to hang out with Sander, and Robbe was not about to cancel on him just so he could break up with Noor. So, Robbe decided it would have to wait until friday, as he threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the library where he knew Sander was waiting.

Robbe stopped at the tiny student coffee shop on his campus, ordering for both Sander and him. While he waited in line, he quickly shot Sander a text message to let him know he was done with his class and on his way to him, smiling dumbly at Sander’s answering ‘:D’.

He’d been so busy between school, first trying to avoid Noor, and then trying to find her, that he’d barely had time to text Sander since the weekend, let alone see him. He was glad they could still honour their Thursday tradition, just the two of them hanging out without having to worry about anything - or anyone - else.

The barista handed Robbe the two cups and Robbe hurried to the table where he knew Sander would already be sitting, all of his books and material spread over the table. Sander would probably be hunched over some paper, drawing, that concentrated look on his face. He would slightly stick his tongue out, sitting in between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed and his hair falling in front of his face. Robbe had to admit it was quite the sight.

At first, Robbe had wondered how Sander could be an artist, seeing as he was blind. He’d always just assumed blind people had no way to draw, since they couldn’t see the paper, the colours or the drawing itself. Sander had simply snorted at that, before patiently explaining his method to Robbe.

He used mostly textured art, like pastel or paint. He’d draw with one hand, alternating between tracing the surface of whatever he wanted drawn and the surface of the paper with the other one. Robbe’s curiosity had pushed him to ask for a demonstration, and Sander had gladly obliged.

It was a fascinating process, and the respect and appreciation Robbe already had for Sander’s talent grew tenfold in the space of a single drawing. He’d just looked at Sander, moving seamlessly across the paper and found himself speechless. The only thought that came to him was that Sander was clearly in his element, that he belonged to the arts.

Still now, every time he’d had the privilege of catching Sander drawing, he’d been overwhelmed with this feeling of pride and warmth, watching entire worlds take form on the blank pages under Sander’s touch.

Sometimes, Robbe found himself thinking that Sander had the ability to make everything he touched turn into art. From the dull beige paper cup of coffee that could rival Albert Anker’s Coffee Drinking once it was held in between Sander’s fingers, to Robbe’s own pale skin that shined bright pink under Sander’s soft strokes.

Or the way he was stroking his hand through his hair right as Robbe walked up to him, pulling it back off of his forehead. That was true art.

Robbe shook the thought out of his head as he scraped back the chair next to Sander and sat down, slowly pushing Sander’s coffee to his hand.

“Robin! Finally!” Sander exclaimed enthusiastically, making Robbe chuckle.

“Missed me?” Robbe teased, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Obviously,” Sander answered, sending him a beaming smile

Robbe laughed, getting his books out of his bag and carefully placing them next to Sander’s stuff on the table.

“What are you drawing?” He asked Sander, trying to peek into his open sketchbook.

Sander smirked, closing his sketchbook before Robbe could properly distinguish the shapes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, huh?” He teased, making Robbe drop his head to the side in fond exasperation.

“Yes,” Robbe sighed, “I would like to.” He tried to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t help the smile slowly etching its way up his face.

“How badly?” Sander asked, his growing smile indicating he had a joke ready to go.

Robbe rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. “As bad as-”

“Robbe fucking Izjermans!”

Oh . Oh no .

Robbe whipped his head towards the voice, while Sander visibly startled on his chair, dropping his smile instantly.

Robbe mentally groaned when he saw he’d been right about who this voice belonged to. From the library’s entrance, Noor was storming his way, a visible scowl on her face.

Why was it that when Robbe was trying to find her, she was nowhere to be found, but as soon as he’d wanted a moment of peace, she suddenly showed up? What had Robbe done to get such bad karma?

“Noor,” Robbe sighed, “What are you doing here?”

Noor raised an eyebrow, coming to a halt in front of Robbe, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“What do you think I’m doing here? You’ve been ignoring all of my texts and I couldn’t find you anywhere!” Noor half-screamed, earning them a few dirty looks from nearby students.

Before Robbe could answer, Sander scoffed loudly.

“What? You got a problem?” Noor asked him, clearly offended by his reaction.

Sander sighed, bracing himself on the table as he got up to properly face Noor.

“Look, I get that you’re pissed, but Robbe dumped you. He doesn’t owe you anything.” Sander said, keeping his voice levelled, although Robbe could hear the hidden layer of frustration.

It took Robbe’s brain a few seconds to properly realize what Sander had just said, and when he did, it was already too late.

Noor made a surprised noise in the back of her throat, halfway through anger and disbelief.

“Dumped me? What the hell are you talking about?” Noor said, chuckling humourlessly. “Don’t mistake your dreams for reality, Anders.”

Robbe stood up at once, feeling all the blood drain from his face.

“Noor, come on, let’s talk in private.”

Robbe made a move to step towards Noor, but Sander’s arm shot up in front of him, barely missing his face by a few centimeters.

“Robbe didn’t break up with you?” Sander asked, turned in the general direction Noor was in.

Robbe didn’t know what hurt more, the anger in Sander’s voice or the look of pure disappointment on his face.

“Sander, look,” Robbe began, desperately trying to diffuse the whole situation.

Noor’s laugh cut him off, loud and obnoxious, clearly meant to irritate Sander. It seemed to work wonders, as Sander’s jaw clenched in response.

“I don’t know what kind of fucked up fantasies you’ve got going on in your head, Sander, but this is the real world. I guess you might be too crazy to understand what that is.” Noor spit out.

The words hit Sander the same way a punch would have. He stumbled a little backwards, dropping his arm. He turned around, hastily threw all of his stuff inside his bag in a jumble, picked his bag up and walked away without a word.

“Sander!” Robbe yelled, cringing at the desperation he could hear in his own voice. “Sander, wait!”

Robbe started putting his papers back into his own bag, determined to run after Sander, but Noor’s fingers settled around his arm, pulling him back softly.

“Come on, Robbe. Let him be, he’s not good for you anyway.” Noor said, smiling as if Robbe’s world wasn’t falling apart in front of him.

Robbe gave a sharp tug on his arm, freeing himself from Noor’s hold. He shook his head at her, feeling rage boiling up inside of him and threatening to overflow.

“You know what, Noor? We’re through. Over, done, finished!” Robbe yelled, too angry to find it in himself to care that the entire library was witness to their spectacle.

Robbe threw his bag over his shoulder and stormed towards the entrance, where Sander’s back had disappeared barely a few seconds ago.

“What the fuck, Robbe? Do you not love me anymore?” Noor asked, her voice high-pitched and frail.

Robbe sighed, turning back around to face her one last time.

“You’re cruel, Noor. You’re just cruel.” He said, voice tired.

He didn’t wait around to hear her try to convince him he was wrong and that Sander had somehow manipulated him, instead choosing to take off after Sander.

Robbe’s heart was beating so fast that he feared it might fly straight out of his chest. His mind was immediately going to the worst scenarios, telling him Sander would never forgive him, that it was over, that there was no point going after him... But Robbe knew better than that.

He knew that Sander was probably the best thing in his life right now and that he wasn’t going to let him walk away.

So, out he ran, the heavy library doors shutting behind him with a loud ‘thump’ .

Robbe looked around frantically, trying to spot a patch of blond hair in the sparse crowd of students, but to no avail. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging a little at the strands in frustration.

That’s when he heard a loud crash coming from the boys’ washroom, and something clicked inside his head. He ran towards the room, which warranted him a couple side-looks, but his attention was focused on one sole thing: getting to Sander.

Inside, there didn’t appear to be anyone. All the stalls seemed closed, and the general area was empty. As Robbe stepped further in, he heard a small sniffling sound that broke his heart at once.

He put his bag down against the wall and walked along the stalls, softly pushing the doors open. When he reached the third to last one of the row, the door didn’t open, locked from the inside.

Robbe sighed softly. “Sander?”

The sniffling stopped.

“Sander, please. I just want to explain.”

Nothing but silence.

Robbe leaned his forehead on the door with a small thud.

“I’m sorry, Sander. I really am. I… I should have told you,” Robbe began, unsuccessfully trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I did mean to break up with her.”

A scof came from the stall, turning into a sob halfway through, and Robbe wondered if there was any piece of his heart left to shatter.

“Sander…” Robbe whispered, worry seeping through his tone. “I’m not lying. I spent the week looking for her too. I couldn’t do it over text, that’s just… I’m not an asshole. Or, trying not to be.” Robbe explains, “I broke up with her just now. What she said to you…” Letting out a frustrated sigh, Robbe shakes his head at the memory. “She’s so horrible. I’m so sorry Sander”

“Don’t be.” Sander’s voice came from the stall, muffled. “She’s right,” He laughed, but it was a bitter sound.

“Sander, no. She isn’t.” Robbe said, a little destabilized at Sander’s sudden lack of self-confidence.

He heard Sander breathe in deeply inside the stall, and Robbe prepared himself for the worst.

“I’m fucking crazy, Robbe, ok? I’m bipolar.” Sander yelled, but he didn’t sound angry. All Robbe could hear was pain, and fear. Just so much fear. “So, yeah, she’s right. She’s right and you should probably go before I fuck up your life too.”

The silence that hung between them after Sander’s declaration was heavy. Robbe felt suffocated under the weight, and he could only begin to try to imagine how Sander was feeling.

“Sander,” He said, keeping his voice low but firm. “Let me in.”

Time stood still as Robbe waited for Sander to make a decision. Seconds passed by, maybe even minutes, Robbe wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, forehead against the door.

Slowly, he stepped back, prepared to argue his way into the stall, when he heard the lock slide open. The door didn’t budge, but Robbe wasn’t mistaken. This was Sander’s way of letting him in, both literally and figuratively.

Robbe took a deep breath, slowly pushing the door open. Sander was leaning on the opposite wall, head hung low and turned away from Robbe, in an attempt to hide his distress.

Robbe slowly closed the door behind him, locking it, before turning back to Sander. The stall wasn’t big and with the two of them, the space was definitely cramped. Robbe took that to his advantage, merely raising his arms to be able to graze Sander’s shoulders.

Sander stiffened, but didn’t move away. Robbe took that as an encouragement and, little by little, wrapped his arms around Sander’s now-trembling form. As soon as Sander’s chest collided with Robbe’s, Robbe felt Sander’s entire body give up on him.

Sander hid his face in Robbe’s shoulder, body limp in Robbe’s arms. As for Robbe, he had one arm caressing Sander’s back in large, circular motions, while the other was stroking his hair softly. He could feel Sander shake through his sobs, but Robbe ignored the urge to make him stop crying.

Sander needed to let it out, and Robbe would be there for him, even if it killed him to see Sander suffering.

Robbe whispered a steady stream of ‘it’s ok’, ‘I’m here’ and ‘let it out’ into Sander’s ear, and slowly but surely, Sander relaxed against him and his sobbing subdued.

When Robbe felt like Sander had calmed back down, he took his chance.

“Sander, you’re not crazy.” Robbe started, making Sander snort humorlessly. “You’re not. Having bipolar doesn’t make you crazy, Sander. And it’s definitely not going to make me go away.”

Robbe tugged Sander back, just enough to look at him as he said, “You’re not some kind of monster, Sander, and you sure as hell aren’t ruining my life. You’re like, the best person in my life right now.”

Sander’s eyes glistened with tears that threatened to fall, but the corner of his lips lifted up a little at that.

“I don’t care what happened between you and Britt, and I care even less about what Noor thinks of you. I know you, and I know that you’re an amazing, caring and talented person that I want in my life for as long as you want to be.” Robbe said, all at once, like the words were spilling out of his mouth the same way Sander’s tears were spilling out of his eyes. Out of his control, filled to the brim with emotions, but, oh, so liberating.

Sander stayed silent, a thunderstorm of emotions hidden in the quiet. Robbe was suddenly glad Sander couldn’t see him, because he was pretty sure his face looked like an open book, and he wasn’t ready to confront what was written on it yet.

He didn’t know why exactly, couldn’t pinpoint what it was about this moment specifically, about Sander’s stare, but it felt like something had shifted between them. Like there would be a before this, and an after this.

Robbe smiled at Sander, stroking his hair one last time before unwrapping his arms from around him.

Sander laughed, wiping at his wet cheeks in embarrassment. “I can’t believe we had this conversation in the school’s bathroom.”

Robbe chuckled, shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sander. I have all of my heart-to-hearts in school bathrooms!”

Sander raised an eyebrow, a teasing look on his face. “The empty paper toilet dispensers and the vague urine smells really do it for you, huh?”

Robbe tried to suppress his smile, keeping his tone serious. “Oh, yeah. Big time!”

Sander wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Robbe responded by giving him a light push on the arm. They made their way out of the washroom, while Robbe avoided the stares of curious students wondering what all the fuss had been about (and probably questioning the tear streaks on both of their faces…).

When they reached the front doors, Robbe hesitated a moment, holding Sander back with a hand to his forearm. Sander stopped, turning back in Robbe’s direction.

“Do you maybe wanna go hang out at my flat?” Robbe asked, cringing at how fast his heartbeat had gotten at the simple sentence. He never got anxious when he asked the boys to hang around, although he hadn’t done so in a long time. So, why was it that whenever he had to ask Sander to hang out, Robbe’s hands got clammy and his heartbeat increased tenfold?

Sander just snorted in response, which only served to make Robbe even more apprehensive.

“You scared me! Of course, I do.” Sander said, now smiling brightly at Robbe.

Robbe wanted to be a little mad at Sander making fun of his hesitation, but he couldn’t help but beam in response, a comfortable warmth settling in his stomach.

They walked to the flatshare, arms locked at the crook of their elbows (if anyone asked, Robbe would say it was to guide Sander, despite them both knowing that Sander didn’t actually need it).

It was a sunny day, and it would have been too warm for Sander’s leather jacket had there not been a chilly breeze flowing through the air. Robbe wasn’t much of a fan of warm days, but when he saw the way the sunlight hit Sander’s face, perfectly illuminating his side profile of a golden hue, he figured he’d like them a lot more from now on.

Robbe couldn’t make himself look away from Sander’s face, intoxicated by the way it looked under the daylight. From the curve of his nose, to the way his eyes glistened, everything about Sander’s face had Robbe in a trance-like state.

He did eventually turn away, after he’d stumbled over a crack in the pavement and Sander had made fun of him, asking ‘who’s the blind one, huh?’ Sander had only been teasing, but Robbe figured it might be smarter for them to have at least a pair of eyes on the road.

Once they reached the apartment, Robbe didn’t even have to unlock the door to know that everyone was home. The sounds of cheers and laughter came through the door and resonated all the way to the staircase, warming Robbe’s heart instantly.

He barely had time to open the door and usher Sander in, before he was attacked by a swarm of bodies.

“Milan, you’re kind of crushing me” Robbe croaked out, the strength of Milan’s hug pressing all of his internal organs together painfully.

Milan loosened his arms immediately and stepped back, an apologetic smile on his face.

“So, what? Robbe gets all the love and I get none?” Sander asked, with a small (irresistible) pouth.

“Sander! Of course you do, come here!” Milan exclaimed, practically jumping in Sander’s arms. Zoë followed suit immediately, eyeing Senne, who just shrugged before joining in. Robbe laughed, moving to take his shoes off before they could attack him again.

“Come on guys, don’t suffocate him to death!” Robbe said, which got him a snort from Sander in response.

“You’re just jealous Robin,” Sander said, winking. The group hug slowly dissolved, as Milan let out a ‘ooooh burn!’ that made Robbe shake his head, amused.

“Sure, I am. It’s not like I’ve hugged you a thousand times before already” Robbe teased, while everyone returned to whatever they were doing in the kitchen.

Sander bent down to untie his shoes, shaking his head. “See, that’s precisely it. I’ve got you addicted”

Robbe laughed, sending a small ‘you wished’ Sander’s way, seemingly unaffected, despite his heart that skipped a beat in fear at Sander’s words.

They navigated to Robbe’s room, where Sander immediately laid down on the bed in a star shape.

Robbe went to his desk and took his books out of his bag, while Sander groaned in the background.

“Sander? You ok there?” Robbe asked, stifling a laugh, his back to Sander.

Sander sighed, hard. “Yeah, but I hope you realize that I’m never leaving your bed again. I’ve melted into the mattress.”

Robbe threw him a glance, seeing Sander had somehow snaked his way under the cover.

“Suit yourself, just don’t steal all the blankets,” Robbe answered, to which Sander scoffed.

“I would never do that! I’ll have you know that I’m a perfect blanket gentleman.”

Robbe hummed, sitting down to start working on his essay. He was quickly bored though, and with Sander in his room, Robbe didn’t really feel like slaving away doing homework. He turned to face Sander, only to find him fast asleep, his mouth open and squished against the pillow.  

Robbe chuckled under his breath, getting up to take a closer look. Once he got within reach of Sander, he slowly caressed his hair. The gesture made Sander frown a little, before he buried himself closer to the pillow, sighing happily.

Robbe smiled fondly, before moving away and to the end of the bed. He still didn’t feel like working on his homework, so he grabbed his controller and decided to game until Sander woke up from his impromptu nap.

After his third loss in a row, Robbe threw his controller aside and figured he was too out of it to keep playing. Looking at his phone, he saw that Sander had been out for a little over thirty minutes, so Robbe figured he might as well join him.

Taking his hoodie off, he walked to the other side of the bed in his shirt and jeans. He laid down next to Sander, who had turned to face Robbe’s way at some point in the past half hour.

When he was awake, Sander’s face always transpired a panoply of emotions. Even his eyes would glisten, darken and light up in the span of a single conversation. Robbe had always thought that blind people’s eyes wouldn’t hold much emotions, but he was clearly wrong. There were more emotions in a single one of Sander’s pupils than there was in most people’s entire face.

Robbe was pretty sure that’s what made him so fascinated with Sander’s face (because, let’s admit it, he was absolutely obsessed with it). He’d read somewhere that eyes were the window to someone’s soul, and while he was more inclined to think it was pure bullshit at first, since he’d met Sander, he’d come to understand the meaning of those words.

Robbe brushed a strand of hair that had fallen over Sander’s face, softly, trying his best not to disturb Sander’s peaceful sleep. Robbe didn’t know how to describe the swelling that overtook his chest as he watched Sander’s body raise and fall with each breath he took. He’d never felt this before, this peaceful yet gut-wrenching feeling that was filling up his heart.

There were a lot of feelings that Robbe had never felt before he’d met Sander. He didn’t know what it was about Sander that provoked those strong, undecipherable feelings that swallowed Robbe whole, but… He would be lying if he said he hated them. Whatever was causing this, Robbe didn’t mind. He liked Sander and he liked feeling like this, giddy in a way alcohol could never provide, yet rested in a way no amount of sleep could bring about.

He rested his hand in between his body and Sander’s, laying his head down on the pillow. He could feel Sander’s hot breath hit his cheeks from how close they were laying, but it didn’t annoy him. On the contrary, it made Robbe feel safe, content even, as he slowly drifted in and off of sleep.

His state of semi-slumber was interrupted when he felt Sander stirring awake next to him. Sander’s hand stretched and fell down on Robbe’s chest, which made Sander startle.

“Robbe?” He asked, voice still full of sleep.

Robbe hummed in answer.

“What did I just hit?” Sander questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt around Robbe’s chest for clues.

“Chest” Robbe answered, chuckling at the concentrated look on Sander’s face.

“Ahhhh, all good then. Sorry for that,” Sander said, giving Robbe’s chest one last apologetic pat before rising to sit up. Robbe followed.

“Hey, what time is it?” Sander asked, sounding a little stressed all of a sudden.

Robbe looked around for his phone, finding it near his desk. “Hmmm, just about four, why?”

Sander rose to his feet so fast that Robbe feared he might fall down when he started swaying. “Shit! I have to be back home by four thirty to babysit, I’m so sorry. I promised my mom and-”

Robbe interrupted Sander, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sander, it’s chill. Don’t worry”

Sander nodded, but didn’t seem convinced, as he chewed on his lips. He mumbled something under his breath, too low for Robbe to hear.

“What?” Robbe prodded, curious.

Sander sighed, running a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I spent our time together sleeping. I’m so sorry, Robbe.”

Robbe sighed as well, but a little more tenderly. “Sander, I swear it’s fine. I slept too. Besides, we can always hang out tomorrow, once we’re done with classes, right?”

That suggestion seemed to enchant Sander, whose eyes immediately lit up. He snapped his fingers as if he’d just had an illumination, a smile spreading on his face.

"What? You look like you’ve just had a moment of genius.” Robbe teased.

“Even better! I’m going out with friends from uni tomorrow night.” Sander said, excitedly.

Robbe couldn’t help but feel his face fall at that. “Oh. Ok, I get it”

Sander shook his head. “No! No, you don’t. I meant to ask you this earlier, but forgot…” He took a breath, as if steeling himself. “Would you want to meet them? Tomorrow?”

Robbe was stunned into silence, staring at Sander, his mouth hanging open. Sander wanted to present him to his actual friends? He wanted to include Robbe in other parts of his life?

“How is that even a question? Of course I do!” Robbe said, getting just as excited about the idea as Sander.

“Yeah?” Sander added, his smile ever growing.

“Yes!” Robbe said, adding, “Since when do you even have other friends?”

Sander stuck his tongue out at Robbe. “Ha. Ha. Very funny, Robin.”

“Thank you, I think so too”

Sander grabbed his stuff after that, promising he’d send Robbe the address as soon as he’d be home. Robbe suggested walking Sander to the tram, but Sander declined, insisting he could get there on his own.

When Sander was gone, Robbe closed the door and leaned his back against it, slowly sliding to the floor. He was going to meet Sander’s actual friends. He was going to meet Sander’s actual friends! Fuck! Why had he accepted the invitation? This was such a bad idea, they were probably going to hate him and-

Groaning, Robbe lowered his head on his knees.

“Woah, there. Someone’s having a crisis,” Milan said, to which Robbe only grunted in answer.

“Come on, Robbe. What’s on your mind?” Milan asked, sitting down next to him.

“Sander invited me to meet his other university friends tomorrow night.” Robbe sighed.

Milan blinked at him, confused. “And?”

“And, I said yes!” Robbe half-screamed, exasperated by his own actions.

Milan chuckled, looking just as puzzled. “How is that a bad thing? It’s good that he wants you to meet them!”

Robbe groaned at Milan’s incomprehension. “They’re gonna hate me Milan! They’re probably all cool art kids and I’m…” He gestured vaguely towards himself, “not!”

Milan sighed, patting Robbe’s back sympathetically. “Come on, Robbe. You’re smart, interesting and super cute! There’s no way they won’t fall in love with you the second they see you.”

Robbe threw a glance Milan’s way, “Thanks Milan.”

Milan nodded, “Good luck! You’ll be great,” He said, getting up and walking away.

Robbe’s worries were far from gone, but he was glad that Milan thought so highly of him. If all else failed, he knew he’d always have the flatshare to fall back on. That was a constant Robbe was so grateful to have in his life, he didn’t think he could ever find words to express it properly.

------------------

The next day passed by so slowly that it felt painful. It’s like time had decided to mock him, by prolonging his suffering.

Robbe hadn’t registered a single word from his lectures, spending the hours looking back and forth at the clock, so much so that he feared he might end up with a torticollis by the end of the day. If the end of the day ever came, that is.

The second his last lecture of the afternoon was dismissed, Robbe had pounced on the door, practically running all the way back to his flat.

Sander had, as promised, texted him the address the night before. They were meeting at a local bar, nothing too fancy, but Robbe’s usual ‘jogging and sweater’ school attire would probably be too lowkey.

Robbe tried rummaging through his closet, throwing about half of it out before giving up.

“Milan! Milan!” He screamed, hoping Milan would be willing to help.

A second later, he popped his head into the room.

“You called for me?” He asked.

“Yes. Milan, can I please borrow something of yours for tonight? Everything I own is just… wrong” Robbe sighed, pleading Milan with his eyes.

Milan seemed to mull it over, before he threw the door wide open. “Of course you can! Come with, I’ll turn this pumpkin into a prince!”

Robbe laughed, following Milan around the house. “I’m pretty sure the pumpkin gets turned into a coach, not a prince.”

Milan stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to Robbe with a warning finger.

“Do you want my help or not?”

Robbe nodded vehemently.

“Then don’t question my Disney knowledge, Robbe! Flatmates rule #35!”

Robbe raised his hands in surrender, laughing, before Milan started back towards his own room, Robbe on his heels.

Milan did deliver on his promise, after all. Robbe was dressed in a nice long-sleeved shirt with fitted jeans, nothing too flashy, but classy enough to look like he’d put an effort into his outfit (which he, or rather Milan, had).

The bar wasn’t far from Robbe’s home, so he decided to simply walk there. He figured he could shake his nerves out on the way there, and, hopefully, be a little calmer once he’d reach his destination.

The breeze was nice, flowing through his curls. He had been smart enough to bring a jacket, in case the night grew colder as it got later. Despite the atmosphere and his precautions, Robbe couldn’t help the hammering of his heart against his ribcage. He felt even worse than he had that one time in second grade when he’d been called out in class to make a presentation about a book he’d never bothered to read.

Soon enough, he reached the bar, which seemed to be busy with customers. Robbe closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He tried to tell himself that everything would go smoothly, that Sander’s friends would like him, and that he’d get out of this alive and with his pride intact. If the shaking in his hands was anything to go by, he wasn’t very good at convincing himself.

He sighed, shaking his hands out, before walking into the bar. A radio was playing in the background, just barely covering the noise of the chatter. Robbe walked a little further in, immediately spotting Sander in the corner, sitting at a table with three other people.

Robbe took another deep breath for good luck, and made his way to their table. All three pairs of (functional) eyes were staring at him as he walked, more curious than austere, which reassured Robbe a little.

A blonde guy was the first to signal Robbe’s arrival. “This must be the famous Robbe!”

“Yeah, hi!” Robbe said, nodding in everyone’s direction.

Sander’s whole body whipped towards Robbe when he spoke. “Robbe! You’re here! Sit, sit,”

Sander fumbled with the chair next to him, making space for Robbe to sit next to him. Robbe thanked him, sitting down, trying not to be too unsettled by the looks Sander’s friends kept throwing each other.

Sander’s right hand came to rest on Robbe’s left shoulder immediately.

“Did you find the place easily? I think it’s pretty close to your place, isn’t it?” Sander asked, with the same considerate tone he took every time he wanted to make sure Robbe was ok.

Robbe figured he could probably sense his nervousness. Hell, anyone in a five mile radius who took one look at him could probably tell he was shitting his pants.

“Yeah, it was fine, don’t worry Sander” Robbe answered, smiling.

Sander smiled as well, more to himself, but Robbe still caught it and it made him feel a little more at ease.

Only a little though, because the same boy from earlier decided to clear his throat at that moment, making both Robbe and Sander turn their head towards him abruptly.

He had both of his eyebrows raised, and a knowing smile floating on his face.

“Sooo, Robbe, what are you studying?”

The night went on pretty similarly. After the initial interrogation, Robbe stayed a bit more silent, observing how Sander interacted with his friends.

At some point, Robbe was listening to a drunken story from one of the girls, Marie, while tapping the fingers of his hand on the table. He hadn’t even noticed the nervous tic, before Sander’s hand came to rest on top of it. Robbe’s eyes were instantly drawn to their overlapping hands.

Sander squeezed once in reassurance, and it made Robbe smile. Even in social situations like these, Sander always had a way of knowing exactly how Robbe was feeling, and exactly how to make him feel better. Robbe squeezed back, before Sander slowly took his hand back.

The night wasn’t much different from Robbe and Sander’s regular nights, in that Sander acted exactly the same way he always had with Robbe. When something really funny made him laugh, he would softly knock his forehead on Robbe’s shoulder, hiding his face as he giggled. When he couldn’t remember where he’d placed his glass, he’d lightly tap Robbe’s hand with his own, a silent signal that Robbe had long learned, and Robbe would silently pass Sander’s glass over to him. And when Sander felt Robbe become too antsy, he’d place his hand on Robbe’s bouncing knee, tapping fingers or shaky hands.

Before knowing Sander, Robbe hadn’t been used to touchy people, but now that he was, he found Sander’s small, mindless gestures calming, in the same familiar way that your childhood beddings or your mama’s hugs appease you.

After a while, the blond guy, Max, sipped the last of his beer, knocking it back against the table.

“So, who wants what? This round’s on me!” Max said, already pushing to get up.

Sander stood up at once, surprising everyone at the table.

“No! I’ll go. It’s my turn with the tab, anyway.” Sander said, sounding sure of himself.

Robbe furrowed his eyebrows, but said nothing when he saw Max sit back down and cheer Sander on. Everyone passed their orders and Sander repeated them once before expertly making his way to the bartender.

“How does he navigate so well everywhere?” Robbe asked out loud, to no one particularly. Max probably assumed the question was directed to him, since he took it upon himself to answer.

“Oh, that? It’s like his little superpower. Bring him somewhere once or twice and he’ll know the place by heart.” Max said, earning a few chuckles from the girls and a curious glance from Robbe.

If Sander was so good with directions, then why did he always let Robbe guide him by the arm? Robbe had never really thought about the fact that Sander could seemingly perfectly get back home by himself, but required Robbe’s assistance in the flatshare or when they went out somewhere.

His thoughts were interrupted by Marie.

“Say, you two are pretty close, huh?” She asked, her smile telling Robbe that her question covered a hidden meaning.

“Yeah, sure, he’s a good friend.” Robbe shrugged, smiling politely.

Marie and the other girl, Anne, exchange an amused look.

“Yeah, I bet you must be really good friends,” Anne added, laughing.

Robbe’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I don't get the joke” He said, a little annoyed.

Max sighed, like an exasperated parent. “Robbe, haven’t you noticed that Sander is a little…” He looked towards Marie, “touchy?”

Robbe frowned. “Yeah? He’s blind, touch is, like, his way of seeing.”

Max nodded. “Then, why does he only ever touch you ?”

Robbe could feel his features harden. He wasn’t dumb, he could clearly understand what Max was insinuating.

“He doesn’t.” Robbe answered, his tone sharp and severe.

Max smiled, as if he could clearly see through Robbe’s bluff. He held Robbe’s gaze.

“He does, though.”

Robbe thought back to all the times he’d been with Sander and other people. He did accept Milan’s group hugs, but even when he came over to eat at the flatshare, he wouldn’t purposefully brush his hands on Milan’s, Zoë’s or Senne’s. If they went to catch a movie with the boys, Sander would only ever lay his head on Robbe’s shoulder, curling up into his side. Even at Sander’s house, Robbe couldn’t remember Sander being so tactile with his mother or his sister. He always did stuff himself, and if he needed them, he’d call them out loud instead of touching them to get their attention the way he did with Robbe.

And tonight. Sander had kept a free seat next to him for Robbe. He’d touched Robbe, almost constantly in one way or another. But he’d never even accidentally brushed against one of his other friends. He wasn’t cold towards them, and you could see the friendship that was linking them together, but still… No touch.

If Sander was truly that tactile, then wouldn’t his childhood friend, Max, and his other uni friends notice he’s tactile as well?

So, if Sander was only ever tactile with Robbe, then why? Was it funny to him? Did Sander think he could try and see what he could do, how far he could go, before Robbe would catch up?

The befriending, the breakup, the mysterious past with Britt… Everything was making sense, now. Robbe had been played, hard. He didn’t know why, what motive Sander could possibly have to make a fool out of Robbe, but he’d succeeded.

Robbe felt angry, betrayed and ashamed. But most of all, he felt pain. He could sense his heart cracking and falling into tiny pieces, as more and more worries overtake his mind.

Whatever he had left of pride was holding back his tears from rolling down his cheeks. He got up, grabbed his bag and coat.

“I... I have to go.” Robbe told the group of three, hurrying towards the entrance like his life depended on it (and at the moment, he felt like it truly did).

He slammed the door open, stepping outside as the first tear streamed down his face. He tried to wipe it away, but it only got replaced with even more tears. He walked down the small steps and leaned against the wall, his head tilted to the sky.

He was furious. He wanted nothing more than to go back in there, make a scene and demand explanations from Sander. But even more than that, he was humiliated. It wasn’t the first time he’d been made fun of, but this time, it hurt a lot more and a lot deeper. What he felt with Sander…

It’s true what they say, he supposes. Ignorance truly is bliss.

Robbe heard the doorbell of the bar ring, but he didn’t pay attention to it.

“Robbe? Robbe!” a voice shouted from his right.

Sander.

“Fuck off, Sander.” Robbe said, getting ready to walk away, but Sander was quicker in grabbing his arm. Robbe sighed tiredly, too exhausted and hurt to fight. “Let go,”

Sander shook his head firmly.

“No. No, Robbe, come on. I don’t know what they told you, but whatever it was, it’s definitely not what you think.” Sander pleaded.

“I don’t care, Sander. Whatever little game you were playing, I hope you had your fun. I’m out.” Robbe said, trying, unsuccessfully, to shake his arm out of Sander’s grasp. “Let me go, Sander!”

“Robbe, Robbe, listen to me. Please. I wasn’t playing any game, I swear, I can explain. Please.” Sander was practically begging, and Robbe could see tears forming in his eyes. He turned his head away.

“Let go,” was all Robbe said, trying to appear cold and composed.

Sander loosened his grip, and Robbe thought he’d finally listened.

A second later, Sander’s hands were cupping his face. Another second later, and Sander’s lips were on his.

Robbe was frozen in place at first, his brain unable to process everything that was happening.

The warmth from Sander’s hands on Robbe’s cold, wet, cheeks. The warmth of Sander’s mouth against his own. The explosion of heat pooling in his stomach. The explosion in his own brain.

Sander was… Kissing him?

Robbe brought his hands up to Sander’s shoulders, pushing him back. He felt a little bad when he saw Sander stumble backwards, not realizing how hard he had pushed him away.

“Sander… I…” Robbe started, unable to form a single coherent thought.

“I like you, Robbe. A lot. A lot more than other people. So, that’s why. I wasn’t playing you.” Sander said, a sad smile dancing on his lips.

Robbe took a small, tentative step back. He could feel his body shaking, badly, as if the temperature had suddenly dropped well under zero.

“Sander… I don’t… I’m not…” He swallowed painfully, “I don’t like you, not like that .”

The word was said with a bit more venom than Robbe had been shooting for, and he could see the second it hit Sander.

Sander’s face crumpled, as he whispered a small, desperate, “What?”

Robbe tried to breathe in, but even his breathing was shaky. “I’m so sorry, Sander. I’m… I have to go. I just… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Robbe threw Sander one last apologetic look, turning on his heels and walking away.

The last thing he heard were Sander’s first sobs. His own followed soon after.

As soon as Robbe turned the corner, he let his tears flow freely as he took off in a run. He didn’t even know where he was going, or where he was, but he didn’t care.

His whole world had just fallen apart and the most important person in his life was gone.

#wtfock #wtfock fic #drijzermans #sobbe #I see you when you run from the light (within your eyes) #IT'S HERE KIDS

[newstfionline]

Thursday, June 23, 2022

The world marks the summer solstice (Washington Post) Across the Northern Hemisphere on Tuesday, musicians shined their instruments and children strung up flower garlands in preparation for celebrations of the summer solstice—the longest day and shortest night of the year in this part of the world. For some cultures, the day has a mystical quality to it. Different groups celebrate nature blooming for the start of summer, while others worship the sun. Vikings and ancient Egyptians celebrated the summer solstice centuries ago. Today, it’s marked in a variety of ways in countries of the Northern Hemisphere. In Wiltshire, England, pagans and other revelers welcomed the early sunrise Tuesday at Stonehenge with flutes and flower crowns. In France, the summer solstice coincides with a national celebration of music held yearly since 1982. June 21 is also the International Day of Yoga, celebrated in South Asia and around the world with mass yoga sessions. In Sweden, it is an official holiday and the start of five weeks of summer holidays for children. They mark the occasion with bonfires, picnics, flower-picking and maypole dancing.

You’ve likely been affected by climate change. Your long-term finances might be, too (NPR) A great majority of Americans have been affected by extreme weather in recent years, and many suffer long-term financial problems as a result, according to a new nationwide survey conducted by NPR, the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation and the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. More than three-quarters of adults in the United States say they have experienced extreme weather in the last five years, including hurricanes, wildfires, floods and heat waves, the survey found. And most people who suffer major weather damage or financial problems do not receive money from the federal government. The results underscore how ubiquitous and dangerous climate change is for Americans, as the hottest part of the year gets underway, and people across the country gird themselves for another year of severe hurricanes, floods, fires and heat waves.

Europe wildfire risk heightened by early heat waves, drought (AP) Extended drought conditions in several Mediterranean countries, a heat wave last week that reached northern Germany and high fuel costs for aircraft needed to fight wildfires have heightened concerns across Europe this summer. And it’s only June. “Much of the continent is in drought,” said Cathelijne Stoof, an environmental science professor at the Netherlands’ Wageningen University, who called the wildfire outlook “very challenging across Europe.” Fires last summer blackened more than 11,000 square kilometers (4,250 square miles) of land—an area more than four times the size of Luxembourg.

Germany risks recession as Russian gas crisis deepens (Reuters) Germany faces certain recession if already faltering Russian gas supplies completely stop, an industry body warned on Tuesday, as Sweden joined a growing list of European nations rolling out emergency plans to cope with a deepening energy supply crisis. European Union countries from the Baltic Sea in the north to the Adriatic coast in the south have been outlining measures to cope with a supply crisis after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The EU relied on Russia for as much as 40% of its gas needs before the war—rising to 55% for Germany—leaving a huge gap to fill in an already tight global gas market. Global gas prices have sky-rocketed, driving surging inflation higher still and creating a bigger headache for policy makers trying to haul Europe back from an economic precipice. Russian gas is still being pumped via Ukraine but at a reduced rate and the Nord Stream 1 pipeline under the Baltic, a vital supply route to Germany, is working at just 40% capacity, which Moscow says is because Western sanctions are hindering repairs. Europe says this is a pretext to reduce flows.

Afghanistan quake kills 1,000 people, deadliest in decades (AP) A powerful earthquake struck a rugged, mountainous region of eastern Afghanistan early Wednesday, flattening stone and mud-brick homes and killing at least 1,000 people in the country’s deadliest quake in two decades, the state-run news agency reported. An estimated 1,500 others were reported injured, and officials said the death toll could rise. The disaster inflicted by the 6.1-magnitude quake posed a major test for Afghanistan’s Taliban government, which retook power nearly 10 months ago as the U.S. and its NATO allies withdrew from the country and has been largely shunned by the rest of the world since.

India’s military budget (Nikkei Asia) Last year, India’s budget for defense was $76 billion, the third-highest in the world behind the United States and China. About 52 percent of that goes to personnel costs, which is very much on the high side, and it’s got military planners worried. Previous governments have estimated that the country would have just 10 days’ worth of ammunition if a war were to break out, but leadership has also been reluctant to cut the number of soldiers because doing so would eliminate what’s considered a stable, reliable employment path for the 1.4 million people currently in the military. The newest plan would be to have successful candidates join the military for four years, after which point about a quarter are retained for life-long careers while the rest are sacked and given a single payment of 1.17 million rupees ($15,000), but no pension. This has sent thousands of protestors into the streets demanding a reversal to the change.

Asia is buying discounted Russian oil, making up for Europe’s cutbacks. (NYT) A surge in demand from Asia for discounted Russian oil is making up for the sharply lower number of barrels being sold to Europe, dulling the effects of the West’s efforts to punish Moscow over its invasion of Ukraine and keeping revenue flowing to the Kremlin. Most of the additional oil has gone to two countries: China and India. China’s imports of Russian oil rose 28 percent in May from the previous month, hitting a record high and helping Russia overtake Saudi Arabia as China’s largest supplier. And most of the increase went to India, which has gone from taking in almost no Russian oil to bringing in more than 760,000 barrels a day, according to shipping data analyzed by Kpler, a market research firm. “Asia has saved Russian crude production,” said Viktor Katona, an analyst at Kpler. “Russia, instead of falling further, is almost close to its prepandemic levels.” Russian oil is being sold at a steep discount because of the risks associated with sanctions imposed to punish Russia for its invasion of Ukraine. Even so, soaring energy prices have led to an uptick in oil revenue for Russia, which took in $1.7 billion more last month than it did in April, according to the International Energy Agency.

China’s Growing Surveillance State (NYT) China’s ambition to collect a staggering amount of personal data from everyday citizens is more expansive than previously known, a Times investigation has found. The Chinese government’s goal is clear: designing a system to maximize what the state can find out about a person’s identity, activities and social connections, which could ultimately help the government maintain its authoritarian rule. Here are the investigation’s major revelations: Chinese police analyze human behaviors to ensure facial recognition cameras capture as much activity as possible (analysts estimate that more than half of the world’s nearly one billion surveillance cameras are in China); Authorities are using phone trackers to link people’s digital lives to their physical movements. Devices known as WiFi sniffers and IMSI catchers can glean information from phones in their vicinity, which allow the police to track a target’s movements; DNA, iris scan samples and voice prints are being collected indiscriminately from people with no connection to crime. In the name of tracking criminals—which are often loosely defined by Chinese authorities and can include political dissidents—the Chinese police are purchasing equipment to build large-scale iris-scan and DNA databases. The Chinese police are also widely collecting DNA samples from men; The government wants to connect all of these data points to build comprehensive profiles for citizens—which are accessible throughout the government.

Netanyahu prepares for a comeback in Israel’s next elections (Washington Post) The announcement of the Israeli governing coalition’s collapse and the preparations for a fifth election in less than four years was met with exasperation by many Israelis. But the news came as a resounding victory for Benjamin Netanyahu, who, over the past year as the head of the opposition, has been preparing for his own comeback. It is not immediately clear how that would happen, however, since polls show that most Israelis will continue to vote the way they have in the past few elections, producing a polarized, deadlocked Knesset and fragile coalition governments. Netanyahu, who led Israel for much of the past 20 years, seems to be betting on breaking the political stalemate by galvanizing his right-wing base and painting his opponents as a threat to society. The coalition’s collapse is in large part the result of Netanyahu’s efforts to encourage coalition members uncomfortable with its ideological diversity to jump ship. At 72, after a year and one week spent in the Knesset’s opposition hall and in the Jerusalem District Court, where he is the subject of an ongoing corruption trial, Netanyahu’s determination to reclaim his political throne appears to be fiercer than ever. “This is the big show, and no one does the big show like Netanyahu,” said Aviv Bushinsky, a former adviser to Netanyahu.

Airports Around the World Battle Long Lines, Canceled Flights (WSJ) Delays, cancellations, long lines and lost baggage are plaguing air travel world-wide, as airlines and airports struggle with soaring summer demand and staff shortfalls. London’s Gatwick Airport has told airlines to cut back on inbound flights as it struggles with staff shortages and canceled flights. Over a four-day weekend celebrating Queen Elizabeth II’s Platinum Jubilee earlier this month, lines of passengers waiting to check in stretched out of the terminal. Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport is limiting the number of passengers allowed inside, asking travelers not to show up more than four hours before their flights. It is also warning them to wear comfortable shoes for the hourslong wait once inside. The two airports—both gateways for European vacations this summer—are struggling, like the rest of the industry, with chronic staff shortages. Sydney Airport last week staged a job fair looking for 5,000 new hires. At Toronto’s Pearson International Airport, Canada’s busiest, staffing shortages in security and at customs and immigration have caused delays and lines. The start of summer can be a tough time to travel in the best of years. But delays, especially in Europe, are particularly high this summer season.

Record-breaking python caught in Florida measured in at 17.7 feet, 215 pounds (6abc News) Florida researchers found a nearly 18-foot long, 215 pound python, the largest ever found outside its native habitat. The python had hoof cores in her digestive tract, which researchers say indicates her last meal was an adult white-tailed deer. When the researchers weighed the snake, they couldn’t believe it. “I thought the scale was broken,” intern Kyle Findley said. “Large reproductive female pythons are very important to remove from these ecosystems,” according to biologist Sarah Funck. She said the big females are disproportionately capable of giving birth to many babies. The record-breaking female snake had 122 eggs lining her inside from her stomach to her tail; the eggs were not yet fully mature. Florida Fish & Wildlife has killed or removed more than 15,000 pythons since 2000, but ultimately nobody knows how many more are living in the state.

#headlines #news

[seymour-butz-stuff]

The Trump campaign has been urgently seeking volunteers to call Pennsylvania Republicans who didn't return their absentee ballots to mail them in. It's unlikely to work, but it is election fraud. The deadline for ballots to be mailed in Pennsylvania was Tuesday, Nov. 3. The campaign sent out an email from its Wisconsin staff, saying: "Trump Victory urgently needs volunteers to make phone calls to Pennsylvania Trump supporters to return their absentee ballots.

"These phone calls will help President Trump win the election!" it concluded. The problem is, it can't unless there's a really big conspiracy to get those ballots injected into the system, one that would involve postal workers or the election observers inside canvassing rooms. They would need the postal workers to illegally manufacture fraudulent postmarks on the ballots. Or they would need someone in the rooms where they count the ballots who could smuggle them in and slip them into the process. Nevertheless, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reports that "dozens" of staff of Wisconsin's Republican Party were involved in the effort to recruit volunteers.

"This seems deeply stupid as it seems to be a solicitation to commit voter fraud," Richard Hasen, elections law specialist at the University of California, Irvine Law School, told the paper. "It's hard to believe this is real." It's more likely an effort to try to spoil all the mail-in ballots in Pennsylvania by injecting these fraudulent ones into the mix so that the Trump campaign could have "real" evidence that there's fraud to boost their chances of getting the Supreme Court to toss out the Pennsylvania results. Benjamin Geffen, an attorney with the Public Interest Law Center in Philadelphia, pointed this out: "If you're knowingly encouraging people to mail in ballots after the deadline, you're encouraging cheating," Geffen said. "But maybe it's just to muddy the waters." He added: "I don't know if it's what you could call first degree misconduct, (trying to actually get invalid votes counted) or just second degree misconduct, trying to create perception the process is riddled with fraud."

Because Trump, his campaign, and the Supreme Court conservatives raised so much hell about the deadline for mail-in ballots being extended through end of the day Friday, Pennsylvania officials ordered counties to make sure those late-arriving ballots were segregated from Election Day ballots, to ensure they were walled off from Trumpian mischief. So you can bet these ballots are getting an awful lot of scrutiny, with their postmarks being closely checked and double-checked.

Meanwhile, a sweep of postal facilities on Thursday found 1,000 ballots in Philadelphia facilities and 300 in Pittsburgh. Since the Wisconsin Republican voter fraud initiative started Thursday, these are probably not those ballots.

This is a deeply stupid effort, so much so that you have to wonder if Sen. Ron “Genius” Johnson in Wisconsin didn’t cook it up. It’s exposing potentially dozens of people to prosecution for election fraud. And it’s proving once again that systemic voter fraud is entirely manufactured by Republicans, to prove that voter fraud is a real thing.

Every election, time and time again, the only ones found committing voter fraud are Republicans. People voting twice. People voting for dead relatives because “they know” what the relative would have wanted (doesn’t matter, they’re dead). And now this horseshit.

This is a sign of a political party on its last legs. They’ve lost the ability to get elected legally, so they commit illegal acts left and right to try and hold onto power.

Let them pass into the sunet and become a distant memory, and get replaced with a progressive party that will represent the will of the people. The mindless drones will vote Democratic again in a heartbeat the instant their leaders start bleating that they should do it.

#2

[adenil-umano]

12 Days of Spones Day 3: Travel

[Read on AO3]

In a universe where instant travel was always at his fingertips, McCoy knew that sometimes it was the journey that mattered the most. The Enterprise was due for a refit and her crew was granted an extended shore leave. McCoy spent the first day at his family’s ranch in Georgia closing out all his old cases. There were miles of notes to catch up on and by the time he was done the first day of shore leave had turned to night. He padded around the empty house adjusting picture frames and dusting shelves, sipping on an Andorian ale until he was tired enough to fall asleep on the couch.

The next day he spent packing the shuttle car. It was an older model with a low hover height and a top speed of ninety kilometers an hour. The autopilot had been broken for years. He filled the trunk space with his suitcases and datapadds and then went back to the ranch to lock up. When he returned he was surprised to see Spock standing by the shuttle car with a bag over his shoulder.

McCoy blinked. “Spock. Fancy meeting you here.”

Spock had been looking out over the horizon, and he turned as McCoy spoke, his gaze half-lidded and contemplative. “Doctor,” he greeted, and said nothing more.

“What brings you to Georgia?”

“I am not certain.”

McCoy’s interest was piqued. “This is a rare day indeed, if the indomitably brilliant Mr. Spock is admitting he doesn’t know something.”

Spock inclined his head. “I admit I was…curious about the place you call home. I find it is less illogically ordered than I had assumed.”

“It’s a ranch, Spock. They have their own logic.”

“Indeed. It seems to have been quite some time since any animals were raised here. The garden also seems to be in a state of disrepair.”

McCoy followed his gaze to the old garden plot near the house. The only thing that distinguished it was the different kind of grass that had taken root there, and the dilapidated wood fencing that was falling in on itself. “Well, it’ll have to lie fallow a bit longer. I’m not here long enough to fix this place up.”

“You are preparing for a trip?”

“Yeah. One I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

“Where will you go?”

“To Alaska.”

Spock blinked. He glanced back at the shuttle car, his brown eyes calculating. “I do not believe this vehicle will last the trip.”

“I spent most of my childhood fixing up this old girl. If I encounter problems I can handle them.”

“The Alcan Highway is notorious for its state of disrepair.”

McCoy shrugged. “Like I said, I’ll handle it. That’s part of the excitement of taking a trip like this, Spock.”

“I see.”

Spock’s gaze was fixed on the shuttle car. McCoy considered him standing there, looking a bit small with just his single bag over his shoulder.

“…What are you doing for shore leave?”

“I had not yet decided.”

“Just wanted to pay your old pal McCoy a visit, hm? Well, get in the damned car.”

Spock tilted his head. “Doctor?”

“You heard me. Get in. For pity’s sake, Spock. You’re like a sad puppy standing there. I can hardly look at you.”

Spock frowned very slightly. “I am not a ‘sad puppy,’ Doctor.”

“Prove it.” McCoy swept his arm towards the car. “Come with me. You can make sure I don’t crash into a tree or get sucked into a pothole. If you get sick of it we can call Starfleet and have them beam you somewhere else.”

Spock hesitated for just a moment, but McCoy knew he had Spock dead to rights. The Vulcan had never been good at taking vacation even at the best of times, and being stuck on Earth probably didn’t sit well with him. After a moment, Spock nodded. He placed his bag in the back seat and climbed into the shuttle car.

It took three tries for McCoy to get the engine to turn over, and he ignored Spock’s look of concern as they lifted unsteadily into the air. The car had always listed to one side. The way McCoy remembered it, it had listed to the left, but the old bird had a prominent limp towards the right today. Either way, he’d handle it.

They took off over the field towards the highway, skimming near the surface of the planet and kicking up dust as they went. McCoy glanced over and saw Spock gripping the handle above the window, and he grinned. A little company was just what he needed.

---

They made good time the first day, and wound up in a little Podunk town near the corner where Tennessee met Missouri. Spock had relaxed after the first hundred kilometers and was now studiously typing in a datapadd. McCoy glanced over at him occasionally, smiling to himself at the sight of Spock with his nose in a book—or some other data—while the world passed by just outside the window. But most McCoy entertained himself by watching the scenery and occasionally flipping through the radio stations. He knew Spock would talk when he was ready.

The shuttle car had fold-down back seats suitable for sleeping on, but McCoy didn’t feel like being that cramped this early in the trip. He booked a room at a motel with a hot tub and spent most of the night making soup of himself and turning wrinkly and pruned while Spock sat nearby, still writing. McCoy flicked a few droplets of water Spock’s way and laughed as Spock scowled like a wet cat. They ate sandwiches in the motel room and McCoy collapsed into bed before nine o’clock.

He awoke once, that first night, just as Spock was turning down the covers of the bed across from him. He watched Spock, dimly lit by the light seeping through the partially curtained window, as he moved about in his Starfleet-issued pajamas. They were black silk, and the pants were just a bit too short for Spock, exposing his ankles and making him look like a lanky teenager who was growing too fast. McCoy snorted to himself and rolled over, falling instantly back to sleep.

The next day they stopped at the St. Louis gateway arch. McCoy wasn’t too impressed, but he perked up when they found an expansive botanical garden. The air was thick and humid, and he made Spock stop to pose for pictures. He captured Spock’s long-suffering frown near a dozen different flowers from all over the world.

They fell into a rhythm. With plenty of time to sight-see, the fact that the shuttle car was less than half as fast as current models didn’t bother McCoy. Spock hardly seemed to notice whether they were stopped or moving; he kept his nose tucked into the datapadd he was working on regardless. They ate at the greasiest spoon dives that McCoy could find for one meal, and then at an upscale restaurant that served single bites on porcelain plates the next. Occasionally, McCoy commented on the scenery during their drive, and Spock always replied dutifully. They picked up an old argument about the logic (or lack thereof) of different systems of classifying living creatures, and then they put the argument down again. Neither was in any hurry to win. McCoy was just arguing because he liked to hear Spock’s voice.

In the evening they would stop wherever was convenient. They stayed at a five-star hotel one night where room service delivered fresh pasta and bread that was still warm to the touch. The next night they spent at a bread and breakfast that woke them precisely at 6:00 a.m. for waffles and strawberries. McCoy growled his annoyance at the early hour and Spock placated him by fetching mug after mug of fresh coffee. They sat at the small table with their elbows touching, listening to their host tell them about all the people that had come through and stayed with her. She’d had folks from Starfleet before, of course, but never anyone from such a prestigious starship.

“Tell me, what’s it like? The only time I’ve ever been off-world was to visit my cousin on Mars for her wedding. I’ve never travelled outside the solar system.”

“At a certain point you forget you're travelling anywhere,” McCoy said. “It’s just you and the crew, and the ship is almost like its own small planet. You forget you’re moving, forget there’s anything else besides those walls and the view.”

He found himself looking at Spock, who was still contemplating their host’s question. After a moment, Spock said, “It is quite mentally stimulating.”

She smiled. “I’ll just bet it is. Is that how you two met?”

“Yeah, we both serve on the Enterprise.”

“It must be hard,” she said, glancing up towards the ceiling as if she could see through it to where the Enterprise orbited above them. “Being away from home.” She smiled. “Well, at least you have each other.”

McCoy didn’t have an answer to that. He busied himself with his waffles, and when Spock’s elbow bumped him he didn’t pull away.

---

They went north far enough to stop at the Crazy Horse Memorial. They stood on the viewing platform side-by-side. McCoy traced Crazy Horse’s bold profile with his eyes, admiring the craftsmanship of his outstretched arm and the braying face of the horse he rode. After, he turned the shuttle car west.

The landscape shifted and changed beneath them. Black hills transitioned suddenly into dry desert. Mountains sprung up occasionally, and then more frequently, and McCoy maneuvered the car slowly around the switchbacks. Spock had put down his datapadd and was gripping tightly to the handle above the window again.

“Sorry,” McCoy muttered.

“It is no matter,” Spock said, but his voice was a bit wavery and he was quite pale.

“If you’re car sick I’ve got a hypo in the back.”

Spock shook his head, but it took only a few more curving switchbacks for him to rise in his seat and turn to reach back for the medkit. His shoulder brushed McCoy’s as he searched, and then he withdrew with hypo in hand. He spun the dial and held it up to McCoy, who nodded at the dosage. Spock injected himself and placed the hypospray in the cup holder, already relaxing in increments.

“Didn’t expect you to be the type to get car sick,” McCoy said, keeping his eyes glued to the road. “I’ve never seen you get space sick, even when we’re being rocked to next Tuesday by some anomaly or another.”

“Normally, we are not close enough to the ground for me to see the horizon,” Spock said. He had leaned back in his seat but hadn’t picked up the datapadd again. “I have gotten sea sick once before while boating on a lake on Andoria. It is not a pleasant experience.”

“Not very logical either?”

“Indeed, no.” Spock’s voice carried a faint hint of exasperation. “It is not logical for my brain to misinterpret my balance.”

“Well, that nausea hypo should help. And not reading for a while. That always used to make me car sick as a kid.”

Spock hummed. “I suppose I shall have to finish my work later.”

“What are you working on anyway? You haven’t looked away from that padd this whole trip.”

Spock was silent. McCoy risked a glance over and found Spock gazing out the window with a faint hint of wistfulness.

“You don’t have to answer,” McCoy said, turning back to the road. “If it’s private.”

“It is not. Not…precisely.” Spock considered for a moment longer. “I would like to tell you. However, I would prefer to wait for our arrival in Fairbanks. Is this acceptable?”

McCoy laughed. “Sure, Spock. Whatever makes you happy.”

“Happiness plays no part—”

“I know, I know.” He reached out blindly and managed to pat Spock’s arm. “I was just teasing you.”

“Very well,” Spock said, sounding miffed.

McCoy managed not to laugh at him too loudly, and drove on.

---

They stopped at the Pacific ocean, because when you drive that far West you might as well go further. McCoy found a sandy beach and hopped out of the car, leaving his boots on the ground. After a moment’s hesitation Spock copied him, slipping off his boots and leaving them propped up straight near McCoy’s haphazard pile. They walked barefoot down the sandy path and stood at the edge of the wave line waiting for the cold water to come to them. When it did, it came faster and further than McCoy had expected, and they had to run to avoid getting drenched, McCoy cackling and Spock with wide, bright eyes. McCoy’s jeans still wound up soaked up to the hip, and Spock’s was wet up to the knee.

Together, they walked along the beach picking up shells. There was a spawning of jellyfish in the sand and Spock regaled him with every known fact about the species as they tiptoed around them and watched the waves roll up and carry their gelatinous bodies away again. When they were done McCoy had a pocket full of smooth shells and there was sand on every inch of his body.

They found a cottage along the coast where they could stay the night and shower off. When McCoy emerged from the shower with a towel around his hips, feeling clean and warm, he found Spock arranging their shells. Spock looked up at him and his gaze was unexpectedly heavy, warming McCoy even further until he felt hot and flushed.

“Shower’s yours,” he said gruffly, moving to pull his pajamas from his suitcase.

Spock rose silently and made his way into the bathroom. When the door closed McCoy ambled over to look at the shells. They were arranged by type, or so it appeared, lined up in neat little rows. But one stood out from the rest. It was shaped differently, very particularly, and McCoy had to scold himself for thinking it was shaped like a heart.

They followed the coastline North to Dawson Creek. They spent a few days there taking short day trips to various locations to hike and admire the scenery. It was strange to be able to hike without worrying about catching an alien disease or falling prey to some alien animal. It had been years since McCoy had been able to hike outside of the context of an away mission. Spock seemed to find it harder to break the habit, and he brought a tricorder on each trip to scan the plants and wildlife, and to map the ground on water where they went.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” McCoy said mildly. He was sitting on a boulder at the edge of a river, watching with amusement as Spock knelt to scan a small cluster of flowers. “I’m fairly certain we’ve discovered every animal on Earth by now.”

Spock paused to consider his words. “One never knows what is left to discover.”

McCoy chuckled. He slid off the boulder and ambled over to Spock, eying the flowers Spock was still scanning. “You really don’t know how to relax, do you?”

“This is relaxing.”

“No, this is work during vacation.” He knelt beside Spock and placed his hand on top of the tricorder, slowly closing it. “You don’t have to scan everything you see, Spock. Sometimes it’s okay to just look and experience it. If you want to look closer…” He reached down and plucked one of the flowers. It was yellow, with a brown seed head and firm, smooth stem. “You can simply pick it up and touch it.”

He held out the flower to Spock. Spock was watching him intently, eyes trained on McCoy’s hands as though he were carrying a fragile bird, or the cure to some disease, and not just a flower. After a moment his gaze flickered upwards and their eyes met, and McCoy was struck by the enormity of the emotion on display in Spock’s eyes. There was turmoil there, a kind of sadness that fluttered under the surface. But, more boldly, there was warmth, and happiness. Spock looked at him like he held the universe in his hands.

Spock accepted the flower. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Of course.” McCoy’s voice was thick.

Had he imagined that look? No, not possible. Not when there were still hints of it in Spock’s sly glances, in the way he cradled the flower like it was the greatest gift he had ever received.

McCoy’s skin itched. “Well,” he said, standing. “That’s enough rest. We should get back to our hike.”

Spock nodded and rose as well. They went into the woods together, and Spock kept the tricorder closed.

---

It became harder to find places to sleep at night. The first day on the Alcan Highway they drove until well after dark to find a town with an open room. The town was hardly more than a few buildings scattered about, and McCoy slept the sleep of the dead, exhausted from such a long drive.

On their second night they couldn’t find a town to rest at no matter how far they drove. McCoy pulled over to the side of the road and flicked on the overhead light, consulting his map. Spock leaned over to look as well, and they came to the same decision together.

“It’s too far,” McCoy said, folding the map and tucking it away. “At least another two hours.”

“It will be well after midnight before we arrive.”

McCoy looked at him. “The back seats fold down,” he suggested mildly. “It’d be cramped, but I don’t think I’m fit to drive much longer.”

Spock inclined his head in silent agreement.

They cleared out the back seat. It was fall; the night air was crisp and a bit cold. Spock folded down the seats while McCoy pulled out his blanket and pillow, seeing now the real problem with this plan.

“I only brought one of each,” he said. “Unless you’ve got one tucked away in your satchel, we’ll have to share.”

“I do not.”

McCoy nodded. “Here, you can have the pillow. The blanket’s pretty big. If I steal it in the night, just…elbow me or something.”

Spock seemed amused, but it was difficult to tell with only stars providing light.

They each turned around while the other slipped into pajamas, giving what privacy they could. With the seats down the space was just big enough for them to line down side-by-side. If McCoy stretched out fully his toes brushed the wall of the trunk. He folded his arm under his head and tried to get comfortable. Spock shuffled around getting comfortable. McCoy could feel the heat radiating off Spock’s body, nice and warm in the cold night. Half-consciously, he shifted a little closer.

“…Doctor,” Spock whispered after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“As you are the primary driver, perhaps you would like the pillow.”

His voice was so low and soothing, McCoy thought. He closed his eyes to better bask in the sound. “No, it’s alright. Wouldn’t want you to get a headache from sleeping wrong. I’ve seen how you act when your head hurts.”

“And I have seen you with a headache.”

He chuckled. “I suppose you’ve got me there.”

There was another pause, a bit longer this time. Just when McCoy thought Spock had dropped the issue, the Vulcan began to shift around again. There was the rustle of fabric against fabric and suddenly Spock’s warmth was a great deal closer. McCoy’s eyes flew open. Now adjusted to the light, he could see Spock’s outline in the starlight. He watched as Spock inched the pillow closer, so that his head was barely on one side, the other side an offering to McCoy.

McCoy gulped. “…You sure?”

“Quite.”

He inched closer. “I snore sometimes, you know.”

Spock sighed, long-suffering. “I am aware. We have shared a room every night for the previous two-and-a-half weeks.”

“It’s just—”

His argument was cut short as Spock’s hand settled on his hip. McCoy snapped his mouth shut, utterly floored by that light touch. Spock wasn’t pulling at him, or really doing much of anything, but the point of contact sparked fire beneath McCoy’s skin. He swallowed thickly and let his body do what it wanted, which was to fall against Spock.

They curled together beneath the blanket, their heads bent towards each other like curved question marks. McCoy didn’t know where to put his hands so he let them fold between their bodies, trying to maintain a faint and pointless distance. Spock’s arm twined around him, his hand resting more firmly against McCoy’s lower back, and his other arm slipped easily under McCoy’s head.

They were cuddling, definitely. It should have felt awkward, but it just felt right. Spock was warm and soft and it was easy for McCoy to bury his face against Spock’s neck and let out a sigh that made Spock shiver. He could smell Spock’s odd Vulcan cologne, a slightly spicy scent. Spock’s hand began to rub against his back soothingly, almost a pet, and McCoy concentrated on that small touch.

Spock soothed him to sleep, and McCoy could think of no better dream than this reality.

---

There were hundreds of bridges along the highway, and they stopped at most of them. Some were small enough to jump over, while others bridged huge gullies that made McCoy experience vertigo. They looked at water, more water than was on the entire surface of Vulcan, mapping all its different forms. At night, even if there was a hotel available, they pulled into whatever parking lot was around instead and folded down the back seat, and McCoy crawled into Spock’s waiting embrace.

They stopped at Delta Junction towards the end of the last day and just stood there, soaking in the beauty of this small, blue planet. Before them were kilometers of rewilded forest. Behind them, mountains jutted up over the horizon. McCoy lifted his head to the sun and felt warm despite the cold breeze.

“Nearly there,” he murmured.

“Yes.”

Spock came to stand beside him. Spock was often standing beside him, McCoy realized. He smiled at Spock, and Spock returned the look with a faint bend at the corner of his lips.

“Haven’t seen you writing in your datapadd in a while,” McCoy said quietly.

“I finished what I intended to write,” Spock said. “At a certain point further edits cease their usefulness.”

“Makes sense.” He turned back to the forest and spread his arms wide. It felt silly, but also perfectly right, to embrace the world in a tiny, human hug. “Oh, Spock,” he breathed. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“I have not. I believe the word you would use to describe it is ‘majestic.’”

“Too small a word.” McCoy turned and found Spock watching him, and he smiled. “Should we continue on? Fairbanks is just a couple hours away.”

Spock turned somber. “Indeed.”

The last few hours were quieter than the ones that had come before. Spock was in the passenger’s seat with his eyes closed, apparently meditating, and the datapadd on his lap but turned off. Every kilometer they passed something new and beautiful and McCoy felt his breath stolen from him again and again.

It was dark by the time they arrived in Fairbanks, and McCoy startled when Spock’s hand came to rest against his wrist.

“Stop here.”

McCoy pulled over and Spock climbed out of the shuttle car. McCoy followed him down a brick path to a small lookout over the river. Above them, the sky was bright and clear, inky black broken only by the white pinpricks of stars. Spock tipped his head toward the sky.

“This will do,” he declared, turning back to McCoy.

McCoy shifted his feet. “Do for what?”

In answer, Spock handed him the datapadd. Cautiously, McCoy accepted it, uncertain what he would find. He switched it on and read the first paragraph, then had to stop and go back to read it again, unable to process what he was seeing.

There were several pages and he flipped through them slowly, stunned by the prose Spock had spilled onto the page. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised; Spock had always had a way with words, after all. But this was almost…poetic. There was a depth McCoy knew Spock was capable of feeling, but hadn’t known Spock was capable of expressing.

“Spock, this is…”

“When I first arrived in Georgia,” Spock said, turning back to the sky. “I already planned to tell you, but I could not find the words.”

“Spock…”

“When I look at you, Leonard,” Spock said, visibly struggling to voice what he had already written on the page. “I feel…love.”

“Oh, Spock.”

“I look at you and see the future. One where I might be with you, and have you be with me. I would like, very much, to become the person you could find yourself loving.”

“Goddammit.” McCoy swiped at his eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

Spock looked miffed. “If my confession offends you—”

“No! Just—dammit, c’mere you.” He reached out and took Spock’s hand. “I already love you, you foolish, beautiful Vulcan.”

Spock seemed surprised, and then inordinately pleased. “Indeed?”

“I figured it was pretty obvious, what with the cuddling. But maybe I need to say it in a way you can’t misconstrue. I just spent over three weeks in a car with you and didn’t want to pull my hair out or bite your head off. We’ve battled great evil together. We fight and I…like it, okay? I like you, and I want to be with you in all the mushy romantic ways you wrote here.” He held up the padd. “Honestly, Spock, it’s like you were reading my damned mind about some of this stuff. You weren’t, were you?”

Spock shook his head. He seemed incapable of speech.

McCoy grinned. “Guess it’s just proof we’re good together.” He tightened his grip and tugged Spock closer. “Why wait until Fairbanks to say it?”

“I…was not brave.”

“Not very logical of you.”

“This feeling is not logical,” Spock said seriously. “And it is the only feeling I have ever had which I choose to embrace fully.”

McCoy’s breath caught. “Oh. It’s like that, is it?”

“It is.”

They were standing awfully close now, almost as close as Spock had held him last night, when their legs had tangled together and Spock had run his hand through McCoy’s hair.

“Leonard.”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“May I kiss you?”

“Hell. Absolutely. Thought you’d never—”

Spock stole the rest of his sentence, and his breath, and McCoy’s knees went weak and he dropped the padd. He fell against Spock and Spock caught him, warm and firm and strong. They had traveled together across the galaxy, and then over a quarter of Earth, but suddenly the entire Universe had narrowed down to two small points of light. As they met beneath the sky all that mattered was each other.

He felt Spock’s hand come up to cup the side of his face, and he tilted to deepen the connection. Spock was sweet and soft, and McCoy felt like he was flying.

When they pulled apart McCoy was dazed, and he didn’t know how much time had passed. Spock traced the bone of his cheek with one calloused thumb, a faint smile on his lips that McCoy yearned to taste.

“Shall we retire for the evening, Leonard?” Spock said softly.

“R-right, absolutely.” He took a step away and then turned back, picking up the dropped datapadd. “Let’s get a real room, though. Cuddling in the backseat of a car is fine, but we aren’t teenagers.”

Spock’s eyes were bright with mirth. “I agree. I would very much like to hold you again tonight.”

“Dammit, Spock,” McCoy whispered. “You can’t just say things like that. Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

“I have some idea.” Spock sidled close as they walked back to the shuttle car together. “For it is the same thing which you do to me.”

McCoy bumped Spock’s shoulder, feeling giddy. It was almost physically painful to separate the few inches necessary to climb back into the shuttle car, but once there Spock reached out and took McCoy’s hand. McCoy held him back tightly, unwilling and unable to hide his expansive grin.

After going all that distance it was less than a kilometer to the final hotel, and only a single flight of stairs to the room. Spock pulled him inside and into a kiss, shutting the door firmly behind them. It may have been the journey that had gotten them here, but McCoy found he quite liked the destination as well.

#12DaysofSpones #spones