pure grit

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Today I went shoe shopping! (And discovered we have a half marathon this Sunday in Houston) Bummed I have school that day!

I finally decided to try a more obstacle-appropriate running shoe. Rather than going with favorites like Inov8, Icebug or Reebok, I’m trying something a little different– Brooks, Pure Grit! (Good name) I shall report back as to whether or not this was a good decision. My favorite Salomon trail running/50k shoes are a bit wide for OCR. But sooooo comfy on long, rough hills.

i just can’t deny a good prompt

based on this post right here because oh my god

In art, winged, humanoid creatures were often romanticized, being depicted as angelic, ethereal beings, which was all well and good, right up until one didn’t make the quota.

Glanni, for one, loathed his wings; those shriveled, papery nuisances hanging from between his shoulder blades had never brought him joy, because it wasn’t as if they would ever warrant any happy feelings. They were ugly, plain and simple, and undeniably a mistake of nature.

Some time ago, Glanni had tried to rid himself of them. Using nothing but a switchblade and pure grit, he’d hacked away at the base of his wings, but found that they were firmly in place. Though he pressed on all the same, the pain became too blinding, too overpowering to continue, and he’d been left shaking on his bedroom floor, waiting to regain the strength to perhaps make a second attempt.

After that particular incident, he had stood in front of his mirror, back facing the glass so as to measure the damage he had done. Frustratingly enough, it was very little, the only apparent effects being the blood caking his skin along with multiple tears in the wrong parts due to bad aim. It was then that Glanni gave up on ever tearing them out, resorting to keeping them permanently tucked away until further notice. It hurt to have them crushed into him by his catsuit’s force, but there was nothing else he was willing to do.

He must’ve not been thinking when he unzipped the fabric despite Ithro standing directly with him. Glanni could only assume he was so distracted by the anticipation of relieving his wings of the constant weight pressed against them that he never stopped to wonder whether or not it was a good idea. Before he knew any better, he heard Ithro’s sharp inhale behind him, sending him in a frenzy to cover back up again before anything else happened.

“Who told you you could look?” Glanni spat venomously, turning around to face the other man as he furiously redid his zipper. His face was painted an indignant red, a side effect from holding back tears. It’d been a long time since he’d snapped at Ithro like this without reason, and it had also been a long time since he had felt this vulnerable.

“Glanni, what-” Ithro stammered, struggling to understand the sudden hostility whilst also trying to process what he was seeing.

“Shut up!” Glanni clapped his hands onto his ears, something he tended to do when he was overwhelmed and didn’t want to listen anymore. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid crying. His body was stiff as he stood, back hunched and knees pressed together.

Ithro didn’t try to speak again just then, instead approaching him in a cautious manner, being sure that his kind intentions were clear by holding his hands up in a submissive stance. Glanni eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t back away, encouraging Ithro to keep going.

“It’s okay,” he said gently, and put his hands on either of Glanni’s shoulders, which tensed briefly before relaxing once more. Ithro listened to his ragged breathing, rubbing his shoulders with the palms of his hands to get him in a calm state.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” Glanni choked out, clutching the fabric of Ithro’s shirt with trembling fingers. “I never wanted this to happen, and I- and I’m so sorry if I misled you or something because I didn’t mean to.”

“Misled me?”

Yes. I never told you, and I never meant to.”

“And I never meant to scare you so much to make you think that this isn’t all alright.” Ithro stepped back a bit in spite of Glanni’s protesting hands and made gesture directed towards his suit. “Why don’t you get comfortable?”

Glanni seemed to think for a minute, glassy eyes looking to nothing in particular, then he gave a watery smile. “I guess I might as well,” he said, uncharacteristic shyness creeping into his tone as he undid his zipper, allowing the material to fall and his unloved wings to stretch out properly.

They were more than Ithro could have ever prepared for. Though they were damaged horrendously, there were still hints within their structure that they could have grown into something tremendous, but several removal attempts left them battered at best. He still thought them to be beautiful, as they were a part of someone who was everything that word held and then some.

“I don’t know what you were so afraid of,” Ithro murmured in wonder, grazing his fingertips along his wing’s outline, being careful not to go over any sensitive piece if he could avoid it. “These are amazing, but what happened to them?”

Temporarily lost in the soothing sensation of his wings getting touched in a delicate fashion for the first time, Glanni took awhile to respond. Now that he could tell he wasn’t going to get screamed at, hurt, or abandoned, he didn’t feel like discussing such things anymore.

“I didn’t want them.” He was reluctant to speak, letting himself be led to his mattress and onto Ithro’s lap where he continued to fondle those hated appendages. As much as Glanni wished them to be gone, it was nice to have them caressed that way. “I hate them. They’re awful.”

“That’s just not true,” Ithro countered quietly, adjusting his position to accommodate Glanni’s weight sinking into him as he loosened his muscles. “You might hate them, but they’re not awful.”

“Are you saying that you don’t?”

“Why would I? I love everything about you, these too.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Glanni groaned.

“I’m not, you just don’t understand yet, and I’ll help you.”

“You aren’t going to give up,” and while Glanni tried to make it sound like a for certain statement, his inquiring tone outed his anxiety.

“Not a chance.”

Grovel for Forgiveness

A/N: A request from @gnarlytricksbro where the reader has hidden her life before the BAU from the team and refuses to share her past with them, tells Garcia not to snoop, but they do and she goes off on them. @coveofmemories

                                                           —–

No one knew of her reason for coming to the Bureau. And she wanted to keep it that way. It’s not like it was this big secret, but she didn’t feel like bringing it up out of nowhere. If it came up, it came up, and if it didn’t, then she didn’t want people snooping around to find out the answer.

Y/N’s history was fraught with trauma, but through it all she’d made it into the Bureau. Through pure grit and determination, she managed to defy all odds and obtain the job she’d always wanted. Now six months into her work with the Bureau, she would consider herself close with her teammates. The only problem was, that as a profiler, people consciously or unconsciously wanted to know everything about a person so they could figure them out. Y/N would constantly field questions about where she came from before moving to DC, but she’d give them just enough of an answer to get them to let it go.

“Come on, Y/N,” Garcia whined. “I feel like we love you and know you, but we don’t really know you, you know?” 

“What’s to know?!” she exclaimed. All that mattered was that she was a good person, she did her job well, she loved her friends with all her heart. What did it matter if they knew what happened in her past? “Garcia, all you need to know is that I love you all.”

With that, she left for the day. She’d been trying to get a doctor’s appointment for months now, so when she finally got one, she asked Hotch if she could leave early. As she walked into the elevator, Garcia sighed. “I just feel like we don’t really know her. Like, what if she’s a spy?”

“Just because I basically used to be a spy doesn’t mean that Y/N is,” Emily laughed. It would be highly unlikely for two members of the BAU to be former spies. “Although it is curious.”

“Right?!” Garcia said excitedly. “It’s just weird. We know absolutely nothing about her life before. Only who she is now.”

“I mean that’s really all that matters right?” Spencer asked. “We don’t care what happened in Emily’s former life, so why should Y/N’s case be any different. I would just leave it alone.”

As Morgan, Rossi, Garcia, JJ and Emily made their way to Garcia’s office, Spencer backed out. “I don’t want to have anything to do with this. She obviously wants to keep something private, so I’m not going to search into her background if she doesn’t want us to.”

“I respect that,” Emily said. “But something is gnawing at me, so I guess we’re going to try and figure out what she’s hiding.”

While Spencer returned to his desk to do paperwork and Hotch worked in his office, the rest of the team went to Garcia’s office. “Should we really be doing this?” JJ asked.

Garcia typed away on the keyboard, booting up her systems as they debated whether or not to look her up. Morgan and Garcia were especially interested in what Y/N was hiding. “As curious as I am, I don’t think I can do this,” JJ said, walking out of the room.

“Okay, here we go,” Garcia said, typing Y/N’s name into the search engine. The first things to pop up related to her work with he Bureau, getting accepted at such a young age, her degrees from Harvard and Cornell; she was extremely accomplished. But as she dug deeper, Garcia feared they found what she was hiding. “Oh my god.”

“What is it babygirl?”

Her eyes started to tear as she read from the article she found. “Y/F/N Y/L/N, age 10, and younger sister, Michelle, were found cowering in her closet after a masked intruder broke into the family home, stabbing both parents to death. Sources say the young girls were too afraid to come out of the closet for three days until a neighbor came in to check on the family. There are no suspects at this time.”

“Fuck…” Emily said. “That was barely more than a decade ago.” Y/N was only 21 years old. A little younger than Spencer was when he joined the Bureau - the youngest to date.

“That’s probably why she wanted to join the Bureau,” Morgan sighed, suddenly feeling the guilt over looking through her personal life. “She’s probably hoping to track down the monster who killed her parents.”

“We can’t forget we saw this, can we?” Garcia asked. She’d said not to, Spencer and JJ said they couldn’t do it, Hotch probably would’ve yelled at them, but they’d done it anyway and now they knew something they really shouldn’t.

“No, I don’t think we can.”

                                                          —–

The next day, Morgan, Garcia, Emily and Rossi felt the weight of their guilt. Hotch had no clue, and Spencer and JJ didn’t ask what the four had found. 

“Hello,” Y/N said as she walked into the Bureau that morning. “We have a case yet?”

“I think so,” Spencer replied, “Hotch is in his office right now.” For profilers, the four offenders were not good at hiding what they knew. None of them would make eye contact with her.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why is everyone being so quiet?”

“N-No reason,” Garcia said. Rossi, Emily and Morgan rolled their eyes. It was always Garcia that blew it. “Just t-tired.”

“For profilers, you guys really suck at this,” she said. “What is it?”

“It’s just…” Morgan started wanting to take some of the blame off of Garcia. After all, she wasn’t the only one to look into Y/N’s past. “We found something out about you.”

A look of recognition flashed across her eyes before she burst. “You what?!” she screamed. “You looked into my past? What the hell is the matter with you? I told you not to!” The heat rose to her face as Spencer and JJ said nothing and Hotch walked back into the room.

“Told them not to do what? What’s going on here?” he asked, upon seeing Y/N so angry and hurt. 

“They looked into my past!” she screamed. “I told them not to and they did it anyway!”

Emily spoke up, trying to calm her down. “We just had a feeling.”

“What kind of feeling? What the fuck does my background have to do with anything?” she screamed, her eyes brimming with tears. “Fantastic. Well now you know.”

“We don’t,” Spencer said quietly, pointing between him and JJ.

“So it was the four of you?”

They all nodded their heads guiltily. “Y/N,” Rossi said, “We’re sorry.”

“Cool,” she said hotly, “Well considering four of you know, the rest of you might as well. I was 10 and my sister, Michelle, was 5 when someone came into my home and stabbed my parents to death. To this day, he’s still out there. Now you know my big secret! How would you like it if I dug into your days with Interpol, Em? Or Rossi how about your ex-wives, will I find something interesting there? What about Morgan? You want someone digging into your past? Or you Garcia? Hotch, as long as I’m not needed immediately, I’ll meet you on the jet, because if I stay here, I’m going to say something I’m going to regret.”

“We’ll see you on the jet in an hour,” he said quietly as she rushed passed him, her eyes overflowing with tears. “You looked into her past?”

“Reid and JJ didn’t,” Garcia said. “The rest of us did. We just thought she was hiding something, maybe something that could’ve hurt us or the Bureau or something.”

Hotch sighed as he sat down at the table. “I should really suspend the four of you for doing what you did, but we have a case. When we get on the jet though, you all need to apologize and grovel for forgiveness.”

“I don’t know,” Morgan said, as his eyes fluttered closed, “I don’t think I would forgive us.”

“You better hope she does.”

Originally posted by hobolunchbox

A friend showed me Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior today. I liked it a good deal; might even prefer it to Mad Max: Fury Road, though I did miss Furiosa. I like the mix of pure grit and pure camp. The chase scenes aren’t as impressive as the later movie, but they are still tense and exciting. The reason for my possibly going more for this movie over the other one is that I prefer the pacing here: it’s a bit slower and the chase is at the end of the movie, rather than at high-velocity throughout. It’s less exhausting. Not to say that FR is bad—not at all—and objectively it’s probably a better film, but I just liked RW more.

Originally posted by twistedmovies

Also, my blu-ray copy of Wait Until Dark finally came in today! I did my waiting for this shipment—three weeks! I’m hoping to watch it when everyone else goes to bed, and there’s nothing but me, this movie, and the dark, quiet household.

To Be A Winchester

Pairing: Sam & Dean x Reader (Little Sister), Jody, Claire, Alex

Word Count: 2955

Warnings: Mention of death, mention of cancer, loss of parents

A/N: Here’s to compensate for being a bit absent lately! I’m thinking of making this a long series but only if it gets enough love. Hope y’all like it <3

Originally posted by spnfans

Three years ago, you lost your mother to cancer. And with her being the bearer of bad news, she used her last dying breaths to tell you that your father, wasn’t your father. That you were conceived in some gross bathroom in the back of some bar in Oklahoma. Thankfully, she got a name by the time she pulled her skirt back down.

His name was John Winchester.

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If you guys want to know what it’s like having a learning disability then you can look at Naruto, he is an amazing metaphor for having one Learning disability but if you guys want to know what it’s like to have multiple learning disabilities then Rock Lee is an amazing metaphor. His Constant struggle to not fall behind let alone move forward is the realist thing. The fact that he has to live with his handy caps and that they never go away or lessen over time. How he self admittedly has to work 2 times 3 times 4 times harder then his peers and that everyone else knows it too. He gets though all of this shit by pure will power and grit. He learns how to make the best out of what he has and he makes his goals obtainable. As a person who’s grown up with multiple learning disabilities and ADHD and dyslexia I wish I would’ve paid more attention to Lee as a kid. Lee is so important because wail he isn’t well off he makes himself into something amazing and unlike anybody else. I’m glad at almost 18 years old I’m finally able to appreciate Lee. I’m glad I see a bit of Rock Lee in myself because I’m damn proud to be a loser with no natural born talent. I’m proud to be like Rock Lee; someone who becomes great through hard work.

Three episode reviews: Battery and Days

This season, there are two anime about sports and both of them are kinda under the radar. In case you’re wondering, here’s a little double feature mini review, based on the first three episodes of each show.


Days

Sport: Soccer. Yay! Finally a sport I, European chick, am familiar with.

Well, I say soccer, but it’s mostly about running.

What it’s about: Tsukushi is a loser who randomly gets invited to a soccer match by genius player Kazama. He decides to join the school team and GIT GUD on pure grit alone.

First impression: Days has the absolute WORST opening episode I’ve ever seen in a sports anime. It was so bland and formulaic that I have been reduced to ranting at people about it. The episode felt super flat. It gives ZERO motivation for Tsukushi to do the things he does. And there’s certainly no reason given for Kazama to be that into him. It was so boring I had to click away halfway through to do something else before getting back to it. You can tell me that all of this is explained properly in the manga, but in that case it’s not a very good adaptation.

Second impression: Well, I have a three episode rule and it gets better. Quite a bit better, in fact, and after three episodes I’m kinda into it. The show has a wonky and completely random sense of humour, which I appreciate. Kazama is a gift. I like the variety in characterisation of the players and how some of them are regular teenage asshats. Tsukiuhi has to endure some pretty heavy verbal abuse which is probably meant to build up his character, but is also painfully brutal in making me relive some of my worst teenage nightmares.

While Kazama is a gift, he’s also a little shit.

Favourite dude: Half of the cast is super hot, while the other is really weirdly drawn? But Kazama is, hands down, the best character. He is very cute and he has that cocky rebel thing going, with a whiff of genius ennui thrown in. To top it off, he’s also channeling the ‘fabulous beautiful character who’s very aware of his beauty’ vibe (see also: Kise, Oikawa). I already adore the hell out of him. He rocks that Bruce Lee jumpsuit, man.

Gayness? This show is almost meta-gay. Like it knows sports anime is supposed to be very straight and also very gay. It’s become self aware. There’s a lot of shots of Kazama looking longingly at Tsukushi and the both of them are immediately ready to lay down their lives to defend each other. And then there’s the scenes in which Kazama professes his love for boobs. It’s a pansexual show.

Extra time: This show feels like it’s trying to push all the buttons. Like, trying real hard. It has the random sex talk for the male viewers, the bishis for the female viewers and people just straight up tripping over air for the younger audience. It’s all a bit too formulaic, but it’s much better than the first episode makes it appear.

Yay or nay? Let’s be honest, Days is not nearly as good as something like Haikyuu, but it’s still worth a watch. I’m interested in where it’s gonna go, storywise.


Battery

Sport: Baseball. Not, as the title may lead you to believe, some kind of blood sport.

No, I don’t know anyone called Haru, why do you ask?

What it’s about: Harada is 13 and already a famous pitcher with ’genius complex’, where he doesn’t feel like he belongs. He moves to a different region, finds a really good catcher and joins a new team, all while dealing with whatever it is that makes him such an angry little shit (my money is on puberty).

First impression: This show is so pretty and melancholy! The pace is very slow, with a lot of focus on family members and feelings and shit. If you want a reference: it’s like a baseball version of Free, in terms of storytelling (and also themes).

Second impression: I really like how much they focus on the support system of these kids: the grandfather, the deeply worried moms. Battery is very emotional and it’s really more of a drama about people playing sports than it is a traditional 'sports anime’. The team members don’t even come into view until episode three. There are no attempts at humour, childish or otherwise. If I have to label it, it’s a show about teenage rebellion. Harada is obviously dealing with some shit and he has that bored sounding voice to back it up (same voice actor as Tsukki!).

Did I mention the pretty?

Favourite dude: Nagakura. While Harada is definitely 'the cute one’, Nagakura is just such a gorgeous personality. He’s a genuinely wonderful person and I support that.

Gayness? This is a middle school show, so the relationship overtones are mercifully low key. I’m not getting a lot of gay, really, mostly good old fashioned blossoming friendship.

Extra time: I’m actually rather impressed that they chose a middle school setting, cause those are pretty rare. It certainly gives a different perspective and probably explains the focus on family. Most sports anime start with full teenagers that are already pre-fucked up by both puberty *and* whatever happened to them in middle school. This one shows you exactly how that goes.

Yay or nay? I really like it. A lot. I have no idea where this show is going but it’s pretty much sucked me in. I just hope no one dies.

a midnight snack

it twinges at a few of yoongi’s heartstrings to see jimin try so hard, to push himself above and beyond his limits to become what the company wants him to be.

and it’s not that everyone else doesn’t try as hard either. far from it, each and every member works so very hard to better themselves, to do their best to be everything that their fans deserve to see. all of them always try to be at the top of their game, if not for themselves, then especially for their fans.

but for every ounce of effort any given member throws in, jimin, without question, commits three, five times as much.

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Parks and Recreation begins airing its final season on NBC January 13, 2015.  Over the past seven years, we have grown to love and care deeply about these amazingly crafted characters.  We laughed when Ron explained how the government functions to a 4th grade girl, rooted for Leslie to take down the pesky Greg Pikitis, had fun treatin’ ourselves with Donna and Tom, and cried tears of joy when Ben finally dropped down on one knee to propose to Leslie.  This graphic is a swan song dedicated to one of the greatest television comedies of all time.  We will miss you greatly Parks and Rec. However, in the meantime, check out some of these resources that we think your favorite characters would read or watch.

Leslie Knope

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

Promises to Keep: On Life and Politics by Joe Biden

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

The West Wing

Ben Wyatt

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin

The Boy Who Loved Batman: A Memoir: The True Story of How a Comics-Obsessed Kid Conquered Hollywood to Bring the Dark Knight to the Silver Screen by Michael Uslan

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back

Twin Peaks

Ron Swanson

The Call of the Wild by Jack London

American Whiskey, Bourbon, & Rye: A Guide to the Nation’s Favorite Spirit by Clay Risen

The Bridge on the River Kwai

Band of Brothers

April Ludgate

Geek Love by Katherine Dunn

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach

Battle Royale

Dog Whisperer

Ann Perkins

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

Pure Grit: How American World War II Nurses Survived Battle and Prison Camp in the Pacific by Mary Cronk Farrell

Fed Up

Getting On

Tom Haverford

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Empire State of Mind: How Jay-Z Went From Street Corner to Corner Office by Zack O'Malley Greenburg

The Wolf of Wall Street

Keeping Up With the Kardashians

Donna Meagle

Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James

Next Generation Real Estate: New Rules for Smarter Home Buying and Faster Selling by Brendon DeSimone

Twilight

Scandal

Andy Dwyer

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

The Secrets of the FBI by Ronald Kessler

The Expendables

Reno 911

Chris Traeger

The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick

Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall

Food, Inc

Man Vs. Wild

 

anonymous asked:

Prompt: ballet master and former star Gold. Up and coming prima ballerina Belle

Rolled a 6 on this one which means: 30 minutes to write!

 (EEK- WAIT I HAVE NO IDEA ANYTHING ABOUT BALLET)


There was a girl in his studio.

No, not a girl, a woman, he amended, watching her from the shadows of the hallway.

It was nearly midnight, the rest of the school long since closed. Gold often worked late, preferring the stillness of Storybrooke Arts and Sciences High School in the evening. He only taught one semester every few years, that old deal he had made with Principal Regina Mills still haunting him.

He moved to tell her it was time to leave. He didn’t like the idea of someone in his space at the best of times, and the school wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods. Before he could call out, before he could cross the threshold, the woman’s head snapped up. Her arms went over her head, and her toes went en pointe as if strings had pulled her into position.

Gol stilled. There was no music playing in the quiet night, just the noise of the streets outside trickling in through the windows. The lights were dim, but he could see her clearly from the streetlamp shining in from outside. She stayed perfectly motionless, like a figure in music box.

She was petite, rare for a ballet dancer but not unheard of. He had been one of the shortest in his company, and it had only been on pure skill and grit that he had managed to secure the leading roles opposite the tall, willowy prima ballerinas the choreographer preferred.

The woman suddenly shuffled to the left, four quick steps, the blocks in her slippers clunking across the hard surface. Gold winced, the sound reminding him of bloody toes and cracked nails. The ballerina did not seem to mind. Her eyes were closed, face serene as she her arms reached out to her invisible partner.

He watched her solo, taking note of the muscle control, the rhythm of her breath, the stillness of her core and the serene, peaceful face. To be honest, he was paying rather too much attention to the face. He scolded himself as he began to wonder what color her eyes were.

As if she had heard him, she fell into a curtsey, blue eyes glittering up at him in amusement as she peered at him from under her lashes. “So, Mr. Gold,” she said, her voice rich with an Australian accent. “What did you think?”

He stepped inside the room, his cane making the same thudding noises as her pointe slippers. Her eyes did not go directly to his cane like most dancers did, those looks of pity and nervous apprehension galled him more than anything.

“Passable,” he said, which was high praise as any ballet dancer would agree. “You are?”

“Belle,” the woman said, holding out her hand. He took it in his own, pressing it lightly before releasing it. “I’m the new ballet instructor.”

Gold nodded. “Regina mentioned she had found a replacement for Mary Margaret,” he said. “I didn’t realize you had started.”

“Tomorrow’s my first day,” Belle said, with a nervous laugh. “I talked the janitor into letting me in to set up, but,” she gestured helplessly to the dark studio, “I couldn’t pass up a chance to test out the space first.”

Gold’s lips twisted into a knowing smile. “We do have cd players here,” he said, pointing over to the electronic equipment on the far side of the room.

She laughed. “I’m afraid I got carried away in the moment,” she confessed.

He could make out their reflections in the large mirror that took up the hallway side wall. They were a similar height, and he let himself wish Belle had been around when he was in his prime. He may very well have enjoyed a dance with her.

She caught his eyes in the mirror. As if she had known what he was thinking, she reached out a hand to him. He chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down at his injured leg. “I’m afraid I don’t dance anymore,” he said softly. “Doctor’s orders.”

Belle’s hand remained outstretched. “Just stand still then,” she suggested. “Let me lead.”

He opened his mouth, growing annoyed but before he spit some scathing reply out, her hand rested lightly on his cane head over his own left hand. Moving slowly as if not to spook him, she lowered, one leg raising up behind her in a graceful arc.

His body responded. His free hand gripped her forearm, and taking small but deliberate steps that would not pain his injury, he guided her into a spin, their eyes locked.

They danced for a quarter of an hour before the janitor found them, grumbling about artist types and asking them to get a move on already so he could lock up for the night.

Before she could escape into the night, he asked her if she might like a ride back to her hotel.

Instead, he woke up in the morning with a ballerina in his bed and a smile on his face.

It would remain there for the entire semester.

He had finally found his partner.