foxghost said: seems to be the latest trend though - have you seen Big History? big effects. Big zoom ins and outs.
Yeah. I LIKE historical stuff and I don’t even bother watching any history or nature programs anymore. They’re all artificially dramatic, from graphics to the super high intensity voiceover. I miss the science progamming from when I was a kid. *sulks* *tells these newfangled tv execs to get off her lawn*
teadrinkingdragon said: Yeah, I thought it was okay. But not great. And I admit I kind of nodded off at the end.
My husband seemed to like it okay, and it wasn’t bad. What content was there was interesting. But there was like, only 12 minutes of content in an hour of show. Even counting that half of the time was spent on commercials, that’s still 12 minutes of content and 18 minutes of Dramatic Graphics and Neil trying to look seriously into a greenscreen.
vieralynn said: Neil deGrasse Tyson fan here Bummed with you news — I haven’t yet seen Cosmos but have been curious about it. Hopefully it get better? *fingers crossed*
Mine too. we set up a season pass on the tivo, so I guess we’ll find out!
Just watched Cosmos (we recorded it). My reaction: meh.
I wanted to watch Neil deGrasse Tyson be awesome about science, not see him standing on a soundstage reacting to things that weren’t there. He’s a scientist, not an actor. Let him science!
They even kept their references to the scientific method oblique, so no one would think they were being forced to learn anything. “Don’t listen to that — look, we have a spaceship! And a film quality soundtrack! We’ve paid for them by giving 50% of our air time to commercials!”
I’m hoping this was an audience grab attempt for the introduction, and that later episodes will be heavier on the science. We’ll see.
I do so love your Isabela. And I cannot believe I’m even admitting this because I do not go out of my way to read smut usually, but if you ever got the urge to write NSFW Isabela/Varric, I would not ever complain.
You liked to tease him about his chest hair, claimed itchy fingers and wandering eyes more than once.
Or possibly a dozen times.
You do enjoy a good tease, after all.
The night you actually get your hands on him, however, you linger instead along the line of his jaw, fingers curling ‘til stubble catches beneath your nails, ‘til he lifts his chin, a hum to his breath and his eyes half closed, lids heavy, as for once his clever eyes and cleverer tongue both still, quiet in the firelight.
These are my irrational beliefs:
That I don’t belong here. I mean the general here, the everywhere all at once here. I think this is a symptom of spending better than half your life in deep in solitude— the pines, the sandstone and the quartzite, the mountain mahogany, the distant stag on a rainy hillside are all so natural to themselves, and you understand gently that you belong nowhere.
That I spent all of my magic and good luck on finding you. These are the only love stories that I know how to tell— people who make engines out of sheer will to pull them through an endless mire of bad choices and bad luck, and keep the fire for themselves. I never held myself apart, I took my lovers where they were and left them lay, and I knew enough to know that a broken heart is just another kind of bruise.
But all the time, I was building a bower that became a burning monument, without a name, pulling pieces of luck out from here and there, and setting them alight to look for you. I know this because you’re the only thing that ever came out right. The only thing. I poured all my fortune, faith and hope into you, and I have no regret.
That you will leave me walking around with a sucking wound in my chest, in a wasteland of strangers. You’re poisoning yourself day by day, and I know that love isn’t enough. It never was. You got here before me, and you’re speeding towards the exit, and I know the sharp edge of time, I know how it wanders and twists on itself. I’ve folded in the extra years because I was leaving too—
You’re going to leave me here with the fire I built for you. And this isn’t the story that I like to tell, where the end isn’t the end. Where the lovers can find each other again, and over and over. I don’t belong anywhere, and I’m not coming back.
And you can’t hear it in the flutter of my heart at night, when I roll over to make sure you’re still breathing. But it beats out wait a while, wait awhile, wait for me. You’re my only shelter here, and you can’t leave me when I’m finally warm.
Oh, Sehn. This is beautiful. I love the way you write.