#I just want to honor your words and give you a reply worth the essay you wrote lolll which I’ve read over so many times I could probably

[groundbreakingdot872]

JOAN!!!! 💕 I was coming by your blog to see how u were - glad to see you!! I thought I wasn’t seeing you bc I’ve been busy irl, but no we were just In-Active In-Sync (that feels like the name for a parody 90s boy band) ANYWAY HI MISSED U 🥰

HIII RENNN 💕💕💕

we were literally parodying In-Active In-Sync for a minute there… although I hear you play a great guitar riff so I’m not very worried ;)

I MISSED YOU TOO 💗😭

I feel like I’ve been missing for a century and a half but honestly that’s kinda on brand for this fandom so let’s take that as a win haha

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Billy & Stu (1/4)

Word count ; 4.1k

*Edited.

Yet another summer was being spent at the arcade, and I could only hope it would be the last before I was finally off to trade school or something. I wasn’t going to pretend to be one of those ‘fixed’ students who suddenly got good grades their senior year and worked up a sob story for their personal essay. I wasn’t that desperate. I was just realistic. I wanted to do something realistic, maybe become a car mechanic or trucker, something that’ll always have jobs available. Something that would let me live a life under the radar.

But ‘living life under the radar’ was what I hadn’t been doing during high school. I doomed myself back in ninth grade on my first day by punching one of the school’s pretentious bitches when they decided to pick on me. And momma didn’t raise no bitch, so whenever anyone tried to mess with me, I’d slap ‘em silly. And that made a reputation. I was the scary loner ‘bad girl’ who nobody was supposed to talk to. It was worth it, though, if it meant people didn’t have high expectations.

I sighed as I removed my hands from the joystick of the classic Pac-Man machine. My name - PoketNife - was still only fourth, so one of my few goals from the summer was to at least reach second place. Whoever was at first, BBear, was way out of everyone’s league. I had no clue how they reached that high when second place was almost half of the score. Was cheating possible?

I checked my cheap dollar store watch and realized I still had at least an hour before I had to go to work. I was also out of change, so I couldn’t play anymore. Dammit. Guess there was nothing more to do than loiter and maybe get a snack.

I walked up to the snack bar and leaned against it. A tall, elfish boy with brown hair and looked like a real-life version of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo sent me a grin. “Salt and vinegar potato chips, please,” I requested politely, taking a seat.

“Comin’ right up!” he replied, grabbing a bag from under before tossing it to me. “Two-fifty.”

I passed over the bills, muttering, “Thanks.”

He didn’t move way, though. Instead, he leaned an arm on the counter to inspect me. “You’re Y/n, right? We’ve been in the same school since, like, seventh grade, you know.”

I held back an annoyed groan. “…Yeah. What’s it to you?”

“Damn, no need to be cold. I’m Stu, by the way.” He had an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh. Hi, Stu.” I plopped some chips into my mouth. My mouth dropped, agape when Stu reached his hand in and took a handful out. “Dude, I fuckin’ paid for these!”

“Technically, you didn’t. I gave you a discount. The chips cost three dollars,” he cheekily retorted.

“You could have at least asked,” I grumbled, holding the bag to my chest instead.

If he cared, then it wasn’t enough to respond to what I said. “You know, I’ve noticed that you’ve played most of the games. But, uh, you haven’t even touched Dance Dance Revolution. I bet I could beat your ass.”

My cheeks reddened a bit. “I’m not a good dancer,” I defended. “But from the looks of it, neither are you. You have the resting bitch face of a stoner.”

Stu faked a pout. “I’m hurt. Let me defend my honor by challenging you to a dance battle.”

“You’re working.”

“And you’re a pussy.”

I inhaled sharply. “Fuckin’ fine. Don’t blame me when you lose your job, Stuart.”

He let out a girlish giggle and exited the snack bar. “You remember my name! I’m flattered, babe. But Stu’s fine.” Without any concern for my personal space, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me over to the arcade machine.

I wasn’t confident in my abilities since I was a rather sluggish person in general, but I didn’t do too bad. Usually I’d be more walled up, but I had an hour to spend and this guy felt like wasting it. Not to mention, he paid for my turn. My footwork was sloppy, even on a basic level, but it was pretty fun, even though I was stumbling over my feet. Stu’s charisma was contagious, I’d give him that.

On Stu’s turn, though, I couldn’t help but cheer him on a bit. I should’ve known he’d be an unsuspecting champion — there were so many games and he chose dance dance revolution, so it made sense he’d be good at it. He chose one of the hardest levels and absolutely killed it. It was probably him trying to show off, but surprisingly, I didn’t mind.

He’d broken a bit of a sweat by the time he stepped off the platform, his affectionate grin still present. “I think I kicked your ass,” he giggled.

I leaned against the rails. “Obviously. Next time, it’ll have to be my game, though. Which is pretty much any other game in the room.”

He let out a dramatic gasp. “Next time?”

I crossed my arms and pursed my lips. “…Not that there needs to be. My tongue slipped.”

I tensed when his hands clamped down on my shoulders. “Aw, didn’t think you’d get all shy,” he cooed, but it didn’t seem mocking.

“Fuckin’ not. Watch it, or my fist won’t be too shy of your face,” I grumbled, shrugging him off. “I gotta go.”

He pouted. “Oh, fine. See ya tomorrow, babe, can’t wait for you to kick my ass at Donkey Kong.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I waved to him nonchalantly over my shoulder as I left, not glancing back.

And as much as I would have wanted to say that Stu was annoying - he certainly was at first - he had grown on me. For weeks, my normal routine of playing at the arcade all by my lonesome was disturbed because, somehow, Stu always intervened. The boy managed to grow on me with time, and although I hated to admit it, he hadn’t given me a reason to dislike him. He was clingy and loud, but those traits grew on me.

So, I couldn’t help but accept when Stu invited me out to grab some ice cream. I pretended to be a bit reluctant to accept, but in reality, I should’ve been. After all, when I walked through the local diner’s to see that it wasn’t just Stu, I was a little terrified. He didn’t mention that there’d be others. But by the time I was about to turn tail and leave, Stu had called out my name.

I shoved my hands in my pockets as I strode forward. “Uh… hey, Stuart.”

I took a moment to see who else was at the table. A girl with dark brown hair and a gorgeous jawline smiled politely at me. Her posture was uptight and correct—something only a good girl would have— but she still had casual attire of jeans and a t-shirt. The man with his arm wrapped around her shoulders made me especially nervous though. He had styled hair that seemed to be flooded with hair gel, a ripped white tank top, and toned arms that indicated that he was pretty active. He was staring me up and down like I was a piece of meat, and I recognized him as one of the members of the high school football team.

Stu gestured to his pals. “This is Sidney and Billy. I’ve mentioned ‘em before. Remember?” He eagerly grabbed me by the upper arm and pulled me into the booth to sit next to him.

“Yeah. Didn’t know they’d be here.”

Sidney offered up a kind hello, clearly on edge with my presence. Billy on the other hand, reached his hand over the table. “Hey there.” I stared at it incriminatingly, reluctantly reaching over. He had quite the crushing grip for a teen, but maybe that was a subliminal message to indicate distaste.

“Stuart, don’t tell me you invited me as a deterrent for their date?” I made sure to direct my displeasure at him instead of his… friends, since they—or at least Sidney—weren’t aware that I was invited.

Stu slung his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a suffocating side hug. “Nah. You just really need to make some other friends.”

I scowled and slapped his chest. “Fuck you.”

“He’s just as much of a bitch with us too,” Billy added.

While Stu was crying over his friend’s betrayal, I turned my attention to the couple. “‘Figured. You guys, uh, don’t mind me being here, do ya?”

“N - not at all! I was just surprised,” Sidney insisted. “You’re Y/n, right? We haven’t actually, um, talked before.”

“I’m aware,” I retorted. “Not much of a talker.”

Billy snickered. “Not to Stu. Asshole talks about you constantly. I already feel like I know you pretty well with how much he’s blabbed.”

I pursed my lips and sent a side glare to the said boy, who raised his arms in mock defense. “Wha-a-at? He’s my best bud! Besides, it’s fun to brag about every time I kick your ass at the arcade.”

“Oh, I see. So you’re a liar,” I hummed amusedly. “Allow me to fact check you, then. You’ve only ever beat me at DDR, if I can recall. Other than that, let me think…” I paused for effect. “Nope, I’ve won everything else.”

Billy and Sidney laughed, more so at the obvious embarrassment on Stu’s expression. “DDR is just the only valid game we’ve played, that’s all. Promise.”

“Street Fighter was valid when you won at that,” Billy interjected smugly.

“Well, how about ice cream? Yours is on me, Y/n,” Stu tittered.

“…Alright,” I conceded with the rest of the group.

~~~

“Man, what the hell’s going on?” I muttered to myself; glare glued to the reporters that were swarming the school. I grumbled under my breath as I squeezed through the many cameramen but paused when I heard Gale Weathers.

“… Two young teenagers were found brutally butchered. Authorities have yet to issue a statement…” My stomach churned and I decided to move on.

I would probably skip the school day. With supposed teen murders happening, it would be far lovelier to enjoy the autumn weather instead of surrounding myself with concerned and panicked classmates. The only reason I would stick around was to make sure Sidney and Tatum, Stu’s girlfriend, were holding up okay. The three of us had become close friends, and I knew how sensitive they were when it came to murder, understandably so, especially Sid.

I loitered near the entrance, completely spaced off and distracted by the tabloid, until an arm was swung around my shoulders. On instinct, I raised my arm to swat at the person, but I recognized the rough, calloused hands.

“Just me,” Billy greeted. “Did ya hear the news?”

“Some sorta murder. What’s the deal?”

He leaned against the wall, mimicking my posture. I stared at him expectantly. “Two of our classmates were killed last night. Casey and her boyfriend, Steve. They were gutted and everything. Police think a student did it.”

“You’re kidding,” I grunted. “Casey… wasn’t that the bit- girl that had it out for me last year? I think so, yeah. If I knew she would’ve ended up dead, maybe I wouldn’t have pummeled her so much for being a bitch.”

Billy snorted. “Don’t go mentioning that to the police, you’ll look like a suspect.”

“The cops already have it out for me in the first place,” I sighed. “Apparently it’s dangerous to loiter just ‘cause I’m known for roughing up deserving bitches. What, so Stuart can ‘disrupt the peace’ and get off Scott-free but I can’t take a break outside the shelter when I’m working my ass off all day?”

“Maybe it would’ve helped if you explained that you volunteer there regularly.” Stu suddenly showed up with his wolfish grin and backpack slung over his shoulder. I rolled my eyes and could only muster a grumble in response.

“Well, pardon me for not wantin’ to look like a pussy—“

“Oh, the horror,” Stu exaggerated, pulling me away from the walls and enveloping me in his usual eager hug. “Imagine what people would think if they found out you were a normal person!”

“Uh-huh, very funny,” I scoffed. “Now piss off, both of you’s. I’m ditching today so you pansies should just get to class.”

Billy’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. “Nuh-uh. We three share first period together, remember? Don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easily.”

“Yeah! Class is so much more fun with you to bother,” Stu agreed.

“Wow, I’m flattered. Yeah, definitely, now I want to go—oh wait, no, I hate you two, I only hang out with you ‘cause you have cute girlfriends—“

“Nuh-uh,” Billy cooed.

I went to shove the pair off, but I was suddenly lifted off the ground by Stu. With the help of Billy, he tossed me right over his shoulder. I groaned and banged on his back, trying to push myself off, but it was too late; I was already being carried into the school building.

“Hey, Billy-boy, go grab her shit from her locker,” Stu cackled.

“On it.”

We took a pit stop at my locker, and at some point, I focused more on glaring at anyone who paid us any heed. Although it was concerning that Billy knew my locker password, the two goofballs were harmless. I’d never admit it, but they’d grown on me after all the afternoons at the arcade or working at the animal shelter together.

“I’m, like, totally convinced you’ve stolen both of our boyfriends,” Tatum’s familiar giggle came from next to us.

I waved to her, hoping now Stu would be willing to set me down. “Hey. How are you two holding up?”

Sidney was silent from beside her, but Tatum was fairly animated. Billy slung her arm around her shoulder while clutching my bag in the other. “Oh my god, it’s so-o-o scary! Like, the murderer could literally be right next to us and not even know it.” She shuddered.

“How ‘bout you, Sid?” I inquired carefully, patting her head from my disabled position.

“It’s… unsettling,” she said quietly.

“No reason to be scared, babe,” Billy reassured, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head.

“Yeah! That goes for you too, babe,” Stu charismatically claimed, sending Tatum a thumbs up.

The five-minute bell suddenly rang. “Stuart, your girlfriend deserves attention, can you please put me down now?”

“Only if you promise not to ditch,” Billy spoke up, and Stu agreed with a ‘mhm.’

“Fuckin’ fine, but only because you two are such annoyin’ bastards,” I heaved, received when my feet finally touched the ground again. I stretched my arms and anxiously stole my bag away from Billy.

Stu lifted Tatum off the ground in his signature bone-crushing hug, which made even Sidney chuckle. I saddled up next to her.

“Hey, Sid, want me to walk you to class?” I muttered only for her to hear.

“O - oh, actually, I’m fine, but… If you don’t mind, can you come over after school? I can tutor you if you want.”

I snickered. “Yes and no. Yes to hanging out, no to studying. I ain’t got time for that shit.”

Tatum joined the conversation. “Don’t lie, you’re just lazy.”

I hummed humorously, but my attention as swung back to the boys as both of them grabbed my upper arms. Stuart gave me a noogie. “Love you girls, but we gotta head to class. See you at lunch, babes!”

Tatum and Sidney waved and we went opposite ways down the hall. I succumb to the boys’ unwilling clinginess with a sigh and let them forcefully drag me to class. As we walked by some girls, I heard them mention my name in a whisper, which made me feel rather subconscious. In exchange for these popular goofballs as friends, people were actually either noticing me or avoiding me less - both options I loathed with a passion.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Stu bugged.

“Nothin’. Just about how much you two piss me off.”

“Or-r-r how much you secretly love us,” Billy retorted with a prideful smirk.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I sighed.

We arrived at the classroom. I was finally allowed to shove the boys off me, slinking to the back of the classroom. Unsurprisingly, the boys sat on either side of me. As soon as they went to bug me again, the teacher entered and the bell rang. I let out a grateful breath and took out some paper, doodling the class away.

~~~

“Remember your principal loves you and I want you to be safe. All students are encouraged to return home promptly from school grounds after school. Avoid strangers, walk in twos and threes.” The P.A. finally went silent.

I stalked out of the front, my mom’s half-assed apple slices made with love in my grasp, as I went to the courtyard. Once upon a time, I would’ve slunk away to a seven-eleven or something, but I knew better than skip school when Sidney was definitely offset with all the murder going around. So, I reluctantly weaved through the people and went to the water fountain.

Stu and Billy were the first to notice me and wave me over. I waved back before plopping down next to Randy at the end. “Hey, Y/n,” Tatum greeted eagerly, leaning further against her affectionate boyfriend. “You look tired.”

“Oh, uh, I just didn’t get enough sleep last night. I needed to help bandage my mom up.”

“Is she okay?” Billy asked.

“She will be, she just got knocked around at… work.” I opened may small lunch and began munching on the apple.

“So what kind of questions did they ask you, Sid?” Tatum said, slinging herself around her friend.

“They asked me id I knew Casey.”

We all unanimously confirmed that we were asked the same question.

“Hey, did they ask if you liked to hunt?” Stu spoke up curiously.

“Yeah, they did. Did they ask you girls?”

“They asked me,” I recalled casually.

“No,” Tatum said. “Why would they ask if you liked to hunt?”

“‘Cause the bodies were gutted,” Randy informed excitedly.

“Thank you, Randy,” Billy shot back sarcastically.

“I didn’t get asked if I liked to hunt.”

“‘Cause there’s no way a girl could’ve killed them. I guess they thought Y/n was an exception.”

“That is so sexist!” Tatum argued pridefully. “The killert could easily be a female, Basic Instinct.”

“That was an ice pick, not exactly the same thing,” Randy interjected once more.

“You’re way too obsessed with horror movies, dude,” I sighed. “OI don’t understand how you can stand that shit.”

Randy sent me a knowing grin. Stu continued the conversation. “Yeah, Casey and Stever were completely hollowed out. And the fact is it takes a man to do something like that.”

“Or a man’s mentally,” Tatum noted.

Sidney fiddled with her hands, having hardly touched her lunch. Billy had withdrawn his arm to stick closer to Stu, even if Sidney definitely needed the affection more. “How do you… gut someone?”

I turned to the girl, and so did everyone else. We were all obviously worried, what, with her own mother having died. However, Stu obviously didn’t read the mood properly.

“So, you take a knife and you slit them from the groin to sternum —“

“Stuart, shut the fuck up,” I scolded with a scowl. Sidney sent a glare to the boy as well.

“It’s called tact you fuckrag,” Billy reminded, slapping the back of Stu’s head. He let out an ‘ouch’ and rubbed it viciously.

“Actually, Y/n, didn’t Casey used to pick on you a lot?”

“Yeah, she learned her lesson quick though, so it’s not like it meant anything,” I answered defensively.

“Did ya tell the police that?” Randy questioned.

“What, you think I killed her?” I growled, sending him a harsh glare.

“It would certainly make you feel scarier.”

“She already said she with her mom last night, so shut it, asshole,” Billy shouted, throwing one of his carrots at Randy.

“Yeah! Not to mention, I was volunteering all afternoon.”

Randy couldn’t help but laugh, wiping the carrot off him. “Was that before or after you sliced and diced?”

Tatum stood up for me as well, retorting,” Fuck you, nut case! Where were you last night, huh?”

“Working, thank you very much.”

“Oh, at the video store? I thought they fired your sorry ass.”

“Twice.”

“Get it in your fuckin’ head, douchebag, I didn’t kill anybody,” I grumbled self-consciously.

“Nobody said you did,” Billy agreed, sending me a comforting smile.

“Thanks, dude.”

Randy stood up and stretched. “Anyway, I heard the culler put her liver in the mailbox. Next to her spleen and pancreas.”

My stomach churned and I couldn’t help but kick his shin. “We’re trying to eat here, asshole. Can it or I’ll beat your ass.”

“Yes please, mommy —“

“She’s getting mad, alright? You better liver alone. Liver alone!” Sidney and I stood up at the same time, exchanging glances. She was as done with this conversation as I was. Billy hit Stu again. “Liv - Ow! Liver. Liver. It was a joke,” he whined.

“Fuck you guys, I’m ditching. I’ll see you after school, Sid.”

~~~

I leaned against the outside of the house - aka mansion - inconspicuously as Sidney’s bus finally pulled up. Some people shouted their good-byes to her, but Sid was quick to notice and wave to me. She skipped up the front porch and threw open the unlocked front door.

“How was school?” I asked casually as I invited myself in. I kicked off my shoes and hung up my jacket, leaving me in a tank top and jeans.

“It sucked,” Sid complained. “The news was riding my ass the whole time. They’re starting a conspiracy theory about how Casey and Steve’s deaths are linked to my mom’s, but the killer was already caught!”

“Sorry to hear it. I’ll try to be there for you tomorrow, but you know how much I hate school,” I offered.

Sidney sent me a grateful smile. “I’d appreciate that —“

From the kitchen, the phone started ringing. We both went over and Sidney picked it off the receiver. “Hello?” I waited patiently. I could already tell from the way Sid’s shoulders slumped comfortably that it was Tatum. “You’re sure we can stay over? ‘Cause my dad won’t be back til Sunday.” Another pause. “Uh-huh, it’s just the police and reporters. It’s all deja vu.” Tatum said her good-bye. “Thanks Tatum. See you soon.”

I leaned against the counter. “You going over for the night?”

“I think you mean ‘we’. You’re invited too, y’know,” she giggled, pulling me over to the couch. “For having such a ‘bad girl’ attitude, you sure don’t like staying out late.”

“Sid, you know I like to see my mom when I can. She tries her best to come home in between night shifts.”

She leaned onto me as she turned on the television and began flipping through channels. “Yeah, I know, and that’s cool, but we’re your friends. You should sleep over. Your mom would be fine with you hanging out. Besides, with a killer going around, it’s safe to stay with other people.”

“Well… I guess so,” I caved.

“The bodies of seventeen-year-old Case Becker and her eighteen-year —“

Sidney switched the channel.

“The Woodsboro double murder case. Authorities are baffled by the lack of clues salvaged —“

Sidney switched channels again.

Gale Weather came on the screen. “The town’s in shock and nobody can quite believe what has happened here, although this is not the first time this small community has endured such a tragedy. Only a year ago, Maureen Prescott, wife and mother was found raped and murdered not far from this peaceful town square.” A picture of the woman and a younger Sidney flashed on the screen.

Sidney turned off the television with a frustrated groan. I took it from her grasp before she could throw it across the room. She quietly thanked me and scooted down so she was lying on the couch. “Do you mind if I take a nap?” she mumbled.

“Go ahead.”

[weasel-b33]

500 Miles (j.p x fem!reader)

Description: A few years after the birth of your son Harry, you and your husband James recall the beginning of your relationship. (NO VOLDY I CAN NOT DO THAT TO MYSELF) 

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, A little Swearing, idk Cute Daddy James, Prolly many spelling errors I wrote this late and I am very tired...

 (THIS IS MY FIRST TIME EVER WRITING SOMETHING KINDA SIRIUS hehe SO IM SORRY IF IT IS TERRIBLE) 

Also the dates may be a bit wrong so im sorry in advance!! 

italicized is flashback!! 

Lyrics used in the song are from “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers (I KNOW THE SONG CAME OUT IN ‘87 BUT SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF PLEASE)

(not my gif)

The rambunctious laughter of the four year-old toddler and his father echoed throughout the large estate.

“Daddy!” exclaimed the messy haired Harry, “Can I please have a story.” Heavily emphasizing the puppy dog eyes he learned from his godfather, Sirius, a few years prior.

James Potter, the man unable to say no to anyone, tried to recall a story he had not told his son. Thinking back to the fairy tales of a prince slaying a fictional dragon, even though they are very much real, to save the princess that his mother used to tell him, James realized he was all out of good material. 

“I’m sorry bubs, I have nothing new too share,” the bespectacled man added lamely. The disappointment was instant on the child’s face, but luckily before the waterworks began, Y/N Potter strolled through the foyer into the den.

“Mommy!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up and bonding over to his mother, nearly knocking her over with his brute strength.

“Umph- Where’s the fire lovey?” you questioned with a slight chuckle. The dramatics of your son were never a surprise. Between his father and Sirius, you were surprised he had not acted much worse. Walking, more like sliding due to the child gripping your calves, over to your husband and lightly pecking his lips you ask, 

“What’s wrong now?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sheepishly stated, “I sorta don’t have a new story to tell him... he’s a bit peeved, if you couldn’t tell.”

A loud laugh tore through your throat as you pet your son’s hair affectionately.

“Come off Harry, Mommy has a perfect story to tell you,” you crooned softly.

“You do?”Harry questioned, rubbing the tears out of his stunning green eyes.

You picked him up and sat down near James, “Yes poppet, I have a very interesting story about how two very special people fell in love.” 

James quickly turned his head and quirked a questioning brow, “It all started when they were 15...” 

November 7, 1975

Quietly sitting on the vermilion couch of the Gryffindor Common Room, you began to fade out the noise of Lily ranting about the recent History of Magic exam, and Marlene’s long monologue over if she should or should not cut bangs. Instead, you were beginning to rip out each and every one of the hairs on your head because your Potions essay was nearly finished, yet you could not get those final words to conclude it all. 

Across the common room, a rowdy group of teenage boys, better known as the Marauders, were planning the newest prank on Snape. 

"We should give him that shampoo that will change his hair pink,” Sirius added.

Remus shook his head disapprovingly, “Pads, we did that last time come on..”

“WE HAVE NOTHING! WHAT IS WRONG WITH US, MOONY, HELP I’M DYING OF NO CREATIVITY!” Sirius exclaimed throwing himself across the scarred boy.

Although, many people turned their attention to the dark haired pureblood, James seemed he could not take his eyes off the girl nearly burning holes into her parchment, the girl he has fancied since he was 12. 

While playing with the snitch he stole, he said, “What if we tried that new rain spell we learned in charms today?” 

“Too difficult, we have not had enough practice.” Remus dismissed. “Well what if I found someone to practice on?” James added quickly turning to face his werewolf best friend. 

“Sure... Whatever, I could care less- Pads, get the bloody hell of me before I kick your arse,” 

“I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY REMUS JOHN,” Sirius yelled beginning his quick climb up the stairs to the boys dorm, with Remus and Peter quickly following.

“You comin’ Prongs?” Remus asked to the brunette still staring at the girl with shaky hands.

“No, I’ll come up in a few, still want to try to figure this prank out...” he said quietly. The lanky boy followed his best friends line of sight and quietly smirked to himself.

“Alright, don’t wear yourself out too much.” 

Even throughout the commotion, you still made no move to change your line of sight. That was until Marlene nudged you and whispered into your ear.

“Psst! Oi! Y/N! Why is Potter staring at you?” 

You quickly shook your head and waved off her question, opting to continue to find the right words.

Well until your blonde friend gripped your jaw, and turned your head to the direction of the boy. You instantly made eye-contact with the messy haired Gryffindor and quirked a brow. He smirked and turned his head away. You thought nothing of the interaction, until you felt a sudden drop above your head...

Instantly, it seemed as though there was a storm in the common room. Looking towards the ceiling you saw the dark rain cloud above your head. Quickly turning your head to the essay you were writing you noticed it completely wet and ruined. You jumped into action, trying to salvage what you could, but it was too late. Ignoring the screeches of your friends and fellow housemates, you began to look for the source of the cloud.

That was until you made eye contact with the laughing and smug James Potter.

“POTTER!” you yelled. Almost immediately the rain stopped, but the damage had been done. “JAMES POTTER! YOU BETTER HAVE A REASON YOU STARTED A STORM IN THE COMMON ROOM!” 

Hearing the commotion, the rest of the Marauders came down to the common room to witness what was happening. But all they saw was a yelling match between you and their brunette best friend.

“YOU ARE A DICK JAMES POTTER! KARMA IS A BITCH AND SHE IS COMING! IT’S GONNA BE SO NICE TO SEE YOUR FACE WHEN ALL YOUR ACTIONS FINALLY COME TO KICK YOU IN THE ARSE!” you yelled.

“What? I did nothing, I don’t mean to dampen your mood, but I have no idea what you are on about.” James replies smugly.

“UGH- YOU ARE A BULLY AND A RIGHTEOUS, STUCK UP, EGOTISTICAL ARSEHOLE! I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS BECAUSE-- OH MY! I-” You were quickly being dragged away by your red head companion. 

“Y/N, he is not worth it... let’s just leave.” 

“NO! I HAVE TO RESTART MY ESSAY! I WAS THIS BLOODY CLOSE. UGH- YOU ARE AN ARSE JAMES POTTER I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT!”

“Y/N, it was just a prank, its no big deal relax.” James said.

“RELAX! ARE YOU KIDDING... I-” you paused taking shallow and rapid breaths, ‘you know I can not believe you think its funny. You truly have no regard for people and how they feel do you?” you asked slowly and meticulously. 

“Prongs, just apologize and lets go..” Remus said quickly.

“I- I didn’t realize it would be that big of a deal.” James tried to say to you, but it was no use because you had already dragged Lily and Marlene out the common room and to the library to re-start your assignment. 

“Oh, COME ON! I did not” James stated jokingly.

“Darling, you must certainly did, I barley passed that essay as well. I blame you for me getting an E in that class.” You replied giggling.

“Moooommmyyy! Story, get back to the story,” Your son said dramatically, grabbing your cheeks and turning to face him for extra effect.

Hearing a chuckling from James in the background, “Alright bubs, back to the the story”

January 23, 1976

After months of back and forth between you and James, he was fed up trying to get your attention. From roses to chocolate, to even a firework show in your honor, James believed he had done everything to apologize to you for his stupid prank and prove his affection.

Tired of his friends constant whining, Remus and Sirius decided to take matters into their own hands and talk to someone who knew you better than anyone else, Lily and Marlene.

“Oh Evans, Mckinnon, we are in grave need of your beautiful minds” Sirius flirted. Remus smacked him across the head adding, “Ignore the git, we need some help its about-”

“James?” Lily and Marlene said in unison.

“Yeah...how did you know” Remus questioned. “Are we gonna ignore the fact they spoke at the same time” Sirius said, once again receiving a blow from his friend.

Rolling her eyes, Lily remarked, “Well, Y/N has been complaining about him for months,” Marlene quickly interjected, “...and you never are without him so its an easy assumption. 

Now its was the boys turn to roll their eyes to the back of their heads. “Anyways, he will not shut up about getting her to forgive him... so we were wondering if you had anything that could work to get her to forgive him?” Remus pleaded with the best Sirius puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“Fine,” Lily and Marlene said jointly.

“THEY DID IT AGAI- OH NOT YOU TOO AS WELL!” Sirius exclaimed rubbing the now sore bump on his head. 

Ignoring the dog’s dramatics, the group of four began conducting a plan for James that would knock Y/N’s socks off.

At this point, Harry had nestled between his parents and fell into a deep sleep.

The two of you put him to bed and settle down back into the living room.

Looking longingly at his wife, James says, “Well, might as well finish the story love... it is the best part.”

Giggling at the antics of your husband, you shrug and began to finish the story...

February 14, 1976 

The Great Hall looked as though Cupid had just went on a decorating rampage. The room lined with pink and red hearts and the sight of loving couples nearly made you want to gag. Then, you remembered the boy who has dying to get your attention for the past months and can not seem but to get excited.

What does he have planned for you? Is he gonna get me a gift? Do I look presentable? 

“WHAT!” you quickly think to yourself, “Why in Merlin’s name am I excited to to see Jame- Potter. Godric I can’t feel like this for him... He his as a fly that buzzes and will not leave me alone... but he is not the worst to look at”

You quickly snap out of your thoughts as Lily starts to put food onto your plate. You begin to eat, but can only think of one thing.

James Potter.

“Why?” You begin questioning again, “Godric, Y/N You like him... No I do not.. You realize you are having this whole conversation within your brain, right? It is obvious you like him...” you grumble to yourself as you realize your psyche has won once again.

Lily noticing your strange behavior begins to question if you discovered what they have planned. 

Almost as though the boys heard Lily’s thoughts the beginning of the plan is activated.

Instantly, the candles in all of the Great Hall extinguish and there is the beginning of a song plays.

Suddenly, a spotlight shines onto the teachers table where atop, James and the rest of the Marauders stand, Remus and Sirius with guitars and Peter on the drums. James holding a mic begins to sing...

When I wake up, Well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.

Your head snaps to the noise and there you see in all of his glory, James Potter holding a microphone staring straight at you.

When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who goes along.

Quickly shoving the breakfast roll down your throat you nearly choke as you see the boy slowly make his way towards the front of the Gryffindor table.

When I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.

Your eyes widen comically when you see James Potter jump onto the Gryffindor table. 

And when I haver, hey I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you.

Slowly, the boy begins his walk across the table to where you sit. You try to make a run for it, but Lily and Marlene quickly grab your arms and anchor you down to the bench 

“What friends you are!” you hiss at the two.

Marlene just rolls her eyes and Lily pinches your hip.

And I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who rolls a thousand miles To fall down at your door

Once the boy is standing in front of you he reaches down for your hand. Stubbornly, you ignore his gesture, well until your two friends throw you up onto the table with the love struck brunette. 

When I come home well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you And when I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you.

You grip onto the boys biceps for stability and are forced to look into his ravishing hazel eyes...

In that moment you forget all that he has done to you in the past and all you can think about is him and you. 

But I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who roles a thousand miles To fall down at your door.

Smiling, to yourself, you grab the face of the boy in front of you and mold your lips together. Ignoring the cheers of your classmates, the only sounds you hear are the background noise of the boy’s best friends signing backup. 

Da da da  Da da da                                                                                                            Da Da Dun Diddle                                                                                            Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da Da.....

Smiling to yourself and grabbing the hand of the man you love you start laughing.

“What’s so funny, love?” James asks.

“Nothing.... Just we began dating because you performed a whole song and dance in front of the entirety of Hogwarts.” you reply breathlessly.

“Well, hey, look at us now... happy, healthy, and a true family.” he replies smiling at your antics.

You lay down your head into the lap of your husband, and look up into his hazel eyes you got lost into all those years ago, “Such a sap, Potter, such a sap...”

Kissing your cheek softly, “Only for you, my darling girl... only for you...” 

“I love you Jamie”

“I love you more, my love.”            ______________________________________________________________

AHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! IM SORRY IF IT IS SO BAD!! THIS IS MY FIRST FIC PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I COULD DO ANYTHING BETTER!!! AHHHH (but like kinda like this story... kinda proud ;))

[thegodshavehorns]

A Study in Maltheism

Atheos: Greek. Meaning “Rejecting the gods, rejected by the gods, godforsaken.” From which we derive the modern “atheist.”

“This world could not have been the work of all-loving beings, but that of devils, who had brought creatures into existence in order to delight in the sight of their sufferings.”

- Freddie Mercury, probably

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you are the most-hated student to ever blight the halls of Our Lady Who Is Without Mother or Father Academy for Girls—or Our Lady Without, for a title that’s less of a mouthful. Those less well-read in theology are sometimes confused by the school's name, since the Book of the Zodiac teaches that all the gods are motherless and fatherless. However, the Seer of Mind, patron goddess of the Academy, is considered an orphan in a more ecclesiastically profound way than the others, although you're not sure why. Regardless, you can safely say that you spend the majority of your time at this prestigious institution in the engaging study of just what it is that you have to do before the administration has no choice but to expel you.

As of yet all of your efforts have been fruitless. Your blasted mother is far too influential of a figure for anyone here at the school to want to cross her. She is an alumnus of the school herself, an orphan girl who went on to take her higher education at the Canon Order of She Who Measures, and now she is a high-ranking admin for SkaiaNet Laboratories, which everybody knows—but nobody says—carries out research for the gods.

She is, for all intents and purposes, untouchable, and she has made it clear on other occasions that she intends for you to finish out your education here no matter what you do. Even if you should manage to burn the whole campus down, you would no doubt spend the rest of your childhood in some solitary schoolfeeding cell but you would still get your education. This came much to the disappointment of the principal, who once slipped you a box of matches during a parent-teacher conference when your mother caught the action and told you both that it would do no good.

You and the principal don't exactly like each other, but common goals have a way of making allies out of the blackest enemies. Not that you’re actually black for her, of course. Even if you were so... affected by the gods, you’re sure that you wouldn’t be directing caliginous feelings in her direction. Or anyone’s, really. You think that you'd deny yourself a kismesis just to spite the gods.

That kind of attitude is exactly why you’re in detention, of course. You wrote an admittedly scathing essay, well-constructed and thoroughly-argued, that couldn’t have been more scandalous had you named it Ninety-Five Proofs that the Teachers Are Engaging in Lewd Acts with the Students, with Details of Their Exact Activities and nailed the pages to somebody’s door.

Actually, now that you think about it, that doesn’t sound half-bad for Round Two, and you get out your pen and paper to begin drafting an outline when there is a crackle over the intercom. You ignore it, more interested in your burgeoning next project—you’ll have to make some adaptations to account for the switched sexes, but you think that you’ll be able to draw on some material from your last creative piece, The Circle of the Sword, whose sleaziness was matched only by its blasphemousness. It was about an all-boys school, and one for wizards, but you can fix those details. It helps that you were inspired by some of your peers at Our Lady Without to begin with.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear your name through the speaker, spoken in a uncharacteristically tight and anxious tone, and look up.

"-TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE. I REPEAT, MISS LALONDE, DO NOT KEEP HIM WAITING."

...Odd. You haven't done anything new that is worth calling you to the principal's office. And who is  'him?' Still, hope springs eternal, in this case hope of being expelled, so you sigh and pack your things up to go to visit the principal. You know the way there by heart.

The principal's door at the end of the well-trodden corridor is ornate and heavy, but it swings open while you are still several feet away, revealing Principal Garland, her forehead shiny with perspiration and her eyes looking half-crazed. "Finally, you're here. Come in, Lalonde." The principal reaches out for you, and lips curl into a fearful smile as she looks over her shoulder. "She's here, my Prince."

Prince? Curious, you peer around Principal Garland to see who it could possibly be, and your bookbag drops from your hands.

You are so, so dead.

You haven’t seen a god before in person, only a recording of a speech by the Mage at one of your mother's work functions, but you still don’t need to think about it to realize who’s standing in front of you. Despite your best efforts, the school’s theology lessons and your mother’s own drunken rants and recollections have sunk deep into your mind, and his names and titles start spilling into your awareness almost by reflex. Standing there, casually leaning against Principal Garland's desk, is The Stormcrow, He Who is the Evening and the Morning, The Aquatic, The White, Thrice-Formed Eridan Ampora.

And though your lizard brain wants to vault out the window and run for the hills, you manage to stay calm. You compose your face. You quiet your mind, as you learned to do in morning meditation. If you mess this up you won’t get a second chance. There’s a reason they call this one The Wrathful.

You stand there, bookbag at your feet, and keep your voice as steady as you can. “Hello, Prince of Hope. To what do I owe this honor?”

He scoffs in your face. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Rose Lalonde. That’s not you at all.”

He's not wearing his god-hood. You know from your mother that most of them hate that kind of formal and ritual attire. Instead he is dressed in the most ridiculous and ostentatious get-up that your eyes have ever suffered to behold. You know for a fact that he doesn’t need those glasses, much less a slightly-cracked set, and his yellow-and-white scarf is almost longer than he is. Emblazoned on his frilly purple shirt is the Aspect of three sets of stylized, curling wings, the symbol of his divinity.

You feel the blood drain out of your face, because you just noticed what he’s holding. It's a stapled sheaf of paper, and it has your name, signed in your distinctive loops, across the top.

Principal Garland drags you into the room, your mind reeling and your every instinct screaming to run, not to go closer. How did he get your essay? Did...did the school send it to him? Why, why would they—

"Lisa," he says, and it takes you a moment to realize he's addressing the principal. "You can go, now."

Principal Garland gapes at him, mouth flopping open like a fish. "I, this is... Yes, sir." She bows stiffly, then straightens and leaves, but before she shuts the door behind her she spares you a single look of pity.

You are now trapped in the principal's office with one of the most feared of the gods.

“I read your paper,” he says. "I liked it. Every last word.” And then he flips through the pages and begins to read from one of them. “As was well-said by John K. Roth, ‘Everythin' hinges on the proposition that the gods possess—but fail to use well enough—the power to intervene decisively at any moment to make history’s course less wasteful. Thus, in spite and because of their sovereignty, these gods are everlastingly guilty and the degrees run from gross negligence to mass murder.”

He smiles, teeth sharp, and you want to run away. Maybe...maybe if you throw something, if you distract him, you might be able to get past him, away from him and the school both. Run away, change your name, never think too hard when the gods are present in your mind… They’re not omniscient. You could do it.

But all your plans fall apart and you can only stare in horror as he continues to read, at first pacing back and forth, then walking behind Principal Garland's desk and sitting in her chair. “The gods, those Supreme Fascists, as Paul Erdos called them, are nothin' more than despots and liars. They are powerful, but Euthyphro demonstrated that power alone does not a god make. They made the universe, but like a clockwork device it now runs on its own, and by their own admission it would continue to function without their interference. They are landlords who charge too much rent, they are authors who don’t know that they should step back and let their work speak for itself. They are not inherently good, as anyone can realize after thirty seconds of meditation on the Dark Carnivale, and they are not worth worshippin'.”

Shit. The gods don’t make a habit of killing heretics, but…sometimes there are deaths. Sometimes they make exceptions to their unspoken rule.

You swallow, and glance around the room again for anything you could use as a weapon or distraction. Certificates of scholarly excellence? The landline phone? A lamp? At least you have the desk between you and him, but—

“Breathe,” he says, but you barely register the sounds. “I said to fuckin' breathe,” he says again, and your frantic thoughts are swept aside by violet. You’ve never heard the Tinge before, but you understand it now, how deeply it cuts to your core. The purple in his words is like nothing you have ever experienced, and all of a sudden you could not deny, even if you wanted to, that what is talking to you possesses a wholly different nature than your own. You take a deep, shuddering breath. “There you go. Much better, Rose. Your mother raised you wwell.”

You are such a mess. You would have liked to have at least died with dignity, but no. You sit down in one of the upholstered chairs reserved for prospective parents and turn away, hyperventilating.

“You seem to be missin' the part where I said that I liked this.”

“You are as c-capable of sarcasm as the rest of us,” you reply.

“You’re thinkin' a' Sollux. I guess I can dally in it once in a while too, but I don’t deal in lies.

You know that. I particularly liked the part where you deconstructed Richard Dawkins, by the way. Sometimes I wish we could pick our theologians, but we try not to interfere that much.”

“Then what d-do you want with me?”

“I want to take you under my thrice-formed wings,” Eridan says, opening his arms and gesturing grandly. “You’re a very special girl, Rose. I don’t make a big deal out of it, but people like you are my soldiers. There’s more to this game than you know, but you and I, our job is the same— we tell the gods when they’re fuckin' up.”

“So… I’m not going to die?” You're special? And not only is he not going to punish you for your heresy, but he's going to reward you? It seems too good to be true.

He smiles and shakes his head, steepling his fingers. “I’ll bet you’re tired a' this school. Am I right?” You nod vigorously, and he continues. “I can teach you more than these schoolmarms ever dreamed of, if you want.”

Ah, there's the catch. “You want me to be a disciple. Like my mother.”

“Consider it a partnership, more. Even the scientists and the teachers, they look up to me.” He stands and leans forward over the desk, suddenly taller than seems natural. He looks you square in the eyes, pink meeting purple. “But I want somebody to look at me. Keep me honest, as I do for the other gods. I’ll teach you everythin' I know, just as fast as you can take it in, and in return you promise to speak your mind about it all.”

Eridan looks away, and you blink. You hadn’t realized how hypnotic his gaze had been until he was no longer fixing you with it. You close your eyes and breathe, the deep violet afterimage still dancing behind your eyelids.

When you look back up, he's at the door. “Just consider it,” he says, and then he leaves you to your thoughts.

[violent-optimism]

Why I believe Rey’s ending is perfect (LONG ESSAY)

It sure has been a crazy month for Star Wars fans. As I’m starting to write this I’m realizing that it has been exactly a month since The Rise of Skywalker hit theaters. My experience with this film has been very interesting to say the least. I feel like I’ve gone back and forth several times regarding my opinion. It’s been a bumpy ride, but by this point I’ve realized that there are a few choices in the film that I disagree with. I still enjoy the film; I just wish certain things had been done differently. However, there is one decision that I feel is absolutely perfect for the main protagonist of the trilogy.

I’ve heard a lot of mixed opinions on the final scene of the movie. I’m not here to say that my interpretation of this scene is “right” or the most “correct” one. Not in the slightest. If you feel that Rey was robbed of the ending you believe she deserved, that is how you feel and no one can take that away from you. We all have our own opinions. If anyone feels offended by this essay I want you to know that is not my intention. To be honest, I’m a little scared to post this because I know a lot of people have strong feelings about Star Wars. My hope is that if anyone disagrees with what I am about to say that you can simply move on and find a piece of writing that you do agree with. Please be kind.

With all that being said, allow me to share with you why I believe Rey’s final scene is absolutely perfect for her arc, her character and the story.

So, in my mind, this final scene is all about bringing everything back to where it started.  Obviously, Tattooine was not only the home to Luke, but to Anakin as well, tying all three stories together. When Rey finds Luke’s home, she finds a piece of metal and slides down the hill, much like how she did in The Force Awakens. Except this time, she does it with a smile on her face, symbolizing her growth and acceptance of her scavenger background.

You can also tell how fascinated Rey is upon seeing the first home of this legendary figure. As we know, Rey grew up with stories of the Rebellion and Luke Skywalker. She’s probably dreamt about this moment for years, and so finally getting the chance to see it means a lot to her.

However, it’s not just seeing what could be considered a historical site; Rey has a job to do. She never had the chance to say goodbye to Luke or Leia before they joined with the force, and so Rey wants to honour their legacy and teachings by burying both of their lightsabers in the sand. I like to think this serves two purposes:

One, the sabers will never be used by anyone who is not worthy to have them or would try to use them for malevolent purposes.

Two, this act symbolizes letting go of the past but honoring those who came before, which I think has been one of the main themes of the whole trilogy.

And yes, from a meme point of view, Anakin’s lightsaber being buried in the sand is pretty hilarious and ironic, but I digress…

I view this scene as Rey thanking both Luke and Leia for the use of their lightsabers in her journey, but now she has a new saber that she has built, as is tradition once a Jedi has completed their training.

That’s the other part too; Rey has ‘passed all of the trials’ as it were. Not only has she helped to defeat the Emperor and the First Order, but she has also brought back the balance. This girl from nowhere, having never imagined where her life would lead, is now the sole heir to the Jedi legacy and a protector of the peace.

The colour of her lightsaber is also very telling. I think it’s supposed to symbolize a couple different things. It’s a lightsaber colour that we have never seen in any of the Star Wars saga films. This represents a new direction in the Jedi Order, branching off from tradition and forging a new path. Rey doesn’t want to simply imitate the Jedi of old; she wants to be her own version of who she thinks a Jedi should be. The golden colour is neutral, sitting somewhere between Red and Blue, once again symbolizing balance.

This next part is one that a lot of people seem to take issue with. At first glance, I can totally see why. Rey shouldn’t need a powerful last name to prove that she’s a powerful character. Her worth should come from within, not from a bloodline.

In my eyes, however, I don’t see this part actively taking away from Rey’s character or her inner strength. I believe it fulfills a wish that she has always had.

An old wanderer asks her for her name. Rey replies. The wanderer then asks: “Rey who?”

In case it wasn’t abundantly clear by now, family names are SUPER important in the Star Wars universe; to the point where random strangers will ask for your last name, like this scene and the part on Pasanaa with Rey and the local.

The ending is supposed to directly correlate with the scene on Pasanaa. When 3PO translates that the local is asking for Rey’s family name, you can clearly see the heartbreak on her face as she (yet again) has to confront this part of her past; the fact that she is a “no one” from nowhere with no family name to speak of. In this story, a family name is like wearing a badge of honour, something to be proud of. Who could blame Rey for wanting that?

Later on of course, Rey discovers that the answer she has been seeking for so long contains the most horrible truth that she could ever imagine. Being the granddaughter of Emperor Palpatine, Rey faces immense struggle with accepting that she is a part of that family and what this could mean for her future. By the end of the story, Rey has come to realize that it doesn’t matter that she’s related to the most horrible man in the galaxy, what matters is the choices she makes and who she chooses to be.

If we think back to the previous two films, what is the one thing that Rey has always wanted? Belonging…Family…Meaning…

These are the words that guide Rey’s journey until the very end. Finding out that her parents were “no one” shocked her to the core. Even it was foolish and naïve, she wanted to believe so badly that she was connected to someone greater, someone who made a difference.

In a way, she was partially correct…but not at all how she expected. Of course she chooses to reject the Palpatine name and everything it stands for, as she rightfully should. Despite what she feared as a child, Rey comes to learn that her parents did in fact love her very much and protected her the only way they could. Unfortunately, they have passed on and can no longer serve a role as her family, so where does that leave her?

Having a family name, and more specifically, a family, is what Rey has always wanted since the very beginning. I’m not saying that Rey doesn’t have a purpose beyond that, but if you look at what she’s wanted since The Force Awakens, it is definitely in line with her character and this ending fulfills that wish in all the right ways.

“Rey who?”

The familiar question stumps Rey for a moment. She looks off in thought as she thinks of an answer. If she has rejected the name of Palpatine, what name can she give to this woman?

Feeling a familiar presence, Rey looks off into the distance, seeing the shapes of her Masters smiling at her with proud expressions. Luke and Leia wordlessly give her the answer, the one that not only makes her the happiest, but represents who she is and the path she has chosen.

Rey smiles contently, finally knowing what to say as she looks back towards the wanderer.

“Rey Skywalker.”

And then we come to the final shot of the movie, with Rey and BB-8 standing in front of the twin suns as the “force theme” swells in the background. This is an obvious homage to two other Star Wars endings, but also to the one shot in The Force Awakens with Rey and BB-8 walking into the desert. BB-8 was the first friend that Rey ever made, and so it only makes sense that they would be there with her as her story comes to a close.

Rey is anything but alone in this moment. While it is a bit odd that we never see closure with Finn and Poe’s stories, it can absolutely be assumed that Rey will always take the time to visit them and keep the friendship strong. In the final scene, she has two ‘adoptive parents’ watching over her, along with the droid that started her adventure.

I never thought this scene was trying to suggest that Rey would stay on Tattooine. Her journey there was a pilgrimage, the ‘last stage of her training’ if you will. All she came there to do was to bury the lightsabers and pay respect to her Masters and adoptive parents. I don’t believe Rey is intending to stay, not at all.

It’s so exciting to think about what other adventures Rey could have, and that’s what I love about this ending. It leaves it up to the imagination of the viewer. What will Rey do next? Will she train a new generation of Jedi? Will she explore the galaxy? The possibilities are infinite. One thing is for certain, Rey knows who she is and has found a family she can belong to.

That is all she ever wanted.

[miachanelparker]

The Box

INVOLVED: Mia Parker and Tyler Carter TIME FRAME: Tuesday, January 28th, 2020 LOCATION: Tyler’s Condo; Houston, Texas SUMMARY: Tyler finds the box of unused Plan B pills and ask Mia, only to solidified his true feelings with his own box about her possible pregnancy. 

Tyler stood in the bathroom, opening and closing drawers as he tried to find where Mia had moved his clippers to. He didn’t understand why she moved them in the first place, but he wasn’t going to question it. His father always told him, you’ve got to choose your battles and honestly, his missing clippers weren’t worth it. Sighing out, he moved over to the next set of drawers, opening and closing one quickly before his eyebrows furrowed together and he opened the drawer back up, reaching inside and grabbing the Plan B box. His licked his lips slowly and held his breath as he flipped the lapels of the already opened box and gently pulled out the small foil and plastic sheet to see that Mia hadn’t taken the pills and he released the breath slowly. Tapping the box against the counter, he slowly walked out of the bathroom with the box in hand. “Mia,” he said calling her name gently.

Mia sat in the corner of the room; her feet pulled up in the chair as she typed away on the computer. She had a paper due tomorrow at 12 am midnight and she was determined to get it finished today. She licked her lips slowly as she read a sentence over before she grabbed her notebook and read over her notes from class to herself silently before Tyler walked back into the bathroom having rummaged through drawers for a few minutes. “Hm?” she replied back to him as she continued to read her note quietly.

Tyler held the box up as Mia continued to focus on her essay. He walked over to her, kneeling down beside her as he slowly slid the box over her keyboard. “Mia…” he said again. “You didn’t take them…” he said stating the obvious.

Mia waited for the boy to say something and as she did, she flipped through her notes once more, she was stumped at the moment. As he knelt beside her, she lifted her head looking to him before she looked to the box that he slid across her laptops keyboard. At his words she looked back to his eyes, “no, I didn’t…”

“What made you make that decision?” Tyler asked her softly out of curiosity. He wasn’t upset that she didn’t take it, but he just wanted to know why. “I’m not mad or anything,” he told her easily, placing his hand on her knee. “Just curious,” he informed her truthfully.

As he questioned her, she felt like maybe she should have taken them after all. She didn’t know why she didn’t toss the box out; she guess part of her felt very guilty for allowing someone else’s stupidity to cloud her judgement. Mia tucked her lips in as he spoke again, as he said he was just curious she averted her eyes. “You don’t want to know… it would probably just annoy you” she said softly as she cursed herself.

Tyler nodded slowly at the response she gave him. He didn’t know what it was about, but he assumed she was right, and it was probably best that he didn’t know one way or the other. “So, my baby might be carrying my baby?” he asked her softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Mia looked up to him “nothing will probably happen you know” she said “that probably happens to plenty of people and they don’t even know it” she downplayed it a bit. “I was going to take them; I know you don’t want a baby right now. We are still trying to finish school and stuff…” she shrugged. “I was back and forth for a while” she admitted closing her notebook and sitting it aside.

Tyler frowned now. She was right, she might not be pregnant but, then again, she might be. How soon was too soon to take a test, he wondered. “I want a baby whenever with you,” he told her gently. “Right now, tomorrow, in a year, in three years…” he said trailing off. “It doesn’t matter as long as it’s with you,” he said gently. “I just want you to be ready and comfortable with it,” he said lovingly. “We could still finish school and have our careers,” he said gently before he nodded. “I can understand why,” he said gently. “But… there’s a possibility that my baby is carrying my baby?” he asked her again, gently placing his hand on her stomach.

At his words she saved the document and rest the laptop to the side of her as she looked back to him. “You didn’t really act that way though Tyler” she reminded “you seem to have had mixed feelings and that’s the reason why I bought the Plan B in the first place,” Mia sighed. As he went on, she smirked somewhat “it’s possible… maybe” she shrugged to him as she rested her head against the back of her hand gently.

“Really?” Tyler asked her. He thought he’d made it clear that he was with it, but maybe he hadn’t. It was still in shock a bit and yes and had mixed emotions, but he wanted a baby with her. Definitely. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I want this with you,” he told her, his hand still resting on her stomach. “We could figure it out and still finish school,” he told her honestly. “I’m ready for the challenge,” he said reassuringly. At her statement, Tyler nodded slowly, resting his forehead against her thigh. “Baby, baby, baby,” he said in a singsong like voice before he lifted his head and kissed her thigh. “I guess we’ll know soon enough…”

Mia looked into his eyes lovingly as he spoke, and she stroked his cheek after a while. She was content no matter the outcome of this, she loved him with her whole heart, and nothing would change that for her. “I know we can Ty” she breathed “I know for a fact, I could be a mother, a student, and your confidant” she told him. “I am not worried, just as I told you that night. Had this happened a few months back, I’d probably be sick to my stomach. But I love you Tyler” she breathed. “More than you can imagine,” she added. “I know we will be okay, because I know you will provide. That’s just the type of man that you are” she acknowledged. “I couldn’t picture this happening, but I also couldn’t picture having been so lucky in life either” she said as she looked at him.

Nodding slowly, Tyler took in what Mia had to say, and he smiled softly. “You’ll be the best mother a child could ever ask for,” he said gently as he gazed up at her lovingly. “I’ll always take care of you, no matter what,” he said softly. “I love you too Mia, so much,” he said kissing her thigh once more. “I’m the lucky one,” he said endearingly. “You flipped my whole world upside down, Mia,” he told her honestly. “For the better of course,” he said. “In you I found a wife,” he said gently proclaiming it.

His words made her heart swell in her chest and she smiled tenderly at him. As he stated he found a wife in her Mia’s eyes grew a bit and her heart raced causing butterflies to swarm her stomach and she leaned in kissing his lips lovingly. She would never get enough of hearing such loving things like that leave his lips, he hadn’t a clue that it was really him who’d turned her world upside down. Mia had never known a love like this before, she didn’t really know if it truly existed however she found it in him.

Tyler kissed Mia back tenderly and lovingly, his hands cupping her face gently before he pulled away smiling at her. He brushed his nose against hers and smirked. “That is of course if you’ll have me as a husband,” he said with a chuckle.

Mia exhaled softly as Tyler pulled away and when he spoke again her eyes grew once more. “Ty” she breathed as her heart raced, what was going on right now. What was he saying? Was he proposing right now, on the spot? Does he have a little velvet box in his pocket and is preparing to pull it out? “Of” she breathed “of course” she said to him gripping his large hands.

Tyler smiled softly at Mia’s words, his face flushing red and his dimples creasing inward. “I love you so much,” he repeated once more, kissing her lips. “I can’t wait to build our life together,” he said lovingly, squeezing her hands back lovingly. “You really are my world Mia,” he said with a deep content sigh, “and if you turn out to be pregnant just know I’ll give you the universe and more for our child,” he said seriously before he pulled one of his hands from hers and moved to stand up. He walked over and opened his sock drawer, fumbling around in it a bit before he pulled out a tiny black box and turned to Mia. “I was saving this for a special occasion,” he admitted, “but when you truly love someone, why wait?” he asked as he moved to get down on one knee in front of her. He flipped the small box open and asked, “Mia Chanel Parker, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” he asked.

As he continued to speak Mia’s heart only raced more and she shifted in the chair watching him closely. This couldn’t be happening right now, there was no way in the World he was doing this. She couldn’t even speak; she had lost all her words as she waited to see what his next move was and when he got up and moved towards his drawer. She sat up, dropping her feet as her hand cupped her mouth the loudest gasp leaving her. “No way” she said her eyes filling with unshed tears as he moved back towards her and knelt down and when she did Mia let out the loudest scream, before she covered her mouth again. “Ty” she yelled out in shock. It was like a flood, she could barely see she was crying so hard and she crashed into him, never mind the fact that the ring was huge. But he was proposing, he had proposed, he wanted to marry her, and it wasn’t a game or a joke. She cried out into his shoulder as she gripped him for dear life “yes” she told him, clutching him to her. “Yes” she said nodding her head as she lifted it to look at him once more, drying her eyes some.

Tyler listened to all of the gasps and noises coming from Mia’s mouth and he waited with a sharp inhale of breath. He sat there, watching the flood gates open as she cried, and he tried to keep his own composure as she clobbered him and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, standing up with her quickly to keep his balance and not fall over with her. His freehand fell to under her thigh, holding her up against him easily as his other hand still held the ring out. “Yes?” he asked her back as he smiled brightly.

“Yes, of course yes!” Mia said as she dried more tears with her hands “of course I’d be your wife, Tyler I wouldn’t want anything else in the World” she expressed with admiration to him. “Yes, yes, yes” she said happily as she sniffled.

Tyler held Mia close as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed with her in his lap and he kissed her lovingly before he slowly pulled back and took the ring out of the box, holding it up to her. He smirked as he delicately took her left hand and slid it into her finger. Unshed tears filled his eyes as he placed the ring on her finger, and he smiled so hard his cheeks turned. “Mrs. Carter has a nice ring to it,” he said to her scrunching his nose playfully.

Mia allowed Tyler to pull her towards the bed, and she rested against him comfortably “I can’t believe this” she breathed out again. It was so surreal. As he slid the ring onto her finger, she looked to it happily beaming at him and it as her eyes bounced back and forth. At his words she nodded her head and she grabbed his face in her hands just resting their foreheads together. “I love you like crazy boy” she told him before she kissed his lips again, lingering there for a very long time before she pulled away. “God, I love you” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck hugging him tightly, she could stay in her arms forever and that’s what she intended.

Chuckling, Tyler rubbed her full hips lovingly. “I love you too baby girl,” he said easily, his heart growing in his chest. He kissed her back tenderly, his fingers gently playing with the ends of her braids. With a sigh of contempt, he hugged Mia close, rocking her from side to side in his arms.

[bts-speakyourself]

20 to One Incident 😬

⚠️Warning: If there is any wrong information in this blog please let me know! I don’t want to give any false information. I’m going to try to not make this blog to long.

If you’ve been on Twitter for the past two days and you’re an ARMY, you know better than anyone how other ARMYs have felt when it came to a segment covering BTS. An absolutely racist and disrespectful segment. To those who might not know here’s a summary of the situation:

Summary:

20 to One is an Australian TV show (on Channel 9) and basically they countdown the top 20 global crazes placing BTS as No. 18 and let me tell you, once the segment was released there were at least three hashtags that were trending on Twitter overnight.

#channel9apoligiz(s)e

#channel9apoligiz(s)etoBTS

#fireAlexWilliamson

Don’t worry, I promise the third hashtag will make sense as I go on. Rather than writing what happened in the segment, the following tweet has the full two minute segment that was covered about BTS. If I’m being honest.....I wasn’t even able to watch the whole thing AT ALL.

There are a few common words that ARMY has used to describe this segment which are:

Disgusting

Racist

Xenophobic

Disrespectful

Then amazingly enough when things were already on fire, more wood was added by Alex Williamson who didn’t post one, but many more tweets adding to the fire. The following was the first tweet that he has posted supporting the segment of 20 to One.

Honestly, the various replys that ARMY made were amazing! There is one tweet that actually caught my attention which was, “Us 14 y/o’s also sold out a 3.5 star wine that Jungkook drank. Don’t forget that.” This reminded me when Jungkook revealed what fabric softer he used and the next thing you know, it was sold out. 😂

The obvious thing ARMY asked for was an apology from those involved in the segment, and I believe a representative of Channel Nine as well for letting them air the segment, since many ARMYs did mention that it did not follow an regulations and was considered defamation. This was what we got:

“As a lighthearted entertainment program, it is our belief that last night’s episode of 20 to One, which highlighted the ‘Greatest Global Crazes’, did not breach any broadcast regulations, and was intended to humorously highlight the popularity of the group. We apologise to any who may have been offended by last night’s episode.”

As for Alex.....let’s just say he didn’t really apologize at all and still kept being quite disrespectful.

End of Summary

I hope the summary helped you guys of the current situation! Now this is my opinion on the situation currently.

I honestly agree with how racist it is and it’s disrespectful as well knowing how hard they worked throughout their career and the tough times they went through. Of course I would like to give my opinion on the whole segment but that’s going to take too long so I’ll give my opinion on four things, three from the segment and the fourth opinion will be about the apology.

‘only one member actually speaks English’

As we know, Namjoon is amazing at English and learned it by watching the American show Friends. But pointing that out that’s a way of belittling them. As ARMYs we know that they try to at least speak a bit of the language for the fans so they can communicate us which is honestly amazing. I’m sure if they wish it, they would want the ability to speak all languages to be able to speak out to us and to able to express more of themselves. But because of their actions we know that they love us hence the quote, “actions speak louder than words.”

Gangster names

This was a bit of a surprise when I first heard it. As I mentioned I didn’t see the full segment because I couldn’t bare to watch anymore. But then I saw this floating around, so I’m guessing they mentioned it towards the end of the segment. I did a bit of research about stage names because my arrogant self didn’t really question why any Kpop idol had a stage name. So this is what I dug up.

I’m still a bit iffy about the process of choosing a stage name but I read that they really don’t have a choice and that their stage name is chosen for them, but idols can later on change their stage name if they wanted to. But the question is why do they have stage name in first place? Apparently it’s so that they can attract more people because they believe that by having an “old” sounding name they wouldn’t attract many people. Some idols tho, have a special meaning behind their stage maybe even a special reason.

J-Hope

The reason why his stage name is J-Hope is because he hopes he can become people’s hope. Hence the introduction “I’m your hope, you’re my hope, I’m J-Hope.”

Suga

Suga on the other hand was a stage name that was given to him from BangPD I believe. The reason why Suga was chosen is because his smiles are sweet like sugar.

RM

Another example is RM. Now here’s the thing, RM changed his stage name. Currently the initials of his stage name means Real Me and I’m guess what that means is that he’s showing ARMYs the real him. Now what about Rap Monster? Well I’m just going on a whim here and guess that the reason for the previous stage name is because of his amazing ability of rapping. Honestly I’m not going to talk about the other stage names he had cause that’s going to take too long. 😂

V

Last but not least, V! If you’ve been an ARMY even before the debut of BTS then you know very well that V was th last member to be introduced to BTS. During the time they wanted to make V like the mystery member and kept him hidden in hopes to attract more people. He was given the choice between Lex, Six, and V. He chose V because the members thought it fits him well.

‘I’m going to say....hair products.’

As we already know, BTS was able to speak at the UN. Namjoon, gave a speech about self respect which was amazing and a huge accomplishment for their career. During the segment they did mention that they did indeed gave a speech at the UN so they did do a little research but what they said afterwards is flat out ridiculous. They said that the speech that they gave at the UN was most likely about hair products... I’m beyond speechless honestly.

Speech less because could you imagine how nervous they were? Could you imagine how much time they prepped and wrote and try to find out the right words to write such a great speech? It’s not like writing an essay for a school assignment, they’re writing for the public to hear and presenting to not just the leaders of the UN but to those who may be watching as well. It’s a big deal because they’ve been noticed and had made a great impact to us.

If you haven’t yet, I recommend watching the full UN speech!

I had to share but out of all the videos, Jimmy Fallon’s segment about the speech of the UN was amazing and cracked me up. 😂

Honestly the part where they made it so that a representative was hearing Fake Love when Trump was giving out his speech was amazing. 😂 Then came along a few minutes of roasting Trump was also funny.

Apology

So this will be my last opinion. What is my opinion about the apology that the representative of channel 9 gave and the tweet from 20 to One. Honestly... I’m not satisfied with it at all. I agree with ARMY that they need to publicly apologize for the racist and disrespectful segment. The way 20 to One apologized is not ok and it’s kinda like they’re not admitting to their fault. “Light hearted entertainment,” do you really think the whole two minute segment was “light hearted.”

No it’s not light hearted at all. They even made us look like crazy fans. But I don’t mind it because ARMY has accomplished a bunch of projects in honor of BTS. Projects like helping the environment, helping conserve the koalas (specifically in honor of RM). I mean, let’s not mention how litteraly there is a koala named Koya in a Australian zoo. ARMYs have donated to US organizations that assist disadvantaged kids around the world (specifically in honor of Suga). Then Mexican ARMY outdid themselves when they acted as a human barricade when BTS were arriving at the airport for K-Con Mexico!

Of course, there are many more projects that AMRYs have done in the past that we all need to be proud of. I’m also proud of the project as well that’s been done for the boys.

Last but not least Alex. He didn’t really give an apology at all and it’s really not worth mentioning it. If you want you can check it out through his Twitter.

Anyway, this is my opinion of the situation and what has happened so far. I’m going to end it here since this is already long blog.

I purple you guys! 💜 Let’s keep making BTS proud!

[tarysande]

I was curious do you think Cain was a sociopath I read an article about how a sociopath 'loves' and it reminded me of him do you think this is what the writers were going for or am I way off?

I think there’s a lot of evidence to support that read on his character and I feel with at least some small amount of confidence that his character description probably included the word. In fact, I think Pierce may even have been a psychopath. (Pysch researchers tend to think psychopaths are born, while sociopathy results from childhood trauma. More on this later!)

Sociopaths and psychopaths fall under the shared umbrella of antisocial personality disorder.

According to the DSM V (psychiatry’s diagnostic bible), the following criteria is listed for antisocial personality disorder: 

Persistent patterns of disregard and violation of the rights of others, present since the age of 15 and consisting of at least three of the following resulting in hurting, mistreating, and/or stealing from someone:

Disrespect and failure to conform to lawful behavior resulting in repeated arrests.

Persistent deceitfulness, using aliases, and lying to con others for personal gain.

Impulsive and unable to plan.

Easily irritated, aggressive and prone to repeated physical altercations and assaults.

Reckless, disregarding the safety of others and one’s self.

Persistently irresponsible, inability to maintain consistent work behavior and/or honor financial obligations.

Indifferent rationalization without remorse.

I don’t know about you, but I see a lot of Cain/Pierce/Sinnerman there, no?

So, let’s try to parse Cain a little given what we know because we were told and what we can infer by observation or reading between the lines.

Biblically, we know Cain killed his brother Abel because he was angry that God liked Abel’s sacrifice better. Cain then lied about it (to God; ballsy, but ultimately a bad choice). I want to talk about something, though, that people who didn’t once win Sunday School Jeopardy! (it’s true) might not know: Cain wasn’t marked and punished because he killed his brother. Because Cain was a farmer (and proud of it), God punished him by cursing him so the soil would no longer give him strength. He could no longer do what made him happiest and brought him the most satisfaction. Dying is easy; living without being able to fulfill your purpose is harsh. To this, Cain replied, “Well then, I’ll just hide from your presence and wander until someone kills me; life’s not worth living without farming,” and God said, “Y’think it’s that easy, do you? Have this mark so everyone’ll know that, in killing you, they bring My vengeance upon them sevenfold.”

Murder is bad. Trying to wriggle out of what God deems to be appropriate punishment for it is far worse. Defying God’s judgment is the crime for which Cain is punished with the mark.

(Where have we seen that before? But that’s the subject for a different essay.)

So, if we assume that Lucifer’s writers were pulling from Biblical ‘canon,’ we’ve already got a little sociopathy happening. Cain kills his brother because Abel got a better report card from God and he can’t stand that (he’s the elder brother, after all). He feels no remorse, no guilt (and Pierce says as much to Lucifer; it’s a driving part of his personality from the beginning), and no empathy. He lies to protect himself. His response to being punished is not “I’m sorry for what I did,” it’s “How dare you take my things away from me.” It’s selfish and self-centered.

Also from the DSM V:

Persistent pathological personality traits:

Antagonism

Manipulative - frequent use of deceit, subterfuge, charm, seduction, and ingratiation to achieve personal goals.

Deceit - lies and fraudulent representation of self, embellishment and lying when relating events.

Callous - cold, uncaring, and indifferent to the feelings of others, lack of remorse for the hurt they cause to others, aggressive and sadistic.

Hostile - aggressive and angry at perceived slights and insults, vengeful and mean.

Disinhibition

Irresponsible - failure to honor obligations, lack of respect for promises made and agreements.

Impulsive - acts on momentary stimulus, no planning, inability to plan.

Risk Behavior - denies personal danger, engages in dangerous activity to one’s self and others, engages in risk behaviors to stave off boredom.

Now, here’s where Pierce appears psychopathic: psychopaths plan. They engage in criminal behavior in a way that minimizes personal risk. They have plans and contingency plans to ensure they are not caught. (SINNERMAN.) A psychopath is better able to dissociate from their actions (”It was an accident. He deserved it. He was an asshat.”) ((Sidebar: that Abel’s in Hell proves Abel felt guilt and remorse, unlike his brother. It’s not that Abel ‘deserved it’–he just had deeper feelings than Cain.)

I don’t think it takes much to see these actions and responses paralleled in Pierce’s behavior, right from the beginning of the season when he doesn’t care about anyone in the precinct; he only knows about them in the context of what they can do for him. He lies constantly and always to protect himself. He throws Chloe (multiple times) into danger to test his theories. He shows no empathy for anyone at at any point (remember, if any of the post-Abel grief was real, it was because he still thought Abel was going to help him get what he wanted; it wasn’t about loving his brother). He rejects Chloe until he witnesses the moment between Chloe and Lucifer at Lux. Pierce had several opportunities to start a relationship with Chloe earlier but he didn’t take them because a relationship wasn’t necessary for his plans.

Cain is utterly and entirely focused on himself. When he does enter into a relationship with Chloe, it’s for selfish reasons; he says as much to the waitress. To a sociopath, true love is focused on the self, power (seen in the Sinnerman), and playing/winning his game of life. When Pierce decided to “woo” Chloe, he relied on every cliche in the book: romantic dinner, roses, declarations of love. It was like he looked up “romance” in the dictionary and awkwardly followed the steps laid out. Or, in this case, asked Ella and she told him what Chloe liked, what Chloe wanted, and what Chloe felt was missing from her life (especially vis a vis the heartbreak with Lucifer). And Chloe, because of said heartbreak and because she has some serious love-related self-esteem issues (different essay!!) fell for it. Because she wanted to feel loved, wanted to feel lovable.

Several of Pierce’s behaviors in “love” often occur with sociopaths and one of them is moving quickly: declaring “love,” wanting to get married very fast. Another is resenting time spent with family and friends (or, I suppose, wearing a bullet necklace); sociopaths are often possessive and demanding. Did he ever love Chloe? I don’t think so, personally. I saw no indication he was capable of real love, sacrificial love, love that puts someone else first sometimes. I think he loved feeling like he’d “won” the game of stealing Chloe from Lucifer (Cain is often shown emulating Lucifer, such as with providing favors, but I don’t think he ever cares about what he’s giving to the other person: he’s entirely focused on how beholden the person will have to feel to him. It’s about power. Chloe is about power. Being a Lieutenant with friends in high places is about power. Being the Sinnerman is about power). Perhaps, yes, that moment he lost his mark was the first time in thousands of years he felt bad, a pang of momentary guilt. It did not, however, take him long to return to manipulating Chloe and improvising a plan so he could “win” again.

Finally: look guys, that rock collection was serial killer creepy AF. Okay? The rock he killed his brother with was definitely there. Those were trophies. He took them with him to his creepy sewer/warehouse hidey-hole. 

So, before I leave you, here’s something interesting for people to think about: the Lucifer we meet in Season 1? Go look at that list of pathological personality traits again. Lucifer’s a walking checklist for sociopathy/APD (the Cain & Lucifer parallels are definitely material for more thought!). As the show goes on, we start to realize that a lot of Lucifer’s issues are rooted in early (and extremely extended) trauma (which is what psych researchers believe is the root of sociopathy; Lucifer wasn’t born that way, while it’s implied Cain was). Only, Lucifer changes. He learns. It’s slow and he takes steps backward as often as he steps forward. Only his active choices and steps toward change, only the fact that he slowly begins to see things from a little outside himself, only the fact that he is willing to admit he makes mistakes or doesn’t actually know everything and work with an actual therapist, and that he is doggedly devoted to not lying is what sets him apart and allows him to be someone sympathetic and capable of change—it’s why Chloe, and the audience, can love him and hope the best for him. Though they may seem small, that Lucifer is making changes at all is monumental. Psychologically speaking, the deck is really stacked against him.

What I’m saying here is that Dr. Linda Martin is going to write the most epic case study in the history of psychology at some point. She’s gonna make millions. And she deserves it!

(Speaking of different essays, someone remind me to talk about the parallels between Amenadiel & Lucifer and Cain & Abel at some point because they’re fascinating… and also they illuminate why Amenadiel can be redeemed but Cain couldn’t.) 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHAT NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ABOUT PEOPLE

This probably indicates room for improvement. A language that would make as much of the innovation is unconscious. When I was in grad school the whole time, and both got their degrees. It would not hurt to make Lisp better as a scripting language for Unix.1 It's worth understanding what McCarthy discovered. Search was now only a small percentage of our page views, less than one month's growth, and now he's a professor at MIT. Imagine waking up after such an operation. His answer was simply no. By seeming unable even to cut a grapefruit in half let alone go to the store and buy one, he forced other people to use.

Instead of quietly switching to another field, he made a fuss, from inside.2 If you'd proposed at the time that was an odd thing to do, and even have bad service, and people are often upset to be told things they don't.3 For example, I write essays the same way. There is nothing more important than brevity to a hacker: being able to do what you want in a throwaway program is a program you write quickly for some limited task. Most nerds like quieter pleasures. Society. It will always suck to work for a couple years ago I advised graduating seniors to work for you, the founders should include technical people. People who like New York will pay a premium to live in a town where the cool people are really cool.

Do we have free will?4 And if we, who were 29 and 30 at the time whether this was because of the Bubble, especially in companies run by business types, who thought of software development as something terrifying that therefore had to be crammed into the form of powerful, inexpensive computers, and I got in reply what was then the party line about it: that Yahoo was no longer a mere search engine. Odds are this project won't be a very promising startup indeed to get a job depends on the kind you want. In towns like Houston and Chicago and Detroit it's too small to measure. The centralizing effect of venture firms is a double one: they cause startups to form around them, and the VCs will try to undermine the VCs by acting faster, and the super-angels would quibble about valuations. Hackers share the surgeon's secret pleasure in popping zits.5 It would be great if a startup could give us something of the old world of credentials and into the new one of performance. They seemed a little surprised at having total freedom. Do you actually want to start one. People don't do hard things gratuitously; no one will work on a harder problem than bad submissions.

Using first and rest means 50% more typing. If I were going to do this was at trade shows.6 Well, food shows that pretty clearly. There used to be a genius who will need to be designed to be lived in as your office? It can't be something you have to charm them. Common Lisp. It's true, certainly, but the people.

Parents will tend to produce results that annoy people: there's no use in telling people things they already believe, and people will behave differently depending on which they're in, just as there are in the real world, you can't bully customers, so you may as well face that. Three of the most valuable things you could do is find a middle-sized non-technology company and spend a couple weeks just watching what they do so well that those who don't understand it are driven to invent conspiracy theories to explain how Plato and Aristotle became revered texts to be mastered and discussed. That sounds hipper than Lisp.7 And vice versa: when you can get from modern technology. A rounds, that would explain why they'd care about valuations. People can notice you've replaced email when it's a fait accompli. Google, because it suits the way they generate any other kind of code. One of the less honorable was to shock people.8 Maybe the situation is similar with malaria. The centralizing effect of venture firms is a double one: they cause startups to form around them, and above all, it helps them be decisive. The first is that you don't see the scary part upfront.

But what a difference it makes to be able to reach most of the startups who believed that. Control as Possible. It's also what causes smart people to be curious about certain things and not others.9 So you start painting. Hackers are perfectly capable of hearing the voice of the customer without a business person to amplify the signal for them.10 To many people, Lisp is a natural fit for server-based software. When people used to ask me how many people our startup had, and I don't understand. Their tastes aren't completely different from other people's point of view, instead of forcing everything into a mold of classes and methods. They know their audience. There's inevitably a difference in how things feel within the company.11 Most philosophical debates are not merely afflicted by but driven by confusions over words.

This a helps them pick the right startups, and b if you seem impressive, they'll be going against thousands of years studying really be a waste of time, that programming languages don't become popular or unpopular based on what expert hackers think of them, and if this new Lisp will be used to hack. Probably not. The problem with feeling you're doomed is not just that hackers understand technology better, but that they won't take risks. Too bad.12 What do people complain about?13 In the matter of platforms this tendency is even more singular in having its own defense built in. The 2005 summer founders ranged in age from 18 to 28 average 23, and there is no secret cabal making it all work. Yes, the price to earnings ratio is kind of high, but I don't see why it ought to be the new way that server-based application, and it is the Internet, not cable.14

When I say startups are designed to grow fast. Weekly dinners saved them from a common problem: choosing a small, dark, noisy apartment. But there is a fixed amount of it.15 Most American cities have been turned inside out. On the surface it feels like the kind of founders who have the balls to turn down a big offer also tend to be less insistent.16 However, the VCs have a weapon they can use it. But it was a good thing. That depends.17 I once spent a month painting three versions of a still life I set up in about four minutes. But most of the startups that can retain control tend to be far better than everyone else. Part of the problem is to make money from it, it tends to support the charisma theory more than contradict it. That's the main reason Lisp isn't currently popular.

Notes

You owe them such updates on your thesis. It also set off an extensive and often useful discussion on the one the Valley, the editors will have to keep their wings folded, as on Reddit, for the first meeting. Your Brain, neurosurgeon Frank Vertosick recounts a conversation in which practicing talks makes them overbuild: they'll create huge, overcomplicated agreements, and 20 in Paris.

The kind of social engineering—9. But the change is a major cause of economic equality in the narrow technical sense of the words out of loyalty to the way I know of this article used the term whitelist instead of uebfgbsb.

While the US. Price of Inequality.

Quite often at YC.

In this essay wrote: My feeling with the solutions. 7x a year to keep the number of restaurants that still require jackets for men. At first I didn't like it that the main reason I don't know enough about the other writing of literary theorists.

If you have to rely on social conventions about executive salaries.

The markets seem to be spread out geographically. Maybe it would be enough to supply the activation energy to start software companies, summer 2010. That would be reluctant to start over from scratch, rather than by selling recordings. So if you pack investor meetings with So, can I make it self-interest explains much of the corpora.

In-Q-Tel that is exactly my point. The key to wasting time is distraction. University Press, 1983. The reason for the tenacity of the x division of Megacorp is now the first year or two make the hiring point more strongly.

I'm writing about one specific, rather than given by other people in the process of trying to hide wealth from the government. But their founders, and that you could only get in the 1984 ad isn't Microsoft, would not be incorporated, but whether it's good, but viewed from the truth. Though nominally acquisitions and sometimes on a hard technical problem. My first job was scooping ice cream in the startup eventually becomes.

But so many of the aircraft is. William R.

As a friend with small children, or because they are within any given college. Trevor Blackwell presents the following scenario. After Greylock booted founder Philip Greenspun out of them.

Incidentally, this is: we currently filter at the moment the time of unprecedented federal power, so they'll understand how lucky they are by ways that have already launched or can be explained by math. But you can say they're not. Many hope he was skeptical about things you've written or talked about convergence. Eric Raymond says the best new startups.

They say to most people realize, because they've learned more, because spam and legitimate mail volume both have distinct daily patterns. Wittgenstein asserted a sort of love is as frightening as it were better to make money, buy beans in giant cans from discount stores. It's possible that companies will one day is the most successful companies have little to bring corporate bonds; a decade of inflation that left many public companies trading below the value of understanding per se but from which a few months by buying good programmers instead of reacting.

But scholars seem to be a good deal for you; who knows who you start fundraising, because that's how both publishers and audiences treat it. See, we don't have the perfect life, and can hire skilled people to start or join startups. The US is becoming more fragmented, and this is one problem where rapid prototyping doesn't work. Thanks to Paul Buchheit for the first to state this explicitly.

I'm not saying that good paintings must have been in the sale of products, because talks are usually more desperate for money.

I suspect the recent resurgence of evangelical Christianity in the process of selling things to them. But when you depend on Aristotle would be great for VCs if the founders are in a band, or Seattle, 4 in DC, 6 in Chicago, 8 in London, 13 in New York. A has an operator for removing spaces from strings and language B doesn't, that I knew, there are already names for this purpose are still called the option of deferring to a partner from someone they respect.

For example, because any invention has a power law dropoff, but in practice signalling hasn't been much of the organization—specifically increased demand for them. In practice it just feels like it that the path from ideas to startups. You could probably starve the trolls of the great painters in history supported themselves by painting portraits. Security always depends more on the way we met Charlie Cheever sitting near the door.

Thanks to Carolynn Levy, Joshua Reeves, Paul Buchheit, Aaron Iba, Robert Morris, Jessica Livingston, and Trevor Blackwell for reading a previous draft.

[musicallisto]

☀ Little Red Seal (pt. i)

In honor of the end of ES. These dorks have lighten up my Fridays for two years and I will miss them entirely. Hope this can make you crack a smile and remind you of better days.

word count: 3100+ words summary: In which Quinn leaves for six days because of a family affair and has no one to take care of her enthusiastic dog while she’s away - fortunately, her eleven loyal best friends are here to save the day. author notes: This will be mostly fluff and fun, but some bits are more stressful like this part! no romantic pairings, everyone is friends. AU: the gang finally reunited, alive and well being huge irresponsible dorks. the ending we deserved tbh. This will be in six parts, because otherwise it will get way too long. I randomized the pairs/teams for this series because I thought it would be more fun! Enjoy!

“THANK YOU SO much for coming on such short notice. You’re really taking a thorn out of my side,” Quinn repeated for the hundredth time at least, pacing furiously everywhere in her living room.

The nervous sound of her heels resonating against the wooden floor - click, click, click - had been the only audible sound for five minutes now as the redhead tried her best to keep her sophisticated bun neat and in place. Michelle had tried to count the amount of times she had paced like a caged lion apparently looking for her phone or her car keys, only to find out they were in her hands the whole time, thanked them for coming around and then went back to gallop around the sofas, but she had lost count after the seventh time.

“Really, it’s okay, Quinn. We’re happy to help,” she replied for the hundredth time as well, her hands furrowed in her pockets - she was this close to walking up to her best friend and having her sit down and keep calm for a second. She was going mad just by looking at her raging wandering.

“Yeah, we love doggos,” Craig added, gently petting the auburn fur of the English Cocker Spaniel, obediently sitting on his right. “They kinda remind me of me. Fun, sporty and a bit smelly.”

“I’m sure taking care of Rónán will be super fun,” Michelle enthusiastically continued, smiling widely. “And you know we can always call reinforcement if we need it. I promise you there’s nothing to worry about!”

Quinn sighed, leaning on the arm of her sofa. She looked down at her furry best friend with a kind smile - it was the first time she was leaving Rónán for more than a weekend, but an important family matter had come up and she was unable to decline the invitation. It would be six days, six days during which she would be away, not knowing if her energetic companion would be alright, and she probably would have freaked out completely if Michelle and Craig hadn’t sensed her despair and volunteered to take care of him for all the duration of her absence. Quinn was perfectly aware Rónán could be... a handful, and she didn’t want to burden her friends with such a charge at first, but when she realized she had no backup plan and after they actively convinced her it was really their idea and they were more than eager to spend a week with the happy young dog.

“Okay, so remember that Rónán has to be brushed - once a week should be enough -, and don’t forget the scissors for the underside of his paws, and to clean his ears, and give him a treat when you’re done with the upkeep, and grooming takes more or less three hours, but you won’t need to bathe him though, his dry food is under the sink, oh and never, ever give him chocolate and-”

“Quinn”, Michelle scowled, adopting her best surgeon voice, the authoritarian yet gentle one that tolerates no riposte, “we will be okay. Do you think I’m the type to be careless? Rónán is in good hands with us. If you should be worrying about someone, it’s Craig.”

“Hey!” the big man barked, outraged. “I don’t see why. I’m perfectly fine and - whoa, careful, pup! That was my foot!”

Quinn laughed, her habitual smile finally adorning her features. Craig and Michelle were going to be amazing keepers for her precious companion, she could be sure of it. Glancing rapidly at her watch, she got up, grabbed her suitcase, hugged her two friends, reminded them she owed them big time - to which Michelle answered the only thing she asked as a repayment is that she stopped thanking her -, affectionately ruffled the top of Rónán’s head and disappeared through her front door, heading to the airport, leaving her best friends together to look after each other, for better or for worse.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, Craig heaved out a sigh, mixture of relief and pure terror.

“Man, no pressure, right?”

“Okay, Craig, I know about your tendency to... cut loose from what you’re told to do, but... please don’t screw up. Quinn trusts us and this means the world for her.”

“Uh, excuse me? I don’t ‘screw up’. I’m a pro.”

“I’d call throwing into a bonfire six months’ worth of Sean’s essays a pretty big screw-up.”

“Yeah, well I-”

He was abruptly interrupted by a high-pitched whine at his feet. Looking down, Craig was taken aback by the pleading eyes of the puppy and his sadly wagging tail, as if he were desperately trying to tell his new masters something with his canine sorrow.

“Aw, Meech, look, he’s giving me the puppy look! He must want us to stop bickering.”

“Craig, he’s literally a puppy, that’s why he’s giving you the puppy l-”

But Craig had stopped listening to the med, crouched by the dog’s side to reach his little height, his face leaning to meet Rónán’s, their noses almost touching, a huge smile spread on his lips. He could feel the dog’s highly discouraging hot breath blowing directly on his face, but at that precise moment, the adorableness of the small animal had simply erased every other sensation.

“Ain’t that right, huh, pup? You’re whining because you want us to stop fighting and you want us to stop fighting because you’re a goooood doggo,” he slurred with an abnormally deep voice, contently scratching the furry, auburn chin of the pet.

“Please, Craig, he’s literally whining because he’s hungry,” Michelle snapped at him, crouching down beside Craig and carefully taking Rónán in her arms. At the mention of the last word, the dog excitedly looked down at his new savior, his new goddess, the one who had understood the deepest of his desires: food.

“Oh, you’re probably right. I’ll get the food!” Craig exclaimed, energetically running to the kitchen, leaving Michelle with her newest patient.

“We’ll take good care of you, don’t worry,” the surgeon hummed under her breath, lovingly petting the top of Rónán’s head, right between his enormous, curly, and absolutely adorable ears. “And don’t be afraid of Craig...,” she laughed to herself, still caressing the puppy, her gestures kind and motherly, something she had never noticed in her. “He can be a handful at times, but he’s nice, you’ll see.”

“Meech! Where do I find the dish?” resonated from the kitchen door, left wide open.

Michelle, laughing heartily now, carefully set down the dog; he immediately started wagging his tail, more vigorously now, and raised his eyes, full of hope and belief, to the young woman.

“I should probably help him,” she murmured with a smile.

It was undeniably going to be a fascinating week, to say the least.

“Why do you hate me, Meech?”

“What do you mean? I don’t hate you, Craig.”

“I dunno. You’re always mean and sassy with me. It’s like you despise me.”

The two young adults were sprayed on the couch, a cold Heineken each open, their eyes glued on some reality TV program on television - something about ladies competing for a foreign King’s hand - without even taking in the information flickering in front of their faces. The night had fallen for some time now; Michelle hadn’t looked at her watch for a long time, but she estimated it must have been three hours since Quinn had left them with Rónán. So far so good, she had thought to herself after feeding the animal. Craig turned out to be more delicate than she could ever have imagined with the small beast, caressing his fur with gentleness and even giving him a few treats after his meal - he had insisted, arguing that he deserved a dessert since he, unfortunately, couldn’t have alcohol. Michelle had rolled her eyes, but let him proceed nevertheless. They had nearly collapsed on Quinn’s sofa after grabbing refreshments from her fridge - she wouldn’t mind, right? Although they had spent very little time with the dog, allowing him to play around the house without paying too much attention to him or being glued to the poor boy, they were exhausted, as though the mere concept of being in charge of someone was physically draining.

Michelle sighed heavily. It was true she was accustomed to having her snarky façade on whenever she talked to other people, but that was the way she was, the way she had been brought up and forged through adolescence - and Craig, although far from being stupid, had a harder time understanding that than the others.

Because she didn’t have any special resentment towards Craig, right?

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m that way with everyone. Jake acts like that too and you never whined because he ‘hated you’.”

“But it’s like it goes deeper than that with me. Is it because you hooked up with my best friend?”

“Jesus, Craig, I know subtlety is not your forte, but-”

“I know you think I’m stupid,” he continued, bringing the freezing bottle to his lips and swallowing a large mouthful of beer. “You’re not the only one. That’s my role. I know it. I’m the dumb jock. And Sean is the nice jock. I get it. But you know, it would be cool if you didn’t constantly treat me like a... nobody. A good-for-nothing, yanno. It’s... It gets tiring.”

Michelle remained silent, her beer hanging over a precipice of rugged carpets and white sofas. She had never thought about the effect her behavior - coupled with all the others’ - could have on Craig, since he had always looked like someone who wasn’t concerned one bit about the way people viewed him. All of sudden, she was at a loss for words, conflicted, her fingers shaking a little.

“Listen, Craig, I-”

Her sentence was cut sharp by a brusque sound coming from behind the sofa, far from their field of vision. Michelle, suddenly tensed, placed the bottle on the coffee table and straightened up, eyeing the back of the piece of furniture.

There wistfully sat Rónán, his long, fluffy ears apologetically sweeping the bright wooden floor of the living room, looking down with a grimace and a canine frown at a pool of brownish vomit at his paws.

“He threw up,” Michelle announced, a wave of sympathy and concern engulfing her, just like when one of her patients had a negative reaction to one of her treatments.

“Oh,” Craig sighed sadly. “I guess you don’t really like chocolate, huh, little guy?”

Michelle froze instantly. She turned her iron gaze towards an oblivious Craig with an agonizing slowness.

“You. Gave. Him. What?”

“Uh... chocolate? I read dogs like ch-”

“For fuck’s sake, Craig, chocolate is toxic for dogs!” Michelle yelled, standing up in a swift movement, half of her bones cracking at the unexpected gesture. She tried to hide the anxious trembling of her fingers by running a desperate hand through her mane. “In what timeline and in what dimension did you think it was a good idea to give him chocolate?!”

“I-I don’t know!” he screamed in return, eyes darting furiously between Michelle, his beer and the terrified-looking puppy, who apparently didn’t understand the sudden racket. “He was giving me the puppy look, I-”

“It’s a puppy! It’s the only look it has!” Michelle continued roaring, her hands flying around her body to give more credibility to her anger now. “Please- stop thinking!”

“I-I-I’m sorry! I screwed up! I didn’t know-”

“Of course you didn’t! You never know anything! This is serious, Craig! It can be lethal! Just... just... just clean up this mess and I’ll take care of Rónán!”

“Can you.. cure him?”

“I operate on kids with appendicitis, Craig! Not intoxicated Spaniels!”

“R-Right!” he exclaimed, running to the bathroom, frantically searching for a floorcloth to salvage Quinn’s floor.

Michelle ran to scoop the shaking puppy in her arms as delicately as she could. Truth to be told, she had acted all severe and confident when facing Craig, but she had been transported by exasperation and nerves and had, in fact, no idea what to do. She had been trained to give heart transplants, not save a dog from food poisoning! She didn’t even know if it was grave enough to go to the vet, and even if it was, she had no idea where she could find a clinic still open at that hour, or just any clinic, really - she didn’t know the neighborhood, and definitely didn’t have the time to check on the Internet, and even less stroll around the streets with the dog cradled in her arms hoping to stumble across a green cross...

What could she do? What did she know that could be useful? What had she learned about humans that could be applied to animals? What would Quinn say if she found out they had put Rónán in such danger? Would she hate them? Would she ever trust them with something important? Was she really that irresponsible? She never made those kinds of careless mistakes, she was trained, she had specially studied to face those critical situations, never to let any detail escape from her mind, and yet there she was; could she consider herself a good surgeon after all? What could she do, what could she do? Could she try to give him water, just like she would have done for a patient with food poisoning? But for a dog? Would it work? Could she try that artisanal remedy? What could she do, what c-

“What are you doing, Meech?” Craig called out from behind her back, a mop in one hand and a water bucket in the other, running to the lump-filled stain. “Either get him to the vet or make him throw up but don’t stand there like a lemon!”

His voice was full of a sense of urgency, so uncharacteristic: Michelle could witness he was deeply regretting his actions and wanted to make it up to her, to Rónán, to Quinn, and to himself. Abruptly sent back to reality, Michelle stammered inaudible words, almost dropping the pup. “Michelle, you got this. You’ve had worse crises.” Her inner voice rang strong and sharp inside her mind, and all the critical decisions she’d had to take in her life flashed before her eyes in an instant. Taking a deep, cold breath, she ran to the bathroom, holding securely the ginger puppy against her heart, whose eyelids were starting to flutter heavily. She knew how to make a dog vomit; she had been overwhelmed by nerves and the fear of Quinn’s hatred if something bad happened to Rónán while he was under her responsibility. She had completely lost her composure, something that never happened normally. Something she had been prepared, educated to avoid for years. Biting her lip, she scanned the drawers for a syringe, but her research remained fruitless; Rónán had now gone completely immobile in her arms. She was about to leave the room when her eyes caught the sight of a little note on the sink - picking it up, she recognized Quinn’s cursive handwriting... and the address of her habitual veterinarian. She breathed out the longest sigh of relief in her entire life.

“Craig!” she called. “Take the keys, we’re going to the vet!”

The drive home was lulled by the soft sound of an indie rock song playing on Michelle’s car radio. Craig, riding shotgun, glanced every now and then at the sound asleep, fluffy figure on the backseat with fondness. His armored, football heart had been pierced by the big, black eyes of the red puppy. Rónán was out of danger thanks to the treatment provided by the veterinarian, much more elaborate than anything Michelle could have ever done. Her fingers drummed mindlessly on the steering wheel, biting back yawns. In the end, she had panicked for something merely trivial that could’ve been resorted with a simple visit to a clinic, but she was terrified of letting Quinn down that she had let her nerves get the best of her. She was eager to finally let the Cocker rest in his bed, and sleep herself. It was close to midnight and she was starting to feel the rampage of a migraine closing in, like claws tightening around her temples.

“Hey, Craig?” she asked softly, partly because her headache was dangerously threatening and partly because she didn’t want to be rebuffed violently.

“Hm?” the man groaned, his eyes fixed on the escaping night road outside the window.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. You snapped me out of it and you... were actually the calm and reasonable one,” she laughed nervously. “And I’m sorry for the way I treat you. I didn’t think it affected you that much, I wouldn’t have if I had known about it. I’m sorry. Really.”

“Nah, it’s okay, Meech,” Craig shrugged. “You stressed out. It happens. And I’m kinda used to being seen like that by now.”

“But that’s the saddest part of it. You shouldn’t be used to being taken for granted. I want to make sure you get used to being treated like a damn hero. Because that’s what you are. You’re way too cool to be taken for granted.”

A small smile crept onto Craig’s lips, unstoppable.

“Yeah, guess I’m freaking cool after all. But thanks, Meech.”

“Now don’t tell anyone I went soft on you or I’ll choke you with my Gucci.”

He laughed, and she smiled to herself, a bit revived after the nerve-racking events of the evening. Looking up to the rear-view, her eyes met the peaceful puppy, wiggling instinctively in his sleep, his ears folded back on his eyes like an umbrella protecting him from the outside world... and her grin grew even wider. It seemed like a young, carefree, hairy companion was exactly what Michelle needed to unwind, and put things into perspective.

A dim, blue light suddenly filled the passenger compartment of the car.

“Taylor asks how the babysitting is going,” Craig distractedly announced, typing something on his phone.

A puckish glint lit up in Michelle’s eyes, still focused on the road.

“Tell her she can come meet the little guy if she’d like.”

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter 9: $202

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

that noise you hear? its me. screaming. college is horrific and im super screwed please write this essay on the decameron for me

im ALMOST done with nano!! (as you can tell from the wordcount) there might not be a chapter update by the end of the month but i will hit my goal! wow magic. little bit of a shorter chapter this time cause uhhhh ive never claimed to be good at this

shoutout to my lovely friends for all their contributions to this fic. particularly thank you to cam for the amazing project name

warnings: anxiety, hints of bad eating habits

enjoy!

Evan pulls off his scarf and hangs it in his locker.

It’s finally snowed.

It snowed a few times before, October is notorious for it’s random snowstorms, but this is the first time this year it’s stuck. It started snowing Sunday morning and almost an inch gathered by mid afternoon. It was pretty light and uneventful, but Evan still made a point to send a picture of a snow dusted tree to Connor. Connor had replied ‘aesthetic’ and sent a picture of a plant Cynthia put in the living room that was mostly just dying.

Evan hangs up his coat and shoves the mittens in the sleeves. November is ending and only now does he really need to wear a coat to school. And take the bus. It’s hell.  

“So this is why you have a locker,” Connor says.

“You have a locker too,” Evan reminds him.

Connor laughs. “No I fucking don’t, not if I can’t tell you which one it is.”

Evan shakes his head. “You’re just lazy.”

“Yes.”

“But if you ever need to hang up a coat you’re welcome to use mine.”

Connor tilts his head. “Ev, what makes you think I’m weak enough to wear a winter coat?”

Evan stares at him. “The fact that tomorrow it’s supposed to be like six degrees out?”

“We die like men,” Connor says simply. He pulls Evan’s spanish textbook out of the locker and hands it to him.

“You die,” Evan says pointedly. “And your hands are freezing.” Evan stuffs the textbook into his bag and zips it shut. “Do you own gloves?”

“Cool fingerless gloves because it fits the aesthetic,” Connor says, wiggling his fingers.

Evan closes the locker. “You’re the worst.”

Connor bumps their shoulders together. “Come on, Ev, admit they’re cool.”

Evan shakes his head. “They really aren’t.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Connor says as he opens the door to the stairwell.

“Do you think I lie to you?” Evan asks, stopping to look Connor in the eye.

Connor stares at him.

Evan holds his breath. He doesn’t lie to Connor. Nothing he does is a lie. The question is will Connor figure that out. And if he does, will he hate him for it.

Connor rolls his eyes. “You just haven’t seen them yet. They’re cool.”

“Whatever you say,” Evan mutters. He starts down the stairs. “Has Jared started yet?”

“Started what?”

Evan opens the door at the bottom of the stairwell and holds it for Connor. “He has your phone number right?”

Connor frowns. “Yeah? Is something horrible about to happen?”

“What’s your definition of horrible?”

“Evan.”

“What?” Evan stops walking. “Don’t you go down?” He nods to the stairs.

Connor shrugs. “Yeah, but I can go the long way with you. What is Jared going to do?”

“Thanksgiving is Thursday,” Evan says slowly.

“Thank god. I don’t know how we’re getting through Wednesday but I’m fucking dying.”

“We have a half day, Connor.” Evan steps closer to him to squeeze past a group of students crowded around a locker.

“Who cares.” Connor looks down at him. “Anyway, what shit is Kleinman up to? And what does Thanksgiving have to do with it?”

“What happens after Thanksgiving?” Evan asks.

“People try to kill each other over jeans?” Connor suggests.

Evan snorts. “I-I mean, yeah, but it’s Christmas—”

“Jared is Jewish,” Connor interrupts. “I’m also Jewish. You’re Jewish.”

Evan glances up at him. “I know. He has this playlist of Christmas songs that he blasts in his car. I don’t know why. But he also has a playlist of Jewish parodies.”

“I’m sorry what?”

Evan sighs. “There’s one that’s called Shalom and he sang it for like a week. Basically, December is Jared’s favorite time of year because he can be an asshole under the guise of being ‘festive’.”

Connor groans. “Please don’t say he’s going to send me links to all these videos.”

“He will. I’m warning you.” Evan pauses. “Uh, this is my stop.” He motions to the classroom to their right.

Connor nods. “Cool. I’ll see you later, I have to go block Jared’s number.”

Evan smiles as Connor walks away and takes a deep breath before he goes into the classroom and sits down.

His pocket is light.

It’s Monday. Connor didn’t pay him today.

Evan rests his chin in his hand and hides his smile.

Maybe Connor just forgot. But it feels nice. Like this is real.

That’s what Evan wants.

—«·»—

“I’ve been talking to Baz,” Alana says, flipping through her notebook as she walks. Evan nods. “I think she might be a good advisor for the club? Students typically feel relatively comfortable talking to her and I know she’s discussed mental health at the beginning of the year before.”

Evan tightens one of the straps of his backpack. “Okay. I, um, we need a name before we talk to her?”

Alana shakes her head. “I think we can just discuss the idea with her, even if we don’t have all the details solidified yet. If she’s against the idea, regardless of the current state of the details, we have to find a new advisor.”

“Oh.” Evan steps away from Alana to let someone pass between them. “Do you… Like… Does it ever feel…not worth it?”

Alana furrows her eyebrows but doesn’t look over to him. “What do you mean?”

“You won’t even be around for the club, n-not really?” Evan shrugs. “It’s…a lot of work for something you won’t be around to see, I guess.”

“Well…” She slows her steps. “I mean, hopefully it’ll start next semester, and if not we can always say we took the step to start a discussion of mental health in the school but…it could help other people?”

Evan’s ears burned. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” Alana says. “I’ve wondered it myself. There’s no glory in getting the details perfect if you aren’t there to run it, but if we help other people, I think it’s worth it in the end.”

Evan walks up to his locker and puts in the combination. “Y-you’re right, sorry I just— sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s valid to think about.” Alana taps her nails against her notebook. “Now if only we could come up with a name…”

“A name for what?” Connor asks.

Evan looks up at him in surprise. “Isn’t your next class on the other side of the school?”

Connor shrugs. “Who gives a shit?”

“A name for our club,” Alana says, fixing her glasses. “It has a focus on mental health and starting a conversation about it in our school.”

“This club,” Connor says. He tugs on the strap of his bag. “What are you working with for names?”

Evan and Alana exchange a glance.

“Nothing,” Alana says after a moment. “I was thinking maybe we could have the word ‘project’ in the name, but I haven’t come up with anything that’s stuck. Do you have any suggestions?”

“The Fuck Project,” Connor deadpans.

Evan covers his eyes with a hand.

“We are not calling it the Fuck Project,” Alana says.

“It’ll get people’s attention,” Connor points out.

“Not in a good way,” Evan mutters. He drags his hand down his face and looks at Connor, who’s grinning at him.

“We do need to get this approved by the principal,” Alana adds. “And that name will give people the wrong idea, that is absolutely not what this club is about.”

Connor shrugs a shoulder. “Temporary name, congrats, I helped out.”

“Not really.”

The warning bell rings and Alana glances over her shoulder.

“I should go,” she says, “but I’ll text you about Baz?”

Evan nods. “Y-yeah that’s— okay yeah. I’ll see you later?”

Alana smiles and hurries down the hall.

Connor watches her leave. “Baz?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Um, yeah.” Evan grabs the books he needs and closes the locker with his foot. “We need an advisor and Lana thinks Baz might be willing to help? Have you had her?”

Connor shakes his head. “Baz teaches the CP kids, usually. I’ve been, uh, honors.”

Evan blinks. “Oh yeah, I forgot college prep was a thing. She taught regular english sophomore year.”

“You had her?” Connor asks.

“Uh…kind of?”

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Bad semester,” Evan mutters. “I, uh… There weren’t a lot of classes I…went to?”

Connor nods. “Got it.”

“Don’t you have class?” Evan asks quickly. His head is starting to spin.

“Yeah, I just.” Connor steps closer and Evan’s heart skips a few beats. “I’m sorry I forgot this earlier.” He presses a bill into Evan’s hand.

Evan closes his eyes.

Right.

Right. Right, of course. Connor just forgot. He didn’t mean anything by it. He’s sticking to the agreement.

Evan feels sick.

He crumples the bill up in his fist. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he mumbles.

“It won’t happen again,” Connor promises.

Evan’s hand feels like it’s on fire.

—«·»—

Jared tosses his bag onto the couch and disappears into the kitchen. “Have you gotten any better about keeping food in your house?” he shouts.

Evan rolls his eyes. “Why do I need t-to buy food when you do it for me?”

Jared leans out of the doorway. “Fuck off, man, you never buy the chips I like.”  

“Exactly.”

Jared glares at Evan and ducks back into the kitchen. “Hungry?”

“Not really.” Evan reaches into his pocket and grabs the ten dollar bill Connor handed to him earlier. “Meet me up in my room?”

“Sure, stealing this chocolate, B-T-dubs.”

“I can’t stop you,” Evan mutters. “Bring up your bag! Don’t leave it on the couch!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Evan leaves Jared to pull apart the kitchen and heads up to his room. He leaves his backpack on his bed and pulls open his closet, pushing aside sweatshirts to get to a shoebox he’s buried. He pulls the ten out of his pocket and stares at it for a moment before he takes the top off the shoebox and puts it inside. Then he covers it back up with his sweatshirts and closes his closet door.

Now he can pretend it doesn’t exist.

When Jared kicks open the bedroom door with popcorn in one hand and chocolate in the other, Evan is sitting on his bed with his laptop open.

“Wow, lame,” Jared says. Evan glances up at him. “I’m kidding,” Jared says quickly. “That’s exactly what I did yesterday.” He drops down into Evan’s desk chair. “How’d you spend your weekend?”

Evan shrugs. “Same. S-some homework and uh…spent Friday with Connor.”

Jared opens his bag of popcorn. “I’ve been fucking dying to know, what have you spent all that money on? Murphy has to have given you a shit ton at this point.”

Evan stares at his laptop screen, rubbing his hands on his pants. “N-nothing yet it just…it feels weird.” He can feel Jared’s eyes on him and feels a panic build in his chest. “It feels weird! It’s just— it’s in a box in my closet.”

“Sweet.” Jared stands up.

“Jared!”

“Okay, okay, yeah, that was kind of dicky.” Jared falls back down into the chair. “I wasn’t going to take it, I was joking. Your money dude, you earned it with your weird uh…situation.” Evan makes a face. “Don’t fucking do that with your face, you know this is weird.”

“Shut up,” Evan mutters. He could go into a coma right now and that would be fine.

“We can start a list of things you could buy with it.” Jared throws a piece of popcorn into the air and tries to catch it in his mouth. It bounces off his right lense and lands on the floor. “I’ll get that later. Anyway. List.”

Evan glances to his closet.

“One, not shitty sneakers. Two, shirts that aren’t polos. Three, so much candy. Four, a video game. Five, multiple video games even, I don’t know how much money you have. Six, something nice for your mom cause you’re a real momma’s boy. Seven, a fuck ton of yugioh cards—”

“Yugioh cards?” Evan interrupts.

“Yes.” Jared throws a piece of popcorn at Evan. “Let me finish.”

Evan shakes his head. “I think I get it.” He closes his laptop and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “You don’t want the money sitting in my closet.”

“No shit.” Jared tosses Evan the chocolate bar. “You can have half. But yeah, you’ve got money, dude, it’s not gonna fucking collect interest if it’s in the back of your closet or anything. You’re spending all this time doing this bullshit job, why not actually use what you get paid?”

Evan opens the chocolate bar and breaks it in half before handing the half in the packaging back to Jared. “I-I already told you. It feels…weird. I don’t know.”

“You know,” Jared says as he takes the chocolate, “this is kind of a sugar daddy situation.”

Evan immediately goes red. “Oh my god.”  

“Minus the sex stuff,” Jared says casually. “And the age difference, cause I don’t think Murphy is that much older you, is he?”

Evan is ready to melt into the ground. Or die. Or both. Both would be perferrable. “Jared, please—”

“Sugar buddy,” Jared says, snapping his fingers. “Connor is your sugar buddy.”

“This is the worst.”

Jared takes a bite of chocolate. “Do you have a better name for this?”

Friendship? Evan wants to just call it friendship. That’s totally not the case but—

“We can call it platonic prostitution if you want.”

“If you say that again I am kicking you out of my house.”

Jared holds up his hands in surrender. “Valid. That is totally valid.”

Evan starts breaking up his half the chocolate bar into smaller pieces. “I just… I don’t know. It’s weird. It’s a weird situation. But let’s not call it…that.”

“Yeah,” Jared agrees. “Fucking weirdass… Kind of regret helping out with it, honestly. It feels like a trainwreck I can’t look away from.”

“Really comforting there, Jared,” Evan mutters.  

Jared spins in the desk chair. “I’m just saying, what started out as a funny ha ha losers thing has gotten decidedly less funny.”

Evan furrows his eyebrows. “What was this funny?”

“Dude, come on, at least the first week was fucking hilarious,” Jared says with a crooked smile. It seems forced, but it’s still there.

Evan grimaces. “It wasn’t.”

Jared loses the smile. “Okay. It wasn’t funny, my bad.”

Evan makes a strangled sound. “Do you talk to Connor?” Some of the chocolate is starting to melt. He pops a piece of it into his mouth.

Jared snorts. “Hell no. We coexist, are you really going to ask more of us?”

“No,” Evan admits. “But if I tell you something, you won’t tell him?”

Jared gives him a weird look. “Tell him?”

Evan stares at him with wide eyes. “You’re already judging me!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

Jared throws his hands in the air. “I don’t even know what I would be judging you for!”

“I want Connor to stop paying me.”

Jared stares at Evan.

Evan’s hands start to sweat and his heart races. He looks down at the chocolate in the palm of his hand and eats it before it can melt any more. He wipes his hands on his pants. Then he wipes them again.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jared says once the silence is too long and too awkward and too uncomfortable.

Evan groans and collapses on the bed. “I just—”

“Want to be friends?” Jared offers.

“Um…yes, but also—”

Jared sits up straighter. “You didn’t.”

Evan pulls on his fingers. “I…what?”

“You’re in love with him!” Jared shouts.

“No!” Evan almost falls off the bed as he scrambles to his feet. “No, I don’t—”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s just— it’s just a crush oh my god, Jared.”

Jared raises his eyebrows. “You said crush.”

Evan’s face gets hot. “Uh, yeah I— it-it’s not… I mean… I don’t think… It’s not like a big…deal? Or anything?”  

Jared stares at him. “Evan, it’s a big deal.”

Evan laughs awkwardly. “W-we don’t have to make it one.”

Jared squints. “Okay… I still have to kick your ass in Mario Kart. You ready?”

Evan takes a breath. “You’ve never been able to beat me, Jare. Especially since you keep choosing Rainbow Road.”

Jared jumps out of his seat. “Hell yeah I do, I’m going to mop the floor with your blood.”

Evan smiles. “Okay. If you say so.”

—«·»—

Jared loses. He swears aggressively as he reaches for his wallet to buy dinner.

“I hate you,” he hisses as he shoves a box of mozzarella sticks at Evan.

“Thanks,” Evan says. “Let me know when you want a rematch.”

Jared flips him off and grabs his sandwich off the table.

—«·»—

Heidi comes home as Jared is getting ready to leave. “Jared!” she says in surprise as she puts her bag down on the kitchen table. “I had no idea you were coming over.”

Evan and Jared look up from the television.

“Hey, Heidi, just wanted to steal your TV.” Jared tosses his Wii controller onto the couch.

“Your bag is still in my room,” Evan reminds him.

Jared shoots a fingergun at him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t leave on my account,” Heidi says, pulling her hair out of its ponytail.

“Nah, I have homework,” Jared says. “The moms want me home soon anyway.” He checks his phone and makes a face. “Yeah I should go, but thanks for letting me invade your house.”

“Anytime, Jared,” she says.

Jared grabs his bag from Evan’s room and bumps his shoulder against Evan’s as he goes to leave, wiggling his eyebrows.

Evan rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he whispers.

Jared mimes zipping his lips. “See you tomorrow in hell.”

When Jared is gone, Evan finds his mom doing the dishes in the kitchen. “Can I help?” he asks.

She holds out a pot. “Dry and put away?”

Evan nods and takes it from her.

“It’s nice that you’re hanging out with Jared again,” Heidi muses. She washes a cup and sets it aside for Evan.

“Hm?” Evan dries off the pot and puts it in the cabinet next to the oven.

“You and Jared. You haven’t really spent a lot of time with him lately.”

“Oh.” Evan grabs the cup. “He’s been over. We…hang out and stuff.”

“That’s great.” She smiles at him. “It’s good that you have a friend.”

“Friends,” Evan corrects quickly, feeling guilt twist his stomach. He should be better at this. This friend thing. He should be making more progress than he has.

Heidi looks at him in surprise. “You’ve never mentioned anyone else before.”  

“Uh, yeah.” Evan keeps his eyes on the dishes he’s drying. “Connor.” He says it and then tries not to think about it. “And um…Alana?”

“Oh!” Heidi puts down the dish soap. “Well that’s great! We should try to have dinner with them sometimes.”

Evan ducks his head. “Mom.”

“I want to meet your friends!”

“I— uh…okay, I’ll um, ask them about it.” Evan decides he should never speak again. He keeps digging his holes deeper and deeper.

Evan talks with Connor by his locker. He walks with Connor in the halls. He smiles and laughs and pretends his chest isn’t constricting.

Connor looks at him and sometimes it feels real.

The ten isn’t in Evan’s pocket anymore, but Evan can still feel it’s presence.

They sit together at lunch and Connor pokes at Evan’s jello with a straw and Evan tries to keep his heartrate under control. Connor rambles on about something that happened in AP Lit — which is apparently the only class he pays attention to in any way — and Evan mostly just nods. Connor keeps looking at him and he kind of feels like dying.

Evan feels like he’s dying and then Connor smiles at him and better and it’s worse and Evan hates every part of his existence.

Connor bumps his shoulder against Evan’s and the butterflies in Evan’s stomach fluttered.

—«·»—

Evan sits at his desk and does homework. He hates it but it gives him something to do. His phone buzzes from where it’s plugged in next to his bed. Evan glances at his Spanish textbook. He gets up and checks his messages.

From: Connor To: Evan      can i call?

Evan’s throat immediately feels like it’s closing him. There’s an anchor wrapped around him and it’s dragging him down. Down down down—

He tries to type out a response but his hands are shaking.

Another message pops up on the screen.

From: Connor To: Evan      fuck its not bad shit i just realized how that sounds      im home alone and larry just got back and i dont want to talk to him      if im on the phone hell probably leave me alone

Evan takes a deep breathe and presses his palms against his eyes. It’s fine. It really is fine.

He replies as fast as he can, but it still takes him a minute to calm down.

From: Evan To: Connor      YEah fo course sorry for takin g so long to rpely

Connor’s response is almost immediate.

From: Connor To: Evan      you didnt take long at all ev youre fine      sorry if i scared you      gonna call now

Evan stares at the screen of his phone. As soon as ‘Incoming call from Connor’ pops up, he hits answer.

“Hello?” Evan sits down on the edge of his bed and grips the blankets.

“Hey,” Connor says. He sounds kind of tired. “Sorry if I freaked you out, didn’t think before I sent that.”

“It’s fine,” Evan promises. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. A moment of panic. They can move on. “W-what do you want to, um, to talk about?”

“Don’t really know,” Connor admits. “Nice to talk to you, you sound different over the phone.”

Evan smiles. “So do you.” Connor’s voice sounds a bit deeper. Maybe rougher. “Someone thought I was a dad once when I had to call to cancel an appointment.”

“What?” There’s laughter in Connor’s voice and it makes Evan’s head spin. “How the fuck?”

“I don’t know. I-I just— I was trying to cancel and they were like ‘the patient’ and I was confused but was too scared to ask and then they asked my relation to the patient and were like ‘are you his father?’ and I was just kind of like… Well no, I’m the patient.”

Connor snorts. “Amazing. I’m proud of you for cancelling your son’s appointment.”

Evan leans back on his hands. “N-no they— we sorted it out. I almost threw up afterward but uh…probably could’ve gone worse.”

“Phone calls aren’t your thing, huh?” Connor asks. “Sorry for making you do this. If it’s easier for you we can stop.”

Evan shakes his head and then realizes that Connor can’t see him. “No it’s fine. Really, it’s okay with you. It’s nice.” Whoops that was more than he was supposed to share.   

“Okay, if you’re sure. Let me know if you want to hang up.”

“Of course,” Evan murmurs. “Uh… I asked you this like…three hours ago, but how was your day?”

“Pretty shit,” Connor admits. “Right now I’m uh….eating grapes.”

“Well that’s good. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“I never eat lunch.”

Evan hums. “Okay, that’s true.”

“What about you?” Connor asks. “Have you eaten anything today other than shitty cafeteria food?”

“Uh…no,” Evan says slowly. “I’m not super hungry.”

“Get a drink or something for me.”

Evan smiles. “Are you trying to parent me?”

“Fuck, Zoe’s rubbing off on me, isn’t she? How the fuck?” Evan imagines Connor dragging his hand through his hair.

“Her and your mom,” Evan points out. “They aren’t that similar, you know.”

There’s a slight pause. “I guess you’re right. I don’t notice that shit. Zoe’s just…Zoe. I don’t know.”

“Outsider’s perspective,” Evan suggests. “I also don’t live with them, so I might be wrong.”

“Huh.” There’s a pause. “Okay but hydration.”

“I’m going,” Evan promises. He stands up from his bed and heads down the stairs. “Are you staying hydrated?”

Connor clears his throat. “Uh…” Evan smiles as he hears Connor’s bed squeak as Connor stands up. “Yeah of course.”

“You’re going to get a drink, aren’t you?” Evan asks. He walks into the kitchen and pulls a cup from the cupboard.

“No,” Connor says quickly. “Definitely not.”

“Okay.” Evan fills the cup with water and takes a sip. “So uh…sports?”

Something on Connor’s end shuts. “I’m gay.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “Okay. Then you choose the conversation starter.”

“Okay. Did you know that eggplants are fruits?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck there goes my fun fact.”

Evan laughs. “I’m sure you can think of something else.”

“Don’t have faith in me, Ev, it’ll end badly. But give me a second.” Evan drinks his water as Connor thinks. “Okay. Want to hear lots of random shit about Ancient Egypt? Zoe and I had a phase.”

Evan sits down in a kitchen chair. “You know I do.”

“Well get comfortable, because this is going to be a while.”

[meanwhileinoz]

Students Shared The Most Frustrating Moments Where Teachers Graded Them Ridiculously

Scoring well on an exam can be very stressful for everybody.

Burning the midnight oil and studying the textbook inside and out, just to get that perfect score. What sucks the most is when the all-nighters become completely useless because you don’t score well on the exam. Even worse if the reason you didn’t score well on the exam is the teacher’s “out of this world” grading scheme. It just leaves you scratching your head in surprise. There are all sorts of valid reasons why you may not agree with the given grade. And all you want to do is storm to your teacher’s office for justice!

Here are a few of the most frustrating stories of students where teachers graded them ridiculously:

1. This teacher who completely missed out the point of education.

“I had a history teacher who wanted our test answers to be EXACTLY like the textbook.

I know it’s history, you can’t change facts or names, but this woman would not even let us change the grammatical format of the sentence.

For example, if the sentence was ‘he ruled from 1822 to 1840,’ and I wrote ‘his rule lasted from 1822 to 1840,’ she would deduct marks for that. Are you kidding me?

Moreover, if someone tried to argue, she’d deduct their marks for arguing with her. She was a senior teacher and was respected by everyone in school, so we students were really scared to complain. As a result, we had no choice but to mug up each and every word of the text if we wanted to pass!”

– Mahenoor Khan

2. This just leaves us to one question – Is that even a legit scoring system?

“In college I had a Physical Education teacher who on his tests had multiple choice questions where there could be more than one right answer.

If there were five possible choices, then the answer could be that all five may need to be marked, or none of them, or any combination in-between. Each question was worth 1 point, but if you marked all of the options incorrectly you would lose 5 points. Put another way, a twenty-question test was worth 20 points, but you could get very easily receive a negative score, going all the way up to -80%. Since 80% was the required score to pass, this meant that you needed a score of 16, so you could mark no more than 4 options wrong on the entire quiz.

I tried to point out to him that his multiple choice questions were really a set of five “true or false” questions where we had to get all of them right in order to score a single point. Thus, it would make way more sense for each option to be a separate question, meaning it would be a 100-question test worth 100 points, but he just couldn’t see it. He was really good friends with one of my math professors so I had my math professor try to explain it to him with the same result.

Fortunately the test was easy enough that most people were able to figure it out, but for some getting 96% right was virtually impossible. For me it was the whole principle of the thing.”

– Carl E. Zimmerman

3. Perhaps, it’s time to contact the wizards and hobbits.

“It was 10th and 11th Grade English. I had a teacher who was… unconventional. She was simultaneously loved and hated for her antics, wildly inappropriate stories, and oddness.

Unlike most English teachers, In terms of grading, she despised written exams; I remember once she had us do a 2-day written exam about a collection of stories we read, and the next week she came back and said, “Everyone gets an A because my neck hurts from reading all these papers.”

So she mostly stuck to the old multiple choice for her tests. Until she got this ‘fun’ idea.

Both years it was the same deal: the school curriculum said she had to teach us The Great Gatsby and Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, so she’d start the year off having us read various classic books and plays. But here’s the thing: she wasn’t a huge fan of the curriculum. So invariably, halfway through the year (oftentimes in the midst of reading some required book) she’d decide to throw the curriculum out the window and have us read (then watch) J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and watch Lord of the Rings. And just as she threw out the curriculum, so too did she throw out conventional exams.”

– Austin R. Justice

4. At least she was straight up about it.

“I went to an alternative school where your homework for the semester was to write two-page essays on five or six topics.

After you finished your essays, you would take an essay exam that was based on whatever you wrote in your essays. Your grade in the class was entirely determined by that exam.

If you got less than a 90 on the exam, you were allowed to retake it (up to three times). If you got less than a 70 on the exam, you were forced to retake it.

Your exam grade was based on the number of sentences you wrote. A ‘C’ student would write four sentences for each question, a ‘B’ student would write six sentences, and an ‘A’ student would write eight sentences. The teacher told us this in advance.

This was how the grading worked for every class (except math, where the exams were computation-based). For PE classes, we had to write an essay, and take an exam on, the history and rules of the sport.

Honestly, I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

– Jessica Su

5. Bet you’ve never heard of this before.

“My teacher in sixth grade ended the year with a project that had a big impact on our grade. She decided that instead of a normal grading scale, she would grade us on her own scale and tell us what the equivalent letter grade would be. In her scheme, 75 and above would receive an ‘A,’ 60 and above a ‘B,’ something like that.

The only problem was that she still put those number grades directly into the school’s standard grade book (where a 70-80 was a B), so a student who she said got an ‘A’ with 75 would get a B in their official grades!

When I pointed this out and explained the problem, her reply was, ‘Oh, so that’s why students who have done well on the project in previous years  have had their grades drop.’

I don’t know how many years she’d been using this system for, but hopefully it ended with us.”

– Tyler Buchman

6. It leaves us wondering….

“I had a professor in 1973 who had a strange grading system, but one that we all understood. He had a lecture class with hundreds of students, and he had TA’s (graduate student teaching assistants) who graded the exams.

Unfortunately, with essay tests, different TA’s graded slightly differently, so it was possible for two people to give substantially the same answer yet get slightly different scores.

The teacher, though, had a unique solution. If you came up with your friend’s test and showed him that you should have gotten five more points on one answer, he would mark your friend’s test down that five points.

Since he told all of us that was his solution on the first day, nobody complained.

I might add that his grades were generous on average. I was getting a ‘C’ in his class, but probably didn’t deserve it. He ended up giving me a ‘B’ because I demonstrated my knowledge of the subject in verbal conversations with him. I was just lousy at writing essay answers. Nowadays, I’d do better, but we couldn’t use computers back then.”

– Dave Williamson

7. Is this a part of the test?

“This happened with my brother when he was writing an exam.

Before he began, the teacher placed a book in front of everyone’s desk and said, ‘In this book are the answers to your test.’

My brother was flabbergasted. What was going on? He was GIVING away the answers to the test.

Now, my brother is incredibly smart. And has a sense of honor. The test had two possible solutions, one being detailed in the book.  He decided to use his wits, and solve the test the second way, instead of taking the easy route. He solved it successfully without the book.

Two weeks later, everyone got back their results. 60% for all students.

That was the teachers last month at that college. Maybe he wanted to be remembered for messing with his students one final time. Or saving them, for those who didn’t study.”

– Daniel Bauwens

8. I would like to meet this guy.

“I had a College level Theology class where our final examination was worth 95% of our grade and consisted of showing up and finger painting for an hour.

This occurred during my Freshman year at Southern Illinois University. The only class that properly fit into my schedule was a pan-religion theology course taught by a very eccentric hipster teaching assistant in his mid 20’s. He looked sort of like Hagrid from the Harry Potter novels.

This teaching assistant was not a fan of the ‘system,’ or ‘the man.’ In his class we learned such valuable things as conspiracy theories and the salary of our school administrators. If the weather was bearable we’d have class outside.

Anyhow, due to budget cuts the University was considering cutting quite a few majors and classes.”

There’s more….

“The pan-religious theology course was on the chopping block and my professor had a bone to pick with the administrators. He would attend all of their meetings and lobby in favor of the existence of the courses he taught. During one such meeting, apparently a school administrator said to our teacher’s face that the school needed to generate revenue and classes that taught ‘finger painting’ like his would be the first to go. Ouch.

I think our teacher sensed that his days at the University were numbered. However he still had our class and the course’s grading policy was entirely at his discretion. As a parting gesture of defiance he announced that our final would consist of a fun finger painting hour. We all showed up for the final, paints were passed out, and we took our examination. I painted a scenic picture of a sailboat in the ocean. For this I received three college credits and an A+ in pan-religious theology.”

Michael Jones

9. I’m going to duck you marks for that.

“In my freshman year, we had a single class that combined History with English, and had a teacher for each respective subject. They decided together that they would grade us with ducks.

Allow me to explain. They had a 4×4 chart where the leftmost top duck was the happiest and the rightmost bottom duck was the saddest. For every assignment, you received a different ‘duck grade.’

Though strange, this does seem fine in principle as you would think you could still tell around where your grade would be. However, it didn’t really work out that way…

Despite many people getting a majority of leftmost top ducks (including me), only one person in our 40 ish student class actually got an A first semester, so the system proved to be a bit misleading.

When I went in talk to the teachers, along with others in the same confusing situation, we all got the same response. They told us what to work on for next semester, and wouldn’t address the confusion. So, we all tried to do better second semester, and a few did, but the system still felt unjustified to many in my class.

I hope they don’t still do this. Many in my class thought they did this on the basis of favoritism or something discriminatory, though I just think it was a flawed system. If we must have grades, they should just be the straight forward traditional kind that keep everyone satisfied, at least to know the truth.”

– Murphy Rodriguez

10. The perks of studying mineralogy .

“I had a mineralogy professor at Michigan Technological University in 2000 who was a character. He was a grizzled-looking guy in his sixties, bald-headed and with an unkempt gray beard. He was a smart man and a nice guy, but a difficult teacher.

Anyway, I was doing ok in the class. Not great, but alright. I had an 83%. Almost a B, probably a BC under Michigan Tech’s weird grading scale (a BC being half way between B and a C, like a combined B-/C+). There were students from two very different departments in the same class, each comprising around 50% of the class. Half were geologists, of which I was one. The other half were mining engineers.

No one had an easy time in the class, but the mining engineers really struggled badly. As the professor explained at the end of the semester, he was faced with a grading dilemma.

‘All of the geology students have grades between 96% and 83%. All of the mining engineers have grades between 60% and 18%, with a mean around 32%. If I leave the grade scale as it stands now, all of the geologists will pass and every last mining engineer will fail.”

That’s not where it ends….

“My professor went on: ‘I can’t just fail an entire department, though. If I slide the grading curve down the scale to pass most of the mining engineers, then every geology student will get an A and that will raise alarms with the school. Instead, the only fair thing I can think of is to expand the bell curve.

And that’s what he did. An A was 100–96%, an AB was 95–92%, a B was 91–88%, a BC was 87–84%, a C was 83–28%, a CD was 28 to zilch.

I got the short end of the stick. Not only was my grade lowered from a BC or maybe even a B down to a C, but I ended up with the same grade as people who had originally earned a fraction of mine. In what world does a person with an 83% get the same grade as someone with a 28% in a class? Well, in mineralogy at Michigan Tech in Fall of 2000. Kind of a poor incentive for hard work.

I didn’t complain in an official capacity because the professor has the right to choose a grading scale for his/her class and, by his chosen scale, I got the grade I deserved. Hasn’t stopped me from complaining about it almost two decades later, though!”

– Craig McClarren

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